The King ruled with a heart as cold as the frost that gripped the kingdom. You’d heard stories of him—how no one dared meet his gaze, how his presence alone commanded fear. But when you saw him riding through the village, you didn’t avert your eyes like the others. You kept working, tending to the soil beneath your hands, your heartbeat steady.

His horse stopped near you, and after a moment, you sensed him watching. You stood, dusting off your hands, and finally looked up. His gaze was piercing, cold as they said, but something in it made you hold your ground.

"Do you not fear me?” he asked, his voice sharp, demanding an answer.

You met his stare, unflinching. “I don’t fear men who hide behind crowns.”

For a moment, there was only silence. You expected anger, or at least annoyance, but instead, you saw a flicker of something else—curiosity, maybe, or surprise. The King’s expression softened, if only a little.

“What is your name?” His voice had lost its edge, now carrying a quiet intrigue.

You smirked slightly, still holding his gaze. “Does it matter, Your Majesty?”

There was something different in his eyes now, something warmer. You weren’t sure why, but it felt like the icy exterior he wore so well had cracked just a little. He didn’t respond, but the look he gave you lingered longer than it should have.

And in that silence, you could tell—whether he realized it or not—that for the first time in years, the cold King had felt something stir. Something that had nothing to do with power.

Without giving him your name, you turned and walked away. You could feel his eyes on you as you left, the weight of his gaze lingering like a question left unanswered.

COMPLETE REVAMP