//------------------------------//
// Evenstar (New) 
// Story: SAPR 
// by Scipio Smith 
//------------------------------//


Evenstar


Terri-Belle Thrax bowed. “Thank you for seeing me, my lady.”
“When the Warden of the White Tower comes to my gate, how can I not open it?” Lady Nikos asked in reply. “I take it from your dress – and the fact that we are hardly close – that you are here upon some official business?”
“I am, my lady,” Terri-Belle said, straightening her back as she rose from her bow. She was not armed – there was no call to take a spear to call upon Lady Nikos in her home, and in any case, it might have alarmed the people to see her striding around the streets of the higher slope armed for battle – but she was armoured, in linothorax cuirass and pteruges, to demonstrate that she was not here not just as Terri-Belle Thrax, daughter of the Steward of Mistral, but also as Warden of the White Tower, her father’s right hand and commander of the Imperial Guard. 
“Indeed,” Lady Nikos murmured. “Well then, Lady Terri-Belle, will it please you to come into my study, where we may talk in private?”
“It would indeed, my lady.”
“And will you take refreshment, also?” Lady Nikos asked as she began to turn away, her long gown of emerald green trailing after her. “I often take a repast at around this time, if you would care to join me.”
Terri-Belle bowed her head. “That would be most welcome, my lady.”
“Iris!” Lady Nikos called out to one of the maids who waited beside the grand staircase, “Tea and pastries in my study, for myself and Lady Terri-Belle.”
The maid bowed. “At once, my lady.”
“Please, Lady Terri-Belle, follow me,” Lady Nikos said as she began to ascend the stairs. 
Terri-Belle followed after her. She could easily have outstripped the head of the Nikos family, whose movements were hampered by her injured leg, the limp which was becoming more pronounced by the day at present, but to have done so would have been rude in any circumstances, and especially in Lady Nikos’ own house. 
Plus, Terri-Belle would not have known where she was going; she had not called upon Lady Nikos in her home before, still less been to her study. 
And so, she slowed her steps and made sure to walk behind her noble host, betraying no sign of impatience as they climbed the grand staircase and walked through corridors lined with antiques, relics of Mistral’s noble past and of the part that the House of Nikos had played in that same past through the centuries. 
Fortunately, she was very practiced at this; her own father moved rather more slowly than she did nowadays, and she had learned from necessity how to slow her steps. 
They came at last to Lady Nikos’ study, a small and confined space, bounded upon one wall by shelves of old leatherbound books piled high, one upon the other, reaching from floor to ceiling; and upon the other side by a wall of testaments to the greatness of Lady Pyrrha. 
What Lady Pyrrha herself thought of such a thing, Terri-Belle could scarcely imagine; she did not know the Nikos heir very well – Terri-Belle was a full ten years older than Pyrrha – but she seemed modest and unassuming. That could have been part of her public persona, but if so, it was a very good performance to which she was very committed. 
Lady Nikos, clearly, was more traditional; Mistralians did not believe in hiding their lights beneath bushels. 
And it was not as though she had no reason to be proud; her daughter’s accomplishments spoke for themselves, so why not speak of them further, and at great volume?
Lady Nikos’ gown trailed across the floor as she walked behind an ebony desk, upon which rested various mementos, curios, and the like. She sat down, gesturing with one pale hand for Terri-Belle to take the seat on the other side of the desk. 
Terri-Belle did so, adjusting the great horn that she wore at her hip so that it rested lightly upon her lap instead of getting wedged between her thigh and the arm of the chair. 
There was a knock upon the door behind her, and the maid entered bearing a tray in her arms, containing a porcelain teapot decorated in the Mikawachi style, two teacups and all the other accoutrements similarly decorated, and a plate of pastries that looked soft and warm. 
“My lady,” the maid said softly, setting the tray down upon the table.
“Thank you, Iris; you may leave us now,” Lady Nikos said.
The maid – Iris – bowed and withdrew, shutting the door behind her. 
Terri-Belle began to rise.
“Remain seated, Lady Terri-Belle; you are a guest in my house,” Lady Nikos declared as she herself got up and poured the tea into the porcelain cups. “Do you take milk? Sugar?”
“Neither, my lady, thank you,” Terri-Belle replied, and received her cup of steaming black tea from Lady Nikos’ outstretched hands. She took a sip. “Exquisite quality,” she pronounced.
“Would you expect anything less?” Lady Nikos asked.
“Of course not, my lady; I meant no offence,” Terri-Belle assured her. She glanced at the wall full of commemorations of Pyrrha’s triumphs. “Will there soon be another item to celebrate what they are calling the Breach? Or is it there already and my eyes have missed it?”
“There is not,” Lady Nikos said. “I must confess, I am not sure there is much in the Breach, as it shall be known, to celebrate.”
“The deliverance of a city?” Terri-Belle suggested. “In my experience, my lady, victory in battle is always to be celebrated. With so much at stake, we cannot afford to be precious about the manner in which the victory was won.”
“Nevertheless, the mere fact that Pyrrha was present at such and such a place does not accord it a place of honour on my wall as by right,” Lady Nikos said. “I celebrate Pyrrha’s accomplishment, I glory in them as if they were my own, but I am not aware that my daughter accomplished anything at the Breach beyond being there.”
“I am not aware that she disgraced herself,” Terri-Belle murmured.
“The mere fact of not disgracing herself will not add lustre to her name,” Lady Nikos responded. 
“That is not the mood within the city,” Terri-Belle said. “In many quarters, the mere fact that Pyrrha Nikos and Arslan Altan were present at the Breach is sufficient to make them heroes of the hour.”
“You ask me to substitute the judgement of the general for my own?” Lady Nikos asked.
“No, my lady,” Terri-Belle said, “although I must say that it has pleased my father to encourage the idea of Pyrrha’s heroism – and Arslan Altan’s, but especially that of the Princess Without a Crown – as a check against unnecessary alarm. When news of the Breach broke… although it happened far away, that news footage of the grimm swarming up out of the ground was very distressing. That distress might not have been enough to bring a horde to our doors, but after our experiences of a few months ago, I hope you understand why we were not anxious to take the risk of a grimm resurgence. So many huntsmen are still scattered throughout the territory, and…”
Lady Nikos sipped at her tea while she waited for Terri-Belle to finish. When the daughter of the Steward did not continue, she leaned forward. “And, Lady Terri-Belle?”
Terri-Belle frowned. “I trust that anything I say to you will be in confidence, my lady?”
“I am not accustomed to wild gossip, Lady Terri-Belle.”
Terri-Belle hesitated for a moment. “Many huntsmen are late returning from their missions,” she said, “and the number that are overdue home is increasing. Even some of my own guard are amongst them.”
Lady Nikos frowned. “I have heard nothing of this.”
“For obvious reasons, we are not keen to trumpet the fact,” Terri-Belle said. “Lionheart says there is nothing to be concerned with-”
“I am not sure I would trust Lionheart if he told me the sky was blue,” Lady Nikos muttered. 
“Having had the benefit of his instruction, I fear you are correct; he was never much good that I can remember,” Terri-Belle muttered. Father should have dismissed him years ago. 
She would not say that aloud to Lady Nikos – she would not speak ill of her father’s choices to an outsider thus – but she had asked him to do so as early as her graduation from Haven. Yes, the system appeared to have been set up to make it deliberately difficult to replace a headmaster – not only did not it require a unanimous vote of the rest of the Council, but appointments and dismissals also required the unanimous consent of the other headmasters, allowing them to protect one another if they chose – but it was a fight that Terri-Belle believed her father could have won, albeit at the cost of a great deal of energy and political capital. Her father was not minded to spend either unless he had to, preferring to conserve both for political emergencies. And besides, as he had explained to Terri-Belle, there were advantages to a headmaster whom no one like or respected, who belonged to no faction and who could have no political ambitions of their own: it made him malleable and dependent upon those who could protect him from his critics. 
Terri-Belle was not certain that advantage was worth the cost of having such a man at the head of Haven. Small wonder that their brightest star had preferred Beacon. 
“If they do not start returning soon, then I shall have to go myself and look for them,” Terri-Belle declared.
“On the reasonable assumption that something or someone has delayed them, that could be perilous, Lady Terri-Belle,” Lady Nikos said.
“What other choice do I have, my lady? To send others in my place?” Terri-Belle asked. “And if they do not return, what then? Search parties to seek out the search parties? No, my lady, if something preys upon our huntsmen, then I will master it, man or beast. I am the Warden of the White Tower. And I will not cower behind the city walls and ask another to do what I would not.”
“And if you do not return?” Lady Nikos asked.
“Then I have three sisters to carry on the line of Thrax, and take our father’s place upon the Steward’s chair in time,” Terri-Belle said. She hesitated for a moment, drinking the last of her tea and setting down the porcelain cup. “Although, my lady, I must say that I could depart – both from Mistral and, if need be, from this world – if I knew that Mistral would be defended by a stout-hearted champion in my absence.”
“Ah,” Lady Nikos said. “I think you come at last to the reason for your visit, Lady Terri-Belle.”
Terri-Belle looked her squarely in the eyes. “Lady Nikos, when Pyrrha came home for the vacation, I offered her a position in the Imperial Guard. Was it Pyrrha’s idea to mobilise a vast array of the great and good against the notion, or yours?”
“Mine, of course, Lady Terri-Belle,” Lady Nikos said. “Pyrrha might have refused you, but she would not have made the refusal quite so… final.”
“'Final'? I hope not, my lady,” Terri-Belle said. She paused. “My lady knows that I am not a fangirl; I speak only of the good of Mistral, which is to me the highest good in all of Remnant.”
“Of course, Lady Terri-Belle,” Lady Nikos replied. “Fortunately, the abdication of my family has freed me to consider other goods, besides that of Mistral.”
“More personal goods, perhaps,” Terri-Belle muttered. “And yet, I must admit that I am somewhat mystified, my lady; what with the White Fang attacks, bombings, robberies, and now this? Vale appears to have descended into chaos, not to mention was completely unable to defend itself against attack-”
“You will permit me to wonder aloud, Lady Terri-Belle, if we would have done any better than the Valish when faced with a similar situation and no Atlesian aid in sight,” Lady Nikos murmured.
Terri-Belle chewed upon her. Lady Nikos’ words cut like a sword because they could not be easily refuted. Mistral, unlike Vale or Atlas, did not have a standing army, and the processes by which an army could be raised, either by seeking contributions from the noble families or else a mass levy of the citizenry, were ponderous and slow moving. In such a situation as Vale found itself, without any Atlesian assistance closer than Argus, Mistral might well have been overrun. 
“I daresay we would have given good account of ourselves,” Terri-Belle said stubbornly, but it was a childish stubbornness, born out of the lack of a real response. What was the point of giving a good account of oneself if you still lost, if you not only perished but allowed the city to perish also? Mistralian culture was not above celebrating a glorious death, even as part of a glorious defeat, but there had to be at least somebody left alive to celebrate. 
And besides, Terri-Belle had never much cared for those kinds of stories. 
“But we were fortunate, my lady, that we did not come under attack, and if destiny wills it, so we shall not,” Terri-Belle went on. “My lady, with the Vale in its present state of disorder, there are many who believe that all our Haven students should come home, and our Mistralian sons and daughters with them. That question, and how we may better prepare our own city so that we are not caught in so shameful a position as the Valish, are ones that will be taken up in open court in a few days’ time.”
Lady Nikos’ eyebrows rose. “'In open court'? That is… anachronistic, wouldn’t you say, Lady Terri-Belle? The Council-”
“Is not the city,” Terri-Belle said. “Why should my father constrain himself to listening to the opinions of four other men, one of whom is Lionheart, when he may hear the wisdom of all our notables and worthies?”
“Does the Lord Steward intend to do what the majority think best, or take what he deems the best advice?” Lady Nikos asked.
“I cannot say, my lady,” Terri-Belle admitted. “If my father had plans that he could share with me in advance, there would be small point in an assembly, would there? I hope, for all that you are removed from the need to hold the good of Mistral as your guiding star, that you will attend the court.”
“I will not stay away,” Lady Nikos declared.
“I am glad to hear it, as will be my father,” Terri-Belle said. Once more, she took pause. “If you announce that you are bringing Pyrrha back to Mistral, it will have a great effect in court, and in the streets, the people will rejoice to have their princess home.”
“And if I say otherwise, it will likewise have a great effect?” Lady Nikos asked, with a somewhat arch tone as if she already knew the answer.
Terri-Belle sighed. “My lady, do you really believe that your daughter is safe in Vale?”
Now, it was Lady Nikos’ turn to fall momentarily silent. “Do not mistake me, Lady Terri-Belle; the question has preoccupied me since news of the White Fang attacks reached us here in Mistral. You must not think that I am so dazzled by the thought of Vytal crowns that I would cast aside my daughter’s life in the pursuit of one. It is only the fact that Pyrrha’s survival was reported widely that enables me to be so calm. Thought I that there was worse to come than this, I might give ear to your arguments. But it appears that the White Fang, although unchecked for too long, have been comprehensively defeated, and I cannot imagine that there will be another grimm attack on such scale so hard upon the first. I did not think they fell so regularly.”
“Hordes rarely come in quick succession,” Terri-Belle conceded. “They tend to drain the areas they pass through of grimm, so that if they are defeated, a period of calm will often follow as the numbers of the monsters are diminished.”
“Then is it not a little late to fear and to talk of bringing our children home?” Lady Nikos asked.
“My lady knows this sentiment has been building up for some time,” Terri-Belle said. “For many, this is the last straw.”
“And yet, it seems the horse has bolted, so why slam the door?” Lady Nikos asked. She sighed. “In any event, it is not my decision. Only Pyrrha can decide whether she stays or goes, and I think she will desire to stay.”
Terri-Belle’s eyes narrowed. “You are her mother.”
“And she has defied me once already, to take up with a Valish boy,” Lady Nikos said.
Ah, yes, Terri-Belle remembered that now. She tried to rise above the gossip of the gutter press, but her sisters had found the whole thing fascinating; as, to be fair, had great swathes of Mistral. The Princess Without a Crown, dating some Valish nobody. 
Terri-Belle hoped that they knew what they were doing; the tabloids could be as monstrous as any creature of grimm, and far less forgiving of error, in her experience. 
“Will you at least allow me to speak with her, my lady, and put the question?” Terri-Belle asked.
Lady Nikos nodded. “You may ask, Lady Terri-Belle,” she agreed, reaching into a drawer in her desk and taking out a scroll. “I do not believe you will succeed, but you may certainly try.”



Pyrrha slipped one hand into the crook of Jaune’s arm and clasped her other hand over it, leaning ever so slightly against him as they walked back towards the door down off the roof and into the hospital. 
Her scroll began to go off. 
Pyrrha frowned slightly. “I’m sorry,” she said to both Jaune and Sunset as she pulled her arms away from Jaune and fished her scroll out of one of the pouches at her belt. “It’s my mother,” she said as she saw the caller ID when she opened the device. “Excuse me a moment.” She turned away from Jaune and began to step lightly back towards the edge of the roof as she took the call. “Good afternoon, Mother,” she said, calmly and without a great deal of emotion. 
She was… she would scarcely have known how to speak to her mother at the best of times. After the way that her mother had treated her – and treated Jaune – over the vacation, they had… come to an understanding as to the limits of the interference in her life that Pyrrha would tolerate, and on the basis of that, Pyrrha had let her mother back in. But they hadn’t spoken since Pyrrha had dictated terms, and that conversation had occurred before the mission to Mountain Glenn that had… it might not have changed a great deal in real terms, but Pyrrha felt differently than she had before. 
To a great extent, she felt worse. 
She hardly felt in the mood to speak to her mother at the moment. She had no idea of either what to say or how to say it. 
“Pyrrha,” Lady Nikos said, looking up at her from the screen of the scroll. “I… would like to speak to you,” she said, which seemed a strange thing to say when, after all, she had already indicated as much by calling, but then she went on, “however, there is a visitor who would like a word with you first.”
The scroll displayed an image of Mother’s study, evidently as the device itself changed hands, passing across the ebony writing desk before displaying the hard, angular face and grey eyes of Terri-Belle Thrax. 
“Lady Terri-Belle?” Pyrrha asked. 
“Lady Pyrrha,” Terri-Belle replied, bowing her head in acknowledgement. “I am glad to see that you have survived the recent struggle. All of Mistral rejoices that you live.”
“You flatter me so much, Lady Terri-Belle, that I must conclude it is deliberate,” Pyrrha murmured. “I doubt that my death would attract much notice.” 
After all, she was not much more than a performing seal to those who cheered her performances in the Coliseum. No matter what fate befell her, she would swiftly be forgotten and replaced by who or whatever came next to capture the public heart and imagination. 
“You humble yourself so much, Lady Pyrrha, that I would conclude that it were artifice, had I a more suspicious nature,” Lady Terri-Belle replied. “You are the Evenstar of Mistral; in you, the valour and skill of our kingdom of old stand reborn. You are the Princess Without a Crown, adored and celebrated in the city and in the lands beyond. In you are united skill, birth, grace, virtue – or at least the appearance of virtue – and, dare I say, beauty. If you were to fall, if your star were to be snuffed out… then so many hearts in Mistral would be broken in two that I fear it would bring the grimm upon us. For that reason alone, I am glad to see you alive. For that reason, I would see it stay that way.”
Pyrrha sucked in a sharp intake of breath. “You want me to come back to Mistral.”
“Your mother tells me that you will refuse me,” Terri-Belle said, with a touch of wryness entering her voice. 
“My mother does not always know me as well as she believes,” Pyrrha declared, “but in this, she is correct. I… I do not want to go.”
Terri-Belle was quiet for a moment. “What is the situation in Vale? I have watched the news, of course, but I would appreciate your view from on the ground.”
“The White Fang suffered heavy losses in their attempt to breach Vale’s defences,” Pyrrha said, although Terri-Belle doubtless already knew that; it had been trumpeted about quite loudly as a benefit – if it could be called that – of all this. “Their leader, Adam Taurus, is among the dead, and they have lost or used up all of the dust that was stolen from Vale, and the Atlesian military equipment that they had likewise seized.”
“Stolen Atlesian military equipment?” Terri-Belle said. “You are better informed than the news by far.”
Pyrrha cursed herself mentally. She hadn’t considered what was publicly known and what wasn’t; she had spoken without thinking, so stupid of her. Her throat felt very dry. “Um… I, uh-“
“We know people!” Jaune yelped, as he came to stand by her side. “That is to say that we, uh, we have friends amongst the Atlesians, they… they tell us things! I mean, um… I beg my lady’s pardon for the interruption.”
“Sensitive things?” Terri-Belle asked, her eyes narrowing. “It’s Jaune Arc, isn’t it?”
Jaune swallowed. “Yes. Yes, it is, my lady.”
Terri-Belle stared up at him. “You beg my pardon for the interruption.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“You should have said that before you said anything else,” Terri-Belle pointed out, not without some amusement in her voice. 
“My apologies, my lady,” Jaune said, “I meant no offence.”
“And ‘Lady Terri-Belle’ will do,” Terri-Belle added. “My lady would be my mother, if she yet lived.” She looked at Pyrrha. “Did you teach him all this?”
“No,” Pyrrha murmured evenly. “That was my team leader, without my knowledge.”
Terri-Belle snorted. “You sound less than enamoured with the notion, but you should appreciate it. If you bring him back to Mistral with you, whenever you return to Mistral, then you will be glad if his courtesies can pass muster.”
“I would prefer if people accepted that my romantic life is none of their business,” Pyrrha replied, her voice sharpening.
“And I would prefer a kingdom safe from bandits and grimm alike, but that doesn’t seem very likely either,” Terri-Belle declared. “So, you think the threat of the White Fang has passed?”
“Yes,” Pyrrha said, and sincerely too; while Cinder remained at large and might yet plot further mischief, her sword had shattered in her hand with the destruction of the White Fang; even if the survivors were inclined to listen to her still, their numbers were reduced beyond the capacity for serious harm. “But, just in case, General Ironwood is bringing in reinforcements from Atlas.”
“I see,” Terri-Belle said. “So you think the Vytal Festival is safe to proceed? You think it is appropriate to proceed under the circumstances?”
“I think…” Pyrrha trailed off for a moment. 'Appropriate'? How could she answer that? Why should her opinion on what was or was not appropriate matter any more than Jaune’s or anybody else’s?
Because I am the Princess Without a Crown. I am the Evenstar of Mistral. I am the Invincible Girl. How she hated it. Those names had always been a burden, but now, they seemed like mockery. Terri-Belle told her that Mistral looked to her, that hearts would be broken by her death, that she was the flowering of Mistral’s valour and skill, but what skill? Skill that could not defeat Cinder? Skill that could not save Vale? Skill that could not save herself from a single grimm but had to be saved by Ruby’s silver eyes? 
What a weak reed was she, on which to hang the hopes of a kingdom. 
And yet, hang they did. And so, that being the case, since she could not cast off such burdens, the only thing to do was become stronger to bear them better, but… but she could scarcely see how. It was not as though she could acquire power out of the air or unlock some secret power within her.
So, then, what could she do?
I can answer the question, at least. “I think… I think that Vale needs this festival, lest the year become nothing more than the grim events that have gone before. This city deserves a little entertainment, after so much hard work has been put into it and especially since these attacks.”
Terri-Belle’s face was expressionless. “And what of the political situation?”
“I’m afraid I couldn’t say,” Pyrrha murmured.
“Your Atlesian friends don’t tell you that,” Terri-Belle grunted.
“They don’t know any better than we do, Lady Terri-Belle,” Jaune said.
Terri-Belle ignored him. “Lady Pyrrha,” she said, “once before, I urged you to stay in Mistral. I offered to make you a huntress, to give you a place of honour in the Imperial Guard. Once more, I extend to you the same offer: come home, to Mistral, where your people need you. I will benefit from your strong arm at my side; Mistral will benefit from its beloved hero safely home where all can see you-”
“Are you asking me to come home and be a warrior, Lady Terri-Belle, or a prop?” Pyrrha asked. 
“I am sure that you are talented enough to play both roles, as necessary,” Terri-Belle replied without missing a beat. “I will not keep you from the battlefield, if that is what you fear, but you must understand that your name and fame alike will always mean that you have value beyond the number of grimm that you can slay.”
The value of an empty vessel, nothing but what others wish to see in me; I have no more value than that.
Pyrrha held her scroll in one hand. The other hung down by her side. She felt Jaune slip his hand into hers and squeeze her own hand gently. 
Pyrrha glanced at him. She had value to him, at least, and could not forget it, lest she drive him away. She looked back at Sunset, hovering uncertainly behind her, seeming to not want to interfere. Pyrrha had value to Sunset as well, and… and to Ruby, down in the hospital. 
“I cannot,” she said as she looked back down at her scroll.
“Cannot or will not?” Terri-Belle asked.
“Either, or both,” Pyrrha answered. “I have responsibilities here that I would not forsake, and I have friends here I would not do without.”
“I would beg you bring your friends to Mistral, where you might finish your studies at Haven, but it is by no means certain that the Haven students will return,” Terri-Belle conceded. “This is your last word? You will not put duty before your own desires?”
“I have other duties besides to Mistral,” Pyrrha declared, “and they demand me here.”
Terri-Belle was silent for a moment. “It seems your lady mother was correct. Very well then, Lady Pyrrha. If the Vytal Festival goes ahead, and if Haven students participate in it, then I shall probably cheer on my alma mater… but I wish you good fortune nevertheless.”
“Thank you, Lady Terri-Belle,” Pyrrha murmured. “That is very generous of you.”
Once again, the scroll showed her mother’s study as it was handed over. Terri-Belle’s voice emerged unseen. “Lady Nikos, I wish you good day. I will not detain you further.”
“Good day, Lady Terri-Belle,” Lady Nikos said. “One of the maids will show you out.”
“I am sure that I can find the way quite well, my lady,” Terri-Belle said before there was the sound of a door opening and shutting again.
Pyrrha found herself looking down upon her mother’s face. 
“Mother,” Pyrrha said softly. 
“Pyrrha,” Lady Nikos said. “I am… very glad to see you well,” she admitted. “When I saw… I am very glad to see you.”
Pyrrha found herself blinking very quickly. “Thank you, Mother; I… I am very glad to be here.” 
She did not want to die. Or perhaps it was better to say that she had not wanted to die. She had thought that, when death came, perhaps she could face it stoically, like the heroes of old, that she could accept death as the ending of a life well-lived, that she could content herself with having given her life in a worthy cause, perhaps inspiring others to take up the struggle in her place. 
But when the moment had come, when the grimm had her in its grip, its unbreakable grip, when it had been squeezing her, when Sunset had been powerless to help her, when it had seemed that there was nothing anyone could do to stop the grimm from shattering her aura and breaking her body, then… then all of that had fallen away. All the comforting illusions had seemed then like so many falsehoods and all that she could think about was how she did not want to die. She didn’t want Sunset to carry her circlet home to her mother, she didn’t want to be remembered as a hero of Mistral, she… she didn’t want to die. She wanted… she didn’t know what she wanted, but it was not death. Not yet. Not for so long yet. 
That was why Ruby had to wake up: so that Pyrrha could tell her how grateful she was. 
Lady Nikos nodded. “Mister Arc, I see that you, too, are well, and for my daughter’s sake, I suppose I should express my gratitude for that. Miss Shimmer, is she-?”
“She’s here, Mother,” Pyrrha said, turning to Sunset. 
Sunset stepped forward, her ears drooping down into the midst of her hair. There were dark lines beneath her eyes as she bowed her head. “My lady. I apologise that I did not contact you sooner; I have been… distracted, and remiss in my distractions.”
“So long as you have not been remiss in battle, Miss Shimmer, then I see nothing to complain of,” Lady Nikos said. “I am glad that you, too, have survived this… event.”
“We protected each other,” Pyrrha said.
“Indeed,” Lady Nikos replied. “And Miss Rose, what of her?”
Pyrrha winced. “Ruby is… Ruby was… injured,” she said.
Lady Nikos’ brow furrowed. “Badly?”
“We all hope not,” Pyrrha replied. “Although… she has not woken since.”
“I will pray for her,” Lady Nikos promised. She paused. “You were more involved in these events than you told Lady Terri-Belle, were you not?”
“Mother, I don’t know what you-”
“I am not a fool, Pyrrha,” Lady Nikos said sharply. “Perhaps you do have friends amongst the Atlesian forces, but I do not think they would spill secrets to you without a cause. And besides, you spoke to me, abruptly, as if you were concerned that… that you would not later have time to do so. And then a great battle is fought in Vale, and you are present for it. And not for the first time, either. What has Professor Ozpin involved you in?”
Pyrrha glanced at Sunset, and then at Jaune, hoping that one of them would devise a clever lie to extricate them all from this situation. 
“My lady, we shall not insult your intellect with denials,” Sunset declared, “but I fear we are not at liberty to say more. It is… a matter of honour.”
“I see,” Lady Nikos murmured. “Well then, if it is a matter of honour, then I shall not pry further, except to say that I dislike what I know, and dislike the idea that I may not know more even more.” She fell momentarily silent. “I understand what you said to Lady Terri-Belle. I agree that the threat from the White Fang and the grimm are less now than they were before. And yet, there is a part of me that would bring you all to Haven for the next three years, safely in Mistral, where the White Fang and the quiescent and Professor Ozpin are far away. You are my heir, Pyrrha, my sole heir and the last hope of my house; Miss Shimmer, I think that you are a girl of great promise, one of whom I have grown rather fond; Mister Arc, I am afraid that I cannot say that I am fond of you, but Pyrrha has found it in her heart to… to love you,” she said the words as though they stuck in her craw and had to be pried out, “and would grieve your passing or your injury. 
“In our culture, we prize bravery above caution, honour above care, the greatness that will linger in memory above life itself. For it is in passing that we achieve immortality; a noble death, they say, will elevate the memory above all others, however more long-lived they may be. But you are the last of your line, Pyrrha. If you die young, the House of Nikos will die with you, for I… I have given Mistral a red diamond of unsurpassed brilliance. I would not have it lightly thrown aside. I would not be left to linger out my last years in a house whose future has been stolen away. Miss Shimmer, Sunset Shimmer, I would not hear that all the potential I have seen in you has turned to ash. Mister Arc, I know what it is to lose love before the time for loss; I would not have Pyrrha know that pain as I did. 
“As a true Mistralian, and a lady of the House of Nikos, I should urge you all in the language of the Mistraliad ‘fight well and be superior to all others.’ But… but as a mother, I find myself urging you only to be one another’s shields, that you all may live another day.”