Disclaimer: For those who aren't entirely aware, I do indeed live in Texas. Due to Hurricane Harvey, there's a chance I may be called to assist in relief efforts (personally, I'm fine, and my family is okay for the moment). In the event of that happening, I will not be able to post, and I'm not sure how much notice I'll get if I do get called. So, if I miss an update, assume that's what happened and I'll be back to my regular schedule as soon as possible. Oh, and though I generally don't do this, warning: Yang will be reliving some moments from the war with Atlas here. I focus more on the emotions than the graphic depictions, but sometimes it couldn't be helped. If you're especially sensitive to that sort of thing, proceed with caution; the mentions are relatively brief.


Yang froze, the bowl halfway to her lips shaking enough to splash a bit of broth onto her leather vest and lap. She hardly registered it, her gaze shifting to her wife and searching for something, though she wasn't sure what. There was nothing but cautious curiosity in those blue eyes, and she could tell that all it would take would be a gruff response from her for the conversation to be dropped entirely. "Who told you?"

"Your father," Weiss replied, setting her empty bowl aside. "He told me to ask whenever we came to the clearing again." She folded her hands in her lap, squaring her shoulders. "I shouldn't have-"

"No." The blonde growled and raised a hand, a heavy sigh escaping her lips a moment later. She should've known her father would catch on to what she'd been doing since they returned from war. While she didn't like that he'd chosen this way to confront her about it, keeping the story from her wife would do no one any good. "It's alright. It's just… hard." Yang busied herself with setting aside their bowls and bottles, forcing herself to swallow down the last wonton. "You deserve to hear the story. But…" She paused, grabbing the cloth she'd used to pack up their lunch while she searched for the right words. "I think…"

A small hand laid on her forearm, drawing her attention up to Weiss' soft, encouraging smile. She'd started seeing the expression more since they exchanged forgiveness and it stoked the fluttering butterflies that had taken up residence in her stomach ever since it looked like the woman might kiss her, might want to be kissed by her. "Take your time."

Those two little words spoken in crisp Valen were all she needed to steady herself, covering her wife's hand with her own and grounding herself in the moment. "Thank you." A small, grateful smile curled her lips as she switched back to her mother tongue. It seemed only fitting. "Follow me. There's something I have to show you."

They both got up, the blonde leading the way towards one specific little deer path on the north side of the clearing, stopping only to move aside a piece of bark from one of the trees to reveal a little cubby hole she'd carved out years ago. Within were sticks of jasmine incense, little oranges Junior had sent to her from the mainland, and a stack of papers with Valen prayers written on them. She pulled out four of each before replacing the bark, mentally making a note to ask for more sheets when next she was called to one of the temples. It couldn't be much longer until the summons arrived, anyway. Setting the items inside the cloth, she tied it to her belt before continuing.

"I, uh, I think it's better to start from the beginning." Yang kept her eyes on the trail as they started moving, hoping the focus would keep her voice steady. Truthfully, she could follow it in her sleep, and spent more than one moonless night out in the woods when sleep eluded her. "My family's history, well, it's yours now, too."

"If you feel comfortable, I'll listen," Weiss replied, offering her a chance to turn back, set the whole thing aside for another day. She had no doubt the Atlesian would let her do it, too, and it was a thoughtful gesture, but her wife wasn't the only one prone to stubbornness when the situation called for it.

"Before the wars, my family were simple people. My grandpa was a woodsman, Dad was his apprentice, and it was their job to maintain the woods. They would cut down trees- the ones that were sick, or had grown too large, or were felled by storms- and plant news ones to replenish them. They'd take the wood into town, so everyone had some during winter for warmth and to cook- an honest living. Back then, the other clans would come to Patch to trade for rice and wood; we can plant all year and the trees here burn longer than those on the mainland. Some say the Maidens blessed us but it's just that the soil's better." She paused, trying to get her story back on track as they rounded a curve, her eyes catching on worn claw marks along the a tree to the side of the path. The weather and years had almost healed the bark but she had no doubt Zwei would mark his territory again once he returned. Whenever that was. Ruby probably wouldn't come home after her current quest ended; she'd find another cause to adopt, another soul that needed saving, and off she'd go again. Selfless and yearning for adventure- it could be a troubling combination. "Anyway, one year, the Branwen clan sent a group to Patch for trading, and Dad met who he swore was the prettiest woman he'd ever seen." Her lips curled up, remembering the light in her father's eyes when he told her the story. "Wild hair, burning eyes, a cocky grin- Raven Branwen was everything he wanted, and she seemed to like him. Even promised to return as often as she could with the traders, and she did. Every couple months, like clockwork. He begged Grandpa for a full year before the old man relented and went to talk to Yuanjia- our clan leader at the time. It took another two months but, eventually, Yuanjia and the Branwen clan leader reached an agreement, and the wedding was set for the summer of that year." A bitter chuckle escaped as they started to climb, the path turning steeper. "He swears they did it for love."

The path cut back and forth, forcing her to lean forward and towards her inside foot to keep her balance as the incline grew steeper. Finally, the deer path fell away to one cut by an ax, going straight up the hill; Taiyang had cut it himself years ago, carving out a path through the woods and to the cliff beyond. All along the way, little bushes dotted with white flowers lined the well worn trail, and the blonde stopped to pick one, turning to offer it to the woman behind her. She'd always liked them, even though they weren't colorful or big, and now she noticed they matched the shade of Weiss' hair rather well. Among other things.

Obviously paying close attention to Yang's telling, her wife reached out and accepted the gift silently, neither goading the blonde into continuing or trying to change the subject. Just… patiently waiting.

"You don't have to be so quiet." A frown touched her lips, lilac gaze falling to the dirt between them. She preferred coming out here alone- this would mark the first time since Ruby left that she'd had company- but having the extra set of footsteps ringing in the air and another, quiet breath of exertion as they moved along the steep path seemed… right, almost. Begrudgingly, she admitted she probably should've done this sooner.

"I wouldn't want to spoil the telling." Her wife spoke softly, somber and serious. Almost like she already knew how the story went, but she doubted anyone had told the woman. "But I suppose things didn't go to plan."

"They did… and then they didn't," she replied, turning around and continuing up the path. "They were wed, just as they'd planned- and, well, in the Atlesian way, too." Thankfully, Weiss made a noise of understanding behind her; she'd' always felt a little weird thinking about that part of the story. "But, the next morning… Raven was gone. Took her sword, left his ax, and disappeared- not even the Branwens know where she went." She lifted her arms and shoulders up in a shrug, releasing the tension and letting her palms slap against her thighs. "Or so they say, anyway."

The footsteps behind her stopped, a quick breath drawn between the woman's teeth. "Yang, I-"

"Don't." She paused, looking over her shoulder and offering a small smile- the best she could muster, all things considered. It didn't take any divine powers to guess where the Atlesian's mind had gone upon hearing that, the memory of their wedding ceremony and the night following it never far from her mind, either. In those blue eyes, she could see the memory replaying- lithe fingers fiddling with unfamiliar buckles, trying to loosen them to pull the cestus from thin wrists. "You didn't know. You really couldn't have, Weiss, and things worked out differently for us. No reason to dwell on it."

"Still." Her wife furrowed her brow, obviously reigning in her desire to argue the point and only barely succeeding. Rather than cede the battle or wage it in its entirety, she lifted up her unoccupied hand, offering it towards the blonde. A wordless apology that Yang found herself unable to deny, taking a few steps back to slip her larger hand into the other woman's, interlacing their fingers. Silently, they made amends for the misunderstandings of that night, the trees stripped bare during fall bearing quiet witness. "How did your father take the news?"

"According to him, he was destroyed- and I think that's putting it lightly," she replied, shoulders sagging with the memory. "Wouldn't eat, couldn't sleep, he just sat around crying and blubbering gibberish, so Grandpa sent him to the Summer temple."

"That sounds a bit extreme." Weiss remarked, though her pale lips quirked into a small grin a moment later. "And vaguely familiar."

"Well, it's something of a legend that became a tradition, really." Yang explained, suddenly feeling a little sheepish. "When we're lost- physically, emotionally, spiritually- we turn to the Maidens for guidance, and the temples are where their presence resonates strongest. Sometimes, they show the lost the way ahead, and they return home to begin their lives anew, while others are welcomed into 'spiritual enlightenment' and stay at the temples." Lilac eyes slid to her wife, trying to offer a reassuring smile. "But the temples are the safest places in all of Vale; even during the clan war, no Valen would spill blood on such sacred ground. No harm would've come to you there, had you chosen to go."

"Comforting." The Atlesian lightly squeezed her hand. "But I'm rather content with the choice I made."

"I'm glad," she replied with a chuckle as they turned to continue up the path, the blonde found herself unwilling to let go of the slim hand clasped in hers as the two walked side-by-side. "And thankfully, Dad didn't take the second route, either. By the time he got to the Summer temple, though, he was weak and delirious; he collapsed on the temple's steps. Lucky for him, the Voice was there to catch him."

Weiss raised a brow. "The Voice?"

"Yeah, the head of the temple. They're said to be the 'Voice of the Maiden', and she was Summer's Voice. And they called her Summer, too." The blonde nodded, sniffling slightly as a cold wind blew through the trees. "See, she was born and raised at the temple, so they gave her the Maiden's name; to them, it was only a matter of time before she became the Voice, I guess. Dad says that when he finally opened his eyes and saw Summer for the first time, he could feel the Maiden's hand reaching into him and healing his heart." A beat. "I told him it was probably just the opium."

"You did not."

The chiding in her wife's voice brought a little smile to her lips. "I did. I thought it was funny and we all needed the laugh at the time." She kept her gaze on the ground. "But opium or not, she nursed him back to health, and he actually might've stayed at the temple if the message hadn't arrived." Briefly, she glanced at her wife, seeing that the little amusement at her poor joke had slipped back into rapt attention. "Shortly after he left, Grandpa passed away. I think seeing how hurt Dad was really tore at him, like he'd failed his son somehow… and considering the talking to Dad gave me when I got the proposal for our marriage, I can only imagine how hard Grandpa must've pushed back against him. Seeing himself proven right… I don't think it did well for his health, ya know?"

Caution appeared in the woman's voice again, as if she sensed where the story was heading. "So your father returned to Patch."

"Yeah, and Summer came with him. Offered to bless the burial- really, I think she just wanted to make sure he got home okay. She always looked out for other people like that- everyone called her Mother." Yang took a shaky breath as the two of them neared the top of the hill, and she stopped them for a moment to muster her strength. "Anyway, they hurried back here. Did the funeral rights. Laid Grandpa to rest. But she didn't trust Dad to take care of himself- he was almost as bad as when she first met him, by his accounts- so she insisted on staying with him at the house rather than bedding down in the tavern." She reached up and grabbed the orange fabric from around her neck. "He says they were halfway up the path when they heard the crying." Letting go of her wife's hand, she shook out the fabric, revealing the wear and tear over the years, the patches where holes had threatened to rip it to shreds and tiny, careful mends. "They ran the rest of the way and that's when they found me on the doorstep, wrapped up in this, half starved and wailing with everything I had left." Her hands curled into fists, though she remained mindful of the old fabric. Even after all these years, she couldn't bear to part with it. "Raven, she'd just… left me there. I guess she figured, if I was strong enough, I'd survive."

Her eyes squeezed closed as she forced back the tears that stung, always threatening to fall as she tried to imagine it- a babe just a month or two old, with nothing but a blanket to ward against the chill of the early spring night. Whether they were born of anger or pity, she really couldn't be sure, and for years she'd tried to understand what would possess a person to do that, what trials the woman must've faced to make the idea of leaving a child's survival up to fate the best option. It would be easy to just hate her- this mysterious Raven who disappeared into the night- but more than anything she just wanted to know why.

"Yang." Her gaze snapped up, seeing the concern freely playing across her wife's features. "It wasn't your fault."

The blonde blinked, for a moment entirely confused by the words. Guilt was something she'd become intimately familiar with over the course of the past several years but she'd never felt any regarding Raven. Whatever her birth mother's reasons for leaving her there at the doorstep, she'd abandoned Taiyang first, and she refused to feel remorse over the consequences of Raven's actions. No, she felt fury, unbridled rage at the shifting shadow in her mind's eye who had hurt her dad like that and had probably driven her grandpa to an early grave. Sadness, too, because she couldn't help but feel pity for someone so reckless and lost that they'd destroy so many lives- and one twice over- with their mistakes, yet lacked the courage to face the fallout.

She opened her mouth to express that but stopped just short. The blonde couldn't read everything about the other woman, but she could tell the Atlesian was at a loss. There was empathy shining in bright blue eyes and the downturn of her lips into a small frown, the crease of her brow, yet her wife seemed a bit unsure how to articulate it best. Instead of wasting time trying to find the perfect words for the situation, she'd spoken up with what first occurred to her, perhaps an unintended side effect of the difficulties with communication still fresh in both their minds.

Yang made a mental note to think about that next time she caught the woman staring off into the distance, when things seemed to weigh heavily on her mind.

"Getting left wasn't, you're right. I think I know that, deep down, but… it did change things for Dad. For Summer." The blonde sighed, gaze falling back down to the cloth in her hands.

The wind stirred the dirt around their feet and broke a thin branch overhead, sending it hurtling to land in one of the bushes with a subdued crash. Tentatively, Weiss put a hand on hers, barely touching the fabric. "Why did you keep it?"

"Mom insisted; honestly, I thought she'd made it when I was younger. She said I wouldn't go to sleep unless I had it in the crib with me and then it became my favorite blanket. I… didn't grow out of it until I was older." She lifted it up, wrapping it back around her neck. "Then, she'd do this whenever it got close to winter, so I wouldn't be cold. Some habits stick, I guess." With a sigh, the blonde nodded towards the end of the path just ahead of them. "When I say Mom, I mean Summer… Dad says she took one look at me and she just got this light in her eyes. The next morning, she went straight to Yuanjia, demanded a marriage, and sent a letter back to the Summer Temple telling them she wouldn't be returning. She married Dad and raised me as her own daughter- best mom any kid could ask for, really. Two years later, Ruby was born, and… well, we were a family. A happy one."

Finally, they emerged from the path, opening onto a small clearing that dropped off into a sheer cliff. Beyond it sprawled the fields her people used for growing crops and grazing the few animals they kept on the island- a small herd of cows, oxen, and a few horses. The forest circled the neatly divided areas, reaching to the foot of the lone mountain on their island that struck towards the sky like a sword's tip, the jagged edge obscuring a hollowed hole. It wasn't terribly deep, as she'd found out once she was strong enough to scale the rocky side of the mountain on her own, but the stench kept the villagers and birds alike away.

However, her gaze wouldn't focus on the scenery beyond the cliff's edge a mere thirty feet away. Instead, lilac eyes fell on the worn but well tended shrine built near it, the white paint chipping off the curled edges of the roof. Carved into a stone they'd hauled up from the shore was a rose, with the characters 'Thus Kindly I Scatter' etched beneath it- from her mother's favorite poem. Set above the emblem stone was a small prayer box decorated in the traditional manner for the villagers of Patch with a little flare thrown in to reflect the lands far to the south, where the Summer Maiden's temple stood, and at the base sat the offering tray.

"This was her favorite spot." The urge to cry returned and, this time, no doubts existed as to the cause. Guilt and sorrow pressed down on her shoulders, threatening to make her knees buckle, but she stood tall, forcing the words out despite how heavy they felt on her tongue. "She would bring us here after lessons to meditate. Sometimes, we'd bring food and have a picnic- she used to make these sweet cookies whenever Ghira and Kali brought us chocolate and she somehow could make it last until we got more no matter how long it took, but they always tasted so good." Yang drew in a deep breath, fighting to center herself. "We'd sit here for hours, until the sun set and the stars came out, and she'd tell us all the stories about the Maidens, and the old heroes, and anything else we asked about. Sometimes, I think she made up a story if we asked about something and she didn't know, but they were daring and exciting and funny… Mom always knew how to make us laugh."

Now that they'd reached the shrine, the wind seemed to die completely, as if knowing better than to intrude upon the moment. It always seemed to stop when she came out here, which just amplified how lonely it felt talking to the immovable stone that could never truly represent the woman buried beneath it. Ruby used to come with her, before she dashed off on her errand that never seemed to end, and Dad… he would never say anything, just stare silently beside her, so she stopped asking. He came out when he had the strength- the ashes told her as much- but if he had any words for Mom, they weren't for her to hear.

"I'm sorry, Yang." Her wife broke the silence gently, setting a hand just above her elbow. "Losing a mother twice over-"

Her gaze snapped to the side, eyes tinged red as fury overtook her and sent a cloud of steam billowing through the air. Not directed at Weiss- technically, not directed at anyone but those long dead, or close enough- but it surged forth regardless. "Raven was never my mother." She spat, immediately recognizing her mistake when the Atlesian recoiled, the concern formerly pinching her brow smoothing out into that nigh inscrutable mask she still donned from time to time. A deep breath and a heavy sigh later, the blonde continued in a softer tone, hesitantly reaching out to touch the woman's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I just… I didn't know about my birth mother until after Mom died. That was when it felt like I'd lost her all over again- finding out that she took me in after I was abandoned… I had so many questions that I could never ask her." Slowly, tension bled from her wife's form, the mask falling away as a hundred questions flashed across blue eyes. They remained locked away though and she felt horrible for her outburst, cringing as she continued to probably make matters worse. "Did you ever hear about a large battle during the initial invasion? Almost three years ago, along the eastern shore- it was the largest group of Atlesian warships I'd ever seen."

Recognition sparked in the woman's eyes as she nodded. "We called it the Blitzkrieg. Our attempt to overpower Vale's forces by invading with a purely offensive strategy."

Their only attempt. It went unsaid but Yang had seen and heard enough reports to realize the profound impact that single battle had on the course of the war.

"Dad was hurt during the fighting and we thought his chi wouldn't be enough to save him. So he told me the truth just in case and…" Her temper flared again as she grit her teeth, fighting to keep her voice level and steady. "I got so angry. Up to that point, I thought I at least had a piece of Mom still with me, as part of me, the same blood running through our veins, but to find out we weren't even related? It was like losing her again, and worse than before. On top of that, I thought I might lose my dad, Ruby and I had gotten separated during the fighting- it was like everything got ripped away from me all over again." She pulled her hand away, raising both in front of her and clenching them into tight fists. "But I was stronger that time. I wasn't going to just let it happen, not without fighting tooth and nail to stop it."

The whole battle existed as a red tinged haze in her memory. No pain, no exhaustion, no sensation at all- just a fury that pushed her to keep moving, keep punching, keep shattering breastplates and shields, rip apart wood and metal alike with her bare hands, all while she was ensconced in the red hot flame of her chi. When she finally regained her senses, the Atlesian fleet lay shattered in the bay, charred wood surrounding holes as the ships sunk and motionless bodies were scattered across the beach among twisted metal. Junior limped along beside her, nursing a stitch in his side from trying to keep up, and every other Valen fell to their knees when she approached, whispering about the Maiden's blessings. That was the first time the clan leaders called her their Queen- the Dragon of Patch.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the way Weiss watched her, as if coming to terms with something she'd known all along. Yang wasn't a fool; she'd heard the Atlesian soldiers' interpretation of the battle- those who'd survived, anyway. Somewhere in the back of her mind, her wife had to have some deep rooted opinion of the blonde, formed during a time when the warrior's name sparked terror among even the most battle hardened of Atlas' troops. She stiffened immediately when her wife moved, worried that fear, disgust, or contempt might force the woman to take a step back, but instead the Atlesian approached her, though she didn't reach out to make contact.

"Yang." The smaller woman waited until lilac eyes met her own gaze before continuing. "You did what you had to, to protect your family and your country. It was war, and one you didn't start."

"I know," she replied, shrugging. "I offer prayers when I can, so their spirits might find peace, and we sent the survivors back to Atlas once they were strong enough to sail, but I don't feel wrong for fighting as hard as I did." Glancing down, she thought of the scars currently hidden by her clothes and shivered, more from having forgotten her cloak than the brief flash of memory that entered her mind- being soaked in blood, but only some of it hers. Whatever she did while lost to the all consuming might of her fury had kept her chi from blocking the attacks aimed at her, allowing axes and swords and at least one spear to pierce her skin, though no single cut sank deep enough to pose any danger. It still took her weeks to heal, though, and Ruby spearheaded the Valen defense in her stead; she recovered quicker from her injuries than the shock of being unanimously declared ruler over the whole country. Redirecting her attention to the Atlesian, she furrowed her brows and spread her hands. "If peace was an option at the time, I would've taken it. We all would have- we'd lost enough during the clan war. I didn't want to lose anyone else."

A few moments of silence passed between them, the blonde unsure as to what thoughts hid behind those blue eyes. She thought perhaps resentment might rise, or maybe fear like the brief flash she'd seen in the clearing as a response to Yang's demonstration, but instead she saw a solemn sort of understanding eventually overtake the woman's countenance. "You did the best you could, given the circumstances."

Yang frowned, unwilling to believe that was the end of it. "Aren't you mad?"

"Should I be?" The Atlesian raised a brow. "There was a time when I was very angry, yes. That battle stood as the single greatest loss in Atlas' history- in Mantle's as well. It demoralized our soldiers, and within our kingdom's borders, it eroded the trust our people had in my father's ability to rule. His temper became shorter, his strategies more desperate, his judgement less sound- it would only be a matter of time before the continued losses from the war and the hardships placed upon the commoners resulted in a coup." Weiss shook her head, scowling at the ground for a moment. "He was a fool. He could've had peace any time he desired, but that's never what he wanted. He wanted power, and when it looked like he couldn't have more, he wanted to retain what he had. So he offered me up- a sacrifice to protect himself, that he might continue to live in luxury while I came here, presumably to be treated as little more than a slave. A war trophy, to bend to your every whim." Her expression turned even more sour. "It's certainly how things would've gone, were they the other way around."

"That's not true." She frowned, taking a step forward and setting a hand on the woman's shoulder to pull her away from the dark turn her thoughts had taken. "You might've tried at the start to please your father, ordered me around a little, but I don't think you'd do it for yourself." The blonde's lips quirked into a smile. "You have a kind heart; it wouldn't be long until you fought tooth and nail for everyone to treat me with just as much respect as anyone else."

"You have more faith in the quality of my character than I do," Weiss replied, running a hand through her bangs.

"Well, yeah; I can see more of you than you can." She waited until her wife looked up at her, blue eyes searching for the sense in her statement. "Unless you carry a mirror around with you, I guess. Although, you'd need two to see behind you really well-"

"You oaf." The Atlesian shook her head in dismay, trying to hide the small smile at Yang's ridiculous joke, which prompted a chuckle from her.

"But seriously- we look at ourselves differently from how others see us." Carefully, she slid her hand across tense shoulders, wrapping an arm around the smaller woman and pulling her closer. Her smile spread wider when her wife neither tensed up nor pulled away, instead seeming to lean into the contact. She wasn't sure who was more comforted by that. "Things would've been different had I gone to Atlas. I'm not sure how I would've survived the winters there; I heard that the snow can come up to your waist!" Craning her neck, she brushed a soft kiss against white locks. "But I'd like to think I've gotten to know you pretty well in the past few months, Snowfall. You would bend to your kingdom's rules, but only for so long. You care so much about being good to people. That's why you stayed, isn't it? To give me a chance?"

Weiss hummed, offering only a single word in response. "Perhaps."

The blonde couldn't tell if that was meant to be an acquiescence to her point or an answer to her question. In the end, it didn't matter; trading what-ifs would do neither of them any good. She spent far too much time doing that, anyway.

They remained silent for a while, not even the wind intruding on the moment. Slowly, as if expecting a reprimand or perhaps out of hesitation, the Atlesian moved her arm, settling her hand on Yang's hip, and the two of them stared out at the scenery together. She could remember the last time she'd looked at the island beyond the shrine from this vantage point and so much had changed, yet, stayed the same over the intervening years.

"Your mother died during the clan war."

"Yes," she replied, clearing her throat to keep her voice steady. Already, she could feel the guilt and sorrow rushing back, but she tramped down on it as best she could while raising her other arm and pointing. "You see the shoreline from here, yeah? Between those trees?"

"I can."

"We'd stayed out of the war at first. Yuanjia said there was nothing to be gained from infighting, and he was right- we were happy and safe on the island. Until we weren't." She took a deep breath. "Mom had brought us up here for a picnic when Ruby saw them. Four boats, filled with warriors, and Mom just knew. She looked at us and said 'be strong, be swift. Find your father, warn the villagers, and stay safe. I love you both; now go. And don't look back.'" Tears pricked at her eyes. "Then she ran towards the shore, staff in hand. Ruby and I… we did our best. We ran back as fast as we could- I climbed the tower and beat the drum myself. Ruby found Dad as he was coming back from the market, told him what she saw and where to go. Half the village ran out with him." She couldn't hold them back any longer, squeezing her eyes shut as the tears rolled down her cheeks. "They got there too late. Mom- she stopped them, every single one of them. But… she…"

In her mind's eye, she could see it still: everyone coming back with their heads bent, her dad screaming at the sky and crying while carrying a motionless figure in his arms, wrapped up in a blood stained white cloak. Ruby didn't understand back then and she barely did: Mom was gone, back to the Maidens- no more bedtime stories, no more cookies in the afternoon, no more playing hide-and-seek in the forest. She'd clung to her little sister then, tried to keep her back even as she'd squirmed, reaching out for their parents. The blonde had held tighter, though, because it looked like their dad would fall to the ground at any minute, like the moment he laid Mom down, he would lie down beside her and never get up.

Her hiccuping sobs were only interrupted when Weiss pivoted, wrapping her other arm around the blonde's waist and holding her as she cried. This was the only place she could allow herself to break down; something in Dad had snapped that day, and it took weeks to mend, but someone had to look after Ruby in the meantime. So, she'd stayed strong, just like Mom told her. She let her anger keep the sadness and guilt in check, wearing a mask far too severe for a child her age, and she did her best to be there for her sister. Then things just… got away from them, and she had to trade her anger for patience as she became the person everyone looked to for guidance.

"I wish I'd been stronger back then." The whisper left her lips between sobs, just as it did hundreds of times before as she stood before the shrine. "I could've gone with her, if I'd taken down just one-"

"She was your mother, Yang." A slim hand cupped her cheek, redirecting her gaze just enough so she could see her wife's face. "No matter what, she would've given her life to protect you. She loved you."

She sniffled, leaning into the comforting touch even as she fought down yet another sob. "But I miss her."

"Of course you do." Weiss gave her a smile. "You're a good daughter."

Her eyes shut tight as she shook, unable to contain herself any longer and nearly collapsing as everything coalesced. Her knees buckled suddenly, her weight briefly falling against her wife, but the woman held steadfast with one arm around her waist and the other over her shoulder, their height difference reduced as the blonde struggled to regain her feet. Tears poured down Yang's face as she clung to the smaller frame supporting her, the cold biting at her cheeks a distant thought she paid no mind. The inferno that burned whenever she came up to the shrine- her guilt, her anger, her loss, her mistakes- quietly slid away with every hiccuping breath, every drop that splattered onto white locks as the Atlesian's chi reached into her, calming the flame. It wasn't like being doused by reality, forced to shove all her burning anger back into a box until next she needed it so she could focus on whatever demanded her attention, placing her own emotions further down the list of priorities to help another, no; this felt more like the small hands rubbing soothing circles into her back and hip, the cool forehead pressed against her neck. A gentle coaxing towards calm with wordless reassurance that eased her pain.

Once the initial deluge passed and she could support her own weight, something unexpected engulfed her: relief, a cleansing sort of peace she hadn't felt in far too long. She kept her knees bent, not wanting to break the embrace yet even as Weiss' words replayed in her mind while her sobs began to slow. Despite being softly spoken, there was a confidence bolstering them, and that resonated with something deep within the blonde. She couldn't quite forgive herself- not yet, not after years of replaying those memories and thinking of all the different ways things could've gone, each triggered by an action she could've taken- but her wife didn't seem keen on holding her accountable for those mistakes, those errors of fate that had brought them to this point. That… well, it was something, and she appreciated it.

After a few more minutes, Yang composed herself, using the orange cloth to wipe her face as she caught her breath, chest stuttering as the crying subsided completely. She felt lighter than she had in years, but weary as well- the sort of soreness one got from carrying a heavy load that couldn't be felt until the burden was set aside. A watery smile came to her lips when she looked at the Atlesian, who was patiently waiting for her to come back to her senses with those blue eyes shining like freshly polished gemstones.

"Thank you." She couldn't be sure what she was more grateful for- the support, the calm, the peace, the kindness- and the words didn't seem to hold nearly enough to convey all of that, but other means escaped her at present. Weiss opened her mouth, probably to wave off her gratitude, but seemed to think better of it at the last moment and merely nodded. Lilac eyes lifted, seeing the dense storm clouds in the distance; though the wind had died down, the sea would send them to the island soon enough, and they would be forced to retreat indoors to avoid the cold rain. "We should head back soon." She cleared her throat, trying to rid it of the thick strain. "But, I was going to talk to her, since we're up here. Would, uh… would you like to join me?"

Weiss raised a brow but nodded, slipping her hand into the blonde's once more. "Please."

The warrior lightly squeezed the digits, a silent thanks, before leading them over to the shrine. They stood in silence before it for a moment before Yang bowed her head in reverence, her wife copying the motion. From her belt, she pulled the bundle she'd hurriedly packed earlier, kneeling down at the shrine's base to begin. First, she placed the oranges in the offering plate, with three on the bottom and the fourth set atop the others, and she wished she'd brought some sugar with her to sprinkle over them but resolved to simply do so next time. Next, she set the bases of the incense sticks in the four little grooves carved into the stone's base and pinched the exposed ends, drawing upon the fire in her chest to ignite them. Usually, smoke rose in the blink of an eye, her chi boiling far too close to the surface whenever she came to visit her mother's shrine and making a flintstone unnecessary, but today it took a few seconds of concentrated effort to call forth the necessary spark. Fleetingly, she recalled the worry that had driven her to leave the warmth of their bed so early in the morning, that the incident with Blake had left scars she couldn't see, wounds she hadn't yet attended, and that the closeness that came so easily to them when in the clearing might reveal what she had left to do before the incident could be well and truly behind them. However, as smoke slowly began to rise from each stick, Yang felt confident that only time could do more than they'd already done to heal the both of them; she doubted they could've shared the morning and afternoon as they had otherwise. Finally, she crushed each of the prayer papers into loose balls before setting them in the shrine's message box, stepping back to rejoin her wife once the preparations were complete.

She took a deep breath, inhaling the jasmine scent now curling in the air, lending a new fragrance to the sharp bite of winter. Although opposites by nature, her mom had always held a healthy respect for the Winter Maiden's season, silver eyes watching the freezing storms through the window as she spoke of ancient legends before tucking them in at night. It seemed only fitting for the weather to cooperate in turn, the wind remaining silent and the far off clouds lingering at a distance.

"Hey, Mom. I know it's been a while; I meant to come out a few days ago, but things got a little hectic. You know how it goes. Never enough hours in the day, right?" She shifted, a little lost now that she didn't immediately feel the need to offer apologies and air her regrets, always a hair's breadth away from begging forgiveness from the silent stone bearing her mom's emblem. After incorporating Jianhuren- the ancient dragon, etched in her signature yellow- to the design of her flaming heart, she'd thought about somehow incorporating a rose, too, but decided to leave that to Ruby. "It looks like it's going to be another hard winter; you always said that the gentler the Summer Maiden treated us, the harsher the Winter Maiden would, to remind us to be diligent. I used to hate it but I think I'm a little grateful this time around. I'm pretty sure my wife is enjoying the colder weather." She glanced at her side, where Weiss stood watching the smoke rise up. What little tension had built in her shoulders at suddenly being at a loss for what to say slid away, smile widening. "Speaking of, I brought her with me today, Mom. After listening to me talk about her, well, now you get to meet her yourself. This is Weiss, of Atlas, the one and only."

The Atlesian quirked a brow up for a moment, seemingly confused, but recovered quickly and bowed at the waist. "It's an honor, Ma'am."

When her wife straightened up, Yang couldn't help but chuckle softly, her smile somehow stretching even wider. "See, Mom? Told you she's something else."

The wind lightly swirled around them, blanketing the two in jasmine smoke as the storm began its inexorable journey to the island.


Author's Note: First, Yuanjia is based on the folk hero of the same name, depicted by Jet Li in the movie Fearless. Although the events of the movie are somewhat fictitious (one of Yuanjia's rivals, for instance, actually helped the real Yuanjia set up the Wushu school), his story of standing against the Western powers is celebrated, so it seemed fitting to include him here. Next, by this point, I'm sure you're probably wondering why I started this with the 'M' rating when I haven't crossed into 'M' territory yet, eight chapters in. It's mainly because I don't agree with having a fic rated with the current content when the author knows it will change ratings later down the line, so consider this the baseline. Later in the story, scenes will be more graphic and the 'M' rating will be entirely justified, but the style of focusing more on emotions than physical actions will be consistent. You'll likely see the scenes coming but there probably won't be chapter-by-chapter warnings.