After several days of pure romance in Moscow, Arthur Lionheart and Victoria's "Russian honeymoon" was finally drawing to a close.
When they returned by carriage to the naval port of Kronstadt in Saint Petersburg, the farewell scene was even grander than their initial welcome. The Tsar Nicholas I, accompanied by the entire royal family and his most powerful ministers, awaited them at the pier.
This time, however, Nicholas's gaze toward Arthur was entirely different. Gone was the scrutiny, the arrogance, the subtle hostility. In its place was a complex blend of calculated intimacy, reverential fear, and political respect.
"My dear Arthur!" Nicholas exclaimed, enveloping him in an enormous bear hug. "Leaving so soon? I had planned to take you to Siberia for a proper tiger hunt!"
"Thank you for your kindness, Your Majesty," Arthur replied, maintaining a polite smile despite the pressure. "However, Your Majesty's 'holiday' has concluded. London awaits with matters that cannot be delayed."
"Alas, what a pity!" Nicholas said, with a look of sincere regret that was as much political as emotional.
After the formal farewells, heavy with rhetoric and diplomacy, Arthur and Victoria were finally granted a private moment to say their personal goodbyes.
Queen Alexandra embraced Victoria warmly, presenting her with a priceless Fabergé egg, crafted by the finest royal artisans. The young heir, Prince Alexander, offered a formal tribute and wished them a safe journey.
Just when it seemed the ceremony was over, a delicate figure emerged from the crowd. Princess Olga, as lovely and fragile as a white rose, hesitated before finding the courage to step forward. Blushing slightly, she handed Victoria a hand warmer made of the softest Siberian sable, crafted by her own hands.
"Your Majesty," she said with a graceful bow, "I know London winters are harsh. This is… a small token of my gratitude. I hope it can bring a touch of warmth from Russia."
Victoria, touched by the innocent affection, smiled and embraced her.
Yet Olga did not stop there. She drew forth another box, heavier and wrapped in dark blue velvet, and addressed Arthur Lionheart directly. Her emerald-green eyes shone with pure, childlike admiration.
"Your Highness, Prince Lionheart," she said with a firmer tone, "I've heard my father and brother speak of your skills: not only a brilliant inventor but an invincible general. They say you can shoot a hare in the eye from two meters, and that the sword you wield has tasted the blood of traitors to the empire."
Arthur Lionheart could not help but be both amused and intrigued. The gift she held was no ordinary diplomatic token—it was a Shashka, a traditional Cossack saber forged from the finest Ural steel, sharpened over a thousand times.
"This gift is worthy of a hero such as yourself," Olga continued, her cheeks flushed, lowering her voice:
"I… I hope it can take my place and accompany you, to protect you in the days ahead."
Arthur Lionheart, struck by the sincerity of her admiration, accepted the saber with a bow:
"Thank you, my esteemed princess. This is the most special—and moving—gift I have ever received."
Olga's smile was pure, like the first snow melting in Siberia, as the Promise to the Sea of Stars from the Royal Princess of England series slowly departed the Kronstadt naval port, heading toward London.
In the captain's cabin, alone, Arthur examined the saber. Its blade gleamed a sanguine light under the cabin lamps, the intricate designs on the guard whispering stories of battles and glory.
"It seems our Prince has had a very fruitful trip to Saint Petersburg," Victoria said from behind, a hint of teasing in her voice. "Not only did you finalize a secret deal that gave the Prime Minister a headache, but you also… captured the heart of an imperial princess?"
Arthur Lionheart turned, trying to appear innocent:
"My dear, that admiration is purely friendship."
Victoria arched a perfect eyebrow, playful and slightly mischievous:
"Really? So pure that she would even offer you her… 'perfume' to accompany you?"
Before she could react further, Arthur lifted her into his arms and strode toward the bedroom, his face fierce as he whispered:
"What are you doing? It seems I have been too gentle with you lately, which is why you have time to think about these messy things! To punish you for those 'outrageous' thoughts!"
Victoria's protests dissolved behind the closed door, leaving only laughter, gasps, and faint pleas for mercy mingling in the warm, intimate cabin.