• Published 31st Aug 2018
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SAPR - Scipio Smith



Sunset, Jaune, Pyrrha and Ruby are Team SAPR, and together they fight to defeat the malice of Salem, uncover the truth about Ruby's past and fill the emptiness within their souls.

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Part of the Family (New)

Part of the Family

Jaune’s room was much as he had left it. In fact, it was exactly as he had left it, on the night that he had crept out of the house and stolen away to Beacon.

Perhaps everyone had left it the way it was in case he came back.

Assuming as they had done that he would come back at some point.

Either way, that was behind them now; the fact remained that they had left his room just as it was: the same superhero posters up on the walls, the same books on the shelves, the same cartoon quilt — yes, he should have grown out of that sometime ago, but he’d never seen the need to change it; it did its job, after all — on the bed. Everything was just as it had been. Nothing had changed, except him.

He was not the same Jaune Arc that he had been when he had slipped away to chase his dreams. He was older, of course; stronger, without doubt, thanks to Pyrrha’s patient tutelage; wiser? Maybe he was wiser, although he could call himself more worldly with a little more accuracy and less chance of being wrong. It would have been hard not to be more worldly now than he had been when he had left, given that he had known so little of the world then. He knew more now. He knew more of Vale, more of Mistral, more of Atlas, more of Remnant itself and all that made it up. He had seen things, done things, and those things that he had seen and done had left him changed.

He was … was he a man? He had been a boy when he had left, was he a man now? Jaune … Jaune was not sure. His father had told him that Beacon had made him a man, but Jaune himself … he didn’t know. He couldn’t say for certain. He still wasn’t much like Rueben, wasn’t much like what many here in Alba Longa would call a man, so maybe he remained a boy.

Or maybe it was them who were wrong, and to be a man was something different than they imagined.

Perhaps it could be, at least.

Such thoughts were a distraction. A distraction that Jaune could ill afford right now, because it was the night of his Dad’s birthday, and he, Jaune, could not find his suit.

He had packed it. He knew that he had packed it. He was absolutely cast iron certain that he had packed it — but, just to be sure, he had called Sunset and asked her to root through his stuff back at Beacon; she had done so and found no more trace of a suit there than he had found here.

Jaune had turned out his case, dumped everything that he had brought with him onto the bed; it had been very untidily packed in; he’d thought that he’d done a better job than that; either nerves had made him pack badly, or else they had made him forget just how badly he had packed. In any case, he had dumped everything out of his case and onto the cartoon quilt of the bed, and he had found no suit. In fact, he hadn’t been able to find anything connected with a suit: no jacket, no trousers, no shirt, no bow tie; even his cufflinks were missing. Surely, he couldn’t have forgotten everything; he wasn’t that stupid.

And yet, judging by what he had or had not packed, he really was that stupid. The only thing he had were shoes and only because he’d worn them on the train down here.

Where was it? Where was his suit? And if he’d forgotten to pack it, then why couldn’t Sunset find it either back at Beacon? Had a grimm eaten it while he wasn’t looking?

Jaune took a deep breath. He needed to stay calm. This was just like training, stay calm, don’t get emotional, don’t think about the fact that the party was about to start and he had nothing to wear and what was he going to do?

How had this happened?

There was a knock on his bedroom door. “Jaune?” Kendal called. “Are you decent in there?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jaune replied. “Sort of.”

“'Sort of'?” Kendal asked.

“You can come in; it’s fine,” Jaune said. Even though it really isn’t.

The door opened, revealing not only Kendal, but River too. Kendal was still wearing her green tank top and shorts, but River was already dressed up in a shimmering one shoulder, one piece mermaid gown of shimmering sky blue. A bracelet of blue gemstones glimmered around her right wrist.

“Are you okay, Jaune?” River asked.

“Not really,” Jaune admitted. “I can’t find my suit anywhere. I’ve looked everywhere, but I can’t find it. I can’t even find a single bit of it.”

Kendal and River looked at one another.

“Yeah,” River murmured. “About that…”

“What?” Jaune demanded. “What is it?”

“I … I was making a final check for Rouge,” Kendal said. “And I found … well … this is what I found.” She produced a black jacket from behind her, his black jacket, stained with mud.

Or at least Jaune very much hoped that it was mud.

“My suit!” Jaune cried. “How did … where was it?”

Kendal winced. “In the compost heap.”

“'The compost heap'?” Jaune repeated incredulously. “How did it get there?”

“We didn’t put it there,” Kendal said defensively.

“I know, I know, I just…” Jauned trailed off.

Someone had put it there, and as much as the door was open, and it could, theoretically, have been anyone, it was more likely to be someone from inside the house than someone coming in from town. But yeah, Kendal wouldn’t have done this, and neither would River.

It didn’t really matter who’d done it, at this point. Sure, it was incredibly petty of whoever it was — and Jaune had a pretty good idea of who it was — to do something like this tonight of all nights, very mature, but there were more important things to worry about than that.

Things like what he was going to do now.

“Did you find the rest?” Jaune asked.

Kendal nodded. “We’ve put everything else in the wash.”

“Thanks, but there’s no way it’ll wash and dry in time,” Jaune said. He thought quickly; he didn’t have long to come up with an alternative. He still had his blazer. He could always just throw it over his hoodie or a plain t-shirt; a lot of people probably wouldn’t notice that he was improperly dressed. That would be the easy thing to do. He could do that, and probably, no one would say anything.

Pyrrha certainly wouldn’t say anything, even though he would be wearing a t-shirt and a school blazer, and she would be … well, he hadn’t seen exactly what Pyrrha would be wearing yet, but he bet that it would look absolutely beautiful. She would be gorgeous, she would be radiant, she would be exquisite, and he would be … no, he couldn’t do that. Even if she wouldn’t mind, even if she wouldn’t say anything, he ought to try and make an effort to dress up to her level, at least for tonight.

“Excuse me,” he said, walking towards the doorway and his sisters.

River and Kendal made way for him, moving aside to let him out into the upstairs corridor. Jaune headed down the corridor, towards his parents’ room which sat at the very end of the house. River and Kendal followed after him, the tapping of River’s high heels alternating with the duller thumping sounds of Kendal’s boots.

Jaune realised as he approached the door that however this turned out, he was probably going to look mildly ridiculous, but at least he would look as though he’d made an effort.

He reached his parents’ bedroom door and knocked on it.

“Who is it?” Dad called out from inside.

“It’s Jaune,” Jaune said. “Dad, I need to ask a favour. Oh, River and Kendal are out here too.”

There was a moment’s pause before the door opened. His Dad stood in the doorway, wearing a vest and his suit trousers, the braces already over his shoulders. His right cheek, but not the left, was covered in shaving cream.

“Do you all need favours?” he asked.

“No, Dad, it’s just me,” Jaune said. “I need to borrow a suit.”

“You came all this way without a suit?” his father asked incredulously.

“No, Dad, I had a suit with me; I just can’t wear it because … the point is that I need to borrow a suit; do you have anything that I can wear tonight? I … I want to look like I at least tried to look good.”

His Dad smiled knowingly. “I get it,” he said. “I mean, I still don’t get why you can’t wear the suit that you apparently brought with you, but whatever, let’s go with it. Now … you are a little trimmer around the waist than I am, I’ve got to admit, but when I was about your age … you can wear my wedding tux; that ought to fit you. It’ll be close enough anyway.”

“Your wedding tux?” River repeated. “You kept the suit you wore at your wedding?”

“Yep,” Dad declared. “I kept it in case, one day, I would have a son who would be without a suit for a special occasion.”

“Really?” Jaune asked.

“No, not really; I kept it because I wore it on the day I married your mother,” Dad said. “And also in case I had a son who could wear it on his wedding day.”

Jaune was silent for a moment. “Dad, that … I mean, it’ll kind of ruin the moment if I wear it tonight.”

“Well, you can get your own suit for your wedding, then see if you can manage to pass it on to your son … or else pressure your prospective son-in-law into wearing it by claiming it’s an old family tradition. Now, do you want the suit or not?”

“Yes!” Jaune said quickly. “Yes, I’ll take it.”

“Then come on in,” Dad said. “I’ll get it out of the closet for you.”

Jaune followed his father into the bedroom, where Dad opened the big walk-in closet built into, well, the wall. He reached inside and pulled out a gold suit. A completely gold suit.

“What do you think?” Dad asked proudly.

Jaune blinked. “It … it’s gold,” he said.

“I know!”

“You married Mom in a gold suit?”

“Well, it is my name,” Dad reminded him. “And it is the colour on our family crest.”

That was true, Jaune supposed, but still … a gold suit. There was a chance that he’d be less embarrassed in jeans and a t-shirt.

But if he did wear jeans and a t-shirt, then he’d look wrong with Pyrrha hanging off his arm in whatever she’d be wearing tonight; he might even look like he didn’t care enough to make any kind of effort for his girlfriend or his father.

Wearing this, at worst, he’d look just a little silly.

And, honestly, yes, it was a bit of a shock when you first saw it, but the more you looked at it … it didn’t look half bad.

“So?” Dad asked. “Do you want it?”

Jaune reached out to take the coat hanger from his father’s unresisting hand. “Yes,” he said, “yes, I want it.” He smiled. “Thanks Dad, this has … this has just saved my night.”

Dad chuckled, and patted him on the shoulder. “You’re a lucky guy, Jaune,” he said.

“I know,” Jaune said. “Trust me, I know.”

“Now get out of here,” Dad said. “I still have to finish getting ready myself.”

Jaune left, pausing only to acquire a shirt — a dress shirt which was also gold, albeit a paler gold than the suit — before leaving Dad to shave and do whatever else he needed to do before he finished getting ready. With River and Kendal in tow, he returned to his own room.

“So … you’re going to wear that?” River asked. “You could always have just asked Chester to borrow a suit.”

“This … this might not be something that I’d choose to wear,” Jaune admitted. “But come on, this is the suit Dad wore to get married in; that’s kind of neat, don’t you think?”

“It’s kind of old, don’t you think?” River replied.

“It’s going to work out, River,” Jaune insisted.

At least, he hoped it would.


Pyrrha hummed gently to herself as she fastened her gorget around her neck.

After a rough start, she thought, her visit with Jaune’s family had gone rather well. Violet had apologised to her last night; now, all of Jaune’s sisters seemed to approve of her, with the possible exception of Aoko, whose opinion on these matters was hard to gauge. And Jaune’s mother and father both seemed … accepting at the very least.

It was what she’d wanted.

They liked her. They might not have wanted to, they might still have some worries which, honestly, were not unjustified, but they liked her. They would accept her as part of their family, if and when — hopefully when — Jaune decided to make her so.

Although, that reminded her that if and when that happened — again, hopefully when — they would need to talk about last names.

Still, that could wait. All of that sort of thing could wait. She was getting very far ahead of herself. Jaune hadn’t even proposed yet, and probably wouldn’t until after they graduated in any event.

There would be plenty of time for all of that later. For now, she was content that Jaune’s family did not hate the idea of the two of them together.

For now, that was quite enough.

For now, Mister Arc’s birthday party was about to begin, and she was almost ready.

Pyrrha had gotten a shower, come back to Kendal’s room, and got out her gown, the best gown that she had packed, quite possibly the best gown she owned. She had got it out, looked at it, and in the process of looking at it, she had wondered if it might not be a bit too much.

Quite possibly, it was a bit much — it was, Pyrrha had to admit, rather a lot, but she liked it, she thought that it was very nice, and at least everyone would be dressing up tonight. They might not be dressing up quite as much as Pyrrha herself, but they would be dressing up, and Pyrrha could hardly be faulted for doing the same.

Besides, she liked it, and she hoped that Jaune would like it too.

And so, she had put on the dress; it might have been considered a frivolous use of Polarity to fasten her gown up the back where Pyrrha found it hard to reach, but in the absence of Iris or Hestia to assist her, it was very convenient to have such a semblance.

Pyrrha’s gown was gold, or at least it looked so from the outside, although it had to be admitted that the innermost layer of the skirt was pale yellow. Almost all of that skirt, however, was concealed from view beneath the peplum of gold which covered all but a triangular slit at the front, descending from the waist and widening out in front of Pyrrha. Around the hem of the peplum was the same pale yellow as the underskirt, a solid line with some undulating arches above. A sash of gold ran around the skirt, somewhere between the level of her ankles and knees, in waves, rising up and down, up and down, and at each point where the wave crested were embroidered onto the dress a multitude of beautiful white camellias — three large camellias on either side directly before her, at the edges of the peplum, and then only two at each point as the sash curved around the sides of the dress — and amongst the flowers, verdant green leaves and great gleaming pearls, each larger than Pyrrha’s thumb. A second layer of overskirt, also gold and trimmed at the edges with pale yellow, fell down behind her at the back, almost like the train of a wedding gown, save that it did not actively trail behind her.

The bodice was shoulderless, and in shape, it very much resembled Pyrrha’s cuirass, even as the golden colour recalled the gilded armour in the centre of the same; here, however, the gold was on either side of her, and in the centre, there were more camellias, a riot of white camellias — and leaves and gleaming pearls accompanying them — that seemed to be bursting out of her from inside the bodice, pushing the two sides of the dress apart as they blossomed and bloomed as she had bloomed, with Jaune, at Beacon.

The bodice hugged her figure, clinching at her waist, but above the waist was bound a golden chain, almost like a belt that was trying to keep her dress together and stop the flowers from bursting out from within it, and in the centre of the chain was set a great emerald, set in elaborate curling gold and by five lesser emeralds arranged around it, almost as the five lesser stars were arrayed around the greater in Twilight Sparkle’s symbol.

Her dress had no sleeves, but Pyrrha’s arms were not completely bare; cream-coloured gloves enclosed her hands and kept her arms concealed from view up to just below her elbows, while on her right arm, she wore her honour band. She had not brought any extra jewellery with her to Alba Longa that was not directly part of one of her dresses, and so, around her neck she wore her usual gorget, while upon her brow sat her glittering circlet, and from the circlet hung the chains with their teal drops upon them. Her long red hair fell down behind her in a ponytail reaching past her waist.

“You look nice,” Kendal observed from behind her. “You make me look a little underdressed, but … you look nice.”

Pyrrha turned to face her. Kendal herself wore a dress of that same shade of green that gave her her name, but it was a rather plain dress and mostly devoid of decoration; the skirt, though it flared outwards in a bell shape, extended only to her knees, leaving her legs bare to the strap-on green heels she wore on her feet. An illusion neckline half covered the space between the bodice and her neck. A yellow sash, wrapped around her waist and tied in a little bow upon her left side, was all the adornment that the dress possessed, and Kendal wore little enough other adornment besides: nothing but a slender band of gold sitting around her right wrist.

“I … I’m sorry,” Pyrrha said. “It wasn’t my intent to—”

Kendal raised a hand to forestall her. “I was kidding; don’t worry about it. The truth is, I’ve never really cared for dressing up, but for those who do? Good luck to them. As I say, you look nice. You probably look a lot more than nice to someone who appreciates that sort of thing better.”

Pyrrha smiled. “Thank you.”

For a moment, Kendal looked as though she wanted to say something else. Or perhaps she wanted to laugh; it was hard to tell. Her mouth opened, but then it closed again as Kendal turned away. She covered her mouth with one hand, then balled that hand into a fist as though she wanted to bite into it, then opened it again and lowered her hand to her side, all without saying anything.

“Is everything alright?” Pyrrha asked, taking half a step closer to Jaune’s sister, her gown trailing a little on the floor behind her.

“No,” Kendal said quickly, “no, everything’s fine.” She paused for a moment. “Is there anything that Jaune could do that would embarrass you?”

“Embarrass me?” Pyrrha repeated. “I … that I can imagine that he might do? No, not that I can think of.”

“There are things that would embarrass you that you can’t imagine that Jaune would do?” Kendal asked.

“Obviously, if he cheated on me, that would be … I would be humiliated, as well as heartbroken,” Pyrrha murmured. “But Jaune would never do that; he is too kind. Even if … even if I lost his heart, he would still tell me so first. Why do you ask, if you don’t mind telling me?”

“Oh, no reason at all,” Kendal said, although the smile playing upon her face suggested that there was a reason, just one that she’d rather not divulge to Pyrrha. And, if that was the case, then Pyrrha was prepared to respect that. Doubtless, she would find out for herself what had brought this on, but she doubted that she would, in fact, find it embarrassing.

As she had said to Kendal, the only things that Jaune could do that would embarrass her were so out of his nature that she could scarcely conceive of them.

The window to Kendal’s room was open, and the cool evening air carried with it the sounds of a crowd gathering outside — Pyrrha had found out that this birthday party was not simply a family affair, but one to which a good chunk of Alba Longa was invited; that was one of the reasons the party was being held outside — although on the other side of the house, so that Pyrrha could see nothing by looking out of the window.

It was, in a sense, the most familiar thing to Pyrrha that she had encountered since coming here to Alba Longa; this village was not Mistral in any sense, but the way that the gathering was not just for the family, nor for the guest of honour, but for the community as a whole, that was something she was very familiar with. She was reminded of her own birthday parties, of the balls in the ballroom, of the meals in the great dining hall, of the lords and councillors who had attended. She had found them all to be very dull affairs, that her mother had enjoyed far more than she did. Pyrrha herself … she had often felt more like part of the decoration than the guest of honour: something to be seen, something to be appreciated upon an aesthetic level, not someone to be connected with, certainly not the person whom all of this was supposedly in honour of.

She wondered if Gold Arc felt the same way about his parties.

Probably not. Possibly not, at any case. Even in Mistral, there were those who felt differently; Pyrrha had attended Juturna Rutulus’ birthday parties — not because she knew that younger Rutulus particularly well, but because it was expected both that Juturna should invite her and that she should accept — and she always seemed to be enjoying herself very much.

In any case, one could read too much into comparisons. Whatever was waiting outside was probably not going to be just like a Mistral party.

“Anyway,” Kendal said, “are you ready?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said, “yes, I think I am.”

Kendal nodded, and smiled, and crossed quickly to the bedroom door, opening it to reveal Terra just passing in front of the doorway as it opened. She was wearing silver, a shimmering silver gown with an asymmetrical skirt that left her legs visible before her while trailing after her, and a halter neck that left her arms bare, save for the bracelets of amber and white pearls, the luminescent gems alternating with the yellow stones in stacked bracelets climbing up her arms.

Terra stopped as the door opened to regard them both. “Hello,” she said, before letting out an appreciative whistle. “You look incredible.”

Pyrrha let out a chuckle. “Is that really something a married woman should be saying?”

Terra laughed.

“You look very lovely yourself,” Pyrrha said. “Those bracelets are beautiful.”

“Thanks,” Terra said. “I made them myself.”

“Really?” Pyrrha asked. “You make jewellery?”

“I’m not a jeweller or anything,” Terra said, “but my aunt left me one of those old-fashioned pearl necklaces, you know the type; they’re six foot long or longer and designed to be wrapped three times around your neck, and they still reach down past your waist? Anyway, I had that, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever want to wear it, but I also had this box of amber that Honeysuckle gave us as a wedding present, so I thought, why not combine the two of them? So I had the amber made into beads and then strung them and the pearls into bracelets. I think they turned out pretty well.”

“They certainly did,” Pyrrha agreed. “And such a great way of using the two gifts.”

“Maybe you should become a jeweller,” Kendal suggested.

“That might be less stressful,” Terra replied. “But I’m not sure that we could afford our brownstone in Argus on what I’d make selling artisan jewellery.”

“What is it that you do, if you don’t mind me asking?” asked Pyrrha.

“I’m a technician on the CCT relay in the city,” Terra answered.

“You’re an Atlesian soldier?”

“No, I’m a civilian contractor working for the military,” Terra said. She smiled and held out her hand. “Now, shall we go dazzle our Arcs together?”

Kendal snorted and stepped out a little in front of the other two, while Pyrrha stepped forward. She reached out and placed her gloved hand into Terra’s open palm, feeling the other woman’s fingers close around it.

Thus, hand in hand, they followed Kendal down the corridor to the top of the stairs. And then, although the volume of Pyrrha’s gown meant that Terra had to walk on the step in front of her, rather than side by side, they descended slowly, each step revealing a little more of themselves to those below.

Jaune and Saphron — along with Kendal, who had descended the stairs first — were waiting for them in the dining room. Saphron was wearing an orange dress with a scallop neckline and a daffodil print pattern on it, while Jaune…

Jaune was wearing a gold suit. The jacket and the trousers alike were both equally gold, and they must have been made out of a similar material to Terra’s dress, because it shimmered and almost seemed to sparkle in the dining room lights. His shoes were black, and his bowtie and gloves were white, but his waistcoat and dress shirt were both a pale gold, much the same shade as Pyrrha’s inner skirt.

He was very bright, very shiny, and not at all what Pyrrha had expected.

He also looked rather wonderful. Pyrrha had sometimes wondered why men’s suits in Atlas and Vale had to be so conservative — an especial irony in the case of Vale, which had fought the greatest war in the history of mankind for the right to be colourful. In Mistral, men felt no shame in making parrots and peacocks of themselves, with togas and other garments in an array of colourful hues, and those that did not do so tended to be making rather obscure points by it, like wearing black to ostentatiously mourn the passing of traditional virtues.

She just hoped that Jaune hadn’t done this for her sake; she didn’t want him to feel as though he had to conform to her culture.

But other than that niggling fear, she liked it. She liked it very much indeed.

She liked it so much that she found herself staring, even as Terra moved to join Saphron, who greeted her with a loving kiss.

Fortunately, Jaune was staring too, so if it looked odd or awkward, then at least they were odd or awkward together.

Jaune’s mouth opened, but it took a little time after that for him to speak. In fact, he wasn’t quite able to speak, a string of sounds emerged from her mouth but did not rise to the level of actual words.

Nevertheless, Pyrrha felt a flush of colour rise to her cheeks. “Thank you,” she murmured as she walked towards him, reaching out with one gloved hand to take his hand in hers. “You look very wonderful yourself.”

“Really?” Jaune yelped in surprise, and to Pyrrha’s surprise, Kendal said the exact same thing at the exact same time.

Pyrrha looked at her. “Is this what you thought might embarrass me?”

Kendal shrugged. “Well … he is very—”

“Dazzling,” Pyrrha finished for her, while standing up on her toes to give Jaune a kiss on the cheek, to show that she meant no insult by it. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Jaune looked down at her, his face very red and his eyes very bright, courtesy of the beaming smile upon his face. He looked down upon her and, with his free hand, reached out and cupped her face.

Then he bent down to her and gave her far more than just a kiss on the cheek.

Pyrrha took a deep breath when the kiss was done, her bosom heaving a little. She caught the amused looks on the face of Saphron and Terra — they were not being at all subtle about it — and smiled sheepishly.

“Shall we head out and join the party?” Saphron suggested.

“Yeah,” Jaune agreed, and Saphron and Terra led the way, heading out of the dining room towards the back of the house, and thence outwards into the back garden. Kendal followed, grinning at Jaune over her shoulder as she went, and then Jaune and Pyrrha went last.

Jaune offered Pyrrha the crook of his arm, which she accepted with a smile, slipping her hand into it and placing it gently upon his elbow.

“You know, you don’t have to pretend to like the suit if you don’t want to,” he murmured.

“I’m not pretending,” Pyrrha insisted. “I love it. Why would you think I wouldn’t?”

“Well, I mean … it’s not a normal colour,” Jaune pointed out.

“That depends on where in Remnant you are,” Pyrrha reminded him. “And anyway, even if it wasn’t normal, what of that? Gold suits you.”

“It does?”

“It’s the colour of your aura, the colour of your soul itself,” Pyrrha said. “How could it not suit you?”

Jaune chuckled and held up his other hand for a moment as he activated his semblance. His hand was wreathed in a gold which, while undoubtedly lighter, was not a million miles away from the suit jacket he was wearing.

His semblance died down, and Jaune lowered his hand again. “You look beautiful,” he said.

“I’m glad,” Pyrrha murmured. She paused for a moment. “But Jaune … if you didn’t think that suit was proper to wear, then why did you wear it? And where did you get it? I didn’t know you had anything like that.”

Jaune laughed nervously, although Pyrrha couldn’t yet work out why. “Well, you see … this suit … it’s actually my Dad’s suit. As a matter of fact, it’s the suit he wore on his wedding day, if you can believe it.”

Pyrrha stared at him, her green eyes widening. The suit that your father wore on his wedding day?

Jaune’s father’s wedding suit. The suit that Gold Arc had married in. And now, Jaune was wearing it, to escort her.

Oh, Jaune.

Pyrrha felt her heart begin to beat just a little faster. She wrapped both hands around Jaune’s elbow and leaned against him as a blissfully contented smile settled on her face.

“Uh, Pyrrha?” Jaune asked, surprised. “Pyrrha, are you…?” He trailed off and did not protest.

Judging by the way that he bent his head and kissed her on top of the head, Pyrrha would say he rather liked it.

They emerged out of the house and into the garden, which was illuminated by strings of white lights stretched between the trees, so that it was almost as if the stars themselves had descended from the skies to provide greater illumination for the Arc family.

There were a great many people already in attendance, men in suits and women in dresses, gathered either around the long wooden buffet tables that groaned under the weight of all the food on offer, or at the bar, where a young man in a plaid shirt was serving champagne.

Rouge was wearing a fiery red dress that trailed behind her on the grass as she greeted and directed people, sometimes shaking hands and sometimes gesturing this way or that. River sat upon a makeshift stage in a sky blue dress, playing the violin; Chester sat beside her in a white suit with no tie, playing the flute; the music was soft, gentle and inviting, not music to dance to, but music to set the ambience while everyone arrived. Aoko was wearing a suit of plum purple and getting the knees dirty as she knelt upon the ground, tinkering with a pair of giant speakers. Rueben wore all black and stalked around the edges of the party with a champagne glass in his hand.

The only members of the Arc family that Pyrrha couldn’t see were Sky and, of course, Gold and Honeysuckle Arc, who would, of course, be the last to arrive.

“Your family has done well,” Pyrrha remarked.

“My sisters do know how to throw a party,” Jaune replied. “Would you like something to drink?”

Pyrrha thought for a moment. “Alright,” she said, “I suppose…” She caught sight of someone else amidst the crowd, someone standing alone in that same crowd, someone whom the crowd moved around without really seeming to notice. “Miranda?”

Miranda Wells was also wearing black, a dress of black velvet with a slight glossiness to it that seemed to reflect back a little of the light that fell on it. The dress embraced her, hugging her curves and then falling straight down to the ground around her. It had an illusive neckline, and her sleeves were likewise made up of that same almost sheer fabric, as if she were wearing tights upon her arms. Her hair was loose and fell down around and behind her head.

She had been glancing downwards at the ground, but at the sound of Pyrrha’s voice, she looked up. “Jaune?” she said. “Pyrrha?” She moved towards them, squeezing in between people, murmuring her apologies as she got in the way, coming closer until she stood in front of them. “Hey,” she said. “I heard you were back in town.”

“We…” Jaune trailed off. “I should have come and visited you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Miranda said.

“Is it?” Jaune asked sceptically.

“Yes,” Miranda repeated. “I … you’re here for your Dad’s birthday, right? You don’t need to … you didn’t need to come.”

“Okay,” Jaune murmured, not sounding entirely convinced. “I’m a little surprised to see you here.”

“I can’t shut myself up in my room forever, can I?” Miranda replied. “And besides, if I didn’t show for just a little bit, that would be just rude, wouldn’t it? So, Jaune, how’s it been, coming back home? Have they tried to get you to stay yet?”

“On the very first night I was back,” Jaune said.

Miranda smiled, though it was a sad smile that did not quite reach her eyes. “Did it work? Is Pyrrha going back to Beacon by herself?”

“Pfft, no!” Jaune cried. “Like I would ever agree to that.”

“Don’t give me that ‘pfft,’ Jaune Arc; we both know full well that you never used to stand up to your mother or your sisters,” Miranda declared. She glanced at Pyrrha. “Did he stand up to them?”

Pyrrha nodded. “With immense dignity.”

“Dignity, now that’s not a word I thought I’d hear associated with Jaune Arc,” Miranda replied. “I guess Beacon really did bring out a whole new side of you. And you brought Pyrrha back home with you.” To Pyrrha, she asked, “How are you finding our little town? How are you finding the little minds of our little town?”

“It was a difficult start, I admit,” Pyrrha murmured. “But it turned around very quickly.”

Miranda fell silent for a moment. “I heard you killed that grimm,” she said, “the one that trashed the McKinley place.”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said softly. “We did.”

Miranda closed her eyes. “I thought that … I thought that here would be one place they wouldn’t come,” she muttered. She opened her eyes again. “Do you think there’ll be more?”

“No,” Jaune said at once.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because they don’t come around here,” Jaune said. “It’s … it’s just a fluke, that’s all. It’s nothing to worry about. It happened, we took care of it, doesn’t mean it will happen again.”

“I hope you’re right,” Miranda whispered. “I really hope you’re right.”

Jaune’s brow furrowed. “Are you planning to stay here forever? Or might you leave again, when you feel a little … better?”

“I don’t know,” Miranda admitted. “My mom is determined to keep me here — she doesn’t trust me not to leave again — but … being here has kind of reminded me of why I left in the first place. Technically, college has finished classes right now, and I got a message from one of my professors reminding me that I can have my place back if I want it, but … going back to Vale…”

“I know it’s scary,” Jaune said, “but you can’t be ruled by fear. You can’t let it control you. You especially can’t let it curb your life, make you settle for less than what you want out of it.”

Miranda was silent for a moment. “When did you start to sound so smart?” she asked.

Jaune didn’t answer that, or rather was prevented from answering that by a great cheer from the crowd as Gold and Honeysuckle Arc emerged to join the party. Jaune and Pyrrha — and Miranda too — joined in the applause as Gold made his way, waving to people as he went up onto the stage, where River and Chester played a few last flourishing notes upon their instruments and then fell silent.

There was a microphone up on stage, and Gold stood in front of it, one hand shoved into his pockets.

He leaned forwards a little as he began to speak. “I know that a lot of you are only here for the free drinks, so I’ll make this quick,” he said, garnering some laughter that swept across the crowd in a gentle wave of chuckling. “First of all, I want to thank my family … I want to thank my family for everything; you really make it worthwhile, growing old so I can spend more time with you; everyone, please, give it up, for my wonderful wife, my beautiful and talented daughters, and my brave son, Jaune, huntsman in training, home from Beacon; I couldn’t be prouder; please, join me, put your hands together for all of them.”

Jaune did not applaud. As the guests began to applaud, he looked as though he could hardly believe that some share in that applause was for him. His hands hung limp by his sides, his eyes a little wide, a stunned look on his face as though he had been struck over the head.

But Pyrrha applauded, she clapped her hands together vigorously, and as she did so, she gave Jaune a little nudge with her elbow to remind him, in case he forgot or convinced himself otherwise, that she was applauding him.

Congratulations, Jaune; you deserve this.

“But more particularly,” Gold went on, as the applause began to die down, “I would like to thank my family for putting together this party, for all of this food, for the music, for making sure that we can have a great time. And thank you, all of you, whoever the hell you are.” More laughter rang through the crowd. “Thank you all for coming; it’s great to see so many friends here, come to—”

He was cut off by the sound of a police siren. Pyrrha turned around, as indeed did almost everyone else, to see a police car, with a crest on it that Pyrrha could not really make out in the darkness, driving up towards the party with its lights flashing. The siren had only wailed for a brief time, but as the police car approached, the siren whooped again for a few seconds.

The car pulled up on the outskirts of the party, and Sky got out, dressed in her sheriff’s uniform and holding a red bullhorn in one hand. She spoke into the bullhorn, her voice echoing out across the crowd.

“I’m really sorry, folks,” Sky said, “but I’m going to have to break up this party; this is an illegal gathering, in violation of town law.” As she spoke, Pyrrha spotted Rouge and Kendal making their way towards Sky’s car. She thought that they might be going to speak to her, to plead with her, but instead, they ignored her, walking around behind her to the back of the car.

“What law?” Gold demanded.

Rouge opened the door behind Sky and bent inside.

“The law,” Sky said, “against having a birthday party without a cake!” As she spoke, Rouge emerged, carrying an enormous three-tiered birthday cake, covered in layers of icing of all the different colours of the rainbow, with fizzing sparklers set in the upper tiers, crackling as they spat off colourful sparks. Rouge staggered a little under the weight, and Kendal rushed to help her support it.

The crowd cheered as they began to carry the cake towards the buffet table, the gathered guests parting to give them an easier way there.

“Happy birthday, Dad!” Sky shouted through the bullhorn, prompting another cheer from the assembled revellers.

Gold laughed. “And that’s why the first thing I did was thank my children,” he said. “Now, who wants to dance?”

The crowd began to clear a space on the green as River and Chester took up their instruments again. There was a moment of pause, then River nodded, and she and her husband began to play a slow waltz.

Gold jumped down off the stage and held out his hand towards his wife. Honeysuckle joined him, placing her hand in his and allowing him to take her in hold. They began to sway across the grass, locked in an embrace, and to Pyrrha’s eyes, it looked less as though Gold were leading the way and more that they both knew the steps so very well that they could move in perfect synchronisation with each other.

For a moment, no one else danced. Pyrrha wondered why, if perhaps people were leaving the first dance for Gold and Honeysuckle alone, but then she followed Jaune’s gaze towards where Rouge stood at the edge of the green dancefloor, alone, hands clasped in front of her.

Pyrrha noticed that others were looking at Rouge as well; they were waiting for her to be the next to dance.

But Rueben stood apart and made no move to dance with her.

Pyrrha could not help but feel a swell of contempt for the man. What could compel him to treat his own wife thus?

Jaune frowned, then swallowed, then turned to Pyrrha. “Would you like to dance?” he asked.

Pyrrha blinked. “I would … are you sure? Rouge—”

“The quicker that other people start dancing, the quicker people will stop looking at her,” Jaune said. “Plus … I want to, don’t you?”

Pyrrha beamed. “I would love to,” she replied.

And so, Jaune took her hand and put his other hand upon her waist, and the feeling of his fingers pressed against her so made Pyrrha’s heart flutter.

And then he pressed her close against him and swept her out onto the dance floor.

It was a wonderful night. Anything else would simply be verbiage around that one point: it was a wonderful night. Every dance she danced with Jaune — and she danced many dances with Jaune that night — was wonderful. His gold suit sparkled under the lights strung up above them so that he seemed at times to be less a man and more some kind of ethereal being that had decided to bless her with his presence. Pyrrha had told Kendal that she could not imagine he would do anything to embarrass her, and he held her so gently that she could not believe he would do anything to hurt her either.

She danced with other men that night, as Jaune danced with other women; he danced with Miranda once or twice, the only one who asked her to dance; he danced with Kendal and with Rouge and with his mother too. And Pyrrha danced with other men; other men asked her to dance, which Pyrrha found incredible until she remembered that, of course, they had no idea that they were not supposed to ask, no clue that she was Pyrrha Nikos, placed upon a pedestal so high above them that even to think of asking was gross presumption. And when Jaune was otherwise engaged, she accepted their offers, although none of them danced so well as Jaune did.

Although she had to admit that Gold Arc danced well; he approached her when Jaune was dancing with his mother and seemed a little embarrassed to ask as though he expected her to refuse, just as he seemed surprised when she accepted. He did not press her close against him, as he had his wife, but he knew his steps well, and his burgeoning waistline belied a lightness on his feet.

The other men of Alba Longa … some of them were enthusiastic, some of them had some skill, but none of them were Jaune, and always to Jaune she returned, time after time.

It was a wonderful night, with a wonderful conclusion. As the night drew to a close, someone set up a camera — not a camera on their scroll but a real camera — upon a tripod, and in front of the camera — everyone who hadn’t gone home yet making space for them — the Arcs gathered for a family photograph of the night.

Pyrrha stood back and watched as Jaune joined the gathering, his parents, his sisters, his brothers-in-law, all trying to sort themselves out or be sorted out by the photographer. She waited, watching from the sidelines, hands clasped together, a fond smile upon her face.

“Hey, Pyrrha!” Kendal yelled. “What are you standing over there for? Get over here!”

Pyrrha gasped. “But … but I … I mean, this is a family photograph.”

“Exactly,” Sky said, “but you’re out of frame.”

It took a moment for Pyrrha to comprehend, to accept, what they were saying, but when she did … when she did, she ran over there with unseemly haste, almost forgetting to lift up the hem of her gown so she did not trip over it as she dashed to join the others.

“It’s a pity not to capture that gorgeous dress,” Rouge said. “But you’re almost as tall as Jaune, so you’ll have to stand at the back.”

“Maybe you can get a picture of just the two of you afterwards,” River suggested. “One you can keep for yourselves.”

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” Pyrrha said. “But right now, I’m happy to stand wherever you want me.”

Because she would be standing in the frame, she would be captured in the photograph.

As Pyrrha took her place next to Jaune in the back row, her face and head visible over the smaller Arcs, even if none of the rest of her was, the smile on her face could not have been any brighter.

Because she was part of his family.

Author's Note:

Both of these pictures were done by the incredibly talented Tiffany Marsou, who not only illustrated but also designed Pyrrha's dress.

This is the last chapter of the Jaune and Pyrrha arc and it is also the last chapter for three weeks. I found writing the next couple of chapters very hard and so I need the break to build the backlog back up. The next chapter will be posted Monday August 29th

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