Frost Heart → druig, marvel

Chapter 6: The Charm

2024 - France

In the dimly lit pub, Ayaz sits slouched in a corner booth, staring blankly into the amber liquid of his pint. His two friends, Louis and Francois, are deep in conversation, their words growing heated as they discuss Francois’s abusive stepfather. Their voices are loud enough to catch Ayaz’s ear, but he’s not listening. His mind is somewhere else—somewhere far from the grime of this Parisian dive, far from the company of his mortal friends.

It’s been years since Druig. Yet the pain of his absence lingers in Ayaz’s chest, as if it had only just happened. The frost-hearted—that’s what Druig used to call him, with that sly smile, knowing better than anyone the fire that truly raged inside Ayaz. The memory twists the knife deeper. His heart clenches, and even the alcohol can’t numb the ache. The man who made immortality bearable is gone, and for Ayaz, it feels like a winter that will never end.

Francois’s voice cuts through his thoughts. “One of these days, I’m gonna smash his face in,” he growls, his hands clenched into fists on the table. Ayaz doesn’t look up, but he catches the sharp edge in his friend’s tone.

“Are you mental?” Louis retorts, glancing nervously around the room. “He’ll get that lot to deal with you, and you’ll be dead before you know it.” Without thinking, Louis gestures towards a group of gang members at a nearby table. The leader, a hulking man with a scowl as permanent as the scars on his face, notices the gesture immediately.

“What you saying, loser?” the gang leader barks, rising from his seat with a famous grimace that promises trouble. “Think you can chat shit about us and we won’t do nothing?”

Francois, either brave or stupid, meets the man’s gaze with a defiant sneer. “Pretty much, yeah.”

Ayaz watches the exchange unfold, his mind still clouded by memories of Druig. He takes a slow sip of his drink, feeling the cold liquid slide down his throat. Let them fight, let them tear each other apart, he thinks bitterly. None of it matters. Nothing matters anymore.

The gang leader looms over Francois, towering above him. He’s twice the size of Francois, and Louis, sitting next to him, looks like he’s about to faint.

“Leave it, dude,” Louis mumbles, tugging at Francois’s sleeve. “Let’s just go. They’re not worth it.”

Francois remains seated, glaring at the gang leader with reckless defiance. There’s a part of Ayaz that admires his friend’s boldness, even if it’s misplaced. Stupid, but brave. A little like Druig. Ayaz’s chest tightens at the thought.

The gang leader grabs Francois by the collar, pulling him out of his chair. His fist is raised, ready to deliver a blow that could end the fight before it begins, when Ayaz finally intervenes. He stands slowly, flashing a disarming smile that’s equal parts charm and danger.

“Easy there, pote,” Ayaz says, his voice smooth and teasing. “I apologize for my lads’ wild behavior. They’re a bit low on manners, I admit. Let them slip just this once, yeah?”

The gang leader pauses, his fist still hovering in the air. Something in Ayaz’s tone, in the casual confidence that radiates off of him, makes the larger man hesitate. Slowly, he releases Francois, muttering under his breath. “Just this time.”

Ayaz gives a small nod, gesturing for his friends to follow as he heads for the door. As he passes the gang leader, he bumps his shoulder intentionally, leaning in close to whisper seductively, “Just this time.”