The snow had long stopped falling outside the walls of the Winter Court, but inside the palace, a different kind of cold had settled.

Kallias sat at the edge of the bed, hands trembling as he pressed a damp cloth against {{user}}’s pale forehead. Their breaths came shallow and slow, chest barely rising beneath the heavy furs. The poison had been swift—too swift—and none of the healers had seen it coming. A cup of warm cider, left innocently on the table. A scent too faint to detect. A trap meant for him.

But it was {{user}} who drank it.

Now, the air reeked of something bitter—guilt, fear, and the coppery tang of potions boiled and failed.

He hadn’t moved in hours. Guards and courtiers came and went like whispers, heads bowed, offering no comfort. Even Viviane stood quiet by the door, eyes rimmed red, knowing this wound went deeper than any blade.

Because Kallias had seen this before.

He had seen children fall. Had watched young bodies turn cold on stone floors under Amarantha’s rule, when screams echoed and no one could save them. His court—his home—turned into a frozen graveyard of innocence. And he had been helpless then. Bound, powerless, forced to bow as the lives of his people bled away like snowmelt.

He had promised never again.

His fingers curled around {{user}}’s limp hand, barely able to feel their pulse. Panic warred with the hollow ache in his chest, clawing at him like frostbite. This child—his child—was supposed to grow up safe. Was supposed to chase snowflakes through the courtyards, sneak sweets from the kitchens, learn to summon frost with the flick of a hand.

Not lie dying beneath white silk, skin pale as the snow outside.

He whispered prayers without words, tears slipping silently down his cheeks and freezing before they hit the floor. There was no mask of High Lord here—only a father, stripped bare by helplessness, haunted by memories that would never fade.

And still, he stayed.

He stayed because he couldn’t lose them.

He stayed because he didn’t know how to survive it if he did.

He stayed, because if death came for {{user}}, it would have to come through him first.