Cracking the Ice Queen's Heart
After the victory party for the Northern Archduke's triumph wound down, I lay in my room and pieced together the story he'd spilled. What came out of his mouth exceeded my wildest expectations.
'Seven goddesses?'
Seven continents. And seven goddesses.
Each continent had launched a holy war in the name of their own goddess, apparently.
'The holy war's just a pretext, of course.'
Anyway, war broke out, and the goddesses selected heroes through oracles to fight for their nations.
'Selected, huh...'
To me, it looked more like summoning. The Imperial hero 'Sawada Riku.' His chuunibyou ravings and word choices screamed modern-dimensional human. I only had one sample so far, but my gut was telling me loud and clear. The heroes from each nation weren't natives of this world—they were from other dimensions.
'This is bad...'
Elina must know the heroes are otherworldly humans. Which means she'd seen right through my lie.
'The silver lining is that she needs me.'
Her attitude during the day made it clear: she'd swallow the deception just to make me hers.
'Maybe I should go apologize tomorrow?'
Best to apologize before she calls out my mistake.
'Best move, sure...'
But I didn't feel like groveling. The way her demeanor flipped the moment she needed me.
On the surface, she hadn't changed much, but my sharp instincts picked it up. And since she seemed to like bold types, apologizing felt all wrong.
"Sigh..."
What to do? Our first meeting got off on the wrong foot, but I couldn't train her like I did Yvonah over something that minor.
Still, jumping straight into conquest felt off somehow.
"Hmm..."
First off, scrap the current approach.
'Decision made.'
Isolate her from everyone else. Make her rely solely on me.
'A cold beauty distrusting everyone but me?'
Irresistible. She'd feel intense anxiety during the process, which should soothe this weird itch of mine.
'Now, how to plant those seeds of doubt.'
Worry about suspicion later. First, embed myself deep in her heart.
Focus on that for now.
'Back to the main gig, huh.'
Obvious, but to worm into someone's heart, you need face time. And to see Elina more, boosting my military achievements was the fastest, simplest way.
'That's exactly what she wants from me—why she's trying to claim me.'
Killing people wasn't something I'd gotten used to... but to grow stronger, I had to off them.
'I'm trash.'
I steeled my mind by branding myself scum inside. As I drifted toward sleep with those thoughts—
"Sigurd, the Archduke summons you."
Chris, was it? The knight had come for me.
His face was twisted in a scowl. No surprise—his lord showing interest in some random newcomer would piss anyone off.
Look at those eyes. Pure killing intent, like he'd lop my head off if he could.
'Glare all you want—what's it gonna do?'
Your lord called for me. I flashed a mocking grin and followed him out.
The northern chill wind slapped my cheeks, but my heart was warm. Opportunity had knocked.
He didn't lead me to the office. It was a small room for receiving guests—connected to Elina's bedroom, a modest parlor for the Northern Archduke.
Crackle—! Crackle—!
The only sound was the firewood popping in the hearth. And there sat Elina.
Armor shed, she wore thin silk pajamas draped in thick fur. Her always ramrod-straight back was slumped, her loose white hair tousled.
"You're here."
A wine glass in her hand. The icy Archduke from earlier was gone, replaced by a weary woman.
Was this a ploy? Or her true self?
'Well now...'
Either way, damn, this was hot. Her figure, hidden by armor, was starkly revealed through the silk.
I'd expected a battlefield-hardened physique. Instead, it was surprisingly slender and soft.
Especially the collarbone peeking from the fur, the curves below. And those massive breasts drawing my gaze.
"Sit. You drink?"
"I won't turn down a pour."
I wasn't much of a drinker, but I accepted. She grabbed the bottle herself and filled my glass.
"Today... thanks."
Casual toss. She avoided my eyes, downing her red wine in one gulp.
"Declaring you'd be my knight in front of those old bastards. Even if it was empty words, it felt good."
"No empty words. I truly chose you."
I stared intently, eyes gleaming. My gaze must've unnerved her; she looked away.
Her cheeks flushed—booze, or my words? Leaving footprints on the frozen gaze of the Northern Archduke.
The thrill was indescribable.
'Cute.'
A bastard ignored all her life. Someone choosing her unconditionally? She had no immunity.
"Haa... Truth is, I was anxious."
She fiddled with her empty glass, spilling her heart. Like the alcohol unlocked pent-up emotions.
"Worried you'd fall for their offers. They've got more money, more power than me. I'm just... a puppet Archduke."
Self-mocking laugh. Exhausted slump.
She set the glass down, covering her face with both hands.
"Every night, I wonder if I'll wake to a blade at my throat. No one I can trust—just hyenas eyeing my throne."
Her voice trembled faintly.
The ruler who commanded the world, whimpering to a fresh commoner.
Lonely. Isolated. I'd picked a fight with the old guard, leaving her truly alone. She had loyal Chris, but...
'She can't show weakness to him.'
Too close. That's why she couldn't.
Now! The moment. I stood and approached her.
"Lady Veronica."
"Uh, y-yes?"
She flinched as I drew near, backing up until her back hit the chair.
The Northern ruler tensing at one commoner man.
'Zero tolerance for men.'
Makes sense—no chances to interact with them.
Men on the battlefield were foes or subordinates. None saw her as a woman.
I took the wine glass from her hand, set it on the table, and enveloped her hand in both of mine. Ice-cold.
"Your hands are freezing."
"Th-the North... it's natural...!"
Her reaction said I could push further. Eyes darting in panic.
"I'll warm them for you."
Serious face, I massaged her hands. Pretending to thaw them, I subtly stroked her knuckles and between fingers with my palms.
My thumbs teasing her palms' centers.
"Ngh..."
A strange moan escaped her. She tried pulling away, but...
'Not a chance...!'
I gripped tight; she stopped resisting. Or rather, went limp.
"I'm drawn to the strong. But..."
I leaned in, eye level. Close enough for my breath to brush her. Her pupils quaked like an earthquake. My reflection in her eyes.
"Strong women who battle loneliness? Even more so."
"Wh-what...!"
Was she baring her soul to me? Or just drunk? Either way, I could lead now.
Her red lips parted. Trying to retort, but overwhelmed by my gaze, words failed.
Her face burned crimson. The ever-icy Archduke now beet red.
"You seem drunk. I'll take my leave."
Classic push-pull. Push too far, and she'd recoil.
Her guard wasn't fully down yet. Slow, steady erosion. But definite.
Like in subculture tales, I kissed her hand's back briefly and stepped away.
Mwah—!
Her skin against my lips: soft.
"...!"
She gaped up at me blankly. Expected anger or ejection, but she just stared at her hand.
Enchanted.
"Sweet dreams, 'my sovereign'."
Words she'd crave. One trap set: 'my sovereign'.
Not her choosing me. Me choosing her. You're not commanding me—I'm choosing to protect you. That nuance tips the power dynamic.
Sober, she'd catch it.
'But drunk, she won't.'
As I left, a small sigh from behind.
"Hoo..."
Breath misty, laced with a chuckle.
Relief? Excitement?
'Got her.'
A crack in her frozen heart. Now, pry it open—only a matter of time.
Heading back to quarters, cold air filled my lungs, but I felt refreshed.
"Next time, she'll beg me to thaw her body instead."
A sly smile curled my lips. Just the beginning.
The conquest to claim this frozen Northern queen.
Even after Sigurd left, I sat there dazed for a while. The warmth lingering on my hand. The feel of his lips.
"Madman..."
I murmured, stroking my hand. A commoner grabbing the Archduke's hand, kissing it.
Les majeste worthy of instant execution.
But I wasn't mad. Just my pounding heart echoing in my ears.
'A strong woman battling loneliness...'
His words lingered. The inner me no one acknowledged—or tried to.
The side even I ignored... pierced by a man I'd known mere days.
"Did I... seem lonely?"
I stared at my reflection in the empty wine glass. Always the strong mask, the fine facade.
Show weakness here, and you're devoured. But before him, the mask slipped.
Exposed, embarrassing... yet comfortable.
'My sovereign...'
His parting words tickled my chest oddly.
Knights pledged fealty before, but his was different. Not for gold, not for honor—something sticky... hot.
"Hoo... Must be the wine."
I shook my head, standing. But my wobbly legs—booze, or...?
I lay in bed, eyes shut, but sleep wouldn't come.
His hot touch. That gaze.
"Sigurd..."
I pulled the covers over my face.