“Yeah. You do”

The confirmation she didn’t need to hear, she already knew. She intimidated everything and everyone no matter where she was, that is how she would be the rest of her life. A force that everyone would be scared of, a force with no future of settling. Ilyana wasn’t mad at Ivan, even if it came off that way. She was mad at herself, furious that she had let herself get hurt. Furious that she had seemed weak enough that he ordered help. Furious that she let it happen.

She was not good with her emotions, she never knew how to handle them, especially these new feelings. Why did she care so much about what he thought? He was simply just an associate for this war, nothing else. Once this was over there would be nothing and she would go back to her peaceful, lonely life. She had learned just like him that your emotions are to be hidden, bury them deep inside because they do not matter.

That is what she tried to do. Before her mouth could spill anything else, she had laid herself down. Let her mind overthink and ramble rather than her mouth. As her body let her drift just slightly into a state of sleep, her mind replayed her little fight, as if a teacher was retraining their student. Forcing her to go over ways she could have avoided injury and killed them all. It was so vivid for her, sometimes she hated her dreams more than nightmares. She always felt as if she was there.

The shivering and trembling Ivan saw was not caused by the chill, Ilyana was more than comfortable with this temperature. Instead it was the small reflexes of her sleeping body in its dream state. The sting of metal across her skin, the sudden flinches from a blow. Like she had said, there was no such thing as peace for her.

This all ended as soon as she felt the furs that covered her body move and a form slip beside her. Ilyana’s breath hitched in her throat and paused, her eyes shooting open as Ivan laid down beside her. His arms were careful as they slid around her waist, gently avoiding her bandage yet strong enough to pull her against his frame. The hairs on her skin raised with goosebumps, her stomach twisting as he spoke.

Her body felt locked in a fight or flight moment, unable to do anything. What was he doing? Why was he doing this? It felt like a spell had been casted over her, keeping her from speaking. Ivan let his body settle, so easily as well, his breathing soft and steady beside her as he slipped into slumber within minutes of laying down. For some time Ilyana just laid there, frozen and stiff as she stared at the canvas in front of her. She didn’t know what to do.

A strange feeling had begun to slip over her though as heat radiated from his body, encasing hers as well. Her eyelids had become heavy and it was being so hard to keep them open though she fought. Her body and mind felt…safe. Like a weight had been lifted from her, making her feel weightless. Without truly knowing she had slipped back asleep, it was just for warmth…nothing more.

For the first time in what may be her life, Ilyana slept through the night. There were no nightmares, no vivid dreams. It was finally peaceful. The two were still against each other for warmth through the night. Their breaths had slowed and became one, matching each other's rhythm. At some point, who knows when, Ilyana had turned in the night, now facing Ivan. His head rested just above hers, his arm still gently but firm over her waist. The shadows had seemed to dissipate through the night, retreating outside and letting the dying brazier’s embers light the canvas. Slowly as the moon came to rest, the slight mumbles of men outside and bustle as people woke sounded.

Ilyana was gone to the world and everything in it, sleeping as if she was a corpse laying on that bedroll. Her chest rose and fell softly, her face holding a peaceful look instead of discomfort. Her body had needed this so much, it was going to take every moment it could. Surprisingly Ilyana did not wake through the commotion that had presented itself, merely just letting out a soft sigh and moving in the bedroll. Her arm rested beside her face, as if blocking the light from disturbing her, her body shifting under the furs that covered her form.

Ilyana would be in for a surprise when she woke up, and it was coming. As Ivan left the confines of the tent, Ilyana began to stir not too long after. It felt disorienting waking up from such a long time asleep, her body and mind not used to it. But as soon as the cool air rippled across her skin, she was wide awake. She sat up quickly, wincing harshly as the wound on her side. Her eyes popped open, as she looked around. He was gone. She instantly remembered what had happened, how could she not. It still felt as if his strong grip was against her waist, the warmth of his body heating her back. Her mind spun quickly, a range of emotions swirling through her body, honestly making her feel sick, or that could be not having eaten in some time. Shaking her head, Ilyana quickly stood from the bed, glancing at it for a moment before she moved to the small wooden box the servants had supplied her with to keep her belongings. While the coast was clear she slipped into an all black dress, the patterning on it like that of a dragon's scales.

While she listened to the men outside the tent gather, eat and just have this moment of early morning light to chatter, she sat in solitude, using her fingers to brush out her hair and braid it back out of her face. All while her mind played back flashes of the night before. The fight, flying…laying down. She couldn’t shake the feeling, as if a ghost had their arm around her, a feeling she had never felt before.

When Ilyana had finally left the tent, it seemed to quiet just a bit, eyes instantly looking in her direction. Her heart pounded, were they looking at her still from her actions, or did they know something. With a quick look and furrowed brows given from Ilyana, quickly the men all looked away and went back to how they were, though there were of course still some mumbles.

Ilyana moved past the groups of men, straight to the tent that was serving food. Grabbing herself a plate she shortly thanked the man and found a place near a tree to sit and eat. She ate what she could, her stomach still in a knot, soon bringing the metal plate back. As she glanced around the camp, watching as men prepared horses and suited themselves in armor, knowing the journey would start soon, Ilyana caught sight of Ivan making his way back into the tent.

Quickly she made her way over, her eyes locked on her target as she shifted through men. Once there she pushed the flaps of the door out of her way, the canvas fluttering closed. Moving towards Ivan she was quick with her actions. Pushing his shoulder to spin him towards her, she pointed a finger, almost poking the armor that protected his chest.

“Whatever that was last night, don't do it again, understand?”

Her eyes bore holes into his own, her face just inches away. Even in these conditions, far from home and in the middle of a war, the sweet amber aroma radiated off her skin and hair, her deadly poison. After a moment more of the stare down with death she finally stepped away, turning and moving back towards her belongings to fully get ready. Since they were closing in on enemy territory and trying not to make a huge scene, Ilyana now adorned her waist with a sword and sheath. The quieter the kill, the better.

Ilyana was ready, ready for all of this to be over and for her to be home. Her presence among the men was becoming unnerving. After seeing what she could do that night before, the men around her were cautious, on their toes that she may do the same to them. She walked with an air of power, a large form of shadows trailing the ground behind her as she moved through the hustle and bustle of camp. Something was clearly on her mind.

She stood on the outskirts of the encampment for some time, opposite of where Ivan and Wraith stood preparing for the long day ahead. Her arms laid crossed over her body, her eyes watching everything and everyone. Ilyana only returned to his side when the count returned back, the man’s flushed face glancing slightly to her. She was quiet as she listened to him explain what he saw, mentally taking a note for when she would go scout. And just like that, she had her information so she was ready to go, a head start was needed. Turning once again she made her way down to the clearing Diaval waited in, swiftly mounting. The adrenaline had caused the pain from her wound to subside, completely irrelevant at that moment. Diaval grumbled deeply as he began to walk forward, moving up towards where the camp was. His tail swayed in between the trees, the ground shivering at each footfall. When they neared, men hurriedly stepped back though still watched in awe, how could anyone become used to seeing a dragon amongst their ranks?

The camp had been cleared enough that there was room for Diaval to move through, the beast stopping before Ivan.

Ilyana looked down to him, her eyes still holding the storm that raged inside. Diaval was restless, he could feel the impending war coming. He shook his large frame, smoke trailing up into the sky from his nostrils. It was like an oversized dog excited to play. Ilyana finally spoke, her voice a command rather than a suggestion.

“I’ll fly ahead and see what is going on. Bring the men up but Do Not pass the peaks. Wait for me to come back so we can devise a plan. We need to keep this attack quiet.” She said, her voice sharp and to the point.

She gave Ivan not a moment to speak or protest before Diaval was already on the move, his form pushing forward and heading out of the clearing. Finding enough room he took to the sky, the trees below bending and creaking under the power of his wings. She was gone once again.

Ilyana soared above the clouds as she moved towards where the first group was seen, Diaval keeping his wings closer to him, staying quiet. Ilyana waved her hand and mumbled something, a form of shadows covering them, an illusion to make them blend with the clouds. The scout was right, there was a group below waiting at the rivers bend, this time though, they had formed a few sets of groups, plotting out.

Diaval silently began his descent to a high peak, skillfully perching himself on top as Ilyana looked down. Her brows furrowed as she watched them, waiting to see if they would do anything before she was to report back. They all just…stood there. Maybe they believed Caler’s army would just be a small group, thinking they would finish them out quickly. She didn’t know, but it brought a feeling of worry to the pit of her stomach.

Ilyana stayed there, longer than she may have wanted, but she wanted to be sure, her eyes watching the trees around them, was there more hiding? She didn’t feel anything lurking in the shadows. At first.

A small twinge pulled her attention to the trees on her side of the river, feeling something. Something moving. Adjusting her position she watched for a moment, it was spread out. Quickly she winnowed into the shadows below, looking for whatever had tripped her nerves. Soldiers.

Ivan did not listen to her, Caler’s soldiers began to make their way down the mountain, using the shadows and trees to sneak quietly. Rage filled Ilyana’s chest, why didn’t he just wait. These men did not know what was ahead of them, they had changed positions since the last scout reported back. It was too late.

Ilyana froze as the mountain beneath the men cracked and crumbled, the waves of ice and snow tumbling down. Her eyes went wide, her chest tightening as the roar erupted and echoed. She could do nothing at that moment, there was no stopping the avalanche as it tore down towards the river. Her eyes scanned the piles of snow, looking for Ivan, finally taking a breath as she could see the light of fire streaking through. The enemy was down for a moment, men’s yells being muffled by snow and ice, others trying to move around the piles of white that blocked their view.

Ilyana stayed at her viewpoint, waiting for the right moment to step in. Though at this point she felt like she wouldn’t. Why couldn’t he have waited, they could have easily split and flanked the enemy to keep things quiet. That plan was ruined. She stood her ground, her blue eyes watching the men below. Swords clashing echoed through the trees, the white snow illuminated in orange as fire flew across the air, blood stained the water. Diaval continued to groan and grumble, an impatient creature who truly just wanted a snack. Ilyana raised her hand just a bit, as if a cue to hold Diaval back, receiving a long and loud snort in return.

She waited just a few minutes more before it seemed the fight was evening out. When more and more Caler soldiers began to falter and fall, she knew it was time to step in. Darkness began to rise up her fingertips, her eyes shifting to their bright white appearance. With ease she winnowed down to the battlefield, her form appearing beside Ivan. Shadows ripped off the bottom of her dress like a deep, black smoke, swirling like a brewing storm. Ilyana did not want to use much of her power yet, she could not waste any strength. Instead she pulled the sword from the sheath on her hip, wielding it firmly in her hand. Quickly moving forward she began her attack, her blows swift and strong. She moved like the wind, ducking and twisting as she avoided each blow.

As Ivan dealt with one mage, another was already advancing behind him. Quickly she turned, her arm extending forward, a ball of shadows shooting from her palm and hitting the Elorian soldier like a cannonball. The two worked swiftly together, advancing across the river and defeating the enemy, all while protecting each other and their men.

“When this is over, I am going to kill you, you idiot” She grumbled to him, half jokingly, half maybe not. A larger group of Elorian soldiers formed into a wall, swords rising up. Ilyana’s eyes only grew brighter, her brows furrowing deeply as blood dripped and speckled her face.

“Nābēmagon!” (Attack!) she yelled loudly, stopping in her tracks, extending her hand to her side and across Ivan’s chest, halting him as well. Within seconds a deafening screech echoed in the air, the large dragon pushing off the peak and swooping down to the clearing. Diaval growled loudly, his tail whipping across the snowy ground and knocking the wall of men feet away. A cloud of snow flurries erupted into the air, the wall of white hiding the scene before the two, that was until the large outline of the beast pushed forward, snatching soldiers in his jaws. The sounds of bones cracking and metal crunching was a horrid sound, the painful screams somewhat haunting.

Ivan didn’t even flinch at Ilyana’s sudden appearance, though his jaw clenched at the snarl of her voice beside him. He spun around to blast another soldier aside with a plume of fire, his voice rising in a sharp, frustrated bark. “Yes, I’m aware! I’m looking forward to it!”

The moment the words left his mouth, a harsh whistle sliced through the air. He barely turned in time to see a hail of crescent-shaped shards of ice arcing toward him like daggers. One grazed his upper arm, another raked across his ribs with searing cold, and the third struck his thigh, tearing through the exposed leather of his armor and drawing a hiss of pain from between his teeth.

“Augh!” Ivan staggered sideways, thrown from Wraith’s back as the stallion reared in response. The world spun as he hit the ground hard, the breath knocked clean from his lungs. Snow pressed against his cheek, and for a split second, he lay still, eyes flickering up toward the bright sky above. The mountain roared around him, steel on steel, flame on frost. He wanted to lie there for a second longer, maybe just until the world stopped ringing like a cracked bell, but the scrape of boots near his head jolted him upright. A soldier lunged at him, and Ivan rolled, catching the blade with a burning grip and forcing the man back with a short, vicious swing.

He pushed to his feet with a grunt, blood staining his side, his fire magic crackling dimly in one hand. His sword – gods knew where it had gone. No time to look. He grabbed the nearest weapon, a fallen knight’s dual sabers, and yanked the pair free from the snow. When he finally spotted Ilyana again, she was a storm incarnate, shadows lashing from her form, her eyes burning that eerie white. Ivan cut through two more soldiers to reach her, sliding into position with his back to hers, the heat from his fire rippling through the air as they spun and struck in perfect unison.

“For the record –” Ivan shouted over the clash of swords, “I did wait! Two gods-damned hours on that peak!”

He spun and slashed forward, one sword hissing as it bit into another Elorian chest.

“I was worried, alright?” he snapped, swinging both blades and cleaving through another foe. “Not about you getting hurt, or- or captured or anything – just…”

He grunted and ducked under a spear. “Disappearing for too long without a word, vanishing into the damned sky like you always do – it’s – irritating!”

It was a poor lie. Even he could hear the desperation in his tone, the undercurrent of guilt he tried to bury. His magic surged hotter, his swings faster. A few Elorian soldiers hesitated, taken aback by the sheer volume of his shouting, only to be cut down a second later.

“Stop looking at me like that!” he shouted at one gawking man before driving the blade through his midsection. “You lot are worse than the court!”

Blood sprayed across his armor. He kicked another soldier down, just as the snow swirled violently to their left. A wind-chilling presence approached, the temperature dropping like a stone. Another Ice Mage, this one older, cloaked in runes of pale silver, eyes crackling with cold magic, raised his hand, and the air around Ivan shimmered with frost.

Ivan lunged first, both blades raised, but the mage was faster. A spike of ice shot up from the ground, slamming into his chest and knocking him back a step. The fire in his palm flickered as cold swept through him.

“Not this time,” he growled, forcing the heat through his limbs. He lunged again, slashing with both swords- but the mage countered, surrounding himself in a whirling shield of frost that knocked one blade aside and slammed Ivan’s shoulder with a blast of freezing wind.

He stumbled back, one knee buckling in the snow. His breath caught in his throat. The mage began chanting, frost creeping up the surrounding rocks as he prepared a larger spell.

Ivan’s magic sparked weakly, drained from the fight, from the cold, from the wound in his side still leaking warmth down his leg. He rose slowly, one blade while picking the other up from the ground, even as his vision darkened at the edges in throbbing pulses.

“You picked the wrong prince,” he muttered, mostly to himself. The frost gathered into dozens of sharp projectiles aimed directly at his chest. The Ice Mage let them fly. Ivan crossed both swords before him, bracing for the impact, while forcing the rest of his reserves into a last, furious blast of flames. Apparently, he'd had more in him than originally anticipated, as a wide circle of billowing fire roared out from the prince’s body and raced in a growing radius. The mage, being as cold as he was with his own abilities, shattered along with his icicles upon impact. Ivan’s injured leg gave out, causing him to fall to a half kneeling position, with a tiny, “Ow.”

As Diaval dealt with a decent sized group of men, contently eating and tearing them apart, Ilyana focused back on the next group that appeared. Even though she was furious with Ivan, now was not the time to argue, that could wait until later. Her lungs burned with each breath as she pushed forward, taking on each man that moved towards them. Her sword swung through the air with force, blood trickling down the silver steel. Her teeth gritted hard against each other, her eyes only growing brighter with each step. Soldier after soldier lunged, striked, jumped, did anything they could to bring the witch down, almost as if there was a target on her back. They seemed almost bloodthirsty, the way the desperation lit up their eyes.

A few mages seemed quite the opponent for Ilyana, a mixture of shadow and ice colliding in the air. Her form rippled through the shadows, swiftly moving from the enemy as shards of ice soared and whistled. Ilyana’s head whipped around as she heard Ivan shout, her eyes catching the moment as Wraith reared into the air, Ivan’s body falling harshly to the ground. As she was distracted for just a moment, a mage sent more spears of ice through the air, one making contact with Ilyana’s shoulder, piercing through. She let out a painful shout as the spear lodged itself, a flash of white erupting from her eyes. She turned sharply as she looked at the enemy, her hand reaching up and grasping the spear. With a swift pull, she yanked the spear from her shoulder, tossing the blood stained ice to the ground. Shadows swirled around her rapidly as the storm grew, her form moving faster and faster as the mage began to stumble back. Reaching forward, the shadows flew from her arm like a raging arrow, swirling around the mages neck and tightening. He clawed as the darkness, his face growing pale before a loud crack echoed.

The anger was only building more and more inside Ilyana, the shadows now starting to move on their own. They snaked across the snow and ice towards the enemy soldiers, slipping up their forms and encasing them in shadow. When it faded, only the slumped bodies remained, dead. As Ivan made it back to his feet, sliding back towards Ilyana, his voice and words were gasoline to the fire. “If you would have waited like I said, this could have been avoided.” She snapped, her voice laced with venom.

“I was perfectly fine, I knew what I was doing. You just don’t trust me” She added, spinning around as she swung her sword, the metal slicing into the neck of an enemy. The two fought side by side as much as they could, even with their arguments. Though soon they were separated. Ice formed around Ilyana’s ankles, a blast of cold wind knocking her down and sending her body tumbling down a steep hill. Her shoulder slammed into a rock hidden in snow, sending a sharp sting to course through her bones. Another blast of ice fell onto her chest, the wind escaping her lungs. Her white eyes flickered until shifting back to their blue form, Ilyana’s body laying motionless as snow flurried down. It felt almost impossible to breathe at that moment, her throat burning from the cold.

A mage soon appeared in her vision, the man looking down to her with an eerie smile. Her fingers tightened into a small, weak fist as she tried to turn her body over to stand, failing. The mages boot connected with her ribs, sending her body crumbling over as she let out a painful, shrill yell. Again, and again. Her vision grew dull as she finally was able to pull herself over the rock, shielding her for just a moment. Her eyes looked up the side of the hill, watching as Ivan stumbled back, his fire flickering weakly. Instantly a surge of fear rippled through her veins, a tight feeling in her chest as she watched the strong Ice Mage gain on him.
This must have been just enough to push her just the bit she needed, Ilyana finally clenching her teeth, darkness spreading up her hands once again. The enemy that was closing in on her swiftly grabbed her by her hair, throwing her across the show. Her body plowed through the white powder and towards the icy river. He stormed towards her, a spear of ice forming in his hand. Raising it up he aimed to slam it down on her, plunging it towards her heart. Silence. The man froze in his tracks, darkness swirling from her hands and up around his neck and chest, snap.

Ilyana’s head fell back into the snow for a moment, her eyes still flickering between white and blue. Panic still raced through her veins, instantly looking back towards the top of the hill where Ivan was. She pulled herself to her feet, weakly sprinting up the edge, clawing the snow with her hands. Her energy was draining, she wouldn’t last much longer with the blood loss she had. As Ivan fell into a half kneeling position, his guard faltering for just a moment, another enemy was quickly approaching from behind, sword in hand and ready to strike. Ilyana moved faster, her flickering eyes wide as she crested the top. With one last bit of energy she had left, she stumbled forward, her hand grasping onto Ivan’s arm. Right as the enemy’s sword kissed the metal of his armor, her eyes brightly shot white. Ivan and Ilyana winnowed into a shadow of darkness, wind whipping around them, their bodies disappearing and reappearing at the top of the mountain where more of their men were.

Ilyana barely pulled herself to her knees when she shouted down below, “Retreat!”, her strained voice calling for their men. Instantly Caler’s men pulled back, sprinting up the hill as the remaining Elorian men formed into a wall once more. Ilyana knelt in the slow, one hand grasping her ribs while the other kept her upright. Her eyes watched the men move before shouting once more, “Dracarys!”. A deep, guttural bellow sounded in the silence, followed by a high toned squeal, almost so loud it was inaudible. Flames erupted from the mouth of the dragon below, covering the wall of Elorian men. Screams sounded as the forms of burning men flailed in the light of the flames, Diaval moving forward, wings and tail smashing the remainders down. Only one man surviving it all, the gods on his side as he retreated into the woods.