Frosty feathers of heart & A touch that ignite

it is true,

It is real,

Elsie's really going to marry someone whom she has never once in her life got a glimpse of, to someone she barely knows through some faceless people. Yet here she is, feet rooted in the shiny marble of her courtyard, watching the guards, from some other kingdom, which she will be wed into shortly, dressed in gold and royal red from head to toe, pushing enormous golden garages past their palace gate. The drag of its wheels against the snow-shrouded floor, sluggish.

As they get closer and closer, Elsie's heart picks its palpitation. Abruptly, some unknown power decides to clog her throat with raw cotton, making it hard for her to swallow her apprehension.

She sees the slight movement of Misae from her side before she feels her hand soothing up to her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Elsie sighs, fluttering her eyes close as she hangs her head low.

Misae's fingertips dig over her flesh once more and she looks up, then to her side, and into her eyes. "It will go just fine." Misae mouths, or whispers, Elsie's too out of it to even hear.

"Elsie, come here." Her father, who's standing a few strides ahead of Elsie, turns, waving a hand toward himself.

Elsie's jaw grinds as she takes in the King's clearly unaffected demeanor, shining in his white and golden royal robe. The silver crown that sits atop his gray hair speaks to Elsie about the undying heavy responsibility he's roped down by. Once again, a voice in her head calls, you will be disgrace of a daughter if you dare to blame him

And she knows, she can't.

The carriage is pulling over to the courtyard when Elsie steps beside her father. One man, tall and graceful, who screams to be one of the King's trusted guards, stages forward. "Good morning, your Majesty." he bends himself, spine curves in a deep bow, long hand splayed on his expansive chest.

His father nods his head curtly, an amicable smile blooming on his pale pink lips, "Welcome to Sevannah." he says.

"Not going to lie here, but I can't seem to ignore the clear fact that I could not be this gloomy as you after seeing an enormous elevation of jewels and pearls and fine silks." Jang-mi, Elsie's half-sister, says from where she sits herself on Elsie's bed.

Elsie heaves out a sigh, for what feels like the thousandth time that night, just in the span of talking to her little sister. "You're too young to see through their dark intentions, my love, blindsided by the luxury the King had shown upon us. And I'm sure that is precisely what he wanted. To manipulate."

"I'm not, I'm sixteen, sister. I could be getting married in just two years."

"I didn't get married when I was eighteen." Elsie muses, sensing the muted whine underlying her stern tone.

Jang-mi huffs, squinting her fiery orange eyes at him. "That's because father loves you more."

"I can clearly sense his love for me now that he's marrying me off to a literal beast." Elsie cannot help the bite in her voice, cannot soften the sharp edges of her words that push their way out of her mouth, leaving a metallic taste on her tongue.

"You know he loves you."

Elsie doesn't say anything to that. Her mind can not seem to weave something that her heart could actually believe.

"You should wish that your future husband is at least handsome, if he were some cold-shouldered ugly bastard you would be doomed." She blows out a long breath, "It's scary to even think."

It is now, two nights after her father had told him Elsie would be marrying the King of North, of Lievca in the upcoming full moon, this moment is the first time her mind has decided to drift close to the point of what the King would actually look like.

Like— how would he be looking?

Will he be han— it doesn't matter.

Anyhow, she replies with a chill in her voice that could match with the weather out there, "Does it matter now? When, I will be dead either way?"

Jang-mi's face drops as if Elsie has slapped her across her face, she gets a look on her face that screams Elsie had somehow managed to knock the goddamn breath out of her chest, and as if she has heard something she was not supposed to hear. "Wha— what. You— what did you say?"

Elsie pales.

She was not supposed to say these things to her—

"The king and queen are waiting for you both to dine."

Elsie's head snaps to her side and sees a maid she recognizes to be one of her sister's, standing before the widely splayed door of her chamber, the maid darts her gaze to Jang-mi the second they lock eyes, and says, "Princess Jang-mi, your mother anticipates you to see her in her chamber before going to the dining hall." her voice calm and polite, unlike the way she gazed at Elsie a moment ago.

Nevertheless, Elsie's just grateful that she has arrived just in time to crack the tension that began to build in the air between them.

Jang-mi groans from hee side, shuffling to her feet and throwing a knowing look at Elsie. "I guess, I will see you there." she says, stepping close and pecking the side of Elsie's face.

"I hope."

Jang-mi rolls her eyes exasperatedly with a shake of her head, long fingers cladded in various shapes of gold jewels curling over her pale pink gown as she walks to the door. "You should hope, sweet sister." You should hope she 's handsome. That's what she means, she hears it in the suggestive shift in her voice.

She hears the short thud of the door, the rustles behind it, and some whispers. she's too used to it to care anymore. Elsie rises to her feet, a sigh slithering past her pink lips, and lets her legs take her to the wardrobes. She doesn't know why, when she 's already dressed in a silver gown that is decent enough to have dinner with her parents. But deep down, something in her that burns and scrapes wants to make it known, maybe if it has a face, it will be of resistance.

Elsie finds herself in the middle of digging into her closet to find something that could frankly be a hard blow in the face of her family. That's the least she could do now.

It's when she's all inclined in her clothes that the knocks sound again on her door. "Elsie, what are you doing in there? They've been waiting for you for so long." Misae's voice pierces through the thickness of Elsie's chamber door and trickles into hee ears in a dull sound.

"I'm coming!" she calls out, ripping her eyes away from the pale blue of his through the golden-edged mirror, and strides them down to his body. With a satisfied grunt, she walks off to the door, and hauls it open.

The moment Misae's eyes tumble on Elsie, a gasp strangles out of her mouth, gray eyes going double in size as if seeing a ghost. "Wha—"

"Did I scare you?" Elsie touches a hand on her shoulder, tilting her head to the side as she looks down at her with a mischievous smile stretching her lips and a deviant glint glazing in her eyes.

Misae shakes her head, swatting Elsie's hand away, and takes a step back, gaze burning with disbelief as she asks, "What have you done?"

"Nothing," Elsie says, still smiling and it feels utterly out of place on her face.

Elsie watches as Misae's jaw ticks under the yellow glow of the dimly lit corridor, she takes a step forward with clenched fists on her sides, "Get in," Misae grabs her by her arms and shoves her in. Elsie doesn't so much as budge. "Get in, Elsie." She shoves her again, and this time it's as harsh as the tone of her voice.

She should be surprised by the force Misae implied on her and succeeded in getting her inside the chamber and throws the door shut with a loud thud. But, Elsie knows better than to mistake Misae as weak merely by her fragile form.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing, Elsie?!" Misae hisses, fags poking through her parted lips.

"Just let go. I'm well aware of my doings, so let me be." Elsie conveys, calm and collected by voice but not by heart.

A groan rumbles out of Misae's ancient caged heart, jaw clenching painfully. "Don't make me rip this mourning robe off of you, Elsie. You know what happens if your father or the Queen sees you like this."

"Nothing worse could come than mating a Killer." Elsie spits, jerking her body away from Misae's touch.

"Elsie."

"I've decided, Mother, you cannot change my stand now." Her eyes are fierce as she glares into hers, phrasing each syllable in rage.

Misae's bony fingers close around her bicep with an ugly snarl, yanking Elsie toward the dressing table. "What are you doing?!" Elsie cries out.

"Just sit." She tones.

Elsie stumbles on the chair, throwing her head to the side to glare at Misae when she manhandles her on the chair. "What in the—"

"You're not wearing this, my sweet Elsie." Her eyes stroll to the mirror and find Misae's. Misae leans over to snatch the golden-handled comb from the table all while holding her gaze. "You're not getting out of your bed chamber looking like a widow."

"Who are you to say that?" Elsie snarls, hauling forward in her chair when she feels the tip of Misae's fingers graze the root of her hair.

"Your mother."