Heyooo! Been a looong time since I wrote anything! Anyway, got a lil oneshot for my favorite lil icewing here. Yes, you may notice a trend of sorts in my bias for icewings, but whatevs, sue me. I like their looks, and that's half of what matters right there. In any case, I wrote this to give my take on Winter's character, specifically after the events of book 10- something that, as a matter of opinion, is frequently misrepresented. I hope this kicks you right in the feels- if it does, be sure to let me know. I enjoy reading the musings of the human race.
Brave.
That was what Moon had called him. Even as a dragon of the cold, it still sent chills down his spine: the warmth in her eyes threatening to melt his cold heart into a lukewarm puddle at any moment. Maybe it wasn't 'I love you' or 'stay with me' or any other melodramatic phrase, but it was more than he ever expected.
That was a year ago.
The flashback played over and over again in his head. Or rather, Winter played it over and over again- remembering where they had been, what they'd been doing. The lines on her face as her snout creased into a smile. How he felt. He'd tried so hard to preserve that inkling of happiness, to frame it and hang it up in his mind where he could admire it from afar.
Sometimes, though, Winter got a little curious, a little desperate- no longer satisfied with just watching. He'd reach out to touch it, his claws landing on its frame- feeling, rubbing, squeezing. But it wasn't long before the abyss opened up behind it, yawning before him, and he remembered the other part too.
Oh yeah. I blew it.
To hope it'd been real. That was his mistake.
It turns out she'd been right though- not only was Winter a selfish jerk, he was a stubborn idiot too. Of all the things he'd promised himself, in his cyclone of rage and pity, that he would never do… he'd done the worst.
His limbs felt like stone. His legs quaked in place. His stomach knotted, his breath hitched. There they were- sitting, laughing, eating together. Having just the most jolly good time. They looked happier than they'd ever been- all without him around.
Why, why, why. Why did I come back, why, I'm so stu-
Winter could feel the slime beginning to pool in his head. Soon it'd be an insurmountable din, totally locking down his train of thought. He'd had these episodes before, but if he didn't deal with this fast, there's no telling what could happen.
But- but- they're right there. He could waltz over there right now and spill the fucking beans- tell them everything he wanted to say. He could tell Qibli how much he actually liked him, how he was a better friend than he'd ever had, how he was really smart- and then turn right around and tell him to fuck himself because he was everything that Winter wanted to be. He could tell Kinkajou how he wished there were more dragons like her in the Ice Kingdom, and then yell at her because he hadn't been one of them. He could tell Turtle how much he had surprised Winter with his guts, laugh at Carnelian's death, call Peril another variation of the word 'murderer'-
And then, if he could just grow some balls…
He could… tell Moon how much he loved her. How much she frustrated him, how the way she stood up him just drew him in more, how her naivety and cluelessness drove him to the edge of insanity. How he regretted every bad thing he had said to her.
Winter grimaced. Abruptly, the wave of panic stopped, as a single thought burst through the storm. He body went slack, and all was quiet.
I can't.
He frowned bitterly. Even after all this time, after all they had been through… he was still just the same.
Vaguely, Winter recalled glimpsing Moon's face turning in his direction as he retreated. Moisture crawled down his cheeks, and his body quivered with agony. Sounds like sobs and wails echoed off the walls, distant and alien. He couldn't keep his issues locked inside anymore, nor did he care if they got out. It had been a long time since he had been allowed to let his feelings be known.
After so much death, so much turmoil, so many mistakes, he still hadn't learned a thing.
I'm still… just… the same.
A disappointment.