Primordial Heir: Nine Stars

The easy laughter with his friends still echoed in Nero’s ears as he excused himself from the pavilion. The moment he was back in the quiet of his room, he pulled out his phone, a small smile on his face.

[Hi! My queen. How was your ’discussion’ with Eltreth?]

Khione’s response was almost instantaneous.

[Boring! It was just a provocation about competing against me for you!] (Khione)

Nero wasn’t shocked. That sounded exactly like the fiery princess. A playful idea popped into his head, and he decided to tease his usually unshakable girlfriend.

[Oh? I’ve become so popular lately? Hehehe! I’m happy. Maybe I should start a harem?]

He hit send, a grin on his face. He waited for a sassy reply, a cold retort, anything. But his phone remained silent. The seconds ticked by. His grin slowly faded. A single, cold drop of sweat trickled down his temple. The silence was deafening. A sense of dread, cold and sharp, began to creep up his spine.

”Uh oh,” he muttered to the empty room.

He was just about to type a frantic follow-up message saying it was a joke when he felt it. The temperature in his room plummeted so fast his breath misted in the air. A shiver, completely unrelated to the cold, ran down his spine. He heard a faint crackle from the door. He turned slowly to see a thick layer of frost spreading across the wood, sealing it shut.

Then came a sound that froze the blood in his veins more effectively than any ice spell: a gentle, polite knock, knock, knock on the frozen door.

Nero gulped. He walked to the door on unsteady legs, his heart pounding. He pulled it open.

Khione stood there. And she was smiling. It was a wide, pleasant smile that didn’t reach her ice-cold eyes. It was the most terrifying expression he had ever seen.

”So,” she said, her voice sweet as poisoned honey. ”You were saying?”

Nero stood rooted to the spot, his mind blank. Every clever excuse, every attempt at a charming apology, vanished from his brain. He was a man who faced down powerful foes without flinching, but before this smiling, furious ice queen, he was utterly paralyzed.

”Why aren’t you speaking?” she asked, tilting her head. ”Cat got your tongue, Harem King?”

She stepped forward, pushing him back into the room with a single finger. The door swung shut behind her with a definitive click. The temperature continued to drop. Frost was now forming on his windowpanes.

The next twenty minutes were a masterclass in terror. Nero didn’t stand a chance. He stumbled over his words, begging and apologizing as Khione advanced on him, her smile never wavering. She didn’t yell. She didn’t need to. Her quiet, pointed questions and the arctic atmosphere were far more effective than any shout. He promised he was joking, swore he only had eyes for her, and vowed never to use the word ”harem” again in his life.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the terrifying smile on Khione’s face softened into a genuine, small one. The deep chill in the room began to recede.

”Good,” she said simply.

Seeing his chance for redemption, Nero grabbed a pillow from his bed and playfully tossed it at her. It was a desperate, hopeful gesture.

It worked. The last of the tension shattered. A real laugh escaped her lips as the pillow bounced off her shoulder. She snatched another pillow and swung it back at him with surprising force. Soon, the room was filled with the sounds of laughter and flying pillows. They were two of the most powerful young people on the continent, having a full-blown pillow fight, diving over the bed and ducking behind chairs.

When they finally collapsed onto the rug, breathless and surrounded by fallen pillows, the mood had completely shifted. The fear was gone, replaced by their usual comfortable warmth.

”I’m hungry,” Khione announced, standing up and brushing off her clothes.

She walked over to the small kitchenette in his room. Nero watched, surprised, as she began pulling out ingredients. Khione was famously a terrible cook. But recently, in secret, she had been taking lessons from the chefs in the Leclair estate. It was her quiet way of trying to do something nice for him, to create a normal, couple-like moment amidst all the chaos.

The simple meal she prepared—buttered noodles with a little herbs—wasn’t fancy, but it was edible, a huge improvement from her past attempts. They ate it sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed, surrounded by the evidence of their pillow fight. The conversation was light and easy, the earlier drama completely forgotten. For Nero, this simple, slightly messy meal, made just for him, meant more than any grand romantic gesture ever could.

”Give me a massage!” Khione said, her voice a soft command as she settled comfortably on the rug, leaning forward slightly.

Nero nodded with a smile. ”Of course, my queen.”

He knelt behind her, his hands resting gently on her shoulders. He could feel the residual tension there, a lingering tightness from her confrontation with Eltreth and the stress of the political games swirling around them. He started slowly, his thumbs finding the knots at the base of her neck. He applied firm, steady pressure, working in small, deliberate circles.

Khione let out a soft, contented sigh, her head drooping forward. The last of the day’s stress seemed to melt under his touch. He worked his way outwards, along the tight cords of her shoulders, using the heels of his palms to smooth out the tension. His hands were warm and surprisingly skilled, knowing just where to press to release the built-up strain.

He moved down her back, his fingers tracing the line of her spine through her shirt. He could feel the powerful muscles there, the same ones that allowed her to wield her incredible ice magic with such precision. Now, they were slowly relaxing under his care. He focused on the area between her shoulder blades, kneading gently until he felt the last of the stiffness give way.

The only sounds in the room were their soft breathing and the faint rustle of his movements. There were no words. None were needed. This was a different kind of conversation, one of touch and trust. For Khione, it was a feeling of being cherished and protected. For Nero, it was a quiet act of devotion, a way to show he was her sanctuary from the world, just as she was his.

After a long while, when her shoulders were completely loose and her breathing was deep and even, his hands stilled, simply resting warmly on her back.

”Thank you,” she murmured, her voice thick with relaxation.

”Anytime,” he whispered back.

They stayed like that for a few more peaceful moments, the quiet intimacy of the massage sealing their connection more firmly than any words ever could. The world outside, with all its schemes and dangers, felt very far away, however, this was about to change soon. The ice queen fell asleep soon afterward, leaving Nero alone. He observed her sleeping face and he must admit it: she looks beautiful when she sleeps.