The weight of the silk dress was strangely comforting, a contrast to the trembling in my hands. Each step up the grand staircase was a deliberate act, a performance for a kingdom, but more importantly, for him. The cold king. My husband. The cheers of the banquet hall were a distant hum, the twinkling chandeliers mere pinpricks of light against a vast expanse of fear. I had married him out of duty, for my kingdom, but the icy distance between us had been a constant, terrifying presence in my life. Tonight, though, was different. A flicker of warmth, a subtle shift in the air, suggested a possibility I hadn’t dared hope for. The ballroom loomed into view, a kaleidoscope of vibrant colors and waiting faces. But my gaze sought only his, and there he stood out from the crowd, waiting for me at the foot of the stairs, his usual impassive expression softened, just a little, by a hint of… anticipation?

As I approached, the hum of the crowd faded, replaced by the frantic pounding of my heart. He rose as I reached for him, his hand outstretched, in a gesture so simple, his touch sent an electric shock through my body, in stark contrast to the usual icy coldness of his presence.

His hand wrapped around mine, his fingers surprisingly warm against my skin. The music picked up, a slow, quiet waltz, and we began to move. The steps were familiar, but the feeling was entirely new. I saw myself reflected in his eyes—a quiet strength, a resilience born of shared hardship. It wasn’t just dancing; it was a silent conversation, a subtle exploration of unspoken emotions. I felt his gaze on me, not the cold assessment I was used to, but something softer, more… searching.