Some time later…
"Well, that's quite a tale, James" Ozpin said, sipping his drink as he reclined in his headmaster's throne.
The general, finished recounted his tale, stood stone-faced before Ozpin's desk. His arms tucked behind his back, the man seemed ready for whatever recriminations his fellow headmaster had for him.
"To summarize," Ozpin started, taking another sip. "You—or rather the SDC—unearthed a revolutionary archeological discovery. From which you found an artificial woman, whom you—for lack of a better term—imprisoned after activating."
Ironwood flinched, slight enough that most would miss it, but not old Ozpin. He'd known the man long enough to get a handle on his tells.
Ozpin continued. "She escapes your hospitality, pulling a fast one over not one, not two, but three of your best. Then manages to flee the city entire before disappearing off the face of Remnant. Funny enough, you lose track of her at the same place you found her. A full circle."
Ironwood clenched his jaw.
"Does that about sum it up?" Ozpin asked dryly. He punctuated his speech by draining his mug.
"She had assistance," Ironwood protested. "A rogue scientist, Arthur Watts. We presumed he was dead."
"Yes, it seems Atlas has a bit of a presumption problem," Ozpin noted. "What became of the find in the ice—the Temple of Remembrance, was it?"
Ironwood sighed. "When we arrived, we found two abandoned vehicles, a snowmobile and a Bullhead. An explosion had occurred inside the Temple itself—one of the chambers had partially collapsed—and we found dried blood, though whose is unknown. Zelda eluded us, as did Watts, if it was truly him."
"Well, I suppose that's that, then," Ozpin lamented. He fixed the general with his best teacher face, one honed through decades running Beacon Academy. "I'm not mad, James. Just disappointed."
Ironwood stared at him.
The first thing she heard was the sound of someone breathing, before dimly realizing it was her own chest heaving up and down. Amber struggled to open her eyes, light way too bright searing her corneas through the cracks of her eyelids. The Fall Maiden sluggishly returned to consciousness.
Her vision was blurry, and it took a few heavy blinks before she could see clearly. The sight was familiar, and it took her a second to place where she was. The infirmary. At Beacon Academy. Had she ever been to the infirmary before? She must've… otherwise, how could she recognize it? Amber didn't recall, so why was she there now?
Filth, thick and cloying, smeared across her face, sinking into her skin, burning, choking, hurting—Amber squeezed shut her eyes, trying to banish the memory. The diner, she'd been attacked in the diner… John the landlord had been injured… The woman in the red dress used a strange glove… With a Grimm attached to it.
Her face ached where she'd been hit by the Beetle. Amber tried to touch her face, to take stock of the injury, but her arm felt like lead and merely twitched. She raised her head, looking at her body and the room beyond.
She was in a cot, a white linen blanket coating her. A machine lay to the right, displaying her vitals in blocky numbers on a black screen. Soft beeps emanated regularly from the device.
Sitting in a pulled-up chair to her left, was Link. It almost startled Amber to see him watching, except it took her a moment to recognize him. He smiled at her, relief clear in his exhaustion-ringed eyes.
"Link," Amber greeted. She coughed, suddenly aware of how dry and phlegmy her throat was.
A gentle hand cupped the back of her neck, Link lifting her up delicately. He offered a sweaty glass filled with clear water to her lips, slowly tilting it. Amber gulped the cool liquid down, barely restrained by Link's slow pace.
Once the glass was empty, Link lowered her back down and returned to his seat, satisfied. Amber swallowed, refreshed. She tried again.
"Link, what happened to John?" she asked, remembering the injured man. "Is he…?"
Link nodded, eyes closed and smiling.
"Good, that's good," Amber breathed in relief. She tried to rise, but her muscles remained sluggish and heavy. She only succeeded in lifting herself up for a bare moment before crashing back down. "How long have I been—"
"Oh, you're awake!" a nurse cried, rushing to her bedside. The woman fussed over Amber, checking her sight and hearing, testing her for pain.
"You've been unconscious for—" the nurse checked a digital watch on her wrist, "—for a little over sixty hours, give or take."
Amber's brow rose. No wonder she was so stiff.
The nurse turned to Link. "Could you be a dear and tell the headmaster? He wanted to know as I'll finish up here."
Link pursed his lips, shaking his head. The nurse rolled her eyes.
"He's been like this entire time," she told Amber. "Nearly had to drag him out when… well, that's not important."
Amber had a feeling she didn't want to know. "So he's been here the whole time?"
The nurse smiled. "Yes. Some of your students stopped by as well." She patted Amber's hand. "Now, someone needs to tell Professor Ozpin, so I'll be right back." The nurse withdrew, leaving the two of them alone.
Amber flexed her fingers, testing the motion. Now that she had some time to wake up, it was a little easier to move. Slowly, she lifted a hand to her face. The skin on her left cheek, just under her eye, felt rough and raw. Streaks of the pained tissue spider-webbed to her forehead. She winced as she pressed a finger to it, before trailing the digit to the other side. Other scars streaked down the right, from her nose and lips to her jaw and neck. Even without a mirror, Amber could tell it was unsightly.
"What do you think, Link?" She asked the knight. "Is it as bad as it feels?"
Link frowned, shrugging. Amber quirked a brow at him.
"Think I'll frighten small children?" she rephrased. "Will I go bankrupt buying makeup?"
It was Link's turn to quirk a brow at her.
Amber giggled, unable to help it. She drew herself up, finally succeeding at rising into a sitting position. The blanket fell from her chest, revealing the gown covering her. Right, she'd been unconscious for sixty hours, they didn't know when she'd wake up. Amber noted the IV attached to her wrist, finally aware of the dull spike where the needle pierced her.
"Do you think Ozpin is mad?" Amber asked idly.
Link shrugged, stating how little he cared without words.
"He's definitely disappointed. He's that kind of teacher." Amber swung her legs from the bed, before immediately retreating. She'd forgotten about her lack of pants.
The time ticked by in relative quiet, occasionally broken when Amber asked Link a question about whatever popped in her head. What happened after she passed out. If Team RWBY had made up. Why Link stayed with her, when she was safe in Beacon. The taciturn knight gave clipped answers. He pulled her and her landlord out of the burning building. RWBY seemed fine. And because he had to.
Eventually Ozpin saw fit to break the increasingly awkward atmosphere. The headmaster walked into the infirmary, his cane tapping the ground as he went. He looked tired, though less so than Link beside her, gray hair mussed. He lacked his usual mug, something Amber had never seen him without to her memory.
He came to a stop at her bedside. "I'm glad for your recovery, Amber."
Amber swallowed. "Yeah… looks like I lucked out…"
Ozpin pinned her under his gaze. The seconds drew out to a century of waiting. Finally, he asked the question she knew he would. "Why did you leave Beacon?"
"I…" Amber wilted.
"What were you thinking? You know how important your abilities are, yet you disregarded my instructions."
Amber clenched her hands, gripping the linen blanket hard. "I… I know. I didn't think—I just wanted…" She trailed off, face burning. Amber stared at her feet, unable to look at the headmaster.
Ozpin stared at her, before sighing. "What's done is done. At least now we can confirm the danger."
He stepped away. For a moment, Amber thought that was it, but her heart jerked a little when she saw him pulling up a chair.
Ozpin sat down, cane withdrawn into its handle and resting on his lap. "What do you recall about the attack?"
Amber relayed what happened, starting with the phone call from her landlord, to John's strange behavior, and finally to the Beetle emerging from the woman in red's glove.
"After that, I passed out," Amber finished. "Next thing I know, I'm here."
Ozpin rubbed his chin, pursing his lips thoughtfully. He glanced at Link. "It matches up with Sir Link's telling. Yet I fear we have a new problem."
She and the knight shared a look. "What do you mean?" Amber asked. Did something happen with Link?
"Before that, I'd like to confirm something. Can you use your power, Amber?"
Amber blinked. "Huh? Okay…" She raised a hand, readying her Maiden power.
She focused, imagining a little fire materializing in her palm.
Filthbilevomitfeceswormsdirtmaggotsrotparasitebeetlesexcrementdiseaseslime
Amber clutched at her mouth, sealing it shut while forcing down the vomit that was rising in her throat. Her stomach clenched painfully, and her face burned where the Beetle struck her. She fell back, head swimming, into the pillow.
Then, suddenly, the pain and nausea and sickly sensations disappeared. Amber released a shaky a breath and sat up.
Link had risen from his position, concern etched on his face. Ozpin regarded her with a frown, worry and resignation warring for dominance.
"It's as I feared," Ozpin confirmed.
"What?" Amber asked, still recovering from the sudden onslaught.
"The Beetle you and Link encountered," Ozpin explained. "I believe it was meant to drain you of the Maiden power."
"But," Amber swallowed. She glanced at Link. Screw it. She continued. "But Link stopped her. He killed the Beetle. I can still feel the power!"
"Thankfully, the connection was broken," Ozpin nodded. "But I'm afraid such an attack leaves its mark."
The headmaster leaned forward, staring intently at her, or more accurately, her facial scars. "The power of the Fall Maiden is tied directly to your soul. To take it, it needed to forge a link between you and it. It's like a bug bite, where its mandibles are still stuck in your flesh. It's still trying to take the power from you."
Amber's stomach fell. "So that'll happen whenever I try to use the power? Is it permanent?"
Ozpin's silence said it all.
"That's…" Amber didn't know what to say. A cavalcade of different feelings roiled in her. Fear. Guilt. Relief. Anger. "…What happens now?"
Ozpin blinked. "You recover, of course. Once you're up to it, you can go back to teaching classes, train when you can. General Ironwood is here, and Atlas's scientists understand aura better than anyone. If there is hope, it's with them. Regardless, you are still the Fall Maiden, and we'll protect you to the end."
Amber flexed her hand. Once again words failed her.
Ozpin continued, but not with her. "Until then, I hate to burden you further, Sir Link, but there are things you need to know should you remain. If you would?"
Link shook his head, pointing at Amber. He was resolute.
"Link, go with him," Amber said. "Please. I'd… like to be alone, right now."
The knight hesitated, before nodding. He followed Ozpin out of the infirmary.
Once they were gone, Amber slumped back into bed. Though she'd been out of it for over two and a half days, she wanted nothing more than to sleep for another week.
Link followed the headmaster silently, allowing himself to be led to the man's office. The walk and subsequent elevator ride were uneventful, filled with the sound of their footsteps and Ozpin's tapping cane.
The headmaster's office was as he recalled it. Spinning gears in the ceiling hanging over the clear floor space. The headmaster's desk and chair sitting prominently before the large windows overlooking the Academy. In the distance, the water and city sparkled.
"I do hope you've gotten some sleep since we last talked, Sir Link," Ozpin said, reaching his desk. Link followed, standing before it. Ozpin sat down and pulled out his classic mug. Bending over, he pulled a kettle from somewhere unseen.
"Please, pull up a seat. This is quite the long story," Ozpin told him. He tipped the kettle over the mug, pouring frothy brown liquid into the vessel. Steam curled, fogging up the headmaster's spectacles.
Link did as the headmaster instructed, finding a chair at the edge of the office, and moving it before the desk.
Ozpin sipped at the drink, savoring the warmth and flavor for a moment before regarding with a warm look. "Would you care for some? I find it's good for dealing with difficult subjects."
Link shook his head.
"No? Well, then. I guess I'll have to stop putting it off." Ozpin looked forlornly at his drink before placing the mug off to the side. He leaned forward, putting his hands together. "Tell me, Sir Link. What is your favorite fairytale?"
Link was unimpressed.
Ozpin relayed to him the truth about Amber. That she was one of four Maidens, representing Fall, and possessed true magic. Her power passed down from woman to woman based on a dying thought.
Furthermore, Amber was the target of a great evil. An immortal queen, corrupted by the power of the God of Darkness, sought to steal the power of the Maiden in order to seize four divine relics. This queen, Salem, had magic of her own and power over the Grimm. She was, according to Oz, the greatest threat to humanity, unrivaled and undefeated.
Again, Link was unimpressed. He refrained from saying so, out of politeness.
Finally, Ozpin revealed the truth about himself. A great hero sent by the God of Light in ancient times to save humanity. Reincarnated every generation into a like-minded host, Ozpin was once a powerful wielder of magic himself. He created the Maidens and he organized the Academies to protect the relics. No matter how many times he lived and died, he opposed Salem's machinations for the good of Remnant.
At this point, Link was nodding off, only his training as a knight keeping him awake and listening.
"Now, I'm sure that all of this must be difficult for you to believe," Ozpin finished his tale. "Trust me, I know how ridiculous this all sounds, and I'm sure you have many questions."
It took a moment before Link realized that was a prompt for him to answer. He shook his head. Honestly, it seemed rather straight forward.
Ozpin blinked. "Well… maybe I did forget a little who I was talking about. With all that said, I must ask. Do you plan to remain with Amber for the time being?"
Link nodded.
"Our agreement was until the end of the Vytal festival, but knowing what you do now, I would not fault you if you wished to depart immediately."
Link fixed him with a glare, determined and unbending.
Ozpin chuckled. "Then I suppose I better work on my end of the bargain."
The twin witches floated behind her, obscured by the darkness of whatever chamber they were in. Before Cinder lay a pool of black liquid, visible only by the way the dim torchlight reflected off the surface. Or rather, failed to reflect, the inky darkness swallowing the light hungrily. An occasional bubble popped, splattering crackling ooze on the chamber's stone floor.
"Well, child, you wished for our aid, and we've granted it. Now, do as you promised you would."
Cinder kicked a pebble into the pool, watching it splash on the surface. The rock sank slowly, as if it were easten. "What is this?"
"This, Ganondorf Dragmire, is your inheritance," answered one of the witches. She could not tell which spoke, their voices blending together into one. "The malice of the demon king, the birthright of the king of the Gerudo."
"And you wish me to…?" Cinder hesitated.
"Immerse yourself!" the witches cackled. "When we allowed you leave, you promised that when you returned, you'd claim your destiny, did you not?"
"And now you've come, returned with a pack of stray elders and children, begging succor. We've been more than helpful, have we not, sister?"
"Indeed, how charitable are we! To help the pitiful dregs following our boy, why, surely this should endear him to us!"
The witches howled, their hissing cacophony bouncing off the walls like thunder.
"Cease your prattling!" Cinder shouted. The witches quieted, albeit slower than she would've liked. "You said nothing of this. Only that I would have great power in my future."
"And you will! We promise! To take up the demon king's malice, to be the incarnation of his wrath, that is power rivaled only by the three feckless Goddesses.
"This is what you were born for, Ganondorf. This is what every Gerudo man was born for. One by one, they failed. But you! You are different!"
Cinder paused. "The others. They died?"
"Died. Or refused us. Which is the same thing, really."
"Hush, sister. He need not know this. Your will is stronger than theirs ever was, child. You will succeed where they failed."
Cinder contemplated, staring hard at the dark pool.
"Think of the power, future king. The power to claim what is yours by right. And the power to claim what you want."
"All I want," Cinder muttered, thinking of verdant wind and gentle breezes. Not the skin-scraping gusts of his homeland. The winds denied to her. "What I want… is what the Gerudo want."
"So say all kings of all peoples."
Cinder took a step forward. Then another, and another after that. Another and she would be in the pool. A bubble burst, sending a droplet of the ooze on to her big toe. It burned, searing her skin to the bone, yet she ignored it in favor of the choice before her.
"I… I must have power," Cinder admitted. She stepped into the pool.
Hello there!
Short chapter today. I'm sorry! I'll try not to make it a habit.
I really like the image of Ozpin explaining the plot of RWBY, only for Link to pull a Saitama. "Ok."
In other news: Hololive Council! I'm already hyped. I'd livetweet it, if I had any followers. Or a twitter.
As always, thanks for reading, reviewing, following, and favoriting!
LeonTetra