#narva castle

[vattenlilja]

Two castles by the Narva River

Narva castle on the left side of the picture and Ivangorod on the right side. Narva river is behind the trees. A glimpse of the bridge crossing the river between the fortresses. A few years ago I discovered that an ancestor was a swedish military stationed in Narva during the swedish rule of parts of the baltic states. He was married to a woman born in Livonia, probably in Marienburg (nowadays…

[kristo-flowers]

Castles of Narva and Ivangorod. On the border between Estonia and Russia

[mariacallous]

Content warning: This article contains a scene including a graphic sexual assault.

My friend sets aside his cocktail, its foamy top sprinkled with cinnamon in the shape of a hammer and sickle, to process his disbelief at what I’ve just told him. “You want to return to Russia?” he asks.

I met Enrico when I arrived in Stockholm eight months ago. He understands my situation as well as anyone. He knows that I fled Moscow three days after Russia invaded Ukraine; that my name, along with the names of other journalists who left, has fallen into the hands of pro-Kremlin activists who have compiled a public list of “traitors to the motherland”; that some of the publications where I’ve worked have been labeled “undesirable organizations”; that a summons from the military enlistment office is waiting for me at home; that since Vladimir Putin expanded the law banning “gay propaganda,” I could be fined up to $5,000 merely for going on a date. In short, Enrico knows what may await if I return: fear, violence, harm.

He wants me to explain why I would go back, but I can’t think of an answer he’d understand or accept. Plus, I’m distracted by the TV screens in the bar. They’re playing a video on loop—a crowd in January 1990 waiting to get into the first McDonald’s to open in Russia. The people are in fluffy beaver fur hats, and their voices speak a language that, for the past year, I’ve heard only inside my head. “Why am I here?” a woman in the video says in Russian. “Because we are all hungry, you could say.” As the doors to McDonald’s open and the line starts to move, I no longer hear everything Enrico is saying (“You could live with me rent-free …” “You could go to Albania. It’s cheaper than in Scandinavia ...” “We could get married so you can live and work here legally …”).

Part of me had planned this meeting in hopes that Enrico would persuade me to change my mind—and he did try. But I’ve already bought the nonrefundable plane tickets, which are saved on my phone, ready to go.

A week later, I spend a night erasing the past year from my life—a year of running through Europe as if through a maze. I clear my chats in Telegram and unsubscribe from channels that cover the war. I wipe my browser history, delete my VPN apps, remove the rainbow strap on my watch, and tear the Ukrainian flag sticker from my jacket. The next day—March 29, 2023—I fly to Tallinn, Estonia, and ride a half-empty bus through a deep forest to the Russian border. The checkpoint sits at a bridge over the Narva River, between two late-medieval castles. German shepherds keep watch, and an armed soldier patrols the river by boat.

“What were you doing in the European Union?” the Russian guard asks.

“I was on vacation,” I say.

“You were on vacation for more than a year?” she asks.

I reply that I have been very tired. She stamps my passport and the bus moves on.

What I didn’t tell the guard, and what I couldn’t tell Enrico, is that I’m tired of hiding from my country—and that I want to trade one form of hiding for another. I have conducted my adult life as if censorship and propaganda were my natural enemies, but now some broken part of me is homesick for that world. I want to be deceived, to forget that there is a war going on.

“Start from the beginning,” my mother would say when I couldn’t figure out a homework problem. “Just start all over again.”

I woke up on February 24, 2022, to a message from a friend that read: “The war has begun.” At the time, I was an editor at GQ Russia, gathering material for our next issue on Russian expats who had moved back home during the pandemic. I was also editing a YouTube series called Queerography. For a blissful moment, I took my friend’s text for a joke. Then I saw videos from Ukrainian towns under bombardment. Russian forces had encircled most of the country. My boyfriend was still asleep. I wished I could be in his place.

A few months earlier, American intelligence had informed Ukraine and other countries in Europe of a possible offensive. But Russia’s foreign minister, Sergey Lavrov, had responded: “This is all propaganda, fake news and fiction.” While I didn’t necessarily believe the truth of Lavrov’s words, I doubted the regime could afford to tell a lie so big. Vladimir Putin’s approval rating was near its lowest point since he gained power. On the eve of the attack on Ukraine, only 3 percent of my fellow citizens thought the war was “inevitable.”

After the invasion, I spent three days in silence. I couldn’t sleep, and I had no appetite. My hands trembled so badly that I couldn’t hold a glass of water still. When I visited friends, we’d sit in different corners of the room scrolling through the news, occasionally breaking the silence with “This is fucked up.”

In Moscow, armed police patrolled the streets to deter protesters. Soon, the press reported that a man was arrested in a shopping mall for an “unsanctioned rally” because he was wearing blue and yellow sneakers, the colors of the Ukrainian flag. News media websites were blocked in accordance with the new law on “fake news” about Ukraine. People stood in line to empty the ATMs. “War” and “peace”—two words that form the title of Russia’s most celebrated novel—were now forbidden to be pronounced in public. Instagram was filled with black squares, uncaptioned, seemingly the only form of protest that remained possible. The price of a plane ticket out of Russia soared from $100 to $3,000, in a country where the minimum wage was about $170 a month.

If I waited another day, it seemed, the Iron Curtain would descend and I would become a hostage of my own country. So on the morning of March 1, my boyfriend and I locked the door to our Moscow apartment for the last time and made for the airport. In my backpack were warm clothes, $500 in cash, and a computer. We were leaving for nowhere, not knowing which country we would wake up in the next day.

At the international airport in Yerevan, Armenia, flights arrived every hour from Russia and the United Arab Emirates, another route along which people fled. Once we were there, we boarded a minivan to Georgia, the only country in the South Caucasus with which Russia no longer maintained diplomatic ties. The van was packed with families and their pets. From one of the back seats, a girl asked her mother: “Mama, are we far away from the war now?” A night road through mountain passes and volcanic lakes took us to the border. I asked a guard there to share a mobile hot spot with me so I could get online and retrieve coronavirus test results in my email. “Of course,” he replied, “though you don’t deserve it.”

In Tbilisi, the alleys were lit up at night with blue and yellow. On the city’s main hotel hung a poster that read “Russian warship, go fuck yourself.” Fresh graffiti on walls around the city read: “Putin is a war criminal and murderer.”

At an acquaintance’s apartment, we shared a room with two other men who had fled. “The most important thing is that we’re safe,” we reassured each other if one of us began to cry. “I’m not a criminal,” said one of the guys. “Why should I have to run from my own country?” None of us had an answer.

In Russia I was now labeled a “traitor and fugitive.” The Committee for the Protection of National Interests, an organization associated with Putin’s United Russia party, had stolen a database containing the names of journalists who had left the country and distributed it on Telegram. Liberal journalists in Moscow had begun to find the words “Here lives a traitor to the Motherland” scrawled on their doors. One critic was sent a severed pig’s head.

My fellow fugitives and I started looking for somewhere more permanent to live, but most rental ads in Tbilisi stipulated “Russians not accepted.” We tried to open bank accounts, but when the bank employees saw our red passports they rejected our applications. Like so many other companies, Condé Nast—which publishes GQ and WIRED, among other magazines—pulled out of Russia. I was without a job. The YouTube show I edited closed down soon after, its founder declared a foreign agent and later added to the Register of Extremists and Terrorists. Foreign publications told me that all work with Russian journalists was temporarily suspended.

Soon signs began to appear outside bars and restaurants in Tbilisi saying that Russians were not welcome inside. I decided to sign in to Tinder to try to meet people in this new city, but most men I chatted with suggested that I go home and take Molotov cocktails to Red Square. I placed a Ukrainian flag sticker on my breast pocket and wandered the city in silence, ashamed of my language.

My boyfriend and I finally found a room in a former warehouse with no windows, the furniture covered in construction dust. The owner was an artist who was in urgent need of money. To pay the rent, I sold online all my belongings from the Moscow apartment: a vintage armchair from Czechoslovakia, an antique Moroccan rug, books dotted with notes, a record player given to me by the love of my life. Ikea had closed its stores in Russia, and customers wrote to me: “Your stuff is like a belated Christmas miracle.”

One day in mid-spring, I left the warehouse for an anti-war rally that was being held outside the Russian Federation Interests Section based in the Swiss Embassy. The motley throngs of people chanted “No to war!” In the crowd I glimpsed the familiar faces of journalists who had left Russia like me. “Why did you come here?” a stranger asked me in English. “To us, to Georgia. Do you really think your cries will change anything? You shouldn’t be protesting here. You should be outside the Kremlin.”

I wanted to tell him that I grew up in a country where a dictator came to power when I was 6 years old, a man who has his enemies killed. I wanted to say: One time, when I was an editor at Esquire, my boss denounced an author I worked with to Putin’s security service, the FSB, and the FSB sent agents to interrogate me, and when I warned the author, the FSB came for me again, threatening to arrest me and listing aloud the names of all my family members. I wanted to tell the stranger on that street in Tbilisi that I’d had to disappear for a while, and that when I felt brave enough, I had gone to protests and donated money to human rights organizations. That I had fought but, it seemed, had lost. That I just wanted to live the one life I’ve got a little bit longer. But at the time I couldn’t find the words.

A month later, the world saw images of mass graves in the Kyiv suburb of Bucha, dead limbs sticking out of the sand. Outside our building one morning, on an old brick wall that was previously empty, was a fresh message, the paint still wet: “Russians, go home.” My boyfriend went back to Russia so he could obtain a European visa, promising he would be back in a month, but he never returned.

I spent the rest of the year on the move: Cyprus, Estonia, Norway, France, Austria, Hungary, Sweden. I went where I had friends. The independent Russian media that I’d always consumed went into exile too, setting up operations where they could. TV Rain began broadcasting out of Amsterdam. Meduza moved its Russian branch to Europe. The newspaper Novaya Gazeta, cofounded by the Nobel Peace Prize laureate Dmitry Muratov, reopened in Latvia. Farida Rustamova, a former BBC Russia correspondent, fled and launched a Substack called Faridaily, where she began publishing information from Kremlin insiders. Journalists working for the independent news website Important Stories, which published names and photos of Russian soldiers involved in the murder of civilians in a Ukrainian village, went to Czechia. These, along with 247,000 other websites, were blocked at the behest of the Prosecutor General’s Office but remained accessible in Russia through VPNs.

“During the first days of the war, everything was in a fog,” says Ilya Krasilshchik, the former publisher of Meduza, who went on to found Help Desk, which combines news media and a help hotline for those impacted by war. “We felt it our duty to inform people of what the Russian army was doing in Ukraine, to document the hell that despair and powerlessness leave in their wake. But we also wanted to empathize with all of the people caught up in this meat grinder.” Taisiya Bekbulatova, a former special correspondent for Meduza and the founder of the news outlet Holod, tells me, “In nature you find parasites that can force their host to act in the parasite’s own interest, and propaganda, I believe, works in much the same way. That’s why we felt it was our duty to provide people with more information.”

I wanted to continue my work in journalism, but the publications that had fled Russia weren’t hiring. My application for a Latvian humanitarian visa as an independent journalist was rejected, and I didn’t have the means to pay the fees for US or UK talent visas.

The panic attacks began in the fall, during my first stay in Stockholm. Red spots, first appearing around my groin, started to take over my body, creeping up to my throat. I’d get sick, recover, and then wake up with a sore throat. In October, I learned that my boyfriend had married someone else. The next day, my mother called to tell me that a summons from the military enlistment office had arrived.

I was in Cyprus when, at 3 am one February morning, I woke to the sound of walls cracking and the metal legs of my bed knocking on marble. Fruit fell to the floor and turned to mush. The tremors of a magnitude-7.8 earthquake in Gaziantep, Turkey, had passed through the Mediterranean Sea and reached the island. I didn’t scramble out of bed. I hoped instead that I would be buried under the rubble—a choice made for me by fate. Later that month, my friends in Stockholm insisted that I come stay with them again. I wandered the streets on a clear winter day, buying up expired food in the stores. The blue and yellow flags of Sweden shone bright in the sun, but I saw in them the flag of another country. Back in the apartment, I slept all the time, and when I did wake I lulled myself with Valium. One day I felt the urge to swallow the whole bottle.

Frightened by my own thoughts, I felt how much I wanted to be back in Russia. In my mother country, all the tools of propaganda would keep painful truths at bay. “The news in Russia is only ever good news,” Zhanna Agalakova, a former anchor on state TV’s main news show, later told me. Agalakova quit after the invasion began and returned the awards she had received to Putin. “Even if people understand that they’re being brainwashed, in the end they give up, and propaganda calms them down. Because they simply have nowhere to run.”

Masha Borzunova, a journalist who fled Russia and runs her own YouTube channel, walked me through a typical day of Russian TV: “A person wakes up to a news broadcast that shows how the Russian military is making gains. Then Anti-Fake begins, where the presenters dismantle the fake news of Western propaganda and propagate their own fake news. Then there’s the talk show Time Will Tell that runs for four, sometimes five hours, where we’ll see Russian soldiers bravely advancing. Then comes Male and Female—before the war it was a program about social issues, and now they discuss things like how to divide the state compensation for funeral expenses between the mother of a dead soldier and his father who left the family several years ago. Then more news and a few more talk shows, in which a KGB combat psychic predicts Russia’s future and what will happen on the front. This is followed by the game show Field of Miracles, with prizes from the United Russia party or the Wagner Private Military Company. And then, of course, the evening news.”

I had gone from being infuriated by this kind of hypnosis to envying it. The free flow of information had become for me what a jug of water is to a severely dehydrated person: The right amount can save you, but too much can kill.

“Welcome to Russia,” the bus driver said as we crossed the border from Estonia. I was nearly home. There was no particular reason for me to return to Moscow, so I made for St. Petersburg, where some friends had an apartment that was empty. I used to look after it before the war, coming over to unwind and water the flowers. It was a place of peace.

All my friends had left Russia too, so I was the first person to set foot in the apartment in a year. Black specks covered every surface-—midges that had flown in before the war and died. I scrubbed the place through the first night, starting to cry like a child when I came across ordinary objects I remembered from peacetime: shower gel, a blender, a rabbit mask made out of cardboard. Over the next few weeks, I tried to return to the past as I remembered it. I went to the bakery in the morning. I exercised, read, wrote. At first glance, the city seemed unchanged. There were the same boatloads of tourists on the canals, tour groups on Palace Square, overcrowded bars in Dumskaya Street. But more and more, St. Petersburg began to feel to me like the backdrop of a period film: impeccably executed, the gap between the past and the present visible only in the details.

One day I heard loud noises outside my window, as if all the TVs in town had suddenly started emitting the sound of static. The next day the headline read: “Terrorist Suspected of Bombing St. Petersburg Café Detained and Giving Testimony.” The café had hosted an event honoring the pro-war military blogger Vladlen Tatarsky, and a bust of his likeness had blown up, killing him and injuring more than 30 people. But life went on as if nothing had happened. St. Petersburg was plastered with posters for an upcoming concert by Shaman, a singer who had become popular since the invasion thanks to his song “I’m Russian.” (He would later release “My Fight,” a song that seemingly alludes to Hitler’s Mein Kampf.) In a candy store I noticed a chocolate truffle with a portrait of Putin on the wrapper. “It’s filled with rum,” the clerk said.

Sometimes in checkout lines at the supermarket I glimpsed mercenaries in balaclavas, newly returned from or preparing to go to the front. On the escalator down to the subway, where classical music usually floated from the speakers, Rachmaninov’s Second Piano Concerto was interrupted by an announcement: “Attention! Male citizens, we invite you to sign a contract with the military!” In the train car, I saw a poster that read: “Serving Russia is a real job! Sign a military service contract and get a salary starting at 204,000 rubles per month”—about $2,000. One afternoon, as I stood on the platform next to a train bound for a city near the Georgian border, I overheard two men talking:

“I earned 50,000 in a month.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, bro. But I won’t go back to Ukraine again. It’s fucking terrifying.”

This was a rare admission. The horror of the war’s casualties—zinc coffins, once prosperous cities turned to ruins—were otherwise hidden behind the celebrations for City Day, the opening of the St. Petersburg International Economic Forum, and marathons held on downtown streets.

After a week or so in Russia, feeling very alone, I went on Tinder. One evening I invited a man I hadn’t met over to the apartment. I placed two cups of tea on a table, but when the man arrived he didn’t touch his. He threw me to the floor, unbuttoned his pants, and inserted his dry penis inside me. “I know you want it,” he whispered, covering my mouth. “I can tell from your asshole.”

I bit him and squirmed, trying to get him off me. After he left, my legs kicked frantically and I couldn’t breathe. I knew that the police wouldn’t help me. I contacted Tinder to tell them that I had been raped and sent them a screenshot of the man’s profile, but no one answered. That evening I bought a ticket for a night train to Moscow. More than ever, I wanted to see my mother.

“You must have frozen over there,” My mother said as she met me at the door to her apartment outside Moscow. Putin had said that, without Russian-supplied gas, “Europeans are stocking up on firewood for the winter like it’s the Middle Ages.” People were supposedly cutting down trees in parks for fuel and burning antique furniture. Some of the only warm places in European cities were so-called Russian houses, government-funded cultural exchanges where people could go escape the cold as part of a “From Russia with Warmth” campaign. When I told my mother that Sweden recycles waste and uses it to heat houses, she grimaced in disgust.

Thirteen months earlier, when I had left the country, my mother called to ask me why. I told her that I didn’t want to be sent to fight, that I couldn’t work in Russia anymore. “You’re panicking for no reason,” she said. “Why would the army need you? We’ll take Kyiv in a few days.” After the horrors in Bucha, I had sent her an interview with a Russian soldier who admitted to killing defenseless people. “It’s fake,” she responded. “Son, turn on the TV for once. Don’t you see that all those bodies are moving?” She was referring to optical distortions in a certain video, which Russian propagandists used to their advantage.

After that, we had agreed not to discuss my decision or views so that we could remain a family. Instead, we talked about my sister’s upcoming wedding, my aunt’s promotion at a Chinese cosmetics company whose products were replacing the brands that had quit the country. My uncle, a mechanic, had finally found a job that would get him out of debt—repairing military equipment in Russian-occupied territories. My mother was planning to take advantage of falling real estate prices to buy land and build a house. In their reality, the war was not a tragedy but an elevator.

I had arrived on Easter Sunday, and the whole family gathered at my mother’s house for the celebration. My aunt told me she was worried that I might be forced to change my gender in the West; she had heard that the Canadian government was paying people $75,000 to undergo gender-affirming surgery and hormonal therapy. My stepfather was interested in the availability of meat in Swedish stores. Someone asked whether it was dangerous to speak Russian abroad, whether Ukrainians had assaulted me. I kept quiet about the fact that the only person who had attacked me since the invasion was a Russian man, that the real threat was much closer than my family thought. The TVs in each of the three rooms of the apartment were all switched on: They played a church service, then a film called Century of the USSR. There were news broadcasts every two hours and the program Moscow. The Kremlin. Putin—a kind of reality show about the president.

“Do you know what this is?” my mother said as she placed a dusty bottle of wine without any labels in the middle of the festive table. “Your uncle gave it to us,” my stepfather chimed in. “He brought it from Ukraine.” A trophy from a bombed-out Ukrainian mansion near Melitopol, stolen by my uncle while Russian soldiers helped themselves to electronics and jewelry. “Let’s drink to God,” said my stepfather, raising his glass. “You can’t raise a glass to God,” my mother answered. “That’s not done.” “Let’s drink to our big family,” he said. The clinking of crystal filled the room; to my ears it sounded like cicadas.

Suddenly I felt sick and locked myself in the bathroom. I tried to vomit, but my stomach was empty, bringing up only a retch. “What’s wrong?” my mother asked, standing outside the door. “Drink some water, rest, sleep.” I tried to lie down. My skin began to itch. My friend Ilya Kolmanovsky, a science journalist, once told me: “Did you know that a person cannot tickle himself? Likewise you cannot deceive a mind that already knows the truth.” Self-deception is dangerous, he said: “Just as your immune system can attack your own body, your mind can also engage in destroying you day by day.”

That evening I left my mother’s apartment for St. Petersburg and made an appointment with a psychiatrist. I told the doctor that I felt like the past had been lost and I couldn’t find a place for myself in the present. She asked when my problems began. “During the war,” I answered, careful to keep my face expressionless. The psychiatrist noted my response in the medical history. “You’re not the only one,” she said. She diagnosed me with prolonged depression and severe anxiety and prescribed tranquilizers, an antipsychotic, and an anti-depressant. “There are problems with drugs from the West,” she said. Better to take the Russian-made ones. If the Western pills were like Fiat cars, then these would be the Russian analog, Zhigulis: “Both will bring you closer to calm, but the quality of the trip will differ.”

Though the drugs seemed to help, I began to realize over the next several weeks that no amount of pills could change this fact: The home I was looking for in Russia existed only in my memories. In June, I decided to emigrate once again. At the border in Ivangorod, spikes of barbed wire pierced the azure sky and smoke from burning fuel oil rose from the chimneys of the customs building. This time, as I left, I felt that I had no reason to return. My home was nowhere, but I would continue searching for one.

With financial help from a friend, I moved to Paris and signed a contract with a book agent. I made an effort not to read the news. Still, from time to time, I came across stories about Putin’s increasing popularity at home, how foreign nationals could obtain Russian citizenship for fighting in Ukraine, how the regime passed a law that would allow it to confiscate property from people who spread “falsehoods about the Russian army.” One day, when air defense systems shot down a combat drone less than 8 miles from my mother’s home, she called me and asked: “Why did you leave? Who else will protect me when the war comes to us? Who if not my son?” I didn’t have an answer. “I love you, Mama”—that was the only truth I could tell her.

[gokitetour]

6 best cities in Estonia for expats and talents

Estonia, a small but dynamic country in Northern Europe, offers several excellent cities for expats and talented professionals. Each city has its own unique features, making it an attractive destination for different lifestyles and career goals. Whether you are looking for a bustling urban environment, a cultural hotspot, or a peaceful retreat, Estonia’s cities have something to offer. Tallinn, the capital city, is a popular choice due to its vibrant tech scene and historic charm. It combines modern digital innovation with medieval architecture, providing a unique backdrop for both work and leisure. Tallinn's growing economy and high quality of life make it a prime location for professionals in various fields. Tartu, known for its prestigious university, is an academic hub that attracts students and researchers. The city’s youthful energy and intellectual environment offer great opportunities for those interested in academia and start-ups. It’s a city that values education and innovation, making it ideal for those in these sectors. Narva, located near the Russian border, presents a unique cultural experience and is becoming an increasingly important economic center. Its distinct history and growing infrastructure offer interesting prospects for those involved in cross-border trade and cultural projects. Pärnu, known for its beautiful beaches and relaxed lifestyle, is a favorite among those seeking a more laid-back environment. It’s perfect for families and individuals who want to enjoy a coastal lifestyle while still being close to essential amenities. Kohtla-Järve and Viljandi also provide unique opportunities, from industrial work to vibrant cultural scenes. Each city caters to different needs, making Estonia an appealing destination for a variety of expats and talents.

Here are some of the best cities in Estonia for expats and talents:

1. Tallinn, the capital city: Tallinn, Estonia's capital, is a bustling city that attracts a large number of expats and talented individuals. Its medieval Old Town is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, with picturesque streets, historic buildings, and a vibrant ambiance. Tallinn has a thriving tech economy and is well-known for its digital advancements, making it an ideal destination for tech workers. The city also offers a high standard of living, with great public services, international schools, and a wide range of cultural activities.

2. Tartu, the Academic Hub: Tartu is Estonia's second-largest city, known for its prominent university, the University of Tartu. Because of its huge student population, this city exudes youthfulness and intellectualism. Tartu provides a welcoming environment for foreigners, with a variety of cultural events, research possibilities, and a thriving start-up community. It's an excellent choice for people interested in academia or seeking a lively, educated environment.

3. Narva: The Cultural Gateway: Narva, located on the Russian border, is a unique city with a rich cultural legacy. It is famous for its medieval castle and picturesque river vistas. Narva has a thriving expat community, particularly those interested in cross-border trade and cultural exchange. The city is aiming to improve infrastructure and economic prospects, making it an appealing alternative for people seeking to be part of a growing community.

4. Pärnu, the resort city: Pärnu is Estonia's summer capital, known for its magnificent beaches and serene atmosphere. This location is great for expats who prefer a seaside lifestyle centered on leisure and wellness. Pärnu has a slower pace of life than Tallinn or Tartu, yet it nevertheless has good amenities such as international schools and health services. It's a popular choice among families and those looking for a more casual atmosphere.

5. Kohtla-Järve, The Industrial Hub: Kohtla-Järve is a significant industrial city in Estonia, particularly for its oil shale industry. It provides unique chances for experts in the industrial and engineering sectors. The city is rapidly developing and modernizing, attracting talented individuals who want to contribute to its success. Despite being less well-known for its tourist attractions, Kohtla-Järve has a thriving expat community and provides a variety of amenities.

6. Viljandi, the Cultural Gem: Viljandi is a tiny city with a vibrant cultural scene. It is known for its annual folk music festival and picturesque environs. This city is great for expats who enjoy a more relaxed lifestyle while still participating in cultural activities. Viljandi has a close-knit community and a high standard of living, making it an excellent choice for individuals who value a slower pace and cultural diversity.

Conclusion:

Estonia offers a range of cities that cater to expats and talented professionals, each with its own unique appeal. Tallinn, with its blend of modern technological advancements and historical charm, stands out as a top destination for those seeking a vibrant city life. Tartu, with its academic focus, provides an ideal environment for students and researchers, fostering a dynamic and intellectual community. Narva, with its rich cultural heritage and growing economic opportunities, offers a unique experience for those interested in cross-border trade and cultural exchange. Pärnu, known for its beautiful beaches and relaxed atmosphere, is perfect for those who prefer a more tranquil lifestyle while still having access to essential services and amenities. Kohtla-Järve and Viljandi offer distinctive opportunities in the industrial and cultural sectors, respectively. Kohtla-Järve attracts professionals in the industrial field with its growing economy, while Viljandi appeals to those who enjoy a slower pace of life with a strong cultural scene. For anyone considering a move to these cities, an Estonia visa is an essential step. The visa process is designed to facilitate smooth transitions for professionals, students, and families looking to experience what Estonia has to offer. With its diverse cities providing various opportunities and lifestyles, Estonia remains an attractive destination for those seeking a new place to live and work. Each city offers something different, ensuring that expats and talents can find a location that best suits their needs and aspirations.

[agarwalnavratan]

Estonia: Exploring the Enigmatic Beauty & A Comprehensive Guide!

Estonia is a beautiful jewel hiding in Northern Europe's Baltic region just waiting to be discovered. This wonderful nation offers a unique fusion of tradition and modernity that captivates the hearts of those who visit, from its rich history to breathtaking landscapes. We explore Estonia's culture, nature, architecture, and more in-depth in this thorough guide, demonstrating why it is a unique travel destination. The frozen lakes in Estonia's winter wonderland are perfect for ice fishing, ice skating, and skiing.

The attraction of Estonia extends beyond its natural beauty and includes the constantly shifting seasons, which give the nation a year-round spectrum of vibrant colors. The countryside is transformed into a flowery wonderland in the spring when cherry blossoms and wildflowers cover the landscape. The mellow glow of the midnight sun fills the summer months, drawing both locals and tourists to outdoor celebrations, performances, and leisurely strolls down the shore.

October presents a fantastic display as the leaves change to colors of gold and red, providing a gorgeous backdrop for leisurely treks and bike excursions. Then winter arrives, covering the landscape in a tranquil coating of snow.

Cultural Melting Pot: Estonia's Unique Influences

Due to its geographic location at the meeting point of the Nordic, Baltic, and Russian cultures, Estonia has absorbed a wide variety of cultural influences that have shaped its character. Because of the country's many traditions, dialects, and customs, it has a unique cultural landscape. Estonia's eclectic heritage is evident everywhere, from the charming Swedish-built village of Haapsalu to the Russian-inspired buildings of Narva.

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Connecting with Nature: Estonia's National Park

With a vast network of national parks and nature reserves, Estonia has demonstrated its dedication to protecting its natural beauty. Each park offers a distinct habitat and the opportunity to see local wildlife. Visitors can get in touch with nature in its most unadulterated state in these protected regions, which range from the enigmatic marshes of Matsalu National Park, a shelter for migratory birds, to the ancient forests of Karula National Park, where lynxes and bears roam.

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Delving into Tellinn: A Medieval Marvel

The capital city of Tallinn is a living example of Estonia's long tradition. Visitors are transported to the Middle Ages by the city's charming Old Town, a UNESCO World Heritage site. Well-preserved structures are surrounded by cobbled lanes that invite investigation of medieval churches, merchant homes, and lovely courtyards. On top of a limestone hill, the Toompea Castle offers sweeping views of the city and its magnificent structures.

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Beyond the Ordinary: Quirky Estonian Traditions

Additionally, Estonia is renowned for its distinctive traditions, which may appear odd to outsiders. In Estonian tradition, families frequently have their own sauna at home because of the country's strong affinity for them. In Estonia's struggle for freedom from Soviet control, the act of "singing revolutions" was crucial. A prominent occasion that honors national identity through choral singing is the "Laulupidu," or Song Festival.

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The Warmth of Estonian Hospitality-Welcome Visitors with Open Arms

The people of Estonia are known for their generous hospitality and sincere friendliness. When dining at a traditional pub or conversing with artisans at regional craft markets, visitors frequently find themselves welcomed by the locals' friendliness. This friendliness extends to Estonia's thriving street art movement, where murals reflect regional and worldwide topics and enhance the cityscapes with art.

Discover the Unmissable Places to Visit in Estonia

A hidden jewel just waiting to be discovered is Estonia, a nation nestled away in Northern Europe's Baltic region. Estonia provides a wide range of enthralling tourist locations thanks to its fascinating history, beautiful scenery, and dynamic culture. We'll explore some of the must-see locations that should be on every traveler's itinerary when they visit this enchanted country in this guide:

You may also read: Estonia- A Gem of the Baltic Region

Tallinn: A Timeless Capital

Tallinn, the capital city of Estonia, is a must-see destination because it so expertly combines medieval allure and modern dynamism. Tallinn's Old Town is a treasure trove of cobblestone alleys, old structures, and lovely squares and is a UNESCO World Heritage site. Take in the panoramic views from the Kohtuotsa viewing platform, wander through the Town Hall Square, and explore the famous Toompea Castle. You will be captivated by the city's combination of history, culture, and modern flare.

Parnu: The Resort Town

Parnu is a must-visit location for everyone looking for peace and tranquility along the seashore. It dubbed the "Summer Capital" of Estonia, is home to magnificent sandy beaches, tranquil spa facilities, and a thriving arts community. Enjoy restorative mud baths, relaxing strolls along the beach promenade, and the town's exciting festivals and activities. Parnu offers a tranquil retreat that revitalizes the body and mind.

Lahemaa National Park: Nature's Haven

Lahemaa National Park is a haven for those who love the outdoors. This uninhabited environment is a patchwork of majestic lakes, towering trees, and tranquil beaches. Discover secret waterfalls while hiking on well-marked routes, and keep a lookout for the variety of species that makes the park its home. The Viru Bog offers a distinctive experience as you wander through a mysterious environment of peat bogs and untainted nature thanks to its wooden boardwalks.

Saaremaa: Island Charm

The largest island in Estonia, Saaremaa, originates an appealing charm. Windmills, thatched-roof houses, and old churches dot the island, giving it a picturesque rural atmosphere. The island's ancient palace, which is located at Kuressaare, adds to its allure. Discover the calming beauty of Saaremaa's scenery, indulge in regional specialties, and take pleasure in the peace and quiet of island life.

Tartu: Estonia's University Town

The second-largest city in Estonia, Tartu, is a thriving center for culture and education. It is the location of the esteemed University of Tartu, which has significantly influenced the intellectual landscape of the nation. Visit the University's Botanical Gardens, stroll through the Old Town's lovely streets, and take in the vibrant local arts scene. Don't overlook the famous "Kissing Students" fountain, a representation of wisdom and youth.

Haapsalu: A Spa Town with a Twist

Travelers can have an unforgettable time in Haapsalu, which is renowned for its historic charm and medicinal mud baths. The town's architecture is a tribute to its illustrious past as a favorite summer retreat for Russian nobles. Explore the enticing train station, take in the expansive views from the Episcopal Castle, and unwind in one of the healing mud baths. The atmosphere in Haapsalu is a mix of imagination, remembrance, and rejuvenation.

Rakvere: Castle Adventures

Rakvere, a town whose ancient palace surrounds it, will appeal to history buffs. The Rakvere Castle is a living museum with interactive exhibits and historical reenactments, not just a monument. Visitors can practice archery, watch knightly competitions and even participate in historical festivities. A fascinating look into Estonia's past is offered by Rakvere's castle adventures.

Conclusion

The charm of Estonia goes far beyond these highlighted locations; every part of the nation has something special to offer. They welcomes visitors with open arms and offers a journey of discovery and enchantment, from its medieval towns to its unspoiled countryside. Estonia is a country with countless opportunities, whether you're fascinated by history, pulled by the beauty of nature, or seeking a cultural immersion.

They welcomes you to set out on a journey of exploration, from the medieval alleyways of Tallinn to the island beauty of Saaremaa, from the serene shores of Parnu to the rich history of Rakvere Castle. Estonia has attractions to suit a variety of interests, whether you're a history buff, a nature lover, an art enthusiast, or just looking to unwind.

As you prepare for your next adventure, take Estonia's attraction through account. Accept the charm that exists inside its historic villages, beautiful wilderness, and thriving urban centers. Estonia guarantees an amazing trip that will leave you with priceless memories, whether you're a solitary traveler, a couple looking for romance, or a family looking for new horizons.

FAQs (Frequently Asked Questions)

For what is Estonia renowned? The distinctive fusion of antique allure and contemporary innovation characterizes Estonia. It has unspoiled natural landscapes, well-preserved ancient cities, and a highly technological society.

Does Estonia speak English? Yes, English is widely spoken in Estonia, particularly among young people and in urban areas. The language of choice for many signage, menus, and services is English.

What places in Estonia should you not miss? The Old Town of Tallinn, the Lahemaa National Park, the island of Saaremaa, the sandy beaches of Parnu, and the famed Rakvere Castle are just a few of the must-see locations in Estonia.

The ideal time to visit Estonia is when? Depending on your preferences, there is no ideal time to visit Estonia. The summers are warm and vivacious, ideal for outdoor events and festivals. While winter is best for winter activities and holiday markets, autumn brings colorful foliage.

What foods are traditional in Estonia? Traditional Estonian fare includes items like black bread, herring, potatoes, and pork. A distinctive Estonian delicacy is a mixture of grains called kama. Modern Estonian cuisine also uses fresh, in-season ingredients.

What festivities are distinctive to Estonia? Unusual festivals are indeed held in Estonia. Laulupidu, or the Song Festival, honors Estonian choral music and national identity. The Tallinn Christmas Market spreads holiday pleasure while the Viljandi Folk Music Festival highlights traditional music.

Is Estonia a secure place to visit? Estonia is regarded as a secure destination. The nation's infrastructure and public transit networks are well-developed, and the crime rate is comparatively low.

[gorky-gorod]

#Estonians have responded to the creatives in #Ivangorod by placing a poster of #Putin on the wall of the Narva Castle, which says that he is a war criminal.

[brookstonalmanac]

Events 2.15

438 – Roman emperor Theodosius II publishes the law codex Codex Theodosianus. 590 – Khosrau II is crowned king of Persia. 706 – Byzantine emperor Justinian II has his predecessors Leontios and Tiberios III publicly executed in the Hippodrome of Constantinople. 1002 – At an assembly at Pavia of Lombard nobles, Arduin of Ivrea is restored to his domains and crowned King of Italy. 1113 – Pope Paschal II issues Pie Postulatio Voluntatis, recognizing the Order of Hospitallers. 1214 – During the Anglo-French War (1213–1214), an English invasion force led by John, King of England, lands at La Rochelle in France. 1493 – While on board the Niña, Christopher Columbus writes an open letter (widely distributed upon his return to Portugal) describing his discoveries and the unexpected items he came across in the New World. 1637 – Ferdinand III becomes Holy Roman Emperor. 1690 – Constantin Cantemir, Prince of Moldavia, and the Holy Roman Empire sign a secret treaty in Sibiu, stipulating that Moldavia would support the actions led by the House of Habsburg against the Ottoman Empire. 1764 – The city of St. Louis is established in Spanish Louisiana (now in Missouri, USA). 1798 – The Roman Republic is proclaimed after Louis-Alexandre Berthier, a general of Napoleon, had invaded the city of Rome five days earlier. 1835 – Serbia's Sretenje Constitution briefly comes into effect. 1862 – American Civil War: Confederates commanded by Brig. Gen. John B. Floyd attack General Ulysses S. Grant's Union forces besieging Fort Donelson in Tennessee. Unable to break the fort's encirclement, the Confederates surrender the following day. 1870 – Stevens Institute of Technology is founded in New Jersey, US, and offers the first Bachelor of Engineering degree in mechanical engineering. 1879 – Women's rights: US President Rutherford B. Hayes signs a bill allowing female attorneys to argue cases before the Supreme Court of the United States. 1898 – The battleship USS Maine explodes and sinks in Havana harbor in Cuba, killing about 274 of the ship's roughly 354 crew. The disaster pushes the United States to declare war on Spain. 1899 – Tsar Nicholas II of Russia issues a declaration known as the February Manifesto, which reduces the autonomy of the Grand Duchy of Finland, thus beginning the first period of oppression. 1909 – The Flores Theater fire in Acapulco, Mexico kills 250. 1923 – Greece becomes the last European country to adopt the Gregorian calendar. 1925 – The 1925 serum run to Nome: The second delivery of serum arrives in Nome, Alaska. 1933 – In Miami, Giuseppe Zangara attempts to assassinate US President-elect Franklin D. Roosevelt, but instead shoots Chicago mayor Anton J. Cermak, who dies of his wounds on March 6. 1942 – World War II: Fall of Singapore. Following an assault by Japanese forces, the British General Arthur Percival surrenders. About 80,000 Indian, United Kingdom and Australian soldiers become prisoners of war, the largest surrender of British-led military personnel in history. 1944 – World War II: The assault on Monte Cassino, Italy begins. 1944 – World War II: The Narva Offensive begins. 1945 – World War II: Third day of bombing in Dresden. 1946 – ENIAC, the first electronic general-purpose computer, is formally dedicated at the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia. 1949 – Gerald Lankester Harding and Roland de Vaux begin excavations at Cave 1 of the Qumran Caves, where they will eventually discover the first seven Dead Sea Scrolls. 1952 – King George VI of the United Kingdom is buried in St George's Chapel, Windsor Castle. 1954 – Canada and the United States agree to construct the Distant Early Warning Line, a system of radar stations in the far northern Arctic regions of Canada and Alaska. 1961 – Sabena Flight 548 crashes in Belgium, killing 73, including the entire United States figure skating team along with several of their coaches and family members. 1965 – A new red-and-white maple leaf design is adopted as the flag of Canada, replacing the old Canadian Red Ensign banner. 1971 – The decimalisation of the currencies of the United Kingdom and Ireland is completed on Decimal Day. 1972 – Sound recordings are granted U.S. federal copyright protection for the first time. 1972 – José María Velasco Ibarra, serving as President of Ecuador for the fifth time, is overthrown by the military for the fourth time. 1982 – The drilling rig Ocean Ranger sinks during a storm off the coast of Newfoundland, killing 84 workers. 1989 – Soviet–Afghan War: The Soviet Union officially announces that all of its troops have left Afghanistan. 1991 – The Visegrád Group, establishing cooperation to move toward free-market systems, is signed by the leaders of Czechoslovakia, Hungary and Poland. 1992 – Serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer is sentenced in Milwaukee to 15 terms of life in prison. 1992 – Air Transport International Flight 805 crashes in Swanton, Ohio, near Toledo Express Airport, killing all four people on board. 1996 – At the Xichang Satellite Launch Center in China, a Long March 3B rocket, carrying an Intelsat 708, veers off course and crashes into a rural village after liftoff, killing somewhere between six and 100 people. 1996 – The Embassy of the United States, Athens, is attacked by an antitank rocket, launched by the Revolutionary Organization 17 November. 2001 – The first draft of the complete human genome is published in Nature. 2003 – Protests against the Iraq war take place in over 600 cities worldwide. It is estimated that between eight million and 30 million people participate, making this the largest peace demonstration in history. 2010 – Two trains collide in the Halle train collision in Halle, Belgium, killing 19 and injuring 171 people. 2012 – Three hundred and sixty people die in a fire at a Honduran prison in the city of Comayagua. 2013 – A meteor explodes over Russia, injuring 1,500 people as a shock wave blows out windows and rocks buildings. This happens unexpectedly only hours before the expected closest ever approach of the larger and unrelated asteroid 2012 DA14. 2021 – Sixty people drown and hundreds are missing after a boat sinks on the Congo River near the village of Longola Ekoti, Mai-Ndombe Province, Democratic Republic of the Congo.

[historyfiles]

Narva Castle in Estonia was initially established in 1277 by the victorious Danes, having carved out a vice-regency from the native territories and with some opposition from the German crusaders to their immediate south.

[awesome-casuallyfamouscollector]

Narva Castle, Estonia, June 18, 2008. Photo by B.E. (From family photo archive) 

[jackiehadel1]

NARVA, ESTONIA 🇪🇪, IVANGOROD, RUSSIA 🇷🇺 : “IT IS A STRANGE PLACE…”

NARVA, ESTONIA 🇪🇪, IVANGOROD, RUSSIA 🇷🇺 : “IT IS A STRANGE PLACE…”

“Once we reach Narva River, the city abounds with the evening sun and the swallows are flying high above. The river divides, at a leisurely pace, the one side from the other, the one nation from the other: a fluid border. It is beautiful, and I realize that I had expected rather something gloomy…It is a strange place. Located on opposite sides of the river are two fortresses that now — once again…

[bolarti]

Narva Hermanni linnus

Narva Castle

[guinnessboy29]

Cozy autumn in Narva

[jimalver]

Hi my name is Carolus Rex Sveciae Gothorum Vandalorumque and I have short light brown hair that I usually wear slicked back and icy blue eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people tell me I look like Alexander the Great (AN: if u don't know who she is get da hell out of here!). I'm not related to Gustav II Adolf but I wish I was because he's a major fucking hottie. I'm a king but my clothes are plain and undecorated. I have pale pox-scarred white skin. I lived in a castle called Three Crowns but it burnt down in 1697 (I was fifteen). I'm an absolute monarch by divine will (in case you couldn't tell) and I wear mostly blue. I love the Carolean army and I get all my clothes sown to match theirs. For example today I was wearing a blue coat with leather gloves and a black tricorn hat, yellow trousers, a yellow vest, and black riding boots. I was not wearing any powder to conceal my scars, and no wig (wigs r dumb!!!). I was walking outside Narva. It was snowing and raining so there was no sun, which I was very happy about. A lot of Muscovites aimed their muskets at me. I put up my middle finger at them.

[smashboxgirl26]

unreachable

knight! iida x fem! reader summary: sent to protect you, left with feelings word count: 3.5k a/n: YEEEEE im back besties

Iida had been training for this moment - the moment he’d step into the castle for the first time and be awed by the sight. The moment where he’d be assigned to be sent off to some gallant land and fight for his kingdom and gain glory.

He’d thrown away his childhood for training in order to uphold his family name of being protectors of the kingdom. And now that he stood in front of the castle with all the other glossy eyed new recruits, he couldn’t believe he’d finally made it. All the sacrifice would be worth it now that he’d be able to bring a good name to himself and his family through his work.

Soon enough, he and the others standing besides him were ushered in, where they were met by the knights of the castle. Straight and rigid as they stood, Tenya passed them with a small gleam of anxiety growing in his chest. Whispers were coming from those around him, and he picked up the words of “princess” and “staying”.

It was a curious thought, and he wasn’t exactly sure how those words fit together in this situation. But he never asked for clarification - deeming it unimportant as he continued to follow behind the crowd of recruits to the room where they'd be assigned their posts.

He wasn’t scared though, as he suspected some of those around him were. He was top of his class, with perfect records on all of his assessments. He was heavily skilled in both hand-to-hand combat and swordsmanship. Everything he’d built himself on was the foundation of a perfect knight, both strong and daring with just the right amount of sense about him. His assignment was sure to be the best.

Finally reaching the throne room, the guards who’d been leading them into the castle had them line up one by one as the King walked in with a stern eye and parchment in hand.

Tenya noticed everyone beside him straighten their posture instantly, as they kept their gaze forward with heavy stares.

It was silent now. No more clanking of armor or swords.

The King quickly cleared his throat before speaking, “Good day to you gentlemen. Before starting, I’d like to applaud you for dedicating yourself to your kingdom. It’s no secret that the process is grueling and demanding, requiring you to give up everything to train. That makes the fact that you went through with the program and stayed more commendable, and I thank you for that.”

There were a few signs of exhaustion beside him and whispers, but Tenya’s face remained like stone. His arms remained rigid and he didn’t dare speak out of turn.

“Now, here's the moment where all your training gets put to use. I expect you’ve all understood from the beginning the locations at which we are currently at war with or fighting in, and have an idea as to the requirements of those jobs.

Here are your assignments. Katsuki Bakugou, please step up.”

Tenya rolled his eyes at the name. He found Bakugou to be a cumbersome individual, someone who clearly thought too highly of himself.

“I’m assigning you to the Narva borders,” the King continued on as one of his assistants handed Bakugou a piece of parchment.

“Thank you, My Lord,” Bakugou bowed, and Tenya could hear the gloating tone heavy in his voice. He was definitely more than pleased about his assignment.

“Tenya Iida.”

A breath was sucked in unknowingly, but Tenya stepped forward with a concentrated look still in his eye. His heart was thumping, and it was strange to think that someone as highly trained as him was nervous about something. Anxiety was something he hadn’t felt in quite some time.

“This isn’t a normal assignment, but I deem you fit enough for the task,” the King spoke. “I’m assigning you to watch over my daughter.”

What?

Tenya’s eyes widened dramatically, but he didn’t dare turn his head to face the King. What kind of assignment was this? How would he be able to get glory from this? What did all his training do if he wasn’t able to bring anything to his family in return?

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” his voice wavered before stepping back.

There were snickers and whispers heard from around him, and Tenya almost wanted to disappear.

- - - - - - - - - -

“May I ask why this was given as my assignment?” Tenya asked the knight in front of him tentatively.

The man under the armor sighed, and Tenya could almost hear the roll of his eyes while they walked down the corridor.

“She’s quite the menace: escaped from the palace at least fifteen times and tried many more. It’s apparently because she has some lover outside the palace who she’s not allowed to meet.”

Tenya only hummed in response, as he followed behind slowly.

“I think the king assigned this to you because you showed promise in your report. No knight has ever lasted more than a couple weeks of being assigned to her; so they have to rotate who’s watching her weekly since we eventually ran out.

“Tonight, you’ll be posted outside her balcony - you better get some rest,” the knight finished.

Iida only sighed and nodded, and that was the end of the conversation.

- - - - - - - - - -

The night was relatively nice, with a soft breeze that whisked itself over the castle - gathering the moonlight in its wake as it brought a beautiful mood. It was nice and peaceful, and Tenya appreciated it dearly.

He was still upset though, over the events that had transpired. All his training and all his sacrifice was being put to watch over some bratty princess who wanted to be some non-noble. It was almost stupid now that he was thinking about it, that his skills were being put to use over something so.. unimportant.

He just stood under your balcony wishing he’d had the courage to speak up against the king. He wished he would have demanded another position - something more suitable of his status. Maybe something even more suited to his family. Wasn’t his family well known for their ability to produce knights? Why did the king assign him to something so mundane then?

Light suddenly flooded the ground from the balcony above, and Iida almost jumped at the soft sigh that came afterwards.

It was the princess.

He felt as his back immediately straightened, his arms no longer stood limp at his sides. His heart was thumping faster now as he made sure to maintain his perfect posture. It was rigid and stone-placed and he remained silent. It was rude to speak first to those above you. He didn’t want to offend you.

“Knight,” you called out.

Tenya paused at the sound, unsure of how he was supposed to react. Should he answer?

“You’re the only one out here,” you sighed. “There isn’t anyone else I’m addressing.”

“I apologize, Your Highness,” his voice called back, and you quickly noticed the slight wavering tone that he carried - he was nervous.

“I was unsure whether it was improper for me to speak to you,” he finished.

“There’s no need for formalities, I just wanted to talk to someone for once. It’s quite lonely to be alone all the time.”

A quick laugh followed that statement.

“Well actually,” you continued, “I suppose being alone and being lonely are the same thing, wouldn’t you say so?”

“In my opinion, Your Highness,” his voice came out, wavering, “Being alone causes loneliness. They could be considered the same thing, however they are infinitely different.”

“I suppose you’re correct,” you chuckled. “But anyways, I wanted to congratulate you on your new position. You must be honored.”

He heard the joking tone in your voice, and he knew you were being sarcastic.

“Of course. I’m honored to serve my Kingdom in any way it needs me,” he gritted out.

Even if it needs me to look after its spoiled brat of a princess.

A laugh was heard from you once more, and Tenya was surprised by that reaction. He’d almost expected a huff and a scowl, or if he was lucky enough - a reassignment.

“I’m surprised you even opened your mouth to speak to me,” you mused. “None of the others before even bothered to speak to me. No wonder I’d end up sneaking away from them in the end.”

“Apologies, Your Highness. I didn’t mean to offend.”

“Enough with the formalities,” you yawned. “They’re unnecessary. You’ll be watching over me, right? It’s inevitable that we’ll become friends of some sort.”

“How do you deem that inevitable?” he finally looked up and peered above him.

Even with the helmet heavy on his head, he was able to make out your form standing above him and basking in the light from your room. You could’ve been described as some godly figure in that light, and if he wanted to look at the situation poetically he could have - especially with the way your face was shone on.

But he clearly wasn’t here for those reasons - stupid reasons.

“Well, I’m only thinking out loud here. If we continue to talk the way we are, I supposed we’d be able to find at least one common ground between us,” you smirked from above. Your elbows were leaning over the railing now, and he could see the gown you were wearing as it flowed in the wind about you.

Something about you in that moment felt untouchable, or for a better term unreachable. Maybe it was the attitude you had, or the class differences. He wasn’t quite sure at that moment.

But, you reached out to him first that night.

“Would you like a drink? We could toast to our new sort of “friendship”, if you’re not adamant on insisting it won’t occur.”

You were giving him these pleading eyes, ones he knew he shouldn’t have listened to, but he shook his head and sighed anyways. You were royalty after all, and as much as he seemed to dislike the childish nature about you he couldn’t exactly outright bash you for it. And he supposed it would be something he got used to, over time at least.

“Sure,” he nodded firmly.

He didn’t notice the slight glint in your eye when he raised himself to reach your balcony. It wasn’t high from the ground, and it was a simple task to bring himself over the stone railings to be standing next to the glass doors to your room.

Tenya wasn’t quite sure how, but the floral scent was much sweeter from your balcony - and he was unable to determine whether it was the wind coming from the gardens or from you. That was until you suddenly appeared beside him, and the honeysuckle and lily could be detected from just the thought of your presence.

But he took the glass from your hand without a second thought, gulping it down while you only stood and smiled in response. Your glass remained in your hand, untouched, and Tenya looked quickly after finishing to ask why you hadn’t even pressed the glass to your lips - that was, until he’d started to feel lightheaded and realized why.

You escaped once more that first night.

- - - - - - - - - -

Besides the initial setback of you running away that first night, and the repercussions you both faced, your friendship surprisingly continued onwards. It became rare to see the two of you apart, and it wasn’t just because it was technically Tenya’s job to “watch you”, so to speak. And even more surprising, Tenya found he began to enjoy your company more than he’d previously expected.

You loved having philosophical and intellectual conversations with him - discussing history, ideas, thoughts, poetry, literature - and he loved partaking in them. It was quite odd in his opinion, the way his view of you seemed to change so quickly and easily. There was much more to you than had originally met his eye - evident by the time the two of you would spend in the library - and he quite enjoyed that sentiment.

Today was a continuation of this, with you sitting on one of the benches in the garden with a book in hand as you recited the poetry within. The roses had recently bloomed, and the garden was filled with the twinkling of dew and the buzzing of lazy honeybees flitting from flower to flower - while your voice reciting poetry in the middle seemed to fit the afternoon perfectly.

“You know, you’re the kind to be driven by rules and regulations,” you suddenly commented as he heard the book snap shut. “May I ask why that is?”

At first glance, Tenya only turned to look at you curiously. He thought it was quite the obvious answer.

“Following the rules and regulations set before us is our duty, in many ways,” he commented thoughtfully. “They were set in order to protect us, thus we must obey them. They’re generally there to help keep peace, or make certain aspects of life better.”

“Generally.” you emphasized quickly. “And if they’re set in order to discriminate? Do we still follow them?”

Tenya swallowed thickly, observing the raised eyebrow you were giving while contemplating how he should phrase his answer.

“Well… then they should be eradicated.”

You simply hummed at his words, and he watched your head bob slightly before you lifted yourself from the bench gracefully, book still in your arms as you approached him.

“Then the rule preventing royals from marrying one of the commonfolk is unfair? It was made in hopes to keep the bloodline from becoming ‘dirtied’ after all.”

Tenya’s eyebrows furrowed under the heavy helmet, pondering over why you might have been bringing up such a topic at this time. At first it was quite the puzzle, but the marriage aspect clicked in an instant. He remembered the words the knight who’d told him his duties had said, the rumors about you constantly escaping due to a lover who was outside the palace. And suddenly he was curious, so curious, in fact, that he was unable to censor himself in time.

“I’m assuming this question has to do with the rumors of the ‘lover’ you supposedly have outside the palace,” he turned to you with almost narrowed eyes.

“You’ve figured me out quickly.” You let out a sigh or chuckle, a cross between both or a sound he couldn’t identify, before giving him a tired smile. “Yes. I was meeting someone outside the palace for some time.”

Tenya paused at your word choice. “...Was?”

“The last time I saw him, the night you started watching me, he told me to stop meeting him. He told me it was too hard for us to continue our ‘affair’ if he wouldn’t be able to remain by my side permanently for the rest of our lives - at least considering that there’s no guarantee for it to happen. And as much as I disagreed with his way of going about it, I couldn’t exactly blame him for his actions. I understand his point of view,” you smiled bitterly.

“That’s why you haven’t escaped since,” Tenya all but thought out loud, barely even realizing he was doing so.

“Of course,” you sighed. “There’s nothing to leave for. There’s no joy in the idea of finding something better outside this palace anymore. I’m just stuck here now without a shred of hope or sense of myself.”

You looked at the rose bush sitting next to you sadly, a reminiscent look stuck in your expression as your fingers began carefully tracing the petals of one of the buds.

Tenya watched as you began reaching your hand into the bush, presumedly to pluck one, and it felt almost too late as he tried to stop you.

“The thorns-”

It was too late, he heard the snap of the branch from the bush as you gently pulled the rose out. He was almost expecting there to be scratches or blood of some sort covering your soft fingers but they were perfectly fine.

“There are none,” you showed him, rolling the stem in between your fingers as he watched the flower petals twirl in the air. “They have them removed so I can’t hurt myself.”

“I apologize-”

“No matter,” you giggled. “There’s no need for you to be so formal anymore Tenya. We’ve known each other for months now.”

Yet I feel as if I’ve known you for lifetimes, much more than my current existence.

“But,” you continued. “That’s why I’m grateful for your company. Without it, I’m guessing I’d be wallowing myself in my own pity constantly.”

You carefully twirled the rose in your nimble fingers once more, before handing it to Tenya with a smile. His large fingers met yours in that single instance, and he only stared at the rose in astonishment at your actions for a few seconds.

That was, until you’d already moved on from the moment as you happily swung away, calling out, “Let’s go find another book to read.”

- - - - - - - - - -

“You’re leaving?”

Tenya only nodded in response, unable to reach your gaze or the sad way your eyes had turned inwards with a downcast expression.

It was true. He’d been assigned to head a section of the gentry out on the borders of Déspoir. It really only was because you hadn’t escaped since the first night he’d met you, and the king actually had recognized his accomplishments when he’d gone through training all that while ago.

And it was funny now that Tenya was thinking about the whole situation, as all those months ago he would’ve been so incredibly excited at the prospect of getting to go out into the middle of the battlefield and gain glory for him and his family in the best way possible. But now? He didn’t want to go - he didn’t want to leave you.

And maybe it was only due to the close friendship you both shared and the time you’d spent together, but there was almost an aching feeling in his chest when he saw the downcast expression over your face. It almost burned, and the heat was welling up in his eyes as they felt heavy and watery.

The closeness he felt towards you was unwarranted, and he realized, at this moment, that the so-called “closeness” he felt towards you had given birth to another feeling. And the fact that it was something he’d only just noticed was due to the burning present in his emotions.

And suddenly, there was so much wanted to say to you - his mind racing as the idea began forming in his mind in that one instant. He couldn’t bear to feel it as he left.

But he did the next day, trying to ignore your teary-eyed waves while he hid his own.

Little did he know that your heart reached and yearned in the same way - painfully stretching itself when you realized that he was no longer with you, that he would no longer accompany you around the palace or listen to your escapades in poetry or literature.

The days afterwards became bleak and boring, with no one to argue with or anyone to bother. You were left to your lonesome, wandering the gardens and plucking flowers, or holing up in the cold library at night to read.

It lasted about two weeks, with you only mulling yourself over in the sadness you’d brought upon yourself. Surely your stupid self should’ve realized your feelings sooner, and not mistaken them as friendship.

But that was until a letter arrived, and the words From Tenya were scribbled hastily over the envelope. You’d dashed straight up to your room after receiving it, closing the door behind you to make sure some maid wasn’t there, before tearing it open and fumbling with the paper so you could read it.

__

My Princess,

I feel that this letter should’ve been written earlier, but I must confess I was too shy to do so. Perhaps what’s being said here should've been said before I left, but saying it at some point is better than never saying it.

I must confess that I’ve held feelings for you, and that since I’ve left, the feelings I’ve held for you have gotten stronger.

The way your eyes sparkle under the heat of the sun when we strolled, the distinct floral scent that seemed to follow as you walked, the rouge of your cheeks like the sun when it set, the blinding smile that everyone was caught by, the sound of your laugh that never failed to brighten my day - all of it seems to be the only thing I can ever think about.

You’re forever in my mind, Princess - and there’s no means to rid of you.

I understand if you don’t return these affections, you are quite unreachable when it comes to our positions - but please note my feelings if you don’t return them.

I send you warm wishes regardless, and hope that you are as full of life as you had been when I’d left. I miss your presence either way, it was soothing to spend time with you.

Stay safe, and out of trouble (as I’m not there to chastise you), and I do hope to see you soon.

Yours, Tenya

fictober masterlist

[leoswritingcorner]

Auryn Intro Post

- Princess Auryn of Kingdom Narva, nicknamed “the golden princess”

- Human

- 5’4, tanned skin, long wavy black hair, gold colored eyes

- The only child of the king and queen

- Sheltered by her parents and raised to be a proper queen, lots of expectation placed on her shoulders

- The reason she’s known as “the golden princess” is due to an enchantment placed on her as a newborn. Her father had bragged a bit too much that she was just as precious and rare as gold, and an enchantress said “Splendid then as thou Bet, thy highness”

- it results in Auryn being able to create an aura of gold dust, it leaves behind solid pieces of gold. She also cried tears of gold cause why not, a vibe

- Due to this, she’s highly sought out by neighboring kingdoms, suitors, and criminals of all kinds

- There’s been numerous attempts at kidnapping her, which leads to hers being sheltered and kept in the castle/on castle grounds at all times, unless she’s heavily guarded and escorted by several knights

- It wears her out, she doesn’t have many real friends due to her lack of freedom, save for Meadow

- The first time there was an attempt to kidnap Auryn is when she’s a child. It ends in a negotiation between Auryn’s and Meadow’s parents that Auryn can be under their protection

- So they are Soft Sheltered Princess bffs

- Auryn learns to beat boredom by playing match maker with her servants. She’s set up a cook and a gardener, a maid and a stable hand, and so on. So she’s a Huge Hopeless Romantic

- Auryn is gentle, soft spoken, but quick thinking and witted. If given the chance, she can be fiery and spirited

- Really believes if she could get a sword, her life would be easier

- The Kingdom of Narva is giving Naboo. It’s sea side, but also lush with forests, valleys, and meadows

- It’s home to all kinds of creature, beings, and species

[positive-minds]

Narva, Estonia.