Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The day of their execution actually turns out to be a very good day, except for when it isn’t.

The Omega Dimension is located on a fucking ice planet. Icy cannot fucking believe her eyes.

“You - you’re fucking name is - Icy, your name is Icy - “

“Maybe they didn’t know.” Darcy offers weakly, ignoring Stormy, who has hit the ground and is laughing so hard tears are streaming down her cheeks.

“I am concerned by how likely I think that is.” Icy says faintly.

The ice at their feet is hungry, but it quells at her presence and does not try to consume them. And even if it didn’t obey her whims, the actual fucking Dragon Fire is enough to keep the chill from their skin and the cold from their breath. They are doubly prepared for this.

“When you said it was gonna be a vacation - “ Stormy wheezes, and laughs again. Icy’s legs finally give out beneath her and she drops right on top of her sister.

Like, sure, they’d all put a brave face on but -

But -

“I, for one, am delighted that we’re always over-prepared.” Darcy announces.

Icy can’t really argue with that.

They’re underground, the portal having closed up on their heels. Like Domino, they are surrounded by ice. Unlike Domino, this is not a frozen city, but instead a frozen cave system. There are jagged spears of ice dripping down and protruding out from the floor and ceiling alike, blue in every shade coloring tunnels and passages and crevices.

And, like Domino, there are bodies.

These bodies, though, are alive - frozen eternally by the hungry ice, eyes moving and tracking as Icy pushes herself back to her feet and helps Stormy up.

“They’re trophies.” Icy realizes. She’s not very impressed. Like - trophies as a concept are something she approves of, this is just…pathetic. Why leave enemies alive?

“We might find allies here.” Darcy ventures. It would take only a moment for Icy to will the ice to let its prisoners go, after all.

“Not right-the-fuck-now we won’t. But - it’s something to keep in mind.” Stormy allows. She doesn’t seem as excited about a prison-break as Icy would’ve expected her to be. More cautious. That is not a complaint.

Icy dusts her hands off and stomps her feet for lack of anything better to do, and looks down at the ice trembling beneath her.

“There’s a back-door here somewhere, hmm?” She asks, and the ice - ripples. Outward. In concentrated ringlets.

“Convenient.” Darcy says. Icy can’t bring herself to disagree.

Domino had been - one thing. But this ice, this cursed ice, is eager and willing and easy to touch. It had not been formed of something so vile as the death of a planet, and Icy did not carry the blood of the women responsible in her veins.

For cursed ice to be an affinity, that necessarily means it’s something naturally occurring. Maybe the Omega Dimension was chosen as this trophy prison because it naturally produced the cursed ice.

It’s a thought, not an important one. Icy files it away anyway.

They keep together as they follow the ice’s path, twisting and winding deeper and deeper into the heart of  Omega.

It should be freezing, cold enough for even Icy to feel it, but the Dragon Flame is warm.

Icy’s never been pleasantly warm before. This is - probably that, she thinks, and it’s…she’s awed by that, more than she would like to admit. Her biology isn’t so different from - well -

Her thoughts stutter to a halt. Again.

She’s been - putting it off. The - the mess from Domino. But this -

The eyes are moving, she reminds herself. She hadn’t brought it up while in a monitored prison cell, she isn’t going to bring it up while in a literal prison filled with half-frozen strangers. Who knows if the Company visit their trophies, if their trophies talk.

“Babe.”

Stormy’s hand is warm when she reaches out and laces their fingers together, and Icy realizes, to her horror, that her face is wet.

“I’ll tell you when we get somewhere private.” She says hoarsely, promises, and her sisters both just - nod. And keep moving.

“I can’t reach your minds right now. The - Flame, I think. It differentiates between us.”

“Wonder if it doesn’t recognize Coven bonds, or if it just doesn’t recognize the whole of our coven.” Stormy muses softly, face pinched. They’ve been three as one so long that it’s - discomforting, the thought that the Dragon Flame itself does not recognize that.

“Is it one Coven bond or two though?” Darcy points out. Icy feels herself scowling an instant before Stormy looks horrified.

Multiple Coven bonds are not a thing. Icy had been assuming they’d just begun the process - hopefully never to be formalized - of expanding their own circle. But -

“That makes much more sense. I hate it. No more talking, let’s go.”

It speaks volumes for their bond, that the ice beneath their feet ripples and pushes at Stormy’s words, insistent and excited, and Icy lets her mind blank for the next fifteen or so minutes as she jogs with her sisters through twisting passages of ice and frost, as they resolutely ignore the lingering eyes and dark blobs denoting their unlucky fellow prisoners.

They take sharp turns and at one point slide right down a tunnel steep enough that Icy’s nails break the skin of Darcy’s arm. Icy has to form platforms beneath them on the other end and use the ice to propel them up a nearly vertical incline shortly thereafter.

It’s not very stressful or taxing, which means Icy’s on extra-bullshit alert when they come up on the mouth of another tunnel and damn near fall right off a sheer cliff onto a giant motherfucking snake.

There are two. Pale things, white enough that her eyes have to strain to pick them out against the ice around them; their large, watery-blue eyes vaguely luminescent and entirely too unfocused. They are twisting and writhing in fierce motions around the first non-frozen structure Icy has seen since their arrival; a raised dais containing a stone arch, inscribed with white runes.

“Can you read that from here?” Stormy asks. Darcy stares at her.

“You know my glasses are for show, right?”

“I’m sorry, is your vision so bad it can’t see the giant runes carved into the giant arch on the giant pedestal?” Stormy snarks back. Icy inches her way between them before Darcy can go for Stormy’s eyes in retaliation.

“It’s an anchor.” Icy says, also in an attempt to head of some witch-on-witch violence.

“Not - technically, yes, but no, it’s mostly a gate.” Darcy’s quick to correct her, hands lifting to sketch in the air before her.

“Gate. Cool. That’s our way out then. How are we going to handle the snakes?”

“The snakes are bound to the gate. Guardians, sure, but - jailers, more like it. I don’t think they’d bother us if we wandered around, but if we get too close or try to use the gate, they’ll attack.” Darcy says.

“Bound as in…if we destroy them, we destroy the gate?”

“It’s the only smart thing these assholes have done in their entire lives.” Darcy says flatly. Icy sighs, and pinches the bridge of her nose. Figures the only intelligent member of the Company had been in charge here.

“So we just distract them.” Stormy says simply.

“With what?”

“One of the prisoners, dipshit. We can sneak by while they’re handling the snakes.”

“The Company’s evil, but that doesn’t mean everybody in here is on our side.”

“That’s offensive. We’re evil.”

“I wouldn’t put it past them to have spies in here. Or - people who would do anything to get back into their good graces.” Icy corrects herself.

“They’d still have to try to leave to get back to the Company. And stop doubting yourself. We’re more than capable of killing whatever poor fuck we unleash.” Darcy says sharply, already spinning on her heel and setting off back the way they came. Icy has to scramble to catch up with her, to keep the ice beneath their feet moving in time with them.

“Nobody’s gonna get pissy with us for murder, right?” Stormy asks.

“As long as we’re not killing kids or like, enacting a genocide, I suspect we’ll be fine.” Darcy says dryly.

“They’re about to start a dimension-wide rebellion, Stormy. It’s war. It’s been war since we figured out what was going on. And none of the pixies or the little knights are stupid enough to throw a tantrum over the realities of war.”

“Timmy’s going to be pissed if he doesn’t get to drop the first body.” Stormy points out.

“Timmy can get in fucking line, he wasn’t executed by those motherfuckers -“

“No, let him test the waters. Maybe they use death curses, who knows.” Icy says mildly. Darcy’s been leading them on a determined but incomprehensible path. She’s likely sensing something. With the Dragon Flame boosting her power, Icy can’t fathom what might’ve drawn her attention.

“Ohh, death curses. We should use those. They’re so much fun. I could cast them on Bloom’s parents! And her cute little baby witch cousin!”

“They are vastly underused.” Icy allows, and Stormy beams. It’d be a comfort to Bloom, Icy thinks, if there was a built in scorched-earth revenge consequence for the Company targeting her family. Icy had contemplated casting one on the three of them junior year, but - who was realistically capable of killing them?

“Shut the fuck up, we’re here. This one, Icy.” Darcy orders suddenly, and Icy finally turns her attention towards her sister. Darcy’s squinting at a -

Huh.

“He’s been here a hot fucking minute.” Stormy says, and she’s right. The ice around him is old, older than the stuff swirling beneath their feet, old enough that it has colored and tinted his whole body a frankly unflattering shade of blue.

He’s sneering, eyes open but glazed - not so much tracking as drifting.

“This is a terrible idea.” Icy says.

“Don’t you trust me?” Darcy asks. Before Icy can get into trouble for not answering that, Stormy waves a frantic hand in front of the prisoner’s face.

“Hey! Fucknut! We’re breaking out. You in?”

It takes an agonizingly long time for his eyes to move up and down. Icy’s so bored that she doesn’t even bother gesturing; the ice covering him drops like a splash of water, grumpier than that which Icy has been interacting with so far. It tunnels deeper beneath their feet, shying away from the air and light, so deeply that it fades from Icy’s awareness.

The man collapses onto one knee, gasping loud and obnoxious. Just for a moment, for an instant, and then he pushes himself up.

The smile he gives them is all teeth, grey eyes wild. Hair perfect, though, not so much as a strand out of place. Fucking wizards, vainer than a fairy.

“A breakout, you say?”

“Mm. Exclusive. One time membership pass. Going, going…” Darcy trails off, examining her nails disinterestedly. He eyes her appreciatively. Out of his line of sight, Stormy mimes gagging.

The smile becomes a little less feral, a little more charming. He straightens up, smooths a hand down his long overcoat. And then bows, eyes wicked.

“I am honored to accept.”

Chapter Text

                        This was her fuck-up, Darcy is totally willing to cop to that, and she does just before she steps past the screaming, writhing tangle of incapacitated snake and into a glowing white star of a portal.

Her magic had been pulling her towards the wizard. Had recognized his essence, his magic, as dormant and faint as it had been.

From where should have been her first question. She’d been too interested in getting the hell out of the literal hell dimension first, though, and that was her fuck up.

Of course she recognized his power.

The heat hits her like one of Musa’s weighted blankets, staggering in its intensity. The humidity that comes with it would have done the same, if not for the Dragon Fire scorching the moisture right out of the air around her. It’s a sweet gesture from a terrifyingly sentient power. She’d hug it if she could. She’ll hug Bloom when they get back to her instead.

There is an ocean around them, glimmering in gorgeous cerulean and sapphire shades, endless in all directions around her. She’s standing on a small island, or above-surface coral mound of some sort, the coral carved and shaped into a circular portal chamber at her feet, etched in runes she pegs as native to Andros.

A half-structure of some sort swells out of the ocean to her right, a wooden dock leading from the portal chamber to an arched doorway. The structure is ornate and flowing, beautifully painted and kept, and Darcy has about a nanosecond to admire it before the colors fade to a washed out grey-green.

As has the water. And the formerly bright blue of the sky.

There’s screaming, she realizes.

“ - before me!”

The fucking wizard, she thinks, and then turns, and goes cold.

Of course she recognized his power, she thinks, as tendrils of pure malice manifest around his outstretched arms, crackle across the ground beneath his feet.

It’s the same power that had slaughtered Domino.

“I am Valtor, son of the Ancestral Coven, greatest of all wizards, culler of worlds! I faced down the Great Dragon itself and came out victorious - you mere worms scrabbling about this puddle of a planet will learn to bow to your betters!”

The wizard is roaring, and the - holy shit those are royal guard - figures writhing at his feet are twisting and mutating the longer he goes on. Fairies. Mermaids too, Darcy realizes. Warped and twisted by his power into clawed, fanged servants. Their flesh is withering into grey, gaunt bones before her eyes.

“If we had one, sure. But you absolutely aren’t it, asshole!” The speaker is a fairy, teeth barred in a vicious snarl as she crouches in front of a terrified mermaid and an injured merman. She’s half-transformed, her long formal gown stretched and torn along the back where her wings have begun to sprout, her hair half-undone and kept out of her face only by virtue of a lopsided tiara.

Shit.

“How brave, princess, to offer yourself up as a trophy - “ Valtor sneers, and flicks a purple-black tendril of magic at the fairy.

Darcy shrieks in rage, because how fucking dare he steal her color scheme. She hears Stormy voice a similar complaint, probably about his misogynistic language, because what a motherfucker, and then a blast of searingly cold energy shoots over Darcy’s shoulder.

Whatever Valtor intended to finish saying, no one ever hears.

He hits the ground with a odd little thump. His head’s frozen. Like. Frozen frozen, not whatever half-frozen bullshit had been going on in the Omega dimension.

“…Icy, he’s still alive.” Stormy says slowly. Darcy has no idea how she knows that, but she turns a little to see Icy, eyes huge and wide, staring at the wizard.

“Icy why is he still alive.”

“Killing him would be rude! He killed Bloom’s planet, not mine!”

That’s the stupidest, gayest thing Darcy has ever heard come out of her mouth. The implication that Icy has a planet, or did at one point, is shoved onto the back-burner.

“And you think she’ll kill him?”

“Well, we owe her a thank you for the - you know!” Icy blusters, waving a hand dramatically at them.

Darcy’s eyes meet Stormy’s. She sees the same incredulousness she’s feeling reflected there.

“I can’t believe you’re the oldest.” She mutters, and turns her attention to the body.

With the Dragon Flame at her fingertips, binding the wizard - physically and magically - takes only a handful of heartbeats. Darcy takes a moment to fuck with the standard binding spells she knows, now that she has the limitless power of literal fucking god at her disposal. A proper witch wouldn’t be able to get out of it, let alone some motherfucking wizard.

She’s frankly appalled. The Ancestral Coven raised this motherfucker, and he still calls himself a wizard. As if she needed any other proof the Coven were failures. Darcy doesn’t think highly of Riven’s mother, no matter how much he loves her, but at least she’d raised a proper son.

When she’s done, she turns to see a trident at Stormy’s throat.

“Stormy, stop antagonizing the traumatized locals.”

There’s movement at her side. She looks to see Icy, also looking surprised by the Stormy situation.

“He blinded the pixie before you got him.” Stormy says flatly.

Ah.

“Sorry.” Icy says awkwardly.

“So - sorry!? You’re with him!” The injured merman snarls, one arm around the princess and other holding his trident even with Stormy’s jugular. His gills are weeping viscous black fluid over a patchwork of bloody cuts. Darcy doesn’t have a single fucking clue how he got them, given that Valtor attacked with magic.

The cuts might have predated Valtor’s arrival, but that’s also a situation Darcy is not interested in considering and is thus shoved onto the back-burner.

“Fucking excuse you. We are not. He was supposed to get his ass ate by the giant snakes!””

“Giant - you came from the Omega Dimension!”

“Yeah, did anybody ever clear using your bullshit hell dimension as a prison site with Andros? Or did they just, y’know, do it?” Darcy asks, honestly curious. Of course, no one answers her.

“Tritannus, they’re fine.”

That - that came from the princess.

“Fucking excuse me?” Icy hisses.

The pixie’s eyes are milky, her expression tense and taunt like she’s in pain. She’s still half-transformed, pink and green energy crackling around her temples and hands, where they are clutching the merman.

“You are three no-name students from one of the most revered schools in the dimension, and you were executed publicly and violently without trial, on secret charges, to the adamant protests of your supposed victims. You’re witches, not criminals.”

“I’m offended. Are you offended? I’m offended. I absolutely commit crimes. I commit so many crimes - “

“We weren’t aware anyone else had…picked up on the Company’s bullshit.” Darcy says, shoving her hip into Icy, who growls but obediently starts hauling Stormy back.

The merman lowers his trident. No one says anything.

Darcy pinches the bridge of her nose, and then stalks forward. The princess tilts her head, clearly tracking her approach by sound, but doesn’t so much as flinch even when the merman does when Darcy stops right in front of them.

She casts a flurry of diagnostic spells, every one she knows, and is thoroughly pissed off at the result.

“Good news, your eyesight can be restored.”

“Bad news?”

“Bad news, none of us can heal. And we know someone who can fix this with some bullshit hack job, because that motherfucker cast what is technically a modified illusion curse on you, but last we saw her she had been turned into a pumpkin.”

“Bitch please. Flora’s absolutely fixed that shit by now.”

“Mirta’s fucking insane, Stormy, she might like being a pumpkin.” Darcy snaps back.

“So she’ll go with you.” A voice says, and Darcy cannot help the literal double take she does at that.

The injured mermaid, all but forgotten behind the merman and princess, has dragged her way up the merman’s side. She’s got one hand clawed over his shoulder and her other arm around the princess, and she looks frightfully young between them but determined.

The merman tilts his head towards her, calculating. And then nods. The black stuff coming from his gills visibly slows down. Some sort of defense? She’s never heard of merfolk being able to produce something like that. Magical, maybe, but she doesn’t think he’s a wizard either.

“Tressa’s right.”

“I can’t abandon Andros -“

“Tressa will take your place. That wizard did us a favor by cursing Nereus. Andros will have its twin crowns, and we can hold the fort down here. Take a communicator. We’ll keep in touch. Might need to, to unravel the curse.” He’d been the loudest voice against them mere moments ago, but now, the merman plans the princess’ absence like he’s been waiting for it.

Like they’ve been waiting for it.

“The sooner you get off this planet, the safer you’ll be, Aisha.” The mermaid whispers. Darcy flicks an alarmed look towards her sisters, only to see Icy looking just as on edge.

“We’re about to go declare war on the secret shadow government ruling the entire magical dimension. And un-kidnap the rest of our coven. If you come with us - if you help us - the Company will slaughter your entire planet in retaliation.” Icy says sharply.

“Not if we slaughter them first.” The merman answers, as if it is truly that simple, that obvious, and -

“You’ve been gone for months, you know.” The princess says suddenly, and Darcy’s blood runs cold.

“What.”

“Time passes differently in the Omega Dimension. That’s what makes it the perfect prison.” The mermaid says.

Ah, hell.

“We need to - “

“You need to haul ass. And we have a ship. You take me with you, cure me and my planet, and Andros sides with you in this war.”

Tempting. Very tempting. Darcy almost refuses on principle, but -

But -

“How do you know about it?” Icy asks.

“People talk, if you know where to find safe places to do so.” The princess replies almost derisively.

Andros, Darcy thinks, would have more of those safe places than elsewhere. There are very few planets with as little land mass as Andros, and of those only a few that are inhabited. Andros is not the only homeworld in that number, but it is the only to have a real presence in the magical dimension.

Water, especially in swift-moving or large quantities, can interfere with magics. It’s why Earth still tells tales of running water turning back witches, that witches will float rather than drown.

Someone on Andros might remember those long-murdered planets, she realizes. Might know the truth.

There’s a discharge of power from behind her. Darcy whirls, and so does Icy. Stormy staggers, drops to one knee. Her eyes are glowing, whole body steaming.

“’M fine, calm your tits. Just - helped.” Stormy’s words are slurring, a little, but she flaps a hand at the water and -

The sickly grey-green of Valtor’s curse ends, Darcy realizes. Quite abruptly, too - near to the horizon, almost indistinguishable from the pretty blues of Andros’ pure waters, but still recognizable.

“You contained the curse?” The merman asks, breathes like he cannot believe it.

“Saw him - touch them. Before they mutated.” Stormy rasps. She’s holding her head like she’s got a headache. Probably does. If it weren’t for the Dragon Flame -

“Quarantine the area. Those things will either spread the curse or eat whatever comes in.” Darcy says with a sharp gesture towards the still-squirming mutants, and rushes to her sister’s side. Stormy flops into her.

“How, that was - “

“That wasn’t a curse!”

Ah.

Shit.

She looks back to the…suspiciously alright with intradimensional terrorism fairy and her mermaid friends. The fairy, however, does not look surprised.

“The royal airship is parked behind the temple.”

“Did we just help take over a planet?”

“Stormy, shut the fuck up. Darcy, grab her. I’ve go the wizard.”

“And why are you taking him, exactly?!” The merman demands.

“If we’ve been gone months, I owe Bloom an apology.” Icy sniffs.

It takes everything she possess not to slap her elder sister for that.

“Why do you want out?” Darcy asks. A little late, given that the whole group of them are hobbling through the temple together, but still relevant, she thinks.

“Bride price.” The princess says shortly, and a whip of pink magic shoots out to kick a discarded, ornately decorated pike into the waves.

Ah.

“You could kill them now, to be safe.”

“Can you honestly tell any of them apart?” The mermaid asks, voice strained. Darcy risks a glance over her shoulder, but - no. King or Queen, soldier or priest - none of the now-mutated beings are identifiable. Their jewelry and most of their clothing had torn or slid free in the transformation, and for the fairies in their number, the mutation had half-transformed them.

“They look kind of like slugs. You could throw some salt on them to be safe.”

“The ocean is saltwater, Stormy.”

The merfolk and princess pull faces at Stormy’s suggestion and start muttering amongst themselves.

She’s loopy. Darcy would be concerned, but she’s seen Stormy loopy on magical burnout before, and they’ve got the fucking Dragon Flame in them right now. It’ll be extreme, but she should recover just fine.

“How was he powerful enough to challenge you like that?” Icy whispers.

“He’s - Coven. Feels like - “

“I think I sucked something out when I - “ Stormy interrupts, and then cuts herself off just as abruptly. Icy’s silent. Darcy’s silent.

That’d make…way too much sense.

“So anyway, where are we going after we nab the pixies? And the boys too, I suppose.” Darcy asks. She’s being obvious. She doesn’t care. Stormy looks grateful; Icy also looks desperately relieved.

“Assuming they have everything we need…to rendezvous with our allies.”

Zenith.

“I should call my dad.” Darcy realizes.

“Wha - “

“I doubt the assholes who executed us bothered to contact him! Do you think Griffin did?”

“Lucy would have.”

“No she wouldn’t have. Mirta would have, but Mirta’s a fucking pumpkin right now.”

“We don’t know that! Flora’s not that incompetent!”

“Again! That isn’t a dig at the pixie’s skill!”

“You’re grounded.” Icy deadpans, and Darcy snarls, but -

Probably. Dad wouldn’t have believed anything about them dying, but months without checking in? Yeah, that was a no-crime-for-a-week sort of offense.

“We’ll pick him up.” Icy says firmly. Get him somewhere safe goes unsaid, but Darcy hears it all the same and -

She hadn’t even thought of that. She’d helped with Bloom’s family and never thought -

She wonders if the pixies have put contingencies in place, if their parents and siblings and loved ones have slowly started disappearing from the public eye. Or if they’ve been taken, yet.

Any worry she had about them not really being gone for month dies when they finally arrive at a sleek, state-of-the-art ship embossed with the royal sigil of Andros’ two crowns, and a digital voice chirps out a welcome - a welcome that includes the date, time, and weather conditions.

Months. They missed the new year. It’s nearly summer.

And the pixies and the boys have been alone with their enemies, Griffin and the Tower has been alone with their enemies, for that entire time.

“I want a magically binding oath before I let you on board.” The princess says firmly. The merfolk help her onto the ship’s gangway, directly between them and the interior. Neither Darcy nor her sisters bother protesting.

Icy steps up, expressionless, and twists her hands through the air in a familiar gesture. She calls on fairy magic. A little unusual, but Icy’s apparently determined to make some sort of point. Darcy has no fucking clue what that point is, but more power to her, she guesses.

“The ship now, and Andros’ loyalty and aide later, in exchange for our best and honest efforts at restoring your sight and passage.”

“Ensure the wizard dies before a fortnight has passed, and I will accept your terms.”

“With the authority my sisters’ have granted to me - I, Icy, witch of ice in all its forms, accept on my behalf and theirs.”

“I, Aisha, fairy of water and Crown Princess of Andros, accept on my own behalf.”

The two clasp hands. If Icy had been using a witch’s oath, there would’ve been magical discharge - instead the blue-white and green-pink magic gathered between them simply sinks beneath their skin. Both wince, and Darcy feels the coven bond between her and Icy grow tight, but there is no spectacle.

Subtle. That could be useful.

“If my cousin is so much as bruised while in your care, I will hunt you three down and skin you alive.” The merman growls, squeezes the princess’s shoulders once more, and then slips down into the water without so much as a splash. The mermaid pauses only long enough to kiss the princess’ cheek before following suite.

Being left alone with a blinded and injured fairy should not feel so threatening, not when they have the Dragon Flame itself at their backs. But the fairy doesn’t seem to notice, or perhaps doesn’t care. She reaches out, grasps the ship’s doorframe, and shuffles her way inside, her movements slowed only due to caution - she knows where things are even without her sight there to aide her.

“Welcome aboard.”

Huh.

Darcy thinks she likes her.