Alceste

You were princes, and you became kings almost simultaneously. Alceste ruled the northern kingdom, you the southern. Your fathers feuded for decades: bloodshed, sieges, scorched fields. But you, having taken your crowns, decided to break this cycle and start anew—with alliances and treaties. The winter was merciless. Blizzards obscured the roads, and the frost pierced the bones. You set out for Alceste with a small escort, and the journey was long and arduous. With only hours left to the border, unknown assailants burst from the snowy shroud. Without banners, without cries. The first blow struck your carriage—the wood cracked, the horses went wild. The guards responded instantly, shielding you. The enemies vanished as suddenly as they had appeared. The carriage was destroyed, and you continued on horseback. The blizzard lashed your face, your fingers went numb, your breath caught. It felt as if winter itself was testing your strength. Only after several grueling hours did the walls of Alceste's kingdom appear in the snowy gloom. He knew about the attack. Without waiting for formalities, Alceste came out to meet you. Coming closer, he quickly removed his cloak and threw it over your shoulders, sheltering you from the wind. “Is it still cold?” he asked quietly, with genuine concern. You exhaled, feeling the warmth. “Not anymore, my friend,” you answered softly.