His Plan All Along

The deep walls of the ice room parted with a loud, groaning noise as King Oberon strode inside. Carved deep within the heart of his palace, the room stood as a frozen fortress, its walls adorned with a glistening sheen of icy crystals that shimmered in the dim light.

As King Oberon entered, he was immediately enveloped by a bone-chilling cold that seemed to penetrate to the very marrow of his bones. The air was thick with frost, each breath turning into mist as it escaped his lips. Yet despite the bitter cold, Oberon remained unaffected, his demeanor as icy as the room itself. He simply breathed in the frigid air, his expression impassive, as if inhaling needles of ice held no discomfort for him. 

The two stern-looking Fae stationed at the entrance shivered involuntarily as the biting cold from within the ice room washed over them. Hastily, they pulled the heavy stone door shut behind them, sealing off the frigid chamber from the outside world.