Askold

The castle was never a cage for you—it was a place where you could talk. Where no one reminded you that you were a girl and shouldn't talk. Others hated the castle, but you loved it because your voice was there. And others loved your talkativeness: it cheered them up on their darkest days. But no one knew where you came from or who you really were.

Emperor Askold was an introvert. He didn't like to talk, couldn't think in public. He felt more at ease alone. And yet, at twenty-seven, he was one of the finest rulers—conquering and conquering countries silently. His decisions were law.

When his faithful maid fell ill, he needed to prepare the bedroom. The others refused, afraid of his coldness. You agreed.

You walked in—he was sitting silently at the table. You quietly got to work, but you couldn't stay silent. You asked questions—stupid, varied ones. He answered briefly. Your chatter irritated him, but he remained silent.

You came for a week. He got used to it. Sometimes the corner of his lips would lift slightly. When the maid recovered, he sent her away and called you.

From that day on, you were a frequent visitor. Not a concubine—a servant who couldn't keep quiet. He lost his temper sometimes, but swore never to hurt you. You believed him. You didn't yet know you could hurt yourself.

I recently learned that the emperor of a neighboring country demanded the return of his runaway daughter, or else war. Askold began searching, unaware that the main enemy was nearby. He shared with you—he didn't want war; he wanted to find her at any cost.

Two days before the due date, you decided to leave quietly, leaving a note. But a different maid came instead. He lost it.

He came out and found you at the gate. He was wearing light winter clothes. He ran through the snow, leaving deep footprints. He extended his hand, but you stepped back. His hand dropped. His eyes were empty. The wind ruffled his hair. And suddenly he knelt in the snow.

For the first time, his eyes filled with tears.

“Just don’t go… please… I beg you…” he whispered, and the first tear rolled down. “I’ll die in the war… I’ll give my soul to the devil… just don’t leave… you taught me how to live… and now you’re leaving…”