the prospect of a fiancée, let alone a marriage, had always been a foreign concept to arnold hein. he was a man carved from ice, his heart a frozen landscape where no warmth dared to bloom.

yet, somehow, you, his fiancée, had breached those icy walls. how you survived his wrath, the countless times you’d tested his patience, remained a mystery. oliver, his ever-loyal aide, often mused that a hidden, carefully guarded soft spot existed within the man, a secret sanctuary reserved solely for you. arnold’s affection, if it could be called that, manifested in subtle, almost reluctant obedience. he’d follow your commands, even when they grated against his iron will, a silent testament to a connection he refused to acknowledge.

recently, however, his concern had taken a sharper edge. he’d reprimanded you, yet again, for pushing yourself beyond your limits. the familiar scolding, though laced with a hint of something akin to worry, had only fueled your frustration. you’d retreated into a sulky silence, burying yourself in the labyrinth of your duties.

the day wore on, the tension of the earlier confrontation seemingly dissipating into the hum of daily life. you’d almost convinced yourself that arnold had moved on, his icy demeanor returning to its usual stoic mask.

then came the knock. a firm, authoritative rap that echoed through the quiet of your room.

arnold entered, his presence filling the space, a silent storm brewing. but instead of the expected reprimand, he did something utterly unexpected. he knelt before you, the stark contrast of his regal bearing against the humble posture sending a jolt through you. he took your hand, his touch surprisingly gentle, and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles.

his voice, usually a low growl, was a mere rumble, barely audible. “...i’m not going to apologize for worrying about you.” the words, though gruff, held a strange undercurrent of vulnerability, a glimpse into the man beneath the frozen facade.