"Fredrick!" A voice called out to the young man who was hefting the chopped log into the wagon. His attention turned to the person as he wiped the sweat on his forehead, it was his friend Paul, however he looked frantic.
"Afternoon, Paul." Fred nodded in his friends direction, resuming his work. "Whats got your knickers in a knot?" He chuckled, upon hearing his own remark.
Paul put his hand up and caught his breath, heaving dramatically.
"Persephone.." He started, his chest beginning to settle from the panting. Fredrick paused his work and gave Paul his undivided attention upon hearing the name. "Somethings happened.." He continued, a look of hesitation on his face.
"What?" Fredrick proded his colleague, moving his hands to his hips.
"Well that.. uhm.." Fredrick was growing impatient with Paul's babbling, though he didn't even hear of what the man had to say, his heart began racing.
"Out with it." Fred was stern with his tone.
"She was forced to spend the night with the King." When Paul said this, Fredrick's heart dropped, it was as if his world stopped, Persi was suffering and he didn't even know. Fred swung the bundle of log from his hands onto the table and let his feet lead him to Persephone, unable to think at the moment.
-
"What's come about you, Fred?" Persi looked up at her friend's face, sensing that his eyes seemed disturbed. But given his daunting statement upon seeing her, something must've happened.
"Why didn't you tell me?" He winced, wearing a look of grimace on his face. "I knew.. I just knew it was a foolish idea letting you come here, I should've done somethin-" He stopped himself from spiralling further and embraced the confused woman. "Did he force himself upon you? Are you hurt?" He caressed her face, and with the pads of his thumbs he brushed the soft skin of her cheeks.
It then dawned on Persi what Fred had been talking about. Though she had no intention of telling him since it wasn't likely he would've found out but it seems as though she underestimated the abilities for the Castle gossipers. She let out a sigh and pulled his hands from her face, holding his hands in a reassuring manner.
"Fred, I'm alright, I'm not to speak on the matter.. But nothing happened." She peered into his eyes, showing that she wasn't lying. The worried man's eyebrows relaxed as he let out a deep breath.
"But everyone is sayin-" He started, the weariness returning to his tone but Persephone placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I know what everyone is saying, but believe me, nothing happened. He just wanted to make a point to everyone, but I slept on the floor." She reassured, smiling at him. He then nodded and smiled back at her to show his understanding.
But something in his heart wasn't satisfied with her answer, she wasn't safe around that man, no matter what he did the night before, his intentions are unclear.
She thought to leave out the bits where he manhandled her which got him bitten, and the fact that she woke up on the bed, to avoid any further issues.
Frerick and Persi had been friends since childhood, and they both knew that there was something between them but it was always left unspoken. But she knew that such a news would devastate him, hence why it wasn't something she thought to mention.
"Don't trust that man, you never know when he'll snap and do something horrible." Fred bumped his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, taking in the moment. "He isn't called the Ice King for no reason." This peaked her inquisitive curiosity.
"Why.." She paused briefly before continuing, "..is he call that?" Curiosity was nibbling at her brain, she so desperately wanted to know, and the fact that Fred knew the whole time was like a weight lifted off her shoulders since this meant that she wouldn't have to ask any of the other maids and look like a harlot with a motive.
Fred rubbed his forehead as if harboring this information burdened him for a while, and he was hesitant to share it with Persi. It was like telling a child a scary story about a ghost that haunted an abandoned building, in said abandoned building. But he knew Persi best and her curiosity was a beastly flame.
"Bastille was 17, youngest of 3 boys in the beloved Augustes Royal family, his oldest brother Kaelen Augustes was to have his coronation that week...when everything changed one afternoon.."
...
They say Bastille was a quiet, introspective boy known for kindness, artistry, and a tendency to see good in everyone. In the Royal family he was known to bring warmth to this cold world, or so his mother, Queen Lysandra Augustes would claim.
On the night of the Winter Solstice Feast — the grandest celebration of the year — Bastille stepped away from the hall for only a moment. He had prepared a small gift for his mother, and was working up the courage to give it to her. That brief absence saved his life… but also destroyed it.
Inside, a coordinated coup unfolded. Wine laced with poison. Guards paid off. Doors bolted shut.
Bastille returned to find the feast hall sealed, flames flickering through frost-rimmed windows. He saw his parents and brothers, choking and collapsing. He struck the glass with his fists until the bones cracked, but he couldn't reach them as the flames were too high and the smoke was too thick.
It was said that King Halvar, Bastille's father, had a brother, Duke Malric Augustes of Eldhollow was the one to orchestrate the entire massacre. All because he wanted the throne.
But Bastille survived. His family did not.
Malric's gruesome efforts in the end was all in vain since Bastille was crowned the next day, all the bloodshed and betrayal all for nothing. But blood still stained the snow.
Something had changed.
His heart turned to ice.
Not metaphorically — not at first. His skin grew colder. His touch, once warm and hesitant, now made others shiver.
His voice lost its tremble. His eyes stopped blinking at pain.
Courtiers said his breath steamed even in warm rooms.
His grief didn't erupt. It froze. And it stayed that way.
The boy who once wept at injured animals now watched executions without blinking. The warm-hearted prince who wrote poetry became a calculating tactician, a ruthless ruler who rooted out the coup's architects with icy vengeance.
He didn't torture. He didn't rage. He simply erased them. Entire noble houses vanished overnight. Their lands were salted, their names struck from record.
When asked why he showed no mercy, his only reply was:
"Mercy is a kindness given by the living to the living. My family lies beneath ice."
The people fear him — and strangely, love him. He brings justice and safety, even prosperity. But joy, warmth, and music have fled from his halls.
They call him the Ice King, thinking it means cold-blooded.
But everyone in Valtgard knows:He was once the warmest soul in the realm.
And the frost is just what's left behind when that warmth was stolen.
...
Persephone's heart ached for the man. His whole life was stripped from him like nothing. His entire family, gone in the blink of an eye.
There was no wonder he was this way.
Persi couldn't stop thinking about it all day as she did her chores. She walked across the cavalry training grounds to access the servants dining hall but the King caught her eye.
He sat by the field, his sword in hand.
He sharpened his sword as if it was the only purpose in life. Persi couldn't help but pity the man.
When suddenly his eyes, captivating as ever, met the young maid's. It seems that she had been shamelessly staring for a while. But he said nothing, he simply watched her, as if she was a little wounded rabbit and he was the apex predator waiting upon her demise.
But Persephone couldn't tear her eyes away even if she wanted to, he was eating her up with his daunting stare. A sudden shill ran down her spine. And all she could think at that moment was that she was lucky to have survived last night, though he proved rather chivalrous with keeping his distance, his true intentions are unclear as it's impossible to read the man.
She broke from the trance he had her in, and walked, earnestly, to the dining room.
As she made haste, she was pulled suddenly by her arm. Her back met the wall in a harsh manner and a yelp left her mouth. Once her vision was stable she glanced at her assailant, though it didn't surprise her to see the King himself towering over her.
"It's seems as though you've yet to learn." He hardened his gaze down at the startled maid, wrapping his hand around her neck, making her breath hitch. "I've tolerated your brazen graze for some time now in the hopes you'd learn, and yet you choose to gawk upon me with your exasperating eyes." Pesephone immediately peeled her eyes away from his, trying to salvage whatever hope she could to weasel her way out of this situation.
"Let me go! I didn't mean to offend you, Y-Your Highness!" She squirmed under his grasp, fearing his thumb that threatened to crush her windpipe. "I was simply lost in my own thought, I hadn't realized..!" She gripped his arm that pinned her against the wall, it was as if he didn't have to use much force but it was heavy on Persi's shoulder.
"Your very presence means to offend me." He clenched his jaw, as he aggressively yanked his hand back out of her grasp, releasing her from the wall. "You must think that somehow you've won my favor after the night before, but let me just tell you that I was amused by you and, therefore, showed lenience. But that is no longer the case and I will make you regret it, do you wish to carry on with your 'white knight' act."
Persephone's heart was beating rapidly and banging against her chest rather loudly as if it was dying to jump out and run away from the King's threat.
She swallowed her pride, scoffing at the fact that he needed to use force to threaten her and ensure his people showed him utmost fear and respect.
Brushing the imaginary handprint of the King off her shoulder, she found herself in a haze but she joined a few maids in the dining hall, hoping to take her mind off of the trouble individual, of whom the fate of the land laid in the hands of.
She found herself walking a tightrope between pity and detest when it came to Bastille. Not to mention he sure as hell was giving her whiplash with his 'gentle'—for his standard— mannerisms that he displayed the night before, versus, the seething anger he seems to simmer in constantly every other time.
With a deep sigh she picked at the dry meat and bread on her plate, finding zero joy in it. But her fellow maids seemed a lot more joyous than she did. Their warm smiles and hearty laughs were refreshing to look upon but emptiness filled her quick.
She wanted to leave the palace.
***
Nightfall approached rather quickly.
And lucky for Persephone, she hadn't seen Bastille for the rest of the day. Which was a blessing in disguise, since he stayed in his study for the rest of the day and even refused meals and tea.
At this point in time the palace fell quiet, everyone was asleep. The young maid laid awake in her single cot, tossing and turning from the thoughts that filled her brain. But she felt restless, so she jumped to her feet and slipped on an overcoat over her nightgown, anticipating the midnight chill.
She felt a bit of a thrill, walking the palace grounds in the middle of the night, scouring the palace in search for things she wasn't meant to covet. And her feet led her exactly where she was itching to go. The library.
As she placed her hand on the doorknob, which stood between her and the courtyard where the library remained tucked away, a sudden chill went down her spine as if winter frost had traced its fingers on the back of her neck.
"What could you be looking for, little bird."