SAPR: Interlude 2 - Vale

[ScipioSmith]

The Silver Swan​

Although it was still late summer, and fall had not yet crept upon the world, nevertheless, the air was chill and crisp as everyone waited outside the funeral parlour.

It was probably appropriate.

Everyone – everyone bar the Atlas Academy students, Sunset should say; they wore their uniforms – wore black, or something close to it, although it had clearly been a bit of a scramble for some to find something black – or dark grey – that they could wear.

Pyrrha, as it turned out, had a mourning dress, with a high collar that concealed her entire neck, little lace cuffs at the ends of her long sleeves, and an A-line skirt that went down to her ankles, revealing only the black, high-heeled shoes upon her feet. Her face was covered by a black veil, thin enough that it didn't hide her face completely but thick enough that it did distort the sight of it. She had foregone her usual striking wings of eyeshadow, as well as any other makeup or lipstick that she was sometimes wont to use to enhance her beauty. Only the smell of her hair remained, from the expensive shampoo that she had not replaced just for this one day.

Sunset was, she confessed, a little disconcerted by the fact that Pyrrha had a mourning dress… but at the same time, in light of the present circumstances, it now seemed a very prudent thing to have in her possession. Sunset wished that she had one.

As it stood, she was wearing a plain black top beneath her leather jacket and a pair of dark-coloured jeans upon her legs; she looked, she admitted, less like someone going to a funeral and more like someone who couldn't decide which subculture they wanted to belong to.

Jaune was wearing his armour, which conveniently covered up the bunny rabbit on his otherwise black hoodie, and had exchanged his blue jeans for black ones that were actually in a much better state of repair than the pants he normally wore; he should wear them more often.

But then, if he'd done that, it might have looked disrespectful to have not changed at all for the funeral.

And as for Ruby… well, Ruby wasn't able to be here right now.

Sunset shivered in the cool air, and as she shivered, she felt a desire to leave this place.

Everyone was standing in front of the funeral parlour; or at least, everyone who was physically able: Sunset, Jaune, and Pyrrha of Team SAPR; Weiss, Cardin, Flash, and Russel of Team WWSR; Yang, Ren, Blake, and Nora of Team YRBN – even if it didn't always seem as though that was the team to which Blake belonged; Rainbow Dash, Ciel, and Twilight of Team RSPT; Trixie, Tempest, Starlight, and Sunburst of Team TTSS; Arslan Altan of Team ARBN; Applejack. Everyone who had fought at what the news was starting to call The Breach was here. Everyone who could be here.

Ruby was lying in a hospital bed, comatose, unmoving and unspeaking; Penny was lying in a room aboard the Atlesian flagship, badly damaged and in need of repair. Neither of them could be here today, but everyone else who had been there, everyone else who had fought together to protect Vale from the grimm that had burst out into the centre of the city, they were all there.

They were just waiting upon Team BLBL… what was left of Team BLBL.

I shouldn't be here, Sunset thought. She felt like a murderer returning to the scene of her crime. Or worse, like the murderer who insinuates themselves into the victim's family, becoming a friend and a confidante, a tower of strength in their time of grief… a time that they, the killer, have created.

Sunset shuddered. She wasn't that bad. She wasn't planning to get any closer to the remainder of Team BLBL than she had ever been.

But all the same, she felt as though she ought not to be here.

But it wasn't as if she could stay away. She could – and would – stay well clear of all the other funerals, for the five other people who had died as a result of Sunset's decision to blow open The Breach and save the lives of her friends; she wasn't some voyeur, to turn up to strangers' funerals, especially when the strangers were dead in consequence of her decision, but this… this was different. This was Sky Lark's funeral, a Beacon first-year just like her, someone who had died fighting at the Breach alongside her and everyone else here.

Someone who had died fighting to correct the consequence of Sunset's decision.

She couldn't stay away. Not when everyone else was going to his funeral.

It wasn't as if they could ever know that Sunset was the reason why he had died.

She didn't… she wished that things hadn't turned out this way, but at the same time… Sunset glanced at Pyrrha, her face concealed beneath her veil. If she hadn't done what she had done, if she hadn't pressed the trigger and set off the mine, then they would be having six different funerals in Vale.

Seven. I make seven. She didn't count herself as one of the people for whom she had set off the mine, one of the six whom she had saved in exchange for the six who had died, but at the same time, she did count: there would be seven funerals instead of six.

She wished that things hadn't played out the way they had, she wished that Sky and the others had not died, she wished that nobody had been harmed in The Breach, but she could not take that next step, as logical as it might seem a step to take, and say that she regretted causing The Breach.

Because to do that would be to regret the lives of her friends, to wish them dead, and she… she could not do that. Not for Sky, not for six lives, not for Vale… not even for the world.

Sunset shivered once again. It was ironic, after a certain fashion: her semblance was a sort of empathy, and yet… and yet, she did not care.

No, no, that wasn't true; she did care… or, well, she was sorry about their deaths, she knew that she had done the wrong thing in causing those deaths, it was just that…

She couldn't really say what it was. It was all a tangle in her mind. She regretted, and she did not regret. She knew that she had done wrong, and yet, she would not do right if given the chance.

Six people had died. Six lives lost by her action. And yes, Rainbow said that it was likely that Cinder would have carried out her plans with or without Sunset's cooperation, and she was probably right, but all the same… Sunset had pulled the trigger.

And yet, when she considered the alternative: Pyrrha dead, Jaune dead, Blake dead, Ruby dead, Rainbow dead… it was too terrible to contemplate. It was impossible that she could have made any other choice, impossible that she would now make any other choice.

She had made that choice, she would make that choice, because she loved her friends more than she loved those whom she was sworn to protect.

In Mountain Glenn, on the night before the battle, Sunset had been alone on watch and had found herself admitting – to herself, if no other – that she resented the possibility that her friends might have to die for the sake… for the sake of ordinary people. Of people whom she did not know, of whom she knew little or nothing.

She had wondered then if that was such a terrible thing? If it even rose to the level of injustice? If she was really required to care for those whom she fought to defend?

The Breach, and her choice that had led to The Breach, provided at least some answer: if you didn't care, then you did not defend.

Except I did. I fought as hard as anyone.

I fought to clean up the mess that I had made.

She had resented the fact that her friends might have to die for Vale, and in consequence, people in Vale had died for her friends.

"I was a carpenter."

"I was a housewife."

"I was a butcher."

"I was a waitress."

"I was a clown."

"We were those who trusted huntsmen to keep their vows."

It was… it was an eerie thing, but in Mountain Glenn, in the midst of that grim necropolis, she had imagined the voices of the dead crying out to her, their tongueless mouths given voice once more, and they had proclaimed to her their occupations. The same occupations as those who had perished as a result of her act. And Sky, of course, made six.

Sunset had not sought to visit death or destruction upon Vale, but she had done so in a small degree, because she was not willing to sacrifice for it.

Because she did not hold that Vale was worth the sacrifice, at least not the sacrifice of Ruby or Pyrrha or the rest.

Ruby or Pyrrha or the rest, of course, would not agree with her. Well, Ruby, Pyrrha, Jaune, and Blake would not agree with her, and in all likelihood, Applejack would not agree either, although Sunset didn't know her well enough to put the words into her mouth.

Rainbow Dash agreed with her; in fact, Rainbow seemed less troubled by her conscience in this business than Sunset was. Sunset suspected that she had lost someone, although she wouldn't say who, and it had soured her on the idea of dying for a noble cause. The only valid reason to cast aside your life, according to Rainbow Dash, was to save a life… and while it might seem that they would have been doing just that, saving Sky and the five others who had perished, that was where Rainbow's insistence that Cinder would have carried her plans forward regardless came in. Per Rainbow, their deaths would have accomplished nothing; therefore, saving their lives had been the right call, for all that those whom Sunset had saved would not agree.

It was a comforting thought. Sunset wished she could have embraced it wholeheartedly. Sadly, she was clever enough to understand what 'rationalisation' meant.

She had not made this choice after considering the balance of probabilities; she had not come to a conclusion after rational analysis. She had… she had acted on impulse, because she loved her friends and would not see them die, certainly not die in the dark with no chance of escape.

It had been a question of us or them, and for Sunset… there had been no choice at all.

That… might or might not make her a bad person; she had acted in her own self-interest – people did that all the time and were not called monsters for it; albeit, their self-interest took less… deadly forms for those around them. Nevertheless, what Sunset had done might not make her a monster… or it might.

Though Sunset would not do right, nevertheless, she could not convince herself that she had not done wrong.

It might or might not make her monstrous. It might or might not make her a wicked person. But it certainly did not make her a huntress. A huntress, a true huntress like Ruby, would have felt – as Ruby would certainly – that there was no choice at all.

A true huntress would have scorned Cinder's choice and faced their end with courage down in that tunnel.

A true huntress would have gone down swinging… but they would have gone down nonetheless.

The thought revolted her. At first, Sunset had told herself that her impulse had been – at least in part – driven by the effects of their confrontation with Salem, when the dark mistress of the grimm and their ultimate adversary had put into her mind visions of the deaths of all her friends. Perhaps that had had something to do with it, but at the same time, even now at a remove from that experience and from the malign influence of Mountain Glenn… Sunset felt nauseous just contemplating it. To throw away your life, to break the hearts of those who loved you, to leave your parents bereft, the promise of your life unfulfilled, your line ended, and all for what? For the old school spirit? Because it was expected of you, of your position, your line, your chosen occupation? Because it was what you signed up for? Because you should never back down from a fight?

If that was what it meant to be a huntress, then what it meant to be a huntress was… in Equestria, from whence she came, it was understood that everypony possessed a gift to the world, symbolised and represented by their cutie mark. It was not, as it was often simplistically taught to young fillies and colts, simply a matter of what you were good at – after all, a pony could have many talents; Princess Celestia, for example, was a good and wise ruler, a patient and understanding teacher, a scholar, an archmage, and the ruler of the sun, only the last of which was represented in her cutie mark – or even of what you enjoyed doing. It was more than that, deeper than that; your cutie mark represented what you had to give that none other had: no other pony could bring light to the world like Princess Celestia could. Everypony had such a gift, something to offer, something that only they could give, and although the people of Remnant did not have cutie marks – although they were very attached to their personal symbols – Sunset believed that the same principle applied here. If Ruby died, if Pyrrha died, then their gifts would be lost, that which they had to offer the world would be lost, and it would be bereft of all that they might have given had they lived. Sunset didn't want Blake to go to Atlas, but with her head, she could admit that Blake would probably do very well in the north kingdom, might even rise to high rank and great power. But not if she died, if she perished in a futile gesture, like Olivia refusing to summon aid in Ruby's book, then all of that promise and potential would be gone.

Which was why in Equestria, they did not consider death something to seek or welcome.

But what about Sky's promise and potential? What about the gifts to the world of the waitress, or the butcher, or the housewife or the clown or the carpenter?

Well… yes. Quite. That… that was the flipside, wasn't it?

Sunset was quite aware that if she were on the other side of this equation – if she were Bon Bon, and one of her team had died because of Sunset's choice – then she would hate Sunset for what she had done; she was aware that her decision was not defensible on a strictly objective set of moral standards. She was aware that, if she were on the other side, she would stop at nothing to make Sunset pay for her actions.

But she wasn't on the other side, was she? She hadn't been in Vale when someone else blew open The Breach; she had been down in the tunnel… blowing open The Breach.

Saving her friends.

Condemning Sky.

Proving that whatever else she might be, she was not a huntress.

Then what was she? If she was not a huntress, then… what?

Someone who doesn't deserve to lead Team SAPR.

That was an uncomfortable thought, to be sure. But one that was hard to deny. Team SAPR was a team of huntresses; if she was not a huntress, then how could she call herself their leader? How could she call herself one of them?

Rainbow said that they needed her, but Sunset wasn't sure she quite possessed the vanity any longer to insist that was true. If she had ever thought that it was true. She had, after all, taken account of the possibility of her own death and given her voice to Pyrrha in the succession in a letter which, somewhat embarrassingly, Pyrrha had found while Sunset was still alive to have to talk about it. That letter had contained some instructions that were… well, Sunset had planned to be dead before Pyrrha had to duel Yang over possession of Blake like two knights of old fighting for the person they both wanted to marry.

Sunset glanced again at Pyrrha, her face half-hidden behind her mourning veil. Pyrrha was brave, Pyrrha was noble, Pyrrha was kind, Pyrrha was intelligent, Pyrrha came from an ancient line of heroes and of princes; leadership was in her blood. Pyrrha was not a novice to battle, as Jaune was; Pyrrha did not court death as Ruby did. And yet, she did not shrink from it, as Sunset had in the final analysis. Pyrrha would not have pulled the trigger. She would have cast it aside. She would have done so with a heavy heart and mourned the loss of the time that she and Jaune might have spent together, as well as…

Sunset's thoughts came to an abrupt halt, much like the train where her thoughts dwelt so often and so long. Pyrrha… would Pyrrha have done so? Would Pyrrha have done other than as Sunset had? Ruby would have, for a certainty; if Sunset had waited until Ruby reached the front of the train, then she would have condemned them all to die, and done so with a light heart besides, certain that they were doing the right thing, the huntress thing. But Pyrrha? Pyrrha would give her life for a cause, without a doubt; Sunset did not want to say that Pyrrha would die for no purpose, like Ruby would, nor did Sunset think that she, like Blake, would throw away her life simply to prove to herself that she had the guts to do so, to prove to herself that she was a good person. She would die to protect the world, if she came to believe that it was her destiny to do so, or perhaps she should say that Pyrrha would die to protect the world if that was how she could best fulfil the destiny that was in her choosing. If it had been only her life in balance on the train, then Pyrrha would have given up her life, without a doubt.

But then, if it had been only Sunset on the train, then she might… she hoped that she would have made a different choice. A choice made to save one's dear friends might not be moral, right, or honourable, but it lacked the edge of craven cowardice that making such a choice to save oneself was immutably imbued with.

But it had not only been Sunset on the train, and it would not – would never – have been only Pyrrha on the train. Jaune had been on the train too, Jaune would have been on the train in any hypothetical where anyone but Sunset faced Cinder's challenge. Would Pyrrha have had the steel to sacrifice Jaune?

And if she did, was she someone that Sunset could trust to take over the team in Sunset's absence, if Sunset… if Sunset decided that they were better off without her?

Sunset, to put it mildly, had doubts. Pyrrha was noble and brave and willing to sacrifice herself but did not have Ruby's… Sunset liked Ruby – Ruby was sweet and kind on a personal level; Sunset loved her like the sister that she never had – but she wasn't blind to the fact that Ruby's heart was… it was as though by some magic, she had purged it of all weaknesses. She could love, she could laugh, she could smile, she could form friendships, but none of that mattered in battle, none of that mattered when it came to achieving victory, none of that mattered when it came to the duty of a huntress.

Ruby would have weighed the needs of the many against the needs of the few and judged that the former far outweighed the latter.

And that for a huntress, the choice that Cinder offered was no choice at all.

Pyrrha, Sunset deemed, was not made of such stern stuff. Pyrrha was in love with Jaune, and that love… Sunset might say she loved not wisely but too well, but let's face it, if you were going to fall head over heels for someone, you could do a lot worse than to fall in love without someone who didn't have a malicious bone in his body and who treated you like a princess.

Did Pyrrha have it in her to condemn Jaune alongside herself? Sunset didn't know the answer to that – she would have had to use her semblance in order to confirm it one way or the other – but she suspected that the answer was no. It did not follow logically from that that Pyrrha would have done as Sunset had – she did not have Sunset's rashness, nor the impulsive single-mindedness that sometimes drove her to take foolish actions that more considered reason might have counselled her against – but Sunset was quietly confident that she would not have blithely condemned them all to death within the darkness of the tunnel.

Perhaps she would have found a better way, a way that saved the team and protected Vale at the same time.

No, Pyrrha was someone in whom Sunset could place her trust, someone whose conduct might benefit from love but who would not be undone by it. Pyrrha was… Pyrrha was the leader they needed, perhaps. The leader they deserved.

Perhaps Sunset ought to go, leave them to it. Perhaps she ought to go right now, leave without goodbyes that would only invite questions, leave before Ruby woke up, as Ruby would wake up, without a doubt.

Except that Sunset didn't want to leave before she woke up; she wanted to know that Ruby was okay.

But then that would make leaving, if she left, that much harder.

But then… she didn't know what to do. Or rather, she didn't know what she was supposed to do. She knew what she wanted to do: she wanted to stay here at Beacon, with her friends; she wanted to stay at the place that had become home for her. She wanted to stay with those who were most precious to her in all the world.

She wanted to stay here; she just didn't know if that was… right and proper for her to do so.

Since she didn't deserve to be a huntress.

Sunset felt a hand upon her shoulder; she started and was even more surprised when the hand turned out to belong to Rainbow Dash.

Perhaps she ought not to have been surprised. Rainbow, after all, knew what she had done, and although she herself seemed to be taking it all in much better stride than Sunset, nevertheless, she understood what was in Sunset's mind. She was the only one who did.

She was the only one who got it. The only one who could ever get it, because if the others found out what she had done… the fact that Pyrrha might not have been willing to condemn Jaune would not stop her condemning Sunset.

But Pyrrha didn't know. Only Rainbow knew, and Rainbow… Rainbow was giving her an easy ride. The self-righteous stuffing had come out of Rainbow Dash in Mountain Glenn, but Sunset was not altogether sure that she preferred this new Dash. Yes, she was easier to get along with, but at the same time… it was just weird, having her be this nice, especially in the face of the arguably worst thing that Sunset had done.

Nevertheless, Rainbow was being nice about it; her magenta eyes were considerate as she asked, softly, "Are you okay?"

Sunset looked past Rainbow Dash; the funeral parlour was surrounded by a graveyard, or at least by markers for the dead – Sunset wasn't sure that there were bodies buried beneath every one; a lot of people got cremated these days. Nevertheless, she was surrounded by the reminders of death: stones with names and dates and pieces of melancholy poetry engraved upon them, little statuettes of angels or phoenixes.

"I was a carpenter."

"I was a housewife."

"I was a butcher."

"I was a waitress."

"I was a clown."

"We were those who trusted huntsmen to keep their vows."

"Not really," Sunset muttered. "This place gives me the creeps."

Rainbow's brow furrowed. "Yeah, I can get that," she murmured. "It… it's gonna be okay."

Sunset looked into Rainbow's eyes. "You think so?" she asked. Because I'm not so certain.

Rainbow might have meant to reply, but anything that she had intended to say – if she had intended to say anything – was lost as the funeral car arrived. It was not a hearse, there was… there was nothing of Sky Lark to be borne in a hearse, nothing found to prove that he was dead except for the fact that he had not shown up alive, and… and after the fire that the Atlesians had rained down upon the plaza, there was little chance that he would.

Nobody believed that he was not dead. That, after all, was why they were here.

But there was not a hearse. What there was, however, was a black car, the official car, the car for family, carrying within it the members of Team BLBL.

Sunset hadn't known Sky Lark… at all. She hadn't known him, she hadn't cared to know him, she hadn't known anything about him, but now that he was dead, she had found out that both his parents had predeceased him. Poor guy didn't have any family other than this team.

They got out of the car. Professor Ozpin and Professor Goodwitch were with them, both having exchanged their usual attire for solemn black. Professor Goodwitch's green eyes were filled with sympathy as they watched Team BLBL, what remained of it, exit the car.

Professor Ozpin's expression was inscrutable.

Bon Bon's face was so pale that she looked almost like a corpse herself; she stared in front of her, scarcely seeming to see anything. Lyra was in tears; they streamed down her face as fast as she could wipe them away with a handkerchief. She and Dove were arm in arm, and Lyra seemed to be leaning on him for support. Dove himself looked… stoic, as if he felt the need to be strong for his teammates.

Or perhaps he just didn't care as much as they did.

Also emerging from the car was the funeral… director, or officiator, or whatever her official title was, a blonde woman in a top hat and tailcoat for whom they all made way, shuffling aside as she walked to the doors of the red-brick funeral parlour, unlocked the iron-bound wooden door, and opened it up.

The others waited for Team BLBL to lead the way, shuffling inside with slow, unsteady tread, Dove supporting Lyra and Bon Bon looking as though she was scarcely paying attention to where she was going. Nevertheless, they made their way in, and the rest of the students, the rest of those who had fought beside them at the Breach, followed after.

Inside the funeral parlour was not as quiet as Sunset had expected; as they walked in, a wordless guitar song began to play, and Sunset had to assume that it was one of Sky's favourites. The walls of the funeral parlour were bare and unadorned; wooden pews were lined up row upon row, and teams occupied the pews in their fours or their threes. Team BLBL, of course, sat at the front, with Professor Ozpin and Professor Goodwitch sitting across the aisle from them. Then came Team WWSR, and Team YRBN across from them, and then Team TTSS. Team SAPR sat to the rear, joined by Arslan Altan, who otherwise would have sat by herself; Arlsan sat at the end of the pew, nearest the wall, with Pyrrha beside her and Jaune next to her, the two of them holding hands; Sunset sat upon the aisle, while the three present members of Team RSPT sat across said aisle from her; like Sunset, Rainbow Dash took the aisle seat. Ciel bowed her head, and her lips moved silently; Sunset guessed that she was praying.

She would have to pray by herself, because Sunset doubted that prayers would form part of the service.

She wasn't sure what the service was going to consist of. Had Sky been at all religious? She didn't know. She didn't know anything about him. She didn't know how he would wish his passing to be honoured.

Probably, he'd prefer to not be dead, but I screwed that up for him, didn't I? Sunset thought bitterly.

The woman in the top hat and tails had vanished. There was no one Sunset could see to perform the ceremony. If there was going to be a ceremony. But then, they were here for some reason, weren't they?

Professor Ozpin got to his feet. He was without his cane on this occasion; as a result, he moved more quietly than usual as he rose, walked forward a few steps, and turned to face the assembled students.

"We are here today to honour Sky Lark," he reminded them, his voice betraying little grief; Sunset found herself wondering how many such services like this he had attended over the years. Did he remember how many? "Mister Lark gave his life defending Vale from the creatures of grimm and, in so doing, upheld the finest traditions not only of Beacon Academy, but also of huntsmen as a profession, an institution, and a calling.

"Perhaps this ought to be my cue to tell you not to grieve this loss. Perhaps I ought to tell you that we must keep moving forward and not allow ourselves to be slowed down by sadness or the pain of loss. Perhaps… perhaps that would be easier for all concerned, but those of you who knew Mister Lark well would scarcely be human if you could so easily shrug aside your feelings. The fact that we grieve, the fact that we care for one another, the fact that we are driven by emotions rather than the mere biological imperatives, these are the things that set us apart from the creatures of grimm against which we fight, and if we are to prevail against such monsters, it will be because of those same feelings, not in spite of them. So grieve, by all means; it is painful now, I don't deny it, but that pain… that pain is the sign you have a soul." He fell silent for a moment. "I… I did not know Mister Lark as well as I should have liked. Certainly, I didn't know him as well as he deserved, and I have no intention of standing here and pretending to a closeness with him that I did not possess. Therefore, Mister Lark's team leader, Miss Bonaventure, will say a few words concerning his character. Miss Bonaventure, if you would?"

Professor Ozpin stepped away, a grave look upon his face, leaving an empty space at the front of the hall.

Bon Bon took a moment before she even tried to get up. Once she did get up, she moved with that same shuffling, shambling gait until she stood where Professor Ozpin had stood just a moment ago. She looked down at the floor. Then briefly, she looked up to cast her eyes across the assembled group, then she looked down again as, with trembling hands, she reached into the pocket of her skirt and produced a set of flash cards.

They shook in her hands as she looked down on them.

"'How… how lucky I am to have… how lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard'," Bon Bon said, her voice trembling like her hands. "That's, um, that's Sanders the Bear. Sky loved that. He loved Sanders the Bear, and Countess Coloratura, and dim sum, and he loved to draw." She smiled. "Or maybe he just liked to draw pictures of me and Lyra, I don't know." The smile died, replaced by a choked half-sob as though she had tried to cut it off halfway. "I… I know the things he loved because he was my friend. He was my friend. He was my friend, and now, he's gone, and it's all my fault-" The flash cards fell from her limp fingers as she clutched at her face, tears streaming down it.

Dove was on his feet in an instant, crossing the little distance that lay between them, putting his arms around her and pressing Bon Bon's face against his shoulder. Her body was wracked with sobbing.

"He was my friend," she sobbed. "And it's all my fault."

Sunset closed her eyes and bowed her head. No. No, Bon Bon, it isn't your fault at all. It's mine.

She felt sick to her stomach. She felt indecent just being here. She should never have come here; it was wrong of her, it was immoral. Yes, it would have been hard to explain her absence, but it would have been better than this. What right did she have to come to Sky's memorial when she was the reason there was a memorial?

She kept her eyes closed, and her head bowed, and her eyes were still closed when she heard Lyra's voice, raised in song, eclipse Bon Bon's sobbing.

"The silver swan, that living had no note," she sang.

Sunset opened her eyes and looked up. Lyra, too, was on her feet. One hand rested lightly upon Bon Bon's shoulder. She was half-turned to face the others, half looking away from them, and yet, her voice carried to them all nevertheless.

"When death approached, unlocked her silent throat,

Leaning her breast against the reedy shore,

Thus sung her first and last, and sang no more.

'Farewell, all joys," Lyra paused, her voice shaking.

"'Farewell, all joys,'" she repeated, before wiping at her eyes with one hand. She closed her eyes, screwing them tight shut, and her hand fell away from Bon Bon's shoulder.

"'Farewell all joys,'" Weiss sang, her voice as clear as a bell, "'Oh death, come close my eyes.

More geese than swans now live, more fools than wise.

More geese than swans now live, more fools than wise.'"

More geese than swans now live, more fools than wise, Sunset thought. Sounds about right.

And the goose that thought she was a swan doesn't deserve to be here anymore.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Confrontation Conversation​

Ruby was asleep. Or unconscious, it was hard to say which was more appropriate right now. If she was asleep, it was a sleep from which she could not be roused, as though she were waiting for a prince to kiss her awake.

And they had none of those.

That Ruby looked peaceful, almost serene, was something to be thankful for at least. Wherever she was, whyever she couldn't or wouldn't wake, she didn't seem to be in any pain or distress.

The little dog, Zwei, was also sleeping – a true sleep, this time, one from which he could wake up at any time he chose – he presently was curled up on Ruby's chest, nuzzling her pale cheek with his face, rising and falling with Ruby's gentle breathing.

Sunset hovered over Ruby's bed, standing over her, casting a shadow over her and the dog that rested on top of her. She had never enjoyed feeling powerless, and that wasn't something that was changing now.

Your mother's diary talked about the exhaustion of using her powers, but this? She never said that it put her into a coma.

If it had… if it had, you probably would have wanted to go ahead and try for it anyway, wouldn't you? Because that's just who you are.

Too noble by more than half.

Sunset looked down at her hand. She had removed the finger from her wedding glove: she could now see the skin of her ring finger, while the silken finger of the glove flopped limply down. She had thought about trying to use her semblance on Ruby to try and… well, the fact that she couldn't properly articulate what it was that she thought that her semblance might be able to do for Ruby was the reason why she hadn't done it yet. It might – and that was a big 'might' – show Sunset where Ruby's mind was right now, but that wouldn't help to wake her up. It was for that reason that she pulled the finger of the glove back on.

She would have to trust, as they would all have to trust, that this wasn't permanent, that Ruby would wake up in her own time, when she was ready to come back to them.

Yang sat on the other side of Ruby's bed, holding onto Ruby's hand with both of her own. A look of melancholy which verged on misery haunted her face.

Pyrrha stood at the foot of the bed wearing a grave look; in the way that she stood and the look on her face, one might almost have thought that she was still at Sky's funeral, save that she had changed out of her mourning dress. Jaune sat in the other seat, opposite Yang, his hands fidgeting upon his knees, as though he couldn't think of what to do with them. Blake stood against the wall between two of the empty beds in this four-bed room, her arms folded across her chest, a dark look upon her face that had nothing to do with her black hair as her golden eyes were fixed upon Ruby.

Sunset both was and wasn't sure why Blake looked like that; yes, she'd been through a lot in Mountain Glenn, but then, they'd all been through a lot in Mountain Glenn. Perhaps it was the death of Adam or the death of all the rest of the White Fang – most of them, at least – down in the tunnel between Mountain Glenn and Vale that were eating away at her.

Ordinarily, Sunset would have tried to help her. She had tried, she thought that she had tried, to help Blake with her problems, to help her with what was troubling her, just to help Blake find herself, her place in the world, to help Blake the way that Pyrrha and Ruby and Jaune had helped Sunset. It hadn't seemed to work out quite so well.

Ordinarily, Sunset would have kept trying regardless, but right now… after what had happened on the train, Sunset didn't think she was the right person to be trying to help Blake through this particular issue.

Better that she focus on Ruby, until Ruby woke up.

Unless she decided that it was better that she slip away before Ruby woke up.

Either way, she wasn't in much of a position to help Blake right now.

"Is Ruby going to be okay?" Jaune asked plaintively.

"I'm sure so," Pyrrha said softly.

"You don't know that," Yang said, her voice choked. "You can't be sure."

Pyrrha glanced away. "No," she admitted. "No, I can't."

"She'll wake up," Sunset asserted. She has to.

"But you don't know that she will," Yang repeated, with more force than before.

Sunset frowned. "No," she admitted, "I guess I don't." She turned away from Yang and from Ruby. She crossed the ward, passing Pyrrha who looked at her but said nothing, as she went to stand beside Blake.

A sigh escaped from Sunset's lips.

Blake glanced at her but said nothing. Sunset found herself almost grateful for that fact.

"Does this… does this feel like a victory to anyone?" Jaune asked. "Does anyone feel like we won?"

Sunset didn't answer, because the personal answer was 'no.' Whatever Rainbow Dash might have to say on the subject, this did not feel like a victory. This felt… this felt like a defeat, if only a personal one.

Pyrrha's voice came slowly at first. "We… we are alive," she pointed out. "Ruby is alive, and as concerned as we are for her condition, we should not lose sight of the fact that she yet lives." She turned her head a little to look at Yang as she said that. "She will wake, and return to us. There are far worse fates that could have befallen her, or any of us. We live, and Vale lives too."

"People died," Jaune replied, sending a dagger through Sunset's soul.

"And many more did not," Pyrrha insisted. "How many more people might have perished if the Breach had caught the city's defenders unawares, if General Ironwood had not been alerted, if the nearby districts hadn't been evacuated? We could have been looking at the greatest catastrophe to befall Vale since Mountain Glenn fell." She took pause for a moment. "I do not mean to dismiss Sky's loss, or any of those others who perished; I have no doubt that their friends and loved ones miss them as much as Lyra and Bon Bon miss Sky. But the city was saved, and while we did not save it single-handedly through our efforts, without us, there would not have been the warning that enabled the city to be saved. We should take pride in that."

"Do you take pride in that?" Sunset asked softly.

Pyrrha looked at Sunset over her shoulder. She pursed her lips together momentarily before she replied, "I have but one regret in all of this: that I was not able to defeat Cinder Fall, and either bring her to justice or…"

Sunset's brow furrowed a little. "Or?"

Pyrrha took a deep breath. "Or deliver her to the justice of the heavens."

The frown remained on Sunset's face, but her tongue was stilled. With only Jaune and Blake as witnesses, Sunset might have been willing to thrash it out with Pyrrha on the subject; it might be said to be in bad taste to argue at Ruby's bedside, but Sunset and Pyrrha never really did argue, they were so close in outlook – and Pyrrha so unfailingly polite and good-natured… at least when she wasn't threatening to kill Cinder – that any points of disagreement between them ended up being very… sororal, one might say.

But it would be hard to get into the meat of it with Yang around. Ruby had not, in the end, told her sister about Salem, or any of the things that everyone else in the room knew but her. And since that knowledge was pretty germane to the discussion, it would be hard to talk around them.

And besides, right now… Sunset wasn't sure she was in the right frame of mind to mount a defence of Cinder Fall at the moment. Cinder had, after all, convinced Sunset to blow the Breach, causing the deaths of Sky Lark and five other people. Sunset… Sunset hated her for that. Or at least, she thought she probably ought to hate Cinder for that. Perhaps a true huntress would swear vengeance upon Cinder, the same way that a true huntress would have condemned their friends to death.

If so, that would be two strikes against Sunset, because she didn't really hate Cinder for what she'd done. She felt as though she was coming close to hating herself, but she did not hate Cinder. For Cinder, she felt… she couldn't even really blame Cinder, for all that Cinder's words had been pouring into her ear at the time. They had been pouring through an open door, after all; Cinder's words would not have affected Ruby, only someone like Sunset who was susceptible to them.

It would be too easy to blame Cinder for this. By blaming herself instead, Sunset could continue to… to what? What did she want out of Cinder? What did she think was going to happen to Cinder? Why did the idea of Cinder perishing at Pyrrha's hands arouse such distaste and fear in her?

"What about the cost?" asked Blake softly.

Pyrrha hesitated. "Do you mean Ruby and Penny, or do you mean the White Fang?" she asked in a voice as quiet as Blake's own.

"It doesn't matter," Blake replied. "Forget I asked."

Pyrrha glanced downward. "I am… not one to cheerlead," she said, "but we are not without things to be proud of in our performance on this mission. If we fell short of our expectations of ourselves… that suggests that our expectations were too great, our egos not yet curbed by experience."

"Perhaps," Sunset murmured.

She was probably right – at least as far as she, Jaune and Ruby were concerned. They had nothing to be ashamed of. As for herself… Sunset knew better.

The door into the ward slid open with a hiss that attracted the attention of Sunset and everyone else in the room too. Rainbow Dash stood in the doorway, still wearing her Atlas uniform.

She looked at Ruby, her chest rising and falling beneath the blanket and the dog.

"How is she?" Rainbow asked quietly.

"She's… stable, but as you see," Pyrrha murmured, "she hasn't woken up yet."

"And they don't know when she will?" Rainbow said as she stepped into the room. Sunset appreciated that she had said when, not if. The door slid closed behind her.

"No," Pyrrha admitted. She glanced at Ruby, and then down at her feet before she looked back up at Rainbow. "How's Penny?"

"She's… but she'll be okay." Rainbow glanced at Yang, who – much as she was the only person in the room not to know about Salem, was also the only one who didn't know that Penny was a robot. "She'll be okay, but she needs to go home for treatment. So we're shipping out for Atlas; we won't see you guys for a while."

"When are you leaving?" Pyrrha asked.

"In a couple of days," Rainbow said. "We're flying back on the Hope, escorting a civilian liner."

"I see," Pyrrha said softly. She hesitated for a moment. "Could I see her, before you go?"

Rainbow smiled. "Sure," she said. "Penny would like that. In fact, I was going to mention it if you didn't; she's asked after you." Rainbow glanced at Sunset. "More surprisingly, she asked after you, too."

Sunset's eyebrows. "She asked after me?"

"Yep."

I thought she couldn't talk yet. And even if she can talk, why does she want to talk to me? It wasn't as though they were close. As far as Sunset could recall, they had had one interaction that wasn't simply as part of the wider group, one single instance when they had spoken directly to-

"But I'm not human, am I?"

"Do you want to hear a secret, Penny? Neither am I."

Oh. Right. Yes. That.

Sunset's ears drooped. "I… I'm not sure that's such a good idea."

"Sunset?" Pyrrha murmured in surprise.

Rainbow's eyes narrowed, but she didn't argue the point. Sunset would have been grateful for that, except that she suspected that there would be arguing of the point to come, just a little later down the line.

Right now, however, Rainbow looked down at the sleeping Ruby. "What she did there was something else."

"What it did to her was something else too," Yang muttered.

Rainbow glanced at her. "Sure. I guess. But… she'll wake up. She's too tough not to." She turned away. "Anyway, I came to let you know we'd be leaving and to say goodbye 'cause we won't see you now until just before the festival, probably." She nodded to Jaune. "Take care, Jaune."

"Thanks," he said. "You too."

Rainbow grinned. "I thought I might try taking care of other people instead."

She looked back at Ruby, and her boots squeaked on the floor as she stood to attention and swept her hand up to her brow in a textbook perfect salute. Rainbow held the gesture for a moment, then brought her hand back down again and wheeled – with more squeaking of boots – to face Blake.

She marched across the room until the two of them were face to face.

"Blake," Rainbow said. "Applejack and Fluttershy are flying back to Atlas as well, aboard the civilian skyliner that the Hope is escorting to Atlas. If… if you wanted to say goodbye."

Blake nodded. "I will; thank you for letting me know." She blinked. "I'm a little surprised they're not flying back on the Hope where you can keep an eye on them."

Rainbow let out a snorting chuckle. "It did cross my mind, but I won't be far away. And… maybe it would be a borderline case for Applejack, but it would be hard to get a berth for a civilian aboard a man of war; there isn't a lot of space. Plus, the rooms are more comfortable on a skyliner, and I think they deserve that."

Blake nodded. "I suppose you're right." She hesitated. "Rainbow-"

"Blake," Rainbow cut her off, "your agreement with Atlas, in which we agreed to, well, to keep you out of jail, was that you would help us until the threat of the White Fang had been dealt with. I've spoken to the General, and he agreed with me that we can call the threat of the White Fang dealt with."

Sunset's eyebrows rose. Is she-?

Blake blinked rapidly. "What… what are you saying?"

"The White Fang bet the farm on this," Rainbow declared. "All the robberies, all the dust, all the weapons, it was all building up to this. And they blew it. They used up all the dust, they used up all or most of the weapons they stole from us, and they lost most of their manpower. They had their shot, and now they're done. The power of the White Fang is broken here in Vale; this will take them years to recover from materially, and that's without mentioning how bad they made themselves look by letting grimm loose in the city. They're done."

"Cinder-"

"You didn't agree to help us get Cinder," Rainbow said. "You agreed to come and work with us to stop whatever the White Fang were planning. And we did, and you were a part of that." She took a deep breath. "Atlas isn't perfect, but it keeps its word. Or at least, the military does. The General does. I do." Her voice became hoarse as she said, "You're free, Blake. You're not bound to me, or Atlas, any longer."

Blake stared up into Rainbow's magenta eyes. "Free? Is that…" she glanced at Ruby, sleeping in bed, and her gaze dropped. "Free. Right."

"That's right, you're not… you don't have to… I won't… you're free, like I said. You're not bound to us any more, you don't have to have another thing to do with any of us," Rainbow conceded. "Oh, except for one thing: General Ironwood would like to see you. One last debriefing."

"Of course," Blake sighed. "I suppose that that… is about as much as I should have expected." She held out her hand. "Goodbye, Rainbow Dash."

Rainbow took Blake's head, and shook it firmly. "Blake, I… meeting you, I... I hope you're happy." She looked awkward, her body tense and shifting uncomfortably, and when she looked at and spoke to Sunset the relief in her voice was palpable. "Hey, Sunset, can I talk to you for a second? In private?"

Sunset raised one eyebrow, even as she gestured towards the door. "Sure."

They both stepped out of the ward, the door hissing closed behind them, and stood for a moment in the corridor outside. It wasn't exactly private; there was a nurse's station not far away with a nurse at it. Rainbow took the lead, making Sunset trail behind her down the corridor until they came to a pair of vending machines – a free dispenser of tea and coffee, and a brightly lit provider of canned drinks that you had to pay for – standing idle and unattended, with nobody in sight in either direction.

Rainbow gestured to the machines. "You want something?"

Sunset glanced at the bright green can machine. "No."

"Suit yourself," Rainbow said, tapping a couple of the buttons on the free tea and coffee machine to get a cardboard cup filled with something hot and brown and otherwise indeterminate. Rainbow took a sip from it and licked her upper lip when she was done. "So, why don't you want to go and see Penny?"

"Why are you acting so weird around Blake?"

"That's not what we're talking about."

"Maybe we should talk about it," Sunset replied. "You've been clinging on Blake like a… a really clingy thing this entire time and now all of a sudden you're throwing her away-"

"Nobody's throwing Blake away."

"You could only be throwing Blake more away if you told her to have a nice life!" Sunset snapped.

"You were the one who told me to-"

"I wanted you to be a better team leader, not a jackass!"

Rainbow was silent for a moment. "I'm doing what's best for Blake," she said. "I'm… I'm putting her ahead of myself and Atlas. I thought you'd be glad."

"Well… I'm not," Sunset muttered.

"And I'm not happy you don't want to talk to Penny," Rainbow replied. "At least I have my reasons, do you?"

"Does it matter?" Sunset asked. She took a step forward. "I mean, it isn't like she can talk back at the moment, right?"

"Actually, she can… sort of," Rainbow muttered. "She's plugged into… you'll see for yourself when you come and see her."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Sunset said.

"I do; I think it might cheer you up a little," Rainbow said. She glanced at the nurse, who didn't seem to be paying much attention. She also glanced at the storage closet not far away. "Do you want to go somewhere more private?"

"Do we need to go somewhere more private?"

Rainbow glanced this way and that. She drank, and then stepped a little closer to Sunset until they were almost touching.

"Okay, we might need to go somewhere private where this is going," Sunset said.

"Shut up," Rainbow replied. She looked down at Sunset. "So…" She looked away. "So what's this about you not being human?"

"Well, I am a faunus."

"You know what I mean!"

"And you know what I've got," Sunset said. "Did it never occur to you that I might be… from somewhere else?"

"No," Rainbow said immediately. "That would be…" She trailed off. "So it's true, then?"

Sunset nodded. "It's true."

"Right," Rainbow murmured weakly. "So are you going to tell me-?"

"No."

"Right," Rainbow repeated. She gestured at the room they had left. "The others, do they-?"

"Yes."

Rainbow snorted. "I guess I know where we stand then," she muttered, a quick smile crossing her face. The smile faded. "So… this place you come from… are you going back there?"

"No," Sunset said instantly. "No, I'm not." I don't deserve to go back.

"Good," Rainbow said. "You're staying here."

"I didn't say that."

"Well, where else are you going to go?" Rainbow demanded.

"I don't know," Sunset admitted.

"Then stay," Rainbow urged. "Stay here, stay with them. They need you."

"They don't need me."

"Who's going to be leader if you walk off into the wilderness and become a hermit?"

Sunset raised one inquisitive eyebrow.

"You just admitted you've got no ideas; I had to come up with something."

Sunset sighed. "Pyrrha," she said. "She'll take over."

Rainbow shook her head. "Pyrrha's a bad choice."

"Oh, because you're such an expert on what makes a good team leader," Sunset said acidly.

Rainbow ignored that. "Pyrrha," she said. "Pyrrha's great, but she… she wouldn't take care of the others the way that you do."

"What makes you say that?" Sunset asked.

"Because she hasn't taken care of them, you have," Rainbow pointed out. "I… I haven't always appreciated how you chose to do it, but you've always tried, and it… it seems to work out for you, and for them. You've kept them safe, and happy."

"At what cost?"

Rainbow frowned. "You know as well as I do that if we had made all the right moves down in Mountain Glenn – by which I mean pulling out of the railyard once we rescued Applejack and falling back to join Professor Goodwitch on The Bus – then that wouldn't have saved Sky or the others."

"You know what I mean."

"What I think is that the reason you don't want to talk to Penny is that you don't think you deserve nice things," Rainbow declared. "Which is also the only reason you're thinking about leaving, because there are no actual good reasons for it. What do you think is going to happen if you quit? Do you think the missions are going to stop? Even if he lets you out, do you think that Ozpin is going to stop sending Pyrrha, Jaune, and Ruby out like he sent us out to Mountain Glenn? If you want someone to blame for what happened, then how about you blame the person who decided that it was a good idea to send two first-year student teams on a mission-critical recon assignment?"

"Which we volunteered for."

"We're kids," Rainbow said. "We're allowed to make dumb choices. Our superiors are supposed to be a check against that, not enable it." She finished off her coffee and tossed the cup into the green recycling bin. "I asked the General, before we left, why this mission was going to us and not some real Specialists. He told me that Ozpin didn't like Specialists; he preferred to trust students. If you want to blame someone for the mistakes of this mission, how about the person who thought that was a good idea? Do you remember when we told the others about what we'd heard up in the tower? About… you know."

Sunset nodded. "I remember."

"Pyrrha said that we had reached the end of vanity," Rainbow reminded her. "But that wasn't really true, not in that garage. If it had been, then we wouldn't have volunteered for Mountain Glenn. That's where we reached the end of vanity. We shouldn't have been there, and that's what my report will say to the General." She paused. "My point is… you walking away won't bring anyone back from the dead, but it might just mean that the next memorial service is for Pyrrha."

Sunset scowled. "That's a little below the belt, don't you think?"

"No such thing as below the belt if it works," Rainbow said. "You should talk to Penny. She'd really appreciate it, and I think that you'd enjoy it too once you did it. You and Pyrrha could go together." She paused. "Just don't do that thing where you start talking weird like you're doing old-time theatre. You realise you're the only two people who can understand each other when you talk like that, right?"

Sunset rolled her eyes. "I'm surprised you're not worried I'll be a bad influence on her."

"I'm not sure that it's possible to be a bad influence on Penny," Rainbow replied. "She's too much of a good influence on everyone around her. Please go and see her; she'll be hurt if you don't. She won't understand why."

That was unfortunately true. Sunset pouted. She didn't want to upset Penny, and if Penny wanted to see her, then… "Fine."

Rainbow smiled and clapped her on the shoulder. "Thanks," she said. "Thank you. You won't regret it."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Never Without You​

Pyrrha had been here before.

Not 'here' upon the roof of the hospital on which she stood, her glove-enclosed arms resting upon the iron rail that ran atop the low wall which encompassed said roof, but here as in this situation.

When Sunset had been caught in that explosion, she had been here, waiting for her to wake up, waiting as she lay unconscious in bed, waiting powerlessly for some sign that she would wake.

Now it was Ruby she was waiting for, and she had liked it no better than she had enjoyed waiting for Sunset.

In fact, she found that having been through it already seemed to make it harder to bear a second time round.

That… perhaps that was why she was up here on the roof. Or perhaps she had simply felt too awkward to remain in the room with Yang.

With Sunset, she had been alone. With the threat of the White Fang still looming over them, Professor Ozpin had ordered Jaune and Ruby back to Beacon for their own safety, only allowing Pyrrha to remain when she had invoked Mistralian honour to win the right. Pyrrha wasn't sure if being alone – save for flying visits by Blake and Rainbow Dash – had made it easier for her to stay in the room with Sunset, trying to read from the Mistraliad, mentally wincing at the absurd note that Sunset had written in case of her death – a duel with Yang over Blake, of all things! – waiting, hoping, keeping an eye on Sunset constantly for the moment when her eyes would open.

Perhaps it had been easier alone. But the White Fang were defeated now – that was their victory, or at least a victory in which they had played no small part; it might not feel like a great triumph to Blake, but nevertheless, it was something that they could point to as an accomplishment – and with that danger passed, that shadow lifted; as many people were free to stay at Ruby's bedside as they wished. Yang, of course, Sunset and Jaune, and Blake as well.

It was Yang who… that was rather unfair of Pyrrha to think it. Yang was Ruby's sister; she had every right to be there. Perhaps it was simply the way that the elder sister seemed to hold them all responsible.

Or perhaps it was just that Pyrrha felt responsible and blamed Yang for the feeling when the other girl was blameless.

Certainly, retreating out of the room and coming up onto the roof hadn't made her feel any better.

The only difference was that she felt like a coward.

The wind kissed her face, albeit a little less gently than Jaune, and blew through her long red ponytail, brushing her hair this way and that, threatening to send it billowing out behind her in a long tail, although not quite achieving such a thing. It rustled at the teal drops that hung on golden chains from her circlet, sending them tapping at her cheeks as they bounced this way and that.

Pyrrha ignored the sensation, leaving her aura to prevent too much discomfort as she leaned upon the metal rail and looked out.

Vale was spread out all around her, the busy ambulance bay before the doors giving way to the mundanity of the parking lot which, in turn, yielded to the rest of the city rising all around, the great towers rising to touch the sky mingling with the modest brownstones and the red-brick terraces.

It was not so easy to see Vale as it was to see Mistral; it wasn't just a matter of standing reasonably high up the slope and looking down the mountain, but nevertheless, Pyrrha fancied that she had a good view of the city. If she could not see it all, then she could nevertheless see enough.

It seemed so large, and in its size, it seemed, as many large things did, to be permanent, impervious to harm… impregnable. And yet, this vast city, the heart of an even larger kingdom, had been thrown for a moment into the most grave peril.

A peril from which it had, nonetheless, escaped. Pyrrha's green-eyed gaze drifted upwards, following the rising skyscrapers up into the clouds. The sky was filled with them, so much so that it was on the verge of becoming overcast, and yet, between the clouds, she could yet catch glimpses of General Ironwood's mighty warships, their lights blinking upon their dark hulls like stars in the night sky, as they moved above the clouds like leviathans of the air.

Some of the smaller airships descended beneath the clouds, the better perhaps to see what was happening in Vale itself, flitting about the skyline on patrol, their eyes ever watchful.

The battle was won, but it was said that General Ironwood was summoning reinforcements nonetheless; the Valish Council had invited him to take over security for the Vytal Festival, and it seemed he meant to make it very secure indeed.

Pyrrha wondered if anyone else was asking themselves what, with the threat of the White Fang having diminished into nothing and the grimm having already been slaughtered in great numbers, the festival needed to be secured from.

She knew of course. Cinder Fall yet lived. Salem would outlive them all, and the mistress of the grimm might yet gather more of her dark creatures to launch yet more assaults upon the lights of civilisation, while her dreadful acolyte plotted and schemed to achieve… whatever ends had made her side with such a monster.

They yet had need of General Ironwood's protection.

Without the Atlesian forces, without those leviathans of the sky, without the androids and the airships, Vale… there might not be a Vale to host the Vytal Festival. When the grimm poured out of the breach, it had been, in the end, the overwhelming fire of Atlesian warships that had stopped them.

It had taken a vast army to save a vast city.

Pyrrha looked down, her gaze falling in parallel with the wall to reach the ground beneath. No one looked up at her.

She wondered, if anyone was to look up, how small she might look from down there.

As small, perhaps, as Ruby looked in that hospital bed, or smaller still.

A frown creased Pyrrha's features, her brows furrowing beneath her circlet. Would Ruby wake? With good fortune, she would. Sunset had woken, after all, and Sunset had been in worse shape.

She thought so, anyway. Perhaps, at least. It was hard to tell. It was impossible to say for sure. Sunset had been injured in an explosion, which was terrible but at least understood; Ruby had been affected by her own magic.

Magic. Before this year began Pyrrha would not have believed in such a thing. But now, there was Ruby's magic and Sunset's magic and Salem and Relics and-

"There you are," Sunset said.

Pyrrha half-turned, looking around to see Sunset standing in the doorway that led up onto the roof – or back down into the hospital. Sunset let the door swing shut behind her with a dull thud as she walked across the black roof, the slightly springy substance it was made of lending a bounce to her step that hardly seemed to suit the look on her face as she approached Pyrrha at the roof's edge.

The breeze rustled through her long mane and through her tail alike as she came to stand by Pyrrha's side, resting her own gloved hands lightly upon the metal rail. "Hey," she said.

Pyrrha glanced at Sunset. "I know that I shouldn't have left Ruby-"

Sunset raised a hand to cut her off. "It's fine," she said. "Ruby… it's fine."

"If she wakes up and I'm not-"

"She'll understand," Sunset assured her. She paused. "Would you mind if I tagged along to see Penny?"

Pyrrha smiled ever so slightly. "Is that what you and Rainbow talked about?"

Sunset nodded. "Pretty much. If she wants to see me, then… I don't have much excuse for staying away, do I?"

Pyrrha's smile widened just a tad. "We will go together then… in place of Ruby."

Sunset shook her head. "For ourselves," she said.

Pyrrha considered that for a moment. "For ourselves," she agreed. "To comfort a friend is something which we may do, at least."

Sunset frowned. "'At least'?"

Pyrrha took a moment to reply, turning her gaze away from Sunset and once more casting it out across Vale. "It's huge, isn't it?"

Sunset looked out too, her own eyes taking in all of the city that could be seen. "Yes," she said, her voice growing a little hoarse. "I suppose it is." Her equine ears drooped down a little, for no reason that Pyrrha could tell.

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. "It is now believed by some archaeologists and scholars that during the time of the Mistralian War, the time of the Mistraliad, the city of Mistral was only around the size of the city's railway station."

"How big is that?" Sunset asked. "You never showed us the station."

"It is not small," Pyrrha allowed. "Unlike Vale, Mistral has only one station serving the whole city and every conceivable destination, but nevertheless, compared to the size of Mistral – or Vale now – it is rather small."

Sunset considered that, or seemed to. She grinned. "I bet Old Mistral did more for human happiness than a train station ever did."

"Perhaps," Pyrrha acknowledged. It had given them the Mistraliad, after all.

"Although one shouldn't underestimate trainspotters."

Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand as a snort escaped her. "Sunset!"

"I know that you're making your way towards a solemn point," Sunset said, "but that doesn't mean that we have to be solemn every step of the way to get there."

Pyrrha half-turned to better face her friend, the kind of friend she had never expected to find but who, perhaps, understood her better than anyone. "What makes you think my point will be solemn?"

"You've come up here to brood on the rooftop by yourself, staring out across the city, and you expect me to believe there is no melancholy in your soul?" Sunset asked.

"Would you have me get to the point?"

"Not if you wish it otherwise," Sunset said softly. "I… I confess I often find the way that you meander to your points to be quite beautiful. Like a riverside stroll to get to the picnic."

Pyrrha smiled slightly at the compliment, even if the thing she was being complimented on was perhaps not a thing to be proud of. "I was just thinking," she said, "that the age when a city could fit in the space that would now only be large enough for a train station was the age when a great hero, a prince of warriors and men, could do such deeds upon the battlefield that the city of such modest size would stand or fall upon their efforts."

Sunset's voice was soft. "I thought you were the one who thought we won?"

"We did win," Pyrrha said. "But without General Ironwood's army-"

"Without us, General Ironwood's army would never have known what was coming," Sunset pointed out. "And without us, they wouldn't have had time to get into position before the grimm escaped the square." Her ears drooped down yet further into her fiery hair. "One grimm was able to kill five people," she whispered. "Just think what the toll would have been if… if there had been no one to stop them from getting up out of the tunnel, if they'd been free to get into the streets before the Atlesians troops arrived."

"We owe our friends a great debt of gratitude," Pyrrha said. "Yang, Nora, Ren; Arslan, Team Wisteria, Team Bluebell, though we have not been so close."

"Sky," Sunset murmured.

"Indeed," Pyrrha whispered. "May the winds be his wings and carry him to heaven where the gods will feed him nectar and ambrosia."

"Mmm," Sunset mumbled. "So your problem is that we didn't do enough by ourselves?"

"I… I suppose you could say that," Pyrrha agreed. "Without the Atlesians, the city would have fallen."

Sunset was silent for a while. She turned her back upon the city before them and leaned back upon the wall and rail as she thrust her hands into her pockets. "Yes," she relented. "Yes, I daresay it would have. But the Atlesians were here, and the city did not fall."

"And I am glad of it; I rejoice in it," Pyrrha declared. "But if… if armies are necessary, if only an army and all the panoply of war that an army carries with it like a snail carrying a house on its back, can save a city or a kingdom, then what purpose huntsmen?"

"Not every battle can be won by an army," Sunset pointed out. "Not every situation can withstand that sort of firepower being thrown at it. Some situations require a little more finesse." She paused. "The greatest hero of my home is a librarian," she declared.

Pyrrha's eyebrows rose. "A librarian?"

"Well, she's also a princess," Sunset said, which might have seemed to take some of the wind out of her point except that she hastened to add, "but she lives in a library and, to my understanding, acts as the librarian… when she isn't saving the world."

"Your world requires saving?" Pyrrha asked, wondering to herself why, that being the case, Sunset had felt the need to come here to Remnant.

"From time to time," Sunset said softly. "It's less a question of continuous, low-level jeopardy such as we live with here and more long stretches of absolute peace punctuated by the occasional peak of intense peril. You can decide for yourself which is preferable. In any case, the great hero of my home has sufficient leisure to live and work in a library, and to… well, to enjoy a life of leisure otherwise alongside her companions: a farmer, a baker, an aspiring sports star, a dressmaker, and a… a caretaker of animals."

Those descriptions sounded vaguely familiar to Pyrrha, but she couldn't exactly say why. Instead, her voice took on a fond tone as she said, "I think that you are the one who is meandering towards her point now, Sunset."

Sunset chuckled. "Ah, but am I doing it beautifully?" she asked. "My point is that not every situation requires nor can bear an army. Some situations require a hero."

"In your world, perhaps."

"In this world, too," Sunset insisted.

"Such as?"

"An army cannot defend a village," Sunset said. "Armies require too great a concentration of resources, they have too much interdependency, and there are too many villages which may be in need."

"And for such tasks we are suited?" Pyrrha asked. She frowned at herself. "That sounded sharper and more arrogant than I intended. I… I sounded… I did not mean to sound so proud, and yet… could I have sounded any other way? Perhaps I am simply too proud and disgruntled in my pride to find that I have been born too late for my ambitions."

"You have been born too late," Sunset said, "though in your manners and your gentleness, to my mind, rather than your ambitions."

The Evenstar, that gleams late as the darkness closes in. Even my epithet proclaims it.

"And yet," Sunset went on, "I did not mean to insult you, and I am sorry if you took it that way. I would never-"

"I know," Pyrrha said quickly. She sighed. "I just… I have no cause to be vain, now of all times."

"'Now of all times'?"

"You… you have all been good enough not to say so," Pyrrha said quietly. "But Ruby is lying in that hospital bed because of me."

"How do you figure that?"

Pyrrha let out a bitter laugh. "Is it not obvious? I was the one ensnared by that… that grimm, whatever its name may be, I was the one who caught in its clutches."

"So was I," Sunset reminded her.

"Because you tried to save me!" Pyrrha cried. "If I had been stronger and faster, then-"

"Like you should have been stronger and faster against Cinder?" Jaune demanded.

Pyrrha gasped, her scarlet sash flying around her as she turned to see Jaune standing in the doorway, his blue eyes, usually so kind and gentle, close to glowering at her.

He had reason to glower, she conceded, for all that she did not like the sight. Not only had she put Ruby in the hospital through her incompetence, but she had also… she had come very close to breaking her promise to him. So close that the extent to which she might be said to have not broken her promise might seem like mere semantics.

They hadn't talked about it yet. The time had not been right, beneath Mountain Glenn or in the desperate fight to hold the Breach, for obvious reasons.

But it seemed that they were come to the time now.

"I, um, I should probably… does anyone want some coffee?" Sunset asked, with much faux-cheer in her voice. She straightened up, her hands falling out of her pockets. "Great! I'll just-"

"You can stay, Sunset," Jaune said softly.

"What if I don't want to?" Sunset asked.

"I want you to hear this," Jaune insisted. "You're our team leader, so I want you to understand this as well."

Sunset sucked in a sharp intake of breath. "Okay," she muttered, but that didn't stop her sidling away from Pyrrha.

Jaune's eyes didn't follow her, remaining fixed on Pyrrha. For her part, Pyrrha looked down and played with her fluttering sash awkwardly with both hands. She said nothing, waiting for him to speak.

"You made me a promise, Pyrrha," he said.

Pyrrha looked up, and into his eyes. "I did not break it," she whispered.

"No?" Jaune asked, taking a couple of steps towards her. "Fighting Cinder without me, what was that?"

Anger hardly seemed to suit him. He had a face made for smiles, and a voice for laughter and kind words; a thunderous visage seemed almost to deface his features. Nevertheless, Pyrrha did not look away, knowing that she had deserved thunder. Her excuse sounded feeble even to her own ears as she said, "I didn't send you anywhere."

"Don't play with words, Pyrrha!" Jaune snapped. "I deserve better than that… don't I?"

"Yes," Pyrrha said quickly. "Yes, you do, of course you do. I…" She clasped her hands together in front of her. "I was afraid."

"'Afraid'?" Jaune repeated, taking another step towards her. "Afraid for me? Pyrrha, I thought you were the one who believed in me-"

"I do!" Pyrrha declared. "Have I not proven that? I've let you fight your battles, try your strength-"

"Against lone grimm, against low-level White Fang," Jaune said, "but when it comes to a serious fight against Cinder, you tell me to stand back and wait!"

"Do you expect me to let you fight Cinder alone?"

"Of course not, but we could have fought her together!" Jaune yelled. He glanced at Sunset for a moment. "I know that I'm not as strong as you are, Pyrrha; Sunset, I know that I don't have your magic. I know that the biggest contribution I can make to this team is with my semblance, but that doesn't mean that I… I'm still your partner, I'm still a member of this team, and I…" He paused for a moment. "It's not that I don't understand why you wanted to fight Cinder by yourself. Believe me, I absolutely get it."

"I know," Pyrrha whispered, because she believed him. She believed that, in this, he understood her better than Sunset did, and not just because Sunset was blinded by her affection for Cinder, but also because Jaune understood, as Sunset perhaps never had – for all that she was a faunus – the feeling of being powerless. It was novel to Pyrrha, less so to Jaune unfortunately, but Jaune understood how it could torment you, gnaw at you, mock you.

She loved him for the fact that he didn't say it out loud, and didn't need to throw her inadequacies in her face to make his point.

"But I… I'm starting to think that you don't really get why I asked you to make me that promise in the first place, if you think that not literally sending me away is enough to keep it," Jaune said. "I thought you did, you told me that you did, remember? After Salem's visions-"

"I told you I was a girl of my word," Pyrrha murmured, glancing guiltily away. "And upon the letter of my word, I stood."

"But not the spirit of what I asked of you," Jaune reminded her. "I told you, down in Mountain Glenn, that if anything happened to you… that I didn't want to live knowing that I couldn't help you. When Cinder had you on the ropes while I was just standing there, how do you think I felt? How stupid, how pathetic, how useless do you think I felt? How angry do you think I felt with you for putting me in that position? When I heard you scream, I thought that I might lose you-"

"And what of that?" Pyrrha demanded. "As a… as a girlfriend, I… you could find a dozen others who can offer you all that I can and more."

Jaune's eyes widened. "Is that what you really think?"

Pyrrha looked at him. "Is it not so? Ruby-"

"I don't love Ruby," Jaune declared. He covered the remaining distance between the two of them, and his expression softened as he reached out and gently rested his fingertips against her cheeks. "Even if… even if that were true, then… then none of them would be you."

Pyrrha looked up into his face, the face from which so much of his anger had drained away, the eyes that were soft again and filled with compassion… and with a degree of exasperation yet. No doubt he thought her very dense for not understanding.

It was better to be thought dense than to be thought malicious, especially since she had not set out to be malicious or disingenuous.

She wanted nothing more than to put her arms around him, to lay her head upon his chest, to melt into his embrace. She thought that it might be easy to do so, so much of his annoyance having ebbed away already. But it would not be right; at least, not before they had resolved this matter that lay between them.

"I… I promised that I would not send you away, because I thought that it was the guilt that you feared," Pyrrha murmured. "The guilt of… of not being strong enough, that I didn't think you strong enough. I suppose that, by telling you to wait, I laid that burden of guilt upon you nonetheless, and I am sorry for that, but I… am I not also allowed my fears? If Cinder had cut you down while you fought at my side-"

"Then you could find a dozen guys who can offer you all that I can and more," Jaune said.

Pyrrha frowned. "That's not funny, Jaune."

"No," Jaune agreed. "And it wasn't funny the first time, either."

Pyrrha winced and glanced down. "I don't know… I cannot promise to watch you die."

"But you've asked that of me already," Jaune said, and though his tone was gentle, his words pricked at Pyrrha's heart like daggers.

"Since you've kept me here listening to this with mounting embarrassment," Sunset said, "although, I accept that I should have teleported away some time ago, because why you asked me to stick around is just becoming increasingly baffling, but since I am here, perhaps I might offer an observation?" She paused, possibly waiting for objections that did not come. "I understand where you're both coming from. You fear one another's deaths, you fear what would become of you if the other one died, you're afraid to compound the pain of loss with the guilt of 'what if.' What if you'd been stronger, what if you'd been faster, what if you'd done this instead of that, what if you'd done anything at all?" Her tail twitched from side to side. "Guess what? That's not unique to you. Not by a long way. Maybe it's more pronounced for you both when it comes to the other, because you love each other, but you think that I don't feel it too? You think that I don't fear to lose you – or Ruby, for that matter?

"But this is a dangerous life that we've chosen, and that's the point. We… we chose this." Sunset looked away for a moment, her ears drooping down. "I will do whatever it takes to make sure that you don't die, I will do whatever I can, whatever I have to do, whatever is within my power to make sure that you survive, to the last drop of my strength. But in the end… in the end, the only thing that I could do to make absolutely certain of your survival would be to pack you away from Beacon and send you home to your mothers." She mustered a slight twitching upwards of the corner of one lip, though it did not reach a level deserving to be called a smile. "Neither of you want that, I take it."

"Indeed not," Pyrrha murmured.

"Well then," Sunset said. "If you aren't both willing to quit, then you're both going to have to accept that there is some level of risk involved for the other, as well as for yourselves, otherwise… you know, I'd say 'otherwise, this isn't going to work,' but let's be honest, you could break up, and it still wouldn't work as long as you still cared about one another on some level. So what's it going to be?"

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. Sunset could be headstrong and heedless, but she could also speak with great wisdom, so long as the thing she was talking about was not something which stirred her into passions too great to be ruled by reason. In this case… in this case, she was quite correct.

She had not sent Jaune away in Mountain Glenn, but she had pushed him away nonetheless, and now, she saw that she had been very fortunate not to push him all the way away. If she did it again, if she continued to treat him like this, then she would undermine any claim that she could make to believing in him, and she would… she would push him so far away that he would not return. She couldn't tell him on the one hand that she wished to see him flourish as a huntsman and then on the other seek to shield him from all danger as though he were a helpless innocent in need of her protection. Yes, there would be battles too difficult for him, and when those moments came, then she would be there without hesitation… but she could not do so as his protector. That was not what he wanted, that was not a relationship of equals… and what kind of relationship could they have if she did not see him as an equal?

If he died… even the thought of it made Pyrrha shudder in Jaune's grasp. If he died, her heart would crack in two, the prospect alone threatened to bring tears to her eyes. She thought of Lyra and Bon Bon and how badly they had taken the loss of Sky Lark; if anything happened to Jaune, then that would be her… but it seemed that if anything happened to her, that would be Jaune, also.

She didn't understand why. She could hardly comprehend her good fortune, but nevertheless, it seemed that fortune had blessed her, and so, if she wanted to remain blessed, then she had best reform her conduct.

While he was still willing to be patient with her.

Once more, her eyes found his, and Pyrrha held her gaze there. "I know," she said, in a voice that trembled slightly, "that I did not keep my first promise as you wished I would, and for that, I am sorry. I cannot promise that my behaviour will be perfect in the future, or that you will have no more cause to be upset with me ever, but… but I will make you a new promise, and I vow to you that I shall try to keep it: that so long as we stand on the same battlefield, then I shall never fight without you."

Jaune stared down at her. His fingers shifted across her face, brushing at the gold chains that hung from her circlet as his palms descended upon her cheeks, resting gently upon them. "That," he whispered, "that is what I… that's probably what I should have asked for in the first place, isn't it?"

Pyrrha said nothing, but smiled brightly up at him.

Jaune smiled too, a bright smile that illuminated his eyes. "Never without?" he asked.

"Never without you," Pyrrha affirmed.

And then he kissed her, his hands still upon her face, cupping her cheeks as his face descended towards hers, their lips meeting.

Ordinarily, the sensation of the kiss was enough to whisk Pyrrha away, banishing her from the world and its concerns – or banishing her concerns away from her. But now, though the kiss was as wonderful as it ever was, there was a part of her, at least, that lingered amidst her fears and doubts, a part of her which thought, which feared, which knew that it was not enough. That she was not enough. That together, they would not have been enough.

Jaune needed to be treated as an equal, or she would lose him, and in truth, they were equals: equals in unpreparedness for what lay before them. She would need to be so much stronger, so much more than she was now if she was to truly be never without him.

Or she would lose him in a way far worse than a bitter break-up.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Evenstar​

Terri-Belle Thrax bowed. "Thank you for seeing me, my lady."

"When the Warden of the White Tower comes to my gate, how can I not open it?" Lady Nikos asked in reply. "I take it from your dress – and the fact that we are hardly close – that you are here upon some official business?"

"I am, my lady," Terri-Belle said, straightening her back as she rose from her bow. She was not armed – there was no call to take a spear to call upon Lady Nikos in her home, and in any case, it might have alarmed the people to see her striding around the streets of the higher slope armed for battle – but she was armoured, in linothorax cuirass and pteruges, to demonstrate that she was not here not just as Terri-Belle Thrax, daughter of the Steward of Mistral, but also as Warden of the White Tower, her father's right hand and commander of the Imperial Guard.

"Indeed," Lady Nikos murmured. "Well then, Lady Terri-Belle, will it please you to come into my study, where we may talk in private?"

"It would indeed, my lady."

"And will you take refreshment, also?" Lady Nikos asked as she began to turn away, her long gown of emerald green trailing after her. "I often take a repast at around this time, if you would care to join me."

Terri-Belle bowed her head. "That would be most welcome, my lady."

"Iris!" Lady Nikos called out to one of the maids who waited beside the grand staircase, "Tea and pastries in my study, for myself and Lady Terri-Belle."

The maid bowed. "At once, my lady."

"Please, Lady Terri-Belle, follow me," Lady Nikos said as she began to ascend the stairs.

Terri-Belle followed after her. She could easily have outstripped the head of the Nikos family, whose movements were hampered by her injured leg, the limp which was becoming more pronounced by the day at present, but to have done so would have been rude in any circumstances, and especially in Lady Nikos' own house.

Plus, Terri-Belle would not have known where she was going; she had not called upon Lady Nikos in her home before, still less been to her study.

And so, she slowed her steps and made sure to walk behind her noble host, betraying no sign of impatience as they climbed the grand staircase and walked through corridors lined with antiques, relics of Mistral's noble past and of the part that the House of Nikos had played in that same past through the centuries.

Fortunately, she was very practiced at this; her own father moved rather more slowly than she did nowadays, and she had learned from necessity how to slow her steps.

They came at last to Lady Nikos' study, a small and confined space, bounded upon one wall by shelves of old leatherbound books piled high, one upon the other, reaching from floor to ceiling; and upon the other side by a wall of testaments to the greatness of Lady Pyrrha.

What Lady Pyrrha herself thought of such a thing, Terri-Belle could scarcely imagine; she did not know the Nikos heir very well – Terri-Belle was a full ten years older than Pyrrha – but she seemed modest and unassuming. That could have been part of her public persona, but if so, it was a very good performance to which she was very committed.

Lady Nikos, clearly, was more traditional; Mistralians did not believe in hiding their lights beneath bushels.

And it was not as though she had no reason to be proud; her daughter's accomplishments spoke for themselves, so why not speak of them further, and at great volume?

Lady Nikos' gown trailed across the floor as she walked behind an ebony desk, upon which rested various mementos, curios, and the like. She sat down, gesturing with one pale hand for Terri-Belle to take the seat on the other side of the desk.

Terri-Belle did so, adjusting the great horn that she wore at her hip so that it rested lightly upon her lap instead of getting wedged between her thigh and the arm of the chair.

There was a knock upon the door behind her, and the maid entered bearing a tray in her arms, containing a porcelain teapot decorated in the Mikawachi style, two teacups and all the other accoutrements similarly decorated, and a plate of pastries that looked soft and warm.

"My lady," the maid said softly, setting the tray down upon the table.

"Thank you, Iris; you may leave us now," Lady Nikos said.

The maid – Iris – bowed and withdrew, shutting the door behind her.

Terri-Belle began to rise.

"Remain seated, Lady Terri-Belle; you are a guest in my house," Lady Nikos declared as she herself got up and poured the tea into the porcelain cups. "Do you take milk? Sugar?"

"Neither, my lady, thank you," Terri-Belle replied, and received her cup of steaming black tea from Lady Nikos' outstretched hands. She took a sip. "Exquisite quality," she pronounced.

"Would you expect anything less?" Lady Nikos asked.

"Of course not, my lady; I meant no offence," Terri-Belle assured her. She glanced at the wall full of commemorations of Pyrrha's triumphs. "Will there soon be another item to celebrate what they are calling the Breach? Or is it there already and my eyes have missed it?"

"There is not," Lady Nikos said. "I must confess, I am not sure there is much in the Breach, as it shall be known, to celebrate."

"The deliverance of a city?" Terri-Belle suggested. "In my experience, my lady, victory in battle is always to be celebrated. With so much at stake, we cannot afford to be precious about the manner in which the victory was won."

"Nevertheless, the mere fact that Pyrrha was present at such and such a place does not accord it a place of honour on my wall as by right," Lady Nikos said. "I celebrate Pyrrha's accomplishment, I glory in them as if they were my own, but I am not aware that my daughter accomplished anything at the Breach beyond being there."

"I am not aware that she disgraced herself," Terri-Belle murmured.

"The mere fact of not disgracing herself will not add lustre to her name," Lady Nikos responded.

"That is not the mood within the city," Terri-Belle said. "In many quarters, the mere fact that Pyrrha Nikos and Arslan Altan were present at the Breach is sufficient to make them heroes of the hour."

"You ask me to substitute the judgement of the general for my own?" Lady Nikos asked.

"No, my lady," Terri-Belle said, "although I must say that it has pleased my father to encourage the idea of Pyrrha's heroism – and Arslan Altan's, but especially that of the Princess Without a Crown – as a check against unnecessary alarm. When news of the Breach broke… although it happened far away, that news footage of the grimm swarming up out of the ground was very distressing. That distress might not have been enough to bring a horde to our doors, but after our experiences of a few months ago, I hope you understand why we were not anxious to take the risk of a grimm resurgence. So many huntsmen are still scattered throughout the territory, and…"

Lady Nikos sipped at her tea while she waited for Terri-Belle to finish. When the daughter of the Steward did not continue, she leaned forward. "And, Lady Terri-Belle?"

Terri-Belle frowned. "I trust that anything I say to you will be in confidence, my lady?"

"I am not accustomed to wild gossip, Lady Terri-Belle."

Terri-Belle hesitated for a moment. "Many huntsmen are late returning from their missions," she said, "and the number that are overdue home is increasing. Even some of my own guard are amongst them."

Lady Nikos frowned. "I have heard nothing of this."

"For obvious reasons, we are not keen to trumpet the fact," Terri-Belle said. "Lionheart says there is nothing to be concerned with-"

"I am not sure I would trust Lionheart if he told me the sky was blue," Lady Nikos muttered.

"Having had the benefit of his instruction, I fear you are correct; he was never much good that I can remember," Terri-Belle muttered. Father should have dismissed him years ago.

She would not say that aloud to Lady Nikos – she would not speak ill of her father's choices to an outsider thus – but she had asked him to do so as early as her graduation from Haven. Yes, the system appeared to have been set up to make it deliberately difficult to replace a headmaster – not only did not it require a unanimous vote of the rest of the Council, but appointments and dismissals also required the unanimous consent of the other headmasters, allowing them to protect one another if they chose – but it was a fight that Terri-Belle believed her father could have won, albeit at the cost of a great deal of energy and political capital. Her father was not minded to spend either unless he had to, preferring to conserve both for political emergencies. And besides, as he had explained to Terri-Belle, there were advantages to a headmaster whom no one like or respected, who belonged to no faction and who could have no political ambitions of their own: it made him malleable and dependent upon those who could protect him from his critics.

Terri-Belle was not certain that advantage was worth the cost of having such a man at the head of Haven. Small wonder that their brightest star had preferred Beacon.

"If they do not start returning soon, then I shall have to go myself and look for them," Terri-Belle declared.

"On the reasonable assumption that something or someone has delayed them, that could be perilous, Lady Terri-Belle," Lady Nikos said.

"What other choice do I have, my lady? To send others in my place?" Terri-Belle asked. "And if they do not return, what then? Search parties to seek out the search parties? No, my lady, if something preys upon our huntsmen, then I will master it, man or beast. I am the Warden of the White Tower. And I will not cower behind the city walls and ask another to do what I would not."

"And if you do not return?" Lady Nikos asked.

"Then I have three sisters to carry on the line of Thrax, and take our father's place upon the Steward's chair in time," Terri-Belle said. She hesitated for a moment, drinking the last of her tea and setting down the porcelain cup. "Although, my lady, I must say that I could depart – both from Mistral and, if need be, from this world – if I knew that Mistral would be defended by a stout-hearted champion in my absence."

"Ah," Lady Nikos said. "I think you come at last to the reason for your visit, Lady Terri-Belle."

Terri-Belle looked her squarely in the eyes. "Lady Nikos, when Pyrrha came home for the vacation, I offered her a position in the Imperial Guard. Was it Pyrrha's idea to mobilise a vast array of the great and good against the notion, or yours?"

"Mine, of course, Lady Terri-Belle," Lady Nikos said. "Pyrrha might have refused you, but she would not have made the refusal quite so… final."

"'Final'? I hope not, my lady," Terri-Belle said. She paused. "My lady knows that I am not a fangirl; I speak only of the good of Mistral, which is to me the highest good in all of Remnant."

"Of course, Lady Terri-Belle," Lady Nikos replied. "Fortunately, the abdication of my family has freed me to consider other goods, besides that of Mistral."

"More personal goods, perhaps," Terri-Belle muttered. "And yet, I must admit that I am somewhat mystified, my lady; what with the White Fang attacks, bombings, robberies, and now this? Vale appears to have descended into chaos, not to mention was completely unable to defend itself against attack-"

"You will permit me to wonder aloud, Lady Terri-Belle, if we would have done any better than the Valish when faced with a similar situation and no Atlesian aid in sight," Lady Nikos murmured.

Terri-Belle chewed upon her. Lady Nikos' words cut like a sword because they could not be easily refuted. Mistral, unlike Vale or Atlas, did not have a standing army, and the processes by which an army could be raised, either by seeking contributions from the noble families or else a mass levy of the citizenry, were ponderous and slow moving. In such a situation as Vale found itself, without any Atlesian assistance closer than Argus, Mistral might well have been overrun.

"I daresay we would have given good account of ourselves," Terri-Belle said stubbornly, but it was a childish stubbornness, born out of the lack of a real response. What was the point of giving a good account of oneself if you still lost, if you not only perished but allowed the city to perish also? Mistralian culture was not above celebrating a glorious death, even as part of a glorious defeat, but there had to be at least somebody left alive to celebrate.

And besides, Terri-Belle had never much cared for those kinds of stories.

"But we were fortunate, my lady, that we did not come under attack, and if destiny wills it, so we shall not," Terri-Belle went on. "My lady, with the Vale in its present state of disorder, there are many who believe that all our Haven students should come home, and our Mistralian sons and daughters with them. That question, and how we may better prepare our own city so that we are not caught in so shameful a position as the Valish, are ones that will be taken up in open court in a few days' time."

Lady Nikos' eyebrows rose. "'In open court'? That is… anachronistic, wouldn't you say, Lady Terri-Belle? The Council-"

"Is not the city," Terri-Belle said. "Why should my father constrain himself to listening to the opinions of four other men, one of whom is Lionheart, when he may hear the wisdom of all our notables and worthies?"

"Does the Lord Steward intend to do what the majority think best, or take what he deems the best advice?" Lady Nikos asked.

"I cannot say, my lady," Terri-Belle admitted. "If my father had plans that he could share with me in advance, there would be small point in an assembly, would there? I hope, for all that you are removed from the need to hold the good of Mistral as your guiding star, that you will attend the court."

"I will not stay away," Lady Nikos declared.

"I am glad to hear it, as will be my father," Terri-Belle said. Once more, she took pause. "If you announce that you are bringing Pyrrha back to Mistral, it will have a great effect in court, and in the streets, the people will rejoice to have their princess home."

"And if I say otherwise, it will likewise have a great effect?" Lady Nikos asked, with a somewhat arch tone as if she already knew the answer.

Terri-Belle sighed. "My lady, do you really believe that your daughter is safe in Vale?"

Now, it was Lady Nikos' turn to fall momentarily silent. "Do not mistake me, Lady Terri-Belle; the question has preoccupied me since news of the White Fang attacks reached us here in Mistral. You must not think that I am so dazzled by the thought of Vytal crowns that I would cast aside my daughter's life in the pursuit of one. It is only the fact that Pyrrha's survival was reported widely that enables me to be so calm. Thought I that there was worse to come than this, I might give ear to your arguments. But it appears that the White Fang, although unchecked for too long, have been comprehensively defeated, and I cannot imagine that there will be another grimm attack on such scale so hard upon the first. I did not think they fell so regularly."

"Hordes rarely come in quick succession," Terri-Belle conceded. "They tend to drain the areas they pass through of grimm, so that if they are defeated, a period of calm will often follow as the numbers of the monsters are diminished."

"Then is it not a little late to fear and to talk of bringing our children home?" Lady Nikos asked.

"My lady knows this sentiment has been building up for some time," Terri-Belle said. "For many, this is the last straw."

"And yet, it seems the horse has bolted, so why slam the door?" Lady Nikos asked. She sighed. "In any event, it is not my decision. Only Pyrrha can decide whether she stays or goes, and I think she will desire to stay."

Terri-Belle's eyes narrowed. "You are her mother."

"And she has defied me once already, to take up with a Valish boy," Lady Nikos said.

Ah, yes, Terri-Belle remembered that now. She tried to rise above the gossip of the gutter press, but her sisters had found the whole thing fascinating; as, to be fair, had great swathes of Mistral. The Princess Without a Crown, dating some Valish nobody.

Terri-Belle hoped that they knew what they were doing; the tabloids could be as monstrous as any creature of grimm, and far less forgiving of error, in her experience.

"Will you at least allow me to speak with her, my lady, and put the question?" Terri-Belle asked.

Lady Nikos nodded. "You may ask, Lady Terri-Belle," she agreed, reaching into a drawer in her desk and taking out a scroll. "I do not believe you will succeed, but you may certainly try."

XxXxX​

Pyrrha slipped one hand into the crook of Jaune's arm and clasped her other hand over it, leaning ever so slightly against him as they walked back towards the door down off the roof and into the hospital.

Her scroll began to go off.

Pyrrha frowned slightly. "I'm sorry," she said to both Jaune and Sunset as she pulled her arms away from Jaune and fished her scroll out of one of the pouches at her belt. "It's my mother," she said as she saw the caller ID when she opened the device. "Excuse me a moment." She turned away from Jaune and began to step lightly back towards the edge of the roof as she took the call. "Good afternoon, Mother," she said, calmly and without a great deal of emotion.

She was… she would scarcely have known how to speak to her mother at the best of times. After the way that her mother had treated her – and treated Jaune – over the vacation, they had… come to an understanding as to the limits of the interference in her life that Pyrrha would tolerate, and on the basis of that, Pyrrha had let her mother back in. But they hadn't spoken since Pyrrha had dictated terms, and that conversation had occurred before the mission to Mountain Glenn that had… it might not have changed a great deal in real terms, but Pyrrha felt differently than she had before.

To a great extent, she felt worse.

She hardly felt in the mood to speak to her mother at the moment. She had no idea of either what to say or how to say it.

"Pyrrha," Lady Nikos said, looking up at her from the screen of the scroll. "I… would like to speak to you," she said, which seemed a strange thing to say when, after all, she had already indicated as much by calling, but then she went on, "however, there is a visitor who would like a word with you first."

The scroll displayed an image of Mother's study, evidently as the device itself changed hands, passing across the ebony writing desk before displaying the hard, angular face and grey eyes of Terri-Belle Thrax.

"Lady Terri-Belle?" Pyrrha asked.

"Lady Pyrrha," Terri-Belle replied, bowing her head in acknowledgement. "I am glad to see that you have survived the recent struggle. All of Mistral rejoices that you live."

"You flatter me so much, Lady Terri-Belle, that I must conclude it is deliberate," Pyrrha murmured. "I doubt that my death would attract much notice."

After all, she was not much more than a performing seal to those who cheered her performances in the Coliseum. No matter what fate befell her, she would swiftly be forgotten and replaced by who or whatever came next to capture the public heart and imagination.

"You humble yourself so much, Lady Pyrrha, that I would conclude that it were artifice, had I a more suspicious nature," Lady Terri-Belle replied. "You are the Evenstar of Mistral; in you, the valour and skill of our kingdom of old stand reborn. You are the Princess Without a Crown, adored and celebrated in the city and in the lands beyond. In you are united skill, birth, grace, virtue – or at least the appearance of virtue – and, dare I say, beauty. If you were to fall, if your star were to be snuffed out… then so many hearts in Mistral would be broken in two that I fear it would bring the grimm upon us. For that reason alone, I am glad to see you alive. For that reason, I would see it stay that way."

Pyrrha sucked in a sharp intake of breath. "You want me to come back to Mistral."

"Your mother tells me that you will refuse me," Terri-Belle said, with a touch of wryness entering her voice.

"My mother does not always know me as well as she believes," Pyrrha declared, "but in this, she is correct. I… I do not want to go."

Terri-Belle was quiet for a moment. "What is the situation in Vale? I have watched the news, of course, but I would appreciate your view from on the ground."

"The White Fang suffered heavy losses in their attempt to breach Vale's defences," Pyrrha said, although Terri-Belle doubtless already knew that; it had been trumpeted about quite loudly as a benefit – if it could be called that – of all this. "Their leader, Adam Taurus, is among the dead, and they have lost or used up all of the dust that was stolen from Vale, and the Atlesian military equipment that they had likewise seized."

"Stolen Atlesian military equipment?" Terri-Belle said. "You are better informed than the news by far."

Pyrrha cursed herself mentally. She hadn't considered what was publicly known and what wasn't; she had spoken without thinking, so stupid of her. Her throat felt very dry. "Um… I, uh-"

"We know people!" Jaune yelped, as he came to stand by her side. "That is to say that we, uh, we have friends amongst the Atlesians, they… they tell us things! I mean, um… I beg my lady's pardon for the interruption."

"Sensitive things?" Terri-Belle asked, her eyes narrowing. "It's Jaune Arc, isn't it?"

Jaune swallowed. "Yes. Yes, it is, my lady."

Terri-Belle stared up at him. "You beg my pardon for the interruption."

"Yes, my lady."

"You should have said that before you said anything else," Terri-Belle pointed out, not without some amusement in her voice.

"My apologies, my lady," Jaune said, "I meant no offence."

"And 'Lady Terri-Belle' will do," Terri-Belle added. "My lady would be my mother, if she yet lived." She looked at Pyrrha. "Did you teach him all this?"

"No," Pyrrha murmured evenly. "That was my team leader, without my knowledge."

Terri-Belle snorted. "You sound less than enamoured with the notion, but you should appreciate it. If you bring him back to Mistral with you, whenever you return to Mistral, then you will be glad if his courtesies can pass muster."

"I would prefer if people accepted that my romantic life is none of their business," Pyrrha replied, her voice sharpening.

"And I would prefer a kingdom safe from bandits and grimm alike, but that doesn't seem very likely either," Terri-Belle declared. "So, you think the threat of the White Fang has passed?"

"Yes," Pyrrha said, and sincerely too; while Cinder remained at large and might yet plot further mischief, her sword had shattered in her hand with the destruction of the White Fang; even if the survivors were inclined to listen to her still, their numbers were reduced beyond the capacity for serious harm. "But, just in case, General Ironwood is bringing in reinforcements from Atlas."

"I see," Terri-Belle said. "So you think the Vytal Festival is safe to proceed? You think it is appropriate to proceed under the circumstances?"

"I think…" Pyrrha trailed off for a moment. 'Appropriate'? How could she answer that? Why should her opinion on what was or was not appropriate matter any more than Jaune's or anybody else's?

Because I am the Princess Without a Crown. I am the Evenstar of Mistral. I am the Invincible Girl. How she hated it. Those names had always been a burden, but now, they seemed like mockery. Terri-Belle told her that Mistral looked to her, that hearts would be broken by her death, that she was the flowering of Mistral's valour and skill, but what skill? Skill that could not defeat Cinder? Skill that could not save Vale? Skill that could not save herself from a single grimm but had to be saved by Ruby's silver eyes?

What a weak reed was she, on which to hang the hopes of a kingdom.

And yet, hang they did. And so, that being the case, since she could not cast off such burdens, the only thing to do was become stronger to bear them better, but… but she could scarcely see how. It was not as though she could acquire power out of the air or unlock some secret power within her.

So, then, what could she do?

I can answer the question, at least. "I think… I think that Vale needs this festival, lest the year become nothing more than the grim events that have gone before. This city deserves a little entertainment, after so much hard work has been put into it and especially since these attacks."

Terri-Belle's face was expressionless. "And what of the political situation?"

"I'm afraid I couldn't say," Pyrrha murmured.

"Your Atlesian friends don't tell you that," Terri-Belle grunted.

"They don't know any better than we do, Lady Terri-Belle," Jaune said.

Terri-Belle ignored him. "Lady Pyrrha," she said, "once before, I urged you to stay in Mistral. I offered to make you a huntress, to give you a place of honour in the Imperial Guard. Once more, I extend to you the same offer: come home, to Mistral, where your people need you. I will benefit from your strong arm at my side; Mistral will benefit from its beloved hero safely home where all can see you-"

"Are you asking me to come home and be a warrior, Lady Terri-Belle, or a prop?" Pyrrha asked.

"I am sure that you are talented enough to play both roles, as necessary," Terri-Belle replied without missing a beat. "I will not keep you from the battlefield, if that is what you fear, but you must understand that your name and fame alike will always mean that you have value beyond the number of grimm that you can slay."

The value of an empty vessel, nothing but what others wish to see in me; I have no more value than that.

Pyrrha held her scroll in one hand. The other hung down by her side. She felt Jaune slip his hand into hers and squeeze her own hand gently.

Pyrrha glanced at him. She had value to him, at least, and could not forget it, lest she drive him away. She looked back at Sunset, hovering uncertainly behind her, seeming to not want to interfere. Pyrrha had value to Sunset as well, and… and to Ruby, down in the hospital.

"I cannot," she said as she looked back down at her scroll.

"Cannot or will not?" Terri-Belle asked.

"Either, or both," Pyrrha answered. "I have responsibilities here that I would not forsake, and I have friends here I would not do without."

"I would beg you bring your friends to Mistral, where you might finish your studies at Haven, but it is by no means certain that the Haven students will return," Terri-Belle conceded. "This is your last word? You will not put duty before your own desires?"

"I have other duties besides to Mistral," Pyrrha declared, "and they demand me here."

Terri-Belle was silent for a moment. "It seems your lady mother was correct. Very well then, Lady Pyrrha. If the Vytal Festival goes ahead, and if Haven students participate in it, then I shall probably cheer on my alma mater… but I wish you good fortune nevertheless."

"Thank you, Lady Terri-Belle," Pyrrha murmured. "That is very generous of you."

Once again, the scroll showed her mother's study as it was handed over. Terri-Belle's voice emerged unseen. "Lady Nikos, I wish you good day. I will not detain you further."

"Good day, Lady Terri-Belle," Lady Nikos said. "One of the maids will show you out."

"I am sure that I can find the way quite well, my lady," Terri-Belle said before there was the sound of a door opening and shutting again.

Pyrrha found herself looking down upon her mother's face.

"Mother," Pyrrha said softly.

"Pyrrha," Lady Nikos said. "I am… very glad to see you well," she admitted. "When I saw… I am very glad to see you."

Pyrrha found herself blinking very quickly. "Thank you, Mother; I… I am very glad to be here."

She did not want to die. Or perhaps it was better to say that she had not wanted to die. She had thought that, when death came, perhaps she could face it stoically, like the heroes of old, that she could accept death as the ending of a life well-lived, that she could content herself with having given her life in a worthy cause, perhaps inspiring others to take up the struggle in her place.

But when the moment had come, when the grimm had her in its grip, its unbreakable grip, when it had been squeezing her, when Sunset had been powerless to help her, when it had seemed that there was nothing anyone could do to stop the grimm from shattering her aura and breaking her body, then… then all of that had fallen away. All the comforting illusions had seemed then like so many falsehoods and all that she could think about was how she did not want to die. She didn't want Sunset to carry her circlet home to her mother, she didn't want to be remembered as a hero of Mistral, she… she didn't want to die. She wanted… she didn't know what she wanted, but it was not death. Not yet. Not for so long yet.

That was why Ruby had to wake up: so that Pyrrha could tell her how grateful she was.

Lady Nikos nodded. "Mister Arc, I see that you, too, are well, and for my daughter's sake, I suppose I should express my gratitude for that. Miss Shimmer, is she-?"

"She's here, Mother," Pyrrha said, turning to Sunset.

Sunset stepped forward, her ears drooping down into the midst of her hair. There were dark lines beneath her eyes as she bowed her head. "My lady. I apologise that I did not contact you sooner; I have been… distracted, and remiss in my distractions."

"So long as you have not been remiss in battle, Miss Shimmer, then I see nothing to complain of," Lady Nikos said. "I am glad that you, too, have survived this… event."

"We protected each other," Pyrrha said.

"Indeed," Lady Nikos replied. "And Miss Rose, what of her?"

Pyrrha winced. "Ruby is… Ruby was… injured," she said.

Lady Nikos' brow furrowed. "Badly?"

"We all hope not," Pyrrha replied. "Although… she has not woken since."

"I will pray for her," Lady Nikos promised. She paused. "You were more involved in these events than you told Lady Terri-Belle, were you not?"

"Mother, I don't know what you-"

"I am not a fool, Pyrrha," Lady Nikos said sharply. "Perhaps you do have friends amongst the Atlesian forces, but I do not think they would spill secrets to you without a cause. And besides, you spoke to me, abruptly, as if you were concerned that… that you would not later have time to do so. And then a great battle is fought in Vale, and you are present for it. And not for the first time, either. What has Professor Ozpin involved you in?"

Pyrrha glanced at Sunset, and then at Jaune, hoping that one of them would devise a clever lie to extricate them all from this situation.

"My lady, we shall not insult your intellect with denials," Sunset declared, "but I fear we are not at liberty to say more. It is… a matter of honour."

"I see," Lady Nikos murmured. "Well then, if it is a matter of honour, then I shall not pry further, except to say that I dislike what I know, and dislike the idea that I may not know more even more." She fell momentarily silent. "I understand what you said to Lady Terri-Belle. I agree that the threat from the White Fang and the grimm are less now than they were before. And yet, there is a part of me that would bring you all to Haven for the next three years, safely in Mistral, where the White Fang and the quiescent and Professor Ozpin are far away. You are my heir, Pyrrha, my sole heir and the last hope of my house; Miss Shimmer, I think that you are a girl of great promise, one of whom I have grown rather fond; Mister Arc, I am afraid that I cannot say that I am fond of you, but Pyrrha has found it in her heart to… to love you," she said the words as though they stuck in her craw and had to be pried out, "and would grieve your passing or your injury.

"In our culture, we prize bravery above caution, honour above care, the greatness that will linger in memory above life itself. For it is in passing that we achieve immortality; a noble death, they say, will elevate the memory above all others, however more long-lived they may be. But you are the last of your line, Pyrrha. If you die young, the House of Nikos will die with you, for I… I have given Mistral a red diamond of unsurpassed brilliance. I would not have it lightly thrown aside. I would not be left to linger out my last years in a house whose future has been stolen away. Miss Shimmer, Sunset Shimmer, I would not hear that all the potential I have seen in you has turned to ash. Mister Arc, I know what it is to lose love before the time for loss; I would not have Pyrrha know that pain as I did.

"As a true Mistralian, and a lady of the House of Nikos, I should urge you all in the language of the Mistraliad 'fight well and be superior to all others.' But… but as a mother, I find myself urging you only to be one another's shields, that you all may live another day."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Penny for Your Thoughts​

"Thanks for coming, both of you," Rainbow said as she led them down one of the metallic corridors of the Valiant. "Penny's really going to appreciate seeing you both."

"It's no trouble, really," Pyrrha replied. She was following directly behind Rainbow Dash, while Sunset trailed behind a little. "It's the least we can do for a friend."

"Even so, she's still going to appreciate it," Rainbow said over her shoulder. She stopped outside a door which looked, to Pyrrha's untrained eyes, just like many other doors that they had passed on the Atlesian warship: a sheet of undecorated metal, poised to slide open to admit them. This door did not slide open, however; it remained resolutely shut, despite how close they were to it.

Rainbow leaned against the wall with one elbow, her hand hovering near the black keypad mounted alongside the door. "The door is locked to stop anyone from coming in and seeing Penny… you know. I have the code; I'll unlock it to let you in. Once you're done, you can leave; it's not locked from the inside; Twilight can show you out to your airship."

"You aren't coming in with us?" Sunset asked as she moved from behind Pyrrha to standing alongside her.

Rainbow did not reply, nor for a moment did she make any move to actually open the door. Instead, she glanced down at her feet, and then looked back up at the pair of them. "I… I was assigned to Penny; she didn't choose me. She didn't choose any of us. She chose you girls," she said, looking more at Sunset than at Pyrrha as she said it; something had changed between those two since Mountain Glenn, although Pyrrha didn't know exactly what had changed and didn't feel able to pry.

Nevertheless, something had changed; they seemed… closer perhaps; certainly, all of the antagonism – even the mock, playful kind – seemed to have gone out of them. That would have been a good thing, except that it was accompanied by a certain sense of dour melancholy afflicting at times both Rainbow and Sunset. Pyrrha, who was no stranger to degrees of dour melancholy herself, supposed that they were downcast by the results of the battle.

She supposed that she could understand that. Many people were downcast by the results of the battle. She… it might be hypocritical to say so, but she thought that they were asking too much of themselves. It was one thing to hold yourself to high standards, as she did, but another to ask the impossible. She had not wished to die in the dark, but her near death at the hands of that grimm, whatever its name was, did not dismay her nearly as much as her failure to defeat Cinder in combat for that very reason.

The loss of a comrade was always to be regretted, and the loss of six lives was a tragedy for all connected with them, but when one considered how large was Vale and how much, how many lives, had been at stake, it was impossible, for Pyrrha at least, not to conclude that they had won a glittering victory. Not one that would be attributed to any of them or their skill, true, a victory that would adorn the brows of the Atlesians and their technological prowess, but a splendid victory nonetheless. In years to come, when they spoke of men's great triumphs over the grimm, the Breach would stand alongside Ozpin's Stand as a day when mankind had stood against the tide of darkness and turned it back decisively.

It was a pity that neither Sunset nor Rainbow seemed able to see that.

It was not about the glory; it was more than Pyrrha's hope that it was not; she genuinely did not believe that either of them were so vain that they would find disconsolation in a victory merely because they had not been rewarded with sufficient praise and recognition for it. No, it was the loss of life, if anything, that weighed upon their shoulders.

Unfortunately, and perhaps this was a cowardice in her, she knew not how to take it away without exposing herself to a charge of callousness.

"I'm going to be a friend to her while she's away from you," Rainbow said. "I'm… gonna try to, anyway. But you two… Pyrrha, you and Ruby have always been there for Penny, from the moment you met her, you've been the friends that she needed and that… the friends that she can't believe she has in her own team because of… how this team came to be. Thank you, Pyrrha, and if Ruby doesn't wake up before we go, make sure to thank her for me as well, won't you?"

"No thanks are necessary," Pyrrha replied. "It was my pleasure, and my privilege, and I'm sure that if Ruby were here, she would say the same. You don't need to thank me for something that has brought me great joy."

"Yeah, I do," Rainbow said softly. She glanced at Sunset. "And Sunset… I'm still not sure that I believe this whole not-human thing, but if it is true-"

"It is," Sunset insisted.

"Then what are you doing here?" Rainbow demanded.

Sunset folded her arms. "I'm the last survivor of a dead planet, sent here by my mother to be a light to inspire mankind to greatness."

"Really?"

"No!" Sunset snapped. "How long have you known me? Do I seem like the kind of person who could inspire others?"

"You've inspired me," Rainbow said softly.

Sunset's mouth opened, but no words emerged. Her mouth hung open momentarily, like a puppet with a broken hinge, before she looked away. "Well… I'm not. If anyone was going to turn out to be sent by some otherworldly force to inspire everyone, it would be Pyrrha."

"You give me too much credit by a great distance," Pyrrha murmured.

"Well… whatever you are," Rainbow said. "Penny… it's meant a lot to her that you told her that, so thank you too. Though I hope you're prepared to give some details, because she's going to ask, and unlike me, she's going to be persistent about it." She paused. "So if you could tell her the truth-"

"I will," Sunset promised, not mentioning that she had already shared the truth with Pyrrha, Jaune, Ruby, and Blake.

Rainbow nodded. "I appreciate it. So the answer to your question is no, I'm not coming in with you. I'd only get in the way – I'll give Penny some time alone with the people she wants to spend time with – and besides, I need to finish writing my report for General Ironwood. I'm not sure that he'll like it, but hopefully, he'll appreciate my… honesty."

"What do you mean to tell him?" Pyrrha asked, wondering what Rainbow might have to say that might upset General Ironwood.

"That we shouldn't have been there," Rainbow said calmly. "That the mission should have been assigned to a specialist squad, not to first-year students."

"I think you do us a disservice," Pyrrha murmured. "We were chosen for a reason."

"It doesn't mean the reason was good," Rainbow replied. "I know we did the best we could-"

"And Vale survived," Pyrrha pointed out. "With very little blood shed."

"With more experienced personnel, it might have been no blood shed," Rainbow said. "That's what I think, anyway, and that's what I'll say in my report. You don't have to agree with me, and neither does the General, but I owe it to Penny and Ciel to put it on record and tell the General that I think he made a mistake."

"Professor Ozpin believed that we were ready to join this fight," Pyrrha insisted.

"And do you still believe him?" Rainbow asked.

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. It was not the Mistralian way to refuse an honour offered or done to one, and as much turmoil as Professor Ozpin had sown within her heart when he told her the truth of what was going on out in Remnant, as much as he had sown fear and uncertainty in her, she yet believed that the headmaster had done her – had done them all – great honour by choosing them to be part of his latter-day circle. To be chosen to possess secret knowledge denied to other men, to be chosen to stand as a champion of light against the darkness, to be chosen by the defender of the world to be a soldier in his silent war, that was honour indeed, a testament to their skills and to their virtues both alike. Yes, Cinder had escaped her grasp, yes, she had been in peril of her life, but at the same time…

"I am not sure that anyone else could have done better than we did," she murmured, although she did not mention that that fact was as much cause for trepidation as for rejoicing.

"Well… I'm glad you feel that way," Rainbow said, seeming to take Pyrrha's words as much more enthusiastic than she actually felt. "Anyway, I… I'll leave you alone with Penny."

"Thank you," Pyrrha said. "And I hope that your report doesn't get you into too much trouble."

Rainbow grinned. "I'll be fine," she reassured Pyrrha before typing in some numbers onto the keypad next to the door, her fingers moving too quickly for Pyrrha's eyes to follow and make out the combination.

Not that she needed to. It wasn't as though she was planning to steal her like a thief in the night, after all.

And even if she had been, getting through the door would have been the least of her worries.

In any case, the door slid open; Rainbow stood to one side, out of sight, while Pyrrha led the way inside, followed by Sunset.

On the other side of the door – which slid closed behind them with a hydraulic hiss – was a clean, polished, and shiningly metallic room. All of the blades of Floating Array had been placed side by side upon a long workbench on the right-hand side of the room as Pyrrha entered, while various notes and diagrams and schematics were pinned to a board above the bench. On the far side of the room, opposite Pyrrha, in the left-hand corner, was another bench with a computer terminal and – the one untidy element in the room – papers spread out higgledy-piggledy across the surface. Twilight sat there, her back to the terminal, although she got to her feet when they came in.

And in the centre of the room lay Penny, laid out upon the bench, her hands by her side, as still as a corpse laid out for burial – or perhaps autopsy would be the more appropriate comparison, considering the circumstances and the fact that she was, somewhat disconcertingly, completely naked.

It was like looking at a child's doll, with all the… absences that that implied.

Only in Penny's eyes was there any difference from corpse or doll, for her eyes still moved, still looked, still seemed to brighten a little as Pyrrha and Sunset entered. "Pyrrha. Sunset," she said, in a voice that was deep, male, and rather devoid of emotion – especially for Penny. "You came."

Pyrrha's brow furrowed beneath her circlet. "Penny?" she asked. "Is… is that you?"

"My speech centre is still disabled, but Twilight connected me to the computer so that I could speak through it," Penny explained. "I'm sorry that I don't sound like myself, but at least I can talk to you."

"No need to apologise, Penny," Sunset said, stepping out from behind Pyrrha. "These things happen. I remember one time, when I was a kid, I got really sick – really stay in bed sick, and my throat, not only did my throat kill me, not only did it feel like I was getting stabbed every time I swallowed anything, but my voice dropped a whole two octaves at least, and I sounded like this." For those last few words, she forced her voice downwards into a sort of croak.

"Haha," Penny said, "but I'm not sick."

"No," Pyrrha agreed. "But you were wounded in battle, and that is not a thing to apologise for. Rather, I feel as though I ought to apologise for being taken by surprise; as you say, it's good that you can speak to us." She tried to keep her eyes on Penny's face, but it was a little difficult when she was… "Um, that being said… Twilight… why does Penny need to be, um…" She gestured at Penny's unclothed form.

Twilight let out a squeak of embarrassment. "Sorry!" she exclaimed. "I had to take her clothes off in order to conduct a thorough physical exam, and then… well, I was there when Penny was created, so it doesn't seem strange to me. But I should have thought. Sorry." She grabbed a sheet from under her desk, telekinetically summoning it up into the air where it unfurled like a banner before descending upon Penny to cover her up from the neck down. Twilight's hands glowed with a soft lavender light as she smoothed out the blanket. "There, is that better?"

"Yes, thank you," Pyrrha murmured. Apart from anything else, it made it much easier to lock eyes with Penny and to keep her gaze fixed upon Penny's gaze – or at least on Penny's face when Penny's gaze wandered to Sunset or anyone else. She approached the bench, her hands clasped in front of her. "How…?" Despite the fact that Penny was no longer exposed, Pyrrha could confess to herself that she yet felt a touch of uncertainty regarding what to say. Never before had Penny's nature as a robot seemed more intrusive to her. She couldn't even be sure of the wisdom of so innocuous a question as 'how are you?' Could Penny even feel anything at the moment?

Calm down. Don't overthink it – as hard as that might be for you. Just talk to her like you would to anyone else.

After all, that's why she likes you, because you treat her just like… well, because you don't treat her any differently.

Pyrrha crouched at the knees, bending down so that she no longer loomed over Penny quite so alarmingly. "How are you doing, Penny?"

Penny was silent for a while. "Is Ruby going to be okay?"

"We think so," Sunset said.

"We hope so," Pyrrha murmured.

"Okay, yes, we hope so," Sunset conceded. "But we hope… we hope with good cause." Her tail twitched. She sighed as she ran one hand through her red-and-gold hair. "It's true that I don't really understand how Ruby's magic works, but we know that it isn't some power that Ruby came into overnight. This is something that was passed down to her through generations of Silver-Eyed Warriors, warriors who were once celebrated in song and story for all that they have largely been forgotten now, warriors including Ruby's own mother, whose words we have. We know that she used this power without taking permanent harm from it, we know that others before her used this power; it stands to reason that Ruby can use it too, without… I don't know why it's done this to her – inexperience, maybe – but nothing that I know, nothing that we know, suggests that this is permanent. Ruby will come back to us. We just have to be… patient, it seems."

"I'm glad to hear it," Penny said.

"You're also dodging the question," Sunset pointed out, her eyes narrowing.

Penny fell silent. Her eyes, the only part of her that could move, flicked from side to side, looking at neither Sunset nor Pyrrha.

"Penny?" Pyrrha asked.

"I hate this," Penny admitted. "I wish that I could speak to you in my own voice. I wish that I could hug you. I wish that Ruby were here."

Pyrrha reached out and put a hand on Penny's sheet-covered shoulder. "We all wish for all those things, Penny."

"I don't even feel that," Penny said in what Pyrrha thought would probably have been a tone of lamentation if she had been able to put any tone into her voice at all. "I wish that I could. I wish… I wish that I wasn't such a disappointment. Such a failure."

Twilight frowned. "Penny, no one thinks that-"

"Penny does," Pyrrha said gently, "don't you?" She frowned in turn. "It doesn't matter if no one else thinks that way; it doesn't matter if everyone continues to hold you in the highest regard. Maybe we are our own worst critics, but that doesn't make the criticism any less real, does it?"

Penny's eyes widened. "But you can't possibly feel that way, Pyrrha."

"Can't I?" Pyrrha asked. "But you can?"

Penny was silent a moment. "I was created to save the world."

"And that has been my destiny, my dream, since I was old enough to understand what destiny meant," Pyrrha replied.

"What it might mean," Sunset muttered.

Pyrrha ignored that. "You're not the only one who failed underneath Mountain Glenn."

Penny looked into Pyrrha's eyes. "Is this about the tunnel? I heard… I mean-"

"Rainbow told us what happened," Twilight murmured apologetically.

Pyrrha winced. "Well… what happened down there was… certainly less than ideal," she conceded, "and I am… I regret that Ruby had to put herself in that condition saving my life, but… no, that is not what vexes me most about what happened beneath the city of the dead."

"No?" Penny asked.

"No," Pyrrha agreed, shaking her head. "Whatever that grimm was, it was… rather large, probably very old, and undoubtedly rather powerful. If Ruby hadn't been with us, I'm not sure what we would have done… but I must confess that I'm struggling to think what any huntsman or huntress would have done." She smiled, if only a little. "Except, perhaps, for you. With your laser cannon, you're perhaps the only one of us, the only huntsman that I can think of, who might have stood a chance against that beast."

"But I wasn't there," Penny said, "because I had already been taken out by some guy."

"You were taken by surprise," Pyrrha argued. "At least you weren't stymied in single combat, the one thing that you are supposed to be supremely good at-"

"Are you two really going to stand or lie there arguing about which one of you sucks the most?" Sunset snapped. Her gaze was sharp, and her ears were pressed down angrily into her hair. "You..." – she took a deep breath – "you are both idiots! And that's saying something, coming from me!"

Pyrrha looked at her, and as she looked at her, she straightened up, her hand leaving Penny's shoulder. "Sunset, I-"

"And you were the one who pointed out that we won!" Sunset added.

"Well… yes," Pyrrha murmured. "But that doesn't mean that I can't be disappointed in myself."

"Why, because you didn't beat Cinder?" Sunset said. "Did it ever occur to you, when you were lamenting that your vaunted prowess did not enable you to carry all before you like a tidal wave swamping the shore, that you probably don't get to be Salem's champion if you're not pretty damn handy in a fight yourself?"

"I'm not a fool, Sunset," Pyrrha said, in a tone of soft rebuke. "I didn't expect to defeat Cinder easily."

Sunset snorted. "If it helps at all," she said, "I doubt that Cinder is crowing over her victory. If she even considers it a victory at all. She was expecting you to be a pushover, you know."

Pyrrha's eyebrows rose. "A… a pushover."

"That's… one of the reasons why she hates you," Sunset informed her. "She thinks that you're-"

"Hollow," Pyrrha whispered. "A name, and someone who owes everything to that name, someone with more wealth and unearned prestige than actual ability."

A moment of silence descended on the room.

"How did you know that?" Penny asked.

"She wouldn't be the first," Pyrrha declared. Even Arslan had believed it so, once upon a time. "Usually, I prove those who think such things of me wrong in a far more decisive fashion."

Sunset rolled her eyes. "It's nothing to beat yourself up about."

"I am the Champion of Mistral," Pyrrha said proudly. "I am… I am the Invincible Girl."

Sunset's eyes narrowed. "I thought you didn't like that name."

"I… I liked the fact that I had never lost a battle."

"You still haven't," Sunset pointed out.

"Perhaps that is so, but it is no longer true that I have won every battle, is it?" Pyrrha replied.

"You are my best friend," Sunset said, "but you'll forgive me if my heart doesn't bleed for your injured pride in this particular instance. And you," she added, looking at Penny, "yes, you've been injured. I'll even concede that you have been injured badly, and that being what you are, being injured is… a little harder on you than for the rest of us. But look at this." She pulled up her purple tunic to reveal the scar on her belly from where Adam had stabbed her. "You remember where I got this?"

"On the train," Penny said.

"On the train," Sunset agreed. "On the train, saving Twilight. And I'll carry it with me for the rest of my days, a token of his esteem. Ruby nearly got cut in half and would have died on the docks if Jaune hadn't found his semblance at just the right time, you remember that too?"

"Yes," Penny said, "but I don't understand-"

"It happens to the best of us," Sunset said firmly. "It happened to Ruby, it happened to me; now it's happened to you as well. About the only person that it hasn't happened to is the Invincible Girl over there who is busy pounding on herself because she's only the Invincible Girl now, and not the Undefeatable Girl, what a tragedy!"

"Sunset," Pyrrha began.

"Do you have any idea how lucky you are?" Sunset demanded. "How lucky we all are? We faced death down there in Mountain Glenn: chills, that ursa thing, that even worse grimm with the bones, Adam Taurus, Cinder's team, Cinder, an entire grimm horde! We walked into a city of the dead, and we came out again. Every last one of us, and we got Applejack back, and we got Fluttershy back, and we fought a battle at the end of it on top of everything else!" Sunset's voice was rising in pitch, trembling with agitation. Tears started to prick at the corners of her eyes. "And we survived. You all survived, and yet, you have the gall to stand here and lie there and complain that you didn't win as hard as you wanted to, that you didn't live up to your own expectations. But you're alive. You are both alive. We are all alive, and that… that is worth the dinging of a reputation, don't you think? That is worth celebrating more than… more than anything else is worth mourning, right?"

"Practice what you preach," Pyrrha said softly.

"I may be a hypocrite, but that doesn't mean I'm wrong," Sunset retorted. She wiped at her eye with one hand. "Pyrrha, if… if anything happened to you, it wouldn't just be Jaune's heart that broke. And Penny… I admit that we don't know each other very well, but you've been a really good friend to Pyrrha and Ruby, and you're a sweet kid, and… and I'm glad that I have the chance to get to know you better."

She stepped forward, holding out one hand as she did so, and as she stepped forward, her outstretched hand glowed green, the green light of Sunset's magic enveloping Penny – sheet and all – to lift her and her covering, which wrapped around her like a hospital gown, off the bench and into Sunset's embrace. Sunset wrapped her arm around her, gloved fingers almost reaching up to Penny's hair.

A smile crossed Sunset's face, even as tears continued to form in the corner of her eye. She looked at Pyrrha, and her smile widened a little as she held out her free hand.

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment, before any resistance that she might have possessed crumbled in the face of Sunset's smile, the passion that was almost anger in her voice as she rebuked them both, the words spoken with, she had to admit, both head and heart. Any resistance that she might have possessed crumbled in the face of the fact that it looked rather nice and inviting over there. She leapt over the bench, her boots tapping on the floor as they hit the ground for a moment before she enveloped Sunset and Penny in her arms and felt Sunset's other hand upon her back in turn.

"Perhaps we can do this again when I can feel it?" Penny asked.

Sunset laughed, her whole body trembling. "Sure, Penny," she agreed. She bowed her head, resting her forehead upon Pyrrha's shoulder. "You're alive," she said, her voice a little more muffled now because of where she was. "You're alive, and that is worth so much more than your records or performances. That is… that is everything."

"As the General would say," Twilight said, before she cleared her throat and deepened her voice in a not particularly good impression of General Ironwood. "That you made a mistake doesn't say anything about you; what says everything about you is how you learn from it afterwards."

"That was terrible," Sunset said bluntly.

"I know," Twilight admitted. "I can't get my voice deep enough."

"But what am I supposed to learn?" Penny asked, as Sunset – releasing Pyrrha at the same time – levitated her back down onto the bench, still covered in her sheet.

"Well," Pyrrha said, walking past Sunset to the bench where Penny's swords, detached from her, were all laid out, "you were injured when Lightning Dust was able to shock you through the wires connecting you to your swords, correct?"

"That's right," Penny said.

"Hmm," Pyrrha murmured. "May I?" she asked, gesturing to one of the swords.

"I don't mind," Penny said. "Is it okay, Twilight?"

Twilight shrugged. "I don't see why not."

"Thank you," Pyrrha said softly as she picked up one of the blades from off the workbench.

It was longer than she was used to in a sword, much longer than Miló in sword configuration, as long even as her weapon in its spear form. She held it thoughtfully in one hand and then shifted into a two-handed stance. It felt natural in either one.

"These are fine swords," she said. "Do you know how to use them?"

"Of course," Penny said. "You've seen me using them."

"I'm not talking about directing them through the wires," Pyrrha said. "I'm talking about holding them in your hands. Do you know how to do that?"

She suspected that the answer was no, purely based upon the fact that she had never seen Penny do so.

"No. I've only ever trained to use the wires."

"The swords aren't designed for handheld use," Twilight said.

"Sunset, would you mind giving me some space?" Pyrrha asked. Sunset did so, retreating into the far corner of the room while Pyrrha flowed like water through several sword stances, rapidly moving from form to form, striking down imaginary enemies all around her. "The balance is excellent," she said. "The weight is tolerable, and the edge is sharp. These blades might not have been designed to be wielded, but whoever designed them knew too well what they were doing to produce an inferior weapon."

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," Twilight said, "They were Doctor Scarlatina's contribution. Amongst his many talents, he's also the finest bladesmith in Atlas. He probably couldn't design a bad sword if he wanted to."

Pyrrha set the blade down upon the bench. "If you had been facing Lightning Dust with a sword in your hands rather than blades upon wires, then any shock she might have inflicted on you would have been absorbed by your aura, the same way it would if she delivered me a shock through Miló. At present, it seems you're rather vulnerable against electrical attacks, but that wouldn't be the case any more. And you wouldn't be at such a disadvantage fighting in enclosed spaces. Something to think about when you get back on your feet."

Penny's eyes were wide. "You could work out what the problem was just like that? You're amazing, Pyrrha."

"Hardly," Pyrrha said. "This is very rudimentary. Have you found your semblance yet?"

"My father isn't sure that I have one," Penny said.

"If you have aura, then you have a semblance," Pyrrha said. "And you can unlock it with proper training." If she could unlock it then, depending on what her semblance was, it would be another way for Penny to protect herself or engage her opponents without having to rely solely upon her ability to direct her swords.

"Do you really think so?"

"Do you think that I would lie to you?" Pyrrha asked earnestly.

"No," Penny said at once. "Of course not. I'll keep trying. Thank you, Pyrrha."

Pyrrha smiled. "You're very welcome, Penny."

"Sunset," Penny said. "Can I ask you something?"

Sunset grinned. "Do you want to know what I really am?"

"Yes," Penny replied. "I'd like to know; if you're not human, then what are you?"

The smile remained on Sunset's face as she raised a hand and levitated a blank piece of paper up into the air beside her. Moving across the room so that she was once more within Penny's sight, Sunset twitched her fingers, and the paper began to fold, delicately and with great precision, fold after fold compounding upon one another until what had been a sheet of paper just a few moments ago had become, through no magic at all – save the fact that Sunset hadn't actually used her fingers – a perfect origami unicorn which settled in the palm of Sunset's hand.

"You can do origami?" Pyrrha asked.

Sunset glanced at her. "I can do anything that I set my mind to, Pyrrha," she said breezily before she showed the paper unicorn to Penny. "I," Sunset said, "am a magical unicorn from the land of Equestria."

"Really? You don't look like a unicorn," Penny pointed out, not unreasonably.

"No," Sunset allowed. "But that's because I travelled to this world through a magic mirror, and that magic turned me into this, so that I could fit in here amongst all of you."

"I see," Penny said. "So why did you come here?"

Sunset hesitated for a moment. "Because… because I wanted more," she said. "All my life, I felt as though I deserved more. So much more than they had planned. And so, I sought a place where I could make a life for myself. A great, splendid life, unbound and unbounded."

"That sounds wonderful," Penny said.

Sunset shrugged. "Well, it brought me here, so it wasn't all bad." She grinned.

"What's it like, the world you come from?" Penny asked.

"Equestria?" Sunset said. "Equestria is… Equestria is… where do I even start? Equestria is a very silly place, the sort of place where ponies decorate in hearts for no reason at all except because they can, the kind of place where songs break out in the streets just because one pony felt like singing and everypony else felt compelled to join in, the sort of place where… where the apples are always juicy and red, and the sun is almost always shining. I suppose you could say it's a picture book sort of world, like something out of a fantasy… except it's real. A world where unicorns wield magic just like mine, where pegasi control the weather and walk on clouds, where earth ponies can feel the rhythm of the land beneath their hooves."

"That all sounds so lovely," Penny declared.

"Yeah," Sunset murmured. "Yeah, it… it really is."

"I wish I could see it for myself," Penny said.

Sunset was silent for a moment, thrusting her hands into her jacket pockets as she looked down at the origami unicorn that she had made. She furrowed her brow. "You know," she said, "let me know when you get better, because it's possible, just possible, that I might just be able to make something happen."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Request and Revelation
​

I'm aware that this is quite a request on my part.

I mean, you could certainly say that, yes.

Although, in my defence, it is only two visitors; it's not like I want you to allow the whole Academy through the portal. However, in my prosecution, I should admit that I didn't consult with you or Princess Celestia when I probably should have before I told my teammates and Blake and Penny — and Penny must have told Rainbow as well, because there's nowhere else she could have found out — and your counterpart here in Remnant about Equestria.

Do you trust them?

I wouldn't have told them if I didn't.

Then I don't consider that a problem, and I don't think Princess Celestia would consider it a problem either. Your new request, on the other hoof, well, that's something else, isn't it?

Sunset ran one hand through her hair. Yes, her new request. The request that she probably should have made before she had spoken to Penny, but … well, she'd seemed so down, and after they'd gotten to talking about Equestria…

It seemed the right thing to do at the time. Although that doesn't mean much, it wouldn't be the first time that I've done what seemed to be the right thing at the time, only for it to turn out to be emphatically the wrong thing. However, as far as I can see at the moment, this not only seemed like the right thing at the time, but it still seems like the right thing.

Twilight did not reply. Not at once, not for some time. Not for so long, in fact, that Sunset began to wonder if something had happened to her; nothing serious, she hoped. Nothing serious, she thought; this was Equestria, after all; it wasn't likely that some masked home invader had burst into the library and taken Princess Twilight hostage — not least because they didn't have home invaders in Equestria, or guns for that matter. However, it was not beyond the bonds of possibility that Twilight had been called away on some urgent business — a summons from Princess Celestia telling her that she needed to put on a play or organise a reception for visiting ambassadors or save the world or something; Twilight's days seemed to consist of a mixture of such things — in which case, Sunset might be waiting for some time. Twilight might not even get back to her until tomorrow or later.

Still, Sunset sat. She was presently in the library, dark and silent, where the light above her kept intermittently going out because she wasn't moving around enough to trigger the motion sensors.

She had been spending more and more time here over the last few nights. She couldn't sleep, and she didn't want to disturb the others — only Yang was allowed to spend nights at the hospital with Ruby, since she was her actual blood-and-law kin; although they would have all liked to have spent at least some nights with her, it wasn't allowed — so she haunted the library in the middle of the night, reading or looking up pointless trivia on the computers, coming up with team attacks that did or did not make sense, depending on just how sleep-deprived and fogged over her mind was at the time — Pyrrha throwing Jaune with her semblance was not a good idea, and she would not be sharing it with the rest of the team. Sometimes, she fell asleep here; sometimes, she went back to the dorm room after midnight and collapsed into bed for a few hours before waking up to start the new day.

Even then, sometimes, she didn't sleep. Whether she slept or not, it made her feel no more refreshed than she had been before, no less tired; waking or sleeping, she was haunted by the dead.

They hovered around her, whispering in her ears.

Who is the other?

You're back.

I wasn't gone that long.

You were gone for a little bit.

Who is the other?

What do you mean?

You said that you only wanted for two people to come to visit Equestria; one of them is Penny, but who is the other?

Oh, yes. I think that Blake might get something out of it as well.

Really?

Really. Penny isn't the only one who had a rough time down in Mountain Glenn. To be honest, many people had a rough time down beneath Mountain Glenn, but Penny and Blake had it amongst the worst, and I think they would get something out of visiting Equestria that others would not.

Was it bad?

Sunset stared down at those three words. Was it bad? Was it bad when Blake had to fight the man she loved and watch him die?

Was it bad? Was it bad when Penny was broken, to all intents and purposes?

Was it bad? Was it bad when Jaune lost the ancestral sword, his connection to his heroic past?

Was it bad? Was it bad when Ruby got put into a coma saving the rest of them?

Was it bad? Was it bad when Sunset got six people killed?

Was it bad?

Three words. Three words which, however innocently meant and well-intentioned, seemed scarcely adequate to encompass everything that had gone on beneath Mountain Glenn, all that they had done and all that they had suffered.

Yes, is the short answer. As for the long answer, I scarcely know where to begin. We were not prepared.

You're not talking in physical terms, are you?

No. Would that I was. No, we were not prepared for what we would find down there, or for what it would demand of us to survive.

But you did survive.

Yes. Yes, we survived.

You don't really want to talk about it, do you?

No. Although that doesn't preclude the possibility that I should.

She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts, staring down at the page and at the words she had already written. What to say? How to go on? How much to explain? What to leave out? She decided to be very brief, to not go into too many details, to say only what was necessary to convey the harrowing nature of what they had been through down there underneath Mountain Glenn.

We came under repeated attack. Which would have been a little wearing but which we could have weathered, on its own. But it was not on its own.

Sunset breathed deeply. There was much of this that she did not want to say, and yet, at the same time, she felt that she ought to say it, not only in the interests of truth, but because … because Twilight was the only person to whom she could say some of it.

We met Salem under there.

You mean the Mistress of the Grimm? The immortal enemy?

The very same.

She was there supervising the attack herself?

No, I suppose I ought to clarify that it wasn't exactly her in person; it was a projection of her. She had a creature, like a crystal ball with tentacles sticking out of the bottom

Thank you for that mental image.

You should thank me, I haven't described the worst of it, nor will I. But the point is that she appeared to us in the crystal ball-like thing. She showed herself to us.

What was she like?

She looked like the corpse of a drowned woman.

Again, thank you for that mental image.

Trust me, it isn't any nicer for me to think of either.

She thought that possibly the only reason she wasn't having nightmares about Salem was that she was having nightmares about the six dead Valish instead. There was even an extent to which that was preferable.

She wasn't a pretty sight.

Evil seldom is, I must admit. Chrysalis gave me nightmares for a fortnight after my brother's wedding.

The changeling queen?

She has holes in her. Holes! As though she is starting to rot away, as though maggots and grubs are eating her up from the inside out. It's unnatural.

And, being unnatural, it is creepy and disturbing in equal measure.

Just like Salem, I take it?

That was not the worst part.

She took a deep breath. Her hand trembled slightly as she held the pen.

She got inside our heads. She played on our fears and our desires; she put the fear in us: in the Rosepetals, in Pyrrha, in Blake, even in Ruby. I didn't think anyone or anything could get to Ruby like that, but she reduced her to a huddled, sobbing mess on the floor with a few words.

I take it that they weren't just very well chosen words?

I would bet everything I own that there was magic at work.

To what end? I mean, why was she even doing that?

To delay us? To see what we were made of? For fun? I don't know what was in her mind, and I'm not sure that I want to.

And you?

And me?

Were you affected by her?

Sunset paused. She closed her eyes, screwed them up tight. She found her breathing becoming more rapid.

Yes. Yes, I was. I tried to hide it in front of the others, I even think I did a pretty good job of hiding it, but yes, she got to me. She threatened my friends, made me angry; at first, I was glad of it, for the anger gave me the strength to shatter her orb, and her power with it. She was gone, she couldn't trouble us any more — not that she's dead, you understand, the real Salem is still out there somewhere — but after the anger fled, there was only the fear. The fear of losing them. That was why, when Adam showed his face, I did something very stupid.

Go on.

I grabbed him and teleported him away so that I could fight him alone with no one else around me.

Yes, you're right, that was stupid.

Ruby was there; he already nearly killed her once.

Nearly killed you as well, something which I haven't mentioned to Princess Celestia.

An omission for which I am very grateful, believe me. I wouldn't want her to worry.

But you're fine with me worrying?

Do you worry about me?

It's the middle of the night; do you think I'd still be up writing to you if I didn't care?

Sunset hadn't considered that in any sense, a fact for which she felt guilty, now that it had been pointed out to her.

I'm sorry, I should have considered; go to bed, we can pick this up tomorrow or some other time.

It's fine, please, go on.

Obviously, it isn't fine, or you wouldn't have brought it up.

I'm more concerned with the fact that — as we established very early on — it's the middle of the night for you as well. What are you doing up so late?

I like the nights, I get my best thinking done at this time.

There was a pause before any reply came from Twilight.

Evidently, you survived Adam, or you wouldn't be writing to me, so what happened?

I fought him. I did better than he might have expected, but not brilliantly. I fear my luck was running out before Blake came to my aid. She fought him, and again, did well enough, but not brilliantly. The tide was turning in his favour before I killed him.

A few moments passed, absent any kind of reply.

I hope you'll forgive me if I don't congratulate you.

Believe me, I don't want congratulations. I know that I sought this. I know that I spoke to you about wanting it, and about the necessity to do it, but once the moment came, once I actually did it, I felt none of the joy or vindication that I had expected. I did what I had to do in that moment, to protect Blake, but it brought me no pleasure. It has brought me some glory, which would have pleased me once upon a time, but now, it does nothing for me. I killed a man, and that is no longer something for which I wish to be celebrated. I didn't take his sword, I didn't crow about it, I only took credit for it because I'd rather the White Fang came after me for revenge than Ruby, Pyrrha, Jaune, or Blake. Blake saw him die, and before that, she found out that maybe he wasn't irredeemably awful after all. He had taken Fluttershy and Applejack — the human versions of Fluttershy and Applejack — hostage, and yet, he let Fluttershy go. Out of the kindness of his heart, or because her heart moved him to kindness, one of the two.

Is there that much difference? Fluttershy is an amazing pony — my Fluttershy, this — but I don't believe that she can create kindness in a heart that has no trace of such.

What about Discord?

Discord is actually a perfect example. Fluttershy didn't make him kind; she didn't banish evil from him and replace it with goodness. I don't think she even planted the seed of kindness in him. But she gave it room to grow; she watered it and shone the sunlight on that seed. I believe that any kindness Adam showed her was in him all along, however well hidden.

Sunset screwed her eyes tight shut for a moment. Should it be seven lives for which I feel guilty?

You'll forgive me if I don't pass that on to Blake. I doubt it would make her feel any better.

Or you?

That's less important, but no, it doesn't make me feel any better either.

I'm sorry, but I'm not sure that there's anything I could have said in this situation that would have made you feel better.

No. I think you're probably right. I much preferred when I could think of him as a mad dog.

It may bring you no joy, but I think that it might be better this way; perhaps you should remember this, before you decide you have the right to deal out death and judgement: that which you see of your enemies is not all that there is in them to be seen.

At the moment, it's Pyrrha who needs to learn that, not me. She is upset with herself that Cinder escaped her. Another one who has more to her than is seen by the world. She frightens Pyrrha the way that Adam frightened me, and in her fear, she seeks her death as I sought his. Like me, she sought to confront Cinder alone, unaided. Jaune was somewhat put out with her about that.

Is Pyrrha okay? I'm guessing you would have mentioned it earlier if she wasn't, but is she?

She is physically unharmed, which is more than can be said for Penny or Ruby; she believes that we won the battle, which is more than can be said for Jaune or Blake. She is probably the best of us, in terms of her condition; whether that alone allows her to rise to the level of being said to be okay is a question that is harder to answer. I wish that I could help them all. I wish that I could take their pains, even if it means taking them upon myself, I wish there was some spell that

Sunset paused for a moment.

Now, there's an idea.

No. No, there really isn't.

Sunset sighed. Unfortunately, you're probably right. If there was such a spell, it would probably have side effects, like causing amnesia or something.

I'll go further and say that amnesia would probably be the intent of this hypothetical spell, to make people forget their emotion, or the event that triggered it. That's not a route I recommend.

Is there anything that you do recommend?

You could talk to your friends as well as to me; instead of wishing that you could shoulder all their pain upon yourself, why don't you try and share it around all of you?

I don't think anyone is in the mood to talk about it.

I can understand that, but it doesn't mean they shouldn't. What about Professor Goodwitch, didn't she help Jaune deal with his problems after the battle on the train?

Yes. Yes, she did.

She could help again.

I trust her less than I did before I knew that she was a part of Professor Ozpin's network, but I will consider it. Will you at least consider my request?

Provided that it was carefully managed so that no one could accidentally find their way into Equestria, I would have no objections in principle, and given that you trust both Penny and Blake, I don't think that Princess Celestia would have any objections either. As for whether or not it can be done, I actually have an idea as to how that might be accomplished, and this will give me an excuse to put it into practice.

Sunset's eyebrows rose. You do? The practicalities were the obstacle I thought would be the hardest to overcome.

I actually need to credit Pinkie with this; I was discussing with my friends some time ago how, even if you wanted to come home to Equestria, it would be impossible since the portal between our two worlds is closed except at certain times. Pinkie pointed out to me that, although the portal is closed, our worlds are still connected via these journals that we communicate with.

So you can apply the magic of the journal to the mirror to enable it to work at will, while you can still use the journal to write to me any time when the mirror portal is not in use. That's actually quite brilliant; and that was Pinkie Pie's idea?

You'll forgive me if I don't dignify that with a response.

Sorry.

There was no need for me to see if it actually worked before now, although I'm pretty sure it will. What I'm not so sure of is how this will help Penny or Blake.

As for Blake: Equestria is a post-racial society, to all intents and purposes, having put aside old divisions and come together in a spirit of harmony and equality. I think it would do her good to see that such a thing is possible, even if it does take time and hard work.

I'm not sure about the extent of the comparisons between the three pony tribes and humans and faunus in Remnant, but I see your point. And Penny?

I think Penny would enjoy it.

Surely you could say that about any number of people?

Perhaps, but Penny was the one who said that she'd love to see my home for herself. And I think, sweet as she is, that she would enjoy it more than anyone else that I could think of.

I suppose that's as good a reason as any. As I say, I don't have any objections to the two of them, and although I won't claim to speak for Princess Celestia

You have as good a claim as any pony does to speak for Princess Celestia.

Nevertheless, I won't presume, save to say that I don't think she'll object.

Thank you, Twilight. I will pass that on, and I'm sure Penny will be delighted. I'll let you know when she's fit to travel.

And I'll let you know when the portal will admit her — and Blake. What do you think Penny will become on the other side of the mirror?

I really have no idea.

Neither do I, but it's fascinating to ponder, isn't it?

A moment passed, and then another, before Twilight continued.

I don't suppose we can expect you to pay a visit to Equestria with them? You could come as a chaperone.

They don't need a chaperone, or at least Blake will be a more than adequate chaperone for Penny. They might need a guide; can I ask you to take care of that?

I will do it, but so could you if you were inclined. You know that Princess Celestia would be delighted to see you. I'd kind of like to meet you face to face as well.

I mean no disrespect to Princess Celestia, and no insult to you, when I say that it cannot be so. I have not earned the right.

I see. You have not earned the right, well, that's quite understandable, isn't it? Are you ready to talk about yourself now?

Sunset frowned.

What do you mean?

I mean that it's the middle of the night, and you're still up with no indication that you were planning to turn in any time soon; you've mentioned what a rough time everyone had down in Mountain Glenn, but you haven't said much about yourself, you've talked about taking everyone else's burdens on your shoulders while glossing over your own, you just told me that you don't have the right to come back to Equestria, and even before that, you talked about things not working out the way you expected; now just what am I supposed to take away from that? What's going on, Sunset, what happened down there?

Once more, Sunset's hand trembled. Once more, she stared down at the page in front of her. She felt ice enclose its cold grip around her stomach.

And yet, if not to Twilight, then who can I confess to?

But her hand kept trembling as she began to write the words.

Adam is not the only death upon my conscience.

I'm sorry. Are these more enemies? All your friends are accounted for?

Neither friends nor enemies.

She hesitated, considering how she could even begin to phrase this.

Princess, what would you do if you had to choose between your friends and some kind of higher cause, higher purpose, that sort of thing? If you had to choose between the many and the few, but you knew the few and the many were strangers to you, what would you choose?

I chose my friends.

Sunset's eyebrows rose. Did she just…?

Come again?

Are you surprised that something like that could happen in Equestria?

Sunset could almost feel the heaviness behind each word; she could sense the weariness within them.

It doesn't seem like the kind of thing that happens in the land that I remember. Would you like to talk about it?

Are you enjoying this?

No. Not at all. Not in the least bit, not for a single moment. I just want to know if you want to talk about it. Truth to tell, I feel ashamed for wittering on about myself for so long and ignoring your burdens. I have been very selfish. I didn't even consider that you might be weighed down. I marvel that you've been so patient with me.

It's fine, really. I don't begrudge your desire for counsel. I know that my life is a great deal easier than yours, on the whole.

But would you like to talk about a time when it was not so?

There was a moment of pause, when no new words appeared on the paper, before Twilight's distinctive, elegant hornwriting resumed.

Tirek escaped from Tartarus recently. Did Celestia teach you about him?

No. But if he escaped from Tartarus, I'm guessing that he can't be anyone good.

He wasn't. He was a I don't suppose it really matters what he was. But he escaped, and he started consuming magic. All of it, from unicorns and pegasi and earth ponies alike, it was all the same to him. It was all power. Nobody could stop him, so Celestia, Luna, and Cadance gave up their alicorn magic to me so that I could hide it. Hide it or use it, if I had to.

Which, of course, you did.

Yes. He found me, and I fought him. I couldn't beat him, but he couldn't beat me either. We were at a stalemate, evenly matched, but when it came down to it, I traded all the alicorn magic in Equestria to him in exchange for my friends the moment that he took them hostage and threatened their lives. They even told me not to do it. But I did it anyway. I handed Equestria over to a monster because those girls mean everything to me. I'd give my life for them, but I don't think that I could live without them.

I know exactly what you mean. Believe me, I know exactly what you mean. Fortunately, the very fact that you are able to write to me implies some reversal in your fortunes.

Indeed, thank goodness. We were able to defeat Tirek; he could absorb all of our magic except for the magic of friendship that bound us together. That was how we beat him.

If only I could say the same.

I'm glad you're okay, at least. And Princess Celestia too.

But there really is no backing out now.

I had a choice of my own to make. The White Fang's plan was to load their army upon a train and use a great quantity of stolen dust to blow a way into the city itself. Cinder's plan was to have that train followed by a great horde of grimm — it was they, and not the White Fang, whom she trusted to overrun the defences of Vale and lay waste to the city. If we had known, or at least if I had known then what she intended, or if I had thought about it for long enough and not let the wild enthusiasm of Ruby and the others carry me off, I would have ordered a withdrawal from Mountain Glenn.

But I was not so wise, and we were so eager and so vain of our skill, and everyone else was so determined to do all they could and risk all that they were to save Vale that we boarded the train before the grimm pursuit began. With my magic, I reached the front of the train first; we planned to stop it in its tracks and make a barrier of it.

I reached the front of the train and found the detonator there. A detonator, at least, Rainbow — my Rainbow Dash — tells me there must have been another in Cinder's possession, but in any case, I found a detonator there. A detonator and Cinder's voice, informing me that all other exits out of the tunnel had been sealed off, there was no way out from underground except to use the detonator and blast a path into the city.

As I say, I had a choice to make: I could either guarantee the safety of the city in exchange for what seemed to me to be a certain chance that my friends would perish, or I could put the city at risk in exchange for increasing the chance that my friends would be safe.

And you, too, chose your friends, just as I did.

But I was not so fortunate as you. We won the battle, and the city was saved — but not without loss. As I said, I have more deaths upon my conscience than just Adam Taurus. The Atlesian military was alerted to the impending attack — by your counterpart, as it happens — but six people died nevertheless: five civilians and one of my classmates.

I'm sorry to hear that.

There was a delay before she added. Forgive me, I scarcely know what else to say.

You wanted to know what the matter was with me.

I did, and I thank you for telling me. It's just that now you have told me, I do not know how I should respond.

If you wish to condemn me, I will bear it.

No. No, I will not do that. I do not have the right. You chose your friends, as I did, I will not condemn you for being less fortunate than I, for not possessing the key to victory as I did, for not having access to a magic that would redeem all errors as I did.

Of course, that being so, I have no right to absolve you of your guilt, either. For we are guilty of the same mistakes, only I am preserved from consequence in ways that you are not.

You think your actions a mistake, then? And mine, too?

In truth, I know not. A part of me fears — and thinks, what is more — it must be so, but there are other parts of me that feel otherwise. Sunset, do you regret your choice?

No. I do not regret my choice. I regret the consequences that flowed out of my choice, I regret the deaths that resulted from it, but I would make the same choice again if I had to. I do not have it in me to condemn Pyrrha, Ruby, Jaune, Blake, or even Rainbow Dash to death. I do not have it in me. I am not made of such. And yet, though I do not regret the choice, nevertheless, like you, I fear it was the wrong choice. I am certain sure that it was not the choice of a hero.

Then it appears that we are neither of us heroes.

Oh, come on! I defy any biographer to tally up the number of times you have saved Equestria and then say that you are not a hero.

Is that all there is to call oneself a hero? Deeds? A tally of the number of times the world was saved? The number of foes vanquished? I think you know better than that; being a hero is a quality of heart and spirit

And you have both, or else Princess Celestia would not have placed her faith in you.

She placed her faith in you, once, yet that does not stop your self-reproaches.

Touché, and yet you cannot deny that you have walked the path with more success than I.

And yet, here we are. When Princess Celestia asked me to bear this charge, I declared that I was ready to do my duty as a princess of Equestria. Literally, my exact words as I stood in the throne room were 'This is the role I am meant to play as a princess of Equestria! I will not fail to do my duty!' Looking back at that moment, and those words, I almost want to cringe at the unearned pride and baseless arrogance on display. I was puffed up on destiny and the well-intentioned praise that Princess Celestia and Princess Luna and Cadance had all showered on me to convince me that I could do this.

Trust me, you aren't alone when it comes to unearned pride and baseless arrogance. There are things that I said and thought going into Mountain Glenn that, like you, make me want to cringe. I was so cocky, so confident, I told myself that I could defy anything that fate had in store for us, and I convinced the others of it too.

I thought that I had finally found my destiny, the reason why I had become a princess, the reason I'd been given these wings, I thought that this was what I was meant to do, the part that I was meant to play. Now

Twilight paused for a few moments before continuing the sentence.

I am not sure that it was so.

At least you can say that it is appropriate for a Princess of Friendship to choose her friends over the greater good.

I don't find that very funny.

Then it's a good thing I wasn't trying to be funny, isn't it? I was trying to offer some small comfort, although I do not say that I was doing well.

If that is what it means to be Princess of Friendship, then is a Princess of Friendship such a good thing for Equestria to have?

Yes, as it happens. How else was Tirek to be defeated? Destiny, it seems, moves in a mysterious way. You should take comfort from that.

In ways that you cannot?

It didn't all resolve so neatly for me.

She ran one hand through her fiery hair.

They haunt me, Twilight.

Who?

The dead, Sky and all the rest of them.

This feels like eavesdropping on the relatives of a patient in hospital.

Sorry, I impose too much.

It's not your fault, I just don't know what to say. I can't imagine anything like it. I'm sorry.

I'm not the one who deserves your sorrow.

Your friends know what you did, don't they?

They were right there, telling me not to do it.

And how have they taken the fact that you did it anyway?

We don't talk about it. Maybe we should, but they don't seem to want to, and I don't want to either. Perhaps it's better that way, as strange as it seems to suggest such a thing. Perhaps there is such a thing as too much honesty, and we can all go on pretending that it didn't happen. It's certainly easier than the alternative. Do your friends

No. Well, Rainbow Dash knows. She tells me that I shouldn't take it so hard. She tells me that Cinder wouldn't leave her plan to chance on the risk that I would choose not to detonate the mine. She thinks that my actions didn't change anything.

Have you considered that she might be right?

I have, but I don't see that it matters. Whether or not things would have happened the same way regardless of what I did, the fact remains that I did this thing, and other things resulted. The rest of my friends don't know, and they can never know; there's no way that they'd forgive me for it.

I should probably tell you to take the risk and be surprised by their capacity for forgiveness, but I don't have the right to do that either, as we've just discussed. But are you so certain of their reaction?

I am certain of Ruby's reaction, at the least. She would have condemned us all.

Forgive me, but that doesn't sound like an altogether good thing.

I agree with you, but, as we've already established, we're not heroes, unlike Ruby. Goodnight, Princess Twilight, I will not keep you up any more.

Will you at least try to get some sleep yourself?

I will try, yes. Goodnight.

Let me just leave you with one more thought: it's no bad thing to care about your friends, or to fear to lose them. You've come a long way, Sunset, don't forget that. Goodnight.

Goodnight, Princess.

She shut the book, and pushed it across the table away from her a little bit, and let out a long sigh as she threw back her head.

Contrary to what she had said to Twilight, she made no move to get up and go to bed herself. She didn't even try. She just sat there, staring up at the light until it turned off from her lack of movement, at which point, she was just sitting there, staring up at a dark ceiling, waiting … for what?

She had no idea.

The light switched on again, not just over Sunset's head but all around, the lights switching on leading towards the way into the library. Sunset looked around to see Pyrrha approaching, Pyrrha clad in her huntress gear, with the pale library lights reflecting off the bronze of her armour and the golden band around her arm and the circlet upon her brow. Her ponytail swung behind her ever so slightly as she approached, with her hands resting by her sides. Her footsteps echoed in the otherwise silent library.

Her brow was slightly furrowed, pinching her pale face as she walked towards Sunset.

"Did you know," she said softly, as if the library were full of people she feared to disturb, "that whenever you use your scroll to gain access to any part of the campus, it logs your location?"

"No," Sunset said, speaking equally softly as her hands reached out towards the magical journal. Her gloved fingertips touched the leather cover. "I didn't know that." She paused. "Why are you dressed like that? Up late training with Jaune?"

"No," Pyrrha murmured. "Although a few late night training sessions wouldn't go amiss, if I could find an opponent. As for Jaune, it's hard to train with a broken sword."

Sunset winced. "Has he decided what he's going to do about that?"

"Not yet," Pyrrha replied. "The point is that I put this on because … because it seemed appropriate, before going into battle."

"Battle?" Sunset repeated. "Who are you fighting?"

"You, I'm afraid."

"Me?" Sunset shook her head. "I wouldn't fight you, Pyrrha. I know better now."

"Sunset," Pyrrha said reproachfully. "I spoke to Professor Goodwitch because I wanted to know where you were going every night, why your bed was empty. She told me, from your scroll records, that you were coming here. Why?"

Sunset looked away. "I don't feel like sleeping."

"Why not?"

"I don't know, does it matter?"

"Yes, it matters," Pyrrha insisted, her voice sharpening. "It matters because you know full well that if I were behaving like this, you would stop at nothing to find out what was going on and how you could fix it. Please don't be so arrogant as to assume that you are the only one who can notice a friend in trouble or do anything about it."

Sunset closed her eyes for a moment. "You don't need to help me, Pyrrha."

"You wouldn't let that stop you, either."

"That's different."

"No, it isn't, and you know it isn't," Pyrrha declared. "This is nothing to do with being team leader or not; this … this is a simple matter of friendship. What's wrong, Sunset? How can I help?"

Sunset did not meet Pyrrha's eyes. "Your offer is generous, but … I fear that you cannot. Just as I think that…" She trailed off.

If you did tell your friends the truth, they might surprise you.

No. No, I dare not.

"You know what's wrong," Sunset finished.

Pyrrha bowed her head a little. "May I sit down?" she asked.

"Be my guest," Sunset murmured.

Pyrrha took the seat opposite. She looked down at the book beneath Sunset's fingertips. "That is the book, isn't it? The magic book?"

Sunset nodded. "It is."

"And what does your princess say?" Pyrrha asked. "If you can tell me; I don't ask you to betray any confidences."

"I mainly talk to … my princess' latest student, or former latest student," Sunset explained. "Someone closer to my equal. To my princess, I speak somewhat less frequently. I believe she is well enough, although there were some disturbances recently."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Pyrrha said, "but glad that everything is better now."

"Things are usually settled fairly swiftly in Equestria," Sunset said. "Would that the same could be said here."

"Indeed," Pyrrha whispered. She fell silent for a moment, and then a moment more. "Sunset, misery and grief will not bring Sky and those other five poor souls back to life. Nor will it bring them any aid or comfort for you to … you must live. We all must."

Sunset raised one eyebrow. "I must confess I'm surprised to hear that from you. That seems … a very modern attitude."

"You have taken to Mistralian ways very well in some respects, but in this, you are more Valish, or Atlesian," Pyrrha replied. "In Mistral we do not mourn excessively. We … when my father died, almost as soon as his funeral was over, my mother rolled up her sleeves — metaphorically speaking, of course — and got back to work, managing her lands and portfolio."

"Some might find that callous," Sunset observed.

"Perhaps," Pyrrha allowed. "But how would it serve my father's spirit for my mother to sink into such a despond that the House of Nikos crumbled into rack and ruin?"

"Is that why you can be so cavalier with your own safety?" Sunset asked. "Because you do not expect Jaune or me or even your own mother to mourn excessively if we lost you?"

"We're not discussing me."

"Perhaps we should."

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. "I … my mother, at least—"

"Would die the death, the moment news of your death reached her," Sunset declared. "What would she have to live for, the future of the House of Nikos being stolen away, her line extinguished? As for Jaune and I, as you correctly point out, we are not Mistralian."

"Yet it would serve me not if you wept all your tears for me, if you sought hopeless battles, becoming heedless of your own—"

"We cannot always act based solely on what serves others best, not even the dead shades of our dear friends!" Sunset snapped, her voice rising. "We are ruled not always by our heads but by our hearts, our hearts that would be shattered by the loss of you."

Pyrrha met Sunset's gaze. "Is your heart shattered now?"

Sunset shook her head. "But my stomach is ill, and my head is guilty."

Pyrrha pursed her lips together before she spoke. "Death is not something to be sought after eagerly, but nor can it be escaped. It will come for all of us, and for a warrior, it will likely come swifter than for others. If we die ourselves with every loss that we suffer, then … we do not honour those who fell."

"If Jaune died," Sunset said, "would you roll up your sleeves — metaphorically, of course — on the day of the funeral?"

"That's a rather unfair question," Pyrrha murmured.

"Perhaps, for which I apologise," Sunset said. "And yet, at the same time, a rather pertinent question, don't you agree?"

Pyrrha glanced away. "I mean to see that he does not fall."

"That is not an answer," Sunset pointed out.

Pyrrha swallowed. "I never claimed to be a perfect Mistralian," she conceded.

Sunset could not restrain a laugh. "No," she admitted. "No, you did not; that is very well put. I will concede the point."

"I would rather you conceded my main point," Pyrrha said. "We must live, Sunset. For all that we have left to live for."

Sunset was silent for a moment. Pyrrha … Sunset was not a Mistralian, and yet, Pyrrha talked a great deal of good sense. It was, if truth be told and Sunset be honest, a more sensible attitude than some of the Mistralian pride and honour that Sunset had embraced with greater readiness. It felt like callousness, and yet was it not more callous that she would make again the choice that had condemned those souls to death? How did her not sleeping, or haunting the library, or anything else help the dead, help Sky or any other?

It wasn't even helping Sunset feel better.

Sunset doubted that anything would help her to feel better, and that was probably as much as she deserved, but while she was feeling guilty, she could at least be useful to the people who were still counting on her — Pyrrha, Jaune, Ruby when she woke up — instead of a melancholy lump or sleep-deprived mess.

Sunset would not sleep the sleep of the just — she was under no illusions on that score — but she could at least rest her weary body for more than a few snatched hours.

"Thank you," she said softly.

Pyrrha smiled with equal softness as in Sunset's voice. "Any time," she said. She got up and held out her dark-gloved hand. "Are you coming?"

Sunset picked up the journal with one hand, and placed the other into Pyrrha's palm, and let the other girl lead her out of the library as the lights went dark behind them.

 

[ScipioSmith]

What Did I Miss?​

Sunset rubbed her eyes. She was a little too tired to deal with this right now. Unfortunately, it wasn't likely to wait for her to start sleeping better. "So… your dog is talking now?"

Spike the dog poked his head into view of Twilight's scroll screen. "Yeah," he said. "And I don't know how I got by without it."

Sunset blinked, several times and very rapidly. "Okay, that… and you think that my magic had something to do with this?"

"I know that your magic had something to do with it!" Twilight replied vehemently.

"I saw it," Spike explained. "This green light came out of the bottle, and it flew towards me – sort of; it kind of took its time – and then it touched me, and I could talk."

"Is that what your magic does?" Twilight asked. "Is that how you can be a unicorn?"

"Well, yes, but no, not in the way that you mean," Sunset said quickly. "Yes, I am a unicorn because I have magic, or to put it another way, I have magic because I am a unicorn – it's a very phoenix and flame situation – but no, Equestria is not a land of talking animals-"

"You admitted to Penny that you were a talking horse."

"Unicorn," Sunset insisted. "Horses are twice the size and half the cuteness. My point is that we have pet dogs just like you do, and none of them talk."

"Then why is Spike talking?" Twilight demanded.

"I don't know; does it matter?" Sunset asked. "You're not unhappy, are you? You don't want him to change back?"

"I don't want to change back," Spike pointed out.

"And I respect Spike's choice," Twilight said. "But that doesn't mean that I don't want to understand what happened, and why, and whether it will happen again."

"It won't happen again," Sunset assured her. She paused. "It probably won't happen again."

"'Probably'?" Twilight said, outrage and uncertainty mingling in her voice.

Sunset sighed. "Twilight, I have control over my magic when it is in me, a part of me, but the moment that I sever that link, as I have done in order to give you your sample, I lose control over it, and it becomes wild magic, and wild magic is unpredictable by nature. You didn't take the lid off, did you?

"No!"

"Then maybe put some duct tape around the lid; it might stop it happening again."

"That isn't terribly reassuring," Twilight said dryly. "So there's no way to know that this isn't going to cause any more trouble."

"I don't think that it is causing trouble," Sunset answered. "It's doing things, but you've accepted that Spike is fine the way he is, and some people might say that he's improved."

Twilight frowned. "Are you saying that your magic is trying to help?"

"I'm saying that it wants to be used," Sunset said. "Nature abhors a vacuum; magic abhors idleness. Think of it like a muscle; if it isn't used, then it will atrophy, except that this muscle can-"

"Get up and walk around on its own?"

"Yes, in the last extremity."

"But how am I supposed to study it if I can't even get it out of its container without it doing things of its own volition?" Twilight asked. She seemed to catch herself. "'Of its own volition'... Is it alive? Can it-"

"Be communicated with?" Sunset guessed. "No, it's not sapient, and I'm not sure I'd even go far as to call it alive. It has… instincts, I suppose, which possibly makes it living, but it doesn't feel, it doesn't… it's not an animal."

"But how is Twilight supposed to study it?" asked Spike.

"It can't be communicated with, but it does possess understanding," Sunset said. "At the moment, it's acting out because it's been cooped up, but once you let it out and start to do things with it, even if those things are just tests, then it will sense that and calm down."

"And when all the tests are done?" Twilight asked.

Sunset was silent for a moment. "Get rid of it or keep it somewhere very secure."

Twilight's eyes narrowed. "That isn't exactly incredibly helpful."

"Sorry," Sunset murmured. "I just… to tell the truth, I'm not exactly sure what you want from me, Twilight."

Twilight sighed. "Neither am I. I suppose I was hoping for a reassurance that it wouldn't happen again, but I suppose that was too much to hope for."

"If it makes you feel better, it's not that powerful," Sunset said. "I didn't give you that much magic. It might be enough to make Spike talk, but nothing drastic."

"You don't think a talking dog is pretty drastic?"

Sunset shrugged. "He's only a small dog."

"Hey!" Spike protested. "Still, I guess if the magic does get out again, maybe it'll do more good things, like it did for me."

Twilight scratched behind his ears. "Maybe, Spike, but – no offence – I'd prefer it if this didn't happen again. And I think Rainbow would prefer that too. Will locking it away help?"

"It might do," Sunset said. "It's worth a try. I… I'm sorry that I can't be of more help."

"It's fine; it was a long shot. You gave this to me, and if I'm not taking proper care and precaution, that's my fault not yours. And what did I expect you to do, teleport onto the ship and fix everything?"

Sunset smiled. "You're a little far away from me right now."

Twilight smiled back. "So, how's Ruby doing?"

"Oh, you know," Sunset murmured. "The same as-"

"Sunset!" Jaune's voice, raised in a frantic cry, interrupted Sunset before she could say any more.

Still holding up her scroll, Sunset turned around to see Jaune standing at the door leading down off the rooftop.

"Come on!" Jaune urged. "Ruby's awake!"

A beam as bright as sunlight spread across Sunset's face. Her ears pricked up, and the weariness of just a moment ago seemed banished as the darkness is banished by the light that Jaune's words spread all around them. Ruby was awake. Ruby was okay, Ruby was back, the worry and the uncertainty and the ordeal were over, Ruby was awake!

Sunset looked back at Twilight, her mouth opening.

"Go!" Twilight said, grinning brightly. "And give her our love."

"I will," Sunset promised. "Speak to you later. Bye." She hung up hastily and thrust her scroll into her jacket pocket as she started to walk – so rapidly that she was almost running – towards Jaune.

And towards Ruby.

XxXxX​

Ruby felt Zwei's tongue upon her cheek before she opened up her eyes on the unfamiliar ceiling above her.

She caught a sight of grey and black fur to the side of her as she blinked against the light shining down into her face. She half-closed her eyes as she started to sit up.

"Ruby?"

The voice belonged to Pyrrha, who was standing not far from her side in what Ruby could now see was a hospital room. Hers was the only bed occupied in the ward; Yang, Ruby noticed, sat by her bedside, asleep, her head resting on Ruby's bed and her face obscured by her long golden hair. Jaune stood on the other side of the room, and his attention must have been elsewhere because it seemed as though it was Pyrrha's voice that drew his eyes in Ruby's direction.

A smile spread across his face. "Ruby!" he cried. "You're awake!"

Zwei yelped happily, even as Ruby pulled him away from her face, an act for which she compensated by starting to give him a belly rub.

"Hey, Jaune," Ruby said, with a smile. She spoke softly, so as not to wake Yang. "Hey-" Memories flood back to her as her gaze turned from Jaune to Pyrrha: the tunnel, the grimm, a desperate situation, a feeling of hopelessness, a bright light and then nothing at all.

"Pyrrha!" she shouted, relief making her voice riser higher than she had intended. "You're okay!"

Pyrrha smiled, and her tone remained soft and gentle as she reached out and took one of Ruby's small, pale hands with both of hers. "Yes," she murmured. "Yes, I'm alright, thanks to you."

"I'm so glad," Ruby said, lowering her voice for Yang's benefit. "The last thing I remember…" She looked from Pyrrha to Jaune and then back again. "Is Sunset okay? Did she-?"

"Sunset's fine," Jaune assured her. "Physically, at least. She had to take a call from Twilight, but she'll be right down. I'll go and tell her that you've woken up." He walked to the door into and out of the room, sliding it open with a juddering sound of the rollers. He half-stepped through the now open doorway, and then paused, looking back at her. "I'm really glad to see you're okay."

A smile blossomed across Ruby's face, watered by the happy news that all of her teammates were safe. In a slightly reproachful tone, she said, "You say that like it's such a surprise."

Jaune frowned. "Ruby... you've been asleep for over a week; nobody was sure when you'd wake up or... or if you'd wake up."

The smile faltered upon Ruby's face. "But I… what happened down there?"

"Jaune, why don't you go and get Sunset?" Pyrrha suggested. "You know she'll be upset if she finds that we didn't tell her at once that Ruby had woken up."

"Right," Jaune nodded. "I'll be back in a jiffy."

He closed the door after him, muffling the sounds of his rapid footsteps as he went in search of Sunset.

Ruby turned her attention wholly to Pyrrha. "This isn't going to be one of those things where you act all weird and cryptic and don't tell me what's going on, is it?"

Pyrrha's smile was a little tight. "No," she declared. "No, I'm going to tell you everything; I just didn't want to keep Sunset in ignorance while we did it. Ruby, what do you remember? The last thing?"

Ruby blinked. "I remember you. That grimm had caught you in its bone whip thingy, and it had caught Sunset too, and Jaune and Blake and everyone were trying to get you free, and they weren't doing anything, and… I was worried that I was going to lose you. Lose both of you. I didn't want to. I didn't want that, and I… and that's about all I remember."

Pyrrha glanced down at Ruby's hand, still held in her own. She gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I see," she said softly. "Ruby… you used your silver eyes down there in the tunnel."

Said silver eyes widened in astonishment. "Really?"

Pyrrha nodded. "The light was… blinding, and when it cleared, we could all see that you had turned the grimm to stone. Sunset destroyed it with magic after that. You did it, Ruby; you've unlocked the power within you."

"But how?" Ruby asked. "I mean, mom's journal said that Silver Eyes were controlled by positive emotions, right? But all I felt down there in the tunnel was fear, so how… how?"

"Perhaps because you only feared to lose us both because you care for us?" Pyrrha suggested. "For which I am touched and very grateful."

Ruby brushed that compliment off. "That sounds like cheating to call that a positive emotion."

"If so, then I, for one, am very glad you cheated," Pyrrha replied. "I owe you my life, Ruby."

"No, you don't."

"Yes," Pyrrha said earnestly. "I do. That grimm… I wouldn't have escaped its clutches without you and your silver eyes; I don't think any of us would have been able to withstand that grimm but you. As I say, I owe you my life, and for that reason, I owe you a great debt besides, one which-"

"Pyrrha, stop," Ruby urged. "You don't owe me a debt; you don't owe me anything. You're my teammate, and my friend, and that means that I'll always look out for you, just like you'll always look out for me. You don't owe me anything." She grinned. "I've got your back, no matter what."

Pyrrha managed to muster a slight smile. "Nevertheless, I feel indebted to you. I'm not used to needing rescue."

"Some grimm are really tough," Ruby said. "You know that. Some grimm are born – or made, whatever – that way, and some get that way when they get old and smart. Some grimm give even a trained huntsman problems."

Pyrrha nodded at that. "I think that, out of all of us, not counting your magic, only Penny's laser cannon would have been sufficient to defeat that grimm, and Penny was not with us."

"How is Penny?" Ruby asked. "Is she okay?"

"She is no better than when last you saw her," Pyrrha said with a sigh. "Team Rosepetal have returned – or are returning – to Atlas with her, where she can be repaired. Blake went with them, and Rainbow Dash's friends who were held captive in Mountain Glenn."

"Right," Ruby murmured. "I'm sure she'll get be- I'm sure she'll be fixed soon, but I wish I could have said goodbye."

Pyrrha squeezed her hand once more. "Sunset and I visited her on your behalf and said our goodbyes for you, as they said theirs to you to us to pass along."

Before Ruby could ask anything else, she heard the sound of footsteps moving rapidly, and kind of heavily, along the corridor outside. The door was flung back on its rollers with a crack, and Sunset Shimmer stood in the doorway, her chest rising and falling with her breath, her ears perked up, her tail twitching.

Her eyes were sharp and fixed on Ruby.

"Hey, Sunset," Ruby offered, waving her free hand. "I'm awake."

Sunset stared at Ruby in silence for a moment, then for a moment more. At last, she said, "I'm sorry about this, Pyrrha."

"Sorry about what?" Pyrrha asked, before Sunset's hand glowed green, and Pyrrha's chair was telekinetically yanked backwards, scraping across the linoleum floor and tearing Pyrrha's hands away from Ruby as Sunset cleared a path for herself to stride around the bed. For a moment, she stood over Ruby, casting a shadow over the younger, smaller girl, then she grabbed Ruby and pulled her into a wrenching hug, her head pressed against Sunset's chest as she, Sunset, sat down on the edge of Ruby's bed.

"Never do that again," Sunset demanded. "Okay? Don't do that again."

"Save your life?" Ruby asked, her voice slightly muffled by the way that Sunset's arm was in her mouth.

"Ha ha ha, smartass," Sunset muttered. "You know what I mean."

"No," Ruby murmured. "I really don't."

Yang moved. The way that her face and head were hidden beneath her great mass of golden hair made that movement seem like the stirring of some terrible creature, an unseen horror that lurked beneath the surface, with only the disturbance of the ground to give it away.

The creature shifted, making the golden blanket that obscured it rustle and ripple before Yang emerged, blinking, from beneath the mass of her own hair. "What is all of this- Ruby!" She shot to her feet. "How long have you been awake?"

"Just a few minutes," Ruby said, through Sunset's stifling embrace.

"A few minutes!" Yang yelled, shoving Sunset hard enough to send her staggering away, her grip on Ruby gone. Her eyes flashed red. "Ruby's been up for a few minutes, and you all just let me sleep? Bunch of… seriously?"

Now it was her turn to grab Ruby and pull her into a binding hug, tugging her first this way and then the other as Yang swayed in place.

"Don't do that again," Yang urged.

"People keep saying that, but I don't get it," Ruby said.

"Don't get it?" Yang repeated. "Did one of you tell her how long she's been out for?"

"I did," Jaune said.

"You've been asleep for a week, and you don't get it?" Yang demanded.

"I saved Pyrrha," Ruby pointed out. "And Sunset."

"And that's good," Yang conceded. "But couldn't you have saved them in a way that didn't nearly give me a heart attack? I didn't know if you were going to wake up; nobody knew for sure if you would wake up. When you started reading about your silver eyes in Mom's journal… Mom never said anything about putting herself in a coma!"

"Well, we don't know what happened when Mom started out," Ruby said. "She was already using her eyes when she came to Beacon. Maybe I need to start using it more often."

"That's a fine theory," Sunset said. "But, considering that the only way we've found to get your eyes to work is to expose you to an otherwise unbeatable grimm and almost die in the process… I hope you can understand a degree of reluctance."

"Mom said that they could be activated-"

"By positive emotions," Sunset interrupted. "What did you feel down there in that tunnel?"

Ruby hesitated for a moment. "Scared," she admitted. "Scared of losing you."

"I suggested that perhaps that fear, since it was driven by concern for us, was in itself a manifestation of love and friendship," Pyrrha murmured.

Sunset's eyes narrowed. "That sounds like cheating to me."

"That's what I said," Ruby added. "But why would Mom lie in her own diary?"

"Maybe she wanted to mislead her enemies," Sunset suggested. "Maybe she was misled."

"What about Professor Ozpin?" Jaune said. "He taught Ruby's mom, right? Maybe he knows something that can help Ruby."

Sunset folded her arms. "I don't like the sound of that."

"I think it's a good idea," Ruby said. "He promised to talk to me about my Mom once we got back."

"I like that even less," Sunset muttered.

"Sunset," Pyrrha said reproachfully, getting to her feet and placing one gloved hand on Sunset's shoulder. "Your insistence on distrusting Professor Ozpin, I know that you mean well by it, we all know that you mean well and that you think that you're looking out for our best interests-"

"I am looking out for your best interests!"

"Professor Ozpin is not only the headmaster of Beacon but also-" Pyrrha stopped, glancing at Yang.

Unfortunately, Yang had noticed it too, "Professor Ozpin is also what?"

Ruby swallowed. Professor Ozpin had instructed her not to tell Yang about any of this, but now that Pyrrha had let slip, what were they supposed to do? It was one thing not to tell Yang something; it was something to outright lie to her face.

"Professor Ozpin," Sunset said, gently shrugging off Pyrrha's hand, "is not only our headmaster, but also the reason we were down in that tunnel in the first place."

"We volunteered for that," Jaune reminded her.

"As Rainbow put it to me: we're kids, we're allowed to make dumb decisions," Sunset declared. "The adults in the room are supposed to know better."

"What was Professor Ozpin supposed to do?" Ruby demanded. "Tell us that we were too young? That we weren't ready? We'd been on real missions before, without supervision-"

"I didn't really understand that either," Yang muttered.

Ruby ignored her, continuing, "Our enemies aren't going to wait until we graduate-"

"What enemies?" Yang demanded. "Is this about the White Fang? Why do you have to be the ones to take them out?"

"An excellent question, Yang," Sunset said. "Graduated huntsmen, Atlesian specialists-"

"You know why we were chosen for this assignment," Pyrrha said.

"I DON'T!" Yang shrieked, as smoke started to rise from out of her hair. "Will you please stop talking around the issue and explain to me just what the hell is going on?"

Silence fell in the room. Ruby found that she couldn't look at her sister, much less meet her eyes. She looked away, looking at Pyrrha, who seemed to be similarly uncomfortable.

"We should tell her," Jaune said. "We told Blake. You told us."

"Tell me what?" Yang asked.

"I'm not supposed to tell," Ruby murmured.

Jaune looked at her. "Ruby?"

"I… I was going to tell you before we left for Mountain Glenn," Ruby explained. "But Professor Ozpin found me first and asked me not to."

She still didn't look at Yang. She didn't dare look at Yang. Her sister's voice, when it came, was quiet and small, "So… so that's it? Professor Ozpin asked you not to tell me, so you're not going to tell me."

"Yang-"

"I'm your sister!" Yang cried. "I'm your sister, and I didn't know-"

"I'm training to be a huntress, Yang; we all are," Ruby said. "There's always a chance that we might not come back, like Mom-"

"Don't bring Mom into this; you're not Mom!" Yang yelled. "Mom had already graduated; you're fifteen years old and a first-year student and LOOK AT ME!"

Ruby looked, her head snapping round. Yang's eyes were deep crimson, but there were tears in them at the same time.

Yang's breath was ragged, coming in sobs as her chest rose and fell. "You… you don't remember what it was like losing Mom," she said. "You were too young, you didn't understand what was happening then, and all that you understand now is that Mom died a hero, fighting the good fight."

"Because she did."

"That didn't make me feel any better!" Yang snapped. "Knowing that she died a hero couldn't tuck me in at night or read me a bedtime story! You were too young to realise… you don't remember how hurt Dad was by losing Mom. How hurt I was."

She bowed her head, her bangs casting a shadow over her face and obscuring her eyes from view. "I know that this is dangerous. I know that, even as students, we're not safe. And I know that this is what you want to be, and so I keep how I feel to myself, and I don't let it show, but… you're a first-year, but you're already involved in real huntsman stuff, and I don't know why, and now you won't even tell me."

"I can't," Ruby said plaintively, though it sounded inadequate even to her.

"Why not?" Yang demanded. "Why can't… you know what, it doesn't matter. If you can't tell me, you can't tell me. I wouldn't want you to disappoint Professor Ozpin. I'll get out of your hair, and you can talk without worrying about what I might hear that I'm not supposed to."

"Yang-" Ruby began, but it was too late; Yang had already strode out of the room, slamming the door behind her so hard that there was a cracking sound like something breaking.

"I'll take care of this," Sunset said, striding towards the door. It seemed a little stiffer when she tried to open it, but nevertheless, she was able to force it open, then close it again more gently than Yang had once she was on the other side.

"Yang!" Sunset called, her voice muffled by the door and wall. "Yang, wait!"

Ruby bowed her head, a picture of misery spreading across her face. Yang… did Yang really-?

"I'm sure she didn't mean it," Pyrrha said, her voice gentle and urgent at the same time. "Her anger gives her words a barb that she did not intend."

Ruby didn't look up. "How can you be so sure?"

Pyrrha's boots tapped lightly on the floor. "Because, although I do not know your sister too well, I have had occasion enough to observe her behaviour around you," she said. "And it has not been the conduct of someone who has nought but misgivings that they are hiding well. I do not say that there is no truth in what Yang said, but it is not the whole of the truth, and only her being upset makes it seem otherwise."

"I'm sure she worries about you," Jaune added. "She'd hardly be your sister if she didn't." He had spoken lightly, with a laugh sounding on the verge of entering his voice, but he quieted for a moment, before he went on, "But it doesn't mean that… Yang knows how good you are."

"Yang knows your quality as we all do," Pyrrha said.

With her head bowed, Ruby felt rather than saw Pyrrha sit down on the edge of the bed and place one arm around Ruby's shoulders. Her embrace was a good deal less fierce than Yang's or Sunset's had been; she gave it with but one arm and with a lightness of touch that would have made it easy for Ruby to shrug off if she wished.

Ruby did not wish to do so. Rather, though she did not look at Pyrrha still, she leaned in and rested her head upon Pyrrha's side; although the hardness of her cuirass meant that it was not the most pleasant thing to rest a head on, being able to rest it upon anything was comfort enough.

"Although," Pyrrha added, "like us, Yang may be… it is one thing to be ready to die, Ruby, but there are times you seem to yearn for it. If there is one thing of your sister's words I beg you to remember, it is the hurt that your father and sister suffered from your mother's passing and how hurt we would be by yours."

That wasn't something that Ruby particularly wanted to discuss. It had become clear to her some time ago that none of her friends really understood where she was coming from on this, and while they weren't exactly wrong about her – what did her life really matter? Just one life, easily replaced, easily given in service to a greater whole – they weren't exactly right either.

But she didn't want to argue. So she changed the subject, asking, "So… what did I miss while I was asleep? You're all here, and you mentioned that Team Rosepetal went back to Atlas, so I guess we're still in Vale, right? That means we won, doesn't it?"

The uncomfortable silence from Pyrrha and Jaune told her without words that it was not quite as simple as that.

"We won," Pyrrha confirmed. "But I'm afraid the victory was not without cost."

XxXxX​

"Yang!" Sunset called, her footsteps thudding as she ran to catch up with Ruby's stomping sister. "Yang, wait!" She reached out and grabbed Yang's arm by the wrist.

Yang rounded on her, eyes red as blood.

Sunset stood her ground. "I've seen scarier things than your party-trick recently," she said.

Yang glared at her for a moment. "You should be with Ruby," she growled, turning away once more.

Sunset's grip on Yang's arm once more, "Well, I'm making time for you, buddy," she said pointedly, hoping that Yang would remember.

Yang looked at her, her eyes lilac once more. She exhaled out of her nostrils like an angry bull. "Fine," she muttered. "What do you want to say?"

"Not here," Sunset said softly. "Let's go somewhere more private, let's go… there!" She pointed to a doorway, a doorway which led – as she found out as she hustled Yang inside – into a supply closet, with shelves of toilet roll and disinfectant and large sachets of soap for the dispensers all piled up in shelves climbing the walls.

It was cramped, and once Sunset shut the door behind her, it was also dark until her fumbling fingers found the light switch. But it was quiet, and it was isolated, and they weren't likely to be disturbed… by anyone except a janitor, anyway.

Sunset hoped to be done by then.

Yang had gone in first, or rather, Sunset had left her little choice but to go in first, and so, Sunset was closer to the door, blocking Yang's way if she wished to leave.

Yang leaned one elbow upon a wire shelf. "What do you want?" she demanded.

"I want to tell you what's really going on; you're welcome," Sunset said.

Yang frowned. "But Professor Ozpin-"

"Can bite my tail," Sunset said.

Yang hesitated for a moment. "Why?" she asked.

"Why what?"

"Why are you telling me this, when my own sister won't?"

"Because Ruby thinks too much of her duty and too little of her self," Sunset replied. "She and Pyrrha both have a touch of that, but Ruby has it worse. I should probably push back on it more than I do, but that's how you get the reputation of being a bad influence. So I indulge it and try to mitigate the worst effects as best I can."

"You make it sound like such a bad thing," Yang said, "to be devoted to duty."

"It is, when carried to excess," Sunset said. "And if you don't think so, why are you so upset?"

"I'm upset because…" Yang's mouth worked without words for a moment. She gestured at Sunset. "What makes you more trustworthy than me? What makes you deserve to know some big secret and not me? What makes you fit to go on dangerous huntsman missions and not me?"

"You sound jealous."

"No, I'm not jealous," Yang snapped. "I'm… okay, I am a little jealous; why you of all people? Why does it feel as though everyone trusts you, depends on you; why does it feel like you're at the centre of everything?"

Sunset raised one eyebrow. "Is that how…? It doesn't feel that way to me."

"You should try and see yourself from the outside," Yang replied. "But that's kind of by the by; it's not why I'm upset."

"Because you're not half as jealous of me as you are of Ruby," Sunset guessed. "And that jealousy is warring with your affection and getting all tangled up with it, and your worry about Ruby can't be entangled with you wondering why she gets all of this special treatment and you don't."

Yang was silent for a moment. "Both our mothers were trusted by Ozpin," she said softly. "That seems pretty clear from Mom's diary. Maybe Mom – maybe Summer Rose got special lessons from the headmaster, but it seems like he trusted both of them, trusted the whole team. He used the whole team."

"That's my understanding as well," Sunset murmured. "I bet if you read on in the diary, you'd find confirmation of that. As well as… other things."

"My mother left," Yang growled. "Raven… she took off. She took off when I was so young that I don't even remember her. I didn't find out that my Mom wasn't my mother until she was… my mother left, so I'm shut out, while Ruby's mother died a hero, and she gets to follow in her footsteps. How is that fair?"

"I think that the mother of both of you died a hero," Sunset said quietly.

"You know what I mean," Yang said.

"Yes, I do," Sunset acknowledged. "I don't know what Professor Ozpin is thinking, exactly. I don't know if it's anything personal; maybe he just likes my team better than yours, maybe it's Ren and Nora's fault." She grinned, but that grin faded when Yang – judging by the sour expression on her face – failed to see the funny side. "And on top of all of that, you're worried about her."

"I meant what I said in there," Yang murmured. "About Mom. Ruby was too young, she didn't understand; Ruby doesn't have any real memories of her mother, just… just an idealised image to look up to: fearless Summer Rose, champion of justice, defender of the innocent."

"And how much of that was your creation?" Sunset asked.

"I know, I know," Yang huffed. "But for the record, Mom really was amazing. I know that; I just… I don't have a lot of, well, facts about it. Dad and Uncle Qrow don't like to talk about her, so I-"

"Made things up."

"It's not lying if you do it for a good cause," Yang said. "Is it?"

"I hope not," Sunset muttered. Though I fear it is.

Yang turned away, putting both her hands upon the wire shelf. "I… I know that there are risks. And I know that this is what Ruby has always wanted to be ever since she was a kid. And I can reconcile that. I can. I'm not… I don't want her to quit, I'm not an idiot, I know that there might come a day when we put up a stone for her alongside Mom's memorial, but… fifteen. Is it wrong of me to want her to reach twenty before she dies?"

"No," Sunset declared. "No, it isn't wrong at all." She paused. "You're not the only one who worries about Ruby."

Yang glanced at her. "When I dragged you into the classroom and told you to shape up, I didn't think you'd start to care that much."

"You should know the effect that she can have on people," Sunset replied.

Yang snorted. "Yeah, I guess I should."

"Ruby's life…" Sunset said. "Ruby's life means more to me than… more than honour, more than glory, certainly more than my own life." She thrust her hands into her pockets. "Ruby's life means more to me than kingdoms," she confessed. "I swear to you, Yang, I won't let any harm come to her."

Yang smiled out of the corner of her mouth. "Don't make a girl a promise if you know you can't keep it," she whispered.

"Very well then, all that is within my power," Sunset said. She scuffed her foot back and forth, and her tail moved back and forth too in unison with her boot. "Listen, Yang… I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For taking the mission to Mountain Glenn," Sunset said. "I… I was cocky, and I was full of our skill and strength, and I wasn't ready for what we'd find down there. I wish I could promise that it won't happen again, but… I fear we may be past the point of no return."

"Why?" Yang asked. "What… what have you gotten yourselves into?"

"There were worse dangers threatening Vale than the White Fang last semester," Sunset said. In spite of the environment, in spite of the fact that they were alone, Sunset found her voice dropping. "The grimm have a leader, named Salem. She is… terrifying."

"'Salem'?" Yang said. "I've never heard of her."

"Professor Ozpin is keeping it that way," Sunset said. "He and his predecessors have kept her existence a secret for generations."

"'Predecessors'?" Yang repeated. "You mean the headmasters?"

"They're part of it, but it's bigger and older than them," Sunset explained. "There is… a conspiracy, a group of powerful people who work in the shadows-"

"And secretly rule it?" Yang guessed. "Come on, Sunset, this is cheap conspiracy thriller stuff."

"Except that it's true," Sunset insisted. "Professor Ozpin is the current head of a group that opposes Salem, a group that includes at least General Ironwood and-"

"Professor Goodwitch?" Yang suggested.

"How did you-?"

"Lucky guess," Yang muttered. "Oppose Salem how? And what do you mean, control the grimm, and if this has been going on for so long, how come nobody has-?"

"She can't be destroyed, apparently," Sunset said. And considering what she did to us, I'd be surprised if anyone can get close enough to try. "I don't know how she controls the grimm, or even if she does 'control' them, or she can just give them commands. I don't understand how it works. If Professor Ozpin knows, he hasn't told us. What I know is that she is the black king, and all the grimm – and Cinder, and the White Fang, all of the enemies we face – are just her playing pieces."

"Why?" Yang demanded. "What does she want?"

Sunset shrugged. "To kill us all? Does it matter?"

"And Professor Ozpin told you this?"

Sunset nodded. "He told me, Pyrrha, Rainbow Dash, and Twilight."

"And you believe him? You believe that this is someone out there commanding the grimm?"

"I've met her," Sunset said quietly.

Yang's eyes widened. "You what?"

"Under Mountain Glenn," Sunset explained. "She… she appeared to us. She wasn't there, exactly; she was using some kind of grimm I'd never seen before to show herself. She… she spoke to us. She showed us visions."

"How?" Yang asked. "What did she talk about?"

"I don't want to say."

"But-"

"I said, I don't want to talk about it!" Sunset snapped. She didn't even want to think about it; she didn't want to think about what had been said, about what had been seen… about what those visions had made her do.

Yang frowned for a moment. "Why…? Okay, I'll believe you, if only because it would be weird for you to lie to me when you could just not tell me anything, but… why? Why is Professor Ozpin keeping this a secret?"

"Because he fears what people would do if they found out," Sunset said.

"People like me, you mean?" Yang asked. "People like Raven?"

"I think your second guess was right; he trusted her once," Sunset murmured.

Yang nodded absently. "So… okay. The grimm have a leader. The grimm have a leader who can't be killed. So… isn't that just another day? It's just the same fight. Other than the fact that you know this, what does it mean for the four of you?"

"It means that we go on missions like the one to Mountain Glenn," Sunset pointed out. "Because Cinder was there, one of Salem's agents, that made it… more than just another mission."

"Sure, I can roll with that," Yang said. "But that just shifts the question back from 'why assign you to this mission' to 'why bring you into his secrets?' Why first year students, and not professional huntsmen? You said General Ironwood knows; why not his soldiers?"

"Team Rosepetal also know," Sunset said.

Yang's eyes narrowed slightly. "Does Blake know?"

"Yes," Sunset admitted. "Please don't be upset with her."

Yang shook her head. "Blake doesn't owe me the truth. Neither do you, for that matter."

"I'm not telling you all this for your enlightenment," Sunset replied.

"No, I know why you're telling me, but I'm glad all the same," Yang said. "And you think… but that would mean that Dad knows too, and Uncle Qrow!"

"That would be at least one professional huntsman who knows, at least," Sunset muttered.

"None of them said anything," Yang growled. "Not a damn word, from either of them!"

"Is that so surprising?"

"It's kind of annoying none of my own family would tell me this and I had to hear it from you," Yang said, her voice rising. "No offence."

Sunset smirked. "None taken."

"You still haven't answered my question, though," Yang said. "Why first year students?"

"You'd have to ask Professor Ozpin that," Sunset said. "Except don't, because then he'd know that you know."

"You can't really expect me to sit on this."

"I'd rather that you did, yeah."

"Why?"

"Because I'm the only person who would tell you this, so if you storm up to Professor Ozpin's office, it won't be hard for him to work out where you heard it from," Sunset declared.

"So?" Yang demanded. "You'll tell anyone who'll listen how much you don't like Professor Ozpin."

"Because I have to be on the inside!" Sunset cried. "Do you know why I agreed to become a part of Professor Ozpin's group? It's not because I like him, it's not because I trust him; it's because I don't trust him. It's because I couldn't be sure that if I said 'thanks but no thanks, Professor, I don't have the experience to handle this,' he wouldn't nod and accept it and then turn to Pyrrha and Ruby and Jaune and ask them anyway, and you know-"

"That Ruby would have jumped at the chance," Yang murmured.

Sunset sighed. "Yang… I would like nothing more than to be able to tell you that we're done. That after this, I have learned better, seen my limitations, that we won't take a mission like this again. But we're involved now, for better or worse, and the missions aren't going to stop. If I'm on the inside, I can protect Ruby and the others in ways that I can't if I get frozen out. Maybe… maybe if I'm not with them, then next time…"

Now it was Yang's turn to sigh. She turned her back on Sunset, her golden hair falling down behind her and covering her back as she placed her hands against the rear wall of the closet. "So Ruby… Ruby really is following in Mom's footsteps."

"It won't end the same way," Sunset said, in a voice as hard as steel. "I guarantee it."

"You can't-"

"Yes," Sunset insisted. "I can. I promise that this story will have a happier ending."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I'm not your mother; I'm not going to run," Sunset said, her voice rising.

She was surprised at herself for how easy it was to say those words. So easy that she hadn't even really meant to say them; they'd just come galloping out of her mouth. And yet, now that she had said it, she did not regret saying it, she had no wish to take it back, she could not tell herself that the words were in any way false. She had been considering her position, or at least, she thought that she had been considering her position. She thought that she'd been contemplating leaving them all behind, leaving Beacon, going… somewhere indeterminate that she hadn't made her mind up about yet. She'd thought that she had been giving serious contemplation to the idea that she didn't belong here, with them, anymore.

And yet, in a moment, in words spoken upon instinct, all of that was revealed to be false, bordering on delusional. Of course she wasn't going to go. Of course she wasn't going to be the member of Team SAPR that bailed, a latter day Raven Branwen, leaving her purer-hearted comrades to fend for themselves against the malice of Salem and the savagery of her servants.

That was not Sunset Shimmer. She was a lot of things, and not all of them were good, but one thing that she wasn't was a quitter.

Well, there was the time I ran away from Equestria, I suppose, but only because I wouldn't give up on my destiny.

I may not be a huntress, I may not deserve to be at Beacon, I may not deserve these friends, but… but I think they need me, as strange as it may sound. Maybe Summer Rose wouldn't have done whatever it was that got her killed if Raven had stuck around to remind her to think of herself every once in a while.

Regardless of whether they deserve me, or need me, they're stuck with me. I'm with them for… for as long as it takes. For forever, if need be.

I'm with them until they're safe. I won't leave.

"I won't pretend that there isn't danger in this," Sunset continued. "And I won't pretend that you're wrong to be concerned. And I won't patronise you by blustering about our skill in combat or our semblances, because you're too smart for that. But as much as I don't trust him, I do believe that we were chosen for a reason. We may not approve, but I don't think that he chooses lightly whom he admits into his confidence. We have something, and it's not just Ruby's heroic heart, or Pyrrha's; it's not my semblance or Jaune's; it's… it's the four of us. Together, the four of us have got something, a spark, if you will. I don't know if we can save the world, and I don't know if I'll always enjoy the experience of these assignments while I'm doing them, but I think that we can make it home safe, if… if anyone can."

Yang looked over her shoulder. "But you said-"

"I didn't say I'd necessarily want to do it," Sunset reminded her. "But I think we can. And I think we'll survive. No, I know we'll survive." She smiled. "Trust me. Ruby's in safe hands with us. And we're in safe hands with her."

Yang smiled as she turned around. "You always know what to say, don't you?"

"It's a gift," Sunset said casually. "Do you feel better now?"

"Strangely, yes," Yang admitted.

"Good," Sunset said. "Do you want to go back in, maybe make things right with Ruby?"

"Not right now," Yang said.

"She's upset," Sunset said.

"And I have stuff to think about," Yang said. "I will make it up to her, but… I need time to think. You get that, right?"

"I suppose so," Sunset conceded. "Just so long as you don't-"

"I don't, I get it," Yang said. "Hey, Sunset?"

"Yeah?"

"Ruby's lucky to have you," Yang said.

Sunset snorted. "Yeah, right," she said. "I'm lucky to have her."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Balance​

Ruby's hands clutched at the hospital blanket in front of her. "Six people… died?"

Yeah, that was about how I thought you'd take it, Sunset thought. And she couldn't even say anything about it, because it was her fault.

"Yes," Pyrrha acknowledged, from where she still sat on the edge of Ruby's bed, "but many more did not."

Ruby looked at her. "And that makes it okay?"

"That's not what she said," Jaune pointed out. "Of course that's not what Pyrrha means; what Pyrrha means is that… we can't let that tragedy drive out all the good."

"Indeed," Pyrrha murmured. "Yes, six people died, but the city was saved; the kingdom was saved, and only six people perished, despite the circumstances and the ferocity of a battle fought in the midst of Vale. That is… not a thing to be ashamed of."

"But we're huntresses!" Ruby insisted. "We're supposed to protect everyone!"

"You're not that naïve, Ruby, and we all know you're not," Sunset said, this answer coming far easier than it should. "We did the best we could, and so did Team Iron, Bluebell, Wisteria, Tsunami; the Atlesian troops; everyone who fought to lock down the Breach did the best that they could. Yes, we didn't save everyone, but I think we did a pretty damn good job, all things considered."

"There are things that happened down in Mountain Glenn for which we might reproach ourselves," Pyrrha murmured. "My failure to best Cinder being one, Sunset's departure from the rest of the team being another." Her vivid green eyes glanced pointedly at Sunset as she said that. "Things for which to reproach ourselves, yes, but I do not believe that our performance once the battle was joined at the Breach is one of them."

Ruby frowned. "So… that's it? We just have to accept it?"

"Do you think there is something that we could have done differently?" Sunset asked. "Something that we could have done better? I'm genuinely asking you, by the way; this isn't a trick or a rhetorical question to get you to realise that I'm right; if you genuinely believe that there is something we missed down there, then let's hear it. I promise that I'll take it on board for next time." She glanced at Jaune and Pyrrha. "That goes for either of you as well."

Ruby was silent, her brow furrowed, her expression a little vacant as though she was lost in concentration. Instead, it was Jaune who spoke first, saying, "Instead of having Pyrrha use the train to block the tunnel, could you have collapsed it behind us with your magic?"

"I doubt it," Sunset replied. "That tunnel survived for years with no maintenance; it was clearly pretty sturdily built. And we're talking about a lot of rock and concrete – deep enough to fill up the tunnel, thick enough that the grimm couldn't just burrow their way through it – I don't have that kind of power."

"That's what I thought," Jaune muttered, "but I figured it was worth asking."

"Could we have joined forces with the White Fang to fight the grimm?" Pyrrha suggested. "Perhaps together-"

"They were trying to kill us until after the train had stopped," Sunset pointed out. "They didn't exactly seem receptive to overtures of cooperation." She glanced away. Her tail flicked back and forth from side to side. "But we could have tried. It's something to bear in mind if we ever find ourselves in a situation like that again: just because someone is our enemy doesn't mean we can't cooperate in service of a larger goal."

"I…" Ruby began, and then trailed off immediately afterwards and said no more.

"Ruby?" Sunset asked.

Ruby shook her head. "You won't want to hear it."

Sunset's eyes narrowed. "Why not?"

"Because…" Ruby hesitated once again, but then she swallowed and seemed to resolve to press ahead regardless, "because if even some of us had stayed down the tunnel to hold the grimm off-"

It was all Sunset could do not to roll her eyes. "Celestia in the sunlight, Ruby! You're talking about a last stand!"

"Only one person had to carry the warning about the grimm back to General Ironwood," Ruby responded, "and any delay in the grimm getting down the tunnel would have given the Atlesians more time to redeploy to meet the grimm instead of the White Fang."

"And everyone who stayed behind would be dead," Sunset declared flatly. "Ruby… I will… I'm not sure that I will ever be able to understand you. You… you used your magic to save Pyrrha and me, you saw that we were about to die, and you didn't just shrug and accept that as the lot of a huntress, but now… and it's not just now, either, it's so often that you talk like…" She sighed and ran one hand through her fiery hair. "I have to be honest with you, Ruby, perhaps even brutally honest. The biggest reason your willingness to talk of throwing lives away so casually isn't repellent is the fact that you don't actually follow through with it when push comes to shove."

"It's not throwing lives away," Ruby insisted. "It's sacrifice."

"What's the difference?" Sunset demanded.

"One is pointless; the other is what we're pledged to do!" Ruby declared. "The reason that grimm got loose into the city was time. It's that simple. General Ironwood was expecting the White Fang, and so he'd set up a wide perimeter. Then he found the grimm were coming, so he tried to tighten his perimeter, but it was too late. He didn't have time. Time we could have given him if we'd stood our ground and held off the horde. You know I'm right. You all know I'm right."

Jaune and Pyrrha both looked intensely uncomfortable, neither of them able to look at Ruby nor at one another, but neither of them said anything to dispute her point. Jaune shuffled his feet awkwardly while Pyrrha clutched at her sash with her free hand.

"I don't know that you're right," Sunset said, the words dropping from her mouth like lead weights, crashing to the ground. "I don't even know that these two know that you're right, only that they don't have the… I don't know what to call it, but they don't want to take you on with this, especially when you just woke up. Well, if you're going to wake up and start talking like that, then you can't complain when you get talked back to: I don't think that you're right. I think that you might be right, in the sense that, with more time, General Ironwood could have established a tighter perimeter, but there's no way that you can say for sure that it would have been so tight that that one single grimm wouldn't have gotten through regardless. In the first place, Rainbow Dash wouldn't have agreed to it-"

"How do you know?" Ruby asked.

"Because we've talked about it," Sunset replied. "We've talked about… sacrifice, as you call it. Except it's not what Rainbow herself would call sacrifice. She won't tell me, and I won't go behind her back to find out, but I think she lost someone. Someone who gave their life for pride or honour or because their dignity was too precious to be forsaken and too precarious to withstand the perceived shame of retreat. I think if you had proposed some last stand down in that tunnel, she would have told you no."

Ruby's lip twisted in distaste, bordering upon disgust. "So after all her talk, she's willing to just abandon those she's supposed to protect? She's willing to back down from a fight?"

"Rainbow believes in living to fight another die, is that so wrong?" Sunset asked. "If you die fighting a hopeless battle, then who fights the next battle? And say… I don't know, say that we agreed with you, to turn at bay and fight, say that Rainbow and Applejack got out, what then? Do you think that Yang would have waited there at the tunnel mouth when she got out? Don't you think she would have gone in after you, and Ren and Nora with her, because her heart wouldn't allow her to just stand by and let you die even if her head told her there was nothing she could do? What about protecting their lives?"

"Would you?" Ruby asked.

Sunset blinked. "Would I what?"

"Would you have turned at bay, if I'd suggested it at the time?" Ruby asked.

Sunset swallowed. "We can't throw bodies at the grimm," she said. "We won't win by trading our lives for theirs; there are more of them than there are of us."

"What about saving lives?"

"You don't know that!" Sunset shouted.

She could accept that she had done the wrong thing, but what Ruby was talking about was… she could accept that throwing dust onto a fire as she had done, was wrong – she had put people in danger by her act – but what Ruby was talking about was the equivalent of the fireman refusing to retreat before an inferno because he with his one hose might slow down the blaze for a little bit before he was consumed by the flames. And that… that, she could not condone.

She bowed her head, if only for a moment. Her ears drooped. Her tail fell limp behind her. Once more, she ran her hand through her hair as she looked up.

"Ruby, I… there are times when you… I love you, but I don't know how to explain to you that you should prize your own life dearly."

Ruby's voice, when it came, was soft and small. "And I don't know how to explain to you that, as the protectors of the world, our lives aren't worth as much as those whom we defend."

Sunset exhaled lightly through her nostrils. "No, Ruby, you can't explain that to me." She hesitated. "All of that probably makes me sound very selfish to you," she murmured. "I mourn Vale's losses. I mourn Sky. When I go to sleep, I see their spirits all around me, clamouring to know why I let them down, why I let them die, why I failed them." She closed her eyes. "'I was a butcher, I was a carpenter, I was a waitress, I was a housewife, I was a clown. We are those who trusted huntsmen to keep their vows.'" She shuddered, her whole body trembling. "Those words echo in my mind over and over again, and yet…" She opened her eyes, to find Ruby staring at her still, those silver eyes gleaming so brightly. "There are times when I envy your courage, Ruby, and your steadfastness in sticking to your beliefs, but… but I cannot share them. I cannot think so little of our worth and the worth of our existences."

"I…" Jaune began tentatively. "I'm not so sure that Professor Ozpin does either."

Sunset and Ruby both looked at him – as did Pyrrha, come to that – but it was Ruby who asked, "What do you mean?"

"You and Sunset, who feel so differently about this," Jaune pointed out. "It's almost as though you're at opposite ends of a scale, selflessness and… selfishness."

I'm not completely selfish, Sunset thought. And for that matter, martyring yourself without thought for those left behind might, in itself, be said to be a form of extreme selfishness.

Although I suppose that if that is so, it would still put Ruby and I at opposite ends of a hypothetical scale.

And I suppose Jaune didn't say which of us was which.

"But you're partnered up," Jaune went on.

"Pairings are random," Ruby pointed out.

"Are they, though?" Jaune asked.

"Not always," Pyrrha admitted. "I… I chose you for my partner," she added, a flush of colour appearing at her cheeks. "But I'm not sure how Professor Ozpin could be influencing the selection process."

"As simply as by placing students on the catapults so that certain students land closer to the partners he'd prefer for them," Jaune suggested, "and he wouldn't even need to be obvious about it, like a good magician isn't obvious about which card they want you to take."

"To what end?" Sunset asked.

"Balance," Jaune replied. "You both pull each other towards… towards the middle. So maybe, instead of arguing, you should try and learn from one another. Let each other guide you."

As happened surprisingly often, considering that he looked like he didn't have a thought in his head half the time, Jaune had just said something rather wise. Sunset and Ruby, when these arguments flared up, had a habit of approaching them as all or nothing affairs. One of them was right, one of them was going to win the row – or else they would just drop it for a while and let it continue simmering beneath the surface of their interactions. Ruby… Sunset liked Ruby, but she didn't inspire the same tact and courtesy in her that Pyrrha did, and unlike Pyrrha, Ruby wasn't the sort to shy away from a serious disagreement out of concern for the other party's feelings. As a result, although they didn't row often, their disagreements had a tendency to flare up more often than Sunset's did with Pyrrha.

But perhaps that was because they had been wrong in approaching them that way. Perhaps Jaune had a point. Actually, the more she thought about it, the more convinced Sunset was that Jaune had a very good point. Rainbow had told her that this team needed her, and Sunset had taken that for confirmation that she was at least somewhat in the right… even though she also knew that she was in the wrong in the specific wrong thing that she had done.

Ruby… Ruby had the heart of a true huntress… but the evidence suggested that true huntresses had a somewhat short life expectancy. Yang's great hope for Ruby was that she would reach twenty years old and graduate before she died, at which point, presumably, all bets would be off. And yet, at the same time, as much as Ruby's seeming desire to lay down her life for the greater good might cause angst and annoyance in those who would rather she lived on, yet it had to be conceded that there was something magnificent about her devotion to her ideals. She was a storybook hero made flesh: unfailingly righteous, implacable in the face of evil; her strength was as the strength of ten because her heart was pure, always looking for a battle to fight, a monster to slay. Someone who thought nothing of their own safety because their only heart's desire was to save someone.

Someone who could love and laugh, but not be weakened by that love, not be moved by it, not put that love above the greater good of those who depended on them.

It was admirable, if not always warmly so; sometimes, it was best admired as a painting in an art gallery: academically, and with a degree of detachment. But still, there was much to admire and something to learn from.

Sunset was of a quite different sort, by far, but she fancied that perhaps Ruby could stand to learn something from her too about valuing yourself, about knowing your own worth, about knowing what you could do if you lived.

Sunset didn't know that Professor Ozpin had arranged this on purpose, but she could conceive that fate had done so without the headmaster's knowledge or consent. She had told Yang that she, Sunset, was not Raven, and perhaps if Raven hadn't bailed on Summer Rose, then Summer would still be alive, either because she had an ally by her side in battle or because Raven had taught her to be less careless of her own safety.

Perhaps, if they had been willing to learn from one another, then much sadness in the family could have been avoided.

Or Ruby wouldn't exist, but let's not get bogged down in the details.

She had done wrong, and she could acknowledge that to herself – she wouldn't dare acknowledge it to Ruby. She could do with someone to learn better from, someone to set a better example she could follow.

But she still believed that Ruby could use the same.

"I'm not sure about Professor Ozpin's intent," she murmured, "but you make a lot of sense regardless."

She walked around Ruby's bed. Pyrrha made way for her, getting off said bed so that when Sunset sat down in the chair by her bedside, Pyrrha was not standing between them.

Sunset reached out for Ruby's hand with one of her own. "I know that I am not a perfect huntress," she said. "I know that I don't have the heart of a huntress. I don't even know that I am a huntress in spirit. But Professor Ozpin said that I could become a hero, and I'm willing to learn how from you, Ruby; if you're willing to learn from me how to be…" Sunset searched for a word with which to describe herself. "Someone who comes home. Ruby, when I spoke to Yang, I promised her that I would bring you home, as I mean to bring us all home, just as I promised that I would stay by your side, and not run like Raven did. You may call me selfish, but Jaune's right: if you can teach me how to be a hero, and I can teach you how to be selfish, then I think we'll both become better friends for those who care about us. So will you teach me, and let yourself be taught? Please?"

Ruby did not look particularly enthused by the idea, and when she looked away, Sunset felt her stomach begin to chill with fear that she would reject the notion out of hand, like the hand of hers that was tightening its grip upon the sheet as though she were about to say something uncomfortable.

"Okay," she whispered.

"Huh?" Sunset gasped, so prepared had she been for rejection. "You mean-?"

"I never meant to worry you," Ruby said. "I never meant to make Yang feel the way she did. I don't… you guys don't really get it, but that's on me as much as you because I can't explain it. And if you're willing to change for my sake, then… how can I do less?" She looked at Sunset now, a sad smile upon her face, the rose touched by frost.

Sunset was victorious, and yet, she took no joy in it. This was not a victory won by argument or good sense, but by… it almost felt like emotional blackmail, for all that she, Sunset, was committing to as much as Ruby was.

Nevertheless, the look on Ruby's face was almost enough to make her change her mind, save that she knew that Jaune was right.

They needed to find balance: Sunset to make sure that she never again repeated what she had done down in the tunnel, and Ruby so that she survived to see her graduation despite this struggle in which they were engaged.

They both needed it, as painful as it might be for Ruby.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"I'll try my best," Ruby said softly. "For you."

"And so will I," Sunset vowed.

And never, ever let you know my worst.

 

[ScipioSmith]

He Who Wields the Dagger​

Skystar was sitting on the park bench alone when Sunset came across her.

Sunset was, herself, alone, having gone into Vale to… well, just for a bit of a wander really. There was nothing in the city that she wanted, nothing that she had set out to buy or eat or do; she had just wanted to get out of Beacon for a little bit, get away from the temporary memorial to Sky that Lyra and Bon Bon had set up outside the huntsman statue like an ad hoc These Are My Jewels, get away from everything.

And so, she had gone, alone, and let her legs carry her whither they would, and they had brought her first to Winchester Park, close by the skydock, where she found Skystar Aris, sitting on a bench, seeming to stare without really seeing.

She had changed her outfit in concession to approaching fall, donning a parka that covered up whatever she might be wearing underneath, as well as a pair of ocean-blue jeans. Her hands were clasped together between her knees. Her back was bent a little, and her head was bowed.

Sunset stopped. "Skystar?"

Skystar looked up, a small gasp escaping from between her lips. "Sunset," she said. "Sorry, I didn't notice you there. I was-"

"Preoccupied?" Sunset guessed.

Skystar nodded. "I guess you could say that."

Sunset's brow furrowed for a moment. "Do you mind if I sit?" she asked, gesturing to the bench on which Skystar was already sitting.

Skystar looked at the empty space beside her. "No, go ahead. Be my guest," she said.

Sunset sat down beside her, one arm resting upon the wooden back of the bench. "So," she said, "what's up?"

"It doesn't matter," Skystar said quickly. "I'm sure you've got a lot of your own stuff going on without wanting to listen to me go on."

"Try me," Sunset said softly.

Skystar glanced at her. "Why? I mean, why do you care?"

"Well…" Sunset looked away for a moment. "If I was going to give you an honest answer, it would probably involve the word 'guilt.'"

"'Guilt'?" Skystar repeated. "You mean, because of Cardin?"

"In some ways, it feels like a million years ago," Sunset said softly, looking up at the sky and the myriad Atlesian warships that filled said sky with all their might. "But at the same time, it wasn't, and I still owe you for it."

Skystar smiled, if only faintly. "I told you, Sunset; I'm glad that you did what you did. I… I'm only a little upset that you didn't tell me earlier. I'd rather know the truth than keep living a lie."

"Really?" Sunset asked. "Even if the truth is more painful than the lie?"

"The truth gets more painful the longer the lie goes on," Skystar replied, which ignored the fact that some lies were the only things holding relationships together; those relationships would be destroyed by the truth, like Skystar and Cardin's had been, like Sunset's relationship with Ruby would be if she ever found out what Sunset had done down there in the tunnel. The truth might get more painful the longer the lie went on, but only assuming the lie stopped.

Skystar asked, "Were you all laughing at me?"

"What?" Sunset asked. "No!"

"Really? Even though you knew that I was dating a guy who was incredibly racist without any idea at all, and you didn't find it at all funny?"

"No!" Sunset repeated vehemently. "I didn't laugh at you, and I don't know anyone who did; we just… didn't see it as our place to interfere in your relationship."

"Even though you knew that he wasn't what I thought he was?"

"Why should you have believed us over your boyfriend?" Sunset responded. "Although… I should probably admit the main reason that I didn't tell you is that I liked the idea of making Cardin jump with the fact that I could tell you. I'm sorry for that too; it's another reason I owe you."

"No," Skystar insisted. "You don't."

"That's debatable," Sunset murmured. "But if I'm prying, then… you don't have to tell me. I can't force you, and I wouldn't if I could. I just… if you want to talk to someone, then I'm right here."

Skystar smiled at her. "Thank you," she whispered. "That's really nice of you, Sunset, but like I said, I'm sure you have your own stuff going on."

"Everyone has their own stuff going on," Sunset said. "It doesn't mean that we can't help each other out, still less just listen to one another."

"You'll think it's selfish," Skystar warned.

"I have no problem whatsoever with selfishness," Sunset replied. "It's selflessness that gets to me, honestly."

Skystar sighed. "It sounds… this is going to sound really petty with everything going on, but… it's just that, with everything going on, it's as though nobody cares about the Vytal Festival anymore."

"I thought one of the first things that your mother announced was that it would still be continuing, and held in Vale, no matter what the Mistralians said?" Sunset asked. "And General Ironwood was appointed head of security not too long ago."

"I know that it's still happening," Skystar explained. "But… nobody cares. Yes, it's still being held, and Mom talks about how we're going to make a success of it, but… will anybody come? To the coliseum, or to Vale? Is anybody interested any more?" She paused for a moment. "I get why people have other things on their minds, and I understand what they have on their minds… a grimm attack on the city will do that. We had to cancel our production of A Midwinter's Tale."

Sunset thought for a moment. "That… that's the one where the courtier gets chased offstage and eaten by an ursa, isn't it?"

Skystar nodded. "It was decided that it wasn't very appropriate in the circumstances."

"I can see why," Sunset murmured.

"This probably all sounds like such a pity party," Skystar groaned. "People are dead, and here I am, complaining that people aren't in the mood for a festival. And it's not because I'm the Amity Princess, it… you probably think that I only got the job because my Mom is the First Councillor… and you would be right, but the reason I wanted the job, the reason that I begged my Mom to give me the job is that… this means a lot to me. And not in the stage scripted 'I love world peace' way for the cameras, but…" She hesitated.

"Go on," Sunset urged. "I'm right here."

Skystar nodded. "My Dad… he used to really love the Vytal Festival," she explained. "He was so curious; he loved trying new things, going to new places, meeting new people. He'd try anything, meet anyone, and the Vytal Festival had so much stuff for him to try and so many people for him to meet all in one place. My Mom… her work doesn't give her time to take vacations. It's the same for my uncle Sky Beak. And so, every couple of years, Dad and Aunt Ocean Flow would take me and Silverstream for a fall vacation to Atlas or Mistral or even Vacuo. We'd watch the tournament, go around the fairgrounds, explore the city, see everything that they were laying on. It was the thing we looked forward to the most out of… everything."

She paused.

"And then Dad got sick," she said softly. "Mom… Mom was desperate to find a cure, a treatment, anything that might help, but Dad… I think Dad knew… after a certain point…" She wiped at her eyes with one hand. "Dad accepted how it was going to end much sooner than Mom did. And the main thing that he wanted was to make sure that we had some great memories to… to remember him by. And so, he made Mom take a vacation, and we went to Mistral the year that Shining Armor won the Vytal Crown for Atlas. And I don't think I'll forget anything about that fall because… because it was our last fall, but also because we had so much fun there, That… that's what I remember. Not how he looked in the hospital, but how he looked after the final match when we all watched the closing fireworks from our hotel balcony. The way the light shone in his face. I… I hope that I never forget it. And that's why I wanted to be this year's Amity Princess. I wanted to help everyone have as much fun here as I had over the years." She sighed. "So much for that, I guess." She paused. "You… you were there, weren't you?"

Sunset's mouth tightened for a moment. "At the Breach? Yeah, I was there."

"What… what was it like?" Skystar asked.

"I… I'd rather not talk about it," Sunset murmured. "It was what it was, and what it was was a fight. I don't really feel like describing what it's like to fight the grimm."

"That's not what I wanted to know anyway," Skystar murmured. "I… were you scared?"

"Why?"

"Because I was scared," Skystar admitted. "First, my Mom calls and tells me to get Silverstream and Terramar and get them to the Palace, and then the next thing, people are running around saying that the grimm have broken through the defences, and I… I was terrified. I guess I was wondering if that goes away as part of your huntress training."

"No," Sunset said. "No, that part never goes away. They can teach you how to overcome your fear, and some things can take the edge off it, like remembering your training or having the support of capable people around you, but… no, you can't learn how not to be scared." She paused. "But I… I'm a little surprised that you were scared."

"Really?" Skystar asked in disbelief. "The grimm were inside the city! I know that you were fighting there to protect all of us – and thank you, by the way, thank you so much, the city owes you a debt of gratitude-"

"Let's not go nuts," Sunset said quickly, feeling a little sick in the stomach at Skystar's praise of her heroism when it was her fault that the city had been put in danger in the first place. "General Ironwood and his soldiers deserve the praise, not me."

"You all deserve the praise," Skystar insisted. "You all… you're all the reason there is a Vale left. If the grimm had broken through… it really felt as though we could die: me, Mom, Silverstream, Terramar, Aunt Ocean Flow. But we didn't, because of you, and I know that it wasn't just you, but you're the one here in front of me right now so: thank you, Sunset Shimmer."

Sunset had to look away. Her stomach felt as though it was going to empty one way or the other, and when she swallowed, her throat was dry and brackish. If this kept up, she was going to have to make her excuses and get out of here, to find somewhere where someone wasn't trying to praise her for heroism to which she had no right.

"You're welcome," she grunted.

Skystar either didn't notice the discourtesy or was simply too courteous to let on that she had noticed. "Hey, Sunset?"

"Yeah?" Sunset asked softly.

"Cardin… Cardin was there too, wasn't he?" Skystar asked softly.

Sunset nodded. "Yeah, he was there."

Skystar looked down at her hands. "Does it… does it sound really weird if I say that I was worried about him?"

Sunset let out a sharp laugh. "No. No, it doesn't sound weird at all. Not to me, anyway. And not to anyone who has been where we are, I'll bet."

"It feels weird to me," Skystar said. "He lied to me, he betrayed me, I dumped him and for good reason, so why-?"

"Because you still have feelings for him," Sunset said bluntly. "It's as simple as that. The heart… it doesn't care whether we have good reasons for a break up. Well, not all the time, anyway. We still pine, we still get jealous, and yes, we still worry about them."

Skystar didn't reply to that for a while. "So… what should I do?"

"Get back together with him?" Sunset suggested. "I think he would, if you asked."

"No," Skystar said firmly. "No, I couldn't do that, not after what he did."

"Even if he was sorry?"

"'Sorry' doesn't make up for what he thought about my family," Skystar declared. "Just because I feel… doesn't mean that I should."

"Maybe not," Sunset admitted. "But it means you'll be feeling that way for some time to come, I fear. It… moving on can take a while, from my personal experience." She smiled. "Good thing that you'll have something else to occupy your mind."

"Huh?"

Sunset drummed her fingers on the back of the bench. "You know, for all that you've said, it strikes me that a time like this is when people need the Vytal Festival the most."

Skystar looked at her. "You think so?"

"I do," Sunset affirmed. "You told me so yourself: the most memorable fall with your father was… also the last fall. Because the darkest of times are when we need hope the most."

Skystar hesitated. "But… nobody cares anymore."

"Then give them a reason to care," Sunset insisted. "Show them why the Vytal Festival exists in the first place. I mean, the whole point is to celebrate that humanity came out the other side through the Great War alive, right? So why not celebrate the fact that we came through the Breach?"

Skystar frowned. "Are you sure? What about the people who didn't?"

Sunset hesitated for a moment. "I… I don't know what to say about them, but I will say that Vale needs this. Vale has been hurt, but it needs something to give it a reason to smile again. Something… something so that this year isn't just about the Breach, but about how Vale came back from the Breach and showed that it wasn't going to be afraid. Because… keep this to yourself, but the grimm won't stay gone forever. A lot of them died, and that will make things easier for a little bit, but if everyone in this kingdom keeps walking around under a cloud, then they'll be back. If you can chase the clouds away, then you'll be doing as much for Vale as any huntsman or huntress, and maybe more."

Skystar scoffed. "Now you're just trying to make me feel useful."

"I'm being serious," Sunset insisted. "If negative emotions draw the grimm, then it stands to reason that we need good vibes. We need this. And not just the people of Vale either; I think that all of us at Beacon need it too. We… we've fought a fight that we shouldn't have had to at our age, and we deserve a chance to fight in a tournament with rules instead of against monsters. We deserve a chance to stand in that coliseum with a vast crowd cheering our names. We deserve to be the centre of attention for once, before we die like Sky, our names forgotten. Pyrrha deserves to lift the laurel crown above her head and have all of Remnant gaze on her in admiration." Sunset grinned. "She'll hate that, of course, but she deserves it all the same, and it will please her mother no end."

Skystar giggled. "So the fact that she doesn't want it doesn't bother you at all?"

"I'm Pyrrha's team leader and her best friend; I'm allowed to know what's best for her from time to time," Sunset declared. "Which is the point: just because people right now don't think they want the Vytal Festival doesn't mean that they don't need it or deserve it. So get up, go out there, and you give us all a festival to remember. Just like the ones you had with your father."

Skystar looked at her, still and silent, then she gave a firm emphatic nod, "I… I will! Just you watch!"

XxXxX​

First Councillor Novo Aris looked down at the note – handwritten, unusually, although with first rate calligraphy nevertheless – resting on top of her desk.

She had read it twice, but she read it a third time just in case this was all a bad dream.

She would have given a great deal for recent events to have turned out to be all a bad dream, but unfortunately, she hadn't woken up yet.

Novo looked up from the letter and into the face of General Seaspray, commanding officer – for now – of the Valish Defence Force.

The General stood to attention before her desk, wearing his dress uniform of forest green with loops of gold brocade stretching across his chest and brass buttons polished to a shine. His cap was tucked under his arm, and he wore a ceremonial sword upon his right hip.

It was an impressive sight, or it would have been in more congenial circumstances. At present, however, Novo could not help but find it a little ostentatious.

"General," she said, keeping her voice calm and quiet, "would you care to explain this?" She nudged the letter towards him slightly.

General Seaspray did not look at her. Rather, he kept his gaze a few inches over the top of Novo's head. "I believe that the contents speak for themselves, Madam Councillor."

"Humour me," Novo urged.

General Seaspray cleared his throat. "It's my resignation, Madam Councillor, with immediate effect."

"Your resignation," Novo repeated, her voice sharpening.

Still General Seaspray did not look at her. "It has been my honour and privilege-"

"General," Novo interrupted him before he could repeat the platitudes from his letter. "Do you really believe that this is the time for you to depart?"

General Seaspray did not reply for a moment. "While it is not the time that I would have chosen to resign, the fact of the matter is that this is the only time when I can depart from my post, at this point. I must say, Madam Councillor, I'm a little surprised that you disagree. Vale suffered an attack which could have been catastrophic, a catastrophe from which we were only delivered by the support of General Ironwood and his Atlesian troops-"

"I don't hold you responsible for the Breach," Novo assured him. "Nor does anyone else with any sense in Vale, I assure you."

"Nevertheless, it happened on my watch," General Seaspray reminded her. "Vale has been assaulted, violated, and my army – the army that is pledged to the defence of Vale – was missing in action when the call came out. Someone must pay the price for our inability to defend ourselves, and as the commanding officer, the responsibility – and the duty to pay that price – rests with me. The Defence Force needs a new commanding officer to restore both the honour of the army and public confidence in our troops. Only a new man can draw a line underneath this and move forward with a clean slate. Quite frankly, Madam Councillor, if I did not resign, then my failure to do so would, itself, be a resigning matter."

"This is not your fault," Novo said softly.

"Nevertheless, Madam Councillor," General Seaspray said. He ventured to smile. "I was not aware that in politics one suffered blame and consequence only for one's own faults."

Novo was not amused, not least because the words struck rather close to home. Her poll ratings – her personal ratings and those of her party – had not so much fell since the Breach as they had collapsed, the humiliation of the Breach itself being compounded by a daily diet of questions in the press about defence spending, as journalists and her political opponents alike both managed to simultaneously suggest that not enough money had been spent on defence and that the money that had been spent had been wasted.

General Seaspray spoke of drawing a line underneath this incident. That was something that Novo herself would have done very eagerly.

She did not think that the resignation of the commanding officer would bring the matter to a close.

"Suppose the crisis is not over yet," she suggested.

"With the White Fang in Vale destroyed and the grimm decimated, I'm not sure how the crisis could be said to be continuing," General Seaspray said.

"The insurrectionist Cinder Fall remains at large and may strike again," Novo replied. "Do you not think it is your duty to remain in post until everything has been dealt with and Vale's safety guaranteed?"

"With respect, Madam Councillor, that is the reverse of sense; if you truly believe that Vale remains in danger, then it is all the more urgent that the Defence Force be led by someone who can command the confidence of the public."

"And what of my confidence?" Novo asked. "You still enjoy my confidence."

"For which I thank you," General Seaspray said, bowing his head, "but I assure you, ma'am, that there are plenty of capable officers who could succeed me in my post, and they will win your confidence just as easily as I have done. If you request it, I will, of course, give you my recommendation on who my successor should be, but the choice will be yours." He paused. "May I speak freely, Madam Councillor?"

"You may," Novo said.

"Why don't you want me to go, ma'am?"

Novo snorted. "Perhaps it's because you're from Mount Aris like me."

General Seaspray did not react.

"Or perhaps it's because it offends my sense of decency that you are resigning while Professor Ozpin sits smug in his tower, convinced I cannot touch him," Novo declared. "Does it not stick in your craw, General? Do you not think that Professor Ozpin's refusal to resign is, itself, a resigning matter?"

"Professor Ozpin's students did brave work at the Breach," General Seaspray pointed out mildly.

"For which they would be praised and honoured, if Professor Ozpin would let me near them," Novo growled.

A statement from even one of the young huntsmen and huntresses who had fought to save Vale would have been a great fillip to her in this difficult time; it would have secured her standing immediately if one of the heroes of the hour had come out and said that she – and the government – had done nothing wrong. But Professor Ozpin refused to even broach the subject with any of them, still less to let her come up to Beacon herself to speak to them about it.

She had a feeling that General Ironwood might have been more obliging, but an endorsement from Atlas students would have been less than useless to her.

Novo wondered if the time had come to approach young Cardin Winchester, who would surely oblige her… but that would mean ignoring the way in which he had deceived her – and deceived Skystar, what was more – and held onto his ghastly views about her brother-in-law, her niece and nephew.

She was not ready to forgive him for that, or pretend that it was of no matter to her, not for a boost in the polls.

No, she would wait it out. There was still time before the election. The news cycle would move on, public sympathy for the fallen would fade, and people would come to appreciate the Breach as the near miss that it was. In time, this, like all things, would pass.

It was a pity that General Seaspray couldn't see that.

She pushed back her chair and climbed to her feet. "Is there nothing at all that I can say that will convince you to remain in your post?"

"I'm afraid not, Madam Councillor."

Novo took a deep breath, and then forced herself to smile a little as she held out her hand. "Then I wish you good luck, General, in all of your future endeavours."

General Seaspray took her head. "And I wish you the very best of fortune, ma'am, as you continue to lead this kingdom into better days."

The door into the First Councillor's office flew open so hard that it slammed into the wall. Aspen strode in, his footsteps thumping even through the carpet. "General," he acknowledged General Seaspray with a curt nod, before directing all of his attention to Novo. "Leo's giving a press conference."

"He's what?" Novo demanded. "That's not on the grid!"

"That isn't stopping him," Aspen replied. "I went to school with the political editor of the Daily Herald – we were the only scholarship boys in our year – apparently, Leo's telling everyone that he's got a bombshell to drop."

"Try and find another word; we've had enough bombs already," Novo muttered. "Did your friend in the press tell you why Leo's holding a press conference?"

"He doesn't know."

"Would he tell you if he did?" Novo asked.

"That would depend on whether he got a juicier story out of a pre-emptive reaction or letting things play out," Aspen muttered. "We're friends of sorts, but-"

"His job comes first," Novo finished for him.

"As this appears to be a political matter, I should withdraw," General Seaspray said tactfully.

"Yes, thank you, General," Novo murmured. She looked at him. "I do mean that. Thank you for your service."

Aspen blinked. "Are you going somewhere, General?"

"To spend more time with my family, Councillor," General Seaspray replied.

"I see," Aspen said softly. "Best of luck then, General."

"Thank you, Councillor," General Seaspray said, before he turned and left the office, closing the door that Aspen had thrown open so violently.

"Does it not revolt you that a blameless man feels the need to resign from his post while Professor Ozpin appears oblivious to the need to do the decent thing and make way?" Novo asked.

"Professor Ozpin is a lot harder to fire than General Seaspray," Aspen observed.

"But not impossible," Novo said.

"Theoretically, no," Aspen conceded. "But you'd need all three other headmasters to agree to his dismissal, and he has Ironwood on his side."

"Then I'll get rid of both of them, though it costs me every scrap of influence this kingdom has in Atlas," Novo declared. "They knew. Both of them, they knew what was coming, and they sat on it until the last minute. I may be forced to appoint General Ironwood as head of security, but that does not mean I have forgotten or forgiven. His day will come, as surely as that of Professor Ozpin."

"Revenge is rarely healthy in any walk of life, Novo," Aspen said warily, "but it's terrible politics."

Novo snorted. "And here I thought you didn't like the Atlesians."

"I didn't want them here," Aspen conceded. "But I was wrong about that, and while you're right to be pissed off at the way that the two of them handled this… burning the political capital of the kingdom on a grudge is not what I got into politics for, and as for Ozpin… yes, the man deserves to be conveyed to the Bastion by the river, but the public won't want to see their Council devoting all of their energies to persecuting the headmaster of Beacon at a time like this-"

"Don't preach reticence to me," Novo said. "All year, I have suffered his incompetence-"

"But the public mood is for unity," Aspen insisted. "The people want to see their leaders come together in the wake of this catastrophe, rebuild, shore up the defences. And for better or worse, they trust Professor Ozpin; the only credit gained for Vale in this whole miserable saga has been from the bravery of his students."

"If people found out-"

"This is the worst time to pick a fight with the headmaster of Beacon," Aspen told her. "It's the worst time to pick a fight with anyone, but especially with the headmaster of Beacon." He paused. "And besides, I'm more worried about Leo right now."

"Leo, yes," Novo murmured. "Leo and his press conference. Have you tried calling him?"

"I have; he's not answering," Aspen replied.

"I'll try," Novo said, picking up her scroll. She found Leo's number and dialled. There was no response. The scroll rang and rang, but no one answered. She frowned. "Have you tried his Private Secretary?"

"They don't know."

"What do you mean 'they don't know'?!" Novo squawked. "It's their job to know what he's doing!"

"Not if it's party business," Aspen muttered. His scroll beeped. He took the device out of his breast pocket and snapped it open. He scowled. "It's starting now," he said. He pushed a button and put down the scroll on top of Novo's desk.

The light on the right-hand side of the scroll flashed as a hologram appeared above the desk: a hologram of Leo Aquas, standing in front of their front door, with the lens of a camera just visible poking into view.

"What are you doing, Leo?" Novo asked.

"Thank you all for coming," Leo began. He looked pale, but not nervous. His voice did not tremble as he spoke. "I speak to you under the lingering shadow of a terrible tragedy. Vale has been attacked. Vale has been wounded. Vale… has showed itself to be vulnerable. As you know, as everyone is painfully aware, were it not for the presence of the Atlesian forces, Vale would have been overrun by the creatures of grimm. Serious questions have been asked about the state of our Kingdom's defences, and I am afraid that those questions are justified."

"What?" Novo asked as a murmur of surprise arose from the unseen reporters who must surely be gathered outside Leo's door. "Did he… is he agreeing with the opposition?"

"Events have made it undeniably clear that the Council, of which I have been a part, has failed to maintain adequate defences or security measures," Leo went on. "The dust robberies, which the Department of the Interior failed to stop-"

"Little bastard," Aspen growled.

"The White Fang's reign of terror, which, likewise, the police were powerless to prevent," Leo went on. "And finally, this attack, this near-fatal assault on Vale in which our military were found so desperately wanting and our dependence upon our allies was so brutally exposed.

"I have, for some time, argued the case for greater defence spending and greater funding of the police," Leo declared.

"No, you did not, you lying-"

"But my voice was overruled, and bound by the dictates of collective responsibility, I had no choice but to acquiesce in the will of the majority," Leo said, "but in the wake of this tragedy, I find that I must ask myself where my loyalties truly lie: to my Council colleagues or to the Kingdom of Vale itself? Can I, in good conscience, remain a member of a Council that has so badly let down the people that I was elected to serve? Do I believe that it is possible for these concerns to be resolved from within the present administration? Sadly, I fear that the answer to those questions is 'no.' And so, following the dictates of my conscience, I am resigning as Chancellor with immediate effect. In doing so, I do what I believe to be right, for my party and for my kingdom." He looked directly into the camera. "I believe that the time has come for others to consider their own responses to the conflict of loyalties with which I myself have wrestled for perhaps too long. Thank you; I will not be taking any questions at this time."

He turned away. The hologram displayed him walking back inside his house, shutting the door in the faces of all those reporters whose shouted questions went unanswered.

Novo stared ahead of her. Even when Aspen turned off the hologram, she stared ahead of her, barely able to comprehend it.

"'Loyalty'?" Aspen snapped. "He has the nerve to talk about loyalty after pulling a stunt like that? He might as well have-"

"Called for my head on a plate?" Novo asked softly.

Aspen winced. "Nobody will be taken in by his crocodile tears," he insisted. "People will see it for what it is."

I hope you're right, but fear you're wrong. Novo took a deep breath. "You're right, of course," she said, a strained smile appearing on her face. "This is… ambition, nothing more, and everyone will see it. We will continue on, with a new Chancellor and a new commanding general, and we will put this crisis behind us and lead Vale… lead Vale into better days."

Yet, as she said them, General Seaspray's words seemed to Novo Aris like a particularly bitter jest.

 

[ScipioSmith]

The Men in Grey Suits​

"Madame Councillor!"

"Madame Councillor!"

"Are you worried about the vote tonight?"

"Do you think you've done enough to retain your place?"

"What will you do if it goes to a second round of voting?"

Novo Aris stopped, turning to face the press pack that shouted at her from the edge of the car park. She smoothed out her lavender jacket and raised her voice so that they could all hear her. "I do not seek to evade criticism, but I say to my friends in the party – and I do have friends in the party – that I and my administration have served Vale to the best of our abilities, have improved the quality of life for the people of Vale, and cannot be held responsibilities for incidents, however tragic, which no one could have foreseen or prevented. I accept this challenge. I welcome it, indeed. At least I shall see who is with us and who is against us, and I call on my friends to support me in the vote tonight, as I am confident they will. And that is all I have to say on the matter; if you will excuse me." She turned away, ignoring the questions that they shouted at her back as she made her way across the parking lot, her heels clicking on the tarmac.

The King Osric Grammar School was one of Vale's finest institutes of education; in academic outcomes, it was superior to any combat school and with a far broader range of extracurriculars; the campus was not as large as Beacon's – how could it be, located in the city as it was? – but it was large enough to allow the school to possess its own theatre, a tall brick building with very few windows but large doors which were presently thrown open to admit the parents and the guests who were presently making their way in.

Novo's attention was drawn, however, to someone who was not heading into the theatre, but rather standing – loitering, perhaps, might be a more accurate descriptor – outside, with her hands thrust into the pockets of her black leather jacket. She was a girl of average height, an equine faunus with the rare distinction of possessing two animal traits: the ears that sprouted up out of her hair and the tail that fell towards the ground. Her hair, out of which her horse ears sprung, and her curly tail were both alike of a most striking colour, or combination of colours: streaks of red and gold, which even in the evening, with the sun dying and a little light spilling out of the theatre, seemed to burn like fire.

She had her back to Novo, mostly being turned to face the theatre which she made no move to enter, but her hair was very striking, and Novo thought she recognised her nonetheless.

"Pardon me," Novo said. "But it's Sunset Shimmer, isn't it?"

The girl turned, revealing a very striking pair of green eyes which blinked rapidly in surprise. "Yes, my la- ma'am. Yes, ma'am, I… I have that honour." She straightened up, and her hands slipped out of her pockets. She was wearing that leather jacket over an ankle-length turquoise dress, underneath which her boots looked ever so slightly incongruous.

Novo smiled and spoke softly to put the girl at her ease. "The honour is mine. Vale owes you a great debt."

Sunset Shimmer had, after all, made herself quite noticeable in the year that she had been at Beacon: she had helped foil the dust robbery at the docks, helped capture Roman Torchwick, and been one of the students sent by Ozpin to reconnoitre Mountain Glenn — after which she had been present at the defence of the Breach and the saving of Vale.

And she had killed Adam Taurus, the leader of the White Fang in Vale.

She was a hero, and though she was not of Valish birth, she was, nevertheless, a Beacon student — a Beacon student who was not particularly tied to any other kingdom in the way that, for example, the achievements of Pyrrha Nikos rebounded to the glory of Mistral, not Vale. That made Miss Shimmer a rare commodity, one which might prove useful in the days ahead.

Sunset looked down at the ground. "I… I did very little, ma'am. I mean, Madame Councillor."

"Ma'am will be fine, if you prefer," Novo said. "Although, I'm afraid 'my lady' is quite out of the question. This isn't Mistral, you know."

"No," Sunset said, and a trace of a smile appeared on her face. "No, it is not." She paused for a moment. "If I may-?"

"I'm not an Atlesian general either; you don't need permission to speak," Novo told her. "If I didn't want to speak to you, I wouldn't have approached."

Sunset nodded. "Very well, ma'am; I'm surprised to see you here."

"My niece is playing the Last King," Novo explained. "And my nephew is… a spear carrier, as I believe; Terramar doesn't have Silverstream's talent in performance, but he is the best cricketer in his year. We all have our talents, don't we?"

"Indeed we do, ma'am, if we can only find it," Sunset agreed. "But, forgive me, but tonight of all nights… the vote-"

"Is going on right now," Novo accepted. "Which means that it is past the point at which I can influence affairs, don't you think?"

Leo's call for others in the party to consider their positions, and their response to the conflict of loyalties, had not gone unanswered. Since his sensational resignation, he had mustered sufficient aldermen – fifteen percent of the party's total, as required by the rules – to trigger a contest for the leadership of the party. If he won, then she would be out, he would be party leader, and – provided that he could command the confidence of the Chamber of Aldermen – he would be First Councillor. But, as she had just told Sunset, it was too late to do anything about it now.

"So, it's either sit at home with a glass of wine waiting for the results to come in, sit in my office without the wine waiting for the results to come in, or support my niece and nephew and get taken out of myself for a couple of hours."

Sunset was silent for a moment. "Some might have chosen the wine, ma'am."

Novo chuckled. "Perhaps," she conceded. "But between you and me, I am quietly confident about the result."

The predictions from her office were that she would win by a landslide, avoiding the need for a second ballot. There were some who thought those predictions optimistic, but Novo had seen off tougher opponents than Leo and had every faith that the party would remember what they owed to her and rally round.

"I think you might say the same to anyone whom you thought might pass your words onto the press, ma'am."

"Too late for that, I think, Miss Shimmer," Novo said. "May I ask what you're doing here? This isn't somewhere I expected to see a huntress."

"Mmm," Sunset murmured. "I was just thinking that myself, ma'am. I'm here because Skystar invited me, but-"

"Then it would be very rude of you to slip away unnoticed," Novo said. "If that was your intent."

"The thought had crossed my mind," Sunset admitted.

"My niece and nephew are faunus," Novo reminded her. "A fact of which I know you are aware."

Sunset licked her lips. "Skystar told you?"

"That you unmasked that vile brute?" Novo said. "Yes, she told me. Cardin… I thought he was a good man. He fooled me, as he fooled us all-"

"Ma'am, I don't think-"

"Skystar also said that no sooner had you saved her from him than you started making excuses for him," Novo interrupted her. "In my presence, I would rather you didn't."

When Ocean had gotten engaged to Sky Beak, Novo had told her two things: that some would turn against her for it, no matter how respectable a faunus Sky Beak was; and that she, Novo, never would. She had kept that promise, and she did not intend to break it now, not even a little bit.

"Very well, ma'am," Sunset said softly.

"So, if you are worried about what people will say, don't be," Novo said. "Some fools may think things with which you are no doubt more familiar than I, but none will dare give them voice; the company is too polite for that."

"It… it isn't that, ma'am," Sunset said. "It is…" She trailed off for a moment. Her ears drooped down, and her hands drifted towards her pockets, although they did not enter them. "This looks like a very nice school."

"One of the best," Novo said. "If not the best for the relevant age group."

"Expensive, I presume."

"Somewhat expensive," Novo said, in what was something of an understatement.

Sunset nodded absently. "I went to a school like this, once," she said.

"I would have expected an aspiring huntress to attend a combat school," Novo replied.

"I did that too," Sunset said. "But before that… it was a long time ago, and I was quite young, but being here… it brings back memories." She let out a sort of laugh. "I'm sorry, ma'am; my nostalgia is of no interest to you."

"I owe you a public and a private debt, Miss Shimmer," Novo said. "You can babble on for a little while if you wish; you've earned the right."

"Please, ma'am, don't. I…" Sunset sighed, and her tail hung limp behind her, and her ears disappeared down into her hair. Sunset bowed her hair. "I don't deserve to be spoken to that way. I don't deserve your praise. I… I don't deserve it."

Novo did not immediately reply. She stared at Sunset, trying to get a read on Miss Shimmer and her responses. Was it the modesty of a true hero? No, she did not think it was; as a politician, you had to be able to read people, and Novo was not reading 'modest' from Miss Shimmer. Rather… was it guilt, or was it fear? She thought it was one of the two, but it was hard to be sure.

"Was it… how was it?" Novo asked softly. "Down in Mountain Glenn?"

Sunset stiffened. "I… would rather not talk about it, ma'am."

"Of course not," Novo said. Miss Shimmer was not one of Skystar's closest friends, but she was, nevertheless, a friend of hers, and one who had seen things that Novo could barely contemplate. She had no desire to traumatise the poor girl or force her to relive anything traumatising. "May I ask you why you were there?"

Sunset hesitated for a moment. "Professor Ozpin and General Ironwood-"

"Received intelligence of a possible White Fang attack staged out of Mountain Glenn," Novo said. "I'm aware of that; they admitted as much when they finally came clean to me. And so, instead of using General Ironwood's Atlesian soldiers or calling upon Valish huntsmen, they sent you: a first year student. How old are you, Miss Shimmer?"

"I'm eighteen, ma'am."

"Eighteen," Novo repeated. "And your teammates, have they all passed their birthdays too?"

"… Pyrrha is still seventeen," Sunset admitted.

"Seventeen, my god," Novo muttered. "I admire you students of Beacon a great deal," she said. "When I was seventeen, eighteen, I was still figuring out what I wanted to do with my life, and yet, you have already committed yourself to a solemn and dangerous task."

"You're very generous to say so, ma'am," Sunset muttered.

"But you're still children," Novo said. "So what the hell was Ozpin thinking, sending you on a mission like that into a place like Mountain Glenn?"

Sunset looked into Novo's eyes, and Novo could see that there were bags underneath Sunset's; clearly, the girl was struggling to sleep.

"We volunteered," Sunset said.

"You are eighteen years old; Professor Ozpin is supposed to possess the wisdom of a greater experience," Novo said tartly. "So you volunteered; youth excuses a degree of arrogance, especially in a school that sets out to produce an elite. But my question stands, nevertheless: Why did Professor Ozpin allow you to go? He could have refused you, he should have refused you, and found someone older and more capable."

Sunset hesitated for a moment. In a whispered voice, she asked, "What do you want from me, ma'am?"

"I want the truth."

"The truth?" Sunset repeated. "Or Professor Ozpin's head?"

Now, it was Novo's turn to pause for a moment. "The latter would please me," she admitted.

"Then I cannot help you," Sunset said.

"I'm not asking you to," Novo insisted. "All I am asking for is the truth. Why were you sent to Mountain Glenn? Why did Professor Ozpin and General Ironwood keep the warning of an attack a secret from the Council until the last possible moment?"

Sunset closed her eyes. "That… that is not the… I should go." She turned away.

"Wait!" Novo called, before she could take more than a few steps. "Forgive me, Miss Shimmer; this is… hardly the time. Please, come inside. Accept Skystar's invitation. As I have said, it would be rude of you to refuse."

Sunset looked over her shoulder. "I… am not sure I deserve this."

Novo could not restrain a laugh. "It's a school play; I'm not sure that deserving enters into it."

"I am not sure that I deserve your daughter's friendship," Sunset clarified in a soft voice.

"It is Skystar's to give to whom she chooses," Novo said. "Please, Miss Shimmer, I know it's an old story with which you will be familiar, but I would hate to think that I'd driven you away."

Sunset hesitated for a moment. At length, she bowed her head. "To make you feel guilty is the last thing that I desire, ma'am."

She walked back to where Novo waited, and together, the two of them joined the last few stragglers making their way into the theatre.

Skystar was waiting for them in the lobby. "You came!" she said. "Both of you!"

Sunset smiled. "It would have been rude to refuse," she said, with a glance at Novo.

Skystar's smile broadened. "This might seem like a weird thing to invite you to, but I wanted to say thank you for what you said to me the other day; it really helped."

"I'm glad," Sunset said. "And besides, I've never actually seen this."

"Really?" Skystar gasped. "You don't do the Vytal Story in Atlas?"

"No," Sunset admitted. "In Atlas, they're too ashamed of the fact that they lost."

Skystar frowned. "That doesn't sound like the spirit of the Vytal Festival."

Sunset shrugged. "It's all become so commercialised these days, everyone's forgotten what it's really all about."

"Well, you'll know what it's all about once you've seen the story," Skystar declared. "Silverstream's playing the Last King."

"So I've been told," Sunset said. "And Terramar is a spear carrier."

"And a tournament contestant, in the second half," Skystar added. She looked from Sunset to her mother. "Mom, are you sure it's okay for you to be here?"

"It's Leo, darling; I've got nothing whatsoever to worry about."

"A remarkably dismissive attitude to your own chancellor, ma'am, I must say," Sunset murmured.

"The economic policies of this kingdom for the duration of my time as First Councillor have been of my devising," Novo said firmly. "Leo's role has been to vote as I wish him to vote and to do the sums. I'm not afraid of some glorified bean-counter."

"Mom," Skystar said, "you don't have to-"

"Everything has been taken care of," Novo said. "Haven assures me that it is all in hand." She smiled. "Now, we should go in, before the curtain rises without us."

Neither of them offered any further objections, but went in with her to take their seats in the front row of the crowded theatre.

The play was rather good. The quality of these things could be variable, of course, but Silverstream was quite talented, and Terramar managed to stand quietly and not make a fuss; they both deserved the applause of their parents – and Novo and Skystar, obviously. The story was familiar but quite well done. The only sour note was the way that some of the people in the audience started looking at their scrolls and whispering to one another during the second half; Novo had to restrain herself from turning around to shush them.

It was only when the play was over that she emerged to find Aspen waiting for her in the lobby, along with Haven Bay, her private secretary. They both had rather ashen looks upon their faces.

"No- Madame Councillor," Aspen murmured.

Novo felt a chill around her heart. "I take it the final count is in?" she asked, in a voice which she deliberately kept calm.

"Not as good as we would have hoped," Haven murmured.

Not as good as you told me it would be, you mean, Novo thought. "What's the damage?"

"Two hundred and four for you," Aspen said, which was nearly thirty to forty less than she had been predicted to receive. "One hundred and fifty-five to Leo and nine abstentions."

"It's not a bad result," Haven insisted.

"It isn't the result you predicted with such confidence," Novo reminded him.

"No," he admitted, "but it is a clear majority of the party."

"But it doesn't pass the fifteen percent rule," Novo muttered.

"The what rule?" she heard Sunset ask quietly behind her.

"In order to win outright, Mom needed to get fifteen percent of the possible vote more than the other guy," Skystar explained.

"Why?"

"Because in order to lead the party, it is necessary to command the confidence of the party," Novo said in answer, "and a leader who scraped in on fifty one percent of the vote would not be able to do so."

"As you can imagine," Aspen said, "the press are waiting."

"Of course," Novo said. "Then let's not keep them waiting any longer. Excuse me."

Aspen made way for her, falling in behind her – Skystar and Sunset waited behind in the theatre – as Novo made her way across the car park, retracing her steps towards the waiting press pack.

"Madame Councillor-"

"I have only one thing to say," Novo said, raising one hand to silence the questions. "I fight on. I fight to win."

XxXxX​

"Last night, First Councillor Novo Aris vowed to fight on after narrowly failing to avoid a second round of voting in the Liberal Conservative leadership contest," Lisa Lavender announced, her voice emerging out of Sunset's scroll. "However, there are some who doubt that the First Councillor will be able to survive this injury. Our political correspondent, Bear Brandreth, has more."

"That's right, Lisa; I've spoken to several members of the Aquas camp, supporters of the challenger, former Chancellor Leo Aquas, and there is a very buoyant mood in spite of the fact that they technically lost last night's vote; they did a lot better than anyone expected, and there's a real sense of momentum in the air today. That sense of momentum is buoyed up by opinion polling showing that the Liberal Conservative party would be ten points up led by former Chancellor Aquas than it would under the current leadership of Novo Aris."

"Is there any mood in the party that the First Councillor is responsible for the Breach or the response to the Breach?"

"There is definitely a sense that if the public no longer trust the Liberal Conservatives on national security than that is something to be laid at the First Councillor's door. The feeling is that the First Councillor has de-prioritised-"

"I didn't know you followed Valish politics."

Sunset looked up. She was sat outside in the courtyard, not far from the statue of the huntsman and the huntress that lay beyond the main school hall, and now, Cardin had found her there and stood over her, blocking out the sun with his bulk.

Sunset snapped her scroll shut. "I didn't," she said. "But now I do. For now. Do you mind?"

Cardin moved aside, allowing the sun to fall on Sunset once again. He sat down beside her.

"Please, join me," Sunset muttered.

Cardin took no notice. "Why?"

"Why what?"

Cardin rolled his eyes. "Why the sudden interest in politics?"

"What's it to you?"

Cardin shrugged. "It would have been something to me," he pointed out, "before you-"

"Gave you your just desserts?" Sunset suggested.

"Sure," Cardin growled. "Let's go with that. It still is something to me."

"Your grandfather will keep his job either way, won't he?" Sunset asked.

"You know what I mean," Cardin said.

Sunset sighed. "I'm interested because I was there," she said. "Last night, when the first round results were announced, I was there with the First Councillor."

Cardin frowned. "At the school?"

Sunset nodded. "Skystar invited me to see Silverstream's play."

Cardin hesitated for a moment. "How is she?"

Sunset exhaled loudly. Her tail brushed back and forth along the ground. "I think she misses you."

"Really?"

Sunset nodded. "Not enough to forgive you, right now, but… she misses you. She's glad you didn't die at the Breach."

"That's not exactly the same thing, is it?"

"Trust me," Sunset told him, "I know what 'I hate you but I'm still in love with you' looks like."

"Huh," Cardin replied. "That… that's a pity."

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "'A pity'?"

"Yeah, a pity," Cardin said, as though that should have been obvious. "Do you think I want Skystar to turn into… you?"

Sunset made a choked sound. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what it means," Cardin declared. "And I don't want Skystar to end up like that. I don't want… look, I know we're never getting back together, I know that I don't deserve to get back together with her after what I said and the way that I lied to her, so… so I want her to be happy. I want her to move on, meet someone else… all that good stuff."

Sunset's eyes narrowed. "Do you actually believe that, or are you just saying it because you think you should?"

Cardin was silent for a moment. "Both?" he suggested. "I mean, if I thought there was a chance that she'd take me back, I'd get down on the ground and beg like a dog, but since that's not going to happen… she deserves someone who'll treat her right. Someone who really is all the things she thought I was."

"You're a big guy in more ways than one if you really do mean that," Sunset said. "You're a better person than me if you really mean that."

"That's not hard."

"Insolence," Sunset hissed. She scowled. "So… as someone who is plugged into all of this, do you think they're right? Do you think that the tide is against her?"

"I'm afraid it is," Cardin said. "There's no way that it should have been that close."

"It wasn't that close," Sunset pointed out.

"It was too close," Cardin replied. "She ought to have had that contest in the bag. She ought… she ought not to have faced a challenge at all. It's ungrateful, apart from anything else, but I guess there's no sentiment in politics."

"None in democratic politics," Sunset murmured.

A monarchy would never have got itself into this position, where the leader was under threat of being hurled from power because a few self-important little men had frightened themselves into thinking that the mood was turning against said leader. But then, you had to be frightened when you yourself might be toppled at any moment – or at short notice, at the very least – upon the whims of the masses. There were weaknesses built into the system all the way down. How were you supposed to find a leader with the courage and integrity to do what was necessary when everything was a non-stop beauty contest? Yes, everyone was blaming the First Councillor for Vale's lack of preparedness for the Breach, but no one had protested that she was spending money in other areas before, had they? Least of all the people who had been recipients of the kingdom's largesse?

Vale's weakness was the fault of all of Vale, yet now, they offered up Novo Aris as a scapegoat and a sacrifice, prepared to cast her out and, with her, all their sins.

If the news reports were right and momentum was against her.

"Ruby doesn't like her," she observed.

"Why not?" Cardin asked.

"She said that she doesn't care about the outlying settlements."

Cardin snorted. "If that's true, then where were the Valish huntsmen when the Breach happened?"

"That… is a good point," Sunset conceded.

"I mean, of course, the First Councillor paid more attention to the cities than Middle-of-Nowheresville," Cardin went on, "because guess what: the cities are where everyone actually lives, and in case you hadn't noticed, the city is the one place that has actually come under attack this year, so tell me again how the First Councillor is hoarding huntsmen to defend the cities when the whole reason she's in this mess is because someone persuaded her to let the huntsmen go out and defend the villages instead?!"

"I said you had a good point," Sunset said. "This matters to you, doesn't it?"

"Shouldn't it?"

"I didn't say that."

"No, you just sounded surprised."

"No one made you come to Beacon," Sunset said. "Your grandfather's a judge, your father's a civil servant, you could have followed in their footsteps if politics was so important to you."

"I know where my strengths and weaknesses lie," Cardin said, "but that doesn't mean I'm not interested or that I don't have opinions. Councillor Aris – and I'm not just saying this because she put my grandfather on the Council or because I was hoping to be her son-in-law one day; I really believe this – has been the best First Councillor this kingdom could have asked for. She turned the economy around-"

"I've heard her speak," Sunset said, her mind returning to that rally they had witnessed from far off, in the team's very first trip into Vale together. Celestia, those days seemed far off now and so much more innocent.

"Just because she said it doesn't mean it isn't true," Cardin insisted. "She brought back the industries, she made it so that people could start making money again; you know she was going to take on the SDC?"

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "No, I didn't. Sounds bold of her."

"It was," Cardin said. "She was going to slap mountain-high tariffs on dust imports so that Vale could afford to start mining its own dust again, maybe even nationalise the Schnee quarries here. She was taking back Vale for the Valish… no offence. But none of that matters now. One thing that she couldn't expect, one thing that nobody saw coming, and it's all washed away. There's no justice in politics. Another reason I preferred to be a huntsman."

Sunset said nothing. She couldn't think of anything to say that would help matters at all.

Except that she could. There was something she could say.

Councillor Aris had asked for the truth, and although she hadn't meant that truth, the fact remained that she had asked for the truth, and the truth… well, the truth might not set her free, but it would save her career, which probably amounted to the same thing, as far as a politician was concerned.

The truth would set her free and send Sunset to prison and damn her in the eyes of Ruby – if not Pyrrha and Jaune and everyone else.

We are those who trusted huntsmen to keep their vows.

She could not help the dead. They were dead, as harsh as it might seem to put it thus, and wholly beyond saving. Beyond saving and only intermittently near her conscience to speak true. Their ghosts were her burden to bear, but she would not sacrifice for them, any more than she had sacrificed for them living. But the First Councillor was alive, and Sunset could help her.

She had already cost Skystar her boyfriend and her happiness; she could not, in all good conscience, stand by and cost Skystar her mother's career as well.

Councillor Aris wanted the truth? Then she could have it and save herself.

Sunset leapt to her feet.

Cardin looked at her. "Where are you going?"

"Never you mind," Sunset said, and she ignored anything else that he might have had to say as she set off at once for the garage. Let him think her rude; he'd think much worse than that soon enough once the truth was out.

She walked to the garage to get her bike; her boots beat a rapid tattoo upon the flagstones as she walked. She didn't stop; she didn't say goodbye to Ruby or Pyrrha or Jaune. She just walked, straight there, no hesitation. Any hesitation would be fatal. Any attempt to say goodbye would murder her resolve.

This was the right thing. This was what Skystar deserved, who had always shown Sunset such innocent kindness. Kindness which Sunset had returned with misery and the ruin of her happy life.

Now she would make that right.

Now she would make it all right.

XxXxX​

"I'm afraid you can't possibly go on. That was clear the moment you didn't come through the first ballot. You must step down and let Aspen or Keller run the show. If not, we'll end up with Leo and that would be a disaster… Don't get me wrong, I support you. I'd support you until the next election, I'd support you for the next five or ten years, but no one thinks you have a chance of winning. No one wants you humiliated, Novo, you don't deserve that. Step down, on your own terms. Don't wait for the push, eh?"

"I'm afraid I don't think you'd win, Madame Councillor, and your standing may do untold harm.

"I'm afraid you must step down now and let Aspen and Keller run."

"And of course, one wouldn't want you to be humiliated in any way, Madame Councillor."

They had all agreed beforehand. They had all gotten together like little schoolboys behind Matron's back and agreed the line they were going to take. Then, one by one, the men in grey suits had trooped into her office and told her that she couldn't possibly win, that she needed to step down for the sake of the party and make way for Aspen or Keller. That nobody wanted to see her humiliated in any way.

As if it wasn't a humiliation to be confronted one by one by these little men, these insects, these aldermen who would be nothing without her and told that she must step down for the sake of the party!

By the time that the fifth one of them had come through the door, she'd been able to predict perfectly what he was going to say; by the time the tenth one of them had come through the door, she had wanted to scream.

She felt so angry. She felt so… so powerless.

She felt so tired.

By the time she staggered home, unable to bear any more, her arms had been trembling with weakness, her legs wobbling. She had collapsed into an armchair in the sitting room of her official residence.

"Mom?" Skystar asked anxiously as she knelt down in front of her with what looked like a large whiskey held in one hand. "Here, take this." She held out the glass, but Novo did not take it.

At the moment, she felt as though it would have slipped from her trembling hand.

Skystar frowned as she put it on the coffee table beside Novo's chair.

"Mom," she murmured, reaching out to touch Novo's hand. "Is it… is it over?"

Novo did not respond. She did not want it to be over. She didn't want it to end like this, defeated not in an election but by whispers and faint hearts within her own party, brought low by treachery. It was unconscionable. It was unfair.

It was unavoidable.

Aspen slipped into the room through the door opposite Novo's seat, which she had left open as she staggered in. He had no tie, and his collar was open, his suit rumpled as if he had been wearing it for too long.

"I…" he began. "It's important for me to tell you that I didn't put them up to that." He swallowed. "I would never do that to you."

Novo smiled faintly. "From anyone else, that would seem very disingenuous."

"'From anyone else'?" Aspen asked.

Novo nodded. She squeezed Skystar's hand before she said, "Nevertheless, if you've come to measure the curtains, I wouldn't blame you."

"That's not why I'm here," Aspen said.

"Perhaps it should be," Novo said. "I'd rather you than Leo."

"Novo-" Aspen began.

"You need to think about who's going to nominate you," Novo said. "I'd do it myself, but I'm afraid that would do you more harm than good. You need a heavyweight, someone with gravitas; I'd recommend Keller, but he's likely to stand himself, judging by how many people mentioned him. You need to find someone popular to lend credence to your campaign."

"I don't need nomination papers, and I don't need a campaign," Aspen insisted. "Novo, you can still win this, all guns blazing-"

"We don't have any guns, Aspen; that's why they want me gone."

"Novo!" Aspen snapped.

Novo fixed him with her gaze. "The First Councillor of Vale must be a realist."

"It's not as bad as it looks," Aspen said.

"That's a relief; it looks terrible," Novo replied dryly.

"I know that we're having some difficulty rallying the troops," Aspen conceded. "But if you come out fighting, then the waverers will fall back into line."

"Not now," Novo murmured. "Not after today. The Emperor is without his army, Aspen; the battle has been fought and lost."

Aspen was silent for a moment. "I don't want to take your place," he said. "Not like this."

"It's not my first choice for how to leave either," Novo said, "but better you than Leo."

"Mom, are you sure?" Skystar asked. "Is… is this really it?"

Novo blinked rapidly. She found that there were tears in her eyes. "I… I think it is. I… I wish that it had come under different circumstances, but… but one very rarely gets the chance to decide these things in this line." She paused for a moment. "I hope that history will be kinder to me than the present."

Aspen scowled but said nothing.

There was a buzz from the communicator mounted to the wall beside the door, meaning that the police officer on guard outside was trying to reach her.

Novo tried to rise but found that she was still a little too weak for it. "Aspen, would you mind answering that for me?"

"Of course," Aspen said softly, and he pushed the red button on the metallic wall panel. "What is it?"

The voice of Officer Clark issued into the room. "Pardon me, Councillor; there's a girl out here who wants to speak with the First Councillor. Says her name is Sunset Shimmer."

"Madame Councillor!" Sunset called. "I need to speak with you."

"Sunset?" Skystar asked.

"Miss Shimmer?" Novo said.

"The First Councillor is rather busy at the moment," Aspen said. "She has no time to-"

"I'm aware of what's going on, that's why I'm here," Sunset insisted. "Please, ma'am, it will be worth your while, I promise."

"What is this about?" Novo asked, trying to raise her voice.

Sunset hesitated for a moment. "I… I'd rather speak to you privately, ma'am, and not like this with me out in the street."

Novo glanced at Skystar, who shook her head in puzzlement.

Novo took a deep breath. "Very well. Let her in, Clark."

"Of course, ma'am."

There was another buzz, indicating that the connection was broken.

"Is this necessary?" Aspen asked.

"It's not as though I have anything better to do," Novo reminded him.

Aspen scowled but said nothing. Nothing about that, anyway. He half turned away, before he said, "Sunset Shimmer… she was-"

"A Beacon student, one of those at the Breach," Novo said. "One of those Professor Ozpin sent into Mountain Glenn."

Aspen shook his head. "What was that fool thinking?"

"Perhaps Miss Shimmer has come to tell us?" Novo suggested.

Sunset Shimmer arrived soon. She was heard before she was seen, her footsteps heavy on the stairs, her steps slow and rather plodding. She shuffled into the sitting room, wearing out the carpet a little with her boots, her hands thrust into the pockets of her jacket just as they had been last night. Her ears were drooped, almost invisible amongst her hair, and her tail hung limp between her legs.

Her face was pale and a little drawn. Her eyes were cast down to the ground.

If she had not been so young, Novo would have had Skystar offer her a drink.

"Miss Shimmer," Novo said, "what a pleasant surprise. This is Aspen Emerald, Councillor for the Interior."

"I think I've seen you on television, sir," Sunset said softly.

Aspen gave a sort of sniff in reply.

Novo took a deep breath. "Would you like something to eat, Miss Shimmer? There's plenty in the freezer. A cup of tea perhaps?"

"No, thank you, ma'am."

"You must sit down, at least, you look…" You look how I feel. "You look very weary."

"No, thank you, ma'am, I'd prefer to stand," Sunset said, still as softly as before. "I should stand." She paused.

"Well?" Aspen demanded.

"Aspen," Novo chided him gently.

Sunset blinked twice. "I am… sorry, about your difficulties, ma'am. I hear… I'm told by some that you are a very good First Councillor, and Skystar is proof that you are a good mother."

"That's very kind of you to say," Novo said, "and your sympathies are welcome-"

"I didn't come here to offer you empty sympathies," Sunset interrupted. "I'm sorry because…" She closed her eyes. "Because it's my fault. I'm the one who detonated the mine and opened the way into Vale for the grimm."

Silence fell in the room as completely as if a second mine had gone off and they were all amongst casualties. Novo, Aspen, and Skystar were all frozen, all staring at Sunset, none of them speaking or reacting.

Novo scarcely knew how to react. In all her years in politics, this was… she had never experienced anything quite like this before.

But then, that in itself had become depressingly common this year.

"I think," she said, finding her voice at last, "that you had better explain."

Sunset nodded. "The White Fang had mined the end of the subway tunnel, using the dust that they had stolen over the past year," she said. "The detonator was left on the train that they were planning to use to transport their men and stolen war machines to attack Vale. The detonator… it had been left for me. I… know the person who left me the detonator, and she knows me; she… she wanted to… she gave me a choice. I had a choice. We'd gotten on the train before we knew about the grimm, and everyone… the emergency exits from the tunnel had been sealed up, we'd passed the last station in Mountain Glenn, there was no way out, I… I had a choice. My teammates, my friends were on the train with me, and I had a choice: condemn my friends or risk Vale. I chose my friends." She paused. "I didn't mean to cause you these issues, ma'am. Skystar, I didn't-"

"'Didn't mean'?!" Aspen cut her off sharply. "You didn't mean to cause these difficulties; what the hell did you mean, then?! Did you just mean to kill us all and leave this city in ruins?!"

"No!"

"You didn't mind risking the possibility, though, did you?"

"Aspen," Novo said. "That's enough."

"'Enough'?" Aspen repeated. "Novo, she-"

"That's enough," Novo insisted. She stared at the girl in front of her. She felt… it was hard to tell exactly what she felt, except that she did not feel angry. Perhaps she ought to have felt angry, on behalf of herself, on behalf of Skystar, on behalf of Vale, but… she did not. "Miss Shimmer, why are you telling me this?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Sunset asked. "This, the Breach, all of it, it's not your fault! You can have me arrested, I'll confess, and this leadership battle and all the rest can go away! You can still be First Councillor-"

"That is very generous of you, Miss Shimmer, but I'm afraid you're a little late to come riding to my rescue," Novo told her. She pushed herself up to her feet, gaining strength from necessity. "And in any case, whether you or the White Fang are guilty of setting off the mine doesn't really change the salient criticism of my leadership: that the Valish forces were unable to respond to the threat that we faced, and we were reliant upon the Atlesians under General Ironwood to protect us. Whoever caused the explosion, those facts do not change."

Sunset looked rather deflated. Her body sagged forwards, her shoulders slumped; she looked almost as if she might faint right there on the sitting room floor. "I… I'm… I didn't mean for… I knew the Atlesians were there, I thought they'd save… I hoped they'd save everyone."

"Did you care if they didn't?" Aspen demanded.

Sunset glanced at him. "Not enough," she conceded quietly. She glanced away, looking back down at the floor. "I wish… are you sure that there isn't something I can do to help you, ma'am?"

"You can face justice," Aspen said sharply.

Sunset's chest rose and fell. She screwed her eyes tight shut. "Of course. I can still do that."

"You could," Novo said, "but I don't see the necessity of that."

"Novo?" Aspen gasped. "I… can I speak to you in…?" He stopped, clearly torn between asking to speak to Novo in private and leaving Sunset alone with Skystar.

"Yes," Novo murmured. "You may."

It was hard to imagine someone as wretched as Sunset Shimmer looked at the moment doing anything to hurt Skystar; perhaps Novo ought to have felt more nervous leaving her daughter alone with someone who had just admitted to committing treason, but for whatever reason, she did not. She was not afraid of Sunset, any more than she was angry with her.

She pitied her. She pitied the girl who had had the weight of the world placed on her shoulders and been broken beneath the weight. It was… it was a great pity that she had been put in that situation, and the consequences that had flown from it were even more to be regretted, but that did not negate the pity.

"Skystar," she said, "you'll be alright to stay here?"

"I…" Skystar gripped the back of the chair which Novo had been sitting in. "Yeah, sure. Go ahead, Mom."

Novo nodded to her. "Aspen," she said, and led the way towards the study.

She was starting to feel… not stronger necessarily, but more in command of herself. Sunset's words had given her something beyond self-pity and recrimination to focus on, even if that something else was just externalised pity for another.

It was still enough to get her on her feet and into the small study adjoining the sitting room.

Aspen followed her, slamming the door shut behind him. "What in God's name are you doing? This is-"

"Meaningless," Novo said. "Miss Shimmer could give her confession, and it wouldn't save me, not after half the party has lined up to stab me in the front. I couldn't forgive that, and they wouldn't expect me to. We have… I have passed the point of no return. And what I told that girl out there was true: her responsibility doesn't negate my own, real or perceived."

"So that's it?" Aspen asked. "You're just going to give in?"

"I'm going to spare myself the humiliation," Novo said, with a touch of bitterness creeping into her voice. "I'm going to give you a fighting chance. You need to win, Aspen. You… Vale will be lucky to have you as First Councillor."

"Vale was lucky to have you as First Councillor," he replied.

"Yes," Novo said softly. "Yes, it was. But every sun must set, and a new dawn must rise again."

Aspen turned away from her for a moment, resting his hands upon the door. "None of which," he said, turning to face her again, "none of which means that she should be allowed to get away with what she did. She deliberately-"

"'Must I hang the farmboy who deserts his post when I cannot touch one hair on the head of the reeve or alderman who encourages him to desert?'" Novo asked. "The Last King asked that, in the bleakest winter of the Great War, when his army was snowed in at Valley Forge."

"I don't need a history lesson," Aspen said irritably. "My ancestors were snowed in the same as yours, and they didn't think of deserting because they understood what was at stake; they understood that freedom, for Vale and for all the slaves they'd left behind in Mantle, rested on the outcome of the war, and so they stuck to their duty."

"She's a child, Aspen," Novo replied. "A first-year student, sent into Mountain Glenn for God's sake. Sent into Mountain Glenn and a situation where she was asked to lay down her life-"

"That's what she signed up for," Aspen spat.

"Spoken with all the maturity of a grown man," Novo replied.

Aspen frowned. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I don't blame her for this, any more than the Last King blamed the farmboy."

"Ozpin," Aspen muttered.

"He sent her there," Novo said. "So young and so unprepared."

"That doesn't change the fact that she pulled the trigger."

"And what good will it do to lock her up for that?" Novo asked. "Send her to jail for life, put her to death, to what end?"

"Justice?" Aspen suggested. "Obedience to the law? Why shouldn't she face punishment for what she did?"

"She didn't have to come here," Novo pointed out. "She didn't have to tell me the truth. If she had not, I would never have known."

"And what of it? It doesn't wash away her crimes."

"You were the one who told me revenge was terrible politics when you preached reticence at me not too long ago," Novo reminded him.

"I didn't want you to pursue grudges at political cost-"

"You want a political cost?" Novo asked. "The only credit for Vale gained in this miserable affair was the involvement of the Beacon students-"

"She's from Solitas!"

"But trained here in Vale, along with her teammates," Novo said. "Trained at Beacon, because whatever the faults of our military, we have the finest school producing the finest huntsmen in all of Remnant, and that, at least, is something that Vale can take pride in." She sighed. "Perhaps you were right that, for that reason, it would have been a fool's errand to go after Professor Ozpin as I wished, but if it comes out that one of those Beacon students of which Vale is so proud, a hero of this year's catastrophes, actually put the city at risk… what will that do? What kind of negativity will that cause? It will… it may do untold harm."

Aspen held his peace for a little while. "And so… what? She gets away with it? She gets to skate by, to continue training as a huntress when she has already proven herself unworthy of the same?"

"If you are so set on punishing her, then you will be able to do so, once you become First Councillor," Novo said. "I won't be able to stop you. But I will not, and I strongly recommend that you consider the potential consequences before you do."

XxXxX​

Sunset didn't look at Skystar. She was too ashamed to look and too afraid to look for what she might see in Skystar's face if she did look.

And so she looked away, down at the beige carpet beneath her feet.

"Sunset?" Skystar asked.

Sunset didn't respond, and she certainly did not look.

"Sunset," Skystar repeated. "Come on, I'm right here."

Sunset glanced her way. Skystar's expression was a little hard to read, which was itself surprising; she would have expected more obvious disgust.

"This… this seems to be a bit of a habit with you," Skystar noted.

"Hmm?"

"You do things," Skystar said. "And then you regret it afterwards when you see the consequences, and then you confess to doing it."

Sunset licked her lips. "I… I guess that's true."

"You could always think about the potential consequences beforehand," Skystar suggested.

"You think I didn't think about the consequences?" Sunset demanded, and now, she looked Skystar full in the face, her head snapping up. "The consequences were all that were in my mind."

"You just… didn't care?" Skystar murmured.

"If I didn't care, I would have let my friends die out of cold logic," Sunset muttered. "I cared… I cared about them. I thought that General Ironwood's forces would save the day."

That was a lie; she had not been certain that they would do so down in the tunnel; she had certainly considered the possibility that they would not. But there were limits to her honesty; she would tell the truth to save Skystar's mother's career, but if Skystar was not inclined to judge her already, then Sunset wasn't going to give her even more reasons to do so.

"I… I guess they did," Skystar conceded. "For most of us."

"Yes," Sunset whispered. "For most of you."

"But six people died," Skystar said. "Because of you."

"Yes," Sunset acknowledged. "Because of me."

"And you only came forward to save Mom's career?"

"I thought," Sunset murmured, "that I had caused you enough trouble already."

"Then how are you going to make it right?"

"By saving other lives," Councillor Aris said, as she came back in from the other room, with Councillor Emerald following behind her. "Isn't that right, Miss Shimmer?"

Sunset's brow furrowed. "I hope so, ma'am."

"Don't blame her, Skystar," Councillor Aris instructed. "She was too inexperienced for the position she was placed in. But Skystar is right; you will have to repay the debt you owe to Vale, and to Remnant." She paused for a moment. "You are too late to save my career, but I hope that Councillor Emerald will be chosen as my successor by the party. If so, it is to him that you will repay the debt you owe, and other than to him, you will not speak of this. Neither of you will speak of this."

"Mom?" Skystar asked.

"For the sake of morale," Councillor Aris explained. "The valour of the Beacon students is all that the people of Vale may take pride in at this present moment; it is unfortunately true – and it may even be said to be truly my fault – that the police and the defence forces have let his kingdom down, but Beacon Academy and its students have, in the public eye, stood strong. That is why I have not exposed the fact that Professor Ozpin sat upon critical information until the last possible moment, and that is why I will not expose you. This last shred of public confidence must be maintained; it is encouragement that the people need now, not the despair that would come if they knew that one of the students of Beacon who fought to defend them had put them in danger."

"I… I see," Sunset murmured. She… she wasn't… she felt tears coming to her eyes. Tears of relief, as inappropriate as it might be in this company. Yes, there would be a price to pay later, but not a price that would take her away from her friends, from her team, not a price that would… she was saved.

She had not saved Councillor Aris, but she had been saved herself, and that… yes, there would be a price for it, but in the meantime… she was free.

No. Not free. She would never be free of it.

Not free, but safe.

"I don't know what to say," she said.

"Then say nothing," Councillor Emerald said harshly, "and walk out of here while you still can."