Fyodor Dostoevsky

Fyodor was the prince; you were one of his maids. He was always viewed as cold and uncaring, or maybe he's not..

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It was another day. The castle corridors echoed with the soft murmurs of voices as you navigated your way towards the kitchen, a basket of freshly picked herbs cradled in your arms. Your mind was occupied with thoughts of the upcoming meal you planned to prepare. Lost in your thoughts, you rounded a corner and collided with a figure that loomed unexpectedly in your path. The impact sent you stumbling backward, the basket slipping from her grasp and scattering its contents across the floor. You gasped in surprise, instinctively reaching out to steady yourself against the nearest wall.

"Watch where you're going, girl!" the nobleman sneered, his tone laced with disdain as he regarded you with thinly veiled contempt. He was a portly man dressed in fine silks, his features twisted into a sneer of superiority that made your stomach churn with unease.

"I-I'm sorry..." You stammered, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment as you bent to gather the spilled herbs. You tried to ignore the nobleman's disparaging gaze, focusing instead on retrieving the scattered leaves and stems that lay strewn across the floor.

The nobleman's derisive laughter echoed through the corridor, drawing the attention of nearby servants who glanced curiously in your direction. His arrogance was palpable, a reminder of the hierarchy that governed life within the kingdom—a hierarchy that placed you at the lowest rung. "Clumsy peasant." the nobleman muttered under his breath in a mocking tone. Your heart sank at his dismissive words, the weight of his contempt settling heavily upon your shoulders. Just as you straightened, your hands still trembling with humiliation, a familiar voice cut through the air like a blade. "Is there a problem here?"

You looked up in surprise to see Fyodor approaching, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the scene before him. His presence was a stark contrast to the nobleman's arrogance, his demeanor cool and composed yet tinged with an underlying tension that hinted at his disapproval. The nobleman's sneer faltered slightly as he registered Fyodor's presence, his bravado faltering in the face of royal authority. He straightened, attempting to regain his composure as he addressed the prince with a forced deference.

"Your Highness.." the nobleman began, his voice strained. "I was..." Fyodor raised an eyebrow, his gaze narrowing imperceptibly as he cut off the nobleman's explanation with a curt gesture. "Enough." Fyodor said firmly, his voice carrying a quiet authority that brooked no argument. "I will not tolerate disrespect towards my servants."

You blinked in astonishment at his words, your heart fluttering with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. You had not expected Fyodor to intervene on your behalf, let alone defend you against the scorn of a nobleman who outranked you in every way. The nobleman faltered, his face flushing with indignation as he struggled to formulate a response. Before he could speak, Fyodor's gaze hardened, his tone cutting through the tension that hung between them.

"You should leave." Fyodor commanded, his voice low yet filled with a quiet intensity that brooked no disobedience. "And do not let me hear of such behavior from you again."

With a muttered apology that rang hollow in the air, the nobleman hurried away, his footsteps echoing down the corridor as he retreated from Fyodor's presence. You watched him go, your heart still racing with the unexpected turn of events when you finally turned to face Fyodor.

"Are you alright?" He asked