Chapter 33: "The Ice Queen’s Guide to (Non-Toxic) Obsession"

The Art of Breakfast Dominance

Stephanie Redwyne's mornings followed a sacred ritual:

Wake at dawn.

Freeze any maids who dared enter her chambers uninvited.

Plot how to monopolize Grey's attention before Lilia could inflict her "sunshine" on him.

Today's strategy? Breakfast.

"You're late," she declared, materializing at Grey's dorm door with a tray of charcoal-shaped… something. Frost clung to her nightgown, and her hair was a blizzard of rose-gold tangles.

Aizen blinked, squinting at the tray. "Is that… waffles?"

"No," she lied, shoving it into his hands. "It's a tactical experiment. Eat it."

He poked the blackened lump. "Is it safe?"

"I added antidotes."

"Master," Vermis hummed telepathically from under Aizen's pillow, "the poison-to-antidote ratio is 50/50. Thrilling!"

Aizen took a bite. "Mm. Crunchy."

Stephanie's cheeks pinked. "Obviously."

The Library Lockdown

Stephanie's idea of a "study date" involved barricading them in the library's restricted section with ice walls, a mountain of grimoires, and a sign reading DISTURB = DEATH BY SNOWMAN.

"Read chapter seven," she ordered, tossing him a tome titled Advanced Cryomancy: How to Freeze Your Enemies (and Your Feelings). "I'll quiz you."

Aizen glanced at the ice spear she'd nonchalantly placed beside the quills. "Is the spear necessary?"

"Yes."

Two hours later, he'd "accidentally" spilled ink on three pages, melted her ice walls twice, and discovered Stephanie's secret margin doodles of tiny frostblooms with his initials.

"You're distracted," she accused, freezing his chair to the floor.

"You drew hearts on the frost giant illustration."

"Tactical hearts."

The Festival of Frost (and Subtle PDA)

The Winter Solstice Fair was a glittering nightmare of enchanted snowmen, spiced cider stalls, and couples skating on magically reinforced ice. Stephanie hated it.

"It's crowded. Noisy. Romantic," she spat, as if romantic were a synonym for plague.

Aizen smirked. "Then why'd you drag me here?"

"To assert dominance."

She laced her fingers with his, frost spiraling around their joined hands to deter interlopers. When a giggling first-year tried to offer him cider, Stephanie's glare flash-froze the cup.

"She was twelve," Aizen muttered.

"And dangerous."

The Sweater Incident

Stephanie's knitting phase began after discovering a "How to Enchant Your Lover (With Yarn!)" library book. By week's end, Aizen owned seven sweaters:

Sweater #1: Ice dragon motif (breathably flammable).

Sweater #4: Glowing runes that spelled MINE in Old Celestial.

Sweater #7: Permanently frostbite-proof (tested on Kael).

"It's… cozy," Aizen said, wearing Sweater #4 as Lilia's divine magic singed the hem.

Stephanie snipped the burnt threads with ice scissors. "I'll incinerate the next fool who touches you."

"It was an accident!"

"Premeditated accident."

The Midnight Snack Sabotage

When Aizen mentioned craving honey tarts, Stephanie raided the kitchen at midnight. The result? A battalion of ice golems shaped like pastry chefs, a half-frozen soufflé, and a very confused Sir Spicy licking batter off the walls.

"I followed the recipe," she said, presenting a lumpy tart.

Aizen bit into it. "Perfect."

"Liar."

"Perfectly yours."

She thawed just enough to hide a smile.

The Yandere's Weakness

Stephanie Redwyne had one vulnerability: naps.

After days of overexerting her magic to "protect" Aizen, she collapsed mid-lecture, her head drooping onto his shoulder. He draped his (her) sweater over her, ignoring Vermis's telepathic cackling.

"The Ice Queen, brought low by… cuddling? Poetic!"

Quiet, Aizen thought, brushing a curl from her face. She's plotting world domination.

Stephanie mumbled, half-asleep, "If you leave… I'll… freeze time itself…"

"Not going anywhere," he whispered.

"Good."

Frost and Embers

As the chapter closed, Stephanie added a new rule to her How to Keep Your Human guide:

Rule #42: Honey tarts > ice spears. (But keep the spears. Just in case.)

Aizen found it tucked into his grimoire, doodled with frostblooms and a tiny Sir Spicy.

"Master," Vermis said, "you're doomed."

"Yeah," he said, smiling. "I am."