The sun's rays filtered through the half-open curtains, illuminating a festively decorated room in the former capital of the Aurelian Empire, today's Istanbul, now occupied by Russian forces. It was May 6, 2035, 12:00 (Putin still rules). The apartment had a special atmosphere: the laughter of children echoed with the smell of freshly cooked food. A little girl with ash-blond hair and bright blue eyes ran along the corridor, her eyes shining with joy. Her brother ran after her, laughing, trying to catch her, but each time she deftly slipped away, laughing in return.

In the living room, my father was sitting at the table. His face was thoughtful, and his eyes were focused on the TV screen, where news about the upcoming holiday on May 9 was on. There were plates on the table, and my mother, with a serious expression on her face, was methodically serving dishes, clearly trying not to pay attention to the discussion of the holiday on TV. My grandmother was sitting next to my father, her wrinkled face expressing irritation.

"They have nothing better to do," the grandmother suddenly said, "than to show us this crap. I know perfectly well that we didn't give a shit on May 9th!"

The father sighed heavily and gently reproached:

- Mom, speak more civilly, the children are nearby.

Grandma just snorted.

- What kind of culture is there? They only impose their own. As if anyone cares.

Mom, without looking up from serving food, suddenly said, restrainedly, but with a hint of tension in her voice:

- Why don’t you like Russians so much?

The father glanced briefly at his wife. The tension in the room was palpable. She was Russian, originally from Russia. Her accent still occasionally came through in her speech, despite the many years she had spent away from her homeland. The father and grandmother, in turn, were former citizens of the great empire of Aurelis, which had fallen apart after the death of Emperor Cassian Aurelis, the ruler who had held the empire in his hands for over a thousand years.

The grandmother looked angrily at her daughter-in-law.

- Your relatives just came and now they do whatever they want! They think that the whole world will adapt to them.

The father, trying not to get involved in the argument between the two women, poured himself a shot of vodka and drank it, trying not to pay attention to the growing tension. Meanwhile, the children continued to make noise and run around the apartment, as if not noticing the family disagreements.

“During the empire, everything was cheap and high-quality,” the grandmother persisted, her voice becoming more insistent. “Everyone was afraid of us. And the food was normal.”

Mom, putting the last dish on the table, coldly retorted:

— They were afraid of Russia too. And you lived in lies and tyranny.

Grandma clenched her fists on her knees, remembering the past:

- Yes, I remember very well how I cooked a whole table for one eagle (in rubles - that's eighty thousand)! And my salary was twenty-three eagles. I could feed a family for months! And now you, - she looked at the prepared food with disgust, - cook only cheap stuff, and even the taste is lost.

Mom couldn’t resist, but answered more softly:

- There's nothing you can do. Your empire has fallen.

The father finally decided to intervene, his voice soft but firm:

- Let's end this argument. Today is a holiday, not a day for old grievances.

After a short pause, both women calmed down, and soon the whole family gathered around the table. The children stopped running and also sat down in their places. It was quiet until suddenly the brother and sister said at the same time:

- Grandma, you always said that it was easy to live in the empire. Can you tell us about the emperor?

The sister, jumping up and down with excitement, added:

— I saw his portrait in the museum, he is so beautiful!

Mom couldn’t help but frown slightly:

— You should study the history of your own country, not the fallen one.

The father, sensing the intensity of emotions, quickly intervened:

- Darling, this is their country too. They have imperial blood in their blood. It doesn't mean they shouldn't study Russian history, but the empire is part of their heritage.

The grandmother looked at her grandchildren with warmth and pride, her voice regained its strength:

- That's right, don't listen to your ugly mother. The history of the empire is ancient and glorious, and it is necessary to know it. Emperor Cassian Aurelis was a real ruler, which the current one will never become.

The children, inspired, pricked up their ears, and the grandmother, sighing, began her story:

- When I was ten...

The light seemed to soften, and time began to recede. Memories took her back to her childhood. In a small classroom of an old school sat a girl with ash-blond hair and bright blue eyes. She carefully wrote down the teacher's words in her notebook, her thoughts wandering between the lesson and dreams of a great future that seemed so real then.

The teacher looked up at Marie and held her gaze. At first his brows were slightly furrowed, but then his expression softened. He understood that the girl had simply become engrossed in something else, as often happens in history lessons.

"Mary," he said with some severity. The girl jumped, her ash-blond hair swaying slightly from the sudden movement.

“Yes, I am!” she blurted out, and her face turned slightly pink with embarrassment.

The teacher looked at her carefully, pursing his lips.

- Next time I won't repeat it twice. What are you writing there?

Marie looked hesitantly at her notebook, noticing that instead of history notes there were formulas written there.

“And I... am doing algebra,” she admitted, looking at the teacher with a guilty smile.

The teacher sighed and shook his head.

— Algebra during history class? It was just in time that you decided to do it.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, lowering her head, but her eyes were still looking at the teacher, waiting for his reaction.

"Sit down and listen carefully," said the teacher, but his voice was already softer. "We are now talking about a very important person, namely the first Empress Marie Aurelis."

Marie felt her interest increase and she sat up straighter, ready to listen. The other students also turned their attention to the teacher.

"The Empress Marie Aurelis," the teacher began, his voice deepening as if he himself had delved into the past, "was the wife of Cassian Aurelis himself, the immortal ruler who still rules the empire. Marie became his wife at the age of thirty. She was a duchess, and her position was always a matter of some controversy among the nobility.

The teacher paused, looked around the classrooms and saw many children listening with obvious interest.

"Marie had no political power in the country," he continued. "All the power was always concentrated in the hands of Cassian, and many thought that she would be just a shadow of her husband. But Marie was not like that. Even though she did not participate in state affairs directly, her influence was felt in every part of the empire.

Marie (the one sitting at the desk) sat, her eyes fixed on the teacher. Her interest grew. Images flashed in her mind: what might this empress look like? Was she as strong as Cassian, or was her power different, softer, but no less influential?

The teacher continued in the meantime:

— Marie was not a woman willing to hide behind her husband. Her support and ability to behave in high circles made her a respected and beloved figure among the people. She was involved in charity, built orphanages, organized holidays and always made sure that the people felt cared for. But despite her good deeds, she always remained in the shadow of the great Cassian.

Marie couldn't help but feel a little sad. She wondered: what would it be like to be the wife of an immortal ruler? To be with someone who would live forever, knowing that your life would end? She imagined Marie looking at Cassian, knowing that one day her time would come, and he would remain, ruling the empire. Her thoughts filled with questions and doubts.

— The Empress, as they say, — the teacher smiled slightly, — was not only smart, but also incredibly beautiful. Her image has been preserved in portraits: lush hair, light eyes that expressed both wisdom and gentleness. But what attracted people to her even more was her inner light, her kindness and strength of spirit.

One of the students raised her hand.

- But why didn't she have power? If she was so smart and strong, couldn't she help Cassian run the empire?

The teacher frowned, considering the question.

- That's a good question. The thing is, Cassian Aurelis is immortal. He himself has seen the birth and fall of many states. He has seen how people change, and he understood that everything is transient. That's why he kept power in his hands, not allowing it to be divided. Marie could have helped him, but I think she understood that her role was different. She supported him emotionally, was his pillar, his advisor. And in this, her strength was no less significant than her power.

Marie listened, her gaze fixed on the teacher. Her thoughts were mixed up: she tried to imagine what it was like for Marie to live next to such a person who had outlived the centuries. She felt some invisible connection with this story, as if their fates were somehow similar.

The teacher, noticing the girl’s thoughtfulness, addressed the class:

— Empress Marie became a symbol of devotion and fortitude. Her life is not a story about politics or wars, but about how one can be strong even in the shadow of a great ruler.

Marie (sitting at her desk) tilted her head slightly, thinking. Her hand lightly squeezed her pen, as if she was about to make a new entry, but her thoughts carried her far from her school notebook.

Marie, sitting at her desk, carefully opened a blank page in her notebook. Her gaze, inspired by the teacher's story, thoughtfully froze on the white paper. Her hand slowly reached for a pencil. She imagined the image of the first empress: a woman with lush blue hair, her eyes - deep, blue, like the purest morning sky. Each stroke on the paper was careful, verified, as if Marie was trying to catch something magical and eternal. She began with the face - soft features, a calm and thoughtful expression, framed by long wavy hair. Each curl was drawn with attention to detail, as if alive. The empress's eyes, large and expressive, looked into the distance, reflecting the wisdom of the centuries.

Meanwhile the teacher continued:

— The empire is currently ruled by its ninth empress. Although times change, the very essence of the empire remains unchanged. The current ruler continues the work of her ancestors with dignity, but we must not forget about those who stood at the origins — those who laid the foundation of this great power.

One of the students sitting near Marie raised his hand.

"Master, I have a question." There was a hint of curiosity in his voice. The teacher nodded, allowing him to continue. "What color was the first empress's hair and eyes exactly? And also... my mother said that the first empress was Lucy, not Marie. Is that true?"

The teacher smiled, his eyes shining slightly, as if he had been expecting this question.

"A very good question," he began, sitting down on the edge of his desk to make his answer more casual and personal. "The first empress did indeed have two names. Her name was Marie Aurelis, but she also had a second name, Lucy. The name Lucy was given to her by the Emperor Cassian himself as a sign of special closeness and respect. It was not used in official documents, but in the Emperor's family circle she was often called by that name.

Marie (the one sitting at the desk) slowed down her drawing a little, listening attentively, but her hand continued to draw the soft lines of the empress. She had already drawn the delicate blue hair falling in waves on her shoulders, and stopped at the eyes. These eyes, blue as a deep ocean, embodied something distant and unattainable. Marie seemed to feel a connection with this woman from the past, her difficult fate.

"As for her appearance," the teacher continued, "Marie had bright blue hair and deep blue eyes. Her appearance was considered unusual even in those days, when the diversity of the empire's peoples was enormous. This hair color became a symbol that linked her to the legends of the skies and seas. Marie was not only a beautiful woman, but also a symbol of calm and wisdom.

“Why did Cassian name her Lucy?” the student persisted, his eyes shining with interest.

The teacher paused for a moment, thinking.

— It was a gesture of special significance. Emperor Cassian was known for his coldness and distance from most people. But he treated Marie differently. Her second role, as the wife of an immortal ruler, was not easy. Lucy, translated from the ancient language, meant "light," and Cassian gave her this name as a sign that she was a light to him in his long, dark life.

Marie, still drawing, felt the teacher's words penetrate her consciousness, and this inspired her even more. Her hand confidently added the final touches to the drawing: gentle shadows on the face, the light playing in the hair, and a slight smile that was barely noticeable, but gave the image a special humanity.

When she finished, an image appeared before her – a woman with long blue hair, blue eyes full of inexpressible depth and wisdom. A quiet smile shone on her face, as if she knew something important that was not given to others to understand. This was the image that Marie wanted to embody – an image of strength, femininity and hidden pain. She looked at her drawing and felt that she had finally captured the edge that connected history with the present.

The teacher continued, looking at the class with a kind smile:

— That is how Empress Marie became for us a symbol of strength in the shadow of the great Cassian. She did not rule the country directly, but her presence and support were no less important for the formation and prosperity of the empire.

The bell rang, interrupting the quiet rhythm of the school day. The teacher looked at the class, already a little tired from lessons, with a smile and said:

- That's all for today. Don't forget that tomorrow we'll continue studying the history of the empire. See you.

The students began to gather their things, noisily discussing their plans for the rest of the day. Marie, taking her time, carefully folded her notebook, glanced at her drawing of the empress, and quickly hid it in her backpack. She always tried not to attract unnecessary attention to herself - there was no point. She had almost no friends at school, and most often she walked home alone. It did not bother her much, but sometimes she felt a little lonely, especially when she watched the other children happily walking in groups, chatting and laughing.

When she walked out of the school gates, the weather was warm and sunny, and the streets were bustling with everyday life. As she passed a shop, she noticed a small sign: **"Discounted soda - 0.10 eagle"**. Her eyes lit up, and she quickly turned into the shop, deciding to treat herself to something nice.

It was cool inside the store. Marie chose her favorite soda, the minty kind, paid with a coin that jingled pleasantly on the counter, and, satisfied with her purchase, walked outside. At that moment, her gaze accidentally caught a familiar figure.

"Lumine!" she shouted happily, raising her hand in greeting. Her voice was so sudden that Lumine jumped slightly.

The girl with long black hair and green eyes turned around, her face initially expressing slight confusion, but upon seeing Marie, she relaxed and quickened her pace a little, easily running up to her friend.

“Hello, Marie,” she said with a small, warm smile. Her voice sounded a little tired, but still friendly. “How are you?”

Marie turned the soda slightly in her hand, showing it off.

"Yeah, it's fine, I just bought some soda on sale. How are you?" she asked, lifting the cap to take a sip.

Lumine sighed, but her face remained calm.

"Oh, that's okay too. I got an 'I' at school," she said proudly, referring to her grade, which was equivalent to an A.

- Wow! - Marie smiled sincerely, her eyes shining. - You're great! I knew you could do it. What subject?

Lumine shrugged slightly, her green eyes dimming for a moment.

— In math. I honestly didn't expect it to go so well. The teacher was strict on this test.

“I’m happy for you!” Marie took another sip of soda, enjoying its refreshing taste. “It’s probably easier for you to study at another school?”

Lumine nodded, but a shadow of thoughtfulness flickered in her eyes.

“Sometimes it’s easier,” she admitted. “We don’t have so many students, and the atmosphere is… different. Less fuss, and the teachers are more patient. But, to be honest, sometimes I miss the communication. Everything is too… calm.”

Marie laughed, her laughter soft and warm.

- How calm is that? You were always so active! I can't imagine you in silence.

Lumine also laughed quietly, her green eyes sparkling.

- Well, maybe it's for the best. I've come to understand myself better. And how are you? Is everything okay at school?

Marie thought for a second, her gaze wandering along the road ahead.

- Yes, everything is as usual. Classes, teachers... You know, sometimes I feel like I'm just passing by, leaving no trace. - Her voice sounded a little sad, but not bitter. - I don't have many friends. Usually I'm alone.

Lumine leaned a little closer to her friend with a knowing smile.

"You're not alone, Marie. You have me. We may be in different schools, but I'm always there." Her words were simple but warm, and Marie felt how it slightly softened her inner anxiety.

“Thank you,” Marie whispered, smiling sincerely. “This really means a lot to me.”

They continued walking down the street, chatting about small things: homework, what was on TV, what they were planning for the weekend. Lumine talked about her new hobby - she had started learning to draw portraits, which surprised Marie, because her friend had not shown any interest in art before.

Soon Marie saw her house ahead. She slowed down, looking back at Lumine.

"Well, I have to go," she said with a little regret. "But it was great to see you again."

Lumine nodded, her face lighting up with a soft smile.

- It was nice to see you too, Marie. I hope we meet again soon.

“Definitely,” Marie answered with confidence.

They exchanged a few more words, after which Marie headed towards her house, feeling a slight warmth inside.

Marie quietly entered the house, carefully closing the door behind her. There was a delicious smell inside – perhaps her mother was preparing her signature stew. The quiet clatter of dishes could be heard in the kitchen and the quiet hum of the TV in the living room. She took off her shoes and slowly headed towards the kitchen, where, as usual, she was met by cozy everyday life.

Mom stood at the stove, stirring something intently in a large pot. She had blonde hair pulled back into a high ponytail and expressive brown eyes that usually glowed with warmth, but now her face was focused. She was humming something quietly to herself—her favorite tune from an old movie.

“Oh, hi, Marie,” Mom said, not turning around, but judging by her tone, noticing her daughter as soon as she entered. “How’s school?”

Marie smiled, walked slowly to the kitchen table and placed her backpack on a chair.

- Hi, Mom. Normal, as always. The teacher was talking about the imperials again.

- About the Imperials again? - Mom grinned, turning to her with a spoon in her hand. - It seems like these lessons never end for you. Tell me honestly, aren't you tired of this story?

Marie shrugged, picking up one of the napkins from the table and playing with it in her hands.

- Sometimes yes. But, you know, today was interesting. We were talking about the first Empress Marie. It turns out she had two names.

The mother looked at her daughter with a smile.

"Your namesake, then." She winked. "Just don't forget, you'll be great too, just without all that imperial stuff."

Marie giggled.

“Is dad home?” she asked, looking towards the living room.

“He’s in his usual place,” Mom said, nodding toward the room where the television was playing quietly.

Marie peered into the living room and, sure enough, there was her father. He was sitting on the couch with a newspaper in his hands, flipping through the pages the old-fashioned way, although he could have been reading the news on his phone long ago. His short dark hair was slightly tousled, and there was an unshaven stubble on his face, giving him the look of a man who didn’t care much about his appearance in a domestic setting. He looked relaxed, but focused on something important.

“Hi, Dad!” Marie said, sitting down next to him.

Her father raised his eyebrows slightly at the sound of her voice and put the newspaper down.

"Oh, hi, little one," he said with a joking note. "How was school? Saving the world again?"

Marie snorted and shook her head.

- Not exactly. Although our history teacher seems to think that we will all become rulers of an empire in the future.

The father chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

- Well, if that's the case, maybe I should start preparing the crown? Although, you know, if you become empress, I could become your personal jester. Can you imagine me jumping around the throne and telling jokes?

Marie laughed.

- I think you would even like it!

- Exactly, - he grinned and returned to his newspaper, not hiding his smile. - And have you already decided who will be your prime minister? Or will Lumine's friend take this post?

"Lumin would definitely refuse," Marie replied, narrowing her eyes. "She can't stand politics."

Mom, hearing their conversation from the kitchen, loudly intervened:

- Just don't dare drag me into this circus! If you become empress, I'll be retired. Without royal duties, please.

Her father laughed again, and Marie, catching his eye, realized that in this family one could always count on cheerful moments. She stood up, feeling lighter after such conversations, and headed upstairs to her room.

Climbing the stairs, she opened the door to her small but cozy bedroom. Inside, everything was just the way she liked it: shelves with books, on which stood figurines and souvenirs, a small workspace, piled high with textbooks and notebooks, and a bed with a soft blanket. She sat on the bed, taking off her shoes, and thought about the past day.

Marie remembered how they had discussed the Empress in class, and her own drawing. She pulled out her notebook and looked at her drawing again. The image of Empress Marie stared at her from the paper, her eyes glowing with a mysterious depth. At that moment, Marie felt that she somehow felt a connection with this woman from the past.

"I wonder what the Empress would say to me if she could?" she wondered, imagining a possible conversation.

But fatigue was gradually creeping in. Marie closed the notebook, put it on the shelf, quickly changed into her pajamas, and climbed under the covers. As she drifted off to sleep, she heard the quiet sounds from home that always gave her a sense of security: her parents' laughter, the measured ticking of the clock in the hallway, and the muffled sounds of the television.

*Note: Her hair and eye color came from her great-grandmother, not her parents.

Years passed. Marie’s ordinary days – school, home, and time spent drawing – flowed like clockwork. Her passion for art became more and more serious, and with each passing year her works gained depth and mastery. When she turned 16, she and Lumine entered the Academy of Artists, fulfilling their dream. The Academy became a new world for both of them, full of inspiration, creative challenges, and, of course, funny situations.

Years passed, and Marie turned 16. Her passion for drawing not only did not fade, but also became the meaning of her life. Together with her friend Lumine, they entered the Academy of Arts, the painting department. They were full of enthusiasm and dreamed of how they would create masterpieces.

One morning, Marie and Lumine overslept. The sun was already high above the horizon when Marie suddenly opened her eyes, realizing that the alarm had long since stopped ringing. Panic immediately overwhelmed her.

"Oh, no!" she cried, jumping out of bed and frantically looking around the room for clothes. "We're late!"

She quickly dialed Lumine on the phone.

“Hello?” came the sleepy voice of a friend.

- Are you still in bed? - Marie almost screamed. - We were supposed to be in class half an hour ago!

Lumine could be heard standing up abruptly from her bed, followed by the sound of her trying to find her clothes.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

"Damn," Lumine whispered softly. "Why do we always wake up at the worst possible moment? This is so unfortunate!"

Marie jumped up, pulling on her jeans as she went.

"I guess it's our destiny," she said, nodding, though Lumine couldn't see her. "But you know, I don't want to miss composition! It's our favorite subject."

"Yeah, yeah," Lumine said, "just run, I'll catch up with you. If you get there first, pretend you've been there for a long time."

Marie quickly ran out of the house, not even having time to have breakfast. She ran down the street, trying not to knock down random passers-by. Her head was spinning with thoughts about how their teacher - strict but fair - would definitely notice their lateness. And what's worse, it was the very day when they were supposed to hand in their work for review.

Halfway to the academy, Marie heard a familiar voice behind her.

- Marie! - Lumine caught up with her, still zipping up her jacket as she ran. Her black hair fluttered in the wind, and her eyes, as always, shone with determination. - You overtook me again, but I'm still in the game!

Marie slowed her pace slightly, allowing Lumine to catch up with her.

"What do you think," Lumine asked, breathing heavily, "will they throw us out for being late? Or will they just make us stand at the exit as a monument to being late?"

Marie laughed, although there was still some anxiety in her head.

- I hope they'll just pretend they didn't notice. But if I have to, I'll stand there like a real statue, with a sad face.

Lumine smiled and waved her hand.

- Well, if we have to be a statue, let's at least do it with style. We can stand like in ancient Roman frescoes: you - a tragic figure, and I'll be with an easel, as if creating a masterpiece.

Marie laughed even louder as she imagined this picture.

"Or, you know," she added, catching her breath, "we could pretend it was an artistic idea: 'Delay as a performance element.' I think that would work!"

"Brilliant," Lumine said, her face lighting up with a smile. "We weren't late, we were just creating art in motion."

Marie nodded, pleased with her idea, and they both finally reached the academy, overtaking students hurrying to their classes.

“This is our moment of truth,” Marie whispered, looking at the huge doors of the academy.

"Let's not panic," Lumine said quietly, "let's just walk and smile. Maybe no one will notice."

They quietly crept into the classroom, trying not to give themselves away. As soon as they entered, their gaze met the teacher, a gray-haired man with sharp features and a piercing gaze. He was standing at the board and seemed to have already begun to notice that some of the students were missing.

“Enjoy your morning inspiration,” he said unexpectedly, without taking his eyes off their faces.

Marie and Lumine froze, exchanging quick glances before stepping forward.

“Sorry, we were a little... delayed on the way,” Marie said, trying to sound confident.

The teacher looked at them silently for a few more seconds, then nodded slightly and, turning to the board, said:

- Sit down. Let's see how your lateness will affect your work.

Marie and Lumine breathed a sigh of relief as they hurried to their seats, their hearts still pounding but with satisfied smiles on their faces.

The days at the academy became a whole new world for Marie and Lumine, filled with colors, ideas, and the daily bustle of creativity. Every morning they met at the threshold of the academy, sometimes sleepy, sometimes in anticipation of a new day, but always ready for something unexpected to come.

Their days usually began with composition classes. The spacious classroom, filled with easels and models, became their second home. The teacher, always strict and reserved, but not without a sense of humor, liked to joke about their attempts to capture the essence of art.

"Mari," he said to her one morning, watching her change the position of the figure on the canvas yet again, "it's as if you're no longer painting from nature, but your own fantasy world. What do you have there? A fairy or an ancient goddess?"

Marie was embarrassed, but answered with a smile:

- Maybe it's a mixture of both? Art should always be fantasy, right?

- Yes, but don't forget that fairies are also subject to the laws of physics, - the teacher chuckled. - Catch her, otherwise she'll fly away.

Lumine, sitting next to her, couldn't help but laugh.

- Marie, your fairies are a separate universe. They clearly resist the rules of our world.

“And your portraits are like from another planet,” Marie retorted, nudging Lumine slightly with her elbow. “How do you manage to make the eyes so huge?”

Lumine shrugged, looking at her canvas, where the image of the man did indeed have somewhat exaggerated features.

- Well, sometimes I just draw the way I think is right. And you know, people with big eyes find it easier to express emotions. They can tell a whole story with just one look!

The teacher just shook his head, but his eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Art is not just an accurate reproduction of reality," he continued, "but also your own interpretation of the world. And I see that each of you has your own unique view on how to show it.

After these words, Marie thought about her style. Her works were always distinguished by a special softness and fantasy. She loved to introduce elements of magic into her paintings, adding light flashes of light that seemed to come from the heroes of her works themselves. Sometimes these were characters from ancient legends, sometimes - just fictional images. Lumine, on the contrary, always painted with an emphasis on details: her characters always had expressive eyes, bright accents in clothing and even the smallest folds of fabric.

After morning classes, it was time for lunch, when they could relax a little. They would sit in the academic cafe, exchanging jokes and stories about the lessons that had just taken place.

"It would probably be easier to draw an elephant today than this model," Lumine said, biting into her sandwich. "She was moving all the time! It's like she doesn't understand that she's supposed to sit still."

"Yes, I thought she was going to fall asleep in the chair," laughed Marie, washing down her lunch with juice. "Then I decided that her pose was just another level of creative expression."

"We may be witnessing the birth of a new movement in art," Lumine nodded seriously, pretending to support the idea. "Moving nature." Only for the most patient artists.

"Yes, yes, definitely," Marie chimed in, figuring out how to depict a continuously moving model. "We'll have to give her a medal for her contribution to art. And maybe a spinner to keep her busy."

Laughter rippled through their little corner of the café. Academic life was not only difficult, but also full of moments when they could take a break from everything, laugh, and forget for a while that they still had a lot of work to do.

The days flew by. Each day brought new challenges: master classes where they learned to mix colors, lectures on art history where they discussed great masterpieces of the past, and endless hours at their easels. The academy became their little world, where everything revolved around creativity.

Sometimes, in the silence of the workshop, they talked about the future.

“What do you think we’ll be in ten years?” Marie asked one day, slightly lost in thought, rolling her hand between her fingers.

Lumine paused, squinting thoughtfully at her work.

"I'd like to be a famous portraitist," she said with a slight smile. "You know, painting people is like looking into their souls. What about you?"

Marie sighed, her thoughts racing ahead.

— I always dreamed of creating something that would inspire people. Maybe illustrations for books or something like that. I want to give the world a little magic.

Lumine looked at her with respect.

- You know, you already do that. Your works are always special. When you look at them, you really feel something magical.

Marie blushed slightly, but was glad to hear such words from her best friend.

- Thank you. But I think we still have a lot of room for improvement.

“And that’s good,” Lumine added with a sly smile. “Because every day we have more and more chances to learn not to be late for classes.”

They both laughed, realizing that despite their best efforts, being late was still a part of their lives. But it didn't seem like such a big deal anymore.

Years passed after graduating from the academy. Marie and Lumine went their separate ways, although they remained close friends. Marie had become a talented artist, and her work began to attract the attention of many. Her style was unique: soft brushstrokes, lively details that breathed life, and there was always something magical that fascinated people. Her paintings were not just images, they told stories - every stroke conveyed emotions, made you think or admire.

She often worked in her small but cozy studio, where daylight poured through the large windows, illuminating her canvases and palettes. One day, as she was finishing a new portrait, the door to the studio creaked softly and a man entered. He was dressed in a white uniform, which immediately caught Marie's attention. His presence was calm, but somehow tense, as if he had come with an important task.

Marie looked up from her work, noticing his gaze, closely watching her movements.

"Excuse me, can I help you?" she asked, putting down her brush and wiping her hands on a linen cloth.

The man came closer, his face was serious, but his eyes were a little warmer than expected.

"I've been watching you work for some time," he began. "Your paintings... they're impressive. Very lifelike. I need to assign you something."

Marie raised her eyebrows in surprise. She was always pleased with orders, but this man was clearly different from the usual customers.

"What exactly do you want me to draw?" she asked, trying to sound professional, but inside she felt a little uneasy.

The man smiled at the corners of his lips, but his gaze remained calm.

- You must come to the palace. There is… someone there who needs to be impersonated. He is a very important person.

— To the palace? — Marie frowned slightly, thinking. She had never worked for such high-ranking people. — Who exactly should I draw? And why? Forgive my curiosity, but this is a rather unusual proposal.

The man took a step forward, his white uniform glinting slightly in the light. He leaned forward, as if deliberately creating a little intrigue.

— You will find out who exactly when you arrive. As for the purpose… I can only say one thing: this portrait will remain in history. And, of course, you will be paid handsomely for it. The amount they offer will cover any of your expenses for years to come.

Marie felt a mixture of curiosity and caution. She looked around at her paintings, wondering how her career had gone up to this point. She had been working on commission for people of all levels, but she had never encountered anything so mysterious and important. Moving to a palace? Who could this "important person" be? And what if this really was the chance that would change her life?

Two feelings were fighting inside her: one was pulling her forward – towards a new challenge, towards the opportunity to try herself in something more, and the other was persistently warning her against such a risky proposal. But the thought of a portrait that could remain in history sounded too tempting.

“But how can I agree if I don’t even know who I need to draw?” she asked cautiously, trying to get more information.

The man tilted his head slightly, his eyes studying her face.

- I understand your doubts. But I assure you, it is worth your time. You just need to trust and come. Believe me, this order will be an important step in your career.

Marie looked at her paintings again. Her mind was spinning: "What if this really is my chance? What if this work is the one that takes me to the next level? But what is this strange feeling? Why do I feel like there is something more behind this offer?"

The man spoke again, his voice softer, almost confidential.

"We all face choices," he said, "and sometimes you have to take a step without knowing exactly where it will lead. But I can guarantee you that this work will change your life for the better."

Marie looked at him carefully. He spoke confidently, but she caught something more in his eyes—a strange, subtle interest. She couldn’t tell if it was just professional admiration for her art or something more personal.

A short phrase flashed through his mind: "How beautiful. Not only her work, but she herself." He quickly pushed it away, remaining outwardly collected.

Marie finally sighed and nodded.

- Okay. I agree. When should I arrive?

“Tomorrow morning,” he replied, smiling slightly. “The car will be waiting for you here at eight o’clock. Take everything you need.”

Marie watched him go, and as she closed the door behind him, she felt a surge of excitement, mixed with anxiety, flare up inside her.

She never imagined that her life could take such a turn. Taking up her brush, she returned to her canvas, but thoughts about the mysterious order and this strange man did not leave her head.

"What awaits me there, in the palace?"

The next morning, Marie was still in doubt when she heard a car pull up outside her house. She looked out the window and saw a black, shiny car with tinted windows. It was strange: she hadn’t given anyone her address. How could they know?

A whirlwind of thoughts immediately started spinning in her head: "I didn't say where I live... How would they know?" Her heart began to beat faster. She listened, then gathered everything she needed - brushes, paints, canvases - and went downstairs. When she left the house, she was met by the same man in the white uniform who had come the day before.

“Good morning,” he said with a slight smile, opening the car door for her. “Please, get in.”

Marie felt a slight tremor in her hands, but she gathered herself and got into the car. It was comfortable inside, the smell of new leather and the soft seats gave her a strange sense of luxury. As the car moved smoothly, she tried to calm down, but the tension did not go away. She glanced briefly at the man in uniform who was sitting next to her.

"What is this place? Why is everything so strange?" Thoughts were spinning in her head, but she knew that the only way to find out the answers was to get to the palace.

As they approached the majestic building, her heart skipped a beat. The palace was incredible: tall columns, glittering domes, and stained glass windows refracting the light. All this created a feeling of grandeur and mystical silence.

The man, noticing her surprise, chuckled quietly.

- Impressive, isn't it?

“Yes...” was all Marie could answer, her gaze never leaving the building’s façade.

They got out of the car and the man led her through the huge carved doors. Inside, everything was even more luxurious: golden chandeliers, marble floors, walls decorated with paintings, antique tapestries, and the air was filled with the quiet sounds of conversation.

Servants, dressed in elegant uniforms, scurried along the corridors, whispering busily to each other. Marie heard snatches of phrases, something about upcoming events and a dinner for important guests. One of the servants, a young man with dark hair, smiled, noticing her curious look, and said barely audibly: "Welcome."

Marie walked along these endless corridors, looking at the paintings that adorned the walls. They depicted scenes from past times, majestic figures, battles and royal receptions. Each step echoed softly in this vast silence, and her excitement only increased.

“It’s all so...” Marie began, breaking the silence.

"Impressive?" the man smiled, not slowing his pace. "You haven't seen the most important thing yet."

Marie looked around, feeling her gaze drowning in the wealth surrounding her.

— Tell me… why me? — she asked, not hiding her excitement. — So many artists could have done this portrait. Why did you choose me?

The man slowed his pace briefly, as if considering his answer.

"Your works," he began quietly, "are not just paintings. They convey something more than just appearance. They have soul. And here in the palace we need an artist who can see… more.

“More?” Marie felt a wave of curiosity rise inside her. “Who are you talking about?”

The man smiled again, but this time his smile was mysterious.

"All I can say," he replied quietly, "is that this man is very important to the future of the empire. You will have to see for yourself."

They continued walking down the corridor, which now seemed endless. Marie felt her heart beating faster. She tried to calm herself, but her head was full of questions. "Who is this man? Why is everything being hidden from me? And what does this mean for the future of the empire?"

As they approached the massive door, the man stopped, looking at her.

— Are you ready?

Marie, although she felt a slight trembling in her knees, took a deep breath and nodded.

“Ready,” she replied, although questions were still ringing in her head, the answers to which had yet to be found.

The doors slowly opened, revealing a large room, bathed in soft light. In the center of the room sat an elderly woman in a wheelchair. Her chestnut hair, in which silver strands were already visible, fell over her shoulders, and her brown eyes looked at Marie with kindness and quiet wisdom. Her face was saturated with years - and not just age, but experience and power.

A servant stood nearby, holding the carriage by the handles, and, bending slightly, introduced:

- Your Majesty, this is the same artist, Marie, who is being talked about in the palace.

Marie froze for a moment, her heart skipping a beat. Now she understood for whom she had been invited. It was the ninth empress, about whom she had heard many stories, but never thought she would see in person.

She made a slight bow, as she had been taught, and said, trying to speak evenly despite her inner turmoil:

- Greetings, your majesty.

The Empress smiled, and her smile was warm, like the spring sun, which unexpectedly made Marie feel lighter.

"Oh, there's no need for formalities," the woman replied calmly, her voice soft and slightly hoarse, like that of someone who had lived a long life. "You're not here to bow. Sit down, feel free."

Marie clutched her bag tightly, feeling her palms slightly sweaty from excitement. Her thoughts were spinning around the upcoming work: "How can I relax? This is the empress..." But she tried to calm down, took a deep breath and exhaled.

The Empress motioned for her to sit down next to her, and when Marie did so, she spoke again:

- Everything you need is already ready. Canvas and paints, everything is selected especially for you. I only need one thing - for you to paint my portrait. You won't mind, right?

Marie smiled, although there were still traces of excitement inside her.

- How can I be against it, your majesty? It is a great honor for me.

The Empress looked at her with slight surprise, but then laughed softly.

- Oh, in our times such words sound almost like an archaism. But I am pleased to hear that you perceive it as an honor.

Marie nodded, feeling her tension slowly drain away. She opened her bag, took out her brushes, and looked at the canvas, already ready to work. At that moment, she suddenly felt calmer, as if her hands knew what to do.

The Empress spoke again, but this time her voice was more serious:

- I would like you to draw not only me. There is another person who should be in this portrait.

Marie looked at her carefully, frowning slightly.

- And who is this, if you don’t mind asking?

The Empress smiled, her eyes sparkling.

"You know perfectly well who it is," she said with a hint of mystery. "The Emperor. I wish you could capture us both together."

Marie looked down at the brushes in her hands, mentally going over the image that was already before her eyes. But she couldn't help but wonder.

- Where is the Emperor himself then? I would like to see him to create an accurate image.

The Empress sighed softly and replied with a slight smile:

- He is working now, as always. The Empire does not wait, even for the sake of art. So I ask you to draw him from memory. I hope you remember what our "sun of the empire" looks like?

Marie felt something inside her turn over. The image of Emperor Cassian Aurelis was so clear in her mind that she could not forget it. Tall, majestic, with piercing golden eyes and white hair, he was the embodiment of strength and power.

She smiled, more confidently this time.

- How can I forget the sun of the empire? Its image lives in the memory of each of us.

The Empress laughed, her laughter soft as the rustling of leaves in the wind.

- That's right. Then get started. I'm sure you can handle it. And don't hesitate to ask questions if you need anything.

Marie stood up, feeling a wave of inspiration rise within her. She walked over to the canvas and prepared to begin work. Her thoughts began to whirl again: "To paint the Emperor from memory… It's a challenge, but his face is known to everyone. I can do it." She looked again at the Empress, who looked at her with quiet wisdom and expectation.

Marie took a deep breath and set to work, feeling as if her hands knew what to do. Every movement of the brush, every stroke seemed to be a part of her, and she already saw the future work before her - not just a portrait, but a story captured in paint.

The Empress suddenly seemed to be lost in thought, her brown eyes shining softly in the light coming through the window. She looked at Marie with a slight smile and suddenly said:

— You know, before you start… how about painting me as a young woman? — She chuckled cheerfully. — It would look less… how can I say, odd. A pensioner and a young man are not the most harmonious couple in a portrait.

Marie couldn't help but let out a small laugh, her tension instantly easing.

“Of course, your majesty. As you say,” she replied, feeling the ease of the conversation.

The Empress smiled again, and her gaze was lost for a moment somewhere in her memories. Marie, holding a brush in her hand, turned to the canvas and slowly began to work. She closed her eyes, imagining how the Empress looked in her youth. It was a moment when she concentrated on every stroke, every brushstroke. Inside her, a feeling arose that she was recreating not just images, but real moments from the lives of these people.

Marie started with the empress's face. She made the contours gentle but precise. The lines of the cheekbones and chin were soft, youthful, the expression calm but determined, with a hint of that wisdom that only comes with experience. She carefully drew the chestnut hair, giving it shine and light shadows to give the image more volume. The empress's eyes, brown and warm, she depicted with special care - this was her main accent, because through them it was possible to convey the soul of the character.

Emperor Cassian was depicted slightly behind her, standing close to her, as if protecting her with his presence. His face, young and majestic, with short white hair and golden eyes that always inspired respect and awe. Marie tried to convey this mysterious aura - a combination of strength, eternity and serenity that emanated from the emperor. She painted them as if they were two figures united by a common destiny.

As she worked, Marie couldn't help but wonder, "What is the story behind these people? What is it like to be an immortal emperor who has ruled for so many years, and his wife, whose life will pass but will leave a mark in memory?"

The hours passed quickly. The light in the room gradually changed, becoming warmer as the sun set over the horizon. Time stood still for Marie, she was completely absorbed in her work, concentrating on every detail - from the fine lines to the smallest shadows.

Finally, when the last brushstroke was complete, she stepped back and looked at her creation with a quiet sense of satisfaction. The empress and emperor seemed alive on the canvas, their images breathing and conveying their entire complex history – their youth, their grandeur, the bond that unites them.

Marie wiped her hands on the cloth, put her hands away and, turning to the empress, said:

- Everything is ready, your majesty.

The Empress, noticing her gesture, slowly turned her head towards the painting. Her eyes seemed to linger on the canvas for a moment, and a barely noticeable shadow of surprise passed over her face. She smiled, but there was something more in her gaze – a touching memory of those days that were left behind.

*I like it too

“Wonderful,” she said finally, her voice soft but firm. “I look like it was yesterday. It’s been so long since I’ve seen myself like this. It’s… amazing.”

Marie smiled, but she couldn't help but notice a momentary glimmer of something like sadness in the Empress's eyes. Perhaps the thought that her youth was a thing of the past brought on a slight regret. But the Empress quickly pulled herself together and, looking at Marie, said:

- You are a true master. This portrait will be remembered. Thank you.

Marie lowered her head in gratitude, feeling a slight warmth inside. It was nice to hear such words from such an important person. But at the same time, there was a strange feeling in her soul, as if this portrait symbolized something more - not just a moment, but an entire era.

“I’m glad I was able to live up to your expectations,” Marie replied, feeling her excitement finally subside.

The Empress looked at the portrait for a long time, her brown eyes following every stroke, every nuance of light and shadow, as if she were looking not at an image, but into the very essence of her past. The slight smile on her lips trembled like a sunbeam on water, but deep sadness hid in her eyes.

Marie noticed this. Feeling that the silence had become too heavy, she asked timidly:

- Your Majesty... Are you satisfied with the result?

The Empress exhaled slowly, looked away from the canvas and looked at Marie.

“I’m happy,” she answered quietly, but there was something in her voice that made Marie feel a slight pang of pain. “But you know, Marie… Seeing yourself young is like seeing a reflection in water. You can’t touch it, and with each passing moment it blurs more and more, disappears. And what remains? Only memories.

Marie felt her heart tighten. She stood before the Empress, feeling both respect and sympathy. Her voice, barely audible, broke the silence:

— The past always seems unattainable to us, but it still lives in us. Your Majesty, your youth has not gone without a trace. It is… here. — Marie pointed to her heart. — In every person who has ever admired you, who has heard of you.

The Empress looked at Marie with gratitude, but the sadness in her eyes remained. She raised her hand, gesturing for Marie to come closer. When Marie was very close, the Empress slowly placed her hand on her wrist.

"You know," she began again, her voice warm but quiet, "sometimes I think the hardest thing in life is not being old... but staying alive. People pass away, entire generations pass, and you're still here. You look at the faces that change, at their joys, at their suffering, but you know that your role... it's already over.

Marie felt a lump in her throat. She didn't know what to say, because how can you comfort someone who has lived such a long life, seeing everything around you change, and you remain?

"But is your role over?" she asked cautiously. "Don't you continue to inspire people? After all, the empire exists thanks to you and the emperor. Your deeds live in the hearts of millions.

The Empress smiled slightly, but her eyes were still sad.

“You’re young, Marie. And there’s so much sincerity in your words that I can almost believe them. But you know, when you’re my age, you start to see the world differently. Cassian and I… We’ve lived the longest. But what’s the price of that life?” She paused for a moment, as if weighing her thoughts. “We watch our children grow up and leave. We watch the people we care about disappear. And each time, a part of us goes with them.”

Marie felt tears start to well up in her eyes, but she held them back, not wanting to show weakness in front of the Empress. Instead, she took her hand in her own, squeezing it tightly, hoping that the gesture would convey at least a little warmth.

“But you’re still here,” Marie whispered. “And while you’re here, you mean more to all of us than you can possibly imagine.”

The Empress looked at her with surprise, then her lips twitched and she smiled slightly.

- You are very kind, Marie. And I am glad that I chose you for this portrait. You see more than just faces. You see souls.

Marie hung her head, feeling touched. She didn't know what to say, but she knew that these words were important.

The Empress slowly released her hand and looked at the portrait again.

— This portrait will be a reminder of the time when Cassian and I were young. When we thought the world was open to us, that we had eternity ahead of us. But eternity is not a gift, it is a test.

Marie listened silently, realizing that before her was revealed not just an empress, but a woman whose life was filled with both greatness and loss.

"Your work is not just a portrait," the empress continued. "It is a memory. And for this memory I am very grateful to you."

Marie felt a wave of emotion rise in her chest. She nodded silently, and at that moment her words were not needed. A connection had been established between them that could not be expressed through ordinary conversations.

The Empress looked at Marie again, and her eyes softened.

"Go and rest, Marie. We'll talk again tomorrow. But today..." She smiled, and something warm and maternal appeared on her face, "you deserve peace."

Marie made a slight bow, feeling that her heart would remember this conversation for a long time. She quietly left the room, leaving the empress alone with her thoughts and the portrait, which was not just an image, but a reflection of an entire life.

As Marie quietly closed the door behind her, she suddenly saw a familiar man in a white uniform standing by the door. He still looked as collected and confident as ever, but now a slight, almost friendly smile appeared on his face.

"You must be tired," he said softly, as if he didn't want to frighten her. "Please, come with me. You've been given a room to rest in."

Marie raised her eyebrows in surprise. A room in a palace? That sounded completely unexpected.

“Me?” she said, feeling her inner excitement mingle with a slight panic. “At the palace? But… maybe you could just take me home? I don’t need to stay here overnight.

The man bowed his head slightly, still smiling, but there was a soft insistence in his voice.

- Tomorrow you still have to draw one more person. So it would be better if you stayed. Besides, you deserve a rest.

Marie sighed, knowing that there was no point in arguing. After all, tomorrow was going to be just as important as today, and perhaps she really should accept this hospitality. Although she still felt a sense of unreality inside her, she nodded in agreement.

The man led her through the long corridors of the palace, lit by the soft light of elegant crystal chandeliers. The floors, covered with luxurious carpets, muffled the sound of their footsteps, creating an atmosphere of comfort and peace. Marie noticed how guards stood at each door, silently but attentively monitoring the order, and servants passed by, quietly talking among themselves. She felt a little out of place among this luxury, but at the same time she could not help but admire how carefully every detail of this space was thought out.

“This is your first time here, isn’t it?” the man suddenly asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Marie nodded, feeling that there was no point in hiding her surprise.

- Yes... I never thought I'd see the palace from the inside. Everything here seems so... different.

The man chuckled, but his gaze remained serious.

— The palace is a special place. Everything here is steeped in history. But behind this luxury are hidden years of power, suffering, joy and loss.

These words made Marie think. She looked around at the paintings on the walls – faces, scenes, symbols of power and wealth. And yet, hidden behind this beauty were the destinies of people who had experienced much more than the portraits could tell.

“Here we are,” the man finally said, opening the door for her.

Marie, not expecting anything special, stepped forward and suddenly froze, her eyes widening in surprise. The room she found herself in was truly luxurious. High ceilings decorated with stucco, gold details, velvet curtains that flowed along the sides of a huge window overlooking the garden. In the center of the room stood a bed with a magnificent canopy, and on the opposite wall hung a painting - a landscape that seemed to literally breathe life.

“Is this for me?” she finally asked, her voice shaking slightly with surprise.

The man nodded reservedly.

- Yes, you have been assigned this room for the duration of your stay at the palace. Please rest. Tomorrow is an important day for you.

Marie walked to the window, watching the last rays of the sunset gently touch the horizon. The air was filled with the scent of fresh flowers, coming from the bouquet on the nightstand. She still couldn’t believe that she was in such a place – a palace, luxury, tasks that she could not even imagine.

“This is too much,” she whispered, but a smile began to spread across her face. Part of her wanted to just enjoy this moment, although another part still resisted this unexpected change in her life.

The man seemed to sense her hesitation and said quietly:

- Everything that happens is not accidental. You are here on business, and I am sure that you will cope. Rest. The morning will be full of new tasks.

Marie thanked him and he left, leaving her alone with her thoughts. She looked around the room again and realized that this was not just a bedroom - it was a place where she could collect her thoughts, prepare for tomorrow and perhaps begin a new path in her life.

"Why am I here? Why did they choose me?" - these questions still hovered in her head, but now she no longer felt the same anxiety. Tomorrow would bring answers. But for now - the night belonged only to her.

The next morning, Marie found herself in a new, even more luxurious room. She sat on a soft sofa, her gaze sliding over the details of the interior. In the corner, by the wall, stood a fireplace with ornate carvings, which seemed to have been there for an eternity, its marble portal decorated with small bas-reliefs. The walls, hung with paintings, were surrounded by shelves with books - hundreds of volumes, each book seemed ancient, with covers faded over time and yellowed pages. Marie could not take her eyes off these shelves. She had always loved books, and this room seemed to beckon her with its knowledge and wisdom.

"Who does this room belong to?" she thought. "So many books, paintings... It's like the entire history of the empire is here. I wonder who usually spends their time here?"

Marie sighed, nervously stroking the fabric of her skirt. The day before, she had been in the shadow of the empress's majesty, and today she was about to meet the emperor himself. Thoughts swirled in her head, and the excitement squeezed her chest more and more with each passing moment.

Suddenly, the door opened quietly and Emperor Cassian walked into the room. His presence instantly filled the entire room. He was as majestic as expected: his short white hair was neatly styled, emphasizing his youth and energy, but what caught Marie's attention most were his eyes - golden, with snake-like pupils. These eyes were cold, but there was an unimaginable depth and strength in them, as if he saw through the centuries and the secrets of the world.

Marie immediately jumped up from the sofa, her heart beating faster. She tried to bow, but her legs were shaking, and her voice sounded louder than she expected, with a slight stutter:

— Greetings... sun of the empire!

Cassian stood by the door, his head bowed slightly, his gaze calm but penetrating.

“No need,” he said briefly, but not rudely. “Sit down.”

Marie, feeling like her legs were about to fail her, slowly returned to the sofa. She tried to maintain her composure, but her inner turmoil still lingered. After all, she was standing in front of an immortal emperor whose strength and power were legendary.

“I ask you to draw my portrait,” Cassian said, watching her reaction.

Marie blinked, lowering her eyes slightly, trying to hide her embarrassment.

"Your portrait, Your Majesty?" She paused, then asked cautiously, "Who would you like to be depicted with?"

Cassian raised his eyebrows as if the question amused him, but there was no hint of a smile on his face.

"With anyone," he answered calmly, his voice deep and even. "Even if it's your choice. If you want to draw me alone, then draw me. If you want someone nearby, then so be it.

Marie felt her inner tension turn into relief. It seemed that this order was much more free than she had expected.

“As you say, Your Majesty,” she replied, feeling more confident.

Cassian nodded, then motioned with his hand, and they headed into the room that was designated for work. It was a large, bright room, with tall windows that overlooked the garden. In the center of the room stood a massive chair with a high carved back—the seat for the emperor.

Cassian sat up, his posture perfect, his face calm yet majestic.

“I hope you can surprise me,” he said, his eyes staring at Marie as if trying to read her intentions.

Marie sat in front of the canvas, her fingers confident on her brushes, but still feeling a little tremor inside. This wasn't just a portrait—it was an opportunity to show something more than just an image of the emperor.

She began slowly, applying the first brushstrokes, focusing on Cassian's features. She made his white hair soft, light as moonlight, hiding centuries of wisdom. His eyes, golden and cold, were difficult to paint. They needed to capture not only power and eternity, but also the hidden strength that made him who he was.

Marie couldn't help but think of his words: "I hope you can surprise me." Her hands continued to work automatically, but determination was flaring up inside her. This portrait had to be more than just a likeness - it had to tell the story of the emperor, to show his essence, what is hidden from the simple view.

"You know, Your Majesty," she said after a while, "when I paint, I always try to see a person more deeply. Your portrait is not just a work, it's like... an attempt to capture your soul."

Cassian looked at her carefully, his golden eyes fixed on her face as if he was trying to discern how sincere her words were.

“And what do you see?” he asked quietly, without taking his eyes off her.

Marie froze for a moment, her hand still. She felt a slight chill run down her spine. Should she tell the truth or just smile and avoid answering?

"I see strength, your majesty," she finally whispered, "but also loneliness. Being immortal… it must be hard."

Cassian looked away for a moment, his eyes softening slightly.

"You are perceptive for your youth," he said, his voice quiet but with a note in it that Marie could not detect. "But not all who see loneliness are able to understand it."

Marie, continuing to paint, felt an invisible connection between them. She did not know whether her portrait would be good enough to "surprise" the Emperor, but she knew one thing: her art had to convey what was hidden behind his external coldness.

"I hope I can show it," she thought, every stroke of her brush filled with this thought.

Marie, absorbed in her work, slowly came to the realization that the emperor alone would not be enough. Every time her gaze slid over his face, she felt something strange – an incompleteness, as if he were surrounded by an unknown shadow. "He is not alone," she suddenly realized. Not literally, of course, but deep down, somewhere behind the cold exterior, there was something. A shadow, a memory, perhaps a person she did not know, but who should have been next to him in this portrait.

Her hand, without hesitation, began to create the second character. She did not think too much about the details - everything happened as if by itself. This person had to be part of this story, and she saw him very clearly: black hair, bright blue eyes with a cold white tint. These eyes were the opposite of Cassian's, but they had the same depth and mystery. There was no power in them, but there was something very personal, intimate, something that connected the two of them.

When Marie had finished her work, she stepped back, looking at the canvas. The Emperor, with his white hair and golden eyes, and next to him, this unknown man with dark hair and an icy gaze. Together, they created a strange contrast: light and darkness, power and calm, but they were connected by something invisible, indescribable.

She nervously ran her hand over her forehead, brushing away a few strands of hair that had stuck to her face, and turned to the Emperor, who had been silently watching her work the entire time. Trying to hide her excitement, she said:

- Everything is ready, your majesty. I... would like to show you.

Cassian, who had remained motionless until now, slowly rose from his chair and came closer. His golden eyes studied the painting carefully, but his expression did not change. However, Marie noticed how he held his breath for a moment as his gaze fell on the figure of the second man.

"Who is this?" His voice was quiet, but there was bewilderment in it. He continued to stare at the portrait, as if trying to solve some riddle hidden in the brushstrokes.

Marie froze, her heart beating faster. She had expected him to ask this question, but she didn't know how to answer it exactly. It had only been her creative inspiration, but now, looking at the emperor, she felt that she might have gotten into some very personal and important story.

“I… I don’t know, Your Majesty,” she began, struggling to find the words. “It was an image that came to my mind when I was drawing you. I felt that this person should be near you. I don’t know why, but it seemed to me that his presence was important.”

Cassian didn't answer right away. He continued to stare at the painting, his face calm, but Marie caught something, like a faint shadow passed through his eyes, something that reminded her of sadness.

Marie felt that the man in the painting was more than just a figment of her imagination. He might have meant something to Cassian, might have been someone important.

She looked down, considering her own feelings as Cassian remained silent. He is so alone, she thought. Not like the Empress… She was warm, even her sadness was enveloping. But Cassian… he is like ice. He has so much strength, but underneath it there is an endless loneliness.

These thoughts suddenly flooded her, and she looked at Cassian again. Why was he examining the portrait so closely? What did he see in this second person? Perhaps it was someone he had lost long ago? Or someone whose memory remained painful to him?

She didn't dare interrupt his thoughts, but inside she was overcome with confusion. "Maybe I did something wrong?" flashed through her mind. However, deep down she knew that her choice was right. This second person was an integral part of the emperor.

Cassian finally turned to face her, his eyes still cold, but now there was something in them that Marie couldn't recognize—a mixture of surprise and… approval?

“Interesting,” he said slowly. “This man…” He paused for a moment, then added, “You saw something most people don’t. You are truly insightful, Marie.”

Marie felt her face turn a little red at these words, but she tried to look confident.

- Thank you, your majesty. I just wanted to convey what I felt.

Cassian nodded, his gaze still fixed on the portrait.

- I hope that this feeling was correct. Perhaps you have revealed something that even I have long forgotten.

His words hung in the air, and Marie didn't know what to say. Her thoughts were still occupied with this mystery - who was this man with black hair and blue eyes?

Cassian stared at the portrait, his golden eyes seeming to take in every detail. But his thoughts were already swirling around Marie, standing next to him. "Interesting girl," flashed through his mind. "Sees things even I don't notice…"

His face remained impassive, but a slight, barely noticeable smile crept into the corners of his lips. He finally straightened up slowly, turned to Marie, and in a light tone that sounded almost like a confession, said:

- I liked it. As I promised, you will receive a large sum for your work. Tomorrow you will be taken back home. And I think the rumors about you being a master of your craft were true.

Marie couldn't hide her embarrassment when she heard these words. Her heart was still beating fast and her thoughts were confused by the unexpected praise. She looked away, feeling her cheeks turn slightly pink. Despite all the confidence she had put into her work, she now felt like she was being praised too much.

"Your Majesty," she began, smiling slightly embarrassedly, "you probably overestimate me. I simply did what seemed right to me. I... can't call myself a master, that's too strong a word."

Cassian raised an eyebrow slightly, and something like mild surprise flickered in his eyes, as if he rarely encountered such humble people in his circle. His golden eyes studied her face carefully.

"Modesty is a rare quality among those who consider themselves masters," he said, bowing his head slightly. "But, Marie, you see what others do not notice. That is your mastery. Sometimes it is more important to see the soul than to simply convey the appearance. And that is what you have done."

Marie lowered her eyes and clasped her hands slightly, as if trying to find the words to explain her feelings. She wanted to say something else, but she knew that arguing with the Emperor was not the best idea. Her inner voice whispered that she had done something important, but the feeling that she was simply following her instincts was stronger.

"I was just trying to capture what I felt," she said quietly. "And maybe sometimes I think it's not so much talent as... luck. I'm glad you liked it, but I'm far from perfect."

Cassian chuckled slightly, his eyes softening a little, as if he was pleasantly surprised by her words.

"Luck, you say?" he said, nodding slightly. "Luck has nothing to do with it. You have the rare gift of seeing more than is on the surface. People may call themselves masters of technique, but only a few can grasp what is hidden in the eyes and hearts of others. And you are one of those few.

Marie felt her heart beat even faster. The words made her feel both proud and embarrassed. She slowly looked up at Cassian, trying to discern how sincere his words were. But in those golden eyes, despite their coldness, she saw something that touched her.

"He is alone," she thought again, her thoughts returning to what she had seen in the portrait. It seemed to her that behind that coldness and power there was an abyss of loneliness that could never be filled. Cassian was eternal, but that did not make him free.

She found it difficult to find the words:

"Thank you for your kind words, Your Majesty. But perhaps it is because..." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "I think there is more to every person if you look closely enough."

The Emperor nodded, his gaze becoming thoughtful.

- This, Marie, is the power of art. Sometimes it can show what a person doesn’t know about himself.

He came closer to the painting, looking again at the man with black hair and bright blue eyes depicted next to him. Cassian was silent for a long moment, and Marie noticed how his lips pressed together slightly, and his gaze slowed, as if he was absorbed in a memory he didn't intend to share with anyone.

Finally, the Emperor, slowly raising his hand and touching the edge of the painting with his fingers, said, as if talking more to himself:

— It’s interesting that you were able to grasp… even things that I had long forgotten.

Marie wanted to ask who this man was, but she held back her curiosity. She felt that this moment was too personal, and her task now was simply to be there, without disturbing the silence.

"You surprised me, Marie," he said a little louder, stepping back from the canvas and looking at her again. "And not many can boast of that."

Marie was embarrassed again, but this time her embarrassment was mixed with pride.

“Thank you, your majesty,” she replied with a slight smile. “It is a great honor for me.”

Cassian nodded, his face returning to its usual calm, but now there was a warm sparkle in his eyes.

“Tomorrow you will return home, as agreed,” he continued. “But know that I will remember this portrait. And perhaps this will not be the last time you will find yourself here in the palace.”

Marie felt her heart flutter. These words sounded like a harbinger of something greater, but what exactly, she did not yet know.

Marie finished her story with a sigh, her gaze wandering somewhere in the distance, as if she were back in the very room where she had once met Emperor Cassian. The children sitting in front of her listened with bated breath, their eyes shining with interest, and their faces expressing respect and admiration.

"This is what I remember about him," Marie said quietly, her voice filled with warmth, but also a little sadness. "I saw him in person and spoke with him. It was a great honor for me then, and even now, after so many years, I remember our conversation, every word he said.

She paused, thinking for a moment, and then added, with a slight hint of sadness in her voice:

- At that moment I thought he would outlive me. But I was wrong.

Her words hung in the air, and silence filled the room. The children, as if enchanted by her story, looked at her, and seemed to be trying to imagine what Cassian was like, what his voice sounded like, and what his mysterious golden eyes looked like.

Mom, who had been silently listening to the story until then, suddenly leaned forward, frowning slightly.

"So you really did meet him, Marie?" she asked cautiously, as if she didn't quite believe it. "But you always said it was so long ago..."

Marie smiled slightly, her gaze warming.

- It was a long time ago, yes. And it all seems so far away, as if it was in another life. But... I remember everything. This day has remained in my memory forever.

“What did he tell you?” one of the children asked with genuine curiosity, fingering the edges of his shirt as if in anticipation.

"He said I surprised him," Marie smiled softly, remembering. "And that it was a rare thing. He was strict, but at the same time there was something very... human about him. And despite his strength and power, I always saw him not just as a ruler, but as a person who also experienced feelings - loneliness, regret... even loss.

“He seemed so strong, so eternal,” Mom added, joining the conversation. “But I never thought that an immortal emperor could have weaknesses.”

Marie nodded slowly.

— So many thought. But the longer you live, the more you lose. And despite his strength, I think loneliness was what consumed him most. He had seen so many centuries, and that meant he had seen everything he held dear go.

The children were silent, trying to comprehend what they had heard. At that moment, it became clear that even such a majestic figure as the emperor was not free from pain and loss.

One of the children, a girl with bright blue eyes, said quietly:

- You know, grandma... he doesn't seem so scary to me. I thought he was cold and cruel, but you described him in a completely different way.

Marie looked at her granddaughter with warmth and smiled slightly.

"He was a complicated man. But even the strongest people can be vulnerable, my dear. It's important to remember that every person, even someone as great as Cassian, had their own story and their own feelings.

The children's mother stood up, shaking her head slightly.

"We all knew him as a great ruler, but your story, Marie, suggests that his story was much deeper than just his reign. And perhaps no one ever knew what he was really like.

Marie took a deep breath, once again falling into her thoughts.

"Perhaps," she said softly. "But I am happy that for a moment I saw in him not only a ruler, but also a man. That moment will remain in my memory forever."

The children sitting on the floor remained silent for a while, and then one of the boys suddenly stood up cheerfully and said:

- But, Grandma, you still outlived him! He was immortal, but you... you're still here with us!

Everyone laughed, and even Marie couldn't hold back her laughter, which filled the room with warmth and life.

She leaned over, hugged her grandchildren, and, looking up at their mother, whispered:

- Maybe it's true. Immortality is not in how many years you live, but in how long you will be remembered. And perhaps the most important thing is the mark we leave in the hearts of others.

The chapter came to an end, but there remained an invisible thread in it, connecting the past and the present, stories and lives that continue to live in memories, like a warm light illuminating the future.