They lay there in the flower field, lost in each other, the minutes slipping away like grains of sand. The night air is cool against their skin, their bodies pressed against each other as they kiss. His large frame surrounds her small figure, like a shield, protecting her from the rest of the world. For this moment, they are the only people in the world, nothing else mattering but the feel of their lips together and the sound of their intertwined breaths.
With a gentle shift, he rolls onto his back, pulling her along with him so that she rests against his shoulder, her head nestled close to his chest. They lie together in the stillness of the night, the warmth of their bodies mingling as they catch their breath, hearts gradually slowing from the intensity of the moment. The night sky stretches out above them, a vast expanse of dark velvet sprinkled with countless stars, each one twinkling like a distant jewel. The moon, full and luminous, casts a serene light over the world around them. They lie there in silence, content to simply be in each other’s presence, the quiet night wrapping them in a comforting embrace. As they gaze up at the heavens, the weight of the world seems to lift, leaving only the peaceful rhythm of their breathing and the gentle rise and fall of their chests. In this perfect moment, beneath the twinkling stars and the watchful moon, everything feels right, as if the universe itself has paused to honor the connection they share.
He points up at the sky. "That's the north star right there." She follows his finger, tracing the direction he's gesturing.
"The north star? You mean the one everyone uses to guide their way during a journey?"
"Yes... That star is what eventually led me here, over the years I spent traveling across the world." She turns to look at him, her eyes wide.
"You followed the north star... all that way?"
"It definitely helped navigate. But, generally, we followed the rise and set of the sun." She nods, her mind still trying to wrap around the concept of traveling such great distances.
"What was it like, living as a warrior? Traveling from place to place, never settling in one location?"
"It was all we ever knew. I liked the freedom, the sights, the constant thrill of survival and exploring new lands. Doing that with my brother... they were some of the best days of my life. Yet, at the time, I felt so desperate to escape them. I never thought I would long for those times again. I never comprehended that maybe one day, I wouldn't have Thekkur by my side to go on adventures with. It was inconceivable." She can hear the hint of sorrow in his voice as he mentions his brother. Her heart aches for him, for the loss he has endured.
"I can't even imagine what it must be like," she says softly, her fingers idly tracing beads on his necklace. "Losing your twin..."
"It's... unimaginable." He responds, blankly, staring up at the stars. "It's like... you go your whole life, in this world. I wasn't my own person, I was a half of a whole. It was always ‘us,’ ‘we’... When he died, it was like I lost my limbs, like I was blinded, like I died with him, and my body was left to wander the world searching for him again. It was like... within moments, I was in this world, with him. And then, moments later, the world was different. It looked the same, but it was now vast and empty. Before, I would gaze at the sky, but after, I would gaze at the same sky, and it was just a sky in a world without Thekkur." She listens to him, her heart breaking with every word he speaks. She can hear the pain and grief in his voice, and her hands on his chest still as she listens intently.
“There was a time, in Constantinople, we were wandering the city, just exploring. We eventually made it to the lower class slums, and we saw a band of… well, it was like a freakshow of sorts, like a circus. Mostly people with strange birth deformities. The ones who stood out to us the most were a pair of brothers who were conjoined, from the shoulders down. They had two heads, two necks, but they shared two arms, two legs, and one torso.”
She nods, understanding what he's trying to get at. "Two people... bound together. Never to be apart, for any reason.” Oleksandr nods and continues.
“I remember… in that moment, Thekkur and I felt like there were people who were like us. In body, we were vastly different, and those men surely suffered greatly from their condition… but I imagine, that is how Thekkur and I’s soul looked. When they were in their mother’s womb, something went wrong, and their bodies didn’t fully separate. I imagine that happened with my brother and I, except with out very souls, our spirits, rather than our flesh. When he died… It was like, if you were to take those brothers, and violently cut them in two.” She listens intently, taking in every word he's saying. Her hands rest over his heart, feeling it beat beneath her fingertips.
"You felt as if he was a part of you... until he was ripped away from you,” she whispers. “As if you had lost part of your own body when he was gone.”
"Yes... It was like we shared a soul. I knew his soul, because it was mine. We could hear each other's thoughts and anticipate each other's actions. I knew him better than I knew myself."
"And his loss is like... a phantom limb,” she says, gently tracing her hand down his arm. “You still feel it, every day. You can still feel where it used to be, you know it's still there. The pain is still there, the ghost of it lingering every time you move.”
"Precisely. How are you supposed to heal a wound that isn't physical, that isn't of this world?" She is quiet for a moment, lost in her own thoughts as she continues tracing his arm with her fingers. When she speaks again, her voice is quiet, her own sorrow lingering in her words.
"I'm so sorry..." He gazes over at her, placing his hand on her cheek.
"It's okay, Savushka." She feels the warmth of his hand against her cheek and can't help but lean into his touch. Her expression is soft, her eyes meeting his, and she places her own hand over his. Her voice is a soft murmur.
"No, it's not," she says quietly. "No one should have to feel that kind of loss..."
"No, nobody should. But that is the tragedy of existence. We shouldn't feel many of the things we do. But we must, and we must bear the pain. Just as steel must be struck, folded, and forged in the fire to become strong, so too must our hearts endure and be tempered by the trials we face. We all have a cross to bear." She nods, her eyes still not leaving his.
"You've endured so much suffering... and still you're so strong," she whispers. Her hand remains slightly covering his own, her slender fingers gently tracing across the back of his hand. "But you don't have to always be strong... Not with me." His eyes flicker between hers, widening slightly. He's never considered that. He leans over, placing a soft kiss on her forehead.
"I'll remember that." She closes her eyes as his lips touch her forehead, a small shiver running down her spine. Her hands rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. It was so strange, how this rough, stoic knight could be so gentle with her…
They lay there in comfortable silence for a while, their hands still intertwined as they gaze up at the stars. The night is cool and peaceful, the only sounds the chirps of crickets and the occasional rustling of leaves. Finally, she speaks, breaking the silence.
"Oleksandr... may I ask you something?"
“Yes?” She hesitates for a moment, her mind searching for the right words. She can feel her heart beating a little quicker, nerves fluttering in her chest. Finally, she gathers her courage and asks, her voice soft.
"Have you... have you ever been in love before?"
"No... I haven't." Her eyes widen slightly at his response, her heart fluttering a bit more.
"Never?" She tries to keep her voice even, but there’s a hint of curiosity there, a hint of hope.
"Never. I was never much of a romantic."
"What do you mean?" She asks, propping herself up on her elbow to look at him. "You've never had a crush on someone? Never looked at a maiden and found her lovely, or admired a woman from afar?"
"Well, of course. I've had dalliances here and there, fooled around with wenches. But never anything deeper." She nods, her mind trying to picture him with another woman. The thought of him with someone else, his hands on another woman, fills her with a hint of jealousy. She looks back up at the star-studded sky, watching as a shooting star streaks across the sky, vanishing just as quickly as it had appeared.
"Do you think you ever will?" She asks quietly, her voice almost a whisper. He looks over at her.
"Is that even a question? I'm sure you know how I feel about you by now." Her cheeks flush at his words, her heart skipping a beat. Even now, even after everything that had happened between them, a small part of her can’t quite believe it.
"I know how you feel about me..." She begins, her voice soft. She bites her lower lip, her fingers idly playing with his. "But can you really be sure that it’s love? How do you know it’s not just... lust?"
"Because I think about your eyes more than I do your breasts."
She can't help but laugh at his comment, her cheeks turning even redder. "That's... that's a good point," she concedes, her eyes glimmering with amusement. "I suppose a lustful man would not be quite so obsessed with my eyes."
"And what of you? Have you ever been in love?" The question seems to catch her off guard, and she hesitates for a moment before answering.
"No," she says slowly, looking back at the stars. Her fingers trace absentmindedly across his chest, her touch gentle. "No, I've never really been in love... In fact, I've barely had any exposure to men, really. My father always kept me hidden away... You remember how I was when we first met. I could barely talk to you, or look at you, even though I was hidden behind the veil." Oleksandr nods, watching her lips as she speaks. He can’t help but feel a flicker of honor and excitement that he gets to be her first love.
"I remember." He says with a small grin.
She chuckles quietly, her eyes still fixed on the sky. "I must have looked like such a fool to you, so shy and timid. I was honestly terrified of you when we first met, just because you were a man. A big scary one, at that. You're quite intimidating, you know."
He smirks. "I thought it was quite adorable."
"Oh, stop it," she chides, her cheeks turning red as she pokes his side playfully. "Do you like shy, timid little girls who can't even look you in the eye?"
"Aye. I must admit, it’s endearing." She rolls her eyes, but her expression betrays her amusement.
"Oh, so you prefer women who can't even talk to you, is that right? Who cower at the sight of you, and blush at the sound of your voice?" He looks over at her, a gap-tooth smirk playing on his lips, before his expression shifts to something more contemplative and serious.
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"Hm. I think, honestly, yes. I suppose it's because it's so far from what I'm used to. I've always been around rough, confident, warrior class men. Seeing a small, timid little creature is... Refreshing. Comforting, almost. There’s a softness in it that speaks to a part of me that’s rarely touched by the world’s hardness. It's like a breath of fresh air after being in the thick of a storm. There’s something profoundly soothing about it.”
"Comforting, huh?" She muses, a small smile playing at her lips. "You really do like women who are the direct opposite of you. Strong man, weak woman." He meets her gaze, his expression thoughtful.
"It doesn't make you weak. It just means you're innocent. I've always had a soft spot for the innocent, since I never experienced it myself. There’s something pure and untouched about it that draws me in. It's a reminder of a world I never knew, and it feels like a precious thing I want to protect." Her expression softens, her heart melting a little as his meaning sinks in. The fact that he thinks of her as innocent and vulnerable... It's endearing. And a little exciting, too.
"I suppose that makes sense..." She says, her voice suddenly quiet. "You're a warrior, a fighter, a man hardened by battle and scarred by war... I suppose having an innocent, delicate woman to protect and keep safe would be appealing."
"It just makes me feel... I don’t really know how to explain it. It reminds me that there’s still good in this world, that there’s something worth defending and fighting for. I’ve always longed for that—a place to come home to after the blood and brutality of battle, a gentle presence that would soften the hardness I’ve built around myself. It’s the hope of finding something pure amidst all the chaos." She always knew that he was a rough, hardened man who had seen more gore and violence than she could ever imagine, but hearing him express the desire to come home to a gentle woman... It was quite romantic. She swallows, trying to keep her tone light, but there's a quiver to her voice as she responds.
"So... you want a soft, gentle woman to come home to, who can take care of you and help you forget the hardships of battle, is that right?"
"Aye."
"And what if," she begins, her voice quiet, "what if that soft, gentle woman was... me?" He smiles softly at her. If only she knew how much he desired her.
"I would like that. Very much." Her heart skips a couple beats as he responds, a small shiver running down her spine at his smile. So easy, so simple... He makes it sound so simple. She swallows, her fingers idly tracing one of his scars.
"Have you... thought it through?" She asks, her voice soft. "You know what I am. You know the risks. I'm a princess, the daughter of a king. My family would never approve of such a union, a foreign mercenary and a royal." His smile fades, and he looks back up at the stars.
"I have thought about it." Her heart sinks a little at his expression, his tone suddenly serious.
"And?" She prompts quietly, her fingers still tracing his scars. "What conclusion did you come to?"
"I plan to build a name for myself. Not just in reputation like I have now, but to establish myself legitimately, in title. I'm working on it, kotik. Trust me."
"Build a name for yourself..." She repeats softly, her mind racing. She has seen his skill, his prowess, his leadership. He was the stuff that legends were made of; it's hard to believe he isn't already a lord. "You mean... you're working towards becoming a lord?"
"Yes..." He looks back over at her, studying her face, before he props himself up on his elbow, looking at her seriously. "There's something I need to tell you. And you can't tell your father, or anyone for that matter."
"I promise," she says, her voice soft and serious. "I won't tell a soul, I swear it. What is it?"
"It's about my past. Where I come from." Her eyes widen a little, intrigued.
"Your past?" She repeats, her curiosity piqued. He's always been a little mysterious, and she's only learned bits and pieces of his history, all of which came from others. But he never spoke much of his past. In fact, he seemed to avoid it. "What about it?"
"Well, all I've told you is that I was born in Siberia. The truth is... My brother and I were born into slavery, to a slave mother. We were slaves for the first fifteen years of our lives. You asked about my scars… That is their origin." Her heart drops at his words, the revelation sending a small shockwave through her. Her eyes widen, her lips parting in surprise. She is silent for a moment, absorbing the information, her fingers still tracing his scars absentmindedly.
"You... you were a slave..." She finally manages, her voice small.
"Yes... And obviously, I'm a free man now, but... to a lot of people in these lands, the class you're born into matters. For example, if your father discovered I was born a slave... He would forever view me as that class." She nods slowly, understanding dawning on her. Of course, she should have known that her father would never approve of such a union. To him, it wouldn't matter how strong he was, or how skilled he was... His origin would matter. She swallows, her heart tight in her throat.
"If my father discovered your true origin… He would never allow us to be together, would he?" Oleksandr scoffs, shaking his head.
"No. Absolutely not." He grumbles. “He would throw my ass out.” She is quiet for a moment, her breathing shaky as she slowly comes to terms with the reality of the situation.
"So... he would never approve of us," she says quietly, her voice wavering. "No matter what."
"No, Savushka. As far as your father knows, I was born a commoner who built his way up into being an esteemed warrior, one who directly served the emperor, notorious across the peninsula, which is true. It's just not the full truth. He doesn't need to know I was born a slave." He brushes the hair away from her face. "Your father respects me as is. He trusts me, he knows I'm honorable and capable. I just have to work hard for a couple of years, build myself up to a point where I have a title. It's possible, darling."
"You're... serious, about all of this? You really think it's possible?" She asks, her eyes searching his for any hint of doubt.
"Yes," he replies with unwavering conviction. "I went from being a slave in the wastes of Siberia to becoming the Roman Emperor's personal guard in Constantinople in just three years. I have more to me than what meets the eye, Savka. I'm relentless. When I want something, I reach out and take it. And I want you, and I will have you." Her heart swells with warmth and affection at his words. His determination, his passion, his drive... It's both intimidating and exciting, all at the same time. And it feels exhilarating, knowing that he's set his sights on her. He pauses, his expression thoughtful as he considers his words. "The difference between men and women is that us men are expected to forge ourselves, to build ourselves up into something, to work hard and shape our destinies. Women, on the other hand, are often expected to remain preserved and untouched by the harshness of the world. That is how we get our value in this life.”
"I never thought about it that way," she muses, her fingers tracing a tattoo on his arm. "It's a bit unfair, isn't it?"
"You could say it's unfair, but it's the natural truth, and life isn't fair. Women are born with inherent value. Men aren’t. We are only born with potential.” She nods slowly, understanding what he means. It's not fair, but it's the truth. She looks down at his hands, fidgeting with the charms on his bracelet.
"So... when you say you want me, and you intend to have me... what exactly does that mean, for you?" He gently tilts her chin up so she meets his eyes, and he looks at her intensely.
"I want to claim you as my own, to possess you, to cherish you as my bride, to have you all to myself, until death takes me." She swallows, her heart racing.
"You sound almost... primitive," she teases lightly, trying to keep her tone at a flirtatious banter.
"Look at me, my lady. I'm not from the refined lands of civilized folk like you. You can take the man out of the barbarian wastes, but you can't take the barbarian out of the man." She lets out a small, amused huff, her heart fluttering. This is true, he does carry a savage, primal aura around him. He's a feral man from the harsh north, a warrior who has seen both victory and defeat, bloodshed and triumph. He's far from the polite, domesticated men she's expected to socialize with. And honestly, she likes that about him. She likes the way he makes her feel, all flustered and shy and giddy.... She likes the way he makes her feel like a woman, vulnerable and feminine. She traces her fingers over the torc locked around his neck.
"You're not like anyone I've ever met, Oleksandr," she whispers, her heart thudding against her ribcage. "You're... a force of nature, like a storm or a fire. You're wild and untamable, and yet... and yet I feel... safe when I'm with you. Safer than I've ever felt in my entire life." He feels a surge of pride and accomplishment at her words. It’s his duty to keep her safe, after all. It’s his pleasure.
"Sometimes all it takes to tame a wild beast is a gentle hand." Her heart gives a little flutter at his words, a small smile playing on her lips.
"A gentle hand, hm? Is that what I have?" She teases softly, her fingers running along his scars, gently tracing his warrior markings.
"Yes..." He takes her small, soft hand in his. Her hand looks tiny in comparison to his large, weathered, calloused one, like a doll's hand. She blushes faintly, her heart skipping a few beats. The contrast between their hands, him so large and strong and rough, and her so small and soft and delicate... It feels like a perfect match, somehow. She intertwines their fingers, and looks up at him with soft, shy eyes. He glances back towards the eastern sky, where it's starting to become a slight reddish hue.
"Damn... We've been up all night. I need to take you back before someone notices we're missing." Her heart sinks at his words, a wave of disappointment washing over her. She doesn't want to leave, not yet. She wants to spend more time with him, to talk and laugh and tease, to feel his strong arms around her. But she nods reluctantly, knowing he's right. They can't stay here, and someone will realize they're missing soon.
"You're right," she murmurs, her voice a little regretful. "We should head back." He stands up and helps her up, handing her circlet and veil back to her. She lets out a small, shaky sigh and puts her circlet and veil back on, covering her face and hair. He feels a little disappointed not being able to see her beautiful face anymore, but he knows they have to be careful. He leans down, taking her chin, and gently kisses her through the veil. The feeling of her lips pressing against his through the veil is electrifying, sending a shiver down his spine. It's a strange sensation, the soft, whisper-thin fabric being a flimsy barrier between them. It feels intimate and forbidden all at the same time, like they're breaking rules and defying the world. She lets out a soft, shaky sigh, her heart racing as she presses her body closer to his, her hands resting lightly on his chest. He breaks the kiss and takes her hand.
"Let's go." Reluctantly, she nods and lets him lead her by the hand. They make it back to the castle, and slip in through a door near the guards barracks. She tightens her grip on his hand, her heart beating faster with each step they take towards her chamber. The guards and servants are mostly still asleep, for now, but they need to be careful. He escorts her back to the royal halls, where he stops and unlocks the door for her, opening it up. He stops, turning towards her, bowing his head slightly.
"Get some sleep, my lady…" She nods, her heart a little heavy at the thought of going back to her solitary room and being without him.
"Goodnight, Oleksandr." With that, she turns and heads down the hall towards her room.
"Goodnight, kotik." He says, his voice barely audible as he watches her walk away. He then turns, shutting the door, and goes back to his quarters. As Savka heads towards her room, her mind is racing, her heart still fluttering from the events of the night. The memory of his kisses, the feel of his strong, rough hands, the sound of his deep yet gentle voice... It all swims through her head, making it hard to focus on anything else. She reaches her room and closes the door gently behind her. Meanwhile, Oleksandr heads back to his quarters, his heart still full of a potent mix of emotions.
He heads down to the guards barracks and pushes through the exhaustion, knowing there's no time to rest. The guards grumble at being woken so early, but they know better than to complain to Oleksandr. He runs them through a series of drills, pushing them to their limits, testing their strength and speed. He barks orders and corrects their forms, his mind still partially distracted by the events of the previous night. The guards grumble and complain under their breaths, but they keep up the pace, knowing better than to cross Oleksandr. He's a hardass, but he's clearly dedicated, and they respect him for it. The training session is intense, but Oleksandr is relentless, pushing them to their very limits. The adrenaline and exertion help him to focus, at least for a little while, keeping his mind occupied and temporarily pushing the thoughts of Savka to the side. After what feels like hours, he finally calls an end to the session. The guards are exhausted, dripping with sweat and gasping for breath, but he doesn't allow them to rest just yet.
"Clean up and get some breakfast. You all have guard duty this morning," he instructs, his voice brokering no room for argument. He goes to the water trough and splashes some water on his face and washes off the sweat and dirt from his training, feeling a little refreshed. Still, he's exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and he's looking forward to getting a few hours of shut-eye. He heads back to his quarters, his mind still a chaos of thoughts and emotions. He knows she'll likely be sleeping in, giving him a few hours of peace before he has to report back for his guard duty later in the day.
He lays in bed and stares at the ceiling, his thoughts consumed by her. He can't get her out of his head, her images and memories flooding his mind, one after another. He thinks of her delicate hands, her soft skin, the sound of her laugh, the way she fit so perfectly in his arms. He thinks of their conversations, their kisses, their promises. He thinks of the way she looked in the moonlight, her hair glimmering like polished obsidian, her face and body framed by the shadows of the trees. He thinks of the way her breath caught when he touched her, the way her body trembled under his hands. He can still feel the memory of her lips on his, the taste of her, the smell of her skin…
He knows it's dangerous, this feeling he has for her. But he can't help it, she's lodged herself into his heart, and he can't seem to shake her loose. After all, he's never been the type to shy away from danger. She's forbidden to him, she's the princess and he's a captain of the guard, not to mention an immigrant mercenary from a foreign land. They come from different worlds, brought together by war and strange dreams.