Knight and Dragon
A/N: Okay I'll keep this short and sweet; been away for a bit due to life, came back after getting some free time and bit of inspiration. I don't own RWBY, in fact never seen an episode – all I know of this universe came from fanfiction, YouTube AMVs and a brief look around the RWBY Wiki, so hope you enjoy this offering of mine. All other points and an important question are in the A/N at the end but for reference:
"-" - Speech
Italics – Thoughts and… other things.
Bold and italics, possibly underlined – Read on and decide for yourself.
Okay curtain up, let's get this first show rolling
XXX
The kiss was… it was odd, made even odder by it feeling odd in the first place.
Death and darkness all around, his school imploding around his ears and Jaune Arc was lip-locked with one of the most desirable girls in all of Remnant. His body was numb, face as red as the hair in his eyes as Pyrrha Nikos; Invincible Girl, four-time Mistral tournament champion and (human) face of Pumpkin Petes' tasty but unhealthy cereal; continued her oral assault. I'm dreaming, or dead; the thought flitted across his blank mind as he began responding vigorously to the make-out session; oh whatever, Pyr needs this after everything so wha-ah!
Sudden cramp in his leg shocked him back to reality, breaking from his partner and reaching down to grab the sudden agony before jolting as a rush of air skimmed past him. Belatedly reminded of their precarious predicament Jaune followed the sensation and his gifted mind, the only real asset he had compared to the rest of Beacons' better-trained and more experienced students, let him see and, worse, understand.
Pyrrha was stumbling, bent forwards and off-balance from her attempted push.
In front of her, behind him, loomed the gaping maw of an open rocket locker.
Ahead lay the path to their ultimate foe, one he'd believed they'd fight together.
Before thoughts of betrayal or condemnation could manifest he acted, the shapely rear he'd so often trailed behind on their teams runs (because you're all much faster than me Nora, shame on you for insinuating anything else) firm under his large hand as he gave a push of his own. Not even the renowned champion could catch her balance, floundering forwards with a yelp before crashing into cold metal and gasping in alarm; I missed? How did… wait!; whipping around so fast her fiery mane snapped the air she lunged only to hit glass, heart freezing as she smashed a fist into the closed locker doors,
"No! Jaune no…"
"Get to the others, keep them safe," her frozen heart shattered, "I'll catch up later."
She knew he wouldn't and she knew he knew it as well, shaking her head as the locker began to rock, her Semblance belatedly manifesting to break out. Reaching for her weapons, punching the door to do something, anything to get out of this metal coffin the rumblings of the lockers' boosters seemed to come from a long way away and she slumped to its floor weeping as they engaged, carrying her into the night. The woman who'd killed Amber, killed even the venerable headmaster Ozpin – that was someone beyond any of them and now Jaune was going to face her alone – she should have saved him, had meant to save him but she'd failed, failed at this one task. The void in her chest was agony, stripping away the Invincible Girl and leaving behind only Pyrrha Nikos, the awkward girl from Mistral who wanted nothing more than to be friends with other, normal people but had no idea how; and the one who taught me about it, about living outside of training, he's going to die.
She hated it, hated it more than anything, squeezing her eyes shut as treacherous memories of the scraggly noodle, the dork knight of Beacon, her partner and her first real friend paraded through her mind. Palms bleeding as her nails cut into them Pyrrha felt the locker reach the apex of its flight, the sensation of her leaden stomach lightening galvanising her into action to escape this mental hell. He… I have to find the others; thinking was too raw, too painful – as though preparing for another final Pyrrha forced her exhaustion, tiredness and even her memories of… that boy into a tight ball and thrust it to the back of her mind – she'd been given a mission by J… her team leader and all the Grimm in Remnant wouldn't stop her getting it done.
Feeling the descent accelerating Pyrrha stood up, mechanically arranging her weapons as she would before any fight and snatching her scroll from her belt, fingers flying as she quickly sent terse, fast messages. Inform the chain of command, locate the others; the well-hidden lessons from old Professor Port cut through her grief like a scalpel as the scroll pinged green – messages sent and received. Looking forwards she saw Vale, wracked with nightmares both mortal and Grimm rushing up to meet her and braced as the rocket locker slammed home. She was outside before the doors were half-open, Milo spitting the throat of a shocked beowolf; recognising the threat, the rest of the pack snarled and circled their new enemy before leaping to the attack.
Green eyes hardened to jade and broken heart harder still, Pyrrha leapt to meet them.
XXX
She's safe; the knowledge was a balm to bitter betrayal, the realisation Pyrrha thought him too weak to stand beside her; though she's not wrong – if Ozpin couldn't stop whatever's up there nothing I do's going to make a damned difference. The thought, however, wasn't true; he'd already made a difference to both Pyrrha, however much she might hate him for it, and whoever she came across in Vale – she'd save far more people than he ever could. Watching the lockers' flight he tightened his fist, the warmth for his friend ebbing away as he slowly turned and faced the short, open-air walk to the ruined tower like a man facing the gallows.
Jaune Arc was many things, not all of them good; he was a lair to family, friend and foe alike and a cheat, proven by his fraudulent entry into Beacon itself. One thing he was not, however, was a coward; he was afraid yes, had been afraid throughout the Academy and by the Brothers he was terrified now; but his decisions and their consequences were his own. By his hand there was no-one here but him so weak, scared noodley him would have to do this, however much he didn't want to. For all his talk of being a knight, here at the crux he knew and felt like exactly what he was – a clumsy, awkward boy on the cusp of manhood, half-trained with weapons he'd stolen and armour a girl two years younger than him had helped forge, completely unready, out of his depth and taking a step forward.
One became two, three and more; the fear was still on his shoulder, a Nevermore he couldn't dislodge but could carry; he was halfway to the tower door before belatedly realising something, checking around frantically before sighing in relief that no-one was around to see his blade still sheathed; yeah, that would have been embarrassing. Crocea Mors felt strangely heavy as he tugged it from the scabbard but the weight was a comfort, helping earth some of his writhing nerves. The sword seemed as ageless as always, reflecting his face as well now as it had the first time he'd seen it hung in the dining room of his home,
"Well, could be worse," he was surprised his voice was level, then surprised again as he realised he'd walked into Ozpin's ruined office, "at least they'll be able to identify my body now." The face in the steel smiled wanly, a little colour beginning to bleed back into it as he glanced around the shattered room; I was stood right there when he said I'd be staying, after they found out about my transcripts. Glancing at the fateful spot on the floor Jaune felt a rush of melancholy before heaving a breath, tearing his focus from the past and back on the blade in his hand. Crocea Mors said nothing but Jaune felt an urge to keep talking, to unburden himself in what were likely his last moments,
"I don't know what I was thinking trying to be a hero; I'm not, Oum help me I'm not even a hunter," the admission made him feel lighter, stopped the tremors in his arm as he went on, "all I know is that whatever's going on Pyrrha was something to do with it, so was that other woman in the glass jar. It has to end," he wasn't sure if he was speaking to the blade or himself anymore, "Cinder, she's the one who did this and she's not going to stop, she's got to be stopped or she'll just burn Beacon down and go after everyone else. I can't, that can't happen," faces of friends, teachers and rivals flickered through his mind as he closed his eyes, feeling tears prick their corners before a heavy impact from above rocked the creaking structure,
"The hell…?" Nothing human could hit stone that hard, "Great, now there's her and whatever that was up there." There was a thrill of fear but no more, grim acceptance settling over him like a shroud as everything that had happened since Pyrrha had, had…; come on, what are you seven – you kissed, she kissed you first and you were getting into it; faded away. There was only him and Crocea Mors, a strange cold feeling starting to burn in the fingers clasped around its hilt as he pushed through the rubble of the office,
"This is madness and it's going to kill me," the admission was a relief, the chill now seeping up his arm robbing the approaching reaper of his cowl of fear as he reached the final flight of stairs, "but if it keeps them safe I'll take it. You're the blade I've lived with and the blade I'm going to die with," he managed a bleak chuckle, swinging the blades' crossguard up to just below his tear-stained eyes, "after everything I've screwed up since I got here I'm doing this last thing right," the cold brought with it clarity and delusion; other faces, some familiar, others unknown but all vaguely resembling his own shadowed his reflection in the pristine steel as the final words of the prayer-like verse came to him unbidden, "let us seek this heart of evil and still its life of pain. Cut well old friend, and then…" a sudden wind whipped his tears away as he ascended the final steps, beheld his enemy and saw in a heartbeat what he had to do,
"…farewell."
XXX
Really?
The disappointment gave rise to a sneering laugh – this was it, this was all the soul-leech who'd opposed her mistress for millennia would send against her? Even to Mercury's biting humour Jaune Arc hadn't registered as a joke, so far beneath the cybernetic assassin he'd not even considered him; now here he was holding that ridiculous sword up as though it could help. The warming rush of her rightful power tickled her veins as she strode forwards, quelling the great beast behind her with a small pulse of dominating power via her gift from the Grimm queen as he looked up at the Wyvern,
"Well, well," her sultry purr did little to hide the malice in her tone, "I hoped for a lion to kill and they sent me a lamb to slaughter; no," she shook her head, raven mane fluttering behind her as her heels clicked on beaten stone, "no this won't do. I've won Arc, do you understand what that means? Evidently not," her long-suffering sigh as he continued walking was honed from long experience dealing with Tyrians' psychoses, "I got what I wanted and now I'm feeling generous – turn around, walk away and tell whatever lackey replaced Ozpin that his precious Maiden is mine. You'll live a little longer, a fair deal don't you think?" Her victim; she refused to think of Jaune Arc as an opponent; said nothing, opening his shield as his slow, metronomic pace ate up the space between them. All those stairs must have tired him, poor lamb; the thought made her snicker as she flexed Midnights' string; better end this quick.
Like thought the bow rose, aimed and loosed, orange death streaking towards the target who seemed almost oblivious to the approaching end… she blinked, disbelieving before shaking her head angrily. She'd aimed for his throat, a pure kill-shot and by luck or judgement he'd twisted his body and tilted his head slightly, pivoting out the arrows' way; damn it, waste of a good arrow. Not that I really need them now; the Maiden's magic roiled in her soul, intoxicating even as she'd barely begun to grasp her new potential; Midnight will have to go, it's served its purpose, or it will have when this insect dies! He'd dodged a second shot, ducking under the bolt sent at his forehead and Cinder's temper frayed; a volley of three left him no space to avoid them and he didn't, lifting his shield instead.
It was the wrong move and her smirk was wicked, the explosion of his end a final discordant note to the symphony she'd played on this miserable city. Turning to the drake perched behind her she spat an order to destroy the tower top to prevent the remaining kingdoms knowing the truth of Vale before pausing at the Wyverns' warning rattle. Did it…?; shock gave way to outrage; channelling power through her Grimm arm Cinder made to bring the rebellious beast to heel before realising it wasn't looking at her, instead hunched forwards with the smaller Grimm it had spawned likewise growling from beneath its perch. An unsettling feeling worming its way down her slender back Cinder gripped her weapon tightly, turning with a snarl as through the clearing smoke of her shot she saw her target standing,
"Really, too stupid to know when to die," she growled, her fury only stoked further as she realised the dumb knight wasn't paying her any heed; his eyes were fixed on the gargantuan Grimm beside but behind her. His face was blank, shield smoking but unmarred as she broke her bow down and hefted the twin swords menacingly,
"Remember this could have been painless," she declared, stepping in front of her masters' great creation and catching his attention. The wretch finally broke his stare-down with the Wyvern to look at her and his expression fully ignited her fury; too many people looked over her with such blank indifference, as though she wasn't there and didn't matter; no more, no more and never again! I have power now, I will not be looked down on ever again!
Growling at this pathetic excuse for a Huntsman who dared to look past her Cinder Fall charged, silently swearing she'd crush those eyes beneath her heels as she had so many in the past.
Unaware of his opponents' dark thoughts, Jaune Arc met her halfway.
XXX
This wasn't a fight; it was barely even training.
His negligible strength advantage was more than cancelled out by her blatant superiority in speed, skill and technique; she had led their dance from the first step, skipping over and around his few offensive tricks and trying to prize open his metal shell to reach the juicy meat within. Swapping between bow and blades almost at will Cinder cavorted around the broken rooftop, her opponent lumbering in her wake when he wasn't trying to dodge or block her relentless aggression. He knew nothing of how she used her Dust or Semblance and had, she knew, nothing to engage her with at range – he was a golem, forced to shield or soak up the punishment she dished out and unable to retaliate unless she all but invited him to strike or got careless.
Still, though, he stood in front of her.
Weathering her fiercest attacks.
Parrying her most lethal blows.
Guarding against her fastest shots.
Tanking her quickest, most creative and underhanded uses of her Scorching Caress, even magnified by the Dust sewn into her clothes.
And always with that same damned look on his face.
She was winning, she was scoring hits past his blade and buckler even if his shield made using her Semblance to slip Midnight under his guard too much of a risk; the hits just didn't seem to do anything. She'd heard from her underlings he was an aura beast but as it deflected another blow he'd only half-caught on his shield and she swayed aside from his riposte stab this was ridiculous. She was on a different level, a queen facing a pawn; she sped up further, Midnight's blades raising a demented racket as they hammered into the shield and armour and Cinder snarled aloud as once more she was defied, allowing herself to slide backwards at his shove to break contact. How?; flicking her head to the side Cinder made to attack again only to pause; sweat?; the droplet slid down her temple torturously; I'm… this is taking too long!;
"So that's why," drawing herself to full height she smirked, "they put you on that team to let the Invincible Girl blunt her weapons," memories of the redhead; popular, beloved by all and blessed from birth; almost broke her foxy expression as she regarded the knight in a different light, "You've outdone yourself lasting this long, I supposed being beaten around by your team toughened you up if nothing else. Something I said?" She queried innocuously, backtracking from a wide swing and flicking a blade forward, seeking to rap her opponent's head like a disobedient puppy though he parried on the backswing and she continued her retreat, content to bait for now,
"Jaune Arc, last in his year for combat; what was it, two-and-thirty-six, one of them coming when your opponent tripped on his laces and fell out of bounds?" Reciting the scraps of information she recalled from reading Emeralds' observations of Pyrrha's team she honed her tongue to loosen the armour where Midnight had failed, "You don't belong here – you've done well," it almost physically hurt to admit that, "but you can't touch me. Go away, retreat with honour," she swept a sword towards the stairs he'd come from, holding back a smirk as for the first time in the fight he stepped shorter, considering her offer, "run back to your friends and train, do whatever you hunters do; maybe you can give me an actual challenge when we meet again. I'm giving you your life," technically she wasn't lying; she'd shoot him in the back the second she saw it but then she'd never said how long he'd live for, "don't waste it."
XXX
From the sword side you shouldn't block directly, collisions can disrupt your stance…
New-born it knew no better than to leap towards its prey, completely ignorant to its own peril…
…instead move out the path of the attack, let them overreach…
A step back and to the right, careful not to cross his legs in the step as that may have tripped him…
…divert if they lash out…
Crocea Mors rose to the guard position; surprised by its target moving unexpectedly the creature was too shocked to swipe with its claws…
…strike if they don't, not too hard though…
The ancient blade parted Grimm hide like butter, the young beowolf sprawling as it landed…
…finish them when they stop moving, otherwise their momentum might pull your blade out your hand…
A stab and a twist, in and out…
…though make it quick…
All thoughts of theatrics and cool flourishes had been painfully beaten out of him…
…and always remember they're seldom alone – keep your eyes open for other threats.
A single glance took in the other new-spawned Grimm, the kin to the reckless beowolf he'd just put down clustered around their monstrous parent. Locking eyes with the beast for a split-second Jaune heard the hiss of repugnance but didn't react to it, setting his eyes forwards once he was certain that threat was contained for now. Have to deal with that later; the obvious question of how was subsumed by his current calmness, mental recitals of lessons both official and post-school coupled with generous aura reserves allowing him to keep pace with his deadly opponent; though that's a strange stance. One blade pointing to the side, one angled down – maybe a feint, or preparing a scissor strike? Here she comes, one lunge one swing – alright, just like we practiced against Ren…
XXX
Her arm, her whole frame trembled at his unspoken answer.
Even as her furious hiss cowed the newly-spawned Grimm into obedience she'd watched his textbook response to a pouncing beowolf, effective if somewhat slow. His gaze, however, was what had rocked her – the impassive cobalt gaze she'd been subject to all night had flared with azure brilliance when it had fallen on the perching dragon, the silent outburst so unexpected she grinned; this was it, his charge. Midnight rose to drown that blue fire in his lifeblood, then lowered in shock as the flame banked down, fading back to passive indifference as his attention returned to her. He's mocking me, not taking me seriously; her wrath waxed as his waned, turbulent magic threatening to spill over as her grin became a bare-fanged snarl; how dare he – I'm the Fall Maiden?! I will not be overlooked, not again; knuckles whitened on hilts as that uncaring gaze clawed at her composure, dark memories of abandonment, deprivation and pained servitude resurrected by disinterest; not this time!
For the first time in the fight she gave voice to her bubbling wrath, crying out in defiance of her past life as she thrust towards the rim of his shield, looking to knock it aside; her follow-up swipe was just launching when she suddenly stumbled, the resistance she'd expected simply not there. He didn't move; golden eyes flickered over his form, trying to see how she'd missed and how to recover; did he drop…; no, she realised with a flare of dread, he hadn't dropped his shield.
He'd retracted it.
Even as the realisation dawned the heavy metal sheath pushed into her extended forearm, Midnight forced away as he stepped into her space. Inside her aborted swing the advantage was his and Crocea Mors swung into her hip, her aura saving her skin but not her elegant dress as Jaune angled his blade inwards, pinning her in place before whipping his sheathe at her collarbone. Knowing how debilitating a strike there could be she lent forwards, taking it on the shoulder instead and grimacing as her aura took another blow; she kicked, trying to back him off with her foot or knee but he was too close, almost hugging her with his sword-arm and sawing his weapon against her kidneys, abrading her soul-protection like a file through a block of wood. From far away came the sharp clink of metal on stone and her elbow was seized, the Fall Maidens' stomach and mind lurching vertiginously as Jaune dragged her into a street fight.
Chest to chest and with one arm held Midnight was all but useless and any Dust or her Scorching Caress would burn her as much as him. His blade was a worsening ache gouging into her back and Midnight could do little, the obsidian blades designed to cut with poised momentum rather than grind a stationary target. Her pommel strikes rattled off his pauldron and as his greater strength and aura bent her backwards over the ancient brand she felt a thrill of fear – her current position was bad but if he took her to the floor…; no, never again! He can't, he will not…; ire flared to smother her fear and with a roar it was free, her left arm igniting to force hi…
"Aaahhh!" An unimagined attack to her most vulnerable point provoked an involuntary scream, Cinder instinctively freezing at the savage bite to her jugular. Jaune abused her paralysis viciously, grinding his teeth down for priceless seconds before simultaneously ripping his head back and yanking her forwards with his scalded left hand. Keep her disorientated, whatever that was burns; he'd felt it even through his aura but luckily the contact had been minimal; that ability did, however, mean he couldn't keep this fight close.
That didn't mean she'd get away freely.
Having hauled her into his chest-plate he then pushed the arm he held roughly, the tall woman rocked as her instinctive pull against his own was reinforced by the sudden thrust; he then tugged again, harder this time, letting go of her arm as he hauled her onto a brutal left knee. The impact stopped her dead and doubled her over; he bumped with his hip, avoiding roasted chestnuts as her left sword stabbed at him out instinctively, aiming to impale any advance as she slewed around to face him square on. But he hadn't stepped forwards, instead stamping his left foot down for momentum; Crocea Mors was still in his right hand and as it swung up he seized the hilt two-handed, adding the torque of his descending leg and the strength of both arms to the rising sword. It would have decapitated a King Taijitu, both heads at once; instead it hammered into and under Cinder Falls' floating ribs and sent her reeling right, only reflexes ingrained over years of combat practice letting her keep her feet and stagger away a few paces before, unseen by her opponent, the consequences of their vicious struggle hit both body and brain like a sledgehammer.
XXX
Side aflame, barely able to keep down breath and one hand clasped to her throbbing neck Cinder panted in abject shock; with an effort she wrenched her fingers free and stared at them aghast. He, he just…; she felt sick, her stomach threatening to rebel – no blood but her pulse pounded against the indents of his teeth, a mark of violation that bit far deeper than her flesh. She shuddered uncontrollably, disbelief and primal terror from almost having her throat ripped out combining with older, more harrowing memories; from mental graves ghostly hands and fingers rose, grabbing the arms and throat of her consciousness and shaking it as their physical counterparts had once shaken her like a helpless doll. Torn between past and present she forgot her Queens' gifts, the Maidens' power and her own hard-earned skills and abilities; once again she was a child with tears and snot slobbering down her face, trying to croak a simple question through swollen, bloodied lips; …why…?
As before no answer came, the girl left behind in the dark past and the woman snapped back to the windswept present by whistling steel. Wrenching away from the swing that would have likely splintered her cracked ribs she back-pedalled, Jaune's pause to recover his shield her only saving grace as he closed her down relentlessly. Confidence tattered and focus destroyed she could only try to parry frantically, Midnight shaking in her grip as Crocea Mors at last met its obsidian counterparts squarely. Robbed of her supporting Semblance first one, then the other blade shattered under the heavy strikes, fragile obsidian no match for tempered steel. Pain blossomed in her arms; …thin-weak no-defence always-weak…; repeated impacts; …stop why-no-stop please-end…; staggering backwards; away safe don't-be-seen don't-look…; agony in her belly; so-hungry don't-smell eat sour-taste-clench; then up to her body and face; not-pretty can't-be-cute jealous-hurt-pain they-break-things-my-things; tearing her dress; no-please-no mine-not-much no-break no-hurt pLease;thrown onto her back; leave-gO head-pain forget-all no-sEe-me; the moon above; broken-shAttered glowing cold-shiVer-stay-Awake; a tall figure looming over her; cold-eyes-stAring not-pretty cold-eyes Know-not-prettY stop-pLease-looking cOld-eyEs-lookINg nO-look-aT-ME…
XXX
He knew what he had to do and he'd been taught how to do it.
He wasn't the fastest, most skilled or strongest student of the academy but no-one could fault his determination; while the rest of Beacon slept or partied Jaune was in the training pits drilling his latest lessons against the bots down there. Every day he lasted a little longer, hit home with more blows and in this crucible all that blood and sweat told, Crocea Mors a silver blur as it crashed into and through her twin blades. His opponent was rattled, shaking so badly Professor Goodwitch would have called a halt but she wasn't here and this wasn't a spar; this was real so he rammed a stop-thrust into Cinder's belly, folding her over. People would die if he stopped so there was a musical clink as Crocea Mors' tip touched the floor before he wrenched it skywards, the thunderous impact of the blades' full length catapulting the Fall Maiden onto her back unmoving, her elegant dress rent. It could only end with death so he span his sword around to skewer her; it was Beacon, Vale and all in it or her so it could never be her.
The longsword rose then fell as Jaune hastily backed away, a flare of red power consuming the prone woman. Cinder's shriek empowered the fires' roar as the knight reconsidered this new information and hastily weighed his options. Her Semblance is fire-based, powerful as well; unable to get close enough for a fatal stab Jaune caught his breath and held his guard, bruises from earlier in the fight starting to swell and his ears telling him the Grimm were getting antsy. He remained alert, glancing at the monsters but no more and that caution let him leap aside as his opponent rocketed upwards, illuminating the dark night with a plume of fire and simply… hovering there. I should have taken Crater-Face up on that gun expose visit; the wistful thought drifted through his mind as Cinder Fall gazed down at him with blazing eyes, coronas of fire flickering around her fists; this is going to be difficult, though at least she's got nice legs…; the fire parted as she drew her hands back and hormones briefly bubbled atop his focus as he saw the damage from his strikes; …and a scandalous taste in lingerie.
Luckily he always exercised in full armour; train hard, fight easy and eat pancakes as Nora liked to say; so was able to duck, dip and dive out the way of the combusting death Cinder flung at him. Keep moving or she'll light you up; though his shield could likely stop the flames, the force behind them could stagger him and it would only take one slip for his airborne opponent to bury him in fire. Fortunately her aim was erratic, likely a concussion from her head hitting the stone not a minute ago but this advantage was cancelled out by her apparent control over the Grimm slipping. The Creeps and Beowolves were growling, the wings of their grotesque parent rising as it shuffled its feet, aggressive but still held back for now, just. Eyes narrowed Jaune quickly summed up his options; Cinder was out of reach and didn't seem to be running out of fuel any time soon and Grimm around him were a hinderance; if she recovered her aim or they engaged him he was in trouble.
Not to mention that damned lizard is still spraying this crap all over the roof; recognising Grimm tar being splashed about as the dragon shifted restlessly he ducked another blast of fire and checked his footing, preparing to continue his mad dash before something caught his eye, a small flicker of fire that hadn't died out. The glance that forged the link between what he was seeing and an end to this fight almost cost him everything – yellow fury raced over the buckler he managed to raise in the nick of time, the fireballs' explosion knocking him off his feet as he feared. He hit the ground with a clatter, immediately dropping his shield to roll as Cinder smelt blood and went for the kill. Screaming in with a cloak of cascading flame the Fall Maiden hurled blast after blast; lost in hatred, madness and the darkest parts of her past Cinder bent every effort to erase the source of that pain from Remnant.
By her bad aim more than his judgement he made it to a knee, then a parry with Crocea Mors' flat let him ride the explosion of another flaming missile at the cost of several steps, an expelled gasp of air and a splash of lethal heat over his front, the fire catching his clothes alight. Damn it, can't drop and roll; he could only run, beating the smouldering hoodie and top of his jeans with his free hand to stop it getting worse. Smoke stung his eyes, chapped his lips and rasped his lungs but he'd seen what he needed to do – now it was just a case of lasting long enough to get it done.
XXX
Burn-hate cold-eyes-staring no-more burn-them-burn-themburnthemalll…
She had power, power was good and warm and would keep the cold eyes away, make them look at her with fearful eyes and she would like that, she would be the one doing the shaking, the hurting like the Queen had said, the Queen with the red eyes who was so tall and made her and the other children do those nasty chores. No, not right, the Queen was… who was the Queen, was it her, was that why this power hurt sometimes? It hadn't hurt her husband or her daughter where were they, how long ago had it been since… had she not died?
Cold-sleep flying-find-warm sink-grow burn-kill-cold-eyes no-more-cold never-cold-again…
Broken window letting in the snow, coughs like broken glass but not allowed to cough, that made them angry and cause pain but now she caused pain and cold eyes would not see her up here. She was high now, looking down at the cold eyes and throwing the fire at them making them burn until they were gone. But not all the fire some fire had to stay with her so she wouldn't be cold, keep her warm like her little sister curled around her back but she was an only child no-one but her no-one to keep her warm and the window was still broken.
Heat-more-fire cold-eyes-running-stopping laugh-cold-eyes laugh-now…
High free flying so often she'd dreamed of flying and now she was above everyone else like the Queen she was but the Queen had given her power so she wasn't the Queen but she was and they all were and who are all these families they weren't hers she had no-one but her drawings and too much the fire was here throw it at cold-eyes too much let it out who are we why am I flying too much the shadow is rising the broken moon is pretty but broken is there something behind me keep cold-eyes away too much more fire cold eyes stopping am I tired can't sleep they will hurt too much stay awake look up…
Cold.
Cold-eyes.
Kill…
Waving that metal stick.
…Maim…
Looking.
Waving.
Hurting hurting it hurts stopitstopitstophurtingstophurtingme…
…BURN!
XXX
I am a masochist with a death-wish; another idle thought at the last glance, all the pieces were in place. Whatever fire Semblance Cinder must have been a double-edged sword, her expression agonised as she writhed, wailed and, crucially, dropped her altitude. He span and faced her down, the two foes diametrically opposed and the far-off rattle of gunfire, distant explosive crumps and hisses from the new-spawned Grimm faded away – for that heartbeat there was just them in all of Remnant, the shattered moon above a silent spectator. Setting his feet Jaune met the maddened gaze of his enemy directly, Crocea Mors rising to cover half his face with its flat then slowly lowered to his side, the warriors' salute to his enemy in this case a barb to her ego.
Throughout their battle the knight of Beacon had quickly realised Cinder Fall was egomaniacal on a level that made Cardin Winchester look like a Faunus rights activist – when he'd capitalised on her mistake she'd exploded, outraged that a lesser being dared to strike her. Complimenting her, treating her as a peer was insufferable, a venomous insult to her pride and as he'd hoped it broke her completely. A pyre raced into the sky, vermillion malignance howling upwards as though scouring the heavens before collapsing back on its conjuror; Jaune had just enough time to snatch a last breath, close his eyes and bring his sword in front of his face as the inferno was hurled towards him, Cinders' scream of insane outrage somehow audible over the whoosh of flame.
His aura rose white-gold against the crimson fury, guarding his flesh but doing nothing against the hellish heat; his skull was a kettle, eyes boiling in their sockets and if he dared breathe his lungs would be torn from his chest by the firestorm. The agony was all-consuming, incinerating everything that was or would ever be Jaune Arc; the knight gritted his teeth, knuckles white and arms shaking as his heels were forced backwards by the immensity of Cinder Falls' power. He'd prepared but there was no preparation for this; he would have crumbled to ash had he stood for himself alone – instead he drowned the pain with memories of those he stood in place of, unyielding purpose bracing him. Glory, honour, heroism – none of those tawdry trinkets held Crocea Mors in the crucible, Jaune Arc did so…
…to make sure graceful Pyrrha; his instructor, confidant and truest friend; could be the beacon of hope Remnant needed….
…to give livewire Nora and stoic Ren, his siblings in all but blood their chance of finally getting together-together…
…so that cheerful Ruby, his sister in the socially-awkward club, had another day crooning over her baby and sneezing holes in Beacon's courtyard...
…for a chance that someone else would see the girl behind the mirrored mask cold Weiss, his snow-angel, hid from the world behind….
…for exuberant Yang and silent Blake to spend more time with their beloved sister and their treasured books respectively….
…to preserve the home of bombastic Port, manic Oobleck, shy Peach and stern Goodwitch, who had each given him a chance…
…in lost Ozpin's memory, the headmaster who'd believed in him when even he had lost faith in himself…
…to prove to his mother, his father and his siblings that he could grasp the dream they hadn't believed in despite loving him to the broken moon and back…
…for Beacon, Vale and all those innocents who couldn't fight the Grimm, feared the encroaching dark and needed something to believe in…
…for those reasons and a hundred more he baptised his blade and body in the flame, burning and dying so that he could take that damned…
…monster…
…down!
His eyes snapped open, the pallid light before them parting the waves of unceasing red and by this wan brilliance the man, the knight Jaune Arc; beyond pain, beyond fear and beyond concern for his own survival; drew his arm back and hurled Crocea Mors, a burning brand to the heart of darkness threatening all he loved and cared for.
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Cinder
She-is we-are who-is-Cinder…?
Fall would see that knight burn.
Cold-eyes-looking make-hurt-pain fire-warmth need-stop-cold
Her Semblance and the Maiden
Us-we-many lived-died-flew skin-sink-in-power
magic granting her irresistible
Power-need-strong no-cold-eyes make-fear-eyes-look-me
strength and she used it
Use-me-all me-now-use they-no-me-use-now
all. She descended by degrees, the fire holding her aloft
Keep-fire-warm no-cold-eyes burn-cold-eyes stay-warm no-cold
expending as her rictus
Smile-me-now they-say-no-smile me-power no-hurt-me-power
grin stretched further, splitting bruised
Pain-me no-hurt-no-more no-cold warm-power
lips she revelled in get…
…DOWN!
In a split-second of clarity she dropped, a sharp pain no-hurt-me no-more in her ankle as a white streak shot overhead, passing so close it blew back her hair no-pretty pretty-them-hurt as she dropped just beneath it. The shock broke her concentration, the fire dying warm-dying cold-cough-pain as a rattling scream tore painhurtpainstopstopplease at her eardrums. Driven to her knees, hands clamped to the side of her head she looked over her shoulder, the terrible keening rattling her bones as her appalled gaze saw red-white fire race over black flesh warm-pretty warm-hurt how-hurt-warm. The ancient blade, lodged to the quillons in its breastbone and aflame with magical fire, ignited the Grimm tar sloughing from the Queens' looming-tall-them great creation and it went up like a torch, its panicking children running from the inferno and trampling looming-them-pain hurt-me-hurt-painstoppainnohurtmore her as their parent screamed.
The mortal wound, unwittingly empowered by her nascent magic, swiftly overcame even the dragon, the leviathan collapsing forwards in its death throes unheeding of the small form in its looming-hurt-warm warm-hurt-no-please shadow. Her broken scream swallowed by its dying bellow, Cinder threw up her arms noloomingnonoplease in futile defiance as the effervescing corpse landed painpainhurtstopstoppleaseno, its bulk swallowing her in darkness and flame hurtwarmhurtpainnowarm-nopain-nohurt, a fitting gravestone for stop-no…please-warm-no…hurt...please… one such as her.
…stop…
XXX
The dragon was dead, the threat removed; the deed and he were done.
He fell to his knees, the scream of the dying Grimm echoing in his ears as his dimming vision saw the black flesh burning. Shadows feathered his vision, he might have smiled but couldn't be sure as everything felt so far away and he was tired, so tired he couldn't keep fight off sleep. The cold stone was surprisingly comfortable as he pitched forward, feeling nothing of the impact though the darkness trying to claim him. The bonfire of the dead drake faded as he closed his eyes, already dreaming of a faint voice calling his name.
Jaune hoped it was his grandmother; it would be so, nice to see, her… again…
XXX
A/N: Okay, hopefully you enjoyed my AU take on the (I assume) climatic battle of one of the series – now a quick question for the readers; would you prefer me to leave this as an open-ended one-shot or add a few more chapters which might tie some of these loose ends up? As mentioned before I'm not even an amateur in RWBY knowledge so please correct me if anything is obviously wrong and let me know if you'd like to read more.
For those who've read my other work (and anyone else who's curious), the latter part of this story where Cinder diverged from my normal writing conventions was her undergoing a mental break in the middle of the battle – from what I understand the attack on Beacon was culmination of a long-term plan of hers that ended in her victory and Pyrrha's death in the show, though Ruby crimped her plan via some sort of pseudo-Sharinghax (sorry Naruto fans but that got ridiculous at the end). In this AU the success of her plan and acquisition of the Fall Maiden, which may include memories of her previous lives, coupled with Jaune being a tank and surprising her with a traumatic attack triggered her snap. Hopefully this was clear in the story but if you've any idea how I could improve writing please don't hesitate to let me know.
Final shout-out; a large part of this fic was a personal tribute to one of the greatest paragons of knighthood ever put on the screen, Sir Orrin Neville-Smythe from the almost-criminally unknown animated classic A Flight of Dragons. Seriously if you've never seen this film just type his name into YouTube; his prayer and final battle are referenced by Jaune above and to this day they give me chills. If you get a chance to watch A Flight of Dragons take it – the animation is gorgeous, the music and score is top-notch, the story is humorous in parts, sad in places, dark in others and coherent throughout, dragons are explained by science and the bid bad is voiced by Darth Vader!
Seriously, go watch A Flight of Dragons. Right now!
Until next time or chapter, depending on demand.
XXX