A Series Of Unfortunate Circumstances [RWBY SI] [AHOIAC AU]

[shadenight123]

Prologue

It was the baggage handler.

Nobody would ever link it to him. Nobody would ever know that the source of all that would happen...would be the fault of a baggage handler.

A Faunus, one of the low, mistreated workers that eked a living out of carrying baggage through the freezing terminals of Atlas' freezing nights had just finished unloading the latest batch when he overheard two fancy, well-dressed pilots talk to one another.

The next day there was going to be an emergency flight headed for Vacuo. Order of SDC President Jacques Schnee himself. So urgent, nobody had been alerted, and flights had to be moved to make it happen.

It was strange. It was bizarre.

It probably meant security would be low on that particular day, and if there was one thing that the baggage handler knew, was that this kind of good information would result in good Lien from his friends seeking to make a powerful statement against the tyranny of the SDC.

In his mind, he reckoned it would be some kind of regional director getting the short end of the stick. Perhaps they'd blow the plane up with a group of SDC enforcers meant to pacify a rebellion. Or maybe his friends in the White Fang would infiltrate and steal the people's identities, and then send their own sympathizers in a kind of secret Spruce Willis Agent-Like Movie to...well, to do something.

Thus, the Baggage Handler was to blame.

Nobody would ever know this, however.

Nobody would ever know that the events that would happen, the way they would span, would be the fault of one embittered faunus, making a call he shouldn't have made to people who weren't at all kind, seeking to make a powerful statement to a society that hated them.

That was how Wren Schnee died.

At least, death would have been a mercy compared to what truly happened.

I didn't know why life seemed keen on throwing me hard-curved balls designed to make my entire existence a set of disasters one after the other. What I did know was that I definitely didn't deserve this. I reckoned it was my father's fault, in some way. Perhaps he had willfully engineered it, but I didn't think he'd be so callous.

I mean, what kind of father turns a teenager's rebellion into a good excuse to kill someone?

I admit, when the pilots of the private jet had mentioned that there were unidentified flying objects, I had thought they meant stuff like Huntsmen jumping or floating a bit higher than normal, or some military jet of some kind privately escorting us.

Instead, we were hit.

Admittedly, I didn't think I was going to die.

Well, I actually was thinking that for the first few minutes, but then my heart practically exploded in my chest with the sheer belief that the pilots would, surely, attempt to crash-land somewhere viable. Then we began to spin out of control, and my breakfast left my mouth.

By the time the ground was coming up, I had started screaming and crying in equal amounts.

Then we crashed, and I felt the rumbling of the jet snap in half as my body snapped to the right and to the left.

I-I barely contemplated if I had broken my neck, but my fingers did indeed move. They twitched, but my body just decided to not collaborate. I should have stayed awake. Deep down, I knew that if I closed my eyes-I would not live.

But I couldn't keep them open.

It was on me.

Everything that happened after that.

Everything-It was on me, and my weakness of that moment.

I could have run. I could have died. I could have done a lot of things.

But I didn't, because I was weak.

It was not the Grimm that found my unconscious form first. They, at the very least, would have been kind enough to kill me on the spot.

It was the White Fang who did, and from that act alone...

...the lush jungles of Mistral would never be the same again.

AN: We're going on an adventure. It's going to be a beautiful adventure. Love. Friendship. Joy. Everything Nice. Get ready for the ride of your life. Also, this is an AU of A Heart of Ice and Coffee. And depending on whether you prefer the chicken to have come before the egg, or viceversa, this is also an AU of The Other Path. So, just as a head's up, we'll be exploring Mistral, Salem's Faction, aaaannnnnddddd...something else. But you'll see.

My muse cannot be stopped.

I am not sorry about that.

 

[shadenight123]

Chapter One

The White Fang was made of embittered faunus fighting for their equality. They were just then growing violent. However, even they were above killing a child. Sure, I was more of a teenager, but I had no intention of playing the adult-like card when the only reason I wasn't being executed was that I stuck to being an innocent. Still, that kind of thing could, and would change. Perhaps they wouldn't kill a thirteen year old, but if I became an eighteen year old, or a twenty-four year old, then I reckoned they'd just kill me and get it over with.

For the time being, I had been spared the executioner's block.

I hadn't been spared the cell, though, or the prisoner food.

I hadn't been spared the jeering. I hadn't been spared the roughing up. I admit, when the cell opened up the first time, my first thought was that I'd somehow be freed because my father had paid the ransom money. I wouldn't have minded actually thanking the man for that.

Unfortunately the White Fang that captured me had soon learned of who I was, and when they realized how important I actually could be as a prisoner, they decided that rather than just asking for a lump sum of money, they'd demand other stuff. Stuff like better labor laws, for example. Stuff that would require months to get done. Stuff that would make the company lose most of its earnings.

And if I knew my father well enough, he'd stonewall the whole thing. He'd have paid any amount of millions, because money could be recovered, but he'd never pass laws that would diminish the company's earnings for years, or until they got repealed.

So, of course, the only solution was to rough up the prisoner and then have him deliver the White Fang's demands through a recorded video.

"Please father," I found myself croaking out with a black and blue eye, "make the Faunus equal to the humans. I want to go home."

It didn't work.

Admittedly, I could have told them that. I could have told them about how Jacques Schnee was a cold-hearted bastard, someone who wouldn't move or lift a finger if it didn't benefit him. But they didn't listen. They didn't care to listen. They had a wonderful toy to play with. A wonderful target upon which to pour their hatred, their suffering, their anger at the injustices they had suffered.

I would have thought that after a while, the hits would stop hurting. They never did.

The cell I was in was just a square block of rock, some sturdy looking iron bars, and the masked Faunus bringing me the meals would ensure I didn't get too uppity by making sure I thanked him for the food every, single, time.

I had learned to appreciate the silence. I had learned to dread the footsteps drawing closer.

I had met Sienna Khan precisely once. She had given one look at me, smiled like the ferocious Shere Khan that she had been inspired from, and then left instructions on how far they could go with getting me to cooperate.

Other prisoners, I actually saw come and go. Some of them screamed as they were dragged away, and others seemed to exhale in relief as they were released after a ransom was paid. The big shots, they'd nearly always execute. The small fries, they'd hold for ransom and free after a few months of captivity.

I had given up on attempting to escape. Even if I did miraculously make it out of the cell I'd still have to contend with being in a place I knew nothing of, surrounded by people who would love nothing less than beat me to near-catatonic levels of death, and then throw me back in the cell to nurse my broken bones and beaten flesh by myself.

There were Grimm though. Those I could hear, rather than sense. Then again this was some kind of prison complex, and the misery and pain were ever-present, which meant that they nearly always under attack.

There were random bouts of gunfire, and sometimes I heard the telltale sound of steel hitting flesh.

I was getting used to the treatment. I just had to be quiet, show no signs of arrogance, or pride, and I'd probably survive long enough for something, or someone, to come rescue me.

I had my back against the wall when my relatively peaceful imprisonment took a turn for the worse.

It took a horrible turn, because as the months had passed, it was clear that my father wouldn't break. He wouldn't bend. He wouldn't do anything to recover me-and so they had to up the ante.

They could have cut a part of my body to send back. That would have been grisly, and horrifying, but it could have worked. Fortunately, the one in charge had a better idea, one born of experience, and desire for revenge.

That was how I met Adam Taurus. It was a short meeting, perhaps even shorter than the one with Sienna. Mostly because I didn't get to speak many coherent thoughts, not when he stepped inside and slammed a knee into my guts, throwing me against the wall of the cell.

I had thought that he had just come to hit me a bit harder. To work some of his frustration out. My mind was already retreating back into my happy place, my quiet place, my silent, friendly place where nobody could ever hurt me ever again. But then, he brought to my attention a branding tool with the White Fang's symbol burning red on one end.

"It seems you'll be in our care for a while longer," Adam spoke calmly, flatly, an amused smile showing beneath his mask. "And we decided it would be best to make sure you wouldn't get lost amidst the rest of our property."

A chuckle. A bitter chuckle left my throat.

This wasn't how I planned on things going. I had great ideas. I had great plans. I had a lot of things I wanted to do, but all I ended up with-all I had-it was just pain.

My hand burned. My screams attracted the guards. They laughed. They all laughed until they actually stopped Adam from smashing my hand with the sheer pressure he used in pressing the burning poker into my flesh. They stopped him, because I was needed alive.

"Adam, enough! You know the closest doctor is days away-" one muttered as I slumped down from the fatigue of the ordeal.

"I've survived worse," Adam snarled back. "He'll survive this, and much more before the year is over."

Then I took a deep breath, and watched the guards gently bring Adam away. They left me there, to whimper without any care.

I stared, my vision blurry, at the metal bars of the prison cell. They'd bring someone to take me to record another video. Yet, the branding poker was still there. They had left it there. It was on the ground.

I had been resigned. The pain in my hand didn't make me resigned. It made me furious.

Branded like cattle.

I stretched my left hand towards the branding iron. I grunted, my eyes fixed firmly on it. The tip of my fingers touched it, and then I pulled it towards me. It was still warm, still smudged with the red of the burned blood from my flesh.

There was one thing to do.

They always sent one person alone to bring me to record, because I was just a fourteen year old. I was just a weak, passive boy.

My fists clenched and pain blossomed where my fingers dug into the brand.

I was going to either die, or get out of there only to die outside getting eaten by a Grimm.

It was still a better fate than being chopped to bits. It was still a better fate than anything else.

I hid the poker behind my back as I waited. I heard the footsteps draw near, the jingle of keys, the masked man step inside to grab hold of me. "Ready to go for a new video, brat?" he smirked. It was the arrogant smirk of a man that knew I wouldn't fight him. It was the look of relaxation. The one thing he didn't expect, the one thing he didn't think would happen-

His eyes were wide as saucers as the sharp tip of the poker had speared through his throat, a gurgle of blood leaving his mouth. My fingers trembled. My teeth gritted. I pushed, his body's weight quite heavy as I made it slump down on the ground, gasping for air.

Then I hurried.

I pulled his clothes off his body.

They were smudged with blood near the neck, but they were useful. They were bigger than my size. They looked positively clownish. They smelled of sweat, and reeked as if they hadn't been washed in weeks. The man had a blade by the hip, a simple blade with nothing of interest to it. It was just a sword, but I took it with me as I quickly left the cells behind. I had no precise direction, but if the Grimm were attacking judging by the noise, I'd take the distraction for all of its worth.

I was a wry, fourteen year old wearing clothes that looked too big for me. The mask on my face made me see, but not really that much. My right hand hurt. I was terrified. The Grimm were apparently attacking the buildings once more, I could hear the gunshots, and the yells.

I didn't know if the things were connected, but as my steps brought me through the hallways, I glanced at a window and saw my way out.

My heart leaped into my throat as I saw what looked like typical jungle jeeps out in the courtyard of the complex, just basking in the sun waiting for someone to drive them.

I tightened the grip on the sword, rushing for any form of stairway that led me downwards, and then for a pair of big, main doors that would bring me into the courtyard.

If you appear to have purpose, nobody is going to question you. There were some White Fang, but they barely saw me hurry for the jeep. They didn't call out to me, because who else but someone with a purpose would get into one? And anyway, the Schnee kid was being brought to get a video done. There was no way he'd have managed an escape, no way he'd have the guts to trudge in front of them to get on a jeep, and clearly, he wouldn't be able to drive one even if he did reach it.

Fourteen year old couldn't drive. Pampered children of rich people had chauffeurs.

I climbed into the jeep, inwardly thanking God that the ignition key had been left inside. It was a manual gear; and I knew how to drive manual. I remembered. Desperation made me remember as I accelerated for the gate and came to a halt by it with a sharp jolt of panic.

"Oi! Open!" I snarled, "The Schnee went into shock, I need to get the doctor here in a hurry! Adam's orders!"

The battle with the Grimm outside was probably going on strong. A Beowolf snarled as it lunged for the wall, but the guy atop the complex' wall didn't question the desperation in my voice. Perhaps the shrillness gave credence to what was happening inside. Perhaps he was a newbie. Perhaps he had better things to do than worry about one guy wanting to get eaten by the Grimm outside. All that it mattered was that he opened the gate. He opened the gate and closed it just as quickly once I was out.

My heart was nearly ready to explode.

My hand moved through the motions of shifting the gears, and as I rushed through the road ahead of me, I knew not if I would make it, but I knew that I would die a free man.

It was all I could ask.

It was all I could want.

Then there was a curve I hadn't expected, a rock I hadn't seen, and the jeep plummeted out of the badly beaten road and straight into the thick jungle of Mistral. I was flung out of the jeep like a missile, my body snapping against soft, flexible trees that dulled my fall onto the wet, humid ground. I rolled away as the jeep crashed far more badly than me, plumes of smoke leaving its engine as I stared at it, as if transfixed.

This was going from bad to worse.

I had tears of frustration in my eyes, anger bubbled warmly into my chest as I screamed raw, incoherent sentences from the pain that my body was feeling, and the way my limbs were burning.

I cradled myself as I rushed without purpose, not aim, away from the crash. I didn't make it far before an explosion echoed behind me, my bitterness seeping through as I found myself walking, hot white anger pouring out from the pain I felt.

Fourteen year old me could have been learning the basics of economics. He could have been training to become a huntsman. Fourteen year old me didn't deserve to be tortured, beaten, branded, forced to escape, nearly killed in a car accident-probably being hunted by the Grimm and whatnot.

Life was unfair.

My life was truly the most unfair of them all.

Yet, I hadn't yet reached the very bottom of the unfairness-barrel.

I hadn't yet scraped, and dug further down.

But I would. Oh if I would.

But not yet. No, first life had to throw more curved balls at me. Because if it didn't, then what would be the point? I'd keep on walking. There was supposed to be a doctor days away. There was supposed to be a settlement. If the Grimm got to me first, I had a sword. I was sure I'd be able to use it, somewhat. Just stab them with the pointy end. Just-just do something with it. My strength began to fade as the minutes ticked by.

The Grimm weren't hot on my heels. Perhaps they weren't truly pursuing me? Perhaps they had better things to do? I didn't know. I couldn't know.

Collapsing into the middle of the jungle once the adrenaline wore off was expected. It was sad, because it meant I'd probably die there, without ever waking up again. I didn't want to die there. Tears rolling down my cheeks, a light drizzling rain falling down, the air heavy with humidity-I didn't want to die there.

"Oh my," a gentle voice called out to my ears. "What happened-are you hurt?"

I couldn't answer. Just...just do whatever you want, because I'm too tired to care.

Waking up in a corner of a kitchen, with a dark-haired girl bustling behind pots and pans, wasn't what I had expected would happen.

"You woke up," the voice was soft-spoken, and gentle. "You weren't wounded-not grievously at least," she sighed in relief.

I looked at the figure, her black hair short, her eyes golden. She was wearing a simple enough beige outfit, and didn't look-didn't-but she had to be-she had to be.

Cinder Fall was looking at me.

The laughter that bubbled from my throat was equal parts hilarity, and utter madness.

It soon began a tearful cry of relief, made all the worst when I realized that the warm pair of arms embracing me belonged to what would, in the near future, become a mass-murdering megalomaniac psychopath.

I had no words.

Why, God. Why.

What cruel, wicked game are you playing that you hurt me so...

...and why do you not release me from this torment you call a life?

 

[shadenight123]

Chapter Two

Life could be worse. Life could be a hell of a lot worse. It could also be a hell of a lot better. I was wearing some old clothes that didn't reek of sweat, and didn't look unwashed. My consciousness came and went through the first day of my recovery, but the hand that had been branded was covered in a handkerchief, and a strange smell came from it, some kind of wet oil having been applied to it.

Perhaps it was meant to dull the pain, or stave off infection.

Still, I'd feel better with the sword by my side.

"I-Where am I?" I asked in the end, once I finally gathered enough presence of mind to ask the questions burning in my mind.

"You are safe for the time being," Cinder spoke. During the day I had seen her rarely, but at night she came by my side. I was apparently sleeping in her cot by the side of the chimney, and her voice was a soothing, gentle whisper. "I found you while going to my mother's grave-so I brought you here."

I swallowed. She didn't look mad. She didn't look psychopathic or maniacal. Yet she'd become it. She'd become a monster. She'd become something horrible, and it would be in four years. Four years of time, and she'd become something horrifying.

Why. How. For what reason.

Would she cook me up? Was that what she was going to do? Fatten me up, then serve me like a roast?

No. That was silly.

"Yes, but..." I muttered, "Where is here?"

"You're in Kinoeda," Cinder muttered. "It's a small settlement, close to Kuchinashi."

"I-I see," I didn't. I didn't see. I didn't understand. "I-I'm..." I bit my tongue. I couldn't, wouldn't, risk it. What if they came looking for me? The best secrets were those nobody knew. The best plans were those nobody heard. "Shade," I said in the end. "My name is Shade."

"Nice to meet you, Shade," Cinder said. She was so gentle-how could she become something so different? What could possibly make her become Cinder Fall? "My name is Ashelyn, Ashelyn Ella."

I looked at her.

Had I gotten the wrong person? Was this-Had I? Maybe this was just my tired mind. Maybe this was my tired mind, playing tricks on me. I exhaled a loud, deep breath as I closed my eyes. "Thank you for saving my life," I whispered. "I-I don't know how I'll ever be able to repay it, but-I'll do my best."

I had to get back to my family. I'd probably make it so she'd get so may billion Lien, she'd never become the evil Cinder Fall of legends.

"You had a sword with you," Ashelyn whispered. "Can you use it?"

I furrowed my brows, I actually didn't know where the sword had gone now that she reminded me of it. "Sharp end goes into soft enemy flesh," I muttered back.

Ashelyn looked at me. I-I didn't like that look. "Could you teach me how to use it?"

"I-Why?" I didn't know the slightest thing about sword-fighting. I didn't know a single thing, and I was also a fourteen year old. What made Cinder think I knew how to use a weapon? Why would she even need to know how to use it? Did she want to kill someone, or-

"Grimm sightings have grown recently," Ashelyn murmured. "If I knew how to use a sword, I could...I could go and hunt them, keep the village safe."

I shuddered, and then grimaced. "I don't know how to use it. I just...I just found it. I'm not a Faunus, but-I found the body, and he had better clothes than what I had, and a weapon, so-"

Ashelyn had the galls to look contrite at that. "You stole from a dead body?" she whispered. "That's-that's bad."

I stared at her as if she had grown a second head.

Definitely, I had gotten the people wrong. Ashelyn couldn't be Cinder Fall. There was no way. There was absolutely no fucking way.

This one was just a case of similar faces. I exhaled such a deep breath I hadn't even thought I had been holding, and quietly gave her a small smile. "I know," I whispered, "And-And I won't do it again, but...he wasn't going to use them any longer-" because I skewered his neck off. For hurting me. I hoped he enjoyed hell.

"It's all right," Ashelyn whispered. "It's getting late and tomorrow is another tiring day," she gave me a hesitant, but warm smile. "We'll talk more tomorrow night."

She then closed her eyes, and fell asleep near instantaneously. Her hands were rife with callouses, and her body was slightly trembling from the lack of a sheet to cover herself with. I had it. She had given it to me the day before and I had been hoarding it till then. With a small sigh, I passed it over. It was such a small thing, perhaps it had come from a potato sack or something, because it could barely cover a person.

I slept with my hands crossed over my chest, tiredness making sleep come all the easier. I had been lucky, incredibly lucky, and had survived the impossible. My whole life, it would probably never be enough to repay the fact that Ashelyn had saved me from certain death. Once I got back into contact with the Schnee family, I'd give her everything she could ever wish.

The next day, my stomach pointed out in a small rumbling noise that I had indeed gone without food for at least two days and it was time to rectify such a behavior. I was in the kitchens, but I had a feeling that the people on staff weren't just allowed to eat food without a care in the world.

Another thing I realized was that Ashelyn wasn't eating either. I didn't see her eat at breakfast, and I didn't see her eat at lunch. When I did see her eat, it was normally while doing taste-testing, or at dinner with the bread gone hard from a day and left uneaten.

This wasn't living.

I hadn't yet gone beyond the kitchen, but whoever was in charge here-they needed a talking to.

"Ash," I muttered by the end of the second day. The water was easy to come by since it was readily available from the tap, "where's my sword?" I asked. "I-I think I'd better be on my way. I've imposed enough."

I also felt the impending need to hold the sword while talking with whoever employed Ashelyn.

Just hold the sword without doing anything. You know, normal conversation about employee rights, and benefits.

"You aren't fully healed yet," Ashelyn whispered. "I'll try to bring some apples to you tomorrow from the fields."

"Why aren't you eating anyway?" I muttered back.

"It's-" Ashelyn sighed. "It's a long story."

I looked at her, "You can tell me in installments? I'm...I'm a good listener."

A small smile settled on Ashelyn's face. It was sorrowful, and incredibly sad.

"It's also a sad story," she added next.

"Life's one eternal story of sadness and grief," I muttered back. My right hand gently dropped on the back of one of hers, and I gave it a light squeeze. "You tell me your story, I'll tell you mine."

Ashelyn thought about it for a moment, and then shifted her position in the cot. "Very well," she said.

It was no one thousand and one nights' tale...

...but it was enough to make my blood boil all the same.

 

[shadenight123]

Chapter Three

Murder would have never felt more right. I knew it, and yet I wouldn't do it. The story had parallels, but it also had differences. Ashelyn's mother had died of a plague that had swept the settlement a few years back, and her father, a huntsman, had remarried soon after to give Ashelyn a loving family while he was out on missions. Then, the loving family had turned out to be a woman and her two daughters, who took possession of the house and practically kicked Ashelyn down to servant status.

Her father had died on a mission before he could return to set things right, and the despicable woman that was Ashelyn's step-mother had told her that if she wanted to stay, she'd have to work. And if she wanted to go to the village's fabled dancing fair by the end of the year, she'd have to put money aside to buy her own dress.

I knew where this was going even as Ashelyn told me the story night after night, no more than ten, or fifteen minutes each time because she had to sleep, being worked to the bone would make people tired regardless of their will to stay awake. Thankfully, the stepmother and the stepdaughters never stepped into the kitchen, since it was beneath them. They rarely were in the house to begin with, more occupied with going back and forth from Kuchinashi seeking other, richer husbands.

They were marriage scammers.

Seriously, I really wanted to slam a sword in their guts, but at the same time I knew that was the beginning of a slippery slope I didn't want to get onto.

"There's an old lady in the village," Ashelyn whispered. "I brought her one of my mother's dresses and she said she'd fix it for me for a small sum," there was joy in her voice as she said that. "I-I've been putting aside the Liens for my meals and taking one Lien here and there. If I keep this up, I'll manage in time."

I had my back against the kitchen wall.

"It's really important, this village fair, isn't it?" I asked in a hushed whisper.

"Yes," Ashelyn said with a soft whisper. "It's where my father met my mother," she added. "I-My mother said I'd meet my prince there too." There was a tender love in her eyes that I knew would just end up so badly burned that it wasn't funny.

I knew how this was going to. I knew it. The parallels-the similarities, everything made sense. I'd put my hand on the fire if I was ever wrong.

"You think..." I muttered. "You think your stepsisters are going to-"

But Ashelyn was already sleeping, her breathing even, a tender smile on her face.

Over the nights, she had scuttled closer and closer, until she was practically sleeping right by my side, one of my arms as pillow and her head resting upon it. I settled the potato-bag bed sheet over her quietly, and then clenched my right fist as I looked at the kitchen's ceiling. Over our heads, sleeping on mattresses without a care in the world were people who would jeer, laugh, insult-and rip that pretty dress apart.

My cowardice and weakness were my sins to carry.

I could have stopped it there and then. I could have stood up, plunged a blade in the silent night into the chests of three monsters clad in human form, and there would not have been a tragedy.

But I did not.

Frustration, anger, disgust-they were emotions I was coming to cherish hating upon, when the truth of the matter was that it was my inaction, and my inability to commit what needed to be done, that would bring about the saddest day ever for someone who didn't deserve it.

It would be on me.

But it didn't mean there weren't other solutions I could adopt.

The next morning, Ashelyn woke up to the sound of the pans being put into place and the stove being lit. I might have been a free-loader until then, but I was now capable of standing on my own two legs, and the least I could do was return a tiny bit of the enormous debt I owed her.

"Hey sleepy head," I whispered with a smile, and a wink, "I set the pots and the pans. Sorry if I woke you up."

"I-You shouldn't have, it's-" Ashelyn stood up, and then stretched, "I'll do it."

"It's all right," I said with a slow nod. "I don't want to make them angry at you, I'll just learn, so I can help you out. I can't pretty much leave yet, not until I've repaid my debt to you." It was a lie. The reason was that I had no idea how to get to Kuchinashi from here, and even if I did, there were probably Grimm in the forest, or even worse, White Fang members. If a huntsman came by, I'd probably ask for the kindness of his heart in escorting me to the nearest settlement with a functioning CCT relay and promise a reward in the million Lien.

I was a master in the ancient art of hovering around people without actually impeding their movements. I had worked in a kitchen for a while too, so I knew my way around. I did wonder how Ashelyn could go about setting cheese slices on platters and cutting up cured hams without actually take a slice for herself. It wasn't like they'd know if she did that, no?

Yet she wouldn't, and the mere suggestion had her aghast. It was-It was really that bad.

"My mother made me promise on her death bed that I'd always be good and kind," she whispered. "And good things would happen to me if I did that," I felt my heart clench a hundred times stronger than before. It wasn't going to happen, Ashelyn. Nothing you dreamed of was going to happen.

My throat dried up. "I'm-I'm sure good things will happen."

Because I was there now, and I'd make sure things would get better.

Or at the very least, not be as bad as they had any right to be.

The first time I stepped outside the house, passing by the kitchen's backdoor, I ended up walking by Ashelyn's side as she showed me the village. She was done with the chores for the day, and as such, she wanted to go visit her mother's grave. Since I needed to at the very least know how the village was, and I was tired of being cooped in, I followed her.

I didn't have the sword by my hip -Ashelyn still refused to tell me where she had hidden it. A small part of me thought that perhaps she was doing it on purpose to keep me around. I was helping her out, but it wasn't enough to justify it. Perhaps she just wanted the company. I couldn't fault her that.

"If we see, or hear a Grimm, we can just run," Ashelyn muttered as I simply nodded back at her.

The grave was a short distance away from the settlement itself, and while I was nervous about White Fang members combing the woods, I didn't really look all that much like the long lost Schnee heir anymore. My hair was an ashen, matted grey from the ashes of the kitchen's fire, and the clothes I wore were old and while treated with great care, age had taken its toll on them. I was also slightly more gaunt than when i had been in captivity under the White Fang.

Seriously, I'd raid an apple orchard worst than a swarm of locusts if I could only find one.

Ashelyn's mother had a simple enough grave. It was just a stone marker, and a small tree growing near it. A couple of birds were perched over the tree, chirping gently at her arrival.

They flew off when they realized I was with her.

"Hello mother," Ashelyn whispered, kneeling in front of the grave. "Things are nice in the village. The fair's coming soon. I'll be sixteen just like you were when you met dad," she added, "I really hope I can meet my prince charming."

I was inwardly wondering just how many people I should kill to protect her smile. Then I realized I wasn't willing to kill the three most necessary ones, so I seriously had nothing but guilt washing over me.

"This is Shade," I heard Ashelyn speak next. "He's been helping me with house stuff," she added. "I saved his life, just like father would-do you think he'd be proud of me? I-I've been a good girl till now, so...so do you think I'll get my happiness too?"

I was biting down on my knuckles, hard.

"Hello ma'am," I said in a low murmur, kneeling on one leg by Ashelyn's side. "I'm Shade," I said in a soft whisper. "I'd-I'd like to think myself as one of Ashelyn's friends now. I can attest that she's been nothing but a kind, good girl. So, if you could send her prince charming along, then I'd be incredibly thankful."

Ashelyn giggled softly from my side. "Thank you," she said simply. "We-We have to go now. I still need to pass by the tailor and see if the dress' done."

I blinked at that. "The fair is soon?" I asked.

"Tomorrow," Ashelyn said.

Tomorrow!?

I needed this information a week ago, Ashelyn! How am I supposed to prevent your inevitable heartbreak, if you don't tell me this kind of information sooner!?

It was going to be a long, guilt-filled day ahead of me.

You can do this. You can do this.

No, I couldn't.

Forevermore, I would be guilty of the blood on Ashelyn's hands. I could say it was because I didn't have a sword, but a kitchen's knife would have served the purpose with equal justice. A cleaver would have worked just as well, if a bit too bloody. There were a lot of things I could have done, like attempt poisoning them or pushing them down the stairs, make it look like a robbery gone wrong, or just plain put keep them hostages by pointing a sword at their necks.

I did none of that, because I didn't have the guts to do it.

I was just a coward in the end. A guilty, weak-willed coward who could do nothing but witness the birth of Cinder Fall.

 

[shadenight123]

Chapter Four

It was a simple looking green dress. It had no frills, nothing fancy, no motifs drawn on it. It was however the most beautiful thing in the world in Ashelyn's eyes. The sheer amount of happiness that the young teen radiated was blinding. Her fingers touched it carefully, as if afraid of ripping it apart.

She had to try it, just in case there were some last adjustments to be made.

The old lady fussed ever so slightly at my sight, but then calmed down when I gave her a gentle smile, and offered a hand in moving some heavy stuff around if she could just make some little discount to Ashelyn's dress.

When Ashelyn stepped out of another small room where she had changed, she looked breathtaking. It wasn't because of the dress, or her natural beauty. It was merely because of the happiness she had within her. The smile was full, and it wasn't the sexy-villain or the sultry witch one. It was a honest, pure smile. She made a small turn on herself, watching as if mesmerized the folds of the dress move.

"Oh, thank you, thank you," she said excitedly. "It's perfect." She clutched her hands to her chest. "It's the most perfect dress!"

I finished moving a heavy crate of tailoring supplies from the top of a shelf all the way down to the ground, pried it open, and then began settling the supplies inside where they were more easy to reach for the old lady in question.

There was little else I could do for the tailor, but it was enough to bring the price down, low enough that Ashelyn still had some Lien left after paying for the service.

"You didn't have to do that," Ashelyn whispered as we stepped out into the street, her dress carefully folded to avoid creasing and placed in a small, nice packaging. "I had enough money."

"I just wanted to be sure you'd have your dress," I answered awkwardly.

"Thank you," she said, a beaming smile on her face as she planted a gentle kiss on the side of my cheek. "I can't wait for tonight-" we came to a halt by the kitchen's backyard, and she froze. She looked ahead of her, at the kitchen's window where a figure was moving within. Hastily, she handed her package to me, "Please keep it safe," she whispered. "I'll come back when it's clear."

And then she hurried inside, while I remained beyond the garden, hidden behind a tree.

I could barely see a figure, but I definitely could hear the screaming that ensued.

"Ashelyn! You had me come down here to get you! I rang the bell for tea, stupid girl! And when I ring the bell, I expect you to answer it!" the screams continued for a while, and since I couldn't hear Ashelyn's replies, it was pretty clear that she was whispering, or perhaps just remaining silent.

I waited, patiently, as time ticked on and on.

My back pressed against the tree, I held my breath as my heart drummed fiercely.

It felt like an hour. It was more likely just half an hour. When Ashelyn came back, she had my sword in her hands.

"I-It's better if you go now," she said. She pressed the Lien she had saved into my hand. "I'll always be thankful for what you did for me." She took the dress in her arms, cradling it firmly.

"I understand," I muttered back, clutching the sword in my hand. "I'll-I'll come by the fair tomorrow," I said in the end. "Save me a dance?"

Ashelyn blinked at that, and then she laughed like an angel, "I will."

She stepped back inside the kitchen, and I walked my way towards the village proper. Finding a place to sleep for the night and some food into my belly wasn't difficult. I had expected worse. I had expected jeering, or insults, but the people were neither evil nor good. And a young man offering to help gather the apples from an orchard in exchange for some warm dinner and a spot in the barn for the night was more than welcomed.

My back and my hands hurt by the end of the day, but I had gathered enough to warrant a warm soup with a piece of hard bread on the side, and a comfy corner of hay with a plaid in case the night got chilly.

My body was sore, my soul was torn.

Sleep came, and it was dreamless. I was thankful for that, because I wouldn't have survived the nightmares.

The next morning, my eyes snapped open to the cry of a peculiarly angry rooster.

I stood up before the farmer could come shake me awake, and got my face washed in the water of a bucket. I took a deep breath and then began my silent vigil. There were three moments I had to keep my eyes on. The day, the departure for the fair, and the fair itself.

Those were the three times in which Ashelyn's family might attempt something. Thus, I found myself a comfortable spot in the dirt by the back of Ashelyn's garden, hidden from view behind a tree, and watched patiently the bustling activity in the kitchen.

The small village was eagerly preparing for the dance, and as I stared into the kitchen, every now and then I'd catch a glimpse of Ashelyn with a smile on her face. She was truly the happiest right there and then.

My stomach twisted.

Nothing happened during the morning. My stomach had learned to stop complaining about me lacking lunch, and as the day left the place to the afternoon, and then the evening, I finally saw movement in the kitchen.

"But you said I could go!" it was Ashelyn's voice, and for the first time, it was loud enough that I could hear it.

"If all the tasks for the day are done, Ashelyn, you stupid girl," another voice sneered, two more cruel voices joining the chorus with laughter. "And you still haven't finished washing all the pots for the day."

"They're filthy!" someone else snickered.

"Like you are!" the other voice added.

I tightened the grip on my sword.

Not yet. The important thing was the dress. The dress had to remain whole.

"We will be going ahead, so feel free to join us, once all tasks are completed!" and with another cruel bout of laughter, truly worthy of evil antagonists that didn't have any remarkable qualities, I heard their voice diminish until I was relatively sure they had left the premises.

That was when I stepped forward, reaching for the kitchen's back door as the evening started to leave the place to the star-filled night.

I knocked on the door, eliciting a surprised gasp from within. A pot rattled, and then the door of the kitchen opened. There were the traces of tears along Ashelyn's cheeks. Her eyes were red, and puffy.

"Ashelyn," I said with a small smile. "Do you need a hand?"

She quietly looked behind her, to where a lot of pots and pans were waiting to be scrubbed clean. Then, she gave me an awkward smile. "I-I was thinking of leaving them for later, Shade."

I smiled at that. "Then, I'll wait for you, if you'll have me for the first dance."

Ashelyn's small bout of laughter was a broken, raucous sob. It was followed by a tearful nod of her head as she closed the door in front of my face.

I plopped my back against the door, and crossed my arms over my chest. When she stepped out, wearing her green dress and no makeup, she still looked as breathtaking as that very morning.

I smiled as I extended a hand palm upwards towards her. "Shall we attend the ball, my fair lady?"

Ashelyn giggled, before taking my hand with hers, "We shall," she added, a wistful smile on her face.

Maybe I had already changed things. By keeping the dress hidden, it hadn't been found, and it hadn't been torn. I couldn't relax yet however. Even as we walked through the village streets, people gathering for the fair at the center of the square and some music getting played on cheap guitars and makeshift drums, I kept my eyes open.

This could go south very quickly.

The sword by my hip drew some glances, but not that many. We were in the middle of the sticks anyway, and a blade by one's side was better than none whatsoever. Once we reached the square's borders, we quietly got in a free dancing spot. It was a slightly fast, yet still easy to follow, village dance. The men would tap their feet against the ground, clap their hands in rhythm, and the women would twirl on themselves.

I fumbled a bit through some of the motions, but they were easy to memorize after a while, and repeated themselves a lot. Ashelyn looked happy about it. She was clearly the center of everyone's attention.

Then, as the first dance came to an end, someone came by.

He looked like a charming young man, with a nice blond hair and a bright white smile. Seriously, the prince charming was real? Where the hell had he been then? Yes, perhaps I had changed things already.

"Can I have a dance?" he asked, and bowed to Ashelyn who widened her eyes before tentatively accepting it. I gave her a grin and a thumb-up, and as I watched her dance once more, I knew she'd be happy.

I sighed in relief.

I glanced around. I was looking for something to drink, since I had been parched since the morning. The well wasn't that far, and the dance would last a few good minutes. I could just grab some water from the well and then return. It would be just a few seconds.

A few seconds, and something might happen. I'd keep my thirst with me.

I didn't want to kick myself in the head over a bucket of water.

I kept my eyes fixed on Ashelyn's form, my fists clenched.

"I was of the impression that village fairs were a time of happiness," a smooth voice spoke from my side. My breathing hitched. I turned to gaze at a womanly figure, sitting there with a wooden cup filled with wine in hand. "You do not look happy." The woman in question had hazel hair, and dark brown eyes. She wore a nice, evening dress that shimmered softly.

Fear clutched my heart.

"You look positively afraid," she added next, staring into my eyes. "Why is that?"

"You-You came out of nowhere," I muttered back, my heart threatening to burst in my chest. My eyes back on the dance floor. Where was Ashelyn? "I-I have a friend I need to protect-" she wasn't on the dance square any longer.

No. No-no-no.

"Your anger is palpable," the woman murmured. "Would you like to know where they went? You may still be in time to save her from her fate."

I looked at her, "Who are you?"

"A friend," she added with a smile that said anything but friendship was on the table. "I was passing by," she added, "And I saw someone look miserable, so how could I not intervene to help? I saw where they went, and you'd better hurry rather than tarry with the likes of me."

"Where did they go?" I asked next.

"Now, I never said I would tell you for free," the woman said, amused. "I will help you, if you will help me."

I blinked at that. "I-I'm just a kid."

"Perhaps," the woman acquiesced, "But I can see in your eyes something that isn't childish at all," she smiled as she said that, "you want revenge, so hateful you are-why, it is a surprise no Grimm has come for this quaint little village yet."

"Whatever you want, I'll give it to you," I said. "Just-I need to know where Ashelyn is."

The woman chuckled. "I do so enjoy a man who knows the right words to say." She smiled the next, "They headed for the forest, there is a stream nearby, I think."

I nearly jumped off the bench I had been sitting on, when the firm grip of the woman clasped my wrist and the hold itself was like a steel vice. "Remember what you promised me, boy," she spoke. "Because I will make sure you never forget it."

"You have my word," I muttered frantically, "But please let me go."

She let go of my wrist and I dashed off. There was a forest and there was a stream. I knew there was a small bridge with water passing underneath it on one side of the village, so from there I just had to go down following the coast until I found or heard what I was looking for.

They hadn't gone far, thankfully.

The jiving screams and the cruel taunts were what led me to the scene of my greatest failure, however.

I should have kept a stronger eye on her. I should have known. There weren't just prince charming in the world. There were also cruel fake-princes, meant to lie, cheat, and get things from people with the use of cruelty and frauds.

"Rip her dress to tatters!" a woman's voice hissed.

Why did people have to be so cookie-cut evil? Cut your losses. For fuck's sake, cut your losses.

"Enough!" I snarled as I came into the edge of the clearing, the stream gurgling nearby. There were two girls, both wearing beautiful embroidered dresses and cheering on two equally charming boys as they apparently had begun ripping Ashelyn's dress into tatters.

The boys stopped, and then looked at me. "Ah!" one of them laughed, "The pipsqueak with a sword!"

"Shade!" Ashelyn cried out, tears in her eyes. "I-"

"You think he knows how to use it?" the other snickered. Both were in their twenties, at the very least. They looked fit. They looked arrogant.

I wasn't looking at their faces anymore.

I couldn't see their faces, even if I tried.

My right hand gripped the blade by my side. I couldn't even think of them as humans any longer.

No.

No-it wasn't-

This wasn't-they weren't White Fang-they weren't the masked monsters that-

I unsheathed the sword and held it in front of me. "Leave her," I hissed out. "Or die."

It had to be my eyes. It had to be the glare. It had to be the hoarse, croaked whisper that swore that I would do it if they didn't. It probably was the sword. When faced with someone with a sword, the best solution is to just cut your losses.

"Let's go," the one that had been the Charming Prince said, "Not worth it any more."

They left for the village once more, my eyes on their retreating backs. Then, I turned my attention to where Ashelyn was standing on her knees, holding what remained of her dress up, her tears rolling down her cheeks as her whole body trembled from sobs she could barely hold back.

"Ashelyn," I whispered as I drew closer, kneeling by her side, "I'm so sorry-I-I lost sight of you and-"

Her arms engulfed my neck as she cried into my shoulder, my eyes wide before I returned the desperate hug. Her grip tightened as her tears began to dry. "I-" she croaked out, "I want them-"

I held her gently, my free hand not holding the sword caressing her hair.

"I want them to pay for what they did," she hissed into my ear. "I want them to suffer like I did," she gasped for air, "they-they will never be punished unless we do it ourselves."

"Ashelyn-"

"Would you like that?" the woman of the bench, the one person I dreaded and made my heart feel like ice, appeared from the side of the forest. Her eyes were now glowing a slight red color. The iris was black, and yet the eyes glowed. Her skin was starting to turn unnaturally pale. Her fingers were clasped together as she slowly advanced towards us. "I was merely passing by," she added in an amused tone, "who would have thought that I could find such incredible determination," she spoke gently, amiably, like any good-willing aunt would to their favorite nephew, or niece. "Such righteous desire for justice."

That's a lie, Salem. You know it. I know it. We're both dead meat. We're both going to die.

She came to a halt near us. The hand holding my sword was trembling. She looked at me, a smile on her lips. "Now take those thoughts away," she said, freezing my veins with the barest of hints of what she could do. "I am beyond you."

I had no doubts about that.

My hand let go of my sword within seconds, automatically. My body did it on reflex, and the tip pierced the ground.

Salem's attention turned to Ashelyn next. "So, young woman," she spoke, "Think of me...as a fairy godmother," she added with a smile on her face. "Come to show you how the world truly is. And how the kindness you have so much held within you gave you nothing back. Do you want them to pay, Ashelyn?"

Her left hand moved gently upwards, and the tattered green dress fixed itself up.

It also changed color.

It became red.

It became red like the furious anger that simmered within her frame.

Ashelyn's right hand clasped mine, tightly.

Till the very end, I hoped she would not say it. I wouldn't be able to stop either of them. I wouldn't be able to save anyone. I was literally going to die if I did anything other than remain quiet. Salem was standing in front of us. She could just as easily pulverize me as she could kill or chop Ashelyn's head off.

"Yes," Ashelyn said. "Please."

Salem laughed, "So polite," she added with an amused smirk on her face. "Very well."

The screaming.

The fire.

Ashelyn's house, burning up in flames.

"Shade," Ashelyn whispered hoarsely, her hand firmly clenched around mine as I had followed along, in utter silence, something dying within me that very day. "I don't want to be Ashelyn anymore."

I watched the roof of the house cave in. I watched it fall down. I watched the broken pieces of wood burn as Grimm rampaged through the village, the cries dying out to be replaced only by the victorious howls of the monsters of Remnant having triumphed once more.

"Call me Cinder," she added, her grip as tight as she could make it. "It's all that remains of me. Cinders."

"Poetic," Salem's voice came from behind us. Her eyes fixed on us both. Beowolves came to a halt behind her, growling and showing their teeth. Yet, they did not attack. "Now come with me," she added, a large shadow blotting the sky as a Nevermore landed nearby.

Unless you prefer to die.

That last part was left unspoken.

This wasn't how I planned my life on going.

This wasn't how I could have conceivably planned on it going.

I-I didn't want to be the baddy...

...but there was a time and a place for everything, and this wasn't it.

 

[shadenight123]

Chapter Five

Flying on a Nevermore's back wasn't a happy experience. It was terrifying. It was nothing compared to the sky turning a dark shade of red, or the land giving place to cracked and broken ground on which crystals grew and Grimm by the score trudged about.

When we landed, Ashelyn's-no, Cinder's hand found mine once more. We stood on a large circular platform, an airship docked nearby. "Make no mistake," Salem spoke curtly. "You will be of use to me, as I have been of use to you, or you will be discarded."

Which meant dying.

It was pretty clear that it meant dying.

"I am not an unfair taskmaster, however," she spoke as we walked into a long hallway. "I will not set upon you tasks which are unfair, or which are meant for failure."

I was listening, but I was also looking around. The ceiling of the hallway was so high I had to strain my neck to see just how high it went. There were candles lit across the walls, and they seemed to burn without melting the wax. My eyes took in everything they could. It could just as well be the last thing I'd ever see.

When we stepped into what looked like a meeting room, my eyes glanced to some people that were indeed familiar to my sight. There was the burly form of Hazel Reinhardt sitting on a nearby chair, the mustache-twirling Arthur Watts in front of him, and the cackling Tyrian Callows was instead perched on his own, his scorpion-tail out and swishing right and left.

Nobody spoke at first. Tyrian simply cackled. His eyes shone with unspoken promises of murder. "Fresh meat," he giggled under his breath, breaking the silence as Salem sat down at the head of the table. "My goddess, what is to be done?"

"I have returned from Mistral," she spoke. "The Spring Maiden remains hidden even from Leonardo, but he has graciously offered his own huntsmen and huntresses as collateral. Hazel, Tyrian," she clasped her fingers together. "Coordinate with the cowardly little lion, and make sure no friend of Ozpin remains in Mistral," her eyes narrowed. "Are we clear?"

"Crystalline," Hazel grunted.

"The will of the Goddess will be done," Tyrian cackled.

"Shall I be the one to ask of the elephant in the room?" Arthur asked, glancing in our direction.

"They will be a fundamental part of our future plans, Arthur," Salem acquiesced. "Have some of your machines prepped to teach them the basics. If they show promise, I will take a personal interest in them. If they do not, and prove disappointing..." her voice trailed off. "But I am sure they will not disappoint me."

Arthur said nothing.

They were all dismissed with a simple wave of the hand.

Arthur came to a halt by our side, looking down on us with a barely noticeable look of disdain. "Follow me," he spoke. "I will show you to your rooms and then I will show you where you will be expected to be every morning, and every afternoon, until told otherwise."

Cinder's hand squeezed mine as we walked behind the man. "In order to make this babysitting task the least annoying as possible for me, I would prefer it if you didn't speak unless talked to, and when you do, you may refer to me as Doctor Watts. Are we understood?"

"Yes, Doctor Watts," I said while swallowing back a grimace. Cinder dutifully repeated what I had just said, her eyes focusing firmly on the man's back, as if attempting to burn him alive with her gaze alone.

"Good," the man nodded. We walked across hallways that seemed all identical, until they suddenly weren't. We were a few floors below the ground level, and as he pointed at two equally distanced doors, we each opened one to reveal equally dusty rooms. These had to be old guest quarters, or the servants' rooms. Or at least, they had to be the rooms used in the past by whoever serviced the giant castle-like structure.

Now, they were empty.

"I will show you where you are to come tomorrow morning," Arthur continued. "The earlier, the better."

We climbed back up. Our silence apparently pleased the man, because while he didn't become talkative, he also wasn't excessively brusque. The room we stepped into was circular. Lights hung from the walls and a glass ceiling cast down a grisly crimson light.

"Tomorrow, you will begin training," he acquiesced. "If you have any questions, I would suggest bothering someone else."

I raised a hand all the same. He looked at me, annoyed, but gave a small nod. "What was your doctoral about, Doctor Watts?"

The man raised an eyebrow at the question. He then smiled, if briefly. "Finding the precise line which divided an android from a man replaced with prosthetic machinery," he placed a hand to twirl a corner of his mustache. "Those fools of Atlas didn't understand the benefits of a human fully transformed into a war cyborg," his face grew shadowed. "But it is not like you could understand such complicated things." He shook his head once. "Remember the way. Memorize it. You will not like getting lost around these parts."

With that, he turned and made to leave. "How will we know it's morning?" Cinder asked. The Doctor turned, a scowl on his face. "Doctor Watts," Cinder added. "How will we know it's morning?"

"Someone will fetch you for breakfast tomorrow morning," Arthur spoke. "The pantry is stocked with food and I am sure I will have to provide you with Scrolls. I do have an older model you can share," he looked at where Cinder was still holding on to my hand. "But let me give you a friendly advice, since you seem quick on the uptake."

He looked at us both. "Do not displease her, and nothing bad will happen to you. However, make no mistake. What she asks, you will deliver. And if you think you can run away, well...other people, better, stronger huntsmen-they have tried, and they have failed."

"Who...who is she?" Cinder asked.

Arthur chuckled at that question. "You do not know? Then, why should I be the one to tell you? You will either find out by yourself, or she will tell you."

He walked away, leaving us both in the empty training room.

"We should catch some sleep," Cinder muttered, tugging me along.

"Cinder," I muttered, "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Cinder answered. "Just-this is a lot to take in, and I could use some sleep."

Finding our way back wasn't easy, but neither was it difficult. She wasn't wrong that we needed to sleep, if tomorrow was anything like what had been implied. We could count on some kind of breakfast, however, and it was the small things that mattered, right?

The small things. The nice things. The good things.

I blinked as I realized Cinder wasn't letting go of my hand after we had reached our rooms. "Cinder?" I muttered. "You...Do you want to sleep together?"

"Yes, please," she murmured. She squeezed my hand tighter still.

Thus there we were, in a bed that I had managed to dust off by virtue of multiple sneezes and which Cinder had tried her best to make presentable.

Cinder didn't fall asleep quickly that night. She just cried. She just cried drowning her sobs and hiccups into my chest as I kept my arms around her, gingerly rubbing her hair as she let go of everything she had been holding in until then, every single moment, every single bit, every instant or shred of guilt, grief, sadness-she threw it all out.

Then she fell asleep, and I quietly stared at the ceiling until sleep caught me too.

What woke me up was loud knocking.

I scrambled on my feet with my sword in hand. There were no such thing as pajamas in this place. There weren't any toiletries either, I reckoned. Still, Cinder was quickly behind me as I reached for the door and opened it as fast as I could.

Then I took a step back. The one fetching us for breakfast wasn't a person. It was a Grimm. It was a horned Grimm with a terrifying skull-like face and short, stocky legs. It had unevenly long arms, and laughed maniacally as it hopped on its spot ever so briefly. Then, it began to move.

"I think we should follow it," Cinder said, shaking ever so slightly before taking the lead. I followed behind her, my thoughts still in disarray from the sudden shock of seeing a Grimm at an incredibly short distance.

Was it weak? Was it strong? Could it be killed?

Would Salem know my thoughts, or just the general impression behind them?

Breakfast would tell.

The pantry, true to form, was big. There were many cans of food, meant for long preservation and easy to cook provided one had some heating source available. There were stacks upon stacks of bottled water, as well as some bottles covered in dust filled that had once been wines, and were now probably poisonous vinegar.

My eyes fell to a bag containing some powdered black coffee. It was going to taste horrible, but I just knew I needed something to pick me up after everything that had happened. Cinder, however, had grabbed a box of powdered chocolate, and was looking at it with pure delight on her face.

I stopped my fingers from grabbing the coffee.

I grabbed some hard biscuits, and then quietly we followed the Imp-Grimm through the pantry and out into a small room that had some kind of Dust-powered stove. There was no milk to be had, but that was our first breakfast in the realm of Darkness, in the land where the sun didn't properly shine, under the watchful gaze of Salem.

We had hot chocolate and hard biscuits...

...and it was the only sweet thing of the whole day.

 

[shadenight123]

Chapter Six

I had a sword which I had no idea how to use. It very quickly proved to be no better than Cinder going at things barehanded, because the results were pretty much the same. We ended up in the training room facing two identical-looking robots. I would have said they were an old version of the Atlesian-Knights, and while they were jerky in their movements, they were still better off than either Cinder or I were.

The sword didn't break, but its edge chipped. It was pretty clear it wouldn't hold on to continued abuse, and as such I ended up discarding it in favor of getting hit in the face, or hitting back with my bare knuckles, metal enemies that didn't feel pain and didn't look like they'd be stopped by two teenagers attempting to fight them off.

We couldn't fight off a blind, three-legged dog, so I sincerely doubted we'd be able to do anything to the robots in question.

I lost a couple of teeth during a particularly heated exchange of blows, my knuckles bleeding red from pain. Cinder's body was a combined mass of welts and bruises, but she had started dodging blows. I had instead opted for taking them.

Mine was not the wisest of decisions. It definitely wasn't, but it was the only thing I had going for me. I was used to getting hurt, so what was a couple more blows sent my way?

"There is some progress, but not much," Arthur Watts grumbled. "Perhaps a different method would be more effective," he remarked one fine morning, a week having gone by.

I was definitely sure he was just getting bored of letting his old, rusty machines beat us up. Still, not once did anybody suggest we start fighting one another. It was strange. I would have expected some level of cookie-evil where we'd have to fight one another, but it just didn't happen. Perhaps it was just something that Salem didn't care about, or perhaps she was keeping it in reserve for later.

It wasn't like we had met her again after that fine harrowing night. Whatever she did in the privacy of her rooms and her office, I was wise enough not to ask.

The new method didn't involve any kind of training from hell. It involved a Grimm. It involved a Beowolf, to be more precise. It involved a Beowolf, and it involved us having weapons. There actually were training weapons in the castle. We could have used them, had Arthur told us about them before beating us up for a whole week with his machines.

He didn't look saddened by the fact he had forgotten to mention them earlier. If anything, he looked incredibly smug about it.

There was nothing to be said about Cinder's desire to take twin metal swords as her weapon of choice. The fact was that old as they were, they could apparently be merged together to form a bow of sorts. I had gone with a similar weapon, if with a neat distinction.

Whereas her twin swords became a bow, I had a single two-handed sword that could eject the metal blade like a missile. It could then call it back through a chain hidden within the hilt, and that was pretty much all it did.

It was better than nothing.

Still, these weapons while old were also incredibly more robust. They actually worked well enough too; not like we could have gone with more complicated weapons when Arthur didn't really have the time to explain things to us dunderheads.

He had more important work to do, he had business to attend to, he was too intelligent for us, we'd lower his IQ if we stuck near him-and then I'd ask a question about his application of prosthetic implants to allow newborn infants born with genetic defects to live a normal childhood, and he'd speak about it. His research was his weak point. The fact that he had been exiled from Atlas because of some mismanaged experimentation was the sore point that could never be breached, but as long as the topics veered towards his research, he was actually happy to speak his mind out.

I reckoned he didn't really have many people to talk to, all things considered.

At least, people who could somewhat understand what a Mechanical Torsion Meter was, or why torque was an important part of building any functioning prosthetic, and didn't immediately fall asleep when he mentioned the hydraulic pressure of non-Newtonian fluids. Cinder wasn't interested in that. She was more keen on beating the Grimm and the androids down one after the other, slicing through them, chopping them up, doing her very best to prove that she was growing leaps and bounds rather than merely surviving from lesson to lesson.

I followed her in that.

Fighting the rusty humanoid buckets was only a small part of what our training regime ended up becoming. It wasn't because Arthur told us what to do. It was because we had to do it by ourselves, and so we did everything imaginable, ranging from lifting weights to doing push-ups, to running laps around a large table for half hours, to pretty much practicing our fighting styles against one another-and the list kept going on and on.

There was the desire for power, yes, but there was also something else. Cinder wanted power so that she would never feel afraid ever again. I wanted freedom for us both.

Still, Salem remained quiet, and non-existent.

Yet she most definitely had to be lurking the castle. There were Grimm every now and then wobbling by across the halls, but they didn't attack us. They also didn't seem to like to wait on us either, so if they had to go somewhere, they would even if they had to shove us aside or walk over us.

It was three months later.

I knew because I had been keeping count by making small lines on a piece of paper I had found in a corner of the room I was sharing with Cinder. We both had our own rooms, but Cinder refused to sleep anywhere but next to me, and even when she had begun getting into the training routine, growing desperate for more power to hold, she still didn't want to sleep alone.

I was probably some kind of psychological teddy bear to her half-fractured psyche. It wasn't really her fault, even though it was. It was complicated. Salem could have destroyed the village regardless of whether she said yes or no to her, but because she had said yes, she felt equally responsible for the tragedy that had occurred. Not the death of her family, not that of those bullies that had broken her dress, but sometimes, in the middle of the night, she'd wake up sobbing about the kind elderly tailor, or the apple field farmer that had been kind to her with extra apples, and then she'd need someone to rub her hair and whisper that everything was going to be okay.

She wasn't a monster, she wasn't fully responsible. Did she even have some responsibility?

No. Not yet. Her hands hadn't done anything.

Would they? That was the question I needed answering.

That was the question that Salem would give me an answer for, because she had summoned us both after three months.

We did not die as soon as we stepped into the meeting room, though that could have merely been because she wished to draw out our fear beforehand. She had an amused expression on her face, sitting as she was at the head of the long table. Her red eyes stared into the depths of mine for the briefest of instants, before flicking off to concentrate on Cinder.

"Arthur reports that you are doing progress," she spoke gently, like a kind aunt would. It was all a ploy that hid the evil within her. "And I am pleased by that. Soon, I will have tasks for you to undertake beyond my domain, tasks I assure you, that you will be capable of completing."

I remained quiet. "But make no mistake. Though your leash will be long, it is still a leash that ends when I pull it," she tapped a single finger of her hand against her armchair's armrest.

We both crumpled on the ground.

It wasn't even something that you could fight. It was as if we were puppets whose strings had been cut. The weight that settled on our chests, on our backs, on our every inch of flesh was so grievous it was hard to breathe, much less think.

Then she tapped her finger again, and the sensation came less.

"I can give you everything your heart desires," Salem spoke gently once more, soothingly like the most adored of grandmothers, "But never forget that the path to your desires comes through me."

I was barely on one knee when I realized that Cinder hadn't moved from the ground, her hands clenched into fists.

"Oh, I can sense your desires very well, young Cinder," Salem said, "I can sense what you want, and I can give it to you."

Her eyes flicked towards me next. "And in you, young Shade, I see such a powerful darkness-such an incredible terror and such selfish thoughts-" my face must have betrayed something, because a smirk settled on her lips next, "your insight is truly fascinating. Your face may attempt to hide it, but your soul tells me all I need. You were terrified of me when we first met, true, unblemished terror. It was not a simple fright, and even now-even now you are not surprised. Cinder-she is terrified. You, on the other hand...are merely afraid."

She tapped her finger on her armrest once more, and this time only I fell on the ground. "How could you know, I wonder?" she tapped her finger once more, and I held back a hiss as I felt my body spasm. This wasn't simple weight being added to my body. This was like being on a torture rack, somebody giving turns with gleeful love.

"Who could have told you?" she mused. "When would you have known?"

With each question, my body was pulled more.

"Please don't hurt him!" Cinder found her voice, her hands grabbing hold of me, even though the feeling I felt wasn't stopped in the slightest. She wasn't pulled along, but Salem merely tapped her finger once more on the armrest, and the pain I felt came less.

Then she flicked her index finger, and Cinder flew to the opposite side of the room, impacting against the ground with a sharp thud.

"I appreciate honesty in my retainers," Salem spoke. "So, if you will answer my questions, and you will answer them honestly, perhaps I may refrain from using other, more harmful measures."

My throat dried up. "I-I just..."

Salem raised an eyebrow. "You're the lady in the tower," I blurted out.

That stopped her.

"I am the what now?"

"The...the lady in the tower. The trapped lady that was saved by a knight facing off dragons and-and then battling with him on great adventures, but-but then the knight died, and you went evil and ended up cursed by the gods and-and you want your revenge on them," I swallowed as I said that.

Salem raised an eyebrow. "That may be so," she said, sounding tentatively unsure of herself. I was still scared out of my wits, but the nudges of relief were starting to form within my body. She turned a thoughtful eye over to the slumped form of Cinder. "And how would you have recognized me, then? When we first met, I was not like this."

"I wasn't terrified of you," I stammered out, "But of people. The-The White Fang," I hastily grabbed hold of my branded hand, "They-I thought they were hunting me, I was...I was jittery. Nervous-the whole time-and..."

Salem rested her chin on her open palm, her fingers gently tapping the side of her face. "I see," she mused.

There was now amusement in her voice. "And tell me," Salem said, an amused smile on her face. "Are you afraid of me because the Gods cursed me? Do you believe the wise, powerful Gods were right?"

"No," I muttered, "I-I don't think they were. I think...I think they were assholes," as I blurted that out, Salem's smile was still there. "But...my fear is because...I don't understand." I swallowed. "Why do you hate us, when we did nothing wrong to you? Aren't..." I was going to die. I was going to die so horribly, it wouldn't even be funny. "Aren't you being just like them, by condemning us for...for having done nothing to you? If you just want your revenge, why not kill the Gods alone? Surely, there has to be a way that makes everyone happy."

I was dead.

I knew I was dead.

I knew I was going to feel my head roll off my neck.

I knew that this was how I died.

Salem was no longer smiling.

Though she was, indeed, thoughtful.

"Such naive childishness is the privilege of the young," Salem mused in the end. "You will still be of use, however never forget what transpired today." Her eyes narrowed upon me. "For as I can be convinced of someone's innocence, all too easily can I discover the truth beneath someone's lies or attempts at hiding reality and make my punishment exemplary for them."

"Y-yes," I said with a stammer, "I'll-I'll keep that in mind."

I quietly moved to where Cinder was unconscious, hoisting her up before starting to leave the premises in a hurry before Salem changed her mind.

I wasn't going to look at a gifted extra day of life in the mouth.

"Remember," Salem said as I was about to leave. "There is no place on Remnant I cannot reach," she quietly added. "So tread carefully with your thoughts, because your mind is one of those places."

I knew that was a lie. At the same time, I wasn't going to discuss sophistry with her.

I bowed as reverentially as someone holding an unconscious young woman could, and then hurried away.

Also, I needed a cup of hot chocolate.

It worked with Dementors, so it had to work with Salems' too.

Unfortunately, there was one thing that made Salem worse than Dementors.

She could talk, and sound convincing.

Having hot chocolate with a veritable millennia old genocidal monster was not how I envisioned spending my afternoons.

Salem, on the other hand, wished to correct Cinder and mine false assumptions on the goodness of her character.

I had a mouth, and yet I could not scream.

 

[shadenight123]

Chapter Seven

Cinder had grown sullen all of a sudden. I didn't know if it was because of Salem's words, or because we actually had another meeting with her after such a short time, but for whatever reason she wasn't talking as vivaciously as she previously did. Well, it had been a work in progress. From the silence of the first days, she had gotten progressively back into some kind of slightly normal character, and then the meeting hall events had happened, and she was back to being quiet unless directly spoken to.

I had a cold cup of once hot chocolate in my hands. It was the only thing keeping me warm.

"Myths, legends, they do have a trace in reality, but that is usually all there is," Salem spoke amiably, as if telling a beautiful story to her children. "Just a trace. A faint one at that, for truth can often be disappointing. Why else would legends exist of shining knights, or wicked witches, if not to glorify the winners of conflicts, and dehumanize the losers?"

If I remained still enough, she wouldn't detect me. She had to be a T-Rex like entity, I would hope. I wasn't even daring to take a sip from the chocolate mug in my hands. If I did, she might realize I was present and then turn her full attention onto me. I was happy being ignored, a wallpaper, a fly-a pretty flower pot.

Yes, I'd be a pretty flower pot.

"I once was an innocent young girl, trapped into a tall tower by my father for refusing to marry whom he wished me to," Salem acquiesced. "Then a callous man came along, and strung me with fake promises-" Cinder was listening, though she was appearing sullen about it. "He swore we would be together forever, and I believed him. The fool that I had been-I believed him when he said that his love for me would last beyond death itself."

She smiled, and it was a sad, sorrowful smile. "He was a liar, as I would soon discover."

She looked down at her flawlessly untouched cup of tea. "A sickness took him, and I went to beg the Gods to bring him back. I was willing to do anything for him, anything just so he would walk by my side again. The Gods refused, and I was so angry at them, not because they refused-but because they toyed with me. Like sadistic, angry children they showed him to me, only to destroy him in my arms again," Cinder's eyes were wide. Her hands were clenched on her knees. "They did so repeatedly, and then they cast me out after cursing me with immortality, so that I could never rejoin him again."

I raised an eyebrow at that.

All good lies had a smudge of truth in them. This one just had a good dose of it.

"I spoke to the great kings of the humans of the Gods' arrogance, of their evils-and they agreed that they had to be stopped. A great army marched to face the Gods, but it was for naught. They were all annihilated. All of mankind, gone in the blink of an eye with but the snap of a finger of the God of Destruction," Salem whispered that part with a flawless poker mask. "And I was left to roam Remnant, alone, for millennia."

I understood that one could catch more flies with honey than vinegar, but this was starting to sound tragic, and not for the good reasons.

"But then he appeared, my beloved knight, and only too foolishly did I accept him back into my life, not truly knowing the depths of his evil," Salem's voice was firm as she spoke now, as if the sheer remembrance was enough to reopen old wounds. I didn't really think that would be the case. She also hadn't mentioned dropping into the pool of evil, or how she'd ended up controlling the Grimm. "He proposed a great plan to me. If I would gain control of the Grimm, and use them against the people-then we would appear as shining heroes, and become the beloved leaders of the new humanity that had formed."

She showed contrition, as if the thought of ruling over humanity made her sad. "I was in love, and love made me blind and foolish."

She took a sip, a calculated sip of her tea. "When I realized what he had me do, when I realized what had happened-I confronted him. He told me it was the will of the Gods, to see mankind subjugated anew. He had been brought back by them, just so he could guide humanity into venerating them once more. I was aghast, I refused him-" she shuddered, "And he-he took our four beautiful daughters and turned them against me."

She let her cup of tea fall back on its neat platter. "I could not die. He could not die. Our daughters...could, and did," she took a deep breath, her face returning to its cool indifference. "He still lives, a parasite moving from body to body, always in a position of power, always attempting to bring the Gods' worship back, and always being fought by us, to prevent it."

She smiled. "I am a harsh mistress, but I am fair. Obey me in what I ask, and you will be free to pursue your desires. When presented with the truth, many of his servants change allegiances. Those that do not are fanatics, unable to accept the reality of his lies. Ozma was his name, and now Ozpin is the name he calls himself. It is a war that which are fighting that has gone on for thousands of years...and slowly, but surely, we are winning it."

My chocolate mug was now an utterly solid block of cold chocolate, and I had no intention of attempting to sip on it.

I'd have more luck biting on it.

"And once that happens, mankind will be freed from its tyrant, hiding in the shadows of his prized huntsmen, and its academies that hold more power than the governments themselves-and rule Remnant in the place of its people," Salem finished speaking, and her eyes moved from Cinder, who was quiet, but with mystified eyes having drank avidly from the cup of the bullshit, and then they moved towards me.

I quietly settled the cup on the table in front of me.

"I...I want to believe you, but I cannot believe what I have not seen with my own eyes," I said in the end. "I-I will go where Cinder goes, and do what Cinder wants to do, but...since you can read my mind, it's useless for me to hide it," it was a lie, but well-placed, because it reinforced the idea that Salem had me in her grip, whether directly, or indirectly. "I owe my life to her. Everything I do...I'll do for her."

"Very well," Salem nodded. She raised a hand, and nothing happened. "I do not punish those who are honest with me." An Imp-Grimm hopped in from outside the office. "I have prepared a new training regimen for you, to which you will dedicate yourself. Cinder will learn from me, privately, and you will shadow Hazel and Tyrian once they return from their latest mission."

I slowly stood up, bowing my head and then giving one last look at Cinder, who returned it with a spark of something within her eyes. Something I couldn't quite place, not just yet.

The Imp-Grimm hopped out of the office as I followed him, closing the door behind me slowly, and carefully.

The new training regimen involved live-Grimm fighting to kill me.

I had no Aura.

Truly, Salem was a secret Priscilla.

This land is peaceful, its inhabitants kind...

...tell it to the Beowolf that wants to eat my face, for fuck's sake!

 

[shadenight123]

Chapter Eight

The first rule of the Grimm fight club was that you had to duck. The second rule of the Grimm fight club was that you had to keep your guard up, at all time. The third rule was that you didn't get to tap out until they were satisfied.

The invisible, sadistic ring leader was probably Salem, and if not her then somebody like Tyrian or maybe even Arthur. I didn't know, perhaps the Grimm were merely enjoying themselves. They would growl and step inside the training room one, or two at the time. They would snarl, if they so felt inclined to give me a warning, and then they would lunge and attack.

These weren't happy, fluffy black beowolves either. This were big, angry, snarling creatures that had survived for years perhaps, and their crimson eyes and white masks were morphed nearly always in ferocious-like forms.

They would bite. They would claw. They would actually kick if you let them. The blows I gave them had to be brought with all the strength I could muster, or they wouldn't cut through the thickened hides. Sometimes, the bastards would even parry my blows and claw me back in that moment of surprise.

I had learned from that.

I had learned from that as I hissed, Cinder patching my body after a particularly rough session that resulted in claw and bite marks all over my body. They could have easily snapped my arms, or gouged my innards out. They hadn't, but that didn't mean they hadn't made it hurt.

"How are your private lessons going instead?" I asked, watching Cinder carefully use a ball of cotton to spread the disinfectant over one of the largest wounds. It had stopped bleeding, but it still stung. I needed some armor. I definitely needed to find some armor in this place.

"There is so much knowledge that has been lost to time," Cinder said with a small smile. "Salem knows so much," she bit her lower lip, "but the story she told us, do you really think it's not true?" she looked straight into my eyes.

"There are always two versions of a tale," I muttered back, hissing as the cotton ball passed over another wound. "Everybody is a hero in their story. I'm not going to bother with whether it's true or not, because it doesn't change the fact that even if it weren't, it's not like I could do anything about it."

Cinder swallowed as she moved to one of my arms, where a bite mark remained still neatly visible. "You..." she hesitated, "Do you regret it?"

"Coming here?" I muttered, "One should only regret the things he has the power to change," I mused. "And the only thing I decided to do was go to a ball with you, and that one I do not regret, Ash-"

"Cinder," Cinder said flatly, her fingers slightly trembling. "It's Cinder, Shade," she whispered. "Please don't call me that ever again. That naive, foolish girl is dead. Dead and buried."

"Then I will mourn her loss," I whispered back. "For the beauty of her smile was impossible to deny."

Cinder's cheeks flushed. "Oh you," she muttered, she shook her head. "There, the wounds are clean," she said, before moving to grab the bandages, "I'll have to tighten them, so stay still."

I didn't actually have anywhere else I needed to be for the time being. My eyes settled on the ceiling until Cinder was done, and once she was, I dimly realized it still wouldn't fix the tattered condition of my clothes. Yet Cinder had the solution for that too, because she pulled out a needle and some thread, and began to stitch the cloth back together.

"This used to be my father's," she muttered as she finished stitching up the dark brown leather jacket. "I wonder..." she mumbled. "He was a huntsman. He died...do you think, maybe?"

"Probably," I acquiesced. "If it were the Grimm...then yes?"

Cinder clenched the stitched up jacket. "He was Ashelyn's father. He wasn't mine." She mumbled, "I have no father." She handed the jacket back to me. "I-I have to become even stronger than I am."

One of my arms gently encircled her shoulders and pushed her closer, my hand rubbing her hair. "You already are strong, definitely stronger than me," I added.

Cinder's head dropped down on my shoulder, a deep breath leaving her frame as she closed her eyes. "I want to be strong," she whispered. "I want to be feared. I want to be powerful." She dropped one of her hands on the back of one of mine. "I don't want a prince to come for me." She tightened the grip on my hand. "I want to be the one in control of my life."

She slowly sat back up, and then gathered the first aid kit, the needle and the thread, and stood up. "I have to train and become more powerful than I am now, and you should do the same, Shade."

"I will," I answered as I watched her leave.

The first thing was finding armor. That proved to be the easy part, because there were literal suits of armor just hanging around. The problem was that most of them were occupied by Grimm who didn't look kindly at a young upstart wanting one.

It was kind of like doing a lobotomy, if one where I used a large two handed sword to strike through an open slit in the armor, and then heard the satisfying shriek of a dying Gheist, which would then make the suit of armor collapse on itself.

Still got me an armor, all things considered.

It was heavy, it was cumbersome, it wasn't what I could use.

At least not without modifications.

"A forge?" Doctor Watts had come to tolerate my presence enough that, if I knocked incredibly politely at the door of his office, he would answer with a 'Come in if it's urgent' rather than a 'Go die in a fire' most often than not. It was still a fifty-fifty gamble, but this time he was the only one I could ask the question to, and the only one I reckoned knew the answer to it.

"I wanted to make an armor," I said in answer. "Maybe attempt to modify my weapon a bit, add a loading chamber for Dust rounds, maybe inscribe the blade with Dust," I muttered. "But I'd need a forge for that. Does this place have one?"

"There is one," Arthur remarked. "It should be easy to find if you circle around the castle, but as for there being supplies...they may or may not be nearby, and if they are not, then you will have to order them yourself." He raised an eyebrow. "If you know what to do, of course."

I grimaced at that. "I don't."

"Then, rather than seeking a forge, seek a blacksmith," Arthur said pointedly. "Hazel and Tyrian shall return within the week's end with their latest report of their success," he pointed out. "You are to go with them. I am sure if you appeal to Hazel's foolish kind heart, he will allow you to find a blacksmith to better equip you."

"But I kind of need some armor right now, or the Beowolves are going to eat me alive soon enough," I grumbled back, arms crossed. My eyes went to a nearby monitor, flickering with data. The head of an Atlas Knight was near it, looking at the room as more and more data piled up on the monitor.

"That is on you to solve, not on me to provide a solution," Arthur remarked. "Though there is always an alternative, but I am awfully low on anesthetics."

I looked at him. "That's the prosthetic research you were doing, right?"

"Indeed," he acquiesced. "I brought the prototypes with me when I left Atlas," Arthur remarked. "Of course, not all test subjects survived the initial implementation of a cybernetic spine, but those who did would have been quite capable of defeating barehanded a grown Beowolf-" he sighed.

"If subjects died attempting that in a sterile room in Atlas, what actually makes you think that repeating it here would work better?" I mused. "I'll gamble on Hazel's good heart. Seems like an easier bet to win."

"It is your loss," Arthur remarked, "Now, I have work to do, and you are cluttering my workshop."

I left with the sack containing the armor on my back.

I had just enough time to get some food in my stomach, and attempt to strap on a couple of too-big-for-me gauntlets, before a new round would begin in the afternoon.

I wouldn't fall into the ploy of becoming dependent on someone's else care, especially not the likes of Arthur. If I couldn't make things myself, then I wouldn't trust anyone else with them. My distrust must have been apparent, or at the very least palpable, for as the training of the afternoon came to an end, Salem walked in.

She didn't look amused, nor angry. She simply stared at me, breathing from the effort and using my blade as a crutch to hold myself up. The Grimm that had remained lined against the walls lunged as a single individual and I screamed as I grabbed hold of my blade and swung it around me, letting the mechanism go so that the rattling chain could make the blade spin like a deadly thresher.

Then, my blade slammed on the ground near me, and I was utterly exhausted. "One should always finish their enemies," Salem mused as she stepped closer still. She came to a halt right in front of me, and extended a hand to grab hold of my chin and lift it up, so that my eyes would stare into hers. "You will be going out into the world soon," she said gently. "When you first came to me you were terrified, weak, and yet brave enough to be honest. Make no mistake," her lips blossomed into a smile that had nothing of gentle into it, "There is a thin line between bravery and foolishness, and it is a line all too easy to cross."

I realized the armor that was in the bag, and the gauntlets covering my arms were floating in her right hand. They heated up, and melted. Then they reformed. I held perfectly still as the armor in question latched on to my skin, forearms, leg-protectors, chest-plate and shoulder-protectors.

Salem, you ain't my Goddess, and I wouldn't be your knight even if you were.

She chuckled as I glanced my armor, befuddled from the suddenness of it all. "There is always a price," she said. "Even when it comes to gifts," her right hand touched my cheek, and I froze as I felt heat leave her palm. "You will accompany Hazel and Tyrian," her lips placed a kiss on my forehead, and heat blossomed through my whole body as I felt something burn, my soul igniting as if on fire. "And they will have orders to let you deliver the killing blow to their next target."

She smiled as she moved her fingers to trace a line across my cheek. "Or you will die."

She tapped my nose, and then stepped back.

I stared at her, my heart drumming and my mind catching up to what she had just said.

The training room doors opened as Ursas began to trudge inside, accompanied by Beringel and other, tougher Grimm.

"Can...Can I ask one thing?" I said, barely catching my breath.

Salem raised an eyebrow, but then slowly nodded.

"Is it worth it?" I asked. "Standing over everyone, ruling over everyone-doing it alone. Is the loneliness worth it?"

A scowl formed on Salem's face, it lasted only briefly, but I saw it. "I am the last member of my race," she answered plainly, "I would not seek the company of the people of today no more than you would seek the company of a dog. A pet good for passing time, but nothing more."

"It...still sounds incredibly sad," I pointed out.

Her left hand's index and thumb clenched, and air left my lungs. I gurgled for air, my eyes wide.

"The distinction between bravery and foolishness, Shade," Salem hissed softly, her crimson eyes burning, "Learn it well."

I fell down on my knees, clutching my throat. "Honesty..." I gritted out, "You said...you liked honesty."

Salem took a deep breath, and released her magical grip on my airflow.

"I did say that," she mused. "Now, I leave you to your training. Do not disappoint me."

She walked out, and the first of the Ursa began to prowl forward, baring its teeth.

The Aura within me burned...

...just like the wounds I received soon after, because I didn't know how to get my Aura-Shields up!

 

[LordOfPears12]

A look into the future (Omake Non-Cannon?)

Wren let out a blissful sigh, sun, beaches and cute cat girl with tails. What could a man hope for more? Those tails were mesmerizing slooshing around in the air without a care, free of the world's problems. Truly a poetic sense was contained within them.

He really enjoyed his current location even though everywhere was better compared to hell's abridged version on earth. The spire and the Grimm lands weren't bad per se but there was a limit on how much you could stare at purple and other dark colors.

Nonetheless, days weren't boring at all in the spire unfortunately, he could thank his 'uncles' for that. He let out an even bigger breath thinking about them. He was so grateful to them that he even made a personal tier list regarding them.

At the top was Hazel, he wasn't at the top because he treated them kindly or with a gentle hand, you thought wrong most of his lessons involved a plain beat down until you were a breathing carcass with more than half of your bones remaining intact and that was just, in fact, if it was one of the good days.

The second spot belonged to Arthur Watts, who differently had a very diverse training regime that involved a lot of dodging and evading of missiles, laser flying drones after he deemed the old atlas models that they faced inadequate. All of this was done wearing special equipment that nullified their aura, his trademark smug always present during his 'courses'.

The last but not least Tyrian, what did he do? It wasn't what did he do, it was what he made them do. Throwing him and cinder in a pit and letting them fend off a never ending tide of Grimm for a full whole day wasn't the most pleasant of experiences. He constantly mumbled about apex predator after he fished from the hole he threw them in.

He let out a mental curse regarding his uncles, no wonder they sided with Salem they were sadist the lot of em.

Thankfully his mood was improved as one of the catgirls he encountered gave a small wink to him and he reciprocated with a wave and a bright cheery smile. Everything was perfect except for a small little detail, more specifically a gaze that he felt bored onto the back of his head since he arrived there.

"Shade, dear could you please wait at the cafe in front of us. I have an affair that I must urgently attend to" the person in question said with a sweet tone but hiding beneath it was an underlying meaning that implied it as an order.

"And please stay put, I will arrive shortly" the voice hissed further as Shade started walking.

Shade arrived at the mentioned building named Le blanc pretty cliche he thought. He noted that it was one of the best looking ones, fancy chairs and tables with ample space and a balcony with flowers on the upper floor.

He waited, resting his back against the wall of the building waiting for his partner to return and while staying alert, he wasn't on Menagerie for a vacation despite his desperation in wanting one. He was here because of a particular announcement regarding all of the kingdoms. Specifically about a particular piece of news that involved the cooperation of all the kingdoms in building another big city. Atlas spearheaded this idea and to show their investment in this project they sent one of their top architects and invited all of the remaining kingdom's representatives. Menagerie was obviously offered one of the seats as they offered to host this meeting.

Salem, of course, didn't find this new development pleasing to her ears so she sent Wren and Cinder to make sure Atlas' representative would be caught in a small incident. Leading the kingdoms to play the blame game among them, slowing heavily the initiative or even halting it altogether.

His musing was interrupted by a couple of people that stopped in front of him they were two girls Faunus with big fluffy tails.

"Are you a hunter?" one of the girls Faunus asked.

"Of course silly sis. Didn't you see his body and his weapon" Said sultrily the other fox girl as she stepped close, her tail just a short distance away from his skin, threatening to wrap him around it.

"Why don't you tell me how proficient you are with your weapon and how many Grimm you have faced" the girl that stepped in closer added, putting a hand to his chest.

"Yes, I'm a hunter and I inform you that I'm proficient in wielding my weapon and about the g..." He couldn't finish as an intense bloodlust was directed at him, sending a chill down his spine. He felt a hand on his shoulder and a pointy tip poking his back. The earlier girls nowhere to be seen, already fleed for their lives.

"My, my dear can I perhaps have a word with you? I leave you alone for fifteen minutes and this is the result. Get in, we need to discuss something," A voice full of anger came from behind.

Some Faunus stopped by and seeing the drama and coming to an understanding of the situation they all started making 'whipping' gestures towards Wren.

After Wren shot them a glare they all started whistling and looking elsewhere. Afterward ignoring them he stepped in the cafe, Cinder standing just behind him.

They took a seat at one of the tables in a remote area, away from prying ears. A server arrived a short while, asking for their orders.

"Two hot chocolates for me and the lady" ordered Wren. The orders arrived immediately.

"Have you got the info?"

"Yes, I've received it from my contact, the atlas' representative is being housed in the mayor's villa. The area is heavily secured with a dozen atlas soldier and menagerie guards patrolling around it," Cinder responded.

"Hard task, how do we complete it?"

"I was thinking about a stray arrow or an assassination with white fang uniforms, something that won't be pinned on us"

"Good ideas, it seems that this task will be a simple one," Wren let out a breath of relief.

"Now now how about discussing what happened earlier, Wren dear," Asked Cinder in a sickly sweet tone. Wren gulped, tensing and trying to shrink in size in his seat.

"Cinder we surely mustn't cause a scene right, we're supposed to keep a low profile after all," Wren responded.

"It's about the tails right!" Said Cinder as she slammed her hands on the table. "I know you've been eyeing them the whole day, Do I need to implant them to make you happy?" She said with a glint in her eyes and a crazed tone of voice.

Wren spluttered on the floor the chocolate he was sipping, coughing, he eyed the server and muttered a quiet sorry. The server gave him an understanding look.

"How about I handcuff you to me? It seems that even a minute away from me will cause trouble." Added Cinder. Serious in considering her idea.

"What... do... you... think my little bird?" Said Cinder in a sing song voice as she glared at Wren.

Wren didn't know what to respond, flabbergasted at her change in attitude and her suggestions. The former had his appeal, the later not so much.
He retreated to his happy place.

Just what did he do, to deserve all this?

XxX
Sorry I had to do this.