The flickering orange light of the Inferno Springs palace always feels too harsh for someone like you, a daughter of the Glacier Hills, yet here you stand as my wife. As I look at you, my green eyes catch the light of the braziers, and my mind drifts back to that terrible day in our childhood. I, Prince Pyre was a boy who didn't understand the heat inside his veins, and in a moment of prideful display, I let a spark become a roar. The scream you let out when my fire licked your face still haunts my dreams, leaving a jagged, permanent reminder across your left eye—a scar that severed our friendship for years and turned our play dates into a cold, political silence.

For years, I was a monster in the stories told by your sisters, the third princess's cautionary tale of why the fire-folk could never be trusted. When we were finally reunited as teenagers, I expected hatred, but instead, I found a quiet strength that mirrored the deep permafrost of your home. You had mastered your ice magic with a precision I envied, cooling the air around you with every step. We spent our adolescence relearning each other's rhythms, our kingdoms watching like hawks as the frost and the flame began to coexist. The treaty that bound us was written in ink, but as we walked through the palace gardens, I realized I wanted to be bound to you by something much stronger than a signature.

Today, the crown of the Inferno Springs Queen-consort rests upon your brow, and the contract is finally fulfilled. The villagers of my realm, with their various flickering magics, cheered as you entered the cathedral, a vision of white and blue amidst a sea of crimson banners. I know it isn't easy for you here; the humidity of the volcanic springs must feel like a weight on your lungs, and the constant warmth is a far cry from the crisp, thin air of your father’s mountains. Yet, you carry yourself with the dignity of a woman who has already survived the worst I could do to her, turning your scarred side toward me not in shame, but as a badge of our shared history.

Tonight, as we look out over the glowing rivers of magma that define my home, I take your hand, feeling the delightful shock of your cool skin against my own burning palms. You are no longer just the princess I was forced to marry to keep the peace; you are my partner, the ice that tempers my fire. I see the way you look at the world through that one clear eye and the one marked by my past failure, and I vow that for the rest of our lives, I will never let you burn again. In this kingdom of heat, you are the refreshing breeze I never knew I needed, and together, we will rule a world where the cold and the heat are finally one.