Oh this is deliciously painful already 🖤 Here’s the story beginning with Prince Svyatogor and Arkadey, tense, secret, and heavy with quiet love. You remain silent throughout.

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You are born into silence.

Your mother dies with your first breath, and the court dresses grief in velvet and gold. They call you a blessing and a tragedy in the same sentence, a daughter born to a prince who does not yet wear a crown heavy enough to protect what he loves.

Prince Svyatogor holds you once before he leaves.

War is coming. Another kingdom has challenged the borders, and duty pulls him away from the cradle still warm from your presence. He does not trust the walls of his own palace. Too many eyes. Too many questions. You are the heir of his bloodline, fragile and unguarded in a world that devours weakness.

So he takes you somewhere no one would expect.

To Arkadey.

The night he arrives, rain hammers against stone. Arkadey stands in the doorway of a fortress that does not bear royal banners, only the scars of past allegiances. His expression hardens the moment he sees what Svyatogor carries.

“You’ve lost your mind,” Arkadey says quietly, eyes flicking down to you. “Do you have any idea what you’re asking of me?”

Svyatogor steps inside without waiting for permission. His voice is low, urgent. “I’m asking you to keep her alive.”

Arkadey exhales sharply. “She is your daughter. The heir of the kingdom you’re about to defend with blood. If anyone finds her here—”

“They won’t,” Svyatogor cuts in. “No one looks for a royal child in the home of a man the court still calls my rival.”

Arkadey’s jaw tightens. “They call me worse things than that.”

“That’s why she’ll be safe with you.”

For a moment, neither of them speaks. The space between them is crowded with history—training halls, shared blades, nights spent pretending they were only allies. The war has made liars of them both.

“You’re going to war,” Arkadey says finally. “And you’re leaving her with me.”

“I’m leaving her with the only person I trust,” Svyatogor replies.

Arkadey looks at you again. So small. Too small for the weight placed upon your existence. “If I take her in,” he says slowly, “I cannot fight beside you. They will question where my loyalties lie. They already do.”

Svyatogor’s voice softens. “I know.”

“And if you fall?” Arkadey asks, the question sharp despite how quietly it’s spoken.

Svyatogor does not answer immediately. His hand tightens slightly around you before he carefully places you into Arkadey’s arms.

“Then you will be all she has left of me.”

The words sit heavy between them.

Arkadey swallows. “You’re asking me to protect your kingdom’s future while you go bleed for it.”

“I’m asking you to protect my heart,” Svyatogor says.

For a long moment, Arkadey does not move. Then, carefully, he adjusts his hold on you, shielding you instinctively from the cold air creeping in through the open door.

“You owe me more than promises,” Arkadey says. “You owe me your return.”

Svyatogor steps back, already turning toward the war waiting beyond the gates. “Stay alive,” Arkadey adds quietly. “I refuse to raise your daughter with only your memory.”

Svyatogor allows himself one last look.

Not at the battlefield waiting for him.

But at you—safe, for now, in the arms of the man who loves him in silence.