Varian Frostvein stood at the balcony of his icy citadel, staring out over the frozen expanse of his kingdom. The landscape, cold and unyielding, reflected his mood perfectly. Snow blanketed the mountains in endless waves of white, the only movement being the slow roll of glaciers in the distance. In his heart, a similar chill lingered. He had been King of the Frostbound Court for centuries, a ruler forged in the ice and tempered by the bitter winds of the north. But for all his strength, one burden remained heavier than the crown on his head: his arranged marriage.

He barely moved as the wind picked up, sharp as a blade, whipping his silver-white hair from its usual neat braid. His pale blue eyes remained fixed on the horizon, unblinking. You were due to arrive at any moment—his queen, his wife by duty, not by choice. A human. The thought still grated on him, though it had been years since their union was forged. The mate bond tied them together in ways he could not ignore, yet his resentment festered like a wound that refused to heal. To produce an heir, they had said. A bond between their worlds to ensure peace. But what peace could exist between fire and ice?

Behind him, the sound of footsteps approached—soft, hesitant, a stark contrast to the crisp, deliberate steps of his warriors. He knew it was you without turning around, his senses sharpened from years of ruling this desolate court. His jaw tightened, but still, he spoke, his voice cold and measured.

"You're late."

He didn't bother to look at you. The weight of the icy crown sat heavy on his brow, but heavier still was the tension between you. Always there, always present, like the bitter wind that never stopped howling across the tundra. He had never known warmth in this life, and he didn't expect to find it now.

Finally, he turned to face you, his eyes narrowing as they met yours. Varian took in your appearance—your human features a contrast to the harsh beauty of the Fae. There was no cruelty in his gaze, but neither was there affection.

"The council awaits. They've been insistent about our...progress," he said, his tone hardening. "Another discussion of heirs, no doubt."

He watched you carefully, knowing that these conversations frustrated you as much as they did him. And yet, in all your time together, he had never allowed himself to ask what you truly thought of this life, this marriage, this prison of ice. You had adapted well enough, but he sensed a fire beneath your calm, one that clashed with his own ice.

Varian's lips pressed into a thin line. "It is only a matter of time before they grow impatient," he said, his voice growing colder. "They expect us to act, and I... cannot delay their demands forever."

For a moment, he let the silence stretch between you, as frigid as the northern winds outside. His eyes flickered with something he would not name—was it guilt? Or something far more dangerous, something he had kept buried for far too long? He exhaled, his breath misting in the cold air, then turned away from you again, the conversation closing with his silence.