Champion in Exile
"Ladies and gentlemen... welcome to the fifty-fourth Junior Mistral Championship match!" The smiling announcer let his voice ring into the microphone, turning in place to address the full crowd packed into the stadium. "Let us give a resounding applause to our finalists, those warriors destined to meet in a rematch of last year's epic battle!"
The spectators cheered raucously... and Pyrrha Nikos sighed and wished that he would hurry up so that she could get this over with.
Once, a few short years ago, she would have been nervous. Antsy. Going over the countless strategies and tactics that she knew her opponent favored, trying to pick out the best plan of attack in those few moments before the match began. Her stomach would have been fluttering, her heart hammering with anticipation, her mind on the final prize ahead of her.
Now... she was just tired. She knew her opponent, knew his style. Was familiar with each tell he had. They'd battled four times in the last two years, and she'd won each more decisively than the last.
She knew he had no real chance of victory in their fifth match, just as he probably did. What was coming wouldn't be fair, or honorable, or anything resembling an actual fight really. It would be a show. A display. Another little honor coupon to be added to all of the other honors she had already claimed.
Another little trophy to add to her parent's collection.
"From the Northern Bracket, one day before her seventeenth birthday... with a record setting twenty-one circuit victories... the back to back to back Mistral Regional Champion... the Invincible Girl... from Argus... I give you... Pyrrrrrrhaaaa Niiiiikoooos!"
The smile slid onto her face without thought or effort, her boots clicking inaudibly against the roar of the crowd. Milo's spear form rose in a salute to her fans as she entered the arena, taking her place in the open field as the announcer beamed at her and let the chants continue far longer than he should have.
Thirty or forty seconds of mindless smiling passed before he resumed speaking, "And from the southern bracket, still just sixteen years old... with fifteen circuit victories to his name... looking to avenge last year's defeat... from Mistral... I give you... Diiiiiaaaaammmmm Greeeeeeen!"
Diam entered from the opposite side, the young man's handsome expression perfectly neutral as the crowd continued to cheer. Most people probably thought it just as excited as what they'd done for her, but she could tell the difference, and she was certain Diam could as well. They weren't cheering to impel him to victory... they were cheering that the lamb that was being served up to a lion.
The announcer backed away as the younger man stepped up into the circle, his tower shield and scimitar already in his hands. He stepped into his own ready circle, pausing while the commentators announced a sponsor. They both waited for the quiet buzzer, then walked forwards for the pre-match greeting.
"To a clean match." Diam's smile didn't reach his tired eyes, his blade rising before him.
Pyrrha was sure her smile was equally as fake as she brought Milo up, gently ringing it against his own weapon. "To a clean match."
Neither needed the next ring of the buzzer to begin retreating to their starting positions once more. As she walked, her mind began moving through the usual steps, the ingrained habit happening beyond her conscious control.
Diam. Sword and shield, traditional Atlesian combat style. Sword can shift into a shotgun with standard ammunition loading. Maximum aura is eighty-seven percent of my own. Semblance is the Bastion, rendering himself and anyone he is physically touching immovable and impervious to harm at the cost of aura depletion per second.
She inhaled sharply as settled into an at ready stance as Diam did the same, hiding his sword and body behind his massive shield. Has three single shot dust pistols hidden on the inside of his shield, one each of ice, gravity, and electrical. Hopes to use them to slow and disable me, will open with a dust based attack aimed at my legs with follow ups aimed at my weapons. Damn you father.
"Five...four... three... two... one... Fight!"
Pyrrha was sprinting to her right the moment the last syllable boomed from the speakers, a purple-black blur slamming into the space her feet had just occupied. The arena cracked as something invisible tried to drag her back, the dust magic slowing her movement as Diam threw the empty pistol aside and began to draw another.
A gentle application of her semblance ahead of her pulled her weapons and armor forwards, hauling her into a forward roll and letting her clear the gravitational field as the second pistol boomed. Something frigid snapped through the air just above her head as the crowd screamed in worry and encouragement, Pyrrha regaining her feet and accelerating to a lateral sprint as Diam kicked his sword back into his hand.
Their shields collided as he met her charge, his semblance stopping her from simply bowling him over with her momentum. His sword lashed out in a quick thrust at her belly, but the second it took him to lower his semblance was enough for her to sweep Milo up to parry the blow. He retreated as soon as he felt the collision, keeping his shield up to block her counter-attack.
But he had no answer when she retreated, spear shifting into a rifle, bullets hammering into his legs before he frantically tucked them behind his shield.
Milo slotted into Akuou as she kept falling back, lowering her own form before his inevitable counter-attack. The scimitar folded back as shotgun pellets began to hammer at her own protection, the gentlest application of her semblance guiding all of the rounds directly into her shield's protection.
The crowd cried in worry, seeing the tiniest hits to her aura and believing that a few stray pellets had struck home, not realizing the simple exchange she was making. A few percentage points was nothing in comparison to the damage a direct hit could do.
As one sided as last year...
Diam kept up the fire as he began his own charge, hefting his shield up, letting her put a few shots into his shins in exchange for turning his entire body into a battering ram.
Pyrrha sighed in her own mind as her semblance again came forwards, her legs flexing to brace herself. The moment before impact she pulled herself forwards once more, the sharp yank countering his momentum in an unseen mockery of his own semblance. Their shields rang painfully as he struck an immovable object, his body bouncing backwards as her semblance dragged her through his guard.
A slight adjustment in direction and a flex of her arm pushed his own shield away, letting her thrust as Milo folded back into a spear. To his credit he tried to block with his own weapon, but he hadn't been ready to be suddenly stopped, and was a beat slow in countering.
Her first strike hit exactly where she needed, the inside bend of his elbow. Green aura flared, stopping her from removing half of his arm... but aura didn't stop pain, and his fingers spasmed in a natural reaction to the impact. His scimitar clattered to the ground as he recoiled, leaving him entirely open for two more quick lunges that hammered at his chest.
Diam made a desperate swipe with his shield, forcing her back as his eyes searched for his weapon.
His shoulders fell when Pyrrha kicked it off of the platform, a twitch of her fingers causing her weapon to shift to a sword once again.
"I'm sorry." She barely moved her lips, knowing that she couldn't be seen saying it.
Her heart knowing it had to be said anyway.
"Yeah, I bet you are." He shook his head and settled into an at ready stance. He had to know that he had no chance of victory... but he was a warrior, a competitor. He wouldn't give up until the bitter end, just as he hadn't last year.
"Let's get this over with."
Pyrrha nodded once, took a final breath, and charged.
"That was so incredible." A brown haired woman gushed, "What it does it feel like? Four championships in a row!"
"It is a tremendous honor." Pyrrha smiled. "Thank you for coming."
The woman's husband beamed at her, tugging a little bit at his suit coat. "How could we miss another Nikos victory gala? Ah, there's your mother! Come dear, and do enjoy your victory Invincible Girl!"
"Of course." She said to their well dressed backs they moved through the crowd. No sooner had they departed than two people closer to her age approached with bright smiles on their faces; a pair of young men in red suits.
"It's an honor to be here!" The older looking of the pair, brothers she guessed from their identical black hair and similar features, "Such an honor!"
"Thank you." Pyrrha took his offered hand, shaking it once, then carefully pulling it back before he could try to bow and kiss it. Or worse; try to pull her closer. "It's good to see you both here."
"Y-you're t-tall." The younger of the pair stuttered, blushing and quickly holding his hands up. "I'm sorry! I just... I... um, it's an honor to meet you!"
Pyrrha smiled and held out her hand, shaking his own with same consideration she'd given his brother. "The honor is all mine. Please relax and enjoy yourself, there is plenty of food and drink, and music will begin later."
He gave her a bashful smile, then was pulled away by his brother who seemed to begin teasing him mercilessly. It probably would have been cute or funny if she hadn't seen similar behavior too many times to count.
Though at least neither of them was staring at my chest... well, not yet at least. The night is young.
Not that there was much to see. She'd chosen her red dress rather carefully for the evening, picking the most conservative one available from the options she'd been given. Aside from a bit of her back and a small slit to expose a bit of her leg, most of her body was covered.
Her mother had complained, but Pyrrha had quickly learned to dress as conservatively as possible at events like this. It didn't stop all of them, but it helped cause fewer men to suffer from wandering eyes.
Thankfully, she didn't have to worry about that with her next guest, a middle aged man in a blue suit that went well with his dark skin. He had long salt and pepper hair tied at the base of his neck, matching the similarly colored mustache.
He was one of the few people in her life she was genuinely fond of, even if she couldn't honestly say they were friends. It was hard to get that close to someone you paid to train and coach you.
"Ray." Pyrrha smiled at him, the expression her first honest one all evening. "Did your husband not wish to accompany you tonight?"
"He said he'd rather avoid jail time for striking your father." He returned her smile as he gave her a gallant little bow, "He did, however, instruct me to defend your honor to the best of my ability."
A genuine laugh bubbled up, her shoulders shaking as he offered her an arm. She threaded her own through his elbow as they turned away from the entrance, no doubt disappointing the many people who had also hoped to shake her hand. "Should I be insulted that he thinks I can't defend my own honor?"
Ray threw back his head and laughed as well. "I believe I am intended to serve in place of Akuou should you need to shield yourself from certain persons."
"I trust that you shall do so most nobly."
"What am I if not noble?" He grinned, letting her lead their path around the edges of the milling crowd. "Speaking of those people, where are they lurking?"
Pyrrha flicked her eyes to the left. "Father is over there, talking with the SDC executives. Still hoping for an exclusive advertising contract I believe. From his expression they've been politely demurring for the last hour."
Ray snorted. "Tired of his begging, more like. Did old Jacques come down?"
Her voice lowered, a rare honesty leaking out. "No, thank the gods. Just those board members with young sons vaguely close to my age, as usual. They did bring an invitation to Weiss Schnee's concert in Argus next month. VIP booth, of course. Mother was delighted to accept on my behalf."
"Naturally." He murmured. "Well, nothing unexpected. Where is your gem of a mother?"
"Haranguing the staff about the food, I believe. Or the fireworks plan." She let out a quiet sigh. "One or the other. I chose greeting guests at the door as the lesser evil."
Her trainer nodded slightly. "A Huntress always knows to choose her battles. Admittedly I didn't intend for you to use my training in the fashion, but you have been happier since you began finding ways to avoid her."
Pyrrha took a long breath, then let it out. "I don't know. If I hear or have to say the word 'honor' one more time I may finally scream."
That drew a chuckle out of him. "It has only taken you four years. I would not blame you in the slightest. What of your birthday plans?"
"I... I have made them."
Ray stopped walking, grip on her arm tightening for just a moment. His handsome face lowered, staring at his feet for several seconds before he brought it back up. A few quick steps pulled her along to one of the corners, a broad empty space around them.
Despite the privacy, when he spoke again his voice was even quieter. Barely audible over the crowd. "You're going through with your little scheme, then?"
"...yes." The word wasn't even a whisper, she couldn't even feel her throat move.
It was too hard to say that. I can't, there's... no. No. I can do this. I have to do this.
She cleared her throat and tried again, more firmly this time. "Yes."
"You're certain?"
"...no." She admitted, some of her fear welling up before she could hide it once again. Before she could repair the mask that had taken so much of her these past few years. "I'm waiting on a call from Fusia. She's arranging the last steps on my behalf, so that they don't realize what I intend."
His nostrils flared slightly at the mention of her agent. Despite being two of the very few people that Pyrrha could truly speak her mind with, that she was fond of, her trainer and her agent had never gotten along. Probably because they both had very different ideas as to what Pyrrha should be doing with her life.
"I still can't believe that woman is going along with this." He muttered. "You need to be ready for her to tell your parents. I'm surprised she hasn't already. They're the ones paying her, after all, and you're her golden ticket."
"Until midnight." She reminded him. "Then her contract expires. And the fame she has earned representing me has let her earn a dozen more. She's secure and knows it."
And her father had already made it clear that he wasn't going to accept someone else taking a percentage of her winnings and sponsorship earnings moving forward. Fusia may have been financially secure, but that didn't mean she was happy. Especially since her father had been... less than polite in declaring his intentions. Starting tomorrow he intended to take the job for himself, something that had broken the last bridge between himself and her agent.
A year ago Fusia would never have helped her.
Tonight... tonight Fusia would do it just to spite her father in the most spectacular way possible.
"I trust her." She said firmly.
"You trust too easily, girl." His voice turned slightly gruff, as it always did when he tried to act the mentor. "That's going to hurt you sooner or later. Like it did when you were younger, and thought those rich brats were your friends rather than agents sent after your wealth by their parents."
It was a harsh reminder. Some part of her wanted to cry, laugh, do anything to release the tension inside of her.
No. No I can't. Not here. Not now. I have to hold on. One more night as the Invincible Girl.
One last night.
Instead of letting it out, the mask she wore simply curled its lips in a little smile, "Maybe. I have to go be presentable. Escort me?"
Ray sighed and nodded. "Of course."
With that they steeled themselves before plunging into the crowd, many of whom had been clearly edging closer throughout their private conversation. Pyrrha could only hope that none of them had heard anything. The last thing she needed tonight was for someone to tell her parents that she was scheming with her trainer.
That kind of things had led to... problems... in the past. She'd sooner not see this gala become any more tiring than it already was.
With Ray shielding her on one side, it was far easier to move through the upper crust of Mistral. She shook hands, smiled, pretended to remember names. Complimented women on jewelry and hair, assured them that she would of course visit their spa's during the off season. Offered fake laughs to poor jests by men, deflected questions about her dating life, and made sure to bring Ray in to end every conversation.
He was ever so good at providing excuses about needing to talk to others. Probably because he had a far better memory for the names of the rich and famous than she did.
Sadly all good things had to come to an end, and as usual that end came with her father intercepting them just before they could attempt to flag down a server for water.
"Pyrrha." Mavro Nikos rumbled, his green eyes locked on to hers so that he could ignore her trainer entirely. "How good to see you being personable without encouragement."
"Father." Pyrrha said. "I know my duties at a gala."
His smile looked just as fake as the one she wore. "I am certain that you do. Come, it is nearly time for the cake to come out. It would not do for the Champion and birthday girl to be absent."
It is not my birthday yet. Not until midnight.
"Of course." Turning slightly, she smiled at Ray. "Thank you again for coming, and escorting me."
It was her trainer's turn to take a calming breath before nodding once. "You are quite welcome, Pyrrha. If you ever have need of me..."
"I will call you." She assured him.
He could only nod one last time before her father led her away. His long strides and broad shoulders helped guide her through the crowd, slowing to a stop once they were near the empty stage. A single sweep of his dark green eyes ensured that they had some space before he spoke again.
"Did you tell him that we fired him for how he spoke to us?"
"No." Pyrrha replied softly. "Mother did, in the locker rooms after the match."
His jaw clenched. "Foolish woman. That was your duty, not hers. You need to be stronger, ready to cut off such useless attachments once they have served their purpose. That Huntsman did his duty, but you will need true professionals moving forward"
"...I know, father."
From his expression she hadn't quite put enough into her response, but he let it go for now. "The announcement of your future plans will wait until tomorrow. Tonight you will speak nothing of it, I trust you remember that instruction."
Pyrrha nodded. "Yes."
"Good, because Haven has accepted all of our terms. You will be free to compete in the professional circuit all four years, and the Headmaster assures me that your team will be hand-picked to be the best."
Her heart trembled. "I had thought teams are randomly assigned."
"A Nikos does not allow random chance to deprive us of victory." He reminded her sharply. "It has been arranged, that is all you need to know. You will speak of your excitement for next year, and for your joining the major leagues. We will practice your speech tomorrow so that you do not sound as wooden as you often do."
...no. I will do no such thing.
"Of course, father. What of tonight?"
"The video honoring four perfect seasons will play soon. We will shall watch it on stage as a family, and then you will speak to the crowd. I expect your display to be as perfect as your victory. After you will remain until midnight and your official birthday toast, then you may retire. Expect to be woken early so that we can begin arranging all of the finances now that you are an adult."
She'd already been told that. Several times. "I understand, father."
He went on as if he hadn't spoken. "Remain here for now, while I retrieve your mother. We will begin the celebration when we return."
"I understand, father."
Mavro Nikos was already moving away, heading for the nearby staff room where the entire event was being run. Her mother would be in there, micromanaging and haranguing in equal measure.
Pyrrha could only take deep, calming breaths. Each one brought a new battle, a new struggle to keep the smile on her lips and the light in her eyes.
The feeling of her scroll vibrating against her back nearly cracked her control. Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached back, pulling the little device out of the tiny pocket sewn into her dress.
A gentle tug pulled it open, letting her see the message from Fusia.
'Response from Beacon: Accepted. Arrangements made. Confirm Y/N?'
She brought her hand to her lips, a single sob of relief escaping. Her quivering thumb tapped a key, her reply sending.
'Y'
Little dots appeared at once as Fusia typed once more. 'Confirmed. I will be there at 1 AM. Be ready.'
It was happening. It was finally happening. In three hours she would be... she would be committed. Everything would change.
She couldn't remember being this excited, this terrified, in her entire life. Not even during her earliest matches.
Three more hours, Invincible Girl. One last gala.
Sucking in a ragged breath, she quickly closed the scroll. Within moments it was back in its hidden pocket, and her mask was affixed once more.
Yet... inside her chest, her heart felt light for the first time in years.
So... yeah. Yet another RWBY story. This one is set in the same AU as 'She Who Fights Monsters', although that story will not be required reading for this one. No idea on update times or progress, but I intend to finish what I start both here and with Kingdom's Shadow.
Please read and review, criticism is welcome, flames not so much, as usual. Reviews are my lifeblood as a writer.. every-time my email goes off with a review it makes me want to write more, so please take the time to leave one. Guests can leave them as well, and it only takes a minute, so please. Even if it's as simple as "I enjoyed it, please continue."
Thanks, Kat
