Yang
“These people are weak,” Vernal spat as the three representatives of the Branwen tribe stood in the midst of the palace courtyard and the party swirled around them.
“They’re rich, not weak,” Yang replied. She paused, looking around the room at all the gaudily dressed Mistralian nobles in their bejewelled finery. “I mean, they might be weak as well, but not necessarily.”
Vernal snorted. “If they weren’t weak, then what are we doing here?” A sneer of cold contempt settled upon her features.
Yang rolled her eyes. “You know exactly why we’re here; we’re here to-“
“To be offered a slice of Mistral’s territory because these people are too soft and powerless to defend it themselves,” Vernal informed her.
“That’s one interpretation.”
“What other interpretation is there?” Vernal demanded. “Why else would they be courting us like this?”
“Quiet,” Raven snapped. “You two mewl at one another like kittens; it’s giving me a headache.”
Vernal scowled. “Raven, what are we doing here?”
Raven glanced at Vernal over her shoulder. A smirk played across her pale features. “What are we doing here? Didn’t you just answer that question yourself, Vernal? We’re here to be given the keys to the kingdom. Part of it, at least.”
“But why?” Vernal asked. “Do you really believe that they would be making this offer to us if they had the strength to defend their own territory? Are you as much a fool as your daughter?”
Yang’s eyes flashed red as her hands clenched into fists. “Hey, if I’m such a fool, then-“ She fell silent as Raven raised one hand.
Raven turned around slowly, her expression cold as she glared down at Vernal. Her voice was pregnant with menace as she asked, “Did you just call me a fool, Vernal?”
Vernal held Raven’s gaze for but a moment. She bowed her head. “No, Raven, that was not my intent. Forgive me.”
“Of course,” Raven said, her tone softening immediately. “And your assumptions about their motives are correct: under ordinary circumstances, the pride of these Mistralians would never permit them to make such an approach to common outlaws like us, let alone to make us lords and governors of their realm. Yang understands that too, don’t you, Yang?”
Yang hesitated for a moment. She nodded. “I mean, it’s not like they offered anything like that to you before, right?” she asked, a little anxiously; she very much hoped that they hadn’t offered her mother anything like this before only for Raven to refuse them and continue on her path of pillage and destruction.
Raven smirked. “Indeed not. Previously, they would have sent huntsmen after us or else searched the skies for our tribe with Atlesian airships. The destruction of Beacon Tower, the Atlesian retreat… the world has changed a great deal lately.”
“The world is ours for the taking,” Vernal insisted. “We don’t need to take a pardon from those who cannot touch us! We don’t need to restrict ourselves to a little piece of land. We could roam the length and breadth of Anima as we please, taking what we want-”
“Killing who you want?” Yang demanded.
Vernal looked her in the eye. “Is that a problem for you?”
“You’re damn right, it’s a problem for me!” Yang snapped. “We have a chance to make good here, to make new lives where we don’t have to-”
“Don’t have to what?” Vernal spat. “Don’t have to follow our ways? Don’t have to live as our tribe always has?” She snorted. “You are as weak as any of these people, and you want to make us just the same.”
“'Our tribe'?” Yang replied. “'Us'? Weren’t you born here in Mistral? Isn’t the only reason you’re a part of the Branwen tribe because you got scared and ran away from home?”
“Enough!” Raven snarled. “I will not have these Mistralians thinking us disunited. The next one of you to speak out of turn will have their tongue cut out; do I make myself clear?”
Yang glanced down at her right hand. She knew better than to take Raven’s threats of bodily mutilation lightly by this point.
For that reason, she said nothing more.
Vernal, too, fell silent.
Raven glowered at the both of them for a moment before her expression softened a little. “Vernal, you may attribute this to Yang’s influence, but the truth is that it was always my father’s ambition to be legitimised by the authorities like this.”
Yang’s eyebrows rose, and she could see her own surprise mirrored on Vernal’s face. Is that true, or are you just saying that to get Vernal off my back?
“I – and my brother – were sent to Beacon to learn how to kill huntsmen,” Raven explained, “because huntsmen were the only ones who could threaten us. My father thought that, if the tribe became strong enough, then the authorities of the Kingdom might make a deal with him and grant him a little kingdom of his own. Of course, he didn’t reckon with the fact that, no matter how strong our tribe became, it would never be as strong as a kingdom, still less a kingdom allied with other kingdoms. But now, the old alliances are gone, and the kingdom is much weakened. Now is the time when my father’s dream can become a reality. As he explained to me, if you have a chicken, then you have two choices: either kill the bird and dine well on its meat for one night or else take care of it and enjoy eggs every morning. Eggs will not fill you up so well as a chicken dinner, but they will sustain you for much longer.”
Vernal glanced at her. “May I speak?” she asked.
Raven nodded. “You may.”
“Surely the best alternative is to keep finding new chickens?”
Raven chuckled, a smile creasing her features. “At some point, Vernal, this crisis will pass. Something close to normal will return, and when it does, we will be hunted once again… unless we are protected from those whom they would send to hunt us.”
“A piece of paper is protection?” Vernal asked.
“This is the world of civilised men, Vernal,” Raven replied. “In this world, pieces of paper are mightier than any weapon.” She paused. “We have witnessed a return in these past few months to the old days, when power flowed as blood from a sword rather than ink from a pen. But that return will be fleeting, I think. If we do not take our chance to get within the law now, then we will be locked outside it once again.”
“So?” Vernal asked, keeping her voice down so as to avoid raising Raven’s ire. “What have we to fear from such soft people as these? We should be taking all that they have, not begging for their table scraps.”
“Don’t be a fool,” Raven replied. “Do you think that it is with jewels and gowns and manners that Mistral is kept safe? The softness of these people is indulged by the strength of those they keep in their employ. It is that strength of which we should be wary. It is that strength that we protect ourselves from now.”
Plus, you know, we don’t have to murder and steal from people any more.
Baby steps. I’ll get her there someday.
“Pyrrha Nikos, allow me to present Raven Branwen, the first bandit chief to accept our terms.”
Yang felt her stomach turn to ice. Pyrrha? Pyrrha’s here?
Yep. There she was. It definitely wasn’t some other Pyrrha Nikos; that would have been too convenient. No, it was Ruby’s teammate standing there, staring at her like… well, like someone you’d thought was dead suddenly turning up at a party.
Right. Mistral. Big hero champion girl.
Probably should have seen this coming.
Dammit.
“Yang?”
Jaune let Camilla leave first, waiting on the balcony while she departed. Her footfalls were so soft that he could barely hear them over the sound of the party going on within, so he started counting to one hundred, as though he were playing hide and seek with Violet back home when they were kids.
And as he counted, he thought about what Camilla had said to him. Some of it, of course, he had known already: about Watts and Chrysalis and their arrival at the house of the Rutulians. Some of it was new to him, although a lot of that was concealed within the things that Camilla hadn’t said. She didn’t know about the Relic of Knowledge, only that there was something vague underneath Haven; Jaune himself didn’t have any details about the relic, but at least he knew that it was one, and he was pretty sure that Lionheart knew that too. The fact that Lionheart had kept that to himself showed that he - or Salem or someone - didn’t trust Juturna or her brother or any of their associates with that kind of information. The same went for the Spring Maiden, about whom Camilla only seemed to have the most cursory of knowledge, not even her name or title. Perhaps… perhaps that distrust could be leveraged somehow, to drive a wedge between the Rutulians and Salem’s more faithful servants. Perhaps. He wasn’t entirely sure how to accomplish that yet. He wasn’t even sure if it was possible.
Unfortunately, that sense of distrust also made some things more uncertain. Camilla had no idea who or where the Spring Maiden was, but that didn’t mean that Salem’s servants hadn’t found her and neglected to inform Juturna of it.
It might be better to have had Aska watch Haven, in case they move on it. Or that might be incredibly premature.
This is never easy, is it?
Compared with all of that, the fact that the man who wanted to marry Jaune’s fiancée had someone else who was in love with him in turn was refreshingly absurd. He wasn’t sure whether to wish Camilla luck or, on the basis of what kind of a man Turnus seemed to be, tell her that she could do better.
Jaune decided that he had waited long enough and turned around to head back into the party. Only to walk right into Turnus, blocking the way out of the balcony.
Jaune took a step back, closer to the edge of the balcony. He stared at Turnus in silence, waiting for the other man to speak.
Turnus stood with his arms folded, glowering at him, and said nothing.
Jaune smiled disingenuously. “Hi there,” he said.
Turnus snorted out of his nostrils. “What did Camilla want with you?”
Jaune swallowed. “Who?”
Turnus took a step forward, his arms falling down by his sides. “Don’t play games with me, you impertinent little upstart; what did you talk about?”
Jaune stood his ground. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”
“Because I’m asking you, boy,” Turnus growled.
“'Boy'?” Jaune repeated. “My name is Jaune! Not 'boy,' not 'upstart,' Jaune Arc. Soon to be Jaune Arc-Nikos, which is what’s really making you mad, isn’t it?”
Turnus let out a wordless growl, and as he took a step forward, he seemed to grow in size, his height increasing and his shoulders swelling, his whole body becoming more powerful without ever once seeming to alter in proportion. He became a giant looming over Jaune, glaring down at him with wrath in his eyes, larger than an ursa major. But although he felt his heart quail at the sight, Jaune stood his ground. He wasn’t some useless kid out of his depth any more, and he wasn’t going to be pushed around by a bully with a lot of ancestors.
“You may think that you’re a big guy around here,” Jaune said, “but I’ve seen bigger. I’ve fought bigger. And you don’t scare me, my lord.”
Turnus stared at him. “You are not worthy of such a prize as Pyrrha.”
“And you are?” Jaune replied. “You’re not even worthy of Camilla’s friendship.”
Turnus shrank down to the size that he had been before, his whole body diminishing until it was by no means small, but was at least within the range of human proportions. “What are you talking about?” he demanded.
“What do you think is going to happen between you and Pyrrha?” Jaune asked in return. “You could drop me to my death and say it was an accident, you could challenge me to a duel, you could scare me into asking for my ring back, but what then? Do you think that Pyrrha is just going to fall into your arms after that? She can barely stand you!”
Turnus looked as though he would very much like to throw Jaune to his death at this point, but he did not. Nor did he reply, and Jaune guessed that was because he could hardly dispute what Jaune was saying.
“Do you really think a man like you deserves her?” he grunted.
“I think that we don’t love who we deserve, only who we love,” Jaune said. Thanks for that, Sunset. “Tell me something, man to man.”
Turnus snorted. “Man to man?”
“Do you love her?” Jaune demanded. “Or do you only want to marry her because it’ll be easier for you to be king?”
Turnus froze. “Is that what Camilla told you?”
“Camilla thinks that you’d be a good ruler for this kingdom,” Jaune admitted.
“And I will,” Turnus declared. “The ruler that this kingdom needs.”
“The ruler it needs to turn this country into a little Atlas?” Jaune asked.
“Better to be a little Atlas than… this enormous mess,” Turnus said, waving one hand to encompass the city beneath them. “You are an outsider; surely, you can see how broken this kingdom is, just as I saw when I came home from Atlas?”
Jaune sidestepped away from him, turning a little so that he was facing Turnus still. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ve never been to Atlas. For all I know, it’s a hell of a lot worse than you’d think from taking Rainbow Dash or Twilight Sparkle as the average of what the kingdom turns out. I don’t know, and it’s not for me to say. Like you said, I’m an outsider. I’m only here for Pyrrha. But what do you really want? If you had to choose between the crown and your family, what would you choose?”
Turnus’ eyes narrowed. “Are you asking me if I would choose domestic happiness over my duty to Mistral or if I would sacrifice those dear to me for my ambitions?”
“You feel a sense of duty to Mistral?” Jaune asked, with undisguised incredulity in his voice.
Turnus glared at him. “Just because it does not manifest in venturing out to fight in little villages does not mean I do not understand my obligations as a Rutulus.”
“So… deliberately tying the Council up in obstruction… that was helping Mistral to you?”
“Things cannot go on as they are now,” Turnus replied. “Better that they should be broken quickly so that something new can take its place, no?”
“And what of the cost?” Jaune murmured, aghast.
Turnus walked to the edge of the balcony and leaned upon the stonework. “How many Mistralian and Atlesian lives did your last king end in the Great War, in order that he might remake the world as he wished?”
“Mistral and Mantle started the war. Vale only fought-”
“Vale fought for the same reason all wars are fought,” Turnus said, cutting him off. “Because some things are worth more than the lives that will be spent in fighting for them.”
“You don’t have the right to make that choice,” Jaune said.
“There is no path to Mistral’s salvation that does not run through a river of blood. I am saving lives in future for the loss of… not even that many lives, considering Pyrrha’s record of success.” Turnus paused. “Did Camilla tell you about Team HART?”
“Your Atlas team?”
Turnus nodded. “I really did want to graduate from Atlas,” he said, “but after what they had done to her… I couldn’t let it stand, and to hell with General Ironwood and his disapproval. There are times… there are times when I envy the Atlesians with their iron hearts, that they are not burdened by the weakness of love as we Mistralians are. But… does that answer your question?”
"Iron hearts"? Were you just not paying attention at all when you were in Atlas, or are the ones we met serious outliers? Jaune wondered. "Iron hearts" was not a term that sprang to mind when he thought of Rainbow or Twilight, or even Ciel. It didn’t even apply to Penny, and she was literally made of iron. But then… how many other Atlesians did he really know?
It didn’t really matter at the moment. Perhaps Turnus was right about the majority of Atlesians, but that made no difference to either of them in this moment.
“I guess,” Jaune said. “If it weren’t for the fact that you’re putting them in danger.”
Turnus looked at him. “Are you talking about my ambitions or about Salem now?”
“She can’t be trusted, and she can’t be controlled.”
“According to you, her enemy,” Turnus pointed out. “You have a vested interest in convincing me of this.”
“Of course,” Jaune said. “Sure I do. Just like I have a vested interest in telling you that you should stop chasing after the person who has made it clear that they don’t want anything to do with you, take a look around, and realise that someone who actually cares about you has been waiting for you this entire time. That is in my interest… but that doesn’t mean that I’m not telling the truth.” He hesitated, but felt that it was unlikely, after what he had just said, that Turnus would punish Camilla for what she had told him. “Camilla came to me because she’s worried about you. About all of you.”
Turnus stared at Jaune. Disbelief faded into acceptance in his eyes. “I see,” he muttered. “Camilla… leave me, Jaune Arc.”
“What are you-“
“I said leave me,” Turnus snapped. “The time of my thoughts is my own to spend.”
“For now,” Jaune replied. “Until Salem decides otherwise.”
Nevertheless, having hopefully given Turnus something to think about, he left him there on the balcony, brooding upon it all, while Jaune made his way back to the Fountain Courtyard.
“Yang?” Pyrrha asked, disbelieving.
Yang looked almost as shocked to see Pyrrha as Pyrrha felt to see Yang, if that was possible. Considering the situation, she felt that a little unfair. Then Yang’s expression changed. She laughed nervously as she scratched the back of her head with her left hand. “Pyrrha, hey!” she said. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“I live here,” Pyrrha said, in a rather flat tone.
“Yeah, but so do a lot of other people, and I haven’t met them yet,” Yang replied cheekily. She laughed again. “What a coincidence, huh?”
“'What a co-'?“ Pyrrha stopped, her eyes glancing from Yang to Raven Branwen and to the other girl with her head nearly completely shaved who stood beside her. She began to wish that she had brought her weapons, as impractical as that would have been. She forced her voice to remain – or to appear – calm. “Yang,” she said, “may we speak a little more privately?”
“Uh,” Yang hesitated, glancing towards… towards her mother.
Raven nodded. “Go on. Come back when you’re finished.”
Yang swallowed. “Sure thing,” she said quietly and stepped out from around her mother to approach Pyrrha.
Pyrrha turned to a slightly confused-looking Lady Ming. “My lady, I beg your pardon, but if you will excuse me? Yang is… an old friend of mine. I’m quite anxious to catch up with her.”
Lady Ming looked intrigued and horrified in equal measure. “You have old friends amongst bandits?”
“Apparently so,” Pyrrha replied. “That being the reason I am anxious to catch up.”
Lady Ming now looked amused, and there was a further hint of amusement in her voice as she said, “Be my guest, Lady Pyrrha.”
“Thank you, my lady; you are most kind,” Pyrrha said. “Yang, if you would like to follow me?”
Yang grinned. How could she grin at a time like this? “Sure thing, ‘Lady’ Pyrrha.”
It was all that Pyrrha could do not to roll her eyes, but in truth, as she led Yang away from her mother and other companion, she found that the exasperation she felt actually helped; it was a rock that she could cling to in the midst of the shock and horror that she felt roiling within her. Yang was alive. Yang was a bandit. Yang was alive?
How could she do that to Ruby?
Where did she go?
What’s going on?
She waited until they had both approached the fountain itself, where the dead and brackish water lay still and dirty, before Pyrrha rounded upon Yang.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
Yang raised her hands. “I’m sure that you have questions.”
“Of course I have questions,” Pyrrha cried. “You’re supposed to be dead, and…” she trailed off. There were two fingers missing from Yang’s right hand, the little and the ring finger, not even stumps where they should be. They had not been lost in an accident or bitten off by a beowulf, but cleanly severed, as by a blade. Pyrrha felt a chill run down her spine. “Yang,” she said, “what happened to your fingers?”
Yang winced. “Raven… cut them off, the first two times I tried to escape.”
Pyrrha’s eyes widened. “Your own mother-“
“My mother’s name is Summer Rose,” Yang broke in harshly. “Raven… has a claim on me, but she’s not my mother.”
“No,” Pyrrha murmured. “No, I don’t suppose she is. Yang. Gods, I…” She hadn’t known Yang very well, but she was Ruby’s sister. Ruby’s sister returned from death, and the thought of what she must have gone through, to have her fingers cut off by… that woman… Pyrrha reached out and pulled Yang into an embrace, her muscle-toned arms squeezing Yang tight as she pressed the other girl against her.
“It’s good to see you again,” she whispered. “I know that we weren’t exactly close, but-“
She stopped as she felt Yang’s arms close around her in turn. “I get it,” Yang said. “Trust me, I get it. It’s good to see you too, Pyrrha.”
“I’m not sure where Jaune is,” Pyrrha said, “but if you give me a moment, then I’ll have one of the servants ask my mother and Swift Foot to meet us at the door, and then hopefully, we can get away before they notice we’ve gone.”
“Before who notices we’ve gone?” Yang asked. “And gone where?”
Pyrrha released Yang from her embrace. “Why, before Raven and her companion notice you’ve gone, of course,” she said. “We’ll go back to my house.”
Yang’s eyes widened. “What, you’re going to hide me?”
“Hide you, shelter you, whatever you want to call it,” Pyrrha replied.
“No, Pyrrha, you can’t,” Yang began.
“Of course I can,” Pyrrha declared. “You’re Ruby’s sister, and although I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again, I couldn’t look her in the eye if I didn’t help you now.”
“No, Pyrrha, you don’t understand-“
“I understand if you’re worried, Yang, but I have thirty huntsmen in my hall; you’ll be perfectly safe there-”
“You’re not listening-”
“That is even if Raven decided that having you back was more important than the goodwill of Mistral that she would jeopardise by starting-”
“Pyrrha, I’m not hiding in your house!” Yang shouted, finally silencing Pyrrha and a few other people as well, who looked at them both curiously.
Pyrrha stared at her. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
Yang took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. “I’m going back to the Branwen tribe.”
Pyrrha blinked. “I beg your pardon? Yang, I could have sworn that you said-”
“Yes,” Yang said. “You did.”
“But… she cut off your fingers!”
“When I tried to run away,” Yang explained. “I don’t do that any more.”
“I told you, I can keep you safe.”
“It’s not about that.”
“Then what is it about?” Pyrrha demanded.
“Hey, Pyrrha,” Jaune said, as he approached. “There’s something that I have to- Yang?”
“Hey, Jaune,” Yang said, sounding a little dispirited as her head bowed. “So, you’re here too, huh?”
“I’m… here,” Jaune said as he stared at her. “And you’re… not a ghost?”
Yang sniggered. “No, Jaune, I’m not a ghost.”
“And you’re not dead.”
“Always super perceptive, weren’t you?”
“Sorry,” Jaune said. “I just… this is… how?”
Yang sighed. “Can I have a hug before we get to the explanations? I just had one from Pyrrha, but before that, it’s been a really long time.”
Jaune grinned. “Sure, you can; come here.” He closed the distance between them and allowed Yang to grab him in a bearhug, wincing a little as she lifted him up off the ground before setting him back down again.
They held each other for a minute or two, Yang pressing her head against his chest. “Pyrrha, is it okay if I stay like this with your boyfriend for a little bit? This feels really nice in a way that… not a lot of stuff has recently.”
“Of course,” Pyrrha replied. “Although… he’s actually my fiancé now.”
Yang opened one eye. “Really?” she said. “Congratulations, you guys!” She smiled, albeit a slightly sad smile. “I don’t suppose there’s any way that we could talk about you and your wedding plans instead of getting to all the questions about me, is there?”
“I’m afraid not,” Pyrrha said. “Although the former might be more enjoyable.”
“What’s going on, Yang?” Jaune demanded. “We all thought you were dead. Ruby thinks you're dead.”
Yang nodded sadly as she stepped away from Jaune. “I know,” she admitted.
“You know?” Pyrrha repeated. “Do you know how hard she took it?”
Once more, Yang nodded solemnly. “Raven… kept an eye on her for me, her and Dad.”
“So you did know,” Pyrrha said, and disapproval began to creep into her voice.
“Hey, don’t talk to me like that,” Yang said, and her own voice became a little sharp. “You guys left her too; don’t forget that. And you had a choice.”
Pyrrha recoiled as Yang’s words pricked at her conscience and stirred the guilt within her. “You’re right, of course,” she agreed. “We… I have no right to judge you. But I would still like to understand, if I may.”
“What happened?” Jaune asked. "At the battle?"
“Raven happened,” Yang replied. “She saved my life. I was surrounded by grimm, my aura broke… I would have died if it hadn’t been for her; there was no way that anyone could have gotten to me in time even if they’d known that I was in trouble.”
“I would thank her,” Pyrrha muttered, “except she didn’t just save your life, did she?”
“No,” Yang said. “She took me with her, back to her tribe. Her semblance… allows her to do that.” She looked at Pyrrha. “That’s the reason your house wouldn’t be safe from her; so long as I was there, Raven could just walk right into the middle of it.
“That’s why running away was a really bad idea,” she added. “No matter how well I planned it, she could always find me whenever she wanted to.”
“And she cut off your fingers,” Pyrrha said.
“She what?” Jaune cried. “Oh my God, Yang, you have to come with us-”
“Oh, not this again, no, Jaune,” Yang said. “I’m not going to hide out at your place.”
“Why not?”
“Because Raven needs me, and so does the Branwen tribe,” Yang replied. “You don’t understand what they’re like.”
“I think we have an idea,” Jaune said. “We’ve fought plenty of bandits these past few months.”
“Oh,” Yang grunted. “Then you’ll know that these aren’t good people-”
“They’re not the kind of people you should be around,” Jaune interrupted.
“But I’m making them better,” Yang insisted. “I’m making Raven better. This agreement… do you think everyone in the Branwen tribe wanted that? Vernal wants to carve a swathe of destruction right across Anima. But I pushed for Raven to take this deal, just like I pushed for her not to pillage and burn every village she could from Argus to Mistral. I’m helping her become a better person, and I’m helping the tribe too.”
“So you think it’s a good thing that bandits like the Branwen tribe should be just given control of whole areas of territory, put in charge of villages?” Jaune demanded.
“Why not? Isn’t that how families like Pyrrha’s got started?” Yang asked.
“Yes,” admitted Pyrrha. “You’re right, but… that was an awfully long time ago.”
“So?” Yang replied. “So long as we behave ourselves, so long as we protect these villages from the grimm, so long as we hold up our end of the agreement with Mistral, then what’s the issue?”
“Will they?” Pyrrha asked. “Hold up their end of the bargain? Protect their area from the grimm?”
“Yes.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I’ll make sure it happens!” Yang insisted. “Raven is starting to listen to me, and one day, I’ll be leader of the tribe, and I can make sure that they stay on the right path. Who knows, maybe before too long, they’ll even have forgotten they were bandits at all. But I have to stay, or I have to go back. If I don’t, then… then it will just be Vernal whispering in Raven’s ear. And I can’t let that happen.”
“So you’ll go back with the woman who mutilated you,” Pyrrha said, ever so softly. “You… I don’t know whether to commend your extraordinary courage or condemn your extraordinary foolishness.”
“I do,” Jaune said. “It’s the second one. Yang, you don’t owe these people anything, certainly not your life spent dedicated to trying to redeem or improve them.”
“It’s not about them,” Yang said. “Or at least it’s not just about them. It’s about all the people they’ll hurt if I leave and they go back to their old ways. I wanted to become a huntress because… okay, I wanted adventure and maybe to find my… Raven, but I also went to Beacon because I wanted to help keep people safe. And that’s what I’m doing. It may not look like it; I’m not standing between a village and the grimm… but I am standing between that village and the tribe, even if they don’t see me.”
“Yang,” Raven said, as she stalked towards them. Her companion – Vernal, presumably – was her silent shadow. “It’s time to go.”
Pyrrha took a step forward. “Forgive me, Chieftainess, I’m afraid that Yang can’t leave just yet.”
Raven’s eyebrows rose. “Really? And why not?”
“Because her uncle is a guest in my house, sunk in grief for her passing,” Pyrrha announced.
Yang gasped. “Uncle Qrow? He’s here?”
“He’s in a bad way,” Jaune elaborated.
“Ren and Nora are here too,” Pyrrha added. “They are doing much better, but they too deserve to know that you are alive, I think.”
Yang glanced down at the floor. “Uncle Qrow… how bad is he?”
“Bad,” Jaune said. “Very bad.”
Yang blinked, water filling her eyes. “Mom?”
“He is no longer one of us,” Vernal spat. “He betrayed the tribe; why should we care what state he’s in?”
“Mom!” Yang exclaimed.
Raven was silent for a moment, her expression inscrutable.
“Very well,” she agreed. “Let’s all go call on Uncle Qrow.”