Destiny. Is it a fixed point that leads to an unavoidable end? Or is it, perhaps, the connections and events in our lives that transform us. Experiences that change us to achieve a goal that we abandoned through tragic best intentions. Is destiny just another excuse, or it the power inside us that will not let our time end before our true purpose has been fulfilled.
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Hello there, Edgy here posting my first fic on this site. I was inspired to get back into writing by some of the great writing on this site by Coeur Al'Aran, Mallobaude, NeoShadows and others.
I decided to start out with a simple wish-fulfillment story from Season 3. Hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY, it is the creation of Rooster Teeth and Monty Oum
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Beacon fell, Pyrrha died,
or did she?
As she kneeled at the top of the tower, arrow piercing her chest, her polarity called to her despite her aura being depleted. The maiden powers had left her. Left behind, the remains of her soul had acquired a sort of understanding. The bonds of the molecules in her cells being ripped apart and burned asunder by the red witch's touch cried out to her. For her friends, for her world, she could not fail, for Jaune.
She clings to her pieces as they drift away. The ferromagnetic properties of Carbon are weak, but she can feel them through the light of her soul. She never had the cause to wonder, nor the desperate need to explore, just to what extent she could control the charges of certain materials. Now she realized, non metallic materials had charges too. Some materials had a weak magnetism, but they all had atoms, electrons, molecular chemistry on the small scale was all about polarization. That realization, that polarity is as much a fundamental force of nature as any elemental magic, feeds her desperation. Her soul begins to build those bonds between molecules back one charge at a time. Pulling Oxygen from the air to feed reactions and letting her Aura remember her corporeal form. Her willpower hardened refusing to let the light of her soul die. The agony extends for months, years, time beyond measure to a desperate spirit determined to stay in the world where they had found love and happiness and friendship.
When she awakens the sky is dark and the sounds of beasts surrounds her. She feels weak but finds enough cloth to fashion a modest toga. She lets herself rest upon the rubble both to regain her breath and allow her aura to recuperate. When she looks out upon Beacon she gasps. She knew that the attack by Cinder and her allies was devastating, but to look upon the first place she had begun to think of as home so despoiled had her questioning the point of the long torture she had endured to restore herself. Doubts crept into the crack in her resolve. The doubt of her lovable goofball of a knight to survive this reality. The doubt of the power of her friends to oppose an evil this great.
Doubt drives her to wonder just how long she was gone. The petrified dragon she sees at the tower's edge is terrifying. Could she have been gone long enough for this beast to begin its hibernation and grow that ashy rocklike shell? No, the vegetation has not yet retaken the campus grounds below. The fires in the city of Vale beyond the cliff have all but burnt out. It still could have been days or months.
She notices her weapon and shield are gone, lost among the ruins or maybe retrieved by friends for a memorial or the enemy for a trophy. The metal of the gears surrounding her resonates with her soul, clearer than ever before. She listens to the sharp, bright song it sings in the magnetic spectrum. The strong charges she is so used to are now accented by the weaker but more plentiful noise of valence electrons and electrochemical forces. She steels herself and rises to stand in the center of the tower. The metal's song tells her that it has been long enough for the season of rebirth to begin after a period of cold. The irony of being born again in the season of new life is not lost on her.
Yes, that is what this is, a new life, another chance. She raises a hand towards the piles of clockwork scraps. The metal becomes liquid, then gas as the atoms are excited. She knows every spring, lever and circuit of her weapon like an old friend. After all, in the loneliness before Beacon, Ruby was not the only one who held one sided conversations with their most reliable companion. As the image forms in her mind so too does the gaseous metal form the parts and assemble the mechanisms. The rifling of the barrel is molded from the air, the blade sharpened to an uncanny keenness by her mind. Promachos, She who fights in front. The shield comes into being and with a smirk she adds a flourish, her symbol overlaid by a double crescent embossed in the center. Atrytone, the Unwearying. More metal forms around her chest, shins, and forearms. Finally she holds her hands in front of her and the metal of the brass fixtures mixes with the plentiful ancient metal from the gears. A crown forms, much like her previous diadem, but with a pattern of leaves and branches. She settles the crown on her brow and it unfolds expanding into a crested helmet.
The Goddess of Victory had died, but in her place had arisen an even greater being. Now she knew, Victory was not about the triumph of heroes over foes. Victory was not earned by the most skilled, most clever, or even the most powerful warrior. Victory was standing with your friends against the tide of those who would tear you apart. A single woman could not find victory. Because the only way to find victory is to protect what you love and let those who love you protect you. She came back to protect her world and her friends. She had abandoned them to seek one on one combat. She had kissed the boy she loved and stuck him in a rocket locker because she had always been taught that the only way to win was through personal glory. Never again. She would find her friends and bring them together. She would hope against hope that the scraggly blonde knight she loved would forgive her. She would still stand beside him, beside all of them, and protect that which she held dear. She would sacrifice nothing. She would fight to live another day. That was the why and how of her return. That was the destiny she had been saved to accomplish. More than a Seasonal Maiden, she had become the Goddess of Protection.
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A/N
This is the Pyrrha resurrection idea that came to me after first watching Season 3. While I always felt she was written to be very 2 dimensional (The Untouchable Champion and The Unrequited Crush) I also saw that she had so much potential for growth. I mean the Maidens may control the elements, but she had power over one of the fundamental forces of nature too. When we get to season 4 and get thrown semblances that can evolve under stress? Why didn't that happen for Pyrrha when she was finally facing a challenge that pushed her past her limits?
Well, that's my reasoning behind this story. (and my rant about world-building inconsistencies.)
For those wondering, The weapons and armor are themed around the Greek goddess Athena.
I have several other stories in the works, so expect more soon.
So Fav, Follow, Review and take it easy. Edgy