Disclaimer: Erm… Nope. Don't own it. There is a line taken from Lord of the Rings: Return of the King, which I also do not own, so don't hurt me.

Chapter Five: Cold as Ice

"Watch out!"

Two bodies crashed to the rocky ground as a monstrous drill swept overhead.

"Need I remind you I have a severe case of broken ribs!" Celes shouted angrily.

"So you're saying you'd prefer a drill through your chest?" Locke retorted.

"Just go for the sensor eye!"

The thief jabbed at the red eye of the tank, but a small clawed arm swung forward and knocked the dirk out of his hand.

"Um… Any other suggestions?" he called.

The iron beast began emitting an ear-piercing squeal.

"It's about to use its magic!" Celes warned.

"This thing can use magic?" Locke practically screeched. "What now?"

Celes whipped out her Rune Blade and its etchings took on a mystical glow as she chanted.

"Hale ca, runi men ca la. Ala den que met ca la, runi ca."

A bolt of lightning was sent at Locke, but it abruptly changed direction and instead flowed right into the glowing sword.

"What the hell was that?" Locke exclaimed.

"I'll explain later, just get ready!"

Celes held out her hand and called upon the energy stored within her blade, releasing the same charge of electricity back at the giant armored tunneler, stunning it.

"Now, Locke!"

The thief rolled under the drill and retrieved his dirk, then stabbed it up into the red eye. The sensor shattered, and the entire mechanism shut down. Both breathed a sigh a relief and made their way out of the caves.

"Ok, what was that back there?"

"I don't just have the ability to use magic," Celes explained. "I can also absorb it into my Rune Blade and use that energy as I see fit."

"Even as magic that you haven't technically learned?"

"Yes."

"…That's handy."

The two had just left the cabin that morning for the caves west of South Figaro, where they were attacked by the Tunnel Armor. Now out of the gloomy passages, they were faced with the Figaroan desert. The better part of the long scorching journey passed in silence, except for Locke's occasional complaints about the heat. Celes' natural coldness kept her relatively comfortable at least. She was recovering quickly, but still had a long road to full strength, as her ribs were still tender and fragile. The indication of her torture was still evident in the major gashes and bruises she retained, but it was gradually fading away.

They reached the coal mining city two and a half days after leaving the cabin. The Narshe guards posed a nuisance, but between the skills the two travelers possessed, the sentries were easily avoided. When they entered the home of Arvis, a Returner sympathizer, Locke was met with warm welcomes from his friends, while Celes was met with mixed looks of vague recognition and skepticism. She looked on silently, avoiding eye contact with everyone.

"Cole, you made it," the king, Edgar, greeted.

"Of course," Locke laughed. "You think a minor thing like an entire army is going to stop me? I'm the world's premier adventurer!"

No one noticed when a brawny figure in the corner of the room behind Celes quietly drew his katana.

"Who's with you?" Edgar asked incredulously, his eyes narrowing.

Locke hesitated momentarily, then didn't get the chance to answer.

"Imperial General Celes Chere," a deep voice rumbled bitterly.

Celes reached for her the hilt of her sword, but was stopped at cold steel pressed to her throat.

"No, no!" he warned. "Thou hast not the speed, General."

Celes swore under her breath. She had thought she felt a presence behind her earlier, but dismissed it. By the time she felt the danger, it was too late, and she cursed herself for it. Locke, however, swore not-so under his breath when he saw the predicament Celes was in.

"Oh shit…"

An older, but strong looking Doman warrior held the tip of his katana to the Imperial's throat. And he didn't look like a reasonable kind of man.

"Cyan, what are you doing?" the king's brother, Sabin, asked frantically.

"This is the Butcher of Maranda! She's killed thousands!" the older warrior reasoned.

"I've butchered more than Maranda," Celes muttered icily. "And you'd be wise to lower your katana."

There was a deadly calm in her tone that made the others anxious, not to mention her annoyed expression that would make the strongest of men cringe. Locke had heard that a glare from General Celes was like staring down an angry behemoth, and at that moment, he wished for the behemoth. Even in her wounded state, Locke could only imagine what she was capable of, and she was only getting stronger with each passing day.

Cyan ignored the suggestion, misinterpreting her warning. "Thou believe I fear this petty thief?"

"Hey, call me a treasure hunter or I'll—"

"Locke!" Edgar interrupted impatiently. "I have two questions for you, Cole. How…and what the hell were you thinking?" he asked angrily, gesturing towards Celes.

"Edgar!" Locke exclaimed, but the king cut him off.

"Explain. Five words or less."

Exhaling in exasperation, Locke held up a finger for each word. "Beaten. Half. To. Death."

Locke looked at the four fingers he held up, then looked at Edgar. The king merely shifted his eyes to the general for a fleeting moment.

"You have one word left. Choose wisely."

Locke glanced back at Celes before answering. "Traitor."

"She's an Imperial spy! She must be dealt with," Cyan insisted.

"I have no qualms with you, Doman. But I will if you do not lower your blade," she warned venomously.

"I suffer no Imperial to live within my sight," Cyan snarled.

The Doman drew back to cleave her head from her shoulders, but just before his katana reached her throat, her left hand shot up and caught the blade, and she turned towards him, carrying with her a glare like a glimpse into Hell as she forcefully lowered the warrior's sword.

"You will suffer me," Celes growled frigidly.

"Impossible," Cyan seethed, seeing no blood flow from her hand. "Daemon!" he spat.

"Edgar, this needs to stop before someone gets killed!" Locke implored.

The Figaroan monarch merely looked the other way, not knowing what to do. Cyan jerked his sword back, catching Celes off guard and pulling her with it. She cried out as the Doman's knee impacted with her ribs, and her once vise-like grip on the blade dropped immediately. The older warrior raised his sword for the death blow, but Locke rammed into him with all his might, forcing him into the wall.

"Back off!" the thief yelled.

Cyan shoved the smaller man back. "If thy allegiance lie with the general, then thou art mine enemy."

He once again lifted his katana to strike, but this time Celes came forth, her Rune Blade sliding from its sheath like a striking cobra, and sparks flew as the two blades collided.

"Your quarrel lies with me," she hissed. "And I have no more patience."

Celes released her right hand from the hilt of her blade and extended it towards the Doman, a cold sphere of misty energy growing out of thin air.

"Stop this!"

A young green-haired girl ran forth and grabbed the general's outstretched hand, and the sizzling of fire meeting ice was clearly heard throughout the room. Celes' expression softened.

"Terra?"

The girl looked into the other woman's eyes, and a shadow of recognition flickered in her emerald eyes. Just then, a Narshe sentry burst into the room, holding a piece of paper.

"Sir!" he called to Banon, the leader of the Returners. "One of our men found this in town. They're being posted in all major cities around the world."

Banon took the paper, and read it in silence. Everyone else was quiet, shifting their gaze between Banon, Celes, Cyan, and Terra, none of whom moved an inch.

Almost as soon as he started reading, Banon looked up at Celes with an odd expression before continuing reading. After a moment, he looked up at Locke, slight anger flashing in his eyes. He finished reading, and forcefully handed it to Locke.

"Mind explaining this?"

Imperial Military Report: Sept. 8, 1019

General Celes Chere accused and convicted of treason. Sentenced to death. Jail cell found empty. In pursuit of Chere and Returner suspected of freeing her, Locke Cole. Both considered extremely dangerous. Kill on sight. Reward for information or their bodies.

Celes Chere: White female. Age: 18. Height: 5'9". Weight: 119 lbs. Eyes: Blue. Hair: Long, blonde. Other Identifying Traits: Biomechanic left hand, wields a sword with engraved markings on the blade. Magic user. Element: Ice

Locke Cole: White Male. Age: mid-20's. Height: near 6'. Weight: 140 lbs. Eyes: Gray. Hair: medium, blonde. Other Identifying Traits: Wears a bandana. May travel in disguise.

Locke read it over, wincing at the mention of his name and the order to kill on sight. Banon didn't even wait for him to start explaining.

"Do you realize what you've done?" His tone was harsh. "You've endangered not only our mission, but the lives of the Returners by bringing her here."

"What are you talking about, Banon?" Locke asked in exasperation.

"You were supposed to be discreet in your dealings in South Figaro. You were supposed to go undetected, unidentified. But now they know it was a Returner who slowed them up, and what's worse, that he's harboring a wanted traitor. You've probably led the Imperials right to us!"

Celes stopped paying attention to Cyan and more to the conversation, as did Cyan. The two simultaneously disengaged from their deadlock in a silent truce, and Terra also released Celes' hand. The general walked to Locke and took the report from him, scanning it quickly while Locke and Banon continued to argue.

"What was I supposed to do, Banon? Leave her there to die? She'd already been tortured for three days straight! She'd already suffered indignities no human being should have to endure!"

"Locke, rescuing an Imperial foot soldier is one thing. But you jeopardized our entire movement by freeing an Imperial general, someone who may have better served this world dead!"

Before Locke could get a hold of himself, he lashed out, punching Banon square in the jaw, knocking him to the floor.

"Locke!" several people yelped in surprise.

Celes was also visibly taken aback by his aggressive reaction. The only person who had ever stuck up for her like that was Leo back when she was a kid. While Sabin and Terra helped Banon to his feet, Edgar grabbed Locke's arm and forcefully turned the thief towards him.

"Locke, what the hell is wrong with you?" Locke looked away and didn't respond. "You just hit Banon! And for what?"

Still Locke didn't reply. He kept his head turned away with his eyes closed as if ashamed of the answer. Edgar groaned.

"You're not still thinking about that, are you?" Again, no answer. "Gods, Locke… You're taking this too far."

"You know…" Locke finally started. "I try to do a good thing, and it blows up in my face. And do you know what's ironic about this? People hate me for bringing Celes here almost as much as I would've hated myself for leaving her. Not a single person is appreciative. Not even Celes herself."

With that, Locke walked out the door. Everyone stood in awkward silence. No one could really argue his point, except for Terra.

"I think he did a good thing," she said softly.

Edgar studied Celes for a long moment, seeing a look of indifference in her darkened expression. He wondered if she really wasn't grateful for his help, if she really didn't care. Maybe she was unfeeling…

"He's protective of you," he noted pointlessly. "Much more protective than he ever was of Terra…

Celes looked up at Edgar, shifted her gaze to Terra for a second, then walked to the end of the room furthest away from everybody to gaze out a window.

"Just don't get the wrong idea," Edgar called. "Locke has a complicated past."

She turned and glared at him. "What the hell do you think I am?" she asked spitefully.

"Cold as ice," the young king muttered under his breath. "Look, I just wouldn't want you to think he's fallen for you or something."

Celes scoffed in disgust and turned back to the window. Banon bent over to pick up the military report the general had let fall to the floor earlier and conversed quietly with Edgar while rubbing his jaw.

"You do realize that there are people here in Narshe who would not hesitate to turn Locke and Celes in? And that if they decide to, the Imperials will be on our doorstep in a matter of hours?"

"Well, what are you going to do? Turn them away? You might as well turn them over to the Imperials yourself. Look, I've known Locke for years, and I've learned to trust his judgment. And if he trusts Celes… She's not all that different from Terra."

"On the contrary," Cyan argued, "Terra had no free will, whereas the general chose to serve the Empire."

"Did I?" Celes asked from across the room, having heard everything. "I may not have worn a slave crown, but that doesn't mean I chose my path. I don't deny the things I did. I don't deny the choices I made. But I never chose to serve the Empire. I was born into it…bred into it," she finished in a whisper.

"That's no excuse," Cyan spat.

"Were you not born into the service of your liege?" she retorted quietly.

That shut Cyan up. He almost told her not to compare herself to him, but he knew it was a losing argument. As much as he hated to admit it, she did have a point.

Celes also walked out, deciding it was best not to stay where one wanted her blood and another probably ordered her assassination two years before. It was already getting dark out, and she noticed curious lights off in the distance. She didn't think anything of them, though, and started to walk down the steps.

"Going somewhere?" a familiar voice asked gently behind her.

She stopped. "Perhaps."

"Ok. After all, that was the deal. Only as far as Narshe…"

Celes turned towards Locke. "Not going to try to stop me?"

He just shrugged. "Your choice."

"Can I just ask one question?"

"Shoot."

"Why'd you do it?" she queried, motioning towards the house.

Locke thought for a moment. "Because I believe that you're more than your reputation, and I believe in sticking up for who you really are."

Celes appeared to be dumbfounded by this. The more she tried to understand him, the more puzzled she became. Locke barely even knew her, yet he had gone so far as to make enemies out of friends to defend her.

"Besides," Locke continued. "I promised I'd protect you. I don't back down on my word."

"You make it sound like you're coming with me," Celes noted indifferently.

"Well…"

Now Locke was caught at a crossroads. He held promises to two people. One was choosing a different path, and the other was staying with the Returners, where Locke held certain responsibilities. Was he willing to give that up for one person? Who needed him more? Maybe Edgar was right, maybe Locke was taking things too far.

"Not…not necessarily," he finished. "I mean, I don't suppose I could convince you to stay…"

Celes looked back to the horizon, seeing the lights had grown brighter, as if they were closer… A realization struck her. The Imperials! Of course… Half my unit was joining Kefka's to raid Narshe…

Locke noticed Celes was staring at something in the distance with a strange expression on her face. She looked confused and anxious, but like something suddenly made sense.

"What is it?" he asked worriedly.

Just then, a Narshe sentry ran past them into the house. "The Empire cometh!"