Marvel: Silver Hand

Another year had passed, and life in Snow Valley had settled into a predictable rhythm for Alexander. Now 14 years old and in high school, he was taller, more confident, and busier than ever. One constant through it all was Emma Frost. She wasn't just a family acquaintance anymore—she'd become one of his closest friends.

For Alexander, Emma was like a window into a completely different world. She often talked about her family, her struggles with her father, and the loneliness that came with being a Frost. Despite her sometimes sharp demeanor, she always seemed relaxed when it was just the two of them.

It was a Friday evening, and Emma was lounging on the couch, complaining about her father again.

"I swear, Alexander," she said, running a hand through her sleek brown hair, "Winston Frost is the worst father in the history of terrible fathers. I'm not even exaggerating."

Alexander was seated across from her, nursing a soda and listening with his usual patient smile.

"He expects me to be perfect in every way—straight A's, perfect social behavior, and of course, he thinks my GPA is some reflection of his success. And because my family's rich, everyone at school thinks I'm stuck up! So now, not only do I have a father who's impossible to please, but I've also got a reputation that I didn't even earn!"

She exhaled sharply and flopped back against the couch, her frustration evident.

Alexander shrugged. "Well, if it helps, I think you're pretty great just the way you are."

Emma paused, her expression softening for a moment. "You always say stuff like that. It's annoying."

Alexander laughed. "You're welcome."

Suddenly, Emma winced, grabbing her temples. Her breath hitched, and her face contorted in pain.

"Emma? Are you okay?" Alexander asked, sitting up straighter.

"It's just… a migraine," she said through clenched teeth. "I need to… can I use your bathroom?"

"Yeah, of course. Down the hall, second door on the left."

Emma nodded and got up unsteadily, holding her head as she made her way to the bathroom. Alexander watched her go, concern etched on his face.

Minutes passed. Then ten. Then twenty.

At the thirty-minute mark, Alexander finally knocked on the bathroom door. "Emma? You okay in there?"

"I'm fine," came her voice, muffled but steady. "Just give me a minute. I'll be out soon."

Alexander frowned, but he didn't press. He headed back to the living room, trying to distract himself with a comic book.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Clara opened it to reveal a sharply dressed man standing on the porch. He introduced himself as a Frost family employee and explained he was there to pick up Emma.

"She's in the bathroom," Clara said, motioning for him to wait.

A few minutes later, Emma emerged, looking slightly pale but composed. Her smile was back, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Sorry for the wait," she said casually as she grabbed her coat and bag. She turned to Alexander and gave him a small wave. "See you later, Alex."

"Yeah, see you," he replied, giving her a smile.

Emma walked out with the servant, and the door closed behind them.

After dinner, Alexander decided to clear his head in the backyard. The air was crisp, and the sky was clear, the stars twinkling above him. He lay down on the grass, hands behind his head, and stared up at the endless expanse of the night sky.

His thoughts drifted to Emma—her smile, her laugh, even her frustration when she ranted about her father. She was… different. Not just because of her family or her beauty, but because she seemed to carry a weight that most people their age didn't.

Alexander's heartbeat quickened as he thought about her. He wondered what it would be like to kiss her, to feel her lips against his. The thought made his face flush, and he quickly shook his head, trying to push the idea away.

"Get a grip," he muttered to himself.

With a sigh, he stood up and dusted himself off. The cool air had helped calm his racing mind, but he still felt a little restless.

Back in his room, Alexander flipped through one of his comics before eventually setting it aside. He turned off the light and crawled into bed, pulling the blanket over himself. His thoughts lingered on Emma as he drifted off to sleep, her image etched in his mind.

Meanwhile, Celebrimbor stood unseen in the corner of the room, watching. He'd sensed something off about Emma from the beginning. There was an energy about her, something that didn't feel entirely human. But Alexander seemed happy around her, and for now, that was enough. Still, Celebrimbor's suspicion remained. He resolved to keep a closer eye on her.