Not Your Saint George
This is a work of fan fiction, created for entertainment purposes only and with no claim to the characters depicted. Ownership of RWBY characters and concepts belongs to Rooster Teeth. The World of Ere setting belongs to Landon Porter and Paradox-Omni Entertainment.
Dreams and Nocturnes
Dinner was a thick stew made by crumbling part of a rust-colored block Jaune assured Pyrrha was made from meat, fat, dry vegetables and spices pounded together to protect them from moisture into a pot of boiling water and adding some pieces of jerky. Slabs of hard travel bread and slices of waxy but delectable white cheese rounded out the meal alongside cups of water melted from the snow.
They started out eating silently, but Jaune couldn't seem to bear the quiet and soon tarted questioning Pyrrha about the accuracy of various stories he knew, which necessitated him telling her said stories. Most of them were wild exaggerations at best and it made Pyrrha's head spin that humans could twist their understanding of beings they fought side-by-side with in just three quarters of a century.
She in turn explained some basic truths (yes, a dragon's breath weapon was determined by their color, no they could not survive by eating gold and other minerals, no, they didn't have to eat virgins to grow larger) and then managed to move the conversation away from her species by telling a few stories she'd overheard while spying on travelers.
It didn't take very long for them to settle into comfortable and casual conversation about their favorite tales and why they liked them. Jaune, unsurprisingly, was partial to tales of gallant heroes doing battle with the forces of evil (he diplomatically picked out stories where those forces were demons or hailene or fey rather than dragons), while Pyrrha preferred stories where the day was won by guile and cleverness—and it didn't help if it involved a cheeky thief.
She eventually admitted to him that yes, most of the copper an silver from her hoard had been 'liberated' from camps that left their coin poorly guarded. How else was a young dragon supposed to build a hoard? Lend herself out as a firestarter?
Eventually, the sun was far gone behind the mountains and it was time to retire.
"It's not a very big tent, but if I shove the pack all the way to the back, we can both fit," Jaune said, kneeling by the open tent flap. "But... I've only got the one bedroll..."
Pyrrha waved him off. "I will be fine. After all, I've slept mot nights of my life on a bed of blades and coins."
"Yeah, while you had scales." Jaune countered. "You've got flesh now, and the only thing between you and the cold, hard ground is going to be the tarp."
"And my clothing," she pointed out, unconsciously adjusting the collar of the homespun shirt Jaune had lent to her. The clothes were a better fit than they'd expected, but the shoulders and neck of the shirt were cavernous on her to the point that one side of the other was constantly trying to slide off her shoulder. "...your clothing."
Shaking his head, Jaune tried again. "That's not really going to help. Trust me."
"I'll be fine, Jaune. As I said before, you've been more than generous with your food and the use of your cloak. Don't put yourself out for my sake." Deciding not to brook any further discussion, she crawled into the tent ahead of him and pushed the bedroll that was already there to one side, choosing instead to flop down on her stomach.
It took a lot of personal restraint not to squirm on the lumpy, cold earth that tarp barely protected her from, but she managed it, looking at him over her shoulder with as imperious a look she could muster. "See? I'll be fine."
She folded her arms in front of her and rested her chin on them, staring at the pack in front of here, which had been joined by her own bag. Meanwhile, Jaune disappeared for several minutes, finally returning sans armor and crawling into the bedroll.
Pyrrha was about to say something to him when a familiar, warm weight settled over her. She twisted around to find that he'd thrown the heat-preserving cloak over her.
"You're the creature of fire here." Jaune said, extinguishing the mage light that had been illuminating the tent until just then.
"Thank you."
Pulling his thick winter blanket over himself, Jaune laid himself on his back,s taring at the roof of the tent in the dark. It baffled him that it was even possible for her to get cold seeing as even with the cloak thrown over her, she was still radiating warmth into the tent. "You're welcome." He paused, thinking, "I didn't think about how we've got two people to feed now. We're going to have to make for a town as soon as possible if we don't want to go without food. Unfortunately, that means going to Sol Sadatta."
"I take it there's something wrong with that town?" He looked over to find that he could vaguely see two green circles where he knew Pyrrha's eyes to be. The brightest flecks of green in her eyes were literally illuminated, it seemed.
"Something wrong with the hearts of the people if you ask me. They use dark anima like my grandmother did, but... worse."
"How so?" the dragoness pressed.
He hesitated, not even liking describing the practices of Sol Sadatta. "They raise their dead and the dead of anyone that attacks the place and make their skeletons serve them. All the manual labor; the farming, the cleaning, the defense of the town... it's all done by the enslaved dead. The villagers say they all volunteered to be raised up that way, but that doesn't matter, it's an abomination."
"I thought you were a worshiper of Denaii." Pyrrha sounded sleepy.
"Well I am, but it doesn't mean we kick dirt in the faces of the other gods. Especially not Sylph. We are farmers, after all and we need her touch for a good harvest. Sol Sadatta uses the things she hates most to pluck her bounty—it's a wonder they have crops at all at this point."
A yawn, and then, "We can bypass them if you want. I can hunt. Or I can got into the town alone if they bother you so much."
He squinted at those green circles, which were disappearing and reappearing as their owner struggled to keep her eyes open. "They don't bother you?"
"I have no feelings one way or the other about the undead—except that they are disgusting."
"Well ye... you're talking about disgusting to eat, aren't you?"
Pyrrha let out a soft, musical laugh. "I suppose every dragon makes the mistake of trying to eat a zombie one. But only once."
It was that point that he realized she wasn't going to take him seriously on this matter. "Goodnight, Pyrrha."
"Goodnight, Jaune." she was asleep and snoring softly in seconds.
For his part, Jaune spent some time longer staring at the dark ceiling, trying no to think of shambling skeletons holding scythes or a horse-sized red dragon with a rotting human armed clutched in her teeth. Eventually, he passed into slumber as well.
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He opened his eyes to light.
No, more accurately, everything in the tent seemed to be glowing with its own inner light, which was more white than anything he'd ever laid eyes on. The tent itself, the tarp, the bedroll, his pack, Pyrrha's bag—everything glowed with its own brilliance without being blinding.
What was more, he seemed to be able to see every detail of them if he even so much as glimpsed them. He knew every stitch used to patch the tent, every scuff and scratch on the pack. Now that he thought of it, he knew the exact temperature of the air.
He was also aware of the soft hum that came from everything and seemed to resonate somewhere inside him that was deeper than mere organs like his heart.
Confused, he scrambled out of the bedroll and out of the tent.
The campsite was awash in light as well, with the wall of his veil almost opaque instead of invisible. Even Gasten was glowing. But the fire pit... the fire pit was a geyser of light and crackling energy the formed a pillar to the sky and beyond, somehow ten thousand times more brilliant than everything else, but still not blinding.
And running up it center, in almost shameful incongruity of the power and beauty of literally everything else in his world, Jaune spied a plain, white ribbon. It might have been silk or satin, but it lacked the glow of the rest of the world even as it fluttered gently at the heart of the pillar of light.
Somehow, Jaune found himself drawn toward that above everything else, stumbling from the tent to the fire, only stopping when he realized that the pillar of light extended downward as well, leading infinitely down into the heart of the world.
Even seeing that, however, couldn't distract him from the ribbon. A shaking hand extended out into the scintillating pillar and closed around the impossibly soft cloth. It felt like warmth on the emotional level, and joy and hope, and lightness he hadn't felts since he was a child. Belonging. The ribbon made him feel part of something, as if he mattered for the first time in his memory.
Before he knew it, the ribbon was coiled around his hand and up his arm. It pulled against him and suddenly he was falling through the world, falling in a shaft of silvery light that sang around him.
And it did sing. Not just the individual hums of everything around him before, but all of them—all the hums and songs and words of everything ever. All in harmony, becoming a oneness he hadn't imagined existed. Not just a song: the Song.
In his mind, a description formed. A single Word that could encompass the Song, could give meaning to the all above all. It formed and then fragmented, shattering apart in his mind even as he came to understand its importance if not its meaning.
The Word and the Song. They surrounded him in a nimbus, permeated his being and resonated with something already inside him. The ribbon became warm in his hand...
And Jaune woke up. It was like no awakening he'd ever experienced. He was dreaming one moment and then the next, his eyes opened and he was staring at the tent as illuminated by the first rays of the sun. He was refreshed and alert and there was no sign of grogginess or the aches of sleeping on a thin bedroll on the ground at all.
He sat up, noting he was alone in the tent.
Just how much of this had been a dream? Surely, everything glowing and humming was a dream, but did he really meet a dragon that transformed into a beautiful woman and agree to travel with her to rob Lord Citraan?
Or was he just waking up on what was probably going to be the last day of his life, about to try and face down a monster from nightmare armed with an antique magic sword whose enchantment he knew nothing about and a largely untested ability to sometimes get people to do little things he wanted?
One of those sounded insane and the other... well they were both insane.
He rose and crawled out of the tent. The first thing that greeted him was his magic cloak, folded neatly and laid out on a clear patch of ground with his spare clothed folded on top of it. Curious, seeing as he usually covered himself with the cloak at night and kept his spares in his pack unless he needed it.
Still puzzling over that, he looked toward the fire pit and found-a horrifying conflagration. Slender branches from several of the nearby trees seemed to have been ripped down and arranged in a large circle that spilled out of the fire pit and had been lit ablaze, forming a six-foot tall wall of flame that seemed to be contained by a rudimentary ritual.
Dumbstruck, Jaune approached the bonfire, wracking his brain as to where it had come from. When he was close enough to feel the intense heat and see through the flame to the center, he got his answer.
"Is that some one in... Gah!"
The previous day had not been a dream., though the current day might be. Because he was looking through a roaring fire at Pyrrha Nikos, curled up on her side with her hair fanned out around her, a serene, angelic look on her face—while sleeping nude in the heart of a fire.
He'd heard of salamanders, the little beast that lived and thrived in flames, and even the faint rumors that not flame ever conjured, even the legendary Azure Seed of Destruction could burn a red or gold dragon. But seeing it in person while said dragon was... or at least resembled a person was something entirely different.
His outburst didn't go unnoticed, however, and Pyrrha cracked an eye open, picking him out lazily beyond the flames before giving a yawn and stretch. "Good morning, Jaune." she said as if she wasn't in the middle of a swirling hell-storm.
"G-good morning." Jaune said, looking away as quickly as possible.
After staring at him in confusion for almost a full minute, Pyrrha deduced that he lack of attire might be the problem. "Oh, I'm sorry." She gestured to conjure up her illusory clothing only to have nothing happen. "She blinked. "Um..."
"I-it's the fire." Jaune replied, having observed from the corner of his eye.
"Hmm?"
"A sight illusion uses akua to turn water vapor in the air into tiny prisms and mirrors to alter light. B-but in a fire, there's no water vapor and barely and akua. So... illusions fail."
Pyrrha ducked her head in embarrassment. She knew that, but then again, she'd just woke up, so she really shouldn't be blamed. "Oh. Well then..." She let out a long exhale through her mouth and then breathed in deeply through her nose. The flames wavered, then all rushed toward her, drawn into her nostrils in an impressive reverse of the typical dragon/fire interaction.
The fire leapt from the logs along with streamers of rippling air as the very heat itself was torn away. Soon the fire was out and in place of glowing embers, frost was forming on the charred wood.
Jaune gawked openly now, but not at what he'd been afraid to gawk at earlier. "Was that a heat stealer?"
"Yes it was. Just because I specialize in ferif spells doesn't mean I don't also know how to play with my native fire." Pyrrha pointed out, casting her illusion successfully this time. Stepping over the frozen remnants of her bonfire, she greeted him with a bright smile. "Now then: good morning again. Did you sleep well?"
"I... woke up feeling really good actually." he said, still staring at the fire pit. Had she already built that fire when he dreamed of it being a tunnel of light?
"That's nice to hear," she said, walking past him. "I... well you were right about the tarp. It didn't keep the cold from coming up from the ground, and your cloak could only do so much."
"We need to get you blankets as soon as possible then," Jaune reasoned, gesturing to the fire pit. "We can't do that every night. Not just because we'd strip the entire forest, but because my veil? It only goes up about thirty feet."
Pyrrha was already dragging his pack out of the tent, keenly searching for more jerky. "I can make due, I promise. We don't have to go to that town if you would rather not."
"It's not a question of what I want, it's what we need." Jaune said soberly as he knelt with her and started unpacking supplies for breakfast, namely a bag of ground wheat for porridge, some dried fruits, and jerky, which Pyrrha eagerly snatched from him. "First order of business of course, is getting off this mountain. From there... I suppose we cross Horth's Bridge and make for The Town the Dead Serve."
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AN: I'm now up to episode six of Spice and Wolf and it's kind of maddening how close my concept for this story looks like that show. It also makes me wish I gave Pyrrha ears. Sad Holo is adorable.
We're almost off the mountain, I swear. Jut one action set-piece and we're home free.
Sol Sadatta is... well I'll talk more about it when we get to ti, but it's one of my major problems with D&D and related fiction. Let's just say it was a conscious decision to make this one of the things they don't agree on. Also, being nasty to eat is honestly the only way zombies work. Though I hate zombies as a monster, so I'd be okay watching a horde being ripped apart by flocks of vultures and ravens while insects and bacteria turn them to immobile bags of goo within a week.
It also gives me an excuse to introduce a little of Ere's religion. Jaune worships a pantheon, Pyrrha... dragons a complicated. They were straight up servants of the gods before screwing up and now some of them maintain literal cults of personality. So the know objectively that the gods are there, but out of shame or arrogance, they don't worship. Not shown here, but there are small gods, because the world is leaking soul-stuff and believing hard enough can just make a god. Because I'm a Discworld fan and turning that idea serious appeals to me.
And then there's the dream. Speculate away, O readers of mine. You guys usually come up with interesting theories.
Also, I finally remembered why I made her red! Because fireproof. Also, there is nothing more badass then taking a nap in the center of a raging fire. Also, Pyrrha gets to show off another aspect of the magic system: cold spells are based on ripping the heat out of things. I actually don't have an explanation as to where that fire went, so you guys can come up with ideas. Maybe she shouldn't be as hungry after that?
Anyway,t hanks for reading, and if you'd like to read some of my original Fantasy and Superhero fiction, you can check out my site at descendantsserial DOT paradoxomni DOT com or look for Rune Breaker wherever other fine ebooks are sold.