SAPR

by Scipio Smith

Victor and Vanquished (New)

Victor and Vanquished

Professor Ozpin took the Bullhead down himself, guiding the airship over the forest towards the clearing where Pyrrha had fought the duel.

The clearing where Pyrrha was waiting for them now.

Sunset felt as though the ice that had gripped her stomach had been melted away by a sudden heat, the gnawing emptiness filled by a sumptuous feast. A smile played upon her face as she gripped the railing running along the airship ceiling.

“You were really worried about her, weren’t you?” Ruby asked.

“I’m always nervous any time I have to let any of you out of my sight,” Sunset replied.

Ruby frowned. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

“I never said it was,” Sunset said. “But it’s who I am, for better or worse. Seems like once I care about someone, then I care; I can’t turn it off because it’s not convenient. I … I love not wisely, but too well.” She paused for a moment. “Besides, weren’t you nervous, a little bit?”

“A little bit,” Ruby admitted. “I … I’m glad she’s okay. And since she’s okay, that must mean she won, right?”

“You would think,” Sunset agreed. “Cinder wouldn’t let her leave alive, not Pyrrha, that … she hates Pyrrha too much for that, if she had her at her mercy … that’s why I was nervous about this. Plus, there’s the fact that Pyrrha hasn’t gone anywhere; she’s at the location of the duel. She is the mistress of the field. Which suggests…”

Which suggests that she won, and we’ll find Cinder dead once we get there.

That was … a pity. Yes, yes, it was a pity, that was what it was, that was what Sunset could think about it without feeling disloyal to Pyrrha in any way — not that she really did; she had always been rooting for Pyrrha to win.

Cinder … Cinder had chosen this path, the path of the warrior, the path of vengeance and wrath; she had chosen this, and having chosen, she had no right to complain about the outcome of it. Nor did Sunset think that she would have complained, given some of the conversations they’d had in the past.

“Cinder, the wrath that rules you is a poison, you must see that.”

“Then let me choke on it. Perhaps I am not healthy in my soul, perhaps I am not in a state of perfect ‘wellness,’ perhaps I am damaged, perhaps I am broken. Well then, let me be ill, let me be cracked, let me be a shattered mirror to hold up to this world, but I will not cease my raging until I have given back to this world its fill and more of bloodshed.”

“At what cost? At what cost to yourself?”

“At any cost! I will not move. Not one step.”

No, Cinder would not complain. She would not like to lose, would not wish to die by Pyrrha’s hands — although it would probably offend her less than to die by the hands of one less skilled in arms — but she would not beg for her life, nor moan at the injustice of her fate. Apart from anything else, she would understand how damaging that would be for her reputation.

But nevertheless, it was a pity. It was a pity that a sweet girl like Ashley had been transformed into Cinder Fall in the first place, corrupted by the cruelty of the world — and of the Kommenos family in particular — ground down, crushed in the spirit, broken. It was a pity that somebody like Cinder Fall had been created; it was a pity that someone who was witty and intelligent and ambitious could not have put those qualities to better use.

It was a pity that she had not been given the opportunity to do so.

It was a pity that her destiny had not been other than a death in the darkness in the woods.

And yet … yet, Pyrrha lived.

And Sunset would not trade that for anything.

“So … does that mean it’s all over?” Ruby asked. “Does that mean that it’s all done now?”

“Not all,” Sunset said. “Salem yet lives, forever.”

“I know,” Ruby said. “But you know what I mean.”

Sunset nodded. “I … it could be. We’ll have to see what Pyrrha says when we actually get to her.”

“Right,” Ruby agreed. “I wonder why she only sent us a text asking if they could get picked up instead of calling?”

“Maybe she felt the news she has to share would best be delivered in person?” Sunset suggested.

“I guess,” Ruby replied. After a moment, she added, “Of course, even with Cinder dead, there’s still Emerald and Lightning Dust to worry about.”

“Limbs of Cinder,” Sunset declared, dismissing them both with magisterial disdain. “Can the arm do mischief once the trunk is no more? Can a leg walk without a head to guide it? No, without Cinder, her followers are irrelevant … even the White Fang will be less dangerous without Cinder to supply ambitions for them.”

She hesitated. “Besides … I don’t think that Emerald would be interested in serving Salem in Cinder’s absence; she wouldn’t look to move on up to take Cinder’s place at the top table; she … I don’t know what she’d do, exactly, but it would probably be something of little danger to the world.”

“What makes you say that?” asked Ruby.

“Because she told me, in as many words, when we spoke to arrange the duel,” Sunset explained. “I hadn’t really had anything to do with her until that point, but when we spoke, she seemed so … normal. I couldn’t help but ask her why she was doing this.”

“And what was the answer?”

“Loyalty to Cinder,” Sunset answered.

“Hmm,” Ruby murmured. “What could Cinder have done to earn the kind of loyalty that would cause Emerald to help her try and do such terrible things?”

“You’d need to ask her that,” Sunset said.

“People should be loyal to ideals, not other people,” Ruby declared. “Wrong doesn’t become any less wrong because it’s Cinder or General Ironwood telling you to do it.”

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “General Ironwood?”

“I know that Rainbow trusts him, and I think that Blake must be at least starting to trust him, else she wouldn’t want to go to Atlas,” Ruby said, “but in the end, the only reason Rainbow Dash can give for why she trusts General Ironwood is … because she trusts General Ironwood.”

“Do you not trust General Ironwood?” Sunset asked.

“That’s not the point,” Ruby replied. “The point is that I wouldn’t do whatever he said just because he told me to.”

“Professor Ozpin trusts General Ironwood,” Sunset pointed out, glancing over her shoulder into the cockpit. If Professor Ozpin was taking any notice whatsoever of their conversation, you couldn’t tell by the way he was acting wholly focussed on the controls.

“Professor Ozpin wouldn’t do whatever he said either,” Ruby responded.

“That is a fair point,” Sunset allowed. “But … it’s all very well to say that you should be loyal to ideals over people, and I even understand why you’re saying it, but … that’s just because you haven’t met anyone that you consider personally worthy of your loyalty. When you do … some people just strike you, you know. They shoot you through the heart; it’s like love; no, it is love. Their wisdom, their nobility, their bearing and dignity, it … you would do … anything for them. Follow where they lead, do as they ask, and I don’t accept that as a flaw.”

She paused a moment. “The happiest days of my youth were spent loyally following Princess Celestia, and as much as it brought me here and to all this, it remains my deepest regret that I rebelled against her.”

Perhaps it ought not to have been her greatest regret any more, but … her second greatest regret had nevertheless purchased the lives of Ruby, Pyrrha, Jaune, Blake, and Rainbow Dash, while her greatest regret had brought nothing but unhappiness to Princess Celestia.

“Because you didn’t have the right ideals, the right principles,” Ruby argued.

“So I should have followed in the hoofprints of someone who did,” Sunset said. “All the dignity of our race is embodied in Princess Celestia; who was I to ever question her wisdom?”

“Someone with a mind of your own, and a heart of your own too,” Ruby said.

“I’m setting her down now,” Professor Ozpin called out from the cockpit. “We’re almost there.”

Indeed, Sunset could feel the airship going downwards as he spoke, all sense of forward motion ceasing, replaced by the jolt of a descent beginning.

The door on the right hand side of the Bullhead began to open before the airship had completed its descent, and in the moonlight, Sunset could see the trees growing closer beneath them, could see the clearing.

And she could see Pyrrha, Jaune, and Arslan waiting for them below.

Pyrrha was in front, with Jaune and Arslan standing slightly behind and upon either side of her; the reflection of the moonlight was bright upon her golden circlet, and the displaced air from the Bullhead’s engines blew through her hair and made her ponytail stream out and dance behind her.

As the descending airship brought them closer and closer, Sunset could see that upon Pyrrha’s face was a smile of quiet confidence.

Sunset teleported out of the airship before it had finished landing, appearing in front of Pyrrha with a crack and a flash of green light as she threw her arms around Pyrrha’s neck and enveloped her in a hug.

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t think there were any words necessary.

Judging by Pyrrha’s silence as she placed her own arms around Sunset’s back, she felt much the same way.

Sunset heard the Bullhead’s engines shut off, their whine ceasing, allowing silence to settle for a moment before it was disturbed by the hooting of an owl in the trees some distance away.

Sunset heard footsteps rapidly approaching without seeing whose footsteps they were, and then she felt someone a little smaller than herself bump into her and Pyrrha, as well as another arm upon her back.

Sunset smiled, even as she released Pyrrha with one arm and gestured with her now-free hand. “Bring it in, Jaune; come on.”

She still didn’t see anything, her face buried in Pyrrha’s shoulder, but she felt Jaune’s arm around her and felt his presence — larger than Ruby’s — pressed against her left side.

“And hold it right there a second while I get the picture,” Arslan said. “There, got it. Some of your older fans might find this a bit sappy, but it’ll be the perfect way to finish things off for the kids.”

“What’s she talking about?” Ruby asked.

“Arslan filmed the fight,” Pyrrha explained, her voice soft. “I haven’t decided whether I’d like it to be released or not.”

“You’re thinking about it?” asked Ruby.

“Some things have to be seen to be believed,” Arslan said.

Nobody replied to that. Nobody did anything. They just stayed that way, their embraces interlocking, their bodies pressed against one another, for just a few moments longer.

“Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin said, “I am very glad to see you alive and well.”

It was a tacit signal to stop hugging, and one which they obeyed, releasing one another and wordlessly forming a line facing the headmaster. Sunset and Jaune clasped their hands behind their backs, while Pyrrha’s hands hung down by her sides.

Pyrrha took a step forwards ahead of the others. “Thank you, Professor. I have the honour to report that I was victorious.” She sounded honoured; there was no hesitation in her voice, no trembling, her voice rang out clearly through the night. “Although I confess that Cinder Fall escaped me.”

Sunset looked around. There was no body to be seen, something which she hadn’t noticed before, focussed as she had been on Pyrrha; there was a crater in the earth, where it looked as if someone had been slammed into the ground with great force, but there was no body, nor any blood.

Professor Ozpin was silent a moment, and then he sighed. Sunset didn’t like the fact that he sighed; it made her ears droop a little bit; he might have preferred it if Cinder had died, but he didn’t have to be so obvious about it in front of Pyrrha.

“I see,” he murmured. “May I ask how that happened, Miss Nikos?”

“I broke Cinder’s aura,” Pyrrha explained, “but before I could land the killing blow, the battle was interrupted by grimm. They came between me and Cinder, and one of them carried her away while I was embattled by others.”

“It was the strangest thing I’ve ever seen,” Arslan added. “I’ve never even heard of anything like it, not ever. Grimm carrying someone off like that? On the plus side, they’ve probably eaten her by now.”

If only you knew, Sunset thought. Actually, probably best that you don’t.

Still, that explained that. The only question was whether Cinder had arranged that, as a last minute means of saving herself if the battle should go against her, or whether Salem had done it in order to preserve her champion. The latter raised the question of why Salem would bother with a champion who couldn’t win on her own merits — maybe she just didn’t want to go back to the drawing board for another generation or so but preferred to work with what she had right now — but nevertheless, it was the answer that Sunset preferred.

She didn’t want to believe that Cinder had planned all along to void the duel if she didn’t like the outcome. It might sound strange, but … it was one thing to be on the wrong side of a war, it was one thing to wage war, to fight against — even to kill — those who were on the other side of that war, but to make a solemn bargain like this and then renege on it was … rather more disappointing, in some ways.

I’d like to think you had more self-respect than that.

I do think you have more self-respect than that, and too much pride to make contingency plans for your defeat, besides.

“The ways of the grimm remain fundamentally … esoteric to our eyes, Miss Altan,” Professor Ozpin said. “It may be as you say … but it may also be that, for whatever reason, Miss Fall yet lives. Disappointing as that fact may be.”

“Professor,” Sunset said sharply, as her ears dropped down into the midst of her hair, “this childish sullenness does a discredit to your years. Eat your sprouts and be grateful there is any supper at all.”

“Sunset,” Pyrrha murmured.

“He has no right to act like you failed,” Sunset muttered.

Professor Ozpin raised his head and let out a bark of laughter up towards the moon. “Yes. Yes, Miss Shimmer, you are quite correct, and chide me well. I admit … yes, you are correct. You have done well, Miss Nikos. You have met your enemy, alone and unaided, and you have vanquished them. That they escaped the final blow is, as you have explained, not your fault.” He paused for a moment. “How do you feel?”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “I would be lying if I said I didn’t wish that there was a body here with us, Professor, yet, nevertheless, I feel like a victor. I withstood her, I bested her, and I see no reason to believe that I could not do so again if need arose — which it may, given the circumstances.”

Her words slowed down a little, not so much in hesitation but with a sense that she was choosing her words carefully, most likely for Arslan’s benefit, to avoid saying anything that she shouldn’t have.

“If that is the calibre of opposition that the world may provide me, then it is challenging, to be sure, but far from insurmountable. Whatever fresh battles lie before us, I will go forth to meet them renewed, certain of my value as a member of Team Sapphire.”

The only one who ever doubted that was you, Sunset thought. But it’s nice to hear you’re over it regardless.

“I am delighted to hear it, Miss Nikos,” Professor Ozpin said. “You have done good work tonight, and I have no doubt that you will do even greater service to the world in the days to come.”

---

On the positive side, it only hurts when I breathe.

Cinder stalked back towards Portchester Manor in silence. In part, that was because it hurt too much to speak. Her bones ached, so badly she was certain that she must have broken a few of them; she’d be astonished if Pyrrha’s last attack hadn’t cracked at least a couple of ribs, and she’d had to shove her own shoulder back into place. Every breath felt as though she was being stabbed in the lungs, and every step produced throbbing protestations of her knees. Her arms drooped down on either side of her, and her legs were so heavy, it was as though she was dragging pallets loaded with cinder blocks in her wake.

None of which would have mattered so much if she had been returning victorious. After all, she had been prepared for a hard fight; she did not … yes, very well, she had underestimated Pyrrha Nikos, her skill, her finesse, but she had not underestimated her so much that she had expected an easy victory, without pain or cost or consequence. She had expected a hard fight, one which would try her and leave her spent, but if she had won, if she had been returning now with Pyrrha’s blood upon her sword, then it would not have mattered.

Exultation would have served as a substitute for energy. The thrill of triumph would have served as an anaesthetic against the pain.

But she was not returning victorious. She was returning defeated, having lost the obsidian glass of Midnight; she would have to go back and get it some other time, provided that Pyrrha had left it for her and not taken it away as a trophy of her victory.

No, she would not do that. In part because she probably doesn’t realise that it’s special glass, but also because it simply wouldn’t occur to her to do so. She doesn’t need a trophy to remember her victory; the fact that she won will be enough.

But for now, Cinder was disarmed and defeated, and the shame of that defeat was compounding the pain of her physical injuries tenfold.

Pyrrha had beaten her. The Champion of Mistral, the Evenstar of Mistral, the pride and glory of Mistral reborn, Pyrrha had this night proven herself beyond doubt to be all those things, and Cinder … Cinder was nothing. A loser. Dust beneath Pyrrha’s chariot wheels.

Cinder had dreamt of this moment, but her dream had abandoned her. Destiny had betrayed her. Pyrrha, it seemed, was favoured of fortune, not her.

Cinder’s great ambition, the culmination of her hopes, and she had been unable to realise it. Her reach, it seemed, had exceeded her grasp.

That in itself was not unbecoming; a hero should outreach themselves and pay the price, but it galled Cinder nevertheless that her outreach should come against Pyrrha, when she had always desired that Pyrrha in particular should fall before her, inspiring the avenger who would arise from the dead bones of the Princess Without a Crown and harry Cinder to her own end.

Instead…

How? Why? Is she simply born better than I am because she is gently born of royal blood and scion to an ancient line while I am but a gentleman’s daughter?

Is it because she was trained by the great Chiron himself while I was self-tutored in the darkness of the night?

She didn’t know what the answer was. She wasn’t sure it mattered. What mattered was that she had lost.

I did much better against her under Mountain Glenn.

Of course, under Mountain Glenn, she had used the environment to her advantage, used their very surroundings as a weapon against Pyrrha. So perhaps she could beat her, when the ground favoured her — but not in the open, where there was no terrain to take advantage.

Cinder found that somewhat cold comfort. After all, defeating Pyrrha because she had chosen a situation that favoured her, while it might be sound strategy, wouldn’t prove very much in the eyes of the world.

Any more than overpowering Pyrrha with a force to which she had no response would. Certainly, it demonstrated no innate superiority, which was what Cinder wanted.

Unfortunately, it seemed that she did not possess it.

I will have to train harder for the next round. The third time will pay for all; it must.

Everyone moved in silence. Since the grimm had released them, and they had begun their trek back to the old house that served as their base, no one had said a word. Not Cinder, not Emerald, and certainly not Lightning Dust.

Speaking of Lightning Dust, she was keeping her distance. While Emerald stayed close, her eyes flickering Cinder’s way as if she was expecting Cinder to be unable to walk by herself at any moment and need support — there was no chance of that; Cinder would rather die than accept help from anyone, even from Emerald; what remained of her somewhat tattered pride would not allow it — Lightning held off, walking at some remove from the other two as though she were the cool girl trying to avoid association with the wrong crowd at school.

Or because she was afraid that Cinder would rip her spine out and strangle her with it if she got too close.

Certainly, Cinder would have liked to have done that; she had no doubt, no doubts at all, about who had orchestrated her unwanted rescue — or at least who had been involved in this. Emerald, she discounted; the girl was too loyal to her, she would never do such a thing, but Lightning? Well, Lightning was too stupid to have arranged it by herself, but she had been involved.

Her and Tempest Shadow.

Unfortunately, Cinder’s aura was coming back but slowly, she wasn’t strong enough to kill Lightning Dust at the moment, even if she’d wanted to.

Even more unfortunately, even once her strength returned, Cinder found herself facing the possibility that she would not be able to do as she wished.

Because, of course, Lightning and Tempest could not have arranged all of this by themselves; they could not have commanded the grimm to swoop in at that precise moment and carry her off, throwing themselves between Cinder and Pyrrha, selling their lives to buy her time to escape. No, there was only one person who could have orchestrated that.

They had gone to Salem. They had told her about the duel, and she had sent her grimm to ensure that Cinder did not die.

What made matters worse, to Cinder’s mind, was her feeling that Salem would have allowed the duel to go ahead if Cinder had been winning. She could hardly have objected to Pyrrha’s death after all, which meant that she was aware that it was Cinder who had stood upon the verge of death.

And she had intervened to save her life because … Cinder could guess the ‘because,’ and it did not flatter her.

It was not out of affection that Salem had saved her.

Yet she had been saved, and very soon, she would have to explain herself.

And so, as she approached the house, Cinder straightened her back and did her best to banish all signs of pain and weariness from her. She could not hide the mess that combat had made of her hair, nor could she banish all the stains of dirt from off her dress — her poor dress; it had been so ill-used tonight — but she could at least act as though none of this was weighing upon her.

For all the good that the pretence might do.

And so, head held higher than it deserved to be, she strode through the doors and into the dissipated hallway of Portchester Manor.

“Hey guys!” Sonata called out cheerily, welcoming them with a smile which, in the circumstances, seemed revoltingly, offensively bright. “I made fruit punch for when you got back! Help yourselves!”

Tempest Shadow emerged from out of the side room that was Sonata’s haunt. There was a smirk upon her face which taunted Cinder. She folded her arms. “So, how did it go?”

The beowolf inside of Cinder was roaring louder than it had been even during that long walk back when she had wanted to rip out Lightning’s throat with her teeth. Cinder’s hands balled up into fists as she fought to keep her voice calm. “Where is my mistress?”

“Our mistress is waiting for you in the library,” Tempest said.

In the library. In my place. That was deliberate, Cinder was sure; it was not a secret where she had been spending the most time. Salem did not wish to give her a sanctum to retire to when she was done.

“I see,” Cinder murmured. “Then I suppose I had best not keep her waiting.”

“No,” Tempest said. “Best not.”

One day, I will peel the skin off your face, Cinder thought. See how you smirk at me then.

For now, though, she made her way towards the library, ignoring Tempest as she ignored Sonata and her ludicrous offer of the fruit punch — let Tempest indulge herself if she wished; she and Lightning had got what they wanted out of tonight.

Let Emerald, if she wanted anything; she had earned it, despite the otherwise miserable results of the night.

Unfortunately, Tempest followed her, falling in behind her as she walked. Cinder said nothing; if she questioned it, it would have the potential to make her look weaker than she already seemed, and at present, she lacked the strength to physically force the issue.

She would have to allow Salem to dismiss Tempest on her behalf.

But for now, she walked just behind Cinder, just enough to avoid too great impertinence, as they reached the library, where the door was open.

There was a Seer within, a floating glass ball, like the kind that phoney fortune tellers used to see the future at fairs and carnivals, only this ball appeared to be filled with black ink, a deep darkness that could not be penetrated by the eye. It floated about seven feet off the ground, and this particular crystal ball not only possessed white bony armoured plates at certain points upon it, but was ringed at the base by two rows of razor sharp fangs, moving slightly in and out as the Seer breathed. Tentacles, a dozen of them, hung down from the base towards the floor, each of them tipped with a sharp white point.

As Cinder walked into the library, the inky blackness within the Seer was lit up, a golden light seeming to bloom within.

And then, into view, emerged the deathly pale visage of Salem.

Cinder bowed, lowering her eyes to the wooden floor. “My mistress,” she murmured.

“The conquering hero returns,” Salem sneered. “Tell me, Cinder, what was the purpose of tonight’s … misadventure?”

“Mistress, I think that this matter would be best discussed … privately,” Cinder said.

“Really? I think that Tempest should remain,” Salem replied. “And so she shall. Tempest, close the door.”

“As you wish, my lady,” Tempest said.

Cinder heard the sound of the door shutting.

“Now, Cinder,” Salem said, “as you were saying?”

Cinder hesitated for a moment.

One of the seer’s tentacles, pink and flesh, reached out to her, the bony tip reaching up her chin and tilting it upwards until she was looking into Salem’s face.

“As you were saying,” Salem said.

Cinder could not tear her eyes away. “Pyrrha Nikos challenged me to a duel,” she said, swallowing, for her throat had become very dry.

“And you were compelled to accept because…”

“Because she would have thought me a coward if I had not,” Cinder declared. “As would the world which had heard her challenge me.” She paused and allowed a touch of resentment to enter her voice. “They will think me a coward now.”

Pain shot through her; it started in the small of her back, a stabbing pain as if someone had suddenly stuck a knife in her — which they had, but it hadn’t hurt this much until now — and then spreading outwards, down and up her spine, making her spasm, her arms and legs failing her. Cinder groaned and gasped in pain as she fell onto her side with a thud.

“Do you think I care about your reputation?” Salem demanded, her voice cold. “Do you think I care about the opinion in which you are held by our enemies, still less by the common wretches of Vale or Mistral?” She paused a moment. “So … Pyrrha called, and you answered, is that the short of it?”

Cinder grunted as she pushed herself up off the floor and back up onto her knees. “Yes, Mistress.”

“She called, and you answered,” Salem said.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“You did not think to set a trap for her and her friends?” Salem asked. “To lure Ozpin’s latest pawns to their deaths under cover of this archaic ritual?”

“No, Mistress.”

“Why not?” Salem demanded.

Cinder hesitated.

The Seer’s tentacle began to coil around Cinder’s throat.

“Why not?” Salem asked again, in a tone which suggested she did not wish to ask a third time.

“It would have been … dishonourable,” Cinder said.

Salem laughed coldly. “What is honour to someone like you?” she demanded. “What is honour, after what you have done?”

Cinder frowned. “I have done immoral things in plenty, Mistress, but I have done nothing dishonourable.” According to certain definitions of honour, in any case.

The famous Pyrrha would have agreed with me, I’m sure. And if she would not, then cunning Penelope certainly would have.

“A distinction likely to be lost upon Ozpin and his servants, whose opinion you are so anxious to maintain,” Salem suggested snidely. “Tell me, Cinder, having agreed to this ridiculous duel, how was it that you were defeated? Your power—”

“I will not use it against Pyrrha,” Cinder said. “Not when she has no answer to it.”

“Let me guess,” Salem said. “That would be dishonourable as well.”

“It would prove nothing,” Cinder replied. “I wish to prove my superiority in arms.”

“A superiority it seems you do not possess, on the basis of tonight’s display,” Salem reminded her. “You fought to the death?”

“That was my intent, Mistress.”

“You risked not only your own life, but also that which you carry in you, the power you will not use. If you had fallen, that power would have been lost.”

“To fall was not my intent.”

“And yet you did not take great pains not to fall,” Salem said. “You risked everything, you risked the culmination of my plans, and for what?”

“Pyrrha—”

“Pyrrha Nikos is nothing!” Salem snapped.

The pain returned to Cinder, spreading from her back once again, even more painful this time, not only dropping her to the floor as her legs gave way beneath her, but making her spasm, legs kicking, arms jerking, body twitching as a thousand thousand needles stabbed outwards from inside her skin, as if a wasp’s nest had been laid inside of her and now all the wasps were fighting frantically to get out, to burst their way free, though it tore Cinder’s body to pieces in the process. The seer’s tentacle tightened its grip around her throat, squeezing it tighter than her choker did, tighter than Pyrrha had done during the battle, tighter than…

“Oh, oh, stop, please, stop!”

“Here comes a monster to gobble you up.”

As bad as the pain were, the memories that filled her mind, memories that she didn’t want to remember, memories of that house, memories of Phoebe, memories of pain and loss and hurt.

Tears welled up in Cinder’s eyes. Whimpering sounds of pain escaped her.

“Do you think I care if Pyrrha Nikos lives or dies?” Salem demanded. “She is nothing to me. Pyrrha Nikos, Jaune Arc, Blake Belladonna, Rainbow Dash … insects crawling upon the face of Remnant. Not even silver-eyed Ruby has the power to harm me; why should I fear those who do not even possess the slightest glimpse of magic? To kill her, to kill one single enemy, you risked … everything? You risked what I gave to you?”

Cinder did not reply. The pain had faded somewhat, but not completely. She lay upon the ground, not twitching, but still wracked with pain. She lay on the floor looking up, while Salem looked down upon her. She seemed so very high and far away.

“It’s important not to lose sight of what drives us,” Salem said. “Glory. Renown. Revenge. But the moment you put your desires above my own, they will be lost to you. And so will everything else. You are the living key, Cinder; that gives you value to me, even if your performance thus far has been … less than satisfactory. I require you alive for my plans to move forward; therefore, you do not have my permission to die. Not at this time. And yet, these night’s events have shown that, as much as it pains me to admit this, I cannot rely on you. So from now on, you will work with Tempest Shadow, who brought me the news of your … actions, and together you will bring down Beacon Academy and retrieve the relic that Ozpin has hidden within. And when you have brought me a golden crown, then — and only then — will you have my permission to die.

“In whatever manner you see fit.”

---

“So,” Arslan said as she leapt down from out of the Bullhead and onto the landing bay, “what do you guys have planned right now?”

Sunset looked at her. “What do you mean ‘what do we have planned?’ It’s past one in the morning.”

Arslan shrugged. “I thought you might want to celebrate Pyrrha’s victory.”

“Speaking for myself, I might be in the mood to celebrate at some point,” Pyrrha allowed, “but at the moment, all I want is to snatch a few hours sleep, or more than a few; I may allow myself the indulgence of a late morning.” She stifled a yawn, covering her mouth with one hand. “Victory is always welcome, but against a skilled opponent it can be rather tiring.”

“Lightweights,” Arslan said with good-natured scorn.

“You may do as you please, of course, Miss Atlan,” Professor Ozpin said as he dismounted from the airship, “but on behalf of the faculty, I must ask that you don’t disturb the other students who are trying to sleep.”

“Of course, Professor,” Arslan said softly.

“Miss Nikos, everyone, I bid you a pleasant goodnight,” Professor Ozpin said. “We may speak of what transpired in the forest some more, but for now, I will leave you to a well-deserved rest.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Pyrrha said, bowing her head. “Goodnight.”

Professor Ozpin nodded to her, and there was a smile upon his face that Pyrrha might not have expected, considering his earlier disappointment at her failure to finish the fight and kill Cinder.

She could understand his disappointment. It did not dampen her spirits overly, it did not make her feel like a failure, it did not take away the fact that she had won the fight and that she felt like the victor, but nevertheless, it was somewhat disappointing. It meant the struggle would go on, the fact that Pyrrha now felt much more comfortable in that struggle.

And so she had understood his disappointment and felt that Sunset had been overstepping to rebuke the headmaster for it, and yet, it seemed that that rebuke had taken hold, for now, he smiled at her.

Pyrrha had to admit, she preferred the idea that he was pleased with what she had accomplished.

In any event, he turned away and walked away briskly, his cane tapping lightly upon the path that led away from the docking pads and back to Beacon. They would have to go that way themselves, but they all hung back a moment, letting the headmaster get a head start on them.

None of them wished to burden him with their continual company, nor — with all due respect — did any of them particularly wish his.

“P-money,” Arslan said, “before your head hits the pillow, can I have a word with you? In private?”

“Yes, of course,” Pyrrha murmured. “Excuse me, everyone; I’ll catch up.”

“We’ll wait in the courtyard,” Jaune said.

“I’m sure I’ll catch up before then, but thank you,” Pyrrha said.

They left her, following in Professor Ozpin’s footsteps down the path from docking pad to school, leaving Pyrrha alone with Arslan and the silent, still, unmoving Bullhead on the dock.

“What is it?” Pyrrha asked. “If it’s about the video, I haven’t—”

“No, I don’t expect you to decide that now; sleep on it and then let me know,” Arslan said quickly. “No, this is about … well, it’s about a couple of things, actually, starting with 'did I just see your semblance in that fight?'”

Pyrrha was silent a moment. The correct answer, of course, was yes, she had used Polarity more than once in the course of that battle; in a fight to the death, and a fight to the death against an opponent like Cinder what was more, there was little point and less sense in holding back, especially since Cinder’s glass weapons meant that Pyrrha’s usual subtle use of her semblance was impossible, and only unsubtle uses would avail her aught.

Yet she did not say that immediately because, well, because she had always kept it a secret. People didn’t know what her semblance was, especially not potential competitors; it was a secret. A secret weapon, one might say.

But Arslan wasn’t just a potential competitor, was she? Not now. When someone was willing to come and support you in a fight to the death, a little honesty was probably the least they were owed in return.

“Yes,” she said softly. “Yes, you did. My semblance is Polarity.”

“Magnetism.”

“Possibly,” Pyrrha said. “Although I can move metals, like aluminium, that are not magnetic.”

Arslan nodded. “So … I’ve seen you throwing your shield around like a disc and then it comes back; I thought that it was just really well-designed, but you were bringing it back with your semblance?”

“Not always; my shield is designed in such a way as to act like a discus and return,” Pyrrha replied, “but some of the manoeuvres I’ve performed with it have required a touch of my semblance, yes.”

Arslan’s eyebrows rose. “So … you’ve had this for a while now, and you’ve just been keeping it to yourself? Nobody knows about it?”

“Some people are aware,” Pyrrha murmured.

“Anyone who's gone up against you in the tournament circuit?”

“No,” Pyrrha allowed. “None of them, until now.”

“Why not?” Arslan asked. “Why not just … throw Phoebe out the ring with your semblance when the fight starts?”

“And prove what by it?” Pyrrha asked. “That I have been fortunate in my semblance? Defeating my opponents by skill demonstrates, well, skill. I didn’t train for years just to abuse my semblance all the way to easy victories; not to mention, if I took that approach, what would I do against an opponent like you?”

“When you put it like that, I wish you did rely on your semblance; I might be in with a chance,” Arslan muttered. “But you do use it?”

“Discreetly,” Pyrrha said. “Occasionally. To guide my shield or … turn aside someone’s weapon.”

“Suddenly, I’m very glad I use my fists,” Arslan said, with a touch of wry amusement entering her voice.

“It isn’t often,” Pyrrha insisted. “Usually, I can parry or turn the stroke aside with my shield.”

“After tonight, I can believe that,” Arslan said. “Your semblance doesn’t work on glass, does it?”

“No,” Pyrrha said. “Hence, amongst other reasons, the more obvious use of my semblance. That, and the fact that I might not have won without it. In the arena, I can afford to hold my semblance back, not because I’m so much better than everyone else, but because, ultimately, there is nothing at stake beyond glories that ultimately matter very little. But down there, if I had held back, she would have killed me.”

“But your semblance was on the special effects; the swordplay was all you,” Arslan said.

“Yes,” Pyrrha agreed. “Yes, I suppose you could put it that way.” She paused for a moment. “Are you … going to tell everyone about it?”

“Your semblance?” Arslan asked. She snorted. “Why would I do that? If nobody else knows except me, then they’re still at a disadvantage, right? Bigger chance of you and me meeting up in the Vytal Festival.” She chuckled. “Besides, it’s your secret, right?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said. “Yes, it is.”

“Then it’s safe with me,” Arslan said.

“Thank you,” Pyrrha said quietly. “You are…” She trailed off.

“I am what?”

“Would you be offended if I called you my friend?” Pyrrha asked.

“Just so long as you remember that while we might be friends outside the ring, we’re rivals inside of it,” Arslan declared. “I don’t want you taking it easy on me.”

Pyrrha smiled. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Still, I have to admit, I’m a little jealous,” Arslan said. “No matter how you use it, that’s a pretty cool semblance you have. My semblance is rubbish.”

“You’ve found your semblance?” Pyrrha asked. “But you never—”

Arslan’s eyebrows rose.

“Point taken,” Pyrrha murmured.

Arslan grinned. “Unlike you, I’m not hiding it for advantage,” she said. “I’m hiding it because … well, because it’s kind of embarrassing. But you did tell me your semblance eventually, and you didn’t try and lie about it or anything like that, so … my semblance is called Lioness, which is really a lot cooler than it deserves; I…”

She hesitated, glancing away from Pyrrha. “I can … breathe on people, and it makes them brave. Or confident, maybe, it … I unlocked it when I was a kid; my mom was going for a job interview, and she was a nervous wreck about it, and I said … I can’t remember what I said, some kiddy thing, and I gave her a kiss, and … I must have really wanted to make her feel better because she did. She stopped shaking, marched out, aced the interview, and got the job.”

“When you put it like that, your semblance sounds rather wonderful,” Pyrrha murmured. “Although how do you know that it’s breathing and not kissing?”

“Experimentation at home,” Arslan replied. “And, sure, that’s a nice enough story, but come on? I breathe on people? Who does that?”

“And you give them courage to face adversity,” Pyrrha countered. “Not only is that a gift to treasure in itself, but think of what it says about your soul that that is the reflection of it.”

“You don’t buy into all that ‘our semblances reflect our personalities’ do you? That’s just superstition,” Arslan said. “Did you vet Jaune to make sure that he had the right semblance to be compatible with yours?”

“Obviously, some people take the idea too far—”

“And if semblances say something about us, then what does the ability to move metal say about you?” Arslan challenged.

“I’ve sometimes thought that my ability to move metal might be symbolic of my skill in combat,” Pyrrha suggested. “After all, what is battle but a clash of metal against metal, and what is skill in combat but moving metal?”

Arslan’s eyes narrowed. “That … well, I don’t believe it, and I don’t believe my semblance says anything about me, and I wish that I had one I could get more use out of.”

“And I think you should not be so quick to dismiss Lioness,” Pyrrha replied. “You are still young; there may come a time — perhaps in your huntress career after Haven — when the ability to instil courage in those around you will be worth more than any other skill you could possibly have in that moment.”

“Maybe,” Arslan grunted, sounding profoundly unconvinced. “Anyway, that wasn’t the only thing I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?”

“What’s going on, Pyrrha?”

Pyrrha blinked. “Could you be a little more specific?”

Arslan folded her arms. “I’m not an idiot. I know that you know more than you’re letting on. I know that any reasonable person would assume that Cinder is dead, but you and your friends and Professor Ozpin are all acting like it’s better than even odds that she’s still alive somehow. I know that you didn’t do this just to get Phoebe off your back, I know that you and your team went on a mission to that Mountain Glenn place even though everything I’ve heard says that is not a place to send students, and while we’re on the subject, what was that big speech to Professor Ozpin? Since when did you start doubting yourself?”

“Since I came back from Mountain Glenn, at the very least,” Pyrrha murmured.

She cursed herself internally. She should never have involved Arslan in this, and having involved her, she should have been more careful with her words. She should have realised the implications of what she was saying. Had she taken Arslan for stupid? No, she didn’t think she had; she just … she thought she had been a better liar than she had been.

“You … you are right,” she said. “There is more going on than you know. But I’m afraid … I cannot enlighten your ignorance.”

“Why not?”

“Because it is not my secret to reveal,” Pyrrha replied. “It has been revealed to me, and to my teammates, but I am not at liberty to share that information any further.”

“On pain of—”

“Not on pain of anything,” Pyrrha said, “but it would break the trust of they who shared this with me.”

“Professor Ozpin.”

“I can’t say,” Pyrrha lied.

Arslan rolled her eyes. “Suit yourself.”

“It’s nothing personal,” Pyrrha assured her quickly. “It’s just…”

“You can’t share a secret that isn’t yours,” Arslan said. “I suppose I can understand that.” She scratched the back of her head. “But this … that’s what this was about, isn’t it? This secret.”

“It … is connected,” Pyrrha allowed.

“And you know something that tells you Cinder is alive?”

“Most likely,” Pyrrha agreed. “Although I can’t tell you why or how, for obvious reasons.”

Arslan was silent for a moment. “Is it dangerous, this secret you’re keeping?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha said at once. “That’s why I fought her, to prove to myself that I could face that danger and vanquish it.”

“Well, you did that, at least,” Arslan said quietly. She sighed. “Okay, if you can’t tell me, that’s fine; we’re not so close I need to know all your secrets, especially if they’re not even yours in the first place, but … be careful, okay? Take care of yourself. And that’s not me talking as your rival in the ring, or even as your friend outside the arena, but me speaking as a Mistralian, reminding you that the whole city would take it hard if anything happened to you. So … take care of yourself? Okay, don’t go in so deep you drown.”

“I will not,” Pyrrha promised. “For tonight, I have reminded myself that I know how to swim.”

---

Sunset's scroll went just as she — along with Jaune and Ruby — was passing between two of the great columns that formed a circle around the courtyard.

"Who'd be calling at this time of night?" Jaune asked.

"Time of the morning, technically, but I don't know," Sunset muttered as she fished the scroll out of her pocket so she could find out. She opened her scroll to see the number — not a name — being displayed. A frown besmirched her features. "I have to take this. When Pyrrha gets back, go on ahead without me, and I'll see you all at the dorm room; this shouldn't take long, but I'll try not to disturb you if you've already gone to bed."

"Who is it?" Ruby asked. "Why do you have to answer them?"

"Because it's Cinder," Sunset said. "Or Emerald, maybe, I suppose; it's Cinder's number, anyway."

"So … why do you have to answer them?" Ruby repeated.

Sunset snorted. "Don't you want to find out whose idea it was to get the grimm to come and carry Cinder off before Pyrrha could finish her off?" she asked. "Or am I the only one who wants to give Cinder the chance to explain herself?"

"Probably, yeah," Jaune said. "Does it really matter whose idea it was? It doesn't change what happened."

"No," Sunset agreed. "But if Cinder went to the clearing intending to chicken out if the battle went against her, then … she would be a lot more cowardly than I thought she was."

"I guess … it didn't seem as though…" Jaune murmured.

"What?" Sunset asked. "Did something happen?"

Jaune shrugged. "I don't know if it means anything, but before the grimm appeared, Cinder seemed … almost okay with it, or maybe not okay, but … she was just standing there, waiting for Pyrrha to deal the final blow. Or at least, that's what it looked like before the grimm showed up."

The scroll was still buzzing insistently in Sunset's hand.

"I suppose I'll find out, won't I?" Sunset asked. "Remember, don't hang around for me," she reminded them as she turned away, walking around the circle of towering columns, putting some distance between herself and the others before she answered her scroll.

"Hello, Sunset," Cinder said with a sigh in her voice.

"Hey," Sunset said, before an audible yawn escaped her.

"Aww, are you tired?"

"Aww, do you want me to hang up on you?"

"Forgive me," Cinder said. "That was … I am … forgive me. Were you up waiting for Pyrrha?"

"Of course," Sunset replied. "Did you expect me to go to bed?"

"I would have been very disappointed in you if you had," Cinder said. "You wouldn't at all be the Sunset Shimmer that I know if the prospect of a friend's death didn't render you incapable of sleep. And since you were up all night, I suppose it is very natural to be tired."

"You sound a little tired yourself," Sunset pointed out.

"I am … weary," Cinder said. "Pyrrha … hits hard."

"Mmm," Sunset murmured wordlessly.

There was a moment of silence from Cinder. "How is she?"

"'How is she'?" Sunset demanded. "You were just trying to kill each other, and now you want to know how she's doing?"

"If I am going to be defeated in a fight, then I want the person who defeated me to understand what a triumph that is and properly revel in it," Cinder declared. "I would hate to think that my downfall was not being properly appreciated because it had been undercut by the manner in which the contest ended."

"Pyrrha doesn't revel," Sunset informed her, "but she certainly appreciates what she did tonight."

"Good," Cinder murmured. "That is … good."

"Not the outcome you were hoping for, was it?"

"No," Cinder admitted. "But, at the same time…"

"What?" Sunset asked.

"If I had killed her," Cinder said, "you wouldn't be taking my call, would you?"

"No," Sunset murmured. "No, I wouldn't."

Cinder sighed again. "I should have been a gladiator," she declared. "I could have indulged my fantasies in a world utterly without consequence; it would have suited my temperament."

"I'm not sure you understand your own temperament if you believe that," Sunset said.

Cinder laughed softly. "Yes. Yes, I suppose you have a point, my … my desire for revenge would hardly have been sated in such an environment, but all the same … did Pyrrha take you to the Cthoneum when you were in Mistral?"

"No," Sunset said, "I've never heard of the place."

"Oh, you missed out," Cinder insisted. "You must make her take you next time you are in the city. And yet, at the same time, I am not surprised she didn't show you; it is a dark place in many ways. It's underground, dug into the mountain itself, beneath the slopes of the city."

"That would account for it being dark."

Cinder snorted. "Yes, obviously, but … it's an arena. An underground arena, fashioned not only for entertainment of the masses but also for the amusement of Erechthonius, God of the Underworld, to whom the arena is dedicated and to whom there is a temple adjoining the fighting pit itself. While the noble warriors, the scions of the great houses, the Pyrrhas of their day fought in the Colosseum under the light of the sun, slaves kept and trained for the purpose fought in the Chtoneum."

"They fought to the death, didn't they?" Sunset asked.

"Not always," Cinder replied. "A well-trained gladiator was too expensive to be put to death upon a whim, but yes, it was not so rare below as it was above. Even now, when the deaths have ceased, the two combatants enter through the gates of sawn horn; the victor leaves through a gate of ivory."

"They both enter through gates of false dreams," Sunset said, as this stirred a memory of a story she had come across while reading about Mistralian myth and legend. "Through which the loser must depart again; the victor may leave through a gate of true dreams, such as Pirithous used to return to the living world when he rescued Theseus from the underworld."

"Precisely," Cinder agreed. "To step into the Chtoneum is to die; to live, to be born again, one must conquer." She paused a moment. "But at the same time, those warriors of old … they would step into the domain of death and fight, they might even kill one another if the need arose, but when the need did not arise, when there was no battle, they were … friends. None of it mattered, you see; it was all just… a game, a fantasy. Strutting about with swords playing hero."

"This isn't a game," Sunset said.

"No, it is not; more's the pity," Cinder replied. "I hate Atlas, I hate Mistral, I hate Phoebe, I hate … there is so much about this world that I would see lit on fire and burned to ashes, but at the same time … at the same time, I wish that none of this would matter and that you and I and Pyrrha—"

"'Pyrrha'?"

"Her nearly killing me has revised my opinion of her upwards somewhat," Cinder said. "Would you tell her that I didn't intend for this to happen? I did not set out to void the duel and dishonour myself, I did not intentionally void the duel, I … I was prepared to let her take my life. I'm not a coward."

Sunset was silent a moment. "So what happened?"

"Salem is not prepared to see me die just yet," Cinder said. "As I told you, a well-trained gladiator is too expensive to be lost upon a whim."

Sunset hesitated. "Slavery in the days of old would have ill-suited you," she said. "You could not have borne it."

"You would think that, wouldn't you?" Cinder replied. "Will you tell Pyrrha that, for me, Sunset? I don't want her to think that I was afraid. I don't want her to think that I met her with craven or dishonest intentions. I went to that clearing intending to see that duel through to the finish, for better or worse."

Sunset breathed in and out. "I … I will tell her. Though I do not guarantee that she'll care."

Cinder laughed. "She doesn't have to care, so long as she knows. I do not demand that she think well of me, only that she not think ill based on misapprehensions. Tell her … tell her that she is … tell her, of all the warriors loved by the gods, she is the worthiest of their affections. She is Pyrrha Nikos of far fame, and of far fame, she is well-merited."

"Because she defeated you?"

"Naturally," Cinder said. "I could not be defeated by someone who was not of rare, exalted skill and ability, after all."

"I'm shaking my head right now, just so you know."

"No, you're not."

Now, Sunset shook her head. "I will tell her that, too."

"Thank you," Cinder said. "I owe you an apology, Sunset. It wasn't my intent to cause you heartache; I … I wanted to show you that you and I were … but I think, the very fact that this has caused you heartache shows that we aren't the same, are we?"

"No," Sunset murmured. "Not in this, at least."

"If to love is a fault, then gods help the wicked," Cinder declared. "And for my part, I would rather my mother been so foul that she had stayed home to care for me rather than giving up her life for the greater good and that grand old Atlesian flag, but … if I had known that it would hurt you so, I would have pressed the detonator myself."

"And what of those who died?" Sunset asked. "This is not a game, Cinder, though part of you might wish it were."

Cinder was silent a moment. "My apology lies before you; do with it as you will."

"Cinder," Sunset said, "this can all end, now, at any time; the future … is in your choosing."

Cinder did not reply to that, saying rather, "Give my regards to Pyrrha, Sunset, and tell her that I will train diligently before our next meeting. Goodbye."

"Cinder, wait—" Sunset said, but too late; Cinder had already hung up on her.

Sunset closed her eyes, letting her hands — her right hand still holding her scroll — fall to her sides.

It will go on then. It will go on to … whatever end.

To whatever end Cinder desires, or Salem?

Are you really content to be a slave to her?

A part of me, a large part, wishes that this could all be just a game as well.

Comments

[Madhat_pony]

Another good chapter overall, though i must admit my favourite part was the conversation between Sunset and Cinder.

spoiler for those who haven`t read beyond this chapter:
I dont know how much will be changed with the romance between Sunset and Cinder that we`ve already read in the future chapters but i still hope they get together, or remain close friends.

[Mastermind4892]

I wonder if they will start to put the pieces together. Salem does not tolerate failure and would typically allow such a flawed tool to perish. Salem let slip a hint of the cards in play. This would mean that either her forces are too few and cannot afford a loss... or that Cinder is too valuable a piece to lose. But Cinder's call to Sunset about being too prized a gladiator tells another story. So why would Salem still consider Cinder, who has proven inferior to Pyrrha, too valuable?

Because she has the other half of Autumn's power.

[Adser]

11458180
Ozpin should able to figure it out if he is told. Salem directly intervening to save a FAILING tool would be something so out of the ordinary that it should raise all kind of alarms on him. Everyone else doesn't have the info to do so, they aren't even aware that the Maiden powers are divided.

[ChaosDX1]

Poor Cinder. She forgot that when she dedicated her life to Salem, it stopped being hers to spend.

[Aleck_Ultimate]

"Cinder," Sunset said, "this can all end, now, at any time; the future … is in your choosing."

I never read the first draft of the story, only the rewrite, but I hope it includes a redemption for Cinder.

And my final theory is that Salem cannot be defeated because she can only be redeemed. For me that's the bottom line, I don't care what happened to the show when Monty Oum died.

[Stet709]

“Do you think I care if Pyrrha Nikos lives or dies?” Salem demanded. “She is nothing to me. Pyrrha Nikos, Jaune Arc, Blake Belladonna, Rainbow Dash … insects crawling upon the face of Remnant. Not even silver-eyed Ruby has the power to harm me; why should I fear those who do not even possess the slightest glimpse of magic? To kill her, to kill one single enemy, you risked … everything? You risked what I gave to you?”

What about Sunset, though? Sunset has magic. Sunset is very skilled and well-versed in magic. Sunset managed to break Salem's hold over her in Mountain Glenn. Does Salem fear Sunset? Is she threatened by her? Ozpin wanted to keep Sunset out of Salem's hands for a reason, after all.