SAPR

by Scipio Smith

Reliquary (New)

Reliquary

“That was nice,” Lyra said. “I had fun tonight.”

Bon Bon snorted. “Spying on Dove and Amber?”

“We were not spying!”

Bon Bon smirked. “Lyra, there’s no one here but us; we can admit it.”

Lyra folded her arms. “Well … okay, so maybe we were, but it’s not like that’s all we were doing. And we were with one another, so … I still had fun tonight.”

“Yeah. Me too,” Bon Bon said.

Lyra grinned. “It’s nice to have stuff to smile about, isn’t it? We … I thought that things were going to be … this is nice. It’s … a reminder that good things can still happen.”

Bon Bon’s smirk turned into a full-fledged smile. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Yeah, it is.”

The two of them were headed back towards their dorm room, and for a moment, there was no sound but their feet upon the stairs, a thump, thump, thump as they ascended one stair after another.

Lyra frowned. “Hey, Bon Bon?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you think’s going to happen next year?” asked Lyra.

Bon Bon blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean … well, Amber’s not going to be here forever, is she?” Lyra pointed out. “She’s not going to spend the next three years living in Team Sapphire’s dorm room.”

That was true, and would have been true even had Amber not been the Fall Maiden. As Amber was the Fall Maiden, it was even more true than Lyra knew.

Amber, the Fall Maiden; that was a thing that was marvellous and terrible, a thing that Bon Bon really, really wished that she wasn’t. A thing that was so very hard to believe: that Amber, this sweet, unassuming girl who did not look at all as though she belonged in the middle of this game of gods and monsters, this girl who looked as out of place in all of this as Bon Bon herself, held the power that monsters like Cinder and Tempest were so assiduously seeking, the power that was one of the main prizes in this struggle and a key for unlocking even greater prizes still.

Amber was the key to all of this. Amber was the brass ring. Amber was the Fall Maiden.

Amber was dear to Dove. Amber was humble and kind. Amber was no warrior.

It was hard to reconcile it all in Bon Bon’s mind, and the only point that was clear to her was that Amber didn’t belong here.

So, yes, Lyra was right, more right than she could understand. To be honest, Bon Bon wasn’t sure what Amber was still doing here; it was daylight madness to let her stay in Beacon, roam in Vale, even protected by Team Sapphire. Unless Professor Ozpin was so confident in the strength of her bodyguards.

Or he was letting Amber stay in Vale for the Vytal Festival because the Vytal Festival was awesome, and he wanted to give her a treat.

That … that was nice of him, if so. A little stupid, maybe, but nice all the same.

But that niceness wouldn’t last forever. At some point, and if Bon Bon was right, then it would be at some point after the Vytal Festival, then Amber would be bundled off to … where? Well, that didn’t really matter did it? Somewhere safe, somewhere Cinder couldn’t find her, somewhere quiet, somewhere they didn’t know.

“No,” Bon Bon answered. “No, I don’t suppose she will. I mean, if you’re not a huntress in training, then why would you want to stick around here when you could go somewhere else, do … something you really want to?”

Hide and hope not to get found again.

“What if Dove goes with her?” asked Lyra softly.

Bon Bon blinked. “Huh?”

“Come on, don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it!”

“Um, well, I—”

Lyra rolled her eyes. “You’re hopeless, honestly. You’ve been here the same as me, you’ve seen the way that he looks at her, you’ve seen the way that they are together, and you’ve seen how he was the whole year when he couldn’t find her, and he thought that she was gone.”

“Dove is serious about being a huntsman,” Bon Bon pointed out. “He’s more serious than you.” And definitely more serious than me.

“Well, I’m serious about talking about this, and I’m not going to let you deflect me with an insult so that we end up fighting instead,” Lyra declared. “Dove, yes, Dove was serious; he had serious, good reasons for wanting to become a huntsman. But he’s also serious about Amber. I just … I don’t think he’ll want to let her go again, to let her leave, go somewhere else where they’ll be apart. Somewhere there’s a chance that she’ll disappear again, or worse … what if the people who attacked her before come after her again? If Dove was here instead of where she was, even if that was just in Vale, then … he wouldn’t be able to take it, would he?”

“No,” Bon Bon murmured. “No, he wouldn’t.”

“So,” Lyra went on. “If he goes with her, if he leaves Beacon to be with her — and, honestly, I think he should—”

“You do?” asked Bon Bon. “Give up his dreams for love?”

“Amber is his true dream,” Lyra replied. “And he won’t let her go, and he shouldn’t.”

“No,” Bon Bon murmured. “No, he shouldn’t. He … if Dove can be happy, then he should be, and if Amber makes him happy, then he should be with her. Like you said, he’s already lost her once; I wouldn’t ask him to take that risk again.”

“But, that leaves the question, doesn’t it?” Lyra said. “What’s going to become of us? You can’t have a team of two people, especially not two people who…”

“Speak for yourself,” Bon Bon muttered. She folded her arms. “But I know what you mean.” She paused for a moment. “What if … what if we left too?”

“Huh?”

Bon Bon shrugged. “I mean, you say things like … you imply things like we’re not good enough to be here; have you thought of just … walking away? Quitting while we’re ahead?”

“It would be a simple answer, I guess,” Lyra admitted. “But it feels … doesn’t it feel a little bit like betraying Sky’s memory? I mean, he gave his life, and we’re just—”

“Sky wouldn’t want us to join him,” Bon Bon pointed out. “I mean … it’s a possibility, don’t you think?”

“And do what instead?” Lyra asked.

“Go back to Atlas?” Bon Bon suggested. “Live in Vale, if you’d rather? I … I’ve got some money from my trust fund; we could … get a house, get jobs, get ordinary lives. Peaceful lives. We’re not heroes, Lyra, so why … why pretend we are and risk being worse?”

She was possibly laying it on a bit too thick for Lyra’s liking, but now that Lyra had raised the idea, Bon Bon found it tempting, very tempting: just walk away, away from everything, Tempest and Cinder and all the rest, just leave. Turn around and go. Shrug it all off. Be something, someone, else. Completely different.

Of course, Lyra wasn’t quite in her position, so maybe she wasn’t in the mood for the hard sell.

“I, uh, I don’t know,” Lyra murmured. “I mean, I get what you’re saying, but … maybe. I don’t know.”

“We don’t have to decide right away,” Bon Bon assured her. “It was just … an idea. But Dove hasn’t even left yet.”

“Right,” Lyra agreed. “We’ve got time.”

They rounded a corner, turning into the corridor that would lead straight on to their dorm room.

Tempest Shadow was leaning against the wall, barring the way to their door.

“You.” The word was out of Bon Bon’s mouth before she could stop it, half-growled, almost spat.

“Bon Bon?” Lyra asked.

Tempest peeled herself off the wall. “Good evening,” she said calmly, almost softly. “I’m sorry about the intrusion, but I was hoping for a word with you.”

“You … you’re Trixie’s teammate, aren’t you?” Lyra asked. “Do you and Bon Bon know each other?”

“A little,” Bon Bon muttered. She took a deep breath. “Lyra … could you give us a second? I’ll be right on through; I just need to talk to Tempest for a moment.”

“Thank you,” Tempest said, quietly and without any smugness.

Bon Bon would have told her to get lost, that she had nothing to say to her, but that would have meant explaining to Lyra why she was being so hostile. Better to get Lyra inside, out of the way, and then she could tell Tempest to take a running jump.

“Okay,” Lyra said. “Well … have fun, I guess.”

“Mmh,” Bon Bon muttered wordlessly, smiling tightly as Lyra left, walking past Tempest — who didn’t try to stop her — down the corridor.

She looked at Bon Bon — and at Tempest — as she reached the door, and then she disappeared into the dorm room.

“I’ve got nothing to say to you,” Bon Bon said.

“Then listen,” Tempest said. “And walk with me.”

“Why?” Bon Bon asked. “Why would I want to go anywhere with you?”

“Because you want to protect Amber,” Tempest said. “Don’t you?”

“And you wanted…” Bon Bon lowered her voice. “You wanted to kill her the last time we spoke; now, I can still—”

“Yes, yes, I know that you can; I haven’t come here to ask you to change your mind about that, but…” Tempest looked around. “This really would be much better if we could talk about it somewhere else where we might not be overheard.”

“Too bad,” Bon Bon said.

Tempest took a deep breath. “I suppose I haven’t given you much reason to trust me,” she admitted, “but … you can’t keep Amber safe forever just by threatening to expose me to my fellow Atlesians. I’m not that important. If Cinder doesn’t come for her, then it will be someone else, someone new. You know this, don’t you?” She didn’t wait for Bon Bon to answer; instead, she barreled on ahead. “But I know how Amber can keep herself safe, for good, for the rest of her life—”

“The life you wanted to end.”

“I was stupid, okay,” Tempest said. “I hadn’t thought about it; I was fixated on … hear me out. Please. For Amber’s sake … if she gives up the Relic, then there is no more reason to go after her. That’s what I came here to say.”

Bon Bon’s eyes widened. “The Fall Maiden—”

“Matters because only the Fall Maiden can retrieve the Relic,” Tempest said. “The magic … it’s powerful, but it doesn’t really matter. There are other powers, other magics; we can make do without. It’s only the Relic that is essential; that’s what matters. If Amber gives the Relic up to us, then she can go.”

Bon Bon took a step back. It was … she wasn’t Amber, obviously, but from her perspective, it was tempting. It was more than tempting; it was … it seemed a little too good to be true, honestly. “Cinder—”

“Has screwed up too much to deserve consideration,” Tempest said. “Once we have the Relic, then Cinder will be getting a short, sharp stab in the back.”

“When?”

“You can’t expect us to give up all our cards too early, can you?” Tempest asked. “We need some way of keeping Amber honest. Assuming that she’s willing to do it.”

Bon Bon was silent for a moment. Assuming. Would Amber be willing to do it? She didn’t seem like the hero type. There were certain kinds of people that you knew immediately that they would never, not in a million years, go for a deal like this. There were certain kinds of people who would reject it, instantly, because they were heroes, and heroes didn’t do that kind of thing.

But Amber … Amber didn’t seem like a hero. Of course, there was a long distance between saying that someone wasn’t a hero and that they would be willing to give up a powerful magical artefact to enemies on the promise of safe passage and a way out of this fight, but…

Amber seemed mostly to care about Dove; she didn’t seem interested in this fight, she never talked about it, she didn’t talk about herself as a hero, a warrior, only as a victim.

And a victim would take any chance to escape.

And this… “How do I know I can trust you?” she asked. “How do you expect me to trust you?”

Tempest frowned. “What sort of proof can I offer?” she asked. “What sort of proof would you like?”

Bon Bon’s eyebrows rose. “I can name it?”

“This is important,” Tempest said. “As I told you before, this is the lynchpin of the entire Vale operation. If we get the Relic, then nothing else matters; if we don’t, then nothing else that we accomplish matters.”

Bon Bon thought about it. If Tempest was right, then yeah, it was definitely a tempting offer. If she could be sure, if she could trust Tempest, then…

Then Amber would be safe. Amber would be free. Amber and Dove could skip off and live happily ever after.

If only Bon Bon could trust Tempest.

But how? What could Tempest do to prove to her that this offer was genuine?

‘Turn yourself in’ was the obvious answer, but then how would they get in contact to arrange Amber handing over the Relic? ‘Kill Cinder’ was another one, but Tempest seemed to have made clear that that wasn’t going to happen yet.

“Kill Cinder?” Bon Bon suggested, because it was worth trying. “Now?”

Tempest raised one eyebrow.

“So I don’t get to name the price completely, then,” Bon Bon said.

“No,” Tempest said quietly. “Not completely. But if there’s anyone else that you want killing—”

“No,” Bon Bon said quickly. “No, I don’t think that’s … no. I want … I want…”

What could she ask? What could Tempest do? What could she do to prove to Bon Bon that she was in earnest and that Amber really would be safe if she went through with this?

“Give me a weapon I can use against you,” Bon Bon said. “Give me something that I can use to protect Amber from you if you turn on her, and I’ll trust you enough to take your offer to her.”

“Will she accept it?” Tempest asked.

“I don’t know,” Bon Bon admitted, “but you’ll have to trust that I will advocate for you.”

That would be a risk on her part, because if Amber wasn’t the sort of person who would take such an offer, then she would have no reason not to turn Bon Bon in — after all, she would have to reveal her allegiances in order to persuade Amber. But the prize, in Bon Bon’s opinion, was worth it: safety for Amber and Dove, the possibility of redemption for Amber herself. Happy endings all around.

No more target on Amber’s back, no more possibility of Amber and Dove being torn asunder, no more risk that their story would come to a tragic end, no more darkness hanging over them. Nothing but light and love, nothing but happiness; it was perfect, really.

And all it would take would be proof of trust.

Tempest was silent for a moment. “Very well,” she said. “I will be back with something that I think will satisfy you.” She paused. “Until then, you’d better get inside your room, hadn’t you? We wouldn’t want you to keep Lyra waiting.”

---

Pyrrha was momentarily lost for words. Amber was … Amber was going to take them to the Relic?

She was going to show them where the Relic of Choice could be found?

One of the four Relics, the four keys that Salem and her forces were seeking, and Amber was going to show it to them?

It sounded … absurd, and yet, at the same time, for all its absurdity, it was a great honour also. A great honour to be shown this wondrous thing, this thing that it was Amber’s sacred charge to guard, passed down to her from her mother and the Maidens of the past, this precious gift. This gift that she wished to share with them.

It was a great honour, and yet, at the same time, utterly absurd that she would show them this precious thing, this hidden thing, this thing that was so sought after, this thing that, if found, could have such consequence. Why would Amber wish to show it to any of them?

Why would Amber do such a thing, take such a risk?

I suppose I could ask her, since she’s standing right here.

“Why?” Pyrrha asked, finding her voice. “Why would you—?”

“Because,” Amber said, before Pyrrha could finish. “Because I…” She fussed with one of her golden bands, turning it around and around upon her wrist. “Because … I might die,” she said softly, so softly that the night air nearly stole her words and snatched them away ere they reached the ears of Pyrrha or those who stood with her.

“Amber,” Pyrrha said, in almost equal softness but, she hoped, a little more audible. “You will not die.”

“I might.”

“Not while we live,” Pyrrha declared. “And Sunset lives. Is that not so?” she asked, looking at Ruby and at Penny where they stood on either side of her.

Ruby was looking at Pyrrha, not at Amber, and Pyrrha found that she could guess, or thought that she could guess, what Ruby was thinking.

“Now you agree that there are things worth dying for?”

I never … well, alright, Ruby, yes I suppose I did.

And yes, I would give my life for Amber, for duty’s sake and also … and also because … because she has been ill-used in this, plunged into the midst of darkness and death through no want of her own, put at risk through no want of her own, that is something, it strikes me, that is worth protecting, even at the greatest of hazards if we must.

In the mythology of Mistral, there were women, young women, maidens if you would, whom the gods … to put it delicately, more delicately that it probably deserved to be put, took their maidenheads from, and as some kind of recompense, bestowed upon them immortality. An immortality that they had not asked for, had not sought, that condemned them to watching their fathers, mothers, brothers die before them, to take no husbands, to live in no way the lives that they had expected before their beauty caught the eyes of lusty divinities.

Amber, it seemed to Pyrrha, was much the same. Yes, she had not been deflowered by Professor Ozpin, he had not taken her for his pleasure beneath a tree somewhere, but he had made her something else than she had been, he had bestowed on her a great gift, a gift that had twisted her life beyond Amber’s expectations, that had made it so that she could not live the life that she had wanted.

She was a victim in all of this. Pyrrha felt that if one were to conjure up the ideal of the sort of person a huntress was meant to defend, it would look somewhat like Amber.

And, on top of all of that, Pyrrha felt there was a … a connection between them.

She had been chosen to be Amber’s heir, her inheritor, in a sense, in more senses than one. To inherit not only her powers but also perhaps some of her personality too.

She had been chosen, and then asked to choose. She had not chosen, Sunset had made it so that she did not have to choose, but nevertheless, the very act of having been chosen created a bond between her and Amber; though she had not spoken of it to Amber herself, Pyrrha felt it there regardless.

Why should I not fight for her with all that I possess?

“I don’t want you to die for me,” Amber said. “I don’t want anyone to … that’s not what I meant, that’s not why I … please, just listen.”

She paused. She breathed in and out. She looked down and clasped at the open sleeve that fell off her shoulder and fell down her side as part of the borrowed red dress.

“If I die,” she repeated. “If they kill me, then … then I will think of you. I will try and think of you, anyway, one of you, or Sunset, the people, the girls who I…” She smiled. “You’re my first friends. I’ve never had any friends before Sunset woke me, before you. Living in the forest, there was just my mother and me and Ozpin, and then I met Dove, but … well, if I had any other friends, I don’t remember them, and Dove hasn’t mentioned them either, so … you are my friends. You’re my first and only friends. Dove is my friend, but you … you’re dear to me, and you can inherit the Maiden powers, while Dove and Jaune can’t, and so if I die, I will … I’ll try and give the powers to you, if I can.”

If you can, Pyrrha thought. If the powers do not simply seek to reunite in Cinder. Professor Ozpin, after all, had thought it likely that they would. Thought it possible, at the very least, although they had also thought that perhaps those powers that still resided in Amber would transfer after the usual fashion — but to Cinder again, as the last person in Amber’s thoughts.

That was not the case at the moment, and might not be the case again.

“And so,” Amber went on, “if that happens, if one of you becomes the next Fall Maiden, then … then I want you to know where the Relic is, how to get to it. I don’t want you to rely on Ozpin telling you; I want you to be … I want you to be able to be free of him.”

“Amber,” Pyrrha murmured. “This … this is a great honour that you offer us, but I’m not sure that … your words are kind and generous, but perhaps a little too grim; I would not have you look forward to your death in such a fashion.”

“I can see the sense in it,” Ruby said. “Not because I think that Amber’s going to die, because she isn’t, but … if the enemy, if Cinder, finds out where the Relic is, then if Amber is the only one who knows, then she’ll have to go there. But if she tells us now where to go, then Amber can stay safe, and we can go and confront Cinder or whoever on her behalf.”

“You speak good sense,” Pyrrha conceded. “Perhaps it is as well that we know, just in case.”

“If this is what you want,” Penny said, “but don’t you trust us to protect you? To keep you safe?”

“I trust you to try,” Amber replied.

“But not to succeed?” asked Penny.

Amber said, “It’s all so dangerous. And she’s so powerful.”

That is the counsel of despair. Would that Sunset were here to conjure up some words to drive it off. “Is there nothing that we may say that may cause you to have hope?” Pyrrha asked. “Nothing to make you feel … our enemies are many, and they are powerful, that is true, but we are not dead yet, none of us. You were … many thought that you must surely perish, but here you are, well and happy, and in love. Loving and beloved, as some might say. You are alive, and we are all still alive, and despite the stretching forth of great powers against us, despite their attempts to kill and to defeat us, we are alive, and we have triumphed against these grave enemies. We are alive, and where are our foes? Defeated, their plans in ruins, whipped curs licking their injuries.”

That was, perhaps — more than perhaps — over-egging things a little bit when it came to Cinder, who had been in fine form when they had left her last, but even she … powerful as she might be, it was difficult to see what she might do next, her dust used up, her stratagem failed.

Of course, that was not to say that it would remain thus always, but … things were not so bleak as Amber painted them.

“Things are not so bleak,” Pyrrha went on, because she thought that sounded rather good. “Please, Amber, I would not have you lose all hope. I would have you smile, if you can.”

“I can smile,” Amber replied, and proved it with a soft smile, albeit a sad smile, it seemed to Pyrrha. “Thanks to you, and all of you, and Dove, thanks to all the things that you do for me, I can smile. I can smile at the light in the darkness, but that doesn’t make the darkness disappear.”

“No,” Pyrrha admitted. “No, I concede that it does not. And Ruby does make a very good point. Penny, would you like to see the Relic?”

“I’m not sure that I want to,” Penny admitted. “I don’t know if it’s something worth seeing or not, but I can see it might be useful to know where it is, and if Amber wants to show it to me, then that’s very nice of you. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Amber said. “I’m telling you that I might pass my curse onto you.”

“Oh,” Penny said. “Well, I’m sure you’d only do that in a nice way.”

Amber stared at her. Then she grinned. Then she looked as though she was trying to stifle a laugh, her mouth crinkling and her cheeks bulging a little. Then the laugh broke out of her mouth.

Ruby snorted. Pyrrha chuckled softly.

“That didn’t come out right!” Penny protested. “But I know what I meant!”

“Yes,” Amber agreed. “Yes, we know. The kindest of curses. Never was a curse meant so well and given with such affection.”

“Then maybe it isn’t a curse,” Penny suggested. “Can a gift from a friend ever be a curse?”

“If you gave a friend a poisonous snake or something,” Ruby said.

“But why would you want to give your friend something like that?” asked Penny.

“Because … that’s a good point; I don’t know.”

“It is a curse,” Amber said. “It was not meant as a curse, at first, but … but it has become one.”

“But a curse which must be borne,” Pyrrha said. “But we will help you bear it, while we can, if we can, and if that means that we will see where the Relic is kept, then let us go … once Sunset arrives.”

---

Sunset was holding her jacket in one hand, draped across her shoulder like a pelisse, as she walked into the dorm room.

“Hey,” she said, “I’m back.”

She need hardly have said that, because not only was it self-evident that she was back — otherwise, she wouldn’t have been in much position to say it, would she? — but also because everyone was looking at her, as if their eyes had been fixed upon the door, waiting for her to come in.

“Hello,” Sunset said. “Is there something I can do for you?” She noticed that Penny was there, sitting on Ruby’s bed next to Ruby. “Um, sorry, Penny, that might have sounded rude, hey, it’s nice to see you, I didn’t notice you because I was distracted by the mildly creepy staring.”

“That’s fine,” Penny assured her. “I’m not upset.”

Amber got up off of her borrowed bed. She was wearing one of Pyrrha’s dresses, albeit one which suited her pretty well. Sunset wondered what they’d done to lift up the hem; it was very good, she couldn’t see how it was being done.

“You need to come with us,” she said, “I mean, I’d like for you to come with us, with Pyrrha and Ruby and Penny; I want to show you how to get to the Relic of Choice.”

Sunset blinked. “Hello, Sunset, how was your evening? Oh, it was all right; we couldn’t find a restaurant to take us in anywhere, but we had some fun prowling the streets of Vale and ended up hearing mermaids down by the docks. How was your evening, guys? Well, we decided to go and look at the Relic of Choice, and you should come too!”

Amber sniggered. “I’m sorry, I suppose it is a little abrupt. It made more sense, considering that I’d already talked to Ruby and Pyrrha and Penny about it; I forgot that it would seem very strange to you.”

“Ruby and Penny and Pyrrha,” Sunset murmured. She glanced at Jaune. “Ladies’ night?”

Jaune shrugged, a sheepish smile upon his face. “I can’t become a Maiden, so…”

Sunset’s brow furrowed a little bit. “So … why?” she asked.

“We might need to know,” Ruby said. “In case we have to defend the Relic from Salem’s forces, it would be good if we knew where it was, and Amber wouldn’t have to lead us there.”

Sunset nodded. “Okay, yes, that is a reason…” She looked at Amber. “I’m not sure it’s a reason that you would come up with, Amber, no offence.”

“None taken,” Amber said quietly. “I’m not very martially minded, I know.”

“So—”

“Do Amber’s reasons matter?” asked Pyrrha. “They’re a little … melancholy, shall we say?”

“I … I suppose they don’t technically matter,” Sunset admitted, “but at the same time, having just walked in here not anticipating going to be told that we have a field trip, I think that I’m allowed to ask what brought this on and why it has to be now.”

“Because I might die,” Amber said.

Melancholy, Pyrrha? Yes, I suppose you could call it that. “You’re not going to die; I won’t allow it.”

“You might not be able to prevent it,” Amber said.

“I’ve done it once,” Sunset pointed out.

“I know,” Amber said. “And I’m grateful. I’m so grateful, I … I can never repay—”

“You could start by not talking about dying,” Sunset suggested.

“If I die, then I … I know that I’m not a very good Maiden. Ozpin, my mother, they chose wrong, they chose so wrong.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself—”

“Pyrrha spoke such beautiful words to me tonight,” Amber said, “about hope. I can’t … I should be saying something like that to you; a Maiden should be speaking those words, isn’t that right? Isn’t that what they did in the story, isn’t that why there even are Maidens? But I can’t, I don’t have … I can’t speak, I can’t fight, I can’t inspire anybody—”

“You have inspired us to pledge ourselves to your protection,” Pyrrha pointed out. “That is not nothing.”

“No,” Amber agreed. “No, it is not nothing, but it is your kindness and your courage, not my charm.”

“Charm is…” Sunset trailed off a moment, because she had a better and a more important point to make. You could argue that all of the things that Amber was concerned about falling short in were irrelevant to the circumscribed Maidens of the modern day, that all that Amber needed to do was not die and let her powers fall into the hands of evil. That was … a melancholy thing, though, to use Pyrrha’s understatement of earlier, and it wasn’t a message that Sunset wished to give voice to, no matter how true it was.

Not to mention that it probably wouldn’t help Amber much to hear it.

“If you want to be as the Maidens of old, if you want to inspire, to lead, if you want to be as they were, then that is possible,” Sunset said.

“I’m not—”

“These qualities are not innate,” Sunset declared. “I thought … I’m a snob, I admit that. I own that, without the shame that is implied by talk of admission. I kowtow to Lady Nikos and genuflect in the direction of the blood of Old Mistral. But I will also say — and again, I say it without the shame that would be implied by saying ‘I admit’ — that there are many great leaders, some of them known to me, who have risen to become the focal points of a peoples’ hopes and dreams without a drop of noble blood in them.” How much would you be blushing to hear this, Twilight? “Public speaking, oratory, how to bear yourself as a leader, these things can be taught and have been taught for many years, and the rest? Qualities of character can be built by…” Sunset paused. She knew how Princess Celestia had taught Twilight Sparkle the qualities of character required for her ascension — by sending her to Ponyville to make friends and learn lessons — but she searched for the words to frame it and also to apply it to Amber’s situation. “By experience, which is a fine teacher of such things. Wherever you go next … perhaps you will be allowed to interact with the people living nearby; I’m sure that you won’t be so isolated that there is no one living within walking distance — where would you get your food from? — and you can … you can become a figure of hope to them, if you wish. These things are not beyond you.”

“No?” Amber asked. “What makes you think so?”

“Because a little bookworm who spent her early years haunting the libraries did what I could not,” Sunset said. “Because she learned, because she experienced, because she tried, supported by good friends. It’s … it might not be easy, but it isn’t complicated, if that makes sense.”

“Did what you could not?” Amber repeated. “What do you mean?”

“Um … let’s just stay on topic for now, shall we?” Sunset said. “I can tell you about myself later, if you wish, but for now, I’d like to focus on the fact that you want to take us to see the Relic of Choice, shall we?”

“Yes,” Amber agreed. “Yes, very well, I … do you really think that I could? Do you really think that I could be allowed?”

“I think that the bigger question is whether you want it badly enough,” Sunset said.

“What I want,” Amber murmured. “What I want is … it doesn’t matter what I want; what matters is what I am, and what I have, and what I … I want to show you where the Relic is just in case. So that you’ll know. So that you can … regardless of whether I live or die, I can’t protect the Relic, but you … maybe you can’t either, but the difference is that you’re brave enough to try. Please, let me do this, let me show you? I won’t open the inner sanctum and get the Relic out, but at least you’ll know where it is, and more importantly, how to reach it. Ozpin … it’s not somewhere you can just walk into. Please, let me show you.”

Sunset looked away from Amber, at Pyrrha and Ruby and Penny.

“You’ve all agreed to this?” she asked. “You all want this?”

“'Want' is a strong word,” Pyrrha murmured. “I do not relish the idea of Amber’s death, but, yes, I am ready.”

“And me,” Penny said.

“And me too,” Ruby said. “There’s good reason for it.”

“Yes, I suppose there is,” Sunset murmured. “Well, in that case, who am I to be the odd one out? Okay then. Amber, lead the way.” She paused. “Would you like my jacket against the cold? It’s gotten a little chilly out by now.”

Amber nodded. “Thank you.”

Amber put on Sunset’s jacket, where it clashed with the dress but not that much more than it had with Sunset’s cocktail dress, and then she led them out of the dorm room — did Team YRBN wonder what they were doing coming and going so late? — and out into the night air that was as chilly as Sunset had said.

So chilly that she half wished that she hadn’t given her jacket to Amber. Sunset shivered a little as she and the others followed Amber out into the night, walking across the courtyard, beneath the statue of the huntsmen and the huntress.

The huntress was too far back upon the rock, but the eyes of the huntsman above and the beowolf below seemed to follow them, staring at them as they walked, as if asking them where they were going at such an hour as this.

A crow cawed somewhere in the night as the five of them left the paved courtyards behind, passing beneath the glowing green lights of the Emerald Tower and moving out in the grass of Beacon’s expansive grounds. So late as it was, there was no one around, no one to observe them, no one to question them, no one to say or do anything at all. There was only them and the somewhat distant sounds of the Atlesian airships moving above, indifferent to their small shapes as they walked like ants across the face of the earth.

Amber led them far from the buildings, in the direction of Vale, roughly, but not towards the skydocks. She led them away from there, away from the paths and the trees, away from all of it, towards the drop down from the school to the city below, but to a very secluded part of the drop off, to where the river cut across the grounds and then dropped in a waterfall down before it flowed down towards the sea.

It was not much of a river, it had to be said — it could be called more of a stream, in fact — but at the edge, at the point at which it fell off the edge and down to the city below, it certainly sounded loud enough.

“It’s just down there,” Amber said. “Although it’s a little hard to see.”

“Let me,” Sunset said, holding out her hand and casting a ball of magelight, glowing green, illuminating the grass on which they stood and the water rushing inexorably by on its way down and out, illuminating everything as it floated out just beyond the cliffs and stayed there, hovering in the air.

Amber crouched down, and approached the edge gingerly, arms held out on either side of her, golden bangles gleaming green in the light of Sunset’s magic.

“It’s just down there,” she said. “There’s a ledge; you can see it now.”

They all clustered at the edge, more or less warily. Penny looked the least concerned about the drop, possibly she was built that resilient, or maybe she had that good balance. Sunset knew that if needs must, she could teleport back up, the way that she had done when she was horsing around with Cinder that one time.

Pyrrha and Ruby were the slightly more nervous, the latter more than the former, perhaps because Pyrrha had grown up on a mountain, but even Pyrrha was crouched down rather than at her full height.

Nevertheless, nervous or no, they gathered at the edge and looked down to where they could indeed see a little rocky ledge, about ten or twelve, maybe fifteen feet down from where they were, next to the waterfall, getting splashed by the water dropping down nearby.

“Well,” Pyrrha said. “We’ve dropped further, haven’t we?”

“Is there room for all of us down there?” Sunset asked.

“I think so,” Amber said. “There should be?”

“Okay then,” Sunset said. “I’ll go first, make sure it’s stable.”

That being said, she dropped down, jumping off the edge, falling the relatively short distance and landing on the rock below with a bit of a thump and a jolt to her aura. But the rock held; it didn’t give way under her weight.

Sunset tapped her foot on the rock as she felt the water splash her face. “Okay,” she called up. “Come down, one at a time.”

So, one at a time, they descended, first Pyrrha, then Amber herself, then Ruby, then Penny last of all, jumping or scrambling down the rock or, in Amber’s case, levitating herself down with the corona of fire blazing around her as she let the air currents lower her gently down.

“I take it that this drop isn’t the means of defending the Relic?” Sunset asked.

“No,” Amber said. “No, the Relic … the Relic is…” She held out one hand, holding it out towards the waterfall beside them, letting the water splash upon her arm and on the gold she wore upon her arm.

“Valour,” Amber whispered. “'A huntsman is sworn to valour. His heart knows only virtue. His blade defends the helpless. His word speaks only truth. His wrath undoes the wicked.'”

Sunset shivered, unable to avoid thinking about how much of that oath she had broken; the only part she’d managed to keep to was the bit at the end about wrath.

Nevertheless, Amber spoke the words, and at her word, the waterfall moved aside, like a curtain, revealing that the ledge of rock continued — and that, beneath the waterfall, there was a cave mouth gaping, a hole leading down into the darkness.

“Is that magic?” Pyrrha asked.

“A spell cast by … one of the old Maidens, I think, when the Relic was put here,” Amber said. “Or maybe by Ozpin.”

“I take it we couldn’t simply have walked through the water,” Sunset said.

Amber shook her head. “If you don’t speak the words, then you’ll get swept away, dropped down below,” she said. “Come on, it’s this way.”

Since she would have had to squeeze past Sunset and Ruby, she didn’t lead the way, but it was pretty obvious where they were meant to go: into the cave, and once they were inside the cave, down the steps that they found there, down into the darkness.

And yet it was not such complete darkness as it might have been, for bioluminescent green moss grew on the rocky walls of the tunnel that they descended, and set into the walls of stone were blue crystals that also gave off a faint light, and together, they combined to make a turquoise glow that was the equal of Sunset’s magelight, to the extent that she didn’t need her magic to light the way because the way ahead was lit up well enough already.

And so they went, the five of them, walking down the steps, their path lit up by moss, somewhat overdressed for cavern exploration — in the case of Sunset, Pyrrha, and Amber anyway — but going nonetheless, descending until they came to a point where the tunnel opened up into a cavern that was, if not vast — the ceiling was still fairly low, for one thing — was certainly more expansive than the tunnel, widening out to allow the five of them to stand side by side, and room for moving around if they had wished.

Set into the walls of the cavern were carved statues, half in relief, half sunk into the rock: statues of kings all wearing the same crown, a crown with a single sharp point descending down beneath the brows, sharp like a blade, as though the crown itself meant to skewer those who wore it between the eyes. Above, there were five points, sharp if not so blade-like, a little more jagged in shape, and in the centre of the crown, a stone of some sort, a jewel of a colour that could not be made out from a statue of grey stone.

All the same crown, on every kingly brow.

Sunset felt it looked a little sinister, to be honest. Was this the Relic? Was this why it was depicted here? She couldn’t think why else there would be all these kings otherwise. It was the one thing that they all had in common. Some bore swords, others did not; some wore armour, others did not; some had ermine robes, others did not. Clothes, faces, they all varied, but they all wore the crown.

In the centre of the cavern, there was another statue, a woman this time, and one who did not wear the crown: a young woman, with short hair — much like Amber’s own — and a kerchief tied around her neck.

There was something regal about her bearing, about the way that she held herself, the way that she looked down on them — and she was looking down on them, as all the ancient kings looked down on them.

It was as if the room itself resented them for trespassing.

And beyond the statue: a door, a great door as wide and as high as the cavern itself, a door that almost resembled a wall of ice or crystal, a door that was a fiery red, as red as any leaf in the Forever Fall, a red glowing brighter than any moss or crystal, casting its light down into the cavern.

The five of them stood there, coloured red by the glow of the door, standing, staring at the cavern before them, with its statues on either side and the door before them.

“That door,” Pyrrha murmured, “is that—?”

“Yes,” Professor Ozpin said from behind them. “That is where the Relic of Choice is stored. Only the Fall Maiden can open it.”

The five of them whirled around. Amber gasped with shock and shrank back behind Sunset.

“Professor!” Pyrrha said. “You—”

“Yes, Miss Nikos, I did,” Professor Ozpin said, his voice so calm it was impossible to tell if he was really calm or just pretending. “Amber … why?”

“I … I thought that they should see,” Amber replied, her voice trembling. “I thought that they should know. Just in case.”

“In case of what?” Professor Ozpin asked.

“In case … in case they needed to come here,” Amber said. “In case … in case … in case I—”

“Amber,” Professor Ozpin said, his voice sounding notably less calm now; it sounded like it might start trembling itself save that he had such control over it. “Amber that is … that is what they, what we are here to prevent. Please, do not … this is not necessary.”

“We did try and tell her, Professor,” Sunset said, “but at the same time … if we must come here, best that we know now and that Amber does not have to lead us here in the midst of a crisis.”

Professor Ozpin was silent for a moment. “Yes, I suppose there is some truth to that. Nevertheless, you should have consulted me first.”

“We’re sorry, Professor,” Sunset said.

“No harm done, really,” Professor Ozpin said lightly. “But I would appreciate it if you would all come with me now, and not return here without good cause.”

“Yes, Professor,” Sunset said. “Of course. And of course, we won’t come here again, hopefully ever.”

Nevertheless, as they followed Professor Ozpin out, Sunset looked back at the fiery red door behind them and thought of the crown — that sinister-looking crown — that lay behind it, the crown for which great powers contended and people like Amber paid the price.

And the statue, the statue Sunset presumed could only be of a Maiden, of the Maiden, watched them as they walked away.

Comments

[Kiue Jin]

Oh Amber...

On the one hand, I do feel sorry for her. I can see what is going to motivate her actions going forward and trauma is a terrible thing to have to deal with.

On the other... Girl, what's happened has happened and the only thing you can control in life is yourself. This is true of everyone; Ozpin and Salem can only truly control themselves and their own, direct actions. It's just that they cast a big enough shadow that others go along with what they say. As we've seen, their well made plans tend to go to shit if the people that are meant to follow them decide not too.

Hell, the reason she ended up being ambushed and badly hurt in the first place was because she decided to run away due to feeling like Ozpin had used her. Take some responsibility for yourself girl!

[Mastermind4892]

11596191
Indeed. So many doom flags rising...

[Stet709]

Yeah... I figured Ozpin would stop them before they went any further... Master of stealth indeed.
That crow cawing, that was Qrow, wasn't it? Qrow alerted Ozpin of where they were going.

[Lancerguy]

“I can see the sense in it,” Ruby said. “Not because I think that Amber’s going to die, because she isn’t, but … if the enemy, if Cinder, finds out where the Relic is, then if Amber is the only one who knows, then she’ll have to go there. But if she tells us now where to go, then Amber can stay safe, and we can go and confront Cinder or whoever on her behalf.”

Ok, this Ruby I can start to get behind, because it is a development, albeit a subtle and minor one. She still has the reversed web of responsibilities and a pretty black and white world view, but it's a shift to sympathy here that we have not seen before. Progress is being made.

Also, Sunnykins...well played, I like seeing the leadership development on you. Again, a lot of it was subtle, some less so, but all of it appreciated.

Bon Bon...I like where this is going. It's not just that she lacks courage, but she lacks self. This combination makes her far too easy a mark for others to use and mold. She doesn't know who she is or what she wants. She doesn't want to be a villain, yet cannot fully empathize with the heroes either (or anyone for that matter, everything she does is tainted by a foremost concern for her own survival and ability to carry on as she has.) Her character development has been one of the pleasant surprises to come from the rewrite

Pyrrha, uhm...do you need to see someone? I feel like these thoughts of self-doubt (and doubt in general) have been building for some time now and it's getting more and more concerning the more you keep it in.

[Voltaje]

You are practically rewriting the story, now how much the future is changed XD

[Scipio Smith]

11596327
Yes. As a general rule in this story if there is a crow or a raven specifically mentioned as cawing away in the background of a scene, it's Qrow or Raven.

[Lancerguy]

11596652
"In general"....so does that mean there is an example of a rouge Corvisquire having escaped to this dimension?

[Scipio Smith]

11596881
Not that I can think of at the moment, but I might want to just have some creepy crows for atmosphere or something, you never know.

[AdverseFlower95]

11596327
Man, I’m so used to Raven being the crow that it slipped my mind that it was Qrow. Nice catch.