SAPR

by Scipio Smith

Feeling Feelings (New)

Feeling Feelings

“So,” Pyrrha asked, “have you found out anything interesting so far?”

Sunset smiled at her. “I’m surprised you’re interested, to be honest. I thought you didn’t care.”

Pyrrha chuckled. “I don’t need Jaune to be a lord or … the lost heir to the throne of Vale in order to love him,” she said, wrapping her hands around Jaune’s arm as she spoke. “But if you’ve found out anything — anything at all — interesting about Jaune’s background … how could I not be interested to know?”

Sunset, Jaune, and Pyrrha were sitting on the porch of the Arc family home, shielded from the sun by the overhanging veranda. Jaune and Pyrrha sat together upon a porch swing, held up by chains attached to the roof above, swaying gently back and forth as they both looked at Sunset. Sunset, for her part, had to be content with a rocking chair, which she was struggling to control; she didn’t want to rock back and forth, but she couldn’t get the thing to stay completely still. She was going to have to stand up at this rate.

Sunset nodded, rocking forwards a little as she did so. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, but I haven’t found anything yet, and honestly, I don’t have much hope of finding anything here.” She glanced at Jaune. “Something that I suspect you knew before I came down here.”

“I told you—”

“You told me you didn’t know anything,” Sunset preemptively corrected him. “You didn’t tell me that there was nothing to find, that there was deliberately nothing to find.”

“'Deliberately'?” Pyrrha repeated. “What do you mean?”

Jaune shrugged. “There … there is nothing before my great-great-grandfather and the founding of the town. Everything before that is…”

“Non-existent,” Sunset said. “And, it seems, purposefully so.”

Pyrrha frowned. “I … I don’t understand. You’re suggesting that—”

“Nobody set out to lie or keep anything secret,” Jaune said.

Well, I don’t know about that, Sunset said, thinking about Crown D’Eath and Carrot Arc.

“But,” Jaune went on, “people, my ancestors, the folks who founded this town … it seems like they wanted a fresh start. They didn’t want whatever they had been before to follow them here. They only wanted the futures that they would make for themselves. So … they didn’t talk about their pasts. At all. My great-great-grandfather might as well have sprung up out of the ground fully-formed. About the only thing that he had that tied him to his past was Crocea Mors … and I broke it.”

He looked down into his lap, as though the shards of the sword could be found there.

“I’m not sure a man who denied his past and talked about the future belonging to him would care about the breaking of an old antique,” Sunset murmured. “He’d probably tell you to get on with forging it anew and make something that you could carry into the future that belonged to you.”

Jaune looked up at her. “You think so?”

“I didn’t know the man,” Sunset admitted, “but it seems like him. And I didn’t know your grandfather either, but … Sky told me his story. How he couldn’t save his Mistralian love. I think, I hope, that if he were here, he’d tell you to be glad you had a broken sword and a living girlfriend, instead of the other way around.”

He did not look at her, but Jaune’s right hand reached up and touched Pyrrha’s hand where she held his arm.

“You’re right,” Jaune said. “That is what he’d say. I hope that's what he’d say. I didn’t actually know my grandpa very well; he was … I looked up to him, he was the kind of hero that I wanted to become, but at the same time … he scared me a little bit. I was afraid to try and get too close to him because … because I didn’t think I measured up.” He paused. “I…”

“Don’t say it,” Pyrrha told him.

Jaune looked at her. “Huh?”

“At some point this year, you’ve saved all three of our lives,” Pyrrha said. “Ruby and Sunset by healing their injuries, mine by giving me breathing room against Cinder when I needed it. Without you … if that isn’t something to be proud of, to set against the noble deeds of your ancestors, then I know not what is.” She paused. “But, I must say, I am surprised by what you’ve told me about your lack of family history. I suppose it doesn’t matter. I know it doesn’t matter. But at the same time, I must admit that I am baffled by the decision of your great-great-grandfather. I can’t imagine not drawing strength from the example of those who came before you; not only that, but denying those who come after the opportunity to do the same. It’s … vandalism.”

“My family isn’t yours, Pyrrha,” Jaune reminded her. “It might not be that there was much of anything to remember.”

It might be darker than that, Sunset thought, but did not give voice to the thought. It hardly seemed the time or the place to suggest such a thing, in the midst of Jaune’s own home, when Jaune and Pyrrha had had a good time here so far. No, not the time or the place at all.

“I suppose so,” Pyrrha murmured, “but this goes beyond forgetting, as might happen, and into wilful neglect, and that … it is a mystery to me that someone would wish to go to such lengths to erase their family history.” She glanced at Sunset. “What will you do now? What will you tell my mother?”

“I will apologise to Lady Nikos and ask for more time,” Sunset told her.

“Time for what?” Pyrrha asked. “If there is nothing here—”

“It does not follow that there is nothing anywhere,” Sunset reminded her, “and I know for a fact that there is something elsewhere, because someone else has walked this path before me, in Jaune’s grandfather’s time.”

“Really?” Jaune asked. “What did they find?”

“If I knew that,” Sunset said, allowing just a touch of tartness to enter her tone, “I wouldn’t need to retrace their steps; it would just be there. I know that they found something, and that it excited them, but I don’t know what it was.”

“It seems odd that their reaction survives, but not the discovery that prompted it,” Pyrrha pointed out.

That was very true, but to avoid saying that Jaune’s grandfather had fought to have the discovery covered up, Sunset simply said, “These things happen sometimes. Anyway,” she said, leaning forwards — and then rocking backwards so far her feet left the ground. “Oh, for Celestia’s—” Sunset leapt up and pushed the rocking chair backwards so that it didn’t get in her way. She moved around to stand directly in front of Jaune and Pyrrha, her gloved hands resting upon the wooden railing of the porch. She cleared her throat. “Anyway—” she began.

“Sunset, look out!” Jaune cried.

“What—?” Sunset looked around, wondering what had prompted his sudden cry, only to see a goat that had snuck up on her and was about to start chewing on her sleeve. “Ah!” Sunset cried, raising her arms above her head and sidling away from the animal. “No! Go away!”

The goat made a noise that sounded a lot like a staccato laugh and followed her, trying to stick its head through the bars of the porch rail to get at the edge of her jacket.

“Get you gone!” Sunset snapped. She pointed her fingers at it. “Go away right now, or I shall turn you into a newt, so help me! Go!”

A bolt of magic leapt from her fingertips to strike the ground just beside the goat, which turned and ran from the miniature explosion and the crater in the soil.

Sunset tugged upon her jacket with both hands. “I don’t know how you’ve survived this place, Pyrrha.”

Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand as she chuckled. “I’ve been very lucky, I suppose, that nothing like that has happened to me.”

“Lucky you indeed,” Sunset muttered. “But then, I was never much of a countryside girl.” She resumed her prior place leaning on the porch, half sitting upon it, facing Jaune and Pyrrha. “So,” she said, “as I was saying: how has it been?”

The two of them looked at one another, but neither said anything.

Sunset rolled her eyes. “Don’t everyone jump in at once.”

Pyrrha laughed. “I’m not sure what you want us to say, Sunset.”

“There must be something you can tell me!” Sunset cried. “What’s happened, how are they treating you, what’s it like—?”

“You can find that out for yourself when you meet everyone for dinner tonight,” Jaune said.

“Am I invited?”

“Yeah, you didn’t think we were just going to let you eat alone at the Moon, did you?”

“I hardly knew, you only invited me just now,” Sunset replied. “How’s the food?” she asked Pyrrha.

“Exquisite,” Pyrrha assured her. “Jaune gets his cooking skill from his mother, clearly.”

“Ooh,” Sunset murmured, a smile upon her face. “Got that to look forward to, then. I suppose none of them will be too surprised that I came up empty in my search.”

“None of them mentioned it when they found out you were coming,” Pyrrha said.

“Perhaps they didn’t think it was worth mentioning,” Sunset replied. “Anyone that I should … be wary of?”

“Why would you ask that?” asked Jaune.

“Because you said ‘nearly everyone’ before you corrected yourself,” Sunset reminded him, “and I want to know what that’s about.”

Jaune shifted uncomfortably upon the porch swing.

“Jaune’s brother-in-law, Ruben, has not always … been as courteous as one might like,” Pyrrha murmured. “He … it doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t it?” Sunset inquired. “What’s he said? What’s he done, for that matter?”

Now it was Pyrrha’s turn to fall silent, to refuse to speak; she looked at Jaune, but she did not answer Sunset’s question.

At least, not at first; it became clear watching her — watching her watching Jaune — that she was waiting for him to say something. When he did not, Pyrrha prompted him, “Jaune… did Ruben bully you when you were younger?”

Jaune took a few seconds to mumble, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so, a little bit.”

“And now?” Sunset asked.

“He delights in attempting to put Jaune down and seems pained by any acknowledgement of Jaune’s accomplishment or skill,” Pyrrha said. “The saving grace being that so many in this house seem to find him impossible to bear. I must confess, I do wonder why Rouge ever married him. There seems … little affection between the two of them.”

Jaune sighed. “Ruben … Ruben’s dad works for my Dad. He runs the farm for Dad; he works our land. So our families have always been close. Ruben was always around. He was older than me, he was bigger and stronger than me … he was more of a man than I was. Dad … needed someone to take over the estate from him, and it was clear that I wasn’t going to cut it … Ruben … made sense.”

“So he married the eldest daughter to seal the deal?” Sunset asked. “That sounds about as old-fashioned as anything that might go on in Mistral.”

“Such a match as my mother might have wished and intended,” Pyrrha said softly, “but I had the freedom to say no. Had Rouge—”

“I don’t know what Rouge thought,” Jaune admitted. “I was too young to know. Maybe she did love him once. I don’t know. I’m not sure that we should be talking about it — about her — like this.”

“Yes, of course, this is most improper,” Pyrrha said. “Forgive me.”

He smiled at her. “It’s okay. I just… let’s just leave it there. Ruben can be a bit of a jerk sometimes, but he’s harmless, and he has been good to this family, mostly. Just … he might say something at dinner, but … try not to flip out on him, okay?”

Sunset’s eyes narrowed. “What’s he likely to say that I should ‘flip out’?”

“I don’t know,” Jaune admitted. “But you can sometimes … fly off the handle about things.”

“I do not fly off the handle; I get righteously angry at things that it is righteous to be angry about,” Sunset insisted. “If he feels my anger, it will be because he gave me cause.”

“I’d still rather he didn’t,” Jaune said. “Considering that this is my home, and my family.”

“I’m not going to promise to just sit there and take everything,” Sunset declared.

“You would if Lady Nikos asked you to,” Jaune pointed out.

Sunset folded her arms. “Lady Nikos,” she said, “would understand that there are some insults that I should not be asked to put up with.” She paused. “But, as this is your home, and your family, and as we do wish Pyrrha to make a good impression … I will endeavour to show a greater than usual restraint … up to a point.”

“Thanks,” Jaune said. “I mean that. Whatever else he is, he’s still my brother-in-law, after all.”

“Thank you, Sunset,” Pyrrha agreed.

“You’re welcome,” Sunset said. “How long are you two planning on staying here, by the way?”

“How about you?” Jaune asked.

“I don’t see much point in hanging around,” Sunset told him. “As I said, there’s nothing to learn here, intentionally so. Although, having said that, I will say that there’s a lot to be proud of in the ancestors that you do know about. They were impressive people, wherever your great-great-grandfather came from.”

“Maybe you can tell me more about them,” Pyrrha suggested to Jaune.

“Uh, yeah, maybe,” Jaune agreed. “I wasn’t sure you’d be interested.”

“And what in Remnant would make you think that I wouldn’t be interested in your family history?” Pyrrha asked.

“That’s a good point,” Jaune conceded. “But, to get back to it, I think we’ll probably go back with you. My Dad’s party is over; that’s why we came back, we can’t hang around here forever. I’ll tell Mom and Dad that we’re leaving tomorrow.”

Sunset nodded. “Okay, then,” she said. “That’s good to hear. When we get back, you should look at getting your sword reforged. Any ideas?”

Jaune shook his head. “Not really?”

“Never mind, I’m sure that Ruby will have a few,” Sunset said. She blinked. “Seriously, there’s nothing you can tell me? What have you been doing here for the last few days?”

“There really isn’t much to tell,” Jaune insisted. “I worked things out with my folks and my sisters, Pyrrha … everybody got on board with Pyrrha and I being together in the end—”

“Almost everybody,” Sunset corrected him.

Jaune laughed lightly. “Yeah, okay, almost everybody,” he admitted. “I found out that one of my sisters is having a baby…”

“I met Jaune’s nephew,” Pyrrha added. “He’s very cute.”

“Is he now?” Sunset murmured.

She’d never really had time for children. Princess Celestia had tried to get her to do some foalsitting like Cadance, but aside from the fact that Sunset wasn’t really interested in doing anything that precious Princess Cadance had done first — she was her own mare; she followed in nopony’s footsteps — there was also the fact that she just hadn’t really liked fillies and colts. They were demanding, they were noisy, they didn’t do as they were told, and if you made them, then everypony acted as though you were the problem. She’d tried it once, for Princess Celestia’s sake, and … while she hadn’t done a bad job on purpose, she hadn’t been sorry to not be asked back.

It didn’t seem as though Pyrrha had had that problem.

“Yes, he is,” Pyrrha said. She paused for a moment. “So, you’re not planning to do any more work this afternoon?”

“Is there any more work for me to do?” Sunset replied. “I’d do it, if I thought that I’d find anything, but it seems as though this town was intentionally constructed as a dead end for this investigation.”

“Then, will you excuse us for a little while, Jaune?” Pyrrha asked.

Jaune looked surprised. “Yeah, sure, but why?”

“It seems that this might be a good opportunity to start training Sunset’s semblance,” Pyrrha explained. “Where nothing is going to come up and get in the way.”

“Well … that’s true enough, I suppose, but here?” Sunset asked. “Are you sure that you wouldn’t rather that I excused the two of you?”

“It’s fine,” Jaune assured her. “I’ve had Pyrrha almost all to myself since we got here.”

Pyrrha smiled and leaned forwards to kiss him on the cheek. “We won’t be long,” she assured him as she got to her feet, smoothing her skirt out with both hands.

“Are you expecting me to pick this up quickly?” Sunset asked.

“No, but there’s no point in overdoing things on the first lesson,” Pyrrha replied. “Since you won’t master everything right away, why try to force yourself?”

“I suppose,” Sunset muttered. She preferred to force herself, to drive herself hard, but it takes two to teach a lesson, and if Pyrrha wanted to take a more relaxed, Celestia-like approach to instruction, then Sunset was in little position to contradict her on the point.

Especially since Pyrrha was doing her a favour here, and even moreso, given where they were now.

“We’ll use Kendal’s room; I don’t think that she’s in there,” Pyrrha said, as she turned to lead the way inside the house. Her feet were hidden beneath her full-length skirt, but Sunset could hear her heels tapping upon the wooden boards regardless.

Sunset followed her inside the house, trailing behind her down a wooden corridor and into a dining room, where the table was bare and not set for any meal. Upon one of the walls was an array of photographs, all of them framed in varnished wood, and Sunset found herself drawn to the wall, to the picture of multitudinous Arcs who grew up before her eyes from little girls to grown women. Her eyes lingered for a moment upon a picture of Team SAPR and Blake, standing together in front of the Emerald Tower of Beacon, arms linked together across one another’s shoulders, leaning in and smiling.

You could tell that this had been taken before Mountain Glenn because they were all smiling.

But Jaune and Pyrrha, at least, could still smile so brightly now, she thought; could Blake? Could Ruby? Was it only her who could not?

I can smile.

But can I smile like that? I know not.

Pyrrha turned at the foot of the stairs to see Sunset lingering, looking at the pictures. She, herself, drifted back to Sunset’s side.

“That one was taken at Mister Arc’s birthday party,” she said, pointing to a picture set about two thirds of the way up the wall.

Sunset’s eyes followed Pyrrha’s outstretched hand and pointed finger. She was pointing to a picture of a large group, mostly women, all gathered around a middle-aged pair that she took to be Jaune’s parents. Both had gone a little plump with age, a little soft around the middle, but in neither case egregiously so. His suit and her dress still fit them very well.

A gaggle of women — Jaune’s sisters, clearly — stood grouped around the parental couple, some of them leaning in to get in frame, some of them half-doubled over to make sure that everyone could be seen. Jaune, by contrast, was standing near the back, and so was Pyrrha, who was wearing the most delighted smile upon her face that it popped out of the picture and the frame to illuminate the room.

Sunset found herself smiling too. “You look like you were having a good time.”

“I hadn’t expected to be asked,” Pyrrha admitted. “To join the picture, I mean. Chester and Ruben are married to River and Rouge but I’m just—”

“The love of his life?” Sunset suggested.

“His girlfriend,” Pyrrha replied. “Jaune could dump me tomorrow—”

“But he won’t, because you’re the love of his life,” Sunset reminded her, “and I’m guessing they invited you to join their picture because they recognise that too. That, and it seems that you made a good impression.” She grinned. “You really did well here, didn’t you?”

“I…” Pyrrha hesitated, a blush rising to her cheeks. “I think that to a certain extent, I … disapproved of Jaune’s parents more than they disapproved of me.”

“Why?” Sunset asked. “Are they crude and boorish?”

“No,” Pyrrha said quickly. “Not that, for the fact that they allowed Jaune to come to Beacon so completely unprepared, without his aura unlocked.”

“Oh, right, that,” Sunset said. “From what I understand, that word ‘allowed’ is doing some significant heavy lifting, I must say.”

“You know what I mean,” Pyrrha said. “If Jaune had been trained—”

“If Jaune had been trained, you wouldn’t have had to save his life,” Sunset pointed out. “If Jaune had been trained … think about how he acted when he came to Beacon; if Jaune had been trained, he would have been Cardin Winchester without quite so much muscle. Arrogant, full of himself, jealous of anyone who threatened his sense of superiority.” She paused. “So, me, basically, without my stunning good looks.” She patted her long, fiery hair with one hand.

Pyrrha laughed. “Even so, grateful as I am, much as I love him … if, by giving him up, I could give him all the strength he needed to achieve his dreams, then I would do it.”

“Always assuming, of course, that you have not become his new dream,” Sunset pointed out.

Sunset wouldn’t have thought it was possible, but Pyrrha became even redder in the face. “I… I am so very lucky. I don’t know how I did it.”

“Arc men fall hard and fast, it seems,” Sunset replied.

“You’re talking about his ancestors?”

“I read a little about Jaune’s grandfather. He fell for a beautiful Mistralian student as well.”

“Really?” Pyrrha asked. “What happened? Did they live … happily ever after?”

“Uh … no,” Sunset admitted, rather wishing now that she hadn’t brought the subject up. “She … she died, in the line of duty.”

What an odd phrase that, ‘in the line of duty.’ It is used as though it should ameliorate sorrow. They died, but in the line of duty, so that makes it alright. That makes it better than an ordinary death. That makes it bearable, tolerable, not so worth being sad over.

I wonder if that’s ever worked? I wonder if it has ever truly ameliorated. ‘In the line of duty, you say? Well, why didn’t you say so before; I shall stop crying at once.’ And yes, I know that’s an exaggeration, but even so. Has it ever really made anyone feel better, to know that their loved one died in the line of duty?

Ruby, possibly.

Even so, a strange phrase.

“Sunset?” Pyrrha asked.

“Mmm?” Sunset replied. “Sorry, did I space out there?”

“For a second, yes,” Pyrrha said. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” Sunset said quickly. “Yes, everything’s fine, I …” She looked at the picture again. “Is Jaune wearing a gold suit?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said, a smile playing across her lips. Not a smile of mockery at Jaune’s embarrassment, a genuine smile, bright and lustrous. “Doesn’t he look handsome in it?”

“I can hardly tell, the way that his height has forced him to the back of the shot,” Sunset murmured. “And anyway, it’s gold.”

“And what of that?” Pyrrha asked. “Why shouldn’t he wear a gold suit?”

“Because…” Sunset trailed off.

It was true that, in Equestria, nopony would dream of wearing such a thing — bright colours were the province of mares; stallions were expected to be far more drab and conservative in their attire — but this was not Equestria. Yet, at the same time, she had observed that much the same standards applied here in Remnant, at least in the kingdoms that she had … well, in Vale and Atlas at least; in Mistral … it varied, although even there, Valish and Atlesian styles and the accompanying lack of colour were making headway. But, faced with Pyrrha’s question, there was no actual reason why it should be so. No reason why Jaune should not wear a gold suit, if he wished.

“I…” Sunset shrugged. “I don’t know, really; I suppose that I was just surprised. I didn’t even know he had anything like that.”

“He doesn’t,” Pyrrha explained. “The suit belonged to Jaune’s father.” She leaned forwards to whisper conspiratorially in Sunset’s ear. “It was his wedding suit.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “Really? You are doing well, aren’t you? Was that deliberate?”

Pyrrha let out a sort of awkward, halting laugh. “I … I haven’t had the heart to ask. That probably had nothing to do with it, but … a girl can dream, can’t she?”

“You certainly can,” Sunset told her. “Although you scarcely need to. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if you told me that Jaune had proposed since I saw you both last.”

“Not quite,” Pyrrha said, with a little laugh. “Although we did find time to talk … about our future. Where we’ll live and what we’ll do and … children.”

“'Children'?” Sunset repeated. “You … you are truly fortunate, to have found a man who is willing to … to entertain such things so early. Who is not content, desirous even, merely to mess around, however you might wish for more.”

“I know,” Pyrrha said. “Believe me, I know.”

“One thing that I do regret,” Sunset said, glancing up at the photograph once again, “is that I can hardly see any of your dress with the way that you're in the back with Jaune, hidden behind his sisters.”

“It’s up in my room,” Pyrrha pointed out. “I can show you, if you like.”

“That would be nice, before you start trying to help me manage my semblance,” Sunset said.

“It’s up this way,” Pyrrha said, and once again, she turned from the pictures on the wall and left Sunset to follow her to and then up the stairs to the first floor of the house. A long corridor awaited them there, lined with doors, but Pyrrha did not lead Sunset very far along the corridor before stopping in front of a door proclaiming that this was Kendal’s room and that intruders should keep out.

Nevertheless, Pyrrha pushed open the door, revealing that there was, all things considered, very little need for privacy beyond the general desire for the same, considering how sparse the room was — although that might have simply been because it was so small. The bed on one side and the camp bed on the other took up most of the available space, and when you added in the desk facing the window … it was less of a room and more of a corridor between three points.

“Is this where you’ve been staying?” Sunset asked.

“Yes,” Pyrrha said. “Kendal has been very obliging.”

“I am amazed that you were able to get dressed into some of your gowns in here,” Sunset declared. “Where was the room?”

“I made do,” Pyrrha said.

“Couldn’t they have found you anywhere with a little more space to stay?”

“I think they thought that I would get on with Kendal,” Pyrrha replied, “and I have. She’s in the Survey Corps, so she was a little more welcoming than some of Jaune’s sisters, at first.”

“That is … a dangerous road to travel,” Sunset said. “Not least because there are no roads where she walks.” She paused. “In some ways, you might say that it is a more dangerous road than Jaune’s.”

“Or any of ours,” Pyrrha pointed out. “But yes, I take your meaning. We, at least, have weapons and training … and one another. And our semblances, once we have mastered them.”

Sunset laughed. “I’m not stalling, I assure you,” she insisted. “Although I will stall for just a mite longer and point out that you promised to show me your dress from the party.”

“So I did,” Pyrrha conceded. She turned towards the bed, upon which sat her case containing her clothes. She looked down, taking out the green dress that she had worn to come down here from Beacon. Sunset saw her frown down at the case. “That’s odd.”

“What?” Sunset asked. “Is something wrong?”

“Not wrong, precisely, but … my red dress and bolero, I can’t see it,” Pyrrha murmured.

“You do have a lot of dresses in there,” Sunset pointed out.

“I know, but it was near the top; I’m sure it was,” Pyrrha said, beginning to lift up the clothing in her case to peer underneath it. “And I can’t see it anywhere.”

“If someone has stolen some of your clothes, that seems a little more than nothing,” Sunset observed.

“I … I’m sure it will turn up somewhere,” Pyrrha said. “Perhaps I … misplaced it somewhere. In any case, it’s only a dress. Not worth making a fuss about. Anyway,” — she pulled a stunning gown of gold out of her case, holding it up in front of herself — “this is what I wore to the dance.”

Sunset’s eyes widened. “That … that is stunning,” she said as she took in all the flowers and pearls stitched into the bodice and the skirt. The way that they were sewn into the chest, in particular, they looked like they were bursting out of her.

Flowers springing from the grave.

Sunset blinked. Where had that thought come from? Too much thought of Delphi, the lost love of Carrot Arc, most like. An uncomfortable thought, a thought to be rid of.

“Sunset?” Pyrrha asked.

“I’m fine,” Sunset assured her. “I am … mine eyes are dazzled by the sight of your gown.”

Pyrrha smiled. “It is lovely, isn’t it? And it complemented Jaune’s suit so well, what a fortunate coincidence.”

“Fate smiled on you,” Sunset said. “Save that you do not believe in fate.”

“No,” Pyrrha murmured. “No, I do not.” She put the dress back, neatly, in such a way that it would not crease. “My destiny is in my choosing.”

She sat down upon the bed, moving her case a little to make room for her. She clasped her hands together, resting her elbows upon her knees, and sighed.

“What is the matter?” Sunset asked.

“Nothing,” she said. “Nothing is the matter.”

“Then why do you seem sad?” asked Sunset, squatting down upon the floor in front of Pyrrha. “Or rather, why does it suddenly seem as though all joy has left you?”

“My joy is still within my heart, I assure you,” Pyrrha said, “but the talk of fate and thence to destiny reminds me that…”

Sunset gave her a chance to say on, but she did not avail herself of it. “Reminds you what?” she prompted. “Reminds you of what, perhaps?”

“Reminds me that I am less certain in myself than once I was,” Pyrrha confessed. “I … do you remember the day of our duel, when we talked on the rooftop?”

Sunset nodded, and a smile pricked at the corners of her mouth. “We are none of us so young and certain as we were then.”

“No, indeed,” Pyrrha murmured. “But do you remember what I said to you, that day, about my … my destiny?”

Sunset snorted. “You meant to save the world.”

“To protect it, yes,” Pyrrha said. “It seems very arrogant to hear it repeated back at me thus, as proud as ever my mother was — more. It’s … it’s rather funny, really, that I have complained at the way that I am put upon a pedestal, but arguably, I have put myself upon the greatest pedestal of all: Pyrrha Nikos, defender of the world.”

“An ambition worthy of your royal race,” Sunset said.

“And what is my royal race worth, in this contest in which we are engaged?” Pyrrha asked of her. “I thought to protect the world as a huntress, but what is a huntress worth in this contest in which we are engaged? I have not your magic, nor Ruby’s eyes.”

“You have your spear—”

“And what is a spear against Salem?”

“What are any of our several powers against Salem? She is invulnerable, and just as invulnerable against my magic as against your weapons,” Sunset replied. “Professor Ozpin spoke with Ruby, on the day you left Vale for this place.”

Pyrrha nodded. “I know.”

“He told her—”

“Are you sure that you should be breaking this confidence to me?”

“Ruby will tell you all when you meet her next,” Sunset assured her.

“Nevertheless, is it not Ruby’s tale to tell?”

“I wish only to say one brief thing,” Sunset said, upon the verge of snapping but not quite doing so. She took pause. “Professor Ozpin despatched Team Stark against Salem directly. He thought, he hoped, that the silver eyes of Summer Rose, though they could not destroy Salem, might turn into stone and trap her harmlessly for all eternity. Suffice to say, it did not work.”

Pyrrha was silent a moment. “Ought this to bring me comfort?” she asked.

Sunset laughed, and Pyrrha laughed too, and for a moment, the sound of their laughter chased all thoughts of Salem and war and the great struggle in which they were engaged from this room, from Alba Longa, from the world in which they dwelt.

But then the laughter died, and all dark thoughts crowded in once more, despite the brightness of the day beyond, casting their shadows on the walls, shadows that reached for the two huntresses in the narrow room, laying their dark hands upon Pyrrha’s fair skin, running their fingers through Sunset’s fiery hair.

“No,” Sunset said. “No, it was not, merely to make you see … you have no need to be ashamed of what you are. You are no more inadequate to this task than any of us, than any of Professor Ozpin’s servants have ever been. You are yet a champion amongst us.” She paused. “Is it fear, then, that makes you sad?”

“No,” Pyrrha replied. “Although it does not help. No, if I could be certain of my destiny, then perhaps … no, I think I would yet … it is not the fear of whether I can fulfil my destiny, rather … I am uncertain if I now desire it.”

Sunset looked into Pyrrha’s vivid green eyes. “You … wish for something else?”

“I know not,” Pyrrha said. “Not for certain. Perhaps, I fear that it may be, I know it is, and I delight it is, I know not. I am … my heart is … I am adrift. Adrift, without so much as a light to guide me back to shore.”

“May I not be your light?” Sunset asked. “What is this doubt?”

Pyrrha smiled, thought it was a sad smile, touched by frost. She sighed. “What else,” she asked, “but Jaune? But love?”

“What else is love but the death of duty?” Sunset whispered.

“Perhaps the death of destiny,” Pyrrha suggested. “I did not expect, I never … coming to Beacon, I hoped for friendship, but this, but love? Wherefore should I have hoped for love, and yet, now love holds me prisoner; it chains me.”

“All prisoners should rejoice to be so chained,” Sunset pointed out.

“Indeed,” Pyrrha conceded. “Indeed, and yet … what if my love overbears my sense of duty? What if that prospect does not trouble me?”

“If it troubled you not, then we would not be having this conversation,” Sunset pointed out. “What would you have, if your heart could have its way?”

“I do not know!” Pyrrha cried. “If I knew that, then we would also not be having this conversation, no?”

Sunset let out a little bark of laughter. “Touché. Yet nevertheless … is it not the case that you want all and do not believe that you can possess it? Love and heroism—”

“And victory?” Pyrrha asked. “That, at least, we cannot have.”

“No,” admitted Sunset. “But then, that was always the most arrogant part of your ambitions.” She smiled, to show there was no malice in it. “Have you spoken to Jaune about this?”

“No.”

“Have you considered that you should?”

“I cannot.”

“Why not?”

“Because he is not so burdened,” Pyrrha declared. “If I told him that … if I confessed to him that … if he knew that a part of me would like nothing more than to surrender this struggle for a life with him … I don’t want him to think that I’m emotionally blackmailing him, playing upon his feelings to get that which I desire.”

Sunset stood up. “Is that what you desire? To leave?”

“Not very heroic, I know,” Pyrrha murmured. “Not worthy of the spirit of The Mistraliad. Ten thousand fates of death surround us which no man may escape or avoid, and yet … and yet, being away from this war, they will not come upon us near so swiftly. But, to your question … have we not established that I know not what I desire?”

“True,” Sunset answered. “That, at least, I will concede closes off other routes, but beyond that … you can be hero and lover both, can you not? Are you not already? Have Jaune and destiny. Your namesake had Camilla, after all; I do not see why you cannot have Jaune.”

Pyrrha looked at her. “All my foolish fears so simply resolved?”

“Not so simple if you decide that you want out,” Sunset replied. “But, for the rest, I see no reason why you cannot have it all. If any deserved to have all, after all, it is you. And any other choice … you will have to speak to Jaune about it. If you do not wish to speak to Jaune … keep as you are. Put fear and sadness and fate and destiny and all such weighty matters to one side.

“We may not be able to defeat Salem, but we have scotched her plans, thwarted her, and though it was not without cost … it will be some time before her shadow can fall on Vale again. Rainbow said so, and I think … I have come to think that she is right, or why else should we have time to visit with Jaune’s family, to amuse ourselves with the Vytal Festival? We have passed through our trial; let us speak, let us think, only good things today, and for many days hereafter.”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “Only good things,” she said.

“Even so,” Sunset said. “Good things … and wise things, touching upon semblance.”

“Indeed,” Pyrrha said, her voice lightening. “Indeed, I have not forgotten. Sit down.”

Sunset crouched down once more before her.

“A seat on the other bed might serve you better,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“On someone else’s bed?” Sunset asked. “No, I’ll be fine here.”

“Then you will also need to take off your gloves.”

Sunset frowned ever so slightly. “Are you going to have me … would you have me use my semblance on you?”

“Is there a better way to train than use?” Pyrrha asked. “If you touch me, then you will feel—”

“Feel as you do and see your memories,” Sunset said.

“Then what I want,” Pyrrha said, “is for you to try and find a specific memory. The memory … of the day that we arrived in Mistral. A memory that is also your memory will hopefully be easier to find.”

“Provided I don’t get mine and yours mixed up,” Sunset replied. “You … you trust me with this? To feel what you feel, to see what you have seen?”

“Do you not already feel what I feel?” Pyrrha asked. “Do I not unburden myself to you as to none other, not even Jaune?”

Sunset’s mouth opened and then closed again. “I … nevertheless, I am touched by your trust, and all for my sake too.”

She shrugged off her jacket, and her hands glowed with the green light of her magic as she telekinetically unbuckled her vambraces and lowered them down gently to the floor.

Then she pulled off her gloves and looked down at her bare hands.

Sunset looked at Pyrrha. “Are you sure that you want this?”

“What have I to be afraid of?” Pyrrha asked. “What secrets have I from you?”

I don’t know, but I have some from you, Sunset thought. I suppose I should be glad this process only works one way.

She took a deep breath, and then another. She looked at Pyrrha’s outstretched hands, held out to her as if in offered benediction.

She did not take them. She looked at them, but shrank from touching them.

Come on, it was always going to come to this sooner or later. This was what asking her to help you was going to involve.

Sunset reached out and placed her hands in Pyrrha’s palms. She felt a jolt of energy shoot through her, her vision was consumed by a bright light, and then—

She was in Kendal’s room again?

Yes. Yes, it was, this narrow room where too many beds took up too much space, with Pyrrha sitting on the camp bed—

And Sunset squatting on the floor opposite her.

Ah, okay. The memory closest to Pyrrha’s thoughts was all of seconds ago. Makes sense.

But I need to get somewhere else. Our arrival in Mistral … how did I do this with Cinder? I … I wanted to know. I wanted to know so badly what had driven her to lie to me, to betray me.

“Then why do you seem sad?” asked the memory of Sunset. “Or rather, why does it suddenly seem as though all joy has left you?”

But how can I feel curious about something that I remember myself? How do I feel curious about Pyrrha when I know her so well?

“My joy is still within my heart, I assure you,” Pyrrha said. “But the talk of fate and thence to destiny reminds me that…”

Sunset turned away, not needing to hear this again so soon, but she was unable to stop her ears against the words spoken by her memory-self. “Reminds you what? Reminds you of what, perhaps?”

“Reminds me that I am less certain in myself than once I was,” Pyrrha confessed. “I … do you remember the day of our duel, when we talked on the rooftop?”

The world changed. Kendal’s room dissolved, and in its place … there was the rooftop, at Beacon, a world away from Alba Longa, the narrow room replaced by the black roof with its view looking out across the expanse of Vale. Pyrrha had exchanged her dress for her cuirass of bronze and leather, for the greaves and cuisses that covered her legs. The wind flicked at her hair, and at Sunset’s too, as they sat together, with the sunlight bright upon them.

“Do you believe in destiny?”

This was a happy memory for Sunset, but from what she could feel from Pyrrha … she felt sadness. She could not think why this memory of this day should make her sad, but she could only imagine that all that had come after, the things that they had talked about in Kendal’s room, they had covered over whatever she had felt — and Sunset, for her part, had felt quite content, more content than she had felt since coming to Beacon — like treacle poured over a dessert or winter snow stealing across the land.

Sunset felt that sadness now, not weeping sadness, not sadness to make her cry, so perhaps not sadness at all, rather say, melancholy.

“My destiny, the destiny I choose, the destiny I came here searching for … is to protect the world."

And then the Beacon rooftop, too, receded, disappearing, replaced by Lady Nikos’ study, at her home in Mistral.

Mistral. Mistral, I’m halfway already to where I want to be. I just need to think. How to get to that memory? How to get out of this one?

“You think I am too hard on you?” Lady Nikos asked. She looked much as she had done when Sunset met her, proof that she had spoken true when she declared that it was giving birth to Pyrrha, and not the ravages of years, that had turned her old before her time. The study was the same in some respects, but all the tributes to Pyrrha and her deeds that had in Sunset’s time made up one wall were gone, replaced by a painting in a gilt frame, a pastoral scene that clearly held little value for Lady Nikos, given that she would exile it from her presence in later years.

Pyrrha stood in front of her, on the other side of the desk. She was … five years old; Pyrrha’s memory supplied the years, tall for her age, and gangly in the arms, without the muscle that would later round them out. Her ponytail was shorter too, barely reaching to the nape of her neck. This was after her first triumph, in a citywide junior league — this was the tournament, Sunset guessed, in which she had beaten Phoebe Kommenos, who had come home and abused Cinder in consequence.

And so do the wheels turn, all fates entwined.

Pyrrha did not meet her mother’s gaze. “I … I…”

“Don’t stutter!” Lady Nikos snapped. “Speak!”

Sunset honoured Lady Nikos. She liked Lady Nikos. Yet at this moment, she was filled with nothing but anger towards Lady Nikos, an anger that she not expected to feel in the soul of gentle Pyrrha, but there it was: anger towards the woman who had controlled her, fashioned her like clay or soft wax, made her into an instrument of Lady Nikos’ own ambitions with no thought for Pyrrha’s own desires, who had lied to her to come between Pyrrha and her happiness, her heart’s desire.

Why did I want her to make amends with such a hateful woman? Sunset wondered.

Lady Nikos stared at her for a moment. “I am hard on you,” she conceded, “because you are a child, and if I am not hard on you, then you will not be hard on yourself. You will waste your days and your talents.” She got up, casting a shadow that reached across the desk to fall on Pyrrha. “You are my daughter,” she said, “a daughter of the House of Nikos, scion of a line of heroes, and you yourself … if Chiron is not a liar, and if mine eyes do not deceive me, then you have it in you to be the greatest warrior that Mistral has seen in many generations. I will not see that potential squandered; I will not.”

Somewhere else again; Pyrrha’s mind was like a flea, it jumped from scene to scene with scant regard for visitors, barely allowing Sunset to get her bearings in one place before she found herself being whisked off to another. Now, she stood in a field, upon the edge of a forest, looking down upon a wide valley with a river running through it, and on the other side of the valley, there, upon the mountain, lay Mistral.

“Why did they want to poison me?” Pyrrha asked.

Sunset turned around. Pyrrha was a little older now, ten years old, and she had gotten taller, just as her hair had gotten longer. She was dressed in what looked like it could be the progenitor of her current garb of war: long black gloves upon her arms, a red sash — shorter than that which she currently wore — tied around her waist; her greaves were smaller, and there were no cuisses, and she wore no vambraces either. Her top was a little less revealing than it would become; in place of cuirass, she wore a red tunic, with a bronze pectoral across her chest.

Her circlet and armband were nowhere in evidence.

Pyrrha was sitting beneath a tree. Two people sat on either side of her, an equine faunus with hooves emerging from out of his trousers and a plump woman with dark tangled hair. Chiron and Chariclo, Pyrrha’s memories gave Sunset their names, her tutor and his wife, her erstwhile nurse. Though Pyrrha scarce required a nurse at that age, still, she and Chariclo were close, if only because she was Chiron’s wife.

Pyrrha’s memories, too, supplied the context that Sunset lacked; Jason and Meleager, two other of Chiron’s students, had attempted to put something in Pyrrha’s food that would sicken her, but Chariclo had uncovered the plot before it would come to fruition.

There was no anger in Pyrrha at this memory, and not just because it was so long ago and they had been children at the time; rather, this memory brought instead a renewal of that melancholy that Sunset had felt before.

She had hoped to make friends with them, her fellow students. She had hoped that they would share a common bond and be further bound in common purpose.

Instead, they hated her, and Pyrrha could not help but feel it was her fault.

Sunset wanted to go over to her and give her a hug.

Strangely, she did not want to find Jason and Meleager and give them a thrashing. Clearly, Pyrrha’s emotions were affecting her mood.

“They are boys,” Chariclo said, “and boys are cruel.”

“They are jealous, Pyrrha,” Chiron said. “Loathe as I am to contradict my dearest, they would have done this thing had their names been … Alcimede and Deianeira.”

Chariclo snorted.

“They are jealous … because I am more skilled than they are?” Pyrrha asked.

“It is unfortunately so,” Chiron informed her.

“But why?” Pyrrha demanded. “It doesn’t make me any better than them just because I’m … more skilled than they are.”

“It will,” Chariclo said. “In time, you will understand.”

“Pyrrha, you have won tournaments in the past, but these have been small affairs, meant for children to play in, signifying, I must confess, very little. You have been noted, by some, for your skill and for your victories, but even amongst those who claim to follow the tournaments, there is not such recognition for the youth circuit. But soon, your mother has told me that she wishes to enter you into the adult tournaments at the earliest possible age. For most students, for Meleager and for Jason, I would counsel against it, but you … you will be ready, I think. In truth, you are nearly ready now, not just to compete, but even to triumph. No one so young has won the Mistral tournament in … oh, many a year, back into days of myth and legend, but you … you have it in you. Your skill gives you that chance and will unlock great glory for you, glory that Jason and Meleager, skilled though they are, cannot imagine. And thus, they are consumed with envy. It is not pleasant, but it is the way of the world.”

“Need it be?” Pyrrha asked. “Is glory all there is, and nothing more?”

Chiron was silent for a moment. “What else could there be, or should there be?”

“To do … to do something with my skill more than win trophies for my mother’s cabinet,” Pyrrha said. “To win battles not for my glory but for all mankind.” She got up and took a step away from the tree, her eyes fixed on Sunset — not actually at Sunset, obviously, but at the city of Mistral that stood behind her. “To protect the world. Have I skill enough for that, Chiron?” She looked back at him, over her shoulder.

Pyrrha did not believe she did, not anymore. Sunset could feel it, just as she could feel the anger at her mother, the melancholy.

But how was she to take control of it? How was she to move according to her own desires and not the hopping of Pyrrha’s thoughts?

She was back in Kendal’s room now, with Pyrrha and her memory self, continuing their discussion from earlier. No, now she was in Mistral again, back in the House of Nikos, and Pyrrha was kissing Jaune … and Sunset was seized with a powerful desire to do the same.

Was he not handsome? Was he not brave and kind? Was there not so much in him to love, to adore, to cherish—?

Not for me, there isn’t! Stop it! Keep your feelings to yourself, Pyrrha!

Feelings … feelings, yes, perhaps. It was true that Pyrrha’s thoughts were being driven by association, or so it seemed, one memory giving way to another as they were triggered — Pyrrha asked Sunset about the rooftop, and then they were on the roof; Sunset asked about Pyrrha’s destiny, and then she remembered something about that, and so on. But Sunset’s thoughts were not having the same effect; she was thinking hard and to no avail; Pyrrha’s thoughts remained in control.

But what if it wasn’t about simply thinking, but feeling too? After all, her power was not just telepathy, but empathy; she didn’t just see Pyrrha’s memories, she didn’t really read Pyrrha’s thoughts at all, rather she felt her emotions.

If she could harmonise her feelings with Pyrrha’s, if she could feel what Pyrrha had been feeling in that moment, then perhaps she could guide herself in that direction.

So what had Pyrrha been feeling?

Sunset remembered what it had been like to arrive in Mistral from her own perspective; she remembered Pyrrha leaving Jaune behind to watch the great city come into view from the airship.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

That was what Pyrrha had said. Pride, then, excitement, joy. Sunset closed her eyes and covered up her ears and paid no mind to Pyrrha’s memory; rather, she focussed upon her own memories, her own feelings, and the connection between the two. Pride, excitement, joy. Attending Princess Celestia’s school. She had felt so proud to walk those hallowed halls on the first day, so proud to step through the open door, to sit down in class, to hear the words of wise and wizened unicorns. She had been … nothing, until then. Princess Celestia’s ward, yes, but a charity case, a little filly on whom the princess had taken pity, with no family, no purpose, and no use. But once she started attending the School for Gifted Unicorns, that was when … that was when Sunset Shimmer had started to become somepony, to show that Princess Celestia’s kindness had not been wasted on a nothing, to show Equestria what she could do.

To show Princess Celestia that she could do it.

Sunset opened her eyes and found that she stood upon a Mistralian airship, flying towards Mistral, with the memories of Team SAPR around her.

Sunset gasped. “I … I did it,” she said. “I did it!”

“I did it!” Sunset cried, raising her hands in the air back in the real world.

“You … you did?” Pyrrha asked. “You found the memory?”

“Yes,” Sunset said. “The four of us, flying to Mistral.”

“Extraordinary,” Pyrrha murmured. “On your first time, you … that’s very good, Sunset; congratulations. How do you feel?”

Sunset grinned. “I kind of want to kiss Jaune right now.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Pyrrha said dryly.

“I also feel rather upset with your mother.”

“That might be a more welcome change, if it were permanent,” Pyrrha said. “For my part … it’s the strangest thing, but I feel a squirming sense of guilt.”

Sunset swallowed. Her stomach froze up. It works both ways? It works both ways! That’s … this is the worst semblance ever!

How am I going to explain this?

Pyrrha frowned. “Sunset … why do I … why do you feel so guilty?”

Sunset’s mouth was dry. She dared not swallow again for fear of betraying her nerves, and even if she had done so, it wouldn’t have helped. “I … I let you down over … over the Arcadia Lake business; it was … I shouldn’t have done it.”

“We forgave you for that.”

“That does not make it so easy to forgive myself,” Sunset replied.

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “No,” she conceded. “No, I suppose not.” She glanced away, looking ashamed to have brought it up.

Mentally, Sunset let out the sigh of relief that she could not release physically.

“How did you do it?” asked Pyrrha, sounding anxious to change the subject. “Reach the memory, I mean?”

“I thought about what I thought you had been feeling at that moment, and then I felt the same things myself,” Sunset said.

“So easy?”

“It was an idea,” Sunset said. “One worth trying, it turns out.”

“Hmm,” Pyrrha murmured. “Yes, I see.”

“Is something wrong?” Sunset asked.

“Not wrong, exactly,” Pyrrha replied. “But with that approach … what will you do with someone you don’t know, whose feelings you cannot tell?”

Sunset’s mouth opened silently. “That’s a good point,” she admitted, “but what’s the alternative?”

“I confess, I am not sure either. It may be that there is no controlling your semblance under such circumstances,” Pyrrha admitted. “But, to make sure that it was not a fluke, would you like to give it another try?”

Comments

[Kiue Jin]

...Jaune is never going to be able to go to his home town again because he murdered his brother-in-law. Granted the asshole had it coming, that's why the town agreed to keep quiet about it and keep things local, but laws can't just be ignored and something has to be done about blatant murder.

[Mastermind4892]

I was thinking over the past few days that Sunset's semblance would immediately see through Ruben's little ruse, that she might be willing to use it for Pyrrha's sake. Now she'll have a chance to put her new training to good use. Furthermore, she has already been seeing Pyrrha's memories and knows beyond even a shade of doubt that she didn't cheat on Jaune.

Hopefully, her semblance can also see Ruben's deeper reasons and can help bring them to greater reconciliation. Sunset is to be the Princess of Hope, after all.

[Mister Morden]

The flowery language Pyrrha and Sunset use to talk to each other... Like stepping into a play!

But the missing dress... Will Jaune even fall for it? Even for a moment? I think not!

[Lancerguy]

“What—?” Sunset looked around, wondering what had prompted his sudden cry, only to see a goat that had snuck up on her and was about to start chewing on her sleeve. “Ah!” Sunset cried, raising her arms above her head and sidling away from the animal. “No! Go away!”

I am ashamed it took me this long to spot this reference, but nice addition

[Forthwith]

Just a thought that comes up briefly in this chapter, but Sunset seems to have lost her ambition to be victorious over Salem after the breach, and that's... I hope it's only temporary. The tone of gloom and doom is very fitting for these fading days long past the glories of the past that at least Mistral is wrapped up in, and thus the more center stage of our two heroines here, but a Sunset without that aspiration, a
Sunset already defeated, a Sunset yielding to the supposed inevitable is no Sunset at all