Bells rang in the air, joyous and proud, singing praises you didn't entirely understand. People cheered in the streets, cheered in the grand hall as you were plucked up and kissed by your husband. You couldn't see his face for some odd reason you didn't understand, but you could feel his body through your white gown. The fur wrap you wore tickled at your bare skin, your husband's laugh light and airy, lovesick in your ear as he carried you from the hall, held close to him in his arms.
He set you down on the floor not too long after, and took your hand in his, settling his other hand on your waist. He whispered something you vaguely heard, the words muffled and distorted.
You both began to move.
A familiar dance, as you were guided through the steps wherever he desired, down the hallways, and carefully up the stairs. He spun you around and around, twirling you under his arm, his hand a steady comfort on your waist.
A great feeling of love and compassion bloomed in your heart as he pulled you flush against him, his lips somewhat cold on yours. It was soothing, that cold. Your lips felt like they burned, your entire body felt like it burned.
And if it came down to it, you would gladly burn yourself from the inside out, if it meant you could keep him forever. Of course, you wouldn't have to. He was yours, and you were his. Husband and wife, male and female, bonded through sacred matrimony. You would never have to worry about him leaving you behind, never have to worry about him wanting other women.
Why should he when he had you?
His darling little wife, his snowflake, permanently by his side.
Why did that sound so familiar, that nickname. Snowflake.
It sounded right. It sounded like it belonged to you. And you alone.
Your thoughts were shaken away when you were once again pulled flush against him, a feeling of falling consuming you.
You never hit the floor.
Why should you hit the floor? He held you flush against his body, his hand a firm grip on your back as he held you in that dipped position.
He said something. This time, you could understand a small piece.
"Can you imagine this palace... filled with laughter from children... our children? I've been wanting to see you... round with life, our children. I'm glad it's you to carry our heirs... instead of someone else."
You were unable to identify his voice.
•☆▪︎▪︎▪︎☆•
Your pillow was rising and falling. And surprisingly somewhat cold. Last you checked, pillows were not like this.
Cracking open an eye, you looked up and gasped at seeing Kaeya of all people, holding you close, and fast asleep. He breathed deeply, his breath as cold as his body as it hit your shoulder. You shivered, pulling his cape closer to your body. Why was he so cold?
You looked back up at him, admiring his face. It was soothed into a peaceful state, almost appearing lazy, content. He looked so serene and almost ethereal. You might even say out of place in this world. He stirred, inhaling deeply as he opened his eye.
Kaeya glanced down at you, his cheeks flushing a bit.
"I wasn't expecting you to wake up before me, snowflake," he murmured, his voice deep and raspy, much more than normal. So this was the famous morning voice that so many women would titter about. The one that many of them claimed to enhance their significant other's attractiveness.
YOU ARE READING
King of Lies
Fanfiction(BOOK 1) Kaeya was a male of ice. He might be cold in many ways, but he was never cold with you. He was warm, friendly, and even a gentleman. As you travel across Teyvat, Kaeya's ice-cold heart begins to melt. And it has nothing to do with the Hydro...
