After he dismissed the soldiers, he stayed behind in the training field, cleaning up the various weapons, shields, and equipment that had been scattered about during the sparring sessions. He meticulously inspected each weapon, wiping off any dirt or sweat that had accumulated on them, and storing them back in their designated places. Every so often, he would glance up at the princess's bedroom window, hoping to catch another glimpse of her watching him.
"You're an amazing swordsman." Oleksandr's heart leaps in his chest at the sound of the voice behind him. He immediately recognizes the voice as Savka’s, and he quickly turns around, the wooden sword that he had been inspecting still clutched in his hand. He looks down to see her standing there, her delicate frame hidden slightly in the shadows of the early morning. He could make out the outline of her veiled face, her eyes watching him with a mix of admiration and curiosity. He stands up straight, leaning the wooden sword against a nearby wall. He bows his head slightly in acknowledgment of her compliment.
"Thank you, princess..." He replies, his voice low and respectful. He pauses, his eyes locking with hers through the delicate veil that obscures her face. He can feel his heart rate increasing, his mind suddenly filled with a mix of emotions. He wanted desperately to reach out and touch her, to gently brush his fingers against the soft, smooth material of her veil, to feel the warmth and softness of her skin underneath. But he restrains himself, his hands clenching at his sides. He couldn't do that, not here, not in the open.
"How... are you feeling...?"
Oleksandr's heart constricts as the memories of last night flood back to him. The feeling of her warm body against his, the way she had soothed him through the nightmare, the sense of safety and comfort he had felt in her arms... All of it comes crashing over him like a wave. "I..." He responds, his voice thick. "I'm doing... better now." He takes a step towards her, unable to help himself. She nods, fiddling with the end of her braid.
"That's good... I had a nice time, really."
He smirks, looking down at the wooden sword, twirling it absent-mindedly in his fingers. "Me too."
Princess Savka smiles faintly, her eyes tracking the movement of the sword. It's a rare glimpse of something other than melancholy or shyness on her face, and he thinks he can see a hint of genuine happiness in her expression. "You make it look so easy," she says softly. "Fighting, that is. It seems so complex and yet so graceful... like a dance." Oleksandr's heart flutters at her words, and he can't help but feel a rush of pride and pleasure at her compliment. He shrugs slightly, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip, trying to play it cool.
"It's all about practice and discipline, maybe a bit of natural talent, I suppose." He twirls the sword in his hand, the blade whistling faintly as it cuts through the air. He can feel the princess's eyes on him, her gaze a tangible presence against his skin. "Would you like to try?" He asks, suddenly struck by an impulse. She hesitates for a moment, her hands wringing nervously in front of her, before she slowly nods.
"Y-yes," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. Oleksandr's heart quickens at her response. He hadn't expected her to say yes, but the sight of her standing there, willing to try something so out of her comfort zone, is endearing.
"Okay. It's not as hard as it looks. Just hold it like this..." He moves towards her, closing the small distance between them. She takes the sword, her hands trembling slightly as she adjusts to the unfamiliar weight. Oleksandr’s large, calloused hands enveloped hers, steadying her grip. She felt a flutter in her chest at the closeness, the warmth of his touch. "First, let’s get your stance right," he says, positioning her feet with the utmost care. He moves behind her, gently placing his hands on her waist to adjust her posture. "Keep your back straight, and don’t be afraid to lean into the strike." She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks, her mind racing between the unfamiliar sensation of holding a sword and the much more familiar sensation of being close to him.
"Now, raise the sword," Oleksandr instructs, stepping back slightly but still close enough to guide her if needed. "And strike—like this." He demonstrates a simple, slow-motion swing beside her. She mimics the motion, her strike tentative and awkward. Oleksandr smiles encouragingly. "Good! Just relax. It’s about control, not force. Try again." She nods, trying to shake off her nervousness. This time, her swing was smoother, more confident.
Oleksandr’s smile deepens, pride gleaming in his eyes. "Much better," he praises. "You’re a natural." The princess blushes at the compliment, glancing up at him with a shy smile.
"Thank you… but I think it’s more because I have a good teacher."Oleksandr chuckled, his eyes locking onto hers with a warmth that made her heart skip a beat.
"Perhaps," he says softly, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "But it’s your courage that brought you here, and that’s what matters most." For a moment, neither of them moved, caught in the gentle tension of the moment. Finally, Oleksandr spoke, his voice low, almost a whisper. "Would you like to try again?" She nods, a soft smile playing on her lips.
"Yes, I would." He steps back just enough to give her space but stayed close enough that she could feel his presence. This time, her strike was more fluid, more confident. Oleksandr watched her, admiration in his gaze, not just for her improving skill but for the strength he saw in her, both the shy, demure princess and the courageous young woman who had stepped out of her comfort zone to try something new. As she lowers the sword, she looks up at him, her eyes shining with excitement. "That was… exhilarating," she says breathlessly. Oleksandr’s smile softens, and he reaches out to take her hand.
"It suits you, little shieldmaiden," he says, his voice filled with a tenderness that was reserved for her alone. Her heart flutters at his words, and she squeezes his hand in return, the bond between them growing stronger with every passing moment. She's so delicate, so fragile, so unlike the hardened warriors he was used to.
He watches the princess as she marvels at the feeling of having just wielded a sword for the first time. Her cheeks were still flushed with excitement, and her shy smile made his heart swell with affection. He wasn’t done yet, though—now it was time to truly engage her in the art of swordplay.
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"Ready for the next step?" He asks, his voice gentle but with a spark of playful challenge. She nods eagerly, her earlier hesitation melting away.
"Yes, show me more." Oleksandr’s grin widens as he reaches for his own wooden sword. It feels light in his hand compared to the heavy steel he's used to, but it would serve its purpose. He moved to stand a short distance in front of her, his stance casual but with a controlled energy that hinted at the skill beneath.
"Alright, princess," he says, twirling the wooden sword in a quick, fluid motion. The weapon spun effortlessly through his fingers, a blur of motion that caused her eyes to widen in awe. "Now, I’m going to show you a few basic moves. Keep your eyes on me, and don’t worry—I’ll go easy on you."
He began with a slow, deliberate demonstration, moving through a series of basic strikes and parries, each one executed with a precision that belied the simplicity of the movements. His feet moved gracefully, his body shifting smoothly from one stance to the next, the wooden sword an extension of his arm.
"First, the overhead strike," he instructs, bringing his sword down in a controlled arc. "You’ll want to aim for the top of your opponent’s head, like this." He pauses, holding the sword in mid-swing so she can see the position. She mimics the movement, her own sword following his with careful attention. Oleksandr smiles at the determination in her eyes. "Good. Now, block like this," he says, demonstrating a simple upward parry. He guides her through the motion, their wooden swords tapping lightly as she follows his lead. "Perfect," he praised, stepping back slightly. "Now let’s add a bit of footwork."
He demonstrates a quick sidestep, his sword moving in a fluid diagonal slash. "You don’t always have to attack head-on. Sometimes, it’s better to strike from the side when your opponent is off balance." She attempts to follow, her movements a bit more hesitant this time, but Oleksandr is patient, his smile encouraging. "That’s it. You’re doing great." Feeling more confident, the princess tries the move again, this time with a bit more speed. "Now let’s put it all together," he says, his tone taking on a slightly more serious edge. "I’m going to come at you slowly, and I want you to block and counter just like I showed you. Ready?"
She nods, gripping her sword tightly as she faces him. Oleksandr takes a step forward, his sword raised in a mock attack. He moves in slow motion, giving her plenty of time to react. She meets his sword with a firm block, just as he had taught her, and then moves to counter with her own strike, poking him in the chest.
Oleksandr grins, genuinely impressed. "Excellent! Now again, but this time, don’t be afraid to put a little more force behind it." They continued, their wooden swords tapping lightly against each other as they went through the motions. Oleksandr gradually increased the speed of his movements, challenging her just enough to keep her engaged but never pushing too hard. As they sparred, he could see her confidence growing with each successful block and strike, the shyness that usually defined her was replaced with a focused intensity, her eyes locked on his as they moved together in a dance of swords.
Finally, after a particularly strong counter from her, Oleksandr stepped back, lowering his sword with a proud smile. "You’re a natural," he says, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "With some practice, you could give the castle guards a run for their money.” She laughs softly, a joyful sound that made his heart swell.
"I don’t know about that, but this was… amazing. Thank you, Oleksandr."
"The pleasure is all mine, Savka.” He glanced down at the princess, a playful glint in his eyes. "You handled the sword well," he said with a smile. "But how about I teach you to shoot next?" Her eyes lit up with interest, though she still appeared slightly hesitant.
"You mean with a bow and arrow?"
"Exactly," he replied, guiding her toward the archery range at the edge of the courtyard. "It’s a different kind of challenge, but I think you’ll enjoy it." As they reached the range, Oleksandr retrieved a bow and a quiver of arrows, handing them to her with a grin. "Let’s see if you’re as good with a bow as you are with a sword."
He carefully put on a leather guard on her forearm, and she took the bow, her fingers running over the smooth wood as she examined it. Oleksandr showed her how to notch an arrow, his hands steadying hers as he explained the basics. "Keep your arm straight, and draw the string back with your other hand," he instructs, his voice low and patient. "Use your dominant eye to aim down the shaft of the arrow. Take a deep breath and release." The princess nods, her focus intense as she pulled the string back, the arrow notched and ready. She hesitates for just a moment, then exhaled slowly, letting the arrow fly. The twang of the bowstring echoed through the quiet morning, and Oleksandr watched the arrow soar through the air. His eyes followed its trajectory, expecting a decent shot, perhaps somewhere on the target—but not too close to the center.
But to his utter surprise, the arrow struck the bullseye dead center, the sound of it embedding into the wood ringing out clearly.
Oleksandr blinks, momentarily stunned. "By God…" He mutters, stepping forward to confirm what his eyes had just seen. Sure enough, the arrow was buried perfectly in the center of the target. The princess looked at him, her shy smile returning as she noticed his shock.
"Was that… good?" She asks, her voice laced with modesty. Oleksandr turns to her, a broad grin spreading across his face.
"Good? That was incredible!" He chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. "I’ve been training men to shoot for years, and most of them don’t hit a bullseye on their first try." She blushed at his praise, but there was a sparkle of pride in her eyes.
"Maybe it was beginner’s luck," she says, though there was a playful tone to her voice. Oleksandr laughs, still amazed.
"Perhaps… or maybe you’re a natural shooter." He looks back at the target, shaking his head again. "I think you might have a hidden talent, princess." He hands her another arrow, his eyes glinting with a challenge. "Care to try again? Let’s see if you can make it two for two." The princess nods, her confidence growing. She notches the arrow and took aim, her movements more assured now. Oleksandr watches closely, curious to see if she could repeat her success.
Once again, she drew the string back, her focus unwavering as she aimed. With a steady breath, she released the arrow, and it flew true, striking just to the left of the bullseye, right on the line where it ends—an impressive shot.
"I knew you had it in you," he says softly, his admiration clear. "You’ve got a natural talent, princess. With a bit of practice, you could become quite the archer." She beamed at his words, her earlier shyness replaced by a newfound confidence.
"Thank you, Oleksandr. I never imagined I could do something like this." He reached out, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
"You’re full of surprises," he murmurs, his voice filled with warmth. "And I’m glad I get to be the one to discover them."
They day passes as usual, and later that evening, he drops Savka off at her bedroom to relax and settle in for the night. As he escorts her to her bedroom, Oleksandr can't help but worry for her safety.
"Make sure to lock the door when you're in for the night," he says in a low voice, his gaze scanning the hallway for any potential threats. "And call for me or one of the castle guards if you need anything. I'll be just down the hall if you need me." She smiles softly and nods.
"Okay, I will. Thank you, Oleksandr." He stands there for a moment, his eyes lingering on her for just a bit longer.
"Goodnight, princess," he says in a soft voice, his Russian accent thick. "Sleep well."
"Goodnight, sir Oleksandr..." He stands there for a moment longer, listening to the soft sound of the lock clicking into place, before turning away.