Heart of the Winter King

One Month

The grand hall of the Winter Court felt even colder now, the icy air wrapping around Aeon like a vice. She could feel it sinking into her bones, numbing her hands and feet, but she forced herself to remain calm. The Winter King had not rejected her outright, but neither had he shown any sign of willingness to accept her proposal. His expression remained as impassive as the ice surrounding them, his gaze cold and distant.

Aeon took a slow breath, steadying herself. She had to stay focused. This was the moment she had prepared for, the moment where diplomacy would be tested against the sheer force of Aelion's icy indifference. She had faced powerful leaders before, men who ruled with iron fists and who thought little of human life. But Aelion was different. He was ancient, beyond the mortal understanding of power and control. Convincing him to accept peace would be like trying to melt the very ice he ruled over.

Still, she had to try. Too much was at stake.

"Your Majesty," Aeon began, her voice carefully measured, "our kingdoms have been at odds for too long. The bloodshed along the borders continues to take lives, on both sides. This cycle of violence can't continue, not without irreparable harm to both our people."

Aelion's eyes remained fixed on her, unreadable. He made no move to respond, no flicker of emotion crossed his features. Aeon felt the weight of his silence pressing down on her, but she pushed forward.

"We seek to establish new trade routes," she continued, choosing her words carefully. "To create an agreement that benefits both our realms. Our kingdom is rich in resources—grain, wood, medicines—that could aid your people during the harshest times of winter. In exchange, we would offer peace and the cessation of raids from both sides."

The silence in the room deepened. The courtiers who lined the hall watched her with varying degrees of interest, their pale faces reflecting the icy cold of their king. Aeon could feel their scrutiny, but none of them moved, none of them spoke. They were all waiting for Aelion.

For a long, agonizing moment, Aelion remained still. Then, slowly, he rose from his throne, his movements graceful, like the drift of snow in the wind. He stepped down from the dais, each step deliberate and silent as he approached her. Aeon's heart pounded in her chest, but she held her ground.

When he stopped before her, towering over her by a full head, he regarded her with the same cold, calculating expression he had worn since she arrived. His presence was overwhelming, the air around him charged with a power that was both ancient and unyielding.

"And why," Aelion said, his voice as cold and sharp as the winter wind, "should I care for peace with your people?"

Aeon swallowed, the weight of his gaze pressing down on her. "Because war will cost us all dearly," she replied, her voice steady. "There has been too much suffering already, and more will only lead to ruin. We can avoid that. Together."

Aelion's lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile, though it held no warmth. "You speak as if suffering matters to me."

Aeon felt her breath hitch. She had expected resistance, but this was worse than indifference. It was as if he didn't see the conflict as anything more than an inconvenience, something beneath his notice.

"I know you are not untouched by the suffering of your people," she pressed, refusing to let him dismiss her so easily. "The Winter Fae may endure the cold, but that does not mean they should be forced to live in constant strife."

Aelion tilted his head slightly, as if considering her words. His eyes, however, remained cold, unfeeling.

"You speak of peace as though it is a simple matter," he said, his voice low. "But you forget that your people have raided our lands, stolen from us, just as much as we have from you. What makes you think that peace is possible, when neither side has shown mercy?"

Aeon's mind raced. She had to find a way to break through his indifference, to make him see that peace was not only possible, but necessary. She knew he was testing her, waiting to see if she would falter.

"We can start anew," she said, her voice firm. "The past does not have to dictate our future. If we are willing to negotiate in good faith, to make compromises, then there is a way forward. I am here to represent that possibility."

Aelion's gaze remained steady on hers, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something that suggested he was listening, even if only out of curiosity. Aeon seized the moment.

"Your people deserve more than this endless winter of war," she said, her voice softer now, but no less resolute. "They deserve to thrive, to live without fear of the next battle. And so do mine."

Aelion was silent for what felt like an eternity. Aeon could feel the tension in the room, the weight of every pair of eyes on her, waiting for his response. She could see the doubt in the courtiers' faces, the disbelief that a mortal could stand before their king and speak of peace as though it were an achievable goal.

But then, Aelion did something unexpected. He stepped closer to her, so close that Aeon could feel the cold radiating from him like an icy wind. His presence was suffocating, overwhelming, but she stood her ground.

"You are bold," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "To come here, into my court, and ask for peace."

His eyes bore into hers, sharp as shards of ice, and Aeon felt as though he were peering into her very soul. There was something dangerous in his gaze, something ancient and untouchable.

"I will entertain your request," Aelion said at last, his words slow, deliberate. "But on one condition."

Aeon's heart skipped a beat. "What condition?"

Aelion's gaze never left hers as he spoke. "You will stay here. In my palace. For one month."

Aeon's breath caught. One month? In this place? The thought was both terrifying and impossible to refuse. She had come here with the hope of securing peace, of finding her brother, and now Aelion was offering her a chance. But staying here—so deep in the heart of the Winter Kingdom—was not without its risks.

"And in that time?" Aeon asked cautiously.

"In that time," Aelion said, his voice as smooth as ice, "you will see what it means to rule a kingdom like this. You will understand the weight of what you ask."

He stepped even closer, his cold breath brushing against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine.

"And if, after one month, you still believe that peace is possible," Aelion continued, his voice now a whisper, "then perhaps I will consider your terms."

Aeon stared at him, her mind racing. It was a test, a game, and she knew it. But what choice did she have? This was the closest she had come to making progress, the closest she had come to finding a way forward. She could not walk away now.

"I accept your condition," she said, her voice steady despite the cold creeping into her bones.

Aelion's lips curved into that same, faint, cold smile. "Then it is settled. You will be my guest for one month. And we shall see if your ideals survive the winter."

With those words, Aelion turned and walked back to his throne, leaving Aeon standing in the center of the hall, her heart pounding in her chest.

She had come seeking peace, and now she had to live in the heart of winter to prove it was possible.