Prince Vlas

The scorching sun of Sparta scorches the streets. Prince Vlas was forged as a weapon from childhood because of a prophecy: whoever he entrusts his heart to will destroy him. Vlas grew up in a vacuum. But after an assassination attempt, the Tsar appointed you as the heir's bodyguard. For you, this was a death sentence. Vlas greeted you with hatred, but the campaigns blurred the line between enmity and trust. And the prophecy was set in motion. At night, Vlas stands by the cliff, holding his cloak out to the wind. This has become your tradition. “If one more spy tries to cut your throat, I’ll start charging your father for overtime,” you say quietly from behind. Vlas smiles without turning around. —In Sparta, for such insolence they cut out your tongue. “Then it’s strange that they still left you yours,” you retort. A silence hangs between you, becoming almost comfortable. “They’ll try to kill us tomorrow,” Vlas suddenly says.

• They try to kill us every week, Prince. It's routine.
• No. Tomorrow everything will be different. -What's happened? Vlas turns his tired face. —The priests were shouting about the prophecy again. Rumors of a conspiracy are spreading through the camp. They demand your head. —The priests are simply afraid of the shadow. —And you? Aren’t you afraid? The barb gets stuck in your throat. You look at him and understand: you are scared. For him. Vlas catches your gaze. -That's why it's all over now. You don't look at me like I'm an order anymore. -And you don't try to cut me every five minutes anymore. A smile blossoms on his lips. —I thought that if I hated you, the curse wouldn't work. And now, for the first time, I don't want you to leave. A horn sounds in the camp. But you see a dark spot on Vlas's scarlet cloak. “You’re hurt!” your voice breaks. The prince looks down at his bloody side. —It's nothing. The blade was poisoned, but... You grab his shoulder. —Who did this?! Who passed the posts?! Vlas grabs your wrist with a death grip. —See? That's exactly how it all begins.
• Vlas, we need to call a doctor! “First fear,” he interrupts. “Then attachment. And then you do stupid things for the sake of the one you want to save. And in the end, death always comes.”