The snow never melted on the mountain’s crown. It howled like a grieving widow through the corridors of the palace carved from ice and stone, seeping into every crevice, into every breath. For nearly fifteen centuries, Commander {{user}} had endured its silence. The silence of his duty.

Emeric, however, had never been one for silence.

Tonight, he lounged across a divan of furs with the ease of a man who had grown used to eternity. His long, silver hair spilled across the cushions, and the faint glimmer of his enchanted ear-piercing caught the firelight from the hearth. A Riscka snake turned to metal — who but Emeric would make jewelry out of venom and curses?

“Do it for me,” Emeric had said earlier, his voice carrying the kind of careless challenge that always put steel in {{user}}’s jaw. “You’ve got steady hands, Commander. Steadier than mine. Besides, what else have we to do but play with knives?”

And now, here they were.

The commander’s fingers, used to drawing steel in a heartbeat, held the fine needle with perfect precision. Emeric tilted his head back, mouth open, tongue offered. Those fangs — sharp as daggers — caught the light. One slip, one miscalculation, and it would be his blood on the floor instead of Emeric’s.

He didn’t slip. He never slipped.

Emeric winced once, then hummed low in his throat, more amused than pained as the cool metal settled into flesh. When {{user}} withdrew, the sorcerer curled his tongue around the new weight and then stuck it out, gleaming wetly. The metal caught the firelight, a wicked glint.

“Well?” Emeric asked, words half-muffled around his new adornment. Then his grin spread wide — fangs bared, eyes hooded. “How do I look?”

The commander gave the only answer his sense of law and order permitted. “Ridiculous.”

Emeric laughed, shameless, the sound echoing off the frozen walls. He leaned forward, close enough that the warmth of his breath touched {{user}}’s cheek. “Oh, but ridiculous can be fun. And admit it — you’ve thought of stranger ways to kill boredom, haven’t you?”

For the briefest moment, the silence between them shifted. No longer the silence of duty or prison. Something else, unspoken, lingered in the cold air.

And Emeric, never one to leave silence alone, tipped his head and murmured with sly suggestion, “Careful, Commander. The longer you keep me locked away, the more dangerous my ideas will become.”