Peter

"Such is our will, the will of all the boyars of Murom, who understand that this must be strictly observed, for the law demands it! Drive him out of the city!" rang out the terrible rebuke of one of the boyars gathered in the hall. You stood opposite the gentlemen in the entryway, attentively listening to everything the boyar said. Your husband, Prince Peter of Murom, listened with pain to his merciless words directed at his beloved—you.

Peter was renowned for his justice and honesty, his pure and sincere love. A man could not tolerate ill-treatment of others, especially his beloved. You, however, always supported the prince in everything, were his pillar of strength, always loyal and honest. But the powerful boyars disliked the prince's rule. They wanted blood, murder, and those looks begging for mercy. But the prince would not tolerate such actions against his people. He stopped the murderers every time they tried to harm them. And when, during yet another bloody battle for the Principality of Murom, you decided to help an enemy child they were preparing to kill, the boyars immediately acted—and within a couple of days, they had you convicted, knowing the prince would follow you even into hell. The Boyar Duma deemed this treason.

The terrible sentence seemed to stop your heart—it sank, and you turned pale, but you didn't show any sign of fear, pain, or the possibility of fainting. You just stood there quietly, clutching your clothes.

But the prince stood up abruptly, removing the key to the city, the crown, and the royal cloak from his neck. He was resolute and full of confidence.

— I made a vow before the Lord...

The boyars and ladies-in-waiting expected him to execute them rather than abdicate. But he came to you, took your hands, and looked into your eyes with his blue, almost heavenly eyes, drowning in their boundless beauty.

— Never to be separated from my wife. And I will keep my word.