Well, here is chapter two. I was hoping to get a Dragon of Starfall Chapter out, buuuut, I got into a writing streak….and finals, because those are still a thing. That, and I'm playing with a funny little concept, a mixture of The Horus Heresy and Percy Jackson…
Yeah, I have been listening to StringStorm. Sue me. (No, really, I have a problem; I listen to it every single bloody day!)
Now, reviews:
Existential ERROR: all of your points are valid as fuck. I hope that this chapter deals with the first ones, but the overhyping, well, until I get Cyrus on a fight, I'm afraid I will have to await our judgment then. For now, I haven't showed enough for a good picture at the level of ass-kicking he can dish out. He won't be alone in there though.
The one about throwing random stuff for shits and giggles, nop, not going to happen. I have plans for that, but it won't be out of the blue, and it will have repercussions.
Thank you for the review, and I hope you do another! Let me know if the problem still persist, or I have fixed them a bit!
Well, here is the second chapter of this little story. Hope you guys enjoy it. As always, reviews are appreciated and criticism taken into consideration. Also, crazy theories too. Those are the best.
Chapter 2 – Actions, consequences.
"Professor Port, I wanted to apologize, sir" Not that I thought I had done nothing wrong. But thinking, and knowing, are two different things. I shouldn´t have fired that shot, and I shouldn't have moved from my spot. But reflex and habit….and some little bit of trauma, had taken the best of me. So I was going to shut up and take the thrashing professor Port most surely intended to give me alone now. We were alone in the class, my team had left to go to the next class. Yang hadn't cared much, and Rennet had followed, glancing back at me. Pyrrha had been the one the most worried, but after a quick smile, she had followed suit.
"Apologize, Mr. Amaranth?" He asked, smiling behind his mighty facial hair because it was a great bloody mustache.
"Yes sir. I shouldn´t have acted like a reckless idiot. You were there, and you had everything under cont…." The man cut me off.
"Oh, that I know, Mr. Amaranth. I know you acted out of place, in what many of my colleagues might consider a quite disrespectful way, and that you should be rightly apologizing and taking all the punishment I would have given you, and some more" I almost cringed at the words. Dam, I had fucked up. Big time.
"I also know I had the situation under utter control, and I know Ms. Schenne had it under control too. I also know that you know, my boy, that not a single hair of Ms. Schenne´s head would have been harmed with me in this class" I almost bit my tongue at that. The man was right, obviously. I had allowed my fear to take the best of me. Didn't make it any easier, though.
"And that I would be justified to report this to the headmaster, maybe even grant you a few days off my classroom… "I kept quiet. Fuck, I messed up. Well, time to endure….
"For you and your team" And my eyes flashed amber, an involuntary growl leaving my throat. I regain composure in a moment, staring daggers into the old man´s face. That, was uncalled for. That, was unnecessary. I could feel the light and darkness under my clothes rising to my anger, moving and flowing in angry motes. I kept it under control, mostly. Mine had been the actions of a single individual. My failings, no one else´s.
"With all due respect, sir..!" I began, angry, more light and darkness flowing forth from my shape, hugging the ground, slithering by, keeping a respectful distance from the professor, barely forming a small circle around me.
"There it is" He said, chuckling to himself, a smile in his eyes. I blinked.
Twice.
"Sir….?" I asked, arching an eyebrow in slight worry as the black-white energy around me stopped, standing almost to attention in a mirror to my own surprise.
"Do you know what was the thing from yesterday´s Initiation that took most of us by complete surprise?" He asked gently, sitting on his desk, eying me up and down.
"No sir, I do not" I answered truthfully.
"That protectiveness, Mr. Amaranth, that ferocious protectiveness. During yesterday's test…..Well, we thought you a reckless fool that threw himself to the biggest thing on the battlefield and won by sheer power and luck….until Ozpin gave us your files"
It clicked at that moment.
"You saw my mental evaluation, didn't you?" I asked, almost dreading the answer.
"You mental, physical and aura evaluations, military reports…..and your psychic evaluation…after your mother´s death. I read all of it, and also the statements regarding Ms. Schenne, her older sister, and yourself in Mantle, and I was told by an old friend of Firrah, River Hallad and…. Hill 745" His eyes took on a careful gleam. My face probably was paler than usual, and I could feel my hands trembling a little. A strange smell tugged at my senses, and my eyes seemed to catch something out of my field of view, but I ignored it.
The smell of burning blood and the faces of dead men were of no consequence at the moment.
"Tell me, what happened on that hill, lad?" he asked, eyes shining with an underserved sympathy.
"I needed to clear a path, so I did just that" I said, flatly. It was truer than it seemed. I had a job to do. I did it. From that point onwards, I did my job way too well.
"Doe the name Markus Whilbert sound familiar to you?" He asked, picking his….. Smoking pipe? He lit it up and eye me, smiling as he took a few puffs from the wooden instrument, face full of listening intent.
"Eh…..Yeah, Lieutenant on the 8th Legion, was he not?" I asked, not completely sure. I remember a man by that name screaming at me to get back into the trench line. No luck he had that day.
"And my cousin, too. He was deployed just behind your lines and was sent forward when you almost got overrun. Stayed there and lost his leg down to the knee. I asked him about what happened there…..And he told me. He never forgot, you see. How a young lad, barely old enough to act as a recruit, turned the tide of a battle from defeat, to victory. Some historians will say that you winning that hill turned the tide of the war"
"I did not…." I jumped, outraged. I fought, bleed, and killed. I did not win a war. General Ironwood and Field Marshall Heagen did that, and a lot of men and women that did not come back, or at the very least, didn´t come back whole.
"Death incarnate, he told me, those were his words. You tore through the solitudian forces like a knife through butter, carving squads to pieces, blowing weapon emplacements, tearing tanks and men in half with your bare hands. He remembers you, and your semblance, quite well. He spoke to me of a great walker, a machine twice the size of an atlesian paladin that charged through their vanguard, of you vanishing from sight, and of blinding beams of energy incinerating men and turning armor to slug under your guns, missiles falling from nowhere to shut down armored counterstrikes, of the rampage you led, blade in hand…. Of the black suit of armor that covered you, turning around bullets, blade, beams and explosives" The man pulled his own chair to sit beside me, as flashes of that battle came to mind. Not that I remembered much. Everything had been a massive blur. I did remember parts of it, moments of clarity that pierced the fog. I remembered the armor, of course. When you are given a power such as my Semblance, you use it in the most imaginative ways you can. The armor, in particular, had taken half a decade to get right. But good Lord was it worth the effort.
"To me, he described what it felt like a force of nature, not a man. He told me of the flaring eyes of the young man, twin suns that burned with a fury he didn´t even comprehend, the same eyes I saw you take before taking that shot, the same eyes we saw when the Dreadclaw burst through the tree line and made a beeline for Mr. Arc and Ms. Rose. But he didn't tell me what trigger it. What happened? Why did you snap like that during that battle?" I clenched my fists and jaw at the memory, the smell, and the scream that had haunted me night after night for weeks on end.
"My best friend got his legs ripped off by a stray tank round" I almost whispered, eyes glued to the ground beneath me as the floor tiles were covered in white-black energy that swirled angrily around me.
"So, you took vengeance on those that harmed him?" He asked, taking another puff, voice devoid of any type of judgmental tone.
"No sir, I… I just wanted to get the medics to him" Truth again. A truth that made me rip a battlefield in half by sheer rage and choler.
"You crushed the core of the solitudian army, broke the enemy lines, and killed the command structure of their forces….so the medics got to him?" There was no surprise, anger, or shock in his words; he said it like it a man stated the sky is blue. I nodded slowly, with my head on my hands, sitting down with a sigh in a chair of my own making.
"He was, and still is, my best friend. I wasn´t going to let him die. And after that, after seeing them all bleed, scream and suffer….I just couldn´t let that night swallow them. I decided that it was enough. I decided that it was more than enough." That bloody hill had been bad, very bad. We had been cut from reinforcements, low on ammo and shells, and had been given the command to hold our ground. I still could remember most of it. Men dying, tank exploding, androids falling down in showers of sparks, shells landing right and left, artillery guns illuminating the night sky, blood, so much blood on the snow…. I pushed the images off my mind. Years had passed from that night. It still woke me up sometimes. Not even all the horrors of Firrah could compare to that. Firrah had been our last test of the war for us. The apex of all the blood, all the fight.
We tore Firrah in half
Hill 745 has been our purgatory and hell combined. It tore us in half.
"And then?" Asked the professor gently.
"Everything else after that point is just a blur. I have images, fragments of the slaughter. I can see faces, blood, snow and fire. And I can still recall the smell, of fresh blood, of tears and melting flesh, or broken metal, of active dust. And I killed, I broke and kept carving a path. The next thing I was aware of was of the pain of my own many wounds, the absolute wave of exhaustion that hit me…and the General holding me so I wouldn´t fall face-first into the blood drowned snow" I was crying, I could feel the tears in my hands. I wasn't sad per se, but trauma was a funny and fickle thing. I couldn´t look at my mother´s own picture without my heartbeat quickening. And I couldn´t think about that dammed hill without the old anger, the wrath, the monster inside my heart, rising.
"Do you know what the people of the Kingdom of Solitude call me? Angel of Death" I laughed bitterly and without mirth "And they are not wrong. That is what I am good at. Death" I let my power ripple, and I then was holding Lion´s Wrath in one hand, the combi-bolter feeling perfectly balanced in my hand, adorned with kill marks, skulls and words in Latin:
Fatum Dominie Mei. Master of my own fate.
The underslung plasma gun was turned off, its normal white hue dimmed and gone from sight, yet it only needed a thought from me to activate. Plasma was especially effective against aura. A small sun hitting you in the chest is a death sentence, no matter the armor you wear.
Funny, what a long time ago had been simply curiosity and avid desire to read and learn of the Grimm Darkness of the far future had saved my life dozens of times.
In the other, though, I materialized a more…deadly artifact of death. Luxor shone in black metal and white light, the plasma gun of the Lord of Talassar looking deadly as ever. I had added a little something to it. In delicate letters I had written:
Heredis Honoris. Honor´s Heir.
It was my mother's handwriting, at the very least what I remembered of it. Not the old one´s, though, blessed be my soul, I barely remembered them. And I was fine with that. They had been overlapped by the new ones. They were much better, and worthy of those memories.
Angel of Death.
Either fate or that fucking tumor of a space octopus was playing with me. Then again, they were one and the same in the end. I had chosen to wear the panoply and armor, and bear the weapons and powers of the Angels of Death among many others. Fate had a way to take care of itself. The phrases had been my own way to make such weapon my own, to add my mark in legends. A pitiful idea of a more naïve boy. But I kept doing it nonetheless. It helped.
"You saved a lot of lives there, Cyrus" The professor told me, examining both weapons with a curious smile. Like I didn't know that. Five souls had come back home that I knew personally because I let go, because I remember my oath.
"And took even more, sir. My hands are stained with enough blood to drown a Behemoth. And it did not stop there. From that point to Firrah, I just snapped. I didn´t hold back, show mercy or gave any quarter. And each…abomination, each work camp, each plaza filled with hanged bodies, just made me go deeper into the bloodbath. Claws, hammer, spear, sword, daggers, arrow, I used it all, no reservation" I was not ashamed, not really. It had been an "us or them" situation. But as much as a man can create a masterpiece and appreciate it, I could produce a massacre and be aware of it, or the horror of it all.
"But that is not the thing that bothers you, is it? I read the report, remember?" The older professor's gaze hardened a little. My hands were closed into fists, as we stared at each other. At some point, my nails had pierced my palms. Blood barely tricked for a moment before they were closed.
Ah, my strange Semblance.
"No….that wasn't the worst part. Even after all the bloodshed and carnage….the worst part?..." My mouth trembled; lips quivering at the idea of the admission of truth.
"It felt like fucking vindication. It felt…right. It felt….good, to return a fraction of the pain I had witnessed back at those that had caused it. A foolish idea of course. Most of them were simple boys and men that fought for their country…..Didn't slow my sword arm, though" War dehumanize the enemy, making it easier to kill it. It also tends to dehumanize the soldiers that fight in it. I almost lost my humanity there a few times, letting myself go to the darkness of unfeeling. It was easier when you just ignore the call of your heart and conscience. But I preferred no sleep over no humanity. She wouldn´t have wanted me to choose otherwise.
"You enjoyed it? That is what eats you alive? That you enjoyed killing you fellow man?"
"….Yes. It does" I lied calmly.
"Do not lie to me, my boy. We both know that all that, you can deal with. But what truly bothers you, is what your mother would think, isn´t it? What would she do and say if she saw you know? The Angel of Death of Solitas" I froze for a moment.
Fuck.
He was right.
As much as I wanted to deny that, this man had read me up and down like nothing. And he was right. All the blood, carnage, all the killing, I could deal with. I could detach myself. Back in my other life, death was my craft. Not the way the Adeptus Astartes did it, but in the way of me studying how and why people kill, rape and hurt each other for 5 years as a career. After a thousand cases, a million photos and crimes, I was a kind of dull to it. I had learned to harden myself to all of it, to detach myself without losing my feelings completely. It wasn't hard. Experience was a good teacher. Jokes, black humor and sarcasm made a good barrier.
But, add to that all the war, all the military training, all my experiences and losses, and it was easy to take a life….unless the idea of what my mother would think of me appeared in my mind, the image of those golden eyes looking at me in horror….in shame.
I could not deal with that, no matter how good I got at it. I could carry those burdens, those sins, as long as she didn't see it. A necessary evil, some had called it. There had been nothing of necessary about it. But I did it because doing nothing was even worse. Solitude had been tearing itself apart. Atlas had been fine ignoring it.
Until the caravans of refugees were attacked on our soil. That, we didn't take lying down. Atlas was not quick to anger. But as the Night of Blood Roses had proven, when roused to anger, Atlas´s choler was a terrible and efficient thing.
I could shoulder being a monster, the reality that there was a need for men that were more weapons than men, and the fact that fate had placed me in a position of needing to be one of such men, of being the closest thing there was to an Astartes. What I couldn´t deal with was what would my mother think of me. What would Atlas´s Saving Angel think of the Angel of Death?
"You are right" I whispered. I barely registered that my body was trembling, emotions swirling in my gut like a maelstrom of hate, self-loathing and anger, burning. It was worse having to admit it. It was worse when her face appeared in my mind.
"FUCK!" I roared into the air, standing up hard and fast enough to throw the chair I had made to the ground, shattering on impact, white and black energy coming back to me in wisps, pacing up and down the room, trying to banish the frown from her features in my mind, and failing quite spectacularly.
"You are right…." I murmured, sitting back down. I dint made a chair, I created a simple block of levitating white and black.
"I don't mind being a monster, I don't care about the insults and the name-calling. I can handle that. But….the mere thought of what she would think, say, tell me. The thought of the look of horror she would send my way…I just can't" I admitted. It hurt way too much.
And then I felt the hand on my shoulder. I looked up to see professor Port smiling sadly at me.
"My boy, the reason I am not angry at your display today, is that I understand. You have lost a lot….Your mother, almost your father, many friends, your soul, some may add. You went through the merciless hell of a battlefield and fought a whole war. Whatever innocence you once held, was lost in those icy mountains and snow-covered plains. And you refuse to have nothing else taken from you" He pated me on the back "As your mother used to say…" I spoke the line without thinking.
"Fate is nothing against a man´s will " He nodded, letting the words echo in the silence of the room.
"You aspire to be measured to your mother, and to make your father proud. Both are hard choices, both difficult things to do. And I know this because your mental evaluation told us so. We saw so. So, let me tell you this. You will never measure up to your mother" My hands closed into fists of crackling energy. I was not that fucking stupid. I knew that already.
"No one can" He continued smiling "She was…. She earned her title. She was a saving angel"
"I don't want to measure up to her" I answered simply, stiff and angry at the whole bloody world "She was something else, someone kind, loving, powerful and mighty. I cannot measure to her because I am not like her. I made peace with that fact long ago. She was a living miracle. I am not. I cannot be like her. She was salvation. I am devastation. She was peace. And I am war. I just want to be able, when I die, when I stand in front of her, wherever she is, to look at her in the eyes and ask her if she is proud of me. And I want her to say yes" I finished in barely a whisper, hands tight in an almost death-like grip. There were sobs down there, somewhere in my throat, but I refused to let them out.
Peter Port blinked once, before patting me in the back again.
"Then, lad, keep up the good work"
{CYPR}
"So, you were right, then?" Glynda Goodwitch sat in her office, examining the face of Professor Peter Port, through the scroll, after the man had called her.
"Indeed. He has a fair amount of trauma on him. He has seen a lot of people he cares, and cared for, suffer right in front of him, and thus, he cannot hold himself back in that particular situation. I do not believe it will be a problem in your class, Headmistress, but, I suppose it won hurt to keep an eye on the boy" Glynda nodded, scribbling a few notes in her notebook.
"So, Ms. Schenne is a catalyst of said fear?" She asked.
"After our heart-to-heart, I learned that they were friends since toddlers. I am sure you read the Mantle incident report, or the Atlas Academy one. He has a bond with both Scheenes, one he holds dear, no matter how much young Weiss seems angry at him" Glynda nodded along, guessing in her mind what might be the reason. But she could gather a good possibility. The same reason she had left James.
War.
"I would also suggest our staff from holding back on disciplining the boy on the subject" Commented the older man.
"Peter? You were the one that suggested us to be gentle with him!" Glnyda said; disbelief clear in her emerald eyes. If the boy was as troubled as he seemed, maybe a gentle guiding hand would….
"His own request, Glynda, dear. He asked me personally. I would suggest the same to the rest of our staff. He is not just a boy, Glynda. He is a soldier. And he wants to be treated as both. He wants to learn and enjoy life as a boy, but answer his responsibilities like a soldier"
"Just like his father. Too mature for his own good sometimes" She said with a sigh.
"True, but I do believe the boy will adapt quickly. He came to apologize personally, after all. It shows…..initiative and an understanding of his own failings. He wouldn't have come…." Peter trailed.
"Unless he understood he had done something wrong" Glynda finished. She nodded slowly "Very well, I will speak with the staff" She relented finally. She could always speak with the boy herself to know what he really wanted
"Good…..And Glynda….I think the boy would appreciate it if you could talk to him" There was a twinkle in the older man´s eyes.
"About what? "She asked, slightly confused.
"His mother"
{CYPR}
I found Weiss quite easily. She was a white ball of anger, walking down the gardens, outrage clear in her face, barely held back by her well-drilled manners. I knew what was going on, and I knew that it wasn't the best moment to do this. But she was my friend. I couldn´t just walk away.
"Want to go for a walk?" I told her, making her turn around, eyes glaring into mine, hands twitching in annoyance.
"Cyrus, I…" She began, blue eyes flashing in a dangerous manner that I had learned from Winter meant that the safest thing for me right now would be to run, fast.
"Just a walk Weiss. I will listen, nothing more. Please, just…. Just like in the old days, okay?" I almost pleaded, staring into her eyes, trying to make her see I just wanted to listen. She heisted for a moment, before her face hardened.
"The old days are old because of you" She said, her back straightening, contempt clear in her eyes. I started this, I could back away.
"Weiss….I know I fucked up, okay? But….I just couldn´t not go"
"You could. You could have done a lot of things, which now are meaningless, because you chose to go to war. You, and Winter, left me ALONE!" It was not common to see Weiss scream. It hurt to the anger and hurt in her eyes. Good Lord, I messed up, again. To be left alone in that blasted home, with sniveling little Whitley, abusive Jacque and drunk Willow. Yeah, that had to be utter hell. When Winter had been there, she had someone to help her, and when I was, I had had full authorization to act as her…..well, her bodyguard, not going to lie. For some bizarre reason, Jacques trusted me for that role.
"Weiss! We were marshaled! We didn't get an option or a say! Solitude went to war with Atlas! I had to go! We had to go!" I tried to reason with her. A futile attempt, I knew that. But I owed her to try at least.
"You both could have opted out! As future huntsmen-in-training, you could have used the exemption and stayed home! With me! All of you left! And the worst part? I wanted to go to! But my father deceit for me, again!" She looked the perfect picture of regal outrage.
"Weiss, I am sorry, but we…." She cut my apology off.
"You, Winter and the rest! You all left to war!" She poked me in the chest, accusation heavy on each and every word. We had, hadn't we? Good Lord, in which maddening world was going to war better than staying home?
"You say it like we wanted to!" I almost growled out, feeling anger rising, but pushing it down.
"Well, you could have not gone!" She answered in a scarily similar tone.
"And what? Stand back home? Doing nothing while thousands died?!" I thundered, truly angry now. I wouldn´t just sit while I could do something. And we both knew that.
"You know what I did, every day? Every morning? I asked Klein to buy the Military Gazette, and to hide it in my room. And every night, when I was finally alone, I would scour the names of the dead and the injured, hoping to not find your names. I would spend hours doing it, checking name by name, double-checking just in case they had placed you in a different letter, hoping to never find it….." That, took me by surprise. Utterly. I took a step back, almost feeling a physical blow from that. Every day for more than a year, searching my name, fearing and yet seeking it in the pages.
"And then your name appeared" Oh, fuck.
Oh, fuck.
Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.
I didn't know how to react, what to say or even if to say anything. I couldn´t imagine what I would have done if our places had been reversed.
Actually, that's was fucking filthy lie.
I would have turned Solitude into a mass graveyard. I would have made the Death Guard look like amateurs. I would have turned ice and snow to ash and cinders. I would have enacted the Eskaton Imperative in such a manner nothing resembling a kingdom would have been left standing.
I would have unleashed the Dreadbringer´s Ire upon them, and let the fires run rampant.
Excoriation and Devastation. That would have been their fate.
AS you can already guess, I'm a very protective person.
"I cried. I cried a lot. It was the only time I have ever screamed at my father, when he demanded me to cease my screeching. I used my semblance on him, you know? I got punished for it, but it felt good, because my best friend was dead, and it was unfair. And I hated him for it, because, maybe, just maybe, had I been there, I would have prevented it. And then, one day, you just pop at my door, smiling and asking me if I got bored waiting? YOU INSENSITIVE BAS…!" She was angry. She was furious. She had been for a long time. Nothing I could say would have made it any different; nothing would have quelled the tears of anger and betrayal. So I didn't say a thing.
I closed the distance and hugged her firmly. Her last insult was muffled into tears and punches and kicks. I didn't flinch. The blows didn't carry any real intent of harm, just desperation powered by fires of anger extinguishing quickly. So I let her. It took almost a minute for her to stop, the twitching in her body changing its origin from anger to simple strain from the contained sobbing. I didn't hesitate. In a blink, we were gone from the garden and from sight.
{CYPR}
"I am impressed" The woman was sitting beside the window, overlooking the vast expanse of the desert. The operation center in Vacuo´s desert was a perfect hiding spot for the team stationed there. The hidden bunker was in the side of a mountain, barely a small wall in the massive cliff-like side of the mountain, which gave way to a quite complex maze of corridors, rooms, and weapon depots. A veritable fortress, hidden inside the mountain, untouched by the constant sandstorms of the area.
"My lady?" Asked the masked man, lowering his head in deference to his lady "What has impressed you?"
"Apart from you gathering all this footage? Our little friend´s demonstration of power" She stated, a hidden test in her tone
"He…doesn't seem so powerful, Madame. Just a nuisance I, or any of the Claws, can deal with" The masked man stated his opinion, yet there was an edge of fear for disapproval in his tone.
"Oh, my dear Bruno, you need to be more attentive" The man, tensed. She noticed without having to turn her head. With barely a flick from her wrist, the screen in the wall of the room was turned on, and in it, the footage of Beacon Academy´s Initiation was playing. A man in black hair, glasses and amber eyes was seen running directly at the camera, before passing by, and the angle changed. He speeded through the forest quite quickly, moving with purpose.
The scene changed to a clearing where a trio of Ursas was facing a redheaded girl in bronze armor. She moved fast, obviously skilled and ready, closing the gap with the first Ursa before slamming her shield in its jaws, stunning it. Her blade moved in an arc, cleaving an offending claw from the second beast, and then she flipped out the way of the third pair of jaws that came towards her, landing in the loin of the second Ursa, jumping forward, blade cutting through the neck of the first Ursa. The image froze mid-maneuver. Any warrior with some experience would know how that fight was going to end. She was good. Very good.
"Pyrrha Nikos, four-time champion of Mistral, some of the highest marks in combat training ever seen in any mistralian school, a martial powerhouse in her own right. Her mother is meaningless, but her father, on the other hand… Achilles Nikos, a veteran of the Provocation War, a political activist with connections to Atlas, and a very impressive background. Charismatic, focused, uncompromising, and harboring quite horrible memories from the Great War. He leads Mistral´s Political Opposition with his Political Party of Unity. A quite ridiculous name, but the man isn't the leader of Mistral´s second most voted party for nothing" She seemed to be musing to herself, not speaking to the masked man.
"And what about the rumors of having contacts with the Black Hand?" He asked, respect lacing every word that he spoke. The woman turned in her chair to regard him.
"Baseless for many. Not for us. He was engaged in talks with them, but sadly, after the recent change in leadership, he has pulled his support from the organization. A pity. Although I expect the White Fangs squadrons I send to Vale might change his views"
"If they managed to get little Nikos, right?" The third voice came from the shadows that laced the far corner of the room, spilling forth and letting another woman exit the void hidden in them. She was shorter than both the man and the sitting woman, wearing black leather in a dress that mimicked snaked wrapping themselves around her sensual form, all alluring curves and exposed flesh. Eyes shone green and stilted, as venomous fangs gleamed with each word against her dark-red hair, full lips and tanned skin.
"Of course. I suspect seeing her daughter being tortured, raped and killed in a live worldwide broadcast might be enough to actually push him over the edge, and if he ends up being more resolute than he seemed…Well, the terror factor cannot be underestimated" She smiled, confidence obvious in each of her subtle movements. Her eyes were bright yellow, as her golden hair fell in a long mane, her dress made of grey and golden details, marking her figure, not in the seductive way of the black-clad woman, but in sheer power and authority. This woman was to be feared, respected and avoided.
The snake woman smiled, thinking of the massive waves of Grimm that would surge when the world was exposed to such images. And if the little man could do his job, there was no way such retransmission would be stopped in any way. Complete chaos.
"I thought the threat was the lad, my lady, not the girl?" Bruno continued, careful with each word, gaze lowered in deference. The faunus woman snickered at this, and walked towards him, boots clacking again the stone ground. She passed her gloved hands through the man´s mask, gently passing a few fingers under it, making him shiver and sweat.
"Bruno, Bruno, dear Bruno. A man alone is a danger we can contain, mitigate, or deal with…." She flashed a smile at the sitting woman who nodded, before continuing.
"For a single man is still a man alone, swinging blindly into the darkness, not knowing what he faces. Ignorance and death makes all men equal. But…. If Ozpin was to put him under his employment, get him into his little circle of allies….we would deal with a threat of a whole new level" Bruno nodded, following where the conversation was heading. The potential was the thing worrying his mistress. And that, Amaranth had in ample spades.
"When Amaranth was in Atlas" She continued, nails tapping softly into the chair´s armrests in a thinking manner "he was unreachable, out of our grasp, and on the battlefields of Solitas, whatever agents we send after him were dealt by the men under his command, watching his back, in the crossfire of battle, or by the Atlesian Counter-Intelligence Division. He changed the flow of the war. But now, on Vale, he is alone….For now. He has been appointed team leader, which leaves us a small window of opportunity to deal with him, until Ozpin gets his claws on him, or he makes enough allies for us to have again problems"
"I do not follow, Madame. Then why is Nikos so important?" Bruno asked, still puzzled over that point.
"Apart from being an instrumental part in our dealings with the White Fang? Oh, I managed to obtain a copy of his psychological analysis. He…..has a problem with attachment. He forms them quite easily, it would seem, and loss and war have made him predictable when such things are threatened. I have no doubt that he will be fast to make bonds we will exploit. And Nikos, being his partner…might be the first of many unseen blows we will be able to deliver. In doing so, we will herd him in a direction of our choosing…." The masked man blinked under his mask, surprised by the plan his mistress had set in motion. It had merit, turning a possible for in a useful unwilling pawn. And if thrown against Ozpin, one stone, a lot of dead little birds. He smiled and bowed, humbled.
"It also serves a double purpose. He is atlestian. Duty means a great deal to him, thus he will try to protect Nikos with all he has…making him an easier target for us to deal, if such opportunity arises" She finished, letting a small smile grace her lips.
"Did you watch the reports from Solitas?" The other woman asked, passing yet another finger under his mask, his shoulders shivering at the mere contact.
"Yes, teacher, but almost all of it was….inconclusive. I cannot identify his semblance. At first, I thought he could create weapons, but after a few more hours, I realized that it didn't limit to weapons. He summoned actual warriors, suits of armor, and much more. All of it made of white and black energy, almost like he was crafting them in pure light and darkness" He reported, still upset with himself for not spotting a weakness to exploit.
"So, even thou you have seen him fight, after seeing all he can do with his semblance and the fact that we cannot fathom yet what the limits or working of it is, adding to this his status, position and contacts, you can't see the danger he represents?" She asked, surprise and slight mockery mixed in her tone, making him go stiff with embarrassment and anger.
"I see the danger, but he does not seem to reach the level of other threats, like Ironwood, Ozpin or Goodwitch" He stated, frowning.
"That is because you haven't fought him" Spoke a fourth voice in the room,
as a man entered silently, draped in a black, long-sleeved high-collared blazer with slit sleeves, decorated with a blood-red thorned rose along the edges and on his back. A katana on its sheath, black in its entirety, rested on his right hand, and the white Grimm mask on his face did little to hide his contempt for everyone else on the room, not did it mask his air of danger and menace
"I have" Said Adam Taurus, smirking at the other man in the room "And I almost killed him"
"He almost killed you as well" Bruno stated calmly, hands twitching, crossed at his back, dying to reach inside his jacket, and only the small smile on his teacher´s face stopped him. Adam growled at that.
"Silence, human. A few more seconds, and his head would have been ours. Sadly, the cowards got away" He answered, leaning against a wall, eyes dancing in between them all.
"You call him coward, Taurus, yet you were the one than engaged 12 on 1 and wounded second. Only you walked away. Who is the bigger coward here?" The faunus woman added, smiling provocatively.
"I said-" Whatever threat the best soldier of the White Fang was going to utter next was cut short by the sound of rustling chains moving and scratching against the ground
"So much pride for an animal, eh, Taurus? And here I thought good old Jacques had cracked you" The voice was rusty and old, yet held a jovial ton to it that suggested no lack of motivation, or throat operations.
"No one can crack me, you abominable filth! And get the think out of here!" Adam roared, grasping his blade´s handle until his knuckles turned white under the gloves, feet and body edging into an almost combat stance. The masked man, Bruno, placed himself in between where the rustling chains were sounding and both women in the room, as the faunus seductress stood beside the sitting golden-haired woman, hissing at the sound.
"Oh, how rude of you, Taurus. Little One here has come to accompany me….for a little demonstration" The shadows opened to reveal an old man, wreathed in a pink robe, that walked using a cane fashioned in the image of a human skull missing its lower jaw, smiling down at all of them. He wore a purple shirt underneath the robe, and his eyes gleamed in an almost maniacal manner. His hair was shite as now, balding at the top, many small mechanical arms moving almost on their own accord behind his back, strapped to a strange and maddening apparatus, almost like he had stitched an operation table to his back.
"So, it is ready" The siting woman stated plainly, rising from her chair, letting the folds of her dress flow around her.
"Not totally. Little One here is barely a prototype, but I have 6 new embryos fully developed to actual combat parameters…..and they are restless and hungry. I feed them the rest of the batch that didn't make it, but, my children hunger still" The old man stated, tapping his cane against the ground twice.
Something, in the dark, growled and cackled at the same time. The rustle of chains reached a thundering level.
The blonde woman´s eyes gleamed with anticipation, like a woman that made an inversion quite a long time ago, and is just reaping the rewards.
"Finally, she will be pleased" The man bowed his head slightly, like an actor receiving the more than deserved applause of the public, in his opinion, at least.
"Even so, I believe our knight problem won't be dealt with as swiftly as you would like" He stated smiling. The woman smiled, walking towards him.
"Maybe, maybe not, but then again" Her eyes flashed goldenly, energy arcing from her temples to her eyes in electric hues of contained energy discharges, the smell of burnt ozone becoming almost too much "What is a knight against the Thunder?"
{CYPR}
I waited patiently for Weiss to stop crying, rubbing her back gently, as she kept hitting me, weak punches landing on my chest and arms. When she finally stopped I waited for a few moments to see I she wanted to say something. So, when she didn't, I resorted to the only thing I knew could work with her.
"You know I feel those, right?" She didn't respond to my strangely bad sense of humor, so I gave it another try.
"Did you know I got shot in the ass, twice?" That got a reaction, as she lifted her head, looking at me wide-eyed, probably trying to understand why I had just told her that. Good Lord I was bad at human interaction. Being a nerd in another life had not helped a bit.
"It was not fun. Twice in the same place. I couldn´t sit in for a whole day. Had to sleep facedown, in the snow. Still have the scar. Winter said it looked like a child drew a star on ass cheek" A strangled laugh was all the answer I got, as Weiss´s tears barely hid the mirth in her eyes. Well, from somewhere a man has to start, right?
And then she fully processed what I had said.
"How did Winter see that scar?" She asked, frowning.
"Same way I saw the one under her left breast" She blinked once. Twice.
Weiss. ex has stopped working.
Three times.
Weiss. ex is restarting.
Four.
Oh fuck, I broke Weiss.
"Ice princess? You….?" The shriek that escaped her lips almost had me on the ground laughing, as Weiss´s cheeks tinted bright red.
"YOU SWINE!" She screamed at my face, peppering me again with punches and kicks, making me lose my composure completely, and I burst out laughing. My plan was working "YOU DARE?! MY SISTER, CYRUS! MY SISTER! SHE IS TOO GOOD FOR YOU!" She stopped, huffing in a particularly cute way, crossing her arms in front of her chest, throwing me a death stare that would have stooped a Bloodthirster mid-rampage.
"NO! I REFUSE TO BELIEVE SUCH SLANDER AND LIES! YOU HEAR ME?! SLAN…..!" Her tirade died when I showed her my scroll. Displayed on the screen was….a particular image that made Weiss turn bright red, like a heated barrel.
"Believe me now, you icy Royal Highness?" I asked, taunting her a little, but she was way too preoccupied with being embarrassed and covering her eyes.
"Stop that! Take it away! Either burn my eyes or put that image away!" She demanded, squawking and half-panicking. I laughed again and placed my scroll back into my jacket. She threw me another death stare, trying to form words on her mouth, not managing to say a thing. I lost my shit completely, falling down into the grass, laughing my ass off until my belly hurt. I didn't know in what moment Weiss began laughing too, a true laugh, note the one for concerts and parties, the one she reserved for my mother, her sister and me. And we stayed there laughing for a few minutes until we calmed won. We lay down there, among the grass of the small clearing I had shadow-stepped us to, not too far from Beacon, but enough to not elicit unwanted attention, my head on
the base of a tree trunk, hers on my stomach, using my Semblance to cushion her head so she was comfortable. She smiled at me in a silent thank you, both of us staring into the mid-day sky.
God Almighty, I had missed this.
"You…and my sister? I always knew she found you nice….but she is 5 years older than me, so 4 years older than you! How?! When?! WHY?!" I lost it again.
"Well, you could ask her…" I taunted her again, crossing my arms behind my head, smiling at the sky. She punched me in the chest.
"Talk, Amaranth. Cough up the details" I arched an eyebrow, making her turn tomato-Weiss again "NOT THOSE KINDS OF DETAILS!" I chuckled and relented.
"Well….It happened around a year ago, when we were fresh home from some field operations. We got very close during the war" I chuckled mirthlessly. Winter had been a stone on which I could support myself, a calming presence that made me push myself further. She had been my friend, my confidant, my confessor, the one to reassure me. I wouldn´t have walked whole from that hell without her. It had been only natural to me to help her back with her won problems, doubts, and needs. She had earned my loyalty and friendship long before those bloody nights. What had been there having only been reinforced by the conflict tenfold.
"She mentioned you two growing quite close after the war….But…Winter never even spoke of romantic endeavors! Much less those younger than her! Even much less you!" I arched an eyebrow again. What was that supposed to mean? Sure, I wasn't that much of a looker, but I wasn't that bad….Right?
"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked, slightly offended at the comment. What was wrong with me? She looked at me with a deadpan stare. I frowned even more at that look.
"Seriously, Cyrus? You can barely be out of uniform without having a mental breakdown on what to wear that is not a suit, and do not get me started" She passed a hand through my hair "On this bird-house of a hair you have!" I huffed slighted. My hair was just fine! I just liked it longer than most...!
I needed a bloody haircut.
"So, forgive my surprise when I have just learned you manage to seduce my sister!" She huffed indignantly, pouting quite a bit. I poked her in the cheek, electing a small yelp.
"I did not seduce Winter!" I defended myself, hiding my smile as well as I could.
"Well, then how did you two do such immoral things?" She accused.
Got you, Ice Princess.
"What are you talking about? The worst we did was some kissing, groping, and snuggling together! You thought we slept together?! By the Brothers Weiss, what a dirty mind you have!" My face was a picture of fake outrage and slighted honor. She gaped at me, suddenly, realizing that I had quite bamboozled her into saying that. Red shot up her face, as she tried to find a way to escape my trap. She failed.
"YOU…! I…..! HOW…..?!" She tried to form words, tried to tell me something, and I just smiled smugly at her, as finished its restart again.
"AAAAARGH! You are impossible, you know that! I thought…! That picture…!" She tried to defend herself, pitifully at that.
"Just because I have that photo of your sister does not mean we had sex, you know? Really, Weiss, you need a boy…." I dogged a punch to my face from a very red Weiss, who seemed way too close to snapping my neck. Or trying to, at the very least.
"Also, I'm sorry for…." This time she actually slapped me.
"I know you well enough to know that even if I had asked, it's an instinctual thing for you. Do not do it again, though, I will use my semblance on you" I nodded, smiling thankful. She did have a soft spot for me. Another stunt like that and it would be a sore spot in my face. But her mind had gone back to the whole Winter thing.
"You are an absolute pain, Cyrus, really. Why did you do that?" She asked indignantly.
"Well, seemed like the best way to get your old self back for a few moments" I answered calmly. Weiss froze for a moment at that, eying me in what I could only think was worry and….shame. She rose to a sitting position, and I mimicked her, letting my back rest against the tree trunk with a mournful sigh.
"Look, Weiss, I get you were furious at me, okay? I was an insensitive fuck, I won't discuss that fact…and my reaction, although maybe a little warranted, was uncalled for and unnecessary. I snapped, and I am truly sorry for that" She looked at me right in the eyes and nodded, grabbing my hand and squeezing it slightly. She was as proud as I was. So she understood that speaking like this was hard for me.
"Cyrus….. I'm sorry myself for my reaction. I was angry. I was lonely…and seeing your name there, I felt like my whole world was turned to ash. You were my friend. My best friend. The friend that broke into my house because I told him I had nightmares and I couldn´t sleep, the friend that almost broke a bully´s hand when he talked dirt behind my back. You were my guardian knight…. And I had just lost you. You protected me so many times, from my father, from Whitley, from my father´s friends and their sons, from…anything, and anyone. I still remember the trip to Mantel to see your grandparents. It was the funniest thing I had done in years, and then, you summoned those…things" She shuddered at the memory. I had made them quite terrifying, to be truthful.
"Genestealers" I corrected her absent-mindedly, remembering the sensation of utter panic that had crossed my body from tip to tip.
"And you killed those curs that tried to get me and Winter. From that day, onwards, you away had my back…..And I felt like…" More tears were running down her cheeks. I brought her close in a comforting hug "Like the one time I needed to watch yours….I wasn't there" Now, she was crying again, but not fighting my tries to comfort her, now, she leaned into it.
"You never failed me, Weiss. Never. And I am alive, so stop torturing yourself because of things you had no control whatsoever of. We already have me to that" I told her gently "I made an oath, didn't I? No matter what, ice angel, call for me, and I will be there. I am Atlas´s Black Knight, after all" I told her softly. She nodded, wiping the tear away. I smiled back. But I hadn't finished my own apology
"B-but I should have been there!" She continued, trying her hardest to find some blame to put on her back, so unbearable guilt for her to still charge, something to hate herself. I cut her off with a swipe from my hand.
"I am sorry, Weiss. It didn't occur to me just how bad it had to be for you, waiting to hear if we were dead, hear if we were coming back, afraid that the ones that would return wouldn´t be the same ones that left" I gazed into the ocean, letting the blue mantle in front of me bring me calm. It barely worked, but every bit helped. I wasn't running simulations this time.
"But, if I'm honest with you, I'm glad you were not there" I confessed. She simply looked at me and listened, and I was thankful for it.
"War…war is chaos, devastation, death in every corner, every step, even those that you do not take. Not just yours, but your friends, your men, your superiors and subordinates, the guys you haven't met, and the enemy itself. It's an ever devouring maelstrom, stroke after stroke, movement after movement, all of it an intricate canvas we can barely see, a dance between titans, and we were caught in the middle of it. War breaks men. It stares at our soul and makes it a barren wasteland" I ran a hand through the scars under my uniform, each and every one of them I still could remember. Phantom pains echoed in my chest, back, arms, face, all around my body, as the smell of fresh blood and ignited dust escaped my nose, just out of reach, but there still. A reminder for years to come. War was an ugly business.
From Rome to the Spanish Empire, from the USA to the Shogunate, war has always been the blood of empires. The Imperium was a testament to that, so was The Galactic Empire and many others. Humans thrive in war. Heroic acts, villainous plans, dreadful massacres, daring rescues, bloody battels and unyielding last stands. All that is part of human nature. We are complex beings. We always have been. Light and darkness, in equally unfair measures, the potential for the best and worse. When we have a common threat, a reason for unity, there is nothing that can stop us. When we bring all of our darkness and light together, you get a power that can shatter the stars themselves.
So that is what I had to do.
Give Salem the war of her fucking eternal life. One where her darkness, and Ozpin´s light, found themselves shattered under humanity´s wrath and fury.
"What did you do?" Weiss asked quietly, sitting beside me.
"Well, some stare back; others hide their souls to all of it. Men try to run, try to find shelter from its gaze…."I smiled at Weiss "I could have been the better man, the nobler man, the good man. But good men do not win wars, Weiss. Men do not win wars, Weiss. And I choose to win that fucking war" I growled out
"So you choose to not be a man?" She asked, voice between neutral and stern.
It would have been easy, wouldn´t it? To justify all we did, to simply take all that blood, that suffering, that pain, and pin it on someone else. To state that it was a simple necessity. To take all the blame, shame, and pain and let go of it. But if a great man taught me something, is that my pain is mine. Is what pushed me to better myself. What made me practice with the blade until my hands bleed, what drove me to practice with my Semblance until I suffered aura exhaustion. Power comes to those willing to push themselves for it. And I NEEDED power for what was to come.
My pain is mine to keep me moving where everything else fades to the background. My pains, my shames, my failings, are the core of the man I am. And to discard them, would be to discard my humanity, to discard all my mother taught me. So no, I didn't do that.
I could have run from the war, hidden from it. But that wasn't why I came here. I didn't come here to become another soldier, another cog of the machine Ozpin and Salem run so smoothly.
I didn't come here to run from fate.
I came here to bend it under my blade.
"No" I answered honestly, still smiling at her, as my eyes shone with power" I am the Angel of Death. I looked at war right in the eyes, and broke it under my dark wings."
{CYPR}
Pyrrha tapped her pencil against the notebook again. She would not lie. The questions professor Oobleck had assigned them were quite complicated. She sighed, slumping a bit in her chair, letting her mind wander through the questions, searching for a possible solution. Not a hard thing, but the question required interpretation and stating one´s opinion….Which was bad in her case. Not because she couldn´t form her own opinions. Pyrrha Nikos was not one to hold back her tongue if she felt like speaking her mind, especially when her father was such an important political figure back in Mistral. And their household had been the first place his ideas had been challenged, by his own daughter. Pyrrha would never forget the amount of courage she had to muster to actually tell her dad she thought he was wrong.
She wasn't afraid of him. Her father was a loving, although strict military man. There were rules that Pyrrha could carefully bend, and those that would not buckle no matter what she did. So, she had expected a dress down and a look full of disappointment when she had placed a frontal opposition to her father´s political views, augmenting her point of view, during dinner…when she was 10.
The smile her father had gifted her that would never leave her memory nor the blossoming sensation of pride in her chest.
"A person is forged in her own opinions and views, little berry, and not even my own views should take precedence. You are Pyrrha before being my little girl. Never forget that"
She shook her head, smiling. She missed her family a bit; she was not going to lie. But her team was nice. Yang was…angry, but she made a lot of bad jokes all the time, which Pyrrha found very funny, and she seemed strangely approachable under all the anger, like she was willing to shoulder everything and pull them forwards still. Rennet was calm, composed, gentle, yet iron-willed. She was very much like Pyrrha, and yet so different. A beacon of calm in the maelstrom, focused anger in a laser-like precision, of shoots that never miss. With her gun at their back, she fell a lot safer, a lot more confident. And she seemed ready to listen to anything Pyrrha felt like sharing, and she exudes an aura that told her that everything she told Rennet would stay between the two of them.
And then there was Cyrus…
Atlas´s Black Knight had earned his name in the Initiation twice over. When she had found him in the forest, she had expected an uptight military officer, much like her own father. But far from the truth, Cyrus had been flexible, adaptable, listening to the council of others, strangely humble for someone that technically out-experienced them all combined, and showing a…spark, so to speak. The bigger the Grimm, the more he threw himself forward, the stronger he seemed. She had honestly been terrified the first time she listened to the sound of Wolf Teeth. He had been….
Well.
Terrifying was a good word to use.
He had carved Grimm like they were mere practice dummies, changing from blade to gun, back to spear and claw, brandishing a different weapon in each swing…and those guns…. Flamethrowers, missile launchers, fragmentation grenades...
He was a walking weapons battery.
But he had not moved like a huntsman. Huntsmen relied on aura and overwhelming power, firepower and speed to eliminate targets, never relenting in the assault, using quick reflexes and teamwork to cover for each other, but where huntsmen moved out of the way, Cyrus stood his ground, unflinching, unyielding.
He took the hits, he juggernaut his way through the enemy, covered in that suit of armor of his, a behemoth of death clad in black and white plates, a sprinting battering ram. Where others would break under that punishment and relentless onslaught of beast, claws and jaws, he pushed through. Huntsmen didn't do that. Grimm would overwhelm anyone who tried that, aura would fail, the body would tire, weapons would run out of ammunition, blades would dull.
But, when you could create all the armor and ammo you require….
He was a huge walking, killing and heavily armored target. A breathing challenge to the Grimm. And the rest of them had been the trap. And he scythed his way through them, no matter size or number. It would take more or less time, more or less weapons, but he would reach the other side. That, or he would set a field of death where they would fear no enemy.
It was awe-inspiring, to be honest. Her partner was a bastion that cut the tide in half.
Almost as if fate has heard her, the came orange-eyed team leader entered the room and fell face-first into the bed, groaning. Pyrrha giggled at his antics, smiling as the other then turned, half-smiling at her.
"Hey, partner" He said tiredly, winking at her. Pyrrha smiled and sat beside him.
"Hey, yourself, partner" She answered, smiling
"Did I miss much in Oobleck´s first class?" He asked with a sigh at seeing the book in her hands, frowning a little.
"Enough for my notes to not be enough" She confessed, an involuntary shiver running up her back at the mere thought. The man….was not mortal. No mortal man could teach so much in so little time.
"That fast, eh?" He asked, patting her on the shoulder.
"It felt like being caught in a tornado. The man speaks very fast" That, was an understatement. The man was a Gatling gun of words, dates, and facts that had gunned down Pyrrha´s and everyone else´s minds.
"With the amount of highly caffeinated tea he ingests, I'm not even surprised" Cyrus deadpanned, running a hand through his hair, yawning.
"And how was your talk with Professor Port?" She asked, curious about how professor Port had reacted after her partner's little stunt. She was not angry, but confused. They were all huntsmen in training. Surely Cyrus knew that there would have been no need for such a reaction.
"Way too close to heart, no going to lie. The man read me like an open book. Brothers, I hate that feeling" He grunted, placing his head in his hands, letting a growl escape his throat. Pyrrha found it amusing, to say the least. Cyrus raised his head and looked at her in the eyes.
"Can I ask you something?" He finally spoke.
"Sure, feel free" She said smiling. Maybe, finally, she would get to know more about her partner.
"It is…about your dad" His tone was insecure, but firm nonetheless, and Pyrrha world shattered a little. This, had been her greatest fear since she had been accepted into Beacon. The fame, infamy, and loathing that came with his father´s reputation. In Mistral, she was way too famous for that to tarnish her reputation. Here, it was the first thing people saw.
There was an old saying. In Vacuo, people will check how tough you are. In Atlas, how honorable you act. In Mistral, is your honesty what really matters. But in Vale? Names, lies, and fame are your coin. After all, Vale was the political and mercantile center of Remnant. Vacuo was the main exporter of exotic goods, tough bastards, criminal enterprises, huntsmen and minerals other than dust. Mistral was the producer of food, agriculture, medicines and animals, and lastly, Atlas, the exporter of security, military trainers, private security groups, high tech and weapons.
Vale was the heart of commerce, shady deals, cutthroat politics, and news and misinformation.
And Pyrrha was about to get caught in the metaphorical shitstorm.
"We both know his political views, his high distaste towards faunus, militaristic approach to politics and…..ties with certain….individuals" Cyrus didn't outright say it, but Pyrrha knew what he meant.
It made her blood boil.
Her father. Was not. A terrorist.
There were few things that made the Amazon warrior lose her calm. This was one of them. She clenched her fists and tensed up. Had this come from anyone else, she might have given in to her desire to slam her fist in their face. But Cyrus seemed very uncomfortable with this. And he had been very nice to her. So she controlled herself a little more.
"So, until things calm down a bit in Mistral, I think is for the best if…." She cut him off, rising up from her sitting spot, glaring dagger into his skull.
"I understand" It was a curt and angry response. It wasn't a response Pyrrha would have normally given. But she was not in the mood.
To her surprise, she felt betrayed.
Cyrus looked at her, puzzled for a second, before realization dawned on him, and he got up.
"Wait Pyrrha, let me finish…."He tied, but the red-head would not listen. The harm was done. There was no place for an apology now.
"I'll keep my political views to myself, thank you. Who my father is, should matter little here, much less to you. I'm my own person, Cyrus, and I shouldn´t have to explain myself for my father's views to you, or anyone else!" She raised her voice this time, whirling around, heading for the door, furious, feeling angry and betrayed. He was supposed to be her partner! And not even that had stopped him from judging her for her father´s views!
"Pyrrha, lis-!" Cyrus placed his hand on her shouter, trying to stop her. She reacted on instinct, grabbing him and judo-flipping him over her body into the ground, hard. But a moment before impact he dissolved in whips of dark and black energy, reforming in front of her, holding his hands in a gesture of peace. He tried to, at least.
"I expected you to be different. You are my partner, and you are judging me already!" She almost barked at him, feeling the anger swell up in her. Brothers, if Cyrus saw her like this, if her team saw her like this, then how would anyone else see her? Would her years in Beacon be tarnished by the constant whispering behind her back, the constant glaring and snickering? No, it couldn´t be like back home. Please, let it not be so.
"Eh, eh, Pyrrha, I'm not-" He looked embarrassed and almost panicking, muttering under his breath, as he tried to explain himself. Like that would fix it much, she thought.
"Just because I carry his surname doesn't make me a racist, Cyrus! Being her daughter is not a crime!" Cyrus's mouth opened and closed like an asphyxiating fish, trying his dammed hardest to formulate coherent sentences. Any other time, Pyrrha would have found that funny, maybe even cute.
"Emperor´s balls, woman, would you just-!" He started, raising his hands in exasperation. Pyrrha cared little for her partner´s discomforts.
"Who are any of you to judge me?!" She quite screamed at him, feeling the burning of shame and anger deep in her chest, as the words and rules of the day before felt like ash in her mouth. All that proclaiming, all that promising start, soured simply for being her father´s daughter, nothing else. She felt stupid and naïve. Of course, they would judge her. She carried her father´s shadow around. A shadow he himself hated casting on her. How could she have been so naïve to think simple words would have protected her from harsh reality?! Stupid little girl
They did not have the right. No right to tell her that her father was evil, to try to tarnish his image in front of her. A child was not guilty of her parent´s sins.
"Exactly my point!" Cyrus roared, Semblance flaring as darkness and light mounted up behind him, forming an echo of wings and scales behind him, eyes flaring in amber anger.
Silence fell on the room for a second, both of them breathing heavily, both of them angry and furious at themselves and one another.
"What?" Pyrrah finally asked, letting her rational mind take over her unbridled feelings, as she saw that Cyrus was looking at her with worry, annoyance and a little bit of anger. But not hate, not disgust or shame. He took a deep, long breath, calming himself, reining his own emotions back into control, his semblance calming down, the elongated shadows and bright lights in his form dying down. Finally, he explained, tone calmer and softer.
"What I was going to say is, hang that bloody poster, hold your head high, and fuck everyone else. No one here has the moral ground, capacity, or right to judge you, much less for something like that. Family is family; everyone should respect that at least. And if anyone makes any comments, says something to you, calls you anything, looks at you funny, let me know. I'll take care of it…gladly. Yesterday´s promises stand firm. And I will keep them standing" He proclaimed, bringing a hand to his heart in a closed fist, an old warrior gesture, the other placing it softly on her shoulder. There was iron in his eyes, a desire to prove to her the veracity in his words.
"I'm atlesian. Honor, matters. Oaths, matter. And I make this oath, here and now, Pyrrha Nikos, that I do not care what the world throws down your way, may it be men, Grimm, gods, or demons. I will be there, blade drawn, ready to watch your back while my heart still beats, and then, some more. We are partners, Pyrrha, and while that stands, you can count on me, no matter how dark the night is, how terrible the foe seems. Atlas´s Black Knight is yours" His smile was bright and hopeful, and tugged at the strings in Pyrrha´s heart. There was no backhanded promise, no desire to get something off her. Pure honesty. Foolish, naive on his part in such a world and a place as Vale.
But it made her smile.
It was good to have someone to trust unconditionally, outside of her own home. She had never had friends like those. All her life, every friend, every smile and outstretched hand had brought hidden intentions and double standards, promises and debts. This was an oath freely made from a man's heart, of honor and duty. It made her feel extremely honored. It felt good to be the damsel for once, and have her dauntless knight come to her rescue.
Pyrrha shook her head on that through. He wasn't hers! What was she thinking?! Those thoughts were more proper of a cheap telenovela! Not a huntress-in-training!
Oh, brothers! Had she said that out loud?! Why the hell did his eyes shine like that? Pyrrha felt her heart beat a little bit quicker than she would have wanted. That….and she felt….strangely warm, almost….hot.
Her breathing was calmer now, understanding that her partner, was, in fact not judging her, but trying to convey that he would protect her from such judgments. She smiled softly at him, feeling extremely thankful, both to him, and to fate, for being wrong. It was quite a massive relief, to see someone she was supposed to trust, someone that she would have to trust for the next half-decade at least watching her back like that. Her partner was on her side.
"As good as it feels to have my partner worry about my well-being…." He cut her off, holding her gently but firmly by both shoulders. He was slightly taller than her, just a little.
"It's not that, Pyrrha. Well, fuck that, I do worry, red. It's my job as your partner, teammate and team leader. But more than that, it's the fact that I do understand you, because we are a bit more similar than you think. Your dad is Achilles Nikos, probably one of Mistral´s most famous politicians and soldiers. Want to guess who´s my dad?" He asked, arching an eyebrow. Pyrrha blinked in confusion. What did he mean?
Then he stepped back, stood a little straighter, crossed his hands behind his back, and made his face take a more serious air. He looked regal, militarist. Funny, he reminded her of…
"Oh" She said softly, her brain working the last loose ends in a complex circle. It was impossible, right? If he had a son, the world would know? Would it? Unless….his mother…his grandfather….. Oh, Brothers…She was right.
"Oh, chucklefucks" Cyrus whispered "You got it, didn't you?"
"OH" She repeated, the full brunt of the information hitting her under Cyrus's uncertain eyes. He was right; they were a lot more similar than she had thought. Both were raised by famous military leaders, both carrying so much on their backs. She, her father´s military honors and political views. He, his father´s brilliant career, power and influence in Atlas, a man that rose from nothing to the very top, and the influence and legacy of his mother, the Kingdom´s most renowned defender.
"You are General Ironwood´s son" She said in disbelief. His smile went from ear to ear.
"Bullseye in one, partner"
A little obvious, wasn't it? I didn't want to drag this too much. This was what gave birth to the whole story, after seeing the last season of RWBY again. Ironwood is, to me at least, one of the best characters. He is a boss, a badass, and a certified gangster. And any man that strides into battel using a pair of fucking 50. Cal handguns that can transform into a BFG is worthy of my respect.
Well, this was more of a lore-related chapter and fixing relationships. Hope You enjoyed it! Do not worry; the next one should have a fight or two. Anyone up for a guess of who is our bald friend with a cane?...
Yep.
Yeah.
Yeah, it's the sick fuck. And he is not alone.