SAPR

by Scipio Smith

The Girl on the Cereal Box, Redux (New)

The Girl on the Cereal Box Redux

Pyrrha reached out and took Sky’s hand. “Thank you,” she said. “It’s a pleasure. A greater pleasure than I know how to express.”

Sky glanced at Jaune for a moment. “Okay,” she said softly. “We can talk about that later. For now…” She half turned away from Pyrrha and Jaune. Sky closed her eyes for a moment, bowing her head a little. Her blue eyes snapped open. “Okay, you two are the grimm experts; what did that thing do to the McKinleys?”

“Was the house like this when you got here?” asked Jaune.

“Pretty much,” Sky said. “I got here, found it mostly like this, and I was taking a look around when that thing jumped me. It bit me on the leg, dragged over there, must have been trying to use me as bait for anyone else who might come looking. Did it know that you were here?”

“Grimm become more intelligent as they get older,” Pyrrha explained. “It may not have known for certain that there were huntsmen in the village, but it might have wanted to be prepared in case there were.”

“They get smarter?” Sky repeated. “You’ve got your work cut out for you, don’t you?”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Jaune muttered.

Sky glanced at him. “You’re not filling me up with good vibes here, Jaune.”

“Sorry,” Jaune said. “I know it’s a lot to take in all at once. I was lucky to have this fed to me in chunks in class.”

“You paid attention in class?” asked Rouge.

“Yes!” Jaune squawked. “Mostly.”

“The point is,” Sky said, “what did it do with the McKinleys? Did it … did it drag them off to … do they have dens? Do they store … do they store food for later?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Pyrrha said.

“I don’t remember it in any of Professor Port’s lessons,” Jaune added.

“Then where are they?” Sky demanded.

“Hold on,” Rouge murmured, and she raised one hand to touch the orange geode that she wore around her neck. The magical stone began to glow, and Rouge’s blue eyes turned once more to that dark green.

“Rouge?” Sky asked.

Rouge held up one hand for quiet.

Nobody said anything else. They just watched her, eyes transformed in colour, geode glowing brighter and brighter, until she released the stone, and instantly, the colour was dimmed to nothing. Instantly too, her eyes changed back to their usual blue.

“They’re in the cellar!” Rouge cried. “They’re all safe; they hid there when the creature attacked.”

“How do you know that?” Sky demanded.

“I could hear their thoughts,” Rogue said. “They’re frightened, but alive.”

Sky’s eyebrows rose. “Those things give you telepathy as well?”

“To an extent,” Rouge replied. “Trust me; they’re there.”

“I’m believing every other impossible thing tonight; what’s one more?” Sky muttered. “Okay, Rouge, go home. Jaune, Pyrrha, can you help me get them out?”

“I don’t see a cellar,” Pyrrha murmured.

“The door must be buried under some of this rubble; that’s why I need your help,” Sky said. “Rouge, go home, go to bed— wait a second, is this the reason you sleep alone, so that you can sneak out and go fight monsters?”

“I wish,” Rouge said. A sigh escaped her. “I’d rather not talk about it right now.”

“Fair; we’ve got stuff to do anyway,” Sky said. “Go. We’ll … go.”

Rouge nodded. “Good luck,” she said. “Remember, they’re all waiting for you.” She turned away and began to walk briskly — it was not quite a run, but it might have been if she had moved any faster — away from the McKinley farm, back in the direction of the rest of Alba Longa and the Arc house.

“Watch out for River!” Jaune called out to her as she retreated. “She’s waiting up for us.”

“I know,” Rouge called, turning back to them. “I’ve gotten past her once already.”

She turned away and resumed her swift progress away from here.

“I … my oldest sister has magic,” Jaune murmured. “My oldest sister has magic.”

“I suppose that must be quite surprising,” Pyrrha said, aware that it was a wholly inadequate response, but at the same time unable to think of what else to say in the face of the situation.

“Yeah,” Jaune said. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“You two!” Sky shouted. “Come on, I need some help here.” She paused for a moment. “Are you going to be enough, or do I need to wake up half the village and get a chain going?”

“We’ll be fine,” Pyrrha assured her. “Aura doesn’t just protect you from injuries or heal the wounds you already have; it also enhances your strength, speed, and stamina too.”

Sky blinked. “Well, that explains … huh. Yeah, you know, I can feel that, I think. Does that mean that you could have beaten Ruben up anytime you wanted to?”

“Maybe,” Jaune admitted. “But what would have been the point?”

“Why would you want to beat up your brother-in-law?” Pyrrha asked anxiously.

“Focus, Pyrrha,” Sky said, as though she hadn’t brought the subject up. She led them into the ruins of the McKinley house. “Now, um … I didn’t have cause to come in here too often, but they invited me in for a drink once or twice, and the cellar was…” She turned this way and that, pointing at nothing in particular, seeming to be looking for something that would jog her memory. “It was…” She began to walk through the ruins, pacing down the remains of the long house, peering at the piles of rubble. “It was there! Right there, near the kitchen!”

“Are you sure?” Jaune asked.

“Pretty sure,” Sky said, bending down near a pile of shattered brick and stone that had piled up near somewhere that might, Pyrrha supposed, have been a kitchen, although it was nigh impossible to tell at the moment.

“Help me,” Sky said, lifting a rock from the top of the pile and casting it aside. “Come on.”

“Wait,” Pyrrha urged, holding out one hand and letting out her semblance.

Her hand, and the sleeve of her olive-coloured pyjamas, were encased in the black outline of her semblance as she looked for traces of metal in the masonry, any bars or the remains of pipes, anything that she could use. She found them, metal, not in great quantities, but enough for her to use. She exerted herself, gripping those small fragments of metal, feeling her aura dropping a little as the masonry blocks became surrounded by the black outline of her semblance.

“Do you need a boost?” Jaune asked.

“No, thank you; I’ll be fine,” Pyrrha said. Her aura had taken a hit from the boarbatusk rolling on top of her, and she might have been concerned if there had been more grimm at large, but for this, what she had was adequate.

It was more than adequate to pick up all of the rubble that was blocking access to the cellar and safely deposit it on the other side of the ruin, revealing the cellar door itself, now covered by only a light dusting of stone chips and fragments.

“Okay, you’ve got a superpower on top of everything else?” Sky demanded. “And what was that light show that you did earlier, Jaune?”

“Our semblances,” Jaune explained. “Everyone has one; you just have to find it.”

“Does Dad have one of those?”

“And you’ll have one too, now that I’ve activated your aura,” Jaune said.

“This is going to make my head hurt,” Sky muttered.

She reached down and wrenched open the cellar doors, shining her flashlight down into the darkness below.

“Mister McKinley?” she called out. “Are you guys down there? This is Sheriff Arc; you can come out now, it's all clear.”

There was a silence from the darkness, before an older, slightly hoarse voice replied, “Sheriff? But … but what about that infernal beast?”

“It’s alright now,” Sky assured him. “My…” She glanced at Pyrrha. “My brother’s girlfriend killed it.”

“Who?”

“I know, I was surprised as well,” Sky replied. “But it really is dead, so you can come on out.”

She stepped back from the cellar. Pyrrha could hear footsteps from down below, and after a few moments, the McKinley family emerged from out of the depths: a wiry, late middle-aged man with hair turning grey and stubble on his sunken cheeks; an older woman with blonde hair fading in places; a woman a few years older than Jaune or Pyrrha, her hair also blonde but longer too; a man of about the same age with short black hair and a firm jawline, and two young boys.

“Is it really gone?” asked the smaller of the two boys.

Sky nodded. “It’s really gone. You don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

“It came out of nowhere,” Mister McKinley said. “One minute, we were sitting down to dinner, and the next thing we knew, this thing just broke through the wall. We were damn lucky to be able to get into the cellar before it got any of us.”

“What was that thing?” asked the older woman. “How did it get here?”

“That … that was what they call a grimm, I understand,” Sky said. “They’re a big problem for some other folks in other places, but we’re pretty lucky not to be bothered by them … much. But it’s okay now; it’s dead, and I … I’m told that there won’t be any more showing up.”

“Told by who?” Mister McKinley demanded.

“By my brother, who is becoming something of an expert in these things,” Sky said.

“Jaune?” the younger man asked, looking over at Jaune and Pyrrha. “Jaune, is that you?”

Jaune raised one hand tentatively. “Hey.”

“And that … this is your girlfriend, Jaune?” the younger woman asked. “This is the one who killed that thing?”

“Hello,” Pyrrha said, waving one hand of her own. “Pyrrha Nikos, at your service.”

“Well, first of all, thank you so much,” the younger woman said, in a voice that was sweet but which drew out her vowel sounds a little too young. “Thank you, I don’t know what I can ever do to repay you—”

“That’s not necessary,” Pyrrha assured.

“But second of all, what is someone like you doing with Jaune Arc?”

Pyrrha blinked. “If you really do want to repay me,” she said, feeling slightly guilty as she said it, considering that she was taking credit for Rouge’s power, “then you could not ask me that question again.”

“What are we going to do now?” asked the other of the two boys.

“Why don’t you all come down to the Kent place down the road?” Sky suggested. “I know that they’ve had a lot of space to themselves since Clark moved out. I’m sure they’ll be happy to put you up for at least the night, or until you figure out what to do next. And I’m certain, in the morning, that everyone will want to help you get back on your feet.”

“That … that sounds like a good idea,” Mister McKinley. “Thank you, Sheriff. Thank you kindly, Miss Nikos. And you too, young Jaune.”

Sky led the way, with Jaune and Pyrrha following behind, shepherding the family — not that they needed it; the young couple kept their children well in hand — away from the ruins of their home and closer to the village itself. They reached another house, another farmhouse, surrounded by fields of tall wheat and accessible only through a single dirt road running through the fields. The house was smaller than the McKinley house had seemed, and Pyrrha did wonder if it would be big enough to take the family.

But of course, Sky knew the village much better than she did, and she thought this was a good idea.

The Kent house looked like a cosy place, with a soft, inviting orange light emerging out of the windows and smoke wafting out of the chimney, just about visible under the moonlight. The house was made of grey stone, irregular but sturdy, with a thatched roof and a wooden door painted red.

Sky knocked upon that red door as she reached it. “Mister Kent!” she called. “It’s Sheriff Arc!”

The door opened a few moments later, revealing an elderly couple, both with wrinkled faces and spectacles sitting upon their noses, with grey hair and slightly stooped backs.

“Sheriff?” Mister Kent said. “And Griswold? And you brought the whole family with you? It’s a little late to come visiting, don’t you think?”

“I’m afraid this isn’t a visit, sir,” Sky said. “The McKinleys … their home…”

“We’ve got no place else to go,” one of the younger McKinleys said, “but Sheriff Arc said we could come and stay with you.”

“Well … yeah, that,” Sky said. “Their house was destroyed; there’s nothing left. I was hoping you could put a roof over their heads for the night.”

“Of course, we wouldn’t dream of turning you away,” said the woman, Mrs. Kent. “But destroyed? What on earth happened?”

“A monster,” said one of the younger McKinleys.

“A grimm,” Sky said. “It’s nothing to worry about—”

“A grimm destroying a whole house sure sounds like something to worry about!” Mister Kent declared.

“It’s dead now,” Sky said. “Jaune and Pyrrha killed it.”

“Jaune?” Mister Kent said, squinting from behind his spectacles. “Young Jaune, is that you?”

“Hey, Mister Kent,” Jaune called to him.

Mister Kent shook his head. “Grimm in Alba Longa, well I’ll be … w-what if more of them come here? What if—”

“Jonathan,” Mister McKinley cut across his words, “we can worry about the monsters all we like in the morning. Right now, my family has been sitting in a cellar for hours; we’re cold; may we please come inside?”

“Of course, dear, of course; come in, everyone,” Mrs. Kent said, stepping aside for them. “I’ll put some hot water on for everyone. Make yourselves at home.”

“Bless you, Martha,” Mister McKinley said. “In you go, kids, and don’t forget to say thank you.” He turned to Jaune and Pyrrha. “And thank you, both of you.”

As his family went inside, disappearing into the grey stone farmhouse, Mister McKinley lingered, his eyes still fixed on Jaune.

“I … I’ve gotta admit, I never thought you were much of a man, Jaune,” he said, “but I hope I’m man enough to admit I was wrong.”

Jaune’s back straightened a little; he drew his shoulders back. “Thank you, sir,” he said.

Mister McKinley nodded. “Miss Nikos,” he said gruffly, then turned away and followed the rest of his family inside.

“Sheriff,” Mister Kent said. “Jaune.”

“Goodnight, Mister Kent,” Sky said. “And my regards to your wife.”

“I’ll be sure to pass them on,” he said. “Goodnight.” He closed the door.

Sky sighed, running one hand through her short blonde hair. “How are people going to take it when the news spreads?”

Pyrrha didn’t answer, unsure if the question was rhetorical or not.

“I can’t really tell everyone not to worry because Rouge gets ‘em ninety-nine percent of the time,” Sky went on. “Rouge doesn’t want me to tell them anything about her. So how…?” She shook her head. “I’ll think about that tomorrow, after a few hours' sleep. Come on, you two; let’s get going.”

Sky led the way again, and again, Pyrrha and Jaune hung back just a little bit, letting her go on ahead, while they trailed behind.

“That was quite something you did with your aura,” Pyrrha observed quietly. “I didn’t teach you that.”

“No,” Jaune agreed. “That’s okay, isn’t it?”

Pyrrha let out a little chuckle. “Jaune, of course, it’s okay. Developing your own techniques, working out how you can perform at your best, that’s all part of being a huntsman. It shows how much you’re coming into your own. What was it that you did, were you boosting your own aura?”

“Pretty much,” Jaune agreed. “I first thought about it from thinking about Rainbow Dash. You know where she does that thing with the punch, or when she took Adam’s sword on her arm?”

Pyrrha nodded. “She concentrated her aura in one place to absorb the impact, and she released her aura explosively as an offensive weapon.”

Those were not skills that she had ever been trained in, either offensively or defensively, but they were not unfamiliar to Pyrrha; Arslan had been known to use her aura to attack from time to time as well, and it was probably not a coincidence that she, like Rainbow Dash, fought without melee weapons. As an offence, it could certainly bring battles to a close quickly, provided that the blow landed, but it was also … lacking in subtlety and, so, anathema to Pyrrha’s style of fighting.

As for defence, again, Pyrrha had been taught to avoid being hit rather than to absorb blows, but that did not make it an invalid technique, especially for someone like Jaune who was less nimble on his feet than some of his peers and thus might find ‘don’t get hit’ to be a less useful approach than it was for Pyrrha.

And it certainly had proved a useful tactic against the boarbatusk.

“And I thought that … I don’t have the control over my aura to do that yet,” Jaune said, “but what if I could use my semblance to accomplish the same thing, you know? Boost a part of my own aura, as if I were concentrating it in one place?”

“That’s very clever,” Pyrrha replied. “Although you will burn aura that way, possibly quite fast, since you’re expending aura in a way that you wouldn’t be if you were only concentrating it. So be careful, and if you use that technique in a prolonged battle, make sure you keep track of your aura level, especially if you’re being asked to boost other people at the same time.”

“I will,” Jaune agreed. “But it worked, didn’t it? It worked even better than I thought it would; I certainly didn’t expect to send that boarbatusk flying the way I did. It was … that was pretty cool, don’t you think?”

Pyrrha smiled. “It was very cool,” she said, reaching out to slip her hand into his, intertwining their fingers together.

Jaune glanced down at their hands, then looked back up into her eyes and returned her smile with one of his own, lighting up his eyes.

And so, hand in hand, they followed Sky back to Jaune’s home.

River and Kendal were waiting for them in the hallway, and so was Chester, with one arm around River as they waited. Kendal paced up and down behind them, only to stop as Sky opened the door and stepped through.

“There you are!” River cried. “And you’re okay, so what took you so long?”

“And what happened to your pants?” asked Chester.

“I got bitten by a monster pig,” Sky said.

“Monster pig?” Kendal repeated, turning to face her. “You mean a grimm? A boarbatusk?”

“You know what that is?” Sky asked. “Right, of course you know.”

“There was a grimm?” River demanded. “Here, in Alba Longa?”

“It’s dead now,” Sky explained. “Pyrrha and Jaune took care of it. And Jaune healed my leg besides; you’d never imagine that monster had chewed down on it, would you?”

“No, I wouldn’t,” River murmured. “You can do that? You can just heal injuries?”

“What I do is boost people’s aura,” Jaune explained, “and then their aura heals their injuries.”

“That still sounds pretty awesome; when did you learn how to do that?” River asked.

“They taught you all kinds of neat stuff at that school, sounds like,” said Chester.

“It’s my semblance,” Jaune said.

“Semblance of what?” asked River.

“I don’t really know why it’s called that,” Jaune admitted. “Maybe we can save the technical questions for later, like tomorrow?”

“Right, sure, that’s … sure,” River murmured. She paused for a moment. “You’re sure it was a grimm?”

“They get everywhere,” Kendal said. “More importantly, are you sure there was just the one of them?”

“There was no sign of any others,” Pyrrha informed her.

Kendal nodded, then glared at Sky, “Now do you believe me? This place was never safe; it was only lucky.”

“There’s no need to say I told you so,” Sky snapped. “Especially since you weren’t even right.”

“The ‘monster pig’ says I was more right than you by a long way,” Kendal replied, “and it also says that you owe Pyrrha an apology.”

“I’ve already apologised!”

Kendal glanced at Pyrrha. “Has she apologised? If she hasn’t, then there’s no need to pretend that she has just to spare her blushes.”

“Sky has very graciously apologised,” Pyrrha said, “and we’ve agreed to start over.”

Kendal snorted. “You’ve got a very kind-hearted girlfriend, Jaune.”

Jaune beamed, and his expression was so contented, and so pleased, that it made Pyrrha’s heart flutter a little more swiftly in turn.

“Trust me,” he said, “I don’t need anyone to tell me that.”

“You two are going to send me to the dentists,” Sky muttered. “You know they were holding hands on the way back from the McKinley place?”

“Are the McKinleys—?”

“Okay,” Sky said. “They hid in the cellar when the grimm attacked. Their place got wrecked, but they’re staying with the Kents tonight.”

“We need to think about what to do in case more grimm show up,” Kendal said. “We can’t rely on Jaune and Pyrrha being here next time.”

Sky said, “There’s no need to overreact—”

“It’s not overreacting!” Kendal yelled. “We’ve been underreacting this entire time, and now, it’s time to react! Those things are out there, and they’re dangerous—”

“I know that they’re dangerous; one of them almost killed me!” snapped Sky. “But we aren’t going to help if we—”

A light went on in the dining room; they could see the light slipping into the hallway, even though they couldn’t see into the room itself.

“Sky? Kendal?” Mister Arc said. “Your mother and I can hear you yelling from upstairs, what are you two doing?”

“Is everything okay?” asked Mrs. Arc.

“Great,” Sky muttered. “Now you woke up Mom and Dad.”

“I’m not the one who—”

“You are too the one who started shouting!”

“Do you two mind?” River demanded.

Sky and Kendal looked away from one another, glancing down at the ground.

Without prompting, they all moved down the hallway, out into the dining room beyond.

It was not only the Arc parents who waited for them there, but Saphron too, and Ruben, and Rouge, standing near the back of the room where no one else could see her.

“Jaune?” Mister Arc said, as they emerged into view. “Pyrrha? What’s going on? Why are you all out of bed? Jaune, why do you have your armour on?”

“I noticed that Sky hadn’t come back from the McKinley place yet,” River explained. “I got nervous, and I asked Pyrrha to go out there and check it out. Jaune went with her.”

“Why?” Ruben asked. “Did you think you were gonna find a monster up there or something?”

“They did,” Sky muttered.

Ruben paled visibly, and Pyrrha could not say that she was sad to see it. “Wh-what are you saying?”

“There was a grimm up there,” Jaune said. “It had trashed the McKinley place, injured Sky; it attacked us before Pyrrha managed to kill it.”

“We both defeated it together,” Pyrrha said.

“Oh, God,” Mrs. Arc said. “Sky, honey, where are you hurt? Should you even be up? Why aren’t you with Doctor—?”

“I’m fine now, Mom,” Sky said, raising one hand. “Jaune unlocked my aura and then used his semblance to…” She looked at Jaune. “What is it that you did again?”

“I boosted your aura so that it healed your injuries,” Jaune said.

“Right,” Sky agreed. “Jaune did … that.”

“And the McKinleys?” asked Rouge from the back of the room.

“They’re okay; they hid in the cellar,” Sky said. “The Kents have taken them in, since their home is … gone.”

“A grimm,” Mister Arc said, his face pained.

He walked over to the dining table, now cleared of all plates and cutlery, without even a tablecloth laid out upon it, and pulled out a chair. He sat down heavily upon it, resting one arm upon the wooden table.

“A grimm, here? Here?” He shook his head. “I thought I’d left all that behind.”

Jaune took a step forward. “It was only one grimm, Dad.”

Mister Arc looked at him. “Listen to him, hasn’t even finished his first year at Beacon yet, and already, he’s talking like an expert.”

“Grimm don’t always move in packs,” Jaune pointed out. “Especially not boarbatusks, which this was.” He looked back at Pyrrha. “That’s right, isn’t it?”

Pyrrha nodded. “Boarbatusks are usually solitary creatures, when not part of a horde.”

Beowolves would almost always hunt in packs; ursai might form groups under the leadership of an ursa major, or they might form groups of no more than three without a leader, or they might move individually; boarbatusks were mostly solitary creatures; the behaviour of the grimm was as varied as the types of grimm themselves.

“And it’s not a horde, is it?” Saphron asked. “I mean, if it were, we’d know about it by now.”

“The boarbatusk that attacked was very large, very strong, and more intelligent than usual,” Pyrrha said. “Not the sort of grimm that would form the first wave if a horde were coming down on Alba Longa.”

“That doesn’t mean that we can be complacent,” Kendal declared. “We’ve been too complacent for too long already! More grimm might show up any day now; they might show up tonight!”

“Kendal, that’s really unlikely,” Jaune said.

“We can’t afford to sit around and do nothing any more,” Kendal insisted. “We need to—”

“To do what?” Sky demanded. “What is it that we’re supposed to do?”

“That’s enough,” Mister Arc said. “I’m not going to let you turn this into another squabble.” He got up. “Sky, are you sure that you’re alright? You don’t have any injuries?”

“No, thanks to Jaune,” Sky said. “You guys all heard the pause there, right? It wasn’t ‘no thanks to Jaune’ it was ‘no, comma, thanks to Jaune,’ because—”

“We got it, Sky, don’t worry,” Saphron assured her.

“That’s good to hear,” Mister Arc said. “And, that being the case, I think that now might be a good time for you to apologise to Kendal for what happened this evening?”

Sky deflated a little. “Come on, Dad, I almost died.”

“But you didn’t,” Mister Arc said, “and you just said you were fine.”

Sky let out a wordless groan, followed by a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” she said, through gritted teeth.

Kendal’s eyes narrowed. “What are you sorry for?”

“I’m sorry that I upset you at dinner tonight,” Sky said.

Kendal folded her arms.

Sky scowled. “I’m sorry that you turned out to be right, this place isn’t as safe as I thought, and what Jaune does is … actually pretty … necessary. And Pyrrha is pretty cool too. There, are you happy now, or is there anything else?”

“With that kind of attitude, I’m not sure that I should accept your apology.”

“Oh, come on, I’m trying my best here!” Sky cried. “Pyrrha accepted my apology.”

Kendal rolled her eyes. “Okay then, I forgive you. Apology accepted.”

Mister Arc nodded approvingly. He looked at Pyrrha. “Pyrrha,” he said, “apparently, Sky has already apologised, but she might not be the only one who owes one to you. On behalf of my family, I say sorry for any unkindness that you might have received, and which you didn’t deserve; thank you for coming to our home, and if I’m right, thanks are in order for taking my son under your wing as well.”

Pyrrha smiled. “I’d say that you were welcome, but the truth is, there aren’t any thanks necessary. I was thrilled and honoured when Jaune asked me to come here with him, and Jaune deserves all the credit for how far he’s come this year.”

“That’s not true at all,” Jaune said.

“Are you two going to be like this the whole time?” Sky asked.

“I hope so; it’s great,” River said.

“What are we going to do about the grimm?” Kendal demanded.

“If Jaune and his pretty girlfriend could take on one of those things, there’s no reason why we can’t!” Ruben cried. “We’ll arm ourselves—”

“That’s not a good idea,” Pyrrha said. “The grimm are not to be trifled with without proper training—”

“Anything that Jaune can do,” Ruben said, loading Jaune’s name with a sneer, “any real man in this town can do better.”

“Oh, give it a rest, Ruben,” Rouge snapped. “Even if that were true, and it never was, it clearly isn’t true anymore.”

Everyone looked at her.

“Rouge,” Ruben said. “What are you—?”

“Don’t do something stupid just because you can’t look down on Jaune as completely as you used to,” Rouge said.

Ruben stared at her for a moment. Then, wordlessly, he stomped out of the dining room. Pyrrha could hear his footsteps thumping on the staircase.

“Jaune,” Rouge said, with a sigh in her voice. “I’m sorry, I … I should have done more to stop him from picking on you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jaune said.

“Yeah, it does,” Rouge replied. “But thank you anyway.”

“Pyrrha’s right,” Mister Arc said. “If hunting grimm were something that anyone could do, then nobody would need to go to places like Beacon to be trained as huntsmen.”

“But even if we hire a huntsman,” Kendal said. “One huntsman, on their own … one huntsman can’t protect people who don’t know how to protect themselves. At least, there’s only one way that they can do that, and I … I don’t want anyone … I don’t want them to die for me.”

Pyrrha drew closer to her, placing one hand upon Kendal’s shoulder. “Not all huntsmen work alone,” she said. “Some continue to work in teams, even after graduation, so that they can protect one another; others work in pairs, even if not in fours; and a graduated huntsman could advise you on what defences to set up, if any, and what else to do. I do believe that bringing in a professional is your best course of action.”

She wasn’t sure, admittedly, what Rouge would make of that, but since she couldn’t divulge the existence of Rouge’s magic, then she had to give the advice that she would have given to any other community. If she had suggested doing nothing, as Sky seemed to be doing, then it would have seemed inexplicably strange.

“I’ll speak to the mayor about it in the morning,” Sky said.

“That’s a good idea,” Mister Arc said. “But, since it isn’t morning yet, I think that we should all go back to bed, try to get a little more rest, and don’t panic, okay? It never makes anything better, and especially not this.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Saphron said. “Hopefully Terra’s managed to get Adrian back to sleep.”

“Did we wake him?” Kendal asked.

“You woke everyone.”

Sky winced. “Sorry.”

“It is what it is,” Saphron said. “Goodnight, everyone.”

“Goodnight, Saphron!'' everyone chorused.

Everyone bid one another goodnight, not usually using names, just tossing out the word as applicable to everyone, as they made their way towards the stairs. Pyrrha was the last one up, walking side by side with Jaune at the rear of the slow-moving herd of Arcs.

They climbed the stairs and walked down the corridor, stopping in front of Kendal’s room.

The doorway was open, and Kendal was already lying down upon the camp bed.

Pyrrha stopped, and Jaune stopped also, turning to face her and reaching out to take her hands in his.

“You know,” he said softly. “I … I didn’t get to give you a kiss goodnight before.”

“No,” Pyrrha agreed, her voice slipping a little into coyness, even as a smile pricked at her lips. “No, you didn’t.”

Jaune hesitated for a moment, standing there, a smile on his face, a light in his eyes, then he leaned forwards and kissed her.

It was a brief kiss, a gentle kiss, a mere brush of his lips against hers, but it was enough.

It was a kiss goodnight. A kiss goodnight from her boyfriend. A kiss goodnight from her boyfriend at the door.

It was more than enough. It was wonderful.

“Goodnight,” he said softly.

“Goodnight,” Pyrrha whispered.

She half stepped into Kendal’s room, but watched him as he turned away.

Pyrrha put her hands upon the doorframe and let out a sigh.

She heard a snort from behind her.

Pyrrha turned around, closing the door, to see Kendal, lying on the camp bed, watching her out of one open eye.

“I … I suppose you must think I’m a very foolish girl,” Pyrrha murmured.

“I would never be so judgemental,” Kendal declared. “Are you happy?”

“I’m very happy,” Pyrrha said, putting Miló and Akoúo̱ back in her case before sitting down on the bed.

“And is Jaune happy?”

“I hope so,” Pyrrha said as she started to take off her boots. “I hope so very much.”

“Then who cares what I think?” Kendal asked. She rolled over, presenting her back to Pyrrha. “Sleep tight.”

---

The next morning, Pyrrha got out of the borrowed bed and started to pull on her boots.

Kendal opened her eyes. “Going somewhere in your PJs?” she asked.

“I thought I might go for a quick run before getting a shower,” Pyrrha murmured. “If you have a shower, that is.”

“Yeah, there’s a shower,” Kendal assured her. “But a run sounds like a good idea. I’ll join you, if you don’t mind the company?”

“Not at all,” Pyrrha replied, and she waited for Kendal to pull on a pair of white trainers and lead the way out of the room, moving quietly down the corridor.

Sky stepped out of her bedroom door — like Kendal’s door, it was marked by a childish sign that looked like it had been there since she was a little girl — to bar their way.

“Where are you two off to?” she asked.

“Just for a jog,” Kendal replied.

Sky glanced from Kendal to Pyrrha. “Is it okay if I come with you?” she asked.

“Um, no, that would be fine,” Pyrrha said.

She could hardly refuse, after all, having agreed with Sky that they could have a fresh start. She did not wish to refuse; she wanted the fresh start with Sky, she wanted the good opinion of Jaune’s sisters, his family. She wanted them to think that Jaune’s heart was in good hands with her.

Safe hands, at least.

“I mean,” she added, “it’s fine by me.”

“And me,” Kendal said, although she sounded a little weary about the whole thing. “Come on, get your shoes on.”

Sky disappeared back into her bedroom and reappeared just a little while later wearing a pair of black boots, but also with a pair of dark blue shorts and a white t-shirt thrown on in place of her sky blue pyjamas.

The three of them descended the stairs, Kendal leading, then Pyrrha, then Sky bringing up the rear. The dining room was deserted, with no sign or sound that anyone in the Arc house was awake apart from the three of them.

If Kendal and Sky hadn’t volunteered to go with her, then Pyrrha would have asked Jaune if he wanted to join her, but she wondered now if there was something the two sisters wished to discuss with her — something about Jaune, perhaps. And besides, if he couldn’t sleep in a little at his own childhood home, then where could he?

And so, the three of them stole out of the house, much as Pyrrha and Jaune had stolen out of the house the night before, although they set off in the opposite direction as Kendal led the way not towards the ruined McKinley house, but southwards, towards the other end of the village.

Alba Longa was quiet; evidently, the Arc family — most of them at least — were not the only ones who had yet to wake from slumber and greet the morn. The houses were quiet, the doors were closed, the shops had ‘closed’ signs up in their windows, those that had shutters over the windows had them down; there was no one out and about. There were a few animals woken up — the goats were back at it, disturbing the gardens and ruining the flower beds; there were a few birds already beginning to sing in the trees — but for the most part, Alba Longa was quiet.

Alba Longa was quiet, and so, the world seemed quiet as Pyrrha, Kendal, and Sky ran through the sleeping village, passing the quaint shops and the wooden houses, passing close by the shore of the silver lake that was starting to glimmer in the red light of the dawn, heading up towards the railway station, where the tracks were quiet and there was no sign of a train.

Kendal ran as though she were holding herself back, as though there was an instinct in her to sprint as fast as she could which she was actively resisting. From what she had told Pyrrha, such an instinct made perfect sense. Sky, on the other hand, was only jogging, not taxing herself too much, keeping a steady pace but not a taxing one. This was definitely light exercise for her, nothing too heavy.

Pyrrha found herself in between the two of them; she could have gone faster, but did not because it would have been bad form to have raced off and left Sky in the dust, but at the same time, she felt no desire to run with everything she had and tire herself. Even if she was getting a shower later, there was no point in working up too much of a sweat. Apart from anything else, she only had the one pair of pyjamas with her, and it would be a fine thing if they started to stink.

Besides, a more sedate pace allowed her once again to marvel at the quiet beauty of Alba Longa; no wonder the people had been caught so by surprise by a sudden grimm incursion; in the light of the morning, it seemed incredible that the events of the night had happened at all. Surely, it had all been some shared hallucination, a dream experienced by many people all at once.

Would that it were the case.

At the railway station — deserted and empty, of course — they turned back, passing near to the tree where Jaune and Pyrrha had sat for a while before making the final journey to his home and coming to a stop beneath the equestrian statue in the centre of the town, of the warrior with the sword that looked so like Crocea Mors.

“Your ancestor, I take it?” Pyrrha asked as she looked up at the statue. There was no plaque on the plinth, no name, but clearly, the statue was of someone’s ancestor, and the sword was very suggestive.

Sky nodded. “Bohemund Arc,” she said. “He founded this town, one hundred and twenty … three years ago.”

“'One hundred and twenty-three'?” Pyrrha repeated. “That’s quite specific.”

“Sky isn’t just the sheriff,” Kendal explained. “She’s also the town historian.”

“Don’t say that; you make me sound like a nerd,” Sky said sharply.

Kendal shrugged. “If it walks like a duck.”

“This is our family story,” Sky declared. “We should know it, take pride in it, not let it be forgotten.”

Pyrrha thought about her mother and her desire — self-serving and rooted in sheer snobbery though it was — to find out more about Jaune’s heritage, to which end Sunset would be arriving in Alba Longa at some point to research it. “Where did he come from, before he founded Alba Longa?”

Sky scratched the back of her head. “I don’t actually know,” she admitted. “And as far as I know, nobody does. The town records only go back as far as the town itself, or at least, I think they do. I find this stuff interesting, but I don’t have all day to spend sifting through all the records, so … it’s not like I know everything about the history of Alba Longa; I do have a job to do after all. The only thing I can really tell you is that Crocea Mors is older than the town is. Or it was older, before it broke.”

“It can be forged anew,” Pyrrha said gently.

“But will it be the same sword afterwards?” Sky replied.

“What matters,” Pyrrha said, “is not the sword but what is done with the sword: what cause it fights for, who it defends.”

Sky was silent for a moment, before she said, “I guess I can’t really argue with that.” She paused for a moment. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” Pyrrha said softly.

“Why are you called huntsmen and huntresses?” Sky inquired. “Why aren’t you just called ‘hunters’?”

“That’s your question?” Kendal demanded.

“It’s a legitimate question,” Sky replied.

“It doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“No, but since Pyrrha’s here, she might as well answer it if she can.”

“Why don’t you just ask Dad?”

“What’s wrong with me asking Pyrrha?”

“I’m afraid that you might have to ask the Last King of Vale for a true answer as to what he was thinking when he founded the Academies and set up the system of huntsmen and huntresses,” Pyrrha said, “but, speaking for myself, I think that the answer must lie in the old stories, the fairy tales of Vale that speak of heroes battling against monsters.”

It was interesting to reflect on what huntsmen and huntresses might have been called if one of the other kingdoms had taken the lead in establishing the academy system. If Mistral had founded the four schools, would their graduates be called charioteers? Shepherds of the People? Simply heroes, nothing more or less?

“Those heroes,” she went on to the two sisters, “are referred to as huntsmen and huntresses, I believe, just as I believe — if only because it is the most appealing explanation — that the Last King wished to recapture some of that flavour, that ancient glamour from long ago. Hunter is a simpler name, to be sure, but … it is very prosaic; it stirs no trumpet in the soul. What we do … we battle against creatures utterly without soul, creatures of pure malice; they are the darkness, and we are the light, or at least, we are light’s guardians. That deserves, or at least it can support, a name out of storybook fable, don’t you think?”

Kendal snorted. “You’re a romantic through and through, aren’t you?”

Pyrrha let out a slight laugh. “I hope you don’t mind if I take that as a compliment,” she said.

Kendal grinned. “Jaune … has a touch of that himself, I think. He couldn’t have said all that so eloquently as you, of course, but … I think he feels it.”

“He’s very romantic,” Pyrrha assured her.

Sky rolled her eyes. “Why do you want to do this?” she asked.

“Do what?” replied Pyrrha, requesting clarification.

“Hunting things, fighting monsters,” Sky explained. “Risking your life?”

“Sky—” Kendal began.

Sky held up one hand. “I’m not going to criticise, I’m not going to judge,” she insisted. “It’s just … we all know that Jaune had no idea what he was doing when he ran off to that school, right? Like it or not, we can both agree that he didn’t make a considered, rational decision with all the facts at his disposal, right?”

Kendal was quiet for a moment. “Okay, yes, you’ve got a point.”

“So,” Sky said, “I would like to hear from someone who walked into this with their eyes open, knowing all the facts, as to why they did it. If that’s okay with you?”

“I…” Pyrrha hesitated for a moment, looking from one Arc sister to the other. She looked upwards, away from both of them, up at the statue of Jaune’s ancestor upon his noble steed, sword raised up to the sky.

She clasped her hands together before her. “I…” she began again, and trailed off once more just as she had done before.

“Don’t tell me that you don’t know,” Sky muttered.

“I am … not certain anymore,” Pyrrha murmured.

She felt Kendal’s hand upon her shoulder. “Not anymore?” Kendal repeated. “Has something changed?”

Jaune, Pyrrha thought, though she almost feared to admit it so baldly. If they thought her romantic now, then what would they think if they found out that her feelings for Jaune threatened to undo her courage? She and Kendal had spoken last night of whether or not she would rather that Jaune did not fight and risk his life, but Kendal had not asked — perhaps she had not thought it needed asking — whether or not Pyrrha would rather not fight herself.

It would not have been a question, not too long ago. But now … was it weak, or dishonourable, that knowing all she did of the threat that confronted the world nevertheless, that her unbounded affection for Jaune Arc should struggle in fierce contest with her sense of duty?

Summer Rose had died young; Pyrrha had reminded Sunset of as much before she and Jaune set out for Alba Longa. Summer Rose had died young, and so might Pyrrha Nikos, so might Jaune Arc, and so she wished to live and love in the days that she possessed, to demonstrate her love for and commitment to him. So she had said, and so she had felt. So she still felt. It was no ignoble struggle in which they were engaged, and to fall in it would likewise be no ignoble sacrifice.

As it is, ten thousand fates of death surround us which no man may escape or avoid. That being so, let us go, and either fall yielding glory to another or else win great glory for ourselves.

And yet…

And yet…

Her feelings for Jaune wound about her like mighty cables, binding her to him so strongly that only the gods themselves could break that bond, and yet, her sense of duty, her Mistralian honour, her destiny came over her like a strong wind and sought to blow her with all those cables towards the battlefield.

And there were times it felt as though she was being pulled in two.

“Ever … ever since I was old enough to understand, I’ve understood, I’ve always thought that I had a destiny,” she began.

“High opinion of yourself,” Sky murmured. “I guess being told you’re awesome will do that to you.”

“I thought you were being nice now?” Kendal demanded.

“I am being nice,” Sky replied. “I’m also being honest.”

“My destiny is … I’m not talking about fate,” Pyrrha explained. “I’m not talking about portents or prophecies or a voice from the heavens descending down to proclaim great glory in my future … that would be very vain and rather arrogant of me, I agree. What I mean is … a final goal, something to which I’ve devoted my whole life, a path to walk, a light to guide me in the darkness of uncertainty. My lodestar, you might say. My destiny is to become a huntress, to … to defend places like this and people like you from the perils that surround it. But…”

Neither Sky nor Kendal said anything. They waited, patiently, for her to speak.

“Going to Beacon was the next step on the road towards my destiny,” Pyrrha said. “Except … except that something happened that I didn’t expect, something that feels as though it could stand between me and my destiny.”

“You could just say ‘Jaune,’ you know,” Kendal pointed out. “We’re his sisters; we’re not going to get offended.”

“Well—”

“We’re not going to get offended,” Kendal repeated heavily. “Or upset in any way.”

Sky smirked, then her smirk turned into a genuine smile. “So you love him, and because you love him, you’re not certain that you want to give your life, basically?”

“I … yes, I suppose that’s it, at heart,” Pyrrha murmured. She paused for a moment. “Many of the great heroes of Mistral went to ends far more certain — and far more certainly ill-fated — than any that confronts me presently, and they did so leaving behind spouses and children whom they loved.” They must go, that was the heroic theme that resounded from the deathless verses of The Mistraliad and other such epics. They must go. “I have begun to wonder if they would not rather have remained.”

“I don’t know about your Mistralian heroes, but I don’t see that there’s any shame in it,” Sky said. “It’s why Dad quit after Rouge was born.”

“Only problem is that Jaune seems to have his heart set on this,” Kendal pointed out.

Pyrrha smiled, and a slight chuckle escaped. “I know,” she said. “And so, can I ask that you don’t mention this to him? He doesn’t need to know; trust me, I’ve no intention of quitting on him.”

It was comforting, in a way; she could waver in spirit all that she wanted without it ever really meaning anything, because even if she wished to forsake her destiny, to make Jaune her new lodestar, then he wished to walk the path regardless. He would be her courage, if need be.

“He won’t hear about it from us,” Kendal assured her. “Will he?” she demanded.

“Of course not,” Sky declared. “Anyway, we should probably start back, or else we’ll miss breakfast.”

They returned to the Arc house fairly swiftly, where Rouge was already up and starting to set the table for breakfast, laying out cutlery at the table.

She looked up as they came in. “Been out for a run?” she asked.

“Yep,” Kendal said.

“And you’re all still alive, that’s good,” Rouge murmured dryly. “We’re still the first ones out of bed so, Pyrrha, why don’t you go jump in the shower first before everyone else gets up while you two help me set the table?”

Kendal nodded. “See you in a little bit, Pyrrha.”

“Um, would one of you mind showing me where the shower is?” Pyrrha murmured.

“Sorry,” Rouge said. “Kendal, go and show Pyrrha where the bathroom is, then come down and help me set the table.”

Kendal led the way back upstairs, and as Rouge had said, it was still pretty quiet up there, with bedroom doors closed and no sounds coming from within. The bathroom lay at the far end of the corridor, past all the bedrooms, and was a spacious room with a free-standing bath and a separate shower cubicle, with the walls covered in tiles of a moderate, neutral blue. A sign hung on the door, a sign which was reversed when they first arrived, but which Kendal flipped around to reveal that it was informing all men — originally, it appeared to have said ‘Jaune,’ but that had been crossed out in favour of a more all-encompassing term — to stay in their rooms.

Next door was the airing cupboard, from which Kendal fetched Pyrrha some guest towels despite her protestations that she had brought her own towels.

“Enjoy,” Kendal said.

And so it was simply a matter of taking her boots off and fetching her toiletries out of her case, and Pyrrha could close the door, step into the shower, and let the water flow through her long red hair and down her back.

It felt as though it was washing away the troubles of the evening before. At that time, it had felt as though this visit might be a complete disaster, but now? Now, the hostility of Sky was at an end, and that of Rouge too, it seemed. Now if she could only win over his parents and Violet, then everything would be perfect, and that … well, she didn’t feel as though that would be nearly as difficult a struggle as Jaune had faced with her mother.

Yes, as the water fell down her, Pyrrha felt very content. She might have started humming, but she didn’t want to swallow anything.

She did, however, start to hum softly to herself as she stepped out of the shower, drying herself off with the towels that Kendal had loaned to her.

She was still humming as, one towel wrapped around her body and the other around her head, she stepped out of the bathroom.

Ruben was waiting on the other side of the door.

“Morning,” he said, smiling down at her.

“Oh,” Pyrrha murmured, coming to a stop just before she walked into him. “Good morning.”

Ruben stared down at her for a moment or two longer than was strictly necessary — making Pyrrha rather conscious of the fact that this towel barely extended below her hips — before he looked away. “My apologies, I must have missed the sign on the door.”

“That’s quite all right,” Pyrrha said, very softly, barely louder than a whisper. “But if you’ll excuse me…” She walked briskly past him, down the corridor in the direction of Kendal’s room.

“Is he paying you?” Ruben asked.

Pyrrha came to a stop. One hand was clutching the towel around her body. The other clenched into a fist.

There were some Mistralians who would have responded to the implications of that — if he was, indeed, implying what Pyrrha thought he was implying — with a challenge to a duel to the death; Pyrrha considered herself to be of a milder temperament, but she had her limits nonetheless.

She did not turn back to face him, but rather, with her back to him, she said, “Perhaps you had better explain what you mean by that.” Her voice was as soft as ever, but it had gotten a fair few degrees colder if he was paying attention.

“Is little Jauney paying you to come here and play at being his girlfriend?” Ruben elaborated. “Is he paying you to lie for him to try and impress everybody?”

That was not what Pyrrha had thought he had been saying, but the fact that Ruben was not, in fact, calling her a member of the Companions’ Guild, didn’t make what he was actually saying easy to bear.

Still, she did not turn to face him, and her voice did not warm. “I’m not pretending anything. I am … I am his, as he is mine.”

Ruben was silent for a moment. “Why?” he demanded. “What could you possibly—”

“I doubt that you could understand, Mister Meade Arc, even if I were inclined to explain it to you,” Pyrrha declared, her voice brittle. “In any case, this is hardly the appropriate circumstances for this or any other sort of conversation, if you will excuse me.”

She began to walk once more, quickening her step yet further, remaining just on the right side of running as she made her way down the corridor and into Kendal’s room.

She shut the door behind her and breathed in and out deeply. Her chest rose and fell with her deep breathing.

Pyrrha closed her eyes for a moment.

Evidently, last night had not smoothed over all obstacles in her way.

It occurred to her that, perhaps, she had been too harsh, too sour; if Ruben chose to talk about it, Rouge might take it the wrong way and take against Pyrrha once again. But then she remembered that Rouge had been the one to snap at him last night.

Perhaps, if he did choose to make an issue of it, they would understand. Jaune’s father had had a Mistralian teammate, and although it seemed that he had been less than fond of her Mistralian manners, perhaps he still remembered the importance of Mistralian honour.

Perhaps. She hoped.

She hoped most of all that Ruben, chastened, would not mention it.

Pyrrha consciously sought to recover her earlier good mood; it was a pity that Jaune’s brother-in-law seemed to dislike him, but so long as he was the only one in the family that was … well, it wasn’t for her to say whether it was manageable for Jaune or not, but she hoped it was. She would give him whatever he needed to support him if it was not, but she hoped it was.

And she still had reasons for good cheer; she had won over Sky, and Mister Arc did not seem ill disposed towards her.

Today was a new day, and many good things might lie in store. She could not let Ruben Meade Arc get her down.

She was visiting Jaune’s family. Jaune had invited her to visit his family.

And some of them, at least, found her suitable.

If that was not reason to wear a smile and put all gloomy thoughts to one side for now, then what was?

Of course, it was not enough to wear a smile; she had to wear something else too, and not these towels either, and so Pyrrha swooped down upon her luggage and began giving thought to what to wear.

She wanted to make a good impression, of course; or rather, she wanted to continue leaving a good impression on those who were well disposed towards her. She wanted to be herself; that was why she had packed as she had, with her own clothes and not with the products of a last-minute shopping trip to some fast-fashion outlet. She wanted them to know … she would have said that she wanted them to know who Pyrrha Nikos was, but that might be a little much to extrapolate from a wardrobe; she wanted them, at least, to know her tastes: elegant, feminine, lovely to look upon.

And yet, she felt as though wearing something too fancy during the day might be a little inappropriate; such things could wait until the evening, when they were more proper.

At the same time, of course, she wanted to look pretty for Jaune, if at all possible.

Considering all these things, taking these factors into account, Pyrrha chose a gown of red, darker at the top and shading into lighter hues the further down her body it fell.

Her gown was really in two parts. Bodice and skirt alike were one, the gown being shoulderless, albeit with a high back that revealed little below her shoulder blades; it had a sweetheart neckline, trimmed with gold, and the bodice hugged the curves of her figure closely as it descended; Pyrrha bound her crimson sash around her waist, although she did not use the disc bearing her emblem to secure it there but merely tied it off in place. The skirt fell at the back below her ankles, but at the sides and especially before her, the hem ascended to expose more of her feet and legs to view; there was a slit at the front that would have exposed a great deal indeed if it were not for the underskirt of pale pink, itself dropping lower at the back and higher at the front, that emerged from out beneath the skirt and concealed her knees and thighs from view.

On her arms and shoulders, Pyrrha wore a maroon bolero, its long sleeves embracing her arms down to past the wrists, covering all of her back and shoulders that her gown did not while leaving a little at the front exposed to view. The bolero fastened tightly about her throat with a large emerald brooch about the size of a chicken egg, while three smaller emeralds dangled from it to rest coolly upon her bare skin. Pyrrha wore her honour band over her sleeve and set her gleaming golden circlet on her brow, although she did not bother to bind her up her hair, letting it hang loose behind her down past her waist.

Upon her feet, she wore a pair of black, high-heeled pumps, with black straps that wound upwards around her feet and ankles.

There was no mirror in Kendal’s room to check her appearance, and the little hand mirror in her compact that Pyrrha used to check that she had applied her eyeshadow correctly was nowhere near large enough, but nevertheless, Pyrrha thought that she had done well.

Hopefully, she wasn’t the only one to think so.

She fussed with her skirt for a moment, smoothing it out, adjusting the lie of the underskirt, making sure that she was comfortable with what could be seen, before she stepped out of Kendal’s room and into the corridor.

Once more, she nearly walked into a man; fortunately, this time, it turned out to be Jaune, wearing his onesie and slippers.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she stepped back from bumping into him. She smiled. “Good morning, Jaune.” This time, Pyrrha took the initiative, leaning forward to plant a soft kiss upon the corner of his mouth.

Jaune’s cheeks began to light up. A little laugh escaped his mouth before he said, “Good morning. Did you sleep well, I mean, as well as you could considering—?”

“I slept … very contentedly,” Pyrrha said. “Thank you. And you?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Jaune said. He paused for a moment. “You’re all ready?”

“Yes, I think I managed to get in the shower before anyone else, except maybe Rouge.”

“Well, you look … how’d I ever get so lucky?”

“Kindness,” Pyrrha said softly, reaching out to take his hands in hers. “Consideration. Understanding.” She squeezed his hands. “And a pair of beautiful blue eyes didn’t hurt either.”

Jaune looked down at their hands, his held in hers, before he looked up into her eyes once more. “Do you want to go down and get something to eat?”

“Aren’t you going to get ready first?”

“I’ll do it after,” Jaune told her. “It’s a lot easier if we take it in turns.”

“I understand,” Pyrrha said. “Then I would love to.”

They were hand in hand as they walked down the stairs, emerging into the dining room to see the table almost made up. Unlike dinner the night before, there was no table cloth in evidence, but there were place settings, and much like the night before, bowls of food — fresh fruit, grapefruit, yoghurt, muesli — was laid out in the centre of the table, along with several glass jugs full of different coloured juices.

Rouge Arc was polishing a glass as Pyrrha and Jaune came down.

“Jaune!” she groaned.

“Good morning to you too, Rouge,” Jaune replied.

Rouge rolled her eyes a little. “Good morning, Jaune,” she said perfunctorily. “Now, Jaune!”

“What?” Jaune asked, a little laughter in his voice.

“What are you wearing?” Rouge demanded.

“The same thing I’ve worn to bed for years, my Pumpkin Pete onesie,” Jaune said.

“Still haven’t got rid of that thing, huh?” Sky asked. She had a cup of something in her hand that she was sipping from.

“Why would I? It’s really comfortable.”

“The defender of mankind,” Sky muttered.

“It’s not about the onesie,” Rouge declared. “Not about the onesie in isolation, anyway. It’s about … how can you dress like that when Pyrrha is dressed like that?”

She put down the glass and gestured with one hand towards Pyrrha, her red gown and maroon bolero.

Pyrrha looked away. The last thing that she had wanted to do was embarrass Jaune. “I’m sorry, I should have realised that I’d be over—”

“It’s not your fault, Pyrrha,” Rouge assured her. “It’s nice to have someone with some class and elegance around the house.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Kendal.

“I think you can guess,” Rouge said. “Anyway, Pyrrha, breakfast around here is a little more informal than dinner; people drift down when they want to, pretty much, so sit down, help yourself. Would you like anything, pancakes, sausage, bacon, eggs? I’ll just dive into the kitchen and whip them up for you.”

“No, thank you,” Pyrrha said as she and Jaune sat down side by side about halfway down the table. “I wouldn’t want you to trouble yourself.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble,” Rouge assured her. “Dad will want a cooked breakfast, I’m sure, and Aoko needs one because she forgets lunch more often than not.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Pyrrha said. “But I’ll be fine.”

“Suit yourself,” Rouge said. “Baby brother? Since we only have you for a few days, I suppose you should be treated like a guest as well.”

“Uh, I’ll have some pancakes?” Jaune half-said, half-asked.

Rouge smiled. “Coming right up,” she said, turning away and walking through the swinging doors into the kitchen.

Sky took another sip out of her cup. “You want some coffee, Pyrrha?”

“No, thank you,” Pyrrha said, reaching for the jug of grapefruit juice.

“You don’t have to be nervous about saying yes,” Kendal assured her. “We wouldn’t offer if we weren’t willing to do it.”

That may have been true, but it didn’t mean that Pyrrha wanted to start treating Jaune’s sisters like the help.

She heard a rapid pitter-patter of feet coming down the stairs and looked around to see Violet leapt down into the dining room. She must have gotten showered already, because she was wearing a purple dress over a white blouse.

“Good morning, Jaune!” she said brightly, greeting him with a smile.

Jaune smiled at her. “Morning, Violet.”

Violet took a seat at the table opposite Jaune, before regarding Pyrrha with a distinctly frosty gaze. “You’re still here,” she declared.

Jaune sighed. “Violet, stop it.”

“Stop what?” Violet asked.

“Be nice to Pyrrha, okay?” Jaune asked. “Please? For me?”

Violet folded her arms. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“It’s alright,” Pyrrha said, putting a hand on Jaune’s arm.

“No,” Jaune said, “it isn’t.”

The sound of shambling footsteps preceded the arrival of Aoko Arc, back hunched over, hair dishevelled, wearing the same ill-fitting t-shirt and shorts that she’d been wearing at dinner the night before. She had one hand against the wall, as if she needed it for support.

“Morning,” she moaned.

“Morning,” Kendal murmured. “How late did you stay up last night?”

“You know the time when everyone got up and started talking really loud downstairs?”

“Uh huh,” Kendal said.

“I stayed up until after that,” Aoko said dully. She approached the table, arms swinging slightly back and forth as they fell down in front of her. “I’d like three sausages—”

“Hang on, Rouge is in the kitchen right now,” Sky told her.

“Oh, right,” Aoko said.

She just about managed to reach the seat next to Pyrrha and sat down. She sat there for a moment, staring into the ether, and only then did she seem to notice that Pyrrha was there beside her.

She looked at Pyrrha and blinked owlishly. “Hello,” she said. “You’re new.”

“Actually, she was here last night,” Kendal pointed out.

Aoko blinked again. “You … who are you?”

“I’m Pyrrha Nikos,” Pyrrha said. “I’m here with Jaune.”

“She’s Jaune’s girlfriend,” Kendal clarified in a sing-song voice.

“'Girlfriend,'” Aoko repeated, slowly, as though she were mulling the word over with her tongue. She looked at Kendal. “We had a bet—”

“Yes, yes, we did,” Kendal said. “And we lost; River won.”

Aoko frowned. “Who did I pick again?”

“The kid in the red cape,” Kendal said. “I told you she was too young-looking. Can I just ask, is she actually that young, or does she just look it?”

“That’s Ruby,” Jaune explained. “She’s only fifteen.”

“'Fifteen'?” Kendal repeated. “Then what’s she doing at Beacon?”

“She was let in early,” Aoko said.

Jaune looked at her. “Did Twilight tell you that?”

“No, it was obvious,” Aoko replied. “She’s too young to get in, ergo, she must have been let in early.” She paused for a moment. “Congratulations, by the way. Is it pretty cool, having a girlfriend?”

Jaune chuckled. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, it is pretty cool.”

“Welcome to the family,” Aoko said, her words emerging in fits and starts out of her mouth. “There is a lot of yelling.”

The doors to the kitchen swung open again, and Rouge emerged, carrying a plate with three pancakes sitting on it. “Here you go, Jaune,” she said, setting the plate down in front of him. “Morning, Vi; morning, Aoko.”

“I’d like three sausages,” Aoko began.

“Morning, y’all,” Chester greeted them as he and River came down the stairs; he was wearing a faded rock band t-shirt and a pair of shorts, while River was wearing a blue blouse with puffed sleeves and an ankle-length skirt of matching colour, with a lighter blue sash around her waist tied into a bow at the back of her waist.

“Morning,” Rouge greeted them.

“You didn’t call Chester out for not being dressed as well as River,” Jaune pointed out as he spread some butter on his pancakes; it started to melt almost instantly.

“She’s given up all hope for me,” Chester said.

“That may or may not be true,” River added, “but Chester is not wearing a Pumpkin Pete…” She trailed off.

Chester put one arm around her. “Honey?”

River walked away without another word, pushing the kitchen doors open and disappearing inside.

“River?” Rouge called. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” River said, although it was not just her voice that emerged from the kitchen, but the sound of things falling and rattling as well.

“Are you sure?” Sky demanded. “It sounds like—”

“I will put everything back eventually,” River insisted. “I just need to find something. It’s in here somewhere.”

“What is, honey?” Chester asked. “Are you having cravings?”

“No, I’m not having cravings.”

“'Cravings'?” Jaune repeated. “Why would River be having cravings?”

“Good morning, everyone,” Saphron said as she and Terra came down into the dining room. They were both dressed, Saphron wearing a brown bomber jacket with a fur lining over a burnt orange turtleneck, and Terra was wearing a blue summer dress with puffed shoulders and dark blue jeans under her short skirt.

“Good morning,” Pyrrha said, turning to look at them. She gasped, a smile spreading across her face. “And who is this?” she cooed, her voice taking on a breathless affect, every word exaggeratedly drawn out.

Because in Terra’s arms, she was holding a little boy with a soft round face and plenty of baby fat still in his cheeks. He looked far more like Terra’s son than Saphron’s — he had her skin tone, her brown eyes, and her black hair, cut shortish and looking very soft as it fell down across his forehead and covered one of his eyebrows — and Pyrrha remembered what Terra had said about giving the family their first grandchild. He was dressed in a white and blue striped shirt, his little hands emerging from out of the sleeves, with dark blue overalls on over the top and white and grey socks enclosing his little feet.

“This is Adrian,” Terra said, bouncing Adrian up and down in her arms a little, making him gurgle happily, “our son.”

“Aww,” Jaune said. “I haven’t seen him since he was just a baby.”

“He still is half a baby,” Saphron said, and Adrian seemed to understand that, since he seemed to pout upon hearing it. “But he’s a baby who can recognise faces now, so, Adrian, why don’t you meet your Uncle Jaune?”

Jaune got up, leaving the butter to melt into his pancakes as he crossed the short distance separating him from Saphron and Terra. He bent down, stooping so that he was level with Adrian’s face rather than looming over him.

“Hey, there, little guy,” he said, in much the same breathless, half-whispery, half-excited voice that Pyrrha had used when she first caught sight of him. “I’m your cool Uncle Jaune!”

“Well, you’re half right,” Sky muttered.

Jaune ignored her, carrying on, “And when you’re older, you can come to me for advice about anything.”

He beamed and waggled one finger in front of Adrian’s face.

Adrian grinned and chuckled, but he ignored Jaune’s finger and instead reached out across the short distance separating their faces to grab a strand of Jaune’s hair from his fringe.

“Hey!” Jaune squawked, while Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand as a little giggle escaped from between her lips.

Adrian laughed as well, even as he let Jaune go.

Jaune straightened up. “He’s got a grip on him already,” he said.

“Be nice to Uncle Jaune, Adrian,” Saphron chided her son, “and be grateful you don’t have any older sisters.”

She and Terra — still carrying Adrian — walked around the table, and as they did so, Adrian waved to Pyrrha, making indistinct and wordless noises as he passed.

“Hello!” Pyrrha said, waving back to him. “My name’s Pyrrha; it’s nice to meet you!”

Adrian cried out something which, though it made no sense, certainly sounded cheerful.

“I think he likes you,” Saphron said.

“He’s got a good sense for people,” Terra added with a wink at Pyrrha.

“Is he eating solid food already?” Jaune asked. “How old is he now? He can’t be more than—”

“Almost two,” Saphron said.

“What’s up with the war in the kitchen?” Terra asked.

Rouge winced as something crashed in the kitchen. “River is … well, we don’t rightly know what River’s doing.”

Jaune began, “What was that you were saying about—?”

“I KNEW IT!” River yelled. A moment later, she stomped out of the kitchen, and in one hand, she was holding a box of Pumpkin Pete’s Marshmallow Flakes.

With Pyrrha’s face on the box.

Jaune whimpered wordlessly as River strode around the table.

She reached through the gap between Pyrrha and Aoko to slam the box down onto the table next to Pyrrha.

“What do you think of that?” she demanded.

Judging by the way he reached towards the box with both hands, what Adrian thought was that he wanted some cereal.

Aoko bent down and craned her head around the box. “Huh,” she said. “That girl on the box looks like you, Pyrrha.”

“It is Pyrrha!” River cried. “Pyrrha is the girl on the cereal box!”

A chorus of ohs and oohs followed from the Arcs.

Sky folded her arms. “You really are a bigshot, aren’t you? They only put huge celebrities and cartoon characters on cereal boxes.”

Pyrrha felt her smile becoming fused to her face. “I suppose you could say that.”

“So how did you manage it?” Sky asked.

“I told you all last night,” Terra said. “She won the Mistral Regional Tournament four years in a row, the only person in the tournament’s history to win that often, let alone consecutively.”

“How old is the tournament?” inquired Kendal.

Terra’s eyes narrowed. “Hundreds of years?”

“The first tournament that can be historically proven took place eight hundred and sixty years ago,” Pyrrha murmured. “Although there are scholars who insist that there is evidence of it being much older, and of course, it descends from earlier forms of entertainment.”

“That,” Aoko said, “is a very long time.”

“You said it, Aoko,” Kendal replied.

Saphron glanced at Terra. “You knew about this, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Terra said.

“You know,” Saphron said, “communication is the key to a successful marriage.”

Terra smiled. “Then let me communicate to you that I’m not going to spill all of Pyrrha’s secrets to you; if Pyrrha wants to tell you, then she can; if not, then she doesn’t have to.”

“But it might be important,” Saphron declared.

“If I knew that Pyrrha had … killed someone in a match, then of course I’d tell you,” Terra said, “but what difference does it really make whether her face is on a cereal box or not?”

“Terra makes a very good point,” Rouge pronounced. “It does feel a little strange, having one of the mascots of Pumpkin Pete be a guest in our home — and Jaune’s girlfriend, what is more — but the fact of the matter is that Pyrrha remains, first and foremost, Jaune’s girlfriend.”

“First and foremost and only, please,” Pyrrha pleaded softly. “To tell the truth, I was rather glad when none of you noticed.”

“Fine by me,” Violet said. “That cereal’s for children anyway.”

“This isn’t about Pyrrha,” River insisted.

“It’s not?” Aoko asked.

“Obviously, it’s a little bit about Pyrrha,” River admitted. “But do none of you remember? Jaune brought like fifty boxes of this stupid cereal to get that hoodie! And most of them had Pyrrha’s face on them — even though, at the time, we didn’t know that it was Pyrrha — and—”

“And we teased him that he’d fallen for the girl on the box!” Kendal cried. She clapped her hands together and laughed delightedly. “Oh my God, that is—”

“Hilarious,” Sky said.

“I was going to say incredible,” Kendal said, “but that too.” A grin blossomed across her face. “And to think that you tried to deny it at the time.”

Jaune pushed his plate of pancakes away, the better to slam his head down onto the table and let out a wordless groan.

“If you’re not going to eat those pancakes, then give them here,” Aoko said, “I’m starving.”

“Oh, come on, Jaune,” River said, patting him on the back. “You have to let us have this; this is … this is too much. I mean, you fell in love with the girl on the Pumpkin Pete’s cereal box.”

“I did not fall in love with … okay, I did fall in love with the girl on the cereal box, but it’s not the way you make it sound,” Jaune said, turning his head so that Pyrrha could see his face and his voice could escape away from the table.

Pyrrha put one hand upon his arm. “It isn’t how you all seem to think.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Rouge said. “Falling in love with a girl based on her picture on a box, that’s storybook twaddle. I’d lose a lot of respect for any girl who went out with a boy on that kind of basis, even if that boy was my own brother.”

“You can rest easy then,” Pyrrha assured her. “As I say, like you, Jaune had completely forgotten about me, or at least, he didn’t recognise me when he met me in person.” She felt her cheeks flush a little, and she couldn’t resist adding. “He told me it was because I was so much prettier in person.”

“Aww,” the female Arcs — save for Violet and Aoko — chorused, whether sincerely or mockingly, Pyrrha couldn’t tell.

“You always were a sweetheart, Jaune,” Kendal said.

River took a seat next to Jaune. Chester took the seat opposite her.

“So,” River said, “how did you two end up together?”

“Yeah,” Sky said, leaning forwards on the table. “I mean … Jaune, you’re my brother, so I love you, and Pyrrha, I like you a lot better than I did last night, but I have to ask, I think we all have to ask … how? Why?”

“Why does everyone feel the need to ask that?” Pyrrha asked in turn, allowing a touch of weariness to enter into her voice.

Kendal’s eyes narrowed. “Who else has asked?”

“Ruben,” Pyrrha said, “as I was coming out of the bathroom.”

“Ruben was there when you were coming out of the bathroom?” River squawked.

“I apologise for my husband,” Rouge said, “but, unlike him, we want to know out of…”

“Amusement?” Kendal suggested.

“That,” Rouge admitted. “But also out of love.”

“Hey, kids,” Mister Arc said, as he and his wife came downstairs. “What’s going on?”

“We just found out that Jaune’s girlfriend is Jaune’s girlfriend,” Aoko muttered.

“I think that was rather obvious, sweetie,” Mrs. Arc said gently.

“No, Mom, take a look at this,” Saphron said, reaching across the table to pick up the cereal box — Adrian briefly reached for it in vain, the longing noises that he made going unheeded — and turning it around so that the Arc parents could see Pyrrha’s face upon it.

“This is the cereal that Jaune bought all those boxes of to get that Pumpkin Pete’s hoodie he wears, and it’s—”

“Pyrrha,” Mrs. Arc murmured. “Oh my. Oh my goodness. And oh, my word, that’s a lovely dress you’re wearing, dear; let me take a look at you.”

“Of course, ma’am,” Pyrrha murmured, getting up from her seat and walking in front of it so that there was nothing to obstruct Mrs. Arc’s view of her gown and bolero. She gripped the skirt between her forefingers and thumbs, spreading it out a little on either side of her, then briefly turned around, her red sash flowing around her, so that she could see the back as well.

“Oh, that looks beautiful,” Mrs. Arc said. “And you look beautiful, Pyrrha.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Pyrrha was just about to tell us how she and Jaune got together,” River said.

“Really?” Mister Arc said as he took his seat at the head of the table.

“That does sound fascinating,” Mrs. Arc said as she sat down beside her husband.

Pyrrha swallowed, conscious of all eyes upon her. “Well,” she murmured, “Jaune…”

Jaune looked at her apologetically. “Would you mind?” he asked. “I … sorry, but…”

“All right,” Pyrrha said softly. She looked around the room and suddenly found herself wishing that she could look somewhere else. She ended up focussing on Adrian, the one person who wasn’t staring at her intently.

It was rather comforting.

Pyrrha cleared her throat. “As I said,” she began, “Jaune didn’t recognise me when we first met, which was on our first day at Beacon. I was … well, I was rather taken with Jaune at once, but Jaune…” She glanced at him.

“It’s okay,” he said, lifting his head off the table somewhat. “You can tell them.”

Pyrrha nodded. “Jaune,” she said again, “Jaune had eyes for someone else.”

“Who?” Violet asked.

“Weiss Schnee,” Jaune groaned.

“Weiss Schnee?” Kendal repeated incredulously.

“I know, I know, it was stupid.”

“You say that, but then you did end up with Pyrrha, who is something of a celebrity herself, it seems,” Saphron pointed out.

“There’s a difference between Pyrrha and a Schnee,” Kendal said. “No offence, Pyrrha.”

“None taken,” Pyrrha assured. After all, in Mistral, the difference would be quite different than you mean.

“Was it hard for you?” asked Rouge.

Pyrrha looked at her. “Was what hard for me?”

“Watching Jaune chase after this Weiss Schnee,” Rouge murmured. “You told us that you liked Jaune from the moment you met him, but he … Again, I’m … I’m surprised. He ignored you, he made your heart ache, and yet, you reward him with love and affection. It sounds…” She sighed. “It sounds a little desperate to me.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Pyrrha said immediately. “Jaune didn’t make my heart ache, and he didn’t pursue Weiss for that long. It was … when did Sunset make you leave her alone, Jaune?”

“A few weeks, maybe as little as two,” Jaune said. “It was after she got back from that team leader mission.”

“Who’s Sunset?” asked Saphron.

“Our team leader,” Jaune explained. “She’s the one in the picture with flaming hair. She told me to back off Weiss and leave her alone.”

“And in any case,” Pyrrha added, “for the most part, Jaune was a very attentive partner.”

River grinned. “So when did you see that what you were looking for had been there the whole time?”

Pyrrha found herself smiling at the memory. “That was during our last vacation,” she said. “You see, I’d invited my teammates to come back to Mistral with me and be my guests. My mother … my mother…”

“Pyrrha’s mom didn’t like me very much,” Jaune finished for her. “Oh, by the way, Sunset, my team leader? After Dad’s birthday party, she’s going to come down here to research our family history.”

“What does our family history have to do with anything?” Mister Arc demanded.

“It’s my fault,” Pyrrha murmured. “My family is … my family is rather old, in Mistral. Old and noble and proud. As Jaune told you, I’m afraid my mother didn’t like Jaune very much.” She paused for a moment. “We went to a party together, Jaune and I, and Sunset and Ruby, our teammates. We ended up separated, each going our own way, and I ended up alone. Until Jaune saw me alone. He was … very considerate. Very kind. The truth is, whatever you may have thought about him buying those cereal boxes, however you may have teased him, however Jaune may have felt at the time, I’ve never doubted that Jaune saw me for me, Pyrrha Nikos, not the four-time champion of the tournament, not the Invincible Girl, not the Princess—“

“'Princess'?!” Violet cried.

Pyrrha winced, realising that her words had gotten away from her a little.

“That … that’s kind of what Pyrrha meant when she said ‘old family’,” Jaune admitted. “Pyrrha’s family, her ancestors, they used to—”

“To rule Mistral,” Pyrrha finished for him. It felt like it was her place to say it. “My ancestors were Emperors and Empresses of Mistral.”

“Hence, Pyrrha is known in Mistral as the Princess Without a Crown,” Terra murmured.

River whistled.

“And you’re dating our Jaune?” Sky asked.

“As I said, he sees me for me,” Pyrrha reminded her. “But my mother was not very happy when she saw our … burgeoning attraction. She told Jaune that I was engaged to another man.”

“Are you?!” demanded Violet.

“No!” Pyrrha cried. “I would never treat Jaune that way. I was furious when I found out. I told my mother that I was going to leave home at once, and … then I kissed Jaune. And he kissed me.”

“That’s sweet,” Mister Arc said. “And I mean that sincerely. But if that’s the case, I don’t see what it has to do with your team leader coming down here to look into our history.”

“Because … my mother reached out to me,” Pyrrha explained. “She wanted to make amends, to mend the rift between us. She was prepared to accept my being in a relationship with Jaune, but to save face, she would prefer it if there could be some evidence found that Jaune is of a noble ancestry.”

“Then, no offence, but why don’t you look yourself?” asked Chester.

“Because it doesn’t particularly bother me,” Pyrrha replied, “but Sunset is fond of my mother, and she wishes to do her this service.”

“Maybe you can help, Sky?” Mrs. Arc suggested. “You know about the town’s history, after all.”

“The town’s history, not the family’s,” Sky said. “Like I told Pyrrha, the records don’t go further back than the town’s founding. But she’s welcome to look, and I suppose I could see if there’s anything I can add to help her with it.”

“I’m sure that will be much appreciated,” Pyrrha said. “Thank you.”

Sky shrugged. “I’m not sure what she’ll find.”

“It might be kind of cool if we turned out to be lords and ladies,” River said.

“What does it matter nowadays?” Sky asked.

“It matters in Mistral,” Terra murmured.

“I understand now,” Mrs. Arc said softly, “why you threatened to leave, Jaune.” She smiled. “After all, Pyrrha already walked away from her mother; I don’t suppose you could have decently told her that you couldn’t walk away from yours. I hope you realise what a lucky girl you are, Pyrrha Nikos.”

Pyrrha bowed her head. “Believe me, ma’am, I’m very aware.”

“I just have one question,” Aoko murmured. “When is somebody going to make me some breakfast?”

The sound of laughter filled the dining room.

Comments

[Lancerguy]

Now this is a meet the family chapter, and what a chapter it was. Sky went up a few notches for me, if only because of personal bias.

“No, thanks to Jaune,” Sky said. “You guys all heard the pause there, right? It wasn’t ‘no thanks to Jaune’ it was ‘no, comma, thanks to Jaune,’ because—”

I was actually thinking "That can be taken several ways Sky" before reading the second half of the line, so that proved to be unintentionally funny

“I’m afraid that you might have to ask the Last King of Vale for a true answer as to what he was thinking when he founded the Academies and set up the system of huntsmen and huntresses,” Pyrrha said, “but, speaking for myself, I think that the answer must lie in the old stories, the fairy tales of Vale that speak of heroes battling against monsters.”

Well I have good news for you in that case

“I KNEW IT!” River yelled. A moment later, she stomped out of the kitchen, and in one hand, she was holding a box of Pumpkin Pete’s Marshmallow Flakes.

Yes this was adorable, as was the scene that followed. These two really were meant for each other.

[Mastermind4892]

This was the best chapter yet for the Arc family! I was hoping for one of these! A completely fresh, extended and new look into the family for the rewrite, especially to cover all the new events and character developments!

I can’t wait for Sunset Shimmer’s part, the other half of this crossover as she looks into helping the best couple of this story!

And Reuben? Ohhhhh that was the wrong thing to say!

[Aemon Targaryen]

Nice superman reference.

Also, Pyrrha and jaune are still sweet as ever.

I really hope Sunset will humiliate Ruben once there, and then her arc there () will be as enjoyable to read as that of Jaune and Pyrrha.

[Christopher28]

Oh, thank you! Yes, more of this please!

Seriously… excellent stuff. Love the world building and family drama.

Hate Ruben. Which you intended.

Kind of want someone to point out that he just suggested that the “Princess without a Crown” and one of the most talented fighters in the world… was a prostitute… and let him wonder just how close to death he was at that moment… if Pyhrra was anywhere near as selfish and pigheaded as Ruben was, anyway.

I mean, imagine it from his point of view, if someone implied that he was a male prostitute, he’s thin skinned enough to have tried to take their head off… and Pyrrha is a hundred times more dangerous than he is.

He should be terrified.

I just kind of want him to find out exactly how powerful Pyrrha is… and go really pale as his life passes before his eyes.

And no… Ruben being an ass isn’t what I liked most about this chapter… but I WOULD like to see him have his eyes opened a bit before this arc is completed.

[Raul]

Yup! That is a very easy method to make me hate a character. Ooh Ruben reeks of sleaziness…