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Cinder Fall could easily remember the moment she’d become a monster.
She could remember the blood and how warm it felt as it splashed onto her skin; how it had a silvery glow in the moonlight, how the smell was sharp and metallic, yet soft at the same time. She’d seen blood before, of course, but not like this. Not the kind that fell from a dying victim, one slain by her own doing. No, that was an entirely new sensation. Terrifying…powerful.
She could remember feeling the pulse of arteries under her fingers as she pressed her fingers against warm skin, and those choking, strangled attempts to breathe. Attempts that she had not allowed to succeed. And then the hard snap of bone, the noise seeming almost louder than Cinder’s own heartbeat.
She could still see their terrified faces, still hear their last, pathetic attempts at defiance. She could remember his bitter disappointment. The look on his face that had told her everything she needed to know about herself- you will never be good. You are not worth saving.
And now, over six years later, she was finally paying the price.
The snow was freezing, cold enough that the blood seeping from her torso and through her clothes hardly even felt warm. Not like it had felt that night. She could still smell it, though. And she could still feel it pouring from her own body. Soon, she would lose enough that her body would no longer be able to sustain herself. Either that, or the cold of the tundra would get to her first.
Either way, she didn’t care. A few years ago, she would have. A few years ago, she’d had something- someone- to live for. Not anymore.
At least this way, she wouldn’t have to go back to Salem and tell her that she’d failed. She would rather die alone in the snow than face her, not with the glimpses she’d caught of Salem’s true nature. At least this way, she’d get out of Salem’s real plans for the world and would no longer have to be a part of them.
A coward’s way of thinking, perhaps, but Cinder had always been a coward anyway.
So, she lay there as the snow fell upon her, allowing it to begin burying her in the white depths. She watched snowflakes fall into the pool of blood and melt, diluting the dark liquid, turning it thin and watery.
She wished it didn’t hurt. She would rather die numbly, or quickly, as she’d always imagined. But she hated being in pain. She’d already known enough of it. And it felt rather pathetic for her final moments to be spent in that same pain. Slow and agonizing. But it was what she deserved.
She let her eyes close, feeling the slight stiffness of her frost-covered eyelashes as they brushed together. It would be like going to sleep, she told herself. She wondered if she’d have the consciousness left to dream before passing. Maybe a dream of what could have been. A dream of her and Winter, years into the future, with kids around their ankles, living on a farm with a cat and a dog, in a world where Cinder had never killed anyone, and where Winter had never even considered such stupid dreams of joining the military.
A bittersweet smile creased her face. She held the thought close, and prayed that she could manifest it in her sleep, a final moment of happiness before the end.
The sound of boots crunching in the snow jolted her out of those calming thoughts, fear instantly pulsing through her. Was this Salem here to punish her? One of her lackeys, perhaps? Please not Tyrian, she begged inwardly, anyone but Tyrian.
“…Cinder?”
The voice wasn’t Salem’s. And it certainly wasn’t Tyrian’s. No, that voice was gentle, concerned. And achingly familiar.
She forced her eyes open, and there she was. Outlined against the gray sky, with snow falling all around her- Winter Schnee.
Winter’s eyes fell to the pool of blood that was growing ever-larger, and gasped, her gaze widening in horror, before she looked at Cinder in the face.
“Oh, Cinder…what happened to you?”
Battling against her forced-down joy, Cinder felt a rush of defiance at the note of pity in the other woman’s voice. She decided there was something worse than facing Salem’s wrath- dying in front of her stuck-up ex-girlfriends was a far worse fate, and she wasn’t having any of it.
“Get away from me,” She spat, tasting blood in her mouth. “Leave me alone.” She attempted to scramble away, her stiff fingers scuffing the snow as the blood pulsed more heavily from her wound, sending more pain shooting through her body.
Winter darted forward. “Don’t move, you’re making it worse!” Yeah, as if Cinder didn’t already know that.
“Don’t worry,” Winter soothed as she knelt beside Cinder, cleaning misunderstanding why Cinder was trying to get away. “I won’t hurt you. You need help…Gods…you’re really hurt.”
No shit! Cinder didn’t have the energy to keep trying to get away as Winter wrapped those warm arms around her and lifted her from the ground, propping her up against her shoulder.
“Fuck you.” She muttered.
Winter’s only response was a sigh. Then, a moment later, “I know an inactive base nearby. There should be medical supplies there.” She began walking, practically dragging Cinder along with her.
Frustration swarmed alongside Cinder’s pain and defiance. This wasn’t fair. Why was Winer so stubborn that she wouldn’t even allow Cinder to die, as she deserved? Surely, she’d no longer care about that.
But she let you go, a tiny voice inside her whispered, all those months ago, she let you go, when she could have locked you up for good.
Cinder didn’t know what to think. She didn’t deserve to live, she didn’t know what she’d do if she did live, but she also didn’t want to die with Winter pitying her like this. And a small part of her couldn’t deny that this felt nice. To be in Winter’s arms again, even in circumstances like this, was annoyingly comforting. Better, at least, than bleeding out into the cold snow.
She didn’t have the energy for this. She didn’t have the energy for fighting her feelings and feeling frustrated over her conflict. As Winter carried her gently through the snow, she let herself relax.
It had been about an hour since Winter and Cinder had made it to the watchtower, where Winter had partially undressed Cinder and wrapped her in bandages that still seeped with blood even though multiple layers. Cinder had tried her hardest not to let her thoughts show too obviously as Winter’s fingers had gently brushed her skin, like in the old days. And from the way Winter avoided her gaze, Cinder guessed that she’d been doing the same. It was all-too-easy to be reminded of when things between them had been so much better,
So, in that whole hour, they’d not exchanged a word, or even locked gazes. Cinder knew what would happen if they did. And the worst part was, she was growing less and less opposed to the idea.
The fire that Winter had managed to start in the middle of the room was the best source of warmth Cinder had, even despite the blanket around her shoulders, and she clung to it desperately. The warmth…it was all she’d longed for. Fire was special in that way. It could be so destructive, and so wild, and yet it was light, warmth, and life. Even the most ferocious blaze brought benefits. And this warmth was one Winter had provided for her. How could she fight that? How could she go on like this, when Winter was the only person in the world who had ever brought her light?
For three years, they’d been so close, before everything had come crashing down when Winter had made her choice clear. And yet even after Winter had chosen the military over her, even after she’d shattered her entire reason for living…Cinder knew how she still felt. Those feelings had never gone away.
Sitting slumped against the wall, she turned her head slightly to look at Winter. The other woman was sitting right next to Cinder, staring straight ahead at the fire, an orange glow softening her features and gently contrasting the blue of her Atlas military outfit. There had never been a moment in Cinder’s life where she hadn’t thought Winter was the most beautiful person she’d ever seen.
Cinder drew in a breath through her nose. She gave up.
“I’m scared, Winter,” She said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I think I’m in this too deep.”
Winter pulled her gaze from the fire and turned it on Cinder. There was a question in her eyes that Cinder didn’t want to answer. Thankfully, Winter didn’t ask it.
Instead, came, “I’m scared too.” There was fear in Winter’s eyes, along with confusion, and a deep worry. “This…isn’t what I thought it would be.”
So, there it was then. Winter was seeing the harsh truth of the military and Cinder had managed to fall in with a group led by an all-powerful being of pure evil. What a pair they made.
Before she could stop it, something bubbled up inside Cinder. The bubble burst out as a giggle, a chuckle, and then a full-blown laugh that rocked her whole body and threatened to shake the blanket from her shoulders. Perhaps it was the blood loss, maybe it was the absurdity of the situation. Probably both.
At first, Winter stared at her in surprise and confusion. Then, a smile cracked her face. Probably the first smile she’d expressed in ages. And then, she was laughing as hard as Cinder, to the point of tears forming in the corner of her eyes. Cinder had waited years to hear that laugh again.
The laughter was bittersweet, aching with amusement, fear, and utter exhilaration. It was so ridiculous that they’d ended up this way, when just a few years ago, they’d harbored dreams of becoming great heroes, and now they were here at rock bottom, covered in blood and aching with weariness.
There was no way that Cinder could have stopped herself at that point, not in that rush of emotion. She barely knew what she was doing as she leaned over to Winter, and yet, she was somehow also fully aware of every part of her body. Their lips joined in a kiss, their first in over two years. Winter didn’t resist, her fire-warmed hands raising to caress Cinder’s face. And Cinder realized it was all she’d wanted to do, and all she’d wanted to feel, in all that time.
After what seemed like forever, Winter drew back. Cinder opened her eyes to see Winter’s, soft and blue and swimming with the same longing Cinder felt, before she leaned her forehead against Cinder’s with a sigh.
“I’ve missed you.”
And then they kissed again, but this time, neither of them pulled away. They only drew closer, closer than they’d been in years. The blanket fell from Cinder’s shoulders, or maybe Winter had pulled it away. It didn’t matter; Cinder didn’t need its warmth. She had Winter’s now, at least just for that moment, and it was all she’d ever needed.
As soft hands ran over her shoulders, Cinder’s lips found Winter’s neck, as if she was barely controlling them herself. She was letting her body do what it had longed for now, and Winter was doing the same. Maybe it was wrong, maybe they were only setting themselves up for disaster, but Cinder didn’t care about that. Not right now. She didn’t care what happened afterward, so long as she could have this moment.
Cinder woke to find her face buried in Winter’s chest and their arms intertwined. She breathed in Winter’s scent, not wanting to let it go. If it were up to her, she’d be content to lie here forever, on the floor of this military base with the person she cared for most in the world. Unfortunately, she knew life would have other plans.
Winter stirred, and Cinder forced herself to sit up. As she did, pain shot through her, and she drew in a sharp breath through her nose, clutching at her bandages. She’d almost forgotten about her wound.
“Are you okay?”
Cinder turned to look down at Winter as the other woman murmured the words, rolling slightly to look up at Cinder in concern, her hair loose from the bun it was usually tied up in.
Cinder forced the pain away. “I’m alright. Just moved too quickly.”
Winter sat up, concern still in her gaze. “We didn’t…I didn’t hurt you last night, did I?”
Cinder shook her head. “No, don’t worry,” She sighed wistfully. “But I don’t think I’d have noticed if you did anyway.”
She expected Winter to chuckle at the quip, but she still looked worried. Cinder sensed the question before she asked it.
“Cinder…how did you get wounded that badly?”
Cinder was tempted to lie and say it had just been a Grimm, but she knew Winter wasn’t stupid enough to fall for that, when the wound was clearly from a sword and not teeth or claws. She would have to tell her the truth.
Sitting back against the wall, she drew a shaky breath. It was a moment before she finally answered the question. “I…Winter, I fucked up.”
Winter blinked slowly at her, sympathy in her gaze. “I think we’ve both done that. But you’re going to have to be more specific.”
“I met…this woman,” Cinder admitted. “Her name is Salem. She told me she recognized that I wanted to make the world better for people like me and told me she could help. At first, I believed her, but…” She looked away, remembering the horrors she’d seen since that day. “Winter, she’s not like anything I’ve ever seen. I thought she wanted to help, but that was never the case. She has plans…horrible, twisted plans.” She tried not to shake. “She’s a monster, Winter.” She lowered her voice so that it was barely more than a whisper. “Like me.”
Winter’s eyebrows drew together in concern. “Cinder, you’re not-”
“Don’t tell me I’m not.” Cinder was unable to keep the sharpness from her voice, feeling back when Winter drew back slightly. She forced herself to calm down, staring at the glowing coals of the now-dead fire. “Winter, you don’t know what I’ve done.”
Winter relaxed, staring at Cinder softly. “So tell me then.”
Cinder hesitated. This wasn’t something she wanted to think about. And it wasn’t something she’d ever wanted Winter to know. But what was the point in hiding it anymore? Why keep hiding the truth of what kind of person she really was?
“I told you I grew up in an orphanage,” She started. “And I told you about my step-family. But I never told you what happened to them.”
Winter gazed at her in confusion. “You told me than man helped you get away from them? What was his name, Rhodes?”
Cinder flinched inwardly at the name. “I lied,” She half-whispered. “I…nobody took me away from them. Rhodes trained me in combat, but I was stuck with my step-family for several more years. Until I took action.”
She started to shake. Every part of her mind was screaming at her not to tell Winter what she’d done. Don’t let her see the monster. Don’t tell her what you did.
Suddenly, Winter’s hand was on her shoulder. “Cinder, hey,” The other woman spoke gently. “Forget it. You don’t have to tell me.”
“Winter, You don’t get it,” Cinder croaked, the images flashing into her mind. “I killed them.” Tears sprung into her eyes. She saw his face again. “I almost killed Rhodes too. He walked in, he- he was going to take me in. We fought and I had my chance, but…” She saw the fear on his face. The shame. “I couldn’t do it. I injured his legs so he couldn’t follow me, and I ran. All the way back to Mistral.” She buried her face in her arms. “Winter, I’m a murderer. A monster.”
There was silence, aside from Cinder’s staggered breathing. And then:
“No. You’re not.”
Cinder looked back up at Winter. “How can you say-”
Winter cut her off, eyes narrowed. “Self-defense and cold-blooded murder are not the same thing,” She insisted. “And you’re not a bad person for doing the former.”
Cinder shook her head desperately. She could bring herself to understand that, but that wasn’t the real problem. “But what about Rhodes? Winter, I almost killed the only friend I’ve ever had.” Until you.
Winter scoffed, her gaze still sharp. “Some friend.”
Cinder stared at her. “…What?”
“You were a teenager, right?” At Cinder’s nod, Winter continued. “You were a kid. And this guy, this Rhodes, he saw a kid being abused, and did what? Teach you to fight, only to turn against you for freeing yourself the only way you could?”
Something stirred in Cinder. She’d never even thought about that before.
“This man saw a child suffering and decided to let her keep going through that, instead of contacting the authorities or getting you out of there himself,” Winter continued. “Maybe he had good intentions, but he was not your friend. And you can’t blame yourself for defending yourself against him when he tried to take you in for doing nothing wrong.”
“I…” Cinder didn’t know what to say. She’d spent years feeling guilty over that night, tearing herself up over it, believing she was past the point of no return. But Winter made points nobody ever had to her before. She huffed, wiping her face with her bandages. “That’s uh…kind of funny to hear from a military officer.”
Winter looked away, her gaze darkening. “Yeah, well, it’s like I said. That hasn’t exactly been going well for me.” She leaned her head against the wall. “You were right about that place, Cinder. About the whole system. The more time I spent there, the more it just felt like being with my father again.” She shook her head lowering it, before turning a sorrowful gaze on Cinder, more emotions swimming in those blue depths than Cinder had seen from her in a long time. “Cinder, I’m so sorry. For everything.”
Cinder felt herself soften as the warmth from last night returned to her heart. Those were words she never thought she’d hear, not in a million years. But oh, how she’d wanted to. A selfish part of her almost wanted to say ‘I told you so’, but she held herself back.
“I’m sorry too,” She admitted softly. “Maybe if I’d just been more patient…”
Winter shook her head insistently. “No. I can’t blame you for being upset. I understand now.”
Cinder sighed, leaning against the wall. Everything was out in the open now, but the weight on her chest was only partially lifted. Serious problems still remained, ones that even hiding away in this watchtower wouldn’t solve.
“So…” She asked hesitantly, after a moment’s silence. “What do we do now?”
Winter gazed ahead, her face troubled. “I don’t know,” She admitted, sighing. “This is a mess.”
Cinder wrapped her arms slightly around herself, feeling another pulse of pain from her wound. Salem had probably realized by now that something had gone wrong with the mission. She’d be sending someone to come and look for her before too long.
“Winter, I can’t go back to Salem,” She admitted softly, her voice shaking slightly. “She sent me to kill one of her enemies, and I failed.” She stared at the ground, hollow fear rising inside her. “I don’t know what she’s going to do to me.”
Winter’s gentle stare flicked from Cinder’s wound to her face, before her gaze hardened. “She’s not going to do anything to you.” She said softly.
Cinder looked up at her.
“She’s not going to do anything to you,” Winter repeated, “Because we’re going to run.”
Cinder felt her eyes widen, shocks settling in at the statement. “We’re going to what?”
Winter looked resolute as she got to her feet. “You can’t go back to Salem, and I refuse to go back to serving a military that exploits the weak and has no limit as to what they’ll do to maintain order,” She stated. “So, we’re going to run. And we’re going to figure out how to fight back.”
Cinder stared, her shock growing, hardly believing what Winter was saying. She scrambled to her feet, ignoring the pain. “You want to fight Salem?” The entire Atlas government was one thing, but Salem was not to be trifled with.
“Well, not directly, obviously,” Winter replied. She started to pace. “We can start by finding out more about her, probably in one of the other kingdoms. And as we go, we can still keep up our huntsman duties from the shadows, so long as I’m not recognized once Atlas deems me a fugitive.” She stopped in front of Cinder and stared deeply at her. Cinder hadn’t seen that blazing confidence since they were young, and it fired a spark in her own heart.
“Are you sure about this?” She asked. “You don’t know what Salem is capable of.”
“No,” Winter replied, “But I can find out, and I want you by my side as I do it,” She gazed into Cinder’s eyes in a way that made her want to fight ten thousand Grimm for her. “If you’re willing.”
Cinder held herself back from jumping in with an immediate ‘yes’. She couldn’t find herself able to tear her gaze away from Winter’s though, and forced herself to ask:
“What about…us? As we were?”
Winter’s gaze softened with a slight sadness, and she looked away slightly. “I…I don’t know if we can be as we were,” She admitted, echoing Cinder’s own thoughts. “I don’t know if I’m in the position to manage a relationship,” She smiled slightly, “As great as last night was.” She met Cinder’s eyes again, looking hopeful. “But to work together as partners would suit me just fine.”
Cinder gazed at her, trying to register everything that had happened in the past day, or even just the past hour. It seemed unreal, that things had turned around so drastically. That just one moment with Winter had softened her up and made her reconsider everything she thought about herself, and about Winter as well. How annoying. And yet, how amazing. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to wrap her head around the way Winter Schnee made her feel, but maybe that was the fun of it all. Maybe that was worth something.
She smiled. “Okay. Partners it is.”