Chapter Text
Osha lived constantly wishing to be someone else, a different face, a different family, a different society. Not unfoundedly, of course, her mother had wanted to make her the future matriarch, a matter she did not fully understand, as well as many things in her family (the fact that there was no male figure, and the repudiation her mother felt towards the royal family, although she herself was always trying to get their approval), Unfortunately that had not been her personal wish, her destiny so to speak, but that of her twin sister, Mae, unlike Osha, Mae had always been devoted to following the same path as her mother, always willing to follow orders and accept decisions.
As the presentation of both daughters to society approached, the atmosphere in the family became more and more tense, Osha hated the feeling of being presented as an object and sold to the highest bidder to then go to another prison where someone else would decide how she should act, dress and be, she was determined not to go through that, no matter what she had to do.
The problem would come at night, at the ball, where she would be forced to reciprocate the dance of certain suitors, her mother had been open to the postulates, however, mother Koril (important figure in her life, since she could remember she had always been at her mother's side) had written a list of honorable characters with whom she was allowed to dance and even talk, It is not that she had explicitly forbidden not to dance with someone else but she had remarked that those on the list were the only ones necessary, Osha just imagining the situation wanted to flee and therefore devised an escape plan, tonight she was going to flee, not from her home, she was not ready for it yet, but from that dance, that was decided.
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The night of the ball arrived like an anticipated storm, charged with anticipation and tension. The mansion sparkled with the glow of chandeliers and melodic laughter echoed through the corridors. Highborn guests, dressed in their finery, glided between banal conversations and glances charged with interest.
Osha, on the other hand, felt like a prisoner of her own dress, an outfit her mother had meticulously chosen, designed to highlight “her potential as a future lady.” Mae, her twin sister, looked radiant and perfectly in her element, moving gracefully among the guests while receiving compliments with an impeccable smile. Osha, upon seeing her, could only feel a mixture of jealousy and regret. Not because she wanted the role that Mae took on so easily, but because Mae seemed to have been born for it, while she herself did not fit even in her own skin.
Osha's plan was simple but risky: hold out long enough not to arouse suspicion and then disappear in the confusion of the guests. She wasn't sure exactly where she would go, but she knew she couldn't endure the night as planned by her mother and the omnipresent Mother Koril.
It was then, as she practiced her forced smile in front of the mirror, that she heard an intriguing whisper among the ladies-in-waiting. Qimir, the exiled prince-turned-artist, was among those in attendance. A scandal to some, a fascination to others. The idea of him being there, with his carefree reputation and disdain for rules, ignited a spark in Osha. If anyone could represent the opposite of the rigid world she despised, it was him.
During the first half of the dance, Osha stoically endured the greetings and dances with the “approved gentlemen”. Each turn made her feel more trapped. Finally, in a moment of distraction, when her mother and mother Koril were busy with the guests, Osha slipped out onto the terrace. There, the cool breeze offered her a respite, but also an unexpected sight.
Leaning against the railing, with a glass of wine in his hand and an expression of utter indifference to the splendor of the event, was Qimir. His dark hair shone in the moonlight, and there was something in his posture that screamed freedom.
-Fleeing or resting? -he asked without turning around, as if he had sensed her presence before she spoke.
Osha couldn't help but smile with some bitterness.
-A bit of both.
Qimir turned then, his eyes analyzing her with a relaxed, but intense curiosity.
-Interesting. Most here seem to enjoy their golden cage.
She took a step forward, her fingers trembling slightly as she clutched the fan she carried.
-Not all of us are made to fit in it.
Qimir smiled as he listened to Osha's response. There was something about her, in her defiant gaze and the way she held herself upright despite her obvious discomfort, that intrigued him deeply. He raised his glass in a silent toast and then set it down on the marble railing.
-If you're so willing to break the rules of this place,” he said with a hint of amusement in his voice, ”why don't you do something truly memorable?
Osha looked at him with curiosity and a hint of caution.
-What do you have in mind?
He extended a hand toward her, his long, elegant fingers open in invitation.
-Dance with me. Here, now, without music or permission.
Osha's heart skipped a beat. The idea was completely improper, and that was precisely the kind of challenge he needed. Without further hesitation, she placed her hand on Qimir's hand.
-Do you know how to dance, exiled prince? -he asked with a glint of humor in his voice.
-Enough to impress, but not so much as to bore.
Qimir led her to the center of the terrace, where the marble glistened in the moonlight. He placed a hand on her waist and took hers gently. Although there was no music, their movements were fluid, as if the rhythm was engraved in their souls. Osha couldn't help but giggle softly as they spun, feeling a freedom she had never experienced before.
However, the magic of the moment was abruptly broken. Mother Koril appeared at the entrance to the terrace, her face a mask of indignation. Her voice cut like a knife.
-Osha, what do you think you're doing?
Osha stepped back, letting go of Qimir's hand, as the figure of mother Koril advanced towards her with a look that could make anyone tremble.
-This is a disgrace! -Mother Koril exclaimed, gripping Osha's arm tightly. She looked at Qimir with disdain, as if he were a plague that had contaminated her ward. How dare you disobey us like this? This man... -He turned to Qimir with restrained fury. He is nothing but a brazen man without place or honor.
Osha tried to break free, but Mother Koril's grip was firm.
-It is none of your business who I dance with,” Osha said, though her voice trembled slightly.
-It's none of my business? -Mother Koril replied, her voice laden with sarcasm and fury. Everything you do is my business, because clearly you can't handle your own decisions. I've always said Mae is the worthy heir to our family, not you. Look what you've done! Do you think Mae would stoop to this level?
The comparison hurt more than Osha was willing to admit, but she didn't let Mother Koril see it. She lifted her chin, her gaze fixed on the woman who had been an authority figure all her life.
-I'm not Mae,” she said with unexpected firmness. And I never will be.
For a moment, the air grew tense. Mother Koril, clearly furious, tugged on Osha's arm to drag her back into the hall. Before she left, Qimir, who had been watching silently, stepped forward.
-Madam, if you will permit me to comment.... -she said with a cheeky smile. I think you should be proud. Few young women have the courage to choose their own path.
Mother Koril glared at him, but did not respond. Instead, she pulled Osha tighter, leading her back inside the hall, leaving behind a Qimir who looked at her with a mixture of admiration and amusement.
The days that followed Osha's ill-fated attempt to escape were a whirlwind of reproaches, comparisons and obligations that only reinforced her desire to leave her home. The mansion became an endless parade of suitors arriving with gifts and proposals for carriage rides or visits to the most beautiful gardens.
Although Osha agreed to go out with some, she did so out of pure obligation. Each outing was more unbearable than the last: the suitors treated her like a prize, a jewel to add to their collection, and none saw beyond the role her mother expected her to play.
One morning, as she breakfasted in the great room with Mae and Mother Koril, a commotion at the entrance to the mansion caught her attention. An awkward murmur from the servants came before an unmistakable voice echoed from the front door.
-I assure you, madam, my intentions are entirely honorable!
Osha dropped the spoon on her plate and rose at once, her heart racing with a mixture of disbelief and anticipation. She cautiously approached the foyer, where she found Qimir standing in the doorway, facing his mother with an expression of determination unusual for him.
His mother, clearly exasperated, was looking at him as if he were an insect she wanted to squash.
-What kind of audacity is this? You are nothing but a vagabond with no name and no position, and yet you have the audacity to show up at my house to ask for something so absurd.
Qimir did not flinch at her icy tone.
-I may not have a name or position that matters to you, madam, but I have something that many of the men who have passed through this door do not: intention to meet your daughter as a person, not as a trophy.
Osha froze for a moment, feeling the tension in the room become unbearable. Mother Koril pursed her lips and looked at him as if her patience was on the verge of collapse.
-Do you really think I will allow someone like you to take her to.... the square? -he said with a sneer. A place full of commoners and merchants. It is unthinkable.
Before Mother Koril could continue, Osha stepped forward, leaving Mae and the servants gaping behind her.
-If you won't allow it, Mother, then I will do it myself.
The entire room seemed to freeze the moment those words came out of her mouth. Mother Koril looked at her in disbelief.
-What are you saying, Osha?
-I'm saying I'm going with him,” she said firmly, lifting her chin. Because I'm tired of everything I do being under his control.
Qimir raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed, but merely extended an arm toward her.
-So, shall we go?
Mother Koril tried to stop her, but Osha had already made the decision. She walked past her mother, holding Qimir's hand, feeling a strange mixture of fear and release as she crossed the threshold of her home.
The square was full of life, with street musicians, children running around and the scent of freshly baked bread in the air. It was a complete contrast to the orderly, quiet world Osha knew. She walked beside Qimir, who watched her with a curious expression, letting the bustle fill the space between them.
-Was it difficult? -he asked finally, with an amused smile.
-What was? -she answered, not taking her eyes off the stalls full of fabrics and fruits.
-To say no for the first time.
She looked sideways at him, a small smile tugging at her lips.
-It was scary. But necessary.
Qimir nodded, his eyes sparkling with approval.
-Welcome to the first step to freedom, Miss Osha.
And as they strolled through the square, Osha felt, for the first time, that perhaps there could be a world outside the walls of her home, a world where she could be herself.
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The walk through the square was a breath of fresh air for Osha, but when Qimir offered to take her to his studio, curiosity and an inexplicable impulse led her to accept. She knew that returning home late would provoke her mother's fury, but at that moment, the weight of family expectations seemed farther away than ever.
Qimir's studio was tucked away in a secluded corner of the city, a small room at the top of a building with large windows that let in the afternoon light. The place was full of life: canvases stacked on the walls, vibrant colors spread out on a wooden table, and a scent of paint and weathered wood that was intoxicating.
-Welcome to my sanctuary,” Qimir said, gesturing broadly with his arms as he closed the door behind them.
Osha stepped inside, taking in every nook and cranny. Her gaze stopped on a particularly large canvas that occupied the center of the room. On it, a female figure stood against a stormy sky, with an expression of determination and melancholy that left her speechless.
-It's beautiful,” she whispered, slowly approaching the painting. Who is she?
Qimir leaned against a table, watching her with an enigmatic smile.
-Someone who does not yet know her place in the world, but who is willing to seek it.
Osha turned to look at him, feeling those words resonate deep within her.
-Do you always paint stories like this?
-I always paint what I feel,” Qimir replied, his voice softer. And sometimes what I see in others.
She felt a slight warmth in her cheeks and looked away, wandering among the canvases as she tried to calm the growing nervousness in her chest. Each painting seemed to tell a different story: passion, loss, hope. It was as if each brushstroke was loaded with emotions that needed no words to be understood.
Finally, she stopped in front of a smaller painting, an unfinished portrait of a woman whose eyes seemed to pierce through her.
-What about this one? -she asked, turning slightly toward him.
Qimir approached, his presence intensifying with each step until he was right beside her.
-She is someone I tried to understand, but she remains a mystery to me.
Osha looked up at him, and for a moment, the air between them seemed to grow thicker. Their eyes met, and the spark that had arisen on the terrace during the dance flared up again, stronger than ever.
-Do you always say things like that? -she murmured, with a small smile she could barely hold.
-Only when they're true.
The tension grew, and before Osha could decide whether to step back or remain in the moment, Qimir leaned in slightly, his eyes searching hers, waiting for a signal. Osha did not move, her breath caught between anticipation and desire for something unknown.
When their lips finally met, the world seemed to stop. The kiss was slow, charged with an emotion Osha had not experienced before. It was as if, for the first time, everything she was and everything she wanted to be were perfectly aligned.
When they broke apart, Qimir looked at her with an intensity that made her shiver.
-I hope you don't regret walking through that door,” he said in a whisper, with a faint smile.
Osha looked at him, her heart pounding.
-I don't regret it.
After the kiss, a comfortable silence filled the study, broken only by the distant sounds of the city and the faint creaking of the hardwood floors beneath their feet. Qimir, with his trademark smile but a new twinkle in his eye, invited her to stay for dinner.
-“I don't promise a feast,” he warned as he made his way to a small kitchen in the corner, “but I can offer something simple and, hopefully, tasty.
Osha watched him from where she stood, still surrounded by her paintings.
-After what I've just seen here, I trust you have good taste, even in cooking.
Qimir let out a short laugh as he began slicing a rustic loaf of bread and pulled cheeses and fruits from a small cupboard. Dinner was impromptu, but the atmosphere was warm and relaxed. Osha sat on a stool next to a table covered with brushes and jars of paint, and together they shared the modest feast as the conversation flowed.
-So, do you ever plan to be... a prince again? -Osha asked, her voice lighter but with a touch of genuine curiosity.
Qimir, who was currently filling two glasses of wine, paused for a moment before answering.
-No. That life is behind me. In exile I found something I never had in the palace: freedom. I wouldn't trade that for anything.
Osha stared at him, noting the slight tinge of pain in his words. It was hard not to compare it to her own situation. She too longed for freedom, but had not yet found the courage to take it fully.
As the evening progressed and dinner ended, Osha let out a sigh, knowing she must return home, but unwilling to face her mother's anger or the oppressive expectations that awaited her there.
-Qimir,” she finally said, her voice soft, as she fiddled with the edges of her napkin, ”May I stay here tonight?
The question took him by surprise, though his face did not immediately show it. He leaned back in his chair, studying her for a moment.
-Are you sure?
Osha nodded slowly.
-I don't want to go home, not yet. I'm not ready to face her.
Qimir averted his gaze to the window, where the moon dimly illuminated the room. He was used to solitude and keeping things simple, but Osha complicated everything with her beauty, strength and vulnerability. It was hard to ignore how her presence affected everything around him, especially him.
-It's okay,” he finally said, standing up. You can stay. But you'll have your own space.
Osha smiled, relieved.
-Thank you, Qimir.
He showed her a small corner of the study, where there was a chaise longue covered with blankets.
-It's not a palace, but I think it will be enough for one night.
She nodded and began to settle in, as Qimir removed the remnants of dinner and turned off the lights, leaving only a dim lamp illuminating the space.
As she lay down on her makeshift bed, Osha realized that this was the first night in a long time that she didn't feel the weight of familiar expectations on her shoulders. Meanwhile, Qimir sat in front of a blank canvas, trying to concentrate on painting, but his thoughts kept returning to the young woman who now slept in his studio.
He told himself that he should respect the boundaries he had set, but he could not ignore the fact that, for the first time in a long time, someone had entered his life and made everything seem less lonely.
The studio was quiet, barely illuminated by the warm light of the lamp next to the easel. Osha awoke in the early morning, her senses alert to the quiet around her. She turned her head and saw Qimir, sitting in front of a canvas, concentrating, his movements precise as his brush traced soft lines and delicate colors.
She noticed that he was not wearing a shirt, and the dim light accentuated the defined muscles of his back. Not wanting to make a sound, she slowly rose from the chaise longue and walked toward him. As she got closer, she noticed the face on the canvas: it was her.
The depiction was not an exact copy, but there was something in the expression, in the eyes full of melancholy and hope, that made her pause. It was as if Qimir had captured a part of her that she didn't even know existed.
Without much thought, she leaned toward him and hugged him from behind, resting her cheek against his bare shoulder. Qimir tensed for a moment in surprise, but then put the brush aside and relaxed under her touch.
-“Thank you, Qimir,” Osha whispered, her voice full of sincerity. For everything. For showing me that there is more beyond the walls around me, that there are paths I had not considered before.
Qimir turned his head slightly, glancing sideways at her with a soft but intrigued smile.
-I haven't done anything, Osha. You are the one who is discovering those paths.
She shook her head, still hugging him.
-It's not true. If I hadn't met you, I never would have had the courage to look beyond you. I always thought my life was already written, but you have shown me that maybe it doesn't have to be that way.
Qimir let out a low, almost inaudible laugh.
-You're braver than you think. You just needed a little push.
Osha pulled away a little, but kept her hands on his shoulders, forcing him to turn to look at her.
-You're more than a push, Qimir. You are...
She paused, searching for the right words, but he interrupted her.
-Don't say anything. You don't need to.
The intensity in his eyes made her feel vulnerable yet safe. Osha nodded, letting the moment speak for itself. Finally, Qimir took a blanket from a chair and draped it over her shoulders.
-Go back to sleep,” he said softly. The night is long, and you still have many decisions to make.
Osha looked at him one last time before returning to his place. As he settled back on the chaise longue, he realized that, although the future was still uncertain, it did not frighten him as much as before. And he knew, without a doubt, that this night would mark a before and after in his life.
