The Queens of Remnant - Chapter 31 (Patreon)
Content
Being stabbed didn’t hurt as much as most people thought. As long as the blade didn’t go too deep - which it hadn’t - and missed any organs - which it did - it was really just a deep cut that bled a lot and needed a few stitches. Blake tried explaining that to Yang, but Yang still doted on her like she’d been on the verge of death. She hadn’t been close to dying. She hadn’t even been scared that she might die.
She’d been terrified for Yang. The moment she saw the murderous look in that assassin’s eyes - the same look she’d seen in Adam’s leading up to any of his strings of violence - she knew his intentions. Thankfully, Yang was fine. And Blake was fine. At least, she was until she learned Yang’s plans for the day.
“Yang, you’re in no shape to go hunting,” she whispered while following Yang into the entryway.
“I know. But I can’t let them know that.”
“So you’ll kill yourself trying to keep this up?” Before they reached the palace doors, Blake grabbed Yang’s arm and turned her around. “You can’t do this. Tell them you don’t want to go, or you don’t have time - anything! You have thousands of reasons to be too busy for this.”
“You don’t understand.” When Blake huffed, Yang quickly searched for eavesdroppers before leaning closer and lowering her voice. “Cecelia can feel my spark, but she thinks I need to blow off some steam. I need her to keep thinking that. Because if she gets suspicious and figures out what’s going on…”
After trailing off, Yang shook her head and squared her shoulders.
“I need to prove I’m still strong, or she’ll decide I’m too weak to fight back.”
So many responses flitted through Blake’s mind - anger, scorn, and disbelief that this was even being considered - but the determination in Yang’s eyes prevented her from voicing them.
“You need Ruby,” she breathed out, finally grasping the frailty of Vale’s leadership without their second queen.
“Ruby’s not here. And until she’s back…” Yang’s eyes briefly glassed over before she shook her head. “I have to make sure she has something to come back to.”
“Then I’m coming with you.”
Yang’s brow rose, but Blake nodded. She’d never been more certain of something in her life. If Yang had to go on this ill-advised trip after she hardly found the strength to get out of bed that morning, then Blake was going too.
“But your side…”
Yang’s gaze flitted to Blake’s stomach, where a fresh bandage covered a set of stitches, but Blake shook her head.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Blake -”
“Yang,” she replied with even more emphasis. “If you think I’m letting you walk out of this palace without me, you’re sorely mistaken.”
“You were stabbed.”
Voice soft and calm, Yang stepped closer and gently rested her warm hand on Blake’s side. The tender, caring look in her eyes almost convinced Blake to give in to the unspoken plea. Almost.
“And you’re sick,” she replied, touching the back of her hand to Yang’s forehead. It had burned since they woke up this morning and hadn’t gotten better since. “If you’re going, I’m going with you. That’s final.”
Yang could order her to stay, but she wouldn’t listen. The only way Yang left without her was by physically preventing her from following - something Yang would never do. Those realizations filtered through Yang’s lilac eyes in quick succession. In moments like these, Blake often didn’t know what to expect. How would Yang react to being openly disobeyed?
When Yang leaned in and kissed her, she had her answer. She melted into the feeling as easily as all the other kisses they’d shared, embracing the intimacy and tenderness coming along with it. Yang put so much of herself into each kiss that it felt like another form of communication. This one - soft, lingering, grateful, worried, and - just as Blake was about to earnestly return the gesture - interrupted.
“Yang.”
The clipped voice drew their attention to the doors, where an extremely surly Cecelia motioned outside.
“Ready?”
Considering Yang had already informed the palace of her plans, much to Blake’s disapproval, she nodded and reached for Blake’s hand.
“Yeah. Blake’s coming with.”
Blake mustered a small smile at Yang’s acquiescence, but Cecelia rolled her eyes and mumbled, “Of course she is…” while stalking outside. Blake rolled her eyes in return, but she said nothing while she and Yang followed into the plaza. For all appearances, the sprawling space hummed as usual. Today, however, the number of Elites had increased, and their rigid postures tightened when they spotted Yang.
“They’re uptight today...” Yang muttered as they headed toward the massive staircase leading down to Vale.
Blake hummed at the observation but didn’t protest, not even when one of the guards gently but firmly moved a visitor out of their path. The palace security understood that they’d let their guard down - a mistake for which Yang nearly paid the ultimate price - and quickly corrected their behavior. Blake appreciated the necessary response but still remained on heightened alert for possible danger. If Atlas sent one assassin, they could have sent another. They could have sent dozens, for all she knew.
Thankfully, they reached the staircase without any incident. From there, they descended the steps to a caravan of three carriages, plenty of horses, mercenaries, and a pair of armored firebeasts. The front and rear carriages were standard transports suited for carrying as many troops as possible. The middle carriage, tethered to two beautiful firebeasts and extravagant in every way, was clearly intended for Yang.
Black-armored soldiers loitered everywhere. Leaning against the carriages, sitting at the bottom of the steps - everywhere Blake looked, she found more of Cecelia’s henchmen. From all appearances, it seemed like at least two dozen were making the trip, and were excited to do so.
“No Elites?” she asked about the conspicuous absence of golden-armored guards.
“Why would we need them?” Cecelia butted in, appearing on Yang’s other side and sending Blake a disdainful look. “Besides, can’t you keep her safe?”
Blake scowled at the thinly veiled swipe, but Cecelia just smirked before flipping her hair over her shoulder and flitting away.
“I really don’t like her…” Blake muttered while Cecelia hopped onto the step of the lead carriage and whistled for her men to get ready. Outside conversations instantly stopped as they sprang to their feet and hurried to fulfill unspoken instructions.
“Come on, let’s get inside,” Yang whispered, gently nudging Blake to the center carriage while everyone else hopped onto their horses or filed into the other two vehicles. One of the unlucky mercenaries approached the two firebeasts, who snapped their fearsome jaws at him while he clambered up to take their reins.
Blake would rather spend all day trading barbs with Cecelia than subject Yang to their real plans. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option. So, rather than put up a fight, she sighed and followed Yang into the carriage. In terms of opulence, the interior reminded her of the time she’d spent with Weiss traveling from the Badlands to Vale. Gold and red accents took the place of silver though, and Yang took Weiss’ place on one of the comfortable full-length sofas. Rather than sit across the cabin as she had on that fateful day, she sat beside Yang.
Plentiful supplies suggested a long journey, but the gold suit of armor hanging near the door illuminated their ultimate objective. This wasn’t a relaxing visit to the outskirts. They were headed toward the last-known location of a monster.
“Just us?” she asked when the carriage spurred into motion.
“I’m sure Cecelia would butt in if you weren’t around, but apparently she can take a hint.”
Blake scowled at the idea of Cecelia being here, alone, with Yang. It didn’t take a genius to know that Cecelia would do everything in her power to draw Yang’s attention. And in such cramped quarters...
The steadily rising heat forced Blake’s thoughts back to more important matters, but Yang didn’t say anything while the palace gates fell behind. The streets of Vale soon joined them, but only when Blake saw Vale’s towering walls did she realize that she had no idea where they were going or what she’d gotten herself into. She’d never been beyond Vale before, but she’d heard stories of the beasts lurking in the wilderness - giant monsters invincible to all but the most powerful hunters. If Yang’s spark was as powerful as her position suggested, she probably had little problem with them before. But now…
Blake glanced over and gained little confidence from Yang’s furrowed brow.
“It’ll be ok,” she said even though she had no way of knowing whether or not that was true. When she patted Yang’s leg, however, Yang sighed and shook her head.
“I haven’t hunted in a long time…”
Buried in that response was the reason why Yang hadn’t hunted in a long time, and the reason she was so nervous about doing it now. Her spark was misbehaving as they spoke, creating small spikes of heat in addition to the ever-present, near-oppressive warmth rising from her skin. Her spark was no longer her own - today, she needed it to be. Somehow, she had to convince it to cooperate.
Determined to be supportive, Blake held Yang’s hand and leaned against Yang’s shoulder. Perspiration broke out along her brow almost immediately, but she didn’t move away. Sitting across the cabin would be more comfortable but, in the absence of words, physical assurance was all she could offer.
When Yang squeezed her hand, she sighed and stared out the window. As civilization fell further and further behind, she marveled at the endless, desolate wilderness. Vale marked the last thriving metropolis before massive expanses of arid landscape unlike anything she had seen before. Trees became fewer and farther between. The air grew hotter and drier than the typically hot, dry days in Vale. Soil eventually disappeared altogether, replaced by nothing but sand, sand, and more sand.
She glanced at Yang every so often, but Yang just stared out the window, seemingly lost in thought. Absent reading her mind, her nerves were evident through the dampening of her palm and deepening furrow of her brow.
If Yang was nervous, Blake had every reason to be extremely worried. That feeling increased exponentially when the carriage eventually stopped. She hardly looked out at the sandy, deserted landscape before jumping when several loud knocks hit the door.
“We’re here,” Cecelia called out while sounds of motion filtered from outside. The other mercenaries were closer now, their voices low but excited as they prepared for the impending battle. Panic joined Blake’s concern when Yang sighed and slid the window shut.
“You can still back out,” Blake urged while Yang grabbed the armor.
Right now, Blake didn’t care if Cecelia found out about the Phage - they could deal with those repercussions later. Throwing Yang out there against who-knew-what and asking her to defend herself - not just defend herself, but to fight - couldn’t end well. Yang needed to protect herself, and the only way to do that was by not going out there at all. But she just shook her head and snapped a gauntlet around her wrist.
“I won’t let her ruin everything we’ve been working on.”
After pulling a pair of golden greaves and sturdy boots into place, Yang set her hands on her legs and sighed. That effort alone had drained whatever energy she’d saved on the way out here, but her resolute expression said that she wouldn’t listen to reason.
“Yang…” Blake tried one last time, but that was all she got out before Yang leaned over and set a hand on her thigh.
“Please trust me.”
Any argument instantly evaporated. Blake trusted Yang more than anything, as everything leading up to this moment proved. So, even though she didn’t think this was a good idea, she brushed her fingers across Yang’s cheek and nodded.
Relief passed through Yang’s eyes, but she still took a deep breath before opening the door and stepping outside. Blake braced herself for what was to come before following, but she instantly stepped back when a wall of heat greeted her. Unlike Yang’s spark, which burned like a fire edging too close - sometimes much too close - this heat permeated every breath of air, burning its way through her lungs. There was no escaping it; there was only tolerating it.
Yang’s armor must be unbearably hot and stifling in this heat, but she looked unbothered by the sun baking everything it touched. Either the Phage had prepared her for this environment or she was just that good at pretending - Blake didn’t know. Fortunately, the overwhelming heat provided a relief of sorts - when everything felt so hot, it was impossible to tell what was Yang’s spark and what was just the weather.
The mercenaries were similarly nonplussed by the temperature, though perspiration glistened on their brows as they checked their armor and weapons. The horses stood in the patch of shade offered by carriages while the firebeasts basked in the sunlight, eyes closed and heads tilted toward the sun.
While following Yang to Cecelia and her men, Blake discovered that the temperature wasn’t the only thing to marvel at - they had stopped at the crest of an enormous sand dune. Standing at its edge, they looked down into a giant bowl of even more sand. Skeletons of trees stood here and there, as if this place once supported life, but nothing suggested a monster lived here. It was just...sand, sun, and oppressive heat.
At least, that was all she saw. The excited murmurs amongst Cecelia’s men suggested she’d missed something.
“Where is it?” she whispered to Yang while scanning the dunes again.
“Right there.”
Yang pointed at what looked like just another mountain of sand. When Blake looked closely, however, she could barely make out the edges of something. Something huge.
“Told you it was a good one,” Cecelia boasted from Yang’s other side. The hungry gleam in her eyes combined with the unknown creature lurking in the distance sent a chill down Blake’s spine. Suddenly, the situation became very real. Whatever that thing was, it would be doing its best to kill them just minutes from now. And Blake didn’t even know what it really looked like.
“Alright, boys.”
When Cecelia waved forward, her men whooped and hollered and raced down the dune. The commotion roused the beast from its slumber, and Blake watched in horror as the entire dune started moving. A thundering, angry groaning noise filled the air as the dreader shook itself awake, spraying waves of sand everywhere, and her stomach dropped when she realized just how big ‘big’ was.
It dwarfed any creature she’d ever seen. It was so massive that she could only think to compare it to Vale’s palace. The entire palace. Most of its length consisted of a thick, tapering tail with spiny plates jutting out from the top. Its four legs were short and crouched, much like a lizard’s, but its giant, tooth-filled jaws sent fear down her spine. Another roar rattled the air as the dreader locked onto the mercenaries racing toward it. It moved with a strange shifting motion that looked like a billion grains of sand merging and separating rather than any solid form.
Now, Blake understood the name - this creature instilled a deep, unshakable dread in her bones. Its menacing appearance didn’t intimidate the mercenaries though. Showing no hesitation, they raced at the giant and quickly stirred it into a fervor. Using their sparks, they whizzed back and forth in front of it, daring it to lash out. When it did, it did so with astonishing quickness that took everyone by surprise - most of all, the unfortunate windwalker who didn’t dash out of the way in time. There was no shout or scream or cry of pain. He just...disappeared, armor and all.
“God dammit…” Cecelia muttered under her breath while every single one of her blades darted out of their sheaths.
“You didn’t bring any fire,” Yang suddenly said, her gaze never leaving the fight underway.
“That’s what we have you for.”
Blake bristled when Cecelia winked and patted Yang’s shoulder and scowled when Cecelia smirked at her.
“I understand if you want to stay here. Wouldn’t want that pretty face to get scratched.”
Before Blake responded, Cecelia raced toward the monster without an ounce of fear. When Blake stepped forward to follow, determined to prove Cecelia wrong, Yang’s arm shot out to stop her.
“You can’t go down there.”
“What?” Blake glanced at the massive battle taking place before shaking her head at Yang’s sudden resistance. “Why not?”
“If you’ve never fought a dreader before, now’s not the time to start.”
“I can handle myself.”
“Not with Cecelia,” Yang replied more forcefully. “I don’t trust her. She’ll lead that thing into you any chance she gets.”
“Then I’ll make sure she doesn’t get the chance.” When Yang opened her mouth to argue, Blake set a hand on her arm to stop her. “I didn’t come all the way out here to watch. But I know what she’ll try to do; I’ll be careful.”
Blake couldn’t offer more assurance than that while the sounds of battle made her increasingly anxious. If returning to Vale wasn’t an option, she wanted to get down there and end this as fast as possible.
“How do you kill it?” she asked, glancing over when Yang sighed and let her shoulders slouch.
“You have to use fire...”
Suddenly grasping Yang’s reticence, Blake shook her head.
“You can’t. There has to be another way.”
“There isn’t.”
“But...it’s huge. To take it down, you’d have to...”
Blake stopped talking when she saw the fear in Yang’s eyes. Yang didn’t need anyone to point out the obvious. She knew how bad this was. Yet they were still here...because she had something to prove and could think of no other way to prove it.
“If I don’t make it out of this…”
“No,” Blake interrupted, fighting back tears at the idea.
“Blake -”
Blake cut off that train of thought by grabbing the front of Yang’s armor and pulling her into a kiss. In the few seconds they had left, she tried to communicate how much she didn’t want to do this but how willingly she would do it to keep Yang safe. Once their lips separated, she stayed close and stared into Yang’s eyes.
“You’re not leaving me today.”
Before Yang said anything, Blake raced toward the battle taking place. Her still-healing side protested the sudden activity, but she silenced it by hardening that patch of skin as much as possible. Hopefully, the wound wouldn’t split open. Even if it did, that was the least of her concerns.
The windwalkers had little difficulty maneuvering through the desert since their feet hardly touched the ground before taking off again, but she struggled to make headway with the sand shifting underfoot. She solved that problem by creating stepping stones over the sand so that she could sprint uninhibited toward the dreader. The closer she drew to the raging battle, the more she questioned her decision. She’d been forced into battle many times before - against raiders, Atlesian Knights, and Valerian Elites alike - but she’d never faced a foe like this.
But Yang needed her help, and she wouldn’t turn her back on Yang’s time of need. If she could weaken the beast, maybe Yang could easily finish the job. The only question was...how? Cecelia and her men were pestering the creature, using their wind to flash this way and that before attacking, but the gashes left by their blades quickly sealed - the sand reforming as if it had never broken apart. If they were dealing any damage, it seemed minimal. If anything, they were only making it angrier.
Blake shielded her eyes when the dreader abruptly spun around, pelting her in a hurricane of sand. She hardly regained her bearings before ducking as its long tail whipped through the air, narrowly missing her head. One of the windwalkers wasn’t so fortunate - that enormous tail hit him squarely in the ribs and sent him flying across the desert like a ragdoll.
Adrenaline pounding now, she tracked the monster’s movements, trying to figure out how to stun it or slow it down. Anticipating its next step, she dragged a massive amount of earth from beneath the sand and locked it around its front leg. The restraint hardly caused a pause - the goliath easily broke free and lunged at its nearest foe.
Giant, sandy teeth snapped on air as the mercenary dashed out of the way just in time. Unperturbed by the near brush with death, he whooped and hollered to keep the beast’s attention, turning the sand monster around while the other windwalkers continued their assault.
Determined to help, Blake formed a sharp, stone spear in one hand and heaved it at the monster’s head. Rather than pierce skin or flesh, however, it passed through the particles of sand as if swallowed whole. Before she could try again, someone slammed into her side, nearly knocking her right off her feet.
“Out of the way,” the mercenary growled, giving her a shove before disappearing like a gust of wind.
A loud whistle cut through the dry desert air, and the mercenaries suddenly fell back before attacking in near unison. The dreader roared and thrashed toward them. Again, its fearsome jaws snapped through the air, and it would have connected had Cecelia not shoved one of her men out of the way just in time. He tumbled across the sand before regaining his feet and taking off like the wind, leaving Cecelia facing the monster alone.
Undeterred, Cecelia passed one of her knives between her hands and waited for the creature to attack. When it did - its head shooting forward with frightening speed - she seamlessly leaped into the air, narrowly escaping the death sentence beneath her, and plunged her blade into the top of its snout. It snarled and threw its head back trying to dislodge her, but she held onto her blade while sliding down its back, sending her other knives stabbing in and out of it all along the way.
By the time her feet touched the ground, the creature had spun after her, intent to pursue. That was when she did exactly as Yang expected: flew straight at Blake with the terrifying beast right on her trail. The other windwalkers slashed and hacked at the monster while it passed, but nothing distracted it from Cecelia.
“Incoming,” she teased while flashing by, leaving Blake staring straight into the jaws of a monster.
Without the element of speed to help her escape, she did the only thing she could think of: unleashed every ounce of her spark to raise a towering wall of earth between her and certain death. She expected the dreader to stop, or dodge, or at least slam into the wall and slow down. Instead, she watched in horror as it seamlessly split in two, flowing around her barricade before melding back together without slowing down. Its jaws opened - a cyclone of sand swirling around a dark, ominous void - and she braced for impact.
A fireball slammed into the dreader’s head just before it happened, the force of the blow shoving its mouth to the side just enough for her to narrowly escape its clutches. Yang appeared beside her seconds later, wrapping an arm around her waist and dragging her out of harm’s way.
“Stay back,” Yang instructed, leaving Blake further from the battleground before calmly returning to the fray. No hint of fear could be found in her expression or posture as the giant monster pawed at the flames on its snout and let out a bone-chilling roar. She remained measured and unflinching even when its gaze locked onto her.
The mercenaries still pestered it, but it merely snapped at them out of annoyance while keeping Yang in its sights. It drew back its head, preparing to strike, but she hardly reacted. She stood there, heels sinking into the sand, and stared down her foe.
“Yang!” Blake shouted when the monster lunged forward.
Just before reaching Yang, it reared back and roared in anger when a wall of flames sprang up in its face. Cecelia and her men capitalized on the opportunity, throwing themselves at the beast with renewed ferocity. While they agitated it further - its tail whipping every which way, sending showers of sand everywhere - Blake raced towards Yang. Before Blake could reach her, however, flames erupted from the sand in between them.
“Yang!” she called out again, panic swelling in her chest. She knew what Yang was doing, trying to keep her safe, but she also knew that Yang shouldn’t use her spark like this. Yang knew it, too - the pain in her eyes said as much.
“You need to stay back,” she repeated before walking toward the dreader. Fire engulfed her hands now, covering everything up to her elbows as her hair took on an unnaturally bright hue. A giant, flaming sword appeared in one hand, dwarfing anything the mercenaries carried yet looking easy for her to wield.
It must hurt - Blake knew it must hurt - but she slowly and confidently approached the thrashing monster. She wanted to face death alone, but Blake wouldn’t let her. She looked at the wall of fire instead, focused her spark upon herself - hardening her skin to the point of solid rock - and leapt through the flames.
A trail of fire had sprung up in Yang’s wake, and Blake watched in both horror and awe as Cecelia dragged one of her blades through the flames before attacking the dreader with renewed vigor. Her men quickly did the same, using Yang’s element to inflict deep, silvery gashes that didn’t heal.
If Cecelia’s strategy was to provoke the dreader into a manic frenzy, it was working. The monster lashed out at anything that moved, nearly catching several of the mercenaries out of position. Its tail did most of the damage, slamming into several of the men and sending them crashing into the sand. Some of them regained their feet and rejoined the fight. Others were slower, if they got up at all.
Blake narrowly avoided being pummeled by that gargantuan tail while sprinting to Yang’s side. Sand sprayed in her face, the ground shifted and shook under her feet, the windwalkers raced past, calling out instructions or shouting for the creature’s attention. Through the madness, Yang approached the battle, eyes forward, hands aflame, posture certain.
“Yang, wait!”
Blake didn’t know what Yang planned to do, but Blake had to stop her. The dreader was still too strong, too powerful - they needed to weaken it before Yang tried to kill it.
Before Blake could get close enough though, the desert under the dreader’s feet burst into flames. The creature roared and thrashed wildly to one side only for the flames to leap higher, blocking any escape. The temperature shot up as the fire grew exponentially hotter. A persistent tinkling sound joined the angry roars and the crackling flames as the sand melted into shards of instantly broken glass.
Blake couldn’t move any closer, already using her spark to protect herself from serious burns. Cecelia and her men were also falling back, forced away by an inferno beyond anyone’s control. Within seconds, Blake could do nothing but stare while flames shot so high into the sky that they might have reached the sun. She couldn’t see Yang anymore - she couldn’t even see the dreader. The wall of fire consumed every part of the desolate landscape, and it grew larger still.
Blake shielded her eyes when the flames became too bright to look at. A scorching wave of heat burst across the desert moments later, pelting her with small, superheated granules of sand that stung every bit of skin they touched. Once that passed, however, everything fell silent.
The hunters whooped and hollered at that grand finale, but Blake lowered her arm and desperately searched for Yang. The dreader had disappeared, returned to the sand from which it had come, but Yang...
Yang knelt on one knee where their mighty foe once stood. Relieved beyond measure, Blake raced over as fast as her legs would carry her. She was pretty fast, but Cecelia beat her to Yang’s side.
“You alright?” Cecelia asked, pulling Yang to her feet. When Yang immediately swayed, Blake quickly grabbed her arm to steady her. Cecelia scowled at the gesture before turning back to Yang. “You didn’t have to go supernova on him.”
“I know. I was just...trying to be impressive.” That was a weak excuse, but Yang turned to Blake and mustered a smile. “Was it?”
“Very.” Ignoring Cecelia’s scowl, Blake patted Yang’s shoulder. Yang’s skin burned to the touch while heat rolled off of her in uncontrollable waves. Her eyes though - their soft purple had taken on a red hue, filled with pain and begging Blake for help.
“But it’s really hot out here,” Blake added. “Can we head back?”
“Couldn’t…agree more. What do you think, Cecelia? Head back?”
Cecelia ground her jaw back and forth but, eventually, nodded.
“Sure. Since you went and tapped out your spark, guess we can’t go after another.”
Blake earned another glare, as if that was somehow her fault, before Cecelia whistled and motioned her men back to their only means of returning to Vale. While Cecelia strode ahead, swinging her hips as she walked, Blake glowered after her.
“Blake.”
Yang’s feeble whisper snapped Blake out of that moment. The dreader might be gone, but their challenge wasn’t over yet - they had to trudge back up the towering sand dune first. Cecelia and her men made their way up without issue, but Yang could hardly even stand let alone walk up a steep hill of shifting sand.
“Hold on. I can help.”
After making sure Cecelia wasn’t paying attention, Blake focused on Yang’s armor. Underneath that outer layer, she used her spark to form a thin lining of solid rock. Yang’s eyes widened at the sensation, but she turned to Blake before freaking out. Blake nodded while hugging the rock close to Yang’s skin, clutching tightly enough that she could take control. If she lifted the rock, Yang’s feet lifted. As long as Yang didn’t fight against her, she could figuratively carry Yang back to the carriage without anyone noticing.
Yang was a long way from fighting the assistance. Instead, she relaxed and let Blake take care of everything. As far as Yang was concerned, she hardly needed to move at all. It took several steps for Blake to figure out how to make it look natural - she’d never helped someone walk before - but she quickly got the hang of it.
“Are you alright?” she whispered as they made their way up the sand dune together.
“Trying to be…”
Yang’s spark still hadn’t faded. Its frequent bursts of heat suggested it didn’t want to go away at all, and must be excruciating to bear.
“Your side…” Yang murmured before long. “Are you ok?”
“It’s fine,” Blake assured her. The injury protested the recent activity, but a glance confirmed the stitches hadn’t torn - one small piece of positive news for this unfortunate day. “We’re almost there,” she added in a whisper, slightly breathless as she drained her spark more than she had in some time.
When they finally reached the top of the dune, their hideaway now in sight, she nearly sighed in relief. That relief disappeared when one of the mercenaries walked over and extended his hand to Yang.
“Your Majesty. It was an honor.”
Blake wanted Yang to ignore him, but they just battled a giant monster together - of course celebration and revelry would follow. Skipping the congratulations would probably be as conspicuous as collapsing in the sand right now - neither of which Yang would want to do. She smiled and, after glancing at Blake, shook his hand.
“Same to you.” Noticing the rest of the men watching her now, she addressed them as a group. “All of you fought well out there. Wasn’t expecting such a big one but phew - we took care of business.”
While they smiled and murmured their agreements, and one of them lifted his shirt to reveal a gnarly bruise crossing his ribs, Blake stood back and watched. They wanted to show off their battle wounds and exchange close-call stories with the Queen of Vale, who took part to the best of her ability.
Under ordinary circumstances, Blake imagined Yang willingly sitting around and reveling for hours. Under these circumstances, Blake had no problem giving them a few minutes before butting in and insisting they head back. She didn’t care if they thought she was a killjoy - Yang’s health mattered most. Just before those few minutes ended, however, Cecelia sidled over to her side.
“You know...I don’t know what she sees in you.”
Blake’s jaw clenched, knowing that she should ignore the comment. Instead, she turned to engage.
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t know what she sees in you,” Cecelia repeated. After making a show of returning her blade to its sheath, she smiled. “I mean, you’re trash from the Badlands. You can hardly fight - you’re basically just a damsel in distress. But maybe that’s what she’s into right now.”
Blake knew that Yang didn’t consider her a damsel in distress, but she still bristled at the insinuation.
“You don’t know me.”
“Maybe I don’t.” After glancing over to make sure Yang wasn’t paying attention, Cecelia stepped closer and lowered her voice. “But I’ve seen her go through a dozen girls just like you. Eventually, they all leave in tears.”
“Must be fun watching her choose everyone but you,” Blake retorted, holding her ground as Cecelia’s eyes flashed.
“You really think you’re what she’s looking for?” Cecelia sneered before jabbing a finger toward the battlegrounds. “That’s what she’s looking for. And who better to give her that than me?”
Scowling now, Blake decided that Cecelia was her least favorite person in the world. Her smirk, her confidence, her self-righteous certainty that she knew Yang better than anyone…all combined with a massive chip on her shoulder because Blake had something she didn’t.
“Maybe you don’t know her as well as you think,” Blake quipped before walking away. She heard Cecelia scoff behind her, the sound irritating her further as she rejoined Yang and gently nudged her side. “We should get going,” she said before nodding to their ride home.
“Ah, you’re right.” Yang smiled at her before turning back to Cecelia’s well-trained soldiers. “Can’t stay away for too long, I guess,” she added before giving them a genial wave.
Her smile fell the moment she turned away, and she flinched as Blake hurried them to the carriage. Blake prodded her up the steps first before following. Feeling eyes boring into her back, however, Blake glanced over one shoulder before ducking inside. Catching Cecelia’s watchful gaze, she scowled and shut the door.
She knew that Cecelia was trying to get under her skin, trying to make her jealous, suspicious, and insecure about Yang’s feelings. It worked better than she cared to admit. As soon as she saw Yang though - shoulders slumped, head bowed forward, exhausted in every sense of the word - Cecelia’s comments ceased to matter.
“You need to rest,” she whispered, hurrying over to Yang’s side.
“I think you’re right...” Yang murmured while Blake quickly removed her armor. Underneath, her skin burned so hot that Blake called upon her spark yet again. Part of her felt guilty that she had to protect herself just to touch Yang, but the rational side of her knew that she had to keep herself safe to better help Yang going forward. Fortunately, Yang didn’t notice. Or, if she did, she didn’t protest. Instead, she sighed as the last piece of armor fell away.
“Better?” Blake asked while helping Yang lay down on the sofa.
“A little. Still...burns everywhere...”
Yang wasn’t exaggerating. Every inch of her skin burned to the touch, and heat radiated from her like a giant, unquenchable furnace.
“Yeah, you’re...really hot,” Blake joked, brushing Yang’s hair out of her eyes.
“At least I still have that going for me…” Yang said before chuckling to herself. The soft, happy sound eased some of Blake’s worries, as did the way Yang reached for her hand.
Even after the battle with the dreader, where Blake had proven as useful as a new recruit thrown onto the front lines, Yang wanted her company. And, as was so often the case, Yang desperately wanted physical affection.
Blake was more than willing to give it, even though Yang’s spark fought against her own. She felt too horrible to do otherwise, especially when the carriage lurched into motion and Yang visibly flinched. They were finally on their way back to the palace though, where Yang could hide in her chambers until she recovered from this ill-advised outing.
And Blake would...she didn’t know what she would do. She would check on Winter. She would check in with Sun. All of those would come later though. Right now, she was just relieved that Yang survived the hunt at all. Though from Yang’s current state, the effort had taken a serious toll. Hopefully, she recovered. That was all Blake could wish for right now.
“So...” Yang whispered after several minutes passed. She looked and sounded nearly too tired to keep her eyes open, but she still mustered a smile. “What’d you think?”
“It was…” So many words jumped into Blake’s mind when recalling the battle she just witnessed. Spectacular. Thrilling. Impressive. “It was something else,” she settled upon.
“‘Something else?’” Yang repeated before laughing. “I just blew more of my spark than I have in a year, and it was only ‘something else?’”
Smiling as she laid down beside Yang, trying to ignore the uncomfortable waves of heat, Blake decided that Yang deserved the ego boost right about now.
“You’re incredible. Even though you shouldn’t have been out here at all, I think you proved you’re still plenty powerful if needed.”
“I like being incredible,” Yang answered with another soft laugh. “But hopefully no one else needs me anytime soon…”
Blake hummed and brushed a hand through Yang’s hair as they drifted into silence. It didn’t take much to imagine what Yang was like before the Phage. If today was any indication, her power was boundless. She would have been a force to reckon with in any battle. She was worthy of her throne. Her strength was probably how she’d survived for so long, but the Phage would eventually prevail. It always did.
Then there was Cecelia, who was as skilled and as vicious a fighter as Blake was led to believe. What she lacked in spark, she made up for with pure, unadulterated chaos. She was fearless, bordering on reckless, and her men obeyed her with unflinching loyalty.
“Yang?”
“Yeah?”
“Cecelia…”
Trailing off, Blake frowned and tried to figure out exactly what was bothering her.
“What about her?”
When Yang’s eyes blinked open, Blake felt guilty for keeping the tired queen from her slumber. But Yang didn’t seem bothered by the disturbance. If anything, she was concerned, likely wondering what Cecelia did now.
“She doesn’t call you ‘Your Majesty,’” Blake pointed out.
“Because I’m not her ruler. No one is.”
“I see…”
Something about it still bothered Blake. When Yang rolled onto her side - her undershirt lifting just enough to reveal the smooth skin underneath - Blake understood what it was. It was petty and trivial. It was also none of her business, but now she had to know.
“Have the two of you ever…?”
When Yang’s eyes snapped to hers, Blake nearly lost the courage to finish the question. She didn’t know how she would handle the answer.
“You know…” she mumbled, staring at the cushion beneath them. She only looked up when Yang started laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
“Sorry, nothing.” Yang tried to force a straight face but smiled almost immediately. “You’ve asked me that before - you didn’t care about the answer then.”
“When…?” Blake began only to stop when she remembered that moment. They’d hardly known each other then, and she was still under the impression that Yang was a serial womanizer. Cecelia’s presence only confirmed as much. “Well...things have changed.”
“They have.” After squeezing Blake’s hand, Yang leaned forward and kissed her. “And no - never. Not that she hasn’t tried.”
No wonder Cecelia was jealous. Blake had something she’d never had, and never would. That ultimate victory made Blake more smug than she would admit, but she couldn’t help the smile that slipped onto her lips. When Yang’s gaze flitted away, however, curiosity replaced her self-satisfaction.
“What is it?”
“It’s…” After taking a deep breath, Yang finally met Blake’s gaze. “There’s something I haven’t told you.”
Blake’s heart thudded at the sentence. Considering the topic, she wouldn’t like whatever this ‘something’ was.
“Ok…”
When Yang pushed herself into a sitting position, groaning at the effort, Blake leaned back and tried to read her expression. She looked like she wished she’d never brought it up. Now that she had, however, she only briefly turned away before meeting Blake’s eyes.
“She wouldn’t fight for Vale unless I promised her something.”
“Promised her what?”
Regret and apology joined the heat rolling off of Yang, but she didn’t shy away from Blake’s gaze.
“The reason she hates you so much…is because you’re getting your fingerprints all over her trophy.”
At first, Blake didn’t understand what that meant. Then Yang nodded down at herself while lifting her palms, and suddenly it made sense. It made so much terrible sense.
“You aren’t a trophy.”
“I am to her.”
Blake’s blood boiled at the suggestion of anyone treating Yang like a prize. Yang didn’t belong to anyone any more than Blake did. She was her own person - unique, wonderful, beautiful - and she had the right to choose the way she lived.
Cecelia staking claim to such a pure, giving soul like Yang made Blake feel like...well, thankfully, she couldn’t see the mercenary leader right now. Otherwise, she would have likely provoked a challenge. Instead, she said nothing. Several long seconds passed with nothing but the sound of the carriage bumping along the trail to disturb them. Yang didn’t say anything more, but she watched Blake struggle for a response.
Why would Yang make that deal? How could she ever think that was a good idea? What good would come out of it?
“Why?” was all Blake managed to ask. Yang must have expected it because she sighed and sank back into the cushions.
“I couldn’t think of another way…” she whispered to her hands. “Vale was on the verge of collapse, and we both know what Atlas would do if they won. I couldn’t let that happen...so many people were counting on me, Blake. I couldn’t let them down.”
Even knowing the type of person Cecelia was, Blake couldn’t fault the decision. Yang made it selflessly. She did what she thought was best for her people, sacrificing her freedom in the process. It was so like Yang to do something like that that Blake couldn’t even be mad. Besides, the decision happened long before they met. And asking if Yang regretted it was pointless - her eyes displayed that regret clear as day.
“Please don’t tell Ruby…” she whispered. “I couldn’t. I told her we’d figure it out later.”
“I’m pretty sure she’ll figure it out when Cecelia moves into your room.”
Clenching her jaw at the enraging thought, Blake shook her head and turned away. She only turned back when Yang clasped her hand. The emotions in Yang’s eyes hurt - part sadness at the past, part begging for forgiveness, part acceptance of the future.
“I don’t have much time left…” she whispered before staring at their joined hands. Her warm fingers intertwined with Blake’s while her thumb gently stroked the back of Blake’s hand. “I was kind of hoping to...kill two birds with one stone.”
Yang looked up and attempted a flimsy smile, but the words felt like jagged knives tearing through Blake’s heart.
“That’s not funny,” she whispered, her voice cracking when she thought about how close that day might be.
“I know.” Dropping the false bravado, Yang pulled Blake into a hug instead. “I know,” she mumbled into Blake’s hair. “I’m sorry.”
Blake didn’t want an apology; she wanted a cure. She wanted to get the Phage out of Yang so that they could stay together. Either that, or she wanted to go back in time and find Yang before any of this started.
She didn’t want to cry over how unfair this felt, but that was what she wanted to do right now. She wanted to blame someone for the horrible ache in her chest, which would only hurt more as time went on.
“Can you promise me something?” Yang whispered while running a hand through Blake’s hair. “When the treaty’s finished...or if something happens to me...you need to get far away from Vale.”
“I’m not scared of her.”
Yang sighed and backed away. Still holding Blake’s shoulder with one hand, she tenderly caressed Blake’s cheek and slowly shook her head.
“You don’t understand how ruthless she is…”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can,” Yang replied with an almost apologetic smile. “But you have morals. You have a conscience. She knows that, and she’ll use those against you.”
The concern reminded Blake of Adam, with his clever manipulation concealing murderous tendencies. Yang didn’t understand that Blake had dealt with that type of behavior before, and she could again.
But Yang was worried about her, and the last thing Yang needed was more to worry about.
“Ok.” Even though Blake had no intention of following through with what Yang asked of her, she forced a quick smile. “Don’t worry.”
The relief in Yang’s eyes made her feel guilty, but the feeling faded when Yang wrapped her in another warm, tender hug. She needed her spark to withstand the heat, but she was determined to bear it for Yang’s sake.
She would bear a lot for Yang’s sake, but she wouldn’t run. She wouldn’t leave Yang’s side. This wasn’t just about the Badlands anymore. This wasn’t about Vale, Atlas, the war, any of it. This was about a dying queen’s few remaining moments before the Phage ran its course.
Right now, the only thing Blake cared about was cherishing the next few minutes, hours, or days with Yang. Cecelia could try to kill her later. At that point, based on how much her heart hurt even now, she would probably welcome the distraction.