Blaze's outpost was small, but still spacious enough to house a war room. That's where Glacier had spent the past several hours of her life, arguing angrily with the advisors who had flown down from the Ice Palace. She knew that she shouldn't have been so cross with them, certainly not when she had summoned them so urgently, but their suggestions were… not what she had expected.

"My decision is final," she declared, mustering as much authority as she could in her voice. "We are not engaging Blister's army. We don't have a tactical advantage."

"But we have the numbers, Your Majesty" one IceWing pointed out, stabbing at the map on the table before them with his talons. "And a reason to attack! If we lure them to this choke…"

"Are you letting emotion guide war planning, Permafrost?" Glacier asked with an icy glare. "We have no true advantage, unless you consider your willingness to needlessly sacrifice our soldiers an advantage. Do not question my strategy with daft nonsense."

Fear flashed in the smaller dragon's eyes. He bowed to the queen. "My apologies, Your Majesty."

"Good," she said. "Then it is decided. I shall return to the Ice Palace tomorrow to review our next course of action. Please have presentations prepared. You are all dismissed," she declared with a flick of her wings. One of the IceWing guards opened the door, allowing the tired advisors to file out one by one.

Only when the room had completely emptied did the queen allow her shoulders to fall. Exhaustion muddled the usual sharp, glacial blues of her eyes, lids half-crested over her dull gaze. Glacier let out an unqueenly grumble as she exited the war room, finding herself in the main chambers of the outpost. In the past, it had acted as a diplomatic waystation miles away from the Great Ice Cliff, but the SandWings have taken the liberty of adding their own decor to the base.

A small part of her wondered if the Ice Kingdom's animus-touched bracelets were still hidden somewhere in these halls. In ancient times, they allowed other dragons safe passage across the Great Ice Cliff and immunity to the freezing cold of the Ice Kingdom. Visiting dragons would equip themselves here with the gift of diplomacy before journeying north to the splendorous Ice Palace.

With the entire continent at war, there was no longer need for something as silly as that. They must have been removed long before Blaze was allowed residency here.

Glacier walked across the chamber, nodding at the throne of cushions in the back before gazing at all the tapestries lining the sand-colored walls, illuminated by flickering torchlight. She couldn't blame Blaze or her own guards for wanting to make the outpost feel like home, replete with the desert warmth. That didn't prevent Glacier from finding the decoration a little tacky, though.

Another hallway, guarded by a pair of not SandWings, but IceWings, led to the infirmary. The SandWings garrisoned at the base were of course unhappy to be relieved of their duty to their queen, but even they couldn't deny that they failed to protect Blaze. Though she didn't dare mention it to Six-Claws, she found their discipline mediocre at best and disastrous at worst. IceWings were far more meticulous and ready.

True to her thoughts, the guards stationed before her sat up straighter as she approached. "Your Majesty," they murmured.

"At ease," she said softly, matching their tone. "How is she?

"Very talkative," one of the IceWings said. "She doesn't seem the least bit affected by her injury. She did request Your Majesty's audience, but we didn't want to send for you until you completed your meeting."

"Specifically," the second dragon said curtly, as if she swallowed a cactus, "she requested, and I quote, 'a big warm hug.' SandWings really have no propriety, no matter their class."

The queen's breath hitched, and though she wanted to vehemently disagree, found herself unable to before her subjects. "Though you are not incorrect," she said, feeling as if she were chewing on every word, "we must demonstrate respect to our allies and their customs. Show Queen Blaze the same courtesy as you show me, or I shall have you punished."

"Yes, Your Majesty," the guard said with a shallow bow. "My apologies."

"But that is a surprising thing to hear from her. I only came upon the scene when returning from the desert," Glacier continued, sadness coloring her eyes. "We were fortunate that the assassin missed her vital artery by a hair. Any more, and we would have lost her."

"It is fortunate that you saved her, then," said the same guard. "We cannot lose the territory Queen Blaze has promised us. We will continue to protect her, Your Majesty."

Glacier opened her mouth, the words cutting deeper than she would have liked. "The territory, yes," she echoed, though a frown tugged at the corners of her lips. "I would like to have a moment with her."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

The two dragons opened the infirmary doors, allowing her passage inside. Before they closed the closed behind her, she heard a harsh comment along the lines of "walrus-breathed ice-sniffer" from the quieter guard, and couldn't help but chuckle only when she ensured she was out of earshot, when there was no more reason to maintain haughty, royal pretenses. She thought about the brief conversation with the guards, and guilt began to gnaw at her conscience. Had she visited the SandWing base earlier that day, she could have kept Blaze from heading outside.

Her talons clacked on the ground as she approached Blaze's bed. She gazed at the sleeping dragon, only her face and neck visible underneath the blanket drawn over her chest. The bandages wrapped around her wound still oozed red, but only faintly so. A tsunami of emotions filled the IceWing at once, so many that she sat down on her haunches. She looked around the room worriedly, ensuring that no one witnessed her lack of propriety.

Relief was the first thought. Relief at the fact that an innocent dragon was not murdered in her territory, relief that their plan for territorial growth was still intact, but most of all, relief that… Blaze wasn't dead. Glacier shuddered. She remembered the feelings of fear and anger far more clearly than she would have liked – wondering if she was dead, wondering how much of the continent she would burn down in response, wondering if Jerboa would be at all interested in attempting an animus resurrection.

The last thought was ugly enough to stem any more possibilities her active imagination could produce.

Then a quiet kind of despair crept into her mind. Even through the assassination attempt, she remembered what Six-Claws had told her earlier today… and these events only proved his words. Blaze was no more than a meal ticket, someone who she could manipulate into granting IceWings more territory. To anyone but her, that was her plan – a clever one, given how many advisors congratulated her on quickly recruiting the SandWing.

Was it worth keeping Blaze as an ally? No matter how much Glacier tried to teach her about politics or warfare or communication, the lessons slid right off. She was content with herself already, far more disposed to keeping her golden scales as pristine as her jewelry. Even if their alliance won the war, she would be the least equipped to deal with threats from… any tribe, let alone her own.

Six-Claws was concerned that she would install a puppet regime, but that didn't sound like a bad idea to her. Glacier thought as her brows furrowed. She could just allow Blaze to retake the throne and rule the SandWings through her.

She hated that the thought even crossed her mind. It sounded like a devious scheme the NightWings would hatch. The IceWings would be forever portrayed in Pyrrhia lore as sneaky, backstabbing barbarians.

They couldn't. They wouldn't.

And while she knew the weight of responsibility would flatten the SandWing, Glacier was convinced that with enough time and effort, she could coach her into being a respectable queen. That was one thing she would never do – betray her friend's bountiful, limitless faith in her.

She couldn't. She wouldn't.

… but in the bottom of her heart, the dragon knew that it was something that her advisors would try to convince her of. Though they had their pride as IceWings, such a move would guarantee their tribe health and prosperity for generations to come.

A small cough roused the queen from her meditation. The dragon before her rolled over, black eyes blearily blinking at her. "… Glacier?"

The IceWing learned long ago that restraining a smile around her was impossible. "Blaze," she said softly, as if her name was the most delicate thing in the world. "Yes, it's me."

The golden queen stretched, leaning back as a terrific yawn escaped her muzzle. "Where am I? What happened?"

"You're in the infirmary now. You fainted shortly after you were nearly assassinated." Queen Glacier did her best to keep fire out of her voice, but she felt like a SkyWing ready to breathe flames through her nostrils. "You're alright now."

Blaze blinked and touched her wound tenderly with a claw, wincing at the pain. "Assassinate? Me? Why, who would ever want to do that?"

Glacier's muzzle hung open as she processed the words one by one, anger only spilling into her heart after comprehending Blaze's ludicrous question. Her muzzle scrunched up, failing to fix her stormy expression. "Do you really not know?!" she exclaimed. "Need I remind you that you are at war with your sisters?"

"I know that!" the SandWing snapped back. "But a NightWing tried to kill me! Gosh, can you believe that? A NightWing! Which one of my sisters would hire a NightWing?"

The IceWing remained silent for a moment. She had a point – the NightWings did claim neutrality from the war. There was a chance that either Burn or Blister gained their favor, but it far too speculative right now to justify her burst of anger. Her claws wound over each other, feeling guilty for yelling at her friend.

But true to her name, Blaze was more than happy to give Glacier more fuel. "I don't think he was with the dragonets of destiny, though," she said, rubbing a claw with her chin. "They saved my life, you know! The SeaWing jumped in front of me to take one of the hits. We should find out who she is, maybe send her a shark. SeaWings like sharks, right?"

"Oh! Of course. I almost forgot about the dragonets," the IceWing spat out, her voice rising. "What on Pyrrhia were you doing out there with them? Why didn't you ask them for your audience inside the outpost?!"

"Because they told me they couldn't! And I reallllllllly wanted to meet them! You know the prophecy, right?"

Glacier's tail rattled underneath her. "I know what the prophecy says, Blaze! But that doesn't mean you should just follow them out there! What if they didn't choose you as the queen? What if they were working with Blister, and really did want to kill you?"

Blaze puffed out her chest, rising up in the bed. "They wouldn't want to! Do you think the dragonets would pick Burn or Blister? They're horrible dragons." She paused for a moment before beaming at Glacier. "They'll pick us! There's no other way! I'm sure they loved me after our chat. Except for the RainWing, hmph! A RainWing telling a queen how to rule… can you believe it?"

The IceWing's maw hung open, the density of Blaze's response concussing her. Yes, Blaze was correct – the continent was unsafe with either Burn or Blister as queen, but on the other hand… was Blaze correct because she understood the delicate politics of the situation, or just because she thought everybody liked her?

She knew the answer in her heart. It was maddening not because of how ridiculous Blaze was, but because Glacier couldn't see past it. She let out a frustrated sigh, looking away from the golden dragon. It was easier to be upset with her if she wasn't face-to-face with her soft, shimmering complexion. "You can't simply endanger yourself without thinking," the IceWing said finally, her shoulders slumping. "You're right that the dragonets would likely choose you over your sisters, but you did not have to risk anything to hear that. You could have taken at least a couple of guards with you."

"Oh, I couldn't have done that," Blaze said with a melodramatic huff. "You know how big and scary my guards are. It would have scared them. And they wouldn't have paid attention to me!"

"Even with your jewelry?" In her protest, the Sandwing's blanket had fallen away. Glacier stared at the necklaces adorning her neck, the golden tones complimenting the brilliant white-gold hue of her belly scales. She had an urge to reach forward to toy with one of the chains, but her regality prevented her from acting on such a juvenile thought. "For some reason, I doubt that," she said under her breath.

Glacier allowed herself to drink in Blaze's beauty, not even aware of her own fixation until the warmer dragon spoke again. "Is there something on my necklace, Glacier? I hope it wasn't mangled in the fight! I would never forgive that assassin if he broke my necklace."

"He tried to kill you," she said pointedly.

"Oh! Well, as long as the cut doesn't scar, I think I can forgive him now that I'm not mad. Revenge is an ugly look – that's why Burn wears it all the time!" she said with a grin. "Plus, the NightWing was kind of cute… even though you should still have him killed. Definitely killed."

The IceWing sat silently before the bed as her friend laughed, annoyance bubbling from within her. A NightWing? Cute? Did Blaze really have eyes for NightWings? Especially one that had tried to kill her? Was that really her competition?

There was no way the NightWing tribe would be better allies than the IceWings, she told herself firmly, even if they were shadowy and mysterious and so handsome that they turned heads wherever they went. The SandWings would surely remain allied with the IceWings. That much was certain.

"I just want to be sure no harm comes to you," Glacier said, doing her best to ignore the unpleasant thoughts blossoming in her head. "If you needlessly put yourself in harm's way, then I cannot protect you."

Blaze blinked at her, her shiny midnight eyes meeting her own. "But I thought I was doing the right thing. I don't know if the dragonets would have wanted to meet you."

"I-" Glacier's wings fluttered, indignation worming its way in her voice. "What do you mean, they wouldn't have wanted to meet me? What would give you that impression?"

It was clear from Blaze's quizzical expression that she thought Glacier knew the answer herself. "Ooh, you're starting to sound like me! Well, um… you're very strict, you know?" she said. "Everybody in the kingdom knows that you're like, cold and mean and bossy. It feels like I'm talking to Mom sometimes when I talk to you."

Though Blaze's words were simple, the admission was enough to shock Glacier out of sitting. Her claws clacked the floor sharply as she stood up, whipping her head around at her guest. "I beg your unbelievable pardon? Are you comparing me to Queen Oasis? Your mother?"

"But you're not like that all the time!" blurted the injured SandWing. "Most of the time, you're very nice! Like the time you protected me from that SkyWing. Or promised to protect me from my sisters. They were very murder-y, but you're different, Glacier. Besides, I thought you already knew!"

"Knew what? That I was – how did you say it? Cold? Mean? Bossy?" She let out a strangled growl as she looked away from the shocked SandWing. Had anyone else said that to her, she wouldn't have given them the time of day, but the fact that it was Blaze who laid that truth before her like a dead fish destroyed her. "I did not choose to be like this. I have one kingdom to run and two tribes to lead! If only you had the mettle to lead your forces," Glacier said with a scowl, "then you would at least understand why I am the way I am."

She turned back to glare at Blaze, who had been mollified into silence. The traitorous thought of the hug her friend requested ran through Glacier's head, and sudden sorrow filled her heart. It was even more difficult to weather the sheer amount of hurt written on the SandWing's face.

But she found the wherewithal to crush those feelings as if they were tiny little snowflakes. She didn't know if it was the exhaustion poisoning her body or the aching in her heart, but she had little more patience for the airheaded SandWing this night. It was far too late and far too painful to talk to someone who thought so negatively of her.

"Good night, Queen Blaze," the dragon said coldly, not even sparing her another glance before she turned away. Glacier walked to the entrance of the room and thrust open the doors so hard that she nearly ripped them off their hinges. She failed to miss the stunned expressions of the IceWing guards, knowing they must have heard every word of her outburst. They were better trained than to gossip right in front of her Majesty, but she knew that they would talk until dawn about her outburst.

Glacier was going to pay for this tomorrow. Who knew an IceWing could get so worked up about being called bossy? she imagined one of them saying snidely. Bossiness was a way of life for all IceWings, especially a queen. Being called bossy may as well have been a badge of honor.

But to Blaze it wasn't, and that's what mattered to Glacier the most.

Both anger and melancholy congested her mind as she stalked through the hallway, a scowl painted on her muzzle. Before, sleep had been a distant goal, but now it felt far more like a fantasy.