Jackson watched as Elodie settled into the couch, her knight at her side like a silent protector. He sat across from them, waiting for a satisfactory explanation for this unexpected turn of events.
"Well?" He arched an eyebrow, fixing Elodie with a piercing stare. "Care to explain how I ended up engaged to your sister without the common courtesy of *asking* me first?"
Jackson gaped as Elodie explained that Evira had been secretly harbouring feelings for him since the beginning of their engagement. He couldn't believe it. The stoic, untouchable second princess had feelings for *him?*
A mix of shock, confusion, and a strange flutter of... something he couldn't quite put a finger on, flooded through him. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to process this unexpected revelation.
"You—you're telling me Evira harbored feelings this whole time, and *I* didn't notice?" he asked incredulously.
Elodie smiled, clearly amused by Jackson's reaction. "Oh, Evira has always been good at hiding her feelings, even from herself," she explained. "To everyone else, she seems cold and unapproachable, but deep down... she's not as icy as she appears."
Jackson frowned, not quite sold on this idea. "Not as icy? *Evira?* The one who looks like she's never laughed a day in her life?"
Elodie nodded, explaining that Evira's cold exterior was simply a front. "Evira has always been a bit reserved since birth," she said softly. "But underneath that frosty demeanor, she's actually quite shy and sweet."
Jackson felt his eyebrows climb his forehead. "Shy and sweet?" he repeated incredulously. "Are we talking about the same Princess Evira? The one who makes glaciers feel warm?"
"She'd hide behind pillars during court gatherings... peek around library shelves when you studied... even stood silently in the garden hedges just to see you walk by," Elodie said with a soft laugh. "Evira never said a word, never dared approach. To her, *you* were the untouchable one—brilliant, bold Jackson Hewitt, second son of the marquis. She thought you'd laugh if she ever showed herself."
Jackson froze.
The weight of her words sank in like winter rain through silk.
Every time he'd strolled through the palace gardens... passed by a shadowed archway... turned a quiet corridor...
Had she been *there*? Watching? Waiting?
His chest tightened—part guilt, part something warmer he didn't dare name yet.
"And now," Fabian spoke for the first time, his deep voice laced with dry amusement, "she's not hiding anymore. You danced with her tonight. Saw her face up close."
Jackson leaned back slowly, staring at the ceiling as if it held answers written in stars.
"...And I called her 'Princess Frostbite' under my breath," he groaned softly.
Elodie smirked. "Oh? And what else did you think?"
He exhaled sharply—a half-laugh tinged with awe and regret.
"I thought she was made of ice." He paused. "...Turns out she's been on fire this whole time."
Elodie nodded, sighing softly. "Evira has always struggled with emotions. She's like a puzzle," she explained. "She feels deeply, but expressing it is like trying to hold water in your hands."
Jackson frowned. "And the cold front? The stoicism?"
Elodie glanced at him. "It's a defense mechanism. If she doesn't show her feelings, she can't be hurt."
Jackson's heart ached at the thought.
"So she just... closes herself off?" he said softly, thinking of those moments he thought Evira was emotionless.
Fabian chuckled, his eyes crinkling with reminiscence.
"I thought she hated me before I ever met her," he said with a wry smile. "I was in love with Elodie, so I assumed Evira would see me as competition or a threat. When I first met her, I was ready to throw down."
Jackson blinked, surprise flicking across his face. "You *feared* her?"
Fabian shook his head. "Not that. I feared she hated *me*."
Elodie chimed in, smirking. "She didn't though. Quite the opposite."
"One day," Fabian continued, voice softening, "I overheard her speaking with a handmaiden. Quiet. Rare for her to say anything at all. She said... *'If Elodie is happy with him, then I wish them both well.'*"
Jackson stilled.
A princess known for silence... wishing happiness to the man who stole her sister's heart?
"Even when she had feelings for me?" he asked quietly.
Elodie nodded. "Even then."
The room fell silent—except for the hum of memory in Jackson's mind: Evira's gloved hand in his, the faintest tremor as they danced... that single flicker in her icy eyes when their faces were close.
Not cold.
*Contained.*
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"...All this time," he murmured, half to himself, "I was falling out of one engagement... and walking straight into someone else's quiet kind of love."
A strange warmth bloomed in his chest—one that didn't feel like duty.
It felt like possibility.
Elodie leaned forward, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "So, Jackson," she teased, "how does it feel to be the object of secret admiration from the *Ice Princess* herself? Must be quite a boost to your ego."
Jackson shot her a look, but couldn't hide the faint flush creeping up his neck. "I'd say 'flattered,' but I'm still recovering from the shock of being publicly re-engaged without consent."
Fabian chuckled. "You'll live. And you two might actually make a good pair—her silence balances your sarcasm."
Jackson smirked despite himself.
"Or we'll kill each other in three days." He stood, brushing off his coat with mock dignity. "But... if she's been watching me all this time..." He paused at the door, glancing back with a playful edge in his voice.
"Then I suppose it's only fair I start *really* looking at her now."
Elodie's playful smirk vanished, replaced by a cold, regal stare that could rival her sister's.
"Jackson." Her voice dropped—low, sharp, and deadly serious. "One foot out of line. One careless word. One *tear* down Evira's face... and I won't need an executioner."
She stood slowly, the crown princess in full authority.
"I'll do it myself."
Silence clung to the air like frost on glass.
Jackson blinked—then let out a slow whistle, raising his hands in surrender. "Noted. Hurt Evira... become headless decor for the palace gardens." He shot her a lopsided grin. "I'd say 'you have my word,' but I'd rather keep it attached to my neck."
Fabian crossed his arms, nodding in grim approval.
And as Jackson turned to leave, his smirk faded just slightly—the weight of Elodie's warning settling deep.
Not just duty now.
*Protection.*
Because somewhere beyond the ice... was a heart that had loved him quietly all along.
And he had no intention of breaking it.
Jackson returned to his family's estate, the weight of yesterday's events still heavy on his mind. As he entered the grand hall, servants greeted him with bows and curtsies, but his thoughts were elsewhere.
He couldn't stop thinking about Evira—her quiet presence, her hidden feelings, and Elodie's stern warning. It was a lot to process.
"Master Jackson," a servant approached. "Your father requests your presence in the study."
Jackson nodded and made his way to the study, wondering what awaited him there.
As Jackson entered the study, he was surprised to see his older brother Jasper there, and their father sitting regally behind his desk. The air was thick with expectation.
"Ah, Jackson," their father said, gesturing him closer. "Thank you for joining us."
Jasper said nothing, his expression neutral as always.
Jackson approached the desk, his curiosity piqued. "You wanted to see me?"
"Yes," their father said. "I've just heard about yesterday's events at the academy. The engagement to Princess Evira... quite unexpected, wouldn't you say?"
Jackson stiffened slightly.
"It was... sudden," he admitted carefully.
Jasper finally spoke, voice smooth but edged with something unreadable: "Congratulation's little brother. Seems you've landed yourself in royal favor *twice*."
Jackson shot him a sidelong glance. "Or trouble—jury's still out."
Their father leaned forward, fingers steepled. "Evira Althan is no ordinary match. Cold as winter and sharp as glass—but an alliance with her strengthens our house immensely."
A beat passed.
"And what of your feelings on this?" his father asked, piercing Jackson with a look that demanded honesty.
Jackson hesitated—then exhaled softly.
"I don't know yet," he said truthfully. "But I think... she might be hiding more than just courtly poise behind that icy mask."
Jasper scoffed quietly under his breath.
"You always did romanticize silence," he muttered dryly.
Jackson didn't flinch—he simply smiled faintly, the ghost of last night's dance flickering in his mind.
"Maybe," he said calmly, "but for once... I'd like to see what melts ice instead of bowing to it."
The brothers and father exchanged glances as a knock interrupted their discussion. Their father called out, "Come in."
The door opened, revealing a servant. "There is an urgent message from the Palace, sir," the servant announced, holding out an ornate envelope.
"From the palace?" Their father exchanged a look with Jasper and Jackson, who shared the same thought: *Evira?*
He approached the servant, reaching for the envelope.
Their father broke the seal, reading the contents silently. A few seconds ticked by; their anticipation hung in the air like a held breath. Then, he glanced at Jackson, his expression impossible to decipher.
"Princess Evira wishes to meet you," he said finally. A muscle twitched in Jasper's jaw.
Jackson met his father's eyes, reading the silent message beneath: *Go. See what the Ice Princess wants.*
He nodded once, standing straight.
"I'll go."
"But if she wants to meet *you*," Jasper cut in with a smirk, "I wonder—did you finally freeze her heart after all?"
Jackson shot him a look. "Or maybe she's just decided to melt mine first."
With that, he turned on his heel and left the room, purpose in his step.
Outside, a royal carriage waited—an honor guard from the palace. The wind tugged at his coat as he stepped forward.
This wasn't just duty anymore.
It was destiny calling... one quiet glance at a time.
At the royal palace
Jackson sat across from Evira in her spacious quarters, an array of porcelain tea cups and tiered pastries between them. The room was quiet, almost unbearably so. Neither had spoken a word since he arrived; the only sound was the sipping of tea and the soft clink of spoons.
Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, he broke the ice.
"You wanted to see me," he began, his voice carefully neutral. "Is there... a specific reason?"
"I... I apologize," Evira murmured, her voice so soft it was nearly lost in the quiet of the room. Her eyes stayed fixed on her teacup, long lashes casting delicate shadows on her pale cheeks. "For how everything happened... for Elodie's announcement. It was sudden. I know you didn't expect this."
She paused, fingers gently tracing the rim of her cup—slight tremor betraying the calm in her voice.
"I should have spoken sooner," she whispered. "But... I didn't know how."
Jackson leaned forward slightly, caught off guard.
This wasn't coldness.
This was *shyness*—raw and real—as fragile as frost forming at dawn.
He exhaled slowly, setting his own cup down with care.
"Truthfully?" he said quietly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Neither did I."
A beat passed.
Then—a flicker.
Her gaze lifted just enough to meet his eyes beneath dark lashes.
And for the first time...
He saw it—not ice melting—but *hope*, quiet and trembling like a single candle flame behind glass.
"...Well then," Jackson added gently, warmth threading through his voice. "Maybe we can figure it out... together."
Evira:" I don't want to have a war succession with my sister due to my feelings for you... and I'm not interested in the throne, so I always watch you from afar instead"
Jackson blinked, surprise flickering across his face. "You... *watched* me?" A thousand questions rushed through his mind.
*All this time? How long? Why didn't she just...*
But one question rose above the rest.
"Why didn't you speak up?" he asked softly. "You could have said something."
There was no rebuke in his words, only a strange kind of wonder. To think—all those moments he'd thought himself unseen... she'd been there, watching from the shadows.
"I was afraid," Evira whispered, still not looking up. "Afraid of disrupting the peace... of causing conflict between us. Elodie is crown princess—she carries the future of the kingdom. I would never—" She paused, her voice tightening with rare emotion. "Never let my heart break that."
Jackson stared at her—*really* looked.
Not just at the composed princess in silks and sapphires.
But at the girl who loved quietly.
Who chose silence over power.
Who stood behind pillars and held her breath every time he passed... just to catch a glimpse.
His chest tightened.
"...You didn't want the throne," he said slowly, "so you gave up your own happiness instead?"
Her hands stilled in her lap. A single nod—barely there, but real.
And Jackson?
He did something no one expected from him: noble-born jester, second son with a sharp tongue...
He reached across the table—and gently took one of her cold fingers in his warm grip.
Evira flinched like she'd been touched by fire... then froze—eyes wide now, finally lifting fully to meet his gaze for once—for *real* this time—as if seeing him for it all first moment too late,
"I think," Jackson said softly,*"you've hidden long enough."*
And right there...
Something deep inside Princess Evira began to thaw.*
A soft cough punctuated the silence, jarring them both back to reality. Evira quickly pulled her hand back, a flush spreading across her pale cheeks. She cleared her throat.
"You should... let go," she managed, voice tight with sudden—almost flustered—panic.
Jackson blinked, pulling his hand back in confusion. Her sudden change in demeanor startled him. She'd been so open seconds ago—
...Then it dawned on him.
She was embarrassed.
For the first time, the Ice Princess was flustered.
Jackson sat there, staring at Evira in disbelief. The sight was so bizarre—so... *adorable*—he couldn't help it.
A grin broke out on his face as he leaned forward, resting his chin on one hand.
"Oh, now you're blushing," he teased, his voice full of good-humored fascination. "You can bare your soul without flinching, but your cheeks turn red over a touch?"
It was almost comical.
And completely endearing.
"S-stop that," Evira stammered, looking away. Her voice trembled slightly.
Jackson watched her carefully, noting how she refused to meet his gaze. This was new—*real*. The girl who'd hidden behind marble walls was now visibly shaken... by *him*.
He leaned back slowly, giving her space—letting the moment breathe—but kept his voice gentle.
"Alright," he said softly. "No more teasing... for now."
A pause.
Then a quiet truth slipped out:
"You don't have to hide from me anymore, Evira."
She didn't answer right away.
But when she finally raised her eyes—glassy, guarded yet glistening with unshed emotion—he saw it again:
That fragile flame behind the ice...
And this time?
It flickered *toward* him.
The two walked down the palace halls in silence, Evira keeping a few careful steps ahead of Jackson. Her cheeks still held a faint pink hue, though her expression was once again carefully composed—like she was trying to reclaim her usual stoic mask.
But Jackson noticed the tiny things: the way her fingers brushed against the marble wall as if grounding herself... how she glanced sideways when she thought he wasn't looking.
He smiled to himself. *Adorable.*
"Your Highness," he said lightly, hands clasped behind his back, "you know... you don't have to be perfect all the time."
She didn't answer. Didn't even glance at him.
But her pace slowed—just a little—as if waiting for him to catch up.
And so they walked—side by side in comfortable silence—the kind that didn't need filling...
Because sometimes, just being near someone was enough.
The royal garden was breathtaking—blossoming with rare white lilies, silver willows, and the faint scent of frost-kissed jasmine in the air. A gentle breeze stirred Evira's long dark hair as they stepped onto the winding path.
Jackson took it all in with quiet awe. "I didn't know you spent time here."
"It's... quiet," she said simply, not looking at him. "No one comes here often."
*Except me,* he thought wryly. *And apparently, a certain moonlight stalker.*
He caught her glancing at a small bench beneath an ancient cherry tree—one half-hidden by ivy.
"Was that... your usual spot?" he asked, nodding toward it.
Evira froze.
Her eyes widened slightly—the tiniest crack in her composure.
Jackson grinned. "So I *was* being watched."
She turned away sharply—but not before he saw it again:
That telltale flush creeping back into her cheeks like dawn breaking through snow.
And somewhere deep inside?
Jackson Hewitt—jester of nobles, master of sarcasm—felt something dangerously close to wonder...
Because for once...
He wasn't just seen by someone important.
He was *known*—in silence... from afar... and with a love so quiet,
It had taken his breath away before he even realized it was there.
Behind a thick curtain of silver willow branches, Elodie crouched—barely containing her glee—with Fabian standing stiffly beside her, arms crossed.
"They're *so* obvious," Elodie whispered, eyes sparkling. "Did you see that? The bench? The blush? *The handhold?!*"
Fabian sighed. "This feels like espionage."
"It's *love*, you oaf," she hissed playfully, tugging him lower as Jackson and Evira paused near the cherry tree.
Jackson glanced toward the bushes—just for a second—and raised an eyebrow. "...Do you hear rustling?"
Evira's eyes flicked sideways. "...Birds," she said flatly.
They both knew better—but kept walking, shoulders almost touching.
Back in the foliage:
Elodie pressed a hand to her heart as if swooning. "My cold little sister is *melting!* This is better than court drama!"
Fabian shook his head—but couldn't hide his smile. "You planned this all along."
"Me?" She batted her lashes innocently. "I simply... redirected fate."
He chuckled softly and offered her his hand.
"Come on, matchmaker-in-chief," he murmured with warmth in his voice." Let's leave them be."
And as they slipped away—
beneath blossoms trembling in the breeze—
two quiet hearts walked side by side...
no longer hidden,
no longer alone,
and completely unaware just how many miracles were blooming around them too.*
"So... no more hiding, Evira?" Jackson asked softly, glancing at her as they strolled beneath the cherry blossoms.
She didn't answer right away. Then—so quiet he almost missed it—she whispered:
"...Not from you."
A single petal drifted down, catching in her hair.
And somewhere behind them?
The rustling faded into laughter on the wind.
But Jackson wasn't laughing.
He was smiling—
soft,
real,
and meant for only one person.
As Jackson returned to the family estate, his thoughts swirled with the events of the day. The whispered confession from Evira, the quiet garden stroll, and the knowledge that somewhere—hidden behind branches, watching with glee—were their friends.
He walked through the grand entrance, mulling it all over, when a voice called to him from across the hall.
"You're back... and you look *far* too pleased with yourself."
Jasper leaned against the marble railing, smirking.
Jasper snorted, folding his arms and leaning against the railing.
"Oh... just *wonderful*," he said dryly. "The princess of ice is a *delight*. Truly a match made in heaven..."
He shot Jackson a meaningful look. "How are things with *your* frosty fiancée? You two seemed... *friendly* at the palace."
Jackson's grin widened, hands in his pockets as he strolled past Jasper toward the stairs. "Oh, you know... we talked. Walked the gardens. Held hands."
He paused—turned just enough to catch Jasper's reaction—and added with a playful smirk:
"She blushed *twice*. I think I'm breaking her."
Jasper blinked—then scowled, clearly unamused.
"...You're insufferable."
Jackson just laughed as he climbed the stairs.
"Yeah," he called over his shoulder. "But I'm *hers* now."
Jasper stood there, arms crossed, watching his younger brother disappear up the grand staircase with that infuriating swagger.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then—despite himself—a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Breaking her?" he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "More like... melting *for* her."
He turned to walk away, voice barely above a whisper—meant only for the quiet air:
"...Good luck, little brother."
And in that rare moment of softness...
the elder son hoped—not for power or pride—but for love.
Jackson flopped onto his bed with a muffled thud, one arm slung over his eyes.
The canopy above swirled in his vision—just like the day had: unpredictable, surreal, *warm*.
He replayed it all—the tea, the garden, Evira's trembling fingers and that single whispered *"Not from you."*
A slow smile spread across his face.
"Can't believe it," he murmured to the empty room. "I'm actually... happy about this."
Not just resigned.
Not just surviving duty.
*Wanting her.*
And outside—on marble balconies and quiet corridors—the wind carried secrets between palaces and estates...
of two hearts once frozen by silence,
now learning how to speak.
The hours slipped by in quiet contentment. Jackson lay there, gazing out the window at the stars, as a soft knock interrupted his thoughts.
He glanced up as the door opened, revealing his valet: James, a loyal servant who'd known him since childhood.
"Master Jackson," he said with a slight bow of respect, "there's a message for you."
Jackson sat up, curious. "A message? From who?"
James simply smiled mysteriously, stepping aside to reveal a messenger holding a silk envelope.
Jackson took the envelope with a raised brow, turning it over in his hands as if it might offer clues.
"Any idea what it's about?" he asked, glancing at James—but the valet just smiled mysteriously and said nothing.
"Enjoy your evening," he said, closing the door and leaving Jackson alone with the envelope.
Jackson's frown deepened as he broke the wax seal.
"What the...?"
Inside was a single slip of parchment, folded in half.
He unfolded it slowly, heart beating faster...
Only to burst out laughing.