Trigger Warning: Violence, Self-Harm
Pain. It was always pain.
He had endured this agony for years.
Yet tonight, something was different.
Something was wrong.
The chains were heavy.
They always were.
And they always hurt.
The cold steel restraints anchored him to the stone table beneath him. His body arched against them, muscles seizing as another pulse of pure, searing agony tore through him. His mind had chosen this.
He had chosen this. But his body did not.
The core of his very being fought back with everything it had.
Ice cracked along his skin, splintering in jagged, uncontrolled bursts. The frost lashed outward, climbing the walls, the floor, everything. He tried to suppress it. To hold it back.
But tonight. Something inside him refused.
Feronis' grip on the blade tightened, his breath sharp, uneven.
The golden edge of the weapon shook in his claws.
"DAMN IT! It cannot...!"
Steel, said to be blessed by Solaris himself...
It had always been enough...
One swift motion.
But this time...
It wasn't...
"Hold him STILL!"
Feronis’ voice snapped through the chamber, strained and sharp with frustration.
The lionfolk’s broad arms trembled as he pressed down, bracing all his weight against the man's arm, his golden fur matted with frost. "Hold him down!"
"I AM holding him, FER! " Beaufort snarled, his grip tightening over the man's shoulders, forcing him back onto the table. "But he's NOT LETTING US!"
The rage in their voices clawed into the man's mind.
And he felt everything...
The duty. The resentment.
The unbearable, conflicting hatred.
Not hatred for him.
But hatred for what they had to do.
Beaufort's rage blazed, but it was sorrow that ignited it.
"ʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ’ᴛ ᴅᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ. ʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ’ᴛ ᴅᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ..."
Feronis’ anger was colder, sharper, laced with exhaustion and bitter guilt.
"ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴏɴᴛʜ... ɪ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ... ɪ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴀɴʏᴍᴏʀᴇ..."
The weight of the lion's emotions drowned him... Smothering, Suffocating.
The chains groaned under the pressure of his untamed magic.
The runes flickering, ice creeping over the engravings. The man's core was fighting...
"Lumin! Please!You have to control yours—!!!"
Beaufort’s voice was tight, almost pleading.
But the man couldn’t... He desperately tried to still the roaring storm inside him, tried to let go, but the moment that the blade hovered above him, something deep inside his chest screamed. It would not relent, not this time. His body lashed out.
"BEAU, WATCH OUT!—"
A pulse of untamed power detonated outward. Beaufort was thrown across the chamber, crashing into a stone pillar with a choked gasp. The impact rattled the walls, knocking the breath from his lungs. His claws scraped against the floor as he tried to push himself up, coughing.
Feronis staggered backward, his arms locking as ice climbed up his forearms, freezing deep into his fur, into his flesh, deeper, deeper—
"Beau!" Feronis snapped, gritting his teeth against the pain. "You alright?!"
"Ergh—FINE!" Beaufort growled, forcing himself upright.
Feronis’ eyes widened as he turned back toward the table.
"By Solaris…!" His breath came sharp, uneven. "He’s breaking the chains!"
Both lionfolk’s gazes snapped toward the restraints. The steel shuddered, barely holding against the full force of the man's rebellion. The ice was growing.
Spikes of frost jutted from the floor, crawling up the walls, twisting around the support columns. It was freezing everything...
"We have to move—NOW!" Feronis shouted.
Beaufort lunged forward.
He threw his full weight onto the man's shoulders, forcing him down with everything he had. Feronis followed, both of them straining against the sheer power beneath them, claws burning from the cold, ignoring their own pain.
The man thrashed, another broken sound escaping his lips—something raw, something neither of them had ever heard before. His mind was cracking beneath the weight of their emotions.
Beaufort’s pain. Feronis’ frustration.
Hatred. Resentment. Exhaustion.
It was all his now. And it was too much.
Everything blurred. The chaos inside him surging...
He could hear the muffled shouting...
"AMEENA, STAY BACK, IT'S TOO DANGEROUS!"
The pain...
Unbearable...
He was breaking...
His mind was breaking...
And then...
Soft hands...
A voice...
Ameena.
Her fingers found his face.
Comforting, Warm, Grounding, Peaceful.
A breath. A whisper.
"Einar..."
The man shuddered.
His magic stilled, just for a moment.
Ameena’s hands cupped his face, thumbs brushing along his cheekbones.
She wasn’t afraid.
She wasn’t angry.
She was here.
She had always cared.
He had always ignored it.
He could never acknowledge the way she affected him.
How it made the cold feel just a little less suffocating.
It was easier to pretend...
Easier to believe she couldn’t reach him...
...
"No...You... have... to... step... away!" The man's voice raw with strain.
Her expression didn’t change.
...
"I am not going anywhere."
...
"No! I... " he panted, barely able to form words through the agony...
The ice spreading beneath him.
"I don’t... want to hurt you!"
Her grip tightened just slightly.
"You won’t. I know you won't."
He knew she believed it.
And that was what finally make him... relent.
Because he could hear everything...
Every thought...
Every whisper...
Every fleeting doubt of anyone who came near him.
But not hers.
Her mind was silent.
Not void, not absent. but calm.
A radiance of pure calm.
"Einar... Breathe, please, Just breathe..."
Her presence...
She was... an anchor.
And in this moment he felt it.
Not from his mind...
From his heart...
She felt for him.
And in this moment, he could not deny it—
He wanted to feel that.
He trembled beneath her hands.
Somewhere, in all that ice...
Something cracked.
A small green stem, fragile yet defiant, broke through the ice.
A single white flower bud, pressing toward the light...
Ameena’s eyes softened.
"Ameena, get back!!" Feronis shouted.
She didn’t move.
Her forehead touched Einar's.
"I'm not leaving."
It was only for a second...
He stopped resisting...
But that was just enough...
"FERONIS, NOW!!!!"
He had no choice.
He braced his stance, digging his claws into the frozen surface—
And tore.
A sickening snap echoed through the chamber.
The force of it... ripped through Einar's body.
It felt like the world itself fractured.
The scream that followed...
It was not just pain.
It was loss.
The pulse that burst from Einar’s body lashed out in all directions...
Shattering the ice, splintering the walls, rattling the very foundations of the palace.
Feronis staggered back, gasping, his arms trembling from exertion.
His heart pounded violently against his ribs....
Beaufort's grip still firm on Einar’s shoulders...
Waiting... Watching...
As the last of his resistance faded...
Einar’s body went limp....
He had no breath left to scream....
His vision blurred, the chamber spinning...
The last thing he saw was Ameena...
Still holding his face, still whispering his name...
And then...
Darkness.
...
...
...
...
...
...
Einar woke to warmth. Yet his eyes did not open yet.
He felt the warmth of The Sun touch his skin, it evens stinged a bit.
His body had forgotten that feeling. It did not know how to respond to it.
There was a faint scent of steamed tea leaves... and a hint of Chamomile.
His body ached, but the pain was manageable. A dull, pulsing absence settled deep within him, like something had been taken—but he did not need to look to know.
They was gone.
And that meant, he was safe.... For now.
His vision was hazy at first, edges blurred with exhaustion. He blinked slowly, adjusting to the light in the room. The heavy canopy of his bed stretched overhead, the intricate carvings of ancient Marayan craftsmanship becoming more brighter with each ray of sunlight shining into his bedroom.
And then, through the quiet hum of his senses returning, he saw her.
Ameena sat beside him on the bed, a porcelain cup resting between her hands. Wisps of steam curled lazily into the air. She had been waiting.
The moment his eyes opened, her gaze lifted.
A slow breath left her lips... not relief, not yet—but something close.
"You're awake."
Einar swallowed. His throat was raw, like stone grinding against ice. "...It seems so."
She nodded once, setting the tea down. There was no flurry of concern, no hurried movements. Just patience. His gaze flickered to her hands... Wrapped in a bandage.
"Did I...?!" he hesitated, his voice quieter now. "Did I hurt you?!"
Ameena blinked. Her lips parted slightly, as if the question had surprised her.
Then, a small shake of her head.
"It didn’t hurt."
Einar let out a breath, his body settled back against the pillows, the weight of exhaustion pressing into his limbs. His mind drifted, pulling at half-formed thoughts, memories tangled in the remnants of pain.
"What about Feronis and Beaufort? Are they alright?" he asked.
Ameena picked up the teacup again, taking a slow sip before answering.
"They completed the ritual, and they carried you here." she murmured.
Einar stilled.
"They…!?" His voice wavered for a fraction of a second, the disbelief creeping in.
"They did it without me?!"
Ameena met his gaze, unwavering. "It’s done, Einar."
A flicker of something hollow twisted inside him.
His duty. His responsibility.
The ritual had never been theirs to bear. It had always been his.
A dull ache settled in his chest. Not from the pain. From shame.
Shame that they had suffered the weight of that ritual in his place.
Ameena must have seen it, the way his expression shifted, the way his fingers curled slightly against the blankets—because she spoke before he could.
"It’s all taken care of..." she said softly. "Rest."
Einar exhaled, his shoulders loosening.
He wanted to protest. Wanted to say something about how it was his burden,
his to endure, his to keep buried in ice...
Where they belonged...
But she didn’t look away.
And for once, neither did he.
The silence between them was different than before.
Not heavy. Not suffocating. Just quiet.
Then...
Ameena tilted her head slightly, a smirk flickering at the corners of her lips.
"Heh-heh..." she mused, setting the cup aside. "I knew you were a blonde too..."
Einar frowned, caught off guard. "What?"
She gestured vaguely toward his head. "It suits you..."
For the first time, Einar noticed it.
The weight in his limbs, the air around him, the strange absence of cold...
And then... The color.
The blue-white frost of his hair had melted, replaced by a softened pale gold,
streaked with strands of something lighter.
A season untouched by winter.
Spring.
The realization struck him all at once...
The air was warm....
Not cold enough to turn breath into mist.
And there along the edges of the sheets, along the crevices of his bedside table...
Even curling along the floor were flowers...
Small, delicate things. Blooming.
His body had shifted. He had turned.
For the first time in centuries, there was no ice.
Ameena leaned back, her expression uncharacteristically amused.
Einar stared at her for a long moment.
Then slowly, deliberately...
He exhaled through his nose, half-exasperated, half-something-else.
"I hate this..." he muttered.
Ameena grinned. "No, you don’t."
He lifted a brow, unimpressed. "Yes, I do."
She chuckled, resting her chin against her hand.
"Well. Keep telling yourself that... Sunshine."
Einar let out a sharp, short laugh....
Ameena smiled, but this time, it was different.
She wasn’t teasing anymore.
Her eyes softened, lingering on him in a way that made his breath catch.
The silence between them stretched, not empty, not heavy, but expectant.
Einar had always been able to hear the thoughts of those around him.
A curse, a burden he had never been able to silence.
But with her...
Nothing...
Only warmth. Only quiet.
She was the one thing that had never pulled at his mind.
But now...
He felt something.
The way she looked at him...
Not with fear, not with reverence, but with something else, something certain.
And, for the first time in centuries...
He wanted.
Wanted to stay in this warmth, in this moment...
In the place where the ice had melted and something else had taken root.
Something he could not deny.
Ameena reached forward, not hesitating, not asking.
Her fingers brushed against his, barely a touch, barely anything.
And yet...
Einar shuddered.
Not from cold.
But from the quiet, aching realization that he did not want her to leave.
He didn’t pull away.
...
She didn’t move.
Ameena’s voice was softer now, but unshaken.
"What do you want to do today, Einar?"
The question lingered between them...
Einar had never been one to ask himself such things.
What he wanted... Never mattered.
There had always been the cold. The chains of responsibility wrapped so tightly around him that he had long since forgotten what it meant to desire something just for himself.
But today...
Today was warm.
The ice had retreated, his body was light, his breath no longer curling in mist.
The frost had melted away.
Even if only for a moment.
Ameena shifted slightly, her fingers still resting against his.
She had not pulled away. She never pulled away.
His gaze lowered, watching the way her hand sat in his...
Open, steady, waiting.
She was not asking him to take it. She was simply offering.
His fingers tightened around hers, slow and deliberate.
Ameena’s lips parted slightly, but she did not speak.
She didn’t need to.
For centuries, he had believed himself untouchable.
Trapped in ice, beyond the reach of warmth.
Bound to an existence of cold, of restraint, and silence.
His touch lingered, and Ameena exhaled...
The sound barely audible, her eyes searching his.
He could hear everything...
The thoughts of others...
Their unspoken words...
But not hers.
Not once.
And yet, in this moment, he didn’t need to.
Because he could feel it.
The quiet pull between them.
The warmth lingering in the space where their hands met,
where his fingers traced the curve of her jaw.
This was not meant to last.
The warmth in his limbs...
The absence of frost, it was fleeting.
He would return to winter soon.
He had to.
But today…
Just for today…
Ameena closed the distance first.
Or maybe he did.
It didn’t matter.
Because when their lips met...
There was no hesitation, no cold, no restraint.
Only warmth...
Only spring....
