đ Chapter 2: Bound by Ice
The marriage ceremony was silent. No music. No flowers. No laughter. Only the distant sound of thunder and the heavy breathing of those brave enough to witness the union.
Kael stood at the altar, shrouded in black and draped in his war cloak like a king at execution. His expression was unreadableâhis eyes fixed on the storm outside, not the bride walking toward him.
Aveline's white gown clung to her like mist over snow. She looked like a ghost beside him, pale and trembling, the only color in her face the faint blue of cold lips. She had dreamed of her wedding once. There had been candles. Music. A hand to hold with tenderness.
This was nothing like the dream.
The high priest recited the rites, voice dull and mechanical. Kael didn't flinch, didn't look at herânot until the moment came to take her hand.
His fingers wrapped around hers, gloved and cold. They didn't fit. Her hand was too small. His grip too strong. Yet when he held her, the entire room quieted as if even the wind outside was listening.
"I, Kael of Viremont, take this woman," he said without blinking, "to serve as my wife, my ally, my property. She is mine now. All of her."
No one asked for her consent.
Her voice was never needed.
The ring was slid onto her finger like a shackle.
When the ceremony ended, no one clapped. No one cheered. The guests left as they had arrivedâsilent, grim, watching her as if she'd already been buried.
---
That night, she stood in the center of his chambers, facing the unfamiliar shape of the man she now called husband. Kael unstrapped his armor piece by pieceâmetal clinking against stone, echoing like falling bones. His body was a battlefield. Scars lined his chest, crisscrossed his back. Some looked fresh. Others faded into ancient history.
Aveline couldn't look away.
He turned to her, bare-chested, his expression as calm as it was terrifying.
"Take off the dress," he said, voice low and flat.
Her heart stopped. "You mean toâ"
"I mean to show you what obedience feels like."
Her hands trembled as she reached for the laces. Each motion felt like surrender. But her eyes never left his. Even as the fabric fell and the cold wrapped around her like frostbite, she stood tall. Vulnerable, yes. But not broken.
He approached slowly, circling her like a wolf scenting blood. Then he stopped behind her. No touch. No warmth. Just his breath on her neck.
"You fear me."
"Yes."
"Good."
His fingers finally brushed her shoulder. Not a caress. An inspection. He treated her not like a lover, but like a soldier examining a weapon before battle. When he turned her to face him, she expected cruelty.
But he didn't hurt her.
Instead, he tested her.
His touch was sharp, not sensual. His words were commands, not comfort. When he kissed her, it was punishmentânot passion. When he took her, it wasn't to share warmth. It was to own her.
And yet, through the pain, through the fearâshe never looked away.
When it was over, he lay back, breathing steady, already turning away.
"If you break," he said flatly, "I'll replace you."
Aveline turned her head to stare at the dark ceiling, the bed large and empty despite his body beside her.
"I won't break," she whispered into the silence.
The words weren't defiance. They were prophecy.
And in the stillness of the night, Kael didn't respondâbut something shifted. Something cold. Something dangerous. He had heard her.
---
The next day, Aveline was not summoned.
She was not acknowledged.
No servant brought news of her husband. No guard escorted her to breakfast. No woman came to help her dress. She was left alone in a chamber that was more prison than bedroom.
She walked to the window, but it was sealed shut with iron grates. Snow piled on the outside ledge, untouched. A fire crackled weakly in the hearth, but it gave no warmth.
She sat, half-dressed, staring into it.
What was she now?
Not a wife. Not a queen. Not even a guest.
Just... silence.
And yet, in that silence, she began to think.
Of the way his voice never raisedâbut cut sharper than any blade.
Of the way he studied her, not with lust, but with calculation.
Of how she'd survived the night. How she was still breathing.
He didn't want a bride. He wanted obedience.
But he didn't realize what he'd taken in.
Because Aveline had been silent her whole life. Forgotten. Traded. Owned.
She had learned how to survive in the shadows.
And now, she was in his.
She would not fight him with swords. She had no strength for that.
But she would make him see her.
---
By nightfall, she was standing again. Dressed. Composed. Waiting.
When the door opened, it wasn't him. It was a servant with a tray and a note.
She opened it.
"Tomorrow, you will dine with me. Wear red."
Red.
The color of war.
Or blood.
She smiled.
Not because she was happy. But because for the first time since she arrivedâ
She knew how to play the game.
She folded the note and tucked it into her gown. Then she turned to the mirror.
Her reflection stared back, hollow-eyed but burning.
"You think I'll shatter," she murmured.
Then she leaned closer and whispered to herself, like a vow sealed in ice, "But I will learn how to turn glass into blades."
---