~ Ice Cold ~

It felt like the warmth of a crackling fire in a hearth. The sensation crawled over every inch of her skin, enveloping her entirely in a wave of heat. For some reason, Winter felt as if her body was fighting against it. Her temperature teetered between dangerously warm to dangerously cold. A bitter cycle that made Winter feel nauseas. She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat and was overcome with a sense of shame.

She had thrown her guts up at breakfast in front of the King. On top of that, she soiled her brand new velvet dress with regurgitated chocolate cake and apple pie. The King had sent for the Royal Physician and she was now undergoing a thorough medical examination.

Suddenly, the hot and cold sensations stopped altogether. The bright white light that illuminated the crevices and nooks of the room had faded to a state of nothingness. In "The Cursed Winter" almost everyone had mana. However, only those with access to proper education could learn how to properly use it. Owing to this, the majority of magic users were nobles and aristocrats since commoners couldn't afford proper tutors.

"It appears that Her Highness is extremely malnourished." The Royal Physician said after conducting an examination using magic. "She is unable to process regular food, so she should eat..."

Winter couldn't focus on his words. She couldn't help but feel as if her body was fighting off his magic somehow. He told her it would feel warm before he began, but the sudden surges of cold were inexplicable. She closed her heavy eyelids and tried to dig up memories of the story that would explain what she was feeling, but her mind turned up blank. She shivered. Her body had once again faded to a cold numbness.

"Winter," Aiden said worriedly. Winter watched as he climbed under the sheets beside her and clung onto her arm. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes." She told him in between heavy breaths. "Don't worry about me. How about you, do you feel like throwing up?"

His golden curls bounced as he shook his head side to side. She found herself smiling slightly as she thought of wheat fields dancing in the wind. He glanced at her worriedly, but she smiled sweetly and patted his soft head with a shaky hand. Their relationship was more like mother and son rather than brother and sister. Winter couldn't treat him as an equal. Not when she was mentally more mature than him. How old was Aiden anyways? Six? Seven? She couldn't even remember. Time in the attic passed in a jumbled blur of beatings and stale loafs of bread.

"Why do you feel so cold?" He asked her with a solemn expression.

Winter felt her stomach drop. She never wanted to see him wear that kind of expression again. She wanted him to be happy. She wanted him to smile and laugh. Winter desperately wanted for Aiden to realize that they were no longer trapped inside that cramped attic, but she knew the scars of their childhood wouldn't fade away. Not even with time. She had had multiple childhoods, but Aiden would only get this one. It broke her heart that it was filled with nothing but pain and anguish.

"You two rest now." The King said in a tone that made it sound more like a command rather than a request. "Once you wake up, you can come outside."

Outside. For some reason, the word sent shivers down her spine.

~***~

Winter deduced that when King Caderyn said outside, he did not truly mean outside. The sound of the metal swords clashing was enough to shatter her ear drums. The Silvermondian Knights were like ragged beasts who thirsted for blood. They were war crazy killers with little regard for manners or simple decency. Yet for some reason, the King and Aiden had the same expression of wonderment plastered across their strikingly similar faces when watching them.

"Pathetic." Winter muttered under her breath. She truly hated the sound of swords.

"Choose one each," The King said while gesturing towards the training grounds. "The one you choose will be your personal knight from now on."

"I refuse." She said coldly.

The last thing Winter wanted was a knight. She had worked so hard to put on and polish her own armour, hiding the version of herself that was so vulnerable to pain and soft with emotion. She willingly lost her humanity in exchange for her brother's protection. Be it physically or emotionally, she had worn herself down completely to keep him safe. She worked so hard to protect Aiden. In the end, the only one who could protect him was her. It was them against the world. An expression of disappointment flashed beneath the surface of Aiden's pale green eyes.

"Yeah..." Aiden said softly. "I can't."

Aiden watched Winter's eyes. Although her face remained expressionless, her eyes were like windows that showed her every passing emotion and uncertainty. He could understand how she was feeling and what she was thinking just by looking at them. Although he wanted to, he couldn't. By choosing a knight, he would be betraying the one who had kept him safe for all these years. He slipped his hand into Winter's. Her familiar touch felt reassuring amongst the chaos.

The King let out a deep sigh. He understood that he might never be able to understand his children the way they understood each other. The horrors and abuse they faced were worlds away from what he could grasp and understand.

"Winter." He said softly while kneeling down in front of his daughter. "I understand that you and Aiden have protected each other all these years, but it's okay now. You have to trust that I'll keep you safe. I won't ever let that stuff happen to you again."

Winter glared at him with flames dancing on the surface of her irises. "You will never understand."

"Please," He begged. "Let me do this one thing."

Winter sighed. Her body felt cold.

"Fine." She pointed a finger at a young teenage boy. "Him. I'll choose him."

Truthfully, Winter could recognize the boy from a mile away. Ezekiel Rothmore. The boy looked no older than fourteen years old, but the look in his eyes was distorted in a way that told tales of old age. Winter knew that look all too well. The look in his eyes was the look of someone whose seen endless nightmares.

The boy had ebony black hair that reminded her of dark ink and golden eyes that glistened with determination. There was no doubt about him. He was Sir Rothmore, a boy who will grow up to be one of the Empire's most skilled swordsman.

Ezekiel Rothmore. The man who will help her brother murder the King and rise to power.