//------------------------------//
// Do You Regret (New) 
// Story: SAPR 
// by Scipio Smith 
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Do You Regret?


Pyrrha was sleeping under the tree. 
It was pretty cute, actually. 
A part of Jaune felt like a bit of a voyeur, sitting next to her, watching Pyrrha doze under the dappled shadows of the tree, but another part of him told himself that they were going out, and it wasn’t like he was some random creeper who had stumbled across her. 
And it wasn’t as though she hadn’t known that he was there before she dozed off. 
Besides, to be honest, as cute as she looked while she was sleeping – she was still Pyrrha, after all – it was nothing compared to the way she looked when he could see her eyes and when those eyes lit up her whole face, nothing compared to the way that she moved, so calm and graceful one moment, so fluid and ferocious the next. 
But she was clearly tired, and so, Jaune let her sleep. 
He had things to think about anyway, even if he was occasionally distracted by glancing towards his slumbering girlfriend.
Pyrrha stirred, and for a moment, Jaune thought that she was about to wake up, but the indistinct murmurings that passed her lips heralded nothing more than that… and then her whole body lolled sideways, so that she was resting upon Jaune’s shoulder. 
Jaune froze. He didn’t dare to move, afraid that if he did, then Pyrrha would be disturbed, and he didn’t want that, not when she was tired.
It was a little unfortunate, considering that he was not in the most comfortable position right now, but his armour meant that he couldn’t feel anything really sticking into his back, and it wasn’t like he was uncomfortable.
And it felt pretty good, the feel of her resting against him. If she didn’t mind his shoulder pauldron digging into her arm, then who was he to complain?
One of her teal drops, dangling from her circlet by its chain, fell across her face and nearly touched her delicate nose. 
Jaune wondered if he ought to brush it away, but then worried that that would look a bit weird if anyone saw, or if Pyrrha woke up to him poking her face while she slept. 
Again, if she could sleep through it, then he wasn’t going to object. 
He smiled at her, her chest rising and falling gently as she slumbered, the patches of light falling through the leaves glinting off her gilded bracer and greaves. One gloved hand gripped her red sash tightly, although Jaune wasn’t sure if she had fallen asleep that way or had moved to grab it while she slept. 
“Sweet dreams,” he whispered before he looked away. 
The light was falling upon him too, descending down through the gaps in the cover that the tree afforded, but Jaune found it easier when he looked at himself to focus on the shadow rather than the light, at all the darkness that surrounded the sunlit areas and lent a mottled effect to him. 
It was unfortunate that the light itself seemed to be principally falling upon the frayed patches of his jeans from where he was wearing them out. 
He should possibly – probably – buy some new clothes. 
But right now, the fact that at least some of his current clothes were showing their wear and tear was a reminder to him that he and Pyrrha were not of the same class. 
And it seemed like, no matter what reasons Lady Nikos might have had at first for disliking him, that difference was the main stumbling block now to her accepting their relationship. 
He could say that it was unfair, he could say that it was backward and primitive, he could say that he deserved to be judged for who he was, not who his family was – and Pyrrha had said all of that, in about as many words, at the spa yesterday – but the truth was that Vale wasn’t so different; it wasn’t so overt about it, but wealthy old families like Cardin's still flocked together – Cardin’s grandfather served on the Council alongside the mother of Cardin’s ex-girlfriend, until she found out what a huge racist he was. Perhaps, in Vale, the fact that the Winchesters were old money counted for as much as the fact that they were what Sunset had called old blood, but… well, Jaune felt that the fact that the Nikos’ family were pretty loaded had something to do with Lady Nikos’ pride, alongside all the ancestors that she could point to. 
The point was that, although Vale might be less in your face about it, there were probably those in this kingdom who would react the way that Lady Nikos had to someone like Jaune dating their daughter. It was the way that the world was, and complaining about it wasn’t going to help.
And he did want to help. He meant what he had said to Pyrrha: he didn’t want to be the reason why she spent years, her whole life, estranged from her mother. He knew – he had an idea, at least – of what Pyrrha’s heritage, her family history, meant to her, and yet, she had cut herself off from it in a… in a way that Jaune struggled to define – not exactly materially, since her mother hadn’t actually cut her off; not exactly spiritually either, since she remained a Nikos and drew strength from that; but in a strange admixture of the two that came from her self-imposed exile from her family home. It was clear to him that she would not blink first in this battle of wills she was having with her mother; it had brought out a stubborn side in her, or at least a proud one; she would not bend in this. Lady Nikos would have to accept Jaune, at the least.
And it seemed that she was willing to do that – if Sunset reported back to her that Jaune’s lineage made him an acceptable boyfriend. Put like that, it was a little ridiculous, but that was only because the unspoken rules had been spoken aloud. 
What was his lineage? Jaune only wished he knew. That was not to say that he was completely ignorant of his family history; in fact, he would say that he knew about as much as any other member of his family living did… but that wasn’t saying a great deal, because so much just wasn’t talked about. He knew that his great-great grandfather had fought in the Great War and had wielded the very sword Jaune himself now wielded, but he didn’t know as what or in what battles he had fought; the same, Jaune knew, was very much not true of Pyrrha’s great-great grandfather. Or any member of her family, for that matter; they probably all had all of their deeds recorded for posterity, while Jaune knew only the bare fact that he had, in some way, fought at some point during the war. 
He also knew that after the war, his great-great grandparents had been amongst the first families to found the village of Alba Longa. That was something at least… but it didn’t really compare to founding the capital of a great kingdom. 
There was no getting around the fact: when it came to the ancestors that he knew about, he just couldn’t compare with Pyrrha’s long and illustrious lineage; if you limited Pyrrha’s ancestors to the same timespan as the ones he knew of, then… no, Lady Nikos would never play that fair with him, and even if she did, there was still the fact that one of Pyrrha’s ancestors had been Emperor when his had been, as far as Jaune knew, just an ordinary soldier. 
Not that there was anything wrong with being an ordinary soldier, but it wasn’t the sort of thing that would impress Pyrrha’s mother. 
Which left him with a couple of choices, neither of which was particularly inspiring. 
The superficially easy choice was the one suggested by Sunset in the spa yesterday afternoon: fake it. Make something up. Pretend to have an illustrious lineage, far off in the mists of time, and claim that he had noble or royal blood running in his veins from however many generations back. It all seemed very easy and convenient, and doubtless, Sunset thought that she had it all – or most of it, at least – figured. 
Something that Jaune had been learning about Sunset, as he got to know her better and as he started to be able to see the cracks in her façade, was that while she was undoubtedly very clever, she was also an absolute fool. Yes, she got good grades, and she had a great wealth of knowledge stuffed away in her head, and Jaune would never deny her intelligence, but when it came to actually making decisions… frankly, she didn’t seem to like using her intelligence and appeared to prefer being ruled by her gut, her passions, or what you might describe as her heart if you were feeling charitable. And sometimes, that was a good thing, or at least it had sometimes worked out well for the team and for Jaune personally – like when she had decided to help him keep his place at Beacon – but at other times, it had led her to do things that were either stupid or horrible or both. 
Well… he thought that it was pretty horrible. Probably. Maybe. The more he thought about what she’d done to Cardin… well, it was rough on Weiss for sure that everyone thought she was a racist, and maybe rough on Flash too – Sunset seemed to think he was a racist, but Jaune wasn’t so certain of that – but what about Skystar? Didn’t she deserve to know the truth?
Jaune wasn’t… he thought the answer might be yes, but at the same time, he couldn’t think that it was worth the cost. Not just to Weiss’ own reputation, but also to Beacon itself. Some people had written about institutional racism, others about the threat to free speech in schools; it had been a storm of articles and scrollcasts raging around Beacon with such ferocity that if it had been a real storm, it would have knocked some of these Atlesian cruisers out of the sky by now. 
Granted, the storm had died down pretty quickly – astonishingly quickly, in fact; Jaune had expected it to run for much longer; it was as if somebody had called for silence and Vale’s journalists had obeyed – but that didn’t change the fact that it was something that the school probably could have done without. Sunset had lit a bonfire when a candle might have done the trick, and it was exhibit A to prove Jaune’s conviction that she didn’t always make the wisest choices. 
All of which was a somewhat long-winded way of saying that Jaune wasn’t convinced that Sunset’s advice was the best advice in this matter, not least because it rested on Sunset’s conviction that Lady Nikos was looking for an honourable exit from the impasse with Pyrrha and that she would grasp eagerly at any lifeline that was offered without looking at it too closely. Jaune… was not so sure about that. It was true that Sunset knew Pyrrha’s mother better than he did – and that they seemed to have a rather cosy connection – but Jaune felt that he knew enough about Lady Nikos to say that she wouldn’t just take his word for it that he was descended from the royal line of Vale and clasp him to her bosom. She was bound to check, and the moment she did, well, not even his transcripts had been good enough to withstand intense scrutiny; it was hard to believe that he could come up with something better when it came to fabricating his ancestry. 
Yes, he had a sword that had the same name as a sword that had once belonged to the royal family. So what? A name was a name; it could have come from anywhere. It could have been given in homage. It didn’t prove anything. 
Plus… he just didn’t like the idea of lying to Pyrrha’s mother in order to get into her good graces. Even if Pyrrha was in on it, he still didn’t like the idea. Not least because he’d be stuck keeping up the deception for years to come, and that could get exhausting. 
He also thought that Sunset hadn’t considered what would happen if Lady Nikos did accept the ruse but it was then found out by other people. Yes, she’d be reconciled with Pyrrha, but she’d also look like a credulous fool, wouldn’t she? Wasn’t that the kind of thing that made you lose face? He remembered how hard it had been to live down that time when Kale had gotten him drunk on apple scrumpy when he was fifteen. How much harder would it be for Lady Nikos to escape having once been tricked by her daughter’s boyfriend into thinking he was someone special?
Jaune knew that Sunset wouldn’t want to put Lady Nikos in that position; he just didn’t think she’d thought this through.
Which could be said of a lot of Sunset’s ideas lately, unfortunately.
Unfortunately for everyone. 
Pyrrha stirred, and this time, she filled the promise of her stirring as her vivid green eyes fluttered open, even as she made wordless and incomprehensible murmuring sound. She blinked rapidly, seeming to take a moment to realise where she was; once she did realise, she sat up rapidly. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to-”
“It’s fine,” Jaune assured her.
“But you couldn’t move!”
“Why would I want to?” Jaune asked.
Pyrrha smiled gratefully at him. “You’re much too sweet.”
“And you were too tired,” Jaune replied. “You had a rough night last night.”
“You… heard,” Pyrrha murmured.
“You don’t usually toss and turn like that,” Jaune told her.
Pyrrha winced. “Did I keep you awake? I didn’t mean to; I hope that I didn’t disturb everyone else; it’s just that-”
“It’s okay,” Jaune repeated. “I’m not the one who fell asleep, remember?”
Pyrrha chuckled, a blush rising to her cheeks. “No, I suppose you didn’t,” she admitted. “It’s just that it’s so warm out here that I… I suppose I just felt rather drowsy all of a sudden.”
“Is everything okay?” Jaune asked.
“Yes,” Pyrrha said quickly. “Everything’s fine; I just… I suppose that I’ve had things on my mind.”
“Me too,” Jaune murmured, his tone becoming a little melancholy. “But... you go first.”
“Are you sure?”
Jaune managed a slight smile. “I insist,” he said.
Pyrrha’s smile widened, if only for a moment. “I’m worried about Phoebe,” she said, “and about this business with Soteria and about… about what will happen next.”
“What will happen next?” Jaune asked.
“I don’t know; that’s what worries me,” Pyrrha replied candidly. “But I feel… I feel as though something must, and I… I hate the fact that I can’t see it. Just as I hate the fact that this is all my fault.”
“Your fault?” Jaune asked. “This isn’t your fault-”
“Phoebe is my…” Pyrrha trailed off. “My…”
“Rival?” Jaune suggested.
Pyrrha hesitated. “I think that Arslan would be rather upset if she heard me describing Phoebe as my rival, or even a rival. She might think that I was drawing a false equivalence between the two of them.” She paused. “Of course, Phoebe would hate me if she heard me saying that.”
“It sounds a little like she hates you already,” Jaune pointed out.
“Probably,” Pyrrha admitted, her tone melancholy. “And that’s just the problem, really. I… I am the one that she hates. The one that she hated. And yet, because I’m on your team, then… well, now she hates Sunset too, and there’s a chance that you and Ruby may get involved as well, and-”
“And you can ask Sunset or Ruby, and they’ll both tell you what I’m about to tell you now,” Jaune declared, squeezing Pyrrha’s hand reassuringly. “That we wouldn’t trade having you on our team for anything, certainly to avoid trouble with the likes of Phoebe Kommenos.”
Pyrrha looked as though she desperately wanted to be reassured by this, but didn’t quite dare to let herself believe it. “You say that before-”
“And we’ll say it after,” Jaune insisted. “After all, we’ve faced the White Fang; what can another student possibly do to frighten us?” He smiled and hoped to provoke a smile in Pyrrha in return.
He failed. Her face remained downcast as she said, “If anything were to happen to you because of my feud, I-”
“We both know that you would beat yourself up if any of us were hurt, no matter what the cause,” Jaune informed her.
Pyrrha did not deny it. “Is that so wrong of me, to care for you?”
“No,” Jaune whispered. “I didn’t say it was. In fact, I think – no, I know – that I’d be exactly the same way. If you were hurt or worse, I… but that doesn’t mean that it’s your fault; just because you’re the one that she hated first doesn’t mean that you deserve to be hated or that you brought anything upon us. Just because Phoebe can’t get over the fact that you beat her in the arena doesn’t mean that she’s justified in… whatever she does.”
“The fact that she is not justified will not erase the harm she does,” Pyrrha muttered darkly.
That was unfortunately true. “If it helps,” he said, “I don’t think Professor Ozpin is as easy to fool with good grades and a smart turnout.”
“No?”
Jaune shrugged. “He kept me in school, didn’t he?” he asked. “When I was up there, in his office… yes, Sunset really helped me out by lawyering the rules like she did, but I think…” He remembered before he had been called to the headmaster’s office, before Cardin had tried to out him to the authorities, when Professor Ozpin had come upon him before the statue of the huntress. “He knew,” he declared. “He absolutely knew that my transcripts were fake, and maybe Professor Goodwitch did too, but Professor Ozpin… he really wanted to keep me here, and Sunset just gave him an excuse. And he let Ruby in two years early, when a lot of headmasters wouldn’t in spite of what she did. It’s like… it’s like he can see past grades and appearance and see… I don’t know, see what’s underneath.” He chuckled. “Or maybe I just want to think I’m special.”
Now that raised a smile out of Pyrrha. “You’re the most humble person I’ve ever met.”
“Considering the kind of people you grew up with, that doesn’t surprise me too much.”
Pyrrha giggled a little, covering her mouth with her free hand. “I was trying to… but you already knew that, didn’t you?”
Jaune didn’t feel the need to answer that. “We can handle Phoebe,” he assured her, “I’m serious; we’ve dealt with a lot worse. She might be mean, but I also meant it when I said that I’m sure if she tries anything, the professors here will see through her.”
Pyrrha nodded her head slightly. “I hope you’re right.”
“I’m more worried about…”
Pyrrha waited. “Go on.”
“No, it’s fine.”
“Oh, no,” Pyrrha said. “You listened to me and my worries; now I get to listen to you.”
“Well, alright, you asked for it,” Jaune reminded her. “I was… I guess I wasn’t worrying so much as I was thinking, about your mother and about what she wants to find out about my family history.”
“And about what Sunset suggested, that you invent an illustrious lineage for yourself,” Pyrrha surmised.
“Was it that obvious?”
Pyrrha placed her free hand on top of Jaune’s hand. “Just a little,” she said softly.
Jaune smiled at her, then looked away, his gaze running out across the courtyard. “You… you’re incredibly rich,” he said.
“I’m no Weiss Schnee,” Pyrrha said.
“Nobody else is, but you don’t need to be a Schnee to be rich,” Jaune said. “Your ancestors founded a kingdom. They ruled that kingdom for centuries. And I’m just…” He looked back at her. “Has it never once crossed your mind that your money or your name are all I care about?”
“No,” Pyrrha said simply.
Jaune blinked. “No? Never?”
“Never,” Pyrrha said. “Whether that makes me a naïve girl or a hopeless romantic, I don’t know, but… no, I’ve never doubted you that way. I’ve always known… I’ve always trusted you, Jaune. I feel safe with you. I can’t imagine you ever hurting me.”
Jaune was silent for a moment. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond to that. He wasn’t sure that it was possible to respond to that. What could he say to such a declaration? He trusted Pyrrha, but it was easy to trust someone who was taking such a step downwards to be with you; the only ulterior motive Pyrrha could have had was if this was part of some long term plan to prank him for his unrealistic expectations, and that… well, that just wasn’t Pyrrha’s style, was it?
“I… Pyrrha, you’ve got to stop saying these things, they make me feel really inadequate by comparison.”
“I’m sorry,” Pyrrha said quickly. “I didn’t mean to-”
“It’s fine,” Jaune assured her. “I just meant… you’ve got such an open heart that it… it kind of awes me sometimes. It humbles me.” It amazed him, a little; in her own way, Pyrrha was every bit as innocent as Ruby, perhaps more so; it was a little incredible that nobody had hurt her in the past, taken advantage of her open heart. 
Of course, in spite of what she said, an open heart doesn’t have to mean naïve. After all, she had been pretty firm in rejecting her mother’s preferred suitor, so it wasn’t like she couldn’t smell a rat; she just didn’t pick up any kind of noxious stench from Jaune. 
He took that as a compliment. 
“I don’t want to lie to your mother,” he said.
“No,” Pyrrha murmured. “No, I didn’t think you would.”
“How…?” Jaune hesitated. “How do you feel about that?”
“I… I’m glad to hear you say it,” Pyrrha replied. “It’s not that I want this… nothing would please me more than for my mother to accept you, but I want her to accept you as my choice, as the man I chose, not as the phoney heir to the throne of Vale. Sunset means well, but she still doesn’t understand why I had to do what I’ve done. If you win her acceptance based on a lie then… I fear she will not learn anything.”
“I think that’s going a little far,” Jaune said. “If she hadn’t learned anything, then she wouldn’t have asked Sunset to look into my family in the first place.”
“I… suppose that’s true,” Pyrrha conceded. “She was not willing to listen at all before.”
“I was thinking…” Jaune said. “It’s a longshot, I know, and I don’t know how you feel about it, but I was thinking that Sunset and I could actually research my family history, see what we can dig up. I don’t know much about my family’s past beyond the Great War, and I don’t know if there’s anything to find, but maybe there is. Unless… you don’t want me to?”
“Don’t want you to?” Pyrrha repeated. “Why would I want to stop you?”
“Well… say it turned out that one of my ancestors was something special?” Jaune suggested. “I mean, it probably won’t happen, but what if it did? If your mother accepted me because of that, then… I guess-”
“It’s not so important if it’s the truth,” Pyrrha informed. “I know what I said, and I must admit that if my mother accepted you because you turned out to be the long lost heir to a duchy or the like, then I would be… I wish that she would simply accept you because you are the man I love, brave and kind, but you will still be that man and still be brave and still be kind whether you are the descendant of a king or a duke or a farmer. I would not, could not, ask you to hide who you are simply so that I can try and make a point to my mother.” She smiled. “After all, I’m the last person who could complain about anyone else having a distinguished lineage.”
Jaune grinned, although it swiftly faded from his face. What Pyrrha was saying was that she didn't mind what the truth turned out to be; she just didn't want him to lie. That cut him to the quick with a sharp reminder of the fact that he was, indeed, lying to her about something: specifically, he was lying by omitting the fact that he knew that Sunset was behind the exposure of Cardin and Bon Bon and, more importantly, what had been done to Lyra.
More of Sunset's terrible decisions. He hadn't intended to tell Pyrrha, but… now that he was in this situation, how could he not?
"It was Sunset," he said.
"Excuse me?" Pyrrha replied.
"Sunset was the one who released that audio of Cardin and Bon Bon, and Sunset was the one who revealed all that stuff about Lyra too," Jaune confessed.
"Are you sure?"
Jaune nodded glumly. "It's what we talked about alone, when you and Ruby went on ahead to breakfast. She… admitted it, eventually."
Pyrrha was silent for a moment; silent and almost without expression. "I… I see. How long have you known?"
"I didn't know for sure, not until she admitted it," Jaune said. "I didn't want you or Ruby to know."
Pyrrha frowned. "Why not?"
"I was… I was worried that you wouldn't be able to forgive her," Jaune replied quietly.
"I could always forgive Sunset," Pyrrha said, her tone containing a very mild reproach. "Provided that she was truly contrite."
"I think she is," Jaune said. "She seemed to understand… I mean, I can't judge what she did to Cardin; I'm not a faunus, and so I don't think that I can be the guy to say that what he said wasn't so bad, you know?"
"No, I agree with you completely," Pyrrha murmured. "And, as for myself, if you had such a terrible secret, then I would prefer to know about it; for all that it would break my heart if you turned out to be someone other than who I thought you were, I would still rather know than be fooled by a false happiness." She paused for a moment and rose to her feet ere she spoke again. "But that was a terrible thing to do to Lyra."
Jaune started to get up himself. "Are you going somewhere?"
"I'm going to find Sunset," Pyrrha told him. "As I said, I will always forgive her if she's contrite, but actions speak louder than words. I need to know that she not only understands what she did was wrong but that she regrets it too. And that means that she has to prove it."



"Do you regret it?"
Sunset's ears pricked up at the sound of Pyrrha's voice. She, Sunset, was in the garage, with the door open to admit as much of the sunlight as possible while she did some tuning up on her motorcycle. She was currently on her back, jacket off and arms stained with oil and grease, and had just finished reattaching a particularly troublesome nut when she was summoned.
She looked up. Pyrrha stood in the doorway, casting a shadow inside the garage. Her expression was stern, and unyielding as her armour.
"Hello to you too, Pyrrha," Sunset replied as she sat up. She levitated a rag into her glowing hands and began to wipe the oil off with it, or tried to at least.
Pyrrha's expression did not alter, nor did her tone become any less stony. "Do you regret it?"
Sunset glanced from Pyrrha to Jaune. She had an idea of what this was about, an idea that made her stomach chill, but she had to ask anyway, "Do I regret what?"
"What you did to Lyra," Pyrrha explained in a voice as sharp as Miló.
So that was what this was all about. Sunset felt a pang of irritation towards Jaune, who had, if not said that he would keep it to himself, at the very least implied it. But it was hard to be too upset with him just because he had declined to keep secrets from his girlfriend. You were supposed to be honest with your girl, after all; at least Sunset thought that you were. Honesty was one of the pillars of a relationship, at least if you were the man in it; girls ought to be allowed more leeway to take account of the fact that excellent ladies like Sunset, Pyrrha, and Blake were so often lowering themselves to the level of lunkheads like Flash, Jaune, and Sun.
At least, that was how Sunset saw it. So, even though he had – arguably – betrayed her, Sunset couldn't bring herself to be too upset about it in this instance; he was showing that heart of gold, after all.
You're a lucky girl, Pyrrha.
And besides, what she had done was deserving of censure. She had already acknowledged that to Jaune, even if she hadn't acknowledged it to Blake… Blake whom she hadn't spoken to since she had dropped the audio. Sunset abruptly found herself wondering if those two things might be connected. Was Blake mad at her? Rainbow seemed to have gotten over her disgust at what Sunset had done to Lyra, at least in the sense of not doing anything about what Sunset had done to Cardin and Bon Bon, possibly because Cardin and Bon Bon had both said such outrageously racist things, but Blake? Sunset had no idea how Blake felt about it.
Should I ask her?
How badly do I want to know the truth?
That was not, in any case, something to worry about right now. What was something to worry about right now was Pyrrha, standing in front of her, knowing the truth and looking none too happy about it.
Sunset got to her feet, if only as a stalling tactic. It was… it should probably have been an easier question to answer than it was. Did she regret what she had done to Lyra? It was strange, but she regretted what she had done to Cardin far more, if only because of the way that she had destroyed his relationship – yes, destroying his relationship had been the point of the exercise, but she was allowed to hold two contradictory ideas in her head, as demonstrated by the ease with which she did so. She regretted the hurt that she had done to him, regretted it so much that she was resolved to make it right even if she didn't know exactly how to do so. But Lyra? What she had done to Lyra didn't figure in her mind in the same way, though she had had no cause to hurt Lyra and some at least to inflict pain on Cardin. And yet it was the vengeance earned that troubled her more than the cruelty callously meted out.
She would like to say it was because Lyra didn't seem to have really suffered anything worse than a little temporary embarrassment, but the truth was it was probably as much that she saw herself in Cardin's pain.
I'm a terrible person, aren't I?
None of that, of course, was what Pyrrha wanted to hear. Pyrrha wanted to hear – or Sunset guessed she did – that Sunset did, in fact, regret it. And she did regret it. She regretted it less than the more deserved thing that she had done, but nevertheless… she could acknowledge that it had been a cruel thing, and undeserved; it had been an unworthy thing, action for the sake of action, punishment by proxy, hurting Lyra because she wanted to hurt someone.
"Yes," she said. "I regret it. I should have just challenged Bon Bon to a duel and kicked her ass."
Pyrrha did not demur from that. "That would have been a more acceptable way of airing your grievance," she agreed. "But you didn't."
"No," Sunset agreed, her voice quiet and brittle. She almost wanted – no, she did want – to skip this conversation and get to the point where Pyrrha explained what she had planned to do next. Had she just lost a friend? Would the team be divided in two for the second time? What did Pyrrha mean to do? "No, I didn't."
"Why not?" Pyrrha demanded. "How could you do something so viciously misguided?"
"Because I wanted to send Bon Bon a message: leave my friends alone," Sunset said. "Isn't the duty to avenge a friend supposed to be a sacred one?"
"Revenge for death or injury, not humiliation that Blake shrugged off as utterly unimportant," Pyrrha declared. "And revenge upon they who did the injury, not their friend in turn. What did Lyra have to do with any of this?"
Sunset looked away. "None," she said. "None at all except that, as you say, she was Bon Bon's friend. I shouldn't have done it. Jaune helped me see that I shouldn't have done it. As I said, I regret it."
"Do you?" Pyrrha asked.
"I just said so, didn't I?"
"Then show me," Pyrrha insisted. "Go to Professor Ozpin and admit what you did."
Sunset said nothing for a moment. Now they had reached the end of the conversation, and she had not expected this. "You… want me to confess?"
Pyrrha nodded, a slight, and slightly stiff gesture. "If you are contrite, then you'll admit what you've done and take the consequences for it."
"And then what?"
"And then I will say nothing more about it," Pyrrha declared. "And Ruby doesn't have to know."
Sunset's eyes narrowed at the pretty clear implications of that. "That sounds almost like blackmail, Pyrrha," she said.
"You asked for this, Sunset," Pyrrha informed her.
"By doing what I did?"
"No," Pyrrha replied. "In the Bullhead, on the way back from the Forever Fall."
The Forever Fall? But that was… oh. Oh, right.
"Just… in the future, if I'm becoming too much of a jerk… if I'm getting too awful… stop me."
Sunset snorted softly. "So, this is how you're going to stop me?"
"I'm hoping that we don't have to stop you," Pyrrha murmured. "Jaune says that you've already realised that you were walking down a dark path."
"But you need proof?" Sunset asked.
Pyrrha hesitated before she said, "Actions speak louder than words."
That was true enough. It was also true that Pyrrha was really being quite reasonable. Rainbow Dash, Blake, even Jaune had all been too soft on her, giving warnings that they had not or would not follow through on. Although none of them were Cardin, in that none of them relished the power they had over Sunset, they had all made the same mistake of failing to match their own words with actions and so shown themselves to be toothless.
Pyrrha was not making the same mistake. Pyrrha was getting straight down to business.
This is why she is the best of us; she strikes without hesitation because she has a clean conscience and a spotless intent.
And she was doing so while still offering Sunset mercy. For Ruby to remain ignorant – she would have to explain whatever punishment Professor Ozpin chose to mete out to her, but that was not impossible – for Pyrrha to put the matter aside as though she had forgotten, that was more than Sunset deserved and more than she had a right to expect.
And Sunset did regret it. If there were other things that she regretted more, then, well, she could confess those too.
To Professor Ozpin… and to Twilight, too.
And Twilight will tell… her.
Dear Princess Celestia… I haven't changed at all.



The elevator ground slowly.
Sunset was sure that it was doing it on purpose.
And in the meantime, as she waited for the lift to complete its ascent to Professor Ozpin’s office – why did he have to sit up so high? – she was trapped within this metal box, rattling up the Emerald Tower, with nothing to do but think.
Or brood.
She had a great many things to think or brood upon.
She did not want to go and see Professor Ozpin. This would be the first time that she had gone up to his office since she had started to put the pieces together about what he knew, since she had started to wonder if his designs on Ruby or Pyrrha might be to turn them into one of his prophets. It was the first time since she had had something approaching real evidence to back up her suspicions of the man.
Would he realise that? Would he be able to tell? Sunset knew that the old man knew more than he let on, but she had also suspected – or feared – that he was able to perceive more than he ought to have. He knew about her magic – no surprise there – but he also… there was something about him, as if he could look into her soul. She didn’t like it. She never had.
Just like she’d never liked him even before she had solid cause to dislike him and to fear what he intended for her friends.
Her friends. The reason why she was inside this elevator cab, being born with painful, agonising slowness towards a man she did not want to see, because Pyrrha had asked it of her.
Pyrrha had done more than asked it; Pyrrha had demanded it as the price of her continued friendship.
Sunset frowned. That was… not fair. That was an interpretation born out of fear and dislike of Professor Ozpin so strong it sought to blame the one responsible for sending her to Professor Ozpin. But it wasn’t fair to think of what they had done like that. It might be literally correct, but that didn’t mean that it was right.
No, no, it wasn’t even correct; Pyrrha hadn’t threatened to turn away from Sunset… although she had pretty strongly implied it.
But Sunset had asked for that, when she asked them to stop her.
I didn’t mean that.
I didn’t know what I meant.
Was I expecting them to physically stop me? To beat me down until I cried for mercy?
That might have been preferable to this.
Oh, don’t be ridiculous. I’ll just get a couple of detentions or something.
And Ruby doesn’t have to know.
Pyrrha is doing the right thing. Jaune, Blake, Rainbow Dash, they’ve all been too soft on me. This is the kind of medicine I understand.
That doesn’t make it taste any better.
Sunset folded her arms and leaned against the back of the elevator. She glanced at the wall to her right; her reflection looked back at her from the metal panels; it was distorted, twisted like a funhouse mirror. Her reflection seemed to be wearing a sour expression nonetheless.
“Is it worth it?” her twisted reflection asked.
Sunset wrinkled her nose. “Is what worth what? Be specific?”
“You know what I mean,” her reflection replied. “I’m you, remember? Is having friends worth all this effort, all this aggravation?”
“Yes!”
“Why?”
“Because I have people that I can depend on, that’s why!”
“Can you?” her reflection demanded. “Then what are you doing here?”
“I’m making amends.”
“You’re submitting to Pyrrha’s will.”
“There’s nothing wrong with submission as long as the one that you’re submitting to is just.”
“That doesn’t mean you like it.”
“That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t do it.”
“You’re abasing yourself!” her reflection sneered. “What happened to your pride?”
“I am as proud as ever.”
“Hardly. You’re letting precious Pyrrha push you around-”
“I’m proving to her that I’m not a bad person,” Sunset declared. “I’m proving to myself that I’m not a bad person.”
“We were better off by ourselves.”
“No, we weren’t.”
“Nobody to please. Nobody to answer to.”
“Nobody to care about us. Nobody to help us out.”
“When was the last time any of our so-called friends helped us out?”
“They’re doing it right now,” Sunset muttered.
“We do so much for all of them,” her reflection proclaimed. “We save their lives, we fight their battles, and all that we get from them in return is more and more hassle and demands upon us. ‘Sunset do this,’ ‘Sunset do that,’ ‘Sunset let me take all the glory-’”
“I don’t give a crap!” Sunset snarled, slamming her fist into the wall. “We were not better off by ourselves, okay? Let’s be honest if we’re going to do this: we were miserable and lonely, and we hated every second of it! So I don’t care what you have to say or what you think or what we have to put up with, we’re sticking to it because it’s still better by ten miles than what we had before!” She took in a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. “We’re sticking to it because I care about them, and that’s enough. That’s enough. I care about them, and I’m going to stay with them, and if you don’t like it, then tough.”
The elevator door slid open.
“Miss… Shimmer?” Professor Ozpin asked; he had gotten up from his desk and looked as though he had been walking towards the elevator as it opened; he leaned upon his cane as he bent forwards to take a look inside. “Are you alone in there?”
Sunset’s eyebrow rose. “Yes, Professor. Is that a problem?”
“Not a problem, Miss Shimmer; I simply thought I heard raised voices coming from inside.”
Did I say all of that out loud? Sunset cleared her throat loudly, running one hand through her fiery hair. “Nope, nobody here but me, Professor,” she declared with faux good cheer in her voice as she stepped out of the elevator cab. “Not even me in there any more.” She laughed nervously. “It must have been the creaking of the cables.”
“Probably,” Professor Ozpin appeared to acknowledge, in a tone that gave little away as to whether he believed her or not. “Now, what can I do for you, Miss Shimmer?”
Sunset let the question hang in the air for a moment, lingering like one of the Atlesian cruisers visible out of the windows. She didn’t meet his eyes. She took another step forwards, and her tail twitched as she clasped her hands together behind her back. “I… I have something to tell you, Professor. It… it was me. I released the audio of Cardin and Bon Bon to the media… and I released Lyra’s personal data too.”
Professor Ozpin was still for a moment, and silent. He gazed down upon her, his grey eyes cloudy and inscrutable. His voice, when it came, was soft; Sunset almost had to strain to hear him. “I see. May I ask why?”
“I wanted to punish them,” Sunset said. “For what they did to Blake.”
“What did Miss Heartstrings do to Miss Belladonna?” Professor Ozpin asked.
Sunset bit her lip. “Nothing,” she confessed. “I did that to injure Bon Bon by proxy.”
“I see,” Professor Ozpin repeated, his voice becoming sterner. He turned away from her and walked around and then behind his desk. However, he did not sit down; he remained standing, set above Sunset. “And why do you tell me this now?”
“I’m not sure that’s any of your business, Professor,” Sunset replied, taking a couple of steps closer to his desk, under the grinding gears of the clock.
“On the contrary, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin, “I consider it very much my business why you decided to torment a fellow student who had done you no wrong and then decided to confess the fact.”
“'Torment' is a harsh word, Professor.”
Professor Ozpin raised one grey eyebrow into the recesses of his bangs. “You will forgive me for saying so, Miss Shimmer, but you seem more contrite about what many would see – considering what Mister Winchester and Miss Bonaventure said to Miss Belladonna – as the lesser offence.”
Sunset shuffled uncomfortably in place. “It is the offence that I regret more,” she admitted.
“Why?”
Sunset hesitated. “Because I destroyed a love,” she said. “Because a flower bloomed in the garden, and I have poisoned it. That was, I confess, my intention for my actions, but now that I behold the fruits of that same… I am disgusted with myself.”
“And yet you are not disgusted with yourself for having attacked someone who did you no wrong, by exposing her secrets to the school, by holding her up to mockery.”
“Cardin has suffered by my actions more than Lyra has,” Sunset declared. “I am not aware that her true friends have forsaken her, that her teammates hold her in any less affection than they did before, that she endures anything more now than a little light teasing. Cardin… Cardin has lost something rare and beautiful.”
“So your regret is proportional to the consequences of your actions, as you perceive them, and not upon the morality of the act itself?”
“I’m aware that what I did was wrong, if that’s what you’re asking,” Sunset replied. “But… yes, Professor, my regret is from the harm, not from the act. Why should it be otherwise? If I throw a punch at someone in anger, should I not regret the blow that lands more than that which missed?”
“Some might argue that you should regret that blow that did not deserve to fall more than that which did,” Professor Ozpin murmured. “Some might argue that what Mister Winchester and Miss Bonaventure said and planned to do was so reprehensible that they, in the common parlance, had it coming.”
“I’m sure that some people do, Professor,” Sunset replied. Rainbow and Pyrrha amongst them. “I don’t know if you feel that way as well, and I don’t expect it to influence how you punish me – or what you punish me for – but it’s how I feel, and I… I don’t see the point in lying about that.” Not to you, at least.
Now, at last, Professor Ozpin took his seat. “I see,” he murmured. “I must confess that I am not blind to the merits of your position, Miss Shimmer; there are certainly times when I too weigh up the consequences of my actions and decide that, although the act itself may seem disreputable to an outsider, it has nevertheless accomplished a worthy goal or avoided a much greater harm.”
Is that how you justify all of this? Sunset wondered. All of the lies, the hiding away of the world’s magic – and with it, all the world’s hope also – the stuffing away in boxes of people who would otherwise have flown far and free, the keeping of secrets from Ruby, the using people to advance your agenda? Is it all justified in your mind because it avoids much greater harm?
It turned out that there were limits to Sunset’s consequentialism, and those limits started where the actions touched her friends.
I’m a hypocrite. Who would have guessed?
Her eyes narrowed a little. Why had Professor Ozpin felt the need to tell her that? He had no need to explain himself to her, especially not in these circumstances. So why say it? Why let her know that he agreed with her position, at least in part? Why should he go out of his way so?
Unless it’s because he knows I’m onto him and he thinks that he can make me understand that way. Sunset’s tail shivered, brushing against both her legs in turn.
And the worst part is that I can’t even ask him why he’s telling me this to get a feel for whether I’m on the right track or not.
Does he know I know, or doesn’t he?
“It is for that reason,” Professor Ozpin continued, “that I have turned a blind eye to some previous malefactions of yours, Miss Shimmer. Your removal of Mister Arc’s ostensible transcripts from the records, for one thing, was justified by a focus upon consequence. It was better that Mister Arc remain at this school than that you should be punished for what was, after all, an act of theft.”
He does know! Sunset felt as though metal jaws were closing in on either side of her; it was all that she could do not to teleport away. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about, Professor.”
Professor Ozpin chuckled. “Very well, Miss Shimmer, we will maintain that fiction, if you wish.” He did not mention Summer Rose’s diary; whether he didn’t realise that was missing too or he didn’t want to discuss the implications of the fact that he had had the journal in the first place – after all, if you wanted to talk about consequences, it was hard to argue that Ruby knowing a little more about her mother wasn’t some sort of net good – Sunset did not know. But she found herself glad that he did not bring it up.
His tone became serious once more as he added, “However, I am afraid that I cannot overlook this new offence on the same grounds.”
“I wouldn’t expect you too, Professor.”
Professor Ozpin did not reply immediately. He sat back in his chair and kept her waiting. Princess Celestia had sometimes done that, in an effort to give Sunset more time to think about what she had done and why it had been wrong.
It hadn’t always worked, and Sunset wasn’t sure that – if that was Professor Ozpin’s intent – it was working now. She couldn’t just change how she felt so swiftly and without thought. She did feel more guilty about what she’d done to Cardin than what she’d done to Lyra, and whether that was because of consequentialism or because she felt more kinship with Cardin… it wasn’t something that she could just wish away because she’d been told she should.
“What you have done is a serious matter, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin reminded her.
“I’m aware, Professor.”
“Are you?”
“I’m aware of the severity; I just don’t feel it caused… as much bother as it might have,” Sunset replied.
“How much ‘bother’ was it your intent to cause?” Professor Ozpin asked.
“Enough that Bon Bon wouldn’t have dared say those things to Blake,” Sunset said.
“Hmm,” Professor Ozpin murmured. “Do you remember what I told you, Miss Shimmer, on the night of your first encounter with Mister Torchwick?”
Sunset nodded. “Nobody comes to Beacon a hero, Professor.”
“Indeed, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said. “I daresay that the girl I met that night would not have done these things… because she would not have cared enough to intervene on Miss Belladonna’s behalf.”
Sunset sighed. “There is much truth in what you say, Professor; I have… learned to care for others since I have been here.”
“But not to care wisely, or to channel those feelings into more productive avenues,” Professor Ozpin remarked coolly.
Sunset inhaled through her nostrils. “Perhaps not, Professor, but there are still three years and more to come.”
“Perhaps,” Professor Ozpin said softly.
Sunset’s ears pricked up. 'Perhaps'? What do you mean, 'perhaps'? Was he going to expel her? Was he going to kick her out? Was her adventure going to end here? “Professor, I… I came to you! Surely that entitles me to a little consideration.”
“Surely you agree, Miss Shimmer, that some acts are beyond consideration?”
“I’m not sure that I do, Professor; I certainly don’t think my acts are amongst them.”
“No, I don’t suppose you do, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin replied. “However, you may put your fears at rest; I have no intention of expelling you from this school.”
Sunset fought very hard to suppress her sigh of relief; she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.
“Detention,” Professor Ozpin said, “Tomorrow night, with Professor Goodwitch.”
Sunset blinked. “One night of detention, Professor?” That was… extraordinarily generous of him.
But wasn’t that what Raven had warned Ruby about? That Professor Ozpin played favourites and turned a blind eye to the teams that he had set his eyes upon?
Does he know that I know that, and he’s sending me a message?
“As you pointed out, Miss Shimmer, there seems to have been little harm done to Miss Heartstrings in the end,” Professor Ozpin said. “And as for the matter of Mister Winchester and Miss Bonaventure, I have no wish to fuel the fires that are, thankfully, dying down around that revelation by making you a cause celebre for those who might otherwise claim that I am punishing a whistleblower. Better to let that particular business lie where it has fallen.”
“I… see, Professor,” Sunset murmured. Is that really all there is to it? She had her doubts, to say the least.
“That will be all, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said.
Sunset nodded sharply. “Of course, Professor.” She turned away and began to walk back towards the elevator.
“Miss Shimmer?” Professor Ozpin said.
Sunset stopped, and looked over her shoulder. “Something else, Professor?”
“Next time you happen to be recording an incident like the one between Mister Winchester, Miss Bonaventure, and Miss Belladonna, come to me before you go to the press,” Professor Ozpin said.
I’d feel a lot less guilty if I’d done that, certainly, Sunset thought. And Cardin and Skystar might still be together. “Yes, Professor,” she said. “You have my word.”



Pyrrha waited in the tower lobby for Sunset to descend again. And as she waited, she could not help but feel disappointed. Disappointed a little with Jaune, she must admit, for having kept this secret from her after he had known – or even when he had begun to suspect. But even more disappointed with Sunset; mostly disappointed with Sunset. 
They had known. Lyra had known the truth, and though she had been generous enough not to attempt to persuade Pyrrha of the fact… was it still generous when it had kept the truth from her?
She had trusted Sunset. She had believed that she was different, better, that she was beyond such things as this. 
She hoped that she was not completely foolish in such hope and trust. She did not think so. She had seen a change in Sunset; they all had. This was an aberration. A step backwards. This was not who Sunset had become.
At least, she hoped it was not. 
It was not. She believed it was not. She trusted it was not.
Sunset was still her friend, and as her friend, so Pyrrha trusted her. 
And Sunset had proved that she was worthy of that trust, not only by admitting that she was at fault to Pyrrha but also to Professor Ozpin. If she had refused to go, then Pyrrha would have been forced to entertain more serious doubts, but since Sunset had gone, all Pyrrha was left with was the twinge of disappointment. 
She wished it had not come to this. She wished that Sunset had not fallen so. 
Jaune blamed Cinder. Pyrrha… would have liked it to be so easy. 
She didn’t particularly like Cinder herself, but at the same time… there was something within Sunset that drove her to… to do such things as this.
It was something that Pyrrha would have to accept, as the price of being Sunset’s friend.
Accept, and try to guard her friend against her own worst impulses.
The elevator door opened, and Sunset stepped out into the lobby with its ambient green glow. She looked around and caught sight of Pyrrha, who had in any case begun to make her way towards Sunset.
“You didn’t need to wait for me,” Sunset pointed out.
“No,” Pyrrha agreed. “But I wanted to. How…?” She hesitated. “How did it go?”
Now it was Sunset’s turn to fall briefly silent. “I have detention,” she murmured, “tomorrow night.”
“'Tomorrow night'?” Pyrrha repeated. “You… I mean, you were only given-”
“You don’t need to hide it; I was surprised to get off so lightly too,” Sunset cut her off. “I think it’s a bad sign.”
“You wanted to be punished more?”
“It’s like Raven said; he’s letting me get away with stuff because he’s got an interest in our team.”
Pyrrha wanted nothing so much in that moment as to tell Sunset that she was being absolutely ridiculous. And yet, the words would not emerge from out of her throat; they stuck there as though it was their intent to choke her to death. Why had Professor Ozpin been so lenient? Why give out a punishment that was so token? It was little more than a slap on the wrist for what Sunset had done. 
Was it possible that the offence was not actually so great as Pyrrha had thought? When she had heard what Sunset had done, Pyrrha had been shocked that Sunset could descend so low; now, she was confronted with the possibility – vouchsafed by the headmaster, no less – that it was not actually something of any matter whatsoever. 
Yet still she would have rather believed that than believed in Sunset’s paranoia. 
“Or perhaps it really was no great matter,” Pyrrha murmured. “Nevertheless, I am grateful that you did this.”
“And I’m grateful that you made me,” Sunset said.
“You don’t need to pretend-”
“I’m not,” Sunset insisted. “Seriously, I mean it; I… I needed to do this, and you were the only one who made me do it. Jaune, Rainbow, Blake, none of them had the guts to hold my feet to the fire like this, only you. I needed it. I… need you.”
“And you have me,” Pyrrha said, smiling a little as she held out one hand. There was nothing more upon this matter to be said; she had given her word that, if Sunset confessed, then she would say no more about it; and she would hold to it. 
Even if it did niggle at her mind from time to time.
Sunset took her hand, and clasped it warmly. “This won’t happen again,” she vowed.
“I know,” Pyrrha replied, and she believed it.
She wanted to believe it.