Chapter Text
"They never lose hope when everything's cold and the fighting's near."
˖⁺. ༶ Legends Never Die - Against The Current˖⁺. ༶
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Clickclack. Clickclack. Clickclack. Clickclack.
The hooves of a horse shooting over the freezing surface of the Icespire valleys, the mountains of which tower over anyone who dares to come close to the snow-filled region. Clouds partly obscure the peak of the mountain the horse and her companion are approaching rapidly, a monumental scene visible even from within Phandalin, where their two fellow adventurers are still staying, or should be, still in blissful slumber. The stone fortress hidden beneath the layers of ice and rock haunts the citizens of the town like a lowly beast in a royal mansion, sending even the most daring fighter running off.
Yet, the two adventurers run towards it. The white horse chases the howling wind as though it's another companion to embrace, the rhythm made by every step threatening to cause avalanches, yet the fur blending in with the blinding brightness of winter's gem. The woman carried has an expression of determination, whereas the mighty mare appears to radiate a sort of uncertainty and hesitation. The high-elven archer, with her bow ready and her bourgondy red hair in two long braids, which are moving through the wind like restless branches of an oak. Her chainmail armour feels light on her shoulder, and her green shirt and skirt, meant to blend in with the colours of the forest, now stand out like a sore thumb.
"Maria, I still think we should just alert the others," the horse speaks in a tongue only her companion can understand. "There's no way you can fight a dragon on your own."
"I must, Faith. Knowing what I know now, I cannot choose to prolong it any longer. If that thing leaves before I ever get to kill it, then I lose all hope in getting my lover back."
"That's sweet of you and all, but you're still one person. And that's a whole ass dragon! I've seen you go from hunting bunnies to hunting, but this is like jumping off a cliff after learning to jump off the-" Faith stops herself, slowing down as her eyes fall on something unexpected. The unforgiving foothills of the Sword Mountains are temporarily forgotten as in the middle of the road a large box of ice acts as an obstacle to the two adventurers, revealing a strange creature frozen within.
Maria gets off of Faith, who approaches carefully and tilts her head. The archer as well takes a closer look, analysing the terrified facial expression of the ogre, forever stuck in the same position of fleeing. "He died less than a day ago," she concludes, catching sight as well of the enormous sack the ogre carries with it. "Do you have any spell to burn the ice?"
Faith grimaces, looking over her shoulder as if expecting judgement from someone Maria cares very little for, and eventually she sighs. "Mar, I'm not going to do anymore than I already did. As much as I support your reasons, I can't just help you in a mission that I'm not in support of. Or well, which form I'm not in support of."
"Fine," Maria grumbles. "Then I'll do it myself."
Out of her bag, the archer takes a book. It feels heavy in her hands, and the lack of author or title on the cover gives away no information to anyone who doesn't truly know what it's about. In confusion the druid blinks as she watches the ranger open the book and blow through the pages like a madman. "I didn't know you're a wizard."
"I'm not," Maria answers with a stoic face, startling the druid as she holds out her hand and curls the upper digits of her fingers, flicking with her thumb, whispering under her breath "ardeat", at which fire erupts out of her palm, melting away some of the ice to access the contents of the sack.
Faith grows increasingly uneasy as Maria takes the sack and goes through the contents, taking out three potions of healing and, after having rummaged through it, leaving all else inside with a grimace. "Well, that was barely any use. At least I got a few vials."
"Maria, this is genuinely insane," Faith hisses in alarm. "You can't beat that thing on your own, and I'm sure as hell not going to drag myself into death alongside you just because you're too stubborn to accept that!"
"I don't want you to. If you want to tell the others, go alert them. I'll be fine on my own." Maria chooses not to give Faith another look. The elf knows very well that she's getting herself into quite the situation, but unlike the other adventurers, she's on a time limit.
With the sound of Faith's gallopping disappearing into the distance, Maria walks up to the narrow trail, which clings to the mountainside as it twists around and up to the gatehouse of the fortress hidden beneath the blue and white. The path is too narrow for more than two people to walk alongside one another, so for another reason Maria is grateful to be on her own. She arrives at the gatehouse and lets herself in, passing through the filled stable already aware that she has been seen by the present mercenaries and thus not appearing to care and try to be quiet.
Out of one of the rooms that she passes, strangers arrive, a total of four. In the front is a lean woman, her red hair pulled back in a ponytail and wearing armour that surely leans heavily on her shoulders. In her hand she holds a knife, though it's evidently not used before in battle. "You mustn't pass through here, ma'am."
"Yes, I must. Someone is waiting for me in the fortress and I must get to him," Maria snarls, preparing to pass through and ignore them when the other woman present throws a handaxe right in front of her face, into the wall.
"We do not wish to fight," the leader clarifies, getting closer with a glare in her eyes that Maria at first thought to be her own. "Any sound, any scream can awake him. But if you're wise, Immaria, then you stay the fuck down."
At her real name, Maria's eyes narrow. Having by now placed her bow on her back, she takes out her shortsword, directing it towards the leader. "Then you better back down, because I am willing to wake it." She takes her own step closer, until she feels the breath of the opponent touch her own face. "How much did my mother pay you to make sure I wouldn't pass through?"
When the woman remains silent and doesn't respond, Maria can only scoff, before moving through to the stone bridge spanning the gap between the gatehouse and the main fortress. She doesn't dare herself to look over the railings down at the frozen river, but the view from the middle is already quite beautiful, and had she not had a clear goal in mind as of now, she might've even found herself enjoying it.
She holds her book close, just in case of emergency. To the gods she prays that Faith didn't recognize it: never before has she pulled it out in her dear friend's presence. While she had not acquired it throughout their friendship, rather it having been in her possession long before she and Faith met on that dark night in faraway woods, she nonetheless had always kept it a secret. After all, her friend was right to observe her as not a wizard. The closest to a wizard Maria is, is the former student of one, and what it is that drives her now to casting these spells is no mere curiosity, nor anything inherent. Call it love, call it desperation, call it an utter fear of losing the one person who made her feel free. Mortality has been thrown out of the window as Maria passes through a few more chambers, using some of the colder spells on the hostile creatures within, killing them in an instant. She knows she won't be the hero she's read about in books. She knows she won't be some honourable saviour in Phandalin, even if she succeeds in killing the dragon that has made the roof of the old fortress its home. Because she isn't just going to fight it. She's going to dissect it and take her jewel out with her own bare hands, not caring for the blood that'll stain them.
She climbs up, soon enough finding herself on the slippery ice covering the surface, at first threatening to bring her to the ground and wake up the dragon before she ever got to do anything.
Thankfully, it appears the gods are on her side as she manages to steady herself, scanning the environment carefully. Indeed, there rests the young white dragon. It seems not to need any softness or warmth, as it has not made itself a proper nest, simply having curled itself up while catching the freezing cold with its scales. Initially, Maria feels a foolish sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, her jewel rests somewhere around, either kept alive to make later a neat treat, or dead but not yet consumed? And for a moment, she's hopeful, as she catches sight of chains on the other end of the roof, forcing her to very carefully tread past the dragon.
Her heart beats in her chest. She wonders if the people from before already alarmed her mother, who stays far away from Phandalin, but has enough contacts here to send anyone after them if this were to be necessary. She wonders if Faith has by now reached the town and dragged Zhuzi out of bed, or just screamed the entire tavern awake. She wonders, she wonders, but it does not calm her.
She reaches the other side, and has to actively stop herself from cursing. While the chains are indeed there, nobody is in them anymore. Blood has met ice and become one with it, and not even a shoe is left, implying that the dragon fully ate the man she's looking to save, and not particularly recently either. She wants to scream. Gods, she wants to scream. To cry. To curse. To beg anyone who may be listenign to help her out here and stand by her side, give her her lover back.
But instead, she remains silent. Slowly she turns to the creature responsible, grabbing her bow again and putting her shortsword away, knowing very well that her aim is best when standing at a relative distance of her enemy. It is with this same bow before that she killed a mad scientist, desperate to prove that her invention was a hit, only for the thing to almost kill her party members. Back then, her intention had been just to shoot her in the hand, so she couldn't control it anymore. Instead, her arrow went through her hand right into her heart, killing the inventor on impact. Even when that happened she had expressed very little regret towards it. Rationally, she knows she should. She knows what she did ended a life, regardless of its innocence. But instead, she could only feel shocked by her own power.
And now, she wields a weapon much more powerful than just her bow. A book of various spells. From small illusions, to resurrection. It's not wise for her to wield this power. But she must. For her jewel.
Perhaps her mother was right. Perhaps she truly is a beast. Just not in the way her mother may have meant it.
She has no idea what using this book invites. Maybe after this, she'll be stuck haunted by the devil, seeking the cost she has yet to pay. Maybe after this, her soul and mind will be corrupted by the magic and she'll lose herself in her own insanity. Or maybe, just maybe, after this, she and her lover can do what they'd promised each other to do, and run away together to some far off place, living with a shared last name and forgetting their own history, needing just each other for peace.
Lost in her thoughts as she's going through the spells the book holds, she does not realize her enemy to have awoken, unless she feels a cold breeze hitting her from behind. Her mother can pay mercenaries. Her mother can lock an innocent man up in a place with a monstrous creature. But she cannot command a dragon. No duchess can command a dragon.
Maria turns around, finding the dragon's face to be too close for comfort. But she stares back at it, without fear. Whether the lack of fear can be seen as a manifestation of actual courage, reckless arrogance, or some strange desire for an end if her light is not returned to her, Maria can't say for sure. Neither can the dragon, whose enormous form prepares for an attack. Maria puts her book back in her bag, making sure her potions of healing are within reach, and already grabbing an arrow. For her jewel she will fight, for her jewel she will bleed. This dragon must die, so her lover can live.
When a blast of ice is shot right into her direction, Maria knows this fight won't be an easy one.