Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Adjust your stance! Parry!”

Grime lunged, blade swinging. The human raised her sword at the nick of time. A satisfying clang rang as steel crashed against steel. She pushed, Grime pulled. The two separated. Feet scrambled to find a footing; Grime easily, the human clumsily.

Grime glowered. “That wasn’t a parry.”

“Parry schmarry,” she spat. Her attempt to appear tough was undermined by the heavy breaths escaping her lips. “It didn’t cut me. That’s what matters.”

“Pragmatism has its place,” Grime admitted. Decades of experience guided his body to assume the correct stance. “So does proper form and technique.”

The human took her sweet time returning to a laughable stance. It took everything in him to not wince from secondhand embarrassment. At the very least, the human seemed willing to listen to him this time.

“Now. Parry.”

Grime lunged once more. The human greeted him with steel. Her feet deftly stepped aside, his blade sliding off of hers. A parry.

“Happy?!” she barked.

Grime grinned. “No.”

Grime launched into a flurry of three strikes. All three glanced off of Sasha’s blade. Grime didn’t relent; five strikes this time. One broke through, and sent her spiraling to her knees.

Grime stared down at her with something close to pity. He barely put in any strength behind that blow.

“Hold on,” she gasped between breaths. “Five minutes.”

Grime lowered his sword. For now. “Your stamina needs improvement.”

“We’ve been at this-” Sasha turned with a glare, but a series of coughs betrayed her intent, “-for two hours.”

“Your point?” Grime sneered.

Sasha was not amused as she struggled, panting, to rise to her full height. “Not all of us are born in hell.”

Grime chuckled. If that was meant to be an insult, she had failed miserably.

“Sure. Laugh it up.” Sasha wiped the sweat from her brow, fixing up bits of her hair that’s stuck to her forehead. “When it’s time to wrangle this circus sideshow you call an army, you’re still my bitch.”

Grime frowned. His eyes sharp as daggers and filled with venom. And he leapt, sword drawn. When the human caught him from the corner of her eye, and hastily raised her sword to block his strike, he was almost disappointed.

“He- hey! Time out!”

Grime pushed. Sasha was no match for his brute strength. She stumbled back, but caught herself before she could fall. The look of panic on her face was a delightful sight.

“Your opponent will not give you five minutes.”

Grime advanced. He swung down from above hard. Sasha swerved, barely surviving by inches.

“Your opponent will not give you a time out.”

A reversal. A sweeping slice from below. Sasha made the mistake of meeting it with her sword. It was a miracle the sword didn’t fly out of her hand.

“Your opponent will show you no mercy!”

A thrusting strike. She stepped back, not far enough. The tip nicked the padding on her stomach.

“So you must!”

A wide swing. A ringing clang.

“Not!”

A rapid backhand. A lock of blonde hair scattering to the wind.

“Show!”

An advancing strike. A pathetic excuse of a block.

“Yours!”

A two-handed downward strike sent the human staggering backwards. A fall was inevitable, so Grime expedited the process. He lashed his tongue out and caught one of her legs. Her feet pulled out from under him, she fell on her back hard. And remained still for a good few seconds.

Grime exhaled. He got… overzealous. More than he thought he’d be. But it was necessary. She needed the lesson. Respect isn’t a static measure. It is hard to gain, and easy to lose. Better for her to learn now rather than later.

Sasha stabbed her sword to the dirt and used it to help pull herself up to a sitting position. And stayed there. Unmoving. Simply panting, heaving, her head hanging low. Grime’s patience quickly ran dry.

“Up,” he growled.

Without even looking up, Sasha hissed, “Time out.”

Still disrespecting him. Grime would have shaken his head. Instead, he lifted his blade. If her head had to roll, so be it.

Grime swung down. Sasha suddenly jerked back, teeth bared and brows set in a deep scowl, her eyes locked with his, and-

Her eyes flashed purple.

“I said, time out!”

Grime froze.  

His hand, holding the sword aloft, fell to his side. He stepped back, and stopped himself from taking another. The image, the flash, was burned forever onto his mind, even when her eyes had long returned to their natural color.

“Ten minutes. Not a second more.”

For a moment, Sasha’s eyes widened in surprise, before a glint of satisfaction replaced it. With spiteful effort, she pulled herself up to her feet, using the sword as partial support. She scoffed in his face, turned on her heels and walked away, leaving her sword still embedded in the dirt.

Grime stared at her retreating form for longer than he’d like to admit. He cursed, quietly, once he snapped himself out of the trance. To be shocked to the point of freezing over something so simple. What a shameful display. So a human could change their eye color. One more thing to remember about the strange species.

Grime surreptitiously casted a glance around the courtyard. A few heads had turned, but they were smart enough to quickly look away. Weapons were swung, supplies carted into storage; the flow of activities returned to its regular state. He sheathed his sword, stepped forward to Sasha’s discarded sword, and wrapped his hand around its hilt.

Pain. Sudden, intense, overwhelming; enveloping his right hand. He pulled away, biting his tongue to keep himself from screaming. His eyes fell, tunnel vision settling, upon the sword’s hilt.

It was cold. Freezing cold. Enough to burn his hand. To turn it into a hideous shade of blackened blue.

Grime shifted his attention ahead. Sasha was nowhere in sight. She had already disappeared into the tower. He clutched his injured hand closer to his chest, and gritted his teeth. The silver tongue, the athletic prowess, and now this. Even after all this time, the human still had secrets hidden in her sleeves.

Humans are dangerous.

Chapter Text

Percy gulped. The stable door was within sight. The sun had just passed its peak. He’d put off doing this for what felt like hours. He couldn’t put it off any longer. Not if he didn’t want to disappoint the captain.

He marched right up to the stable door, his boots making wet, heavy slaps against the mud. He sucked in one last big breath, before pulling the door wide open.

Commander Sasha was inside. Leaning against a bale of hay, with her arms crossed, being all calm and cool like she always did. Exactly where Captain Grime said she would be.

Percy shot a glance at her hip. She didn’t have a sword with her.

The door swinging open caught Sasha’s attention, and when she turned to look, Percy was greeted with a wide smile, so natural and easy coming from her. “Oh, hey! ‘Sup Percy?”

Percy tried going for a casual smile, just like one he’d show the commander on any regular day - Captain Grime said the commander couldn’t know that anything was amiss. He’d like to think he did an okay job at it. “Oh, uh, yeah, n-not much,” he said, casually.

The commander raised an eyebrow and cocked her head. Percy made a small noise. Gotta say something casual, quick. “W-what are you doing here?”

The commander stared for a moment, before shrugging. “Grimesy said he wanted to meet me here.” She nodded at him. “You?”

“Oh. You know. Just looking for a.. a… thing,” Percy casually replied, with a casual shrug, and a casual smile.

“Right,” the commander said, slowly.

Percy was confident the commander suspected nothing was afoot.

With a start, Percy realized he’d been standing at the doorway for far too long. He cleared his throat, and marched inside, past the commander. His destination was deeper in the stable, out of the commander’s view. That made things a little bit easier.

“Hey, you heading in the tower after this?” Percy heard her call out.

“Uh- yes! Yep, going to the tower,” he called back, after a moment. His head didn’t register it at first. His destination took up most of what little attention he could muster.

Inside one of the stable stalls, partially shrouded in shadow, Percy spotted a dark shape slowly rising and falling. A shiver passed through his body. He wasn’t there to see the creature being brought in, but he’d heard about it from the others. A freshly-caught hairy tarantula. These beasts are dangerous at the best of times, but this one’s especially violent, volatile, unpredictable. She’s barely tamed, and she’s trying hard to keep it that way. Capturing her almost costed the tower a soldier, or so he heard. A wooden gate locked with a steel latch was now the only thing keeping the beast from mauling him. From mauling the commander.

Percy couldn’t even begin to imagine why the captain would give him this order, but his words were crystal clear. Orders are orders.

“If you run into Grime, tell him to haul his ass over here, double time. Been waiting here for twenty minutes.”

Percy didn’t answer. He was busy dragging a sack filled with feed from the corner, ripping it open, and dumping the feed right in front of the stall gate. Inside, the beast began to stir.

“Percy?”

Percy jumped. He hadn’t been paying full attention to anything the commander was saying. He had to respond, fast. Couldn’t risk her getting suspicious and investigating what he was up to.

“Um-! Yes, commander!” he exclaimed. A bit of a stock answer, but he hoped it was enough.

“Hey, I told you, no need to use that ‘commander’ crap. Just Sasha’s fine.”

Gulping, Percy took a step closer towards the gate. His eyes were on the latch keeping the gate locked. He raised his hand, hovering ever closer towards it.

“Right! Right.”

The words left his lips hand in hand with a forced chuckle. The cold, rusted metal of the latch burned the moment it touched his skin. Percy closed his eyes, and for a moment, spoke the truth.

“Sorry, Sasha.”

The latch slid open with a quiet click. Four of the tarantula’s eyes blink open.

It took everything within Percy to not sprint his way out the stables. Instead, he kept himself to a rapid, yet steady pace. Even gave Sasha a weak, mumbling excuse of not finding what he was looking for in here. He stepped out of the stables, and swung the door closed with a loud thud before he could have second thoughts. He slid his sword out of its sheath and jammed it between the two door handles, barring the door from the outside.

There. He followed Captain Grime’s orders. To the letter.

Percy stepped back. The realization of what he did abruptly dawned on him.

“Excellent work, Percy.”

He spun around, shrieking. The captain was there, smiling at him.

Percy blinked. Paused. Captain Grime was smiling at him.

“Despite your doubts, you followed your orders like a true soldier.” The captain placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Percy had to make sure to keep breathing. “A true soldier deserves my respect.”

Percy wanted to squeal. He wanted to shed tears of joy. He wanted to rush the captain and squeeze him in the biggest, tightest hug in history. A month ago, he would have, but not now. He knew better. He knew the procedure. He stood up even straighter, feet together and shoulders raised, and gave the captain a salute. The captain nodded, once, satisfied.

The snap and splintering of wood broke the solemn silence, coming from inside the stable.

“Wh- what the hell?!”

Percy grimaced. Sasha’s voice was unmistakable, muffled as it was coming from the other side of the door. A series of crashes and clangs followed, of rapid, panicked footsteps against hay and dirt. Then, the door began to shake, and frantic bangs against it came from the other side.

“What the-?! Hey! Open the goddamn door!”

The terrible shriek of a beast pierced the air. Percy flinched. There was no mistaking what was happening behind that door. He felt sick. He thought praise from the captain would make it go away, would make it easier, but he still felt like he was about to spill out his breakfast all over the floor.

Percy chanced a glance at the captain. His smile stretched wider than before; a terrible maw of sharpened fangs.

The captain set his eyes on the roof of the stable, and leapt. The roof cracked as the captain landed on it, but somehow didn’t break, much to Percy’s surprise. The captain knelt beside something out of Percy’s sight, and it took him a moment to realize the captain was watching whatever was going on inside through a hatch on the roof.

Percy bit his lip. The knot in his stomach was impossible to ignore. He had to see what’s going on in there. Captain’s orders or not, in the end, he was the one who fired the arrow, who forced Sasha into this terrible situation. Simply walking away didn’t feel right. He had to force himself to watch, whether he liked it or not. And technically, the captain hadn’t dismissed him yet, so he wasn’t free to leave anyway.    

He found a ladder leading up to the roof and climbed it as quietly as he could. He braced himself for an angry bark from the captain when he reached the top, but he heard nothing. The captain seemed completely absorbed with whatever terrible thing was happening inside. Percy approached, a low whine leaving him from the back of his throat, inch by inch, step by step, and not once the captain looked up. Not even as Percy knelt beside him and peered through the half-open hatch.

Percy’s eyes went round as saucers. The beast had indeed broken free of its stall, and she was out for blood. Poor Sasha had gotten her hands on a rake, doing the best she could to fend off the tarantula. A thrust and a swipe forced the beast to back away for a moment. The beast retaliated with a short lunge, her hiss ringing, regaining what little ground she lost, and slowly but surely cornering Sasha against the door. Sasha gripped the rake tight with both hands and charged forward. At the last second, she stabbed the rake to the floor, using it to vault over the tarantula, landing perfectly into a roll. Looking back over her shoulder, Sasha glared, her lips set in a smirk.

Percy bit his lip. Sasha’s all grins and glares, but even he could see the panic growing behind the mocking smirk she wore. She couldn’t keep this up forever, and she knew it.

A low growl came from Percy’s left. He looked up and saw the captain’s brow set into a frown. For some reason, he didn’t look happy, not in the slightest. He looked… expectant.

A shriek tore Percy’s attention back to the stable. The rake in Sasha’s hands had been snapped in half, the other half lying broken and useless underneath the tarantula. She feinted left only to dash right, but the beast was faster, cutting off her escape. She tried the opposite direction, and met the same result. Worse, as she tried to back away, she stumbled.

The beast lunged. Sasha was knocked to the ground, the beast immediately on top of her, pinning her. She thrashed about, punching and kicking and screaming, but the beast barely flinched. The beast bared its fangs, slick and glistening. Sasha screamed, reared back an arm-

Her eyes flashed purple.

Percy gaped.

Sasha’s palm struck the beast’s head.

Both of them disappeared from view; blasted off in opposite directions by some intangible force.

The force - a visible ripple in the air - spread outward in a blink of an eye. The force passed by Percy, blowing the hatch wide open and knocking him on his back. He caught himself, barely, nearly falling off of the roof. The force - he recognized it. He felt something like it before.   

It was wind. Strong, overwhelming, and freezing cold.

And it was created by Sasha?

The roof creaked beside him. The captain had stood up. He was smiling.

The captain leapt from the roof and landed in front of the stable door. Percy stared for a moment, expression blank, but he quickly shook himself out of it and scrambled for the ladder. He had to see this through to the end.

He rounded the corner just as the captain threw the door open. He marched inside, eyes set ahead, taking long strides without fear, while Percy followed after him, meek and slow, his eyes darting all around the interior. The blast had left the stable in chaos. Tools that were once tidily tucked away were strewn about on the floor. Several stall gates had been blasted open, some barely hanging from its hinges. But, neither caught Percy’s attention. What did were the small flecks of ice, covering sections of the floor, the pillars, even the ceiling.

Percy spent but a few seconds mesmerized by the ice when a deep, rumbling chuckle reminded him of more pressing matters. He turned towards the captain, followed his gaze, and bit back a yelp. The tarantula was splayed open on the farthest wall, dead, impaled against a multitude of rusted tools and weapons. Blue blood coated the brown-red steel jutting out of its still-twitching body, slowly dripping onto the floor. Percy couldn’t hold back a shudder. To have such old, blunted metal pierce through the thick hide of a tarantula, the force required would be monumental.

“C-Captain,” Percy began with a gulp, dread welling up inside his chest, glancing at the captain’s direction, “w-what is happening here?”

For a moment, the captain didn’t answer. He casted an eye over his shoulder, the smile on his lips stretching too wide, before turning in place. “The start of something terrible.”

Percy turned in place as well, and gasped.

Sasha lie slumped against the opposite wall, her eyes shut, her body motionless. A trail of red cascaded down her hair, between her eyes, and past her left cheek. A small pool was beginning to form under her.

Percy rushed to her side. He had no idea what’s happening, why the captain gave him this order, or how Sasha made that crazy burst of wind, but one thing he did know was that Sasha was injured, and orders or not, he was the one responsible for it.

“She- she needs to go to the infirmary!” Percy shuffled closer, readying himself to lift Sasha as gently as possible.

“Indeed.” A rough hand landed on his shoulder and abruptly shoved him to the side. Looking up, he saw the captain looming over Sasha. “I’ll bring her there myself.”

Captain Grime knelt down, and Percy cringed, bracing for the worst. Knowing the captain, he wouldn’t be surprised if he picked Sasha up by the collar and dragged her all the way to the infirmary that way. However, Percy could only stare in silence, because Captain Grime carefully placed a hand under Sasha’s neck to support her head, used his other arm to support her body, and slowly rose to his feet, not rushing, not making any sudden movements that might upset the wound. Percy had never seen the captain handle anything with that kind of gentleness before.

Percy continued to stare as the captain began to walk away. As the captain suddenly stopped at the doorway.

“Percy?”

Percy jumped, and scrambled to his feet. “Y-yes, captain?”

“Do not speak of this to anyone.” The captain glanced over his shoulder. A single glaring eye pierced Percy’s very soul. “If word gets out, your head will be the first to roll.”

Percy paled. He nodded, rapidly.

In the captain’s arms, he could hear Sasha stirring.

“G-Grime…? Wh-what- what’s-?”

“Rest your eyes, commander. You performed excellently today.”

Sasha groaned, barely audible, her eyes fluttering to a close again. The captain walked further into the distance until they disappeared from sight. Percy was left alone in the ruined stables.

Percy blinked. That was a bizarre ten minutes.

His eyes wandered, eventually landing on the slowly-melting ice covering one side of a wooden beam. Something about it bothered him, just from what he caught at a glance. He approached it, peered closer into it. What he saw was white and, somehow, the hint of a completely different color.

Purple.

Chapter Text

Bog was no stranger to questionable missions. He and his unit have been deployed in them more times than he’d care to count. Burn down entire hives, squash frogs that forgot their place, eliminate Newtopian nobles that thought they knew better; you name it. The things he had done under Captain Grime’s command would turn a lesser toad’s stomach. And he’d do them all again, a thousand times over, if the captain decreed it. His obedience to the cause was absolute.

This mission, however, was the first to give him pause.

The blood moon was high. The night was late, and most of the troops had already gone to rest in the barracks. But not Bog’s unit. He, along with Fens and Mire, marched down the torchlit halls of the Tower without a hint of hesitance in their step. Rounding a corner, they were quick to spot the familiar visage of Captain Grime. He stood by a set of wooden double doors, waiting, his eyes narrowing in satisfaction upon noticing them.  

“Right on schedule,” he said as Bog’s unit came closer, careful to keep his voice low. “Your unit is truly the best among us, Bog.”

“Heh. We try, Captain.” Bog grinned. Beside him, Fens chuckled, and Mire let out a grunt.

But Bog’s grin faded, as his eyes drifted towards the double wooden door, his mind towards the person slumbering beyond.

“Captain, if I may,” Bog started, “I fail to see how this would benefit us. The Commander is adored by the troops and has been-”

“You may not.”

Bog blinked. The captain’s visage darkened.

“If you are asking for permission to express disobedience, Bog,” the captain stepped closer, his words shaper than a polished blade, “then you may not.”

Both Fens and Mire squirmed under the captain’s glare like newborn tadpoles. Bog did his damn best to stand still, if only to preserve his unit’s pride.

“You do not question, soldier,” the captain snarled, only inches away from his face. “You follow. You destroy. You kill.”

Bog averted his eyes, backing away. It was foolish of him to speak out of turn. His obedience to the cause must be absolute. “Apologies, Captain.”

Captain Grime leaned away, his normal scowl returning. “You know your mission,” he decreed. “Make me proud, soldier.”

Bog shared a look with his unit, and nodded. At least now he could add a human to his kill count.

The double doors swung open without as much as a whisper. The room inside would be pitch black if not for the window left ajar across from the door. The moon outside bathed the room in a dim red glow. From where he stood, Bog could already see, on the bed in the middle of the room, the crimson outline of a human’s prone, vulnerable, sleeping form.

Bog was the first to enter; Fens and Mire following closely behind. Their steps were practiced, calculated, making as little noise as toadly possible. The sleeping commander showed no signs of stirring. So far, so good. Without a word, Bog gave the signal to his unit on where to move; Fens to the right side of the bed, Mire to the left.

They did so without question, and without fail. Bog approached as well, placing himself at the foot of the bed. Commander Sasha continued to sleep undisturbed. Not for long.

Bog shared one last glance with his unit - a conversation without words. They each knew their role well.

He reared back. And leapt.

Bog landed atop the commander’s sleeping form. The impact woke her, obviously, but those precious few moments where she was too stunned for coherent thought, blearily scrambling for a grip on the waking world, was all the time they needed. Fens and Mire dove in from the sides, grabbing each of her arms, preventing her from flailing about. More thought, more coherence, returned to her as her eyes fluttered open. She realized now something was holding her down. She tried to buck, kick, do anything, to no avail, her body and legs trapped underneath Bog. Her eyes finally came into focus, realizing far too late what’s happening and who her assailants were. She opened her mouth, to scream no doubt. A dirty rag shoved down her throat put a stop to that, and Bog’s hand over her mouth made sure it stayed that way.

“Nothing personal, Commander.” Bog reached to his belt, sliding a dagger out from its sheath. “Captain’s orders.”

Bog raised the dagger above his head. The blade gleamed red in the moonlight. His intent was clear as crystal. The commander’s eyes bulged out of their sockets, pupils darting from corner to corner, brows stitched to a glare. Bog had seen that look dozens and dozens of times before - the look of someone meeting their end. Whether it was a frog, toad, or human, they look the same. Flashes of shock, denial, fear, desperation, anger, and-

Purple.

Bog choked on air. His grip on the dagger slipped.

What followed was chaos.

A blast of wind. Fens and Mire were thrown, crashing against the wall on opposite sides of the room. The temperature dropped. The air became abnormally freezing cold. Sasha’s hands were free. Her open palms were aimed directly against Bog’s chest. Her glare was one of cold, deadly fury.

Freezing wind struck Bog’s abdomen, sending him flying, crashing against the ceiling, before gravity brought him plummeting to the floor. He grunted, struggling to rise. He clutched his chest by instinct, and immediately pulled his hand away, feeling the numbing cold. He looked down to his chest, and saw ice, crystalline and purplish-white, spreading across his armor.

Fear gripped Bog’s heart, in a way it seldom did. What sorcery is this? Is this what humans are truly capable of?

Bog’s gaze drifted up. Commander Sasha had stood up on her bed, her eyes still glowing a brilliant purple. She’s looking down at her hands, at the purplish-white mist drifting off from her open palms. In the dim red glow, despite what happened, Bog could still clearly see her face. She looked… shocked. Bewildered. Just as much as he was.

Groans, and the clunking of metal, came from Fens and Mire as they struggled to their feet. The commander heard. Her eyes regained that dangerous edge.

She aimed a palm at each of them. Freezing winds burst forth. Neither Fens nor Mire stood a chance. They had barely gotten their bearings when the wind struck them, pinning them against the wall. Purplish-white sheets of ice slowly began to form, enveloping their legs, their arms, their bodies, but sparing their heads. Sasha closed her palms, and the winds ceased. Fens and Mire were left frozen in place, in every sense of the word.

Sasha breathed. Spat out the dirty rag in her mouth. Locked eyes with Bog, still kneeling on the floor.

Bog cursed. Only a tadpole would sit there, staring slack-jawed, like an idiot.

He rushed forward, dagger in hand. But it was already too late.

Sasha opened her hands. Bog was no match for the force of the wind. It slammed him against the wall, trapping him there as frozen crystals covered his chest, his arms and legs. The cold quickly sapped away all of his strength. Any attempt to resist, to break free, was futile. He let his head hang low. Within seconds, he, along with the rest of his unit, had been defeated, left completely under the commander’s mercy.

Sasha climbed off of the bed. The deep purple glow of her eyes against the blood red light of the moon was a sight Bog wouldn’t soon forget.

Those eyes came within inches of his own, piercing and powerful. “Captain’s orders?”

Clapping. Her words were answered by the sound of clapping.

Heads turned. The double doors had been thrown open, and Captain Grime stood in the threshold, lips quirked into an amused smirk, slowly clapping his hands.

“Indeed,” he said. “I was the one who ordered this operation.”

Sasha bared her teeth. The purplish-white mist snaking from her palms thickened. “Then give me one good reason why I shouldn’t end your backstabbing ass right now.”

“It would be amusing to see you try.” The captain grinned. Rows upon rows of sharpened teeth looked even more fearsome in the red moonlight.

Try as she might to hide it, it was enough to make Sasha flinch. “So you’re here to finish the job?” she hissed.

“The job is already finished.”

Bog raised his head. What?

Sasha took one glance around the room, at the three toads frozen and pinned against the wall, and scoffed. “You gone blind?”

“You think slaying you is the objective of the mission?” Captain Grime gestured towards Sasha’s hands. “No. I have forced you to pull your last card out of your sleeve.”

Sasha looked down at her hands. Bog did the same. The mist trailing from them grew thinner by the second, until eventually, it all evaporated. The purple glow disappeared from her eyes, and with it, the bewildered confusion.

“Now, you have no more secrets.”

Sasha fixed the captain with a sour look, crossing her arms. “Congrats.”

“You certainly didn’t make it easy. You guard this secret extremely well,” Captain Grime said. “At times, I’m convinced even you didn’t know you possess this power.”

“I’m amazing like that.” Sasha’s expression didn’t change.

Bog opened his mouth to speak, but the frost stole the breath from his lungs.

“Yes. Even when it would benefit you to use this power, such as when we captured you, or when you were imprisoned, you still hide it.” The captain’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Yeah, well, you pulled this, instead of asking me about it like any sane person would.” Sasha averted her eyes for a split second, almost unnoticeable. “I’d say I’m in the right hiding it as long as I did.”

“If I had asked, would you have divulged the answer willingly?”

“Hell no.”

Captain Grime chortled.

“Then you understand why I resorted to this.”

Sasha’s eye twitched. “Cool. Then you understand why I’m bailing. Out of the way.”

Bog managed a weak grunt. The troops wouldn’t like that one bit. Loyal they might be to the captain, the commander’s influence over them was undeniable.

“And miss out on your rewards?”

Sasha blinked. A twinkle of intrigue appeared in her eyes.

“Perhaps reward isn’t the correct word. Compensation.” The captain nodded. “I am prepared to compensate you for the… inconvenience.”

Sasha narrowed her eyes, sharp with suspicion, but slowly, a realization dawned. “You’re… being serious.”

“With your silver tongue and your winter sorcery, you are a formidable and valuable ally. One worth any price.” The captain raised a closed fist, grinning. “I need you by my side, Sasha, as the commander of this army.”

Sasha rolled her eyes, but the contemplation in them seemed real enough. “Depends on what this compensation is,” she said.

“It can be whatever you want,” the captain replied, without missing a beat.

An almost-laugh left Sasha’s lips. A smile of greed quickly crept across her face. She glanced around her room, now an ice-covered mess. “Let’s start with a new room.”

Her gaze drifted down towards her fingers. A twinkle of confusion, worry, and even fear passed across her visage, seemingly unnoticed by Captain Grime. He did perk up when Sasha blew a long sigh.

“And some goddamn fresh air.”

Sasha moved to leave the room, slowly, shoulders low as if suddenly weighed down by a heavy burden. Captain Grime did not move from where he stood.

“What? I’m not bailing. Promise.”

“The toads?” the captain gestured around the room.

The commander spared a spiteful, disdainful glance back, before fixing the captain with a glare. For a brief second, those eyes flashed purple.

“Get your bitches out yourself.”

Sasha all but shoved Captain Grime aside, and left the room. The sound of her bare footsteps echoed in the silent night, growing more and more distant by the moment. Despite the flagrant display of disrespect, the captain seemed pleased with himself. Enough to crack a smile. A genuine smile.

Bog was not prepared for tonight at all.

They were released eventually. The captain dragged a few toads out of their beds to hack away at the ice until Bog and his unit was free, shaken and shivering but alive. The captain gave no explanation to the toads for why Bog’s team came to be encased in ice, and in the commander’s quarters no less, and a stern look from him was enough warning for Bog and his unit to do the same.

The toads were promptly dismissed once their duty was fulfilled. All who remained in the room was Bog and his unit, and Captain Grime.

The captain patted Bog’s shoulder, and he nearly jumped from it. “You did well tonight, soldier. Excellent work,” he said, as he made his way to the door.

“Captain,” Bog forced himself to his feet. He needed to know, “what the hell is going on?”

The captain didn’t stop. Didn’t bother himself with turning around.

“Soldiers do not question.”