Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was a day like any other, the sun shining through the clouds in the sky while Fyodor admired the flowers sitting in the garden. He was alone in the vast amount of colorful flowers, enjoying the silence given to him. However, that didn’t last very long, as there was a new voice calling out to him. “Your Highness, Her Majesty humbly requests to talk with you,” a servant said, steps closing in on Fyodor. The latter only sighed as he got up, mourning the loss of the beautiful atmosphere he had experienced prior.

His mother, the queen of the kingdom, rarely ever cared for her son, if not for her wants and needs. Fyodor had to admit the feeling was mutual. The only reason he remained within those closed gates of the castle was that his plan hadn’t reached its peak yet. Family, friends, and servants were only pawns for a game to be played in the future. So far, he hadn’t intended to put them to use too much, only fulfilling small needs.

Enough of that; it wasn’t of any importance to the present.

The prince arose from his sitting position, brushing off the tiny dirt particles on his pants. “I’m coming,” he replied lazily, aware the servant had already left. Taking his time, Fyodor followed the path the servant had come from. After all, there was no need to hurry, step after step leaving behind dust trails. A few minutes passed before he stood in front of the throne room, the servants next to the doors bowing. “Mother, you called for me?” he cried out, words polite while his tone was anything but. “Yes, that is right. You shall come in.”

With that, the doors fully opened, revealing the glory of the vast room where the rulers of the kingdom sat in their thrones. After stepping in gracefully, Fyodor seated himself on the unoccupied throne reserved for him. “My dear son,” the queen began as soon as her son was paying attention to her, “as of now, you have yet to obtain a wife, or husband for that matter, on your side. Soon, you will be old enough to rule over this kingdom. As you know, you cannot do so alone. Therefore, we have arranged a ball where you shall make new connections.”

Unwavering, Fyodor’s gaze remained on his mother, intent on studying the expression on her face. “However, if you fail to perform so, we will look over the ball ourselves and find one best suited for you,” she continued, eyes glinting with a challenge. “I see,” the prince merely responded, unbothered by the words said. “If you want that, mother, who am I to oppose you,” he whispered with an ambiguous smirk, sweet honey dripping from those words. As presumed, the saying took effect as a smile on the queen’s face, seemingly perfectly dancing along the strings.

“That is right, my dear. Now, go and change into different clothing. The ball starts at six p.m. sharp, do not forget.”

Slowly, Fyodor rose once more while nodding obediently. Without any objections, he left the room, leaving it behind soundless. Servants surrounded the prince under the king’s order, wanting to assist him with picking an outfit. Fyodor merely brushed them off, continuing his path alone as he saw no need for the servants’ help. After arriving at his bedroom, he closed the doors almost silently, eyes scanning the area inside. As he opened the drawer containing his outfits, he started to drift into thought.

Why hadn’t they informed Fyodor of the ball earlier? It was evident preparations regarding it had already been done, as it takes more than one day to complete. Despite preparing for the ball presumably over a few weeks, Fyodor had only been informed a few hours prior. Why was that? Wasn’t he trustworthy enough? “Although she seems to trust me so very much,” he whispered in a daze, thinking over the possibilities. Trust was a powerful weapon. If he didn’t obtain it, how else would everything fall into place?

Sighing, Fyodor took out an outfit he deemed worthy and tossed it on his bed. Even just the slightest suspicion could make everything crumble. He assumed he would have to keep an eye on his parents’ behavior at the ball. Perchance, getting him married was akin to someone trying to put shackles on him, trying to restrain his every action. How bothersome, indeed. Yet, those thoughts might’ve been just a big miscalculation, and the reason he didn’t know was merely due to its lack of importance.

Either way, it was best to stay on his toes. After all, it was better to consider too much than too less.

Fyodor gently removed his current pair of clothing before putting on the freshly picked outfit. With a quick look at the clock, he was able to determine he had a few hours left to kill. Humming softly, he let himself fall on his bed as he thought about new possibilities. There would be unknown people at the party, all of high status. He solely had to rip away one of those people and web them into a part of his plan. Grabbing the initiative would also further the trust he hoped to build with his parents. If he disregarded his responsibility, he would be met with distrust.

Another few beats of silence went by before getting once again disrupted by someone. “Your Highness, upon the preparations we have yet to undergo, we would like you to be present,” the voice of a servant came from outside the room, knocking on the doors. Smiling in slight disdain, Fyodor pulled himself up, reaching for the door. “Say,” he spoke while opening the doors, an amused glint in his eyes, “how long have you been planning this ball for?” It took a bit for the servant to respond as he had to first think about the timespan. “Roughly two weeks, I don’t remember properly.”

Nodding, Fyodor walked past him, noticing that the servant didn’t hesitate to tell him. “That is good to know,” he simply said as he watched the other guy catch up with him. “What is it that you need me for now if you have already done most of the preparations without me?” Fyodor decided to ask, tempted. Oblivious, the servant replied, “There is not much to do for Your Highness, only a few adjustments.” With that, both reached the glorious ballroom, the chandelier hanging dangerously above them.

As expected, the room was filled with fancy stands of food and drinks, the light above illuminating it all. Everything was decorated gracefully, not a single spot unpleasant to the eye. Seemingly in a hurry, the servant led the prince to a few places here and there, showing him things he either didn’t like or feared the prince wouldn’t. As stated prior, those were mere adjustments, only taking up to an hour or two to complete. Therefore, Fyodor still had another two hours remaining to prepare himself.

A few other servants came in from time to time to fix his clothing if it was just the slightest bit off. Thankfully, they left him all alone afterward, respecting the privacy the prince needed. Returning to his room, Fyodor leaned against the window frame, watching the wind toying with the flowers outside. He presumed no one paid it any mind if he stayed in his chamber the following minutes. Most likely, he could spend an hour without any other disturbance before he had to leave his silence behind.

How badly he wished for the snow to fall down the sky instead of the sun beaming at him. The way the flowers would get taken over by the snow, replaced by the beauty of the snowflakes. Despite Fyodor’s tendency to get cold effortlessly, the snow was one of the prettiest things to exist in his eyes. Truthfully, it calmed him down. Yet, he liked to think red would accompany the white very well, each complimenting one other. Fyodor longed to, perchance, see it someday.

Before he knew it, time had passed, and there was another knock on his door. “Excuse me, Her Majesty has requested your presence already in case some guests come early,” a female voice called, presumably the queen’s maid. Putting on his effortless, polite smile, he stepped outside and thanked the maid. Together, they walked to the attraction of the day, light shining through the halls of it. Both the king and the queen sat in their thrones upon Fyodor’s arrival, patiently waiting for their son.

Without any other words, he seated himself on the remaining throne, watching the maid return to her position by the queen’s side. “Dear, please look for someone suited for you by the end of the day. Otherwise, we will take matters into our own hands,” the queen said calmly, expression conveying no weakness. At that point, Fyodor wondered if that same expression would remain even if surrounded by blood, but that was no matter to him now. “Yes, mother,” he responded just as calmly, despite his disinterest.

Soon after, people started flowing in, coming rather early than later, as anticipated. The before silent hall got filled with loud, cheerful voices, laughter ringing through every ear. Scanning every person, Fyodor found himself to be bored as he saw no one, in particular, sticking out to him. ‘It doesn’t matter who it is, anyway,’ he thought silently. It didn’t take long for the king to rise proudly, drawing everyone’s attention to him immediately.

“Welcome, everybody! Please, enjoy the ball we constructed for our dear son and every one of you!”

Cheers filled the room as the music started, and people turned to one another to dance. For a bit, Fyodor stayed on his throne, intent on watching the behavior of the guests. Some girls, and even boys, were looking at him from afar, presumably wondering when he’d join the dance. They chattered among themselves, about him or other people in the crowd. Other people that were by themselves looked like any regular nobles, nothing too out of the ordinary. Fyodor figured he had to step down to determine the least bothersome person.

As he got up, he noticed the smiles he received from his parents, eager for him to obtain a partner. ‘How foolish,’ he said in his head, approaching the crowd. Upon acknowledging the prince’s appearance, people surrounded him, requesting a dance. Fyodor merely smiled, taking the hand of many girls. One after another, he twirled them around, exchanging some small talk. Throughout the dances, he could feel a set of eyes fixed on him, making him uneasy. In the vast crowd, many guests were watching him, and yet there was this one singular gaze that bothered him.

After ending the dance with one girl, Fyodor searched for the person watching him. Then, he saw it, saw him. White hair was tied into a braid, one eye covered up with a card while the other had a scar across. His clothes were of noble quality, yet had elements of a jester. As soon as their eyes met, the man stepped toward the prince. “May I request a dance with you, dear prince,” he said while bowing, extending his hand. He looked like a performer performing to his audience, Fyodor observed, a smile stretching across his features.

‘Strange, I scanned the entire room beforehand. Someone like him would’ve stuck out,’ he observed in his mind, smile widening. ‘This should be interesting.’

“I accept,” Fyodor responded as he took the hand of the man, letting himself be pulled along. Together, they danced across the floor, joining the crowd. “You haven’t told me your name yet,” he reminded the other in the midst of it, slightly interested. “Oh, I haven’t? Why don’t you guess then?” the man challenged, his one eye glinting with something akin to amusement. Fyodor liked that challenge. “If I can guess your name, would you fill me in on why you were staring so intently at me?”

The man’s eye widened slightly, but went back so quickly anyone aside from Fyodor wouldn’t have noticed. Soon afterward, it got replaced by a smirk. “Fine with me.” Humming satisfactorily, Fyodor changed their dance positions so that he was the one leading. “Your clothing and jewelry suggest you are a prince, considering other nobles don’t wear this fabric type. For coming to this ball with your perfectly clean clothes, you must be from a kingdom not so far away, as there are other princes and princesses whose clothing has wrinkles due to a long ride.”

He stopped for a second, trying to read the expression of the man he was dancing with. After noticing his unwavering gaze, Fyodor continued, “Now, there are only three kingdoms close to this one. One of them only has two princesses, while the other has a prince who is already married and would find no purpose in joining this ball. This leaves the last kingdom. The prince’s status is unknown, but his name is known throughout the entire kingdom.”

Letting silence set in for a dramatic effect, Fyodor now looked at the man once more. “You are Nikolai Gogol, aren’t you?”

First, Nikolai’s face remained stoic, before he threw his head back and began laughing. “You’re something else for sure,” he said after he calmed down from laughing, ignoring the looks he was receiving. “You’re correct, my name is Nikolai Gogol, and I came here to meet you personally, Fyodor Dostoevsky,” he announced proudly, letting himself be spun around by the other, although his movement was stiff. “What did I do to deserve such an honor?” Fyodor asked with a tone of slight mockery, noticing how Nikolai seemed uncomfortable being led around.

“Nothing much of importance technically speaking. My parents forced me to come, and I merely wanted to find out who you are!” Nikolai exclaimed cheerfully at the end, taking the lead once more. Fyodor scoffed slightly at the loss of control, yet continued their conversation, “Marriage, I assume?” Upon receiving a nod from Nikolai without any further elaboration, Fyodor smiled. For a second, he debated his options. Usually, he wouldn’t have revealed that much about himself, yet Nikolai seemed so intriguing. Furthermore, exposing information gains trust.

“If so, the same is with me. My parents arranged this ball for me to obtain a partner at my side,” Fyodor disclosed, smile widening at the glint he witnessed in the other’s eye. Then, Nikolai spoke, expression changing from cheerful into sour, “Marriage is only tying someone down, locking a bird in its cage. If I were to marry, it’d be like taking away my freedom even more.” They spun in circles, Nikolai twirling Fyodor from time to time while the latter was wearing an amused expression.

As if suddenly realizing what he had said, Nikolai awkwardly laughed. “I apologize if my rants make you uncomfortable,” he followed with quickly, hoping to clear the tense air. However, Fyodor merely shook his head, expression shaping into one of determination. “No need to apologize, I view it the same way. My parents forcing me to marry is like putting shackles on my ankles, preventing me to move out of line. I understand you.” As if struck by lightning, Nikolai suddenly lost the fight for control as Fyodor took the lead once more.

“I can pose an agreement. How about,” he dipped Nikolai slightly, faces closer than before, “we marry each other. In this case, I can grant you the freedom you so dearly desire.” Instead of pulling away, Nikolai stared Fyodor directly into his eyes, the two of them panting due to the amount of dancing they had done prior. “An agreement benefits both parties. How will I be of help to you? Besides, how can I believe you to grant me my wish? In the end, I’m still bound by the marriage.”

Not looking away from the other’s eye, Fyodor replied, “Don’t worry, I’ll be able to put you to good use if needed. For the second question, you just have to trust me.” That seemed to have done the trick as Nikolai laughed the tiniest bit anew. “I accept,” Nikolai replied, mimicking Fyodor’s tone from before. With that, he pulled himself up, breaking the tension between them. “I am looking forward to our next interactions, dear Fed-ya∼” he hummed, bowing dramatically with a smile. After their dance had ended, more women and men started surrounding Fyodor, blocking Nikolai from his view.

As soon as he had the opportunity to look once more, the man was gone. Amused, Fyodor turned away from the crowd, not needing to dance needlessly with anyone anymore. ‘This did turn out to be considerably more interesting,’ he mused to himself in thought. Ignoring the disappointed looks on the people’s faces, he turned toward his parents and ascended the stairs. Upon standing in front of the rulers of this kingdom, Fyodor announced, “I have decided whom I want to marry.”

<><><><><><><>

“So you want Nikolai Gogol to be your husband?”

Fyodor and the king were sitting at a table in the dining hall, the queen having left prior. The two of them had remained silent before the king broke it with a question, tone disdainful. Fyodor, acknowledging the intention, raised his eyebrow. “Is there a problem, dear father?” Grumbling, the king couldn’t decide whether to nod or shake his head. “It would be better for you to choose a woman to obtain an heir yourself. Marrying a man would end the bloodline.”

Unbothered, Fyodor eyed his father. “Mother has agreed to it, so why haven’t you? After all, marrying him is better than marrying nobody,” he replied, his voice confident. Perchance, those words wouldn’t have been enough, so Fyodor added, “He is the only one I deemed worthy enough within the crowd of people.” It seemed as if realization dawned upon the king. “You are correct; we did decide to give you the option. My apologies,” he said, oblivious to the satisfied glint in his son’s eyes.

Playing the card of “he’s the perfect one” was a move Fyodor enjoyed pulling. Logically speaking, it was no lie. Nikolai Gogol had indeed been the most interesting person in the ballroom the day prior, fascinating Fyodor in more ways than one. His presence had been intriguing from start to finish, leaving no space for boredom. Considerably, everyone else Fyodor had danced with couldn’t even compare to Nikolai, his mere existence sticking out on its own.

As Fyodor got up, he glanced at his father, who appeared to be deep in thought. Deciding not to bother him any further, Fyodor withdrew from the dining hall, making his way to his mother. Regarding the wedding, they had to get in contact with Nikolai’s family and plan together. If possible, it could be arranged for the next month, Fyodor’s mother had told him. He hadn’t opposed or agreed to that statement, simply accepting it at that moment.

Knocking on the doors of the queen’s study, Fyodor called out, “Mother, you wished to talk to me, correct?” Shuffling noises could be heard from inside before the doors opened, revealing the well-dressed woman. The guards standing by the doors bowed for both, backs straight. “Come in; we have a lot to talk about,” she said, signalizing for her son to follow her. After performing said actions, the doors closed anew, creating a silence between the two.

However, it didn’t last very long as the queen pulled out the letter she had been writing. “This contains all of the information we have gathered so far. If the opposing party agrees, we will arrange a meeting tomorrow to talk about the details in person,” the woman explained, standing tall and still like expected of a queen. “Please read the letter for me. If there are any adjustments to make, go ahead. I want this to be of uttermost importance and perfection.”

Doing as he was told, Fyodor skimmed through the letter, finding not one flaw within. After he finished reading, he returned the piece of paper. “Not a single mistake made itself present,” Fyodor admitted, using polite speech to sweeten the compliment even further. Presumably, his mother smiled, satisfied with herself and her son. “Bring this letter to the delivery boy inside the garden. I have a bit of work to continue on my own,” she said gracefully, giving the letter back to Fyodor.

The latter had already been stepping toward the door before his mother spoke again, “The meeting will be at one p.m. tomorrow, do not forget.” Fyodor felt an odd sense of deja vu at the words chosen, smiling seemingly as he responded, “As if I would ever.” Without any more words to be exchanged, Fyodor exited the room, stepping in the direction of the garden where the delivery boy was presumed to have been. With a simple flick of his wrist, he could’ve thrown the letter into fire and let it burn alongside the trust he had built with his mother. However, the time hadn’t come yet.

Therefore, Fyodor merely continued to walk through the halls, head swaying in thoughts. It took some time until he finally arrived at the gate leading to the outside. Flowers were spread colorfully along the entrance, the sun illuminating them from above. As soon as Fyodor entered the garden, he searched for the man. Despite not having gotten a description, he could vaguely imagine what he looked like. Dirt crunched beneath his feet as he walked across the field, eyes scanning the area.

At long last, he saw a man roughly in his twenties standing on the sidewalk, his gaze fixed on the sky. “Why are you looking at the sky when you could admire the flowers around you?” The man flinched when he saw the prince approach, immediately bowing when he realized. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. I was waiting for the letter I should deliver and let my thoughts drift away. The flowers are gorgeous,” the delivery boy hurried to say, presumably scared the prince would’ve thought wrongly of him.

Fyodor had done no such thing but was amused nonetheless. Smiling politely, he flicked his hands as a signal for the man to stand up. “I have the letter you were waiting for,” he said while holding out the piece of paper. When the delivery boy seemed to beam, Fyodor wondered how long the man had been standing there. “My deepest gratitude for Your Highness. I will deliver this at the highest speed,” he replied, eyes scanning the post for the address. As soon as he found what he was searching for, the delivery boy bowed anew before leaving with quick steps.

As he watched the man go, Fyodor gazed upon the flowers. With fascination, he spotted one white flower amidst many bright ones. It was easy to spot and so unique in comparison to every other one. All alone it remained there, swaying in the wind. Fyodor stepped onto the field and crouched down to inspect it further. There were no other white flowers, it alone sticking out. Gracefully, he plucked the flower, admiring it in his hand. Compared to before, the vast flower field was now lacking one unique part.

“Nikolai Gogol,” he whispered lowly as he got up, “let’s see if I can let you bloom as well.”

Having said that, Fyodor retreated from the field, returning to the sidewalk. As he walked, he made sure not to let go of the flower in his hand. Upon entering the inside and arriving at his study, he called to the servants, “Bring me a glass of water!” After the servants eagerly fetched a glass of water, Fyodor took it and set foot in his study. While the servants were closing the door, the prince sat on his chair, placing the flower inside the glass.

“I cannot wait for the meeting tomorrow,” he said softly as he watched the white flower swim through the water.

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Fyodor awoke through the soft hammering of rain against his window, the outside gray and gloomy. As he got up, he gazed upon the flower standing on his nightstand, its head slightly bent over. Humming, Fyodor glanced at the time, surprised no one had bothered to wake him as it was already past ten. After stretching to get rid of the sleepiness in his body, he reached for clothes to wear, putting them on swiftly. When that was done, he departed from his room, closing the doors elegantly.

Other than one might expect, the dining hall was empty, and Fyodor’s parents were nowhere to be found. He scoffed slightly as he called over for a servant. “May I ask, have the queen and king not eaten yet?” he asked, merely out of interest. “Oh no, they have,” the servant quickly reassured him, “roughly an hour ago. We still have the food, however, if you desire it.” Nodding, the prince let the servants bring him the food before dismissing them so he could be alone.

Eating in silence, Fyodor thought about his plans for the day. The delivery boy had returned late evening the day prior, delivering a fresh letter. In it, the other party had agreed to the marriage, and the meeting, which would take place at one p.m. as talked about. If there were more meetings to come, they would switch up the locations. For now, the place to meet was the palace of Fyodor’s family, presumably in the garden, as Fyodor assumed. After all, those flowers gave a fabulous impression to those that had the chance to take a glance at them.

Fyodor had no further plans for himself, merely interested in seeing both his fiancé anew, as well as his parents. Getting to know them could potentially lead to his plan developing, and his knowledge of those around him widening. After years of planning, the opportunity of marriage seemed to prove itself more convenient than previously thought. Despite marriage tying someone down, it would help establish relationships, Fyodor realized. Perchance, his parents were giving him more chances than they could acknowledge.

Fyodor arose after finishing his breakfast, deciding to head to the throne room. However, before he could make it far, a servant rushed to him. “Your Highness, Her Majesty wants to talk. Please, go ahead and meet her in the garden,” she told him, leaving upon fulfilling her duty. Turning on his heel, Fyodor instead walked along the halls leading to the outside. Upon arriving at the destination, he saw the table under the pavilion decorated, filled with plates and cutlery of gold. The rain seemed to have stopped temporarily, even if there were dark clouds present in the sky.

“There you are! I thought you would never come,” the queen exclaimed, looking at her son with something akin to slight disdain. Smiling politely, Fyodor merely responded, “My apologies; no one had informed me earlier.” Satisfied, his mother returned to the task at hand. With a flick of her wrist, she motioned for the prince to come along. “We will be having the meeting right here. I expect you to be on your best behavior, understood?” The queen had her back turned to Fyodor, yet he presumed she was wearing a dignified expression.

“When am I not? Do you, by chance, not trust me?” Fyodor dared to ask, eyes dangerously fixated on his mother. The latter let out a chuckle at the words spoken. “My dear, of course, I do. But who am I if not making sure?” Humming contently, Fyodor smiled as he watched the pavilion get beautified. “I understand.” Then, the two came to a halt in front of the king. “Together, we will make sure everything is perfect, and then, my son, you shall dress more appropriately,” he added, eyeing the prince with respect.

‘More appropriately’ was an exaggeration. Fyodor had already been wearing clothing of good fabric, yet his parents didn’t deem it worthy enough. As he saw no room for arguments, he merely nodded. “If that is what you say, father, I will perform as such,” Fyodor said, lips dripping with honey as he pretended to be the perfect boy his parents desired to have. With that, the three spent their time finishing up preparations. ‘It has to be perfect!’ the king and queen kept repeating.

After those were done, Fyodor excused himself and returned to his room as he still had to change clothes. Upon entering, he immediately opened his wardrobe, selecting a piece of clothing his parents would deem worthy. When he changed into it, he threw a glance at the clock. It told him he had roughly ten minutes to prepare, plenty if you asked him. While people liked to appear early for the ball, Nikolai didn’t live far away and would presumably be right on time, as that would leave the perfect impression.

Then, Fyodor’s gaze landed on the white flower. It looked so peaceful, yet lonely, in that glass of water. Approaching it, Fyodor merely stared, hands tracing the petals. “Soon, you will be swimming in red water instead,” he whispered fondly, taking the flower out for a second before placing it back into the glass. With one last glance, he left his room, making his way to the garden anew. Fyodor went through the gates of flowers and walked along the sidewalk to get to the decorated pavilion, posture straight.

As soon as he arrived, he and his parents made their way to the entrance of the palace, where the guests were to be expected. Precisely on time, they watched a carriage enter the property, leaving behind dirt trails. Coming to a halt, the coachman hopped off the front of the carriage, moving to open the doors. After that act got carried out, the same man held out a hand for the people inside to take. One after another, the family exited the carriage, each gracefully accepting the hand given to them.

The first was a woman slightly younger than Fyodor’s mother. Her outfit included expensive jewelry and silver earrings shining through her blond locks, steps delightfully. After her appearance followed a slightly older man, hair a light shade of white; it wasn’t due to oldness, more likely natural. His clothing was fitted to be one for a king, immensely accompanied by his unwavering gaze. With a straight posture, he stepped next to his wife, holding his head high.

Then, the last person left the carriage, his posture straight, although strained. His hair was tied in a long braid, dangling behind his shoulders. The uncovered eye searched for something and seemed to have found it as he locked eyes with Fyodor. Grinning, the man joined his parents, gaze never leaving Fyodor’s. Together, the three bowed politely. “It is a pleasure to be here and have this arrangement made,” the woman spoke clearly as she straightened her posture anew.

“The pleasure’s all ours,” the queen announced, voice just as strong. They exchanged smiles and nods, all with respect. “We shall guide you to our garden where the gathering will take place,” her husband declared, leading them away from the palace entrance. Throughout, Nikolai snuck away from his parents’ side to his fiancé. “We meet again so soon,” he whispered to the other, paying attention to not being loud as he did not want their parents to listen to their conversation.

“Considering we’re getting married, this was to be expected,” Fyodor calmly responded, voice just as low and quiet. Chuckling lightly, Nikolai turned away from his fiancé, instead looking up at the sky. “I suppose you’re right,” he hummed, smiling. Their parents exchanged conversations in front of them, the women and men talking separately. Fyodor and Nikolai walked at the end, no one acknowledging them, giving the two enough space to interact.

“Ironic how we’re the reasons our parents met, and yet they don’t pay us any attention,” Nikolai broke the silence again, eye returning to the person next to him. Nodding, Fyodor added, “That’s because we’re but simple tools for our parents to obtain freedom between our kingdoms and to let us lead those someday. After everything, they’re still the ones planning our future.” With that, Nikolai’s smile wavered, a dangerous glint in his eye making itself present. However, before Fyodor could question it, the two families had arrived at the pavilion.

“Please seat yourselves,” Fyodor’s father said, gesturing for the guests and his family to sit down. Nikolai’s family sat on one side of the table while Fyodor’s sat on the other. Opposite Fyodor was his fiancé, the glint in his eye long replaced by a polite smile too strained. Slightly amused, he decided to pay more attention to Nikolai rather than the unnecessary talk of their parents. “Today, we have gathered to speak about the marriage concerning our sons,” his mom began as she folded her hands neatly on the table.

Suddenly, Fyodor felt a nudge beside him, letting him look at his father. “Would you care to show Nikolai around the palace?” the king whispered to his son, intentions visible. Smiling, Fyodor nodded as he got up. “Dear Kolya, want me to show you around?” he asked loud enough for everyone at the table to hear. Nikolai appeared to be relieved upon hearing that suggestion. “If you insist,” he merely responded, rising from the chair he had been sitting on.

Together, Fyodor and Nikolai retreated from the meeting, instead walking along the sidewalk of the garden. “I’m so glad you saved me back there. I would’ve died out of boredom otherwise,” Nikolai exclaimed dramatically, his polite smile wiped off his face. ‘It appears he doesn’t keep up his polite act around me,’ Fyodor noticed with satisfaction. Then, he replied, “My dad urged me to. I have a feeling he simply wanted us to go so they could talk without us hearing.”

Nikolai pouted at that. “How bothersome, but,” he excitedly held up one finger, “exploring the palace is more fun anyway.” ‘And getting to know you,’ Fyodor silently added, eyes wandering over to his fiancé. However, he had no intention of saying it out loud, only keeping it in his head. The other noticed the gaze on him and stared back, lips curving into a slight smirk. Before long, the two had reached the entrance to the inside, flowers hanging above them. Carefully, Nikolai took one of the ones growing a few feet away.

“Isn’t this one so pretty?” he told Fyodor, showing him the flower. It was a purple rose, its thorns prickling Nikolai’s skin until red came out of it. “You’re bleeding,” Fyodor said as a matter-of-fact, eyes switching from the other’s face to his thumb. “I know,” his fiancé said calmly, taking steps toward him. Upon standing face to face, Nikolai brushed Fyodor’s hair away to place the rose behind his ear. “Now it’s even prettier,” he exclaimed cheerfully, hoping to get a reaction out of the other.

It was then that the rain came pouring down, soaking the two. However, neither moved, although there was coverage close. The water of the sky wetted Nikolai’s braid, letting it lose water drops at the tip. Fyodor had to admit; the other looked quite pretty as water dripped down his hair and blood down his finger. They highlighted parts of his features the sun wouldn’t. Not only that, the action prior captured the beauty anew.

Recollecting himself, Fyodor huffed as if unbothered. “If you say so,” he said, arranging his wet hair so it wouldn’t fall in his face, “but let’s go inside to dry our hair.” With that, Nikolai and Fyodor entered the inside, the former a bit disappointed at the lack of a response. After fetching some towels to dry their hair, silence filled the air, the steps and drops of water the only sounds present. Even when they passed several rooms, Fyodor made no comment on them, his mind somewhere else.

“This is the dining hall,” he announced, motioning for his fiancé to follow him further. “Are you hungry?” To that, Nikolai shook his head, gaze wandering around the room. “I’ve eaten before, so no, thank you,” he replied, taking in his surroundings. Acknowledging his disinterest in the food, Fyodor led the other around some more, only showing important rooms to him. After a little tour with close to no talking, they reached Fyodor’s chamber, locked behind doors and guards.

“Don’t you want to show me the inside?” Nikolai asked upon seeing no movement, his head tilting curiously. “Isn’t my room slightly personal?” Fyodor replied with another question, although it was his fault they had ended up there in the first place. “I’m your future husband, so I have the right, don’t I?” challenged Nikolai, his smile teasing. Sighing, Fyodor dismissed his guards, as he did not want them to overhear any parts of the conversation. “I suppose you have a point.”

Thus, both entered the room, sealing the door behind them. “You have a pretty room Fedya,” Nikolai said, exploring the inside. Fyodor only nodded, making his way toward the window. “From this viewpoint, you can still see our parents talking,” he mumbled, loud enough for the other to hear. Interest piqued, his fiancé joined him by the window, gazing outside. The two families seemed to have gotten friendlier over time, even laughing sometimes.

“I wonder what precisely they’re talking about,” wondered Nikolai aloud, his blood-stained thumb trailing lines across the window. After deciding he got enough of looking outside, he swiftly turned around and was met with the sight of a white flower. “Oh? How interesting, you decided to keep this single flower?” he asked with great interest, eye scanning Fyodor for answers. Nodding, the latter closed in on the plant, back turning to the other. “Yes, I did,” he replied as he gracefully touched its petals.

Then, Fyodor took out the flower, turning around to face Nikolai. With that, he returned the gesture he had received a few moments prior. Intent on studying the other’s expression, Fyodor said, “Now we match, don’t you think?” Next to the flower behind his ear, Nikolai’s eye widened ever so slightly, yet it was gone before any other regular person could’ve noticed. Instead, he started laughing. “If you say so, dear Fedya,” he repeated the sentence used earlier, the same eye spiking with interest.

Fyodor was about to ask some more things, perchance about personal matters, but the knock on the door disrupted the conversation. “Your Highnesses are requested to come outside to bid farewell to the family,” a female voice from outside called. Groaning, Nikolai broke eye contact with Fyodor. “What a shame. I quite enjoyed your company, my dear prince,” he announced proudly while bowing, his gesture akin to the one during the ball. “What a shame indeed,” Fyodor repeated, removing the flower from his head.

That seemed to remind the other prince of the flower behind his ear, hands instantly reaching for it. After removing it carefully, he extended his arm and held it out for Fyodor to take. “Here, keep this one. It’s yours after all,” Nikolai said, watching his fiancé mimic the action. “Then you shall keep the purple one, considering you were the one to pluck it,” Fyodor responded before waiting for the other to take the flower. Chuckling, Nikolai retrieved the purple flower while Fyodor got his white one, a fair exchange.

“Then let’s go, shall we?” Fyodor asked upon putting his flower back into the glass. Together they soon left the room, leaving the doors for the servants to close. Passing through the wet garden and sidewalk, they arrived at the palace entrance where the carriage stood. Once again, the rain had stopped, preventing the princes from getting wet anew. “What took you so long?” Nikolai’s mother exclaimed, looking at her son in disdain. Fyodor’s eyes twitched at the gesture, yet he remained silent for now as he was merely observing their dynamics.

“It has been a delight to have you here, and I am glad we could talk about the arrangements,” the queen said, smiling as she watched the royal family slowly enter the carriage. “I agree! It also has been a delight from our side!” the other queen shouted from the inside, voice loud and proud. The last one to enter the vehicle was Nikolai, his braid swinging through the air. “Farewell, Fedya. Until we meet again,” he whispered so lowly only his fiancé could hear it. With that, he followed the steps of his father, vanishing behind the doors.

In one instance, the carriage left, leaving behind only dust.

<><><><><><><>

Tiny water drops were falling down the sky, painting it gray as Nikolai gazed out of the carriage. Some time had passed since the departure of the two families, letting the disinterest settle in his heart anew. Fyodor was an intriguing man, as entertaining as Nikolai thought himself to be. How unfortunate that the only thing binding them was a marriage enforced by their parents. The prince didn’t like dancing to the tunes of his ones, as if pulled by strings. He merely wanted to obtain his freedom, spreading his wings like a bird.

“Nikolai Gogol, are you listening to me?” his mother voiced loud, tone disdainful. She tended to get strict when Nikolai resisted the strings pulling him. “No, I wasn’t,” he admitted freely, eye not trailing astray from the rain. “Why do you never appear to behave!” the woman cried, hands crawling into fists. For that, Nikolai turned around, smiling ambiguously as he said, “There’s no audience to perform for. Why bother?” This seemed to have had its effect as the prince gladly returned to his thoughts, everyone quiet.

Despite moments like these where he resisted, in the bitter end, he still had to obey the orders from his parents. Forcing him into marrying merely further shrank the cage and further strengthened the strings. Regarding that, he wondered if his fiancé had such strict parents as him, only putting up a facade for his parents. Either way, he was intent on figuring out the meaning of the other’s words and actions. ‘For the second question, you just have to trust me,’ beamed through Nikolai’s head, getting him to think.

There was something so dangerous about the act of trusting someone. One wrong step and you could be misused, stumbling into the dark on your own. And yet, the prince had no other choice than to blindly do so, following his fiancé’s dance steps constructed for him. Nikolai would’ve refused if Fyodor hadn’t been so tempting that day. However, there was something hidden and special about that man compared to every royal Nikolai had met before, calculating his every move even before his parents.

“We have arrived,” the coachman called out to them, hopping off his position to open the doors for the royal family. With his thoughts disrupted, Nikolai exited the vehicle first, accepting the hand held out to him. As he watched the in-water-soaked man lead everyone out of the carriage, the prince remained in the rain, not bothered about getting wet. “Your Highness, please get inside,” a female servant shouted, approaching with an umbrella. “It is no good to stand in the rain.”

Shrugging, Nikolai accepted the umbrella and held it over their heads. “Don’t you like rain?” he asked, remembering when he and Fyodor didn’t move a bit even as they were getting soaked with water. ‘I wonder if he likes rain, too,’ Nikolai thought, watching the raindrops hit the ground. “Oh, no. I prefer to stay inside and not risk getting sick,” the girl responded, brushing her slightly wet hair behind her ear. The two started walking toward the palace, the servant letting out a sigh of relief when they had a roof over their heads.

Returning the umbrella, the prince turned on his heel and went to his room, not bothering to say goodbye to the girl. As soon as he arrived, he fetched a glass of water on his own and closed the door behind him. Then, he pulled out the purple rose he had been hiding neatly and placed it inside the cup. “Fyodor Dostoevsky, how I look forward to our next encounter,” he whispered, putting the glass on his nightstand similar to his fiancé. Admiring the flower from close, it was dangerously pretty.

Smiling, he traced the stem, thorns, and petals with the same finger that had bled prior. Before becoming too obsessed with it, Nikolai arose from his position, fixating his attention on something else. It was then that he wondered: when would they meet again? Upon not listening to the conversation of their parents, Nikolai hadn’t gotten the slightest glimpse of their plans and thus didn’t know what would follow. Sighing, he determined he needed to talk to his parents.

With that, Nikolai left his chamber and walked to his father’s study. When it came to his parents, the prince liked neither, but his father was better at masking his dislike than his mom was. Therefore, he preferred to ask the king instead of the queen. After Nikolai arrived, he knocked on the door and called, “I have a quiz for you—who am I?” His tone was cheerful, presumably for dramatic effect. However, the receiving party didn’t seem to like it as much, only grunting when he opened the door. “Come in, son. Tell me what brought you here.”

Performing as he was told, the prince sat on a chair close to the king’s desk. “How long will it be until we meet the Dostoevsky family again?” Nikolai asked, watching his father close the doors. Huffing, the latter turned to his son. “Are you so eager to see your fiancé?” he countered, the edges of his lip curling upward in amusement. Pouting slightly, Nikolai crossed his arms. “I asked the question first, which means you have to respond,” the prince merely stated, seemingly unsatisfied.

The king’s face grew stern as if he suddenly realized whom he was talking to. “I pose questions whenever I desire to,” he replied coldly, “but no use to talk about it now. Regarding your question, it will be two days from now on. Upon further investigation, we need to make some adjustments. However, it would be best to let it process soon.” Despite getting a good response, Nikolai still didn’t feel satisfied. “What will a meeting bring?” he merely questioned, the pout leaving his face.

“Aren’t you a curious one?” the king said with slight disdain. Huffing, Nikolai raised his eyebrow. “The arrangement involves mainly Fyodor and me. Isn’t it obvious I’d be interested?” he challenged, leaning forward in his chair to appear more intimidating. Sensing his flaw, the king sighed, letting his son obtain the victory. “I suppose you are correct. We are merely looking for clothing suited for the wedding. A tailor will step by, preparing both of you,” he stated, sitting on the chair by his desk.

Connecting the dots, Nikolai smiled at his father as he said, “That means they will come to us this time, correct?” After being met with a nod, the prince appeared to be satisfied. In two days, he could meet his fiancé again; the thought alone excited him. Despite the marriage being forced upon them, Fyodor seemed to possess the key to the shackles and cage, ready to free Nikolai whenever the former desired. Foolish as it was, it gave Nikolai a ray of hope beneath it all.

“Thank you for your response,” he announced as he arose, ignorant to the look he received for delivering no polite speech. Without exchanging any more words, the prince left the study, returning to his chamber. Grinning, he stepped into his room, not acknowledging the guards and servant he threw off with his presence. After shutting the door, he fell on the bed, his back hitting the soft mattress. “I wonder what Fedya is doing at this moment,” he hummed, stretching out his hand as he gazed upon the purple flower.

The rose seemed to stare back at him, its thorns shining in the chandelier light. “So dangerous yet so pretty,” Nikolai whispered in slight awe as he observed it swimming through the water. Deciding it was late enough to go to bed, he rose anew, changing into night clothing. There was still dinner to attend, yet the prince had no reason to bother. Being alone is what he desired the most, and no one could object if he were to go to sleep.

Switching off the lights, Nikolai crawled beneath the covers. “I almost forgot,” he murmured as he removed the card sitting on his right eye, setting it on the nightstand next to the flower. With that, he gazed at the ceiling, fascinated by the moonlight shining through the window. It had been an exciting day, Nikolai admitted. Both encounters with Fyodor had been more than entertaining, and Nikolai couldn’t wait to figure out more about the other. After all, he was determined he ‘hadn’t been of use’ for the other yet. There was still so much to uncover in the future.

“May you sleep well, Fedya.”

<><><><><><><>

“Please get up, Your Highness. The departure is to be in not many minutes.”
Sighing, Fyodor rubbed the sleep from his eyes, unaware of the time. Considering the sun had just risen, he presumed it could be no later than eight. “I apologize; give me a few minutes to change,” he mumbled as he got up, turning his back to the servant in his room. “Understood,” she said, retreating from the chamber. Upon being left alone, he put on a suitable outfit to wear. Carefully, he tried to match it with some jewelry, as his mother had been slightly upset when he wore none the last encounter.

With one long earring dangling from his ear, Fyodor exited the room and stepped toward the palace entrance. Presumably, he had no time for breakfast as he appeared to be late. However, it made no difference to the prince, despite the number of times his mother scolded him whenever he didn’t eat the most important meal of the day. As soon as he passed the gate leading to the garden, he felt a rush of nostalgia as he remembered the moment with his fiancé. Soaked, they had stood there, not moving an inch.

When Fyodor arrived at the entrance, he was met with the awaiting glances of his parents. “My dear, let us go, shall we?” the queen said, gesturing to the carriage behind the couple. Nodding, the prince moved toward it, accepting the hand of the coachman as he entered the vehicle. While seating himself, he gazed at his parents doing the same. “Is everyone ready?” the coachman called from the front after closing the doors. “You may depart,” the king responded with his posture straight, despite not anyone significant having to watch.

Without further ado, the carriage got moving, the horses leading them across the streets. Disinterested in his parents’ talking, Fyodor focused on the outside, his eyes wandering around. He had been told about the plans for the day. They would drive to the Gogol family to then pick out wedding outfits. As it stood, there was no need to meet up in Fyodor’s eyes, considering they could’ve obtained tailors for each family.

“It is important to discuss every single small detail,” his mother had said, primarily ending the conversation. Presumably, Nikolai’s and his parents seemingly wanted to spend more time together due to shared views. Who was Fyodor to oppose them? It merely meant he could spend time with the other prince, intent on figuring him out. Perchance, he might’ve held a more meaningful conversation this time. Smiling delightfully, he drifted off in thoughts about his plan.

After some time of useless talking and Fyodor close to sleep, the carriage stopped. Before long, the doors were opened by the coachman, guiding the family outside. “Welcome to our dear kingdom,” a female voice declared, belonging to none other than Nikolai’s mother. Upon exiting the carriage as the last one, Fyodor glanced at the people standing opposite him, noticing they were one person short. “Our tailor insisted on checking the measurements of our son beforehand,” the man explained before the prince could question it.

Humming in acknowledgment, Fyodor positioned himself next to his father. “It is a pleasure to see your fields and villages. They all seem so green and lively,” he said with a polite smile and bow, aware of the effect of the compliments. Chuckling, the queen of mentioned kingdom returned the smile. “I am glad you see it that way,” she commented, her eyes beaming with approval. That seemed to have made Fyodor’s mother proud, and her features softened when looking at her son.

“Shall we go inside?” the king of the Gogol family asked, gesturing for the family to follow him. To that, he received several nods, departing from the entrance. As they walked, Fyodor admired the scenery of the palace. Unlike theirs, where the garden and the opening were connected, the yard appeared on the other side for this one. The inner halls were filled with various plants, each in gold and silver pots. As expected of the kingdom focusing on the greenery of the lands, Fyodor mused.

After passing through several halls, the elders talking chattily, they arrived at the doorstep of one particular room. In it were a vast number of clothes sorted by color, the middle occupied by two people. One of them seemed to be the tailor, his blond hair around the same length as Fyodor’s. With a tape measure in his hands, the tailor fumbled with the other’s clothing. The latter appeared to be uncomfortable, eyeing the former with disdain. However, as soon as the tailor looked up, the glint in his eye disappeared.

“Have you not obtained the measurements yet?” the younger of the two queens asked, gazing upon the two as she stepped into the room. That caught the attention of the tailor and the prince, the latter relieved when spotting his fiancé. Panicked, the tailor bowed, posture a bit too stiff. “Your Majesty!” he exclaimed before noticing the other family. As he copied the gesture for them, he replied to the queen, “I possess everything needed; I merely intended to make sure.” Sweat drops were forming on his forehead, Fyodor observed.

Then, the tailor appropriately acknowledged the other prince’s presence, laughing nervously as he clapped his hands. “And Your Highness must be Fyodor Dostoevsky, the fiancé,” he said as he got up, eyes scanning the other. “That I am,” Fyodor merely responded, his gaze flickering to Nikolai, who stood beside the tailor with a strained smile. “Then, should you not get to work?” Nikolai’s father asked, intensely throwing a glance at the tailor. The latter eagerly nodded, more sweat drops falling from his face.

“O-of course, Your Majesty! Everything shall be prepared,” he replied hurriedly, dragging Fyodor by his sleeve. Shaking his head, the prince glanced at the elders, their expression calm. “Good,” the younger queen answered as she turned around with the others, “we expect you to be finished as soon as we get back.” With that, both parents closed the doors, leaving behind only three people in the room. Immediately, the blond let out a sigh of relief.

“Nervous?” Fyodor asked with a smile, startling the tailor. “No! No, I—whatever, Your Highness, please let us get to work,” he replied in the same hurried tone, stumbling over his own words. That brought a giggle out of Nikolai as he watched his fiancé undergo the identical measurements as him. Stretching out his arms, Fyodor looked at the shorter man fumble with the tape measure, making sure not to miss by a mere inch. A single word of uncertainty could’ve thrown off the tailor entirely.

“How have you been, Fedya?” Nikolai questioned casually, body leaning against the doorframe. “As good as I could be,” the man in question responded with a sigh, careful not to move. Despite the words not being directed at him, the tailor got irritated at the disruption of his focus. “Your Highnesses, please remain quiet until I finish,” he said with a tone that was slightly too spiteful, trying hard to focus anew. Nikolai’s eye twitched as he saw an opening for some entertainment.

“Don’t you think it is a bit rude to address the princes like that? What if Her Majesty finds out?” he whispered with malicious intent, gloved hand on the tailor’s back. That seemed to have done the trick as the latter started shaking, completely thrown off. He disregarded the tape measure and dropped to the ground, head touching the floor. “My deepest apologies! I beg of you, forgive me! And do not tell anyone,” the man pleaded as if his life depended on it.

Amused, Fyodor lowered his arms and shook his head, saying, “Kolya, do not tease him too much. Otherwise, we will never get finished.” In response, Nikolai pouted, eye not leaving the other. “You are so boring, Fedya.” Both knew it was a lie, yet neither commented on it. Soon, the tailor got up again, palms even sweatier than before. “I-I will continue working if that is no issue,” he mumbled as he carefully picked his words. Fyodor merely nodded, lifting his arms anew.

With that, the tailor returned to his duty, a tape measurer in his hands. In the background, Nikolai struck several poses, trying his best to entertain the watching Fyodor. Lips slightly tucked upward, the latter huffed at the jokey elements of the other. His actions were more akin to those of an impatient child than a prince. That got Fyodor thinking again, thoughts wandering astray. The previous interactions between the other two had shown him more of a compelling side to Nikolai. It was as if he searched for enjoyment.

“I’m done with the measurements,” the tailor said, interrupting Fyodor’s musing. Wiping his forehead, the former retreated to write a few things on the notebook lying on a table not far away. In the meantime, Fyodor lowered his arms anew and was accompanied by Nikolai at his side. “My arms hurt,” he merely stated, swinging his arms back and forth. “Should I hold them for you then?” Nikolai teased, his smile wide. Shaking his head, Fyodor gazed at the other. “That would be quite bothersome, don’t you think?” he countered, hands folding behind his back.

Yet, before Nikolai could form a response, Fyodor made his way to the tailor, eyes scanning the number of outfits. “Do you have any idea about the clothing?” he asked the blond offhandedly, hands tracing the fabrics. Caught off-guard, the tailor fumbled with his hands, thinking. “I do have a few ideas in mind. However, I believe it is best to discuss it with His and Her Majesties,” he replied quickly, looking nowhere near the prince. Noticing the other’s behavior, Fyodor noted, “I understand, but I recall them saying everything should be done when they return.”

He paused for a second, watching the blond’s reaction. “Don’t you think that included picking at least a few outfits?” Shivering, the tailor nodded, saying with panic, “Yes, yes, Your Highness! That must be it; my deepest apologies!” With that, he hurried to study the clothing, searching for something suitable. Smiling, Fyodor approached the other with caution. “No need to be afraid of me, as I will not bite. I am merely curious why you appear so nervous,” he spoke calmly, his expression morphing into sympathy.

Feeling a sense of comfort, the tailor let out a sigh. “Her Majesty told me to make everything perfect. If I won’t, my career will be over, and I will lose my only source of money,” he sniffed, tears starting to come out of his eyes. ‘So weak,’ Fyodor thought, eyes glinting with satisfaction. “Do not worry; we will vouch for you,” the prince responded, offering a gesture of comfort. At that, the tailor beamed. “Will you?” Nodding, Fyodor added, “Even if you mess up, you won’t pay for it. Although that does not mean neglecting your job.”

Eagerly, the tailor smiled in response, turning around to fetch some clothing. When Fyodor glanced at Nikolai, he saw the other wearing a shocked expression before melting into one of certainty. Returning to his fiancé, Fyodor gently placed his hand on Nikolai’s shoulder. “Now I can see your parents are the same as mine,” he whispered into the latter’s ear, sensing the shiver going down the his fiancé’s spine. “We have a few things to talk about later,” Fyodor added before letting go of the other and attempting to leave.

However, there was a hand grabbing his wrist, gloved fabric wrapping around pale skin. “You’re not going to help him, are you?” Nikolai said, a hint of amusement tugging at his lips. Chuckling at being found out, Fyodor smirked. “No, I merely made him think I would. This assurance gives him confidence and saves us time,” he freely admitted, eyes fixed on the gloved hand on his skin. Despite the fabric separating the two, Fyodor still felt warmth radiating from that spot.

Upon receiving the desired response, Nikolai let go of the other’s hand, the warmth retreating. “I see,” he murmured, acknowledging an even further intention behind the actions. Just in time, the tailor came back, showing the pair a variety of outfits. “These are the ones that fit your sizes and personalities,” he said, Fyodor wondering what the man based their personalities on. Each piece of clothing was of fabulous fabric, varying between colors of white, black, purple, and blue.

“We don’t even have a say in this,” Nikolai commented as he crossed his arms, bothered. “That is correct; we would have to wait for our parents to arrive,” Fyodor agreed, looking at the suits with great interest. “Fedyaaaa,” his fiancé whined, “don’t you think it’s unfair we can’t choose our wedding outfits?” The man in question merely shrugged his shoulders, turning to gaze upon the other. “We don’t have any other choice,” he said before pausing, “yet.”

That last word was what let Nikolai gasp, his eye shining. However, as soon as he tried to say something, footsteps reached the doors, which opened immediately afterward. “I assume you have finished,” his mother voiced, stepping into the room. She was followed by her husband and the other pair of parents. Nodding feverishly, the tailor looked at her, eyes flickering to Fyodor for reassurance. “Yes, Your Majesty. I have even prepared a few pieces of clothing for your liking!” With that, he pointed at the stand behind him, which was filled with outfits.

Skeptic, the younger queen inspected the suits but deemed them worthy. “Yes, precisely what I was talking about,” she replied, her gaze approving. The tailor seemed as if he had been given the biggest compliment ever, a smile appearing on his face. “Now then, my son, would you care to return the honor of showing your fiancé around?” Nikolai’s father asked, his tone leaving no room for arguments. Nevertheless, Nikolai had wanted to protest but was silenced by Fyodor’s hand on his shoulder. “It’s not worth it,” was whispered into his ear.

Together, they then departed from the room, bowing before doing so. “Even more ironic, we cannot decide our wedding at all,” Nikolai hissed, hatred visible in his tone. Silence settled in at first, yet there was an inhale of air next to him. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Fyodor spoke, his smile full of certainty and sinisterness. Eye widening, Nikolai gazed at his fiancé in awe. “How are you so sure?” he dared to ask, curiosity piqued. Instead of an answer, Fyodor lay a finger on his lips, signalizing the servants.

Understanding his intentions, Nikolai smiled, questioning, “Does that mean you don’t want a house tour?” As he received no answer from the other, he led his fiancé to his chamber, steps echoing in the hallway. “You may all be dismissed,” Nikolai announced to the present guards and servants. “We want to have some alone time,” he whispered with a wink, suggesting something entirely different from the truth. Fyodor raised an eyebrow but made no further comment, presuming it was to convince the other people.

Obeying his orders, the guards and servants in the hall retreated, hushing among themselves. Satisfied with himself, Nikolai opened the doors, bowing like a performer as he let his fiancé in first. “Welcome to my dear little home,” he spoke while watching Fyodor wander through his room. The latter observed everything with a keen eye, taking in the beauty of his surroundings. “You like jesters, don’t you?” Fyodor questioned as he passed by the paintings of jesters, seeing them spread out throughout the vast room.

Humming, Nikolai closed the doors and joined his fiancé, gloved hands tracing the lines of the paintings. “Yes, I aspired to be one when I was younger, but then the harsh reality of being a prince hit me,” he confessed, eye not leaving the canvas. Studying the other’s expression, Fyodor smiled slightly, stepping back. “The harsh reality of your parents’ expectations, you mean?” the prince said as he turned around to sit on the bed, gazing upon the purple rose.

Nikolai stood still for a few seconds, realizing the man that was his future husband did understand him. The statement at the ball was based on one observation, while everything Fyodor had said up to this point further brought proof. “What did you mean by implying we can decide our wedding?” Nikolai asked upon recollecting his emotions, placing himself next to Fyodor. The latter’s smile widened as if he had been anticipating this question.

“It’s quite simple,” he started, taking the rose into his hands. “We may not be able to decide what the decorations will look like or what we will wear, but in the end, we are the main attraction. What we do decides the end of the wedding, don’t you think? ” There was an ominous spark in Fyodor’s eyes as he spoke, fingers gracing the thorns. “They’re the kings and queens on the chessboard, but we are the players.” Then, he forcefully ripped his finger from the thorns, creating a deep cut under his skin.

“My parents couldn’t prevent this now, could they?” ended Fyodor his speech, holding his bleeding finger up as he established eye contact with his fiancé. With breath knocked out of his lungs, Nikolai had watched this phenomenon before his eyes, feeling something click inside him. Before long, he threw his head back and began hysterically laughing. “Fedya, you’re such a genius,” he said after sitting up again, expression beaming. “Of course, that’s it!”

Without hesitating, he removed his gloves before reaching for the flower and cutting one finger with it. “Now we’re matching,” Nikolai whispered, reaching for Fyodor’s hand to bring them together, palm to palm, finger to finger. The blood flew down their hands, becoming one on the way. “You’ve dirtied my hands, my dear friend. Don’t you feel a little bit guilty?” Chuckling, Fyodor gazed at their hands filled with blood as he shook his head. “Only if you were to regret it, Kolya.”

Smile unwavering, Nikolai broke their physical contact, instead lying his bloody finger on the other’s face. “I don’t think I will if it sets me free.” Gracefully, he traced his fiancé’s features, leaving behind small blood trails. Beats of silence went by where Nikolai studied Fyodor’s face while the latter stared intensely at the other, unmoving. However, a knock from outside broke the tension. “Your Highnesses, please come to His and Her Majesties,” the tailor’s voice cried out, tone uncertain.

Sighing, Nikolai removed his finger and put on his gloves anew while getting up. His fiancé copied the movement, merely trying to wipe off the blood on his face as he did so. “Do you have a tissue?” Fyodor asked casually, acting as if the previous encounter did not occur. Thinking for a little, Nikolai reached for a tissue box he knew he possessed. “Yes, here you go,” he answered, watching the other turn around to remove the stains on his face. After looking hurridly in the mirror, Fyodor seemed satisfied and walked toward the door.

“Too bad, you look good with blood on your face,” Nikolai whispered close to inaudible in the other’s ear as they stood mere inches away from the doors. Fyodor rolled his eyes fondly, opening the doors swiftly. With that, the two exited the chamber, closely followed by the tailor. “How strange, there are no guards here,” the latter wondered, entirely unaware of the words exchanged prior. Smiling innocently, Fyodor folded his hands behind his back, hiding the bloody finger. “How strange indeed.”

Before long, they had reached the dressing room anew, the blond man hurrying inside. “It took you quite some time,” Nikolai’s mother observed, her attitude strict. Without turning back, she led the two properly inside. “We have picked out suitable outfits for you to wear, although you will not look at them until the wedding day,” the young queen explained, pointing to the two covered pieces of clothing. Admittedly, Fyodor possessed no interest in the outfits, presuming it’d end up as red anyway.

He seemed to have changed his fiancé’s interest before, considering he made no move to protest. “They will suit you perfectly, size and color-wise,” the other queen exclaimed cheerfully, her eyes settling on her son and future son-in-law approvingly. Nodding, the kings each joined their wives, appearing proud. “So far, we should only have to look for decorations, find a place, and plan the time for the wedding,” Fyodor’s dad announced, gaze determined. “We will arrange the next gathering in our kingdom. There we shall search for appropriate decoration.”

The other king agreed and laughed proudly, “And the wedding shall take place here as we have the prettiest land spread over several kingdoms.” The elders came to an agreement, laughing heartily as they moved out of the room. Following after them were their sons, far more dangerous than they predicted. “Isn’t it entertaining to watch them?” asked Fyodor, gaze fixed on his parents’ back, voice low for only Nikolai to hear. “Yes, it is, Fedya,” the latter exclaimed, careful not to raise his voice too much.

Silence fell between them, the talking of their parents the only reason it wasn’t entirely quiet. During that, Fyodor mused in thought. Even he was fascinated by Nikolai, as he only needed a push to give in. His actions of cutting himself and spreading it across the other’s face hadn’t been within Fyodor’s expectations, either. It left him feeling some things when the other got so close, brushing his hand against the pale skin of Fyodor. Satisfied, he knew he had made the right decision in picking his fiancé.

Upon entering the outside anew, Fyodor’s thoughts came to a halt, his gaze traveling to the carriage. “We were pleased to have been invited by you,” he caught his mother saying, bowing slightly. “The pleasure’s all ours!” the other, younger queen spoke, returning the gesture. Then, she turned around to her future son-in-law. “My son couldn’t have made a better decision picking this fine young man! Seemingly perfect,” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together excitedly.

Standing next to him, Nikolai smiled as he muttered under his breath, “For once, we agree.” Fyodor appeared to be the only one to hear, letting him feel honored. “He is, is he not?” his mother repeated with delight, gazing at her son with something akin to proudness. “However, we shall depart now as enough time has passed,” she said, stepping toward the vehicle. Both pairs of parents seemed busy talking as one side entered, oblivious to their sons standing close to one another.

“I enjoyed my time here with you and would rather not say goodbye again,” Nikolai stated dramatically, going down on one knee. Instead of the dramatic bow he performed the previous times, he took the other’s hand and lightly pressed a kiss on it. Fyodor’s eyes widened ever so slightly before smiling fondly. “We will see each other soon enough, Kolya,” he replied, moving not an inch when his fiancé got up. Then, he turned around and joined his family in the carriage. With one last glance at Nikolai and the palace, the vehicle got moving.

If Fyodor stared at his hand a little longer, no one questioned it.

<><><><><><><>

“It’s so boring!”

Swinging his legs beneath the dining table, Nikolai pouted as he picked up a piece of meat to put into his mouth. His mind was nowhere where it should’ve been, too caught up in thoughts about wanting to meet Fyodor again. He wasn’t a patient man, and days had passed since their last encounter. Therefore, he desired to hold on to the only entertainment in his life; his fiancé. The recent interactions had spiked something in him, akin to excitement.

“Nikolai!” the queen shouted, her eyes filling with disdain at her son. “You do not say such things as a prince!” That made Nikolai scoff, leaning his head on his hand. “What? Am I not allowed to have normal human emotions?” Ever since the conversation, he had gotten a little bolder, displeasing his parents greatly. However, he hadn’t broken free of those chains entirely yet. Until that one point in time, he assumed he had to wait. ‘Just a little more,’ he told himself.

“That is it! You shall go to your room and reflect,” his mother exclaimed, her gaze furious. For now, Nikolai still obeyed those orders, although there would come a time when he wouldn’t have to. Admittedly, he didn’t even know what he should reflect on, yet arose nonetheless. There was a request that had formed in his head, and he needed to let it get fulfilled. With one last glance at his mother, the prince left the dining hall, his braid swinging at the motion.

The king had been in his study throughout, giving Nikolai a chance to visit. As his father hadn’t heard the conversation, the likelihood of his request being fulfilled increased. Instead of walking to his chamber, he turned on his heel and headed for the king’s study. Knocking softly, he announced, “Dear father, I have a wish and would like to talk about it. Would you let me in?” Upon hearing those words, the doors swung open, revealing the well-dressed man. “Only for mere minutes,” he replied, turning around to enter the study anew. Following cheerfully, Nikolai let the doors close behind him and joined his father.

“What is it you wanted to talk about?” the latter questioned as he sat down on a chair, looking at his son curiously. Smiling, the prince seated himself all the same. “The next meeting regarding the wedding is still several days away. How about,” he paused for dramatic effect, pretending he was deeply thinking about something, “I visit my fiancé beforehand, like today?” In response, the king raised an eyebrow, eyes narrowing. “Why would you want to do that?”

Nikolai smiled even further at that, folding his hands. “Don’t you think it would be great for me to get to know my future husband better?” he countered as he arranged his seating position. “Besides,” he added, holding up one finger, “I will behave more accordingly if you let me go.” That seemed to have caught his father’s attention, yet his gaze still bore mistrust. “How could I possibly trust you to hold up to that promise?” the king questioned, head held high to not show weakness.

“You have no other choice,” Nikolai stated confidently, earning a glare from the other. He expected that reaction and continued, “What is there to lose? The only thing you can earn is my obedience, and if I do not behave accordingly, don’t you have further reasons to punish me?” Due to that flawless logic, his father started to think, a frown appearing on his face. Minutes passed, spent with the older man pondering deeply while the younger one merely whistled happily.

“All right, you may be permitted to leave for the Dostoevsky family,” the king ended up saying, sighing. Celebrating his victory, Nikolai stood up cheerfully, clapping his hands in excitement. “Thank you very much; I’ll prepare at once,” he said with a grin, making his way toward the exit. “Halt!” his father called out hurriedly. “Do bring a guard with you as you go.” Humming in acknowledgment, Nikolai left the room, heading back to his own. As quickly as he arrived, he ordered loudly, “Prepare a carriage at once and fetch me a guard.”

With that, he entered his chamber, searching for a fitting outfit. Upon finding a piece of clothing he deemed worthy, he put it on and paired it with jewelry. “Perfect!” Nikolai exclaimed, his earring dangling in the sunlight. Thus, the prince left his room anew. When he stepped outside, he was met with a carriage, its coachman, and a guard. “Your Highness, what a sudden request! Where should we go?” the coachman asked Nikolai as he led the other inside the vehicle. Once the prince was seated, he replied, “To the Dostoevsky family.”

With everything settled, the carriage took off, departing from the palace. Nikolai grinned to himself in satisfaction, thrilled due to the upcoming encounter. “Your Highness, I dare not to ask, yet why are we heading this way? His and Her Majesties are not with you,” the guard questioned, disrupting the other’s thoughts. The prince’s grin remained, but it appeared fake. “Can I not visit my fiance from time to time? We are getting married after all,” he responded, tone a sarcastic happy one.

“Yes, of course! My apologies for asking such a foolish question, Your Highness!” the other bent down his head on his knees. “Apology accepted,” Nikolai merely said, returning to looking out the window. Deep in thought, his gloved hand fumbled with his braid. ‘I wonder what Fedya’s reaction will be like,’ he mused, eye not once leaving the outside. The whole ride carried on like that, the prince in thought while the guard tried his best not to disturb the former.

At last, they reached their destination, stopping before the gate. “Who is paying us this visit?” a loud voice from the outside called, presumably a guard. His question was answered by the coachman, “The Gogol family, sir.” Regarding that, both guards gave no response, hesitating. “Why make it so difficult?” Nikolai raised his voice as he jumped out of the carriage. It wasn’t hard to determine why the two were not reacting instantly; they had no proof of the carriage being from the royal family.

However, upon seeing and hearing the prince they had spotted in the palace days before, the guards immediately bowed. “Our apologies, Your Highness. We were not familiar with your carriage and its coachman,” they said politely, opening the gates. At once, Nikolai returned to his seat inside the vehicle and leaned back. Without any further arguing, they got moving anew. They soon stopped in front of the palace itself. “You can do and go wherever you want; I don’t care,” the prince said to his guard as he exited the carriage.

Before hearing any comments about his words, Nikolai turned his back to the other and walked to the guards at the entrance. “May someone take me to Fyodor Dostoevsky?” he requested joyfully as he approached the strangers. “As you wish, Your Highness,” one of the guards responded while bowing, signalizing for the prince to come in. As soon as he did, he was joined by a servant who looked at him with pure curiosity. Then, they began heading toward Fyodor’s room.

Nikolai had to admit; he wouldn’t have found the way alone. The palace was huge, and one quick tour could never be enough to remember. Upon reaching their destination, the servant knocked. “Your Highness, there’s a visitor,” she said, voice loud and high. “Oh, who is it?” the voice from the other side called. Yet, before the question could be answered, the doors opened. There stood Fyodor, wearing the most casual outfit Nikolai had seen on him, but still fitting for a prince. The other’s eyes widened slightly when gazing upon Nikolai before melting into a smile.

“What did I do to deserve such a visit, Kolya?” he asked while stepping aside to let his fiancé in. With a flick of his wrist, he signalized for the servant to leave, as he did not want to be disturbed further. “I simply felt like it,” Nikolai answered, entering the room with light steps. Chuckling, Fyodor closed the doors behind him, following the other. “And your parents let you go?” he asked as he seated himself on his bed. Glancing upon the white flower in the glass, Nikolai smiled. “Let’s say,” he started, lying down on the bed, “I came to an agreement with my father.”

Humming in acknowledgment, Fyodor looked down at the prince lying on his bed. “What is that agreement, if I may ask?” he questioned curiously. Nikolai snorted as he gazed at the ceiling. “I promised I’d behave if he let me go,” he exclaimed joyfully, eye not leaving the chandelier. “I see,” Fyodor responded, smiling as he figured out the rest. Then, he lay down as well, placing himself a few inches away from the other. “But why bother coming here? Visiting me especially, that is.”

A sigh escaped his fiancé’s lips. “I already told you, Fedya,” he whined, a pout appearing on his face, “I felt like it. It’s just so boring in that palace! A trip to you couldn’t hurt.” Despite not having it said out loud, both acknowledged that the desire to see the other was why Nikolai had gone. Following said sentences was silence. Even if it was quiet, Nikolai preferred spending time with his fiancé than alone. However, that didn’t mean he couldn’t break the silence, especially with something he had been musing about for a while.

“How will I be of use to you?”

For once, Fyodor hadn’t anticipated such a question. It led back to when they first met, their agreement. To acquire freedom, Nikolai would marry Fyodor and fulfill a purpose. While the passage to liberty had been revealed, the use of Nikolai had not. “Why do you want to know?” he countered as calmly as before, a dangerous glint in his eyes. Oblivious, Nikolai turned until they were face-to-face. “You’re fulfilling your part of the agreement, so isn’t it justified for me to want to fulfill mine as well?”

“That is true,” Fyodor admitted, establishing eye contact with the other. “However,” his hand reached out to touch Nikolai’s braid, “your part is being fulfilled right now as we speak.” The latter’s eye widened, nonetheless not looking away. There was a deep urge within to ask how he was helping, yet he didn’t voice it out loud. Before long, he was reminded about their exchanges, filled with blood and words holding so much meaning. “So does this mean that is part of your plan as well?” Nikolai questioned, eyes clouded with excitement anew.

“Precisely,” Fyodor answered as his hand lingered on the other’s hair. “And to defeat this evil, you have to be even worse yourself.”

Instead of breaking into laughter like in previous times, Nikolai smiled brightly. “Absolutely wonderful!” he cried out, getting up in one go. With that, he held out his hand to his fiancé. “However, I have one request,” the prince said, cherishing the look of surprise on the other’s face. “Dance with me one more time on that day. Amidst life and death, leading to love and regret—dance.” Amused, Fyodor mirrored the smile, albeit weaker. “Are you sure about this?”

Nodding his head, Nikolai’s hand remained in the air, untouched. “Never been more sure in my life.” Upon seeing the expression of determination on the other’s face, Fyodor took the hand, letting himself be pulled up. They stood on the same ground, a gloved hand wrapped around pale skin. “I’m glad I decided to come here,” Nikolai said, his eye fixed on the linked hands. It filled him with delight to see such an event.

“Yes, but now that you’re here, why not stay for dinner?” Fyodor suggested as he moved forward, his hand slipping out of the hold of his fiancé. The latter pouted slightly at the loss of contact yet brightened up after processing the idea. “I’d love to! But my parents most likely don’t want me to be back late,” he murmured, trailing behind Fyodor. The two left the chamber and headed to the dining hall. “Still obedient?” Fyodor questioned with a teasing tone as he slightly smiled.

Sighing, Nikolai shook his head. “No, Fedya. My guard will snitch on me.” It was a terrible excuse, yet he didn’t want to admit the other was right. “Besides,” he threw an arm around his fiancé’s shoulders, whispering into the other’s ear as they walked, “I have been much less obedient lately.” When Nikolai released Fyodor anew, the latter merely shook his head fondly. “If you say so, Kolya,” he said calmly, smile small but unwavering.

Then, they arrived at the dining hall, the clock hitting six. “Call for my so—oh?” The king stood at the table, accompanied by his wife; upon seeing Nikolai, a confused look appeared on his face. “What is the occasion for you being here?” he asked as he sat down, eyeing the two with interest. Instead of responding, Fyodor called for a servant, commanding, “Bring another plate over for our guest.” Doing as she was told, the servant hurried inside the kitchen, coming out with a plate soon after.

“Here is the food, Your Highness,” she said as he placed the food in front of the sitting Nikolai before retreating to the side. Gracefully, Fyodor seated himself next to his fiancé, taking the fork and knife into his hands. With that, both started eating, ignoring the glances of the king and queen. After several minutes were spent eating in silence, the king asked anew, “Why have you come here, Nikolai Gogol?” The man in question stopped the fork from entering his mouth, instead setting it down.

“Why would I need a reason? I have been asked multiple times throughout today, and I merely wanted to visit my dear fiancé,” he responded as he picked up his fork again, disinterested. The king and queen appeared satisfied, not furthering the conversation. Relieved he didn’t have to talk more, Nikolai began properly eating, beaming as he did so. “The food is delicious!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands in approval. “Yes, our chief has quite the talent,” the queen commented, proud.

Humming, Nikolai took another few bites until he finished. In comparison, Fyodor had only eaten half of the food. His fork was hovering over the plate when his fiancé leaned his head on a hand, watching with interest. “Are you not enjoying your food, Fedya?” he asked, eye studying the other. It was a teasing remark as Nikolai had nothing better to do after finishing his meal. “I am merely a slow eater,” Fyodor replied with ease, unbothered by the attention on him.

Even after there was nothing left to say, Nikolai’s gaze remained on the other, watching his every move. From his hair to his eyes, to his lips when they parted for the entry of food, to his Adam’s apple when he swallowed the food. Everything about Fyodor was interesting, drawing Nikolai in. Despite his words being the mightiest weapon, Fyodor was pretty even when silent. Said person was also very aware of the intense gaze on him but didn’t act against it, perchance even enjoying it.

“Do not mind me asking, but you do not possess such food?” the king questioned, purposefully disrupting the atmosphere. Nikolai merely turned his head a little, his focus still on the man next to him. “I do. However, eating the same food does make me lose its taste,” he answered, disinterested yet tried not to show it in his voice. The king and the queen both grimaced at the failed task of having a small talk with their future son-in-law.

After Fyodor finished, the silence broke as Nikolai jumped up. “As sad as I am to leave once more, I have to return to my home,” he announced, gaze a little sad upon looking at his fiancé. Noticing his parents, Fyodor rose similarly, saying, “I will escort him outside.” With that, the two left the overwhelmed rulers of the kingdom alone in the hall. “Did you not have a guard with you?” Fyodor asked as they were walking down the corridor, nearing the outside. “He’s most likely already at the carriage,” Nikolai waved it off, arms swinging by his side.

Strangely enough, whenever Fyodor was around, Nikolai felt no obligation to suppress his emotions and act according to what he had been told. It felt like his wings were spreading after so long, the key to liberty found. However, as far as the cage was still present and the key had no effect yet, freedom hadn’t been acquired. Therefore, he had to wait patiently for the day when he would break free, free of expectations and pressure.

“Your Highness! We shall go,” the guard requested upon seeing the person he had been waiting for. Outside, the sun had already set, and the dark was close to setting in. “Yes, I’ll arrive shortly,” Nikolai said, calm yet slightly annoyed on the inside. A few feet from the carriage, he turned to Fyodor, expression sad. “Oh, how I loathe having to say goodbye to you. However, that makes greeting you even sweeter,” he declared dramatically, bowing like a performer anew.

“Farewell, my dear friend,” the man said after getting up, urging to kiss the other’s hand again. Yet, the opportunity never came, so he merely turned on his heel instead. “See you soon, Kolya,” Fyodor returned the gesture, watching his fiancé enter the vehicle. Before long, Nikolai was gone, his mind drifting away. Being around Fyodor had been bliss; it made Nikolai feel joy. However, those feelings were turning so dependent on the other.

Nikolai didn’t like that feeling.

<><><><><><><>

“Fyodor Dostoevsky!”

The room had been quiet before, a sweet harmony existing. However, it was shattered by a loud voice appearing. Fyodor had been sitting in his chamber peacefully, merely writing down a few things on paper. He hadn’t noticed the time passing, leading to his mom coming to his room. Her voice hadn’t been loud or aggressive, carrying a more polite tone. However, a slight frown was apparent on her graceful features as she entered. Upset, mayhaps. Why she was, Fyodor never found out.

“What is it, mother?” he responded calmly as he got up, paying attention to hide said paper from sight. The queen approached her son further, steps light. “We shall look for places concerning the decoration. You and a guard will visit a few stores we have picked out,” she announced when she was face-to-face with the other. Upon receiving this information, Fyodor placed a delightful smile on his face. “You are not planning to decide by yourselves?”

In response, his mother merely shook her head. “I fear not. We are too occupied with our work, and I trust in your judgment,” she replied lightly before turning around to retreat, the last part of the sentence more significant than it seemed. Fyodor hummed in acknowledgment, deciding to follow his mother. “Has the guard been informed yet?” he questioned as they stepped out the door, steps echoing in the silent hallway. Nodding, the queen led the other along shut doors and long halls.

“He has been and is currently waiting outside. Furthermore, a carriage has been prepared.” With a list in her hands pulled out from prior, she stepped out of the palace, entering the outside with her son. As soon as Fyodor passed by the flowers, he was reminded anew of his fiancé. The day inched closer with every passing day, and the prince wondered what pages his future would be written in. He had a plan in his mind, Nikolai undoubtedly a part of it.

Upon arriving, Fyodor spotted a guard and a carriage with its coachman. Both people bowed as soon as they recognized the queen and the prince. “Here is the list of places you are expected to visit. By evening, you shall have returned with a decision in mind,” the former told the latter as she handed him the list. Throwing a glance at it, Fyodor nodded, expression unreadable. “It is an honor and a pleasure to perform this task. I will return with great results,” he responded with a practiced polite tone as he walked toward the vehicle.

As presumed, the queen’s face softened as a smile replaced the earlier frown. Following, the prince entered the carriage, holding the list firmly in his hand. After announcing their first destination loud and clearly, the horses got going. During that ride, Fyodor stared at the outside, gaze bothered. ‘Such a pathetic thing to do,’ he thought as they passed several houses. ‘Deciding everything by themselves until it comes to the harder and more bothersome stuff.’ Sighing, he folded his hands in his lap, drowning in thoughts.

The chess pieces had begun moving, performing under the player’s control. However, one of the chess pieces wasn’t under control, merely shifting on its own through guidance. Fyodor wondered when that was to be used against him. Surprisingly, he wasn’t opposed to it in the way he should’ve been. After all, he was anticipating the day Nikolai would flourish and bloom. If that day were the same day he would go against Fyodor, he would be free to try so. Yet, performing such a feat was challenging.

Fyodor’s pleasant thinking was disrupted as the vehicle stopped. Before long, the doors opened, revealing the bowing coachman. Accepting his hand, the prince ascended downstairs, looking at the shop before him. Gasps were let out around him, shocked at the royal family showing themselves in public. Admittedly, Fyodor barely left the residence, even when he had a chance. He had nothing against the village people in particular; he merely didn’t like going outside.

Bells rang above his head as he entered, glancing at his surroundings. “Welcome, dear customer. How can I-“ the shop owner came to him, stopping upon acknowledging the prince. “Your Highness! How rude of me,” she exclaimed, bowing instantly. “What gives me the honor?” Fyodor walked through the shop, followed by the guard closely behind. “I am merely looking for wedding decoration,” he replied as his fingers grazed the materials of the objects.

“Wedding decoration? O-of course!” she hastily said, on her way to discuss the quality. However, Fyodor held up his hand before she could get very far. “There is no such need,” he declared confidentially, returning to the entrance. “I have made my decision.” With that, he opened the door, leaving. “Wait!” a voice called from further in, the woman hurrying forward. Fyodor stopped in his tracks, turning around curiously. Albeit slightly embarrassed, the shop owner asked, “What is that supposed to mean, Your Highness?”
Considering the prince had only been in the shop for mere minutes, declaring he had made his decision was unsettling. Chuckling, Fyodor looked at the woman a few feet away from him. “It is pretty simple. Glancing at your decorations and feeling the material of the objects makes it easy for me to determine the quality.” The ‘I have made my decision’ was also based on those facts stated. Respectfully, the woman bowed one more time. “I understand,” she lied, nonetheless confused.

Then, Fyodor entered the carriage fully, not once looking back. After the guard joined him, he announced the following location. Every encounter went the same; the people were surprised upon seeing the prince, the latter examining the quality and left afterward. Yet, there was a slight change for the last destination. The shop owner, a male in his twenties, was beyond surprised at the honor of encountering the prince. He copied the same manners of all the other ones.

But the shop itself was what surprised Fyodor. Every little thing was painted in purple and white colors, mixed beautifully. Despite the quality being similar to the other ones, those decorations had the prettiest color scheme. Viewing them, Fyodor felt something akin to delight. ‘It’d look so perfect,’ he told himself, admiring his surroundings. Even though the wedding was supposed to be only a part of his plan, he felt the form of execution was slightly significant to him.

Now he understood why Nikolai had been upset. Yet, those feelings didn’t get to him, only starting to grip him from afar. After all, it didn’t matter in the end. Those clothes would end up in the trash, and so would the decoration. There was no reason to be upset about the lack of control regarding the wedding, only delight upon sensing the overall control over the situation. With those thoughts swelling inside him, Fyodor told the shop owner he would return anew.

As he entered the carriage for the last time of the day, the prince wondered how his fiancé would act in the future. Would he bloom and remain healthy or wither almost immediately? No matter what Fyodor did, the other was constantly on his mind, taking up space needed for thinking. If he hadn’t known any better, he would’ve thought he had grown a soft spot for his fiancé. However, the peak had yet to be reached, and Fyodor predicted he would find it the most beautiful moment in his life.

Upon arriving at his home, the prince announced his pick, the actual reason not given.

<><><><><><><>

“Let us depart.”

The whole morning Nikolai had spent in the garden as he admired every little flower. Sometimes, he also looked up, staring at the birds flying freely. But his father had destroyed this utterly beautiful peace, entering the prince’s vision. “We are planning to visit a few locations for the wedding,” he declared upon standing above his sitting son. “Furthermore, get up from the ground. It is not suited for a prince,” the king voiced with disgust, watching his son rise with a sigh.

“Why do you care so much anyway? It is merely one marriage out of convenience,” Nikolai questioned, noticing with despise how formal his words sounded. Exhaling to remain calm, his father glanced at his son for a few seconds before turning away. “Everything shall be perfect, especially such important events. It will not be a public event; however, there is no imperfection as rulers of kingdoms.” Hearing that, Nikolai’s body grew cold, heart filling with the hatred he had built up throughout the years.

Then, he smiled, a bit too wide for it to be sane. “Yes, I agree. It shall be perfect,” the prince repeated as he strolled past the king. Oblivious to the look on Nikolai’s face, his father matched his steps. “I have come to search for you. Although you may have no opportunity to choose the place, it is still appropriate to bring you along,” he explained, eyes straight ahead. Before long, he added, “The Dostoevsky family shall join us throughout the day. After we have found the best location, we will return at once. Upon bringing them with us, we will drive back to the location.”

Nikolai’s interest was piqued as soon as he mentioned the Dostoevsky family. Seeing his dear fiancé again brought him immense joy, even if dangerous feelings were starting to linger. Not acknowledging those feelings, the prince carried on, trailing behind his father. Then, they reached their carriage, a coachman standing close by. Inside was already the queen, seated with her hands neatly folded on her lap. A scowl had been placed on her face by the time father and son entered the vehicle.

“You took your time,” she said as a matter of fact, although annoyance was hidden within her tone. Apologizing, the king held her hands, whispering sweet things to her. What they were saying, Nikolai didn’t know. He had long since tuned out their talking when the carriage started moving. Disinterested, his gloved hand traced the patterns of the window. The prince supposed almost every location would appear the same. Even if he didn’t, he had no right to object to his parents’ decisions.

Yet, Nikolai merely smiled at the fact that those tables would soon turn. A prickling sensation had begun burning in his fingertips, eagerly waiting for the day. Whether his parents chose this outfit or that location had no result on the end product. Just as Fyodor said, the two had control in the long run; such a releasing thought. That day, the same guy had put poison into Nikolai’s head, intoxicating his behavior. It felt like that to Nikolai, yet he was relieved by the push he had received, pushed to the edge before falling off and flying.

Every person in his life had been the same, reminding him of the burden of being a prince. ‘You need to do this.’ ‘You need to do that.’ ‘Stand more straight!’ ‘Behave more like a prince!’ However, despite a royal background, Fyodor was none of that, instead providing help. It felt more than like a breath of air, oh so much more. Ever since Nikolai first sighted the other, he had been entranced by his performances. Not only made it feel Nikolai entertained, it especially drove him to feel thrilled and excited.

“We have arrived,” the voice of the coachman brought the prince back to reality. Sighing, Nikolai let himself be tormented a few last times, exiting the vehicle to follow his parents. As expected, the location was gorgeous but not intriguing enough in his eyes. Stepping to the side, the prince observed the king and queen strolling around the place, scanning every area carefully. “We haven’t seen enough yet,” the woman declared, moving to the carriage anew. Nodding, her husband followed suit, and so did their son.

The process was the same every time; drive to the place, look at it, leave, and repeat. It bore Nikolai to death, bothered about the fact he even had to come with. However, his behavior changed as soon as they reached the last destination. Upon exiting the vehicle, the prince was greeted by various colorful flowers. Not one seemed out of place, complimenting each other perfectly. Nikolai’s eyes widened as he inhaled the sweet scent.

‘It’s perfect.’

Due to Fyodor ‘gifting’ Nikolai the purple rose, the latter had grown to love flowers. Admittedly, he had studied the flowers in his yard in his free time. Considering he had nothing to do, it was a glorious time spent. Nonetheless, gazing upon the flowers arranged in the beautiful sunlight left Nikolai speechless. “This place looks magnificent!” the queen exclaimed joyfully, eyes sparkling with delight. Nikolai couldn’t tell if he hated agreeing with her or was glad of their shared opinion on the location.

“Very much so,” the king said approvingly, walking across the place. For the first time since their departure, Nikolai joined them, albeit farther away. Interested, his gaze wandered around the spot. From the flower field to the banks reserved for the guests to the altar in stone. Everything was arranged flawlessly. Yet, they couldn’t afford to stay any longer as the other family was to arrive soon. Disappointed at having to leave the place yet excited to meet his fiancé, Nikolai set foot into the carriage anew.

Before long, horses started running, bringing the vehicle forward. Closing his eyes, the prince leaned against the side, dozing off the slightest bit. Luckily, he awoke before they reached the palace, saving him from the anger of his parents. Coming to a halt, the vehicle stopped in front of the entrance. With a glance outside, Nikolai determined that the other family hadn’t reached their destination yet. Therefore, the three stepped out of the carriage and waited for the guests to arrive.

Mere minutes passed, spent with the wind running through Nikolai’s hair. No matter how boring and long those few minutes felt, he had to endure it. Just like everything else he had tolerated, it’d be met with a reward. After figuring that out, a carriage appeared in his vision. Immediate joy was placed in his heart as he watched the vehicle come to a stop. With an observing eye, he watched the coachman hop off and lead the people outside. Upon spotting his fiancé, Nikolai smiled.

“Welcome! We have found a most desirable location, seemingly perfect,” the younger queen exclaimed as she approached the opposing family. Satisfied, the older queen nodded in approval, her gaze wandering to the vehicles next to another. “It would be more convenient for us to drive to the spot with one carriage, would it not?” she suggested as she stepped toward the one owned by the Gogol family. In response, both the king and queen of the kingdom followed.

“We have also thought of that matter,” the former announced calmly, signalizing the coachman to lead them inside. Before long, the families entered one after another, the carriage holding enough space for everyone. Nikolai was soon joined by his fiancé, the latter’s eyes ahead. Together they stepped into the vehicle, sitting down next to each other. “I’m assuming you had no say in picking the location?” Fyodor whispered in the other’s ear, hot breath against the skin.

Feeling a sense of prickling sensation on that spot, Nikolai leaned back to escape his fiancé’s wrath. “Not really,” he whispered just as lowly, careful not to disturb the chattering of their parents. “But,” a smile appeared on his graceful features, “the place is pretty nonetheless, perfect even.” Raising his eyebrow the slightest bit, Fyodor leaned back yet made no further comment. The ride continued with silence between the two, their parents the only reason for a conversation happening.

Despite blocking out the talking, Nikolai was very aware of his fiancé next to him. The other’s breathing pattern became apparent to him, every accidental touch burning on his skin. It felt phenomenal to be so close, yet the dangerous thoughts started creeping up anew. Those feelings were getting more intense, and Nikolai did not like them. They led to him becoming too attached to the other, preventing him from taking off the ground to fly high in the sky.

Before long, the families reached their destination. Upon gazing at the flower field again, Nikolai breathed in the scent as he got out. “Isn’t it beautiful, Fedya?” he asked when the two were left alone, the others already exploring different parts. “I agree; it is rather pretty,” Fyodor commented, eyes traveling over the place. He stepped toward the field, hands grazing the petals. “You like flowers, don’t you, Kolya?” the prince asked his fiancé, turning around to look at him.

Humming softly, Nikolai walked over. “I do. You have opened my eyes after all,” he said, aware of the double meaning of the sentence. Noticing it, too, Fyodor smiled. With that, the two strolled around the place, stepping on rocks and dirt. “I suppose it is perfect,” Fyodor admitted when they reached the altar made of stone. Banks were spread out before them, a pathway leading to the main point. Flowers were grazing the sidewalk, swinging through the air happily.

“Say, Fedya,” Nikolai began as he leaned against the altar, “why is it so important for them to hold a wedding for us if it’s private anyway?” He had heard the response from his father, yet he was interested in listening to the other’s answer. “For pride’s sake,” Fydor replied calmly, standing next to Nikolai to observe the whole scenery. “Even if no one else will see, they make everything perfect and satisfactory to satisfy their pleasures.”

Sighing, Nikolai looked straight ahead, staring into the setting sun. “Don’t you hate it? The need to make everything perfect for them?” he asked without turning his head, too drawn in by the scenery. Surprisingly, the man behind him nodded, eyes fixed on the people in the distance. “I do. However, that statement goes for any royal families of the kingdoms,” he commented, something akin to hatred visible in his voice. Now, Nikolai did look back, eye filled with astonishment. “Right?”

A peaceful silence followed soon after, spent with the two in thought. Nikolai observed the beauty in front of him; whether it was the scenery or Fyodor, he didn’t know. Nonetheless, harmony settled within him, and with that came the urge to talk. “My right eye is blind,” he confessed with no clue why he let such information slip. Removing the card from his eye, he stepped away from the altar, facing his fiancé.

An amused glint was present in the other’s eyes, urging him to continue. “When I was younger, my mother got angry with me even more. It led to her ‘accidentally’ grabbing a knife and stabbing my eye!” he exclaimed, never breaking eye contact as he stepped closer. “Oh, I will never forget the pain and blood flowing out.” Upon standing face-to-face with his fiancé, Nikolai grabbed the other’s hands, wrapping his fingers around them. “I so desperately wished for my mother to be in my position, screaming in agony.”

“Did your mother apologize, then?” Fyodor asked curiously, unbothered by the physical contact. Laughing bitterly, Nikolai’s face inched closer, eyes going wide. “She did, but not to me! To some unknown god, she said sorry repeatedly, yet never to her son! Can you believe it?” His laughter continued, acting as if he found it hilarious. After all, what else should he do apart from laughing at the ridiculousness? “Can you believe it, Fedya? Instead of regretting hurting her son, she regretted it because ’she is a queen.’”

Fyodor’s calculating gaze peered through Nikolai’s vulnerable soul, yet the latter had no objection. “Then you should return the favor, don’t you think?” Fyodor disrupted the other’s laughter, eyes cunning. Instead of breaking into insane laughter anew, Nikolai smiled. “I know,” he said more calmly than he felt, putting the card back on his eye. With that, his grip on the other loosened, retreating. Upon being released, the other nodded approvingly, more disdain in his eyes as he looked at their parents in the distance.

“People can be so cruel, can’t they?” he sighed as he folded his hands behind his back. Stepping forward, Fyodor walked along the field, closely followed by his fiancé. “However, it will all soon end, dear Kolya,” he voiced aloud, air running through his hair. Then, he reached into his pockets, bringing out a piece of paper. Turning around, the prince held it out to the other. “Bring this to the tailor. I trust you not to open it beforehand,” Fyodor explained as he studied the expression of his fiancé.

Admittedly, Nikolai was surprised and curious, yet he obeyed nonetheless. It wasn’t like an order from his parents that restrained his every action. Therefore, he placed the letter in his pockets with ease, grinning. “As you wish, my dear prince.” With that, he caught up with the other and matched his steps. Together, they passed by the flowers, the late sunlight illuminating the field. Within, Nikolai could vividly imagine what the place would look like during the wedding. His parents were not worthy of experiencing such glory and beauty.

“On that day,” Fyodor started to speak, capturing the other’s attention instantly, “you are free to do whatever your heart desires.” Free. Nikolai almost expected a ‘but’ to follow, chaining him to different actions. Yet, only silence followed after, and it made him feel so utterly relieved. “Thank you~” he hummed cheerfully, hiding his deepest emotions. The other commented no further, letting silence settle in anew. At that point, Nikolai realized even silence was well spent with his fiancé.

Lucky for them, their parents seemed to be talking nonstop. Thus, the two princes were left alone, letting them do whatever they wanted to. Before long, they settled down on a random spot in the field. Day turned into night as the sky grew dark and filled with stars. Letting himself lie down, Nikolai gazed at the little suns dancing on the horizon. Perchance, the flowers appeared even more picturesque in the cold moonlight than in the late sunlight.

Not only the plants but the man next to him as well. Fyodor had lain down all the same, light highlighting his features. His purple eyes shone immensely, and the sickly pale skin only complimented the moon’s shine further. The prince’s hair fell into his face, dark strands swinging through the air as the wind blew. Entranced, Nikolai couldn’t decide which beauty he should admire; the vast sky filled with stars or the intriguing man beside him with features soft and cold as snow.

Fyodor was attractive, Nikolai had always known. Not only was he a noble prince who wore the highest of clothing, but he was also blessed for such facial features. On top, he also possessed the best manners, catching everyone’s attention immediately. However, there was a layer of dark thoughts hidden within, and Nikolai found it to be the most beautiful part. It contained the man’s actual feelings, including so much more Nikolai hadn’t gotten his hands on yet.

“The sky is pretty, isn’t it?” Fyodor voiced aloud, aware of the eye on him. In response, the other’s gaze remained on him, growing confident. “Just like you, Fedya~” Nikolai cooed, intent on experiencing his fiancé’s reaction. The latter’s expression remained the same, but if Nikolai hadn’t known any better, he would’ve said Fyodor’s ears were turning slightly red. “Why thank you,” he murmured merely, eyes not trailing astray from the sky.

Yet, he appeared to have changed his mind as he turned around and faced the other. No words were exchanged, but Fyodor’s intense gaze alone was enough for Nikolai’s entire body to turn hot and cold. Those purple eyes were looking straight at him, making him feel so exposed in such a beautiful way. He felt an indescribable emotion, his heart picking up its speed. Perchance, it was the moon shining from above as it created the perfect lighting. Or mayhaps it was Fyodor’s beauty and immense gaze that could pry open anything by itself.

Exhaling peacefully, Nikolai tried to maintain eye contact. Despite the man wanting to appear unwavering, his gloved hands were fumbling on his side. He would’ve paid anything to obtain a single piece of the other’s thoughts. In that magical moment, he desired for his emotions to be shared. And so, the prince asked aloud, “What are you thinking about right now, Fedya?” The man in question had his eyes widen for mere seconds, the eyes’ blinking disrupting the eye contact.

“Why are you asking me?” he questioned instead, a curious glint in his gaze. Pouting, Nikolai poked the other’s chest. “You’re avoiding the question,” he huffed as he tried to cross his arms while lying on the ground. “Am I?” Fyodor murmured, placing a finger on his face. “I suppose I’m thinking about you mainly, considering we’re across each other.” That response made Nikolai’s heart flutter, even when the answer was purely logical. Smiling contently, Nikolai extended his arms to touch the other’s face.

“Will I be on your mind tomorrow as well? Or the following days?” he asked with a piercing gaze, hoping to be the one to expose Fyodor. “That merely depends on your actions,” the latter challenged as his eyes wandered to the thumb on his jaw. “What are you going to do, Kolya?” An excited feeling rushed through Nikolai, urging him to move closer. As he inched near, he whispered, “Well, what do you want me to do, Fedya?” Hot breath grazed the other’s skin, clothes dirtied by the shifting around.

Nikolai could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his hand shaking. Various thoughts raced through his head as he was so close to the other. Even their previous, rather intimate, moment didn’t pull them that near, separating them before Nikolai had accepted the challenge. Yet now, Fyodor placed a hand on the prince’s cheek the same, smiling devilishly. “I’m not telling you to do anything. You can decide for yourself,” he replied in a low voice, eyes traveling all over the other’s face.

Those sentences pierced through Nikolai’s heart anew, sparks present in his gaze. But, as he decided what to do precisely, a voice called out to the two. “We are departing. Unless you want to be left behind, we suggest you come with us,” his mother shouted, voice loud and clear. Upon being reminded of their parents, both broke out of their trance as they got up. Sighing, Nikolai glanced at the dirt on his clothes and tried to brush it off. “I’m so going to get in trouble for this!” he exclaimed dramatically, clutching his fiancé’s shoulders for support.

The latter merely patted the other’s head as he had no clue what else to do. Then, Nikolai lifted his arms and head, turning around. Together they soon joined their parents. “What did you do to your clothes,” both queens cried out disdainfully upon noticing their presence. While Nikolai struggled to form a response, only laughing nervously, Fyodor remained calm. “We fell,” he merely responded, his tone so convincing anyone would’ve believed him.

Considering Fyodor replied instead of his fiancé, their parents accepted the response. Despite that, the queens complained about the princes’ clumsiness when they entered the carriage. Unbothered, Fyodor sat down on one side, accompanied by Nikolai. The latter appeared in a good mood, legs slightly bouncing up and down. As soon as the vehicle got moving, Fyodor leaned over. “Don’t forget to deliver the letter. It’s important,” he whispered into his fiancé’s ear, making sure to time it so their parents wouldn’t have noticed.

It took Nikolai quite some time to process the information as he was too focused on their closeness anew. But when it got to him, he eagerly nodded, grinning mischievously. “How could I ever forget?” he drawled with a low voice, making a mental note to remember. The tailor was around constantly, always making changes to the outfits when he was asked to. Presumably, he wasn’t hard to find, letting the prince obtain the chance to deliver the letter. Despite his curiosity to know the contents of the paper, Nikolai restrained himself from performing useless acts.

After all, his dear fiancé trusted him.

The ride back was quieter than the previous one, their parents barely talking, if at all. Admittedly, Nikolai appreciated the silence much more, peering outside. Furthermore, he felt close to falling asleep, head leaning against the side. Glancing at his fiancé, he found the other in the same state, eyelids barely staying up. Amused, Nikolai gave in and closed his eyes, exhausted from the whole day. Thankfully, they stopped in front of the palace before he drifted off to dreamland.

After everyone exited the vehicle, the Dostoevsky family stepped toward their carriage. The elders bid their regular farewells, yet Nikolai merely blocked them out. With one graceful move, he dropped to his knee and took the other’s hand. Kissing it softly, the prince gazed up at his fiancé. “As much as I hate seeing you leave once again, this goodbye will be the last of this kind,” he said, lips moving slightly against pale skin. “The next time we meet will be the most delightful of all.”

Nodding, Fyodor’s eyes never left Nikolai’s, a smile appearing on both their faces. “Even so, I wish you a farewell, Kolya,” the former spoke peacefully and retracted his hand. Then, he turned around and left as Nikolai rose. Until his fiancé was entirely out of sight, the prince’s gaze lingered on him, watching his every step. As soon as Nikolai stepped into his home, he acknowledged the things that had occurred. Letting the servants prepare a bath, he entered his room with a sigh.

The prince had enjoyed the other’s company so much, longing to reconnect soon. However, those feelings were starting to feel suffocating. The same man holding the key to his cage chained him down, preventing him from taking off. Whether Nikolai wanted to stay on the ground with him or fly off, he didn’t know. With one glance, the prince spotted the purple rose swimming in the glass, shining through the moonlight.

“You are indeed so beautiful and dangerous.”

<><><><><><><>

Chuckling to himself, Fyodor gazed at the stars in the sky. It was the night before the big day, the wedding. Every chess piece had been placed, and every requirement was fulfilled. Almost, that is. He had trusted Nikolai to deliver the letter without any problems, yet he couldn’t obtain confirmation. Besides, there were things to pick up as asked for prior. Nonetheless, the day had finally come after years of planning. No mistake could be made, and he paid attention to not performing out of line.

Smiling as he got up, the prince retreated from the garden and entered the palace. As expected, a servant stood at his doors, a box in the other’s hand. Upon arriving, the servant let out a relieved sigh, bowing instantly. “Your Highness, I fulfilled my duties,” he announced, holding out the box for the prince to take. “I thank you,” the latter replied politely, accepting the case. Then, the servant leaned slightly closer, whispering lowly, “The request was rather odd. What will those be needed for?”

Yet, the man realized his mistake soon after, laughing nervously. “I forgot myself! Your Highness must have a good reason,” he hurriedly added as he bowed anew. Fyodor merely shook his head and waved the other off. “It is no issue,” he said while faking a graceful smile, “although I would appreciate being left alone now.” Nodding eagerly, the servant moved his legs. “Of course! Of course!” the man exclaimed as he started withdrawing. “Who am I to disturb Your Highness?”

Before long, he was out of sight entirely, leaving behind only silence. Without hesitation, Fyodor opened his doors, signalizing the guards to depart. Then, he entered and closed the doors behind him. The only light in his room was the moon shining through the window, illuminating the objects inside. Humming softly, the prince seated himself by his desk, placing the box on top. After opening the case, he was met with two long knives wrapped carefully in red paper.

Unsurprised, Fyodor unwrapped and took them out. As he placed the weapons on the table, he disregarded the box, pushing it to the edge of his desk. Studying the knives with keen eyes, the prince picked one up. After finding no casualties, he smiled, putting the weapon away. The servant had rightfully asked before; the reason was odd. But it was apparent he should not have spilled the plan. He supposed the man wouldn’t have supported his ideas.

After all, Fyodor was planning to kill his parents with one of them. The knife would twist out their hearts, both metaphorically and literally. Years and years, he had waited for the day to come, the day he ended not only his parents’ lives but also started something new. Yet, there had been one thing that changed; his fiancé. Previously, Fyodor had planned to kill both his parents and the ones of his future spouse before also filling their vision with blood. However, Nikolai willingly longed to kill his parents, disregarding previous ideas.

Furthermore, Fyodor did not want to kill his fiancé. Another change to his plans was due to fond feelings of affection in his heart, the other too big of a part of his life. It was surprising of the prince to care for someone as he didn’t even harbor such feelings for his parents. A pawn on the chessboard shaped into a person standing by his side, gloved hands wrapped around the other. To some degree, Fyodor didn’t have it in him to mind, content with the way things had progressed.

The night under the stars was a memory burning in his mind, seemingly not going away. Even with a fabric covering the other’s hands, Fyodor had felt the warmth from those fingertips spread to his pale face. For the first time in his life, he saw someone as more than part of a plan. Although such emotions could be dangerous, the prince knew its risks and was determined to work with and through them. It had only been a month since they first met, yet Fyodor felt they would stay together for more.

Leaning back in his chair, he gazed upon the white flower on his nightstand. It glowed in the light of the moon, remaining still. “I cannot wait to see you fully bloom tomorrow, my dear Kolya,” he murmured to someone not present. Then, he rose from his seat and walked toward his bed, grasping the flower in his hand. Closing his eyes, the prince leaned back, his head hitting the soft pillows. Placing the flower on his stomach, Fyodor looked at the ceiling. Despite growing attached to his fiancé, the priority was something else.

The Book.

It contained material powerful enough to alter realities. Upon killing his parents during the wedding, a pathway to it would open. Fyodor had obtained information on the Book long ago but never had a chance to get his hands on it. Therefore, he calculated every move and started plotting. Gaining his parents’ trust, specifically, his mother’s, played an enormous part in it. The reason for obtaining such a powerful object was simple;

To erase all nobles.

Throughout life, Fyodor had to learn the hard way about how royal families behaved. Make one mistake, and you shall be punished immensely; Nikolai was living proof of that. Such ranks led to pride and feelings of superiority, disregarding everyone below them. There were no greater evils than those people, yet Fyodor intended to step above them. As he had told his fiancé, ‘And to defeat this evil, you have to be even worse yourself.’

Therefore, the prince plotted since he was young, eagerly awaiting the day when he would change the fate of many. Whether he may be called a savior or the devil, he didn’t care whatsoever. The only goal of his life was to change the wretched life of his, now along with Nikolai’s. Other than expected prior, Fyodor presumed his fiancé would be a witness to the plan, although he would have no one to tell the tale to. Furthermore, the former grasped Nikolai’s personality well enough to know he would be glad to be a part.

Contently, Fyodor rose to change into nightgear as he put the flower back into its glass. When he found the piece of clothing he was searching for, the prince swiftly returned to his bed, drawing the sheets over his upper body. Humming, he thought of the upcoming day and its results. Admittedly, Fyodor couldn’t deny looking forward to seeing his fiancé, slightly intrigued by the other’s actions. Based on the experience a few days prior, Nikolai wouldn’t kill with one motion. After all, Fyodor was only the push the other needed to perform such an act.

Fyodor let knives be prepared instead of poison to observe how his fiancé would behave. Considering his loathing and hatred deep within, death by poison wouldn’t have satisfied him. Besides, the other had always wondered how well red and white would mix. Were they to become one altogether or look terrible next to each other? Would a red flower let the white one bloom beautifully, overtaking other flowers of different colors?

“It is time for the grand finale.”

<><><><><><><>

“Is Your Highness ready?”

The sky was painted a gray color, filled with clouds. The queen had called it unfortunate, but Nikolai found rain to be the best thing if it were to occur. So far, water hadn’t fallen from the heavens yet, although it was only a matter of time before it would. Joyfully, the prince rose from his seat outside, clapping his hands. “More than ready,” he announced with a grin, leaving his chamber. He had already been dressed prior; the suit fit perfectly. As expected from the tailor, he had constructed it very well.

Despite that, Nikolai wondered what was written in the letter. True to himself and Fyodor, he hadn’t opened it before. Upon delivering the piece of paper, the prince watched the expression on the tailor’s face, a confused look yet eager to fulfill whatever had been written inside. However, Nikolai hoped his fiancé would explain the contents of the letter to him that day. If it was significant, he presumed it concerned him also.

The outfit was white, bearing gold assessments all over while there were hidden pockets. Admittedly, it was gorgeous. Yet, Nikolai didn’t know what the other choices were. With vast steps, he made his way through the inside before arriving at the outside. There waited the fanciest carriage the prince had ever seen, decorated with red roses. Presumably, it only furthered the perfection his parents were striving for. Nikolai couldn’t wait to cut through the “significant” flawlessness.

As he entered the vehicle, he noticed his parents’ absence and felt relieved. The prince had the entire space to himself, with no annoying voices telling him what to do. Not that they would talk much anymore, anyway. When the carriage left for the wedding place, Nikolai leaned his head back, thinking. The biggest day and moment of his life had come. Some insane satisfaction had spread through him when he told his parents, and they merely thought it was because of a wedding. After all, marriage is supposed to be an enormous moment in life.

But oh, it was so much more.

It was the day he would free himself, shedding blood without mercy. His sympathy for his parents had long since disappeared; instead, longing to see them scream in pain had appeared. He would take his sweet time, and he knew Fyodor would let him. He was free to do whatever he wanted to, regardless. Nikolai presumed his sense of perfection differed from his parents; bloodshed in a gorgeous spot while he would hear the begging for life.

Yet, there was also Fyodor. That man had impacted Nikolai’s life severely, leading him to commit the sin he had been waiting to perform. Nonetheless, the latter admired his fiancé more than he would’ve liked. With every move, he was astonished by the other more. Fyodor held not only the key to his liberty but also the key to his heart, the door to Nikolai. Despite that, the latter wasn’t moved by any strings and moved around freely instead.

It felt so refreshing, truly. But when he got out of the cage, would he fly? Would he spread his wings, or would a part of gravity pull him back down? Those questions were waiting to be answered, and Nikolai determined he was to get a response that day. Every touch of the other had spiked something within him, sometimes even words. At the ball, Fyodor told the prince he understood, and that statement had never been proven false. It felt so exposing to be seen through at that level, leading Nikolai to question whether he liked it or precisely not.

“Your Highness, please get out,” the coachman requested, his hand held out. Only then did Nikolai get pulled out of his thoughts, acknowledging they had reached their destination. With that, he hopped out of the carriage, ignoring the hand. It was all done on purpose and let the coachman feel dumbfounded as he had never been treated like that in his entire life. Smiling wickedly, Nikolai moved onward, disregarding every guard on his way.

As expected, there were several carriages in line. It proved the Dostoevsky family to be present as they likely also appeared separably. Unexpectedly, however, Nikolai felt a hand around his waist before he met his parents. The touch was cold and barely noticeable, yet a different type of cold lingered in his pockets. Visually, nothing changed, not even anything looking suspicious. But when Nikolai reached into his pockets, his heart stopped for several seconds. In it was a knife.

The outer layer of clothing hid the pockets incredibly well; the weapon was unseen. Soon, he realized the person who had put it there. “Fedya,” he whispered to someone long gone as he stared into space. After recollecting himself, Nikolai grinned and jumped up and down on his way to find his parents in the best of moods. Despite the clouds promising rain, his behavior was more cheerful than ever, braid swinging behind his shoulders as he walked.

“It is rather unfortunate we can not cancel the wedding despite the weather,” he heard his mother sigh, eyes trailing to the sky. When she saw his son arrive, her expression changed into joy. “The suit fits perfectly,” she exclaimed gleefully, expression softening. Nikolai didn’t miss the way the queen complimented the outfit rather than her son and painted a fake smile on his face. “Doesn’t it?” he merely said, amused by the fact it wouldn’t stay white throughout the ceremony. The king also nodded approvingly to that.

Without many other words exchanged, every further adjustment was made. The place got filled with purple and white decorations, either placed on banks, sidewalks, or on the altar. Even a cake had been prepared, if only for its visuals. Despite the wedding being private, other families, such as cousins of the participants, came, seating themselves. Before long, preparations were done, and the princes had long been separated for the ceremony.

Upon glancing at the number of people, Nikolai sighed yet grinned. His main objective was his parents, but he didn’t mind killing the rest of his family, either. There were approximately twenty people in the crowd, he determined. All the coachmen and guards got placed several hundreds of feet away, out of sight for the wedding. Killing around ten people would pose a challenge, but what did the others have for defense? In the worst case, he had to rely on Fyodor. After all, the latter had proved himself to be swift and cunning.

“Ready?” the king asked Nikolai, locking arms with him. Immediately resenting the touch, the prince forced a smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?” he responded before his forced smile turned sinister. His father thought nothing of it, merely shaking his head. Bells started ringing loudly, music playing from an organ organized for this event. As the two went along the sidewalk, Nikolai’s gaze met the one of his fiancé, the former mesmerized by the other. Considering their previous encounter was brief, he hadn’t had a chance to look at Fyodor.

The prince wore the same outfit, yet his hair was tied up slightly. It let the silver earring shine from his one ear, paired with the necklace on his neck. His tied-up hair complimented his pale features even more, purple eyes further visible. Gasping a little, Nikolai was led to his fiancé, joining hands. Instead of the gloves he usually wore on his fingers, his hands were bare. There, the prince realized how ghostly Fyodor’s hand looked compared to his.

Aware people were watching, Nikolai whispered to his fiancé, “You look gorgeous, Fedya.” This sentence was said with such honesty and admiration that Fyodor seemed to be taken aback. “Thank you. The same goes for you,” he replied in the same tone, watching a blush form on the other’s cheeks. Blocking out the officiant’s words, Nikolai’s eye traveled from his soon-to-be husband to the crowd of people watching with anticipation. Huffing, he could feel the coldness on his waist, longing to be removed.

Soon, his hands started to begin shaking. Something akin to a thrill covered him from head to toe, his vision blurry. However, a fierce grip was holding his hands, Fyodor’s thumb caressing the other’s palm. “Wait just a little bit more,” he mumbled softly, not audible to anyone other than Nikolai. It was scary how easily the latter relaxed, his tense posture shrinking. Although his shaking ended, the exciting burning in his heart could never be calmed.

“Nikolai Gogol,” the officiant snapped the two out of their trance, “will you take Fyodor Dostoevsky to be your husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, you promise to love and cherish him?” After that, silence ensued, and only a cough from one of the guests was heard. Then, Nikolai grinned devilishly, breaking into insane laughter. “Well, what do you say, Fedya?” he asked the other, eye sparkling with delight.

“No.”

Blood splashed on the altar as a knife made contact with the officiant’s neck, the throat cut. Fyodor’s eyes remained calm when he turned around to face the audience. Gasps and screeches were heard all over as the people were unable to grasp what was occurring. Upon witnessing the bloodbath starting, Nikolai drew his knife and got to work. Greedily, he rushed to the audience, stabbing whoever of his family he encountered. His kills weren’t as smooth and fast as Fyodor’s; there was far more stabbing than necessary.

Yet, he liked it, watching as his clothing turned red. Nikolai’s thoughts were racing, his hands shaking with excitement. After so long, he could free himself from all responsibility, escaping from the cage. Every person was too much in shock to run away, getting brutally killed by the two princes. Red flew everywhere, staining the flowers and objects. As the agonizing cries of the victims were let out, Nikolai laughed, left eye blown wide.

Suddenly, the rain started pouring from the heavens, soaking the corpses. Before long, the prince stood over his parents, his gaze deadly. “We raised you!” the woman screamed, trembling in fear. Raising his knife, Nikolai looked at them unbothered. “Maybe if you beg and cry for help, I will let you live,” he requested, pointing the weapon at his parents. With that, both fell to their knees as they pressed their foreheads into the dirt.

“Please, son, let us live! We will do anything you ask of us!” the king cried out in panic, sweat dripping down his face. Humming, Nikolai considered the plea as he let raindrops fall from his braid. “Hmmm, fine,” he then replied, dragging out the last word. His parents looked up immediately, hope evident on their pathetic faces. Their hair and outfits were ruined by the mud below them. “Really?” his mother asked, her behavior almost changing into her regular anew.

“Just kidding~” Nikolai whispered, a grin wide enough to be insane appearing on his face. He rammed the knife into his father’s head, blood flowing from the top. The king screamed and shouted in pain, but the prince didn’t let it end there. After all, it wasn’t enough to kill, he told himself. Upon removing the knife from the other’s body, he bent down to stab him anew in his heart, twisting it painfully. Despite those actions, the king still appeared to be breathing, albeit barely.

“Enjoy bleeding to death!” Nikolai exclaimed with a cheerful voice as he pulled out the knife. With that, he stomped toward the queen once more, luring over his prey. Frozen in shock, she remained on the ground, tears leaving her eyes. Calmly, the prince removed the card from his right eye, placing it in his pockets. “Do you remember causing this?” he questioned while pointing to his blind eye, blood dripping down his hand. Blinking slightly, the woman turned her head, expression horrified.

Considering Nikolai received no reply, he sighed as he kneeled beside her. “Do you want to feel how I remember feeling, then?” he threatened, weapon hovering dangerously close to the other’s face. In response, the queen shook her head aggressively, crying, “I apologize! For whatever sin I have committed, please let me live! I will make it up to you!” Begging, she threw her face in the dirt, her entire figure trembling. There was slight blood from her husband in her hair.

“Look me in the eyes,” the prince commanded, voice softer than before. Sniffing, his mother looked up, greeted by a smile. Then, Nikolai swung his knife and let it hit the other’s right eye. The queen screamed out in pain as she clutched her bleeding eye, hands getting bloody. “That’s how I screamed too,” her son said with a satisfied grin, “yet you don’t even remember.” With that, he crawled over his mother, knife held high. So much red was beneath Nikolai, making him feel dizzy.

“Then I will give you something you won’t forget even in your next life!”

Laughing, he stabbed the other nonstop, continuing even after her breathing had stopped. Blood was spilling out beautifully, completely drowning his mother. After running out of power, Nikolai rose silently, watching the rain wash away the red. “Your lives end perfectly, don’t they?” he whispered to no one in particular as he stared at the corpses of his parents. His breath was uneven as he stood above the dead bodies, pupils were blown wide. Red stained his gloves and clothes, mixing red and white. Yet, that didn’t matter.

He was free.

Yet, why couldn’t he fly? The cage had been unlocked, and he escaped it swiftly. However, when Nikolai saw Fyodor’s approach, he knew why. The very man that freed him also pulled him down, preventing him from flying away. Those feelings he harbored for the other were intense, binding him. Admittedly, Fyodor looked stunning the way he was now, hands bloody with face and clothes drenched in red. And Nikolai hated how he longed to stay by the other’s side.

“White does fit the red well, doesn’t it?” Fyodor asked as he stepped beside his fiancé, eyes not leaving him. Sighing, Nikolai turned around to face his beloved directly, extending his hand. “Yes, it does. But you promised me a dance, correct?” Smiling fondly, Fyodor reached for the hand given. “I suppose I did,” he replied as he pulled the other closer to put a hand on his shoulder. Pale, red hands came in contact with bloodied gloves, fingers linking together.

With that, Nikolai placed his free hand on his fiancé’s waist and took off. Amidst the several lifeless bodies and pools of blood, they danced, twirling around as rain hit their heads. Even without music, they moved perfectly in sync. For everything in the world, Nikolai would never trade this moment of his life. Astonished, he took in his surroundings as his feet never stopped, leading his fiancé across the floor. Perchance, he was even given the chance to lead.

“So, did you also kill every coachman and guard?” Nikolai questioned as they spun around, his foot almost hitting one’s arm. There was something so similar to their first meeting that the prince felt nostalgic. Nodding slightly, Fyodor’s gaze wandered over to the mess, careful not to step on anyone. “Yes, I killed them all. There should be no witnesses,” he replied upon returning his eyes to the other. “I’m assuming you have finished your business as well?”

Instead of responding, Nikolai threw back his head, allowing rain onto his face. “Say, Fedya,” he started while turning the other around, “do you think killing you would free me?” At first, Fyodor seemed slightly taken aback before it dissolved into a smile. “I told you to try whatever you want to do today,” he admitted, expression soft. “But if you care for me, wouldn’t it let you grieve? Even now, you have the perfect chance to end my life, but you’re not performing so.”

Once more, Nikolai felt seen through, every fiber of his being understood. Luckily, he caught himself before he fell on his feet. As he hurried to catch up with his fiancé, the prince said, “What if I merely want to hold on for a bit longer and then kill you?” Shaking his head fondly, Fyodor turned around gracefully. “That means you’re still hesitating. If you truly wished to kill me, wouldn’t you have done so already?” he challenged, eyes unwavering.

Those words spoken moved something deep inside Nikolai. His emotions were conflicted, and to get rid of those, he planned on killing the one causing them. After all, it had been the same with his parents. Fyodor had shown him that killing those people would free him, letting him breathe. Yet, why was he hesitating? If his fiancé was so awful to him, why couldn’t he swing his knife? All his life, he had chased liberty, and when the other man held the key in his hands, he couldn’t take it.

Slowly, Nikolai acknowledged they were moving away from the scene toward the carriages. Step after step, they turned on the grass, surrounded by wet flowers. The rain didn’t stop as thunder was audible in the background. From the edges of their hair were dropping both water and blood, mixing it beautifully. Even on their way back lay dead bodies, presumably killed by Fyodor. The path was anything but empty, filled with puddles of brown and red.

Before long, the two reached the white, decorated with red roses carriage. Several men were spread on the ground, seemingly dead. Upon arriving, Nikolai smiled as he dipped the other the last time before letting go. Their dance was even better than the previous one, admittedly due to deeper emotions and deeper wounds on the side. Everything had passed so fast, leading to Nikolai mourning the loss of contact as they parted.

“Now, what are we going do?” he asked his fiancé, leaning against the vehicle. Considering they had just killed a bunch of people with severe blood on their hands, the prince wondered how they would get away with it. “Let’s head back to my palace,” Fyodor responded calmly, seating himself in the front. Shrugging his shoulders, Nikolai joined the other, also sitting down. “Do you have a plan, Fedya?” he decided to question as they departed from the place, entering the wet streets of the kingdom.

“You will see,” his fiancé merely replied, gaze fixed on the road. People were usually inside due to the upcoming storm, yet some still had to stay outside, either cleaning or buying certain items. Whenever those spotted the approaching carriage with two men on there, they exclaimed how dirty they were. However, they failed to realize those stains were blood instead of dirt that belonged to princes. Who was to blame them? The rain had soaked the clothing, and the carriage was moving too fast to see.

Nonetheless, no one stopped them as they made their way toward the Dostoevsky palace. Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes turned into hours. Considerably, the ride wasn’t too long from one kingdom to another, but it felt like such a long time for Nikolai. Despite not being bored upon talking to Fyodor, he wished to see the plan unfold. In the end, their sins were big, and he ought to know what his fate would look like.

“We never got officially married, correct? Do I still call you my fiancé?” Nikolai asked after a while, bouncing his leg up and down. They had almost reached their destination, the building visible. “Whatever you want,” Fyodor replied with tired eyes, fed up with all the driving. After that response, Nikolai got to thinking. “So, I can call you my dearest friend, boyfriend, fiancé, and husband all at once?” he murmured under his breath, a grin appearing on his features.

Precisely, he didn’t like one label. If he were married to someone, it’d bind him down. Furthermore, those feelings toward the other would strengthen when he called him his “husband.” That was what he told himself, at least. There was a knot in his stomach whenever he thought of his fiancé. At first, there was true freedom at the end of the tunnel if he were to kill the obstacle on the way. However, that same obstacle was dear to him.

The silence was shattered as soon as the vehicle stopped before the royal building, Fyodor hopping off. Coming to his senses, Nikolai soon followed, the braid behind his back dripping water. It had never once stopped raining, clouds releasing lightning and thunder. Despite all that, neither cared, as they had other things to be concerned about. Luckily, the temperature was warm, leading no one to shiver in the cold.

Fyodor walked ahead, posture straight. “Hello, dear guards, we have returned,” he said in a low voice, not stopping to look the people in the eye. “There’s nothing to be concerned about; the king and queen will arrive shortly.” Quickly, Nikolai followed the other, smiling at the lie told. It spilled across Fyodor’s lips like breathing, his body language not betraying one thing. Indeed an admirable and scary feast.

Despite their dirty clothing, no one asked about anything. After all, they had to follow a rule known throughout the palace: Never question anything the royal family does. It was a saying Fyodor established when he was younger, pleading to his mother with adorable eyes. Even that had been a lie and an act. That rule had helped him before plenty of times, yet it was for moments like these that he made that deal back then.

Nikolai was astonished by the casualty they were treated with, blood evident on his gloves. Nonetheless, he moved closer to the other, eye scanning the area. “Can you tell me where we’re going?” he inquired, adjusting the card he had put back on his eye during the ride. Chuckling, Fyodor didn’t respond until they reached an almost hidden hallway. The path was dark; torches spread along the walls to obtain light. At the end was a door, almost invisible.

“We’re here,” he announced as his hand reached into his pocket. A key ended up in his palm, using it to unlock the door in front of them. Watching with intense eyes, Nikolai peered over the other as they entered. Immediately, his expression turned sour, waving a hand through the air. “Pew! It smells disgusting here!” he exclaimed, pouting when he saw his fiancé not reacting. Following Fyodor’s gaze, Nikolai’s eye landed on an enormous book with seemingly countless pages.

The room was filled with books, although it was relatively small. Yet, on a table in the corner lay a book so magnificent that the two princes gasped, one slightly louder than the other. After all, Nikolai had never known about the object before. “The Book,” Fyodor whispered in excitement, his pupils blown wide. With pale and bloodied fingers, he traced the patterns of the cover, mesmerized. Curious, Nikolai joined his fiancé, leaning his chin on the other’s shoulders to look.

“What is this book, and how do you know about it?” he asked, his head unmoving. Sighing, although not annoyed, Fyodor gazed at the man on his shoulder. “The Book can alter realities,” he began, careful not to move around too much to disturb the other’s position, “I needed to obtain it. Ever since I was younger, I was aware of this chamber’s existence. The Book has been passed down from generation to generation; everyone entrusted not to use such a powerful object.”

As soon as Fyodor felt movement, he stopped talking, turning around to face his fiancé. “Oh no, continue! My position was getting uncomfortable,” Nikolai exclaimed, grabbing a seat beside the table the Book lay on. Smiling, Fyodor also sat down, crossing his hands as he spoke. “However, my mother is a rather difficult person. While our ancestors let the Book fall into the wrong hands, my mother was sure not to repeat those actions. Thus, she constantly tested me.”

“This world is far from perfect, and I realized that from a very young age. Nobles, and especially royal families, think of themselves as better beings. They constantly want to be perfect and force everyone else to be so further. That led to me developing a plan to gain my mother’s trust. On the day of the wedding, she would have the key to this room on her to give it to me later. With this book, I can change reality and wipe out every noble.”

“But,” Fyodor stopped for a second, eyes growing slightly dark, “my mother would’ve changed her mind. Despite me gaining all her trust, she was a fickle woman and would’ve hidden the key after today. There was no other way in; I tried. The door is constructed of the finest material, and no one could break in.” Leaning back, he gazed at his fiancé with a smile. “That is precisely why I had to kill her before she could escape.”

Nikolai appeared shocked at first, but his lips melted into a grin. “And yet you didn’t even have evidence your mother would do that?” he questioned with great interest, head on his hand. Nodding, Fyodor’s expression remained as he tilted his head. “Precisely,” he replied, “this was all based on predictions and calculations. Whether my mother would have given me the key, after all, is undetermined, yet unlikely; for this to work, I should take no risks.”

“And to defeat this evil, you have to be even worse yourself. You weren’t only talking about me that time, were you?” Nikolai mused, his eye glinting with amusement. Fyodor gave no reply, merely turning to the Book as he took hold of a pen scattered somewhere. At that moment, several thoughts raced through Nikolai’s head, his gaze fixed on his fiancé. Hesitating, he rose as he pulled out the knife he had been hiding in his pockets anew, fingers shaking as he held it high.

“You won’t kill me,” Fyodor said softly, not even looking up from the paper. Those words, he should’ve hated them. They were almost commanding as if certain Nikolai wouldn’t perform after his will. Yet, his hands couldn’t move, hovering above the other’s head. No matter how hard he tried to strike, he couldn’t. Even so, no chains restrained his actions; Nikolai did it to himself. Therefore, he let the knife fall with a cling on the floor.

Perchance, Fyodor Dostoevsky was his liberty.

Throughout the past few weeks, Fyodor had surprised him more than he could count, fascinated by the other. Those purple eyes could see it all, and those pale hands could let him shiver with one touch. Nikolai constantly longed to see his fiancé, so how should he be able to end it so quickly? Furthermore, Fyodor was the reason he had been freed from the grasp of his parents. Even if Nikolai thought he was bound by chains to his fiancé, it wasn’t the case. Bound to his parents by force, yet bound to the other by choice.

Watching as Fyodor set the pen on the paper, he put his head on the other’s, humming softly. With bloodied gloved hands, Nikolai wrapped his arms around the cold body of his fiancé. Noticing the way Fyodor paused in his tracks at the action, he smiled. “Will I still be with you in the new world, Fedya?” he asked, the question almost muffled by dark hair. Mirroring the smile, his fiancé replied, “Yes, you will, Kolya.” Then, the ink came in contact with the heavenly power of the Book, painting the world in a new color.

“Perhaps staying with you a bit more won’t hurt,” Nikolai whispered softly, closing his eyes peacefully.

“I hope so,” Fyodor hummed back as he let the other pass out in that position.

<><><><><><><>

Bernadette
You are my liberty
I celebrate the day
That you changed my history
Oh, life and death
Will always lead you into love and regret
But you have answers
And I have the key
For the door to Bernadette

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