Yara's POV…
The magic settles instantly, obedient to his will. He does not look away from me as he lowers his hand again.
"You speak boldly," he observes. "For someone so fragile."
I agree, I seemed fragile, at 5'6, he towered above me by almost an entire foot, but if there was anything that could melt ice, it was fire, and that's what I came with.
I smile, small and calm. "Fragility is often underestimated."
Something in his expression shifts. He steps down from the ice stage.
Each movement is precise, controlled, and the ground subtly responds to him. When he stops before me, the difference between us is clear. He is winter incarnate. I am warmth wrapped in mortal skin.
And as he stares down at me, I feel… seen.
"You are not what the council expected," he says quietly.
"Neither are you," I reply before I can stop myself.
That earns me a long look. He lifts a finger as if to touch me, but lets it fall back down.
The silence stretches, thick and electric. I can feel the attention of every immortal in the hall; they're watching closely, watching this single exchange.
Vaelor's gaze lingers on my face, my eyes, my posture. As though he is searching for something.
"Come," he says finally, turning away. "Eirathen will be… unkind to you, if left to its own devices."
He does not offer me his arm, but I follow him anyway.
As we walk further into the citadel, the cold feels less harsh. I can see my reflection in the walls, i am a mortal woman walking beside the powerful Immortal, and I finally understand.
They brought me here to be minute, small, to be silent.
Papa always complained that I was far too stubborn and needed to be taught my place.
But as I glance at Vaelor Draven's stiff self, at the faint tension in his shoulder muscles, I realize something profound.
I will not break, I shall not be molded.
The ceremony hall is just as cold as the entrance of Eirathen in temperature, but in intent, it is much colder.
...…..
It is the day of the wedding
I stand in the center of a podium carved from ice, its surface marked with old covenant runes. Above us, the ceiling is dome-shaped and frozen, icicles looking as if they'd fall anytime. The Immortal Council sits elevated around us in a circle, wearing silver robes, their faces expressionless.
Other immortals are standing on the floor below.
This is not a wedding; it is a ritual.
Vaelor stands opposite me, still as the ice that surrounds us, his hands folded behind his back. He has not looked at me since we entered the hall.
I feel very much like the mortal that I am.
My pulse is loud in my ears. Yet something steadily holds me upright. Maybe it is resolve or maybe it is defiance posed as calm.
An elder councilor, Eryndel Vaelorn, steps forward, his voice echoes as if the runes are responding to his words.
"By ancient covenant and immortal law, this union is decreed. A bond of alliance between realms. A safeguard against war. A binding of power and obedience."
Obedience? To whom? They have definitely got the wrong girl.
The word sinks into my chest, but I smile with resolve.
I now have two plans. One, annoy them enough to send me away, but not kill me.
Two, revive this dead land with my warmth.
I glance at Vaelor then, just briefly. His face remains still, but I sense it, I see his eyes, as though the word struck him too. He doesn't look angry or like he pities me. Its more of awareness.
The councilor continues, reciting laws that forbid affection and intimacy between immortal and mortal. Laws that my parents earlier forged into my brain. This marriage is designed to exist in name only.
When it is my turn to say my vows, the hall quiets further, everyone anticipating what the bold, warm mortal will say. I lift my chin and let warmth steady my breath.
"I, Yara Altharion," I begin, trying to stop my voice from trembling, "enter this union by decree, not illusion. I offer no false reverence, no pretentious devotion. But I will not diminish myself to make this bond easier for others to bear."
There are reactions throughout the crowd. The councillor stares at me, eyes squinting curiously. I saw a small smile on Vaelor's lips, but it was gone as soon as it came.
The runes flare slightly. I should be scared.
I continue, softer now, but no less firm. "I will honor the peace this marriage demands. But I will not lose myself for it."
Vaelor studies me as though seeing me for the first time.
When he speaks, his voice is lower than before.
"I, Vaelor Draven," he says, "accept this bond as law requires."
He says nothing more. But the air shakes when he walks closer. The space between us narrows, and I feel his presence on me like gravity.
Sure enough, there is a pull. Not magical, but it is there. As if instinct demands it.
His eyes are warm when they look down at my hands, the runes vibrate as he takes my hands in his ans ice slowly rises to meet us. My hands in his are son wrapped up in ice.
The final words are spoken by Eryndel, and the covenant is sealed. The ice around our hands disappears into thin air, and the runes shine brightly. It doesn't feel like a covenant, it feels unreal, like I would do this again. It feels like I should have done this sooner.
Marriage.
As the council rises to leave, Vaelor leans in slightly and whispers,
"You are dangerous."
When I look up at him, my heart races and warmth bubbles in my chest.
"Everyone says so, Vaelor," I tell him.
For a split second, he looks amused. But only for a split second.
He straightens up and walks out. The immortal bows and walks behind him as he leaves the hall.
I turned to find Mira to take me to my chambers as the evening was already approaching. She was my only request, that she could be with me in my last moments.