//------------------------------//
// Two Lessons (New) 
// Story: SAPR 
// by Scipio Smith 
//------------------------------//


Two Lessons


The BLBL dorm room was silent. And not the pleasant, comfortable kind of silent either. No, that would have been too lucky for Bon Bon, formerly known as Sweetie Drops. No, this was the kind of silence that felt like, if it were to be shattered, the shards would cut someone. 
Bon Bon sat on her bed, resting her elbows on her knees, looking down at the plaid skirt of her Beacon uniform. She was very deliberately not looking at any of her teammates: not at Sky, not at Dove, and certainly not at Lyra. 
She didn’t need to look at Lyra to know the expression on her face. Sunset might have humiliated Lyra in front of the rest of the school, but Bon Bon knew her well enough to know that Bon Bon’s actions had hit her far harder. 
That was why she didn’t want to look; no, she couldn’t look.
And this is just a drop in the bucket; what’s she going to think when she finds out what I really am?
Maybe I can argue incompetence? I never succeeded at anything I tried, so it doesn’t matter?
…yeah, I’m not sure that’s going to cut it. 
Not to mention the fact that if I don’t start succeeding at something, I’m probably going to die.
That was another issue weighing on her mind. While Doctor Watts might be a forgiving sort – might be; he had seemed genial enough in her youth, but that was before she found out more about his true colours – her new boss did not give quite the same impression. Mind you, Bon Bon wouldn’t have expected her to give some of the orders that she’d issued to Bon Bon lately, so really, who was to say? Bon Bon’s initial read on her seemed to have missed a few things.
That still didn’t make her safe, though. So far, Bon Bon’s record in fulfilling her mission was… pretty abysmal. She’d failed abjectly to get close to Pyrrha Nikos, or anyone of any relevance whatsoever; she was the leader of what was emphatically the D-team, and the only reason she wasn’t beneath the notice of everyone was because of what she’d done to Blake. The only things that she’d managed to find out were common knowledge. It was… not a great track record; in fact, it was the kind of track record that could very easily end with someone finding her body in a ditch somewhere. 
And now she had this. This thing, this new revenge by Sunset Shimmer – Bon Bon had no doubt whatsoever that it was her; it was right up her tricksy alleyway – that had brought down new troubles upon her head. 
The dorm room had been her sanctuary. The team had been her sanctuary. No matter how hated she was by Blake’s friends, no matter how badly she was doing in her mission, no matter how badly she seemed to be doing in school, her team, her friends, would always be there for her: Lyra, who had been by her side since Canterlot; Sky, who was game for just about anything; Dove, who had seemed like a part of the team long before he actually joined it officially. 
They were her rock and her balm, and now both those things were under threat. 
How did I let it come to this?
She knew how: she had followed her instructions. But what instructions! What sense did they make? What was the point of it all? She wondered if the only point was to land her in this trouble, to take away the one thing that she could rely on, to punish her for her incompetence. 
If it was so, she felt appropriately chastised, and punished far more than she deserved.
Just because she had yet to notch up a notable success didn’t mean that she deserved to have the only good things in her life right now taken away, did it?
Bon Bon found that her breathing was growing heavier. She needed some way to explain this. She needed some way to make it seem okay. She needed some way to make herself not look like a monster.
She needed an excuse, since she couldn’t exactly deploy the truth as a defence. 
She needed someone to say something and give her some sign of where she stood with them all. 
Of course, she also feared what they might say because it would give her an indication of where she stood with them all. 
“So,” Sky said, breaking the silence, “are we just not going to talk about the fact that you’re a genocidal sociopath?”
“I’m not a sociopath,” Bon Bon moaned. “I’m not even genocidal. Wait, no, I didn’t mean to say it like that; I mean I’m not genocidal; I do not support genocide in any way, shape or form.” At least I hope I don’t.
“Then why did you say it?” Lyra demanded, her voice sharper than her sword seemed most of the time. 
Bon Bon ventured to look up at her. “I did this-”
“No!” Lyra snapped. “No, Bon Bon, you are not going to say that you did this for me. I never asked you to do this. I never asked for anything like this! I didn’t ask you to paint Team Sapphire’s door, and I certainly didn’t ask you to out yourself as a racist! Have you always felt that way? The entire time we went through Canterlot, were you hoping for Rainbow Dash to die? Or Ditzy? Were you just pretending to be cool with faunus all those years?”
“I am cool with faunus,” Bon Bon insisted. “And I never wanted Rainbow or Ditzy to die, or at least not just because they were faunus. I said those things to get a rise out of Blake!” She spread her arms out wide in exasperation. “I was acting! Why is that so hard for everyone to believe? Do you all really think that I… that I get off on the idea of mass murder or something? Just because of one thing that I said? Lyra, you’ve known me for years; do you really think that I could pretend to be someone else so seamlessly for all that time?”
Lyra frowned. “I… I don’t want to think that,” she said softly. “And… I guess you’ve never done anything racist before, at least not before the truth about Blake came out.”
“The thing with Blake has nothing to do with race,” Bon Bon vowed. 
“Then what does it have to do with?” Lyra demanded.
Envy. The truth of the matter was that Bon Bon really didn’t like Blake, and while she was acting on orders, the fact of the matter was that there were times when she came very close to hating the catgirl, just not because she was a catgirl. No,  Bon Bon hated Blake because of how infuriatingly lucky she was. Here was a terrorist, a former member of the White Fang, someone who had killed people, someone who had waged war against humanity, someone who had – until recently – been an enemy of mankind in every sense of the word. Someone who deserved to rot in jail for what she’d done. And yet, because she mouthed a few pieties about being sorry and regretting it and all that kind of stuff, people thronged about her, lined up to do her favours, showered her with love and praise. Rainbow Dash had used her precious influence with General Ironwood to extend the wing of Atlesian protection over her; Sunset Shimmer, the most self-centred person that Bon Bon had ever met, had put herself out to join with Rainbow in getting her out of prison and accepted back at Beacon; Team Sapphire had accommodated her in their room; Team Iron had accommodated her in their team; Dove, who was supposed to be Bon Bon and Lyra’s friend, had exchanged one of the best teams in the school for one of the worst in order to make room for Blake. Sunset had been willing to risk her reputation by resurrecting Anon-a-Miss to avenge a slight on Blake, of all people. Everyone loved Blake, everyone showered her with affection; the word was that she’d been offered the chance to transfer to Atlas at year’s end. Everything that she had done, every sin that she had committed, all forgotten. 
And for what? What did she have that made her so awesome? She’d been a rotten team leader, she’d never shown any sign of giving a damn about anybody but herself, she either said nothing or else stuck her foot in her mouth, she didn’t look before she leapt, so why were so many people – people who ought to have known better – so enamoured with her?
And what stuck in Bon Bon’s craw, what made her burn with envious rage at all the good things that had been bestowed on Blake, was the scratching sense in the back of her mind that if her own, comparatively minor, offences came to light, there would be no flood of people willing to forgive, coddle, and accommodate her for what she’d done – and she’d barely done anything!
Case in point: right now! Blake had committed murders! She had cut down men and women serving Atlas and the SDC and for these horrors, Atlas sought her services, but Bon Bon had said a few ill-judged words, and yet, she was the most monstrous creature to ever draw breath, a plague carrier who had to be shunned by all good and virtuous folk. So much for tolerance, indeed. 
“It has to do with the fact that she’s lucky,” Bon Bon declared. “It has to do with the fact that she has been handed everything, in spite of what she is – a terrorist – and everything she’s done. It has to do with the fact that I’m the bad guy for a few words when she is the reason why some poor kid doesn’t have a father any more. It has to do with -- you know what this has to do with? -- it has to do with the fact that she’s a bully. She’s a bully with a persecution complex, and I can’t stand it! Me and Cardin, were we bullying her? Two Atlesian students came to her aid and threatened to beat us up if we didn’t make ourselves scarce, in our own laundry room! She’s got General Ironwood and the Ace of Canterlot in her corner, and Sunset Shimmer lashing out on her behalf so that she doesn’t have to get her fair hands dirty. She plays the victim, acts like a few words are an assault on the sanctity of her person, and meanwhile, what do you think she did in the White Fang? She picked on people who were weaker than she was: shopkeepers, security guards, ordinary people just trying to get by. People who weren’t going to fight back against someone trained to huntress proficiency. Just people, like Granny Smith or the Cakes. She picked on them because they couldn’t stand up to her, because she could. But sure, she’s the victim in all of this, poor Blake. It makes me sick. I hate her – fine, I admit that – but I’m not a racist; I can get along with other faunus just fine. I only said the things I said because I knew it would push her buttons.”
“And you wanted to push her buttons because…?” Sky trailed off invitingly.
Bon Bon twisted her body around. “Isn’t it obvious?” she asked. “I wanted her to take a swing at me or Cardin so I could get her into trouble.
Sky was leaning against the wall of the dorm room. “Even though, with all the institutional support you’ve just described, didn’t it occur to you that something like that would slide off her like water? I mean, do you think anyone would care if she punched you after you insulted her like that?”
“Rainbow Dash wouldn’t care,” Lyra murmured. “After you said that, she’d probably cheer Blake on.”
“She would have cheered Blake on before I said that, because it’s Blake,” Bon Bon muttered.
“You’re overreacting to this,” Lyra insisted.
“She’s become Blake’s acolyte, and in the meantime, she acts like she doesn’t know us at all,” Bon-Bon protested.
“She’d probably rather that she didn’t know you after what you said in the laundry room,” Lyra declared.
“That still doesn’t answer my question,” Sky reminded them. “Why did you think you could get rid of someone who, and I want to point out again that you just proved you know damn well how many friends she has, is at the centre of such a wide and formidable network? Did you really think that a few petty incidents of harassment were going to make Beacon too hot for her?”
Bon Bon wouldn’t claim to know what was going on inside the mind of her dear leader, but she was starting to think that it wasn’t really about Blake at all anymore. It had started out as being about Blake, Bon Bon had been ordered to pass on the footage to the VPD in order to get Blake arrested so that she’d stop interfering in the operations of the White Fang, but now? Now, Bon Bon had begun to think that all of this wasn’t about Blake so much as it was about making Sunset Shimmer mad. Of course, Bon Bon wasn’t sure why Sunset needed to be enraged – still less enraged at Bon Bon – but it was about the only thing that made sense at this point. 
For a given value of sense, anyway. 
She sighed, and she didn’t even have to fake it; she genuinely felt exhausted by all of this. “Someone had to do something,” she said feebly. 
“You did something, alright,” Sky muttered. “You ruined your own life. And ours, for that matter.”
“Sky, that’s enough,” Lyra whispered.
“You do realise that we’re all tarred by association at this point?” Sky asked her. “Our lives aren’t going to be worth living in this school. It doesn’t help that your defence is, like, the worst defence in the history of defences.”
“That’s enough,” Lyra said, more in weariness than in annoyances. “It’ll be rough for a while, but it’ll blow over. These things always do. Remember Anon-a-Miss? After a while, it just became something that had happened.”
Bon Bon hesitated. “So… we’re good?”
“Well, I think you’re an idiot,” Lyra said. “Which is a new thing for me, feeling like the smart one.” She grinned. “Seriously, you shouldn’t have done any of this stuff. I’m just glad you didn’t do it to try and avenge me or something, because then, I would have felt guilty.”
Bon Bon rolled her eyes. “I’m glad I could help.”
“I think it’s a little disturbing how vindictive you’ve been,” Sky admitted. “But I’m glad that you’re not… what you sounded like.”
“Then you believe me?” asked Bon-Bon pleadingly.
“Don’t sound so happy about it,” Sky told her. “But, yes, I believe you. You’re our team leader, and I’m not going to turn on you just because you made a mistake.”
Bon Bon started to smile, but the smile faded as she remembered that she hadn’t shown Blake the same loyalty; she wondered if Sky was commenting on that, but didn’t quite have the heart to ask. He might think that she was a hypocrite, but at least he had her back still; that was the main thing. She looked at Dove, who had remained silent throughout, not a word passing his lips. 
“You’ve been very quiet,” she said. “What do you think about all this?”
“I’m new here,” Dove said. “It doesn’t matter what I think.”
“That’s not true,” Bon Bon said firmly. “You’re our friend, you’ve been our friend since the year began, and what you have to say matters to us. It matters to me.”
Nevertheless, Dove held his piece. “I… I could believe that you meant those things you said.”
Bon Bon’s eyebrows rose. Maybe I should have known better than to ask. “Right… thanks,” she muttered dryly.
“Do you two remember what a hayseed I was when I first got here?” Dove demanded, gesturing to both Bon Bon and Lyra from where he sat on his bed. “I’d never seen a faunus before I came to Beacon. I thought they were… I thought they were the strangest things I’d ever seen. Sunset really tore into me when she caught me staring at her pony ears at lunch on the first day of class. No faunus ever came to our village, which meant that the White Fang never came there either. I’d never even heard of the White Fang, and when I did… it’s horrible, and it’s the sort of thing that huntsmen should be fighting against, but at the same time… it wasn’t something that I’d had to endure. Not like you two, in Atlas, or even Sky. I know that prejudice is wrong, and I know that as huntsmen and huntresses, we probably have a duty to stand against hatred and ignorance, but at the same time… if I’d had to live under the shadow of the White Fang, I don’t think I can say that I wouldn’t have started to feel… you know. And, thinking about what you said… I see where you’re coming from. A huntsman of Beacon swears that his might will uphold the weak, but so many of our fellow students seem ranged around the strong.”
“Did you miss the part where Bon Bon said she wasn’t really a racist?” Sky asked.
“I heard,” Dove said quietly. “And I’m glad that you don’t want to kill everyone just because of how they’re born. But I understand a little better now why you don’t like Blake. Thank you, for sharing that with us, for trusting us with it.”
“You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?” Bon Bon asked.
“You’re asking that?” Sky demanded. “You, of all people?”
“I’m allowed to not want Dove to follow in my footsteps,” Bon Bon replied. “Seriously, don’t do anything about Blake; you’ll regret it.”
“I won’t,” Dove assured her. “I can see why you feel the way you do, but at the same time, I also trust… not Professor Ozpin, maybe, but I do trust our teachers. We’ve been put under our care because they’ve proven themselves worthy of that charge, and we have to respect that. If they think Blake deserves a place here, then I’m not going to disagree with them.”
“Why don’t you trust Professor Ozpin?” Sky asked.
Dove shook his head. “It’s too long a story, and I’m not going to tell it now. The point is, you don’t have to worry, I might see your point about Blake, but I’m not going to act on it. And I’m not going to turn away from you because of some words said in anger. I’m a member of Team Bluebell, your teammate, and your friend.” He smiled. “You could say and do much worse, and you wouldn’t be rid of me. I… I am at your service, in war and peace.”
Bon Bon felt a little sickly to hear him say that; he had no idea what he was saying, what he might be getting himself into… and yet, there was a part of her which thought that he would say the same thing even if he did know, because that was the kind of person he was. She forced a smile onto her face. “You’ve got to start talking less like the girl from that book you gave to Ruby.”
“Olivia? I wasn’t talking like Olivia,” Dove protested. “If I was talking like Olivia, I would say this.” He rose to his feet, only to drop to one knee in front of her. “I know not the events that lie ahead, only a general foreboding of many storms of war to break upon our heads, yet not from fear of any thunderous clamour shall I break with thee. Verily, I say that not for honour nor renown would I be parted from you, because I-”
“Oh, stop it!” Bon Bon said, hitting him with a pillow snatched from atop her bed. “I get the point,” she added as Sky sniggered.
Dove bowed to her as he rose to his feet. “There is something that we need to discuss,” he said. “If you’re sure that Sunset did this-”
“I’m sure,” Bon Bon declared.
“Then shall I tell Pyrrha that our agreement is void?” Dove asked, glancing from Bon Bon to Lyra. “It… there is a part of me that thinks it doesn’t seem right to associate with them after what their leader has done to you.”
Lyra frowned. “That’s just guilt by association, isn’t it? As bad as… well, it isn’t right.”
“Or do you just want to learn from Pyrrha Nikos?” Bon Bon asked.
“Do you want me not to?” Lyra asked. “If you don’t want me to, then-“
“No,” Bon Bon said. “It’s fine. Like you said, it isn’t Pyrrha’s fault or Jaune’s. Go, both of you. Have fun. Or learn lots, or whatever. Don’t worry about me.”
Let me worry about me. 
And whatever I’ll be asked to do next. 



The sword flew out of Lyra's hand and hit the stony ground with a metallic clang.
Lyra sighed dispiritedly. "Great," she murmured. "Perfect."
"I'm sorry," Pyrrha apologized. "I should have-"
"Held back even more?" Lyra asked. "Don't pretend that you weren't holding back."
"Of course I was," Pyrrha replied mildly. "Do you think that I don't hold back when I'm with Jaune? Exerting all my strength against you might inflate my ego, but it will not help either of you to learn; it wasn't my intention to discourage you."
Lyra exhaled through her nostrils. "Maybe it wasn't," she said, leaving it unspoken but implicit that Pyrrha had managed to do exactly that regardless.
Pyrrha's arms fell, letting Miló and Akoúo̱ fall to her sides. They stood before the garages, bathed in moonlight, alone and unobserved; no one was taking their vehicles out for a spin on a school night. "Do you want to be a huntress?"
"Yes," Lyra replied immediately. "I'd like to be a great huntress."
"If that is so, then you shouldn't give up so easily."
Lyra bent down to recover her sword. "Why not?"
"Because if you do, then you will never become a great huntress," Pyrrha told her. "Or even a good one."
Lyra scowled. "What if I can't? What if Professor Goodwitch was just full of it when she said that those at the bottom could climb up and those at the top could fall? I've not seen much sign of it."
"Then you haven't been paying enough attention," Pyrrha said softly.
Lyra was silent for a moment. "I guess Jaune has been getting better," she conceded. "What's his secret?"
"He works hard," Pyrrha summarized.
Lyra winced. "Point taken," she said, twirling her sword experimentally in her hands. "All the same, he's not improving that much; does he ever wonder what the point is?"
"Sometimes," Pyrrha admitted. "That's why I asked Dove to help him tonight, so that he can see how much progress he's making against someone closer to his own level."
"While still being above it," Lyra declared. "You might disagree, but I don't think that he'll catch up to Dove, even if Dove is closer to him in skill than either of them are to you. Dove works hard himself, and he's stronger than he looks."
"So is Jaune," Pyrrha said.
Lyra smiled. "I don't suppose you'd like to bet on it."
"No, I'm afraid I wouldn't," Pyrrha said. "Jaune… might not appreciate it if he found out."
"Suit yourself," Lyra replied. "Dove might not like it either; I don't think he'd approve of gambling, so I probably shouldn't." She hesitated. "But all the same, I hope that Jaune doesn't surpass him."
"For the pride of Team Bluebell?" Pyrrha guessed.
"I suppose so," Lyra acknowledged. "But not just in the bragging rights sense. But there's a line between the chosen and the rest, and I think that I'd like to know that at least one member of our team was on the chosen side of the line."
Pyrrha's brow furrowed. "Do you really believe that?"
"Don't you?" asked Lyra in disbelief.
"You say that like I should."
"Because you ought to," Lyra said. "You're the princess of Mistral-"
"No, I'm not," Pyrrha told her. "Even my epithet remembers that I have no crown, and it's not a name that I'm particularly fond of in any case." If she had to be called something other than Pyrrha Nikos, then she would rather be the Invincible Girl than the Princess Without a Crown; the former name, at least, she had earned by her own skill in the arena; the latter was the result of nothing more than birth.
"You're the heir to the throne-"
"The throne is empty; Mistral has no Emperor now."
"You are living proof that some people are just born better than others," Lyra continued, unabated. "What are the odds that the last scion of the royal line would also become the Champion of Mistral? Not only the rightful inheritor of the kingdom, but also its greatest warrior too."
"That is just a title, not a truth," Pyrrha informed her. "And a title, what is more, for which I worked very hard to overcome some very challenging adversaries. I wasn't handed those trophies because of who I was."
"Don't Mistralians believe that those of high blood, with a family history of great and noble deeds, inherit the virtue of their ancestors?" Lyra asked. "The history and honour of the city passed down through generations?"
"That… is an old-fashioned belief," Pyrrha said. "But I suppose… I cannot deny that I feel something like it. For me, though, it is less of an entitlement than an obligation, to honour the line of my ancestors by doing as they did, taking up arms in a noble cause, fighting valiantly, defending those who shelter beneath my sword as a shepherd defends their flock. But it is still my choice. My… inherited virtue, if you wish; it inspires me, but it does not command me. And I do not believe that it makes me… it does not make me skilled."
"No?"
"No," Pyrrha repeated firmly. "Or else why is my closest rival in the arena a girl of no family, born in poverty, on the lower slopes of the mountain, who nevertheless has attained fame and glory and enviable prowess all through nothing but toil and sweat? Arslan is… far more admirable than I am, a better role model, an example to follow. If I discourage you by my mere existence, then look to her to be encouraged once again." She paused. "It is unusual to hear an Atlesian talk of inherited virtue in that way."
The corner of Lyra's lip twitched upwards. "I sometimes wish that I'd been born a Mistralian instead of an Atlesian," she confessed. "Heresy, I know; Rainbow Dash would freak out if she heard me say it."
Pyrrha smiled momentarily. "She loves her country very much."
"A little too much, don't you think?" Lyra asked.
"I… I'm not sure that it's possible to love too much," Pyrrha replied. "Whether we talk of love of country or of people. Love is such a gift, with the power to change, if not the world, then how the world appears to us. Is it ever possible to have too much of it?"
"I think it depends on how that love is returned," Lyra said. "If Jaune didn't give a damn about you, then yes, you could love him too much, and easily."
"You think that Atlas… doesn't love Rainbow back?"
"I'm not sure that our kingdom knows how to love."
"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean," Pyrrha admitted. "General Ironwood esteems her highly and rewards her loyalty with honour-"
"General Ironwood isn't Atlas, no matter what Rainbow or Twilight think," Lyra said. "General Ironwood is just one man. Those who call Rainbow Dash the Ace of Canterlot are just a handful of students who clustered around her and her friends. In Mistral, the deeds of the heroes of a thousand years ago or more will be remembered as long as the tales are told of their deeds to inspire future generations, but in Atlas, we don't even remember who led the armies of Mantle in the Great War. Our monuments are not to those who gave their lives but to the idea of them, the sons of the north who did their duty. Atlas doesn't know how to love because it expects devotion as its due; Atlas doesn't remember its dead because it expects its children to die for it. Rainbow can fight for Atlas until her body gives out, but Atlas will not remember her when she's gone."
Pyrrha was silent for a moment. "I must confess… as much as I think that my Atlesian friends would take issue with some or all of that, you make it sound… rather grim. I think that if Ruby were here, she would say the question of memory is irrelevant so long as we get the job done, but… I suppose I am sufficiently Mistralian that I'm not sure I could be satisfied with that. Is that why you chose Beacon instead of Atlas?"
Lyra nodded. "Atlas is… not for me. I don't think I'll ever go back. I may not have the skill to be celebrated in song, but I can at least write Dove's song, or Bon Bon's. In Atlas, we don't even do that."
"I'm a little surprised you didn't go to Haven," Pyrrha murmured.
"Maybe in another life," Lyra replied. "But Haven… it's just not that good, is it? I guess that's why you're here at Beacon, too."
"Beacon's pre-eminence is one of the reasons." Pyrrha admitted. She hesitated for a moment. "Thank you, Lyra."
"For what?" Lyra asked curiously.
"For not mentioning Sunset, or trying to turn me against her."
Lyra waved one dismissive hand. "I wouldn't do that. I don't like her, but you do, and if you've chosen her as a friend, then I'm not going to try and get in the way of that. We need our friends to get by in this world; taking them away from others is… it's just a dick move, isn't it?" She grinned. "Thank you for not mentioning any of the weird things that I believe in."
"It's not my place to comment," Pyrrha murmured.
"I suppose," Lyra said, "that I just want the world to be a little more… idiosyncratic, you know? That's another reason why I'd never go to Atlas; it feels like we're trying to make the whole world samey, you know? Identical airships, identical ranks of soldiers; instead of huntsmen and huntresses in cool outfits that speak to their souls, we get specialists in uniforms. It's all so… drab and boring. I'd like for something to shake it up a little, you know? Even if it is something bizarre like a magical talking horse coming to our world to save us all."
"I… think I understand, even if I do not share your wish," Pyrrha said gently. "And now, I think that we'd better try again, don't you?"
"I guess," Lyra replied. "I've probably stalled for long enough."
"You were stalling?"
Lyra looked abashed for a moment. "Yes," she said. "And you're about to see exactly why."




Dove had his free hand tucked behind his back as he slashed downwards with his sword. 
Jaune took the blow upon his shield, turning it aside and leaving Dove’s guard wide open for his counterstroke, a diagonal cut of his own across his temporary sparring partner’s chest.
Dove retreated in the face of the blow, scuttling backwards as Crocea Mors cut the empty air before him. Jaune followed up, his shield held before him, using it as a weapon, the way that Pyrrha had taught him, to lash out at Dove’s face, forcing him backwards. 
Dove fell back. If this had been Pyrrha, then she would have tried to manoeuvre around his shield and flank him, but Dove simply fell back in a straight line, allowing Jaune to pursue. 
They sparred around the farm, swords ringing to disturb the chickens trying to sleep not far away; their excited clucking formed a backdrop to the struggle as though they were invested in it. In reality, they probably just wanted the two boys to shut up. It seemed that they would never get used to it, no matter how much time Pyrrha and Jaune spent there. 
Jaune led with his shield again, thrusting it out, jabbing with his sword from over the top of his shield. Dove fell back, maintaining the curiously old-fashioned posture, one hand clasped him as though he were about to bow. 
Jaune and Dove stared at one another, two pairs of blue eyes locked together. 
Jaune lunged forward, teeth gritted, lashing out with his shield-
Dove brought his free hand and grabbed the lip of Jaune’s shield, pulling it downwards and towards him. Jaune slashed at Dove’s fingers with Crocea Mors, but though Dove grimaced, he endured the pain, pulling Jaune’s shield and Jaune with it, pulling him forwards irresistibly – Dove was pretty strong for his size, almost as strong as Cardin – even as Dove sidestepped, tossing Jaune aside with such force that he was flung to the ground, rolling onto his side.
He had to get up quick; he had to be ready to-
Dove kicked him in the face as Jaune rose into a crouch, punting him flat onto his back as Crocea Mors slipped from his hand. 
Dove stood over him. His expression was even for a moment before he held out one hand to Jaune. “Pyrrha never fights dirty when she’s teaching you, does she?”
Jaune accepted his hand and allowed the stronger boy to help him to his feet. “No,” he admitted. “I’m not sure if Pyrrha even knows how to fight dirty.”
“Oh, I’ll bet she knows, someone with her experience,” Dove replied. “From what I have seen since coming here, there is little honour to be found in battle.”
Jaune recovered his sword. “It depends, don’t you think?”
Dove blinked. “How do you mean?”
“I mean that the cause is honourable, even if our methods aren’t,” Jaune said. “If we save lives, I’m not sure that it matters how we did it.”
Dove nodded. “I agree,” he said. “We should always strive to do the right thing, but the right thing should be defined by ends, not means. We do right by those we care for, by those we have sworn to protect… by whatever means.” He hesitated for a moment and cracked a wry smile. “I’m not sure that Lyra would agree with me.”
Jaune snorted. “I’m not sure that Pyrrha would agree either,” he replied. “Mind you, I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to her about it. Maybe you’re right, maybe she does have an arsenal of dirty tricks I haven’t seen yet.”
“Or maybe she is simply so skilled that she has no need of such,” Dove said. “Unlike mere unskilled mortals like us.”
“You’re pretty good yourself,” Jaune told him.
“So are you,” Dove said.
Jaune shrugged. “If you say so. If that’s true, it’s because I’ve had a great teacher.”
Dove chuckled. “Pyrrha said that you lacked confidence; that’s why I’m here. To show you that you are making progress. How am I doing so far?”
“Not that great,” Jaune admitted.
“Would you like to go again?” Dove asked.
“Sure,” Jaune agreed, walking a few feet away from Dove before turning to face him again. Dove stood as he had before, his short sword held before him and his free hand clasped behind his back. 
I won’t make that mistake again.
The moonlight shone down upon them both. Jaune stared into Dove’s eyes, trying to divine what he might do. 
There was no one there to announce the beginning of their second bout; rather, they arrived at an unspoken mutual consent: they were both ready, armed and well prepared, and so they could and would begin. 
Dirty tricks, huh?
Jaune charged with a great shout, throwing out his shield to his side, leaving himself wide open as he rushed forward, Crocea Mors raised overhead. Dove stepped eagerly into the opening, thrusting with the point. Jaune arrested his progress, or tried to at least, and brought his shield back to strike Dove on the exposed arm hard enough to knock him off balance. Dove stumbled, turning to present his side to Jaune, and Jaune brought Crocea Mors down in a slashing stroke that raked Dove down the flank. 
He stepped back, bringing his blade up for another stroke. 
Dove lunged at him, not with the sword but with his whole body, bulling into Jaune shoulder-first. Jaune would have looked to sidestep it, ideally, to flow around Dove like water, but he was too close and too fast for Jaune to get out of the way in time, and the best he could manage to do was check the attack with his shield rather than his body. Nevertheless, Dove pushed him backwards, Jaune’s trainers making trails in the earth before him. Dove was bent down, almost bent double, jabbing at Jaune with his sword even as Jaune whacked him with his own blade. 
Jaune quickened the pace of his retreat, hoping to use Dove’s momentum against him the way that Dove had done to him, but Dove simply let go of Jaune’s shield and allowed Jaune to retreat while he stood still. 
Dove lowered his sword a little. “You learn quickly,” he said.
“Thanks.”
“No, I mean it,” Dove insisted. “Lyra…” He trailed off.
“Like I said, I’ve had a good teacher,” Jaune said. His eyes widened a little as he realised how that might sound. “I mean, not that I’m not sure you’re a good teacher yourself, it’s just-”
“It’s fine,” Dove assured him, raising his free hand. “I don’t expect to be put on the same level as Pyrrha Nikos. That’s the main reason I agreed to this: Lyra’s going to get a better class of instruction for one night.”
“Pyrrha knows what she’s talking about,” Jaune agreed. “She really knows… but I know from experience that there’s nothing quite like being taught by a friend. Knowing that they’re on your side… it’s a big help.”
“'Friend'?”
“We didn’t start off dating,” Jaune pointed out.
“True,” Dove murmured. “Still, just because Lyra and Pyrrha aren’t close, I hope that she gets something out of this. She… needs more than I can give her.”
Jaune was silent for a moment. He wasn’t sure what to say, what would be permissible for him to say, what Dove would take offence at. And besides, he really wasn’t sure that he had the right to judge anyone else considering what a state he’d been in when he arrived at Beacon. “Are you worried about her?”
Dove huffed, turning away from Jaune, presenting his profile. “She’s my friend; I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t worry,” he declared. “I joined their team because I didn’t want to see another friend disappear, to be left to wonder what had happened to them… without me. But I’m not Yang; I can’t protect a whole team by myself.”
“Lyra graduated from a combat school, right?”
“Yes, but…” Dove trailed off. “I worry anyway.” He glanced at Jaune. “What’s it like?”
“What’s what like?”
“Not needing to worry about your teammates because they’re all so much stronger than you?”
“You think that I don’t worry about Pyrrha?” Jaune asked, an incredulous note entering his voice. “You think that I don’t worry about all of them? Sure, they’re all stronger than I am, but that doesn’t make them invincible, and I know that. Ruby almost died last semester, and then… you’ve been to Benni Havens’ right?”
Dove nodded. “Sure I have; we all like it there.”
“I’m afraid that we’ll end up like so many of those pictures on the wall,” Jaune murmured. “With our smiles gone and empty spaces. That’s why I train every night, so that I can pull my weight alongside the people who mean so much to me.”
Once more, Dove nodded, but more slowly now, as if he was considering what Jaune had said. “You know what?” Dove said. “I think that’s the best reason to be here, so help me. Maybe that makes me a poor fit to be a huntsman, maybe it makes us both a poor fit and we should be chastised for not living up to the ideals of the school and we should be eager to fight for all mankind. But I don’t know all mankind, I can’t imagine all mankind, I can’t… I can’t get my arms around it. So I’ll fight for the people I know and care about, and good for you for doing the same.”
“Uh, thanks,” Jaune murmured. “I hadn’t quite thought of it like that before, but… yeah, I guess that is why I’m here now.” His childish dreams of comic-book heroism were gone now; he no longer thought that he could or would save the day simply by striding out onto the field. He was here for them, for Team Sapphire, for three great girls whom he was privileged to stand beside. 
Maybe that wasn’t the right thing, but it felt good enough for him. 
Dove sheathed his sword upon his hip. “I don’t know if you want to go again,” he said. “If you do, that’s fine, but before we do, can I… put a dampener on the mood for a second? You know that your team leader is Anon-a-Miss, right?”
“I know that’s what Bon Bon said,” Jaune replied, his voice chilling a little. “I don’t think that she has any proof.”
“Bon Bon isn’t the type to make wild accusations with no basis,” Dove replied.
“Apparently, she’s the kind of person who wants to kill all the faunus,” Jaune pointed out.
Dove cringed. “And you know that Sunset leaked that audio as well.”
“Even if that were true, it still wouldn’t be as bad as Bon Bon wanting to kill all the faunus, I mean… come on!” Jaune cried.
“I’m not defending what Bon Bon said; it was stupid and wrong, and if I was a faunus-”
“You don’t have to be a faunus; you just have to know a faunus,” Jaune replied hotly. “I didn’t think you had anything against Blake.”
“I don’t,” Dove insisted. “But Bon Bon… was an idiot, but she’s my idiot, my friend, and so I won’t turn against her or abandon her or… or judge her too harshly, even if others do. Even if she deserves it. Just like how you don’t want to believe that Sunset is the one behind these leaks because she’s your friend, and you don’t want to judge her.”
Jaune frowned. “What’s your point? That what Bon Bon did is okay because-”
“No,” Dove said firmly. “No, I’m not saying that. You won’t hear me say that. But… I would like for this to be the end of it. I promise that I’ll do everything I can to stop Bon Bon taking any more asinine actions against Blake, and I would like to know that Sunset is going to leave well enough alone for now. Standing up for her friend I can understand; tit for tat, I can understand; but it’s done now. She’s won. She’s destroyed Bon Bon’s reputation and made Lyra a laughing stock, which she didn’t deserve, no matter what Bon Bon did. I… don’t want to see that continue. I won’t let it continue.”
“You don’t know that Sunset did this,” Jaune insisted. “You don’t know that Sunset did anything.”
“Who else would have done it?”
“I don’t know, that doesn’t prove anything!”
“Can you look me in the eye,” Dove said, “and tell me that you’re certain that she couldn’t have done this? That she wouldn’t?”
Jaune said nothing. It was a harder question to answer than he would have liked it to be. He remembered how Sunset had reacted when Cardin had tried to blackmail him; sure, she’d helped him out of that particular spot, but she’d gotten very… very territorial about it. 
“Cardin Winchester isn’t going to get what’s coming to him.” That’s what she said.
Well, that certainly came true in a big way, didn’t it?
Dove gave a knowing nod in response to Jaune’s silence. “That’s about what I thought,” he said.