Disclaimer

This is purely a work of fiction and the author does not claim ownership of any of Squaresoft's intellectual property.

Author Notes

Inspiration and escapism; Heart of Ice was born as the rays of dawn broke upon my humble shack. This was originally a two-part story to draw out some creative juices and crush a writer's block, but has spiralled into an alternate universe of its own. It is a complete rewrite of the World of Balance based around a single, critical character change.

This is a fluffy, 'light-hearted' piece that should be paired with buttered popcorn and a can of soda.

Enjoy!


Heart of Ice

by Colin

Chapter the First - A Chance Meeting

He was whistling a little jig he had just heard; the tune was just so memorable! Even under occupation, the taverns of South Figaro were the best in the world. It took more than the Imperial Army to stop those girls from dancing.

An explosion rocked the city.

The green-helmet wearing soldier glanced back. Smoke was rising.

"Ooh, that's gonna sting," he remarked.

Footsteps approached and he turned back towards the mansion. A pair of men, wide-eyed and scared out of their minds, gestured towards the rising plume of smoke. "Sir, that was downto-"

"Lieutenant," the soldier corrected.

The two men blanched. "Lieutenant, sir," they apologized as one. "Those were our frontliners!"

"Take a squad to check it out, locals might take the chance to pounce on us," the Lieutenant decided. He pointed at the men guarding the entrance of the mansion. "Go, all of you."

"Sir?"

"I said go!"

The Imperial soldiers left their assigned posts quickly, not noticing the smirk beneath the green-helmet. So concerned they were by the sudden and surprising destruction of their Magitek Armors that they didn't even notice the way he clicked his heels together, or how he was still whistling the tune of the local bars.

Without a care in the world, Locke Cole entered the Imperial Headquarters in an occupied South Figaro.

---

Locke gave the soldier a good kick.

"Hmm, definitely asleep," he remarked. He investigated the crossbolts that he had picked up: they glistened with a strange green liquid. "Better keep these."

"Mrrr!"

Locke glanced over. "Ah, sorry about that," he pulled a key-ring out of the sleeping guard's pocket and quickly unlocked the chains.

She pulled the gag out herself.

"You're awfully short for a soldier..."

Locke looked the woman up and down. Long blond hair, eyes that sparkled despite the fatigue... and a fist so tightly bunched up that it would have put a hole through solid rock.

"Sorry about that," Locke pushed the Imperial helmet just a bit higher so that she could see his eyes. "Forgot about these clothes... I'm not a soldier but I don't think you're going to complain, General Celes."

Her eyes narrowed.

"I'm with the Returners; the name's Locke," he stood back up and gestured outside. "Let's go."

"I can't."

"Are you hurt?" Locke's eyes roved over the beauty's legs. "You don't look like it."

"That's not it."

"Then let's go. I know a way out, but it takes a bit of time," he smirked.

"You don't understand, even if you got me out of here, I'm going to be dead."

"Hey," Locke raised his hands. "I managed to get in here, right? I can get you out. You'll be fine, trust me."

"You only want to help me because you think I'm the General."

That took the wind out of his sails. "What?"

"I'm not General Chere," she repeated.

Locke rolled his eyes. Blond hair, teenaged girl, army uniform with three stars on it... "Okay, I'm not stupid and we don't have time for this," he grumbled. He grabbed her wrist and pulled. "Let's get out of here!"

Despite her complaints, the pair left the storage closet together. Between the shadows, the cobwebs, and the sense of distrust the two had for each other, neither noticed that they were being watched.

---

They paused just before the rickety bridge. They were still high up in the mountains and the air was a little thin.

"Come on Celes, we've got keep moving! Just because there's been no pursuit so far doesn't mean there won't be any."

She was bent over panting, hands on knees as she huffed and puffed. "I can't run any further... and stop calling me that," she complained again.

Locke gestured back at the mountains. "That tunnel isn't secret and they'll come after you, General," he folded his arms. "Frankly, I expected something just before we exited," he mumbled under his breath. "It's like something's not right in the world."

"Just... let me catch my breath," she panted again.

Locke rolled his eyes. "General of the Empire, but barely in shape. I guess you ride everywhere on chocobos, don't you?"

"For the last time, I'm not General Chere!" despite being out of breath, Celes stormed up to Locke with an angry scowl on her face. "Are you that dense?"

"I'm pretty sick of hearing it too," Locke quipped. "Look at that uniform-" his eyes lingered for a second too long, "-and the hair... oh, and the whole being locked up for betraying the Empire!"

"That's what they want you to believe," she groaned. "You Returners really are stupid."

"I was really expecting a little more thanks."

Celes grabbed a fistful of his hair. She pulled, hard.

"Hey, what-"

"Look!"

Locke found himself close -- too close, really -- to the maiden's blond hair.

Wait...

"The roots are red," he pushed her away and looked her up and down once more. "You're a red-head?"

Celes groaned. "For the last time, I'm not Celes! This hair? It's dyed! The uniform? They put it on me!"

Locke raised an eyebrow. "They were torturing you pretty thoroughly... you sure you didn't just hit your head?"

Her exasperation was such that Locke decided it was best to play along.

"Alright, let's just say you're not General Celes. Why were you a prisoner, and who did I just rescue?"

She folded her arms beneath her breasts. "They wanted someone to pretend to be her, to draw attention," she declared. Her eyes followed him as he started to walk around her. "What... what are you doing?"

"Thinking," Locke lied as he discretely checked her out for head trauma.

"Well that's really odd," she remarked. "Anyways, I was about her age and had the same build, it didn't help that the Captain didn't like me-" she glowered at him. "What are you doing now?"

Locke straightened. His eyes quickly averted back to her face. "Keep going!" he said far too quickly.

The girl pulled her cloak closed at last. "Anyways, my name's Ma- gah!"

A part of him wanted to joke about her name being Magah. Another part drew his knife in a heartbeat, pulled not-Celes behind him protectively, and found the man with the darts hidden on the ledge above them.

"I'll protect you," he whispered as he pulled not-Celes close.

Her eyes bulged out and her breaths came in ragged gasps. "Run!" her lips managed to form.

She pushed him off the side of the mountain.

---

They watched as the Returner faded away down the mountainside.

"No one could've survived that," the short man declared. He pulled his cloak tight and hid the pack of darts that were wrapped around his belt.

"The Returners are more than they seem. How's the girl?"

The short man looked at the teenager collapsed beside the mountain pass. "She'll be out for a few hours, Boss."

"Good," the Boss declared. He snapped the buttons together on his own coat. "We'll need her."

"She really does look like her."

"Of course, I'm a man of my word. Let's get out of here."

The short man looked back down the mountain. It was a long drop. "If you really think he survived, shouldn't we go after him?"

"It doesn't matter. It's too late for him to change anything."

"That seems like one hell of a gamble."

The boss brushed back his long, glimmering white hair. He chuckled.

"That's fine with me. They're already all in."