A heavy snow fell, cloaking the royal capital in silver.
It was the fifth day after the Flame Oath, yet the Snow-Flame Palace received an unexpected visitor—a from the Western Wastes, representing the ancient Desert Kingdom once utterly expelled by the Snow-Flame Dynasty. Now calling themselves the "New Flame Pact," they presented a golden invitation, offering to trade the "Bones of Sacred Fire" for permanent trade and military alliance.
Aveline received the envoy in the Hall of Flaming Light. The man, named Samir Zeka, wore a crimson-and-gold robe, his eyes serpentine, though his tone coiled soft as silk:
"We've heard the royal blood has returned, and the Shattered Bones have fallen. Your Majesty Aveline, you might wish to hear… how the Western Flames have reforged faith."
He presented a fragment of bone embedded with violet-black fire crystals—the long-lost "Prayer Bone Core."
Aveline made no reply, only saying: "Stay the night. I'll give you my answer tomorrow."
She turned, her gaze drifting through the palace columns to a familiar figure beneath the distant dark-red fire tower—Lucian stood before a wall of flame, practicing his sword, sweat steaming off him in faint wisps of fire.
She knew what she needed was not mere counsel, but a choice forged in the baptism of desire's fire.
Judgment in the Flames of Longing
Deep into the night, Aveline entered the "Flame Tower Private Chamber." Lucian stirred at the sound, reading her restlessness the moment he turned.
She approached slowly, fingertips brushing his bare shoulder: "Men from the Western Wastes have come, bearing fire bones and temptation."
Lucian pulled her into his arms, murmuring: "You came to me—for advice, or… resolve?"
She tilted her head, fixing him with her gaze: "I want… a way to burn through doubt."
He lifted her suddenly, pressing her against the tower's warm stone, his voice rough: "Then we'll incinerate it the most direct way."
He kissed her lips, and as his tongue slipped inside, she tore off her outer robe, her fire-embroidered gown revealing nothing beneath. He cupped her breast, fingers roaming as his lips trailed from her collarbone to the line of her abdomen, and she began to gasp.
"Say you want me," he whispered against the inner thigh, lips and tongue weaving to ignite her deepest sensitivity. She arched her hips, a hoarse, battle-worn escaping her throat: "Lucian… now… I need you."
He entered her swiftly, his hips driving like a hammer of flame. She dug her nails into his back, feeling his wild rhythm deep within. Each thrust burned away hesitation, melting reason, leaving only the perfect fusion of body and soul.
"Whose kingdom do we serve?" he .
"Flame and snow," she panted in reply, "yours and mine."
He leaned down, forehead pressing to hers, driving himself into her with a final, searing thrust. She erupted like kindling, a high moan tearing from her as the firestorm consumed her.
She trembled and tightened around him, blooming completely, body and spirit laid bare, senses ablaze.
They climaxed together, clinging fiercely as if the world had narrowed to just the two of them.
The Choice Before the Answer
At dawn, she donned her royal robe and stood in the council hall. Nobles and new council members gathered by the hearth, awaiting the royal decree.
She did not look at the envoy as her voice echoed through the hall: "The royal flame shall never lend fire to foreign clans. If the New Flame Pact seeks friendship, they shall submit as vassals, and no bones shall enter the capital."
Samir's expression flickered, but he bowed with a smile: "As you command. The Snow-Flame remains unyielding."
Aveline retreated to the inner chamber, where Lucian met her. She spoke softly: "You gave me the answer last night."
He smiled low: "Then tonight, I'll give you a promise."