SAPR

by Scipio Smith

And We Have a Reputation (New)

And We Have a Reputation

The Amity Colosseum hung in the sky above, but Yang was down on the ground below, with Amber and Dove.

It was kind of a pity that she wouldn't get to see Pyrrha and Sunset's two-on-two fight — contrary to what she had told Ren and Nora, she would have enjoyed watching it — but you couldn't on the one hand complain that you'd been left out of all the secret stuff and then complain again when you were asked to start pulling your weight.

And besides, while she was a little disappointed, Yang could stand to miss the fight more than Penny, or maybe even more than the other Atlesians.

Than the Atlesians, she supposed she ought to say; Penny was kind of pretty much a Beacon student already.

Just like Blake was pretty much already an Atlesian.

Yang wondered idly if they would be getting Penny next year, to replace Blake; that might not be so bad: Team SAPR certainly appeared to like her, and she seemed a nice enough person. But there was something … not something bad, not at all, but something … something about her. Yang couldn't explain it, but … it was like there was something going unsaid, something…

Something that other people know about her but I don't.

More secrets.

More secrets that Ruby was keeping from her.

Maybe. She hoped not.

Or at least I hope there's a good reason if she is.

Yang sighed and leaned forward just a little bit. The grounds were starting to fill up now, as day two of the tournament got under way, but it was not too crowded just yet — although it would be soon, the way more people kept spilling off the airships that seemed to dock at the platforms one after the other like they were on a conveyor belt — and so, she, along with Amber and Dove, had managed to get a table in the northeast corner of the fairground that was reserved as a seating, eating, and drinking area.

For Yang, the Mistraliano in a cardboard cup and the bacon bap with brown sauce wrapped in paper sitting on the table in front of her covered that off. She wouldn't normally have eaten again so early in the day, certainly nothing so big, but she was going to be burning off a lot of calories later on today, and it was going to be so crowded that lunch might not be possible.

Out of the corner of Yang's eye, she spotted a little girl wearing an immense blonde wig that was so big that it nearly swallowed up her whole head underneath it, not to mention the way it spilled down to the ground behind her. Yang was kind of amazed that she could see out of it, the way her eyes were hidden by the wig's bangs.

Or maybe she couldn't see and needed her mom to guide her around.

It took Yang a little while to realise, since the little girl wasn't really dressed like her at all, but after a few seconds, it occurred to her that those yellow cardboard tubes that the girl was wearing on her arms might be Ember Celica.

And I do have … quite a lot of hair.

Not that that was a bad thing, of course. Yang liked her hair, she liked the colour of it, she liked the shape of it too, the volume. She liked the glossy sheen it had as well, but she had to admit that that was getting a little harder to maintain because there was getting to be just so much hair that it was becoming a bit of a trial to wash in the mornings.

On the other hand, it does make me recognisable.

A smile crossed Yang's face. I've got a fan. I've got a fan!

At least somebody thinks I'm awesome.

Although — and no offence to the little girl in question — if somebody was going to recognise her qualities, she would rather that it be someone … closer.

Finally in the club, and I'm still upset.

No, I'm not upset, I'm broody. I've got things to be broody about.

"Yang," Amber's voice was an interruption to Yang's thoughts, an intrusion, albeit a gentle one like someone standing in the doorway tapping lightly on the door with their knuckles. "Yang, is everything alright?"

"I should probably be asking you that, shouldn't I?" Yang asked as she straightened up. She couldn't get too lost in her own thoughts; she had a job to do, after all, and it might lead to more jobs afterwards if this went well. "But, if you don't mind, I'd rather ask you something else."

Amber rested her hands and her forearms upon the plastic table. Her hands were close together but not quite touching. "Ask me what?"

"What's it like, being special?" Yang asked. "What's it like being so important that everyone is always looking at you, thinking about you, everything is always about you? What's it like—?"

"Being hunted?" Amber asked. "Attacked? Wounded?"

Yang was silent for a moment. She could see … the scars on Amber's face were always there, but makeup covered them so well that it was easy to not notice them sometimes, or to forget about them. But then there were other times when they seemed to stand out more on her face, like they were flaring up or something, times when you couldn't ignore them. Times like now.

"Well," she murmured, "I guess it's not all good."

"And besides," Amber went on, "I would have thought that you could have asked Pyrrha what it's like to be famous. She is very well known, isn't she?"

"Yeah," Yang agreed. "Yeah, she is, but that's not really what I'm talking about; I'm not interested in what it's like to be famous, a celebrity. Pyrrha … I like Pyrrha, but she's not…" Yang struggled to wrangle her thoughts into some form of coherent order.

"Fame," she said, "isn't the same as importance. All the stuff that makes Pyrrha famous, the trophies, the 'noble blood' that the Mistralians care about, none of it — with the exception of the fighting skill that got her the trophies, I guess, but anyway — none of it matters. If Pyrrha disappeared — not that I want her too, obviously — it wouldn't really … it wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't change the world. You … people don't know who you are the way that they know who Pyrrha is, but at the same time, you're so much more important than she is."

Amber shook her head. "No," she said. "I'm not important at all—"

"You're important to me," Dove said, sliding his hand over to take hers.

Amber smiled. "And Pyrrha is important to Jaune, in just the same way," she reminded him as she took his head, their fingers intertwining. "And in a different way, important to Sunset also, and Ruby, but that isn't really what Yang is talking about. What Yang means, I think…" She looked at Yang again. "In the way you mean, I'm not important. I carry something important, something valuable and desired, but the worth is in the thing I bear, not in myself."

"I … guess," Yang admitted. "And I guess, in one way, Pyrrha is important: she was chosen by Ozpin to do his work for him."

"Is that what this is about?" asked Amber. "Do you feel … do you wish that Ozpin had chosen you?"

"He did," Dove pointed out.

"Yeah, eventually," Yang retorted. "He picked Team Sapphire to go and fight his enemies, he picked Pyrrha to—" She stopped herself, realising that Amber probably didn't know about the whole 'transfer Amber's aura to Pyrrha, definitely killing at least one and maybe both of them' plan. It probably wouldn't be a great idea to tell her, either.

"'Picked Pyrrha'?" Amber repeated. "Picked Pyrrha for what?"

"Oh, nothing," Yang said in what she hoped was a dismissive tone. "It's just, you know, Pyrrha, Sunset, they get to do stuff. Ozpin trusts them, even more than he trusts Ruby or Jaune. Certainly a lot more than he trusts me."

"And you want him to?" Dove asked. "You want him to trust you, the way that he trusts Team Sapphire?"

"Well … yeah," Yang said, as though that should have been obvious. "I mean, in a way, he trusts you more than he trusts me."

Dove laughed. "I don't think so."

"You don't?"

Dove hesitated for a moment. "Amber needs to have somebody with her, at all times, someone from an approved list chosen by Ozpin. That list includes you now, but it doesn't include me. I'm not trusted to keep Amber safe, although even Jaune is — alone."

"And does that bother you?" Yang asked.

"No," Dove said, although Yang wasn't entirely sure that she believed him. "I mean … if I'm being perfectly honest, it's a little bit grating that Jaune is now considered to be stronger than I am, given … well, you know, what he was like when the year began, but at the same time, Jaune helped me realise that getting upset about it wasn't going to make me stronger or keep Amber safe. And Amber's safety is the most important thing, isn't it?"

"Yes," Yang agreed. "Yes, it is." She took a drink of her coffee before it got cold.

"I have to say," Dove went on, "I'm a little surprised that it bothers you, being left out."

Yang's eyebrows rose, disappearing into the recesses of her bangs. "Really?"

Dove shrugged. "On our first night at Beacon, you told me that you didn't want to settle down, and your dream was to travel across the four kingdoms," he reminded her. "Serving Ozpin doesn't seem compatible with that."

"I wouldn't be so sure; I think my uncle gets around," Yang said, before she realised what she'd said. "Not like that … well, maybe it's like that too, but anyway … the point is … my point is … why them and not me? I'm pretty much as strong as Pyrrha is, stronger than Jaune or Ruby, and I could punch Sunset's lights out if I could close the distance with her. I'm a good team leader, even Professor Goodwitch thinks so. I guess I don't like the implication that I'm not good enough. Not worthy enough."

"It is no great thing, to be found worthy," Amber murmured. She reached across the table with her free hand, sliding her slender fingers over the black fingerless glove that covered Yang's hand. The sunlight glinted off the golden bangles on Amber’s wrist. "Trust me when I say that it is no honour to be envious of." She smiled sheepishly, even as she looked down for a moment. "I am a … if I could have all of this time again, with Dove, to live simply, an ordinary life, unknown, no trouble to anyone, and all that I had to do was give up my burden? I would do it, in a heartbeat." She looked at Dove, and the smile that came upon her face banished the harshness of her scars. "Some things are more important than being important."

All very well for you to say, Yang thought, but nobody loves me either, so what does that leave me with? She didn't say that, though, because that wasn't Amber's fault and because it would have sounded kind of self-pitying too. Instead, she forced a smile and said, "Well, if simple is what you're looking for, then I'm sure Patch can oblige. Life's pretty simple there. I can't say that it's always peaceful in our house, but it is simple. Are you sure you're going to be okay, coming with us to lie low at our place for a while until Ozpin can find you something else?"

"I think it could be a good thing," Dove said, before Amber could speak. "Getting … away from it all." He put his other hand on top of hers. "Getting away from all of this … somewhere quiet and isolated." He smiled, although for a moment, it seemed as though his smile wasn't quite gonna reach his eyes, but it got there in the end. "Honestly, with what I've heard, it sounds a lot like home. And even more like Amber's home."

"Yes," Amber said softly. "Yes, I suppose it does. The cottage in the woods where my mother and I used to live, before…"

"I'd call it a cabin rather than a cottage," Yang said, "although … can cabins have more than one floor? Because we have two. We've only got one spare bedroom, but don't worry, I can share with Ruby, Amber can take my room, and Dove can have the spare room." She grinned. "Unless you'd like to sleep together."

Dove blushed. Amber's complexion made it hard to say if she was doing the same, but her whole body did go stiff and rigid as though she'd been shocked by some lightning dust. "I—" she began to splutter, before she hesitated, looking at Dove. "I … I mean … we could. If … if you wished."

Yang hadn't expected the conversation to take this turn; she'd just wanted to embarrass them a little bit and lighten the mood of the moment. Now, she found herself very quiet, not even breathing too loud in case she disturbed them.

Dove's eyes were fixed on Amber, blue points in an otherwise red face. But there was no embarrassment in his voice, only a certain uncertain trembling as he said, "You … you mean it?"

"I do," Amber said, sounding a little breathless, looking into Dove's eyes. For a moment, Yang was so put in mind of the answer to a different question that she wondered why Amber had replied like that, but of course, it did make sense.

Amber withdrew her hand from Yang's, brushing her fingertips across the tabletop as her hand made its way towards Dove, rising up his chest, stopping about halfway. Amber leaned a little towards him. "I … I don't know … I mean I've never," Amber murmured. "But I should like to. Would … wouldn't you? Wouldn't you like to … love me?"

"I would," Dove whispered, putting his arm around her shoulders. "I do. But … I mean, we're not—"

"You have my promise," Amber said, "and I yours. Is that not enough?"

Dove was silent for a moment. "It is," he said at last. "It will be."

They kissed, a very deep and, from what Yang could tell, judging by the way that their bodies pressed against one another, the way that their lips worked, the way that they seemed to be taking breaths as they kissed so that they could go on kissing; all in all, it seemed fair enough to say they were kissing a very passionate kiss.

Their bodies not just pressed against one another but starting to move.

As she watched, unable to take her eyes away, Yang felt a mixture of happiness for them, but at the same time, a sort of squirming discomfort in her stomach, a sort of … she didn't want to call it jealousy or envy or anything like that, but, well, as much as she didn't want to call it that, it kind of was.

After all, nobody loved her. Nobody wanted her.

That's not their problem though, is it?

No, no it isn't. They're happy, they've found happiness with one another; there's nothing wrong with that. They shouldn't have to pretend that they haven't just to spare my feelings.

Although, as she watched, as she couldn't help but watch, Yang began to wonder if they might not be getting a little too into it. When she'd suggested it, she certainly hadn't intended for them to start right now!

"Okay!" Yang said loudly, clapping her hands together. It was sufficient to get their attention; they jerked away from one another, both gasping for air a little, Dove's face still red.

"Well, that's certainly settled," Yang said cheerfully. "So, when we get home, the two of you can … well, you can take the spare room, can't you?"

"Your father won't mind?" Dove asked.

Yang shrugged. "Amber isn't his kid, so I doubt he'll care. And Uncle Qrow … Uncle Qrow can sleep on the couch, I guess. How does that sound?"

"It sounds … fine," Amber said softly. "It sounds … almost wonderful. If only…"

Yang leaned forward. "'If only' what?"

"Hey, you two!" Lyra called out as she and Bon Bon made their way towards the table. "We've been looking everywhere for you!" Lyra reached the table, Bon Bon just a step behind. It was only at that point that Lyra appeared to notice Yang's presence. "Yang? What are you doing here?"

Yang glanced up at Lyra. "Oh, you know," she said, "just hanging out."

"Fair enough, I guess," Lyra muttered. She took the last remaining chair, leaving Bon Bon to grab another chair from a different table. "So, what's up?"

Neither Amber nor Dove spoke. Dove leaned a little closer to Amber, drawing him towards her once again, while Amber's eyes darted towards Bon Bon, but neither of them spoke.

"Um," Dove mumbled. "Well, uh … you see—"

"We're leaving," Amber blurted out, the words leaping out of her mouth like animals running away from a forest fire.

Bon Bon frowned. "You mean … you're leaving sooner than you thought you would?"

Amber nodded. "As soon as the tournament is over."

"As soon … you mean you're leaving in two days?" Lyra demanded. "The day after tomorrow, you're going to be gone?"

"Yes," Dove said softly. "So it would seem."

"But that's … that's hardly any time at all!" Lyra exclaimed. "We didn't know that you were going that early; how are we supposed to throw a proper goodbye?"

"That's hardly the most important thing, is it?" Dove asked.

"It is!" Lyra exclaimed. "Or at least, it might be." She looked from Dove to Amber and then back again. "I mean … why?"

"Because of that girl who died last night,” Yang said. “The Atlas student.”

"The girl whose teammates were really upset, right," Lyra murmured. "But … what does that have to do with Amber? Why does that suddenly make Vale so much more unsafe that he has to whisk you away like this?"

"Ozpin, Professor Ozpin, is … protective," Dove said. "That's all."

Lyra didn't reply to that. Instead, she paused for a second before saying, "So … where are you going? Does this mean you have a place to stay?"

Amber looked at Bon Bon for a second, although Bon Bon hadn't said anything and didn't really seem like she was going to. She was staring at her hands with wide eyes, and she'd been like that ever since Amber had announced that she'd be leaving.

"We—" Amber began.

Yang cleared her throat. They probably weren't supposed to tell anyone about taking Amber and Dove to Patch. They were supposed to lie low there, after all.

"Nowhere permanent, yet," Dove said.

"But you're both leaving," Lyra said quietly.

"Yes," Dove declared. "I can't … I won't leave Amber's side again. Never again."

"'Never again,'" Lyra repeated. "But … are we ever going to see you again?" She glared at Bon Bon. "And are you going to say something at some point?"

"I…" Bon Bon stood up, pushing her chair back as she did so. "I have to go. I'll be back." She turned away and began to stride away without another word of explanation.

---

It no doubt seemed strange to those who knew — Sunburst, for one, and others in Atlas too — that Tempest Shadow wasn’t up in the Amity Coliseum watching her two teammates battle for their glory and the glory of Atlas in the very first match of the second day of the tournament.

No doubt, they found it, if not strange, then at least very telling: a sign of her unsociable attitude, another indicator of the way that she didn’t really fit in, that she wasn’t a very good Atlesian, even if she was a pretty good huntress.

Well, let them think that; she’d be away from here soon enough, and free from all of them.

Soon, she would present the Relic of Choice to Salem, and then, she would be elevated so high. No more putting up with Trixie’s nonsense; no more having to listen to Starlight telling her to knock it off, to play nice, to go along to get along; no more having to pretend to have the slightest shred of respect for Sunburst.

No more having to bear any of them. Trixie, Starlight, Sunburst, Twilight, Rainbow Dash, Neon Katt, Blake Belladonna, they were all utterly unbearable. How did they manage to be so awful?

If they weren’t too loud, they were too cheerful, and if they weren’t too cheerful, they were too noble; one way or another, they were all nauseating. Tempest didn’t know how they could stand one another, or themselves.

Soon, she would be away from all of that. Free from them. Free from Cinder too, who — Tempest had come to realise — was every bit as bad as the Great and Powerful Trixie. They might not seem very similar, but when you scratched the surface, they were actually very much alike: each believing that they were following a star when, in truth, they were only guided by their respective delusions, both convinced that they were much more powerful, much more important than they actually were.

Cinder might actually be worse than Trixie, because for all her faults, at least Trixie lives in the present day. She might roll her rrrrrs too much at times and refer to herself in the third person, but at least she doesn’t go around acting like she just stepped out of some musty old book or as though, by sheer effort of will, she can transform the world to fit her fantasies.

You had to live in the world that you … lived in. There was no other choice. You took the world as it was: cold, cruel, and unforgiving, a place of hatred, suspicion, and mistrust.

A place where they would always see her as something less than human, so she would make them less than her.

Gods, she hated this place. She hated Atlas, she hated her fellow students, she hated the way that people’s eyes lingered a little too long upon her arm, she hated the way that the children who were, even now, starting to fill up the fairgrounds pointed at it and asked why she looked like a robot where she could hear, she hated the way that people obviously wanted to ask what it was like but didn’t actually have the courage to ask.

She hated the way that they all acted like they were such good, close, loyal friends, as though they wouldn’t drop any of their number the moment they took an injury like hers … just the way that her friends had abandoned her.

She’d like to rip Rainbow Dash’s arm out of its socket and see how many fine friends she had left after that.

Not many, Tempest was sure.

It was a cruel world, and Tempest hated all the people who pretended that it wasn’t.

But she would be gone soon. Out of their lives, as they were out of hers, she would be with Doctor Watts, who understood, who was sympathetic, who was appreciative, who alone in all of Remnant truly cared for her.

With Doctor Watts … and Salem.

When she brought Salem the Relic of Choice, she would be rewarded beyond her wildest dreams. For Sonata, the reward of victory would be freedom, but for Tempest, it would be … trust. A place at Salem’s right hand, the place that would soon be vacated by Cinder as she left this living world behind and went to … wherever the spirits of the dead went in the Mistraliad, perhaps.

Tempest would take her place, a more competent and reliable servant than Cinder had ever been, to take the lead in the assault on Haven, or Atlas, or even Shade perhaps, wherever Salem commanded that the next blow should fall.

She would take the Maiden powers of Spring or Winter or Summer, and she would open the next vault and take the next relic without the aid of Sonata Dusk or Amber. And she would do it much more quickly than Cinder had managed — and without spending so much time sitting around in a house, either.

Tempest wondered idly if she should recruit some minions. No, no, unlike Cinder, she had no need of such; she could do it all on her own. Anyone else would just slow her down — or stab her in the back.

Well … perhaps it might be nice to have someone around. Someone unthreatening. Someone weak, someone who wasn’t able to contribute anything but who could … amuse her upon occasion, someone she could talk to from time to time to stop herself from going mad in the confines of her own head.

Someone who could serve her as Emerald served Cinder, as a walking, talking sounding board.

Not Lightning Dust; Tempest wouldn’t trust her once this mission was concluded. She would chafe under Tempest’s leadership the way that she had chafed under Cinder’s; she was another one whose ego outstripped her ability by some distance.

Tempest would … suggest to Salem that she should be sent away on a diversionary assignment; if Tempest was going to Haven, then Lightning would go to Atlas or Shade, to mislead Ozpin and the others as to their true intentions — and hopefully get herself killed in a way that wouldn’t get any blood on Tempest’s hands.

She was not such a monster that she enjoyed the prospect of murdering her own allies, after all.

Tempest was stood at the edge of the fairgrounds, where they trailed away towards the empty, quiet parts of the grounds. Unfortunately, she couldn’t just take herself off to some secluded spot and wait out the day until all the crowds of tourists had gone; she had to be available in case something happened.

Something like whatever was causing Bon Bon to make her way over towards where Tempest lurked.

Tempest looked up, to where the Amity Coliseum hung in the skies over Beacon, with skybuses climbing up through the skies towards it, wings flapping lazily. Soon, it would all start, with Trixie and Starlight going up against Pyrrha Nikos and Sunset Shimmer.

Soon, Trixie’s dream would be dead, or else, Ozpin would be revealed to have chosen very poorly.

Don’t take it too personally, Trixie; all dreams die in the end.

It’s just that the absurd ones die first, that’s all.

Tempest lowered her gaze as Bon Bon drew near, although she affected to barely notice the other girl, presenting her side to her, not even turning her head.

“We have a problem,” Bon Bon said.

“Only one?” Tempest asked insouciantly.

Bon Bon’s mouth twisted as she seemed put off by Tempest’s response. “Amber’s being moved.”

Now, Tempest looked around; in fact, her head snapped around because if Bon Bon was correct, then that was bad news. This had the potential to be very, very bad news indeed. Amber was everything to their plan; without her … without her, they were reliant upon Cinder once again, and that was not a prospect that filled Tempest with joy.

It would almost be more than she could take.

Worse than that, if Amber was moved away … there was always the possibility that she might change her mind, especially if she felt safe and danger seemed far off.

“Why?” Tempest demanded. “When?”

“I don’t know why; Amber wouldn’t say,” Bon Bon said. “Or at least, she couldn’t say with Yang breathing down her neck. They’re spooked about something.” She paused. “Do you think it could have something to do with—?”

“The dead student?” Tempest finished for her. “Possibly, but what? A murder has been committed, but what of that, what makes it more dangerous for Amber to be at Beacon now than it was yesterday? It doesn’t make sense. She couldn’t tell you why, but she could tell you that she was being moved?”

Bon Bon nodded. “She told me — and Lyra too — that she and Dove are going away as soon as the tournament is over. She would have told me where she was going, but Yang cut her off.”

Tempest breathed a sigh of relief. “After the tournament, you say?”

“Straight after,” Bon Bon insisted.

Tempest waved that off with her prosthetic arm. “It doesn’t matter. Our business will be concluded with the tournament.”

“It will?”

“Obviously, because I’ll be leaving myself once the tournament ends,” Tempest reminded her. “If we were not done then, I would be shipped back to Atlas.” She paused for a moment. “Did she seem worried to you at all? About her impending departure?”

Bon Bon hesitated for a second. “I … I would say so, yes.”

“Then go back and reassure her,” Tempest said. “Tell her…” She paused while she searched for a discreet form of words that wouldn’t arouse suspicion in Amber’s minder, Yang — Yang; Tempest hadn’t known that she was involved in this. “Tell her that things can change very swiftly and that’s why it’s important to always be prepared.” She smirked. “And that goes for you as well.”

Bon Bon swallowed. “Is it … today?”

“Tomorrow,” Tempest said. It could have been done today, but Cinder — foolish as she was — wanted to let the tournament end first, and Tempest wasn’t ready to move against her yet, not until she had the Relic in hand.

“Tell her,” she instructed Bon Bon. “Tell her and bear it in mind.”

“I will,” Bon Bon said. She sighed and looked around. “I will,” she repeated, more quietly this time, before she turned around and hastened off.

Tempest remained where she was, poised on the edge of the fairgrounds, poised on the edge of greatness, alone, watching all those whom she held in contempt begin to fill up the space just as they filled the skies with their annoying chatter.

Tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow, I will get what I deserve.

---

Amber felt ill.

She wasn’t sure if it was one thing or many.

She hadn’t wanted to betray her friends. She didn’t want to harm Sunset or Pyrrha or anyone else. She didn’t want them to die in her defence, to stand between her and harm until there were none of them left, until they had all perished, one by one. Even though she had shown them the vault, it wasn’t because she wanted them to go down into the dark to fight in her stead and possibly not come out again.

That wasn’t what she wanted at all.

She hadn’t wanted to betray her friends, she didn’t want to betray them, but … but it didn’t seem that there was any other way. She didn’t want to betray anyone, but equally, she didn’t want to be hunted all her life either. It was like she had said to Yang: if she could have all her time back to lead a simple life, and all she had to do was give up her powers, then she would take that chance, without needing to think about it.

She couldn’t give up her power, but she could give up the Relic of Choice, and that was just as good when it came to freeing her from all of this, lifting the threat of Salem’s malice off her shoulders.

Salem’s threat, but not Cinder’s.

Cinder would not leave her alone just because Amber had given up the Relic of Choice. Cinder had … stolen half of her magic. It wasn’t something that they talked about, it wasn’t something that she had told Dove, it wasn’t something that Sunset or Pyrrha or even Ozpin had ever brought up. Nobody ever called her half a maiden, nobody ever made mention of the fact that she only had some of the magic left — they were all very kind in that regard, to spare her feelings so — but Amber could feel it, within herself.

There was … an emptiness inside of her. A hollow that had once been full. It was like … it was like being permanently tired, her heart pounding in her chest as though she’d just completed some strenuous exercise. It was like always feeling as though she had overdone it, and that if she kept on pushing herself, then she would falter and collapse.

Amber wondered if Cinder felt the same as she did, if she struggled with the magic she had stolen, if she felt tired even without doing anything? Or perhaps the thief had it easier than the person she had stolen from.

Cinder’s threat had not been lifted by the bargain that Amber had made with Bon Bon. Cinder would not be satisfied with the Relic. Cinder would want all of the magic; she would want to reunite both halves and become the undisputed Fall Maiden.

If not, then Bon Bon and her friends wouldn’t have been planning to kill her. But they were; they were going to kill her because they wouldn’t need her anymore once they had the Relic; they didn’t need the Fall Maiden’s magic, and they didn’t need a would-be Fall Maiden, so they were going to throw her away.

In that way, Amber thought, Salem and Ozpin were very similar: they used people for their own purposes, consumed them, ruined them, and cast them aside for someone else, and the whole process started again.

I suppose that means that Cinder and I are similar too.

It was almost enough to make Amber feel sorry for her.

Not quite enough, because Cinder had attacked her, scarred her face, stolen her magic, put her in a coma, and was the reason why Amber had not felt quite right since waking up, but it was almost enough.

Cinder chose this; I didn’t.

Cinder had chosen this, and she would choose to attack Amber if she had the chance, regardless of what agreements Amber had made or promises she had had from Bon Bon.

Amber felt that they could have killed Cinder already, but of course, she knew why they wouldn’t; Bon Bon … she hated Bon Bon. She could barely stand the sight of her now. Lyra was a dear, a true friend to Dove, always so pleasant, so cheerful, so earnest and genuine with her feelings, and with such a lovely voice as well, but Bon Bon? She was just another Ozpin, hiding evil behind a kindly smile.

Bon Bon didn’t really care about Amber, and because of that, she was perfectly willing to let Cinder wander around so that Amber would remember that she was there and why she needed to be a good girl and hand over the Relic of Choice.

Amber glanced at Dove. She knew … no, she suspected, because they hadn’t talked about it, but she suspected that he saw going to Patch as a way to get out of the bargain that she had made: go to Patch, hide where she couldn’t be found, let them whistle for their Relic.

Don’t betray anyone. She could understand why he thought that way, why he wanted it. It was … certainly tempting. Go to Patch, stay with Yang and Ruby and their father, love Dove. Do nothing. Stay hidden. Wait for Ozpin to find somewhere else to bundle her off to, and then wait there, staying hidden, shut up in some secluded place, hoping that Dove didn’t start to chafe at the confinement and blame her for it, hope that his love would be strong enough to stand against the strain of isolation.

Not that tempting after all.

It was all very well to say now that all they needed was one another, that they would sing like two birds in a cage, and in the walls of Ozpin’s prison would outlast scores of valiant warriors, brave Sunsets, and noble Pyrrhas cut down in Ozpin’s active service. But was it true? Would it really be true? Could even true love stand up to such? She hoped so, but she did not want to condemn Dove to a life that he would come to hate, nor suffer him to hate her for the condemning.

And besides, even if Dove understood all of that — and he probably did not, because Amber’s understanding was only complete enough to perceive the darkness that lay before them — then he did not understand the danger that they faced. He understood that she had been attacked, and now he understood why, but not what power drove on the attack; he didn’t understand that it was so much more than Cinder, and so much worse. He didn’t understand that it was an enemy who would outlast them all, who could never be beaten. An enemy who would never stop until … until she had all four relics in her possession.

The other relics are better guarded, and the other Maidens too. How will she get the Relics of Creation, Destruction, or Knowledge? Opzin already keeps the other Maidens as confined and hidden as he wished to keep me, and so he keeps the Relics safe.

He can afford to lose this one.

She did not regret her choice, even as she felt ill in her stomach.

This … this was … she hoped that she could get the Relic away and into the hands of Salem’s followers without bloodshed. If she could do that, if she could make it so that nobody had to die, then wasn’t that a good thing? Wasn’t it better to lose a crown than to lose the lives of Sunset, Pyrrha, all these people here at Beacon, Ruby, Jaune, Ciel, Blake, Penny — Yang too! What was a Relic that they should die for, or a Fall Maiden, for that matter?

They might call it betrayal, but if by a single act of treachery she averted a bloody battle and saved not only her own life but the lives of many others too … was that not a noble thing, by some lights at least?

She did not want anyone to die for her, nor did she want to die for the world. Therefore, she chose this path. It was not the most upright path, and she would not pretend that she didn’t understand why it made Dove uncomfortable, but it was the best path available to her.

Amber truly believed that.

This move to Patch … as tempting as it might be — for Dove at least — to go along with it and hope to get away from their enemies, for Amber, who had a better idea of how implacable those enemies were … she knew why Bon Bon had left in such a hurry, but she didn’t know what Bon Bon planned to do about it. If she assumed that she was attempting to break the terms of her agreement and escape, then … then Cinder might be loosed on her in truth like a tiger. If she assumed, correctly, that this was an unfortunate circumstance caused by Ozpin’s caution, then … what would she do? She might still decide it wasn’t worth abiding with Amber.

Or she might accelerate her plans.

It would have been so much easier if they could have talked about this openly. Amber didn’t mind Yang, she seemed a nice enough person, and that had been a very good idea of hers, that she and Dove should consummate their affections soon, but all the same, Amber rather wished that she would leave, so that she and Bon Bon could get on with things.

So that she could assure Bon Bon that she wasn’t trying to get out of anything, that she could be trusted if only Bon Bon would bear with her.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into her lately,” Lyra said.

“Who?” Yang asked.

“Bon Bon!” Lyra declared. “She’s gotten downright squirrely lately, always sending me away or wandering off or slinking around corridors talking to weirdos.”

“'Weirdos'?” Yang asked, a touch of amusement in her voice.

“Well, Atlas students, which is the same thing a lot of the time, but don’t tell Rainbow Dash I said that,” Lyra said. “The point is, she’s been acting more strangely lately.”

“She has been through a lot,” Dove pointed out.

“I know that,” Lyra said. “We’ve all been through a lot, and anyway, this is after that. I’m not talking about how she was after Sky died, I could understand that even if I didn’t like it, this is more … it’s more recent. I don’t know. I love her, but there are times I feel like I don’t understand her.”

“I’m sure you’ll understand, eventually,” Amber said. “And when you do, it will all make sense.”

“Hmm, maybe,” Lyra murmured. “I hope you’re right.” She looked up. “Speak of the beowolf, where have you been?”

“Around,” Bon Bon said as she sat back down again.

Lyra’s eyebrows rose. “'Around'?” she asked, her tone inviting Bon Bon to continue.

Bon Bon nodded. “Around,” she repeated.

Lyra scowled. “You can’t just get up out of nowhere, stomp off without saying a word, then come back and refuse to say—”

“Lyra,” Bon Bon said, cutting her off. “I had to go because … because I was upset, about Dove leaving so soon, and Amber.” She looked at them, more at Amber than at Dove, despite what she’d said. “I’ll be sorry to lose you,” she said. “I’ll be sorry to say goodbye to both of you.”

Liar, Amber thought. You just want what I can give you.

“I get that, I’m sorry too,” Lyra said. “There was no call to be rude about it.”

“I was surprised, and I needed to go for a walk to think about it,” Bon Bon said. “I’ve grown very attached to Amber in the little while we’ve been together.”

There was a part of Amber that wanted to roast her alive. The fact that someone like this had been so close to Dove, had made him think that she was his friend, had comforted him in her absence … it made her skin crawl.

She hated the fact that she needed Bon Bon’s help.

“And … what did you think, when you were walking?” Amber asked quietly.

Bon Bon hesitated for a moment. “I think … it’s the way things are, sometimes,” she said. She looked Amber right in the eyes, unblinking. “Things can change so suddenly, when we least expect. That’s why we always have to be prepared for when they do.”

Meaning that they are moving ahead, and swiftly, Amber thought. That’s what she’s telling me. They will try and take the relic before I leave.

Good. I can be free then, and Dove and I can go where we will, with no one to trouble us.

The sooner it is done, the better.

Will it be tonight?

“Because we weren’t able to go last night, and because I’d still like to have a little fun before I leave, Dove was going to take me to the carnival tonight.”

“Oh,” Bon Bon said. “That sounds nice. I hope you have fun there, and stay safe.”

Not tonight then. Tomorrow.

And tonight…

Amber wasn’t just going to the carnival for the fun of it. She had wanted to go, she had wanted to enjoy herself, the music, the dancing, the colours and sounds, all of it, but now … she was afraid of Cinder, she was afraid of the fire, afraid of the anger, afraid of the cruel look on her face as she had stood over Amber and started to steal her magic away. There was a part of Amber — the same part of her that wanted to roast Bon Bon — that would have welcomed the chance to cross paths with Cinder again: to wound her as Amber had been wounded, to scar her face, to pay back tenfold every injury that Cinder had inflicted upon Amber. But that part of her was outweighed, outnumbered, and outvoted by the part of her that was afraid that the result of the second contest might turn out even worse for her than the first.

No, Amber wouldn’t have dared to venture out with Cinder abroad except … except that Bon Bon needed her.

Salem needed her.

And because they needed her, they would have to see that she was well protected.

Even if that meant killing Cinder and giving her the security she craved.

---

Overall, Emerald thought that she had done a pretty good job with her disguise.

The fact that she was in Beacon and hadn’t yet been killed or arrested seemed to suggest that she had a right to feel that way.

Of course, this wouldn’t really have been possible outside of the tournament. Under normal circumstances, under ordinary circumstances, Emerald wouldn’t have dreamt of coming back here, and she would have told Cinder that it was a fool’s hope to think that she could.

She would have told her regretfully, but firmly nonetheless. If it had been only students here, then she would have been spotted at once, and for that reason would have refused to go.

But it was not only students here today, and Emerald had gotten off the skyliner with the other tourists and walked right down the road and now she stood in the courtyard, with that old black statue of the huntsman and huntress looking down on her as though they were the only two people in the world — or at Beacon right now — who knew who she was.

It was the tourism that allowed that; quite apart from the crowds themselves, which were easy to hide in, the sheer number of people around the school — around certain parts of the school, anyway — meant that the facial recognition on the Atlesian androids, which they used to scan and match faces against the registered Beacon IDs, had been disabled; otherwise, they would have been going off incessantly, with potentially messy consequences. For that reason, the risk of being identified by a robot had been lifted from Emerald’s shoulders.

Which meant that the only risk that she ran was running into someone who recognised her as Emerald Sustrai, Cinder’s accomplice — and that was what the disguise was for.

The circus surrounding the Vytal Festival tournament was a big help — a great help, it was a great help in that regard; she had to keep remembering to choose the right words in her head, or else, she would forget to use the right ones in public. Ladies said great, not big; at least, they did some of the time.

The circus surrounding the Vytal Festival tournament had been a great help to Emerald in disguising herself to sneak back — to waltz back, rather; there was not a lot of sneaking involved in stepping off a skyliner onto the docking pad — onto campus. She could hardly believe that you could buy accessories, or even full costumes, to dress up as these losers.

Wait, that wasn’t phrased in a particularly ladylike manner either, let her try something else … Emerald could scarcely believe that all manner of accessories and outfits pertaining to these … pathetic oafs — these errant nuisances — were available to purchase from all good retailers.

But available they were, as Emerald had quickly found out as she had hunted through Vale looking for the means of disguising herself. You could buy wigs that supposedly would make you look like Pyrrha Nikos, Yang Xiao Long, Blake Belladonna, Rainbow Dash, even Sunset Shimmer; now who would want to dress like Sunset Shimmer, of all people?

Well … as it turned out, Emerald did. She had stolen an official licensed Sunset Shimmer wig from a costume shop — shoplifting was very straightforward when there were no other customers around; it was just a matter of making the clerk think that you had handed over the lien, then he would ring you up, hand you a receipt, and you could walk out the door and be out of sight before he realised that actually, no, you hadn’t paid him anything; with a bit of luck, you wouldn’t even have to break into a run — a leather jacket and a pair of biker boots from a thrift store, and a pair of jeans and a purple top from a low end department store. It wasn’t a perfect costume — it didn’t have Sunset’s symbol anywhere on it — but it did look like the sort of thing that someone who didn’t have a ton of money to spend might come up with if they wanted to dress up like Sunset Shimmer.

Although why they would was a mystery to Emerald.

Although, to be perfectly honest, Emerald did not hate Sunset. She even … she felt as though she understood the other girl now, better than she had done; it couldn’t be easy being the voice of wisdom to a Mistralian who was over-obsessed with that one bloodthirsty book and had a head full of ludicrous notions in consequence. It couldn’t be easy watching someone you cared about who seemed determined to destroy themselves and who would do it no matter what you said to try and persuade them not to.

No, that wasn’t easy at all, and Sunset had Emerald’s sympathy in that regard.

Perhaps that was why she had chosen to dress up as Sunset, rather than Pyrrha or Blake, because Sunset was the one closest to her own temperament in that regard; at least, Emerald had thought she was. That was certainly the impression that she had gotten in their one real conversation in preparation for Cinder’s duel with Pyrrha.

She hadn’t liked Sunset up until that point — she still didn’t like Sunset very much, and they were still enemies — but at the same time, there had been a connection there between them, two people condemned to watch because they lacked the power to change.

Although it seemed that, since then, Sunset had changed something very, very big, if Cinder was right. She had brought Amber back from the … not back from the dead, but back from the almost dead, which was still pretty … still rather impressive.

Emerald couldn’t imagine how she’d done it.

What else might she be capable of?

Let’s hope I don’t find out.

The other reason, the more important reason, why Emerald was dressed as Sunset rather than anyone else was that it was, all told, a pretty low key outfit. Certainly, it was not as flamboyant as Pyrrha’s corset and armour, as idiosyncratic as Blake’s tailcoat and tights, as attention-grabbing as Yang’s outfit. It was low key, at least to an extent, although that was offset in part by her hair.

Still, bright colours aside, even the wig was helpful because it changed the shape of Emerald’s face to anyone looking at her, and who had only seen her with her hair tied up in twin tails before, the way the wig framed her face would cause it to look a little different.

And just to help, she was wearing green coloured contact lenses. Technically, they were ‘Pyrrha Nikos contact lenses’ intended to make your eyes look that very bright and beguiling emerald shade, as opposed to Sunset’s eyes which had a bit more turquoise in them. But it was a change from Emerald’s own red eyes and decreased the likelihood that she would be recognised.

Not that she intended to take any chances; she would keep well out of sight of anyone who might recognise her.

That was why she was lurking kind of— lurking ever so slightly, rather — as she watched Amber.

Emerald was standing half-hidden behind a holographic advertisement for Pumpkin Pete’s; Pyrrha’s face kept flickering in front of her, occasionally making her lose focus. If Amber had been trying to get away from her, then it might have been enough for Emerald to lose track of her, but as it was, Amber wasn’t going anywhere. She was sitting at a table with Yang Xiao Long, a boy and a girl whom Emerald couldn’t assign names to … and Sweetie Drops, or Bon Bon, whichever you wanted to call her.

Emerald appeared to be looking at her scroll; she had it open in front of her and had her head bowed down as though she were looking at it, but her eyes were truly fixed on Amber, and Bon Bon.

Bon Bon who was supposed to be on their side. And yet who had said nothing of Amber being awake.

Bon Bon was sitting there, with her, and yet, Cinder had had to find out from the TV news.

Emerald was starting to feel herself getting irate about it until she remembered that Bon Bon hadn’t known — didn’t know — about the Fall Maiden. She hadn’t been part of the operation to obtain Amber’s power, and she hadn’t been told about it afterwards either. She didn’t need to know any of that.

Perhaps she needed to know now?

Emerald considered it, but that consideration foundered upon the risks of trying to approach her without being identified by Yang or someone else; plus, there was the fact that Bon Bon had not exactly been a reliable asset for them lately.

Or ever.

No, Emerald would not approach her. She would not take the risk. After all, she was only here to observe Amber — she didn’t even have her weapons with her, not that they would have done her much good — and nothing more. And she did not need Bon Bon’s help for that.

So she would watch, and be discreet, and report to Cinder anything of interest.

---

"Here we are then," Swift Foot said, settling down into an armchair. "Day two."

"Yes, well, one day does tend to follow another," Terri-Belle muttered as she, too, took a seat in front of the television. "At least today, there are only five matches of interest."

Swift Foot looked at her out of the corners of her eyes. "You could at least pretend to be enthusiastic."

"I am very enthusiastic," Terri-Belle replied. "I'm also very busy."

"With what?" Swift Foot asked. "No huntsmen came to see you yesterday looking for missions."

"All that means is that the missions are piling up on my desk, and there will be a great flood of huntsmen looking to take them soon enough, or at least, I hope there will, or there will be a great many people in danger or disappointed throughout the land of Mistral." She paused for a moment. "And besides that, do you think that my titles as Captain of the Imperial Guard and Warden of the White Tower are merely for show? Do you imagine that I do nothing all day?"

"I know that you have duties," Swift Foot replied, slightly defensively, like a hedgehog curling up for protection against the teeth of Terri-Belle's offence, "but I didn't think that any of them would be occupying you right now; I mean … it is a holiday throughout the whole city."

"And yet, life goes on," Terri-Belle murmured.

A silence descended between the two sisters for a moment, companionable enough but a silence nonetheless.

"How … how are the huntsmen taking it?" asked Swift Foot. "Having you for their employer and no job board?"

"I am not their employer," Terri-Belle corrected her. "I am merely the facilitator of their employment, a sort of talking, breathing job board."

"Very well," Swift Foot conceded. "How are they taking that?"

"With good cheer in some quarters and much grumbling in others," Terri-Belle muttered. "Professor Lionheart came to seem me the day before yesterday, to tell me that several eminent people had come to him with their concerns that I was hoarding power, that I might be unduly influencing huntsmen on what jobs to take, that I might be choosing which missions went to the top of the pile."

Swift Foot blinked. "What did you tell Lionheart?"

"Professor Lionheart," Terri-Belle said gently. "And I told him to go back and tell them that if they really thought I was behaving improperly, they could make those accusations publicly; if not, then let them keep their opinions as well as their names to themselves."

Swift Foot crossed her legs, resting her left foot upon her right knee. "I'm not sure I believed that really happened."

Terri-Belle frowned. "You think that I am making it up to … what? Aggrandise myself by appearing defiant?"

"No, I believe that Lionheart—"

"Professor Lionheart."

"He's not my teacher."

"Yet," Terri-Belle said.

"Then when I am at Haven, I will call him Professor," Swift Foot said. "Until then … I believe that he came and talked to you; I'm not sure I believe that anyone talked to him. Certainly not eminent people. Why would they? He's a faunus—"

"Let's not have any of that sort of talk," Terri-Belle said reproachfully.

"You know what I mean," Swift Foot insisted. "In this city … you've told me yourself how people look down on him, because he's a faunus, because he's useless—"

"Professor Lionheart is not useless," Terri-Belle declared. "He cares for his students and their wellbeing, he is a first rate counsellor — and a good counsellor besides. He gave me much good advice when I was a student there. That Haven has been unlucky under his leadership is his bad luck also. Besides, why would he lie to me about it?"

"I … I don't know," Swift Foot admitted. "Maybe he doesn't like what you've decided but wanted to attribute it to other people instead of himself. Has anyone had the nerve to come to you with their own problems?"

"Some," Terri-Belle said, "mostly huntsmen who find coming up to see me to be an unwanted imposition compared to a job board. I am sorry for the inconvenience, but I would be more sorry to lose more huntsmen because someone is passing out mission information to a huntsman killer." She shook her head. "In any case, no problems that are not surmountable, thank goodness, or I would certainly not be sitting here. But I am here, and I hope that Haven will do well today."

"Haven or Mistral?" asked Swift Foot.

"Both," Terri-Belle said. "Pyrrha Nikos, yes, but of the Haven students? Arslan Altan; Councillor Ward's son, Cicero the Younger; two children of Titus Andronicus; a Vasilias of Argus; if we cannot make some victories out of such a company, we deserve to close down Haven and withdraw from contention out of shame."

"We could have said the same yesterday, about the likes of Jason and Meleager," Swift Foot pointed out.

"True," Terri-Belle admitted, "but the fact remains that there are some good raw materials remaining to us; hopefully, they can make victories out of it." She paused. "Did you watch these Atlas students yesterday?"

Swift Foot nodded. "It was while you were gone."

"What are they like?"

"I thought they were a lot of fun," Swift Foot said. "Their leader, Trixie, is vain and showy, but in a good way." She chuckled. "The Great and Powerful Trixie!"

Terri-Belle gazed at her younger sister with slightly narrow eyes.

"What?" Swift Foot asked. "That's what she calls herself."

"Really?" Terri-Belle muttered. "Standards must be going down in Atlas. Robyn Hill never engaged in any such nonsense."

"She's playing for the crowd," Swift Foot replied. "Or at least I think she is. And besides being entertaining, she and her team were very good yesterday. And yes, they were only up against a Shade team, but—"

"Honestly, I don't think we have any right to look down on Shade Academy, considering our record," Terri-Belle said.

"No," Swift Foot admitted. "Which isn't—"

"Bad luck," Terri-Belle insisted. "Not an indictment."

"If you say so," Swift Foot said. "But, in any case, whoever their opponents were, Team Tsunami did well yesterday. I honestly think you'll be glad you watched this."

---

"I wish Pyrrha was fighting someone else," Diana grumbled gently from where she and her sister lay on the floor like two cats staring up at the television in front of them.

Selene looked at her. "Why?"

"Because Trixie was funny," Diana explained. Selene had gone for a nap and so missed that fight, but Diana had stuck around for it and been rewarded. "I don't want her to get knocked out."

Selene pouted. "Traitor!"

"I still want Pyrrha to win!" Diana squawked. "And she will. I just wish she was beating someone else, that's all. I don't want my favourites to fight each other."

"What about Arslan?" Selene asked.

"I can have three favourites," Diana said. "Like … my favourite fruits are apples, grapes, and satsumas."

"They're not real favourites; there are too many of them."

"Are not!"

"Are too!"

"Are not, there's only three!"

"Well, I'm still rooting for Pyrrha," Selene said primly. "Because I know that she's way better than your boring old Trixie. Go Pyrrha! Go Pyrrha! GO PYRRHA!"

"Settle down in there!" Mom called from the kitchen.

---

Leaf held the Snowburger bag in her mouth as she fished her scroll out of the pocket of her green coat and used it to open the door of her apartment.

The door slid open, revealing Veil sprawled out sideways on the sofa, holding her scroll up in front of her face with one hand.

She scrambled upright as she heard the door slide open, looking at Leaf. "Did you get everything?"

Leaf made a wordless noise out of her mouth and shook her head a little to emphasise the rustling brown paper bag in her mouth. She stepped in the doorway and heard the door slide shut behind her.

She put her keys into her pocket so that she could take the bag out of her mouth. "Yes," she said, "I got everything." She put the coffees down first, two big cups in a cardboard cupholder. "One black, one white with extra sugar." Then she put the paper bag down. "One sausage and egg snowmuffin, one bacon and egg snowmuffin, two hash browns, and a bag of mini pancakes."

"You are amazing," Veil said, opening the bag up — it rustled some more — and lifting out the bag of mini pancakes, which didn't look much like pancakes at all as far as Leaf could see — more like nugget-shaped globs of batter — as well as the plastic tub of maple syrup.

"You know, I really don't like giving that place my money," Leaf complained as she shrugged off her coat and threw it onto the back of the sofa. "On account of, you know, the fact that they kidnapped me and made me a slave."

"That was the SDC, not Snowburger," Veil countered, without looking up.

Leaf flopped down onto the settee. "Snowburger is part of the SDC. Or at least, it's owned by the Schnees."

"Yeah, but they're like … a subsidiary or whatever," Veil replied. "It's all different managers, different people; I mean, it's not like they had you enslaved flipping burgers in a fast food place."

Leaf exhaled audibly out of her mouth. "I don't like giving that family my money."

"Hard not to in this city," Veil said. "Who do you think we're paying to watch TV?"

"SDC owns the cable company?" Leaf demanded, her eyes boggling.

"No, SDC owns the power company; it's why we have electricity," Veil corrected. She paused. "Although they might own the cable company as well; I'm not sure. But, anyway, you're the one who didn't want to go to Patty's."

"The nearest Patty's is a whole floor up," Leaf moaned, "and—"

"You can't walk that far because you smoke too much," Veil finished for her.

Leaf glared at her. "No, I was going to say that it would all be cold by the time I got it back here. Besides, so much of the stuff from Patty's has a weird taste, I don't like it. I'd go to Burger Bar, but that's even further away."

"We do live in a bit of a fast food desert," Veil admitted. "I think it's because when you live in an apartment as nice as this, you're expected to be the kind of people who do at least some of their own cooking."

Leaf blinked. "So, you're saying that if we had a crappier apartment, we'd have more dinner choices?"

"I'm saying one of us should probably learn to cook," said Veil.

"Not it!" Leaf called at once. "I don't need to eat much anyway." But she got out her snowmuffin regardless, because she needed to eat something, and the morning was when she was generally hungriest, because she hadn't had a single cigarette yet. "So, what were you looking at when I came in?"

"Oh, nothing, just looking at the news," Veil said. "You could tell it was a quiet day because a lot of it was about yesterday's tournament, all the stuff we already watched. They were trying to talk up Trixie and Starlight too."

"Yeah, they might be good, but Sunset's better," Leaf declared. "Sunset and that Pyrrha girl, they've got this."

"I hope you're wrong about that," Veil said. "I know that you're friends with her and all, but Atlas didn't do as well as everyone thought yesterday — that was in the news as well—"

"They got four wins, out of eight matches," Leaf said. "Isn't that good enough?"

"Not for Atlas," Veil said. "Not for some people around here, anyway. I'd like to see us get some more wins in today, even if it does mean your friend has to get in the bin."

Leaf huffed. "Well, if I'd known that," she said, "I wouldn't have brought you breakfast."

---

Saphron popped the bananas into the blender and pushed the button. The blender stirred to life at once, whirring loudly as the individual bananas disappeared into a yellow blur, splattering in parts upon the plastic jug, spinning round and round in an ever less coherent-looking, ever less recognisable paste.

Adrian, sitting in his high chair, covered his ears with both hands. He liked what came out of the blender but wasn’t so thrilled about the sound that it made to get there.

Saphron wasn’t in love with it either — it would have been great if they could have come up with a quiet version — but it was something that she had learned to put up with over time.

And besides, it never lasted too long; why, even as she thought that, the blender came to a stop, the whirring, screeching sound dying.

Saphron turned the device off before she lifted the plastic jug off the white stand with the motor in it and lifted up the lid to reveal the yellow mush that was, colour aside, completely unrecognisable as banana.

And yet, despite not being recognisable, the puree still looked pretty good.

“You know, instead of freezing it, I might have some of this myself with a yoghurt or something,” she declared.

Terra walked in from the living room. Her glasses had begun to slip down her nose; she pushed them back up again.

“You want to have the same breakfast … as our baby?” she asked.

“No,” Saphron said as she started to spoon the banana puree out of the jug and into a bowl for Adrian; there were cartoon snowmen in hats and scarves having a party on the bottom of the bowl, but they swiftly began to disappear beneath the yellow puree that Saphron doled out onto their smiling faces. “Adrian is going to eat this on its own. I’m going to have it as an accompaniment to something else.” She looked at Adrian over her shoulder. “You don’t mind sharing with Mommy, do you?”

Adrian nodded his head.

“He doesn’t know what he means,” Saphron said.

Adrian opened his mouth and pointed into it.

“He certainly knows what he wants,” Terra replied, a touch of amusement entering her voice. “I think that you should put what’s left of the banana in the fridge — where we have those strawberries going soft if you want to puree something for us to go with a yoghurt.”

“I suppose they do need eating before they go off,” Saphron conceded as she reached into a cupboard for a plastic tub to hold the rest of the banana puree. “Once I’ve got the puree out, can you wash this while I feed Adrian? Or you can feed Adrian, either way. The point is, if we work together, then we can get everything done and our own breakfast ready without missing any of the next match.” To Adrian, she added, “We don’t want to miss any of Auntie Pyrrha’s next match, do we? Do we?”

Adrian shook his head vigorously.

“I remember when you were certain that the black haired girl was his girlfriend,” Terra said.

“And I remember when you recognised that the red-haired girl was a famous Mistralian celebrity and didn’t say anything,” Saphron remarked pointedly as she finished spooning the last of the puree between Adrian’s bowl and the plastic tub.

Terra chuckled softly. “If I had told you, would you have expected Jaune to chase after a celebrity who was out of his league?”

Saphron hesitated for a moment. “Would it make me a horrible big sister if I said ‘yes’?”

“Perhaps a little bit of one, yeah,” Terra said. “I’ll wash up and get started on the strawberries. You feed Adrian.”

“Will do,” Saphron said, planting a kiss on Terra’s cheek as her wife walked around the unit, and around Adrian’s high chair, to stand beside Saphron, facing the sink. She grabbed Adrian’s bowl and a little blue plastic spoon and walked towards Adrian with a big smile on her face. “Here comes the airship, Adrian!” she said, spooning some of the puree onto the spoon. “Open wide?”

Adrian gurgled in happy anticipation as he opened his mouth very wide indeed.

“Wheeeeeee!” Saphron said as she steered the spoon by a slightly winding course into his mouth. Adrian’s mouth closed around the spoon, and there was scarcely a trace of banana puree left of it when Saphron pulled it out from between his lips.

“There you go!” Saphron cried, spooning out some more puree. Behind her, she could hear the sound of running water gushing from the tap.

“My dad sent me a text,” Terra said. “He told me that he knows that Pyrrha is your brother’s girlfriend, but he’s never met any of your family—”

“We should probably do something about that,” Saphron murmured. It was unfortunate, but she’d chosen to get married to Terra before introducing her to her family, for fear that … well, for fear that they would treat Terra the way that they had treated Pyrrha, to be perfectly honest, and try to break the two of them up. Also because she’d been a little afraid that if she brought Terra home without a wedding ring on her finger, then she might lose her nerve at the last minute and ask Terra to pretend they were just roommates or something. Anyway, the point was that although Terra’s parents had been at their wedding, her family had not, and the two halves of the Cotta-Arcs had never met at any subsequent point, either.

“The ball is in your court on that one,” Terra replied calmly, her voice raised only to be heard over the sound of the running water. “Anyway, the point is, as much as Pyrrha is dating your brother, he’s still rooting for the Atlesians.”

“He had to tell you that?” Saphron asked, putting the spoon back into Adrian’s mouth, which gleefully closed around it.

“He had to tell somebody,” Terra said. “And he couldn’t tell Mom.”

“Of course not,” Saphron said, smiling. Terra’s father was an Atlesian, a CCT technician — now retired — who had come to Argus to work on the tower; her mother, on the other hand, was a Mistralian, Argus born and bred, and proud of it. “I take it that’s why he texted you instead of calling.”

“Mm-hmm,” Terra agreed. “He’s setting himself up for so much disappointment, of course.”

“You’re not worried, then?” Saphron asked.

“Are you?”

“Those Atlesian kids were pretty good yesterday.”

“Arslan Altan is pretty good, at the least,” Terra said. “Cicero Ward is pretty good. Jason, Meleager, Oceana the Mermaid Knight, Vespa the Wasp, they’re all pretty good, and do you know what they all have in common? Getting their butts kicked by Pyrrha Nikos. And it will be the same way here too, take my word for it.”

“Because a princess of the old blood will conquer her enemies?” Saphron asked. “You are your mom’s daughter, aren’t you?”

“It’s a family tradition,” Terra acknowledged. “But it’s also just a fact. I love my dad, but there’s no way he’s going to get what he wants out of this fight.”

---

“Here you go, love,” Mrs. Macready said, setting a bowl of porridge down on the breakfast table in front of Plum Pole. “Best eat up before Miss Shimmer’s match with Miss Lulamoon and Miss Glimmer starts.”

“Thank you,” Plum said, smiling. Mrs. Macready had already laced the porridge with lashings of honey, which she — picking up a spoon with a wooden handle — began to stir in. She looked up the table to where Doctor Diggory sat, eating from his own bowl of porridge. “Doctor?”

Doctor Diggory glanced up, “Yes, Miss Pole?”

“The Vytal festival, the tournament,” Plum said, “it’s to celebrate peace, isn’t it?”

“Exactly,” Doctor Diggory said. “It is now eighty years since the Great War — and no, I am not quite so old that I remember it,” he added, chuckling a little, “— and every two years, a great celebration in one of the four kingdoms to rejoice at the fact that peace between the kingdoms has prevailed ever since.”

“But they celebrate it by making people fight one another,” Plum said, “even friends like Sunset and Trixie and Starlight. It doesn’t seem very peaceful.”

“You’ve hit the nail on the head, dearie,” Mrs. Macready declared. “I’ve never understood it myself.”

“It is…” Doctor Diggory paused for a moment. “It is because peace is maintained not only through goodwill and mutual understanding — although that is a part of it, and that is celebrated too as part of the broader festival; that’s why Miss Lulamoon and Miss Glimmer, although they are from Atlas, were here in Vale to help defend us when we needed it, and Miss Doo, as well, a Haven student — but because of the bravery of young huntsmen and huntresses like Miss Shimmer, Miss Lulamoon, and Miss Glimmer. The tournament is a celebration of them, a chance for those who didn’t require to have their village saved by them to know who they are, and to see and to appreciate their skill.”

“I … see,” Plum replied. “But still, I think it must be quite hard fighting against your friend.”

“In a real fight, I’m sure that it would be,” Doctor Diggory replied. “Thankfully, I’ve never had the experience myself. But this is a tournament, it is only … play fighting, you might say. Nobody gets hurt, and nothing is won or lost. Nothing is at stake but pride and bragging rights. They may be friends, and they have fought together in the face of real danger, but today… today I imagine will be quite a fun diversion for all of them.

“Or at least, we must certainly hope it will; it would be a terrible shame for them to fall out over something so trivial, having been through something so momentous together.”

---

“You bet against Pyrrha?” Juturna said.

“Yes, I did,” Lausus replied.

“You bet against Pyrrha?”

“I think I just said that.”

“You bet against Pyrrha?”

“Are you having trouble hearing what I’m saying?” asked Lausus, tilting his head a little to one side. “Are you going deaf?”

“You bet against Pyrrha?!” Juturna yelled.

Lausus recoiled. “Okay, just because your hearing is going is no need to act as though mine is.”

“My hearing is fine,” Juturna said, “I just can’t believe it. You bet against Pyrrha?”

Camilla stepped out into the corridor in which Juturna and Lausus stood. “What’s going on?”

“Lausus bet against Pyrrha,” Juturna said.

Camilla’s eyebrows rose. “You bet against Pyrrha Nikos?”

“Why does everyone keep repeating that?” asked Lausus.

“Because it’s stupid,” Juturna declared. “Listen, I don’t like Pyrrha very much—”

“Juturna,” Camilla murmured reproachfully.

“What?” Juturna demanded, turning around to face her. “I’m not going to pretend that I like her when I don’t. If she were to get taken down a peg or two, that would be fine by me.” If she were to die, that would be fine by me as well, but you know. “But I’m not going to bet against her. I’ve put money on her to win this whole thing.”

She regretted saying that as soon as the words had passed her lips. Camilla frowned and folded her arms.

“With what money?” she asked.

Juturna licked her lips. “With my … credit card, that my brother gave to me and which I can…” — she shuffled in place — “spend however I like.”

“Within reason,” Camilla reminded her. “You know that my lord would not approve of gambling.”

“He might not disapprove,” Juturna suggested. “Especially if he never finds out about it.”

“Juturna—”

“Don’t say it like that; you weren’t supposed to find out either,” Juturna insisted.

“Why would you, though?” asked Lausus.

“Oh, you’re asking me that as though you haven’t bet against her?” Juturna said, rounding on him.

“Yeah, I bet on the Atlas pair because you can get twenty-eight-to-one odds on it,” Lausus replied. “If this comes in, I’ll be rich! I’ll be able to buy back our house from that damned upstart caravaneer who’s been squatting in it. I can get my father his pride back, I can … put my mother’s bones back in the family crypt where they belong.”

Camilla’s arms fell down by her sides as she walked forwards. “Lausus … how much did you bet on this improbable victory.”

“Only my lien,” Lausus said at once. “Not my father’s.”

“That is not what I asked,” Camilla pointed out softly.

Lausus chewed on his lip a little. “Most of what I had saved away.”

“Lausus,” Camilla sighed.

Juturna reached up, putting her hand on his arm, just below the silver honour band. One finger just brushed against the cold metal. “You know … you know that it…” She hesitated. “It’s not likely to happen. In fact, it probably won’t. You know that, right?”

Lausus was silent for a moment. Then it was his turn to sigh, raggedly, his body bending as far as his cuirass would allow. “I am proud to be a Rutulian warrior, and to serve Turnus, and to fight alongside you, Camilla. The friendship that this family has offered to mine, even after our disgrace, is a gift that I cannot repay. But that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t shame me, to be reduced to the status of a retainer, to see the even greater shame stooping my father’s shoulders, to be cast out of our house, out of society, to have our name turned to mud. If there is a chance to change that, to regain all that we lost, shouldn’t I take it? Am I not obligated to take it?”

“And when the bet fails, you will have even less than you did before,” Camilla murmured. She walked towards them both. “I … do not begrudge you your desires, but … I fear this was not wise.”

“Probably not,” Lausus admitted. “But then I’ve never been a particularly wise fellow. And, frankly, as much as I wouldn’t dream of taking any other work than this, I’ll never make enough to restore my family’s status on the salary and bonuses that my lord pays me.”

“What’s this?” Turnus asked, as he walked up the corridor, approaching the group from behind Lausus. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Juturna said. “Nothing at all, we were just—”

“Lausus has made a rather foolish wager,” Camilla said softly.

Turnus stopped mid-stride. “Is that so?” he said softly.

Lausus clasped his hands together behind him. “Yes, my lord. I’ve bet … fifty thousand lien on Trixie Lulamoon and Starlight Glimmer to win this match that is about to start.”

Turnus was silent. He stared at Lausus, his eyes unblinking, unmoving. “'Fifty thousand lien,'” he repeated quietly. “That … what was that as a proportion of what you had available?”

“Most of it,” Lausus admitted. “There’s some in stocks and the like, but they haven’t been doing very well recently, either.”

“I’ve told you, you should use my broker instead of investing in every ‘next big thing’ that turns out to be anything but,” Turnus muttered. He paused for a moment. “It is all your own money, you didn’t borrow from anyone else?”

“No, my lord,” Lausus said. “I wouldn’t do that. I’m not so much a fool.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Turnus said. “Assuming that you don’t suddenly come into a fortune very shortly, I’ll give you twenty-five thousand lien by the end of the day. That should enable you to conceal the fact that you’re broke from your father and anyone else. You can pay me back, little by little, over the next few years.”

Lausus gasped. “My lord—”

“We wouldn’t want you to have to gnaw on the crust of humility now, would we?” Turnus asked. “Where would we be without your peacock’s feathers brightening up the place.”

Lausus let out a little laugh. “You’re a real pal, my lord … Turnus.”

Turnus allowed the use of his name, this time anyway. “I hope so,” he replied. “I try to be.” He clapped his hands together. “Now, if that was the only thing that you were discussing—”

“It was, my lord,” Camilla said, for which Juturna was very grateful; she wasn’t sure if Turnus would have been as nice to her about this as he’d just been to Lausus.

“Then we should probably head in,” Turnus said, “and witness Lausus lose his bet.”

Lausus sighed. “Very probably, my lord.”

---

"So, Dad," River said, as she sat down on the couch, "is there anything else different between today's matches and yesterdays, or is it just that there are only two fighters instead of four, so we've seen the last of Jaune already?"

"There are four terrain types today," replied Gold Arc, sitting down on the sofa next to her. "Not just two like there were yesterday."

Kendal was sitting on the arm of the couch already, so she was able to look over River's head down at their father. "So … the number of fighters goes down, but the number of different environments goes up?"

"That's the way it is," Gold said.

"But with only two-on-two," Kendal said, "do they all get used?"

"No," Gold said, "but I guess that's not the point; the point is that all the huntsmen who are on the field get more choice, more chance to play to their strengths — or to their opponents' weaknesses. At least, that's my best guess as to why things are the way they are."

"They could have done that and still kept four huntsmen on each team," Sky grumbled, from where she sat at the foot of the settee. She had to turn her head and crane it to look up at everyone.

"It's like Ozpin said—" Gold began.

"Yeah, Dad, I know what the old headmaster said," Sky replied before he could finish. "But that doesn't change the fact that I would have liked to have seen more of Jaune. Wouldn't we all like to have seen more of Jaune?"

"Not according to the messages on this livechat," Aoko murmured. She was crouched beneath Kendal, at the side of the sofa, and just like yesterday, she had her laptop open on her lap.

"I meant all of us Aoko; nobody cares what the random people on your computer think," Sky declared. "And can't you put that away and watch on the new TV with the rest of us?"

"This way, I can watch and work," Aoko said. "Miss Rockshaw has assigned me to join a new tiger team brainstorming ideas for innovative gear of use for a small huntress."

Kendal frowned. "Why a small huntress? Why not a big huntress, like Pyrrha or Jaune?"

"I don't know," Aoko said. "Maybe the big ones don't need the help."

Kendal rolled her eyes.

"I understand what you mean, Sky," Rouge said, sweeping out of the kitchen, the doors flapping shut behind her. She had a tray of steaming hot pastries in her arms, and she didn't miss a beat in stepping over Sky's leg. "It would have been nice to get some more of Jaune, considering how much he's improved."

"You know, I'm not sure that 'improved' is the right word," Kendal said.

Sky looked up at her. "Why not? He was awful, now he's better. He's improved."

"Except that he wasn't awful, was he?" Kendal replied. "Jaune was … I don't think you can say that he was bad when he hadn't been shown or taught to do anything and didn't know what he was supposed to be doing. It would be like saying that I'm bad at … bookbinding, or illustrating comics. I'm not bad at either of them, I don't do them—"

"But if you did try and do them, you would probably be bad at them," Rouge said, "just like… well, just like Jaune was bad when he tried to become a huntsman, by his own account. And then, thanks to Pyrrha, he got better. He improved, like Sky said."

"I suppose," Kendal conceded. "But most people are going to be bad at something when they try it for the first time, and the reason why he'd never tried it before is because of us! If we had—"

"If Jaune had known what he was doing when he went to Beacon, then maybe he wouldn't have met Pyrrha," River pointed out. "These things have a way of working out for the best."

Kendal snorted. "Sometimes they do, Mrs. Happily Married with a Kid on the Way. Other times … oh, it doesn't matter. Let's just watch Pyrrha's match. And pass me one of those pains au chocolat; they smell really good."

---

"So, here we are," Vice Principal Luna declared. "Canterlot's prodigal daughter versus…" She paused for a moment. "How does one describe Trixie?"

"Not the favourite daughter, nor the brightest star," murmured Principal Celestia, "and yet, nevertheless, a bright star in the sky. Call her … Canterlot's Surprise, for Trixie does have a way of surprising people. Even me, upon occasion."

Luna chuckled. "If she wins this match, she will shock most of Remnant, I think."

"Having taught both Sunset and Trixie," Celestia said, "I, of course, do not have a favourite. That would be very inappropriate."

"Oh, of course, sister," Luna said, a smile playing upon her features.

"I don't," Celestia insisted.

"And I agreed with you."

"With your words, you agreed," Celestia declared. "Not with your tone or that smirking expression on your face."

"This is my resting face," Luna protested.

"Then exercise it," Celestia told her. "I don't like the look of it when it's resting."

"I'm sorry," Luna said. "I didn't mean to bother you."

But the smirk remained upon her face regardless.

---

Up in Councillor Cadance’s box, Kali Belladonna sighed.

Four of Blake’s friends pitted against one another, who am I supposed to root for?

If I knew who Blake was rooting for, I could root for them. But I don’t.

It is what it is, I suppose, but nevertheless … I wish the tournament had thrown up a different result when selecting the matches.

---

Lady Nikos winced a little at the pain in her leg as she sat down in her private box for the second day of the games.

The arena beneath her was full up, the common stands heaving with people, their noise buzzing upwards to reach her.

It would have been like being in the Colosseum in Mistral, but the games in Mistral were not quite so … commercialised.

Not that there was not, unfortunately, a commercial element, but in Mistral, it was at least not common for people of all ages to dress up as their favourite warriors to watch the tournament. That sort of behaviour was reserved for FanFight Expo and other such events which it was Pyrrha’s duty to attend for the sake of her public image, but in the arena itself, a more rarefied atmosphere prevailed.

It was to be regretted that such was not the case here. Although it was to be rejoiced at that Lady Nikos was set so high up above the stands that she could scarcely see the offending outfits.

Nevertheless, she was aware that they were there, and it was somewhat irritating. This was a festival, and games held at a festival were — or ought to be — sacred. This was not only the grandest tournament in Remnant, but a tournament in celebration of peace, or — as they would have put it in Mistral of old — a celebration in honour of the goddess Concord. There ought to be — deserved to be — a degree of solemnity as part of that.

But then, even in Mistral, there was less solemnity around the tournaments than there had been once — it was a strange thing, but in some respects, the games that most preserved the sacred character of the arena were the impromptu tournaments held in celebration of someone’s wedding, by virtue of their link to the solemn nuptials — what chance that there would be any solemnity at all in Vale, a kingdom that could scarcely be called solemn in any way?

And yet, here she was, despite all her complaints.

Despite all her complaints, she would not have missed this for the world. Not for the restoration of her ancestral throne would she have stayed away.

Lady Nikos gripped the handle of her walking stick tightly.

Come, Pyrrha, she thought. Show the world what Mistral’s glory was in the days of old.

Show them what it means to be our Evenstar.

---

“Does it bother you that Blake isn’t here?” Penny asked.

Ruby looked at her. There was an empty seat next to Ruby in the competitors’ stands where she and Penny sat — Ruby had reserved it for Jaune, who would be joining them shortly — but all the other seats around them were taken up with Mistralians: Arslan, Bolin Hori whom Sunset had defeated, the members of Team JAMM who had been beaten by Team RSPT yesterday, the team whom Ruby thought were the ones that Rainbow and Ciel would be fighting later on, and the ones that Yang and Nora were going to be facing later on as well. It wasn’t quite fair to say that every Haven student competing in the tournament was crowded in here with them — there was no sign of Sun or Neptune, although she could see Sage and Scarlet a little way away — but it was certainly most of them.

And judging by the way in which the ordinary seats behind them were taken up with Haven students in black uniforms — so that you could tell immediately that they were Haven students and thus from Mistral — it certainly seemed as though they’d made an effort to present a united front.

Ruby wondered if possibly Lycus’ accusation at breakfast had had anything to do with that; Team JAMM had led the way in getting behind Pyrrha then; maybe they’d decided to show their support tangibly.

Although given that Ruby hadn’t seen the death reported anywhere, she wasn’t sure how many people would really get it.

Still, it did feel different than it had done yesterday, when they’d been watching with all their friends.

It felt a little weird, sitting here surrounded by all these Haven students, like an island of Beacon-ness, an island of Valishness, an island like Patch in the middle of a sea of strangers.

But did it bother her? And did it bother her specifically that Blake wasn’t here?

“No,” Ruby said. “No, I don’t think it bothers me; why should it?”

“Because she’s supporting Trixie and Starlight,” Penny explained. “Not Sunset and Pyrrha.”

“More fool her,” Arslan muttered.

Ruby ignored her and focussed upon Penny. “I mean, it’s her choice. It’s not like she killed someone.”

Penny blinked. “You … don’t care at all?”

“No,” Ruby said. She smiled. “Just like no one cares that you’re supporting Pyrrha and Sunset — except for Pyrrha and Sunset; I’m sure that they appreciate it a lot.”

“Your norderlust friend can support who she wants—” Arslan began.

“Our what?” Ruby asked.

“'Norderlust,'” Arslan repeated. “It’s a word we have in Mistral for people who are entranced by Atlas. They think it’s so cool and modern, so they end up dressing Atlesian, going to live in Atlas to find out how cool and modern people live. And sometimes, they end up going to Atlas Academy, because it’s—”

“'Cool and modern'?” Ruby guessed.

“You’re catching on quick,” Arslan told her. “And we call it 'norderlust.' Where we don’t just call it something much ruder. I mean, at least your friend doesn’t have more money than sense, so she’s got that going for her, but other than that—”

“Blake doesn’t think Atlas is cool or modern,” Ruby pointed out. “She thinks they’re righteous.”

“That might be even worse,” Arslan muttered. “Anyway, my point is, she’s in for some disappointment.” She grinned. “All of Atlas is in for some disappointment.”

---

“Thanks for joining me up here,” Maud said, in that reserved, soft-spoken tone that she had. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Sunburst said enthusiastically as he sat down beside her. “We wouldn’t dream of leaving you out, right, guys?”

“No, of course not,” Rainbow declared, as she took the seat next to Maud on the other side. “What, did you think that we were going to sit down in the competitors’ section and leave you sitting up here all by yourself?”

“We wouldn’t do that,” Sunburst agreed. “Not to an honorary member of Team Tsunami.”

Rainbow made a kind of choking sound that made Blake wonder for a moment if she was alright. “An honourary— what are you talking about? Maud was on my team for a whole year; she doesn’t need to be an honourary member of Team Tsunami.”

“But I don’t mind,” Maud said, without sounding particularly pleased about it.

“Well … if you don’t mind, then I guess it’s okay,” Rainbow muttered, squirming in her seat and causing some popcorn to spill out of her bucket.

Blake smiled ever so briefly out of one corner of her mouth, so briefly that there was no chance at all of Rainbow catching sight of it.

“No need to be jealous, Rainbow, darling,” Rarity said. “There is plenty of room in Maud’s heart for you and Trixie, I’m sure.”

“I’m like a dolomite,” Maud declared.

A moment of silence followed.

“Uh,” Applejack said, “Maud, for the benefit of those of us who ain’t geologists—”

“Dolomite is a very porous kind of rock,” Twilight said. “So … Maud can absorb a lot of love?”

Maud nodded. “And like a rock, I have … difficulty in release.”

“Don’t say that, Maud!” Pinkie cried. “You know you shouldn’t talk about yourself that way.”

“Pinkie’s right; there’s no need to put yourself down,” Rainbow said.

Especially when the rest of the world will be so quick to do it for you, Blake thought.

“If you want to be an honourary member of Team Tsunami—” Sunburst began.

Rainbow made a quiet wordless growling noise. Nobody took any notice.

“You have to believe in yourself,” Sunburst went on. “Like Trixie! She always believes in herself, and it helps all of us to believe in ourselves too.”

---

As Starlight and Trixie waited in the tunnel below, they could both hear the sounds from the crowd above them, from all the people waiting in the stands, filling the floating Amity Coliseum. The ones who were cheering already, the ones who were singing, the ones who were just chattering away while they waited for the fight to start — for the first fight to start.

All of that noise was just blurring together, forming a buzzing sound that was making the corridor tunnel vibrate around them; as she leaned against the metallic wall, Starlight could hear it humming a little behind her.

So much noise, echoing down to them where they stood in the shadows, waiting.

So why was Trixie standing there with her head down, her magician’s hat casting a shadow over her face so that Starlight could barely see it?

“Trixie?” Starlight asked. “What’s up? And don’t say ‘nothing’ because I already know that’s a lie.”

Trixie raised her head just a bit, although not too much; the brim of her hat was still casting a shadow over it, but at least Starlight could see her blue eyes now, if only a little.

“A lot of cheering out there,” Trixie said quietly.

Starlight grinned. “Yeah, that’s what surprises me, honestly. I thought it would have had you stoked.”

“Yeah, well,” Trixie murmured.

Starlight peeled herself off the wall and crossed the tunnel, standing much closer to Trixie now. “Well … what? You know, you were a lot more peppy yesterday.”

Trixie glanced towards the end of the tunnel, outside into the light, where the field of battle was waiting for them. “How many of those people out there do you think are here for us?”

Starlight blinked. “Is that what this is about? I don’t know, I haven’t polled, but I think we’ve got a fuller house than we did yesterday, and I’d say that we made a good impression on the crowds with our four on four fight.”

“But still,” Trixie said, “everyone … come on, Starlight, everyone thinks that we’re gonna get our asses kicked out there. Even Rainbow Dash and Blake and the others, they all think it too; they’re just humouring us by pretending that we have a chance—”

“I think we have a chance,” Starlight said.

“Now you’re humouring us,” Trixie muttered.

“Hey,” Starlight murmured reproachfully, as she raised a hand to Trixie’s cheek and chin, cupping Trixie’s pale cheek with her dark hand, at the same time as she tilted Trixie’s chin upwards, forcing the other girl to look at her. “That’s not fair. Just because the odds are against us, just because a lot of other people think they know what’s going to happen out there before it happens, just because of who we’re up against, that doesn’t mean that we don’t believe in us. I believe. I believe with all my heart, and with all my heart, I know that our friends believe in us as well, no matter what you think. And I believe all of that because…

“You know, all of this, the crowds, the cheering, being on TV, this ought to terrify me. I never wanted to be in the spotlight, I always hated being under pressure, but when I’m with you, it’s like none of that matters. I can go out there and do my best, and I don’t feel the eyes on me or the weight of expectations, but at the same time, I feel like we can’t fail because we’re Team Tsunami, the team led by the Great and Powerful Trixie, the leader who never gives up and who always believes in herself! And because you believe so strongly, so passionately, all the time, I can believe too: in you, in me, in us. I believe,” she grinned, “so it would be great if you could believe too, or else, I’ll feel really stupid.”

Trixie looked up at Starlight — not that she had much choice — and as she looked up, a smile spread across her face.

“I do believe,” she declared. “I believe that we can do this.” She put her hand on top of Starlight’s. “Sorry, I guess I just let it get to me for a second there.”

“Not a problem,” Starlight assured her. “Pyrrha may be a champion, but we’re not rookies ourselves. And we have magic on our side.” She winked.

“You got that right!” Trixie cried. “Now let’s get out there and kick some ass!”

Starlight chuckled. “That’s my Trixie.”

---

“So, how are you two feeling about this?” Jaune asked.

He was standing in the tunnel with the two of them; soon, he would go and leave Sunset and Pyrrha alone to face this next challenge before the crowds, but for now, he was here with them, embraced in shadow so that no shine reached his armour from the light coming in from outside.

“I must confess I feel … confident,” Pyrrha said. “Moreso than yesterday, though I know that I probably should not.”

“You felt nervous yesterday?” Sunset asked. “You didn’t let on.”

“Not … nervous, exactly,” Pyrrha murmured. “But rather … the fact that it was the beginning of the end, or at least the beginning of an end, weighed upon me. But now, the end has begun, and we are in the middle of an ending, and as a result … it weighs upon me not at all, strange as that may seem.”

Sunset snorted. “It makes sense,” she said. “Sort of, anyway. As for me … they’re good, no doubt about that, but I don’t have to beat Trixie; I just need to keep her busy long enough for you to deal with Starlight, and then you can deal with Trixie.” She smiled. “I wish I knew what semblance Starlight would be using, though.”

“Whatever semblance she has borrowed, I will adapt and deal with it,” Pyrrha declared. “The semblances of one’s opponents, like their choices in weapons, are simply things that one learns to work around.”

“Glad to hear it,” Jaune said. “I mean that’s great to hear, I mean it’s good that you’re not—”

“Jaune,” Pyrrha said gently, a touch of laughter in her voice, “you sound more nervous than we do.”

Jaune laughed nervously. “Well, I mean, not about the fight, but … you see…”

“Take your time,” Sunset said, a smile playing across her face. “After all, Professor Port and Doctor Oobleck haven’t even announced the second day of the tournament yet.”

Jaune sighed, a wordless murmur dropping from his lips. “You see…” he said again, scratching the back of his head with one hand. “This is actually all Amber’s fault, when she asked about me wearing this sash, the same as you, it … I guess it got me thinking that maybe, I don’t know, maybe you could … maybe I could … it took me a while to think of something but…” He took a deep breath as he reached into his pocket. “Pyrrha, I know that your outfit is, like, really well put together already, but all the same, I thought that, maybe you could wear this.”

Out from this pocket, he produced a strip of golden silk, too neatly severed to have been torn off anything; rather, it looked as though it had been cut with scissors, perhaps from a bolt of fabric.

Pyrrha smiled, and chuckled while she smiled, covering her mouth with one hand. “Is that what you are so nervous about? Oh, Jaune, that looks lovely, and I’d be delighted to.”

Jaune’s cheeks flushed a little. “Well, when you put it like that, it sounds like—”

“It would sound like that no matter how it was put,” Sunset interjected.

Pyrrha held out her right arm, that bore neither honour band nor vambrace upon it. “Would you mind tying it around my arm for me?”

“Uh, sure,” Jaune said. “Above the elbow or below?”

“Above, please,” Pyrrha said softly.

“Right,” Jaune said, and he wrapped the silk around her arm above elbow and glove, so that Pyrrha could feel the softness of the fabric upon her skin.

As he tied it, and Pyrrha felt the slight tightening of the fabric around her arm, felt the knot pressing gently upon her skin, Pyrrha asked, “Where did the silk come from?”

“Oh, um,” Jaune hesitated. “Well, you see, it took me a while to think of something because I don’t really wear a lot of yellow or gold, even though it’s kind of in my name, and my hair isn’t long enough for me to cut off some you could wear, so—”

“Why do I get the impression that I might not like the answer to this,” Pyrrha murmured.

“I cut off some of the inside lining of my dad’s suit,” Jaune explained. “He gave it to me after the anniversary party, said that it didn’t fit him anymore but it looked good on me. I thought about cutting off some of the outside, but then that would have spoiled the look of it—”

“So you decided to ruin the inside instead?” Pyrrha asked.

“Is it really ruined, though?” Jaune asked her in return. “Nobody is going to see the inside of it, are they? At least people are going to see it now, right? I mean, what do jackets even have insides for, anyway?”

“I am sure that there must be a reason,” Pyrrha said softly. “But … thank you, Jaune, I’m very flattered.” She cupped his face with one hand — her left hand — and leaned forwards to kiss him on the lips, tickling his tongue with hers before she pulled away. “I shall bear it proudly.”

Jaune stared at her for a moment, his eyes into her eyes, his eyes that were so very blue and very beguiling. Then he took a step backwards, looking from Pyrrha to Sunset and back again. “Have fun out there,” he said. “You’re gonna do great, I know it.”

“We know it too,” Sunset agreed. “But thanks anyway.”

A voice as if from the heavens boomed down amongst them, the voice of Professor Port amplified by his microphone.

“WELCOME, one and all, to the second day of the Vytal Festival tournament!”

The cheers of the crowd were redoubled or more in volume; they would have leapt so high as to strike the clouds were it not for the fact that they were already up amongst the clouds by virtue of the Amity Arena.

“I should get up to my seat,” Jaune said.

“Go,” Pyrrha told him. “You will be with me, nonetheless.” Her hand rose to the strip of silk that he had wrapped around her arm.

He beamed brightly and nodded, and then turned away, jogging back down the corridor, towards the outer ring of the arena, and thence up into the stands to watch her — watch them — fight.

Sunset shook her head. “You two are…” She trailed off. “Anyway,” she said. “Just think, one more fight, and you’ll be rid of me and have the field of glory all to yourself.”

Pyrrha laughed as she shook her head. “I am not anxious to be rid of you,” she said. “On the contrary, I … well, it occurs to me that we have never fought together thus, you and I. We have fought as part of the team, the four of us, but we have never fought just the two of us against two opponents.”

Sunset was silent for a second, her eyes rising upwards to suggest that she was thinking about it. “It wasn’t against two opponents, but we were the last two left against that mutant deathstalker.”

“I’m not sure it counts, considering that Jaune and Ruby were with us then, even if their auras gave out before ours did,” Pyrrha pointed out.

“Good point,” Sunset admitted. “Such a good point that it makes me wonder if I’ve made a mistake with this selection.”

“I do not believe you have,” Pyrrha declared. “As I say, I look forward to fighting by your side; or rather, since in many respects you have always fought by my side, perhaps I should say that I look forward to drawing swords together with you against a foe. It seems perverse that I should have done so with Cinder Fall, my enemy, but not with my best friend. We shall find our way to victory, I have no doubt.”

“No doubt,” Sunset agreed. “After all, while we may not have drawn swords together, it isn’t as though we don’t each know how the other fights. I’ll keep Trixie off your back, you have my word.”

“And I will defeat Starlight Glimmer,” Pyrrha agreed. “You have my word on that.” She paused a moment, the smile remaining upon her face. “This will be fun, will it not?” she said. “I hope that it will be, even as I feel perhaps that I should not wish for something fun, on the day—”

“You owe her nothing,” Sunset declared. “Her death … she was your enemy and would have sent you to your death given the opportunity; she has no right to cast a pall over you this day or any other day.”

Pyrrha glanced downwards. “I would have been friends with her and had her love.”

“She would not be friends with you, nor give her love,” Sunset replied. “That being so, put her from your mind. Today is … this is your time, not a time to grieve for one who hated you. Whatever the manner of her death, you cannot be obliged to weep for her.” She reached out for Pyrrha. “Let us go, and either yield great glory up to Starlight and Trixie, or else win great glory for ourselves, and have a lot of fun either way.”

Pyrrha smiled and placed her hand into Sunset’s outstretched open palm. “Let us go,” she said.

“We are now ready to begin the two-on-two rounds!” Doctor Oobleck declared excitedly. “As you’ll remember from yesterday, each victorious team selected just two of their members to go forward to fight in today’s matches!”

“Yes, but repetition doesn’t do any harm, Doctor,” Professor Port declared. “Now, kicking off today with a bang, we have two pairs of fan favourites who impressed the crowd with their performance. Can Sunset Shimmer and Pyrrha Nikos, and Trixie Lulamoon and Starlight Glimmer, please make their way out into the arena?”

“Looks like we’re up,” Sunset said. “Are you ready?”

“Absolutely,” Pyrrha said.

Sunset let go of her hand and turned to lead the way out of the tunnel and into the light of the arena — the light of the world beyond the shadows. The cheers of the crowd grew even louder, and Pyrrha could hear snatches of ‘Three Lions on a Shield’ competing with the cheers, and with the sound of Mistralian hunting horns blowing amidst the press of the crowd.

They walked across the metal surface of the arena, no terrain having been selected yet, and stood in the central hexagon.

Of their opponents, there was yet no—

An explosion of blue and purple smoke erupted in front of them, spilling out from the other side of the hexagon. And when the smoke cleared, there stood Trixie, her arms thrown out and upwards, her starry cape billowing around her, and Starlight Glimmer in her synthetic-looking Atlesian armour, staring at Trixie with a fond smile upon her face.

“The Grrrrrreat and Powerrrrrrful Trrrrrixie has arrived!” Trixie declared to the world as certain sections of the crowd began to cheer louder for her, just as other parts of the audience had redoubled their volume for Pyrrha and Sunset.

Sunset rolled her eyes. “So dramatic.”

Pyrrha glanced at her. “Did I hear you call someone else ‘dramatic’?”

“Yes,” Sunset replied. “What of it?”

“I say this with love,” said Pyrrha, “but I don’t think either of us have any grounds to throw stones on that account.”

“And after that unorthodox entrance,” Professor Port said, “all our contestants are now assembled: Sunset Shimmer and Pyrrha Nikos of Beacon!”

Still more cheers, even as the terrain indicators began to whirl around and around — for the two-on-two round, the terrain would be divided four ways, not two as had been the case in their first round match.

Pyrrha would have rather fought on the flat as was the Mistralian custom, but it was what it was.

And even in Mistral, the arena is not without its novelties. I still remember that naval battle to commemorate the anniversary of the conquest of Thrace where they flooded the arena and floated wooden ships upon the water.

“Trixie Lulamoon and Starlight Glimmer of Atlas!” Professor Port declared. Trixie swept her hat off her head and bowed low to the crowd.

The holographic icons for the various different terrain types came to a halt one after the other: lava and geysers behind Sunset and Pyrrha, forest and ruins behind Trixie and Starlight.

The metallic surface that Sunset and Pyrrha had so recently crossed disappeared as quadrants of terrain, smaller than the halves over which they had previously fought, emerged from out of the depths of the Coliseum.

Trixie produced a slender white wand from somewhere on her person, twirling it between her fingers.

“Just because you’re some far-famed tournament champion, Pyrrha Nikos,” she said, “don’t expect either Trrrixie or her glamourous assistant—”

“Ahem.”

“—partner to just lay down and let you take the victory without a fight,” Trixie concluded, correcting herself without missing a beat.

Pyrrha smiled as she pulled Miló and Akoúo̱ over her shoulders, settling into a ready stance with Akoúo̱ held before her and Miló, in spear form, drawn back for a thrust. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Starlight also pulled her weapon over her shoulder. In its gun mode, it resembled a standard Atlesian rifle such as General Ironwood’s soldiers used, except for the glowing blue line running down the barrel indicating it did not fire bullets.

And Pyrrha already knew from having seen Starlight fight Ruby that it could transform into a polearm.

It occurred to Pyrrha that, while Sunset was wondering whose semblance Starlight had borrowed for this fight, neither of them had speculated that she might try and copy one of their semblances, possibly even while denying it to Pyrrha or Sunset.

After all, Arslan had worked out what Pyrrha’s semblance was from her match with Cinder; why not Starlight also?

No matter; Pyrrha would not let Starlight lay a hand on her.

“Three!” Professor Port cried, his voice booming out across the arena.

“Two!” Doctor Oobleck shouted.

“One!” roared Professor Port. “Begin!”

Pyrrha started forwards, the sunlight glinting off her polished greaves and cuisses, her red sash beginning to stream out behind her as she took the first steps of her charge toward Starlight.

Starlight raised her rifle — if Pyrrha had heard the name, she shamefully did not recall it — and, even as she began to advance slowly towards Pyrrha with a careful tread, she opened fire, blue bolts of energy erupting from the muzzle of her gun to fly towards Pyrrha.

Pyrrha leapt aside, rolling on her shoulder along the grey surface of the central hexagon; she came up onto one knee and flung Akoúo̱ at Starlight. Pyrrha didn’t wait to see if the shield struck home or not; she charged right behind it, Miló gripped in two hands now but still drawn back for a thrusting stroke.

Starlight dodged the flying shield, darting aside, twisting her body at the waist to let Akoúo̱ fly past her, but in that moment, she ceased firing, and a moment was all that Pyrrha needed to close the distance between the two. Teeth gritted, she thrust Miló forward to smite Starlight on the breast.

And Starlight vanished, disappearing into whiffs of smoke that dissipated instantly, as though Miló were a fan blowing them all away.

Of Starlight Glimmer, there was no sign.

So, it was Blake’s semblance, then.

A wise choice, Starlight Glimmer.

“Those of you watching who also watched yesterday’s battle between Team Iron and Team Bronze—”

“And why weren’t you watching all of yesterday’s matches?” asked Professor Port, with a degree of asperity entering into his voice.

“—you may be thinking that you recognise the move that you just witnessed,” Doctor Oobleck said. “Starlight Glimmer’s semblance allows her to temporarily borrow or steal semblances — only one at a time — from others and make use of them herself. It appears that she has borrowed the semblance of Blake Belladonna of Beacon’s Team Iron.”

I wonder if you will reveal my semblance the moment I make use of it, Doctor, thought Pyrrha.

If so, it cannot be avoided, I suppose, and I will have no grounds to complain of unfairness after Ciel and Starlight were thus so rudely outed.

And besides, I only concealed my semblance for an advantage in the tournament, and that circuit is behind me now. So … say on, Doctor Oobleck, I suppose.

Pyrrha held out her arm, and Akoúo̱ flew back onto it, landing smoothly upon her vambrace.

She looked around and could still catch no sign of Starlight Glimmer, which made Pyrrha think that she had gone to ground either in the forest or the ruins, since Blake’s semblance didn’t allow one to disappear for long stretches of time. She would have become visible to the eye the moment Pyrrha dissipated the clone, unless, of course, she were out of sight by more conventional means.

Blake’s semblance. A very good choice.

Amongst her peers, there were two students whom Pyrrha … not feared, but felt a certain amount of caution or wariness towards the prospect of fighting, on account of their semblances: Blake and Weiss. That was not to say their semblances were the only things that made Pyrrha cautious of them — they both had many fine martial qualities — but their semblances were both, each in their own way, particularly tricky.

Yet neither of them were rendered invincible by them, any more than Pyrrha was.

Speaking of 'invincible,' she had to wonder why Starlight hadn’t shot at her yet.

Pyrrha risked a quick glance across the battlefield, to the lava field where Sunset was locked in battle against Trixie, who seemed to be shooting what looked like magic of her own from the tips of her fingers.

Could she be a unicorn from Equestria as well?

There would be time enough to wonder about that later; for now, Starlight was her opponent, just as she and Sunset had agreed before the battle began.

So why haven’t you fired at me, Starlight? I’m standing right here.

Since Starlight would not be so obliging as to reveal herself with a burst of fire, Pyrrha would have to make a choice: the forest or the ruins?

Or, it occurred to her, she could choose to make Starlight reveal herself.

Pyrrha turned, her hair flying behind her, her sash whirling about her, and began to run towards Trixie where she was locked in battle with Sunset.

A burst of fire interrupted her, just as she had expected it would, blue bolts flying out of the dark recesses of the forest and forcing Pyrrha to throw herself to the floor to let them pass overhead.

Pyrrha rolled along the ground as more bolts followed, slamming into the central hexagon and spitting up dust and shards of grey concrete. She leapt to her feet and darted into the geyser field, pursued by more shots from Starlight’s rifle as Pyrrha took cover behind a low rock, huddling beneath it as best she could for maximum concealment.

So, it was the forest then.

A geyser erupted, boiling hot water leaping into the air, spray seeming to dance in the air as it fell from the vertical stream; the first geyser was still erupting when a second blew off also, and Pyrrha used them both to conceal herself, darting behind first one, then the other, invisible to Starlight from behind the walls of water, changing her position without her Atlesian opponent seeing it.

Well… Pyrrha’s eyes darted swiftly up to the enormous television screens — something else they didn’t have in any Mistralian arena — mounted above the four corners of the ring; they were for the benefit of the crowd, but they could also, she supposed, benefit one’s opponents.

They could have benefited me, if I had thought to use them in my last match, Pyrrha thought to herself, but I am not used to their presence in my tournaments.

She had hope that the trees would prevent Starlight from seeing Pyrrha, or anything else, on the screens.

Pyrrha switched Miló from spear to sword as she used the cover of another erupting geyser to swift positions again, moving closer to the edge of the battlefield, and thus to the place were the forest and geyser biomes met as part of the circumvallation of the central hexagon.

And so, unseen by Starlight and untroubled by fire from out of the forest, she was able to cross from the geyser field and into the woods without having to expose herself by crossing the open ground in the centre of the battlefield.

The woods were thick, or at least they seemed so to Pyrrha; to her, the trees pressed close and cast long shadows. She could see no sign of Starlight anywhere; perhaps she was not there, perhaps Pyrrha had not seen her leave just as she had not seen Pyrrha enter, but Pyrrha doubted it. Starlight was still here, and though her Atlesian armour did not look stealthy, it was still a good sight stealthier than Pyrrha’s gilded armour, the gorget around her neck, the golden circlet on her brown, the bronze shield she bore.

Pyrrha did not expect to sneak up on her opponent; rather, the reverse.

She kept Akoúo̱ up in front of her, covering her chest and the lower part of her neck, as she moved cautiously through the trees, Miló held in a low guard ready to strike.

She could see nothing but the trees all around her and the shadows they cast upon the artificial grass. They surrounded her still, and yet, by the very fact that they concealed her foe, there seemed to be a malevolent aspect about them, as though they were a hostile crowd — no, worse than a crowd, for a crowd would cheer at least. These trees, it seemed to her, had chosen their side, and yet, even as they watched to see if Pyrrha would fall, their support for Starlight lacked enthusiasm. It was a cold thing, almost … dead.

As dead as Phoebe’s ambitions. As dead as they always were since her mother died, lacking anyone for whom she fought or anything but bitterness and envy.

Pyrrha frowned. She should not think of Phoebe now; she would not. She had a battle to fight; think only of that, focus on that.

Fight for Sunset, she thought. She glanced quickly at the golden silk tied around her arm, fight for Jaune, fight for everyone who puts their hopes on me.

Come, Starlight, will you not help drive these distractions from my mind? Or do you intend to hide from me until Sunset and Trixie have decided the issue between them?

Starlight emerged from the shadows, weapon slung across her back, fists clenched, throwing a punch at the back of Pyrrha’s head.

Pyrrha whirled around just in time, raising Akoúo̱ to deflect the blow. Starlight’s fist glanced off the bronze surface of the shield, her arm sliding over it. Pyrrha stepped forward, using Akoúo̱ to pull Starlight off balance while she slashed at Starlight’s midriff with her sword.

Starlight dissipated into smoke and shadow, reappearing a couple of feet behind where she had been, before she hurled herself on Pyrrha once again, fists at the ready.

Pyrrha met her, slashing crosswise with Miló. Starlight evaded the blow, her body twisting nimbly despite her armour, managing to throw a punch in Pyrrha’s direction, but the blow was weaker than it would have been, and with Starlight out of position as she was, Pyrrha was able to evade the blow in turn, pirouetting on her toe with a dancer’s grace to not only let the blow fly past her but also build momentum for another slashing stroke.

Starlight threw herself onto the ground, rolling backwards before leaping to her feet. Pyrrha pursued, not wanting to let Starlight slip away into the shadows. Not that it seemed that Starlight had any thought of escaping from her; as Pyrrha came on, she launched a spinning kick aimed squarely at Pyrrha’s head.

Pyrrha took the blow on Akoúo̱, shielding her head and face with it, feeling the force of Starlight’s blow as it jarred against her arm; she felt her aura drop slightly and had to brace her shield with her sword hand to stop the blow.

But once the blow was stopped, she was free to slash down at Starlight’s leg.

Starlight used another clone to get away, then reappeared behind Pyrrha, dropping down upon her from on high.

Pyrrha switched Miló from sword to spear for greater reach, turning and lunging upwards to puncture Starlight’s clone, which disappeared.

Starlight attacked from her right, and Pyrrha gave ground to give herself time to switch Miló back from spear into sword again, these trees pressed too close for a long weapon; doubtless, that was why Starlight was attacking with her fists instead of with her polearm.

Starlight followed after her, throwing out punches, trying to catch Pyrrha before her weapon transformed; fortunately, Miló could transform very quickly indeed, and Pyrrha thrust out with the blade, pricking Starlight’s shoulder with the point.

Another clone, another shadowy figure gone before Starlight appeared behind Pyrrha once again — behind and very close at hand, so close that Pyrrha could feel her breath on the back of her neck.

Pyrrha threw herself forwards, using Akoúo̱ as a battering ram to smash through a tree in a shower of splinters before turning, shattered wood falling down all around her, to face Starlight.

Starlight who wasn’t there.

Starlight who had jumped up into the air and now descended through the trees like a thunderbolt, one foot extended to slam down into Pyrrha as she crashed through the branches of the trees.

Pyrrha sidestepped, cutting upwards, her blow aiming for Starlight’s navel.

Another clone, another shadow dissipated, another Starlight appearing at Pyrrha’s side, leg lashing out in a sideswipe to cut Pyrrha’s legs out from under her.

Pyrrha jumped up, letting Starlight’s sweeping kick pass harmlessly beneath her before she kicked out with one foot at Starlight’s chest.

Starlight turned into a statue of ice; at least, she did for a second at most before the ice sculpture expanded outwards into a mere clump of ice — a clump which enclosed Pyrrha’s leg up past her knee.

Starlight was above her, fist drawn back.

Pyrrha gritted her teeth, throwing her shield straight upwards at Starlight even as she kicked at the ice with her free foot. Starlight disappeared, the clone disappearing in a shadowy haze as Akoúo̱ flew through where she had been, while Pyrrha’s blow — she had concentrated her aura around her boot a little more than usual — shattered the block of ice, scattering icicles in all directions.

Pyrrha fell, landing on her back on the forest floor, leaping to her feet immediately.

Starlight reappeared, and she seemed to have given up on her fists, because she had her rifle cradled in her arms once more — although the barrel was pointed towards the ground, not aimed at Pyrrha.

“You know,” she said, “I thought for sure that if I came at you from all directions, I was bound to catch you by surprise from one of them — or at least be faster than you could move. I underestimated you.”

“Thank you,” Pyrrha murmured.

Starlight paused for a moment. “Before the match, I wondered if you might have come up with a strategy to deal with Blake’s semblance … letting Blake — or me — drain my own aura creating clones while you just didn’t let yourself get hit, that is your strategy, isn’t it?”

“Not the most elegant way of winning, not the most satisfying,” Pyrrha admitted. “And not a manner of winning that will please the crowd, I fear. But Blake’s semblance is so very enviable: she can’t be hit unless she allows herself to be hit. I’d never admit this to her, but I’m really rather jealous.”

Starlight sniggered. “Yeah, well … Blake’s just cool, isn’t she? Maybe cool enough that she could have landed a hit on you.”

Pyrrha smiled. “I … will not deny the possibility. As you say, she is very cool. You’ll be lucky to have her, up in Atlas.”

“You don’t need to tell me,” Starlight replied. “Just like you don’t need to tell me that this isn’t really working out. So…” She raised her rifle, aiming at Pyrrha.

Pyrrha charged forwards, the black glow of her Polarity surrounding both arms as with one hand she summoned Akoúo̱ back to her, and with the other, she threw Starlight’s aim off ever so slightly so that the blue bolts of her rifle flew just past Pyrrha’s head and over her shoulder.

Starlight’s eyes widened as Pyrrha closed in.

Pyrrha fell upon her like a wolf from the fold.

Again, Starlight left a clone in her place, but this time, the clone was of earth, a stone statue of Starlight Glimmer standing where the real Starlight had stood just a moment ago.

And the real Starlight standing behind it, at the edge of the forest, already firing.

She meant for Pyrrha, carried by her momentum, to smash through the stone clone and take the fire.

And it was too late for Pyrrha to stop, her momentum would bear her on regardless, but it was not too late to throw herself forward, landing flat on the ground, skidding along the grass with her left hand — the hand onto which Akoúo̱ flew and landed on her vambrace — held out in front of her as Miló switched from sword to rifle mode in her right hand.

Pyrrha skidded forwards, smashing through the feet of the earth clone which toppled forwards — Pyrrha raised her legs at the knees in an almost equine kick to shatter the statue before it could fall on her — and continuing to skid forwards as Starlight’s bolts of energy flew over her.

Starlight adjusted her aim downwards, but with Miló in rifle mode — and discarding Akoúo̱ to one side for a moment — Pyrrha could aim too, and she fired first.

It was not quite true to say that Blake, or someone with Blake’s semblance, could only be hit if they allowed themselves to be hit.

They could also be hit if they were taken by surprise.

And Starlight was surprised as the rifle round hit her in the chest. It did not knock her off her feet, but it did make her reel backwards.

The second shot, following hard upon the first, did knock her off her feet.

Pyrrha rose to her knees, and while Starlight was momentarily down, she switched her attention to Trixie, firing a single shot in her direction.

---

Trixie pointed her wand at Sunset, a great gust of flame erupting from it, boiling out of it like dragon’s breath straight.

Sunset took a step back, raising her hands as she conjured up a shield to protect herself, the bubble of green magic surrounding her like a cocoon. The flames passed around the shield, lapping over it like water sweeping over a rock; they burned all around Sunset … but Sunset felt nothing of them. She ought to have been able to feel the flames against her shield, trying to break through the magic, but she couldn’t. She felt nothing at all.

Of course not.

Sunset lowered the shield and stood in the middle of the flames that did her no harm, did not even chip at her aura, did not even make her feel a little warmer. There was nothing to the illusory flames, conjured by Trixie’s semblance, but seeming.

Just as there was nothing but seeming to the Trixie who stood in front of Sunset, seeming to cast the flames that did not burn her.

So where was the real Trixie? To the left, to the right?

Above!

Sunset looked up to see Trixie in the air above her; she must have concentrated her aura into her legs to have made such a mighty leap, and now, she had soared up towards the shield that sealed off the arena ceiling, the gold and silver stars of her cape glistening in the morning sunlight as the cape itself flew out behind her.

Trixie’s wand was in her right hand, but it was her left hand that she drew back as if to throw something.

Sunset raised her palms, two bolts of magic blasting out of the palms of her hands, just as Trixie threw a handful of miniature fireballs — dust crystals that she had energised with her aura, no doubt — down towards Sunset.

Sunset teleported backwards, into the midst of the lava biome, where — a new feature that had not been present in the four-on-four round — streams of lava leapt intermittently upwards into the air, the burning hot molten rock rising six or seven feet up before falling down to the surface again.

Luckily, none of them were immediately near Sunset, but she kept one eye on them regardless. With her other eye, she saw Trixie’s fireballs slam down into the central hexagon where she’d been standing.

She saw one of her twin bolts of magic miss Trixie as she began to fall.

But she also saw the other bolt wing her on the shoulder, turning her descent into a spinning drop, her cape wrapping itself around her body as she fell towards the edge of the lava field.

Sunset unslung Sol Invictus from her shoulder as quickly as she could, took aim, and fired a fire dust round, and then another.

Like with the magic, the first missed.

Unlike with her magic, the second shot missed as well.

And Trixie hit the ground before Sunset would have expected she would, based on—

Right. More illusions.

Trixie leapt to her feet and leapt towards Sunset; she didn’t run, or charge; she truly leapt in a single bound that carried her over the lava, flying towards her opponent like an arrow from a bow.

Sunset fired a third time, and this time, she definitely hit, but though Trixie’s aura dropped, her momentum was not slowed in the least.

Trixie raised her wand.

Sunset raised one hand, conjuring another shield around her as the flames, real flames this time, surrounded her, engulfed her, passed all around the shield and over it as well. She could feel the heat through the shield, and she could feel the flames licking at her magic, biting at it, trying to find a way to break through and get at Sunset herself.

The flames died as swiftly as they had sprung up as Trixie flew through the dying flames, slamming the palm of her left hand into the green magical barrier. Sunset could feel the force of the blow, it vibrated through her hand and down her arm as though she had physically blocked the stroke — although she had the advantage that it did no damage to her aura — but it wasn’t powerful enough to break the barrier.

Trixie roared as she half-spun upon her toe, delivering a prodigious kick with a foot which must have still had more than its fair share of aura concentrated within it. Trixie’s boot collided with Sunset’s shield with enough force to make a crack appear in the magic.

Sunset let out a gasping breath, her arm trembling as she felt the force of that more powerful blow through the magic. She dropped the shield and teleported away, reappearing with a crack and a flash of green light on the border between the lava and geyser biomes.

Sunset’s hand was still up, and still wreathed in emerald magic, as she fired another magical blast straight at Trixie.

Trixie flinched away as she raised her own hand, and a blast of light blue something, a burst that almost resembled a cloud, so fluffy were its borders, whatever it was, it leapt from Trixie’s palm and intercepted Sunset’s magical bolt, colliding with it in mid-air, where both exploded in a turquoise blast.

Sunset’s eyes widened. Her eyebrows rose besides.

What was that?

She could almost hear Princess Celestia’s voice in her head. “I’m surprised at you, my little sunbeam, that you cannot recognise magic when you see it in front of you.”

But, Princess Celestia, humans don’t have magic!

“Then why was Pyrrha’s life in danger? Why did you strive to revive Amber? Why is Amber still in danger?”

Point taken, but the magic of the Maidens is so special precisely because it’s rare. There are only four of them, and I am confident in saying that Trixie isn’t one of them.

Although Rainbow did think that Starlight might be. She could have been on the right track but not quite aiming at the right target.

But then why would she use her secret magic in the tournament? Why would she be allowed to?

“Why should there not be other magics in the world, besides the four Maidens? Rarity need not imply exclusivity, after all.”

Another fine point, Princess, and yet at the same time … magic? If humans have magic of their own, then why am I only seeing it now? Can it really be so rare? And if it is not rare but rather secret, then again, why is Trixie so casually revealing it now?

Could it be she doesn’t know what it is she has?

Trixie opened her eyes.

“It … it worked?” she asked. “It worked! It worked! Yes! Trixie is great and powerful!” She pointed at Sunset. “You’re not the only one with tricks up your sleeve!”

Sunset grinned. “So it would seem. Great and powerful after all.”

“Naturally,” Trixie declared. She preened like a parrot as she held her wand out, not pointing it at Sunset but off to her side, and ostentatiously ejected the fire dust canister from the base of her wand.

From out of her sleeve, Trixie plucked a thin phial of cyan hard-light dust.

“Trrrrrixie doesn’t usually use hard-light dust,” Trixie declared as she slammed the phial into the base of her wand, “but against someone almost as powerrrrrrrful as me, Trrrrrixie was ready to pull out all the stops!”

A thin line of hard-light emerged from out of the tip of Trixie’s wand, extending about three feet out from the tip of the white wand like a slender sabre made of light.

Trixie grinned, twirling the blade in one hand as lava flows erupted on either side of her.

Sunset fired a bolt of magic from her palm. Trixie’s blade was a blur of light in her hand as she whirled it in front of her, intercepting the magical hand blast and deflecting it off towards the crowd in the stands. The blast struck the shield that protected the spectators from such effects, but Sunset doubted that stopped at least some people from shrinking back before the assault.

Trixie raised her left hand, palm out facing towards Sunset, fingers bent ever so slightly, not enough to be making claws but close.

Her fingers twitched.

Five clouds — that really was what they looked like to Sunset; she couldn’t help but think of them that way — of Trixie’s magic, wherever she’d gotten it from, appeared above her head, surrounding her like a half-halo.

One by one, they leapt forward, cutting through the air towards Sunset.

From the fingers of her free hand, Sunset cast magic straight back at them, miniature bolts of magic leaping from her fingertips to intercept Trixie’s blasts just as Trixie had intercepted hers. With her other hand, she quickly slung Sol Invictus back over her shoulder and loosed more magical blasts from her other fingertips.

Sunset’s first volley collided with Trixie’s attack, a succession of turquoise explosions blooming in the air between them. Sunset’s second volley shot through the clouds, returning Trixie’s compliment, but Trixie’s hard-light beam traced delicate patterns through the air as she deflected all of them away from her — to the ground, sending lava bursting into the air left and right, towards the stands, even back at Sunset, which she narrowly avoided.

More magic leapt from Trixie, and Sunset answered it with magic of her own.

She hadn’t intended, going into this tournament, to show off her magic to this extent; play it safe, she thought, rely on weapons and dust, she thought, keep it low-key, she thought. Don’t raise too many questions.

Well, that was then. That was before she found out that Trixie — Trixie! — had magic. She certainly wasn’t going to hold back now. If this was a magic duel, then she wasn’t going to give Trixie Lulamoon any reason to think that she had beaten Sunset Shimmer!

Trixie fired more magic at her, and Sunset answered it with magic of her own, magical bolts flying from the fingers of her right hand to answer every blue cloud that Trixie hurled her way, catching all of them as myriad turquoise flowers bloomed in the air between them.

Sunset, she had to admit to herself, used her magic in a few simple, trusted ways in a fight; Trixie, it seemed, had only one way of using her magic in battle — although perhaps she simply hadn’t had occasion to do anything else with it. But, in spite of that lack of versatility, as she fired her magic at Sunset, she had such a bright smile on her face, so much light gleaming in her eyes — she looked as though she were about to laugh with joy — that it seemed almost a shame not to hand her the victory.

Not that Sunset was going to, of course.

Teleport in close, use Soteria to beat down her guard, blast her in the chest?

That might work, but it might not provide me with the satisfaction I'm looking for.

If this is a magical duel, I'd like to beat her with magic.

A lava flow erupted, spewing the molten rock up into the air.

Sunset smiled out of one corner of her mouth, and surreptitiously — she hoped it was surreptitious, at any rate — she shifted her right hand behind her back so that Trixie couldn't see it glowing with magic.

With her left hand, Sunset kept up the duel with Trixie, although all of her magical bolts were intercepted either by Trixie's own magic or by the hard-light emanating from her wand. On the other hand, none of Trixie's magic was getting through either. It was starting to look as though they were at a stalemate, neither able to penetrate the other's defences.

Perhaps Trixie might have tried a new approach if another lava flow had not burst upwards at just that moment.

Sunset seized the leaping lava in the grip of her telekinesis; it was a little difficult with liquid — there was always a slippery quality to it that she could feel through her magic — but nevertheless, Sunset was able to hang onto the lava, wrapped in a bubble of her magical power, and yank it through the air, over the lava field and smack it into Trixie even as she turned to see it coming.

Trixie cried out as the lava covered one side of her face, her hand and arm, parts of her body, dropping her aura down into the yellow as she was knocked to the smouldering surface of the lava field. Trixie scrambled upright, barely avoiding another erupting lava flow, and raised her hand towards Sunset again.

This time, nothing happened.

Trixie grunted, twitching her fingers. Still, nothing happened.

Trixie growled wordlessly, a sound like a lawn-mower passing her lips as she screwed up her face in concentration.

Nothing happened.

"Projectile … go!" Trixie shouted. "Projectile … go!" She let out a kind of screeching sound. "Why isn't it working?"

Because it's tied to your emotions, Sunset thought, and you've come down off the euphoria of being able to do it the first time. Do you believe that you can do it consistently?

She might have been wrong about that, it might be that Trixie had simply used up her reserves of magical energy, or it might be something completely different — this wasn't Equestrian magic, after all. But, if it was Equestrian magic, then, well, there was an emotional component to it. It was a component that magic school — any magic school, still less a prestigious one — worked hard to train young unicorns out of so that they could master their abilities in any mood, but the link was there, especially if you were self-taught or just starting out as Trixie was.

But this was hardly the time or the place for Sunset to start giving Trixie advice on how to use her magic — there would be time for that after the battle was over — and so she kept quiet and drew Soteria across her back.

She had already used more magic than was wise, and Trixie's hard-light gave her a counter to it, and at this point, it felt a little unfair to abuse her advantage over Trixie; it would be like rubbing in her misfortune.

Trixie saw her and stopped growling at the failure of her magic. She settled into a fighting stance, her wand-sword drawn back behind her head, the light itself extending just past her eye level, while with her free hand she pointed at Sunset.

For her part, Sunset gripped Soteria in both hands, the black blade held before her in a low guard.

Lava erupted around Trixie. The geysers leapt up behind Sunset.

Sunset charged back into the lava field, and Trixie charged to meet her. As she charged, Trixie produced another fire dust crystal, charged it with a touch of aura, and flung it as a fireball straight at Sunset, who batted it aside with a blow of her sword. The fireball exploded, the heat washing over Sunset, but doing no harm to her aura as she charged.

The two closed in on one another like rival stags. Sunset swung Soteria two-handed in a diagonal slashing stroke. Trixie parried with her hard-light beam in one hand, but Sunset could see the force of her own blow jarring Trixie's arm, forcing it downwards. Trixie took a step back, yanking her blade away before countering, twirling her wand in her fingers before she brought the beam of light down on Sunset's shoulder. It was Sunset's turn to parry, turning the stroke aside before—

Starlight Glimmer charged at Sunset from her right, her pole-arm whirling.

Huh? What happened to Pyrrha?

Sunset began to retreat, trying to keep both Trixie and Starlight in view. Starlight brought her polearm straight down towards Sunset's head; Sunset raised her sword to block the blow.

Trixie slammed her beam of hard-light into Sunset's armoured gut and into her side, beating her aura level down as Sunset staggered backwards, parrying a third blow even as she glanced left and right to try and avoid any lava eruptions.

Starlight had disappeared.

Because she was never there at all.

Sunset attacked again. Trixie gave ground before her, but not fast enough to get away from Sunset, who thrust Soteria straight forwards. Trixie parried, but she wasn't strong enough to turn the stroke aside enough to stop Sunset from jabbing her in the gut. Trixie countered, forcing Sunset to parry in turn, and she was able to turn Trixie's thrust aside completely before she slashed at Trixie's midriff. Trixie jumped back a step, the stroke missing her. Sunset reversed her slash for a second attempt; Trixie parried, holding her wand in both hands now, resisting Sunset's momentum for just a second before bringing her light beam upwards and then down towards Sunset's crown. Sunset let go of the hilt of her sword with one hand, raising it above her to take the blow upon her vambrace, while with the other hand jabbing outwards with her black sword.

Trixie winced as she was struck in the stomach, staggering back, scuttling away when some lava burst out of the ground too near her.

"Trrrrixie," she declared, "is grrrrreat and powerrrrrrful, not a great swordswoman." The beam of hard-light streaming from her wand died as she ejected the phial of hard-light she had inserted into it earlier. "That was meant for you attacking me from a distance."

And now you've disarmed yourself, Sunset thought as she closed in for the metaphorical kill.

Again Trixie jumped, somersaulting over Sunset's head, and as she leapt, she produced a canister of yellow lightning dust that she slammed into the back of her wand so that when she landed, she was armed once more.

Trixie pointed her wand at Sunset.

Sunset gathered her magic to conjure up a shield.

There was a bang, the sharp report of Miló echoing in Sunset's ears as Trixie's wand was blown out of her hand, flying away to land somewhere in the lava field.

Trixie stared, a little wide-eyed, at her empty hand where her wand had been.

She blinked twice, then looked at Sunset.

"She's good," Trixie said.

Sunset grinned. "Yep," she agreed. "She's the best."

Trixie sighed and then raised her palms, her feet shifting as she settled into a posture that almost certainly belonged to some martial art, although Sunset didn't know the name of it. "Trixie won't go down without a fight!"

"I'd expect nothing less," Sunset said.

Trixie charged. Sunset let Soteria fall to the ground and unslung Sol Invictus once more from her shoulder.

She had time for a single shot before Trixie reached her.

A single shot was all it took.

"Trixie Lulamoon's aura has dropped below the limit!" Doctor Oobleck cried. "She has been eliminated from the match."

Trixie stood, not still — she was swaying a little from side to side — but without any sense of deliberate motion. Finally, with a low and wordless moan, she dropped to her knees.

Sunset stepped forward, and offered Trixie her hand up. "That was pretty fun, I thought."

Trixie looked up at her. "Aren't you going to—?"

"What?" Sunset asked. "Steal Pyrrha's kill?"

"I was going to say help out your teammate," Trixie said.

"Nah, Pyrrha doesn't need my help with this," Sunset replied. "And as much to the point, I doubt her lady mother would appreciate it if I gave her my help. I'm sorry, but Pyrrha's got this."

---

I hope you don't mind the helping hand, Sunset.

Pyrrha returned her attention to Starlight.

They were both out of the forest now, perched upon the edge of the ruins, with rubble strewn around them as though one of General Ironwood's cruisers had flown overhead to drop a bomb or two upon the place. Starlight, having regained her feet, was set a little higher than Pyrrha, upon a slightly slanted slab of debris — part of a wall, or meant to resemble such — supported by an uneven mound of rubble beneath.

The rifle in her hands transformed; it shifted, accompanied by a fair amount of electronic buzzing, out of its rifle mode and into its polearm form; the blade glowed blue as Starlight gripped the metal shaft with both hands.

Pyrrha rose to her feet, Miló transforming smoothly from rifle into spear; she held said spear in one hand while she slung Akoúo̱ off her back and onto her left arm.

She did not think that Starlight would lightly use another clone.

And so she attacked, Akoúo̱ held before her; as she came on, approaching the fallen wall where Starlight stood, Starlight swiped at her with her polearm, trying to use her longer weapon to keep Pyrrha at bay, but Pyrrha ducked the blow and let the glowing blade pass cleanly over her head. She rose up, half turning to bring Akoúo̱ down upon the polearm, hoping to force it to the ground and maybe even out of Starlight's hand, but Starlight wrenched it away, turning in place and raising the weapon so that it swiftly passed out of Pyrrha's reach. Pyrrha closed the distance with Starlight, thrusting Miló forwards towards her chest. Starlight gave ground, retreating so that Pyrrha ran out of arm's length before the tip of her spear touched Starlight's armour. Starlight leapt backwards, vaulting onto a shattered wall behind her, gaining greater elevation over Pyrrha as she brought the polearm down on Pyrrha's head.

Pyrrha raised Akoúo̱ above her head and turned the stroke aside, angling her shield in such a way that Starlight's blade skittered off the bronze as Pyrrha twisted her body aside and used the shield to force the halberd blade down to the ground, where it bit deep into the stone. She swiped at Starlight's legs with Miló, but Starlight leapt over the spear and landed on the wall again.

Pyrrha backed away a step or two, then mounted the wall where Starlight stood, so that they faced one another both perched upon this narrow strip of shattered stonework.

Pyrrha slung Akoúo̱ across her back and gripped Miló in both hands, sacrificing a little of the spear's length for greater control; for her part, Starlight adjusted her grip on her own weapon, holding it closer to the blade so that she had less reach but, again, more control over it.

They met in the middle of the wall, weapons whirling in their hands. Pyrrha attacked high and was blocked; Starlight countered by trying to cut Pyrrha's legs out from under her, but Pyrrha leapt over the swiping blade to land upon the wall again. Starlight did the same thing when Pyrrha tried it, just as Pyrrha blocked Starlight's high attack with Miló.

She was good. Quick, strong, well-trained; Pyrrha could not break her guard, even as Starlight could not break Pyrrha's. Miló clashed with Starlight's glaive again and again, metal ringing and clanking, but whatever one did, whatever approach one tried, the other could counter it. They parried, and they parried, and they parried, and if they had chosen to attack the wall, they would have done more damage to it than they were doing to one another's aura. Miló was a blur at times in Pyrrha's hand, but Starlight's weapon was just as much a blur in her sure-handed grasp, and there was not enough in it between them for Pyrrha to break through in a frontal assault.

Pyrrha could see why General Ironwood had thought that she might be worthy to guard the powers of a Maiden.

But still … her polearm was made of metal.

Pyrrha did not especially like using her semblance in this way; it felt … it felt more dishonest, perhaps because she was keeping it a secret, than the more flamboyant, obvious uses to which other fighters put their semblances.

She did not like using her semblance in this way, but at the same time, it was her semblance, to do with as she would within the rules of the tournament, and she did like winning, at least a little.

And so, a faint black outline surrounded her right hand, and as Starlight moved her polearm to black Pyrrha’s next strike, Pyrrha threw her weapon ever so slightly off.

And in so doing, created an opening that Miló crashed through to slam into Starlight’s chest. Pyrrha let off the dust charge in the butt of her spear, extending Miló’s tip outwards and adding yet more force to the blow as Starlight was hurled backwards off the wall to land heavily upon the rubble beneath.

She began to roll down the rubble slope, but Pyrrha did not wait for her to stop; she leapt down in pursuit of her adversary, pulling Akoúo̱ off her back and onto her arm as she did so. She stood astride Starlight and slammed her shield down onto the back of Starlight’s head, doing the double damage of the impact and the fact that it slammed Starlight’s head down into the ground.

Pyrrha raised her shield and brought it down again, but this time, Starlight did use another clone to escape.

She reappeared in the shadows of the bombed out building that dominated the ruins, charging out with her polearm levelled like a spear. Pyrrha brought Akoúo̱ around to block and turn the blow, but Starlight recoiled before she struck, drawing back, then parrying Pyrrha’s own thrust with Miló.

Two more thrusts, and again, Starlight held her off, her reflexes swift and sure enough to withstand Pyrrha’s probing attacks, for all that she was forced to give ground in the face of the onslaught.

Another touch of Polarity, another slight movement in Starlight’s weapon, another gap opened in Starlight’s guard, and Pyrrha struck her in the shoulder with such force that Starlight staggered back into the wall of the building.

She stared at her polearm for a second, and then discarded it, letting it clatter down amongst the stones of the ruin.

Starlight raised her fists as she stepped away from the wall. Her face was inscrutable.

Pyrrha nodded and stepped into a guard.

Miló switched from spear to sword in her hands, clicking and clacking.

Starlight attacked with a bellowing roar, rushing Pyrrha and lashing out with a high kick that made Pyrrha retreat before it. Starlight threw out one punch, then another, both her fists slamming into Akoúo̱ with a jarring force. She kicked again, leaping into the air before bringing her foot down upon Pyrrha, who took the blow upon Akoúo̱ — she could feel the force of it jarring through her arm — before using the shield to toss Starlight backwards. And as Starlight fell, so, too, did Pyrrha fall on her, slashing at her with her sword once, twice, three times before Starlight struck the ground and rolled immediately back onto her feet.

Starlight hesitated, head down, hands down by her side.

Then she looked up at Pyrrha and grinned.

And then she attacked again.

Pyrrha flowed forwards, slashing with Miló.

Starlight exploded. Or rather, the clone infused with fire dust exploded, the heat washing over Pyrrha, the light blinding her as the force of the blast picked her up and bore her backwards, carrying her into the wall on which she and Starlight had lately fought with a force that cracked the stonework and sent shockwaves reverberating through Pyrrha’s aura as it dropped.

Pyrrha recovered her feet and jumped over the wall, half-crouching down behind it as cover, eyes searching for Starlight.

She found Starlight standing where her clone had exploded, looking at Pyrrha.

She held up one finger of one hand.

One hit. She had gotten a hit on Pyrrha.

Pyrrha straightened up and bowed her head, then, shifting Miló from sword back into spear mode, she threw it like a javelin at Starlight Glimmer.

It flew straight and true and smote her on the breast.

“And now, Starlight Glimmer has also been eliminated by aura depletion!” Professor Port declared, as Starlight fell backwards. “The winners of this match are Sunset Shimmer and Pyrrha Nikos!”

A vast cheer rose up from the crowd then fell on Pyrrha like a great wave crashing down upon the shore. It seemed to come from all sides, it fell like rain from the heavens, it echoed like thunder above her head.

But it could not drown out the single voice that drew closer and closer to her.

“We won!” Sunset yelled as she ran across the battlefield. “WE WON!”

Pyrrha laughed brightly. “Yes,” she said, as Sunset scrambled across the ruin to reach her. “Yes, we did.” She raised one eyebrow. “Did you ever doubt it?”

Sunset gasped. “No,” she said at once. “No, of course not, but … but even so.” She placed both hands on Pyrrha’s shoulders. “We won, together.”

Pyrrha smiled. “Together. After a fashion.”

“Well, yes, I suppose we didn’t exactly fight as one, but…” Sunset trailed off. “That shot of yours, it was a very nice shot, but you could have shot Trixie herself. Did you want to leave her for me, or were you showing off your own accuracy?”

Pyrrha felt her cheeks heat up a little. “Can it be both?” she asked.

Sunset chuckled. “I don’t see why not,” she said. “I mean, if there is ever a time for showing off, I suppose this is it.” She pulled Pyrrha into a hug, wrapping her arms around Pyrrha’s shoulders and drawing her in. Pyrrha could feel Sunset’s hair against her cheek, a cushion between their two faces.

“Thanks, Pyrrha. I’m glad … I’m glad we were both here.”

Pyrrha let out a little chuckle of her own as she put her arms around Sunset’s waist. “I’m glad we were both here too.”

They half released one another, but they kept one arm each on the other — Sunset’s arm on Pyrrha’s shoulder, Pyrrha’s arm around Sunset’s waist — as they turned to face a part of the crowd that surrounded them and waved to acknowledge their cheers.

Pyrrha wore a polite smile, but Sunset’s smile was bright, joyous; her green eyes sparkled, her tail swept eagerly from side to side. She looked like someone parched who had come to a river of cool, clear water.

She looked like someone who had been waiting years for this.

Pyrrha laughed a little, and her own smile brightened, and she waved more eagerly to the crowd because today, whatever had happened, whatever would happen, today was a good day.

They kept their arms on one another as they took a bow, together.

Author's Note:

The picture of Trixie and Starlight, which I have wanted for quite some time, was done for me by Schruby, while the picture of Sunset and Pyrrha there at the end was done by the talented McMystery.

Comments

[Kiue Jin]

Sunset, the magical teacher of Trixie... I like it!

Then again, Sunset X Trixie is a secret ship I enjoy

[Stet709]

Honestly, this match felt like a bit of a mirror match. Each side had 2 best friends, one a proud, somewhat arrogant magic user (who also happens to be the team leader), the other a combatant usually hiding their semblance in favour of skill (Edit: oh, and I forgot the latter was also a Maiden candidate)
As said, Starlight and Trixie are good, but Sunset and Pyrrha are better.

Now for Sunset to tell Princess Twilight she magic duelled Trixie, only for Twilight to be like "First time?"

The bit about Emerald having some sympathy for Sunset surprised me, plus the fact that she doesn't outright hate Sunset. She's... just a little envious that Sunset has something more of what she wants: Cinder's attention.

Also, the bit about Tempest calling everyone else awful... Honey, look in a mirror, you serve an evil immortal Grimm witch hellbent on destroying humanity... who's the awful one here?

[Voltaje]

11689570
In EQG universe perhaps is reasonable, but sadly, here is not possible,

[Voltaje]

Will you be also doing a DCxRWBY croosover? like DCxSAPR later on? or will you just leave it at that?

[Scipio Smith]

11689683
I did consider it, or rather I considered introducing the Remnant versions of Wonder Woman and Superman from the original RWBY x DC crossover comic (although it would have been an evil Superman enslaved by Calliope Fearny so not really Superman) but ultimately this story is so long and has so many characters that I felt the additions couldn't be justified.

[Thisguyhere]

He told me that he knows that Pyrrha is your brother’s boyfriend,

I think you meant girlfriend there, unless there's something about this Pyrrha you haven't been telling us

[Mastermind4892]

This was an outstanding chapter. Beautiful for everyone involved!

Two notes of particular import to me. The first, we finally get an inside look of Tempest's motivations (aside from her Equestrian counterpart). It shows she does have the same kind of intolerance as Cinder, contemptuous of those she perceives as weak and/or annoying to her. It makes you wonder, does Tempest of Remnant truly consider something like the 'annoying' way Trixie rolls her rrrr's to be punishable by death? It would say a lot about her character.

And second, thank you so much for a chapter in which Sunset and Pyrrha got to shine in the tournament spotlight together. They didn't get that chance in the original. There is a true and beautiful bond between them. Jaune is Pyrrha's love, Ruby the sister she never had... but Sunset is her best friend. In fact, they are each other's first friend.

[Luviere]

Now hold up a damn second. Why is Starlight packing a whole bakery? God damn i like her design so much.

[Luviere]

There was a bang, the sharp report of Miló echoing in Sunset's ears as Trixie's wand was blown out of her hand, flying away to land somewhere in the lava field.

Oh come one. One time. Just one fucking time i want to see Sunset win a damn fight widout someone interfering. Is it so much to ask for? Why did... why? I don't fucking care anymore. God i fucking hate this. Such a good moment ruined by such a dumb fucking decision.

[Aemon Targaryen]

11746044
Which design? I don't see it.

Edit : okay I found the art.