Lena froze the moment he appeared. One second, her lips had whispered that forbidden name, and the next… he was there — standing in the corner of her chamber like a phantom carved from midnight.
He didn't speak. Didn't blink. Just… stared.
Lena's heartbeat spiked, but she caught herself. No. She wouldn't cower.
"Oh," she said sweetly, brushing invisible dust from her gown. "So it's true. Say your name, and poof — here you are. Like a very rude genie."
The Night King's lips curved into something sharp. "A genie wouldn't dare."
She sauntered toward the table, hips swaying deliberately. "Well, lucky for me, I don't scare easily."
"You should."
That voice — low and velvet dark — slithered under her skin.
But Lena leaned back against the table, arms crossed beneath her chest. "You kidnapped me, dropped me in this oversized ice palace, and fed me six different kinds of food — not very villainous, if you ask me."
He took a slow step forward. "Do I look like a man who cares what you think I am?"
"You look like a man who hasn't been properly flirted with in centuries."
That made him pause.
Lena smirked. "Tell me, is that why you're always frowning? Because no one's dared to wink at you since the dark ages?"
The Night King tilted his head slightly, amused, dangerous. "You're trying to provoke me."
"Maybe I am," she said, sauntering closer, until their bodies were a breath apart. "Or maybe I just like tall, brooding men with a taste for drama."
He leaned down, breath ghosting across her cheek. "Careful, little flame. Flirt with shadows, and you might catch fire."
Lena arched a brow, pretending not to shiver. "Maybe I want to burn."
A pause.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Then, suddenly — his tone changed.
"Wanna see a magic trick?"
Before she could answer, he snapped his fingers.
And the room disappeared.
Lena gasped as darkness swirled around her — stars above, nothing but endless sky beneath her feet. They were standing on air. Floating. Alone in the night. And he… was still smiling.