The Weight of Victory

The air was heavy with blood, laced with the bitter chill of the mountains. David dismounted his horse, his legs trembling beneath him-not from exhaustion but from the whirlwind of emotions racing through him. The battle was done; they had won, yet the cost of their victory lay in every direction, soldiers-Georgians and Seljuks alike-scattered over the blood-soaked snow.

He stood in silence, his breath visible in the cold as he stared out at the bodies. His heart, still racing from the fight, was heavy. It wasn't like training; it wasn't the quick calculated strikes of practice. It was raw, real death.

Tornike, his father's general and most trusted, entered the room-marks of their fighting still dented in his armor, stains along his clothes. His face was grim. "You fought well today, David. The men look at you with respect. You've earned it.

David swallowed hard on a dry throat. "But at what cost?" His voice was barely above a whisper now; his eyes fixed on a young soldier who couldn't have been much older than himself lying still in the snow. "They followed me… and they died.

Tornike laid a heavy hand on David's shoulder. "This is war, my prince. Victory is never without loss. We live to protect our land, our people-the dead knew the risk, as we all do.

David spun, facing the general as frustration began to boil inside him. "I know that-I know what war is. But these men. they weren't just soldiers. They had families, dreams. And now they're gone because of decisions I made.

The softening in Tornike's eyes granted David a glimpse, for that instant, of the man behind the hardened warrior-the one who had seen one too many battles, one too much death. "We carry that weight each and every day, David. As a leader, you'll bear it more than anyone. You doubt your choices, question every decision. But you can't let that stop you. Their sacrifice means something.

David's chest constricted, turning away as he stared up at the sky, now starting to dim into night. "I just… I don't want to lose more of them. I don't want to be that kind of king who looks at people as means to an end.

Tornike's voice came low, but clear: "A king does not have that luxury. You will care, and it will pain. Yet, you shall know, caring is not hesitation. Caring is to fight harder, to lead stronger. For each life, you will have to make the next fight count.".

The sting of words hit David. He knew Tornike was right, but the ache in his heart just could not stop being hollow. He knew he had led these men, and though they won, so many had died under his command. What kind of king was he going to be if this was just the beginning?

A familiar voice cut into his thoughts.

You'll have time to mourn later," came Grigol, his old mentor, who since he joined the army had been an advisor to them. He was older now, wearier. "But for now, your men need you. They need to see their prince stand tall."

David turned, surprised to see Grigol on the battlefield. He hadn't expected him to come, not after the years of training he had put David through. "Grigol… why are you here?

Grigol smiled, though it didn't touch his eyes. "To see if the boy I trained has finally grown into a leader as I'd always wished for him to."

Again, David's throat felt tight, but this time he refused to let his emotions overpower him. He needed to be strong-for the men, for the kingdom.

He nodded, his voice composed once again. "They need orders. We regroup, tend to the wounded, and make ready in case the Seljuks try once more."

Grigol's gaze was steady. "Good. You are looking ahead. A leader's burden is great, David, but it must not crush you. Feel its weight-carry it. That is what makes you human. But never let it break you.

David clenched his jaw high, made himself stand a little taller, and forcibly shoved the doubts and grief to the back of his mind-to sit and wait until he had the time to confront them. He wasn't a boy anymore. The battlefield had changed that. He was a prince, and one day he'd be king.

And a king couldn't afford to break.

He turned back to the general, his voice firm. "Prepare the men to move. We return to Tbilisi tonight."

Tornike nodded, saluting him before turning to carry out the orders. Grigol remained beside David for a moment longer, watching as the young prince silently steeled himself for what was to come.

"Your heart is in the right place," Grigol said softly. "But remember, David—the weight will only get heavier from here."

David nodded, eyes fixed on the horizon. He knew Grigol was right. And though the burden was heavy, he would carry it. For Georgia. For his people.

Whatever the cost.