The land is frigid and cruel, barren and devoid of sympathy. Harsh and merciless. Valtor shivers, it is not unlike the woman he is confined there with. It is no wonder she didn't seem to mind when they proclaimed that she'd be going back to Omega. But he minded. He still minds. He has not been built for the cold.

He can imagine that she is having the time of her life, even without the company of her sisters. The two traitors, he can't help but feel bitter. And twice over that Icy hadn't abandoned him in battle, but hasn't sought him out in the Omega dimension. Perhaps it is that she only stayed because she thought that he would win. Now that he has lost, she has written him off completely.

That she resents him for his miserable failure.

He finds himself furious with him as well. He let her get too close. He let himself fall. What kind of evil sorcerer has he become, letting his heart run wild? He is a disgrace to himself and he hasn't even her affections to soften the blow.

Valtor longs to kick and beat on the ice. Beat on it as though it can knock his affections for the ice witch away. But he is locked so tightly within it that all he can do is think. Think and wallow in his own brand of self pity.

Perhaps he could have won if he had betrayed the three of them. Perhaps they had been dead weight with their constant bickering over him-the sort that hindered their progress.

Perhaps he should have picked one of them to end the banter.

Perhaps he should have told her.

But somehow he, the great and feared sorcerer, feared the ice witch. Feared the sting of her mockery. Feared a rejection as frigid as her name.

In his mind he begins to blur the line between love and hate. He hates that he loves her. He hates her in general. But he loves her. He hates her because he loves her and she has left him to suffer while she played in the snow.

He closes his eyes, it is the one physical action he can muster. He only opens them at the sound of his frosty cage cracking.

"You truly are useless without me, aren't you?" It is just the greeting he expects from her.

"How many snowmen did you build before coming to find me?"

"Seven." Icy answers dryly and he truly can't tell if she is being sarcastic or not.

"What do you want?" He tries to be as cold as she in his demeanor and tone.

She quirks a brow, "a real man." She looks around, "haven't found one yet."

Valtor blinks. "I'm a real man." He nearly sputters.

"Questionable."

He can't seem to think of a good comeback. Why is it that he never can with her. He thinks that it is because he hasn't found anything he hates about her, save for her rejection. "Your attitude is questionable." He mumbles lamely.

"Pretty sure that one of my professors wrote that on my report card once." Icy beckons for him to follow her.

"Where are we going?"

Icy shrugs. "They sealed the last spot we breached. I've been searching for a new one."

"And?"

"I have made just about as much progress as Darcy made in potions class."

"Wow, you've accomplished nothing." Valtor silently congratulates himself on the quip.

Icy shrugs. "I don't particularly mind it here."

"Well I do and I'd love to get out of here so we can go our separate ways…"

She whips a snowball at him. "I went down with your sinking ship and you want to part ways!?"

"You don't?" He tries not to sound too hopeful.

"Not particularly." Her tone is once again infuriatingly nonchalant.

Prying feelings from her is a painstaking task, maybe even an impossible one. But he pushes anyhow. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why don't you want to part ways?"

"I believe that we can still benefit from each other."

His hopes shatter. "You can benefit from me!" He snaps. "Now that I am free again, I have all the power that I need. I don't need your help." For good measure he adds, "you're the reason that I lost. If the three of you had any competence…"

Her glare cuts his words short. The gesture she makes with her hands has him dreading a second frigid entrapment. But instead she turns and storms off. He can swear that the temperature had dropped a few degrees. He watches her go and hates the both of them that much more.

That night there is a raging blizzard. One that chills him to the core. Either she hasn't wandered off very far or her rage is simply this potent. Or maybe the weather is a coincidence. He doesn't understand why his words angered her so. She has always been one to brush words off. He wanders his way through the blizzard, telling himself that he is only curious as to whether or not this is her storm. And curious as to how far she has wandered.

His cheeks are red and stinging and his hands were growing numb. He finds no sign of the ice witch. He has nothing to do but keep pushing forward through the frost and the pelting hail. Valtor walks until the task is too much for him. He slumps forward.

In waking, he is disoriented and infuriated. She has nearly killed him. He stands and scans his surroundings.

And he sees her.

Icy is sleeping rather peacefully for someone trapped with a man she'd thoroughly pissed off.

He stomps up, until he looms over her. She cracks an eyelid. "Oh, you're awake."

"You almost killed me!"

Icy sits up, "I didn't tell you to enter the blizzard, you did that yourself." She speaks in a low and poisonous hiss.

"Perhaps if you didn't throw your tantrum…"

"Perhaps," she mocks, "I wouldn't have 'thrown my tantrum' if you weren't such an insufferable asshole."

He closes the remaining space between them.

"Ooo, scary man." Icy rolls her eyes.

He often forgets that she is taller than he. "Yes, I am." He agrees. "And you will know that soon enough."

He didn't expected her to laugh. "You are truly incredible, you know that?" She asks. "I'm literally in my element, I have all of this…" she gestures to the ice and snow. "You're surrounded by my power source. But, I do admire your bravery."

"Do you happen to admire anything else?" It slips out.

The question seems to take the witch aback. "Your great aptitude for evil." She answers.

"Anything else?" Valtor pushes.

He is certain that she will say no. Instead, she trails her fingers through his locks, "I was always fond of your hair."

The gesture is unusually intimate. Icy's hand lingers there, as though she isn't quite sure of what to do with it.

It dawns upon him that the blizzard was born of a feeling of rejection. The very same one he had felt. He wishes that she would just come out with it, heaven knew that he couldn't. She draws her hand away and turns her back on him. He knows that he is going to have to speak.

"I care about you."

Icy halts.

It isn't enough. "I would have chosen you."

She turns around.

"Over Darcy and Stormy, I would have chosen you."

"Well, naturally." That cocky smile is back. It is that sort of bold self-confidence that has him allured in the first place.

He tags along as she wanders away. "Would you have?"

She nods and he smiles. But she ruins the moment, "I would have certainly chosen me over Darcy and Stormy." He frowns at the words. She gives a rather deep sigh. "I'm here aren't I?" It takes him a moment to realize that, that is her way of saying that she would have...that she did choose him.

Valtor's body acts on its own accord. He pulls her into a tight hug and holds her there for a moment.

"Alright, enough of this." She half-heartedly tugs away. When he lets her go, her cheeks are a light shade of pink and he knows that he can't credit that to the cold.

"You do feel the same, don't you?" He dares.

Icy only offers him an indignant sniff. Yet she makes no denials.

"You do." He confirms to himself, feeling rather smug. He fixes his gaze on her. She is an elegant woman. He admires the confidence in her strides.

She casts a lazy glance back at him. "Perhaps I do."

He only has a moment to drink in the satisfaction before colliding with a mound of snow. He picks himself up and brushes the snow away. He knows that Icy finds humor in his bewilderment. Her expression flickers from amusement to realization and then to something else entirely.

"I worked hard on that." She grumbles.

"You have five more!" He states when he finally puts two and two together. He can't quite believe that she had been serious.

"Six." She corrects.

He hates it here, hates it as much as she loves it. Hates it with all of his soul. But here, he realizes, he will see different sides of her. The ones she keeps hidden. Perhaps, his imprisonment won't be so horrid.

He takes her hand.