SAPR

by Scipio Smith

I Would Have Followed (New)

I Would Have Followed

A raven cawed out in the darkness. Sol Invictus jostled a little on Sunset’s shoulder as she trudged across the ground towards the garages.

She had called in on the locker room — it was locked, but that was no obstacle to someone who knew the layout of the room well enough to teleport inside — to retrieve her rifle and her armour, but she had left Soteria where it was; she did not have it with her. The cuirass and vambraces she had thought about leaving, since they had been purchased with Lady Nikos’ money, and she was hardly going to be putting them to the use to which Lady Nikos had intended, but, at the same time, it might also be said that Sunset had already paid Lady Nikos back the value of the armour in the services which she had rendered on the battlefield and in the Amity Colosseum.

And besides, what was Lady Nikos — or anyone else, for that matter — going to do with an ordinary breastplate and two vambraces, plain and unadorned? Did she not have an armoury of antique gear of war, groaning with pieces much finer than these and with more distinguished histories? What would happen to these things, if she left them behind, except that they would be thrown away, tossed in the garbage?

They deserved better than that, although what Sunset could give them, and whether that qualified in any way as better, she could not say.

But Soteria … Soteria was different. Soteria was no ordinary blade, purchased with a few of Lady Nikos’ lien; Soteria was an ancient and a venerable blade, old in honour, storied in history, a sword the ownership of which the heirs of Nikos and Kommenos had contested. It was a sword that Lady Nikos had gifted Sunset out of that same armoury in which Sunset’s armour would seem too mean to command a place, a sword that had played a part not unremarkable in the history of Mistral itself. Lady Nikos had given Soteria to Sunset that she might use in Pyrrha’s defence, or at the very least to fight at Pyrrha’s side. It was not Sunset’s to take with her into mean, dishonourable exile in … where?

Where did Sunset mean to go next?

She did not know. Her thoughts had carried her no further than the garage, where now, her steps brought her to rapidly catch up with thought. She had intended to get her gun, which she had done, and then go to the garage and get her bike, which she was about to do, because she would have need of transport where she was going.

Except she didn’t actually know where she was going, only that wherever it was, having her bike with her might be advisable.

Except … would it? Would it really? Did that not all depend on where, precisely, she was going to go, a question that had not yet been answered, a question that had, in point of fact, scarcely been asked?

Sunset’s steps slowed, until eventually, they came to a complete halt. Where was she going? Or perhaps the question was, where did she mean to go? Until that question was answered, could she really say yea or nay to whether she needed to have her bike?

Was she going to ride, or try to ride, through the hordes of grimm that General Ironwood said were gathering upon the outskirts of Vale? Did she really—?

No. No, I do not hope for that. Though I have lost much, I do not … for whatever reason, I do not desire to swiftly end in a beowolf’s belly.

Perhaps it is just a sense of the inherent hypocrisy — not that I am inherently opposed to all hypocrisy, but still — of being exiled for saving the lives of my friends and then immediately getting myself killed.

Or perhaps I still have hope.

Or perhaps I am still vain enough to think that life and fate may not be done with me yet.

Or perhaps … perhaps I just don’t want to die.

That was a satisfactory enough explanation; it even had the merit of being — or feeling, at least — true. She did not want to die.

She wasn’t sure what she was going to do with her life, but she did not want to end it.

But what would she do? Where would she go?

You could go home.

Is that my own thought suggesting that, or Princess Celestia?

Princess Celestia would probably add some term of endearment, but yes, she would remind me that I will always have a home in Equestria, if I wish it.

I could go back, I suppose. There is nothing to stop me, unless you count the possibility that flights are grounded by grimm activity. But that will be cleared up eventually, or at least, one would hope so, and after that, I could get a flight to Atlas, and from there to Canterlot, and from there…

Just a step there through the mirror, and I would be back in Equestria.

Back in Equestria, back on four hooves, back with a horn protruding out of my head; I would never have to worry about grimm or Salem or anything else ever again.

I could find something to do there, no doubt. I would not be a hero there — Twilight and her friends have that covered — but at the same time, I wasn’t much of a hero here, so it’s probably for the best that I wouldn’t need to get involved there. But I could find something to do, with my brains, my magical talents. I could do research. I could become an adventuring explorer like Daring Do. I could … I could do whatever I wanted, and no one would gainsay me. I could do anything. I could make new friends; I am not too old for that.

I’d have to make new friends, seeing as how I’d never hear from or of the old ones again.

Sunset stood, halfway to the garages, and adjusted Sol Invictus where it sat on her shoulder. She kept one hand upon the sling of the rifle, gripping it tightly, perhaps even a little too tightly.

If she went back home, then not only would she never see her friends again — there was a very high chance that she would never see them again anyway — but she would never hear of them again either. Never hear of their deeds, their successes or failures, their fates. She would never read an article or watch an item about Jaune and Pyrrha’s wedding; she would never find out how Penny was getting on at Beacon, never catch word of Blake’s promotions, her rise through the ranks of the Atlesian military. She would never know anything. If she went back to Equestria, if she went back through the mirror, then she would be severing all connection not only with the place where she had lived for years now, but also with the only people she had ever loved who were not named ‘Princess Celestia.’

If she went through the mirror, if she severed that tie, then she would be left to wonder. She would be left to wonder for all that she could do would be to wonder, and Sunset knew that if she put herself in that position, then for as long as she lived, for the rest of her days, she would wonder; she would wonder how they were doing, what had become of them, what victories they had won, whether they were happy.

Whether they were still alive.

If she went back to Equestria, then she would leave a piece of herself behind here in Remnant, a piece of her soul that remained trapped here, unable to depart, and that missing part would eat away at her and feed her dissatisfaction.

If she went back to Equestria, then a part of her mind would be forever turned back towards Remnant, consumed with speculation.

I will never be able to forget.

No. No, I cannot go back. I am sorry, Princess Celestia, but I cannot go back to Equestria. These people, they … they mean too much to me. Though they may not want to see me, though they want nothing to do with me, though they think me now as bad as Cinder, nevertheless, I cannot simply waltz off to another world.

Not like I did before.

Yes. Yes, that was what she had done before, wasn’t it? Failed in Equestria, so gone to Remnant; well, it might be said — and with some truth and justification behind it — that she had failed in Remnant too, but nevertheless, she would not simply respond by going to Equestria as she had once fled to Remnant.

Fleeing to another world had turned out to be the best decision that she’d ever made, but that hadn’t made it a right or good or certainly not a mature decision. She was not that person anymore; she had … she had something to stick around for, if that made any sense at all.

Yes, Ruby had banished her, yes, they had forsaken her, but nevertheless … nevertheless, she was going to stick around. She couldn’t just leave Remnant; she couldn’t just leave them. Pyrrha, Ruby, Jaune, Penny, Blake, Rainbow Dash … though they might not want her around, nevertheless, she would…

Sunset wasn’t exactly sure what she’d do, but she wouldn’t leave this world, with all of them in it, behind. She wouldn’t run away to a different world where her life would be easier. That wasn’t who she was, not now.

What she was, now that she was no longer a huntress — if, as Ruby said, she had ever been a huntress — or a Beacon student, that was something that was harder to decide.

Where did she go from here? She had narrowed it down to going somewhere in Remnant; unfortunately, that didn’t narrow it down very much.

“You could come with me.”

Sunset tried — and largely failed — to stifle a gasp of surprise as she whirled around to see someone standing at her side, about six feet away from her.

She was a tall woman, taller than Sunset herself, about Pyrrha’s height or maybe even a little taller, wearing ornate armour of blood red and black, lamellar in nature, with segmented vambraces and pauldrons covering her arms and shoulders, and a patterned cuirass decorated with … it was hard for Sunset to make out exactly what the decoration was supposed to be. It was like an optical illusion, that looked at one moment like a storm of feathers, and the next managed to like blood spattered over a black background.

Her armour, and her high boots, left only her face and a little of her upper thighs visible, but that was enough to reveal a fair complexion and a face that still retained a youthful aspect, even as the lines of middle age began to encroach upon it.

Though there was little youthful about her eyes. The woman’s eyes were red, a little like Yang’s eyes when she became angry, except that Yang’s eyes, when they turned red, seemed to possess an inner fire behind them. This woman’s eyes were the cold red of shed blood, ebbing out of a dying man. All the youth that remained upon her face seemed banished from those eyes. Tangled necklaces of crimson beads hung from her neck, and she had one hand resting upon the hilt of a large sword that she wore on her hip.

Sunset shuffled backwards a step, one hand beginning to glow green with magic.

The woman, whoever she was, raised the hand that she was not keeping on her sword. “If I’d come here to pick a fight with you, I wouldn’t have startled you with a word; I would have cut you down while you were lost in thoughts.”

“Who are you?” Sunset asked. “What do you want with me? What do you mean, come with you?”

“That last one’s quite obvious, don’t you think?” the woman asked. “As for the first question, my name is Raven. Raven Branwen.” She smirked. “Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

Sunset blinked. “Ra—… you’re Yang’s mother?”

“Summer Rose is Yang’s mother,” Raven said. “I just delivered her, in every sense.”

“That’s…” Sunset trailed off, because as much as it sounded harsh and cold, it was, at the same time, fair enough. As much as the instinct was towards revulsion, it was arguably a healthier attitude to take than to abandon her daughter but then turn up years later seeking to assert some kind of maternal rights over Yang, in defiance of the fact that she had left her to be raised by someone else. It was better, arguably, to say that Summer Rose was Yang’s mother; it was certainly true to say that.

Sunset had never wondered who had delivered her, in every sense. The question had never really entered into her mind. She was aware that she must have been delivered by someone, some mare had made her with the help of some stallion, someone had left her on the steps of the palace, but Sunset had never really asked who they were. There had been another mare in her class, Rosemary, a gifted girl from an orphanage in Canterlot; she had been obsessed with her parents, to the extent it had started to interfere with her grades, she was always doodling pictures of her and her mom in the margins of her homework. Sunset had found it bizarre at the time, and to a great extent, she still found it bizarre. Her mom, if she was still alive, had left her behind. She had dumped her in that orphanage; forget the question of why she would come back for her daughter, the question was why you would even want her to.

Sunset had always been free of such questions, such daydreams. Such cares had never troubled her.

If Raven and Yang could both have come to similar such positions, it would have been for the best for both of them.

Although, if Raven really ceded all rights and relations with Yang, that didn’t explain why she’d shown up during the break when Sunset had been in Alba Longa.

And it certainly didn’t explain what she was doing here now.

“Yang,” Sunset said, “isn’t here.”

“Obviously,” Raven said flatly. “I’m here to talk to you.”

“Really?” Sunset muttered, shifting her hand from the strap of her rifle down to her hip. “About what, exactly?”

Raven rolled her eyes. “About the fact that you’ve just been kicked out of Beacon, to all intents and purposes—”

“How do you know—?”

“I know,” Raven declared. “I know that Ruby Rose, every bit as righteous as her mother but without, it seems, so much of her compassion, has disowned you. I know that you won’t be welcomed back into your team any time soon. And, whether or not Ozpin would take your side or Ruby’s side, it’s clear that you’ve decided to leave the school. Just like it’s clear from the way you were standing there woolgathering that you have no idea where to go next. So, I’m offering you a place to go, a place to stay, with me and my tribe.”

“You and your bandit tribe, you mean,” Sunset said. “You and your tribe of cutthroats and desperadoes?”

“Don’t talk like you’re any better than I am,” Raven said, her voice sharpening. Her heels clicked on the stone as she walked a few steps closer to Sunset. “We both know what you are, and more importantly, we both know that if you weren’t a murderer, Ruby wouldn’t have kicked you out, and you wouldn’t be slinking off in the middle of the night.”

“I did—”

“What was necessary, I know,” Raven said. “You did what had to be done, for the good of the group. Unlike Summer’s girl, I don’t see any shame in that.”

That doesn’t exactly take away my shame, to be honest with you, Sunset thought.

“You have my sympathies, for the position you’re in,” Raven went on. “I know, I might be the only person in Remnant who really understands what you’re going through right now. I know very well what it’s like to love those who are so much—”

“Better than you?” Sunset suggested.

She had meant it as a barb, thinking to prick Raven, to get under her skin, even though there was little rational reason for wanting to get under her skin, just a vague irritation at her presence, even at the sympathy that she professed to offer. But, instead of growing irritated by her words, Raven seemed to become … sad. The corners of her mouth turned down, and her head bowed for a moment.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Better than me.” She looked at Sunset. “I know what it’s like to love them, and I know what it’s like to feel as though the very things that make them better than you are what will eventually, inevitably, destroy them. And you’re right. It will destroy Ruby in the end, just as it did her mother.” She paused for a moment. “I know what it’s like to try and protect them anyway, just as I know what it’s like when that divide between you and them, between their virtues and your … when it finally becomes an unbridgeable chasm, and you can’t reach them … and they lose interest in reaching you.”

Is that what happened? Or is that what you tell yourself happened?

“Yes,” Raven said. “I was a lot like you when I was younger. Of course, I didn’t have your … gifts. But, because I understand what it’s like, because I understand what you’re going through better than anyone else, I’d like to offer you an answer to the dilemma that you were pondering earlier.”

“You want me to become a bandit,” Sunset said flatly. “Working for you.”

“And for yourself,” Raven replied. “You’d get your share of the spoils—”

“And do my share of the killing, too?” Sunset asked. She went on before Raven could respond. “Yes, I caused some deaths; I admit that, I’m not going to stand here and deny it, claim that I have any real right to a moral high … high ground. I caused the deaths of those people, and I have to live with the consequences of that, but I’ll tell you this: I didn’t do it so I could steal their stuff!”

Raven was silent for a moment. “No,” she admitted. “No, I suppose you didn’t. And, since we’re being honest, I’m not going to stand here and pretend that what I’m offering you is some sort of wonderful life. I could talk about the marvellous community on offer, the sense of family, but—”

“But if it was all that, you wouldn’t have left your daughter behind,” Sunset murmured.

“Precisely,” Raven agreed. “As I said to you, I knew that Tai, and Summer, would give Yang a better life than I could with the tribe.”

“Did you…?” Sunset hesitated. “Did you know that they would—?”

“I can’t see the future, if that’s what you’re asking,” Raven replied. “But I knew that Summer liked him. The only one who didn’t realise that was Tai himself; everyone else could see it plain as day. But she didn’t have the guts to act on it when we were at school. She just stood there, supporting him, waiting ever so patiently for him to notice her, like a good girl should.”

Raven chuckled. “She told me that she didn’t blame me for making the move when she wouldn’t or couldn’t. Told me that she didn’t hold me getting in her way against me. That didn’t stop me feeling guilty about it. I … hoped that she would step in, once I was out of the way. That way, I could tell myself I was helping them too, not just myself.”

She paused. “I wouldn’t be here, offering this to you, if you had any better offers; there is camaraderie amongst the tribe, there is community, there is a bond we share … but there is also a lot of running from huntsmen and mercenaries hired to stamp us out, a lot of constant moving around, a lot of staying one step ahead of the authorities, and a lot of going hungry because the pickings are lean this season, and you can’t find a target that you can pillage that you didn’t already clear out the year before. Plus, if you’re squeamish, the raiding and the pillaging itself can be off-putting.

“I won’t pretend to you that this is a romantic life, living in the greenwood, robbing from the rich, letting the humble ploughman pass us by. The rich man might have bodyguards, you see, and the ploughman won’t, so we’re more likely to bother him because it’s safe. I wouldn’t be here offering my hand to you if you were still a student here, if you had anywhere else to go. But you don’t have anywhere else to go, do you? You don’t have anyone offering you a hand but me. I could use you, and you need a home, though it be a bad home compared to the ones you’ve known, it beats being all alone in the world, don’t you think?”

“Is that what you told yourself when you went back?” asked Sunset. “That it beat being all alone in the world?”

“Yes,” Raven said simply. “That’s what I told myself.”

“And you may be right,” Sunset admitted. “No doubt, the world is a cold place for the lonely, a fact I may discover to be even more true than I thought I knew before. I may be robbed of all my possessions by a pickpocket to rub my face in the fact that my cushy life is over; I may have to fight with orphans over mouldy food from a garbage can. I may descend into such ignominies as I can scarcely imagine but which will be the terror of me. But, though such fates stand before me, I fancy that I am not yet descended to the point where I consider turning bandit. One must have some standards after all.” And goodness knows what Princess Celestia would say if I were to turn brigand. I can scarcely imagine it.

Actually, no, I can imagine it quite well; I just don’t want to.

I fear that her reproach would be less gentle than she has been wont to address me of late. And I would deserve it too.

“And you,” she added, “should be grateful for my refusal.”

Raven smirked. “And why is that? Because in two months you would usurp leadership of the tribe from me and cut off my head?”

Sunset shook her head. “No,” she said. “No, I am not so … I am not minded even to attempt such a thing anymore, and I would probably fail at it if I tried; I was never as good at that sort of thing as I thought I was. No, you should be grateful because … imagine that I joined your tribe, and then imagine the day came when your tribe found itself being opposed by Pyrrha, or Ruby, or my Atlesian friends. In such a circumstance, which side do you think I would be on?”

Raven’s eyebrows rose. “You would still side with them? They have betrayed you, banished you, turned their backs on you, and still, you would take their side?”

“Always,” Sunset said.

Raven was silent for a moment. Then she nodded, the corner of her lips curling upwards into a slight but noticeable smile. “You will find, as you say, that the world is a cold and lonely place,” she declared. “And yet, I cannot help but admire your attitude. I hope the coldness and the loneliness doesn’t wear it away.” She bowed her head, if only ever so slightly. “Since you’re leaving this place, I doubt that I shall see you again, but you have … my thanks, for taking care of Summer’s daughter.”

Sunset could not keep the bitterness out of her voice. “Ruby doesn’t appreciate it very much.” Nor should she, in truth; not according to her lights, at least.

“Maybe not,” Raven said. “But I’m not Ruby, am I? Good luck to you, Sunset Shimmer, wherever the wind takes you.”

She turned away and began to walk off, back straight, her long and wild black hair swaying and bouncing a little behind her as she walked into the darkness and the shadows.

Sunset kept an eye on her for a moment, but she was walking quickly, and Sunset soon lost her in the dark; she would have expected that all of that red she was wearing would have enabled Sunset to track her a little better, at least at first, but she blended so well into the darkness that it was as though she had just disappeared completely.

Not that it mattered; it was as she had said: if she meant Sunset harm, then why spend so much time talking to her beforehand? It made no sense, therefore, the only explanation that made sense was that she meant Sunset no harm.

She had really wanted to extend a hand to Sunset, however strange it might seem.

She really had wanted to offer Sunset a place amongst her bandit tribe.

If that’s the standard of offers that I’m going to get now, I think that’s a pretty good indicator of how far I’ve fallen.

Still, in rejecting it, I have made a decision. I have decided that there are two places where I am not going next: to Equestria, and to a bandit tribe.

Maybe if I stand here 'til morning, I can eliminate my way towards working out where I actually want to go next.

Probably not; morning is too close at hand now.

Where do I go from here?

“Sunset!”

Sunset’s ears pricked up first, then she turned around at the sound of Pyrrha’s voice, slicing through the darkness as smoothly as Miló ever sliced through anything. She turned, and she saw Pyrrha herself coming — not only coming, but running — towards her, her sash flying out behind her as she ran. Amber was with her, following just a step behind, still wearing the dress and cape that she had borrowed from Pyrrha for the carnival, and the borrowed cape, too, trailed out after.

Sunset began to smile at the sight of them, before she remembered that Pyrrha no doubt despised her as much as Ruby did by now, and Amber … it was hard to believe that Amber, gentle Amber of all people, would not feel the same way, unless it was because she did not understand what Sunset had done.

“Pyrrha?” she murmured, wondering why Pyrrha and Amber were here. Her heartbeat quickened a little with anxiety, wondering if Pyrrha had come specifically to tell her what she had not had the chance to tell her in the dorm room. Had Pyrrha decided that she didn’t deserve the chance to slink away quietly?

She hoped it was not that; for Ruby to cast her out was bad enough, but to get the same treatment from Pyrrha…

Sunset felt her hands begin to tremble at the prospect.

Pyrrha, and Amber, came to a stop in front of Sunset. Pyrrha, Sunset saw, had a bag in her hand, a grey Beacon rucksack that she held by the shoulder straps.

Pyrrha’s sash settled down by her side, and Amber’s cape fell down her back.

“Sunset,” Pyrrha murmured.

Sunset swallowed. “Pyrrha,” she said softly.

Pyrrha looked at her for a moment, and then a moment more, moments stretching out in silence, before she let out a little gasp as though she had forgotten something. She hastily held out the rucksack. “You forgot your book. Your journal.”

“My journal!” Sunset cried, seizing the rucksack from out of Pyrrha’s unresisting hands. She opened it up, to find the magic book sitting within, the only thing sitting within, but that one thing was enough. It was quite enough.

Enough to brighten Sunset’s face as she said, “Thank you, Pyrrha, I … I could not bear to leave this behind.”

Though it will enable me to tell Princess Celestia that I have been exposed and disgraced, nevertheless, I am glad to have it with me.

“It’s nothing,” Pyrrha murmured. “Ruby thought that you should have it.”

“Oh, of course she did,” Sunset said. “That … that was very thoughtful of her.” She looked away, turning her eyes towards the ground, unable to meet Pyrrha’s eyes, unable to look upon her face.

Pyrrha, for her part, said nothing more. Sunset could not blame her for that; what was she meant to say? What could she say, now, to the likes of Sunset? What Sunset had done, what Pyrrha now knew that Sunset had done, it raised a wall between them, a wall that no words, however eloquently spoken, could surmount.

“You’re leaving, then?” Amber asked. “You’re really going?”

Sunset swallowed again and ventured to raise her head enough to look on Amber as she replied. “Yes, I am. I doubt that Ruby — or anyone else,” she added, “—wishes my company any longer.”

“That is…” Pyrrha began, but trailed off and did not finish the thought.

“Why should Ruby get to decide that?” Amber demanded. “Who is she, that she should be so cruel? Surely Ozpin—”

“I’m not going to go to Professor Ozpin and ask him to keep me on against Ruby’s will,” Sunset replied. “That would be cruel indeed.”

“But there must be something you can do?” Amber cried. “I mean … Blake’s leaving, isn’t she, she’s going to Atlas? So you could join—”

“I think that Ruby would have as little love for the idea of me joining Team Iron as she would for my remaining a part of Team Sapphire,” Sunset said. “I think … I think that only my departure from Beacon, bag and baggage, will satisfy her, and that alone only because … there is no other punishment that may be inflicted upon me. Anything else would likely drive her from Beacon, and … others besides. I could not do that. I will not do that.”

Amber frowned, accentuating the scars upon her face. “It seems so unfair.”

“'Unfair'?” Sunset repeated. “Hardly. I have deserved worse than this.”

“You saved me,” Amber said. “You saved my life, you brought Dove back to me, and whatever it was that you did … you were only trying to save your friends.”

“And people died because of it,” Sunset said.

“People die all the time,” Amber said. “Death is … it’s all around us, from the trees in the forest, the rabbit killed by the fox, the fox killed by the hunter, the hunter mauled by the bear … there’s so much death that if you wept for all of it. you would run dry as a wrung out cloth before day’s end. So all you can really do is care for the ones you love as best you can. At least, that’s what my mother used to say.”

“A fine thing for a mother to say, but I fear that Ruby feels a huntress should set their sights a little higher,” Sunset murmured. “And she is right.”

“Mmm,” Pyrrha murmured too. “And…”

Sunset did not ask her to finish.

“Pyrrha,” Amber said. “Do you really … are you really going to let this happen? Are you really going to just let Sunset leave, to let Ruby send her away?”

“I wish you would not speak thus, Amber,” Pyrrha said. “As though Ruby were the one in the wrong.”

“She’s sending my friend away; she is in the wrong,” said Amber. “Although…”

Sunset frowned a little. “'Although'?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Amber said quickly, with a shake of her head.

“As you say,” Sunset whispered. She looked at Pyrrha, she forced herself to look at Pyrrha, Pyrrha whom she would soon be parted from, Pyrrha who might hate her now, Pyrrha whom Sunset would loathe to leave behind, and yet … and yet must leave.

She must go.

I may not be a hero, but the heroic theme yet applies it seems. I must go also, unwilling though I am, though it is not to death but only exile that I go. Yet go I must.

But there are things that I must say before I go, however hard it is to say them.

Not things that she wanted to say, things that she had to say, before she left, things about what Cinder had told them, things about what was or might be going on in Vale.

“Pyrrha—”

Pyrrha held up one hand to forestall her. “If I may,” she said ever so softly.

Sunset hesitated for a second. “Of course.”

Pyrrha did not speak immediately. She glanced downwards towards her own feet, then back up again. “I … I do not — I cannot — condone what you did, down in that tunnel,” she said. “I … we are called to the shepherds of the people, to care for them—”

“Does not the shepherd kill the lambs whenever he grows hungry?” Amber asked.

“Ye— that … that isn’t the point,” Pyrrha said quickly. “The point is, Amber, I say this with love, but this is hard enough without interruptions. I know that you wish to defend Sunset in this, although a part of me wishes that you would not defend her in so … lively a fashion, but please, if I may?”

“I’m sorry,” Amber said. “I just—”

“I know,” Pyrrha murmured. “Sunset has your love, and you would not be parted from her after this fashion.” She paused a moment. “I thought to find you here,” she said. “But I did not think to find you without Soteria.”

“I did not think I had the right to take it,” Sunset replied. “It was given to me by Lady Nikos for a purpose, and I can hardly fulfil that purpose now.”

“I see,” Pyrrha said. Again, she took pause a moment. “I cannot approve of what you did, for all that you did it in part for my sake. I am not worth a city, not worth six other lives, no, I am not worth a single life given in sacrifice for my own.”

“I must confess I fear a world without you in it would be a grim, grey, miserable place,” Sunset said.

Pyrrha’s mouth lingered open a second, as her cheeks flushed somewhat. “That,” she said, “is very sweetly said, and yet, for all its sweetness, of very little consequence.” Her brow furrowed beneath her circlet. “I must confess that there have been times when I feared that you were too much of Cinder’s hot blood, and in this respect, I am sad to have been proven right. Is it right that you should be so attached to me, or any other, that you would do such things for our sake?”

“No,” Sunset accepted. “No, it is not, and yet … it is who I am, for good or, yes, for ill. And yet … I would not sound apologetic, I … I should have found another way.”

“And if there was no other way?” Pyrrha asked.

“I would have found one,” Sunset insisted. “Had I but thought to look and not let the situation overbear my wits.”

“And if you had sought, and found another way not?” Pyrrha pressed. “What then?”

“What then indeed,” Sunset replied. “What then, Pyrrha? Would you have had us make a glorious last stand, worthy of remembrance?”

“The time may come when that is all that we may do,” said Pyrrha. “And we should not fear that moment so much that we will dishonour ourselves and do deeds black as this night to avoid it.” She closed her eyes. “And yet…” She opened her eyes once more. “Have you considered that, if you were to wait, Ruby might—?”

“No,” Sunset said. “No, she will not; you know that she will not, not in this.” She hesitated. “And … and you?”

"And I," Pyrrha began, "I … regret that we must part thus. Greatly, I confess, do I regret it, for all I understand why it must, and even should, be so. Yet greatly do I regret it, for you … for you have my love yet."

Sunset's eyes widened, even though a part of her felt they should have narrowed as before unexpectedly blinding sunlight yet still they widened in amazement nonetheless. "I … I have … even still?"

"Always, I think," Pyrrha answered. "If my heart be constant, and though it be fault in me or glory, it is a constant heart, or seems so."

Sunset felt her whole body tremble, as though a sudden weakness had come over her, as though it had been too long since she had eaten and the lack of sugar was catching up with her. "Pyrrha…" She wiped at her eye with one hand. "I do not deserve this."

"I could dispute that, I think, with all that you have done and all that we have been through together. But it matters not, for I offer this not from your deserving," Pyrrha said. "Rather I offer this from … from my constant heart only, only. Your deeds do not erase what we have shared." She paused a moment. "I … where will you go?"

"In truth," Sunset admitted, "I know not."

"You will not go … home, then?" asked Pyrrha.

"No," said Sunset at once. "No, I will not go home. I will not … I will not."

Pyrrha nodded. "Then … see my mother. She will be able to aid you, I have no doubt."

"She may," Sunset allowed. "But would she? I—"

"Have done little, I would suggest, that Mother would greatly disapprove of," Pyrrha said. "You will have her love yet also, or I guess false. And take Soteria with you; it is for my Mother to ask for it back, not for you to forsake the gift. You insult my mother else."

"Well, I should not wish to insult my lady; that would be unforgivable," Sunset muttered.

Pyrrha looked for a moment as though she might smile, for all that she had tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "I … I would have followed you," she said. "To whatever end, or the end of all things, I would have followed."

Sunset let out a little laugh. "I never wished to lead you to any end; that was my fault."

"And yet your virtue too," Pyrrha said. "And I would have followed nonetheless."

Sunset closed her eyes, even as she wiped at her face with one sleeve. "Pyrrha," she muttered. "Sweet words make a hard parting indeed." She frowned. "You must be on your guard. What Cinder said—"

"You cannot believe what Cinder said," Pyrrha answered, with a glance at Amber.

"Not entirely, no," Sunset allowed, "but I believe in the Siren in Vale, and I am willing to accept that Cinder may not have been Salem's only weapon here. Be on your guard, both of you, please, I beg of you."

"Of course," Pyrrha said. "I suppose we should consider the possibility. What of this Siren?"

"I hope Professor Ozpin will start to search for her," Sunset said. "If he does not, prod him about it." She looked at Amber. "Since I probably won't see you again, I can offend you by asking you to look like a friend upon Professor Ozpin; he is no just target for your rancour."

Amber hesitated a moment. "I … I'll think about it."

“Please, do,” Sunset begged. “For my sake, if no other. But, whether you take my advice on that or no … I wish you good fortune, wherever your road or … your road or Professor Ozpin’s decisions take you. I wish you every happiness with Dove, especially. Love is … love is a thing that should endure.”

“I know it is, and I hope it will,” Amber said. “Thank you, Sunset, I … I would wish you luck too, but I do not know your plans.”

“Neither do I,” Sunset said. “So … just wish me luck generally.”

Amber smiled. “Alright. Good luck, Sunset. Wherever and whatever.”

Sunset nodded before she returned her attention back to Pyrrha. What could she say to her? She felt free now to say something, as free as Pyrrha had been with her own feelings, but what? What could she say to encompass all that she felt?

"I should have liked to have led you, also," Sunset said. "I am sorry that I have let you down thus."

"Don't," Pyrrha whispered. "Don't … not now. Speak—"

"Only good things?" Sunset asked. "Are we not beyond that?"

"Unfortunately, yes, but even so," Pyrrha said. "Is this not a sad moment enough without our dwelling in sorrow here at the end? I … I wish you good fortune in all your endeavours."

"And I wish you every happiness," said Sunset. "I … you may not like this, but when you and Jaune are wed, I expect full coverage in all the magazines. I would see the gown that I will not see in person."

"Very well," Pyrrha said. "I will endure it, for your sake."

"Thank you," Sunset said. She paused a moment.

"In … in Equestria," she went on, "to bear the title of princess denotes not blood but … something of accomplishment, grace, virtue, worthy of the highest admiration." She took a breath. "You, too, are my princess."

Pyrrha was silent a moment, eyes fixed on Sunset, saying nothing.

Then she pulled Sunset into an embrace, one hand around her waist, drawing her in, holding her close, the other upon the back of Sunset's head, Pyrrha's fingers amongst Sunset's hair as she pressed Sunset's head against her cheek.

Sunset could feel that cheek against her temple, feel Pyrrha's arm about her waist, feel the warmth of her embrace. It was not something that she wished to leave.

"I will miss you," Pyrrha said, her voice trembling. "I will miss you terribly. Friend of my soul."

Sunset said nothing. She simply lingered in Pyrrha’s embrace. She did not even embrace Pyrrha in turn, her hands were holding onto the Beacon rucksack, and her arms were pinned in place by Pyrrha; she was like a child, receiving comfort without giving in return, being hugged without hugging back. And she lingered thus, feeling Pyrrha’s strong arms, her gentle hands, her face on Sunset’s head.

Tears welled up in Sunset’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I ruined everything, and I’m so sorry.”

“No more, Sunset, no more of that,” Pyrrha whispered. “Say only that you will miss me too, and nothing more.”

Sunset sniffed. “Need it be said?”

Pyrrha chuckled. “No,” she said. “No, I suppose not.” She released Sunset from her embrace — Sunset would not have minded if it had continued on a little longer — but kept her hands on Sunset’s shoulders even as she stepped away.

“This has been…” she trailed off.

“Yes,” Sunset agreed. “Yes, it has, hasn’t it?”

“So where are you going to go?” asked Amber. “To see Pyrrha’s mother?”

“Not now,” Sunset replied. “It is late, and doubtless, my lady is abed; no, tonight I will … I will…”

A single urgent, but not continual, buzz from Sunset’s scroll informed her that she had a message.

How fortuitous.

Pyrrha let her arms fall from Sunset’s shoulders as Sunset slung the backpack with her journal in across one shoulder and got out her scroll.

“It appears,” she said, “that I am going to see Skystar Aris. At least, she has asked to see me.”

Pyrrha’s brow furrowed. “Perhaps … I am not sure why.”

“Neither am I,” Sunset admitted. “This business puts her in the spotlight as much as me, and her mother and Councillor Emerald are … but I am not sure what she would want to say to me.” She paused. “Still, I suppose I will find out soon enough when I go and see her.” She straightened her back and wiped her eyes with one-gloved hand. “Fare you well, Pyrrha Nikos.”

Pyrrha bowed her head. “Fare you well, Sunset Shimmer.”

Comments

[Stet709]

Well... that visit from Raven I was not expecting. Though I'm glad Sunset didn't take her offer. Banditry does not suit Sunset at all.
Amber was still tight-lipped about confessing. I was hoping Pyrrha confessing her still existent love would give Amber second thoughts on her second thoughts, but with Pyrrha not disagreeing with Ruby, Amber is staying quiet.

Also the hesitation in Raven's dialogue when she mentions Sunset's "gifts" makes me wonder if she can pick it out as magic as Taiyang surmised in the original after the Fall of Beacon

[XxLadyGameliaxX]

Damn, this added chapter for the rewrite is making me feel more bad for Sunset than the original. It's like I understand both Pyrrha and surprisingly Amber (even though she a HUGE hypocrite) where they're coming from in regards to Sunset's decision. It would be hard for me if I was in that situation, on one hand I would be like "fuck everyone, they're all strangers to me" but in the other, they're innocent people who have lives just like me. It's like pulling my heartstrings side to side with the morality of this situation, but that doesn't mean I don't like it! Also screw Ruby and her so called "huntress code" she has going on, someone really needs to bring her back to reality from her fairytale.

[Mastermind4892]

Bucking liquid pride...

[AdverseFlower95]

What a great send off chapter. The scene with Raven was great, and the scene with Pyrrha was great.

[Alysion]

Honnestly, for me it is one of the most emotional and touching chapter I read in this strory. Original included. Bravo.

Also, isn't the dark regalia still under Sunset bed ?

[Kiue Jin]

I feel like Rainbow is currently having a tortured moment. Her desire to be loyal to Sunset conflicting with the conflict that would arise from revealing the truth.

That being said, I feel like the sentence "The burden of leadership is trying to bring the team home, alive and well. The fact that you don't understand that on any level is why Sunset was made the team leader and not you, Ruby!" would gut punch Ruby a lot harder then she would realize.

[Mastermind4892]

11736258
I have a feeling that something of the sort will come up when Ruby confronts Ozpin. She'll want to know why Sunset was chosen as team leader, and why she was allowed to remain as team leader after he found out.

Fearlessness makes for great heroes... but makes for poor leaders.

[Szalhi]

This is so wonderfully dramatic for something we all know isn't going to last too long.

[Dark one]

This chapter really makes me wonder how hard Ruby will be hit by reality in the next few chapters. Especially after she hears how Amber sided with Salem all because of her.

[Stet709]

11736258
Indeed, Sunset not only had the responsibility of a huntress(-in-training), but as a leader. And for Sunset, especially with her attachments, her responsibilities conflicted in her eyes it seems.

[Stet709]

11736273
Given that a lot of that was covered in Sunset and Ozpin's conversation on the cliffs, I feel, if that does happen, Oz will give similar answers.

[Luviere]

Fucking Rwby, man. God she is so insufferable. She did my girl dirty like that. But i love this chapter. I'm sure Sunset will be back in the team sooner or later.