"To love in a world of ice… is to bleed willingly."
---
Six days had passed.
Six days since Lucien Frostveil was taken to the Snow Palace.
He hadn't tried to leave. Not because he trusted the Queen.
But because deep down… a part of him wanted answers. For the first time in years, the cold didn't feel like a cage. It felt like something waiting to be unlocked.
Still, this place wasn't home.
It was a kingdom of ghosts and frozen beauty—where smiles were rare, and trust even rarer.
And yet, in this vast palace of ice, three people now knew his name.
The Queen.
Beautiful, distant, broken behind a thousand years of stillness.
Kaela.
A fire-hearted assassin who flirted with blades and death like it was foreplay.
And then there was him—Lucien.
A boy born cursed, now standing on the edge of something far greater.
He just didn't know if it would save him… or destroy him.
---
Palace Training Grounds – Morning
Lucien stood across from a royal guard twice his size. Snow crunched beneath their feet. A ring of watchers circled them—knights, mages, servants. All curious. All waiting.
He hadn't been challenged. He had been dared.
They thought he was soft. That his power was just myth.
The guard, a brute named Halgrin, sneered. "Let's see if the ice prince can bleed."
Lucien said nothing.
His heartbeat was steady. Cold. Sharp.
"Begin!" shouted the captain.
Halgrin lunged.
The crowd barely saw it—but Lucien moved like the wind between snowflakes. He twisted, dropped low, and slammed his palm into Halgrin's gut.
A blast of frost erupted.
The man staggered back, clutching his chest—his armor now frozen to his ribs, breath stolen from his lungs.
Lucien didn't press the attack. He simply straightened his cloak and turned away.
"Was that... ice martial technique?" someone whispered.
"No," another replied. "That was instinct."
Kaela clapped slowly from a balcony above. "Oooh. Dangerous and dramatic. I love that."
Lucien ignored her, but his smirk betrayed him.
---
Royal Bath Chambers – Noon
Lucien had barely entered the steam-filled room when Kaela appeared from behind a mist-veiled curtain.
She was wrapped in a white robe. Bare feet. Wet hair. Eyes gleaming.
"Seriously? Are you following me?" he muttered.
"Relax," she said, hopping onto the marble edge. "This place is too boring without you."
"You're an assassin."
"I'm a retired assassin," she corrected. "Now I'm more into chaos and conversation."
He rolled his eyes. "What do you want?"
Kaela leaned in. "To ask what it feels like."
Lucien paused. "…What what feels like?"
"The moment you knew you weren't normal. That the snow obeyed you. That people looked at you like a god... or a monster."
He stared at her.
"…It felt like being abandoned by the sky."
Kaela blinked. Her playful grin faded slightly.
"You're more poetic than I thought."
"You're more annoying than I hoped."
They both laughed.
For the first time… it felt real.
---
That Night – The Snow Queen's Study
The Queen's chamber was a frozen library of ancient tomes and crystalline scrolls. Magic hummed from the walls.
Lucien entered silently.
"You summoned me."
The Queen didn't look at him.
Instead, she pointed to a glowing glyph on the table. "This… is your blood."
He approached, curious.
The glyph pulsed with cold light, like a heartbeat trapped in ice. Within it were traces of something older—something buried in bloodlines long lost.
"What is it?"
"A sign of what you could become."
Lucien tensed. "A weapon?"
She finally looked at him.
"No. A sovereign."
Silence stretched.
"You don't trust me," she said.
"I don't trust anyone."
"Then start with this." She stepped closer. "Trust that I want to change this world. That I need someone by my side who can do what I cannot."
Lucien's breath caught.
The Queen's hand touched his chest—over the mark.
The air froze.
"I can teach you to rule the frost, Lucien Frostveil," she whispered.
"But ruling hearts… that, you'll have to learn on your own."
---
Midnight – Tower of Whispers
Far beneath the palace, in a chamber sealed for centuries, ancient seals cracked open.
A figure stepped from the shadows—cloaked, pale, with chains trailing behind him.
He knelt before a frozen statue.
"It is time," he whispered. "The heir of frost walks among mortals. The Queen dares play with fate."
His hands bled onto the altar.
And the ice began to scream.
---
"Not all thrones are made of gold. Some are carved from broken hearts."
---
The next morning arrived cloaked in stillness.
Not the peaceful kind. The kind that came before something shattered.
Lucien sensed it even before his eyes opened. A tension in the air. A hush in the magic surrounding the palace—as though the very walls were holding their breath.
He sat up in bed, the frost mark on his chest pulsing faintly. The cold didn't bother him. It hadn't for years.
But something else did.
His dreams.
They had returned again. Visions of a silver-haired woman screaming in a storm. A child being dragged from bloodstained snow. And a throne—icy, empty, waiting.
Waiting for him.
He clenched his fists.
Today, something was coming.
And he would not face it unprepared.
---
Palace Courtyard – Midday
Lucien trained alone.
His movements were precise, fluid, unnatural—like a dancer sculpted from frost. Each strike of his palm sent small snowbursts outward. Ice cracked beneath his feet. The guards watched from a distance, murmuring.
"He's growing stronger."
"Too fast."
"The Queen shouldn't let him walk free—"
"You say that," Kaela interrupted, sliding down from the balcony, "but he's also the reason the Ember scouts haven't tried to burn this place to the ground yet."
She joined Lucien's side casually.
"Morning, Frost Prince."
"Kaela."
She tilted her head. "You look tense. Bad dreams again?"
He nodded, silent.
"I know something that helps," she smirked.
He raised an eyebrow.
"Training?"
"Flirting."
Lucien sighed. "You're impossible."
She grinned. "And yet you haven't walked away."
---
Inside the Great Hall
The Snow Queen stood before her inner council—advisors cloaked in snow-sigil robes, old men and wise women who had served her for centuries.
None smiled.
One stepped forward. Elder Vaelric, voice sharp as ice. "He is dangerous, Your Grace. If the prophecy is true—"
"I know the prophecy," she cut in coldly.
Vaelric's eyes narrowed. "Then why give him power?"
"Because he already has it."
Another elder spoke. "He could turn on you. He could destroy us all."
The Queen stared past them, her mind elsewhere.
She remembered his eyes. Not when they burned—but when they softened. When he spoke not as a force… but as a boy left behind.
"I have waited centuries for the one the frost would obey," she said quietly. "I will not throw him away because you fear him."
Vaelric bowed stiffly.
"Then may your heart be as unbreakable as your throne, Majesty. Because if you are wrong… the world will fall with you."
---
That Night – Frostveil Library (Secret Wing)
Lucien wandered the older halls, drawn by whispers only he seemed to hear.
A door sealed with frost runes cracked open at his touch.
He stepped inside.
A chamber of crystal shelves and glowing scrolls spread before him—ancient, hidden. He reached for one scroll that pulsed with familiar magic.
"The First Winter Sovereign"
He unrolled it.
> "Born under a sky of bleeding snow, the Sovereign will carry both salvation and destruction. Those who love him will suffer. Those who betray him will burn. And when he claims the Frost Throne… the world will know true winter."
Lucien's breath caught.
Was this... him?
Or a warning?
Suddenly, a faint cry echoed behind him.
He turned—fast.
A wall of ice cracked. Slowly. Painfully. Behind it… a figure moved.
---
Chamber of Sealed Ice
She was curled in a sphere of frost, limbs limp but still. Her hair was silver-white, and her gown shimmered like starlight frozen in glass. Symbols glowed across the walls.
Lucien approached carefully.
She wasn't dead.
She was sealed.
And as he drew near, the sigil on his chest glowed—
The ice shattered.
She fell forward into his arms, body warm, breath shallow, eyes slowly opening.
Pale blue. Ethereal.
She looked up at him.
"…Lucien?" she whispered, as if she'd known him all her life.
He froze.
"Who—"
"I waited... for you..." Her voice was soft. Weak. "You freed me. You're the one... from the prophecy…"
Then she fainted in his arms.
---
Elsewhere – The Cracked Throne
Chains split open across a dead land.
An army of hollow-eyed soldiers stirred beneath moonless skies.
And atop the Cracked Throne of the Forbidden North, the one known only as The Pale King rose.
His voice echoed like thunder made of ash.
"Lucien Frostveil has awakened the Sealed One."
He raised his hand.
"Prepare the Reaping Frost. We march for the Snow Queen's palace. And we leave none breathing."
---
"Every girl who falls for him… adds another thorn beneath the snow."
---
She stirred in his arms.
Lucien held her gently, though his mind raced with a thousand questions. The mysterious girl he had just freed—sealed in a chamber older than the palace itself—breathed softly against his shoulder. Her skin was warm, a stark contrast to the frozen magic that had entombed her.
She looked like royalty.
Yet... something in her magic felt ancient, untamed, and drawn to his like a forgotten echo.
He laid her down on a fur-lined couch in the hidden chamber. A few pale strands of her hair brushed across her cheek like moonlight.
Then, suddenly—her eyes opened.
"Where… am I?" she whispered.
Lucien knelt beside her. "The Snow Palace. You were sealed. Do you remember anything?"
She blinked. Slowly. Confused.
Then her gaze locked onto him again.
"You're... Lucien. The one with the Mark."
His breath caught. "How do you know my name?"
Her fingers brushed his chest, directly over the glowing sigil. "Because I was sealed to wait for you. You're the Key... the Sovereign of Frost."
Lucien's pulse jumped.
The Queen had never mentioned this. No books, no whispers from Kaela. And yet here she was—knowing him before he'd known himself.
---
Later That Night – The Queen's Private Chambers
The Snow Queen sat still at her frost-crystal mirror, brushing her silvery hair slowly. Her reflection flickered—not from magic, but from emotion. She felt it.
The shift.
A heartbeat in the air that wasn't hers. A soul awakening where there should only have been silence.
Then—
The doors burst open.
Lucien entered, his eyes sharp. "Why didn't you tell me someone was sealed beneath your palace?"
She turned calmly. "Because she was never meant to be found."
He stepped forward. "She knew me."
"I know."
"Who is she?"
The Queen stood slowly, her robe trailing like snowlight.
"She was once called the Priestess of the North Star. A girl whose bloodline was older than kings. Her power was unstable. Her heart... too pure."
Lucien frowned. "You feared her."
"No," the Queen whispered. "I feared what would happen if you ever met."
---
Back in the Hidden Chamber
The girl sat up now, her expression more aware.
"My name is Seris," she said softly. "In the age before this one… I was a seer. A voice of prophecy."
Lucien crossed his arms. "Then tell me something I don't know."
She smiled faintly. "You'll fall in love with five women. And one of them will betray you."
His jaw tensed. "That's not helpful."
"You'll still love her."
Lucien turned away.
"You have the power to end winter," she added gently. "Or to bury this world beneath it forever."
"Everyone keeps saying that," he muttered.
"Then why are you still listening?"
---
The Next Day – Throne Hall
Word spread fast: A girl had been found. A girl with magic older than the Queen's.
Seris now walked beside Lucien through the halls, drawing whispers, gasps, even awe. The way she clung to his arm stirred something in the other women—especially Kaela, who leaned against a column, smirking darkly.
"Two days and he's already building a fan club."
Lucien shot her a warning glance.
Kaela raised both hands. "Don't look at me. She's the one acting like his wife."
"I'm not," Seris said calmly. "I'm his guide."
Kaela's smile faltered.
Lucien stepped between them.
"This isn't a game."
"No," Kaela said, brushing past him. "But someone should remind her that not all girls can handle frostbite."
---
Elsewhere – March of the Dead Frost
Armored footsteps crushed snow. Spears made of glacier shards rose like teeth through the earth. The Pale King stood at the front of his army—his voice a grave wind.
"She is awakened. The chain has begun."
Behind him, black-armored commanders knelt.
"The boy walks with prophecy. The girls gather. Shall we strike?"
He raised a bone-crafted horn and blew—
A sound like a thousand souls screaming tore through the sky.
---
Back at the Palace – Observatory Tower
Lucien sat on the edge, legs over the side of the tower. The world beneath shimmered with snowfall. And beside him... sat two women.
Kaela, sitting with a bottle of wine and sarcasm.
Seris, leaning against his shoulder, quiet and serene.
Lucien closed his eyes.
"I didn't ask for this," he murmured.
"No one ever does," Seris whispered.
Kaela laughed. "You get used to people loving you when you stop caring if they leave."
He looked between them.
Kaela—fire and freedom.
Seris—mystery and prophecy.
And somewhere, in the ice palace beyond... the Queen waited. Silent. Still.
This wasn't a story about power.
It was about the people who came to him because of it.
And the ones who'd eventually make him bleed for it.
---
To Be Continued…