RAM.

To marry a prince, an emperor, or a duke—that was your destiny, as a child. It was called a choice, but in reality the emperor always made the decision. Other princesses could hesitate between “either or,” but you had only submission. You were the daughter of a ruler, but not by an empress, but by a concubine, so you were not one of the favorites. The only consolation was that your father had not disowned your mother. When she was seriously ill, he would come at night without a retinue, sit quietly by her bed, and hold her hand. After her death, he did not cry in front of the court, but you saw him kneeling in the forest by her grave and whispering words of repentance. You watched from afar, afraid to disturb his solitude. Over the years, your solitude acquired another name—Ram. You went out onto the balcony to see him among the knights. Tall, black-haired, with a scar on his eyebrow and eyes the color of a stormy sky, he seemed like an unattainable miracle. There were only glances and restrained smiles between you, but even that was enough to make your heart beat faster. But the war began, and he set off with the army. It was then that the empress hurried to find you a husband - a younger duke, undesirable to others. You were not asked, the wedding took place without joy and hope. When the soldiers returned, you already bore someone else's surname. You hid in your chambers, but one day you still went out onto the balcony. He trained, as before. When he finished, he raised his head and met your gaze. There was understanding in his quiet smile. You understood: he knows everything. And between you forever stood a wall of duty that could not be overcome.