The lake outside Mondstadt had frozen over, clean and clear, the moonlight silvering its surface like a flawless mirror stretching endlessly beneath the stars. The air was sharp and crisp, each breath curling into fog before vanishing in the stillness. Yet even in the bitter cold, Kaeya's laugh rang out—smooth, rich, warm enough to thaw through layers of frost.

Lumine stood at the lake’s edge, her boots crunching uncertainly on the snow. One foot hovered over the glassy ice, hesitant, the other still rooted in safety. Her coat was too thin, her gloves barely warm, fingertips already stinging from the chill. This? This was absurd. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked, glancing warily at Kaeya.

He was already gliding across the lake like he belonged to it. His movements carved slow, elegant patterns, like calligraphy written in silver. Every step was confident, easy, and infuriatingly smug. That lazy, half-lidded grin was back—the one that spelled trouble before he even spoke.

“What’s life without a little risk?” he called, spinning once for show, his coat flaring dramatically. “I promise I’ll catch you. Or at the very least, I’ll look devastatingly charming as you fall.”

Lumine narrowed her eyes, cheeks pink—definitely from the cold, and absolutely not because of him. “You’re not even wearing skates.”

“Don’t need them.” He winked, casually waving a hand beneath his boots. The ice thickened under his feet, shimmered, steadied. “Cryo has its perks.”

He walked the frozen lake as if it were solid ground. His control was subtle but unmistakable—a magician’s sleight of foot. A cheater’s grace. Typical Kaeya. And still, somehow, her fingers reached for his. Just a little. Just enough.

He took her hand without hesitation. Warm leather against her skin, his grip strong and sure. She inhaled softly. He pulled.

“Trust me,” he murmured, voice low, breath close enough to ghost along her cheek. Too close. “I won’t let you fall.”

Her boots hit the ice and—immediately—slid. “Aah—!”

He caught her with practiced ease, arms looping around her waist. His body was a shield, his laughter a soft rumble against her spine.

“Easy, princess,” he teased, steadying her. “You’re doing better than I expected.”

“I nearly died,” she muttered with a breathless laugh, still gripping his coat for balance.

“Tragic,” he whispered, eyes gleaming. He leaned in. “But at least it would’ve been dramatic. A true Kaeya-style ending.”

She shoved his shoulder lightly, scowling. “You’re impossible.”

“I’ve been called worse,” he said with a smirk, brushing a fleck of snow from her shoulder. “And usually by people far less adorable.”

He didn’t just lead her across the lake. He stole her away, one confident stride at a time. His right hand stayed securely clasped around hers; his left hovered just at the small of her back—present, but not pushing. Guiding. Guarding.

Her boots still slipped, but she didn’t fall. Not once. Kaeya always caught her before she lost her footing. Always smiling. Always watching. And slowly, very slowly, she began to move in time with him.

“See?” he said, that grin blooming again. “You’re not flailing anymore.”

She exhaled, half-laughing. “I’m surviving.”

“You’re dancing,” he said, eyes twinkling with a teasing warmth.

“It’s not dancing,” she replied, cheeks burning, but her grip never loosened from his hand.

“It is,” he said, spinning her gently in a wide circle. “Because it’s with me.”

Moonlight crowned his hair, caught on the fur lining of his coat. The stars seemed to shimmer around them, and for a moment—just a breath—they floated above the world.

“Tell me,” he asked softly, wind sighing over the lake, “do you always let suspiciously handsome men lure you into dangerous adventures?”

“Only the ones who smirk like they’ve got secrets,” she replied, a flicker of amusement curling at her lips.

“Then you do trust me that much, little traveler?” he asked, his voice dipping to something softer, more intimate—almost a dare.

Her breath faltered—not from fear, not from the cold, but from something else entirely. A tightness in her chest. A skip in her heartbeat. A warmth that had nothing to do with proximity.

“Maybe,” she whispered.

Kaeya’s smile deepened, slow and devastating. “Then let me show you what trust looks like.”

He let go.

Before she could panic, he was behind her—arms catching her from beneath, lifting her effortlessly. With a swirl of Cryo energy beneath his boots, the ice gleamed brighter, freezing in ribbons as he propelled them both forward. They sliced across the lake, faster than she thought possible. Her shriek turned into laughter as the world blurred past. Hair tangled in wind. Heart pounding. It was wild. It was exhilarating. It was free.

He set her down just as gently, their momentum ebbing to a slow drift. She staggered, breathless, flushed, alive.

“You’re absolutely insane,” she gasped.

“And yet,” he replied, brushing a loose strand of hair from her cheek with a reverent touch, “you keep holding on.”

She met his gaze, her chest rising and falling. Her thoughts scattered, but one truth rang clear: she did trust him. And maybe that was the real danger.