Chapter Text
It was so cold that winter in Saint Petersburg. You had just arrived in town from your little village tucked away in Siberia. At 13 your parents sent you to Yekaterinburg to work as a maid: you worked for a middle class family at first, before a noblewoman heard you singing as you were doing laundry one afternoon. She immediately went and took you off that family's hands, as you served her you learned fast, and eventually became her handmaid. After a couple years she received a marriage offer from a prince, she was to move to Saint Petersburg for the wedding. Of course, she demanded to bring you along, and paid your parents a good amount of your yearly pay in advance. The night before you were to leave you cried in your parents' arms. You knew your family needed the money, but Yekaterinburg was already a hard adjustment, you were only able to see your family once a month, now that you were going to Saint Petersburg, you probably wouldn't see them for years.
The royal palace was vast, and so beautiful. Though you didn't have much time to stand and stare at the golden decorations, the endless paintings, for the noblewoman turned princess you served had become quite demanding. You were always running around, getting her ready, getting her water, adjusting her gowns at the last minute. She'd have you sing every time you did a task that allowed it, you were used to it. But someone in the palace wasn't, someone in the palace had never heard such a beautiful voice before. That someone was called Fyodor, he lived with the royal family as a teacher, given his knowledge was scarily vast. He rarely engaged with people unless necessary, he was quiet and kept to himself. So it was a surprise to see him leave his study in search of the source of that angelic voice. A servant that had been at the palace a long time noticed.
"I suppose miracles do happen! I never thought I'd see you leave your cave without being forced!" the servant, namely Igor Pavlov, prompted. Fyodor barely registered him, still under the spell of your voice.
"Igor...this voice...whose is it?"
"Don't you know? It's the new princess consort's handmaid. She's been singing since the day they arrived, it's a miracle she hasn't lost her voice yet!"
"A handmaid you say...not a singer by trade?"
"just a handmaid! Though she must earn a pretty penny by working for the princess, she's better off as a servant, if you want my opinion!" Fyodor didn't hear the last part of what Igor had said, still entranced by your voice. He started following it, until he reached the closed door of the princess's quarters. Right at that moment your singing stopped, at your lady's request. The "curse" was lifted from Fyodor.
"How... foolish... What am I doing..." he muttered, trying to shake away the remnants of his stupor, and went back to his study.
From that day forward whenever he'd hear you sing, he'd crack his study's door open, to hear you more clearly. He would brew more tea than necessary and leave it in the servants' kitchen, hoping you'd find it and drink it, to keep your throat healthy. Every time he didn't hear you for more than a day he was afraid you had gotten a cold, he'd say an extra prayer for you on those nights. He couldn't help but want to hear your voice closer to himself, not just from behind the closed doors of the princess's quarters. He kept imagining what you could look like, maybe you were truly a siren like your voice led to believe, with captivating eyes that could send entire vessels to ruin... He tried shaking those thoughts away as quickly as possible, but it was a futile endeavor when he heard you sing. He'd sit by the door, listening with his eyes closed... And he wondered, how on earth did he bear to live in that palace before your arrival?
Then one faithful day, the princess was walking in the gardens, with you in tow. She asked you to sing. And he heard you, of course he did. He went out to the gardens, he wanted to hear your singing up close once, just once in his life. He kept his distance of course, but god, you sounded so beautiful, so divine. And then...he saw you. You were no siren, your beauty was more innocent, modest, but beautiful nonetheless. He felt himself fall even deeper for you. He was entranced once more, following behind you... until the princess noticed.
"Ah Dostoevsky! I haven't seen you in a while, what brings you to the gardens?" she asked.
"Just...stepped out for some air...the weather is lovely" he quickly made up an excuse.
"It is indeed. Say, I've been meaning to ask you, do you have any spare time lately?"
"Spare time for... Teaching?"
"Yes. Y/N, this is a teacher that lives in the palace, would you like for him to provide you an education?" She asked you.
"I would be honoured" you bowed at meeting Fyodor for the first time. You couldn't deny he looked fascinating, with his raven hair, and purple eyes.
Fyodor swallowed hearing that. Time with you...was he dreaming?
"I do have a couple spare hours on Mondays and Wednesdays. If it's alright with you, your highness?" He offered after clearing his throat.
"It's quite alright. Two hours on each occasion, I want her knowledgeable about literature and current politics"
Fyodor frowned slightly. "Wouldn't an education in music and art fit her better, with a voice like hers?"
"She's 16, she won't become an opera singer! Besides her singing is beautiful enough as is, I don't need her playing another instrument, I need her to be able to do her tasks first and foremost. Knowing the politics will be useful, so I don't feel like I'm talking to a wall every time I mention the other nobles!" She complained. "Literature for refinement of her speech and politics to help advise me. That will be enough"
"As your majesty requests" Fyodor agreed reluctantly before taking his leave. Then it hit him, one of the things the princess had mentioned. You were just 16 years of age. Dammit... You were young, too young for him. He might've looked young but he had lived centuries in secret. He shouldn't dream of you and your voice at night. He really shouldn't.
When the classes started with you he tried his best to keep his composure and not be entranced by your looks alone. He tried staring at the books and not at your face while he explained the complexities of politics and the depths of poetry to you. But whenever he'd read you a poem of love, he couldn't help but sigh, because poets centuries before your birth had managed to perfectly describe the kind of otherworldly beauty you had in his eyes. Sometimes he'd ask about your past, you told him of your childhood in the village and your early adolescence in Yekaterinburg.
"Your singing...where did you learn?" He asked one day.
"I just sang what my parents did while they worked"
"And did no one tell you in your village you had talent?"
"Talent? Well, they told me I sang well..."
"And do you like singing?"
"I... love singing" you smiled shyly. Fyodor slammed the book filled with Shakespearean poems closed, and pulled a codex of songs off a shelf.
"Then let me teach you some new songs...and maybe some techniques."
***
The princess asked where you had learned the new songs you were singing as you brushed her hair, you said you overhead other servants singing them. Fyodor made you swear you wouldn't tell the princess he was teaching you things she had not requested. You obliged with a smile, always a smile when it came to him. He taught you new melodies in between talks of current politics, he would always make the tea with extra honey when he knew you were coming. You had fallen for him too, for his gentleness, his knowledge, his kindness in teaching you about art and music, not just politics, and how he would read you books and poems he knew you'd like. You started reciting love poems back to him, hoping he'd understand...he pretended not to, for a long time. Until one day you asked him. "Does your heart already belong to a maiden?"
"No...it doesn't." He replied.
"Then...why do you not see, I like..." He cut you off.
"You're too young." He said, although that was only part of the reason he couldn't act on his feelings.
"But you're only what, 24? 25?" You asked innocently. Oh, if only you'd known his secret.
"...too young." He repeated harshly. You tried being understanding, tried to suppress your feelings, as you diligently followed his lessons. You only spent four hours together every week, but to both of you, they were everything. When you turned twenty-one, and he was still teaching you, you tried confessing your feelings once more, but he cut you off again. "My lady, you cannot be with me..." He said through gritted teeth.
"Why not? I'm an adult now and my feelings... they have not faded, they've only grown..."
"...it wouldn't be right for us to be together"
"Why not?
"Because!" His voice was harsher than intended, he took a second to compose himself. "Because... I'm a cursed man..." He admitted quietly.
"Cursed? But you... you're healthy, and intelligent, you have no curses..."
His body became rigid. He pulled you close by your shoulders. "promise me, swear it, that I'm the only man that has my eye on you, and I'm the only man you fancy"
"I swear it, both of those things"
He took a deep breath and pulled you even closer. "I love you, Y/N... I really do... I love your voice, your singing, and the way your eyes light up when I read you a story you like...but I was cursed...I was cursed with a long life" he whispered with a chocked voice.
"That's a curse...? Not a blessing?"
He let out a somber laugh. "Everyone I ever told, which were quite few, thinks that... But I've lived more life than you ever will, and I'll still be here when you'll be gone..." He paused for a moment. "How will I survive the grief I do not know...And you, you deserve better than tying yourself to a cursed man." His voice was tinged with pain. You knew he was being sincere. You stepped closer and held him, god it felt so nice to hold him, and gently whispered in his ear. "You're a blessing to me, not a curse..." His hold on you tightened hearing that. "I'm no blessing, you are... you have the voice of an angel, the smile of a princess, the heart of a saint, I do not deserve such goodness in my life..." His purple eyes looked like their glow had dimmed, softened when he looked at you, after years you still had that effect on him.
"You're the only one who didn't compliment my voice alone..." You whispered. "And the only one who looked out for me truly, the only one who thought about what I would like to learn, not just what I needed, and the only one who I ever felt truly enjoyed my company" you confessed oh so softly, so sincerely, every wall of restraint Fyodor might've had left crumbled.
"Whoever doesn't enjoy your company is a fool" he whispered. You stared at each other a long time, before he gave in finally, and kissed your forehead gently.
"моя любимая" (my beloved) he whispered.
From that day on, instead of spending those weekly four hours studying, you'd spend at least half of them holding each other, curled up on his bed. He loved you, so deeply, now that you hadn't rejected him after knowing about his curse he could admit that to himself. But this way another issue had arisen: you were a handmaid, he was a teacher. Your teacher. The princess wouldn't take kindly to discovering your closeness. So those hugs and cuddles were all he allowed himself. Sometimes you'd sing songs you only learned for him, and when you did, god, he felt like he was in heaven. He wanted to kiss you so badly every time you hummed into his chest, but he was afraid if he did, he wouldn't be able to hold back anymore. So you just cherished the closeness whenever you could, pretending it was enough.
***
Eventually the princess found out. She noticed after your lessons, the scent of your teacher was surprisingly strong around you, more than usual. She eavesdropped on one of your lessons, and burst into the room when she had heard you start to sing. She found you two cuddled up together, the notes froze in your throat, you looked terrified at being found out. Fyodor on the other hand looked resigned, as if he knew this day would come eventually. What ensued was the yelling of the princess and pleading on your part, Fyodor stood up and said: "I take full responsibility for disobeying your highness's orders, let all repercussions fall on me" but the princess couldn't be convinced.
"You're employed by the tsar, I have no power to punish you! You, Y/N, on the other hand, you are employed by me, and for disobeying me, and even worse, keeping secrets from me, I'm terminating your contract and you're to go back home to your parents!"
You started crying asking for forgiveness, just one more chance, but the princess wouldn't hear it.
"If she leaves the palace, I'm leaving too out of my own volition" Fyodor said sternly.
"Am I supposed to care? When I get a new handmaid the last thing she will be is being educated by you!" The princess retorted. "Y/N, pack your bags. You leave in the morning, be grateful I'm kind enough to arrange you a ride"
She left the room enraged. You were still crying, Fyodor knelt next to you.
"Forgive me, my love, it's my fault" he said quietly, his eyes held so much pain. You simply shook your head.
"I'm not sad because I lost my job, I'm crying because I won't see you anymore" you sobbed. He held you close at that. "No...no... don't cry for me, my heart is yours anyway, in all my years of life, you're the only one who managed to see it, you conquered it, and now...it rests in your palm, everyday, since the day I first heard you sing, my heart will never belong to me again. I'll find a way, I'll leave with you if I must, but I'm not leaving you on your own" you calmed down at his words, your cries becoming soft whimpers. You kissed him, for the first time since meeting him, you felt you deserved it, if you were leaving the next day anyway. He felt the same way, for he melted into your lips immediately, and when you both ran out of air, he pressed his forehead to yours, his hands came up to cradle the back of your head. "Go pack your bags... By the time you must leave I will have found a way" he said reassuringly. You couldn't help but trust him. After you left his study he got to work immediately, there was plenty of sorting out to do.
***
The palace was quite, only the servants whose job was stoking the fire were up this early in the morning. A letter rested on Fyodor's desk, one he had entrusted the veteran servant Igor to deliver to the tsar sometime during the following week. It read as follows: "To His Imperial Majesty: I regret to not have informed you sooner, but I have to absent myself from the palace and my educational duties for the following month, due to circumstances that were outside of my control, there are matters I must turn my attention to immediately. With Regards: Fyodor Dostoevsky".
You had just finished loading your suitcase on the carriage, you were about to climb in it, when a voice stopped you.
"Y/N!" It was a voice you could never mistake to be someone else's.
"Fyodor?" You looked back immediately, and sure enough, the man you loved so sincerely was standing in the shadow of the night, his purple eyes glimmered in the moonlight. You had left each other only a couple hours ago, and yet it was like he was seeing you for the first time all over again. You were in your traveling clothes, he had only ever seen you in your work uniform before. It wasn't a fancy outfit, and yet, you looked as beautiful as ever to him.
"моя любимая, get in, we're traveling together" he urged you. Saying you were shocked by his words would be an understatement. "What? What do you mean?"
"Worry not, the coachman is aware, I'll explain everything while we travel" He helped you to sit inside the carriage and he settled next to you in the small space. The horses began galloping, and soon you left the palace's premises. Fyodor began explaining how he had paid off the coachman to allow him to travel with you in secret, and how he set up Igor to deliver his letter about his leave a few days late, so it would raise less suspicion. The only luck they needed was for the princess to keep her mouth shut about the reason of your firing.
"And you figured this all out in a night's time?" You asked, surprised at how clearly he seemed to have thought of everything.
"It took me less than an hour, really. I just needed to get my belongings in order. And I needed to find this" He pulled out a bracelet from his pocket. It was golden, with gemstones decorating its whole surface, it sparkled even in the faint moonlight that peered inside the carriage.
"It's so beautiful...! Where did you find this?" You inquired, in awe of the jewel's beauty.
"I got it as a prize after winning a cards game many decades ago. My opponent thought I was crazy for gambling all my belongings for a single bracelet, but I was quite confident I would've left victorious." He smirked at the memory. "I know a ring or a flower would be more customary in such a situation, but perhaps, for now, this can suffice" he handed you the bracelet. You felt tears in your eyes, having a feeling where this was going.
"I can't accept such a precious jewel, I'm just a handmaid!" you exclaimed.
"You're not anymore, and I don't want you to be that again. Instead, please, I'd like you to become my wife" he asked with a voice so soft you barely heard it. That last sentence did the trick, and you burst into tears.
"You didn't need to offer me jewels to ask me that! You should've known my answer would've always been yes!" You buried your face in his shoulder, he wrapped his arms around your shaking body.
"I did not want to assume, and you deserve all the jewels in the world anyway" He smiled softly as he stroked your hair. He slipped the bracelet on your wrist, you swore in that moment you'd never remove it.
It was almost night time again by the time you reached your village. You got out of the carriage and grabbed your belongings. The coachman left for the nearest town to find an inn to stay in, Fyodor was carrying your bags as he followed you to your house. Your mother saw you arriving from the kitchen window, she immediately dropped what she was doing and ran out to hug you.
"My darling daughter! What happened to you? We did not see you for so long!" she called your father, they were both overjoyed to see you, hugging you and asking you questions. They were so absorbed in the joy of the unexpected reunion that they didn't even notice Fyodor for a while.
"And who might this be?" Asked your mother when she eventually registered his presence. Fyodor stepped forward and politely bowed.
"My name is Fyodor Dostoevsky. I'm a teacher, I work in the same palace as your daughter. We came to visit, because I would like to marry her" he explained quite bluntly, as was normal for him. Your parents nearly fainted. They sent you to Saint Petersburg to work and you return with a could-be husband?
Your parents spent the whole night talking with Fyodor, to get to know this could-be son-in-law that appeared out of nowhere. He pretended to be in his mid-twenties, because that's what he looked like, and explained how he had been in the tsar's service for many years due to his good memory and intelligence, and made up a story about coming from a wealthy enough family to begin with to justify his wealth, which a teacher so "young" could never amass all on his own. When your parents brought up the issue of your dowry being extremely limited, Fyodor politely shook his head. "I need no dowry from your family, I will set it up myself, I just wish to live in her company the rest of my life" he explained. His gaze was soft, but with a hint of melancholy at the thought it wouldn't be his entire life in reality, not even close, but still, the next several decades, he wanted them to be with you. Your parents saw how calm you looked in his presence, how content. Of course, they gave their blessing, and you got married in a small ceremony a week later. The next month was the happiest you had ever been in your entire life, you were together openly, you could kiss and hug whenever, sleep besides each other. The beauty of your singing was amplified by your joy, as you spent your days in the peaceful countryside, Fyodor truly believed he had found heaven on Earth.
A month after your wedding, as Fyodor had planned, he had both of you return to the palace. The tsar was not displeased with his absence, he was such a good teacher after all, it would've been foolish to punish him for such a thing as leaving the palace without prior permission. And surprisingly, he didn't mind he had returned with a wife.
Who minded was that princess you had served, she was fuming the second she saw you walking next to Fyodor, with that stupidly happy smile on your face. To see the maid she fired come back to the palace with a higher status than before irritated her, but there was nothing she could do.
You lived with Fyodor in his quarters, you tried helping with his researches at first, but the material he was studying was much too advanced for you. Instead you started learning to play different instruments, making up short melodies you hummed along too, to keep him company as he worked. Your favourite instrument became a cello that had been abandoned in one of the basements a long time, its deep and gentle notes calmly resonated through the room as your husband studied. You never knew just how much he appreciated your music.
At night, you would go to bed at the same time, but he stayed awake much longer than you. As he held you close, his mind was restlessly thinking about his research. He was trying to figure out the reason why he could never die. He studied texts ordered from western Europe, where some societies were talking about so called "abilities". He found that too positive a definition. His ability was a curse. He had to see the world change so often, and people he cared about wither away. And if someone killed him, he'd reincarnate in their body, the body of the person who took his life. Though you didn't know about this, he had only told you he had a much longer lifespan than was normal. At this point, his conclusion was that abilities were a divine punishment, a trial of sorts, that needed to be passed in life. He needed to get rid of his ability somehow.
He sighed loudly. Why was he wracking his brain on this, when you were in his arms, he needed to enjoy his time with you, as he knew all too well was limited. He shifted so you were closer in his arms, and pressed his cheek to the top of your head. He closed his eyes, and whispered. "моя любимая, like I promised to not leave you on your own all those months ago, now I promise you will never leave me on my own either. Even when you inevitably leave this world, the idea of you will follow me, your voice will ring in my ears, and I'll see your face in every corner of this world. And always, everyday, I will love you, even when I can no longer hold you..."