DISCLAIMER: This is purely a work of fan fiction. I do not own RWBY. AN: I put this fic idea together within about two hours of seeing the Volume 3 Finale; the episode was a perfect end from a storytelling perspective, and opened up the Saga of Remnant in so many ways, it lived up to it's title of 'The End of the Beginning.' But that said, nothing these past two days has kept losing Phyrra from my mind, I get so emotionally invested in the shows I love that when I lose the characters that I look up to, it leaves me physically devastated. So I'm writing this fic, to pick up the threads of the story where Volume 3 finishes up, taking some cues from unanswered questions in earlier volumes. This is my prediction for the plotline of season 4 of RWBY, I do not work for Rooster Teeth nor am I affiliated with them in any capacity (though Christ I wish I did!). This is simply my wild, hopeful speculation of how this will go. -RFRG For it is in passing that we achieve immortality.
"Do you believe in destiny?"
It took near a full second for him to notice the arrow. The ringing in his ears stopped. The bounding of his leaden heart in his throat stopped. His panicked breathing stopped. Everything in all of creation, for one last heartbeat, stopped. For a moment, all was peaceful, all was tranquil, all was as a hazy autumn afternoon before the chill to come. He felt his bronze warplate rise and fall with the faint, but steady motion of his chest, felt the cool metal of his greaves channelling the chill of the stone below, He felt every strand of his scarlet hair catch the breeze in an elegant bid for freedom. In that single moment, he was at one with life itself.
Then he saw the arrow sticking out of his chest. He didn't scream, he couldn't, the fire erupting within his breast had robbed him of whatever breath his punctured lung had spared. He was aflame at the molecular level, his soul was on fire. And there was nothing in all of creation but pain…pain…and her…and then all was ash. "JAUNE!"
He awoke screaming, the noise clattering off the walls of the cave with discordant fury, a cry of inhuman agony, of pure undiluted grief that could have woken the dead for miles. Sweat ran in greasy rivers off his brow, salting his cheeks and matting his golden hair…
Gold? Not Red?The scream died in his throat, choked on the spluttering gurgle that chased it from his vocal cords. He tore at his hair, fingers wrenching free whole tufts of yellow thread as he desperately sought for the maddened proof that refused to let him dream, hoping against hope for crimson. He stared at the strands of hair in his palm, tears welling in his eyes. Gold….
Gold meant that he was himself.
Gold meant that Jaune Arc was alive.
Gold meant that she was still dead.
He didn't know how long he cried, the tears had clouded his vision, the pain of his waking nightmare dulling his mind. It wasn't until he felt strong arms around him, until suddenly a shoulder was there that he could lay his head against, that he became aware of his surroundings – that he, begrudgingly, came back to the vague peripheries of life.
Nora held her leader in a tender grip, kneeling against the cold stone of the cave floor, her bare knees scabbed and bruised from having tripped a moment ago. She had been on watch duty when Jaune's scream had startled her, sending her off balance and clattering to the floor like a toddler taking her first steps. She didn't begrudge him the state of her knees though, she knew exactly how he felt, his pain was hers too. So the Valkyrie held the warrior tenderly, and wordlessly, as his sobs subsided, as his breathing steadied, as the slumber of grief reclaimed him and he began to snore quietly once more.
She laid Jaune against his rucksack, which was serving as a makeshift pillow, and returned to the cave-mouth, where she had left Maginhild, and her personal woes for a minute. This was the third time in as many days that Jaune had been overtaken by nightmares; always they had been followed by some form of frenzied self-discovery; tearing at his hoodie, cutting his hands on Crocea Mors, now tearing out his own hair. Always with the maddened stare of a zealot who knows exactly what he will find, but hopes against all reason that he will discover the opposite. The first two times, Jaune's terrified cries had woken Ruby and Ren, their comrades as much disturbed by the maddened anguish of their friend as they were by their own inability to help. Ruby had tried to calm Jaune with words of reassurance, Ren had tried something similar in his own awkward, shy way, but neither of them had had much effect, only Nora's silent guardianship had worked in lulling the fitful boy back to an uneasy, but much needed sleep. This time, the others had been away scouting, leaving Jaune, exhausted from three days journey and his own nightmares sapping at his sleep, under Nora's watch. She was glad, though she knew that they were well into Grimm territory by now, she also knew that Ruby and Ren would be much more in their element, and much more comfortable, slaying a horde of Beowolves, than watching their beloved friend tear himself apart, unable to help.
Nora sat against the cave wall, staring watchfully out at the forest. It had taken them a full day of hiking through the forests of Patch to reach the coast, plus two full days of piloting the dilapidated, but serviceable motorboat that they had purchased off a Patch fisherman for most of their lien. The boat itself had coughed and spluttered itself to death a few hours before Nora began her vigil, but it had carried them well to the north east of the continent, far from the prying eyes of the survivors still rebuilding the wrecked city of Vale. It had served its purpose. Nora fished around in her rucksack for their dog-eared map, their only source of direction out here, so far from any form of scroll signal. She smirked to herself, amused at how often she had lecturered Ren about being a bookworm, only for her to now be the studious one; her sense of direction and geography, drummed into her over long, tedious hours of studying with her partner, was near-perfect. Academia may have had its uses after all.
Rustle
Her ears pricked up at the noise. Maginhild was in her hand in a heartbeat, grenade-launcher form ready and loaded. Her eyes scanned the undergrowth, tracking for targets, her huntress' instincts readying her for the fight to come.
"Brrrcawww."
She cocked an eyebrow, tilting her head towards the bushes, the source of the strange sound. It took her a heartbeat before a smile wound its way across her features.
"I guess that's not what a sloth sounds like after all." She mused, a chuckle escaping her lips as Ren picked his way through the bush, awkwardly sifting a path through the bushes, trying to stop the branches from whipping back and hitting the smaller girl he had in tow, with minimal success.
"Owww! Oww! Owww!" Ruby moaned as the umpteenth twig to abuse her that day thwacked her unceremoniously in the face as she trod in Ren's wake through the underbrush. 'Stupid tree." She cursed as they both finally broke free of the tangle of roots and branches. Nora, feeling elated for the first time that day, skipped her way down to her teammates, pulling them both into a bone-crunching hug, much to the protest of one sorely winded Ren.
"Nora…can't breathe…" he croaked, prompting the hammer-wielder to release him, leaving him more than a little unsteady on his feet. "I've had enough trouble getting sideswiped by Beowolves already today without you choking me."
"Aww, poor baby!" she teased, eliciting a giggle from Ruby. "So, how'd the scouting go?"
"We found the east road from the map," chimed in the other girl, "It's about a mile and a half back that way, and with any luck, the route to it should stay clear of Grimm for at least a few hours."
That was something at least, Nora consulted the map again as the three of them made their way back up to the cave in which they had sought shelter. They were a few miles inland, in heavily forested territory, but they had deliberately aimed to reach the mainland at its northern peninsula, the smallest expanse of land before they reached the Mistralian ocean. Acording to the map, their newly discovered road was a straight shot to the sea, three days travel at most. After that, they had the problem of traversing several hundred miles of ocean to the south and east, but they would cross that metaphorical bridge when they came to it. Even then though, their trek would be entirely in hostile territory; the nearest town was either miles off-course, or on the opposite coast itself.
Nora grimaced, the last few days had been an emotional test on many different levels. For Ruby and Ren, Nora keeping up her usual bubbly enthusiasm was of the utmost importance. She could sense the waves of doubt flowing from her partner; they had already lost a teammate, and she knew it was taking all of Ren's effort to not try and convince them to turn back lest they lose another– he had sworn that he was up for this, they all had, but she knew he had done it only because it was one thing to fear losing a comrade beside you in battle, but something wholly worse to sit at home alone, watching the horizon, praying that your loved ones came back from a fate you could not share with them. Ruby on the other hand, was a veritable mixed-bag of emotion – she kept up her usual unflappable demeanour, but it wasn't hard to notice the guilt under the surface, the pain at failing to save Pyrrha, the pain of losing her sister to self-doubt and anguish, of running away from her father who only wanted to know his girls were safe. Right now Nora's enthusiasm was the only thing keeping Ren's doubt and Ruby's guilt from swallowing them whole – it was keeping their minds on the task at hand, and on lighter things, and not from the demons eating way at them.
And then there was Jaune.
The blonde boy had been nearly silent on the road so far, save for monosyllabic or minimally worded responses when directly questioned. he'd even handled his motion sickness on the boat with barely a complaint. No amount of bubbly jokes and the like could elicit much beyond a fleeting smile. Their leader had retreated wholly into himself, lost in memory, lost in grief. Nora could sense the strength in him fighting back at the pain, strength scrounged up from the memories of the woman who'd loved him, and whom he had, far too late, learned to love in return. The struggle within him was hidden behind a mask of introspective neutrality; the victory was displayed in every onward step Jaune took with the group, the trade-off being that he said hardly a word, lest his grief betray him with each syllable. All Nora could do for Jaune was hold him when the nightmares set in, when he couldn't defend himself against the agony. All she could do was hold him, and hope that each day, he continued to walk onwards. To his credit, he had yet to disappoint.
Jaune was awake by the time they returned. Bleary-eyed, haggard, sweat still matting his brow, but awake nonetheless. He acknowledged Nora with a nod and a rare smile, which she returned, silent thanks for her calming him from his waking nightmares again, even if sleep had ultimately eluded him. Ruby bounded up to him, beaming broadly, and pulled him into a tight hug before he could back away, with barely perceptible effort, he returned it, before she retreated to a respectful distance. Ruby knew that Jaune needed space, but that a carefully placed hug was usually quietly appreciated – she let Nora do the legwork though once the screaming started.
"Are we moving out?" Jaune asked the group.
"That's the plan, a mile south east to the road, then three days hike straight east." Nora said matter-of-factly, rolling up the map and grabbing her pack, pilfering a ration bar out of a side-pouch – breakfast would be portable as always, they had a lot of ground to cover and the sooner they reached Mistral, the better.
"Alright," acknowledged Jaune, in what Nora knew would be his last words for several hours, before rolling up his bedroll and snapping up some rations of his own. As the four of them left their temporary abode, Nora took a glance at the sun beginning to crest the horizon, taking comfort in the fact that no matter how dire the night may be, or even how dreadful the days passed had been, the sun would always rise, and there would always be a tomorrow in which to right the wrongs of today. She smiled broadly at her inner poet, hefting Maginhild onto her shoulder as she strode through the trees, beginning a tuneless warble about nothing in particular, but knowing the random assortment of notes would keep Ruby amused for a while.
Jaune trailed at the back of the group, listening quietly as Nora, and now Ruby and even Ren laid brutally into a tune about a tap-dancing Beowolf, a bawdy number that wouldn't have been out of place in a tavern after a few rounds. He was thankful that due to his friends' efforts, there were no actual Beowolves around to hear them. He appreciated everything Nora was doing for their spirits, especially his own, even if it was just a case of a few well-placed hugs and some terrible singing. But for now, he had to stay quiet. Because if he let himself get too distracted by his friends, he would miss her.
She walked next to him with the same effortless, fluid grace she had possessed in life. Where he had to sidestep a tree or duck under a branch, she melted through it as though it were smoke, only to appear out the other side, her stride unbroken, her smile unwavering. Now and again, they would stop for a moment, and just stare wordlessly into each other's eyes. Sometimes he would turn and she would be gone, only to appear sitting idly in the next tree, and the next, and the next, or around the next corner, leaning against a tree trunk, and the next and the next. More often than not though, she would just walk at his side, her spectre channelling the strength he needed in his heart to take each step. Her hand ghosted into his grip, so tender, so soft, he almost felt it, it and the parting kiss she had left him – her final gift before her last battle, still he could taste her on his lips, long months later. Where she walked now, winter's touch could not harm him. Where she whispered in his ear, his doubts melted away. With each of her strides, he matched pace. Never did they say a word. Never did they need to. One look into her emerald eyes, eyes that were there and not there, said it all.
I love you Pyrrha, I love you and I will see you again, one way or another.
With his friends ahead, and his love beside and beyond, Jaune Arc kept on walking.
She sat on the camp bed, her head resting on her clenched fists. She gripped the unwound black bow tightly in her small hand, fighting back the tears that threatened to cascade loose from her bloodshot eyes. How many people had she failed because of this bow? How many people had she failed because she had hidden her identity? How many people had she failed because of the White Fang? And yet here she was, running as she always had, first from the madmen who had perverted everything she stood for, and now from the victims, the people she loved. She rose unsteadily to her feet, tossing the bow that had been her constant companion away from her in disgust. She dried her eyes with the back of her palm, and with the air of a confidence she in no way felt, Blake Belladonna strode out from her tent, and into the compound. Everywhere she looked, there was nothing but the same white uniforms that had haunted her, that had hunted her, for so long. The same scarlet, snarling emblem that stalked her nightmares like the predators it's fanatics modelled themselves on. She had run all her life, and it had carried her back here. But now she wasn't running, not the scared flight of a terrified alley cat. Now she had a mission, now she had something to walk towards, not away from, even if it meant that she was reduced to tears whenever prying eyes darted away. She reached the command tent and entered before she could muster a second thought.
He didn't look up, he didn't smile. She was glad, if he had, she might have killed him there and then. Instead, she swallowed her pride, muffled her pain, and stared into his eyes, and begged her defiance wouldn't show in her own, that it would be hidden behind the tears.
"Adam, what's the plan?"
Coming up next: Chapter 2 – The White Fang. This story will be updated regularly – work on chapter 2 starts tonight! Reviews are, as always, much appreciated! Many thanks, and hope you enjoy. Happy Valentines Day RWBY-lovers!
