• Published 31st Aug 2018
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SAPR - Scipio Smith



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

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The Last Respite (New)

The Last Respite

"Yes!" Terra cried, not only jumping up herself but sweeping Adrian up in her arms, bouncing him up and down, up and down. "Yes! She did it! She's a finalist!" She beamed at her son as she lifted him up and down like he was bouncing on a spring or being borne upon the waves like a ship. "Auntie Pyrrha's going to be in the finals of the Vytal Tournament. Yes, she is! Yes, she is!"

"'Auntie Pyrrha'?" Saphron asked, a smile threatening to break out on her face.

"I know, I know, you can call me out on that all you want later," Terra said. "But for now … if I admit that you were right and she and Jaune really are going to go all the way — probably — then will you let that slide? Because they probably are going to go all the way. Just like Pyrrha's going to go all the way in this tournament. Isn't she?" she asked Adrian, wrinkling her nose at him. "Isn't she?"

"Pi-aa!" Adrian cried, gesturing with both arms in the direction of Terra's face.

"Yes," Terra cooed. "Yes, that's right, Pyrrha! Pyrrha's going to win the tournament for all of us!" She started to dance up and down the living room, twirling Adrian around in her arms as he kicked his feet and waved his arms and gurgled happily.

"It's coming home, it's coming home," Terra sang softly.

"It's coming — Vytal's coming home!

It's coming home, it's coming home."

Saphron laughed. "Someone's in a very good mood."

"I have waited my whole life for this," Terra explained as she stopped dancing — Adrian made a noise of disappointment — to look at Saphron. "My mom was a child the last time that Mistral won the Vytal Tournament—"

"Mistral or Haven?" Saphron asked. "Because, you know, Haven still won't have—"

"That doesn't matter," Terra declared. "For some Mistral-born Beacon students, or Atlas students, or whatever, then sure, that would make a difference, but Pyrrha is Pyrrha Nikos, let me remind you, of the blood Imperial; her ancestors built this realm, and there's nothing more Mistralian than that. Her triumphs are Mistral's triumphs, It cannot be otherwise. When she wins—"

"You all win?" Saphron suggested.

"We all win; you're married to a Mistralian; this is your triumph too," Terra pointed out.

"Cable doesn't seem to see all this as his triumph," Saphron said.

"Well, Dad…" Terra trailed off. "Anyway, I'd like to say that you're right: when Pyrrha wins, we all win, and for many in Mistral, it will be true. The streets will ring out with celebration; people from here to Mistral and south to Thrace will rejoice and party and forget all their worries, cares, and troubles for a day or two. And the Steward will proclaim a public holiday. But … not everyone will celebrate."

Saphron got up off the floor. "You mean like the people who slandered Pyrrha and Sunset?"

Terra bit her lip as she sought for the best way of explaining it to her wife. "You know that, in Mistral, the fighting tournaments were originally only open to those of noble birth?"

"No," Saphron said. "No, I didn't know that."

Terra nodded. "The first commoner to ever win the games hid his face behind the mask of a red lion." She looked at Adrian. "Yes, a lion: grrrrr, grrrrrr!" she snarled in his face, making claws with the fingers of one hand. Adrian laughed.

Terra went on. "It was only after he'd won and become the Champion of Mistral that he took the mask off and revealed that he was only a butcher's son."

"What's your point?"

"My point is that, in Mistral, the elite, the well-born, the well-to-do, joined by a few talented outsiders who can claw their way in on the basis of their skill, are expected to excel, and the rest of us are expected to watch and admire their accomplishments," Terra said. "And we do. And we will, when Pyrrha wins and brings the laurels home. But for those who are expected to excel in their turn—"

"Jealousy," Saphron said.

"Precisely," replied Terra. "There will be some, even more than there are now, who will want to bring her down."

Saphron's brow furrowed. "But she knows that, right? She has to know that; I mean, that's her world, more than it is yours. You're just … a spectator; you can see it all the way from here, she has to know it, having grown up in it, right?"

"Oh, I'm sure," Terra said. "I think…"

"You think what?"

"It's nothing."

"No, go on, what?"

"I think," Terra began again, "I think that might be one of the things that drew her to Jaune, you know? An outsider, someone who wouldn't be jealous, who wouldn't feel like they were being outshone by her."

"Even if they were."

"You said that, not me."

Saphron chuckled. "I don't think Jaune would have any trouble admitting that Pyrrha outshines him. He might even like it that way." She paused. "Of course, all of this depends on Pyrrha winning. What if she doesn't bring it home?"

"I refuse to even entertain that possibility," Terra declared. "Pyrrha's come too far now only to fall at the last hurdle. She won't let us down that way. Pyrrha is going to win, and then … and then she'll handle whatever comes next; I'm sure she will." She smiled at Saphron. "With Jaune by her side." She started to dance once again. "It's coming home, it's coming home."

On the kitchen counter, Terra's scroll began to play a Countess Coloratura song.

"Would you get that for me?" Terra asked.

"Yeah, sure," Saphron said. She walked past Terra and Adrian, giving their son a little pat on the head as she passed him, crossing the living room into the kitchen to pick up Terra's scroll. She opened it up and answered it. "Hello?"

"Oh, hello, Saffy, darling!" the voice of Sif Cotta emerged out of the scroll. "Is Terra around?"

Saphron smiled as she held up the scroll so that Terra's mother could see her — and Terra could see her mother's face in the scroll. "She was just celebrating with Adrian."

"I don't blame you; isn't it marvellous?!" Sif cried. Terra's mother came from northern Argive stock, the old northerners who had settled Argus before the Kingdom of Mantle was ever thought of, with pale features and blonde hair starting to turn grey with the years and blue eyes with lines starting to show underneath them. She was starting to spread out, looking a little more plump than she looked in some old family photos, but in a way that lent her an air of warmth and cosiness.

"To think," she said, "that Mistral will have a champion again! That I should live to see the day! And Adrian will never know anything else! He won't have to grow up in a loser kingdom that never wins at the sport that we invented! Oh, she's done us proud, Pyrrha Nikos, to be sure."

"She hasn't won the title yet," Saphron reminded.

"Oh but she will, she will!" cried Sif. "Have some faith, Saffy, have some faith. Yes, she's done us very proud." She sighed. "If only she was dating some nice Mistralian boy, instead of—"

"Ahem," Saphron interrupted.

Sif looked up, as though she could see Saphron through the back of the scroll somehow. "What was that? Did Saphron just say something?"

Saphron raised her eyebrows and gestured down at the scroll with her head.

Terra winced. "Mom," she began, "there … there's something that I need to tell you."

"Tell me?" Sif repeated. "Tell me what? Why are you being so serious all of a sudden?"

"Well, because Pyrrha," Terra said. She hesitated for a second. "Pyrrha Nikos is … Pyrrha's boyfriend…"

"What are you dancing around for?" Sif demanded.

"Because Pyrrha is dating my brother-in-law!" Terra cried.

There was a moment of silence, followed by a scream from Sif that was so loud it made Saphron drop the scroll.


"That," River declared. "Was seriously impressive."

"That was amazing," Chester added. "It was like she could see the other girl even though she was blindfolded."

"Not that I ever had any doubts at all," Sky said, "but yeah, that was … how did she do that?"

The Arc girls — and Chester, but not including Aoko, whose attention remained fixed upon her laptop — looked at their father.

"What are you all looking at me like that for?" demanded Gold.

"You're the huntsman, Dad," Kendal said. "Tell us the trick."

"You think I know how she did that?" Dad asked. "I don't know, at least not for sure. I mean, I can think of a couple of ways … maybe it's her semblance. Did she ever tell anyone what her semblance was?"

"Not me," Kendal said.

"Nor I," added Rouge.

"Or any of us, I think," Sky said.

"Nobody knows what Pyrrha's semblance is; it's a topic of hot online speculation," murmured Aoko.

"Nobody in public, you mean, Aoko," Rouge said. "I expect Jaune knows, and her other friends."

"Maybe it's some kind of location finding," Dad said. "Third eye, echo-location, sonar … I don't know, you get some weird semblances out there, like freezing people with a look; maybe Pyrrha has one that lets her find people without seeing them. Or, I did know some people who attuned their aura so that they could sense the presence of enemies that they couldn't see; that way, they never got ambushed."

"Sounds like a useful trick," Sky observed. "Why doesn't everyone do that?"

"It's difficult," Dad said. "You have to be the right kind of person for it to come naturally to you, and if it doesn't come naturally to you, then, like I said, it's a lot of hard work, and most people don't find it’s worth it."

"Not worth it not to get ambushed?" Kendal said.

"What kind of person are we talking about, Dad?" asked Violet. “The kind it comes naturally too, I mean?”

"Calm," Dad said. "Very calm, mellow, not a lot of emotion."

"That doesn't sound like Pyrrha," Sky said.

"No, she's got too much emotion," added Kendal.

"Then it must be her semblance," said Gold. "Somehow."

"I guess the important thing is that she won, right?" asked Sky. "She won, and it's only that little Schnee girl that stands between her and winning the whole thing."

"That is the important thing," River conceded. "But it's also really cool that she was able to kick that other girl's butt without even being able to see her."


By the time that the central hexagon, the platform on which Pyrrha had fought with Umber, lowered to recover Umber from the bottom of the pit, she was on her feet. Pyrrha did not approach her; that might have been said to be rude, but Pyrrha could not help but recall the dismissive manner in which Umber had treated Yang after her victory, and that Umber was owed at least a little of the same treatment in kind.

The Shade student's head was bowed; she had one hand upon the silver armband that she wore on her right arm — the right, not the left as was customary with Mistralian honour bands — holding it as if to remind herself that it was still there as she made her way onto the central hexagon.

Having waited for her, Pyrrha decided that Umber had endured enough ill grace from her opponent, and approached, offering her hand.

Umber glanced at it, then turned away. "I did not take the hand of Yang Xiao Long when I defeated her," she reminded Pyrrha. "I will not be such a hypocrite as to take your hand now that you have defeated me."

"It will cost you nothing," Pyrrha pointed out.

"Nothing but a degree of self-respect," Umber replied.

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment before lowering her hand down to her side. "I see," she said softly, so softly that Umber might well not have been able to hear her, her words snatched away by the cheering of the crowds.

Umber herself was silent for a moment, or else the cheering and the shouting and the singing smothered her words also and left Pyrrha unable to hear them. Yet, as the central hexagon began to rise once more, Umber did speak. "You fought well."

"Thank you," Pyrrha said. "As did you."

"Not well enough, clearly," Umber said pointedly. "If I may ask: how?"

"I … would you mind if I kept that to myself?" Pyrrha responded.

Umber let out a sort of cackling laugh. "No, indeed. Keep your secret, Pyrrha Nikos, and may you have joy of it."

She fell silent, and Pyrrha said nothing more either, the both of them standing there as the central hexagon rose, and the rest of the arena emerged one more out of the sides of the Colosseum to link the platform where they stood with the wider floor so that they could each escape the battlefield if they wished.

Umber did not move. As the hexagon completed its journey, as the floor returned, she stood silently, listening to the crowd.

"So many jokes, so many sneers," she said, echoing the lyrics of the song being sung so much louder from the stands. "But all those 'oh so near's wear you down, through the years." She looked at Pyrrha over her shoulder. "I despise the preening Mistralian elite, and I daresay I always will, but your kind are not the whole, or even the majority of Mistral. And, as Queenie reminds us, it's all for the people, in the end. Perhaps … perhaps the people of Mistral have suffered enough."

Pyrrha said nothing. Is … is she wishing me luck?

Umber smiled, or perhaps it might have been a smirk, before she turned her head away from Pyrrha and walked off, through the other corridor to the one that she and Pyrrha had emerged from, the one which Pyrrha had intended to return through.

Thank you, I think, Pyrrha thought.

"And that concludes our semifinals!" Doctor Oobleck announced. "Once again, we will take a break to allow our two finalists to recover some of their aura, and then we will return for the final match as Pyrrha Nikos and Weiss Schnee compete for the crown and the title of champion at this, the Fortieth Vytal Festival!"

The cheering became so loud that Pyrrha felt obliged to bow to the crowd, bowing her waist first to the east — facing towards Mistral — and then to the north, the west, and finally the south. With each bow she took, the crowd only got louder; Pyrrha wondered where they were getting all the air from, never mind the energy.

But, that question aside, it was a glad sound, a joyous sound. Joyous cheers and joyous singing. Professor Ozpin had told them, in the SAPR dorm room that morning, that the best thing they could do — she and Yang and Rainbow Dash by implication also — was to keep the people happy, to distract them from the cudgel of a grimm assault that loomed overhead, to distract them from all their worries and their troubles and their dangers known or unknown. To do what the Vytal Festival was intended to do and bring people together.

That was her mission for the day, until or unless the grimm actually attacked or Salem's agents did, and so far, Pyrrha would say that she was succeeding at it. Yes, judging from the noise of the crowd, she was doing rather well.

The fact that she could fulfil that mission whilst also pleasing herself was … rather nice.

Nice enough to put a smile upon her face as she made her way to the opposite tunnel to that chosen by Umber, the same tunnel through which she had entered at the start of the match.

Jaune and Penny were waiting for her, and so were Yang and Arslan. It was Yang who was closest to her and Yang who stepped up first.

"Thank you, Pyrrha," she said. "I really did not want to see her in the final. And not just because she might have won." She held up one hand. "Thanks for giving her a taste of her own medicine."

Pyrrha looked at Yang's hand, held up at the level of her head. "Um, I—"

"You slap it," Yang explained, her grin widening.

"Ah, yes, of course," Pyrrha said and drew back her own hand before slamming it, palm first, into Yang's raised-up hand.

Yang's hair became a little paler. "Okay, that … great job, Pyrrha." She took a step backwards.

Arslan stepped away from the wall to stand directly in front of Pyrrha, astride her path. "Congratulations," she said.

Pyrrha half-bowed her head. "Thank you."

Arslan jabbed her finger at Pyrrha. "You cannot mess this up now!" she declared. "You've come this far; the last thing that we need — that Mistral needs — is another Terri-Belle where you go all the way only to cut yourself in the last fight."

"Lady Terri-Belle fought bravely," Pyrrha murmured.

"She might have fought bravely, but she didn't fight well enough, did she?" Arslan replied. "I'm serious, P-money. This is serious. And don't come at me with any 'oh, it's only a tournament, it's not real life, it doesn't really matter' stuff; I know that there are important things out in the world, I know that some of them are more important than tournaments, that's why I'm retiring too so I can be as stupid as you are and become a huntress, gods help me, but this tournament matters, okay, what you do next matters. There are a lot of people back home who don't have a lot of reasons to be cheerful: people who couldn't afford to come here and cheer you on in person, people who struggle to feed their kids, people who can see that their kingdom is fraying at the edges and nobody has a plan to do anything about it."

"And how is Pyrrha supposed to help with any of that?" Penny asked. "Her winning the final — although it would be wonderful, and I really hope you do it, Pyrrha — won't solve any of those problems."

"No, it won't," Arslan admitted. "But I'm not sure that anyone can solve all of those problems, or at least nobody on the Council or running to be on the Council seems to have a clue how to solve all those problems. But what Pyrrha can do — what Pyrrha has to do and what Pyrrha has been doing up until now, I should say — is give people something to smile about. Give people a reason to forget their problems for just a little while, give them a day off work! Show everyone that Mistral is still … and before you say anything about the values of the Vytal Festival, fine, but peace and goodwill is one thing; it's another thing to say that we can't have our pride, especially since it's been a while since we had something to be proud of. And let's not pretend that you and Schnee both being Beacon students matters; this is Mistral versus Atlas, and we all know it, just like we know that they look down on us for our old-fashioned ways like we're backwards."

"When you live in the clouds, it's impossible not to look down on the people below," Penny said.

Arslan turned her head in Penny's direction. "I can't tell if you're agreeing with me or not."

"I … I think you're being harsh," Penny said. "But I also think you're not wrong."

Arslan looked back to Pyrrha. "You have to show that Mistral still counts for something. You have to give us a reason to put our tails up, in spite of all our problems, even if it's only for a little while."

"You pile a grave weight upon my shoulders," Pyrrha murmured.

Arslan's eyes widened. "Don't tell me you can't handle the pressure?"

"Fortune will as fortune wishes, but I have no intention of letting Mistral, or myself, down," Pyrrha declared.

Arslan nodded. "Glad to hear it. So, what's your strategy against Schnee?"

Pyrrha paused for a moment. "Weiss, I expect to keep me at a distance; if I can close the range with her, then I should be able to prevail."

"That's an expectation, not a strategy," Arslan pointed out.

"Yes," Pyrrha murmured. "I…" She looked over Arslan's head at Jaune.

"That…" Jaune said, cupping his chin with one hand. "That's a tough one."

Arslan rolled her eyes. "Oh, well, this is very reassuring to hear, let me tell you! Come on, you've got to have something! Which of you came up with the blindfold trick just now?"

"I did," Pyrrha said. "Which reminds me, I should give this back to you, shouldn't I?" She held out Jaune's sash. "It was very helpful."

"Yes, I could see you putting it to good use," Jaune said. "Thanks for giving it back, but would you mind holding onto it for just a second longer?"

"Of course," Pyrrha said as Jaune unbuckled his belt.

"That was impressive," Arslan said. "You blindfolding yourself, I mean, not giving him his sash back. I take it you used your semblance to sense where Umber was through her armour?"

"Yes, that was it exactly."

"Your semblance lets you sense metal?" Yang asked.

Arslan looked over her shoulder at Yang. "I'd forgotten you were there," she said.

Yang waved. "Hi."

"Hello," Arslan said flatly, waving back. She turned her attention back to Pyrrha. "She didn't know, did she?"

"No," Pyrrha murmured. She raised her voice just a tad to say, "My semblance is Polarity — magnetism, except that it isn't restricted solely to magnetic metals but to all kinds. To answer you, Arslan, I wasn't sure myself that it would work; I just couldn't think of any better ideas."

Yang frowned. "How come you keep your semblance so quiet?"

"Habit," Pyrrha admitted. "It's my secret weapon on the tournament circuit, and in battle, which is why I would prefer to keep it a secret even once I leave the tournament circuit, if I can."

Yang shrugged. "Makes sense. No point keeping it a secret from your tournament opponents but let the real bad guys know what you're capable of, huh? Your secret's safe with me."

"Much obliged."

"Anyway, as I said, that was impressive," Arslan repeated. "So you can't tell me that you can come up with that and not come up with anything for your next match."

Jaune reached around Arslan's head to pluck his sash from Pyrrha's unprotesting hand. "You know," he said as he tied it back around his waist. "I'm not so sure that Weiss will try to keep you at a distance. I know that she could, her semblance has the ability to do it, and it might even be to her advantage, given that you're much more of a close range fighter than you are even medium range, but if you look at what Weiss actually does in fights, that's not how she operates. Sure, she's got that attack with her laser glyphs, but that never really works very well, and she doesn't rely on it either."

"Maybe it doesn't work very well because she doesn't use it that much," suggested Penny.

"Possibly," Jaune said. "But the why doesn't really matter so much as the fact that Weiss seems to like to close just as much as Pyrrha does; she likes to hit fast, even if she doesn't hit very hard."

"That … is not how she fought against Neon," Pyrrha pointed out.

"Neon was a lot faster than you are, too fast for Weiss," Jaune said. "But look at the way that she went after Rainbow Dash; we didn't see it exactly, but I think she closed in with her. And Weiss will be faster than you in the next match; she might not be as quick on her feet, but her glyphs will make her faster. I think she'll use that, or try to."

"I," Yang said, "am not sure that I should be helping you at all, or even listening to this, because Weiss is also a Beacon student, after all, so I am gonna leave you guys to it and just say, one last time, thanks for avenging me, Pyrrha."

Pyrrha smiled. "Have a good day, Yang."

"You…" Yang didn't finish the sentence; she just backed away, out of the corridor and out of sight; eventually, she was out of sound as well, the echoes of her footfalls on the metal floor dying down.

Pyrrha looked back to Jaune. "You think that Weiss will attack?"

Jaune nodded. "That would be my bet."

Jaune had a point; Weiss was every bit as capable of going on the offensive as she was of hanging back, and she could use her glyphs to outrun and outmanoeuvre Pyrrha. He was also correct to say that Weiss’ most impressive-looking ranged attack had not served her particularly well on the occasions when she had used it. If Weiss did as Jaune suggested, then that would help Pyrrha; she could use a deft touch of Polarity on Weiss' rapier to cause Weiss to aim her glyphs in the wrong place and then take advantage of that.

But Weiss also had the capability to adopt a defensive strategy, even if she hadn't always used it. Pyrrha, by contrast, did not have that luxury by training or equipment.

"The one thing that I cannot do is stand still," Pyrrha said. "If I do not keep moving, then Weiss will trap me in her black glyphs, or at least, I invite her to do so, and unlike Neon, I am not confident in my ability to brute force my way past them. I was not taught to use my aura that way."

"You have," Arslan pointed out. "You did it against me, with your shield."

"Weiss wouldn't give me the room to move my arms so much," Pyrrha pointed out. "And I'm not sure that I could cause it to simply explode out of me in all directions. I would prefer to avoid being caged, if at all possible, and the best way—"

"Is to never stay in one place long enough for Weiss' glyphs to catch up with you," Jaune said. "Yeah, I think you're right about that." He paused. "You could use your semblance to guide your weapons in from a distance, around Weiss' defences."

"Ooh, like Sunset did with Soteria in her duel!" Penny cried.

"That might make my semblance even more obvious, so I may make that a last resort," Pyrrha said gently. "Throwing my shield is one thing — most people think its aerodynamics are simply that good — but using my semblance to manipulate my sword in the air as easily as if it was my hand is something else. That said, Jaune, you are right about the shield; it does give me an option to hit Weiss from far off, if I can't get close to her."

"But you'd prefer to close in, right?" Jaune asked. "Use your semblance to make her miss you with her glyphs and then … take her out, I guess."

"You read my mind," Pyrrha said, smiling.

"What if you lured her in, instead?" Jaune suggested. "Let her come at you, skating towards you on a line of her white glyphs, then you disrupt the flow of those glyphs, the line is broken, she falls down and is at your mercy?"

"That … might be more likely to catch Weiss by surprise," Pyrrha said. "Of course, all of this relies on my ability to alter her aim."


"The bottom line," Russel said, as he folded his arms, "is that you can fly, and she can't."

Weiss settled back in her seat somewhat. She rested her fingertips upon her knee. "Except I can't fly," she pointed out.

"You can float, then; it's basically the same thing!" Russel declared. "You can float, she can't, and the rules say that you have to hit the ground in order for it to count as a knockout, so once the battle starts, you need to get off the platform, float in the air as far away as you can, and shoot laser beams at her. She won't be able to do a thing about it."

Seated beside him, Cardin snorted.

Russel looked up at him. "What?"

"That's a very optimistic assumption, don't you think?" Cardin asked him. "If Weiss tried that, then Pyrrha would just leap off the edge of the platform, using her shield as a stepping stone — there's something going on with that — cross the rest of the distance to Weiss before she could get out of the way, grab her by the ears, and piledrive her into the ground while turning over and over in the air and probably singing that damn Mistralian song they keep filling our ears with while she was at it!"

Weiss raised her eyebrows.

"Oh, come on," Cardin said. "I can't be the only one who's noticed that she showboats like a champ when she gets the chance. All those flips and twirls."

"Well, she is, as you put, a champ, so I suppose that gives her the right to showboat," Weiss said mildly. "As does her skill, for that matter. She flips and twirls to show that she can, because no one has the skill to take advantage of her excess movements. And she is a performance artist, after all, so she has cause. It would be like complaining that I sang at a concert: of course I did; it's what I'm there to do. At the end of the day, we're all here to put on a show for the crowds."

"Even if they hate you," Russel said.

"The crowd doesn't hate Weiss," Flash said. "Not anymore. She's won them over." He paused. "As for what you should do about facing Pyrrha … Russel and Cardin are both right: keeping your distance is the right approach, but don't get complacent about Pyrrha's inability to reach you regardless. I'm not sure there's anywhere you could go that would be completely out of her reach."

"She can't jump that high," Russel said. "Or that far."

"That's not the only problem with your idea," Cardin pointed out. "There's also the fact that Weiss' lasers…" He trailed off. "No offence, but they don't actually work very well."

Weiss' eyes narrowed. "I might have to take at least some offence," she murmured.

"Come on!" Cardin cried. "You've got lots of moves in your semblance, but that isn't one of the best. You hit Neon with a whole barrage in your first fight, and she was still up and at 'em when you were done. And you'd be as vulnerable to Pyrrha's shield as you were to Neon throwing her nunchucks at you. It's a bad idea, no matter what these two say."

"So what should she do instead?" demanded Russel. "Close in and get smacked around? Get grabbed by the ponytail and hammer-tossed into the floor?"

"Weiss can be faster with her semblance than Pyrrha is; she can cut her aura apart a little piece at a time, rushing it, hitting her, rushing back out before she gets caught," Cardin suggested. "Hit and run."

"Not a tactic I would have expected you to suggest," Weiss admitted.

"I wouldn't suggest it for me — I'm too big and slow for it — but for you, it'll work perfectly," Cardin insisted. "Just don't fall into a routine that Pyrrha can see coming, and you'll be home free, easy victory."

"I'm not sure there's any such thing as an easy victory in the finals of the Vytal Tournament," Flash said.

"This will be, so long as Weiss takes my advice," Cardin declared.

Weiss tapped her fingertips upon her knee. "You offer two possible routes I could go down," she murmured. "I admit that, while I'm not sure how much it would do to impact the outcome of the match — I can't see myself defeating Pyrrha with it — I would … I would really like it — it would delight me more than almost anything — if I were to unlock summoning during this battle, where everyone can see it."

"'Summoning'?" Flash asked.

"It's the final and most prestigious part of the Schnee semblance," Weiss began to explain.

"There's more?" Russel exclaimed. "Because all the stuff you can do already wasn't ridiculous enough?"

"Apparently not," Weiss replied in a dry tone. "Summoning is, well, it's as the name suggests; I would summon the … shade, the after-echo, a construct of aura based upon something — a grimm, of some sort — that I've killed, to fight for me."

"How does that relate to all the stuff your semblance already does?" asked Cardin.

"It's summoned via a glyph," Weiss said. "But one that I have yet to be able to master."

"It does sound cool," admitted Russel. "You get all the best powers."

"But since you can't actually use it, maybe it's best if you don't rely on it," Cardin suggested.

"I'm not sure that you should rely too much on the idea that you can be faster than Pyrrha, either," Flash added.

Cardin scowled. "Do you have any ideas of your own, or are you just going to pick at and criticise ours?"

Flash clasped his hands together over his knees. "I think … I think that Weiss needs to try and pin Pyrrha down, keep her in one place and … try and force a ring-out? But Weiss, you know your own semblance and what it's capable of better than any of the three of us; what do you think?"

Weiss did not reply for a while. Her fingers drummed upon her knee, over and over, a repetitive motion beating a silent tattoo upon her skin. I am facing Pyrrha Nikos, the Invincible Girl. I should not delude myself into thinking that this will be easy, that there is some stratagem that will sweep me to victory with barely a breath of effort.

But, as Pyrrha reminded me earlier today, the upstart hare may beat the tortoise.

Not that Pyrrha is a tortoise. And it has been a while since anyone thought of a Schnee as an upstart. But my name is a good deal less old than hers is, and I am faster than her if I use my glyphs.

This will not be easy, but I refuse to accept that it is impossible. And I daresay — I dare to hope — that Pyrrha is as filled with trepidation at the thought of facing me as I am at the prospect of our match.

This will not be easy, but there are things that I can do.

"I feel like you've all given me one piece of a strategy," Weiss said. "And that it's up to me to put those pieces together into a coherent whole, because the truth is that you're all right and all … less than right. Yes, Russel, I do have an advantage in range; yes, Cardin, I do have an advantage in speed — put like that, I sound like the favourite, don't I? — and yes, Flash, I could impede Pyrrha's mobility, and I probably should for my own benefit. Put that together and…" A smile began to spread over her face.

Flash leaned forward. "And?"

Weiss looked at him. "And I think I might have an idea."


“So, Pyrrha against Weiss, huh?” Rainbow said. “That’ll be interesting.”

“Yes,” Twilight said. “Yes, it will. You know what else would be interesting? You and Blake telling us what the White Fang were doing on the Amity Colosseum.”

“That … is not actually that interesting,” Rainbow replied.

Twilight fixed her with a gaze over the top of her spectacles. “Rainbow Dash,” she said sternly. “The semi-finals are over; the finals aren’t due to start for a while to let Pyrrha and Weiss recharge their auras. You’ve got no excuses anymore.” She looked at Blake. “Come on, one of you, say something!”

“You may as well spit it out, Sugarcube,” Applejack said. “Not much point keeping it hidden.”

“Not least because if one of you doesn’t say something, then I’ll tell them,” Lady Belladonna declared.

“Okay, okay, I…” Rainbow hesitated, because in all honesty — to herself at least — she had been putting this off; she didn’t want … the fact that Blake had decided not to say anything suggested that she didn’t want the attention if she could avoid it, and in this case, Rainbow wasn’t sure that she wanted the attention either. She didn’t really want to tell everyone that the White Fang had put a hit out on her and Blake. She didn’t want … she guessed that she just didn’t want to be thought of in that way. She couldn’t speak for Blake, but she didn’t want to be … it just wasn’t something that she wanted people to think about her. It was … the fact that the White Fang had tried to take her out was weird enough — Blake, sure, she could understand that, snitches get stitches and all that, even though if she was in Blake’s shoes, she wouldn’t want to remind everybody that she was a snitch, but her? — but letting everyone know about it, having everyone know about it, felt even weirder.

Maybe she just didn’t want that kind of concern?

She couldn’t explain it particularly well, but if she were pushed, then she would probably have to admit that, yeah, that was what it was.

But it looked like it was either this or tell Blake about the fact that their TV show was killing her mom — on TV, anyway, not in real life, thank goodness — and Rainbow would rather put that off even more than the first thing, so she said, “I will tell you.” She glanced at Blake over the heads of everyone else.

“The White Fang were here to kill Blake,” she said.

There was an immediate chorus of shocked gasps.

“Here to kill you?” Twilight cried.

“Darling, how awful!” lamented Rarity.

“How could they?” asked Fluttershy.

Blake’s golden eyes gleamed with the light of betrayal as they found Rainbow Dash. “Why— why am I the only one?”

“Yeah, Rainbow Dash, why?” asked Applejack pointedly.

“Because…” Rainbow huffed. “Because I don’t want to admit that they were trying to kill me too.”

More gasps followed.

“Trying to kill you too!” Pinkie yelled. “They were trying to kill both of you?”

“It’s not a big deal,” Rainbow said.

“Yes,” Twilight said, “yes, it is a big deal; a group of White Fang terrorists sneaking on board the Amity Arena and trying to kill the two of you is a very big deal!”

“There were only a few of them, and we took care of them pretty easily, so … is it really?” Rainbow asked.

“Yes!” Twilight replied emphatically. “Why … is this because you don’t want to be seen as weak?”

“No,” Rainbow said.

Twilight stared at her.

“No, it really … maybe that’s a part of it,” Rainbow admitted. “I don’t want you to worry about me, okay; I worry about all of you, I don’t need to be worried about me.”

“But what if they try again?” asked Fluttershy anxiously.

“That,” Rainbow said, pointing towards Fluttershy. “Sorry, Fluttershy, but that, that is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you: I didn’t want you to be worrying about that, and I don’t think Blake wanted you to be worrying about that either.”

“Not particularly,” Blake murmured.

“Too bad,” Twilight said coolly. “Did you really think that you could keep this a secret? After Lady Belladonna knew?”

“And me,” Neon said.

“Me too,” added Sun, raising his hand.

Twilight’s eyebrows rose. “How did—?”

“I just wanted to hold off on it,” Rainbow said. “For as long as I could. I … just didn’t want to have…” — she waved her arms to encompass the box — “this.”

Twilight sighed as she got up and walked in front of Rarity and Applejack until she was standing by the wall, next to Rainbow Dash.

“I told you,” she said. “I told you once before, you don’t need to be the strong one all the time.”

Rainbow hesitated. “But what if I like being the strong one?”

“But why?” Rarity asked. “I mean why would the White Fang want to kill both Rainbow Dash and Blake? As unsavoury as it is, I can understand why they might want to kill Blake — no offence, darling, none at all; it’s just that you did leave their movement after all, and—”

“And you can see why they might want to send a message to a traitor,” Blake murmured.

“Exactly,” Rarity replied. “The plots of at least two Shadow Spade mysteries that I can remember hinge upon the fact that the murder victim was the member of some gang or other who tried to leave. But Rainbow Dash? Is it…” — she paused — “is it because you are … a faunus in Atlas?”

“I should hope not, or I’ll be next,” Neon muttered.

“No, it’s not because of that,” Rainbow replied. “It’s because … it’s because, according to Gilda, we’ve been … Blake, what was it she said?”

“That we’d been making the White Fang look bad,” Blake said.

“Wow!” Pinkie said. “Even I think that’s pretty childish.”

“Making them look bad?” Twilight repeated. “How could you possibly make the White Fang look bad? How could you or anyone else possibly make the White Fang look worse than they— oh my gods, is this about the SDC? Are they … are they mad that you and Blake exposed the SDC mines and saved all those faunus and they didn’t?”

Rainbow shifted a little from one foot to the other. “It seems that way.”

Twilight blinked rapidly. “Like Pinkie said: wow.”

“How staggeringly self-absorbed,” Rarity observed.

“Short-sighted, too,” Shining Armor observed. “Not to diminish your accomplishment, or to say that I wish my job were harder, but what kind of thinking was it to send a team after the two of you and ignore the Atlesian councillor right here?”

“Perhaps my presence has gone unnoticed?” Cadance suggested.

“More likely, Sienna Khan wanted to send a very specific message, one that wouldn’t have been sent by the assassination of an Atlesian councillor,” Lady Belladonna said. “An act which would send a message to Atlas, certainly, but right now, today, she didn’t want to send a message to Atlas; she wanted to send a message to the faunus: salvation lies through the White Fang, follow any other path, and … you will be punished for it. She always did have an ego.”

“Sienna Khan?” Cadance repeated. “You think that she ordered this attack?”

“It seems that she would have had to,” Blake murmured. “The Vale Chapter of the White Fang didn’t organise this by themselves.”

“How can you be so sure?” asked Shining Armor.

“Because I knew one of the members of the … hit squad,” Blake admitted. “And she wasn’t a part of the Vale Chapter, she served in Mistral; the High Leader must have ordered her to come to Vale and undertake this operation.”

“Doesn’t she have anything better to do than order assassinations on students?” asked Cadance. “Like advancing the cause of faunus rights?”

“In her mind, unfortunately, that’s what she thinks she’s doing,” Lady Belladonna replied. “Which means that she … she will certainly want to try again, Fluttershy, to partially answer your question.”

“That will be much harder to do in Atlas; the White Fang there is crushed,” Cadance declared. “And entrance into the city is very closely monitored.”

“I’m sure it is, Cadance, and I will appreciate the vigilance of the Atlesian authorities, for Blake’s sake,” Lady Belladonna said. “But as soon as I return to Menagerie, I mean to ensure that Sienna Khan calls off her dogs, not to mention see that she is suitably punished for having loosed them in the first place.”

“Mom, no!” Blake cried.

“Yes, Blake,” Lady Belladonna replied. “If you think that I’m going to just let the attempted murder of my daughter stand without response, then we have been apart too long.”

“Blake,” Rainbow said. “Why is this a bad thing?”

“Because Sienna is too popular to confront, for one thing,” Blake said. “The White Fang is popular on Menagerie—”

“So is your father,” Lady Belladonna said. “The people acclaimed him as their High Chieftain. Now, I admit that there is a lot of sympathy for the White Fang on Menagerie, but if I spread the word that Sienna ordered the death of the High Chieftain’s daughter for the crime of saving faunus lives in Atlas … she may not like what the people have to say about that.”

“But how will that get her to call off the assassination?” asked Cadance.

“Because Lady Belladonna means to threaten to expose her duplicitous conduct in exchange for her rescinding her barbarous orders,” Rarity said. “Don’t you, ma’am?”

“And a prize for Rarity,” Lady Belladonna said with a smile. “I’m going to tell Sienna that she can back off, or I’ll drag the truth of what the White Fang does into the light and let everyone on Menagerie judge it for themselves.” She paused. “And then, once she’s done what I want, I’m going to kill her, obviously.”

“Mom, that—” Blake stopped. “It’s too dangerous! What are you going to do, challenge her to a duel?”

“Challenge— Blake, I thought you wanted to be Atlesian, not Mistralian.”

You are Mistralian,” Blake pointed out. “Or at least, you were.”

“Yes, but my parents lived on the lower half of the middle slope; my father was a toolmaker,” Lady Belladonna said. “So, please, dear, don’t talk to me like I’m some pampered, privileged old blood patrician with a head full of thoughts of vengeance—”

“This from the woman who just told us that she intends to murder someone,” Blake muttered.

Lady Belladonna ignored her as she swept majestically on, “Pride and honourable combat. I’m not going to offer Sienna a fair fight. I’m going to poison her.”

“Poison?!” Twilight cried.

“Poison was the weapon of the Mistralian faunus against the slave owners, back in the old days,” Rainbow murmured.

Lady Belladonna favoured her with a smile. “And another gold star, this time for Rainbow Dash.”

Rainbow smiled sheepishly. “I, um, I read that in Sienna Khan’s book.”

“Oh, you’ve read Sienna’s book?” Lady Belladonna asked. “It is very well written, isn’t it? I was blown away by it when she asked me to proofread it for her. But perhaps Sienna should have reread it herself before she decided to cross me; then she would have remembered that poison was, as you say, the weapon of the slaves — and also of Mistralian aristocrats when the sword was inappropriate, which I find pleasingly ironic, I must admit.”

“Mom, you can’t poison Sienna Khan,” Blake insisted.

“Oh, I think I can, Blake; it’s just a matter of getting around her food taster,” Lady Belladonna replied airily. “As High Chieftain of Menagerie, people seek your father’s favour and his patronage, and some will do anything to attain it. Sienna may find out that her people are not as loyal to her as she might like to think.”

“Even if you could do it, that doesn’t mean that you should!” Blake insisted.

At this point, Rainbow was starting to feel a little uncomfortable; this was turning into almost some kind of family argument, the kind that you didn’t want to be stuck observing, because you couldn’t intervene in it, so all you could do was listen with ever-mounting embarrassment as two people went at it over things that were none of your business and that you didn’t want to know about.

“And why in Remnant not, after what she’s done?” demanded Lady Belladonna.

“Because I don’t want to lose you, Mom!” Blake shouted. “I just got you back, and I don’t want to…” Her voice dropped, becoming choked. “I don’t want the next message to come from Menagerie to be that you died trying to kill Sienna, or that you killed Sienna and then someone else in the White Fang killed you to avenge her. What good is that supposed to do me, or anyone else? Should I feel proud, or glad that my mother loved me so much that she was willing to die to … it’s not even avenging me because I’m not dead! I don’t feel proud, and I don’t feel glad; I just feel … I just want you to be safe.”

Lady Belladonna was silent, which was a first in Rainbow’s experience with her; she usually had an answer for everything, but this time, there was nothing. There was only silence as Lady Belladonna gently reached out and put one arm around Blake’s shoulders, drawing her into an embrace at her mother’s side.

Blake’s face vanished from Rainbow’s sight, hidden by her mother and by the way that her long, tangled black hair fell down like curtains to conceal her.

Rainbow felt a hand touch hers, a hand in hers. Twilight’s hand.

Rainbow looked at her: looking at Blake and her mother with tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She looked at Rainbow, and despite the tears, there was a slight smile formed upon her face.

Eventually, Lady Belladonna found her voice again, although she’d only found it quietly, because Rainbow had to prick her ears up to hear her. “Alright, Blake. Alright, if it … if it will please you, then I will … refrain from doing to Sienna any of the things that I would like to do to her.”

“Promise?”

Lady Belladonna hesitated a second before she said, “Yes, Blake, I promise.”

Rainbow smiled slightly and decided that telling Blake about their TV show could wait, for just a little while longer.


On her way up to see her mother, Pyrrha was a little surprised to meet the Wong family coming down the stairs.

“Lady Pyrrha! Lady Pyrrha!” Soojin cried, walking down first, hands up to hold onto her mother’s hands as she descended the stairs. “That was incredible! You were amazing!”

Pyrrha leaned forwards a little, resting her hands on her knees. “Amazing and incredible? I’m glad you enjoyed it enough to honour me with such high praise.”

“It was a praiseworthy display, Lady Pyrrha,” Lady Wong declared. “One might almost term it miraculous.”

“One might be exaggerating somewhat in that case, my lady,” Pyrrha murmured. “Fortune was with me.”

“No doubt,” Lord Wong pronounced, from the back of the group, “but fortune often favours the prepared. I doubt you walked out onto the field blindfolded with no idea of whether or not you would have any idea of where your opponent was?”

Pyrrha hesitated a moment, but of course Lord Wong was right; it would have been very stupid to have blindfolded herself with no plan. “I had hopes, my lord; I could not be sure my hopes would be borne out, but I did not venture forth blind, if you will excuse the play on words.”

“Your victory is no less impressive for the fact that you prepared for it, perhaps moreso,” Lord Wong informed her. “The hopes of Mistral now rest upon you in the final.”

Pyrrha took a deep breath. “So I have been told, my lord.”

“You’ll win for sure,” Soojin said. “Won’t you?”

“Weiss Schnee is a formidable opponent; I would not like to underestimate her nor make false promise to you,” Pyrrha admitted. “But I shall certainly do my best.”

Lord Wong descended the steps to stand beside his wife. “So long since we have had a Vytal Champion in our kingdom, so long indeed. I cannot recall a time when Mistral had won glory in the Vytal Tournament, and now … now, we stand upon the threshold. If you prevail—”

“When she wins!” Soojin insisted.

Lord Wong chuckled. “When you triumph, Lady Pyrrha, the whole city will feel different. I only regret I shall not be around to witness the change.”

“I … I will fight bravely and with all the skill with which I have been blessed,” Pyrrha said, “for my own sake, for my name, and for Mistral — besides for Beacon also and my friends here, I must add — but I think that you exaggerate the importance of this. Whether I win or lose, tomorrow, Mistral will still be Mistral, as it has been these many years.”

“Mistral has been lacking in confidence these many years, and in things to celebrate,” Lord Wong replied. “Your victory will give cause for a little jubilation at least; that is not nothing. You go to call on your lady mother?”

“Yes, my lord, I do.”

“Then it is fortuitous that we are leaving you in peace for a little while,” Lord Wong said jovially. “This little one has drank too much juice and needs to go to the bathroom, don’t you?”

“She isn’t the only one,” Lady Wong murmured softly.

Pyrrha smiled but said nothing, because there seemed to be no response required in the circumstance. She kept the smile upon her face as she stepped aside to let Soojin and Lady Wong pass her, and Lord Wong to once again bring up the rear.

As they went down, Pyrrha headed the opposite way, resuming her climb of the stairs towards her mother’s box.

Once more, she found Hestia waiting for her.

“Congratulations, young mistress,” Hestia said as she stepped aside.

“Thank you,” Pyrrha whispered in return as she walked into the box.

With the Wongs having departed for the bathroom, Mother had the box all to herself when Pyrrha arrived. She was on her feet, standing at the edge of the box with both hands — her cane was resting against the metal wall — placed upon the shining handrail, spread out a little away from her as she seemed to lean against the edge of the exclusive box, looking out across the vacant arena down below.

She turned her head, looking back over her shoulder. “Pyrrha,” she said. “You are alone?”

“Given how little you said to Penny or Jaune, it seemed hardly worthwhile to drag them up here,” Pyrrha replied. Especially if all Jaune was going to get from it was a degree of condescension.

“Is it so very strange that I should wish to talk to you, not them?” asked Mother. “Come, stand with me.”

Pyrrha did as her mother asked of her, standing at the railing with her hands folded, one across the other, and her wrists resting on the railing.

She looked down for a moment, but the sight of the arena empty, without anyone there, or any fight about to begin, was a rather uninteresting one, and so she looked at her mother instead.

“I … spoke to Sunset,” she said softly. “After what you said … I apologised. I felt it was only right and proper.”

“And how was your apology received?” Mother asked, not looking at Pyrrha.

“With grace,” Pyrrha said. “And great kindness, as is Sunset’s nature. She is a gentlewoman.”

“Indeed,” Mother said. “When this tournament is over, I should like to speak to Miss Rose.”

Pyrrha sucked in a sharp intake of breath. “I … and what will you say to her?”

Mother sniffed. “Do you fear what I will say?”

“Somewhat,” Pyrrha admitted. “Have I no cause to fear it? It was not so long ago that you spoke of giving Ruby a piece of your mind. Should I not suspect that you have not changed your mind?”

“I have not changed my mind, and I would have Miss Rose know what my mind is,” Mother declared. “I would have her know that Miss Shimmer deserved more loyalty than she was shown.”

“I … I think that Ruby does not care for loyalty,” Pyrrha said. “Or at least, Ruby’s only loyalty is to the people, not to Sunset or to any of us. Her mind will not be changed, even as yours has not.”

“That is her right, but I will be heard nonetheless,” Mother insisted.

“To what end?” Pyrrha asked. “What good will come out of you two yelling at one another, both deaf to the arguments of the other?”

“I will not be cowed to silence by fear that some Valish girl, of no family even by the low standards of this kingdom, will not like what I say,” Mother declared. “Do you fear that what I say will reflect badly upon you; is that why you would have me stay silent?”

“No, Mother, I … you must do as you think best, of course. You will, at any rate.”

“I shall indeed,” Mother said. “I … owe her as much, I think.”

I think Sunset would not want you to have a row with Ruby, Pyrrha thought.

Mother paused for a moment. “How does it feel?” she asked. “How does it feel to stand on the threshold of glory?”

“Knowing that only Weiss stands in my way?” Pyrrha asked. “Without wishing to dismiss or underestimate Weiss, it feels … rather good, I must admit. Almost wonderful.”

“'Admit'?” Mother repeated, and now she looked at Pyrrha. “You say that as though you are ashamed to be proud of your accomplishments.”

“Not ashamed,” Pyrrha murmured. “But a part of me would rather be humbler than this.”

“'Would rather be' or thought yourself to be?” Mother asked. “You liked to presume that you were above the base desires for fame and glory that moved me, didn’t you?”

“I…” Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. “It is more that the glories Mistral offered me had grown stale, and so I presumed that all the glories of arenas would similarly have so little effect upon my spirit. I … was wrong. This place … this place and the fact that it is my last tournament; combined, those two things … I want to win. I want to win the crown, the last and greatest crown, before I lay all crowns and other trophies to one side.”

Mother was silent for a moment. Silent and still. Then a smile embraced her wrinkled lips and made new lines around a much-lined mouth. “I am glad to hear it. I would question your wits were it otherwise, but, since you have made many decisions that I find baffling, I am glad to hear it.” Again, she took pause. “And what then? When you have won—”

“I may not—”

“You will win,” Mother declared. “You will be the champion of this tournament.”

“Is that a command?” Pyrrha asked.

“That is my confident prediction,” Mother replied. “But when you have won, what then?”

“Then?” Pyrrha asked. “Then I will complete my next three years here and become a huntress.”

“In Vale?”

“In Mistral,” Pyrrha told her. “Mistral is my home; I could not leave her.”

“And Mister Arc, will he come with you?”

“Yes, we have … discussed it,” Pyrrha said. “In which case … if you could call him Jaune—”

“As a huntress, will you also have time or inclination to learn how to follow in my footsteps as head of the Nikos family?” Mother asked. “One day, hopefully not too soon, but one day, the burdens of the family will fall to you, to tend to our wealth and prestige until the time comes for you to descend to the shades in turn and pass our lineage on to your children by … Mister Arc.”

Even were Professor Ozpin to place heavy demands upon me, I am sure that I could fit it in; Ruby’s mother managed to raise a family while serving him, after all. “Is that what you would have of me?”

“What I would have of you?” Mother repeated. “What I would have of you is … almost ended now. All that I wished and desired has near come true, and you are still so young.” A sigh escaped her. “I was never the Champion of Mistral. I resented grievously the injury that had forced my retirement, while telling myself that I might have achieved greatness had it not been for that accident, but in truth, perhaps the accident spared me humiliation and the fate of Phoebe Kommenos.”

“I am sure that you were more talented than Phoebe,” Pyrrha murmured. “You won some acclaim, some tournaments.”

“I did,” Mother said. “But I was never the Champion of Mistral, or the Vytal Champion; I never won any of the great games. All I wished for, all that I desired, was a child who would do better than I had done. But the gods gave me a child who would be better than I ever was.”

A gasp burst free from Pyrrha’s lips; she could not contain it, any more than she could stop the widening of her eyes. Mother had never spoken to her like that, at least not that she could recall, and surely, she would recall something so rare.

“For … truly?” she whispered.

“I do not speak to flatter your vanity,” Mother said. “But to speak only truth, as we come to the end of the road of ambition. On the day that you were born, when I felt all my strength and vigour leave me and enter you, as I grew so much older than I should have grown … it should have been clear to me that you would be more than the sum of my ambitions for you.” She paused. “All that I have ever wished for you, you have delivered, though you have not always wished it yourself. And today, I have no doubt, you will achieve my last desire for you and be crowned and acclaimed and acknowledged as the greatest fighter of your day, in any kingdom in Remnant, to strut the arena. And you will still be but eighteen years old. Eighteen years old and with no more ambitions of your mother’s to concern you. You will be—”

“Free,” Pyrrha whispered.

Mother’s eyebrows rose. “Bound only by honour and decorum, and what is appropriate for a young woman of your birth and station,” she reminded Pyrrha. “But, within those bounds, whatever you desire, I will support, or at least, I shall endeavour to do so.”

Pyrrha stared at her mother. She had never … she had never given thought to such a moment as this, although it should have been the obvious question: what would her mother want of her once she had won the Vytal Tournament?

And it seemed the answer was … nothing. Nothing but what Pyrrha herself might wish, constrained by Mistralian culture and tradition.

And it was wonderful. Every bit as wonderful as being a finalist.

It was not just a crown that waited for her if she defeated Weiss.

Other, far more glittering prizes were hers for the taking.

She only had to fight for them.

Author's Note:

Growing up in a country that hadn't won any tournament in the game it invented since the 1960s was a great help to me in writing about how the Mistralians feel about Pyrrha and her chances in this final (we'll see whether things change now the Lionesses have brought home the Euros). It's a bit exaggerated, obviously - I don't know anyone who actually danced around a kitchen singing Three Lions (It's Coming Home) but the spirit is true to life, I think.

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