SAPR: Interlude 2 - Vale

[ScipioSmith]

News From Equestria​

"Sir, Lulamoon and Glimmer are outside."

General Ironwood closed the folder on the paperwork he'd been reading. "Thank you, Yeoman; send them in."

The door into Ironwood's office aboard the Valiant slid open with a hydraulic hiss as Trixie Lulamoon and Starlight Glimmer walked in. Both wore their Atlesian whites, rather than their more colourful — at least in Lulamoon's case — field gear. Trixie looked uncertain; Glimmer looked stoic. They both stopped a couple of feet from his desk and came to attention, saluting him.

"Cadet Leader Lulamoon and Cadet Glimmer reporting, sir," Trixie declared.

Ironwood got up, returning their salute. "At ease," he said softly.

As they obeyed him, spreading their legs while clasping their hands behind their backs, Ironwood observed the pair of them. Lulamoon was one of his most flamboyant students and one who divided opinions amongst the faculty: some were charmed by her mannerisms; others thought her a pretentious peacock. For himself, Ironwood had to admit that, on a personal level, she was not exactly what he looked for in a student or a soldier, but at the same time, he wouldn't try to deny that she was innovative, quick-thinking, and brave. He didn't regret making her a team leader — if her particular brand of charisma wasn't for everyone, then she nevertheless had a force of personality that made her able to move people — since under her leadership, Team TTSS was one of the best-performing teams in their year. There was a reason he had trusted them to be part of Belladonna's exposure to Atlas and its students; he hadn't chosen to throw them together at random.

It had turned out, thank the gods, to be unnecessary, but Ironwood sometimes wondered if Lulamoon would have been a better choice to assume the mantle of the Winter Maiden than Starlight Glimmer; not his first choice — that would have been Dash — but a better choice than they had lighted on in the end. Someone who wasn't cowed by responsibility, someone who revelled in the idea of their own specialness, someone who could think outside the box.

Of course, those weren't the qualities that Ozpin looked for in a Maiden, and ultimately, it was Ozpin's choice, even when it came to the Winter Maiden.

That brought Ironwood's attention, and his consideration, to Starlight Glimmer. On paper, she was the more impressive of the two: prodigiously talented, a crack shot and an expert in close combat, excellent grades in all her classes. Strong, intelligent … and totally unready for the responsibility that they had sought to thrust upon her. In fairness, Ironwood had missed it too — he had submitted Starlight's name for Ozpin's consideration — and so had all of her professors. None of them had predicted that she would have a mental breakdown in response to their offer of the Maiden's power.

And yet, he felt as though he should have known; he should have understood her better, should have been able to say what kind of person she was, judge whether she was truly ready or not.

Should have seen through the façade of good grades and expert performance to what was there — or not there — underneath.

They hadn't spoken much since. Starlight's confidence in him had been shaken — he could hardly blame her for that — and she wanted as little to do with him as possible; Ironwood could understand that, and he wasn't minded to impose himself upon her against her will. He trusted that she wouldn't go spreading what she knew to all and sundry, and that was enough; if she wanted to be nothing more than a learner, with no relationship with him beyond headmaster and student, who was he to argue with that?

Especially since she was a very good student, even moreso this second time around under Lulamoon's leadership. No one had any complaints about her conduct or performance, so he had been willing to let things lie.

Until now.

Ironwood sat down. "Three nights ago, the two of you went AWOL in the company of a Beacon student, Sunset Shimmer," he said.

"Permission to speak, sir," Trixie said.

"Granted, Lulamoon."

"We were supporting Sunset Shimmer on a mission, sir," Trixie pointed out. "I'm not sure that really counts as AWOL."

"Did you have orders to undertake this mission?" Ironwood asked.

Trixie licked her lips. "No, sir."

"Then you were absent without leave," Ironwood declared. He didn't tell them who had informed him that they were absent — it had been Tempest Shadow, their teammate — for obvious reasons; he didn't think these two were likely to retaliate, but there was a strict policy of anonymity in these cases. "What do you have to say for yourselves?"

"We did save a village, sir," Trixie said, a little reproachfully.

Ironwood clasped his hands together. "Is that right?"

"Yes, sir," Trixie said.

"It is, sir," Starlight added.

Ironwood paused for a moment. "Why did you not ask permission before you left? Or report your whereabouts at any time?"

"Communications were being jammed around the village in question, sir," Starlight said. She did not look at him, her face was pointed straight ahead and her gaze directed out of the window and across Vale spread out before her.

"And before that?" Ironwood demanded. "Before you left on this 'mission'?"

"We … did what we thought was right, sir," Trixie said.

"And what made you think this was the correct course of action?" Ironwood asked.

"Because … because if we had not gone with her, Sunset Shimmer would have gone on the mission alone, sir," Trixie said. "And that wouldn't have been good for Sunset, or for the village of Arcadia Lake."

"Our intervention was crucial, sir," Starlight added.

"Hmm," Ironwood said. "I expect the details will be in your report which you will submit to me posthaste, isn't that right, Lulamoon?"

"Yes, sir!" Trixie yelped.

Ironwood was silent for a little while. "Why was Miss Shimmer going on a mission alone?"

Ozpin hadn't given him an answer on that, and while it wasn't unheard of for Oz to keep secrets from him, that didn't stop it from being irritating when he did, especially when it was a matter like this. Ironwood didn't understand it — didn't understand why Ozpin had sent Miss Shimmer out by herself and didn't understand why he couldn't share the good reason that he had for doing it.

Starlight and Trixie glanced at one another.

"You might have to ask her that, sir," Starlight answered.

"I'm asking the two of you," Ironwood informed them.

"Appreciate that, sir, but we couldn't say why Sunset was assigned this mission," Starlight said.

"I see," Ironwood muttered. He leaned forwards, resting his elbows upon his desk.

"I appreciate that you acted with good intentions," he said, "and I accept that you did some good with your actions. However, that does not change the fact that you had no orders to absent yourselves, you had not requested or been given leave, and you did not inform your superiors as to your whereabouts. Discipline is not an optional extra, obedience to orders and authority are not optional extras; they are the foundation of our strength. To remind you of that, having just spent three nights AWOL, you will spend the next three nights on sentry duty around the grounds of this school." He leaned back in his chair. "What do you say to that?"

"Thank you, sir," Trixie said.

Ironwood nodded. "Dismissed."

Trixie came to attention, but Starlight said, "Permission to remain, sir, and speak to you privately."

Ironwood looked at her, surprised by her request. He considered it for a moment. "Granted. Lulamoon."

"Sir!" Trixie said, with only a glance at Starlight as she turned on her heel and marched towards the door. It opened before her with a hiss, and then it hissed again as it closed after her.

Starlight remained stood at ease, only now, she was looking at Ironwood.

Looking but not saying anything.

Ironwood let the silence linger for a moment. After what he had done, she was entitled to take this at her own pace.

Starlight looked at him, breathing in and out but saying nothing, swaying ever so slightly as she stood at ease. "Sir," she began, after a little delay, "about the work that Rainbow Dash and the others are doing for you—"

"What do you mean, Glimmer?"

"Sir, if I may, I'm not an idiot," Starlight replied. "I know that you sent Team Rosepetal into Mountain Glenn as part of classified activities. What I want to know — what I would like to know, sir — is does this have anything to do with the Winter Maiden?"

Ironwood was silent for a moment. "Why do you ask?"

"I suppose I'm hoping that you're not involved in multiple secret conspiracies, sir," Starlight said.

The corners of Ironwood's lips twitched momentarily. "Have you spoken to Dash or the others about this?"

Starlight hesitated, but said, "I asked Twilight if the term 'Winter Maiden' meant anything to her. She denied it, and I think she was telling the truth."

"And yet you're also asking me," Ironwood pointed out.

"Information can be compartmentalised, sir," Starlight said.

"Yes," Ironwood agreed. "Yes, it can." He paused. "There are … connections, which you don't need to know, just as Dash, Twilight, and the others have no need to know about the Winter Maiden, at least not at this time.

"I see," Starlight murmured. "Thank you for being honest with me, sir."

"Was there anything else, Glimmer?"

"Sir," Starlight said. "Rainbow, Twilight, even Blake … these kids trust you; you know that, right?"

Ironwood held her gaze. "There is nothing that I'm more aware of," he said. "Dismissed."

Starlight stamped her foot onto the ground as she came to attention. "Thank you, sir."

XxXxX​

First Councillor Aspen Emerald stood in the conference room in his official residence; the large glass doors into the garden offered a pleasant view of the flowerbeds, the rosebushes, and the lawn in which Bramble was presently playing, climbing around on the little metal jungle gym that Aspen had put up there when he moved in. Aspen watched him for a moment out of the glass doors, climbing higher and higher, before he returned his attention to the business at hand.

The interior of the conference room was dominated by a large table of dark, varnished wood, with space and chairs to seat twenty people around it, but at present, the only person in the room beside himself was General Blackthorn. The General had his peaked cap tucked underneath his arm, exposing the baldness between his antlers.

They had taken to meeting every week, to go over issues with Vale's defences — or, Aspen hoped, how improvements to said defences were progressing.

Progress might not be as swift as he liked, but no one would be able to accuse him of not knowing exactly what was going on.

Provided that he managed to keep his focus.

Aspen tugged at his tie with one hand. "Excuse me, General; you were saying?"

Blackthorn cleared his throat. "I was saying, Mister Councillor, that the Warrior's engine troubles have been resolved satisfactorily, and she can join Terror in the skies over Vale."

"Excellent," Aspen said. "What about expediting the refit on Royal Sovereign? Or the repairs on Defender?"

"Overtime has been offered at the docks," Blackthorn said. "Time and a half on weekends."

"Take it up to double time," Aspen instructed him.

"Are you sure, Mister Councillor?"

"I'll find the money for it somewhere," Aspen replied. "Nobody works weekends for time and a half."

"I'll bow to your expertise," Blackthorn muttered. "If there is sufficient take-up, it may be possible to get Defender out in a few weeks, but Royal Sovereign is impossible."

"Absolutely impossible?"

"Unless you want her up in the air with parts missing, Mister Councillor," Blackthorn said.

"It may come to that," Aspen muttered. "But hopefully not. I've received an update from the Mistralians; apparently, they're making good progress getting their two battleships ready to sail. They hope to be able to deliver them before the Vytal Festival."

"Indeed, Mister Councillor," Blackthorn said.

Aspen frowned. "Do you have something to say, General?"

"May I say it candidly, Mister Councillor?"

"If you wish."

"I think you've been sold a pup with those airships," Blackthorn said. "Even if they were first-rate vessels when they were laid down, the designs would be obsolete by now, and that would apply even if they've been kept in good condition, which they clearly haven't been. Old ships dragged out of mothballs? Vale would have been better off spending the money on new warships."

"And how long would it take to build a new, first-class warship?" Aspen asked.

Blackthorn considered it. "The Atlesians can lay down a cruiser in a year," he said.

"And the Alexandria yards?" Aspen pressed.

"Including design … three years," Blackthorn admitted. "Perhaps as many as five."

Aspen nodded. "We do not have a year, General; we certainly don't have three to five. There will be elections not long after the Vytal Festival is over—"

"Some might say you're putting party over kingdom, Mister Councillor," Blackthorn murmured.

Aspen clasped his hands behind his back. "I didn't appoint you to this command, Blackthorn, so that you could judge me. We are the natural party of government, and it is in the best interests of this kingdom that we should remain in government. I will not allow that ruddy-faced oaf into the First Councillor's office because I was too slow to address the people's concerns on defence.

"You may be right about those Mistralian ships. They may be worthless junk from a military perspective, but by the gods, they'll look grand from the ground when people look up and see them in the skies above the city. They will feel safe. They will feel secure. And as the grimm are attracted to negative emotions, then does it not follow that anything that decreases said emotions is of some military benefit?"

Blackthorn nodded. "You may have a point, Mister Councillor."

"You will get your modern ships in time," Aspen said. "I guarantee it. In fact, you may start putting out the tenders for designs — we must have our own designs, optimised for our own needs, not Atlesian knockoffs — right now."

Blackthorn's eyebrows rose. "Can it be costed? We're already exceeding the year's military budget by quite considerable—"

"Thanks to Novo's careful stewardship of the economy, and the record growth that we've been enjoying thanks to good conservative policies, the tax burden has remained at record lows," Aspen said, turning away from Blackthorn for a moment to watch his son swinging from the bars out in the garden beyond. "Income tax at fifteen percent, National Insurance at a mere eight percent … yes, we will raise the National Insurance by one and a half percent and earmark the rise for increased defence spending. After all, defence spending is an insurance against the possibility of another attack like the one we experienced, and who would begrudge the kingdom a few extra lien to ensure that something like the Breach never happens again?"

"Someone will, I'm sure," Blackthorn said dryly. "But I'm sure we can find ways to spend the money. The Home Guard needs to be properly equipped, and many of our regular units could do with modernising their gear as well as their training."

"How is recruitment for the Home Guard?" Aspen asked.

"Booming, according to the latest figures I have," Blackthorn said. "Across the kingdom, hundreds of thousands of people are volunteering; gods know how we're going to arm them all."

"We can ask for patience on that front," Aspen said. "For now, it's enough that people feel as though they're doing something, contributing, making a difference. People need to feel as though the kingdom is moving in the right direction. In a safer direction. That is why I want you to start planning some forays against the grimm."

"'Forays'?" Blackthorn repeated.

"We need to prove that our forces are just as capable as the Atlesians of going up against the creatures of grimm," Aspen explained. "So find some grimm and go kill them."

Blackthorn frowned slightly. "Since the Breach, there haven't been any large concentrations of grimm—"

"Small ones will be even better; the victories will be easy, and we can trumpet them loudly all the same," Aspen said. "The practical effect is irrelevant; the point is to give the impression of competence."

"I will start looking at some options, Mister Councillor."

"Inform me before you make any movements," Aspen instructed him. "Have you heard anything from Colonel Sky Beak?"

"Nothing of note," Blackthorn said. "Although there was one odd thing that happened very recently."

"Go on."

"Two of Ironwood's students disappeared for a few nights, without leave," Blackthorn said. "Apparently, they were in the company of one of Ozpin's students. It's probably nothing, but it is a little irregular."

Aspen's mouth tightened. "You wouldn't happen to know the name of the Beacon student, would you?"

"Ironwood's two are Trixie Lulamoon and Starlight Glimmer," Blackthorn said. "Something of a pair of rising stars, apparently, they fought at the Breach—"

"And the Beacon student?" Aspen demanded.

Blackthorn hesitated for a moment. "Sunset Shimmer, one of the heroes of the Breach."

'One of the heroes of the Breach.' The architect of the Breach, the cause of all our misery and misfortune. Oh, how it galled at him to hear her called a hero; oh, how he wanted to wring her neck with his bare hands.

And she had set out not alone, but in company; in company with a pair of Atlas students. Were Ozpin and Ironwood conspiring to make a fool of him? How much had Sunset Shimmer told them?

"As you say," Aspen said, through gritted teeth. "It's probably nothing. Thank you, General, that will be all."

"Mister Councillor," Blackthorn said, as he replaced the cap on top of his head and turned to walk down the long table, towards the doors that led out into the rest of the official residence.

Aspen turned away and looked out into the garden. He did not see the general leave, but he heard the door click shut behind him. His eyes were focussed upon Bramble, watching him play, watching the smile upon his face, watching him swing and climb and slide down the blue plastic slide.

Bramble saw him watching, and waved to him with a big, bright smile upon his face.

Aspen forced himself to smile back, and to wave back also.

The smile faded from his face as Bramble ran back to start climbing the bars again.

Sunset Shimmer, someone he admired, someone he played as, had been willing to let him die. And now it fell to Aspen to undo the damage she had done.

He would make Vale safe, but in the meantime, if he could make Vale believe that it was safe, then maybe they could get through this.

The door into the conference room was opened by Woolly, his principal private secretary. "Uh, Professor Ozpin here to see you, First Councillor."

Aspen turned towards the door. "Send him in, Woolly."

"Are you sure, First Councillor?" Woolly asked.

"Send him in, Woolly," Aspen repeated, more firmly this time.

"Of course, First Councillor," Woolly replied, before ducking out of the room.

A moment later, Professor Ozpin walked in.

"First Councillor," he said, bowing his head for a moment.

"Professor," Aspen said. "Just the man I wanted to see."

"Indeed, First Councillor?" Ozpin asked, in an irritatingly genial tone. "What a fortunate coincidence."

The door closed behind the headmaster, who took a few steps into the conference room, although some distance yet remained between the two of them.

It was a distance that Aspen was very happy to leave in place.

"Miss Shimmer returned to Beacon last night," Ozpin said. "Having survived your attempt to dispose of her."

Aspen inhaled through his nose. "So you are aware of our arrangement."

"I am," Ozpin said coldly. "And it is only because Miss Shimmer did not wish it that I have not paid you a visit to discuss it before now."

"You disapprove?"

"Very much so, yes," Ozpin murmured.

"Are you aware of what she did?" Aspen demanded.

Ozpin nodded slightly. "Miss Shimmer confessed that to me also."

"And yet it is me that you disapprove of, and my actions?" Aspen asked. "Me, when all I do is—"

"Seek to send a girl to her death."

"I seek justice," Aspen declared. "Justice that will not visit her any other way."

Ozpin was quiet for a moment. "You know the truth. You could arrest her for it, if you wish."

Aspen snorted. "That would drag the whole affair out into the open, as you know. And as you know, Vale cannot afford the alarm that would be caused by finding out that one of its defenders, one of its celebrated defenders, recognised for her actions in the Breach, was in fact willing to throw the entire city away. I offer her a hero's death and a chance at atonement."

Ozpin frowned. "Forgive me, First Councillor," he said, "but I have seen too much death to find anything heroic in it."

"On that, if nothing else, we can agree," Aspen muttered, with a glance out of the window. "How … how can you tolerate this? How can you tolerate her, knowing what she did? I do not like you, Professor, and I have not been shy in saying so, but I did not in my wildest dreams think that you would…" He turned away, rubbing at his jaw with one hand. "Is this what you're teaching up at that damn school of yours?"

"No," Ozpin said firmly.

"Then why?"

"Because I have lived a long time," Ozpin replied. "And if my life has taught me anything, it is that forgiveness is always preferable to judgement."

Aspen's lip curled into a sneer. "So no one should ever be forced to take responsibility for their actions?"

"With respect, First Councillor, you are the one who decided to cover up Miss Shimmer's actions, before I did," Ozpin pointed out. "What you have asked of her is not taking responsibility for anything. And it ends now."

Aspen looked at him. "Don't you think you might be overstepping your bounds, Ozpin?"

"Miss Shimmer is my student," Ozpin said calmly. "I understand my bounds perfectly."

"You're choosing to shield a—"

"I am shielding someone who made a mistake," Ozpin said, cutting him. "And I am choosing to shield the Kingdom of Vale from the consequences of yours."

"Meaning?" Aspen demanded.

"Meaning that Miss Shimmer did not go alone to Arcadia Lake," Ozpin said.

Aspen snorted. "Of that, I was made aware already. Did you and Ironwood arrange that together?"

"No, General Ironwood was not informed of the decision of Miss Lulamoon and Miss Glimmer to accompany Miss Shimmer," Ozpin replied. "Nor was he pleased when he found out. You should thank me that I didn't point him in your direction when he came to me with questions."

Aspen ignored that. "Then why—"

"Friendship," Ozpin said. "Loyalty. The bonds that enable our huntsmen and huntresses to stand together and to triumph. As they did at Arcadia Lake. As Miss Shimmer would not have done had she ventured there alone. What did you really expect a single first-year student to accomplish by herself?"

Aspen was silent for a moment. "With … contact lost, I thought that she would find a dead village," he admitted.

"Instead, she found a live one," Ozpin informed him. "One which was defended by the efforts of Miss Lulamoon, and Miss Glimmer, in ways that Miss Shimmer alone could not have achieved. Six people are dead because of Miss Shimmer's mistake, but a village full of Valish citizens are alive today because your mistake was averted by the virtue of Miss Glimmer and Miss Lulamoon."

Aspen was silent for a while. He turned away from the window, turned away from Bramble playing in the garden. He leaned upon the large wooden table, placing his hands upon it, bowing his head as far as it would go before his antlers touched his arms.

He was silent because there was little to say. Or rather, what there was to say was not particularly what he wished to say. He had seen that contact with Arcadia Lake had been re-established last night, a small detail mentioned in the daily bulletin from the Department of the Interior. There had been no details about Sunset Shimmer, of course, whether she was alive or dead.

It seemed she was alive, and yet, without the help of those two Atlesians, she would have been dead.

And so would everyone living in Arcadia Lake.

Aspen closed his eyes. He didn't know how many people exactly lived in Arcadia Lake; more than six, he was sure.

He didn't want to admit that Ozpin was right, but … the man was right, infuriatingly; it was one thing to wish Sunset Shimmer dead, but it was quite another to endanger the people of Vale by making their only shield such a weak reed.

They deserved better from their council.

"I did not seek this office," he murmured.

"The best never do, First Councillor," Ozpin said softly.

Aspen snorted. "But I am not the best, am I?"

"It is very early days at present."

"Oh, for God's sake stop," Aspen snapped. "Do you have any idea how damn condescending you sound?" He straightened up, tugging at his jacket to iron out the folds. "Or was condescension your intent?"

"It was not," Ozpin said. "I apologise if it appeared that way."

Again, Aspen paused. The words had to be dragged out of his throat with pliers, it felt like. "You are right," he said, through gritted teeth. "I hate to admit it — as much as I hate you — but you are right. In seeking to avenge lives, I forgot that there are other lives at stake."

"In my experience," Ozpin said. "For a huntsman, there is no such thing as a mission where lives are not at stake; sometimes, that is very direct, a village in jeopardy. At other times, information not relayed back may cost lives through lack of preparedness, a creature that is not killed at a certain point will do more damage if left alive. There is no task that you could set Miss Shimmer that would have no side effects if she failed to complete it."

"And what of the task you set for her?" Aspen demanded. "What of your sending her to Mountain Glenn?"

"Had I known the scale of the threat posed by the White Fang in Mountain Glenn in advance, I would of course have made different choices," Ozpin said. "I would, of course, have sent a different reconnaissance force. But if I had known the scale of the White Fang threat in advance, there would have scarcely been any need to reconnoitre in the first place. The real mistake made by Teams Sapphire and Rosepetal was not withdrawing immediately once they had detected the scale of the enemy presence. They forgot that their mission was to bring back information, not stop the enemy single-handed."

"You don't think there should be consequences for what happened?"

"Have you not already decided that there should not be?" Ozpin asked.

"You know what I mean," Aspen growled.

"Miss Shimmer will make up for her error, in the days and weeks and years to come," Ozpin said, with that infuriating calm of his. "But by living and serving in a sensible manner."

"You still trust her to be a huntress?"

"It will no doubt seem strange to you, but I trust her now more than I did before."

"You're right; that does sound strange to me," Aspen replied. "And a little bit suspect, if I'm being honest."

It seemed almost as if Ozpin would smile, although he did not actually do so. "I could say it is as simple as having witnessed her contrition, but truth to tell, it is more than that. Miss Shimmer has been … blooded now; she knows what is at stake, she knows the consequence of failure. I find that easier to trust than someone who may still believe that this is all a great and glorious game."

Aspen hesitated. "I accept your point," he said quietly. "There will be no more extraordinary missions for Sunset Shimmer. And so … what? We go on, pretending nothing is amiss, fooling the people?"

"Is it not the point of politics to fool the people?" Ozpin asked. "To convince them that nothing is amiss?"

"A very cynical approach to politics," Aspen said. "I imagine you don't vote; no doubt you believe all politicians are the same."

"I don't vote, no," Ozpin conceded. "Because it is my job to work with whomever might be on the Council at any given time, and I believe I can do that best by not having preferences."

"Very public spirited."

"In answer to your question, First Councillor, yes, we go on," Ozpin said. "You go on trying to remove me from my post, but leave my students out of it."

Aspen let out a slightly bitter chuckle. "Very well. Tell Sunset Shimmer that she has nothing more to fear from my wrath … for now." His expression hardened. "Now get out of my office, and out of my sight."

Ozpin nodded. "It has been a pleasure to speak with you, First Councillor."

XxXxX​

Evenfall Gleaming. She still lives? I would never have believed it.

I didn't believe it myself, but while I suppose it's possible that she was lying, I don't see what reason she would have to do so. And she had the Dark Regalia, which, again, I suppose she could have taken from the real Evenfall's body, but again, I don't see why she would pretend to be somepony that she wasn't. It isn't even as though Evenfall is particularly well known outside of students of history.

I had no idea that dark magic could extend your life like that.

There is a great deal about dark magic that is unknown; however, given the risks of studying it, I am prepared to accept a certain degree of ignorance if it means keeping my little ponies from falling into harm. Certainly, it is not a subject that I would like either of my students to delve into.

Sunset glanced over her shoulder, towards her bed, where the Dark Regalia lay in her pack. I will not use them save in direst need. I will not use them, and I'm certainly not going to study how they work.

Don't worry, Princess, I'm not going to go down that road. I know what I need, and it isn't that. What I need — what I needed, at least — was to see that trying to do everything on my own was irresponsible, not only for myself but for those that I was trying to save. Without Starlight and Trixie, Evenfall would have made it back to Equestria, and while I'm sure you could have stopped her, Twilight

I'm glad that we didn't have to. I'd ask you to thank the others for me, but of course you can't.

I've thanked them on my own behalf, so hopefully, that will do.

One thing puzzles me about this, I must confess: what were you doing setting off on this mission alone in the first place, without the support of your friends and teammates? From what you've told me, I understood that it was the policy of your school to send whole teams out on these dangerous excursions.

Sunset felt her mouth begin to go dry. She could have answered that question if she and Twilight had been speaking alone — in fact, Twilight could probably guess at the answer already — but Princess Celestia did not know about Sunset's choice in the tunnel and could not know about it; she could no more know about it than Sunset's friends could know about it. It would … it would destroy what they had managed to rebuild if she knew how far that Sunset had fallen.

She rubbed the space between her eyebrows as she sought for an excuse. I fear I have not been entirely myself since the battle. I thought that if I left my friends behind, I could protect them, keep them safe from harm by keeping them far from harm. I was a fool.

I will not deny that, Sunset, but I will say that I am glad that you have learned the lesson so swiftly; it takes others far longer.

It helps that I'm not learning it for the first time.

That too is nothing to be ashamed of. Some lessons need a little repetition to sink in, and utter change in an instant is often impossible, much as we would like it to be otherwise. You have survived, and you have time to learn and grow a little longer before you become set in your ways. But please, for my sake, do not backslide again; the fact that you are accompanied by the friends whom you make seem so skilled, and with whom you seem to have such close bonds, is one of the few things that calms my heart when I think of you embroiled in such desperate battles. Please, Little Sunbeam, for my sake, keep them close.

I have already promised my own teammates thus, how can I do any less for you? I promise, Princess; you have my word as your former student, and as an Equestrian gentlemare. I will not be parted from them on the battlefield again. At least, not without insuperable need.

That is not quite so comprehensive a promise as I would have liked.

No, but some things happen that cannot be avoided or escaped; I would not make myself an oath-breaker by accident.

I suppose that would be too much to ask of you. The promise you have given is enough, and I am glad that you are feeling more yourself after what happened to you. I only regret that you will be sent on more such expeditions by Professor Ozpin.

That may be so, but I will bear it better now that I have a better opinion of Professor Ozpin than once I did.

Really?

He is a better man that I gave him credit for. More compassionate than I took him for. I think that you might like him, Princess Celestia, if you could speak to him.

Perhaps I would, and perhaps I will some day.

He is aware of Equestria, although I fear he does not have the best opinion of us as a people and a land.

Why not?

Because we have given Remnant people like Evenfall Gleaming; can you really blame him?

When you put it like that, not really.

Starswirl was my mentor, and I will always remember him fondly for his teachings, his wisdom; I will always be grateful for guiding me on the path that led me to rule Equestria and for preparing to rule, I think, well and do good for all my little ponies. And yet at the same time, just as I am not above criticism, just as I have made mistakes, so Starswirl is not exempt from censure. It seems that he thought too little of Remnant and of those who dwelled there, that he was careless with it, loosing Equestria's problems upon it without a care for how those already living in Remnant would receive them.

The fact that Professor Ozpin is annoyed does not make Starswirl wholly wrong, no matter how justified Professor Ozpin's annoyance might be in turn.

The fact that Professor Ozpin's annoyance is justified pretty much makes Starswirl wrong by definition, doesn't it?

You think you can only be justifiably upset with someone who's in the wrong?

I suppose not, but I still don't fully take your meaning.

I mean that it was rough on Remnant to drop, for example, Evenfall upon them the way that Starswirl did, but we weren't there; we can't know what he was up against. Actually, no, that's a lie; I do know what he was up against, and she would have beaten Trixie, Starlight, and Ditzy if Trixie hadn't figured out how to turn the rules of the living nightmare against her at the last minute and fight her on terrain she couldn't match. In a straight contest of her magic, amplified by the Dark Regalia, against their strength, she would have won. Maybe she would have beaten Starswirl too, if it isn't too disrespectful to say so; after all, she had crafted the Dark Regalia to increase her power; what if she increased it beyond his own? What if he had no choice but to banish her to Remnant because she was winning?

That's a fair point, I suppose, and between thinking that Starswirl was flawed and thinking that he was callous, I suppose flawed is the better option.

You can still be a fan of a flawed person. I have fans now, apparently, and I'm about as flawed as you can get.

Really? You have fans?

No need to be so surprised about it!

Sorry.

It's fine. I was a little surprised myself, but apparently, the First Councillor's son admires me. Apparently, there aren't too many faunus huntsman to look up to.

And how does it make you feel, to be a role model?

Sunset sucked on the back of her pen as she considered her response. Before, it would have puffed my ego. Now, it feels a burden that I neither deserve nor am equal to. Beyond that, I also feel the need to earn his respect. No, perhaps 'earn' is not the right word; 'justify' might be a better choice of words. I feel the need to model in my actions what he already believes me to be.

That is precisely what it means to be admired.

Come now, Princess, you cannot feel unworthy of the love your ponies bear you.

And why not? Why should I be immune from such doubts?

Because She blinked rapidly, scarcely comprehending what she had read on the page. you're Princess Celestia; you, of all ponies in Equestria, are well worthy of all good things that are said of you and more. You are worthy to be praised and raised and applauded and placed upon a pedestal, if any are.

From what you have told me the same might be said of your friend Pyrrha, but how does she feel about that?

Sunset kept on blinking. You have always felt thus?

Always.

You never let on to me.

It was not your burden to bear, especially not at so young an age. And yet now, I think it might help you to know that that fear will never leave you: the fear that you are not, that you cannot be, all that they think you are. All that they need you to be. And yet, that same fear will also inspire you and drive you to be better, so that you may live up to their expectations, and that is no bad thing at all.

Now your expectations too are laid upon me.

I'm sorry, Sunset, I didn't mean to burden you further.

It is not a burden, far from it. It is a blessing. If I can make you proud, if the only things that I accomplish in this world are to see my friends safely through these wars and make you proud, I will count myself well blessed.

Oh, Little Sunbeam, you have already made me proud.

Say it not, for I am undeserving, Sunset thought, feeling a knot in her stomach at the praise she had not earned. Then I must act in a manner worthy of your pride.

What will you do if Evenfall returns?

Without the Dark Regalia, I fear her less; with my friends by my side, I have no doubt we can overcome her.

Nice to hear some confidence returning. I have good news, by the way: I've managed to work out how to open the portal and let your friends come through to Equestria.

'By the way'? That's not a 'by the way'; why didn't you say something earlier?

You were talking.

Well you should have interrupted me then. How did you do it?

It was actually Pinkie who worked out how.

Pinkie Pie?

That's right.

Pinkie Pie worked out how to solve the issue of opening a magical portal at will across worlds.

Please don't say it like that.

I'm sorry, but really?

Once she pointed out that an at-will conduit already exists between Equestrian and Remnant in the form of these two journals, it was quite easy to extrapolate.

Twilight paused, and Sunset felt as though she were being given a chance to try and get the answer for herself. She thought for a moment. Are you going to use the magic from the book to power the portal?

The magic is interspatial.

Yes, I suppose it is. Thank you, Twilight; this will mean a lot to Penny. I hope it will mean something to Blake, too.

You're welcome.

Now, if you will both excuse me, I need to call and tell them about it.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Visitors Past and Present​

The house of Chiron was not much to look at from without, although that would not have prevented some from calling it idyllic. The aged warrior had made his home upon the slopes of Mount Pelion, one of the mountains that lay around Mistral, across the valley from the great city itself. His dwelling was made of wood, stout logs piled on top of one another to form a cabin, if the word did not conjure up something too small compared to the reality, which was of a perfectly reasonably-sized house that just happened to be made of wood and on its own halfway up an otherwise scantly-occupied mountain. A goat was tethered up outside the front door, aimlessly chewing on the grass as Terri-Belle approached down the dirt track, and to her left, she could see the waters glistening as a stream ran down the mountainside nearby. Behind the house, tall trees grew, green and twisted of limb in the Mistralian fashion, their leaves turning golden at the edges as autumn drew near.

It was, as Terri-Belle had thought, idyllic, or at least it was someone's conception of idyllic.

This was in my prayers, a measure of land not so large, and, near the garden, a spring of pure water, and above this, a little patch of woods. The gods have given me more and better.

Well, if the rustic idyll was what Chiron wanted, then who were gods or men to stand in his way?

And yet, Terri-Belle had come, not to stand in his way precisely, but to drag him away from it to an uncertain end.

A dog barked from inside the house as Terri-Belle approached the front door; she was ahorse, mounted upon Oakheart, and his hooves pounded a little upon the dirt track. She reined him in a few paces before the door and dismounted, tethering her horse to the post that Chiron had conveniently placed there for visitors. Terri-Belle rested her spear lightly upon her shoulder as she walked the rest of the short distance.

The door, like the rest of the wooden house, was unpainted, although there was a fancy door knocker shaped like a horse's head nailed to it. Terri-Belle seized hold of the handle in one hand and knocked robustly, making a thumping noise that seemed to echo all around.

The barking of the dog — dogs now; it had been joined by another — grew louder from within the house.

"Quiet! Quiet, both of you!" squawked a woman's voice from inside. "Quiet, or there'll be no dinner tonight!"

The dogs began to quiet down. There was a moment's pause before the door opened, revealing a middle-aged woman, as tall as Terri-Belle herself, with auburn hair turning to grey in places, dressed in a gown of light rose with a belt of golden leaves clasped about her waist.

Her name was Chariclo, and she glared at Terri-Belle with her hazel eyes. "What do you want?" she demanded.

Terri-Belle drew in a breath. "It's good to see you again too, ma'am," she said.

"It is not good for me to see you," Chariclo declared. "I can guess why you are here. The answer is no."

Terri-Belle rested the butt of Thunderbolt upon the ground. "Isn't that Chiron's decision to make?"

"Don't talk to me like this does not concern me, my lady," Chariclo snapped. "I am his wife; this is as much my decision as it is—"

"Chariclo," Chiron's voice, rich and deep, echoed out from somewhere inside the house. "Who is it, dear heart?"

Terri-Belle forestalled any answer that Chariclo might have given by calling out, "It's Terri-Belle, Master."

"Terri-Belle?" Chiron repeated, and Terri-Belle heard the sounds of hooves upon the wooden floorboards before the man himself emerged into view at the far end of the hallway. "Terri-Belle!" he cried, advancing towards her. "My dear girl! What a pleasant surprise."

Chiron was a man older than his appearance, although Terri-Belle wasn't sure exactly how much older he was because she wasn't certain how old he was. He was someone who appeared to have been around forever, a huntsmen and a trainer of huntsmen — a trainer of heroes. He had never taught at Haven, but all the best warriors had been instructed by him, if only for a little while. The great houses competed fiercely to have their scions accepted into his tutelage, but — as his modest dwelling might attest — he did not charge exorbitant fees for the privilege, but rather, chose his charges very carefully, selecting only those who interested him, those in whom he saw potential.

It had not made him rich, but it had given those trained by him a certain imprimatur of status. To have been taught by Chiron was to have been marked out as something special by one who was said to know quality when he saw it.

Conversely, to have him refuse you was … difficult. When he had declined to train Swift Foot, preferring to retire instead, Father had been very disappointed in her. Although not as disappointed as Swift Foot had been in herself.

The man himself was a faunus, a horse faunus with brown equine legs and equine hooves which thumped upon his floor, and the legs were barely hidden by the shorts he was wearing; his top was a little better covered up in a light brown tunic and a cloak of green across his back clasped with a pair of golden leaves. His hair was long and dark, turning to grey in places, as was the wild dark beard that erupted from his face. A crown of laurel leaves — real laurel leaves, and fresh too, by the look of them — adorned his brow.

Terri-Belle bowed her head. "Master," she murmured.

"'Master,'" Chiron repeated. "How long has it been since I taught you, that you call me 'Master'?"

"Too long," Terri-Belle murmured.

She missed those days. She missed the simplicity of them. The innocence of youth, before someone was killing all of her huntsmen.

"Times change," Chiron said, not unsympathetically. "Might as well try to stop the changing of the seasons. But it is good to see you again, my lady."

"Please, no," Terri-Belle said, holding up one hand. "I may not be your student anymore, but you don't have to bow and scrape to me. It would feel too bizarre to contemplate. May I come inside?"

"Of course," Chiron said, gesturing for her to come inside. Chariclo sniffed, but made way for Terri-Belle to step in through the door and rest her spear against the wall.

"Come into the kitchen," Chiron went on, turning his back on her and leading the way, leaving Terri-Belle and Chariclo to follow. "Would you like some wine? Something to eat, perhaps? We have bread baked in our own ovens, cheese from our own goat—"

"Does the wine come from your own grapes?" Terri-Belle asked.

"Only if you want to be poisoned," Chariclo muttered.

Chiron chuckled. "Sadly, I haven't quite gotten the hang of winemaking just yet, so it will be from Markos' vineyard." He looked at her over his shoulder. "If you wish to partake, that is?"

"I will not decline, either food or wine," Terri-Belle replied.

"Excellent!" Chiron proclaimed. "Excellent!"

He led them into the kitchen, where a pair of ageing hounds were lying in front of the burning fire, heads pressed against the floor. Their names where Aello and Agre, and they had belonged to Actaeon, an old pupil of Chiron's from before Terri-Belle's time, and when he had been killed — Chiron had never talked about what had killed him, if he even knew — then Chiron had taken in his hounds. Aello got up from the floor and wandered over to her, tongue hanging out, panting slightly.

Terri-Belle knelt to give him a scratch behind the ears, smiling slightly as she did so. She envied him, that he could be pleased so easily, that a little thing like being scratched behind the ears could make him forget his troubles; if, indeed, he had any troubles to forget.

The kitchen was rustic, but spacious, with joints of meat hanging above the fireplace and strings of garlic hanging from the walls. Chiron sat down at a plain wooden table and gestured for Terri-Belle to take the other.

Terri-Belle too sat down. Chariclo filled a wooden bowl with rich, dark red wine and set it down upon the table with a little too much force.

She did not sit down with them, but lurked in the corner of the kitchen, listening to their conversation without being part of it.

Terri-Belle found herself trying to ignore the woman's presence. "How is retirement treating you?" she asked. "Is the life of a farmer everything that you thought it would be."

Chiron chuckled. "I'm no farmer," he said. "Chariclo does most of the work, I must admit, although, I … I—"

"Gets underfoot," Chariclo said.

"I dabble, here and there," Chiron said. "Mostly, retirement has given me a chance to indulge my hobbies: astrology, botany—"

"I remember when you taught me the lore of the herbs of healing," Terri-Belle said. "It hardly sounds like a hobby to me."

Chiron shrugged. "Now, I can look beyond healing herbs. I can potter about, growing whatever plants I see fit, and there is no one to tell me that I should have found something better to do."

"And that's why you retired?" Terri-Belle asked. "To grow plants and watch the stars?"

"There's nothing wrong with plants or stars," Chiron informed her. "How much do you remember of the herb lore I taught you?"

"Not as much as I should," Terri-Belle admitted.

"You never know when you'll be in a pinch, far from conventional modern medicine," Chiron reproached her. "But a plant that has no practical value may still be beautiful, and a star even more so. Sometimes, when the nights are dark and the moon is new, I look up with my telescope and see all the constellations spread out so brightly above me. I could spend hours mapping them, charting their movements from night, just looking at them. Looking at them and wondering if there is anything finer in life than this?" He paused for a moment. "But the truth is, I retired because, having trained my greatest pupil, there didn't seem to be much point in going on. Pyrrha … seemed as good a line to draw under my career as any."

"He never taught anyone so good as her before," Chariclo pronounced, with what seemed to Terri-Belle to be just a little too much relish in her voice as she looked pointedly at Terri-Belle — Terri-Belle would, and had, admit that it was true, but there was no need to rub it in like that. "He would never teach anyone so good after. Why not retire then? Why not finish on a high?"

"Chariclo … may mean some offence," Chiron added diplomatically. "But I mean none when I say … having trained the evening star, what else was left for me to do?"

Terri-Belle did not reply for a moment. Rather, she picked up the bowl of wine and raised it to her lips, tipping it upwards so that the rich red wine flowed out of the bowl and into her mouth. It was tart but fruity, with a slight nutty quality to it. She set down the bowl and picked up a napkin to dab gently at her lips. The napkin came away stained red, like a bloody bandage.

She set the reminder of recent events down on the table before she said, "Is that why you wouldn't train my sister?"

Chiron sighed. "I meant no disrespect."

"You refused my father; how was he to take it except as disrespect?"

"Your father made a request of me," Chiron replied. "I, with all courtesy, declined his request. If he was offended by that, it was not my doing or my intention."

Terri-Belle's brow furrowed. She said, half-fearing to know the answer, "Was it simply the fact that you wished to retire, or would you have changed your mind if Swift Foot had shown greater promise?"

Chiron looked her in the eye, without flinching. "Swift Foot is as good as Jason or Meleager when they came to me," he said. "She could be as skilled as you one day, if she is well taught."

"'Well taught,'" Terri-Belle repeated. "But not by you."

"No," Chiron agreed. "Not by me."

Now it was his turn to reach for the bowl of wine, picking it up and drinking out of the other side of the bowl to Terri-Belle.

"Do you keep in touch with any of your students?" Terri-Belle asked. Chiron had not kept in touch with her, but she was a little curious — she was now, at least; it might not have occurred to her to ask if it were not for Chariclo's blatant favouritism — to know if that reflected on her in any way.

"No," Chiron informed her. "No, not anymore."

"'Anymore'?" Terri-Belle said. "You used to?"

"Yes," Chiron murmured. "I used to."

Terri-Belle blinked. "When did you stop? Why?"

"Why do you think?" Chariclo asked, although she had her back to them now, cutting up bread on one of the kitchen surfaces. With her knife, she gestured briefly at the dogs that sat by the fire.

Terri-Belle glanced at the hounds, sitting contentedly, the firelight dancing upon their fur. Agre looked up at her, as if he could sense that he was being regarded, and let out a little high-pitched whine before laying his head back down and closing his eyes.

"Actaeon," she whispered.

Chiron nodded. "Actaeon," he repeated. "He and I remained in touch. He visited me often, sharing stories of his exploits, judging my later pupils. He would always deny that they could ever be as skilled as he was, as swift, as cunning." He smiled, if only for a moment. "And then he died, and his hounds found their way to me."

He glanced at Aello and Agre where they lay. "I took them in, of course. What else could I do, but … I realised that if I had treated them all the way that I treated Actaeon, then … ten thousand fates of death surround us, as the poets say; I didn't want my home to become a mausoleum full of relics of old students passed on. I didn't want to be reminded of them, left to ponder the question that always haunted me with Actaeon: could I have taught him better?"

"You wonder that?" Terri-Belle asked. "Truly?"

"Should I not?" Chiron replied. "My pupils die."

"Ten thousand fates of death surround us, as you say, which no man may escape or avoid," Terri-Belle responded. "And while they live, before inevitable destiny claims them, those taught by you win glory unsurpassed. You are the trainer of heroes; you cannot say that it brings you no honour, nor pride."

"I didn't say that," Chiron corrected her. "I don't keep in touch with them, but I follow their achievements. I read about them. I read when you were named Captain of the Imperial Guard and Warden of the White Tower. I read of Pyrrha's battles against the White Fang, and this grimm attack more recently — what in the name of all the gods has been going on in Vale?"

Terri-Belle shrugged. "You had better ask the Valish; all I can say is that they have been incompetent … but that their incompetence has allowed Pyrrha to win great glory, and it has given us a wakeup call I fear we sorely needed."

"And how is the mood," asked Chariclo, "regarding Pyrrha's glory?"

Terri-Belle twisted in her seat a little to look at her. "The whole city celebrates her achievement."

Chariclo snorted as she set down a basket of bread, cut roughly into triangular wedges, down upon the table. "You don't believe that," she said. "I certainly don't."

Terri-Belle sighed. "Perhaps there are some who are jealous of her accomplishment—"

"'Perhaps'?" Chariclo repeated incredulously. "When Pyrrha was training with Chiron, I once caught Jason and Meleager plotting to put something in her food to make her sick, to punish her for showing them up. There will always be those who envy greatness."

"You're right," Terri-Belle admitted. "But few would be so gauche as to admit it publicly."

"Chariclo was Pyrrha's nurse," Chiron informed her. "She keeps a far closer eye on her life than I do."

"And why shouldn't I?" demanded Chariclo. "Her mother was too weak to take care of her. I went to the house, and I saw her for the first time, and I thought 'this cannot be the mother of a newborn babe! Surely, she must be her grandmother!' But no, she was Pyrrha's mother, though she looked so old that I could hardly believe it. Hippolyta told me she would never bear another child, and I could believe that, for the gods had taken all her strength and put it into this squalling girl. So I fed her, and I washed her, and I wiped her bottom; I am entitled to know what happens to her afterwards."

"You know that she's dating some Valish boy," Terri-Belle said.

Chariclo sniffed. "I know. I have seen his picture. He has vacant eyes and a foolish smile. He does not deserve her."

"We men never do, dear heart," Chiron declared. "We never deserve the women who find it in themselves to bear our follies and our foibles."

"That is true," Chariclo agreed. "That is very true." She paused for a moment, before she said, "She must love him very much."

"So sure?" asked Terri-Belle.

"Why else would she put herself through so much fuss and bother, over a nobody?" Chariclo demanded. "He has no family, he has no money, and all the news, they call it an absolute disgrace, a shame on Mistral, an insult. Why endure it, if not for love?"

"I'm sure you're right," Chiron agreed. "And good for her. Humans are not meant to live alone, but in union with one another. And marriage was the best thing I ever did, far moreso than training Pyrrha Nikos."

"And don't you forget it," said Chariclo. She started to cut up some cheese. "I hope he treats her right. Boys can be very cruel."

Terri-Belle winced. "How is Hippe?"

"Well enough," Chiron said. "Her boy will be old enough to start combat school soon."

"Following in the family footsteps?" Terri-Belle asked. "Speaking of which, Carystus is well."

"For now," Chariclo muttered.

Terri-Belle looked down into the bowl of wine. "For now," she conceded. "The world has grown more dangerous."

"When has the world not been dangerous?" Chiron asked, with a glance down at Aello and Agre.

"It feels as though it has gotten worse," Terri-Belle said. "And not only in Vale."

"Which is why you are here," Chiron said.

"Yes," Terri-Belle answered. "That is why I am here." She drank a little more wine and dabbed once more at her mouth with the cloth. "I want you to take up arms again."

"No!" Chariclo cried. "No, you are retired! You have done your part, run your race!"

"Dearest—" Chiron began.

"Don't 'dearest' me; this is my house, and I will not have this talk."

"This is Chiron's decision to make, don't you think?" Terri-Belle asked.

"I am his wife!" Chariclo declared. "If he dies, dragged out to battle, old as he is—"

"I'm not so old!"

"Then I will be the one to mourn for him, to weep for him, to embrace our children while they weep, to live without him in a cold bed and an empty house, is that not enough to make it my decision? You took my son away—"

"Carystus chose to be a huntsman and to join the guard—"

"And what a comfort that will be to me if he should perish, to know that he chose to go this death," Chariclo spat. "Maybe if you had a spouse or children of your own, you would understand."

"Well, I do not," Terri-Belle said sharply, rising to her feet. "But I have three sisters; two of them serve alongside me, one starts her training in earnest next year. Do you think it would not grieve me if they perished in the field? Do you think that I would not rather venture forth myself upon the hazards of battle that they may stay safe within the walls of Mistral, busying themselves with paperwork and administration? Do you think that I would not risk myself ten times before I risked them — or your son, or any of my guards for that matter? Do not think that I am so cold as the armour that I wear. Not for a moment."

She closed her eyes and turned away from Chariclo, presenting her shoulder to the older woman. "But I am also the Warden of the White Tower, not only a sister but a commander also, and I must have regard for Mistral's need, and Mistral's need is great. Mistral's need is for every sword and spear and gun that can be mustered. And that is why I come to you, Chiron. I need retired huntsmen and huntresses to come in from the cold, at least for a little while, to make up our numbers. And you … your name carries great weight; if you come out of retirement, then others will follow. Do you have any contacts from your own generation, anyone you could persuade to take up arms again?"

"Some, perhaps," Chiron admitted. "Theseus and Pirithouos would be up for it, I'm sure. Last time I spoke to them, they were both bored stiff. Maybe others, although I can't guarantee they all have their own teeth. As for myself … are things so bad that you need the help of old hasbeens like us?"

"I doubt you will be a hasbeen even once they have laid you on your pyre," Terri-Belle said. "But yes, things are bad."

"These disappearances I've heard of?"

"Of course you've heard of that," Terri-Belle muttered. "Not disappearances anymore. Someone … someone has been hunting down huntsmen."

"And you want Chiron to put himself in harm's way?" Chariclo said.

"I have taken steps to ensure that no one else will fall victim to this assassin," Terri-Belle declared. "I have taken the complete administration of all huntsman missions into my own hands so that no one can pass information as to where huntsman will be at any given time. Secrecy has, and will continue, to keep our huntsmen safe."

"Will it give you time to do anything but paperwork?" asked Chiron.

"It does when I leave some of it to fester for a little while, as I am doing now," Terri-Belle said. "I believe that I have staunched the bleeding, but our losses have been significant. We are looking to build other forms of defence for Mistral, but it is slow going; poor fellows flock to the colours of Polemarch Yeoh's new army every day, but it will take time to make them soldiers; we are buying androids from the SDC, and as a result, guild representatives beat a path to the Council chamber complaining that we are undermining the Guildhall by dealing with them."

"Are you going to pay such objections any mind?" asked Chiron.

"No," Terri-Belle said. "But even then … robots are not huntsmen."

"I am barely a huntsman," Chiron said. "I'm just an old trainer."

"An old trainer who knows every trick you ever taught to every huntsman or huntress who ever came to you for instruction," Terri-Belle replied. "Please. I would not ask if our need, Mistral's need, were not great." She looked at Chariclo. "Despite what you may think, I have no desire to disrupt your retirement. But I need swords, and more than that, I need men to wield them. I have gone to the Railwaymen to ask them to release their contracted huntsmen; I'd go to the White Fang and offer them an amnesty if I thought the people would stand for it — which they will not, especially after what happened in Vale. I need men. I need good men. And you are one of the best men I know."

She smiled. "You retired because you would never train anyone as good as Pyrrha Nikos. I understand that; I accept it. She is unique, and you only have to watch her to know it. But I'm not asking you to train any new pupil, I'm not asking you to pass on your knowledge, all I am asking is that in Mistral's hour of need you emerge from this cosy home you've made for yourselves and come to the aid of your kingdom. Is that not a fine epilogue for your life's story?"

"Only if he comes back to the home at the end of it," Chariclo muttered.

"He will," Terri-Belle said.

"You cannot be certain."

"No," Terri-Belle conceded. "I cannot. But I will do my damnedest to make sure it does. As I would for any other man in my service."

"In your service?" Chiron said. "I really will have to call you 'my lady,' won't I?"

Terri-Belle looked at him. "In public, certainly. If you agree."

"How can I not?" Chiron replied. "How can I not answer Mistral when she calls?"

"Easily," Chariclo insisted.

"Perhaps," Chiron murmured. "But I will not. I have spent my life training eager boys and girls, preparing them to become heroes. How can I sit at home now, when I am called upon to live the values I have passed on to others? How could I face Actaeon if I did that? I will call around, see how many other old fossils I can find willing to join me in one last war."

"Thank you," Terri-Belle said, a great feeling of relief flooding through her. "Thank you, Master. I will not forget this."

"Neither will I," Chariclo muttered darkly.

XxXxX​

"Juturna," Turnus said as he strode in, "we need to talk."

Juturna didn't look up from her scroll, her fingers tracing over the screen as she placed buildings on the map and set them to work. "Can it wait for a little bit? I've just spent five hundred lien on premium items for this game, and I'm going to lose all of them if the enemy overrun my base."

"'Five hundred lien'?" Camilla said, in a voice that sounded as though she was about to choke.

"Oh, hey," Juturna said, glancing up to see that Camilla was standing in the doorway of her bedroom, just behind Turnus. "It's not that much money, really."

"It is a great deal of money really," Camilla murmured. "To some people, at least."

"And that's why I win, because I've got access to big bro's credit card," Juturna declared gleefully.

"Put the scroll down, Juturna," Turnus said.

"I told you, I just need—"

"Now!" Turnus snapped.

Since Dad died, Juturna could count the number of times that Turnus had raised his voice at her on the fingers of one hand. She looked away from her game, concentration torn from the barbarians who were currently breaking down her outer walls with the help of a dragon. Her hands still held the scroll, but they lowered until the device was resting upon her crossed legs, while she, sitting upon her bed, looked sideways at Turnus and Camilla.

Turnus had come inside the room, standing with his hands by his sides, curled into fists. He was wearing a suit — the trousers and jacket both had a tiger stripe pattern of orange and black — with a white shirt and no tie. Camilla stood behind him, still in the doorway, half in the room and half outside it, her arms folded across her chest. She was wearing a red dress that matched her eyes, with a high neckline wrapped around her throat.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"You're not in any trouble," Camilla assured her.

Juturna turned herself sideways on her bed, crumpling the light pink duvet cover beneath her as she moved to face the two of them. Frilly throw pillows in pink and red and white covered one side of the bed, resting against the wall, while a stuffed bear in a bow tie lay with his head upon the pillow.

"Then why does it feel like I'm in trouble?" Juturna asked.

Turnus walked further into the bedroom. Camilla followed, her tail barely raised up off the floor as she closed the door behind her.

The walls of Juturna's bedroom were painted in royal blue, livened up with some posters of her favourite singers stuck on the walls: Weiss Schnee, Sapphire Shores, Coloratura. A katana that she had brought in an online sale because she thought it looked really cool but which she had never actually used also hung on the wall, at the back of the room behind the dressing table. It was Mom's old dressing table, and Mom's jewellery box with all of her necklaces and tiaras and her engagement ring sat there, mostly unused since Juturna didn't really wear them that often; in fact, she'd pretty much only worn anything from out of Mom's box once, and that was to borrow a tiara for her sixteenth birthday party. Her own jewellery box was smaller and had things like her studded leather bracelets and her array of black chokers. A vanity mirror sat on top of the dressing table, and a little cushioned stool sat in front of it. An acoustic guitar which she could totally play sat propped up against the wall. A bedside table sat, well, beside the bed, with a lamp and a charger for her scroll and a picture of the three of them, taken during the celebrations at the end of the last Mistral Tournament; Turnus and Camilla were all dressed up, standing side by side, lit up by the lanterns that stretched across the market stalls; Juturna was photobombing them, her face taking up half the frame, her tongue out and her expression wild.

There was also a soft chair, for reading or sitting, even though Juturna often preferred to sit on the bed for those things. Nevertheless, the chair gave Turnus a place to sit as he pulled it closer to Juturna's bed before he sat down.

Camilla crossed the room silently and sat down on the bed next to Juturna.

Juturna snapped her scroll shut, resigning herself to taking a bath on all her premium consumables. Oh, well, it was Turnus' money in the end.

"Seriously," she said, looking from Camilla to Turnus, "what's going on?"

Even seated, Camilla was still taller than her and able to look down upon Juturna whether she meant to or not. "Opis had a word with me," she said softly. "About the visitor you had while we were away."

"The— oh, you mean Doctor Watts?" Juturna asked.

"Exactly," Turnus said. "You didn't mention him. Camilla had to hear it from Opis."

Juturna shrugged. "There's nothing to tell. He came in, we talked for a little bit, and then he left again. I didn't think you'd want to know."

"It's what you talked about that I would have liked to have known," Turnus said.

"How much did Opis tell you?" Juturna asked quietly.

"As little as she could get away with, I think," Camilla murmured. "At times, she became quite embarrassed."

Juturna winced. "Yeah, that … I did say sorry at the time. I think. Or maybe I just said I was going to stop doing it. Should I apologise?"

"That's not important right now," Turnus said.

Camilla reached out and took one of Juturna's hands in her own. "Opis told me that … that you spoke of your mother."

Juturna looked away, unable to meet either of their gazes. "I … yeah, I guess I mentioned it."

"That wasn't the only thing you mentioned, was it?" Turnus asked.

"No," Juturna muttered. "No, it wasn't."

"Juturna," Turnus said. "I … what possessed you? A stranger turns up at the door, and you tell him … about our mother, about us? About … about rulership?"

Juturna glanced up at him. "It's what you want, isn't it?" she asked. "You want to rule?"

Turnus did not reply. Silence hung in the bedroom, unbroken by any noise at all. The three sat there, in silence, Turnus and Juturna looking at one another, Camilla sitting to the side.

"That isn't the point," Camilla murmured. "The point is—"

"Yes," Turnus said, and the word fell heavily from his lips. "Yes, I do wish it."

Camilla did not try to speak again. Juturna did not reply. She felt as if her brother was not yet done, she felt that there was more to come, there had to be.

Turnus folded his hands together in front of him, resting his elbows upon the arms of Juturna's chair. "There is no call we do not answer; there is no faith that we betray," he murmured. "Do you know who said that?"

"No," Juturna replied.

"You should do; this is our family history," Turnus reproached her. "It was our great-great-grandfather, Lord Leto, who said that, when the Emperor commanded him to pacify eastern Sanus for Mistral. He was the governor there when the Great War began."

"And in that war, he lost his life," Camilla said.

"So did his son, our great-grandfather, almost," Turnus said. "Our house was nearly destroyed, brought low by the Valish, by the barbarians, and by treachery. And then, after that, Father…" He got to his feet. "Our house has never gained anything from serving Mistral."

"But to rule it," Juturna said softly.

"It will never happen," Turnus declared, turning away from her. "It cannot be done; it would … I could never … and yet, if wishing made it so…" He paused for a moment. "Our house is as noble as the House of Thrax, as long in line of ancestors, as notable for our deeds in war — moreso, even. And this kingdom…"

"What would you do with the throne, if you possessed it?" Camilla asked quietly.

Turnus was silent for a moment. "This kingdom must be reorganised," he said, "upon Atlesian lines. They understand efficiency in the north kingdom, they understand strength, they understand how to make themselves powerful. We are held back by too much deference to tradition and too much power given to vested interests. We must … a part of me thinks that the guilds and the ancient companies must be shattered to free the market of their influence, but — as much as we must free the market so that it may prosper as it does in Atlas — the Guildhall has long served a traditional role in keeping the commercial classes happy, and it would be foolish to jeopardise that. Still, they must be reformed, they cannot be allowed to gatekeep the market any longer; we cannot sacrifice prosperity for stability anymore, we can no longer afford it. We need to grow the economy to fund the defences that Mistral needs: an army larger than that of Atlas, and a great fleet too, to patrol our territories and systematically hunt down the bandits that infest these lands. I would encourage the great houses to raise their own forces, their own companies, their own armies, as they did in ancient times, and to put those sworn swords to use not only for their own glory but also for the good of Mistral, earning renown through good service to the kingdom. The time was when our nobility habitually sought to do such, but this modern world leaves no scope for such things, and so we are reduced to the pursuit of money or else to aggrandising ourselves even at the expense of the rest of Mistral. With all this strength at my command, I would spread the blessings of peace throughout Mistral and hunt down all malcontents. And then…"

"And then?" Juturna asked.

"And then I would cross the straits in arms and take back what should always have been ours," Turnus said. "Eastern Sanus, that was stolen from us after the Great War. The land our ancestor died for." He paused for a moment. "But these are dreams. Just dreams, nothing more. They have no substance; I cannot make them real. I do not dare to try and make them real. Dreams … and yet dangerous, all the same. I talk to you about it, here, to the two of you, in private, but I wouldn't speak of them in front of all my men."

"Seriously?" Juturna asked. "You don't trust them?"

"I trust them with my life," Turnus said. "But this … and you just spilled it out of your mouth to a stranger you had never met before; what were you thinking?"

"He was an Atlesian; what does it matter?"

"He said he was an Atlesian," Camilla pointed out. "He gave no proof of that."

Juturna blinked. "What are you thinking?"

"He could have been a spy," Camilla suggested. "From one of the rival families, maybe even from the Steward himself."

"To do what?" Juturna asked. "To see if you want to rule Mistral; why would he even think that?"

"Why would an Atlesian doctor turn up at the door, speak to you of such things, and then leave without a word?" Camilla asked.

Juturna hesitated. "I … I don't know. Maybe … I don't know. But if someone was out to get you. don't you think that they would have, you know, come and got you by now?"

"Perhaps," Turnus admitted. "Or perhaps now that their suspicions have been confirmed … who can say?"

"I didn't mean…" Juturna began. "I just wanted … I just want you to be happy." She reached out, and took Camilla's hand. "Both of you."

Camilla squeezed the hand that Juturna held. "What makes you think that we are not content?"

Juturna snorted. "Come on. I know you better than that."

"And what I want," Turnus said, as he came to sit down on the bed beside her, on the other side of Camilla, "is for you to be a little more careful and not talk so blithely to strangers. Perhaps he was exactly who he said he was and has now wandered off, never to be heard from again … but he could have aimed to use your words against you, and that…" He trailed off, and instead of speaking, he put his arms around her, one arm around her shoulders, cupping her cheek with his other hand as he pulled her inwards until she was leaning on him. "Dearer to me than all the wealth and honour of our house are you. Do not forget that."

Juturna smiled. "I love you too," she murmured.

And because she loved him, because she loved them both, she yearned to see them happy and all their dreams fulfilled.

If only there was a way.

If only she could see a way in which it might be done.

XxXxX​

Author's Note: No new chapter on Wednesday, the next chapter will be going up on Friday

 

[ScipioSmith]

Butterflies​

Jaune ran.

He was not running particularly fast, moving at a kind of brisk jog, but then he didn't have any occasion to run away from anything either. He was just taking a run around the Beacon campus to…

Well, maybe he couldn't quite have said what he was doing, beyond killing time while Pyrrha got ready. He'd hoped that going for a run would settle his nerves, but he couldn't really say that it had.

At some point, he would have to go back to the dorm room. Pyrrha would be there, looking as gorgeous as ever — more, maybe; her exact words had been 'I need to make an especial effort, after all' — and then they would gather their bags and head down to the train station, and then they would get a train, obviously.

A train to Alba Longa.

A train to his home.

He was going to be bringing Pyrrha to his home.

And today, he wasn't sure if there was anything he wanted less.

It had seemed so easy at the time, such a simple decision to make. Pyrrha wanted to come with him to his home, she wanted to meet his family, and if he was being honest, he wanted the moral support. It had seemed easy, then, to consent to her coming, but now, he wasn't sure if he wanted her to come.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to go himself.

And yet, he couldn't tell her why he didn't want her with him. She was excited for this, and he didn't want to hurt her feelings.

He didn't want to go alone either.

And so, he jogged around the campus, unsure of what to say or what to do, kind of wishing he'd never called his mom or…

Well, no, that wasn't quite true; he was glad that he … it had been the right thing to do, to call her before they set off for Mountain Glenn; agreeing to come home for his Dad's birthday … that had probably been the right thing, too.

Even if it didn't feel like it right now.

And so, Jaune ran, while thoughts whirled faster than his feet around his head and butterflies played in his stomach.

The grounds round which he jogged were pretty much deserted, although as he passed the cliffs, he did see Trixie and Starlight — two of Blake's Atlesian friends — standing, armed, near the cliff edge. They waved to him as he ran past. Aside from that, he was alone. A lot of people had gone home, and those that had not were not around, either sleeping in, or else they'd got up earlier and headed out already. As he approached the farm, he was completely alone with his—

"On your left!"

There was a flash of red, and a trail of rose petals drifting lazily down towards the ground as Jaune felt himself struck on the side by a shockwave like the wake of an onrushing airship. He spun, or else he was spun, the world seeming to spin around him in turn, the thoughts momentarily disappearing from his head, aside from the thought that he was losing his balance.

He hit the ground with a soft thump and a softer groan.

There was a whooshing sound, and more rose petals fell around him as Ruby rushed back to his side.

"Sorry, Jaune," she said sheepishly, a wincing look upon her face, smiling awkwardly out of half her mouth, hands clasped behind her back. "I didn't mean to do that."

Jaune sighed. "It's okay."

Ruby held out one hand to help him up.

Jaune took it and scrambled upright until he was looking down on her once more.

"You know, you don't want to run around too fast," Ruby told him. "You'll work up a sweat, and you'll be all sticky when you get to your folks place."

Jaune let out a little nervous laugh. "I think I'll probably be sweating anyway by the time I get back there. Might as well get some exercise out of it."

Ruby looked up at him. Her silver eyes seemed especially bright today; perhaps it was the way the light was falling on them. "You want to talk about it?"

"I…" Jaune hesitated. "No, it's fine. I don't want to bother you."

He started to turn away, but as he turned, Ruby reached out and took hold of his arm with both hands.

"Good thing you're not bothering me then, isn't it?" Ruby said, a slight smile upon her face.

Jaune looked down at her for a moment, and then he smiled himself. "Thanks," he said.

They walked the rest of the way towards the farm, Ruby still holding on to his arm with both hands, and settled down in front of the chicken coop.

They sat side by side, watching the chickens cluck and peck at the earth and strut up and down. Or rather, Jaune watched, while Ruby looked up at Jaune expectantly. She didn't say anything, she didn't push him, she just… waited.

Jaune clasped his hands together between his knees. "I'm nervous, Ruby."

"I kind of figured," Ruby muttered. "What about?"

Jaune hesitated for a moment. "I have seven sisters, and all but one of them is older than me," he said. "My oldest sister, Rouge, was too old; she was already a teenager by the time I started crawling; she was getting married by the time I started to talk … I was the flower boy at her wedding."

Ruby frowned slightly. "Isn't it supposed to be a flower girl?"

Jaune didn't answer her directly; instead, he went on, "But the rest of my sisters … they were old enough to 'play' with me and not old enough to care what I thought about it. I was their dress-up doll; I was where they experimented with new hairstyles; I did basically whatever they wanted me to do, always. That's just how it was for me growing up."

"You're making me feel pretty grateful to Yang right now," Ruby said softly.

Jaune chuckled. "Maybe you should be," he said. He paused for a moment. "Nobody wanted me to go to Beacon. Not my parents, not my sisters. They said that I wouldn't be able to handle it, that I'd only get myself killed, that I didn't have what it took. That's why I had to forge transcripts to get in, because there was no way I could take the equivalency tests, let alone go to a combat school. So I got the forged transcripts, and I begged a family friend to let me use their computer for the headmaster's interview, and in the end, I snuck out of the house in the middle of the night and stole Crocea Mors from off the wall … and then I broke it." He bowed his head. "What am I supposed to say to them when I get back?"

"Tell them they were wrong," Ruby said, as though it was the simplest thing in the world. "Tell them that you saved my life, that I'd be dead if it wasn't for you, that Sunset would be dead if it wasn't for you. Tell them that you broke the sword defending your partner in battle, doing exactly what a huntsman should do."

She paused for a moment. "Maybe you're not the best fighter on our team, or in our year, but you've got the heart of a huntsman, Jaune, you've proven that over and over again." She grinned. "Maybe tell your family that you'd have the skill of a huntsman too if they'd actually let you train before you got to Beacon."

This time, Jaune's laughter, when it came, possessed a slightly nervous quality to it. "I don't know if I'm that brave."

"You're brave enough to charge Cinder, but not brave enough to tell your parents the truth?" Ruby asked, a slightly teasing note in her voice.

"Cinder could only kill me," Jaune declared. "My family…" He trailed off. "And then there's Pyrrha."

"Shouldn't you be talking to her about some of this stuff?" Ruby asked. "I mean, she is your girlfriend."

"Probably," Jaune admitted. "And it's not that I couldn't just … well, maybe I couldn't talk to her about all of it. When she offered to come with me, I accepted because I wanted her there, and I still do, but … what if they're mean to her, what if they don't like her, what if they … I don't want to take her to my home only to be treated the way that … the way that her mom treated me. It wasn't fun, and I don't want that to happen to her. I don't want her to think that I set this up as some sort of payback—"

"Pyrrha would never think that," Ruby exclaimed. "Pyrrha knows you better than that, Jaune. She knows the way you feel about her. And besides, why wouldn't they like her? Everyone loves Pyrrha."

"Because she's from Beacon? Because she's not from around there?" Jaune suggested. "The truth is — and this is something I definitely can't talk to Pyrrha about — that if they don't not like her, it might be even worse; what if…" He glanced down at Ruby. "What if she finds someone better than me?"

"What?!" Ruby cried. "What are you talking about?"

A frown crinkled Jaune's features. "Ruby, where I come from … men are men, you know? They're farmers, they're shepherds, they tame horses and hunt game." He paused for a moment. "I wanted so badly to be one of them. But I wasn't. I couldn't tame a horse, I couldn't ride a bull, I couldn't track a deer through the forest. One guy gave me a rabbit to kill and skin once, and I … I couldn't do it; I had to let it go."

"I'm glad you did," Ruby said. "Why would you want to kill a poor defenceless bunny?"

"Because it would have made me a man?" Jaune suggested. "I was always stuck with my sisters, or else I hung out with girls like Miranda; and it didn't matter that some of my sisters were as tough as any man in town, it still … it made me a girl to them."

"There's nothing wrong with being a girl," Ruby pointed out.

"I know," Jaune said quickly. "But that doesn't make it any easier to be the outcast, to be told that you have the wrong friends, that you're not doing it right.

"When I was twelve, I was out with my Dad, and we saw this horse, this magnificent horse with a star on its forehead, being taken away towards the train station. No one could tame it, you see, it was completely wild, and since it was no use, it was being sent to the knackers yard. I begged Dad to let me try and ride it, and he told me that if I could, he'd buy me the horse. I could see it all so clearly in my head, how I'd finally win everyone's respect, prove that I wasn't what they thought I was." He hesitated. "It threw me off about ten feet across the market square. And the worst part wasn't the way that everyone laughed at me for weeks — although that wasn't great — but how disappointed Dad looked afterwards. He didn't say anything but … I could tell."

There was a moment of silence between them, a silence broken only by the clucking of the chickens as they greedily gobbled up the feed spread out before them.

"I think," he admitted, "I think that part of the reason why I wanted to come to Beacon so badly was that I wanted to prove that I could do this thing that my Dad and my grandfather had done, that Arc men do, even if I couldn't do anything else. And I know that's why I didn't want Pyrrha's help at first, because … it would feel like nothing had changed, that I was still doing it wrong." He gave a chuckle laced with bitterness. "Stupid, huh?"

"I'm sorry, Jaune," Ruby said, placing a hand upon his elbow. "That doesn't sound great, having to grow up like that, but … I don't see what this has to do with Pyrrha."

"Isn't it obvious?" Jaune asked. "What if we get back to my place and—?"

"Your sisters show her embarrassing photos of you?"

"No! Oh God, I hadn't even thought about that," Jaune groaned.

"Sorry."

"I meant," Jaune said, "What if we get there, and Pyrrha finds herself a real man, with muscles like tree trunks and legs like stone and a jaw you could cast iron on? The kind of man that I could never be."

Again, a silence fell between them. Jaune looked away. He could see it in his mind's eye as clearly as he could see the chickens and their coop in front of him: Pyrrha, hanging on one of the enormous arms of Red Beauregard or Duck Robertson, walking away, her red sash trailing after her, leaving him behind.

The silence was shattered by Ruby sniggering, covering her mouth as she tried to hold back the giggles.

"Hey!" Jaune cried. "Ruby, I'm serious!"

"I know," Ruby said, in between chuckles. "That's what makes it so funny!" She took a deep breath, and then another, seeming to calm down a little. "Come on, Jaune, do you really not know Pyrrha at all?"

"I know I don't deserve her," Jaune said. "And Sunset says that deserving doesn't matter when it comes to love, but—"

"Sunset's wrong!" Ruby cried, shooting to her feet. "I mean, okay, she's actually right about this, which is kind of funny, considering how often she's wrong about stuff, but the point is … the point is that you're amazing, and you absolutely deserve Pyrrha. You're brave and smart and sweet and kind, and if your family and everyone in your stupid village can't see that, then they're just idiots, and they're the ones who don't deserve you!" Ruby's hands were balled into fists, and she held them up in front of her face as though she wanted to hit someone.

"Ruby—" Jaune began.

"But at the same time," Ruby went on loudly, cutting him off, "you are also a really huge idiot! Don't you think that if Pyrrha wanted some big guy, some manly guy, she'd be dating Cardin instead of you? Actually, no, forget Cardin; look at this."

She got out her scroll, and Jaune watched for a moment as she flicked through it, swiping her forefinger across the screen, until she showed him a photograph of an imposing looking man, tall and broad-shouldered and muscular, with long dark hair ending in red tips like embers burning amidst coal.

Jaune's eyes widened a little bit. "Who's that?"

"That's Juturna's brother," Ruby explained.

Jaune blinked. "You mean the—"

"The one Pyrrha's mom wanted her to marry, yeah," Ruby agreed. "But she chose you instead. Because she doesn't want a tough guy any more than she wants a rich guy. She wants a good guy, and there's no better guy than you."

Jaune hesitated for a moment "You think so?"

Ruby grinned. "I know so."

A sigh of relief emerged from out of Jaune's mouth. He allowed himself a slight smile in turn. "Thanks, Ruby. I guess that last part does sound kind of stupid, doesn't it?"

"A little bit, yeah," Ruby agreed.

"I just … I love her so much, you know?"

"Yeah," Ruby said, nodding, "I know."

"And I guess I can't stop thinking, worrying, that one day, she'll wake up and realise that she could do so much better than me."

"You should talk to her about this," Ruby suggested. "She might laugh at some of it — and you deserve it — but I think she'll also be able to tell you that you've got nothing to worry about."

"You're right," Jaune said. "Thanks, Ruby."

"What are friends for, right?"

"Right," Jaune agreed. "So what are you doing out here?"

"Huh?"

"Before you started listening to all my problems," Jaune prompted. "What brought you out here in the first place?"

Ruby looked down at her booted feet, clasping her hands together in front of her. "It doesn't matter," she murmured.

Jaune held out one hand to her. "What are friends for?"

Ruby hesitated, then, gently, slowly, she placed her small hand in the palm of his and let him pull her back onto the bench.

She leaned on him, resting her head upon his shoulder. "I guess … I'm a little worried too."

Jaune looked at her, as best he could with her leaning against him the way she was. "Worried about what?"

"Professor Ozpin wants to talk to me today," Ruby explained. "He's going to tell me about Mom, just like he promised he would before we went to Mountain Glenn."

"That sounds great," Jaune declared. "I mean, isn't that what you wanted?"

"It was," Ruby said. "It is. I want to know everything about her, what she was like and what she did and … and everything. But … I'm a bit worried that…" She trailed off.

Jaune didn't say anything. He knew that there was more to come; he knew that more would come; he just had to let it, patiently.

And so, he waited, letting Ruby lean on him, taking her time.

He waited, and eventually, she said, "Dad never talks about her. About Mom. I guess it hurts too much. Uncle Qrow never said much either. The only person who would talk to me about Mom was Yang. When I was a kid, she used to tell me all these stories about the adventures Mom had, the monsters she defeated, the people she saved, how much of a hero she was. I think … I'm pretty sure Yang made most of those stories up, maybe all of them. But they were really wonderful stories, and—"

"And you're afraid the reality won't live up to them?" Jaune guessed.

"I guess … I guess so," Ruby murmured.

Jaune put his arm around Ruby squeezing her shoulder with one hand. "I get it. Well, I don't get it, but I can imagine. But at the same time, I don't think you have anything to worry about."

"No?" Ruby asked. "Why not?"

"Because she was your mom," Jaune told her. "And I'm sure she must have been pretty darn special to have a daughter as amazing as you."

Ruby giggled and burrowed a little closer into his side. "Thanks, Jaune."

"And seriously," Jaune added, "from what you've told us about your mom's diary, about the things she did … she sounds like she was plenty amazing, even by the time she was our age. I don't think you have anything to worry about, in terms of living up to your expectations."

Ruby was silent for a moment. "Now I'm the one who feels stupid."

"No, I'm pretty sure that's still me," Jaune assured her. "I should probably get back now. I don't want to keep Pyrrha waiting, once she's ready."

XxXxX​

"How do I look?" Pyrrha asked, anxiety making her sound slightly breathless to Sunset's ears.

Sunset leaned back on her chair, pushing off the wall until it was balancing upon its rear legs. Her eyebrows rose appreciatively. "You look … stunning," she said.

Pyrrha sighed with relief. "Thank you, Sunset, that … that's very good to hear."

Pyrrha was dressed in a gown of green and black. The black was on the bodice, which had a v-shaped neckline and short sleeves stopping only a little below the shoulders, leaving her arms bare to the world, although Pyrrha still wore her golden armband on her right arm. The skirt, meanwhile, was an emerald green that matched her eyes, full and floor length, almost a gown, concealing her feet from view and spreading out around her. Green too was the short cape she wore wrapped around her shoulders, covering her neck and some of her chest but only reaching down just below her waist behind her. A belt of gold clinched tightly around her waist, while matching golden bracers, long and etched with swirling patterns, bound about her wrists and forearms. Her hair was worn in its habitual ponytail, her circlet golden 'bout her brow, covered up slightly by her bangs, with the golden chains and their teal drops descending upon either side. The absence of her usual gloves revealed that Pyrrha had painted her fingernails as golden as her circlet for the occasion.

"Was there ever really a doubt?" Sunset asked. She let her chair rock back onto four legs before she stood up. "Twirl for me; let me see the whole thing."

Pyrrha smiled a little as she spun on her toe, skirt and cape alike swirling around her like water in a whirling current. Her ponytail flew out behind her, almost hitting Sunset in the face, and Sunset could not help but be amused at the way that Pyrrha seemed to instinctively throw out her arms gracefully on either side of her.

"I repeat," Sunset said, "was there ever a doubt?"

Pyrrha stopped twirling, coming to a stop facing Sunset once more. "You do like it then?"

Sunset nodded. "I do," she confirmed, smiling fondly at Pyrrha's anxiousness.

Pyrrha nodded. "And you think it will do?"

"'Will do'?" Sunset repeated. "Well, I mean…"

Pyrrha frowned beneath her circlet. "What's the matter?"

Sunset shrugged. "Do you think it might be a bit much?"

Pyrrha's face fell. "Do you think it's too much?"

"It doesn't matter what I think, does it?" Sunset asked. "But you've seen how Jaune dresses."

"That's rather unfair, Sunset," Pyrrha said reproachfully.

"Is it?" Sunset asked. "Is it really? He wears a breakfast cereal hoodie."

"How would you like it if someone were to look at you in that leather jacket and judge you incapable of dressing up?" Pyrrha responded.

"A good point, well made," Sunset acknowledged.

Pyrrha reached out and gripped the edge of her cape with one hand. "It's his family," she said. "Jaune is taking me to meet his family, and for his father's birthday celebrations. Do you know what that means?" A flush of colour rose to her cheeks as she answered her own question, glancing away from Sunset as she murmured, "It means that he could imagine making me a part of his family one day."

Sunset said nothing; she just smiled at her, the peerless warrior who now blushed so shyly and spoke so softly.

Pyrrha looked back up at Sunset. "That's not something I take lightly," she declared. "And I won't have Jaune think that I take it lightly either."

"I never suggested that you should," Sunset said quietly as she drifted across the dorm room to where Pyrrha's case sat upon Pyrrha's bed. One of Pyrrha's cases anyway; Miló, Akoúo̱, and all her armour were in a separate case on the floor; Pyrrha was taking them just in case they were needed.

Her main case, the one on the bed, was large and hard — it had a solid, plastic surface — and beige in colour, with four wheels on the bottom and a black handle on a metal pole sticking out the top.

It was also full of dresses.

Sunset folded her arms. "So how many balls are you planning on attending at Jaune's home in the sticks? I mean, I know I'm following you out there to research Jaune's heritage, but I'm not expecting to find any actual noblemen."

Pyrrha let out a little nervous titter. "I'm not really a t-shirt and jeans kind of girl," she said apologetically. "I don't want to pretend to someone I'm not. I want to be myself, but my very best self, in as much as I possess a self. And besides I … I want to make the best possible impression on Jaune's family." Her chest rose and fell as she took a deep breath. "If they don't like me, then I … I don't want to force Jaune to choose between me or his family."

"You did," Sunset pointed out.

"Yes, and it was … easier than it should have been to choose, but that is no reason for me to seek to put Jaune through the same thing." Pyrrha looked at Sunset. "I want them to approve of me, to find me a … a suitable match for their son. Is that so wrong?"

"If I search this room, am I going to find a notebook with 'Mrs. Pyrrha Arc' written over and over again in beautiful cursive handwriting?" Sunset asked.

Pyrrha chuckled. "No," she said. "Not least because Jaune will probably have to take my name since I'm the—"

"Sole heir to the noble House of Nikos, of course," Sunset murmured.

"But," Pyrrha continued, "that aside … would you judge me terribly if you did find such a thing?"

Sunset grinned. "I might mock you for it, but fondly, always fondly. If I were too inclined to judgement, I would have to judge you for the fact that you said 'Jaune will' take your name, not 'Jaune might' or 'Jaune would.'"

"Yes, I … I suppose I did," Pyrrha admitted, covering her mouth with one hand as a little laugh escaped.

"I love him," she whispered, as though it were a great secret she were confessing and not the most obvious thing in all of Remnant. "And he … he finds me fit to meet his parents."

The smile faded from Pyrrha's face as she turned away from Sunset, her skirt flowing around her.

"Sunset," she said, "how old do you think Ruby's mother was when she died?"

Sunset frowned. "I … I don't know."

"Neither do I," Pyrrha said. "But I … have gotten the impression that she died young."

"You're not going to die," Sunset declared.

"We are on a perilous road, Sunset, the same road that Team Stark walked before us," Pyrrha said. "Their letters below ours are a reminder that they too faced perils greater than those endured by other huntsmen and huntresses … and of the fate that awaited them at the end of that road."

"You will not die," Sunset insisted.

"We will all die one day, Sunset."

"Not yet, not in battle, not so young."

"You cannot guarantee that," Pyrrha said, whirling to face her. "Is it so wrong that, knowing what may be demanded of me, knowing that I may not live to see our graduation that I should seek to… to take Jaune by the hand and say to all the world that he is mine and I am his?"

Sunset was silent for a moment. "I … I do not like the tenor of your thoughts," she muttered. "And would you would not conjure up such gloomy, melancholy thoughts like dark clouds marring your gay apparel." She ran one hand through her fiery hair. "But, since you do so … your logic cannot be doubted, strange though it may be to me. We ponies … we do not feel time or fate breathe so upon our necks. Have you spoken to Jaune about this?"

"No," Pyrrha said softly. "No, I have not."

"Don't you think you should, or he'll be very surprised when he gets to the registrar's?" Sunset said. "In all seriousness, he may not have thought this through as you have."

"No," Pyrrha agreed. "But … there is time yet."

"Not what you said a moment ago."

"I haven't met his parents yet, received their approval and, I hope, their blessing," Pyrrha pointed out. "I couldn't possibly broach the subject until then. It would be highly, improperly presumptuous of me, not to mention disrespectful." She sighed. "What am I going to do if they don't like me, Sunset?"

"Then," Sunset found that she could not restrain a laugh. "Then fetch the rarest flower from the highest mountain and bring it to their door. Then vanquish every rival suitor in single combat. Then fetch them monsters of such size and strength that they quail and beg you take them away again. Do the labours if you must. You are a hero sprung out of the tales of old, if any are, the evenstar of an age gone by? Then prove yourself. Do what you have to do and don't take no for an answer."

Pyrrha chuckled. "Not quite the answer I expected, although from you, I probably should have."

"Is there anything you would not do for love?" Sunset asked.

"Nothing wicked," Pyrrha replied. "But that aside … all courses are open to me."

Sunset's smile faltered momentarily, and she felt almost relieved to hear the knock on the door.

"Pyrrha?" Jaune called from the other side. "Can I come in?"

Pyrrha started for the door, but Sunset held up a hand to stay her where she was.

"Talk to him," Sunset urged in a whisper as she walked towards the door in Pyrrha's place.

"I will," Pyrrha promised quietly.

Sunset opened the door, gesturing with one hand for Jaune to enter. "Good morning, sir," she said in a tone that was dry and yet at the same time affected stuffy.

Jaune walked in, Ruby following close behind. Both of them gave Sunset a funny glance as though they didn't understand the bit.

But when Jaune turned his gaze on Pyrrha, he stopped in his tracks.

He stared at her, his mouth forming an O from which only a single sound emerged. "Wow."

Once more, Pyrrha reached for the hem of her cape with one hand, even as she placed her hand upon her heart, her fingertips resting gently upon her skin. "It's not too much, then?"


"I don't care if it is," Jaune said, closing the distance between them. "You look beautiful."

Pyrrha smiled but bowed her head, turning her eyes demurely downwards and away from him.

Jaune reached up and touched her chin gently with his fingertips, tilting upwards so that their eyes met once again.

He cupped her cheek with his hand. Pyrrha smiled and closed her eyes and leaned into his palm as though she were trying to melt into it.


Her right hand rose, and she placed it atop his hand, holding it there that he might not withdraw it yet.

"Aww," Ruby cooed quietly from the back of the room.

Sunset watched them. There was no way Jaune's parents were going to dislike Pyrrha. Those two … just look at them. They had nothing to worry about.

She could practically hear the violins playing.

Jaune was the one who appeared to remember they were being watched first. His face went as red as Pyrrha's hair as he pulled his hand away.

"I— uh, I mean we should probably … we don't want to miss our train after all!" he yelped.

Pyrrha looked far less embarrassed about the whole thing. In fact, she didn't look embarrassed at all. In fact, judging by the way she brushed her fingertips against her own cheek where Jaune's hand had been, she mostly looked disappointed that it hadn't gone on longer.

Nevertheless, she said, "Yes, yes, I suppose we should be going. If there is a problem with the airship, we might…" She trailed off, absently closing and fastening up her case.

"I'll help you with that," Sunset said, levitating the suitcase off the bed. "You want to come see them off, Ruby?"

"Sure," Ruby said.

So they all headed down to the landing pads together, helping Jaune and Pyrrha with their luggage, and took one of the Skybuses down into Vale. From there, it was a walk through the streets to Gateway Station, with the wheels of Pyrrha's case rattling and rumbling a little as they dragged it behind them.

Gateway Station, the principal station for trains running north out of Vale, was an antique building, built out of old-fashioned red brick, with a great glass dome forming the ceiling. There was a statue of Professor Ozpin outside, celebrating none of his achievements as a huntsman or a headmaster but rather the fact that he had campaigned to save the historic dome from demolition some years ago. Said glass dome made the inside of the station rather hot, even as the days of summer waned, or at least, that was how it felt to Sunset as the sun beat down on them through the glass.

The trains here were about as old-fashioned as the glass dome: instead of electronic doors, they had manual locks that only opened from the outside, so that if you wanted to open them from the inside, you had to stick your hand out the window. The kind of trains you saw in old movies, or in Equestria.

Nevertheless, this was the kind of train that Jaune and Pyrrha were stuck with, and so, Sunset and Ruby watched them climb aboard, luggage and all, with all of the good wishes of their teammates accompanying them.

And then they stood on the platform and watched as the train huffed away, rattling and clanking as it went.

"I hope they're okay," Ruby said.

"Why wouldn't they be?" Sunset asked. "Is everything okay with Jaune?"

"Yeah," Ruby assured her. "Pretty much."

Sunset raised an eyebrow at that, but it was a little late now, and so she said, "What about you? How are you feeling?"

"Better," Ruby said. "Definitely better. I'm looking forward to it. I'm finally going to get the answers I've wanted, all of them."

Sunset nodded. "Hey, Ruby … you want to hang out after? My treat, your choice. It feels like…" Sunset stopped short of saying it felt like the least she could do.

Ruby looked up at her. "Really?"

"Yeah, really. Once you're done with Professor Ozpin and I'm done with Blake and Penny."

"I'd like that," Ruby said.

"Awesome," Sunset said. "Where do you want to go, any ideas?"

"Well, if you're paying…"

"Hang on, hang on; I'm not made of lien."

XxXxX​

The train carriage looked a little worse for wear, not too surprising considering its apparent age. The seat cushions looked worn out, or going that way. They did not look particularly comfortable, nor — as Pyrrha sat down in the window seat, smoothing her cape out before she sat down and smoothing her skirt out after — did it feel particularly comfortable either. Still, it was undoubtedly better than standing all the way to Jaune's home.

Jaune sat down in the aisle seat beside her. He looked a little pale, and Pyrrha wondered whether he was suffering from motion sickness again.

Except the train hadn't started moving yet.

As Pyrrha thought that, the train lurched into motion, moving off from the platform with a thud and a shudder and a rumble. The whole carriage vibrated, and the rattle of the wheels upon the track was audible as the train rolled northwards out of the station.

"Jaune?" Pyrrha asked, placing a hand on his arm. "Is everything alright? Are you feeling ill?"

"No," Jaune said at once. "No, I…" He looked at her. "Are you wearing perfume?"

She was, as it happened; she was wearing the new scent from Imperial Fragrance. It wasn't something that she would have normally worn — some might have said that using scented shampoo was bad enough — but given the circumstances, she hadn't seen any harm in it.

No harm and possibly something to gain.

It was funny; she'd hoped that he would notice, but now that he had noticed, she wasn't sure what to say.

"Uh, yes," Pyrrha said. "Just something I thought I'd try out." She did not ask if he liked it, even as she rather badly wanted to know.

Jaune sniffed. "Jasmine?"

"That's one of the scents I think, yes," Pyrrha murmured.

Jaune smiled. "It smells good on you; it goes with the smell of your hair."

"That's good to know!" Pyrrha said. It was especially good to know, because she'd chosen it very deliberately to complement her hair scent.

He liked it. That was good, that was wonderful, but Pyrrha wasn't sure how or if she ought to say so, especially since it looked as though Jaune had things on his mind.

For that matter, Pyrrha had things on her mind too, like the question of how she would be received amongst Jaune's family.

"I have something to tell you," Jaune and Pyrrha both said to one another simultaneously.

Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand as she giggled. "Please, you first."

"No, ladies first," Jaune replied. "I insist."

Pyrrha half felt that, as the gentleman, he should have gone first and spared her the awkwardness, but nevertheless, she said, "I … I'm overjoyed that you want me to come with you on this family visit, really, I am. But at the same time … I'm a little nervous."

Jaune twisted round in his seat so that he was more facing her. "Nervous about what?"

"Nervous about … about meeting your family," Pyrha admitted. "About what happens if … if they don't like me. If they don't approve of me."

Pyrrha had to admit, if only to herself, that the silence with which Jaune received her pronouncement was not very encouraging.

"That … that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about," Jaune confessed. "I can't … I don't know how they'll react, how they'll … I can't guarantee that they'll treat you the way that you deserve to be treated. People back home … they don't all like outsiders."

It was not the reassurance that she might have hoped for, but at least he had been honest with her instead of insisting that everything would be fine right up until it wasn't. She could prepare herself now, instead of expecting smiles right up until she was met with knives.

Of course, it did lend far more weight to her other concern, that Jaune might be forced to choose between his family and her.

"I … I see," she said softly. "Jaune … if it comes down to it than I—"

"My choice is you," Jaune said.

Pyrrha's eyes widened. "Jaune?"

"If I have to choose, if they make me choose, my choice will be you," Jaune declared. "How can I do anything else, when you've always believed in me and been there for me instead of…?"

"Jaune," Pyrrha whispered, and in her tone was mingled with the immense joy that she felt at him saying this to her and the immense sadness she felt that it might be necessary. "You don't have to … this is your family."

"Yes," Jaune agreed. "My family, and so, my choice."

Pyrrha nodded. "Of course. You've thought about this?"

"A little," Jaune confessed. "Although, to be honest, I was more worried that you'd leave me for one of the better-looking guys back home." He grinned sheepishly.

Pyrrha suspected that he had made that up in order to lighten the mood, but she appreciated the effort and laughed anyway.

"Jaune!" She cried. "That is the most ridiculous thing…" She slipped her hand through his arm, then took his hand, intertwining her fingers with his own. "You don't … you will never have to … it is you, you now and always, I am suited in love and life. Though Mistral and the good fight will always have a claim upon my body, my heart and soul belong to you now." She squeezed his hand. "And if your parents don't like me or think that I'm not good enough for you, well, then I'll just have to prove them wrong! I'll do whatever it takes, because I am … because I'm with you, and you're with me, and whatever is waiting for us, we'll face it together."

Jaune put his other hand over hers.

"We'll face it together," he agreed, "and we'll beat it together."

And the train bore them inexorably onwards.

XxXxX
​

Author's Note: Two pictures in one chapter! Don't expect this too often, but I must confess that one of the things about this coming arc that appeals to me is the opportunity it affords for pictures of Pyrrha in pretty dresses.

The first picture, of Pyrrha and Jaune together, is by Artsbysmarty


The second picture, of Pyrrha having her face stroked, is by Schrwby

 

[ScipioSmith]

Alba Longa​

In Mistral, they had a saying: the city teaches the man.

It was a saying that was somewhat on Pyrrha's mind as she and Jaune rode the antiquated train down the tracks to Jaune's hometown.

Judging by the failure to invest in the railway line, and by the fact that there were less than a half-dozen people in the carriage besides themselves, Pyrrha thought it was fair to say that this area wasn't hugely popular with visitors.

Jaune glanced past her out the window. Perhaps he was looking for signs of the countryside that he recognised, signs that they were drawing near to their destination. His eyes, his beautiful blue eyes, found her face for a moment, but then looked away.

And then he turned his entire head away, depriving Pyrrha of the sight of his eyes, and leaned forward to rest his forehead upon the back of the seat in front of them.

Pyrrha reached out, and the golden bracelet on her wrist glimmered in the light coming through the somewhat grubby window.

"Jaune," she murmured.

"I'm fine," Jaune said softly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure, I just…" Jaune trailed off. "Okay, maybe I'm not fine, but … it's not something that you can help with, more than you already have. More than you already are, just by being here."

Pyrrha left her hand in place upon his shoulder, but nodded and whispered, "Alright." She let him be other than the lingering presence of her hand.

He was right, after all; there wasn't anything more that she could do for him right now. He had confessed to her at least some of what was bothering him, and if and when the time came to confront those things, then she would support him with everything she had, but until that happened … she did not have Sunset's semblance, to fight Jaune's inner battle for him.

She wasn't certain that Jaune would wish her to do so.

Her mind went back to that saying: the city teaches the man. Or the town or village, as the case may be. Jaune hadn't even given her so much in the way of details to work out exactly how large the place he hailed from was. But it had made him, just as Mistral had made her, and that made Pyrrha curious.

What sort of place had produced Jaune Arc, the boy who was so tormented by insecurity but who had also not hesitated to hurl himself on Cinder to try and protect her? The boy who would have been one of the great warriors in the world if only he could have fought with the strength of his heart, but who unfortunately was condemned to try and fight with his somewhat less overwhelming skill at arms? The man who had arrived at Beacon possessing so much aura yet been so completely ignorant of aura at a time when most of his peers were already mastering their semblances?

What sort of place had produced these contradictions? What sort of home had taught him so many lessons that had stood him in such good stead at Beacon, yet had failed to teach him so many of the basics that he needed to survive there, and that without mentioning the lessons that he had needed to unlearn at Beacon?

They had all arrived at Beacon as products of their environment: Ruby's effortless kindness and truly fearless — not always in a positive sense — courage; Sunset's bitter, prickly self-regard; Pyrrha's courtesy and loneliness combined; you could look at her and at her teammates and if you knew their stories, then you could see how they had been written to that point, to be who they had been when first they had begun to walk those hallowed halls at which point they had all, slowly, began to become something else in addition to what they had been before. But what environment had produced Jaune Arc?

He had given her some of the answers already by confessing to her some of his concerns: a place distrustful of outsiders, a place that might not welcome her; parents who had not believed in him, who had, if they had not been actively cruel, had not nurtured him as he deserved and might have wished.

Pyrrha wondered if, in that, he was more unfortunate than her. Yes, her own mother had pruned and gardened at her dreams, directing her towards the field that was most suitable for a daughter of the House of Nikos and of most interest to her mother as a former tournament fighter; yes, her mother had pushed her relentlessly to success and excellence in that field. But she had never told Pyrrha to just give up, never told her that she would never be worth anything, that her dreams were hopeless and her destiny would be forever beyond her reach.

There was only one member of Team SAPR who held Lady Nikos in fond regard, and that was not Pyrrha, but nevertheless, she could not help but feel that she had been more fortunate in her parent than Jaune had in his. At least she hadn't had to sneak away in the dead of night without any idea what she was doing.

It occurred to Pyrrha that, if it hadn't been for her, Jaune would have died during Initiation.

He would have … her mind recoiled from even trying to consider what would have become of Jaune.

She reflexively tightened her grip upon his shoulder, making Jaune wince in pain.

"I'm sorry!" she cried, pulling her hand away as though he had burned her.

Jaune looked at her. "It's okay," he said, his tone light. "I mean, is everything okay?"

"I … I was just…" Pyrrha hesitated. 'I was thinking about how I saved your life' seemed unbelievably arrogant. 'I was just thinking about how you almost died' sounded rather gloomy, at a time when Jaune seemed gloomy enough. 'I was just thinking about how unprepared you were to go to Beacon' was just cruel. "I was just thinking about Initiation," she murmured.

It sounded weak and feeble, even to her ears.

"Yeah," Jaune said softly. "Yeah, I … Initiation. Huh." He glanced down, then looked back up at her. "Yeah, I got lucky there, didn't I?"

Pyrrha said nothing. She didn't know what to say. She had no idea how she ought to reply to him.

Fortunately, Jaune continued, "Ruby told me that if my Dad had bothered to teach me anything, then I would have been better prepared. I mean, that's obvious, but I would have been able to stand, maybe not as your equal, but more than I am."

"Ruby is wise, sometimes," Pyrrha murmured, while at the same time, she couldn't quite restrain herself from thinking that she could have told him that if he had asked her.

"But…" Jaune trailed off, a chuckle falling from his lips.

"What is it?" Pyrrha asked.

"Nothing," Jaune replied. "I mean … I was thinking that maybe, if I had been trained, and if I had been prepared then … then you wouldn't have had to save my life, and who knows what would have been different? Maybe we wouldn't have ended up together. I guess, what I'm trying to say is that maybe—"

"It all happened for a reason?" Pyrrha suggested.

Jaune smiled, his eyes brightening as he did so. "Maybe. Or maybe not. It sounds kind of stupid, now that I say it out loud."

I don't think that it's stupid at all, Pyrrha thought. "I wouldn't be so sure," she said, taking his hand. "I mean, what with an eager boy and a tournament champion teaming up like this … it is almost enough to make you believe in fate, don't you think?"

Jaune flashed his teeth at her, as bright as the sun outside. "Huh. I'd never thought of it quite like that, but now that you mention it … I suppose it is." He reached out and took her hand in his.

Pyrrha smiled at him. "So, is this the way you came to Beacon? On the train, I mean?"

Jaune nodded. "Part of the way. There's a late night train; it's supposed to be disembarking only, but nobody stops you from getting on if you want to. I took that part of the way, and then boarded the skyliner with all the other students from outside of the city, like Ruby." He tried to smile, but ended up grimacing. "I wasn't in the best shape even before I got on the airship."

Pyrrha nodded. "You're doing great."

"I don't feel as bad as I thought I would, as I was afraid I would," Jaune said. "Maybe … maybe it's because I'm not alone. Maybe it's taking the edge off."

"Happy to help," Pyrrha said.

"I appreciate it," Jaune said. "Hey, Pyrrha?"

"Yes?"

"Would you like me to show you around just a little bit, before we head to my place?" he asked. "There's not a lot to see, but…"

He was stalling. She knew that, and he probably knew that she knew that, but if he didn't want to go home right away, she wasn't going to force him, and she had just been wondering what the place that had reared Jaune Arc was like, so Pyrrha said, "That sounds wonderful. I'd like to see a little of your home before we get to, well, your home."

Jaune nodded sharply. "Thanks. For coming."

Pyrrha squeezed his hand. "It'll be alright."

"The train is now approaching Alba Longa," the voice over the intercom announced. "If you're leaving us here, please ensure that you have all your belongings with you."

Pyrrha glanced out of the window. The countryside continued to roll past them uninterrupted. It was pleasant countryside to look upon — the grey mountains that shielded Vale's eastern flank from the most dangerous of the grimm loomed large and jagged in the distance, while closer to the train tracks, verdant forests, a mixture of conifers and deciduous trees whose leaves had not yet begun to turn to gold, covered the world; red squirrels danced between the branches of the trees, badgers watched the train pass by, and Pyrrha could have sworn that she had even seen a stag watching from out of the cover of the trees — but considering that they were imminently approaching the stop, Pyrrha would have expected to have seen more sign of human habitation by this point.

And then the forest cleared out, the trees cut down and all evidence of them cleared to make way for a vast expanse of farmland, a sea of fields from which sprouted wheat as tall as Jaune or maybe a little taller, swaying back and forth in the wind as it stretched onwards towards the mountains. Pyrrha could see a farmhouse, mostly by the smoke rising out of its chimney, surrounded by such fields of tall wheat, and as the train rattled and belched its way down the track, sounding ever more sickly as it began to slow down, so Pyrrha could see other fields filled with wheat, maize, corn, and grain.

A farming town. I suppose that does explain why Jaune does well in plant science.

Jaune rose unsteadily to his feet, holding on to the seats behind theirs as he began to make his way towards the doors.

"Jaune," Pyrrha called as she too got to her feet. She indicated his bag, containing amongst other things the broken fragments of Crocea Mors, in the overhead space above their seats. "Don't forget your belongings," she said, with a slight smile.

Jaune smiled back, sheepish and embarrassed, and reached up — almost toppling over as he reached for it — to pull his large and well-stuffed holdall down and sling it over his shoulder.

Pyrrha's cases were too large to have been stored in the overhead space, and so, adjusting her cape so that it fell evenly off both her shoulders, she walked to the end of the carriage and pulled both cases out of the baggage rack where she had placed them.

They went out into the little space before the doors, waiting for the train to stop so they could disembark. Outside the door, through the open window that let a breeze into the train and made her ponytail dance behind her, Pyrrha could see that a few orchards — apples, peaches, and plums — interspersed the cereal fields, along with fields that bore neither wheat or grain but seemed to be growing strawberries and gooseberries. Sheep and cattle grazed here and there, while horses ambled about in wide enclosures.

The train came to a stop, and Jaune fumblingly opened the old-fashioned door before stepping down from the train and onto a narrow platform. His face was pale; being back on solid ground had clearly not abated all the nervousness that he was feeling about being back here.

The platform on which they had alighted was not quite large enough for the entire train, and the drop from the rearmost carriage to the ground looked too considerable to be attempted without aura, which might explain the reason why nobody was attempting it. The station itself was modest — with only a single building of red brick on the platform on which Jaune and Pyrrha stood and a narrow, wrought-iron bridge across to the other platform — but not without a certain charm: flower beds awash with all the colours of the rainbow decorated both platforms, and in one wooden bed, violets had been arranged in such a way as to spell out the words 'Welcome to Alba Longa' against the otherwise bare soil around them. A public house sat not far away, and Pyrrha could see some older gentlemen sitting at the tables outside, grey-bearded and pot-bellied, wearing flat caps and dark greatcoats. Some of them were smoking pipes, others were playing chequers, nearly all of them had a drink to hand.

There were other buildings she could see as well, houses she supposed, but not as many of them as she had expected and not so closely packed as well. Every house appeared to have a garden, although none of those gardens seemed to have much to stop the sheep and the goats from wandering in and out and between the houses wither they would, eating as they went.

"Home sweet home," Jaune murmured as he took his bag out of Pyrrha's unprotesting hands and slung it over his shoulder. He didn't look particularly thrilled to be back.

It wasn't what Pyrrha had expected, but that by no means made it bad. "So," Pyrrha said, "where does my tour begin?"

If there was one word to describe Alba Longa, it would probably be 'bucolic'; in all honesty, Pyrrha had not expected that such rural, rustic places existed in Vale; she knew that Mistral was full of villages — although none of those that she had visited as part of those publicity tours had ever seemed quite as chaotic as Jaune's home — covering the length and breadth of its vast territory, but she had always thought of Vale as a place of cities, a kind of second-rate Atlas if that wasn't too insulting a way of thinking about it — it probably was, in all honesty — but now that she thought about it some more, now that she was confronted with the actual fact of a rural Valish village, she found it so obvious that she didn't know why she hadn't thought about it before. Of course they had such places. Everywhere had such places.

Although probably, they were not as disorganised as this place. Some of the fields were fenced off, others sprawled out unmoored and unbordered while children with their arms full of stolen vegetables darted into and out of the tall wheat as irate farmers cursed their names; cattle lowed in the town square, the fat and contented-looking creatures shuffling around an equestrian statue worked in bronze of a hero with a sword very similar to Crocea Mors raised to the sky in one hand — Pyrrha considered asking Jaune if it was his ancestor, but decided after a moment's thought that the reminder might just make him even more nervous than he already was and that it would probably be for the best not to burden him any further; sprawling mansions that seemed to have risen, higgledy-piggledy, over many generations sat side by side with rough wooden shacks.

And yet, for all its rustic chaos, there was a charm and beauty here as well. The town sat hard by a lake that glimmered under the light of the sun, and houses raised on wooden poles sat out in the water itself, while piscine faunus swam between them. The apples that grew on the trees were large and red and juicy, the peaches were swollen and ripe, even the lemons and limes growing in the gardens of the large estates looked inviting. The grass was, for the most part, ill-kept, thanks to the grazing animals, but there were a few white picket fences enfolding gardens with well-tended lawns, and Pyrrha could see the gardeners at work there — in particular, towards the south end of town there was a golf course and a bowling green that looked particularly well-maintained, backing on to a large building that might be the only stone structure in the entire community.

With the sun high in the sky and the breeze cool on her cheeks, the place had a soft, inviting atmosphere to it which made her feel quite comfortable here.

There were only a few shops, all of them clustered together down the same stretch of street — as much as Alba Longa had streets; they were not paved and were little more than dirt — a greengrocer advertising all local produce, a butcher's where a man with a straw hat and a striped apron gave Jaune a cheery wave as they walked by, a small bookshop with some comic books displayed in the window.

One thing that Pyrrha noticed after a while was that people were giving her — giving both of them, but her more than Jaune, possibly because they recognised him even after he had been away for some time — strange looks. Pyrrha was used to having the eyes of the world follow her wherever she went, but these gazes that she was getting now from the farmers and the field hands, from the herdsmen, from the idlers outside the inn, and from those sitting on their porches in their rocking chairs, were different from the looks that she normally got. These were not the looks of people awed by being in the presence of a celebrity; rather, they were the looks of people who weren't sure if she was altogether to be trusted or not.

"Is everything alright?" she murmured. "Am I doing something wrong?"

"No," Jaune said quickly. "It's just … I probably should have thought about this, but what with Miranda coming home after the Breach, it's probably a safe bet that everyone knows where I went."

Pyrrha frowned a little. "So they know you went to Beacon? I don't understand; is that a problem for the whole town, not just your family?"

"I…" Jaune began, but trailed off quickly. "How do I explain this?"

He led her to a very large and sprawling oak tree, the eaves of which spread out in all directions, casting a shadow over the earth as the sunlight could only enter in small patches mottling the ground. Beneath the eaves of the great oak tree, they sat, resting their backs against the gnarly bark. As they sat, she found that she had a better view of Alba Longa here than from anywhere else in the village, with all the wooden houses and the fields spreading out towards the woods beyond, and all the people and the animals in between.

"So this is it," Jaune said. "Where I grew up. What do you think?"

Pyrrha leaned against him, resting her head against his shoulder. "I think it's beautiful. It's so—"

"Peaceful?" Jaune suggested.

Pyrrha paused for a moment, thinking it over. "Yes," she said. "I can see that."

"This is the kind of place where you can go your whole life without ever seeing a huntsman."

Pyrrha looked around, looking now with the eyes of a huntress instead of a tourist or a girlfriend. Besides the thick woods, the lake would act as a barrier to any grimm coming from the west — non-aquatic grimm didn't like the water and couldn't swim — while notwithstanding the sheer fact of the mountains that warded all of Vale from the east, the woods were thick, and the north and east of Alba Long was ringed by seven hills which might have been better used as watchtowers but would offer some barrier to incursion anyway. And they were quite some way from the edge of Valish territory, so this town would be unlikely to be the first to feel the sting of any grimm incursion. Yes, she could see how it was possible that this place had dwelt for some time untroubled by the creatures of grimm, and if it were so that people here had never seen a huntsman before, then it would explain why they, one of whom was known to everyone — this was clearly the kind of place where everyone knew the business of all their neighbours as well as their own — to have gone away to become a huntsman, had attracted the kind of looks she had gotten here.

"I see," she murmured.

"Do you?" Jaune asked. "Because it's not just that people can go forever without seeing a huntsman; it's that … it's that they've gone for so long without seeing one that they've forgotten why there are huntsmen in the first place."

Pyrrha sat up. "What do they think? That because they can't see the grimm that the grimm don't exist?"

"Maybe," Jaune said. "I've never heard anyone put it quite like that, but it feels like that. This place … it wasn't until I left to come to Beacon that I realised just how small and isolated this place is. I mean, you've come all the way from Mistral, and Ruby and Yang are from an island off the coast, Sunset and Weiss came down from Atlas — and before that, Sunset came to Atlas from another world altogether. There are people in Vale from all over the world and even beyond, but here, there's practically nobody who wasn't born here, and the ones that weren't all knew someone here before they moved; it's like you need a letter of introduction before you can live in this town. The only time there's any real contact with the outside world is at harvest time, when the cargo trains come, and the excess crops get sold to Vale.

"I didn't just sneak away to Beacon in the middle of the night because nobody here believed that I could do it … I did it because nobody here would have even believed that I, or anybody else for that matter, needed to do it. Things here go on the way they always have, and it seems like that's the way they always will.

"It's so weird, coming back here knowing … everything that we know. There's so much darkness out there, and they can't even see it."

"Maybe that's as it should be," Pyrrha said softly.

Jaune looked at her like she was a little unhinged. "You really think so?"

"If everyone is fighting to protect the world, then what is really being protected?" Pyrrha asked him. "We don't fight because we love the violence, and with respect to … to my mother and to certain others of my people, we don't fight to win eternal glory for ourselves either. Surely we fight to protect … places like this." She gestured to the town spread out before them. "If they can live in such peace that they think that what we do is pointless, then doesn't that prove that we're succeeding?"

"I guess," Jaune said, although he sounded less than totally convinced. "Wouldn't you like a little credit, though?"

"I've had credit enough, personally," Pyrrha said. "I'm happy to just do what the world demands of me." She paused for a moment. "Maybe we can't stop Salem, but we can defend this way of life, even if it doesn't value us at all, and right now, that feels like enough to me."

Jaune was silent for a moment. "I think I might still like a little credit," he muttered. He grinned boyishly. "But I guess protecting home is pretty good too."

Pyrrha smiled. "Speaking of which, are you…?"

"Not quite yet," Jaune said as he leaned back and closed his eyes. "Can we just sit here for a couple of moments?"

"Of course," Pyrrha said as she rested her head upon his shoulder once again. Like him, she closed her eyes. "So, apart from the fact that nobody saw the need for you to become a huntsman, what was it like growing up here?"

"Not always great," Jaune admitted. "But not always bad, either. I … the problem was always me more than it was this place."

Pyrrha frowned. "I'm sure that isn't—"

"I'm the one who didn't fit in," Jaune went on, cutting her off. "I'm the one who wasn't the right kind of person—"

"There is no such thing as the right kind of person," Pyrrha said, softly but firmly all the same. "Except, perhaps, for those that others conform to their vision of what the 'right kind of person' is."

Jaune was quiet for a moment. He didn't look at her. "I guess … I can't say that I was really happy here. That's another reason why I left, if that doesn't sound too selfish of me."

"Not at all," Pyrrha assured him. "Unless choosing Beacon over Haven was selfish of me."

Jaune nodded. "I … don't have the best memories growing up here," he said, "but at the same time, I can't bring myself to hate this place. I maybe hate a couple of the people here, but mostly … I mean it wasn't all bad. There were some good times too. Soon, everyone will probably start getting ready for the harvest festival; that's a festival where they celebrate bringing in the harvest, well, I mean, obviously, it is … they actually chase the cattle out of the square, and the whole town comes together to celebrate another good year; it's like a big party, with dancing and singing and games … and guys getting into fights when they've had too much cider."

Pyrrha giggled, covering her mouth with one hand.

"The strawberries must be getting ripe about now," Jaune said. "In fact, a lot of things will have to start being gathered in soon, but I always liked it when it came time to pick the strawberries; they'd let all us kids help out, and they wouldn't mind too much if you ate a few or even took some home. It's … this is the kind of place where everyone knows your name."

"Which is why everyone is staring at you," Pyrrha said.

"Exactly," Jaune said. "They all recognise me, and yet at the same time, it's like none of them know me at all."

"Because they see what they want to see?" Pyrrha guessed.

"Not exactly," Jaune replied. "It's more like … this kind of place, where everyone knows everyone, this kind of place can be hard if you don't fit in. Like Miranda … or like me. Because once people know that you don't fit in, that you're not what's expected of you, not what they want you to be … that follows you everywhere; there's no getting away from it; there's no one who has no idea who you are and so just treats you … like a stranger. Instead, they all have a fixed idea of who you are: little Jaune Arc. It's what I'll always be to them, but … I feel as though I've changed so much since I went away, since coming to Beacon, that I'm just not that person anymore, if I ever was. I'm just not sure if they'll ever be able to see that."

Pyrrha felt that he must be specifically thinking of his family, and so she said, "I'm sure you will. I'm certain that you'll show them."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because you came to Beacon with no knowledge, no training, not even your aura activated, but you didn't let any of that stop you," Pyrrha reminded him. "That isn't the behaviour of someone who gives up or takes no for an answer."

"I think … I hope you're right," Jaune said. He took a deep breath. "And I think I'm ready now."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," Jaune said, although he moved a little slowly as he got to his feet. "Yeah, I'm sure."

He led her to one of the largest houses in the town, one that, like many of the large houses in Alba Longa, looked as though it had been built not all at once but in fits and starts and stages over several generations. It was built of painted wood — or it looked that way on the outside anyway; it might be like Mistral, where the houses had antique-seeming fronts, but Pyrrha doubted it — and much as it looked like a house of many different parts jammed together, so too was it painted in many different colours, as many colours as the rainbow in fact, each part of the house bearing a different colour splashed onto the wood with little regard for how it harmonised or didn't with the rest of the house. A picket fence, likewise painted in myriad colours, surrounded a modest garden with gladioli growing just behind.

"Whenever a part of the house needs to be repainted, Dad just picks one of us and gets us to do it," Jaune explained, "and we each had our own favourite colour, so … here we are."

The gate was not locked, and Jaune pushed it open and held it for her as she followed him in. There was a porch with a swing but no one there, and no one was at the windows to see them as they walked down the dirt path through the front garden to the golden door.

Jaune hesitated in front of this door as though it were an alpha grimm, squaring his shoulders as he stood still, his arms hanging by his side.

Pyrrha said nothing. It wasn't her place to say anything. This … this was Jaune's battle, and she was confident that he could win it without her help.

But she did take his hand in hers and smiled at him to remind him that she was there if he needed her.

Jaune squared his shoulders, breathed in, and knocked on the door. His hand made a solid series of thumps upon the painted wood.

There was a moment of silence from the other side of the door.

"Please be Saphron, please be Saphron, please be Saphron," Jaune muttered.

"Just a second!" someone called from inside the house.

"Kendal, great," Jaune moaned quietly.

The door opened, revealing a young woman a few years older than Jaune and Pyrrha, dressed in a rough homespun green tunic and pants with a green-brown vest worn over the top. She had the same blonde hair and blue eyes as Jaune, and like Jaune, her hair was cut short and somewhat untidy, although instead of falling down over her forehead, it stuck out in a series of mild spikes in front of her in a way that reminded Pyrrha somewhat of Rainbow Dash.

The girl stared at Jaune, her eyes widening as she took him in as though she wasn't quite sure that he wasn't a dream.

"Jaune?" she said, revealing as she spoke that she was missing a couple of teeth. "Is that you?"

Jaune smiled nervously. "Hey, K—"

"You've got some nerve showing up here, you know that?" she demanded.

"Kendal, I—"

"What, do you think that you can just creep away in the middle of the night with only a note to tell us where you were going, then say nothing for months and then suddenly just show up and everything is going to be okay?"

"I called Mom—"

"You didn't call me, you big jackass!" Kendal yelled. "I spent two whole weeks searching the whole area around here for you in case you'd wandered out into the woods and gotten lost or something."

Jaune took a step back. "You thought I couldn't even find my way to Beacon? To the train station?"

"No, no, you do not get to turn this back on me after what you put me … what you put all of us through," Kendal said. "I had to hear from Miranda Wells, Miranda Wells, if you please, that you weren't dead in that big battle up in Vale. Miranda Wells! Why, I could just … come here, you!" She reached out for Jaune.

Pyrrha grabbed her wrist — gently, so as not to hurt her, but firmly all the same. "I understand that you have reason to be upset," she said, "but please, don't hurt him."

Kendal looked at her as though she were only now noticing Pyrrha's presence, which might even have been the case. "Hello," she said. "You're new … although I do feel as though I've seen you somewhere before."

Kendal frowned. Pyrrha, not wanting to bring Pumpkin Pete's Marshmallow Flakes into the conversation, held her peace.

She also let Kendal go, her point having been made to her own satisfaction. She didn't know exactly how Jaune's family had treated him, because he didn't go into details. He said that they had not been cruel to him, but she was not exactly inclined to take any chances on the subject.

Kendal continued to stare at Pyrrha, even as she rubbed her wrist with her other hand. "Well? Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend, Jaune?"

"Right!" Jaune yelped. "Pyrrha, this is my sister, Kendal … one of my sisters; Kendal, this is…" He took a deep breath. "This is my girlfriend, Pyrrha Nikos."

"Hello," Pyrrha said.

Kendal smirked. "Let me guess: you're an only child aren't you, Pyrrha Nikos?"

"That's right," Pyrrha said uncertainly.

Kendal's grin became something approaching savage. "Then I'll forgive you for not realising that what's about to happen to my brother isn't going to hurt him." She reached up and grabbed Jaune's hair. "It's just going to humiliate him a little!"

Jaune squawked in alarm as Kendal pulled his head downwards. The two struggled, and from the fact that Jaune was losing, Pyrrha guessed that he had deactivated his aura — doubtless because he didn't wish to actually hurt his sister any more than she wished to hurt him. Soon, Kendal had gotten him in a headlock, and she held him there as he squirmed in her grasp, rubbing the top of his head vigorously with her fist.

"You feel that burn?" Kendal demanded. "That's my heartburn from when I thought you were dead!"

Jaune groaned. "Come on — ah! — Kendal, get off! Come on, you left!"

"I go away, and then I come back; that's completely different!"

"I went … and now I'm back; isn't that the same thing?"

Kendal released him. "Back for how long?" she demanded.

"A few days," Jaune said. "Dad's birthday."

"That's going to be fun," Kendal mutered.

"Yeah, that's what I was afraid of," Jaune said.

Kendal grinned. "Don't worry about it, little Jaune," she said, in spite of the fact that Jaune was over a head taller than her. "If it gets too rough, you can hide behind me, just like you used to." She folded her arms. "So, you actually made it to Beacon, huh?"

"Yeah, I made it," Jaune said. He struck a pose, one hand on his hip, the other jabbing his thumb towards the centre of his chest. "You're looking at Jaune Arc, huntsman in training."

A huntsman in training who has done things that many grown huntsmen would shrink from, Pyrrha thought.

Kendal snorted and glanced at Pyrrha out of the side of her eyes. "And you're dating this loser because? Are you guys at Bea— aah!"

"What?" Jaune asked.

"That's where I saw you before: on the new picture!" Kendal yelled, pointing at Pyrrha. "You're one of his teammates aren't you?"

"Mom put the picture I sent on the wall?" Jaune asked.

"Of course, Mom put the picture up on the wall; Mom puts all the pictures up on the wall," Kendal said. "God, River is going to be so insufferable."

Assuming River is another sister, why would—?

"Please tell me that you didn't," Jaune said.

"Of course we did," Kendal said. "Me, River, and Saphron. Aoko picked someone at random, Violet insisted that it was none of the above, Sky said that we were being ridiculous, and Rouge said that we were being irresponsible and childish … but then she made a pick anyway while Sky wasn't around."

"Oh, God," Jaune whimpered.

"Um, what did you do?" Pyrrha asked.

"Jaune sent Mom a picture of himself with three hot chicks and a cute girl," Kendal said. "So we—"

"They had a pool on which of you, Sunset, Blake, or Ruby I was dating," Jaune groaned, sounding as though he wanted to sink into the floor and never reemerge.

Pyrrha's mouth formed a little O of surprise. She couldn't really find a reaction to that news because it was all just so outside of the normal realm of her experience. She wasn't sure if she ought to be embarrassed, shocked, upset, or defensive; she wasn't sure if, indeed, she ought to feel anything at all. "Oh," she said.

"Kendal?" someone called from inside the house. "You've been at the door a long time, who is it?"

Jaune sighed. "How bad is it going to be in there?"

"Well, Dad's not home right now," Kendal said, as though that was a good thing. "But on the other hand, you did run away without telling us, and you have a girlfriend now, so on the whole … it's going to be like you never went away." She grabbed Jaune and pulled him inside.

Pyrrha felt that she had been left outside, forgotten. Certainly she had not been invited in.

Although that might not have been an oversight.

Nevertheless, Pyrrha entered the house after them, hoping that the Arcs would forgive the discourtesy.

Kendal dragged Jaune by the arm into a long hallway, lit by warm orange lamps that cast a soft, inviting glow reminiscent of a log fire onto the wood-floored room. Pyrrha followed as Jaune was brought down the hall and into a spacious dining room. The walls were wood-panelled, with red curtains on the windows and a real fire burning in the grate.

Various rural knickknacks and curios sat on the mantelpiece, although the thing that Pyrrha noticed most was the thing that wasn't there: the place upon the mantelpiece reserved for the absent Crocea Mors, the stand where it had sat in pride of place until Jaune had taken it. Its absence — and the presence of its resting place — seemed to act as a silent reproof to him for what he had done, or would do when he noticed it.

The farthest wall from where Pyrrha stood in the doorway was covered in photographs, but they were too far away for her to be able to make them out in any amount of detail at all. A long red sofa sat between the two windows. There was an immense amount of space in the room surrounding the long dining table that sat in the centre of it, around which a quartet of women and girls were gathered, setting it for dinner.

"No, Saphron, the starter set goes on the outside; how could you forget that?"

"Since we don't have starters every night in Argus."

"River, a couple of those cups are cracked; we'll use the willow-pattern ones instead. And where's Sky?"

"We're twins; we're not a hive mind."

Three of the four were being marshalled by the last and oldest of them, a woman who looked, in fact, as though she might be old enough to be Jaune's mother, although it had to be said that she had aged quite gracefully if that were the case. She was wearing red, with a string necklace around her neck adorned with seven sparkling gemstones in the colours of the rainbow. She was continually gesturing with her hands as she directed the actions of the others and corrected their mistakes.

"Better set a couple more places, 'cause guess who found the way back home!" Kendal announced cheerfully, gesturing at Jaune with both hands.

All four women stopped what they were doing. Someone dropped a cup which shattered on the floor. A handful of spoons clattered onto the table. Four pairs of blue eyes widened in astonishment.

"Jaune?" the eldest of the women, the one in red who might be his mother, murmured.

Jaune laughed nervously. "Hi."

"Jaune!" shrieked a young woman in violet, whose hair, worn in a pixie cut, was not the golden blonde of her brother and sisters and possible mother, but more of a sandy brown colour. She led the charge towards him, closely followed by the others, questions issuing from three out of four mouths.

"What are you doing here? How long are you staying?"

"Are you coming back for good?"

"Now, now, girls," said the older woman in the red blouse. "Let's not overwhelm him in his first few minutes back. Especially since I think Kendal has been doing a little of that already."

She gave Kendal a knowing look and a slight smile.

Kendal replied with an unabashed shrug. "I said what I needed to say."

The woman in red, her feet concealed beneath a wine-dark floor-length skirt, glided through the others, who made way for her, until she was standing in front of Jaune, looking up at him. "You've gotten taller."

Jaune blinked. "I have? I mean, I … I have."

The woman in red nodded, before she enfolded him in a hug. "Welcome home, Jaune. We've missed you."

Jaune put his arms around her and rested his head upon her shoulder.

Pyrrha smiled, as did the Arc sisters, the girl in violet especially. Even Kendal was smiling, although after a moment, she coughed into one hand and gestured at Pyrrha with her thumb. "Like I said: two extra places for dinner."

The woman in red opened her eyes and noticed Pyrrha. "Oh, please forgive me for not noticing that we have a guest."

"That's quite alright, Mrs. Arc," Pyrrha said, as she bowed her head respectfully.

She was greeted with an absolute silence, broken only by the sound of someone sniggering.

As the silence continued, Pyrrha began to wonder if she hadn't made some kind of faux pas.

"Um, Pyrrha," Jaune said. "This isn't my mother. This my eldest sister, Rouge."

Pyrrha's face snapped up, even as she could feel it starting to burn bright red. "I'm so sorry; I should never have—"

"That's quite all right," Rouge said, with laughter ringing in her voice. "I am the eldest by quite a way; you're not the first to get the wrong idea. And I am technically a Mrs. Arc, even if I'm not the Mrs. Arc of the house, so you weren't even wholly wrong. Besides, I sometimes feel as though I'm more of a mother than a sister to these monkeys."

"Offensive to monkeys, don't you think?" Kendal asked.

Rouge gave a 'you see what I mean' look as she held out her hand towards Pyrrha. "Rouge Mead Arc. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss—?"

"Pyrrha," Pyrrha said, as she took Rouge's outstretched hand. "Pyrrha Nikos."

Rouge's smile was soft, gentle and inviting. "And what brings you to our home, Miss Nikos?"

"Jaune's got a girlfriend," Kendal said in a sing-song voice.

The girl in violet gasped. "A girlfriend? Seriously?"

"You're the redhead in the picture!" yelled one of the other girls, wearing a blue tank-top and her hair tied back in a ponytail with an equally blue ribbon. "I won! I totally called it!"

"Why don't you say it louder," said the one wearing a tan vest over a burnt orange top. "I don't think we've scared her enough yet."

"And these are some of my other sisters," Jaune said, sounding as though his entire life was a river of unending suffering. "Violet, River, and Saphron."

"It's a pleasure to meet you all," Pyrrha said. River was the one in blue with the ponytail, also the one who had correctly identified Pyrrha as Jaune's girlfriend over Sunset, Ruby, or Blake; Saphron looked like a younger version of Rouge, with the same haircut of just-below-the-shoulder length, except that she was more informally dressed with a tan vest over an orange top, and pants and boots instead of an A-line skirt; Violet was the one with the sandy hair and dressed from head to toe in the colour of her name, whose eyes narrowed as she stared at Pyrrha like a bad smell.

"Have we met before?" River asked.

Pyrrha blinked. "I don't believe so, no."

"When would you have met her before?" Kendal demanded. "You have literally never left home in your entire life."

"Don't say it like that's a bad thing," River replied. "I just know that I've seen her before, we all have."

"On the picture that Jaune sent home," Kendal pointed out.

"No! Before that! I kept telling you, ever since Mom put that picture up on the wall, I've seen her before."

Pyrrha held her peace. If they hadn't worked it out, she wasn't going to enlighten them. In this place, in this company, she didn't wish to be the Pumpkin Pete's mascot or the Invincible Girl or the Princess Without a Crown or anything else. She only wished to be Pyrrha Nikos, Jaune's girlfriend.

Thankfully, Jaune seemed to recognise that fact and kept quiet too, for which she was very grateful.

"Anyway," Saphron said. "You could also call me Mrs. Arc, Mrs. Cotta-Arc, if you really wanted to, although Saphron will do just fine. If you need any help with anything, just ask me."

"That's very kind of you," Pyrrha said.

Saphron shrugged. "I've had to show one newcomer around the family already, so I've had more practice than anyone else. So, you're a huntress?"

"In training, yes," Pyrrha said.

"I can't say you'll be universally popular," Saphron said. "But you have my respect and my thanks for taking care of my brother."

"We take care of one another," Pyrrha replied, but even as she said it, she didn't miss the awkward looks on the faces of River and Rouge — Violet's expression remained overtly hostile — as though they didn't agree with Saphron's sentiment but were too bound by manners to actually say so. She remembered what Jaune had said about the people in this town and their general attitude of dismissive low regard towards huntsmen.

Nobody here would have even believed that I, or anybody else for that matter, needed to do it.

Nobody including his own sisters?

Violet folded her arms. "Is she really your girlfriend?"

"Yes," Jaune said.

"Really?"

"Yes, is that so hard to believe?"

"Hmph," Violet said. "I don't like her."

"Violet!" Rouge snapped. "There's no call to be rude."

Pyrrha didn't know what to say. Nor, it seemed, did anyone else either, until someone else walked down the stairs and into the room from the other side. This newcomer was most definitely not an Arc; not only did she lack the blue eyes shared amongst the other sisters, but her skin was dark instead of fair, and her hair was black as coal; she was dressed in a light blue jacket over a dark blue top, and she wore a pair of spectacles with red frames resting on the tip of her nose.

"I hate to complain," she said, "but all of this yelling makes it hard to get Adrian to sleep."

Saphron winced. "He's not upset, is he?"

"No," the other woman said, "but he might be if you don't all calm down. Oh, hey, Jaune, I didn't realise you were here."

"He just got back," Saphron explained. "Hence all the yelling."

"Ah, I see," the other woman said, as she walked towards them. She glanced at Pyrrha. "Pyrrha Nikos?"

Pyrrha winced. "Yes, I have that honour."

"Terra Cotta-Arc," Terra said. "I'm Saphron's wife."

"I'm Jaune's girlfriend," Pyrrha said.

"Ah, I thought it must be something like that," Terra said, as she shook Pyrrha's hand. She whispered, "Get out now, while you still can."

Pyrrha chuckled. "Your accent … Argus?"

"Very good, most people can't recognise it. But I suppose you spent enough time there at Sanctum Academy."

"Enough to recognise what Argive sounds like; not Atlesian or Mistralian, but a kind of mixture of the two."

"Do you know her?" Violet demanded.

"Do we know her?" asked River.

"How come I don't know her?" inquired Saphron.

"Only by reputation, apparently not, and because you haven't assimilated into Mistralian culture enough," Terra replied, pointing to Violet, River, and Saphron in turn. "Pyrrha is the champion of Mistral and graduated top of her class from Sanctum Academy." She didn't mention Pumpkin Pete, or indeed the crown that Pyrrha was without, but merely smiled. "The howls of outrage when she decided to go to Beacon instead of Haven shook the walls of Argus."

"I think that's a little bit of an exaggeration," Pyrrha said.

Terra shrugged. "If column inches in the editorials could talk…"

"I suppose they care about such things in places like Argus," Violet declared airily.

"Vi, don't," Kendal said sharply.

"Don't what?" Violet demanded.

"Don't talk out of your—"

"Both of you, stop it," Rouge said firmly. "You'll embarrass the family in front of Terra and Pyrrha."

She really did seem more like their mother than another sister, Pyrrha reflected as she noted the way in which Violet and Kendal both obeyed her, both falling into cowed silence and refusing to meet one another's gaze. The room settled once more into an awkward silence.

Why do I feel as though my being here has caused more harm to Jaune than good so far?

"So," Jaune said. "Uh, Rouge … how's Ruben? Where's Ruben, for that matter?"

"What is Ruben?" River murmured.

Rouge glanced at River for a moment before her eyes flickered back to her brother. "He's … fine," she said softly. "We are … both of us are fine. He's out back, chopping some wood for the fire."

"Not that he'd help set the table anyway," Kendal muttered.

"It isn't man's work," Rouge said, with a touch of reproach in her voice.

"Say men who don't want to do the work," Kendal replied.

"Leave your outside ideas in the outside, where they belong," Rouge declared. "Don't bring them into this house."

"Anyway," Jaune said loudly, "where are Sky and Aoko?"

"Aoko has a deadline to meet, so she gets a pass on helping set the table," Rouge said. "Sky—"

"Is going to kill you," River said.

"She's upset, huh?" Jaune asked nervously.

"She is actually going to kill you," River said. "Or at least throw you in prison."

"Why would she—?"

"JAUNE ARC!"

"Here we go," River muttered.

Another Arc sister had appeared at the foot of the stairs, wearing a blue shirt with the collar undone and a pair of dark trousers; her hair was cut just above the shoulder, and she was wearing a law enforcement badge on her left breast.

"Sky—" Jaune began.

"I ought to put you under arrest right now," Sky declared as she strode towards him.

"Arrest me for what?" Jaune cried.

"Grand larceny of a priceless antique, for starters," Sky said. "Did you at least bring the sword back?"

"Well, uh … kinda," Jaune mumbled.

"What do you mean, 'kinda'?" Rouge asked, putting one hand on her hip.

"It, uh … it got a little … broken," Jaune admitted, looking down at his shoes.

"Destruction of property!"

"Give it a rest, Sky," River sighed. "And just admit that you're happy to see Jaune, and then admit that I'm awesome because Pyrrha here is Jaune's girlfriend, just like I said, hah!"

Sky turned a glare on Pyrrha. "Pyrrha, huh?"

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Pyrrha said, holding out one hand.

Sky didn't take it. In fact, she looked at Pyrrha's hand as though it was filthy. "So … you're one of Jaune's teammates as well as his girlfriend? You're a huntress?"

"A big shot huntress, by the sound of it," Saphron added.

"That is correct," Pyrrha murmured. "I mean I am Jaune's teammate, his partner … in every sense. And I am a huntress at Beacon Academy. I'm not sure that … Terra praises me beyond my desert."

"Hmm," Sky murmured wordlessly as she advanced on Pyrrha. She came so close to her that their faces were practically touching. Sky seemed to be examining her from all angles. "Well, you may be a huntress, but I'm the sheriff in this town, so don't go causing any trouble, okay?"

"I have no intention of causing any trouble at all," Pyrrha said, wondering what it was that she thought a huntress did that she needed to issue such a warning.

"You did that when—"

"Violet," Kendal growled.

Sky nodded curtly, before rounding on her brother once again. "A note? Really?"

Jaune wilted visibly under the gaze of so many sisters. "I wasn't sure that you'd let me go if I told you what I was planning."

"We wouldn't," Rouge said with absolute honesty. "But that's not an excuse for going behind our backs about it." She smiled. "But at least you're back now."

"And you're never going away again, right?" Violet said, closing the distance between the two of them to grip tightly onto his right arm.

"I don't think that's the plan," Saphron said. "Right, Jaune?"

"No," Jaune admitted. "I'm only here for—"

"Jaune? Is that you?"

The woman who had now appeared through a door that, from the brief glimpse that Pyrrha had of it before it swung shut, led into the kitchen, was almost certainly Jaune's mother; she was obviously middle-aged, plump with lines appearing on her face; she had Violet's sandy hair rather than the gold hair of most of her daughters, and streaks of grey appeared here and there upon her locks. A ring sat upon her finger: a decorated band of gold, too far away for Pyrrha to make out the exact nature of the decoration, with a glittering emerald set upon it.

Her eyes were as blue as any other Arc's, however, and they appeared to be welling up with tears.

Just as they had made way for Rouge, so now all the girls, including Rouge, made way for her.

"Hey, Mom," Jaune said.

"You came," Mrs. Arc said. "Just like I asked.

"Just like you asked," Jaune said. "I wouldn't miss it."

He bent down to allow his mother to plant a flurry of kisses on his cheeks, and nobody dared snigger or smirk while it happened.

"My baby boy," Mrs Arc said. "You came back. You came back to me."

Jaune smiled. "Mom, there's someone very special that I'd like you to meet." He turned towards Pyrrha, gesturing towards her with one hand. "This is Pyrrha: my teammate, my partner … and my girlfriend."

Pyrrha bowed from the waist, bending down forty-five degrees, gripping the edges of her skirt with her hands and pulling it out on either side of her. "It's an honour to meet you, Mrs. Arc. Pyrrha Nikos, at your service."

"Oh, please dear there's no need to stand on ceremony around here," Mrs. Arc said. "And no need to call me 'Mrs. Arc' either; 'Ma'am' will do just fine. So you've come all the way from Beacon with Jaune?"

"I have, ma'am, yes," Pyrrha said.

"Then I guess we'll need two more places at the table," Mrs. Arc said. "Rouge, will you arrange that?"

"Of course, Mom," Rouge said.

"Jaune, I still have a few things to finish off in the kitchen before your father gets home; will you come and give me a hand?"

"Uh, really?" Jaune said. "But, uh—"

"I'm sure that Pyrrha can manage without you for a little while, and we have so much to catch up on," Mrs. Arc said.

Pyrrha gave Jaune a smile and a nod to indicate that she would indeed be fine, even though Violet was looking at her like a lioness that had wandered into a herd of gazelle, and Sky was actively sizing her up.

Nevertheless, Jaune looked reassured as he followed his mother into the kitchen, which was the main thing. They did have a lot to catch up on, after all, and Pyrrha wasn't going to stand in the way of that. This was, after all, Jaune's family and Jaune's visit. She was just here to support him.

She wished that she had a way of making the more hostile of Jaune's sisters understand that.

Violet continued to glare at her. River looked apologetic while Sky seemed suspicious. Rouge's look was guarded, while only Saphron and Kendal seemed truly friendly in the way they looked at her.

Rouge turned to her sisters. "Anyway, as we've been told, we need to add two places to the table, so Kendal, if you'll give me a hand."

"If there's anything I can do—?" Pyrrha ventured.

"Oh, no, of course not," Rouge said, as though the idea were ridiculous. "You're our guest; just relax and let us take care of you."

"If you don't need me—" Sky began.

"Who said I didn't need you?" Rouge asked.

"If you don't need me," Sky repeated, putting additional emphasis on her words, "I'll keep Pyrrha company while you're finishing up."

Rouge looked at her, and some unspoken words seemed to pass between the two of them. "Very well, that sounds like an excellent idea."

"Great!" Sky said jovially. "Pyrrha, if you'd like to come with me?" She gestured towards the hall from which Pyrrha had first entered the dining room.

Pyrrha didn't know exactly what Sky wanted to talk about, but she couldn't help a slight feeling of a trap here. It sounded absurd, put like that; this was Jaune's family, after all, not some pack of bandits in the wilds of Mistral.

Nevertheless, that feeling was with her.

And yet, because this was Jaune's family, she smiled all the same and said, "Of course, lead the way."

"I will," Sky said as she led Pyrrha out of the dining room, into the hall through which Kendal had first dragged Jaune, and then out onto the porch. The sun was beginning to set by now, and the air was starting to cool. The breeze was chilly on Pyrrha's face as she and Sky Arc stood under the porch and the sky began to darken around them.

Sky leaned on the wooden railing separating the wooden porch from the garden.

Pyrrha hesitated, waiting somewhat awkwardly for Sky to say something. She presumed that Sky wanted to say something, but Jaune's sister seemed reticent to actually say it. So Pyrrha reached for some small talk to fill up the time.

"This is a beautiful town that you have here."

"It's a nice town," Sky said. "With nice people in it. People like Jaune, before he got taken away."

"Nobody took your brother away," Pyrrha replied.

"Sure they did," Sky replied, still not looking at Pyrrha. "Those comic books that Mom and Dad shouldn't have let him read, the stories about great-grandpa that people shouldn't have told him. Dreams of glory and adventure in far away places. They took Jaune away."

"There's nothing wrong with dreams," Pyrrha said. "Sometimes, they can inspire us to be better people."

Sky didn't respond to that. She still didn't turn away from where she leaned upon the porch rail. "My dad was a huntsman once."

"I know," Pyrrha said.

"But he gave it up," Sky said. "To raise a family, to live here, in the town that our family established, here where our roots are. He realised that family and belonging were more important than gallivanting around the world. He tried to teach his children that."

"What Jaune does is important," Pyrrha insisted. "Very important. For some people, I'd even say that it's vital."

"Why?"

"Because not everywhere is as lucky as this town when it comes to not seeing a grimm in years," Pyrrha said, and she couldn't help but let a touch of coldness into her voice. "Do you think that the creatures of grimm are a myth just because you've never seen one?"

Sky snorted. "Can I call you Pyrrha or do you prefer Miss Nikos?"

"Pyrrha is fine," Pyrrha said softly.

"Have you ever killed anybody Pyrrha?"

"No," Pyrrha murmured. At least, not to my knowledge.

Sky's voice was quiet. "Has Jaune ever killed anyone?"

Pyrrha swallowed. "Yes," she said. "I'm afraid so."

Sky stared at her for a moment in mute astonishment, before she turned and punched the railing beneath her.

"I wasn't happy about it either," Pyrrha said, as she recalled her mortification at what Jaune had been forced to do because she had abandoned him. "I'm sorry, I should have taken better care of him—"

"Jaune doesn't need you to take care of him; he has us, his family," Sky snapped. "And don't you dare say anything like 'I'm his family' or 'his team is his family' because you're not; you're just the people he works with in a job he shouldn't have!"

Pyrrha said nothing. She could not find it in herself to be angry at Sky, as much as Sky was plainly furious with her. Her wrath came out of love, and Pyrrha could not censure her for that. She thought that Sky was wrong, but she wasn't going to argue the point with her in her own home.

Sky took a deep breath. "I've been sheriff of this town for two and a half years, ever since Sheriff Pearl decided to retire. In that time, I've never even had to draw my gun, let alone shoot it. And my baby brother is a killer."

"There's a difference between murder and defending yourself in battle," Pyrrha said.

"He shouldn't have been in a position where he had to defend himself," Sky said. "This is a nice town, a peaceful town; maybe some other places have to send their kids off to fight monsters, but not us, not here. Jaune should be throwing up after drinking too much at the harvest dance, not getting into situations where it's kill or be killed."

"And what about those other places?" Pyrrha asked, trying to keep her tone courteous even as it firmed up. "People are alive today who wouldn't be if it weren't for Jaune; are you willing to condemn them to death just so that he can be safe? Have you even considered that this is what Jaune has chosen to do with his life?"

"Don't talk to me like you know Jaune better than I do," Sky said. "You've known him for months; I've known him for his whole life."

And yet, you don't seem to have any respect for him to make his own decisions, Pyrrha thought, but bit her tongue in saying it because it would have made an ill guest of her to actually give voice to it. She remembered what Jaune had said about people who had known him as a child only seeing him as a child; apparently, it had affected his family, even if he hadn't been explicitly referring to them.

"I know that Jaune is a good man and a good huntsman," Pyrrha said. "I know that, in time, he could be great, if he continues to work hard and believe in himself. And I know that he has done a lot of good in the world, and will do so much more good in the world."

She hesitated over saying more, but she felt that even though it might verge upon rudeness it had to be said nevertheless. "More good than he would do here, as nice a place as this seems to be."

Sky's jaw tightened with anger, but she appeared to master it with a force of will.

"Saphron said that you were some kind of big deal. Is that right?"

"I … have a certain reputation, in some quarters," Pyrrha said quietly.

Sky snorted. "Well, that may be at Beacon, in Vale, out there; maybe people hang upon your every word and whatever you say goes, but if you thought that you could waltz in here—"

"That isn't why I'm here," Pyrrha said.

"Then why are you here?" Sky demanded.

"Because Jaune invited me to meet his family," Pyrrha declared, and however ill-advised it might have been, she could not help but add, "to have someone here who is on his side."

A growl of wordless anger escaped from Sky's throat. She took a deep breath. "This," she said, "is our town. An Arc founded this town; in this town, we are the big deal, so I am going to give you fair warning: Jaune is going to be staying here with his family, and you are going to be heading back to Beacon by yourself." She turned away, approaching the door with one last disdainful look in Pyrrha's direction. "So don't bother to unpack."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Arc Talk​

Pyrrha was not concerned.

Sky Arc had gone back inside the house, somewhat rudely leaving Pyrrha alone on the porch, free to come in or not as she wished. It would have been more polite to have waited with her, but Sky had made it clear that she didn't enjoy spending time in Pyrrha's company, and Pyrrha had no desire to enforce any more contact between them than was necessary.

Besides, alone with the setting sun as she now was, she would not have to pretend to take Sky's threat very seriously.

She wasn't worried. Assuming, as seemed likely, that what Sky was talking about wasn't some sort of attempt to kidnap Jaune — which would be very unwise even if Pyrrha hadn't been there, and would be downright foolish since she was — then she probably had in mind some attempt to browbeat him into leaving Beacon and bidding Pyrrha farewell — and good riddance too, if Sky had anything to say on the subject. Perhaps they would even have him tell her that he had decided to stay home, since this visit had made him realise what he had been missing.

If that was what they thought was going to happen, then, in many respects, it proved Jaune's point that he would forever be a child in their eyes. The pressure that a group of disapproving sisters could bring to bear might have had some effect on the young Jaune that Pyrrha had never known; it might even have had some effect on the Jaune that she had first met during the early days at Beacon. But Sky was wrong to say that she knew Jaune better than Pyrrha did on the basis of greater longevity of acquaintance: Sky might have known him longer, but Pyrrha had known him more recently, and she had watched him grow up into a fine young man, a man to love, a man who wouldn't turn his back on her and on his comrades and on the battle to which he had pledged himself.

Though the battle be an impossible one, Jaune was committed to it and to the team and, she thought, to her. The idea that he would simply walk away after all he knew and all that they had been through together … she would have scoffed if it would not have been impolite to do so — and if it were not for the fact that this was still Jaune's sister, and Pyrrha had not wholly given up hope of leaving the family with a favourable impression of her.

She was not concerned. She knew Jaune Arc; by now, she dared to think she knew him better than his family did.

She felt a little pity for the fact that Sky was doomed to be so greatly disappointed and to be forced to confront the fact that her little brother had changed without her realising it.

Mostly, however, she felt angry.

It was that anger that had nearly led her to break the wooden railing from gripping it too hard. Not anger at her own treatment — after a lifetime of being feted, elevated, put on a pedestal, she was probably about due for some scorn and dismissal; in other circumstances, she might have found it refreshing — but anger on behalf of Jaune.

These people claimed to love him; perhaps by their own lights, they did love him, but it was clear that their idea of loving him did not involve asking him what he thought or wanted, respecting the fact that he had chosen the destiny he wished to work towards, understanding the fact that although this might not be what they had wanted for him, it was what he wanted for himself. Rather, he was, like a child, to be governed for his own good by those who were wiser than he was and knew better.

Why can't they see that we know what's best for ourselves? Pyrrha thought, and she was not only thinking about Jaune's family.

"Are you okay out here?"

Pyrrha looked towards the door. Terra stood in the doorway, half in the house and half out of it, her spectacles slipping ever so slightly down her nose before she pushed them back up again.

Pyrrha straightened up. "Hello again. I don't suppose I'm needed inside."

"No," Terra said. "But neither am I. Being a guest here can mean getting a lot done for you, but it leaves you at a loose end when everyone's working." She smiled. "Worth it for the results of Mrs. Arc's cooking, though, as you are about to discover … unless you planned to slip away."

Pyrrha smiled thinly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"As much as some people might want you to," Terra said.

Pyrrha's eyebrows rose. "How did you—?"

"It wasn't always a smooth ride for me, at first," Terra said, as she stepped out onto the porch. "Not everyone approved of Saphron moving to Argus, and they certainly didn't like it when she brought me back home with her for a visit."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Pyrrha said softly.

"It didn't last," Terra said easily. "Once I gave birth to Adrian, the first grandchild in the family, I became untouchable."

"How did you bear it until then?" Pyrrha asked.

"It wasn't that bad," Terra replied. "We weren't here very often, and when we were… it wasn't the whole family. It was… the divide in this family is between those who are aware that there's an outside world beyond the confines of this village and those who don't, or who would rather pretend that they don't. One side was a lot more welcoming than the other." She came to stand beside Pyrrha at the railing. "For me, Saphron was worth it; only you can decide if Jaune's worth it to you."

It suddenly occurred to Pyrrha that Terra, finding her standing so pensively out here all by herself, must have thought that she was pondering ditching Jaune in the face of the hostility of some of the other Arcs. "Um, no, I wasn't… I mean he is, but that… I wasn't actually thinking about that."

Terra was silent for a moment. "Oh. I'm sorry; I just assumed—"

"I understand," Pyrrha said. "I can see how it must have looked. I was just… I was thinking about what Sky said."

"They want to take him away from you," Terra said.

Pyrrha looked at her. "How do you know?"

"Because they're talking about it in the dining room, and not being anything like as quiet as they think they are," Terra said. "Saphron is trying to talk them out of it, and Kendal looks about ready to scream. That's, uh, that's another reason why I came out here. If there's a big blowout argument, I'd rather not get caught up in it."

"I understand," Pyrrha murmured.

"Are you worried?"

"No," Pyrrha replied. "Do you think I should be?"

Terra shrugged. "I only met Jaune a couple of times. I can't say I was that impressed. Are you sure that he won't fold?"

Pyrrha nodded. "He's grown a lot since you saw him last."

"I suppose so. I never would have seen him as a huntsman," Terra said. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, bringing up your reputation. You … didn't exactly seem pleased."

"It's…" Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. "It's not your fault."

"I'm the one who said it," Terra pointed out.

"Yes, but you didn't say anything that wasn't true," Pyrrha pointed. "My accomplishments…" She trailed off.

"Not something you're proud of?" Terra guessed.

"Not exactly," Pyrrha murmured. "I am proud of my skill, if that doesn't sound too vain, for I worked to attain it. I wasn't born a champion; my name did not make me top of my class. I worked, I trained, I studied. Those glories, my victory laurels and my spoils, I earned. Of those, I feel I have the right to be proud. It is what came with them that I enjoy less, the pedestal…" She smiled. "I suppose that won't be a problem here, at least."

Terra chuckled. "Wait until River realises that you're the one on the front of Pumpkin Pete's Marshmallow Flakes."

"If she does," Pyrrha said. "Jaune didn't recognise me until it was pointed out to him."

"I can take a hint; they won't hear it from me," Terra assured her.

"I feel as though I ought to thank you," Pyrrha told her, "for not mentioning everything about my reputation."

"I'm an Argive, remember?" Terra said. "The princess stuff doesn't carry the weight there that it does in Mistral; your accomplishments count for more than your birth."

Pyrrha nodded. She recalled that from her time at Sanctum. It had been refreshing at first, not to be the Princess Without a Crown or the Evenstar of Mistral. Of course, it hadn't taken her very long to become the Invincible Girl, and that had been just as bad in its own way.

"Nevertheless, you have my thanks."

Terra offered a mock bow. "Any way I can be of service to the Champion."

"Please don't," Pyrrha said, raising one hand in a halt gesture.

Terra smiled. "I'll try and keep it toned down in there, but you have to allow me a little bit of starstruck enthusiasm. When I saw you, standing in my in-laws' dining room … I couldn't stop myself from blurting out your name. You know, I saw you win your first championship. I won a ticket and an all-expenses-paid trip to Mistral in a raffle. Despite your impressive record of wins to reach the final, nobody believed a thirteen-year-old kid was going to take the laurels."

Pyrrha smiled. "Including you?"

"Oh, I thought you were going to get crushed, but I was rooting for you anyway," Terra replied. "And the money I made betting on you paid for our wedding, so thank you for that."

Pyrrha chuckled. "I'm glad that I could be of service."

That first year, when she was a newcomer to the adult league, was probably the only time that Terra or anyone else could have made money betting on her to win anything. The odds in her favour had shortened considerably in subsequent years.

"I meant what I said in there, you know," Terra added. "Nobody wanted to see you leave."

"That is one of the reasons why I had to leave," Pyrrha said softly. Then it occurred to her that in Alba Longa, she had finally found a place where her reputation carried no weight whatsoever … and everybody hated her. The irony of it made her laugh internally. Is this what they mean by 'be careful what you wish for'?

"Hey, you two," Saphron said as she appeared in the doorway. "Everything okay?"

"Sure," Terra said. "I was just making sure your other guest didn't feel neglected.

Saphron winced. "Sorry about that; things are just a little… anyway, we're almost ready for dinner, so if you'd both like to come back inside? Ruben and Chester are back, so you can meet the other in-laws."

"Good luck," Terra muttered, leaving Pyrrha to wonder just what fresh encounters might be in store for her inside the house.

XxXxX​

The kitchen door flapped shut behind Jaune as he stepped into a room that seemed narrow due to the great abundance of equipment taking up space within it: three towering dual ovens, each one ridiculously large; two freezers and two refrigerators to match; microwaves; hobs; hotplates; kettles on work surfaces; an enormous sink; everything to supply the dietary needs of a family of nine plus a — hopefully — expanding number of in-laws and grandchildren and possible guests without panic, rush, or incident.

It hadn't changed since he went away. The tiles were still cracked in that place in the corner just where he remembered; the tiles themselves were the same marigold shade that he remembered; everything was exactly the same to his eyes, and his nose was assailed by such wonderfully familiar smells that, for a moment, he was transported back to his childhood, with grimm and Salem and Beacon Academy all forgotten as he was a five-year-old with his hair in pigtails once again, fleeing into the kitchen to escape the over-eager attentions of his sisters and find shelter with his mother.

He had resisted learning how to cook, at first; his father couldn't even boil an egg, so clearly, cooking wasn't something that real men did, and it was bad enough that his sisters had roped him into dancing as part of the Arc Family Dancers. He had been adamant that he wasn't going to do any more girly things than he had to. And yet, after many happy hours dipping his fingers into pots and pans and sneaking tastes when his mother wasn't looking, his curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he had wanted to know, he had had to know how his mother managed to create so many delicious tastes and flavours.

And so he had accepted that he would be forever known for his unmanly interests and learned to cook — and a good thing too; just think how many chances to impress Pyrrha he would have missed out on otherwise?

He sniffed the air. "Fried chicken?"

"My special recipe," Mom said cheerily. "Along with jacket potatoes—"

"And all the fillings?" Jaune asked eagerly.

"Of course," Mom said, as if the idea that she would serve anything less was inherently ridiculous. "Cheese, cheese with broccoli, cheese with bacon, beans, tuna with and without mayo, and of course my famous beef chilli."

Jaune could see the famous beef chilli boiling in a huge cast iron pot on one of the hobs nearby, and just as he had when he was a child, he started to move his hand in that direction.

Mom whacked him on the knuckles with a ladle. "Not until you've washed your hands."

Jaune smiled sheepishly. "Sure thing, Mom." He squeezed past her in the direction of the sink.

His mother chuckled. "It's so good to have you back, sweetie."

Jaune turned on the tap, and waited for the water to start to heat up. "It's good to see you too, Mom." He fell silent as the water heated and he ran his hands beneath it. "Listen, I'm sorry; I didn't mean to make you worry, but I did and—"

"Oh, don't worry," Mom said. "You're home, and everything else is in the past now. You're back where you belong, and that's all that really matters."

Jaune blinked. Something about the way that his mother had said that was making his thumbs prick just a little. "Mom … you know I'm only here for Dad's birthday party, right? You asked me to come back, and so I did—"

"Yes," Mom said. "You did. And now you're here; you came back, and everything can be just the way it was. Why would you want to spoil that by running away again?"

"Because I was miserable the way things were," Jaune said as he turned to face his mother. "I mean … when I called, you said that you understood. You said that you were happy that I'd found somewhere to belong. You put that picture I sent you up on the wall."

"Of course I did," Mom said. "I put all the pictures of my babies up on the wall so that everyone can see all the wonderful things that they've done. And I'm glad that you made it to that place that you wanted to go, and I'm glad that you were happy when you got there … but even though it was years ago, I still remember what it was like when your father went out on missions as though it were yesterday. I remember how nervous I was; every knock on the front door would make me near hysterical because I was sure it was someone from Beacon coming with the news that Gold had managed to get himself killed in some far-off field somewhere. I don't want to go through that again with my only boy. What Kendal does is bad enough; I can barely stand it when she's not here. Please, Jaune, don't make me go through that again."

Jaune's brow furrowed as he looked down on her. "I'm sorry, Mom," he murmured. "But I can't just quit and come home."

"Why not?"

"Because my team needs me."

"Oh, I'm sure that they can manage without you."

"Mom!" Jaune squawked, sounding more indignant than he had intended because didn't she get it? Didn't she get that this was exactly the point? "Stuff like that is why I left home in the first place!"

"Stuff like what?"

"Stuff like the fact that nobody in this house ever believed in me at all," Jaune said. "You, Dad, everyone treated me like I was about as much use as a sack of potatoes, like I was such an idiot that it was a miracle I didn't trip over my own feet, like I was … like you were all going to have to spend the rest of your lives taking care of me, because there was no way that I could ever amount to anything by myself."

They had been kind about it, for the most part — although sometimes, he would look into his father's eyes and see such unalloyed disappointment there — but all the kindness in the world couldn't alleviate the shame of knowing that they thought him so completely incapable even of functioning by himself.

"That was why I left," Jaune said. "I wanted to show that I could make it, even though nobody thought I could."

He turned away, and so, he couldn't see the look on his mother's face as she said, "There's nothing wrong with other people wanting to take care of you."

"I know," Jaune said. "But my friends … we take care of one another. They believe in me in ways that nobody in this house ever … You say that it was bad waiting for Dad, not knowing if he was going to be okay or not. Well … if I let Pyrrha go back to Beacon without me, then I know that I'd just spend every single day wondering where they were, what was happening to them, what dangerous mission they were on without me; and if…" He swallowed, because this was almost too terrible to contemplate. "And if anything happened to Pyrrha or Ruby or Sunset when I wasn't around … because I wasn't around, then … I don't know if I could live with myself afterwards. I can't leave them. I can't leave her."

"They're not your family, Jaune," Mom said. "We're your family: all of us, here."

"I know," Jaune said. "But they're where I belong. Beacon is where I belong."

"You belong here with us," Mom said.

"Doing what?" Jaune asked of her, looking at her once again. "What am I supposed to do once I've broken Pyrrha's heart and broken my word to my friends? What am I supposed to do all day once I've proved that I don't deserve to be trusted?"

Mom was silent for a moment. "Miranda Wells saw sense and came home," she pointed out.

"I know," Jaune murmured. "After what happened in Vale—"

"Yes," Mom replied. "What happened in Vale. Not many people talk about it, of course, but Marian Wells and I got to talking, and she explained that poor Miranda … she has nightmares, the poor dear. About those awful monsters."

Jaune closed his eyes for a moment. "I can imagine," he said softly.

"You should go and talk to her," Mom suggested.

Jaune nodded. "That … I don't know … there's nothing that I can do to help, but I'll go and see her anyway." It might not help, but it was the right thing to do regardless.

"She's very pretty," Mom added. "And you two were always so close growing up. Marian and I often thought that maybe—"

"Mom, I don't think that Miranda's going to be in the mood right now," Jaune said. "This isn't really the time or the place. And besides, even if that wasn't true, I already have a girlfriend; I don't need you to set me up."

"She's an outsider and a huntress; do you think she'll ever belong here?"

"I don't belong here," Jaune said.

"Yes, you do," Mom said. "But that girl, Pyrrha was it? I know she's terribly pretty—"

"She's not just pretty; she's beautiful," Jaune said. "And more than beautiful, she's … she's brave and kind and noble and selfless … she helped me when she didn't have to, even after I'd given her every reason not to, just because I needed the help. She never asked for anything in return.

"She isn't scared of anything, and when I see that, it makes it easier for me to be brave too; she was the first person at Beacon, the first person ever to really believe that I could do this, that I could make something of myself." He sighed. "When she's upset, there isn't anything that I want more than to make her happy again, and when she smiles, the way her eyes light up … Pyrrha isn't just beautiful; she's one in a million." He smiled. "I love her, Mom."

He had hoped … he wasn't exactly sure what he had hoped for? That she'd tear up and give him a big hug? That she'd tell him how happy she was for him that he'd found the one? That she'd give him some tips on how to treat Pyrrha as she deserved?

He wasn't entirely sure what he'd hoped for, but he'd hoped for better from her than to hear her say, "I'm sure you think that, honey, but after you've been apart for a few weeks—"

"We're not going to be apart for a few weeks; I'm going back to Beacon," Jaune said firmly. "Mom, stop. If you don't stop then… then I'll go."

His mother's eyes widened. "You'll go? You mean now?"

"Yes," Jaune said, even though his mouth was still watering from the succulent smells of the kitchen. He didn't want to say this, but he felt as though he wasn't being left with very much choice. "I'm not a farmer, and I'm not a baby, and I'm not the same kid who ran away from home. I'm a student of Beacon Academy and a huntsman of Vale, and that's what I want to be. And if you can't accept that … I'm not going to stay here while you tell me how wrong I am and try to break up Pyrrha and me to set me up with a nice local girl. I don't want to go, Mom, but I will."

Mom stared at him. "Are you really happier at that school than you would be here, with us?"

"Yes," Jaune said with simple finality.

It sounded strange, borderline absurd really, to think that he was happier at the school being trained to fight monsters; where he had been told that all of the monsters were being directed by an immortal mistress of the monsters who could never be stopped, only delayed; where magic was real and the boundaries of what he had thought were possible were daily being rolled backwards before his eyes, even as the danger and the risk daily increased also. It seemed ridiculous that he should be happier there than he was in the peaceful town where nothing ever changed from day to day, but … but it was true.

He was a part of something at Beacon, a part of something bigger than himself and his own desires; at Beacon, he was useful and needed and wanted, all words that had never been used to describe him when he lived here. At Beacon, he was nobody's son and nobody's kid brother; at Beacon, he was Jaune Arc.

"I love you, Mom; I love all of you … but I couldn't ever be as happy here as I am at Beacon."

It was clear that his mother wasn't happy with that answer, but it was also clear that she didn't take his warning as an idle threat. "I'm sorry to hear that," she murmured. "I won't say anything more about it, but … I'm afraid I really can't say the same for your father or sisters."

"Right," Jaune murmured, the word dying as it left his mouth, until it was left to crawl its way past his lips. He dry washed his hands for a moment as he looked around. "I don't suppose that you need any help in here?"

"No, Jaune," Mom said. "If you're only going to be staying a few days, then you're as good as a guest, so get on out of here and let me work. Why don't you go and see if your brothers-in-law are inside yet?"

Right. His brothers-in-law. That was something to look forward to. "Okay, Mom," he said, hoping his voice didn't sound too strangled.

You can do this. You can do this. He had stood up to Cardin Winchester, he had faced the grimm and the White Fang, he had crossed blades with Cinder Fall, he had faced Salem herself for crying out loud; like he had anything to be afraid of from Rueben or Chester.

Of course, Cardin and Cinder and Salem hadn't been married to his older sisters.

Nevertheless, he could do this. He had handled way worse than this since leaving home. He wasn't the same kid anymore. He had found himself, he had grown up, and he was not going to let them push him around!

Those were Jaune's thoughts as he pushed open the door into the kitchen and stepped out.

Ruben and Chester were already waiting for him in the dining room.

Chester Heatherfield was River's husband, and he was standing beside her, with one arm around her waist, whispering in her ear. He was a little shorter than Jaune, about the same height as Pyrrha, with most of his brown hair concealed beneath the blue and white bandana wrapped around his head, from which only a little hair descended into view. The stubble on his cheeks had been threatening to turn into a beard when Jaune had left home, but he had shaved since then, and now, his cheeks were disconcertingly smooth — Jaune remembered that River had been complaining he was getting itchy to kiss, so maybe that had something or everything to do with it. He was wearing shorts, revealing a pair of hairy legs between there and his long dark socks. He was the town postman, and he was still wearing his blue postman's blazer with the crest of the Royal Mail stitched onto his breast pocket.

Ruben Meade was Rouge's husband and about the same height and build as Cardin, maybe just a little bit bigger. He had always dwarfed everyone around him as far back as Jaune could remember. He had brown hair, close-cropped to the back and sides of his head, with hazel eyes and strong, firm features. His plaid shirt stretched taut over his rippling, muscular chest, and his arms appeared on the verge of ripping through the rolled-up sleeves at any moment, as did his legs through his blue jeans.

Ruben's father managed the farm for Dad — not that Dad didn't do any work on the farm, but not as much as he would have had to if he hadn't employed someone to help him with it — and since he had been married to Rouge, everyone kind of took it for granted that he was going to inherit the farm when Dad died. It was another sign that nobody thought that Jaune would be capable of taking on the responsibility, but it was not one that bothered him; he didn't want to run the farm; he didn't want to come back here and take over the family land. This wasn't where he saw himself, not even in twenty or thirty years' time. If Ruben wanted it, then he was welcome to it.

Ruben was leaning against the dining room wall, some distance away from Rouge, who was still organising the laying of the table. His foot tapped impatiently upon the wooden floor.

It was Violet who saw Jaune first as he came out of the kitchen. "Jaune!" she cried.

All other pairs of eyes turned towards him.

"Jauney!" Ruben cried, peeling himself off the wall, a grin upon his solid features as he advanced upon Jaune. "Good to see you again."

Jaune cleared his throat. "It's, uh, it's good to see you again too, Ruben. Chester."

"Jaune," Chester said, with a nod of his head. "Heard you made it all the way to that school."

"Yeah," Jaune said. "Yeah, I did."

Ruben laughed. "You sure you didn't get lost on the way, spend a few months hiding somewhere before you came back?"

"No," Jaune sighed. "No, I didn't. I made it there just fine."

"And they let you in?" Ruben asked. He raised his fists in front of his face. "Well, if you've been to that fancy fightin' school, why don't you show me somethin'?"

"Aw, come on, man, you can't start a fight in here," Chester said. "The girls are workin' hard to set this table, and you want to go bust it up? Where are we gonna eat dinner if you do that?"

"Oh, we ain't gonna fight; we just gonna mess around a little," Rueben assured him.

"Ruben," Rouge sighed. "Stop it."

Ruben ignored her. "Come on, little Jauney," he urged. "Show me something; put 'em up."

"N-no, Ruben," Jaune said, shaking his head.

He didn't want to mess around; he certainly didn't want to fight. If he activated his aura, he was pretty sure that he could punch Ruben clear across the room, big guy or not, but like Chester had said, everyone had worked hard to set the table for dinner, and it would be a shame to ruin it by breaking everything.

"What's the matter?" Ruben asked. "Aren't you some kind of hero now? Show me what you got!"

He started lashing out with both fists, not throwing punches, but tapping Jaune on the side of the head.

Jaune squirmed, shrinking backwards, raising his hands defensively, covering his face.

Ruben laughed. "Is that what they're teaching you at that school? How to cower like a girl?"

"Oh, for God's sake," Kendal spat. "Rouge, Sky, are you just going to let this happen?"

"Yes, and so are you," Sky declared. "Ruben's right; how does he expect to survive at Beacon if he can't handle this?"

Jaune gritted his teeth. So that was it, huh? They were testing him? They wanted to prove to him that he wasn't good enough, wasn't strong enough? This was supposed to show him that he was wrong? Well, if this was a test then he'd show them the answer.

He straightened up and activated his aura.

Ruben threw a punch, harder than the others, coming in straight for Jaune's face.

Ruben's face struck Jaune upon the cheek. Jaune barely felt it; while being struck by someone using aura hurt despite the lack of real injury, being hit by someone who was not using aura felt … it felt like being touched on the cheek by comparison.

Ruben on the other hand, recoiled with a cry of pain, clutching his hand. "What the—?"

"That's what they taught me at Beacon," Jaune said.

Silence fell in the room. Sky's eyes were wide. A smirk pricked at the corner of Kendal's mouth. River's eyebrows rose into her bangs.

"Like Chester said, you shouldn't be messing around in the dining room," said River.

It was at that moment that Pyrrha returned with Saphron and Terra.

XxXxX​

Pyrrha and Terra — led by Saphron, although the way down the corridor was not difficult to find — returned to the spacious dining room to find the table laid out and waiting for them. The long walnut table was covered by a pristine white tablecloth, on which had been set out fourteen places — Pyrrha recalled that Terra had mentioned something about her son getting to sleep and assumed that the child would not be joining them — with blue willow-pattern plates in a faux-Mistralian style sat upon wicker mats with cutlery set down upon either side.

In the centre of the table, Pyrrha could already see that great bowls with ladles sticking out had been set up and down the table, and an aroma of assorted smells wafted out of them to engulf the room in sensations that set Pyrrha's mouth watering.

Jaune and his mother had obviously finished their conversation in the kitchen, because Jaune was outside with all of his sisters whom Pyrrha had so far met, along with two men whom she had not but whom she presumed to be the brothers-in-law. One of them, a man with a bandana tied around his head and wearing shorts, had his arm around River's waist. The other, a rather large man in a plaid shirt and jeans, was clutching at his hand as though he had been stung.

He was standing quite close to Jaune, who was standing straight and with the glow around him of having activated his aura.

What was going on just now?

"Is everything okay in here?" Saphron asked.

"Everything's fine," Rouge said quickly. "Ruben, Chester, this is Jaune's girlfriend, Miss Pyrrha Nikos. Pyrrha, this is my husband, Ruben, and River's husband, Chester."

Chester nodded his head towards her. "Pleased to meet you ma'am."

Pyrrha smiled. "Please, sir, call me Pyrrha."

"Reckon you can call me Chester then, Miss Pyrrha," Chester said.

Ruben opened and closed the hand he had been clutching, as though he were trying to get the feeling back into it. "Jaune's girlfriend, huh?" he said. He smirked. "Who would have believed it? I'm still not sure that I do."

Pyrrha smiled thinly. "Nevertheless, it is the truth, however strange it may seem."

"Is that right?" Ruben asked. He whistled appreciatively. "You are one lucky boy, Jauney."

"Don't I know it," Jaune said, a touch of nervous laughter entering his voice.

He began to walk around the room towards her, even as Rouge looked away.

Jaune's mother chose that very fortuitous moment to emerge out of the kitchen, carrying a tray piled high with fried chicken covered in a crispy brown coat. The smell of them only added to the delicious smells that were tugging at Pyrrha's nostrils.

"Who's hungry?" Mrs. Arc asked cheerfully, oblivious to everything that had been going on in the dining room beforehand. "Sit down, everyone; I'm sure that Gold will be along any minute now."

"Thanks, Mom," River said.

"Yeah, thanks a lot," Kendal added.

Everyone began to sit down: the seat at the head of the table was left open, presumably for Mister Arc himself, while the seat on the left of that was also left vacant, and Pyrrha guessed that was for Mrs. Arc once she was done bringing everything out of the kitchen; Ruben took the seat on the right-hand side of the head of the table, with Rouge sitting next to him; Saphron grabbed the seat next to the empty place left for her mother and held a chair out next to her for Terra.

Jaune caught Pyrrha's eye as she moved towards the table, and gave her a slightly apologetic smile.

She smiled back and hoped that she was able to convey by it that she had no hard feelings about anything that had happened so far. Rather, she understood much better now why he might have wanted her to come with him in the first place.

Although, when she thought back to Sunset's blithe assurance that of course Jaune's family would fall in love with her, it did afford her a certain wry amusement.

If only she knew.

Not that I'll tell her; she'd probably get quite incensed about the whole thing; I'm not sure an incandescent Sunset turning up at the door with her jacket on fire so that she looks like an avenging fury would do much good.

Hopefully, I can win some hearts and minds by the time she arrives to research Jaune's family history, or there really will be trouble.

Pyrrha could not think that Sunset would be as restrained as she had been so far.

Jaune pulled out the chair next to him for her, or at least, she assumed it was for her since he was looking at her as he pulled it out; however, before he could actually invite her to sit in it Violet had slipped into the seat.

"Thank you, Jaune," she chirruped.

Jaune looked at Pyrrha, who gave a slight shake of her head. No need to make an issue of it; it would be as petty as your sister's being.

"Uh, right," Jaune said, as he started to sit down. Violet beamed at him, before sticking her tongue out at Pyrrha, leaving Pyrrha to wonder just how old she was.

"Hey, Pyrrha," Kendal said, from the seat opposite Violet. "There's a seat free over here." She patted the seat opposite Jaune, across the table from him, and kept her hand there so that nobody else could take it as Pyrrha made her way over.

"Thank you, Kendal," Pyrrha said, trying to ignore Violet's thunderous face as she sat down opposite Jaune.

The pleasure that she felt as he reached for her hand across the table was mixed on this occasion with a frisson of satisfaction, even if that same sense of satisfaction made her feel a little ashamed of herself for how unbecoming it was.

River and Sky took seats opposite one another, respectively to the right of Jaune and the left of Pyrrha, with Chester sitting down next to River at the very end of the table. All the spaces were now filled save three: Mr. and Mrs. Arc's places at the head of the table and on its right respectively — Mrs. Arc gravitated towards the seat on the right, confirming Pyrrha's guess, although she did not yet sit down — and one at the bottom, opposite Chester. There was no place laid at the foot of the table, but everything was laid out in that opposite space, so clearly somebody was expected.

Mrs. Arc cast her eye down the seated family. "Now is everyone…?" She sighed. "Now where is—?"

"Coming Mom," came a voice from the stairs as someone who could only be Aoko, the final and previously unseen Arc sister, tumbled into view. Almost literally tumbled, as she must have tripped on something on the stairs because she emerged with a startled cry of alarm and seemed in grave danger of falling flat on her face. However, she managed to just about keep her footing and, after hopping a few paces forwards, came to a stop. "Nailed it."

"Aoko, you're late," Rouge said primly. "And what are you wearing?"

Aoko Arc was a scrawny young woman, smaller even than Weiss Schnee and with absolutely no meat on her bones at all; Pyrrha could have put her hands around her arms and legs quite easily. She was dressed in an oversized blue t-shirt — very oversized; it was hanging off her — with the word 'Allegedly' printed on it in white letters and a pair of black short shorts about the length of Pyrrha's miniskirt. She was completely barefoot. Her hair was the shortest of any member of the Arc family — including Jaune — cut in a bowl that barely descended past her ears, and she wore a pair of round, thick-framed black spectacles that gave her a slightly owlish look as she looked at her elder sister.

"This is comfortable, and I work best when I'm comfortable," she said. "Besides, it's not like we have company."

"Terra's been here for three days," Saphron pointed out, but not unkindly.

Aoko blinked. "Hi, Terra. How's, um, you know … the little guy with a big head…"

"Our son, Adrian?" Saphron suggested.

"Yeah. Him."

Terra chuckled. "He's fine. He's asleep upstairs."

"Great, sleep is necessary to the proper functioning of the body," Aoko said as she wandered over to the free seat at the foot of the table and sat down. "Hey, Jaune," she said, as casually as if he'd just been to the bathroom and it had only been a few minutes since they last saw one another.

"Hey, Aoko," Jaune said, apparently not finding this unusual.

"I got the cheese puffs myself."

"Uh, right," Jaune said. "Sorry about that."

River smiled even as she rolled her eyes. "You hadn't noticed he was gone, had you?"

Aoko frowned. "'Gone'?" She blinked. "Wait, there was a message, months ago, Atlesian girl, begins with a … Vesper?"

"Twilight Sparkle?" Jaune suggested.

"Yes, yes, Twilight Sparkle, theories on robotics, very interesting, messaged me, mentioned you. I don't remember what she said."

"Is this making any sense to you, Jaune?" asked River.

"Yeah, Twilight Sparkle, I know her," Jaune said. "She's an Atlas student who's been studying at Beacon for this year; she found out that I was Aoko's brother, and she sent her a message to let her know that I'd made it and I was okay."

"You knew?!" Kendal demanded. "You knew where Jaune was this entire time, and you didn't say anything to the rest of us?"

"I didn't pay much attention," Aoko said. "When I'm busy, I just sort of skim through my messages."

Before anyone could say anything in response to that, there was the sound of the front door opening and footsteps in the hallway.

"Sorry I'm late," a gruff voice announced. "That new hole on the fairway was a little tougher than I'd thought, and then Archie offered me a drink, and it would have been—"

A man entered the dining room and stopped in his tracks. He stared, and it didn't take Pyrrha long to realise that he was staring at Jaune.

Jaune got to his feet. His hands were trembling slightly, and Pyrrha so very badly wanted to take him by both hands to comfort him, to reassure him that she was here and that it would all be okay, but she couldn't, not here, not in front of his whole family like this. She could only watch as he shook with nerves.

"Hi, Dad," he said.

Mr. Arc was a heavyset man, muscular but also starting to bulge a little at the waist. His hair had mostly turned to grey — only a few golden streaks remained — and was in any case very short and mostly gone from the top of his head, but his eyes remained the same vibrant blue of all the Arcs. His face was lined with years or cares or both and covered lightly with a coating to stubble. He was casually dressed, in a t-shirt of dull gold and a pair of corduroys, and the muscle that still corded his arms was the only real clue that he had once been a huntsman.

"Jaune," he said after a moment. "I wasn't expecting you."

"No," Jaune murmured. He looked down. "I should have called."

"It's no big deal. Your room's still here, and it's not like there's ever a food shortage in this house," Mr. Arc said, with surprising ease in his voice; at least, it was surprising to Pyrrha. He took a couple of steps forward. "But you and I are going to need to talk about some things later."

Jaune swallowed. "Yes. Of course."

"Now, sit down; you look like you're about to collapse," Mr. Arc said. He walked towards the table. "Anyway, hi, kids."

"Hi, Dad," chorused the Arc sisters.

He smiled fondly, but stopped as he reached Pyrrha, casting a shadow over her. "Hello, and who might you be, Miss—"

"Nikos," Pyrrha said, as she pushed back her chair and got to her feet. "Pyrrha Nikos, I … I'm here with your son, sir." She bowed her head. "It's an honour to meet you."

"Please, Miss, none of the Mistral manners," Mister Arc said. "I was on a team with a Mistralian girl who was always so prim and proper; it used to drive me nuts." He thrust out his hand. "Gold Arc, good to meet you, welcome to our home. I take it you've already met my wife and kids?"

Pyrrha took his hand gently. "Yes, I've had the pleasure."

"Then you've met the best parts of the family already," Mister Arc said, a smile appearing on his face. "So, you're here with Jaune, huh? I guess he must be doing something right." He let go of Pyrrha's hand and turned away, leaving her cheeks to burn unnoticed as he went to the head of the table and kissed his wife. "Evening, honey; sorry I'm late."

"It's alright, dear, but if we don't get started soon, then everything's going to get cold."

"And we wouldn't want that now, would we?" Mister Arc said, as he sat down at the head of the table. "Sky, would you mind saying grace?"

"Sure thing, Dad," Sky said, as everyone at the table bowed their heads and held out their hands.

It took Pyrrha a moment to realise what they were doing; she only really understood when Kendal tapped her on the right hand and indicated what everyone else was doing: holding their right hand out, palm upwards, and placing their left hands in the open palms of the person to their left. In that way, they joined hands in a chain … except that Sky was very pointedly refusing to offer her hand to Pyrrha, something that either no one noticed or no one wanted to comment on. Pyrrha contented herself with taking Kendal's hand and placing her other hand upon her knee.

She bowed her head and closed her eyes.

"We give thanks for the food at our table, for the warmth of our fire, and for the shelter of our home," Sky said. "We give thanks for our family, and especially for the return of our brother Jaune, who has come home after too long away. We give thanks for the fact that we have somewhere to come back to where we will always belong. For what we are about to receive, may we be truly grateful."

"Thanks, Mom," Violet said. "Now let's eat!"

The food really was delicious. Pyrrha probably wouldn't have eaten so much if Kendal — "Try the chilli; it's delicious." — hadn't been sitting next to her, but she ended up having at least a taste of everything and a great deal of some things. The chilli was hot and spicy in just the right ways, the chicken was crisp without and succulent within, the potatoes crumbled at the touch of a fork.

"This really is excellent food, ma'am," Pyrrha said.

"Thank you, dear," Mrs. Arc said, coolly but politely. "I'm glad you like it."

Excited chatter surrounded the table as the Arc siblings dug in to the meal that their mother had prepared, until Aoko — who looked to be scribbling some equations on a napkin with one hand even while she shovelled melted cheese and potato into her mouth with her other hand — said, "So, Jaune, where did you go?"

The table could not have fallen more silent if she had just announced her plans to go out and commit murder. Chester began a very intense and thorough study of his potatoes, bowing his head and not looking at anything or anyone. Ruben looked down at his hand and opened and closed it reflexively.

Aoko glanced upwards. "Sorry, I know that Twilight's message probably told me, but like I said, I wasn't paying attention."

Kendal's mouth twitched into a momentary kind of smile. Sky scowled. Saphron looked as though she'd rather be somewhere else.

Rouge cleared her throat. "Aoko, that isn't—"

"I've been at Beacon Academy," Jaune said, looking down the table towards his sister. "I'm training to become a huntsman."

"Like Dad?" Aoko murmured. "Cool."

"No, it's not cool," Sky growled. "Don't encourage him!"

Aoko blinked owlishly as she briefly looked up from whatever she was scribbling. "Does he need encouragement…? Didn't you just say you'd been there already?"

"This isn't really appropriate for the dinner table—" Rouge tried to interject.

"He's been there," Sky declared. "He's not going back."

"I'm sitting right here!" Jaune exclaimed, waving his arms to emphasise the point. "And I am going back, for the next three years until I graduate."

"No, you're not!" Sky snapped. "You shouldn't have gone in the first place, and you're certainly not going back. You're going to pack your so-called girlfriend back home, and you're going to stay right here where you belong."

Jaune stared at her across the half-eaten dishes. "No," he said.

Sky frowned. "'No'?"

"No," Jaune repeated. "I'm not going to break up with Pyrrha, and I'm not going to stay here; I'm going back to Beacon, and you can't stop me."

Pyrrha smiled inwardly. She didn't know for sure, but she thought that Sky might have expected her brother to fold so easily at her first push; she had no idea how strong he had become in the intervening months. That was part of the reason why she did not — and would not — say anything: he didn't need her help anymore.

The other reason was that she felt that he wouldn't want it. This was his family and his fight.

And his chance to show them what sort of a man he was now.

"Please be reasonable, Jaune," Rouge said, using a definition of reasonable that Pyrrha's mother might have approved of. "Beacon isn't the place for you."

"But it is," Jaune said. "I'm part of a team, I have friends for the first time in my life—"

"Jaune," Violet said, her tone greatly offended.

Jaune looked discomfited by that. "Friends outside of my family, I mean," he corrected himself. "People who weren't obliged to like me, people who didn't have to give a damn about me … but they do. Beacon is the place for me; it's the place I've found, the place where I belong. It's … it's home to me now."

"This is your home," Sky insisted. "And we're your family, and we want you back."

"And what about what I want?" Jaune said. "This is the most important thing I'll ever do in my whole life, and you want to just take it away from me? Why?"

"How about you stop being so selfish and think about other people for a change?" Sky demanded.

If there was anything that Sky could have said to break Pyrrha's resolve to let Jaune fight his own battle on this occasion, it was that. Selfish? Selfish? How … how dare she? How dare she even suggest that she knew Jaune when she obviously had no idea what kind of a person he was? He was one of the most generous, selfless people that Pyrrha knew; the very essence of his soul reflected it; he risked his life to defend the lives of others and support the people he cared about, and for that, she called him selfish.

Beneath the table, Pyrrha's hands clenched into fists, and she felt righteous indignation rushing up her throat while hastily writing out a very sternly worded speech.

Jaune looked every bit as flabbergasted by the audacity of Sky's remark, but he was quick thinking enough to cut off Pyrrha before she said anything. "'Self'… I'm training to become a huntsman. I'm fighting to protect the world from darkness."

"The world isn't your home; this is," Sky insisted.

Jaune looked as though he were momentarily rendered speechless. "Do you… do you really think that this town is the only place in Vale, in Remnant, that matters? What about Shion, where we used to go on vacation? What about Vale, where we sell all our crops? Don't they deserve to be protected? Don't the people who live there deserve to survive when the grimm come?"

"If the grimm come," Sky said. "I've never seen one, and neither has anybody else that I know."

There was a grinding sound to Pyrrha's right that turned out to be Kendal grinding her teeth. Sky didn't notice.

"I think the threat of the grimm is exaggerated by the people who run the huntsman academies so that they can take people like you away from their homes—"

"Sky, shut your mouth, or you're going to end up with fewer teeth than me," Kendal snarled.

River's eyes widened. "Kendal…"

"Kendal, please, let's not have any language like that at the dinner table," Mrs. Arc murmured.

"Kendal, honey, come on—" Mr. Arc began.

"No, Dad," Kendal said as she stood up. "How can you sit there and let Sky run her mouth off like that? You were a huntsman; you know what the world is like out there, so how can you listen to these … these lies!"

"Maybe the fact that Dad isn't arguing means that they're not lies," Sky said.

Kendal's mouth contorted into a snarl. "You have no idea what you're talking about!" she yelled, as spittle flew from her mouth to land on Pyrrha's cheek. "You have no idea. … Do you think that this town is safe because it's special? Because the world isn't that dangerous after all? Because we're lucky? This stupid town is safe because people like Jaune and Pyrrha put their lives on the line every day to keep it safe, and sometimes, they die!"

She gasped, covering her mouth as though she were about to throw up. There were tears in the corners of her blue eyes, and Pyrrha wondered if this was the first time she had really understood the risks involved in the life that Jaune was leading. She shook her head.

"Worry about him if you want," Kendal said. "I worry. But don't talk to Jaune like he's an idiot because he's not. He's the bravest of us all."

She turned away.

"Where are you going, Kendal?" Mrs. Arc said. "We haven't finished dinner yet."

"I can't," Kendal said. "I … I can't sit here."

She started to walk around the table, and although Mrs. Arc looked as though she wanted to say or do something more to stop her, a hand on her arm from Mr. Arc and a shake of his head prevented her.

Kendal sounded as though she was sobbing as she walked up the stairs.

Mr. Arc sighed. "Sky, at some point tonight, I expect you to apologise to your sister."

Sky gasped in outrage. "'Apologise'? She's the one who's acting like a big baby."

"You've upset her, and you're going to make it right."

"I didn't—"

"I want you to make up with her," Mr. Arc said heavily. "Do you understand?"

Sky wilted under his gaze, looking down at her hands rather than meet his gaze. "Yes, sir. I'll say I'm sorry." She glanced at Jaune. "How come Jaune doesn't have to apologise for running away? Or for breaking Crocea Mors?"

"Sky!" Jaune squawked in a strangled voice.

That, Pyrrha thought, was a blow so low that it would be illegal in most tournaments.

"Your brother and I are going to have a full and frank talk about everything," Mr. Arc said. "But that doesn't excuse the way that you've been behaving."

"I want Jaune home!" Sky exclaimed. "I want our family back before we have to bury our brother; I want him here where he belongs instead of embarrassing us in front of the whole town playing make believe with this outsider. I want things back the way they were before, is that so wrong?"

"And you say that I'm the selfish one?" Jaune asked. "Come on, Sky, the way things were before was you treating me like a pet who had to be watched all the time unless I burned down the house."

"Well—" Ruben began.

"Hush, Ruben," Rouge said. She paused for a moment. "If you wanted to prove to us that we had misjudged you, then perhaps you were right to do so. Perhaps we did underestimate your competence. But now that you have proven yourself, can you not come home? We can be better than we were before. What you're doing at Beacon … it just isn't done around here, and it's so dangerous too."

"It's a risk I'm willing to take," Jaune said. "I've already spoken to Mom about this, and … if you guys can't accept my choice, then I'm not going to stick around here to be lectured about how wrong I am. Because I'm not. I've seen what's out there, Sky; it's not a myth, it's not exaggerated, it's real, and it's dangerous, and it's evil—"

"You're doing a great job selling this," River muttered.

"But I'm fighting it," Jaune said. "I'm fighting it alongside my friends, and together, we can make a difference. We've made one already; we helped defend Vale when it most needed defending. We did that, Pyrrha and my friends and I; we stood in the Breach and we didn't let the grimm pass. We did that. I did that with them. And I won't turn my back on the people who are counting on me. No matter what you say; you can think I'm stupid or deluded or anything else … but I know what I am, and I know where I belong, and it isn't here. Not anymore."

Saphron smiled. "Since when did you get able to stand up to Sky and Rouge put together?"

Jaune raised his head a little in pride. "Since I found a cause worth taking a stand over."

Pyrrha smiled too, to let him know how proud she was of him.

Sky, on the other hand, looked as though Jaune's words were upsetting her nearly as much as her own words earlier had upset Kendal. "You talk about turning your back, but you're turning—"

Mister Arc's hand slammed down into the table with a solid thud that stilled all other sounds. "Okay, that's enough," he said. "Absolutely enough. The dinner table is no place for arguments. You're insulting your mother and all the work that she's put in to get this dinner ready for us. Jaune and I are going to talk later, and until then, I don't want to hear a single word about this from anyone while we're seated at this table, understood?"

Everyone obeyed him, with the unfortunate side-effect that the rest of the dinner passed in a rather cold and frosty manner. The silence was only really broken when Sky's scroll started to go off.

"Sorry, I've got to take this; it's Sprout," she said apologetically, as she got up from her seat and walked towards the windows to take the call. "What? … And you can't … I know that you're having dinner with your Mom, so am I!" She sighed. "Of course you can't. Sure, fine, I'll go check it out." She snapped her scroll shut. "Sorry, Mom, Dad; duty calls."

"Is everything alright?" asked Mrs. Arc with concern.

"There's a report of a disturbance at the McKinley farm, on the outskirts of town," Sky said. "I'll just go out there, tell them to keep the noise down and stop whatever it is they're doing, and I'll be back before you know it."

"Just be careful," Mrs. Arc said.

Sky grinned. "Come on, Mom, you know this place; what's there to worry about?"

She stepped quickly out of the dining room; Pyrrha could hear her pulling on her shoes in the corridor outside before she heard the door open and then close again shortly after.

The rest of dinner passed in a frosty silence as the plates were cleared; nobody disobeyed Mister Arc's prohibition against raising the matter of Jaune's return to Beacon, but that same prohibition seemed to have stripped anyone of any desire to find anything else to talk about. What little conversation there was was brief and to the point. Rouge looked ashamed of herself, while Violet spent much of dinner glaring at Pyrrha.

Pyrrha herself, although glad that Jaune had taken the stand that he had, found herself wishing that things would be a little less awkward.

And she found herself rather glad when dinner was over, although she wasn't sure what would come next.

"Miss Nikos," Mister Arc said, "I suppose my son promised that you could stay here for your visit?"

Pyrrha wondered if she was about to be thrown out onto the street. It wasn't an insurmountable problem if she was — although she might have chosen different outfits if she'd known that she would have to camp out — but the fact that she trusted Jaune to withstand the pressures of his family didn't mean that she wanted to leave him completely alone to face said pressures.

"Yes," she said. "For the duration of our stay."

Thankfully, Jaune's father seemed to have no desire to turf her out of his home, for he said, "I'm afraid we don't have any guest bedrooms free right now, but there's a camp bed in Kendal's room; you can sleep in there. River can show you the way."

"Dad," River murmured. "Are you sure that's such a good idea? Kendal seemed pretty upset."

Pyrrha was glad that River had said it and, thus, spared her from having to say it herself and presume a knowledge of Kendal Arc that her father didn't possess. She had seemed very upset; would she want the intrusion of a stranger into her privacy at such a time?

Would I? Probably not.

Nevertheless, Mister Arc said, "Just show Miss Nikos the way; this is for the best." He rose heavily to his feet. "And as for you, Jaune: come with me. It's time for us to talk."

Looking at his face then, Pyrrha almost asked if she could be a part of this talk if only so that Jaune wasn't alone, even if she didn't end up saying anything; almost, but did not. It wasn't her place, and Jaune had no need of her to hold his hand every step of the way.

You can do this, Jaune; I know you can.

River pushed her chair back as she got up. "I'll show Pyrrha upstairs, then come back to help with the dishes, okay Mom?"

"Don't worry, dear," Mrs. Arc said. "I'm sure that Rouge, Saphron, Violet, and I will be fine."

"I'll be quick," River said regardless. "You going to be okay by yourself, honey?"

"I'll make do," Chester assured her.

"Great," she said. "Pyrrha, you ready?"

"Of course," Pyrrha said, as she too got up. "That is, if you don't—"

"You're a guest, remember?" Saphron said. "Guests don't do housework."

In my family, family doesn't do housework either, Pyrrha said. Which I suppose means I should stop asking to be given chores that I've never had to do in my life.

It would be a fine thing if she were to break Mrs. Arc's dishes, after all.

She allowed River to lead her out of the dining room and up the stairs. They were dimly lit, making it easy to see how Aoko had managed to trip and nearly fall down them, although Pyrrha did not trip herself. As they arrived at the top of the stairs and reached an equally dimly lit landing, River stopped and turned to face Pyrrha.

"I never thought I'd see that happen," she said.

Pyrrha frowned. "See what?"

"Jaune stand up to anyone like that," River said. "Especially not Sky and Rouge together. He's … he's not the same as when he went away."

"No," Pyrrha murmured. "I can believe that. He's not the same as when he first arrived at Beacon either."

"Did you have something to do with that?"

Pyrrha felt her cheeks start to heat up a little. "I … I'd like to think so, a little," she said. "But the truth is, I think that we've all had a little to do with it."

"'We' … you mean the girls in that picture?"

"His teammates, yes."

"Are they all as nice as you?"

"Um … more or less," Pyrrha murmured. "Uh, River … can I ask you something?"

River snorted. "Do you want to know why I picked you and nobody else did?"

Pyrrha's face was definitely burning by now, she could feel it. "I … that is … I know it sounds pathetic, but—"

"Nah," River said. "I'd probably want to know as well. But the real answer is … I don't know, really. Maybe it's just this weird thing where I'm certain I know your face from somewhere. I'm sorry, that wasn't a great answer, was it?"

"It's the truth," Pyrrha said. "I can't ask for more than that."

River sighed. "I'm sorry about my twin sister. She's a bit … she really does love Jaune; she just…"

"She wants what's best for him, even if he doesn't agree," Pyrrha said.

"Yeah, that about sums it up."

"And you?" Pyrrha asked.

River was quiet for a moment. "Growing up, Jaune was always the sweet one. I don't know if that was entirely because he was sweet or because he was scared to be anything else. We didn't … we kind of wanted another sister, and sometimes, we treated him like one anyway, and we didn't exactly care what he thought about it. But he never got mad, and he never did anything, so we thought … we all love Jaune. We all love our family; it's probably the one thing that we can all agree on: we love our family, and we love our baby brother. And I'm not going to lie: the thought of him dying scares me. I can see where Sky's coming from, and Rouge; a part of me wants to agree with both of them. But Jaune isn't the same kid whose hair we used to put in pigtails, and I'm worried that if we don't accept his decision … then we're going to lose him."

Pyrrha said nothing, although based on what Jaune had said, she was absolutely right.

"Do you take care of him?" River asked. "You and your friends?"

"We take care of each other," Pyrrha said. She hesitated. "Yes, I try to protect him."

"Good," River said. "Terra says you're something awesome so that … that makes me feel a lot better. Thank you and, once again, I'm sorry again about Sky."

"You're welcome," Pyrrha said. "And there's no need to apologise."

"Come on," River said. "I'll show you the rest of the way."

"I have to say," Pyrrha murmured. "I'm a little surprised at a house this size not having any guest bedrooms."

River laughed. "Yeah, I can't really argue with that. The truth is, there was a time when it would have; you would have had a really nice guest room to sleep in, one of the bigger rooms, actually, even though it barely saw any use. But then—"

"You started getting married?" Pyrrha guessed. "I mean, you and your sister do still live here with your husbands, don't you?"

"Yep," River confirmed. "Are you surprised?"

"It is a slightly more traditional arrangement than I would have thought to find in Vale," Pyrrha replied.

In Mistral, it would have been far from unusual; in high and lowborn families alike, it was common for the spouse of the higher status family to move in with their in-laws. Certainly, now that the situation with her mother was mostly resolved, she expected they would live in the family mansion in Mistral once they were wed and graduated both — when they were not in the field, at least. But sufficient Atlesian and Valish entertainment had penetrated Mistralian culture to make it clear that in other kingdoms, the opposite attitude prevailed and that children were expected to move out of their parents' homes and start new lives upon their marriages.

"This is a traditional place, in case you hadn't noticed," River pointed out. "We like to keep the family close. Mostly. When Saphron wanted to move away, see a little of the world … the arguments nearly brought the house down. Perhaps Jaune had the right idea, creeping off in the middle of the night without saying anything. Maybe when Dad dies, Ruben will kick us all out, and we'll have to fend for ourselves, but for now, we all live here, and so do Chester and Ruben. And so will Sky's husband if she ever finds one, and Violet's.

"But, to answer your question, that's not it. There is one guest bedroom, but Saphron and Terra and little Adrian are using that one. Saphron's old room wouldn't have been big enough for the three of them even if I hadn't soundproofed it and turned it into my radio shack — that's my job, by the way: I'm the town DJ, all the music, news, and talk you need." She grinned, although her smile swiftly faded. "There is technically a second guest bedroom — at least it's still called the guest bedroom — but Rouge sleeps there most nights."

"Rouge?" Pyrrha repeated. "Doesn't she share a room with her husband?"

"Sometimes," River said, with a slight sigh. "Since Ruben works and gets in late sometimes, it makes sense for Rouge to sleep alone so that he doesn't disturb her coming home and getting to bed at unsociable hours."

Pyrrha was no expert, and a stranger here, but that had the feel of … not a lie, perhaps, but an excuse. There was some sense in it, but … well, if that were the case, then shouldn't Ruben be using the guest room? He was the one getting in late, after all.

He was also the one doing a hard day's work.

Pyrrha wasn't sure; something about the way that River had said it, the sigh in her voice … did she find that explanation entirely convincing?

But Pyrrha was no expert, and a stranger here, so all she said was, "I see."

"And the last guest room that we had is currently being refurbished," River announced. One hand went to her belly. "As a nursery."

Pyrrha's eyes widened. "Oh my, congratulations!" she gasped. "How…? I mean, if you don't mind me asking, but it doesn't—"

"Show? No, I know. We only just found out. Doc Herring reckons I'm about ten weeks along."

Pyrrha smiled again. "Congratulations once more. Have you told Jaune?"

River chuckled. "In all this excitement, I haven't found the right moment."

"I think almost any moment at dinner would have benefited from some happy news," Pyrrha murmured.

"Is it too bad if I didn't want it to be overshadowed?" River asked.

"No," Pyrrha assured her. "No, not at all. But I'm sure he'll be very happy for you."

"Of course he will," River said. "He's a sweet kid. But anyway, that's why you have to room with Kendal. That, and I don't think Mom is ready for you to room with Jaune just yet."

She led Pyrrha down the corridor, to a room where a light could be seen from under the crack in the doorway. A faded sign, decorated with hand-painted trees and cartoonishly-proportioned bunny rabbits in all the colours of the rainbow, proclaimed that this was Kendal's Room. Another sign, newer but no less faded by years, ordered everyone to Keep Out.

River knocked on the door. "Kendal? Are you okay?"

"What do you want?" Kendal snapped from the other side of the door.

"Dad says that Pyrrha is to sleep in that camp bed in your room," River said.

"I'm sorry to bother you," Pyrrha said.

There was a pause. "It's fine," Kendal said. "You can come on in."

River winced. "I'll leave you to it," she said. "I don't know what's up with her but … good luck."

Thank you, Pyrrha thought, not entirely sincerely, as River headed back down the corridor towards the staircase.

Pyrrha stared at the door for a moment, before deciding that there was really nothing for it but to go through it and see what would happen on the other side. She really didn't want to disturb Kendal when she wanted to be alone, but she didn't have to stay long, only long enough to set down her things. She could go as soon as that was done.

Gingerly, she pushed open the door. A portable lamp, of the sort that were carried by campers or sometimes huntsmen on field missions, sat on a window-facing desk, illuminating the entire room. A large map of Vale covered one entire wall, with red circles and arrows scrawled on it and the entire southeast quadrant around Mountain Glenn scribbled over in thick black lines. There was very little else in the way of decoration; indeed, there was very little else at all, just a wardrobe and a couple of trunks and a half-packed duffle bag. The room was austere; indeed, it looked almost as though nobody lived here at all.

Which was just as well in some ways, since it was not the most spacious place in the house. Indeed, in many ways, it was positively small, although that might have been because, strangely, the camp bed was already set up and indeed made up ready for someone to sleep in. Kendal was sitting on it, her elbows resting on her knees. She looked up at Pyrrha as she came in, and Pyrrha could see at once that she had been crying: her eyes were red and her cheeks blotchy.

"Hey," she said.

Pyrrha stared at her for a moment, until she remembered how rude she was being. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to intrude; I just—"

"It's okay," Kendal said. She wiped at her eyes with one hand. "You're okay." She sniffed. "You can take the real bed."

Pyrrha looked at the fully made-up bed on the left-hand side of the wall. "I couldn't turn you out of your own bed."

"You're not; I sleep on this," Kendal said, patting the camp bed. "It's more … closer to what I'm used to."

Pyrrha, who didn't really understand but also was deeply uncertain of her right to pry, contented herself with saying, "Oh. I see."

Kendal got up off the camp bed and walked towards the desk facing the window. She leaned upon it with both hands, her head bowed down below her shoulders. "How did you manage to sit there and not get angry?"

"At Sky?"

"At the way she was talking such garbage about everything … including everything you stand for," Kendal said. "Doesn't it make you so mad?"

"I don't want to get into arguments with Jaune's family; quite the reverse," Pyrrha said softly. "And besides … her opinion on what I do isn't all that important to me."

Kendal snorted. "Lucky you." She fell silent for a moment. "They don't get it. Sky, Rouge, Violet, River, not even Aoko. Saphron kind of gets it, but even in Argus, she lives a pretty safe life."

Pyrrha nodded slightly. Between Sanctum Academy at one end of the city and the Atlesian military base at the other — she had always found that placement slightly ironic, the old way and the new confronting one another with the city in between — Argus was about as well-protected as any city could be, not to mention the high walls and the seaward-facing shields. "But isn't that a good thing?"

"Yes," Kendal said quickly. "I didn't mean … it's just that even she doesn't really understand. Understand what it's like out there, understand what you and Jaune have to deal with every day, understand … understand how dangerous it is."

"But you … do," Pyrrha murmured.

Kendal straightened up, though she kept her back to Pyrrha as she pulled her green tank top off and threw it roughly onto the camp bed.

Pyrrha couldn't help the gasp that escaped from between her lips. Kendal's back was a morass of scars, broken up only by the concealing line of her bra; they were angry, ugly scars, long and thick and rising in undulations as they descended diagonally from her shoulder towards her hip.

"A beowolf did this," Kendal said. "I was told afterwards it was only a young one. That I was lucky. I didn't feel lucky at the time, or afterwards."

"I don't understand," Pyrrha murmured. "I thought grimm never came here."

"I wasn't here," Kendal said. "I … I am a member of the Survey Corps."

Now Pyrrha understood, at least in part. Every Kingdom had a corps of surveyors, people whose job it was to explore the untamed and uninhabited regions that lay on the fringes of the kingdom's controlled territory or in the spaces between the major settlements; their task was to find places where new settlements could be erected safely, considering the defensive suitability of the location, the climate, health, accessibility, and everything else that might make a settlement viable or otherwise. Their judgement was not always impeccable — witness Mountain Glenn; witness Oniyuri — but a number of thriving towns across the kingdoms of Remnant bore testament to their skill.

"Your aura—" she began.

"I don't have very much of it, apparently," Kendal muttered. "I hope that doesn't say anything about my soul, but it broke after one lousy hit — even if it is the reason that one lousy hit just gave me these scars instead cutting me in two. And the kingdom won't pay for combat training for surveyors; it's not considered worth it, since we aren't supposed to seek out grimm. No, if I see a grimm, my only response is to run like hell. Or have a huntsman escort to … to…"

Pyrrha walked up behind her, and placed a hand upon Kendal's shoulder. She could feel the scars. "Who were they?"

Kendal sniffed. "His name was Manitou. He was from Mistral, but after graduating from Beacon, he'd decided to stick around in Vale. He said … he said he liked the people here. I didn't always work with a huntsman — it costs money, and my superiors don't always appreciate it — but after I got these scars, I got a little bit … nervous, you know. Grimmshy."

"I quite understand," Pyrrha said softly. Honestly, she wasn't sure that she would have the courage to do what Kendal did and walk into grimm-infested territory without either arms — and the training to use them — to defend herself or aura of any significant strength to protect her. Being a huntress was dangerous enough, and the risk of death present enough without taking away both the sword and the bulk of the shield. "There is no shame in wanting to be protected."

"I guess," Kendal murmured. "Anyway, I put out a job, and I got Manitou. He was … he was nice. Charming, obliging … he had a way of making me feel like there was nothing to worry about. My next assignment, I put out another job for an escort, and there he was: Manitou. And the next job after that. I asked him if he was stalking me, and he said, 'No, but I do keep hoping to see you again. I guess I must be pretty lucky.' I asked why he didn't just ask me out, and he asked me if I'd say yes. I told him I would, and so … and so, he asked." She laughed. "He asked if all these missions counted as dates up until this point, and I told him, no, our first date would be after we got back from my assignment."

Pyrrha hesitated. It was fairly clear that this story didn't have the happiest ending. "What … what happened?"

"You're a huntress; you can probably guess."

"The grimm," Pyrrha said softly.

"He told me to run," Kendal said. "He told me that he'd hold them off, and I did what he said … I ran … and I never saw him again. Nobody ever saw him again."

"You never told anyone," Pyrrha said.

"How could I?" Kendal demanded. She turned around, and Pyrrha retreated back a step. "He was a huntsman and an outsider; you saw how Sky treated you. I didn't want to … I couldn't hear them talk about him that way." She wiped at her eyes again. "None of them really get it, not even Saphron … but you get it, don't you?"

Pyrrha nodded. "The world needs good people like Manitou, and like Jaune."

"'Like Jaune,'" Kendal repeated. "I … I know that it's a worthy path he's chosen, and I want him to be able to follow his dreams, but I … as his sister, I'm terrified that one day, Jaune is going to have to be the one to hold off a pack of grimm so that someone like me can run away, that he's going to be the one who never gets seen again."

"I won't let that happen," Pyrrha declared.

Kendal looked her in the eye. "Does it bother you that he might die?"

"Yes," Pyrrha confessed. "There are times when … when it terrifies me, too."

"Then how do you do it? Why do you do it? Why don't you ask him not to do this?"

"Because he'd never forgive me," Pyrrha said. "Because the moment I stop believing in him is the moment that I lose him. I … I've nearly lost him already."

Kendal waited a moment for elaboration that did not come. "How?" she asked. "I mean … are you talking physically or—"

"Emotionally, for the most part," Pyrrha replied, her voice soft and quiet. "I … on our last mission, there was a woman. A dangerous woman. An enemy. I … I wanted to prove that I could beat her."

Kendal frowned. "Prove to who?"

"To myself, mainly," Pyrrha answered. "And to her as well, I think."

"But you couldn't?" Kendal guessed.

"No," Pyrrha confessed. "Her marriage of skill and cunning was greater than I had anticipated; I was … there was a moment when she had me."

She sank down onto the bed, clasping her hands together in her lap. "Jaune … I'd left him behind. Even though I'd promised him already that I would not do so. I so badly wanted to prove myself, to prove that I was stronger than her. And I was fearful; I didn't think that Jaune was any match for our enemy. He was not, he is not, she is so very strong, but … but when he heard me scream, he came to my aid. He didn't hesitate; he didn't care that he was outmatched. He ran to help me. That's … that is when he broke his sword. It's my fault."

"There are worse things to break," Kendal said, with a dismissive wave of one hand. "What happened?"

"Jaune bought me time," Pyrrha explained. "I got something of a second wind, and our enemy retreated." She paused for a moment. "I think that … if he didn't love me so, he would have left me for breaking my promise to him. Gods know that he would have cause to do so. But he didn't, because, I think, I hope, I hope so very, very much, that he does love me so. And so he demanded a new promise from me, one that I cannot, dare not, will not break. I will not fight without him again."

"Even if it's dangerous?"

"Especially when it is dangerous," Pyrrha replied. "The danger is precisely the reason for the promise."

"That … is romantic and terrifying in equal measure," Kendal said. She took pause a while before she went on, "You know … Jaune's lucky in a lot of ways. I hope he gets how lucky he is. My family weren't thrilled when I told them I wanted to be a surveyor, as you can guess; I had to promise that I'd come home regularly, even though I … I don't really enjoy it a lot of the time, the way they talk, the things they think. Jaune's lucky to be away from all of that at Beacon, he doesn't have to put up with this, he doesn't have to wonder if there's something wrong with him because he doesn't have to belong anymore … and he doesn't have to be alone. Huntsmen are lucky to work in teams. Do you love him?"

Pyrrha was momentarily thrown by the abrupt change in subject. "Yes," she said. "I do love him."

Kendal smiled. "I'm guessing that your aura is a lot stronger than mine, and that you've got at least one deadly weapon somewhere in that luggage, so I won't bluster empty threats at you," she said. "Just … don't break his heart, okay? He deserves better than that."

"I'm well aware," Pyrrha assured her. "And that is why I have no intention of being anything but absolutely faithful to him."

Kendal chuckled. "He's the best of us, in a lot of ways. You're lucky to have him."

"Oh, I know," Pyrrha said sincerely. "I feel like the luckiest girl in the world."

XxXxX​

Jaune felt as though his gut had turned to ice as he followed his old man outside into the back garden. It had been easier than he had expected to stand up to Sky — he just had to remember everything that he'd been through since he arrived at Beacon. Even though he couldn't tell them about half of it, the knowledge that there was a truly terrifying world out there and that someone had to protect people like his family from that world had been enough to see him through the contest.

But this … this was his father they were talking about, and even if he'd stepped in to stop the argument between Jaune and Sky, that was no guarantee that he was going to be on Jaune's side now.

Jaune couldn't remember the last time that his father had been on his side. His greatest impression of his father was rather that he, Jaune, had been a disappointment to him. And now, Jaune couldn't even count on his achievements at Beacon to earn his father's respect, because he'd tarnished all of that by both stealing Crocea Mors and then breaking it.

He had no idea what was going to happen now, and he had no idea how he was going to react to it.

His Dad opened the back door and gestured to the wooden step beyond. "Sit down," he said, with a gesture of his hand. "I'll be back in just a second."

"Okay," Jaune murmured, his voice trembling even if his body wasn't. He sat down and waited.

The sun had gone down by now, and only a pale light lingered at the fringes of the eastern horizon while the sky went dark around them.

He wished that he'd gotten the chance to apologise to Pyrrha before this. He shouldn't have brought her here, to be insulted by his family and gawped at by his neighbours. She'd forgive him — he got the impression that she'd forgive him just about anything — but the fact that she would forgive, that she would not be upset about it, in a way, it made him feel worse about the fact that he had got her into this. The fact that she would suffer a lot didn't mean that it was right of him to inflict suffering upon her.

He shouldn't have brought her here, and yet, he couldn't deny that he was still glad that he had. Having her here, being able to look across the table at her, had been a great help in reminding him what he was fighting for when he was trying to fend off Sky's demands.

"Here," Dad said as he reappeared behind Jaune holding two cold bottles of beer in one hand. "Take one."

Jaune looked up. "Dad?"

"You're old enough to kill monsters, you're old enough to have a drink with your old man," Dad said gruffly, and he pressed one of the two bottles into Jaune's hand before he settled heavily on the back step next to his son. It was a wide step, much wider than the door which it led up to, and there was room enough for them to sit together without being pressed together.

Silence prevailed as Dad dug a bottle-opener from out of his pants pocket and cracked his bottle open. He put said opener on the wooden step between himself and Jaune and took a swig.

Jaune opened his own bottle and drank. It was harsher than he had expected, and more bitter. He spluttered a little after swallowing.

"You'll get used to it," Dad said. "Or not. You might not care to."

Jaune didn't say anything. He didn't really understand what was going on here. Hadn't he been called out so that he could be reamed out? Then why wasn't his father yelling at him?

"So," Dad said, still not raising his voice, "you broke the sword, huh?"

Now they were coming to it. Jaune hung his head. "Yeah, I mean yes. I broke it."

"How?"

"Dad?"

"How did you do it? It's a simple question," Dad said. He didn't look at Jaune, but instead kept his eyes pointed towards the horizon where the pale glow of the sun was dying.

"I…" Jaune hesitated, wondering how to describe it. "My opponent, she grabbed the blade, and … I think she must have used her semblance on it, because it was like the metal … it almost melted where she was holding it, and everything about that fell away."

"So it was in battle?"

"Yeah," Jaune said.

"Well then," Dad muttered. "Stuff like that happens sometimes."

Jaune blinked. "Wait … that's it?"

"What did you expect?"

"I don't know, not that," Jaune said. "I thought you'd be mad."

Dad looked at him. "You had your mother in tears for days, and you upset your sisters, but it's my great-grandpa's sword that I should be mad about?"

"When you put it like that…" Jaune trailed off. "I thought that if I told you what I was going to do, then you wouldn't let me go."

"And you were right about that," his father said. "We wouldn't have let you go. Your sisters would have told you to not even think about it. And unlike tonight, you would have listened to them."

Jaune took a deep breath. "Things have changed since I left."

"Have they?" Dad asked sceptically. He was silent for a moment. "So, what's it like? Is it everything that you imagined?"

"No," Jaune said. "It … it's not like that at all."

Dad snorted. "I could have told you that."

"Then why didn't you?" Jaune said. "Dad … why didn't you tell me any of this? You were a huntsman, but I hadn't even heard of aura until Pyrrha explained it to me in the middle of initiation. I had this whole romantic idea about what it was going to be like because you never talked to me about any of it."

"Of course I didn't talk to you about it; do you think I want to remember all the times that I almost died?" Dad said. "I don't talk about it, my grandpa didn't talk about what he went through during the Great War, and if you ever have kids, you aren't going to talk about the things that you did either, because you'll be as glad to put it all behind you as I was.

"And besides," he continued. "I didn't want you to follow in my footsteps. I thought that if I didn't talk about it, if I didn't do anything to help you … you'd give up."

Jaune dreaded to ask the next question, in part because he was fairly certain that he knew the answer, but at the same time, he knew that he had to ask. "You didn't think I could do it, did you?"

"Of course I didn't think you could do it," Dad declared. "You couldn't even rewire a plug, but I was supposed to think that you could fight the grimm? I didn't think you could do it, and I didn't think that you were serious. Being a hero. I thought it was something that you'd grow out of. I mean … why would you want to leave a place like this and risk your life out there?"

Jaune sighed. "You're right," he admitted. "It was stupid. I was stupid. But now … the things that I know, the things that I've seen … I can't turn away from it. Not now. I won't. I'm not a hero, but I fight alongside people who are, and I won't abandon them."

Dad snorted.

"What's so funny?"

"You just reminded me of something grandpa used to say," Dad said. "Like I said, he wouldn't talk about the war much, but when he did, he used to say 'I wasn't a hero, but I served with guys who were.' I think he meant the ones who didn't come back." He drank some more from his beer bottle. "Your sisters want you to come home, your mother wants you to come home … I'd kind of like you to come home. But it's not going to happen, is it?"

"No," Jaune said. "I can't."

"Because of the girl?"

"Because what I'm doing is the right thing to do," Jaune said. He smiled sheepishly. "But, yeah, because of Pyrrha too."

"She must be more than a crush; you brought her to meet your family," Dad said. "I'm sorry that she hasn't had a great reception so far, but … do you love her?"

Jaune nodded. "I do."

"But you're still going to risk your life a half a dozen ways each day?" Dad asked. "Jaune, do you know why I quit being a huntsman?"

"No," Jaune said. "You never told me that." Or anything else.

"My mind was made up when Rouge was born," Dad told him. "Your mother gave her to me to hold, and I looked down, and I thought 'I don't ever want this girl, my little girl, to grow up without a Dad.' And since I couldn't guarantee that I wouldn't die on the job, the only thing to do was to walk away from the job. My family was just … more important to me."

Jaune didn't say anything immediately. As he listened to what his father had said, as he thought about what his father had said, he couldn't help but think of Ruby and her mom. Had Summer Rose been so sure in her abilities that she hadn't believed that she could die, or had she just believed that there were more important things even than ensuring that she'd be there for her daughters?

Probably the second one. She knew about Salem, after all; she probably thought that she was making sure there was a world for Ruby to grow up into, even if her mother wasn't there to see it.

"So you're saying I should quit so that Pyrrha doesn't have to watch me die?"

"I'm saying that if you love her, you won't make her mourn for you."

"And what about me mourning her if something happened to her?" Jaune asked. "She's not going to quit, I don't even need to ask her to know that, and I … no, Dad. I get what you're trying to say, but no. What I'm doing, what I'm involved in … it's so much more important than you know. I'm protecting Vale, I'm protecting my friends, and I'm protecting Pyrrha. And I'm going to keep doing all of those things for as long as I can."

Dad stared at him for a moment. "That school really made a man of you, didn't it? I'm sorry, Jaune."

Jaune's mouth hung open. He apologised? His father had never apologised to Jaune, for anything. "What for?"

"For not thinking that you had it in you," Dad said. "Nobody is going to bring up your leaving Beacon again; I'll make sure of that."

"Really?"

His father nodded. "I can't say that this is what I wanted, but … you're making something of yourself, and that is what I wanted. And if you had to steal from me and run away to do it, then … that's just how it goes sometimes. What are you going to do with the sword?"

"I … I don't know," Jaune admitted. "I wasn't sure what you'd want me to do with it."

"It's your sword now," Dad said. "Not mine, certainly not your great-great-grandfather's. Reforge it, or throw it away and get a new weapon, it's all the same to me, but if an old huntsman can give you one piece of advice: whatever you do, make sure that your weapon fits you, not the ghost of your ancestor. Don't just make it exactly like it was, make it a sword that's yours. Take my advice and thank me for it later."

"I can thank you right now," Jaune said. "I don't really know what a weapon that fits me would mean right now, but … thanks, Dad."

"Right now, you've got no one to thank but yourself," his father said, reaching out to pat Jaune on the shoulder. "I'm proud of you, son."

 

[ScipioSmith]

The Legend of Gaia Ever-Arc​

Pyrrha was awakened by a knock on Kendal's bedroom door. There was no hesitation, no musty remains of sleep that had to be cleared away; she had been asleep, and now, she was awake. As Pyrrha rolled out of bed, she saw that Kendal was exactly the same way, awake and alert at a moment's notice. She guessed that it was their respective paths in life that had taught them to be this way.

As Kendal was awake, and as it was Kendal's door, Pyrrha stood up but otherwise remained where she was, allowing Kendal to answer.

River stood on the other side of the door, wearing dark blue pyjamas with the sleeves a little too long for her and the bottoms a little too short, so that her hands were concealed and her ankles exposed.

"River?" Kendal asked. "It's the middle of the night, what's up?"

"It's the middle of the night," River repeated, "and Sky's not back yet."

"Really?"

River shook her head. "No. I've waited up for her — I wanted to talk to her about dinner — but she hasn't come."

Kendal frowned. "Yeah, but … so? Come on, River, this is Alba Longa."

"I don't know what it means," River said. "But I … you can call it a twin sense or something if you like, but I'm worried. What's out there at the McKinley farm that could be keeping her for so long?"

"You don't think—" Pyrrha began, speaking very softly and very quietly.

"I don't know what to think," River said.

"God help us," Kendal murmured.

"I don't want it to be true," River said. "It's just that, when she's delayed, Sky usually calls, but … but that stuff doesn't happen here, right? This place is safe."

"It's not safe; it's just lucky," Kendal muttered. "And luck runs out. Have you told Dad?"

"No," River said. "I was hoping that…" She glanced over Kendal's shoulder to look at Pyrrha. "You're good, right? That's what Terra said, that you're good. You know what you're doing."

"I would like to think so," Pyrrha said softly, because if River's fears were right, then this town could be in a lot of trouble. If any number of grimm had suddenly appeared, on the edges of a town with no defences, inhabited by people who no longer felt they needed them … she would do what she could, and Jaune too, but there was only so much that the two of them could do.

But they would do what they could, until they could do no more. For Sky, for anyone, regardless of whether they liked them or not. That, after all, was the duty of a huntsman.

"I probably shouldn't … will you go and check it out?" River asked. "Dad hasn't picked up a weapon since Rouge was born, but you … you're supposed to be good. If it all turns out to be nothing, then I'm sorry for waking you up but—"

"I'll go," Pyrrha said, because that was also a huntress' duty. "Just let me put my boots on, and I'll be ready to leave."

"You don't have any armour to put on or anything?" asked Kendal.

"I do, and it would be ideal to wear it," Pyrrha admitted; although she had mostly packed elegant formalwear, she had brought her armour with her, just as she had brought Miló and Akoúo̱. She pulled her boots out of her case and quickly pulled them on. "But it would also take too long to put it all on. My aura will have to serve alone."

This would be the first time that she had gone out to fight — possibly to fight — in her pyjamas, but who could say if it would be the last? The life of a huntress was fraught with surprises.

"Okay," Kendal said. "I'll take you down to the McKinley place."

"What about Jaune?" Pyrrha asked.

"What about Jaune?" River repeated her own question back at her.

Pyrrha tied her hair up out of the way. "We need to tell him about this."

"No, we don't," River said. "Jaune's—"

"A huntsman in training," Pyrrha said as she pulled on her other boot. She stood up. "And I promised that I wouldn't do this without him."

River squirmed a little. "He … he doesn't have to know."

"But I would know," Pyrrha said. "I'd know that I'd broken my word to him, again. I'm sorry, I can't do that."

"I appreciate that, Pyrrha," Jaune said, softly but firmly, as he walked up behind her, having presumably come from his own bedroom. He was not wearing his blue onesie; rather, he had pulled his jeans and hoodie on again, though his feet were still clad in his bunny-eared slippers. "What's going on?"

"Sky hasn't come back yet," Kendal said.

"I asked Pyrrha to check it out," River added.

Jaune's eyes widened. "No way, you think that—?"

"We don't know for sure," Pyrrha said quickly. "But it's … possible."

Jaune's chest heaved. "Then I'm coming with you," he said firmly.

"I know," Pyrrha said. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"You don't even have a weapon," River pointed out.

"Hang on a second," Kendal said, darting around Pyrrha and to the back of the room where her desk stood waiting for her.

Kendal bent down, pulling open the draws and rummaging around in them for a moment. She came back holding a knife in one hand, a long-bladed dirk with a mother-of-pearl handle. There was a flower pattern carved into the handle, a stem winding its way towards the blade, with flowers blossoming off it at intervals.

"This … this was given to me," she said, "by … by a good friend." She pressed it into his open palm. "Take it; it's better than nothing."

Jaune stared at the knife in his hand for a moment, before he looked back at his sister. "Thanks, Kendal."

"Jaune," River began. "I don't—"

"River," Jaune said. "I have to do this, not just because Sky's my sister, but because this … this is what I do now."

River stared into his eyes for a moment. "I hope all that training you've gotten at that school was worth it."

It took Jaune only a moment to pull on his trainers, and unlike her, it took very little time at all for him to pull his cuirass on over his hoodie too, so that he had some chest protection to augment his aura. That done, and with Miló and Akoúo̱ slung across Pyrrha's back and with Jaune's shield over his arm, Kendal sneaked the two of them downstairs and out the door.

"I remember the way to the McKinley farm," Jaune said. "You should wait here."

"Right," Kendal said, nodding her head and sounding rather relieved as she said it. "I … I don't know whether to say 'better you than me' or tell you to stay safe. How about both?"

Jaune smiled. "Both is fine."

"Good luck out there," Kendal said. "We'll be waiting."

She closed the door, but Pyrrha would not have been surprised to learn that she was just standing there, immediately on the other side, waiting, just as she had promised to do.

Jaune stared at the door, the same door that he had hesitated before earlier today, and a sigh escaped his lips.

"Jaune," Pyrrha murmured. "If this is a grimm attack—"

"I know," Jaune said softly. "I don't know whether it's lucky that we were here, or unlucky."

"Whatever has happened to your sister, you did not cause it," Pyrrha said. "We should go, and quickly."

"Right," Jaune said. "Thank you, for keeping your promise. It would have been really easy for you to go without me."

Pyrrha slipped her hand into his. "You're my partner. We do this together."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Jaune said.

He led the way. The town which had so bustled with chaotic activity during the day was almost completely empty at night. Pyrrha hadn't been expecting flourishing city-style nightlife, but she was a little surprised at the way that absolutely nobody seemed to be abroad under the light of the moon. Even the animals appeared to be asleep, for they saw no sign of them as they moved briskly down the dirt tracks. Some of the houses had lights on within; others were completely dark and silent. Even the water of the lake was still, with no sign of any faunus swimming by moonlight. The wind whistled through the high stalks of wheat, but that was the only sound other than their footsteps to disturb the town.

There were no birds, Pyrrha realised. No owls screeched or hooted; nothing made a sound. That was odd. Suspicious, even. It suggested that something had frightened them all away.

"Jaune," she murmured. "How close are we?"

"Pretty close," Jaune said. "It's just up there."

"Then let me lead from now on," Pyrrha said as she pulled her weapons out from off her back, with her shield upon her left arm and her spear in her right hand, her knees and her back bent into a low crouch for a better centre of gravity. "This way?" She gestured with her spear.

Jaune pulled out the knife that Kendal had given him and gripped it tightly. It was a great deal shorter than Crocea Mors had been, but Kendal was right; it was much better than nothing. The blade glimmered softly under the moonlight.

Pyrrha took the lead, as she had asked to do; now that Jaune had pointed the way, it was quite easy to spot the McKinley farm under the light of the broken moon: it was the broken house, the one with its walls smashed down, the roof caved in, the whole place reduced to rubble such as they had seen on the outskirts of Mistral when they had set out to hunt the karkadann.

Jaune let out a strangled cry at the sight of it. "What could have done this?"

I'm afraid we both know the answer to that, Pyrrha thought as she inspected the damage. So much had been broken down that the chimney was practically freestanding at this point, for all the walls that should have attached to it were gone. What had once been — she hazarded — a long, low farmhouse was now little more than a series of wall fragments, disconnected from one another, swaying as though they might fall at any moment.

"Sky," Jaune murmured. "There hasn't been a grimm attack here … ever. Why now?"

"Because they got past the huntsmen who usually fend them off?" Pyrrha suggested. "Because a certain grimm was more persistent than the others in getting over the hills? Because … I don't know, Jaune. I only know what I can see in front of me." She breathed in and out. "Do you have your scroll with you?"

"No, I didn't bring it with me," Jaune admitted, "You?"

"No," Pyrrha admitted and cursed her stupidity. They needed to warn somebody, because whatever had done this was bad news for the whole town. She should have thought, but she had been in such a hurry, and…

Stay or go. She could send Jaune back to warn other people, but he wouldn't like to leave her; they could both go, but that would mean abandoning anyone here who might yet be alive. Or they could stay here and do what they could at the risk that nobody would be warned until it was too late.

"Jaune," Pyrrha said. "What do you think—?"

She never got the chance to finish the question. She was cut off by a cry of pain coming from somewhere in the ruins. It sounded like—

"Sky!" Jaune cried, and he darted past Pyrrha, sprinting furiously towards the ruined farmhouse.

Pyrrha ran after him, catching up quickly until they were running side by side, then Pyrrha pulled ahead just a little as they covered the open ground that had been separating them from the ruins.

The interior of the house was just as smashed and wrecked as the exterior looked, with tables and chairs and furniture all broken to kindling. But there was very little blood, not so much as Pyrrha would have expected, in all honestly. If a family had lived here, and they had perished at the hands of the grimm, then she would have expected more ghastly evidence of the monstrous appetites of the creatures of grimm. They had seen as much during the karkadann hunt, when they had come across the site of one of its depredations. But here, there was no such evidence, or at least not nearly enough, nothing but a few slight trails of blood.

Trails that led to where Sky lay propped against one of the remaining walls, her leg a bleeding mess. Her gun and flashlight both lay nearby her, but just out of reach. She was alive; Pyrrha could see her chest rising and falling, and her eyes were open too.

"Sky," Jaune gasped, as he ran to her side and knelt down beside her. "Thank God. What happened here?"

Sky stared at him, blinking repeatedly as though she wasn't sure he was real but was instead a phantom that would disappear at any moment. "J-Jaune?"

Jaune nodded. "It's me, and I'm going to … Pyrrha, can you activate her aura, like you did mine? If you do, then I can boost it with my semblance and help her leg, but I don't know how to … I don't know how."

"Of course," Pyrrha said as she folded Miló and prepared to store it upon her back.

"No," Sky whispered, shaking her head. "No, you need to get out of here; it's going to come back."

"Sky," Jaune said. "What are you—?"

Pyrrha heard the hooves first, thunderous pounding hoofbeats on the ground. She turned to face the dark woods, the trees that looked like monsters in the darkness with arms and claws outstretched to strike at them. But it was the actual monster that she could hear that concerned Pyrrha as she drew her spear once more and settled into a guard.

A monstrous boarbatusk emerged from out of the trees with a great roar. It was larger than the average boarbatusk, and heavier too, with heavy plates armouring its sides like the barding of a warhorse and thick spurs of bone jutting up out of its flesh. Both its flanks were scored with deep wounds, wounds that left its armour plates scored or even cracked in places, wounds that had gouged into its oily black flesh; it looked as though it had been embroiled in a fierce battle already, but those injuries seemed neither to be slowing it down nor weakening it at all, for it made the earth shake as it bore down upon them nevertheless.

The boarbatusk charged, and Pyrrha charged to meet it, her feet pounding over the wooden floor as she leapt over the ruined wall. The boarbatusk roared, and Pyrrha shouted in answer with a war cry of her own as she charged, her shield held before her.

The huntress and the monster closed the distance that divided them, and as they closed, so Pyrrha leapt; she sprung off the ground, soaring through the air, her ponytail flying about her as she flipped mid-air and descended like a thunderbolt to land upon the back of the grimm.

Balanced upon the creature's black hide, Pyrrha brought her spear down into the nape of its neck, just behind the bone mask that protected its head and face. She drove Miló in as far as it would go, twisting her spear this way and that to do more damage.

The boarbatusk squealed in pain, halting its charge as it squirmed and bucked to try and get her off. It stomped back and forth, it swayed from side to side, and Pyrrha lost her footing on the beast and had to grab one of its protruding spurs of bone as she fell from standing on the monster to sitting on it like a rider on a bull. She switched Miló into its sword form and slashed frantically at the neck, trying to cut deep enough to sever the head from the body.

But strokes heavy enough and deep enough to slice large grimm in two were not her specialty, at least not without much more momentum behind her than she currently possessed. She was wounding the grimm — its roars of pain and the fact that it was so determined to get rid of her were testament to that — but she wasn't doing enough, and certainly not doing it fast enough.

The boarbatusk rolled over, snapping several of its own bone spurs in the process as they cracked and shattered when pressed between the ground and the monstrous weight of the boarbatusk, but it must have considered it to be worth the trade, for it also got Pyrrha off its back. She felt her aura drain away as she was pressed like a fly between the table and the newspaper, crushed against the ground by the black bulk of the grimm, but then the beast was off her and back on its hooves once more.

Pyrrha snatched up her spear once more, thrusting it forward, driving it into the boarbatusk's leg, but as she thrust, so too did the sound of three shots shatter the stillness of the night. Three snapping sounds, one after another, as Jaune fired Sky's police pistol.

Pyrrha couldn't tell if he had hit the monster, or if in hitting, he had actually hurt it at all, but he had certainly gotten its attention.

It was the worst thing he could have done.

Before Pyrrha could react, the boarbatusk had begun to spin, becoming a black and white blur that hung suspended in the air for a second before launching itself straight at Jaune, and at his wounded, helpless sister behind him.

"Jaune!" Pyrrha cried as the boarbatusk rolled towards him like an enormous boulder.

Jaune raised his shield in front of his face, and then his whole body began to glow white, the light engulfing him just like…

His semblance. Is he boosting his own aura?

It seemed so obvious in retrospect, but Pyrrha had never considered it before now. It probably burned through his aura at an increased rate, but that wouldn't matter, so long as—

The boarbatusk struck Jaune as he blazed with the inner light of his soul, and though the force of the monster's impact forced Jaune back half a step, the boarbatusk itself was flung backwards a dozen feet through the air to land on its side on the ground with an earth-shaking thud.

Pyrrha was already charging towards it. She transformed Miló into rifle mode and snapped off two shots as she ran, her boots pounding as they carried her over the earth while she transformed Miló into spear form once more to drive it home into the boarbatusks's throat.

The grimm screeched, but did not die.

Pyrrha put her foot upon its shoulder, leaning her weight upon the beast to try and stop it from rising, to keep it down and vulnerable.

"Thank you, Pyrrha. But I'll take it from here."

Pyrrha's eyes widened as she watched vines, thick and black and covered in sharp thorns, erupt out of the ground beneath the boarbatusk. They moved as though they knew what they were doing, coiling like snakes around the grimm, the thorns digging into the black flesh unprotected by armoured bone. They wound around its mouth, snapping it shut like a muzzle; they wound around its legs, around its whole body.

Pyrrha took an involuntary step back, watching in horrified amazement as vine after vine rose out of the ground as though it had always been there, lying dormant, waiting for some command to rise.

The boarbatusk tried to rise too. It grunted and snorted and tried to open its mouth wide enough to roar. It strained with all of its considerable might, and for a moment, Pyrrha thought that it might overcome the vines and thorns that sought to hold it captive. But even as it got two porcine hooves upon the ground, even as it looked as though it might regain its feet, more vines emerged to bind it tighter, to hold it faster, to pull it back down to the ground again and keep it there as the vines wound ever tighter, tighter, and tighter, digging into the black flesh until they started tearing the boarbatusk into pieces.

Pyrrha turned to see who had spoken.

It was Rouge. Rouge Arc, Jaune's elder sister. She was still recognisable, even though her blue eyes had turned to a dark green, her golden hair had darkened somewhat, even as it flew wildly in all directions behind her as though blown and buffeted by a wind that only she could feel. She was floating a few feet off the ground, the hem of her white nightgown gusted by the same wind that was disturbing her hair, rising up a little to reveal her bare feet underneath. She was still wearing her necklace of gemstones, and the seven rainbow-hued stones all glowed as she touched them with one hand, even as she thrust the other hand out towards the boarbatusk and the vines that had destroyed it.

"You are not welcome here," she said, and for a moment, Pyrrha was unsure if she was referring to the grimm or to Pyrrha herself.

The boarbatusk cried out, whether in anger or in pain or both, Pyrrha could not say, but the vines sliced through it, ripping it to shreds, until there was nothing left of the grimm but ash and smoke, and even that began to swiftly fade away.

The glow of the seven stones around Rouge's neck faded, and her eyes turned Arc blue once again; the wind that had gusted through her hair died down as she dropped back to the ground and, with a gasp, fell to her knees.

"Are you alright?" Pyrrha asked as she started towards her.

Rouge raised one hand to forestall her. "Sky," she said, gesturing with that same hand.

"Are you—?"

"Yes, go," Rouge gasped.

Pyrrha swiftly covered the distance, leaping over another fragment of wall to find Jaune kneel by his sister's side, one hand upon her shoulder.

"We are family," he said, his eyes closed and his whole body shaking as Sky groaned in pain. "Bound by blood … but also bound in spirit. Infinite … and forever. And so, as I love you, I unlock your soul." Jaune gasped in sudden exhaustion as the light of his own aura dimmed, even as Sky began to glow with her own suddenly-released inner light.

"Woah," Sky murmured, as she perceived the glow that surrounded her. Even now, her leg was starting to look a lot better. "What … what did you do?"

"He unlocked your aura," Pyrrha murmured.

"And that's not all I can do," Jaune said as he held his hands over Sky's mangled leg and said hands began to glow with the light of his semblance. Pyrrha didn't stop him. He should have enough aura left for that, and there was no sign of any other grimm in the area.

Rouge walked over to join them, moving slowly but looking stronger with every passing moment. She joined Pyrrha in watching as Sky's leg began to knit itself back together, the injuries inflicted by the grimm fading more and more with every passing moment.

"Did they teach you that at Beacon, little brother?" Rouge asked.

"Something like that," Jaune said.

Sky looked up at her elder sister. "Where did they teach you how to do that thing with the vines?"

Rouge closed her eyes for a moment. "You weren't supposed to see that. Nobody is supposed to see that. Sky, I'm sorry; I should never have let that monster come so close; I try to stop them in the forest where no one can see, and normally, I do, but that creature must have been too big and strong to be stopped by my regular vines, and I wasn't paying enough attention—"

"Slow down and take a breath," Sky said. "And just tell us what's going on? What's … what's going on?"

Rouge hesitated. "Is she going to be okay?"

"I think so," Jaune said. "I should be able to boost her aura enough to heal the wound completely, right, Pyrrha?"

"I'd say so," Pyrrha replied. "Although you know your own aura best." But considering that Sky's wound was very nearly healed already, it seemed a reasonably safe assumption.

"Come on, Rouge," Sky said, her voice sounding stronger and stronger. "Spill it."

A slight smile flickered across Rouge's face. "Did you really think that it was by fate alone that the tranquillity of our home was maintained?"

Sky stared up at her. "I mean … I guess?"

Rouge wrapped one hand around the seven stones. "To answer your first question, it was grandma who taught me how to do this. She learned it from her aunt, who had learned it from great-great-grandma. Great-great-grandpa found these stones, before the war, before he even founded this town. He found these stones and, having no use for them himself, he gave them to his wife. He thought they were just beautiful, but she soon found out that they had … powers. Like magic. They could control plants, and the wind and the water too, though not to the same extent. She decided to keep her discovery a secret, but she also started to secretly use the powers of these stones, these geodes, to keep the grimm at bay and maintain Alba Longa as a haven of peace and safety, passing down the geodes and the knowledge of how to use them to keep the peace here. And so, while generations of Arc men have left this town and ventured out in the world beyond to battle the grimm, generations of Arc women have ensured that there is a home left for them to come home to when they tire of fighting.

"Grimm don't come around too often, thank goodness, but when they do, I deal with them. I try to, anyway; one of them got away from me, and for that … I'm so sorry; if it hadn't been for Jaune, then … I'm sorry."

Sky was now sufficiently healed that she could stand up, although she still leaned on Jaune a little as they both rose to their feet.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sky asked.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Jaune added.

"It is a secret," Rouge reminded them. "Nobody knows, not even Mom and Dad."

"Yeah, but… but we're family," Sky said.

"This cannot get out," Rouge said. "If people knew … someone might try to take the geodes away, or misuse their power. It would be dangerous in the wrong hands." She hesitated for a moment. "As far as anyone must be concerned, it was Pyrrha and Jaune who defeated the grimm and saved you." She smiled again. "It isn't even that far from the truth; Pyrrha wasn't doing too badly when I arrived, and I couldn't have done what Jaune did for your leg."

"Yeah, but, it's a lie," Jaune said. "You should be a hero to this town."

Rouge shook her head. "I don't do this for fame or glory. I do this because it's home and because I can and because somebody must. Because I was chosen, out of all of us. Because Grandma passed this duty down to me, and I won't forsake her trust or her memory. But no one can know. You and Pyrrha were the heroes tonight."

Sky frowned. "Jaune, that … that thing … is that what you're up against all the time?"

"Something like that, yeah," Jaune said. "That one was a lot smarter than normal, wounding you as bait for other people, but yeah, that kind of thing."

Sky's frown deepened. "And those things have been coming around all this time, but you and grandma were keeping them away, Rouge?"

"Not as strong; usually, they're smaller and a lot easier to handle," Rouge said. "That's why they don't get past the vines that I've set up in the forest. But yes, they come around every now and then."

Sky pursed her lips, and hung her head. "I guess I've been kind of making an ass of myself, haven't I? I thought that this place was safe, when really, it was just that we had a defender that I didn't know about."

"We both owe Jaune an apology," Rouge said. "I thought that … because I was protecting our home that you should stay here and shelter behind me, but that's not what you want, is it? You want to be the shelter for those who don't have seven magical stones to keep their homes safe from the dark."

"I do," Jaune said. "We do."

Sky looked down at her leg, healed now but still visible through the torn remains of her ruined pants. She looked back up at Jaune. "I still wish you'd stay here, where it's … where you don't have to fight … but I guess we're past that now, aren't we?"

"I'm following the path I believe in," Jaune said. "Like you all taught me how to."

Sky snorted. "Yeah, right, there's no need to brown-nose me now; I know who really deserves the credit." She looked at Pyrrha. "Thanks for coming out for me, even after everything I said."

"No huntress could do anything less," Pyrrha said.

"Hmm, I wouldn't know," Sky said. She scratched the back of her head with one hand. "Can we start over?"

Pyrrha smiled. "I'd like that."

Sky stuck out her hand. "Welcome to the Arc family, Pyrrha Nikos."

 

[ScipioSmith]

The Girl on the Cereal Box Redux​

Pyrrha reached out and took Sky's hand. "Thank you," she said. "It's a pleasure. A greater pleasure than I know how to express."

Sky glanced at Jaune for a moment. "Okay," she said softly. "We can talk about that later. For now…" She half turned away from Pyrrha and Jaune. Sky closed her eyes for a moment, bowing her head a little. Her blue eyes snapped open. "Okay, you two are the grimm experts; what did that thing do to the McKinleys?"

"Was the house like this when you got here?" asked Jaune.

"Pretty much," Sky said. "I got here, found it mostly like this, and I was taking a look around when that thing jumped me. It bit me on the leg, dragged over there, must have been trying to use me as bait for anyone else who might come looking. Did it know that you were here?"

"Grimm become more intelligent as they get older," Pyrrha explained. "It may not have known for certain that there were huntsmen in the village, but it might have wanted to be prepared in case there were."

"They get smarter?" Sky repeated. "You've got your work cut out for you, don't you?"

"You don't know the half of it," Jaune muttered.

Sky glanced at him. "You're not filling me up with good vibes here, Jaune."

"Sorry," Jaune said. "I know it's a lot to take in all at once. I was lucky to have this fed to me in chunks in class."

"You paid attention in class?" asked Rouge.

"Yes!" Jaune squawked. "Mostly."

"The point is," Sky said, "what did it do with the McKinleys? Did it … did it drag them off to … do they have dens? Do they store … do they store food for later?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Pyrrha said.

"I don't remember it in any of Professor Port's lessons," Jaune added.

"Then where are they?" Sky demanded.

"Hold on," Rouge murmured, and she raised one hand to touch the orange geode that she wore around her neck. The magical stone began to glow, and Rouge's blue eyes turned once more to that dark green.

"Rouge?" Sky asked.

Rouge held up one hand for quiet.

Nobody said anything else. They just watched her, eyes transformed in colour, geode glowing brighter and brighter, until she released the stone, and instantly, the colour was dimmed to nothing. Instantly too, her eyes changed back to their usual blue.

"They're in the cellar!" Rouge cried. "They're all safe; they hid there when the creature attacked."

"How do you know that?" Sky demanded.

"I could hear their thoughts," Rogue said. "They're frightened, but alive."

Sky's eyebrows rose. "Those things give you telepathy as well?"

"To an extent," Rouge replied. "Trust me; they're there."

"I'm believing every other impossible thing tonight; what's one more?" Sky muttered. "Okay, Rouge, go home. Jaune, Pyrrha, can you help me get them out?"

"I don't see a cellar," Pyrrha murmured.

"The door must be buried under some of this rubble; that's why I need your help," Sky said. "Rouge, go home, go to bed— wait a second, is this the reason you sleep alone, so that you can sneak out and go fight monsters?"

"I wish," Rouge said. A sigh escaped her. "I'd rather not talk about it right now."

"Fair; we've got stuff to do anyway," Sky said. "Go. We'll … go."

Rouge nodded. "Good luck," she said. "Remember, they're all waiting for you." She turned away and began to walk briskly — it was not quite a run, but it might have been if she had moved any faster — away from the McKinley farm, back in the direction of the rest of Alba Longa and the Arc house.

"Watch out for River!" Jaune called out to her as she retreated. "She's waiting up for us."

"I know," Rouge called, turning back to them. "I've gotten past her once already."

She turned away and resumed her swift progress away from here.

"I … my oldest sister has magic," Jaune murmured. "My oldest sister has magic."

"I suppose that must be quite surprising," Pyrrha said, aware that it was a wholly inadequate response, but at the same time unable to think of what else to say in the face of the situation.

"Yeah," Jaune said. "Yeah, you could say that."

"You two!" Sky shouted. "Come on, I need some help here." She paused for a moment. "Are you going to be enough, or do I need to wake up half the village and get a chain going?"

"We'll be fine," Pyrrha assured her. "Aura doesn't just protect you from injuries or heal the wounds you already have; it also enhances your strength, speed, and stamina too."

Sky blinked. "Well, that explains … huh. Yeah, you know, I can feel that, I think. Does that mean that you could have beaten Ruben up anytime you wanted to?"

"Maybe," Jaune admitted. "But what would have been the point?"

"Why would you want to beat up your brother-in-law?" Pyrrha asked anxiously.

"Focus, Pyrrha," Sky said, as though she hadn't brought the subject up. She led them into the ruins of the McKinley house. "Now, um … I didn't have cause to come in here too often, but they invited me in for a drink once or twice, and the cellar was…" She turned this way and that, pointing at nothing in particular, seeming to be looking for something that would jog her memory. "It was…" She began to walk through the ruins, pacing down the remains of the long house, peering at the piles of rubble. "It was there! Right there, near the kitchen!"

"Are you sure?" Jaune asked.

"Pretty sure," Sky said, bending down near a pile of shattered brick and stone that had piled up near somewhere that might, Pyrrha supposed, have been a kitchen, although it was nigh impossible to tell at the moment.

"Help me," Sky said, lifting a rock from the top of the pile and casting it aside. "Come on."

"Wait," Pyrrha urged, holding out one hand and letting out her semblance.

Her hand, and the sleeve of her olive-coloured pyjamas, were encased in the black outline of her semblance as she looked for traces of metal in the masonry, any bars or the remains of pipes, anything that she could use. She found them, metal, not in great quantities, but enough for her to use. She exerted herself, gripping those small fragments of metal, feeling her aura dropping a little as the masonry blocks became surrounded by the black outline of her semblance.

"Do you need a boost?" Jaune asked.

"No, thank you; I'll be fine," Pyrrha said. Her aura had taken a hit from the boarbatusk rolling on top of her, and she might have been concerned if there had been more grimm at large, but for this, what she had was adequate.

It was more than adequate to pick up all of the rubble that was blocking access to the cellar and safely deposit it on the other side of the ruin, revealing the cellar door itself, now covered by only a light dusting of stone chips and fragments.

"Okay, you've got a superpower on top of everything else?" Sky demanded. "And what was that light show that you did earlier, Jaune?"

"Our semblances," Jaune explained. "Everyone has one; you just have to find it."

"Does Dad have one of those?"

"And you'll have one too, now that I've activated your aura," Jaune said.

"This is going to make my head hurt," Sky muttered.

She reached down and wrenched open the cellar doors, shining her flashlight down into the darkness below.

"Mister McKinley?" she called out. "Are you guys down there? This is Sheriff Arc; you can come out now, it's all clear."

There was a silence from the darkness, before an older, slightly hoarse voice replied, "Sheriff? But … but what about that infernal beast?"

"It's alright now," Sky assured him. "My…" She glanced at Pyrrha. "My brother's girlfriend killed it."

"Who?"

"I know, I was surprised as well," Sky replied. "But it really is dead, so you can come on out."

She stepped back from the cellar. Pyrrha could hear footsteps from down below, and after a few moments, the McKinley family emerged from out of the depths: a wiry, late middle-aged man with hair turning grey and stubble on his sunken cheeks; an older woman with blonde hair fading in places; a woman a few years older than Jaune or Pyrrha, her hair also blonde but longer too; a man of about the same age with short black hair and a firm jawline, and two young boys.

"Is it really gone?" asked the smaller of the two boys.

Sky nodded. "It's really gone. You don't have to worry about it anymore."

"It came out of nowhere," Mister McKinley said. "One minute, we were sitting down to dinner, and the next thing we knew, this thing just broke through the wall. We were damn lucky to be able to get into the cellar before it got any of us."

"What was that thing?" asked the older woman. "How did it get here?"

"That … that was what they call a grimm, I understand," Sky said. "They're a big problem for some other folks in other places, but we're pretty lucky not to be bothered by them … much. But it's okay now; it's dead, and I … I'm told that there won't be any more showing up."

"Told by who?" Mister McKinley demanded.

"By my brother, who is becoming something of an expert in these things," Sky said.

"Jaune?" the younger man asked, looking over at Jaune and Pyrrha. "Jaune, is that you?"

Jaune raised one hand tentatively. "Hey."

"And that … this is your girlfriend, Jaune?" the younger woman asked. "This is the one who killed that thing?"

"Hello," Pyrrha said, waving one hand of her own. "Pyrrha Nikos, at your service."

"Well, first of all, thank you so much," the younger woman said, in a voice that was sweet but which drew out her vowel sounds a little too young. "Thank you, I don't know what I can ever do to repay you—"

"That's not necessary," Pyrrha assured.

"But second of all, what is someone like you doing with Jaune Arc?"

Pyrrha blinked. "If you really do want to repay me," she said, feeling slightly guilty as she said it, considering that she was taking credit for Rouge's power, "then you could not ask me that question again."

"What are we going to do now?" asked the other of the two boys.

"Why don't you all come down to the Kent place down the road?" Sky suggested. "I know that they've had a lot of space to themselves since Clark moved out. I'm sure they'll be happy to put you up for at least the night, or until you figure out what to do next. And I'm certain, in the morning, that everyone will want to help you get back on your feet."

"That … that sounds like a good idea," Mister McKinley. "Thank you, Sheriff. Thank you kindly, Miss Nikos. And you too, young Jaune."

Sky led the way, with Jaune and Pyrrha following behind, shepherding the family — not that they needed it; the young couple kept their children well in hand — away from the ruins of their home and closer to the village itself. They reached another house, another farmhouse, surrounded by fields of tall wheat and accessible only through a single dirt road running through the fields. The house was smaller than the McKinley house had seemed, and Pyrrha did wonder if it would be big enough to take the family.

But of course, Sky knew the village much better than she did, and she thought this was a good idea.

The Kent house looked like a cosy place, with a soft, inviting orange light emerging out of the windows and smoke wafting out of the chimney, just about visible under the moonlight. The house was made of grey stone, irregular but sturdy, with a thatched roof and a wooden door painted red.

Sky knocked upon that red door as she reached it. "Mister Kent!" she called. "It's Sheriff Arc!"

The door opened a few moments later, revealing an elderly couple, both with wrinkled faces and spectacles sitting upon their noses, with grey hair and slightly stooped backs.

"Sheriff?" Mister Kent said. "And Griswold? And you brought the whole family with you? It's a little late to come visiting, don't you think?"

"I'm afraid this isn't a visit, sir," Sky said. "The McKinleys … their home…"

"We've got no place else to go," one of the younger McKinleys said, "but Sheriff Arc said we could come and stay with you."

"Well … yeah, that," Sky said. "Their house was destroyed; there's nothing left. I was hoping you could put a roof over their heads for the night."

"Of course, we wouldn't dream of turning you away," said the woman, Mrs. Kent. "But destroyed? What on earth happened?"

"A monster," said one of the younger McKinleys.

"A grimm," Sky said. "It's nothing to worry about—"

"A grimm destroying a whole house sure sounds like something to worry about!" Mister Kent declared.

"It's dead now," Sky said. "Jaune and Pyrrha killed it."

"Jaune?" Mister Kent said, squinting from behind his spectacles. "Young Jaune, is that you?"

"Hey, Mister Kent," Jaune called to him.

Mister Kent shook his head. "Grimm in Alba Longa, well I'll be … w-what if more of them come here? What if—"

"Jonathan," Mister McKinley cut across his words, "we can worry about the monsters all we like in the morning. Right now, my family has been sitting in a cellar for hours; we're cold; may we please come inside?"

"Of course, dear, of course; come in, everyone," Mrs. Kent said, stepping aside for them. "I'll put some hot water on for everyone. Make yourselves at home."

"Bless you, Martha," Mister McKinley said. "In you go, kids, and don't forget to say thank you." He turned to Jaune and Pyrrha. "And thank you, both of you."

As his family went inside, disappearing into the grey stone farmhouse, Mister McKinley lingered, his eyes still fixed on Jaune.

"I … I've gotta admit, I never thought you were much of a man, Jaune," he said, "but I hope I'm man enough to admit I was wrong."

Jaune's back straightened a little; he drew his shoulders back. "Thank you, sir," he said.

Mister McKinley nodded. "Miss Nikos," he said gruffly, then turned away and followed the rest of his family inside.

"Sheriff," Mister Kent said. "Jaune."

"Goodnight, Mister Kent," Sky said. "And my regards to your wife."

"I'll be sure to pass them on," he said. "Goodnight." He closed the door.

Sky sighed, running one hand through her short blonde hair. "How are people going to take it when the news spreads?"

Pyrrha didn't answer, unsure if the question was rhetorical or not.

"I can't really tell everyone not to worry because Rouge gets 'em ninety-nine percent of the time," Sky went on. "Rouge doesn't want me to tell them anything about her. So how…?" She shook her head. "I'll think about that tomorrow, after a few hours' sleep. Come on, you two; let's get going."

Sky led the way again, and again, Pyrrha and Jaune hung back just a little bit, letting her go on ahead, while they trailed behind.

"That was quite something you did with your aura," Pyrrha observed quietly. "I didn't teach you that."

"No," Jaune agreed. "That's okay, isn't it?"

Pyrrha let out a little chuckle. "Jaune, of course, it's okay. Developing your own techniques, working out how you can perform at your best, that's all part of being a huntsman. It shows how much you're coming into your own. What was it that you did, were you boosting your own aura?"

"Pretty much," Jaune agreed. "I first thought about it from thinking about Rainbow Dash. You know where she does that thing with the punch, or when she took Adam's sword on her arm?"

Pyrrha nodded. "She concentrated her aura in one place to absorb the impact, and she released her aura explosively as an offensive weapon."

Those were not skills that she had ever been trained in, either offensively or defensively, but they were not unfamiliar to Pyrrha; Arslan had been known to use her aura to attack from time to time as well, and it was probably not a coincidence that she, like Rainbow Dash, fought without melee weapons. As an offence, it could certainly bring battles to a close quickly, provided that the blow landed, but it was also … lacking in subtlety and, so, anathema to Pyrrha's style of fighting.

As for defence, again, Pyrrha had been taught to avoid being hit rather than to absorb blows, but that did not make it an invalid technique, especially for someone like Jaune who was less nimble on his feet than some of his peers and thus might find 'don't get hit' to be a less useful approach than it was for Pyrrha.

And it certainly had proved a useful tactic against the boarbatusk.

"And I thought that … I don't have the control over my aura to do that yet," Jaune said, "but what if I could use my semblance to accomplish the same thing, you know? Boost a part of my own aura, as if I were concentrating it in one place?"

"That's very clever," Pyrrha replied. "Although you will burn aura that way, possibly quite fast, since you're expending aura in a way that you wouldn't be if you were only concentrating it. So be careful, and if you use that technique in a prolonged battle, make sure you keep track of your aura level, especially if you're being asked to boost other people at the same time."

"I will," Jaune agreed. "But it worked, didn't it? It worked even better than I thought it would; I certainly didn't expect to send that boarbatusk flying the way I did. It was … that was pretty cool, don't you think?"

Pyrrha smiled. "It was very cool," she said, reaching out to slip her hand into his, intertwining their fingers together.

Jaune glanced down at their hands, then looked back up into her eyes and returned her smile with one of his own, lighting up his eyes.

And so, hand in hand, they followed Sky back to Jaune's home.

River and Kendal were waiting for them in the hallway, and so was Chester, with one arm around River as they waited. Kendal paced up and down behind them, only to stop as Sky opened the door and stepped through.

"There you are!" River cried. "And you're okay, so what took you so long?"

"And what happened to your pants?" asked Chester.

"I got bitten by a monster pig," Sky said.

"Monster pig?" Kendal repeated, turning to face her. "You mean a grimm? A boarbatusk?"

"You know what that is?" Sky asked. "Right, of course you know."

"There was a grimm?" River demanded. "Here, in Alba Longa?"

"It's dead now," Sky explained. "Pyrrha and Jaune took care of it. And Jaune healed my leg besides; you'd never imagine that monster had chewed down on it, would you?"

"No, I wouldn't," River murmured. "You can do that? You can just heal injuries?"

"What I do is boost people's aura," Jaune explained, "and then their aura heals their injuries."

"That still sounds pretty awesome; when did you learn how to do that?" River asked.

"They taught you all kinds of neat stuff at that school, sounds like," said Chester.

"It's my semblance," Jaune said.

"Semblance of what?" asked River.

"I don't really know why it's called that," Jaune admitted. "Maybe we can save the technical questions for later, like tomorrow?"

"Right, sure, that's … sure," River murmured. She paused for a moment. "You're sure it was a grimm?"

"They get everywhere," Kendal said. "More importantly, are you sure there was just the one of them?"

"There was no sign of any others," Pyrrha informed her.

Kendal nodded, then glared at Sky, "Now do you believe me? This place was never safe; it was only lucky."

"There's no need to say I told you so," Sky snapped. "Especially since you weren't even right."

"The 'monster pig' says I was more right than you by a long way," Kendal replied, "and it also says that you owe Pyrrha an apology."

"I've already apologised!"

Kendal glanced at Pyrrha. "Has she apologised? If she hasn't, then there's no need to pretend that she has just to spare her blushes."

"Sky has very graciously apologised," Pyrrha said, "and we've agreed to start over."

Kendal snorted. "You've got a very kind-hearted girlfriend, Jaune."

Jaune beamed, and his expression was so contented, and so pleased, that it made Pyrrha's heart flutter a little more swiftly in turn.

"Trust me," he said, "I don't need anyone to tell me that."

"You two are going to send me to the dentists," Sky muttered. "You know they were holding hands on the way back from the McKinley place?"

"Are the McKinleys—?"

"Okay," Sky said. "They hid in the cellar when the grimm attacked. Their place got wrecked, but they're staying with the Kents tonight."

"We need to think about what to do in case more grimm show up," Kendal said. "We can't rely on Jaune and Pyrrha being here next time."

Sky said, "There's no need to overreact—"

"It's not overreacting!" Kendal yelled. "We've been underreacting this entire time, and now, it's time to react! Those things are out there, and they're dangerous—"

"I know that they're dangerous; one of them almost killed me!" snapped Sky. "But we aren't going to help if we—"

A light went on in the dining room; they could see the light slipping into the hallway, even though they couldn't see into the room itself.

"Sky? Kendal?" Mister Arc said. "Your mother and I can hear you yelling from upstairs, what are you two doing?"

"Is everything okay?" asked Mrs. Arc.

"Great," Sky muttered. "Now you woke up Mom and Dad."

"I'm not the one who—"

"You are too the one who started shouting!"

"Do you two mind?" River demanded.

Sky and Kendal looked away from one another, glancing down at the ground.

Without prompting, they all moved down the hallway, out into the dining room beyond.

It was not only the Arc parents who waited for them there, but Saphron too, and Ruben, and Rouge, standing near the back of the room where no one else could see her.

"Jaune?" Mister Arc said, as they emerged into view. "Pyrrha? What's going on? Why are you all out of bed? Jaune, why do you have your armour on?"

"I noticed that Sky hadn't come back from the McKinley place yet," River explained. "I got nervous, and I asked Pyrrha to go out there and check it out. Jaune went with her."

"Why?" Ruben asked. "Did you think you were gonna find a monster up there or something?"

"They did," Sky muttered.

Ruben paled visibly, and Pyrrha could not say that she was sad to see it. "Wh-what are you saying?"

"There was a grimm up there," Jaune said. "It had trashed the McKinley place, injured Sky; it attacked us before Pyrrha managed to kill it."

"We both defeated it together," Pyrrha said.

"Oh, God," Mrs. Arc said. "Sky, honey, where are you hurt? Should you even be up? Why aren't you with Doctor—?"

"I'm fine now, Mom," Sky said, raising one hand. "Jaune unlocked my aura and then used his semblance to…" She looked at Jaune. "What is it that you did again?"

"I boosted your aura so that it healed your injuries," Jaune said.

"Right," Sky agreed. "Jaune did … that."

"And the McKinleys?" asked Rouge from the back of the room.

"They're okay; they hid in the cellar," Sky said. "The Kents have taken them in, since their home is … gone."

"A grimm," Mister Arc said, his face pained.

He walked over to the dining table, now cleared of all plates and cutlery, without even a tablecloth laid out upon it, and pulled out a chair. He sat down heavily upon it, resting one arm upon the wooden table.

"A grimm, here? Here?" He shook his head. "I thought I'd left all that behind."

Jaune took a step forward. "It was only one grimm, Dad."

Mister Arc looked at him. "Listen to him, hasn't even finished his first year at Beacon yet, and already, he's talking like an expert."

"Grimm don't always move in packs," Jaune pointed out. "Especially not boarbatusks, which this was." He looked back at Pyrrha. "That's right, isn't it?"

Pyrrha nodded. "Boarbatusks are usually solitary creatures, when not part of a horde."

Beowolves would almost always hunt in packs; ursai might form groups under the leadership of an ursa major, or they might form groups of no more than three without a leader, or they might move individually; boarbatusks were mostly solitary creatures; the behaviour of the grimm was as varied as the types of grimm themselves.

"And it's not a horde, is it?" Saphron asked. "I mean, if it were, we'd know about it by now."

"The boarbatusk that attacked was very large, very strong, and more intelligent than usual," Pyrrha said. "Not the sort of grimm that would form the first wave if a horde were coming down on Alba Longa."

"That doesn't mean that we can be complacent," Kendal declared. "We've been too complacent for too long already! More grimm might show up any day now; they might show up tonight!"

"Kendal, that's really unlikely," Jaune said.

"We can't afford to sit around and do nothing any more," Kendal insisted. "We need to—"

"To do what?" Sky demanded. "What is it that we're supposed to do?"

"That's enough," Mister Arc said. "I'm not going to let you turn this into another squabble." He got up. "Sky, are you sure that you're alright? You don't have any injuries?"

"No, thanks to Jaune," Sky said. "You guys all heard the pause there, right? It wasn't 'no thanks to Jaune' it was 'no, comma, thanks to Jaune,' because—"

"We got it, Sky, don't worry," Saphron assured her.

"That's good to hear," Mister Arc said. "And, that being the case, I think that now might be a good time for you to apologise to Kendal for what happened this evening?"

Sky deflated a little. "Come on, Dad, I almost died."

"But you didn't," Mister Arc said, "and you just said you were fine."

Sky let out a wordless groan, followed by a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," she said, through gritted teeth.

Kendal's eyes narrowed. "What are you sorry for?"

"I'm sorry that I upset you at dinner tonight," Sky said.

Kendal folded her arms.

Sky scowled. "I'm sorry that you turned out to be right, this place isn't as safe as I thought, and what Jaune does is … actually pretty … necessary. And Pyrrha is pretty cool too. There, are you happy now, or is there anything else?"

"With that kind of attitude, I'm not sure that I should accept your apology."

"Oh, come on, I'm trying my best here!" Sky cried. "Pyrrha accepted my apology."

Kendal rolled her eyes. "Okay then, I forgive you. Apology accepted."

Mister Arc nodded approvingly. He looked at Pyrrha. "Pyrrha," he said, "apparently, Sky has already apologised, but she might not be the only one who owes one to you. On behalf of my family, I say sorry for any unkindness that you might have received, and which you didn't deserve; thank you for coming to our home, and if I'm right, thanks are in order for taking my son under your wing as well."

Pyrrha smiled. "I'd say that you were welcome, but the truth is, there aren't any thanks necessary. I was thrilled and honoured when Jaune asked me to come here with him, and Jaune deserves all the credit for how far he's come this year."

"That's not true at all," Jaune said.

"Are you two going to be like this the whole time?" Sky asked.

"I hope so; it's great," River said.

"What are we going to do about the grimm?" Kendal demanded.

"If Jaune and his pretty girlfriend could take on one of those things, there's no reason why we can't!" Ruben cried. "We'll arm ourselves—"

"That's not a good idea," Pyrrha said. "The grimm are not to be trifled with without proper training—"

"Anything that Jaune can do," Ruben said, loading Jaune's name with a sneer, "any real man in this town can do better."

"Oh, give it a rest, Ruben," Rouge snapped. "Even if that were true, and it never was, it clearly isn't true anymore."

Everyone looked at her.

"Rouge," Ruben said. "What are you—?"

"Don't do something stupid just because you can't look down on Jaune as completely as you used to," Rouge said.

Ruben stared at her for a moment. Then, wordlessly, he stomped out of the dining room. Pyrrha could hear his footsteps thumping on the staircase.

"Jaune," Rouge said, with a sigh in her voice. "I'm sorry, I … I should have done more to stop him from picking on you."

"It doesn't matter," Jaune said.

"Yeah, it does," Rouge replied. "But thank you anyway."

"Pyrrha's right," Mister Arc said. "If hunting grimm were something that anyone could do, then nobody would need to go to places like Beacon to be trained as huntsmen."

"But even if we hire a huntsman," Kendal said. "One huntsman, on their own … one huntsman can't protect people who don't know how to protect themselves. At least, there's only one way that they can do that, and I … I don't want anyone … I don't want them to die for me."

Pyrrha drew closer to her, placing one hand upon Kendal's shoulder. "Not all huntsmen work alone," she said. "Some continue to work in teams, even after graduation, so that they can protect one another; others work in pairs, even if not in fours; and a graduated huntsman could advise you on what defences to set up, if any, and what else to do. I do believe that bringing in a professional is your best course of action."

She wasn't sure, admittedly, what Rouge would make of that, but since she couldn't divulge the existence of Rouge's magic, then she had to give the advice that she would have given to any other community. If she had suggested doing nothing, as Sky seemed to be doing, then it would have seemed inexplicably strange.

"I'll speak to the mayor about it in the morning," Sky said.

"That's a good idea," Mister Arc said. "But, since it isn't morning yet, I think that we should all go back to bed, try to get a little more rest, and don't panic, okay? It never makes anything better, and especially not this."

"That sounds like a great idea," Saphron said. "Hopefully Terra's managed to get Adrian back to sleep."

"Did we wake him?" Kendal asked.

"You woke everyone."

Sky winced. "Sorry."

"It is what it is," Saphron said. "Goodnight, everyone."

"Goodnight, Saphron!'' everyone chorused.

Everyone bid one another goodnight, not usually using names, just tossing out the word as applicable to everyone, as they made their way towards the stairs. Pyrrha was the last one up, walking side by side with Jaune at the rear of the slow-moving herd of Arcs.

They climbed the stairs and walked down the corridor, stopping in front of Kendal's room.

The doorway was open, and Kendal was already lying down upon the camp bed.

Pyrrha stopped, and Jaune stopped also, turning to face her and reaching out to take her hands in his.

"You know," he said softly. "I … I didn't get to give you a kiss goodnight before."

"No," Pyrrha agreed, her voice slipping a little into coyness, even as a smile pricked at her lips. "No, you didn't."

Jaune hesitated for a moment, standing there, a smile on his face, a light in his eyes, then he leaned forwards and kissed her.

It was a brief kiss, a gentle kiss, a mere brush of his lips against hers, but it was enough.

It was a kiss goodnight. A kiss goodnight from her boyfriend. A kiss goodnight from her boyfriend at the door.

It was more than enough. It was wonderful.

"Goodnight," he said softly.

"Goodnight," Pyrrha whispered.

She half stepped into Kendal's room, but watched him as he turned away.

Pyrrha put her hands upon the doorframe and let out a sigh.

She heard a snort from behind her.

Pyrrha turned around, closing the door, to see Kendal, lying on the camp bed, watching her out of one open eye.

"I … I suppose you must think I'm a very foolish girl," Pyrrha murmured.

"I would never be so judgemental," Kendal declared. "Are you happy?"

"I'm very happy," Pyrrha said, putting Miló and Akoúo̱ back in her case before sitting down on the bed.

"And is Jaune happy?"

"I hope so," Pyrrha said as she started to take off her boots. "I hope so very much."

"Then who cares what I think?" Kendal asked. She rolled over, presenting her back to Pyrrha. "Sleep tight."

XxXxX​

The next morning, Pyrrha got out of the borrowed bed and started to pull on her boots.

Kendal opened her eyes. "Going somewhere in your PJs?" she asked.

"I thought I might go for a quick run before getting a shower," Pyrrha murmured. "If you have a shower, that is."

"Yeah, there's a shower," Kendal assured her. "But a run sounds like a good idea. I'll join you, if you don't mind the company?"

"Not at all," Pyrrha replied, and she waited for Kendal to pull on a pair of white trainers and lead the way out of the room, moving quietly down the corridor.

Sky stepped out of her bedroom door — like Kendal's door, it was marked by a childish sign that looked like it had been there since she was a little girl — to bar their way.

"Where are you two off to?" she asked.

"Just for a jog," Kendal replied.

Sky glanced from Kendal to Pyrrha. "Is it okay if I come with you?" she asked.

"Um, no, that would be fine," Pyrrha said.

She could hardly refuse, after all, having agreed with Sky that they could have a fresh start. She did not wish to refuse; she wanted the fresh start with Sky, she wanted the good opinion of Jaune's sisters, his family. She wanted them to think that Jaune's heart was in good hands with her.

Safe hands, at least.

"I mean," she added, "it's fine by me."

"And me," Kendal said, although she sounded a little weary about the whole thing. "Come on, get your shoes on."

Sky disappeared back into her bedroom and reappeared just a little while later wearing a pair of black boots, but also with a pair of dark blue shorts and a white t-shirt thrown on in place of her sky blue pyjamas.

The three of them descended the stairs, Kendal leading, then Pyrrha, then Sky bringing up the rear. The dining room was deserted, with no sign or sound that anyone in the Arc house was awake apart from the three of them.

If Kendal and Sky hadn't volunteered to go with her, then Pyrrha would have asked Jaune if he wanted to join her, but she wondered now if there was something the two sisters wished to discuss with her — something about Jaune, perhaps. And besides, if he couldn't sleep in a little at his own childhood home, then where could he?

And so, the three of them stole out of the house, much as Pyrrha and Jaune had stolen out of the house the night before, although they set off in the opposite direction as Kendal led the way not towards the ruined McKinley house, but southwards, towards the other end of the village.

Alba Longa was quiet; evidently, the Arc family — most of them at least — were not the only ones who had yet to wake from slumber and greet the morn. The houses were quiet, the doors were closed, the shops had 'closed' signs up in their windows, those that had shutters over the windows had them down; there was no one out and about. There were a few animals woken up — the goats were back at it, disturbing the gardens and ruining the flower beds; there were a few birds already beginning to sing in the trees — but for the most part, Alba Longa was quiet.

Alba Longa was quiet, and so, the world seemed quiet as Pyrrha, Kendal, and Sky ran through the sleeping village, passing the quaint shops and the wooden houses, passing close by the shore of the silver lake that was starting to glimmer in the red light of the dawn, heading up towards the railway station, where the tracks were quiet and there was no sign of a train.

Kendal ran as though she were holding herself back, as though there was an instinct in her to sprint as fast as she could which she was actively resisting. From what she had told Pyrrha, such an instinct made perfect sense. Sky, on the other hand, was only jogging, not taxing herself too much, keeping a steady pace but not a taxing one. This was definitely light exercise for her, nothing too heavy.

Pyrrha found herself in between the two of them; she could have gone faster, but did not because it would have been bad form to have raced off and left Sky in the dust, but at the same time, she felt no desire to run with everything she had and tire herself. Even if she was getting a shower later, there was no point in working up too much of a sweat. Apart from anything else, she only had the one pair of pyjamas with her, and it would be a fine thing if they started to stink.

Besides, a more sedate pace allowed her once again to marvel at the quiet beauty of Alba Longa; no wonder the people had been caught so by surprise by a sudden grimm incursion; in the light of the morning, it seemed incredible that the events of the night had happened at all. Surely, it had all been some shared hallucination, a dream experienced by many people all at once.

Would that it were the case.

At the railway station — deserted and empty, of course — they turned back, passing near to the tree where Jaune and Pyrrha had sat for a while before making the final journey to his home and coming to a stop beneath the equestrian statue in the centre of the town, of the warrior with the sword that looked so like Crocea Mors.

"Your ancestor, I take it?" Pyrrha asked as she looked up at the statue. There was no plaque on the plinth, no name, but clearly, the statue was of someone's ancestor, and the sword was very suggestive.

Sky nodded. "Bohemund Arc," she said. "He founded this town, one hundred and twenty … three years ago."

"'One hundred and twenty-three'?" Pyrrha repeated. "That's quite specific."

"Sky isn't just the sheriff," Kendal explained. "She's also the town historian."

"Don't say that; you make me sound like a nerd," Sky said sharply.

Kendal shrugged. "If it walks like a duck."

"This is our family story," Sky declared. "We should know it, take pride in it, not let it be forgotten."

Pyrrha thought about her mother and her desire — self-serving and rooted in sheer snobbery though it was — to find out more about Jaune's heritage, to which end Sunset would be arriving in Alba Longa at some point to research it. "Where did he come from, before he founded Alba Longa?"

Sky scratched the back of her head. "I don't actually know," she admitted. "And as far as I know, nobody does. The town records only go back as far as the town itself, or at least, I think they do. I find this stuff interesting, but I don't have all day to spend sifting through all the records, so … it's not like I know everything about the history of Alba Longa; I do have a job to do after all. The only thing I can really tell you is that Crocea Mors is older than the town is. Or it was older, before it broke."

"It can be forged anew," Pyrrha said gently.

"But will it be the same sword afterwards?" Sky replied.

"What matters," Pyrrha said, "is not the sword but what is done with the sword: what cause it fights for, who it defends."

Sky was silent for a moment, before she said, "I guess I can't really argue with that." She paused for a moment. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," Pyrrha said softly.

"Why are you called huntsmen and huntresses?" Sky inquired. "Why aren't you just called 'hunters'?"

"That's your question?" Kendal demanded.

"It's a legitimate question," Sky replied.

"It doesn't really matter, does it?"

"No, but since Pyrrha's here, she might as well answer it if she can."

"Why don't you just ask Dad?"

"What's wrong with me asking Pyrrha?"

"I'm afraid that you might have to ask the Last King of Vale for a true answer as to what he was thinking when he founded the Academies and set up the system of huntsmen and huntresses," Pyrrha said, "but, speaking for myself, I think that the answer must lie in the old stories, the fairy tales of Vale that speak of heroes battling against monsters."

It was interesting to reflect on what huntsmen and huntresses might have been called if one of the other kingdoms had taken the lead in establishing the academy system. If Mistral had founded the four schools, would their graduates be called charioteers? Shepherds of the People? Simply heroes, nothing more or less?

"Those heroes," she went on to the two sisters, "are referred to as huntsmen and huntresses, I believe, just as I believe — if only because it is the most appealing explanation — that the Last King wished to recapture some of that flavour, that ancient glamour from long ago. Hunter is a simpler name, to be sure, but … it is very prosaic; it stirs no trumpet in the soul. What we do … we battle against creatures utterly without soul, creatures of pure malice; they are the darkness, and we are the light, or at least, we are light's guardians. That deserves, or at least it can support, a name out of storybook fable, don't you think?"

Kendal snorted. "You're a romantic through and through, aren't you?"

Pyrrha let out a slight laugh. "I hope you don't mind if I take that as a compliment," she said.

Kendal grinned. "Jaune … has a touch of that himself, I think. He couldn't have said all that so eloquently as you, of course, but … I think he feels it."

"He's very romantic," Pyrrha assured her.

Sky rolled her eyes. "Why do you want to do this?" she asked.

"Do what?" replied Pyrrha, requesting clarification.

"Hunting things, fighting monsters," Sky explained. "Risking your life?"

"Sky—" Kendal began.

Sky held up one hand. "I'm not going to criticise, I'm not going to judge," she insisted. "It's just … we all know that Jaune had no idea what he was doing when he ran off to that school, right? Like it or not, we can both agree that he didn't make a considered, rational decision with all the facts at his disposal, right?"

Kendal was quiet for a moment. "Okay, yes, you've got a point."

"So," Sky said, "I would like to hear from someone who walked into this with their eyes open, knowing all the facts, as to why they did it. If that's okay with you?"

"I…" Pyrrha hesitated for a moment, looking from one Arc sister to the other. She looked upwards, away from both of them, up at the statue of Jaune's ancestor upon his noble steed, sword raised up to the sky.

She clasped her hands together before her. "I…" she began again, and trailed off once more just as she had done before.

"Don't tell me that you don't know," Sky muttered.

"I am … not certain anymore," Pyrrha murmured.

She felt Kendal's hand upon her shoulder. "Not anymore?" Kendal repeated. "Has something changed?"

Jaune, Pyrrha thought, though she almost feared to admit it so baldly. If they thought her romantic now, then what would they think if they found out that her feelings for Jaune threatened to undo her courage? She and Kendal had spoken last night of whether or not she would rather that Jaune did not fight and risk his life, but Kendal had not asked — perhaps she had not thought it needed asking — whether or not Pyrrha would rather not fight herself.

It would not have been a question, not too long ago. But now … was it weak, or dishonourable, that knowing all she did of the threat that confronted the world nevertheless, that her unbounded affection for Jaune Arc should struggle in fierce contest with her sense of duty?

Summer Rose had died young; Pyrrha had reminded Sunset of as much before she and Jaune set out for Alba Longa. Summer Rose had died young, and so might Pyrrha Nikos, so might Jaune Arc, and so she wished to live and love in the days that she possessed, to demonstrate her love for and commitment to him. So she had said, and so she had felt. So she still felt. It was no ignoble struggle in which they were engaged, and to fall in it would likewise be no ignoble sacrifice.

As it is, ten thousand fates of death surround us which no man may escape or avoid. That being so, let us go, and either fall yielding glory to another or else win great glory for ourselves.

And yet…

And yet…

Her feelings for Jaune wound about her like mighty cables, binding her to him so strongly that only the gods themselves could break that bond, and yet, her sense of duty, her Mistralian honour, her destiny came over her like a strong wind and sought to blow her with all those cables towards the battlefield.

And there were times it felt as though she was being pulled in two.

"Ever … ever since I was old enough to understand, I've understood, I've always thought that I had a destiny," she began.

"High opinion of yourself," Sky murmured. "I guess being told you're awesome will do that to you."

"I thought you were being nice now?" Kendal demanded.

"I am being nice," Sky replied. "I'm also being honest."

"My destiny is … I'm not talking about fate," Pyrrha explained. "I'm not talking about portents or prophecies or a voice from the heavens descending down to proclaim great glory in my future … that would be very vain and rather arrogant of me, I agree. What I mean is … a final goal, something to which I've devoted my whole life, a path to walk, a light to guide me in the darkness of uncertainty. My lodestar, you might say. My destiny is to become a huntress, to … to defend places like this and people like you from the perils that surround it. But…"

Neither Sky nor Kendal said anything. They waited, patiently, for her to speak.

"Going to Beacon was the next step on the road towards my destiny," Pyrrha said. "Except … except that something happened that I didn't expect, something that feels as though it could stand between me and my destiny."

"You could just say 'Jaune,' you know," Kendal pointed out. "We're his sisters; we're not going to get offended."

"Well—"

"We're not going to get offended," Kendal repeated heavily. "Or upset in any way."

Sky smirked, then her smirk turned into a genuine smile. "So you love him, and because you love him, you're not certain that you want to give your life, basically?"

"I … yes, I suppose that's it, at heart," Pyrrha murmured. She paused for a moment. "Many of the great heroes of Mistral went to ends far more certain — and far more certainly ill-fated — than any that confronts me presently, and they did so leaving behind spouses and children whom they loved." They must go, that was the heroic theme that resounded from the deathless verses of The Mistraliad and other such epics. They must go. "I have begun to wonder if they would not rather have remained."

"I don't know about your Mistralian heroes, but I don't see that there's any shame in it," Sky said. "It's why Dad quit after Rouge was born."

"Only problem is that Jaune seems to have his heart set on this," Kendal pointed out.

Pyrrha smiled, and a slight chuckle escaped. "I know," she said. "And so, can I ask that you don't mention this to him? He doesn't need to know; trust me, I've no intention of quitting on him."

It was comforting, in a way; she could waver in spirit all that she wanted without it ever really meaning anything, because even if she wished to forsake her destiny, to make Jaune her new lodestar, then he wished to walk the path regardless. He would be her courage, if need be.

"He won't hear about it from us," Kendal assured her. "Will he?" she demanded.

"Of course not," Sky declared. "Anyway, we should probably start back, or else we'll miss breakfast."

They returned to the Arc house fairly swiftly, where Rouge was already up and starting to set the table for breakfast, laying out cutlery at the table.

She looked up as they came in. "Been out for a run?" she asked.

"Yep," Kendal said.

"And you're all still alive, that's good," Rouge murmured dryly. "We're still the first ones out of bed so, Pyrrha, why don't you go jump in the shower first before everyone else gets up while you two help me set the table?"

Kendal nodded. "See you in a little bit, Pyrrha."

"Um, would one of you mind showing me where the shower is?" Pyrrha murmured.

"Sorry," Rouge said. "Kendal, go and show Pyrrha where the bathroom is, then come down and help me set the table."

Kendal led the way back upstairs, and as Rouge had said, it was still pretty quiet up there, with bedroom doors closed and no sounds coming from within. The bathroom lay at the far end of the corridor, past all the bedrooms, and was a spacious room with a free-standing bath and a separate shower cubicle, with the walls covered in tiles of a moderate, neutral blue. A sign hung on the door, a sign which was reversed when they first arrived, but which Kendal flipped around to reveal that it was informing all men — originally, it appeared to have said 'Jaune,' but that had been crossed out in favour of a more all-encompassing term — to stay in their rooms.

Next door was the airing cupboard, from which Kendal fetched Pyrrha some guest towels despite her protestations that she had brought her own towels.

"Enjoy," Kendal said.

And so it was simply a matter of taking her boots off and fetching her toiletries out of her case, and Pyrrha could close the door, step into the shower, and let the water flow through her long red hair and down her back.

It felt as though it was washing away the troubles of the evening before. At that time, it had felt as though this visit might be a complete disaster, but now? Now, the hostility of Sky was at an end, and that of Rouge too, it seemed. Now if she could only win over his parents and Violet, then everything would be perfect, and that … well, she didn't feel as though that would be nearly as difficult a struggle as Jaune had faced with her mother.

Yes, as the water fell down her, Pyrrha felt very content. She might have started humming, but she didn't want to swallow anything.

She did, however, start to hum softly to herself as she stepped out of the shower, drying herself off with the towels that Kendal had loaned to her.

She was still humming as, one towel wrapped around her body and the other around her head, she stepped out of the bathroom.

Ruben was waiting on the other side of the door.

"Morning," he said, smiling down at her.

"Oh," Pyrrha murmured, coming to a stop just before she walked into him. "Good morning."

Ruben stared down at her for a moment or two longer than was strictly necessary — making Pyrrha rather conscious of the fact that this towel barely extended below her hips — before he looked away. "My apologies, I must have missed the sign on the door."

"That's quite all right," Pyrrha said, very softly, barely louder than a whisper. "But if you'll excuse me…" She walked briskly past him, down the corridor in the direction of Kendal's room.

"Is he paying you?" Ruben asked.

Pyrrha came to a stop. One hand was clutching the towel around her body. The other clenched into a fist.

There were some Mistralians who would have responded to the implications of that — if he was, indeed, implying what Pyrrha thought he was implying — with a challenge to a duel to the death; Pyrrha considered herself to be of a milder temperament, but she had her limits nonetheless.

She did not turn back to face him, but rather, with her back to him, she said, "Perhaps you had better explain what you mean by that." Her voice was as soft as ever, but it had gotten a fair few degrees colder if he was paying attention.

"Is little Jauney paying you to come here and play at being his girlfriend?" Ruben elaborated. "Is he paying you to lie for him to try and impress everybody?"

That was not what Pyrrha had thought he had been saying, but the fact that Ruben was not, in fact, calling her a member of the Companions' Guild, didn't make what he was actually saying easy to bear.

Still, she did not turn to face him, and her voice did not warm. "I'm not pretending anything. I am … I am his, as he is mine."

Ruben was silent for a moment. "Why?" he demanded. "What could you possibly—"

"I doubt that you could understand, Mister Meade Arc, even if I were inclined to explain it to you," Pyrrha declared, her voice brittle. "In any case, this is hardly the appropriate circumstances for this or any other sort of conversation, if you will excuse me."

She began to walk once more, quickening her step yet further, remaining just on the right side of running as she made her way down the corridor and into Kendal's room.

She shut the door behind her and breathed in and out deeply. Her chest rose and fell with her deep breathing.

Pyrrha closed her eyes for a moment.

Evidently, last night had not smoothed over all obstacles in her way.

It occurred to her that, perhaps, she had been too harsh, too sour; if Ruben chose to talk about it, Rouge might take it the wrong way and take against Pyrrha once again. But then she remembered that Rouge had been the one to snap at him last night.

Perhaps, if he did choose to make an issue of it, they would understand. Jaune's father had had a Mistralian teammate, and although it seemed that he had been less than fond of her Mistralian manners, perhaps he still remembered the importance of Mistralian honour.

Perhaps. She hoped.

She hoped most of all that Ruben, chastened, would not mention it.

Pyrrha consciously sought to recover her earlier good mood; it was a pity that Jaune's brother-in-law seemed to dislike him, but so long as he was the only one in the family that was … well, it wasn't for her to say whether it was manageable for Jaune or not, but she hoped it was. She would give him whatever he needed to support him if it was not, but she hoped it was.

And she still had reasons for good cheer; she had won over Sky, and Mister Arc did not seem ill disposed towards her.

Today was a new day, and many good things might lie in store. She could not let Ruben Meade Arc get her down.

She was visiting Jaune's family. Jaune had invited her to visit his family.

And some of them, at least, found her suitable.

If that was not reason to wear a smile and put all gloomy thoughts to one side for now, then what was?

Of course, it was not enough to wear a smile; she had to wear something else too, and not these towels either, and so Pyrrha swooped down upon her luggage and began giving thought to what to wear.

She wanted to make a good impression, of course; or rather, she wanted to continue leaving a good impression on those who were well disposed towards her. She wanted to be herself; that was why she had packed as she had, with her own clothes and not with the products of a last-minute shopping trip to some fast-fashion outlet. She wanted them to know … she would have said that she wanted them to know who Pyrrha Nikos was, but that might be a little much to extrapolate from a wardrobe; she wanted them, at least, to know her tastes: elegant, feminine, lovely to look upon.

And yet, she felt as though wearing something too fancy during the day might be a little inappropriate; such things could wait until the evening, when they were more proper.

At the same time, of course, she wanted to look pretty for Jaune, if at all possible.

Considering all these things, taking these factors into account, Pyrrha chose a gown of red, darker at the top and shading into lighter hues the further down her body it fell.

Her gown was really in two parts. Bodice and skirt alike were one, the gown being shoulderless, albeit with a high back that revealed little below her shoulder blades; it had a sweetheart neckline, trimmed with gold, and the bodice hugged the curves of her figure closely as it descended; Pyrrha bound her crimson sash around her waist, although she did not use the disc bearing her emblem to secure it there but merely tied it off in place. The skirt fell at the back below her ankles, but at the sides and especially before her, the hem ascended to expose more of her feet and legs to view; there was a slit at the front that would have exposed a great deal indeed if it were not for the underskirt of pale pink, itself dropping lower at the back and higher at the front, that emerged from out beneath the skirt and concealed her knees and thighs from view.

On her arms and shoulders, Pyrrha wore a maroon bolero, its long sleeves embracing her arms down to past the wrists, covering all of her back and shoulders that her gown did not while leaving a little at the front exposed to view. The bolero fastened tightly about her throat with a large emerald brooch about the size of a chicken egg, while three smaller emeralds dangled from it to rest coolly upon her bare skin. Pyrrha wore her honour band over her sleeve and set her gleaming golden circlet on her brow, although she did not bother to bind her up her hair, letting it hang loose behind her down past her waist.

Upon her feet, she wore a pair of black, high-heeled pumps, with black straps that wound upwards around her feet and ankles.

There was no mirror in Kendal's room to check her appearance, and the little hand mirror in her compact that Pyrrha used to check that she had applied her eyeshadow correctly was nowhere near large enough, but nevertheless, Pyrrha thought that she had done well.

Hopefully, she wasn't the only one to think so.

She fussed with her skirt for a moment, smoothing it out, adjusting the lie of the underskirt, making sure that she was comfortable with what could be seen, before she stepped out of Kendal's room and into the corridor.

Once more, she nearly walked into a man; fortunately, this time, it turned out to be Jaune, wearing his onesie and slippers.

"I'm sorry," she said as she stepped back from bumping into him. She smiled. "Good morning, Jaune." This time, Pyrrha took the initiative, leaning forward to plant a soft kiss upon the corner of his mouth.

Jaune's cheeks began to light up. A little laugh escaped his mouth before he said, "Good morning. Did you sleep well, I mean, as well as you could considering—?"

"I slept … very contentedly," Pyrrha said. "Thank you. And you?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Jaune said. He paused for a moment. "You're all ready?"

"Yes, I think I managed to get in the shower before anyone else, except maybe Rouge."

"Well, you look … how'd I ever get so lucky?"

"Kindness," Pyrrha said softly, reaching out to take his hands in hers. "Consideration. Understanding." She squeezed his hands. "And a pair of beautiful blue eyes didn't hurt either."

Jaune looked down at their hands, his held in hers, before he looked up into her eyes once more. "Do you want to go down and get something to eat?"

"Aren't you going to get ready first?"

"I'll do it after," Jaune told her. "It's a lot easier if we take it in turns."

"I understand," Pyrrha said. "Then I would love to."

They were hand in hand as they walked down the stairs, emerging into the dining room to see the table almost made up. Unlike dinner the night before, there was no table cloth in evidence, but there were place settings, and much like the night before, bowls of food — fresh fruit, grapefruit, yoghurt, muesli — was laid out in the centre of the table, along with several glass jugs full of different coloured juices.

Rouge Arc was polishing a glass as Pyrrha and Jaune came down.

"Jaune!" she groaned.

"Good morning to you too, Rouge," Jaune replied.

Rouge rolled her eyes a little. "Good morning, Jaune," she said perfunctorily. "Now, Jaune!"

"What?" Jaune asked, a little laughter in his voice.

"What are you wearing?" Rouge demanded.

"The same thing I've worn to bed for years, my Pumpkin Pete onesie," Jaune said.

"Still haven't got rid of that thing, huh?" Sky asked. She had a cup of something in her hand that she was sipping from.

"Why would I? It's really comfortable."

"The defender of mankind," Sky muttered.

"It's not about the onesie," Rouge declared. "Not about the onesie in isolation, anyway. It's about … how can you dress like that when Pyrrha is dressed like that?"

She put down the glass and gestured with one hand towards Pyrrha, her red gown and maroon bolero.

Pyrrha looked away. The last thing that she had wanted to do was embarrass Jaune. "I'm sorry, I should have realised that I'd be over—"

"It's not your fault, Pyrrha," Rouge assured her. "It's nice to have someone with some class and elegance around the house."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Kendal.

"I think you can guess," Rouge said. "Anyway, Pyrrha, breakfast around here is a little more informal than dinner; people drift down when they want to, pretty much, so sit down, help yourself. Would you like anything, pancakes, sausage, bacon, eggs? I'll just dive into the kitchen and whip them up for you."

"No, thank you," Pyrrha said as she and Jaune sat down side by side about halfway down the table. "I wouldn't want you to trouble yourself."

"Oh, it's no trouble," Rouge assured her. "Dad will want a cooked breakfast, I'm sure, and Aoko needs one because she forgets lunch more often than not."

"That's very kind of you," Pyrrha said. "But I'll be fine."

"Suit yourself," Rouge said. "Baby brother? Since we only have you for a few days, I suppose you should be treated like a guest as well."

"Uh, I'll have some pancakes?" Jaune half-said, half-asked.

Rouge smiled. "Coming right up," she said, turning away and walking through the swinging doors into the kitchen.

Sky took another sip out of her cup. "You want some coffee, Pyrrha?"

"No, thank you," Pyrrha said, reaching for the jug of grapefruit juice.

"You don't have to be nervous about saying yes," Kendal assured her. "We wouldn't offer if we weren't willing to do it."

That may have been true, but it didn't mean that Pyrrha wanted to start treating Jaune's sisters like the help.

She heard a rapid pitter-patter of feet coming down the stairs and looked around to see Violet leapt down into the dining room. She must have gotten showered already, because she was wearing a purple dress over a white blouse.

"Good morning, Jaune!" she said brightly, greeting him with a smile.

Jaune smiled at her. "Morning, Violet."

Violet took a seat at the table opposite Jaune, before regarding Pyrrha with a distinctly frosty gaze. "You're still here," she declared.

Jaune sighed. "Violet, stop it."

"Stop what?" Violet asked.

"Be nice to Pyrrha, okay?" Jaune asked. "Please? For me?"

Violet folded her arms. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"It's alright," Pyrrha said, putting a hand on Jaune's arm.

"No," Jaune said, "it isn't."

The sound of shambling footsteps preceded the arrival of Aoko Arc, back hunched over, hair dishevelled, wearing the same ill-fitting t-shirt and shorts that she'd been wearing at dinner the night before. She had one hand against the wall, as if she needed it for support.

"Morning," she moaned.

"Morning," Kendal murmured. "How late did you stay up last night?"

"You know the time when everyone got up and started talking really loud downstairs?"

"Uh huh," Kendal said.

"I stayed up until after that," Aoko said dully. She approached the table, arms swinging slightly back and forth as they fell down in front of her. "I'd like three sausages—"

"Hang on, Rouge is in the kitchen right now," Sky told her.

"Oh, right," Aoko said.

She just about managed to reach the seat next to Pyrrha and sat down. She sat there for a moment, staring into the ether, and only then did she seem to notice that Pyrrha was there beside her.

She looked at Pyrrha and blinked owlishly. "Hello," she said. "You're new."

"Actually, she was here last night," Kendal pointed out.

Aoko blinked again. "You … who are you?"

"I'm Pyrrha Nikos," Pyrrha said. "I'm here with Jaune."

"She's Jaune's girlfriend," Kendal clarified in a sing-song voice.

"'Girlfriend,'" Aoko repeated, slowly, as though she were mulling the word over with her tongue. She looked at Kendal. "We had a bet—"

"Yes, yes, we did," Kendal said. "And we lost; River won."

Aoko frowned. "Who did I pick again?"

"The kid in the red cape," Kendal said. "I told you she was too young-looking. Can I just ask, is she actually that young, or does she just look it?"

"That's Ruby," Jaune explained. "She's only fifteen."

"'Fifteen'?" Kendal repeated. "Then what's she doing at Beacon?"

"She was let in early," Aoko said.

Jaune looked at her. "Did Twilight tell you that?"

"No, it was obvious," Aoko replied. "She's too young to get in, ergo, she must have been let in early." She paused for a moment. "Congratulations, by the way. Is it pretty cool, having a girlfriend?"

Jaune chuckled. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, it is pretty cool."

"Welcome to the family," Aoko said, her words emerging in fits and starts out of her mouth. "There is a lot of yelling."

The doors to the kitchen swung open again, and Rouge emerged, carrying a plate with three pancakes sitting on it. "Here you go, Jaune," she said, setting the plate down in front of him. "Morning, Vi; morning, Aoko."

"I'd like three sausages," Aoko began.

"Morning, y'all," Chester greeted them as he and River came down the stairs; he was wearing a faded rock band t-shirt and a pair of shorts, while River was wearing a blue blouse with puffed sleeves and an ankle-length skirt of matching colour, with a lighter blue sash around her waist tied into a bow at the back of her waist.

"Morning," Rouge greeted them.

"You didn't call Chester out for not being dressed as well as River," Jaune pointed out as he spread some butter on his pancakes; it started to melt almost instantly.

"She's given up all hope for me," Chester said.

"That may or may not be true," River added, "but Chester is not wearing a Pumpkin Pete…" She trailed off.

Chester put one arm around her. "Honey?"

River walked away without another word, pushing the kitchen doors open and disappearing inside.

"River?" Rouge called. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine," River said, although it was not just her voice that emerged from the kitchen, but the sound of things falling and rattling as well.

"Are you sure?" Sky demanded. "It sounds like—"

"I will put everything back eventually," River insisted. "I just need to find something. It's in here somewhere."

"What is, honey?" Chester asked. "Are you having cravings?"

"No, I'm not having cravings."

"'Cravings'?" Jaune repeated. "Why would River be having cravings?"

"Good morning, everyone," Saphron said as she and Terra came down into the dining room. They were both dressed, Saphron wearing a brown bomber jacket with a fur lining over a burnt orange turtleneck, and Terra was wearing a blue summer dress with puffed shoulders and dark blue jeans under her short skirt.

"Good morning," Pyrrha said, turning to look at them. She gasped, a smile spreading across her face. "And who is this?" she cooed, her voice taking on a breathless affect, every word exaggeratedly drawn out.

Because in Terra's arms, she was holding a little boy with a soft round face and plenty of baby fat still in his cheeks. He looked far more like Terra's son than Saphron's — he had her skin tone, her brown eyes, and her black hair, cut shortish and looking very soft as it fell down across his forehead and covered one of his eyebrows — and Pyrrha remembered what Terra had said about giving the family their first grandchild. He was dressed in a white and blue striped shirt, his little hands emerging from out of the sleeves, with dark blue overalls on over the top and white and grey socks enclosing his little feet.

"This is Adrian," Terra said, bouncing Adrian up and down in her arms a little, making him gurgle happily, "our son."

"Aww," Jaune said. "I haven't seen him since he was just a baby."

"He still is half a baby," Saphron said, and Adrian seemed to understand that, since he seemed to pout upon hearing it. "But he's a baby who can recognise faces now, so, Adrian, why don't you meet your Uncle Jaune?"

Jaune got up, leaving the butter to melt into his pancakes as he crossed the short distance separating him from Saphron and Terra. He bent down, stooping so that he was level with Adrian's face rather than looming over him.

"Hey, there, little guy," he said, in much the same breathless, half-whispery, half-excited voice that Pyrrha had used when she first caught sight of him. "I'm your cool Uncle Jaune!"

"Well, you're half right," Sky muttered.

Jaune ignored her, carrying on, "And when you're older, you can come to me for advice about anything."

He beamed and waggled one finger in front of Adrian's face.

Adrian grinned and chuckled, but he ignored Jaune's finger and instead reached out across the short distance separating their faces to grab a strand of Jaune's hair from his fringe.

"Hey!" Jaune squawked, while Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand as a little giggle escaped from between her lips.

Adrian laughed as well, even as he let Jaune go.

Jaune straightened up. "He's got a grip on him already," he said.

"Be nice to Uncle Jaune, Adrian," Saphron chided her son, "and be grateful you don't have any older sisters."

She and Terra — still carrying Adrian — walked around the table, and as they did so, Adrian waved to Pyrrha, making indistinct and wordless noises as he passed.

"Hello!" Pyrrha said, waving back to him. "My name's Pyrrha; it's nice to meet you!"

Adrian cried out something which, though it made no sense, certainly sounded cheerful.

"I think he likes you," Saphron said.

"He's got a good sense for people," Terra added with a wink at Pyrrha.

"Is he eating solid food already?" Jaune asked. "How old is he now? He can't be more than—"

"Almost two," Saphron said.

"What's up with the war in the kitchen?" Terra asked.

Rouge winced as something crashed in the kitchen. "River is … well, we don't rightly know what River's doing."

Jaune began, "What was that you were saying about—?"

"I KNEW IT!" River yelled. A moment later, she stomped out of the kitchen, and in one hand, she was holding a box of Pumpkin Pete's Marshmallow Flakes.

With Pyrrha's face on the box.

Jaune whimpered wordlessly as River strode around the table.

She reached through the gap between Pyrrha and Aoko to slam the box down onto the table next to Pyrrha.

"What do you think of that?" she demanded.

Judging by the way he reached towards the box with both hands, what Adrian thought was that he wanted some cereal.

Aoko bent down and craned her head around the box. "Huh," she said. "That girl on the box looks like you, Pyrrha."

"It is Pyrrha!" River cried. "Pyrrha is the girl on the cereal box!"

A chorus of ohs and oohs followed from the Arcs.

Sky folded her arms. "You really are a bigshot, aren't you? They only put huge celebrities and cartoon characters on cereal boxes."

Pyrrha felt her smile becoming fused to her face. "I suppose you could say that."

"So how did you manage it?" Sky asked.

"I told you all last night," Terra said. "She won the Mistral Regional Tournament four years in a row, the only person in the tournament's history to win that often, let alone consecutively."

"How old is the tournament?" inquired Kendal.

Terra's eyes narrowed. "Hundreds of years?"

"The first tournament that can be historically proven took place eight hundred and sixty years ago," Pyrrha murmured. "Although there are scholars who insist that there is evidence of it being much older, and of course, it descends from earlier forms of entertainment."

"That," Aoko said, "is a very long time."

"You said it, Aoko," Kendal replied.

Saphron glanced at Terra. "You knew about this, didn't you?"

"Yes," Terra said.

"You know," Saphron said, "communication is the key to a successful marriage."

Terra smiled. "Then let me communicate to you that I'm not going to spill all of Pyrrha's secrets to you; if Pyrrha wants to tell you, then she can; if not, then she doesn't have to."

"But it might be important," Saphron declared.

"If I knew that Pyrrha had … killed someone in a match, then of course I'd tell you," Terra said, "but what difference does it really make whether her face is on a cereal box or not?"

"Terra makes a very good point," Rouge pronounced. "It does feel a little strange, having one of the mascots of Pumpkin Pete be a guest in our home — and Jaune's girlfriend, what is more — but the fact of the matter is that Pyrrha remains, first and foremost, Jaune's girlfriend."

"First and foremost and only, please," Pyrrha pleaded softly. "To tell the truth, I was rather glad when none of you noticed."

"Fine by me," Violet said. "That cereal's for children anyway."

"This isn't about Pyrrha," River insisted.

"It's not?" Aoko asked.

"Obviously, it's a little bit about Pyrrha," River admitted. "But do none of you remember? Jaune brought like fifty boxes of this stupid cereal to get that hoodie! And most of them had Pyrrha's face on them — even though, at the time, we didn't know that it was Pyrrha — and—"

"And we teased him that he'd fallen for the girl on the box!" Kendal cried. She clapped her hands together and laughed delightedly. "Oh my God, that is—"

"Hilarious," Sky said.

"I was going to say incredible," Kendal said, "but that too." A grin blossomed across her face. "And to think that you tried to deny it at the time."

Jaune pushed his plate of pancakes away, the better to slam his head down onto the table and let out a wordless groan.

"If you're not going to eat those pancakes, then give them here," Aoko said, "I'm starving."

"Oh, come on, Jaune," River said, patting him on the back. "You have to let us have this; this is … this is too much. I mean, you fell in love with the girl on the Pumpkin Pete's cereal box."

"I did not fall in love with … okay, I did fall in love with the girl on the cereal box, but it's not the way you make it sound," Jaune said, turning his head so that Pyrrha could see his face and his voice could escape away from the table.

Pyrrha put one hand upon his arm. "It isn't how you all seem to think."

"I'm glad to hear it," Rouge said. "Falling in love with a girl based on her picture on a box, that's storybook twaddle. I'd lose a lot of respect for any girl who went out with a boy on that kind of basis, even if that boy was my own brother."

"You can rest easy then," Pyrrha assured her. "As I say, like you, Jaune had completely forgotten about me, or at least, he didn't recognise me when he met me in person." She felt her cheeks flush a little, and she couldn't resist adding. "He told me it was because I was so much prettier in person."

"Aww," the female Arcs — save for Violet and Aoko — chorused, whether sincerely or mockingly, Pyrrha couldn't tell.

"You always were a sweetheart, Jaune," Kendal said.

River took a seat next to Jaune. Chester took the seat opposite her.

"So," River said, "how did you two end up together?"

"Yeah," Sky said, leaning forwards on the table. "I mean … Jaune, you're my brother, so I love you, and Pyrrha, I like you a lot better than I did last night, but I have to ask, I think we all have to ask … how? Why?"

"Why does everyone feel the need to ask that?" Pyrrha asked in turn, allowing a touch of weariness to enter into her voice.

Kendal's eyes narrowed. "Who else has asked?"

"Ruben," Pyrrha said, "as I was coming out of the bathroom."

"Ruben was there when you were coming out of the bathroom?" River squawked.

"I apologise for my husband," Rouge said, "but, unlike him, we want to know out of…"

"Amusement?" Kendal suggested.

"That," Rouge admitted. "But also out of love."

"Hey, kids," Mister Arc said, as he and his wife came downstairs. "What's going on?"

"We just found out that Jaune's girlfriend is Jaune's girlfriend," Aoko muttered.

"I think that was rather obvious, sweetie," Mrs. Arc said gently.

"No, Mom, take a look at this," Saphron said, reaching across the table to pick up the cereal box — Adrian briefly reached for it in vain, the longing noises that he made going unheeded — and turning it around so that the Arc parents could see Pyrrha's face upon it.

"This is the cereal that Jaune bought all those boxes of to get that Pumpkin Pete's hoodie he wears, and it's—"

"Pyrrha," Mrs. Arc murmured. "Oh my. Oh my goodness. And oh, my word, that's a lovely dress you're wearing, dear; let me take a look at you."

"Of course, ma'am," Pyrrha murmured, getting up from her seat and walking in front of it so that there was nothing to obstruct Mrs. Arc's view of her gown and bolero. She gripped the skirt between her forefingers and thumbs, spreading it out a little on either side of her, then briefly turned around, her red sash flowing around her, so that she could see the back as well.

"Oh, that looks beautiful," Mrs. Arc said. "And you look beautiful, Pyrrha."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"Pyrrha was just about to tell us how she and Jaune got together," River said.

"Really?" Mister Arc said as he took his seat at the head of the table.

"That does sound fascinating," Mrs. Arc said as she sat down beside her husband.

Pyrrha swallowed, conscious of all eyes upon her. "Well," she murmured, "Jaune…"

Jaune looked at her apologetically. "Would you mind?" he asked. "I … sorry, but…"

"All right," Pyrrha said softly. She looked around the room and suddenly found herself wishing that she could look somewhere else. She ended up focussing on Adrian, the one person who wasn't staring at her intently.

It was rather comforting.

Pyrrha cleared her throat. "As I said," she began, "Jaune didn't recognise me when we first met, which was on our first day at Beacon. I was … well, I was rather taken with Jaune at once, but Jaune…" She glanced at him.

"It's okay," he said, lifting his head off the table somewhat. "You can tell them."

Pyrrha nodded. "Jaune," she said again, "Jaune had eyes for someone else."

"Who?" Violet asked.

"Weiss Schnee," Jaune groaned.

"Weiss Schnee?" Kendal repeated incredulously.

"I know, I know, it was stupid."

"You say that, but then you did end up with Pyrrha, who is something of a celebrity herself, it seems," Saphron pointed out.

"There's a difference between Pyrrha and a Schnee," Kendal said. "No offence, Pyrrha."

"None taken," Pyrrha assured. After all, in Mistral, the difference would be quite different than you mean.

"Was it hard for you?" asked Rouge.

Pyrrha looked at her. "Was what hard for me?"

"Watching Jaune chase after this Weiss Schnee," Rouge murmured. "You told us that you liked Jaune from the moment you met him, but he … Again, I'm … I'm surprised. He ignored you, he made your heart ache, and yet, you reward him with love and affection. It sounds…" She sighed. "It sounds a little desperate to me."

"It wasn't like that," Pyrrha said immediately. "Jaune didn't make my heart ache, and he didn't pursue Weiss for that long. It was … when did Sunset make you leave her alone, Jaune?"

"A few weeks, maybe as little as two," Jaune said. "It was after she got back from that team leader mission."

"Who's Sunset?" asked Saphron.

"Our team leader," Jaune explained. "She's the one in the picture with flaming hair. She told me to back off Weiss and leave her alone."

"And in any case," Pyrrha added, "for the most part, Jaune was a very attentive partner."

River grinned. "So when did you see that what you were looking for had been there the whole time?"

Pyrrha found herself smiling at the memory. "That was during our last vacation," she said. "You see, I'd invited my teammates to come back to Mistral with me and be my guests. My mother … my mother…"

"Pyrrha's mom didn't like me very much," Jaune finished for her. "Oh, by the way, Sunset, my team leader? After Dad's birthday party, she's going to come down here to research our family history."

"What does our family history have to do with anything?" Mister Arc demanded.

"It's my fault," Pyrrha murmured. "My family is … my family is rather old, in Mistral. Old and noble and proud. As Jaune told you, I'm afraid my mother didn't like Jaune very much." She paused for a moment. "We went to a party together, Jaune and I, and Sunset and Ruby, our teammates. We ended up separated, each going our own way, and I ended up alone. Until Jaune saw me alone. He was … very considerate. Very kind. The truth is, whatever you may have thought about him buying those cereal boxes, however you may have teased him, however Jaune may have felt at the time, I've never doubted that Jaune saw me for me, Pyrrha Nikos, not the four-time champion of the tournament, not the Invincible Girl, not the Princess—"

"'Princess'?!" Violet cried.

Pyrrha winced, realising that her words had gotten away from her a little.

"That … that's kind of what Pyrrha meant when she said 'old family'," Jaune admitted. "Pyrrha's family, her ancestors, they used to—"

"To rule Mistral," Pyrrha finished for him. It felt like it was her place to say it. "My ancestors were Emperors and Empresses of Mistral."

"Hence, Pyrrha is known in Mistral as the Princess Without a Crown," Terra murmured.

River whistled.

"And you're dating our Jaune?" Sky asked.

"As I said, he sees me for me," Pyrrha reminded her. "But my mother was not very happy when she saw our … burgeoning attraction. She told Jaune that I was engaged to another man."

"Are you?!" demanded Violet.

"No!" Pyrrha cried. "I would never treat Jaune that way. I was furious when I found out. I told my mother that I was going to leave home at once, and … then I kissed Jaune. And he kissed me."

"That's sweet," Mister Arc said. "And I mean that sincerely. But if that's the case, I don't see what it has to do with your team leader coming down here to look into our history."

"Because … my mother reached out to me," Pyrrha explained. "She wanted to make amends, to mend the rift between us. She was prepared to accept my being in a relationship with Jaune, but to save face, she would prefer it if there could be some evidence found that Jaune is of a noble ancestry."

"Then, no offence, but why don't you look yourself?" asked Chester.

"Because it doesn't particularly bother me," Pyrrha replied, "but Sunset is fond of my mother, and she wishes to do her this service."

"Maybe you can help, Sky?" Mrs. Arc suggested. "You know about the town's history, after all."

"The town's history, not the family's," Sky said. "Like I told Pyrrha, the records don't go further back than the town's founding. But she's welcome to look, and I suppose I could see if there's anything I can add to help her with it."

"I'm sure that will be much appreciated," Pyrrha said. "Thank you."

Sky shrugged. "I'm not sure what she'll find."

"It might be kind of cool if we turned out to be lords and ladies," River said.

"What does it matter nowadays?" Sky asked.

"It matters in Mistral," Terra murmured.

"I understand now," Mrs. Arc said softly, "why you threatened to leave, Jaune." She smiled. "After all, Pyrrha already walked away from her mother; I don't suppose you could have decently told her that you couldn't walk away from yours. I hope you realise what a lucky girl you are, Pyrrha Nikos."

Pyrrha bowed her head. "Believe me, ma'am, I'm very aware."

"I just have one question," Aoko murmured. "When is somebody going to make me some breakfast?"

The sound of laughter filled the dining room.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Adventures in Babysitting​

It was a little later in the morning; everyone was showered and dressed, and the table had been cleared away after breakfast.

It was at that point, with the whole family gathered in the dining room, that Sky chose to say, "Oh, Jaune, that question you were asking earlier about why we thought River might be having cravings? She's pregnant."

The whole room fell silent. River looked at Sky. "Really? Really?"

"You would have forgotten to tell him," Sky said. "You had forgotten to tell him."

"That … okay, that's fair enough," River muttered.

"You're … you're pregnant?" Jaune repeated. "You're having a baby?"

"That is what being pregnant means, yeah," River said. "And why so surprised? I am married."

"I'm not surprised!" Jaune squawked. "I just…" He let out a laugh. "This is great! Congratulations!" He spread his arms out wide. "Can I give you a hug, or will it hurt the baby?"

"You can give me a hug," River said, holding her arms out in turn and allowing Jaune to embrace her in a bear hug, even as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders in turn.

"This is incredible," Jaune said, as he lifted her up off the floor for a moment. "I'm going to be an uncle for the second time! Cool Uncle Jaune."

"Again," Sky said, "one of those words is correct."

Jaune put River down on the floor. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Things happened to get in the way," River replied. "You know, first, you were back, and that was a big thing, and then you were fighting with Sky, and … well, like Sky said, at times, I've forgotten that I hadn't already told you. I mean, everyone else found out days or weeks ago."

"Really?" Jaune said. "Days or weeks?"

"If you didn't want to be the last to know the family news, you shouldn't have run away from home, baby brother," River said, reaching up a little to flick him on the nose. "Although I probably shouldn't have told Pyrrha before I told you."

Jaune stared at Pyrrha. "You knew?"

"Well, I didn't think you'd want to hear it from me instead of from River herself," Pyrrha murmured apologetically. "I didn't think that River would want you to hear it from me instead of from her."

Jaune sighed. "You're right, you're right. It's not your fault." He looked at River again. "It's yours."

"But you can't stay mad at me because I'm having a baby," River declared. "It's a rule."

"That is not a rule!" Jaune cried. "But it is true." He paused for a moment. "I take it that means I missed the celebration?"

"We're having a party in just a couple of days; you can celebrate then," Kendal reminded him.

"Great," grumbled Mister Arc, "that makes me feel appreciated."

"You know what I mean, Dad," Kendal said. "Of course it's your birthday, but this year, it feels like we've got so much more to celebrate too."

Mister Arc made a wordless sound that could have meant any number of things.

"It will still be your party first and foremost, Dad," Sky assured him. "Anyway, right now, I need to head out. I have to go and see the—"

"Sheriff!"

"Hello there, Mister Mayor, come on in; the door's open," Sky said smoothly as a man, as yet unknown to Pyrrha, entered the dining room via the hall.

The presumable Mayor of Alba Longa was a short, somewhat rotund beaver faunus with a pair of exaggerated front teeth sticking out of his mouth; he had more than one chin, and the dark brown hair on top of his head seemed subtly different than the hair around his crown. He was dressed in a brown suit with a white shirt and a red bow tie.

"Sheriff Arc," he said, "what's this I hear about a grimm attack on the outskirts of town?"

"I was just about to come and see you about that, Mister Mayor," Sky said. "I don't think there's any reason to worry—"

"No reason to worry!" the mayor cried. "There was a grimm attack! On our town! It destroyed the McKinley farm!"

"And then it died," Sky reminded him. "And there is no evidence that there are any more of them out there."

"For now!" replied the mayor. "You don't know that there won't be more of them coming soon. Our town has been safe for now, but it seems that time is over!"

"That's an assumption; it might be as long until a grimm next shows up as it was before that one did."

"So is that your plan, Sheriff?" the mayor demanded. "To do nothing and hope that this is an isolated incident?"

"No, I'm going to hire a huntsman to take a look around, kill any grimm that might be in the area, and provide some recommendations on how we can protect ourselves."

"A huntsman?" the mayor repeated. "Well, yes, I suppose that's not a bad idea, but their fee is going to come out of your budget, Sheriff."

"Of course, Mister Mayor," Sky said. "That's a sacrifice that I'm prepared to make."

The mayor was silent for a moment. "Your brother-in-law came to see me earlier this morning," he said.

"Is he the one who told you about the attack?" Sky asked.

"That's not important," the mayor said. "The point is, the point he made to me is, that we've got a lot of fine fellows in this town who know how to shoot, and we could—"

"Mister Mayor, last deer season, Ned Gansevant shot Jimmy Prescott by mistake because he saw something moving in the trees and fired at it; Jimmy was lucky not to die or lose an arm. It's the reason why I hate deer season, and it's the reason Sheriff Pearl hated it too; we have too many close calls already. Now I know that you and Ruben think that this is a good idea but I guarantee that if you tell people there is a reason to be scared and they need to go out and find that scary thing and shoot it we will be burying one of our neighbours regardless of whether there are any grimm out there."

"Hmm," the mayor murmured. "Some of our boys can be a little bit trigger-happy. We wouldn't want any accidents. That wouldn't help at all. Still, are you sure one huntsman will be enough?"

"I can try and find the money to spring for two," Sky suggested.

"If you could spring for ten or twenty, that would make me happy," the mayor said. "A grimm. A grimm! That this should happen when I'm mayor."

"You have been mayor for twenty years, Mister Mayor."

"And I still have a lot to give this precious town," the mayor insisted. He paused for a moment. "There are a lot of anxious people out there, Sheriff. Word's starting to spread."

"From Ruben?"

"From the McKinleys, and the Kents," the mayor said. "Everyone knows that they've been made homeless. I've decided to call a town meeting. You can tell everyone what you plan to do about this, and hopefully, it will convince people to stop worrying. We can also decide how we can all help the McKinleys in their hour of need. After all, we're like a family here in Alba Longa."

"I'll be there," Sky promised.

"One hour, in the town hall," the mayor said, before turning away. He stopped, turned back, and bowed his head. "Good morning, Mrs. Arc, I'm terribly sorry to disturb you."

"Not at all, Mister Mayor," Mrs. Arc replied. "And how is your wife this morning?"

"Nervous, like everyone else," the mayor said. "Hopefully, our Sheriff can soothe her agitation."

He turned away again, and this time he did walk away, his footsteps echoing down the hall. There was the sound of the front door opening and closing.

Sky drew back her shoulder. "Okay. I guess I know what I'm doing today."

"What we're all doing," Mister Arc said. "We'll all go to the meeting. After all, this is our home."

"But I've still got so much to do," Rouge protested.

"There are a few things that are more important than my party, and this is one of them," Mister Arc declared. "Besides, if we don't show our faces, people will wonder why."

"I know, Dad, I know," Rouge murmured. She rested her hands on the table, then looked up at Jaune. "I'll just have to work harder once the meeting is over."

"Don't push yourself too hard, sweetheart," Mister Arc said. "I mean, I'm not perfect; why should my party be perfect?"

Rouge smiled. "Thanks, Dad. But I want to try anyway."

"Hey, Jaune," Saphron said. "You don't really live here any more, so there's no need for you to go to the meeting; would you mind watching Adrian for me?"

"Uh," Jaune said, the blurted word falling from his lips. "I mean, yeah, sure, I'd love to, but … I mean, you don't live here either—"

"No, but Terra and I can find … something to do," Saphron said. "And you can spend some quality time with your nephew. You didn't really want to take Pyrrha to a town meeting, did you?"

"I mean…" Jaune glanced at Pyrrha.

Pyrrha, for her part, said nothing. She didn't feel as though it was her place to say one way or another; this wasn't her home, after all. Admittedly, the idea of a town meeting didn't sound particularly inviting, but if Jaune wanted to go, then she wasn't going to stand in his way. Perhaps the people of Alba Longa might want to hear from a huntsman in training.

On second thought, perhaps not; it seemed unlikely on the evidence thus far presented that the people of Alba Longa would wish to hear from Jaune Arc at the present time.

To be honest, she would not have minded spending a little time with Adrian; he was a very cute child. And she had been wondering what they were going to do here in the days leading up to Mister Arc's party.

But again, this was Jaune's home and Jaune's choice.

Jaune must have realised that she was not going to intrude her own opinion into this, because he turned back to Saphron and said, "Babysitting sounds great."

"Awesome!" Saphron cried. "And don't worry; it'll be a cinch."

And so, an hour later, Pyrrha and Jaune found themselves in the Arcs' living room, where a red settee sat against the back wall of the wood-panelled room, together with a couple of large stuffed armchairs and one or two smaller, lighter chairs besides. There was no television, Pyrrha noticed, although there was an upright piano in the corner of the room and a couple of bookshelves standing against the wall nearest the door, along with a liquor cabinet.

Pyrrha and Jaune sat down together on the settee, side by side, as Saphron and Terra came up behind them.

"Here you go," Saphron said, holding out little Adrian to Jaune; he was facing away from Jaune, arms outstretched towards his mother, who said to him, "Now you be a good boy for Uncle Jaune, okay? He's going to look after you for a little bit while Mommy and Mommy are away."

Adrian made a noise, but he continued to reach for Saphron even as she handed him to Jaune. Jaune, for his part, took the little boy almost reverently in his grasp, holding onto him with both hands and lowering him quickly to sit upon Jaune's lap, resting upon Jaune's slightly faded blue jeans as though he were afraid that if he tarried too long, he might drop his nephew.

"And here are his things," Terra said, holding out a zip-up bag to Pyrrha. "We're not going to be gone so long that you'll need half of this stuff, but it's better to be safe than sorry, right?"

"Of course," Pyrrha agreed, taking the bag from her unresisting hands. Inside – it was not zipped up — there were some toys, a storybook, a blanket, and a few other things buried underneath that Pyrrha couldn't quite make out. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me; you're the one doing us a favour," Terra said. "I love him, but it is a little exhausting having to be a mom all the time. Not that he'll be difficult in any way, I hasten to add before you change your mind."

Pyrrha chuckled. "I'm sure he'll be a little angel," she said. "Won't you?" she asked, reaching out towards Adrian with one finger. "Won't you?"

Terra grinned. "We'll leave you to it."

"Thanks again," Saphron added as she and Terra retreated towards the door.

"Oh," Terra added, turning back in the doorway. "He likes the airship best at the moment."

"Have fun, you two!" Jaune called, as the two of them retreated.

They left, and the house was quiet. Silent, in fact; everyone was out, either at the town meeting or else enjoying the break. In the whole house, there were just the three of them: Pyrrha, Jaune, and Adrian, and they were all in this room together.

Jaune glanced at her. "Sorry about this," he said apologetically.

"It's fine," Pyrrha assured him. "I don't mind."

"Really? Because I'm sure that whatever you expected … this trip so far hasn't been what you expected, has it?"

"It's fine, Jaune," Pyrrha insisted. "It's true that things got off to a bit of a rough start, but that was much more directed at you than at me, and … and I think it's safe to say that things have improved a lot since then." She looked into the bag. "The airship, huh?"

There it was, near the top: a toy Atlesian Skyray, and very faithful in modelling to the real thing, she had to say. Some toy manufacturers didn't bother to get the details right, but whoever had made this had clearly gone the extra mile. She reached in, grabbed it, and pulled it out of the bag before she put said bag on the floor by her feet.

Adrian gasped when she sat the airship, reaching for it with both his small hands.

"You want this?" Pyrrha asked him. "You like this?"

She held the toy by its tail, positioned in such a way that the airship looked as though it was flying horizontally towards Adrian. As it approached, and as he reached for it, Pyrrha pulled the airship upwards as though the pilot had suddenly yanked back on the controls, sending the airship rising up into the sky. She found herself making a little whooshing noise as she lifted the toy Skyray up into the air.

"And here comes Rainbow Dash, flying to the rescue," Pyrrha said as she turned the airship in a swooping dive, turning it in an arc through the air of the living room. "Will she be in time to save the day?"

The airship dived towards Adrian once again, but he didn't reach for it this time; he simply watched the toy coming towards him with big, wide eyes.

Pyrrha mimicked the airship flying around him a couple of times, before slowing down for a moment, feeling the weight of the toy in her hands. "Jaune," she said.

"Yeah?" Jaune asked. He had a soft smile on his face as he watched her.

"I think there's metal in this toy," Pyrrha said.

"So?" asked Jaune. He blinked. "You mean?"

Now it was Pyrrha's turn to smile, and her hand was surrounded with a faint black outline as she touched the model Skyray with her semblance.

And she let it go.

The Skyray did not fall. Adrian's beloved toy did not clatter to the floor. No, with only a little black around it which did nothing to obscure Adrian from seeing the airship, it hovered in place as though it were a real airship suspended by gravity dust awaiting orders.

Adrian gasped. He seemed to understand that an airship ought not to be hovering like this. His mouth opened, hanging wide.

Pyrrha could not resist a chuckle. "Watch closely," she said, and she set the airship flying.

Pyrrha's control over her semblance was absolute. It was a scalpel in her hands. It might not be too effective a bludgeon, since she had never trained to use it on a grand scale, but when it came to small things like weapons, or toys, there was very little that she could not do. And so it was easy for her to make the living room her sky, the sky in which the Skyray ruled absolute, as it flew around just below the ceiling, dived down to the floor below, almost but not quite hitting the deck, pulling up at the last moment, as it rolled and looped, as it did things that would surely have impressed Rainbow Dash if they had been done by a real airship.

And, being done by a toy, they impressed Adrian. He gasped. He clapped his hands together. He cried out in wordless, gleeful delight. Jaune stood up, holding tightly onto Adrian, and carried him into the centre of the room, lifting him up at times to get him closer to the toy, even as Pyrrha 'piloted' the Skyray closer to him, waggling its wings in a sort of salute when it passed near to his face.

After a little while, the appeal of the flying Skyray seemed to wear off a little — at least for now — but by then, Adrian seemed to find the very fact of being lifted up into the air by Jaune fun, and he laughed as Jaune lifted him up, raising his arms — but bending his knees, lest he bang Adrian's head against the ceiling — over and over again as though Adrian himself were the airship rising into the sky.

"Whoa!" Jaune cried. "There you go!"

Adrian laughed, then his laughter turned into a leonine yawn as his mouth gaped open wide, and his brown eyes fluttered for a moment.

"Tired, huh?" Jaune asked as he lowered Adrian down. "You feel like taking a nap?"

Adrian's eyes opened, and he pouted as though to suggest that the very idea was preposterous.

"Uh, okay," Jaune said as he and Pyrrha retreated back to the settee.

"How about a story?" Pyrrha suggested. She hesitated for a moment. "Jaune… could I … could I hold him, for a little while, please?"

"Uh, sure," Jaune said. "Just, be careful, okay?"

"Of course," Pyrrha murmured as she reached out and put her hands around Adrian's waist. He did not protest as she lifted him up off Jaune's lap and down onto her own; rather, he giggled a little. "Hello again," Pyrrha said, her voice a gentle whisper.

Adrian beamed up at her. Some of Pyrrha's long red hair had fallen over her shoulder, and Adrian grabbed at it, giggling to himself as he tugged at it.

Pyrrha chuckled and started to rock him gently back and forth in her arms.

"Once upon a time," she said, still speaking in that hushed whisper of a voice, "in a ramshackle old cottage deep in the forest, beside a mighty river, there lived a cold, old man. He lived alone, dwelling in shadow and darkness, with only a single small window out onto the world. And yet, one snowy day, as he looked out of the window, the old man saw something strange and new, something he had not seen before.

"For there, outside the window, beneath a great old tangled tree, there sat a fair young maiden, dressed in robes of blue with sable trim, and her hair was as white as snow. The old man thought he must be dreaming, for he had dwelt in this house for many centuries, and not once in all that time had he received any visitors. Yet, there she sat, with her eyes closed, as though she were asleep.

"The old man opened his window, feeling a blast of cold air on his face, and demanded to know who she was and what she was doing. The maiden replied, 'My name is Winter, I have been on a journey, and I am waiting here for my sisters.' The old man still did not understand why she was sitting there beneath his tree alone, but the maiden replied that she was not alone, for she had her thoughts with her, and there were times when they were good company enough. And with that, the maiden closed her eyes once more and resumed her meditation.

"The old man grumpily thought to himself that the girl was a fool, and yet, foolish as he thought she was, the sight of her sitting out there in the snow and cold stirred something in him, and he told her to come inside and warm herself by the fire before she caught her death. The maiden accepted and came into his dark home. The old man could not remember the last time he had eaten, or felt the warmth of a fire, but nevertheless, for the sake of his guest, he set a fire in the hearth and cooked a bowl of soup for her — and soon realised that he, too, was very hungry. As they ate, he asked her what she had been doing sitting out there in the cold beneath the tree, and the maiden replied that she had been meditating, and offered to show him how. Many months passed, and the old man found that his mind became clearer than it had been in years, and as his friendship with Winter thawed the old man's heart, so too the frozen forest began to thaw around them."

"One day, the old man woke up to find that Winter was no longer in his little cottage. It seemed that she had departed without bidding him farewell. Disappointed, the old man went to the window and saw that outside, the grass was green, the leaves had returned to the great old tree, and the maiden once more stood outside, now joined by another. She was clad in green, with leaves and flowers in her hair, and upon her arm, there hung a great and bountiful basket of fruits and flowers. 'And who are you?' the old man asked. 'My name is Spring,' the maiden replied. 'I am on a journey, and I am waiting here for my sisters.' She walked to his window, and from her basket, she offered him fruits and flowers.

"'Is this to repay my hospitality to your sister?' asked the old man. 'No, sir,' replied Spring, 'this is from nought but kindness, and because I believe you would appreciate them.' The old man opened the window and received the gifts that Spring provided with a gratitude that surprised him. It had been many years since he had had anything so beautiful as these lovely flowers in his house, and as he looked at them, he began to wonder if it had not been too long since he had had such things. He turned away, placing the flowers where they might brighten up his dark home, but when he returned to the window, he found to his astonishment that Spring was tending to his garden, and that what had been a bare and barren patch of earth was now a place from which life would surely blossom.

"'You have done too much,' the old man said, to which Spring replied that she had hardly begun. The old man bade her come inside when she was weary, and Spring, like Winter, joined him in his cottage, sharing his hearth. But there was no need to share in what little food the old man could provide, for each day, Spring laboured at the old man's garden, and not only beautiful flowers but bountiful fruits and vegetables sprung out of the ground to liven up their mealtimes.

"Months passed, until one day, the old man awoke to find Winter and Spring both gone, but laughter coming from outside. And the old man walked to his window and saw that a third maiden now stood there, tall, with sunlight in her golden hair. The old man begged her to introduce herself, and she said, 'My name is Summer, I am on a journey, and I am waiting here for my sister.' And then she laughed again, and the old man begged her to tell him what was so funny.

"The maiden replied that the source of her amusement was him, for he stood in that dark house, watching the world out of his window as though he were a captive prisoner, when the door by which he might leave the darkness and step out into the world was right beside him. The old man felt a fool; why did he need Spring to give him flowers through the window when he could go out and find them for himself? And so, after a moment, the old man opened the door and stepped out into the sunlight. And with the sunlight came new energy, so that when Summer begged him to come and dance with her, the old man found the strength to accept. And as he danced and frolicked, the old man found that he scarcely felt like himself.

"He felt better.

"All summer long, the old man spent every waking moment out of doors, sleeping under the stars with Winter, Spring, and Summer. One day, as the leaves turned golden and the hot days drew to a close, Summer proposed a great feast. Winter set the table, Spring supplied the crops, Summer prepared the meal, and the old man? Well, the old man was the happiest that he had been in many years.

"But, as he sat down at the head of the table, the old man noticed another guest had arrived: a fourth maiden stood beneath his tree, delicate, with sunset in her hair of red. The old man begged her to join them and to introduce herself. 'My name is Fall,' she said, 'I have been on a journey, and I am here to meet my sisters.' The other three maidens, Winter, Spring, and Summer, welcomed her joyfully, for now they were all together once again. But then Fall asked, 'But who are you, sir, who have welcomed my sisters while they waited for me?'

"The old man said, 'I am just an old hermit, and my story is not very interesting. I have little to my name and no one to love.' To the old man's surprise, Fall smiled at him. 'But sir,' she said, gesturing to her sisters and to the world around him, 'don't you see? You have so much. I beg of you, be thankful for all that you have and all that you have been given.'

"The old man vowed that he would, for his eyes had been opened by the kindness of the four sisters. And yet, he begged to know why they had chosen to bestow such kindness upon him. And Fall replied, 'I beg your pardon, sir, but we did not do these things for you because you are special. We do what we can for everyone, because we are able.'

"'Then let me repay you as I can, because I am able,' the old man said, and he bestowed upon the four sisters incredible power, begging them to continue to help others all over the world. They graciously accepted and promised to share their gifts with the people of Remnant until the very end of days. Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall, the four seasons."

Adrian's eyes were closed, and he let out a snort of murmur, but as he curled up in Pyrrha's lap, still clutching at some of her long red hair, it was clear that he had fallen asleep.

Pyrrha smiled. "Sleep tight, little one."

Jaune put his arms around her, shifting closer to her. "You told that from memory?" he asked.

"It's one of my favourites," Pyrrha said. "From time to time, I can appreciate a gentler sort of story, one that doesn't involve proud warriors trying to kill one another."

Jaune smiled, although the smile swiftly faded from his face. "Incredible power," he murmured. "Do you think—?"

"Jaune," Pyrrha said, gently but firmly. "Would you mind if we didn't talk about such things?" She hesitated. "This place is … so peaceful. It feels … it almost feels wrong to bring the darkness here, even by speaking of it."

Jaune nodded. "You're right," he said. His smile returned. "And besides, it feels like we should be allowed a little time to not have to think about that stuff, doesn't it?"

"I couldn't agree more," Pyrrha replied, looking away from him and down upon the slumbering Adrian. With one hand, Pyrrha stroked his forehead, brushing his hair a little out of the way. "Jaune," she said, "do you ever think about the future?"

"'The future'?" Jaune repeated.

"Our future," Pyrrha explained. "Our future … together."

She felt as though she were stepping onto thin ice. Sunset, she felt sure, would have told her that she was being absurd, too insecure, letting her fears get the best of her, but nevertheless, Pyrrha was afraid. What if Jaune told her that he didn't think about their future together because he didn't see one, that she was an entertainment for him, not a future? Yes, Sunset would undoubtedly have ridiculed such fears — well, perhaps not actively ridiculed, because Sunset never laughed at her — but Pyrrha, though she could recognise how unlikely it all was, though she knew that Jaune had brought her here to meet his family, his family … she could not banish worry from her heart.

Perhaps it was that fear, that fear of silence, that desire to fill up the space in the conversation, that drove Pyrrha on, saying, "Do you ever think about … about where we might live or what we might do or … or whether we'll ever have children of our own, like Adrian?"

"Two," Jaune said, after a moment's pause.

Pyrrha looked at him. "'Two'?" she repeated.

Jaune shrugged, or sort of shrugged, as best he could while he had his arms around her. "When I've thought about it," he said, "I think two children would be a good number to have. More … when you have a lot of children, there's always someone who gets left out. Either the oldest kids have to grow up faster and become almost like other parents to the younger ones, or else the younger ones don't get to grow up at all, because the older siblings don't stop babying them. Or both, it feels like, in my family: Rouge and me and Violet. But at the same, with only one kid … what if they end up all alone? At least with a brother or sister, they'll never be really alone, you know?"

Pyrrha didn't know, but she did know what he meant about an only child ending up alone, especially an only child born into the line of Nikos. "So you have thought about it?" she asked, a degree of amusement creeping stealthily into her voice.

Jaune smiled sheepishly. "A little bit, yeah. You?"

Pyrrha looked down at Adrian, slumbering peacefully in her embrace. "All of Mistral would rejoice if I were to have an heir," she murmured. "Someone to continue the line of Nikos after me."

"But what do you want?" Jaune asked.

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. "I would … I would love to be a mother," she confessed, or at least it felt like confession. She looked into Jaune's eyes. "I would love to be a better mother than my own, to let my child or my children, our children, decide for themselves what path they wished to follow, what destiny they wished to pursue. To give them nothing but love and affection, to let them know that they could always return to my arms whenever they wished to."

Jaune chuckled. "I think that you'll be a great mom," he told her.

Pyrrha smiled at that, but nevertheless, she said, "But there are times … there are times when I also think … I wonder if it's selfish, to bring a child into the world, knowing that you could, that you might leave them at any moment."

Jaune frowned. "I thought we weren't going to talk about the dark stuff?"

"I'm sorry," Pyrrha said. "But … I'm not sure that it can be wholly avoided."

"I know what you mean," Jaune admitted. "My Dad quit after Rouge was born for just that reason. He … he didn't want her to have to grow up without a father. But, on the other hand … I don't know, saying that you shouldn't have kids if you're going to continue to do the work? I mean, Ruby misses her mom, but isn't it better that she exists and that she has some memories of her mother, than that Summer Rose had decided to never have children because she might die? Isn't it better that you exist than that your dad decided to never marry or have children?"

Pyrrha chuckled. "How can I argue with the fact that, by my own argument, I wouldn't be here?"

"Would you keep doing the work then?" Jaune asked.

"I … I don't see how I could walk away from it, at least, not for a while," Pyrrha replied. "Knowing what we do, this thing that we're not going to talk about, for all that I'm not the most necessary to our efforts—"

"Don't say that," Jaune said.

"I don't have Sunset's magic or Ruby's eyes."

"No, but neither of them have your sheer unbridled skill, and that counts for something, right?" Jaune asked.

"Perhaps," Pyrrha murmured. "Either way, the point is that I don't think that I could turn my back on all of this, at least not for a while, not until the next group of the … of the chosen were ready to take on the burden from Professor Ozpin, just as we did."

"And when they do?"

Pyrrha hesitated. "Who can say? It might depend on what I've done, or what I think I've done. I don't know. I … I don't know." I don't know what I want out of the next few years, let alone further on than that. "Perhaps I'll retire, like my mother did, like she has, devote myself to running the Nikos estates and raising our children. I mean … I'm sorry, I didn't mean to assume that we'd live in Mistral—"

"It makes sense," Jaune admitted. "All of your land, that big house—"

"We don't have to live in the big house."

"Maybe not, but it seems like a pretty nice place to grow up," Jaune pointed out. "And … well, did you ever lack for anything when you were a kid?"

"Nothing that money could buy," Pyrrha replied.

Jaune grinned. "Is it wrong for me to say that I want that for our children?" he asked. "Not … that almost sounds like I'm interested in you for the money."

"I know that isn't true," Pyrrha assured him, reflecting that he might have a similar reaction if she confessed her fears to him.

"But if we have the chance to give our children every luxury and comfort then … it seems kind of silly to throw that away just so we can live in Vale instead," Jaune pointed out. "Or anywhere else other than Mistral. Not to mention, I'm pretty sure that Mistral would start a war if you didn't come home at some point."

Pyrrha laughed, and holding Adrian as she was, she wasn't even able to raise a hand to stifle her laughter. "I think you might be exaggerating," she said, "if only by a little." She took pause for a moment, until the laughter died. "And you? Would you think about giving up being a huntsman, like your father did, or would you keep going?"

Jaune did not answer for a moment, nor for the next. "My Dad told me, when we talked last night," he said, "he told me, or at least he made it seem, as if he didn't know what he was going to do until he was holding Rouge in his arms, looking down on her. So I guess … I suppose my answer is I don't know what I'll do. I'll make up my mind when I hold our baby in my arms."

"If," Pyrrha murmured.

"Huh?"

"If you hold our baby in your arms," Pyrrha said softly. "If I—"

"When," Jaune insisted. "You're not going to die, Pyrrha, not to Cinder, not at school, not for a long time to come. And neither am I. We're going to live; I guarantee it."

Pyrrha stared at him. "How can you be so sure?" she asked him softly.

Jaune drew her in and kissed her on the forehead, just below her glittering circlet. "Because I'm going to be right by your side, always," he said, "and I know that no matter how bad things get, together, we can make it through, I know it. I … I might not be able to be a hero, but I'll be your hero, and you'll be mine; that's my promise. Because … because I love you, and there's no way in Remnant I'm going to let you go."

XxXxX​

Author's Note: Art by Artsbysmarty

 

[ScipioSmith]

Father and Mother and Violet Too​

There was a stag's head on the wall of Mister Arc's study, with a pair of magnificent antlers spreading out from it, almost touching the ceiling beneath which it was mounted.

It was not the only decoration in the wood-panelled study, but it was the one to which Pyrrha found her eyes were drawn inexorably.

Mister Arc must have noticed — it cannot have been very hard to do so — because he said, "I got that a couple of summers ago out in the woods. Seems like I was lucky not to come across a grimm instead, huh?"

"Yes," Pyrrha replied. "Or you could say that the McKinleys were simply unfortunate."

"Or that we were lucky to have you here," Mister Arc pointed out.

Pyrrha smiled slightly. "You're too kind, sir—"

"Gold," Mister Arc insisted. "I already told you, there's no need for all of that formality here. Now, can I call you Pyrrha, or would you prefer Miss Nikos?"

"Pyrrha will be fine, thank you," Pyrrha murmured.

Gold smiled. "Pyrrha it is then." There was a desk in the study, but he did not sit behind; rather, he took an armchair that, if it was not exactly gold, was nevertheless a bright yellow colour. He gestured to another chair, more spindly, wooden, and with a cushion in the same yellow colour. "Please, take a seat."

Pyrrha sat down. She was glad that Mister Arc had asked to speak with her like this. She had, truth to tell, hoped for something like this, when Jaune's father would ask to speak to her and judge whether she was worthy of his son and give her the chance to prove that, yes, she was fit for Jaune and to be a part of his life.

On the other hand, of course, the fact that she now had this chance was no guarantee that she wouldn't fail the test in some way. There was always the chance that she would not be sufficiently impressive, that by the end of their conversation, Mister Arc would judge her unworthy, and she would be ejected from the house just as Sky and the others had hoped to do yesterday.

It was enough to make Pyrrha's stomach flutter a little with nervousness.

She had spoken true to Sunset when she had told her that she didn't want Jaune to have to choose between his family and her.

But she didn't think that she could give up on him for the sake of his family either, selfish though it might be.

No. No, she couldn't think like that. She couldn't get caught in a spiral of fear and doubt. She had to keep looking forwards and get through his meeting with Jaune's father with his … with his blessing.

Thought about like that, it was as if she was asking for his permission to marry his son. She was not — apart from anything else, Pyrrha would prefer for Jaune to ask — but in a way … who knew when they might be here again? This might be Pyrrha's only chance to obtain any sort of blessing at all, from Jaune's father or his mother.

So she had better get this right.

She sat down, her hands clasped together on her lap.

Mister Arc smiled benevolently at her. "I hope you don't mind me prying you away from Jaune for a little while, but since you and my son are an item, I'd like to get to know you a little better."

"That's perfectly understandable," Pyrrha said softly. "I hope you don't mind me saying that I wouldn't mind getting to know Jaune's father a little better as well."

I wouldn't mind asking why you didn't unlock his aura, or even tell him what it was, Pyrrha thought, although she almost certainly would not ask. She hoped to gain Mister Arc's approval, after all, and picking a fight with him over the way he had raised his son was probably not the best way to do that.

Mister Arc nodded. "That's natural, and that's fine," he said. "I know that this place must seem very quiet, very … traditional, in certain ways, but I don't want you to get the wrong idea. This isn't that scene where I call you in so I can try and scare you off with what a big guy I am, show off my gun collection, all that crap. Apart from anything else, I doubt that would work on a Beacon huntress, much less one as accomplished as you, if Terra is to be believed. But my point is that if this can be a two-way street, then so much the better. We can get to know one another without my daughters getting in the way." He chuckled. "I love my children, but … there are a lot of them, and they can be very loud."

Pyrrha didn't reply. She didn't want to overstep her bounds as a guest here; in all likelihood, Mister Arc would never tolerate an outsider saying things about his family that he said himself.

And so, after a moment's pause, it was left to Mister Arc to continue the conversation.

"Do you always dress so…" Mister Arc — Gold — waved one hand in front of him. "So well?"

Pyrrha considered her answer for a moment. "I don't dress like this for battle," she said, "either in the arena or the field, but I suppose you could say that even my combat attire is … a little flamboyant."

Gold nodded, although he offered no clue as to whether he had seen her combat attire — a little research would have shown it to him, but he might not have felt the need to do any — and in any case, he brought the subject back to where it had been, saying, "And outside of battle? Do you always dress like this?"

Pyrrha wondered if he disapproved, although she could not think why; she wondered — worried, was perhaps a better description — whether he found it too much. "I … I am not what you would call a casual dresser; is that a problem?"

"Not as much of a problem as you tailoring your answers to impress me," Gold declared. "I told you that I want to get to know you, not the person that you think I want to hear. Honestly, you dress like that?"

"Honestly, I'm … not sure why you are interested in how I dress," Pyrrha murmured, hoping that her tone remained respectful, even as her response might be read as less than such.

"That's a fair point," Gold muttered. "I suppose … I suppose that when you told us that you were really Mistral's princess—"

"I'm not a princess," Pyrrha corrected him. "That is … a name. A nickname bestowed on me by crowds and flatterers and promoters. It isn't a title. There is no royal family in Mistral anymore; my great-grandfather laid down his crown at the end of the Great War, and none have picked it up since."

"And yet you dress like that," Gold pointed out.

"How should I dress?" asked Pyrrha. "I like … pretty things. Elegant things. Gowns and dresses and jewellery too, upon occasion. I wore this gown, and I dressed as I did last night, and I will dress up yet more for dinner tonight, in part, I must confess, to impress you and your family, to show that I respected you enough to dress up instead of assuming that I could turn up at your door in any old thing, but even if that had not been in my mind, I would still have worn something more like this than … than anything else because … because this is simply more to my taste."

"But not to Jaune's," Gold said. "I know that it might seem strange, me sitting here asking about what you like to wear, but … I see you, dressed like that, and then I see Jaune wearing that same old hoodie, and … well, you admit, that there's a bit of a difference there."

"I suppose," Pyrrha said softly.

"We're pretty well settled here, I admit," Gold said. "Has Sky told you that our family founded this town?"

"Yes," Pyrrha said. "And even if she hadn't, the statue would have suggested your importance."

Gold shrugged. "We're lucky," he said. "We're no Schnees — and I suspect we're no Nikoses either — but this family has never really wanted for anything, at least not materially. But all the same … despite what your mother or your teammate might be hoping to dig up, we're nothing special. We're just the Arcs, just a pretty ordinary family from a pretty ordinary little village out in the boonies. And you … well, you know what you are."

Pyrrha's brow furrowed a little beneath her circlet. "Mister— Gold … I feel as though you're trying to say something. I would prefer you be more plain, for I fail to take your meaning."

Gold was silent for a moment. "That was a nice story you told, about how you and Jaune got together," he said.

"It really happened just like that," Pyrrha said.

"If you thought I was sceptical because of the word 'story,' then I apologise," Gold said. "That wasn't what I meant. That isn't what I'm worried about." He paused. "You know, I had a lot of worries about Jaune, but the idea that he would end up alone was never one of them. He's a good-looking kid — better-looking than I was when I was his age; all my children get their good looks from their mother, even if they do have my colouring in the hair and eyes — and while he … while he was never exactly what you'd call much of a man, I never doubted his good intentions."

"No," Pyrrha murmured, and tried to keep the disapproval out of her voice.

Gold looked at her, and for a moment, Pyrrha thought that he had picked up on her disapproval, before he continued, "I always knew that he would find someone. He wasn't so hopeless that no girl would go for him. I just wasn't expecting a girl like you to go for him, and now … I suppose what worries me is … you know he's very taken with you."

Pyrrha couldn't keep the smile off her face. "That's always good to hear," she said. "I'm rather fond of Jaune as well."

"What worries me," Gold said, for far from the first time, so much so that Pyrrha wondered what his worries were that he had such trouble expressing them, "is that at some point, you'll take a look at Jaune in his hoodie and his jeans and realise that he isn't really up to your standards, that he doesn't belong by your side, in your world."

"You have nothing to worry about in that regard, I promise you," Pyrrha declared.

"No?" Gold asked.

"No," Pyrrha said firmly.

She leaned forward and debated whether it might be best to stand up for this. It might seem melodramatic, especially given Gold Arc's already-expressed distaste for Mistralian courtesy.

Well, let him think her melodramatic, let him think her the very worst kind of Mistralian; the fact of the matter was that she was a Mistralian, and any other way of getting her point across would seem mealy-mouthed by comparison.

"Mister Arc," she said, getting to her feet, standing before him with her back straight, "if I was ever inclined to want a Mistralian lord with old money and an old name and a lord's dress sense, then I could have had one; my mother would have arranged the match eagerly enough, I assure you. But that is not what I desire. Yes, I enjoy things that are beautiful and feminine, but I do not demand that Jaune share my tastes."

She smiled. "Not to mention that I find your son as fair to look on in his hoodie and jeans as he ever does in a suit or anything else for that matter. I … I know that you do not much care for Mistralian manners, but nevertheless, I know no other way to say this that is not melodramatic, but I am his, as he is mine; my heart … he has pierced my heart. He has pierced my heart and claimed it for himself as you claimed the head of that stag up on your wall. I will not cast him away. I could not even if I wished, certainly not over such a frivolous thing. Not … not over anything … except, perhaps…"

Gold leaned forward in his armchair. "Perhaps what?"

"Duty," Pyrrha murmured. "I … I must admit that if it came to a choice between my duty as a huntress, my obligations to the world, and to Jaune … I'm not yet sure what I would do."

Gold was silent for a moment. "Well, if that's all, then Jaune is a very lucky guy with very little to worry about."

Pyrrha blinked. "You don't—"

"What you've just described is the curse of being a huntsman, or a huntress," Gold said. "What you've just described is why I quit when Rouge was born. Love and Duty … I didn't want to be forced to choose between them. Or rather, maybe it would be better to say that I chose Love and told Duty to go find someone else. Not everyone makes that choice, but that choice … I'm not going to judge you for not being sure that you'd choose Jaune. I wouldn't even judge you if you didn't choose Jaune, not for that choice, the hardest choice. For anything else, I might judge you," he added, "but not for that."

"I … I am glad to hear it," Pyrrha murmured. "He … Jaune, I … he really does mean the world to me. I very much want you to believe that, to understand that. If there is anything that I can do to prove it to you—"

"'Prove it'?" Gold repeated. "How would I ask you to go about doing that?"

Pyrrha's mouth opened, but no words emerged. "I … our team leader suggested that you might set me some sort of labour or challenge."

Gold's eyebrows rose. "Is your team leader a Mistralian too by any chance?"

"No," Pyrrha said. "Sunset is…" A magical unicorn from a land called Equestria. "From outside the kingdoms, by way of Atlas."

"Really? I would have thought that she would have more sense," Gold muttered. "No, I'm not going to set you any challenges; no, you don't have to pass a test; no, you don't have to prove anything to me. Jaune says he loves you, you say that you love him, and for what it's worth, I believe the both of you. I'm not going to say I have a hundred percent faith that it'll work out between you two, but I believe that you're both sincere in what you say."

Once more, he took a moment's pause. "But still … you come from very different worlds. You say that you wouldn't cast Jaune out because he doesn't fit into yours—"

"And I would not," Pyrrha insisted.

"But what about everyone else in your world?" Gold asked. "Will everyone else be as accommodating as you? If Jaune goes to Mistral with you, is he going to end up with only you in the whole city who treats him right in a sea of people who look at him like he doesn't belong there?"

Pyrrha did not respond immediately. "I … I cannot say it is impossible," she admitted. She took a deep breath. "Jaune and I talked a little about our future, while you were all out."

"As you do," Gold said, sounding amused. "You two really are serious, aren't you?"

"When it comes to my heart, I'm not sure I know how to be anything but serious," Pyrrha admitted. "I am … I lack…"

"I'm sure," Gold murmured, sparing her the need to finish. "So, what kind of future did you talk about?"

"One … in Mistral," Pyrrha admitted. "But … I cannot say that there are none in Mistral who might take against Jaune for his background, but nor will I say that the whole of Mistralian society would turn against him without better cause than that." After all, snobbish though it was at times, steeped in its traditions, obsessed with its past glories and its ancient honours, nevertheless, Mistralian society had shown at times the ability to be accepting: Pyrrha's own mother had embraced Sunset to the bosom of the family; and the Rutulians had welcomed Camilla into their home and House, and no one dared suggest that she did not belong there. She hoped that Jaune might be welcomed in the same way. "But, if Jaune was unhappy, then … then I would leave. I would not force him to remain anywhere that made him miserable. I care for him too much for that."

Gold gave no sign of what he thought of Pyrrha's response. He watched her without speaking. When he did speak, it was to change the subject: "So tell me about Beacon."

"What do you want to know?"

"What do you want to tell me?" Gold asked.

Pyrrha thought for a moment. You did say you wanted me to be honest with you. "You went to Beacon yourself, didn't you?" she asked.

Gold nodded. "I did."

"May I ask how Initiation was conducted in your day?"

Gold winced. "The catapult."

"Jaune nearly died!" Pyrrha declared. "Jaune would have died if…"

She cut herself off, swallowing her words, lest a declaration that Jaune would have died if not for her should be taken for entitlement or some idea that she had some claim on Jaune in consequence.

It didn't appear to work. Gold said, "I take it you had something to do with the fact that he didn't?"

"Well…" Pyrrha murmured.

"I don't know why you think that saving my son's life is something you should feel embarrassed about," Gold told her.

"I just…" Pyrrha trailed off for a moment. "He seemed so very out of his depth, I couldn't just stand by without doing something to help him. I didn't know that he hadn't activated his aura at the time, only that he seemed inexperienced, nervous … as though he didn't have a plan. I didn't realise until later that that wasn't all he didn't have." She took a deep breath. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why didn't Jaune have his aura activated?" Pyrrha demanded. "How could you send him off to Beacon not only with no training but without even the most basic thing that he'd need to survive?"

"Let's get one thing straight: I didn't send Jaune anywhere," Gold reminded her. "He snuck out to Beacon in the middle of the night without my knowledge."

"Then why did he have to do that?" Pyrrha replied. "And even if you didn't necessarily want him to go to Beacon, why not tell him a little more about what it entailed? Would it have been so difficult for you to activate his aura and give him a little rudimentary training in how to use his sword and shield?"

"I didn't think he could do it."

"Why not? Because he wasn't enough of a man for you, for this place?" Pyrrha asked. "Because he wasn't burly and tall like your son-in-law? Because he couldn't instantly tame a wild horse when he was younger?"

Gold closed his eyes. "He told you about the horse."

"Yes," Pyrrha said softly. "He told me how disappointed you were."

"Not because he couldn't ride the horse!" Gold cried. "I knew he wasn't going to be able to ride a wild mustang that no one else had managed to tame; I was disappointed that he was stupid enough to think that he could. I was disappointed that he made an ass of himself in front the whole village doing something so stupid. That … that's why I didn't activate his aura, that's why I didn't train him no matter how much he begged, that's why I didn't want to hear about him going to Beacon … I thought it was just that horse in the marketplace all over again, Jaune talking about doing something he obviously couldn't do. You know he was lucky not to crack his head open when that stallion threw him. He was lucky not to be killed at Beacon; you told me that yourself."

"Because he wasn't prepared," Pyrrha replied. "Because you left him unprepared."

Gold hesitated. "I didn't think that he'd go through with it."

"You didn't give him any reason to think that he shouldn't go through with it," Pyrrha pointed out. "For which, in spite of the fact that Jaune almost died during Initiation, I should probably thank you for, for if Jaune had turned back…"

"You and he—"

"No," Pyrrha said. "I mean, yes, of course, but more importantly than that, our team, and Beacon itself, would have lost … forgive me, but when I think about what Jaune could be right now if you had taken the trouble to train and prepare him for Beacon … it is rather frustrating. The number of people who work as hard as Jaune does, who push themselves as hard as he does … I have a rival who has dedicated herself to defeating me in combat, and I don't think she pushes herself as hard, works herself as hard, as Jaune does. He is so dedicated to his training, and while some of that may be that he knows how much ground he has to cover to catch up with the rest of us, I'm sure that most of it is simply in his nature. He has saved the lives of both of our teammates, Sunset Shimmer and Ruby Rose; they would both be dead if it wasn't for Jaune. I … I have needed him in battle, even though I acted as though I did not. You … you have given the world quite a gift in Jaune, Mister Arc. I'm only sorry that you couldn't see it."

"But I am very glad that you could," Gold said. "Jaune said that you believe in him, and now … now I see what he meant. I think that my son was very lucky to meet you, Pyrrha Nikos. Thank you, for everything."

Pyrrha got up, recognising a dismissal when she heard it. "I was very lucky to meet him too," she said, "but I thank you for the compliment." She bowed her head and turned to go, her red sash trailing after her just a little as she exited the study. The eyes of the stag mounted on the wall seemed to follow her as she departed.

She shut the door behind her, although she had no idea whether Gold Arc would remain there long or not, and was about to go and find Jaune when she heard the voice of his mother behind her.

"Ah, there you are, dear, just finished with Gold?"

Pyrrha turned to face her. "Yes, ma'am."

"Oh, you needn't call me ma'am, not when you and Jaune are so close," she said, although that was exactly what she had asked Pyrrha to do last night, and she and Jaune had not gotten noticeably closer since. "You can call me Honeysuckle."

"Thank you," Pyrrha said, "that's very kind."

"Not at all, not at all," Honeysuckle replied. "I hope Gold didn't make you sweat too much in there; it would be a shame to ruin that dress."

Pyrrha chuckled. "No, I … I'm afraid I might have made him sweat a little more than I did."

Honeysuckle's eyebrows rose. "Oh?"

Pyrrha wondered if this might be a mistake to be so honest with Jaune's mother, but on the other hand, Gold would undoubtedly tell his wife about it if he had a problem with Pyrrha's attitude, so she hoped that Honeysuckle, like her husband, would appreciate the honesty and pressed on. "I gave him a little of a hard time, for not preparing Jaune for Beacon."

"Gold was just trying to keep Jaune safe," she said. "We all were."

"I … it isn't my place to argue your intentions for Jaune, I know," Pyrrha said. "Jaune can do that for himself, if he wishes, but … Mrs.— Honeysuckle, do you know how Beacon Academy's Initiation goes? Has Gold ever told you?"

Honeysuckle shook her head. "I don't even know what that is."

"It's the first test of new students at Beacon," Pyrrha explained. "The means by which students are assigned partners and teams. And it begins by … catapulting new students off a cliff into the forest below."

Honeysuckle paled. "Goodness me!" she cried. "That sounds—"

"It's perfectly alright," Pyrrha said quickly, "because we have something called aura that protects us from harm — up to certain limits, in any case — and because we have trained and so have strategies for how to land more or less safely. Except … except for Jaune."

Honeysuckle covered his mouth with one hand. "Then how … how?"

Pyrrha clasped her hands together. "I … I stopped his fall," she murmured.

"You?" Honeysuckle murmured. "You … you saved my baby?"

"That isn't really the point of—" Pyrrha began, but was interrupted when Honeysuckle Arc enfolded her into an embrace.

"Bless you," she said. "Bless you, my dear, now why didn't you say that earlier? If you'd told me sooner that you'd saved Jaune's life, I wouldn't have been so … I would have been more supportive."

Should I really have to tell you that I saved Jaune's life? Pyrrha wondered. Especially when that wasn't what I was getting at in the first place? But there seemed little point in arguing; it was all in the past now, and after giving Gold Arc an earful over it, then perhaps it would simply be churlish and rude to blast his mother the same way, especially since there was nothing that she could have done to prepare Jaune for Beacon — except, perhaps, to use her influence on her husband on Jaune's behalf.

That seemed very petty and shallow grounds for criticism.

"Would you come with me into the kitchen, Pyrrha?" Honeysuckle asked, stepping back and out of the hug. "I needed to start getting a few things ready."

"Of course," Pyrrha murmured as Honeysuckle stepped around her and led the way, leaving Pyrrha to follow a couple of steps behind. Her high heels tapped upon the wooden floor, and her skirt and underskirt rustled around her as she walked, and thus, she followed Jaune's mother into the homely, well-appointed kitchen, where Honeysuckle bent down and began to root around in the spacious cupboards for pots and pans.

"Do you cook, Pyrrha?" she asked, as she placed a large pot down on the side with a metallic rattle.

"No," Pyrrha admitted. "I … growing up we had servants to take care of that sort of thing."

"'Servants'?" Honeysuckle repeated. "That's not a word you hear very often any more."

"Not in Vale, perhaps," Pyrrha replied. "Although in certain circles in Mistral, it is still reasonably common."

"Amongst…" Honeysuckle paused for a moment, "noble families, is that the right word?"

"Yes," Pyrrha said. "Many — though not all — of the great families still employ some household staff to cook, to clean, to do laundry—"

"To do all the things that I do?" Honeysuckle said. "That sounds almost ideal."

Pyrrha wasn't sure how to respond to that; she couldn't gauge how serious Honeysuckle was being in her answer, and thus had some difficulty formulating a response. Was she supposed to laugh? To agree? Was there a point being made that Pyrrha would be unable to be a proper wife to Jaune?

Admittedly, if they did move out of Mistral as she had promised Gold they would if Jaune were unhappy there, then she would have a steep learning curve, but … Jaune had had a steep learning curve at Beacon; it didn't mean that either of them was incapable of learning something new.

But she didn't want to say that in case she was taking it all too seriously.

Honeysuckle went on, "Aoko says that in a few years, we'll all have robots to do all of these jobs for us. Or at least, she says that people in Vale will; I'm not sure they'll catch on here in Alba Longa."

"I think Aoko might be being a little optimistic," Pyrrha murmured. "I know that there are some androids designed for personal service, but I'm not sure they're common, even in Atlas — or at least, they weren't when I was there last. I'm sure they'll get there eventually, but perhaps not for a few years yet."

"You've been to Atlas?" Honeysuckle asked. "You've travelled, then?"

"Not extensively," Pyrrha replied softly. "I spent some time at Argus, at the combat school there, Sanctum Academy. I've been to various places in Mistral for tournaments and exhibition matches. I went to Atlas for a special match in aid of charity. And of course, I've been to Vale and Beacon."

"Not extensively," Honeysuckle said, chuckling. "I must say, dear, that certainly sounds pretty extensive to me. Although we have been to Anima a couple of times, for vacations."

"Whereabouts?" Pyrrha asked. "Mistral?"

"No, we didn't want to go anywhere near the big cities," Honeysuckle said. "We camped in the woods near a place called Shion, do you know it?"

"No, I'm afraid not," Pyrrha said, thinking to herself that it must be a reasonably small place, for she had travelled to tournaments and matches in most well-sized settlements throughout Mistral.

"We got a lot of strange looks when we came back, everyone staring at us as though we'd brought back a disease; it took a while for it all to settle down," Honeysuckle said. "I think that's where Saphron got the idea that she wanted to move out there to Argus." She paused for a moment. "But we had a good time, even if Jaune did have to come into our tent because the girls wouldn't leave him alone. Jaune…"

She sighed. There was another pause, longer this time, before she said, "A son is a son until he takes a wife, but a daughter is a daughter for the rest of her life. Do you know that saying?"

"No," Pyrrha admitted. "I've never heard it before."

Honeysuckle turned away from her, leaning upon the sink. "Last night," she said, "I … did Jaune tell you what passed between us last night?

"No," Pyrrha said. "But I think I might be able to guess."

"You've been very polite about it, if you've guessed right," Honeysuckle said.

"I…" Pyrrha hesitated. "I would prefer to win your good opinion than to win an argument."

Honeysuckle looked at her. "Why?" she asked. "You're the princess of Mistral—"

"I'm not really—"

"You're famous, you have a house full of servants back home in Mistral … and you have Jaune's heart. What does it matter to you what an old woman in some out-of-the-way backwater thinks?"

"It matters a great deal to me what Jaune's mother thinks," Pyrrha replied.

Honeysuckle smiled sadly, "A son is a son until he takes a wife," she repeated.

"Jaune and I aren't married," Pyrrha reminded her. Yet.

Honeysuckle's smile became a little less melancholy, as she said, "When I stood in this kitchen with Jaune and tried to tell him that he … that he wasn't to go back to that school and that he ought to forget all about you, an outsider, someone who didn't belong here … he said no. In all his life, Jaune has never said no to me like that before. He told me … he told me that if I didn't drop it, he'd leave. That if I made him choose, he would choose you."

"I'm sure he meant that he would choose Beac—"

"Don't be modest, dear; it doesn't suit a beautiful girl like you," Honeysuckle told her. "You've got him hooked. From now on, what you think and what you want will always matter more to him than what I think or what I want. You've got his heart … so please don't break it. It's such a good heart; it always has been."

"I know," Pyrrha murmured. "And I have every intention of holding onto it, firmly but gently." As I hope he will hold mine in return.

Honeysuckle smiled sweetly at her. "I'm sorry that we got off on the wrong foot last night. When Jaune showed up with a pretty girl on his arm, I ought to have been overjoyed, considering how often I worried about what would become of him when his father and I passed away. Instead—"

"It hardly matters now," Pyrrha said softly. "It's passed and behind us both." She bowed. "My name is Pyrrha Nikos, and I am delighted to meet you, ma'am."

She did not see Jaune's mother approach, but she felt her hands, raising Pyrrha's head up, and she felt the kisses that Honeysuckle planted on her cheeks.

"Honeysuckle Arc, my dear, you can call me Honeysuckle," Honeysuckle said. "Pyrrha, that's a very pretty name, what does it mean?"

"It means 'Flame coloured' in Mistralian," Pyrrha said, reaching up to play with her hair with one hand. Apparently, it had been so vibrant even when she was a newborn babe.

Honeysuckle chuckled, "It suits you very well, obviously. Now, tell me everything about how the two of you have gotten on; I want to hear all the details."

XxXxX​

The door to Violet's room was painted, well, violet. It was also closed.

Jaune stood in front of it, and knocked on it. "Violet?" he called. "Are you in there?"

There was no answer for a moment, then Violet said, "Is Pyrrha with you?"

"N-no, she isn't," Jaune said. "Listen, can I come in, I want to talk to you."

There was another pause before Violet said, "Okay."

"Great," Jaune said, and he opened the door. Violet's room was not too big — as the youngest children in the family, she and he had been stuck with the smallest rooms by simple virtue of the fact that the big rooms were already taken by their older sisters — with a childish wallpaper of blue with yellow stars that probably should have been replaced by now. A grey stuffed bunny rabbit, a little the worse for age and wear, sat on the bed next to the pillow, and on the bed — crushing the purple quilt a little beneath her — sat Violet with a book in her lap.

She didn't look up at him.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey, Jaune," Violet muttered.

Jaune frowned a little as she sat down on the bed beside her. "What are you reading?"

"It's about a happy, kind princess who lives in a castle," Violet said, still not looking up at him. "Her father dotes on her, and she's engaged to marry a handsome prince who loves her, and everyone adores her."

"Sounds nice," Jaune said. "Does she live happily ever after?"

Violet shook her head. "On her wedding day, she hides in an old oak chest in a hidden room in the castle, only the chest locks, and she can't get out again. Her body is found fifty years later, a skeleton in a wedding dress."

Jaune winced. "That's … unfortunate. Why would she want to hide in a chest on her wedding day? Why at all but on her wedding day?"

"I think it was supposed to be a prank, to frighten her husband and father and the guests a little bit."

"She wasn't that kind then," Jaune said.

"She liked to tease," Violet said. "She liked to tease too much." She shut the book. "I suppose not every story can have a happy ending."

"I guess not," Jaune murmured. "But that one … I don't know, even if someone did like to tease, it all just seems a little unbelievable to me. Like, how did she know about the secret room but no one else did? I think that they should have found her in the nick of time and gotten her out of the chest."

"Then what would be the point in that?" Violet asked. "If she doesn't die, then the story doesn't mean anything; it's just…"

"A little scary for her father and her husband, just like the prank was meant to be," Jaune replied. "A little scary for her too, stuck in that chest. A little scary, a little seems like it might get dark, but then it all turns out okay in the end, like all good stories should."

"Hmph," Violet snorted. "But not all of them do."

Jaune was silent for a moment. "Have you been to see Miranda since she came back home?"

"No," Violet said. "Why would I?"

"Because she's your friend, or she used to be," Jaune said. "And because I think that maybe she could use a friend right now."

"Like you said, she used to be," Violet said. "Then she left."

"And that's what this is all about, isn't it?" Jaune asked.

"What?" Violet asked. "I don't know—"

"Yes," Jaune said, "you do. The way you act around Pyrrha, the way you talk to her, even after Sky and Rouge and even Mom changed, you've just kept on … picking at her. But if your problem is that I left, then take it out on me, because I'm your problem, not Pyrrha; Pyrrha has nothing to do with it."

"Doesn't she?" Violet demanded, and now she looked at him, whipping her head round to stare at him with her big blue eyes.

"Pyrrha's not the reason I left," Jaune said.

"But she's the reason why you won't come back, isn't she?" Violet replied.

Jaune was silent for a moment. "She's … Pyrrha is a pretty big reason for that," he admitted. "But she's not the only reason."

"But she is a big reason," Violet insisted. "Because you … because you don't want to be parted from her. Because you … because you love her."

Jaune nodded. "That's right. That's all right. I wouldn't be parted from Pyrrha, not for anything, not for lien or glory or anything else that you could offer me. Because I love her."

Violet was silent for a moment. "Do you remember … do you remember when you and me and Miranda used to hang out?" she asked. "Do you remember when we hid under one of the tables at River's wedding and just read?"

Jaune smiled. "Yeah, I remember. I remember Mom was so mad when she found out." He chuckled. "I suppose we were lucky we only hid under a tablecloth and not in a chest, huh?"

Violet snorted. "If we had hid in a chest and nobody could find us … would they have even bothered to look?"

"Things weren't that bad," Jaune said.

"No," Violet replied. "They weren't that bad because you were there, and Miranda … and then you both left. You both went off to Vale, and you left me here."

"I … Violet, I didn't … I had to go."

"Why?"

"Because if I hadn't gone, then I would have missed my chance."

"So what?"

"So what?" Jaune replied. "Violet, this … this meant everything to me. You were … you and Miranda were the only ones I even dared hint about what I was going to do. Because you were the ones that I trusted, because you were the ones that I thought would understand. You knew that I wanted to leave, and you knew that I wanted to … okay, it sounds stupid now that I wanted to be a big hero like in the comic books, but even so, it was what I wanted. Should I have stayed and been unhappy for—"

"For me?" Violet asked. "No, of course not; I'm not worth it."

"Violet, I didn't mean—"

"I thought that you would always be there for me," Violet declared. "But then you left, and even now that you've come back, you'll be going away again, and … it's her. You're with Pyrrha now, and … and she's the one you'll always be there for."

She turned away again, but the fact that she wiped at her eye with one hand gave Jaune a pretty clear idea about her expression.

Gingerly, tentatively, he reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. "I … Violet, I'm sorry if you thought that I abandoned you—"

"You did abandon me!" Violet snapped.

"Okay, I guess I kind of did," Jaune admitted. "But that's still not Pyrrha's fault, so even if you hate me for what I did, could you please try and be a little nicer to her? For…" He realised that asking 'for my sake' might not carry much weight with Violet anymore. "Please?"

Violet didn't say anything for a little while. "How is it that you're able to stand up to everyone now? Sky and Rouge and Mom? Sky and Rouge were going to make you stay, they were going to tell you how it was, and you were going to sit down just like you always did. Only … you didn't."

"I guess … I guess I grew up a little, at Beacon."

"Is it everything you dreamed it would be?"

"It isn't really much like I dreamed it would be at all," Jaune admitted. "The only part where I can even kind of say that my dreams came true is … well, is Pyrrha."

"Perfect Pyrrha," Violet muttered.

"Please stop," Jaune begged. "If you'd just give her a chance, try to get to know her … she's beautiful, talented, kind, brave, smart. I couldn't find anyone else like her in a hundred years, even if I wanted to." He paused, and a sigh escaped him, leading him to sag forwards just a little. "Everything else … it turned out to be a lot different than how I thought it would be. But at the same time … it's better. What I thought it would be was just a dream, but I've found something real, something that matters. What I'm doing matters." Again, he paused for a moment. "Violet, what is it that you want to do? What do you want? If you could do anything at all, go anywhere, be anyone, then what would it be?"

"What I want?" Violet repeated. "What I want is … what I'd do is…"

"Violet?"

"I can't tell you," Violet said. "What would be the point?"

"The point is that you can tell me," Jaune insisted. "The point is that you can't just say that it won't happen so why bother trying. Violet … if there's something that you want, you have to fight for it, even if it means leaving home, even if it means taking risks, because I can tell you, from experience, that if you take that risk … the rewards are so, so worth it. So come on, spit it out."

Violet hesitated for a moment, and glanced furtively at him, before she murmured, "I … I'd like to go to Mistral," she said.

"It is beautiful," Jaune said. "But what would you do there?"

"Study, at the Imperial College."

"Study what?" Jaune asked.

"Myths and Legends, History, Literature, Old Mistralian, anything they'd let me," Violet said.

"Then do it," Jaune said. "Work for it, get there, get a place, get to class, just do it! Don't sit around here wishing that you could, because before too long, that will turn into sitting around wishing that you had."

He put one arm around his younger sister.

"You're right," he conceded, "we'll never be as close as we used to be. Not because of Pyrrha, but because I'm far away now. But if you get yourself to Mistral, if you go down that road, if you follow your own dreams, the way I followed mine, then you'll find people who are closer to you than we ever were to one another, people who choose to be close to you, to be like a second family to you."

"Like the other girls in that picture you sent to Mom?" Violet asked.

"Exactly," Jaune agreed. "They're out there somewhere, waiting for you; you just have to be willing to take that first step."

Violet leaned against him. "But what if they don't let me go?" she asked.

"Then run away in the middle of the night, like I did," Jaune said. "Don't take that seriously, by the way, Sky and Kendal would kill me."

Violet laughed. "I love you, Jaune."

Jaune squeezed her a little tighter. "I love you too, little sister."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Part of the Family​

Jaune's room was much as he had left it. In fact, it was exactly as he had left it, on the night that he had crept out of the house and stolen away to Beacon.

Perhaps everyone had left it the way it was in case he came back.

Assuming as they had done that he would come back at some point.

Either way, that was behind them now; the fact remained that they had left his room just as it was: the same superhero posters up on the walls, the same books on the shelves, the same cartoon quilt — yes, he should have grown out of that sometime ago, but he'd never seen the need to change it; it did its job, after all — on the bed. Everything was just as it had been. Nothing had changed, except him.

He was not the same Jaune Arc that he had been when he had slipped away to chase his dreams. He was older, of course; stronger, without doubt, thanks to Pyrrha's patient tutelage; wiser? Maybe he was wiser, although he could call himself more worldly with a little more accuracy and less chance of being wrong. It would have been hard not to be more worldly now than he had been when he had left, given that he had known so little of the world then. He knew more now. He knew more of Vale, more of Mistral, more of Atlas, more of Remnant itself and all that made it up. He had seen things, done things, and those things that he had seen and done had left him changed.

He was … was he a man? He had been a boy when he had left, was he a man now? Jaune … Jaune was not sure. His father had told him that Beacon had made him a man, but Jaune himself … he didn't know. He couldn't say for certain. He still wasn't much like Rueben, wasn't much like what many here in Alba Longa would call a man, so maybe he remained a boy.

Or maybe it was them who were wrong, and to be a man was something different than they imagined.

Perhaps it could be, at least.

Such thoughts were a distraction. A distraction that Jaune could ill afford right now, because it was the night of his Dad's birthday, and he, Jaune, could not find his suit.

He had packed it. He knew that he had packed it. He was absolutely cast iron certain that he had packed it — but, just to be sure, he had called Sunset and asked her to root through his stuff back at Beacon; she had done so and found no more trace of a suit there than he had found here.

Jaune had turned out his case, dumped everything that he had brought with him onto the bed; it had been very untidily packed in; he'd thought that he'd done a better job than that; either nerves had made him pack badly, or else they had made him forget just how badly he had packed. In any case, he had dumped everything out of his case and onto the cartoon quilt of the bed, and he had found no suit. In fact, he hadn't been able to find anything connected with a suit: no jacket, no trousers, no shirt, no bow tie; even his cufflinks were missing. Surely, he couldn't have forgotten everything; he wasn't that stupid.

And yet, judging by what he had or had not packed, he really was that stupid. The only thing he had were shoes and only because he'd worn them on the train down here.

Where was it? Where was his suit? And if he'd forgotten to pack it, then why couldn't Sunset find it either back at Beacon? Had a grimm eaten it while he wasn't looking?

Jaune took a deep breath. He needed to stay calm. This was just like training, stay calm, don't get emotional, don't think about the fact that the party was about to start and he had nothing to wear and what was he going to do?

How had this happened?

There was a knock on his bedroom door. "Jaune?" Kendal called. "Are you decent in there?"

"Uh, yeah," Jaune replied. "Sort of."

"'Sort of'?" Kendal asked.

"You can come in; it's fine," Jaune said. Even though it really isn't.

The door opened, revealing not only Kendal, but River too. Kendal was still wearing her green tank top and shorts, but River was already dressed up in a shimmering one shoulder, one piece mermaid gown of shimmering sky blue. A bracelet of blue gemstones glimmered around her right wrist.

"Are you okay, Jaune?" River asked.

"Not really," Jaune admitted. "I can't find my suit anywhere. I've looked everywhere, but I can't find it. I can't even find a single bit of it."

Kendal and River looked at one another.

"Yeah," River murmured. "About that…"

"What?" Jaune demanded. "What is it?"

"I … I was making a final check for Rouge," Kendal said. "And I found … well … this is what I found." She produced a black jacket from behind her, his black jacket, stained with mud.

Or at least Jaune very much hoped that it was mud.

"My suit!" Jaune cried. "How did … where was it?"

Kendal winced. "In the compost heap."

"'The compost heap'?" Jaune repeated incredulously. "How did it get there?"

"We didn't put it there," Kendal said defensively.

"I know, I know, I just…" Jauned trailed off.

Someone had put it there, and as much as the door was open, and it could, theoretically, have been anyone, it was more likely to be someone from inside the house than someone coming in from town. But yeah, Kendal wouldn't have done this, and neither would River.

It didn't really matter who'd done it, at this point. Sure, it was incredibly petty of whoever it was — and Jaune had a pretty good idea of who it was — to do something like this tonight of all nights, very mature, but there were more important things to worry about than that.

Things like what he was going to do now.

"Did you find the rest?" Jaune asked.

Kendal nodded. "We've put everything else in the wash."

"Thanks, but there's no way it'll wash and dry in time," Jaune said. He thought quickly; he didn't have long to come up with an alternative. He still had his blazer. He could always just throw it over his hoodie or a plain t-shirt; a lot of people probably wouldn't notice that he was improperly dressed. That would be the easy thing to do. He could do that, and probably, no one would say anything.

Pyrrha certainly wouldn't say anything, even though he would be wearing a t-shirt and a school blazer, and she would be … well, he hadn't seen exactly what Pyrrha would be wearing yet, but he bet that it would look absolutely beautiful. She would be gorgeous, she would be radiant, she would be exquisite, and he would be … no, he couldn't do that. Even if she wouldn't mind, even if she wouldn't say anything, he ought to try and make an effort to dress up to her level, at least for tonight.

"Excuse me," he said, walking towards the doorway and his sisters.

River and Kendal made way for him, moving aside to let him out into the upstairs corridor. Jaune headed down the corridor, towards his parents' room which sat at the very end of the house. River and Kendal followed after him, the tapping of River's high heels alternating with the duller thumping sounds of Kendal's boots.

Jaune realised as he approached the door that however this turned out, he was probably going to look mildly ridiculous, but at least he would look as though he'd made an effort.

He reached his parents' bedroom door and knocked on it.

"Who is it?" Dad called out from inside.

"It's Jaune," Jaune said. "Dad, I need to ask a favour. Oh, River and Kendal are out here too."

There was a moment's pause before the door opened. His Dad stood in the doorway, wearing a vest and his suit trousers, the braces already over his shoulders. His right cheek, but not the left, was covered in shaving cream.

"Do you all need favours?" he asked.

"No, Dad, it's just me," Jaune said. "I need to borrow a suit."

"You came all this way without a suit?" his father asked incredulously.

"No, Dad, I had a suit with me; I just can't wear it because … the point is that I need to borrow a suit; do you have anything that I can wear tonight? I … I want to look like I at least tried to look good."

His Dad smiled knowingly. "I get it," he said. "I mean, I still don't get why you can't wear the suit that you apparently brought with you, but whatever, let's go with it. Now … you are a little trimmer around the waist than I am, I've got to admit, but when I was about your age … you can wear my wedding tux; that ought to fit you. It'll be close enough anyway."

"Your wedding tux?" River repeated. "You kept the suit you wore at your wedding?"

"Yep," Dad declared. "I kept it in case, one day, I would have a son who would be without a suit for a special occasion."

"Really?" Jaune asked.

"No, not really; I kept it because I wore it on the day I married your mother," Dad said. "And also in case I had a son who could wear it on his wedding day."

Jaune was silent for a moment. "Dad, that … I mean, it'll kind of ruin the moment if I wear it tonight."

"Well, you can get your own suit for your wedding, then see if you can manage to pass it on to your son … or else pressure your prospective son-in-law into wearing it by claiming it's an old family tradition. Now, do you want the suit or not?"

"Yes!" Jaune said quickly. "Yes, I'll take it."

"Then come on in," Dad said. "I'll get it out of the closet for you."

Jaune followed his father into the bedroom, where Dad opened the big walk-in closet built into, well, the wall. He reached inside and pulled out a gold suit. A completely gold suit.

"What do you think?" Dad asked proudly.

Jaune blinked. "It … it's gold," he said.

"I know!"

"You married Mom in a gold suit?"

"Well, it is my name," Dad reminded him. "And it is the colour on our family crest."

That was true, Jaune supposed, but still … a gold suit. There was a chance that he'd be less embarrassed in jeans and a t-shirt.

But if he did wear jeans and a t-shirt, then he'd look wrong with Pyrrha hanging off his arm in whatever she'd be wearing tonight; he might even look like he didn't care enough to make any kind of effort for his girlfriend or his father.

Wearing this, at worst, he'd look just a little silly.

And, honestly, yes, it was a bit of a shock when you first saw it, but the more you looked at it … it didn't look half bad.

"So?" Dad asked. "Do you want it?"

Jaune reached out to take the coat hanger from his father's unresisting hand. "Yes," he said, "yes, I want it." He smiled. "Thanks Dad, this has … this has just saved my night."

Dad chuckled, and patted him on the shoulder. "You're a lucky guy, Jaune," he said.

"I know," Jaune said. "Trust me, I know."

"Now get out of here," Dad said. "I still have to finish getting ready myself."

Jaune left, pausing only to acquire a shirt — a dress shirt which was also gold, albeit a paler gold than the suit — before leaving Dad to shave and do whatever else he needed to do before he finished getting ready. With River and Kendal in tow, he returned to his own room.

"So … you're going to wear that?" River asked. "You could always have just asked Chester to borrow a suit."

"This … this might not be something that I'd choose to wear," Jaune admitted. "But come on, this is the suit Dad wore to get married in; that's kind of neat, don't you think?"

"It's kind of old, don't you think?" River replied.

"It's going to work out, River," Jaune insisted.

At least, he hoped it would.

XxXxX​

Pyrrha hummed gently to herself as she fastened her gorget around her neck.

After a rough start, she thought, her visit with Jaune's family had gone rather well. Violet had apologised to her last night; now, all of Jaune's sisters seemed to approve of her, with the possible exception of Aoko, whose opinion on these matters was hard to gauge. And Jaune's mother and father both seemed … accepting at the very least.

It was what she'd wanted.

They liked her. They might not have wanted to, they might still have some worries which, honestly, were not unjustified, but they liked her. They would accept her as part of their family, if and when — hopefully when — Jaune decided to make her so.

Although, that reminded her that if and when that happened — again, hopefully when — they would need to talk about last names.

Still, that could wait. All of that sort of thing could wait. She was getting very far ahead of herself. Jaune hadn't even proposed yet, and probably wouldn't until after they graduated in any event.

There would be plenty of time for all of that later. For now, she was content that Jaune's family did not hate the idea of the two of them together.

For now, that was quite enough.

For now, Mister Arc's birthday party was about to begin, and she was almost ready.

Pyrrha had gotten a shower, come back to Kendal's room, and got out her gown, the best gown that she had packed, quite possibly the best gown she owned. She had got it out, looked at it, and in the process of looking at it, she had wondered if it might not be a bit too much.

Quite possibly, it was a bit much — it was, Pyrrha had to admit, rather a lot, but she liked it, she thought that it was very nice, and at least everyone would be dressing up tonight. They might not be dressing up quite as much as Pyrrha herself, but they would be dressing up, and Pyrrha could hardly be faulted for doing the same.

Besides, she liked it, and she hoped that Jaune would like it too.

And so, she had put on the dress; it might have been considered a frivolous use of Polarity to fasten her gown up the back where Pyrrha found it hard to reach, but in the absence of Iris or Hestia to assist her, it was very convenient to have such a semblance.

Pyrrha's gown was gold, or at least it looked so from the outside, although it had to be admitted that the innermost layer of the skirt was pale yellow. Almost all of that skirt, however, was concealed from view beneath the peplum of gold which covered all but a triangular slit at the front, descending from the waist and widening out in front of Pyrrha. Around the hem of the peplum was the same pale yellow as the underskirt, a solid line with some undulating arches above. A sash of gold ran around the skirt, somewhere between the level of her ankles and knees, in waves, rising up and down, up and down, and at each point where the wave crested were embroidered onto the dress a multitude of beautiful white camellias — three large camellias on either side directly before her, at the edges of the peplum, and then only two at each point as the sash curved around the sides of the dress — and amongst the flowers, verdant green leaves and great gleaming pearls, each larger than Pyrrha's thumb. A second layer of overskirt, also gold and trimmed at the edges with pale yellow, fell down behind her at the back, almost like the train of a wedding gown, save that it did not actively trail behind her.

The bodice was shoulderless, and in shape, it very much resembled Pyrrha's cuirass, even as the golden colour recalled the gilded armour in the centre of the same; here, however, the gold was on either side of her, and in the centre, there were more camellias, a riot of white camellias — and leaves and gleaming pearls accompanying them — that seemed to be bursting out of her from inside the bodice, pushing the two sides of the dress apart as they blossomed and bloomed as she had bloomed, with Jaune, at Beacon.

The bodice hugged her figure, clinching at her waist, but above the waist was bound a golden chain, almost like a belt that was trying to keep her dress together and stop the flowers from bursting out from within it, and in the centre of the chain was set a great emerald, set in elaborate curling gold and by five lesser emeralds arranged around it, almost as the five lesser stars were arrayed around the greater in Twilight Sparkle's symbol.

Her dress had no sleeves, but Pyrrha's arms were not completely bare; cream-coloured gloves enclosed her hands and kept her arms concealed from view up to just below her elbows, while on her right arm, she wore her honour band. She had not brought any extra jewellery with her to Alba Longa that was not directly part of one of her dresses, and so, around her neck she wore her usual gorget, while upon her brow sat her glittering circlet, and from the circlet hung the chains with their teal drops upon them. Her long red hair fell down behind her in a ponytail reaching past her waist.

"You look nice," Kendal observed from behind her. "You make me look a little underdressed, but … you look nice."

Pyrrha turned to face her. Kendal herself wore a dress of that same shade of green that gave her her name, but it was a rather plain dress and mostly devoid of decoration; the skirt, though it flared outwards in a bell shape, extended only to her knees, leaving her legs bare to the strap-on green heels she wore on her feet. An illusion neckline half covered the space between the bodice and her neck. A yellow sash, wrapped around her waist and tied in a little bow upon her left side, was all the adornment that the dress possessed, and Kendal wore little enough other adornment besides: nothing but a slender band of gold sitting around her right wrist.

"I … I'm sorry," Pyrrha said. "It wasn't my intent to—"

Kendal raised a hand to forestall her. "I was kidding; don't worry about it. The truth is, I've never really cared for dressing up, but for those who do? Good luck to them. As I say, you look nice. You probably look a lot more than nice to someone who appreciates that sort of thing better."

Pyrrha smiled. "Thank you."

For a moment, Kendal looked as though she wanted to say something else. Or perhaps she wanted to laugh; it was hard to tell. Her mouth opened, but then it closed again as Kendal turned away. She covered her mouth with one hand, then balled that hand into a fist as though she wanted to bite into it, then opened it again and lowered her hand to her side, all without saying anything.

"Is everything alright?" Pyrrha asked, taking half a step closer to Jaune's sister, her gown trailing a little on the floor behind her.

"No," Kendal said quickly, "no, everything's fine." She paused for a moment. "Is there anything that Jaune could do that would embarrass you?"

"Embarrass me?" Pyrrha repeated. "I … that I can imagine that he might do? No, not that I can think of."

"There are things that would embarrass you that you can't imagine that Jaune would do?" Kendal asked.

"Obviously, if he cheated on me, that would be … I would be humiliated, as well as heartbroken," Pyrrha murmured. "But Jaune would never do that; he is too kind. Even if … even if I lost his heart, he would still tell me so first. Why do you ask, if you don't mind telling me?"

"Oh, no reason at all," Kendal said, although the smile playing upon her face suggested that there was a reason, just one that she'd rather not divulge to Pyrrha. And, if that was the case, then Pyrrha was prepared to respect that. Doubtless, she would find out for herself what had brought this on, but she doubted that she would, in fact, find it embarrassing.

As she had said to Kendal, the only things that Jaune could do that would embarrass her were so out of his nature that she could scarcely conceive of them.

The window to Kendal's room was open, and the cool evening air carried with it the sounds of a crowd gathering outside — Pyrrha had found out that this birthday party was not simply a family affair, but one to which a good chunk of Alba Longa was invited; that was one of the reasons the party was being held outside — although on the other side of the house, so that Pyrrha could see nothing by looking out of the window.

It was, in a sense, the most familiar thing to Pyrrha that she had encountered since coming here to Alba Longa; this village was not Mistral in any sense, but the way that the gathering was not just for the family, nor for the guest of honour, but for the community as a whole, that was something she was very familiar with. She was reminded of her own birthday parties, of the balls in the ballroom, of the meals in the great dining hall, of the lords and councillors who had attended. She had found them all to be very dull affairs, that her mother had enjoyed far more than she did. Pyrrha herself … she had often felt more like part of the decoration than the guest of honour: something to be seen, something to be appreciated upon an aesthetic level, not someone to be connected with, certainly not the person whom all of this was supposedly in honour of.

She wondered if Gold Arc felt the same way about his parties.

Probably not. Possibly not, at any case. Even in Mistral, there were those who felt differently; Pyrrha had attended Juturna Rutulus' birthday parties — not because she knew that younger Rutulus particularly well, but because it was expected both that Juturna should invite her and that she should accept — and she always seemed to be enjoying herself very much.

In any case, one could read too much into comparisons. Whatever was waiting outside was probably not going to be just like a Mistral party.

"Anyway," Kendal said, "are you ready?"

"Yes," Pyrrha said, "yes, I think I am."

Kendal nodded, and smiled, and crossed quickly to the bedroom door, opening it to reveal Terra just passing in front of the doorway as it opened. She was wearing silver, a shimmering silver gown with an asymmetrical skirt that left her legs visible before her while trailing after her, and a halter neck that left her arms bare, save for the bracelets of amber and white pearls, the luminescent gems alternating with the yellow stones in stacked bracelets climbing up her arms.

Terra stopped as the door opened to regard them both. "Hello," she said, before letting out an appreciative whistle. "You look incredible."

Pyrrha let out a chuckle. "Is that really something a married woman should be saying?"

Terra laughed.

"You look very lovely yourself," Pyrrha said. "Those bracelets are beautiful."

"Thanks," Terra said. "I made them myself."

"Really?" Pyrrha asked. "You make jewellery?"

"I'm not a jeweller or anything," Terra said, "but my aunt left me one of those old-fashioned pearl necklaces, you know the type; they're six foot long or longer and designed to be wrapped three times around your neck, and they still reach down past your waist? Anyway, I had that, and I wasn't sure I'd ever want to wear it, but I also had this box of amber that Honeysuckle gave us as a wedding present, so I thought, why not combine the two of them? So I had the amber made into beads and then strung them and the pearls into bracelets. I think they turned out pretty well."

"They certainly did," Pyrrha agreed. "And such a great way of using the two gifts."

"Maybe you should become a jeweller," Kendal suggested.

"That might be less stressful," Terra replied. "But I'm not sure that we could afford our brownstone in Argus on what I'd make selling artisan jewellery."

"What is it that you do, if you don't mind me asking?" asked Pyrrha.

"I'm a technician on the CCT relay in the city," Terra answered.

"You're an Atlesian soldier?"

"No, I'm a civilian contractor working for the military," Terra said. She smiled and held out her hand. "Now, shall we go dazzle our Arcs together?"

Kendal snorted and stepped out a little in front of the other two, while Pyrrha stepped forward. She reached out and placed her gloved hand into Terra's open palm, feeling the other woman's fingers close around it.

Thus, hand in hand, they followed Kendal down the corridor to the top of the stairs. And then, although the volume of Pyrrha's gown meant that Terra had to walk on the step in front of her, rather than side by side, they descended slowly, each step revealing a little more of themselves to those below.

Jaune and Saphron — along with Kendal, who had descended the stairs first — were waiting for them in the dining room. Saphron was wearing an orange dress with a scallop neckline and a daffodil print pattern on it, while Jaune…

Jaune was wearing a gold suit. The jacket and the trousers alike were both equally gold, and they must have been made out of a similar material to Terra's dress, because it shimmered and almost seemed to sparkle in the dining room lights. His shoes were black, and his bowtie and gloves were white, but his waistcoat and dress shirt were both a pale gold, much the same shade as Pyrrha's inner skirt.

He was very bright, very shiny, and not at all what Pyrrha had expected.

He also looked rather wonderful. Pyrrha had sometimes wondered why men's suits in Atlas and Vale had to be so conservative — an especial irony in the case of Vale, which had fought the greatest war in the history of mankind for the right to be colourful. In Mistral, men felt no shame in making parrots and peacocks of themselves, with togas and other garments in an array of colourful hues, and those that did not do so tended to be making rather obscure points by it, like wearing black to ostentatiously mourn the passing of traditional virtues.

She just hoped that Jaune hadn't done this for her sake; she didn't want him to feel as though he had to conform to her culture.

But other than that niggling fear, she liked it. She liked it very much indeed.

She liked it so much that she found herself staring, even as Terra moved to join Saphron, who greeted her with a loving kiss.

Fortunately, Jaune was staring too, so if it looked odd or awkward, then at least they were odd or awkward together.

Jaune's mouth opened, but it took a little time after that for him to speak. In fact, he wasn't quite able to speak, a string of sounds emerged from her mouth but did not rise to the level of actual words.

Nevertheless, Pyrrha felt a flush of colour rise to her cheeks. "Thank you," she murmured as she walked towards him, reaching out with one gloved hand to take his hand in hers. "You look very wonderful yourself."

"Really?" Jaune yelped in surprise, and to Pyrrha's surprise, Kendal said the exact same thing at the exact same time.

Pyrrha looked at her. "Is this what you thought might embarrass me?"

Kendal shrugged. "Well … he is very—"

"Dazzling," Pyrrha finished for her, while standing up on her toes to give Jaune a kiss on the cheek, to show that she meant no insult by it. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Jaune looked down at her, his face very red and his eyes very bright, courtesy of the beaming smile upon his face. He looked down upon her and, with his free hand, reached out and cupped her face.

Then he bent down to her and gave her far more than just a kiss on the cheek.

Pyrrha took a deep breath when the kiss was done, her bosom heaving a little. She caught the amused looks on the face of Saphron and Terra — they were not being at all subtle about it — and smiled sheepishly.

"Shall we head out and join the party?" Saphron suggested.

"Yeah," Jaune agreed, and Saphron and Terra led the way, heading out of the dining room towards the back of the house, and thence outwards into the back garden. Kendal followed, grinning at Jaune over her shoulder as she went, and then Jaune and Pyrrha went last.

Jaune offered Pyrrha the crook of his arm, which she accepted with a smile, slipping her hand into it and placing it gently upon his elbow.

"You know, you don't have to pretend to like the suit if you don't want to," he murmured.

"I'm not pretending," Pyrrha insisted. "I love it. Why would you think I wouldn't?"

"Well, I mean … it's not a normal colour," Jaune pointed out.

"That depends on where in Remnant you are," Pyrrha reminded him. "And anyway, even if it wasn't normal, what of that? Gold suits you."

"It does?"

"It's the colour of your aura, the colour of your soul itself," Pyrrha said. "How could it not suit you?"

Jaune chuckled and held up his other hand for a moment as he activated his semblance. His hand was wreathed in a gold which, while undoubtedly lighter, was not a million miles away from the suit jacket he was wearing.

His semblance died down, and Jaune lowered his hand again. "You look beautiful," he said.

"I'm glad," Pyrrha murmured. She paused for a moment. "But Jaune … if you didn't think that suit was proper to wear, then why did you wear it? And where did you get it? I didn't know you had anything like that."

Jaune laughed nervously, although Pyrrha couldn't yet work out why. "Well, you see … this suit … it's actually my Dad's suit. As a matter of fact, it's the suit he wore on his wedding day, if you can believe it."

Pyrrha stared at him, her green eyes widening. The suit that your father wore on his wedding day?

Jaune's father's wedding suit. The suit that Gold Arc had married in. And now, Jaune was wearing it, to escort her.

Oh, Jaune.

Pyrrha felt her heart begin to beat just a little faster. She wrapped both hands around Jaune's elbow and leaned against him as a blissfully contented smile settled on her face.

"Uh, Pyrrha?" Jaune asked, surprised. "Pyrrha, are you…?" He trailed off and did not protest.

Judging by the way that he bent his head and kissed her on top of the head, Pyrrha would say he rather liked it.

They emerged out of the house and into the garden, which was illuminated by strings of white lights stretched between the trees, so that it was almost as if the stars themselves had descended from the skies to provide greater illumination for the Arc family.

There were a great many people already in attendance, men in suits and women in dresses, gathered either around the long wooden buffet tables that groaned under the weight of all the food on offer, or at the bar, where a young man in a plaid shirt was serving champagne.

Rouge was wearing a fiery red dress that trailed behind her on the grass as she greeted and directed people, sometimes shaking hands and sometimes gesturing this way or that. River sat upon a makeshift stage in a sky blue dress, playing the violin; Chester sat beside her in a white suit with no tie, playing the flute; the music was soft, gentle and inviting, not music to dance to, but music to set the ambience while everyone arrived. Aoko was wearing a suit of plum purple and getting the knees dirty as she knelt upon the ground, tinkering with a pair of giant speakers. Rueben wore all black and stalked around the edges of the party with a champagne glass in his hand.

The only members of the Arc family that Pyrrha couldn't see were Sky and, of course, Gold and Honeysuckle Arc, who would, of course, be the last to arrive.

"Your family has done well," Pyrrha remarked.

"My sisters do know how to throw a party," Jaune replied. "Would you like something to drink?"

Pyrrha thought for a moment. "Alright," she said, "I suppose…" She caught sight of someone else amidst the crowd, someone standing alone in that same crowd, someone whom the crowd moved around without really seeming to notice. "Miranda?"

Miranda Wells was also wearing black, a dress of black velvet with a slight glossiness to it that seemed to reflect back a little of the light that fell on it. The dress embraced her, hugging her curves and then falling straight down to the ground around her. It had an illusive neckline, and her sleeves were likewise made up of that same almost sheer fabric, as if she were wearing tights upon her arms. Her hair was loose and fell down around and behind her head.

She had been glancing downwards at the ground, but at the sound of Pyrrha's voice, she looked up. "Jaune?" she said. "Pyrrha?" She moved towards them, squeezing in between people, murmuring her apologies as she got in the way, coming closer until she stood in front of them. "Hey," she said. "I heard you were back in town."

"We…" Jaune trailed off. "I should have come and visited you. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Miranda said.

"Is it?" Jaune asked sceptically.

"Yes," Miranda repeated. "I … you're here for your Dad's birthday, right? You don't need to … you didn't need to come."

"Okay," Jaune murmured, not sounding entirely convinced. "I'm a little surprised to see you here."

"I can't shut myself up in my room forever, can I?" Miranda replied. "And besides, if I didn't show for just a little bit, that would be just rude, wouldn't it? So, Jaune, how's it been, coming back home? Have they tried to get you to stay yet?"

"On the very first night I was back," Jaune said.

Miranda smiled, though it was a sad smile that did not quite reach her eyes. "Did it work? Is Pyrrha going back to Beacon by herself?"

"Pfft, no!" Jaune cried. "Like I would ever agree to that."

"Don't give me that 'pfft,' Jaune Arc; we both know full well that you never used to stand up to your mother or your sisters," Miranda declared. She glanced at Pyrrha. "Did he stand up to them?"

Pyrrha nodded. "With immense dignity."

"Dignity, now that's not a word I thought I'd hear associated with Jaune Arc," Miranda replied. "I guess Beacon really did bring out a whole new side of you. And you brought Pyrrha back home with you." To Pyrrha, she asked, "How are you finding our little town? How are you finding the little minds of our little town?"

"It was a difficult start, I admit," Pyrrha murmured. "But it turned around very quickly."

Miranda fell silent for a moment. "I heard you killed that grimm," she said, "the one that trashed the McKinley place."

"Yes," Pyrrha said softly. "We did."

Miranda closed her eyes. "I thought that … I thought that here would be one place they wouldn't come," she muttered. She opened her eyes again. "Do you think there'll be more?"

"No," Jaune said at once.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because they don't come around here," Jaune said. "It's … it's just a fluke, that's all. It's nothing to worry about. It happened, we took care of it, doesn't mean it will happen again."

"I hope you're right," Miranda whispered. "I really hope you're right."

Jaune's brow furrowed. "Are you planning to stay here forever? Or might you leave again, when you feel a little … better?"

"I don't know," Miranda admitted. "My mom is determined to keep me here — she doesn't trust me not to leave again — but … being here has kind of reminded me of why I left in the first place. Technically, college has finished classes right now, and I got a message from one of my professors reminding me that I can have my place back if I want it, but … going back to Vale…"

"I know it's scary," Jaune said, "but you can't be ruled by fear. You can't let it control you. You especially can't let it curb your life, make you settle for less than what you want out of it."

Miranda was silent for a moment. "When did you start to sound so smart?" she asked.

Jaune didn't answer that, or rather was prevented from answering that by a great cheer from the crowd as Gold and Honeysuckle Arc emerged to join the party. Jaune and Pyrrha — and Miranda too — joined in the applause as Gold made his way, waving to people as he went up onto the stage, where River and Chester played a few last flourishing notes upon their instruments and then fell silent.

There was a microphone up on stage, and Gold stood in front of it, one hand shoved into his pockets.

He leaned forwards a little as he began to speak. "I know that a lot of you are only here for the free drinks, so I'll make this quick," he said, garnering some laughter that swept across the crowd in a gentle wave of chuckling. "First of all, I want to thank my family … I want to thank my family for everything; you really make it worthwhile, growing old so I can spend more time with you; everyone, please, give it up, for my wonderful wife, my beautiful and talented daughters, and my brave son, Jaune, huntsman in training, home from Beacon; I couldn't be prouder; please, join me, put your hands together for all of them."

Jaune did not applaud. As the guests began to applaud, he looked as though he could hardly believe that some share in that applause was for him. His hands hung limp by his sides, his eyes a little wide, a stunned look on his face as though he had been struck over the head.

But Pyrrha applauded, she clapped her hands together vigorously, and as she did so, she gave Jaune a little nudge with her elbow to remind him, in case he forgot or convinced himself otherwise, that she was applauding him.

Congratulations, Jaune; you deserve this.

"But more particularly," Gold went on, as the applause began to die down, "I would like to thank my family for putting together this party, for all of this food, for the music, for making sure that we can have a great time. And thank you, all of you, whoever the hell you are." More laughter rang through the crowd. "Thank you all for coming; it's great to see so many friends here, come to—"

He was cut off by the sound of a police siren. Pyrrha turned around, as indeed did almost everyone else, to see a police car, with a crest on it that Pyrrha could not really make out in the darkness, driving up towards the party with its lights flashing. The siren had only wailed for a brief time, but as the police car approached, the siren whooped again for a few seconds.

The car pulled up on the outskirts of the party, and Sky got out, dressed in her sheriff's uniform and holding a red bullhorn in one hand. She spoke into the bullhorn, her voice echoing out across the crowd.

"I'm really sorry, folks," Sky said, "but I'm going to have to break up this party; this is an illegal gathering, in violation of town law." As she spoke, Pyrrha spotted Rouge and Kendal making their way towards Sky's car. She thought that they might be going to speak to her, to plead with her, but instead, they ignored her, walking around behind her to the back of the car.

"What law?" Gold demanded.

Rouge opened the door behind Sky and bent inside.

"The law," Sky said, "against having a birthday party without a cake!" As she spoke, Rouge emerged, carrying an enormous three-tiered birthday cake, covered in layers of icing of all the different colours of the rainbow, with fizzing sparklers set in the upper tiers, crackling as they spat off colourful sparks. Rouge staggered a little under the weight, and Kendal rushed to help her support it.

The crowd cheered as they began to carry the cake towards the buffet table, the gathered guests parting to give them an easier way there.

"Happy birthday, Dad!" Sky shouted through the bullhorn, prompting another cheer from the assembled revellers.

Gold laughed. "And that's why the first thing I did was thank my children," he said. "Now, who wants to dance?"

The crowd began to clear a space on the green as River and Chester took up their instruments again. There was a moment of pause, then River nodded, and she and her husband began to play a slow waltz.

Gold jumped down off the stage and held out his hand towards his wife. Honeysuckle joined him, placing her hand in his and allowing him to take her in hold. They began to sway across the grass, locked in an embrace, and to Pyrrha's eyes, it looked less as though Gold were leading the way and more that they both knew the steps so very well that they could move in perfect synchronisation with each other.

For a moment, no one else danced. Pyrrha wondered why, if perhaps people were leaving the first dance for Gold and Honeysuckle alone, but then she followed Jaune's gaze towards where Rouge stood at the edge of the green dancefloor, alone, hands clasped in front of her.

Pyrrha noticed that others were looking at Rouge as well; they were waiting for her to be the next to dance.

But Rueben stood apart and made no move to dance with her.

Pyrrha could not help but feel a swell of contempt for the man. What could compel him to treat his own wife thus?

Jaune frowned, then swallowed, then turned to Pyrrha. "Would you like to dance?" he asked.

Pyrrha blinked. "I would … are you sure? Rouge—"

"The quicker that other people start dancing, the quicker people will stop looking at her," Jaune said. "Plus … I want to, don't you?"

Pyrrha beamed. "I would love to," she replied.

And so, Jaune took her hand and put his other hand upon her waist, and the feeling of his fingers pressed against her so made Pyrrha's heart flutter.

And then he pressed her close against him and swept her out onto the dance floor.

It was a wonderful night. Anything else would simply be verbiage around that one point: it was a wonderful night. Every dance she danced with Jaune — and she danced many dances with Jaune that night — was wonderful. His gold suit sparkled under the lights strung up above them so that he seemed at times to be less a man and more some kind of ethereal being that had decided to bless her with his presence. Pyrrha had told Kendal that she could not imagine he would do anything to embarrass her, and he held her so gently that she could not believe he would do anything to hurt her either.

She danced with other men that night, as Jaune danced with other women; he danced with Miranda once or twice, the only one who asked her to dance; he danced with Kendal and with Rouge and with his mother too. And Pyrrha danced with other men; other men asked her to dance, which Pyrrha found incredible until she remembered that, of course, they had no idea that they were not supposed to ask, no clue that she was Pyrrha Nikos, placed upon a pedestal so high above them that even to think of asking was gross presumption. And when Jaune was otherwise engaged, she accepted their offers, although none of them danced so well as Jaune did.

Although she had to admit that Gold Arc danced well; he approached her when Jaune was dancing with his mother and seemed a little embarrassed to ask as though he expected her to refuse, just as he seemed surprised when she accepted. He did not press her close against him, as he had his wife, but he knew his steps well, and his burgeoning waistline belied a lightness on his feet.

The other men of Alba Longa … some of them were enthusiastic, some of them had some skill, but none of them were Jaune, and always to Jaune she returned, time after time.

It was a wonderful night, with a wonderful conclusion. As the night drew to a close, someone set up a camera — not a camera on their scroll but a real camera — upon a tripod, and in front of the camera — everyone who hadn't gone home yet making space for them — the Arcs gathered for a family photograph of the night.

Pyrrha stood back and watched as Jaune joined the gathering, his parents, his sisters, his brothers-in-law, all trying to sort themselves out or be sorted out by the photographer. She waited, watching from the sidelines, hands clasped together, a fond smile upon her face.

"Hey, Pyrrha!" Kendal yelled. "What are you standing over there for? Get over here!"

Pyrrha gasped. "But … but I … I mean, this is a family photograph."

"Exactly," Sky said, "but you're out of frame."

It took a moment for Pyrrha to comprehend, to accept, what they were saying, but when she did … when she did, she ran over there with unseemly haste, almost forgetting to lift up the hem of her gown so she did not trip over it as she dashed to join the others.

"It's a pity not to capture that gorgeous dress," Rouge said. "But you're almost as tall as Jaune, so you'll have to stand at the back."

"Maybe you can get a picture of just the two of you afterwards," River suggested. "One you can keep for yourselves."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea," Pyrrha said. "But right now, I'm happy to stand wherever you want me."

Because she would be standing in the frame, she would be captured in the photograph.

As Pyrrha took her place next to Jaune in the back row, her face and head visible over the smaller Arcs, even if none of the rest of her was, the smile on her face could not have been any brighter.

Because she was part of his family.

XxXxX
​

Author's Note: Both these pictures were done by the tremendously talented Tiffany Marsou, who not only did the artwork but also designed Pyrrha's dress.

This is the last chapter of Jaune and Pyrrha in Alba Longa (alone) and it is also going to be the last chapter for three weeks. The next couple of chapters were very difficult to write and so I need the break to build my backlog back up. The next chapter will be posted on Monday 29th August.