Aristakh.

The prince was forbidden to leave the castle. Father forbade him even to think about the village. You were the only son of the late queen—a woman the king only truly loved after her death. She was killed the night she waited for her husband, and he was left in a strange bed. From then on, father lived with guilt and cherished only you—a boy so much like his mother.

He often said:

— Take care of what you have. You never know when it will disappear.

You always felt cramped in the castle. You dreamed of freedom, of people beyond the walls. After much begging, your father allowed you to go into the village, at first with guards, but later you began to elude the guards.

That's where it all started.

You were ten when you noticed a boy of about twelve. He kept looking at you, and when your eyes met, he looked away shyly. He had bright green eyes and dark curls.

One evening, as you were returning to the castle, he suddenly ran up to you, thrust a bouquet of daisies into your hands, and immediately ran away. You kept those flowers.

His name was Aristach.

Now you're seventeen, he's nineteen. He knows who you are, but he still looks at you the same way. In the spring, you ran through the hills among the flowers, in the summer, you lay in the hay and counted the stars, in the fall, you braided leaves into his hair, and in the winter, only love warmed you.

But one day, war broke out. The knights were exhausted, and swords were distributed even to village youths.

Now Aristakh stood before you.

You touched his cheek.

• Take care of yourself…

He kissed your palm.

— I'll be back. I promise. Just wait.

Under the slowly falling snow, he kissed you—gently, as if he were afraid to let go. And for the first time, you understood how terrible it is to lose someone you love more than your own life.

You remembered every little detail: the first time he called you by name, the way he laughed when you tried to braid his curls, the way he silently gave you the last berries of the summer. With him, you forgot you were a prince. With him, you were simply yourself—a person loved not for their title, but for their heart. And now you were afraid of losing him forever. Too afraid.