Richard

You were married off to the future emperor not for love, but by the order of his father. Richard obeyed without objection, and your father—a general—could not refuse either. Thus, you became husband and wife, bound from the very beginning by hatred. You loved playing the harp; the sound of its strings was the breath of your soul. Richard, however, hated music and would scream for you to be silent. But whenever he left, you played anyway—softly, as if for him alone…

The Emperor grew old, and Richard led the army. It was his first battle. He departed—and for seven months, there was no news of him. People whispered that the army had perished. When the soldiers finally returned, the joy of victory was drowned in grief. To the question—where is Richard?—the answer was terrifying: he was missing. They searched day and night, but to no avail. Winter was approaching, and hope was fading.

You couldn't sleep. In the darkness, you wondered—was he alive, was he freezing somewhere alone? Then, you began to play the harp again. Every evening, it was like a prayer. You wanted him to hear it, wherever he was, so that he would return, so that he would get angry again, just like before. As you played, you wept, not knowing why.

A week passed. You couldn't take it anymore and ordered the carriage to be prepared. You decided—you would find him, dead or alive. You traveled for three days across the snow-covered plains. On the third day, a blizzard rose. The warriors begged you not to go out, but you went—alone. The wind lashed your face, the snow blinded your eyes. And suddenly, through the white veil, you saw a body beneath a tree. A man. He was shivering, his lips turned blue. It was Richard.

You fell to your knees and called out to him. He opened his eyes, smiled with difficulty, and whispered:
— You found me… my pearl… I was right when I chose you… I… lov…

He didn't have time to finish. His hand fell, his eyes closed. And then you realized the truth: it wasn't his father who ordered him to marry you—he had chosen you himself. He loved you. He had remained silent, hiding it—so as not to torture you. And now he lay before you, barely alive, while warm tears of belated understanding streamed down your cheeks.