"Look at that beauty," Jet murmured as he sat up, gazing out the frost-touched window. Snow blanketed the world outside, sparkling softly in the morning light. "Such beautiful white snow this morning."
Winter had arrived, but it didn't stop the village from bustling with life. Snowflakes drifted down gently, coating everything in a serene, silvery glow. Jet and his mother made their way through the snowy streets toward the morning market, the chill nipping at their cheeks.
"Your father and brothers should be back soon," his mother said, a wistful smile spreading across her face. "It's been nearly two months since they left."
Jet smiled warmly. "We'll make them the best dinner when they return."
His mother chuckled softly. "You'll be too busy running off to see your friend to help me. But don't worry, I can manage."
Jet tilted his head with a playful smile but didn't argue. He understood her point and didn't want to press the matter.
—-
A few days have passed.
"Damn, it's freezing in here," Jet muttered, rubbing his arms as he stepped into Han's small, humble house. His breath puffed in visible clouds, and the chill seemed to wrap around him despite the shelter.
Han glanced up from where he was arranging some tools. Scratching the back of his neck, he motioned toward the cold brazier in the corner of the room.
"Sorry about that. The fire went out while I was at work this morning."
Jet sighed, heading over to the brazier. "You could have at least left some embers burning. How do you even survive here?"
Han smirked, leaning against the doorframe. "I'm used to it. Unlike some nobles, I don't have the luxury of servants keeping the fires lit for me."
Jet shot him a playful glare as he knelt beside the brazier, poking through the ash with a practised hand.
"Lucky for you, I happen to know how to start one. Grab the flint, will you?"
Han chuckled softly, pulling the flint and tinder from a nearby shelf. Together, they worked in sync, Han striking the flint while Jet carefully arranged fresh charcoal. Soon, a small flame flickered to life, growing steadily until the warmth began to radiate throughout the room.
Jet sighed in relief, stretching his hands toward the heat. "Ah, much better. You really should have kept this going. You'll end up freezing to death one of these days."
Han smirked, sitting down beside him and holding his hands out to the brazier. "I didn't expect a guest to barge in and complain about it. You warm the place up just fine with all your fussing."
Jet rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress the grin that spread across his face. "If I didn't fuss, who would? You'd probably just sit here in silence, teeth chattering."
Han chuckled, leaning back slightly, his gaze drifting to the small window where the snowflakes danced lazily outside. "Maybe. Or maybe I'd just be out there working, too busy to notice."
"Working in this weather?" Jet looked incredulous, shaking his head. "Sometimes I wonder if you're human."
"Not all of us can sit in warm classrooms and sip tea during winter lessons, Jet," Han teased. "Some of us actually have to use our hands to survive."
Jet grinned, leaning closer to the fire. "Fair enough. But don't forget, I use my hands too—for books, brushstrokes, and your sword practice."
Han chuckled. "Sword practice doesn't count as work. That's just playing with sticks."
Jet gasped in mock offense, his hand flying to his chest. "Playing with sticks? How dare you insult the noble art of swordsmanship! I'm deeply hurt."
Han smirked, his eyes twinkling as he leaned in slightly. "Oh, forgive me, great swordsman. Shall I grovel for your mercy?"
They both burst into laughter, their voices echoing warmly in the small space, blending seamlessly with the crackling of the brazier. For a moment, the cold outside felt like a distant memory, replaced by the growing warmth between them.
"Spring is going to come so soon," Jet said, his gaze fixed on the window. Snow blanketed the world outside in an unbroken sheet of white, tranquil and fleeting.
Han remained quiet for a moment before finally asking, "Are you scared?"
Jet gave him a small smile, a mix of resignation and hope playing on his lips. "Who wouldn't be? I'm happy for my sister—she's lucky to have found someone who loves her. But not everyone gets that kind of person."
"...benevolent," Han murmured softly, almost to himself. "You're not wrong. My father's already started talking about finding me a bride. Can't let this 'Alpha' blood go to waste, apparently."
Jet's smile wavered but stayed in place. "By then, we'll be able to meet each other with our new families," he said with a faint laugh. "I can't really imagine it, though. A future like that for us. But... it's part of life, I guess."
Han didn't reply, the weight of their conversation lingering in the air like the heavy winter sky.
In the corner of his vision, Jet caught sight of something and stood, curiosity pulling him across the room. A painting rested on a low shelf, slightly tucked away but still prominent enough to notice.
"Is this your family?" Jet asked as he picked it up, his fingers brushing the ornate wooden frame. His eyes scanned the painting, a mix of surprise and admiration crossing his face.
Han nodded, his expression unreadable.
"You look just like your mother," Jet said after a long moment, glancing over at Han with a warm smile. "She's beautiful."
The painting depicted a serene woman seated on a wooden chair, her hands cradling a young toddler who couldn't have been more than two years old. Her hair flowed down her back like a silken river, her features soft and refined, radiating elegance. Her eyes sparkled with gentle joy, a reflection of the child's innocent smile.
Jet couldn't help but linger on her face before glancing back at Han. The resemblance was striking, though Han's features were sharper and more masculine. Yet in the depths of his eyes, Jet could see the same quiet grace his mother had.
"She must have been a wonderful person," Jet said softly, setting the painting back in its place.
"She was," Han replied, his voice low but steady. "She taught me everything about patience and strength. I hope... I hope she'd be proud of who I've become."
"She would be," Jet said with quiet certainty. "I can tell."
For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence between them feeling less like an absence of sound and more like a shared understanding.