The frozen battlefield slowly faded into the distance as Glacius and Peggy walked through the misty woods, the eerie silence broken only by the soft crunch of snow beneath their feet. The air was still cold, but not as biting as it had been moments ago — a reflection of Glacius' now-steady elemental power.
Peggy's golden wings, though damaged, still shimmered faintly with a soft glow as she kept pace beside him. Her hand occasionally brushed against her side where the bugs had wounded her, but she kept her expression neutral.
Glacius noticed.
"You're limping," he said bluntly, not bothering to look at her.
Peggy blinked. "Huh? No, I'm not."
"You are," he repeated, his voice colder now. "And it's slowing us down."
Peggy huffed. "Wow, thanks for your concern, Prince Ice-Block."
Glacius' eye twitched. "I told you not to call me that."
Her lips curled into a sly grin. "You never told me what to call you."
Silence.
Glacius' mind wandered back to Venox's words, the way the bug general had sneered about his so-called "worry" for Peggy. It annoyed him — not because it was true, of course — but because the accusation still echoed in his mind.
He didn't care about Peggy. She was annoying. Loud. Reckless.
And yet…
He had charged straight into battle for her.
Without thinking.
Glacius clenched his jaw.
"You should've run," he said suddenly.
Peggy blinked again, confused. "What?"
"Back there," Glacius muttered, still not looking at her. "When Venox attacked. You should've run instead of… whatever you thought you were doing."
Her smile faltered, but only for a second. "So saving your life was 'whatever'?"
"You weren't saving me." His voice was sharp now, like the edge of an icicle. "I didn't need help."
Peggy stopped walking.
Glacius took a few more steps before realizing she wasn't beside him anymore.
He turned, his hair falling softly over his icy blue eyes. "What now?"
Peggy crossed her arms, her golden armor catching the faint winter light. "You keep saying that, but if I hadn't done something, you'd be bug food right now."
He scoffed. "I would've frozen them eventually."
Her brow furrowed. "Oh really? With all that poison crawling through your veins?"
Glacius opened his mouth to retort but… stopped.
He had been losing control back there. The bugs' venom had slowed him down, clouded his thoughts. If Peggy hadn't slashed through the swarm —
No.
He wouldn't admit that.
"You're naive," he said instead. "You're younger than me and act like you know everything."
Peggy's eyes narrowed. "I'm twenty, not twelve. Stop acting like you're some wise old man."
Glacius' lips tightened into a thin line. "You said it for the second time now. You let emotions control your actions. That's reckless."
She stepped closer, defiant. "And you're so busy pretending you don't have emotions that you almost got yourself killed."
Their gazes locked — a silent battle of wills.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then —
"You're insufferable," Glacius muttered.
"And you're impossible," Peggy shot back.
Another pause.
Finally, Glacius sighed, breaking the stare. "We're wasting time. Let's go."
Peggy didn't move.
Instead, she did something Glacius didn't expect.
She reached out and lightly touched his arm.
It was brief, almost hesitant, but the warmth of her fingers against his cold skin made him freeze — literally.
"I know you don't want to admit it," Peggy said softly, her voice steady now. "But you cared back there. When Venox grabbed me."
His heart did a strange, uncomfortable flip.
"I didn't—"
"You did."
Glacius' mind raced, searching for a comeback — a cold remark to push her away — but nothing came.
Peggy stepped back, her touch gone — but the heat of it lingered.
"I'm not expecting you to say it," she added, turning away. "But maybe… stop pretending you don't feel anything at all."
And with that, she started walking again, leaving Glacius standing there, his usually composed expression riddled with conflict.
He stared at her back — the flicker of gold against the pale, frozen landscape.
His hand brushed the spot where she had touched him.
It was still warm.
Silently, Glacius followed her, his icy exterior cracking — ever so slightly.
Then suddenly, Peggy stopped and collapsed on ice.
The cold wind howled through the frozen forest, each gust stirring up a flurry of snowflakes that danced through the air like tiny, frozen spirits.
The landscape was as unforgiving as ever — bleak, silent, and merciless. Just the way Glacius liked it.
Or so he thought.
Because now, there was something — someone — disrupting that perfect, icy balance.
Peggy.
Her golden body, shimmering with the faintest glow, lay limp in the icy ground.
The once-vibrant fairy was now a silent, exhausted figure against his dark-blue form. Her wings, still flecked with bug silk and battle scars, drooped weakly behind her, their usual radiant brilliance dulled.
Glacius kept walking — or rather, he tried to.
At first, he told himself it didn't matter. She wasn't his responsibility. She was just a foolish fairy who had gotten herself involved in *his* fight — an annoying, reckless girl who didn't know when to back down.
He wasn't going to stop.
He wasn't.
And yet…
After a few more paces, his feet refused to move.
He scowled, staring down at the snow beneath his boots, ice forming in jagged patterns from his rising frustration. His grip on Peggy's body tightened for a moment — not in anger, but in… something else.
Something uncomfortable.
Something unfamiliar.
*Why did you help me?* he wanted to ask her. *Why didn't you run?*
But she was unconscious. Silent. And somehow, that annoyed him more.
Glacius let out a long, icy breath — the air frosting instantly — before finally, *finally* turning back.
He knelt beside her, his cold fingers brushing the strands of golden hair away from her face. Her skin was warm — too warm — against his frozen touch, and it made his heart twist in a way that had nothing to do with battle or pride.
He hated it.
He hated how fragile she looked.
He hated how… *different* it felt to see someone lying there for his sake.
And yet, he couldn't leave her there.
Not because he cared — of course not. It was because…
He needed her alive.
Yes, that was it.
The games weren't fun without her.
If she was no more, who else would ruin his perfect frozen landscapes? Who else would yell at him for being "Prince Ice-Block" or recklessly shield him from danger?
No one.
It was a game, and every game needed a counterbalance — a rival, an annoyance, a spark of chaos.
Without her, the game was just… lonely. Too lonely.
And so, without another word, Glacius scooped her up into his arms.
Her golden glow against his icy body was jarring somehow complementing one another. His dark-blue armor glistened with frost, the edges of his ice-demon markings glowing faintly, yet her light didn't fade. If anything, the contrast made both their elements stand out even more.
As he walked, his mind drifted to the history of his tribe — the Ice Demons.
They were never meant to be this way — not originally.