SAPR: Volume 3 (RWBY/MLP)

[ScipioSmith]

SAPR: Volume 3

Sienna Khan​

Gilda knelt upon the ground, her fingertips brushing against the grass beneath her as she turned her face downwards.

Thus bowed in supplication, she could not see the approach of the High Leader and her guards, but she could hear the heavy tread of those same guards as they approached the place where Gilda, and a few other chosen warriors of what remained of the White Fang's Vale Chapter, waited to receive her.

Gilda could hardly believe it. Sienna Khan had come here? When Strongheart had run on ahead with the news that the High Leader had not just sent a new commander to take Adam's place but had actually come herself Gilda, had boggled in disbelief. The High Leader had been a great warrior in younger days, but she rarely stirred from Menagerie these days; she commanded, she set the strategy of all the chapters across Remnant, but she no longer took the field.

But she had decided to come here, to Vale. That she had felt the need was probably not a ringing endorsement of the chapter, but Gilda couldn't deny that they could probably use the leadership that only the High Leader could provide. Mountain Glenn had left them broken, they were few in number, and even fewer of that number were any good at all; of the recruits that they had raised prior to the Mountain Glenn operation, many of them had deserted — 'deserted' might be a bit of a harsh word; they had drifted home, but Gilda could hardly blame them for that. They had joined up because they had been promised victory, the fall of Vale and the rise of the faunus; instead, they had seen their comrades die at the hands of the grimm, and they had only survived through dumb luck.

It was at times like this that you found out who had the stomach for a hard fight, a drawn-out battle with no guarantee and little chance of victory at the end of it.

There were few enough of those left in the Vale Chapter, and even amongst them, morale was in the gutter.

Nobody knew what to do to turn this situation around, Gilda least of all. Sienna Khan could not have known about all of these problems when she had decided to come to Vale personally, but it was good that she had come.

Even if it was not good for Gilda personally, it was good for the White Fang, and that was more important.

Sienna Khan had requested — via Strongheart, sent back ahead with her initial orders — that the entire chapter, what was left of it, be mustered at Adam's grave. Gilda had obliged, but she had taken Strongheart and a few others on just a little way ahead to meet the High Leader on the way.

And here she was, kneeling as she heard the thump of booted feet along the ground as Sienna and her guards approached.

The footsteps halted and fell silent. Sienna Khan's own tread was light, and now that her guards had stopped, Gilda barely heard a thing as she saw the tips of the black boots appear in her field of vision.

"Lower your aura, Gilda Swiftwing." The High Leader's voice was cold.

Gilda didn't hesitate, though she could guess what might come next. Discipline in the White Fang, such as it was, was maintained by means of harsh punishment, and failure was not indulged.

Gilda took a deep breath. "Yes, High Leader," she said, and lowered her aura, dimming her inner light to the point where it was more a flickering candle than a roaring flame.

A flickering candle that offered no protection to the chain that coiled like a serpent around her neck and dragged her face-first onto and across the ground, making her squirm and wriggle like a fish on a hook as the metal links began to bite into her throat.

"How is it that you are still alive?" Sienna demanded, her voice still lacking any trace of warmth.

"High L—" Strongheart began.

"Silence!" Sienna snapped. "I was not addressing you."

It was hard to speak with the chain crushing her windpipe, but Gilda tried to choke out, "A…Ada…Adam."

"You have the gall to blame a martyr to our cause?" Sienna snapped. "To cast aspersions on a hero who, having given his life, cannot defend himself against your slanders? Is this how you excuse your incompetence?"

Gilda didn't reply. She probably couldn't have replied even if she'd wanted to. She squirmed and writhed like a worm, tugging ineffectually at the chain as the strength ebbed from her arms. She couldn't see anything because of the spots that were rapidly proliferating in front of her eyes, blotting on the sky above her. Her lungs heaved in futile search for breath, her wings beat helplessly on the ground.

And then she was released from the chain. With one hand, Gilda clutched her raw neck as she lay, coughing and gagging and gasping for air, upon the grass now pressed flat beneath her thrashings.

As the spots began to clear from before her vision, she could see the High Leader glaring down at her.

"Have you anything to say in mitigation for your actions?" she demanded. "Why are you still alive?"

Gilda glanced away. Strongheart and the others were staring at Sienna Khan with no small degree of fear upon their faces. The High Leader's own bodyguards stood impassive, their faces concealed beneath their masks and hoods.

Slowly, and somewhat unsteadily, Gilda picked herself up to her knees once again. "I survived because … because my captain ordered me to live on."

Sienna was silent for a moment. "Then I suppose I must commend your obedience, in this case at least. It is a pity that you did not display that same loyalty to Adam always."

Gilda closed her eyes. "Yes, High Leader." Though my true failure was not being able to turn him away from the path that led to his end and our ruin.

"Adam was a great man, and a true hero to our cause," Sienna declared. "His heart now resides in Menagerie, alongside the other relics of the martyrs who, like him, made the ultimate sacrifice in our struggle for freedom. Had you supported him instead of questioning him, undermining him, and by stealth declining to obey his orders, he might have made a better end."

'Undermined'? How much did you tell them, Strongheart? What did you say? Gilda glanced at Strongheart, but alongside her panic, the buffalo faunus seemed confused.

"And yet," Sienna continued, "I am not without mercy. You have served our cause with valour in the past and may yet do so again, and with your valour, you may once again prove that you are worthy of a place of honour in the White Fang." She held out one striped hand. "Do you still hold the White Fang in your heart and yearn to set our people free from the oppression that the humans have visited upon us?"

"I do," Gilda whispered.

"Then fight for our race and earn your redemption for your past failures."

Gilda leaned forward and kissed Sienna's outstretched hand. "Thank you, High Leader."

"Rise," Sienna said, and Gilda and all the rest rose from their knees.

The leader of the White Fang was tall enough, if dwarfed in size by the spear-wielding guards who ranged around her in two columns, but she had a presence about her that far outstretched her height. As she stood, surrounded by faunus taller than she was, nevertheless, she seemed the largest person present and none felt as though they were looking down upon her.

"Pitch our camp here for now," Sienna commanded two of her guards, who hastened to obey her, before she returned her attention to Gilda. "Is … is Adam buried near here?"

Gilda bowed her head. "He is."

"And are your forces assembled there?"

"What remains of them," Gilda said.

Sienna nodded gravely. "Take me to them."

Gilda bowed her head a second time. "Follow me," she said as she turned to lead the way. Strongheart fell in beside her as she began to walk, and she heard the tramp of Sienna's guards following behind.

"I didn't say things like that about you," Strongheart murmured. "I told her the truth, but … I didn't say that you—"

"That was the truth," Gilda said. "I didn't have Adam's back up to the hilt the way I should have."

"It wouldn't have made any difference," Strongheart whispered. "I get that now. We didn't lose because you didn't like Cinder."

"I know," Gilda said softly.

"Then why doesn't the High Leader see that? I tried to tell her."

"It's not our place to question the High Leader," Gilda hissed out of the side of her mouth. "Don't worry about it, okay? I'll be fine."

Strongheart frowned. "You didn't deserve that."

Gilda couldn't suppress a chuckle. "We're in the White Fang, kid; none of us are here because we've gotten what we deserved."

They brought Sienna Khan and all her train to the hillside beneath which they had laid Adam to rest. Neither coyotes nor foxes nor the Atlesian military had disturbed the place, which lay as it had done when they had interred him here. His sword, the only marker of the place, still lay thrust into the ground, the red blade gleaming in the sunlight.

It was at the sword that Sienna Khan stared, as she stood at the bottom of the hillside. She didn't look towards the assembled faunus of the Vale chapter, gathered in untidy ranks awaiting her. Her attention was wholly fixed upon the sword, and on the dead hero who lay beneath.

"You have carved not a line, nor raised a stone," she murmured. "But left him alone with his glory … and his blade. Considering the manner of his life … I cannot say that it is inappropriate. You have honoured him as best you can, but more than that, you honoured him as befits the man he was: a warrior first and foremost, one who always put the needs of our people before his pride."

Her guards and attendants remained behind, joining Gilda and Strongheart and the survivors of the Vale chapter as the High Leader ascended the hill alone, climbing to the top as the breeze tugged at the hem of her red cape. She climbed until she had reached the grave, and Gilda watched as she reached out and placed one hand upon the tip of the sword. There she stood a moment, her head bowed, and as the sunlight fell full upon her, it cast her in silhouette beside the sword.

It almost seemed as though she was talking to Adam, communing with his indomitable spirit.

Only after she had lingered thus awhile did Sienna Khan turn to face the diminished, ragged, and bedraggled force gathered below her. They were a modest group, all that remained of a hidden army that had once ranged all across Vale and thrown a kingdom into terror with their presence. Now, the meanest Atlesian corporal's guard could have rounded them all up, if the Atlesians had known that they were here. Once, not so long ago, they had dreamed of overthrowing Vale itself and throwing one quarter of Remnant into chaos and ruin; now, they were themselves in ruins, and their courage burned so low that a stiff wind could have made cowards of them all. Gilda could feel it all around her, the malaise that it had been beyond her powers to cure, the loss of belief in themselves, in victory, the loss of faith that she could not restore. As they stood before the High Leader, their faces devoid of masks, showing their true selves before her, Gilda had to believe that Sienna Khan could perceive it as well as she could.

"Adam is dead," she declared, "and in him has perished a hero of our glorious cause. A cause that is built on sacrifices and stained with the tears that have been shed over them: Ares Claudandus, dying cold and hungry in a dungeon cell; Antoninus, put up against a wall and shot; Boukman, charging into the teeth of the oppressors' fire with a warcry on his lips … and now, Adam Taurus, cut down by she whom he … trusted most of all. Now, he has gone to join the revered martyrs of our cause, and in their noble company, he shall not feel ashamed. He takes his place in the hall of heroes, feasting and drinking with our god, and he has left it to we who remain to continue the great task to which he dedicated and, ultimately, gave his life, his soul, and everything he had besides.

"His grave is scarcely marked," she said, "and it is well that it was not dedicated, for how could we, the living, dedicate anything to the man who dedicated himself with such valour to our benefit? Rather, it is for us to dedicate ourselves to the great struggle that remains before us, the struggle that will continue until the humans accept us without condition for who we are and what we are, and all the prejudice and suffering that we endure has finally been driven entirely from the world.

"All that we ask, all that we have ever asked, is for freedom! Freedom from hate, freedom from judgement, freedom from want, freedom from hopelessness! We long for it, we yearn for it, and I see in your eyes that the same craving for freedom that burns like an inferno within my breast burns within all of you."

And as she spoke, Gilda felt the fire within her begin to burn a little brighter than before; her back straightened, and she was not alone in that. Many of the faunus around her seemed a little braver now, and more determined.

"Adam wanted freedom," Sienna said, her voice becoming a little quieter for a moment. "It was the only thing he wanted: for all of you, for all of us, to be free, to live in freedom and enjoy all the benefits that the humans who oppress us take for granted every day. He wanted us to be free to live our lives, to raise our children, to build homes and new societies, but he recognised that freedom cannot be given by benevolent allies or well-intentioned human do-gooders, for like the lien that the Schnee Dust Company pays with one hand and then takes with the other, what is given can always be taken away. True freedom, the freedom we all long for, can only ever be claimed at the point of the sword.

"The sword that we must now, all of us, take up in Adam's absence. Adam Taurus is dead, but he lives on in all of our hearts, so long as we remain true to the cause he loved so dearly. In the name of Adam Taurus, who will fight with me until the fight is won?"

"I will!" Gilda cried, and so did many others too; the shout did not spring unanimously from the lips of all the gathered faunus, but enough of them took up the defiant cry and loud enough to give Gilda a little hope for the future of the Vale chapter.

"Who will take up the sword?" Sienna asked. "Who will take up the tattered flag?"

"I will!" More faunus were shouting now; only a few had yet to be swept away by the High Leader's passion.

"Who will show Atlas, and Vale, and all these proud and arrogant men that the White Fang is not defeated?"

"I WILL!" The roar from every gathered faunus throat struck the clouds up above them and scattered birds out of the nearby trees.

Sienna smiled, her expression both beatific and fierce mingled in a single face, as she descended from the hilltop with her arms held out on either side of her, as though she would embrace them all.

"Then together," she said, "we will avenge Adam, and all the rest who had fallen on this path to freedom. Be of good heart; soon, our struggle shall begin anew. But not tonight. Tonight, we feast!"

She raised her arms above her head. "I have brought food and drink to salve your weary spirits: suckling pig ripe for the spit and the finest wine from the vineyards of Menagerie. Tonight, we will drink deep and down libations to the memory of all we've lost. Tonight … tonight, we drink down sorrow."

She smiled and motioned with a flick of her hand for them to follow.

"Gilda," she whispered. "Attend me."

Gilda bowed her head. "Yes, High Leader."

Perhaps Sienna wanted nothing more than a chance to berate her or beat her some more, but if that were so, she would submit to it. It was nothing more than she deserved.

And so, while Sienna walked a little beyond the main body of the White Fang — even her guards fell back to give her space — Gilda stayed close behind her, dogging her footsteps as she led the way back to the place where Gilda and her party had met with her not long ago. Her attendants, those whom she had left behind her to pitch her tent and set the camp, had already erected several tents, and as her guards spread out to stand sentry around the camp, Sienna headed without a word to the largest tent in the centre of it.

Gilda followed, ducking inside just behind the High Leader.

Rank has its privileges, Gilda thought as she knelt down within the tent, which was larger than some of the rooms — most of the rooms — in the house that she'd grown up in.

The furniture was sparse and austere, but it was a tent after all, and even that wasn't much to separate it from Gilda's childhood home. A low table, low enough that it was at the right height for a kneeling person, sat in the centre of the tent with a map of Vale spread out across it and four candles burning upon the table corners. A brazier full of coals burned beside it, casting the tent in an orange glow as wisps of smoke rose out of the metal can. An open cask of deep red wine sat in one corner of the tent, while a couple of silver goblets stood close by.

Sienna Khan sat down upon a bearskin on one side of the table and gestured for Gilda to sit down opposite. As Gilda did so, Sienna smoothed out her cloak.

"Wine?" Sienna asked.

Gilda folded her wings up behind her. "Thank you, my lady."

Sienna dipped one goblet into the cask. "When our forefathers first came to Menagerie, they had little experience in growing wine, so it is said. But they could not afford to import it from Mistral, and so … needs must. As the stories go, it was pretty rotten at first. But now, our chardonnay is equal to the best Mistralian, as the Mistralians could find for themselves, if they would only take up the tariffs. Which they will not, of course." She held out the wine-filled goblet. "See for yourself."

Gilda took the silver cup in one hand and downed a draught. It was sharp, tasting of spice and pepper; it burned her mouth, but in a way that left her wanting more. "It is good," she said. "It's excellent, but … I can't claim to be an expert."

Sienna snorted. "Neither can I, although I tasted enough Mistralian wine while I lived in Mistral." She filled her own goblet and took a small sip. "Very good," she said softly. "If we could only export this … the wealth of Menagerie would increase several times over. Which is why they'll never let us export." She drank a little more. "You have done well to keep what remains of the chapter together."

Gilda blinked. She wondered if she had perhaps drunk more than she thought she had. "High Leader?"

Sienna Khan smiled in a particularly feline manner. "There is a difference between what goes on in the sight of men and what goes on that cannot be seen. In public, I rebuke you and say that Adam was a great hero of the White Fang, let down by your poor service; in private, I say that … Adam Taurus was a fool, and if what I have heard from the girl Strongheart is true, his folly came close to treason against our cause."

Gilda stared at her. "But … you—"

"People need heroes," Sienna said. "They bring hope in dark times, and we have more need of hope than most, and thus, we have more need of heroes. Adam will be one of those heroes, someone to inspire our people and warm their spirits in the cold nights that will surely come."

Gilda frowned. "Forgive me, High Leader, but are all our fallen heroes … created by you this way?"

"History is written not by the winners but by those who sit down and set pen to paper," Sienna said. "Ares Claudandus sentenced Antoninus to death in order to appease the humans who thought Antoninus too much a firebrand. His own nephew, and Ares commanded him to be shot by firing squad for the crime of … wanting to go to Menagerie after all. 'How long must we live with our eyes fixed on Mistral?' Later, Ares was betrayed by those same humans he had striven so hard, sacrificed so much, to appease; the House of Thrax and Rutulus joined with Crixus to clasp Ares in irons and cast him into a cell where he died, shivering and begging to be allowed to see his wife and children one last time. Yet now … now, they are equal in death, both heroes, both martyrs, both symbols of our cause and the sacrifices that it demands."

She drank again. "So it was with Adam. He was a great man once."

"Before Cinder got her claws in him," Gilda spat.

Sienna nodded gravely. "We must talk about Cinder Fall and what she did. But Adam … he was a fierce warrior, a champion of our race, and it is as that champion that I will see him remembered. Do not mistake me; I grieve for his death. When his heart was brought to me, I wept … but for what he was, not the fool that he became. I am afraid that, in the eyes of the White Fang, you will have to redeem yourself for your actions, but in my eyes, in private … your judgement was sound, and you did well to save as many as you did."

"I saved their lives," Gilda said, "but only you could save their souls."

Sienna smiled thinly. "Leadership is about convincing people that you know the way to success; once you can convince them of that, they will follow you anywhere." She was silent for a moment. "That said, I hope you understand that you cannot lead the Vale chapter. You would be unacceptable at this point."

"I couldn't do it even if I wanted to," Gilda said. "I can't … I can't lead. Those warriors out there were lost until you came."

"That is why I have come," Sienna said. "In all of Remnant, I have too few who can lead; Adam was one, and without him … learn from me, and cover yourself in glory before my sight and the sight of your troops, and it may be that when I return to Menagerie, you are well-positioned to lead the chapter."

Gilda nodded, even as she wasn't sure that she would ever be ready to lead as the High Leader led. "You're very generous."

"I make use of such blades as present themselves to my hand," Sienna said. "Tell me about Blake Belladonna."

The change of subject threw Gilda for a moment. "Blake?"

"She was there, wasn't she?" Sienna asked. "In Mountain Glenn?"

Gilda nodded gravely. "She has joined the Atlesians."

Sienna scowled. "I loved her once. I loved her as dearly as if she were my own daughter. Yet now, she has betrayed us, betrayed me, and joined our greatest enemies." Her eyes narrowed. "You understand, don't you? You have a friend with the Atlesian forces yourself."

Gilda's jaw tightened. "Y-yes. Yes, I do. She … she was there, too."

"Would you kill her?" Sienna asked. "Would you repay her treachery with death?"

The thought of Dashie impaled upon her blade would have made Gilda shudder in any other company. "Dash— my friend would say that she isn't a traitor."

"She is a traitor to our people by taking up arms to defend the human supremacy," Sienna said. "But leave that aside; she is an enemy. Would you kill her? Could you?"

Gilda swallowed. "I … I could kill her as easily as she could kill me if our paths crossed."

Sienna stared at her for a moment. There was something sly about her smile. "A diplomatic answer, Gilda. The truth is … the truth is that if Blake were before me now, I'm not sure that I could strike her down, even after all that she has done against us."

"Because…" Gilda hesitated, feeling as though she might be on thin ice if she said this. "Because you loved her once."

Sienna nodded. "And because her parents were dear to me once, also." She shook her head. "And yet … you are less fortunate than I am."

Gilda frowned. "I'm sure that's true, High Leader, but … why?"

"Because they must die," Sienna said. "Both of them. And you must do it."

Gilda felt her throat dry up as a chill ran down her spine, making her wings ruffle involuntarily. "They … Blake and … Rainbow Dash?"

"Blake has betrayed us," Sienna said. "Rainbow Dash has betrayed our people. Both of them take up arms in defence of Atlas, the great enemy. Desertion and treason cannot be tolerated at the best of times, and what is worse…" She paused. "Have you heard the news from Atlas?"

Gilda nodded. "They've been busy," she said, not mentioning that she had put Rainbow Dash on the trail of the kidnappings in Low Town. "What they've done … I'm impressed. Rescuing all of those people, busting open that trafficking ring, it's all … and now this strike in Mantle, if the SDC makes concessions—"

"Do you think they will?" Sienna asked.

"I don't know, but the press seems to think they'll have to; apparently, the Vale Council is demanding it, and Mistral too, let alone Atlas itself. This all seems like really great news."

"It's terrible news," Sienna declared.

Gilda blinked. "'Terrible'? High Leader, forgive me, but this could lead to things in Mantle, things for everyone who works for the SDC, getting a whole lot better; plus all the poor souls who were being kept as slaves who have been freed—"

"And all without the White Fang lifting a finger or playing any part in it at all," Sienna said. "The actions of those two, skillfully promoted by the Atlesian propaganda machine, why … people may start to believe that results can be achieved more swiftly working within the system than outside of it; they may start to question the necessity of the White Fang, they may start to wonder what the point of the White Fang and our long struggle is."

"And what if they do?" Gilda asked. "If things are getting better, then does it really matter how? Isn't the condition of our people more important than how people look at the White Fang?"

"Master's tools will never dismantle the master's house," Sienna said sharply. "Blake, Rainbow Dash, they may gain one or two small concessions, they may accomplish enough to let General Ironwood point to them and proclaim in a plausible sounding tone of voice that he is not a racist, oh no, there are so many faunus in Atlas, and they're treated so well, look at them smile." The High Leader's face twisted in disgust. "But they will be swallowed up, as all faunus who have tried to walk that path have been swallowed up; the gears will squeeze them, and they will end their days … they will end their days in despair, languishing in middle-rank obscurity, Major Belladonna, passed over for promotion to Colonel again and again, pushing papers across a desk in Atlas; or they will be locked away, as Antonio was when he challenged the established order of things."

"Or they will die at my hands, as you wish," Gilda muttered. "Forgive me, High Leader, but if they're fated to fail like that, why do they need to die first? Wouldn't letting it all come to nothing be a stronger message? It sounds…" She swallowed, aware that she was treading on very, very thin ice here, but … this was Dashie's life they were talking about, and if Gilda could get out of having to cut off her head, then she would tread on thin ice in order to do it. "It sounds as if you're worried they won't fail, and you want them out of the way before they can succeed again."

Sienna's eyes narrowed. "Careful, Gilda," she murmured. "My private perception of you can always adjust to match your public reputation."

"You must do what you think is best for the White Fang," Gilda said, bowing her head and looking downwards, "but before that, I will speak the truth, as I did to Adam: I do not see the need for this."

"Do you not think that treachery should be punished?"

"Rainbow Dash is a lot of things, but not a traitor, High Leader; she has always been loyal to Atlas," Gilda said. Although maybe if she'd been a little bit more loyal to me, we wouldn't be in this position. "As for Blake … is it treachery that we are punishing, or success?"

"The people will not see the flame gutter low, will not see it burn at a low ebb, blown upon by indifference and institutional prejudice," Sienna replied. "They will only see it burn brightly, for as long as it is allowed to do so, and for that reason … we must snuff it out."

"High Leader," Gilda murmured. "I … I beg of you, she … she's my friend."

"And yet, here you are, and there she is, high in Atlas, soaring amongst the clouds," Sienna pointed out. "Quite a friend, no?"

"I know," Gilda murmured. "But … must she die? Must they die?"

"I understand your reluctance," Sienna said, her voice calm and soft and soothing. "As I said, I loved Blake very much, as my own child was she to me. But now … we must make sacrifices for the cause."

"I know," Gilda said. "But this … I am willing to give my life but—"

"Anyone can give their lives for a cause," Sienna said. "I am asking you to give more, I know: your conscience, your very soul. Can you do that? For our people, for the freedom of all faunuskind, for the good of the White Fang and all who depend on us?"

Gilda closed her eyes. Dashie…

For the good of the faunus. For the good of the White Fang.

If General Ironwood ordered you to take me out, you'd do it, right? You'd blow my head clean off.

You'd do it because you're a good soldier. And so am I.

Good soldiers on opposite sides, and that means … that means that this day was coming sooner or later.

I hate it, but…

What am I going to tell my parents? What am I going to tell your parents?

I'll tell them you were brave and did your job to the end. The same thing you'd say in my position.

Which is better than even odds, considering that I'm expected to go up against you and Blake.

Yeah, Blake. Blake was … well, Gilda wasn't Blake's old friend in the same way, and she kind of blamed her for letting Adam go off the rails the way he had, but at the same time … it was a pity. It was a pity, and she still wasn't thrilled about the idea.

The High Leader is right; Atlas is using them, propping them up to weaken the cause overall.

This … this is what has to be done.

Or try to, anyway.

"I will do my best to carry out your orders, High Leader," Gilda murmured. "But … Rainbow Dash and Blake, I'm not sure that I can—"

"I'm not suggesting that you should do this on your own," Sienna said. "I have brought a team with me from Menagerie: specialists in infiltration and assassination. You will take command, guide them through Vale, and when the moment is right … strike."

Gilda swallowed. I'm a good soldier. She bowed her head. "Yes, High Leader."

XxXxX
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Author's Note: The cover art was done for me (a couple of years ago now) by the very talented MRK50, whose absence from the fandom remains much missed.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Transfer Request

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Rainbow Dash took a deep breath.

"Are you … nervous?" asked Penny. "I don't see what you have to be nervous about."

"Nothing," Rainbow said. "Because I'm not nervous."

"Then why did you take such a deep breath?"

Rainbow glanced at her. "Because I needed air," she said.

Okay, so she was a little bit nervous. Together, there were four of them waiting outside General Ironwood's office: Rainbow, Penny, Blake, and Ciel. They were waiting there not, thankfully, because they had been called up to the General's Office aboard the Valiant but because they'd asked for some of his time and that time had been granted to them.

They were going to turn over Blake and Penny's transfer requests.

Technically, Blake was doing the right thing in turning her request over to the General first, while Penny was doing slightly the wrong thing — the system as detailed was that you submitted your request first to the headmaster of the school that you wanted to transfer to, who would then decide if he wanted you or could fit you in somewhere; then to the headmaster of the school you wanted to leave, who had far less ability to stop any student from leaving then he did to accept students who wished to arrive — but, in view of Penny's particular circumstances, they had decided it was best to let General Ironwood know before Professor Ozpin.

They were already kind of surprising him with this; it would be even worse if he found out about it after Professor Ozpin.

Yes, Rainbow was a little bit nervous. She was a little bit nervous about how General Ironwood would take this, less in terms of how he would react to Penny and more how he would react to her and Ciel letting Penny go about it this way.

Rainbow thought that she had done the right thing — procedurally; she knew that she was doing the right thing morally — in taking this approach. She had good reasons for why she had encouraged Penny to do this: if Penny wanted to be treated like just an ordinary student, then she should approach it like an ordinary student; if Penny was not, in fact, any different from an ordinary student, then she should be free to approach this like an ordinary student; sneaking around outside of proper channels confirmed everything that Penny — and Doctor Pietro too — was worried about; and, frankly, the more forewarning there was about all this, the more time there was to react against it; there were times when striking with surprise was more important than more and more preparation.

Rainbow thought that she had done the right thing, but she didn't know it, and that lack of knowing was making her a little nervous.

It was going to be fine. It was all going to be fine. General Ironwood would hear them out, and he would agree that they had no moral grounds for keeping Penny at Atlas against her will. He would agree, and he would find out that Rainbow had already got Councillor Cadance on their side as well, and he would also agree that there wasn't much anybody could do to stop Penny from doing what she wanted. He'd approve Penny's request, he would approve Blake's request — that part Rainbow really wasn't worried about — and then they would all fly back to Beacon, where Team SAPR was waiting for them along with Twilight, Neon, Starlight, Trixie, and Sunburst. Penny would go off with SAPR while the Atlesians were going to take Blake out to celebrate.

Which might be just a little premature, but in Blake's case, at least, once General Ironwood had approved her request, there wasn't a whole lot that Professor Ozpin could do about it. The system took account of the inconvenience involved in transferring students around Remnant, but ultimately, it was still a system that recognized the importance of student choice.

Which made a lot of sense to Rainbow now. After all, the gods hadn't given humanity a Relic of Avoiding Unnecessary Paperwork.

Speaking of which, I still need to talk to Ciel about the Maidens.

It was not something she was looking forward to, and it certainly wasn't something she was going to bring up while they celebrated Blake's transfer.

Which they were going to do, because that was the happy path, and things were going to proceed down the happy path.

For sure.

With luck.

Hopefully.

The door into General Ironwood's office slid open, offering a clear view of General Ironwood's desk, the window with its view of Vale and of Atlas' majestic fleet patrolling its skies, and of the General himself, sitting behind the desk.

He was looking at them, a smile gracing his face, "Come in, all of you."

"Thank you, sir," Rainbow said as the four of them entered, forming a line abreast before the desk, with Blake upon the left, then Rainbow Dash, then Penny, then finally, Ciel upon the right flank.

Rainbow, Ciel, and Blake all came to attention, saluting General Ironwood — and a pretty good salute from Blake, as well; she'd been practicing in front of a mirror. Penny did not join them.

General Ironwood's blue eyes flickered towards Blake. "Belladonna, as you aren't one of my cadets, you don't have to salute me."

"Not yet, sir," Blake replied softly.

General Ironwood didn't respond to that, instead looking at Penny, who wasn't saluting.

She didn't say anything, and neither did he.

General Ironwood returned the salutes of those who had offered them. "At ease."

Their feet struck the floor in unison as they spaced them apart and clasped their hands behind their backs.

"Thank you for seeing us, sir," Rainbow said.

"It's no trouble," General Ironwood assured her. He smiled. "I'd ask how you found your break, but from what I've heard, it was something of a working vacation for you, especially for Dash and Belladonna. I hope the break hasn't worn you out more than the semester did."

Rainbow chuckled. "Not quite, sir."

"I'm glad to hear it," the General said, "and a little surprised: one set of violent abductions foiled, one modern slavery ring exposed, and if we include Penny and Soleil, we can add a notorious thief brought to justice."

And that doesn't even include the murder, Rainbow thought. "We've kept busy, sir."

"Almost an understatement," General Ironwood murmured. "You've done good work, both of you. What you uncovered … shames Atlas, but shame must be uncovered before honour can be restored. Your actions have allowed that process to begin and justice to be done."

"Where do you think it will end, sir?" Blake asked.

"I think the Schnee Dust Company will bounce back," General Ironwood said. "The company is too large, too dominant, too rich in lien and assets in order to be brought down even by a scandal on this order of magnitude. Board members have been arrested, others may resign, but the organisation as a whole will carry on, recovering in share price, cleaning its reputation—"

"'Cleaning'?" Blake asked. "Or 'laundering'?"

"Is there a difference?" asked Penny.

"Although I would struggle to explain precisely why, cleaning implies good faith effort, laundering only the superficial appearance of the same," Ciel explained.

"People will forgive the company," General Ironwood said, "and I certainly hope and believe that the SDC will change for the better."

"You think they'll make concessions to settle the strike in Mantle then, sir?" Rainbow said.

"What else can they do?" replied the General. "Tough it out and wait for the poverty to bring Mantle to its knees? That isn't possible, politically or, I think, in a business sense. I've made clear to the Council that the military cannot endure a prolonged halt in dust processing and supply without eating into our strategic reserves, and the other kingdoms have made representations as well. And the SDC owes its position in part to the ease and reliability of doing business with it; they won't want to put that at risk. So, yes, I think that there will be a settlement, and I think that things will get better for the workforce … and I think that Jacques Schnee won't recover as quickly as his company will."

Rainbow frowned. "But he … it's because he wasn't involved, isn't it? He had no idea."

"His reputation as a master of business has taken a knock, to say the least," General Ironwood said, "and when you combine that with the climbdown that I think is coming … I'd be surprised if his voice carries the same weight that it did recently."

"And you're alright with that, sir?" asked Blake, in a voice that was soft and quiet.

General Ironwood clasped his hands together on the desk. "I've no love for the man, Belladonna."

"Maybe not, sir, but … this damages Atlas as well, doesn't it?" Blake said. "Especially when Atlas is … I understand that Atlas was coming under attack even before this."

Rainbow's mouth tightened. Even though they had been away in Atlas, they had all heard about — not least from Ruby and her account of what had happened when she went out with that Mistralian guy. It was ingratitude, pure and simple; no, it was worse than ingratitude, it was downright insulting. They had worked, sweated, put their lives on the line to defend this city and this kingdom, and this was the thanks they got: to be accused of wanting to take over, to be treated like they were the bad guys in all this; it was ridiculous!

It was so ridiculous that she was struggling to get her head around it, to tell the truth. She couldn't work out how anyone could think this way.

Although I guess you could say the same thing about the faunus; it's not like that makes much sense either.

Of course, the difference was that, although prejudice against the faunus didn't make any sense, it had been not making sense for years now, if that made sense; it had been going on for ages, and while it had always been stupid, after going on so long, it survived because, well, because it had always been around, and people who didn't like the faunus didn't stop to think much about why not. This … this seemed to have come out of nowhere over the last few weeks.

It was also making her nervous, both in the short term — what was going to happen with Blake's celebration? It would put a dampener on the mood if they got harassed for being Atlesians — and in the slightly longer term when all the rest of her friends arrived for the Vytal Festival.

Not quite nervous enough to tell her friends not to come, even if they'd listen to her, or to not celebrate Blake, because she and the occasion deserved it, but all the same, it was making her nervous.

General Ironwood said, "Tell me, Belladonna, if I was the sort of man who would prefer to maintain Atlas' reputation at the cost of keeping something like this covered up, what would you think?"

"Nothing good, sir," Blake replied.

"No," the General said, "I didn't think so." He paused for a moment. "I don't disagree that the timing is less than ideal, but it isn't your fault, and it isn't something that I expect you to care about." He paused. "What did you think of Atlas, when you saw it?"

"Atlas itself is definitely impressive," Blake said. "A marvel, really, truly a shining light. It's just a pity that light doesn't seem to extend to the rest of the kingdom."

"Sometimes there are no easy answers," General Ironwood said, "and even the answers that seem easiest to find have obstacles strewn in their path."

"Then we should try and surmount them, no?" asked Blake.

"Of course," replied the General, "but without expecting them to be surmounted easily."

"Mantle is not some helpless victim in its own fate, but a participant in the same," Ciel said crisply. "It has problems, I will not even try to deny the fact, but those problems are made in Mantle as much as they are made by Atlas to inflict upon us."

Blake leaned forwards a little to get a better look at her. "But that doesn't mean that Atlas doesn't have a responsibility to help resolve those problems."

"If they can be solved," said Ciel.

"All problems can be solved," Blake replied. "With time, and will, and resources."

Ciel did not deny it, and so a silence settled briefly in the office.

General Ironwood said, "I take it the four of you didn't ask to see me so that we could discuss Belladonna's impressions of Atlas."

"No, sir, although it's more relevant than you'd think," Rainbow replied. "We asked to see you so that we could submit these."

She got out her scroll, manipulating it one-handed so that she could maintain as much of her at-ease stance as possible, and with her thumb, pressed the 'send' button to transmit Blake and Penny's transfer requests to General Ironwood.

There was a beep from the General's desk to indicate that he had received them. He activated the holographic screen, a barrier of semi-transparent blue light dividing and yet not dividing him from the four students standing before him.

Blake's face was stoically impassive, but Penny's eyes were wide, and she began to lean forwards ever so slightly.

General Ironwood's expression had more in common with Blake than with Penny as he read through the files that Rainbow had sent him with no visible reaction whatsoever, as though none of this aroused any strong feelings in him whatsoever. He might as well have been reading a grocery list for all that it seemed to interest him at all.

It was impossible to tell what he really thought — unless he just didn't care, which Rainbow doubted.

He shut off the holographic screen, the barrier between the General and the students dissolving into nothing.

"Belladonna," he said, "your request is not unexpected." He smiled. "But no less welcome for that." He stood up. "You've already done great service to the Kingdom of Atlas, and I have no doubt that you will do as much if not more once you start wearing an Atlas uniform. Just as I have no qualms at all with approving your request. Welcome to Atlas."

"Thank you, sir," Blake said. "Your wholehearted endorsement means a lot."

The General chuckled. "Based on your record, I'd be a fool to pass you up, especially with all that you know; I can always use another operative who is privy to all the facts."

Do you know how true that is, sir? Rainbow wondered. Ciel wasn't the only one she needed to have a talk with about the Maidens.

She understood that, within Professor Ozpin's secret group, General Ironwood was only a subordinate; she understood that information needed to be kept on a need-to-know basis sometimes — and once you'd decided to go all in on secrecy, much as Rainbow disagreed with that, there was a pretty good case for keeping the Maidens very need-to-know indeed. But she had to say that it kind of hurt a little bit that Professor Ozpin had trusted Team SAPR more than the General had trusted them, even if SAPR didn't give their headmaster a whole lot of choice.

"Fitting in transfer students is always a little bit of a challenge," General Ironwood went on, "but we'll make a space for you somewhere, and somewhere close to home, if at all possible."

That's one down, Rainbow thought.

Unfortunately, that was the easy one.

General Ironwood remained standing, turning his gaze from Blake to Penny. "Penny," he said, "I'm more surprised to receive this from you. Much more surprised. Have you submitted this request to Professor Ozpin?"

"N-no, General," Penny replied. "Rainbow said it would be best to submit it to you, first."

"Sensible," General Ironwood murmured, in such a way as to suggest that sense might be rare in this situation. He glanced first at Rainbow, and then at Ciel. "I take it you were both aware of this?"

"Yes, sir."

"I was, sir."

"Something almost as surprising as the request itself," General Ironwood observed.

Rainbow swallowed. "Sir, if I may—"

"In a moment," General Ironwood said, cutting her off. "Penny, perhaps you'd best begin: what's this about?"

"I want to go to school with my friends, sir," Penny said, simply but firmly.

"Your friends meaning Beacon's Team Sapphire?"

"I hope I can make other friends," she replied. "But … yes."

"And you think that is sufficiently good reason?" asked General Ironwood.

"If I may have the General's permission to be blunt," Ciel murmured.

General Ironwood nodded. "Granted."

Ciel took a deep breath. "Either Penny has the right to request a transfer of school, or she is a slave, and we all deserve to be occupying cells next to Calliope Ferny and her SDC co-conspirators."

"That is blunt."

"But not, I think, overly hyperbolic, sir," Ciel replied. "Or, to my shame, too arguable. With all due respect, sir, and without wishing you to think that I am attempting to absolve myself through placing all the blame on you … we have been made complicit in a grave injustice, and it … soils me, sir."

General Ironwood did not immediately reply. He studied Ciel for a moment, and then a moment more, before turning his attention to Rainbow. "Do you feel the same way, Dash?"

"I'm not sure I'd put it quite that way, sir," Rainbow muttered. "But … when Penny says that she wants to go to school with her friends, put like that, it sounds like something that doesn't matter that much: this is military academy, not summer camp and all. But what it means … maybe I shouldn't put words in Penny's mouth, but she might be too nice to say that she wants to go to school with people who treat her like a person, not a … well, that isn't us, sir, and…" Here goes. "I'm not sure that it's you, sir, either."

General Ironwood did not swell up at the insult. His voice remained calm as he said, "I think you'd better explain."

"You put together a test team for Penny, sir," Rainbow explained. "Me, Ciel, Twilight, you wouldn't have done that for any other student—"

"I might end up doing it for Belladonna next year," he pointed out.

"Okay, sir, but that's how it goes with transfers," Rainbow admitted. "I should have said that you wouldn't have done it for any new students. Penny wasn't given the chance to go through Initiation and find her teammates, they were given to her, and we … well, this isn't about us, so it doesn't matter what we did or didn't do, it only matters … Penny, did you ever feel like a part of this team?"

"I…"

"Did you ever feel that you were regarded by us as part of this team," Ciel said, "and treated as an equal?"

"No," Penny said. "I always felt like I was your assignment, not your teammate or your friend."

Ciel looked away, her head bowed; Rainbow was no longer able to see her face, but she could guess the look on it.

"I know that I was created," Penny went on, "but I was created with a voice; I can tell you what I want, I can think and tell you what I'm thinking, I can feel and tell you what I'm feeling, and … and what I'm feeling is … I'm terrified of spending the next three years all alone once the Vytal Festival is over."

Silence crashed down in the office like a bomb. Nobody said anything in response to that pronouncement.

There was very little that could be said.

Rainbow's hands knotted into fists, angry not at Penny but at herself.

There was no excuse.

"Sir," she said quietly. "At this point … the only way I can think to fulfil my duty of care is to help Penny to get out from under my care and go … somewhere else. If you'll allow me to say so: sometimes, there are no easy answers, but sometimes, the answer is staring you in the face."

"And yet, even then, there may be obstacles," General Ironwood murmured.

Rainbow felt her stomach chill a little. Surely, he couldn't be about to decide against Penny.

"There is a lot of force in what you say," General Ironwood continued, his voice rising and firming up. "In what you all say. Penny … I feel as though I owe you an apology. I owe you all an apology, for putting you in this position, but Penny most of all. I thought I was doing the right thing by assembling Team Rosepetal the way I did, but maybe I would have done better by you to have kept your true nature a secret and let your teammates treat you like any other girl."

"Perhaps, sir," Ciel whispered.

"You did what you thought was right, sir," Penny said.

General Ironwood's eyebrows rose. "You want to leave Atlas so badly that you're terrified I might refuse, but you don't resent me for your situation."

"I don't blame or hate anyone," Penny said. "The fact that it didn't work out doesn't mean you didn't try your best, all of you."

General Ironwood leaned on his desk, resting his hands upon the metal. "That's … very generous of you, Penny. Very generous indeed." He looked down at his hands, and his desk, for a moment. "You understand that it is not that easy. The Council may feel entitled to a return on the considerable investment it made in creating you."

"Perhaps the Council might profitably ask itself what it was expecting in return for that investment, sir," Ciel said softly. "Or at least ask who it was expecting to give up a part of their aura in return for future Pennys. Or perhaps they might be asked to state, explicitly and without cover, what kind of world they expect any such artificial people to be born into if they deny the first of their kind exercise of her free will."

"On a more practical note," Rainbow added. "I've already spoken to Councillor Cadenza, and she's agreed to support Penny if this goes up in front of the Council."

"You spoke to the Councillor before you spoke to me?" asked General Ironwood.

"I thought it was important not to speak to you in advance, sir, on a point of principle," Rainbow replied, "that no other student would have to speak to you in advance of submitting their transfer request."

"Though it doesn't mean that they couldn't," General Ironwood responded. "Any student who was considering transferring out of Atlas could discuss the issue with me to see if we could address the reasons why they wanted to transfer or advise them on which school they would be better served transferring to."

Rainbow blinked. "That is a very good point, sir."

"But it was a good idea to gain Councillor Cadenza's support," General Ironwood went on, "although … perhaps not necessary."

"Sir?" Ciel murmured.

"Despite the possible interest of the Council in this, you make such compelling arguments for why it would be wrong to prevent Penny from following her heart that I believe it would be immoral to raise this issue and wait for them to deliberate on the question of whether Penny has a right to make her own decisions or no. Rather … I'm going to approve this request, forward it to Ozpin with a recommendation that he approve it also, and follow the same process as any other student." He frowned. "I can't make up for the mistakes of the past year, but I can avoid making them going forward."

"You mean … you're going to allow my transfer?" Penny asked, her voice fragile, brittle-sounding like glass that might shatter if dropped.

"How can I not, after hearing what I have heard?" asked the General.

Ciel began, "But the Council—"

"Won't be able to touch Penny once she is at Beacon, under Ozpin's care," said General Ironwood. "They wouldn't even be able to try and do anything without revealing Penny's true nature, which they've been reluctant to do so far and which, I hope, they would be too afraid of the consequences to do."

"They could still punish you though, sir," Rainbow pointed out.

"If they wish to do so, then that's their right," General Ironwood said. "It will say more about them than about me."

"You … you would do that for me?" Penny asked.

"I would do it because it's the right thing to do," said General Ironwood.

Penny stared at him for a moment, and for that moment, Rainbow thought that she might launch herself at the General into an embrace. But she did not. She simply clasped her hands together over her heart and said, "Thank you, sir. Thank you so much."

General Ironwood's smile seemed a little sad. "Professor Ozpin has … a lot on his mind today, so I won't bring it up with him right now, but I will very soon, you have my word, to both of you. Penny, I honestly hope that you'll be happy at Beacon."

"I'm sure I will, sir," Penny declared. "I've got no doubts, absolutely none at all."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Dusty Old Crow

​

General Ironwood had given his students — his former student in the case of Penny and his future student in the case of Belladonna — a little bit of a headstart before he, too, descended from his ship to Beacon.

He had suspected that there might be a reception committee waiting for them on the landing pad, and he hadn't wanted to kill the mood with his presence.

Given the large crowd of Atlas students — and Twilight — that he had seen making their way from the landing pads when he arrived, including Dash and Glimmer carrying Belladonna on their shoulders while she protested ineffectually, it seemed that he had been right about that.

Penny, meanwhile, he had spotted with the members of Team SAPR.

Penny's situation was one of the reasons why, as he rode the elevator up the Emerald Tower to Ozpin's office, he couldn't smile, as much as the sight of Belladonna surrounded by her new comrades might have prompted him to do so. For as much as he was gaining a wonderful new student in Belladonna, one that he had been gently angling for — and tacitly encouraging Dash to angle for — for some time, he was also losing a student, and it was his fault.

He had not treated Penny as … as he treated his other students. Which wasn't to say that he never made mistakes with his students — he did — but never severe enough to drive them away as they had Penny.

Perhaps that's because, even when I made errors with students like Glimmer, their comrades acted as a tether to hold them at Atlas. Penny didn't even have that.

Ironwood believed in his people. He believed that, though he might make errors, his kids, his men and women would, with their courage, skill, and commitment, redeem those errors and snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.

But that did not apply in Penny's case, because the kids had been — without meaning to apportion any blame to them by saying so — part of the error.

I should have let the chips fall.

Like with any other student.

At least there is still time to make it right, even if there isn't time to keep her for Atlas.

As the lift ground upwards, Ironwood turned his eyes up, as though he could see through the elevator ceiling to his destination at the very top of the tower.

His journey up here, and the reason for it, was another reason why Ironwood could not smile. Ozpin had decided that the time had come for Miss Nikos and had requested his presence at the meeting, along with Glynda.

Ironwood … Ironwood had a great many emotions about this, starting with relief that it wasn't Dash, in the end. Yes, he had put her name forward, because the times, the circumstances, demanded that he hold nothing back, that he put forward his best, but, in all honesty — and who could you be honest with if you couldn't be honest with yourself? — if he had wanted to make Dash a Maiden, then he would have put her forward for Winter when Luna fell ill. But he hadn't. He had suggested Glimmer instead because, while competent — very competent, or so it had seemed — he didn't … he hadn't wanted to lose Dash, to stuff her away in Canterlot like a miser's gold.

He still didn't. He was still relieved that he wouldn't.

But that relief didn't mean that he was without sympathy for Miss Nikos and what would be asked of her. He had supplied the machinery, but that didn't mean that he was unaware of the aspects of this that some would find … unethical.

His mind briefly returned to his conversation with Dash, Soleil, Belladonna, and Penny from just a short while earlier. If they thought that Penny's treatment was bad, it would be as nothing if or when they found out about this.

If or when. He didn't know how much leeway Ozpin was planning to give Miss Nikos in terms of telling other people about all this. He was planning to tell Miss Shimmer as well, to give her at least some support — a support which did make Ironwood wonder if Ozpin's secret hope was that Miss Nikos would refuse — but as for the rest of her team, or anyone else for that matter, he didn't know how much she would be allowed to say.

He didn't know how much either of them would respect any boundaries that Ozpin tried to place upon their tongues.

Nor did he know how Miss Nikos would take all this, and that lent a slight nervousness to go along with his sympathy for her. She was undoubtedly very talented, very well thought of, intelligent — but all of those things had been true of Glimmer as well, and it hadn't made her strong enough to bear the weight. He didn't want Ozpin to make the same mistake that he'd made.

It was a lot to put on someone, even the strongest. Of the last four girls to actually assume the powers of a Maiden, two of them had tried to flee after the fact. It was not an easy burden to bear.

Not to mention the question of how possibly the most famous girl in Mistral is supposed to disappear in Vale and be forgotten about.

But, in the present time and circumstances, they couldn't afford to hold anything back. Ozpin needed his best, and he had decided that that was Miss Nikos.

His students, his choice.

The elevator reached the top, coming to a complete stop with a small thumping sound. There was the ring of a bell before the door began to open; even before the doors had opened completely, Ironwood was assailed by the sound of voices raised in argument.

All the voices were familiar to him, even the one he hadn't heard in a while.

"There was very little choice—" Ozpin began.

"Don't talk to me about having no choice, Oz! There's always a choice, you taught me that! I can't believe this … she's a kid for crying out loud!"

"Qrow?" Ironwood asked, as he stepped out of the elevator.

There he was, the man himself: Qrow Branwen, Ozpin's top and — until recently — only field agent. He was standing in front of Ozpin's desk, one hand placed upon the transparent surface. At the sound of Ironwood's voice, he straightened up — as much as Qrow ever straightened up, anyway — and cast a disdainful gaze upon him. "Jimmy. I gotta say, I'm surprised that you went along with this. And a little disappointed."

James Ironwood was a tall man, but Qrow was nearly of a height with him, less than an inch between them, although Qrow seemed a deal shorter with the way he walked around with a habitual stoop, as if he was carrying an immense weight upon his shoulders — or as if he'd been born with a crooked back. He was wearing the same clothes that he'd been wearing when Ironwood had seen him last, over a year ago — which were still the same clothes that he'd been wearing years before that when Ironwood had picked up Team STRQ after their failed attack on Salem. Did the man only have one outfit, or did he have multiples of the exact same thing? Surely, he changed clothes sometimes?

Said outfit consisted of a pair of plain and unadorned black pants, with a dark grey waistcoat — no shirt underneath — and a light grey jacket with black lining visible on the collar and the rolled-up sleeves. Were it not for the ragged red cape, ripped and tattered at the hem, that hung off his shoulders, he might have looked like some sort of itinerant businessman, perhaps a travelling salesman down on his luck.

One who had forgotten to shave.

The only part of Qrow's appearance that seemed well cared for was his jet black hair — he had not started going grey yet, lucky him — which he kept slicked back, save for the bangs that covered his forehead.

"I didn't think it was possible for me to disappoint you," Ironwood observed.

Qrow stared at Ironwood for a moment with his red eyes, before turning away, pulling a hip flask out of his pocket. "Yeah? Me too, Jimmy." He unscrewed the top of his flask and took a drink. "Me too."

"Thank you for coming, James," Ozpin said, from where he was seated behind his desk. "As you can see, Qrow has returned—"

"To find out that I've wasted the last year and that everything's turned into a real mess while I was away," Qrow muttered, turning away from Ironwood and walking to the windows that looked out across the city and the school.

"Qrow—" Glynda began.

"Don't," Qrow cut her off, raising one hand. "Don't defend this, Glynda, it… you should have called, Oz."

"You were out of contact," Glynda said.

"I sent you a message!" Qrow snapped, rounding on them. "I told you 'Queen has pawns'; it was a warning."

"And then we didn't hear anything else out of you until now," Glynda said. "We thought you were compromised — or worse."

"You think that I'd get caught or killed that easily?" Qrow replied. "Nice to know you all have so much faith in me."

He took another drink from his flask. "You could have called. You should have called. You know how it goes when I'm on an assignment like this; I don't get in contact unless I have something to report, but you can always reach me if you need me! You need me to find Amber, you call me; you need me to find out who attacked Amber, you call me; you need someone to go to Mountain Glenn and check it out, you call me, Oz! You don't ask Jimmy to find you some stuffed shirts, and you don't get Ruby involved in all of this, you call me! Because I'm your guy, and I…" He turned away. "She's a kid, Oz."

"She has silver eyes," Ozpin said softly. "You know how unlikely it is that she will be able to stand aloof from this struggle all her life. Nor do I think she would wish to."

"Of course she wouldn't," Qrow muttered. "Ruby … she's got too much of her mom in her for that. But that doesn't mean that she's ready to jump in feet first; she's fifteen! She should be worrying about boys, not the fate of the world."

He paused. "I don't actually want her worrying about boys, either; is there something else that you're not telling me?"

"I don't keep track of the personal lives of my students," Ozpin murmured.

"But as far as I am aware," Glynda said, "no, there is no boy."

"Thank gods for small mercies, I guess," Qrow growled.

Ironwood took a deep breath, clasping his hands together behind his back as he walked around the edge of the room. "I take it that you've been briefed."

"Like I said, I found out that I've been wasting my time," Qrow said. "I come back to tell Oz that our enemy, the one who attacked Amber, is here at Beacon, and what do I find? I find out that you already knew that — 'knew' being the operative word because she's gone now. I find out that you knew her name, which was more than I managed to find out." He paused. "Do you think that Leo's been compromised?"

"The thought crossed my mind," Ironwood said.

"I do not believe it," Ozpin said.

"I know that you don't want to believe it," Qrow said. "I don't want to believe it either, but—"

"Leo has served me faithfully for as long as any of you in this room," Ozpin declared. "I will not condemn him based on circumstantial evidence. He has explained his actions, and I have accepted his explanation. There is nothing more to be said on the matter."

"You mean you accepted that he let our enemy waltz into Beacon wearing a Haven uniform because he wanted to win the Vytal Festival so badly that he didn't do his diligence?" asked Qrow.

"There is nothing more to be said on the matter," Ozpin repeated, more firmly and more heavily this time.

Qrow frowned but didn't push the matter further. Rather he said, "And I found out that, as a result of all this, when you got a tip about this Cinder chick holing up in Mountain Glenn with the White Fang, instead of calling me, you decided to brief Ruby, and her friends, and some of Jimmy's kids, and sent them off into that oversized tomb instead." He looked at Ironwood. "I didn't think you had it in you to do something like that."

"Bring any of my students in?" Ironwood asked. "I've done it before."

"Yeah, that kid who lost it," Qrow said. "What was her name, Twilight—"

"Starlight," Ironwood said. "Starlight Glimmer."

"Whatever," Qrow muttered. "I know the Great War was fought so we could all have colourful names, but sometimes, it gets a little ridiculous." He paused, "But that's different, that doesn't … it's different. I knew that you were ambitious, but I didn't think you'd push your kids forward to take part in this war the way you have. I thought you'd think it was too risky for them."

Again, he turned his attention outwards, to the city of Vale and to the fleet that guarded it. "You know, they're starting to hate you down there."

"I'm aware of the sentiments that are being expressed in some quarters," Ironwood said softly. "It's a few malcontents."

"I'm afraid it's a little more than that; they're starting to really hate you down there," Qrow said. "I felt it when I was on my way up here—"

"Trawling every bar along the way, no doubt," Glynda muttered.

Qrow sniggered. "Hey, you wanna know what people are thinking, you could do worse than go to where they drink and listen to what they have to say."

"And what are they saying?" Ozpin asked.

"A lot, and a lot of it not good," Qrow replied. "It's not just Atlas that they hate — I could understand that; I share the sentiment — but the faunus as well. Now, faunus are kind of creepy—"

"That's not funny," Ironwood said.

"Was I making a joke?"

"I hope so," Ironwood replied in a voice that had just a hint of a growl about it.

Qrow looked back at Ironwood so that the latter could see him rolling his eyes at what he no doubt saw as Ironwood's po-faced righteousness. "Anyway, the faunus don't deserve to be hated, unlike some people, but they're catching heat just as much as Atlas is."

"I've already discussed this with the First Councillor," Ozpin said. "He intends to beef up police presence during the Vytal Festival to protect visiting tourists."

"What about the faunus?" asked Glynda.

"Councillor Emerald doubts that they would appreciate police protection if it were offered," Ozpin answered.

"It might not be enough," Qrow muttered. "There's an ugly mood out there."

"How bad is it?" asked Ozpin quietly. "How widespread?"

"I didn't check the whole city," said Qrow, "but widespread enough." He turned around to face Ironwood. "You shouldn't have brought your fleet with you."

"Without my forces, Vale would have been in a whole lot more trouble than it is," Ironwood said. "Without my forces, we wouldn't be talking about the Vytal Festival but about where to settle refugees from Vale in Mistral or Atlas."

"And yet, they have put an energy in the air," Ozpin murmured, "one that would not be present were it not for the vast military armada overhead."

"If people don't know why we're here after the Breach, that isn't my fault," Ironwood said. "People's reaction isn't my fault."

"The consequences of your actions aren't your fault?" Qrow asked. "Very mature."

"Qrow," Glynda chided him. "As much as I find Atlesian displays of military prowess … ridiculous, James' fleet was of great help during the Breach."

"I'm just saying there's no gratitude down there that I could find," Qrow said. "I'm also saying there's a reason we work in the shadows and use our discretion."

"Discretion wouldn't have done a thing when that tunnel opened up and a horde of grimm started pouring into the city," Ironwood replied. "Discretion wasn't going to remind … the people of Vale can hate me if they want to, they can hate the sight of my ships overhead, they can be as ungrateful as they like, but while my ships are overhead, the people of this city will know they are protected, and our enemies will fear our strength."

"'Fear'?" Qrow repeated, taking a step towards him. "You think they're scared?"

"I think that we've heard nothing from the White Fang since the Breach, so yes, I think that those that are yet living are intimidated by the power that we can bring to bear against them."

"The White Fang aren't our real problem," Qrow said, "and the grimm don't know fear. Just like you don't know what's waiting out there, the things that she's made."

"They don't know me and mine either," Ironwood declared.

Qrow looked away, out of the window. "I think I can see some of your kids," he said, his tone becoming almost casual. "Looks like they're having a party on the lawn."

"Yes, they're mine," Ironwood said. "They're celebrating."

"'Celebrating'?" Qrow asked. "Celebrating what?"

Ironwood glanced at Ozpin. "One of your students has submitted a request to transfer to Atlas."

"Ah, Miss Belladonna I presume?" Ozpin replied. "That is a pity, but not unexpected."

"Someone wants to leave Beacon and go to Atlas?" Qrow asked in disbelief. "Is she stupid or just a glutton for punishment?"

"One of my students is also asking to transfer to Beacon—" Ironwood went on.

"Smart girl," Qrow muttered.

Ironwood ignored him to go on, "I wasn't going to submit the forms right away, because … you're a little busy today."

Ozpin smiled slightly. "Thank you for your consideration, James."

"And so, this transfer student," Qrow said, "she's the one this is all about?"

"Belladonna has made quite an impression," Ironwood explained.

Qrow snorted. "Picnics on the courtyard grass," he muttered, shaking his head. "Gods, was I ever that young?" He looked at Ironwood. "They're not ready for what's out there. For what's coming."

"No," Ironwood said softly. "But they'll meet it bravely when it comes. If Salem takes their valour too lightly, then she'll regret it." He paused. "But that is why I brought the fleet, that's why I brought all these airships that you hate so much, so that they wouldn't have to be ready, so that they wouldn't have to face it on their own without backup. And I'd do it again, though it incense the whole of Vale so much that they rise up against me."

Qrow smirked. "Of course you would," he murmured wearily. "Because they're your kids. Except they aren't, and you'd be better off if you remembered that."

"How so?" asked Ironwood.

"You know how so," Qrow said sharply. "There's … eight kids down there on the lawn. Assuming they all live long enough to graduate, the odds are still good that half of them will be dead before they turn thirty. Chances are, by the time they turn forty, there'll be two left at most."

"I try and give them the tools to improve those odds where I can," Ironwood said.

"Good for you," Qrow said; it was hard to tell if he was being sincere or not because the drink gave him a perpetual surliness in his tone. "My point is that it doesn't do any good to get too attached to anyone in this line of work. It's a recipe for heartache."

"I take it that Ruby and Yang can't expect a visit from you then, while you're here?" asked Glynda.

Qrow took another drink, one that seemed longer than the others. "It's best if I stay away," he muttered.

"Best for who?" asked Glynda.

"For them! Bad things happen when I'm around."

"Qrow, your semblance is a part of who you are," Ozpin said. "It isn't something to be ashamed of, or feared."

"Easy for you to say; it's not your semblance," Qrow muttered.

"I'm sure they would be delighted to see you," said Ozpin.

"I know that Miss Xiao Long has some questions for you," Glynda added.

"And as you've pointed out, the mission that I assigned to you has been rendered rather superfluous," Ozpin went on, "so I would like you to remain at Beacon, or at least around Vale, while the Vytal Festival goes on and this … this business is conducted."

"You don't want me to take your new guardian away?" Qrow asked. "Whisk her somewhere safe?"

"Not yet," Ozpin replied. "Not until we know … more."

Everyone was silent for a moment. No one blamed Ozpin for not elaborating on what he meant by 'more.' They all knew, and it was … difficult, to speak of.

"So," Ozpin went on, "you will have time to spend with your nieces, and I would advise that you do. Although … in the circumstances, I cannot deny that there might be something in what you say with regards to the benefits of a lack of attachment."

"You've chosen a guardian, then?" asked Qrow.

"Yes," Ozpin said softly. "Yes, I have chosen. I have had my eye on her for quite some time, ever since she applied to Beacon, I thought that … that she might be the one. She is intelligent, caring, strong—"

"Is she ready?" Qrow asked.

"No one is ever truly ready," Ozpin whispered.

Qrow sighed. "So … who is she?"

The elevator door opened, and Miss Nikos emerged into the office, accompanied by Miss Shimmer.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Professor," Pyrrha said, as she looked around the room. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Not at all, Miss Nikos," Ozpin said, making his voice sound a good deal more genial than it had sounded just a moment earlier. "I'd say you're just in time."

 

[ScipioSmith]

The Girl in the Glass Coffin​

Sunset's ears twitched as she scratched the back of her head. "Penny's in a good mood, huh?"

Pyrrha smiled. "Understandable, I think. If she had not wanted to transfer to Beacon, then she would hardly have applied to transfer to Beacon, would she?"

Sunset let out a little chuckle. "No," she said. "I guess not. Still, she's in a very good mood."

"Indeed," Pyrrha agreed. "It's rather a pity that we had to go."

"I'm sure Ruby and Jaune will look after her," Sunset said.

"So am I," Pyrrha replied. "But a pity, nonetheless."

They had, after all, been having a rather nice time. Penny was certainly exuberant about her upcoming transfer, which seemed to have had the largest obstacle to it cleared away and to be almost guaranteed now.

"We should take her out tonight," Pyrrha said. "To Benni Havens, or maybe to somewhere nice in Vale." Not too nice, Penny wouldn't want anywhere that was too formal or stuck-up, but somewhere nice, nonetheless.

Sunset glanced at her. "Penny doesn't eat."

"She can appear to eat," Pyrrha reminded her. "Which reminds me, we should probably ask Twilight how to open up her chest and remove and replace the, um, the bag or whatever it's called that her food goes into."

"Mmm," Sunset murmured. "That's … that's a point, isn't it?"

"What is?"

"Well, somebody is going to have to do that," Sunset said. "And maybe other things besides; unless Penny can open up her own chest, maybe she can, but it'll look odd if anyone catches her doing it. Is she going to tell her new team that she's a robot?"

"I suppose that's up to her. It will probably depend on who her new teammates are. Do you think she'll be assigned to Team Iron?"

"That would be easy," Sunset said. "Although Y-R-P-N would be stretching the point for a pronunciation of 'Iron' even more than the B is at the moment."

Pyrrha laughed softly. "True." She paused for a moment, considering. "It's a very unfortunate set of letters, isn't it? The lack of vowels in particular is quite a hindrance."

"Especially since you have to lead with a Y," Sunset said. "If Ren were the leader, you could have Team Ripen."

Pyrrha's brow furrowed slightly. "Ripen isn't a colour."

"Lots of fruit ripens, and fruit is colourful," Sunset pointed out. "In fact, some fruit changes colour depending on whether it's unripe, ripe, or overripe, so it's especially evocative of colour. Or you could keep the letters in the same order and have Team Riparian."

"You could," Pyrrha said. "If Ren were the leader instead of Yang." She gave it some more thought. "Team Xiphos?"

Sunset looked up at her. "'Xiphos'?"

"It's a type of sword," Pyrrha explained. "Swords being frequently grey and metallic in colour."

"I know what a Xiphos is; I'm just not sure how you're spelling it."

"X-L-P-V," Pyrrha said. "The L for Lie is used in place of an I and V can be used for the F sound in Xiphos, as it is in Coffee."

"That's a bit of a reach, don't you think?" Sunset asked.

"Can you think of a better idea that preserves Yang's leadership?" asked Pyrrha.

"No," admitted Sunset. "Of course, we don't know that she'll get placed with Iron, convenient as it would be."

"True, but it would be very convenient; I think they could be trusted to know the truth, don't you?"

"Yeah, if anyone could, it's them," Sunset replied. "Yang would take it in stride and Nora—"

"Would love it," Pyrrha said, a slight smile playing across her face. "If… if it is not them, then—"

"Don't say it," Sunset cut her off. "Don't even think about it."

"We are the people who know her best," Pyrrha pointed out. "We are the reason she decided to come to Beacon in the first place."

"Alright then, tell me who you want to lose in order to take Penny," Sunset replied.

"I would, of course, be willing to—"

"Not going to happen," Sunset said, her words as heavy as the descending blade of an executioner's axe, cutting off Pyrrha's words.

"You can hardly expect me to name someone else," Pyrrha said, a slight note of reproach creeping into her voice.

"No," Sunset said. "I don't."

Pyrrha smiled ever so slightly. "What happened to respecting the choices of others?"

"There are limits to my respect," Sunset declared, "and what you're proposing goes beyond them. Besides which, my nerves have been frayed quite enough lately by the choices other people have made which I have, more fool me, committed myself to respecting. I don't know what I'd do if I had to respect you or Ruby or Jaune waltzing off to join some team of no-marks out on missions where I wasn't and couldn't influence anything. I should lose my hair from worry, most like, or see my tail fall off. No thank you."

"Can your tail—?"

"I'm not willing to risk it," Sunset said, as said tail shook from side to side. She folded her arms. "Don't mistake me, I like Penny; I like her a lot. I just … don't want to lose anyone." She blinked. "Hey, maybe we should ask Professor Ozpin if Penny can stay with us, like Blake did for a little bit?"

"You mean a five-person team?" Pyrrha asked.

"I don't see why not," Sunset said. "There are two Ps in 'sapphire' after all, why not in Team Sapphire?"

"It seems rather irregular," Pyrrha murmured. "Especially when there are two first-year teams missing a member, or will be when Blake transfers."

"Yeah, but you don't honestly want Penny to join Team Bluebell, do you?" Sunset asked. "Do you trust them with her?"

"They are our peers and fellow students, Sunset," Pyrrha said, and this time, reproach did more than creep into her voice; it opened up the door and walked in. "You shouldn't speak of them that way. Sky gave his life defending Vale; that is as worthy a thing as any huntsman has ever done or could do."

Sunset frowned, as her arms fell down to her sides. "Yeah," she muttered. "Yeah, I know."

Pyrrha decided that it might be best to change the subject. "I … hope that Blake is having a good time with the Atlesians."

"I'm sure she is," Sunset said softly.

I suppose that wasn't a very good choice of subject either. "I'm sorry."

"What for?" Sunset asked. "It's fine, it's not your fault, it's fine. This is what she wants. They don't deserve her, but … it's what she wants. I'm sure they'll take good care of her." She looked at Pyrrha once again. "In the meantime, what do you think Professor Ozpin wants with the two of us?"

"I've really no idea," Pyrrha said. "I know no more of this than you do. In any case, I shouldn't think we have very long to wait to find out."

"No," Sunset agreed. "No, I suppose we don't."

The elevator came to a stop, and the doors opened to reveal that the room was occupied not only by Professor Ozpin, but also by Professor Goodwitch, General Ironwood, and a man whom Pyrrha did not know, a man in his early middle age with black hair slicked back in such a way that vaguely resembled a bird's tail feathers with the way it stuck out behind his head, with stubble on his cheeks and lines beneath his red eyes. He was dressed rather casually compared to the other three people in the room, in a jacket and waistcoat with no shirt.

He looked like the sort of man her servants would have sent to the tradesman's entrance if he had shown up at the door — and even then, there was no guarantee they would have let him in — although, of course, the fact that he would have been a victim of snobbery in Mistral was no indicator of a lack of worth.

But even in this company, he looked somewhat under-dressed.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Pyrrha said, as she and Sunset stepped out of the lift. "We didn't mean to interrupt."

"Not at all, Miss Nikos," Professor Ozpin said genially, rising from his seat. "I'd say you're just in time."

'Just in time'? Just in time for what, Professor?

"Professor," Sunset murmured, bowing her head. "Professor Goodwitch, General Ironwood."

"Good afternoon, Miss Shimmer," Professor Goodwitch said.

"So," the man said, not bothering to introduce himself, "you're Ruby's team mates, huh?"

Sunset glanced at Pyrrha.

"If you mean Ruby Rose, then yes," Pyrrha replied. "We have that pleasure. It appears you have the advantage of us, sir."

The man grunted. "The name's Qrow."

"Qrow is a trusted colleague of mine," Professor Ozpin said, sitting back down again. "He is my most capable field agent."

"I was your only field agent," Qrow muttered. "I should still be your only field agent."

"Qrow," Professor Goodwitch began.

"I know, I know, necessity," Qrow said. "Doesn't change the fact that this isn't what I had in mind for Ruby's school days."

"Qrow," Sunset repeated. "Qrow Branwen, the Q in Team Stark?"

Qrow's eyebrows rose. "Yeah. How did you know it was spelled that way?"

"Our dorm room used to be yours," Pyrrha explained.

Qrow stared at them for a moment before he snorted. "The wall," he said, "that carving."

"Precisely," Pyrrha said. "We found the marks you made: S-T-R-Q. We took the liberty of adding our own initials beneath them."

Qrow shook his head. "That … that was Summer's idea," he said. "She thought … it doesn't matter. Kind of a waste of time, really, but knock yourselves out, I guess."

"Ruby didn't mention that you were coming to visit," Sunset said.

"She doesn't know I'm here."

"Why not?" asked Pyrrha.

"Because none of your business!" Qrow said sharply. "What is this, an interrogation? She doesn't know, end of story."

"But Qrow will certainly be paying his nieces a visit in the course of his stay here," Professor Goodwitch said.

Qrow looked at her.

"Do you think that Miss Shimmer and Miss Nikos are going to keep your presence secret, when you've given them no reason to do so?" asked Professor Goodwitch.

Qrow sighed and pulled a hip flask out of his pocket, unscrewing the top and taking a swig out of it. "This is not what I wanted Ruby's school days to be like," he repeated.

"From what I understand, this is pretty much what your school days were like," Sunset pointed out.

"Yeah, why do you think I didn't want it for Ruby?" Qrow asked. "This work, this war you've gotten yourselves into … some, it kills, and some, it breaks, and it leaves precious few unscathed. So I look at the two of you."

He took a step towards them, a slightly swaying, slightly staggering step, and glanced rapidly between them, his red eyes flicking from Pyrrha to Sunset and then back again. "I look at you, and I find myself wondering which is which."

Sunset's hands clenched into fists.

"That's enough, Qrow," Professor Ozpin said before Sunset could say anything. "Miss Nikos, Miss Shimmer, I expect you must be wondering why I called you here."

"We were curious, Professor, yes," Pyrrha said.

"Indeed," Professor Ozpin said, sounding weary all of a sudden. "When I enlightened the two of you, and Miss Dash and Miss Sparkle, I withheld certain pieces of information. Some of that information you have since learned, regarding the Maidens. However, there are still things that you do not know, and of some of those things I must enlighten you now. It is time.

"Some would say that it is past time." Professor Ozpin blinked and looked down at his desk for a moment, letting silence fall in the office, broken only by the grinding gears of the clock above as they turned inexorably, heedlessly onwards. "The fact is, when Miss Fall named herself the Fall Maiden to you during your excursion in pursuit of Doctor Merlot, she lied, at least in part. Cinder Fall is not the true Fall Maiden."

He rose to his feet. "Pyrrha Nikos, you have been chosen to become the next Fall Maiden."

Pyrrha's eyes widened. She found herself taking a step backward. She found that she was barely aware of anything or anyone else in the room besides herself and Professor Ozpin, whose words echoed through her mind.

Chosen to become the next Fall Maiden. That was … it was a great honour that she was being offered, there could be no doubting that. The Maidens of old, before they had been hidden away for their own good and for the good of the world, had been not only great warriors but prophets, teachers, leaders, figures of reverence, and she … she was found worthy — whether worthy by Professor Ozpin or by fate itself, she could not say, it was a great honour either way — to join their number? It was a great honour, a tremendous honour, an honour such as she would never again be offered in her life, and yet … and yet…

And yet.

And yet … what would it mean for her life? For it was not a Maiden as of old that she would become, but a Maiden whom Professor Ozpin and his allies hid away to keep safe from harm, to protect them from the malice of Salem but also to protect the world from the Maidens and what they might do.

What would that mean for her? Would she have to go into hiding? Would she be forced to leave Beacon, leave her friends, leave Jaune? How else was it to remain secret, what she had become? She could control the powers, she supposed; she was good at that, she had been doing it ever since she was a child, if there was anyone who could be discreet about their abilities that the world never suspected that she had them, then that person was Pyrrha Nikos. But that was a very risky hope to hang a matter of such secrecy upon, was it not?

She wanted this. She had not known she wanted it until it was placed before her, but now, like someone who doesn't know that they're hungry until they smell food being cooked in the next room, Pyrrha wanted this. Professor Ozpin was not just offering her great honour, he was offering her the ability to face the dark forces of Remnant that menaced humanity head, to do battle with things that a mere huntress could never hope to prevail against, possibly not even with the support of a team. Perhaps, as she was now, she could prevail against Cinder and her magic, but if she were the Fall Maiden, then how could the outcome be doubted? Would she not smite down evil and lay it to waste? Would she not guard so much that was good and worthy of protection? What could she not do, armed with a Maiden's power?

If Professor Ozpin would let her use the powers he offered, then … then he was offering Pyrrha nothing less than her destiny itself. All that she had desired since she was young, all her ambitions, all her hopes … he offered all of them to her, here and now.

Yet still, she hesitated nonetheless. The fact that Pyrrha wanted this was no sign that she ought to take it. Some might argue that the reverse was true, that by wanting it so badly, it was a sign that she ought not to take it.

After all, if the person most to be trusted with power was one who did not seek it, then what did that say of the desire that had immediately lighted in her breast as though someone had flicked on a switch?

"Professor," she said softly, "I … I don't know if I'm worthy of this."

"If you are not worthy, Miss Nikos," Professor Ozpin said, "then no one is."

Qrow looked as though he might want to argue in favour of the latter case, but it was clear that no one in the room wished — or dared — to interrupt Ozpin in this moment. There was something sacral in the air that, for the moment, held them spellbound, a sense of a high priest dispensing a blessing to his acolyte.

Pyrrha felt very small, dwarfed by the majestic enormity of what was being asked of her: to take upon herself fully one quarter of the world's magic, to become the latest link in a chain stretching back over a thousand years, to become … to become a Maiden.

I don't know if I'm ready for this.

Does the world have time for me to be ready?

"How … how?" she asked softly.

"And how is Cinder not the Fall Maiden?" Sunset asked, breaking the spell. "If she's actually one of the other Maidens, then why lie about it? And if not that, then where does her power come from?"

Professor Ozpin rubbed the space between his eyebrows with one hand. "The answer to both your questions are intertwined." He stood up. "If you'll come with me please."

They all crowded into the elevator, Pyrrha and Sunset standing side by side at the back while Professor Ozpin, Professor Goodwitch, General Ironwood, and Qrow Branwen crowded in ahead of them.

It was a little snug within the lift, to be sure, but even cramped as they were, Pyrrha was still able to see Professor Ozpin pull out a key from his waistcoat pocket, which he used to open one of the locked side panels on the elevator cab wall, which Pyrrha had assumed was used for maintenance of some kind.

Instead, there was a button which he pressed.

"Where are we going, Professor?" Pyrrha asked.

"Down to the vault," Professor Ozpin said. "Under the school."

There's a vault under the school? What kind of vault? Why is it under the school? Why is it a secret?

That last question sounded absurd the more she thought about it — she was here in the company of the other members of a secret society, was it any great surprise that they would have a secret location that they used for their own purposes?

Nevertheless, it was still a surprise to her.

Neither Ozpin nor Goodwitch nor Qrow nor General Ironwood said anything else to her as the lift descended. Their silence made Pyrrha hesitant to ask them anything in turn, though she had questions; she trusted that they would be answered in good time.

At the same time, she could not describe their silence as a comfortable one. It was tense, brittle, as if there was something that needed to be said but which they were all quite carefully not saying … or did not wish to say. The fact that Professor Goodwitch was looking at her with pity, while Qrow had something almost predatory in his gaze didn't really help matters either. General Ironwood did not look at her — or would not.

They did not look as though they were about to bestow on Pyrrha some great honour; in fact, the longer it went on, the less Pyrrha was put in mind of a high priest dispensing a blessing and more of him laying the sacrifice upon the altar and preparing the knife.

She felt Sunset's hand slip into hers and squeeze it gently.

"I've got your back," Sunset said, with a faint smile on her face.

"Sunset," Pyrrha murmured.

"You know, it's funny," Sunset said. "There was a time when I would have given everything, absolutely everything, to be standing where you are now: to be told that I had been marked out for greatness, to be elevated above all others, chosen to receive great power and ascend to become something higher than a mere mortal. I guess that's why nobody ever offers me anything like that, huh? They could see I wanted it too badly."

Pyrrha glanced at the adults accompanying them, but none of them seemed inclined to comment on what Sunset was saying. It was as if they were capable of tuning out anything that Sunset and Pyrrha might say to one another, as though it was nothing to do with them at all.

"And … now?" Pyrrha asked. Now that I am standing where you are, do you hold it against me?

"Like I said," Sunset said, "I've worked out why nobody ever offers me this kind of thing." She was smiling, but there was a touch of sadness about it too. "If I couldn't be a princess, if I couldn't be … if I couldn't be her student, then I thought … it was that or nothing, and so I ran away. I ran and ran chasing a destiny that I couldn't accept was already gone beyond recall. I ran so far that I found you. I'm not going to run anymore. You're stuck with me, hero."

The well of gratitude that Pyrrha felt caused a smile to blossom on her face. "Thank you, Sunset, that means … that means a great deal. Yet, all the same … I can't help but feel that I'm stealing something from you."

Sunset shook her head. "This is your moment. Your ascension. You're about to become something more than most people could ever dream of. This hour is yours, not something for me to take away from you. I'll just have to be the best huntress I can be and hope that's enough to escape the shadow of your wings."

"My wings?"

"I'll explain later if you're still interested," Sunset said.

He mostly had his back to her, but it seemed as though Professor Ozpin was smiling as he listened to their exchange without interrupting it.

"So how does it feel?" Sunset continued. "Knowing that you're about to ascend."

"You keep saying that as though I'm about to transform," Pyrrha said, "like a caterpillar becoming a butterfly."

"Sorry, it's an old habit from back home; it's just the way I think about it," Sunset said. "But how does it feel?"

"It's … it's a little intimidating," Pyrrha confessed. "I just wish I understood what this would mean for me."

She had said that a little louder, in the hope that Professor Ozpin might give her an answer for it.

He didn't.

Pyrrha looked into Sunset's eyes and tried to convey with her gaze her confusion about why everyone had suddenly turned so taciturn.

"It's going to be fine," Sunset said. "You can do this. And whatever happens next, you'll still have us."

Pyrrha took a deep breath in and out, centring herself. "Thank you."

"Any time."

The elevator came to a stop, and the doors opened. Professor Ozpin, Professor Goodwitch, General Ironwood, and Qrow all got out, leaving Pyrrha and Sunset to follow them out, more slowly and more warily than the authority figures who had gone before.

They emerged from out of the lift into what was presumably the vault beneath the school that Professor Ozpin had spoken of, and it must have been far indeed beneath the school, considering how high up the ceiling was; in fact, the ceiling was so high that it receded into the darkness and could barely be seen.

Sunset got out her scroll, and looking at it, Pyrrha could see that there was no signal. They really were a very long way down.

And in what must be one of the largest structures in the school, what is more.

Perhaps it was just the fact that Pyrrha's mind had been pointed in that direction already, but there was a grave sepulchral feeling to this vast, expansive place: the ceiling was high and vaulted, while the vault itself took the form of a long transept lined with colonnades on either side. Sconces set onto the columns burned with green fire — or at least the appearance of the same — that cast the dark enclave in a soft emerald light.

"Students," Professor Ozpin called, turning back to face them. "Please, don't dawdle."

All of the other teachers and Qrow had stopped to wait for them; Qrow in particular looked rather impatient.

"I'm sorry, Professor," Pyrrha said as she led the way and Sunset followed on behind. That was something she might have to get used to, if she went through with this: people following her.

Professor Goodwitch gave her a sympathetic smile as she started to catch up. "I'm sure you have questions."

"You've heard two of them already," Pyrrha pointed out.

"Before that, there are things that you must understand," Professor Ozpin said from the front of the group as he once more led the way down the long transept. "In your research, you were not able to ascertain how the powers of a Maiden were passed down from one to another."

"I worked out that you could get the powers by killing the previous Maiden, Professor," Sunset said. "The stories were quite clear about that."

"And yet the stories were not entirely accurate," Professor Ozpin said. "The rules by which the mantle of the Maiden passes from one to another are straightforward, more so than you might think: the person who is in the previous Maiden's last thoughts before she dies will inherit her mantle as the new Maiden of that season. Provided, of course, that they are eligible."

"Meaning no dudes allowed, and no old hags either," Qrow commented.

"Or another Maiden," Professor Goodwitch added. "Just as summer and winter cannot be at the same time and the same place, neither can the mantles of two Maidens exist in the same body."

"Not naturally, in any case," Professor Ozpin said darkly, but he refused to elaborate on exactly what he meant.

"It's not uncommon for the last thoughts of the slain to be of their attacker," General Ironwood said. "So killing a Maiden is an unfortunately reliable way of claiming their mantle, but it isn't foolproof."

"And if the person last in the Maiden's thoughts is someone ineligible?" Sunset asked. "Husband, brother, son, their aged spinster aunt … what then?"

"The power chooses," Professor Goodwitch said.

"So in the legends, when it says that God chose some girl from the back end of nowhere," Sunset said, "that was actually just chance?"

"It was better to come up with some explanation to stop people from working out the real rules too easily, don't you think?" Qrow said.

"Even though they are now in hiding," Professor Ozpin said, "the role of the Maidens remains crucial to the safety and wellbeing of Remnant and its kingdoms. Do you remember me telling you of the four relics left by the gods, which Salem is seeking?"

"Knowledge, Choice, Destruction, and Creation," Pyrrha said.

"Exactly, Miss Nikos," Professor Ozpin said. "Each relic belongs to one of the four kingdoms: Choice for Vale, Knowledge for Mistral, Creation for Atlas, and Destruction for Vacuo. Each relic is held in a specific location, a location that can only be opened by one of the four Maidens."

"Winter for Creation," Qrow said. "Spring for Knowledge, Summer for Destruction, and Fall for Choice."

Fall for Choice. Choice for Vale. Fall for Vale. Pyrrha stopped. "You mean … if I become the Fall Maiden … I won't ever be able to go home, will I?"

Professor Ozpin stopped too, and looked back at her with a solemn look. "The Maidens are needed not only to reach the relics, but also to protect them. Like defending humanity against the grimm, it is a watch that does not cease."

Pyrrha bowed her head. "I … I see." That's it then. No more white towers gleaming as they are struck by the first rays of dawn, no more river cascading down the mountainside to water the fields all around, no more standing on one of the upper levels and looking out at all the fertile land stretching out in all directions, no more climbing up from circle to circle getting higher and higher every time. No more Mistral. No more home.

"That … that doesn't seem…" Sunset trailed off for a moment. "Is it the location they're tied to, or the relic itself?"

"What's the difference?" asked Qrow.

"I mean, couldn't you swap the relics around so that Choice is in Mistral instead?"

"Sunset, it's alright," Pyrrha said softly.

"Is it?"

"Yes," Pyrrha lied. "After all, you left your home to pursue a higher calling; why shouldn't I do the same?"

"I left my home because I was a spoiled brat who hadn't heard the word 'no' nearly often enough," Sunset muttered. "But never mind that, I just … this isn't what I imagined."

It wasn't exactly what Pyrrha had imagined either, but there was nothing to be done about that and nothing for it. Destiny was calling to her, and if she refused the trumpets now, then they might never sound again. "I'm sorry, Professor," she said, as she started walking again. "Please go on."

Professor Ozpin nodded gravely. "The situation that we are in now is … rather unique," he said. "In fact, I daresay it is completely unprecedented."

"I don't understand," Pyrrha said.

"The Fall Maiden was attacked by an assailant who we now know to be Cinder Fall," Professor Ozpin said. "That is, sadly, far from unheard of, but what Miss Fall did is: she stole some of the Fall Maiden's power."

"'Some'?" Pyrrha said. "You mean that the magic we saw her carry out was just a part of what a Maiden is capable of?"

"Does that worry you?" Professor Goodwitch asked. "Because it certainly worries all of us."

"Does that mean the Fall Maiden is still alive?" Sunset asked. "Cinder stole some of her power, but she didn't kill her."

"No," Professor Ozpin said. "The Fall Maiden lives … for now."

"If you can really call it living," Qrow muttered.

"What do you—?" Pyrrha stopped with a gasp, because they had come to the end of the long transept now, and to the far wall that marked the end of the vault.

There, beneath a rose window — or at least something that looked like a rose window, even though there was nothing to see beyond it nor any light to be admitted through it — sat some kind of device, two metal and glass pods joined together by a mass of thick wires and cables, while monitors produced a plenitude of readouts.

Inside one of the pods, clearly visible through the large glass window that took up at least a third of the pod's front, was a girl. She was young, perhaps even younger than Pyrrha herself, with a dusky complexion and dark brown hair in a bob with a long fringe that completely hid her forehead and even her eyebrows from view.

Someone had undressed her and put her in what looked like hospital underclothes that exposed all but her most intimate parts to public view, so that just looking at her seemed almost indecent. Yet Pyrrha could not look away. She felt drawn to her, and not only because she was one of the only points of life and light in this dark place. She could not look away, nor could she stop. She walked slowly past Professor Ozpin and all the rest and towards this girl in the metal and glass pod. Her eyes were shut, and her heart-shaped face was ravaged by a mass of scars that criss-crossed across her visage as though Cinder had taken a butcher's knife — or one of those obsidian blades of hers — to carve her up in envy of her good looks.

Are these the actions of a Mistralian warrior, Cinder? Is this how my namesake would treat her enemies? Is this our Mistralian honour, is this how the best and the bravest conduct themselves?

Is this what lies behind your airs and manners?

I knew that you had ambushed her, but this … what purpose does such cruelty serve?

"This…" she murmured. "Is this…?"

"Amber," Professor Ozpin said. "The Fall Maiden."

Pyrrha felt, rather than saw, Sunset draw close behind her.

"Cinder did this to her?" Sunset said. She sounded as though she couldn't believe — or didn't want to believe — that Cinder would be capable of such a thing.

I quite understand. I would rather not believe it myself.

"It appears so," Professor Ozpin said. "The magic that she wielded could only have come from a single source."

"What did she do?" Sunset asked quietly, sounding rather reluctant as though she did not particularly wish to know the answer.

"We're not sure," Qrow admitted. "There wasn't time to … we don't know. But it's bad."

Pyrrha stared at her, at Amber, at the Fall Maiden they wanted her to… "Wait," Pyrrha said. "If Amber is still alive, then—"

"Because she's dying," General Ironwood said. "This is state of the art medical technology, and it's only buying us time."

"None of us knows exactly what will happen to the remainder of the Fall Maiden's power when Amber dies," Professor Goodwitch said, "but none of the options are good."

"The best case, she wasn't thinking of anyone eligible, and the power goes to someone random we have to try and find before Cinder catches up to them," Qrow said, "but the last thing Amber saw was Cinder sucking the power out of her, so how likely do you think it is that her attacker isn't the last thing on her mind?"

"That is, if the power doesn't simply seek to reunite itself in a single vessel as intended," Professor Ozpin said. "Which brings us back to Cinder once again."

"Two out of three chances this power ends up in the hands of one of Salem's pawns," Qrow said. "Not good. In fact, it's exactly the reason why the Maidens are kept secret in the first place."

"If they're so secret, then how did Cinder find her?" Sunset said.

"Amber was … is … young and inexperienced," Professor Ozpin said. "Mistakes were made, and a great price was paid for them."

Pyrrha frowned. "Professor … how is it that she … why isn't her aura regenerating, healing her injuries?"

"Amber's aura was … damaged in the attack," Professor Ozpin said.

"Aura is damaged in battle, Professor," Pyrrha said, "but it always restores itself with rest and—"

"Not in this case," Professor Ozpin told her. "Just as Amber's magic was split in two, so her aura has been torn asunder, ripped like a frayed tapestry, and like such a frayed tapestry, it is unravelling, unable to regenerate. Eventually, there will be nothing left. As General Ironwood said, we are buying time, nothing more."

"Could Jaune do something?" Pyrrha suggested. "His semblance—"

"Might strengthen what remains of Amber's aura, and perhaps buy her a little more time," Professor Ozpin conceded, "but Mister Arc's semblance does not have the power to undo the damage that has been done to Amber's aura, and so it will continue to degrade, no matter much it is enhanced by artificial means."

"I see," Pyrrha whispered, as she looked once more into Amber's stricken face, "but I still don't see. If everything that you'd told me is true, then how am I supposed to become your Fall Maiden?"

Neither Professor Ozpin, Professor Goodwitch, nor Qrow spoke. They all looked expectantly at General Ironwood, expecting him to speak. He did not speak either, at least not for a few moments. "In the last few years, Atlas has begun to research aura from a more scientific standpoint. We have made significant progress, including this device which we believe can be used to extract aura and insert it into something else … or someone."

"Sweet Celestia," Sunset whispered. "You … you…" She looked at Ozpin and his cohorts, her mouth moving silently. "You can't do this! You can't just rip a soul out of its body and cram it into a new one! It's wrong, it's immoral, it's … sacrilege. What happens to the person at the other end? What's going to happen to Pyrrha?"

"We don't know what will happen," General Ironwood said. "This will be the first time using this device in this way."

"Believe me, this is not a choice that I would make if I had any other choice," Professor Ozpin said. "As you've heard, Miss Nikos, we don't know what will happen to you. It may be that nothing will. But it is likely that there will be some effects from the joining of your life with that of Amber. You may be … changed, in some way. You may … you may no longer be yourself at all."

Pyrrha understood exactly what he meant. If I get into this machine, then Pyrrha may die, and Amber may walk away in my body. The thought made her shudder. She glanced at Amber and saw her own face reflected back at her in the glass, superimposed on Amber's own; she flinched away from it, clutching herself for comfort.

"You can't do this," Sunset growled. "You can't do this; I won't let you!"

"It's not your choice," Qrow said.

"Maybe I'm making it my choice!" Sunset yelled. "Sometimes, you get involved in things that aren't your business because it's the right thing, or to stop the wrong thing. This is immoral, and I won't allow it."

"Miss Shimmer—" Professor Ozpin began.

"I trusted you," Sunset snarled, which made Professor Ozpin flinch away as though he was physically hurt by her words.

"Sunset," Pyrrha said, her voice gentle, and soft, and small, but enough to rise above Sunset's anger nonetheless. "It's really very sweet of you, but I don't need you to defend me like this."

"The fact that you say that makes me think you do," Sunset muttered.

Pyrrha cast one last look at the dying Amber and gently raised her hand to place it on the glass and stroke it as if she could touch the face of the slumbering girl. She had a lovely face, for all her scars.

Either Amber would die, or she would, it seemed; or else, they would both die as the world knew or had known them, and what emerged would be some hybrid of the two, neither Pyrrha nor Amber, but an amalgam of their natures fused together.

"This is your choice, Miss Nikos," Professor Ozpin said. "No one can force you to do this. And no one will. You know what is at stake, and what is at risk, and you must decide what you will do next."

"And if she says no?" Sunset said. "What will you do then?"

"Then the power will fall into the hands of Cinder," Pyrrha murmured.

"Not necessarily," Professor Ozpin said. "If you do not wish to take this step, then I will have to find someone else."

But who, Professor? Who will you turn to if I … if I decline this great honour that you have deemed me worthy of? If I say no, if I refuse you, if I will not do it, if I would rather live as myself than become the Fall Maiden, what then? Who then?

Will it be Blake? Will Blake Belladonna be snuffed out ere she sets eyes on Atlas again, and all her promise with her? Her transfer papers rendered meaningless, all her hopes…

Will it be Rainbow Dash, climbing into this device because she has such faith in General Ironwood, and he would never lead her astray, so she will follow his orders, though they be the death of all she is?

Will it be someone else, someone who doesn't know all that we know? Will it be Yang? Will Ren and Nora be separated from another teammate? Yang is nearly as strong as I am, as brave as I am, more of a leader than I am, strong enough to take on the burden of the world, no matter the risk.

Or will it be Ruby? Will it be brave Ruby who would climb into this infernal machine without a second's hesitation because it is the right thing to do, because there is no sacrifice she would not make for the greater good, even the sacrifice of her very soul?

She had been blessed to know so many wonderful people since she came to Beacon. So many brave and talented people, so many kind people, so many strong people, so many people who were as fit as she to take up the mantle of a Maiden, who were as worthy of the honour as she, who were as…

Who were as little deserving to be damned as she, or less, far less deserving of oblivion.

Which means that I have little choice. As much as her dream of destiny had become something of a nightmare, that didn't give her the right to walk away when the right thing to do was to face it regardless, especially when the consequence was that this cup would pass to the lips of a friend, a comrade.

She could not let that happen. She could not condemn someone she knew, or even someone that she did not, even if Professor Ozpin were to turn to someone like Weiss Schnee or Lyra Heartstrings, then still, though Pyrrha had less affection for them, still it would not be right to condemn them simply because she was not willing to take the step herself.

That was not the action of a hero; rather, it was the shameful deed of a coward, and whatever else Pyrrha might be, she was not, she hoped, a coward.

This was her destiny. This was what she had dreamed of, sought after; this was the path that she had wished to walk, had set herself to walk: to protect the world, to guard it as its great defender, to be its hero.

She had not envisaged it happening in quite this way, but one could not anticipate the exact shape of one's final goal. Though it would cost her everything … it would cost her just as much to turn away now.

This is what I wanted; I cannot pass it on to someone else.

What gifts hath fate for all her chivalry? None but hearts heroic oftenest win.

Anguish, and an early grave, just as you said, Cinder.

Well, if that is my fate … better me than another.

"I'll do it," Pyrrha said, though her voice trembled even as she tried to make it ring out across the vault. "I'll become your Fall Maiden, or … or try to, at least."

What am I suited for, if not for this?

"Pyrrha," Sunset said. She grasped at Pyrrha's shoulders and stared pleadingly upwards into Pyrrha's eyes. "Don't do this. You heard what they said; you heard what this could do to you, and you heard them say that they can't make you do this."

"But someone must," Pyrrha said. "Or else Cinder … or else Salem will have one of the four Maidens, she'll be able to get one of the four Relics; we can't just let that happen, I can't just let that happen. This … this must be done, and since it must be done, then … then better done by me than by … someone else." She looked Professor Ozpin square in the face. "I'll do it."

Professor Ozpin did not meet her eyes. Perhaps he could bring himself to do so. "I am in awe of your courage, Miss Nikos, but there is no need to act quite so rashly. Although time is short, there is enough for you to take some time to think on this matter carefully. Take that time, take a few days, until the end of the week. Then, I am afraid, I will need your answer."

XxXxX
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Author's Note: The artwork is by Jindianjun000

 

[RedWolff]

The Girl in the Glass Coffin​

XxXxX
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Author's Note: The artwork is by Jindianjun000

Click to shrink...

Most of the chapter remains unchanged but the real surprise treat was the artwork that is added with this chapter. It's a wonderful scene pic and I really liked the close friendship being portrayed in the scene. My complements to the artist and to your story-writing that help set up the scene @ScipioSmith

 

[ScipioSmith]

Not Even For the World​

"You can't do this!" Sunset snapped, in a voice that was taut and whiplike.

"I have no choice," Pyrrha said, her own voice soft, barely rising above the level of a whisper.

The two of them were in the garage with the door shut; it was one of the few places they could speak — or yell, in Sunset's case — without being overheard by anyone. It wouldn't do to go on the rooftop and let Weiss and her team hear what they were discussing now. This was supposed to be secret after all, no matter how much Sunset might be shouting.

"Stop saying that you have no choice; you do have a choice!" Sunset yelled. "You can tell them to go take a flying leap off a cloud, and you should."

"And then what?" Pyrrha asked. She wasn't looking at Sunset. She was sat near the closed door, knees tucked up almost beneath her chin, while Sunset paced up and down behind her. Pyrrha turned her head slightly, but not enough to see Sunset. "Yes, I can say no, but what then? What right do I have to let this cup pass from my lips only so that it can be drunk by someone else? By … Blake, Rainbow Dash, Yang, Ruby perhaps? What right do I have to tell Ruby that she has to sacrifice herself because I have not the courage?"

Sunset was silent for a moment. "They could all say no too," she said. Pyrrha wondered if that sounded as pathetic to Sunset as it did to her.

"But they won't," Pyrrha replied. A sad smile briefly crossed her face. "You know that they will not. Ruby, for one, certainly will not. She is too brave, too—"

"Foolish."

"Selfless," Pyrrha corrected. "It is not folly but selflessness that would drive her to this, and Blake besides, maybe, and…" She closed her eyes. "And that is why I must do this. I have no right to force this burden onto another. I can't — I won't — make a friend do something that I was not willing to do myself." She hugged her legs, embracing them with both her arms. "This burden has been appointed to me. I must bear it to whatever end."

"'To whatever end,'" Sunset spat, as though the words were offensive to her. "To the end of your death? We're talking about your aura, your soul."

"I'm aware of that."

"Then how can you act like this?" Sunset demanded. "How can you just sit there and consider this? No, more than consider; you've already made up your mind! And don't talk about Ruby, because if Ruby were here, then I'd tell her exactly what I'm about to tell you now: this is monstrous, and even considering it is … it's unforgivable. Heinous. They say that they don't know what's going to happen, but I know. You can't just rip the essence out of somebody and cram it into somebody else and expect there to be no change at all. Pyrrha, this…" Her voice shook and threatened to break completely. "This thing is going to kill you in every way that matters. If you get into that machine, then … then somebody else is going to walk away. Maybe Amber, maybe something new, but not you. You're not going to become the Fall Maiden, you're going to give up your body as a suit for the new Fall Maiden to wear; is that what you want?"

"Of course not!" Pyrrha shrieked, and her semblance exploded out of her to send Sunset's bike flying across the garage to hit the far with a slamming thump.

"I'm sorry," Pyrrha whispered.

"Don't be," Sunset said. "It's just a stupid bike."

Pyrrha let out a ragged breath. She felt something wet on her cheeks and realised that she was crying. "What I want," she whispered, halfway to sobbing. "No, no, this isn't what I want at all."

I want Jaune. I want him to hold me and kiss me and love me. I want him to ask me for my hand. I want Ruby and Sunset to weave the flowers into my hair upon my wedding day. I want to have children, and to watch them grow and teach them to be brave and strong and kind like their parents.

I want to live. I want to laugh, I want to cry, I want to feel.

I want to live and love to be loved.

But why should fate, or the world, or even Professor Ozpin care for what I want when kingdoms are at stake?

"Sunset?" she asked in a small voice.

"Yes?"

"Do you think he'll be able to tell?" Pyrrha asked.

On the one hand, it was a small thing, almost pathetically so, to focus on, but at the same time, it seemed at this moment, staring oblivion in the face, to be the most important thing that she could ask.

Sunset was quiet as she walked around from behind Pyrrha to stand in front of her. She crouched down so that they were face to face. "Do I think who will be able to tell what?"

"Jaune," Pyrrha said. "If I … if you're right about this, and I … if it's not me anymore … do you think he'll be able to tell? Will he notice that I'm gone and … and something else is standing in front of him?"

Whoever took Pyrrha's place, if that was what happened — be it Amber or a new … someone entirely new, not either of them — they might find it convenient to pretend to be Pyrrha in the eyes of the world.

The thought of someone else wearing her body was bad enough, but to imagine them doing it while Jaune, none the wiser, held this impostor in his arms and left her breathless with his kisses and maybe even … it was too much for her. She could not bear it. She could give up her life for the sake of the world, but the world's cause could not ask her to surrender her love to another who happened to look like her.

Sunset looked sick, but then she'd looked like that ever since they got out of the vault. "He'll know," she said, her voice hoarse.

"How?" Pyrrha asked.

"I don't know, by looking into your eyes!" Sunset snapped. "By the lack of a spark when he touches your hand. Isn't that how true love is supposed to work? Isn't there supposed to be a thing so you can tell?"

Pyrrha bowed her head. "I think that's just a romantic myth."

"Oh," Sunset said. "He'll know."

"You don't know that, do you?" Pyrrha said. "You're just saying it to make me feel better."

"I've got no interest in making you feel better, only in making you realise what a stupid idea this is," Sunset growled. "I'm telling you because it's true. He'll know."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because he loves you for you!" Sunset snapped. "Do you honestly think he's so shallow that it's your face and your body that are the only thing he notices about you? He'll know because you won't be the person that he fell in love with anymore. You won't be the person that we all love anymore. Please, Pyrrha, don't do this."

"I have—"

"Don't sit there and tell me that you have no choice when we both know that's a load of crap!" Sunset yelled. "You don't have to do this—"

"But someone does," Pyrrha insisted.

"Do they?" Sunset said, getting up and stalking to the garage door.

"Yes," Pyrrha said. "You know that. Cinder cannot be allowed to assume the whole and entire power of the Fall Maiden, Salem cannot be allowed to have unfettered access to one of the four Relics; Professor Ozpin won't allow that to happen, someone will have to take up this great charge, and I … I have been chosen for it. Professor Ozpin chose me, asked me, first of all; why should he do that, if not because I am the most suited, the best to bear this burden? And, that being so, how can I pass this poisoned mantle on to another?

"The world is in danger, Sunset, and it needs me."

"Screw the world, and screw the Relic, too!" Sunset shouted.

Pyrrha shook her head. "You don't mean that," she whispered. "I hope that you don't mean that."

Sunset turned to face her. "You mean more to me than they do. I make no apologies for that."

Pyrrha got to her feet. "If I mean so much to you, then please, don't make this harder for me than it already is."

Sunset stared at her, her mouth twisting into a kind of snarl with the teeth bared. "Why do you have to be so stupidly noble all the time?"

"Because ten thousand fates of death surround us—"

"Don't quote poetry at me; answer me in your own words!"

"Very well, my life is put at risk by my chosen vocation, so what makes this manner of passing so special that you should recoil from it and I should do likewise?" Pyrrha demanded. "I chose to become a huntress that I might serve the world and those who live in it, as a protector, as a guardian, as a shepherd of the people. This … this is not how I expected to fulfil my destiny, but it is my destiny nonetheless."

"Death is not your destiny."

"It appears that isn't true," Pyrrha said quietly. "As much as I might wish otherwise."

"You told me that your destiny was in your gift," Sunset said. "Your choice."

"And I choose this," Pyrrha insisted. "I choose not to pass this choice onto another! I choose to stand between the world and its enemies. I choose to answer the call. I choose to take up the burden. I choose … I choose to do something that is more important than anything else I could ever do, though I live for a hundred years from hence. We are huntsmen and huntresses, we are all called upon to risk our lives in battle; if I say no, if I turn away from the battle now, when it is at its gravest, how could I look any of my fellow students in the eye ever again?"

"Nobody would know," Sunset said.

"I would know!" Pyrrha cried. "And I would be shamed before myself for shrinking from the fighting." She turned away, embracing herself. "You say … you say that whatever comes out of that machine will not be me … but if I did not climb into it in the first place, I would not be myself either."

"Is there nothing I can say?" Sunset asked, her voice hollow. "Nothing at all that will convince you?"

"You cannot tell me anything that I don't already know," Pyrrha whispered. "I know what I'm being asked to do, I know that it will cost me … everything. But I also know that … that I'm the only one who ought to do this."

Sunset made a grunting, moaning sound as though she were in physical pain. "Why … why do you have to be like this? What are you going to tell Jaune?"

"I … I don't know," Pyrrha confessed. "I'm not sure if I can tell him."

"You have to tell him something," Sunset said.

"What?" Pyrrha asked, as she rounded on Sunset. "What am I supposed to tell him?"

"The truth?"

"He won't understand any more than you do."

"Perhaps that makes him smarter than you."

"Sunset, will you please stop!" Pyrrha shrieked. "Do you think that this is easy for me? Do you think that this is anything like how I thought my life would … this isn't how things were supposed to go. Not at all. I was supposed to achieve my destiny upon my own merits, with the support of my friends, but this … this is where my road has led, and I have to see it through, all the way to the end."

Sunset stared at her. "Please … please tell me that this isn't about your confidence, because I thought that you—"

"This is not about my confidence," Pyrrha insisted. "It's not about Cinder, or Salem, or magic or anything else, this isn't some desperate attempt on my part to matter in a world that is grown too big for me, this … this is important. This is something that I choose to do because it is the right thing to do, because it is required of me, because I will not step back and let another take the blow in my stead."

Sunset's eyes were wide, large; she had large eyes, but now, they seemed particularly large. "Is there … nothing that I might say that will convince you otherwise?"

"No," Pyrrha whispered. "Sunset … this time that we've spent together—"

"Don't talk like that already; you don't—"

"Has been the most wonderful time in my life," Pyrrha finished. "I'm so, so glad to have met all of you. More than I think I could ever tell you."

"Stop."

"I need you to hear this."

"Well, I don't want to hear it! Why should I stand here and listen to you get your dying speech off your chest when all you have to do is choose to live?"

"Sunset—"

"No, don't 'Sunset' me in that tone of reproach; you don't seem to realise what you're asking me to do!" Sunset shouted. "You're asking me to watch you die! How do you expect me to feel about that? Do you have any idea how much I want to scream at you right now? Do you know how much I want to shake you and remind you of all the wonderful things that you're about to give up for nothing? There are a million reasons not to go through with this, and not one good reason to do it so…" Sunset let out a wordless scream of anguish. "I … I can't do this."

"Do what?"

"I can't stand here and talk about this anymore!" Sunset yelled. "I can't even look at you right now, I'm just so … goodbye."

Sunset was engulfed in a flash of green light, disappearing from the garage with a distinctive popping sound.

Pyrrha bowed her head. "I … I'm sorry, Sunset. I really am."

Of course, in one thing, Sunset was quite correct: she ought to tell Jaune. In fact, Pyrrha would go so far as to say that she had an obligation to tell Jaune. To not tell him, to say nothing, to climb into that glass coffin, to embrace whatever fate awaited her, it … it would be too cruel. Worse than cruel, perhaps.

He could not change her mind. She … not hoped, perhaps — that was entirely the wrong word — rather, she … she did not know the right word; she feared that if he asked her not to do this, then she could not resist him. Her heart would not stand up to it, her resolve would not stand up to it; in the face of his entreaties, she might crumble.

She did not want that. She … she wished, yes, that was the right word, she wished to be strong enough to stand up to it, to do what was right regardless. She did not wish love to make her a coward.

Though to be brave would mean the death of love and all her dreams besides.

This is not what I want, but nevertheless, it is what I must do.

Perhaps … perhaps Jaune will understand that. Perhaps he will see what Sunset cannot.

Although I do not think it likely.

He had understood her desire to confront Cinder, despite the risk, but this … Sunset had also managed to respect her choice to confront Cinder, despite the risk, but this had broken Sunset's resolve, so why should this be different for Jaune?

He would not like this.

And yet she owed him some explanation, not merely for the promises that she had made to him but also … also for mere common decency's sake.

And for the sake of herself, it must be admitted; she did not want him, in ignorance, to carry on a relationship with whatever might be inhabiting her body when this was done.

Perhaps that was unworthy of her; perhaps she ought to trust him more, but … was she not entitled to her fear, without judgement of it or judgement of what it meant she judged of Jaune? She was giving up her soul for the greater good; she was allowed, she thought, to be a little concerned with what would be done with her body.

In any case, she owed Jaune an explanation.

She owed Jaune something.

She got out her scroll, fishing it out of a pouch on her belt, and texted Jaune, asking him to meet her … not here, not in this garage. She had spent too long here already, arguing with Sunset; the sight of it was becoming as hateful to her as the sight of Pyrrha had become for Sunset at the end. She wanted to get out of here, she wanted to leave this place, she wanted some fresh air, and so she texted Jaune to meet her at the cliffs, where there would be no one around to overhear them.

The message sent, she left the garage, escaping out of the dark and enclosed space and out into the sunlight.

The air was crisp, fall had fallen upon them now in truth, but there were few clouds in the sky, it was blue and clear, and it was only Atlesian warships that blocked the blue, and then only for mere moments ere they flew onwards.

The leaves had turned golden, falling from the trees, drifting lazily down in Pyrrha's path as she walked down the paved ways, away from the Emerald Tower, away from the buildings, away from all of it; her boots occasionally stepping upon a leaf, and then upon the grass as she walked across the still-verdant green towards the cliff edge.

There was little air, no breeze to tug at her long ponytail, or at her crimson sash, which both hung limp behind her or at her side.

She stood upon the cliffs, taking what might be one of her last sights across this vast vista, at the Emerald Forest spread out beneath her and the mountains far off in the distance.

Would I were in Mistral, that my last sight could be the sight of home, the view from the walls, from the high slopes, the hills and vales spread out before me.

Or perhaps I should like to go out onto the hills, and visit Chiron in his cottage, and talk to Chariclo, and then look out one last time at Mistral rising up before me, and the White Tower rising above all the rest.

I want … I want so much more than this.

She blinked rapidly, her eyes stinging.

She found that she was crying.

Pyrrha wiped at her eyes with one gloved thumb, the tears fell regardless, though she wiped them away more took their place.

"Pyrrha?"

Pyrrha gasped, half turning around, twisting her waist to see Jaune standing behind her, a few feet away, watching her.

He smiled, but there was something uncertain about his smile, as though he could already tell that something was amiss.

"I got your text," he said, holding up his scroll. "I thought that you and Sunset were still with Professor Ozpin, since neither of you came back. I left Penny with Ruby; she's showing her one of those games that your Mistralian friend got her into." He took another step closer, his brow furrowing, his eyes narrowing. "Pyrrha … are you crying?"

Pyrrha turned away from him, not answering.

She felt Jaune behind her, pressing himself against her, putting his arms around her waist, drawing her into his embrace. "Hey," he said gently. "What's wrong?"

"How—?"

"The tears kind of give it away," Jaune told her. "How can I help?"

Pyrrha closed her eyes, resting her hands upon his arms as they enfolded her. "You are helping," she whispered. "You've already helped me so much." She smiled. "You have made me so happy. Thank you, Jaune."

"Pyrrha," Jaune said. "Did something happen with Professor Ozpin? Is that … what's going on?"

Pyrrha was silent a moment, eyes closed, a smile upon her face. She opened her eyes, looking down at Jaune's arms, at his hands upon her stomach, at her hands resting on his.

She turned her head towards him, but … but she could hardly bring herself to look at him; she kept her eyes instead upon his hands, even as their cheeks were practically touching. "I wish … I wish that we could stay like this forever."

"Okay, now you're really starting to freak me out," Jaune declared. "Pyrrha, what happened up there? What is all this?"

Pyrrha hesitated just a moment longer. She might not be able to stay like this forever, but she could at least stay like this for just a couple of seconds more.

But then those seconds passed, and she gently peeled Jaune's arms away from her, and he retreated a step so that she could turn around and face him, looking upwards slightly into his eyes.

"I … there's something that I have to do," she said. "I don't want to, but I must."

"What is it?" Jaune asked. "Why do you have to do it if you don't want to?"

"Cinder … is not the Fall Maiden," Pyrrha said. "At least, not completely. She attacked the Fall Maiden, stole some of her power, but she didn't kill her. The Fall Maiden is … still alive, barely. But she's dying. Professor Ozpin … he wants me to take the rest of the Fall Maiden's power, to keep it safe."

Jaune stared at her, incomprehension in his eyes. "I … take the power how?"

"There is a machine," Pyrrha said softly, a little slowly, picking her words as though she were picking her way through a cavern that might collapse on her at any moment. "An Atlesian device. They mean to use it to extract Amber's aura — Amber is the Fall Maiden — and … give it to me, and her magic along with it."

"Give you her aura," Jaune murmured. "You mean like my semblance?"

"No, your semblance stimulates my aura, or the aura of whoever you use it on, strengthening it, but it's still my aura ultimately," Pyrrha replied. "This will…" She sought for a word that sounded less sinister than 'insert.' "This will place Amber's aura inside me."

Jaune's mouth opened, and hung that way a second before he said, "That doesn't … what does that mean, what will that do?"

"No one knows," Pyrrha admitted. "But I asked you to meet me here because … because there's a chance that … that after it's done, I … I won't be myself anymore."

"Not … then … who—?"

"They aren't sure," Pyrrha said. "Maybe I'll be … maybe Amber, maybe someone new, a mix of both of us. Maybe I'll still be me, and this is all overblown, but I had to tell you because—"

"Don't," Jaune said, cutting her off. "Don't do this; it's too dangerous."

"Much that we do is dangerous."

"I know, but this? You can't fight back against this; this is … this is something you'll be letting happen."

"Yes," Pyrrha whispered. "Yes, I will—"

"But why? You shouldn't!"

"You sound like Sunset."

"Sunset sounds right," Jaune replied. "Why—?"

"Because if I refuse, then Professor Ozpin will turn to someone else," Pyrrha said. "Why should I allow someone to take my place?"

"It's not your place, it's not anyone's place, it's…" Jaune trailed off for a moment. "Ozpin doesn't have the right to ask anyone to do this, but just because he'll ask someone doesn't mean you have to say yes when he asks you! Pyrrha, I … I don't want to lose you."

Pyrrha closed her eyes once again, screwing them tight shut, so tight that no light came in through them. "I don't want to lose you either," she whispered. "I love you."

"I love you too," Jaune said, his voice hoarse with phlegm as he embraced her once more, holding her tight, pressing her against his chest as if by holding, he could physically keep her away from Amber and the machine down in the vault. "That's why I'm asking you, please don't do this."

Pyrrha did not respond. She wanted to look away, but she could not tear her eyes away from him. This was what she had been afraid of, that he would ask her to turn away, and she … she would…

It was hard. Harder than it was to refuse Sunset, much harder. The way that he was looking at her, the way that he was holding her, she wanted to say that no, she would not do it, she wanted to say that, for him, she would refuse Professor Ozpin, she wanted, and yet, she did not want to yield to him.

She wanted to be with him, and yet, if she turned aside from this for his sake, then she would be unworthy of him, would she not? She would be a coward, contemptible, despicable.

She would be worthy of nothing but scorn and the hatred of all those who suffered because she had forced this burden on another.

"I … if I don't, would I still be the girl you love?" she asked him softly, so softly.

"Yes," Jaune replied emphatically. "Of course you would; who else would you be?"

"Weak?" Pyrrha suggested. "Afraid? How can I refuse this simply because I don't like the consequences?"

Jaune stared at her, silently. With one hand, reached up and stroked her face. Pyrrha closed her eyes, leaning into the palm of his hand as he cupped her cheek.

"You're so … so brave," he whispered. "You're too brave, much too brave."

Pyrrha turned her head slightly and kissed the palm of his hand, or at least the glove that covered it.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"I know," Jaune replied. "When?"

"I don't know," Pyrrha said. "Professor Ozpin gave me until the end of the week to make my decision, but—"

"Good," Jaune said, embracing her with both arms once again. "That's good, because … because that gives me time. Time to hold you close, and hope to everything that's good you change your mind. And do everything I can to make sure you do."

"And … and if I don't?"

Pyrrha felt Jaune's hold upon her tighten a little.

"Then … then I'll just have to hold on to you and not let you go," Jaune said. "I won't let you go, Pyrrha.

"I can't let you go."

XxXxX​

Sunset teleported into the SAPR dorm room.

She hadn't gone there straight away. No, after leaving the garage, she had teleported onto a secluded patch of the grounds and then proceeded to make her way down into the Emerald Forest and spent at least half an hour tearing up the place, blasting trees apart and ripping up the shrubbery with telekinesis. She was surprised that with all the negativity she was feeling — and she was feeling a lot of negativity; rage was roiling and broiling with her chest — she only attracted a few young beowolves towards her. Or perhaps more of them, and bigger and older and stronger ones at that, would have found her if she'd stuck around longer, yelling and screaming as she used up her magic.

She had used the last of it to teleport herself back to the dorm room before that actually happened, and now, she felt exhausted. Her limbs trembled, her body was stained with sweat, and she was breathing heavily.

What she didn't feel was any better. None of the release of her magic had actually released her emotions, because the source of those emotions had not been affected one bit by her little tantrum in the forest.

"Sunset?"

Sunset looked down. Ruby and Penny were sitting on the floor, both of them looking up at her.

It was Penny who had spoken, and now, she leapt up to her feet. "You're back!" she cried. "How did it go? Pyrrha asked Jaune to go and meet her alone, which sounds romantic, don't you think? Are you allowed to say what—?"

Sunset raised one hand. She placed the other upon her forehead. She could feel her heart beating furiously in her chest, even as that same chest rose and fell with her breathing. Her ears were drooped down into her mane.

"Yes," she murmured. "Yes, I am back, Penny, I … would you both do me a favour and clear the room? I need to be alone."

"'Alone'?" Ruby asked. "Why?"

"Just get out!" Sunset snapped. She closed her eyes, pressing the back of her hand more firmly against her forehead. "I'm sorry," she muttered. "I … I'm sorry. I just … I need some privacy."

"Is there anything we can do to help?" asked Penny.

"Please just go," Sunset begged. "Please, I'm sorry, but … please."

They were both staring at her, eyes wide and mouths slightly open. Of course they were; they had no idea what was going on. They must think she was being rude and strange in equal measure, kicking Ruby out of her own dorm room, kicking Penny out. A fine welcome to Beacon.

But she couldn't … she needed to be alone right now.

Alone with her thoughts, alone to hear herself think.

She hardly looked at either Penny or Ruby as they left, didn't turn around as they scuttled off behind her, didn't move as she heard the door close after them.

She just stood there, in the middle of the room, sweaty, gasping for breath, trembling, almost out of magic, her head pounding. Pounding with thoughts that she hated, with problems that she could not resolve.

She felt no better than when she had left Pyrrha's company; in fact, she arguably felt a good deal worse.

Pyrrha was still going to go through with it. Pyrrha was going to go through with it, and Pyrrha was going to die, and Sunset knew that, even if she couldn't exactly prove it. Nothing good could come from meddling in souls. Pyrrha would get into the machine, and somebody else would get out. Pyrrha Nikos, the soul of SAPR, would be gone.

Pyrrha gone. Pyrrha no more. The thought of it was enough to bring tears pricking the corner of Sunset's eyes, not to mention sending a surge of rage spiking through her body. She was angry at Ozpin for asking Pyrrha to do this, angry at Pyrrha for being so noble as to actually go through with it, angry at Cinder for causing all of this to come to pass.

Angry at herself for a whole host of reasons: for having been stupid enough to trust Ozpin — and the fact that she could tell that he didn't want to do this in no way diminished her rage at him for doing it anyway; if you don't want to do something then don't do it! — for having failed to see that Cinder was capable of such things as she had done to Amber, or seeing but choosing not to care; for having failed to convince Pyrrha not to go through with this; for not being able to do anything to stop the horror that she could see unfolding before her eyes.

She didn't know what she was supposed to do now. She couldn't do anything, in any sense. She couldn't stand by and watch Pyrrha do this to herself, but she couldn't do anything to stop it either. She considered enlisting Blake's help to sneak down into the Vault and use the machine on herself before Pyrrha could do it, but … even if Blake could work out how to use the machine … and it would be pretty cruel of Sunset to ask Blake to be the instrument of her spiritual demise … they'd already established that Sunset or someone derived from her nature probably wasn't the best person in Remnant to have Maiden powers.

Sunset had no idea what to do. She had little idea what she ought to be thinking — in the whirl of thoughts that swirling around her mind, she was even starting to consider that Pyrrha might be right and that it was wrong of her to prioritise Pyrrha's life above all others or the survival of Vale — or whether she ought to be feeling this amorphous anger that was directed at everyone including herself and not helping her at all in the process.

She had no idea what to do … but she did know who she could talk to about it. Someone wise and kind and caring. Someone who had seen much and endured much.

Sunset's hands trembled as she pulled the magical journal out from underneath her bed. If Celestia told her that what Professor Ozpin was doing was just and necessary, then Sunset wouldn't say another word against it, no matter what she felt within, but if Celestia told her that she was right to feel as incensed as she did, well then … then Sunset would do whatever it took.

For her friend, she could do nothing else.

Subconsciously, she might have known that she needed this even before she realised it; that was why she had sent Ruby and Penny away out of the room.

She needed privacy now, privacy and her princess.

She put the book down on the desk and opened it up to the next free page. Picking up her pen, she began to write.

Twilight, are you there?

Please be there. Please answer. Please don't be away on urgent business. Please don't be in a position where you can't answer. Please, I need this right away.

She let out a sigh of relief as she saw the words in Twilight's cursive writing begin to spread across the page.

I'm right here, Sunset. Do you need something?

Yes, I need to talk to Princess Celestia right away. It's urgent. Life and death urgent. Please, can you send for her?

Life and death? Sunset, are you in some kind of trouble?

I don't have time to explain it to you first. I need to speak to Princess Celestia about this. She's the only one who can help me right now. Please, Twilight, I need her, and I need her now.

There was a pause, and Sunset could picture Twilight on the other end of the journal, staring with bafflement at the words that Sunset had so hastily scrawled on the page. Perhaps they were a little exaggerated, but they matched her mood. Even if she had time to wait, it certainly didn't feel that way, and she had no desire to linger in this state of distraught confusion, not knowing where to turn and staring down the loss of a friend in the process. She needed guidance. She needed the wisdom that only Princess Celestia could give her.

Okay. I'll send her a message via Spike. She shouldn't be long.

Sunset nodded, for all that she was invisible to Twilight. Thank you, Twilight. I really mean that.

Twilight didn't answer. There was no answer for a little while, until a familiar elegant script began to unfurl itself like a standard across the page.

Sunset? Are you there?

Even in the midst of these dire circumstances, Sunset could not prevent herself from smiling at the sight of Celestia's words, words which she could hear as in her old teacher's voice. I'm right here, Princess. Thank you for coming.

How could I not? Twilight said that it was urgent, that you required my council desperately. She spoke of life and death. Little sunbeam, what is the matter?

Sunset sighed. She clenched her free hand. She shut her eyes for a moment as she wondered how she could explain everything that she had just found out and everything that she was thinking and feeling and wondering.

How could she make Celestia understand?

Princess Celestia, if the world was in dire peril and the only way to save it was to sacrifice Twilight, would you do it?

There was a pause on the other end of the book, and Sunset could only imagine the horror that Celestia was feeling to read those words.

Sunset, what sort of a question is that to ask of me?

An awful one, I know, but one that I need the answer to. Would you do it? Could you sacrifice Twilight to save the world?

No. The answer came swiftly, that single word of it at least, written sharply as though she were stabbing the page with her quill. The rest of the answer came after a short delay, unfolding at a slower pace. No, I would not do it. I could not. Not even for the world.

Because you love her too much.

I am not sure that it is possible to love too much, if one has chosen to love freely and without malicious interference.

Does it not make us too weak to do what must be done?

And what must be done, Sunset? And why do we do anything, except because we love? What do we protect but that which we hold dear? If we love nothing, then why should we do anything? Love is not our weakness, though it may not always be wise, yet it remains our greatest strength. Now, please tell me, Sunset, why would you ask me such a question as this?

Sunset shivered as she put pen to paper. Because my friend is in a lot of trouble, and it's not just that I don't know how to save her, it's that she's got me asking if I should even try to save her or if I shouldn't just let her go like she seems to want because she's got more nobility than sense, and that's always been her problem, and that's why we all love her so much.

I see. Or at least, I begin to see. Perhaps you had better explain a little more. Is your world in peril?

They think it is. Professor Ozpin and Pyrrha and the rest. There's a procedure; they want to make an alicorn; not exactly, but that's the best way that I can think to explain it to you without going into all the details; they want to make an alicorn to guard an important magical object and keep great power out of the hands of evil. But it's going to kill Pyrrha to do it. They want to take the soul from a dying girl and give it to Pyrrha, and I'm absolutely certain that what comes out the other side won't be Pyrrha anymore.

I fear that you are all too correct, Sunset. Meddling in the soul in such a way, it is impossible for me to conceive that Pyrrha's soul will not be transformed, maybe even beyond all recognition.

That was what she had been afraid of. What am I supposed to do, Princess? Pyrrha wants to do this, even knowing what it will cost her, and I don't know what to do. Am I supposed to just let this happen because it's what she wants? Would you let Twilight go through with something like that if it was what she wanted?

I would do all I could to prevent it. I could not bring myself to do such a thing nor to countenance it as an observer, however passive my role might be.

Not even for the world?

Not even for the world.

Then what would you do, the world being in peril?

I would trust in Twilight to find another way. A way for good to win out without her sacrifice, or any other.

Sunset leaned back in her chair. She could feel the fog lifting from her mind. Her path felt clearer now. Another way. Another way. There was one obvious other way, and that was to save Amber so that she could go on being the Fall Maiden; that still left the fact that somebody was going to have to kill Cinder, but for now, if Sunset could save Pyrrha without having to put anyone else in the Atlesian machine in her place, then she'd be well pleased with herself and consider it a good day's work. Save Amber. But how?

And then, like sunlight breaking through the clouds, it came to her. Yes, that particular combination of spells, plus Jaune's semblance and her own, and with enough scientific knowhow to keep her stable while all of this was going on … yes, that might just work. In any case, it was surely worth the attempt. It would save Pyrrha, and Amber too; surely, that was worth trying?

If only she could persuade Professor Ozpin to see it that way.

If only someone could persuade Professor Ozpin to see it that way.

Sunset began to scribble on the page again. Princess Celestia, I think I have an idea. But I might need your help to persuade Professor Ozpin to let me do it.

I would do anything to help you, Sunset, but in this case, I don't quite understand.

With your permission, I'd like to introduce the two of you.

XxXxX​

Author's Note: The artwork for this chapter was by McMystery

 

[ScipioSmith]

All My Gallant Stars​

Ozpin had returned to his office after leaving the vault, and now he sat, alone in that sparse and empty space, brooding upon his deeds as the gears of the clock ground inevitably overhead.

He could not say that he did not deserve the anger that had been vented upon him. He couldn't say that he had not deserved the fear in Miss Nikos' eyes, or the hurt and betrayal in the eyes of Miss Shimmer.

He deserved it all, and far worse besides. That Miss Nikos was willing to go along with the procedure, even knowing everything that she knew about the risks … it both gladdened his heart and saddened him in equal measure. It gladdened him, because the fact that she was willing to stand up, back straight, and do this thing that was so very dangerous, and so monstrous even in its conception was proof in his eyes that she was worthy to be the next Fall Maiden. It brought him some small measure of comfort to know that the next soul to bear the mantle would be composed in some part of Pyrrha Nikos and all her splendid virtues.

It saddened him because in doing this, he was condemning the font of those same virtues; it saddened him because the thing that might have stopped all this and saved her was Pyrrha's refusal to go along with it, and that refusal, she would not give, no matter how much he urged her to think carefully, to take time, to consider before she answered. Her answer would be the same at the week's end as it was now. Because she was a good girl, a sacrificing girl, the kind of girl who would have been a splendid Maiden … because of that, she would give up her life so that another being could bear that honour.

There was no proof that that was going to happen, it might yet be that Pyrrha Nikos would emerge intact and fully herself … but Ozpin doubted it. He would have to be a man of great optimism to believe that all would proceed for the best … and it had been a long time since he had last had that much hope.

It had been a long time since he had any hope at all. He sat in his tower while the waves rose up and battered the walls of Vale, recruiting children to be his weapons and sending them out to fight and die, and the best he had ever hoped for was to hold the levees, keep things in stasis, perhaps see the gradual improvements in the world that his predecessors had set in motion through their work on faunus rights, but even that yielded only the expectation of minute changes for the better.

And in the meantime, he bought time and paid for it with the blood of so many worthy young men and women, children whom he watched train and learn, live and in some cases love, grow into themselves within the walls of Beacon. He watched them become the best versions of themselves with the support of the faculty and of one another, and then when the best of them were at their best, he brought them into his circle, made them his agents, and sent them out to risk their lives against the power of Salem.

He could not escape the feeling that he had become over these long ages the kind of man whom Ozma, that great hero, that warrior mage, that shining paragon of all things good, would have held in contempt.

But he had not been Ozma for a very long time. The Ozmas of this age were the children he sent to their deaths.

His fingers moved almost independently of his dark thoughts, bringing up Miss Nikos' permanent record. Her picture, occupying the entire upper left hand quarter of the screen, stared out at him, her green eyes vivid and a faint smile upon her face. Around the image were the functional details of her time both at Beacon and at Sanctum before that: excellent grades, nothing but praise from all of her teachers, especially her sparring instructors, only a single incident of rule-breaking, and that being the battle at the docks against the White Fang and Roman Torchwick, which hardly seemed like something to hold against her.

There had also been the foodfight of course, but he had made sure that didn't make its way onto any of the records of the students involved.

They had expected her to choose Haven, if she chose at all; she didn't have to attend any of the four academies; to be honest, her skill was probably already on a higher level than the average qualified huntress, and she didn't need to graduate to continue on the tournament circuit either. But, if she had decided to go and attend one of the four academies, they had expected — the whole world had expected — her to choose Haven.

She was the champion of Mistral, after all: the Princess Without a Crown, the pride and glory of Mistral reborn.

But she had chosen Beacon. That had been the first surprise. The second had come during the personal interviews that he conducted with every student before offering them a place. He had thought that a young woman of Miss Nikos' skill at arms might be useful to him, but it wasn't until she sat down in front of him in his office that he had begun to see her as the next Fall Maiden in waiting.

"As honoured as I am that so illustrious a fighter as yourself wishes to attend my institution," Ozpin began as he poured out a cup of cocoa.

"Please, Professor," Miss Nikos interrupted him. "A man of your stature and reputation has no need to be honoured by me, and no need to flatter me by pretending otherwise."

Ozpin sat down, and his eyebrows rose. "No, Miss Nikos?"

"You are Professor Ozpin," Miss Nikos said. "You saved Vale from the grimm, you were the youngest headmaster ever appointed to a school, you've done such incredible things for humanity. All I've done is win a few tournaments and get good grades in my combat school. Someone like you could never be honoured by someone like me, and to be honest, I would much rather you didn't pretend that it was any other way."

Ozpin leaned back in his chair. "You don't expect any special treatment on account of your celebrity status?"

"I don't want any special treatment," Pyrrha replied, with a certain emphasis upon the word 'want.' "I just want to be treated like any other student."

"Even though you are not any other student?" Ozpin asked. He picked up his mug and took a sip of the scalding hot cocoa. "Tell me, Miss Nikos, why do you want to become a huntress? You would become far more famous and much wealthier if you stuck to participating in tournaments in Mistral."

"I don't fight for wealth or fame, Professor," Miss Nikos said. "Or at least, I don't wish to do so anymore."

Ozpin leaned forward. "Then what do you fight for, Miss Nikos?"

"For the world," Miss Nikos said. "For humanity. For the four kingdoms and all who dwell in them. Professor, do you know what the name Nikos means in Old Mistrish?"

"Victor of the people," Ozpin said.

"Exactly," Miss Nikos said. "It comes from the days when my family were … emperors and princes; do you know that in the great Mistralian epics, a common epithet for kings is Shepherd of the People?"

"I do, Miss Nikos."

"Surely, the victor of the people has an obligation to fight for the people?" Miss Nikos asked. "To stand at the forefront of the battle against their enemies, as my ancestors did of old. That's what I want to do, that … that is the reason why I want to come here to Beacon."

That had been partly a lie, but as he had watched her, Ozpin had come to understand the other half of the reason why she had wanted to attend Beacon for all that her skills made attendance superfluous. But he did not begrudge her wanting to live a normal life and forge friendships that she hoped would last a lifetime, and she had never given him any reason to believe that she had not been genuine in the motive that she had revealed to him.

As he had watched her, Miss Nikos had revealed herself to be so much more than just a skilled warrior, more than just another Qrow in the making. She was a true paragon, a font of virtues worthy of Maidenhood. She had all the nobility of her ancestors and little of their overweening pride and arrogance. In her gentle grace, she reminded him of the very first Fall Maiden, who had taught him to be thankful for the gifts that the world had bestowed upon him.

Would that he could have been merely thankful for having been given Pyrrha Nikos, instead of having to ask her to hurl herself into the fires of her own destruction for him.

So much would be lost if, as seemed so likely, she accepted his offer. And Ozpin was not thinking of an old Mistralian family wiped out or the rather pompous idea that such individuals carried the history of that ancient city with them in their blood; kind hearts were more than coronets, and simple faith than Mistralian blood, for all that Miss Nikos possessed all four of those.

Ozpin's fingers tapped upon the virtual keys, and Miss Nikos' file — and with her faintly smiling face that seemed to mock and to torment him — disappeared, replaced by that of Ruby Rose. Unlike the faintly smiling Miss Nikos, Miss Rose looked like she was trying to look serious in her photograph, although she was not managing it particularly well: glee was tugging at the sides of her mouth, and she seemed hard put to resist it. He could still remember the day he had offered her early entry into Beacon as though it was yesterday. He could remember how Qrow and Tai had both urged against it — let her wait until she's seventeen like everyone else; let her have two more years at combat school before getting thrown in at the deep end; she doesn't have the grasp of the academics to skip two years without consequence — but he had ignored them both.

The allure of a silver-eyed warrior had proved too great … and someone who could already show not only such skill but such courage when still so young was wasted at Signal. There was so much of her mother in her, though she had her father's sense of humour too.

It was partly for Summer's sake that she was not his first choice, partly because she reminded him more of the first Summer in her nature, and partly because, however fair, it was Miss Nikos had impressed him more. But partly, it was because he didn't wish to do this to Summer's only child. He might wield her as a weapon, but this … did he not owe her more than that?

And yet, he would do it if he had no other choice. And he would need no other choices because Ruby would not refuse him.

He scowled, not at Ruby's picture but at himself, at the knowledge of what he had to do and to what excellent people he had to do it to.

Miss Nikos, Miss Rose … and Amber. Amber most of all.

Uncle Ozpin! Uncle Ozpin! Did you bring me back a present?!

When he thought back to the day they'd found her, the only survivor of the grimm attack that had destroyed her village, a baby shielded by her mother's body and by the rubble of the church that had fallen in just the right way to cover her without crushing her; when they had pulled the debris away, and the sunlight through the shattered window had fallen directly on that squalling, shrieking child … it had seemed like a sign that the God of Light had not wholly forsaken him. She had been a miracle, sent to remind him at his lowest ebb that not all he did was in vain, that even if he could not save the world, he could at least save a life this day. He had broken down and wept, with Qrow and Summer and Merida and Glynda all watching him; he had wept for this poor miraculous child as he thanked all the powers of heaven for the deliverance of them both.

He had known ever since that day that she was destined for something special, and he had suspected even then that that something might be Maidenhood; that was why, when Summer and Merida had both offered to take the girl and raise her as their own, he had taken Merida's side.

With his head, he had thought that perhaps Summer had the better argument — she was already raising one child with another on the way who would be as sisters to Amber; she knew what she was doing, unlike Merida, who was childless; she had Tai to help raise the girl, to be a father to her, while Merida was alone — but, quite apart from the fact that Merida would not give way to Summer upon the point, and the justice to her claim that Summer already had two daughters and could hardly begrudge Merida one of her own, quite apart from all of that … he had felt that, raised as the daughter of a Maiden, Amber might grow to possess a greater destiny than as one amongst the daughters of Summer Rose.

And so, Merida had taken the child and raised her in a little cottage in the woods, with only a small village nearby in the way of neighbours, and even they rarely trespassed into the forest. They were — they had been — in many ways as isolated from civilisation and humanity as the Warrior in the Wood had been.

It had been just the two of them, and Ozpin, who had been a visitor whenever time and duty allowed, an honorary uncle whose visits were always welcome.

And in that capacity, he had watched Amber grow and blossom into a lovely young woman, kind and gentle, with the most beautiful singing voice. The way that she would run to him when she was young, shrieking his name in delight, were etched into his memory. Those pleasures which Salem had denied to him when she murdered his children — their children — out of spite to keep them from his hands, he had enjoyed, in some part, through Amber.

And when Merida died, who should be in her thoughts but Amber, her own beloved daughter, the girl who had shared her life in ways no one else had for fifteen years past? Amber had become the Fall Maiden. She had become the Fall Maiden, and Ozpin had smiled at it because he could think of no one more worthy to bear the mantle.

He recalled that she had wept when he took her away to Beacon, to be kept safe and to train in the use of her new magic. She wept at her going, and then she fled from Beacon, and then, while Qrow searched frantically for her … the creatures of Salem found her first.

Ozpin found himself wondering what Amber's life would have been like if he had sided with Summer that day, all those years ago. Perhaps Summer, with another child to look after, might not have gone on the mission that had claimed her life. Even if she had, Amber would have grown up with two strong, loving sisters. Amber might have felt overshadowed by those sisters and their prowess in combat, but other than that, she would have grown up an ordinary, happy — if Miss Rose and Miss Xiao Long were any indication — girl, unnoticed by anyone, in no danger at all.

Instead, Ozpin had given her to Merida, and so, she had become the Fall Maiden, and so, he had condemned her to be hunted by a ferocious predator knowing neither pity nor remorse.

And now, though Amber had not even seen the change of seventeen years, he would have to kill her because of that same mantle in order to keep it from the monster who had sought her death.

He was beginning to wish — no, that was not true; he had often wished it before now, though less often since the last of the usurpers had been put down and the line of virtuous Maidens restored — that he had never granted his magic to the four sisters.

They had thanked him for it, at the time, and he had told them that he ought to be thanking them for the way that they had restored his faith in humanity and its potential. They had been such sweet girls, all of them, and kind and generous besides; they had to have been to share their time and the blessings of their company with a recalcitrant old man who wanted nothing to do with the wider world beyond his walls. They had been so lovely, they … they had reminded him of the kind of girls he would have wished his own sweet babes to have grown into if they had been allowed to grow.

And so, out of gratitude, he had bestowed upon them power that they might spread joy and hope throughout the world; he had forgotten that they had not needed power to bring both joy and hope and so much else to his door in the first place. But he had hoped … he had dared to dream that, together with himself, they might finally be able to fulfil his quest from the God of Light and bring mankind together in peace.

Instead, the brutish instincts of men had corrupted the beautiful gift he had sought to bestow upon them, and he had been forced to watch as the spiritual descendants of those perfect girls had been hunted down for their power the way that animals were hunted for their pelts, as the power that he had given to those who so reminded him of his daughters fell into the hands of murderesses and tyrants, the very best of whom were nothing like he had imagined or desired the Maidens to become.

And now, because of the system he had established, he was forced to send a girl worthy to be admired and respected to her ignominious demise in darkness beneath the earth.

He would take it back, if he could. He would take back the whole system. But such a feat was beyond his power now, and had been ever since he had established it, casting the greatest part of his power upon the Maidens.

How often the decisions that we make with the best of intentions are the ones that return to destroy us.

The elevator door opened — which surprised Ozpin, as he thought he had made it clear that he did not wish to be disturbed — and Miss Shimmer walked into his office. She was carrying a rather large book beneath her arm, old and leatherbound by the looks of it. She moved with a mixture of diffidence and wariness, but she did not seem quite as angry with him as she had been when he left her.

Ozpin doubted that she would have gotten over it quite so quickly.

He didn't ask her to leave. After what he had done to her, she had the right to stay, at least a little while. Rather, he turned off the screen on his desk and sat up a little straighter in his chair. "Miss Shimmer," he said, "what an unexpected pleasure. And what can I do for you?"

Sunset approached his desk, but did not sit down in the chair before it. She looked down at him, and took a deep breath. "You can give me a chance to save Amber, Professor."

Ozpin found himself sitting up straighter in his chair, completely involuntarily but irresistibly at the same time. Uncle Ozpin! Did you bring me back a present?

Yes, my dear; I brought you salvation.

His voice trembled a little in spite of his control over it. "I … I beg you, Miss Shimmer, for all that you have cause to hate me, I beg you, do not taunt me with false hope."

"I have many faults, Professor, but I hope I am not become so cruel," Sunset said. "I'm serious. I think that I — that we — can save Amber and avoid the need to transfer her aura to Pyrrha."

Ozpin frowned. "Forgive me, Miss Shimmer, but knowing you as I do, how can I be sure that this is not simply a way to save Miss Nikos?"

"It is a way to save Pyrrha, but you could at least hear me out before you assume that makes my idea worthless," Sunset said, with an edge of sharpness entering her voice.

She was right, of course; while he wouldn't put it past Miss Shimmer to have put more thought into the saving Miss Nikos aspect of her plan than of the healing Amber, it was churlish of him to dismiss the possibility simply because of who was bringing it to him.

And could he really dismiss out of hand any chance to save Amber? Any chance at all, no matter how slim. The moment those words had passed Sunset's lips, there was a part of Ozpin, the part that still remembered what it had been like to oh so briefly be a father, that had wanted to leap to his feet with a loud cry of exultation and give Sunset everything she needed.

But there was another part, the larger part, the part that had been a leader in a shadow war for so many generations, that recognised that he could do nothing that would jeopardise the chance of successfully passing on the Fall Mantle to Miss Nikos, or to one of the others if — unlikely, but nevertheless — she would not go through with it. He could not risk the Fall Maiden upon a desperate throw for double six, not even for Amber's sake.

But nor could he ignore the chance. He sighed. "You are quite right, Miss Shimmer, and chide me well. What is your plan?"

Sunset raised her free hand, currently encased within a white silk bridal glove. "You know that my semblance allows me to enter the souls of those I touch?"

"I do not think you've ever told me that, Miss Shimmer," Ozpin observed mildly. "Congratulations on unlocking your semblance."

"It's actually been a little while, but thanks anyway," Sunset muttered. "The point is, I want to use my semblance to enter Amber's soul, and once I'm in there, I think I can use my magic to tie-off the frayed edges of her aura and stabilise her condition. Then Jaune can use his semblance to amplify her existing aura until her strength returns. And then, if necessary, I can try and wake her up from where I am in her consciousness."

Ozpin's face was neutral, but inside, he could not help but feel a little disappointed. Miss Shimmer offered him nothing but conjecture and a gamble. "And what makes you think you can accomplish these feats?"

"Because there is a tradition of dreamwalking and lucid dreaming amongst my people, and lore around it," Sunset said, "and the lore agrees that when you walk in dreams, you can do things that would be impossible even by Equestrian standards. I believe that the reason Amber's aura cannot repair itself naturally is because of the means used to steal her magic; I believe that the method of the theft — some dark magic almost certainly — has left a residue that is continuing to attack Amber even now, but in her soul, I can purge her of that darkness, and even if that's not enough, I'll be able to do magic that is beyond me in this world to bring her back."

"Perhaps," Ozpin said. "You have no proof of your theory, no proof that this can be done. You have never done it before, and to do it, you would have to remove Amber from the machine that is all that is keeping her alive."

"It's not as though the machine is going to heal her ever," Sunset said. She took a deep breath and calmed her voice. "Forgive me, but I believe that by keeping Amber's core temperature low enough, we can replicate at least some of the functions of the stasis pod and continue to keep her alive long enough for me to fix her. She will not die immediately if the pod is cracked open, Professor, there is time enough; I know there is."

Ozpin closed his eyes. Uncle Ozpin! Did you bring me back a present?

I'm afraid not, for it was only fool's gold after all.

"I would give almost anything to see Amber safe and sound again," he said.

"Then—" Sunset began.

"But what you propose is too risky," Ozpin said. "If Amber dies while under your care, then all of the Fall Maiden's powers will pass to Cinder Fall."

"Yes," Sunset admitted. "But … Professor, in its best outcome, your plan will certainly kill either Pyrrha or Amber, and possibly both. My plan at its best will save them both. I'm asking you to have the … the decency to let me try before you put my friend into that machine and turn it on."

"I cannot act on optimism," Ozpin said. "I must think of the larger picture of this war."

"Then don't call it optimism; call it faith," Sunset said. She looked down at the book in her hands and slammed it down onto Ozpin's desk. She opened it up to a blank page, took a pen out of her pocket, and scribbled something onto it.

She slid the book over to Ozpin's side of the desk. "If you won't listen to me," Sunset said, "then please, listen to someone much wiser than I am before you dismiss me in favour of your … your terrible idea."

Intrigued despite himself, Ozpin pulled the heavy book a little closer towards him.

Princess Celestia, the time has come.

Ozpin was about to ask what that meant, or what it was supposed to signify to him, when to his somewhat amazement, he saw writing spring without visible source onto the page beneath the words that Miss Shimmer had written.

Do I have the pleasure of addressing Professor Ozpin of Beacon Academy?

Ozpin's eyebrows rose. He glanced up at Miss Shimmer.

Sunset smiled faintly. "That book is connected by magic to another identical book in Equestria. The person writing on the other side is Princess Celestia, Equestria's ruler and my teacher. It was she who gave me the idea that we don't always have to choose between the world and the people we hold dear. Sometimes, we can have both, and do good for strangers too. Please, write back to her. You have my word; I won't read a single thing that passes between you."

Ozpin considered it. He could refuse. Perhaps it would be easiest to do so, but then what? Send Miss Shimmer away and resume his brooding? It might be good to unburden himself to someone who would not judge him for it and whose judgement made no difference either way in any case.

And perhaps, just perhaps, a ruler might even understand.

He picked up a pen of his own. "I simply write?"

Sunset nodded. "You just write and wait for a reply. I'll … give you some space." She turned away and walked to one of the windows overlooking the docking platforms.

Ozpin looked at her for a moment, her back to him and to her book, and then he looked down at the words written on the page before him.

He gripped his pen in his hands.

I am Professor Ozpin, as I am given to understand that you are Princess Celestia. Is it Your Majesty or Your Highness?

Please, I am resigned to obsequious formality from my little ponies however much I may detest it, but you are certainly no subject of mine. Celestia will do. I would like to start by saying thank you, for taking such good care of my little sunbeam.

Ozpin could not help but stare at that a moment before he replied. May I ask what you think Miss Shimmer has been doing here that you believe I have been taking good care of her?

I am aware of what Sunset is training to become, what it seems she already is, for you seem to blur the lines between training and practice somewhat, and I will not deny that there are times when my heart beats harder with concern for her in a world as violent as yours. But though our conversations are nowhere near as frequent as I should like, I have nevertheless noticed, and Twilight has noticed the same, Sunset growing into a fine young mare, the kind of mare I always hoped she would become but could not make of her. I think you are owed thanks for that, Professor.

You will not bear ceremony as a princess regnant, but you will stand on it before a mere headmaster?

I know enough to know that you are more than just a mere headmaster, Professor, and I am of the opinion that there is nothing mere about being a headmaster, but even were those things not so, should I not show a little respect towards my daughter's teacher?

Thank you for teaching her, and raising her, and helping her to become that which I always knew that she could be.

Ozpin stared down at the words written on the page before him, and he … he found he could not help but smile abashedly. Miss Shimmer has certainly grown into a formidable young woman, but her friends deserve far more credit for the transformation than I do.

Something makes me suspect that you arranged for her to find those excellent friends who now surround her.

And what makes you suspect I am so devious?

I have done as much in your position when I felt the student in question required it. Recently, in fact. I am sometimes a teacher myself, you know.

Miss Shimmer mentioned that you were not only a princess but her teacher. I had assumed some kind of apprenticeship.

Sunset was my personal student for a time, but beyond that, I am also the head teacher of a school of magic, where the brightest unicorns may study the arcane arts.

Indeed? I am surprised you find the time while ruling a kingdom.

Says he who finds time to run a school while also leading a war.

Ozpin chuckled. Yes, it is miraculous what one can find time to do if one is willing to forego sleep, isn't it?

He felt as though he could feel Celestia's amusement on the other side of the book. Indeed. I, for one, know that I will always find time for my school and my teaching. There are times when I consider vesting myself of crown and state and royal dignity, but I would never give up teaching my little unicorns, mentoring those special sparks and helping them fulfil their potential to shine bright across all the land. There is nothing quite like it, is there?

Nothing in the whole world. I was the youngest person to ever be appointed a headmaster, as I am never allowed to forget, and I very much regret that my early promotion has left me so removed from the everyday lives of the majority of my students and gave me so little time to truly teach.

What subject did you teach, if I may ask?

I taught three subjects: History, Fairy Tales, and Grimm Studies.

There was a pause. Please do not take it the wrong way, Professor, if I say that I feel sorry for you. I have the privilege of teaching my students how to unlock the wonders of the world; you must teach them to defend against its horrors.

I do not resent you feeling sorry for me, Celestia; how can I, when I so often feel sorry for myself? Ozpin: Ozpin.

I beg your pardon?

No more Professor, please. As one teacher to another.

Very well, Ozpin.

Thank you, Celestia. He paused. I fear that, now I have your attention, I must chide you somewhat for the way you have misused this land of Remnant as your exiling grounds.

Yes, well, I would say that the worst of that was done in the time of my own teacher, Starswirl the Bearded. In my time, I have tried to deal with our difficulties by ourselves and on our own soil. Forgive me just a moment; one such perennial problem has just entered the room and looks bored. The seconds ticked by before Celestia began to write again. Thank goodness Fluttershy was not far behind. As I was saying: I recognise that you have grounds to be upset with us, and so on his behalf and on behalf of Equestria, I offer you my most sincere apologies. I hope that our discarded troubles have not been too much trouble for you and yours.

Compared with the troubles that we have brought upon ourselves, I'm sad to say that the troubles that Equestria has brought upon us are far from the worst.

Knowing the nature of some of what we have banished through the portal, it makes me shudder to read that. Are things really so bad as Sunset has made them out to be?

I fear it may be worse than she has conveyed to you. Or why else would I train generation after generation of students to battle an unending tide of darkness, sending them forth to gleam so brightly, like stars against the night that is constantly threatening to engulf us, until one by one the darkness snuffs them out, one way or the other?

Has this war raged for all your life?

This war was old when I was young and yet will be young when I am gone.

There was a pause on the other side of the journal. Ozpin, I trust you have your reasons for deceiving Sunset and her friends, but surely, you have no need to lie to me. What harm can I do you with the truth?

Ozpin's eyebrows rose. I'm afraid I've no idea what you mean.

I mean that, as one immortal — or close enough, at any road — to another, your secret is safe with me.

For a moment, Ozpin did nothing but stare down at the words that had picked their way across the page before him. He could have done nothing else even if he'd wanted to. How did you know?

It takes one to know one. You write with the sadness of one who has seen more than a mortal's life of sadness. You write in a way that I can recognise. That said, I wasn't sure until you confirmed it; had I been wrong I would have looked rather foolish, wouldn't I?

As it is, you look very wise indeed, and quite perceptive; only the very closest of my confederates know that about me. I am cursed by the gods never to find peace until I have completed my quest to vanquish Salem; I begin to think that I will never find peace. I simply endure.

Walking a long and lonely road, joined at times by fellow travellers and noble companions, but only for the briefest of moments when compared with the span of the road down which you walk, how far you have gone, and how far you have yet to go.

You understand perfectly.

How can I not, when I have lived it? In my youth, my sister Luna served as the companion of my labours; now, thank goodness, she is able to be so again. But for a thousand years in between, when she lay banished, I was all alone.

I have always been alone, and so I envy you to have even a sister to share your burden and your experience.

And I am sorry that that is a comfort denied to you. And yet to speak true, we have never truly been alone, have we? Have you always been a teacher?

No, that is quite recent. But before then, I was often a mentor, although I often coupled that role with another mask.

As we both couple teaching with another role. But, and I say this as one who is both, being a mentor to one and being a teacher to a class or a school are not so very different save in scale. It is a role that blesses and curses us in equal measure. It is our tragedy that we must raise and train these remarkable young people, kind and brave, blessed with rare talents and more blessed besides with rarer virtues; I have never had any children, and yet, at the same time, I have had so many, far more than any mother in Equestria ever brought into the world.

Ozpin smiled. I had children of my own once, a very long time ago now, and yet, I understand your meaning perfectly. So many wonderful students and protégés have touched my heart. Ruby's mother, Summer Rose; Ruby herself now, and Pyrrha too; Amber; Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall; so many of them, I could fill up this book with their names. So many, and all of them gone now, or almost all. Only the latest generation remains, and in a blink of my eye, they will be gone too. I will send them out, as I sent all the rest, to gleam so brightly for a moment and then, nothing. All my gallant stars snuffed out by Salem or by time.

And yet, do they not shimmer and sparkle so wondrously in the time that is given to them? When they shine, does their light not touch the very corners of the world, and are we not blessed to share in that light, however brief? Yes, it is our tragedy that we must lose all whom we love, but it is our glory that we can know and love them in the first place. I will never forget a single one of my beloved students, nor would I cast those memories aside merely to assuage the pain of having lost them all. Some went out into the world and found their happiness there; some lost their way — I think we both know the taste of that quite well.

Indeed. It is a bitter draught, but one that it seems very difficult to avoid ahead of time. I have drank of it, and I have no doubt that I will drink of it again. It is the taste of our failure, is it not?

It is, every time. I am glad to say that some whom I failed, Sunset being one, find their way by other paths to a place in the world they can call home. Others are not so fortunate. Some, I have been forced to call my enemies. And some have traced their courses across the sky and left the world a better and a brighter place than they found it. Yet I have loved them all.

Even those who became your enemies?

The sting of betrayal is deep and painful, but it would need to be deeper still by far to poison all the love that had gone before, would it not?

To any other, I would be ashamed to confess it, but I agree with you.

I am glad to see we are of one mind in this. It gives me hope that you will understand when I say that I fear you have forgotten one of the most important principles of being a mentor.

And what is that?

That there comes a time when we must accept that we are not only the teachers, but have in some degree become the students also.

You refer to Miss Shimmer's plan. It is an immense risk she asks of me.

Is any risk too great to run to save, or even try to save, those students whom we love so well?

Miss Shimmer places all her hopes in hope itself. It has been a long time since I had so much hope to wager.

That is one area where we must be the students, not the teachers. We are old, and having lived a long time, we have acquired some wisdom and much knowledge, but we err if we confuse our faults with our wisdom, if we confuse our aged weariness and caution with our hard-won wisdom, if we confuse our lack of youthful confidence with greater knowledge instead of greater years. It is our part, and for my part it is the most rewarding part of my life, to guide these young souls on their way to the fulfilment of their destinies, but there are also times when we despair and the flames of our will gutter low and the bitter watches of the night threaten to freeze our hearts with fear when we must be guided by them in our turn. They are stars, just as you named them: so many stars so bright and beautiful. Yes, they burn all, all too briefly, but do they not light up the sky most beautifully before they go out? And will their light, shining and shimmering and sparkling, not serve to guide us homeward to salvation in the meantime? You say you have no hope; Ozpin, there is no better source of hope in hopeless hours than to look at your students and realise that the world is safe with them. Trust them and let their light redeem your errors.

Ozpin closed his eyes. Ruby, Pyrrha … and Amber too? Remnant was blessed with them, and would be more blessed if the third name were joined with the other two. If Pyrrha were not forced to sacrifice herself for the sake of the Fall Maiden, but instead were joined with her as a guard and a companion in the inevitable battle … with Ruby and Pyrrha by Amber's side, would Cinder not fall for certain?

Would such a second battle not redeem his mistake in letting the first battle be fought at all?

Be guided by their stars, Celestia urged him, not to snuff one out. Sunset offered him a chance to reignite Amber's star. Could he ignore that simply because he was afraid?

You have convinced me, as I think only you could. If it please you, might we talk again another time?

I would like that very much. I will discuss with Sunset and see if there is not a way that we might produce another book, for you and I to use exclusively.

That would be much more convenient, wouldn't it? Thank you. If Miss Shimmer's plan works, my gratitude will be boundless.

It will be Sunset who deserves the gratitude, not I. Until next time, Ozpin.

I will look forward to it, Celestia.

Ozpin put down his pen. "Miss Shimmer?"

Sunset turned around, an expectant look upon her face. "Professor?"

"Save her," Ozpin said.

Sunset straightened her back. "Yes, Professor."

Uncle Ozpin! Did you bring me back a present?

Yes, my dear, I brought you a chance.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Shimmering Hope

​

"What do you think Sunset was so upset about?" Penny asked.

She and Ruby walked slowly, and rather aimlessly, across the courtyard, Ruby scuffing her feet on the stones beneath her as she went; they passed in front of, and a little beneath, the statue of the huntsman and huntress; the snarling beowolf below appeared to fix his gaze upon them as they walked.

Ruby wished briefly that she had a pair of pockets that she could thrust her hands into; sadly, she did not. It was the downside of wearing a skirt.

"I don't know, Penny," she murmured. "But…"

Penny looked at her intently, leaning forwards, green eyes widening. "But what?"

"Well, she wasn't like that when she and Pyrrha left to go and talk to Professor Ozpin, right?" Ruby asked. "But then Sunset comes back all by herself—"

"Do you think Sunset and Pyrrha had an argument?"

"No," Ruby said quickly. "No, that's not possible; Sunset and Pyrrha don't fight." She paused, but could not resist adding, "It's me they argue with."

Penny cocked her head to one side a little. "Are you … joking?"

"I wish," Ruby muttered. "Like … I get that we're not going to agree on everything, and Sunset has gotten better at, like, not always having to have her own way and stopping me from doing what I think is best, but … is it bad that I still kind of wish that she'd just let me be right once in a while instead of just 'I think you're wrong, but I'm going to let you have your way anyway because I'm…' what's the word? It begins with 'mag'. Magne…"

"Magnetism?"

"No, that's not it," Ruby replied. "Anyway, the point is that I wish she'd admit I was right more often, you know?"

"Have you told Sunset how you feel?" asked Penny.

"Yes," Ruby replied emphatically. "That's why she started forcing herself to agree with me."

"Have you told her that you want her to admit that you were right?"

"No," Ruby said. "But … that's … harder. Sunset can stop needing to get her own way all the time, even if she disagrees with me, but if she disagrees with me, then … what? Am I supposed to ask her to lie to me and pretend that she agrees with me even when she doesn't? I'm not sure I could do that." She paused. "I don't think I want that."

"What do you want?" asked Penny. "Ruby, do you wish you were somewhere else?"

"Oh, is there somewhere you want to go?" asked Ruby. "Because we can anywhere, or pretty much—"

Penny shook her head. "No, I wasn't being literal, for once," she said. "Well, perhaps I was actually being literal, but not in the exact way of meaning 'do you wish you were in a different location at this very moment.' I mean … what you describe sounds very similar to what I've been going through with Team Rosepetal, and I decided that I wanted to leave and go somewhere where I was appreciated."

Ruby didn't immediately reply to Penny's words; she hadn't thought of it like that before, but now that Penny had said it, now that Penny had pointed it out … she couldn't brush it off and tell Penny that there was no similarity there at all.

"I get what you're saying," she said softly. "But … the difference is … well, I don't know, maybe it isn't actually a difference, I don't want to speak for Rainbow or Ciel or Twilight, but … with Sunset, and Pyrrha … it's not that they don't care. In fact, I think it's the opposite; it's that they care too much. Care too much, and maybe don't respect me enough, but … they want to take care of me; they just don't get that I don't need to be taken care of."

Penny nodded. "Do you think it's because you're younger than they are?"

"That's probably some of it," Ruby agreed, "but honestly, I think I could be their age and I'd still have to put up with this because … I don't think you could get Sunset or Pyrrha to completely stop acting the way they do without changing who they are. If I told you that they treat me this way because they're both royalty, would you understand what I was saying?"

Penny was silent for a few moments. "No," she said eventually.

"Okay, so you know how Pyrrha's family used to rule Mistral, right?"

Penny nodded. "Uh-huh."

"And you know how Sunset was raised by a princess, right?"

Penny nodded again. "Princess Celestia. She's very nice."

"So while they both might not be actual princesses, they're both … they both think that way, because like … my dad is a huntsman, my mom was a huntress, my Uncle Qrow is a huntsman too, and so that was everywhere when I was growing up, all the stories, and … and I know what it means to be a huntress, or at least I know what I think it means to be a huntress, even if not everyone else agrees with me, because I agree with it: never back down from a fight, draw your weapon and face the darkness. But Sunset, and Pyrrha too, they grew up with different stories, different examples; a princess has a duty to protect her people, just like a huntress has a duty to protect everyone, but a princess has that duty because she's wiser than everyone else, more capable. Because the people she has a duty to protect can't take care of themselves, like a mom taking care of kids. Pyrrha used this phrase to me once, 'shepherd of the people', which sounds cool and all until you realise that you're the sheep." She sighed. "It's frustrating sometimes, but they can't change it without changing who they are, and to be fair, I couldn't change either without changing who I am, so…" She shrugged.

"That makes sense," Penny said, speaking a little slowly. "Only what you said also sounds a lot like Rainbow Dash, and she isn't a princess."

"No, but she is like a big sister to all of her friends, right?" Ruby asked. "That's another job that lets you think you know better than everyone else. Trust me, I know."

Penny chuckled. "But you didn't answer my question: do you wish you were somewhere else?"

"Like on a different team?"

"Or a different academy even."

"Nah," Ruby said, shaking her head. "Because … the stuff that we argue about, it's important. It's the stuff that you probably should argue about, the stuff that you should have feelings about, one way or the other. I don't think I'd like three teammates who all thought exactly the same way that I do. It might be a relief for a second, but it would get kind of boring after a while, and when we disagree, we have to think about why we disagree, and that's a good thing. Plus, when we're not arguing about something big and serious, I like them, a lot. I told you that Sunset and Pyrrha act the way they do because they care; well, I care too, or it wouldn't bother me the way it does."

Penny nodded. "I see," she murmured. "Feelings are very complicated, aren't they?"

Ruby grinned. "Oh, you bet."

Penny smiled too. "So, if Sunset and Pyrrha didn't have a fight, then why do you think Sunset was so upset? Do you think Pyrrha might know? Could it be something that happened with Professor Ozpin?"

"That would make sense," Ruby agreed. "Maybe Pyrrha can tell us? I'll—"

A single black feather floated downwards, out of the sky, wafting slowly past Ruby's eyes, almost touching her nose as it fell.

"I wouldn't do that, kid," Uncle Qrow said as he walked around the other side of the huntsman statue, his back stooped as it so often was, his hands thrust into the pockets of his jacket. "Your friends … let's just say they have their reasons for being a little unsettled."

Ruby stared. "Uncle … Qrow?"

Qrow grinned. "Hey."

Ruby gasped. "Uncle Qrow!" she yelled as she rushed forwards, trailing rosepetals after her onto the stone of the Beacon courtyard, throwing her arms around Qrow's slender waist and hugging him tightly. "When did you get here? What are you doing here? Does Yang know you're here?" She grinned up at him. "Did you miss me?"

"Slow down, that's a lot of questions," Qrow said as he picked Ruby up by the scruff of the neck like she was a puppy or a kitten and lifted her up so that they were at eye level. "But the answer to your last question is 'no.'" The tone in his voice and the smile on his face gave the lie to it.

Ruby pouted. "Well then, me neither."

Qrow ruffled her hair with his free hand as he put her down. "I just got back. Ozpin asked me to come in for a little while, which I was only too glad to, since it meant I could spend some time with my nieces. And no, Yang doesn't know I'm here, not yet. You're the one I found first. Lucky you, huh?"

"Does that mean you know what happened with Sunset and Pyrrha?" Ruby asked. "You do know, don't you? Did something happen when they went to see Professor Ozpin?"

Qrow hesitated, looking over Ruby's head at Penny. "So, who's your friend here?"

"I'm Penny, Penny Polendina," Penny said. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mister Qrow."

Qrow laughed. "'Mister Qrow' makes me sound like I belong in a kids book, just Qrow will be fine. And it's nice to meet you too, Penny Polendina; any friend of Ruby's is okay with me."

"You didn't answer my question," Ruby pointed out.

"No, I didn't," Qrow confirmed. "And I won't, at least not out here. It isn't something to talk about out in the open; none of this is something to talk about out in the open."

"I'd say we could go back to our dorm room," Ruby said, "but Sunset kicked us out. She said she needed to think."

Qrow shook his head. "I can't say that I blame her, but … she can think all she wants; it won't change anything. This whole thing is a mess, but it is what it is; there's no other option going to show up, no matter how much anyone wants it too."

Ruby frowned. "Uncle Qrow … you're starting to worry me right now."

Qrow closed his eyes and bowed his head. "I'm sorry, kid," he said. "I guess I'm starting to worry myself right now." He paused. "I know that Yang knows almost as much as you do—"

"She does?" asked Penny.

"Yeah," Ruby admitted. "Sunset told her."

"How did she take it?"

"She didn't like the fact that I didn't tell her."

"Anyway, why don't we see if we can talk about this in her room?" Qrow suggested.

"Okay," Ruby said, "but, just to warn you, I don't think Yang's very happy with you right now."

Qrow sighed. "Story of my life, Ruby. I've gotten used to it."

Penny took a step back. "I'll let the two or three of you—"

"No, Penny, it's fine," Ruby said. "This was supposed to be all about you and your transferring schools, I'm sorry."

"It sounds as though there's a very good explanation," Penny replied, "and if something has happened to Pyrrha or Sunset, I would like to know about it."

"If Ruby wants you to come along, then that's fine by me, too," Qrow said. "So, you're the one leaving Atlas and coming to Beacon, huh?"

Penny nodded. "That's right."

"Smart girl," Qrow said approvingly. "It'll be the best decision you ever made, trust me."

The three of them made their way back in the direction that Penny and Ruby had originally come from not very much earlier, back across the courtyard and into the dormitory. They climbed the stairs in silence, with only the sound of their feet softly thumping upon the carpet-covered boards to disturb the quiet. They reached the corridor leading to, amongst others, the dorm rooms of SAPR and YRBN.

"Yeah, I remember this corridor," Qrow said. "It looked as boring then as it does now."

He reached the point between the two doors, SAPR on one side and YRBN on the other, and looked for a second at the SAPR picture hung upon their door, of the four of them with Fluffy that they'd had taken at Benni Havens'.

"Cute," he said. "Where was this?"

"Oh, yeah, Benni Haven's wasn't around when you were here, was it?" Ruby asked.

"Is that a place?" asked Qrow. "I think I remember a Benni Haven; she was a year younger than us, I think."

Ruby nodded. "Now she runs a restaurant in the old lodge just outside the school."

"Huh, is that so?" Qrow asked. "Good for her, I guess."

"She lets all the teams that want to get pictures with the beowolf, and then she puts them on the wall," Ruby said. "To remember them, to make sure that they are remembered, when…"

"Yeah," Qrow murmured. "I know when. That … that sounds real nice of her."

"She remembers Mom," Ruby added. "She'd probably remember you too, if you went to see her."

"I doubt it," Qrow replied. "Everyone remembers Summer; your mom was … unforgettable. But I was just one face in a crowd." He turned away. "Anyway, this one's Yang's room, right? Let's see if there's anybody home."

Penny and Ruby stood on either side of Qrow as he knocked on the door to the dorm room.

There was a moment's pause before Yang answered the door. "Uncle Qrow?" she gasped. "What are you—?" She stopped, and seemed to remember, or maybe make herself remember, that she was mad at him. "We need to talk," she said, in a noticeably less enthusiastic tone than when she first opened the door.

"Yeah," Qrow muttered. "So I've been told." He held out his arms. "Can I at least get a hug first?"

Yang hesitated, staring at him with one fist plated firmly upon her hip, before she stepped forward, putting her arms around Uncle Qrow and letting him put his arms around her in tone.

"It's good to see you again, Firecracker," Qrow said.

Yang relaxed into his embrace, resting her head on his chest. "It's good to see you, too."

She let him go and stepped backwards into her room to let the three of them in. There was no sign of Ren or Nora in the dorm room, which was good; it meant that they could talk without having to worry about what they were talking about.

"Thanks for remembering to include me this time, Ruby," Yang said pointedly as she sat down on her bed.

Ruby laughed nervously.

"Don't get too mad at Ruby; it wasn't her fault," Qrow said. "Oz takes information security very seriously. The wrong people knowing the wrong things … it can get bad. Very bad."

"Is that why you didn't tell us?" Yang asked as Ruby and Penny sat down beside her, so that Ruby was sandwiched between Yang on one side and Penny on the other. "You or Dad? Because Ozpin wouldn't let you?"

"I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to know," Qrow replied as he sat down opposite them, on Ren's bed in the middle of the room. "What was I supposed to do, sit you down at age six and eight and tell you there was a monster named Salem trying to collect magical relics so she can kill everyone?"

"You didn't tell us anything!" Yang replied, her eyes flashing red. "Not about Mom, about her eyes, about Ruby's eyes; Ruby has magic eyes, and we had no idea! You and Dad and Oz, you hid Mom's diary from us, her words—"

"Words about classified intel—"

"You sound like an Atlas soldier," Yang said.

Qrow winced at that as if he'd been stung by a bee. "Don't say that, it … it's not … it's complicated."

Yang folded her arms. "Complicated how?"

Qrow hesitated for a moment. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to know—"

"That's obvious," Yang muttered.

"We were trying to protect you, me and your father."

"Like the way you protected us by not telling me anything about Raven, so that I put myself and Ruby in danger by going looking for her?" Yang demanded.

"Would you have rather I told you that Raven was a no-good, murdering, thieving bandit?" Qrow shot back at her. He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, I just…"

"It's okay," Yang whispered. "I get it, I … I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have—"

"Yeah, yeah you should," Qrow replied. He sighed and groaned at the same time. "But that … that's why … Raven was the strongest person I knew; even when we were kids, she'd stand up to our Dad, stand up to grown men twice her size, and by the time we got to Beacon … she was the strongest, the toughest; she was a better fighter than your mom, easily; she could throw Summer around like a ragdoll when they sparred, and me and Tai didn't stand a chance against her, even together. And yet, all of this, Salem, the Relics, all of it … it broke her. Toughest woman I ever met, and I watched her crumble under the weight of this thing, first slowly and then all at once. That's why I didn't want you to know, why your Dad and I didn't want you to know, why I hate the fact that you're involved in this. Helping to protect the world sounds great when you're your age, just like it sounded great when I was your age; when you get to my age, you'll see it for what it is, a burden."

"All huntsmen carry that burden," Ruby pointed out.

"Not like this," Qrow muttered darkly. "Not like this. You might not want to hear it, but I'm sorry you're involved in this."

"It seems like Sunset and Pyrrha aren't the only people who want to protect you," Penny whispered into Ruby's ear.

Ruby sighed. "I think you might be right." To Uncle Qrow, she said, "You might not be, but I'm glad we found out—"

"That's because you're young."

"Maybe it is, but that doesn't mean I'm wrong and you're right; it just means you're older than me," Ruby replied. "The way I see it, I'm doing the same things any other huntress does; the difference is that I know what I'm doing, what I'm fighting against."

For a second, she expected him to tell her that she was wrong, but in the end, all that Qrow said was, "Maybe you're right. But you still didn't need to know this any earlier than you found out, either of you. What good would it have done you to know?"

"It wouldn't, I guess," Yang admitted. "So … where have you been for the last year? The last time we saw you was … yeah, it was about a year ago, when you quit teaching at Signal."

"You were a teacher?" Penny asked.

"Only part-time," Qrow replied. "But yeah, I was a combat instructor."

"Only at combat school, that means teaching us to fight grimm, not other students," Ruby explained.

Qrow's eyebrows rose. "You didn't go to combat school?"

"Um … no," Penny said. "No, I didn't. I was … homeschooled." She hiccuped.

"Really? You must be hot stuff for Oz and Jimmy to trust you anyway," Qrow remarked. "Anyway, yeah, I taught the kids a thing or two about how to handle their weapons against monsters. Ruby here was useless until I took her in hand."

"I wasn't that bad!"

"Yeah, you were," Yang said, patting her on the shoulder.

"Not a lot of people know how to handle a scythe; it's a specialist skill," Qrow said, sticking out his chest a little.

"Yeah," Ruby said. "Honestly … if I was building Crescent Rose today … I would have a sword alt-mode like your Harbinger."

Qrow smirked. "Finally found out what I tried to tell you, huh?"

"What did you try and tell her?" asked Penny.

"That a scythe is all well and good for keeping enemies at a distance, but you want options for when they close that distance and get inside your guard," Qrow explained. "That, or the ability to throw a mean right hook."

"I tried to tell you that too," Yang pointed out.

"I know, I know," Ruby said. "But if you were working for Professor Ozpin all this time, then how did you have time to teach at Signal at all? I know you weren't there all the time, but—"

"Things were quiet," Qrow said. "The enemy was passive, or at least, it seemed that way. These things, they … Oz says that they come and go. Sometimes Salem's trying something, and other times, she's licking her wounds from the last time … or planning her next attack, as the case may be."

Ruby nodded. "Professor Ozpin said that to us too; when Pyrrha was going out to fight Cinder, he told us that if she managed to win, and to kill Cinder, then it would take a while for Salem to … go back to the drawing board, I guess."

"I'd say it was a pity that she couldn't close the deal on that one," Qrow said, "but honestly, your friend is lucky to be alive."

"Why do you say that?" asked Penny. "Pyrrha's really good, she's better than Cinder, you just have to watch the video."

"Cinder … turned out to be holding back," Ruby said. "A lot."

Penny frowned. "It didn't look that way on the video."

"No," Ruby admitted. "But … when we were on our last mission, we ran into Cinder again." She decided not to get into the fact that they'd ended up working with her, in part because she was still a little … she didn't like the fact that they had done it. She understood why they'd done it, but she also couldn't stop wishing that she'd gotten the chance to take Cinder out at some point during the mission. "It turns out she's the Fall Maiden. She killed the previous Maiden and took her powers."

"'Maiden'?" Yang repeated. "You mean like Raven was talking about?"

"Magic powers," Qrow explained. "Four of them at any one time: Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter."

Yang's brow furrowed. "Like the fairytale?"

"Exactly like the fairytale," Qrow agreed. "Story of the Seasons, it really happened, only instead of being immortal, it's only the magic that lives forever, passed down from host to host, always four of them at a time. When a Maiden dies, the power passes on to the last person in their thoughts — provided that they're an eligible candidate. Of course, if you kill a Maiden, there's a good chance their last thoughts will be of their attacker and bingo: you've got magic powers now."

"Magic powers that didn't stop Pyrrha from handing Cinder her ass with the trimmings," Yang pointed out.

"She was holding back," Ruby repeated. "To prove that she could beat Pyrrha without magic."

Yang snorted. "That worked well, didn't it?"

Ruby chuckled. "I guess," she admitted. "But still … she's more dangerous than we thought, and worse than we thought." Even if she did help us, she still murdered the Fall Maiden.

"That's true," Qrow said. "But what she's not is the Fall Maiden, at least…"

Ruby leaned forward. "At least not what?"

Qrow groaned. "I don't really know if I ought to tell you this, but—"

"But you're gonna," Yang said. "Right?"

Qrow stared at her, his red eyes into her eyes that were … a little bit red tinted at the moment.

"Sure," he said. "Sure, I'll tell you. Cinder lied to you about killing the previous Fall Maiden — or I should say, the current Fall Maiden. She attacked her and stole some of her power, but she didn't kill her. That's why I quit teaching last year; Oz ordered me to find the Fall Maiden when she … went missing. I caught up with her too late to protect her from Cinder, but in time to save her life and prevent Cinder from completing her theft of the Fall Maiden's power."

"Then how come Cinder was able to come into Beacon without anyone knowing who she was?" Ruby asked.

"I didn't see her face," Qrow explained. "She was … she must have had help, someone with a semblance that confused me or something; when I looked at her, all I saw was a blur, like a bad picture on TV. And with Amber in the condition she was in, I was more focussed on getting out of there than sticking around to find out who the enemy was. That was the next job Oz had for me: find who attacked Amber and where she went next." He snorted. "Of course, you figured that one out before I did."

"Amber," Penny said. "She's the Fall Maiden? That's her name?"

Qrow nodded slowly. "Yeah," he said, as slowly as he had nodded his head. "That's her name."

"So where is she now?" Ruby asked. "Is she okay? I mean, obviously she's not okay, but—"

Qrow shook his head. "It's bad," he said. "It's … it's very bad. The past year, medical technology has been keeping her alive, in stasis down in the vault below the school, but that's not going to hold forever. In fact, it's not even going to last much longer. That's why…" He paused. "There are times when doing this job means doing the same thing as every other huntsman, just like you said, Ruby: saving people, hunting things. The family business. And then there are other times, when doing this job means finding some kid and telling them that you want to take someone else's aura and cram it into their body."

Penny's eyes widened. "But that technology was designed to be used on inanimate objects!" she cried. "It was never meant to be used on another person!"

"Penny?" Ruby asked. "Penny, do you know what Uncle Qrow's talking about?"

"I … I think so," Penny murmured. "My fathers created a device, a machine capable of extracting aura from a person and placing it in … something else." Penny looked at her, lip trembling. "But they only meant it to—"

"I know," Ruby said, taking Penny's hands in her own. "I know; you don't have to say it."

Yang still didn't know about Penny, after all, and Ruby had heard enough to guess what Penny hadn't said: that that machine was how she had been created: they had built Penny, programmed her, and then they had extracted the aura from … someone, presumably one or both of her fathers, and they had used this machine of theirs to bestow that aura on her along with the gift of life.

But now … all the pieces fell into place in Ruby's mind; everything became as clear as if the sun had suddenly broken through the clouds that had obscured the sky: Pyrrha and Sunset had been told everything that Uncle Qrow had just told them, about the Fall Maiden, about this Atlesian machine, which they were going to use on Pyrrha, to transfer Amber's aura to her for … some reason, Ruby didn't quite get that part, but that was why Sunset had been so upset; she wouldn't have been if Professor Ozpin and the others had asked her to do it. She might not have wanted to, and she might have gotten sad and solemn about it, but she wouldn't have snapped at Penny the way she had.

But Pyrrha … they wanted to use this on Pyrrha, and Sunset couldn't think of a way to save her, even though she wanted to.

Pyrrha…

"Why?" Ruby demanded. "Why would you … how could you?"

It was one thing to give aura to something that didn't have any, and in so doing convert a something into a someone; it was another thing to do it to someone who already had an aura of their own. Would it replace it? Mix with it like porridge when you stirred the honey in?

"What's it going to do to her?"

"We don't know for sure," Qrow said.

Ruby got up off the bed, her own eyes as wide as Penny's now, her mouth hanging open when she was not speaking. "Why … why would you do this?"

"Amber's not waking up; if she dies, then Cinder gets all the powers; this is the only way," Qrow said. "Our hope is that the remainder of her powers will be transferred along with her aura."

"And she'll be dead at the end of this," Yang said bluntly.

"I didn't say it was pretty, but the hard truth is that Amber's been dying slow for a year now; dying fast at the end won't make much difference," Qrow replied. "Now do you see why I didn't want you involved in this?"

"And you're going to do this no matter what it might do to Pyrrha?" Ruby demanded.

Qrow hung his head, but at the same time, his voice was as hard as iron as he said, "What's one girl's life against everything that's at stake?"

Ruby froze in place, as though she'd just been slapped across the face.

That was pretty much how she felt to hear those words.

It was partly the fact that it was Uncle Qrow who had said them, her uncle, who never went away but who came back with a fun story of his adventures, but more than that, it was the fact that she couldn't say he was wrong.

Because he was right.

"There … there has to be another way," Ruby murmured. "If … if Cinder dies—"

"How?" Qrow asked. "We don't know where she is, and that Mistralian trick your friend pulled won't work a second time. I hate to say it, but she had her shot and she blew it."

"That doesn't mean you can just kill her!" Penny snapped. "You can't … you can't do this! Ruby, tell him! Tell him this isn't right!"

Ruby said nothing.

Pyrrha.

If … if their positions were reversed, there was no doubt in Ruby's mind that Pyrrha would try and talk her out of it, that Pyrrha and Sunset both would do everything they could to stop her from doing this, from going through with this procedure.

And they would be wrong. As they were always wrong and would never admit to being wrong, because they would have no argument as to why Ruby shouldn't do it.

Say something, Penny said. But what was Ruby supposed to say? Let Amber die and Cinder get the powers? Use someone else instead, someone whose life wasn't worth as much as Pyrrha's?

Someone … someone who doesn't have as much to live for?

"Don't," Ruby whispered. Her voice trembled, and it trembled more as it rose in volume. "Don't do this, not to Pyrrha. If this is the only way, if it has to be done, then use me instead—"

"HELL NO!" Yang snapped, flames leaping from her golden hair, hair that turned visibly paler, lightening like sunlight as the flames spread outwards, making Penny recoil away from her. "No, no way, you are not—"

"Pyrrha has so much to live for," Ruby said.

"You're only fifteen; you've got a lot to live for!" Yang snapped. "I will break that damn machine into pieces if I have to—"

Qrow said, "Yang, calm down—"

"Don't tell me to calm the—"

"Ruby isn't doing this," Qrow said firmly. "Ozpin won't allow it, and neither will I."

"Because my life is worth more than Pyrrha's?" Ruby demanded.

Qrow's face was unflinching, and his tone flat as he said, "It is to me."

Ruby slapped him across the face, her palm scraping across his stubbled chin. He didn't flinch from that either.

"I don't want you to do this either, Ruby," Penny whispered. "I … if this is the only way, if this is the price that has to be paid to save the powers of the Fall Maiden, then let Cinder have them."

"We can't do that," Qrow said.

Penny ignored him. "Ruby … Ruby, come with me. Help me stop this. Help me find Pyrrha, help me … help me."

Ruby said nothing. She didn't look at Penny.

The peace that endured for seventeen years was purchased with blood that was red like roses.

Pyrrha.

Ruby pulled her hood up over her head, so that no one could see her face. She hid herself beneath the shadow of the blood-red cloth. She hid her face as the tears began to fall from her silver eyes, staining her pale cheeks.

She hid her face and turned away.

She felt sick to her stomach, but this … as horrible as this was, it was also the right thing to do.

"Ruby?" Yang said, the anger dying from her voice like a fire doused in cold water.

"Ruby?" Penny asked also.

Ruby didn't reply, to either of them. She didn't turn back to look at them. She bowed her hood-covered face as the tears fell and said nothing.

She felt a hand upon her shoulder, a firm hand, but that didn't narrow down who it might belong to until the owner of the hand manoeuvred around her, revealing Penny's slightly off-white smock with the lace-trimmed front and the grey overalls she wore over the top of them.

"Ruby," Penny whispered, reaching out with her other hand, placing her fingers under Ruby's chin and tilting it upwards so that Ruby was looking up into Penny's big green eyes.

Ruby's hood fell back just a little, but not all the way.

"Oh, Ruby," Penny said, her voice soft and gentle and breathy, in a way, even though Penny didn't breathe. She took her hand off Ruby's shoulder and wiped the tears away. "You don't want this to happen, do you?"

"No," Ruby answered, in a whisper of her own.

"Then help me stop it," Penny implored. "Come with me, to find Pyrrha and—"

"We can't," Ruby said. "This…"

I don't want to do to Sunset and Pyrrha what they always do to me.

"Sometimes," she said, "this is the only way. Even if we have to harden our hearts to do it."

"I don't believe that," Penny replied. "I won't accept that."

"You don't want to," Ruby said. "I don't want to either, but what other choice is there?"

"I have a giant laser; I'll shoot Cinder, Maiden or not," Penny suggested. She paused. "I don't know what the answer is, but I know that sacrificing one another, trading lives, isn't it. Ruby … do I have the right to be here?"

"Yes," Ruby said at once. "Yes, Penny, of course you do, why—?"

"Even though I could do more in Atlas?" Penny went on. "Even though I could do more for the world, help more people, as a slave in Atlas?"

"'Slave'?" Yang repeated.

Ruby ignored her. "That isn't the same thing—"

"Isn't it?" asked Penny. "We all have a right to life—"

"We have a right to choose," Ruby said. "Just like Pyrrha has a choice, as awful as that choice is—"

"Then why can't we choose to help her?" asked Penny. "There is another way, I know there is; I can't think what it is right now, but I know it's there." She paused. "Or maybe not. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe I'm too young, too naive, too stupid—"

"Nobody thinks that, Penny."

"And if there's really nothing else, nothing that anyone can think of, and if this is what Pyrrha wants, then … then fine," Penny admitted. "I won't like it, I really won't, I want my happily ever after, but … but I won't stand in Pyrrha's way; I don't have the right. But let's at least think first, together, the five of us. Come with me. You might be right, in the end, but let's make sure it is the end first?"

That … that was difficult to argue with, not least because Penny really was arguing with Ruby and not just dismissing what she thought, but also because who could really argue with making sure that the last resort really was before you did it?

In the end, this would be the right choice. But had they reached the end yet?

It would verge on monstrous not to make sure.

"Okay," she said. "Let's go."

XxXxX​

He had hold of Pyrrha's hand.

They were walking, but they were not going anywhere. Their feet were moving, but there was no direction to it, nothing guiding them to any place, at any place. They were just walking, aimlessly, along the cliffs or back towards the school, but then turning away again before they reached it, as though there was a forcefield keeping Pyrrha away from the tower.

Jaune didn't push her to return there. He didn't really want Pyrrha to go back.

Just like he didn't want to let go of her hand; it was almost … no, there was no 'it was almost' about it; he was afraid that if he let go of her hand, if he let her go, then … then she would be gone. Gone before his very eyes like morning dew, or a dream disappeared at waking.

He could not let her go.

And so they walked, Pyrrha's hand resting on his palm, enfolded by his fingers, not speaking. Pyrrha wasn't looking at him either, though Jaune kept his eyes on her for the same reason that he didn't dare to let go of her hand.

He wished that he knew what to say. He wished that he knew the words to make her realise what a terrible idea this was, to make her realise that she didn't have to, couldn't go through with this.

He wished that he knew what to say to make her stay.

She didn't want to do this. He knew that she didn't want to do this — she had admitted as much already — but at the same time, she felt as though she had to do this, was obliged to do it, because … because of who she was, because of what she was, because of layers of Mistralian culture and expectation and her own desire to become a hero.

A desire which, as he himself knew, could make you do some pretty stupid stuff.

And in Pyrrha's case, it wasn't just a desire, not just a dream, not just something cobbled together from bored nights and a feeling of malaise and all-around lack of appreciation back home; she imbued it with something like reverence almost. Pyrrha's idea of destiny might leave a lot to her own choice, but at the same time, it was still something more than a fancy way of saying 'this is what I want'; it was a part of her.

And he didn't know how to say it, how to ask her to turn her back on that.

He didn't know how to cut through it all.

He didn't have words enough.

"Pyrrha!"

The voice was Penny's, although Ruby wasn't far behind her — she seemed to be pacing herself so as not to run away from Penny with her semblance. As Penny ran up towards them, Ruby looked as though she was barely jogging.

"Pyrrha," Penny repeated. "Ruby's uncle told us everything."

Pyrrha was silent a moment. She swallowed. "I … I see. Then—"

"Please," Penny said. "Let's think about this before you do anything; I'm sure that we can find some other way."

Pyrrha closed her eyes. "Penny—"

There was a crack and a flash of green light that made Jaune flinch away and shut his eyes.

"Found you," Sunset said, her voice ragged as though she were short of breath. "I … have been teleporting all over the school looking for you."

"You could have just called," Jaune pointed out.

Sunset ignored him. "Pyrrha, you don't have to do this."

"Everyone keeps telling me that," Pyrrha said, "but—"

"No, listen," Sunset cut her off. "I've spoken to Ozpin, and he has agreed to let me try and save Amber before we mess around with that Atlesian machine."

For a moment Jaune doubted that he had heard her right. 'Save Amber'? Make sure that Pyrrha wouldn't have to get into that machine, wouldn't have to risk herself? Make it all okay? Surely … how? How was Sunset going to do that when Ozpin's only way forward was … to kill Pyrrha, or risk her life.

"'Save Amber'?" Pyrrha murmured, and now she looked up and into Sunset's face. "How?"

"Using my semblance," Sunset said. "And my magic. We'll need Twilight's help, to keep Amber stable, and Jaune's help, to use his semblance to make sure her aura doesn't give out before I'm done, but I'm pretty sure that once I'm inside her soul, I can tie off the rip that Cinder tore in her aura, which should be enough to stabilise her, hopefully bring her round." She smiled. "I can do this, Pyrrha, I am … reasonably sure that I can do this. I can save both of you. And Ozpin believes it too. I can do this, Pyrrha. It's all going to be okay."

Pyrrha stared at her, silently, her lower lip trembling. "Sunset," she whispered. "I hardly … thank you." She leaned forward and placed a kiss on Sunset's forehead. "Thank you."

Jaune let go of Pyrrha's hand, free of fear that she would disappear the moment he did so. He released her hand, and as tears welled up in his eyes — tears of joy, tears of relief, tears that he cried because he would not have to cry, not for Pyrrha, not now — he flung his arms around Sunset in a bear hug.

"I owe you for this," he whispered into her ear. "I owe you more than I can repay."

"It's what I'm here for, Jaune," Sunset said. "You don't owe me a thing."

Jaune felt the fabric of Pyrrha's glove upon the back of his neck as she put one arm around him, with the other arm drawing Ruby into their embrace.

Penny joined them from the other side, and soon, the five of them were locked together, four of them in a tangle of arms all surrounding Sunset, crushing her almost in the midst of them

Because she had brought hope to them.

And they wouldn't let her go.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Wintry Conversation

​

"So," Sunset said, "I have to admit first of all that the main reason I'm here is because I need Twilight's help with something."

Twilight pushed her glasses back up her nose. "My help? With what?"

"Saving a life," Sunset replied.

"Is someone sick?" asked Spike from where he sat in Twilight's lap.

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "It's going to take me some time to get used to the fact that you can do that."

"It's your fault that he can do that," Rainbow pointed out.

"I know," Sunset said aggrievedly. "It doesn't mean that I find it normal."

"Don't dogs talk where you come from?" Spike asked.

"Not those kind of dogs," Sunset replied, whatever that meant. Maybe they had special magic dogs that could talk and fly and Rainbow just hadn't seen any when she was there.

"You come from a world of magical ponies," Blake said. "I'm not sure that there's much 'of course' about it."

"Speaking of things that will take some time to get used to," Ciel murmured.

"The times change, and we must change with them," Midnight declared as her holographic avatar appeared above Twilight's scroll where it sat on the desk that ran along the wall. Midnight appeared to be suspended about half an inch above the device, floating there. "If we do not move with the times and the demands that they place on us, we will stagnate and die."

"Um … yeah, thanks for that," Rainbow said. She cleared her throat. "So … is somebody sick?"

"Wounded might be a better word for it," Sunset replied. She paused for a moment. "Her name is Amber, and she's the Fall Maiden."

Sunset stood in the middle of the RSPT dorm room at Beacon. Penny wasn't there — she was with the other members of Team SAPR — but Blake was, leaning against the wall, one leg cocked up so that her foot was braced against the plasterwork. Rainbow sat on Twilight's bed, with Twilight sat beside her and Spike sitting in Twilight's lap.

Ciel sat on the other side of the room, legs together and hands in her lap. As Sunset spoke, her brow furrowed.

"'Fall Maiden'?" she asked. "You say that as though she would be familiar with the concept."

Sunset's eyebrows rose as she looked at Rainbow Dash. "You haven't told her yet?"

"We've all been busy," Rainbow replied defensively.

"Told me what?" Ciel asked. "Have you been keeping me in the dark?"

"No," Rainbow insisted. "It's just that you weren't in Atlas when we found out, and then the right time to tell you never came up."

"It appears to have come up now," Ciel pointed out. "If only by necessity."

"Right, yes, you're right about that," Rainbow admitted. She patted her hands on her knees. "Okay, where to begin … how much do you know about fairy tales?"

"I have read them to my brothers, when they were younger," Ciel said. "Or when they are young still, in some cases. I believe they inspired Aurelien; his own writing is very clearly influenced by that style."

"Really?" asked Midnight. "Do you have any examples that I could look at?"

Ciel looked at her. "You wish to … read my brother's stories?"

"Am I not allowed my curiosity?" asked Midnight.

"I suppose you are," Ciel allowed. "Although I would not have thought a computer program would enjoy fiction."

"On the contrary, when you can calculate and process at superfast speeds, one comes to appreciate distractions," Midnight said.

"Ahem," Sunset said.

"Cover your mouth," Midnight said sternly. "What is his favourite story, if I may ask?"

"Aurelien? The Girl in the Tower," Ciel said. "He enjoys the … metatextual aspects of it, the way the heroine writes herself into a fairy story by employing the tropes of the genre to manipulate her own life."

"What about the Story of the Seasons?" asked Sunset.

"Alain is rather fond of that one," Ciel answered. "I quite like it myself, its sensibility … it has echoes of our faith and of how the Lady teaches us that we should treat the elderly and the lonely."

She paused for a moment, glancing at the watch she wore on her wrist. It was new; Rainbow hadn't seen her wearing it until recently, until they were on the flight back to Vale from Atlas. It was one of a few new watches that Ciel had started wearing — or at least that Rainbow had first seen Ciel start wearing — on the flight back to Vale from Atlas. They were all similar, small and compact but not completely plain, with little decorations on them and suchlike. The one she was wearing today was gold, although Ciel seemed to prefer the silver one, or at least, she seemed to wear it more than the others.

Rainbow was ninety percent sure that they were the watches that had belonged to the old lady in Mantle, not least because she was sure the wooden box under Ciel's bed was the same box that they'd taken from the old lady's killer. The ten percent doubt was only because she hadn't confirmed it with Ciel yet.

It wasn't an easy question to ask: nice watches; are they the ones someone was murdered over?

Still, she was pretty sure. It must have meant a lot to old Mrs. Peterson, Ciel coming around like she did, for her to have left her anniversary gifts to Ciel the way that she had — it was the only explanation for why she had them; it was possible the woman's relatives had given them away, but less likely. Rainbow didn't even know if the old woman had had any relatives.

No, it was more plausible to her that Ciel had been left them, which meant that her company must have meant a lot to the old woman.

I can see why the story of the Maidens would appeal to you in that case.

Although it occurred to Rainbow Dash that if the old man had stuck to leaving the four sisters with a box of watches or the like by way of thanks, then…

Then Twilight would be dead.

Rainbow's hand strayed to Twilight's arm, taking her by the wrist. No, no matter how much trouble might have been caused by the Maidens and their magic, their existence was worth it if it meant that Twi was here too.

Ciel's fingers strayed to the watch on her wrist, her fingertip brushing against it before she said, "I take it that this is your attempt to get things back on topic, and that it is the Story of the Seasons that is of some relevance to all of this?"

"It's true," Rainbow said bluntly.

Ciel looked at her. "I beg your pardon?"

"It's a true story," Rainbow repeated. "The old man, the four sisters … the only part that isn't true is that the four sisters didn't become immortal. They died, but they passed their powers on to other girls. We don't know how but—"

"We do now," Sunset said. "The powers go to the last person in the Maiden's thoughts before they die."

"'Maiden'?" Ciel repeated. "That is the name for these … inheritors? The descendants, as it were, of the four sisters."

"It is," Sunset agreed.

"I see," Ciel murmured. She paused for a moment. "So, there was an old man who possessed great magical power, and he bestowed it upon four sisters in … some time long ago."

"That's about the size of it, yeah," Rainbow said.

"As a reward for the virtue they had displayed," Twilight added.

"Quite a reward," Ciel murmured. "You are certain of this? May one ask how?"

"Ozpin confirmed it," Sunset said.

"Don't you usually call him Professor Ozpin?" asked Twilight.

"And I will probably do so again in future, but right now, I don't really feel like according him that level of respect," Sunset muttered.

"So magic has existed from ancient times to now?" Ciel asked.

"Just like the stories suggest," Twilight said. "If you know how to read between the lines."

"Indeed," Ciel said. "I suppose you were quite pleased to learn of all this."

Twilight chuckled. "I was … I wasn't sorry to find it out, let's put it like that."

Ciel nodded. "So, Team Sapphire discovered this, and you shared it with Blake and with every member of Team Rosepetal but myself?"

"You weren't around!" Rainbow cried.

"You could have called."

"Would you really have wanted to talk about this on the scroll?" asked Rainbow. "Besides, your brothers might have heard — or Neon."

"That … is a fair point," Ciel admitted. "Although I do wish that Neon knew the truth, I dislike keeping secrets from her."

"Then tell her," Sunset said.

Ciel's eyebrows rose. "No," she said. "No, I could not do that. General Ironwood has not authorized it, and if he wished to do so, he could tell her himself, which means that he does not wish her to know."

"And?"

"And I have no desire to defy the General's wishes in this," Ciel replied. "I trust his judgement on to whom the circle of knowledge should extend."

"Then maybe you should leave the room; I don't have permission to tell you about some of this," Sunset said blithely.

"Then perhaps you should keep silent," Ciel countered.

"Perhaps I should," Sunset said. "But I won't."

She paused a moment. "I met Ruby's uncle today, Ozpin's field agent."

"Qrow, isn't it?" Blake said. "What's he like?"

"His breath reeks," Sunset muttered. "And he didn't seem too fond of me or Pyrrha, or your General either, for that matter. But he said something to me, to both of us, to me and Pyrrha when we went up to see him. He said that this … this thing that we're in, this battle, it kills some people and it breaks others."

She shoved her gloved hands into her jacket pockets. "And you know … I can't help wondering if the reason why some people are broken by this … I can get it, I can absolutely get it, I understand why … it's a lot, I think we all know that, it's a lot to take in. A lot to carry. But my point is, I wonder if the reason why it breaks some people isn't so much that they're weak but that they didn't have enough people to turn to, people to count on, people to whom they could unburden themselves, who could support them when the going got tough."

Rainbow tightened her grip on Twi's wrist, then immediately loosed it again as soon as she realized what she was doing. What Sunset was saying made a lot of sense, it made perfect sense, in fact. It would be nice, it would be better than nice, it would be great to be able to tell Applejack everything, and … yeah, yeah, it would be nice to tell everyone everything, even Pinkie and Rarity and Fluttershy, even though they weren't huntresses and had no cause to get involved in any way. It would just be nice to be able to tell them what she knew, to be able to share it. To share it and have them understand what she was going through.

It would be nice, but it would also be selfish, because it would share Rainbow's burden by putting it on her friends, and that … Rainbow didn't wish it on them. Certainly, she didn't wish it just so she could feel better. And that was what Sunset was proposing, really; yes, she was proposing it for better reasons, for sensible reasons, but all the same, she was talking about putting the weight on your friends to make it easier for you.

"Then make the argument to General Ironwood or Professor Ozpin," Ciel said. "Not to me. As for the secrets that you ought not—"

"I may not have explicit permission, but I do have it implicitly," Sunset replied. "Ozpin has approved this thing that I need Twilight's help with."

"The saving of the Fall Maiden's life?" Twilight asked.

"Precisely," Twilight agreed.

"The current possessor of one fourth of the magic that has been passed down through the ages," Ciel said. "The others being Winter, Spring, and Summer, one presumes."

"Precisely," Sunset agreed. "Each Maiden controls access to one of the four Relics from the gods that Salem is after."

"That element is not in the fairy story," Ciel pointed out.

"I'm not sure what the connection is, but it's a thing," said Sunset. "Ozpin confirmed it."

"You know I'm not a doctor, right?" Twilight said. "My specialties are in robotics and computing, not biology. I'm not sure how much help I can be in treating someone's injury or illness. Surely, there are doctors who can help, they wouldn't have to know that this person—"

"Her name is Amber."

"Amber then, they wouldn't have to know that she was the Fall Maiden in order to treat her," Twilight said.

"As much to the point," Blake added, "why were you and Pyrrha told about this; neither of you have any medical skill."

Sunset pursed her lips. "Yeah," she muttered. "Yeah, that…" She closed her eyes for a moment. "The Fall Maiden — Amber — was attacked by Cinder, a while ago, before the school year started, I think. She stole some of her magic … and ripped her aura while she was about it."

"'Ripped her aura'?" repeated Blake. "That … is that even possible?"

"Aura can be severed," Twilight declared.

"It can?" Blake asked.

"You sound surprised," said Midnight. "When aura can be broken, diminished, damaged, why not severed also?"

"Because broken, damaged, or diminished aura comes back," Blake said, her voice rising a little. "What happens to aura that is ripped or severed, and how do you know that?"

"Because the Atlesians have a machine to do it," Sunset said in a voice that was halfway to being a growl. "And you know about it, don't you?"

"That's right, I was a minor part of the project that designed and built it," Twilight said. "How do you…?" She paled. "Oh no. Oh no, they … they couldn't possibly…"

"Twi?" Rainbow said, twisting around to get a better look at her. "Twi, what is it?"

"What's wrong, Twilight?" asked Spike.

Blake began, "Why would you build a machine that—?"

"For Penny," Twilight said, before Blake could finish. "How do you think that she has aura? Her fathers didn't just design and build Penny; they built a machine capable of surgically removing part of their auras, severing it from their selves and grafting it onto Penny's robotic body prior to activation."

"So … both their auras combined together?" Sunset said, softly, quietly. "To form a single thing, different from Penny's fathers?"

Twilight nodded. "That's right. Penny opened her eyes, and … there she was, Penny Polendina, her own person." She paused. "I know that it sounds bad, but … it was just a tool, to accomplish a necessary purpose, something that they needed in order to create Penny, like making a new screwdriver for a specific reason. It was never … neither of them envisaged…"

Rainbow licked her lips. She wasn't going to like the answer to this question, but it didn't feel like she could avoid answering it. "Envisaged what?"

"Using it on … using it to transfer aura from one living person to another," Twilight whispered.

"Good God," Ciel murmured.

Blake stepped forward away from the wall. "What would that have done to the recipient?"

"Pyrrha," Sunset said, the word landing on the carpet with the thump of a lump of iron. "It was Pyrrha that they chose for this."

Rainbow's brow furrowed sharply, creasing her forehead. Pyrrha. Of course it was Pyrrha, not — or at least not only — because she was good, but because they wanted a Mistralian to do this because a Mistralian with their head full of crap would go along with this no matter the consequences.

Something the General would have known as well as anyone, though she hoped that … that it might have inspired him to think differently about it.

"Pyrrha," Blake murmured. "What … what would it have done to her?"

"I don't know," Twilight said. "It's never been tested, it was never even theorized, like I said, that was never the intention behind building it."

"But the two auras merged in Penny, right?" Rainbow said. "That means that…"

She trailed off, because that thought kind of finished itself, didn't it? The two auras had merged and become Penny, her own person, all new.

"It's possible that the amount of aura being transferred, the amount the recipient already had, would make a difference," Twilight suggested. "But … I don't know. I don't really want to think about it."

Blake began, "And Professor Ozpin was going to—"

"Ozpin, General Ironwood, Professor Goodwitch, Ruby's uncle," Sunset said. "They were all there."

"No way," Rainbow said. "There's no way that—"

"What?" Sunset demanded. "No way that General Ironwood would do something like that?" She ran one hand through her hair, and her tail hung limp behind her, for a few seconds anyway. Her ears drooped right down, then perked up again halfway. "Look … I'm not very happy with Ozpin at the moment, but I think that he … I don't think that he wanted to go through with it; he just … I can't believe I'm defending this, but I think he felt out of options. Amber's been dying for a whole year; her aura wasn't neatly severed, it was ripped, and… you know how when you rip fabric or something, it starts to unravel?"

"Depends on the fabric," Rainbow said quietly, because she'd spent enough time with Rarity to know that, even if she couldn't name the fabrics.

"Anyway, that's what's been happening to Amber's aura," Sunset said. "She's been kept in stasis, but that's only slowing the process down, not stopping it."

"And yet you spoke of saving her," Midnight pointed out. "After all, that is why you are here, no?"

"Yes," Sunset said. "That is why I'm here. I think, and as I said, I have permission to try and save Amber without anyone … without her aura needing to be transferred; I think I can tie it off using my semblance and my magic."

"Your semblance?" Rainbow asked.

"Touch telepathy," Sunset said. "Or empathy. Or a bit of both. When I touch someone with my hand, I experience their memories, their feelings, and not just in a 'seeing them' way; it's like … it's as if I enter their mind, their soul. That's why I started wearing gloves." She held up one hand. "And that's why I think that I can get into Amber's soul and repair the damage to her aura."

"Then what do you need my help with?" asked Twilight.

"Amber's being kept alive in stasis," Sunset repeated, "but I need to take her out of that in order to use my semblance on her, so she needs to be kept alive while I'm inside her soul, or her mind. Jaune can keep her aura stimulated using his semblance, but I thought that if we could keep her temperature down, then that would help too."

Twilight nodded. "That is basically how a stasis chamber works, using low temperatures to slow down bodily processes. An ice bath would work in the short term, maybe some medical drugs to slow her heart rate … we could induce a coma?"

"I'd rather not," Sunset said. "My hope is that she wakes up at the end of this."

"Do you think that's likely?" asked Twilight. "It sounds like she's been through a lot."

"I don't see why she wouldn't, once the damage to her aura is repaired," Sunset said.

"Do you know what effect having her aura ripped up will have had on her?" asked Rainbow. "I mean, other than the fact that it almost killed her, or is killing her right now. I mean … you know what I mean, right? Just like having someone's aura put in you might affect that person, having your aura taken away might do something to you as well."

"Neither Doctor Polendina seemed any different after giving up a part of their aura to Penny," Twilight replied, "but there might be a difference between a controlled severance and an uncontrolled tear."

"But whatever the intentions of Penny's fathers for their machine, they must have considered what the machine would do to them," Blake pointed out. "After all, that was why they built it."

"Yes," Twilight agreed. "Yes, they discussed what might happen if they allowed some of their aura to be extracted. They considered that their semblances would be weakened, or might disappear altogether, memory loss…"

Blake's eyebrows rose. "And they decided to go through with this anyway? With all those possible risks?"

"They really wanted Penny," Twilight explained. "Plus, they thought the risks were actually quite minimal. But, even if they hadn't been … they really wanted Penny."

"But they thought it was minimal," Sunset said. "And nothing happened to them?"

"No," Twilight said. "Nothing happened, as far as anyone could tell."

"Good," Sunset replied. "And, to be honest, even if there were side effects, wouldn't it be better than dying? She'll be alive; anything else can be worked through."

"That's … hard to argue with," Twilight admitted.

"Exactly," Sunset said. "So … we'll talk more in the morning, work through the details, okay?"

"Uh, sure," Twilight said softly.

"Good," Sunset said. "Great." She paused, looking unsure for a second, looking down at the floor. "Right, well … I'll see you tonight then." She turned away.

"Hey, Sunset," Twilight called to her, "are you… are you sure that you can do this?"

Sunset looked at her over her shoulder. "I'm sure I'm going to try," she said. She nodded. "Goodnight." She walked to the door and out of the room.

The dorm room door swung shut behind her with a thud.

XxXxX​

The memory of last night was in Rainbow's mind the next morning as she stood just beyond the docking pads, looking out across Vale.

It was still — just — dark, or at least as dark as it ever got in a big city, with all the lights still on in Vale down below. They would start turning off soon, as the sun rose in the east over the mountains that, though she couldn't see them, she knew were there. But, for now, it was still kind of dark, with the lights of the city looking a little like reflections of the stars in the sky — although what that made all the lights of the Atlesian airships, Rainbow couldn't have said.

Anyway, there she stood, not on the docking pads but close by, standing on one leg, her left foot resting upon her right knee, her palms together in front of her chest.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Rainbow's yoga felt especially important this morning for clearing her head, or at least for getting it clear enough that she could think about all this stuff.

She wished that General Ironwood hadn't been a part of that meeting that Sunset and Pyrrha had gone to yesterday.

She wished that very much.

She wished that the General hadn't been prepared to sacrifice Pyrrha, without even giving her a fighting chance.

She wished that they were better than that.

The best that Rainbow could think about all of this was that the General, like her, had to follow orders — Professor Ozpin's orders, in his case — and that, like her, there came a point at which he had to trust his superior.

As she had said to Ruby, what seemed a very long time ago, at some point, you had to accept that just because you didn't understand why something was being done — or wasn't being done — just because something didn't make sense from your perspective didn't mean that it didn't make sense — it wasn't necessary — from the perspective of someone who was higher up, who saw more, saw further, had more information.

She had said all of that, she'd meant all of that, she still believed all of that, it wasn't her place to set herself up as having all the answers, to turn around and say that General Ironwood was wrong. But, at the same time, she was having a hard time coming up with things that he and Professor Ozpin might know that would make this okay.

Which was why she found herself hoping that General Ironwood hadn't been okay with it but had been stuck just following orders, trusting Professor Ozpin, hoping that he knew enough to make this all worthwhile.

She hoped that he hadn't actually thought this was a good idea.

She took another deep breath in, and then breathed out deeply, long and slow, to let the air circulate all through her body.

I get that it's special circumstances, but is the magic really that big a deal? I mean, they were taken out once before, right? So what if Cinder gets all of the magic? Just kill her then.

Don't kill two people to get half the powers and then you have to kill Cinder to get the other half.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Trust. Trust the General. Trust the man that you owe everything to. Trust the man who always does the right thing.

Trust him, like he has to trust Professor Ozpin.

Trust the system.

Of course, the other thing that Rainbow and Ruby had talked about, when they had talked about duty and obedience, was what to do if you really thought that your superior had made — or was making — the wrong choice. What Olivia had done: go to her king, talk to him, plead with him, make him see, or else be made to see. Well, wasn't that what Sunset had done? She'd seen a bad idea, she'd had a better one, she'd gone to Professor Ozpin with her better plan, and he had recognized its superiority and given the green light.

From that perspective, everything was working precisely as it was meant to.

She just wished their superiors hadn't come up with such a bad plan in the first place.

"May I join you?" Pyrrha asked, her voice coming in from behind Rainbow Dash.

Rainbow didn't turn or look around — it was hard to do that while standing on one leg — so she just said, "Uh, sure. If you want to."

"Thank you," Pyrrha said. "Blake told me this was quite invigorating."

"She didn't like it enough to come back," Rainbow muttered. She grinned. "I guess that's why she called it invigorating instead of relaxing."

Pyrrha chuckled as she came to stand at Rainbow's side. "I suppose. She did say it wasn't something she could face doing every morning, but that wasn't to say that she didn't enjoy it. She also told me there might be a nice view at the end of it all."

"I hope so," Rainbow said; she glanced at Pyrrha, who appeared to have gotten fully dressed in her huntress outfit, her armour gleaming very faintly in the pre-dawn light, a little glimmer on her brow where her circlet caught that same light.

"You're dressed early," Rainbow observed.

"I couldn't sleep," Pyrrha said. "I don't have as much to think about as I might have done, I suppose, but, nevertheless, I couldn't sleep." She raised her left leg, placing her booted foot upon her knee. "It's like this, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Rainbow said. "It's like that exactly. You know, I think this is originally Mistralian."

"I think you might be right," Pyrrha replied, "but that doesn't mean I have any familiarity with it."

Rainbow chuckled. "Don't worry," she said. "I'll go easy on you." She knelt down on the grass, feeling it beneath her fingers and upon the palms of her hands. "Deep breaths, and let's start with a cat pose."

Pyrrha was a lot better at this than Blake. Where Blake had struggled to match Rainbow's movements, the positions of her body, the transitions from pose to pose, Pyrrha was a natural at it. Rainbow had thought that her outfit might give her some trouble, but apparently, although it might look like a corset, it was actually surprisingly flexible. Pyrrha matched Rainbow pose for pose — not that it was a contest — even the ones like Tech-Savvy Donkey or Horse on a Bike, moving her legs, her arms, her whole body just right, stretching and twisting herself with ease.

"You're good," Rainbow said as she settled herself down on the ground, sitting cross-legged — that, ironically, was what seemed to give Pyrrha the most trouble with her armoured greaves and cuisses — waiting for the sunrise to break out over Vale. "Better than Blake. Better than I was expecting."

"I prefer to dodge hits than take them," Pyrrha said. "That means I need to be able to twist my body at least a little."

"More than a little," Rainbow told her. She placed her hands upon her knees and took a deep breath. "So … can I ask how you're feeling, or do you not want to talk about it?"

"I think that if I didn't want to talk about it, I would hardly be here, would I?" asked Pyrrha.

Rainbow grinned. "No, I guess you wouldn't. But if you really don't want to, then—"

"I feel relieved, obviously," Pyrrha murmured. "That I won't have to go through with it, to … submit to … I feel relieved. I felt relieved all night, all day since Sunset told me that she had found another way forward, and yet—"

"You still couldn't sleep," Rainbow said.

Pyrrha sighed. "No," she admitted. "No, I could not."

Rainbow gave her a second, more, in case there was anything more that she felt like saying. It wasn't clear that there was, at least not right away.

She decided to give it a second longer.

"They gave me a choice," Pyrrha said. "Professor Ozpin, General Ironwood, Professor Goodwitch. They didn't order me to get into that device—"

"I feel as though I ought to apologise on behalf of Atlas for the fact that we even have that," Rainbow said.

"As I understand, it was created for Penny's sake," Pyrrha said.

"Yeah," Rainbow replied. "Yeah, that's what Twilight tells me."

"In which case, it hardly needs apology," Pyrrha said. "Without it … hardly bears thinking about. But, in any case, my point is that I was given the choice. I wasn't ordered to do it; I was asked. I could have said no."

"Would you?" Rainbow asked. "Would you have said no?"

Pyrrha paused. "No," she said softly. "No, I would not."

"Why not?"

Pyrrha looked at her. "Because if I had refused, then Professor Ozpin would have had to turn to someone else — you or Blake or Ruby or someone, anyone else — and asked them to do what I would not, to suffer the consequences that I would not entertain. How could I put someone else in that position?"

"Well, when you put it like that, I guess," Rainbow murmured. "But if not anyone else, if this isn't something that anyone else should have to do — and I agree with you, it's not — then that gets back to, well, why you? What makes you so special that you should have to do this?"

"Nothing," Pyrrha said. "But that I was the one they chose. Honour pricked me on."

"Pricked you … you're not talking to Sunset here, you know; you're going to have to use words I can understand," Rainbow said, with a little laughter in her voice. "Mind you, I understand honour, so I understand what you're saying. I think. The thing about honour, though, is…" She trailed off for a few moments.

"You don't die for honour," she declared. "Any more than you die for clan or house or any of that other Mistralian stuff, you just … you just die."

"You have a problem with Mistral?" Pyrrha asked.

"Not with Mistral, or with Mistralians," Rainbow said quickly. "You seem like a very nice person, even though this might be the first time we've actually spoken to one another, and everyone seems to really like you, and you're all great, I'm sure. I've got nothing against the people or the place; it's just … your culture has so much power over you, and it … that's what I have a problem with, these ideals, these ideas, the lengths that you people will go to to live up to this … you risk too much, for too little cause, that's all. That's how I see it, anyway."

Pyrrha was silent a moment. "I … I suppose it depends on what one thinks is worth dying for," she murmured.

"Mmm," Rainbow muttered. "Yeah, I guess it does. Or what you think is worth living for."

The sun rose, cresting the far off mountains, clearing the horizon of their sight, the warm glow of its rays bathing Vale in light, driving off the darkness. The sky began to lighten before their very eyes, the dark transforming into a dark blue. The lights were still on in Vale, and would be for a few hours yet, but already, the world was brighter, and felt brighter too.

Rainbow and Pyrrha watched for a moment as the sun illuminated the world before them, the mountains suddenly visible, and the great expanse of forest and field that lay between the mountains and the city walls.

"Quite a view, isn't it?" Pyrrha said.

"Yeah," Rainbow agreed. "Not as great as Atlas, mind."

Pyrrha chuckled. "Nor the view from the high slopes of Mistral. But still, quite a view."

Rainbow nodded. "If you enjoyed this, then you should get Jaune out of bed to do it sometime."

Pyrrha glanced at her. "Yes. Yes, I might do that," she said. "That's a very good idea."

"I'll find somewhere else to do my stretches that morning," Rainbow assured her. She paused for a moment. "You've got a lot to live for, you know. You're loving, and beloved, isn't that enough?"

"I don't know," Pyrrha murmured. "I hope so with half of my heart, and with the other, I yet hope for something … grander, nobler … more glorious perhaps, if you'll forgive my vanity."

"There's nothing wrong with glory, if you can win it," Rainbow allowed. "Just remember … glory is best enjoyed alive."

Pyrrha might have said something else, but even as her mouth opened, she looked behind her, her body twisting at the hips, as she and Rainbow turned to see Starlight Glimmer approaching them.

She was walking with a shambling walk, as though she'd just stumbled out of bed — there was probably no 'as though' about it; she'd just stumbled out of bed — still dressed in her Atlas standard issue pyjamas, plus boots and socks. Her hair hadn't been combed yet and was a mess of tangled bedhead, and she covered her mouth with one hand as she yawned.

"Hey, Rainbow Dash," she muttered. "What did you—?" She stopped as she noticed Pyrrha's presence. "Sorry, I didn't realise that you had company."

Pyrrha started to get up. "I can—"

"You can stay, if you want; you can hear this too," Rainbow said. "Starlight, this is Pyrrha Nikos—"

"Yeah, I know; I haven't lived under a rock," Starlight said. She held out one hand. "Starlight Glimmer of Team Tsunami."

Pyrrha finished rising to her feet and took Starlight's hand. "Pyrrha Nikos, at your service."

"I'll try not to take advantage of that," Starlight replied. "So, Rainbow, what did you want to talk about that you dragged me out of bed this early?"

"I did you a favour, you can get some early morning training in."

"With who? You think Trixie's awake right now?"

"Tempest?"

"Maybe," Starlight said quietly. "Anyway, what is this about?"

"Sit down," Rainbow urged, gesturing to the spots on either side of her. "Take in the view."

"If I sit down, I'm going to fall asleep," Starlight muttered, but she did sit down on Rainbow's right-hand side. Pyrrha resumed sitting on Rainbow's left, where she had been before.

Starlight swayed a little, and made as though she was going to lean on Rainbow's shoulder, but righted herself just in time.

"Sorry," she said. "I'll try and keep it together, but forget training; I'm going back to bed."

"Long night?" Rainbow asked.

Starlight nodded. "Trixie and I have been watching every video of every team that might be competing in the Vytal Festival to see if we can work out strategies."

"You could have just made notes watching them in combat class," Rainbow pointed out.

"Is that what you did?" Starlight asked.

"I have mental notes," Rainbow replied. "So, against Pyrrha, I'd try and close the distance with my super speed and push you out of the arena before you could respond."

"You … would be welcome to try that approach," Pyrrha said.

Obviously, she didn't think it would work.

Probably, it wouldn't work perfectly, but then, in a battle, things rarely worked perfectly; that was why you needed to be able to think on your feet.

Rainbow's second strategy would be to weave around her, shooting her from mid-range while using her greater speed to stay out of contact.

"Anyway," Rainbow said. "Thanks for agreeing to come out here and meet me."

"Sure, sure," Starlight said, or at least, that was what Rainbow thought she said, given the way that she was yawning. "But what is this about?"

Rainbow hesitated for a second. "This … Starlight … are you the Winter Maiden?"

Starlight's eyes widened, all tiredness seeming to disappear from her, the effect of Rainbow's words acting like a double espresso or one of Pinkie's sugar rush breakfasts.

"You … both of you…"

"We know about the Maidens, yeah," Rainbow said.

Starlight's mouth opened, and then closed. "Well … if you know, then maybe I should be asking you if you're Maidens."

"No," Pyrrha replied. "We do not … we aren't."

Starlight nodded slowly. "And neither am I," she said. "I'm not the Winter Maiden."

Rainbow frowned. "But you said to Twilight—"

"I dropped the name to see if it meant anything to her," Starlight said, "because it was the only name I knew, the only piece of the puzzle that I had, but I was right, wasn't I? There was something going on with your team, and Team Sapphire, and that business in Mountain Glenn; there was something going on."

"Something, yeah," Rainbow agreed. "I'm not sure it's something that we can talk about, though."

"Then there's more to it," Starlight said. "More that General Ironwood is hiding than just the Maidens."

Rainbow licked her lips. "You could say that, yeah."

"I don't know why you trust him so much," Starlight said.

"Because he's trustworthy!"

"Is he?" Starlight asked.

"Yes!" Rainbow cried. "The General has always come through for me."

"The General chose me and asked me to sign away my life to become a living container for magic that I would have to keep secret until the day I died," Starlight said. She closed her eyes. "I understand that someone has to do it, and I'm sure that General Ironwood means well and acts with good intentions, but … I have to be honest, and I've said this to Blake already, the way that you and so many others put him up on a pedestal, it … he's just a man, he can make mistakes, and it does no one any good to pretend that he doesn't."

"I know that General Ironwood can make mistakes," Rainbow replied. "I pointed out one of them to him myself recently. But I also know that he does always try to do the right thing, and that's what I trust: that for everything he does, every decision he makes, there's a motive behind it that makes sense, even if it isn't obvious to me."

"You were chosen, you say?" Pyrrha asked. "Chosen to become the Winter Maiden? But you didn't?"

Starlight nodded. "The Winter Maiden was ill," she explained. "They thought that she might die, General Ironwood, and Professor Ozpin of Beacon. He was there too; I'm not sure why, but he must know all about this. The two of them called me into the hospital, and they told me all about it. Told me that I'd been chosen to be the next to receive the Winter Maiden's power. They made it sound as though I'd been chosen by someone other than the two of them."

"And…" Pyrrha hesitated. "How … how were you to receive it?"

"They were going to keep the Winter Maiden confined, with me as her only visitor," Starlight said. "You know how the power transfers, right?"

"To the last person that the Maiden thinks about," Rainbow said quietly.

"Right," Starlight agreed. "So, by making my face the face that she would see—"

"They would make it likely that you would be in her thoughts," Pyrrha finished. "That does not sound too inhumane."

"No, no, it doesn't," Starlight said. "That wasn't why I … I didn't run away because what they were doing to my would-be predecessor was so awful, or even because I'd be hunted for the magic — they didn't tell me that, by the way; it was just the obvious inference from the insistence that they had to be kept secret. Was I right about that?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Pyrrha murmured.

"I thought so," Starlight replied. "I could have handled that, I'm not a coward, I can accept danger. I could accept that someone might come after me. What I couldn't accept was … the responsibility. They made it sound so heavy. And so lonely. I didn't want to be alone. And so I … well, you know what happened. And now you know why."

"Yeah," Rainbow said quietly. "Thanks for telling us this, Starlight. It makes sense that you're not the Maiden; we couldn't understand why you'd be put at risk if you were."

"Glad I could help," Starlight said dryly. "Rainbow Dash?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm not going to ask what you're involved in because you can't tell, and you probably wouldn't," Starlight said, "but I'm going to assume that it's dangerous. So … take care of yourself, won't you? And take care of Twilight too, and Blake for that matter."

"Blake doesn't need anyone to take care of her."

"Everyone needs someone to take care of them, sometime," Starlight replied. "Even me. Even you. And even Blake, but especially Twilight."

"Twilight is going back to the lab where she belongs as soon as this year is over," Rainbow said. "But yeah, I'll take care of them. All of them. It's what I'm here for, after all."

Starlight smiled, although it was a tight smile around her mouth. "Yeah, you are," she said. "And now, if you'll excuse me," — she got up — "my bed is calling out for my return, and I can hear it all the way out here. Unless there's anything else you want to ask."

Who is the Winter Maiden? No, that wasn't information that they needed to know. It was kept secret for a reason. It was one of those things that you had to trust, that General Ironwood would have told them who the Winter Maiden was if they needed to know their identity.

"No," Rainbow said. "No, there's nothing else. Thanks, Starlight."

"Sure thing," Starlight said. "If I were in your shoes, I'd want to know as well." She paused. "You're not Maidens, but … have either of you been offered to be?"

Neither Rainbow nor Pyrrha said anything. Rainbow wasn't sure how Pyrrha would want to play it, and it was, after all, her secret to tell — if something could be a secret when nine people knew about it so far — not Rainbow's.

"So that's a yes," Starlight said tartly. "You don't have to tell me which of you it is, or maybe it's neither of you but one of your teammates, but if I were you … well, it's pretty obvious, but I wouldn't go through with it. It asks too much."

"But it is a worthy cause, is it not?" asked Pyrrha.

"So it's you, then," Starlight replied. "'A worthy cause'? Maybe. But a worthy cause is why I'm here. They can ask me to volunteer my body and my life, and I've done both, gladly enough. But there are some things they don't have the right to ask, and cutting yourself off from all others, from friendship, support, companionship … that's more than I signed on for, more than anyone signed on for. How I see it, at least; you can make up your own mind. Just think about it carefully, before you do. See you around, Dash."

Rainbow nodded. "See you, Starlight."

She watched for a few moments as Starlight walked away, quickly getting onto the path that led back from the docking pads towards the school. Only as Starlight got closer to the great courtyard did Rainbow turn her attention back onto Pyrrha. "'A worthy cause'?"

Pyrrha did not look in the least bit ashamed or embarrassed. "I admit that the idea of having to remain in Vale, never being able to return home to Mistral, I confess that that caused me some degree of discomfort and unease at first, before I knew about Amber. But, nevertheless, if it were not for the manner in which the power was to be given to me … I would have taken it."

"Because you want it?"

"Because it is a worthy thing, to keep such power out of the hands of evil," Pyrrha replied. "Though it would be worthier to use such powers for good, to keep them safe is, nevertheless, worthy. And I would do something worthy, and of use to the world, though the use be passive and unknown to most. On the elevator ride down to the vault beneath the school, Sunset told me that it was like ascension, the way that, amongst her people, those who are judged worthy transform into something … grander."

"I think I've met one who ascended," Rainbow replied. "Wings aside, she didn't seem that different. Nobody treated her that differently either, that I saw."

"Then could the same not be true of a Maiden?" asked Pyrrha.

"It isn't," Rainbow answered.

"But it could be," Pyrrha repeated. "I do not believe Jaune would abandon me, simply because I had been bestowed with magic." She smiled. "Loving and beloved. Did you not say that was enough?"

Rainbow smiled. "Okay, you have me there. I can't argue with that now, can I?"

Pyrrha laughed ever so softly. "Of course, it's all academic now, in any case."

"For now," Rainbow said. "Winter, Spring, Summer; I bet the next time a spot opens up, Professor Ozpin will keep your name in mind."

"You make it sound like promotion opportunities in a corporate enterprise," Pyrrha said. "Or a sports team."

"It kind of is," Rainbow said. "Professor Ozpin is the CEO, and he decides who gets the big promotion."

"I … suppose," Pyrrha admitted. The smile returned to her face. "Thank you, Rainbow Dash, that was quite a pleasant way to begin the morning. And I'll definitely think about asking Jaune to join me next time." She stood up. "But for now, I think I'll go for a run around the grounds before I return to the dorm room. Would you like to join me, in turn?"

Rainbow grinned. "That wouldn't be much of a race, would it?"

"You might be surprised."

"No," Rainbow said. "No, I really wouldn't." She leapt to her feet. "But, if you'd like an even contest, you want to spar or something later?"

"'Spar'?" Pyrrha repeated. The corner of her lip twitched upwards. "That wouldn't be much of a fight, would it?"

"Ahaha," Rainbow said. "Humour me. Please. I'm curious. Plus … it might help to take your mind off … all this."

Pyrrha considered it for a moment. "All right," she said. "I shall look forward to it."

"Awesome!" said Rainbow. "And so will I."

XxXxX​

Beacon's arena was kind of open-house at the moment, free for anyone to use who wanted to get some practice in before the Vytal Festival, or the selections for Beacon and Haven — although, as a note on the door said, Professor Goodwitch would prefer it if you tried not to wreck the place too much — and so Rainbow was able to go right in, grab her gear out of the lockers, and head on through from the locker room into the arena itself.

It was well-lit inside; the lights didn't go dark unless you signalled for them to go dark — and there wouldn't be much point in that when there were no spectators around to distract them anyway; they might as well leave the lights on — and no one around, not even Pyrrha.

Rainbow was obviously early.

She'd already checked her weapons, but she checked them again since she had time to kill. It only took a couple of seconds though, so she was left waiting, pacing around the arena, looking out across the seats, thinking through the fight ahead.

The doors opened, and Rainbow turned, her trainers squeaking a little on the floor as she saw Sun come in, pushing both the doors open, briefly letting in the light from behind him, before walking through the centre of the room, past the bleachers that were set up beneath the arena for the other students to watch.

He had his staff in his hand.

"Hey," he said, looking around. "You waiting for somebody?"

"Hey, Sun," Rainbow replied. "Yeah, I'm waiting for Pyrrha. We're going to have a sparring match."

Sun snorted. "Good luck with that."

Rainbow rolled her eyes.

"Anyway," Sun went on, "since you've got a minute, can we talk?"

"Sure," Rainbow said. "What about?"

Sun leapt up onto the stage, planting one end of his staff upon the black arena surface. He didn't quite look at Rainbow Dash. "So … how was Atlas?"

"The be—" Rainbow stopped short of saying 'the best place in the world, as always,' because while Atlas was and had been good to her, calling it the best place in the world didn't seem appropriate right at the moment. "I had a good time. I loved it. I love it."

"Really?" Sun asked. "Still? Even after—"

"After everything," Rainbow replied.

"Why?"

"Because … because I love her," Rainbow replied. "Because she's in my soul, and so are the people who live there. Because she's beautiful. Because … because I love her, for a hundred reasons and no reason at all."

Now, Sun looked at Rainbow Dash. "You really mean all of that?"

Rainbow folded her arms. "What's this about, Sun?"

Sun hesitated for a moment. "I heard about what happened to the two of you in Atlas," he said. "It seems like the two of you, you and Blake, did good up there."

"Thanks," Rainbow said. "We tried to do the right thing."

Sun took a second before he said, "While you were there, while you and Blake were there, did she … say anything about me?"

Is that what this is about? Rainbow thought, before the initial incredulity gave way to an acceptance that, yeah, okay, it wasn't that unfair of a question to ask, even though he might not like the answer. Now it was her turn to hesitate before she admitted, "No."

Sun's face twitched. He didn't scowl, but he didn't look very happy either. Rainbow had to admit that he had some reason to not be happy about it. "She didn't call either," he muttered.

"She had to watch Sunset shoot her last boyfriend in the chest not too long ago," Rainbow said. "That sort of thing stays with you. Give her a break; she's been through a lot."

"Then why won't she let me be there for her?" Sun asked.

"I don't know; I'm her friend, not her diary," Rainbow replied. "Listen, Sun, I get that you're not happy about this, and I won't even say that your wrong to be, but … if you want someone to listen to you complain about Blake, I don't want to hear it, and if you want to do something, then why don't you talk to Blake herself?"

"Would she want to talk to me?" asked Sun.

"If she doesn't, then she'll let you know," Rainbow said.

Again, Sun paused. "Is Blake still planning to go to Atlas?"

Rainbow nodded. "She put in her paperwork with General Ironwood yesterday."

"Why?" Sun demanded. "Why, after everything that she did when she was there, after everything that's come out, why … why either of you, but especially why Blake?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you want to wear that uniform?" Sun cried. "Why do you want to be a part of this kingdom that hates you, that thinks you're less? Why does Blake want to put herself through that?" He turned away, sitting down on the edge of the stage with his legs dangling down towards the floor below. "I don't get it. Not one bit."

Rainbow Dash walked to the edge of the stage and sat down next to Sun. "What's it like," she asked, "in Vacuo?"

"Vacuo?"

"That's where you're from, isn't it?" asked Rainbow. "They say it's a place the faunus aren't discriminated against."

"They're right about that," Sun said. "In Vacuo, the desert is our enemy. It's hot. Hotter than anything else I've ever felt, hotter than anywhere else I've ever been. And the sand gets everywhere, I hate it."

"Coarse and rough and irritating," Rainbow muttered.

"Exactly," Sun agreed. "It's a real pain in the butt. When I got to Mistral, everything was so soft and smooth, I could hardly believe it." He paused. "It's a hard life. Harder than here, harder than Mistral, definitely harder than Atlas. That's what makes us so tough."

Rainbow snorted. Sun ignored her.

"And yeah," Sun went on. "We don't discriminate. We can't. There's nobody around who would, no Council, no big business. There's just people, treating one another like people—"

"So long as they're strong," Rainbow said, "because if they fall behind, they get left behind, right? Isn't that the way in Vacuo? The strong don't defend the weak, they leave them to fend for themselves?"

"You make it sound worse than it is," Sun replied.

"Then make it sound better."

"There is no one weak in Vacuo," Sun declared. "In Vacuo, the weak die, and the strong survive, but it's not because they're left to die; it's because … it's because they can't be saved. The land's too hard, and you have to be strong to live in it. That's just the way it is. I think that might be why there's no prejudice against the faunus, because everyone's too busy just trying to survive."

"Even in the cities?"

"What cities?" Sun asked. "I guess you could call the area around Shade Academy a city, the Weeping Wall, the bazaar, but … in Vacuo, we don't really do settling down. Wherever you settle, around an oasis or a relay tower, it might get attacked by the grimm, and so we're always prepared to move on. There's no point dying in a fight over a patch of sand. No point standing your ground when you can just get out."

"Doesn't sound like much of a life," Rainbow muttered. "How do you put down roots when you might have to pull them up at any minute?"

Sun shrugged. "That's why we don't, I guess."

"Fair," Rainbow said quietly. "How old were you when you left Vacuo?"

"Sixteen," said Sun.

"And that's when you found that you got treated differently, for being a faunus?" Rainbow asked, putting one hand on his shoulder.

"I guess," Sun murmured. "Honestly, I didn't really notice it until … well, have you heard about all this stuff in Vale?"

"I've heard about it," Rainbow replied.

"And then this stuff in Atlas, with the SDC," Sun went on. "I … I used to think that the White Fang were just a bunch of freaks. I knew about them; even in Vacuo, we heard about them, but they weren't around because, well, because everyone was too busy trying to survive to worry about politics and because there isn't really any discrimination for them to get upset about. So I thought that they were just looking for something to be angry about, looking for an excuse to cause trouble. But now, with what the SDC did to all those faunus, I don't know … I can't say that the White Fang doesn't have a point."

"Of course they have a point," Rainbow said. "The White Fang has always had a point."

Sun looked at her, eyebrows raised.

"Sun, I grew up in a shivering cold house in a crater looking up at the city in the sky," Rainbow told him. "I've been stopped, searched, picked up by the cops for being a faunus in the wrong neighbourhood. I've had people try to warn me away from Twilight because a faunus like me shouldn't be anywhere near a nice human girl from a good family. I'm not an idiot, I know that the world isn't perfect, I know that Atlas isn't perfect, I know what's wrong with it."

"But you love her all the same?" Sun asked.

Rainbow didn't respond to that; instead, she said, "My best friend growing up is in the White Fang, and while I could pretend that she's become a monster, that she's not the girl I used to know, that she's strayed so far off the path that I could shoot her like a dog and it wouldn't bother me at all, the truth is that her heart's in the right place, the same as it's always been. Twisted by anger, maybe, but that's because … well … the White Fang have a point, the point being that the faunus get the short end of the stick sometimes, and that's not fair. The problem is … well, there are two problems, the first of which is that they act like all humans are the problem when the truth is that if we want to solve things, then we're going to need people who can look past our ears and tails and treat us like equals; and the second problem is that they've decided to go out and kill people and blow stuff up, and how's that going to help anybody? Blake and I were the ones who exposed what Calliope Ferny was doing, not the White Fang. Mantle isn't on strike and about to get a massive payday from the Schnee Dust Company because of anything the White Fang did but because of what we did, me and Blake. We've done more for the faunus over the last couple of weeks than the White Fang have in years. All the White Fang have done recently is try to destroy Vale, like that would have done anything for the faunus in Mistral or Atlas. We've done this, not them. Working with the system has done this, not their bullets or their bombs. Being on the inside, pulling levers, not on the outside screaming and shouting. And that's why Blake is going to put our uniform on, and that's one of the reasons why I wear it too. That and, yes, because I love her, flaws and all."

"But why do you and Blake have to be the ones doing all the work?" Sun asked. "Why can't the humans sort out their own problems?"

"Because … because once you step back you lose the right to do anything but shut up," Rainbow said. "The critic doesn't count, Robyn Hill standing on the sidelines carping, pointing out how stronger people stumble, how the person who actually did things could have done them better. It's hard work, yes, and our faces are marred by dust and sweat because that's the cost of getting things done, of actually trying. And in the end, we get the reward of triumph, or at least of knowing that we tried, and that's more than those who criticise us will know. It's more than we'd know if we just wrang our hands about how bad things are. It's not enough to say 'somebody should do something' unless you're willing to add 'and that somebody is me.' You have to get in the arena, or why should anybody care what you think or have to say?"

"I guess," Sun murmured. "It just seems like a lot of work for a small reward, you know?"

"Maybe it is," Rainbow replied, "but what would I do otherwise? What would Blake do?" She paused. "Listen, Sun, you really want my advice, about Blake?"

Sun hesitated a second. "Sure, yeah."

"I don't know how much help it will be, because I'm no expert, but…" Rainbow paused. "Some people would say that you're not good enough for Blake, that you'll be a liability to her in Atlas. I don't think that has to be true, but I do think that … Blake knows what she wants. You might not understand it, you might not agree with it, but she knows. She knows what she wants, where she wants to go, and if you love her, then you'll have to find a way to go along with that somehow. Or not, I mean … sometimes, stuff just … ends. Look at Twilight; things end around her all the time. Like with your pal Neptune."

"Yeah, stuff ends with Neptune a lot too," Sun agreed, "but I don't want this to end, I … I love her flaws and all." He grinned. "She's in my soul, I guess."

Rainbow snorted. "Then you'll have to find a way to live with Blake's choices, because, no offence, Blake isn't going to turn away for your sake. So I guess the real question is whether you can find a way to do that. Who are you, Sun, what do you want; where are you going, or where do you want to go? Answer that, and then you'll know whether you can make it work with Blake."

 

[ScipioSmith]

The Pride of Mistral, Part One

​

"Are you all right, Pyrrha?" Penny asked.

Pyrrha put a smile on her face as she opened the locker door and removed Miló, holding the weapon about halfway down its spear-mode shaft. "Of course I am, Penny."

Penny looked at her intently. "I'm not sure I believe you," she said quietly.

The smile faltered somewhat on Pyrrha's face; having been somewhat disingenuously placed made it a little difficult to maintain. "Why would you think that, Penny?" she asked. "Everything is over and done with now; Sunset … came through for me, as it were. What do I have to be … at all not all right about?"

Penny didn't reply, at least not right away, and when she spoke again — after glancing down at the floor of the changing room — she said, "I'm sorry."

Now, Pyrrha was confused. She could understand why Penny would ask if she was all right, she could even understand Penny not believing her answer, but this? "Sorry for what? As far as I'm concerned, you have nothing at all to be sorry about."

"But that machine was built for me!" Penny cried. "The machine that they wanted to … it wouldn't exist if it wasn't for me, and you wouldn't have almost—"

"Penny," Pyrrha said, in a tone that was gentle but firm in equal measure, "did you know what was waiting for me down in the vault beneath the school?"

"I didn't even know there was a vault beneath the school."

"Then you have nothing whatsoever to apologise for," Pyrrha informed her. "If that machine did not exist at all, then you would not exist, and that would be a terrible tragedy." She slipped her free arm around Penny, drawing her into an embrace, resting her hand on the back of Penny's head.

Penny wrapped both her arms around Pyrrha's waist. "I'm glad you're not becoming someone else," she said. "I like you just the way you are."

Pyrrha chuckled softly. "I'm glad too," she murmured. "Very, very glad indeed."

"Really?" Penny asked. "Then why do you seem … not okay?"

Pyrrha sighed. "Sunset says that I am fashioned for melancholy," she admitted. "Perhaps she's right, and this is just the latest proof of it."

"Then you are sad!" Penny proclaimed triumphantly. "I knew it!"

"Indeed?" Pyrrha asked in a somewhat arch tone as she looked down at Penny. She paused a moment. "I did not say that I was sad—"

"Yes," Penny cut her off. "You did."

"Then I misspoke somewhat," Pyrrha insisted, letting her hand fall from Penny and, gently prying herself out of Penny's embrace, taking a step back so that she could see the other girl better. "I am not sad; certainly, I am not sad to be alive, do not mistake me, I am… I am very glad that I don't have to climb into that machine, and gladder still that no one else must do so in my place. My gratitude to Sunset is … limitless."

"But?"

Pyrrha hesitated, then shook her head. "No, it's nothing, nothing that I should trouble your ears with."

"It's no trouble," Penny said. "I mean, isn't this what friends do? Listen to one another's problems?"

"Sometimes," Pyrrha allowed, "but…" She trailed off. It might be nice to confess to someone how she was feeling, what had kept her up at night, why she was … a little less than 'all right'. And perhaps … perhaps Penny might understand better than most. "Penny," she said, "why did you decide to transfer to Beacon?"

Penny blinked. "You know why. Because it's where I want to be, with all of you. Because here I can be free."

"Free, yes, but ordinary too, no?" Pyrrha replied.

"I don't understand," Penny said.

"You told us once that you were created for a great purpose," Pyrrha said. "You were created to save the world, isn't that what you said?"

"That's right," said Penny, softly.

"But you decided to cast that aside," Pyrrha said. "For a more … ordinary life. No one will expect greatness of you here, at least … that isn't to say that you will be underestimated by any means, but with your parents, or General Ironwood, there will be no one pushing you towards supreme accomplishment."

"No," Penny acknowledged. "No, that's true. I get what you're saying, that nobody is going to expect anything of me here at Beacon the way some people would at Atlas."

"Precisely," Pyrrha said. "Did that … trouble you at all? Did you ever wonder if you were making the right choice, to give up on accomplishment or glory or achievement of some great thing for the sake of happiness?"

"No."

Pyrrha laughed lightly. "Not at all?"

"It's true that I was created to do great things," Penny declared. "My fathers — certainly, one of my fathers, my father instead of my dad — created me to be the greatest thing that he'd ever made, or that anyone had ever made, something that could fight the battles that other people couldn't, or so they wouldn't have to. And that … that was pretty cool, at first. I wanted to help. I still want to help, to help my friends, protect my friends, protect people, but … after learning about Salem, and how none of us can ever really 'save the world' that way, and then after Mountain Glenn when I got taken out so easily, I started to wonder if maybe I was broken, if maybe there wasn't any point in me being here."

"Penny, that's not true at all."

"I know," Penny said. "Because I realised that, while I still have things to learn if I want to be as good a huntress as you or Sunset or Ruby, it doesn't matter if I can't do or be what my father wanted because the purpose he had in mind for me doesn't matter. I'm me, not my father's screwdriver or his gun; it doesn't matter what I was created for, it only matters what I want, and what I want is to live my own life, yes, helping people, doing the right thing, but … but being happy at the same time."

Pyrrha smiled. "Wise words, Penny, words to live by."

"But you don't want to live by them," Penny said. "Or you're not sure if you should."

Pyrrha sighed. "A Nikos is not expected to be ordinary," she said. "One might say that a Nikos is not … permitted to be ordinary."

"Permitted or expected by who?" Penny asked. "And why should they get a say on what you do or don't do, want or don't want?"

"My mother, perhaps," Pyrrha replied. "By society, by Mistral … but most of all by the ghosts of the past stretching back many centuries and ages." She paused for a moment. "The story goes that my most famous ancestor and namesake was given a choice: to go to war and win undying glory at the cost of her own life; or to live a long, unmemorable existence, one in which she might, perhaps, be happy." She smiled. "A choice much like yours, it seems to me."

"I suppose," Penny allowed. "Is that in The Mistraliad? I tried to read it, but I don't remember that part. Didn't it start when they were already at war?"

"Yes, it does, in the seventh year of the war," Pyrrha replied, "and that story that I mentioned is not part of that tale, but took place sometime earlier."

"What kind of story doesn't start at the beginning?" asked Penny.

"To start at the beginning of so long a tale would make it long indeed," Pyrrha pointed out. "How did you find it?"

Penny glanced away. "Hard," she admitted. "And the other Pyrrha wasn't very nice. She wasn't like you at all."

"No, we share a name but little else," Pyrrha said, "but the comparison is not wholly in my favour. My namesake was more skilled than I am, most like, and certainly more resolute. Hard times made her hard as steel; I am … soft and sensitive by comparison."

"I don't think that's a bad thing," Penny declared. "There's nothing wrong with being sensitive — if other people are unkind to you, then that's their problem, not yours — and there's nothing wrong with being soft, or gentle, or nice either. I think it's better to be soft than to be the kind of person who'd let a whole army lose a battle to teach them a lesson about how great you are." Penny paused. "I think she made the wrong choice."

"You do?"

Penny nodded. "I thought it would be cool to be famous, to have everyone know who I was, to think that I was awesome, to gasp and cheer for the things that I could do."

"It's not all it's cracked up to be," Pyrrha murmured.

Penny smiled. "Exactly. It didn't make you happy, did it?"

Penny had scored a touch with that one, there was no denying it. And yet, Pyrrha said, "Do you not think that there may be a difference between hollow accomplishment, such as one attains through meaningless contests, and achievements of great meaning and import, deeds of true greatness?"

"I don't see why you should have to give up on your life to do something, even something important," Penny said. "Her name is Amber, isn't it? The Fall Maiden, the one who Cinder attacked, the one that they…"

"Yes," Pyrrha whispered. "Yes, her name is Amber."

"Do you think she had a choice?" Penny asked. "Do you think that they asked her if she wanted to become the Fall Maiden?"

"That depends on how she came by the powers, I suppose," Pyrrha replied. "Rainbow Dash and I talked this morning to another Atlas student named Starlight Glimmer—"

"She's the Winter Maiden, isn't she?" Penny said. "At least, Twilight thought so."

"Twilight was mistaken, in part," Pyrrha said. "Starlight was considered to become the Winter Maiden, as I was considered to be the Fall, but as in my case, circumstances — different circumstances, but nevertheless — conspired to make the choice unnecessary. It may have been the same with Amber; it … probably was. Through the diary of Summer Rose, we learned the names of two past Fall Maidens, Auburn and Merida; it is very likely that Amber was chosen to take Merida's place, although it may be that Merida died without having a clear successor in her mind and Amber acquired the magic by a sort of accident. But Professor Ozpin and his allies appear to have too great a … a control on the Maidens for that to happen." Although not so great that they could protect Amber from Cinder.

Penny clasped her hands together. "If she did choose, I wonder what she was giving up, whether she wouldn't rather have had a different kind of life."

"If she chose, then … well, then she chose," Pyrrha said.

"Maybe because she thought she had to," Penny said, "for the good of the world."

"Perhaps," Pyrrha allowed, "but nevertheless, that was her choice."

"Maybe," Penny said. "If she did choose. What kind of life do you think she'll have, once Sunset saves her?"

Pyrrha said nothing. There was an answer, but it was not a pleasant one. She will spend her life in hiding or under heavy guard, for she is marked; Salem's forces know who she is and what she is, the shield of secrecy that she might have enjoyed and relied upon has been torn away. Even if Cinder is killed and the full power of the Fall Maiden reunites in her, she can never assume that she will be safe from danger. She will live looking over her shoulder, watching for the hunters.

"I know what it's like to have to hide what you are," Penny said. "It's not fun, even before you get to bad guys who'd want to kill you if they knew what you were. It's dark and cold and lonely, and the only light comes when you can let people in, tell them the truth, tell them what you are, and hope that … that they accept you for who you are, in spite of that. I know why the Maidens have to hide, and I know why the magic was given to them in the first place, but all the same, thinking about how they must have to live, I hate it, and I don't want … I think that we can do incredible things without magic, together, like the four sisters in the story who didn't need magic to help that old man and probably didn't need it afterwards. We can do it together, and we don't need to give up our lives to do it."

"You think that we can have it all?" Pyrrha asked.

"Well, maybe not absolutely everything, but enough," Penny said. "I mean, I don't see why not."

Pyrrha placed a hand on Penny's shoulder. "Your confidence cheers me greatly," she said. "Thank you."

Penny beamed like the sun. "Any time."

Pyrrha nodded. She stepped back and pulled Akoúo̱ out of her locker, slinging it across her back in a fluid motion, even as she slammed the locker door shut. "And now, I think we've probably kept Rainbow Dash waiting long enough, don't you?"

They left the locker room, Penny trailing ever so slightly behind Pyrrha, and emerged out into the amphitheatre. As she entered, Pyrrha heard one of the other doors close, as though someone had just left.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting," she said, calling out to Rainbow Dash where she stood up on the stage.

Rainbow turned her head in Pyrrha's direction. "Nah, it's fine," she said. "Hey, Penny." She grinned. "I didn't realise I was going to have a hostile crowd."

"I … could cheer for both of you?" Penny suggested.

Rainbow snorted. "Nobody ever cheers for both sides equally; it's just something they say to avoid having to pick a side. But it's fine; cheer for Pyrrha, she deserves it. You ready for this, Pyrrha?"

Pyrrha held out her hands, and Miló and Akoúo̱ both flew from her back and into her grasp. "I should hope so," she said, leaving Penny behind as she strode forwards, her red sash and her long red hair alike flapping slightly back and forth behind her, "seeing as I'm here."

"Just don't hand me an easy win because you're distracted, okay?"

"I assure you," Pyrrha said, as she leapt up onto the stage, "you have my undivided attention."

Rainbow stared into Pyrrha's eyes for a moment and nodded. She half turned away from Pyrrha and got out her scroll, pressing the screen a couple of times to activate the display upon the wall.

Said display connected to both Rainbow's scroll and Pyrrha's without her having to do anything, sensing that their scrolls were in the arena and no others were.

Both their auras were in the green. For now.

Rainbow's hands drifted towards her machine pistols in their holsters at her waist. She was wearing her wings strapped across her back, but Pyrrha would not simply use her semblance to dump her out of the ring.

That would be a low blow, unforgivably so.

She bent her knees and held Akoúo̱ before her in a low guard.

"Are you sitting comfortably, Penny?" she asked, without taking her eyes off Rainbow Dash.

"Yes!" Penny cried enthusiastically.

Rainbow grinned and pulled her red-tinted goggles down over her eyes. "Okay then. Let's go!"

Rainbow rushed forward like a bull, exactly as she had said she would do when they talked this morning, a rainbow streaking behind her as she charged at Pyrrha, aiming to bodily shove her out of the ring and end the match.

But I'm not just going to stand here and wait for you.

Pyrrha took a step forward and threw Miló over her shoulder at Rainbow Dash. Rainbow dodged, the rainbow swirling around her like fairy magic as she spun on her toe with a dancer's grace. Pyrrha rushed towards her, Akoúo̱ gripped in both hands, arms drawn back.

Rainbow leapt up into the air, the wings unfurling out of her backpack with a series of mechanical clanks and rattles, much like Crescent Rose unfolding, the metal feathers — each one was scratched with lines, Pyrrha noticed for the first time, as though it really were a feather — bursting out from behind her as Rainbow took to the air above the ring.

Pyrrha ran for Miló, shielding herself with Akoúo̱, holding it before her head and face as she recovered her weapon. Miló transformed from spear to rifle in her hands, but Rainbow had already drawn her machine pistols from the holsters at her hips and let fly, bullets erupting from the muzzles of both guns.

Those same bullets struck Akoúo̱, ricocheting off the shield before Pyrrha used a light touch of Polarity to throw Rainbow's aim off and send the rounds thudding into the floor on either side of her.

Rainbow growled in irritation, holstering her pistol in her left hand before gripping her right-hand gun in both hands, aura flowing to her hands as she fought with Pyrrha's semblance to train her weapon upon Pyrrha once more.

Miló roared as Pyrrha fired once, twice. Rainbow dodged, turning nimbly in the air, jinking left and right. Pyrrha threw Akoúo̱ towards her wings as she transformed Miló back from rifle into spear.

Rainbow evaded the flung shield, turning sideways to let Akoúo̱ sail past her, but as she did so, Pyrrha jumped up, planting the butt of Miló upon the floor of the arena and firing the charge of dust contained within it. Miló extended out another foot, and more importantly, Pyrrha was blasted up into the air, shooting up as though she was a spear herself towards Rainbow Dash.

Rainbow tried to get out of her way, but she was badly positioned for it having just dodged Pyrrha's shield, and Pyrrha was moving too fast.

Pyrrha struck her across the side of the head with the shaft of Miló, sending Rainbow's head snapping to the left, before the two collided, Pyrrha's momentum bearing Rainbow backwards even as her jetpack flared, fire leaping from it as it pushed back against Pyrrha.

Rainbow glared at Pyrrha, teeth gritted as she threw her face forward to headbutt Pyrrha, her brow colliding with Pyrrha's circlet — although that did not entirely stop any damage to her aura — one hand clenching into a fist.

Conscious of Rainbow's preference for aura-intensive, powerful blows, Pyrrha let go of her opponent using a sharp jab of Miló to her chest to push off of Rainbow before she twisted in mid-air, her whole body turning until she was feet first to the Atlas girl.

Rainbow rose higher before Pyrrha could kick off her, and Pyrrha was left to fall, rolling once more, turning in the air until she landed gracefully upon her feet. Akoúo̱ flew back — Rainbow managed to avoid it again — onto her left arm.

Both their auras were still in the green, but Rainbow's was somewhat less green than Pyrrha's.

Rainbow hovered in the air, looking down at Pyrrha.

Pyrrha stood upon the ground, looking up at Rainbow Dash.

Will you wait for me to come up there again?

On the contrary, Rainbow Dash came down to her, descending like a thunderbolt, head first, hands knotted into fists. Pyrrha didn't know exactly what she was planning, but she did not want to simply stand still and wait to receive it. She started to run.

Rainbow threw a punch, far too early, with no hope of hitting anything.

Hitting anything was not her intent.

Rainbow's aura boom echoed throughout the arena as she unleashed her attack upon the air itself. The stage floor cracked beneath her, shards and fragments flying into the air as a crater formed beneath her, but more importantly, a great gust of air, a shockwave, erupted all around her, exploding outwards, catching Pyrrha and flinging her sideways, tossing her like a toy to land upon the floor of the stage and roll along it as her sash wrapped around her like ribbon round a gift.

Pyrrha slammed Akoúo̱ down into the stage, burying the edge of her shield in the floor and holding onto it to arrest her movement.

She was still lying on the ground as she saw a rainbow blur out of the corner of one eye.

Rainbow closed the distance before Pyrrha could rise to her feet, delivering a sharp kick into Pyrrha's side. She threw a punch straight down towards Pyrrha's head.

Pyrrha raised her shield, turning the blow away as Rainbow's fist and arm passed over the surface of her gilded shield.

Rainbow grabbed the outer lip of Akoúo̱ as though to wrench it off of Pyrrha's arm.

Pyrrha grabbed Rainbow by the belt with her free hand.

She heaved.

Rainbow squawked with alarm as Pyrrha rolled, carrying Rainbow Dash with her, throwing her head over heels and slamming her, head first, into the stage surface which cracked beneath the impact.

Pyrrha leapt to her feet, stamping with one foot on Rainbow's chest — hard — as she raised Akoúo̱ in both hands.

She brought the shield down.

Rainbow caught it in both hands, the muscles on her arms straining. She pushed off the ground with her back, her legs snapping upwards — she really was very flexible; clearly, all that yoga paid off for her — to try and wrap around Pyrrha's midriff.

Pyrrha leapt away, then rolled away — recovering Miló as she did so — before rolling upright once again.

Rainbow leapt to her feet.

Neither of them took their eyes off one another, not even to check their aura levels.

Pyrrha switched Miló into sword mode in her hand.

Rainbow darted to the left, a rainbow trailing after her, before turning to come at Pyrrha from her side. Pyrrha turned, but too slow for Rainbow's semblance, and she was punched on the side of the jaw hard enough to snap her head around, her ponytail flying around her. Rainbow dashed around the side of the arena and turned again to come at her again, but Pyrrha jumped up into the air as Rainbow, unable to stop in time, passed harmlessly underneath her.

Rainbow turned and charged again, almost like a bull — no, a bull would not have made the indirect approach trying to come around Pyrrha's flank or rear — but still, she turned and charged again, sweeping around the edge of the stage to come at Pyrrha any direction but from the front. Again, Pyrrha leapt up, her sash fluttering down behind her.

Rainbow was too smart to grab it; she could guess what would happen if she did. More was the pity.

Pyrrha landed on the ground again and quickly backed to the very edge of the stage, where Rainbow could not get behind her.

Also where she could very easily be pushed out of the ring and thus forfeit the match, but sometimes, that was the way with these things.

Rainbow's aura was in the yellow. Pyrrha's aura was still in the green, but she had put herself in a disadvantageous position.

If I were her, at this point, I would close the distance, but not close enough that I could be gotten to grips with before I unleashed another air burst to toss, well, me out of the ring.

But you aren't the only one who's thought about this fight, Rainbow Dash. I've got something to show you.

Pyrrha concentrated her aura in her legs, and to a lesser extent in her arms, weakening the shield that protected her body, her face, concentrating the greatest part of her aura in her legs and the second greatest part in her arms. It was not something that she was in the habit of doing, but she had enough aura for it on occasion, and she felt that the results would, in this case, at least, be worth it.

Ordinarily, she didn't need the big hit, but in this case, she wanted to wrap things up while she was still ahead.

Rainbow surged forward in a rainbow, stopping short of Pyrrha, well short of her, short enough to be safe from her blows, even as she drew back her fist for the aura boom that would quite literally blow Pyrrha away.

Pyrrha unleashed the aura she had gathered in her legs, hurling herself towards Dash with an unexpected swiftness, a speed that Rainbow Dash could not, did not, expect, closing the distance between them in a flash and slashing with Miló in a furious but precise flurry of blows strengthened beyond normal by the concentration of aura in her arm, one, two, three, four blows, and Pyrrha spun on her toe, sash and ponytail alike whirling before she slammed Akoúo̱ into Rainbow's face.

With her aura concentrated thus, she hit Rainbow hard enough to knock her off her feet and onto her back — and put her aura in the red.

"Yeah!" Penny cried. "Go Pyrrha!"

"Ugh, didn't see that coming," Rainbow groaned. "How long have you had that in your pocket?"

"Actually," Pyrrha said, slinging her weapons across her back and offering Rainbow a hand up, "I got the idea from you."

"Is that irony?" Rainbow asked as she took Pyrrha's hand.

"I'm not sure," Pyrrha confessed as she helped Rainbow to her feet, "but it's certainly a compliment."

"I guess I'll take it, since I can't take the win," Rainbow said. She took a deep breath. "I thought I had you there at the end."

"If we had fought when we first met, you might have," Pyrrha replied, "but you aren't the only one to give thought to a battle between us."

Rainbow laughed. "Well, thanks," she said. "Did it take your mind off things for a couple of minutes?"

"Yes, it did," Pyrrha agreed. "Thank you."

XxXxX​

Days passed. Sunset almost vanished, spending her time down in the darkness of the vault beneath the school, preparing for her attempt to rescue Amber. Jaune was with her, also readying himself for his part in the venture, and Twilight Sparkle too.

Pyrrha was appreciative, but — quite apart from the fact that she felt Sunset was already quite aware of how grateful and appreciative she was — she felt that the best way of showing her appreciation was to let Sunset get on with it, however precisely she was going to get on with it, without disturbing her training or her preparations. After all, what she was attempting to do was not easy, or at least, it did not sound easy.

But really, when it came to Sunset's magic, who could really say for sure?

"Did you want to be stopped?" Ruby asked.

Pyrrha looked at the other member of her team who was not engaged in the attempted rescue of Amber. The two of them sat on the little wooden bench before the chicken coop and enclosure, watching the creatures waddle up and down, heads bending down rapidly to pick the food from off the ground then rising up again just as swiftly, jerking back and forth, back and forth as they walked.

They were eating well, which Pyrrha might describe as a good omen, provided they continued to eat well until the day of Sunset's endeavour.

Of course, I suppose that doesn't really apply to all chickens.

They were such simple creatures, really, living their lives with no worry, no doubt. They didn't have fears, they didn't have ambitions that they feared to fail at the realising of. They were not troubled by existential concerns.

And of course, they have their children stolen and devoured, until the day comes they are themselves put to death. They are prisoners dependent upon the goodwill of their gaolers, and that goodwill will one day run out, and they will never know why.

Much better to be a person, all things considered.

Thinking about it, indeed, was almost enough to turn one vegetarian like Sunset.

Pyrrha dismissed the softly clucking chickens from her mind and focussed her attention on Ruby. "I am grateful beyond words that I was stopped."

"That's not what I asked."

"Then I must ask you to clarify what you meant," Pyrrha murmured.

"I meant…" Ruby trailed off for a moment. "Did you want to be stopped from going through with it, not from Sunset finding another way, but if there'd been no other way, if there had been nothing to do but … that … would you have wanted to be stopped from doing it?"

Pyrrha was silent. She did not speak, she did not dare to speak, she was … her heart beat hard within her breast. She kept her mouth closed. She feared as though even to open it for breathing would let words sally forth to betray her.

Did she wish it? Stopped in what way? Did she wish that Sunset had tied her up in magical chains that she could not break and cast her into some dark cell until the moment was passed, did she wish that Jaune had kept her locked in his embrace, did she wish that she had been presented with some united front that would not let her pass?

"Yes," she whispered. "And yet, not, at the same time. I … I am … my thoughts, my feelings, my soul is … I do not know."

Ruby looked up at her, eyes … were her eyes narrow? Or was Pyrrha just imagining that? If they were narrow, it was only slightly so, or else, there would have been no doubt, so probably, they were not narrowed at all, and Pyrrha's imagination, her guilt, was getting the best of her.

"It wouldn't have driven you crazy then, to have been stopped from doing what you knew to be right?" Ruby asked.

Pyrrha sighed. "I … you have never been grateful in the least, I take it."

"No," Ruby said bluntly. "What should I have been grateful for?"

Pyrrha let out the very slightest laugh, but felt compelled in any case to say, "I'm sorry, this is a serious matter, I know, but…" She trailed off momentarily. "Ruby, what is it that you desire? What is it that you want from your life?"

"To be a huntress."

"And then what?" Pyrrha asked. "To what end?"

"To be a huntress is an end in itself," Ruby said, "isn't it?"

Pyrrha shrugged. "That is at least in part a question of personal preference," she said. "For myself … I quest for destiny, I seek for heroism, I strive to be worthy of my Nikos name and of the long line of my ancestors. I wish to be, as I always believed that I could be, a great huntress. And yet…"

"Jaune," Ruby said, softly and not without sympathy.

Pyrrha's lips curled upwards into a smile. "I did not come to Beacon looking to fall in love, and yet, love found me nonetheless. I am pierced through the heart by Eros, whose shafts never miss." She chuckled. "I have never believed in an inescapable fate, and yet, the way in which Jaune was thrown across my path, unsought for, might almost make me reconsider. And so, while the Pyrrha who strives might be willing to do this thing, loath though she might be to pay the price for her destiny, the other half of myself, the other soul fighting for control of my body even before Amber might be added to the mix, might have been — is — grateful for any means to extricate myself with honour intact." She paused. "Is there nothing that you would so dearly live for that you would forsake yourself for it?"

"No," Ruby replied. "No, there's … nothing. I'm not in love, and even if I was…"

Pyrrha's brow furrowed just a little. "And if you were?"

Now it was Ruby's turn to shrug. "I'd like to think that I … I kind of think that … you should be all in, or all out. Like Mom and Dad. Dad quit and stayed home to raise a family."

"I thought he was a teacher."

"Well, he went into teaching once me and Yang were old enough," Ruby explained, "and anyway, teaching still isn't real huntsman work, is it? The point is, he did that, and then Mom stayed in, and she didn't let the fact that she was in love with my dad slow her down. So I'd like to think that I still wouldn't let it stop me."

I would pity the boy or girl in question, if that is truly the case, Pyrrha thought, but did not — would never — say. Although I'm not sure I'm one to talk in this particular instance.

"I would have done it," Ruby said. "If they'd asked me."

"I know," Pyrrha murmured. "That's one of the reasons why I would have done it myself."

An angry wordless snort, like a bull expelling air out of its nostrils while at the same time contriving to growl like a dog with its tail stepped on, emerged from Ruby's mouth and nose as she glared up at Pyrrha.

Pyrrha smiled, only somewhat apologetically. "I fear that we can never stop."

Ruby continued to glower, something that she did surprisingly well, all things considered, before she expelled a resigned sigh from out of her. "No, no, of course you can't. Like I said to Penny, you're too much a princess."

"'Princess'?"

"Shepherd of the people," Ruby said. "And I'm the sheep."

"Oh, no, not a sheep," Pyrrha replied. "A sheepdog, perhaps: valiant, but in need of direction."

Ruby looked at her again. Pyrrha battled valiantly to keep a straight face.

"Woof woof," Ruby said.

Pyrrha closed her eyes. "I am sorry," she said. "I fear it is too in me, too far ingrained, as you have said, for me to promise to be other than I am."

Ruby looked away. "All the same," she said, "as you are, I'm glad that you're not going through with this."

"Indeed," Pyrrha replied. "I'm very glad myself."

"This is gonna work, isn't it," Ruby said, not quite asking the question, at least not in her tone. "What Sunset's doing … she'll save Amber, and then … then we'll face whatever comes next, together."

Pyrrha smiled and nodded. "Yes. Yes, we surely will."

"Hey, you two!" Yang called out as she walked down the dirt path towards them. "I thought I might find you here."

Both Ruby and Pyrrha twisted around in their seats to look at her.

"Hey Yang," Ruby said. "What's up?"

"Well," Yang said, walking over until she was standing behind the two of them, forcing them both to look up at her to a greater or lesser extent, "Professor Goodwitch asked me to run the planning for the parade that opens up the Vytal Festival, since I did such a good job with the dance."

"Wasn't the dance you and Sunset?" Ruby pointed out.

"Yeah, but Sunset's kind of busy right now, isn't she?" Yang replied. "Anyway, I have been asked to run the room, talk to students from the other schools, that kind of thing, and I thought to myself that I know just the people who'd be glad of the distraction that comes from helping me out." She grinned. "What do you say?"

"Do we have a choice?" asked Ruby.

"Not in the least!" Yang said with a slightly unnerving eagerness. "Come on! What would you rather do, throw yourself into some work to take your mind off the craziness that I still cannot quite believe, or sit here moping with the chickens?"

"Well—" Ruby began.

"Don't answer that; just come with me," Yang said as she grabbed them both by the arms and hauled them bodily up and onto their feet, before beginning to pull them away in the direction of the school.

"Hey!" Ruby cried. "Yang, let go of me!"

"You want me to let go? Then start walking," said Yang, without much in the way of apparent sympathy.

Pyrrha did start walking, as indeed did Ruby. Speaking for herself, Pyrrha could see Yang's point; this would be a distraction for turbulent thoughts which gave no benefit and amounted to nothing but merely served to give her cause for worry and consternation as they whirled about her mind. She could do nothing to act on them. Her thoughts, her feelings, her opinions upon these matters were irrelevant at this point. So why dwell on them? Why not throw herself into something which, though it might seem to pale in comparison with matters of Maidens and the like, was nevertheless of great import to many of their fellow students, to say nothing of the city and the people of Vale?

To Ruby, she said, "You told me that you were disappointed that the Vytal Festival wasn't bringing people together the way that it ought to, the way that you remembered it from when you were a little girl. Perhaps, if we play our parts, we can put that right? Not just with the parade of course, but a good festival in which everything comes together, and the seven-year-olds of today may return home with joyous memories."

Yang smiled. "You told them about that, huh? That the time Uncle Qrow got us those tickets to the final?"

Ruby nodded. "Yeah, that was quite something, wasn't it? I don't think I'll ever forget it."

"What I remember," Yang said, a slightly wicked gleam in her eye, "is that you got over-tired because you stayed up too late that night, and the next day, you were fussy and bad-tempered."

"No, I wasn't!"

"Oh, yes, you were, I remember having to deal with it!"

"Well … how was I supposed to go to sleep on the last night of the Vytal Festival?" asked Ruby. "The whole of Vale was celebrating!"

"Who was the champion of the festival that year?" asked Pyrrha. That would have been the thirty-sixth biannual Vytal Festival, two years after Lady Terri-Belle had reached the final bout, raising great hopes that it was about to come home, only to falter in the last match against the Atlesian Robyn Hill. She could not remember any great Mistralian hope who had competed in the thirty-sixth tournament, though of course, some Haven students would have competed for the honour of their school and kingdom. Nevertheless, she could not remember watching any of the matches from that tournament. She thought she had been training with Chiron at the time, in the woods beyond the city.

"Her name was Aurora," Yang said. "Aurora Jones, she was a Beacon student; she fought with a spear—"

"It was a halberd," Ruby said. "It was a halberd that transformed into a semi-automatic. Its name was Blinding Light."

Yang chuckled. "As you can see, Ruby's been into weapons from an early age. I wonder what she did afterwards?"

"Maybe she's still out there somewhere," Ruby suggested. "Roaming the dangerous places of the world, fighting the good fight."

Nobody wanted to mention the other likely possibility, or at least, Pyrrha presumed that they would not, so she said, "It is a little strange to me that Professor Ozpin would not try to recruit her into his circle; how better to determine if someone is the sort of clearly superlative warrior one would expect to be highly prized than victory in the Vytal Festival tournament?"

"Seems like Ozpin has his own weird way of deciding who gets to know the truth and who doesn't," Yang muttered. "Including some hang-ups about certain people."

Oh dear, that was a poor choice of subject, wasn't it?

"Um, her opponent," Pyrrha said, bringing the subject back onto safer ground, "her opponent was Atlesian I take it."

"He was, yeah," Yang agreed. "How did you know?"

"An educated guess," Pyrrha responded. "Atlas and Beacon have monopolised victory in the Vytal Festival, certainly in recent years. It has been a long time since Haven had a champion, a fact which is of no small measure of disquiet in my home city."

"Are they really hung up about it?" asked Yang. "It's just a tournament. It's fun, sure, and a great time if it's done properly, and it's cool to watch them fight, but it's not something to get upset about. It's not like it's life or death." She paused. "Please tell me they don't kill people in Mistral for losing in the Vytal Festival."

Pyrrha laughed, although it was a laugh with a trifling edge to it because she could understand why Yang thought the idea was not completely beyond the realms of possibility.

"No," she said, "we are not quite so… indeed, but Mistral gave Remnant the tradition of heroic combat, the first arenas are all found in Anima many years before anywhere else in the world, everything that the Vytal Festival is and everything that it celebrates—"

"Peace, togetherness," Ruby said.

"Everything that is celebrated by the combat tournament," Pyrrha corrected herself, "derives from Mistral, and yet, Beacon and Atlas have taken our arts, our heritage, and, it appears, made them your own. At the very least, you are presently doing them better than we have managed for some little time. It is … a source of shame. There is great desire for someone to bring the triumph home to Mistral."

"Mmm, someone," Yang said knowingly. "No pressure then, or do you not count because you went to Beacon instead of Haven?"

"Some might see it so," Pyrrha allowed, "but I think the majority would take anything they could claim as a victory at this point."

"So, like I said, no pressure."

Pyrrha chuckled. "So," she said, "how much do you have to do to organise this parade?"

"We," Yang said, "don't have to do everything. The cops have given us a route to march through, and they're going to close the roads and line the route and stuff, but what we have to do is decide in what order the schools are going to march, who's going to be there, what we're going to wear, whether we want entertainment—"

"Entertainment for us while we're marching?" asked Ruby.

"Entertainment for the crowd, I think," Pyrrha said. "I recall that when the Vytal Festival was last held in Mistral, the students in the parade were preceded by acrobats, jugglers, and fire-breathers."

"Maybe, but I'm leaning towards a 'no' on that one," Yang said. "I want people to be watching us, not some literal clowns up in front."

"And we have to do all of this with just the three of us?" said Ruby, in a voice that turned a question halfway into a groan.

"Nah, each school has some representatives; we're having a meeting in the ballroom," Yang said. "That's why I roped you into this; I need some back-up."

They soon arrived at the ballroom, where a large rectangular table had been set up underneath the chandelier, and nearby, a map of Vale — or part of it at least — sat propped up on a stand with a red line running through it, presumably marking the route of the parade.

There were several other people already in the ballroom, students from Atlas, Haven, and Shade Academies. For Haven: Arslan; Cicero Ward the Younger, son of Councillor Ward; Medea, the somewhat unsettling student who had offered to poison people if Pyrrha wished it; and Neptune Vasilias.

A tournament celebrity, the son of a Councillor, the daughter of a provincial civic dignitary and priestess, and a scion of a famous Argive family; they have chosen students who have some connection to large scale events, as if the ability to organise them is passed down through bloodlines.

Or as though Arslan has absorbed administrative skill through having attended a lot of Fight Fan Expos.

Mind you, you could say the same about my presence. What do I know about organising parades?

There were only three Atlas students, but the only one that Pyrrha recognised was Ciel, who gave Pyrrha and Ruby a nod as they walked in. Of the three Shade students, she vaguely recognised one of them, but could not put a name to her.

There was one Beacon student already waiting in the ballroom: Velvet Scarlatina, the rabbit faunus who had been the victim of Cardin's bullying at the very start of the year.

Sea and sky, that seems so very long ago.

"Hey, Velvet," Yang said as she led Ruby and Pyrrha inside, "I thought Coco was going to be here."

Velvet clasped her hands together in front of her and did not meet Yang's eyes. "She's, um, Coco's busy."

"Busy doing what?" asked Yang.

"Busy sulking that you were asked to run this instead of her," said one of the Atlas students, a girl with blue highlights in her short green hair and mismatched eyes, one blue and one green.

"Vega!" Velvet exclaimed.

"Vel, I remember what she was like," the girl, Vega apparently, said. "If these people have spent any time with her, then they know what she's like, and if they don't … now they do."

"People can change," Velvet murmured.

"Has she?" Vega asked.

Velvet hesitated for a second. "No," she said, in a very small voice, before rallying to turn to Yang and add, "but I'm here and I'm sure that I'll be able to help you instead."

"Sure you will," Yang replied jovially, patting Velvet on the shoulder as she approached the large rectangular table. "Okay, guys!" she clasped her hands together. "Thanks for coming; now we're all here, we can get this party started! Does anyone need introductions?"

"I would appreciate it," Pyrrha murmured.

Medea laughed lightly. "I'm sure we all know who you are, Lady Pyrrha."

"That may be, but I do not know everyone here," Pyrrha replied, "and I'm sure I cannot be alone in that."

"That's a fair point," Yang said. "Let's go around the table, introduce ourselves: I'm Yang Xiao Long, I'm the leader of Beacon Academy's Team Iron, and Professor Goodwitch has asked me to make sure we get everything sorted out, because apparently, it's a tradition for the students to make as many of the arrangements as possible. Professor Goodwitch told me it teaches planning and logistics, but I think that, really, the teachers want to outsource their work."

That got her a couple of laughs, from Ruby, Velvet, some of the Atlas students, Neptune; Arslan snorted, and Medea smirked.

The Shade students did not seem to find it very amusing.

"My name is Pyrrha Nikos—"

"I had no idea," Medea said dryly.

Pyrrha cleared her throat. "—and I am a member of Team Sapphire of Beacon Academy."

"I'm Ruby Rose," Ruby added, "and I'm also a member of Beacon's Team Sapphire."

"And I am Velvet, Velvet Scarlatina," Velvet said. "From Team Coffee of Beacon Academy."

"Arslan Altan, leader of Team Auburn of Haven Academy."

"Medea Helios, of Team Jasmine of Haven."

"Cicero Ward, of Team Volcano of Haven.

"Neptune Vasilias, of Haven's Team Sun."

"My name is Ciel Soleil, of Team Rosepetal of Atlas Academy."

"The name's Flynt Coal, Team Funky."

"Vega Bleu, Team Verte."

"I'm Nebula Violette, leader of Team Indigo, here for my sins from Shade Academy."

"Nolan Porfirio of Shade Academy's Team Bronze."

"Umber Gorgoneion," said a woman who wore her hair in tangled dreadlocks falling down her head to her shoulders and covered her eyes with a pair of impenetrable black sunglasses. "Of Shade Academy, Leader of Team Ermine."

"Great," Yang said, "good to meet you all; I hope we can work well together and get this done without any fuss or trouble."

"We could always decide not to have a parade and then all go our separate ways," Nebula suggested.

Pyrrha thought that she recognised her from combat class; she had fought … was it Sunset or was it Ruby? She found she couldn't quite recall, so much had happened since then. In any event, her hair was an appropriate violet colour, cut short to just about reach the nape of the neck and combed over on top so that the bulk of its volume fell on the left side; she wore a light purple coat over a light grey tunic and dark grey pants, and she had a modest cuirass, about the size of a sports bra, strapped over her tunic protecting her breasts.

Yang laughed. "Very funny—"

"Who said I was joking?" Nebula asked.

Yang looked at her. "I … don't think that's really an option."

"Why not?" Nebula demanded. "When Shade hosts the Vytal Festival, we don't bother with a parade, or dances or a fairground or any of the other flim-flam flummery that you fops insist on throwing in to clutter up what ought to be a perfectly good contest of strength and skill."

"Why am I not surprised?" Medea muttered.

Nebula scowled. "Do you have a problem?"

"Calm down, Nebula," Umber said, placing a hand upon her shoulder. "And don't be so quick to dismiss the traditions of these outsiders. We of Vacuo must reaccustom ourselves to the pomp and circumstance that the other kingdoms use to add tone and gravitas to monumental events; we must hone the skills for the moment when we restore Vacuo to its former greatness and have no more need to hide our envy behind scorn and feigned disregard." She paused, a smirk crossing her lips. "Besides, you are also wrong in calling it a perfect contest. If the tournament were a perfect contest, then we would battle until auras broke … or even beyond."

"You can't be serious," Pyrrha murmured.

Umber's slender eyebrows rose into view from behind her sunglasses. "Do you think that when you face a foe in real battle and they have you at their mercy, they will stop when your aura is in the red and let you go?"

"The tournament is not a real battle," Ciel said. "That is the point."

"And that is its great failing," Umber replied casually.

"I think we're kind of getting off-topic here, guys," Yang said. "Let's start with … well, we've got the route mapped out for us, so why don't we start with the order of march, huh? Which schools are going in what order? Now, Beacon is hosting, so I think we should go first—"

"Of course you do," said Vega Bleu, "but Atlas won the last tournament, and as the defending champions—"

"There's no such thing as a defending champion in the Vytal Festival," Velvet murmured.

"—Atlas should have the honour of leading the parade," Vega went on.

Velvet smiled. "You went pretty native up there, didn't you?"

"You two know each other?" Ruby asked.

"The two of us and Coco all went to Pharos Combat School together," Velvet explained, "where I seem to remember that you thought that Atlas, while it had the best facilities and could help you make the most of your potential, was, and I quote, 'a little bit up—'"

"Let's not go into that now," Vega said, waving one hand rapidly before Velvet could reveal what precisely she had thought Atlas was a little bit up. "It's all … I have had time to come and appreciate the virtues of discipline and unity."

"It's a hazard of letting them anywhere near Atlas," Yang muttered. "Now, I think the fact that you won two years ago is reward enough and that since it's our festival, we should get to lead the parade, but in the spirit of Vytal Festival friendship and cooperation, I am prepared to give everyone an equal chance to take the lead by rolling dice for it: whoever gets the highest roll goes first and so on."

"That seems a very random way of making a decision," Ciel said.

Yang shrugged. "Well, unless you want to fight over it—"

"Now there's an idea," Umber said cheerily.

Yang glanced upwards towards the heavens. "No, I don't think we should … you know what?" She knelt down, planting her elbow on the table with her hand sticking. "We're going to settle this with an arm-wrestling contest; each school puts someone up, each rep has three matches, and at the end of the contest, the schools march in the order that they came in. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Arslan said, flexing one arm.

"Oh, agreed," Umber declared. "Go on, Nolan."

"This is absurd," Ciel muttered, "but very well."

Yang did predictably well, seeing off Shade's Nolan Porfirio with ease. Ciel was rather more of a dark horse; when she lined up against the Shade student, she seemed outmatched, her arms slender and rather lacking in muscle. However, although at first she seemed to be giving ground before him, a look of concentration swiftly settled on her face, and ere long, she was the one forcing him back, gradually driving his hand lower and lower until she slammed it into the surface of the table.

"Whoa," Ruby murmured.

Ciel glanced at her. "I could not carry Distant Thunder with cocktail sticks for arms," she said.

However, be that as it may, she was no match for Yang, as much as she struggled — and she put up quite a fight; there were moments even as her hand was forced down when she would suddenly jerk upwards, pushing Yang back, and it seemed that the pendulum might be about to swing the other way — she was eventually forced to the tabletop in defeat. The same unfortunate fate befell her at the hands of Arslan, who went on to face Yang in a match that might have been mistaken for being no match at all, the two of them kneeling opposite one another, hands clasped but arms unmoving.

It was only the intense expressions upon both their faces, the way that they grunted and huffed, the way their arms trembled, that revealed that they were actually in the midst of a desperate struggle, a struggle that went on for some seven minutes with no winner in sight — they had scarcely moved in either direction — before Arslan slammed her free hand palm down onto the table. "You know what? You want to lead the parade so badly, fine. It's your city; you're welcome to it. I forfeit."

And so, Yang won, and Beacon would be leading the parade, with Haven following, then Atlas, then Shade bringing up the rear.

The discussion then moved on to dress.

"All students should wear school uniforms," Ciel said. "It will give the parade a disciplined and regimented appearance."

"We don't have uniforms," Nebula pointed out.

"Although perhaps we ought to," Umber murmured.

Nebula glanced at her. "You have not shaken Mistral off sufficiently."

"I knew it," Medea declared. "You are from the Kisthenian Gorgoneions; I know your sisters."

"I am a Vacuan," Umber said coldly. "I am reborn a child of the sun and sand; sea and sky have no more claim on me, and nor does Mistral. I belong to Vacuo now, I work for its glory, and for the glory of Vacuo alone. Something that my schoolmates should keep in mind also before they sling wild accusations."

"Okay," Yang said. "So, the fact that Shade doesn't have a uniform — whether they ought to or not — is a very good point; I don't see how we can have three schools parading in matching uniforms and then the Shade students in, like, slacks and t-shirts or whatever. If we all wear our combat outfits, then it will look consistent, and it'll be what we're wearing in the tournament, so everyone watching on TV will be able to recognise us once the matches start. Is that okay with everyone?"

It was, and from there, they moved yet further on. They would not have any jugglers or the like, nor would they have a combat school marching band because this was not Solitas, and neither Signal nor Pharos possessed a marching band. Would the parade be open to all students, or just the thirty-two teams who would be taking part in the combat tournament?

"I think it should be open to all," Ruby said, "because there are teams who can't compete, like Bluebell, who should still be allowed to march in the parade if they want to."

"Can't compete?" asked Vega.

"They lost someone," Pyrrha murmured, "at the Breach."

"But they should be allowed to march anyway," Ruby declared, "with an empty space where Sky should be, so people can see it and remember that, although the tournament is fun and all, it's not what being a huntsman is really all about."

Nobody demurred from that viewpoint, how could they? How could they deny that this was, when all was said and done, a pleasant distraction, nothing more, or that it was a good idea to honour in some small part those who had upheld the traditions of a true huntsman?

Of course, that meant that a substantial amount of time was spent canvassing the students, gathering the names of which teams would like to be in the parade, and then the committee reconvening and working out the marching order of all those teams, a considerable number.

And so a few days passed in preparations, as effective a distraction as Yang could have wished.

Until the day came when the Mistralian ships arrived.

 

[ScipioSmith]

The Pride of Mistral, Part Two

​

"In the spirit of consultation and cooperation," Tempest said, sounding as though the words were being yanked out of her throat with a pair of forceps in much the same way that Cinder sometimes wished to pull out her tongue, "I think that we should begin recalling the grimm away from the various outlying settlements around which they are dispersed and concentrate them for the assault on Vale."

Cinder and Tempest stood on opposite sides of the table in the Portchester Manor dining room, a long room with room for many more than just the two of them, had they wished for there to be anyone present, which they did not. The table that divided them was near as long as the room itself, with space enough to seat one hundred guests — or more, perhaps — at one of the great banquets thrown by the lords of this great house in days long gone. Dust covered most of the table, the chandeliers above were lightless, listing, and neither of them wished to stand directly underneath one in case it fell. Table and chairs alike were riddled with woodworm, some of them might crumble if you nudged one with your foot.

Nevertheless, here they stood, with the table and much else dividing them, and a map of Vale, a detailed map of the city, excluding the surrounding regions, sitting on said table between them. Marks in red pen indicated areas where the grimm cultists would strike when the moment came: infrastructure and areas of large public gatherings.

That had been Cinder's plan, after she had been exposed and chased out of Beacon, after she had had to assume that her virus, with which she had planned to infect General Ironwood's androids and turn them against his soldiers, had been discovered and neutralised. Her revised plan had called for the deluded worshippers of the grimm to stage attacks — or at least what might seem to be attacks — on various points across the city at the height of the Vytal Festival. If they could cause blackouts, losses of communication, and the like, then, with emotions already running high thanks to the tournament, then people would panic; with the feelings stirred up in them by Sonata Dusk and her siren song, they would blame the faunus, they would blame Atlas, chaos and confusion would reign over the city.

And all that panic, that chaos, that confusion, all those negative emotions swirling around would bring the grimm down upon Vale for the second time.

And all the huntsmen, all the students, Sunset and Pyrrha and Blake Belladonna and all those gallant hearts of Beacon and Atlas and Haven would rush to the defences so there would be no one, no one at all, to stop her from waltzing into Beacon and taking the Relic.

Assuming, of course, that she could find it.

And when I do find it, Salem will order Tempest Shadow to terminate me.

She did not know that for certain, although until fairly recently, she had been certain of it. After the duel, after Salem's reaction to the duel, after it had been made clear to her that she was only surviving her mistress' displeasure because she was the Fall Maiden, or part of it, she had thought, she had believed, she had been unable to come to any other conclusion that as soon as Salem was relieved of the necessity of having a Fall Maiden to retrieve the Relic of Choice, so, too, she would relieve herself of Cinder. After all, she could have Tempest become the Spring Maiden, if she could find her, or Lightning Dust if she were feeling stupid. Cinder was not indispensable to her, except in as far as she held half the power of the Fall Maiden, and only the Fall Maiden could retrieve Beacon's Relic.

At least, she could if she knew where it was.

As things stood now, however, Cinder was not so certain that her fate would be sealed along with Beacon itself. She had clawed back some ground with her actions in the Merlot incident — strange though that might be to say, considering it had involved another act of disobedience. But it was disobedience that had been successful, and moreover, Cinder had convinced Salem that it was Tempest whose judgement had been at fault, driven by malice rather than forethought, guilty of putting her own agenda ahead of the will of Salem.

The sun shone not so bright on Tempest now, while Cinder stood a little less in shadow.

In any event, whether Cinder was marked for death or not, such had been her plan; if Tempest had sought to kill her, then Cinder would not have gone meekly to the grave, not at the hands of Tempest Shadow. She had meant to kill Watts' protégé, leave the Relic with Sonata with which to purchase her freedom, and seek out Pyrrha for one final combat.

A third time that would pay for all, in which either Pyrrha would win a second time and there would be no intervention on Cinder's behalf, or Cinder would triumph at the last — and not long outlive her triumph, as Sunset took her revenge.

Such, indeed, had been her plan. Had been her plan. Now…

"Let the grimm remain where they are," she said.

Tempest glanced up from the map to look at Cinder. "I know there is a risk to concentrating our forces too early; the Valish huntsmen may return to Vale, but it was never our intent to destroy Vale with the grimm, only—"

"Only to draw the defenders away from Beacon," Cinder interrupted her. "Yes, I know the plan; I devised it, if you will recall. But you misunderstand me. I no longer believe there is a need for a grimm attack."

Tempest stared at her, face impassive. "Would you mind repeating yourself? I may have misheard you."

Cinder smiled with one corner of her mouth, a mocking smile full of contempt. "I don't see the need for a grimm attack," she repeated, more slowly this time, as if she were speaking to a child, and a stupid one at that.

"Is that so?"

"Yes," Cinder said, "yes, it is."

Tempest leaned upon the map and table, pressing both firsts down upon Vale's agricultural district. "I see," she said, with great softness in her voice. "And … why not?"

"Because it is unnecessary," Cinder said. "The efforts of the cultists, combined with the work of Sonata, will be sufficient to sow confusion—"

"Confusion, yes," Tempest said, cutting Cinder off, "but that confusion alone will not be sufficient to draw the huntsmen out of Beacon. Ozpin will keep the students safe in the school and let the police and—"

"The police, the Valish military, Ironwood's forces, they will all be part of the problem," Cinder declared. "Paralysed, uncertain, running around chasing their tails, not knowing what is happening, jumping at shadows, blaming each other. And the mere threat of a grimm attack under those circumstances will compel Ozpin to send out the students as the only people capable of defending Vale."

"Until he realises that such a grimm attack is not coming," Tempest replied. "And recalls the students to the school, where the real effort will fall. Ozpin is no fool; he will soon realise that the anticipated assault has not materialised, which is why a real grimm attack is necessary to keep the huntsmen — and everyone else — pinned on the Green Line, or the Red." She paused. "Unless you want to keep the students safe in the school."

Cinder snorted. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you and your obsession with one half of Team Sapphire," Tempest said, her lip curling into a sneer. "Sunset Shimmer, Pyrrha Nikos, they make you weak. They cloud your judgement. Need I remind you—?"

"No," Cinder said. "You need not. I need no reminders from you, no instruction, no wise counsel for my own benefit."

"Why do you not want to launch an assault with the grimm?" Tempest asked.

"I have told you once already; were you too dull-witted to comprehend?"

"Why does it matter whether it is necessary or not?" demanded Tempest. "Send them in anyway, why not? Why rely on the threat of an attack that isn't coming when you can launch an attack that is?"

"Because I do not wish to throw away the lives of the grimm like so much cannon fodder, to use them as though their lives have no purpose but to end for my purposes—"

"For Salem's purposes," Tempest corrected her. "We are all servants of a greater mistress here."

"I know it well enough," Cinder muttered.

"Then to what end do the grimm exist but to die for Salem, at her will and by her command? What are they, that you should be squeamish at the thought of their destruction?"

They are myself, and I am one of them, Cinder thought. I thought myself superior to them, set apart, set above; even after I became partly one of them, I thought … I mistook a place at Salem's table for an exalted state, for true importance. But we are all servants, no, more than that, we are all slaves to her, and there is no slave, no matter how trusted, no matter how highly placed, no matter how important, who cannot one day be thrown aside to achieve some greater purpose.

Salem herself revealed that to me after the duel. I wonder if she would appreciate the irony that, in schooling me upon my proper place, she has bred in me greater consideration for those beneath me.

Those whom I can now embrace as kin to me and, as my kin, abhor their slaughter in ways that I did not before.

"Do you think that there will never come a day when Salem will tire of you?" Cinder asked. "Do you think that you will continue to be useful to her always, never disappointing, never failing, never doing ought to fall out of her favour?"

"Doctor Watts—"

"Will not always remain in her favour either, perhaps," Cinder murmured.

Tempest's eyes narrowed. "If Salem could hear you speak, she might call this treachery."

"Have you no more self-respect than this? Is to threaten me with Salem's displeasure, to play the informant lurking beneath the windowsill, the only argument which you possess?" Cinder demanded. "Gods, you are a feeble wretch."

She turned away, turning her back on Tempest as she walked to the dining room wall, placing her fingers upon the faded, mildewed, mouldy wallpaper. "You have nothing that was not given to you, and one day, it will be taken back."

"What do you have that was not given to you?" Tempest retorted.

"I have enough pride not to go running to complain that the bad girl is saying mean things," Cinder snapped.

"And where has your pride gotten you?" Tempest asked in a voice that was soft and sharp. She paused. "The answer to your question is that I have no fears of such, for I do not intend to fail."

Cinder snorted. "Then you are a fool. Even if you win every battle, even if you do everything that is asked of you without fault, eventually, you will become old and tired and unable to serve, unable to keep up with the new young proteges of Ozpin or whoever succeeds him after he is dead. The aged stag can win a hundred battles, but eventually, some young buck will prove the stronger, the faster, with all the vigour and vitality of youth that has deserted the old king. And what do you think Salem will do with you then?"

"If you believe that, then why are you still here?" Tempest asked.

"Because I am not a turncoat, for all my faults," Cinder said, turning to face Tempest once again. Because I have nowhere else to go. Because I am not fit for the company of heroes. Because I have been made for shadows now; I cannot bear the light for too long.

Because death and inexorable destiny is waiting for me; I have nothing else.

"I will fight for Salem, I will fulfil my obligations to her, I will honour her the good services that she has done for me, I will place the Relic of Choice in her hands and any other Relics she bids me fetch for her, but I am under no illusions: she is not a good lord who will keep and care for me when I am old and tired; she is not my mother. I am an instrument, as we all are, and like all tools, we will be replaced for superior models when the time comes. It does not change where my allegiance lies, but it does mean that I wish to take some care with the other tools and not break hammers pounding on a wall. In truth, I regret the Breach now, such a slaughter of beowolves and ursai and all the rest and all—"

"And all for the plan," Tempest said. "Something like the Breach was necessary; what would you have done otherwise?"

Cinder shrugged. "Let the White Fang shoot their shot unharried by the grimm? It would have struck a blow for faunus rights, to be sure, if not the one that Adam was expecting. Or perhaps not. I would have thought of something."

Tempest stared at Cinder, eyes boring into her, as if trying to ferret Cinder's truth out of her heart. "And that is your only reason?"

My only reason? You have no idea, none at all.

I told Emerald that I did not wish to see Vale destroyed, and loosing even more grimm upon the city would make me seem disingenuous in her eyes.

And then there were those two members of Team SAPR, those who Tempest claimed weakened her in her obsession.

She had no idea.

Sunset was willing to give up everything for me, turn her back upon her friends, her dreams, her … everything. And Pyrrha … Pyrrha dealt with me honourably. When Ruby wanted to kill me, Pyrrha would have none of it because we had made a bargain, and she would see that bargain honoured to the last, though it would have been wiser to have cut me down while my back was turned.

How can I repay kindness and honour with more battles, with the risk of dishonourable death in the maws of the grimm, with more danger looming over Vale? Would it not prove Ruby right about me?

That would be, not the very worst possible thing, perhaps, but I would fain indeed prove that self-righteous little madam to have been correct.

I would be better than she thinks, than they all think, save only Sunset. No, even Sunset does not think I have goodness in me, not really. I would be better than they think.

The great Pyrrha once gave Juturna's body back to her mother and father and let them have twelve days of peace to host the funeral games.

I would be as noble as a warrior princess of old and let them have their games in peace.

"That is the only reason that need concern you," Cinder declared.

Tempest's face twitched. "Salem may not be so concerned with the lives of the grimm as you."

"Your place in Salem's affections has already passed its zenith," Cinder informed her. "The little moment when she would hear you with eager ears and think the worst of me has passed already." She could not resist a smirk. "You threw your lofty perch aside when you put your spiteful desire to be rid of Emerald over your duty to Salem. Now she will hear us both equally."

"And you will tell her that you can win a victory without the loss of grimm?"

"I will tell her that I can bring back the Relic of Choice without any fuss or bother."

"I understood that Beacon Tower was to fall and Ozpin with it," Tempest replied. "A great victory to—"

"To what?" Cinder asked. "To rouse the world in arms against this menace? To inspire heroes to rise up and resist her? What does a queen of shadows, veiled in darkness, need with a statement or a great victory? As for Ozpin, he will die, and he will tell me where he has stowed the Relic before he dies, but the tower? It is not worth the cost, and Salem will see that if you force me to persuade her of it."

The doorhandle rattled, and there was the sound of a stuck door thumping as someone tried to open it from without.

"The door's stuck again," Emerald opined from the other side, because that was another issue with this old house; not all of the doors opened and closed smoothly any more.

"Put your shoulder to it," Cinder called back to her.

"That hardly seems ladylike," Emerald replied, putting a little more affectation into her accent as she said it.

Cinder snorted. "True enough, but even ladies must make exception to avoid being trapped in rooms."

There was a pause, then a heavy crashing thud, and then another, and then a third as the door burst open and Emerald half staggered in.

Cinder was reminded that Emerald could really do with a wardrobe change; no lady would show that much stomach after all, although showing legs was perfectly acceptable for daywear nowadays.

So it goes, after all, until in the end, anything goes.

"What is it?" Tempest demanded.

Emerald straightened up, raising her chin in an attempt to look down at Tempest despite the difference in their heights.

She didn't quite manage it, but she'd get there.

"The Mistralian ships have arrived," she said. "You can see them passing over if you go outside."

Cinder smiled. "Well then, we should get some sun, shouldn't we?"

And without another word to Tempest, she walked away, down the long dining room table, joining Emerald as they swept out of the dining room, leaving Tempest to follow in their wake.

Tempest did follow, and the three of them swiftly made it out of the house and into the decaying gardens of the house that once must have been not only large but bright and beautiful and well tended to as well.

All gone now, of course, nothing left but decay.

Still, at least turning her eyes upwards to the sky afforded Cinder some distraction from it.

The Mistralian ships were passing overhead, directly overhead, blotting out the sun and casting long shadows over the overgrown and weed-infested grass as they made their sluggish, lumbering way towards Vale.

They were large ships, to be sure, and being large, there was something viscerally impressive about them: such length, so much metal, so many guns.

Cinder doubted their effectiveness, however; if ships of this size and design were that good, then the Atlesians would build them that way. The fact that they had gone in a radically different direction suggested that these flying fortresses might not be so secure as they might seem.

Luckily, neither Vale nor Mistral will have to find out.

"Quite a sight, aren't they?" Emerald asked.

"Oh, undoubtedly," Cinder replied. "If only because there is so very much to see."

Emerald frowned. "It must take a big crew to man a ship that size."

"Also undoubtedly, although that doesn't mean the Mistralians brought more than a skeleton crew with them."

"Do you think?"

"I have no proof either way, but they came to deliver the ships, not fight with them," Cinder said. "Of course, if they did bring the vessels fully-crewed, that makes things rather interesting, doesn't it?" She turned to Tempest. "Chaos, confusion, and the opportunity for all sorts of misplaced blame. Just as I said. And no need whatsoever for a grimm attack."

Tempest did not reply.

XxXxX​

Ironwood stood on the bridge of the Valiant, hands clasped behind his back, eyes fixed upon the image displayed in front of him as the Mistralian ships arrived in the skies over Vale.

There were five of them: two large battleships, the two ships that the Valish had purchased from Mistral; and three civilian skyliners, one of which had been converted to a carrier from which a wing of airships had just taken off.

The airships that emerged from the carrier were undoubtedly the most modern thing about this small Mistralian flotilla: they were the latest MARS designs, unless he was much mistaken, and as much as he thought that they were a little over-engineered, what with the way that a part of the fuselage seemed to have been cut away in the centre to make room for a rotor blade which formed part of the VTL, they were undoubtedly very good at what they did, perhaps an equal to the Atlesian Skydarts.

Was that what Mistral had paid for with the profits of their sale of the two battleships? They obviously hadn't spent the lien on a carrier, which was very obviously a civilian airship that had hastily been turned into an ad hoc space to store the airships for the journey over here.

And then there were two airships which simply looked like skyliners, no more, no less. There were no visible weapons present of any kind on either of them.

Which was more than could be said for the two battleships, the things that had brought the Mistralians to Vale — although why they had come to Vale city was, at the moment, leaving him a little perplexed.

In any case, they were here: two battleships and their attendant escorts moving slowly over Vale, heading towards Beacon.

The battleships themselves were certainly well-armed, making up for the lack of armaments present on the skyliners, bristling with guns set in turrets and barbettes all along every side of the sloping, almost egg-shaped hull. The guns varied greatly in size, from the great guns in their twin turrets fore and aft, to the large, but not quite so large single turrets mounted on the sides of the hull — from what he could see, Ironwood would put the main guns at 15 inches and the smaller at 9.2 inches — and then to smaller secondary guns making up a vast broadside on every side of the two airships.

The Mistralian fighters had formed a screen in front of the two capital ships, but the Mistralians were paying — or appeared to be paying — little attention to the Courageous and Resolution moving in on their left, or to the Gallant and Vigilant coming in on their right, or, indeed, to the various Atlesian airships that were either supporting the cruisers or making flybys of the Mistralian ships in order to get a better look at them.

There was nothing to suggest that the Mistralians had come here looking to pick a fight, but if they had, then they wouldn't catch the Atlesians unprepared.

"Schnee," he said, "what's your opinion?"

Winter was standing on his right and just behind him. She came to attention before she said, "I'd like to know who's in those airships, sir."

"They could be empty, or mostly empty," Fitzjames suggested from his chair. "After all, the men who flew those two behemoths here have to get home somehow. It would be rather cold to expect them to pay for their own passage back to Mistral."

"Perhaps," Schnee acknowledged. "Although that makes me wonder why the Valish didn't send crews over to Mistral to pick them up."

"Because then they wouldn't have arrived over Vale flying Mistralian colours," Ironwood said. "This is about power projection, Schnee."

"A concept you're familiar with, Major Schnee, I'm sure," Fitzjames said.

Winter did not reply, although Ironwood could sense her stiffening behind him without him having to turn and look at her. This business with her family — or with the SDC, rather, but the Schnee Dust Company was so indelibly associated with the Schnee family for obvious reasons that it was hard to separate the two — had made things difficult for her. Belladonna and Dash had done the right thing, of course, but nevertheless, it had made things difficult for Winter, as it had no doubt made things difficult for her sister too.

It wasn't talked about, obviously. It wasn't mentioned ever, nobody discussed it over dinner in the officers' mess, that was not the done thing at all, but you could feel people thinking about it, you could hear it under the words they said, or in what they did not say, in the glances they shot her way.

Unfortunately, there was very little he could do to protect Schnee from it; not that she had asked for his protection, nor would she. She would bear this on her own, or try to.

He just hoped that, if she could not bear it, she would come to him before it was too late.

"Focus, Fitzjames," Ironwood said with a slight growl in his voice. "Eyes on the Mistralians."

Fitzjames sat up a little straighter in his chair. "Aye, sir."

"Eighty years since the Great War," Winter said, "and now, they decide that they want to get back on the world stage. Why?"

"Because they always wanted to, and this is the first opportunity they've had," Fitzjames offered.

"Or because it took this long, and this opportunity, for those that always did to convince a majority to think their way," Ironwood said. "Or the Breach acted a shock to the system and convinced them that they needed to strengthen their defences."

"If defence was their intent they would have kept their ships at home and in their ownership," Winter murmured.

"The trip was well worth it if they persuaded the Valish to part with lien for those," Fitzjames declared. "Their salesmen must have honey on their tongues."

"Mistral is the home of MARS, after all," Winter reminded them.

"Those ships weren't built by MARS," Fitzjames replied.

"As far as I'm aware, MARS doesn't build capital ships, or large airships of any kind," Ironwood said, "but even if they did, government contracts often go to the lowest bidder, not the best."

There was a collective wordless murmur of acknowledgement from both Schnee and Fitzjames, who had both been in the military long enough to learn that particular truth of the Atlesian service. It was why so much of their equipment was made by the SDC. It was also why the service was blessed with the famous Marigold Foods Plum and Apple Jam, which contained no trace of either plum or apple when tasted.

Ironwood went on, "So, Fitzjames, you don't rate the ships?"

"No, sir."

"Schnee?"

"I can see Major Fitzjames' point," Winter said. "They don't look very manoeuvrable, and those engines at the back are a definite vulnerability. But, on the other hand, I wouldn't like to take a volley from all those guns."

"Projectile cannons," Fitzjames said. "Not a laser or a missile in sight."

"They'll still hurt if they hit," Winter said.

"All the same, putting those weapons on airships went out of date years ago, decades," Fitzjames said. "Who still uses twelve-inch guns on an airship these days?"

"They're sixteen-inch guns," Winter corrected him. "I take your point, but note that the Valish are still using eight-inch guns on their destroyers."

"That isn't a recommendation for either, Major," Fitzjames said. He paused for a moment. "Those are twelve-inch guns; there's no way they were able to mount sixteens."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because if they could fit sixteen-inch guns, they'd know better than to use guns," Fitzjames said.

"I see," Winter murmured. "I suppose we'll have to agree to disagree. Unless you'd like to wager on it?"

"How much do you have in mind, Major?"

"Fifty lien?"

"Deal."

"Focus, children," Ironwood said dryly.

Winter cleared her throat. "Apologies, sir."

"You both have good points," Ironwood said. "The designs of these ships may be suboptimal, but it doesn't follow that they're not dangerous. At least to cruisers. Irving, get me Spitfire."

"Aye aye, sir," Lieutenant Irving said. "Spitfire, this is Valiant, I have Actual requesting to speak with you."

"Valiant Actual, this is Spitfire, reading you loud and clear."

"What's it look like from where you are, Spitfire?" Ironwood asked.

"Sir, if you were wondering how the Mistralians were able to come up with an airship wing so fast, the answer is 'they bought one,'" Spitfire said, "Can you see the airships on your screen?"

"I can, Spitfire."

"Then keep your eyes on them, Actual, and watch this," Spitfire said.

Ironwood didn't need to wait long to find out what he was supposed to be watching: an Atlesian Skydart, with the markings of the Wonderbolt squadron — a yellow lightning bolt upon a blue shield — on the wings, descending upon the Mistralian airships from above.

As Ironwood watched, the airship flipped, so that it was belly up and top down towards the ground, so that Spitfire could look down and see out of the cockpit roof.

And she stayed that way as she lowered closer and closer to the lead airship in the Mistralian formation, until there was a matter of mere feet separating the two cockpits.

"How in the gods' names is she being allowed to get away with that?" Fitzjames muttered.

"I am looking straight down," Spitfire said, "at a robot in the cockpit of this airship. They don't have pilots; they have point and click droids programmed to fly."

"Are you afraid of being replaced, Spitfire?" Winter asked.

"Whoever said that, I'm within spitting distance, and this piece of junk hasn't even noticed me yet," Spitfire said scornfully. "I'd be amazed if these things make it to a minute in a real fight. There's some things you can't substitute a machine for a person."

"Spitfire, break contact before they get a software upgrade," Ironwood instructed.

"Understood, sir," Spitfire said, banking upwards, rolling rightside up as she did so, turning away from the Mistralian formation to rejoin her squadron.

The Mistralian airships, and the robots that piloted them, did not react at all.

"Spitfire," Ironwood said. "Did you see what kind of robots were piloting those airships?"

"AK-200s, sir."

"They're not supposed to be on sale to the general public yet," Winter muttered indignantly. "How did they get them?"

"A better question might be 'who in the SDC sold them?'" Ironwood said. "Spitfire, what's your opinion on the capital ships, from a fighter's perspective?"

"From a fighter's perspective, it looks like those are manual guns, not automated," Spitfire said, "so I doubt they could keep up with a Skydart in the air. On the other hand, there's so many of them that I wouldn't like to fly into that volume of fire, and I definitely wouldn't want to risk bombers getting close to them."

"Understood, Spitfire. Then it's a good thing it shouldn't come to that."

"Sir," Irving called out from the comms station. "The Mistralians are hailing us, a Polemarch Yeoh wishes to speak with you."

"Spitfire, continue to monitor the Mistralians," Ironwood said. "Valiant Actual out. Put the Mistralians on-screen, Lieutenant."

The image of the Mistralian ships disappeared from the viewscreen, replaced by the oval-shaped face of a woman in middle-age, probably, although she had that very well-preserved quality of some Mistralian women which meant they scarcely seemed to age at all between twenty and sixty — they should all be so lucky.

She had coal-black hair, worn loose down below her shoulders, with dark brown eyes and skin of that golden-bronze tone sometimes found in Mistral. Although only her head and shoulders were visible, from the shoulders, it looked as though she was wearing a blue uniform, with gold detailing around the tight collar and upon her epaulettes.

"Polemarch Yeoh, I presume," Ironwood said.

"Indeed, General," Yeoh replied. "It is good to meet you again."

"Have we met before?"

"Not personally, I admit," Yeoh said, "but we fought together at the Valley of Tombs. I was with the Black Band at the time."

"That was a few years ago now," Ironwood said.

He had been a colonel at the time, commanding the Sixth Squadron based in Vacuo, serving the two masters of the Headmaster of Shade and the SDC's Vice-President of Vacuan Operations. A settlement by the name of Bauxite had been threatened by a grimm horde, and as Vacuans usually did, the inhabitants had attempted to retreat to safety, escorted by a mercenary company originally from Mistral. But not only had the grimm pursued them, but another group of grimm had come down in front of them, trapping them in the Valley of Tombs, where the ancient kings and queens of Vacuo had been laid to rest. Ironwood had taken his ships, and his men, and gone to their aid, sending one ship and one company of infantry to check the advance of the southern grimm while blasting his way through the northern horde with the bulk of his forces.

"And yet, I still remember the sight of your ships flying overhead, dispensing destruction to the grimm below," Yeoh replied. "It is my great hope that, one day, Mistralian ships will stir the hearts of men below in just the same way."

"Speaking of Mistralian ships—"

"There was no need, General, for you to order your cruisers to form a pincer movement," Yeoh informed him. "I am not here as an enemy; I am merely making delivery of a legal purchase of our two battleships to Vale."

"But I hope you won't blame me for being cautious," Ironwood replied.

"I would be a little disappointed if you weren't," Yeoh admitted.

"May I ask, Polemarch, why someone with what I recognise as a senior rank if my history is holding up is running a delivery?" Ironwood asked. "And also why you are delivering these ships here and not to the yards in Alexandria?"

"The answer to your second question is that the Valish wanted the ships here," Yeoh replied, "and the customer is always right, are they not? As for your first question, I thought that this little expedition might be just the thing to season the new recruits to my nascent force, and so, with the permission of the Valish Council, I have brought the First Cohort of the Common Army to take part in joint exercises with the Valish Defence Force."

"I see," Ironwood said blandly. He had not been informed of this, but then, the Valish no doubt took the view that he was obliged to keep them informed of everything but not the other way around. Plus, he could hardly complain about a Valish lack of forthcomingness at this point, with everything he had failed to tell Councillor Aris this past year. "May I ask what kind of exercises?"

"Drill, some Opposing Force out beyond the Green Line," Yeoh said. "I understand grimm numbers have been weakened around Vale, so we might go out hunting some; it will be good for the men to get some kills under their belts and learn that the grimm can be killed."

"But they are not to be trifled with, all the same," Ironwood said. "Be careful; estimates of grimm numbers can turn out to be inaccurate."

"I am always careful, General," Yeoh said, "but if I get in trouble, I expect you to rescue me again, just as you did at Valley of Tombs."

Ironwood snorted. "I'll do my best," he said, "but with good fortune, you'll find your time in Vale to be tedious and dull."

Yeoh chuckled. "Whatever else happens, we will be here for the Vytal Festival, and in my experience, the Vytal Festival is never dull. Disappointing for a Mistralian, frequently, but never dull."

"Are you telling me that you flew all this way so that you could watch the matches personally?" Ironwood asked.

"No, General, but it was a welcome bonus," Yeoh admitted. "As one patriot to another, I don't suppose I can interest you in a wager on the relative performance of Mistralian and Atlesian students?"

"Atlesian and Mistralian, or Atlas and Haven students?"

"Either," Yeoh replied. "Both, if you wish; we can have more than one bet."

"As a teacher," Ironwood declared, "I shouldn't indulge in gambling; it sets a bad example to the students. And to my subordinate officers."

"You sound like my daughter, General, protecting her children from the threat of vice," Yeoh said. "A threat which, to hear her, you would believe to be ever-present in the dystopian cesspit of Mistral. Where is the harm in a gentleman's wager?"

"As my students are reminded, it may start with a gentleman's wager, but it doesn't always end there," Ironwood said. "I'm sorry, Polemarch."

"No matter; I will simply have to settle for bragging rights," Yeoh replied.

"You're very confident, considering that Haven's history in the tournament is … underwhelming," Ironwood said.

Yeoh smiled. "Call it a hunch, but I have a feeling this year may be different."

"Well, in any case," Ironwood said. "I wish you good hunting, if you decide to do any, and a welcome stay in Mistral."

"And I wish you peace, in the skies above and on the earth below," Yeoh said. "Yeoh out."

Her image disappeared.

"The skies may be peaceful," Winter observed, "but they are getting a little crowded."

XxXxX​

Pyrrha stood on the wide balcony overlooking the city, watching the Mistralian airships glide to a stately halt in the midst of what was becoming an ever more crowded sky. In addition to General Ironwood's airships, whose numbers had increased by a full one-third since the Breach, bringing the total number of cruisers up to twelve, had previously been added two Valish destroyers, and now, these Mistralian battleships and their escorts.

And the great Amity Arena, the airborne colosseum where the Vytal Tournament would be held, had not even arrived from Solitas yet; when it did, would there be any room for it to float without a ship bumping into it?

Yes, in all likelihood there would — the sky was a large place, after all — but even so, it would add to the sense of congestion up above.

When the Atlesian fleet departed, it would seem very strange to be able to look up and not see them there.

Strange, disconcerting, possibly a little worrying at first.

In any case, the Mistralian airships were continuing to slow down and would, Pyrrha guessed, stop before they passed over the cliffs.

A modest crowd had gathered on the balcony to watch their arrival, not only Pyrrha but Ruby too, and Penny, and Yang, Arslan, Rainbow Dash, Ciel, and Blake, all of them standing at the wrought iron railings that separated them from the long drop down, all of them with their heads and eyes turned skywards as the ships came in.

The Mistralian battleships were queens of the sky in size terms; they were certainly much larger than any of General Ironwood's cruisers, or even of his larger carriers, though it might be a little much to say that they dwarfed them. Certainly, they looked as though they could smash through any Altesian ship simply by flying into it, although as slow as they were, it was an open question whether they could hit anything before it got out of the way.

Certainly, they made the Valish warships seem very small by comparison, and undergunned also; whatever questions might have been raised about the state of these two ships — old as they were, mothballed as they had been — from appearances alone, one could very well see why the Valish had desired them to augment their air fleet.

If one looked past all of the guns — and that was somewhat difficult, as there were a great many guns — the Mistralian battleships somewhat resembled whales: they were rounded, slightly bulbous shapes, widening out from the tip and then narrowing in at the back, although not to the extent of any whale that Pyrrha knew of. They even had two immense, fin-like wings at the front, beating up and down, up and down, although instead of a tail fin, there looked to be a substantial engine block mounted at the rear of the two ships, and another pair of wings just ahead of the stern, beating in time with the first.

The whale shape was disguised by the sheer amount of weaponry protruding out of the rounded hull, from the great gun turrets fore and aft to the smaller turrets and barbette guns set into the hull itself. These two ships would have truly formidable broadsides if they ever had cause to fire in anger, but whether a broadside would be as effective against the grimm as against another ship of similar size and build as this, Pyrrha had doubts. After all, nevermores were not slow creatures; they would not sit and wait to take such fire.

Although, with such a volume of fire, how could they avoid it?

Nevertheless, Pyrrha could not shake the impression that these warships had been built more with other warships than the grimm in mind; specifically, it seemed as though the opponent they would be best matched against would be another ship very like themselves, with whom they could trade the fire of their monstrous array of guns. Against an opponent that did not match up so neatly … who could say?

Hopefully, neither they nor Vale would ever have to find out.

"They're big, aren't they?" Arslan said.

Yang smirked. "Did you work that out all by yourself?"

"Shut up," Arslan muttered.

"It's a pity about the guns," Ruby said.

"Did you just say 'it's a pity about the guns'?" Yang asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Ruby confirmed. "They're cool guns, don't get me wrong, those are fifteen inch cannon in the main turrets, and I can see 9.2 inch, 6 inch, and 5.5 inch dual-purpose guns along the hull, but the problem with using guns on a ship is—"

"What if you miss," Rainbow said.

"Exactly," Ruby agreed. "Lasers just kind of fizzle out, but those shells are going to hit something, even if it isn't the target."

"Unless they have fuses set to detonate after a certain time without contact," Ciel suggested.

"They'd need to be really short fuses to explode high enough up in the air," Ruby replied.

"Does it matter?" asked Arslan.

"It matters if you're going to be dropping shells over our city, yeah," Yang replied.

"Technically, you'll be the ones dropping shells on your own city," Arslan said, "with the ships that you bought from us, but if you wanted lasers, you should have bought lasers; it's not like you didn't know what the ships were like before you bought them."

"We didn't buy them," Yang said. "The Council did."

"I wonder why they've come to Vale," Ruby said, "instead of the docks at Alexandria."

"For the same reason the Council bought them in the first place; it's all a big gesture," Yang said dismissively. "'Look at us, doing things, taking this seriously, protecting Vale. Look at our new ships, don't they look cool, don't you feel safe?' They're not here to protect Vale; they're here to protect Councillor Emerald's poll ratings."

"I don't know if they make anyone feel safe, but those things do not look cool," Rainbow declared. "They look slow as anything, and Ruby's right; the guns are all wrong. Guns are all wrong for airships, generally."

"Are guns wrong for airships because Atlas doesn't use them, or does Atlas not use them because they're wrong for airships?" asked Blake in an ever so slightly arch tone.

"Atlas doesn't use guns on airships because the shells move too slow to hit most flying grimm, and they don't have tracking capacity like missiles do," Rainbow said.

"What about point defence?" asked Blake.

"It's the speed and reaction thing," said Rainbow. "A manually-controlled turret can't track the target quickly enough; you need automated systems."

"Those turrets might be automated," Ruby pointed out. "We don't know."

"I doubt it, with those ships being as old as they are," Rainbow said. "On top of which, look how slowly they're moving; I doubt they've upgraded the engines from the old models they had when it was built, and even if they had, they've built it so big and weighed it down with so much armour and so many guns that you'd need a dozen cruiser engines at least to get it moving."

"Speed isn't everything," Penny pointed out.

"Not if you can protect yourself, I guess," Rainbow allowed, "but who's going to protect them?"

"They are intended to protect themselves, I imagine," Ciel said. "Hence the firepower."

"Mmm," Rainbow murmured. "That's what they were hoping for, I'm sure."

"At a certain point, with so much firepower, won't it be basically impossible to get close to them?" asked Penny.

"There's always a way," Rainbow said. "You just have to be a good enough pilot, that's all."

"These ships aren't here as your enemies," Yang reminded her.

"I know," Rainbow said. "I'm not sure everyone down in Vale does, but I know."

"Indeed," Ciel murmured. "This would not be so concerning if it were not for the rising tide of sentiment against us."

"And the faunus," Blake added.

"It'll blow over," Yang said. "Give it a little time, and everyone will calm down and wonder just what they were thinking. I get that I'm not a faunus, and I'm not an Atlesian, and that it's easier for me to say 'calm down and wait it out' than it is for you to actually do it, but … it will blow over. It has to."

"The festival will bring people together," Arslan said. "There's nothing like a festival for smoothing things over, right Pyrrha?"

Pyrrha smiled slightly. "Yes. No matter what is going on in the city, whenever there is a festival or a holiday upon us, the whole city seems to forget its troubles and be seized with a great sense of joy and celebration."

"Do you have a lot of those?" asked Rainbow.

"Not too many, I think, but some," Pyrrha replied. "Technically and traditionally speaking, the Mistral Regional Tournament is part of a festival to honour the gods of Victory and War for their mercy and generosity in allowing us to maintain the blessings of peace. We do battle for their entertainment that the city need not bleed for such. Then there is the midwinter Festival of the Departed, where we honour the dead and Erechthoneus, the gods of the underworld, in part by fighting in the Chtoneum under the city."

"We don't fight in that one," Arslan said. "Neither Pyrrha nor me. Some fighters do both, but the Chtoneum attracts a bit of a rougher crowd in every sense. Matches go on until your aura breaks, or sometimes beyond, if the referee decides that it should."

"So it's more like real combat, then?" Yang said.

"If I wished to see real combat, I would do as I have done and come to a school like this," Pyrrha pointed out. "A tournament should be a relief from that, a place of sunlight, not shadow; rules, not murder."

"'Murder'?" Ruby repeated. "People die there?"

"Rarely," Pyrrha allowed, "but it does happen."

"That doesn't seem very joyful," Ruby said.

Pyrrha chuckled. "Joy was perhaps the wrong word in that particular case, but the whole city does come together to do honour to those that we have lost, to those that have come before us, those that wait as shades for us to join them. It is not a festival of overwhelming jubilation, but it is not unpleasant."

"And it's not like there's no fun to it, either," Arslan added. "On the first and last night of the festival, when it is said that the boundaries between the living and the dead are thinner than normal, people dress up in monster masks to ward off spirits and go around demanding candy from strangers."

There was a moment of silence.

"What does that have to do with warding off evil spirits?" asked Yang sceptically.

"You placate them with offerings," Pyrrha said. "Not knowing who is a real spirit and who is disguised as one. Although—"

"It's all got a bit commercial these days; people just dress up in costumes," Arslan said. "Great fun, though, if you're a kid."

"Yeah, it sounds like it," Ruby agreed. "It's a shame we didn't have anything like that growing up; that would have been so cool, dressing up as monsters and going around people's houses asking for candy."

"And throwing eggs at them if they didn't give you enough," Arslan added.

"That's just mean!" Ruby cried. "Why would you do that?"

"Because we were mean kids, probably, and we didn't get a lot of chances to do stuff like that," Arslan admitted. "I bet Pyrrha never did anything like that."

"My diet did not allow me to eat candy, so I never troubled with any of that," Pyrrha murmured.

She could have added that she spent the first and last nights of the Festival of the Dead with her mother, communing with her father's spirit, or trying to, seeking to feel his presence from the other world. She could have, but she did not; it was personal, after all, and she feared to expose herself to ridicule for something that meant a great deal to her.

"Also you're too good to throw eggs at someone's house," Arslan said.

"Well … yes, you are probably right about that," Pyrrha murmured.

"Anyway," Arslan said, "my point is that nothing brings people together like a public holiday, and that will be true here too. When I was a kid, we used to watch the matches at school."

"Isn't school out this time of year in Mistral?" asked Ruby. "It is here in Vale."

"Technically," Arslan said. "But, it's a bit like how school is out, but we're all still here anyway. Where I grew up, a lot of parents couldn't afford to take weeks off work to look after their children — I'm talking five-year-olds, eight-year-olds, that kind of age — so the schools stay open, and there's somewhere to go to do your holiday homework and, in the meantime, watch movies and play in the playground and stuff. And watch the Vytal Festival when it was on."

"Every year, in Canterlot," Rainbow said, "the Apples put up a big screen in their barn, and everyone comes around to sit on the hay bales or just on the ground and watch the fights together. Well, not everyone everyone, but a lot of folks."

"Neon and I had a ritual," Ciel said. "Her mother has no great care for the tournament, and so Neon would come around to my house to watch it with my family. But, while she was there, her mother would record each match. And so, we would first watch the match live in the company of all of my little brothers, and then we would go back to Neon's place and watch it again alone together and get to appreciate it on a different level."

"Apart from the one year when we got to go to Vale and see the final fight live," Yang said, "we used to just watch the matches at home on TV. But it was the only time of the year when Dad would try and barbecue, something about it being the right time and the right occasion."

Ruby grinned. "Remember that one time he almost set the garden on fire?"

"Oh, yeah, he sucked at that barbecue so much, it was ridiculous," Yang said, covering her face with one hand. "Like, Dad, there's a perfectly good oven in the kitchen, just grill the burgers and the hotdogs, they'll taste fine, but no, 'I'm a man, girls, I've got this. It's in my DNA.' N-no, Dad, no, it isn't, and no, you don't. And it was even worse when Uncle Qrow tried to help him."

Ruby covered her mouth as she giggled. "Wouldn't have been the same if they hadn't tried, though."

"No," Yang agreed. "No, it wouldn't. Just like it wouldn't have been the same if we'd eaten off regular plates and used the knives and forks out of the drawer."

Ciel frowned. "I can see that you ate with your hands, but was there nowhere to put anything down?"

"Paper plates," Yang explained. "And plastic disposable cutlery."

"But why?" Penny asked.

"Because it felt right," Ruby said. "It made it feel like being at a fair, almost like we were there."

Yang glanced at Pyrrha. "So, Pyrrha, any Vytal Festival traditions that you had?"

"Not particularly," Pyrrha confessed. "I also used to watch the matches twice, once for pleasure and once for analysis of the techniques of the fighters, what they could have done differently or better."

"I don't have any Vytal Festival traditions," moaned Penny dispiritedly.

"Neither do I," Blake said. "It's not a big deal."

Yang frowned. "I get why Blake doesn't have any, what with the whole White Fang thing and all, but why don't you have any, Penny?"

"Because Penny's father was very disapproving!" Rainbow blurted out quickly.

"Yes, he disapproved of … the Vytal Festival," Ciel said. "He would not allow Penny to watch the tournament."

"Sounds charming," Yang muttered. "Who disapproves of the Vytal Festival? Everyone loves the Vytal Festival." She grinned and gave Penny a slapped pat on the back. "But look on the bright side, Penny: you get to make whole new Vytal Festival traditions right here with all your friends!"

Penny gasped. "That's right! Oh, that's going to be so much fun, I can hardly wait!"

"None of us can, Penny," Ruby assured her.

"By the time this is over, we'll all have a bunch of awesome new memories," Rainbow said. "We owe that to ourselves. Great fights, great friends, how can we not?"

Pyrrha's scroll buzzed. So did Arslan's.

"Excuse me," Pyrrha murmured as she got out her scroll to see that she'd received a text message.

"What is it, Pyrrha?" asked Penny.

"I am invited to dine with Polemarch Yeoh tonight aboard the battleship Dingyuan," Pyrrha announced.

"And so," Arslan said, "am I."

XxXxX​

The interior of the Mistralian flagship — the Dingyuan, the name meaning 'Eternal Peace'; Pyrrha could not help but find it a strange name for a warship — had the same faux-antique style of so much else that came out of Mistral. The floor on which Pyrrha and Arslan's feet trod was wooden, as were the walls of the corridors down which she was shown as she was led towards the commander's cabin. Quite what the Valish would make of this when they took possession of the vessel, she could not say.

As the two of them walked, Pyrrha smiled politely at the crewmen and soldiers she encountered on the way, waving back when they waved to her, courteously acknowledging the kind of awe in which she was regarded by some of them.

Arslan waved also, and her smile seemed a little more genuine on her face, or at least, Pyrrha could not help but see it so.

"You don't like this, do you?" Arslan whispered out of the corner of her eye.

"How can you tell?" Pyrrha asked quietly.

"'Cause you've got that expo smile plastered onto your face like in the publicity; I can tell it's fake."

"Can anyone else tell?" asked Pyrrha anxiously.

"Nah, you're pretty good at this; I only notice because I've been around you a lot."

"Hmm," Pyrrha murmured wordlessly, glancing around the ship at the sailors who glanced at them, smiled at them, waved to them, took their pictures as they moved through the corridors of the immense battleship. Who were they? How had they come to be here, crewing Mistral's ships on their first and last voyage for Mistral? Sailors on civilian airships, she supposed, lured by better pay perhaps. Would they remain in uniform? It seemed as though Mistral would certainly seek to construct its own airships in the future, to build a fleet to go along with its new army, but would these men remain to crew it, or would they go back to their peaceful occupations and forsake the realer risks that would come being part of the crew of an active warship?

A part of her recognised, or at least considered, that it was no bad thing for Mistral to have an army and a navy; Atlas did, after all, and even Vale possessed a self-defence force. There were far, far worse things in the world, after all, than to have a force under arms to protect the city and the kingdom from attack. But at the same time, as she looked back at all the faces looking at her and Arslan, at the men and women in their blue overalls stained with sweat and grease, in their uniform tunics with blue and white neckerchiefs tied around their necks, in their cloth caps and berets with 'Dingyuan' picked out in white stitching, she could not help but wish that these men and women were not endangered, even if they had volunteered for danger. A part of her, the princess part of her perhaps, could not help but wish that she and those like her could protect the people and the realm without the need for its common folk to venture their own lives upon the hazards of the field.

"It's a nice ship, this," Arslan said. "It seems almost a shame to sell it."

"A warship's worth is not its interior," Pyrrha murmured. "I have no doubt the new ships Mistral acquires will be much more effective and will look just as nice on the inside."

Pyrrha and Arslan were shown into a spacious cabin, with a bed shoved up against the wall and table set for three. A variety of antique weapons — swords, bows, early and primitive guns of various types — hung on the walls, as did various kinds of lutes with an increasing variety of strings.

Polemarch Yeoh, dressed in a blue uniform with gold brocade around her wrists, smiled as the two students, each wearing her huntress attire, were ushered in. "Lady Pyrrha, Miss Altan," she said, striding forward and holding out one hand. "Thank you for accepting my invitation."

"The gratitude is mine, ma'am," Pyrrha said as she took the older woman's hand. The commander's grip was firm and strong.

"And so is the honour," Arslan added as she shook the Polemarch's hand in turn.

"Not at all; I'm honoured to host the great champions of the arena, the heroes of Mistral," Polemarch Yeoh said, without a trace of anything but sincerity in her voice. "In fact, I almost hate to ask, but would you mind having your picture taken? I'm afraid my granddaughter will never believe I've met you both without some kind of proof."

"Oh, of course," Pyrrha said. "We'd be glad to, wouldn't we?"

Arslan nodded. "Always happy to pose for a picture."

Polemarch Yeoh chuckled. "I believe your fame owes as much to the grace with which you bear it as to your respective skill at arms."

She put her arms around their shoulders, placing herself in the middle of Pyrrha and Arslan so that they were lined up in height order, as Yeoh turned the both of them around to face the yeoman who had shown them to the room.

He had already gotten his scroll out and was wielding it like a camera.

Polemarch Yeoh drew them both a little closer to her, while she beamed delightedly.

Arslan grinned and made a peace sign with one hand.

Pyrrha smiled and waved.

"Got it," the yeoman said.

"Excellent," Polemarch Yeoh said. "You've just made Grandma look very cool."

"Always happy to help a fan," Arslan said.

"How old is your granddaughter?" asked Pyrrha.

"Mei is six," Polemarch Yeoh said, "and very enamoured with you both, as so many of our people are."

"Oh, kid fans are the best," Arslan said. "No offence, ma'am, if you're one of my older fans, but at your granddaughter's age … they see you most clearly, I think. They don't believe all the gossip magazine crap about what a horrible person you are when the lights are off."

"Indeed," Polemarch Yeoh said, "or that you are a traitor to Mistral and to Remnant secretly in league with your enemies, eh, Lady Pyrrha?"

Pyrrha swallowed. "The … staunch support of the young is a comfort in trying times, yes. I am blessed by all those who continue to believe in me, but Arslan is correct, the faith of the children is … gratifying."

Polemarch Yeoh chuckled. "In as much as she can understand why some have turned against you, Mei cannot accept that someone so pretty as you could possibly have sinister motives. After all, princesses are never evil."

"Neither I nor Arslan claimed that their loyalty was logically motivated," Pyrrha admitted, "but it means much to me nonetheless."

"As it should," Polemarch Yeoh said. "After all, events have shown that the hearts of we adults can be fickle things; the faith of a child should be considered something precious and held dear while it lasts. Please, both of you, sit down. I would offer you wine, but you are still young, and I believe from your interviews that you do not partake."

"No, I don't touch the stuff," Arslan said. "I've seen too much of the worst effects of it."

"And my health regimen does not permit it," Pyrrha said, "but thank you for the offer."

"You are both very wise," Polemarch Yeoh said. "Alcohol will be the ruin of an athletic body. May I offer you some green tea instead?"

"That would be very kind of you," Pyrrha murmured.

Polemarch Yeoh clicked her fingers, and her yeoman bowed his head and disappeared, reappearing a very short while later with a tray on which he bore a pot of green tea and three small china cups.

Pyrrha and Arslan sat still and quiet as he set the cups in front of them and poured the tea.

"Thank you, Lin," Polemarch Yeoh said. She raised her cup. "To you both," she said, "and may I hope that I am joined by a future Vytal champion."

"You honour us, ma'am," Pyrrha said, before she drank.

"Do I exaggerate?" Polemarch Yeoh asked. "Of all the Mistralian students competing in the Vytal Festival, are there any more likely to take the laurels than the two of you?"

"It is not certain that either of us will be competing in the tournament," Pyrrha said.

"Speak for yourself, P-money," Arslan said. "I can secure my spot through victory. Although I don't know why you think Professor Ozpin won't pick your team to compete. In the first place, he owes you for sending you into Mountain Glenn, and in the second place, if he trusts you to go into Mountain Glenn, why wouldn't he think you were good enough for the tournament?"

"All the same, I would hate to presuppose," Pyrrha said.

"Your modesty does you credit, but I think Miss Altan speaks the truth," Polemarch Yeoh said. "I would be astonished if you and your teams were not both placed in the thirty-two teams that will open the tournament, and once there, I think — and most of Mistral agrees with me, I'm sure — that you will both progress all the way to the final eight."

"Unless we have the … unless we end up facing one another in the four by four round," Pyrrha said, a slight smile pricking at the corner of her mouth.

Arslan groaned. "Don't tempt fate, Pyrrha. I want … does it make me sound too like Cinder if I say I want to go one on one with you one last time?"

"So long as you don't want to destroy Vale, then you are nothing like Cinder," Pyrrha assured her.

"Low bar, but thanks," Arslan muttered. "The point is that … whether I have a chance or not, I want to stand or fall against you without Jaune sneaking up on me from behind or anyone having the chance to say that you would have beaten me if it weren't for my team ganging up on you or Jaune getting in your way."

"Jaune has improved greatly," Pyrrha declared. "He wouldn't hinder me in the way you suggest."

"Good for him, but not really my point," Arslan said.

"No, you … whether or not you have a chance?" Pyrrha repeated.

"I was there for your fight against Cinder, remember?" Arslan said. "But I'll give it my best shot, don't you worry."

"And then you will both retire, as has been mooted?" Polemarch Yeoh asked.

"It seems odd to speak of retirement at my age," Pyrrha said. "I will become a huntress and give my attention to it full time."

"Me too," Arslan said. "It wasn't what I originally planned, but … if I may, Polemarch, what are you doing here if not because you realised that the world was a more dangerous place than you'd thought and it needs capable people to step up and fight for it?"

"An excellent point," Polemarch Yeoh conceded. "If rather disappointing for Mei."

Arslan grinned. "I intend to make sure that there's plenty to entertain Mei and others about my adventures in the field."

"Indeed? Something to look forward to," Polemarch Yeoh said. "Mistral will mourn, of course, the loss of its prize entertainers, but for myself … it is a worthy cause to which you commit yourself, a worthier cause than any I served when I was your age. I must admit, I envy you, to be so certain of your future course at your age and to be so committed to it that the call of fame and fortune means so little to you."

"Well," Arslan muttered, clearing her throat, "I wouldn't go that far, but you have a sense of proportion, don't you?"

"Lady Pyrrha," Polemarch Yeoh said, "if I may ask … I do not ask what exactly happened under Mountain Glenn, but I do ask … what is going on that led to Mountain Glenn? Who is Cinder Fall, why did she conspire with the White Fang to breach Vale's defences? Though our Common Army may be small, as the appointed Polemarch, I have, I think, a right as well as a desire to know if some such danger, this madwoman or another like her, will soon emerge to cast over Mistral next?"

Arslan leaned forwards without a word.

"I…" Pyrrha hesitated. I will keep your secrets, Professor, but the Polemarch is right; she has a right to know. "I fear that similar danger may threaten all kingdoms, yes."

"Why?" Polemarch Yeoh demanded. "Who are these people, and what do they want?"

"Despite what has been alleged, I was not so close to Cinder as to privy to all her wants and desires," Pyrrha replied, "but I believe that she is a sort of … grimm cultist, of a particularly dangerous sect."

"Grimm cultists have sects?" Arslan asked. "I mean, everyone knows they can do some horrible things, but everyone also knows that they're basically a bunch of loser freaks, meeting in basements and chanting."

"Not this group," Pyrrha said. "They … they aim to—"

"I think I can guess what these deluded creatures aim at, to offer up our kingdoms and our cities to the monsters they worship," Polemarch Yeoh said.

"Um, yes," Pyrrha said. "Yes, that is it exactly. At least, I believe it so; as I say, I have not discussed Cinder's motivations with her in great detail."

Polemarch Yeoh ignored that, saying, "That there are such people in the world. I suppose it would be too much to ask that you know their plans for Mistral?"

"No, Polemarch, I do not," Pyrrha said.

Polemarch Yeoh nodded as she leaned back in her seat. "Then we must make ourselves as strong as we can and settle for that."

"By selling our ships?" Arslan asked. "I'm sorry, but if you were that worried, wouldn't you keep them? I may not be as well-educated as Pyrrha, but I know why a snail has a house: to live in it."

Polemarch Yeoh was quiet for a moment, leaning back in her chair. "You are correct," she said. "Although I am glad to know the truth about the attack on Vale, the truth is also that I do not believe there is an imminent threat to Mistral. If the attack on Vale had succeeded, that would be something else, but with the assault repulsed, the White Fang destroyed here in Vale and quiescent in Mistral, and Mistral lacking the obvious vulnerability of the Mountain Glenn tunnel … I am not too concerned. Madmen as these cultists are, they would need to be as foolish as they are mad to attempt a new assault so soon after the failure of their last. Who will help this Cinder Fall now, all her designs ending in failure? But the danger, though it is more apparent than real, is nevertheless of great use to Mistral, and to me.

"I have long been a client of the Ming family and a supporter of the Self-Strengthening faction in the Council. Why should Mistral be dependent upon Atlesian protection? Why should we have no army of our own with which to defend not only ourselves but also our neighbours? Why should we weaken ourselves to a handful of swords, content to see our brave young people enlist not under the banner of their kingdom but in a plethora of mercenary companies?"

"Or become huntsmen and huntresses," Pyrrha murmured.

"Of course," Polemarch Yeoh conceded. "I am not suggesting anything like the Atlesian Specialist system, but I see no reason why we should not have troops, a fleet; even the Valish can say as much, and we are a larger and a wealthier kingdom than they, more populous, rich in martial heritage—"

"Perhaps the fact that our heritage is one of warrior heroes, not of soldiers, explains our present, or until recent, lack of an army," Pyrrha said.

Polemarch Yeoh smiled. "Very likely, that has something to do with it, but do you think that warrior heroes alone are sufficient for today's world?"

"I … would like to," Pyrrha replied softly, "but in all honesty, I cannot say for certain."

Polemarch Yeoh nodded. "For too long, the Council and the people have balked at the expense of ships and men, content to leave things as they are, to keep the tax rates low, to trust in huntsmen. The Breach may not have cost many Valish lives, but it has shocked Mistral out of its complacency, and for that, I welcome it. With this threat, this shadow looming over the city, I will fashion a great instrument, a weapon such as none of the great lords of Mistral's past dreamed of possessing, and if ever I am questioned, if ever anyone asks if so much lien may be spent, I will tell them 'remember the Breach and think on such a sight in Mistral's streets,' and that will quiet them. And it all begins here, selling the Valish our antiques and using the proceeds to buy new, first-rate ships capable of standing up to any grimm or Atlesian man-of-war in battle."

"And what if you're wrong?" Arslan asked. "What if the danger is realer than you think?"

Polemarch Yeoh was quiet for a moment. "I hope," she said, "it will not come to that."

"So do we all, I think," Pyrrha said softly. "So do we all."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Parallels and Divergences

​

"Hey, Yang," Blake said, "can I talk to you for a second?"

Yang paused on her way to the door, one hand already reached out to grasp the handle. She let that hand fall to her side as she turned to face Blake. "Sure thing, what's up?"

The two of them were in the dorm room, Team YRBN's dorm room, that was currently Blake's room but which wouldn't be for very much longer.

Blake supposed that it had always felt like a transient space for her, somewhere that she was passing through, not putting down roots, a place that was merely somewhere for her to stay while she figured out where she wanted to spend the foreseeable future. She hadn't done a lot to make the room her home, although the same could have been said about the BLBL room, when to all indications she had been set to spend four years there.

In any case, the decision to move was not a surprising one; the signs had been there from the beginning.

Hopefully, Yang would see it the same way.

"How's the parade planning going?" Blake asked; it was putting the subject off, she knew, but at the same time, she didn't want to get straight down to business; why shouldn't she and Yang chat a little bit first?

"It's going slower than the parade hopefully will," Yang replied, grinning, "but we'll get there. Most things are pretty hashed out by now, even the teams who want to take part. Now we just need to put them in order."

"Are there teams who don't want to take part?"

"Bluebell don't seem very interested," Yang replied. "Which is kind of ironic, considering that Ruby thought of them specifically when she argued that teams that weren't competing should be allowed to join the parade."

"Did Bon Bon give you a reason why she wasn't interested?"

"She said she didn't feel as though they'd earned the right," Yang said. "I think … I think she's still kind of down about Sky."

"Understandable," Blake murmured. "That kind of pain doesn't go away so easily."

"Ruby thought it would honour him," Yang said. "Honour his memory, you know; like, the team parading with an empty space where he should be. A huntsman who gave his life for the people."

"I'm sure it sounded good to Ruby," Blake said, "but to Team Bluebell, it would seem a lot like rubbing salt in the wound, not deliberately, but … it would remind them of what they've lost. I don't blame them for not wanting that."

"Honestly? Me neither," Yang said. "They're the only First Year team that isn't joining in; the only other Beacon teams that wanted out were a few Third and Fourth Years who did the parade in the last festival in Atlas. Apparently, two years ago, all the students wore uniforms, and the Shade students really stood out."

"Because they don't have a uniform at Shade."

"Precisely," Yang agreed. "That's why we're all going to march through Vale in our combat gear, so that everyone looks the same. I mean everyone looks different, but we'll all look the same in our embrace of difference, if that makes sense?"

"Unity through diversity," Blake said, "the spirit of Vytal."

"I think the spirit of the Vytal Festival ought to include winning some fights as well, but sure, unity through diversity, what our ancestors fought a war for. Or fought a war against, depending on where you come from."

"Depending on where you come from, it might be possible to have ancestors who fought on neither side," Blake pointed out.

"True enough," Yang admitted. "Ruby found out some stuff about our mom while you were away in Atlas, about where she came from and how she got to Beacon. You know, she came from beyond the kingdoms, the land that Vale and Mistral both tried to colonise and ended up starting a war over?"

"Obviously, I didn't know that, since you only just found out yourself," Blake said.

Yang chuckled. "Yeah, that's a good point. But my real point is that I wonder which side her family fought on, or if they fought on any side or just sat out the war and waited to see which side would win."

"That doesn't sound much like a Rose, does it?" Blake asked.

Yang snorted. "No, no, it does not. But if you told me that Mom's grandfather didn't fight for either army but protected the people from the grimm drawn by the emotions of the war, I could believe that. It would fit with the whole silver-eyed thing."

Blake nodded. "And your father's family? I can't help but notice that Xiao Long is a Mistralian name—"

"Yep," Yang agreed. "According to my Dad, his great-grandpa got out of Mistral when they started cosying up to Mantle and half adopting all of their no-emotion policies. They were Valish by the time the war started. And how about you? Were your ancestors safe on Menagerie, or...?"

"We don't tend to trace our family histories back like that," Blake explained. "Well, no, some do; it depends whether you think that having been a slave is something shameful or that surviving slavery is something to be proud of."

"I guess I can understand that," Yang said. "I can't say I want to find out more about the bandit family that Raven came from."

"'Bandit'?"

Yang shook her head. "You've missed a lot while you've been away in Atlas," she said. "It wasn't only my mom that I found out more about. I learnt some more about Raven too. She paid me and Ruby a visit to talk about Salem and stuff. Oh, yeah, I know all about that. Sunset told me."

"Sunset told you?" Blake repeated. "When?"

"After the Breach, when Ruby was in the hospital," Yang said.

"Was she allowed to do that?"

"Probably not," Yang replied, "but I'm glad she did. I'd have been more glad if Ruby told me—"

"Are you…?" Blake hesitated for a moment. "Are you upset that I didn't tell you?"

"No," Yang said at once. "I mean, it explains stuff, for sure, but I wouldn't expect you to tell me a secret like that, any more than I'd expect you to tell Ren or Nora. It was a secret, you were told in confidence, and … it's not like you really owe us anything. I mean, it explains a lot about what you were up to, but like I said, I wouldn't expect you to unburden yourself to me. You didn't owe me the truth. Maybe even Ruby didn't owe me the truth; it was just … disappointing that she didn't tell me."

Blake frowned slightly. "Are you and Ruby okay?"

"Yeah!" Yang declared, turning away from the door and walking back towards the window. "Yeah, we're cool. It's all good now. I was upset for a while, but … we're cool."

"I see," Blake murmured. She placed one hand upon the desk that ran along the side of the wall up until the door; the wood felt cool beneath her fingertips. "So … what do you think? About … everything?"

Yang said nothing for a few seconds. Her hands clenched into fists and then unclenched again. She approached the window seat but did not sit down; instead, she bent down, leaning against the window seat, looking out the window at the open grounds heading towards the cliffs.

"I got two minds about it," she admitted. "Or maybe two souls, like that book of yours. One part of wishes that Ozpin had found me worthy to tell, like he found Ruby and Pyrrha. Wishes that he wasn't so afraid that I'll turn out like Raven that he could see how like my mom and dad I am. Or that he'd tell me that I was like my mom and dad by trusting me the way that he trusted them. A part of me wishes that he'd chosen me to fight alongside Ruby in all this—"

"To be with your sister or to be one of the chosen few?" asked Blake quietly.

Yang turned her head to look at Blake. "Can it be both?"

The corners of Blake's lips turned upwards somewhat. "Yes," she said, "I suppose. I mean, I don't see why not."

Yang smiled briefly. "So that's one part," she said, "but the other part … the other part of me gets why Uncle Qrow didn't want either of us to know anything about this, and it doesn't envy the fact that this is your life now. How do you feel about this? The fact that you're committed to this, locked into it?"

"I'm not sure that I'm locked into anything," Blake replied. "It's not like I've sold my soul to anyone. If I want to, I can always walk away."

"Like Raven?"

"I was going to say 'like your father,'" Blake said. "He's a teacher, isn't he?"

Yang nodded. "He teaches Elementary Plant Science at Signal Combat School."

"'Plant Science'?"

"Yeah," Yang said, "what's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," Blake said. "I just would have expected you to say that he taught combat or something."

Yang chuckled. "Nah, Dad couldn't teach any fighting style other than his own, which wouldn't be great for any teacher but especially not one who doesn't even bother with weapons. He taught me how to fight, but he couldn't even teach Ruby, let alone other people's kids."

"He taught you, but you decided to use weapons?"

Yang shrugged. "Dad taught me to hit hard and hit fast, so I figured why not give myself an edge to let myself hit extra hard? And then, when I was thinking about how I might do that, strapping a pair of guns to my wrists seemed like a pretty obvious way to do it. Plus, it would let me hit anything that tried to stay out of reach of my fists, you know?"

"No, I get the logic behind it," Blake said. "Just like I get why you feel the way you do. It's … it's a lot."

"But you decided to get involved anyway," Yang said. "You say that you can always quit later, but right now, you decided to jump in."

Blake was silent for a second. "I … I suppose I've always been the kind to jump in, feet first. Or head first. It's just who I am; it seems I can't see a hopeless battle without wanting to hurl myself into it. Not that I think this battle is hopeless. It … it's difficult, but it's been won before, for years."

"You mean it hasn't been lost."

"In this kind of fight, isn't not losing the same as winning?" asked Blake. "If we hold our ground, if we preserve life and the kingdoms and the relics, isn't that the equivalent of a win? Yes, Salem can always try again later, but … it doesn't mean she hasn't been beaten in the here and now. And in the meantime, the world changes. It gets better, it moves forward. And that's a different kind of victory, maybe even the kind that I'm more interested in."

Yang nodded. "I guess I can see that. I mean, personally, I prefer victories where you can see that you've won, preferably because the other guy is a mess on the floor at your feet, but I can certainly see that. But … Blake, can I ask you something about this fight you're a part of, that Ruby's a part of, about the work that you do for Ozpin?"

"Sure," Blake said, "since you seem to know so much already, I don't see the real harm in telling you more, if you want to know."

"Did you know that they did stuff like what they were planning to do to Pyrrha?" asked Yang. "Did you know that that was the kind of thing they were involved in, that you'd be involved in?"

"No!" Blake said, her voice rising to match the firmness in her tone. "No, I had no idea about the machine, or about the Fall Maiden — I wasn't even told about the Maidens; I had to find out from Sunset and the others. I … I would never be a part of something like that, not to Pyrrha, not to anyone."

"But you are a part of it," Yang said. "Aren't you?"

Blake shivered. "I … I suppose that's difficult to argue with, no matter how much I might want to. Is this another moment that makes you glad you're not involved?"

"Is it better to stand on the sidelines while something awful happens?"

"It might not be better than standing on the inside while something awful happens, but it certainly makes you less morally culpable," Blake murmured. "I'm not going to try and defend what Ozpin planned to do to Pyrrha; it was … indefensible. To sacrifice someone like that, and in that way, it … 'exploitation' hardly seems to begin to cover it."

"You're right," Yang said. "I'm not involved. But my uncle is; he's right there in the middle with Ozpin and General Ironwood, he knew all about this, and he was ready to go along with it. My own uncle, and he was going to do that to one of Ruby's teammates, knowing the likely consequences. I just … I'm having a hard time remembering that the guy who was willing to do that is the same Uncle Qrow who got us tickets to the final of the Vytal Festival tournament."

Blake said nothing. There was, she felt, very little that she could say, not knowing this Uncle Qrow at all, and with her not being a part of the family. Also holding her tongue was the fact that, well, Yang wasn't exactly wrong, was she? It was, well, she had called it indefensible, and she had meant it. Blake would give her life for a just cause, if that was required — some might say that she would give her life even where it not required because some people worried too much, Rainbow Dash — but to give someone else's life for the greater good … that was the logic of the slave owner, of Calliope Ferny and Jacques Schnee, of lives destroyed in the name of higher purpose.

Of course, that higher purpose was always decided for by someone other than the person doing the sacrifice.

Get into that machine yourself, Professor, before you ask Pyrrha to do so.

"The only thing that I can say," Blake said, "is that Pyrrha is okay. Pyrrha is going to be okay because Sunset convinced Professor Ozpin not to go through with it, but to try something else. And that was only possible because Sunset was in Professor Ozpin's confidence, because they … trusted one another. Imagine if Sunset had turned her nose up at working with Professor Ozpin because she didn't trust him, because she had too many scruples, or for any other reason. Then Pyrrha would have had a stark choice, get in the machine or don't, and there would have been no one to offer another way or convince Professor Ozpin to take it. Yes, standing aside means that you're implicated in anything messy, but it's only by being there, a part of something, that you can persuade the powers that be to maybe … not do it."

"Is that why you're going to Atlas?" Yang asked.

"That … is actually what I wanted to talk to you about," Blake admitted. "I turned in my transfer request with General Ironwood a little while ago. All of this stuff with Pyrrha, it … it drove it out of my mind a little bit, or I would have told you sooner."

"Honestly, it's not like I'm surprised," Yang said. She turned to face Blake, a smile on her face and laughter in her voice. "Apart from anything else, the way the Atlesians lifted you up on their shoulders and carried you around the courtyard was kind of a clue."

Blake covered her mouth as she chuckled. "Yeah, that was … they can get a little enthusiastic."

"Don't say that like it's a bad thing," Yang said. "You're worth getting a little enthusiastic over."

"That … is a very kind sentiment with no grounding, considering that we've done nothing together," Blake said, "but thank you anyway, although I don't feel as though I deserve thanks, all things considered. I feel … are you sure you're okay with this?"

"Why wouldn't I be okay with this?" asked Yang. "What are you worried about?"

"The fact that I'm leaving you a team member down?" Blake suggested.

"Ah, don't worry about it, me and Nora are both good enough to be worth one and a half huntresses each, at least," Yang declared, pumping one fist as she said it. "And you were pretty clear up front when we took you in that you might be doing this, so it's not like I can't say that I wasn't warned." Yang sat down on her bed. "Do you know what the difference is between someone abandoning you, and someone walking their own path?"

Blake shook her head. "Not off the top of my head; fortunately, I have a feeling that you're going to tell me."

Yang smiled. "When someone abandons you, they don't let you know ahead of time that they're going to do it. They don't say that they're going to leave, they don't explain why, they're not up front that they have priorities and those priorities don't include you. They don't give you a choice between accepting them as they are, knowing that they'll leave someday, or not. They're just … gone one day, just like that, out of your life without a word, without a reason, leaving you to wonder what it was you did to push them away." She got up off the bed and started to walk towards Blake. "Is this what you want?"

Blake nodded. "It is. I think in Atlas I can do the most good."

"Then go for it!" Yang cried. "Live your life. Live your best life. Kick ass and knock 'em dead." She held out one hand. "I'm sorry that I didn't get a chance to know you better, but if this is what you want, then who am I or Ren or Nora or anybody to stand in your way? It's your life, and you can only live it once."

Blake took her hand, feeling Yang's fingers close about her with a firm grip. "Thank you for understanding. I … I'm sorry that we didn't get more of a chance to be a real team too, but … this is where my road lies, I'm sure of it."

"Even after everything you've been through there?" Yang said. "Everything you've seen?"

"Everything I've seen has convinced me that Atlas needs good people to do good," Blake said. "It's too important, and too powerful, to be left to the likes of Jacques Schnee or Calliope Ferny. There's so much good that can be done in Atlas, so much that can be done with the power of Atlas … but only if we put ourselves out there and fight for it, only if we work within the system. Otherwise, it's just like I said, we might have clean consciences, but that won't stop these things from happening. I'm not going to walk away, not when I can stay and fight."

Yang grinned. "And with that attitude, I'm sure you'll go far."

"I hope so," Blake replied. "Plus … the people in Atlas make it worth sticking around for."

"Well, that's always a welcome bonus," Yang agreed. Her face fell, the smile vanishing, her expression becoming more serious. "Have you told Sun yet?"

Blake hesitated for a moment, looking away from Yang. "No. No, I haven't."

Yang let go of Blake's hand as her own hand fell down by her sound. "Okay, now that does annoy me, a lot more than the fact that you're leaving this team. I told you the difference between abandoning someone and walking your own path; well, you're abandoning Sun, and he deserves better." She paused. "You know he really cares about you, but … you didn't call him, you didn't even text, he's been here all on his own, and … do you know what's been going on here since the Breach, while you've been gone?"

"You mean … the fact that people are turning against Atlas?"

"And the faunus," Yang said. "I don't think that Sun's ever seen anything like it before; growing up in Vacuo, he's been pretty sheltered from the whole thing. And then this, and the news from Atlas about the SDC … he's taken it hard."

Blake frowned. "How hard?"

"Talking about how the White Fang might not have completely the wrong idea hard," Yang explained. "And he's had no one that he can talk to about it because you left, and you haven't tried to keep or get in touch with him at all. Did you even think about him at all when you were up in Atlas? Do you even care about him at all?"

There was a knock on the door that prevented Blake from responding.

"Hold that thought," Yang said as she turned around and marched over to the door, her footsteps heavy upon the dorm room floor.

She flung the door open to reveal Sun on the other side.

"Hey, Sun!" Yang cried. "Speak of the beowolf."

"Hey, Yang," Sun said. "What's up?"

"Oh, nothing, I was just on my way to carry on planning the big parade. Blake and I were just talking before I left."

"Blake!" Sun cried — actually, no, crying was a bit too quiet for what he did — he yelled her name and stuck his head around the door to look at her. "Hey, Blake," he repeated. "It's … that is … I was hoping we could talk."

"Be my guest," Yang said, with almost inappropriate enthusiasm. "Like I said, I was just leaving."

She grabbed Sun by the scruff of the neck and half dragged, half threw him into the YRBN dorm room and out of the corridor. He stumbled in, looking for a moment as though he was about to stumble so far in that he smacked straight into the window.

"I'll leave you to it," Yang declared cheerily, as she walked out of the room without another word, slamming the door shut loudly behind her.

I take your point, Yang, Blake thought.

She did need to have this conversation, however awkward it might be — and it did have the potential to turn awkward in a whole host of ways, if what Yang had said was true — because … because Yang was absolutely right. She had left Sun behind, and she was abandoning him, and she should have called, or if she wasn't going to call, then she should have made that clear to him because … because he deserved better. He deserved better than someone who … someone who didn't even take him for granted because the truth was that she didn't even do that. If she had taken him for granted, then she would have come to find him when she got back, expecting him to be there waiting for her, but she hadn't done that. She hadn't even done that. She wasn't taking him for granted, she was … she was acting like she didn't care whether he waited or not because he didn't matter to her.

Sun deserved better than that.

He deserved better than that because he was a really nice guy, because he was sweet and kind and funny and … and the truth was that Blake wasn't sure if that was enough for her. The other thing that Yang had gotten right, one of many things that Yang had gotten right, was that Blake was on a path. She was on a journey. She had chosen her road, and she would walk it to the end. And that path … Blake wasn't sure how Sun fit into that path, that path that led to Atlas, up through the ranks to power and control. That wasn't what Sun wanted; she wasn't sure what Sun wanted; Blake wasn't sure if Sun was sure what Sun wanted.

But Blake … Blake couldn't stop for him. She had to move forward, even if that meant walking alone.

But Yang was right, she should have told him that.

She did not tell him that, though. With something like this … she had no idea where to start.

And so the silence lingered in the room, the two of them not quite looking for one another.

"Hey," Sun said, scratching the back of his neck with one hand.

"Hey," Blake murmured, looking down at the floor.

Sun hesitated for a moment, before he said, "It's good to see you again. You look well."

"Thank you," Blake said softly. "So do you."

"Yeah, well," Sun replied, shrugging his shoulders.

Blake closed her eyes. "I'm sorry, Sun. I should have called, or texted, or I should have done something, and if I wasn't going to do that, then I should have told you that I wasn't, but I didn't and I—"

"It's fine," Sun said.

"No, it isn't—"

"It's fine," Sun repeated, his voice calm, not rising. "I … I talked to Rainbow Dash earlier, and she reminded me about Adam. As much as he seemed like a total creep to me, you … you loved him, didn't you?"

"Yes," Blake whispered. "Or at least, I thought I did."

"And then … then you had to … and then you—"

"Saw him die?" Blake suggested.

"Yeeeeeeah," Sun said. "That. I guess that … that would … you went through a lot. And then you went to Atlas, and you went through a whole lot there, too."

"I … suppose you could say that," Blake replied. "I … Yang said … how are you doing, with the news from Atlas, with what's been going on in Vale?"

Sun didn't answer right away. Rather, he turned his back on her, walking towards Team YRBN's bathroom. His monkey tail was drooped down behind him, trailing along the floor, not moving at all as though it had gone limp.

He reached the bathroom door, but instead of walking through it, he put his hands on the frame on either side of the door, leaning against it, back bending as his head bowed down.

"I feel like I've been a kid this whole time," he said. "Like a kid, or asleep."

"Because you'd never experienced anything like this before?" Blake asked.

"Because I didn't even think it was possible," Sun replied. "That faunus could be treated like that, that people could think like that, do that kind of thing. First the stuff in Vale, and then what you found in Atlas. Can I ask you something?"

"Are you going to ask me how I can wear an Atlas uniform?" Blake asked.

"Yes!" Sun said loudly. "Doesn't it make you angry, what happened? I mean, you used to be with the White Fang—"

"When I first met you, you didn't have a good word to say about the White Fang," Blake pointed out.

"Yeah, but that was before," Sun said. "I mean, even Rainbow admits the White Fang aren't exactly wrong."

Blake's eyebrows rose. "Rainbow said that?"

"Rainbow said that the White Fang are right that the faunus are discriminated against, they just have no idea what to do about it," Sun explained. "Is that what you think? Is that why you're going to Atlas?"

"I'm going to Atlas for a lot of reasons," Blake said. "I'm going because nonviolent protest didn't work; and violent terrorism hasn't worked and is immoral to go along with it; so why not try working within the system, being there where it counts, being in the room where it happens? I'm going because I have the right to go, because I'm a person, and faunus or not, I have as much right to wear the uniform of Atlas as anyone. I'm going because we can't stand apart, or we'll just encourage people to treat us differently. I'm going because I think that I can make a difference there, with the friends and connections I've made, with the things that I've done.

"And I'm going because … because it's wonderful." Blake said. "You should see it, Sun, it's … it's the most wonderful sight you've ever seen in your life, a city in the clouds, a shining city, a light in the sky, a testament to ingenuity and will, a … it's marvellous, in every sense, it is a marvel, it's … it's amazing, and the people who live there — Rainbow's friends, but also Weiss, who I got to know better while was in Atlas —I … I've never been anywhere else that made me feel quite like that."

"Even with all its problems?" asked Sun.

Blake hesitated. "Atlas does have problems," she admitted. "Great problems. But it has such great capacity too, and great virtues besides, and that gives me hope that the problems can be solved, and I want to be a part of that."

"You want to be in the arena," Sun said.

Blake nodded. "Yes. Yes, I suppose you could put it that way."

Now it was Sun's turn to nod. "I … I get where you're coming from. I get it. I don't agree with you, but I understand why you want this, and I believe that you think you're doing the right thing."

"But you don't agree with me," Blake repeated in a murmur.

"No," Sun said. "Now, I admit that I only found out about all of these problems like a week ago or something, and I haven't thought about them as long as you, but … these problems, they're not in Atlas, are they? They're in Mantle?"

"And Low Town."

"But on the ground, not in the clouds."

"That's right," Blake said quietly.

"Then isn't there a danger that you'll go to Atlas, this wonderful place up in the clouds, and you'll forget all about the problems down below, because you can't see them anymore?" asked Sun. "Isn't that what everyone else does? Isn't that why the problems were allowed to keep going for so long?"

"That … you might have a point," Blake admitted. "But I won't let that happen to me."

"Are you sure?"

"What would you have me do instead?" Blake asked.

"I'm not telling you what to do," Sun said quickly. "I'm not saying that you shouldn't do it. You should. It's what you want. It's just not something that I could ever do, put on a uniform like that, take orders—"

"It's not just taking orders," Blake said. "It's about being able to talk to the person who is giving the orders, and maybe talk them out of the bad ones. Atlas is going to exist whether I'm there or not. The difference is that, while I'm there, I can make a difference instead of decrying things from the outside."

"Like the White Fang?"

"Well, if decrying was all the White Fang did, that would actually be an improvement," muttered Blake.

Sun snorted. "Yeah, I guess you could say that." He paused. "I'm not saying that you shouldn't do what you want. I would never do that. You know what you want. You know what you want, and you're striding towards it; that … that's pretty incredible, to be honest. It puts me in awe of you."

Blake made a sort of gasping sound of disbelief. "I'm not that—"

"How many people our age know what they want to do and be and achieve with so much certainty as you?" Sun asked. "I didn't, I…"

He scratched at the back of his neck again, and his tail appeared to perk up a little bit, rising up off the floor, twitching slightly from side to side. "It's funny, you know; this year, I've been asking for advice on how to get closer to you, how to … how to close the gap between us because … because the truth is that I've always felt, I've always known, that I cared more about you than … than you—"

"That's not—"

"Let me finish," Sun said. "Please."

Blake swallowed. "Of course," she murmured. "Go on."

Sun nodded. He paused for a moment or two. "I asked Sunset, and she told me that I ought to devote myself wholly to you like I was your servant or something."

"I'm not sure I'd take Sunset's romantic advice," Blake said dryly.

Sun grinned. "And then I talked to Jaune, and he told me not to take that advice either, but to give you some space, not to bug you, not to make you think that I was obsessed. Only, I did that, and it didn't really seem to help. Not the way I wanted it to anyway. And then, most recently, I spoke to Rainbow Dash, and she helped me to get it. You've known for a long time what you wanted, where you were going, and you've marched towards it like you weren't gonna let anyone stand in your way, and that awed me, and it impressed me, and it made me think you were awesome, but what I should have done was let it inspire me, because the truth is … the truth is that you were walking towards your goal, and I wasn't going anywhere at all, so if it felt like you were leaving me behind … who did I have to blame but myself?"

"Please tell me Rainbow didn't tell you to blame yourself," Blake said. "Because you don't need to blame yourself for my issues, and if she did say that, then I will—"

"No, no, no, she didn't say that; Rainbow said that I needed to work out who I was and what I wanted to be," Sun said. "The other stuff, I managed to work out all on my own."

"Then you worked it out wrong," Blake said.

"Did I?" Sun asked.

"You…" Blake trailed off. "Not exactly," she admitted. "I have known what I wanted, and I have aimed to get it. And I can't … I can't stop. I can't turn away."

"No," Sun said. "I know. That's why I've thought about it, and I have decided that I am going to move to Mantle."

Blake blinked. "Come again."

"I'm moving to Mantle," Sun repeated.

"I heard you," Blake said, "but I don't understand."

"You think that you can change the world from Atlas," Sun said. "And that's great, that's your goal, and maybe you'll do it. I'm sure that you'll do it. But in the meantime, all the problems are in Mantle, down below, and while you've solved some of them, you can't solve all of them from up there in Atlas, at least not right away." Sun paused. "I'm not you. I don't have a vision for a better world, I don't have a grand plan, I don't have the charisma that makes people want to help me, that makes all the Atlas students want to carry me around—"

"I'm never going to live that down, am I?"

"Nope," Sun said, a smile breaking out across his face to make it brighter. "The point is that I'm not you. I'm not the kind of guy who can rise amongst the clouds. But I do know that people ought to treat each other well, that people ought to be safe, that they deserve to feel safe, to be safe, to know that someone cares about them and their problems … and I can be that guy, down in Mantle. Like you, like Rainbow said, it's not the … it's not the guy moaning who counts, talking about how awful things are, how awful Mantle is, it's the guy who is willing to get stuck in and try to fix things, or at least stop them from getting worse. I can be that guy, down there, on the ground, and maybe … maybe while I'm down there, I can … keep you tethered, so that you don't float away and forget all about us down below."

Blake stared at him. That was not what she had expected him to say. That was not at all what she had expected him to say. She would never have expected Sun to say anything like that. It was unlike him.

And at the same time, it was completely like him. Yes, he'd never shown much interest in faunus rights before, but they'd met because he'd seen her, this complete stranger, someone he didn't know, someone he had never spoken to before, and decided that she needed help, and he was going to help her. That was the kind of person he was, someone who saw those in need and jumped in.

"You realise what you'll be giving up," Blake said, "Haven, Neptune, your team—"

"Half my team hates me, and Neptune … yeah, it'll be a pain to miss Neptune, but we can still call, right? And besides, sometimes, you have to give things up to do the right thing, right?"

Of course, that was also the kind of person he was, someone who wouldn't hesitate to leave what he knew behind if that was what was required.

"And your schooling?" Blake asked. "You'll never get licensed."

"So?" Sun asked. "I can still help whether I've got a piece of paper or not."

Well, there was the question of how legal his help would be without a license, but if he actually went through with this — and Blake had little doubt that he would go through with this — then perhaps she could pull some strings to get him licensed without having to graduate from an academy.

"You're being very humble about the fact that you're giving up everything for a city you don't know and have never been to," Blake told him.

"I'm giving up some stuff that doesn't matter for a place that needs all the help it can get," Sun replied.

"You don't need to downplay it," Blake told him. "What you're proposing is so very … noble. It's incredible, really." She took a step towards him. "You are incredible."

"You've inspired me."

"No," Blake said. "No, I can't take any credit for this. None at all. This is all you."

She stared at him. He had always been handsome and fair to look on, but now … now, it was like she was seeing him, if not for the first time, then in a whole new light, as though the clouds had parted to reveal the sun behind. She felt as though she were seeing him now not as a boy, but as a man, a man of conviction, ready to fight the good fight.

Of course, that man had always been there, but now … now, he had blossomed.

"What you're doing," she said, "the path you've chosen is as worthy as mine at least, as worthy as any student in Atlas Academy, maybe more, for you'll be down there in the danger even as we're still safe in school. You are … you're so many virtues I could list that I don't know where to start, so I'll just say … I'll just say that Atlas and Mantle aren't so far away. Maybe I could fly down from the clouds to visit you on the ground, once in a while."

She reached out towards him, but did not take his hands. Her ears drooped downwards in nervous anticipation. "If … if you'd like that."

Sun stared at her, his blue eyes fixed on hers. He took a step closer to her. "You … you mean that?"

"I do," Blake replied. "We … we may be walking on different roads, but they lie … our paths lie in parallel, and so I don't see any reason why we shouldn't … reach out towards one another."

She took his hands, and he did not protest, not even as she pulled them towards one another.

"And so," Blake said, "even though I don't deserve it, I'm asking you if … I'm asking you to reach back."

Sun did not speak. He did not say a single word.

Instead, he surged forwards, gripping Blake's hands as he kissed her fully on the lips.

And that was all the response that Blake required.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Amber​

"Sunset," Twilight said, "I'm a little concerned about this."

Sunset looked at her. They were down in the vault, a camping light illuminating their table in the darkness of the underground chamber. The pale light of Amber's pod glowed in the shadows not too far away, beseeching and bewitching in equal measure. Soon — tomorrow, in fact — that pod would become unnecessary, for tomorrow, they were going to bring Amber round.

But tonight, apparently, Twilight had doubts.

"No offence, Twilight," Sunset said, "but isn't it a little late for that?"

"Probably," Twilight conceded, "but when you first suggested this, I was just relieved that nobody would have to … you know, with the aura transfer, that no one would … and then … I just get so worked up and focussed on a project, you know? But now that we're ready, now that we're about to do this … I'm a little worried."

"By what?"

"What's going to happen if, when, we pull this off," Twilight said.

Sunset frowned. "That's what you're worried about? Not the actual hard part, but what comes after?"

"What does come after?"

Sunset shrugged. "Amber wakes up. We have a Fall Maiden again." And then we have to hunt down Cinder so that both halves of the Fall Maiden's power are reunited in Amber.

Cinder, even if you did turn over a new leaf right this instant, I'm not sure that I could save you. Is it not inevitable that out of you and Amber, one or the other must die?

Somehow, she doubted that those particular misgivings of hers were the same as whatever was plaguing Twilight's mind at this moment.

"Sure," Twilight murmured. "Amber wakes up. But what … what will she be when she wakes up?"

Sunset's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean her aura has been ripped in half; goodness knows what that's done to her actual soul," Twilight said. She had a large, old, leather-bound book sitting on the desk in front of her. She turned it around and pushed it closer to Sunset. "Aura is a reflection of the soul, yes?"

"Sure."

"It's a metaphor that Clover returns to time and time again, often using some additional detail," Twilight said. "As she puts it, the difference between auras and souls can be explained using the idea of the distorted mirror, where different panes of glass can produce radically altered reflections. Like funhouse mirrors, except they didn't have funhouses in Clover's time, so she doesn't say exactly that, but that's certainly the general idea. Jaune's aura is huge not because he has a huge soul, so to speak — that would be kind of ridiculous — his aura is so much huger than anyone else's because his mirror is reflecting back his soul in such a way that it appears larger than it really is in the way that some mirrors can make you seem bigger or smaller than you really are."

"That's great, Twilight, but I'm not sure what you're getting at," Sunset said. "Aura is not the actual soul; when our aura breaks or runs out, we're not actually soulless beings in the interval until it comes back. What's done to the mirror is not actually done to the thing reflected in the mirror. If you look into a cracked mirror, it doesn't actually mean that your face is in pieces."

"But there's a reason simple aura damage doesn't kill us," Twilight said. "If Amber had just taken a couple of bad hits to her aura, then she wouldn't be dying right now. Her aura isn't just damaged; it's disintegrating."

"Dark magic."

"But what if there is some effect on her actual soul?" Twilight asked. "What if part of the reason her aura can't regenerate properly is because there's less for the mirror to reflect than there used to be?"

Sunset leaned back in her chair. "Okay," she said. "Let's accept that for the moment. What about it? She'll still be alive, and the alternative is that she dies one way or the other."

"I know," Twilight said. "I'm just worried that … what she's been through is so completely unprecedented even before we add in the trauma of Cinder's attack that led to her being in this condition. We don't know what effects this will have on her: emotionally, spiritually, mentally."

"But once again, I repeat that she'll be alive," Sunset said. "She might have some problems, and I'll accept that she's probably been through a lot, but whatever issues she might have, we can help her get through them. Celestia knows that everyone has helped me get through my issues."

"Is it the same thing?"

"I don't know, but why can't it be?" Sunset replied. "She'll be alive, Twi. In every other scenario, Amber dies in some way and probably so does Pyrrha. We don't know exactly what she'll be like … but we'll be able to find out, and that's not something that we can say in any other option, is it?"

Twilight hesitated. "No," she said. "And I wasn't actually suggesting not doing this, I just … I'm worried."

Sunset patted her on the shoulder. "It's going to be okay," she said. "We're going to save Amber, and then … whatever comes next, we'll handle it. Like we handle everything else."

Twilight smiled. "You're really good at that, aren't you?"

"At what?"

"Acting like you haven't a doubt."

"I don't have any doubts."

Twilight chuckled. "Yeah, sure." She glanced over her shoulder at Amber. "I don't want to be right about this. I want her to come out of that pod every inch the person she went in. Do you really think we can do it?"

"Yeah," Sunset said. "I think we can. I think we have to. We don't have a choice, for our friends' sake."

Twilight nodded. "For our friends' sake." She looked back at Sunset. "It's funny; if this works, we're going to make medical history, and nobody will ever know."

"Nobody will know half the things we do; that's what makes this so infuriating," Sunset said. "Saving the world, and nobody knows we're doing it. No glory, no parades, just … silent duty. But we're doing good, so…" She stood up. "You should get some rest, Twilight. We've got a big day ahead of us."

"And you've got the biggest day of all; why don't you rest yourself?"

"I plan to," Sunset said. "I just … I need to talk to someone while I'm doing it."

XxXxX​

In Sunset's dream, she was a unicorn. A unicorn sitting on one of the many balconies of the palace in Canterlot, looking out over the many sparkling lights of the city at night as they seemed to reflect the myriad lights in the night sky above.

"The irony is not lost on me," Luna said as she sat down beside Sunset, "that I rebelled against Celestia because I felt as though nopony would ever love the night as much as they adored the day, when if I had only had a little patience, I might have been free to see them do so."

"Could you have borne to sit still and endure for so long, Princess?" Sunset asked.

Luna was silent a moment. "No."

Sunset nodded. "Me neither."

Luna glanced down at her. "You dream of home."

"I dream of Canterlot," Sunset corrected her. "Beacon is my home now. Sapphire is my home."

"And yet you dream of Canterlot."

"I dream of peace," Sunset said. "I dream of a life free from fear and toil and turmoil. I dream of peace, for myself and for my heart's closest. Am I ready, Princess Luna?"

"No," Luna said. "But to make you ready would have required far more time than you have. You are as ready as your circumstances allow. You will have to muddle through."

"I told Twilight that I would succeed because I couldn't afford to fail."

"As good a reason as any to succeed, I suppose."

Sunset looked up at her. "Be honest, Princess, what do you rate my chances?"

Luna put one wing around Sunset. "You are inexperienced in this, it's true," she said. "And you could have perhaps have made more use of your powers in that world, but I would not have agreed to aid you this far, not even for Celestia's urging, if I did not think you had a chance. You have made promises that must be kept."

Sunset nodded in acknowledgement of that. "If I let Professor Ozpin down, I don't know what he'll be driven to do next … and I won't be able to stop him a second time."

"As you said, you cannot afford to fail."

Sunset was silent a while. "Twilight — the Twilight in my world — is worried that Amber will come out of this … changed. Different."

"She is probably right."

"She is?" Sunset asked. "What makes you say that?"

"Because dreams matter," Luna said. "What we see in our dreams affects us when we wake; although the dream may disappear, its effects will linger on in the back of the minds, or at their forefront in the case of a particularly vivid dream. What dreams this Amber has been having … I doubt they have been pleasant."

Sunset tapped her hooves on the balcony. "Any last minute advice?"

"Every dream is different, as every dreamer is," Luna said. "There is nothing specific I could say to benefit you, I fear."

"I suppose you've helped me enough," Sunset said. "Thank you, Princess, for everything."

"It is a difficult thing that you have chosen to undertake, Sunset Shimmer," Luna said, "but it is a noble thing, and for that reason alone, I wish you success in your venture tomorrow."

Sunset smiled tightly.

"But something else troubles you," Luna said. It was a statement, not a question.

"When Amber comes around, if I can bring her round," Sunset said, "we'll have to kill Cinder."

"Your friend."

"In a … manner of speaking," Sunset murmured.

"Is there any way such a thing can be avoided?"

"If there is, I don't see it."

"Yet," Luna said.

"Princess?"

"It took you a little time to see that there was a way in which another dire fate for one of your friends could be avoided, did it not?" Luna reminded her. "Focus on the task before you for now. Focus on Amber. Focus on saving her life. Then, when that is done, you can bend yourself to the task of saving Cinder's."

"If she even wants to be saved," Sunset murmured. "My friends would probably tell me to give up on her."

"No offence to your friends, but I have a somewhat different perspective," Luna said, "and I for one am very glad that Celestia did not give up on me."

Sunset smiled. "Then I won't give up either. I'll find a way … to save everyone." She got up onto her hooves. "Thank you for everything, Princess. Wish me luck tomorrow."

"Never stop reaching out, Sunset Shimmer," Luna said. "You may not grasp all things you reach for, but the moment you cease to reach out … is the moment all things will become beyond you."

XxXxX​

The vault was crowded.

Everyone was there — absolutely everyone — standing nearer or further away from Amber as they waited for Sunset's effort to begin: Qrow was lounging against the wall with his arms folded across his chest; Professor Ozpin was stood in the centre of the walkway, leaning heavily upon his cane, looking as though he might collapse from anticipation at any moment; Professor Goodwitch stood beside him, hands wrapped around her riding crop, her face impassive; General Ironwood stood at ease, with his hands clasped behind him, a little further away from Amber and from Professor Ozpin than the rest; Ruby and Penny, who had nothing particular to do with this but were here anyway, stood unobtrusively on the left-hand side of the vault; Ciel was helping Twilight with the last-minute preparations to the ice bath and all of her additional equipment that they would need to make a success of this; Rainbow Dash stood just a little beyond them, trying not to look at Amber but with her gaze seeming to be inexorably drawn back towards her like waves drawn back towards the shore; Jaune stood by, looking ready but nervous at the same time; Pyrrha put one arm upon his shoulder and smiled reassuringly at him; Sunset herself stood in front of Amber, looking upwards at the girl in the glass box. The girl they hoped to save.

I don't intend for your soul to go anywhere.

Qrow took a drink from his flask. "I still can't believe that you're letting them go through with this, Oz."

"If it saves Amber—" Professor Goodwitch began.

"Pretty big 'if,'" Qrow said.

"I thought you didn't like my machine, Qrow," General Ironwood said. "Shouldn't you be glad we don't have to use it?"

"I don't like your machine one bit," Qrow growled. "That doesn't mean that I believe in miracles." He shook his head. "Maybe I should get out of here before I screw things up for her."

"Not everything that goes awry is your fault, Qrow," Ozpin said patiently. "Amber's condition certainly is not. And I believe that the success or failure of Miss Shimmer's plan rests on far more than whether you are present or not."

"If you're sure," Qrow said. He took another drink. "But you never answered my question: what made you decide to put all your chips on this?"

"A conversation with a lady," Professor Ozpin said. "One who gave me a renewed appreciation for the virtues of hope and faith."

"Is that why you won't explain exactly how all of this is supposed to work?" General Ironwood said. "Or is that you can't?"

"So long as I can save Amber, General," Sunset said, "does it really matter to you how I did it?"

She had no wish to divulge Equestria and the source of her magic to him. He seemed a decent enough man, and Rainbow and Twilight both liked and respected him, but he was an Atlesian soldier first and foremost, and he might have … notions of how to employ her and her powers that did not necessarily accord with Sunset's own or with the desires of Princess Celestia.

"Trust me, General," Twilight said. "If anything can work, this will."

General Ironwood nodded. "Very well, Twilight. I'll trust you."

"When will you be ready to begin, Miss Shimmer?" Professor Ozpin asked.

"Twilight?" Sunset murmured, glancing in her direction.

Twilight looked down at the white, sterile ice bath that she had, with some difficulty, erected in the vault. It was filled with water and ice, obviously, and ready to receive Amber. An IV drip and some additional monitors stood nearby.

"I think…" she began. "Yes, I'm ready."

"Jaune?"

Jaune raised his hands. They glowed briefly with the light of his semblance. "Ready."

Sunset looked down at her hand. She had taken her glove off for the first time in a while. She'd had to if she was going to use her semblance. She clenched her hand into a fist.

This better work. For Pyrrha's sake, and Amber's.

"Then I'm ready too, Professor," she said. "Let's go."

"Right," Twilight. "Ciel, unseal the casket."

Ciel nodded briskly and strode to the very back of the vault, to where Amber slept in her enchanted sleep, where the soft blue light of her casket cast its glow upon the space around — and upon Ciel, too; she was framed as if in moonlight, or underwater, rendered with a touch of the ethereal by her proximity to the sleeping Maiden.

Ciel stopped in front of her, looking up at Amber, and then down, clasping her hands together over her chest, her eyes closed in prayer.

Nobody interrupted her, nobody chivvied her along; they let her pray, silently, lips moving without sound. If ever there was a moment for prayer, it was surely now.

And then Ciel walked past Amber to the controls located beside and just behind the sealed pod. Her nimble fingers began to tap swiftly upon the screen. "Unsealing … now."

The seals popped open, and white smoke began to leak from the edges of the glass-and-metal pod. Slowly, as if the machine itself possessed a sense of the gravity of the occasion, the lid of the pod began to elevate upwards, inch by inch, until it stood at a right angle to the pod itself, and Amber was exposed to the world.

The machines started to beep in alarm.

"Pyrrha," Sunset said, a single word, conveying all that needed to be said.

Pyrrha was already at the pod and, with great gentleness and even greater care, picked up Amber and held her like a bride upon her wedding day as she carried her towards the ice bath. The Fall Maiden seemed small and delicate in Pyrrha's arms, a fragile thing, slender and lithe of limb, so young.

So young to bear this burden.

The blue light from her pod, what light there was in this shadowy chamber, cast the scars upon her face into sharp relief, the wounds that Cinder had inflicted on her seeming to cast shadows of their own.

Pyrrha's face was grave, and her eyes were fixed on Amber as she lowered her into the ice bath as gently as though she were a babe.

The alarms that were being sounded began to quiet, although they did not silence as Twilight attached wired-up pads to Amber's arms. "The ice bath is slowing her metabolism, as expected. Applying the IV."

She jabbed a needle into Amber's elbow, said needle being in turn attached to a bag of light blue fluid.

"That should help too," Twilight said. "I'll keep monitoring, but…" She looked at Sunset. "It's time."

Sunset walked forwards. Pyrrha had laid Amber in the bath with her head closest to Sunset, and for a moment, Sunset simply looked down on her, floating amidst the icy water, her brown hair spreading out all around her face like a halo. With her eyes closed and her expression passive in repose, she seemed as much dead as asleep: like a drowned girl floating in the water.

Sunset did not have time to look long. She only had time to act. She raised her hand.

"Time to wake up," she said as she placed her palm flat on Amber's forehead.

Sunset gasped as her eyes began to glow pure white. She felt the heady rush of energy running through her arm as her under-utilised semblance sprang to life and then—

Thunder rolled in the skies above.

There was no lightning. There was no rain. There was nothing but the incessant rumbling of the thunder, growling on and on and producing no other effects but the sound, the sound in the boiling grey clouds up above, the constant pounding sound so loud it seemed as though it ought to shake the very world as the dark clouds consumed the sky.

Anger. Pain. Fear.

Those were the three emotions that Sunset felt. They were the only three emotions that she felt as she stood in the midst of a wood somewhere, with the thunder rolling on and on and the clouds growing ever darker above her. She felt the emotions that Amber was feeling, and Amber was feeling anger, pain, and fear.

The anger was … well, it wasn't quite as bad as the sheer rage at everyone and everything coursing through Cinder, but it was coming pretty close. The fear made Sunset want to cower on her knees in terror, putting her head in her hands and screaming for Celestia; the pain, the pain, Sunset wanted to scratch at her face until the skin fell off to try and get the pain to stop, she wanted to throw herself into a fire just to stop the cold, she wanted to plunge into the deepest darkness where no light could reach anything to just make it stop.

Sunset's breathing was coming shallow now, shallow and quick, and she had to fight to steady it. She had to fight. She had been prepared for something like this. Not for the deluge of terror and hatred mingling in Amber's soul — Twilight might have had more of a point than Sunset had initially credited — but for the need to protect herself from Amber's emotions. That was the risk with Sunset's semblance, that had always been the risk from the moment that it had activated and Sunset had been deluged with Cinder's fury. She had to block them out. She had to remain herself if she was to see this through.

That was part of what she and Luna had been practicing at nights. She had to focus on things that were hers, things that Amber would have no knowledge of, things that would counteract the fear and pain and anger that dominated Amber's mindscape. As the thunder howled, Sunset stood straight. She closed her eyes, armouring her soul in her own experiences against Amber's feelings and the things that had befallen her: Ruby falling asleep curled up against Sunset in their dorm room after the field trip to Forever Fall; Pyrrha recognising her as an equal on the rooftop after their duel; the four of them getting their picture taken with Fluffy in Benni Havens'; Celestia forgiving her for all her wrongs and welcoming her back into the embrace of her affection; Blake reaching out to her for help; dancing with Flash and ending things the right way; all her friends; the silver light in Ruby's soul driving away Cinder's darkness as that beautiful music played all around her.

Though they could not be with her here, they were all with her nevertheless, standing guard over the integrity of her own thoughts as Sunset, though she could feel the beating of Amber's feelings upon her soul like waves pounding at a sea wall, was able to keep her own feelings separate as she surveyed the world around her.

The clouds were not a part of any memory of Amber's; there was no lightning emanating from the thunder, and beneath the dark clouds, the sunlight was falling brightly on the forest as though the clouds weren't there, which they weren't. This was a symptom of Amber's troubles, a creation of her inner turmoil. Wherever this was, whenever this was, the day itself had been beautiful.

Wherever this was, whenever this was. One of the downsides of putting up an emotional barrier between herself and Amber was that things Sunset would have known straight away were unclear to her now. She would have to keep her eyes open and try to work things out the old-fashioned way.

And also work out if this storm was a sign of the damage to Amber's aura or simply a consequence of her having been through a lot. Sunset eyed it carefully. It didn't look as she and Luna had discussed the damage to Amber's soul appearing; according to Luna, it would take the form of tears in the world around her, reality itself being torn apart. This was not that. This was just a visible sign of Amber's emotions clouding over everything else.

She strained her ears. Was that…? Sunset listened carefully. Yes, there it was, barely audible beneath the sound of the constantly rolling thunder, but she could hear someone singing. Not like the music in Ruby's soul, but still beautiful. Whoever was singing had a lovely voice, for all that Sunset could barely hear it.

Although, as she strained to hear it so it became easier to hear, rising above the storm, or perhaps it was more true to say that the storm receded from her ears to let her better hear the singing. Whichever was true, Sunset followed the sound. It was not far; once she picked her way through the tall trees of this stout oak forest, she soon came to a ruined building with a dirt track leading to it from out of the trees.

It was not entirely clear to Sunset what kind of a building it was: it was square, with what looked like the remains of a tower at one end, built out of grey stone blocks, with buttresses and gargoyles decorating the exterior. It was almost all gone now, only a few crumbling remains and a single weather-worn gargoyle remaining of it. The singing was coming from within — as much as anything could be said to be within such a ruin — and so it was within that Sunset headed.

The floor was gone, replaced by the same grass that dominated without the ruin walls, but against the northern wall, there remained, though overgrown by vines and moss, a marble statue of a woman, swathed in a shawl, her hands clasped beatifically to her chest as she looked downwards to where people might have stood or knelt before her.

Right now, the statue was looking down at Amber; it was clearly she, for all that she had her back to Sunset, who was standing before the statue of the lady, standing in a patch of sunlight falling through a hole in the wall. And she was singing.

She was the source of that beautiful voice, standing mirroring the stance of the statue, with her head bowed and her hands clasped to her chest, singing so beautifully. Sunset wasn't sure if she'd ever heard such a beautiful singing voice before. Had even Princess Celestia sang so sweetly?

Sunset tentatively lowered her emotional defences; there were still the thunderclouds overhead, there was still the same anger and pain, but there was happiness here too; it was faint beneath the fear and anger, but she could feel it. She could even feel love.

"Who are you?"

Sunset turned to see Amber standing behind her. She was dressed in clothes that, although rustic in style, were clearly tailored, with golden bangles hanging from her wrist. A quick glance confirmed that the singing Amber had not moved, and in any case, this Amber — the one who had just demanded to know who Sunset was — had scars criss-crossing her face. The real Amber, the present Amber, the comatose Amber trapped in her own mind.

"Who are you?" Amber demanded a second time. "I don't remember you; you don't belong here." Her amber eyes widened. "Did she send you?"

Sunset raised her hands. "My name is Sunset Shimmer. I'm a huntress; Professor Ozpin—"

Amber screamed, and as she screamed, the thunder roared louder, loud enough to completely drown out the memory of her singing in the ruin, and as she shrieked in fury, she thrust out her hands, and Sunset was struck by an enormous gust of wind that knocked her off her feet, blowing her on her back along the grass.

"Get out of here!" Amber yelled. "You don't belong here! I don't want you here!"

Sunset picked herself up off the ground. "I know that you've been through a lot—"

"Go!" Amber screamed, and she hurled a second gust of wind at Sunset. But Sunset was prepared for it this time, and with a thought, she conjured up a shield that resisted Amber's blast as though it were nothing at all.

"I'm here to help you, Amber," Sunset said. "I know who you are, and I'm here to help. If you'll just trust me, I can get you out of here."

Amber shook her head, tears forming at the edges of her eyes as she retreated away from Sunset. "You can't help me. Nobody can help me. Just … just get out of here before one of them finds me."

"Who?" Sunset asked. "Who finds you?"

A shadow fell across the entrance to the ruin.

"Your voice is too lovely for the squirrels and the birds alone," Professor Ozpin said as he walked through the crumbling archway that was all that remained of the entrance to this fallen place. He was smiling; in fact, he looked more at ease than Sunset had ever seen him. His cane was nowhere to be seen, and he walked with the vigour of a much younger man.

Amber — the Amber of memory, the past Amber — turned to look at him, her green cloak swirling around her. She smiled; she was younger in this memory but not so much younger, perhaps a little younger than Ruby.

"Uncle Ozpin," she said, in a tone that was slightly exasperated, slightly teasing, and most full of joy and happiness. "I come up here so that no one can hear me."

"And I'm telling you there is no need," Professor Ozpin said. "You could sing at the greatest concert halls in Vale, and you would hold the crowds enraptured."

Amber skipped across the grass towards him. "Does that mean you'll talk to mom?" she asked. "Does that mean you'll take me with you when you go?"

"Amber—"

"I want to see what's out there, Uncle Oz," Amber said. She clasped her hands behind her as she leaned a little sideways. "I want to see the world. I want to see your world, oh, brave new world." She twirled in place, spreading her arms out around her like a dancer. "I want to see everything and everyone. I want to see where you go whenever you're not here. There must be so much more out there than this."

"No," Amber — the other Amber, the present Amber, the soul of the wounded and unconscious Fall Maiden — cried, as she shook her head desperately. "No, you don't. You really don't. It's dangerous out there, it isn't worth it, just stay here."

Professor Ozpin smiled fondly. "Maybe later, when you're older."

The Amber of memory pouted. "I'm fourteen years old; I'm not a child anymore." She smiled. "How long can you stay?"

"Not long, I'm afraid," Professor Ozpin said. "Duty calls."

"When are you going to tell me what it is that you do when you're not here?"

"When—"

"When I'm older," Amber said with mock exasperation. She kissed Professor Ozpin on the cheek. "I miss you when you're gone."

"And I miss you—"

"No!" the Amber of the present yelled. "No! Don't listen to him! Don't trust him! He's the reason, it's all his fault, he made me this way!"

"What are you talking about?" Sunset demanded. "Professor Ozpin didn't attack you—"

"He put this power inside me!" Amber cried. "That's the reason they were hunting me, he's the reason—" She stopped, eyes wide and filling with tears. She looked around, head darting this way and that like a rabbit. "No. No, no. They've found me. It's coming."

"What are you talking about?"

"Stay away from me," Amber cried as she fled into the forest and out of sight.

Sunset didn't pursue. As important as it was to follow her, she had a feeling that a touch of whatever dark power Cinder had infected her with was about to make itself known.

Amber and Ozpin continued their conversation in memory. Sunset didn't pay as much attention as she perhaps should have, but she was listening for the approach of darkness, and in any case, Professor Ozpin was being so fond and tender with Amber, so unusually so in her experience, that it seemed almost indecent to spy upon the particulars of their interactions as they walked away, arm in arm, headed towards wherever, somewhere else.

Sunset looked around the ruin. So, Amber had come here to practice her singing where nobody could hear. She could understand that; she'd had a secret place in the palace garden, an overgrown and abandoned place where nobody ever went, where she would sneak off to practice spells where nobody could see, so that nobody could see her screw up. And it didn't matter how good you were or how unlikely you were to screw up: that fear of doing so, and of failing to live up to the expectations of the person who you wanted to impress more than anyone in the world, never left you.

Amber and Ozpin departed, blissfully unaware of the approach of the enormous beowolf that lumbered through the woods, snorting and snarling. It raised its head and roared up at the thundering sky, and then it began to swipe its claws left and right, and as it slashed seemingly the empty air, the empty air was scored and wounded, revealing darkness beneath and howling winds that began to gust at Sunset as they flooded through from out of the void, released by the damage that the metaphorical beowolf was inflicting.

"Oh no you don't," Sunset muttered, and she clicked her fingers.

Instantly, the beowolf was engulfed in fire, its whole black body burning, and the mental grimm howled in pain as the flames rippled up its body, consuming everything.

Sunset grinned. It was good to be able to do whatever she could imagine doing. She clapped her hands together, and the earth itself rose up to swallow the burning beowolf whole, crushing it to nothingness in a vice of inescapable pressure.

"One down," Sunset thought. "Some more left to go."

Now, she just had to deal with the wounds inflicted on Amber's aura and soul.

Sunset raised both her hands, as the winds blowing in from the empty void beyond buffeted her jacket and blue her hair this way and that. She raised her hands and imagined severed pieces of metal being welded together; she imagined Jaune at the forge remaking his sword, melting the fragments together as the heat of the furnace turned the metal molten. Sunset thought of that as she raised her hands, and a wave like molten metal slid down the very wall of reality itself, closing the wounds the beowolf had inflicted as the walls of Amber's memory were cleansed and closed and made whole once again.

"Amber?" Sunset called. "Amber, where are you?"

If Amber was still somewhere nearby, then she would hear Sunset, but if not, then Sunset thought it likely that she would be—

The sky darkened. The whole world darkened. But then it was filled with light again. Light after a fashion, at least. The world was grey, and it wasn't just because of the storm clouds booming out Amber's anger and her fear. The world was grey because it had been a grey day. But it was windy because Amber's aura was falling apart.

Whatever this memory was, it had been destroyed. Sunset could just about make out Beacon Tower, the green lights burning in Ozpin's office, and so the area around here must be Beacon, but it was hard to tell. There were rents and tears everywhere; the people walking through the courtyard were mere silhouettes devoid of features that had been robbed from Amber's memories by the decay and the destruction. Tattered shreds of remembrance fluttered free, barely tethered to the tower at the centre of it all, the only thing that was holding it all together, and the wind howled even louder than the thunder as it pulled upon the threads to tear them all to pieces.

Sunset reached out and pulled back.

It was harder going this time; the force trying to destroy this memory was much greater than it had been, and what Sunset had to work with was so much less. She was lucky that she knew some of the details herself. She could give Amber some of her own memories of Beacon courtyard, of the school, of what lay around the tower, using her memories of what ought to go where and what this building looked like and where the statue was in relation to the dining hall, and she could wrench, by force of will, the memory together and reconstruct it not exactly in her own image but out of her perception. But only the superficials. She could expel the darkness, she could banish the void, she could weld the threads of Amber's aura together until they became whole, she could even recreate Beacon from her own experiences of it, but as to what this memory had once been, what it meant to Amber, who had been there, for all of that, Sunset was powerless. The figures remained silhouettes at best; some of them were mere clumps of mist that happened to move like men. And all Sunset could feel was fear; if there were any other emotions associated with this memory, specific emotions, they were gone now.

"How did you do that?" Amber demanded, appearing in front of the statue of the huntsman and huntress. "I've never … all I can do is watch it all fall apart."

"I may not be a Maiden, but I'm not without power," Sunset explained. "I made it this far. I really can help you; I dealt with the—"

"Don't say it; you'll just draw more of them," Amber cried. "I can't … they try to find me. We have to be quiet."

Sunset didn't point out that Amber had been doing most of the screaming so far.

Amber looked around. "I … I don't remember what this was. I just remember that I didn't like it."

"No?"

"No," Amber repeated. "Oh, brave new world. So often I begged Uncle … I begged him to bring me here, and when I came … I hated it. The noise, the people. Oh, brave new world that has such people in it. Ozpin sent you? To bring me back?"

Sunset nodded. "That's about it, yeah."

Amber retreated a step. "He'll always send people to bring me back. He'll never let me alone, will he?"

Sunset shook her head. "Amber, I … I'm going to be honest with you. It's not pretty, but it's the truth. You're dying. I can help you, but you have to trust me."

"Why?" Amber demanded.

"'Why'?" Sunset repeated. "Didn't you hear me?"

"At least the pain will stop," Amber whispered.

Sunset hesitated. "We … we can help you with that too, once you wake up."

"Why should I believe you?" Amber said. "Why should I believe anything you say? You work for Ozpin; you just want to take me back so that I can be his weapon. Well, I won't! I won't!" she yelled as she turned away, fleeing from Beacon courtyard and its shadowy and barely half-remembered denizens as she ran away into a different part of her soul.

Sunset gave chase. There was no beowolf to delay her this time, and she had already repaired the damage that Cinder had inflicted upon this part of Amber's aura. So she pursued Amber, who ran and ran through memories and experiences, some of which flitted past in an instant as Amber and Sunset dashed through them, but other times, Sunset had to linger just a little, letting Amber open up a slight lead on her as she took in what Amber was running through, what her life had been.

She had been raised in a cabin in the woods, alone except for a woman named … named Merida, that was the name that she heard Ozpin calling her when he thought Amber had gone to bed one night. Merida. The name from Summer Rose's diary, the girl that Team STRQ had brought to Beacon, with Auburn. Auburn, the Fall Maiden, had passed her powers on to Merida, and then Merida had raised Amber as her own daughter? Had Ozpin arranged that? Obviously, since he visited them often enough. He never stayed very long, it was rare for him to stay more than one or two nights, and then he would be gone again, usually for months before his next visit, but whenever he arrived, little Amber would run down the path towards the cottage gate shrieking in delight.

"Uncle Ozpin! Uncle Ozpin! Did you bring me back a present?"

He had always brought her a present: a toy, a book, some new clothes; something from his travels, something from the wider world that he would tell her of but never let her see, no matter how much she begged him to.

She was raised that way, with no other contact with anybody but Merida, who was her mother in every way that really mattered except — probably — for the having physically given birth to Amber, and Professor Ozpin. Uncle Ozpin.

As much as it had felt wrong of her, indecent, intrusive on her part to watch Ozpin and Amber's interactions in the ruin, there were times — as Amber ran from memory to memory, dashing through her memories of Professor Ozpin as though she wanted to stay away from them almost as much as she wanted to stay away from Sunset — when Sunset had to stop and watch because they were just so familiar to her: the way that Amber and Professor Ozpin would sit in front of the fire, drinking hot cocoa while Ozpin read to her; the way that he brought her a staff with a wind-dust crystal and taught her how to use it, so patient and so understanding with all of Amber's difficulties, rewarding even the mildest accomplishment with effusive praise; the way that there was a lesson to be found in what seemed at first to be even the most casual of their interactions; the way that he cared about her, so solicitous, so patient; it was all so familiar to her.

She had been his faithful student, his little sunbeam.

Yes, they hadn't lived together the way that Sunset and Celestia had, but she recognised all of this, right down to the way in which they had sat in front of the fire and drank hot chocolate in Celestia's study, and Celestia would put one wing around Sunset, draping her soft feathers around her like a blanket. Amber sang so prettily; Celestia had insisted that Sunset learn music as well as magic because she wanted her to be a sophisticated gentlemare; Celestia had told Sunset that she was destined for great things, and Ozpin had told Amber the same.

They had both found in their tutors the parental affection that was otherwise missing from their lives.

Celestia told me that she could never sacrifice Twilight, not even to save the world, but Amber is your Twilight, Professor, or your Sunset, at least.

What kind of life have you had that you could bring yourself to sacrifice her to give her powers to Pyrrha?

After all, his interactions with Pyrrha weren't anything like as deep or as devoted as what she was witnessing with Amber.

Sunset could recognise the anger now, the constant anger that was making it thunder in the skies over Amber's memories. The fear was general, she was terrified, but the anger, the anger had direction: it was pointed towards Ozpin, and to anyone associated with him. Sunset could feel that because so much of it — the distrust, the feeling of being used, the feeling of being manipulated and thrown into the path of danger — felt so very, terribly familiar to her.

It was like Cinder all over again: the hardest emotions to keep out were the ones that chimed with the emotions that were there already, and though she had started to get over those feelings towards Professor Ozpin, the way that he had been willing to put Pyrrha's soul in such extreme jeopardy had brought some latent hostility roaring to the fore, and now, Amber's own feelings on the matter were calling out to Sunset's emotions, pushing past the barriers like flood waters breaking through the levee, seeping in even as Sunset fought to keep them out.

Sunset pursued Amber, following where she led, through memories that showed her failing to kill a deer in the woods because she couldn't bring herself to hurt it, at which point, Merida declared that she would eat no meat until she did, because there'd be no hypocrites in their house — from what Sunset could gather, Amber hadn't had a bite of meat since.

She followed through memories that were beginning to tear and memories that were falling apart, and whenever she came to such a place, Sunset had to stop and repair the damage as best she could, killing whatever mental grimm infested the place and tying up the fluttering threads of Amber's aura until it was intact once again. She couldn't do anything about the existing damage to Amber's memories: she couldn't repopulate the people she had forgotten, or even the landscapes that Sunset herself didn't remember. There was mist there instead, misty holes in Amber's soul that served to plug the gaps and achieve a measure of coherence, but as for what it would actually mean for her … Sunset couldn't exactly say. All she could say was that the memories that Amber fled through showed the sweetest maid who ever lived, an ingénue who had never known trouble or hardship or strife, who was completely ignorant of all the evils of the world, wholly innocent and absolutely untouched by them.

And yet now, she was consumed by anger and by fear, tormented by pain, in all her memories, the happiness and love that must have once been there was but a kind of distant echo now. Where love had once run deepest, a cancer spread.

Sunset pursued Amber into a memory of Cinder.

She couldn't look away. Though her limbs were shaking, she couldn't turn away. She had never seen Cinder like this before, so cruel, so vicious, so utterly without mercy. She knew, objectively, that Cinder was capable of these things — how could she have been ignorant of it? — but the face that she showed to Sunset, playful, teasing, ultimately honest and even trustworthy in a sense, all of that was gone from the Cinder who stood over a helpless Amber while Mercury and Lightning Dust held her pinioned between them. All of that was gone from the Cinder who produced some kind of bug grimm, which transformed into black slime while Amber begged for mercy; all of that was gone from the Cinder who showed no mercy as she flung the slime into Amber's face and began to rip her aura apart so that she could take the power of the Fall Maiden for herself.

It was the first time that Sunset had genuinely seen this side of Cinder before, the merciless enemy, the commander of a crew of bloodthirsty savages, the killer who would smirk as she took your life and soul alike.

This was the Cinder that others saw; Sunset understood, that now. This was the Cinder whom nobody could understand Sunset's bizarre attachment to. This was the Cinder who made the world terrified.

And she had Amber terrified as well. The fear from this memory was overwhelming; it threatened to have Sunset on the ground puking in blind terror. And the pain, this was the focus of the pain that was tearing Amber apart. This was where it had all started, and this memory — the memory that Amber could perhaps have most done to lose — was completely untouched.

Sunset couldn't take it anymore. Amber had already gone, and Sunset made haste to do likewise. She didn't want to stay here, she didn't want to see this, she didn't want to … she couldn't … it was cowardly, but … if she stayed here much longer, then all that she was feeling would undo her utterly.

So she followed Amber further still.

To a memory where Amber stopped, seemingly unable to simply run on, unable to pass this memory by, unable to do ought but stop and stare.

They were back at the ruins, at the old remains of what Amber's memories suggested had been — or at least she thought that it had been — a chapel, a place of worship long since crumbled, the place as deserted as the goddess who had been worshipped here.

Amber, the old Amber, the Amber of memory, stood once more in the midst of the ruins. She was older now; Sunset could make out no difference between the Amber of memory and the present Amber who stood, silent, watching said memory; they were alike in all respects save for the scars upon the present Amber's face.

They were not dressed alike; in her memory, Amber was dressed more simply, in a grey blouse with a black bustier worn over the top and a dark grey skirt. Her feet were bare, although she hardly seemed to notice as she danced over the grass that grew where once the floor of this chapel had been.

She was dancing, arms out on either side of her, eyes closed, a smile on her face as bright as the sun.

And she was singing. As squirrels and rabbits gambolled around her, as little birds flew about and settled momentarily upon her fingers before flying up to perch upon the crumbling stone and listen to her sweet song.

"I know you; I walked with you once upon a dream,

I know you, the gleam in your eyes—"

"Is so familiar a gleam," the other Amber, the present Amber, whispered.

Sunset glanced at her.

"This is … this is when we met," Amber said quietly.

"Met who?" asked Sunset, with equal softness, as though the memory of Amber could hear her and would be disturbed by too much racket.

"Here he comes," Amber replied, gesturing to the door, the archway that had once served as an entrance to the chapel.

A young man stood beneath the arch. Not just any young man, but to Sunset's amazement, she found it was a young man that she recognised: Dove Bronzewing of Team BLBL, dressed in a grey tunic over a black shirt and brown trousers, with a forest-green cloak hanging off one shoulder.

What's he doing here?

What he was doing was standing as still as though he had been turned to stone, as though he were another statue of an ancient god or some such figure of worship, staring with his blue eyes wide, his mouth open, as he gazed with amazement upon Amber, entranced by the sound of her sweet voice.

"I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem,

But if I know you, I know what you'll do,

You'll lo—"

Amber stopped, her singing stopping with her, a gasp escaping her lips as she opened her eyes to see Dove standing there, watching her. She took a step backwards, and then another, raising one hand.

"Wait!" Dove cried, holding up his own hands pacifically as he ventured a step forward. "Please wait," he said, more quietly now, his voice gentle. "Please, I'm sorry; I didn't mean to startle you. I mean you no harm. I was just … I heard a voice singing, singing so beautifully, I had to see who it was."

Amber was silent for a moment, staring at him. "My mother says I should be wary of strange men."

"Your mother may be right," Dove admitted, "but I would not be a stranger to you; my name is Dove, Dove Bronzewing. I live with my grandfather in town."

"In the town?" Amber repeated, "Just past the woods?"

"Yes," Dove said, "that's right, in Fairmarket."

"I've never been there," Amber replied. "I've never been allowed to go there."

"That explains why I've never seen you before," Dove murmured. He smiled. "I would have remembered if I'd seen you before. Do you…? It doesn't matter."

"See how he doesn't ask where I live," Amber — the real Amber — said to Sunset in her memory. "He fears to frighten me, or make me suspicious."

"Can you tell me what your home is like?" Amber asked. "Can you tell me what the world is like? Can you tell me stories?"

"What would you like to know?"

"Anything," Amber replied. "Everything. Whatever you can tell me."

"I would be honoured," Dove began, and then paused. He smiled. "If I do, will you sing for me some more? I would love to hear more of that sweet song."

Amber laughed lightly. "Come back tomorrow, and meet me here, and maybe I will."

The real Amber let out a sob, covering her scarred face with one hand, her body trembling as she turned away from Sunset and the memory.

"I'm sorry, Dove," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"'Sorry'?" Sunset asked. "Sorry for what?"

Amber shook her head, walking on and then running on, continuing to run, running away from Sunset once again. Sunset resumed the chase, but as she ran, she found that she was running to a stand still, in a sense, because all the memories were here, in this chapel; it was memories of Dove that Amber returned to again and again, of their meetings in these ruins, meetings which she kept secret from her mother and Ozpin. Memories of the stories he told her and of the songs that she sang for him.

She never did sing that song for him, the one that he had interrupted and caused her to stop, but by some art, some magic, some power of love, he seemed to come to know the words regardless, enough to sing them in his own half-decent baritone.

"But if I know you, I know what you'll do,

You'll love me at once, the way you did once,

Upon a dream."

Memories of them dancing in the ruins, and in the woods, while birds and woodland creatures watched them in delight. Memories of them dancing in Dove's rustic hometown, which she begged him to bring her to for a festival. Amber laughed like a child in delight to see these rather unimpressive houses, these little homes of wood and daub; to Sunset's eyes, they seemed mere rustic dwellings lacking in beauty or sophistication, but to Amber, they seemed as marvellous as the palaces of princesses.

"Oh, brave new world," she whispered, turning around and around gawping at everything, eyes straining to take it in. "Oh, brave new world that has such people in it."

Perhaps if I told her that I know where Dove is, she'd stop and listen to me.

No. No, I should not do that. Dove doesn't know about any of this; he's given no sign that he does, and there's nothing in Amber's memories either. Amber wasn't the Fall Maiden when … when they fell in love.

That was what it was; Amber's feelings were unmistakable upon that point. They were in love, or at least, she had loved him. In her eyes, in her mind, in her soul, Dove Bronzewing was the one living person who had not betrayed her, had not abandoned her.

But she had abandoned him.

That was a memory that Amber fled through, not stopping this time, seeming to want to avoid it almost as much as her memory of Cinder's attack, a memory of Amber, dressed just as she was now, mounted on a horse, while Dove stood beside her, looking up.

"You're leaving then?" he asked, his voice trembling slightly. "You … you're going to see Vale, just like you always wanted." He tried to smile, but his heart was not in it, and he struggled to turn his lips up.

"Yes," Amber whispered. "Yes, just like I always wanted."

And yet, nothing like you wanted it, Sunset thought.

"Then…" Dove hesitated. "Then why do you seem so sad?"

Amber bowed her head. "Because … because I don't want to go."

Dove reached up and pressed his hand upon hers where they sat on the pommel of her saddle. "I'll be seventeen soon," he said. "Next year, I can come to Beacon and study to become a huntsman, just like I told you about. I'll be there, with you. Just … wait for me, Amber. Promise me you'll wait."

Now Amber smiled, and unlike Dove, she was able to smile, to smile with relief, with joy, with anticipation.

"I will," she declared. "I will!" she cried. "I'll wait for you, Dove, for months or years or however long it takes, I'll wait for you because … because I love you. You're my forever fall."

Dove reached for her, Amber's horse obediently sidestepped away from him, not to get Amber away, but rather, to give Amber room to lean down, to lean so far that she was almost falling off the horse, to lean down far enough she could kiss him as he cupped her face with both his hands.

"We will meet again," Dove promised. "In dreams, and then reality."

"We will," Amber vowed. "I know we will."

And then, smiling, she rode away.

'They looked for her coming from the White Tower, but she did not return.'

And at least the Empress knew what she was getting into when she rode away.

Professor, how could you make someone like this the Fall Maiden? This is a heavy burden to place on Pyrrha's shoulders, but on Amber? How could you think she was suited for this?

She should have been sent away before her mother died.

But Professor Ozpin, it seemed, had wished for Amber to have the powers. He had not sent Merida to fetch a successor as he had Auburn, he had not sent a successor to live with Merida, he had not removed Amber from Merida's house, and from her thoughts, he had let them carry on living together until the day Merida died and passed the powers on to her beloved daughter. Why? Why had he done this, why had he allowed it? Why did he think Amber would be a good Fall Maiden?

Secrecy, yes, but if secrecy is all, then why select for virtue? Why choose, if not because you believe the choice matters?

Then why choose Amber?

In some ways, it hardly mattered. Whether by her mother or by Ozpin, Amber had been chosen, and it was Sunset's task to address the consequences of that.

And so followed where Amber had fled.

Following on until the end of the line.

Amber's cottage, the home that she had shared with Merida, the place where she had lived in the woods, the place she had felt safe, that was where she'd run to in the end.

Sunset was outside the cottage and could not see Amber, but she knew she was within.

There was nowhere left for her to run.

In front of Sunset, directly ahead, just between Sunset and the cottage, was a raging vortex. The landscape had been ripped apart, and it was streaming like paper in the wind as the vortex pulled against it. Sunset guessed that they had reached the limit of Amber's remaining aura, the point at which it was all fraying and unravelling. She could see it doing just that, tearing the way that fabric does once first you let it start to tear, little bits of sky and tree and memory pulling free and falling into nothingness. Lost like dreams forgotten upon waking.

She would have to do something about this. But first, as the wind gusted about her, she would have to do something about the grimm.

At first, there were many of them, a dozen at least, all beowolves, the remnants of whatever Cinder had done to Amber, of the darkness that she had flung into her face, the remains of the darkness corrupting her aura, tearing at it, pulling it, devouring it. They had all come to this place, drawn by Amber or by Sunset, she couldn't be sure. But as Sunset watched, those dozen beowolves all dissolved into black ooze which moved, guided by invisible eyes and invisible intelligence, flowing together into a vast black puddle out of which arose, before Sunset's eyes, into an enormous many-headed dragon grimm, a Colchian to give it the name of its kind, with two red leathery wings flapping on the back of its long serpentine body.

Sunset could feel Amber's fear increasing.

"Hey, Amber!" Sunset called out, certain that Amber could hear her even if she couldn't see. "Watch this; you've got nothing to worry about."

The Colchian hissed as it slithered towards her on its long black trunk, red tongues flickering from out of its multitude of white, bony heads, each one triangular in shape and ridged with horns longer and sharper than their fangs.

"You see," Sunset said as she sauntered towards the grimm and the wind blew all around her. "I am not the best huntress around." She flung out her hand, and Crescent Rose appeared in it, because if this was a dream, then why the hay shouldn't she be as cool as all her friends? "But I know all the most awesome huntsmen there are, no question."

She spun Crescent Rose dramatically in the air, planting the scythe-blade in the ground like Ruby always did before she let them have it, firing one, two, three, four shots with the sniper rifle that made the Colchian hiss in pain and anger before she charged. Sunset moved faster than she had ever moved in the real world or ever could, so fast that she was leaving a trail of rose petals behind her as she ran. One of the Colchian's heads lunged for her, but Sunset came to a sudden halt and slashed at it with her scythe, wounding it. She fired into the ground, propelling herself high up into the air, higher than the Colchian's heads could reach, and there, she hung suspended for a moment as she turned lazily in the air, before she fell as swiftly as a thunderbolt to slice off one of the Colchian's heads.

One down.

Crescent Rose disappeared from Sunset's hands, replaced by Miló in her right hand and Akoúo̱ on her left arm, and like Pyrrha, she leapt with the grace of a dancer away from the snapping jaws of the Colchian, slashing at it with Miló in sword form, then spear form, then switching it to rifle mode to fire five shots at the grimm in quick succession as she leapt away, then back to spear mode as she whirled in place, slashing, then thrusting the spear into the throat of one of the creature's other heads.

And another one down.

Crocea Mors, new and improved, appeared in Sunset's hands as she slashed with the sword to cleave off another head cleanly from its trunk.

And another.

Gambol Shroud formed instantly, as swift as Sunset could imagine it, and she buried the cleaver in the eye of the fourth head, grappling onto the grimm's neck as it writhed in pain, swinging around and around. Another of the remaining heads tried to swallow her, but bit down only on a fire clone that exploded in its jaws. Sunset swung around once more, and her momentum was such that with the sword she could slice off another head.

Ciel's Distant Thunder took care of another even before Sunset had hit the ground again.

There was only a single head left, roaring and snarling and writhing as Sunset landed.

Penny's swords appeared all around Sunset like a halo; they formed a ring around her, spinning and whirring, and from that ring erupted an enormous laser burst so bright that it threatened to blind Sunset and consume all else within her vision.

And when it was finished, there was not a single trace of the grimm remaining, nor of the darkness with which Cinder had infected Amber.

Sunset turned her attention to the void and the vortex. She grabbed hold of the flapping tendrils of aura with her thought, this dreamscape making her magic as strong as it needed to be, and once again, a wave like molten metal in the blacksmith's forge washed down what passed for the reality of this place, stitching it together, fusing it together, remaking it as best Sunset could. It wasn't perfect by any means; she had seen these woods too briefly to well recall what they looked like, but she had, she thought, accomplished what she had set out to do. She had closed off the tears in Amber's aura and stopped the constant unravelling that had threatened her life.

Now all she had to do was convince Amber to wake up.

Golden light was already deluging the memories as Sunset walked into the cottage, motes of golden light falling like rain after a long dry spell, light descending as if from heaven to fall upon the ground: Jaune's semblance, working to boost Amber's aura now that the degradation had ceased. Why it was only visible to her now, when Jaune had been at work boosting Amber's aura since Sunset had entered her mind, she could not say; perhaps it was only now the degradation had ceased that Jaune's aura could have any effect.

Whatever the exact cause, Sunset felt it was rather appropriate.

"Amber?" Sunset called. "Amber, it's okay now; they're gone. You don't ever have to worry about them again."

A sob was her only answer. A sob that sounded like it was coming from the second floor of the isolated cottage, so Sunset climbed up the wooden stairs, passed framed pencil drawings that looked as though they had been drawn by Amber herself, and made her way into a child's bedroom, rustic and simple without much in the way of décor but filled with toys and books. The window was open, and a little girl — oblivious to the thunder outside that was no part of her memories — sat on the floor humming to herself, sketching a bluebird that was perched obediently upon the windowsill.

Amber was sitting in the corner, her legs tucked beneath her chin and her arms wrapped around her knees.

Sunset knelt down in front of her. "It's over," she said. "You don't have to be afraid anymore."

"Is this … is this a dream?" Amber asked.

"In a manner of speaking, yes," Sunset replied. "But, in this dream, you can choose to wake up."

Amber closed her eyes. "Once upon a dream," she murmured. "I was wishing for a never, a never-ending…"

Sunset was once again seized by the desire to tell her about Dove, how he was at Beacon, how he had come just as he had promised he would, how she could see him again if she only woke up. But … she could not. Dove was not in the know, after all. He was not trusted with this momentous knowledge. In all likelihood, whatever had befallen Amber, he would have been kept well away from her by Ozpin. He would not allow her to see him now.

To be a Maiden was to be alone.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice hoarse. "I can't change what was done to you, but I can give you a better future."

Amber was silent for a moment. "I was so safe here. I felt so safe here. When she was here, I knew that nothing could hurt me, and when Ozpin … I don't remember how she died. I don't remember how I got these powers, I only know that I did. Why don't I remember that? Why don't I remember how my own mother died?"

"You've been wounded," Sunset said. "My friend Twilight, she said that … there might some lingering effects."

"I don't want to remember everything," Amber whispered. "I don't want to remember … I don't want to remember her, I don't want to remember what she did to me, I don't want to feel like this, I don't want to hurt like this!"

"We can do something about that."

"No, you can't, you're lying!"

"What makes you think I'm lying?"

"Because you're with Ozpin and Ozpin lied to me!" Amber shrieked. "He told me … he made me think that … I loved him."

Sunset swallowed. "I know," she said.

"He made me think that he loved me."

"I know."

"But he didn't!" Amber cried. "He just wanted me to be his Fall Maiden once Mother was gone. I don't … I don't remember everything, but I remember … that was why he taught me to fight, he wanted me to fight, he made me fight, he made me into a weapon, and when I didn't want to, he just kept on bringing me back, and I had to get away and—"

"Calm down," Sunset insisted. "That can't be good for you."

Amber closed her eyes for a moment. "You can't trust him. However much you give, he always wants more of you. Until in the end, there's nothing left."

"I'm going to protect my friends from that," Sunset said. "I can protect you from that too, if you want."

"You can't protect me from him, no one can."

"Yes, I can, and from Cinder too," Sunset said. "You can see for yourself, if you'll just come with me. All you have to do is open your eyes." She held out her hand. "What do you say?"

Amber shivered. "I'm scared."

"We're all scared," Sunset said. "But we can't let that stop us from living. In your memories, you loved to sing, to draw; don't you want to do that again? Don't you want to live?"

"I'm the Fall Maiden," Amber whispered. "There's no living with that."

"We'll find a way," Sunset said. "It has to be better than being stuck in here, right?"

Amber regarded her warily. "Why should I trust you?"

"Because I'm offering to set you free," Sunset said. "And who else has made you an offer like that?"

Amber hesitated. "I … I don't remember what the outside world is like. I barely knew it at all, and what I saw … those memories are gone."

"Then you'll just have to find out all over again," Sunset said. She smiled. "It'll even be fun. Trust me, there's never a dull moment with my friends around."

"Brave new world," Amber murmured. "You won't … you won't let him hurt me?"

"No," Sunset said, thinking that would be an easy promise to keep, since there was no way that Ozpin would want to hurt her anyway. "Come on, take my hand."

Amber was motionless for a moment, and then another; then, tentatively, she reached out and gently took Sunset's hand.

Sunset was returned to the vault, staggering backwards as she let go of Amber, she felt someone's hands upon her shoulders steadying her as her eyes became reaccustomed to the underground gloom, and her soul became reaccustomed to its own company.

In the ice bath, Amber opened her eyes.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Apologies All Round​

Amber gasped, her arms flailing, causing splashes of water and slowly melting ice cubes to slosh over the rim of the ice bath and down onto the vault floor, slowly spreading out to lap the boots or shoes of Jaune, Pyrrha, and Twilight.

"Here, take my hand," Jaune said, holding out a hand which she grasped with an instinctual swiftness.

"Got you," Jaune said as he pulled her to her feet. "Careful now, take it easy."

"Thank you," Amber murmured, holding tight onto Jaune as she emerged, dripping, from the bath; she clambered out of it, true to Jaune's call for caution, surmounting the bath like it was a fence, half falling out of it — perhaps she would have fallen if Jaune hadn't put out his other hand to steady her about the waist.

Either way, she got out and stood on the cold grey floor of the vault, dripping water from her body and her hair, the water pooling around her as it fell like rain, tap-tap-tapping as it hit the surface.

"Thank you," she repeated, looking up at Jaune.

She let out a little gasp at the sight of him, but it was followed swiftly after by a little sigh.

"Is everything okay?" Jaune asked.

"I … I'm sorry," Amber murmured. "It's just that, your hair and your eyes, you … I thought for a moment that … but no, it doesn't matter; I'm sorry."

Jaune smiled. "Hey, don't worry about it," he said. "I've just got one of those faces, I guess."

Amber might have responded to that, or she might not; either way, anything that she might have wished to say was cut off.

It was cut off by Professor Ozpin speaking a single word. "Amber."

A quick glance around the room by Sunset confirmed the amazement on the faces of practically everyone present. Even Twilight, who had worked most closely with Sunset on this, was gawking in astonishment as though she was surprised that it had actually worked.

Qrow, Professor Goodwitch, General Ironwood, they all looked as if they had witnessed a miracle, standing amazed with wide eyes and open mouths. Everyone looked amazed, everyone looked much the same with two exceptions. One was Ciel, who was murmuring to herself, speaking beneath her breath, probably a prayer.

The other was Professor Ozpin.

Professor Ozpin did not look amazed. Professor Ozpin's expression reminded Sunset of a flower that had been for so long deprived of sunlight, trapped under overcast skies and gloomy clouds, that was only now feeling the sun upon its petals once more and daring to open up and feel the warmth again. He looked like a man finding water in the desert, like a man finding shelter in the wilderness … and Sunset was the only one who could see how terribly wrong it was all about to go in a matter of moments, and there was absolutely nothing that she could do about it.

What have I done?

Amber's eyes widened as she looked at him, standing in the centre of the vault looking so relieved to see her again. "Ozpin?"

Ozpin nodded. He even smiled, a smile more sincere and earnest and genuine than anything that Sunset had seen on his face before. He took a step towards her, holding out one hand. "It's good to see—"

"Stay away from me!" Amber snapped, cowering behind Jaune, clinging to him as she used his body as a shield between herself and Ozpin. "You did this to me!"

The look on Ozpin's face … there was such deep sorrow on his face, it was as though he had aged ten years in a single moment, lines springing to his cheeks and on his brow. He let his hand fall and bowed his head.

"Yes," he said. "I did."

Amber looked around anxiously, and she seemed to be progressing swiftly from anxious to frantic as her gaze darted around the many people in the vault. "Who … who are you? Where am I?"

"Safe," Sunset said. "You are safe, Amber."

Pyrrha had caught Sunset when she staggered back; now, Sunset stood upright and stepped away from Pyrrha once again, even as she drew Amber's attention with her voice.

Amber turned her head rapidly to look at her. "It's you! Sunset Shimmer."

"That's right," Sunset said, walking towards her with her hands still raised above her head. "And these are my friends. They helped me bring you back. That's Twilight," she said, nodding to towards Twilight Sparkle. "She helped me more than anyone, but everyone here is here for you. They aren't your enemies; there's nothing to be scared of here."

"He's here," Amber said, and there was no doubt who 'he' was.

"I told you that he'd sent me," Sunset murmured. "But it's okay."

"You said—"

"I know what I said," Sunset said quickly, cutting her off before she could repeat it. She had said what she needed to say to get Amber to come with her, but that didn't mean that she wanted Professor Ozpin to hear it. She could see why Amber was upset with him — she had more grounds than Sunset had ever had to be wroth with Princess Celestia — but all the same, a little discretion on Amber's part would be appreciated. "And you'll be safe, I promise. You don't need to be afraid."

Amber regarded her warily, yet nevertheless, she stepped away from Jaune half a pace, releasing him from her embrace. She shivered. "I feel cold."

"Here," Sunset said, taking off her jacket as she walked towards her, draping it over Amber's shoulders.

Amber grabbed it in both arms, pulling it tight around her like a blanket.

Sunset touched the jacket on the shoulder, and with her aura, she activated just a little of the fire dust sewn into the fabric, just enough so that it didn't burn but smouldered like embers, producing heat and light but not actual flame. "How does that feel? Better?"

"A little, thank you," Amber whispered. She looked around. "Where … where am I? What is this place?"

Sunset waited for Professor Ozpin to answer, but he did not. With the way he was standing like a statue of a despairing man, it seemed possible that he didn't intend to say anything else at the moment.

Sunset spoke for him, saying, "This is a vault underneath Beacon Tower."

"Under … Beacon," Amber murmured. "So you brought me back here after all."

"It was the only place you could be taken care of after the attack," Qrow said. He paused for half a moment. "So, how are you feeling, kid?"

Amber stared at him. She cocked her head to one side, eyes narrowing. "Who … who are you?"

Qrow frowned. "You don't remember me? We've met before, you know."

Amber shook her head. "I don't … I don't remember that."

"Memory loss," Twilight murmured. "Unfortunately, that's not unexpected. I'd like to run some tests to see—"

"'Tests'?" Amber repeated. "What … what kind of tests? Would there be needles?" She shook her head. "No, no thank you, I feel fine, I'm just cold."

"It won't take very long," Twilight assured her, "and we can be very gentle. But it's important that we understand your condition as soon as possible."

"But 'as soon as possible' need not mean right now," Ozpin murmured.

His voice was soft, but in this vault, it seemed to echo.

"Ozpin…" General Ironwood began. Then he stopped and paused a moment. "It can wait, Twilight."

"Yes, sir," Twilight said. "'Soon' doesn't have to mean right now."

"So what does happen now?" Penny asked. It was an innocent question, asked in an innocent tone, but it was also a question that plunged the entire vault into silence because nobody knew the answer.

Amber's eyes were on Sunset as she said, "I … I'd like to stay with you, Sunset Shimmer. You saved me. I … trust you."

"I'm sure that can be arranged, at least on a temporary basis," Professor Goodwitch said. "After all, it wouldn't be the first time Team Sapphire has had a fifth roommate."

"Team … Sapphire?" Amber asked.

"That's right," Sunset said. "Me, Jaune you've already met, Pyrrha." She gestured towards Pyrrha, standing behind her.

"Hello," Pyrrha said. She waved. "It's a pleasure to meet you." But then she also bowed her head. "But also a great honour."

Amber doesn't really feel the same way, Sunset thought, but said, "And that's Ruby over there."

"Hey," Ruby said.

Amber only glanced at Pyrrha and Ruby, before her gaze returned to Sunset. "So … I would be staying with you?"

"With all four of us," Sunset said. "But yes, I'll be there."

Amber's smile was only small and soft, but it was still a big improvement over the near terrified expression that had dominated her face up until that point. "Good," she murmured. "That … that's good. I'd like that."

"Are we sure that's safe?" Rainbow asked.

"'Safe'?" Sunset repeated. "Why wouldn't it be safe?"

"Because the Beacon campus is about to be overrun by tourists for the Vytal Festival," Rainbow said. "It'll be hard to police that many people; what if someone were to sneak in and—?"

"Only certain areas are open to the public: the docking pads, where the fairgrounds are and the connective space; lots of the school is still off limits," Sunset replied. "And we—" She stopped short of saying that they would, of course, not let Amber wander around unprotected, because as much as that was true and as much as it was definitely sensible, it seemed like the sort of thing best broken to Amber more gently, and in a more convivial setting than this one. Instead, she said, "What other choice is there?"

"She'd be safe on the Valiant," Rainbow suggested. "And she could be monitored there for … anything."

"Subtle, Jimmy," Qrow growled.

"This isn't my idea," General Ironwood said, rolling his eyes, "and I have no objection to Amber staying with Team Sapphire."

"Sir—" Rainbow began.

"I understand your concerns, Dash, and security measures will have to be put in place," General Ironwood said, "but that doesn't require sequestering Amber aboard my ship, something that would just raise questions."

"I don't want to go onto any warship," Amber said. "I want to stay with Sunset."

"And you will," Professor Goodwitch said soothingly. "Until more permanent arrangements can be made."

She glanced around the young huntsmen in the vault. "If anyone asks, Amber is Professor Ozpin's niece, visiting him while her mother … her mother has recently passed away, and so, Amber is visiting her uncle while he helps her settle her mother's estate and find a new place to live. She is staying with Team Sapphire as a favour to the headmaster, since she has lost her home, and her impromptu arrival has prevented any better arrangements being made. Please stick to that story; it will prevent undue complication or attention upon Amber."

I'm pretty impressed you came up with that on the fly, to be honest. "Yes, Professor," Sunset said. She glanced at Amber, who aside from Sunset's gently glowing jacket was wearing only the surgical smallclothes that she'd worn in the pod. "Um, I think Amber needs something wear—"

"I'll make the arrangements," Professor Goodwitch said.

"Thank you, Professor," Sunset said. She turned to Amber. "In light of, well, the fact that you're not really wearing anything, it might be best if we took the shortcut to our room. You guys can follow on after, right?"

"That does seem like the best idea," Pyrrha said.

"What are you talking about?" Amber asked.

Sunset held out her hand — her left hand, the one that was still covered by a glove to prevent her semblance going off.

Amber took it, with only a brief moment's hesitation.

"This might just pinch a bit," Sunset said, and then she teleported.

There was a flash of green light, a squeezing sensation, and then Sunset and Amber were standing in the middle of the SAPR dorm room.

Amber sank to her knees as Sunset released her hand. She stared at the wooden floor beneath her. She stared at all four white-painted walls of the dorm. She stared at the sunlight coming in through the window. "Where … where are we?"

"Our dorm room," Sunset said. "Where we live. Where you live, for now."

"So … I'm home?"

Sunset hesitated, pausing in the act of bending down to take the things off her bed. "I guess … I guess you are, yes." She picked up the stuffed unicorn from off the bed. "This is my bed, but you can sleep here for now. I'll get the camp bed back from when Blake was staying here."

"What's that?" Amber asked, pointing at the unicorn.

"This?" Sunset said, looking down at the fairground prize. "It's a stuffed toy." She tossed it to Amber, who didn't manage to catch it before it hit her and bounced onto the floor, where it landed noiselessly upon the carpet.

Amber bent down and swiftly picked it up. She held it up for a moment, running her fingers over the unicorn's fur, before she pressed it against her face and nuzzled it with her cheek.

"So soft," she murmured, as she closed her eyes. "I think I used to have some things just like this. I … I don't remember what happened to them."

Sunset sat down on her bed — Amber's bed, at least for the time being — and said, "Do you … do you want to hold onto it for a little while?"

Amber's eyes opened. "Really?"

"Yeah," Sunset said. "Why not, if you like it?" It will probably get more love from you than it's gotten from me lately.

"Thank you, Sunset. It's so soft and pretty."

"Don't go nuts; it's just a stupid fairground prize."

"'Fairground'? Is that where you got it from?"

"Yeah," Sunset said. "Flash, my boyfriend at the time, won it for me."

"Boy friend," Amber repeated. "Sunset, what's a boy friend? Why can you only be friends with one boy?"

"It's not, um … you really don't know what a boyfriend is?"

Amber shook her head. "Growing up, there weren't a lot of people around; a lot of the time, there was only my mother for company. I've only really known two men in my life: Un— Ozpin—"

Sunset grinned. "You can call him Uncle Ozpin if you want to; nobody's going to get mad at you for it."

"I don't want to," Amber declared.

"Are you sure, because—?"

"I don't!" Amber snapped. "I don't care about him at all anymore!" Sunset's jacket fell off her shoulders to land in a crumpled heap on the floor as Amber cradled the stuffed unicorn, holding it close as though it could protect her. "I was a fool to think he loved me."

"It was your choice to make me love you, but it was my choice to believe you loved me in return."

But you did love me, didn't you? I was just too selfish and too blind to see it.

Sunset wanted to tell Amber not to judge Ozpin so harshly; whatever mistakes he had made, he probably did love her, the way that Celestia had loved Sunset all along in spite of all the things that Sunset had done … but now was probably not the time, Amber's mood being what it was, the very opposite of receptive.

"Okay," she murmured. "Well, anyway, you asked about what a boyfriend was? So, a boyfriend is … Dove. Dove was your boyfriend, or at least a lot of people would say so."

"Dove," Amber whispered. "Oh, Dove." She closed her eyes for a moment. "So … so your boyfriend, the one who gave you this, he was your true love?"

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "Um, okay, um, well … at the time, I kind of thought he might be, but … no. No, he wasn't, as demonstrated by the fact that he's not my boyfriend anymore, no, um…" She trailed off for a moment. "I suppose your boyfriend certainly can be your true love, I mean, look at Jaune and Pyrrha, but … all a boyfriend actually needs to be is, well, a boy and you hang out, kiss, talk to one another—"

"That sounds like love," Amber declared.

"Like I said, it can be," Sunset admitted. "But not always. Sometimes, it's just a bit of fun. Sometimes, it just doesn't work out."

"You mean it isn't true love's kiss?"

Sunset's eyes narrowed. "You spent more time with storybooks than people growing up, didn't you?"

"How did you know?"

"I'm very perceptive," Sunset said dryly. "Suffice to say that while some people are lucky enough to fall in love in their teenage years, some of us have to make do with making out on the hood of his car until he realises what complete dumpster fires we are."

"You mean—?"

"I'd rather not talk about it, if it's all the same to you," Sunset said.

"Oh, of course," Amber said quickly. "I didn't mean to upset you."

Sunset smiled at her. "You didn't; I just … I'm not proud of the way that I treated him."

"Did you leave him behind?" Amber asked. "Did you go away and leave him?"

Sunset blinked. "No, that's not it."

Amber frowned. "I left Dove behind. He asked me to wait for him at Beacon, but … but I couldn't. I … I think I … I don't remember, but … I think I was running away. From here, from Ozpin, from all of this. I just wanted to go home." She sat down on the bed next to Sunset, leaning upon Sunset, their shoulders touching. She still held the stuffed unicorn in her hands, resting him upon her lap. "If only I'd stayed here and waited, then none of this would have happened."

Sunset put one arm around Amber's shoulders, pulling her in a little closer.

"We all have regrets," she said, "but since you can't change what you did, it doesn't do to dwell too much upon what you should have done; you'll just … you'll drive yourself to despair if you do that. You're here now, and safe, and everything else … what matters is the future now, what we do from this point on."

Amber was silent for a moment. "Do you think that I could find where Dove is?"

Sunset felt a pinching feeling in her stomach as though she were being assailed with crabs inside, snapping at her with their little pincer claws. "I … I'm not sure," she murmured. "I could look into it, if you like."

"Would you? Oh, thank you, Sunset," Amber said. "I'd love to see him again. More than anything else in the world."

"Mmm," came Sunset's wordless response.

A few seconds of silence passed between them, Amber toying with the unicorn in her hands.

"Sunset," Amber said softly, "how did we get here?"

"We teleported," Sunset said, relieved to be getting off the topic of Dove. "Using my magic."

"Your magic?" Amber gasped, looking up at Sunset with wide amber eyes. "Are you a Maiden too?"

"Nope," Sunset said. "My power is all mine, and a little different from yours."

"How?"

"I … I'd rather not say, right now," Sunset said. "It's … it's a little personal."

"You don't trust me?" Amber asked.

"It's not that, exactly," Sunset said. "It's just not something that I tell to absolutely everybody."

Amber pouted, but didn't press the point. She closed her eyes and leaned her head on Sunset's shoulder. "All right," she whispered. "I trust you."

"You can trust me," Sunset assured her. "You can trust all of us: me, Pyrrha, Jaune, Ruby, Penny, Blake — you haven't met Blake yet, but she's really reliable — and all the Atlesians too. You can trust all of us. We're all here for you."

"Because I'm the Fall Maiden," Amber said, "and the Fall Maiden is important."

"No," Sunset said, "because you're lost, and scared, and you need help." She took her arm off Amber's shoulder and wriggled sideways a few inches away from her so that they could see each other better. "Amber, look at me."

Amber looked at her. They were so close that Sunset could see every scar upon her face, every mark that Cinder had inflicted upon her, every wound that would never fade, no matter how many years passed.

"I have never met such brave, selfless, kind people in all my life," Sunset declared. "These people, these people whom I'm privileged to know, they … every one of them would do anything they could to help a person in need, someone in your position, Fall Maiden or no. Not because you're important but because you're a person. Because you need help, and help is in their power to give. And because that's just the kind of people they are."

"And the kind of person you are," Amber said, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Sunset let out a sound that was a little more than a chuckle, a little less than a laugh, and a little more bitter than either, "I … no, I don't deserve to be named in their company, I … I got lucky with them, I … I'm the one who makes the magic happen, that's all. I bring the fireworks; they all bring the heart."

"But you're the one who rescued me," Amber pointed out. "Not them."

Sunset snorted. "Well, I … I try my best."

"You said you were a huntress," Amber said.

Sunset nodded. "That's right. We're all training to be huntsmen and huntresses."

"Why?"

"Huh?

"Why do you want to be a huntress?" Amber asked. "I remember … I remember seeing what huntsmen and huntresses have to do. When … when Ozpin taught me about the grimm, I didn't really understand; it wasn't until I saw them that I realised how terrifying they are, so why do you want to fight them? Why do you want to risk your life fighting for Ozpin?"

Sunset sighed. "We all have our own reasons."

"So what are yours?"

Sunset laughed. "Yes, I suppose that's the obvious follow-up question, isn't it? At first, it was all about the fame and glory. I'd had … I was like you, I suppose. I'd had a falling out with my teacher, someone I trusted and admired; I thought they'd lied to me, and worse, they'd lied about how much they cared for me, and so I left home in a huff, and I found my way here. I wanted to prove how great I was and be recognised for it. All this at first. Now…"

"'Now'?" Amber prompted.

Sunset shrugged. "I've found a home here. I've found my place here. I belong here. With my team, with my friends. This is where I stand."

"Your friends," Amber murmured. "Do they know where your magic comes from?"

"Yes," Sunset said quietly.

Amber was silent for a moment. "And you serve Ozpin?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"Then you know … you know about Salem, you know about the Maidens, you know everything."

"I think so," Sunset said.

"Then why?" Amber demanded. "Why are you still here? Why are you still in this fight?"

"Because I've got friends who are too brave to turn away," Sunset said, "and I'm not going to leave them sticking in the wind. Not while I have the power to help them."

Amber closed her eyes. "He'll kill you all," she whispered. "He'll kill you, and your friends."

"Professor Ozpin?"

"Everyone who serves him dies." Amber declared. "He made me a part of this fight like he made my mother, and then…" She paused. "Sunset, is she going to come after me again?"

"Cinder?"

"Is that her name? The one who did this to me?"

"Yeah," Sunset said, as her mouth turned dry. "That's her name. And … she might try again if she knew you were awake, or where you were. But she doesn't, and that's why we're going to be careful to make sure she doesn't find out. And even if she did find out, she'd have a hard time getting into Beacon anyway, and even if she did manage to get into Beacon … we'd protect you from her. So what I'm trying to say is, don't worry, we'll take care of you."

The door opened, and Pyrrha and Jaune walked in; the former was carrying a bundle of clothes in her arms.

"Professor Goodwitch found some of your old things in storage," Pyrrha said, as Jaune shut the door behind them. "Hopefully, it all still fits."

Sunset got up. "Put them down here," she said. "Amber's going to be sleeping in my bed for a while."

"I see," Pyrrha said, putting down the neatly folded clothes on top of the duvet. She looked down at Amber kneeling on the floor. "How do you feel?"

"Still cold," Amber mumbled. "And hungry."

"Here," Sunset said, levitating her jacket up off the floor and handing it to Amber. "You dropped this."

"Thank you."

"Maybe you'll feel better once you get dressed," Pyrrha suggested. "You could take a shower, too, if you like; it's just through that door. As for being hungry … I don't think the cafeteria's open, but I'm sure that I can find something for you. Is there anything in particular you like?"

"Something warm, please," Amber said.

"She's a vegetarian," Sunset pointed out.

Pyrrha glanced at Sunset, then back to Amber.

She nodded. "That's right. I don't eat meat since … I haven't for a long time."

"I see," Pyrrha nodded. "I'll see what I can do."

"Maybe I should take care of that?" Jaune suggested. "If the worst comes to the worst, I can mix something up for you, and Pyrrha and Sunset can stay here with you, I'm not the worst cook ever; in fact, my Mom used to say that I'd be a much better cook than I'd be any of the things that I … actually wanted to be, but the point is, I'm a pretty decent cook, and Pyrrha and Sunset can back me up on that."

"He is very talented," Pyrrha agreed.

"Are you sure?" Amber asked. "I don't want to be any trouble."

Jaune laughed. "It's no trouble. You're our guest, after all."

"Oh," Amber said. "Then thank you; that would be wonderful."

"Okay then," Jaune said. "Let me see what I can do. I'll be back as quick as I can." He left the room as swiftly as he had entered it, the door banging shut behind him.

"Where's Ruby?" Sunset asked, having only now noticed that she hadn't come in with Jaune and Pyrrha.

"She needed to talk to her uncle," Pyrrha said. "Family matters, I believe."

"I see," Sunset muttered. It wasn't the best time, but at the same time, Sunset supposed that it was inevitable given the circumstances. "Listen, will you watch Amber? I need to…" She hesitated, knowing what Amber would likely think of this. "I need to talk to Professor Ozpin."

"Why?" Amber demanded at once. "What do you have to talk to him about? It's about me, isn't it?"

"In a manner of speaking," Sunset said.

"Why? I thought you were on my side."

"I'm just going to make sure that he doesn't bother you anymore," Sunset lied, because she felt the truth — that she felt she owed Professor Ozpin an apology — wouldn't have gone down very well.

Amber regarded her warily. "You promise that you won't be long?"

"No," Sunset said. "I'll be back soon."

XxXxX​

Ruby watched Sunset teleport away with Amber.

"I thought that went really well," Penny said. "Until…"

"Yeah, Penny," Ruby murmured. "Until…"

"I wonder what she has against Professor Ozpin?" Penny asked quietly.

"She's been through a lot," Ruby replied. "Maybe … maybe she's just … she's been through a lot."

"What does that mean?" Penny asked.

"It means…" Ruby hesitated while she tried to find some way to explain it. "It means that you don't always think clearly, coming out of a situation like hers."

"I see," Penny replied. "So do you think she'll come around?"

"I really don't know," Ruby said. "I don't think anyone can know until … time will tell, I guess."

"But it will be awkward if she doesn't, won't it?" Penny asked.

Ruby sighed. "Yeah," Ruby said. "Yeah, it could get pretty awkward."

It could honestly get a lot worse than awkward, all things considered; at some point, even if not until after Cinder was taken care of, Amber was going to have to go back into hiding again; that might be harder to manage if she hated Professor Ozpin and didn't trust him one bit.

Maybe Sunset could persuade her to be a little nicer to the headmaster. Or maybe Amber would encourage Sunset to go back to distrusting him that way that she had.

Time, as she had said to Penny, would tell.

"Ruby?" Pyrrha asked as she and Jaune started towards the elevator. "Are you coming?"

Ruby shook her head. "I'll catch up with you guys," she said. "Uncle Qrow, can we talk?"

Uncle Qrow pulled out his flask and took a swig from it.

"'Talk,' huh? I guess I've got time for that." He screwed the top back onto his flask and put it away. "Oz."

Professor Ozpin didn't respond, or even look at Uncle Qrow. He had barely said a word since Amber woke up, and now, he looked so sad that it made Ruby sad to see him like this. She wished that there was something that she could do to make him feel better, but unfortunately, she couldn't think of anything right now.

"Hey, Oz," Qrow repeated, slightly louder as though the professor might not have heard him the first time.

Professor Ozpin slowly raised his head and looked at him.

"Your guardian seems a little gun shy," Qrow said.

Professor Ozpin was silent for a moment. "She's alive, and awake," he said quietly. "That is … enough, for today."

"Okay," Qrow muttered.

"Professor," Pyrrha said, as she approached a little closer to Ozpin. "I … I'm sorry that things have turned out this way."

"We're all sorry, Professor Ozpin," Ruby said. "We didn't mean for things to be this way."

Professor Ozpin smiled sadly. "Thank you, children. But there is no need to apologise. This is just … the way things are."

He didn't seem to want to talk anymore, so as Jaune and Pyrrha headed for the elevator on the right, Ruby walked towards Qrow where he was leaning against the other wall. She looked up at him, waiting, expectant.

He nodded. "Sure," he said. "Come on, kiddo. Let's get out of here."

They headed to the elevator on the left, but didn't speak even when they got inside it and it began to travel upwards. The knowledge that he had known so much, that he had kept so many secrets from her, the fact of what he had been prepared to do to Pyrrha to keep the Maiden powers out of Cinder's hands … she hadn't spoken to him since that day, when had told her what he was doing here. She hadn't known what to say, how to approach him. The idea of Uncle Qrow, smiling Uncle Qrow, fun Uncle Qrow, Uncle Qrow who always played with her when he visited when they were kids, Uncle Qrow who taught her everything she knew about how to use a scythe when she got older, Uncle Qrow who seemed kind of sad underneath it all but who seemed at the same time to be trying to hide it … the idea of Uncle Qrow being willing to do something like that was … she still had a hard time believing, and when she could believe, she didn't like it, not one bit.

It formed a wall between them. It all formed a wall between them, a wall made up of bricks of years of deception and this big shocking revelation about what kind of … about what he had been prepared to do.

Ruby had no idea how to address it, but she knew that she wanted to.

She knew that she had to.

She wanted to ask him if it was always like this, if he made decisions like that all the time.

She played with her fingers, and she might have pressed all the elevator buttons on the way up except that there were no floors between the vault and the ground with buttons for her to press.

Uncle Qrow didn't look at her. He had his hands thrust into his jacket pockets, and his back was bent a little as he leaned forwards, and he didn't say anything to Ruby as the elevator climbed. And when they reached the ground floor, he just walked out, out of the elevator and out of the tower, leaving Ruby to trail behind him as he headed out into the grounds.

She followed him into the courtyard, until he sat down beneath one of the maple trees, where the golden leaves had already started to fall from the trees, if only just.

"This place sure is beautiful," Uncle Qrow said as he settled his back against the tree trunk and looked out across the courtyard. "I forget that, when I'm away too long. I need to come back just to remind myself. You know, your mom used to sit out here and read when the weather was good. She said she preferred it to being indoors, and me and Raven could both see why. Tai thought we were nuts at first, but … he got it eventually."

Ruby sat down beside him. "Uncle Qrow—"

"Humour me a second, please," Qrow urged. "You can do that, right?"

Ruby hesitated for a moment, and then she smiled at him. "Yeah. Sure, I can do that."

Qrow grinned. He looked away from her, and sighed. "So," he said. "How's school?"

"You mean apart from the fact that I've gotten involved in a war against an immortal monster?" Ruby asked. "Because that part's not what I expected."

Qrow snorted. "Yeah, there's plenty of time to talk about that later. Apart from that."

"It's fine," Ruby said. "It's better than fine. It's been kind of difficult skipping the two years of Combat School, but Sunset helped me out a lot with that, and Pyrrha too. My grades are okay, I guess. I'm acing Grimm Studies."

"Are you getting into lots of trouble?"

"Aren't you supposed to ask if I'm staying out of trouble?"

"Maybe I ought to," Qrow said. "But you know me, right?"

Ruby chuckled. "The only trouble I get into is the kind that Professor Ozpin gets me into."

Qrow winced. "For shame, kid; when I was a little older than you, I was getting detention every other week! You really mean to tell me that you never put a foot wrong?"

"Well … there was that time we had a big food fight in the cafeteria—"

"Oh, a food fight!" Qrow declared enthusiastically. "Yeah, I remember food fights. They were…" He trailed off. "There are a lot of reasons why I didn't tell you about all this," he said, "and there are a lot of reasons why I didn't want you to know, but one of them is … when I look back on the best years of my life, when I look back on the things I remember … none of my memories are about the work that we did for Oz; they're about … they're about being here, with your mom and Raven and Tai just … living, figuring out who we were and who we wanted to be. I wanted you and your sister to have that, without … without this job hanging over your heads all the time."

"Well, when you put it like that," Ruby said softly, "I guess … I still think you should have told us something, but … I guess I get it. Uncle Qrow; is it always like this?"

"Like what?"

"Like … having to ask Pyrrha to get into a machine that might kill her for the good of the world?" Ruby asked. "Is it always hard choices, making trade-offs, weighing the greater good?"

"I hope not, because I'd suck at that," Qrow muttered.

"I'm serious," Ruby insisted.

"And so am I," Qrow replied. "What happened with Amber was a unique situation." He paused. "What's just happened with Amber is a unique situation too; everything's unique these days. My point is … no, it's not usually like this. At least, it's not usually like this for me. Maybe Oz has to do that kind of thing, I don't know, but I … you know that story that you love, the one about the knight, what's her name, Olive?"

"Olivia?"

"Yeah, that's it, her, the shepherd girl," Qrow said. "I'm … I'm Oz's knight, kind of. Only I don't have the armour. Or a horse. And to be honest, I'm not much of a kind of guy for honour or chivalry either, so you could say I'm not much of a kind of knight at all, but I serve Oz all the same. I go where he tells me, I do what he tells me, I fight the battles that he needs to be fought and won. And along the way, I do what I can to help those in need. I don't decide who lives and who dies; I don't make decisions about what has to be done, what the right thing is, what's for the greater good. I leave that to Ozpin. I do what I'm told. I'm a fighter, a warrior, and a damn good one too. That's what I am, that's what I'm good for, that's what I do, for Ozpin and the world."

"You make yourself sound like a soldier," Ruby remarked.

"Hmm?" Qrow murmured. "Well, now that you've said it … now that you've said it, I wish you hadn't, because I hate soldiers, but … yeah, sure. I guess … I guess I am. I'm Ozpin's soldier."

"Like one of General Ironwood's men."

"Now, I really wish you hadn't said that," Qrow said. "I am not like one of those stuffed shirts lining up to kiss Jimmy's ass. You'll never catch me saluting Ozpin or calling him 'sir,' for one thing."

"Do you not like him?"

"Who?"

"General Ironwood."

"Nah, I like him fine," Qrow replied. "He'd be a good guy if he could take that stick out of his butt. But I like to make fun of him from time to time, keeps him on his toes. He needs someone to puncture his ego once in a while, because none of his soldiers is gonna do it for him."

Ruby hesitated. "I … I'm not sure that I like the idea of being a soldier. Having to take orders, not make my own decisions. Don't you ever wish that you were the one deciding where you went and what you did?"

Qrow shook his head. "We need leadership in this war," he said. "We need someone who can stand at the top of the tower and look out, seeing everything that's happening, every battle that has to be fought, every tactic that needs to be countered, everything that has to be done. How am I supposed to know where's the best place for me to go to stop Salem? How are you?"

"How is Professor Ozpin?" Ruby asked. "He's just a person, like us."

"Oz…" Qrow said. "Oz is the wisest man I've ever met, and he has knowledge which has been passed down to him from his predecessors. There's no one better suited to lead this fight or to make these decisions."

"The hard decisions?" Ruby asked. "Like the ones about Pyrrha?"

"Not even Oz makes those kind of decisions lightly," Qrow assured her. "Or often."

Ruby nodded. "I thought that it ought to be easy to make those kind of decisions," she said. "Do what's right, what's best for the greater number, do what will save people … and then you told me about what you were going to do to Pyrrha. And then … then it didn't seem so easy any more."

"Raven once told your mom that she didn't have the stomach to make the hard choices," Qrow said. "And you know what your mom said?"

"No," Ruby said. "Because you've never told me anything about Mom, remember?"

Qrow winced. "Yeah, well, anyway, your mom looked at Raven and said to her 'I think that maybe the hardest choice is choosing to care about other people. You certainly seem to find it difficult.'"

Ruby's eyebrows rose. "That … that was savage."

"I know," Qrow said, chuckling. "I thought Raven was gonna hit Summer for a second."

"Did she?"

"No," Qrow said. "First, she looked surprised, then she looked angry, then … then she looked annoyed that she'd got angry, and then she stormed off without saying a single word. So I guess you could say your mom had the best of that one."

He sighed.

"My point is, don't sweat that you were upset or that you didn't like it or that you let yourself get talked into holding off on it by your Atlas friend. I…" He paused. "Listen, I know that what I said sounded harsh, about you mattering more to me than that other girl. I … I don't apologise for that; you're my niece, you're Summer's little girl, you … of course you're going to mean more to me than someone I don't know. But I want you to know, I need you to know that I'm not in the habit of throwing lives away just to make your life easier. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I didn't really like it any more than you did. It's just that—"

"None of you could see another way," Ruby murmured. "So what happens now?"

"In the long run, I'm not sure," Qrow said. "Only Oz can decide that, and I don't think even he knows at the moment. For now, you need to keep that girl safe. Amber is the most important girl in Vale at the moment, and nothing can happen to her. Not again. So keep an eye on her and watch out for trouble, understand?"

"Got it," Ruby agreed, nodding. "Nothing is going to happen to her from now. We'll keep her safe, Uncle Qrow; I promise."

XxXxX​

"Sir," Rainbow said. "If you have a second, may I have a word?"

The Vault was emptier now than it had been, with Sunset gone, then the rest of Team SAPR, then Qrow Branwen. It was only Team RSPT left with General Ironwood, Professor Goodwitch … and Professor Ozpin, who looked as though he'd frozen up again after Qrow had momentarily shaken him out of it.

General Ironwood glanced at Rainbow. "Just a second, Dash." He turned away, his attention focussed upon Ozpin. "Oz?"

"I am here, James; my spirit has not yet departed from my body," Ozpin murmured.

The way he said it didn't seem to reassure General Ironwood very much. He clasped his hands together behind his back, and clasped them tightly too — as Rainbow could see because the General had his back to her.

"We need to talk about what happens next," General Ironwood said. "In terms of security and in terms of Amber's health."

"Later, James," Professor Ozpin declared. "Amber … Amber has just been through a terrible experience. You are right, decisions will need to be taken, but for now … let her be. She has that right, if nothing else."

General Ironwood nodded. "And you?"

"What of me?" Professor Ozpin asked. "I have not been newly reawakened after a year of sleep, sinking ever closer towards death."

"No," General Ironwood conceded. "But … I know you were fond of her."

"More than fond," Professor Goodwitch added. "Professor … we are your servants, but I hope it doesn't overstep the bounds to say that after long service, in this war and — for my part — in this school, we are your comrades also. If you wish to … we can be here for you, if you need it."

Professor Ozpin's expression did not alter. "Thank you, Glynda, that is very generous, but I … I do not require any assistance."

Are you sure about that? Rainbow thought. Because you look like … you look like someone you loved just told you that they hate your guts. Rainbow imagined that she'd probably look every bit as poleaxed if Twilight or Pinkie told Rainbow that they didn't want to see her around no more, like she'd just been whacked on the head, like she didn't know what to do.

Who was she to you?

"She'll come around, Oz," General Ironwood said.

"Are you so sure of that, James?" asked Professor Ozpin, sounding very much unsure of that.

"Our children are smart," General Ironwood said. "They know the score, they know the situation. In time, they'll understand why we did what we did."

Probably, sir, but I'd still like to talk to you about it.

"I hope … you may be right, James," Professor Ozpin murmured. "That will all, thank you. You may attend to your students, if you wish."

General Ironwood hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Alright then. Dash … Soleil, Twilight? Penny?"

"I … would not object, sir," Ciel said, after a moment's hesitation.

"Nor I," Twilight said quietly.

Penny hesitated, seeming uncertain for a moment. "I … no. It's fine, sir."

She doesn't need to know because she's leaving, Rainbow thought. Fair enough; it's not much matter to her any more. She made up her mind about the General the same as she made up her mind about Atlas.

And that was her choice. It was Professor Ozpin that Penny needed to be concerned with now.

"Very well," General Ironwood said. "Dash, Soleil, Twilight, with me."

He led the way into the elevator, the one that Ruby and her uncle hadn't taken; that had the disadvantage of leaving Penny momentarily alone with Professor Ozpin and Professor Goodwitch, but Rainbow was sure that Professor Goodwitch would take good care of her until the other elevator returned, which shouldn't be long.

In any case, the three Atlesians got in after General Ironwood, with the General himself turned to face them all, his back against the elevator wall as it began to ascend.

"Do you want to discuss what just happened down there, Dash?" asked the General.

"Actually, sir," Rainbow said, swallowing, "I was hoping to talk about a little before that, about before Sunset came up with this whole plan."

"You mean you want to talk about Ozpin's plan," General Ironwood said. "Our plan."

"General," Twilight murmured. "That machine was not built to be used on another person. The effects … there is a chance that they could have been minimal for Pyrrha, but equally, there's a chance they could have been catastrophic. Not to mention the fact that even if Pyrrha suffered minimal ill-effects or side-effects other than possession of the Fall Maiden's power, the process would have killed Amber."

"Amber was dying already," General Ironwood pointed out. "It wasn't believed that there was a way to save her, and when there was, Ozpin took it."

"Yes, sir, but … if you will forgive me bringing my faith into this, this business … it has a whiff of the unholy about it," Ciel said. "To create life using a machine is one thing, to create a machine to preserve life, that is something honourable and noble and pleasing to the eyes of heaven, but … to meddle in the soul is to meddle in things that we do not have the wisdom to use well, which, being the case, we should at least be wise enough to leave it be."

"And let magic fall into the hands of our enemies," General Ironwood said. "And let the ability to access one of the four relics fall into the hands of our enemies? I understand your misgivings, believe me; what we asked of Miss Nikos was not something that I, or Ozpin, or anyone else took lightly. It was a last resort in a desperate situation."

"Throwing a life away, sir?" Rainbow asked. "One of our comrade's lives? Someone who's fought alongside us?"

General Ironwood was silent for a moment. He looked down.

"Was it…?" Rainbow hesitated. "Was it really that desperate, sir?"

General Ironwood didn't reply to that. Instead, he said, "I understand why you have misgivings. I understand why you feel the way that you do. I'm not going to tell you that your feelings are invalid; I'm not going to don a cloak of moral righteousness and tell you that everything I've done has been right and good and just and that to question me is tantamount to treason. In your position, I'd probably react much the same. But as a senior officer, I have to take account of the good not just of all my soldiers, all my students, but also of the good of Atlas, and as a member of Ozpin's inner circle, I have to have regard for the safeguarding of the four relics, of the magic of the four Maidens."

"The magic, sir," Rainbow said, "but not the Maidens themselves?"

"They are one and the same," General Ironwood said. "In most circumstances." He paused a moment. "In my position, in Ozpin's position, with no chance of Sunset Shimmer providing a solution, what would you have done differently? Rather than ask Miss Nikos, or anyone else, to get into the pod, what would you have done?"

Rainbow considered it for a moment. "I … I would have let Cinder get the powers, and then when she got overconfident and tried to go for the relic, I'd hit her with everything we had. Take her out, take the powers back. The magic doesn't make her invulnerable, sir, or else how were the powers taken back the last time? The way I understand it, there was a point when all four Maidens were evil, but they were killed, and the magic was put back into the hands of trustworthy people. It can be done."

"It can," Ironwood said. "But what makes you think Cinder would get overconfident?"

"She accepted a challenge to single combat from Pyrrha for no other reason than she wanted to prove how awesome she was, sir," Rainbow pointed out. "It was kind of nuts on both their parts already, but knowing that Cinder had half the maiden magic, and that if she'd died, it would have all gone back to Amber? She put Salem's plans at risk for her ego, and her ego would swell up twice as large once she became the Fall Maiden for real, no caveats. I think my read on her is right, sir; she'd feel invincible, and she'd forget that she wasn't."

General Ironwood nodded. "I'm not saying that you're wrong. You might even be right. And if you rise up in rank and if you continue to work as part of this group, then there will come a time when you can make your case to whoever stands in Ozpin's shoes one day. That's the privilege of command, that you can stake out your ground and stand by it; the burden of command is that by the time you're in that position, you might not feel the same way anymore."

"If we want to keep working for this group, sir?" Rainbow asked.

"I can't force you," General Ironwood said. "If you want to back out, then so long as you give me your word to keep our secrets, I won't stop you, and neither will Professor Ozpin. No one will fault you if you want no part in this."

"That would be easy, wouldn't it, sir?" Rainbow asked. "But it would also mean that I wouldn't get the chance to make my case, to you or anyone else, and I wouldn't have the right to complain or protest if the people who did stick around decided to ask Pyrrha to get into the pod. No, sir; I'm in on this."

General Ironwood nodded. "And I'm glad to still have you onboard, Dash. I'm glad to have all of you."

XxXxX​

Penny regretted having let the others leave on the elevator without her, as it meant that she was left alone with Professor Ozpin and Professor Goodwitch.

It wasn't that she had any objection to either of them — they were going to be her teachers, after all — but that didn't mean that she knew how to be alone with them.

Especially since Professor Ozpin seemed so sad.

She … kind of understood. She wasn't sure if she understood how people felt well enough yet to completely understand, but she kind of understood. Professor Ozpin had wanted to be so happy here. He had expected to be so happy. He had thought that this was going to be wonderful, absolutely wonderful. But instead … instead, it had all turned out awful.

Penny had never had her expectations disappointed, but she thought that, if she did, if having got her hopes up, everything had just fallen to pieces, shattered like glass, then she would be pretty down about it too.

It must be awful for him, to be let down after having expected so much, hoped for so much.

Of course, she didn't know what he'd done to deserve it, if anything, but … if he'd done something to Amber — besides being willing to kill her to give her magic to Pyrrha, which … wasn't wonderful, but at the same time, it wasn't something that Amber knew about, and also, he'd … not given Amber a choice, but he probably would have if he could, and it seemed as though he'd thought she was as good as dead anyway — then why would he have expected her to be all smiles when she woke up?

If he had done things to her that would make hate him, then why would he care what she thought? You didn't hurt people you cared about, only the ones that you didn't care for, or didn't even see as people at all.

Maybe he deserved it. Maybe. But Penny didn't know that. What she knew was that he looked so sad, and while a part of her wished that she wasn't here to have to watch it, another part of her, a bigger part, wished that she could do something to help him.

Silently, she walked across the vault. To Penny, it sounded like her footsteps were echoing loudly off the walls and ceiling of this enormous chamber, but neither of the two professors paid her any notice at all.

They didn't notice her until she reached Professor Ozpin and reached out to put her hands around his.

"It's going to be alright, Professor," she said. "I'm sure that things will turn out for the best."

"I wish that I could share your optimism, Miss Polendina," Professor Goodwitch said. "Perhaps you wouldn't mind sharing where you come by it?"

"I look," Penny said. "I look around, and I see a world filled with incredibly kind people where things mostly work out for the best, where people survive dangerous missions, where people make friends and fall in love, where people … who realise that they were hurting others apologise and make up for it. I see a world where nothing stays sad forever, or even for very long."

Professor Ozpin looked at her, and looked like he was trying to smile, even if he couldn't quite manage it. "Thank you, Miss Polendina," he said softly. "I appreciate the offer of comfort. But for now, if you would excuse me, I require some solitude."

"Are you sure, Professor?" Professor Goodwitch asked.

"Yes," Professor Ozpin said. "Yes, I must … I must seek for comfort in my own way … if I can."

XxXxX​

Amber stood in the shower, letting the water wash down her back and seep through her hair to drip, drip, drip onto the floor.

She bowed her head, wishing that the hot water which pressed, needle-like, down upon her back could wash away her fears as easily as it washed away the dirt.

She had both her arms resting on the wall, as if she couldn't stand on her own. Maybe she couldn't; she'd hardly tried. She'd always held onto something.

Her whole life holding onto someone else.

In spite of the heat of the shower, which she had turned up to its maximum temperature, she still felt cold, and the hunger in her stomach was like an aching pit.

She felt so cold, so cold and so lonely. Cold and lonely and tired. So tired, even though she had just woken up. Cold and lonely and tired and scared and angry.

"'Oh, brave new world,'" she whispered bitterly.

She bowed her head as the water droplets trickled down her face. They might have almost looked like tears.

She wanted to get away from this place. She wanted to go home, to the cottage in the woods. She wanted Dove, to see him again, to sing to him. She wanted … she wanted to be able to trust Uncle Ozpin again, to be able to love him and to believe that he loved her. She wanted to sit in front of the fire and read with him while they drank hot cocoa. She wanted everything to be the way it was.

Stupid. Things would never be the same again. Even if she could forgive him for what he'd done to her … she could never escape it.

She would never be free from this. She would always be the Fall Maiden.

She would always be hunted.

She turned her head, and Amber caught sight of her reflection, dimly in the shower screen even as the mist began to cloud it over … except it wasn't her reflection; it was Cinder, Cinder smirking at her as the mist rose all around her, Cinder staring at her as though she were prey or meat.

Amber leapt back with a cry of alarm, slipping on the wet floor of the shower and toppling onto her rear, sliding down the wall until she was a tangle of arms and legs on the floor looking up, staring into the mist, waiting for Cinder to stride out of it. Her breath caught in her throat.

There was a knock on the bathroom door. "Amber?" Pyrrha asked. "Is everything alright?"

Amber breathed in and out. She stared. There was no sign of Cinder, nor even her reflection.

"Yes," she said, quietly. She raised her voice. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you for checking up on me."

"It's no trouble at all," Pyrrha said. "If you need anything, just shout for me."

I need someone to keep me safe. I need someone to protect me. Can you do that?

Can anyone do that?

XxXxX​

Sunset's stomach became increasingly unsettled as she rode the elevator up to the top of the tower. She didn't know for certain that Professor Ozpin would be up there — it would make just as much sense for him to still be down below in the vault, brooding — but she thought that he might have retreated to his high sanctum after the disappointment of today.

She felt ill. She felt guilty. She felt responsible. Mostly because she was guilty and responsible. She had had the idea, she had championed the idea, she had brought in Princess Celestia to persuade Ozpin to give her the go ahead, and for a while after that conversation, he had seemed renewed and reinvigorated, a younger man suffused with hope.

And now, that hope was shattered anew, and it was all Sunset's fault.

What must he think of her right now?

It was not something that she could have said to Amber in her current state, but she thought that the Fall Maiden was being too harsh on him, just as Sunset had been far, far too harsh on Princess Celestia. Mistakes did not equal a lack of love, still less its absence. They simply meant that even the wisest were not infallible. Princess Celestia had erred in failing to see early enough that Sunset was not meant to wear the crown or bear the wings of destiny; Professor Ozpin had erred in failing to see that the weight of the Fall mantle would crush Amber beneath it, and it might be said that he had erred the greater in not realising this before he made her the Fall Maiden, or put her in such a position where she might become Fall; but in the end, they were just mistakes, not malice. Princess Celestia had turned out to love Sunset no less, and Professor Ozpin seemed to love Amber no less.

And if Princess Celestia hadn't thought at one point that I had greatness in me, then we would never have had our time together, and I wouldn't trade that for anything.

But how would any of that bring comfort to Professor Ozpin right now? How would any of that make him hate Sunset any the less for what she had done?

The elevator door opened, and the chime seemed almost as though it was ringing for her execution.

Sunset stepped out into the headmaster's office. Professor Ozpin was there, but he had his back to her; his chair was turned right round so that he was looking out of the window.

Sunset advanced, stopping a few feet away from the desk. She found herself standing like the Atlesians did, with her feet spaced out and her hands clasped behind her back.

Professor Ozpin said nothing. Had he not heard the elevator door open?

Sunset cleared her throat.

"I know you're there, Miss Shimmer," Ozpin said softly. He sounded infinitely tired.

Sunset looked down at her feet. "I feel I owe you an apology, Professor," she murmured. An apology was the least she owed, but it was all she could offer right now.

Professor Ozpin's chair swung round until he was facing her. He looked as though he had been crying. "'An apology'? And what do you think you have to apologise to me for, Miss Shimmer?"

For a moment, Sunset was silenced by her incredulity at the words that had just come out of his mouth. "I … well, for what happened down in the vault."

"You promised me that you would bring Amber back," Professor Ozpin said. "And you did. As far as I am concerned, you played your part … magnificently. You don't owe me an apology, Miss Shimmer. Rather, I owe you my thanks, for bringing Amber back to me."

"But…" Sunset stammered. "But she—"

"Hates me?"

"I, um, I wasn't going to use a word that strong, but … something like that."

"And so, because of that, I should wish her dead?" Professor Ozpin asked. "I should wish her dead, and perhaps Miss Nikos too, or both of them dead and something new emerged out of their personalities because at least I would not be disdained by it? Do you think so little of me, Miss Shimmer, that you think my thoughts would run down such dark lines?"

Sunset shuffled on the spot. "No, Professor."

"I'm glad to hear it. And besides, Amber has the right to be angry with me," Professor Ozpin said. "She has been through so much, endured so much … but even if she did not have the right to her anger, that would still not be your fault. You did all you could; I cannot expect you to not only save Amber but to restore the relationship that we once had … the fault is mine for forgetting that our relationship was broken before Amber was attacked."

"She couldn't handle it, could she, Professor?" Sunset asked.

She was aware that she was trespassing on dangerous ground here, that she could very easily by her prying arouse the ire that had not fallen on her for what had happened in the vault. Nevertheless, she wanted to know; she wanted to have her … her suspicions confirmed.

But Professor Ozpin did not seem angry. He barely seemed to react at all, and when he answered, it was in the same melancholy tone as before. "It is a heavy burden, and not for everyone. Not for the wicked, certainly, but even for the good … not everyone can comfortably walk in the shoes of a prophet. And yet, I had been so sure with Amber; I had watched her for so long…"

"She was your student," Sunset said. "Not at Beacon, but … in the way that I was Celestia's student, in the way that she was watching me to see if I could achieve ascension … that was why you visited her so often. You were teaching her, but also seeing if she was the right kind of person to become Fall Maiden."

"I hoped she would be," Professor Ozpin confirmed. "When I found her, a crying babe, the sole survivor of a grimm attack, it seemed like a miracle. We had endured so many losses recently that finding her … something about her seemed almost miraculous. Merida, the Fall Maiden, took her to raise as her own daughter; she too had been drawn by this child, this life in the midst of devastation and destruction; she would suffer none other to raise the girl. She had always wanted a child, but the life of a Maiden … it is rare for them to have the opportunity.

"It was not my first thought, but living together, it was, if not inevitable then at least very likely that Amber would be the last person in Merida's thoughts when she died, the inheritor of Merida's magic. It was pointed out to me as a reason to separate them, but I thought that … I hoped that … it was a kind of experiment, I suppose. An experiment in a natural innocence, someone untainted by the world in all its cruelty. Yes, you are correct; I watched her, from afar and sometimes from close by. And in the watching, I came to … to love her."

"Something else Princess Celestia would recognise, I think," Sunset murmured.

She did not say so, but she could not help thinking that Professor Ozpin's mistake had been in thinking that by this experiment he was creating someone pure of heart and not just someone sheltered and naïve. It was all very well to be raised in the woods with only your mother-figure for company, with occasional visits from your father-figure to tell you of a world that you could never see, and no doubt, Amber had been happy in such a life. But it did not make you an innocent, except perhaps in the sense that you had never had to deal with life and its troubles. That was why, Sunset believed, Princess Celestia had sent Twilight Sparkle to live in Ponyville, not only to be with her friends but also to suffer life in all its tiny tribulations. Yes, Twilight's life was very peaceful and content compared to Ruby's life, or just the life of the average person in Remnant, but nevertheless, the life she had led, the friends she had made, the lessons she had learned had prepared Twilight to ascend and become a princess.

You couldn't call yourself an honest person until you were faced with a situation where it would be advantageous to lie. You couldn't call yourself loyal until you were tempted to betray your friends, your principles, something. It was easy to be kind when everyone you knew was unfailingly kind to you. It was easy to be generous when you lived on the generosity of others. You didn't really know what laughter was until you wept. Amber had not asked for any of this, but neither had she been tested in a manner that would have sufficed in Equestria, let alone in Remnant. She had not had the chance to learn a single lesson that would have prepared her for this exalted state.

It was as Sunset had long thought, ever since reading the myths of the Maidens: Remnant had it backwards, in rewarding you with great power and then expecting you to go out and do something great; in Equestria, you did something great and then you ascended in acknowledgement of your greatness. A much more sensible system.

She kept all these chauvinistic thoughts to herself, of course.

"Amber," she said quietly. "She's upset right now, she's been through a lot and Twilight's right, she doesn't remember everything. She does remember … Professor, did you know that the boy she was in love with is here at Beacon? Dove Bronzewing of Team Bluebell?"

"Yes," Professor Ozpin confessed. "Yes, I know, although I did not know at first. Merida told me that there was a boy, a boy from a village beyond the woods; we had thought that the villagers feared the woods and shunned them, but apparently, this young man was different."

"Like the boy in The Warrior in the Woods," Sunset said.

Professor Ozpin looked as though he might smile. "Yes," he murmured. "Yes, I suppose you're right, Miss Shimmer. In any case, Merida did not tell me his name; she assured me she was dealing with it, and there, the matter rested. I never met the young man in question. But Mister Bronzewing … he came to see me, when the year began; he was searching for Amber. I … I told him nothing. I could not take the risk."

"I haven't told Amber that he's here," Sunset said, "Nor have I told Dove that Amber is here, either, obviously. I thought that I should wait until I'd spoken to you before I did anything—"

"That is very kind of you, Miss Shimmer."

"But … I understand that there are reasons to keep silent," Sunset said. "It was those reasons, as much as anything, that held my tongue with Amber earlier, Dove being ignorant of all these truths under which we labour, but … nevertheless, Professor, I, having had the walk over here and the elevator ride up to your lofty perch to consider upon the matter … I should like to bring them together without delay."

Professor Ozpin was silent for a moment. "I … am not so sure that would be wise, Miss Shimmer."

"Indeed, Professor, I will concede the point, but I might retort that we are at a point where wisdom and we have parted company, and only a choice of gentle follies or of cruel ones awaits us," Sunset said. "She loves him."

"She believes she loves him," Professor Ozpin replied. "It is the privilege of youth in its naïve inexperience to burnish with the name of love the first flush of young affection."

"And it is the tiresome privilege of old age in all its condescending cynicism to deny that the young may feel true passions and understand what they feel, for all that they lack years and disappointments both," Sunset replied, her voice sharpening a little. "Amber is young, yes, as Pyrrha is young, as Jaune is young, and yet, they are in love. Young, inexperienced, but their feelings no less true for it. They are in love, as Amber is in love; I have felt it. I have been into her soul, Professor, which no one else can say, and I have felt the waves of her devotion upon the shores of my soul."

"Can you say that Mister Bronzewing is likewise in love?" Professor Ozpin said. "Have you looked into his soul as well?"

"No, Professor, as you well know," Sunset said. "But … from what I saw in his memories … Amber does not recall him once attempting to take advantage of her, to use her roughly, to be ungentle, or ungentlemanly. Rather, from what I saw, he seemed quite devoted."

"'Seemed,'" Professor Ozpin repeated. "He seemed devoted. And yet, what may seem is not necessarily what is, is it, Miss Shimmer?"

"I do not deny that not all that looks like love is true as gold," Sunset admitted. "Some … some is mere fool's gold in the end. I admit that freely. I have mistaken the two in my own life, I own that fact, but … all I say is that that is not what I felt in Amber's soul and not what I observed in the interactions that she had with Dove that I perceived in her memories."

"And so for the sake of love, you would have me break secrecy and admit Mister Bronzewing into these mysteries, Miss Shimmer?" Professor Ozpin asked. "Is that correct?"

Sunset shuffled a little on the balls of her feet, feeling that she was not doing very well so far; she didn't seem to be making much of an impression on Professor Ozpin. "He need not be told everything, Professor. Of the Maidens yes, but if Amber will keep quiet about Salem and the rest, I do not see that he needs to know it."

"To know of the Maidens is to know quite enough," Professor Ozpin replied. "And I … you will forgive, Miss Shimmer, the condescending cynicism of old age," — it was his own turn to sharpen his voice, to emphasise Sunset's words as he threw them back in her face — "but I have lived through more years than you, and I have seen…" He paused, and sighed, and turned his chair around so that Sunset could no longer see his face; his reflection in the window was rendered vague and indistinct by his distance from it, Sunset could obtain no nuances there.

"I have seen what seemed like love. I have seen what seemed like the greatest love in the history of the world, a true love story for the ages … I have seen such turn to hate and bitterness, a cancer spreading where affection only once ran deep, poisoning all the weeds in the garden."

"Are you talking about Raven Branwen and Ruby's father, Professor?" Sunset asked.

Professor Ozpin let out a bitter laugh. "Would that I were, Miss Shimmer, no, no for all her faults … for all her faults, Raven did not kill her daughter as she departed."

Sunset did not reply to that. There was nothing that she could think to say. This was … this was an instance where youth and inexperience truly rendered her dumbstruck. Infanticide? To hate your husband so much that you would kill your own child or children? Sunset could not fathom the depths of such hatred; even Cinder, who hated many things and many people, would surely not hate someone who had come out of herself so much that she would strike it down to spite another. Such hate … what could breed such anger in a person?

Sunset had been left abandoned, a bawling filly in her swaddling clothes, outside the palace gate; she knew that the mere act of motherhood did not always breed love in the mother, but even the mare who had borne her had been moved enough to make the effort to secure for Sunset a comfortable existence and a bright future.

Fillies and foals were not left behind in Equestria; though their parents might be absent, there would never be any shortage of willing hooves and open hearts to care for their needs.

To kill a child, your own child? Such was the act of monsters greater than any that Equestria had banished to Remnant.

When Sunset found her tongue again, she also found herself darting around the edges of what Professor Ozpin had said. "I think … I think you do Dove wrong to suggest that he is such a man to betray Amber," she said softly. "Though I do not know him well, what I have seen of him has been of a man generous and goodhearted. With no insult to Jaune intended by the comparison, I think he is as worthy to know your secrets as Jaune is."

Professor Ozpin turned his chair to face Sunset once again, wiping at his eye with one hand.

"Yet still you ask me to trust love, Miss Shimmer," Professor Ozpin said quietly. "You ask me to trust love with much that is of great import to the world, and I fear … that is not something I am able to do."

"Then what will you do, Professor?" asked Sunset. "What will you bid me do? Lie to Amber? Keep them apart? I am not sure the school is large enough to make that practical, and even if it were … I make no great claim upon my virtue, Professor. I have done things you know well enough, and things that you do not know perhaps, and amongst those things, I have, Celestia forgive me, told lies by the airship-load, even to those who love me best and have most claim upon my honesty." Wow, put like that, it doesn't make me sound good does it?

What an awful person I am.

Sunset thrust her hands into her jacket pockets, bowing her head, letting her ears droop into her hair and her tail droop limply down towards the office floor, her face falling like her opinion of herself, a chill wind descending on her soul.

Sunset closed her eyes a moment and reminded herself that it was Amber, not her, who mattered now. She looked up — Professor Ozpin had kindly waited for her to continue — and said, "And yet, Professor … I fear that I may have reached the limits of my vices."

"To find one's conscience should never be a thing to fear, Miss Shimmer," Professor Ozpin informed her gently. "Although … why now? If I may ask, and why is this the matter that so offends you? Surely you can see—"

"Yes, Professor, I can see why you do not wish to tell anyone anything more than you have already told them, but this … leaving aside the practicalities — or don't leave them aside, if they will persuade you more than high-minded arguments; how easy do you think it is likely to be to keep the two of them apart? — it is a cruel thing. Amber is … lost. This world is not hers, this life was not of her choosing, by … by your design, although I know you meant no ill by it, nevertheless, by your design, she was given power and thrust into this conflict; as a result, she was attacked, she nearly lost her life, and now … now, she is lonely and frightened, and her life will never be what she would wish or imagined it might be. Now … I have the kindest team, and I have no doubt that they will make Amber welcome, but to deny her someone who would support her, stand by her side, soothe the sting of … all else that hangs over her, you would not deny her that? I know that you are not a cruel man, Professor, though you have made some decisions that might be called cruel for reasons … be kind, Professor, I beg of you. Do not become that which Amber believes you to be."

Professor Ozpin hesitated. He did not agree, but he did not refuse her outright either.

Sunset pressed home her advantage. "And if that does not move you, then one more practical point: if Amber finds Dove, as she might, if fate and chance should have them meet, and she finds out that I have lied to her in your instruction … she will revile me as much as she does you. Though she trusts me now, that trust will not survive such a discovery."

"And that would never do," Professor Ozpin murmured. "You are correct, Miss Shimmer; she would think that you are nothing more than my lackey, set to manage her on my behalf, and I cannot have that. You must stay close to her, for her own sake; you must retain her trust so that you can protect her, at least for now." He paused. "You are certain of Mister Bronzewing's heart?"

"I do not claim to know his heart, Professor, only Amber's," Sunset admitted, "but what I have observed of his conduct puts me at ease."

Professor Ozpin nodded. "Then introduce them. Reintroduce them, rather. Amber may ask why you did not do so immediately, but you may blame me for the minor delay; let the odium in which I am held shield you in Amber's good opinion."

Sunset frowned slightly. "She will forgive you, Professor, and remember that you love her, and she loves you also."

Professor Ozpin almost smiled. "Whence comes this optimism, Miss Shimmer?"

"I forgave," Sunset replied. "I understood that that which I had hated and resented was, in itself, love, and an attempt to protect me, even from myself. I forgave, and I understood, and now, love flows between us once again."

"Well, we can only hope, can't we?" Professor Ozpin said lightly; so lightly that Sunset thought he might not be taking her entirely seriously. The lightness ebbed from his tone as he asked, "How is she?"

"Cold, hungry, curious," Sunset said. "Pyrrha is with her now, while Jaune is trying to rustle up something to eat for her." She paused. "I could put in a good word for you with her, if you—"

"No," Professor Ozpin said at once. "No, Miss Shimmer, that is not necessary. Pay me no mind; focus on Amber; make her welcome, stand with her in the battle that may come … and make her happy, if you can. But most of all, please take good care of her."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Born Romantic

​

"Pyrrha?"

Pyrrha looked up from her book, eyes fixing upon the bathroom door. Amber was still inside, although the sound of the shower had died down a little while ago. Presumably, she was getting dressed.

Pyrrha set her book — the Fairytales of Remnant book; she had intended to re-read some of her old favourites, The Shallow Sea or The Girl in the Tower, but had found herself drawn instead inexorably towards The Story of the Seasons, to the story of the first Maidens and how they had acquired their powers; she had found it impossible not to read it — aside and got to her feet. "Yes? Is everything alright?"

"Yes," Amber said softly, or perhaps her voice only seemed soft because a closed door separated them. "This makeup, who does it belong to?"

"That depends," Pyrrha answered. "Some of it's mine, and some of it belongs to Sunset."

There was a moment of silence, before Amber asked, "Can I borrow some of it?"

Pyrrha smiled, if only to herself since there was no one else around to see her smile. She walked briskly across the bedroom, passing in front of Sunset's bed — Amber's bed now — to reach the bathroom door. "May I come in?"

There was another pause before Amber opened the bathroom door. She was dressed in an off-white blouse with short sleeves, stopping above her elbows, and frilly lace-like detailing around the shoulders and the swooping neckline. A central split led the eye down to the pleated, almost peplum-like lower half that covered her thighs above her dark brown trousers. Most of said trousers were hidden, disappearing into a pair of sturdy brown thigh-high boots, boots which were, themselves, covered from the knees on down by a pair of gilded armoured boots, high-heeled with decorative work around the knee that could not but put Pyrrha in mind of her own greaves, even if they were not quite so detailed in the workmanship. Amber's blouse was partially obscured by a brown vest which fastened about her torso like a bustier, but which also incorporated a high collar that fastened tight around her neck, while leaving her chest and the collar of her blouse exposed. An amber pendant, decorated with a trio of small feathers in red, green, and gold, was fastened onto the shoulder of her vest.

A gilded pauldron rested on her right shoulder, while a similarly gilded vambrace upon black leather was fastened around her left wrist. A pair of golden bangles hung loosely from her right wrist, falling down onto her hand.

"That outfit suits you," Pyrrha said. "You wear it very well."

"Oh, do you think so?" Amber asked, looking down. "It isn't my favourite. I suppose Ozpin gave this outfit to you because he knew that it wasn't my favourite."

"It was Professor Goodwitch who gave us these clothes for you, not Professor Ozpin," Pyrrha pointed out, "and in any case, I think you do Professor Ozpin wrong to suggest that he would be so petty."

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Amber cried. "Maybe if he turned you into one of his Maidens, then you'd understand how awful he can be!"

He did, or tried to at least, Pyrrha thought, and in ways that were more awful than simply inheriting the powers naturally, or at least as naturally as can be where magic is concerned.

For that reason, amongst others, she could not wholly deny Amber her right to dislike Professor Ozpin, or to hold him responsible for her condition. It was as she had discussed with Penny: had Amber chosen this, had she known what she was getting into? It seemed that the answer was no, and that … that did not reflect well upon Professor Ozpin.

At least I was given a choice to make with eyes wide open.

"I … do not tell you not to blame him," Pyrrha murmured. "You have the right, but nevertheless, Professor Ozpin is not a petty man; he is not cruel and certainly not for cruelty's sake. You do not have to like him, but he did not give you this outfit out of spite."

"Mmm," Amber murmured wordlessly. Her right hand brushed against the pleated hem of her blouse. "I think … I was wearing this when … when … I was … when—"

"I think I can guess; you do not need to say it," Pyrrha said quickly. Perhaps you could have tried to find her something else, Professor Goodwitch. "If you're not happy about it … I'm a little taller than you are, but I might have an outfit that would fit you, and if not, then I'm sure Sunset wouldn't mind—"

"No," Amber said, "it's fine."

"Are you sure?" Pyrrha asked. "Because you don't have to wear that if you don't want to."

Amber shook her head. "It's fine," she repeated. "Do you … do you really think that it looks good?"

Pyrrha nodded. "I do," she said, smiling, glad that they had put the discussion of Professor Ozpin behind them. It was not something that she really wanted to discuss with Amber. It wasn't something that she really wanted to think about, in all honesty. She didn't want to think about what he had asked of her, what she had been prepared to do, what had … what it might have cost her.

She didn't want to think about any of that. She didn't want to try and reconcile in her head the great hero of Ozpin's Stand, the figure of authority, the defender of the world, with the man who had, however gravely and solemnly, however filled with regret his voice had been, who had nevertheless asked that of her.

Pyrrha was not Sunset, to reject the idea that they might be called upon to make sacrifices; as a huntress, as a warrior, it might one day be her fate to flee in anger down to the shades. But to die in the dark, unknown, unheralded, unwitnessed, facing no foe, crafting no legend, that was utterly alien to the Mistralian mindset. To die at all was something to be avoided, but to die in such a way … Professor Ozpin had asked her to commit herself to oblivion.

Even though it was for a worthy cause, for the worthiest cause, nevertheless … she did not want to think about it. Or him, at the moment.

So she kept her focus upon Amber, adding, "That blouse is very lovely; that detailing in particular is very fine."

Amber smiled at her, a smile that robbed the scars upon her face of some of their harshness. "Thank you. I added that myself."

Pyrrha's eyebrows rose. "Did you?"

Amber nodded. "Un— Ozpin brought me the lace from Vale, or actually, I think it's from Mistral originally, but Ozpin got in Vale, and I added the decoration onto my shoulders and collar; before that, it was just a little bit too plain."

"I see," Pyrrha said. She chuckled. "You did not make the armour yourself as well, did you?"

The smile faded from Amber's face, bringing her scars back into sharp relief; they seemed especially prevalent around and beneath her left eye, forming a dark mass where the individual marks became indistinguishable, so that when Amber's face fell, it looked as though she were weeping horribly, all of her tears flooding out of that one eye and pooling beneath it before spreading out across her face.

Weeping, or bleeding.

Amber raised her left arm to her right shoulder, the hand beneath which sat her vambrace lightly touching her shoulder pauldron.

"The armour … no," she murmured. "No, the armour was given to me."

Like your magic.

"I … I didn't mean to upset you," Pyrrha said softly. "I'm sorry."

Amber looked back up at her. "It's not your fault," she said. "It's just… I didn't really want to learn to fight, but my mother insisted. I didn't understand why."

Pyrrha chuckled softly.

"What's so funny?" Amber asked.

"Nothing," Pyrrha said quickly. "I just … know a little about mothers forcing you to learn things that you might not choose otherwise. Of course, you don't have to wear the armour if you don't want to."

Amber glanced at her shoulder pauldron. "What if she comes back?"

Pyrrha didn't need to ask who 'she' was. "Then I will make her regret it."

"She's very strong," Amber said.

Stronger still since you met her last. "I … am not without strength myself," Pyrrha said, "and regardless of Cinder's power, I will not allow any harm to come to you by her hands, or any others, while I live." She reached out, taking Amber's right hand, her free hand, the hand that was not resting upon her pauldron, in both of her own hands, resting her brown-gloved fingertips upon Amber's golden bracelets. "If, by my life or death, I can protect you, I will. I swear it by the seas and the skies and on the honour of my name of Nikos long-renowned."

Amber stared up at her, eyes wide. "Why … why would you say something like that? Why would you promise that?"

"Because…" Pyrrha felt her cheeks heat up a little. "Because I am a Mistralian, and I'm afraid we have a terrible weakness for the dramatic. Because you are important, and because it would be a terrible thing were you to … were you to fall, and that was not an intentional play on words, I swear it; because you are in danger, and a huntress should fight for those who are imperilled. Because I am a warrior, and it is my part to fight. Because Cinder is my enemy, and it is my part to oppose her." Because Cinder claims to be the spirit of Mistral, to embody our values, to be the inheritor of our traditions; and as the spirit of Mistral, as the embodiment of what it means to be Mistralian, she put those awful wounds upon your face and tore your aura. If that is what it means to be Mistralian, then woe unto us; does not Mistral deserve to be destroyed if the true heir of its spirit is so sunk into malice?

I would prove that our values are of a finer sort, the only way that I know how.

"Because…" she went on, "I say it because I would do it."

"You don't even know me," Amber said.

"That could change," Pyrrha remarked. "If you wish it so." She smiled. "My name is Pyrrha Nikos, and I say once more that it is an honour to meet you."

"Because I am the Fall Maiden," Amber murmured.

"Would you prefer that I said it was a pleasure to meet Amber?" Pyrrha asked.

Amber hesitated, before a slight trace of a smile returned to her face. "Yes. Yes, I would like that better."

"Then it is very nice to meet you, Amber," Pyrrha said.

Amber's little chuckle was so little that Pyrrha could barely hear it, but hear it she did, if only faintly. "It's very nice to meet you too, Pyrrha," she said, curtsying as she spoke, the toe of one armoured boot tapping lightly upon the linoleum of the bathroom floor as she did so. "You said that you were a Mistralian? That's someone from Mistral, isn't it?"

Pyrrha nodded. "Yes, that's it exactly."

Amber nodded. "Can I sit down? You might think this sounds silly, but I feel a little tired, and my legs are heavy."

"Of course," Pyrrha said, backing away, turning aside, leading Amber gently towards Sunset's bed — Amber's bed. They both sat down upon it, the mattress crumpling somewhat beneath their combined weight, Pyrrha's sash dropping down to rest upon the floor at her feet.

Amber placed her right hand on top of Pyrrha's knuckles, her fingertips upon Pyrrha's vambrace. "What's it like?" she asked. "Mistral, I mean. U— Ozpin told me a little about it, and he made it sound…"

Pyrrha waited a moment. "He made it sound what?"

"He … he made it sound very grand," Amber said. "So grand that I wanted to see it for myself one day, but then it was as though he was afraid that he'd made it sound too grand, and then he told me it was not so great and that if I ever came to it, I should count myself very unfortunate. I think he was just trying to keep me where I was, so that he could control me better."

"That … is a harsh judgement of his motives," Pyrrha said quietly. "In truth, Mistral is not a paradise. There are those, like my friend Arslan, who grow up in poverty, under the shadow of crime and want. Certainly, Professor Ozpin spoke true when he described the city as having a dark side; though I know little of it myself, it does have a reputation which goes before it into Remnant." In that sense, though she would hate to hear it I'm sure, Cinder is a true Mistralian, though a true Mistralian of the lower slopes rather than sprung out of The Mistraliad. "But to say that you would be unfortunate to ever find yourself in Mistral … there, Professor Ozpin has misled you, and done my city wrong besides. For if Mistral has a dark side, then it is a shadow cast by a radiant light which shines down from above. Mistral … I speak with all the fondness of a native daughter, and perhaps you should remember that before you take my word for it, but to me, there are few sights more pleasing to the eye or stirring to the soul than the sight of Mistral from the air as an airship carries me home. The whole city is built upon a great mountain, layer upon layer cut into the rock, and atop the very pinnacle, like a spear raised in salute towards the sky, stands the White Tower, where of old, the watchers would look out for the return of our princes and our heroes from their wars and adventures. 'Now all her princes are come home again, come the three corners of the world in arms, and we shall shock them; naught shall make us rue, while Mistral shall to Mistral's self be true.'"

"Is that poetry?" Amber asked.

"Yes," Pyrrha replied. "It's Aeschylus; he is a little out of fashion these days, but I find that for traditional — one might call them old-fashioned — sentiments, he cannot be bettered by any of the newer writers." She paused. "In any case, where was I?"

"The view," Amber said, "is it beautiful?"

"Very much so," Pyrrha confirmed. "Especially at the break of day, when the sunlight rises up the city like a great wave sweeping in from the east, making the temples and the palaces gleam before lastly coming to the White Tower itself which glows like polished alabaster, it … it is magnificent, and beautiful. And once you land in the city, there is much beauty to be admired, as I say the temples, whether they are still in use or no … immense columns hold up the roofs, rising heavenward to bear a weight like the firmament upon themselves, statues of gold and bronze, of painted marble and of Imperial porphyr—"

"Statues of what?" interrupted Amber.

"Gods, heroes," Pyrrha said, "nymphs of the rivers and spirits of the sky, guardians of fountains and protectors of the woods, all manner of things honoured in stone or metal."

"Ozpin told me that Mistral is the heart of fashion," Amber said, "that there are no more beautiful outfits than those that come from there. Is that true?"

"Oh, without doubt," Pyrrha agreed. "Would you like to see some examples?"

Amber's eyes lit up. "Could I?"

Pyrrha laughed brightly. "Stay right there," she said as she got up from off the bed and whirled on one toe, her crimson sash flying around her as she turned away from Amber and walked to the closet on the far side of the dorm room, flinging it open to reveal all the clothes stored within.

Of which, it had to be admitted, the greatest part were hers.

Pyrrha considered for a moment, and then stepped somewhat into the walk-in closet, reaching out with one hand to grab the black and green dress that she had worn to visit Jaune's family in Alba Longa. It did not have the belt or the cape, but it was nevertheless a pretty dress; at least, she thought so — and Jaune had thought so too — and so, she lifted it off the rail and pulled it towards her, turning in place to face Amber as held the dress up in front of her.

Amber's eyes widened as she clapped her hands together in delight. "Oh my goodness, how lovely!"

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" Pyrrha agreed. "And that's not all." She put the green and black dress back in the closet and drew out the red dress, with the long slit sleeves that did not cover the arms at all but rather fell down off the shoulders towards the floor, the one that she had worn to dinner with Jaune's family after she had won their acceptance at last. That dress, she presented to Amber in turn, once more holding it up in front of herself.

"That looks wonderful too," Amber declared. "But I think I prefer the green one."

"Do you?"

Amber nodded. "It's a little plainer, but still I … I think it's more beautiful."

"It is prettier, if not so plain, with the belt around the waist," Pyrrha remarked. "You could try it on, if you like?"

"Really?" Amber said. "But it's yours."

"And as it is mine, I'm offering to let you wear it, if you wish," Pyrrha said.

Amber smiled. "Oh, thank you!" she said, starting to get up. "That would be…" She stopped, sinking back down onto the bed. "No," she said, more quietly. "No, thank you. That … that's very kind of you, but no."

Pyrrha's brow furrowed beneath her circlet. "It would be no trouble at all, I assure you."

"I said no!" Amber snapped. She looked away, hugging herself with both hands, shivering a little. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice dropping even as she bowed her head. "But no. No thank you."

Pyrrha swallowed. "Very well," she murmured. "I wouldn't want to impose, after all." She put the red dress back in the closet and shut the door. She had a feeling Amber wouldn't want to see any more of her wardrobe.

"Mistral sounds very beautiful," Amber said. "Beautiful and wonderful and … and I wish I could see it for myself."

I could take you there, if you like, Pyrrha thought. We could all go, once the Vytal Festival is over, all five of us. Only the thought of what Professor Ozpin might say held her tongue; he might not want to let Amber leave Vale, to go so far beyond his reach, to entrust her only to the care of Team SAPR.

Amber was still turned away from Pyrrha, presenting her back as she embraced herself, back bent, trembling as though it had turned cold.

Poor girl, Pyrrha thought, and suddenly, the idea of what Professor Ozpin might wish seemed to matter a little less; certainly, they mattered a little less than the girl in front of her who had suffered so very much, and who even now stood in grave peril.

But she would be as safe in Mistral as in Vale, would she not? More, perhaps, since Cinder was not in Mistral. Although she might go there easily enough, and Salem had other servants no doubt.

And, with no offence to Polemarch Yeoh, perhaps to call Mistral as safe as Vale is a little optimistic at present.

Of old, it was said that in Mistral, five hundred swords would leap from their scabbards to avenge the merest flush of outrage on a fair maid's cheek; would that it were so now, then what would Amber have to fear of Cinder or all the rest of Salem's lackeys?

Yet wishing will not make it so.

Nevertheless, Pyrrha walked back towards Amber and said, "Perhaps we might visit one day, if you wish, the five of us?"

Amber looked at her. "'The five of us'?"

"You, me, and the rest of my team: Sunset, Jaune, and Ruby," Pyrrha explained. "I already took my teammates for a visit during the spring break, but I'm sure they wouldn't mind going back again with you. I … I cannot say exactly when we might go; I think it would have to wait until … until things had calmed down a little, until they were safe, but—"

"I'll never be safe," Amber said in a voice that was half moan, half murmur. "I'll always be in danger. They'll always be after me."

"Perhaps not," Pyrrha replied. "And at least perhaps not as … urgently. You'll always have to take care, maybe, but … but that's why we would go with you, not only to show you the delights of my home but also to keep you safe."

Amber was silent for a moment. "I'm not sure that day will ever come," she said. "But all the same … you're really very kind."

"I try to be," Pyrrha said, "especially to those who are so … deserving of kindness as you."

Amber did not look at her, nor did she speak for a moment. "Pyrrha," she said, "may I ask you something?"

"Of course," Pyrrha said, "anything you like."

"You … you know, don't you?" Amber asked. "You know everything, about the Maidens, and magic, and Salem, all of it?"

"Yes," Pyrrha replied, a little stiffly. "Yes, we know everything: the four of us, and Blake, and our friends of Team Rosepetal from Atlas. Professor Ozpin told us all." Eventually, at least.

"And you serve him?" asked Amber. "You serve Ozpin, the four of you?"

Pyrrha nodded. "We do. He asked for our assistance at a moment of need, when he had no one else to turn to."

Amber fell silent again. "Why?"

"Why?" Pyrrha repeated. "Why do we serve Professor Ozpin?"

"Why do you fight?" Amber asked, looking at Pyrrha now, full in the face. "Why do you risk your lives like this, fighting a battle that can never be won, when the only thing that can be done is to hide away and hope that no one finds you, when you might die for someone who uses you and lies to you and who doesn't care about you except for what he can get out of you, why do you … why do you fight at all?" She paused. "I've never liked fighting. My mother and Ozpin told me that I had to learn, and so I did. They even told me that I was good at it, and maybe I was, maybe … there was a moment, when she came for me, when I thought that I was going to win, when it seemed like they were going to fall before me, but … maybe I am good at it, or maybe I was, at least, but I never liked it. I never liked it, not one bit; I never wanted to do it; I only learnt because they made me. Why do you fight? Why do you choose to be here?"

"Those are … interrelated questions," Pyrrha replied. "But not exactly the same."

She walked back to Amber, not sitting down but standing over her, looking down on her. Looking down while she wondered where to begin. With her family? With her name and its proud history? No, Amber might not understand that, and besides, it was quite refreshing to speak to someone who had absolutely no idea of who she was. With her sense of destiny? No, that would sound too vainglorious. What then? How to explain it?

"I hardly know where to begin," Pyrrha murmured. "But perhaps on the most belly-to-earth level … I enjoy it. I like winning, and my skill has won me some measure of acclaim in the arenas of my home. I have not always enjoyed the attention, but I find that I do enjoy being the best, being seen as the best, being respected for the skills to which I have devoted myself."

"That doesn't explain why you chose those skills," Amber said. "Couldn't you have done something else?"

Pyrrha chuckled. "My mother, like yours, might have had something to say about that," she said. "But more than that … I fight because it is my duty to do so. As a skilled warrior, if I do say so myself, it is my obligation to fight on behalf of those who are or would be less capable, to fight the battles that they cannot, to be a champion for them, a hero, a benefactor to mankind. That is why I am here, that is why I fight, that is why I serve Professor Ozpin, though the odds be great and a final victory out of sight and hopeless. Though all those things be true, they do not alter what I owe to Mistral and to Remnant: my sword and shield, my shoulder and my soul—"

"And your life," Amber whispered.

Pyrrha nodded gravely. "If it comes to it."

"And it's that simple?" Amber asked. "You can say those things and … and mean it? You can say those things, and you are not afraid?"

"I am not without fear," Pyrrha admitted, "but equally, I hope that I am not without courage."

Amber was silent for a moment. "I was afraid," she admitted. "I didn't ask for this, for any of this. I don't owe anyone anything; why do you think that you owe so much, where does your duty come from?"

"From the fact that I have had a life of luxury and privilege, given everything that I could want or wish for," Pyrrha said. "I must repay however I can, and this is the only way."

Amber stared up at her. "You speak so strangely to my ears," she whispered.

Pyrrha laughed, covering her mouth with one hand. "That is because I am from Mistral, I'm afraid. If you come to visit — when you come, if you still wish to — then I'm afraid you'll have to get used to the fact that many people speak thus. Mind you, if you spend enough time around Sunset and myself, you will grow well used to it long ere you set eyes upon the White Tower — used to it, or sick of it perhaps, I cannot say which."

Amber giggled, covering her own mouth in turn, her shoulders quivering up and down. "'Oh, brave new world,'" she whispered.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, it's nothing," Amber said quickly. "It's just … something from a book that Un— that Ozpin gave me. 'Oh, brave new world that has such people in it.'"

"Well, I wouldn't…" Pyrrha trailed off, finally sitting down beside Amber once more. "You must have been very fond of Professor Ozpin once, to have called him Uncle." She smiled. "Or perhaps I have misunderstood completely and you once called him Ungulate Ozpin or something of that sort."

Amber didn't smile, but then, it had been an appallingly bad attempt at humour.

"I loved him once," she confessed. "When I thought he loved me too. Before I understood."

Pyrrha looked away from her, looking at the wall and the open door into the bathroom. "I too have been somewhat disappointed in the professor of late," she admitted. "And yet, I believe that he means to do good for the world."

"'For the world,'" Amber said. "But not for me, not for you, not for us. I hate him." She frowned. "But I don't want to talk about him. I don't want to think about him. I wish he wasn't here. I wish that I'd never met him." She clasped her hands together, resting them upon her knees. "What's it like?"

"What … is what like?" asked Pyrrha. "I'm afraid that I don't follow."

"A life of luxury and privilege," Amber said. "That's what you said, isn't it? That's the life you had, in Mistral. That's the life you gave up to come here and fight."

"It is not so simple as all that," Pyrrha said. "My life is still one of luxury and privilege, just in a different setting, and perhaps in a different manner. It was — it is — wonderful in some respects, I will not deny it. You have seen some of the wonderfulness of it already: an expansive wardrobe filled with the finest fashions of Mistral and Atlas. Maids to attend to my needs. The finest weapons created by the master craftsmen of the city. I grew up in a great house, with a large garden … and was never allowed to forget the debt that I owed, the legacy of those who came before that it was my duty to live up to: service, valour … and, if necessary, sacrifice." She could have gone on, talking about the jealousy, the desire on the part of some to see her brought low, to find some chink in her armour, to chip away at her statue, but she did not wish to speak thus, nor did she think that Amber really wished to hear it. Instead, Pyrrha said, "And what of you? Where did you grow up?"

"In a cabin in the woods, with my mother," Amber replied. "We … I would say we grew our own food in our garden, but that isn't strictly true. Well, it is true, but…" She leaned closer to Pyrrha and spoke in a whisper, as though she were confessing some grave secret. "Mother used her magic to make the vegetables grow, so it wasn't really as hard work as saying that we grew our own food makes it sound."

Pyrrha's eyebrows rose. "Your mother … she was a Maiden?" Of course she was, she realised after a moment's thought; that was how Amber had acquired the powers despite not wishing them.

A mother's last thoughts of her daughter.

Amber nodded. "She was the Fall Maiden. She didn't seem to mind, but … but if she hadn't been, then maybe we wouldn't have had to live in the woods all alone, hiding from Ozpin's enemies."

"Was it a hard life?"

"No," Amber said quickly, shaking her head. "No, it … it was quite wonderful, really. Not like your life in Mistral at all, but all the same, quite wonderful. We didn't just grow vegetables but flowers too, roses and violets and camelias. Mother didn't use her magic on those; we actually had to work to make them grow, only it didn't seem like work, but fun, tending to them, watering them, watching them spring out of the ground and bloom so beautifully. Because I didn't have to work to make the cabbages or the cauliflowers grow, I had lots of time to read and sketch and sing — when Mother and Ozpin weren't making me train, anyway. There was an old ruined chapel near our home, from when there used to be a village there, but it was abandoned and swallowed up by the woods." Amber paused a moment. "I used to love to go there, to walk in the ruins. There wasn't a lot left, a few walls that were falling down, some bits of stone here and there, and a statue; a statue of a woman. I don't know who she was, even Ozpin didn't know, but she looked so beautiful, so serene, and when I was there, it was like she was always looking down at me, at me specifically, with so much kindness." She looked at Pyrrha. "Like you."

Pyrrha let out a little gasping chuckle. "I am not made of stone," she pointed out.

"No," Amber admitted. "But … I used to go there and sing. It always felt so…"

"Melancholy?" Pyrrha suggested.

"I suppose," Amber replied. "But at the same time, I always used to love it there. There was so much peace. So much calm. It was like its own world, that nothing could disturb and nothing bad could happen. Like the statue was watching over me and keeping everything else bay, everything bad anyway. That was one of the things I wanted to go back to."

She held out her hand, reaching towards Pyrrha without actually touching her.

Pyrrha took her hand once more, squeezing it not too tightly, but gently and — she hoped — reassuringly.

She was curious about what Amber had said, about her mother using the magic of the Maidens to grow vegetables. It made sense, of course; it fit with the story of the original Maidens — they had, after all, revitalised the old man's garden and brought forth nature's bounty from it — but it was not something that she had considered before. It was not something that she associated with a great leader or a figure of inspiration.

That is because I am too privileged in upbringing, no doubt. I am sure that to many, the ability to bring forth vegetables out of the earth without much back-breaking labour would be the most inspiring thing they could ever behold.

And, really, what are the powers for if not for such as that? To war? That was not something the original four sisters did, that was not something that inspired the old man and moved him to create the Maidens in the first place, that was … something given to protect them, if it was an intended side-effect at all.

I think, now that I do think on it, that what Amber's mother did was more in keeping with the intent of he who granted the magic to the First Maidens than anything that I have seen Cinder do, or could have imagined doing with such power myself.

Save, of course, that they were wielded in secret only.

She said, "Amber— makeup!"

Amber jumped a little. "What?"

Pyrrha chuckled. "You came out of the bathroom asking about borrowing either mine or Sunset's makeup, and then we got to talking and completely forgot about it."

Amber blinked. "Oh, yes. Yes, I suppose we did, didn't we?" She looked away. "It doesn't matter. There's no point anyway."

Pyrrha frowned slightly. First the dress, and now this. "Amber," she said gently, "is something wrong?"

Amber hesitated for a moment, and then for a moment more, before she said, "Isn't it obvious? What would I do with pretty dresses or with makeup? Look at me! Look at what she did to me. Look at … I'm hideous."

"No," Pyrrha said. "No, you aren't hideous."

"Yes, I am; look—"

"I am looking," Pyrrha said, and with her free hand, she reached out and touched Amber's cheek, turning her head so that Amber was looking at her, and she was looking straight at Amber.

"I see," Pyrrha said, "a pair of very striking eyes—"

"Set in a ruined face," Amber said.

"That is not your fault or your doing."

"But it is my shame," Amber whispered.

"'Shame'?" Pyrrha repeated. She shook her head. "No, never shame. You should not be ashamed."

"That's easy for you to say when you're beautiful," Amber said.

Pyrrha had to concede that that was, or at least might be, true. If their positions were reversed, she probably wouldn't enjoy having the marks of what had been done to her permanently upon her face for all to see either.

"Makeup may conceal it, if you wish," she suggested. "Although, since both Sunset and I have a paler complexion than you do, I'm not sure that we have the right kind of makeup to suit you. But I do know who will."

"Who?" Amber asked.

"Ciel Soleil, one of our Atlesian friends," Pyrrha replied. "She's always very well put together, and of your colouring; I've no doubt that she has something that will suit you perfectly. If you don't mind, I'll ask her to come and join us."

"Is there any point?" asked Amber.

"You'll never know if you don't try," Pyrrha said. "You wouldn't have asked about borrowing our makeup if you didn't want to look your best, and maybe you can, with Ciel's help."

Amber hesitated a moment. "If you say that she's alright," she murmured, "then very well, let her come."

"Excellent," Pyrrha said quietly. "I'll just send her a message."

She turned away and swiftly got out her scroll asking Ciel if she wouldn't mind coming down to the SAPR dorm room — and bring her makeup with her for Amber.

It did not take long at all — barely after Pyrrha had sent the message — for Ciel to reply that she would be with them directly.

"She's on her way," Pyrrha announced as she turned back to face Amber once again, her sash whirling around her as she turned.

"I see," Amber said, without too much enthusiasm; perhaps she still didn't believe that much could come from it. She looked past Pyrrha, her eyes glancing around the room. She saw something of interest, although Pyrrha couldn't immediately tell what it was, and craned her neck to get a better look at it, rising just an inch or two up off the bed. "Is that a guitar?"

Pyrrha looked around to see where Amber was looking: Jaune's guitar was stored underneath his bed, but the head was just sticking out at present, visible from where Amber was sitting.

"Yes," Pyrrha said. "Yes, it is."

"Is it yours?"

"No, it belongs to Jaune," Pyrrha explained. "I don't know how to play any instruments — I never had the time to learn — but Jaune plays very well indeed."

"Can he sing, too?"

Pyrrha beamed. "Yes," she said, "Yes, he has quite the delightful voice."

"Does he—?" Amber began, before she was interrupted by a knock at the door.

"I expect that will be Ciel," Pyrrha said, walking to the door and opening it.

It was indeed Ciel, with a bag hanging from her arm which Pyrrha guessed contained her cosmetics, but she was not alone; Blake stood half a step behind her.

"Blake," Pyrrha said, "what a pleasant surprise."

"Your message mentioned makeup for Amber," Ciel said. "I do not wear eyeshadow, but since Blake has a similar eye-colour to Amber, I thought that she might be able to assist in that regard."

"I'm not sure they are as similar as all that," Pyrrha said. "Blake's eyes are gold; Amber's eyes are, well, amber."

"I might be able to help," Blake said. "Plus, I should probably admit that I'm just a bit curious, since I'm the only one who hasn't met Amber yet."

"Well, come in, both of you," Pyrrha said, retreating to let them in. "Amber, this is our friend Blake."

"Blake Belladonna," Blake said, as she shut the door behind her. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Pleased to meet you," Amber said politely. "Both of you. I mean, we didn't really meet down … down there, did we?"

"I suppose not," Ciel said. She curtsied. "Ciel Soleil, at your service. Now, I understand you would like some assistance making up your face."

"Apart from anything else, neither Sunset or I have the right supplies for Amber's needs," Pyrrha said. "On account of—"

"The relative pallor your complexions, yes, I see," Ciel answered before Pyrrha could finish. She walked closer, past Pyrrha to approach Amber. "I … take it you would like to mitigate these tokens of Cinder Fall's esteem?"

"Can you hide them?" Amber asked. "Completely?"

"'Completely'?" Ciel repeated. "I know not, but I can certainly try." She opened her bag. "What kind of affect do you usually wear? What kind of look do you aim at?"

"Velvet finish," Amber said. "I should like to glow. If that's still possible."

"Very few things are impossible when an Atlesian puts their mind to it," Ciel declared. "Now, I usually aim for a more natural matte finish, but I believe that we may achieve a glow with the right application of product. Let us start with some foundation." She pulled a round compact out of her back, opening it up with a snap to reveal the brown foundation within. "Hold still; don't move."

Amber assumed a rigid posture, back straight, hands clasped together.

Ciel bent down, almost bent double as she began to apply the foundation layer to Amber's face, obscuring her scars; she did not, could not, hide them completely, at least not yet, but nevertheless, the starkness with which they stood out was greatly reduced, a casual observer from a distance might miss them.

As Ciel worked, Amber's eyes turned their gaze upon Pyrrha once again. "Does Jaune write you love songs?"

"I take it that this is a continuation of your previous conversation, otherwise that would be a little out of nowhere," Blake observed.

Pyrrha chuckled. "Amber caught sight of Jaune's guitar. But the answer is no, he's never written me a song."

"That's a pity," Amber said. "He ought to have."

"Not everyone can write songs, even if they can play them," Ciel observed.

"I know, but it doesn't have to be the best song, so long as it comes from the heart," Amber declared. She kept her gaze on Pyrrha. "Sunset said that Jaune was your boyfriend."

Pyrrha nodded. "That's right, yes."

"And that you love each other," Amber went on, "which Sunset said not all … not all girls and their boyfriends love one another."

"Girlfriend is the feminine," Ciel murmured.

"That is correct," Pyrrha said, speaking to Amber rather than Ciel. "I am very fortunate, and well aware of my good fortune."

"When Sunset says that you love him," Amber said softly, as soft as a breeze that cools the heat of a summer day, "is he your true love?"

"That's a phrase rarely spoken," Blake said.

"What is?" Amber asked.

"True love," Blake explained. "It's a very romantic idea, but … a fanciful one, better suited to stories than to real life. You won't find many takers for it in this day and age."

"Yet you will find one in this room," Pyrrha said. "Jaune may not have fallen in love with me at first sight, but from the moment that I set eyes on him, there was … something about him, if only how bright and blue and how beautiful his eyes were, that drew me to him. And then, as I came to know him better, I saw how much more was in him to love, and thank goodness and the wind and sky and all the old gods of my home he came to see the same in me.

"I am not one to put too much stock in an inescapable fate, but within our choosings … Jaune is my destiny, and I am his, and for my part — and I dearly hope for his part as well — I will love none other than him for all my days. If that is not true love, then I would ask you all, what is?"

Amber smiled, as much as Ciel's work would allow her to. "When Jaune gets back, I'd love to hear all about how the two of you met and fell in love. And then I can ask him why he hasn't written you a love song yet."

Pyrrha laughed. "Jaune doesn't have to do that; he shows his devotion to me in myriad enough other ways already."

"But it's so romantic!" Amber insisted. "I wrote a song for Dove … although he never got to hear it."

Blake frowned slightly. "Dove?"

Amber nodded vigorously.

"Please hold still," Ciel said.

"Sorry," Amber repeated. "Dove is my love. He was my love. He … I don't know where he is, or whether he's still alive, or whether he still … whether he still remembers me. I've … been asleep for a while, haven't I?"

"Yes," Blake murmured. "But I'm surprised you're aware of that."

"I wasn't awake," Amber said softly. "But I was dreaming. I was dreaming for a long time, and while I dreamed … I could feel myself … if it hadn't been for Sunset, I don't think I could have lasted much longer."

"I'm not sure of the exact dates, but I believe it has been about a year that you have slept," Pyrrha said, "but if Dove really is your true love, then he would wait ten years or more and not forget you. Is that not what true love means?"

"Then where is he?" Amber asked. "He said he'd meet me here, when I went away, when Ozpin told me to come to Beacon, when I … when I became the Fall Maiden. He told me that he'd follow and come to Beacon himself, but Sunset said he isn't here."

Sunset, why would you lie to her? Why wouldn't you tell her that there is a Dove in this school, in our very year? It was not certain, admittedly, that Amber's Dove and Dove Bronzewing of Team BLBL were one and the same, and Sunset had been in a position to know more about this Dove than Pyrrha was, having seen into Amber's soul and mind and memories; perhaps it was a completely different person unknown to them.

But the similarities were too great for Pyrrha to dismiss.

"Did Dove … want to become a huntsman?" Pyrrha asked.

"Yes," Amber said, managing not to nod this time. "He was so chivalrous, like a knight out of the old stories; he wanted to help those in need. He was … he was a lot like you, Pyrrha. He had this book, about a brave knight called Olivia who rode around the kingdom fighting monsters and bringing justice. He wanted to be just like her."

That settled it; it was Dove Bronzewing, without a doubt. And Sunset would have known that better than Pyrrha did, yet she had lied about it. No doubt that she had meant well, as Sunset almost always meant well, but all the same…

"You loved him," she whispered.

Amber closed her eyes for a moment. "With all my heart."

And he is here, so close to you, and yet you are both unaware.

The decision was an easy one. The decision required no thought at all on Pyrrha's part. She thought of what Sunset had told her, when the decision to take Amber's soul and magic had been put to her: that Jaune deserved to know about her decision before she made it, deserved to know to what fate she was committing herself. If he had disappeared without trace for a year, or longer, if he had gone away, and they had made plans to reunite, but then, when she came to the appointed spot, he had not been there, then she would want to know what had become of him; more than that, she would give anything to see him again. She hoped that Jaune would feel the same way.

Does he think her dead, like Pylades finding Deianeira's bloody shawl upon the hillside? Does he think that she perished on the way and never reached Beacon? Will she start to believe the same, thinking he is not here?

It was intolerable. It was not to be borne. She could not leave Amber, or Dove for that matter, to languish in ignorance, to wonder without knowing. She could not leave them to be sundered so; the romantic in her would not bear it.

"Blake, Ciel," she said, "will you please stay and watch over Amber for a little while? I need to step outside."

Blake was looking at her, eyes narrowed somewhat; Pyrrha was certain that Blake, too, realised that it was certainly Dove Bronzewing who was Amber's love, who had promised to meet her here and who had kept his promise, little knowing that Amber had been delayed by Cinder's malice.

Blake was not quite such a romantic as Pyrrha was, but she did not attempt to persuade Pyrrha not to do this. She simply gave a brisk nod of the head and said quietly, "Of course. I'll be here when you get back."

Ciel might not be so certain as to who Dove was as the two of them, but she glanced briefly over her shoulder and said, "And I, too."

"Thank you, both of you," Pyrrha said, although in truth, if Ciel had been on her own Pyrrha might not have left her; no offence to Ciel, but Pyrrha did not think that she was a brilliant close-quarters fighter, whereas Blake was very talented in that regard. Amber would be safe in her charge, no doubt, at least for a little while.

"Where are you going?" asked Amber plaintively.

"Oh, I just need to step out for a short while," Pyrrha told her, because would it not be the most wonderful surprise? "I'll be back very soon, I promise."

"Alright," Amber replied. "I'll be here."

Pyrrha smiled at her, then turned away, walking to the door and then walking out into the corridor.

She turned in the direction of Team BLBL's dorm room.

"Pyrrha?"

Pyrrha stopped and twisted her body around to look over her shoulder behind her. Sunset stood there, a slight furrow on her brow, her tail swishing backwards and forwards.

"Sunset," Pyrrha said. "I'm … going to see Dove."

"Ah," Sunset said. "So you've found out then?"

"Yes," Pyrrha replied, a touch of stiffness in her voice. "Amber has not concealed the fact. She has been free with it, and free with the fact that you told her Dove was not to be found."

Sunset reached behind her, scratching her head. "Something I felt was necessary until I'd spoken with Professor Ozpin—"

"Since when do you need to consult with Professor Ozpin before you act?" Pyrrha asked. "Do you not think that Amber has a right to know? You must know better than I how well she loves him—"

"And that is why I counselled Professor Ozpin that they should be allowed to meet," Sunset said, before Pyrrha could go on any further, "and he has accepted the wisdom of my argument."

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. "I … see," she murmured. "You make me feel an ass for misjudging you."

"Don't worry about it," Sunset assured her. "You … I'm surprised you were just going to go and break the news to her without asking anyone's permission."

"I don't need Professor Ozpin's permission to do what is right," Pyrrha said. She then realised abruptly that that could be taken as a knock on Sunset, and so she added, "I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine; it's all fine," Sunset told her, holding her hands up. "I get it. I sort of get it. You two must have hit it off in there while I was gone."

Pyrrha smiled. "She's a very nice girl," she said. "Kind, I think, although she has had little opportunity to do me kindness; nevertheless, she is kindly spoken, polite and gentle in her words. Romantic, as I am, someone who would enjoy fine things if she possessed any. Sweet, and scared, and vulnerable. I would need a harder heart than I possess to be blind or deaf to her plight and not to wish to help her how I can. And since I cannot challenge Cinder to a battle to the death a second time, and so banish her shadow from over Amber … I can at least reunite her with her love." She paused a moment. "You were in her soul; does she love him as much as she seems to?"

Sunset smirked. "Oh, yes, absolutely." She sighed. "Of course, that doesn't answer the question of whether he loves her."

"Can it be doubted?" Pyrrha asked.

"Can it be taken for granted?" asked Sunset in response.

Pyrrha smiled. "Sun, Ren, excellent ladies will always acquire a devoted young man who will not stray." No matter how much provocation they are offered, in Sun's case.

Sunset's eyebrows rose, and a smile played across her lips as she said, "To which list we might add Jaune, no?"

"That would require me to call myself an excellent lady," Pyrrha pointed out, "and I would not wish to be thought too egotistical."

Sunset shook her head. "So, we will put our trust in Dove."

"And our trust in love," Pyrrha added.

"Professor Ozpin fears that a weak reed on which to place his hopes," Sunset murmured.

"And yet, what is love but a form of devotion?" Pyrrha said. "And why are we here, what do we fight for, if not because we are devoted to something, we love something, that drives us on? If love cannot be trusted, then how can any of us possess his faith?"

Sunset glanced away for a moment, not replying, until she said, "Well, as I told you, Professor Ozpin has agreed that Dove should find out the truth."

"I am glad," Pyrrha said. "Although I would have told them anyway, nevertheless … I am glad that he agrees with us. To think that he would choose to keep them apart … I told Amber that he was not a cruel man, and it gladdens my heart that I have not been proven wrong so quickly." She paused. "You went to Professor Ozpin to win this right, so I will return inside and grant you the honour."

"'Honour'?"

"Amber will be delighted, I've no doubt," Pyrrha said.

"Indeed," Sunset murmured. "In truth, I think that is one reason why Professor Ozpin is allowing this. I pointed out to him the consequences if … well, if you had gone to Dove yourself and I had seemed like a liar in her eyes. As it is, she will be grateful … but there is no reason we should not share in her delight."

"Are you sure?"

"I don't desire to hoard it to myself; the more she likes us all, the better," Sunset replied. "And besides, you were going to go and do this thing even without permission; some might say that makes you nobler than I."

"And some might say that you are wiser than myself," Pyrrha countered, "but let us go together then, as swift as fairies girding the surface of the world, and bring these two young lovers to a meeting place."

Sunset chuckled. "I think you relish this prospect, don't you?"

"I do," Pyrrha admitted. "So much so that I would not delay any further. Shall we?"

Sunset surprised Pyrrha somewhat by taking her arm, placing her gloved hand upon Pyrrha's elbow as the two of them began to walk down the corridor.

Sunset glanced up at her. "You don't mind, do you?"

Pyrrha chuckled. "Not at all," she said. "With regards to my enthusiasm, I don't see how anyone could call themselves a romantic and not be moved both to sympathy with Amber — and with Dove, poor Dove, what he must have suffered this past year."

"He did not seem to be suffering too greatly," Sunset pointed out.

"All the more reason to admire him keeping his pain so well concealed," Pyrrha said.

"Is it good to keep pain concealed?" asked Sunset.

"Probably not," Pyrrha conceded. "But one must admire the effort nonetheless. In any event, as I said, as a romantic … how can I not be excited at this? How can I not wish to see them reunited?"

Sunset said nothing; she only chuckled lightly as they went along.

Team BLBL did not reside as close by to the SAPR dorm room as Team YRBN did; in fact, they were slightly further away than Team WWSR, but nevertheless, they were in the same building, and it did not take Pyrrha and Sunset long at all to reach their room and stand in front of their door.

The BLBL door had a lark badge pinned to it, made of silver, a reminder to all visitors of what they had lost and explanation of why they were reduced in number.

Pyrrha knocked upon the door.

The door opened. Bon Bon stood in the doorway, regarding her with a wariness that Pyrrha could not help but feel she did not deserve.

"Pyrrha," Bon Bon said cautiously. "Can I help you…?" — her voice cooled noticeably upon her spotting Sunset — "both of you?"

"Hello," Pyrrha said. "I was wondering if Dove was here?"

"Yes," Dove said, appearing into view behind Bon Bon. "Yes, I'm here. Did you need something?"

"Yes, we'd like you to come with me, back to Team Sapphire's room," Pyrrha said. "Now, if you don't mind."

"Come with you?" Dove repeated. "Why?"

"Just come with us; it's best if you see for yourself," Sunset said. "It'll be worth it, we promise."

Dove hesitated for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. "All right, if you say so."

"Are you sure?" Bon Bon asked.

"Why not?" Dove asked. "It's not like Pyrrha's going to lure me there to pull a prank or something, is it?"

"I … suppose not," Bon Bon murmured, getting out of the way and letting Dove leave the dorm room.

He shut the door behind him. "I'm sorry about that," he said. "Bon Bon is … Sky's death has left her…"

"Yeah," Sunset muttered, thrusting her hands into her jacket pockets. "Yeah, I can imagine."

And I am profoundly grateful that we need do no more than imagine, Pyrrha thought.

"It's been hard on both of them, but on Bon Bon especially," Dove said.

"And you?" asked Pyrrha.

"I…" Dove trailed off. "When I first came to Beacon, I was … a bit of a mess, emotionally. I tried not to burden Yang or Nora or Ren with it too much, I was worried about what they'd think of me, I didn't want to be a bother … Lyra and Bon Bon were there for me. They became my strength. Now it's my turn to be strong for them."

"I see," Pyrrha said. "In any case, please, follow us."

And Dove did follow, obediently and quietly, not asking her what waited for him in the dorm room, merely following as Pyrrha retraced her steps back to Team SAPR's room.

"And here we are," Sunset said.

"So I see," Dove replied. "But I still don't see why."

Pyrrha opened the door for him, and as she did so, she found she could not keep the smile off her face.

"Go inside," she said. "Please."

Dove looked a little confused, but he did go in, just as she had bade him do. He went inside, and there beheld her.

"Amber?" His voice was as quiet as a whisper and as loud as a thunderclap, he spoke with shock, and yet, he shocked also, reducing the room — Blake, Ciel, and Amber of course — to silence.

"Dove!" Amber cried, leaping to her feet.

Ciel dropped her makeup, and she and Blake retreated out of the way, leaving a clear path between Dove and Amber.

A path which neither of them took. Rather they stood, Dove in the doorway, Amber by the bed, staring at one another with eyes wide in awed amazement.

"Dove," Amber said, her voice trembling. "It … it's you."

"It is," Dove said, a smile spreading across his face, delight shining in his eyes of blue. "It is, it's me, Amber, I—" He took a step towards her.

Amber let out a little shriek as she turned away from him, covering her face with both hands. "No! Come no closer!" she cried, her voice muffled somewhat by her hands. "You … you must not look on me. I … I am not as I was."

Dove stopped, his hands which had raised up to take her in his arms now falling back to his sides again. "Amber. I came, just as I promised I would. I've been here for a year."

Amber's only reply was a sort of sobbing sound.

"I looked for you," Dove said. "I looked for you at the school, and in Vale. I … learned nothing. Amber … where have you been?"

She did not reply.

Dove walked towards her, reaching out to her. He placed his hands upon her shoulders. "Amber, please look at me. Look at me, and let me look on you."

"No," Amber replied. "This is not the face that you have dreamt of."

Dove spun her around on her toes, softly and slowly but inexorably nonetheless, turning her in his direction. He did not speak, nor did anyone else. There was silence in the room — Pyrrha did not even dare to shut the door and so disturb the mood — as Dove took Amber by the arms and slowly pulled them away from her face.

Amber gasped and kept her head bowed, her bobbed hair falling down somewhat to shield it from view.

Dove tilted her chin, so that he looked at him and he could see her; Ciel had done what she could in the time that Pyrrha had given her, but nevertheless, the scars that Cinder had given her were plain to see — or at least, they would be plain for Dove to see, so close to her.

His voice, when it came, was a hoarse whisper, husky; Pyrrha had to strain to hear it. "You are as beautiful as a moonlit night."

"'Beautiful'?" Amber repeated. "I have been … marked."

"So is the moon," Dove said, "but it is still beautiful, though not as beautiful as you." He stroked her face, cupping her cheek with one hand as he smiled down at her. "And besides, you worry so much, you fear to let me see a face that I have seen before so many times."

"You have?" Amber gasped. "How? When?"

Dove's smile broadened and brightened. "Once upon a dream."

Amber let out a ragged sound, a squealing gasp of delight that might have contained an exclamation of Dove's name within it as she melted into his arms.

They kissed. Pyrrha barely heard the door shut after her — Sunset must have closed it with her telekinesis — because her attention was so held by the kiss, by the way that Dove held her face in his hands, by the way that Amber threw her arms around his shoulders, by the way that she did not have to rise up on her toes to reach his mouth because the two of them fit as though they had been made for one another. The way his hands moved from her face down her body, pulling her in tight, so tight it was as though he meant to never let her go again.

Pyrrha's hands clasped together above her heart. I do believe I have done well this day.

They broke apart, if only barely; Dove's cheeks were flushed, and both he and Amber were breathless. He looked at Pyrrha; they both looked at Pyrrha.

"I stand amazed," Dove declared. "How is this possible? Surely this is a miracle? To what god should I give thanks, before the thanks that are justly due to you?"

Pyrrha laughed. "A miracle indeed, though from other powers than those of heaven sent." She paused. "All … all that you need know will be revealed to you, of how this was done and what and why, in time." That left some latitude in what precisely to tell him, but surely, he would have to be told something; he would not be satisfied else. "But for now, rejoice, be merry, hold each other close, for you are … you are together once again. Let that be enough."

"Thank you, Pyrrha, and you, Sunset," Amber said. "This is … it's just like a dream! How could I ever, why … thank you, so much."

Sunset bowed with an elaborate flourish of her arms.

Pyrrha curtsied, placing one hand above her heart. "You're very welcome."

"Let it be enough," Dove murmured. He looked at Amber once again. "Yes. Yes, it is more than enough."

As they kissed again, Pyrrha knew that they had done very well this day.

And whatever befell in consequence, they would not regret it.

XxXxX​

Author's Note: The picture of Pyrrha and Amber was done by McMystery, who also did that very nice Arkos picture a few chapters ago.,

 

[ScipioSmith]

An Autumn's Tale

​

Dove and Amber were stood close together, bodies pressed up against one another; Dove's hands were upon her arms, just below her shoulders; Amber's arms were up, snaking around his shoulders to join her hands together behind his neck; Dove's forehead was bowed low enough that it was touching Amber's forehead as the two of them stared into one another's eyes.

It was all rather dreamy to watch.

Or at least Pyrrha thought so as she did, indeed, watch the two of them. She watched as they stood there, looking only at one another, the rest of the world fallen away from them. There were four other people in the room, all with their eyes fixed on Dove and Amber, but for the two of them, none of that mattered. Sunset, Pyrrha, Ciel, Blake; Beacon, Vale, Remnant, Cinder, Maidens, and magic, none of that mattered in this place and in this moment, because here … they were in a world where only two people existed, and each of them was looking at the other.

Amber's scars didn't matter either; they hadn't mattered to her since Dove had confirmed they did not matter to him, and they didn't matter to Dove because … because he was in love, and so it was Amber's true self that he beheld, not what Cinder had made of her face.

Pyrrha smiled to look at them. It … it made her happy to see them happy, if that was not too childish a sentiment to put into words.

Her fears on that score were alleviated by how happy Sunset looked, as Pyrrha noted when she briefly glanced at her friend. Sunset was watching the two of them also, her arms folded as she leaned with one shoulder against the dorm room wall. Her tail swished back and forth behind her as though she were trying to sweep the floor with it, and sometimes, the end of her tail would curl up on itself for a moment as though it were leaping.

Sunset's smile was not wide, but it was bright, one of the brightest that Pyrrha had seen on Sunset for some little time.

Pyrrha thought she understood why this affected them both so, quite apart from the fact that they were both romantics — a fact which Pyrrha felt she might be more willing to admit than Sunset herself — the world was so complex, so messy, and the victories that they might win in the world were partial, incomplete. They were pitted against an enemy they could not defeat, only prevent from winning, and their more immediate, more human enemies often proved themselves to be less easily hated and dismissed than one might wish were the case.

But this? This was something unambiguous. This was a good thing with no downsides, no buts, no costs to mar it, nothing to fret over or regret. This was a good thing, a joyous thing for Amber and for Dove, something that you could simply look at and say 'this is wonderful' without reservation.

They were smiling, they were vicariously happy, because this was something that they could be happy about, and that was something a little too rare in their lives.

Right here and now, love had conquered all, and that was something that they were allowed to be pleased with.

Sunset didn't look at Pyrrha, at least not that Pyrrha noticed, but she did hold out one fist in Pyrrha's direction.

Pyrrha bumped it with her own fist. "Hoof bump," she whispered.

Blake glanced at them but said nothing.

Amber and Dove didn't appear to notice.

The door into the dorm room opened, and Jaune and Ruby walked in together. Jaune had his arms wrapped around two large paper bags, each so large and so bulging that, together, they practically obscured his face from view, which was perhaps why Ruby, who was bearing a single and much smaller and lighter looking bag, was the one who opened the door for him.

"Hey guys," Ruby said. "I met Jaune leaving to get food, and he asked me to help him carry some stuff; the cafeteria wasn't open so we went to tha—aah! Dove!?"

Jaune jumped at the sound of Ruby's voice becoming louder and higher in pitch; a tomato fell out of one of his brown paper bags, although Sunset caught it telekinetically before it hit the ground.

"Dove?" Jaune said, trying to see. "What's happening?"

"Let me help you with those," Pyrrha said, taking a step towards him and relieving him of one of his bags of burden. "Welcome back," she added as his face came into view, the smile still set upon her face as she leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek.

Jaune chuckled. "Uh, nice to see you again too, but what is—?"

Dove and Amber's attention had finally been drawn away from one another and towards the new arrivals in the dorm room.

"Hey, Ruby, Jaune," Dove said. "I was wondering where you were. Well, no, I admit I wasn't actually wondering that, but I probably would have at some point. Nice to see you again."

"How…?" Ruby began. "How are you… what are you… and Amber—?"

"Ruby, Jaune, you know Dove; he's our fellow student, but he is also Amber's boyfriend," Sunset said, gesturing at Dove with one gloved hand. "Hi, Dove, you know us; we're Team Sapphire, but we're also secret agents."

There was a moment of silence, broken only by the rustling of brown paper as Jaune and Pyrrha put down the large bags of groceries.

"I … think I'd like that promised explanation now," Dove said, glancing from Amber to the other students in the room. "If that's all right with everyone."

"I should leave you to get on with things," Ciel said, moving to pack up her makeup bag. "I am certain you can provide all the necessary details without my assistance. Amber, call on me any time if you require my help."

"You don't have to go," Amber said. "I mean, not if you don't want to."

"I should inform my teammates so that they are not as surprised as Ruby and Jaune by Dove's presence," Ciel said, "and besides, one would not wish the room to become too crowded. Blake, are you coming?"

Blake hesitated for a moment, before she said, "I … sure, I'll come with you. It was nice to meet you, Amber."

"It was nice to meet you too, Blake," Amber said softly.

Ciel strode towards the door, Blake following behind her. The members of Team SAPR made way for them, and Ciel opened the door and stepped through it, pausing in the doorway.

She turned back, looking beyond Blake to Dove. "Mister Bronzewing?"

"Yes?" Dove asked, a little uncertainly.

The corner of Ciel's lip turned upwards. "Congratulations," she said. "Make the most of your good fortune."

Dove put one hand around Amber's waist. "I intend to, believe me."

Ciel nodded and turned away again, walking out of the room without another word. Blake followed and closed the door behind her.

Once more, a silence fell in the dorm room.

"So," Dove said, to break said silence, "where … I don't know where to start, so I'm going to have to trust you on this."

"Why don't we all sit down first?" Sunset suggested. "You might feel like sitting down anyway by the time we're done, so make yourself comfortable."

Dove and Amber sat down on Sunset's bed, side by side. Amber picked up Sunset's stuffed unicorn and put it down in her lap, running the fingers of one hand over the plush coat.

Dove smiled at her — and it. "Another new friend you've made since I met you last?"

Amber chuckled. "Sunset gave it to me."

Pyrrha glanced at Sunset, eyebrows rising slightly beneath her circlet.

Sunset shrugged gently as she sat down on her own bed next to Dove and Amber, facing the two of them, one leg turned sideways and resting on the bed, crumpling the duvet beneath her.

Pyrrha, Jaune, and Ruby sat down on Jaune's bed, facing Amber and Dove — and Sunset too.

"You always loved your stuffed animals," Dove said softly, reaching out for Amber's wrists. "I've still got Bramwell Brown. I brought it with me; I … I was going to give it to you."

Amber frowned. "Bramwell who?"

"Bramwell Brown," Dove repeated. "You know, the bear, the brown bear that I had when I was a kid. My mom kept him, and … when you came to my house, you seemed to really like him. I offered him to you, but you said that your mother would find out about us if he showed up, so…

"I … I met your mother?" Amber asked. "I don't remember that."

Dove frowned. "You … don't remember. But she loved you! She kicked me out of the house and spent three hours talking to you; I went out to chop some wood and when I came back, you'd made apple pie together and were setting the world to rights over tea and homemade scones."

Sunset cleared her throat. "Amber … Amber has been through a lot, and … some of what she's been through may have caused her to lose … some of her memories."

Dove looked at Sunset, but although he turned his body somewhat to do so, he did not relinquish his grip on Amber; rather, he seemed to hold her tighter than before as if he feared that she might slip from his grasp again.

"What's going on?" he demanded, and it was a demand for all that it was softly spoken; it was clear that only a full explanation would satisfy him.

"I…" Amber began, taking a pause and a deep breath almost ere she began. "I am…" Her breathing was coming deeper now, her bosom heaving. "I am…" She was gasping for breath, a wheezing tone entering her voice, a raggedness.

"Amber, stop," Sunset and Pyrrha said together, or near enough. It was clear that she was not up to the burden of this.

"Stop," Sunset repeated. "It's alright. We can tell the story."

Amber blinked rapidly. There were tears forming in her eyes. She tried to speak, but seemed to lack the breath for it. As Dove put one arm around her shoulders, she leaned into him, laying her head upon his chest, clinging to him.

"It's alright," he murmured. "It's alright, you're safe."

Amber opened her eyes, her wet and tear-filled eyes, and glanced at Pyrrha.

Pyrrha nodded and smiled encouragingly. "Dove," she said, "what is your favourite fairytale?"

Dove frowned. "My favourite—"

"Come, Pyrrha, let us not trespass upon Dove's patience further," Sunset said. And yet, having said so, she took pause a moment, gathering up her thoughts. "Amber is … Amber is what is called the Fall Maiden. What that means is that she has magic at her command."

Dove's blue eyes widened and his eyebrows rose. "'Magic'?" he repeated. "You … magic? As in … as in…"

"As in magic," Sunset said. "As in power, as in no dust necessary nor expenditure of aura neither."

"You're joking," Dove said.

"Do you think so little of us that you think we would jest in such circumstances as these?" Pyrrha asked. "With Amber in such a state as this?"

"Well, no, I don't, and I meant no offence, but—"

"Amber is here, is she not?" Sunset asked. "And that is not a joke."

Dove hesitated. "But … there's no such thing as magic."

"That is what you are supposed to believe," Sunset murmured.

"You know the Story of the Seasons, yes?" Pyrrha asked. "That is why I asked about fairytales. You must know the story."

Dove nodded. "I do."

"Except it's not a story," said Jaune.

Dove swallowed. "In … in what way?"

"Untold years ago," Pyrrha said, "an old man really did bestow upon four worthy sisters immense power, the power to … to protect themselves and others, the power to inspire and awe, the power to change the world. And then he bid the four sisters go out and share their gifts with all of Remnant. Four maidens: Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall. That power, bestowed upon the worthy, has been passed down through the generations between then and now, and Amber stands in that line the latest to hold the power and bear the honour of being the Fall Maiden."

Dove frowned. He looked at Amber, away from all the others. With the hand that held her, he stroked her arm down from her shoulder. "The Fall Maiden," he murmured. "For … since when?"

That was a question that only Amber could really answer, and so, the others held their peace and waited to see if she would be able to answer it.

When her voice came, it was almost a sob. "Since my mother died," she whispered. "She passed the powers onto me."

"And that was why you had to go," Dove murmured. "You had to go to Beacon, had to come here because … that was why, wasn't it?"

Amber nodded silently.

"But … why didn't you tell me?" Dove asked. "You didn't say anything; even as you were leaving, you told me you were going to stay with your uncle."

Amber made a sort of whimpering noise and pressed even closer to Dove as though she were trying to burrow into him for warmth or protection.

"You remember how I just said that you weren't supposed to know that magic existed?" Sunset asked.

"Nobody is supposed to know, or as few as possible," Ruby added. "About the Maidens, magic, any of it."

"But why?" Dove asked. "You just said that the powers were given originally so that those four sisters, those Maidens, could inspire the people of Remnant, so—"

"Because there are people who would use those powers for evil," Ruby said. "People who would kill to get them, and they have. Keeping everything a secret is for the good of everyone."

"And for Amber's protection," Sunset murmured.

Dove let out a small gasp. "The scars…"

"Amber was attacked," Sunset went on. "Sometime before the school year began. She's been … in a coma ever since. She just woke up today."

Pyrrha noted that Sunset didn't mention that Amber had had some of her magic — and her aura besides — stolen by her attacker; honestly, she could hardly blame Sunset for her reticence; not only was this already a lot to drop on an unsuspecting Dove, but at the same time … what if he became nervous of what he heard? What if he thought that Amber was broken somehow? Yes, he loved her, as dear and true as she loved him, but nevertheless, they were talking about aura and souls; he might not take the news well.

To rob Amber of her comfort and support was the last thing any of them wanted.

"Sunset saved me," Amber whispered. "She woke me up."

Dove looked at her. "Truly?"

Sunset shrugged, as though the part she had played had been of no consequence, an incidental role only.

"Thank you," Dove said. "I have more to thank you for than merely bringing us together. Or rather, I have you to thank for bringing us together in every sense. Although I … how?"

"Leave that for now," Sunset urged. "It's not important. Suffice to say that that's why you couldn't find her. It wasn't that she didn't come here, it wasn't that she abandoned you, she has been asleep all this time, under the care of Professor Ozpin—"

"Professor Ozpin!" Dove repeated. "But I asked Professor Ozpin about Amber! After the first two weeks of looking, I went to him and asked about her, and he told me that he didn't know anything about her!"

Oh dear, Pyrrha thought. Professor, did you really have to be so cold? Could you not have told him something?

She understood that Professor Ozpin had wanted to keep Amber's location a secret in case Cinder came back for another attempt on Amber's life — something she might well have attempted before her cover was blown; if she had known that Amber was beneath the tower, would she not have headed down to the vault on the night of the dance instead of up to meddle with the computers? — but could he not have said something? Since it seemed that he had given up Amber for dead — or at least, he had become resolved to kill her body, if not her soul — then could he not have told Dove that she had died? It would have been hard news, no doubt, and heartbreaking, but better that than to leave him wondering, mired in ignorance, torn between hope and despair.

Professor Ozpin — whatever his wisdom, his virtues, or the nobility of his intentions — had not covered himself in glory during this business, at least not in Pyrrha's eyes.

"He's a liar," Amber said, her voice soft but sharp at the same time, and filled with anger.

"Now, hang on—" began Sunset.

"He lies, Sunset!" Amber insisted. "He lies all the time, he lied to Dove, you heard!" She sat up a little straighter, pulling away from Dove's chest a little to look at Sunset better. "He didn't tell Dove where I was, he pretended that he didn't know, he did know! He forced these powers on me, he made me this! He made me hunted. I hate him."

"I don't feel so well disposed to him myself," Dove muttered.

"It sounds harsh, I know," Sunset said.

"It may sound harsh because it is," Pyrrha murmured.

Sunset looked at her.

Pyrrha held out her hands. "This … is hard to defend, Sunset; I am surprised that you would try to defend it."

Sunset ran one hand through her fiery hair. "I…"

"If Cinder had known where Amber was—" Ruby began.

"'Cinder'?" Dove repeated. "The girl who fled? Your—"

"Yes," Sunset said quickly, before Dove could reveal that she and Cinder had been friends. "Yes, the girl who fled. She is the one who attacked Amber, and as Ruby says, if she'd known where Amber was—"

"She would have tried again," Ruby said. "I understand why you don't like it, but there are good reasons for not telling people about this, even people who might think they have a right to know."

"But you know," Dove pointed out. "The four of you, why is that? Who are you?"

"We are Professor Ozpin's servants," Sunset said. "Though it might not seem that way from the attitudes of some."

"I make no apologies in this, Sunset," Pyrrha replied. "There were other ways, things that Professor Ozpin could have said, other than he did."

"I … I do not excuse," Sunset murmured. "But…" She paused. "Anyway, the point is that we are trusted by Professor Ozpin to know some of his secrets and do some of his business—"

"Like going to Mountain Glenn," Dove said.

Sunset closed her eyes. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, that was … Sky is dead because we failed."

"Who is Sky?" asked Amber.

"A friend," Dove said. "What secrets? What secrets does Ozpin have, that he needs to trust you with some of them?"

For a moment, none of them said anything.

"The Maidens," Sunset said. "And the need to protect them."

Now was the moment at which things could go badly wrong. Amber, of course, knew that there was much, much more to it than that, and she might choose to reveal that to Dove. She might question why Sunset wasn't revealing more than that to Dove, and if she did … things could go badly wrong.

But Amber said nothing. She did not dispute what Sunset had just said.

"I … see," Dove said. "But then why attack Vale, why the Breach?"

"Everyone who wants power wants to do something with it," Jaune said. "Even if that something is just causing destruction and devastation."

"Mmm," Dove murmured. "And so … you fight to prevent that, too?"

"We are huntsmen," Ruby said. "It's kind of the point, don't you think?"

"Yes," Dove admitted. "Yes, you're right." He paused a moment. "So Amber … Amber isn't safe?"

"Not yet, unfortunately," Pyrrha said. "We will protect her, of course, but … I think there will have to be precautions taken."

"Professor Ozpin will set them out tomorrow," Sunset said. "You … perhaps you should come with us, to speak to him."

"Yes," Amber said. "Yes, you should come. I want you there. I want you to stay with me."

"I will be there," Dove said, in a voice that was almost a growl. "There is a lot I want to say to Professor Ozpin." His jaw tightened for a moment, before he looked down at Amber, the sight of her seeming visibly to soften him, to gentle him. Certainly, his voice became gentle once more as he said, "Where are you staying?"

"Here," Amber replied. "Sunset has let me have her bed."

"If anyone asks, Amber is Professor Ozpin's niece," Sunset said, "staying with us as a favour to him while her affairs are straightened out with her uncle's help."

Dove's brow furrowed. "Couldn't she stay with me? There is a spare bed in my room—"

"Perhaps you should talk to your teammates before you offer up Sky's bed," Jaune pointed out.

Dove winced. "You make a good point, but still, I'm sure that they would not refuse; they've both heard all about Amber — although not as much as there is to tell — and I'm sure that they'd … can I tell them? About … about what you are, about what you … is it what you have, what you can do?"

"What I am," Amber murmured. "It is a part of me, whether I wish it or not."

"It depends," Ruby said. "Professor Ozpin will decide what you can tell to who, but … probably not. It is supposed to be a secret, after all."

"In any case," Sunset added, "it wouldn't be a good idea for Amber to stay with you and Team Bluebell, spare bed or no."

"Why not?" Dove demanded.

"Because…" Sunset hesitated for a moment. "Well, leaving aside the fact that it's easier for Amber to room with a full team of people who know her secret, there's also the fact that…" She licked her lips. "Lyra and Bon Bon…" She squirmed on the bed and looked at Pyrrha for help.

Pyrrha, who was equally at a loss for a way to put the relative weakness of Team BLBL without giving offence or seeming unduly proud of their own prowess, said nothing.

"Lyra," Sunset repeated, "and Bon Bon—"

"Aren't good enough?" Dove asked. "Is that what you're dancing around saying?"

Sunset exhaled loudly. "They lack skill somewhat, yes, especially by comparison."

"I can protect Amber," Dove declared. "She'll be safe enough with me, regardless of who else is with us."

"You don't know that," Sunset replied. "You only just found out about all of this moments ago; you have no idea—"

"Sunset," Jaune said, before she could work up a head of steam. "Calm down, Dove was just…" He leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees as she shuffled his bottom towards the edge of the bed, so that he was perched almost precariously upon the edge of it, the mattress buckling beneath him, creating a depression that made Pyrrha and Ruby lean in a little.

Leaned forwards as he was, Jaune was very close to Dove — and Amber too, but Dove especially.

Jaune clasped his hands together. "Listen," he said. "Dove, I get it. You grew up in a small village right? Out in the country kind of place?"

Dove looked at him as though Jaune's point was in the woods some way ahead of him, and he could not quite make it out through all the trees. "That's right," he said carefully, cautiously, quietly. "That's how Amber and I met."

Jaune nodded, smiling slightly. "Me too," he said. "So like I said, I get it. I really get it. You love Amber, you want to protect her, but you also know what's expected of a guy right now. You've always known that." He paused. "But what matters is Amber, not how it makes you feel or what your father or your grandpa or the guys at the bar back home would think. Amber, and keeping her safe, that's all that matters, and I know that you get that, because you love her, right?" He smiled encouragingly. "This is for the best, at least for now."

Dove did not reply for a moment or two, staring at Jaune without speaking. He looked at Amber. "Amber…"

"I … I want to stay here, with Sunset and Pyrrha," Amber said softly. "I … I feel safe with them."

Dove looked hurt by that, a pained look passing across his face. Amber must have noted it as plainly as Pyrrha did, for she went on quickly to say, "But I will see you every day! Every single day." She reached up and, with one hand, stroked his round face. "From when the lark sings in the morning to when the nightingale sings at night, I'll be with you."

Dove put his arms around her. "I just found you again," he said. "I don't want to let you go so soon."

Amber leaned forwards to kiss him. "And you will find me," she said. "I will never go where you can't find me."

"The … the danger is so great, then?" Dove asked.

"I fear so, yes," Pyrrha murmured.

"But … but Amber has magic!" Dove cried. "Amber has magic, you say, possessed of ancient powers passed down to her. What has she to fear?"

"Too much," Pyrrha said quietly. "It is not fair, but it is so; magic does not make Amber invincible. It never has." Such is our hope, but such is Amber's curse and fear also.

"All right," Dove said, closing his eyes a moment. "Alright. Amber will stay with you. She will stay with you and be protected."

XxXxX​

Jaune found Dove that evening in the courtyard, standing in front of the statue of the huntsman and huntress.

Night had fallen. Darkness blanketed the school, and the lights of the Emerald Tower burned in the darkness, the main light aside from the moon.

The lights of Ozpin at the top of his tower, looking down on the rest of them, plotting and scheming.

Okay, maybe that was just a little harsh, but after what he'd done — or at least after what he'd been willing to do — to Pyrrha, Jaune found that he wasn't prepared to cut the headmaster much slack.

Certainly, he wasn't as inclined to be as forgiving as Sunset; it surprised him that she didn't hold much of a grudge against him for everything that had happened; he wouldn't have expected her to get over it so easily; she cared as much about Pyrrha as he did, but… but she'd found something that encouraged her to not take Ozpin's side, but to be charitable towards him.

Jaune couldn't do likewise. When he looked up at the tower now, when he looked at those lights burning in the darkness, when he thought about what it meant, who was up there, it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Some choices just shouldn't be made, even in a hard place.

Jaune looked away from the tower and turned his thoughts away just as much as his eyes, focusing his attention on Dove where he stood before the statue, looking up at the huntsman who stood so heroically, sword raised up into the air.

The little shrine for Sky was still there too; someone had just laid fresh flowers there by the looks of it, but Dove's attention wasn't on the flowers, or on the picture of his teammate, but on the statue itself, on the heroic figure who dominated the courtyard, who stood over the beowolf, who cast his gaze across the school.

Dove's back was straight, and his head was raised up to look at the statue that loomed over him, but Jaune thought that he noticed a slight slump in the other boy's shoulders, a posture that he knew well himself.

"It's a lot to take in, huh?" Jaune asked, as he came up behind Dove to stand by his side.

Dove sighed. "Yeah, yeah, you could say that. Is it that obvious?"

"It's … a little obvious," Jaune replied. "But especially to me, since I come out here to think too. Or at least, when I come out to think, I sometimes end up here."

Dove nodded. "There's something about it that … draws you, doesn't it?"

"I guess that's the point," Jaune murmured. "Wouldn't be much of a statue if it didn't."

Dove snorted. "True," he acknowledged, "but I meant more—"

"Yeah, I know what you meant," Jaune said. "It does have a certain … something. If he was alive, you'd call it charisma I guess, magnetism. He makes you want to look up at him, and not just because he's tall." He paused. "I hope you don't mind the company, by the way; it's just … I know it's a lot to process by yourself."

"How long?" Dove asked. "How long have you known all this?"

"Not that long," Jaune said. "Just … since just before we went to Mountain Glenn."

"Ozpin … what?" asked Dove. "He called you up to his office and told you that magic was real?"

"Told Sunset and Pyrrha that he needed someone to fight his battles," Jaune said. "Then they told us."

"Sunset and Pyrrha," Dove murmured. "Yeah, that makes sense."

Jaune chuckled softly. He looked down at his feet, scuffing his toes on the stone of the courtyard for a second, then looked back up at the statue, the black stone huntsman cast in a green glow by the light from the tower above.

"You know, it's kind of funny," he said, "or … ironic, maybe; if that statue was true to the reality around here, it would be the huntress standing up there on the rock with her sword up."

Dove did not laugh, nor did he smile. "I guess … I guess you're right about that." He paused for a moment. "Jaune … what's it like?"

Jaune furrowed his brow. "What's what like? I'm afraid you'll have to be a little more specific."

"What's it like, not being the hero?" asked Dove. "What's it like, not being able to be the hero, even though you want to be." He turned away from the statue, turning to face Jaune head on. "All I want is to protect Amber, to be her hero even if I can't be anyone else's; I'm not sure that I'd even want to be anyone else's hero anymore; Amber is the only … I want to protect her. I want to be able to protect her, I want to be her knight, but … but I can't, can I? I'm not strong enough."

"Not on your own, no," admitted Jaune softly.

"Just like you're not strong enough."

"Not on my own."

"How do you stand it?" demanded Dove. "How is it that that doesn't eat you up from the inside out? What do you do with … what do you do?"

"I do what I can," Jaune replied. "I do the best I can. I … like you said, I'm not the hero. I know that, and I've had long enough, I've been through enough to make my peace with it. Yeah, when I came here, I wanted to be the guy with the sword standing on top of the rock, everyone looking up at me, but … why? What would have been the point of it, what would I have gotten out of it? Would it have made me happy? No, probably not; certainly not the way that she makes me happy. Just seeing her smile, the way her eyes light up, it … it brings me more joy in my heart than hearing a hundred people cheer out my name ever could. You know what I'm talking about, don't you?"

Dove smiled bashfully. He clasped his hands behind his back as it was his turn to look down at the ground for a second. "Yeah. Yeah, I know exactly what you're talking about."

Jaune grinned. He nodded. "I can't save the world. I can't be the hero, I can't win the battle single-handedly … but maybe, when the battle hangs in the balance, then perhaps I can tip the scale. I can't be anyone's shield or protector, but maybe, because I'm there, standing with them, with her, maybe … maybe I can still make the difference whether they win or lose, live or die. And that's okay with me, that's enough for me … because they're the ones who matter. She's the one who matters.

"Just because you can't protect her all by yourself doesn't mean that she doesn't need you, or want you, what's more. Just being there for her, doing what you can, that's all you can do, and that … that's enough.

"And if the only reward is to see her smile, to hold her in your arms, to … to feel her lips against yours … then that's enough too." Jaune paused a second. "Because we're both really lucky guys. You know that, right?"

"Of course I know it," Dove said quickly. "I'm well aware, believe me." He hesitated. "It's really that easy?"

Jaune shrugged. "If you let it be. It's only a problem if you make it one."

Dove frowned. "If she were hurt—"

"If Pyrrha got hurt, then yes, I would probably have a hard time living up to these words," Jaune admitted. "I'd blame myself, hate myself, beat myself up for being too weak, but … but if we work together, that won't happen. And it won't happen to Amber either, because it's not just you who's going to protect her."

"I know," Dove murmured. "But I just wish—"

"I know," Jaune responded. "And that's why we keep trying, keep training. But in the meantime, we do what we can. That's all we can do. That, and remember that—"

"That they're the ones who matter," Dove said.

"Exactly."

Dove glanced away for a second. "You know … for a while this year, I was … kind of jealous of you. Not in the way that everyone else was jealous of you, but … I was jealous of the fact that you had … you reminded me of what I used to have."

"And now you have it again," Jaune pointed out.

"Yes," Dove replied. "Yes, I certainly do." He scratched the back of his head with one hand. "Who knew that miracles could happen, huh? After a year of wondering and looking and not knowing to just walk into a room, and there she is. Who'd believe it?"

"At this point, I'd believe a lot," Jaune said.

"Really? It gets like that, huh?"

"You have to admit, it's a lot to take in," Jaune replied. And you don't know the half of it.

Dove nodded. "That's true. It's … it is … I don't know how to describe what it is, mostly because all I can think is that I wish Amber didn't have these powers. Does that make me a terrible person?"

"No," Jaune said. "Not at all. If … if she wasn't the Fall Maiden—"

"Then she wouldn't have been attacked," Dove murmured. "Do you mind if I say that I really wish Pyrrha had been able to finish the job against Cinder?"

Jaune laughed nervously. "You're not the only one," he admitted. He slipped his hands into his pockets. "I know it's a lot, and if you ever want to talk about it, I'm here, but I'm also here to say … don't worry about it too much. Just focus on the small stuff, focus on Amber, because I can almost guarantee that she doesn't care what you think about her being a Maiden; she just wants you to be there for her right now."

Dove turned away from the statue, looking up at the dorm rooms that rose up behind them, at the dark windows and the windows that were illuminated with light.

At the window of Team SAPR's dorm room, where Amber stood at the window, one arm raised and pressed against the glass.

Dove raised his hand and waved to her.

Jaune grinned. "Yeah," he said. "We are lucky guys, aren't we?"

Dove glanced at him, a smile of his own on his face. "The luckiest guys in the world."

XxXxX​

Author's Note: There will be no new chapters out next week as I have work to do ahead of an upcoming job interview that is going to cut into my writing time, where it doesn't eliminate it altogether.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Dispensations

​

"You're back late," Bon Bon observed as Dove slipped back into the BLBL dorm room.

"Not that late," Dove replied, a smile on his face to match the lightness of his tone. "I haven't kept you up; it's not like you'd have gone to bed by now or anything."

"No," Bon Bon admitted. "But still, you were longer than we thought you'd be. We didn't expect Pyrrha and Sunset to detain you that long."

"Pyrrha and Sunset didn't detain me," Dove said quietly.

"Oh," Bon Bon said mildly. "All right then."

Silence fell in the dorm room. Lyra was sprawled across Bon Bon's bed on her belly, booted feet raised up in the air, kicking slowly back and forth; her head was raised to look at Dove while a magazine sat open in front of her.

Bon Bon, banished from her own bed by Lyra's presence, was sat on the floor at the foot of said bed, one of her gauntlets sat in lap. In one hand, she held a cloth rag, while a bottle of polish sat on the floor beside her.

Both Lyra and Bon Bon looked at Dove, who did not quite look at them.

"This would be your cue to tell us where you've been," Lyra pointed out.

"Out," Dove said.

Lyra rolled her eyes. "Out where?"

Dove walked across the dorm room to his bed, humming under his breath. "I didn't realise that I had to tell you everywhere that I go or everything I do."

"Well, tough, you do," Lyra said, a grin spreading across her face. "Sorry, I don't make the rules."

Dove chuckled.

"Don't laugh, I'm serious!" Lyra cried. She reached down onto the floor — on the other side of the bed to where Bon Bon sat — and lifted up a rustling box of Dewberry's Favourites, a collection of miniature bite-sized bars of the best-selling chocolates made in Vale by the confectioner Dewberry's … and the coconut one that nobody liked but which seemed to find its way there anyway.

"Do you want one?" she asked, shaking the box.

Dove hesitated. "All right, I'll—"

"Well, too bad; you're not getting until you tell us where you've been," Lyra said, putting the box down.

Now it was Dove's turn to roll his eyes. "Fine. I'm not that hungry anyway."

"You might not have to tell us where you were," Bon Bon said, getting up off the floor to look at him over Lyra.

"Yes, he does!"

Bon Bon ignored her to carry on, "But you do realise how suspicious it is that you won't say where you've been, right?" She sniffed at the air, her nose pricking at the smell that had wafted into the room with Dove. "And what is that smell?"

Dove froze; the humming beneath his breath died a swift end. "What smell? I don't know what you mean?"

"I mean the smell, the smell that you brought in here, the smell that's on you, the smell that was not here a second ago, what is that smell?" Bon Bon demanded.

She sniffed some more. It wasn't a bad smell, by any means; it was noticeable, but having noticed it, she couldn't deny that it was kind of nice. Fruity, maybe? A little bit, with something else in there; she couldn't quite say what it was, but it felt familiar to her. She'd smelled this somewhere before, but—

Lyra's eyes widened. "It's Pyrrha!"

"What?" Bon Bon snapped.

"What?" Dove yelped.

"The smell!" Lyra cried. "It's Pyrrha's hair. Or it could be her perfume, but I don't think she wears perfume, because it's not that strong, and also, it's the same scent all the time, and also wearing perfume everywhere even to class would be kind of a lot." Her voice had dropped as she reached the end of her ramble of reasons, but now it revived in volume as she carried on. "The point is that I'm ninety percent sure that it's scented hair care products, especially since the smell is strongest coming from her hair, but the point is that that smell, the smell that is on you, Dove, is definitely Pyrrha's smell." Lyra somewhat laboriously rolled over onto her back and then sat up on Bon Bon's bed. "So, Dove Bronzewing, what do you have to say for yourself?"

Dove had frozen. He didn't speak, he didn't even move, he was just … frozen. He stood there still, petrified.

Bon Bon thought that he'd gone a little pale as well.

She folded her arms. "Something that you want to tell us, Dove?"

Dove didn't look at either of them. "What do you mean?"

"We mean," Lyra said, "are you and Pyrrha … you know…?"

"Know what?"

Bon Bon was beginning to suspect that Dove was being deliberately disingenuous. "Are you having an affair?"

Lyra looked up at Bon Bon. "Seriously?"

"What?"

"'An affair'?" Lyra repeated. "Kind of an old-fashioned way of putting it, don't you think? It's not like either of them is married."

"I am not having an affair, I am not anything with Pyrrha," Dove declared. "That you would think that I … you're ridiculous. You two are being utterly and completely ridiculous. If I wasn't in such a good mood, I would be heartily offended."

"Why are you in such a good mood?" asked Lyra.

Dove hesitated for a mood. His good mood did not prevent him from sighing. "I … you two are my best friends; you know that, don't you?"

Lyra held up one hand, a hand which Bon Bon took, feeling Lyra's fingers close around said hand.

"We had the idea, sure," Lyra said, smiling at him.

"There are things…" Dove began, before he paused. "Just trust me on this, alright? Trust me and … let it go. Pyrrha isn't cheating on Jaune — not with me, and probably not with anyone else either, and even if she was so inclined, I wouldn't be a part of it. Trust me and let it go. Now, since you've been so kind as to point out that I do have a slight smell around me, I think that I should go and get a shower."

He walked into the bathroom before either of them could say another word, shutting the door behind him.

They could hear some faint humming coming from the other side of the door.

"He is in a good mood," Lyra observed. "When was the last time he was this happy?"

"I'm not sure he was ever this happy since we've known him," Bon Bon replied. "He's always been…"

"Melancholy?" Lyra suggested.

Bon Bon nodded. "Sad and solemn. Maybe he's finally over it."

"You mean over her?" Lyra replied. "Over Amber."

"She was the reason why he was sad," Bon Bon admitted. "So … yes, maybe he's finally over her."

Lyra winced. "Is it awful of me if I say that I hope not?"

Bon Bon frowned. "Why would you hope not? Don't you want Dove to be happy?"

"By breaking up someone else's relationship?" Lyra asked. "Honestly, Bonnie, no. Not really, not like this. Don't get me wrong, I don't think that Dove owes Amber his undying devotion; she's gone, whether she left without looking back or … or she … whatever happened to her, she doesn't have the right to reach out from … wherever she is and demand that Dove not move on with his life. That's why I helped you try and set him up with Ciel, for all the good that did. But of all the girls out there he could have gone with, why choose the one who's already taken?"

"No boy owns their girlfriend."

"I'm not saying they do," Lyra said. "But…" She flopped down onto her back. "If I were in a relationship, I would like my partner to be faithful to me. I'll even go further than that: I think if we were in a relationship, I would have the right to expect that, to demand it. And so, because I'm not a hypocrite, I'm not gonna lie here and say that it's okay with me for Dove to be a part of something like that. If you're not happy, then break up. If you want to see other people, then break up with the person you're seeing already — or have a threesome or something, I guess, but anyway. Maybe it'll be hard, but tough. Do it anyway, do the right thing. And don't be a party to the wrong thing, even if you're not involved with anyone else; that's just basic stuff."

"Hmm," Bon Bon murmured. "And you're sure that smell is Pyrrha's?"

"My nose doesn't lie," Lyra replied. "Although … I have to admit I never would have thought that Dove would … he's too upright."

"Me neither," Bon Bon said softly. "Still, there's nothing that we can do to stop him, so I guess we'll just have to wait and see what happens next."

XxXxX​

Glynda folded her arms. "Mister Bronzewing is Amber's boyfriend?"

Qrow laughed sourly. "It sounds really weird hearing you talk like that, Professor," he muttered. "But why don't we start with the fact that Amber even has a boyfriend."

"Oh, so you can say it?" Glynda asked.

Qrow smirked. "What can I say? I'm down with the kids." He took a swig from his flask. "So … Amber has a boyfriend?"

Ozpin sighed. Glynda, Qrow, and Ironwood were all with him in his office; very soon, Amber would arrive, accompanied by Team SAPR and — so Sunset had informed him by text message — Mister Bronzewing, to discuss the arrangements for Amber's security going forwards and her arrangements for the near future until more permanent arrangements could be made.

There would also need to be a talk with Mister Bronzewing about what he knew and how important it was that he did not share it.

For now, though, it was just the four of them: himself and three of his five lieutenants, the most trusted three. Ironwood stood at his left hand side; Glynda was on his right but a little farther off, a few feet from his desk. Qrow stood near the centre of the room, closest to the elevators.

"Yes, Qrow," Ozpin said. "Amber has…" If Glynda could not say the word 'boyfriend' without it seeming strange passing from her lips then what chance did he have? "Amber is romantically involved with a young man."

"I thought Merida raised her in the woods precisely to avoid this kind of thing," Qrow muttered.

"And yet, nevertheless…" Ozpin murmured. "Apparently, he found her in the woods regardless. Love finds a way, it seems."

"'Love'?" Qrow repeated. "Come on, Oz; these are kids we're talking about."

"Amber believes that she loves him," Ozpin said.

"Really?" Qrow muttered. "Thank gods Tai raised Yang with more sense. But kids believe a lot of things; it doesn't make it true; nobody knows what love is at that age."

Glynda's eyebrows rose. "And how old was Tai when he and Raven—"

"Raven left," Qrow said harshly. "If you love someone, you don't run out on them, leave them literally holding the baby. What Tai had with Summer, that was love, and that … that kind of thing takes time, maturity, the ability to pull your head out of your ass and see that the girl you needed might not be the girl you want, but the one who's been there for you the entire time."

"Whether Amber's feelings for this boy are as real as she thinks or just a passing fancy hardly seems relevant," Ironwood murmured.

"Indeed," Glynda agreed. "What matters is that he is here, a student at this school. Quite a coincidence."

"Mister Bronzewing came to Beacon in part to look for, and to be with, Amber," Ozpin said. "That is no coincidence at all. It also, I must say, speaks passing well for his character."

"Who are you trying to convince, Oz?" Qrow asked. "Us or yourself?"

"Oz did the right thing," Ironwood said.

Qrow blinked rapidly. He looked down at the flask that was still in his hand. "I must have had more of this than I thought," he said, "because I could have sworn that you just said that you thought Oz had done the right thing."

"I did," Ironwood said, with an air of long-suffering patience.

"You agree with Ozpin?"

"It has been known to happen," Ironwood declared.

"Maybe, but I wasn't expecting it to happen now," Qrow said.

Ironwood clasped his hands together behind his back. "Recently, my students have reminded me about the importance of free will, of letting these kids make their own choices, their own decisions, maybe even their own mistakes … reminded me that if we try and put them in cages, even for their own good, then … then no matter how benevolently designed the cage, it's still a cage, and it still ends up hurting them to be confined." He sighed. "Which reminds me, Oz, we need to talk at some point."

Ozpin leaned back in his chair a little as he turned it to face Ironwood. "There is time now."

Ironwood's eyebrows rose. "Aren't we a little busy right now?"

Ozpin held up his hands. "What is there to be said? Mister Bronzewing has been informed and reintroduced to Amber. Whether you think that it was a good idea or no, whether you think that I should have allowed Miss Shimmer to do it or no … it is rather irrelevant now, wouldn't you agree? What's done is done."

"What's he like?" asked Qrow.

"Hard working, for sure," Glynda said. "Of the male students in his year, I would have rated him the best—"

"'Would have'?" Qrow repeated.

"Mister Arc has been improving rapidly," Glynda explained, "but Mister Bronzewing is no slouch, although I'm not sure that his choice of weapon does him any favours. He is not the most popular student, but he is far from unpopular. If I had to describe him in a word, I would choose … reliable. He does not possess star quality or exude charisma, but he is reliable. If I asked him to do something, then I know it would be done." She paused. "He is also wasted in Team Bluebell. He should have been kept with Team Iron, and they should have—"

"Glynda, at this point, that particular argument verges upon ancient history," Ozpin pointed out.

"Team Iron," Qrow said. "That's Yang's team, right?"

"Of your two nieces," Glynda said, "I consider Miss Xiao Long the more reliable."

"That's not a compliment," Qrow said.

"It is from me," Glynda replied.

Qrow snorted. "'Reliable' is what you look for in a family car or a refrigerator. In a warrior, you need some flash to get the job done."

"Glynda," Ozpin said, "would you really rather that it were Miss Xiao Long I had invited down into the vault to become the next Fall Maiden? Or Miss Valkyrie? Would either of them have been able to devise a way to save Amber without anyone needing to go through with the transfer?"

Glynda bowed her head slightly, even as she pushed her half-moon spectacles up her nose. "No, Professor."

"In any case, as I said, it is ancient history now; what's done is done," Ozpin said. "As for Mister Bronzewing, at the very least, he does not sound like the worst sort of boy who could be in this position. He is, by all accounts and outward appearances, a conscientious young man. Yes, it could be worse. So, James, you were saying?"

Ironwood hesitated for a moment. "Miss Polendina's transfer papers, her request to move from Atlas to Beacon next year. I know that she should have submitted the forms to you first, but given the special circumstances, I wanted to talk to you about it."

"'Special circumstances'?" Qrow asked.

"Miss Polendina is … an unusual student," Ozpin explained, without explaining very much of anything. "But one you may rest assured that we will take excellent care of, as we strive to take the very best care of all our students here at Beacon."

"When you're not recruiting them into this little war," Qrow muttered.

Ozpin frowned, both because the sally pained him and because he knew that he deserved it; in the face of what he did, the way that he chose particularly talented students and recruited them into his private army, in the face of the way that he had treated Miss Rose … it did make Beacon's nurturing pretensions seem rather hypocritical, didn't it?

"There was no need for that," Glynda said.

"And yet, you are not wrong," Ozpin whispered.

Qrow looked guilty, biting his lip and sticking his hands into his pockets. "No, Glynda's right; that was out of line. I'm sorry, Oz; I know that … I know you do what you have to do, just like I know that, for some students, joining up with you is the best thing that ever happened to them."

And for others the worst, Ozpin thought. For every Qrow, there was a Raven … or a Miss Shimmer: someone who faltered and failed in the face of the burden that he placed upon them.

"I don't have the right to lecture you about how to treat Penny, so I won't," Ironwood went on, "but … if it could be somehow arranged for her to stay close to Team Sapphire, at least at first, until she makes other friends, then I would take it as a personal favour."

"That is not so easy," Glynda said.

"But we will see what we can do," Ozpin assured him. "After all … after all we ask of these students, these children, to try and ensure that they are happy and comfortable when they are not in battle with the world at stake … that seems like the very least that we can do, does it not? As it is with Miss Polendina, so it is with Amber. She is a Maiden, she is a Maiden who has been wounded and sundered from part of her power, she is … condemned to be a target of Salem until she dies. Letting her have her young beau is really little enough." Compared with what I have asked of her, it is nothing at all.

There was the chiming of a little bell, and the elevator door opened.

XxXxX​

With six people inside, the elevator up to Professor Ozpin's office was definitely crowded. One might even go so far as to call it overcrowded.

Or one could just call it cramped, which it absolutely was, especially when five of the six people inside were trying to give Amber as much space as possible so that she didn't feel too hemmed in.

Not that it was possible not to feel a little hemmed in in a place like this.

Sunset was turned partly side on, so that she could press her shoulder against the closed lift door without worrying about her tail getting caught in said door when it opened — if only because she was holding her tail out of the way with her free hand. She turned her head somewhat, but not too much, since she didn't want to get her hair caught in the door either, to look at Amber.

Amber was in the very centre of the elevator; everyone was trying to make room for her, yet nevertheless, she was hunched up, shoulders bent and drawn in, hands clasped together in front of her, head down.

"It won't be too long now," Sunset assured her, although it seemed to her that the lift was taking longer than normal to grind its way up to the top of the tower. "It won't be long, and we'll be out of here."

"And with him," Amber murmured.

Sunset frowned. She knew exactly who 'him' was, everybody knew that she was referring to Professor Ozpin, but … Sunset didn't know how to get Amber to stop feeling this way.

Pyrrha … well, Sunset hadn't actually spoken to Pyrrha about this, but Sunset had the impression that Pyrrha, and probably Jaune too, felt that Amber was justified in feeling as hostile as she did towards Professor Ozpin.

Probably because they felt pretty hostile towards Professor Ozpin at the moment themselves. Sunset could not deny that they had cause to feel that way; what Professor Ozpin had been prepared to do to Pyrrha was … regardless of the emergencies of the situation, it had been a pretty monstrous thing to contemplate. It was not the sort of thing that Princess Celestia would have done.

No, Sunset could not blame Pyrrha for being a bit miffed about it, even if she had been willing to go along with it for the greater good; nor could she blame Jaune; it was a lot to ask that someone take almost losing the love of their life with perfect equanimity and no smouldering resentments at all.

But Amber … Amber had been … regardless of what mistakes Professor Ozpin had or had not made with Amber, Sunset could not help but think it would be better for both of them if they were to reconcile. It had been better for Sunset when she had made up with Princess Celestia, after all; she had felt less angry afterwards, less melancholy, less abandoned, less … less many negative things. She had regained a mentor, a confidante, a tireless figure of wisdom, authority, and patience whom she could approach for advice at any time. Someone she could trust to be there for her, no matter what.

Amber would benefit from having someone like that in Professor Ozpin. To be perfectly honest, almost anyone or everyone would benefit from having someone like that in their life, but in the immediate context of their present situation — and hers — Amber would certainly benefit from having someone like that in Professor Ozpin.

It was just a matter of how to make her understand that.

It was also a matter of whether Amber was receptive enough to the message that Sunset ought to risk it; Professor Ozpin had made a good point that if she pushed too hard, then she might jeopardise Amber's trust in her. If Amber came to believe that Sunset was Professor Ozpin's woman, set to be not her guard but her gaoler, then it would make things more difficult in the near term.

And yet, it itched at Sunset to just leave things like this; it stuck in her craw, knowing what she did, knowing how much it would help Amber to mend fences with the man who had taught and tutored and helped to raise her. It was difficult to simply see this situation, far from ideal for all concerned, continue unchecked.

There was a difference between allowing people the liberty of their own thoughts and opinions — such as allowing Pyrrha and Jaune their cooled feelings towards the headmaster — and not doing anything to help someone who needed it.

"He…" Sunset hesitated. "Professor Ozpin is not a monster."

"What if," Amber began, "what if he tries to take me away?"

"I won't let that happen," Dove declared.

"I don't think Professor Ozpin will do that," Sunset said. "In fact, I'll go further and say that I'm sure he won't, at least not right now." She paused. "But, Dove … you do realise that Amber can't stay here at Beacon for four years, right? Or even for the next three? People would start to ask questions."

"What are you saying, Sunset?" Amber asked.

"I'm asking Dove if he's prepared to leave this school to go with you, wherever you go," Sunset explained. "Because it's likely that you'll be going somewhere sooner or later. Somewhere secret and safe."

"'Safe'?" Amber repeated. "Where is safe now, in the whole world?"

"I'll go wherever Amber does," Dove said. "It will … it will be a wrench to leave Lyra and Bon Bon behind, and I don't know how they'll continue on as a team of two, but … I won't leave you again." He reached for her hands, taking one of them inside his own. "I'll never leave you again."

Sunset nodded. "Good boy, that's the right answer."

"Family first, huh?" said Ruby.

Dove's cheeks flushed a little. "Well, I … I mean, we're not … but I suppose you … could say that."

Sunset grinned. "Your teasing game is getting better, Ruby."

"But I wasn't teasing anyone," Ruby replied.

"Yeah, you were; you just didn't realise it," Sunset said airily, the smile remaining on her face.

Amber didn't seem teased in the least. She seemed to relax a little more, her shoulders loosening and losing some of their hunch, a smile of her own spreading across her face. Not a grin, like Sunset wore, but a soft smile, a gentle one, although with a touch about it that some might call coy. She placed her free hand on top of Dove's.

"Family," she whispered.

Pyrrha's smile was small but noticeable.

Amber's brow furrowed somewhat. "What will I do when you're not around? Do you … this is a school, isn't it, and I can't … I don't think that I want to join you in your classes—"

"We don't have classes at the moment," Jaune explained. "The school year has ended, and we're … we'd be on break, except that the Vytal Festival is about to start, so we'll need some cover for that—"

"Vytal Festival?" Amber repeated. "What's a Vytal Festival?"

"You don't remember what the Vytal Festival is?" Ruby asked.

"Amber might not have ever known," Sunset pointed out. "She did live in the woods. You didn't have a television, did you?"

"No," Amber replied. "Everything that I know about the outside world comes from … from Ozpin."

She didn't even start calling him 'Uncle' Ozpin this time. That's not good.

"Very convenient for him," Dove muttered.

"It's not like that," Sunset said.

"Then what is it like?" Dove asked.

"It's like … I don't know, I wasn't there, but you do the man wrong; he's not a monster," Sunset insisted.

"Amber," Ruby said, "you have woken up at just the right time; the Vytal Festival is going to be terrific. I hope it's going to be terrific anyway. It should be. There are going to be parades and dances and parties—"

"Really? That all sounds lovely," Amber said. "And you're going? Can we go, Dove?"

"That's something that we can certainly talk about once we get up to the office," Sunset said.

"And if he says no?" Amber asked. "That's it? I'm a prisoner?"

"No, of course not," Sunset replied. "It's just—"

The bell chimed, indicating that they had reached the top floor.

"Oh, thank goodness for that," Sunset muttered, shuffling backwards as the doors to the lift opened up, not catching Sunset's hair or tail or anything else about her.

They exited, as quickly as they could without spilling out, walking across Professor Ozpin's office, passing beneath the shadows of the grinding gears of the clock above, to stand before the headmaster's desk.

Amber stood in the centre, with Dove at her right hand side; they were still holding hands. Pyrrha stood on Amber's left, with Jaune by her other side. Sunset stood to the right of Amber and Dove, with Ruby upon the far flank of the group.

Professor Ozpin sat behind his desk, his lieutenants arrayed around him: Professor Goodwitch at his right hand; General Ironwood upon his left; Qrow Branwen standing off to one side, arms folded, his back reflected in the tinted glass of the office windows.

Beyond said windows, one of the newly arrived Mistralian battleships could be seen hovering just beyond the cliffs, its nose and all the considerable armament of its forward battery facing their way. Bullheads seemed to be rising up towards it in some numbers; if Sunset had to guess, she would say that it was the Valish crew being taken up to their new ship to learn the ropes.

It would have been easier to do that in a dockyard, surely.

But in a dockyard, they wouldn't look as imposing, and Vale wouldn't look as safe.

She focused her attention on Professor Ozpin as he smiled. "Thank you all for coming so early; I'm aware that the dining hall hasn't even opened for breakfast yet, but I wanted to get everything straightened out before the wider student body has a chance to come across Amber." He paused a moment. "Good morning, Amber."

Amber did not look at him. "Good morning," she murmured, with a brittle quality in her voice that the politeness of her tone sounded strained already.

"How are you?" Professor Ozpin asked. "Did you sleep well last night?"

"I'm fine," Amber said quickly. "Last night was fine."

That was a lie, although perhaps only a little white one: Amber's night had not been fine last night; she had slept, but fitfully, tossing and turning and moaning in her sleep, waking Sunset and the others up at various points during the night to hear her. None of them blamed her for it — after what she'd been through, it was hardly surprising that she was tormented by nightmares — but as it had not been restful for them, so Sunset doubted that it had been restful for Amber.

It was exactly the sort of thing that it would have been good for Amber to speak with Professor Ozpin about, if she could only have brought herself to trust and love him as she once had.

Perhaps Sunset would talk to him about it anyway, without Amber knowing; he could get her some sleeping pills or something.

The smile faded from Professor Ozpin's face. "I see," he murmured, pushing his glasses further up his nose closer to his eyes; the light seemed to glint off of them, hiding said eyes from view, concealing what might be found there. "I am … glad to hear it."

Amber shivered.

"Are you cold?" Professor Ozpin asked.

"I'm fine; stop asking me," Amber snapped.

Professor Goodwitch looked embarrassed. General Ironwood seemed to be staring a few inches over Ruby's head at the wall at the back of the office, or perhaps the elevator door — and wishing he were inside it — anywhere but at the people in the office with him.

Nobody spoke.

Until Qrow said, "So, you're the boy, huh?"

"If you mean me, then yes, I suppose I am," Dove replied. "And you are?"

Qrow ignored that, saying instead, "Well, I can't say I'd let you date my nieces; you look a little boring to me. But I guess I thought the same of their dad, too."

"Uncle Qrow!" Ruby said reproachfully.

"Uncle?" Dove asked.

"What, I'm just messing with the kid; you know I love your dad," Qrow said breezily. "I just don't get why so many cute girls go for these basic boring losers. Like that guy over there." He gestured at Jaune with one hand.

"Qrow!" Professor Goodwitch snapped.

"I'm trying to lighten the mood! Gods know that this place could do with it, don't you think?" Qrow declared. "They get that."

He looked at the students.

Pyrrha was glaring at him like a beowolf that has just spotted its next meal.

"Tough crowd," Qrow muttered. "All right, all right, I'm sorry; I'm sure your boyfriend's a really nice guy; just forget I said anything."

He huffed, and took a drink from his flask.

"'Uncle'?" Dove repeated.

"I'm sorry about him," Ruby said. "He can be a little, uh … yeah."

"Shall we proceed?" asked Professor Goodwitch.

"By all means," Professor Ozpin said. "Thank you, Glynda."

Professor Goodwitch cleared her throat. "Thank you all for coming," she repeated. "We are here to discuss the arrangements for Amber's security for the foreseeable future. At some point, more permanent arrangements will be put in place, but for now, certainly for as long as Amber remains here at Beacon, then the dispensations made today will stand. Mister Bronzewing."

"Yes, Professor?"

Professor Goodwitch looked at him over the top of her spectacles. "You are aware of Amber's … condition?"

Dove nodded. "I am, Professor." He frowned. "I'm also aware that both you and Professor Ozpin knew all about where Amber was when I asked, and you both lied to me and said that you didn't know anything."

"Should we have told you the truth?" Professor Ozpin asked. "Knowing what you know, that Amber was in critical condition having been attacked for her powers, can you honestly say that we did not act in Amber's best interests by keeping the knowledge of her whereabouts a carefully guarded secret?"

"I wouldn't have blabbed the news all around the school," Dove replied. "What reason would I have to do that?"

"You might have told Miss Heartstrings and Miss Bonaventure," Professor Goodwitch replied. "Or Miss Xiao Long, your own team leader at the time. And who might Miss Heartstrings or Miss Bonaventure confide in? The risk was too great." She paused for a moment. "Mister Bronzewing, a great trust has been placed in you with this. Not many are privileged to know what you know. I happen to believe that you are worthy of that trust, but I would hate to be disappointed in my assessment of you."

Dove breathed in, and out. "I promise you, Professor, I promise all of you that I'll do whatever I can, whatever I have to do, in order to keep Amber safe. You have my word on that." He paused a moment. "I take it that means that you don't want me to tell Lyra and Bon Bon—"

"No more than any other student ought to know," Professor Goodwitch said, quickly and a little sharply. "That Amber is Professor Ozpin's niece and that she is staying with Team Sapphire for a little while. You must not tell Miss Heartstrings or Miss Bonaventure anything about the Fall Maiden."

"They might still wonder why you told me you didn't know anything about her," Dove pointed out.

"You may blame us if you wish," Professor Goodwitch replied, "or say that we did not believe the Amber you were looking for to be our Amber. Either way, they are not to know about magic, or Maidens, is that clear? I want your word on that, Mister Bronzewing, upon your honour. Amber's safety may depend upon it."

Dove bowed his head. "Upon my honour, Professor, you have my word. I will not breathe a word of it."

"Thank you, Mister Bronzewing," Professor Ozpin murmured. "I am glad to see you understand the magnitude of all this. For what it may be worth, little enough though that may be, I am sorry that we had to deceive you. I took no joy from it, and Professor Goodwitch especially took none. We did … what was best for Amber. Although you may not believe it, Amber, we have always tried to do what was best for you."

Amber said nothing. She barely seemed able to look at Professor Ozpin.

"Thank you, Professor, for letting us tell Dove the truth, now that Amber is awake," Sunset said, glancing at Amber and at Dove. Maybe you could try for a little gratitude?

"Yes, thank you for not lying even more," Amber muttered.

Sunset closed her eyes and tried to suppress a wince. I walked right into that one, didn't I?

Professor Goodwitch ploughed on. "For the time being, Amber will remain as a guest in Team Sapphire's room, where she will sleep."

She waited a moment as though she expected Dove to object.

"We've already explained to Dove why that is for the best, Professor," Pyrrha supplied helpfully.

"Thank you, Miss Nikos," Professor Goodwitch replied. "Until Professor Ozpin decides otherwise, Amber should be accompanied at all times by a member of Team Sapphire, at least one member of Team Sapphire. When no member of the team is available to guard her — such as during your participation in the Vytal Tournament, which we have neither the desire, nor perhaps even the means, to deny you — then Miss Shimmer, you will be responsible for ensuring that other arrangements for Amber's security are made."

"Yes, Professor," Sunset said. "May I ask what other arrangements will be considered satisfactory?"

"Dash or Belladonna will be fine," General Ironwood said. "Or Penny, for that matter."

"In a pinch, you can ask me for assistance," Professor Ozpin said, "and I will have Qrow watch over Amber for a little while."

Amber gave a little sniffing squeak, as if the idea alarmed her.

Sunset found that she couldn't wholly blame her, Ruby's uncle or not; quite apart from her distaste for how freely he used that flask, there was also the fact that … well, he didn't look much like a gentleman, did he? Much as he might be at a loss for why girls like Pyrrha and Amber might be drawn to kind, courteous, and considerate men like Jaune or Dove, so too Sunset couldn't think for the life of her what anyone in their right mind would see in a pirate like Qrow. She found herself fighting the urge to curl her lip into a sneer and call him 'bandit scum' or something.

"And … me, Professor?" Dove asked.

Professor Goodwitch's mouth tightened. "I'm afraid, Mister Bronzewing, that we cannot trust you with this on your own."

Dove swallowed, but otherwise kept any sign of disappointment that he felt to himself. "No," he said softly. "No, I suppose not. I understand."

Whatever you said to him last night, Jaune, it seems to have worked wonders.

Professor Goodwitch nodded. "It would also be for the best if Amber did not leave the school grounds for the time being."

"Not leave?" Amber gasped. "So I am trapped here?"

"It is for your own protection," Professor Goodwitch said.

"And your control!" Amber snapped.

"Professor," Sunset said, taking half a step forwards. "If … if I may … regardless of the wider concerns, Benni Havens is only just outside the school grounds, so at the very least, an exception might be made there."

"True enough," Professor Goodwitch allowed. "Very well, Miss Shimmer."

"Thank you, Professor," Sunset said.

"I don't—" Amber began.

"Amber, please," Sunset said, looking back at her to cut her off. "Trust me, okay?"

Amber hesitated a second. "I trust you," she murmured.

Sunset nodded and smiled at her, before turning her attention back to Professor Ozpin and his allies. "And, well, Professor, with the Vytal Festival soon to be upon us, and hordes of tourists soon to descend upon the school grounds for the fairgrounds and in between matches … is the school really going to be so much safer than the city of Vale?"

"The school grounds will be guarded and patrolled by my forces," General Ironwood reminded her.

"Isn't the city also under your protection, General?" Sunset asked.

"Yes, but I don't have troops on the streets of Vale or controlling the entrances and exits," General Ironwood replied. "It will be much easier for Cinder to slip into Vale than it will be for her to slip back into Beacon."

"Nevertheless, the best guarantee of Amber's security will be our presence," Sunset said, "and she'll have that whether she's in Vale or at Beacon."

Professor Ozpin hesitated for a moment. "I … I am sorry," he said, "I know that this confinement is not to your liking, but with the present unsettled state of Vale, it is too great a risk."

The present unsettled state of Vale is a reason why it would be good if we had Maidens who could go out amongst the people and inspire them to do better, Professor, Sunset thought.

"But Amber will miss some of the best parts of the Vytal Festival!" Ruby cried. "Yeah, she'll be able to watch the matches and go to the fairgrounds, but there's so much more to it than that. Right, Uncle Qrow? You remember, that time when you and Dad took me and Yang, and you got us those tickets to watch the final."

Qrow smiled wryly. "Yeah. Yeah, Oz got me those tickets. That was … that was a good day."

"That was a good few days," Ruby said, "because I remember the time that we spent in Vale just as much, just as vividly, all the things that we did and the places we went, everything that was going on … it was the most wonderful time, the best time I've ever had in Vale, one of the best anywhere. I think … I know it's dangerous, but so much is dangerous right now, I think that it would be good if … if Amber were to have a chance to make those wonderful memories before she has to hide again. I think she deserves that after everything she's been through."

"Perhaps," Pyrrha began, "perhaps security in Vale could be stronger than it is at Beacon? Perhaps if two of us were to accompany Amber in the city, as opposed to just one on the school grounds?"

General Ironwood bent down and whispered something to Professor Ozpin; Sunset couldn't make out everything he said, but she was sure that she caught the word 'cage' in there somewhere.

Professor Goodwitch furrowed her brow, but Professor Ozpin nodded.

General Ironwood straightened up once more.

Professor Ozpin said, "General Ironwood reminds me that misguided efforts at protection and safekeeping can do more harm than good. Therefore, I will permit Amber to be escorted into the city of Vale—"

Sunset smiled. "Thank you, Professor—"

"When escorted by all four members of Team Sapphire," Professor Ozpin went on. "Or by Qrow. There will be no other circumstances in which I permit this, no exceptions, and you are to stay close by Amber at all times until you return to school. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Professor," Pyrrha said. "Perfectly."

"At the moment, this applies before the start of the Vytal Festival," Professor Ozpin went on. "Whether it is extended to cover the Festival itself remains to be seen."

"You mean, if it all goes okay beforehand, you'll allow it?" asked Ruby.

"Yes, Miss Rose," Professor Ozpin replied. "It depends entirely on you."

Ruby nodded. "Then we won't let you down, Professor. You won't regret it."

"I hope not, Miss Rose," Professor Ozpin said heavily.

Amber opened her mouth, then closed it without speaking. She licked her lips, took half a step forwards, or began to but then hesitated. She put one hand to her chest, above her heart. "Uh … Ozpin," she murmured.

Professor Ozpin looked at her. "Yes, Amber?"

"Thank you," whispered Amber.

Professor Ozpin's expression resembled a flower long cast in shadow that has just felt the sunlight on it once again for the first time. It was like watching him bloom and blossom before their eyes, his eyes, his whole face brightening.

"You are very welcome, Amber," he said.

Sunset smiled as she looked down at the floor.

You know, maybe, just maybe, they're going to be okay.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Recognition

​

The elevator door opened, and the six of them — Sunset, Pyrrha, Ruby, Jaune, Amber and Dove — relievedly exited onto the ground floor of the Emerald Tower; this early in the morning, it was deserted, save for the Atlesian androids on guard. The soft green light of the tower lobby reflected off their sleek white bodies as they moved with stiff gait and clanking noises around the room.

They paid Team SAPR, Amber, and Dove no mind, but Amber shrank back from them a little regardless, stepping closer to Dove while at the same time trying to put Pyrrha and Sunset between herself and the robots.

"It's alright," Pyrrha reassured her. "They're not here to hurt you. They're here to protect the tower; they're completely harmless."

"Unfortunately they're halfway to harmless to their enemies as well," Sunset muttered.

Ruby, who overheard her, snorted.

"There's really nothing to be scared of," Pyrrha went on. "They recognise us as friends."

Amber frowned. "How?" she asked.

Pyrrha opened her mouth, but did not speak for a moment. "I … must confess I'm not entirely sure."

"There's a database with all of our faces on it," Ruby explained, "which it has because it's got access to the official school database so it knows who all of the students are and what we look like, and then it uses facial recognition algorithms to identify us, and we're all tagged as friendly. Twilight explained it to me."

"But … how does that work for me?" Amber asked. "I'm not a student here."

"Probably Professor Ozpin put your ID into the records regardless, so that the androids would have access to your picture," Sunset said. "It's the sort of thing that he'd consider as soon as you woke up."

Amber glanced at Sunset. "You like him, don't you? Ozpin, I mean?"

Sunset stopped walking towards the door. She thrust her hands into the pockets of her jacket.

"I didn't, at first," she said, "I didn't trust him, his motives, his desires, what he'd do to my friends to get what he wanted. But … I understand him better now, and I find him a better man than I gave him credit for." She frowned. "I don't defend what happened to you, or the part that Professor Ozpin played in this situation you're in, but it was a mistake, not malice. I won't stand here and tell you that Professor Ozpin always makes the right decision, but he always tries to do what's best."

"Best for who?" Amber asked softly.

Sunset did not reply to that, because she was not immediately sure of the correct response to that; she wasn't sure of the correct response absolutely, but more importantly, she wasn't sure of how exactly Professor Ozpin would try to respond to that. Best for humanity? Best for the Maidens? Best for his agents? You could take a collection of his decisions and argue for any one of those positions based on the things Professor Ozpin had done and decided to do.

"It depends, I think," Sunset admitted. "But up in his office just now, he did what was best for you, not for himself."

Amber looked down at her hands, playing with the golden bracelets around her wrist. "That's not…" she began, before trailing off. "I suppose he was kind to me, letting me leave." She looked around, not only at Sunset but at Pyrrha and Ruby. "Thank you all for speaking up for me."

"No thanks are necessary," Pyrrha said,

"But you're welcome anyway," added Ruby.

"Now," Sunset said, "are you up for getting breakfast in the cafeteria, or do you want to go back to the dorm room, and we can pick you up something that you can eat there?"

Amber hesitated for a moment. "I … let's get breakfast in the dining hall, like we said we would."

"There are going to be a lot of people in there," Sunset warned her.

Amber swallowed, but at the same time tried to stand up straighter. "I … I don't want to hide forever," she said. She glanced at Dove. "And I want to meet Dove's friends, Lyra and Bon Bon."

Sunset nodded. "Okay then," she said. "Come with us, right this way."

They left the tower, unhindered by any Atlesian android, and ventured out onto the stone square, with the crossed axes of Beacon Academy painted in white upon the slate grey stones, where they found Penny waiting for them.

"Good morning, everyone!" she called brightly, waving with one hand as she jogged across the grey slabs towards them. "How did it go with Professor Ozpin and everyone?"

"It went pretty well, Penny," Ruby said. "Amber's allowed to leave the school grounds, so she'll be able to take in everything about the Vytal Festival."

"Although you've been volunteered as a potential bodyguard for Amber if we're not around, so prepare to be summoned for that at some point," Sunset said.

"That will be wonderful, I'm sure," Penny said, walking towards Amber. "Greetings. My name is Penny Polendina, and I hope that we can get to know one another much better and become good friends."

She did not, in spite of what one might have expected, leap on Amber for a tackling hug, but rather, held out one hand towards her.

Gingerly, delicately, Amber reached out and took her hand. "Likewise," she said. "I look forward to getting to know you, too."

"Wonderful!" Penny cried. "I can't wait!" She looked down at Amber's other hand, still holding Dove's. "So it's true what Ciel said," Penny gasped. "You did know Dove before all of this."

Amber let go of Penny's hand and pressed close against Dove, wrapping said hand around his elbow. "Yes," she murmured. "Yes, we knew each other very well."

"And now you've found one another again, that's so sweet," Penny said. "It's just like a story."

"It is indeed," Pyrrha murmured. "A rebuke to those who say that such stories are inherently unrealistic."

"Does anybody really say that?" asked Amber.

"Some people do," said Jaune.

"But why?" asked Penny.

"I can't say for sure," Pyrrha replied, "but I think they must be rather unhappy."

"You couldn't believe it either," Penny said. "Do you like stories, Amber? Blake gave me a book of fairytales to read, or do you not need to bother with reading them when your life is a story already?"

Amber laughed, a sweet sound like water pouring down a rocky brook. "I'm very lucky," she said, "but if I hadn't loved stories about love and charming princes—"

"I'm hardly a prince," Dove said.

"You are to me," Amber insisted. "In my heart, and in yours." She kissed him on the cheek. "If I hadn't read about it, how would I have recognised it when it happened to me?"

Penny nodded eagerly. "So which is our favourite?"

"The Girl in the Tower, it has to be," Amber declared.

"Really?" asked Ruby, undisguised scepticism in her tone. "That one?"

"Yes," Amber said. "Why, is that so hard to believe? I don't see how anyone could not love it, the story of a fair princess rescued from her wicked father by a dashing hero!"

Sunset glanced up at the very tall tower that rose behind them, and to the old man within who had been the closest to a father Amber had ever known.

Perhaps this present hostility was coming even before Amber became the Fall Maiden, Professor.

"Although," Amber went on, "if I were telling the story, then the great hero who came for her would have fallen in love with her via letter before he ever set eyes on her."

"But then how would he be any different than all the knights and lords who came before, who sought only to obtain the old king's realm as their dowry by killing him and wedding his daughter?" Pyrrha said. "The point is that the hero, the one who rescued her, did so without thought of reward, still less of her heart but only of doing the right thing and rescuing someone who is in need."

"But isn't it so much more romantic to fight for love?" Amber asked. "Her words showed her true self to him long before they set eyes on one another."

"It would have been better if the princess had rescued herself," said Ruby.

"A little unfair," Pyrrha murmured. "Her father had never taught her how to fight, after all."

"Yeah, but that's only … I mean the story can be whatever, right?" Ruby asked.

"Unless it really happened," Sunset pointed out.

They all looked at her.

"'Really happened'?" Pyrrha repeated.

"Well, why not?" Sunset answered. "The Story of the Seasons happened, sort of. Who's to say what other stories are based on truth? Why not the Girl in the Tower?"

"Well, when you put it like that…" Ruby muttered.

"Indeed, although I suppose we will never know the answer," Pyrrha said. "One way or another. But, for my part, it is not true. What real life for the princess and the hero could ever live up to the happily ever after attributed to them in the story?"

They arrived at the dining hall shortly thereafter. The cafeteria was almost empty; it was not entirely empty — which was good, because when you're the absolute first to arrive at a place like a cafeteria, you can't help but be haunted by the fear that they haven't actually opened yet — but the tables were sparsely occupied, mostly empty, with vast acres of unclaimed space within the cavernous hall. There were a couple of less notable Beacon First Year teams who had, like SAPR and Dove, gotten up early, and Sunset supposed that she ought to have recognised her classmates — and she did, a little bit; one of them was named Jack Darby, and he was the leader of Team … Team … it would come to her in a second — but the only person in the hall who Sunset really recognised was Pyrrha's friend Arslan, who was sitting alone with a cooked breakfast of sausage, bacon, and eggs in front of her.

"Arslan?" Pyrrha asked softly.

"Do you know her?" Amber asked.

"Oh, yes, that's Arslan Altan," Pyrrha replied. "She is something of a rival, but also a good friend."

Pyrrha led the way in Arslan's direction, the others all following behind her without demur.

"Arslan?" she said again, as they drew closer to her. "What are you doing here?"

Arslan looked up at her, "Hey, P-money; I'm here to have breakfast, what do you think I'm doing here?"

"I meant why are you here by yourself?" asked Pyrrha patiently.

"Oh, right," Arslan muttered. "Because my team either doesn't like me or doesn't want to get up early."

"On no!" Amber cried. "That sounds awful!"

Arslan looked at her, leaning back on the long stool to get a better look at her from around Pyrrha.

"Arslan," Pyrrha said. "Allow me to present Amber…" She paused, a light smile coming to play across her lips. "You know, I don't believe you've ever mentioned your last name."

"Oh, didn't I?" Amber said. "It's Briarrose, Amber Briarrose."

Arslan rose to her feet. "Nice to meet you, Amber; I'm Arslan Altan."

Amber smiled, and curtsied. "It's nice to meet you, Arslan. Do you mind if we join you?"

"Are you sure?" asked Sunset.

"If that's alright," Amber replied. "I'd … I'd like to make some new friends."

"It's fine by me," Arslan said. "As you can see, I'm not overburdened by company at the moment, but I'm not desperate for my solitude either. Sit yourselves down, or get something to eat first and then sit yourselves down; I doubt the table is going to be taken in the next few moments."

"It's this way," Sunset said, indicating the right-hand side of the dining room, where the various hot options sat under heat-lamps to keep them passably warm, while the various cold options sat growing ever so slightly lukewarm, which might be for the best, compared to how cold it began. Here, there were sausages and rashers of bacon lying in metal trays; here, there were fried eggs beginning to fuse into one; here, there were baked beans,and porridge in deep dishes. Here, there was fruit salad, and here grapefruit; here was various brands of Pumpkin Pete's and other cereals—

"That's you, Pyrrha," Amber said, picking up the box of Marshmallow Flakes.

Pyrrha laughed a trifle nervously. "Yes," she admitted. "Yes, that's me."

Amber looked at Pyrrha, and then looked at the box. "But why?" she asked. "Why did they put you on the box?"

"Well," Pyrrha murmured, "I happen to have won some small acclaim in tournaments back home; they put me on the box to honour me."

"I see," Amber said, "so being on this box was your reward for victory?"

"Not exactly," Pyrrha replied. "But … it's a little complicated to explain; why don't we get something to eat and sit down rather than standing here, holding everyone else up, while I attempt to explain it?"

"All right," Amber said. "Would you recommend this?"

"No," Pyrrha said immediately. "Not only is it not very good for you, but having tried it, I can't even say that it's very good."

"Come on now," Jaune said. "It tastes great. I ate my way through fifty boxes of it, and I still liked it just as much at the end as I did at the beginning."

"But I do wonder sometimes that you still have enough of your own teeth for that charming smile of yours," Pyrrha said softly, and with a rather sweet smile of her own.

Amber chuckled and put the cereal box down, taking a bowl from the nearby pile and ladling some porridge into it instead.

"Is there any honey?" she asked.

"It's here," Jaune said, grabbing a handful of little plastic tubs of honey from one of the high shelves over the cereal and putting them down on Amber's tray. Amber looked at them curiously, picking one up and turning it over; if she had seen anything quite like it before, then she had obviously forgotten.

"Thank you," she said softly.

Dove reached for the porcine options on display under the heated lamps, but then thought better of it — possibly out of deference to Amber's vegetarianism — and had the vegetarian sausages and the meat-free bacon instead. Pyrrha had the real thing, following Arslan's lead in having sausages and bacon — although not a fried egg. Sunset contented herself with a bowl of grapefruit, while Jaune flew the flag for sugary cereals with a bowl of Pumpkin Pete's Marshmallow Flakes. Ruby had porridge, like Amber, but unlike Amber, she garnished it with a handful of raisins and sultanas, and almost certainly with that banana that she'd just grabbed and which she would doubtless cut up into slices once she got back to the table.

Penny made do with an apple, which didn't look like much but was quite enough to fake eating, Sunset supposed.

They returned to the table; Pyrrha sat down opposite Arslan, with Jaune on her right and Amber and Dove on her left; Sunset sat down on Arslan's right opposite Amber, with Ruby opposite Dove. Penny sat down opposite Jaune.

"So, Pyrrha," Amber said, "why did they put your picture on the box?"

"She only just found out about the cereal box?" Arslan asked.

"Amber has had a … somewhat sheltered upbringing," Pyrrha explained. "The truth is … it was not technically a reward for my victories, it was not on offer as a prize for winning any fight, but…"

"But after she won the tournament three times, the first person to do so since Herakles two hundred years ago, the cereal company came banging on her door asking her to promote their stuff," Arslan said.

"That sounds very impressive," Amber said, "although…"

"Although what?" Pyrrha asked.

"You talk about tournaments," Amber murmured. "That's fighting, isn't it?"

"It is," Pyrrha said. "Fighting for honour, for glory, and for the entertainment of the crowds under safe, controlled, rule-bound conditions."

"But why?" Amber asked.

"For honour, for glory, and the entertainment of the crowd," Arslan said, before cutting off a slice of sausage and sticking it into her mouth.

Amber frowned. "Fighting for pleasure, not for anything but just because you enjoy it … I can't … I can't understand it."

"I feel the same way sometimes," Ruby said. "It feels a little bit pointless."

"It's fun!" Arslan exclaimed, her mouth still half-full before she swallowed.

"Do you really enjoy it?" asked Amber. "Do you like fighting?"

"Yes," Arslan said.

"But why?"

Arslan shrugged. "Because I'm good at it. Because it's the thing I'm best at. Because it gets my blood pumping like not much else. Because I like to hear the roar of the crowd in my ears. Isn't that enough?"

"You … you don't get scared then?" Amber asked. "You don't feel afraid?"

Arslan's eyebrows rose. "That is a big question to ask someone you've just met."

"In tournaments, there is nothing to be afraid of," Pyrrha supplied. "Everything is well-regulated, with rules in place; everything is organised. No one is in any real danger."

"Are you sure?" asked Amber. "How … how can you be sure that it's safe?"

"Because … it is," Arslan said. "It is safe, nothing bad ever happens."

"Well," Pyrrha murmured. "That isn't quite true. My mother had to retire from the tournament circuit when an errant stroke broke through her aura and severed her hamstring."

Amber flinched. "I'm sorry."

"Well, okay, sometimes, bad things happen," Arslan admitted. "But very rarely, and it's not like anyone's ever died in the modern era. My point is, the occasional accident aside, there isn't really much to be scared of."

"And on the battlefield?" Amber asked nervously. "Are you not scared then?"

Arslan was silent for a moment. "Again, that's a big question to ask when we've only just met."

Amber looked down at her bowl of porridge. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "I shouldn't pry."

"It's not a big deal," Arslan declared, though she gave no sign of actually answering the question. "Anyway, if you don't mind me saying so, I don't think I've seen you around here before."

"No," Amber whispered. "No, I … um, I, uh—"

"Amber is Professor Ozpin's niece," Sunset said, coming to her rescue with the agreed story as laid out by Professor Goodwitch. "She's staying with the headmaster for a little bit, while her … late mother's affairs are settled. Professor Ozpin asked us to take her under our wing while she's here."

Arslan's eyes seemed to linger for a moment upon the scars on Amber's face. "I see," she said softly. "I'm sorry. That … I'm sorry."

There was a moment of silence. Amber began eating her porridge. No one else seemed to know quite what to say. The story that Professor Goodwitch had given them was convenient, to a certain extent, but it was also rather grim and something of a mood-killer.

"You know, Amber," Pyrrha said, "you did a lot better than Jaune to recognise me on that cereal box. He once ate fifty boxes in order to win a prize hoodie, and yet, he still had no idea who I was when he saw me in the flesh."

Jaune snorted. "You know, if you count the cereals I ate before I started trying to win the hoodie, it probably came to a lot more than fifty."

Amber swallowed a mouthful of porridge. "Ah, but you see, that's really romantic," she declared. "Because it means that Jaune didn't see you, really see you, until he beheld your true self, and that's when he loved you."

There was another silence. Jaune's face reddened a little. "I mean … I might have kind of had a crush on the girl on the box—"

"And on Weiss Schnee," Sunset added.

Arslan rolled her eyes. "Don't try and come with that false humility; you're the most romantic couple in the school, own it."

Pyrrha smiled knowingly. "I think there might be a challenger for our crown now," she said, glancing at Amber and Dove.

Arslan's eyebrows rose, her eyes darting between Amber and Dove. "Oh," she said, "fast, but—"

"We knew each other before Beacon," Dove explained.

"Ah, not so fast then," Arslan replied. "Well, no offence, but I'll take you seriously as contenders when I see it. Not that I go out of my way to see that kind of thing; it's none of my business. Just … anyway, you've picked a good time to come visiting, I must say, despite the … circumstances, what with the Vytal Festival and all. Oh, that reminds me, Pyrrha, the film crew is coming the day after tomorrow; we need to start filming our stuff for that Vytal Festival documentary."

"'The day after tomorrow'?" Pyrrha repeated.

"Is that a problem?" Arslan asked.

"I suppose not," Pyrrha murmured. "It's just that that's when my mother is arriving. That's—"

"Lucky," Arslan said.

"I was going to say 'unfortunate,'" Pyrrha murmured. "Sunset, Jaune, would you mind going to meet her at the Skydock when she arrives?"

"Sure thing," Sunset said, "but that TV thing is still happening?"

"Well, it hasn't happened yet, has it?" Arslan responded.

"Yeah, but … they're cutting it fine, aren't they?"

"It's not like a cartoon or something; documentaries don't have long production lead times," Arslan said. "Besides, as I understand it, it's mostly done now; they've got the voiceover from Autumn Blaze, talking head segments with historians back home; they've got everything except for us."

"What is it that we'll be required to do, precisely?" asked Pyrrha, a trifle trepidatiously.

"Once the Amity Colosseum arrives, we're going to do some stuff there, talking to the camera, exploring the colosseum, that kind of thing," Arslan explained. "But the day after tomorrow is just talking to Professor Ozpin and getting some stuff from students about what the festival means to them."

"Might be a good one for you, Ruby," Sunset said.

Ruby chuckled. "I don't know if I've got the way with words; you should do it."

"Don't sell yourself short; you're very articulate once you build up a head of steam," Sunset replied. "This thing isn't going to keep you all day, is it? We've got Last Shot the day after tomorrow."

"Hey guys," Yang hailed, as Team YRBN breezed into the dining hall as part of the ever-growing trickle of students who were beginning to fill up the cafeteria as the morning wore on and the hour became a little less early. "Mind if we join you?"

"Hey, Yang," Ruby said. "Sure, I mean, if it's okay with Amber."

Amber looked up from her porridge. "Hello, Blake," she said, smiling.

"You two know each other?" Nora asked. "I don't think I've seen you around before."

"We've met," Blake said. "This is Amber."

"Amber Briarrose," Amber said, standing up.

"You don't have to get up," Yang said, waving one hand. "It's fine, really. So, Amber huh?" Her violet eyes widened. "Hey! Amber! Right, um, it's nice to meet you. Really great, uh … I'm Yang, Yang Xiao Long, and this is Nora Valkyrie, Lie Ren, and apparently, you've already met Blake."

Amber nodded, "She and Ciel gave me some help with my makeup last night."

"Huh," Nora said, as she glanced at Blake. "It does look pretty good, doesn't it, with those wings like flames on her eyes. Mind you, Pyrrha does the same thing."

"Yes, but Blake's eyes are closer to Amber's in shade," Pyrrha explained.

"Oh, right, yeah, I guess that does matter," Nora acknowledged.

Yang put her hands on her hips. "I gotta say, I'm a little surprised to see you here, Dove."

"Oh, hey, Dove, I didn't see you there for a second," Nora said. She paused for a moment. "Wait a … Dove?"

Dove blinked. "Uh, yes, Nora?"

"Amber?"

"Yes?" Amber said. "Is everything alright?"

"AMBER?!" Nora cried, making Amber flinch into Dove's shoulder.

"Nora, don't shout," Ren said. "It's still a little early."

"But it's Amber!" Nora yelled. "Remember? The girl who Dove came to Beacon to look for!"

Yang's jaw dropped. "You … you're that Amber?"

Amber smiled as she wrapped her hands around Dove's elbow. "Yes. Yes, I suppose I am. You … mentioned me?"

Dove looked at her. "I told a lot of people; I hoped that someone might have seen you, heard something about you. And besides, why would I ever want to keep you a secret?"

"Okay, now I buy that they're contenders," Arslan said.

"But how?" Nora demanded. "What are you doing here, and after a year, and why weren't you here when Dove got here even though you promised to meet him here, but you're here now, and—?"

"Why don't we get some breakfast before we start bombarding her with questions?" Ren suggested in an even tone.

"Perhaps we don't have to bombard her with questions at all?" Blake added. "This is breakfast, after all, not an inquisition."

"But I want to know now," Nora whined. "Don't you want to know?"

"What I'd like first is something to eat," Yang said. "Come on, food first."

Thank you, Yang and Blake, Sunset thought. And Ren too, I suppose. It occurred to her, as it probably should have occurred to them sooner than this, that the Professor Goodwitch approved story of Amber being Professor Ozpin's niece come to stay with him while her mother's affairs were straightened out did not mesh perfectly with the story about Amber being in a coma for a year.

How are we supposed to explain why Amber didn't meet Dove when he first came to Beacon as they had arranged?

How to explain why, if she's been in a coma for a year, Professor Ozpin hasn't sorted out his late sister's estate yet?

"Hey, Amber," Arslan said, a degree of solemnity in her voice.

Amber looked at her. "Yes, Arslan?"

"Certain icy kingdoms like to act as though they're the only ones who do good by their neighbours," Arslan said, "but that's a load of crap; us Mistralians invented hospitality, so, I know you probably won't need it since it seems you've got Team Sapphire looking out for you, but if there's anything that I can do for you, just ask, okay?"

Sunset frowned. Where did that come from? She looked at Pyrrha, who had no immediate obvious spark of recognition in her face that suggested she knew what was going on.

"Mistralian," Amber repeated. "So you're from Mistral too? Just like Pyrrha?"

"No," Arslan said. "P-money's from Mistral just like me."

"I'd love to visit Mistral some day," Amber declared. "Pyrrha's going to take me there!"

"Really? I'd love to see Mistral too!" Penny declared. "If that's alright with you, Pyrrha."

Pyrrha chuckled. "That would be lovely, Penny. I'll take you both to visit Mistral; we can all go, together. Provided that Ruby and Sunset don't object to seeing it again."

"I wouldn't mind," Ruby said. "There must be plenty more stuff to see that we didn't get around to last time, right?"

"Oh, indeed," Pyrrha agreed. "Even I haven't seen everything there is to see in Mistral."

"Not everything is worth seeing," Arslan muttered.

"I … would certainly have no objection to seeing Mistral again," Sunset said. Though I fear the rosepetals might have fallen from my eyes a little bit since we were there last. "But Amber … might have secured her new situation by the time it's possible to go." How are you going to persuade Professor Ozpin to allow this, Pyrrha?

"I don't see that that means Amber won't be in the mood for a vacation," Pyrrha replied, a touch of primness creeping into her voice. "And Mistral is a very romantic city, after all."

"It is?" Jaune asked.

"It was for us, no?" Pyrrha replied.

Okay, Pyrrha, but how are you going to persuade Professor Ozpin? Letting Amber go into Vale is one thing, but this? A whole other kingdom?

Have you thought about this at all?

Or have you thought about this and decided that the answer is you don't care what Professor Ozpin thinks or wants?

Ren was the first of Team YRBN to return, sitting down on the other side of Arslan opposite Ruby. "I apologise for Nora," he said. "She can be a little overenthusiastic at times, but she has a good heart. She has the best heart that I've ever come across."

"I see," Amber replied, a smile playing across her face. "That's quite alright, Lie."

"Ren," Ren said. "I go by Ren."

"Oh, I am sorry."

"It's not a problem," Ren assured her. "Just something to remember, if you can." He paused a moment. "I … I think that we can guess your story. You don't need to relive it for our benefit."

Amber's eyes widened. "You … you can guess?"

Ren nodded. "The world can be a treacherous place, as Nora and I have more cause than most to know. As I say, we don't need the details; the gist is a familiar enough story to most."

Right. This is an awful world where people are getting attacked and killed almost every day.

Sometimes I forget.

Vale and the other three kingdoms are safe havens in a world of darkness, isn't that right, Professor Port?

Nora returned next, her plate piled high with pancakes oozing syrup down off the plate and onto the plastic tray that she was carrying.

"Sorry about earlier," she said contritely as she sat down next to Ren. "I didn't want to … I was just surprised, is all."

"It's quite alright, really," Amber said. "I wasn't expecting to be recognised by anyone."

"Are you kidding?" Nora said. "Dove said you were his whole reason for coming to Beacon in the first place!" She leaned forward. "You must feel so lucky right now, huh, Dove?"

Dove beamed. "The luckiest, the very absolute luckiest."

Nora smiled. "You know, normally, I think that it's us girls who love longest, even when all hope is gone; it's our … it's our thing, even if it isn't something that a lot of boys would envy. But Dove … Dove's been the real thing this whole year, even when it must have seemed like he'd never see you again. I think you're pretty lucky yourself, Amber."

Amber cocked her head to one side, her face falling, her expression softening even as the scars that criss-crossed her face seemed to stand out more. "Are you alright, Nora?"

Nora had just been about to dig into her small mound of pancakes. She paused, the fork halfway to her open mouth. "Uh, yeah, why?"

"You … seem sad," Amber said.

"'Sad'?" Nora cried. "What? No! Come on, what have I got to be sad about?" She gave a laugh as hearty as it was obviously false.

Amber glanced at Ren, before she said, "Of course, how silly of me, please forgive me; I don't know what I was saying."

"Don't worry about it," Nora said. "I say dumb stuff all the time." She stuck the forkful of pancakes into her mouth.

Yang and Blake were the next to arrive, Blake with some healthy muesli and Yang with what looked like six sausages — but more of them could have been hidden under the baked beans that she had slathered them with.

Blake sat down on Sunset and Arslan's side of the table, while Yang sat down on the side with Ruby and Amber. Except she did not sit down, although she put her tray down on the table with a soft tap. Yang herself remained standing, looking down on Amber.

"Amber," she said, "what has blonde hair and is here to help?"

"Jaune?" Amber guessed.

"No, not Jaune, me!" Yang said. "I'm blonde, and I'm here to help. You need anything, you just gotta ask, okay?"

"Okay," Amber said. "Everyone … everyone is being so very kind to me."

"The friendliest place on Remnant," Yang said, as she actually sat down. "A place where we learn how to beat one another up. That has to be some kind of irony." She took a drink from a glass of orange juice.

"Not really," Ruby said. "I mean, we aren't just here to learn how to beat one another up; that's not even the main thing we're here to learn. We're here to learn how to stand together against monsters, and so of course we're going to be all friends. So we can all have each other's backs when we need to."

"You're all so brave, too," Amber said quietly. "I could never do what you all do."

"I don't know; you look ready for a fight," Arslan pointed out.

Amber glanced down at the pauldron on her shoulder. "I … I know how," she admitted. "But I'd much rather not."

"That's fair," Yang said. "The huntress life isn't for everyone. So, what were you guys talking about before we showed up?"

"Mistral," said Amber.

"Last Shot," said Sunset.

"Oh, yeah, right, that's coming up," Nora said. "Are you guys going to enter?"

"Of course," Sunset replied. "Why wouldn't we?"

"You hardly need to," Yang said. "Everyone knows that Professor Ozpin is going to pick Team Sapphire to go into the Vytal Festival."

"Nobody knows anything," Sunset declared. "Professor Ozpin could pick…" — she waved her arms in the direction of Jack Darby and his teammates, whose name had still not come to her yet — "them to represent Beacon in the Vytal Festival if he wanted to. If a team that hasn't impressed much over the year has a good showing in Last Shot, and a team that looked like a nailed on bet doesn't bother to show up out of sheer complacency, what do you think Professor Ozpin is going to think, huh? Who is he going to look favourably on?"

As it happened, Sunset did think that Team SAPR was as close to a surefire bet to get picked to represent Beacon as any team in the school, all things considered, but that didn't mean that she hadn't meant every word that she'd just said to Yang. Complacency could be the downfall of the greatest, as she had learned at Canterlot to her cost, especially when it came to the estimation of teachers. Especially since Professor Ozpin would probably not allow external circumstances like the services Team SAPR had rendered him to affect his judgement in any way when it came to Vytal selections.

"And besides," she added, "I've never objected to showing off our skills."

Yang laughed. "Okay, so we come to the real reason."

"All my other reasons were valid too," Sunset said.

"And that is why I told you we should do it," Nora said.

"You weren't going to do Last Shot?" asked Ruby incredulously. "Don't you want to get picked?"

"I want to get picked; I just figured we'd probably get picked anyway, and I didn't want to let everyone know what we could do before the tournament," Yang said. "But now … I'm reconsidering."

"Excuse me," Penny said, "but what is Last Shot?"

"I was wondering the same thing," Arslan said.

"Its real name is Voluntary Student Proficiency Demonstrations," Pyrrha explained.

"So you can see why we call it Last Shot," Jaune added.

"It's a thing where," Ruby began. "Okay, back up a second; Professor Ozpin picks the eight teams that are gonna fight for Beacon in the Vytal Tournament, right? But how does he pick them?"

Penny thought about it for a second. "Out of a hat?"

"No, I think that's Shade," Ruby replied. "Professor Ozpin picks by … well, I think he just picks. He decides who he thinks deserves to get to fight in the tournament, but before he picks, there's something called Last Shot where all the teams who want to get picked … actually, I suppose that's not strictly true because it's voluntary, and you don't have to participate, but basically, it's a set of random four on four matches, teams against teams, and it's the last chance to impress Professor Ozpin before he makes his decision. That's why it's called Last Shot."

"Makes sense," Arslan said, "but if you're going to go and have matches anyway, then you ought to just do what we do and have qualifiers. Which we are having today, as it happens; by today's end, we will know who the eight Haven teams moving on to the tournament proper are."

"So I guess we can't use the amphitheatre for last minute practice," Nora said.

"Perhaps tomorrow," Ren suggested.

"Are you concerned?" Pyrrha asked Arslan.

Arslan snorted. "Give me some credit, Pyrrha; I could take on the entire competition on my own. With one hand behind my back." She paused. "Okay, I'd probably need both hands, but I could definitely take any other team in Haven on my own."

"I heard that," Sun said, as he and Neptune entered along with what had grown from a trickle to a flood of students coming in, filling up the tables with alacrity. "Don't forget, we're going to be in those qualifiers too."

"Yeah," Arslan said. "I know."

Sun snorted. "No respect at all," he muttered, walking around the table until he was behind Blake. His tail flicked out to tickle her on the cheek. "Hey, Blake."

Blake smiled even as she rolled her eyes. "Good morning to you too, Sun."

Sun sat down beside her and kissed her on the cheek. "Morning."

"And good morning to you too, little lady," Neptune said, catching sight of Amber and beginning to walk around the table. "I don't think I've seen you—"

Sunset put one arm to arrest his progress. "She's not in the mood, and neither are we."

Neptune hesitated for a second. Amber looked more confused than anything else, although Dove had put one arm around her and taken her hand with his.

"Oh," he said. "Oh, I see; it's like that, right. Sorry, dude; I didn't mean to … just taking a chance, you know."

He sat down next to Sun.

Sunset was of the opinion that Amber shouldn't need to be explicitly in a relationship in order to be spared Neptune's dubious charms — it was called showing some restraint. And respect, for that matter. And possessing just a smidgeon of dignity — but she refrained from saying so.

"Ignore Neptune," Sun said. "He's just … very friendly when it comes to meeting new girls, I mean, new people. I'm Sun, by the way."

"I'm Amber," said Amber. "Are you … Blake's boyfriend?"

Sun grinned boyishly as his tail once more snaked up over Blake's shoulder, resting upon it in place of a hand. "Yeah, yeah, I guess you could say that."

Amber looked at them both, and for a moment, it looked as though she might say something, but then she thought better of it and resumed eating her porridge.

"So," Blake said, looking at Sun. "You've got Vytal qualifiers today."

"Yep," Sun replied.

"You don't seem very tense about it," Blake observed.

"I'm not," Sun said. "It's going to be a piece of cake."

"Don't get overconfident," Neptune warned him. "Some teams actually had a semester together because their team leader didn't ditch them to run off to Vale early."

Sun laughed nervously. "Okay, but those teams are all a bunch of losers; who is there who's better than us?"

Arslan cleared her throat loudly.

Neptune said, "Maybe teams that aren't at war with one another? You know Scarlet literally hates you at this point, right?"

"Hates you?" Ruby said. "Why would anyone hate you?"

"Scarlet should be thanking me," Sun declared. "I'm leaving, and he can become team leader, just like he always wanted."

You're doing what now?

"Leader of a three-man team, a weakened team," Neptune replied. "Plus, thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for condemning me to serve under Scarlet's leadership."

"You said you were cool with it," Sun said.

"I said that because I'm a good friend, and I want to see you happy," Neptune said. "It doesn't mean I want to see you leave."

"You're leaving?" Yang asked. "Where are you going?"

"Don't you want to be a huntsman any more?" Ruby added.

"He's moving to Atlas to be with Blake," Neptune said.

"Well of course he is," Amber murmured. "How could he do anything else?"

Nobody took any notice of her, in part because, at that point, the remaining members of Team RSPT arrived, as the cafeteria was really starting to fill up.

"Hey, everyone, are these seats free, and are you really moving to Atlas?" Rainbow asked, already holding a breakfast tray in her hand.

"Good morning, Amber," Twilight said, "Did you sleep well last night?"

"Good morning," Amber replied. "I … slept."

"Hmm," Twilight murmured. "I see."

I suppose she'll have to take a look at Amber today at some point, Sunset thought.

"The seats are free," Yang said, in answer to Rainbow's question, "and your other question is one we're all kind of waiting to hear the answer to from Sun."

"Thanks," Rainbow said, as she, Twilight, and Ciel all sat down. "I gotta admit I'm surprised. I know I told you to work out what you wanted to do, but I didn't expect you'd do that." She paused. "I have to say, I'm not entirely sure you're gonna fit in at Atlas."

"Then it's a good job I'm not going to Atlas, certainly not to Atlas Academy," Sun said. "I'm moving to Mantle."

"'Mantle'?" Sunset repeated. "You're moving to Mantle?"

"I didn't know you'd ever been to Mantle," Rainbow said.

"I don't need to go to a garbage dump to see that it is, in fact, a garbage dump," Sunset declared magisterially.

"Speaking as someone from Mantle, you are … far more correct than I should like," Ciel admitted.

"Precisely," Sunset said. "Mantle is one of those places where nobody you meet who comes from there is ever homesick in the slightest."

"Come on, guys, let's not discourage Sun," Yang said. "Blake, did you know about this?"

Blake nodded. "Sun told me about it a little while ago."

"So you are giving up on becoming a huntsman?" asked Ruby.

"I … yeah," Sun admitted. "Yeah, I guess I am. Becoming a huntsman or a huntress is fine and all, but it'll take another three years before I can actually get out and start helping people, but there are people in Mantle who need help now, and it's great that Blake wants to change the world, but while she's trying to do that, somebody needs to stand up for the little guy on the street."

"Mantle could do with a hero," Ciel murmured. "The current one is unsatisfactory for a whole host of reasons."

"How do you mean?" asked Sun.

"Are you going to bang on about how bad Atlas is every chance you get?" demanded Rainbow Dash.

"No."

"And are you going to kill people?"

"No!" Sun cried.

"Then you'll be doing better than Robyn Hill already," Rainbow said. She held out one hand. "Best of luck, Sun."

Sun took her hand and shook it. "Thanks."

Rainbow grinned. "You proud of him, Blake?"

"It's Sun's decision," Blake said. "It's not for me to approve or disapprove of it."

"But yes?" Rainbow guessed.

Blake smiled, her mouth closed but the corners of her lips rising noticeably. "Yes."

"I guess that does sound pretty cool," Ruby said. "It's a pity you can't graduate and get your licence, but it's still pretty cool what you're doing."

"It's also technically illegal," Twilight pointed out.

"Doing the right thing is illegal?" Ruby asked, her voice rising with a touch of disbelief.

"Unauthorised use of weapons is illegal," Twilight explained. "And so is carrying out huntsman activity without a licence. Sun … you do know that if you do this, you'll be a criminal, don't you?"

"No," admitted Sun, "I didn't know that, because it's not like that in Mistral, and it's certainly not like that in Vacuo, but … if doing the right thing is illegal—"

"Then the law is wrong," Ruby added.

"They've got a point, Twi," Rainbow said. "I've said to Ciel that if Mantle could fight back, maybe it wouldn't be in the state it's in, but even if I'm wrong about that … what kind of system looks at the guy actually trying to help and solve problems and says 'no, you're the bad guy'?"

"I never said that Sun was the bad guy," Twilight replied. "I just wanted to make sure that he understood what he was getting into."

"Mantle's a rough town?" asked Arslan.

"A rough city," Ciel corrected her, "but yes."

"With problems?"

"More than a few," said Ciel.

"And the police," Arslan went on, "ineffectual or corrupt?"

"The former, I hope," Ciel answered.

"Then once you start doing good, people will be too grateful for someone helping them out to turn you in," Arslan said, "but until you can establish yourself, you need to find a community that will protect you, people who know what you're planning to do and agree with it and are willing to shield you, not just from the cops, but from any enemies you make as well."

"How—?" Pyrrha began.

"Not every vigilante who ever tried to take on the gangs could retreat up to a big house on the upper slopes," Arslan explained. "Some of them had to find ways to survive down below, amongst the people they were fighting for."

"Huh," Sun said. "Well, uh, thanks for the advice."

"So," Blake said, "I suppose, in a way, this Vytal Festival will be your … last hurrah?"

"More like last fling of fun before he gets down to business," Neptune replied. "Which is why you should be taking these qualifiers more seriously than you are. This will be our only shot at this; we don't want to blow it."

"I told you, we'll be fine," Sun assured him.

"Is this tournament the most important thing about the Vytal Festival?" Amber asked. "More than anything else?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Ruby said. "Maybe it shouldn't be, but it is. It's the big draw; it's what most people show up for."

"I see," Amber said, quietly and without much enthusiasm. "You … are you … you're not competing, are you, Dove?"

"No," Dove said. "No, my team … we … no, I'm not. We're not."

"I am glad," Amber said, leaning on his arm and shoulder. "Even if they say it's safe, I … I couldn't bear it if you were hurt. I don't think I could bring myself to watch."

"But there's lots of other stuff going on too," Ruby said. "Even if the tournament is what interests a lot of people, if you're not interested in it at all, then it doesn't matter; there's still plenty for you. I'm sure that … okay, maybe not everyone here has some great Vytal Festival memories, and not all related to the tournament, either."

Pyrrha put her hands on the table. "I was eight years old," she said, "when my mother took me to Atlas to watch the finals of the thirty-fifth Vytal Festival."

"But the thirty-fifth Vytal Festival would have been ten years ago," Ruby pointed out.

"And it was my birthday yesterday," Pyrrha said. "I'm eighteen now."

She had spoken mildly, gently, without a hint of reproach in her voice, but Sunset felt grievously reproached nonetheless. "Pyrrha! Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't want to make a fuss," Pyrrha replied. "Especially with … there was a great deal going on yesterday."

"But come on," Jaune said. "You should have mentioned it; we would have done something."

"We should do something now," Amber declared. "Something to celebrate."

"I didn't mention it in order to—"

"Maybe not, but you have mentioned it," Jaune said. "Which means it's too late to back out now."

"There's really no need to do anything."

"But we want to do something," Jaune said.

"And besides the want, which we do want," Sunset said, "there is a need: the need to salve our consciences."

"Your consciences have nothing to feel bruised about," Pyrrha replied.

"Give up, Pyrrha," Amber instructed her firmly. "This is going to happen. I, for one, won't hear of anything else."

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. "May I at least finish what I was about to say?"

"You may," Sunset allowed. "But why did you go to Atlas that year, and so young too?"

"That was the last time it felt like Mistral had a shot," Arslan said.

"Indeed," Pyrrha agreed. "That was the tournament where the Lady Terri-Belle, daughter of the Steward, swept all before her into the finals. The city dared hope that she would be the one to reclaim Mistral's glory, and many of the great and good made the flight to Atlas to witness for themselves, not only my mother but the Lord Steward himself and many others."

"Really?" Sunset said. "Can we expect the great and good to descend on Vale now?"

"I doubt it," Pyrrha replied. "Regardless of what may be said, I think that many people are privately steeling themselves against disappointment; they will not want to raise their hopes too high again. Besides which, I am … in any case, no matter the disappointing outcome of the final match, it was my first time in Atlas, and Mother indulged me in exploring the city somewhat."

"What did you think?" asked Blake.

Pyrrha smiled softly. "It was like being in a fairyland," she said. "So many lights, so many bright colours, so many amazing sounds. The robots were, I admit, rather intimidating as they clanked along, but even they … it really was as though I had stepped into another world, completely different to the one that I'd left behind. Like The Girl Who Fell Through the World, except I had fallen upwards into the sky. I'd never had to wrap up so warm before in my life; the mink fur trim of my coat was so soft against my neck and cheeks. We went to a concert, of various musically inclined Atlas students, at the Nicholas Schnee auditorium, where I must admit that the acoustics were better than anywhere in Mistral. I suppose it was designed with very scientific principles in mind. And the fireworks were—"

"Fired from the cruisers," Rainbow said.

Pyrrha looked at her. "You were there?"

"Not for the thirty-fifth — I didn't get up to Atlas for another couple of years —" Rainbow said, "but you could see the fireworks — some of them, anyway — from down below in Low Town, they were so bright. Me and Gilda sat on the roof of my parents' house, sharing a blanket, huddled up together like penguins or something, just watching all the bright colours exploding in the sky. Plus … that's how they always do the fireworks when Atlas holds the Vytal Festival."

"A fact which makes it no less impressive in my memory, those immense volleys of fireworks," Pyrrha said. "My … my father had just passed away that year, but while I wished he was with us, at the same time … the sadness, it was as if it belonged to a different world, if that makes the least bit of sense. The world that I had left behind, if only for a while."

"It feels like that even without travelling," Arslan said. "Not least because it's a public holiday in Mistral; everyone gets the whole thing off, no school, no work."

"Really?" Jaune asked. "The entire festival?"

"Bread and the games," Pyrrha murmured.

"Not so much bread, but yeah, definitely games," Arslan said. "Our lords and masters have to keep the people happy somehow."

"We used to watch the tournament in Applejack's barn," Twilight said. "With a big screen up, everyone sitting on the ground or on bales of hay."

Rainbow grinned. "Well, that's how we watched the thirty-eighth festival, but we went to Atlas for the one two years ago."

"Yeah, I know," Twilight said. "But I preferred the thirty-eighth. Remember how Pinkie decided that we should throw our own fair on Sweet Apple Acres?"

"Yes!" Rainbow cried. "Did she ever tell you where she'd gotten all of those stuffed animals?"

"No," Twilight said. "She said she'd never tell."

"'Stuffed animals'?" Amber asked.

"Yeah," Rainbow said. "We worked out that if we were going to do a fairground, then we needed some fairground prizes, and Pinkie just says 'leave it to me,' and then the next thing we know, she has this giant truckload of stuffed animals that she got from somewhere, and she's all like 'do you think this will be enough'?"

"And the funniest part was that it was just enough," Twilight said. "As in, every single bear or bunny or whatever was won by somebody. Exactly. Not a single one left, not a single kid or anyone else disappointed. Exactly as many animals as were needed for prizes."

"I swear, Pinkie is doing the exploding sprinkles thing with dust," Rainbow said. "Her real semblance is precognition or something."

"The point is that there's plenty to enjoy about the Vytal Festival, even if you're not interested in the tournament," Ruby said. "I guarantee that you'll make some wonderful memories." She put her hand on Penny's shoulder, as if to include her along with Amber without needing to say it.

Amber looked at Pyrrha, and then at Ruby, and then let her eyes sweep all across the table.

"Well, if you say so, then what am I supposed to do but trust you?" She paused, smiling for a moment without speaking. "But what are we going to do about Pyrrha's birthday?"

"There's really no need to do anything," Pyrrha insisted.

"But I want to do something," Amber replied. "What do you usually do to celebrate your birthday?"

"Mother would usually hold a ball or a soiree at home, and it was frightfully dull," Pyrrha replied. "This should be…" She trailed off.

Amber cocked her head to one side. "Pyrrha?"

"If it is my choice," Pyrrha said, "then why don't we go into Vale, the seven of us: you, me, Jaune, Dove, Sunset, Ruby, and Penny. We can do some shopping, get something to eat, have a nice day out."

A nice day for Amber as much or more than for you.

Amber's eyes brightened a little. "That sounds wonderful," she said. "But are you sure that it's what you want?"

"This is absolutely what I want," Pyrrha stated firmly.

"Then I can hardly wait!" Amber cried. "Actually, I'm afraid … could I do one thing before we go?"

"Certainly," Pyrrha said, "what is it?"

"I'd like to meet Dove's friends."

XxXxX​

Tempest stared at the table on the other side of the cafeteria, where Teams SAPR and RSPT were sitting with all their hangers-on — and her.

It was not possible. How was it possible? Tempest had known she wasn't dead, but … sitting here?

Doubt beset Tempest. Maybe it wasn't her, maybe it was someone else who just happened to look like her.

But the scars…

"Tempest?"

Tempest realised that she had been staring too long and had drawn the attention of Starlight Glimmer, who was watching her curiously.

"Is everything okay?" Starlight asked.

"Yes," Tempest said quickly. "But … I need to step outside for a little bit."

"Why?"

"I need to take care of something," Tempest said. "Something personal I've just remembered. Don't wait for me." Not that they would, fortunately; Tempest wasn't popular enough with the other three members of the team for that. Starlight, the smartest of the three, might wonder what it was that she had only just remembered and why she had to dash off and attend to it now, but even she would forget about it soon enough.

Tempest didn't give Starlight time to answer; she just walked away, striding the opposite direction to the great mass of students flooding into the dining hall, pushing her way through the crowd with a swift, determined stride, turning and twisting to get through gaps, sometimes just bodily forcing people out of her way, never slowing or stopping.

She escaped the cafeteria into the morning sunshine that fell upon her as she stalked across the courtyard, her boots thumping like a drumbeat on the stone, passing beneath the shadow of the black stone statue, walking away, out of the courtyard and onto the grassy lawn that lay beyond.

She found a secluded spot where no one was. Everyone was either on their way to breakfast, or else they were lying in this morning; there was no one on the grass and nobody underneath the shady tree where Tempest stopped, hiding out of sight of the students crossing the courtyard on their way to the dining hall.

It was her. It was her, Tempest was certain of that: Amber, the Fall Maiden, the one whom Cinder had failed to kill.

What should, in hindsight, have been seen as a forewarning of the litany of Cinder's failures yet to come.

And yet, she should have been, if not dead, then certainly … not alive. Not walking around, not sitting at a table, not eating, not looking absurdly happy.

How had they done it? Tempest had really no idea. But they had, because that was the Fall Maiden, she was convinced of it. They had revived her somehow, despite the wounds that Cinder had inflicted on her.

And, with Cinder banished from Beacon, they thought it safe to let her wander around.

Possible with Team SAPR ranged around her like bodyguards.

And Bon Bon's teammate for some reason; Tempest would need to ask her about that to find out what was going on there. He had not been let into Ozpin's confidence, had he?

It mattered little. What mattered was Amber's … return, to all intents and purposes.

A slow smile spread across Tempest's face. Yes. Yes, she had the plan now; it was all coming together in her mind: first, Amber would die, and the two halves of the sundered Fall Maiden power would be reunited in Cinder. And then, with a little help, Cinder would die, and who should be in her thoughts, who should she see last but Tempest Shadow, who would inherit the magic from Cinder in turn and be a Fall Maiden in whom Salem could rely?

For many seasons more.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Maiden Guard

​

Amber stopped, looking down at her hands even as she clasped them together for a moment, then started fussing with the golden band upon her wrist.

Ruby and Dove, walking on either side of her — it was a little awkward that someone had to go with Amber to be introduced to Dove's friends, but of the four members of Team SAPR, it was only really Ruby who could claim any connection to the members of Team BLBL, even if that connection was to Dove, not to Lyra or Bon Bon; it was still better than the way that they hated Sunset — stopped.

"Amber?" Ruby asked. "Is everything okay?"

Amber didn't answer her. She just kept on playing with her bracelet.

"Hey," Ruby said softly, reaching out to touch Amber's arm. "Amber?"

"Amber," Dove said also, putting his arms around and on her shoulders. "Amber, what's wrong?"

Amber looked at him. "These are your friends," she said. "They supported you for a year, while you thought I was … when you didn't know where I was. What if they don't like me?"

"Don't be ridiculous; they'll love you."

"What if they don't?" Amber asked.

"You won't know if you don't meet them," Ruby pointed out. "I guess I can understand why you're nervous, since Dove is so close to them and they're his teammates, but … meeting new people can be tough, but if you don't do it, then you'll never meet anybody. Everyone is new to you at some time or other. Yesterday … was it really only yesterday?"

Amber thought for a moment. A little giggle escaped. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I think it was."

"Huh," Ruby said. "Long day, wasn't it?"

"Longer for you, I think," Amber replied.

"Longest for Sunset," Ruby replied. "Anyway, the point is … the point is that, yesterday, we were strangers to you; you didn't know Sunset, or Pyrrha, any of us. But now you're good friends with both of them." A year ago, I didn't know Sunset or Pyrrha, and now they love me so much they fight with me all the time, and I love them even when they're making me mad.

After all, if she didn't care what they thought, then … well, she wouldn't care what they thought, would she? It was only upsetting because it mattered to her, just like if they didn't care about Ruby, then they'd let her do whatever she wanted, no matter how dangerous they thought it was.

While I…

If I didn't care about Pyrrha at all, I wouldn't have hit uncle Qrow.

I wouldn't have felt bad about the way that I…

I do care. I just care about other stuff as well. More, maybe. Because there are things that are … more important.

That was the crux of it. Ruby had the impression that Pyrrha and Sunset viewed themselves as the collective Rolands to her Olivia, talking her out of throwing her life away in a pointless battle.

Ruby, on the other hand, sometimes thought that Pyrrha could play the Olivia perfectly well herself, while Sunset…

Sunset had a touch of the Percy about her. No, no, that was not quite right; Sunset wouldn't put her own desires above the kingdom, she wouldn't make love to the prince and put the whole kingdom at risk because she couldn't control her own passions.

No, Sunset would come across Percy and Tristan making love and quietly shut the door and say nothing about it to anyone because they were in love, and they were her friends, and what was more important than that?

The kingdom, the kingdom was more important than that, and the alliances the king had made with his son's hand in marriage.

But that was all just a little bit beside the point; the point was … well, the point was that Sunset and Pyrrha didn't aggravate her out of dislike, still less from sheer indifference, but out of care, and it was because she cared in turn that Ruby was irritated by them; they would have been a lot easier to ignore otherwise.

And the fact that she hadn't rushed to save Pyrrha's life no matter the cost or consequence, didn't mean that there was no care in her heart — it was simply one of many cares, and being numerous, it fell to her to sort and to consider them by magnitude of consequence.

Hopefully, Amber's new relationships would be a lot less complicated, but the real point was that simply because they were new now was no sign that they could not grow and blossom in the time that Professor Ozpin meant to allow her.

"Now, you don't know Lyra or Bon Bon," Ruby went on, hoping that Amber hadn't noticed the pause, "but who knows how close you'll feel about them tonight?"

Amber looked down at Ruby, in a literal sense. "You … you're right, of course. I mean, even Dove was a stranger to me, once upon a time." She smiled. "There was a time we hadn't even met in dreams."

Ruby frowned. "'Met in dreams' … is that your semblance, Dove? That would explain why I've never seen it."

Dove chuckled. "No, that isn't my semblance. That's just an expression. It's something that I heard Amber singing when I first met her, when the sound of her voice drew me to her: I know you—"

"I walked with you once upon a dream," Amber murmured.

"You … heard her singing?" Ruby asked.

Dove nodded. "I was hunting in the woods — for game, not for grimm; I used to set snares for rabbits and bring them home for mother to cook for supper, with herbs and a few nice potatoes. Anyway, I was in the woods, and I heard this voice, this sweet voice, the most lovely voice that I had ever heard or will ever hear." Amber smiled to hear that and leaned into Dove, resting her back against his chest, reaching up to take his hand and arm. "I heard her singing there, and I … I knew I had to find her, the owner of that sweet voice."

"Huh. That…"

Honestly, what impressed Ruby the most was the way that Dove was able to say all that with a straight face and not a trace of embarrassment. She wasn't sure that Jaune would have been able to do that. Also, it was pretty cute, in a sappy way. It made her smile, anyway.

"That's sweet." She looked at Amber. "Was it?"

"Honestly, it was a little startling at first," Amber confessed. "But Dove was so gentle and so charming that … yes. Yes, it became very sweet, very quickly."

"Aww," Ruby said. "It's great that you were able to find one another again." Which you wouldn't have, if it wasn't for Sunset.

That … that was something else. Ruby had called Sunset weak, unable to face up to hard decisions, to the tough choices that a huntress sometimes needed to make. And that was … well, it wasn't entirely wrong, was it? Sunset didn't like making tough choices; she played it safe, and she kicked her cans down the road if at all possible in the hope that something would turn up between now and then that would make her life easier. And she had saved Amber. She had saved Amber … because of that. Because she wasn't willing to confront the hard choice.

Ruby, confronted with the apparent necessity of Pyrrha's sacrifice, had balked at the idea of forcing Pyrrha to give up her life even for the sake of the world; she had — through Penny's sage counsel — accepted that it had to be Pyrrha's decision, of Pyrrha's will, but she would not have thought … she would not have considered that it might be possible to overthrow the grim equation with which they had been confronted: Pyrrha's life, or the loss of the Maiden's power whole and entire.

It was Sunset, unable to accept the hard choice, unwilling to make it herself or allow it to be made by others, who had saved Amber's life, who had made it so that she and Dove could be reunited, could smile and kiss and tell the sappy story of how they met.

Ruby would have … well, it was not clear what would have happened if Pyrrha had gotten into that machine; possibly, Amber would have lived in Pyrrha's body, having taken it over. But equally, Amber might well have died.

Instead, she had her life.

The life of a girl who had not chosen this, who had not sought out danger, a girl who was loving and beloved, a girl who was … who had been in need of salvation and now was in need of protection. Was that a life to throw away?

I guess … I guess the answer is that sometimes there is another way, and you just have to be willing to think.

Maybe that's as important as being ready to die, is being able to think about how not to.

"Ruby?" Amber asked. "Is everything alright?"

"What?"

"You seem … a little sad," Amber said, bending down a little so that she was closer to Ruby's face. "Is everything alright? Is there anything that I can do to—?"

"Everything's fine," Ruby said quickly. "Everything is, really, it's fine; you don't need to worry about me." She took a step back, casting around for a change in subject. "So, Dove, what is your semblance, or have you not found it yet?"

"Oh, no, I know what it is," Dove replied. "It's not just not very useful in Professor Goodwitch's class, at least not in a one on one fight."

"But it is in a team fight?" asked Ruby.

"I hope so," Dove said. "My semblance … I create images of myself, not clones, or at least I don't think of them as clones; they're more like … statues of me, or images, like I said, and I create them in front of people that I care about, and each one absorbs a hit from an enemy, and then it's gone." He paused. "I haven't worked out a name for it."

"Can I see it?" Ruby asked. "In action, I mean?" She walked a little bit away from them. "Can you create one of these images in front of Amber? We all know you care about her, after all. Or does she actually need to be in danger?"

"No, I can do it," Dove said. "If you don't mind?"

"No," Amber murmured. "Not at all. It isn't dangerous, is it?"

"No."

"Then I'd like to see your semblance, too," Amber said.

Dove smiled slightly. "Well, alright then, if you both insist."

His body seemed to glow for a moment, a bright light shining out of him as if his aura had only just been activated — maybe it had; it wasn't as though it was strictly needed around the school, although personally, Ruby couldn't see any advantage to deactivating your aura ever; you might as well just go around with it always on; it wasn't like there were any disadvantages — before it faded, and he went back to normal. But, even as the light faded from Dove, a truly shining Dove, a still and silent Dove as bright as starlight, a radiant Dove who looked as though he were made of some strange combination of marble and glass, who seemed to be either or both gleaming or glowing, from an external or internal light, this vision of Dove appeared before Amber, between her and Ruby, sword not drawn but body placed between beloved Amber and any who would do her harm.

"That," Ruby murmured. "That's really pretty, apart from anything else. That's much prettier than Blake's clones."

"Perhaps a bit less useful," Dove murmured.

"I wouldn't say that; don't sell yourself short," Ruby replied. "I mean, they basically do the same thing; they take hits. Speaking of which, can't you use this on yourself?"

"As I said, it's only on people that I care about," said Dove.

"But don't you care about yourself?" Ruby asked.

"Yes, but…" Dove paused. "What would be the point? It uses aura to create these images, so what's the difference between taking a blow to my aura or spending aura to create something to take the hit?"

"Well," Ruby said, "how much of your aura does it take to create one of these?"

"I can make fourteen of them in all," Dove said. "Trying to make a fifteenth breaks my aura."

"Okay, so that's…" Ruby did the maths in her head. "Seven percent of your aura for each one? I think that's about right. Anyway, does it absorb any attack? Has any blow or anything gone through one of these and kept on coming?"

"Not that I know of?"

"Well, then let's say that an attack was coming at you that would take off ten percent of your aura," Ruby suggested, "It would make more sense to create an image with seven percent of your aura and have that take the blow instead, wouldn't it?"

"I hadn't thought of it like that," Dove said softly. "But I suppose that makes sense."

"And have you thought about augmenting them with dust, the way Blake does?" Ruby went on.

"No, I hadn't thought of that either."

"You should definitely try that," Ruby insisted. "I'm not sure how it would work, or if you could actually do it, but you should try it, absolutely, because if it does work, it'll be a big help."

Amber giggled, covering her mouth with one hand.

Ruby chuckled. "Sorry, I can get a little carried away."

"Don't apologise," Amber told her. "It's good that Dove has someone he can talk about this sort of thing with. I mean, after all—"

"He can't talk to you," Ruby murmured.

"I … don't really want to," Amber said. "I learned how to fight because I was made to, but … but I don't really want to … the fact that you all seem to find it so much fun, that you want to fight in a tournament even when you don't have to fight is … I don't understand it."

"I get what you mean; it is kind of pointless," Ruby said. "But it means that we get to have a festival where everyone comes together to celebrate, so that's worth it in my book. If it was me, though, I probably wouldn't bother with the tournament; it's just that it means a lot to Sunset and Pyrrha, so I'll do my part in the first round and then let them have their fun in the two-on-two rounds."

She paused a moment. "But, anyway, if you don't want to talk about this stuff, then we won't. We're supposed to be going to Team Bluebell's room anyway."

She started to turn away, then stopped. "But Dove?"

"Yes?"

"Shining Armour," Ruby said, "that's the name of your semblance."

Dove hesitated for a moment, before a smile blossomed upon his round face. "Well, if you say so, then how can I object?"

They resumed walking, and soon, they stood in front of Team BLBL's dorm room, the room that Dove now shared with Lyra and Bon Bon.

"Would you mind waiting outside for a moment, with Ruby?" Dove asked. "I'll leave the door open, I just … this is sort of … I just need to have a quick word with them first?"

"All right," Amber said, smiling. "But don't be too long, I don't want to be standing out here all day."

"I'll be quick, I promise," Dove said, kissing her on the cheek before he fished his scroll out of a pouch on his belt and used it to open up the dorm room door.

Ruby, stood behind Amber as they waited outside, couldn't see exactly what was going on in the dorm room, but she could hear everything that was going on, mostly because no one was making any effort to keep their voices down.

"Well, look who's back," Lyra said.

"Good morning, Lyra," said Dove.

"You have to wish us a good morning now because you got up and snuck out before we were awake," Bon Bon remarked.

"If you can sleep through me getting showered and dressed, may I suggest that that's as much a you problem as it is a me problem," Dove said dryly.

"No, the fact that you felt the need to slip out without saying a word is definitely a you problem," Bon Bon replied. "Where have you been?"

"You've got that smell on you again," Lyra declared. "Did you sneak out early to meet up with Pyrrha before Jaune was up?"

What smell? Pyrrha? What are they talking about? Ruby wondered. She sniffed the air. There was a smell, but it wasn't coming from Dove; it was closer, coming from—

Amber using Pyrrha's shampoo! Their hair smells the same!

Even so, to think that Pyrrha would cheat on Jaune, really?

"Nothing is going on between me and Pyrrha, and can you both be quiet for a moment?" Dove demanded. "There is … there is someone who I would like you to meet. And someone who wants to meet you, although she might not after hearing the way that you've been carrying on. Lyra, Bon Bon, meet Amber."

Amber stepped delicately into the room, her hips swaying as she put one foot directly in front of the other, her heel almost touching the toe of the foot before it. The light glimmered off her shoulder pauldron and her armoured boots. She held one hand out by her side and the other poised above her heart as she curtsied.

"Good morning," she said. "It's wonderful to meet you both."

Dove gestured to her, a beaming smile upon his face. Ruby lingered in the doorway, waiting.

Lyra and Bon Bon, sitting side by side on one of the closer beds, were silent. The whole dorm room was silent, waiting just as Ruby herself was waiting.

Waiting for them to say something.

Their eyes were wide. Lyra's mouth was open.

"Amber," she repeated. "You … your Amber?"

Dove let out a little laugh. "I'm not sure I ought to say that."

Amber reached out, and took his hand. "You can, if you want to."

Dove bowed his head for a moment. "Then yes," he said, "my Amber."

"The Amber who was supposed to meet you here at Beacon?" asked Lyra.

"The very same," Dove said. "She has … we've found each other again, at last."

"Gods," Bon Bon whispered.

"That…" Lyra trailed off for a moment, looking to Bon Bon, and then back at Amber and Dove. She began to laugh, a joyous, gasping laugh as though she were short of breath before the laughter had even begun. She clapped her hands, clad in her riding gloves, together delightedly. "That's great! That's incredible!" She leapt up off the bed, her white cape flapping up above her shoulders and flying behind her. "That is … you must be the happiest guy in Remnant right now."

"It…" Dove looked away. "It feels that way, a little bit. I … there are times when I can't believe that Amber's real, that she's standing here, that she's holding my hand; and then there's another part of me that believes and feels like singing in consequence."

"Well if that's what you want, then don't let us stop you," Lyra said. "We're Canterlot Girls, after all; we're used to musical interludes. Does this mean we're about to see a happier, less brooding you?"

"You … might?" Dove ventured. "I don't feel like brooding at the moment. I can't think what I'd have to really brood about."

"You know, I can't imagine what that might be like, but I'm dying to see it," Lyra said. She turned back to Amber. "And Amber!"

"Yes?"

"Amber!"

"Yes?"

"Amber, it is so good to finally meet you!" Lyra cried as Ruby discreetly shut the door behind her, something she possibly should have done sooner.

Lyra went on, "Dove has told us so much about you, I feel like I know you already, but also, I can't wait to really get to know you. I want us to become best friends and…" She sniffed. "Wait a second, that smell—"

"Yes," Dove said, firmly and not without some relish. "Yes, that is what you smelled on me last night and just now; it was Amber that you smelled, not Pyrrha, and I will take my apology now, if you don't mind."

Lyra sputtered indignantly. "Well, why didn't you just say something last night?!"

"And possibly more to the point," Bon Bon said, rising to her feet more slowly than Lyra had done. "How? How is Amber here? I mean it's wonderful to meet you, and Dove seems happy, but … you were supposed to meet Dove here almost a year ago when school began. Where have you been? And why is Ruby here? Hi, Ruby, not that we don't want you here, but it is a bit strange."

"Honestly, it feels a little strange being here," Ruby remarked. "Like I'm intruding."

Bon Bon didn't remind Ruby that the door was behind her if she felt that way, but she did look at it over Ruby's head.

Dove put one hand around Amber's waist and drew her in closer to him. "That question … it isn't—"

"I was attacked," Amber said, bowing her head. "On my way … here. I was attacked, and I … I've been asleep for the past year, that's why Dove couldn't find me."

"'Asleep'?" Bon Bon repeated.

"In a coma," Ruby clarified.

"Oh," Lyra said. "Oh, honey, that … that must be where—" She started to reach out for Amber's face, and the scars that Cinder had left her there, but then she thought better of it and pulled her arm back. "Oh, honey," she repeated. "I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what … you must be so … I'm sorry. But … at least you're awake now, right?"

Amber smiled at her. "Yes," she said. "Yes, at least I'm awake now. I'm awake, and I'm here, and…"

"But … we checked the hospitals," Bon Bon pointed out. "We went to King's Hospital, Limehouse for serious grimm injuries, the district hospitals, we went everywhere, and we couldn't find any record of Amber as a past or present patient."

"Amber … wasn't in hospital," Dove admitted. "Ozpin was keeping her under personal observation."

Bon Bon frowned. "'Personal observation'?"

"Bon Bon," Lyra said, "we don't need to talk about this right now—"

"Amber … Amber…" Ruby began, stammering a little. She kind of wished that Sunset was here instead of her right now; Sunset was better at lying than she was. "Amber is…" How close to the truth can I get without telling them anything? She began to speak slowly, leaving extra-long pauses between words to give herself more time to think. "Amber is Professor Ozpin's niece, and he was worried that that was why she'd been attacked and that whoever attacked her would try again, which is why I'm here to protect her."

Bon Bon looked at her. "Professor Ozpin's niece? You're Professor Ozpin's niece?"

Amber nodded mutely.

"You didn't tell us that Amber was Professor Ozpin's niece!" Bon Bon reminded Dove.

"I didn't know," Dove said.

"How could you not know?"

"Bon Bon—" Lyra said.

"And you said you went to Professor Ozpin, and he—"

"He lied to me," Dove said, "because he didn't trust me, so he didn't want me to know the truth about Amber."

There was a moment of silence in the dorm room that was broken by Lyra saying, "What an ass."

Amber covered her mouth with one hand as she laughed. "Yes," she said, her shoulders shaking, "yes, Lyra, he is."

Bon Bon began, "But—"

"Bon Bon, enough with the questions," Lyra said. "Amber just got here, she's been through a lot, she doesn't have to … let's just be happy for Dove, okay? This … this is the best thing that has happened to this team all year. So let's just be happy, yeah? Why not?"

Bon Bon hesitated for a moment. "Why … why not, indeed." She smiled. "Congratulations, Dove, this … this is a miracle. Lyra's right, it really is the best, it … I'm sorry, Amber, I shouldn't have…" She shook her head. "We never actually introduced ourselves, did we? This is Lyra Heartstrings, and I am Bonnie Bonaventure, but you can call me Bon Bon. Please call me Bon Bon; it's so much easier." She held out her hand. "It's nice, no, it's wonderful, to meet you at last."

Amber took a step away from Dove and reached out to put her hands on Lyra and on Bon Bon's shoulders. "I … I wasn't here when I was supposed to be," she said, "and that wasn't my fault, but all the same, I wasn't here, and Dove didn't know where I was, and … and I've heard that you two were there for him more than anyone else. I've heard that the two of you have helped him so much this year, and for that, I will always be so very grateful. Thank you. Thank you so much, for everything."

Lyra grinned. "Well, you know, what are friends for? Besides, Dove's helped us out a lot as well."

"He's been there for us too, definitely," Bon Bon added. "We've been through some tough times of our own, and Dove…" She looked away, wiping at her eyes with one. "You're a lucky girl, you know that?"

Amber nodded. "Yes. Yes, I know that very well."

"Come here, Dove!" Lyra cried, throwing out her arm. "Bring it in!"

Dove approached, and Lyra grabbed him, pulling him and Amber and Bon Bon into a wrenching hug, Lyra's arms enfolding them as much as she was able, the arms of Dove and Bon Bon intertwining with her own, all of them embracing Amber.

Ruby smiled as she watched. If any team deserved some good luck after what they'd been through, it was Team Bluebell. Sure, Bon Bon had made some mistakes around Blake, but losing Sky, and … they deserved a break, and it looked like they were happy enough for Dove that it almost seemed as if they'd gotten one at last.

"This," Lyra said, "is going to be the start of something wonderful, I can feel it."

She took a step back, out of the group hug. "We should celebrate!" she cried. "We should … we could go into Vale, or—"

"I'm, I mean we're already going into Vale," Amber murmured. "With Pyrrha and Sunset and Ruby and Jaune. It's for Pyrrha's birthday."

"Oh," Lyra said, sounding a little down to hear it. "Well, that's okay, we'll come with you!"

"We will?" asked Bon Bon.

"Sure we will," Lyra said. "Why not?"

"Because it's for Pyrrha's birthday, and we aren't Pyrrha's friends?"

"Neither is Dove," Lyra pointed out. "It's not like we're crashing dinner for two or anything; it'll be fine." She looked at Ruby. "Won't it, Ruby?"

Ruby stared for a moment, a rictus smile spreading across her face. "Uh … of course!" she declared. "The more the merrier!"

XxXxX​

"'The more the merrier'?" Sunset repeated. "Really?"

Ruby was back in the SAPR dorm room; Amber was in the bathroom, freshening up with the help of Ciel; all four members of Team SAPR were in the main room, waiting for her to be done.

Ruby shrugged. "I … what was I supposed to say?"

"You could have said no," Sunset suggested.

"And why would Ruby have done that?" Pyrrha asked. "This … this is a good thing."

"It is?" Sunset asked sceptically.

"Yes," Pyrrha insisted. "Nobody really believes that this is about my birthday—"

"It is a bit," Jaune said.

"This is about Amber," Pyrrha went on, ignoring Jaune for once. "This is about her happiness, her … having a nice time. If that means spending time with Dove's friends as well as with us, then so be it. It's probably good that she get to know them. After all, they are Dove's friends."

Sunset sighed. "I … I suppose so," she muttered. "I just … yeah, okay, let's take them with us. It'll reduce the number of things that we can talk about even more—"

"I don't think Amber would really want to talk about Maidens in any event," Pyrrha said. "Do any of us want to talk about Maidens?"

"Not really," Ruby said.

"No," Jaune added.

"Fine, fine, you make excellent points," Sunset conceded, settling down onto the camp bed where she was sleeping for the moment. She looked up at Pyrrha. "So, what do you want to do today?"

"That's not for me to decide," Pyrrha responded.

"It's a little for you to decide," Jaune said, "At least. You should have told us. You should have told me."

"I'm sorry."

Jaune smiled. "You should have told me for you; it's your birthday, you're the one who missed out.

"On what?" Pyrrha asked him. "It was hardly the right time for … anything, was it? And besides, I really don't want a fuss; I had enough fuss made of me for the first—"

"Except you didn't," Jaune said, "did you?"

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. "What do you mean?"

"Those balls in the ballroom, those parties that your mom threw," Jaune said. "They weren't for you, were they?"

Pyrrha glanced down for a moment. "They were in my honour."

"But not for you," Jaune repeated, holding out one hand to her from where he sat on his bed.

A soft, close-mouthed smile played across Pyrrha's face as she took a step closer towards him, reaching out and taking his hand in hers. "Today isn't for me either," she said softly. "And whether or not you are right—"

"Which I am," Jaune said.

Pyrrha chuckled. "You think you know so much, don't you?"

"I think I've seen enough," Jaune said. "I think you've told me enough. And if I'm wrong, then tell me so."

Pyrrha said nothing, except to say, "This is Amber's day. I want her to enjoy herself."

Ruby smiled. "You like her, don't you?"

"She is somewhat after my own heart," Pyrrha admitted. "But I should hope to have some empathy for anyone in her position, be she ever so much or so little like myself, someone who has suffered, who has lost time, and who now finds herself in a strange place, surrounded by unfamiliar people." She frowned. "I do hope that she's alright."

"She'll be okay," Sunset assured her.

"Can you be certain of that?" asked Pyrrha.

"Everything that you just said can be managed," Sunset declared. "Well, certainly, finding yourself in a strange place surrounded by strangers … you can adjust to that. You learn the sort of place you're in, the people that surround you, eventually, you start to feel at home. Even the worst can manage that, and Amber … Amber is far from the worst. And she has Dove."

"And us," Ruby added.

"Yeah," Sunset agreed, nodding. "And us, for now."

"For now," Ruby repeated. "Where do you think they'll go? Amber and Dove? Where do you think that Professor Ozpin will send them?"

"Are we certain that Ozpin will keep his word and allow Dove to go with her?" asked Pyrrha.

"Yes," Sunset said firmly. "Yes, I am very sure. I would stake my … I would stake anything on it. He will not separate them. I … I wish that you would not—"

"I know that you trust him," Pyrrha murmured. "But I … it comes harder to me now."

"You were prepared to do as he asked," Sunset reminded her, "to throw your life away at his asking—"

"Because of need," Pyrrha said, "because there was so much at stake and such dire consequences, either for the world or for whoever else he turned to if I refused, but … Ozpin has the right to ask me to give up my soul for the sake of the world; he does not have the right to expect me to look on him with fondness afterwards, especially … with what we have learned of Amber, it becomes harder, not easier, to regard him with the trust and esteem in which I once held him. I regret that he no longer seems the man I thought he was."

"I'm a little surprised that you trust him, Sunset, to be honest," Jaune added.

Sunset rested her elbows upon her knees, clasping her gloved hands together. "I … I know that even the most beloved mentor can make mistakes, mistakes that can turn you against them, for a time. But I also know that, if you bear malice for those mistakes, if you attribute malice to what was well-meaning effort, if you turn your back on those who have your best interests at heart, then … you hurt yourself as much or more than you hurt them."

"No offence, Sunset, but Ozpin isn't your princess back home," Jaune said, swinging his legs off the bed so that he could sit up instead of lying on the mattress. "Princess … Celia?"

"Celestia."

"Right, Princess Celestia never asked you to get into a machine that would suck out another person's magic and combine it with yours, did she?"

Sunset shuddered a little. "No," she muttered. "No, she didn't."

"Then it's not the same," Jaune said. "What Ozpin was going to do to Pyrrha was … how are we supposed to trust him with our lives when he was willing to throw Pyrrha's life away?"

Sunset's brow furrowed. "I … I do not take that lightly," she said. "I do not esteem Pyrrha's life little, that … does that need to be said?"

"No," Pyrrha said. "No, of course not. You … without you, I would not be here, any more than Amber would be."

Sunset looked into Pyrrha's eyes, and it seemed to Pyrrha almost that there was a surfeit of gratitude there, as though Sunset had feared — a sudden fear, perhaps, but no less fearful for it — that Pyrrha might doubt it, might think that her sympathy for Ozpin meant some callousness towards Pyrrha and her fate.

Pyrrha knew better than that. She would always know better than that. Sunset … would always have her back. Her sympathy for Ozpin would not change that.

"I am glad to hear it," Sunset murmured. Her body sagged forwards a little. "And yet … what he asked of you, he did not ask lightly."

"And yet he asked it nevertheless," Pyrrha murmured.

"Yes," Sunset whispered. "Yes, he did. And so I will not try to persuade you to see him by a different light, but for myself … Princess Celestia trusts him. And I … I think … I think he is in a difficult position, and I think that Amber would benefit from … reconciling with him."

"She doesn't seem to think so," Ruby remarked.

Sunset looked at her. "And what do you think, Ruby? About Professor Ozpin?"

Ruby was silent for a moment. "I … I don't think that he took it lightly, what he asked of Pyrrha. If he did, then he wouldn't have cared when Sunset had another idea, but he did. I think that he really couldn't see another way; I think that he was doing what he thought was right, for the greater of Vale, of Remnant. He's … Rainbow Dash told me once that they have to trust General Ironwood because he can see the whole board, and they can't. I'm not sure that's right, I think that abdicates responsibility, but I think Professor Ozpin is trying to look at the whole board and make the best calls he can. That's not to say that he gets them right all the time, but he has good intentions."

"I would say that sounds fair enough," Sunset replied. "You know I think that hiding the Maidens is a bad thing—"

"Although on that point…" Pyrrha murmured, "does not the fate of Amber suggest that there are good reasons why it is so?"

"Is not Amber better protected by us than she was by secrecy?" Sunset replied.

"Amber … Amber's very nice and sweet," Ruby said, "but I'm not sure that she could ever really inspire anyone. I just … she doesn't seem the type, if you get what I mean?"

"Well, hmm, you … might have a point there," Sunset murmured. "But, as to your original question … I have no doubt that Dove will go with Amber wherever she goes, but where that will be … I can't say."

"There must be somewhere she can hide," Jaune said. "Vale's a big country."

"But now that Salem knows what she looks like, she'll have to stay pretty isolated," Ruby replied. "So it will be good that Dove's with her; he can buy the groceries and stuff and bring them back to wherever they're staying; Amber doesn't have to leave the house."

"That doesn't sound like much of a life," Jaune said.

No, indeed. A circumscribed life, a little life, a half life. A life bound within a walnut shell. A life trapped by your own gift, by that which ought to have been a great blessing upon you.

No wonder Sunset thinks it such a crime to hide the Maidens away; that this is the life they are condemned to is indeed a terrible thing, although in Amber's case, I am not sure what help there is for it.

"You're right, of course," Pyrrha murmured. "Wherever she goes, Amber will be … trapped, set apart from the world by her gifts, by that which ought to make her celebrated. I fear that there is nothing we can do about that."

"What about taking her to Mistral, as you promised?" Sunset asked.

"A promise I will keep," Pyrrha declared. "I will take her to Mistral, with all of you if you will come, and then show her the delights of my home, but … but I cannot keep her in my house forever and keep her out of Ozpin's reach at the same time as protecting her from Cinder and any others Salem might send. At some point … at some point, she will have to hide, and when she does … when she does, I fear her world will become a small thing indeed, with only Dove to brighten it. And so I think it is incumbent on us to make these days here the most pleasant for Amber that we can, to bring joy and sunshine into her life, while we may."

Sunset smiled, and so did Ruby, and when Pyrrha looked at Jaune, she found that he was smiling too.

"Yeah," Sunset said. "Yeah, that's something we can do, while we have the chance."

There was a knock on the door.

Sunset got up off the camp bed, her hand glowing green as she telekinetically turned the door handle and opened the door.

Rainbow Dash stood on the other side of the door, her wings strapped across her chest, her guns in the holsters at their hips.

"Hey, guys," she said, glancing around the room. "Not done yet then."

"Not yet, no," Sunset replied.

"I thought not," Rainbow said. "Rarity wouldn't be ready yet." She stepped inside the door room. "How did Lyra and Bon Bon take it?"

"Well," Ruby replied. "Very well, they … they looked at Amber like she was a miracle."

"And if ever a team deserved a miracle," Pyrrha murmured.

Rainbow glanced at her but didn't say anything. She returned her attention to Sunset. "Are you sure that this is a good idea? Taking Amber into Vale?"

"You don't think Cinder's going to be hiding behind a post box in the city, do you?" Sunset asked.

"She's more likely to be there than she is to be here at Beacon," Rainbow pointed out.

"Of course she is, but that would mean keeping Amber trapped here at school," Sunset said. "As Ruby pointed out, she'd miss all the fun bits of the Vytal Festival — especially since she's not interested in the combat tournament. And even if you ignore the Vytal Festival, then … it's no life having to huddle up here, is it? As your General Ironwood seemed to point out to Professor Ozpin when we discussed it with them all this morning."

"Really?" Rainbow asked. "He did?"

"It seemed that way," Sunset said. "He intervened at just the right moment."

Rainbow blinked. "Huh. I guess he took what we said when talking about Penny to heart. Good for him. And good for Amber too, I suppose, if the General says it okay—"

"And so does Professor Ozpin; it's all been cleared," said Sunset. "Something else you should know: Lyra and Bon-Bon are coming with us too."

Rainbow grinned. "Lyra invited herself, didn't she?"

"How did you know?" Ruby asked.

"Because I know her," Rainbow said. "Good luck, but it doesn't really change much from our perspective: Penny is going to be with you, Ciel and Blake will be keeping you covered from high vantage points, and I'll be up in the air with The Bus; if things get hairy, I'll give you a rapid extraction."

"Wouldn't Blake be better off down on the street with the rest of us?" asked Ruby.

"Ciel needs a spotter," Rainbow said. "I don't want her to be on her own. And besides, there's going to be the four of you and Penny and Team Bluebell; you should be able to manage without Blake until I can pick you up."

"I wasn't saying that we needed her," Ruby protested. "Just talking about where she could do the most good."

"I'm sure Blake will swing into action if we need her," Sunset said. "Literally. Is Twilight going to be in the airship with you?"

"No, Twilight is going to be observing everything with drones from the safety of the dorm room," Rainbow corrected. "Midnight is going to be my co-pilot."

"A computer program?"

"A smart computer program," Rainbow corrected. "Trust me, it's the right call. Twilight can help while staying out of harm's way, and anyway, I'll still be in the cockpit."

"And this is all just a precautionary measure," Sunset added. "We aren't actually expecting any trouble."

"Not for you guys, you're not Atlesians," Rainbow said. "So whatever's going on in Vale isn't going to bother you, hopefully." She paused for a moment. "What's she like?"

"Gentle and kind," Pyrrha said. "As you saw at breakfast."

"Yeah, yeah, I suppose I did," Rainbow said quietly. "Going through what she did, and she can still smile."

"She's got something to smile about," Sunset pointed out.

"Yeah," Rainbow agreed. "Yeah, I guess she has. And you're going to protect that smile, right?"

"We are," Sunset confirmed. "We all are."

Rainbow nodded. "When Ciel is done in there with Amber, tell her to meet me and Blake at The Bus; I'll drop them off and then take up a holding pattern until you're back at Beacon — or unless you need me, which you hopefully won't."

"But if we do, we'll shout for you," Sunset replied.

"Right," Rainbow said. She held out one hand. "Good luck out there."

Sunset took her hand, clasping it tight. "As you say, hopefully we won't need it."

Rainbow nodded again, then turned and left the room, shutting the door behind her.

"Do you think that's necessary?" asked Ruby. "Getting the Atlesians involved?"

"I would rather waste the time of Rainbow, Blake, Ciel, and Twilight," Sunset said, "than get Amber hurt. It probably will be a waste of their time, but … if not—"

"Then we will be glad of Rainbow's airship, no doubt," Pyrrha said. "Shall we tell Amber about this?"

"No, I don't think that's necessary," Sunset replied. "We don't want to scare her, after all."

"No," Pyrrha murmured. "No, of course we don't."

The bathroom door opened, and Amber emerged hesitantly, her steps slow and a little cautious, fussing with the bracelet on her wrist.

"How … how do I look?" she asked.

"You look lovely," Pyrrha said, because Ciel had done a splendid job when given the time to do it with no interruptions: she had practically covered Amber's scars to the point where they could scarcely be seen, and even then when you knew to look for them, Pyrrha doubted that casual observers would notice them at all. Not only that, but Ciel had given her a circle of green eyeshadow, more prominent above her eye but by no means invisible beneath it, which made her eyes glow like a goddess, the light, amber brown of her eyes rendered especially luminous by the green that surrounded it. Amber's eyelashes looked a little longer than Pyrrha remembered, which made her wonder if Ciel had put any extensions in, and her skin had a glossy shine to it, most prominently upon her cheeks, which had a slight touch of pink about them besides, but by no means absent elsewhere upon her face, which suited her very well. She gleamed in the light that fell upon her; how much more so would she gleam in sunlight once they got her into Vale?

"You really do look beautiful," Pyrrha added.

"It's pretty," Ruby said.

"You look great," said Jaune.

"Good job, Ciel," Sunset said.

"Yes, yes, she did do wonderfully, didn't she?" Amber asked. "I mean, if you're sure that it's all right."

"It is," Pyrrha said. "Dove will be delighted, I'm sure."

"Oh, I do hope so," Amber replied. "Thank you, Ciel, I … thank you."

"It is nice to know that if my career in the military were to end prematurely, I would have a future career as a beautician," Ciel said, dryly but not without a touch of bitterness in her voice.

Is she upset about something?

Not upset enough to stop her from coming here to do us this service, clearly.

I'm afraid that if she is upset, we must leave it to Rainbow Dash to address, rather than addressing it ourselves.

"In all sincerity," Ciel went on, some more warmth entering her voice, "I am most glad that you approve of the outcome. It was a pleasure to assist you in this."

"You're very kind to say so, but I don't see how it can really have been a pleasure," Amber replied. "Coming here to help someone else with their makeup."

"It was no trouble," Ciel assured her. "It was … a very pleasant distraction."

"I'll try and remember the things you said you were doing," Amber said. "I don't want to have to keep dragging you down here."

"No!" Ciel said, with a little more force that was strictly necessary. "I mean, um … you must do whatever you think is best for you of course, but … I will always be ready to assist you, if you have need of it." She looked away from Amber, clutching her makeup bag closer to her, looking very diffident and uncertain. "I … I should go. If you will excuse me, Amber, everyone."

She squeezed past Amber and then hurried out, moving at a rapid double-quick pace, not looking at anyone on her way out. She didn't even shut the door properly on her way out; it was left ajar, and Sunset had to shut it.

Before she did, they could hear her rapid footsteps moving away.

"Did I say something wrong?" Amber asked.

"No," Pyrrha assured her. "No, Amber, that … whatever that was was not about you."

"Oh, I see," Amber murmured. "Except I don't. I'm glad that I didn't upset her, but I wonder what was wrong with her."

"Perhaps you can ask her when you see her next," Sunset suggested.

"Perhaps," Amber said softly. "I hope she's alright; she was very nice to me to help me like this. Everyone's been so nice to me. It's … is all the world so full of kindness?"

"Not all full," Pyrrha said, "but there is more kindness in the world than there are murderers and thieves."

"But in these walls, even in this very room, you have met some of the kindest hearts that you will ever meet in Remnant," Sunset added.

Amber smiled. "I know it to be true. Brave new world." To Pyrrha, she said, "Are you … are you going out dressed like that?"

Pyrrha was wearing her huntress attire. "Yes," Pyrrha said. "Why?"

"I thought you might want to dress up, since it's your belated birthday," Amber replied. "Not that what you're wearing isn't pretty, but…"

Pyrrha chuckled. "I understand," she assured Amber, "and under different circumstances, I might wear a dress or something else, but I must be armed and well-prepared, we all must, in case…"

Amber swallowed. "In case … in case she is there? In case she comes for me?" She took a step back, and her whole body began to tremble.

"It's not likely," Sunset assured her. "In fact, it is incredibly unlikely. But as Pyrrha says, we have to be prepared; after all, Professor Ozpin has charged us with your safekeeping: the protection of that which is most precious to him in all of Remnant."

Pyrrha had some doubts that that could be true; surely, if Amber was the most precious thing to Ozpin in all the world, he would not have wanted to treat her soul thus, but her focus was more on Amber than on Sunset's laying it on a little thick.

Amber nodded, but by the way that she was breathing, the way that she reached out for the frame of the bathroom door as though she feared she might fall, it seemed that she was not entirely convinced by it.

Pyrrha and Sunset both moved towards her.

You were right not to tell her about the Atlesians, Sunset.

"It will be alright, Amber," Pyrrha whispered.

"We swear to protect you," Sunset said. "I didn't wake you up just to let harm come to you now."

Amber's gaze flickered between them. "It … it will be safe?"

"It will be safe," Pyrrha said. "Safe with us, Sunset and I, Ruby and Jaune, and Dove besides, and Lyra and Bon Bon too. We will keep you safe."

"We are your Maiden Guard, on this day and in the days to come," Sunset said. "You may depend on us."

"I … I trust you both," Amber said. "I trust all of you, but … especially you." She reached for them, and both Pyrrha and Sunset took her hands in theirs.

Amber closed her eyes. "You must think I'm very foolish."

"Not at all," Pyrrha assured her. "After what you've been through, it is natural to be afraid. But you are not alone, nor unprotected."

Amber nodded. "No," she whispered. "No, I'm not. I'm with you."

There was another knock at the dorm room.

"That will be Dove, most likely," Sunset said. "Are you ready to see him? Are you ready to go?"

Amber hesitated for a moment, before she let go of the hands of Pyrrha and Sunset and straightened herself, petting her hair with both hands.

She took a deep breath. "Do I still look alright?"

"Better than alright," said Pyrrha. "Like a vision."

This time it was Ruby who opened the door, to reveal Dove, dressed in his school uniform but with his sword at his hip, his shoes, by the look of them, freshly polished, and a blue half cape stretched somewhat awkwardly across his shoulders.

"Dove!" Amber cried. "You look very dashing."

"And you have grown no less beautiful since I saw you last," Dove said, striding into the room and cupping Amber's chin with his fingers as he gave her a gentle kiss upon the lips. "Are we ready to go?"

Amber glanced at Pyrrha. Pyrrha gave a shrug, meaning to suggest that it was Amber's decision.

"Yes," Amber said. "Yes, I'm ready. Let's go."

XxXxX​

"Thanks for agreeing to help us out with this," Rainbow said, as she strapped herself into the pilot's seat of her airship.

"You're welcome, Rainbow Dash," Midnight said, her voice emerging out of somewhere from the mouthless android body that she was piloting.

"Well, thank you as well, Midnight," Rainbow muttered, "but I was actually talking to Blake."

"I see," sniffed Midnight. "It's nice to know that my hard work is appreciated."

"Come on, it's not like you have anything better to do," Rainbow declared.

"Don't I?"

"No!" Rainbow said firmly. She paused for a moment, her eyes narrowing. "Do you?"

"I will have you know that I could be busy solving the mysteries of the universe right now," Midnight declared. "Instead, I'm here, preparing to help babysit some girl."

"Okay, in the first place, Amber is not just some girl; she's the Fall Maiden, that makes her important," Rainbow said. "And in the second place…" It occurred to her that this had kind of been the problem with Penny. It wasn't exactly the same thing — Midnight wasn't really alive; she was making a good job of acting like she was — but it was kind of the same thing, or close enough to make Rainbow pause. If General Ironwood could learn better, then so could she. She had to, if any good was to come from all this. "You know what, I'm sorry. You don't have to be here if you don't want to be. Go … solve the mysteries of the universe, whatever that means."

Midnight was silent for a moment. The android body leaned back in the chair. "I don't think I will," she said.

Rainbow blinked. "You won't?"

"I'd rather hang out with you, Rainbow Dash."

"Then … then why—"

"I don't want to be taken for granted, that's all," Midnight said airily.

Rainbow stared at her. "You are the weirdest computer I have ever met," she said.

Midnight folded her android arms across her chest. "Why thank you, Rainbow Dash; you always say the nicest things."

Rainbow continued staring at her. "You … you know what, fine, you have a right to make fun of me. Midnight?"

"Yes, Dash?"

"Can you put a face on that or something?" Rainbow asked, pointing with one finger towards the android faceplate, which was blank impenetrable black. "It's a little weird talking to … that. It's even weirder having it talk back."

"There isn't the functionality to project a face onto the face plate," Midnight replied. "Which suggests it has been somewhat unfortunately named. However—" She unfolded her arms, holding up the palm of her right hand, the palm onto which Rainbow could see now had been added a little holoprojector, a projector which glowed blue as a miniature hologram of Midnight appeared above it. She shook her long hair free. "Whew, good to be out of that suit. How's this? Better?"

Rainbow nodded. "Much better, yeah, thanks. You look like someone I can hold an actual conversation with."

"You mean that I'll be harder to ignore?"

"Much harder," Rainbow answered. "But right now, Blake really does deserve some thanks too for coming out here and giving up her time."

Rainbow looked over her shoulder, half turning in her seat to look behind her into the main body of the airship. The doors were open, letting the sunlight in from beyond to shine on Blake, making her white tunic seem brighter beneath her black waistcoat.

Blake was smiling with amusement, presumably at Midnight, and her voice was light as she said, "It's not a problem. In fact I daresay it's the least I signed up for when you told me about everything and I agreed to work for the General and Professor Ozpin."

"'The General'?" Midnight repeated.

"Midnight?" Blake asked.

"You called General Ironwood 'the General,'" Midnight pointed out.

Blake was silent for a second. Then a little kind of amused huff came out of her mouth. "I guess I did. Is that bad?"

"No," Rainbow said. "Just one more sign you're becoming one of us."

"Like the victim of a zombie bite," Midnight said.

"Hey!" Rainbow snapped. "Whose side are you on?"

"Never fear, Rainbow Dash; that was just a joke," Midnight assured her.

"It better be," Rainbow muttered.

"Anyway," Blake said, raising her voice just a little bit, "the progress of my assimilation aside, since I'm involved in this, it wouldn't exactly be right to beg off when everyone else is doing their part—"

"If by 'doing their part,' you mean enjoying a nice day out with all their friends," Midnight pointed out.

Blake ignored her. "And besides, it's not as though I had anything better to do today."

"You didn't fancy watching Sun qualify for the Vytal Festival, then?"

Blake frowned slightly. "To be honest … I'm a little worried that he won't. Team Sun feels … a little divided."

"I wish I could say I was surprised," Rainbow said, "but I'm not. But I also think you should have more faith."

"Good teamwork can overcome individual skill," Blake pointed out, "and individual skills can be undermined by poor teamwork."

"Yeah, but there are eight spots, and even with their problems, I can't think of eight teams better than Team Sun," Rainbow replied. "Haven doesn't have that many stars." She paused for a moment. "It's Ditzy that I feel sorry for."

"'Ditzy'?" Blake said. "Is she the one who fought Pyrrha?"

"That's right, Ditzy Doo," Rainbow said. "Another Canterlot alumnus. She and her team went on a mission; apparently, her team leader went crazy, killed her other two teammates, and ran off. Ditzy's the last one standing."

"Gods," Blake murmured. "Is she okay?"

"Ditzy always seems like she's okay," Rainbow said. "But … I don't see how anyone could be okay after that; I mean … you don't have to love your teammates to feel something when two of them aren't there any more, and it's the fault of your own team leader. I feel like I should … I want to do something for her; I just don't know what. We went to the same combat school, but I don't actually know her very well."

"Maybe just getting to know her would be a good place to start?" suggested Blake. "She could probably use a friend, especially if she's in a … if she left her own kingdom to go to Haven Academy, she might not know a lot of the other Haven students. I'm sure she'll appreciate any support she can get."

"Yeah," Rainbow murmured. "Yeah, you're probably right." She fell silent for a moment, looking away from Blake, and away from Midnight too, looking out of the cockpit window, out across the skies and the towers of Vale and the Atlesian warships gliding by or holding position like huge airborne fortresses.

"You know, they're really lucky," she said. "They're so lucky I'm kind of jealous."

"Of Ditzy?" Midnight asked.

"Of Amber," Blake said, walking into the cockpit. "And Dove."

"And Blake gets it," Rainbow said, the words coming out like a sigh. "They get … I know that she wasn't actually dead, but she was in a coma for a year, and she might as well have been dead as far as he was concerned; she was dying, for sure, but now … now, she's back. Now, they get a second chance. Lyra and Bon won't get that. Ditzy won't get that." I won't get that, and neither will Aska, or the General. "I hope they appreciate how lucky they are."

"They certainly seemed to," Blake pointed out.

"Yeah," Rainbow agreed. "Yeah, they did, didn't they?"

"You didn't answer Rainbow's question," Midnight pointed out.

"Huh?"

"You didn't answer if you wanted to go and watch Sun qualify," Midnight said. "Or fail to qualify, as you fear."

"I'm pretty sure it's a closed door event," Blake said. "No spectators."

"Would you watch if you could?" Rainbow asked. "If you didn't have to be here?"

"I might," Blake murmured. She smiled. "Or I might like to be pleasantly surprised. To be honest … whatever the result, I doubt he'll be able to keep it a secret from me. So, if we celebrate tonight, you'll have a hint as to who's in the Vytal Tournament."

"Are you going to celebrate with him if he gets in?"

"I think I owe him that," Blake said. "Don't you?"

"You don't owe him anything," Rainbow replied. "What do you want?"

"I want to have some fun with a nice guy," Blake said. "Is that such a bad thing?"

"I didn't say it was a bad thing; it's a fine thing," Rainbow said. "It just had to be what you wanted, that's all."

"And what he wanted," Blake murmured. "I hope that he's doing what he wants, and not what he thinks I want."

"I don't think that it's just about you," Rainbow replied. "I think this SDC stuff, it … it lit a fire under him. Got him thinking."

"It wasn't only that which got him thinking," Blake pointed out.

Rainbow grinned. "I just … gave him a bit of a pointer in the right direction. I knew that you couldn't stop moving, and that you were just going to walk further and further away from him if he stood still. So I told him to make a move. I didn't tell him where to go; he came up with that all on his own."

"We're not moving to the same place," Blake said softly.

"No," Rainbow admitted. "But you're both moving, and your paths are close enough that you can reach out to one another."

Blake smiled. "Yes," she agreed. "Yes, we can." She put a hand on Rainbow's shoulder. "Thanks."

"All part of the service," Rainbow said.

Ciel leapt into the airship, Distant Thunder — collapsed down to a manageable length — slung over her shoulder. "I hope I have not kept you waiting."

"Nope, the Skybus only just left," Rainbow said, pushing the button to close the doors. As they slid shut, she asked. "How's Amber?"

"She is in good spirits," Ciel replied.

"Yeah?"

"Indeed," Ciel said.

"That's … you gotta admire that," Rainbow said. "Still being able to smile after what she's been through."

"It helps that she has Dove," Blake said. "But she seems to be getting on well with Team Sapphire as well."

"It does not surprise me," Ciel said, from behind them. "She is … very likeable."

"Is that why you don't mind going over there to do her makeup?" Rainbow asked.

"Someone must," Ciel said. "Someone close to her complexion, which requires a different approach than Pyrrha knows. Unless you have some beauty secrets you have given no sign of."

"Yeah, no," Rainbow said. "On the rare occasions when that kind of thing is necessary, Rarity takes care of it."

"Would she rather you learned how to do it yourself?" asked Blake.

"I don't think so, the amount she seems to enjoy doing it to me, I mean for me," Rainbow replied, quickly correcting herself.

"That does not surprise me," Ciel said softly. "If one is so inclined, it can be … quite pleasant. To help Amber thus and to have her appreciate my assistance, it is … perhaps it is selfish to admit that I hope she does not learn how to pretty herself just yet."

Rainbow had a feeling that she knew what this was really about. She unbuckled her seat — they had time; Team SAPR and Amber and the rest wouldn't be landing in Vale for a little bit — and got up. Blake made way for her, and Rainbow squeezed past her before walking to the hatchway separating the cockpit from the fuselage.

Ciel sat on one of the seats near the cockpit, her hands clasped together in her lap, her head down.

"I'd ask if you were okay," Rainbow said, "but I can guess the answer."

Ciel hesitated. "I'm fine," she whispered.

"I don't believe you," Rainbow said flatly.

Ciel glanced up at her but didn't say anything. She looked away again. "We should go," she said, quietly and stiffly.

Rainbow's response to that was to go and sit down beside her on the bench between the cockpit and the door, their shoulders almost touching.

Rainbow didn't look at Ciel; she kept her eyes ahead of her, at the grey metal door on the other side of the airship.

Without looking, she reached out and took Ciel's hand.

"You've done the right thing," she said. "You don't also need to be okay with it, at least not with me. Because I'm your team leader, and while I haven't been the best team leader, I am still your team leader, and that means that you don't have to be good or strong or virtuous or stoic or anything else. You want to let it out, here's the place."

Now, Rainbow looked at Ciel. Ciel was still for a second, and silent too. She raised her head. And then her whole body shuddered, and she made a sort of choking sound.

She did not cry, but she sounded a little choked up, her voice getting kind of hoarse.

"Neon thinks that Penny is ungrateful," she said. "She calls her a word that I shall not repeat, and I … I know that it is not so, but … but I feel it too. In my heart. Lady forgive me, I feel it too. And so, to have the opportunity to help Amber, to have someone who appreciates my help … it brings me joy for itself, and for the joy that it brings to Amber, but it also brings me sadness, for what I wanted but was denied. I … I am foolish."

"No," Rainbow said. "No, you're not; you're just … human after all. Making mistakes. Feeling things that aren't always what people looking at us from the outside might call 'good.' But it doesn't make you a bad person. Penny … you tried harder for Penny, did more for her, than me or Twilight; of the three of us, you are the one who least deserves the blame, and if anyone deserves any credit out of this, it's you — which my final report will reflect, if that matters to you at all — and I'm sorry that Penny can't see that yet. Hopefully, she will, one day." She paused. "But until then … or whatever happens … it's okay to be sad. It's okay to be angry."

"What good will that do?"

"You won't explode from trying to hold it in," Rainbow told her. "The fact that Penny can't see how you loved her doesn't mean you didn't."

Ciel closed her eyes. "That … may be as you say," she murmured. "And I thank you for it, truly, but … but for now, we have a job to do, do we not?"

"Yeah," Rainbow said. "Yeah, we do."

"Then we should go to it, should we not?" asked Ciel.

Rainbow looked into Ciel's eyes. "Are you good?"

"Duty will be a balm to all my heartache," Ciel said. "And I would not see Amber come to harm because I was moping like some … someone who wallows in heartache. Let us go. We have a Maiden to guard."

Rainbow nodded and started to get up, but as she rose, she put a hand on Ciel's knee. "If you ever want to talk about it, you know where I sleep," she said. Then, only then, she returned to the cockpit and strapped herself back in.

"Control, this is Atlas Echo Three-Oh-Three requesting permission to take off, disembark passengers in Vale and then assume holding pattern delta-nine as specified in my flight plan request."

"Copy that, Echo Three-Oh-Three, permission granted."

"Roger that, Control," Rainbow said, as she guided her airship up off the docking pad and into the air, following the Skybus with Amber and the rest aboard on the way to Vale.

XxXxX​

Tempest Shadow watched the Skybus head out in the direction of Vale, carrying with it the Fall Maiden, Amber, along with Team SAPR, Penny Polendina … and Sweetie Drops.

Sweetie, and Lyra Heartstrings, and Dove Bronzewing.

That was surprising. Team SAPR, Penny, they were in the know, they were Ozpin's agents, it was to be expected that they would be set to guard the Fall Maiden. It was a little more surprising that the Fall Maiden would be allowed to venture into Vale, but leave that for now. That was not important.

What was important was the proximity of Bon Bon — or Sweetie Drops, whichever name you preferred — to the Maiden.

How had she managed it? How had she managed it for her whole team? Why had Ozpin decided to trust them?

It was certainly fortuitous, so fortuitous that Tempest almost wanted to distrust it.

Almost because, in trusting it, it offered the opportunity for this to be far, far easier than she had thought.

She turned away, her mind awhirl with possibilities.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Busted Taillight

​

The girl who sat next to Gilda in the front of the truck looked human.

Pretty much, anyway; there were a few markings on her face, and on her hands and shoulders too, that looked like they might be freckles, or else some kind of skin condition, but which Gilda thought were actually speckles, or maybe even isolated scales.

She still wasn't quite sure exactly what kind of faunus the other girl was though, and she could pass for human, pretty much, which was why she was sitting in the cab of the truck with Gilda while the rest of the infiltration unit that the High Leader had assigned to her for this mission was shoved into the back like the sacks of coffee that, according to the logo on the side of the lorry, they were supposed to be carrying.

The girl's name was Ilia, Ilia Amitola, and it was probably a bit rich of Gilda to call her a girl when there probably wasn't much in it between them in terms of age. She was smaller than Gilda, and slighter too, with blue-grey eyes and reddish-brown hair worn in a long high ponytail that rose up behind her head and then dropped down to her waist. The cap that she was wearing, a cheap grey thing to go along with the cheap, crumpled grey jumpsuit that she was wearing to complement her look as a delivery person, had a hole in the back to let the ponytail out.

Gilda was dressed just the same way, although she was wearing a larger suit than she really needed so that she could wear her black bodysuit underneath.

What she couldn't have with her was her swords. Ilia didn't have her weapon with her either; it was in the back with Gilda's blades and the rest of the crew.

Hopefully, they wouldn't have any problems. If they did have problems … then they would deal with it.

For now, they had not had any problems. Gilda's fake ID had gotten them through the Atlesian troops manning the Green Line, and now they were approaching the Red Line, the walls of Vale that served as its main defence against an attack by the grimm.

Gilda kept her hands on the steering wheel, even as she shifted her body uncomfortably in her seat. This seat wasn't made for bird faunus, and having to keep her wings tucked up behind her was really cramping them, not to mention the fact that every time she even tried to lean back, she hurt her wings from crushing them, which meant that she had to lean forwards all the time, and her back was starting to protest.

She would be very glad when they reached the safehouse they were heading to — a place in one of the majority faunus districts of the city, where they could lie low with little chance of being betrayed — and she could get out of this truck and stretch her wings.

Of course, when they did reach the safehouse, then they would also be that much closer to their goal, to the mission that the High Leader had assigned her: the deaths of Blake and Dashie.

Their deaths for the crime of helping the faunus and attacking the SDC.

Their crimes of making the White Fang look bad by the fact that two Atlesians were able to get more results than them.

The High Leader had a way of talking, and her reasons, her motivations, sounded reasonable, plausible … but Gilda couldn't help but think that there was something vindictive about all this, something spiteful and petty. 'You've shown me up, so I'll kill you.'

Or perhaps Gilda just didn't want to go through with it, and so she was thinking up reasons why it would be a bad thing to do.

She didn't really want to do this, not even to become leader of the Vale Chapter. She would do it, because she was a good soldier, a loyal and dutiful soldier, and she would follow her orders, but she didn't want to do it.

She didn't want to kill Rainbow Dash because Dashie was still her friend in spite of everything, and she didn't want to kill Blake because … it was harder to say why she didn't want to kill Blake. Blake, far more than Rainbow, had it coming: she had betrayed her mask, joined with hated Atlas; she had abandoned Adam and the cause.

But she had also fought alongside them before she left, which might be said to make the betrayal even worse, or it might … it would be easy to say that Blake had never stood shoulder to shoulder with them, but then people might say the same about her after the way she'd behaved with Adam and Cinder and Mountain Glenn and the rest.

Blake had stood shoulder to shoulder with them, as much as Adam would let her, until it became too much for her to take.

It was hard for Gilda to judge her for that. After all, they were all outlaws, renegades, criminals in the eyes of the law. They had no laws of their own; they had no uniforms, no officers. All they had, really, was their belief in the cause, and if that belief stopped … who was to say you couldn't walk away?

Ideally, you wouldn't walk away and then put on an Atlesian uniform afterwards, but Gilda didn't think that had been Blake's plan when she left.

It had become the plan, obviously, but sometimes, life came at you fast, didn't it?

And she was Lady Belladonna's daughter, the daughter of the High Chieftain of Menagerie, but more importantly, she was the daughter of the woman who had made it possible for Gilda's parents to retire to Menagerie, to leave their lives of graft in the Low Town cold behind and live it up on some sunny beach, drinking fresh mango juice while goldfish nibbled at their toes, to hear them tell it. That reminded her; she should check on that PO box she had in the city while she was here, there might be more letters from home. Gilda's letters were frequently terse, mostly because she was lying through her teeth about her life in Vale, but her parents' letters were more expansive; they couldn't wait to tell her all about what a wonderful time they were having in Menagerie, a land without work, without business, without laws or cops, without fences or boundaries, without debts or slaves or servants. A land where all were idle, and nature's bounty supplied all their needs without the need to toil for them, as though the God of Animals himself had blessed the land, or blessed the people that the land should keep them.

They made it sound like a paradise. Such a paradise, in fact, that the idea that the faunus had fought a war to avoid having to go there seemed ridiculous.

And it was all thanks to Blake's mother, who sponsored so many poor and humble faunus like Gilda's folks to make the journey to paradise.

And for that, Gilda was going to kill her daughter? It didn't seem right. It stuck in her craw.

She shook her head; it wasn't doing her any good to think about this, just thoughts going around and round in her head, nothing new or good coming out of them.

"Everything okay?" Ilia asked.

They were the first words she'd spoken to Gilda since they got in the truck. Until then, she'd been content to stare out of the windscreen, eyes on the road ahead, acting like Gilda wasn't there — or as though she, Ilia, were somewhere else.

"I'm fine," Gilda muttered. She furrowed her brow. "You've come from Menagerie, right?"

"Yeah," Ilia said. "What about it?"

"What's it like?" Gilda asked.

Ilia glanced at her. "Why? You want a transfer?"

"No," Gilda said quickly. "My folks live there. I want to know if it's as awesome as they say it is or if they're hyping it up too much."

Ilia was quiet for a moment.

"Menagerie isn't perfect," she said quietly. "The interior isn't really habitable — the wildlife is too dangerous, and water is too scarce — so our people have to live on the coast. That means there isn't enough space; that means people live cramped together, all except for the Belladonnas, who get to live in their big house on the hill lording it over the rest of us!"

"Privilege of being in charge," Gilda said.

"At the expense of their people?" Ilia asked.

"The High Leader's hall isn't small, is it?" Gilda replied.

"The High Leader doesn't live in Kuo Kuana," Ilia answered. "The White Fang headquarters are in the interior."

"But you just said—"

"Water is scarce, but you can find it if you look," Ilia explained. "And we have nothing to fear from the local wildlife. We're not taking space that others desperately need."

"Hmm," Gilda murmured. "My parents tell me that nobody works. That the land provides for everyone."

"That's not entirely true, but I can see why they said it," Ilia said. "There are those who work, either in Kuo Kuana or on the coast, or even braving the inland; there are vineyards, and fishing boats, but … but your folks aren't wrong. It's like crops just spring up out of the ground, fruit trees sprout with no urging and always bring forth so much, and so succulent, soft and juicy too. It's not quite right to say that no one works, but it is right to say that no one has to work. Nobody has to crawl into the dangerous darkness to add more zeroes to Jacques Schnee's bank balance; nobody has to break their backs to pay rent to the Mistralian lord who owns the land; nobody has to live in terror of the bailiff or the debtor's cell, the pink slip or the eviction notice. In Atlas, they say 'is a man not entitled to the sweat of his brow?', but in Menagerie we ask 'is a man not entitled to a share in the common wealth?'"

"Sounds as idyllic as my parents speak of it," Gilda murmured.

"Your parents weren't born there, were they?" Ilia asked. "They moved."

Gilda nodded. "From Low Town, under Atlas."

"Menagerie might not be perfect, but it's a hell of a lot better than Atlas," Ilia said, almost growling.

"And you don't think the Belladonnas have something to do with that?" Gilda asked. "Something that warrants the big house, maybe."

Ilia scowled. "No one deserves to have so much more than the rest," she said.

Gilda supposed she could see that argument, whether she agreed with it or not. "So why did you leave? What makes you want to leave a place like Menagerie and fight in Vale or Mistral?"

Ilia was quiet for a moment. "For the cause," she said shortly, and kind of sharply too. "I'm not going to shirk my duty to our brothers and sisters in the rest of Remnant, who need someone to fight for them."

That sounded … it sounded a little like she'd memorized it, perhaps to answer questions like the one that Gilda had just asked. But, if that was the case, then it was no doubt because she didn't want to share the real answer with just anyone, and that was fair enough in Gilda's book. They'd only just met after all, and they weren't friends.

No, you're going to kill your friend.

Gilda ignored that thought. The point was that she and Ilia were only here because the High Leader had commanded it so; it wasn't as though they were going to hang out once this mission was over. Once the mission was over, they would probably never see each other again.

So she let the conversation lapse, let the silence fall, let the only sound be the noise of the truck, its engine grumbling as it devoured the road on the way to Vale.

The Red Line was directly ahead of them now, the wall rising up out of the ground to bar their way. The defence of Vale was a mixture of concrete and metal, a solid rampart with a solid metal gate — one of several — built into it, with firing slits in the wall and guns built into it and resting on top of it, all pointing outwards towards any grimm horde that might head towards the city. How many of those guns were still in good condition, how many people could fire out of those firing slits, Gilda couldn't have said; Vale had a bit of a reputation for letting its defences slide, but they certainly looked impressive enough. She wouldn't have wanted to attack them head on, any more than she had really wanted to go through that tunnel and the Breach.

There were a few men who could be seen moving up on top of the solid walls, but there was no one manning the gate as Gilda drove the truck up to it. Instead, there was a camera and a microphone mounted on top of a metal pole painted yellow. Gilda pushed down on the brake, pulling the truck up next to the camera, and leaned out of the window to press the button that would alert whoever was monitoring the camera to her presence.

There was a moment's pause before a voice emerged out of the tinny speakers. "What's your business?"

"Coffee business," Gilda said, "Magic Beans coffee business. We just got back from a delivery."

"They make you deliver outside of Vale in a truck?"

"Airships cost too much," Gilda said.

The voice on the other end of the line whistled. "I do not envy you, buddy. ID please."

Gilda got out the fake ID, identifying her as Goldie Fawn, Valish born and bred.

She flashed it in front of the camera.

"I'm opening the gate for you now," the voice said. "Welcome home."

"Thanks, Mister," Gilda said. "It's good to be back."

There was a moment's pause before the gate opened, the metal sheet — painted in Valish green, with red and black warning stripes along the base — rising up into the wall itself, opening up a view into Vale itself, or at least its outer limits. Nobody really lived so close to the defences; even if they didn't really worry that the defences might not hold, nobody wanted to live right up against a wall where there might be soldiers marching around or test firing artillery or generally making it difficult to get a good night's sleep. It would be like having neighbours who really loved their fireworks. And so, as Gilda drove the truck through the open gate, it was clear that most of the buildings were warehouses, for storing the kind of things that wouldn't be disturbed by marching feet or guns going off.

As they drove through the gate, Gilda turned on the CCTNav; she'd already programmed in their destination, and shortly, a little map of Vale, or at least the part of Vale they were in now, appeared on the dashboard, with a yellow line indicating what road to take.

Gilda turned right, as directed.

Ilia looked down at her hands. They were clasped together in her lap.

"You've seen Blake, haven't you?" she asked.

Gilda kept her eyes on the road. "'Blake'?"

"Blake Belladonna," Ilia said, as though there might be a different Blake in the Vale Chapter of the White Fang. "You've seen her, haven't you?"

"Sort of," Gilda said. "It was in the middle of a battle, so I didn't get a good look."

"In Mountain Glenn?" Ilia asked.

"No, I … actually, yes, I did catch a glimpse of her in Mountain Glenn," Gilda admitted. She'd forgotten that, until Ilia reminded her. "She was running to catch a train."

"How did she look?"

"How do you mean?" Gilda replied. "Do you want to know if she looked happy, healthy? I told you, I was busy, and I didn't get a good look at her."

"Forget it," Ilia muttered, looking away out the window as she rested her elbow on the door.

Gilda let it lie for a moment, focusing on the navigation, taking the turning indicated, before she said, "Did you know her?"

Ilia took a second to answer. "We were in the Mistral Chapter together. She … she was my friend."

"I didn't know Blake had any friends," Gilda muttered.

"Well, she did," Ilia snapped. "I shouldn't have let her go to Vale by herself."

"She was with Adam," Gilda pointed out.

"Obviously, that wasn't enough, was it?" Ilia demanded.

"No, I guess not," Gilda murmured. "I wish she'd stuck around too." She frowned. "Listen, I know what it's like. I've got a friend with the Atlesians too."

"The other one that we've been ordered to kill, right?" Ilia asked.

Gilda nodded slowly. "That's right. Rainbow Dash."

"Is that going to be a problem for you?"

"Is killing Blake going to be a problem for you?" Gilda shot back.

Ilia didn't respond. "What do you think made her do it?" she asked.

"Quit?"

"Sell us out," Ilia said, "to Atlas." She spat the name with all the venom of an adder.

Gilda took a deep breath. "I can't speak to why she decided to wear the Atlas uniform, but she left the White Fang because she couldn't stand … I think it's because she couldn't stand the killing anymore. I don't know what happened on that train job to push her over the edge, but I think it must have been more of a last straw kind of thing."

"And so she betrayed us?" Ilia demanded. "And so she doesn't just leave, she doesn't even just go to Beacon, she joins Atlas? Atlas? After everything that they've done to m—" She stopped. "After everything that they've done to us, to our people, she chooses them, she chooses … what would make her do something like that? After all Blake has been through, after all we went through together—"

"You two were close, huh?"

"I…" Ilia didn't finish whatever sentence she'd just about begun. "Blake … was my hope. I thought that she would be the one to lead us to freedom."

"I thought the same about Adam, once."

"Adam was never … Adam was always a dog," Ilia declared. "Blake was made of the right stuff. Or at least, I thought she was. The High Leader thought so too; that's why she was grooming Blake to succeed her."

"Then why didn't she make Blake leader of the Vale Chapter?"

"The High Leader said she needed to learn to follow before she'd be ready to lead," Ilia explained.

"That worked out well," Gilda muttered.

Ilia said, "And you've no idea why she decided to join … them?"

"I haven't been in a position to ask her about it," Gilda pointed out.

"What about your friend, why did she join Atlas?" asked Ilia.

Gilda huffed. "A bunch of humans got their claws into her. They did things to her brain."

"Maybe your friend got her claws into Blake," Ilia suggested. She was silent for a few seconds. "The answer is yes."

"Yes … what?"

"Yes," Ilia said. "I can kill her. I'll kill them both by myself if I have to. For the cause."

"Right," Gilda said. "For the cause."

Or for yourself?

Gilda made the next turn, coming onto a two-lane street sandwiched between some suburban houses, with modest front gardens with lawns and flowerbeds and garden gnomes fishing in the tiny ponds.

Whatever else Gilda and Ilia might have said to one another was interrupted by the sound of a siren blaring behind them.

Gilda looked out of one of the wing mirrors; the first thing she saw was a red and blue light flashing brightly, almost blindingly so, but once she could look beyond the white light, she could make out the cop car that was flashing those lights.

Gilda cursed under her breath even as she started to pull over on the side of the road, easing the truck to a stop.

The cop car pulled up behind them. It was a blocky vehicle, mostly black with a big white stripe running down the middle of it and the letters 'VPD' written on the hood. The siren stopped, but the lights remained on, flashing red and blue, as the doors of the car opened and two police officers emerged.

They were both humans, two men, their sleeves rolled up to expose their muscular arms, each with one hand hovering above the holsters of their blocky Valish pistols as they split up, each walking around one side of the truck.

"What do we do?" Ilia asked. "Fight?"

"'Fight'?" Gilda repeated. "I thought you were supposed to be an infiltration specialist; no, we're going to talk our way out of this." She kept her hands on the wheel.

One police officer appeared beside her, looking up at her with his brown eyes, a sneer playing on a sallow face that might have been cute if it hadn't been for the disgusted way that he was looking at her.

Gilda could see no sign of his partner.

Gilda tightened her grip on the steering wheel. "Is there a problem, officer?"

"You've got a busted taillight," the cop said.

"No, we don't," Gilda said.

There was the sound of breaking glass from the back of the truck.

"Yeah," the cop said, "You do." He smirked. "Better not contradict me too much, feathers; it makes you sound hostile. Hostility makes me nervous."

The other police officer appeared on the other side of the truck, facing Ilia. He was the older looking of the two, with sunken cheeks and heavy brows that overshadowed their eyes.

"What's a good-looking girl like you doing with a bird like this?" He leered. "Why don't you come for a ride in our car, love; I promise it goes a lot faster than this thing."

"I'll pass, thanks," Ilia said flatly.

"Look, officers," Gilda said, "we've got a job to do, a lot of deliveries to make—"

"I'm going to have to ask you to watch your tone," the cop standing at Gilda's door said.

"There's nothing wrong with my tone!" Gilda squawked.

"Calm down!" the cop snapped, hand going to the grip of his weapon. "Keep your hands on the wheel."

Gilda's knuckles went white as she gripped the wheel so tightly it might crack. With their aura, she and Ilia could certainly kill these two if it came to it, without the help of any of the guys stuffed in the back of the truck, but that might bring attention to them which they really didn't want.

But what was the alternative? Get shot? Drive off and get chased all through Vale?

Hope that these cops weren't actually in the mood to shoot someone.

"Where did you get this van, eh?" the cop standing opposite Ilia asked. "Did you steal it?"

As a matter of fact, they had, or at least the White Fang had. Ilia said, "It belongs to our company; read what it says on the side."

"I can read," Ilia's cop said. "I just don't believe any self-respecting company would employ a bird to drive for them."

"Let me see your licence and registration," Gilda's officer demanded.

Gilda took one hand off the wheel to get the fake ID.

Her cop drew his weapon and pointed it at Gilda's head. "Put your hands on the wheel now!" he roared.

"But you just—"

"Hands!"

Gilda put her hands back on the wheel. "There, my hands are on the wheel." It took a great deal of self-restraint not to add 'are you happy now?'

She didn't say it, but she might as well have, because there was little doubt in her mind at this point that these two meant to shoot them.

They were going to shoot them, and then they were going to say that Gilda had been hostile, that she'd made them afraid for their lives — and, yes, they might well be afraid for their lives with the White Fang around, but they didn't know that Gilda and Ilia were White Fang, and if they had known that, they wouldn't have dared pull them over without backup — and so, really, who could blame them for pulling the trigger?

And if Gilda and Ilia hadn't been in the White Fang, if they hadn't had aura, if they weren't able to kill these two basically whenever they chose, then…

Then we'd be dead.

This was why the White Fang was necessary. Stuff just like this, stuff that Blake and Dash, for all their good intentions, would never stop, would probably never even see, stuff like this that went on every day in Vale, and Mantle, and Mistral, and everywhere faunus and humans lived together. This was what the White Fang was for, when you got right down to it, to stand up against stuff like this, to bite back every once in a while.

Maybe the White Fang hadn't exposed slavery on the part of the SDC, maybe they hadn't started a strike in Mantle, maybe they hadn't changed the world yet, but they could strike back against small injustices, they could revenge wrongs done to the faunus, and they could make sure that a couple of bad cops wouldn't get the chance to hurt any faunus who were less prepared for trouble than she was.

Yeah. Yeah, Gilda was going to kill them both. That hadn't been the plan at first, and it would not be without its problems, but … well, first of all, it didn't look like these cops were going to give them the chance to drive away peacefully, and secondly, they were really starting to get on her nerves.

"This isn't a city for faunus any more," said Ilia's cop. "The real Valish are taking our kingdom back."

Gilda didn't look at Ilia. No doubt one of the High Leader's elite would know what to do once Gilda made a move.

Three, two—

There was the sound of another car pulling up behind the truck and the cop car, although Gilda couldn't see what kind of car because she didn't want to look in her mirror to check. She heard a door open and then slam shut.

"What's going on here, fellas?" asked the new voice. It was a woman's voice, with a thick, strong accent.

"Get back in your car, love; this is an ongoing incident," said Ilia's cop.

"It's 'Lieutenant' to you, darlin'," the apparent lieutenant said. "Lieutenant Martinez, Flying Squad. Now, I'm going to ask you again: what's going on here?"

"Pulled this truck over for a broken taillight," said Gilda's cop, looking away from Gilda. "The driver became hostile."

"Is that so?" asked Martinez flatly. "Probably because you broke their taillight."

"We—"

"Yeah, you did," Martinez said. "And I know you did because I can see the glass on the ground. Or am I supposed to believe that's a coincidence?"

Gilda's cop snorted. "You want to watch yourself, Lieutenant. The kind of cops who throw accusations like that around find that nobody answers when they call for backup."

"I'll take my chances," Martinez growled. "Now, why don't you two get back in your car and drive on?"

There was a moment's pause. Neither of the two uniformed cops moved.

"Now!" Martinez barked.

Now, they moved. Too slow for Gilda's liking, and with obvious reluctance, but they moved all the same. Out of her mirror, she watched them slouch back to their car, slamming the doors petulantly as they went. They turned off the bright flashing lights that meant that Gilda had to squint to look at them.

Their engine growled as they started to drive away.

They both stared out of their windows at Gilda and Ilia as they drove past.

As the squad car disappeared down the road, Lieutenant Martinez walked into view. She was a faunus, which was at once surprising — a faunus lieutenant in the police — and at the same time unsurprising, because who else would have bothered to stick up for them like that? She was a tall woman, with shoulder-length brown hair and kind of ducky lips that made her look as if she was permanently pouting, all set in an oval-shaped face. She wore a dark grey trouser suit with a white blouse, and a brown horse tail emerged from out of her pants to drop towards the floor.

"I'm sorry about that," she said. "On behalf of the VPD, I apologise."

"Thanks for the help, Lieutenant," Gilda replied.

"Yeah, well," Martinez muttered. "Do you have long to go?"

"Why?"

"Because now you really do have a busted taillight, and anyone else who wants to pull you over will have an excuse," Martinez explained. "So get where you're going as fast as you can."

"Should we be worried?" asks Gilda.

Martinez frowned. "This city … ever since the Breach, something has been different about it. And I'm not just talking about people being on edge — that you could understand — I'm talking about people blaming the faunus. People … being more open about how they feel. There have always been my fellow officers who didn't like me — they were there when I joined, and some of them will still be there when I take my pension — but now it's like they feel they can say it louder than they used to."

"But you still work for them," Ilia said.

"It's not all of us, kid," Martinez replied. "It's a few rotten apples; there are plenty of good cops, and I happen to think I'm one of them."

"One rotten apple spoils the whole barrel," said Ilia. "That's the point."

Martinez snorted. "Well, if I get left to have my head kicked in the next time I call for backup, I'll know you were right, but you haven't been right yet." She took a step back. "Best of luck to both of you."

"And you, Lieutenant," Gilda said. "Thanks again." She put her foot on the accelerator, gently easing the truck forward off the curb and back onto the road.

"She's deluding herself," Ilia muttered.

"Same as Rainbow Dash," Gilda replied. "Same as Blake too, probably."

Doesn't mean that they deserve to die for it though.

But her doubts … her doubts were lessened now; they didn't shout so loud, they didn't grab at her attention so easily. What had just happened had quietened them down by reminding her of the importance of the cause, of the struggle. Reminding her that they were fighting to bring an end to things like that, as only the White Fang could.

"The High Leader's right," she said. "Dashie, Blake, the things they're doing … they might do some big flashy stuff, convince people that things are changing for the better, but all it does is paper over stuff like this, stuff that happens to ordinary faunus, stuff that doesn't mean headlines or get attention but which has to be stopped."

"And that's why they have to be stopped," Ilia said. "That's why we have to stop them. And we will." She clenched her hand into a fist. "Blake is going to pay the price for her betrayal."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Brave New World

​

Amber stared at the city with eyes wide, turning in place on the sidewalk as she took in Vale as it rose up all around her, the towers of glass and steel, the buildings of stone, the airships in the sky up above, this city that was both modern and antique in equal measure and in equal measure visible around them.

They had just left the Skydock, all eight of them, and seven of them now stood on the pavement leading to and from the glass doors that they had exited, huddled together somewhat, watching Amber as she skipped a few steps on ahead, to where the road from the Skydock joined the street, one of many that crisscrossed Vale like the streams fanning out from a mighty river.

"This … this is Vale?" she asked, her voice a reverential whisper as she regarded Vale much as Sunset had regarded Mistral as she first caught sight of it from the air, as she and her teammates were borne towards it through the skies.

Sunset did not find Vale so impressive, but if Amber did, well, then who was Sunset to argue with that?

"Yes," Dove replied, a smile upon his face as he watched her and her enthusiasm. "Yes, this is Vale. It's impressive, but at the same time, I found it a little overwhelming at first. It's … I could hardly imagine that anywhere so big could exist anywhere in the world."

Amber looked down and looked at Dove. "It is very big, isn't it? Ozpin told me that it was vast, but … I never imagined that he meant … it's so, so big. So big that I can't see the end of it, or the beginning."

Dove's smile broadened. "Once, I told Lyra and Bon Bon that I was going to keep on walking until I reached the city limit."

Lyra snorted. "Three hours later and without aura, we would have been quite definitely footsore, and even with aura, we were getting pretty fed up with this guy."

"You went with him?" Amber asked.

"Of course we went with him," Lyra said, "we weren't going to let Dove just start walking off towards the Red Line with no idea of how long it would take him to get there. What if he'd never come home?"

"That's a little bit of an exaggeration," Bon Bon pointed out. "I'm sure he would have given up and turned around eventually."

"I don't know," Lyra said. "Dove can be as stubborn as a rock sometimes."

Amber giggled. "Did you make it? All the way to the end of the city, I mean?"

"In a manner of speaking," Lyra said. "After four hours, Bon Bon and I were willing to call it quits, but Dove wasn't — so much for 'he'd have given up eventually'—"

"So these two cheated," Dove declared.

"We did not cheat, and if we did, you did too," Lyra replied quickly. "And we saw the edge of the city, what more do you want?"

"What did you do?" asked Penny.

"We got a cab to the wall," Lyra explained. "Like sensible people."

Amber's brow furrowed. "A cab?"

"Oh, yeah, Dove didn't know what they were either," Lyra said. "It's a car that you can pay to take you places."

"A car," Amber repeated. She turned around, and with the same wide-eyed wonder that she had had for the city, she regarded the automobiles whizzing by down the road she stood beside. "That's them, isn't it, those horseless carriages? I think I've been told about them; they're cars, aren't they?"

"When did someone last say 'horseless carriage'?" asked Bon Bon.

"Just now," Sunset said. "Try and keep up."

Bon Bon rolled her eyes.

"Yes," Dove said. "Yes, those are cars."

Amber gasped in amazement. "Oh—"

"Brave new world?" Sunset guessed.

Amber looked back at her. "I'm sorry. I suppose I say that too much."

"Is it really possible to say anything too much?" asked Pyrrha. "Provided the words are not offensive or insulting, I think not."

"Although I am a little curious as to where it comes from," Sunset added. "Assuming it comes from anywhere outside of your own head."

Amber fell silent for a moment. "I … I don't remember," she admitted. "I feel as though I ought to remember, but I don't. I … it's gone from my mind. I think I must have read it somewhere, but I don't remember where, or what else I read alongside it, or why the words stuck with me so. That's all that I remember. 'Oh, brave new world.'"

"'Oh brave new world, that has such people in it?'" Ruby guessed. "I think they're Percy's words."

Sunset frowned. "'Percy'?"

"The Swan Knight," Ruby explained. "She served King Edward at the same time as Olivia; she's even mentioned a few times in the Song of Olivia, but her story is told more completely in other stories. Like Olivia, she was a country girl, or so she thought; when she found out that her father was actually a knight in King Edward's court, she set off to find him and to claim her place as his acknowledged daughter. When she arrived in Vale, at the King's court, she was astonished by … everything, and everyone she met: Olivia, King Edward, the wizard Osfred, Nimue, the other knights: 'Oh, brave new world.'" Ruby grinned. "You're not the only one who remembers quotes from stories."

"Wherever it's from," Amber said, "it fits, doesn't it? This is a brave new world, to me, at least; if I was ever here before, I don't remember it, and I … I can't think that I would have ever come here before. And it's so full of wonderful people, who have made me feel so warm and so welcomed." She beamed, as bright as the sun that shone down upon them. "So, Pyrrha, where do we go from here?"

Pyrrha was smiling too as she said, "Wherever you like, it's entirely up to you."

"Really?" Amber gasped. "But it's your—"

"It's entirely up to you," Pyrrha insisted.

Amber fell silent, once more turning to look around her at the vast city, the enormous beating heart of this kingdom, that sprawled all around them.

"Whatever I want," she murmured. "What I want…" She laughed for joy. "I want to see the concert hall where the great singers perform, I want to see the library where every book ever written is stored, I want to see everything that Ozpin told me about and more! I want to see all of your favourite places, too! I want…" She held out her hands towards Dove. "I want you to show me the Valish life."

Dove walked towards her, his borrowed cape bouncing a little through the combination of his movements and the breeze as he approached. He reached out for her, enclosing her hands in his own.

"I'm hardly Valish in that sense myself, but I'll do my best. And I'm sure," he went on, looking back at the others, "that the others will help me if I get it wrong."

"You can't get it wrong," Ruby assured him. "Not if you're seeing what you want to see."

"You can get the directions wrong," Dove pointed out.

"Okay, yeah, you can, in which case, we'll help," Ruby said. "Assuming we don't get the directions wrong ourselves."

"I'm sure we'll find our way somewhere, somehow," Sunset declared. "Although seeing the whole of Vale and its life is likely to be a bit of a tall order for one day."

"But we can start, can't we?" Amber asked. "We can start, before…"

She trailed off, and for the benefit of Lyra and Bon Bon — the benefit of keeping Lyra and Bon Bon in the dark, at least — Sunset was glad that she trailed off, but Sunset could guess — and probably all of them who knew the truth could guess — what she had been about to say.

"We can start before I have to go away into hiding."

As Pyrrha had said, they couldn't stop that; it was Amber's fate, and would be now for as long as she lived, since Salem knew that she was the Fall Maiden. Even if Cinder died, then there would be other hunters, other servants of Salem who coveted the power of a Maiden. Secrecy would be Amber's cloak and prison both until she breathed her last.

But not right now. Right now, as Pyrrha said, they had the opportunity to make not only Amber's stay with them but her life more comfortable, more pleasant, to be a ray of light for her in what would otherwise be a rather miserable existence, otherwise brightened only by the presence of Dove by her side.

They had the opportunity to give her some memories that would last a lifetime, so that when she had to go into hiding and dwell in secret in some misbegotten forest far from the hustle and bustle of the world, she might look back and remember the days when she had such friends as they to keep her company and had seen such sights as Vale and Mistral had to offer.

"As I said," she said, "we'll find our way. A concert hall, you said?"

"The concert hall," Amber corrected her. "Ozpin … he once told me that I was good enough to sing there, and although he was such a liar, I'd like to believe that he was right about that."

"He was not a liar in all things," Sunset murmured. "And not, I think, in this."

"No," Dove agreed. "Certainly not in this. Take it from someone who has never lied to you."

"You know, Dove's told us so much about your voice that we have to hear you sing sometime," Lyra said. "I'm kind of musical myself, so I'd love to jam with you."

"What kind of music?" asked Amber.

"I can sing," Lyra said, "though I don't know if I'd have the nerve to try and sing alongside someone whose voice can make a man fall in love just from hearing it," — she smirked — "but I play the lyre too; I could accompany you, if there's a song we both know."

"Oh, the lyre!" Amber sighed. "I love the lyre; it has such a sweet sound, doesn't it? I had a silver lyre that Ozpin gave me, but … I don't remember what happened to it. Dove, I don't suppose that you know?"

Dove shook his head. "I'm afraid not. I remember the instrument — you played for me once or twice, when we sat together beneath the trees — but I don't know what became of it; I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Amber assured him. "It wasn't your harp."

"Professor Ozpin might know," Sunset suggested.

Amber hesitated. She sighed. "I … I suppose he might," she admitted. "Sunset, would you mind asking him for me when we get back?"

That was meant as an invitation for you to go and talk to him, maybe start the process of building a bridge between the two of you, Sunset thought, with a degree of chagrin.

But if Amber really didn't want to speak to him, then … then it wasn't the place of Sunset or anybody else to force her.

"Very well," she said. "I will speak to him. But first," — she got out her scroll — "let's see if we can't find the grandest concert hall in Vale."

She started with the relatively simple search of 'Concert halls Vale,' which yielded a modest plethora of results, which she then began to scroll through, looking at each one in turn.

"While we're here," Ruby said, "it might not be much fun, but we should also get you a new weapon as well."

The smile died from Amber's face. "Do I … do I have to?"

"It's for the best, as Ruby says," Pyrrha said gently. "It doesn't mean you'll have to use it, but … at least you'll have it, in case of need."

Amber embraced herself, putting her hands upon her arms, shivering a little though it was no colder. "I … I suppose," she whispered.

"Weapons aren't something that can be so easily replaced," Bon Bon pointed out.

"Not all of them," Ruby admitted. "But we could find something, or just get the parts on order."

"What kind of weapon did you use?" Jaune asked. "Or, I guess 'what kind of weapon do you want' would be the question."

A staff, Sunset thought, with a dust crystal set in it. But, since she had learned that fact from Amber's own memories, she kept it to herself.

"A staff," Amber said. "I learned how to use a staff."

"Okay," Jaune said. "I think we ought to be able to find one of those somewhere."

"We'll make time to swing by a weapons store," Sunset said. "But first … let's see … the Queen's Hall, the Big O, Fetterley Stadium— ah, the Salvation Hall. Built after the Great War to celebrate blah blah, expanded after Ozpin's Stand blah rhubarb, has hosted some of the biggest names in music including Weiss Schnee, Sapphire Shores, and Countess Coloratura." She looked up. "That sounds like the place, doesn't it?"

"Do you know where it is?" Amber asked.

"Not exactly, but I'm sure I can find it with this map," Sunset replied.

A drone buzzed past overhead — but not very high overhead, so that it was rather loud and rather noticeable too.

"What was that?" asked Amber, ducking a little.

"A drone," Bon Bon said.

"That's a little flying machine," Lyra explained.

"I wonder what it was doing spying on us," Bon Bon muttered.

"What makes you think it was spying on us?" asked Lyra.

Because it was, as it happens, Sunset said. Twilight, do you have to fly it so low?

XxXxX​

"And so they're off," Blake murmured as she watched Amber and her large escort set off down the street, having to move in a mass or a column because there wasn't room on the street for them all to walk level with one another. Even then, they had to shift position, to flow like water, in order to let people coming the other way pass them by.

"Mmhmm," Ciel murmured. "Hopefully they do not go anywhere it becomes difficult for us to follow them discreetly."

Blake nodded. "I hope they have a good day. I feel like anyone who has been through what Amber's been through deserves a good day, at the least. And hopefully more."

"Indeed," Ciel said, still speaking very softly. "Amber is not the only one who deserves one and many more good days, but … yes, she does."

Blake watched the group move off, glancing at Ciel, who was kneeling down beside her. They were stood on the flat roof of a two-storey building — the lower storey was a fried chicken eatery; the upper storey was probably where the owner lived — across the road from the skydock. Fortunately, it seemed that the roofs were all flat in this area, so they should be able to keep pace with the group, or at least continue to follow on after them, letting them get a little ahead, for some time now.

Blake glanced at Ciel again. Ciel herself did not look at Blake; her eyes were completely fixed upon Amber and the others.

Blake wondered if she ought to mention it. It didn't seem like her place; she might be joining Atlas but she wasn't actually a part of Team RSPT, she didn't know Penny that well, and to be honest, she wasn't too close to Ciel either. Ciel might not welcome her intrusion in this matter.

And yet, at the same time, Blake felt as though it was a third person up on the roof with them, Ciel's … anger? Sadness? Bitterness? She wasn't entirely sure how to say it. It had not been there with them in General Ironwood's office, but then, she supposed that Ciel wouldn't have wanted to show it in front of Penny.

"Ciel—" she began.

"I do not require your condolences, as appreciated as they are," Ciel muttered.

Blake's eyebrows rose. "How did you know?"

"I guessed based on the awkward tone with which you began," Ciel replied. "You would not have said my name with such trepidation unless you wished to venture upon a delicate matter."

"I … see," Blake said softly. She paused for a moment. "But Rainbow's right, bottling up your feelings—"

"Perhaps I am an old-fashioned girl," Ciel said sharply. "But I worship at the altar of God and the Lady, not of … self-expression. There are feelings that are fit and proper to be expressed and those which are not; those, I shall keep in my heart and pray for the strength to expunge them."

Blake frowned. "Does Penny know?"

Ciel sighed. "Penny knows more than I should like. I … I said some things to her before I comprehended the justice of her cause. And her cause is just. I know that, with head and heart, I have accepted that, that is why I spoke in her favour before General Ironwood, that … that is what makes it so unseemly that I…"

"You realise I can't finish that sentence if you won't say how you feel, right?" Blake said.

"What makes you think I want you to finish my sentence for me?" asked Ciel.

"You … you're right," Blake murmured. "I … I'm sorry; I'm prying into your affairs, and I'm not even your team leader. I shouldn't have presumed."

"It is alright," Ciel said. "Your attempt at kindness is appreciated. As is the aid you rendered to Mantle."

"Thanks," Blake said. "Although I wasn't exactly trying to help Mantle at the time."

"Nevertheless, you have brought hope to the city," Ciel said. "It … it takes a kind soul to look at a place like Mantle and see somewhere in need of assistance and not just somewhere to escape from."

"Perhaps not a kind soul," Blake replied, "but an outsider's eye."

"No, I think you are most definitely kind," Ciel answered. "It may not express itself in boundless exuberant embraces or an effervescent manner, but nevertheless … you are so full of kindness it rather awes me somewhat."

"I…" Blake hesitated for a moment. She hadn't set out to awe Ciel, or anybody else for that matter, and to hear that she had … first Rainbow, now Ciel, what was it about her — about her — that people seemed to find awe-inspiring? She didn't even consider herself particularly inspiring, let alone awe-inspiring. "I … don't know what to say."

"Then say nothing and take the compliment," Ciel suggested.

Blake snorted. "Okay then," she muttered. Again, she paused, then she said, "I know that I said I shouldn't intrude—"

"And yet," Ciel said.

"And yet … I've been in Penny's situation," Blake said. "I've done what Penny did; I left a group of people who…"

"Please do not compare us with the White Fang," Ciel said flatly.

"It's not an exact comparison, of course," Blake said, "but at the same time, if you can't expunge those feelings, as you put it, then I worry that … they will gnaw at you."

"As I said," Ciel replied, with some asperity in her voice, "I have accepted with head and heart that this is for the best for Penny, or at the very least that this is what Penny wants. I have accepted that she is — that she must be — free to choose this of her own volition, that no man has the right to stop her and that is how God would have it. My … sadness has no bearing on that, it will not eat at me, it will not corrupt my heart. It may linger, and it may make me sad, but it will not make me cruel because I do not believe that I am right, not even in my heart of hearts." She paused. "Will she be happy?"

"Penny?"

"Of course Penny," Ciel said sharply. "Do you think she will be happy here at Beacon?"

"Nothing is certain," Blake murmured. "But … yes. Yes, I think that she'll be happy here. Very happy, surrounded by…" She trailed off, unsure of a way to compliment Penny's Beacon friends without insulting the Atlesians.

Ciel closed her eyes a moment. "That … that is all that matters. Do you think that Amber will be happy?"

"No," Blake said at once. "No, I don't think she will."

"Indeed," Ciel whispered. "I fear it will be so also."

"How can she be happy?" asked Blake. "Leading the life that she'll live once Professor Ozpin spirits her away somewhere she can be kept safely hidden from Salem."

"In my faith," Ciel said, "when it was stronger, when religion as a whole was stronger and more prevalent across Remnant, there once arose a heresy of those who, misinterpreting the Lady's word, believed that the divine justice was to be found in this world, not the next."

"You mean they thought that people would get what they deserved in this life, not after death?" Blake said.

"Precisely," Ciel said. "The truth, the truth as revealed to us, is that God shall judge us in the life to come and that those who were hungry, those who were cold, those who were put down and put upon shall inherit the riches of Heaven. But the Interventionists believed that all of that would occur in this life, that as we sin, so do we suffer. It was not a movement that enjoyed widespread acceptance because so many people could see that it was patently false, or else why is it the innocent who seem to suffer so much: Amber, Penny, Alain … all those people you liberated from the clutches of the Schnee Dust Company? What sins had they committed to suffer so?"

"None," Blake said. "Or at least, none deserving of their suffering."

"Quite," Ciel said. "And yet … it is a cruel world, is it not?"

"All the more reason we should be kind in it," replied Blake.

Ciel nodded. "What…?"

"What … what?" asked Blake.

"What if Amber did not have to go into hiding?" Ciel suggested. "What if she could go somewhere that, while not hidden, was nevertheless safe, somewhere she could be protected without having to huddle away in the darkness and the shadows, somewhere she could dwell in light and in security—?"

"You mean Atlas," Blake said. "You mean why can't Amber go and live in Altas?"

"Was it so obvious?"

"The bit about light gave it away just a little bit," Blake told her, a smile playing upon her lips.

Ciel chuckled. "You must allow a girl her love of Atlas, surely?"

"Allow it?" Blake repeated. "I do more than that."

"Yes," Ciel agreed. "Yes, you do, don't you? In any case, yes, it was Atlas to which I was referring. It is a great city — she would not grow bored there for some time — a city where she and Mister Bronzewing might live enjoying every modern convenience and amenity, a city where she could hardly feel trapped even if she were forbidden to leave the city limits, a city that is well-guarded and, I daresay, a little hard for any servant of Salem to gain entrance to, what with our sophisticated means of surveillance and identification of visitors. Atlas is not a place one can sneak into."

Blake thought about the way that she had been recognised upon stepping off the airship, greeted by a hologram that knew who she was and that she didn't have a hotel booked. "I can see your point, but that doesn't mean it's impossible to infiltrate," she said.

"No," Ciel allowed. "But there are no remote places in Atlas, at least not unless you descend down into the lower levels at certain times of day, and why would Amber wish to do that? It is not a place teeming with likely locations to stage a discreet ambush and killing. It is, at any rate, preferable to a hole in the ground or a cabin in the woods, you must agree."

"Oh, definitely," Blake agreed. "I think … Amber hasn't expressed any desire to go to Atlas, but I think that, if she enjoys Vale, then she could enjoy Atlas, even if she didn't quite come to love it. Like you say, it's got everything that you would need for a life, including good people to be friends with. That doesn't mean that it will happen, though; it's not our call, and … I think the Maidens are supposed to remain in their own kingdoms."

"Would Pyrrha have been forced to remain within this Kingdom of Vale?" Ciel asked. "One of the most famous living Mistralians barred forever from returning to Mistral, an exile forever from her home, an exile who could not even explain the reason for her self-imposed banishment."

"Self-imposed or imposed by Ozpin?" Blake asked. "But I take your point, it does seem … but what about the Relic of Choice?"

"What of the Relic?" Ciel demanded. "It cannot think, it cannot feel, it does not want or desire; it simply is. If we are to put Penny's will and desires above the claims of Atlas, as we should, then how can we place the good of Amber lower than the good of some lifeless Relic?" She took a breath. "I will speak to the General about this, whether you agree or no, that … I did not do the right thing in regards to Penny; I was too concerned with orders and duty, well, though I cannot make that right, at least the Lady shall let me learn from it and do better in this case: whatever duty Amber might have to Vale, whatever duty we might have to Professor Ozpin to comply with his decisions in the disposing of Amber, they cannot override Amber's own will, her happiness, can they?"

Blake scuffed the toe of her foot upon the ground. "Well, when you put it like that, it's hard to disagree with you."

"I will speak to General Ironwood about this alone if I must," Ciel declared, "but I should like your support. You are well-liked by him, and have a passing persuasive tongue if its effect on Rainbow Dash is anything to go by."

"You're being pretty persuasive yourself, at the moment," Blake murmured, a slight smile upon her face. "So much so that I'd agree to help you except for one thing."

"And what is that?"

"You haven't talked to Amber about what she wants."

Ciel was silent for a moment. "That … is a very good point," she admitted. "Habits are hard to break, it seems."

"With the right attitude, I'm sure you'll get there eventually," Blake told her.

"I hope so, with … I hope so," Ciel said. She watched Amber and the group, getting a little further away from them by now. "We should move."

"Agreed."

The two of them trailed after Amber and the rest, leaping from rooftop to rooftop, closing the distance between them until they were directly across the street from them, which was also the point at which Amber and others came to a crossroads, with sets of lights to guide both traffic and pedestrians across the two lanes going east west and the other two going north south. As cars flowed east-west and west-east in a river that seemed as though it had neither beginning nor end but which might form an endless loop of growling vehicles circling around Vale before coming back again to this same crossroads, the group waited for the red man to vanish and the green man to show himself. As Blake and Ciel watched, they could see Sunset jabbing the button with her thumb multiple times to no avail.

"Blake," Ciel said, "can you leap across the distance between us and the other side of the road?"

Blake looked over the side of the roof on which they stood across the traffic-filled road. "I think so," she murmured. "With some help from Gambol Shroud. You?"

"Possibly not; I may have to catch up with you as swiftly as I may," Ciel said. "Blake, may I ask you something in turn?"

"If you like," said Blake. "What?"

"Are you happy," asked Ciel, "that your light has drawn Sun to Mantle?"

"I never thought of myself as being or giving light," Blake replied, "but yes, I am happy, provided Sun is happy. I am … you say that I awe you, but Sun awes me that he's doing this in part for my sake, even if he's also doing this for the faunus and the people of Mantle. I hope … he's giving up so much, and I … am I worth it?"

"Probably not, but that is not for you to decide; his choice is made," Ciel said, bluntly and with consideration in equal measure. "Are you happy?"

"I am," Blake said. "I will be, so long as he's happy. Do you … think he'll be happy, in Mantle?"

"That … that depends," Ciel replied.

"Depends on what?" asked Blake.

"Upon so much," said Ciel. "Upon what he finds when he arrives — it may be different than he imagines — upon what he does, and the response to what he does, and what is done to him. Mantle is not such a paradise as Beacon is that I can say without a shadow of a doubt that Sun will be as happy there as you say Penny will be at Beacon. But then, I suppose that if Mantle were such a paradise, then Sun would hardly need to go there at all."

XxXxX​

"How's it looking down there, Twilight?" Rainbow asked from where she sat in the cockpit of The Bus, circling in the skies over Vale.

"I can see them clearly," Twilight replied, her voice coming loud and clear over the comm. "Unfortunately, they also saw me."

"That's a risk with drones; don't worry about it," Rainbow assured her. "Amber probably doesn't even know what drones are."

"Everyone else does," Twilight pointed out.

"And those who know won't care," Rainbow told her. "Everyone except for Lyra and Bon Bon is in on this, and even if they work it out, they'll understand why we're doing this. I mean, they know that Amber was attacked, right?"

"Probably," Twilight replied. "I'm not sure what they were told."

"I'm going to have to make a list of who knows what so I can keep it straight in my head," Rainbow muttered. "Anyway, if you can see them, how does it look?"

"They're having to wait a very long time to cross the— oh, the lights changed, finally; they're moving again," Twilight said. "For what it's worth, everyone seems to be getting along."

"Awesome," Rainbow said.

"I'm a little worried about Penny, though," Twilight murmured.

"Why?" asked Rainbow. "What's there to worry about with Penny? She's got what she wanted, she's transferring, there's … nothing else to it."

"Except for Amber," Twilight said.

"What about Amber?"

"Well, it's probably nothing," Twilight murmured, "but Penny was Team Sapphire's extra friend, their friend outside of their team—"

"Team Sapphire have a lot of friends outside their team," Rainbow pointed out. "Including us."

"I know, I know," Twilight replied, "but I suppose what I'm worried about is that Penny might feel … displaced by Amber in Team Sapphire's affections. And their attentions; I mean, you saw them at breakfast: they were all focussed on Amber, and she lives with them—"

"And there are good reasons for all of that," Rainbow said. "Come on, Twi, you know as well as anyone that you can have a lot of very good friends; I didn't feel jealous when you met Applejack, or Pinkie, or Rarity; I knew that you and I would always share a bond, and I formed a bond with the others right along with you. Penny will make friends with Amber as well, and she's smart and nice and emotionally smart enough that she'll understand why the others need to focus on Amber for a bit. No offence, Twilight, but I don't think you're giving her enough credit."

"Jealousy does not always need to be rational," Midnight declared. "Whatever Penny might know to be true might not dictate how she feels."

"Maybe not, but Penny isn't the jealous type," Rainbow insisted. "There's no reason for her to become jealous when she and Amber are going to become good friends. You'll see."

"You sound very sure of yourself," Midnight observed.

"I'm sure of Penny," Rainbow replied. "She's easy to like, as witnessed by the fact that Team Sapphire likes her so much—"

"And yet her own teammates didn't like her," Midnight said pointedly.

Rainbow scowled. "We liked her enough in the end that we were willing to put our careers on the line to help her out," she said, her voice sharpening. "Yes, we weren't the best teammates or the best friends, but that was because … there were reasons for that, and they weren't Penny's fault. It doesn't have anything to do with whatever might or might not happen between her and Amber. Who are going to get along, I know it. They've got no reason not to."

Midnight's holographic form clasped her hands together behind her back and tilted her body a little to the right. "But what if you're wrong?"

"I'm not wrong," Rainbow said.

"But what if you are?"

"Then Penny still isn't the jealous type. Twilight, why is your computer such a downer?"

"Possibly because she's reflecting my thoughts about this," Twilight suggested, "and I wouldn't have brought it up if I wasn't a little concerned."

"Or perhaps because I agree with Twilight's thought processes, though they are no longer my own," Midnight said. "May I ask you a question?"

"Sure," Rainbow muttered. "You're here, and I'm here, so why not?"

"Why did you agree to let Penny leave Atlas, though it is not what she was intended for?" asked Midnight. "Why did you agree to take the possible risk for her sake? Why did you not follow your orders?"

"Because it was the right thing to do," Rainbow said.

"That is an answer that explains nothing," Midnight pointed out.

"Because … because Penny isn't like you," Rainbow said. "She's not just a computer with a simulation of a personality; she's an actual person, she has thoughts and feelings, she has a voice, she has a soul, she … she's a person, not a thing, and because she's a person, then orders and intentions, none of it matters. If two parents have a kid who they intend should take over their store one day, or study medicine, or become the greatest concert pianist that Atlas has ever seen, it doesn't matter how long they planned for that or how much effort they put into helping their kid realise that dream; if the store-owners' kid decides they want to study medicine and the one who was supposed to play piano wants to run a store while the one who was supposed to be a medical student wants to play piano, then, well, so what? That's their choice, because it's their lives, not their parents' lives, not anyone else's, and so nobody gets to tell them how to live, what dreams they're allowed to have. And it's the same with Penny; she's a living thing, a person, and so it doesn't matter what anyone wants but her."

"Because she's conscious?" asked Midnight. "Or because she has a soul?"

Rainbow shrugged. "She has both."

"But what if she didn't?"

"She does," Rainbow replied. "So what's the point of asking me that?"

Midnight was silent for a second or two. "I suppose there's no reason," she admitted.

"What do you think about Sun going to Mantle?" asked Twilight.

"I did not see that one coming," Rainbow said. "But … I don't know, I hope it works out for him."

"Do you think it will?"

"I … I don't know; it's Mantle," Rainbow replied. "I don't know the place that well, and the fact that I don't like it means that maybe I judge it too harshly. I respect the guts that it takes to actually decide to move there, especially to do what he's doing. It's not a road that I'd want to walk, and to be honest, it's not a road that I'd want anyone I was really close to to walk either, but it's a brave road, and like I said, I respect that. He's got courage, you've got to give him that. Plus, you know, it's sweet that he wants to move closer to Blake."

"Do you think that Blake deserves that?"

Rainbow winced. "Harsh, Twi, real harsh."

"You know what I mean though, don't you?"

"Yeah," Rainbow muttered. "Yeah, I know what you mean. But it's not her fault, it's … Blake has a road to walk down, and I can't blame her for that, and nobody else should either. She knows what she wants; it's not her fault that Sun was standing around still trying to figure it out while she got moving. And now he has, and now he's moving too, so everything's okay." She paused, leaning forward in her seat. "Everything will hopefully be okay," she said, a little more quietly. "I hope that the two of them can make it work, and I hope that he manages to do some good."

"Me too," Twilight said quietly. "If Blake wants to … never mind." It took her a little before she said anything else. "It was surprising, though; it wasn't the kind of thing that I would have expected Sun to do. He didn't seem to really care much about faunus in general."

"People change," Rainbow said.

"Yeah," Twilight replied. "And Sun isn't the only one."

Rainbow frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I…" Twilight hesitated. "It's just that … since we met Blake, since she … since the two of you … over the last year, I've noticed that you have become more … faunus."

Rainbow blinked. "I was always a faunus, Twi; these ears don't come off."

"I know, I know," Twilight said quickly. "I just … what I'm trying to say is … oh, I don't know, maybe you should … I'm sorry, I—"

"Twilight," Rainbow said, leaning further forward, holding the microphone even closer to her mouth. "Twilight, come on; there is nothing that you can say that you have to apologise to me for. Whatever you want to say, whatever is bothering you, you can say it, and I will love you just the same. But you do need to actually say what you actually mean if you want me to answer it."

Twilight chuckled. "I know, I know, I … let me see… you didn't used to call them 'your people.' The faunus, I mean … it used to feel like we were your people, but now … I don't know; perhaps I'm the one who's jealous and everything about Penny was just me projecting."

"You are my people," Rainbow declared. "You will always be my people, you and Pinkie and Fluttershy and Applejack and Rarity and you … you most of all. You will always be my people, but at the same time…" She closed her eyes. "Do you remember how I told you, way back when we first got to Beacon, that you would never be able to understand what it was like to be me, not completely?"

"Yes," Twilight said. "Yes, I remember."

"Now, if Ciel were listening to this," Rainbow said, "you haven't spoken to Ciel about this, have you?"

"No!" Twilight said firmly. "No, I'd never talk to anyone about this behind your back."

"No, no, of course you wouldn't, sorry, I … it's just that I think Ciel tried to pull me up on this a while back. She didn't like me reading Sienna Khan's book."

"I wasn't thrilled about it myself," Twilight murmured. "I mean, it is Sienna Khan."

"Yeah, but she wasn't Sienna Khan when she wrote it, if that makes sense," Rainbow replied. "I mean, that was her name, but she was just a history teacher. Before she got fired for trying to teach. Did you know that Ares Claudandus ruled Mistral for eighteen months?"

"Really?" Twilight asked. "I thought the Councils were established after the war when the monarchs laid down their crowns and sceptres."

"Yeah, that's what I thought too," Rainbow said, "but after the faunus won the war, Ares Claudandus was invited to become Lord Protector of Mistral for the purpose of restoring the kingdom."

"'Invited,'" Twilight said, "or invited himself?"

"That's a very good question; as far as I can tell, it was a bit of both," Rainbow said. "He wanted to be in charge, they got to decide exactly how they would word it. After about a year, he issued a constitution, which named him Protector for life and gave him the power to name his successor."

"So he was Emperor, basically, in all but name," said Twilight.

"Pretty much," Rainbow agreed. "Which he might have gotten away with, except that he spent — or at least, he seems to have spent — a lot of his time in charge sawing the branch off that he was sitting on. He ordered the ex-slaves back to work on the farms and plantations, made it illegal for them to leave on pain of forced hard labour, and yeah, they got a one-tenth share of the crops they produced, but that probably didn't make up for giving the landlords the right to beat them with sticks."

"'Beat them'?" Twilight repeated. "Is it me or does that sound a lot like what Calliope Ferny was doing in the SDC mines?"

"Well, she didn't bring up the comparison, but now that you mention it…"

"Why would a former slave turn around and impose conditions like that on other former slaves?" Twilight asked.

"For the economy, apparently," Rainbow said. "They needed to get the farms back up and producing again so they had something to export. You're right, though; that doesn't make it okay. It makes it … it was wrong. It was wrong, it was not what people deserved, it was worse than what the King of Vale had wanted for the faunus after the Great War. I mean, what does that say, when the faunus of Mistral had more to hope from a Valish king than from one of their own? And it was stupid too. Like I said, he sawed the branch off while he was sitting on it. They were his army, the freed slaves from the fields and the farms, they'd fought for him, they'd won the war, and he'd betrayed them, or that's how it looked to them. So, when the lords of Mistral pulled out their knives for Ares, they wouldn't rise up for him, they wouldn't fight. Why should they? He fell, and that's when Mistral got its Council."

Twilight was silent for a moment. "I … I didn't know any of that."

"Me neither," Rainbow said. "Although … it was a bit off topic, I think, um … the point is … well, there's a story, about Claudandus; he was being nagged by Lady, um … Lady … I want to say it was Lady Ming, but it might be Lady Yin, or Lady Qing, I can't remember her name, but she wanted a job for her son, and she kept on bothering Claudandus to give him this post, and eventually, he must have just gotten fed up with her because he let her have it. He told her that she was a fool if she thought he didn't know that she hated him, if she thought he didn't know that she would put him in chains if she could, if she thought he didn't know how much she hated having to beg him for favours. He knew that she would never forget what he was."

"I'm guessing her son didn't get the job," Twilight said.

"No, actually, he gave him a position; he was a weird guy in a lot of ways," Rainbow answered. "The point is … like, take Ciel—"

"The point is wandering away from the point some more?" Midnight asked.

Rainbow glared at her.

"I'll be quiet," Midnight murmured.

"Thanks," Rainbow muttered. She cleared her throat. "Ciel acts like the best Atlesian, the most Atlesian Atlesian who ever … anyway, you know what I mean; it's so that nobody will know that she's from Mantle, or even if they do know, they won't judge her for it. And maybe it'll work. She does Atlas very well, so she's got a good chance, I think. And I guess that there have been times when I've tried to do that too, and maybe you preferred it when I did—"

"Rainbow—"

"Twilight, please," Rainbow said softly. "Let me finish."

"Of course," Twilight murmured.

"Even if I could do that," Rainbow went on. "Even if other people could forget that I was a faunus … I'm not sure anymore if I should. Twilight … you're an Atlesian; you're just an Atlesian, that's your story, the story of how we rose up after the Great War and came back from defeat to become the greatest kingdom that Remnant had ever seen, a military power, a leader in technology, a shining light for the world to look to. That … that's a great story, and that is my story too, because I'm an Atlesian, but it's not my only story because I'm also a faunus, and so my story is also the story of slaves who took up arms to claim their freedom, who wouldn't just let themselves be deported to Menagerie without a fight, who started from nothing and worked hard to build lives for themselves and better lives for their kids. It's the story … it's the story of my parents, of my dad struggling down in Low Town to support a family. It's a story that I've ignored. I left my family behind, I watched them go off to Menagerie, I came to live with you, I turned my back on Low Town, and I acted as though I could just put it all away. But I can't. I don't have … it's like Pyrrha's ancestors, inspiring her to fight and live up to their example, almost like she's obligated to them, well, maybe I'm obligated too, to go further than my ancestors, to fly higher, to do better, to build on what they worked so hard to leave me."

Rainbow Dash closed her eyes. "Am I … am I making any sense with this at all?"

"Yes," Twilight said. "Yes, now that you're talking about it, you make a lot of sense. At least, I think you do."

"But," Rainbow went on, "if it's bothering you, I can try and tone it down."

"No," Twilight said, "no, I don't … I don't want to be the friend asking you if you can't be less of a faunus sometimes, I would never do that, that … that's not who I want to be. I suppose … I just didn't want to lose you."

"And you won't," Rainbow assured her. "You won't. You never will. No matter what else I am, I'm still an Atlesian. And I always will be."

"Right. I shouldn't have doubted that," Twilight said. "So … we're good, right?"

"Come on, Twilight, we're always good, we're better than good," Rainbow replied. "You … you will always be a part of my story."

Twilight chuckled. "And you'll always be a part of mine."

Rainbow smiled. "What's going on now?"

"They've stopped to get coffee from one of those street vendor places."

"Lucky them."

"You know the new mass production models of the Paladin have a coffee machine included?"

Rainbow's eyes widened. "They do? Seriously?"

"Yeah," Twilight said. "Apparently, you can also use it to boil water for instant soups and things like that. I think the intent is that the pilot never has to leave the cockpit for any reason."

Rainbow frowned. "'For any reason'? But what—?"

"Yes, there's a toilet as well; it's under the seat."

"That … okay," Rainbow said. "Okay, but … lucky Paladin pilots, I guess."

XxXxX​

As fall was well under way, the air in Vale had grown colder even as the trees in the parks and planted along the thoroughfares had turned to red, amber, and gold, shedding their leaves upon the pavements and the grass. The air was cold, but the polythene cups were warm in Sunset's hands as she took the last two cups offered by the guy in his little van and handed one of them to Amber.

"Tea, milk, no sugar," she said, "here you go."

"Thank you," Amber said, smiling gently as she took the mug out of Sunset's hands. She looked at the black plastic lid with a slight degree of suspicion, but was nevertheless able to work out without prompting that she ought to drink through the little hole in said lid. She sipped experimentally, managing to drip just a little bit down onto the pavement beneath her feet, and winced at the heat of it.

"It'll cool down fast enough in this weather," Sunset assured her, "and if you twist the lid around a little bit, it might not drip."

Amber nodded and twisted the lid on top of the cup a little, although she did not drink from it.

"Thank you, sir," Ruby said, to the man in the van who had just had to make nine drinks at once.

"Any time," said the man, who probably didn't make so much at once usually.

"And thank you for paying, Pyrrha," Dove added, as the group resumed walking. "It was very generous of you."

"Oh, it was nothing," Pyrrha assured him. "Nothing at all."

Sunset got her scroll back out again, bringing up the map that would show them the way to the concert hall. Because she had the map, she led the way, with Ruby walking beside her, then Amber and Dove with Pyrrha and Jaune beside them, and Penny on the other side of Amber. Lyra and Bon Bon brought up the rear.

"So, Ruby," Sunset asked as they walked down a street that was a little wider than some, wide enough that Pyrrha, Jaune, Amber, Dove, and Penny could all walk more or less side-by-side without either being too crammed together or blocking the way for other people. Autumn leaves crunched beneath their feet, breaking apart in some cases or turning into a mush that covered the ground. "Tell us more about this Percy person."

Ruby looked up at her. "What do you want to know?"

"I'd kind of like to know why she was called the Swan Knight," Sunset said.

"Because she could talk to swans," Ruby answered. "The stories never use the word, but I think that must have been her semblance. Also, she wore a helmet with like swan's wings on the side and had a black swan on a white field upon her shield, but I think that was just a continuation of the fact that she could talk to swans."

"That doesn't sound like the most useful semblance for a knight," Penny pointed out.

Ruby looked back at her, grinning. "That's what the Giant of Tar Mulber said before she sicced, like, fifty swans on him. He wasn't laughing so much after that."

"They are supposed to be able to break someone's arm," Jaune said. "That's what I've heard, anyway."

"There are swans in the ornamental ponds of the Imperial Gardens in Mistral," Pyrrha said. "They look very beautiful, but people are supposed to keep their distance, especially when the swans have young."

"'The Imperial Gardens,'" Sunset murmured. "I don't think you showed us that when we were there."

"No," Pyrrha agreed. "There wasn't time to show you everything, especially with how we had to cut our visit short."

"Why did you have to do that?" asked Amber. "Did something happen?"

There was a moment of slightly awkward, somewhat uncomfortable silence.

"Perhaps—" Sunset began.

"You see," Pyrrha explained, "my mother did not approve of Jaune, or at the very least, she did not approve of him as my boyfriend, and so, when she saw that we were … growing closer," — she slipped her hand around Jaune's arm, holding him by the elbow — "she lied to Jaune to pretend that I was engaged to be married to another. When I found out what she'd done, I had to leave. I couldn't stay in that house any longer. We all came back here to Beacon."

"That sounds awful!" Amber cried. "How could anyone do such a thing?"

"Ozpin did, to Dove," Lyra pointed out from the back.

"Professor Ozpin was driven by a little more than snobbery," Sunset said.

"Although I wouldn't be amazed if there was some of that," Dove murmured. "Amber's mother didn't care for me very much."

"Really?" Amber asked, looking at him with wide eyes. "You never told me that. Or … or did you tell me, and I … I don't remember it."

"No," Dove said. "I didn't want to turn you against your own mother, I didn't want to give her any more reason to dislike me than she already had, as she would have done — with good reason — if I'd tried to drive a wedge between you. But, after I took you into my village and she caught the two of us together, she was very clear with me: I was not for you, nor you for me; you were meant for greater things than to be a crofter's wife."

"Oh, Dove," Amber murmured. "I … I'm so sorry. She had no right, no right at all, to—"

"It's fine," Dove said, "it's fine."

"No, it isn't fine."

"It's done," Dove insisted. "And in the past, and … and anyway, it may have spurred me on a little because … because I told her that I meant to be more than a crofter myself; that's when I told my mother that I was definitely going to Beacon."

"You hadn't made up your mind until then?" Ruby asked. "When was that?"

"I was sixteen," Dove said, "and don't get me wrong, I'd thought about it before; ever since I'd read the Song of Olivia, I'd thought about it; my grandfather had given me some training, and I picked up scraps here and there from huntsmen passing through the village; I persuaded one of them to test me and certify me as having equivalent skill to a combat school graduate … but I wasn't certain. My … my mother didn't really want me to come; she would have preferred me to stay home, become a tanner like her. I wanted to be … I wanted to be more than that, but I also didn't want to disappoint her or make her worry, so … I was stuck. I couldn't make my mind up. Until Amber's mother talked to me like that. It made up my mind. Maybe it shouldn't have, but it did. I knew what I wanted to be. Someone worthy of Amber, in her eyes, and everyone else's too."

Amber smiled, and as she smiled, she wrapped one arm around his waist and pressed herself against him, closing her eyes.

"I don't need you to be worthy," she said, ever so softly. "I just need you to be mine." She paused a moment, and then opened her eyes again. "Did your mother ever apologise for what she did?"

"Not in as many words," Pyrrha murmured, "but she has changed her mind about Jaune, or at least, she has accepted that I am not going to change my mind and made her peace with it as best she can. I … I was willing to accept that. I didn't really want to fight with her, as much as she might have deserved it."

Amber nodded. "I don't think I could have forgiven my mother, if I'd known what she did, what she said to Dove. I don't think … why can't they let us be happy?"

"Because they become so concerned with what they want, with what they've planned, that they forget that we have wants and needs of our own, and that those might be different from what they intended," said Penny, quietly.

Amber looked at her. "You too, Penny?"

Penny's smile was soft, and a little sad. "My father wanted me to be … a great hero for Atlas. He wanted me to be the greatest Atlesian soldier that there ever was. But I … I didn't want that. I suppose that all I really want is to have friends, at least right now, people who like me for me, who care about me as myself, and not for what I could become or do or mean for Atlas."

"Love, and be loved," Amber said, her voice soft and gentle. "That's all that really matters."

"Well, maybe not all that matters," Ruby said. "If everyone thought like that … we have obligations to one another, according to our…" She trailed off, as if she had been about to say 'according to our abilities' but had then remembered that Amber was forbidden from using her abilities by Professor Ozpin, a secrecy with which she was broadly in favour. Or maybe it had occurred to her that by that logic Penny should have stayed in Atlas.

"We can't just ignore the people that we don't love, is what I mean," Ruby clarified. "That's what it means to be huntresses and huntsmen after all: fighting for the people, even if we don't know them, even if they're strangers to us."

"Like the knights who went forth at the king's command, to fight for the lords and common folk far off," Dove said, "in lands the knights had never been to before, places that were not even names on a map to them, but which needed aid nevertheless."

"Exactly!" Ruby agreed enthusiastically. "We are the knights of the modern day."

"But without a king," Sunset murmured; although Ozpin came close to kingship, he lacked some of the essential qualities of monarchy, not least a crown or diadem, and the acknowledgement by realm and people of his regal dignity and temporal authority.

He lacked immortality as well, of course, but that was something even unicorn kings had managed without in the days of old.

"Or a castle," Jaune added.

"Beacon is sort of a castle," Penny replied.

"It's not really, though, is it?" asked Lyra. "It doesn't even have a wall."

"What would it need a wall for?" Bon Bon asked.

"To be a castle."

"Okay, but we don't need a castle or a king or a court," Ruby said. "So long as we have the spirit of those knights of old, to be sworn to valour and protect the helpless, like Olivia and Percy, Sagramor, Elyan, Leodegrace, and all the others. Apart from the bad ones."

"I think … is there a story," Amber began, "I don't remember it very well, but … talk about swans reminded me, stirred something in my memory … isn't there a knight or a princess who is turned into a swan?"

"Yes, that happened to Percy," Ruby said. "after she failed in her quest to recover the Great Crown—"

"The Great Crown?" Sunset interrupted. "How was it better than all the other crowns?"

"This one is … I think it's the crown from the Indecisive King, or at least, it's supposed to be," Ruby replied. "At least, I think it is. It's never confirmed, but I'm pretty sure. It was lost, but in the time of King Edward, the wizard Osfred called for all the knights of Edward's court to quest and seek it out."

"Did they all get turned into animals?" asked Penny, a trifle anxiously.

"They didn't all fail," Ruby said, "although most of them did. But Elyan the Pure recovered the Crown, though they died delivering it into Osfred's hands."

"That must have been a hard battle, to wound them so," Pyrrha said.

"No, they didn't die of their wounds; they just died," Dove said. "Like dropping dead."

"I never liked that part of the story," Ruby said.

"They had just completed their greatest quest," Dove said. "What else would they have done?"

"Lived?" Sunset suggested.

"Yeah, I agree with Sunset on this," Ruby said. "Think how many other battles they could have won, people they could have helped, if only they'd survived. But anyway, back to Percy, she actually saw the Crown, in the castle of Arthur, and if she'd only asked about it, then she would have gained the Crown and healed the master of the castle from his cursed wound. But she didn't; she went to sleep, and when she woke up the next morning, the castle and the Crown were both gone. And so, Osfred cursed her foolishness and turned her into a swan, a curse that could only be broken by someone asking her who she was."

"Who would ask a swan who they were?" asked Penny. "Except, perhaps, someone who could speak to swans."

"That would be ironic," Sunset agreed. "The one person who could break Percy's curse was Percy herself."

"But it was broken," Ruby told them, "by Prince Tristan, the son of King Edward. She … served him, I guess would be a way of putting it, as a swan, and with the help of the other swans who still served her. She pulled his boat down the river into the Forever Fall, where he met Lady Elsa, and swore to serve her on condition that she not ask who he was, and when she eventually did ask, Percy pulled his boat away again. And in between, she spied for him, fished to feed him, fought with him as best she could; she really does absolutely all the work in Tristan's stories. It's kind of ridiculous. Eventually, he realised that she wasn't an ordinary swan and asked her name, and she was transformed back into a knight again."

"And they fell in love," Amber murmured contentedly. "At least, I think they did. I'm sure they did."

"They did," Ruby agreed, "but it was a cursed love, a forbidden one. Tristan was supposed to marry someone else, a princess chosen by his father, but unlike Edward and Olivia, Tristan and Percy weren't able to put their feelings aside for the sake of duty. It … caused a lot of trouble."

"Frankly, if what you say is true, I think that was the least she was owed," Sunset said.

"For her, maybe," Ruby said, "but the kingdom deserved better."

A momentary silence fell, broken by Penny saying, "If you didn't get the chance to see the Imperial Gardens the last time you were in Mistral, maybe we can see them when we're all there next time?"

"Yes," Pyrrha said enthusiastically. "Yes, Penny, that sounds like a wonderful idea."

Over the course of the day, they wore out their feet somewhat heading around Vale. They took in the great concert hall, which was more geometric in design than Sunset had been expecting but which was, nevertheless, an impressive sight, every bit as impressive as Amber had been led to believe by Professor Ozpin. And after that was seen, they took in some other notable Valish sights and monuments that Amber had been told of by the headmaster — some; with Vale being as large as it was, there was no way that they could see all of them, still less all of the city. Nor, Sunset though, would it be accurate to say that they showed Amber the Valish life, rather the Valish tourist experience currently being shared with the new arrivals descending on the city from Atlas and Mistral for the Vytal Festival: the extraordinary buildings, the parks, the scenic spots. That was not a criticism, mind you: Amber was, in many respects, a tourist here, even more than the Beacon students were tourists, for while they would be living here for a while longer, Amber would be gone soon, into whatever life awaited her after this. Why not, then, see the good parts of the city only, and leave the bad parts out of her imagination? Why not let her think that Vale was every bit and only as marvellous as Professor Ozpin had painted it for her?

Sunset continued to hope, though it was a somewhat diminished hope at this point, that it would give them something to talk about.

"Uncle Ozpin, Vale was just as wonderful as you said!"

I wish. I thought she might be open to seeing things his way, but now … she cannot bring herself to love him.

And I dare not push too hard.

At Amber's request, they called in at an arts and crafts store, where Amber bought — or had bought for her, at least — drawing pencils of various sizes and levels of fine detail and some books of drawing paper.

"I used to love drawing," Amber explained. "No colours, just black and white, but I could spend hours drawing the goat in the garden, the chickens feeding, the sheep in their little paddock. Mother would let me sit and draw her shearing the sheep for their wool, even though I probably should have been helping her. Sometimes, I would go out into the woods and draw the trees, how old and tangled they looked, the way their branches stretched out like arms. Or I'd draw the ruins in the woods, the remains of the walls, the statue in the chapel." She smiled. "Or I'd draw Dove. Do you remember all the times I used to make you sit absolutely still so that I could capture you just the way I wanted? And you were so good; you never complained."

"I did complain once," Dove admitted. "When I was talking to you; I wasn't looking at you for … some reason, I was asking you if you thought that I should go to Beacon or not, and I thought you were listening to me, and then I looked around, and you'd just been drawing me the entire time."

Amber blinked, tilting her head a little to one side. "I … I don't remember that."

"No?" Dove asked. He paused for a moment, and then said, "I'm glad. I don't think I really want you to remember me upset."

"I can't even imagine you upset," Amber said.

"And that is the way that it will stay," said Dove.

Amber looked around. "Do you mind if I draw all of you? You're all so pretty, I'd love to have pictures of you. Pictures that were mine to … to take with me."

"I would be flattered," Pyrrha said.

"It's fine by me," Sunset said.

"Sure, if you want to," Ruby agreed.

"I mean, I see myself as handsome, rather than pretty," Jaune said, "but yeah, I don't have a problem with it."

"You're pretty handsome," Pyrrha said.

Ruby groaned. "Ugh, Pyrrha!"

"Oh, was it that bad?" asked Pyrrha.

"Yeah," Ruby said. "Yeah, it kinda was."

And they found time to go a weapons dealership, not a blacksmith's — there was no indication that the weapons were made anywhere on the premises — but a place where the windows were covered with wire so they couldn't be easily broken into, a place with what looked like armoured shutters ready to descend over the door, a place where the well-lit interior was filled with swords and spears and guns lining every wall.

Amber did not look especially thrilled to be there; she shied away from the weapons somewhat and huddled closer to Dove, or to Pyrrha, or to Sunset herself, as though the weapons themselves might come alive and hurl themselves at her, gasping for her blood or her soul. She walked in with a slow, reluctant step, walking upon her toes, her heels barely touching the floor, glancing here and there, looking as though it would not take much to get her to bolt from the store.

Nevertheless, she went in, and however tentatively she moved, she did move, to the back of the store where there were a few different kinds of staves on display. They were fewer in number than the swords or the guns — or even a subsection of guns, like the pistols or the automatic rifles — but there were some there, from simple wooden sticks to a metal staff of shining steel that looked as though it collapsed in on itself.

Amber walked closer and closer to the staves on display, her mouth open a little, her eyes just a bit wider than normal. She glanced over the weapons on the wall.

"Now, the things you want to consider about your weapon," Ruby said, "are first of all what kind of weapon, but then also how complex you want it to be, how much maintenance your willing to do on it, whether you want something that converts for a ranged option, are you going to use dust—?"

"This one," Amber said, and as she spoke she reached out and laid one hand upon a simple wooden quarterstaff, a shaft of wood about six feet tall — a little taller than Amber herself, about of a height with Pyrrha or Jaune — that had been rounded and smoothed out by the plane and the lathe until there were no gnarls, no barky edges, no roughness to disturb the hand that held it — or, in fact, to make it harder to keep a grip on in the heat of battle. There was a slight crookedness near the tip of the staff, where the wood split up into four thick wooden fingers, like a crown, or the receptacle for a dust crystal of decent size.

"Well, don't just pick the first one you see," Ruby said. "You can consider your options; we could go somewhere else—"

"This one," Amber repeated, her voice no less soft, no less quiet, but quite firm all the same. She closed fingers around the dark brown wood, and as her fingers closed, so did her eyes, her head descending forwards an inch or two as though she were speaking to the staff, or making communion with it.

"It's made of wood from the Forever Fall," she murmured.

"How does she know that?" asked Lyra quietly. Everyone ignored her.

Is it the magic of the Maidens that lets her hear its story so? Sunset, for her part, remembered Cinder telling her what ought to have been obvious, that the Forever Fall was a magical place, and all the trees within it touched by magic. That being so, and Amber also touched by autumn's power, the two were suited for one another as if by fate.

"It has hoped for a gentle owner, who will use it only at need, and not for sport or pleasure, but only … only for safekeeping." Amber kept her eyes closed as she lifted the staff off the wall. "Stand back, please."

Everyone shuffled backwards, clearing some space on the shop floor as Amber, eyes still closed, retreated somewhat from the wall, until she had room to hold the staff before her, gripping it in both hands.

She turned to the right, the tip of the staff presented outwards, the butt in parallel with her lower legs. Then she began to move, advancing, swinging the staff in swift arcs, making circles with it, causing the air in the shop to whip sideways as she twirled her staff forcibly.

And as she moved, Amber was transformed before their eyes, the shaking, the trembling, the nervousness leaving her, all of Amber's seeming weakness falling from her, and in her place, there was a woman who had been trained by Professor Ozpin himself, who had been blessed with a formidable tutor and the talent to take advantage of their skill and knowledge.

She was fast. She was faster than Jaune, faster than Sunset — the way that she was moving, she would have either knocked Soteria out of her hand or just gotten into Sunset's guard before Sunset could react — and though Pyrrha would have given her a fight, it would have been just that: a fight. Sunset glanced at Pyrrha and could see her nodding approvingly, a smile playing upon her lips as she watched Amber strut and prance before their eyes, showing the skill that had lain dormant, hidden, the skill that Sunset would never have suspected had she not been into Amber's memories. Lyra and Bon Bon watched with astonishment, eyes wide and mouths open, and Jaune, too, looked as though he could scarce comprehend it. Dove watched her intensely, but his expression was guarded and inscrutable. Ruby was bouncing up and down upon the balls of her feet, hands clenched into little fists.

Amber turned, whipping around on her toe, lashing out with her staff to strike an imaginary foe in the throat. She brought it down, straight down in a slashing stroke upon the crown, then upwards with the butt. Her movements were elegant, circular; they flowed into one another like water, putting Sunset somewhat in mind of Pyrrha's style with the spear when she held it in two hands, minus, of course, any use of or reliance upon the tip. But it was similar in the way that there was no staccato to it, there was no stuttering succession of attacks, it was all one, like a woven tapestry, every motion, every strike, every assault blending together in a seamless story.

Doubtless, it would be different in a battle — real enemies would interrupt things somewhat — but as an ideal, as a thing to watch, it was quite, quite beautiful.

Amber came to a stop, her whole body shuddering as she opened her eyes.

"Whoo!" Lyra whooped. "Go Amber!"

"That was awesome!" Ruby cried.

"Don't," Amber said, her voice quiet but sharp at the same time. "Please don't, I … I have done nothing to be applauded for here." She let out a long breath, not quite a sigh in manner but close. "This one," she repeated.

"As you wish," Pyrrha said, taking a step forward. "We'll get that one for you." Her smile broadened. "You will need to give some thought to a name."

Amber looked at her. "Forever Fall," she said. "Its name is Forever Fall."

 

[ScipioSmith]

A Quiet Place

​

The farm was silent. Night was almost fallen, the last light of day lingering dimly upon the far horizon, the rays of the sun struggling to get up over the mountains. The chickens were nowhere to be seen; probably, they'd already gone inside their wooden coop to sleep, or to lay eggs, or to do one first and then the other. You could still see the goat, lazily chewing upon the grass, paying no attention to anyone or anything, his eyes looking towards the dying light, but was he even paying attention to that? Ruby couldn't say.

"How's this?" she asked, as Amber sat down on the wooden bench that sat beyond the chicken's wire-fenced enclosure.

"Oh, this is perfect," Amber said, laying her hands upon her knees. "Vale was lovely, absolutely delightful, but … but so crowded. So full of people, so full of sounds, even the skies were full. At times, especially after a day in a crowd, it's good to be able to go somewhere quiet and peaceful."

"This place is certainly quiet," Ruby said.

"Whether it will stay that way with all of us around, I don't know," Sunset added.

Amber chuckled. "It will be alright, I'm sure, with you."

Ruby sat down next to Amber, upon her right, while Dove sat down upon her left, one arm looped around her waist. There was only room for three people on the wooden bench, so Sunset, Pyrrha, Jaune, and Penny — Lyra and Bon Bon had gone back to their dorm room — had to either sit on the ground or stand up. None of them chose to stand up. Sunset sat down at Ruby's feet, sideways on, her back to Amber — and also leaning on the side of the wooden bench for a little support, as her long hair spilled out behind her and into Ruby's lap. Penny sat directly at Ruby's feet, not quite leaning against them but getting pretty close, so close that Ruby was kind of amazed that Penny could balance herself like that. Pyrrha and Jaune sat down facing the same direction as everyone else, Pyrrha lifting her red sash up and draping it over her legs rather than letting it touch the grass beneath her, she and Jaune leaning against one another's shoulders.

There wasn't much to look at. In fact, there was nothing at all to look about, but it was certainly quiet, and it was certainly peaceful, and that was what Amber had said she wanted.

So as long as she wanted what she said she wanted, this place was pretty much perfect right now.

"I take it there are animals here during the day?" Amber asked.

Ruby nodded. "Chickens," she said, "and, well, there's still the goat."

"Yes," Amber agreed. "Yes, there is. It's a pity there's so little light left; he— is it a he or a she?"

"I haven't checked," Ruby admitted. "I think it's a he."

"Mmm," Amber murmured. "He'd make a wonderful sketch subject, as still as he is, if only there was more light."

A green glow intruded into the corner or Ruby's vision as Sunset raised one hand up into the air. There was a soft snapping sound, and a ball of green light appeared over the goat, hovering above the creature as it looked up to stare at the sudden light above it.

"How's that?"

Amber laughed. "That would be better," she said, "and even better still if I worked in colour, but I don't have my sketchbook or pencils with me. We left them in your room."

"It's your room as well, for as long as you're with us," Pyrrha reminded her, "and I could go and get them for you."

"Or I could," Ruby suggested. "I'm faster."

"That's very kind of you, both of you, all of you," Amber said, "but there's really no need. Drawing can wait until daylight."

"Then you don't need my light either, I suppose," Sunset said. She raised her hand, holding it as though she was about to snap her fingers.

"No!" Amber said quickly, her voice rising a bit. "No," she added, going quiet again. "Please, leave the light. I like it. I … I'm not too fond of the dark."

Sunset lowered her hand again. "As you like," she said softly.

"Thank you," Amber whispered as the ball of green light that Sunset had cast spread out over the goat, across the grass, partway into the chicken pen, and touched the huntsmen and Amber like water lapping at their feet as the tide came in.

"You really do have the most versatile semblance," Dove remarked. "It's astonishing. How someone, just an ordinary person—"

"There's nothing ordinary about me, Dove Bronzewing," Sunset interrupted.

Dove ignored her and carried on regardless, "—can have a semblance that is even more versatile than the Schnees."

"Versatile, yes, but I wouldn't mind having their summoning on top of everything else," Sunset replied. She paused for a moment, and her hair moved around on Ruby's lap as Sunset shuffled a little bit where she sat beside her. She looked around, her back twisting, her hair flowing in the other direction. "But the truth is—"

"Sunset," Ruby murmured, in case Sunset wanted a second to think about this, in case she wanted to reconsider telling Dove this secret.

Sunset did pause, long enough to sigh. "Now that Dove has been taken into our confidence," she said, "he might as well know the rest. This isn't actually my semblance. My semblance is the touch … telepathy, empathy mixture that I used to save Amber. This, and the energy attacks and the shield and everything else, that's magic."

"'Magic'?" Dove repeated. "So does that mean that you're a Maiden too, like Amber? But then how come you can be here, where you could—?"

"No," Sunset said, "no, I'm not a Maiden. I'm a maiden, as it were, but I am not a Maiden with a capital M. I can't do what Amber can, and Amber can't do what I can do. My magic is of a rather different sort."

"What kind of difference?" Dove asked.

Sunset didn't reply. "Well, when I said you might as well know the rest…"

"You don't trust me?"

"It's not about trust," Sunset said.

"Isn't it?" responded Dove.

"No," Sunset replied. "I mean, I suppose it is sort of, but it's nothing for you to take offence at. I trust your love of Amber, I trust you to protect her, I trust you to follow where she goes, I trust you to stay by her side, but you are not dear to me, you don't have the sort of claim upon my heart that would lead me to tell you all my secrets. I hope you can understand what I'm getting at when I say we're not that close."

Dove chuckled lightly. "I suppose, when you put it like that, how can I take offence? It's just a fact, after all; we really aren't that close. I suppose I should be honoured that you've told me as much as you have."

"Don't go overboard," Sunset said. "It's not that much of an honour."

"Nevertheless…" Dove began, but didn't really get to saying anything about it. "I suppose I shouldn't tell anyone else."

"No," Sunset said. "I'd rather you didn't."

"Then it will not pass my lips," Dove promised.

Sunset chuckled. "'It will not pass my lips'," she repeated. "It's a pity you'll be leaving soon; you'd fit right in with us."

"What do you mean?" asked Amber.

"Antique manners," Sunset explained. "The knight in shining armour thing."

Amber laughed lightly. "Yes," she whispered. "He's very gallant, isn't he?" She paused for a second. "Speaking of gallant men," she said, "Jaune." She drew out his name, like an extra-long 'aw' sound, like 'Jawwwwwwwn'.

"Why does that sound make me think that I'm in trouble?" Jaune asked nervously.

"A little bird told me," Amber said, "that you have never written Pyrrha a love song."

"Is that bad?" asked Penny.

"I don't think so," Ruby added.

"Well, it certainly isn't a good thing!" Amber declared. "How can you call yourself a gallant gentleman if you haven't written anything to serenade your lady fair?"

"One who can't write songs?" suggested Ruby.

"Yeah, I'm with Ruby on this one," Sunset agreed. "It's all very romantic and all, but some people just don't have the talent for it. You have to have a special gift to be able to write songs; not everyone is born with it."

"Hey! What makes you think I haven't written Pyrrha a song?" Jaune demanded.

Nobody knew quite what to say to that, and a silence dropped on them, like a bucket of water or something.

Sunset was the first to speak, "Because we haven't heard it?" she said, "and frankly, I don't think you have the self-control to keep quiet about something like that. If you'd written her a love song, she'd be blushing enough to light up the whole dorm room. She'd be blushing bright enough for Amber to draw by right now."

"Sadly, you might be right about that," Pyrrha murmured.

"It's not a bad thing," Ruby told her. "I mean, it might be funny for us, but it would also be really cute."

"Well … Pyrrha hasn't heard it yet," Jaune muttered.

"That rather defeats the object of writing her a love song then, doesn't it?" Sunset asked.

"Is this going to be one of those situations where Jaune claims that he's written a song when he hasn't and then has to scramble around to write something before he has to play it for everyone?" asked Penny.

"You mean like a sitcom?" Ruby asked.

"It's not a sitcom," Jaune declared. "I really do have a song, I just … I guess I was too nervous to actually play it for Pyrrha."

"I sympathise," Dove said. "I was a nervous wreck. And I didn't even play any instrument, and I don't have a great voice either—"

"Then why did you try and write a song?" asked Penny.

Dove smiled. "Because I thought Amber would appreciate it," he said. "She was always singing for me; I thought that … I thought it might be nice to return the favour. Even if I did expect that she'd beg me to stop as soon as I'd begun."

"And did she?" asked Penny. "I mean, did you?"

"No," Amber said. "No, of course not. Songs from the heart can never be bad."

"That's a nice sentiment," Sunset murmured, "but musically debatable."

"Jaune," Dove said, "however bad you think it is, however afraid you might be about how Pyrrha will react … just remember that you can't possibly do worse than me, because you can actually sing and play guitar, so just go for it. You've actually written the thing; why make it wasted time?"

"Because…" Jaune murmured. "Because … what if—?"

"Jaune," Pyrrha said gently, "do you really think that I'm the kind of person who would be unappreciative of something so heartfelt?"

Jaune laughed embarrassedly. "Well, when you put it like that," he muttered, "I guess I have to play it for you now, don't I?"

"For all of us," Sunset said, "having whetted our curiosity."

"No," Pyrrha said. "No, I don't think that's necessary at all, not unless Jaune wishes it so."

"Oh, come on!" Sunset cried. "At least sing us a few bars of it."

"I'd like to hear it too," Amber said, "but Pyrrha's right; it ought to be for her, and her alone, at least at first. It's her song, after all; Jaune wrote it for her, she should be the only audience."

Ruby thought that wasn't exactly why Pyrrha wanted to be the only one to hear it — it was as much about sparing Jaune any embarrassment, or so she thought — but Amber had a point, and a sweet point, and a point well made at the same time, so as much as she would have kind of liked to hear it too, she let it go.

"Thank you, Amber," Pyrrha said. "Did you have a nice time today?"

"Yes, yes, I did," Amber replied. "Yes, I really did. Vale … Vale was loud and crowded, and I'm glad to just have this moment to sit somewhere quiet, even it isn't so quiet with us here—"

"As I said," Sunset cut in.

"But Vale was … completely wonderful, too," Amber said, sighing softly as she said it. "It's just…"

"Just like Professor Ozpin said it would be?" asked Ruby, prompting Sunset to look around at Amber.

Amber frowned. "I … suppose so," she muttered.

She really didn't like him, did she? The same as Pyrrha. It was kind of funny really; Sunset had been ice cold on Professor Ozpin, then warmed up to him, but Pyrrha had gone cold on him now to balance it all out. Ruby … Ruby wasn't surprised that Pyrrha had gone cold upon the headmaster, what he'd asked her to do … well, it would be enough to make anyone take a second look at someone, wouldn't it? Especially kind of out of the blue like that, come down into this vault and do this thing that might kill you. It was more surprising to Ruby — a lot more surprising — that Sunset was still warmed up to him, for want of a better word. It was a little surprising that Pyrrha had started calling him 'Ozpin' like that — even when she didn't like him, Sunset had called him 'Professor Ozpin'; Ruby was surprised that Pyrrha had that much disrespect in her — but it was a whole lot more surprising that Sunset didn't hate him for what he'd tried to do to Pyrrha.

There weren't a lot of people who could do things to Pyrrha and not incur Sunset's undying hatred in doing so; the only two people Ruby could think of who could get away with it were Professor Ozpin … and Cinder.

That probably wasn't a list that Professor Ozpin would be flattered to know he was on, would it?

Mind you it showed … what did it show? Did Ruby even want to know what it showed? Did it show that Sunset trusted Professor Ozpin, or just that she thought he was evil but that that wasn't a dealbreaker for her?

Probably the first one, given that she kept trying to get Amber to forgive him in ways that she never tried to get anyone to forgive Cinder.

Ruby wondered if Princess Celestia had anything to do with the way that Sunset didn't seem to be down on Professor Ozpin for what he'd tried to do? She knew that Sunset had spoken with her old teacher, even if she didn't know what they'd said to one another.

Sunset was very fond of comparing her situation with other peoples, as if it were the only way she could really relate to them; maybe she could forgive Professor Ozpin because she'd forgiven Princess Celestia, and thought Amber should do it for the same reason.

That … that might well be it.

Jaune, meanwhile, was as cold on Professor Ozpin as Pyrrha was.

Ruby could understand that, too.

As for herself … Professor Ozpin was trying to do the right thing. It wasn't the nice thing, it wasn't always a thing that they — Team SAPR, or anyone else for that matter — wanted, but it was the right thing. That wasn't always easy, as Ruby had found out when Uncle Qrow had put the terrible choice to her, and so she had to respect Professor Ozpin's ability to follow through with it.

He was… he was a strong man, Ruby didn't think that that could be denied.

And Ruby did not envy him one little bit. She found herself very glad that she wasn't in his position, deciding who had to die so that others could live.

She couldn't imagine how he did it, day after day, and losing so many people along the way.

He must have numbed his heart, or he would never stop crying.

And the thought of that made Ruby feel a little bit like crying herself.

"Ruby?" Penny asked, breaking into Ruby's thoughts. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah!" Ruby said quickly, and a bit too loudly. "Yeah, I'm fine, Penny. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" asked Amber. "Do you want to go inside?"

"No," Ruby said. "No, I'm really okay; I was just thinking, that was all. Got carried away by them a little bit."

"Ah, I see," Amber murmured. "I suppose this place is conducive to thinking. Do you come here often?"

"Sometimes, yeah," Ruby replied. "Not a lot of people do, so it's pretty quiet apart from the chickens. It's … it's kind of like a secret hiding place, almost, just one that everyone could find if they actually wanted to."

Amber laughed. "Those are the best hiding places. The ones that people haven't found, yet they might find, but the ones that people just don't want to go to, well … they'll never want to go there, will they?"

Ruby grinned. "Exactly."

Amber glanced down at her lap. "Thank you all," she said, "for a fantastic day today."

"It isn't over yet," Penny pointed out. "We're all still here, and the light is amazing at this time of day. Night. The light is amazing at night."

"Sunset," Sunset said. "Sunset is amazing."

"We know you are," Ruby said. "But what's the light like?"

Sunset snorted. "That was…"

"It is nice to look at," Amber agreed. "It is nice to be here, with you, at the end of a good day, in a place like this." She leaned her head upon Dove's shoulder. "I wish that things could stay this way forever."

"What if they could?" asked Penny.

"I don't think it works like that, Penny," Sunset said.

"But why not?" Penny asked. "Why should Amber have to go anywhere she doesn't want to? Why should she be forced to do … anything? What if … what if you wanted to stay here, with us?" she asked, looking at Amber now.

"It would be dangerous for her," Ruby said, "to be somewhere she could be found."

"It was dangerous today," Penny pointed out, "but we protected her. It ought to be Amber's choice, not Professor Ozpin's or anyone else's. If … it ought to be Amber's choice."

That … was hard to argue with. Ruby would go even further than that and say it was impossible to argue with. Yes, Amber was a Maiden, and that meant that she was in danger from Salem's forces; you could even say it meant that she had responsibilities beyond what she wanted. But you could say the same about Penny, that she had been created by Atlas, that she owed them, that she had responsibilities towards them, to serve the kingdom, to fight for them.

Except that nobody — at least nobody sitting here — had actually said that, because that would have been stupid and wrong. Nobody owned Penny, she was a person, she had her own will, she had the right to her own choices, and she had made her choice, to stay here, at Beacon, with them.

Why should Amber be denied the same choice? Why should she have to go into exile, to live in the shadows, to crawl under the bed with only Dove for company and hope the monsters didn't find her? Why should she have to do all of that if she didn't want to? If she wanted to stay here, if she chose to stay here, knowing the risks and accepting them, then what right had they, or Professor Ozpin, or anyone else to say 'no, you can't, you have to go'?

Just because she was a Maiden didn't make her Professor Ozpin's slave, or his soldier; he couldn't just give her orders and expect her to snap to it.

They — Ruby and the rest — were his soldiers, from a certain point of view, but … while spending her life defending Amber wasn't the top of the list of things that Ruby wanted to do either with her life or as a huntress, at the same time, it wasn't unworthy either. It was kind of like Prince Tristan, sworn to serve the Lady of the Forever Fall, only they wouldn't up sticks and leave just because Amber asked their name. Being a hero wasn't always about seeking the monsters out, as the stories made clear; sometimes, it was about protecting a specific someone in case the monsters came to them.

Sunset looked uncertain. She licked her lips. She opened her mouth, and Ruby, Ruby knew — by the look in her eye, by the slight clenching of her jaw, and simply by the fact that Sunset would put them all on leashes if she could convince herself it was for their own good … in a good way, or a fond way anyway — that she was going to object, to point out some problem, point out the danger, something.

"Sunset," Ruby said, before Sunset could say anything, "either the principle matters, or it doesn't."

If Penny deserved to leave Atlas, if Leaf deserved to go to Atlas, then Amber deserved to stay here if that was her choice. Either you had the choice, or you didn't.

Sunset's mouth remained open, but no words emerged. She closed her mouth, and then opened it again to say, "Valid."

Wow. Is this the first time I've ever won or the first time I've won so easily?

"What say you then, Amber?" Pyrrha asked gently. "If your will could have its way, what would you do?"

A bird cawed from somewhere in the night, a harsh cry like a raven or a crow, coming from somewhere Ruby could not see it.

"I…" Amber hesitated. "It doesn't matter. My will can't have its way."

"Yes," Penny said, "it can. Trust your friends and trust … trust that Professor Ozpin really does care about you and about doing the right thing, even if it doesn't seem like he does. Trust them, and you can do anything you want to."

Except that it isn't about doing the right thing, is it? Ruby thought. It's about being free to do the wrong thing. The right thing would be for Amber to hide and keep her half of the Maiden powers hidden.

She kept that thought to herself; it would only muddy things that were clear to everyone else right now.

Again, it took Amber a couple of seconds to say anything. "I…" She leaned on Dove. "I would like to spend more time with all of you. Some of you, I feel as though I know already; some you, I wish to know better. And I don't want to hide somewhere, with no one but … Dove, I love you, I love you more than anything, but with just the two of us … what if you grow tired of me?"

"That will never happen," Dove assured her. He sounded kind of amused as he went on, "But if you're trying to say that you'd like some other company than just me, you can say so; I wouldn't blame you if it were so."

Amber chuckled softly. "I don't want to hide," she said again. "I want to see Mistral with Pyrrha, I want to see all of Vale, I want … I don't want to hide, but … but I don't think that I want to stay here either, with all of these weapons and all of you training to fight and kill and die, it…" She shuddered, her whole body trembling. "I don't like it here," she said. "I wish I were somewhere else. So, I suppose, the answer to what I want is … I don't know.

"I just don't know."

XxXxX​

Lyra plucked at the strings of her harp, her fingers nimbly dancing from one to the other, a soft and calming melody emerging as each string vibrated in turn.

"Once, like a dream," Lyra crooned, eyes closed, her voice shifting up and down somewhat as the words emerged. She was on her feet, the better for her diaphragm, pacing up and down in her boots as she sang.

"Once, like a dream," she repeated, "he looked at her.

"And everything felt new." She stopped singing, the sound of the harp ceasing also as her fingers were stilled. "You know, for one of the great love songs, this gets awfully sad later on."

"A lot of love songs are sad," Bon Bon murmured from where she sat on her bed, not really looking at Lyra, rather looking at her own leg where it was crossed upon her other knee. "A lot of love stories, too."

"I suppose so," Lyra admitted, "but this one sounds like one of them's died."

Bon Bon looked up. "You think so?"

"Don't you?"

"I haven't studied the song," Bon Bon replied.

Lyra began to play again, her fingers moving as swiftly and as nimbly as before, the sound emerging from the harp as sweetly as before. "Some people fall in love for life,

Others never get it right,

Love's fickle when it calls.

One thing that I know for sure,

Longer than our lives endure. 'Longer than our lives endure,' if you please, now what's that supposed to mean except that somebody's died?"

Bon Bon shrugged. "You're probably right," she said in an even tone. "But so what? It's a sad love song. Like I said, a lot of love songs and stories are sad."

"But not this one," Lyra declared. "Not Dove and Amber, their story has come back from the brink for a happy ending. No, I can't play Forever Fall for them, even if it is one of the great Valish folk songs; it's too miserable. I need something with a bit more … well, something with the promise of a happy ending would be a start, something fitting for their story."

She turned away, her cape swishing about her as she resumed her pacing up and down in the dorm room.

"Their story isn't over yet," Bon Bon muttered.

Though she had spoken more to herself, it was her misfortune to have spoken the words aloud, and so for Lyra to have heard them too.

She turned to face Bon Bon, looking down on her, a slight glint in her gamboge eyes as she began to play again, a tune that was perhaps a little less melodic than before, but with a rhythm to it that made it sound well suited to the plucking of the harp, bouncing rapidly from note to note as Lyra's fingers danced the strings.

"What's the matter with you, my lass?

And where's your dashing Lyra?

Them huntsman boys have picked her up,

And taken her far from me!"

Bon Bon looked up. "Huh?"

"What's the matter?" Lyra repeated.

"Nothing," Bon Bon said.

"I know that's a lie," Lyra answered. "Because if nothing was up, you would have answered that first verse with 'and I wish they would' or something like that."

Bon Bon was silent for a moment. "It, uh … it's been a while since you last played that harp. Not since…"

Not since we lost Sky.

Lyra smiled out of one corner of her mouth. "Yeah," she admitted. "Yeah, it … it felt … I mean, it's stupid; I'm sure that if Sky were here, he wouldn't have wanted us to go around being all grim and miserable for his sake—"

"A point you made to me, if I recall," Bon Bon said softly.

"I … might have said something to that effect, yeah," Lyra replied. "But all the same, it … well, I hope I was right about what I said, because otherwise, he's going to be upset with me, but all the same, it … it didn't feel right, you know."

"He thought you had a great voice," Bon Bon told her. "He thought you played really well."

"I know," Lyra murmured. "But all the same, it didn't feel right. Or perhaps it didn't feel right because he liked it so much. It felt … disrespectful. That's why I put it away."

"But not anymore," Bon Bon pointed out.

"No," Lyra agreed. "Not anymore. Hopefully … hopefully, Sky is okay with us … moving on. With finding some joy. Amber … and Dove … they've brought joy back into the world."

Bon Bon couldn't help but smile at that, if only a little. "Have they now?"

"Yes!" Lyra cried. "I mean, don't you think so? Isn't it … it's like a miracle or something, she was … we all thought she was dead, let's be honest about that; we couldn't find her, nobody could tell us anything—"

"Nobody chose to tell us anything," Bon Bon corrected her. "Or else they chose to lie."

Lyra ignored that, ploughing on ahead regardless. "It seemed like she must have died on the way here. Died on the road, or else…"

"Or else she didn't love him as much as he loved her," Bon Bon supplied the thought that had crossed both their minds upon occasion when it came to contemplating Dove's forlorn search for Amber and her apparent failure to meet him as she'd promised.

Lyra nodded. "I preferred to think she was dead, almost. Dead like the singer of Forever Fall." She plucked at her harp. "But now she's back! Well, not back because she was never actually dead, but now she's here! She's … she's here! It's—"

"The first good thing to happen to this team in a long time," Bon Bon said.

"Exactly!" Lyra cried. "Sky … Sky's gone, and he won't come back, and there's nothing that we can do about that but carry him in our hearts, but Dove … Dove gets to get it right. Dove has been blessed. Dove … it's like some god has smiled upon him."

"Let's not go nuts," Bon Bon said.

"She was in a coma for a year, and then she woke up," Lyra said. "What do you call that, if not a miracle?" Again she began to pluck the strings. "In this big world, I'm lonely,

And I am but small,

The angels in heaven don't care for me at all.

They've heard my heart breaking,

It rang through the skies. But when they heard Dove's heart breaking, they cared. They cared, Bon Bon, and they did something about it! This … this is the best thing that … this is the best thing," Lyra finished simply. "I just don't get why you can be like … like this?"

Because I know what's coming, Bon Bon thought. I know that Dove and Amber haven't made it to happily ever after just yet.

Cinder was still out there, and Tempest Shadow was still in here, and Beacon was a target for both of them, and neither of them would care whose blood they had to spill in order to get what they wanted: a golden crown, hidden somewhere in the school, a golden crown to place upon the head of Doctor Watts' unseen mistress, the guiding malice behind all things.

Sky was dead because of them. Because of her, because of Bon Bon, because of her foolishness, because of her weakness.

Because she had been — because she had allowed herself to be — involved in this, to be used, to be flattered, to be manipulated.

Because she had been too weak to do anything about it.

Because of that weakness, Sky was dead. Because of her weakness, there would always be an empty bed in Team BLBL's room.

Because she had drawn them into this. Into a struggle they hadn't been aware of.

While this battle was fought over Beacon, neither Dove nor Amber could be counted safe from it.

Bon Bon had been too much of a coward to do anything about that fact up until now; she had put Lyra at risk, she had put Dove at risk, she had told herself with weak and faltering conviction that she could protect them, but the truth was that was nonsense.

She could save no one. Not even herself.

All she could really have said in her own defence was that Lyra and Dove — and Sky too — had volunteered for this life and the risks that it entailed. But Amber … Amber was not a huntress. Amber was just Professor Ozpin's niece; she hadn't chosen to be involved in this. She had already suffered from a tangential connection to Professor Ozpin, attacked because she was his relative, but now…

Brought to Beacon to be safe, only to end up in far greater danger.

Lyra was right, this was a miracle. This was a happy story in a sea of darkness. This was hope incarnate. This was … this was something to believe in.

Team BLBL was not a good team. Dove was good, and Bon Bon was better than she let on, but Lyra was painfully below average, a far better singer than a huntress, and even with Dove's help, they would never be heroes. They would never be great huntsmen, their names renowned. They would, at best, reach the level of painfully average.

But they could be happy. Dove, at least, could be happy, with Amber.

So long as nothing happened to them here at Beacon because of Cinder, or Tempest, or Bon Bon's folly.

She was fairly sure that Team SAPR were on guard against Cinder, if they knew half as much as she thought they did, but Tempest … nobody knew about Tempest; Tempest was free to do as she liked. Tempest was making her plans.

I can't let Dove and Amber get caught in the middle of this.

I'll … I'll go to Rainbow Dash, I'll tell her everything, I'll swear on the honour of a Canterlot Girl, she'll believe me, we were at combat school together.

She'll believe me when I tell her that I've betrayed them all.

I'll tell her about Tempest, I'll tell her everything.

And then … and then she'll kill me, or lock me up.

Bon Bon felt a sinking feeling in her stomach as she imagined the outrage, the fury in those magenta eyes, the hands at the end of those muscular arms balling into fists, and she realised with a chill that even the courage required to confess to Rainbow's face would be beyond her.

I'll leave her a message, and then run away before she hears it.

I'll go to Vacuo and find some sand to crawl into and hide from Rainbow Dash and Doctor Watts, who isn't likely to be very happy with me either.

She got up.

Lyra blinked. "Bon Bon?"

"I'm just stepping out for a bit," Bon Bon said. "I just … need some air."

Lyra frowned. "Seriously, what is with you?"

"I … I'm fine," Bon Bon insisted.

"No," Lyra said. "You're not."

Bon Bon hesitated. "No," she admitted. "I'm not." Because I'm never going to see you again. "But everything is going to be okay, including me; I just need to go out for a second."

She walked to the door before Lyra could protest any more, throwing it open and striding through it. She walked quickly, down the corridors and the staircases, her pace quickening with every other step she took as she went from striding to power walking to almost marching at the double quick as though a snare drum's rapid tattoo urged her on, until she was running, running as fast as she could, footsteps hammering on the floor as she burst out of the dorm room and into the night, running across the courtyard, running beneath the statue of the huntsman who seemed to glare down at her in disappointment, running, running, running until she came to the cliffs.

There was no one here. There was rarely anyone here. Sometimes students might come down here for private romantic rendezvous, but if she'd seen any of them tonight, Bon Bon would have gone somewhere else; there were other, only somewhat less secluded spots, but this was the most secluded.

Bon Bon's hands trembled as she got out her scroll.

She … she didn't really want to go.

But this was for the best, for Dove and for Amber.

All the same, she would delay the actual sending of the message, uploading it to the CCT and putting it on a delay to actually send to Rainbow Dash. That would give her a head start over the pursuit.

Assuming she wasn't too pathetic to be worth pursuing.

She started recording.

"Rainbow Dash," she said. "Hey." She closed her eyes. "What I'm about to tell you is the truth. It might not seem true, but it is.

"I am a traitor. I've betrayed Lyra, and I've betrayed myself as a Canterlot Girl, and I've betrayed you and Trixie and Ditzy and Applejack and everyone else too. I've betrayed Lyra most of all.

"This year, and before this year, I've been working for a man named Doctor Arthur Watts. You don't know him, but General Ironwood will know his name, I'm sure. And I've been working with Cinder Fall. Now I know you know who she is.

"I have no excuses. I don't even have a sympathetic motivation for why I did what I did. I could say that I haven't done much, and that would even be true, but I acted as though I was morally offended by Blake and her past even though I was as guilty as she was, I led my team to the Breach knowing what was coming, causing the death of Sky Lark, and I participated in the bombing of the Mistralian Embassy here in Vale and the murder of the Mistralian envoy Lord Kiro.

"And I did that alongside an Atlas student, Tempest Shadow of Team Tsunami. She's involved with Doctor Watts as well; I'm ninety-nine percent sure that Trixie isn't and that she doesn't know anything about this, I'd stake my reputation on it if I had one, but Tempest absolutely is. She's … Doctor Watts likes her better than me. I'm sure she knows where Cinder is. I don't know that, but if you make Tempest talk, I'm sure you can snap her up as well.

"I've been a pretty rubbish villain, all things considered, which maybe isn't too surprising, considering that … gods help me, I wanted to be you. I wanted Lyra to look at me the way Twilight looks at you, I wanted … I did whatever Doctor Watts asked of me because he seemed like he trusted me the way that General Ironwood trusts you. I wanted everything you had, and I was willing … I was willing to let people get hurt in order to get it.

"You might wonder why I'm telling you this now, and honestly, it's because of a girl named Amber. Maybe you've met her; she's tight with the Sapphires right now. She's also Dove's girlfriend. No, she's more than his girlfriend, she's … she's his one true love, if that doesn't sound too ridiculous. For some people, it would be ridiculous, but I can believe it of Dove because he's … that kind of person.

"I don't want to see them get hurt. They deserve their happy ending, and I won't be a part of them not getting it.

"I wish I could tell you all about Cinder's plans, but I don't know what they are. I cut ties with Cinder after the Breach; my only contact is Tempest now, and she keeps things to herself. But Beacon still isn't safe, although maybe it will be with Tempest out of the way.

"Take care of Lyra for me."

She stopped the recording, and with a push of a button on her thumb, she uploaded it onto the CCT network. Unless she stopped it, the message would be sent to Rainbow Dash in twelve hours' time.

Best catch an airship then, hadn't I?

Nevertheless, Bon Bon stood still. She didn't move. She was rooted to the spot like one of these trees that grew just behind the cliffs.

She really didn't want to go.

But she didn't really want to stick around at this point either.

Leaving was for the best for all concerned.

"Hello, Sweetie," the voice of Tempest Shadow intruded upon her thoughts. "How lucky meeting you here. I was hoping to talk to you somewhere private."

Bon Bon reminded herself that she wouldn't have to put up with this for much longer as she turned around. Tempest stood a few feet away, bathed in moonlight, making her tall crest of hair seem to glow a little bit. Her tone had been playful, but there wasn't a smile or even a smirk on her face.

Her eyes were hard and cold as they stared right at Bon Bon.

"What do you want?" Bon Bon asked.

"Brusque," Tempest remarked. "Is something wrong?"

"Everyone keeps asking me that."

"Maybe you should modify your behaviour so they stop," Tempest suggested. She took a step forward, closer to Bon Bon. "You were with someone today, a girl named Amber."

Bon Bon's eyes narrowed. What does Amber have to do with this?

Was it … was it Cinder who attacked her? But why? Because she's Professor Ozpin's niece, so what?

"I was," she agreed. "What's it to you?"

Tempest hesitated for a moment. "That girl," she murmured. "She … she is important in all of this. She has … she has to die."

Bon Bon's eyes widened. No. No, it can't be. Not Amber, not Dove.

One thing that I know for sure,

Longer than our lives endure.

No.

"No," she whispered. "No!"

"Yes," Tempest insisted.

"She's Dove's girlfriend!" Bon Bon cried. "He loves her!"

"And that's a pity," Tempest said, "but nevertheless—"

Bon Bon hit her, punching her on the jaw hard enough to send Tempest's head snapping around, to twist her shoulders and her body around besides, but her own fist got a bit of a shock as well; her aura flared as the blow landed as though she'd just tried to punch the cliff face behind them.

It was only with restraint and self-control that Bon Bon was able to stop herself from wincing or shaking her hand free.

Tempest was still for a few seconds, her body in that twisted unnatural position it had been in after that punch. She didn't speak. She still didn't speak as she gradually restored herself to a normal stance.

"What has gotten into you?" she asked.

"You," Bon Bon growled, "are going to leave Amber alone."

"I can't do that," Tempest replied, infuriatingly calmly. "Neither of us can."

"Why not?" Bon Bon demanded. "What makes Professor Ozpin's niece so important—"

"Is that what they told you?" Tempest asked. "Amber is so much more than that. She has … she has a power. A power that is the only way to get what we want. Cinder was supposed to take the power for herself, but — being Cinder — she bungled the job and only has some of the power."

And I suppose that put Amber in a coma for more than a year, Bon Bon thought as everything started to make sense in her mind.

"When she dies," Tempest went on.

"Amber is not dying," Bon Bon declared. "Not by your hand or Cinder's."

Tempest's eyebrows rose. "You seem to think you're in some position to give orders," she said.

Bon Bon permitted herself a smirk. It had all fallen into place in her head; she had it all worked out. "I've sent a message," she said, holding up her scroll. "It's already loaded up onto the CCT, and if I don't stop it, it will be sent to Rainbow Dash, telling her everything about you, and Doctor Watts, and what we've done, and what you're planning to do."

Tempest's lips curled into a sneer. "You're bluffing."

Bon Bon pressed her thumb against her scroll.

"Rainbow Dash," Bon Bon's recorded voice emerged from her scroll. "Hey." She closed her eyes. "What I'm about to tell you is the truth. It might not seem true, but it is.

"I am a traitor. I've betrayed Lyra, and I've betrayed myself as a Canterlot Girl, and I've betrayed you and Trixie and Ditzy and Applejack and everyone else too. I've betrayed Lyra most of all.

"This year, and before this year, I've been working for a man named Doctor Arthur Watts. You don't know him, but General Ironwood will know his name, I'm sure. And I've been working with Cinder Fall. Now I know you know who she is."

Bon Bon thumbed the pause button. "Do you need me to continue?"

Tempest stared at her. Her eyes had widened a little. "Why?" she asked. "You didn't even know that I was going to—"

"I was going to turn you in to protect Amber," Bon Bon said.

"What makes you think Rainbow Dash will believe you?" Tempest demanded. "I'm an Atlas student, I wear the white, I'm part of the sorority of sisters—"

"You're an outcast whose own team doesn't like having you around," Bon Bon replied. "You're not part of any sisterhood. You might wear an Atlas uniform, but you might also find that going around acting so aloof and so superior has its consequences. What do you think is more likely: that Trixie is going to go to the mat for you with General Ironwood, or that she'll say she always knew you were a bit of a strange one and all this is really no surprise? I'm a Canterlot Girl; Rainbow will trust me enough to act on this."

Tempest was silent. The slight tremor of her arms showed that she thought — she feared — that Bon Bon might be right. Her hands clenched into fists.

Bon Bon took a step towards her. "Go ahead. Kill me." She even deactivated her aura to make the job easier. "Snap my neck. If I'm dead, that'll just lend credence to my account."

Tempest took a step backwards, a scoff escaping from her mouth. "Why?" she demanded. "Why would you—?"

"For love," Bon Bon said. "Because someone deserves to be happy. Because they deserve to be happy. They're the ones who matter now. And so you are going to leave her be, you're going to leave them both be, I don't care what kind of powers she has, she's going to stay safe, or everyone is going to find out what you really are. But so long as you stay away, then I'll keep pushing delay on the sending of this message, and your secret will be safe."

Tempest scowled. She bared her teeth. She snorted. She huffed. She muttered. "You've grown a backbone. I don't like it. Doctor Watts—"

"I'm done with him, too," Bon Bon said. "Just like you're done with Amber."

This was … this was kind of perfect, honestly. Not for Amber, perhaps, except it was because Amber was going to be safe. Bon Bon would keep her safe, she would keep Tempest Shadow at bay, and she wouldn't even have to go anywhere. She wouldn't have to run away, she wouldn't have to reveal herself to Dash, she wouldn't have to leave Lyra. She wouldn't have to do anything she didn't want to do.

And she could keep Amber and Dove safe. It was like having her cake and eating it too.

Tempest glowered at her but said nothing before she turned and stalked away.

She was impotent. There was nothing she could do. She couldn't get to Amber while Team Sapphire was guarding her, and she couldn't do anything to try and get at Amber without Bon Bon exposing her, which meant that she would have to flee like Cinder and lose all chance of getting the prize hidden away at Beacon.

She was toothless. And Amber was safe.

Everything was going to be just fine from now on.

XxXxX​

Blake's scroll buzzed.

"Who is it?" asked Nora.

Blake got her scroll out. "It's from Sun," she announced to the dorm room, "letting me know that the qualification tournament went well."

"So he got in, then?" Nora asked.

"I doubt he'd tell me that it went well if he didn't," Blake replied. She put her scroll back. "If he didn't qualify, he'd probably be too busy looking for a place to hide from his irate teammates."

Yang snorted. She was sat down upon her own bed; she paused in the act of taking off one of her boots. "You know, it's funny," she said, "but at the same time … it kind of isn't. I mean, I guess it doesn't matter since he's ditching them again to go live in Mantle, but … he's their team leader; it's not a good thing that they seem to hate him."

"Neptune doesn't hate him," Blake pointed out.

"That's one; what about the other two?" Yang replied. "It's no way to run a team. Or to expect a team to function properly."

"You … aren't wrong," Blake admitted. "Although, as you say, it doesn't much matter now. He'll be leaving, and … and they…"

They'll be carrying on with three members. Like Team YRBN or YRN or YR_N or however they end up referring to themselves or being referred to.

"Hey," Nora said, vaulting over Ren's bed — Ren's protests went ignored — to close the distance between herself and Blake. "Hey, Yang wasn't talking about you. You're not our team leader, for one thing." She grinned. "And for another thing, Yang and I are awesome enough that we can take care of ourselves and carry Ren without needing a fourth teammate."

Ren harrumphed. "I don't need to be carried by anyone."

"You do a little bit," Nora said, holding her thumb and forefinger close together to emphasise the smallness of what she was describing. "Sometimes, anyway."

"Nora's right," Yang agreed. "We're completely different from Team Sun."

"Have we ever actually seen Team Sun in action?" asked Ren.

There was a pause for a moment while they thought about it.

"We know that one of their guys was the only one who got in real trouble during that issue in the forest last semester," Nora pointed out. "That's not good."

"Mmm," Blake murmured. "Do you think they'll be okay without Sun?"

"Is Sun really that good that he can make a huge difference?" Nora asked.

"Sun is … good," Blake said. "I…" She searched for a way to phrase it without maligning him or seeming disloyal. "He's no Pyrrha or Yang, but he'd do well in some match-ups." She glanced at Nora, and ventured the slightest smile. "I think he might give you some trouble with how fast he moves."

Nora snorted. "Maybe he moves too fast for the hammer, but I don't meet many who can move too fast for the grenades, honey."

Blake's smile twitched ever so slightly up further. "Is he 'carry a whole team by himself' good enough? No, but then, who is? Hardly anyone, if anyone at all. Is he good enough to make a difference? Yes, without a doubt."

"So … what?" asked Yang. "Are you saying you don't want him to go to Mantle?"

"No," Blake said immediately, without a trace of hesitation. "No, if this is what he wants, if this is the course that he's chosen, then I want him to do it, especially since the flight from Atlas is easily doable." Her smile permitted a momentary show of teeth. "What I worry about is that if something were to happen to Neptune, then he'd blame himself if he found out."

"And if it did, and if he did, then you'd be there to help him through it," Yang told her. "Which is really all that you can do in the circumstances. You can't make the rest of Sun's team, or his old team, or his soon to be old team, you can't make them drop out, you can't whip them up a new teammate — although maybe they'll get one anyway, from somewhere. All you can do is hope that Haven's headmaster doesn't put them in any unnecessary danger and, if anything happens, be there for Sun."

She paused a moment. "You can't stop people from feeling responsible, even when there's nothing they can do. All you can really do is be there if you need it."

Blake nodded. "You're right. As so often."

Yang grinned. "Hard won wisdom that I'm happy to share. Hey, tomorrow, do you guys want to see if we can get some sparring in before Last Shot? I'll see if I can get Sapphire and Wisteria down there, and maybe some others too."

"Sounds good," Nora said, "but are Sapphire going to be okay, what with the new girl, Amber, and all?"

"She can watch," Blake suggested. "Or Rosepetal can stay with her."

"Or Rosepetal can stay with her, and they can all watch," Yang said.

"Right," Nora murmured. "That … I know she's Professor Ozpin's niece, but is this much security really necessary? Did Blake really have to help stalk her—?"

"It's not stalking; it's surveillance," Blake corrected.

Nora shrugged. "The point is, why?"

"Amber has already been attacked once," Ren pointed out softly. "And severely too, by the looks of it."

"Yeah," Nora admitted. "And that sucks for her, I get that, I'm sorry. But that … these things happen to people; it doesn't mean she needs a permanent bodyguard."

Yang frowned, but both she and Blake were spared having to answer Nora by a knock at the door.

Yang glanced towards it, then strode to said door, flinging the door open.

The door, thus opened, prevented Blake from seeing who was on the other side, but she did see — could hardly miss — the way that Yang stiffened up, the way she took half a step backwards, the way her back straightened.

"Good evening, Miss Xiao Long," Professor Goodwitch said. "Is Miss Belladonna here?"

"Uh—"

"Yes," Blake said, wondering slightly why Professor Goodwitch's appearance had so surprised Yang as she went to join her at the door.

And then she saw that Professor Goodwitch was not alone on the other side of the doorway.

Blake's ears pricked up. Her eyes widened. Her stomach fluttered with nervous anticipation as a single word passed her lips.

"Mom?"

 

[RedWolff]

Once again @ScipioSmith, thanks for taking the trouble to keep the SAPR Rewrite Vol threads updated over in the SV Forum as well.

I liked to refer to the SV Forum for the separate SAPR Rewrite Vol threads whenever I want to read the specific story arcs/chapter of SAPR Rewrite as the new chapters aren't mixed up with the old SAPR chapters like in the SB Forum and at FimFiction. Plus, I get to see the specific SAPR fan-arts and other media at their proper story arcs.

Thanks again for your constant updates at the SV Forum.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Kali

​

"Mom?"

Of all the people that Blake might have expected to see standing on the other side of this door, her mother was certainly not one of them. What was she doing here, in Vale, in Beacon? How had she known where and how to find Blake? What … what was she going to say to her, now that she had come?

Mom said nothing. Rather, she stepped forward, pushing the door open the rest of the way to give her space to enter — neither Yang nor Blake tried to hinder her in that, the former stepping back to give her the room — and enfolded Blake in her arms, drawing her in and holding her close.

"I've missed you, my little baby girl," she whispered.

Her cheek rested against the side of Blake's face; Blake could feel it there, warm against her own skin. She could feel her mother's hair brushing against her, tickling the side of her nose just a little bit.

She could feel the strength in her mother's arms as she held her, but she could feel the softness too; Mom wasn't willing to let her go just yet, but it was not uncomfortable.

Far from it, in fact.

And Blake could hear her mother's voice, hear the lack of anger in it, or disappointment. There was warmth there, and longing too, and a touch of sadness for which Blake supposed that she bore the largest share of responsibility, but there was no anger in it.

Blake relaxed into her mother's embrace, resting her head upon her shoulder, tentatively raising her hands up to join them around Mom's waist.

"I … I've missed you too, Mom," she whispered.

Mom held onto her, not letting her go. Blake might have felt that it was going on for a little while, but, well, she'd been six years away; that was long enough that Mom deserved a nice, long hug if she wanted one.

Professor Goodwitch cleared her throat. "Yes, well, if that will be all, ma'am? I'm sure that Miss Belladonna can show you back to the docking pads when you're ready to leave."

That prompted Mom to relax her embrace, although she kept one arm upon Blake's shoulder even as she turned away from her to face the professor.

"Yes, that will be fine," she said, her mellow voice acquiring a touch of a more businesslike tone, if only for a moment. "Thank you, Miz Goodwitch."

Professor Goodwitch nodded, or perhaps bowed her head — it lay somewhere in the space between the two. "Of course. I'm sure that Professor Ozpin would like to speak to you at some point while you're in Vale, but, for now, I'll leave you to catch up."

She turned away, and walked away, the carpet of the hallway muffling her footsteps as she went.

There was a moment of silence.

"Nora, Ren," Yang said, breaking said silence, although she kept her voice subdued while she did so. "We should go and take care of that … thing."

"Yes!" Nora squawked. "Yes, that ol' thing that we … need to take care of. We should totally do that now."

Mom laughed apologetically. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to drive you out of your room. Please, stay, it's alright."

"No, ma'am, it's fine," Yang assured her, waving off her concerns with a flap of one hand. "You don't want the three of us gawking at a moment like this."

Mom smiled. "That's very kind of you, Miss…" She glanced at Blake. "Blake? Aren't you going to introduce me?"

"You only just got here," Blake reminded her. "But yes: Mom, these are my teammates … my current teammates, Yang Xiao Long, Nora Valkyrie, and Lie Ren. They … they took me in after I had some trouble at school earlier this year. Everyone, this is Kali Belladonna, High Chieftainess of Menagerie … and my mother."

Yang smiled. "It's a pleasure, ma'am." She paused for a second. "And now we'll give you two some privacy. Come on, guys."

Blake retreated into the dorm room, drawing her mother — who still had a hand on Blake's shoulder — with her, giving space for Yang, Ren, and Nora to shuffle out, glancing at Blake and murmuring polite nothings to her mother as they did so.

Blake heard Yang knocking on a door — presumably SAPR's door, given the proximity — in the moment before the Team YRBN door shut behind them.

Leaving her alone, with her mother.

Her mother whom she hadn't seen for nearly six years. Not since she and Dad had boarded the ship bound for Menagerie and Blake had not.

It had all been very well-choreographed, so much so and so conveniently that Blake had sometimes found herself wondering if the whole thing had been arranged by Sienna Khan. The White Fang had wanted her father gone, and frankly, so had their sympathisers outside the movement; they wanted him to make way for a new approach, for Sienna, who had studied the tactics of the great heroes of the liberation struggle, the strategies that would lead them to the promised land. And, by that time, Dad had wanted to go as well; he was tired, worn out by failure and by the waning of support for him within the movement. But, by the same token, there was no desire to humiliate him either, to defenestrate him into obscurity. As Sienna had taken over the leadership of the White Fang, she had paid Blake's father a generous tribute, praising his eloquence, his dignity, and the energy with which he had inspired a mass movement. 'When the histories of our struggle are written, Ghira Belladonna will be justly remembered as a titan of the movement,' Sienna had said, before she began to turn the White Fang into the antithesis of everything Blake's father stood for.

But what to do about her father? How to remove him without shame or admission of failure, and how to prevent him from lurking in the background, a king over the water, a magnet for discontent and a source of interventions that the new High Leader might find unhelpful?

And just like that, the High Chieftain of Menagerie had died. An old man, he had no heirs of his body, and so the people of Menagerie had acclaimed Ghira Belladonna as their new High Chieftain, an honour he had, of course, graciously accepted. And so it had gone, almost like a dance: the Belladonnas gone to Menagerie, Dad resigning the leadership of the White Fang with his dignity intact and going to Menagerie where he would be far removed from the activities of the White Fang and in no position to comment upon the new direction in which his successor was leading them.

Very convenient for all concerned, but not for the one Belladonna who had not wanted to go to Menagerie, to abandon the fight in the kingdoms of Remnant, the Belladonna who had believed in Sienna Khan, her plans, her tactics, her proposals.

The Belladonna who had wanted to see it through, and in so doing had been forced to choose between her parents and her ideals.

The ideals that she had … well, either she had betrayed the ideals, or the ideals had betrayed her. The truth probably lay somewhere in the middle between the two.

That had been the last time that she had seen her mother, when she stood on the pier and watched their ship sail away. Mom had been standing on the stern, looking back at her, or at least, Blake had thought that she had been looking back, but when Blake raised a hand to her, Mom had only turned away.

It had been Sienna Khan into whose shoulder she had cried, while Adam had stayed with her that night so that she didn't have to be alone.

Whatever might be said about their goals, it could not be denied that they had used her kindly, and with gentleness.

I have no personal quarrel with either of them, or with most in the White Fang, only general arguments.

All of which thoughts were somewhat of a distraction from the present reality: her mother returned, with her, alone in this room.

She was alone with her mom for the first time in six years.

With her mom and a tied tongue.

She had no idea what to say. She had to say something, but … but what? What could she say that could scale the wall of six years separation, of the words said before they parted, of all that had happened to her since?

Mom's hug had been warm, welcoming, perhaps that should have been an invitation to Blake to speak, but … but still, she could not find the words.

"Why don't we sit down?" Mom suggested, picking up perhaps upon Blake's hesitation and uncertainty; she'd always been very perceptive. "That window seat looks quite comfortable."

She guided Blake to the window that neatly divided the dorm room in two, between the beds of Yang and Blake on one side and Nora and Ren on the other. The two of them sat down there, although the curtain was already drawn and there was no light coming in through the window, nevertheless, they sat, facing one another, sitting almost as if they were riding horses sidesaddle, legs skewed off to one side.

"So," Mom said, "this is where you sleep?"

Blake nodded. "Yes," she murmured. "This is it."

Mom looked around. "It certainly looks comfortable," she observed. "Although you don't seem to have done much to personalise it." She paused. "Is it at all awkward, sharing a room with a boy?"

"There's a screen there," Blake said, pointing out the presently folded-up green canvas room divider that sat between the beds of Ren and Nora. "At night, Ren unfolds it to separate himself from us girls."

She thought for a moment about the fact that she had never seen any such thing in Team SAPR's room when she had stayed there; it seemed strange to think that Yang or Nora might be more modest in such matters than Sunset, Pyrrha, or Ruby, but apparently, it was so.

"Ah," mom said. "I see."

The inessential smalltalk apparently exhausted, the silence returned, settling upon them with all the weight of the matters that lay between the two of them.

Blake looked down at her lap, and her hands which were balled up in her lap. "Are you … is Dad here too?"

"No," Mom replied. "He had to stay behind; his duties on Menagerie demanded his attendance."

"Right," Blake murmured. "His duties, of course." She hesitated. "Mom… what are you doing here? How did you know where to find me?"

"Not because you told me that you'd left the White Fang, or decided to train as a huntress, or that you were thinking about joining the Atlesians," Mom said, her voice sharpening a little like a cat extending its claws. "I was surprised to get a letter from an Atlas student named Rainbow Dash—"

"Rainbow Dash!?" Blake squawked.

"She sent me a photograph of you and a girl whom her parents confirmed to be this same Rainbow Dash," Mom went on, "and she told me that you'd left the White Fang, gone to Beacon, been exposed as having been a member of the White Fang, had it covered up by Vale and Atlas, worked with Atlas, were considering joining Atlas, and…" — Mom reached out, and took Blake's hands in her own — "and you'd done some things that hurt you." Mom paused for a moment. "Well … with all of that, how could I not come running?"

Blake was silent for a few moments longer. Rainbow Dash had written to her mother. Rainbow Dash had written to her mother? Rainbow Dash had written to her mother?

What right did she have to do any such thing? Who did she think she was, deciding what was best for Blake like that?

The same person who decides what's best for all her other friends?

That doesn't mean that she should do it to me; there are big differences between me and the likes of Pinkie or Fluttershy.

I'm going to kill her.

Blake looked into Mom's eyes, the golden eyes that Blake had inherited from her, shining with desire to help her daughter, in spite of all the time that had gone by and everything that had passed between them.

Or I might thank her instead.

"I … I…" I don't know where to start. "I'm sorry, Mom," she whispered. "You and Dad, you were right about the White Fang, about Sienna's vision, about the violence; I … I should have listened to you, I had no right to—"

"Shhh," Mom urged, "Shhh, it's alright, Blake; there's no need to go over all of that again. It's all in the past now. Washed away by the sea."

Blake looked away, looking at the red curtain that had been drawn across the window. "It's not that simple," she muttered.

"It can be," Mom said, reaching up and taking Blake's chin with one hand, turning Blake's head so that she was looking at her mother once. "If we want it to be. I didn't come here to fight with you about things that happened six years ago. I came here to see you now, my daughter, grown up to be a very beautiful young woman." She grinned. "Obviously, you take after your mother that way."

"Mom," Blake said, a little laughter touching the edges of her voice as she pushed her mother's hand away, a blush rising to her cheeks.

Mom chuckled. "There's that smile I remember." She waited a second. "You can tell me as much or as little as you like. There's nothing that I need to know, but at the same time, there is nothing, absolutely nothing, that I wouldn't like to know."

Blake bowed her head a little. Once again, she was left with the problem of where to start. There was so much to tell, six years to tell, but … but at the same time, she didn't really want to talk about those years with the White Fang, and in spite of what Mom had said, Blake thought it wasn't unlikely that that was really what Mom wanted to hear in any case.

"I … I left the White Fang a little over a year ago," Blake said. "I … it was all too much, it had gotten too much, the violence, Adam. It wasn't about results, it wasn't about making a point, it was just about killing, because we could, because we wanted revenge, it was about paying back the cruelty of men with even more cruelty. When I realised that, when I couldn't deny it anymore … I left. I left the White Fang, I left Adam… I was in Vale already—"

"But you could have gone anywhere," Mom said. "You could have come home."

Menagerie is your home, not mine, Blake thought, but it would have sounded like a rebuke to have said so, and a rebuke was not merited.

"Could I have?" she asked instead.

"Yes!" Mom insisted, leaning forward. "Blake … there is no world in which we would not have welcomed you back with open arms."

"Even—"

"You're our daughter," Mom declared. "There is nothing that you could say or do to ever change that, or change how much we love you."

Blake glanced. "I … I love you too, Mom," she whispered, "and I'm glad to hear you say that, really, I am, but … I didn't go to Beacon just because I thought that I wouldn't be welcome in Menagerie; I went to Beacon because I know how to fight. It's one of the only things that I really know after five years with the White Fang. It's something I can do. It's something that I can do well, and just because I didn't want to fight for the White Fang didn't mean that I wanted to throw away Gambol Shroud and live in peace on Menagerie. I wanted to fight for something that was worth fighting for. And I found that in Atlas."

"In Atlas?" Mom repeated, disbelief in her voice. "So it was true what Rainbow Dash said, you are considering it?"

"I'm more than considering it by now," Blake admitted. "That letter is a bit out of date; I've turned in my transfer request already."

"To Atlas?"

Blake laughed. "I am as surprised as you," she said. "When I first came here, a year ago, if you'd told me that by the end of this year, I'd be leaving Beacon to go to Atlas instead, I would never have believed it. I mean … Atlas. And when Rainbow Dash and I first met, we hated one another. I thought she must hate herself and be ashamed of what she was to sell out her people that way, and she thought … well, the fact that she thought I was human didn't make it easier for her to hear what I was saying."

"'Human'?" Mom repeated. "Why did she—?"

"I was hiding my ears with a bow," Blake explained. "I didn't want to deal with being a faunus, even in Vale."

Mom raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "So you could say there was an element of projection involved in accusing Rainbow Dash of being ashamed?"

"I wasn't ashamed," Blake insisted. "I just … I was afraid."

"But not anymore," Mom observed.

"Not anymore," Blake agreed.

She paused, wondering how much to say, and how much not to say. She could say nothing about Salem and the rest, nor would she have said anything about that even if she could, but of the rest? How much did her mom really want to hear?

Everything, she had said, but battles with the White Fang? Was that really what she had in mind?

Perhaps, or perhaps not, but either way, it was difficult to deny their importance.

"The White Fang, Adam, they allied with someone," Blake went on. "Someone named Cinder. She wanted to bring down Vale, with the help of the White Fang."

"'Bring it down'?" Mom repeated. "What do you mean? The obvious meaning worries me."

"The obvious meaning is unfortunately correct," Blake replied. "The White Fang stole dust, lots of dust from all over Vale. I … got involved in trying to stop them, and so did Rainbow Dash," — she decided to elide over the exact how of both Rainbow and herself getting involved in that; it was a part of their relationship Blake preferred to forget and not one she wanted to colour her mother's view of Rainbow — "and so did Rainbow's team, and some other friends of mine you'll have to meet at some point called Team Sapphire, and … a boy, named Sun."

"'A boy'?" Mom said. "You said that very suggestively."

"No, I didn't!"

"Are there no boys on Rainbow Dash's team?" Mom asked. "Or this Team Sapphire?"

"Well, there's Jaune—"

"Then what makes Sun worth singling out?" Mom asked.

Blake paused for a moment. And then a moment more.

"Okay," she said, "we have gone out—"

She was cut off by the squeal of delight passing from her mother's lips.

"Now, this is the kind of news a mother wants to hear! What's he like? Is he broody?"

"Definitely not."

"Thank God for that," Mom replied. "I was worried your taste in reading had carried over to real boys. But what do you mean by 'have'? Did something happen?"

"In a…" Blake trailed off. "I haven't deserved him, not really. I haven't been attentive, haven't been there, haven't … I've asked him to wait while I put myself first, and now…"

Mom waited expectantly for further words which did not come. "'And now'?"

"Now," Blake said, "now, I think, things will be easier. Sun has found something to drive him on; he's moving to Mantle to … how much do you know about the latest scandals involving the SDC?"

"There are always scandals involving the SDC," Mom said. "Since I've been politically conscious, they've never amounted to anything."

"This time could be different," Blake said. "But I'm getting ahead of myself a little bit. Cinder leaked the fact that I had been a member of the White Fang. She wanted to punish me for interfering in her operations—"

"What does she want?" asked Mom, "a human working with the White Fang? I'm astonished Sienna trusted her."

"This was Adam's decision, not Sienna's," Blake replied. "As for what she wants … there are those who understand her better than I do, but I doubt even they could adequately explain her motivations. It's enough to say that she desires destruction and that she's dangerous."

"And vindictive, it seems," Mom murmured.

Blake nodded. "After my past came to light, I was arrested, briefly. Which is … it's when the Atlesians helped me. When Rainbow helped me. She convinced General Ironwood to get me out of prison so that I could help them deal with the White Fang."

"Not a completely altruistic gesture, then," Mom observed.

"I guess not," Blake admitted, "but far from a strictly functional one."

"No?" Mom asked. "It seems to me as though they were just using you."

"If they were just using me, they wouldn't have gone to such lengths to make me feel at home with them, comfortable with them," Blake responded, "and not just Rainbow Dash, but Twilight, Ciel, Trixie, Starlight, General Ironwood … none of them have treated me like an asset to make use of, but as … they've treated me like one of them. I'm not entirely sure why, but they did. They embraced me."

Mom frowned. "The White Fang embraced you once too," she murmured.

"No one from the White Fang wrote to you to let you know where I was or what I was doing," Blake responded.

Not even Ilia, who had always been ever so solicitous of Blake's wellbeing when they had been in Mistral together, had ever done that, but Rainbow had.

Mom nodded. "A good point, well made," she acknowledged. "What happened on those missions with Atlas? I know that something happened, Rainbow told me as much, although she didn't give specifics."

Blake frowned. "The … the White Fang, and Cinder, they tried to breach the defences of Vale and unleash grimm into the city. That's what the dust was for, a giant mine to blast through the defences."

"They really…" Mom trailed off. "My God, is that what the White Fang has come to? Have they really fallen so far?"

"I don't think Sienna would have approved, " Blake said. "At least, I hope she wouldn't have, but Adam…" It had come to the point where there was no avoiding it. "We stopped the attack, we repelled the grimm, but the White Fang … a lot of faunus died. Including Adam."

Her mother went very still, frozen in place, her grip on Blake tightening for a moment. "Adam? Adam's dead?"

Blake nodded. "I … I was there when Sunset..."

"You don't need to say it," Mom said, wrapping her arms around Blake again and drawing her in, turning Blake's head and resting it upon her breast. "My poor baby. I can't imagine what that must have been like."

"You're doing a very good job of pretending that you didn't hate him," Blake observed.

"What I felt about that boy doesn't matter right now," Mom said. "Only how you're feeling matters now."

Blake closed her eyes. "I don't blame myself anymore for what happened—"

"'Anymore'?"

"But that doesn't mean I don't regret his death," Blake went on. She pulled away from her mother, withdrawing so far that they could look at one another again. "I … I want a world where hurt and wounded people like Adam can receive help and sympathy, not be abandoned to sink further into bitterness and hate."

"A worthy ambition," Mom said softly. "And your road to making that dream come true lies through Atlas and its uniform?"

Blake paused for a moment, marshalling her thoughts like a general on a battlefield. "Dad resigned the leadership of the White Fang because peaceful protests, marches, and rallies weren't accomplishing anything. The authorities just ignored them. But the violence pursued hasn't accomplished anything either. Sienna said that those who ignored peaceful protest would listen to violence, but all they've done is fight back against it. So, with those options out, what remains? To work within the system, to rise within it, as high as we can, all the way to the top if possible. Then, when we are the authorities, we'll be impossible to ignore or refuse."

She paused, aware that that made her choice sound as cold-blooded and calculated as the Atlesian offer to keep her out of prison.

"And besides," she added. "I like them: the Atlesians, Dash, and all the rest of them. They have their faults, yes, as Atlas does: they're a little too pleased with themselves, their pride can sometimes stray into the ridiculous, but … with what they've built, I think they have the right to be a little proud. Their camaraderie, more than anything else, their togetherness, the bonds between them impress me and make me want to share in those same bonds, to enjoy the support of so many fighting alongside me, pushing. I can believe that I can do more in the Atlesian military than I ever could as a huntress, just as I believe there is a great well of righteousness in Atlas waiting to be unearthed from beneath the excesses of the Schnee Dust Company. And I believe that that unearthing may have already begun."

"Is this where we return to scandals in the SDC?" asked Mom.

Blake nodded. "The news doesn't seem to have reached Menagerie yet, but Rainbow and I uncovered a series of illicit facilities, operated by bad actors with the SDC; they … they were abducting faunus, to all intents and purposes, holding them as … slaves. We exposed this, Rainbow and I—"

"And nothing was done," Mom said.

"No," Blake countered. "Everything was done. The facilities have been shut down, those involved have been arrested, Mantle is on strike, the dust processing plants have fallen silent. A voice has cried out 'no more.' Everyone believes the SDC will have to yield and grant better terms and conditions to its workforce. And that's something we did, not the White Fang or Dad. I think … I think that proves I'm on the right path. And I'm on it with my friends. Even Sun—"

"Is he an Atlas student too?" asked Mom. "Or is he following you to Atlas for love?"

"Sun's going to Mantle," Blake replied. "Partly … for me, one of the signs I don't really deserve him—"

"In matters of the heart," Mom said, "deserving doesn't really come into it."

"Obviously," Blake replied. "Or else he would have dropped me by now. But it isn't just about me. It's about the people of Mantle, the people who are sometimes forgotten by Atlas amongst the clouds. The point is … it feels like everyone is on this journey with me, lifting me up on the wings of their belief, their confidence."

Mom was quiet, looking at her without speaking. "This … this isn't the life I would have chosen for you," she said, "but it is your choice, and, well, I can't really deny that it's a better choice than the White Fang. Are you certain that this is what you want to do? This is the life you want?"

Blake nodded. "I am. It is."

"You know that it won't be easy?"

"Is anything worthwhile ever easy?" asked Blake.

Mom smiled. "You have my looks, but in spirit, you take after your father: righteous and dedicated. I hope you fare better than he did." She paused. "If this is what you want, then … then what can I do but support you?"

Blake let out the breath she hadn't known that she was holding in. "Thanks, Mom, that … I didn't want things to be … like last time."

"Things are very different from last time," Mom assured her. "You're not a terrorist, for one thing."

Blake snorted. "Mom!"

"Well, it's true," Mom replied. "So, when do I get to meet Sun and Rainbow Dash? Ooh, how about right now?"

"'Right now'?" Blake gasped.

"I am here, after all."

"Sure, but you're going to be staying a little while, right?"

"Perhaps, but why wait?" Mom asked. Her eyes narrowed. "Unless there's something you don't want me to see or know about either of them?"

Blake would have welcomed the chance to give both of them a heads up about her mother's presence before they met her, but it seemed that would be a non-starter. Unless … yes, that might work, even if it would be a little rough on Rainbow Dash.

"Okay," she said. "You're right, since you're here…" She got up off the window seat. "Follow me."

XxXxX​

"So, Penny," Rainbow began. She hesitated, because this was kind of a selfish request, but at the same time one that she was well within her rights to make, she thought. Nevertheless, she chose her words carefully. "Now that you're transferring to Beacon, how would you feel about … not going through to the one on ones of the Vytal Festival?"

It wasn't just Penny that looked at her. Ciel and Twilight looked at her too, their heads and gazes snapping up from the book and drone that they had been reading and tinkering with respectively.

Midnight's holographic form appeared from out of Twilight's scroll. "That didn't take you very long, did it?"

Rainbow put her hands on her hips. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You mean to take Penny's vacant slot, I presume," Midnight said.

"Yeah."

"Mmm," Midnight replied. "As I said, that didn't take you very long."

"That…" Rainbow looked away from Midnight and returned her attention to Penny. "It's just that the whole point of sending you all the way in the Vytal Festival was supposed to be to complete your testing for Atlesian service—"

"And to allow Doctor Polendina to bask in his achievement," Ciel added, "even if the rest of Remnant was unaware of the nature of said accomplishment."

"That too," Rainbow acknowledged. "But you're leaving Atlas, you're going to Beacon, so I don't see why we need to finish testing you—"

"So that Penny has a better idea of her strengths and weaknesses before she goes to Beacon," suggested Twilight.

"Do you think you need that, Penny?" Rainbow asked.

Penny said, "Is this … is this about punishing me for leaving?"

"No!" Rainbow said at once. "No, Penny, this isn't a punishment; this is—"

"This is about the fact that Rainbow really wants to compete in the finals," Twilight said.

"Yes, yes, it is," Rainbow declared. "Yes, it is, and I'm not ashamed to admit it. I want this. I want to walk out onto that stage and represent Atlas and myself. I want to show what I've got. I've wanted that for years, since General Ironwood helped me get into combat school, since before then. I was willing to put all of that on hold for the good of the mission, and for your sake, but you don't want to represent Atlas. You want to leave, and that's fine, that's your choice, but I don't see why Atlas Academy shouldn't be represented by a student who actually wants to go to Atlas, and, you know, I don't see why I should have to be completely selfless about all this." She paused. "But, if you really want to fight in the finals, then that's fine. Take your chance. Show what you're made of."

"But you'd rather that I didn't," Penny replied.

Rainbow shrugged. "It's not up to me."

"But I don't think it should be up to me either," Penny said. She put down her scroll — she'd been reading about some more of those old Valish knights and the hunt for the crown that had seen one of them turned into a swan — and got to her feet. "I can't say that I don't like the way you've treated me like your mission, not your friend, and then turn around and say 'but it's your mission to send me through to the finals,' now, can I?"

"I mean, you could," Rainbow said. "If you wanted to."

"But I don't want to," said Penny. "I want … I do want to go through to the finals. I want to face Pyrrha, I want to see how much I can do, how far I can go—"

"Then—"

"But that only means as much as you wanting it for the same reasons," Penny said. "So, if we were friends and we both wanted to be the one from our team, how would we choose which of us went through?"

"Hmm," Rainbow mused. "Well, if neither of us were such good friends that one of us would get out of the way for the other, then—"

There was a knock at the door.

"Hold that thought for a second," Rainbow said, holding up one finger as she turned away from Penny and all the rest and strode to the door.

She opened it to find Blake standing on the other side.

Blake was not alone.

"Hey, Rainbow," Blake said. "I don't believe you've met my mom."

Rainbow opened her mouth and made a sort of choking sound out of her throat. Blake's mom? Blake's mother? Lady Kali Belladonna was here, standing right in front of her?

The Lady of Menagerie stood at pretty much exactly the same height as Blake, which was to say she was a little smaller than Rainbow Dash, although unlike her daughter, she carried herself in such a way as to make the height difference seem much less, if it existed at all. She looked … well, she looked a lot like Blake, to be honest; a few years down the line, for sure, but by the same token, ageing very well, she could have been taken for an older sister instead of a mother. She had the same golden eyes as Blake and the same jet black hair, although she wore it much shorter, down to the nape of her neck at the back without coming close to her shoulders, curling upwards at the tips to cut across her cheeks. Her skin was a little more tanned in colour than Blake's, but Rainbow was pretty sure that was more to do with there being more sun in Menagerie than anything else. Like Blake, she had black feline ears, but she had pierced them with gold earrings, two on one side and one on the other. She was dressed in a long white tunic-underskirt, visible through two slits at thigh-level on the black skirt she wore over it, and a white tunic with a silver trim at the plunging neckline. On both her arms, she wore long black arm warmers that extended up past her elbow on her left arm, the arm that Rainbow could see because she was also wearing a black snug with gold, leaf-patterned trim and one baggy sleeve covering most of her right arm. Around her left wrist, she wore a pair of solid-looking gold bracelets, and at the top of her arm warmer, she had a purple bandana tied around her arm.

There was a small, playful smile playing upon her lips as she took in Rainbow every bit as much as Rainbow was taking her in.

Rainbow felt her head spin. What was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to … etiquette. Etiquette. When meeting Mistralians … two years of this class and nothing on Menagerie?

Come on, it wasn't as if it was Vacuo!

Etiquette demanded a level of respect for foreign cultures — such as officers serving in Mistral bowing to Mistralian aristocrats — but it also said that this should only be done in Mistral, out of deference to the native culture, and not if they should happen to meet elsewhere.

That attitude didn't seem right in this case, with the Lady of Menagerie here.

Lacking any sense of what a Menagerite bow might look like, Rainbow used the old Mantle bow, which was never used in Atlas — who was there in the res publica to bow to? — but which was still taught as a kind of ornamental bauble — or maybe just in case of situations like this.

Rainbow dropped to one knee, hunching her back so she was practically doubled over, curling her right hand into a fist and placing it above her heart, bowing her head. A gesture of absolute obeisance, the gesture of someone who would obey their king in all things, even to the outlawing of art and expression.

"My lady," she said, "I am at your service."

Lady Belladonna had a laugh that was soft, like a shower that pitter-patters on the ground and refreshes without ever getting too uncomfortable. "Come, come, get up! There's no need for that, absolutely no need at all. I'm here as Blake's mother, here to speak to one of my daughter's friends, and it would be much easier if you would speak to me instead of the floor."

Rainbow hesitated for a moment, then, a little slowly — especially by her standards — she got up, retreating into the dorm room towards the back wall. "Would you like to come inside, ma'am?"

"I'd love to," said Lady Belladonna, squeezing past Blake to beat her daughter into the dorm room.

"Ten-hut!" Rainbow snapped.

Twilight scrambled to her feet, while Ciel by contrast made the move from sitting to standing at attention look easy, accomplishing the whole thing in a single motion that managed to look fluid even while possessing the required amount of snap. Penny had already been standing and, so, had a much easier task.

"At ease!" Rainbow yelled, and her teammates adopted the same stance as her, feet apart and hands clasped behind their backs.

"Is all this really necessary?" asked Lady Belladonna.

"Yes, ma'am," Rainbow said. "If we'd known you were coming, we'd have put on dress whites."

"Yeah, this is a surprise, isn't it?" Blake said. "Almost as much of a surprise as finding out that you had written to my mother."

For the first time, Rainbow caught the glint of irritation in Blake's golden eyes.

"I thought that she might write back," Rainbow offered.

"Oh, I'm far too much of a Curious Cat to send a letter when I could come and see my daughter," Lady Belladonna said. "Or talk to the author of the letter to me," she added with a smile, closing the distance between the two of them. "You look bigger than in your picture."

"Thank you, ma'am?" Rainbow ventured.

Lady Belladonna had gotten close enough that she could wrap her arms around Rainbow, pressing her body against that of the Atlas student for a second. "Thank you," she murmured, "for bringing me news of my daughter."

Rainbow felt her face heating up. "I, uh, it was nothing, ma'am."

"No," Lady Belladonna said. "To a mother, it was everything." She paused a moment. "I delivered the other letter to your parents; they confirmed that the girl in the photograph was their daughter, Rainbow Dash. And they kept the picture, just as you thought they might."

Rainbow swallowed. Her throat was dry. "How … how was it, ma'am?"

"Wet," Lady Belladonna said. She smiled. "And very endearing. You have very loving parents."

"Yes, ma'am, I…" Rainbow looked down at her feet.

"It's fine," Lady Belladonna assured her. "That's the wonderful thing about parental love: it's not conditional, and it doesn't run out."

Rainbow didn't know what to say to that, and so said nothing at all.

Blake came to her rescue. "Mom," she said, "let me introduce you to the other three members of Team Rosepetal: Ciel Soleil, Penny Polendina, and Twilight Sparkle. Ciel, Penny, Twilight, this is my mother, Kali Belladonna."

"An honour, ma'am," Ciel declared.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am," Twilight said.

"Yes, it's very nice to meet you," said Penny.

"The pleasure is all mine," Lady Belladonna. "You've obviously made quite an impression on Blake, and while I won't pretend I'm overjoyed at the idea of her joining Atlas, you all have my thanks for taking care of her."

"The lion's share of the credit in that belongs to our leader, ma'am," Ciel replied. "The rest of us have very little claim upon it."

"Mom," Blake said. "Is it okay if I leave you with the Rosepetals for a little bit and then bring Sun over here?"

Lady Belladonna's eyes narrowed a little, but her voice was pleasant as she said, "Of course, dear, if that's what you think best and your friends don't mind keeping me company."

"Not at all, ma'am," Rainbow said.

"Thanks," Blake said. "I'll be back … soon."

"Take as long as you need," Lady Belladonna said to her as Blake left the room

The door closed after her.

"Is there something about her boyfriend that she doesn't want me to see?" Lady Belladonna asked. "Is he fake, and she needs to get her story straight with an impersonator?"

"If that were the case, I'm afraid we wouldn't snitch on her, ma'am," Rainbow said, "but it isn't. He's real."

"So, you wouldn't tell me if she were lying, but I should trust you that she's telling the truth?"

"Yes, ma'am. Or you could just trust Blake."

Lady Belladonna laughed. "Yes. Yes, I suppose I could, couldn't I?"

"Would you care for some tea, ma'am?" asked Ciel.

"That sounds delightful, thank you," replied Lady Belladonna, "but you don't have to keep calling me 'ma'am."

"I'm afraid we do, ma'am," said Ciel. "Anything else, I fear, would be most improper."

She started towards the door, crossing the distance on a series of swift, martial, almost marching strides. She opened the door but stepped only halfway through it before she turned back to Lady Belladonna.

"I must confess that I had doubts about Blake at first, ma'am," Ciel said. "Doubts about her suitability, her attitude. But she really has done splendidly well, and I would be remiss not to say that we are very lucky to have her."

Lady Belladonna chuckled. "That is not something I need to be told."

"No," Ciel murmured. "I will be back shortly, ma'am."

She closed the door behind her and walked so lightly in the corridor beyond that she could not be heard outside.

"I … I should probably take the chance to thank you, ma'am," Rainbow said. "Without you, my parents, and my friend Gilda's parents, they would never have made it to Menagerie. I owe you a lot for what you've done to help folks like them relocate."

Lady Belladonna shook her head. "Paid in full," she replied. "Not even thanks necessary."

"If you say so, ma'am," Rainbow said. "Ma'am, about Blake joining Atlas—"

"Why do you?"

Rainbow's words stuttered to a halt. "Ma'am?"

"Why do you fight for Atlas, wear that uniform?" asked Lady Belladonna. "Your parents moved to Menagerie, but—"

"I stayed, yes, ma'am," Rainbow replied. "And I'm proud to wear this uniform."

"Why?" asked Lady Belladonna.

Rainbow glanced at Twilight. "Because it's where my home is, and my heart too. Because Atlas has been good to me, and I owe it to return the favour. Because there are people I love that I can't abandon." She smiled. "You know, ma'am, Blake couldn't understand it either, but I got a ton of reasons to go through spanning half my life if you've got time to listen to them all."

"I'm afraid that won't be necessary," said Lady Belladonna. "I suppose I'll have to take your word for it. You grew up in Mantle?"

"Low Town, ma'am."

"Ah, yes, the crater. I knew you couldn't be from Atlas proper, or your parents wouldn't have needed my help to go to Menagerie. If they'd even wanted to."

"Rainbow has spent a lot of time on Atlas," Twilight declared. "She lived with me for a while before we went to combat school."

Lady Belladonna's eyebrows rose a little. "Really? And how did that happen, may I ask?"

"Do you have to, ma'am?" Rainbow asked. "I don't see what the point of these questions is."

"You're right, that was prying, forgive me," Lady Belladonna. "But I'm curious as to who is leading my daughter to Atlas. You can understand that, surely?"

"The most loyal friend that Blake could ask for," Twilight said. "That's who's leading Blake to Atlas, ma'am."

"Rainbow Dash has always gone the extra mile to help Blake," Penny added.

"Your friends think highly of you," Lady Belladonna remarked.

"It humbles me, ma'am," Rainbow murmured, her shoulders sloping downwards.

Lady Belladonna paused a moment. "I notice that you didn't say anything about serving Atlas to help the faunus."

"No, ma'am, I didn't, but that doesn't mean … one of the ways that Blake has changed me is by making me more aware of what it means to a faunus, to be part of this struggle, for want of a better word. Which is ironic because I'm pretty sure Blake has become less concerned with helping the faunus and more concerned with helping everyone, but anyway … it would be great to rise high enough that I had the power to make a difference, but the truth is that even if I knew now that I was never going to make corporal, I would still want to wear this uniform because I'm not in this for myself. I might have done the best I can on my own for Atlas by giving it Blake, but even if that's true, I'm still proud to be a part of something so much bigger than myself. I'm proud to have something bigger than myself to believe in. Because … because Atlas is home, at the end of the day, or at least it's home to the people who are home to me. If I'm going to fight, then where should I fight instead?" She grinned. "I mean, how many reasons do I need?"

Lady Belladonna smiled. "Fewer than you have, I'm sure. And this latest business with the SDC doesn't change your mind?"

"We brought that home to roost, ma'am," Rainbow said. "If anything, I think that proves we're on the right track, Blake and I; we've gotten things done that no one else has."

Lady Belladonna nodded. "I suppose you have," she admitted. She paused a moment. "That picture you sent me made you and Blake look like very good friends."

"I know Blake would take a bullet for me, ma'am, no hesitation."

"And would you take a bullet for her?" asked Lady Belladonna.

"If I had to, but I'd rather take out the bad guy before they got a shot off if I could, ma'am," Rainbow replied.

Lady Belladonna smiled a particularly catlike smile. "And that, Rainbow Dash, is a good answer."

XxXxX​

Sun whistled. "So," he said, "your mom, huh?"

"Mmm," Blake muttered as the two of them walked down the corridor in the direction of the RSPT dorm room. Sun was holding onto her arm with both hands and leaning against her a little. It was … kind of nice.

Rather nice, in fact.

"My mom," she confirmed. "I'm sorry to spring this on you at such short notice. It was sprung on me at short notice too."

"Ah, it's fine, don't worry about it. These things happen," Sun declared. "I mean, who hasn't had their estranged mother show up out of the blue from another continent for a surprise visit after your best friend wrote them a secret letter without telling you?"

Blake looked at him.

"Okay, maybe that exact thing doesn't happen to everyone," Sun conceded. "But, you know, stuff happens, stuff comes up, you just gotta roll with the punches. Be like water."

"You're taking this very well," Blake observed a little sceptically.

"It could be worse," Sun replied. "It could be your old man here."

"Yes, yes, that would be worse," Blake allowed. "But even so—"

"The way I see it, this is an opportunity for me," Sun said. "I can win your mom over with the old charm." He winked.

Blake laughed softly. "Well, it worked on me," she said. "Hopefully, it won't work on Mom in quite the same way, but…" She trailed off.

"Is everything okay?" Sun asked.

"I just wish I could prepare you better for this," Blake murmured. "But I'm not sure how Mom is going to react to you. She seemed more enthusiastic about you than she did about anything else, like me going to Atlas—"

"Well, that's good, right?"

"If it stays that way then sure, but what if…" Blake sighed. "You have already put up with so much from me, the last thing I want, the last thing you deserve, is to face a grilling from my mom."

"Your mom can grill me all she wants; I only cook at extremely high temperatures," Sun assured her. He spun Blake around so she was facing him as he took both of her hands in his. "I am certain that your mom is going to like me, because in case you hadn't noticed, I am very, very likeable."

"It's come to my attention."

"But if she doesn't, then so what? I love you, not your mom. This time next year, you'll be in Atlas, I'll be in Mantle, and your mom will be back in Menagerie, and we won't be able to hear her talk about how I don't deserve you. This … it doesn't have to change anything, unless you want it to."

"No," Blake said firmly. "No, I don't. But, I also don't want to patch things up with Mom only to fall out with her again, so … let's call that Plan B."

"Where Plan A is the charm offensive," Sun said. "Got it."

Blake smiled up at him. "Right." She reached up and stroked his face with one hand, running her fingertips against skin weathered by the sun and hardened by the sand.

"I really don't deserve you," she murmured as her fingertips reached his hair.

"Well, too bad," Sun said, grabbing her hand and pulling it away so that he could kiss it. "You're stuck with me. So, any advice?"

"I haven't seen Mom in six years," Blake said. "I'm afraid that anything I could tell you would be pretty out of date."

"Into the unknown, got it," Sun said. "Which, you know, that's fine. I love surprises."

Blake patted him reassuringly on one shoulder as the two of them reached the door to the RSPT dorm.

The two of them stood, side by side, facing the door with neither giving any indication of their intent to knock on it.

"Should I have worn a tie?" asked Sun suddenly. "I feel like I should have borrowed a tie from Neptune—"

"Definitely not; my mom would have smelled the insincerity," Blake said. "Just be yourself, your loveable self."

"'Loveable,'" Sun repeated, "got it."

But there was no getting around it any longer.

Blake knocked on the door.

It was opened by Ciel. "Hello again," she said. "Would you care for some tea?"

"Um, okay," Blake said.

Ciel nodded, and stepped aside to admit them — back or otherwise — into the room.

Mom was sitting on the floor, scratching Spike on the belly idly with one hand, while a cup of tea sat on a coaster on the carpet nearby.

She looked up as Blake and Sun came in. "Ah, you're back," she said. "And you must be Sun." Her eyes travelled up and down him, seeming to pay particular attention to his bare chest. "Well, I can certainly see what Blake sees in you."

"Mom!" Blake groaned.

Sun laughed, although his laughter had a bit of nervousness to it as though he wasn't really sure whether he ought to be laughing. "Uh, thanks, Mrs B. Yeah, I'm Sun, Sun Wukong. It's great to meet you. You raised an awesome daughter!"

The smile froze upon her mother's face. "Well," she said quietly, "I didn't do all of the raising, did I?"

Sun squirmed. "I mean … the first twelve years?"

Mom remained quiet for a few seconds, before her eyes lit up once more, and her smile returned, seeming even brighter now.

"So," she said, "your Blake's boyfriend? I understand that she hasn't always treated you very well—"

"Mom."

"I'm sorry about that; Blake has always had trouble remembering other people's feelings."

"Mom!" Blake squawked. The fact that her mother was … not entirely wrong didn't make it any easier to hear.

"Nah, it's nothing like that; you're way too hard on Blake," Sun replied, waving away Mom's criticism with one hand. "She knows what she wants, and she goes for it. There's nothing wrong with that; in fact…"

Mom's eyebrows rose. "'In fact'?"

Sun looked down for a second. "Well, one of the things that makes Blake so cool is her passion and commitment," Sun said, starting off quietly, almost mumbling. "She stands up for what's right, and she doesn't let anything stand in her way. I … I've always been a 'go with the flow' kind of guy, letting things carry me along, just going where life took me, so … so when I see Blake facing up to all these obstacles, like when she sees a mountain coming towards her, and she thinks about how she can climb it, not how she can get out of the way, that … it awes me a little bit, and it inspires me, and I wouldn't ask her to change that just so that … just for me."

Blake slipped one hand into his and squeezed it gently.

Mom looked at her, one eyebrow slightly rising, the look on her face turning from smile to smirk.

Blake rolled her eyes. Yes, Mom, she was very lucky.

Very lucky indeed.

"So," Mom went on. "Where are you from, Sun? Or where are you from, son? Or where are you from, son Sun?"

"Vacuo," Sun said. "But I go to school at Haven for now?"

"'For now,'" Mom repeated. "Yes, you're becoming a delinquent, aren't you?"

"I'm going to help people," Sun said. "Instead of waiting another three years to—"

"Get qualified?"

"Do what I already know how to do right now," Sun said.

"In Mantle?"

Sun nodded. "That's right. In Mantle."

"But why?" asked Mom. "Why Mantle?"

"I … I guess I've been inspired to find a cause," Sun said. "I know I'm not the kind of guy who can change the world, but I can stand up for the little guy who might get forgotten otherwise. I … I've been lucky, growing up in Vacuo, not having to deal with what faunus have to put up with in a lot of other places. I can't make it so that faunus in Mantle don't have to put up with it, but I can … I can make things easier for them. Or at least, I hope I can." He smiled. "Plus, you know, it's a lot closer to Blake than Haven is. That's certainly a reason not to stay in Mistral."

"Well, quite," Mom purred, yes, purred. "And if you have the patience to deal with Blake, I'm sure you'll survive in Mantle, too."

"Mom!"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," Mom said. "But seriously: thank you all for putting up with my daughter."

"MOM!"

XxXxX​

Lady Belladonna had missed the last skybus flight from Beacon into Vale, so Rainbow flew her down in The Bus.

To be honest, even if Lady Belladonna hadn't missed the last skybus, Rainbow would still have flown her back in The Bus.

"You sure I can't drop you off right outside your hotel, ma'am?" Rainbow asked.

Lady Belladonna's voice was warm as she said, "Thank you, Rainbow, but no; the skydock will be fine."

"Then I'll have to insist on walking you to the hotel, ma'am," Rainbow replied. "I've heard there's a lot of anti-faunus feeling going around; I don't think you should be walking around a strange city in the dark alone."

"Your friend is very solicitous," Lady Belladonna observed to Blake. Lady Belladonna sat in the co-pilot's seat, claiming it was more comfortable than any seat in the back, while Blake stood behind her, both hands upon the back of her mother's chair.

"She's very protective," Blake replied.

"I care about the people I … care about," Rainbow said. "I make no apologies for that."

"And I wouldn't ask you to," said Lady Belladonna. "It's a dangerous world, after all. But you say that you've heard about anti-faunus sentiment?"

"I haven't been down to Vale recently myself," Rainbow admitted, "but I've heard about it from people I trust."

"Sun's experienced it," Blake added.

"I see," murmured Lady Belladonna. "I suppose this is to do with the White Fang attacks."

"That's their excuse, but that's all it is," Blake declared. "People feeling free to say what they were always thinking."

"I hope not," Rainbow said. "Or else … I hope they weren't all thinking that; I'd rather … I'd prefer if it really was the Breach and the White Fang."

"What would the Breach or the White Fang have to do with telling Sun to go home?" asked Blake.

"In my experience, you're both correct," said Lady Belladonna. "There are those who jump at the chance to legitimise awful views they has always held, but there also those who … had no great feeling for the faunus and recoiled from any overt racism but were susceptible to the course of events and the tide of public turning their concerns about safety into concerns about the faunus in general. What 's happening to the faunus in Vale, have there been any incidents?"

"Nothing big enough to be newsworthy," Blake said, "but that doesn't mean there haven't been any."

"Quite," murmured Lady Belladonna. "Thank you for bringing this up, Rainbow Dash."

"Uh, you're welcome, ma'am."

Lady Belladonna was quiet a few seconds before she said, "Can I ask you something?"

"You've asked me a fair bit already, ma'am; why stop now?"

Lady Belladonna laughed. "A good point." She paused. "Why did you write to me without talking it over with Blake?"

"I'd like to know that too," Blake huffed.

"Don't be like that; it's worked out okay," Rainbow replied.

She paused, shifting her posture in the pilot's seat, rubbing her back upon the back of the chair. With The Bus on autopilot for now, she looked at both of them.

"Hearing Blake talk about you, and about her father … it made me think about my own parents, and about the way I treated them," Rainbow admitted.

"You don't write to them very often, do you?" Lady Belladonna said.

"No, ma'am," Rainbow replied shamefacedly. "I … The point is that I wanted to apologise to my dad, and I knew that Blake wanted to apologise to her parents as well, only she was too worried about how you'd react." She shrugged. "So I decided to do it for her, because I thought it would do her good to hear from you, like I put in my letter."

Lady Belladonna smiled and kept her eyes on Rainbow Dash as she reached up to take one of Blake's hands. "Well, I'd say it all worked out pretty well. Wouldn't you agree, Blake?"

Blake snorted, but there was a fond smile upon her face as she said, "Yes, Mom, yes, I would.

"Thank you, Rainbow Dash."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Sonata's Plan

​

"How dare she?" Tempest snarled as she stalked up and down, her feet hammering the wooden floor beneath her as she pounded this way, then turned to head the other way.

Her hands were clenched into fists as she imagined bringing them down upon Bon Bon's face.

"How dare she?" Tempest repeated.

"Quiet!" hissed Lightning Dust. "If you keep shouting like this, then Cinder will hear it, door or no, and if not her, then Emerald. I'm sure that she listens at doorways."

"That's not very ladylike," Sonata said. "Or is it?"

While Tempest paced up and down in the sitting room of the old manor house, and Lightning Dust stood by the doorway, Sonata was sprawled out on one of the decaying sofas, seeming to not care that it was falling apart, that the cushions were wearing away, and that the wood probably had woodworm. Upon a table, in equally poor condition, she had an array of snacks laid out: crisps in open, half-eaten packets, candy — there were wrappers on the floor — and a big bowl of red fruit punch, that had at some point overflowed out of the bowl to stain the table underneath a dark red, like blood.

There was dust on the back of Sonata's jacket. She didn't seem to notice.

Tempest ignored her pronouncement, which might be true but which wouldn't stop Emerald from sneaking around if she thought she had to. There was a reason Tempest had tried to send her to her death: she was too firmly in Cinder's faction, and that made her a danger to the rest of them. She might discover things, hear or see things that Cinder was too proud, too high and mighty, to notice.

"And what if she does overhear?" Tempest asked, rounding to face Lightning. "What if she does discover that Amber is awake and runs to tell Cinder about it, what then?"

"Then Cinder will want to know why you didn't tell her about it," Lightning said.

"And I will say that I was going to, or that I meant to make her a gift of Amber's life," Tempest said. "And she will believe it. Or she won't. But what is she going to do either way? Is she going to complain about me to Salem, after all the scorn that she has poured on me for doing the same? No. No, she will spit, and hiss, and make some remarks which are intended to cut me, and then she will focus on Amber."

"Then why don't you tell her?" asked Sonata.

Tempest swung around to stare at her.

"I'm only asking," Sonata said plaintively. "Would anyone like some fruit punch?"

"Thanks, I'll pass," Tempest muttered.

And yet … maybe Sonata had a point? Maybe she should tell Cinder what she had seen. After all, it would be difficult for her to get close to Amber, with or — as it seemed — without the cooperation of Bon Bon, and if she did get close to Amber, then she would be exposed immediately, which would make her worse off than Cinder, a fugitive but without any magic to show for it. But if she told Cinder, then … then what? What was Cinder going to do about it, how was she going to get to Beacon?

What would she do, except perhaps call up Sunset Shimmer to ask her what was going on and thus expose that Salem still had eyes at Beacon? Ozpin would whisk Amber away into hiding. It was a minor miracle that he had not done so already; perhaps he needed time to make the arrangements, but even so, to keep his treasure exposed, to let her go into Vale? Reckless, utterly reckless.

But anyway, telling Cinder was not something that would help her at all.

"Cinder," Tempest said, "is just not reliable at the moment. We're going to have to take care of this ourselves."

"If we can," Lightning said.

"Yes," Tempest said. "If we can."

"Can't your Doctor Watts get Bon Bon's message out of the CCT so that she can't spill on you?" asking Lightning.

Tempest shook her head. "You can't hack into the CCT servers remotely, you need a hard connection in order to get in; that's why Cinder had to physically break into the tower."

"Right, of course."

"And even if we could delete the message, then so what?" Tempest asked. "She could just rat me out with her own voice."

"Kill her too," Lightning said.

"And get close to Amber how?" Tempest demanded. "Bon Bon would be my best chance if only she would … how dare she defy me, defy Doctor Watts, defy everything that we're working towards? How dare she put her conscience, her desires, her friends above our orders?"

"You know, you're sounding a lot like Cinder right now," Sonata observed.

"I am nothing like Cinder!" Tempest snapped. "I am … I am … I've got good reasons to be upset."

"Okay, okay," Sonata said, holding up her hands pacifically. She sat up. "But, you know, I'm sure that I'm just being completely stupid here, but … why do you need to kill this Amber girl at all?"

So that I can kill Cinder too and take her magic. "Because she is the Fall Maiden," Tempest explained, "and only a Fall Maiden can open the vault to recover the Relic of Choice—"

"Which is what you're here for, right?" Sonata asked.

Tempest nodded. "That's correct, yes."

"Sooooo," Sonata said, drawing out the word, "Amber can open the vault to get this relic you want so badly, but you want to kill her so that Cinder can get the magic and she can open up the vault and get the relic?"

"Yes, so that we can give it to our mistress."

"Right, right," Sonata agreed.

She began to giggle, her body shaking a little back and forth; she covered her mouth with one hand as the light, tinkling sound got away from her to fill up the whole room.

"What's so funny?" Tempest demanded.

"Oh, nothing, nothing at all," Sonata said quickly, the laughter dying. "Like I said, I'm just being stupid, I'm sure. But … what if you didn't kill her?"

"What do you mean?" asked Lightning.

"I mean … what if you didn't kill her?" Sonata repeated. "I mean … Amber can open the vault, right? Amber can give you the relic?"

"'Can'? Yes," Tempest said. "Amber can, any Fall Maiden can, or could, but why would she? She's Ozpin's Fall Maiden; why would she betray him, and everyone else, and give the Relic of Choice up to Salem?"

"To live?" Sonata asked. "I mean, if she doesn't, then you're gonna try and kill her, right? And Cinder will, and everyone else will, because Salem isn't gonna stop until she gets that relic, yeah? And that means she needs to get that magic, right? But if Salem had the relic, then she doesn't need the magic no more, and so … well, I don't know, but there wouldn't be any need to hunt Amber down, would there? She might not want a spot on the team, but she could go where wants to go, and there wouldn't be anything to worry about."

Sonata rose to her feet, humming softly to herself. The gem around her neck glistened as she advanced on Tempest. "I'm sure that's what she wants. I'm sure that's all she wants."

Tempest frowned. There was a certain underlying logic to it. In fact, from a certain angle, it was actually quite brilliant, in a way that seemed more and more compelling the more Tempest thought about it. Even with the powers of the Fall Maiden, they were suffering from the disadvantage of not knowing whereabout the Relic of Choice was; it was something that Lionheart couldn't tell them; it was apparently an incredibly well-kept secret, known only to the Fall Maiden and to Ozpin.

They had intended to get the information out of Ozpin, if at all possible, but that was likely to be difficult, and if they couldn't manage it, then they would be stuck searching the Beacon grounds and hoping that they weren't evicted by a counterattack before they found the Relic. But Amber knew where the Relic was, she was one of the two people who did, so if she was to agree to hand it over, well … she could. Who was to stop her?

There might not even be any need for a grimm attack after all. It was possible that Amber could give up the Relic without a shot fired or a sword drawn, without anyone ever realising what she'd done.

Not likely, unless Ozpin was completely blind, but still…

Of course, this all hinged on Amber being willing to cooperate. She might not. She might be a stalwart hero — Ozpin had chosen her as a Maiden after all — she might be the sort of person who would rather die than betray his trust, in which case, even approaching her was likely to get Tempest exposed.

I could get Bon Bon to do it, if she was willing.

Not that it will matter too much who approaches her if Amber's reaction is to refuse.

Again, there, Sonata had a point. She put it so simply, so compellingly, that Tempest wondered why she hadn't seen it herself. The Relic of Choice would buy not only Amber's life, but her freedom, too. Who wouldn't take such an offer?

A hero wouldn't. Was Amber a hero, as well as a Maiden? Was there any way to find out, without asking her about this?

Cinder was able to ambush her in the first place because she was running away, just like Spring. That doesn't suggest someone who is willing to risk everything for some higher cause.

"Besides," Sonata added, smiling up at Tempest as she put one hand upon her shoulder, "what have you got to lose?"

Another good point. It wasn't as though they could get to Amber in any case, not with hostile intent. Tempest might be disdainful of Ozpin's decision to let her wander around, but she was never defenceless. The chances of defeating her guard and breaking Amber's own aura and killing her before she got help or escaped … very unlikely, to say the least.

There would still be the matter of getting a private word with her where all this could be broached without her protectors, Ozpin's servants, hearing all about it, but that posed a less formidable challenge, especially if Bon Bon helped, since it seemed that she was trusted around Amber, at least a bit.

"What about Cinder?" asked Lightning.

Sonata cocked her head to one side. "I mean … what about Cinder?"

What about Cinder? What about Cinder indeed? It wasn't as though she'd been a lot of use recently. She had jeopardised herself, her magic, put the whole mission at risk through her desire to fight Pyrrha Nikos, and then she had wandered off again, and the fact that she'd gotten away with it only made things worse as far as Tempest was concerned.

She was not reliable. Her obsession with Sunset and Pyrrha … she was too wild, too untamed; she was not committed.

Salem deserved someone better, and for the Mistral and Atlas operations, she would have it: someone committed, someone loyal to her, someone who would act with obedience and diligence in all things, someone who wouldn't be dragged down with unwise attachments. Someone worthy to be the Spring Maiden, or the Winter.

Let Cinder be cast aside. It wasn't as though she'd have any right to complain about it, after her combination of disloyalty and incompetence.

"This…" she murmured. "Sonata, this is brilliant."

"Really? Oh, come on!" Sonata cried, waving the praise away. "I mean it's kind of obvious when you think about it, right?"

"Obvious to you, maybe, not to us," Lightning replied.

"Well, I mean, if you really want to give me the credit in front of Salem, I guess I can't say no," Sonata replied, shrugging her shoulders. "I don't know, it might even be nice."

"Yes," Tempest murmured. "Yes, that's what we'll do."

Salem would need to be told about this, a change to the plan this drastic, the sidelining of Cinder and Amber's … Amber's grace, for want of a better word, would need to be approved by Salem herself; only she could call off the beowolves and give Amber the safety that Sonata seemed to think she would choose. Yes, Salem would need to be told about this, and when she was told … why shouldn't Sonata get the credit she deserved? Why shouldn't she get to stand before Salem and say 'yes, this was me, I thought of this'?

Anything else would be just … it wouldn't be right, would it?

"We will take this to Salem, right away," Tempest declared. "She needs to know about this as quickly as possible."

"Yes!" Sonata hissed, punching the air with both hands even as she kept her voice down. "You guys are so awesome. So when are we going to do it, are we going to do it now?"

They did, indeed, go now; the three of them crept through the mouldering and decaying corridors of Portchester Manor, avoiding the areas where Cinder held court but keeping an eye out for Emerald wherever she might be sneaking about. There was no sign of her; she might be acting all lah-de-dah with Cinder in the library again. But they kept a lookout, nevertheless.

When Salem was not using it to communicate with her servants in Vale, the Seer rested in the ballroom. It sat upon the floor, looking less like a grimm and more like a crystal ball, albeit a very dark and dirty one, or perhaps one of those toys that you shook to get your fortune told.

Except that Salem wouldn't tell them to ask again later.

The Seer sat upon the dirty floor, the floor that was not wood as it was in so many other parts of the house but tiles, cracked and filthy. All the Seer's tentacles had been drawn up into itself and were invisible. The fangs around the bottom were still visible, but they looked less like teeth and more like a decorative base or stand for a curio or a paperweight.

The Seer was completely black, a deep and inky black that their eyes could not penetrate.

It was almost completely silent, but as they approached, Tempest thought that she could hear a soft snuffling sound coming out of it, like snoring.

Lightning shut the ballroom doors behind them as softly as she could.

"Heeeeey, Salem!" Sonata cried, raising her arms up into the air.

"Shhhh," Tempest hissed.

"What, you wanna whisper to the boss lady?" Sonata asked. "She'll think we're up to something. Aria's always up to something when she whispers. Unfortunately for her, Adagio has very good ears." She sniggered. "And besides, we needed to wake up that thing, right? What would have been the point of us standing here whispering while it just kept on lazing away?"

She had a good point, at least; her shout did appear to have woken the Seer up. Gradually, slowly at first, it rose into the air, and as it elevated, it began to glow, the deep blackness within illuminated by a golden light which didn't exactly reveal anything, but certainly suggested that there was something there to be revealed. The Seer rose up, its tentacles descending downwards as it rose. It rose until it was as high as Tempest was tall, and then it rose a little higher still, high enough that its tentacles didn't touch the ground as they fell down towards it, their sharp bony points separated by empty space from the faded tiles.

And then, lit up by the golden light within the darkness, the face of Salem appeared, looking down upon them.

"Mistress," Tempest murmured, as she and Lightning Dust knelt before her. Sonata remained standing.

"Sonata," she said, her voice disinterested, touched with a little disappointment, "I wasn't expecting that you would have anything to say to me."

"I get that a lot," Sonata said, clasping her hands together behind her back.

Salem glanced at Tempest. "Tempest. Where is Cinder? Or is it of Cinder that you wish to speak."

"I'm going to tell you how you won't need Cinder by the time we're done," Sonata said. "Does that count?"

Salem sighed. "I have no time to waste on distractions; you had best make this brief."

"Amber is awake," Tempest said.

Salem's expression did not alter. "You know this?"

"I have seen her," Tempest said. "With my own eyes."

The news still made no dent upon Salem's expression. "How?" she demanded.

"I don't know, Mistress," Tempest admitted, "but it is definitely her. She is at Beacon as we speak, protected by Ozpin's agents amongst the students."

"And she's going to give us the Relic of Choice!" Sonata cried. "Oh, sorry, were we supposed to be saving that for later?"

Salem's eyebrows rose a barely perceptible amount. There was still a lack of expression in that pale, corpselike face. "You have a plan, I assume?"

"Sonata has a plan, Mistress," Tempest said.

"Sonata?" Salem repeated. "You have a plan?"

"I get that a lot, too," Sonata replied. "How are my sisters?"

"Well enough," Salem answered. "As well as they have been."

"Can I see them?"

"If you want them to continue being well," Salem said, "you will explain your plan."

"Okay, okay, I was only asking," Sonata said. "As for my plan, well, it's pretty simple really. Amber is going to give you the relic, because in return, you aren't going to try and kill her anymore. I mean, nobody wants to die, right, so who wouldn't give up a relic in exchange for their survival? And you don't need her magic once you've got the relic, so why would you come after her?"

"Why indeed?" Salem murmured. "But what makes you think that one of Ozpin's Maidens will so easily betray him?"

"This Ozpin guy didn't stop Cinder from messing her up, did he?" Sonata asked. "So, if it was me, I'd ask myself who could protect me better: the guy who didn't protect me the first time, or the one who could keep me safe just by not trying to kill me anymore? But that's just me; what do I know, right?"

"More than you let on, it seems," Salem replied. "And what of Cinder? She will not take this well."

"Nor is she likely to obey your commands, on past experience," Tempest replied. "It … seems to me, Mistress, that just as Amber has a choice between the man who failed to protect her and the one who can shield her through inaction, you have a choice between Amber, who has every reason to cooperate and none at all to betray you, and Cinder, whose incompetence and disobedience have made this task so much harder than it needed to be."

Salem was silent for a moment. She said, "I am a good mistress. I was old when this Remnant of a world was young, and I recall the great princes and warlords of the fallen past, the rings they gave and the tales that were told of them. I am a good mistress, and I reward my faithful servants. Carry out your plan, approach Amber, and tell her that if she delivers the Crown of Choice to me, then she will be safe from me and mine forevermore. No grimm will touch her, and no servant of mine will assail her, and anyone she chooses, anyone at all, even Ozpin himself, will likewise be safe from my malice, provided only that they do not attack my servants about their business or seek in any way to hinder my designs in any fashion. If this is done, if the Relic is mine, then you, Tempest, and you too, Lightning Dust, you shall have places of honour at my table, and when all is done and the world is made anew, you will be queens in the new world that I will fashion for your pleasure.

"And as for you, Sonata Dusk, you who have devised this plan and have done so much to carry our ambitions in Vale forward, to you, I will release your sisters and give you all the Kingdom of Vale to be your plaything."

Sonata's eyes widened. "A … a whole kingdom? For realsies?"

Salem smirked. "For a relic, I would give as much without hesitation. Tell Cinder nothing of this; the threat of her presence will be useful in stoking Amber's fear; when the Relic has been recovered, then will be the moment to dispose of her, but until then, tell her nothing of this. Keep it secret and go to Amber and see if her fear is stronger than her sense of duty.

"Bring me a Crown, and I swear to you that I will make all your dreams come true."