Late chapter is late because this work event is killing meee...

Hey everyone, this is the last chapter of this book – and as such there will be a week with no update next Monday for this fic as I and College Fool work to plan out the next book. In response to many comments of last chapter, there was a reason I made the vault round and so that Jaune couldn't hide from Ozpin. It was so that he couldn't just spend hours there "charcoal-copying" runes off of things. Ozpin would have obviously been a little suspicious at that… similarly, just because Jaune said he rendered the armour down into metal doesn't mean he just ignored the runes on it. Wait and see, and I'm sure you'll be pleasantly surprised by his actions later.

I've not always `written stuff out` in full because sometimes I'm waiting for people to notice, question, or spot clues that are left on purpose.


Beta: College Fool

Cover Art: Dishwasher1910

Book 4: Chapter 17 (Final)


Cool fingers poked and prodded at the skin on my back and the constant humming of the person responsible didn't make me feel any better, especially when the Priest continued to hold a hand to her chin and stare at the wound like it was some kind of wild animal.

"Is it bad?" I asked.

"Not that I can detect. You said this was a stab wound?"

"Two," I corrected. "It was pretty much fatal."

"Well, the healing process seems to have completed so there's no risk of that. I also can't detect any malignant magic or problems you should be concerned about." The Priest sighed and stepped back to dust her hands together. Her brow was furrowed, eyebrows drawn low as she glared at my back as if it had offended her.

"You don't sound entirely convinced," I pointed out.

"The headmaster filled me in on the type of creature that did this to you," Tsune said, "and no, I'm not convinced. Just because I can't see anything wrong doesn't mean there isn't. This Salem creature doesn't seem the type to be so benign. But…" She sighed and nodded to my back. "There's nothing wrong that I can see. Even if I feel uneasy I cannot countenance keeping you here, and I'm not sure there would be anything I could do should something happen. You haven't felt any unusual urges or emotions recently, have you? Any thirst for human blood or desire to kill people?"

"Um, no. Should I be worried about that?"

"If it happens, yes, I'd say that would be cause for concern. Otherwise, it looks like you're fine. The skin is a little discoloured, rather pale about the wound, but that might just be because it was regrown." The Priest gestured for me to pull my jerkin down. "I'll have another look in two or three months just in case, but you seem fine. I've cast a number of healing spells on it and nothing has happened, so... it's already healed."

I nodded and thanked the priest, hopping off the table to pick up my equipment once more and shrug it on. No news wasn't necessarily good news, but since I'd half expected to be told my life could be measured in months or years, I was over the moon. Maybe there really wasn't anything wrong with it. Maybe the skin was just discoloured because it was a non-human trying to heal a human. It could have just regrown in what Salem thought was natural skin tone. I desperately hoped that was the case.

There wasn't much that could be done otherwise, however, and as I left the Healing Wing of Beacon, the Priest had already buried her nose in a book. Sunlight shone down on me outside, causing my eyes to water for a moment as I adapted to the early morning air. The hustle and bustle of people preparing for the day ahead had already begun, and multi-coloured tents and carts had been installed all across the green and commons. Many students were already there, unable to control their curiosity despite the fact nothing was open and wouldn't be or a few more hours. I might have joined them but I had to keep my promise to the others and tell them what the results of my treatment were. It had been hard enough to convince them not to lay siege to the Healing Wing while I was inside.

My mind wandered as I walked through the commons and down a staircase set into a steep hill, which led into the Guild Village where most of the students resided. We'd been back in Beacon for two weeks now, and although we'd all kept our eyes on recent affairs it looked like Ozpin's words had proven true. There had been no invasion, no landing forces, and no signs of further aggression other than posturing by the navy in the strait. Meanwhile the diplomats of both countries were working hard to sort things out, Noble Caste members such as Ambassadors, Scribes, and even Counts and Dukes running to and fro.

So we were told, anyway. It was hard to get a grasp on things from Beacon, but the city of Vale was certainly alive and I'd personally seen ostentatious processions of Nobles boarding ships at the docks, and I doubted they were off to holiday in Atlas considering the armed retinues that accompanied them. There hadn't been any official word, but much like my injury, no news was good news.

Yang met me outside the Guild Hall, the Brawler's cheeks flushed as she panted outside the door. I stopped to raise an eyebrow at her and she held a hand up for me to wait. It took her a few quick minutes to catch her breath but when she did, she rose up once more.

"Sorry about that. Just jogged back from Vale and it was longer than I thought it would be."

"What's the rush?"

"Ruby wanted to know if there were any letters from Dad," she said. She waved a sealed envelope in the air. "Lucky for her there was or I'd give her some serious words for making me run there and back. There was a latter for you, too. I had to sign a form to say I wouldn't open it before they let me take it. Here."

The letter fluttered in the air as she tossed it, not quite reaching me and forcing me to snap out a hand to catch it. It didn't look to have been opened, the wax still whole on the back, and that was lucky since it would almost certainly mention me being a Blacksmith inside. I felt a little relief at having dodged an arrow there, but couldn't really fault Yang for helping. "Thanks," I said. "Saves me a journey."

"How did your medical go?"

"I'm fine, apparently." I mustn't have sounded too confident because Yang cocked her head to the side. "There's nothing that can be found and the Priest says I'm fine, but she wants to keep an eye on it in case anything happens. No nasty magic though."

"Hm, sounds complicated."

"I wouldn't know. I'll just continue on like normal and hope for the best."

"Yeah, if we're lucky we won't ever have to meet that crazy demon-woman again."

"That'll depend on the Greycloaks," I said. "They're the ones summoning her."

"Yeah, but you ever think that doesn't make any sense?"

I shot her a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"Well, they're an organisation that has people in at least three out of four kingdoms, right? We saw Merlot in Atlas, some chumps in Vale, and Tyrian in Mistral. We can probably assume they've got some people in Vacuo, too."

"I guess so. What of it?"

"Well, they didn't exactly seem to be working together very much, did they?" Yang's question made me pause but didn't really connect. She sighed and explained a little further. "Think about it, Merlot and Tyrian both tried to summon Salem and both wanted a wish, but it's not like those wishes were even remotely similar."

"Tyrian wanted a Queen to rule over Mistral," I mused. "Merlot wanted power. I… I think I see what you mean. Merlot's wish was purely self-serving."

"So was Tyrian's in a way. He wanted a Queen that wouldn't betray him because his did. Sure, the other people there might have been cool on the idea but it was Tyrian's wish, not theirs. My point is that I doubt the Greycloaks in the other countries would have cared about that. Are these people even working together or what? And when Tyrian died those waiting outside wanted the book we found. I doubt they expected us to kill Tyrian, so were they there to take it from him? Did he steal it from them?" Yang sighed. "Ah, forget it. I'm just venting." She slapped my arm and pushed into the Lodge before I could reply.

Her words stuck with me, however. The Greycloaks were obviously working together but it didn't feel like they were particularly connected in terms of what they wanted. They all seemed after the means to summon Salem, especially if those ones outside that had demanded the tome from us were any indication, but summoning Salem wasn't their goal – it was just a means to an end. They wanted the wish she could grant, but for what? Merlot's and Tyrian's had been pretty much as opposed as you could get.

I almost wanted to run back to Ozpin and point that out. I didn't, however. He must have figured that out on his own; he was the headmaster of Beacon, after all. He and Qrow had probably spent days looking through the tome we'd recovered, and might have already learned more than we ever could. In the end I let the issue go, at least for now, and stepped into the Lodge.

I was quickly surrounded and interrogated as to what the Priest had said.

It took me a few minutes to pry everyone off, mostly because they kept asking questions I really didn't have the answers to, about my wound, what it meant, and what was going to happen now. I wasn't able to think of a way to distract them until a bell tolled in the distance, doing the job for me.

"That's Beacon's bell!" Ruby gasped. "That means the festival is open!"

"Smell you later!" Nora yelled, already at the door and with an arm around Ren's neck. It slammed behind her before the Monk could cry for rescue, and we all heard Nora's feet stampeding away.

"She's got the right idea," Yang laughed. "Let me get a shower, Rubes, and we can head off together. Weiss, Pyrrha, you two got any plans?"

"None," the Mage replied.

"Me neither," Pyrrha said. "Shall we go as a group of four?"

"Sounds good to me." Yang paused on the staircase to give me the most salacious wink ever seen. It had my neck heating up. "We'll be out of your way soon, lover boy. Make sure to watch yourself, though. I hear Assassins do it from behind."

"You're lucky Blake isn't around to hear that," I replied.

"I pick my moments, lover boy." Yang crested the staircase and waved. "I'll be out in ten, Rubes. You lot better not go without me."

"Ten minutes…?" Ruby looked crestfallen.

"Don't pull that face," Weiss snapped. "The festival is going to go on for over sixteen hours."

"But… but ten minutes!"

I laughed and left the three there, jogging up to my room and locking myself inside. My armour came off first, followed by Crocea Mors, who I tossed on the bed. There was a black suit laid beside it, crafted from fine fabric and with a white dress-shirt beneath. I ignored that for the moment and pulled out the letter Yang had provided, breaking the candle-wax seal stamped with the insignia of the merchants on the back, and pulling out the well-worn and dusty letter.

My mother's familiar hand-writing, by far the best in the family, welcomed me.

Jaune,

A good job you thought to send a letter at last, young man. Your father was about ready to march to Vale and find you! It's so good to hear from you; we were worried something had happened. Your sisters have been asking about you for months and there was so little news. There was a fight over who would get to read your letter first, and as I'm sure you can imagine, some parts of it caused quite the stir!

I'll start in order, though. We're all fine, so thank you for asking. Your father's forge is still working well and he's even gained another level in the time you've been gone, making him one of the best Blacksmiths in the land. Level twenty-five. Can you believe it? I'm doing well, and no, there isn't another sibling on the way. Stop asking that!

Your sisters are all fine as well, though they miss you dearly – even Hazel and Jade who obviously would never admit it. Things in Ansel have been peaceful despite the rumours of war, and we hope they'll remain so. Your father helped in erecting a wooden wall just in case, but there hasn't been much in the way of Grimm and we keep our spirits high to try and ward them off.

Now, I suppose it's about time I address the Beowolf in the room. After all, your sisters are currently perched behind me demanding I mention this, and demanding answers. I'll just go ahead and say it.

You have a girlfriend!?

A few of the girls don't believe it (naturally), but I personally think the way you described her was too emotional to be false. I really hope we'll get a chance to meet her soon, especially if she means as much to you as it sounds like she does – you certainly spent a lot of time talking about her. Blake Belladonna is a lovely name and she sounds beautiful, even if she is as shy as you said and not very open as your other friends. I'm glad to see you've found someone to appreciate you like I do your father.

The girls, of course, are demanding proof, even now. I'm not sure what proof would suffice other than her before them so they could interrogate her, but maybe a portrait if it's possible? I'll admit that even I want to know a little more about her, but I understand if she might feel nervous about meeting us, so I'll hold off for now. You've talked of how she's brave, kind, but very reserved. I want to know how you met, how you got together, what you've done so far and what your plans for the future are. I didn't raise a son to be so vague on detail, and your mother demands satisfaction!

Seriously, though, we're all happy for you. Your other friends sound wonderful too, especially that Ruby girl. I'm also glad to see you're making some guy friends, and that Ren character sounds like a very dependable young man. It seems like you've really spread your wings over there.

Please keep us in the loop on anything that happens, and we hope we'll get a chance to see you soon. All the love in the world,

Mom, Dad, and your loving sisters.

The letter ended with each of his sisters writing their names down and a quick message, some of them kind, others demanding proof of Blake, and some just telling him off for not getting in touch sooner. I could read through it all. They were upset that it had taken me so long to get in touch, and I was a little frustrated by that as well. I'd gotten so lost in everything that had happened that I'd all but neglected his family. That would have to change.

A pair of arms wrapped about my waist from behind.

"What's that?" Blake asked, her breath hot against my ear.

My first instinct was to pull the letter away but in hindsight that only made me look more suspicious, and my mother hadn't actually made mention of me being a Blacksmith or not being a Knight. There was no real risk to it.

"It's a letter from my family," I said. "I sent them one a week back."

"Hm. Anything nice?"

"They miss me." I felt her hands tighten a little. "And they want me to try and get a picture of you. That or introduce you to them directly."

Her breath caught. "You told them about me?"

"Shouldn't I have?"

"No, I… there's nothing wrong with it. I was just unsure why you would." I twisted in her arms, the act made easy since she'd loosened her grip in surprise. Her eyes were shadowed, her smile weak, and I placed a hand on her shoulder in case she tried to move away. "What did you say about me?" she asked.

Rather than tell her, I handed her the letter. Blake looked at it nervously but eventually took it, scanning over the material. I felt as much as saw her relax as she read it, and her body had leaned into mine by the time she reached the end. I didn't bother to ask her if she was happy now that she'd read it; that would have been trite. Instead I took the letter when she passed it to me and laid it down on my bedside table.

"Why did you tell them about me?" she asked.

"I guess I wanted to show you off," I admitted nervously.

"Show me off?"

"It's not like you're an object, and I probably should have asked your permission, but I just wanted to tell them about it, about us. I don't know. I'm amazed every day that someone like you would want to be with someone like me, and I guess I just wanted to shout that out a little. I feel like it's something worth boasting about, that out of everyone in Beacon, or even Remnant, you'd choose me. Is that not okay?"

"It's not bad," Blake whispered. She didn't quite meet my eyes and her face had turned a delightful shade of pink. "It's just…" she swallowed nervously. "Are you really that proud about it? I don't think it's that big a deal."

"That the most incredible woman in Beacon returns my feelings? I think so."

"Idiot." She dug an elbow into my side. "And if you follow that up by saying something like `only around you`, then I'll throw you out of that window myself."

"I won't," I laughed. Her smile was answer enough to my question. "Why are you here, anyway? Weren't we going to meet in an hour?"

"I wanted to ask about the medical."

Ah, of course. I should have expected it. "It came out fine," I said. "No danger and no horrible side-effects. I'm good to continue lessons, fighting, and whatever."

"And whatever," she mocked. She broke out of my grip and backed away with a smile. "Well, then, I'll leave you to it for now. I just wanted to make sure you weren't about to grow a third arm or horns from your head." She left with a wave a second later, pulling the door shut behind her. A part of me missed the warmth, but I reminded myself we were about to go on a date in less than an hour.

Her reaction to the letter had been a surprise though, at least before she'd had a chance to read it for herself and discover what I'd said about her, or at least read into my mother's reactions to it. I'd kept some things secret from my family, of course – Classes, adventures, and what we'd been doing – but other than that I'd had nothing but praise for Blake. Did she really think I'd have said anything else?

That was almost sad, really.

"Actions speak louder than words, Jaune," I whispered. If I wanted to tell her how I felt, I'd best show it and make it clear. With that in mind I pulled off my combat clothes and prepared to take a shower in the shared bathroom between mine and Ren's room. As I did, a small brown pouch fell to the ground. The drawstring loosened, spilling out three little pieces of metal that clinked onto the wood-panelled floor.

I knelt and picked them up, cradling the small fragments – barely an inch across and tall – in the palm of my hand. The metal was smooth in the centre and rough on the edges where I'd hewn the tiny plates free. I turned one over in my hand, revealing the small rune carved into the other side. There were three of them, and each had been forged into the armour I'd chosen. I couldn't make runes in armour myself sadly, my Skill didn't allow it, but I'd come up with a different idea, even if it was a little crazy.

That was for a later time, however. I laid the three pieces of metal out on the side, grabbed a towel, and stepped into the bathroom.

/-/

"You look beautiful, you know."

"So you've told me for the tenth time," Blake replied. She walked beside me, our arms linked, and yet again I couldn't help but admire the way she filled the flowing dress. It was black to no one's surprise but showed more skin than I'd expected of her and accentuated the curves of her body in a way that captured my attention and teased at my imagination.

I'd been flabbergasted the moment she appeared atop the staircase, and it was only when she'd reached the floor and placed a gloved hand beneath my chin that I'd managed to gather myself. A lot of people were going to the festival with dates, and dressing up for the occasion, but I really hadn't expected Blake to be prepared to put so much effort in.

"I can't help but keep saying it. You look amazing."

Blake's cheeks flushed and she glanced away, muttering something under her breath – and I had a feeling I knew what. She didn't back away like she might have when we started dating, however. Maybe she'd gotten used to me, or maybe – just maybe – she enjoyed the repeated compliments. Accusing her of that would surely earn a heel to the foot, however.

We'd chosen our moment well and the sun was just beginning to set behind the tower by the time we reached the festival grounds. More than that everyone was already out and about, meaning that we didn't have to deal with queues or people rushing left and right. I caught sight of Yang's hair briefly, before she vanished down some stalls with Pyrrha's in pursuit. Ruby was no doubt rushing ahead, running the two ragged.

The stalls themselves were manned by members of the Labour Caste, games, stores, and little market stalls that would make them some much-needed money and given the students a chance to relax. From the strong smells of meat and pastry there must have been a dedicated area for food off to one side, though that was no doubt packed with people.

Blake stumbled forward as someone jostled her from behind. There was a brief apology – forced out in a mutter – before a couple walked by with a pointed sneer. It took me a second to realise the sneers were aimed at me as well as Blake for once, but it didn't take me that long to understand why. My eyes narrowed and I took a step forward.

A hand stopped me. "Don't," Blake whispered, pulling me back. "It's not worth it."

"They did that on purpose."

"They did." She shrugged one shoulder. "And I'm sure they feel very accomplished for it, just as I'm sure they don't look like petty fools. Leave it be, Jaune. It's not worth causing problems over."

"They're the ones causing problems!"

"No." Blake cupped my cheek and leaned in to press her lips to mine. Tension fled my body and I melted into it. She leaned back all too soon and pressed a finger to my lips to stop me when I tried to kiss her again. She smiled. "It's not them causing problems if we ignore them, but if you go after them with plans of vengeance then it will be you causing issues. Leave it be."

She was right, of course. Now that I could finally tear my eyes off of her I noticed the looks we were receiving. It wasn't for what we wore, or for how close we were, but instead for the words above our heads. It was sickening how many people judged us for them – both the bad of Blake's and the good of mine. They didn't know me, hadn't even spoken to me, and yet felt they knew everything there was to know about us.

"It just makes me angry," I whispered.

"Me too," she admitted. "And it makes me happy that you feel the same way. I didn't think I'd ever find someone who did, not like you." She squeezed my hand. "But I don't need you to be my knight in shining armour. If I wanted retribution then I'd be in a far better position to exact it than you."

That she would, especially with her high level. "Do you ever think about it?"

"I used to, back when I thought I could force people to see me differently. I learned from my mistakes, however. You can't force people to change their minds, not really. You can only force them to accept your point of view, and even then it will only be on the surface."

On the surface, huh? I was suddenly reminded of the amulet I could feel bouncing against my chest under the dress shirt I wore. Now felt like the right time to tell her, the best time, but the words caught in my throat before I could say them. What if she was upset? What if she hated me? I didn't want that to happen right here, right now, when we were both looking forward to a night spent together.

Blake drew my attention away before I could build up the confidence to tell her the truth, leading me in the direction of some stalls. It wasn't hard to notice the people looking at us but I managed to ignore it after the first few minutes, simply standing a little closer to her in case anyone tried something against us.

We flitted past and through some stalls for a while, idling over the various things on sale and chatting between ourselves. As time went on, so did my paranoia fade, and before long I'd relaxed entirely and was laughing along to her little quips.

"I have to wonder why the others haven't come to see us yet," I said. "Did you warn them off?"

"I might have given Weiss a pointed glance or two. I'm sure she'll have passed the message along."

"The two of you seem a lot closer than you used to be."

"Weiss is judged for something she can't control as well," Blake explained. "The sword she wields isn't quite as obvious as mine but it's the same thing, especially in Atlas. I can't help but wonder if her icy demeanour was caused by that as well… a means to keep people away who might otherwise hurt her."

"It sounds like you speak from experience."

"Maybe I do. You certainly didn't get the message." She mock-glared at me.

"To be fair, it wasn't something I did on purpose. I was just too dumb to get the message."

Blake laughed. "That's worse, Jaune!"

I laughed along with her, just happy to hear her being happy in the first place. She didn't show such mirth often, but she had a rich, sensuous, voice, and I noticed some people now looking at her in shock. Well, if they thought they could show some interest now they were wrong.

We wandered past the stalls and towards the music next, but both eschewed the mass of dancing bodies, partly because I was afraid I'd trip up and kill everyone, but also because Blake showed a clear anxiety about joining the throng. I led her aside instead, still in listening range of the live band, but far enough away that we could sit down on an empty wooden table set up on the grassy field beside the main building.

"We can dance if you want to," Blake said. "I don't mind."

It was a lie and I knew it, and when I told her I didn't feel like dancing her relief was as clear as day. For someone like her, so universally mistreated, the thought of exposing yourself to so many people couldn't have been easy. Blake had trust issues, that much was obvious. It was probably why she always jumped to the wrong conclusion, be that about Cinder and I, about my intentions, or about the letter I'd sent home.

"I'm sorry about talking to my parents without telling you," I said. "I should have asked if you were comfortable with it."

"That again?" she asked. "I told you it's fine. I'm the one who overreacted." She sighed and looked away. "I shouldn't keep thinking the worst, especially when you've never given me a reason to doubt you."

"It's fine, Blake. I… I've got a feeling you have your reasons."

She paused at that and watched me warily, expecting questions or difficult topics. I didn't broach them, however. I just looked up and towards Beacon, which was lit by multi-coloured torches. Slowly, obviously, I reached out to place an arm around her shoulder. She leaned in against me and sighed.

"I do. I'll… I'll talk about them some day."

"You don't have to. It's not your past I want."

"What do you want?"

I grinned at her. "Your future."

Blake's face lit up instantly and this time I'd already tensed my ribs for the fist that buried in them, not that it did much good given the level disparity. It was a gentle blow, but a gentle blow from Blake was like a clothesline from Ruby. I'd known it would be coming, of course, but teasing her seemed an easy way to get rid of her sorrow. It replaced it with embarrassed indignation, but she was cute when she was flustered. I couldn't help but grin at her.

"You must be a glutton for punishment," she grumbled. "I'm beginning to see the similarities between you and your mother. The both of you are insistent."

"Is it so strange we'd be alike?" I coughed.

"No, I suppose not." The Assassin took a deep breath and looked toward Beacon. "I think my mother would have loved to meet you, too."

"Blake…"

"She'd have loved you," she continued, cutting me off. "She would have wanted to test you a little, probably flirt with you to see how you react – but only to make sure you were loyal to me. If she knew how you are though, she'd have loved you in an instant. Especially your stupid little lines about love… she was obsessed with that. She'd have melted the moment you dropped that sappy line about my future." She rolled her eyes, and I felt like defending what I'd thought quite the romantic statement, really. She continued before I could. "Dad would have probably hated you, though." She shot me a coy look. "He was always protective, defensive even. He'd have tried to intimidate you off me and would have only stopped when Mom forced him to. Even then he'd keep glaring at you."

I tugged her a little closer. "They sound like they were wonderful people."

She nodded. "They were. I miss them."

"I'm sorry, Blake."

"I don't think they would be…" She stared up at the star-filled sky. It was a bright night with not a cloud in the sky. "They gave their lives so I could be where I am now. I'm sure if they could see how things are going they'd be content. Well, apart for the whole demonic monster thing."

"Don't ruin the mood," I said, poking her side.

Blake laughed. "Sorry."

There were no more words to add after that, and for once I was glad. Blake's parents, as little as I knew about them, sounded like they'd been wonderful people. I could imagine our mothers getting on, and maybe even our fathers doing the same. If her father was so protective of his daughter I had to wonder how he'd have reacted if seven sisters swamped him. It was something that would never happen, but that didn't stop me smiling.

I'll look after her, I promised the stars above. She means the world to me, so… I'll do my best to make her happy. Our hands met, and our fingers intertwined as the song and dance continued.

/-/

We must have spent another hour or two simply enjoying one another's company, not buying anything other than a snack which we ate away from the main crowds, avoiding malignant glares as we shared some chicken and spiced vegetables behind some kind of archery stall, the sound of arrows thudding into targets audible between each bite. We'd tried our own hand at such games, or rather Blake had made me – as she put it there wasn't much challenge in her trying to throw a dagger into the target.

As I licked my fingers clean and looked around for more ideas of what we could do, Blake tugged on my sleeve and pointed to the side. "Look," she said. "An Artist. We should buy something."

I saw what she was referring to, an Artist off by a stall with a selection of his wares, but also a wooden easel before him.

"I didn't realise you were into art," I said.

"I wanted to learn to draw when I was younger but I was never very good at it. I met an artist once and was amazed at what he could do, even if it was sort of cheating because of his Class." A rare smile spread across her face as she recalled the memory. She snapped back to reality with a flick of her hair. "But that wasn't what I meant. We could have a portrait taken together."

"You mean for my mother?"

"She did ask," Blake said. "And I know if my mother was still alive something like this would mean the world to her."

"Well, if you're willing, then sure."

Blake smiled and tugged me over to the man. An Artist was a member of the Labour Caste, though ones that tended to travel a lot instead of staying in any one place, almost like Traders, Bards, or other entertainer-based classes. She spoke to the man and haggled out a deal, and to his credit he didn't balk at her Class. To a member of the Labour Caste all Heroes were pretty much the same. He ushered the two of us to sit on a chair, and I was about to ask why there was only one when he pushed me down, then steered Blake into my lap. My hands settled around her stomach instinctively, and hers above them, and I felt her cheeks heat up as the man called the pose `perfect` and rushed back behind his easel.

"Comfortable?" I teased.

"Don't push your luck," she whispered back, trying to keep the same expression so that the Artist didn't tell us off. "Besides, I can feel something poking me from behind. That had better be a knife in your pocket."

I gagged, and Blake smirked, content that she'd won that round – and probably so much more as I subtly tried to shift her aside.

"Don't move!" the Artist rebuked.

We froze on the spot and managed to hold the post for a good fifteen minutes or so while he swept a brush across a palette on his lap and dabbed at the canvass. He paused occasionally to lean out and study us, then returned to his painting.

It was maybe a few minutes later that I felt Blake shift in my lap. She pushed back subtly, and I swallowed as a pleasant feeling rushed through my stomach. "C-Careful," I whispered. "That's not… well…"

One of Blake's eyes flicked back, a flash of amber meeting my wide eyes and flushed face. She paused, stilled in my lap, and then – with deliberate slowness – repeated the motion.

I stifled a groan into her hair.

"Everything okay?" the Artist asked.

"We're fine," Blake replied, speaking for me since I was busy catching my breath. "Right, Jaune?"

"Y-Yeah," I said, glaring at her. "I'm fi-" She pushed back into me. "ah- fine." The Artist looked confused but shrugged and continued panting, and I gripped Blake's stomach a little tighter, breathing heavily into her ear. "What are you doing?"

"It's cold."

Cold, seriously?

"Is that why you're grinding into me?"

"You don't like it?" She shifted her hips again and I whined through my teeth. "It sounds like you do. I thought you said you wanted to be a part of my future?"

"Y-You're cruel… when you're t-teasing…"

"You decided to tease me first," she said. She grinned. "I guess the Knight can't take it when it's returned, no?"

I had started it, and I was now regretting it, although a part of me certainly didn't think so. Blake smelled of vanilla and some other heavenly scent I couldn't place but which drifted up from the sleek curve of her bare neck so close to my lips. She tilted her head to the side, exposing it, and that only made it so much worse.

"It's cold and you're warm," she said. "It reminds me of Atlas."

"Atlas?" I stammered, still a little lost from the feelings running through me. "Which bit?"

Blake's lidded eyes met mine as she turned her head just enough to glance back. "The shack," she whispered. "When we thought we were going to die. Do you remember it?"

I swallowed heavily. How could I forget it? Our hands had been all over one another, our lips too, and sometimes late at night I found myself remembering it and wishing Ruby and the others hadn't saved us quite so quickly.

"I remember. You told me to forget it."

"I did. Though in hindsight… maybe that was a little hypocritical of me…" Blake waited for a moment when the Artist was distracted to lean back and whisper into my ear. "I didn't forget about it. I never did."

My blood raced. Her breath was hot on my ear, her body hotter against mine. "You have no idea what you're doing to me right now," I complained.

"I think I do."

"You don't."

"What if I do?"

I had no answer. All I could do was suffer in silence as she continued to taunt and tease me, all without realising the cruel effects she had on my body, which was already harder than any steel I could ever hope to forge.

It was almost torture when the Artist turned the picture around and called out that he was done. Blake pressed her rear into me once more before she pushed herself up, using me and my body to do so. She sashayed over, her hips swinging, and I was left to stagger after. To my relief the Artist seemed to think I'd just gotten stiff legs from being still so long. I staggered up to look at the picture and quickly gasped.

"It's good, isn't it?" Blake asked.

It was. It really was. We'd been shifting about so much that the Artist had obviously taken some creative liberty and simply chose the expressions he'd wanted to pick. What he'd gone for was a moment where I was smiling down at the girl in my lap and she'd tilted her head back to smirk coyly back. Her cheeks were dusted with pink and her hair fell in waves down the side of her face to pool over the swell of her breasts. It was an intimate picture, but one thing caught my eye.

"We don't have our Classes on it."

"Your lady friend asked me to keep those out," the Artist said.

Blake shrugged when I looked her way and refused to give a reason, not that she would have needed to. She wanted to keep her Class secret from my mother, and now that I had a moment to think about it that same fear had also saved me, since I wouldn't have been able to send this home had the words `Knight` been visible above me. As it was there was no telling who or what we were, just that we were two people deeply in… in love…

"It's perfect," I said. "How much?"

"Four hundred lien."

I fished out fifteen hundred, and when the man's eyes widened I leaned in and asked him to do a little extra for me. He listened and nodded, then informed us that the canvass would need to dry and that we could pick it up the next day, along with my extras. When I moved back up to Blake after paying, her eyes sparkled with mischief.

"You're a minx," I said. "I never would have expected it from you."

"Maybe the spirit of the moment has caught me as well. You're not the only one happy to have made it through the year, especially after all the times we've nearly died. I don't need to tell you we should be dead ten times over."

"Ten? I count eight times max."

"The other two were when you tried to tease me," she said. "You're lucky to be alive."

I laughed. "As you say, dear. So, what else did you want to do? I'm pretty much out of ideas."

Blake wasn't apparently. She stepped forward and up onto her tiptoes to whisper something into my ear. My eyes widened, and I leaned back.

"Y-You're sure?"

"I've never been more certain of something in my life," she said. The look in her eyes confirmed it. I swallowed and took her hand in mine, and if our pace increased as we left the stalls and made our way away from the loud music, then I'm not sure if I cared.

The Lodge was empty. Everyone was still at the festival. I fumbled with the door, but Blake pushed me through. I did the same with my room, only to gasp as she spun me around and fixed her mouth to mine. The door opened, and I almost fell in, catching myself at the last second, even as my arms caught her and pulled her closer. Her hands were on my cheeks, my shoulders, in my hair, and then – with little time in between – on the buttons of my dress shirt.

The Assassin lost her patience halfway through and growled against my lips. Buttons popped as she used her claws to tear the offending article in two. Trying my hardest not to take my lips off hers, I shrugged the tattered mess off, along with my jacket, and her hot hands were on my bare chest, running up and down the muscle I'd built at the forge and tempered on the battlefield. Her dress joined my outfit a second later, and I saw from what she wore underneath that this had been no spontaneous decision.

Even so, as she fell onto the bed and I held myself above her, inhaling her scent, I had to ask. "Are you sure, Blake? I don't want this to be something you rush into… something you regret."

Her hands reached up to link behind my neck.

"What we nearly did in Atlas," she breathed. "I wouldn't have done that with just anyone. It wasn't that I wanted to feel it before I died. It was that I wanted to feel you. I spent weeks telling myself you were leading me on, that I shouldn't get my hopes up. Even after we were together I spent months waiting for it to end."

My lips parted. "Blake, I wouldn't-"

She cut me off with a kiss.

"I know," she said. "I know that now. I don't think I'd have regretted it at the time. Now, when we've been together for almost half a year? After all we've been through?"

Her eyes narrowed, and she drew me in, overwhelming me entirely and flipping us over so that it was her on top and me below. Her legs were on either side of my hips, one of her hands pressed to my chest, beside the amulet that remained there. She smiled down at me and moved her hips against mine. Even through my trousers I felt myself stiffen, and I groaned. Blake leaned down and pressed her lips to mine again, running her tongue across mine and initiating a battle I was all to happy to lose. When she pulled back her lips shone, and her eyes were lidded and hazy. She traced a finger down my chest towards my navel.

"I love you," I gasped, gazing up at her. She was like a Goddess, my Goddess. "I really do love you."

"It's dangerous to love an Assassin, Jaune."

"I don't care. It's too late for me to stop." I sat up, spilling her into my lap and pulling her in for another deep kiss. Her legs crossed behind my back, locking me in place. I dragged my lips from hers to her cheek, her chin, and then down to her neck. I didn't want to let go, nor to stop, even to breathe. She tilted her head, giving me better access and placed a hand on the back of my head, preventing me from leaving had I wanted to.

"It is too late," she agreed. "You're mine now. An Assassin always gets their mark eventually."

If that was the case, then so be it. As Blake pushed me back down onto the bed and laid atop me, she slew me time and time again – and every time I came back for more. And this time, to the relief of both of us, there were no meddling friends to come and `rescue` me.

Perfect.


Well, there we go. This is the end of book 4. I've had people ask in the past why I always have to bring physical intimacy in, as if I'm somehow ruining things. Well, it all comes down to culture really. By this point in Forged Destiny they're both 18 (having had a full year at Beacon), and in the UK most people have lost their virginity by that point easily.

I'm aware some parts of the US and the world are much more conservative, but that's your call. To me, this is normal, almost expected. I'd be concerned if I was in a relationship for six months and there was no intimacy, not unless it was something we'd agreed on beforehand. Given that they've nearly died time and time again, I feel it's even more natural, and they have been together for a while in their time frame.

Anyway, I wanted to end on this chapter to deepen Blake and Jaune's relationship, since last chapter could have been the last one, but it would have left a few plot threads open, most noticeably the healing, the Greycloaks ambitions, and a few other little things thrown in like the Arc family letter. Closing plot threads I put in place is something I've been focusing on and that includes the three runes Jaune cut out of the armour.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the book and the trip to Mistral. There will be no Forged Destiny next week as that is set for planning – but I'll be back the week after to move into Book 5.

And I'll pre-empty the question, lol.

No, he doesn't get Exp for this achievement.


Next Chapter: Book Five – 5th February (Two Weeks)

P a treon . com (slash) Coeur