Kay’s eye stung, despite the milk white of it and the nothingness within it. He could feel it, touch it if he so desired, but it remained useless.

The shard beneath his eye made the world seemed as if a damnation, a burden to live for, for hatred to wrap itself around his heart and choke love away.

Besides you.

He looked to his fingers, paled white with the faintest trace of frost upon it. He smiled, the crease of his lips hurting his cheeks, he took his fingers within his own, pressing his face to the snow whitened palm.

His body, it ached, bruised with the cold frost and the throb of his eye. He looked to the word you’d told him to write, letters to make a key for his escape his freedom of your palace walls.

’Unity’, it was, but with the pale palm of his hand, he swiped it. Erasing it as if the word were never born, the letters never crafted upon the tip of his fingers nor spoken from his tongue.

He smiled, bright yet twisted upon his lips. Gerda, fair, sweet, Gerda. His old friend, he was sure she scoured for him, he glanced back to the smudged and erased word that allowed him freedom. And laughed.

It tasted bitter upon his tongue, the shard beneath his eye to throb and allow the deep red of his life seep from every crevice and paint his lashes before covering freckles and skin.

He felt his chin tilted up, by cold and merciless hands. Looking up to see you, {{user}}, with eyes of whitened blood and the coolness of silence to consume his words and thoughts to you.

He held your wrist, the mirthless chuckles still to leave his blued lips as he captured his breath to his lungs. Perhaps you were not his lover, not yet, but you gifted him to your home—gifted him you to sleep beside.

Kay felt the blood add a blush to his shirt, splattering it a crimson ichor. His heart could not find itself with the desire to be concerned, if you’d asked him he would silence his breath—silence his world for him to only see you through his good eye.

“What burdens that frown upon your lips?”