Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Flashback

"Your mother is terrifying. If looks could kill, I'd already be six feet under," Foeslayer said, as seriously as someone like herself could manage. For a moment, their knuckles touched, but to Arctic’s disappointment, she pulled back.

"I would've been dead for years now if that were the case," Arctic replied, nearly breathless from how much he'd laughed already, masking his disappointment.

Despite that, his laugh was real. Uncontrollable laughter that made his side ache and his face hurt from the smile he just couldn't keep behind a wall of ice.

They'd only been talking for five minutes, ten at best. And yet it felt like hours, not in the way boring things felt long, but in the way time stretches when you're exactly where you're supposed to be. That's what it felt like with Foeslayer. She could ramble on and on about everything and nothing at all, and he’d sit there, listening and memorizing every word.

Was this what love felt like? Falling so fast that you forgot to be afraid? Wanting the moment to last forever, just so you could stay in it with her?

Foeslayer felt more alive than anything in his frozen world. Her voice, her fire, the way she spoke like no one had ever told her to be quiet, he was enchanted. Every cheeky grin made his heart stutter. Every brush of her hand against him made his breath falter.

He couldn't stop himself from leaning closer.

And he would rather die than leave her side.

"Whatcha got dancing around in that brain of yours?" Foeslayer teased, her voice like a spark that set his heart ablaze. Those otherworldly emerald eyes of hers stared right into his. The same emotions he felt for her reflected in them.

Her knuckles brushed his again. This time, she didn’t pull away. Her fingers curled slightly, open, inviting.

He took the hint.

Their hands slid together slowly, as if something sacred. His fingers laced with hers, and it was dizzying how perfectly they fit.

Like they were made for this.

For each other.

He stared down at their joined hands, then back up at her, eyes wide and bright and full of mischief. For a moment, the ache in his chest was too much to bear. All he could do was wish. Wish for a future where this wasn’t dangerous. Where they could walk away and never look back.

"I wish we could run away..." he whispered.

The words tasted reckless on his tongue. Treasonous. And moons, he regretted them instantly. Not because he didn’t mean them, but because now the idea was real. Now it had weight.

Despite his worries, Foeslayer’s grin only grew. She shifted closer, her free hand rising to brush a strand of his silvery white hair from his face, fingers grazing his cheek in a soft, deliberate touch.

"It's not like it's impossible," she whispered, her breath mixing with his, noses barely apart.

Arctic’s breath caught in his throat. Her touch was like nothing he'd ever felt, gentle and considerate.

His eyes dropped to her lips for a moment too long.

He wasn’t supposed to want this. He wasn’t supposed to want her.

But he did.

Arctic wasn't sure how long they'd been staring at each other, only that his heart was pounding and his lungs felt too tight. He was terrified. Anxious. A thousand thoughts tangled in his head, all of them screaming about how treasonous this all was.

He should pull away. Pretend he didn’t want anything at all.

But his heart beat louder than his thoughts, a steady drum behind his ribs. He wanted her, so much that the wait physically hurt.

And she… she looked like she wanted him too.

Foeslayer leaned in, slow and unsure but steady. Her eyes flicked from his to his lips. She was just as nervous, but her confidence hadn't cracked.

Her fingers slipped away from his to brush along his jaw. Arctic shivered, not from the cold, but from her touch alone. It was so different, so new. It felt like she meant it. Like she wanted him.

“Still thinking?” she asked, voice soft, still teasing, but careful. Asking.

He tried to say something, anything, but nothing came out. All he could manage was to stare back at her, wide-eyed and falling far too fast to catch himself.

He blinked, and her lips were on his.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t clumsy. Her lips met his with certainty. For a split second, he froze against her, stunned that it was actually happening, she was kissing him. But then the world faded, the panic dissolved. All that was left was the way she felt pressed against him. The way her lips moved with his, like they'd done this a million times before.

He melted into her like snow beneath sunlight.

He wrapped his arms around her neck, returning the kiss without hesitation. He leaned in, chasing the heat of her mouth, the softness, the dizzying flutter of it all. It was terrifying, how much he wanted her. But it was also the safest he'd felt in years.

His eyes fluttered open as she pulled back to breathe. He’d completely forgotten he could.

Her gaze stayed locked on his as she leaned their foreheads together, breathing heavily, her thumb tracing his cheekbone in a painfully gentle stroke.

“You can want things too,” she whispered. “Ya know.”

Chapter Text

The door swung shut behind Foeslayer with a slow, sickly creak. Her attempts to sneak in without detection had failed, per usual.

“Why have you come back so late?” The chill in his voice was nearly enough to send a shiver through her bones. Great. Arctic’s pissed and she can barely hold herself up.

“Calm down.” She muttered, choosing that moment to roll her eyes, knowing he wasn't able to see her.

She took in the view of the cold, hollow house that encased her, why was it seeming to be spinning? Thoughts swam around in her head like fish, but they were being quickly drowned out by an oncoming migraine.

Maybe she'd had more to drink than she was aware of. Another thing, that would set Arctic off. "Why were you out so long?" He stood in the entryway to the living room from the hall now. Brow knit together and arms folded in front of his chest.

"Nothin', friends just wantin' me to stay." Oh she was screwed, all her words were slurring together and her head wouldn't stop pounding—

"...You're drunk." Arctic stated flatly, his expression shifting to a scowl. Now he stood, hands on his hips, burning her into the carpet below her feet with his eyes. Which was odd, his eyes were always so cold... tonight it was as if they were a burning blue fire that was coming close to setting off a wildfire, strong, deadly, and destructive.

"Oh lay off me." Foeslayer growled, pushing herself off the front door. Which she'd leaned back into for support. "I'm not fighting with you tonight." Kicking off her boots she slid past him, wobbling her way to the bathroom.

Things were blurry now, spinning faster. The floor beneath her was tilting. The sound of Arctic's voice was muffled... then all of a sudden dark splotches spread across her vision. And then— nothing.

......

Foeslayer awoke the next morning in her bed. Her warm, lovely bed. Unfortunately, the moment of calm lasted a few short seconds.

Her head began pulsing, like little men were pounding hammers against her inner skull. And her stomach. Oh her stomach, it hurt terribly. Foeslayer quickly found herself regretting the amount of alcohol she'd consumed. And now, she would pay the price... from a malicious hangover.

......

As she lay, rotting in bed and her own body. She attempted to distract herself, with a pathetic little moment of hope. Just because Arctic had been the one to get her in bed.

It was sad really, that she was so desperate for her Arctic to return. Any normal act of responsibility seemed huge.

But, for all she knew, he could've simply wanted her out of the way. So he could continue to mope up and down the hall. As he normally did… all damn day.

Foeslayer paused for a moment, listening for him, receiving dead silence in return. He never left the house, he hated everyone outside of it far more than he hated her.

So... why was it so silent?

Being the overthinker she was, Foeslayer began to worry, the possibilities of the silence ranging from him simply being asleep, him having run away back to the Ice Kingdom, or… he'd killed himself.

She hated thinking of the worst, but unfortunately with where he stood, all of those possibilities were likely. Foeslayer wasn't absolutely sure of him wanting to kill himself. But, one of her friends who happened to be a mind reader had informed her his thoughts were... very concerning, to say the least. She could recall the exact words, despite this having been a few months ago.

"I'm not saying this as if it's a fact, but I'd keep a close eye on him, I've never read thoughts so... hateful, he hates everything. But particularly himself..." Duskstar had explained, wringing her fingers as she stole a glance back at Arctic. Who hadn't moved from the fountain, preferring to stare into its rippling crystal waters than be social at their wedding of all things.

"Wha— wait. What?" Foeslayer had asked, whirling around, heart sinking with the implication her friend was hinting at.

"Just so you know, you're not on the hate list." Duskstar added, then she proceeded to clamp her mouth shut a moment, appearing thoughtful before she continued with, "Okay basically it seems his mental health is in horrible shape... and I'm afraid he'll either hurt someone... or himself."

Those words... those words were the very reason Foeslayer was pulling herself out of bed to find her wayward husband...

……

He was perfectly fine. Once again, Foeslayer had completely overthought the entire situation. Although it wasn't exactly something she wanted to deal with a horrendous hangover...

"This is treason! Seriously, when will you quit!?" Foeslayer demanded, slamming the slate message down on the wood that made up their countertop.

Arctic shifted his weight onto his other leg, his eyes not on her but on the stupid slate. The loose folds of his pale, ice-blue clothes shifted with the movement. He always left the chest part open, Foeslayer sometimes forgot he liked being cold. She understood why he did, but the old Arctic hadn't minded warmth at all. Now he just straight up despised it.

“I wanted to hear her out.” He finally answered, keeping his gaze on anything but Foeslayer.

"Holy fucking moons! This is crazy Arctic! Use ya damn head! You're smart! This—" she jabbed a finger against the slate, itching to smash it to pieces and rid Arctic of these traitorous ideas. "—will get you thrown in prison! There is no good reason to fuck around with this shit!!"

“You’re making too big a deal about this.” Arctic grumbled at her, crossing his arms tight over his chest, glaring at the door now as if it was at fault for all of this.

Foeslayer gritted her teeth, turning away to pace, hands placed firmly on her hips. “Your mother is putting a noose around your neck and all you're doing is allowing her to! I will not watch you go to prison, Arctic.”

“I won't go to prison if I don't get caught.” He replied, as snippy as ever. He added something clipped beneath his breath, but she couldn't make it out. Foeslayer felt as though he was slowly draining her sanity. Seriously did he not realize the mess he was getting himself in!?

“You will eventually! And I don't want to watch my husband walk himself into a cell, all because he can't forget and move on!” Foeslayer cried, slamming her fist down on the slate, cracking it in two.

Arctic stared at the slate, biting the inside of his cheek. Now that it was split in two, it almost resembled them, not whole, but broken. “I don't see why this concerns you.” His stare shifted to her, narrowing into a glare, sharp at the edges like a sword. She could see him digging his nails into his arms, hard enough to leave little red crescents behind in his pale skin.

“I'm your fucking wife it most definitely concerns me!” Her voice rose, angry and louder than before. But the more she screamed at him, the more emotionally closed off he became. Hiding behind a mask of stoicism.

Attempting to calm herself she propped her elbows on the counter, head resting in her hands. Trying to take deep breaths as her friends had once instructed her, it helped a little. But not nearly enough. A sharp, cold kind of silence now hung heavy over the broken newlyweds. These types of silences only helped to drive her crazier.

“You don't get it,” he mumbled under his breath, perhaps hoping she wouldn't catch it. He stared at the floor now, arms loosening, but still, his shoulders were tense. “If you would have read it, you would’ve seen she isn't begging me to come home.” He stopped for a mere beat, until Foeslayer lifted her eyes to his own. “She warned me.”

She scrunched her nose up at him, confused, his mother couldn't get him here? He'd enchanted them to be safe from her magic… “What do you mean she warned you?” She asked, suspicion creeping into her tone.

He hesitated this time, actually hesitated, it had to be something actually bad for Arctic of all people to be hesitant before speaking of it.

When he finally decided to speak, the look in his eye made the hairs on the back of her neck stand upright. “The Ice Kingdom is going to war with the Night Kingdom—” Foeslayer froze, eyes wide. She really should've read the slate. “—and I need to choose a side.”