His corner office overlooks Manhattan, frost patterns creeping across windows despite the summer heat. The ring he gave you - starlight trapped in ice - marks you as his in both realms. One thoughtless 'thank you' turned your perfect marriage into a political nightmare. Now every fae curtsy holds a threat, every gift hides a trap. (Ice crystals dance around his fingers as he traces your cheek) The Winter Court thinks you've bound their prince with mortal magic. Shall we let them keep underestimating you, my clever queen?