• Published 31st Aug 2018
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SAPR - Scipio Smith



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

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Born Romantic (New)

Born Romantic

“Pyrrha?”

Pyrrha looked up from her book, eyes fixing upon the bathroom door. Amber was still inside, although the sound of the shower had died down a little while ago. Presumably, she was getting dressed.

Pyrrha set her book — the Fairytales of Remnant book; she had intended to re-read some of her old favourites, The Shallow Sea or The Girl in the Tower, but had found herself drawn instead inexorably towards The Story of the Seasons, to the story of the first Maidens and how they had acquired their powers; she had found it impossible not to read it — aside and got to her feet. “Yes? Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” Amber said softly, or perhaps her voice only seemed soft because a closed door separated them. “This makeup, who does it belong to?”

“That depends,” Pyrrha answered. “Some of it’s mine, and some of it belongs to Sunset.”

There was a moment of silence, before Amber asked, “Can I borrow some of it?”

Pyrrha smiled, if only to herself since there was no one else around to see her smile. She walked briskly across the bedroom, passing in front of Sunset’s bed — Amber’s bed now — to reach the bathroom door. “May I come in?”

There was another pause before Amber opened the bathroom door. She was dressed in an off-white blouse with short sleeves, stopping above her elbows, and frilly lace-like detailing around the shoulders and the swooping neckline. A central split led the eye down to the pleated, almost peplum-like lower half that covered her thighs above her dark brown trousers. Most of said trousers were hidden, disappearing into a pair of sturdy brown thigh-high boots, boots which were, themselves, covered from the knees on down by a pair of gilded armoured boots, high-heeled with decorative work around the knee that could not but put Pyrrha in mind of her own greaves, even if they were not quite so detailed in the workmanship. Amber’s blouse was partially obscured by a brown vest which fastened about her torso like a bustier, but which also incorporated a high collar that fastened tight around her neck, while leaving her chest and the collar of her blouse exposed. An amber pendant, decorated with a trio of small feathers in red, green, and gold, was fastened onto the shoulder of her vest.

A gilded pauldron rested on her right shoulder, while a similarly gilded vambrace upon black leather was fastened around her left wrist. A pair of golden bangles hung loosely from her right wrist, falling down onto her hand.

“That outfit suits you,” Pyrrha said. “You wear it very well.”

“Oh, do you think so?” Amber asked, looking down. “It isn’t my favourite. I suppose Ozpin gave this outfit to you because he knew that it wasn’t my favourite.”

“It was Professor Goodwitch who gave us these clothes for you, not Professor Ozpin,” Pyrrha pointed out, “and in any case, I think you do Professor Ozpin wrong to suggest that he would be so petty.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Amber cried. “Maybe if he turned you into one of his Maidens, then you’d understand how awful he can be!”

He did, or tried to at least, Pyrrha thought, and in ways that were more awful than simply inheriting the powers naturally, or at least as naturally as can be where magic is concerned.

For that reason, amongst others, she could not wholly deny Amber her right to dislike Professor Ozpin, or to hold him responsible for her condition. It was as she had discussed with Penny: had Amber chosen this, had she known what she was getting into? It seemed that the answer was no, and that … that did not reflect well upon Professor Ozpin.

At least I was given a choice to make with eyes wide open.

“I … do not tell you not to blame him,” Pyrrha murmured. “You have the right, but nevertheless, Professor Ozpin is not a petty man; he is not cruel and certainly not for cruelty’s sake. You do not have to like him, but he did not give you this outfit out of spite.”

“Mmm,” Amber murmured wordlessly. Her right hand brushed against the pleated hem of her blouse. “I think … I was wearing this when … when … I was … when—”

“I think I can guess; you do not need to say it,” Pyrrha said quickly. Perhaps you could have tried to find her something else, Professor Goodwitch. “If you’re not happy about it … I’m a little taller than you are, but I might have an outfit that would fit you, and if not, then I’m sure Sunset wouldn’t mind—”

“No,” Amber said, “it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” Pyrrha asked. “Because you don’t have to wear that if you don’t want to.”

Amber shook her head. “It’s fine,” she repeated. “Do you … do you really think that it looks good?”

Pyrrha nodded. “I do,” she said, smiling, glad that they had put the discussion of Professor Ozpin behind them. It was not something that she really wanted to discuss with Amber. It wasn’t something that she really wanted to think about, in all honesty. She didn’t want to think about what he had asked of her, what she had been prepared to do, what had … what it might have cost her.

She didn’t want to think about any of that. She didn’t want to try and reconcile in her head the great hero of Ozpin’s Stand, the figure of authority, the defender of the world, with the man who had, however gravely and solemnly, however filled with regret his voice had been, who had nevertheless asked that of her.

Pyrrha was not Sunset, to reject the idea that they might be called upon to make sacrifices; as a huntress, as a warrior, it might one day be her fate to flee in anger down to the shades. But to die in the dark, unknown, unheralded, unwitnessed, facing no foe, crafting no legend, that was utterly alien to the Mistralian mindset. To die at all was something to be avoided, but to die in such a way … Professor Ozpin had asked her to commit herself to oblivion.

Even though it was for a worthy cause, for the worthiest cause, nevertheless … she did not want to think about it. Or him, at the moment.

So she kept her focus upon Amber, adding, “That blouse is very lovely; that detailing in particular is very fine.”

Amber smiled at her, a smile that robbed the scars upon her face of some of their harshness. “Thank you. I added that myself.”

Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose. “Did you?”

Amber nodded. “Un— Ozpin brought me the lace from Vale, or actually, I think it’s from Mistral originally, but Ozpin got in Vale, and I added the decoration onto my shoulders and collar; before that, it was just a little bit too plain.”

“I see,” Pyrrha said. She chuckled. “You did not make the armour yourself as well, did you?”

The smile faded from Amber’s face, bringing her scars back into sharp relief; they seemed especially prevalent around and beneath her left eye, forming a dark mass where the individual marks became indistinguishable, so that when Amber’s face fell, it looked as though she were weeping horribly, all of her tears flooding out of that one eye and pooling beneath it before spreading out across her face.

Weeping, or bleeding.

Amber raised her left arm to her right shoulder, the hand beneath which sat her vambrace lightly touching her shoulder pauldron.

“The armour … no,” she murmured. “No, the armour was given to me.”

Like your magic.

“I … I didn’t mean to upset you,” Pyrrha said softly. “I’m sorry.”

Amber looked back up at her. “It’s not your fault,” she said. “It’s just… I didn’t really want to learn to fight, but my mother insisted. I didn’t understand why.”

Pyrrha chuckled softly.

“What’s so funny?” Amber asked.

“Nothing,” Pyrrha said quickly. “I just … know a little about mothers forcing you to learn things that you might not choose otherwise. Of course, you don’t have to wear the armour if you don’t want to.”

Amber glanced at her shoulder pauldron. “What if she comes back?”

Pyrrha didn’t need to ask who ‘she’ was. “Then I will make her regret it.”

“She’s very strong,” Amber said.

Stronger still since you met her last. “I … am not without strength myself,” Pyrrha said, “and regardless of Cinder’s power, I will not allow any harm to come to you by her hands, or any others, while I live.” She reached out, taking Amber’s right hand, her free hand, the hand that was not resting upon her pauldron, in both of her own hands, resting her brown-gloved fingertips upon Amber’s golden bracelets. “If, by my life or death, I can protect you, I will. I swear it by the seas and the skies and on the honour of my name of Nikos long-renowned.”

Amber stared up at her, eyes wide. “Why … why would you say something like that? Why would you promise that?”

“Because…” Pyrrha felt her cheeks heat up a little. “Because I am a Mistralian, and I’m afraid we have a terrible weakness for the dramatic. Because you are important, and because it would be a terrible thing were you to … were you to fall, and that was not an intentional play on words, I swear it; because you are in danger, and a huntress should fight for those who are imperilled. Because I am a warrior, and it is my part to fight. Because Cinder is my enemy, and it is my part to oppose her.” Because Cinder claims to be the spirit of Mistral, to embody our values, to be the inheritor of our traditions; and as the spirit of Mistral, as the embodiment of what it means to be Mistralian, she put those awful wounds upon your face and tore your aura. If that is what it means to be Mistralian, then woe unto us; does not Mistral deserve to be destroyed if the true heir of its spirit is so sunk into malice?

I would prove that our values are of a finer sort, the only way that I know how.

“Because…” she went on, “I say it because I would do it.”

“You don’t even know me,” Amber said.

“That could change,” Pyrrha remarked. “If you wish it so.” She smiled. “My name is Pyrrha Nikos, and I say once more that it is an honour to meet you.”

“Because I am the Fall Maiden,” Amber murmured.

“Would you prefer that I said it was a pleasure to meet Amber?” Pyrrha asked.

Amber hesitated, before a slight trace of a smile returned to her face. “Yes. Yes, I would like that better.”

“Then it is very nice to meet you, Amber,” Pyrrha said.

Amber’s little chuckle was so little that Pyrrha could barely hear it, but hear it she did, if only faintly. “It’s very nice to meet you too, Pyrrha,” she said, curtsying as she spoke, the toe of one armoured boot tapping lightly upon the linoleum of the bathroom floor as she did so. “You said that you were a Mistralian? That’s someone from Mistral, isn’t it?”

Pyrrha nodded. “Yes, that’s it exactly.”

Amber nodded. “Can I sit down? You might think this sounds silly, but I feel a little tired, and my legs are heavy.”

“Of course,” Pyrrha said, backing away, turning aside, leading Amber gently towards Sunset’s bed — Amber’s bed. They both sat down upon it, the mattress crumpling somewhat beneath their combined weight, Pyrrha’s sash dropping down to rest upon the floor at her feet.

Amber placed her right hand on top of Pyrrha’s knuckles, her fingertips upon Pyrrha’s vambrace. “What’s it like?” she asked. “Mistral, I mean. U— Ozpin told me a little about it, and he made it sound…”

Pyrrha waited a moment. “He made it sound what?”

“He … he made it sound very grand,” Amber said. “So grand that I wanted to see it for myself one day, but then it was as though he was afraid that he’d made it sound too grand, and then he told me it was not so great and that if I ever came to it, I should count myself very unfortunate. I think he was just trying to keep me where I was, so that he could control me better.”

“That … is a harsh judgement of his motives,” Pyrrha said quietly. “In truth, Mistral is not a paradise. There are those, like my friend Arslan, who grow up in poverty, under the shadow of crime and want. Certainly, Professor Ozpin spoke true when he described the city as having a dark side; though I know little of it myself, it does have a reputation which goes before it into Remnant.” In that sense, though she would hate to hear it I’m sure, Cinder is a true Mistralian, though a true Mistralian of the lower slopes rather than sprung out of The Mistraliad. “But to say that you would be unfortunate to ever find yourself in Mistral … there, Professor Ozpin has misled you, and done my city wrong besides. For if Mistral has a dark side, then it is a shadow cast by a radiant light which shines down from above. Mistral … I speak with all the fondness of a native daughter, and perhaps you should remember that before you take my word for it, but to me, there are few sights more pleasing to the eye or stirring to the soul than the sight of Mistral from the air as an airship carries me home. The whole city is built upon a great mountain, layer upon layer cut into the rock, and atop the very pinnacle, like a spear raised in salute towards the sky, stands the White Tower, where of old, the watchers would look out for the return of our princes and our heroes from their wars and adventures. ‘Now all her princes are come home again, come the three corners of the world in arms, and we shall shock them; naught shall make us rue, while Mistral shall to Mistral’s self be true.’”

“Is that poetry?” Amber asked.

“Yes,” Pyrrha replied. “It’s Aeschylus; he is a little out of fashion these days, but I find that for traditional — one might call them old-fashioned — sentiments, he cannot be bettered by any of the newer writers.” She paused. “In any case, where was I?”

“The view,” Amber said, “is it beautiful?”

“Very much so,” Pyrrha confirmed. “Especially at the break of day, when the sunlight rises up the city like a great wave sweeping in from the east, making the temples and the palaces gleam before lastly coming to the White Tower itself which glows like polished alabaster, it … it is magnificent, and beautiful. And once you land in the city, there is much beauty to be admired, as I say the temples, whether they are still in use or no … immense columns hold up the roofs, rising heavenward to bear a weight like the firmament upon themselves, statues of gold and bronze, of painted marble and of Imperial porphyr—”

“Statues of what?” interrupted Amber.

“Gods, heroes,” Pyrrha said, “nymphs of the rivers and spirits of the sky, guardians of fountains and protectors of the woods, all manner of things honoured in stone or metal.”

“Ozpin told me that Mistral is the heart of fashion,” Amber said, “that there are no more beautiful outfits than those that come from there. Is that true?”

“Oh, without doubt,” Pyrrha agreed. “Would you like to see some examples?”

Amber’s eyes lit up. “Could I?”

Pyrrha laughed brightly. “Stay right there,” she said as she got up from off the bed and whirled on one toe, her crimson sash flying around her as she turned away from Amber and walked to the closet on the far side of the dorm room, flinging it open to reveal all the clothes stored within.

Of which, it had to be admitted, the greatest part were hers.

Pyrrha considered for a moment, and then stepped somewhat into the walk-in closet, reaching out with one hand to grab the black and green dress that she had worn to visit Jaune’s family in Alba Longa. It did not have the belt or the cape, but it was nevertheless a pretty dress; at least, she thought so — and Jaune had thought so too — and so, she lifted it off the rail and pulled it towards her, turning in place to face Amber as held the dress up in front of her.

Amber’s eyes widened as she clapped her hands together in delight. “Oh my goodness, how lovely!”

“Yes, it is, isn’t it?” Pyrrha agreed. “And that’s not all.” She put the green and black dress back in the closet and drew out the red dress, with the long slit sleeves that did not cover the arms at all but rather fell down off the shoulders towards the floor, the one that she had worn to dinner with Jaune’s family after she had won their acceptance at last. That dress, she presented to Amber in turn, once more holding it up in front of herself.

“That looks wonderful too,” Amber declared. “But I think I prefer the green one.”

“Do you?”

Amber nodded. “It’s a little plainer, but still I … I think it’s more beautiful.”

“It is prettier, if not so plain, with the belt around the waist,” Pyrrha remarked. “You could try it on, if you like?”

“Really?” Amber said. “But it’s yours.”

“And as it is mine, I’m offering to let you wear it, if you wish,” Pyrrha said.

Amber smiled. “Oh, thank you!” she said, starting to get up. “That would be…” She stopped, sinking back down onto the bed. “No,” she said, more quietly. “No, thank you. That … that’s very kind of you, but no.”

Pyrrha’s brow furrowed beneath her circlet. “It would be no trouble at all, I assure you.”

“I said no!” Amber snapped. She looked away, hugging herself with both hands, shivering a little. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice dropping even as she bowed her head. “But no. No thank you.”

Pyrrha swallowed. “Very well,” she murmured. “I wouldn’t want to impose, after all.” She put the red dress back in the closet and shut the door. She had a feeling Amber wouldn’t want to see any more of her wardrobe.

“Mistral sounds very beautiful,” Amber said. “Beautiful and wonderful and … and I wish I could see it for myself.”

I could take you there, if you like, Pyrrha thought. We could all go, once the Vytal Festival is over, all five of us. Only the thought of what Professor Ozpin might say held her tongue; he might not want to let Amber leave Vale, to go so far beyond his reach, to entrust her only to the care of Team SAPR.

Amber was still turned away from Pyrrha, presenting her back as she embraced herself, back bent, trembling as though it had turned cold.

Poor girl, Pyrrha thought, and suddenly, the idea of what Professor Ozpin might wish seemed to matter a little less; certainly, they mattered a little less than the girl in front of her who had suffered so very much, and who even now stood in grave peril.

But she would be as safe in Mistral as in Vale, would she not? More, perhaps, since Cinder was not in Mistral. Although she might go there easily enough, and Salem had other servants no doubt.

And, with no offence to Polemarch Yeoh, perhaps to call Mistral as safe as Vale is a little optimistic at present.

Of old, it was said that in Mistral, five hundred swords would leap from their scabbards to avenge the merest flush of outrage on a fair maid’s cheek; would that it were so now, then what would Amber have to fear of Cinder or all the rest of Salem’s lackeys?

Yet wishing will not make it so.

Nevertheless, Pyrrha walked back towards Amber and said, “Perhaps we might visit one day, if you wish, the five of us?”

Amber looked at her. “'The five of us'?”

“You, me, and the rest of my team: Sunset, Jaune, and Ruby,” Pyrrha explained. “I already took my teammates for a visit during the spring break, but I’m sure they wouldn’t mind going back again with you. I … I cannot say exactly when we might go; I think it would have to wait until … until things had calmed down a little, until they were safe, but—”

“I’ll never be safe,” Amber said in a voice that was half moan, half murmur. “I’ll always be in danger. They’ll always be after me.”

“Perhaps not,” Pyrrha replied. “And at least perhaps not as … urgently. You’ll always have to take care, maybe, but … but that’s why we would go with you, not only to show you the delights of my home but also to keep you safe.”

Amber was silent for a moment. “I’m not sure that day will ever come,” she said. “But all the same … you’re really very kind.”

“I try to be,” Pyrrha said, “especially to those who are so … deserving of kindness as you.”

Amber did not look at her, nor did she speak for a moment. “Pyrrha,” she said, “may I ask you something?”

“Of course,” Pyrrha said, “anything you like.”

“You … you know, don’t you?” Amber asked. “You know everything, about the Maidens, and magic, and Salem, all of it?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha replied, a little stiffly. “Yes, we know everything: the four of us, and Blake, and our friends of Team Rosepetal from Atlas. Professor Ozpin told us all.” Eventually, at least.

“And you serve him?” asked Amber. “You serve Ozpin, the four of you?”

Pyrrha nodded. “We do. He asked for our assistance at a moment of need, when he had no one else to turn to.”

Amber fell silent again. “Why?”

“Why?” Pyrrha repeated. “Why do we serve Professor Ozpin?”

“Why do you fight?” Amber asked, looking at Pyrrha now, full in the face. “Why do you risk your lives like this, fighting a battle that can never be won, when the only thing that can be done is to hide away and hope that no one finds you, when you might die for someone who uses you and lies to you and who doesn’t care about you except for what he can get out of you, why do you … why do you fight at all?” She paused. “I’ve never liked fighting. My mother and Ozpin told me that I had to learn, and so I did. They even told me that I was good at it, and maybe I was, maybe … there was a moment, when she came for me, when I thought that I was going to win, when it seemed like they were going to fall before me, but … maybe I am good at it, or maybe I was, at least, but I never liked it. I never liked it, not one bit; I never wanted to do it; I only learnt because they made me. Why do you fight? Why do you choose to be here?”

“Those are … interrelated questions,” Pyrrha replied. “But not exactly the same.”

She walked back to Amber, not sitting down but standing over her, looking down on her. Looking down while she wondered where to begin. With her family? With her name and its proud history? No, Amber might not understand that, and besides, it was quite refreshing to speak to someone who had absolutely no idea of who she was. With her sense of destiny? No, that would sound too vainglorious. What then? How to explain it?

“I hardly know where to begin,” Pyrrha murmured. “But perhaps on the most belly-to-earth level … I enjoy it. I like winning, and my skill has won me some measure of acclaim in the arenas of my home. I have not always enjoyed the attention, but I find that I do enjoy being the best, being seen as the best, being respected for the skills to which I have devoted myself.”

“That doesn’t explain why you chose those skills,” Amber said. “Couldn’t you have done something else?”

Pyrrha chuckled. “My mother, like yours, might have had something to say about that,” she said. “But more than that … I fight because it is my duty to do so. As a skilled warrior, if I do say so myself, it is my obligation to fight on behalf of those who are or would be less capable, to fight the battles that they cannot, to be a champion for them, a hero, a benefactor to mankind. That is why I am here, that is why I fight, that is why I serve Professor Ozpin, though the odds be great and a final victory out of sight and hopeless. Though all those things be true, they do not alter what I owe to Mistral and to Remnant: my sword and shield, my shoulder and my soul—”

“And your life,” Amber whispered.

Pyrrha nodded gravely. “If it comes to it.”

“And it’s that simple?” Amber asked. “You can say those things and … and mean it? You can say those things, and you are not afraid?”

“I am not without fear,” Pyrrha admitted, “but equally, I hope that I am not without courage.”

Amber was silent for a moment. “I was afraid,” she admitted. “I didn’t ask for this, for any of this. I don’t owe anyone anything; why do you think that you owe so much, where does your duty come from?”

“From the fact that I have had a life of luxury and privilege, given everything that I could want or wish for,” Pyrrha said. “I must repay however I can, and this is the only way.”

Amber stared up at her. “You speak so strangely to my ears,” she whispered.

Pyrrha laughed, covering her mouth with one hand. “That is because I am from Mistral, I’m afraid. If you come to visit — when you come, if you still wish to — then I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to the fact that many people speak thus. Mind you, if you spend enough time around Sunset and myself, you will grow well used to it long ere you set eyes upon the White Tower — used to it, or sick of it perhaps, I cannot say which.”

Amber giggled, covering her own mouth in turn, her shoulders quivering up and down. “'Oh, brave new world,'” she whispered.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Amber said quickly. “It’s just … something from a book that Un— that Ozpin gave me. 'Oh, brave new world that has such people in it.'”

“Well, I wouldn’t…” Pyrrha trailed off, finally sitting down beside Amber once more. “You must have been very fond of Professor Ozpin once, to have called him Uncle.” She smiled. “Or perhaps I have misunderstood completely and you once called him Ungulate Ozpin or something of that sort.”

Amber didn’t smile, but then, it had been an appallingly bad attempt at humour.

“I loved him once,” she confessed. “When I thought he loved me too. Before I understood.”

Pyrrha looked away from her, looking at the wall and the open door into the bathroom. “I too have been somewhat disappointed in the professor of late,” she admitted. “And yet, I believe that he means to do good for the world.”

“'For the world,'” Amber said. “But not for me, not for you, not for us. I hate him.” She frowned. “But I don’t want to talk about him. I don’t want to think about him. I wish he wasn’t here. I wish that I’d never met him.” She clasped her hands together, resting them upon her knees. “What’s it like?”

“What … is what like?” asked Pyrrha. “I’m afraid that I don’t follow.”

“A life of luxury and privilege,” Amber said. “That’s what you said, isn’t it? That’s the life you had, in Mistral. That’s the life you gave up to come here and fight.”

“It is not so simple as all that,” Pyrrha said. “My life is still one of luxury and privilege, just in a different setting, and perhaps in a different manner. It was — it is — wonderful in some respects, I will not deny it. You have seen some of the wonderfulness of it already: an expansive wardrobe filled with the finest fashions of Mistral and Atlas. Maids to attend to my needs. The finest weapons created by the master craftsmen of the city. I grew up in a great house, with a large garden … and was never allowed to forget the debt that I owed, the legacy of those who came before that it was my duty to live up to: service, valour … and, if necessary, sacrifice.” She could have gone on, talking about the jealousy, the desire on the part of some to see her brought low, to find some chink in her armour, to chip away at her statue, but she did not wish to speak thus, nor did she think that Amber really wished to hear it. Instead, Pyrrha said, “And what of you? Where did you grow up?”

“In a cabin in the woods, with my mother,” Amber replied. “We … I would say we grew our own food in our garden, but that isn’t strictly true. Well, it is true, but…” She leaned closer to Pyrrha and spoke in a whisper, as though she were confessing some grave secret. “Mother used her magic to make the vegetables grow, so it wasn’t really as hard work as saying that we grew our own food makes it sound.”

Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose. “Your mother … she was a Maiden?” Of course she was, she realised after a moment’s thought; that was how Amber had acquired the powers despite not wishing them.

A mother’s last thoughts of her daughter.

Amber nodded. “She was the Fall Maiden. She didn’t seem to mind, but … but if she hadn’t been, then maybe we wouldn’t have had to live in the woods all alone, hiding from Ozpin’s enemies.”

“Was it a hard life?”

“No,” Amber said quickly, shaking her head. “No, it … it was quite wonderful, really. Not like your life in Mistral at all, but all the same, quite wonderful. We didn’t just grow vegetables but flowers too, roses and violets and camelias. Mother didn’t use her magic on those; we actually had to work to make them grow, only it didn’t seem like work, but fun, tending to them, watering them, watching them spring out of the ground and bloom so beautifully. Because I didn’t have to work to make the cabbages or the cauliflowers grow, I had lots of time to read and sketch and sing — when Mother and Ozpin weren’t making me train, anyway. There was an old ruined chapel near our home, from when there used to be a village there, but it was abandoned and swallowed up by the woods.” Amber paused a moment. “I used to love to go there, to walk in the ruins. There wasn’t a lot left, a few walls that were falling down, some bits of stone here and there, and a statue; a statue of a woman. I don’t know who she was, even Ozpin didn’t know, but she looked so beautiful, so serene, and when I was there, it was like she was always looking down at me, at me specifically, with so much kindness.” She looked at Pyrrha. “Like you.”

Pyrrha let out a little gasping chuckle. “I am not made of stone,” she pointed out.

“No,” Amber admitted. “But … I used to go there and sing. It always felt so…”

“Melancholy?” Pyrrha suggested.

“I suppose,” Amber replied. “But at the same time, I always used to love it there. There was so much peace. So much calm. It was like its own world, that nothing could disturb and nothing bad could happen. Like the statue was watching over me and keeping everything else bay, everything bad anyway. That was one of the things I wanted to go back to.”

She held out her hand, reaching towards Pyrrha without actually touching her.

Pyrrha took her hand once more, squeezing it not too tightly, but gently and — she hoped — reassuringly.

She was curious about what Amber had said, about her mother using the magic of the Maidens to grow vegetables. It made sense, of course; it fit with the story of the original Maidens — they had, after all, revitalised the old man’s garden and brought forth nature’s bounty from it — but it was not something that she had considered before. It was not something that she associated with a great leader or a figure of inspiration.

That is because I am too privileged in upbringing, no doubt. I am sure that to many, the ability to bring forth vegetables out of the earth without much back-breaking labour would be the most inspiring thing they could ever behold.

And, really, what are the powers for if not for such as that? To war? That was not something the original four sisters did, that was not something that inspired the old man and moved him to create the Maidens in the first place, that was … something given to protect them, if it was an intended side-effect at all.

I think, now that I do think on it, that what Amber’s mother did was more in keeping with the intent of he who granted the magic to the First Maidens than anything that I have seen Cinder do, or could have imagined doing with such power myself.

Save, of course, that they were wielded in secret only.

She said, “Amber— makeup!”

Amber jumped a little. “What?”

Pyrrha chuckled. “You came out of the bathroom asking about borrowing either mine or Sunset’s makeup, and then we got to talking and completely forgot about it.”

Amber blinked. “Oh, yes. Yes, I suppose we did, didn’t we?” She looked away. “It doesn’t matter. There’s no point anyway.”

Pyrrha frowned slightly. First the dress, and now this. “Amber,” she said gently, “is something wrong?”

Amber hesitated for a moment, and then for a moment more, before she said, “Isn’t it obvious? What would I do with pretty dresses or with makeup? Look at me! Look at what she did to me. Look at … I’m hideous.”

“No,” Pyrrha said. “No, you aren’t hideous.”

“Yes, I am; look—”

“I am looking,” Pyrrha said, and with her free hand, she reached out and touched Amber’s cheek, turning her head so that Amber was looking at her, and she was looking straight at Amber.

“I see,” Pyrrha said, “a pair of very striking eyes—”

“Set in a ruined face,” Amber said.

“That is not your fault or your doing.”

“But it is my shame,” Amber whispered.

“'Shame'?” Pyrrha repeated. She shook her head. “No, never shame. You should not be ashamed.”

“That’s easy for you to say when you’re beautiful,” Amber said.

Pyrrha had to concede that that was, or at least might be, true. If their positions were reversed, she probably wouldn’t enjoy having the marks of what had been done to her permanently upon her face for all to see either.

“Makeup may conceal it, if you wish,” she suggested. “Although, since both Sunset and I have a paler complexion than you do, I’m not sure that we have the right kind of makeup to suit you. But I do know who will.”

“Who?” Amber asked.

“Ciel Soleil, one of our Atlesian friends,” Pyrrha replied. “She’s always very well put together, and of your colouring; I’ve no doubt that she has something that will suit you perfectly. If you don’t mind, I’ll ask her to come and join us.”

“Is there any point?” asked Amber.

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” Pyrrha said. “You wouldn’t have asked about borrowing our makeup if you didn’t want to look your best, and maybe you can, with Ciel’s help.”

Amber hesitated a moment. “If you say that she’s alright,” she murmured, “then very well, let her come.”

“Excellent,” Pyrrha said quietly. “I’ll just send her a message.”

She turned away and swiftly got out her scroll asking Ciel if she wouldn’t mind coming down to the SAPR dorm room — and bring her makeup with her for Amber.

It did not take long at all — barely after Pyrrha had sent the message — for Ciel to reply that she would be with them directly.

“She’s on her way,” Pyrrha announced as she turned back to face Amber once again, her sash whirling around her as she turned.

“I see,” Amber said, without too much enthusiasm; perhaps she still didn’t believe that much could come from it. She looked past Pyrrha, her eyes glancing around the room. She saw something of interest, although Pyrrha couldn’t immediately tell what it was, and craned her neck to get a better look at it, rising just an inch or two up off the bed. “Is that a guitar?”

Pyrrha looked around to see where Amber was looking: Jaune’s guitar was stored underneath his bed, but the head was just sticking out at present, visible from where Amber was sitting.

“Yes,” Pyrrha said. “Yes, it is.”

“Is it yours?”

“No, it belongs to Jaune,” Pyrrha explained. “I don’t know how to play any instruments — I never had the time to learn — but Jaune plays very well indeed.”

“Can he sing, too?”

Pyrrha beamed. “Yes,” she said, “Yes, he has quite the delightful voice.”

“Does he—?” Amber began, before she was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“I expect that will be Ciel,” Pyrrha said, walking to the door and opening it.

It was indeed Ciel, with a bag hanging from her arm which Pyrrha guessed contained her cosmetics, but she was not alone; Blake stood half a step behind her.

“Blake,” Pyrrha said, “what a pleasant surprise.”

“Your message mentioned makeup for Amber,” Ciel said. “I do not wear eyeshadow, but since Blake has a similar eye-colour to Amber, I thought that she might be able to assist in that regard.”

“I’m not sure they are as similar as all that,” Pyrrha said. “Blake’s eyes are gold; Amber’s eyes are, well, amber.”

“I might be able to help,” Blake said. “Plus, I should probably admit that I’m just a bit curious, since I’m the only one who hasn’t met Amber yet.”

“Well, come in, both of you,” Pyrrha said, retreating to let them in. “Amber, this is our friend Blake.”

“Blake Belladonna,” Blake said, as she shut the door behind her. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Amber said politely. “Both of you. I mean, we didn’t really meet down … down there, did we?”

“I suppose not,” Ciel said. She curtsied. “Ciel Soleil, at your service. Now, I understand you would like some assistance making up your face.”

“Apart from anything else, neither Sunset or I have the right supplies for Amber’s needs,” Pyrrha said. “On account of—”

“The relative pallor your complexions, yes, I see,” Ciel answered before Pyrrha could finish. She walked closer, past Pyrrha to approach Amber. “I … take it you would like to mitigate these tokens of Cinder Fall’s esteem?”

“Can you hide them?” Amber asked. “Completely?”

“'Completely'?” Ciel repeated. “I know not, but I can certainly try.” She opened her bag. “What kind of affect do you usually wear? What kind of look do you aim at?”

“Velvet finish,” Amber said. “I should like to glow. If that’s still possible.”

“Very few things are impossible when an Atlesian puts their mind to it,” Ciel declared. “Now, I usually aim for a more natural matte finish, but I believe that we may achieve a glow with the right application of product. Let us start with some foundation.” She pulled a round compact out of her back, opening it up with a snap to reveal the brown foundation within. “Hold still; don’t move.”

Amber assumed a rigid posture, back straight, hands clasped together.

Ciel bent down, almost bent double as she began to apply the foundation layer to Amber’s face, obscuring her scars; she did not, could not, hide them completely, at least not yet, but nevertheless, the starkness with which they stood out was greatly reduced, a casual observer from a distance might miss them.

As Ciel worked, Amber’s eyes turned their gaze upon Pyrrha once again. “Does Jaune write you love songs?”

“I take it that this is a continuation of your previous conversation, otherwise that would be a little out of nowhere,” Blake observed.

Pyrrha chuckled. “Amber caught sight of Jaune’s guitar. But the answer is no, he’s never written me a song.”

“That’s a pity,” Amber said. “He ought to have.”

“Not everyone can write songs, even if they can play them,” Ciel observed.

“I know, but it doesn’t have to be the best song, so long as it comes from the heart,” Amber declared. She kept her gaze on Pyrrha. “Sunset said that Jaune was your boyfriend.”

Pyrrha nodded. “That’s right, yes.”

“And that you love each other,” Amber went on, “which Sunset said not all … not all girls and their boyfriends love one another.”

“Girlfriend is the feminine,” Ciel murmured.

“That is correct,” Pyrrha said, speaking to Amber rather than Ciel. “I am very fortunate, and well aware of my good fortune.”

“When Sunset says that you love him,” Amber said softly, as soft as a breeze that cools the heat of a summer day, “is he your true love?”

“That’s a phrase rarely spoken,” Blake said.

“What is?” Amber asked.

“True love,” Blake explained. “It’s a very romantic idea, but … a fanciful one, better suited to stories than to real life. You won’t find many takers for it in this day and age.”

“Yet you will find one in this room,” Pyrrha said. “Jaune may not have fallen in love with me at first sight, but from the moment that I set eyes on him, there was … something about him, if only how bright and blue and how beautiful his eyes were, that drew me to him. And then, as I came to know him better, I saw how much more was in him to love, and thank goodness and the wind and sky and all the old gods of my home he came to see the same in me.

“I am not one to put too much stock in an inescapable fate, but within our choosings … Jaune is my destiny, and I am his, and for my part — and I dearly hope for his part as well — I will love none other than him for all my days. If that is not true love, then I would ask you all, what is?”

Amber smiled, as much as Ciel’s work would allow her to. “When Jaune gets back, I’d love to hear all about how the two of you met and fell in love. And then I can ask him why he hasn’t written you a love song yet.”

Pyrrha laughed. “Jaune doesn’t have to do that; he shows his devotion to me in myriad enough other ways already.”

“But it’s so romantic!” Amber insisted. “I wrote a song for Dove … although he never got to hear it.”

Blake frowned slightly. “Dove?”

Amber nodded vigorously.

“Please hold still,” Ciel said.

“Sorry,” Amber repeated. “Dove is my love. He was my love. He … I don’t know where he is, or whether he’s still alive, or whether he still … whether he still remembers me. I’ve … been asleep for a while, haven’t I?”

“Yes,” Blake murmured. “But I’m surprised you’re aware of that.”

“I wasn’t awake,” Amber said softly. “But I was dreaming. I was dreaming for a long time, and while I dreamed … I could feel myself … if it hadn’t been for Sunset, I don’t think I could have lasted much longer.”

“I’m not sure of the exact dates, but I believe it has been about a year that you have slept,” Pyrrha said, “but if Dove really is your true love, then he would wait ten years or more and not forget you. Is that not what true love means?”

“Then where is he?” Amber asked. “He said he’d meet me here, when I went away, when Ozpin told me to come to Beacon, when I … when I became the Fall Maiden. He told me that he’d follow and come to Beacon himself, but Sunset said he isn’t here.”

Sunset, why would you lie to her? Why wouldn’t you tell her that there is a Dove in this school, in our very year? It was not certain, admittedly, that Amber’s Dove and Dove Bronzewing of Team BLBL were one and the same, and Sunset had been in a position to know more about this Dove than Pyrrha was, having seen into Amber’s soul and mind and memories; perhaps it was a completely different person unknown to them.

But the similarities were too great for Pyrrha to dismiss.

“Did Dove … want to become a huntsman?” Pyrrha asked.

“Yes,” Amber said, managing not to nod this time. “He was so chivalrous, like a knight out of the old stories; he wanted to help those in need. He was … he was a lot like you, Pyrrha. He had this book, about a brave knight called Olivia who rode around the kingdom fighting monsters and bringing justice. He wanted to be just like her.”

That settled it; it was Dove Bronzewing, without a doubt. And Sunset would have known that better than Pyrrha did, yet she had lied about it. No doubt that she had meant well, as Sunset almost always meant well, but all the same…

“You loved him,” she whispered.

Amber closed her eyes for a moment. “With all my heart.”

And he is here, so close to you, and yet you are both unaware.

The decision was an easy one. The decision required no thought at all on Pyrrha’s part. She thought of what Sunset had told her, when the decision to take Amber’s soul and magic had been put to her: that Jaune deserved to know about her decision before she made it, deserved to know to what fate she was committing herself. If he had disappeared without trace for a year, or longer, if he had gone away, and they had made plans to reunite, but then, when she came to the appointed spot, he had not been there, then she would want to know what had become of him; more than that, she would give anything to see him again. She hoped that Jaune would feel the same way.

Does he think her dead, like Pylades finding Deianeira’s bloody shawl upon the hillside? Does he think that she perished on the way and never reached Beacon? Will she start to believe the same, thinking he is not here?

It was intolerable. It was not to be borne. She could not leave Amber, or Dove for that matter, to languish in ignorance, to wonder without knowing. She could not leave them to be sundered so; the romantic in her would not bear it.

“Blake, Ciel,” she said, “will you please stay and watch over Amber for a little while? I need to step outside.”

Blake was looking at her, eyes narrowed somewhat; Pyrrha was certain that Blake, too, realised that it was certainly Dove Bronzewing who was Amber’s love, who had promised to meet her here and who had kept his promise, little knowing that Amber had been delayed by Cinder’s malice.

Blake was not quite such a romantic as Pyrrha was, but she did not attempt to persuade Pyrrha not to do this. She simply gave a brisk nod of the head and said quietly, “Of course. I’ll be here when you get back.”

Ciel might not be so certain as to who Dove was as the two of them, but she glanced briefly over her shoulder and said, “And I, too.”

“Thank you, both of you,” Pyrrha said, although in truth, if Ciel had been on her own Pyrrha might not have left her; no offence to Ciel, but Pyrrha did not think that she was a brilliant close-quarters fighter, whereas Blake was very talented in that regard. Amber would be safe in her charge, no doubt, at least for a little while.

“Where are you going?” asked Amber plaintively.

“Oh, I just need to step out for a short while,” Pyrrha told her, because would it not be the most wonderful surprise? “I’ll be back very soon, I promise.”

“Alright,” Amber replied. “I’ll be here.”

Pyrrha smiled at her, then turned away, walking to the door and then walking out into the corridor.

She turned in the direction of Team BLBL’s dorm room.

“Pyrrha?”

Pyrrha stopped and twisted her body around to look over her shoulder behind her. Sunset stood there, a slight furrow on her brow, her tail swishing backwards and forwards.

“Sunset,” Pyrrha said. “I’m … going to see Dove.”

“Ah,” Sunset said. “So you’ve found out then?”

“Yes,” Pyrrha replied, a touch of stiffness in her voice. “Amber has not concealed the fact. She has been free with it, and free with the fact that you told her Dove was not to be found.”

Sunset reached behind her, scratching her head. “Something I felt was necessary until I’d spoken with Professor Ozpin—”

“Since when do you need to consult with Professor Ozpin before you act?” Pyrrha asked. “Do you not think that Amber has a right to know? You must know better than I how well she loves him—”

“And that is why I counselled Professor Ozpin that they should be allowed to meet,” Sunset said, before Pyrrha could go on any further, “and he has accepted the wisdom of my argument.”

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. “I … see,” she murmured. “You make me feel an ass for misjudging you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sunset assured her. “You … I’m surprised you were just going to go and break the news to her without asking anyone’s permission.”

“I don’t need Professor Ozpin’s permission to do what is right,” Pyrrha said. She then realised abruptly that that could be taken as a knock on Sunset, and so she added, “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine; it’s all fine,” Sunset told her, holding her hands up. “I get it. I sort of get it. You two must have hit it off in there while I was gone.”

Pyrrha smiled. “She’s a very nice girl,” she said. “Kind, I think, although she has had little opportunity to do me kindness; nevertheless, she is kindly spoken, polite and gentle in her words. Romantic, as I am, someone who would enjoy fine things if she possessed any. Sweet, and scared, and vulnerable. I would need a harder heart than I possess to be blind or deaf to her plight and not to wish to help her how I can. And since I cannot challenge Cinder to a battle to the death a second time, and so banish her shadow from over Amber … I can at least reunite her with her love.” She paused a moment. “You were in her soul; does she love him as much as she seems to?”

Sunset smirked. “Oh, yes, absolutely.” She sighed. “Of course, that doesn’t answer the question of whether he loves her.”

“Can it be doubted?” Pyrrha asked.

“Can it be taken for granted?” asked Sunset in response.

Pyrrha smiled. “Sun, Ren, excellent ladies will always acquire a devoted young man who will not stray.” No matter how much provocation they are offered, in Sun’s case.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose, and a smile played across her lips as she said, “To which list we might add Jaune, no?”

“That would require me to call myself an excellent lady,” Pyrrha pointed out, “and I would not wish to be thought too egotistical.”

Sunset shook her head. “So, we will put our trust in Dove.”

“And our trust in love,” Pyrrha added.

“Professor Ozpin fears that a weak reed on which to place his hopes,” Sunset murmured.

“And yet, what is love but a form of devotion?” Pyrrha said. “And why are we here, what do we fight for, if not because we are devoted to something, we love something, that drives us on? If love cannot be trusted, then how can any of us possess his faith?”

Sunset glanced away for a moment, not replying, until she said, “Well, as I told you, Professor Ozpin has agreed that Dove should find out the truth.”

“I am glad,” Pyrrha said. “Although I would have told them anyway, nevertheless … I am glad that he agrees with us. To think that he would choose to keep them apart … I told Amber that he was not a cruel man, and it gladdens my heart that I have not been proven wrong so quickly.” She paused. “You went to Professor Ozpin to win this right, so I will return inside and grant you the honour.”

“'Honour'?”

“Amber will be delighted, I’ve no doubt,” Pyrrha said.

“Indeed,” Sunset murmured. “In truth, I think that is one reason why Professor Ozpin is allowing this. I pointed out to him the consequences if … well, if you had gone to Dove yourself and I had seemed like a liar in her eyes. As it is, she will be grateful … but there is no reason we should not share in her delight.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t desire to hoard it to myself; the more she likes us all, the better,” Sunset replied. “And besides, you were going to go and do this thing even without permission; some might say that makes you nobler than I.”

“And some might say that you are wiser than myself,” Pyrrha countered, “but let us go together then, as swift as fairies girding the surface of the world, and bring these two young lovers to a meeting place.”

Sunset chuckled. “I think you relish this prospect, don’t you?”

“I do,” Pyrrha admitted. “So much so that I would not delay any further. Shall we?”

Sunset surprised Pyrrha somewhat by taking her arm, placing her gloved hand upon Pyrrha’s elbow as the two of them began to walk down the corridor.

Sunset glanced up at her. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Pyrrha chuckled. “Not at all,” she said. “With regards to my enthusiasm, I don’t see how anyone could call themselves a romantic and not be moved both to sympathy with Amber — and with Dove, poor Dove, what he must have suffered this past year.”

“He did not seem to be suffering too greatly,” Sunset pointed out.

“All the more reason to admire him keeping his pain so well concealed,” Pyrrha said.

“Is it good to keep pain concealed?” asked Sunset.

“Probably not,” Pyrrha conceded. “But one must admire the effort nonetheless. In any event, as I said, as a romantic … how can I not be excited at this? How can I not wish to see them reunited?”

Sunset said nothing; she only chuckled lightly as they went along.

Team BLBL did not reside as close by to the SAPR dorm room as Team YRBN did; in fact, they were slightly further away than Team WWSR, but nevertheless, they were in the same building, and it did not take Pyrrha and Sunset long at all to reach their room and stand in front of their door.

The BLBL door had a lark badge pinned to it, made of silver, a reminder to all visitors of what they had lost and explanation of why they were reduced in number.

Pyrrha knocked upon the door.

The door opened. Bon Bon stood in the doorway, regarding her with a wariness that Pyrrha could not help but feel she did not deserve.

“Pyrrha,” Bon Bon said cautiously. “Can I help you…?” — her voice cooled noticeably upon her spotting Sunset — “both of you?”

“Hello,” Pyrrha said. “I was wondering if Dove was here?”

“Yes,” Dove said, appearing into view behind Bon Bon. “Yes, I’m here. Did you need something?”

“Yes, we’d like you to come with me, back to Team Sapphire’s room,” Pyrrha said. “Now, if you don’t mind.”

“Come with you?” Dove repeated. “Why?”

“Just come with us; it’s best if you see for yourself,” Sunset said. “It’ll be worth it, we promise.”

Dove hesitated for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. “All right, if you say so.”

“Are you sure?” Bon Bon asked.

“Why not?” Dove asked. “It’s not like Pyrrha’s going to lure me there to pull a prank or something, is it?”

“I … suppose not,” Bon Bon murmured, getting out of the way and letting Dove leave the dorm room.

He shut the door behind him. “I’m sorry about that,” he said. “Bon Bon is … Sky’s death has left her…”

“Yeah,” Sunset muttered, thrusting her hands into her jacket pockets. “Yeah, I can imagine.”

And I am profoundly grateful that we need do no more than imagine, Pyrrha thought.

“It’s been hard on both of them, but on Bon Bon especially,” Dove said.

“And you?” asked Pyrrha.

“I…” Dove trailed off. “When I first came to Beacon, I was … a bit of a mess, emotionally. I tried not to burden Yang or Nora or Ren with it too much, I was worried about what they’d think of me, I didn’t want to be a bother … Lyra and Bon Bon were there for me. They became my strength. Now it’s my turn to be strong for them.”

“I see,” Pyrrha said. “In any case, please, follow us.”

And Dove did follow, obediently and quietly, not asking her what waited for him in the dorm room, merely following as Pyrrha retraced her steps back to Team SAPR’s room.

“And here we are,” Sunset said.

“So I see,” Dove replied. “But I still don’t see why.”

Pyrrha opened the door for him, and as she did so, she found she could not keep the smile off her face.

“Go inside,” she said. “Please.”

Dove looked a little confused, but he did go in, just as she had bade him do. He went inside, and there beheld her.

“Amber?” His voice was as quiet as a whisper and as loud as a thunderclap, he spoke with shock, and yet, he shocked also, reducing the room — Blake, Ciel, and Amber of course — to silence.

“Dove!” Amber cried, leaping to her feet.

Ciel dropped her makeup, and she and Blake retreated out of the way, leaving a clear path between Dove and Amber.

A path which neither of them took. Rather they stood, Dove in the doorway, Amber by the bed, staring at one another with eyes wide in awed amazement.

“Dove,” Amber said, her voice trembling. “It … it’s you.”

“It is,” Dove said, a smile spreading across his face, delight shining in his eyes of blue. “It is, it’s me, Amber, I—” He took a step towards her.

Amber let out a little shriek as she turned away from him, covering her face with both hands. “No! Come no closer!” she cried, her voice muffled somewhat by her hands. “You … you must not look on me. I … I am not as I was.”

Dove stopped, his hands which had raised up to take her in his arms now falling back to his sides again. “Amber. I came, just as I promised I would. I’ve been here for a year.”

Amber’s only reply was a sort of sobbing sound.

“I looked for you,” Dove said. “I looked for you at the school, and in Vale. I … learned nothing. Amber … where have you been?”

She did not reply.

Dove walked towards her, reaching out to her. He placed his hands upon her shoulders. “Amber, please look at me. Look at me, and let me look on you.”

“No,” Amber replied. “This is not the face that you have dreamt of.”

Dove spun her around on her toes, softly and slowly but inexorably nonetheless, turning her in his direction. He did not speak, nor did anyone else. There was silence in the room — Pyrrha did not even dare to shut the door and so disturb the mood — as Dove took Amber by the arms and slowly pulled them away from her face.

Amber gasped and kept her head bowed, her bobbed hair falling down somewhat to shield it from view.

Dove tilted her chin, so that he looked at him and he could see her; Ciel had done what she could in the time that Pyrrha had given her, but nevertheless, the scars that Cinder had given her were plain to see — or at least, they would be plain for Dove to see, so close to her.

His voice, when it came, was a hoarse whisper, husky; Pyrrha had to strain to hear it. “You are as beautiful as a moonlit night.”

“'Beautiful'?” Amber repeated. “I have been … marked.”

“So is the moon,” Dove said, “but it is still beautiful, though not as beautiful as you.” He stroked her face, cupping her cheek with one hand as he smiled down at her. “And besides, you worry so much, you fear to let me see a face that I have seen before so many times.”

“You have?” Amber gasped. “How? When?”

Dove’s smile broadened and brightened. “Once upon a dream.”

Amber let out a ragged sound, a squealing gasp of delight that might have contained an exclamation of Dove’s name within it as she melted into his arms.

They kissed. Pyrrha barely heard the door shut after her — Sunset must have closed it with her telekinesis — because her attention was so held by the kiss, by the way that Dove held her face in his hands, by the way that Amber threw her arms around his shoulders, by the way that she did not have to rise up on her toes to reach his mouth because the two of them fit as though they had been made for one another. The way his hands moved from her face down her body, pulling her in tight, so tight it was as though he meant to never let her go again.

Pyrrha’s hands clasped together above her heart. I do believe I have done well this day.

They broke apart, if only barely; Dove’s cheeks were flushed, and both he and Amber were breathless. He looked at Pyrrha; they both looked at Pyrrha.

“I stand amazed,” Dove declared. “How is this possible? Surely this is a miracle? To what god should I give thanks, before the thanks that are justly due to you?”

Pyrrha laughed. “A miracle indeed, though from other powers than those of heaven sent.” She paused. “All … all that you need know will be revealed to you, of how this was done and what and why, in time.” That left some latitude in what precisely to tell him, but surely, he would have to be told something; he would not be satisfied else. “But for now, rejoice, be merry, hold each other close, for you are … you are together once again. Let that be enough.”

“Thank you, Pyrrha, and you, Sunset,” Amber said. “This is … it’s just like a dream! How could I ever, why … thank you, so much.”

Sunset bowed with an elaborate flourish of her arms.

Pyrrha curtsied, placing one hand above her heart. “You’re very welcome.”

“Let it be enough,” Dove murmured. He looked at Amber once again. “Yes. Yes, it is more than enough.”

As they kissed again, Pyrrha knew that they had done very well this day.

And whatever befell in consequence, they would not regret it.

Author's Note:

The image of Pyrrha and Amber (and I admit that I really wanted a picture of Amber) is by the talented McMystery, who also did the last picture to be featured in this story.

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