A/N

"Clementine, what happened?" you might be wondering. "What's with the late update?"

The answer to that question, my friends, is... I forgot.

No, really. I just forgot. It wasn't, like, a busy day or anything. I spent all day yesterday reading (really good) fan fiction then walking on a treadmill ('cuz I wanna be healthy n' stuff) and, well, this story never came to mind.

Speaking of story schedules, how do you guys feel if I were to update this story twice a week instead of once? I've already finished writing the whole thing, so there won't be any of that "sacrificing story quality to meet the deadline" thing. I don't know, though. Just spitballin' here.

CHAPTER 9

Blake's dad has never been this mad at her before. Granted, Blake herself has never done something as wild as throwing a chair ten seconds within meeting someone. Not in this world, at least.

Still, though. It unnerves her, like a green sky or a blue apple. Things shouldn't be like this.

Dinner is a quiet affair. Blake waits for the moment where her dad asks her what happened, or blows off to a tangent of how irresponsible she was. The moment never comes. He doesn't hug her when he says goodnight, which is expected, but still hurts.

I've really made a mess of things. How can she not, with Dragonheart being Dragonheart? If it were with anyone else, she would have regretted it.

A memory flashes through her, of a blurry yellow in the distance, with the moons as their only source of light, waving her hands animatedly, taking the Grimm worm's attention away from Blake. It was stupid, but it was to save her.

Then, a more recent memory takes its place, of Dragonheart—or rather, Yang—snarling at her the way Blake never wanted to be snarled at, the way she avoided being snarled at.

She shakes her head, and one more memory visits her. This one far older.

It must've happened about two to three years ago, because she remembered wondering when she'd get her driver's license. She was one of the newer recruits of Menagerie's army, but that didn't faze her. She couldn't let it faze her. She'd been training with her powers for as long as she could remember. She would prove that she was worthy to be her. That she deserved to be here, surrounded by other soldiers as they made camp.

So, she refused to think about these things. Because doing so would cause her to panic. And panic had no use here.

Instead, she thought of her driver's license.

"Hey, you," one of the soldiers said.

She looked up. "Yes?"

The man pointed to the woods crumpled together and the lack of fire coming out of it. He ordered her to fetch firewood. Eager to be useful, Blake said yes, then took off. She kept comparing one branch to the other, wanting to get the wood that would light up upon one flick of flint and steel. As the day grew darker, she wandered deeper into the woods, unaware of how far she'd gotten—

—not until she heard humming.

Humming. In the forest full of Grimm.

She didn't know it then, but Dragonheart was humming the tune to a catchy pop song—ones people played everywhere but whose title no one knew. Blake stopped, her heartbeat fastening. Maybe she knew, deep down, that no one from Remnant should know that song. Or maybe she was freaked out because someone was humming a song in the depths of the forest.

She investigated the source of the noise, pulling herself up onto a tree to avoid getting caught. After leaping from one branch to the other, she found Dragonheart, wiping the black goo away from her sword. The body of a Grimm wolf lay in front of her. It twitched and made the occasional growl, but Dragonheart didn't mind. After wiping the last of the black goo, she walked over, crouched, and pulled the head of the Grimm so it looked up at her.

Dragonheart smiled as she put her hand into the monster's mouth, away from Blake's view. A second later, the Grimm's head glowed a dull orange. Its twitching got more erratic as the glow brightened, spreading through its body.

BAM! The lion Grimm exploded.

Blake stepped back, the branch lowering underneath her weight. This person, whoever she is, is dangerous, Blake thought.

Everyone may have aura, but that doesn't automatically mean they have powers too. No one knows the factors that played a part in whether or not you gain powers. Some say it's genetic, but Blake believes it to be luck. Nothing else. Especially since neither of her parents have powers themselves. Granted, neither of them were ever interested in the fight between kingdoms, but even so.

So, for someone to not only have powers, but ones enough to annihilate Grimm without much effort? Strong doesn't even begin to cover it.

The black goo was all over the place, tainting the grass and dirt beneath, the nearest tree trunks, and, of course, Dragonheart herself.

Dragonheart groaned, wiping her face, then pulling her hair forward to inspect the damage. "Why did I think that was a good idea?" she asked herself.

Blake blinked, noting how strong her cheekbones were, and the way the moons' light reflected on her pale skin. She's beautiful, Blake thought, offhandedly. But there was something more to it than that. More than beauty and strength. Something that made her frown.

Blake took another step back, onto a lighter branch. It groaned under her weight, and Blake jumped into the darkness, creating a vague clone as a replacement.

"Who's there?" Dragonheart asked. Blake's back pressed against the tree, her heart in her mouth. The faintest of warmth grazed her skin, spreading through the air. Blake doesn't know why, but she risked a glance back.

The sight took her breath away.

It was Dragonheart, her hair blazing, her eyes glowing. She didn't create a fire. She was that fire. And she looked even more beautiful. Unfairly so.

Then, their eyes met, for one sliver of a second, and Blake ran back before Dragonheart could do much of anything.

When Blake returned, she told her general what happened, expecting for a battle soon. Instead, the general and the older soldiers looked at each other, face paling, then said they should find a new place to camp.

"But why?" Blake asked.

They gave each other another look. "The woman you saw—"

"Not a woman. A girl. She looked to be my age." And that was it. That was what bothered her.

"Right," the general said, rubbing his hands. "She's no mere girl. She's… There have been rumours brewing, of Vale's princess having a stronger aura than most."

"Ruby Rose?" That doesn't make sense, she thought. Why would the heir to the throne be out in the wilderness?

"Not her. The other one."

"There's another princess?"

"Yes. The Valeers call her Dragonheart."

Dragonheart. Blake repeated the name in her mind until it didn't sound strange anymore.

"And they say she's more powerful than most," he continued. "Her aura is twice as many as the aura of a normal person. Not to mention she's been trained for battle from such an early age by the best Vale has to offer."

"But… she's just a girl." Like me.

"Not just any girl," he said. "Rumour has it that she killed her first Grimm at the age of seven. Now, quick—" he turned to the others "—we must move."

Why? Shouldn't we attack her? She's one girl. A powerful girl, but one girl. Blake knew better than to ask questions, though. Back then, she hadn't been in the army for even a month.

The way these people reacted to Dragonheart shocked Blake, but also stirred something within her too. Jealous. She was jealous. Because Dragonheart was as old as she was, and likely as inexperienced as she was too when it came to being a soldier, yet she'd already made a name for herself. And for what? Being royalty? Having a powerful aura?

I want that. For her enemies to react that way upon hearing her name. It wasn't the fear that she was after, it was being recognised. Blake thought back to Dragonheart again, and something ugly stirred within her chest. You will know my name, Dragonheart. You and everyone.

Today, that vow has become her reality.

Blake has a hard time believing it, even as she wakes in her chamber in Remnant. It's smaller than the one back on Earth—the one called a room—but homier. The one back on Earth shouldn't be called hers yet, seeing how she hasn't lived in it for more than three days.

Blake pulls open the curtain. The sky is a light blue, with a hint of orange in the distance. So, it's morning. Maybe nearing the fourth bell, give or take. In the kitchen, her mom is half-way done with breakfast. The berries and nuts they've grown rests on the table, and her mom's stirring the stew, humming the tune of the bridgekeeper song. "Here, ma, let me help," she says, hovering near the pot. Her mom waves her off. "No, really. I'm fine, now."

Her mom smiles, then takes her hand. Blake puts her other hand on top of it, squeezing and smiling back. Something warm courses through her veins. It's her mom's aura. Her mom is healing her.

Scowling, Blake pulls back. She doesn't need to be healed. She's fine.

"Do you really have to work with the king?" her mom asks.

"I'm not just some other soldier now. I have complete access to the castle." I thought you'd be proud of me.

Her mother has never approved of her joining the war against Vale, but now that Blake's brought Dragonheart captive, she thought things would change. She thought her mom would stop fussing over her like she's inadequate.

Clearly, she was wrong to think that.

"I'm sorry, Blake, it's just…" Her mom's eyes trail away to the side. Blake knows what she's looking at without having to do so herself. "You're the only piece of him I have left."

Despite having seen the painting a hundred times, she never fails to be surprised every time she looks at it. Her father looks so different, and it wasn't just because of how young he was when that portrait was painted. His hair's long, tumbling down below his ear, and his face supports the beginning of a beard. He has a firm face, but that's because it's strange for people to smile when having themselves painted.

He looks nothing like the dad she has on Earth. Blake wonders if he acts so differently too.

Her gaze trails to the woman standing next to him. Like him, her mom's not smiling. She, on the other hand, looks exactly the same, whether it's on a painting, or a photograph back on Earth, or now.

Would she act the same as she does here were she alive on Earth?

Blake stops herself from spiraling. Some questions will always remain unanswered.

After breakfast and a hug for her mom, Blake takes off to the castle. People on the streets wave and greet her, like she's a celebrity. In a way, she is. Better than a celebrity, even. She's a hero. An actual hero.

People run up to her to congratulate her for taking down the enemy of humankind and the enemy of Menagerie.

A little girl tugs on her sleeve. Blake bends down, hoping her face looks friendly. "I wanna be as strong as you when I grow up," she says, with her little eyes and her little smile.

"Oh, uh, thanks." Blake tries not to stutter as she adds, "You can be better if… Hard work will get you anywhere."

It's an Earth saying, but one comprehensible for Remnant people. Blake scuttles away before the girl can do anything else. It's not that she hates kids, it's that she doesn't know what to do with the attention. She wanted this, she knew that, but she didn't expect things to be like this.

Not complaining, though.

Blake walks to the training field in the back of the castle. This is the place where soldiers gather together to discuss battle strategies. Once in a while, the king himself would take a stroll here. Every time that happened, everyone would try and catch a glimpse of him, to see if his looks matched the stories they've been told.

It does.

There's a round of whoops and cheers, with a crowd on the center of the field.

Blake walks closer to it, curious of the commotion. A swarm of dragons hover near them, and some try to bother her with its tiny teeth and tinier flames. She swats them away, then startles when many of the soldiers help her. The dragons disperse, and so do the soldiers, making way for her.

Blake's cheeks heat up. It'll be hard to get used to this, too; soldiers with more field experience treating her with respect. She will have to, if she intends on keeping her position. Which she does.

"What's all this?" She asks, gesturing to the two boys which they're crowding.

The first boy grins upon seeing her. "It's nothing, ma'am!"

Ma'am? She's at least a year older than he is. The second boy's grin is wider as he takes a step forward. "Oh, it's just—" he and the first boy share a look "—we may or may not have scared off an entire horde of Grimm wolf."

Blake blinks.

The first boy elbows him. "It's not an entire horde."

"It's close to an entire horde."

"It's more like four or five Grimm wolves."

They look at her, searching for something. "Uh," she says, "that's… that's amazing of you."

Their faces light up. Approval, Blake realises. They were looking for approval. From me.

"It was incredible!" The first boy says, his hand gestures spicing up the story. "We'd gotten a message from one of the outskirts saying that Grimm wolves were terrorising their home. When we got there, they up and went."

Blake blinks. "Just like that?"

They give her a strange look, because "just like that" isn't something people in Remnant say.

Nonetheless, the second boy nods. "Yes," he says, "they didn't even see us. They must've felt how strong our auras are."

She doubts that. Something else must've chased off these Grimm, but what? Grimm don't fear each other. Sure, one species may fight against another species—a behaviour similar to that of regular animals—but to run away? No. That's never happened before.

Unless it's another Grimm worm. There are little to no records surrounding that species, but what little records there are shows that when there's one Grimm worm present, there must be another one nearby. She (and Dragonheart) defeated one, but what about the other? Smaller species of Grimm may fear one as big as a Grimm worm. Even if Grimm isn't known to have fears.

You're overthinking this, Blake reminds herself. Yes. That must be it. Perhaps they are right, and the Grimm did, somehow, sense their presence and left. Perhaps they'd gotten distracted by a larger prey. If that's the case, someone should tell the one in charge to hunt down those hordes of Grimm wolves, in case they might be attacking a bigger village.

Wait. She's the one in charge now.

Wow.

A rush of euphoria washes over her.

Blake tells the soldiers her suspicions, and they nod and agree with her. Not one of them doubts her. More likely, they're afraid to show their doubt in front of her. Blake knows that should trouble her, but it adds to the giddiness. The boys who first came to the village offer to chase after the Grimm wolves, so Blake shrugs and agrees. Their faces light up again, and they thank her profusely.

The first boy grabs her hand and kisses it, and Blake's face boils with embarrassment.

Blake covers it by ordering the crowd to disperse and go back to what they were doing before. They oblige with a salute, turning her face redder. As the crowd disperses, Blake catches sight of Illia, who looks unamused.

Blake's about to ask why, but that's when the first boy passes by her. He stops to salute her despite having done that earlier, and Illia full-on glares at him.

Oh, boy.

A/N

Another reason why I want to finish uploading this story faster is so I could get started on editing it. Don't get me wrong, I like it the way it is, but every story can always be improved, you know?

Also, how do you like the flashback? We now sort of see the drive that Blake has, the reason why she's so intent on defeating Dragonheart. Are you all curious to see what motivates Yang to want to defeat Shadow? If so, then same. (Remember, guys, I finished writing this, like, at least a month ago, I think. I'm as in the dark as you are. I only remember the big stuff that goes on.)