Author's Note: Well it's time to dive back into the water of a pairing that I only started writing because I was inspired by a lovely piece of fan art, but it turned out to work far better than I would have ever imagined. Seriously. Winter and Yang have some real chemistry when you put them together. This is going to be the first time I've written Yang/Winter in a longer format, so hopefully you enjoy it.

Just so everything is clear, this story is written in a traditional fantasy setting. There are no semblances, auras, Dust, Grimm, or anything of that sort.

Oh. And bonus literary nerd points for anyone who can name what the title to this story is referencing.

This is the Teen and Up rated version of the story. The Mature rated version has been posted over on Archive of Our Own.

This story was written during the ever lengthening interim between Volumes 8 and 9.


Chapter 1: An Accidental Rescue

Winter's boots echoed in the gloom as she cautiously made her way down a stone hallway. Her hand gripped her sword tightly. She had been on the trail of a dragon for nearly a week now, and her search had led her to the crumbling keep of an ancient castle on the outskirts of Atlas, long abandoned by whatever forgotten kingdom of old had built it. She found it ironic that a fortress meant to protect humans would become the last redoubt of a beast that hunted them.

The hallway turned sharply up ahead. Winter inched up to the corner and pressed her back against the wall. It never paid to be hasty when pursuing a quarry as dangerous as a dragon, and Winter's caution turned out to be warranted. She could just barely hear a pair of faint voices coming from further inside the keep.

Winter's eyes narrowed. The reports that had come in from the countryside had spoken of one dragon, not two. And dragons were fiercely territorial creatures. Two of them hunting in the same area, while not unprecedented, would have been highly unusual. However, there were very clearly two voices echoing in the dark.

Winter strained her ears. Even for a seasoned dragon slayer such as herself, fighting two dragons at once would be suicidal. She needed to know more about what she was up against. Unfortunately, despite her best efforts, she could only pick out a few words here and there.

"…maybe…lost…"

"…way…humans'…let…"

"…kind of…"

"…fine…here for…"

Winter frowned. She had never personally heard a dragon speak before, although they were unquestionably intelligent enough to do so. However, one of the voices was low and rumbling. There was no mistaking that it was coming from a sizable creature. But confusingly the other voice was a smooth alto. In fact, it almost sounded human. Winter recalled a vague rumor she'd heard years ago that dragons could take on the guise of humans. Although she'd also heard that dragons could grow to the size of mountains on a whim, grant wishes, and turn invisible. None of those had yet proven to be true. It was amazing how often dragons were the subject of unfounded speculation.

Winter's hand absently came up and touched her chest. She was reassured by the feeling of unyielding metal meeting her fingers. She was wearing a breastplate underneath her tunic, and not just any breastplate. Even for one born into royal privilege such as Winter, her armor was the single most valuable object she had ever laid eyes on. The armor was magical, which made its worth impossible to quantify with something as quaint as gold. Wizards were a vanishingly rare sort of people—far rarer than even dragons—and it was notoriously difficult to compel one of them to set aside their magical studies long enough to provide "mundane" enchantments for armor or weapons. It was a shame really. Their collective obsession with plumbing the depths of the arcane usually led them to untimely, unpleasant, and often explosive ends.

Ordinarily there would have been no way even someone royal-born like Winter would have been able to acquire magical armor. But her order, The Holy Order of the Dragon Slayers, had resources and connections far beyond any one kingdom. However, even the Order wasn't without its limits. To Winter's chagrin, she only had a normal arming sword to complement her magical armor.

The voices continued to speak in hushed tones. Winter realized she needed to act soon. Dragons were difficult to pin down. And it was especially rare to have the luxury of confronting one in a confined space such as this keep. This would be her best opportunity to slay the beast. She could contemplate the mystery of why it had chosen to roost here later, after it was dead.

Winter stepped around the corner and started walking farther down the hallway. However, she had only gotten a few steps before she heard the voices pick up.

"…shh…coming…"

Then the voices went silent.

Winter paused. Her suspicions were aroused, but after a moment, she resumed walking. Either the beast knew she was there or it did not. If it did there was no point in running. A dragon was far faster than a human on foot. And if it didn't this was her opportunity to strike.

Winter finally emerged from the corridor and found herself in what once had been a grand hall, literally fit for a king. The room rose up to the full height of the keep, and the gloom was partially driven back by daylight seeping in through cracks in the walls. Winter could easily imagine the oaken tables, plush carpets, elegant tapestries, and colorful frescoes that must have graced this place in its day. Now all that was left was dust, a few rotting timbers, and the faint smell of decay.

The dragon was nowhere to be seen, much to Winter's surprise. However, the hall wasn't exactly devoid of life. At the back of the space was a raised dais. No doubt it was where the lord of this place had presided over his court. And standing on the dais, manacled in thick chains, was a beautiful woman.

Winter's first impulse was to rush to the woman's aid, but her training and instincts held her back. Her eyes scanned the room, looking for hidden threats. Dragons weren't exactly known for being stealthy, but Winter wasn't taking any chances.

The woman must have noticed Winter's presence because she suddenly tugged on her chains and shouted, "Oh! You've come to rescue me! Help! Help!"

"Please lower your voice," Winter said, biting back her exasperation. She started walking cautiously toward the woman. Her head darted back and forth as she tried to suss out where the dragon might have gone.

"Get me out of here! Before that horrible monster comes back!" the woman shouted, not lowering her voice at all.

If Winter hadn't known better, she would've said that there was a sarcastic edge to the woman's tone. But that was ridiculous. Regardless, she quickened her pace, realizing that the woman wasn't going to quiet down until she was freed.

As Winter approached, she studied the keep's unexpected occupant. The woman was tall, blonde, and looked to be about Winter's age, or perhaps a few years her junior. She was wearing what had once been a fine dress which was now ripped and torn. But despite the state of the woman's clothes, Winter didn't see any sign of injury on the woman herself. She didn't have so much as a bruise marring her flawless skin.

Winter finally reached the dais and hefted herself up on top. She quickly closed the distance to the woman in order to see if she could remove her chains.

"Did you really come all this way to save me?" the woman asked, sounding more curious than distressed, despite her predicament.

"I came to slay the dragon," Winter said. "But I will do my best to protect you as well."

"Slay the dragon, huh," the woman said, a sinister tone creeping into her voice. Her lilac eyes twinkled mischievously. "Good luck."

The sound of air rushing past leathery wings was Winter's only warning. She spun around just in time to see a dragon crash down into the center of the room. She had no idea where the beast had been hiding, and it didn't particularly matter now. The entire keep shook with the impact, and tiny bits of debris and dust rained down from the ceiling. The dragon was small by the standards of its species, but it was still the length of at least four draft horses from snout to tail. Its scales were red like the color of blood, and its silver, catlike eyes were filled with malice.

The dragon spread its wings wide and reared back its head. A bellowing roar escaped its maw. The horrible sound was enough to make even a brave soul quake with fear, but Winter's resolve was strong. She tightened her grip on her sword, hopped off the dais, and charged forward.

Realizing its prey was not intimidated, the dragon lifted one of its forelegs. Its huge foot came rushing toward Winter, attempting to crush her. However, Winter nimbly dodged out of the way. She tucked into a roll and popped back to her feet underneath the beast's belly just as its foot slammed into the floor. The dragon's head darted back and forth. It was clearly confused about where Winter had gone, but it wouldn't remain confused for long. Winter thrust her sword upward, directly into the creature's underside.

Contrary to popular belief, a dragon's belly was not its weak point. The scales there were just as iron-hard as those anywhere else on its body. However, a dragon's scales didn't make it invulnerable. Winter's sword might not have been magical, but its blade tapered to a sharp point, making it perfect for thrusting attacks. The sword's tip easily slipped into the gap between two of the dragon's scales and stabbed at the flesh underneath.

The dragon howled in pain. The wound the beast had received was no more debilitating to it than a scratch was to a human, but dragons were unaccustomed to feeling pain. The dragon flapped its mighty wings and lifted up into the air. Flames started licking at the edges of its mouth.

Winter watched intently as the beast hovered over her. She stood her ground and held her sword on guard as if it could somehow protect her.

The dragon let loose, and a jet of hellish fire spewed out of its mouth. The blazing flames crashed down on Winter. The sheer pressure of the blast alone forced Winter down onto her knee, but she did not burn. Not one hair on her head nor thread of her tunic caught fire thanks to the magical enchantment on her armor.

Winter gritted her teeth. Her free hand reached into a pouch strapped to the small of her back. Ingenuity and surprise were her best tools against a dragon's brute strength, as she intended to demonstrate. She pushed off the ground with her legs and suddenly burst out of the jet of fire in a sprint. Before the dragon had time to realize what was happening, Winter withdrew a small, iron-clad bomb from her pouch. She threw it right for the dragon's head. The bomb got caught in the conflagration spewing forth from the dragon's mouth, and absent the magical protection of Winter's armor, it exploded right in the dragon's face.

There was an earsplitting boom, and the jet of flame immediately stopped. Winter's ears were ringing from all the noise, but she still heard the dragon let out a sound not unlike the yip of a startled dog.

The dragon, wounded and disoriented by the point-blank blast, lost its coordination and crashed back down to the floor, landing hard on its belly instead of gracefully on its feet.

"Oooooo," the woman up on the dais said like she was a spectator at the arena and not a prisoner in mortal peril.

Not wasting a second, Winter's hand plunged into her pouch once more. This time she withdrew a bola and immediately began spinning it above her head. The dragon was just getting to its feet when Winter released her bola. The tethered weights whipped through the air and snagged on one of the dragon's wings.

The dragon jerked to the side as the bola collided with its wing, and it let out a grunt of discomfort as the weights wound tight. It tilted its long neck to see what had happened. When it spotted its now useless wing tangled up in the bola its bestial face made an expression that approximated consternation.

The dragon's head turned back toward Winter. There was fresh anger in its eyes, but those eyes quickly widened when the beast saw Winter charging directly for it. Winter let out a battle cry as she thrust her sword into one of the dragon's forelegs, and again the blade slipped between the creature's scales. The beast roared in pain once more and lifted its leg to swat at Winter. However, Winter was already on the move again. She darted under the creature's belly and stabbed up into it just like before. Then, anticipating what would happen next, she ran back out into the open just as the dragon slammed itself into the ground in an effort to smash its tormentor.

Winter knew victory was within her grasp, but she kept her focus razor-sharp. A battle wasn't over until it was over. She ran for the dragon's hind leg and very precisely thrust her blade right into the dragon's knee. But she didn't stop there. She pressed all her weight against her sword, sinking the blade in as deep as it would go.

The sound the dragon let out this time wasn't a mighty roar but a whimpering howl. Gripping the hilt of her sword with both hands, Winter pulled it out as roughly as she could, then she backed away cautiously like a lumberjack prepared to watch a tree fall.

The dragon wobbled unsteadily. It reflexively flapped its wings to try to regain its balance, but with one of them disable by Winter's bola, the effort only made things worse. The mighty beast collapsed onto the keep's floor with a thundering crash.

Pure adrenaline was pumping in Winter's veins now, keeping any exhaustion she might have felt at bay. She marched toward the dragon, filled with righteous purpose, and placed the tip of her sword right on the dragon's neck. The beast had been vanquished. All that was left to do was see it slain.

Winter was just about to deliver the coup de grâce when the most unexpected thing happened. Someone sucker punched her right across her cheek. Winter's head jerked sharply to the side. She was all but certain she had been hit by a fist, but the blow felt like it had been delivered by a battering ram. However, the question of what had hit her quickly proved academic as she felt unconsciousness rushing up to meet her. She took one wobbling step backward and then collapsed to the floor in a heap.

An indeterminate amount of time passed before Winter's eyes fluttered back open. Confused and disoriented, her hand fumbled about until it grasped the hilt of a sword, her sword. Winter saw a stone ceiling above her, but she wasn't sure where she was. She was also confused as to why her cheek was throbbing in pain. She scrambled to her feet, and memories finally started trickling back to her as she looked around. She was in the ruins of an ancient keep. She had found and defeated a dragon. But then what had happened?

Winter's eyes landed on a bola lying on the floor whose cord looked like it hadn't been cut so much as ripped apart by brute force. Her gaze traveled upward, and she saw that a new hole had been smashed into the keep's wall, and up in the sky outside was a crimson speck that was rapidly fading into the distance.

Winter suddenly realized that her quarry was escaping. But before she could formulate a new plan, a voice interrupted her. "You did it! You saved me!"

Winter turned her head and saw the mysterious blonde woman who had been chained up on the dais running right for her. The woman quite literally jumped into Winter's arms. Winter dropped her sword and caught the woman, perplexed by the stranger she was now unintentionally holding in a bridal carry.

"My hero!" the woman said, and she planted a kiss directly on Winter's lips.

Winter was completely stunned. She could only spare a single, confused thought to wonder what was going on. Somehow the day had gone from stalking a dragon to kissing a maiden, and Winter couldn't quite figure out how one had led to the other.


Author's Note: And so the brave knight has rescued the beautiful princess from the terrible dragon. And they all lived happily ever after. The end? No. Definitely not the end.

I tried with this chapter to come up with a more realistic way that someone on foot could defeat a dragon in combat. Let's be honest. Out in the open a dragon should be able to take on a whole group of humans armed with swords or spears. Or even bows. And if the dragon didn't like the odds, it could always just fly away. But, you know, knights hopelessly chasing after dragons doesn't make for a very interesting story.

As a side note, I'm not completely sure if "bola" is supposed to be a singular or plural noun. Are weights connected by cords called a bola or a pair of bolas? Like how pants are always a pair of pants and not a pant? I couldn't get the Internet to give me a consensus.

As always, I welcome constructive criticism. Please feel free to leave a review. And if you like what you've read, taking the time to favorite and/or follow really helps me out. You can also find me on tumblr (electronicyarn) if you want to send me a message or be notified of updates.