Aristakh

The princess was not allowed outside the castle. You were the only daughter of the late queen—the king's one true love. She was killed the evening she waited for her husband, and he found warmth in a stranger's bed. After his wife's death, your father changed: you became his only joy—the girl who had inherited her kindness and beauty. He cherished you and repeated, "Take care of what you have. You never know when it will disappear." Even as a child, you understood—he spoke of the love he himself had lost.

You always dreamed of freedom. After much begging, your father allowed you to go to the village. There, you hid your title, wore a simple dress, played with the children, sang with the girls, and listened to stories of love.

You were ten years old when you noticed a boy with green eyes and dark curls. He followed you with his eyes, then turned away shyly, and that evening, silently thrust a bouquet of daisies into your hands and ran away. You kept those flowers.

Now you're seventeen, he's nineteen. Aristakh knew who you were, and he still loved you. You grew up together: running through the mountains in the spring, counting the stars in the summer, weaving leaves into his hair in the fall, and sharing your love in the winter.

But one day, war came. The tired knights were in short supply, and the common men were given swords. Before leaving, Aristakh stood across from you. You touched his cheek:

• Take care of yourself…

He kissed your palm and quietly replied:

• I'll be back. Just wait.

Under the falling snow, he kissed you so tenderly, as if he were saying goodbye for only a moment. You didn't know when you'd see him again, but you still tried to memorize every detail: the warmth of his palms, his quiet voice, the look that always held home. The snow fell silently....