Ulrich knew perfectly well that his affection for the Lithuanian monarch brought more pain than joy. Despite this, he kept telling himself sweet lies that Jagiello would somehow love him too, that they would be happy. He secretly loved him. He could spend whole nights thinking what would have happened if they had been together. What would their lives be like, what would they do? How wonderful it would be if they could spend time together. His deepest dream of being with him would come true. The man who is his soul mate in dreams and his enemy in reality. They say everyone can always dream
Everyone can also lie to themselfs. These lies are as sweet as anise candy, irresistible.
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The feeling he had for the Lithuanian was getting stronger every day. A feeling that both winged and hurt at the same time, because he would never return it. Maybe if he had been born someone else, had been someone else, everything would have turned out differently? But would another Ulric love Jogaila as much as he did? Would another Ulric still be him? Even though they hadn't really said a word to each other, it felt like he talked to him every night. You could say that it was so, in his mind he told him everything: about his worries, plans and dreams. He wished these conversations weren't just in his head. Lithuanian was the whole world to him, and he probably could not exist for him. And that was what hurt the most. Knowing that in the eyes of the person he loves, he is a problem, a mistake, someone to get rid of.
For Ulric, he was the ideal, the fulfillment of his deepest dreams. He didn't accept the possibility that he, too, might have flaws and make mistakes. In his eyes, he has no flaws. They were very sweet little lies. Sweet and small like aniseed candies. Candies of the kind that, after not a long time, reaches involuntarily. Ulrich adored Anise and could not resist it just as he could not resist his feeling for the Lithuanian, who probably thinks that the world would be better without the younger von Jungingen.
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War seemed to him the only solution. Death will free him from love. Everything will be better. But at the thought that it could be otherwise and that even after death it wouldn't be better and wouldn't free itself from the debilitating and incomprehensible feeling, tears welled up in the blonde's blue eyes.
He couldn't remember when his feeling for the Lithuanian had started, but was it important? It didn't matter the beginning, what matters will be the end, which may come suddenly. She will always love him, no matter what happens. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware that she would love him for everything and for nothing, during life and after death, because that's what true love is all about. But he wished so much that it wasn't true love, that it wasn't love at all. He felt torn. Torn between the feeling he loathes and the one he needs. Between the brutal truth and sweet lies.
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If only he could be with him, not as a king, but as a man like everyone else. He would then forget that he is his enemy and great master. Maybe he would push his worries away. He would give anything to be able to honestly talk to him. Without fear. It was obvious he wasn't there. All sorts of scenarios ran through his mind, but one of them was particularly terrifying, but also comforting: he dies and stops loving the other. He will forget about him. Blue's mental state was getting worse. More and more he fell into the abyss from which no one would pull him out, and certainly not the one he counts on so much.
Some part of his soul wanted to spend his life with him, but that would never be given to him. He wanted to spend every free moment with him, go for walks, talk for hours about everything and nothing, fall asleep, and wake up next to him. Did he want too much? He just asked for it. He wanted him with him, he wanted to be with him. Another part of her was screaming for him to let it go. But he was too stubborn, proud, and ultimately stupid to let it go.
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His mental state was getting worse and worse, he felt as if the sun was starting to go out, as if birds were singing depressing melodies, and as if everything had become sad. The whole world seemed to suffer with him because of this unlucky love. In fact, the sun still shone the same, only it faded in his eyes. Maybe in the afterlife God or some other all-powerful force will allow them to be together? Then there will be no war between them.
He can only play pretend in his head. He can only imagine that one day they will be happy together, that he will become everything to him, as he is to him. Sweet and not-so-small lies filled his mind. I wonder if they'll still be like anise candy after death?
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Love knows no boundaries, so they say, so why have so many been placed in front of him? Liars. He didn't tell anyone about his feeling for the Lithuanian, so he had to suffer alone. Though if he had said it anyway, they would have probably thought it was a bad joke. The rest was probably even better. One night he dreamed that he was in an empty room with him and just cuddled up to him. No one could get past them, no one could enter. That was enough to make it the most beautiful dream he had ever had.
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The evening of July 14, 1410 came. Ulric was no more, his tears, which had not yet dried on his cheeks and which no one supposedly knew, were gone. There was no smile of his that hid a soul shattered like a mirror. There were no more lies that he told himself
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