Iceland x Reader -Cold Hands, Warm Heart-

It was said that only the strong could survive the relentless winters of the Blizzard Kingdom. It was also a great irony that the young king of his frigid kingdom could barely stand the extreme temperatures. As a result, he was constantly shut inside his inner chambers and rarely came out unless to travel to the therapeutic hot springs and back.

“It’s a good thing this place is so cold,” a knight said to his partner as they patrolled the halls. “Thanks to all of the ice, no one wants to come here, let alone invade. With the young king being sick all the time, we’d be taken over in a fortnight.”

“Even if he was in good shape, the only reason he’s on the throne is because his brother appointed him so,” his partner laughed. “I’d be damned if we had to take orders from the lad directly.”

The knights continued to preoccupy themselves with their conversation until they reached the end of the hall. Meanwhile, in the corner of the kitchen, you were preparing the young king’s afternoon meal. You had learned His Majesty followed his schedule like clockwork: he would wake up to bathe in the hot springs in the early morning, return to his chambers for breakfast, attend his royal duties until the late afternoon, eat his afternoon meal, attend to his duties once again, eat dinner, and bathe in the hot springs another time before readying himself for bed. There was never an alteration in his schedule, perhaps because there was little to distract him from it.

Back at the mainland, you remembered the young king’s older brother constantly changing his schedule to take care of political or diplomatic affairs morning, afternoon, and evening. When he finally prepared himself for bed, his eyes would sink into his skull like a hollow corpse drained of life. The color of his skin would turn papery white in the candlelight, and his fingers were always so cold and thin you could have mistaken them for tiny, bendable icicles.

Here, the Blizzard Kingdom king's condition was scarcely better. While never having to attend to political affairs, his health distracted him from going about the things he wished to do. You remember his brother telling him he would be able to see the whales and flocks of puffins that visited the Blizzard Seas year round, but even then, he wasn’t able to leave his palace.

To keep the sickly king company, his older brother had appointed you to be his personal servant. He had recognized your hard work and kind nature in the time you had served his family, and, with you being around his brother’s age, it was only appropriate that you take care of his daily needs. It had been a difficult transition from the warmer mainland and bidding farewell to your family in order to serve the young king, but you felt that he would appreciate your company as his brother had hoped. However, you were still unsure of the results of your decisions. Day by day, the king’s condition continued to worsen, and you couldn’t help but feel you were responsible. Perhaps you had not been attending him as closely as possible. Maybe he needed someone to talk to. But how could one talk with someone if that person refused to talk at all?

You decided to push your doubts aside and bring the king’s meal to his chambers. At this time, you expected him to be writing records of trade exchanges to the mainland in his study. Today’s meal included some of the king’s favorites: smoked mackerel with butter and lamb soup with vegetables. Steamed potatoes were added on the side to ensure he would have enough energy to last the rest of the daylight hours.  

With everything complete, you took the covered tray of food to His Majesty’s chambers and entered after knocking on his main door; two knocks were for quick questions; three knocks were for cleaning and dressing; and four knocks were designated solely for your entrance; you did not even need to address your business anymore since the king was used to you coming in and out of his chambers throughout the day.

“Your Majesty?” you quietly spoke as you entered his study with your tray. “Your afternoon meal is ready. Shall I leave it by your dining area?”

The young king placed his quill back in its inkwell and turned to face you, his lilac eyes looking up at you past his silvery blonde bangs.

“That’s alright. I can take it from you. Thank you.”

“You’re sure?” you asked, dropping your eyes to his white hands. The day before, you had entered his study while he had been writing documents. He had barely been able to hold a simple quill. How would he fare with a food tray, you wondered?

“I’m sure,” he insisted, standing up to your level. “I may be ill, but I’m not helpless.” He then wrapped his fingers around the tray handles, brushing against your hands in the process. You nearly flinched at his touch; his skin was like ice, appropriate to the nickname his brother called him.

“See?” he said, holding the tray without any jittering. “There’s nothing wrong.”

Your lips formed a congratulatory smile, relieved he still had some strength in him. “Of course, Your Majesty. It was wrong for me to doubt you.” With no orders for you to take, you excused yourself from his presence and turned to leave. After his meal was finished, you would have to prepare his dinner and his evening bath. Your life as his personal servant scarcely contained a moment for rest.

Before selecting ingredients for tonight’s dinner, you took the short moment to get some fresh afternoon air out in the palace gardens. It was a beautiful little sanctuary that was still under construction, but you were still free to go inside when there weren’t any workers.

The young king’s brother believed he deserved an isolated place to be closer to nature and had ordered a garden be built as an extension in the existing palace. The garden planned to be surrounded by a glass wall, sheltered by the freezing winds from the Blizzard Seas, and a bordering pathway was to be constructed all around to reinforce the glass framing. Inside, plants that were not native to this kingdom would grow inside, their healing abilities said to clear the lungs of anyone who breathed their air.

As of now, the glass wall was not in tact, but the pathway was already finished. When the walls were completed, the king would be able to enjoy this little piece of nature, too, but for now, you made the best of this place in your own free time.

“Perhaps His Majesty will find some comfort here,” you thought aloud. “I think he’ll like this place when it's finished.”

After taking a walk in the gardens, you returned to the main palace and headed to the kitchen. Dinners were lighter than afternoon meals and breakfast to compensate for the king’s evening bath, so you would have time to go to the hot springs. Every day, the hot springs were mixed with herbs, salts, and medicines to nourish the king’s body from the outside. It was a tedious process, but the physicians had said it would improve his health if he continued to bathe properly.

“How’s the young king doing, miss?” a maid asked you when you entered the kitchen.

“I think he’s doing better,” you smiled. “Just the other day, he was having some difficulty holding his quill, but he was able to carry his tray by himself.”

The maid goggled. “You mean to tell me you made him carry that heavy thing on his own?”

Realizing the way you worded that statement, you quickly clarified. “No, he insisted he carry it himself. He was able to take it from my hands without any problems. He is steady today. I hope this is a sign his health is improving.”

“Yes, let’s hope that is the case,” she replied with a serene look.

His Majesty’s dinner consisted of stewed lamb and potatoes with a helping of sweetened and creamed cheese for dessert. When you finished your preparations, you took the prepared meal on a different tray and went to the king’s room.

Four knocks granted you entrance to his chambers where you saw him in his study again.

“Your Majesty, dinner is ready,” you announced, holding the tray until further instructions.

This time, he did not bother turning to meet your eyes. Instead, his focus remained on the paper he was writing, perhaps his latest letter to his brother at the mainland. He didn’t speak for another few lines, and when he finished, he set his quill down and turned his head.

“You can leave that tray here on my desk,” he spoke. “Just take the other one back.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” you replied and set down his tray. Before going to the dining area to retrieve his other tray, you looked back one last time to see him carefully removing the cover from the bowl of stew. He didn’t make any jittering movements from your point of view, so, with relief, you went to retrieve the tray and left him in peace once more.

Once you finished cleaning the tray back at the kitchen, you set to preparing the bath waters for the young king. Before leaving the mainland, the physicians had carefully instructed you on the amounts required for his daily baths. One part green herbs, two parts rose salts, and two parts blue powders. You then had to mix all the additives together with a wooden paddle before adding a small scoop of pale lavender crystals.

You were used to the smells at this point. You remember His Majesty wrinkling his nose at the beginning of his baths, complaining that the aroma was unnecessarily overwhelming. His brother had finally calmed him down when he had said his health would improve with regular bathing. No complains had followed afterwards.

“He’s such a delicate thing,” you sighed as you mixed the herbs, salts, and powders together. Sometimes you wondered if the young king even enjoyed being appointed here. The way you saw it, as long as he was king, he would not have to worry about marrying into other royal families or submitting to other kingdoms. As ruler of his own lands, he had the ability to govern by his own rules…but how could he do even that if he couldn’t step beyond the palace grounds?

Eventually, His Majesty had finished his dinner and prepared the last procedures of his schedule before his bath. You always took the liberty of preparing his sleepwear while he bathed in the hot springs since he preferred to bathe without any disturbance.

However, tonight you were noticing he hadn’t made his return from the hot springs yet. Fear began to overtake you. What if he had submerged himself for too long? What if his illness had gotten to him? But as you pondered the possibilities, you couldn’t bring yourself to act. It was forbidden to intrude on the king’s bath. You could be severely punished, your family driven to shame and poverty for your actions. But what if the king died because you failed to do something? And his brother…He would be furious and stricken with grief. It wouldn’t be just the Blizzard Kingdom that would fall into disarray; the mainland would descend into chaos, too.

“This is no time to be hesitant,” you told yourself. “You are His Majesty’s personal servant. What personal servant would you be if you cannot even see if he is well?” You continued to give yourself words of encouragement in order to step out to the hot springs.

The hot springs were guarded by a series of walls that blocked out any peering eyes. You made your way around these walls until your eyes fell upon the hot spring—and your legs fell onto the ground.

“Y-Your Majesty…!”

A small mop of silvery hair floated above the surface of the cloudy waters. Beyond that, there were hardly any other parts of his body that appeared to be moving. Panic struck your heart. You could barely breathe as you knelt in shock as the king’s body bobbed lifelessly in the water.

This couldn’t be happening. He was fine a few hours ago. He had been able to hold the tray all by himself. When he wrote, he didn’t falter. His hands had been steady—

His hands.

They had been as cold as ice.

Desperate to save him, you negated your duty as his servant if only to save him. The waters, heated by thermal veins in the earth, were as warm as your blood, but upon reaching the young king, you were met with a horrible shock as you touched his cold body.

“Your Majesty, please be alright,” you pleaded and dragged him to the surface. He made no attempts to resist your tugs as you carried him up the sloped incline and to the heated floor surrounding the hot spring. Once he was completely out of the water, you held your breath and put your ear closer to his mouth.

Steady silence. He wasn’t breathing.

You bit your tongue. In the mainland, your father had taught you how to possibly revive people who had been submerged in water, but only if their lungs hadn’t been exposed for so long.

Was there still time, you wondered?

“No,” you breathed. “There’s only one way to find out. Forgive me, Your Majesty.”

Seizing yourself, you pressed your fingers to his nose, took his lips in yours and breathed into his lungs.

Press once, twice, thrice.

No movement. Again. One. Two. Three.

Please.

Breathe.

Please, Your Majesty!

One…Two…! Three!

Emil!

“Uh—! Gnngh! Hhhhnn!”

You sprang up from his side. The young king was alive. Barely breathing, but alive.

“Your Majesty,” you exhaled in relief, “a thousand apologies. I-I was worried. You didn’t come back, and I was grew concerned. When I saw you in the water, I really thought that I had…”

Tears overflowing in your sockets, you forced yourself to turn away. It was indecent. You were forbidden to see him like this, and regardless of whether or not you had saved his life, you were most likely going to be punished.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered. “I was so scared. If something happened to you, I don’t know what I would have—”

“Were you—” The young king coughed. “Were you the one who saved me?”

You bowed your head in a trembling maneuver. “Y-Yes. More or less.”

The king, still weak and coughing from his revival, leaned to the side and continued to expel water. You thought of excusing yourself until he could regain his stability, but another part of you thought it was best to stay and make sure he was alright.

When at last the king ceased his coughing, he asked for his robe which you obediently brought him.

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “Everything suddenly became black. I must have been pushing myself.” There was silence as he steadied himself into a sitting position. “I apologize, too, for making you worry, ________________.”

Your heart fluttered. You thought he had forgotten your name. In the entire time you had served his family, he had never spoken it once. He must have remembered it all this time. For him to say it with his own lips…it was truly a wonderful feeling.

“I was hiding it.”

“What?”

The young king bowed his head, his eyes riddled with shame. “Most days are bearable, but it’s been getting worse. I couldn’t keep this up.”

The sickness, he means.

“Your Majesty, if this continues, you could—”

“Don’t call me that,” he cut you off. “I hate it. I was never meant to be a real king. I’m still not. Look at this place. Look at me. Even though this place is so barren and people don’t want to invade, I still can’t govern it.”

You shook your head. “Don’t say that. Everyone starts somewhere. No one is truly born a king. If anything, your health should come first.”

“You’re too kind, but the world doesn’t work that way. A king’s people come before himself. If I cannot even protect the ones who serve me, what good am I?”

“Your Ma—Emil, how can you hope to protect your people if you don’t take care of yourself first?” By unconscious urge, your hands glided over his thin wrist and fingered their way to his palm. “Your hands are as cold as ice. But you know what? My mother always told me cold hands hide a warm heart. You care about this kingdom enough that you put them before yourself. Why don’t you be a little selfish?”

He blinked incredulously. “Selfish?”

“Take things a little slower. You don’t always have to follow the world’s whims, do you?”

“But—” The king stopped to cough. His lungs were still recovering, and even with a robe on, you could see his chest rapidly rising and falling to catch his breath.

You placed a hand on his bony shoulder. “Emil, you almost died. What if I hadn’t been here to save you?”

“Then…” He paused to think. “I’ll just have you be by my side from now on.”

“What?” That wasn’t what you wanted to hear. You weren’t a physician. If something more critical happened to him, you wouldn’t be able to save him even by being by his side. And by being with him, did he mean during his meals and baths, too? You had saved him while he had been taking a bath, after all.

With your head spinning from his proposal, you weren’t able to properly respond to his words. You were stunned, almost flattered, even. You would be dedicating every moment of your time with him. Could you do it? As someone who was just a servant, could the young king really put his trust in you?

“E-Emil. You need real help. You almost died. I cannot provide you with everything you need. If you were to collapse, I might not be able to save you the way I did.”

“_______________...”

He said your name so sincerely. The way the sound of his name rolled off his tongue sent a fuzzy signal through your body. He really needed you. He was nothing without you. Who was the one who prepared his meals? Who organized his files and delivered his messages to the couriers? Who picked out his daily clothes and mixed his baths?

You. It was you. Your life revolved around him. His wishes were your commands.

“Very well,” you gave in. “If that is what you really want, I’ll do my best to follow your orders.”

From then on, you were nearly always within a call away from the young king. To make it easier to access him, a bedroom with a small kitchen was ordered to be built adjacent to the king’s chambers. Until then, he made due with sleeping in a separate bedroom closer to your quarters. During meal preparations, he would frequently check in on your progress from his studies and observe your work. You enjoyed it when he would break out of his antisocial bubble and ask you questions like “How do you prepare the stew?” and “Do the potatoes really need to cook for that long?”

Regardless of your tasks, the king was never too far away. You had grown accustomed to addressing him by his first name, and he, yours. It soon became apparent that his health was slowly beginning to improve to your delight and relief. He no longer bore the icy-cold touch he once held; he was able to carry out hearings for elongated periods of time without feeling faint; and he was even able to step outside to see his constructed garden for the first time since his brother ordered it to be built.

“________________, come here,” he excitedly called for you, a shimmering gleam sparkling in his lilac irises.

“Yes, Emil,” you obeyed with a smile and came to his side where he was observing the glass walls climbing to the heavens.

It was like being in a crystal cage. The sun cast its rays through the transparent frames and tickled the garden plants with its warming energy. Little rainbows danced around the panes and painted your skin with colors of the night sky, and with those same colors, you noticed how lovely they reflected onto the young king’s creamy face.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he breathed, mesmerized by his wonderful gift.

“It is,” you agreed.

“It’s a shame I wasn’t able to come here earlier,” he sighed. The entire time he spoke, he didn’t look upon the kissing red tulips or the brightly colored daisies; the snowbells with their dainty white petals and the timid blue bonnets even failed to capture his attention. He never took his eyes off the outside world beyond the palace borders. Out there was his appointed kingdom, and you felt that he longed to go outside and see it with his own eyes.

“Don’t say that, Emil. You were ill, and the glass wasn’t finished. You would have gotten far worse than your average chills and weak lungs.”

“Perhaps, but I would have liked to see it when the cold air still touched this place.” He glided his fingers over the glass. Where his fingers moved, they left little melting trails in their wake as the crystals turned into water.

“We’ll go there one day,” you said.

The king stopped and stared in your direction.

“When you’re feeling completely better, we’ll be able to go see your kingdom and see the whales and puffins your brother promised you would see. The puffins are remarkably curious birds. I think you’ll take a liking to them.”

This made him smile. “If you think I’ll like them, then I’m sure I will. I trust your judgment.”

At his comment, you felt the blood rush to your cheeks. These feelings were occurring more frequently with the passing days. You weren’t too sure of this emotion, but perhaps, you thought, it was affection, maybe admiration.

“You’re too kind, Emil,” you huffed, trying to shy your reddening face from his view.

He chuckled. “If only my brother said the same thing about me.” He took a deep breath of the moist garden air. “But you’re right. I would love to go see the whales and puffins with you, ______________. As soon as my lungs are stronger, we’ll take a team out for an expedition.”

“And we’ll bring duvets,” you giggled. “Lots and lots of duvets.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

For the next few minutes, the two of you stood staring into the distance as the sun set. There was a sparse exchange of words between you, but you were perfectly fine with it. Moments like these when you could be with the young king were few and far in between.

Then, the king began speaking again. “______________?”

“Yes, Emil?” you responded with your eyes still glued to the horizon.

“Thank you.”

His words caught you by surprise. Thank you? For what? Your services? He thanked you nearly every day for every little task. Why would he suddenly express feelings of gratitude to you now, you wondered?

“If I might ask: what is it that you are thanking me for?”

The king smiled. “For being with me, of course.”

The feeling that had been growing inside of you bubbled to the surface again. You wanted to turn away and hide your cheeks from him, but you felt compelled to give him your attention. It was rude to look away from the king, after all.

“Y-You’re…” you stuttered. “You’re very welcome, Emil.”

“I think it’s because of you that my health has been improving—not just my body, but my spirit. I was skeptical about my brother sending you here, but I think I can see why he made that decision.”

“Th-That decision being…?”

“That he wanted someone to be here for me when he couldn’t. ______________, I want to think of you more than just my personal servant—even more than a friend.”

Your heart fluttered. This couldn’t be. These feelings that you had thought were affection and admiration were actually something far greater.

But it couldn’t be.

“Emil, please, I am but a mere servant. That’s all I’ll ever be to you.”

“Then you’re saying what you were doing when you saved my life was your duty, ________________?” he replied with a question.

“I…no. It wasn’t because I was your servant. I speak the truth…” Your voice trailed off as you bit your lips. You wished he hadn’t confronted you about your feelings this way, yet he was being very courageous, himself. You had noticed how often he would watch you and call for your company. Even when there were papers to be written and documents to be recorded, he grew to enjoy your presence. Secretly, you had wished your relationship could have been something more, but as it stood, the positions that the two of you stood for were far too great for any sort of encouragement.

“You’re holding something back, aren’t you?” the king spoke in a low voice. “Is it because I’m a king?”

You didn’t want to answer him, but try as you did, you couldn’t bear to tear your eyes off his pining violet orbs.

“_________________...”

Suddenly, in an unexpected burst of movement, the king threw his hands in your direction and held onto your shaking palms. In your surprise, you tried to move away, but his touch was so tender that you couldn’t bear to part from his hold.

“Your hands are cold,” he murmured in your ear. “You aren’t ill, are you?”

“N-No, I don’t believe so,” you timidly shivered.

“Then…you’re nervous?”

You lowered your head in embarrassment. “Perhaps. Forgive me.”

To your astonishment, you heard the king chuckle. “No, I shouldn’t have to. You’re the one who told me cold hands hide a warm heart, did you not?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Then, we’re the same. My heart can reach out to my kingdom only because I suspect your heart reaches out to me.”

Your heart throbbed; its beat was so loud that it was like the crashing of hollow waves in your ears. He knew. Your feelings hadn’t gone unchecked after all these months.

“I’m sorry, Emil,” you frantically apologized. “I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be.” His once weak voice was now strong enough to erupt into laughter. It filled the gardens with a different kind of warmth, the kind of warmth that reached out and touched your heart more than it did your hands.

“________________, I’ve wanted to ask you this for some time now. I was unsure of what I was feeling, but in the time we’ve spent together, I think I’m confident enough to tell you.”

You could only stand and stare in anticipation of his next words.

“I want you to stay by my side forever, not just by being there for me, but by supporting me through heart and soul. Will you be able to do that?”

“Emil…” Your heart was hammering within your chest. The blood rushed to your cheeks and warmed your entire cavity. He loved you just as you loved him without even needing to tell each other.

“But, Emil, you’re a king, and I’m a…”

“You’re right,” he smiled. “I am a king. That means I can choose whoever I want to stay with. No one has to tell me what to do or enforce rules on me. I think my brother might have known that when he appointed you to serve me in this place.”

Ah, the young king’s brother. You would have to write a letter of thanks to him when you would get the chance.

“Very well then,” you beamed, your lungs hardly able to contain themselves from the air overwhelming their capacity. “If that is what you want, then I’ll be happy to be by your side.”

The king couldn’t be happier. For the next few minutes as the sun set over the Blizzard Kingdom, you could feel his fingers intertwining with yours, palm cupped against palm. His touch was warm.