“Yeah, I’ll tell ya the story sometime, if ya wanna hear.” Ak’ka promised. Maybe over drinks after the job was done- half the fun of doin’ a job with other folks was the break that came after, that one small moment of unquiet peace when spirits and laughter were high and you joked around while celebrating the fact that you were all alive. If she was giving Ein the experience of what it meant to be a merc, she needed to show the kid that the fun parts of it as well.

There was the part you fought for your life and the right to put bread on your table- that part, Ak’ka relished, the glorious feeling of bathing in the blood of another and hearin’ the symphony of their screams. But there were kinder parts of the job as well, small as they were. It wasn’t needed for people like Ak’ka, who lived for the job. But others needed somethin’ to make that life worth living for.

And maybe some small part of Ak’ka wanted to show Ein the nicer parts of it all. If she was really gonna find herself doin’ hard work- the fighting, the hunting, the killing- then she needed something to keep that softness in her.

And if she liked stories, then Ak’ka’d give ‘em to her when this was all said and done.

The little lady was sharp to boot- she picked up on Ak’ka’s idea near instantly, letting her long hair down and hiding her Lance. Ak’ka wasn’t much one for fairytales, but for some reason, the sight reminded her of something she hadn’t thought of in a long time. Gentle hands braiding her hair, a voice soft like windchimes telling her a story. One about a princess locked in a tower whose hair was so long it could touch the ground below.

Huh. That was… a weird memory. She didn’t think her old man had ever bothered reading her bedtime stories.

Ein was waiting on her to make a move though, so Ak’ka rolled her shoulders back, ready to take a fake swing at the kid. “Alright, Rapunzel, let’s see what happens when you let down your hair.”

She swung, and Ein let out an ear-shattering scream that rustled the trees and sent what birds were left in this Salina-be-Forsaken forest flying everywhere.

Ak’ka didn’t actually hit Ein, ‘course. If she did she’s probably break every bone in the dragonling’s back, assuming dragons didn’t have bones made of pure, solid gold. But she had to make it look real as Ein attempted a dodge, pale cheeks colored pink in shock.

Ak’ka’s features contorted in rage, suddenly switching on a dime from real happiness to the battle-hardened thug she really was. The kind of brute from one of Ein’s stories that terrorized the princess. That was the kinda role she played best. In a booming voice nearly as loud as her scream, Ak’ka yelled, “That’s right, Princess, you’d better run, unless you wanna find out why they call me Bonegrinder.”

Those last words were spoken with an orc’s snarl, nearly lapsing into her native language as she spoke. Maybe that woulda worked better- orcish was a rough language, not exactly the prettiest, consderin’ it was made up of grunts and halting syllables.

She swung the tree again, letting out a bout of cruel, harsh laughter. Footsteps pounded against the ground, shaking loose the snow and dirt as the makeshift weapon sailed harmlessly over Ein’s head- another miss.

“NOWHERE TO RUN NOW, HUH?” She screamed, relishing the terror in Ein’s face the same way she would any of her enemies, ready to pummel her into the ground-

No. That was the bloodlust getting the better of her. Ein was her friend, not an adversary, and Ak’ka was pretty sure she was actually scaring the shit outta the kid right now with the act. Quieter this time, a bit of shame creeping into her chest like ice cold dread, Ak’ka leaned in and whispered, “Don’t worry. S’ just part of the act. I’m not actually gonna eat ya and bake ya into a pie or anything.”

She’d feel real bad if she actually scared Ein with her ugly mug of a face.

Apparently, though, she did a hell of a convincing enough job for anyone watching too, because that was the exact moment the world exploded around them in a flurry of snow and ice-cold wind, nearly knocking Ak’ka off her feet.

To say Ak'ka's performance was convincing would be a massive understatement.

Einheria can feel her eyes fly wide of their own accord at how narrowly the tree in Ak'ka's strong arms misses her, the ghost of pine needles whispering past her face, the air alone stinging with a promise of pain had she been even a few centimeters closer. It is astounding how quick the switch is, how easily the woman she's come to accept as a friend shifts from ever-so-slightly rough around the edges to as sharp and dangerous as the head of a flail, all spikes and chains and promises of violence should anyone come too close.

It is very much like a scene cut from the pages of a fairy tale, one where both parties play their role a little too well; Ak'ka's voice is thunderous, a tempest of murderous intent, however fabricated, and Einheria knows she plays the part of a delicate, wilting maiden well. It is a power she does not underestimate-- this human vessel is a vision of fragility, with deceptively thin limbs and a pensive face, so small and transient in contrast to the grandiosity of a dragon's blessed body. Most would not look at her and know she can swing a polearm with ease-- most would not know that a blizzard reigns beneath her skin, a promise of everwinter enclosed within those so-called feeble bones. It is an advantage, and she knows better than to take it lightly out in a world like this, even if it has hindered her before.

She lets out another piercing scream as the tree sails over her head, a panicked wail following the cry of distress; she has nothing to fear from Ak'ka, of course, and she knows this. Even if her heart beats a beat or two too quickly, even if her hands tremble just slightly, she knows it must be adrenaline more than it is fear-- she trusts Ak'ka not to harm her.

That trust only deepens as Ak'ka takes a moment to lean in, whispering that this is all part of the act.

"I know," Einheria whispers back, earnestness poured into her voice, in the glint in her eyes. "I trust you, Ak'ka."

She is about to cover the whisper with another harrowing scream when a whirl of snow and wind bursts to life around them, and even Einheria cannot help but cower a little, fruitlessly dodging the sting of the cold against her skin. She coughs quietly, peering through the vortex of white to catch sight of a shadow standing a short distance away, all the finer detail masked by the blur of wind and snow, but as soon as it passes, she knows their trap has worked.

A man stands there, a tenuous image of that wanted poster-- he dresses ostentatiously, hardly warm enough for this weather, with jewels and beads and glistening fabric assembled into  some form of overly expensive bathrobe, the kind clearly not made for any form of combat, with faux-fur bedroom slippers to match. His grey eyes have a smokey shadow around them, one that is a clear testament to yesterday's forgotten makeup if Einheria squints at it for long enough, and his glittering earrings are mismatched-- one gold ring, one shining green jewel. His hair is absurdly long and dark in color, only recently-dried-- a few wispy strands even have the beginnings of a wave, as though he'd started to put them in curlers.

"Step back," he practically growls, or attempts to-- he speaks in a way that attests to a calculated way to preserve his beauty, his accent light and easy, his expression itself careful not to form a wrinkle too many as he stares Ak'ka down, snowflakes flicking away from his half-painted nails. A smile quickly replaces his frown as he turns to Einheria, his hand gentle as he takes one of hers, the artificial scent of flowers cloying in the air around him. "Are you quite unharmed, my fair lady?"

"A-Ah, yes, I am... quite alright," Einheria manages in her bafflement. "I am entirely unharmed... thank you, kind wizard, for coming to my rescue. I am ever in your debt."

He sweeps her up off the snowy ground, eyes fixed quite hopelessly on her, even as she sweeps into a gracious bow, one arm sure to rise into the air, frozen sparks flying from her fingertips. If he notices, he does not say as much, too swept up in his attempt at playing hero to care much for any oddity--

until the chorus of birdsong fills the air, low and twittering, heralding a reckoning. [1]

Einheria lifts her hand to her mouth in mock surprise as soon as a flock of snow finches descends upon the wizard, quick to peck and claw, quickly taking his focus away from her-- and from Ak'ka. Best of all, he hardly seems to realize that she's the cause of it-- he seems a bit caught up with preserving his image, with dodging the talons and tiny beaks of a dozen little finches.

It takes all she has not to smile.

---

[1] Snowbird Storm

I trust you.

That was a real weird thing for her to say with so much sincerity, like she genuinely believed Ak’ka wasn’t gonna hurt her or anything. They’d only known each other a couple’a hours, that kind of trust wasn’t earned that quickly. Why’d it make her feel all weird, then? She couldn’t respond, not when they were in the middle of the act, but something in her had solidified, something telling her that she couldn’t let Ein down. She would have to tamper her bloodlust, wait until the moment this damn wizard finally made his appearance. Speaking of, where the hell even was he? If the scumbag was really lurkin’ in these woods, then there was no way he hadn’t heard Ein’s screams in the silence. He’d better show up soon or Ak’ka was gonna-

Oh. There he was.

… Lookin’ like he’d just been interrupted in the middle of his nap.

Were those slippers?

Ak’ka’s posture slacked despite the fact this wizard guy was alternating between glaring her and giving Ein doe-eyes, so confused that she briefly forgot she was supposed to dispense with the brutal killing of this man. “Wait a minute, you’re telling me that this dandy guy’s the insane wizard that’s been terrorizing the Coldwoods?" Gods, this was disappointing! He wouldn’t even put up a good fight! And the idiot was so entranced by Ein’s beauty that he didn’t even notice the fake look of surprise the minute a handful of white birds descended from the air like a blizzard, pecking at his pretty face and leaving scratch marks in his wrinkled blouse and fuzzy bathrobe.

“Ack- what is-?” He didn’t even get to finish his sentence before Ak’ka joined in on the fun, hefting up the massive tree from over her shoulder and swinging it wide through the air.

“Merry Winter’s Crown, motherfucker!” She yelled, sending a volley of razor-sharp needles right at him with a gleeful laugh that reverberated through the air like a heartbeat.^[1] The pretty-boy wizard raised his arms to protect himself, but in his haste to protect himself from the sting of sharp needles, he forgot all about the actual threat right in front of him, four-hundred pounds of orc woman hurtling towards the little punk twig at inhuman speeds.

She threw her fist in the air, ready to turn his face into a pancake and make it run red with blood, but the wizard yelped and waved his hand, conjuring some kinda wall from the ice between him and her in a last-ditch effort to protect himself.^[2] Not enough - with the momentum she’d built up in anticipation of attacking the wizard Ak’ka smashed through the ice as easily as if it was paper, sending shards crashing everywhere and removing the wizard’s only defense.^[3]

But he’d been ready for that. The second Ak’ka broke down the barrier, the wizard had already formed an icicle in the palm of his hand, snowflakes swirling around him as the projectile pierced her right in the shoulder.^[4] Ak’ka staggered backwards, grunting in pain, but a grin lighting up her features.

“Why are you smiling, brute?” The wizard demanded, tone so haughty it made her want to punch him. But with her shoulder all fucked up, she couldn’t hit with her normal strength. She wrenched the icicle out of her shoulder, crushing it in her bare hand.

“Because you’re a dumb shit, that’s why.” She gloated. “Did you really think you could take on the Bonegrinder and the Dragon with your paltry tricks? You're just dead meat that's still mooing."

---

1. Tree
2. Glacial Wall (Wizard)
3. Bull's Strength
4. Ice Spike (Wizard)

It is incredibly difficult for Einheria to maintain her composure as she watches the little finches she'd called forth finish up their assault-- the sight they make is almost ludicrous, really. Those birds are so deceptively delicate, their snow-white feathers and tiny beaks hardly the image of bloodlust, and yet they tear at the wizard with delight, each strike as brutal as a handmade weapon, rending flesh and fabric as well as their physicality allows. As they take flight once more, taking to the skies with scarlet adorning their moon-pale feathers, she blows a kiss their way, a silent farewell offered to her little army of snow-spun birds.

Oh, it is a cruel thing to wish to laugh-- she knows she should not take any delight in the agony of others, knows that even if she is hunting this man for her father's sake, it is difficult not to wish to laugh at the ridiculous sight this man makes. He is dressed as though he had only just leapt out of bed, his bravado melting beneath his panic as he tries to recover from the surprise assault, and it is... impossible not to at least let a soft giggle slip from between her lips as he flounders, as Ak'ka sends a brutal rush of pines his way, as he is charged by a woman twice his size--

But her laughter dies in her throat the second she watches the wizard conjure an icicle and lodge it right in Ak'ka's shoulder.

That sets a very foreign coldness in her heart.

It is strange to see Ak'ka smile even as she staggers back in clear pain, to hear her voice radiate such confidence as she responds to the wizard's question-- she speaks as though she's barely been harmed, as though the shard of ice that had wedged itself in her shoulder was little more than a splinter. And yet, it's clear to see from the way she flinches when she rolls her shoulder back that his mark still stings, that the strength she normally has is diminished just so by this man's last line of defense, and so it is up to Einheria to answer his attack.

She had hoped this could be resolved mercifully.

Her mercy is starting to ebb away.

"How dare you speak to her that way?" Einheria says coldly, voice flat with frosty rage as she stares the wizard down-- though she is small and delicate, a snowflake in human form, in this moment she is a blizzard, relentless with rage for the sake of her first ever friend. "You have no right."

The hiss that lurks beneath the syllables she speaks is foreign and strange, cold as a glacier where the Frost Gale meets the Luna Sea-- her eyes burn with frigid fire, her expression eerily blank. Something about it must unnerve the wizard, too, for he flinches at her tone, at her face, at the way she moves to pick up her discarded lance, the solid line of steel second nature in her hands as she advances toward him, hardly reconcilable with the frantic maiden of moments ago.

"S-She attacked me!" he retorts, taking a step back, cold energy surging at his fingertips as he prepares a defense. "I was defending myself--!"

"We attacked you," she corrects quickly, still walking toward him at the same leisurely pace, her lance in hand. "You could at least do the courtesy of answering us both with equal violence."

He opens his mouth to respond, confusion warping his too-pretty face, but whatever words he had prepared warp into a shriek of panic as Einheria dives forward, the blade of her lance surging up in a sharp strike. He darts backwards, dodging the brunt of it, but the tip of the blade cleaves through fabric and skin, sending a thin rush of blood into the air as he scrambles back.

She allows him no time to recover-- she swings her lance once more, the blade aimed lower, striking at his legs-- then again, again, again, an endless dance of steel and blood as she advances, answering his strike against Ak'ka with as many as she can manage in turn. She does not aim to kill, but there is a graceful brutality in her motions all the same, her footwork as precise as a dance despite the agony it rains down.

The wizard seems tentative even now to harm her, but he sends flecks of hail her way, the ice striking her skin-- but she does not care. She hardly flinches, the pain easy to ignore beneath the heat of her anger, and he is already weak from Ak'ka's prior attacks, from pine needle and force, and so it only takes a few more clean strikes of her lance before he collapses back into the snow, wincing as she points the blade right against his pine-scraped chest.

"I would thank you to show both of your adversaries the same respect," she says flatly before glancing over her shoulder, a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips. "Would you like the decisive strike, Ak'ka?"

Ak’ka wasn’t one to let others close. Her whole life had been her against the rest of the world, ‘cus that was just what was natural. She had to deal with her own shit because she was the only one who could, and that was normal. It was fine. She wasn’t just Ak’ka the Bonegrinder. She was Ak’ka of Clan Mortak, the Pillar of the World’s Crown. The Unshakeable Mountain.

But those foundations felt pretty damn rattled as she watched Ein grow angry on her behalf, like she was the princess in need of saving from a big strong knight.

Ak’ka was fine.

It was just a scratch on her arm that would heal up, and it wasn’t like being called a brute was the worst thing in the world she’d ever been called. But Ein was acting like this was some big offense. There was a cold look in her eyes like she would bring down a damn avalanche in the woods if it meant Ak’ka wouldn’t be insulted again.

And Ak’ka, for some reason, believed her.

The little lady came in swinging with that polearm, moving around with that lance with the grace of a snowflake in a blizzard. Her battlesong rang in Ak’ka’s ears - a concerto of elegance from natural training undermined by a thrumming beat of raw power. If Ak’ka were any more versed in music she might’a called this death hymn a symphony of the piano and cello, light notes mixed with discordant anger.

But she didn’t know jack shit about music, aside from the kind that was made in a fight. So Ak’ka just thought it all looked pretty damn neat.

She had to admit that Ein was pretty good with that lance, better than Ak’ka thought she’d be. Apparently all that training was paying off. She didn’t give the wizard a chance to cast a spell in retaliation - he was already pretty damn beat up from Ak’ka’s attacks, and Ein’s surprise assault, but he had enough in him to send a wave of hail and ice at the two. Ein didn’t even seem to notice it was hitting her.

A wall of pure force.

And then Ein paused, offering Ak’ka the finishing blow. She wasn’t gonna look a gift horse in the mouth - not when it meant claiming this bounty and getting the hell out of here. This prettyboy wasn’t the man she was looking for, anyways. He was just practice.

That was all any of these enemies were.

Just practice.

“Don’t mind if I do.” Ak’ka replied, all teeth and fake-manners like they were talking about having the last snack at a party and not destroying a madman for money. It was painfully easy to lift her tree overhead, muscles bulging and straining slightly from the effort of hefting that kinda weight - but all she had to do was get it over her head and let gravity to the rest of the work. She split his skull like cracking a bell, the CRUNCH of bone signaling that the fight was over.

He slumped over, dead or unconscious - Ak’ka didn’t care. The bounty specified dead or alive, and as long as she got paid at the end of the day, then that was all that mattered.

Ak’ka’s chest heaved, the adrenaline of battle surging through her. She probably looked like a damn nightmare as she turned to face Ein, blood and viscera that was both hers and not-hers coating her face and chest. A pretty grim sight - hard not to picture her as the monster when she looked like this.

Didn’t bother Ak’ka none. It would be taken care of with a bath and some booze.

“… Ya didn’t have to keep sticking up for me.” Ak’ka grunted, churlish nature taking over in the absence of knowing what the right thing was to say to that. Ak’ka was the stronger one, the one with thicker skin. It was her job to protect Ein, not the other way around. And yet.

“I, uh… thanks.”

Yeah, that was what people were supposed to say when they expressed gratitude.

Having had enough of that touchy-feely shit for the day, Ak’ka bent down to hoist the guy up and sling him over her shoulder. They had money to collect, and a tavern to hit up, Flashing Ein a smile and extending a fist, as if waiting for Ein to return the gesture, Ak’ka said, “Now what do you say we finally get you a damn drink?”

Even as the wretched wizard fell silent beneath the decisive strike Ak’ka delivered, that strange feeling stirring in Einheria’s chest failed to fade.

She is quite familiar with the cold– it made her, shaped her, sculpted her from the cores of glaciers, from the gentle gleam of perpetual snow, thrives within her and beyond her as naturally as life. It is her lineage– her father and her father’s father and all others who came before her were defined by winter, made irremovable from it, their breath and bodies boreal as the snow-dusted mountains they made their home. She knows it. She lives it– breathes it, in and out, even if she can’t remember the right way to exhale it away.

This coldness is different, foreign, nesting in her heart like a maggot in rot– it does not shake as the crunch of bone resonates through the air, as Ak’ka catches her breath, as Einheria lowers her lance and dismisses it, the shape of her weapon slipping away into particles of snow. It sings in her veins, in her bones and blood, and it does not falter– even as she studies the fallen form of the wizard for the sign of a breath, for the twitch of a limb, for a trace of life.

It is hard to tell.

She finds she does not care.

She should– Einheria knows she should. All life has value, has importance– it is the first thing all fables whisper of, the very core of fairy tales. And yet, she knows quite well that that value can be forfeited– that one can do enough harm to diminish it, until the narrative deems them better gone, whether dead or punished in ways they’ll never escape. She’s seen it with evil queens and foul dragons and all manner of monsters, their fates outlined in filigree, in harsh shadows that dwindle to the watercolors of the happy ending– she’s seen it a hundred times.

Is that why she feels so unbothered by this? Is that it?

Either way, her musings fade away at the sound of Ak’ka’s voice, this strange internal debate melting away into the backdrop as she turns to face her companion. She blinks for a moment as Ak’ka insists she had no need to stand up for her, long lashes fluttering against snow-pale cheeks, before she quietly half-scoffs, giving a tiny smile in answer.

“I did,” Einheria says decisively, in a way that demands no argument– a far cry from the wilting princess of earlier. “And I would do it again. He should have known best to keep your name out of his mouth and his defenses out of your skin.”

For a moment, there is silence– heavy with the foreignness of the feelings and experiences dawning over both women, and then…

“...you are quite welcome, Ak’ka,” she says, the corners of her lips perking in a little smile, something real.

Einheria watches as Ak’ka lifts the wilted wizard over her shoulder, carrying him effortlessly, easily in spite of his limp frame and her own state. She parts her lips in the beginnings of an offer to help, but– well… what could she offer that Ak’ka cannot? What strength could she lend? What all could she do to contribute now that the deed is done? She pauses as quickly as she begins, certain that it’s best to offer nothing.

But then Ak’ka extends her arm, hand curled in a fist, and Einheria falters again– she’s not entirely certain of what this means, what is being offered, but Ak’ka is smiling so it must be a good thing and oh she should have studied the significance of hand gestures more thoroughly before heading out into the world, she knows better, how foolish–!

And yet, she settles her hand over that fist and elects to shake Ak’ka’s hand, knowing it’s probably not right, not expected, but it will have to be for now.

“A drink sounds lovely, Ak’ka,” she says brightly. “Lead the way?”