The Ice Queen Warmed Up To Me

The fever came quietly this time.

No dizzy spells. No nosebleeds. Just a slow-burning heat behind my eyes and a haze that clung to my body like mist.

I told her right away.

I didn't try to hide it. Didn't push through like last time. Just walked into our chambers and said, "I think I have a fever again."

Vilo looked at me for one long second.

Then nodded once.

"Rest. Now."

I opened my mouth to argue. She raised a hand.

"That wasn't a suggestion."

And that was that.

---

She moved her work into our room again—papers spread across a conjured desk, maps rolled out on summoned panels, her advisors entering and exiting quietly. She worked in complete control as always, calm and flawless, her fingers dancing over ink and scroll.

Except when she kept looking over at me.

Checking.

Making sure I was still comfortable. Still warm. Still breathing.

She only left once—for a formal meeting she couldn't avoid. And before she did, she adjusted the blankets herself and looked me dead in the eye.

"If you get up while I'm gone, I will burn the bed so you can't ever use it again."

"…Understood."

She came back two hours later and resumed working without saying anything.

Until suddenly, she stopped.

And turned.

"Do you like being with me?"

I blinked. "Of course."

She frowned. "That wasn't hesitation… but it wasn't enough."

I sat up a little. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…" she stared down at her clawed hands, twisting them slightly, "…I want to be perfect for you."

The room went quiet.

"I'm not good at this," she added. "This kind of affection. Romance. I didn't grow up seeing it. I didn't learn it. I rule with fear. I destroy my enemies. I command legions."

She looked at me—eyes sharp but uncertain.

"But with you, I try. I try so hard. And sometimes… I don't know if it's enough."

"It is," I said immediately. "It really is."

"I don't want it to just be 'enough,'" she said. "You deserve better than someone who's just trying."

I reached for her hand.

She didn't flinch this time.

"You trying is what makes it perfect," I said. "I don't need someone who already knows how to love. I need someone who wants to love me. Who chooses to."

Her hand tightened around mine.

She looked away.

"I'll still get better," she muttered.

"I know."

"I'm still going to make mistakes."

"I'll be here."

She stood and climbed into bed beside me—papers forgotten, the meeting postponed. Her arms wrapped gently around me. Her tail curled protectively over our legs. Her forehead pressed to mine.

"You're not allowed to get sick again," she whispered. "I hate how fragile you feel."

"I'll try not to."

She sighed. "I'll be perfect next time."

"You already are."

And for once, she didn't argue.

A full month had passed since my last gift to her.

It had been quiet since then. Peaceful, even.

But that meant I finally had time—time to craft something that didn't serve a purpose, didn't solve a problem, didn't answer a duty.

Just something for her.

A necklace.

Made from polished black crystal gathered from the volcanic caverns near the southern border. Strung with silk wire. Accented with a small silver carving I shaped myself—one tiny dragon wing curled around a moon-shaped stone. Not flawless. Not symmetrical. But honest.

And hers.

---

I found her in the hallway near the war chamber, just after her morning meeting. She was alone, cloak sweeping behind her, head held high. A dozen servants bowed as she passed.

I didn't.

She stopped when she saw me.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

"No," I said, stepping closer, hiding the little box behind my back. "Actually… I made something for you."

She raised an eyebrow. "Another gift?"

I nodded and held it out to her.

She opened the box slowly, her expression neutral.

Then stared at the necklace for a long, long time.

Too long.

I started fidgeting. "If you don't like it, I can—"

"Why?"

I blinked. "Why… what?"

"Why did you make this for me?"

"I just… wanted to give you something."

"That's not a real answer," she said calmly. "Is this part of some ploy? Are you going to ask me for a new wing in the castle? A personal guard battalion?"

I looked her straight in the eyes.

"No. I just wanted to give you something because I love you. That's it."

She was silent.

The hallway felt colder. Not in a bad way. Just quiet.

Finally, she looked back down at the necklace.

"…I'm still not used to this."

"To what?"

"Kindness," she muttered. "Kindness for no reason. I've been given gifts before. Jewelry. Gold. But always with purpose. Always with leverage."

She ran a claw over the pendant.

"This? You gave me this… just to make me smile."

"Yeah."

She looked up at me again, then sighed.

"It's okay."

My chest tightened. "I can make it better—"

"You can't."

I froze.

Then, slowly, she reached up and fastened the necklace around her neck. The dark crystal gleamed softly against her skin, catching the hallway light like it belonged there all along.

She looked down at it, then at me.

"It's not perfect," she said, "but it's mine."

"And that makes it perfect."

She stepped closer, placed a hand lightly on my cheek.

"Don't ever think I'm not grateful. I just… don't always know how to say it."

"You just did."

She scoffed softly. "Next time, I'll try to say it better."

And as she walked away, cloak billowing behind her, the necklace glittered at her throat—

A reminder to everyone who saw her…

That even the Queen of Monsters could be loved.