The Eucharist

The world is but a grand game of chess, played with a mere four pieces.

*The Blake-gets-kidnapped post-graduation AU*

Chapter 1: Sicilian defense

A bold opening and combative in nature. Black is playing not just for equality, but for the advantage.

"Human affairs are like a chess-game: only those who do not take it seriously can be called good players."

Yang makes a visit. All does not seem well.


Yang treaded down the dimly lit hallway in mud-caked boots, streaking dark smudges against carpet, pristinely new. She didn't know when she started hating this place, but she's certain she hates it now. It reeked of half-masked lies. Victorian lights and some lush Turkish-inspired rugs do nothing to hide the sterile new-building smell with an absence of warmth and life.

On paper, the location of the unit was good. Top floor corner, west-facing windows to capture the daily setting sun, all furnished with a dark oak flooring of which Blake had been particularly fond. It reminded her of Forever Falls. Located squarely in the middle of an up-and-coming neighborhood bustling with nightlife, the place itself was still too new to be bustling with many tenants. How did Blake phrase it? Tangent yet aloof.

Like attracts like, it seems.

When they first toured it, the brawler had watched her partner spin around the empty space like a ballerina, arms spanned as wide as her smile, cloaked in a playful mirth she hadn't witnessed in a long, long time.

"It's beautiful. It's perfect," Blake had whispered almost wistfully, seemingly trawling for sepia-tinted memories.

No sooner had she stopped spinning that she'd made an offer on the spot. It wasn't everyday Yang saw her partner make impulsive decisions (that's usually her job), nevermind ones to spoil herself.

But Blake deserved so much more, for someone who had already borne so many lifetimes' worth of sins.

They moved in within the week.

When the blonde dropped the last of the moving boxes on the floor with an unceremonious flourish, she was rewarded with warm arms draped softly around her waist.

"Thanks." She felt her partner's warm cheeks press into her back, the sensation seeping deeper than skin. She nudged just a bit tighter into the embrace. They both knew the gratitude was for more than just helping with the move.

But a lot went unspoken between them nowadays.

"Don't mention it." Yang felt an odd pang of emptiness as Blake let go to return to unpacking. It felt weird to be the one leaving this time, but recently, she'd been the flightier partner.

It's been a year since the team broke up, the aftermath leading Ruby and Weiss to bury themselves in their respective work, and Yang to take that world tour she'd always wanted, albeit for all the wrong reasons, only to come storming back on hearing the first hitman's bullet strayed three inches from Blake's head.

Suppressing an unpleasant squirm in her gut, Yang palmed the doorframe, already half-way out. She couldn't suppress one last glance. Boxes and piles of books made a haphazard fortress, with the faunus only visible as a pair of ears behind a tub crudely labeled "kitchenware," filled to the brim with new dishes and pans that had been a present from the team for Blake's law school graduation two years prior.

Struck by a last-minute mischievous streak, the blonde cupped her mouth and channeled her inner prince charming. "Ahoy there, fair lady, whilst thou needeth rescue from yon cardboard prison and be freed from a lifetime of unpacking servitude?" She mimed in her finest butchered old English, probably borrowed from some ancient book Blake once force-fed her.

Her grin stretched into a full-toothed beam as fuzzy ears twitched and twin amber eyes arched into view, full of peeved fondness reserved for Yang only. The look on the faunus' face was one her partner hadn't seen in over a year. A genuine smile. One that was truly happy.

Yang was taken aback.

Ever attentive, Blake reflexively tilted her head. "Yang, you ok?" When the blonde failed to respond, she chose to probingly tease. "Did using big words break you?" Still no response. She softened and relented. "I'll be fine. Just give me a few days to unpack."

Suddenly guilty, Yang instinctively magnetized toward her. Lightly propelled herself from the door frame, she bounced over a wall of books before landing crouched mere inches from her raven-haired partner, her mournful lilac eyes suddenly a breath away from concerned amber. Yang sighed heavily.

"I'm really sorry for leaving tomorrow. I should be helping you set up shop," came the rueful apology. Petulant, even. Then it was Blake's turn to let out a dramatic huff.

"Yang, for the millionth time, there's nothing to apologize for. If anything, I should be apologizing to you for strong arming you into helping me move." The blonde's mouth opened to protest that it was no trouble at all, but a gentle finger to her lips sealed them as her partner continued with a wry smile.

"I'm excited for you, I really am. This is your first real mission since—" she hesitated, suddenly contrite, "—since forever. You've already done so much for me. But both you and I know what you need right now is some self-discovery, and not to bodyguard me." Her expression was poetic melancholy plucking at Yang's heartstrings as she reached to tuck away a strand of Yang's wild flaxen hair.

"I really hope you find what you're looking for. I know you'll find what you're looking for."

How unfair, Yang thought, how those golden eyes, filled with understanding and warmth, so easily rendered her mute without fail.

She gently tugged and pulled Blake into an embrace, becoming awash in the lingering scent of raven tresses full of something floral and nostalgic, something she will never tire of. She closed her eyes and let herself be submerged in the sensation of it all, willing the moment to never pass.

But Blake was right. Yang can't stand by her side forever.

More than once this past year she would've been willing to give up her other arm if it meant she could undo all the damage to her team. The doe-eyed, self-questioning young huntresses of Team RWBY thrown haphazardly together by fate was a distant haze blocked out by unhealed scars.

But she couldn't deny that out of the wreckage, everyone else had already started reconstructing their lives with purpose. Blake had found her own path to follow. Her sister and Weiss too.

And yet for herself…

Why do you want to become a huntress?

That deceivingly innocuous question which continues to haunt her gently, silently.

She cannot remain the last one to leave it unanswered.

Not for the first time, she looked, really looked, at the faunus still deep in her embrace, and saw Blake not as her partner and other half on the battlefield, but as the world saw her.

To the world, Blake was fire. The young revolutionary turned legal scholar who wrought justice through the rule of law. Hope to a race of people who had long thought hope dead. After winning Adam's trial, she suddenly garnered the attention she'd desperately sought for a lifetime since she first protested with that picket sign at the age of six.

The suitors of her alliance came in drenching waves of all factions and sides. The politburo, the underground, the corporations, the military, everyone who was anyone descended like ravenous vultures to feast, vying for her and filling her ears with whispers of promises and partnerships and alliances, every intention dripping with poison.

She chose to ignore them all.

The young faunus rights lawyer opted to walk her own path. She was aware rebuffing powerful figures likely made her a notable list of enemies, but she wanted to show the world that she could not be bought. She wanted to help her people the right way.

Then came three brushes with death, the first of which brought Yang back to her side, and the last of which landed her and Yang in the hospital and twenty bystanders dead, the mental trauma blocking her from practice for nearly half a year, with Yang never more than footsteps away.

The situation had since de-escalated, and the blonde knew her utility was waning. She can't be just the watchdog who trailed behind forever.

"Yang?" The brawler snapped out of her daze and shivered. When did they pull apart from the hug?

"You ok?" The worry lining Blake's voice only spiked guilt in Yang. She shouldn't be burdening the one who already shouldered so much. So she nodded, though mostly to convince herself.

"Yeah. I'm fine." She will be. For Blake. For her team. She has to be.


The mission was supposed to take eight weeks but ended in six.

Her scroll had been destroyed a mere five days in, during a night stampede. The irony that the mission was codenamed Operation Blackout wasn't completely lost on her.

Yang supposed herself lucky that when two dozen Beowolves suddenly tore into camp in the dead of night, the alpha that squashed her tent didn't land a meter more to the left. Ruby would much rather deal with her moaning and groaning about how much a scroll costs than an army official breaking the news that her beloved older sister now shared the consistency of rotting meatloaf. That Ruby personally begged and pleaded with her government superiors to place Yang on the mission wouldn't have helped.

Still, not having communication was torture, and as the days passed Yang found herself growing increasingly antsy.

Like any Grimm-clearing mission, progress was slow. She might be in the company of Vale's finest military elites, but the Goliaths they seem to be encountering at every corner proved difficult enemies.

By the time they reached the final flushing point, some old underground military bunker along the Vale-Vacuo border, rumors of a suicide bombing at the Vale capitol building, where Ruby kept an office, had reached the group. With no way to contact her sister, Yang characteristically imploded and decided to take things into her own hands. The mission was about to have an expedited end.

She knew her sister could take care of herself and probably wasn't even in the capitol the day of the bombing with how frequently Ruby took missions, but the crawling nag of not knowing ate at her like acid. After all, her own brush with death with Blake was still fresh in mind.

Three days later, she was back in the damaged capitol building, her haste only rewarded by the constant droning of hurried construction and repairs. Ruby's office, as it turned out, sat on an outside wing and escaped unscathed.

"Yang, stop that! Just because you're my sister doesn't make it ok for you cake dirt on my desk," complained the very subject of Yang's worries and concerns for the past month, alive, unharmed, and becomingly increasingly annoyed.

The brawler only chuckled as she crossed her arms loosely behind her head, unceremoniously dropping one experimental boot she had just sneaked up on her sister's desk. She sneaked a one-eyed glance at her younger sibling, which was promptly ignored as Ruby ungracefully swept her older sister's other leg off the table.

Ruby Rose looked like the model government huntress. She sort of was, Yang noted internally with a hint of displeasure, with the way her face was used and plastered on the official websites and pamphlets. Taiyang would nod approvingly if he saw his daughter, though, especially at the collared blouse popped smartly under a slim-fit blazer which replaced the once iconic combat-skirt and hood, now painting the very image of a working professional. Even her personality had become professional...and a lot less fun. Ruby's eyes had not once broken from the report in her hand as she continued to read aloud, something unheard of during their Beacon years.

"Special Operative Xiao Long at 0400 began independent engagement against Grimm. Communication was cut once she descended below ground level of the mission's final Grimm flush point, Canopy Bunker. Lead squad attempted to follow as backup but could not advance past the high density of Grimm.

At 0430 signal for retreat was given and mission was determined a failure. At 0500 communication with operative Xiao Long was re-established, with verbal report from operative Xiao Long that all below ground level Grimm were terminated. Retreat orders were reiterated for operative Xiao Long, with no affirmation.

At 0510 visual confirmation was received of flames spanning the entirety of ground level. At 0515 received verbal confirmation from operative Xiao Long that all Grimm activity on all floor levels was terminated. At 0520 Operation Blackout's operational outcome was reversed, and determined as successful."

Ruby finally looked up and locked gaze with Yang, incredulous. "Yang. You didn't."

The blonde couldn't bite back a smirk. "Maaaybe I did? Oof!" Her sheepish reply was cut short as Ruby hurtled herself into her sister.

"You. Are. AMAZING! Amazingly reckless, that is, but I can't believe you cleared out that entire bunker of Grimm by yourself. You could've died! How many Grimm were there? And you set the place on fire?"

Ruby really was trying her best to put on a scolding, Yang could tell, but the old effervescent fifteen-year-old enthusiasm that bubble just under the surface made her uncoil a bit, knowing the government hadn't yet managed to squeeze all the spunk out of her sister.

"I felt like I was swimming in the Dead Sea. Because of how Grimm the situation was. Get it?" She frankly guffawed as brunette groaned and rolled her eyes so hard they flashed nothing but white.

"Yang…"

"You know you love me."

Ruby pouted indignantly. "Yeah I do. So much so that I'd really like it if I'm not constantly paranoid that I sent my own sister into a deathtrap mission," she chided, her gaze suddenly turning hard, "especially when she doesn't seem to understand the phrase, follow orders?"

The brawler visibly winced at that. But Ruby was merciful, opting to change the subject.

"The commander seemed to really like you. I mean, I can't tell you what he said at the debriefing since, you know," she dropped her voice to a knowing whisper, "government hush hush, but he'll definitely have your back if you want to apply as a government huntress."

Yang giggled like a schoolgirl. The commander was a tough-ass lick of spit and railed on her from the get-go. A nonchalant attitude and lack of deference for military code on her part culminated in a tirade of insults turned outright fist-fight between the two just three days into deployment.

"Don't think you earned your place here just because your sister licked some councilor's shoes for you," the old army dog had vehemently spat, probably in reply to something Yang insinuated about dried tree bark and his manhood. And in front of a dozen pairs of horrified eyes of Vale's best and finest, Yang hurled her fists into the old cuss's jaw, instantly popping teeth.

The commander had tottered drunkenly into a sprawling heap. Yang had mentally prepared herself for the flogging or execution or whatever they did to people like her. What she had not expected was laughter.

With blood dribbling down both nostrils and a wretched, half-toothy smile, the old man was cracking up on the ground as if he'd just heard Remnant's best joke. He spat out blood and probably another tooth.

"You punch hard."

She'd swallowed her nerves, thick as molasses. "Well, my dad taught me to try not to punch, but if I had to, to make the first one count."

And with that, Yang was given free rein to do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, for the duration of the mission. If it hadn't been for the old man's adamant shielding, Yang's little stunt at Canopy Bunker would've likely strung her up for a military tribunal for insubordination at a minimum. Instead, she'd been given a hero's welcome and an open invitation to join her sister in the rank of Vale's elite hunters and huntresses.

And in true Yang Xiao Long fashion, she flatly declined.

She appreciated her sister's gesture, but it didn't feel right, to live life under constraints and orders, no matter how much freedom they promised. She abhorred the thought of being controlled, and even worse, being in the spotlight. She saw what it did to Blake and Weiss, one violently propelled up a pedestal, the other forced to retreat behind a corporate fortress.

At least she gave it a try. After giving Ruby a quick hug, she set off to break the bad news to Blake. She's back two weeks early, so maybe it'll be a surprise.

A surprise it was, but for the wrong party.


A/N: This story started with two sentences. "Blake gets kidnapped. The White Fang are literally ISIS." Hey, if Trump can be a serious presidential contender then anything can happen.

I actually had this written toward the end of February when I was procrastinating hard for my boards, but I kept rewriting and rewriting it, and lo and behold here we are. One day I will recount how disgustingly large an amount of time I spent imagining Yangsty scenarios instead of studying for likely the most important exam of my life. The best impetus to write is apparently test anxiety.

The first couple of chapters will come out fast because they were mostly written two months ago. What is a schedule, clearly neither I nor GRRM knows. I actually have 31+ pages of random scenes and the ending line written, so basically it's just organizing this fiasco, fml story of my life \:D/.