Transmigrated Into a Cannon Fodder Phoenix, Stuck With the Ice Dragon-Chapter 119: My Wife

Lucian swallowed hard. I could see it clearly now, the way panic flickered through his eyes, the way his jaw tightened like he was bracing for something that couldn’t be stopped anymore. It was as if he were silently begging me not to listen. Not to believe a single word that came from his father’s mouth.

Severin noticed.

Of course he did.

His smirk widened slowly, cruel and deliberate, the kind that wasn’t meant to wound in one strike but in a hundred tiny cuts.

"Might want to ask him," he said lazily, tilting his head toward Lucian, "about what happened to his first love."

The words sank straight through my chest.

First love?

I blinked once, then turned my eyes to Lucian again, searching his face for anything that would tell me this was another lie. Another twisted story meant to tear us apart.

Lucian didn’t speak.

And somehow... that silence said more than any denial ever could.

The space between us suddenly felt unfamiliar. Heavy. Like something fragile had cracked without making a sound.

"Lucian...?" I whispered, hating how small my voice sounded in the open room.

He opened his mouth and reached for my hands. "I promised you I’d tell you everything after this," he said quickly, his voice tight. "Whatever you want to know... I’ll tell you. Just for now, you only need to believe me—"

"Yes," Severin cut in smoothly, rolling his eyes in mock agreement. "Believe in him."

He took a slow step forward, boots echoing against the marble as his amusement sharpened into something uglier.

"Because when you start believing," he went on, his voice lowering like a blade drawn from a sheath, "you stop asking questions."

Lucian turned on him instantly. "Enough—"

"And when you stop asking questions," Severin continued calmly, ignoring him, "it becomes very easy to forget what kind of man you’re standing next to."

My fingers tightened around Lucian’s without me realizing it.

Severin tilted his head, studying my face like I was a puzzle he enjoyed breaking.

"Did he tell you what happened to her?" he asked lightly. "The girl he swore he couldn’t live without?"

Lucian’s grip on me tightened. "Don’t," he warned.

Severin smiled wider. "Strange thing is," he added, "she believed him too."

"STOP IT!"

Lucian’s voice rang across the manor, sharp and violent enough to make the air itself feel like it cracked. Frost raced up the edges of the marble beneath his feet, the temperature plunging in a heartbeat.

"Say one more word," Lucian snarled, eyes burning, "and I swear you will not walk out of this house alive."

For the first time, Severin looked almost satisfied.

But before another word could be thrown like a weapon a voice silenced everyone.

"Enough."

The single word was quiet and yet it cut through the room more cleanly than any roar.

All movement still.

Lucian froze.

Slowly, a familiar presence filled the space behind him.

At the entrance to the room, Arienne sat on a wheelchair framed at the entrance of the living room. Her complexion still pale from years of sleep and ice, but her eyes were clear.

A servant hovered behind it, hands resting on the handles.

"Enough," she said again, softly this time.

Lucian turned. "Mother—"

She lifted her hand, silencing him without effort.

"This house has heard enough poison for one lifetime," she said, her voice steady despite the weakness in her frame. "If you’ve come only to bleed old wounds, Severin... then you’ve already overstayed your welcome."

Severin scoffed, but it lacked its earlier edge. "You always did like playing the peacemaker, Arienne."

She met his gaze without fear.

"And you always mistook cruelty for strength."

The words hung between them like shattered glass.

The room fell into a brittle silence as husband and wife faced each other for the first time in years—no, in lifetimes. No shouting. No magic. Just the weight of everything that had been left unsaid pressing down on them both.

Then Severin took a step forward. He stopped only when he stood directly in front of her wheelchair, "How are you?"

The question cut deeper than any insult.

No one in the room moved and no one dared to breathe.

Among all the words he could have chosen... that was the one no one expected.

Least of all, Arienne.

Her fingers tightened faintly over the armrest.

For years—decades—centuries even—he had never asked.

Not while she was sick.

Not when she was lost in her mental health.

Not when she faded into silence.

Now, when she sat before him thin and pale but alive, he asked that?

She searched his face... for mockery, for cruelty, for the familiar cold.

And for the first time... she found none.

"Still alive," Arienne answered after a long moment. "Which... I suppose... would disappoint you."

Severin’s jaw tightened... just barely.

"Come back with me," he said suddenly, stepping closer and gripping the handles of her wheelchair.

Arienne’s voice stopped him cold.

"Why?" she asked quietly. "Why would I go back with you... when I am no longer your wife?"

She lifted her chin, weak body or not, her dignity unbroken.

"I haven’t forgotten your last words to me," she continued, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. "The ones you left me with when I was bleeding and barely conscious."

Her eyes burned as she looked up at him.

"If such a small pain is enough to kill you..."

She swallowed, "then you were never worthy of being my wife."

The sentence landed between them like a blade driven into ice.

Lucian froze.

Seraphina felt her chest constrict.

Severin stared down at Arienne as though the memory had struck him just now, raw and unfiltered.

His fingers loosened. Not much but enough.

"And you came back from that," he said hoarsely. "After everything they did to you. After everything."

"Yes, after everything YOU did to me," Arienne replied simply, "I lived." She drew a slow breath, "And I learned."

A long silence followed.

Then quietly, she muttered, "I am not coming back."

Her gaze did not waver, even as her voice softened into something cold and hollow.

"Being by your side is not my home anymore," she said. "And I heard... you already married someone else."

A faint, brittle smile touched her lips. "Why would you need me now?"

The words struck like frost.

Severin flinched, not visibly, not dramatically but enough that Lucian saw it, enough that Seraphina felt the air shift.

A vein pulsed at his jaw.

"That marriage..." he began, the words rough and grudging, "was a political necessity. Not a replacement."

Arienne did not blink.

"Necessity," she echoed softly. "You always did choose necessity over love."

Severin’s expression cracked for a single second, raw, complicated but it vanished just as quickly under the usual mask of cold authority.

"That has nothing to do with—"

"It has everything to do with it," she whispered.

"You abandoned me. You replaced me. And now you stand here asking why I will not return." Her fingers curled against the armrest of the wheelchair, trembling slightly but held with pride, "I am not your shadow anymore, Severin."

Her words did not soften him.

If anything, they bruised his pride.

Severin’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as something ugly twisted across his expression.

"So that’s what resurrection does to you now?" he sneered. "It fills your spine with borrowed courage?"

His gaze raked over her slowly, contempt curling in every line of his face.

"I remember you differently," he continued venomously.

"You didn’t talk back. You didn’t look at me like this. You didn’t dare." He leaned closer, voice lowering into something lethal, "You kept your eyes down. You obeyed. You trembled when I spoke."

His lips curved into a cold parody of a smile.

"So tell me, Arienne... is this bravery truly yours? Or are you just wearing a miracle like armor?"

"I’ve had enough," Arienne said, her voice trembling but unbroken. "You—"

She didn’t finish.

Severin’s hand snapped out, fingers clamping around her chin, forcing her face up so she had no choice but to meet his eyes.

"You’ve had enough?" he hissed. "Then what about me?"

His grip tightened, "I believed you were dead for years," he snarled. "Buried. Gone. And now you stand here like nothing ever happened like you didn’t shatter my world by dying in it!"

Arienne’s breath hitched, but she didn’t look away.

"You wake up and suddenly you have a voice," Severin continued, his tone burning with accusation. "Suddenly you’re strong. Suddenly you speak like someone I no longer recognize."

He let out a dark, bitter laugh. "Do you think you earned this? You think dying makes you forgiven? You think this... this attitude... just comes free with resurrection?"

His eyes bored into hers, "Or are you telling me that the woman in front of me is no longer mine at all?"

Lucian’s hand snapped Severin’s away from Arienne’s chin, "You don’t deserve her."

The room seemed to freeze solid.

Severin stared at Lucian in disbelief for half a second... then scoffed darkly.

"And who are you," he snarled, "to tell me that?"

His eyes flicked back to Arienne with something harsh and possessive burning inside them.

"She is mine," he said coldly. "Alive... or buried six feet into frozen stone, she is still my wife!"