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Their fingers curled around their sword, their breath heaving from the cold of the throne room. The soles of their shoes could not block the ice beneath their feet, neither could their hands keep themselves from the numbing sensation in the air. Their traveling companion was long gone, frozen among the ice of the palace. The traveler had made it to Snezhnaya, freezing themselves in the process.
In front of them was the Tsaritsa, her towering throne higher than that of any building they've come across on their journey. Her dress flowed in the rigid air, the silk covering the steps of the stairs on which her bloodstained feet walk upon. Her majesty's pale hand rested upon her face as her eyes looked down on them from between the spaces of her slender fingers. Her lips let out the holy breath of Celestia but her lungs were only full of displeasure when she saw how weak Teyvat's hero was before her feet. If she didn't know any better, she'd assume that this hero could lose their footing at any moment.
Beside her was a harbinger, the one who had lost half of her face to the flames of a bygone era. Her cloak was similar to her archon's dress but with the slight difference of it being as long as her arrogance. Her gloved hand hid the venom in her smile, her amusement being fed by the sight of the traveler freezing to death.
Signora stood as if she was on equal footing to the Tsaritsa and as if she was the favorite harbinger among the eleven. To stand by an archon whose rule was stronger than all would only signify the status of another archon or a lover. The traveler didn't want to take chances with guessing.
"Speak, traveler. If you hold your sword with such strength then I am sure you are at least capable of a greeting," she spoke, her voice commanding a silence the traveler had never felt before.
Their body trembled, the weight of their sword unbalancing in their hands. The cold breaths that her majesty breathed into the air were consuming the traveler, her ice gripped their feet, keeping them from moving any further. The traveler's feet were stuck on the ground on which the Fatui worshipped and the only way to go forward would be to fall. They didn't know what to do that could shake all of Snezhnaya.
Signora noticed this and her voice erupted with arrogant laughter. Her gaze looked down on them, only to earn a glare from the freezing hero.
"You're just as pathetic as the people you failed to save, it's so pitiful. They would be so disappointed to see you like this," Signora laughed.
The traveler gritted their teeth, the air clouding as their breaths escaped through the gaps in their lips. Signora could only scoff when she saw how the traveler's grip on their sword tightened.
The Tsaritsa remained unmoving, her gaze watching the traveler's expression change from helplessness to anger. Knowing her thirst full of boredom would be quenched by the words of her beloved to the wavering traveler.
"Your little 'tour guide' is nowhere to be seen and you're trembling before her majesty. All of Teyvat, even Celestia, would laugh at your pitiful state," Signora spoke, her words echoing within the halls of the throne room.
The Tsaritsa scoffed at her remark, finding her words amusing when it came to angering the traveler. She could almost see the hotheaded hero begin to melt her ice with their anger alone.
"All those sacrifices the people made for you would have been for nothing, not even that man from Inazuma you spoke of."
The Tsaritsa saw the traveler only become red with anger, their whole face hot even as her throne room was adorned with ice. She commented, "Oh darling, look, you made the little knight mad."
Signora laughed once more, accompanied by the archon's own voice. Their voices mixed into the cold, bitter air, concocting a poison that drove the traveler to the edge of insanity.
The traveler's mind was filled with the arrogant voice of the harbinger. Their feet were beginning to fall and their hands were starting to waver with every sound that came out of the fair lady. Their will and their morals seemed to have burned then tossed into the back of their mind. All they needed to do was shake the Tsaritsa's will and they could avenge all those who were lost to their delusions.
So, they looked at Signora with all the courage they had taken from their travels and spoke words that could shake even the heavens.
"I challenge La Signora to a duel before the throne!"
The Tsaritsa's eyes grew wide. Her hands fell from her face to grip the sides of her throne, her nails digging into the ice that formed on the arms of her seat. Never in the centuries of her immortality had she ever heard such a ludicrous sentence. Her whole body moved, almost commanding all of the ice in her hands to pierce through the traveler, but she caught a glimpse of her harbinger smiling. The sharpened ends of her ice held their position in front of the traveler as the canvas of her face become painted by a different emotion.
She looked to Signora, seeing the surprise painted onto her beloved's face but it was decorated with a confident smile. Signora put her hand on her chest, cooing at the traveler's weak attempt for their redemption.
"And I accept," she said, her voice covered in confidence.
The Tsaritsa sat back onto her seat, her brows furrowed and disbelief evident on the skin of her pale face. She looked back to the traveler to see them struggle within the grip of her palace's icy confines. The struggling traveler looked like a wriggling worm taken into the bird's nest and it only fed Signora's eagerness to fight them. To see that wriggling worm stop moving was all the harbinger wanted to see and the Tsaritsa knew that.
She sighed, the smoke of the cold escaping her lips. She stood from her throne, her height adding to the spectacle of her being. Her hands moved to summon a scroll that unraveled itself before her. She motioned her hands to open it with the simple power of her cryo then she spoke the words written upon it.
"Though tradition in Inazuma, a duel before the throne may be requested before any archon to prove their honor or return it," she stated.
Her hands moved once again, her eyes looking towards the rule that had applied to them. She looked back to the traveler with eyes full of poison then she continued, "According to the rules of Teyvat, they will battle in front of the archon but not to the death."
Her eyes found themselves falling upon Signora, seeing the pride adorning the harbinger. Something stirred within the pits of her stomach, the concoction of her own confidence within despising the world began to eat away at the linings of her organs when she saw the next passage written on the scroll. The eyes of the resentful archon could only fill with the fear that she had not seen since the cataclysm. She shook her head, afraid that the traveler could catch her within a moment of weakness, then her hands closed the scroll and made it disappear into a puff of harsh smoke.
"It will be the archon's duty to rid the defeated of their life."
She put her hands together and moved them with a grace greater than any other archon could carry. From her slender fingers, bursts of frostbite blew themselves into the air to fall upon the ground. These flakes etched from her majesty's fingertips only began to grow, the sizes and shapes forming icicles that almost broke through the ceiling.
The archon had made an enclosure for the duel, large spikes of ice trapping the traveler within the chamber that will soon house the blood that was to be splattered across the Tsaritsa's nails. The traveler broke free from the ice that surrounded their feet, only to have their hands be numbed by the roughness of the icicles. Even as the Tsaritsa left spaces in between these towering heights, the traveler could not see her on the other side.
On the other side of the wall, the Tsaritsa stood before Signora. Her gaze softened as she saw her harbinger before her, her eyes glistening and her face decorated with the duality of her personality. The fair lady bowed before her majesty, her knees touching the base of the throne and her gaze falling to the fabric of the archon she served. No loyalty could defeat Signora's towards the Tsaritsa and that's exactly what brought her into this position.
"Signora, raise your head," she said, holding out her hand for the harbinger.
Signora took her hand and stood in front of her. The fair lady watched as the Tsaritsa's hand moved to caress her face. Her fingers were cold as they touched Signora's cheek. Signora could only stay still, awaiting her majesty's instructions. Yet, the Tsaritsa only stood there, holding her as if she had found love within her existence.
"What is it you wish to tell me, your majesty?" Signora asked, her voice drastically different from the one she used to belittle the traveler.
"I promise you," the Tsaritsa spoke.
For the first time in centuries, the archon's hands became warm as they rested on Signora's skin. She could feel the blood rushing once again through the Tsaritsa's fingers and her breath become warm even as the air around her was the wind of winter.
"You will not die, not here and not ever. I promise you, you will not die in my arms."
She had heard those words before when she was kneeling before the throne with half of her face gone.
Signora leaned into the touch, feeling the warmth of a fire that had not been lit since half a millennia ago. It had been long since her body became liquid fire and it had been long since her majesty calmed the tongues of fire within her. The mask covering the burn scars of her once fair face was a reminder of her loyalty. That loyalty only brought her before the Tsaritsa and allowed her to be held by a love she thought had been extinguished during the cataclysm.
"Then I shall become immortal through you, your majesty."
The Tsaritsa could only look at her with the softest expression she could muster, knowing that the fair lady was putting years of resentment into a single fight that would determine the rest of her life. Her hand retracted, falling right back to the side of her. The warmth still burned and it still hurt, but the cold of Signora's being was enough to calm it.
That was what the Tsaritsa feared.
"Go, I will be here when you win," said she, even as her worries began to eat away at her teeth.
Signora went into the enclosure in which the traveler awaited, leaving the Tsaritsa to lean back on her throne to watch. Through the spaces of the icicle, she could see the traveler wield their sword before the fair lady. There was anger and insanity in their eyes, the thought of everything leading up to that moment had been thrown out the window. Within that enclosure was not the hero of Teyvat, but the one who will cause its fall through their insanity.
The two readied their weapons, their breaths heaving puffs of warm air into the freezing room.
"Begin," the Tsaritsa commanded.
In the blink of an eye, the traveler began slashing their sword against Signora. Their feet were as fast as lightning but as light as air, their sword was as strong as an archon's will and their hands were as fluid as water.
On the other hand, Signora blocked all of their attempts to wound her. Her icicles were as strong as her resolve and faster than any enemy the traveler had faced in their journeys.
The sounds of a blade etching its marks onto the ice caught every bit of the Tsaritsa's attention. She watched through the gaps of her walls just to see how much strength was stored in such a small body. That strength had been given by other nations so the traveler would not want to hear the Tsaritsa after what her men did to those nations. The traveler would never side with her so to have a harbinger deal with them was the quickest way to rid herself of another obstacle.
She just didn't expect that harbinger to be her lover.
She watched the resentment and pride grow in Signora's eyes from the distance. From the safety of her own throne, she looked down upon the battlefield and saw two lunatics fighting for the same goal. Within the confines of their minds, all they really wanted was revenge.
The Tsaritsa saw the traveler run across the enclosure with the agility of a god, slashing Signora with every opportunity they found. Their eyes were filled with anger, carrying the weight of ambition upon their shoulders. Every slash was a wish from the hero, a wish to hurt the one who hurt the people.
Signora was the same. Her vision was only filled with anger but it wasn't towards the traveler, she could only feel a sarcastic pity when she looked at them. With every icicle that met the traveler's blade, she was preventing those wishes from coming true. Those who she protected loathed her while she watched them cheer for a hero they'd never met.
The archon knew, she knew that Signora looked at the traveler as if she wanted the treatment they were given. There was no point in saving the common folk if they only spit on your efforts and the fair lady knew that best.
She was just resentful that they pushed her away from her home while they welcomed the traveler with open arms.
The nation of freedom called her a witch and took everything from her while the flames of her hatred only continued to grow, burning herself into ashes to protect the wretched land. That same nation welcomed the traveler and gave them the luxury of an honorary title while they ate extravagant meals. To spit on her efforts but reward the traveler for practically the same thing, it all seemed so unfair to the harbinger.
The meeting of a blade and ice rang through the halls of the palace, the grunts of the warriors going with it. Yet, somehow, as the sword became bent and the traveler's anger only grew, there was a shout from the hero in between all the noise.
"You witch, I'll make you pay for everything!"
The clanging of the traveler's blade came to a halt and the Tsaritsa had to snap out of her thoughts to see what had happened. She stood from her throne, gripping the arms of her seat once again, only to display a look of horror on her face. Within the confines of her excellent chamber was a cocoon made of pure ice.
"Rosalyne," she whispered.
The small bud began to crack, the ice of the cocoon only began to melt as wings burst through the spaces. Like a moth awakening from its own slumber, Signora burst forth in a new form. Her mask covered both her eyes, extending to the sides of her face while her dress became a gown of flames. She sprouted wings that dripped with liquid fire, melting away the frost on the floor.
She looked down on the traveler, her vision clouded by the greatest anger of all.
"Do not call me a witch."
Her flames engulfed the battlefield, burning away at the icicles that the Tsaritsa had formed. The tips of the towering structures came tumbling down, injuring the traveler in the process. Signora's anger roared throughout all of Snezhnaya, her flames engulfing the whole throne room. Her flames spread across the ice, even the wood on the ceiling began to fall off with the heat. She reached towards the traveler, only to throw them across the room. Her hands gripped their clothes while they struggled to get back down.
"Your nation took everything from me! I protected them from those damn monsters and they decided I was filth! I am no witch and I do not deserve to be treated as such!" she shouted. The Tsaritsa's eyes grew wide as the sudden outburst, her feet beginning to move on their own as she went down from her throne.
Everything the Tsaritsa feared was coming true.
She looked them in the eye and watched as the flames from her hands creep onto their face. The traveler squirmed, unable to breathe from the tightness of her grip. Their hands gripped Signora's wrists, wriggling like a worm trying to break free from the claws of the bird.
The fire crept closer, up through Signora's arm to meet the soft skin of the traveler. She had no plans to spill their blood on her hands, only blind them to make them feel the amount of pain Mondstadt put upon her.
However, the traveler had other plans.
Their mind became clouded, away from all thought of reason, only leaving the instinct of battle to aid them. They had come to realize that their hands were free and stopped trying to break free from the grasp of the one in pain. Instead, they summoned their sword from the power they had learned throughout their journey and pierced through the heart of the burning woman.
"Rosalyne!"
Though her body was on fire, the strike to her chest froze her. The blood seeping from her chest stained her intricate gown while the mask adorning her face had fallen. Behind the mask, Signora's one eye was wide with fear while her other eye revealed itself to be blind before the traveler. Half of her face was scarred with a burn made by her own hand and it had been the first and last time they'll ever see that face. The shock was filling the fair lady, everything that led up to that moment would have been for nothing if she were to die at the hands of Teyvat's filthiest rat.
The Tsaritsa broke through the last remaining structures of ice, seeing the sword lodged into Signora's chest as she did so. Her eyes only grew wider and her heart stopped beating, her breath became caught in her throat. She saw it with her own two eyes, the blood of her harbinger smeared across that shining blade.
And at the sight of the Tsaritsa rushing from her throne, the traveler came to realize what they had done. Their stomach began to burn with bile as they saw their sword covered with Signora's blood and the scent of the aftermath wafted to their nose. The cold was no longer in the air but the sight of the harbinger's dying flame was all that was left. They quickly covered their mouth, keeping themselves from puking at the result of all their frustrations.
Signora's body dropped to the ground, taking the traveler with them. The grip of her hands loosened and freed them but the way her mask fell to the floor to reveal the innocent face of a Mondstadtian haunted the traveler's mind. The Tsaritsa caught her, the archon's holy hands holding on for dear life with Signora in her arms.
"Rosalyne, stay awake. I'll call for Dottore, I-I'm sure he knows what to do. Pl-ease, don't close your eyes," the Tsaritsa's once commanding voice was now weak in front of the traveler.
Signora's form was diminishing slowly, the flames of her body slowly burning away. Her fair face was adorned by a burn scar on the right side, her skin rough compared to the the rest. She knew her mask had fallen, she knew the Tsaritsa could see her greatest imperfection. She was burning up and the only thing she needed was the cold of Snezhnaya. The Tsaritsa's cold hands were against her body and that was all the fair lady could wish for, to be held so dearly after her love had been forgotten.
Signora's dignity had long been taken once the traveler pierced her heart with their blade. She had never thought death could catch up to her eternal body of liquid flame but here she was, in the arms of the woman she was learning to love. So, she put away her pride and all of her arrogance to put away the mask she had always worn before the Tsaritsa.
"Thank you," she said as she reached out to hold the Tsaritsa's hand. The ashes of her last remaining existence caught themselves in her throat but nevertheless, she continued, "thank you for never calling me a witch."
"Rosalyne, please, I promised you that you would not die in my arms."
Signora laughed a bit, coughing from her flames in between the last small breaths of her life.
"Your majesty, to die in your arms would be the only death I would accept. Immortality would haunt me if you weren't the one holding me."
The last bits of her flame burned the Tsaritsa's hands but the sensation they left ignited something within the archon. She looked at the traveler, her eyes only glistening with anger towards them. After she watched the last bits of ashes fly into the air, she gripped the traveler by their collar and brought them near. She was such a tall height that the traveler struggled to stay in the air as her hand held them in her grasp.
"Do you think you're a god, defying the rules I had set for this duel? Do you think you're a god, killing my darling as you please?"
The traveler's eyes widened when she spoke, knowing that they had blood on their hands. They tried to escape once more but the Tsaritsa had taken their sword and held it in her other hand. She brought it up to their chin, lifting their head up to look at her straight in the eye. The tip of the blade opened a cut on the underside of their face, slowly ripping their skin with every second that the archon's anger grew.
"I do not care what you want and I could care less if it benefited me. You killed my darling and now, all the information you wanted about the cataclysm is now lost," she spoke, her voice pumping poison into the traveler.
She threw the traveler onto the ground, seeing the hero grunt as their back hit the shards of her ice. She proceeded to call the other harbingers to the throne room to hold the traveler by their arms. Once they did so, she froze the sword and broke it into millions of pieces before their eyes.
"Harbingers, ready yourselves for an execution," she said as she took Signora's mask from the floor. She shed a tear at the sight of her beloved's most prized possession, especially since it was her majesty who placed it upon her face in her weakest moments.
"We'll be broadcasting the traveler's execution to all of Teyvat at sunrise."