Beta: Dark Whisper from HarryPotterFanfiction
The Fall Project
War
Before the Storm
"Where are we going, Milo?" Yang asked, looking around the unfamiliar paths of downtown Mistral as she followed his lead.
He peered back at her with a grin. "I told you, you earned your surprise."
"Yeah, but what is it?" she questioned.
"I can't tell you, that's what makes it a surprise," he countered. She rolled her eyes, taking a moment to soak in the scenery.
The streets seemed busy for a late afternoon, even if it was the weekend. People moved about their daily routine as if there wasn't a war on the horizon, as if Grimm attacks hadn't increased ten-fold over the past two weeks.
She shook those thoughts from her head, looking instead at the people passing by, most of which did a double-take upon seeing Milo. Many would whisper to the people they traveled with, occasionally pointing in his direction as if he were some sort of celebrity phenomenon. Thankfully, no one seemed interested enough to bother them.
Even Yang could tell that Milo noticed their prying eyes. His wings were tense, slightly raised as if he were about to spring into action.
She chuckled as she admired the golden luster of his feathers. For someone with the most memorable feature on Remnant, he sure did hate being recognized by strangers.
Eventually he turned left, moving briskly down an alleyway. She followed suit, lifting an eyebrow when he opened the door of a blacksmith's shop and waved her inside.
She frowned upon entering, wondering if this was a joke. "Farming tools? Milo, what are we doing here?"
"I had the same first impression," he laughed, then walked over to a small counter at the far wall, just to the left of a very heavy-looking metal door.
As if on queue, the door opened wide and a young woman stepped out, her white hair tied back and her bright red eyes widening when they fell on the avian faunus' wings. She stood at roughly the same height as Yang, and had a joyful air about her.
Quickly recovering, she gave them both a warm smile. "Welcome to Clovis' blacksmith shop. What can I do for you?"
"Good to see you're doing well, Reyna," Milo said with a wide smile.
The young woman blinked in confusion, wondering if they had met before. Her eyes widened and her jaw slacked when she finally realized who he was.
"Nova?!" she gasped.
"Actually my name is Milo. Nova was just..." he hesitated, glancing at Yang. "Well it wasn't my real name."
"Oh my gosh look at you!" she exclaimed in excitement and awe. "You look amazing! How did this happen, anyway?" she asked, gesturing at his wings.
"It's a long story," he shrugged. "How are your arms holding up?" he asked, cleverly deflecting the conversation away from himself.
Yang suddenly noticed the white bandages wrapped around the woman's forearms. How had she not seen them earlier?
"Oh they're doing fine these days. Mostly all I feel is a little tingle on occasion," Reyna replied. "They do get a little sensitive from time to time."
He nodded. "You got pretty lucky. With all that acid damage I thought you might lose feeling in your arms altogether."
Reyna stopped listening halfway through his sentence, however, choosing instead to give Yang a once-over.
"Hey, you never told my you have a beautiful girlfriend following you around," she teased, making Milo chuckle awkwardly.
The blonde smiled and offered a handshake, which was quickly accepted. "Yang Xiao Long. We met back in Beacon and have been inseparable ever since. Isn't that right sweetie?"
The young man rolled his eyes and tried not to grin. "Is Clovis around? I'm here to pick up an order."
"An order? Milo, what in the world are you going to do with a pair of garden shears?" Yang irritatedly asked.
Reyna stifled a giggle. "For the best smith in Mistral, Clovis really likes to play jokes on people. Unfortunately he's not here today, but I can fetch his apprentice for you. A word of warning though, she can get a bit excited!" she explained, opening the large door behind her and waving them inside.
Yang glanced around in surprise, then sneered in Milo's direction. "Okay fine, I get the joke now," she said with a smirk. "Anyway, this is nice, but I don't really need any weapons. I manage just fine with my gauntlets."
"We're not here for weapons," he declared, much to her confusion.
Not a second later the door flew open, and they were each showered with bright red rose petals. The red reaper looked absolutely giddy, nearly bouncing with excitement as she held a large black case in her arms.
"Yang!" Ruby yelled, seemingly too loud for her small frame and young age. "I couldn't believe it when Milo asked me and Clovis to make this and it was really hard to make but we kept trying and finally made something that works and hopefully you like it and it works and-"
"Ruby!" Reyna's high pitched voice called from the adjacent room. "You left the red-hot tongs on wood again!"
Yang caught a whiff of something burning, noticing saw her sister's eyes widen and her cheeks flush.
"I-ah have to go..." she said, placing the case on the table and then then whipped around the corner, showering them once again in rose petals.
Milo brushed himself off, then gestured for Yang to open the gift, giving her a wide smile. She sneered at him inquisitively before stepping up, flipping the latches with an audible click.
He smiled when her jaw went slack, her eyes flickering to his with a look of astonishment on her face. No doubt she was wondering how much a new prosthetic arm costed, though he actually earned it through a simple favor.
She reached out with her left arm, brushing her fingers across the black and gold smooth surface, and admiring the sleek design.
"I-I don't know what to say," she quietly breathed. "This is amazing..."
"Well are you going to test it out or just stare at it all day?" he teased, earning a quick jab to his shoulder.
With some assistance and after working out a kink or two, Yang was able to swap out her old, finicky arm for the shiny new one. She took it slowly, taking in the completely different feel of the new prosthetic.
He ensured that the designs were specifically adjusted for her size and strength, making it respond as close to her natural arm as possible. The result was more like a human-machine interface, the prosthetic registering in the brain the same way her real arm would. With the proper sensors, she could theoretically regain the sense of touch, though that kind of technology was not yet even in the prototype stage.
Milo was pulled back to reality when Yang wrapped her arms around him, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. He returned her embrace, feeling his heartbeat quicken with every moment they were intertwined.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"It was nothing," he responded, stifling a shiver as her left hand brushed the back of his neck. She lifted her head, looking up to meet his gaze.
Lilac. Such an odd color when it came to eyes, yet beautiful in its own unique way. It was so easy to get lost in those eyes, knowing that she cared for him like no one else did.
He found himself nervous, or was it excited? So difficult to say, as were his feelings for her. Was this some lustful desire, caused by three years of loneliness and the life-changing separation from Pyrrha? Perhaps it was simply the stresses of war that confused him, without which the answer would be clear and simple.
One thing was certain; Yang was shockingly gorgeous. From her wavy golden hair, like so many silken strands, to her shapely figure and fair complexion. Strong yet gentle, firm yet kind, beautiful yet deadly.
She was his escape from the world; the shining light in an otherwise darkness-filled life.
Her eyes seemed heavy as they inched ever closer, her breathing deep and warm against his skin. Her fingers dug through his hair, causing a tingling sensation that sent sparks down his spine.
A sudden, sharp stab of fear lashed through his heart, making the whirlwind of emotions grow into a raging storm. This was not the right time. He should wait, pull away before things went too far. Logic dictated that this could only lead to more pain than was already inevitable.
As it happened, he loved her too much. His feelings triumphed over his logic, leaving him powerless. He gave in to that feeling, knowing this was the way things ought to be. She was everything to him, and he would do anything to make her happy and keep her safe.
Milo didn't resist when Yang slowly pulled him down, their lips so close he could almost feel it...
The cursed door was flung open as Reyna barged in, eyes glued to a clipboard she held. "Okay, so I just need you to sign this for the warranty, and then you can be on your way!"
"Ugh! I had him and everything!"
The young woman looked up at her customers, noticing the bright red tint on each of their faces, and Yang's fierce glare burning straight at her. "Did you always have red eyes? I could have sworn they were more like a lightish-purple earlier..." she asked, intrigued to meet someone with the same rare eye color.
Yang turned back to Milo, gritting her teeth in frustration. "I am going to kill her."
"I'm sorry, did I interrupt something?" the Huntress asked, noticing the laughter that Milo was desperately trying to hide.
"No, just give me the clipboard," the young blonde nearly ripped it from Reyna's grasp, scribbled her signature on the marked line, then shoved it back into the woman's arms.
"Do we need to do anything with this?" Yang asked the avian, waving a hand at her old prosthetic.
"I would keep it as a backup," he answered with a shrug, "but you don't have to. Ruby could just use it as spare parts if you don't want it."
Expelling a deep breath laced with anger and disappointment, she placed the old piece in the box and latched it shut. "Let's get going," she said, a slight edge in her voice.
When she walked past, Reyna gave Milo a questioning look and nodded in the brawler's direction.
"She'll be fine," he mouthed, then bade her farewell.
They left the shop and quickly made their way back to Haven. The longer they walked, the more Milo found himself pondering the real reason he needed to wait before showing Yang his true feelings.
He wondered if his friends would accept him after all this, if at least Yang would be able to forgive him for the things he was going to do.
War brings out the worst in people, making them do truly terrible things, and he was certainly no exception.
Jaune took a deep breath, trying to calm his erratic nerves. While Pyrrha's new rule about rest helped him with thinking clearly, it did nothing to help him prepare for meeting with real military. They were not likely to take him seriously, but needed his input nonetheless.
That is why he was, at the moment, following Weiss to her older sister's quarters in the Atlas Embassy of Mistral. The outside of the building looked just like all the others in the city, but the inside was completely different from the tight-fitting homestyle feel in most of Mistral. The Atlesian style was often bright white, pristine and uniform. Everywhere he looked, not a speck was out of place. It was a bit unnerving, to see such a state of near-obsessed perfection, seeming so cold and distant compared to designs in Mistral and Vale.
When he questioned the young heiress, she irritatingly stated, 'That's just the way things are in Atlas,' and refused to go into further detail. He smiled at her stubbornness, remembering that she acted the same way in Beacon. Some things never change.
After climbing quite a number of steps and trudging through a seemingly endless maze of halls and doorways, they finally came to Winter's room. Before Weiss lifted her hand to knock, they heard what sounded like shouting, just barely too quiet to understand what was being said.
"Um... If she's busy, maybe we should come back later," he suggested, adjusting the large roll of paper in his arms.
Weiss ignored him completely, her head tilting slightly in confusion. "Who could she be talking to?"
Pursing her lips, she squinted in suspicion before pounding her fist on the door in rapid succession. "Winter! Jaune is here. He says he needs to talk to you about Mistral!" she yelled across the door, making certain that she would be heard.
There was silence for a moment, then a dull thud of something large making contact with something hard. A few voices more could be heard, followed by light steps coming toward the door.
"-so I have to answer the door!" the woman said, her voice just starting to sound through the thick walls.
The door opened just enough for Winter to poke her head through, revealing her slightly pink cheeks, lips pressed in a firm frown, and a few strands of hair out of place. Jaune raised his eyebrow, noticing that she seemed a bit less composed than the last time he saw her. The Schnees were well known for their 'holier-than-thou' attitude, but Winter looked quite flustered at the moment.
"Yes?" she blurted, her inquisitive gaze scanning the intruders. When her icy blue eyes fell on her younger sister, she froze for a moment in surprise. "Weiss!" she exclaimed, "What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to see my sister, of course," she answered, placing her hands on her hips.
A pause followed as the older woman pulled back, slightly pushing the door closed so they could not see inside. She then pulled the door wide, allowing the both of them to enter.
Jaune was disappointed, though not surprised, to see that Winter's abode was not dissimilar from the rest of the embassy; spotless and monochromatic. They were led to the adjacent room where they sat down on a very expensive leather livingroom set, divided by a table at its center. A few brass light fixtures stood at opposite corners of the room, positioned to keep the room bright.
When he sat and fell back against the seatrest, he could tell that these cushions were indeed very, very expensive, feeling the blissful world of comfort that is a perfectly made chair.
If it weren't for the obnoxious squak that echoed throughout the room, he never would have realized that there was a red-eyed crow perched high in the corner, its tiny claws gripping the gently curved brass light fixture. Another tally to add to the growing list of oddities involving Winter.
"Why is there a bird in here?" he decided to ask.
The woman seemed to tense, her eyes flickering up toward the feathered creature. "I'm taking care of him for a friend," she said, sounding quite sure of herself. He glanced at Weiss, who simply waved it off.
If Weiss seemed to accept it, perhaps this behavior wasn't so odd after all.
Once Weiss sat down, she was not slow in her interrogation. Even before they got settled in, she was throwing her sister some very mean looks. "Who were you talking to just now?"
Winter's eyes narrowed and she frowned once again. "I... was on the phone," she declared after a not-so-subtle hesitation.
"And who were you talking to?" the heiress continued, a look of suspicion on her face.
The woman pursed her lips and crossed her arms. "That is confidential. Atlas logistic information and such," she responded, though Jaune could tell that something about what she was saying made her uncomfortable.
Maybe it was bad news, he thought.
"Are you certain it wasn't someone that Father might get mad about?"
Winter gasped, her jaw going firm as she clenched her teeth in anger. That was clearly a sensitive topic, and he noted to keep himself from mentioning it. "Weiss, that is more than enough."
"I'm just saying that we're both in enough trouble, so don't get him in a fuss again just so you can chase some hooligan all over the world. What was his name again? I can hardly remember."
The crow let out a sound that reminded Jaune way too much of a childish snicker.
"I am doing no such thing, Weiss!" she defended, becoming flustered once again. He thought it was odd that Weiss didn't seem to notice the color returning to her sister's cheeks.
"Are you sure? I remember when I was a kid you said you thought he was 'dreamy' and you wouldn't let Father-"
"Weiss!" the woman shouted, jumping to her feet. "Not. Another. Word." Her voice was soft, but lost none of its menacing promise of wrath. The crow squawked again, this time sounding much like a laugh that he could have sworn he's heard before.
"Silence, Qrow!" Winter shouted, pointing a threatening finger in the bird's direction. Surprisingly, the bird chattered a quiet, unintelligible response. "I will cage you!" she threatened, and the creature suddenly went silent.
"The crow's name is Crow?" Jaune asked with a raised eyebrow. "That seems a little unoriginal..."
Winter closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm herself. "Yes, it is quite ironic."
"Ironic?" Weiss asked, but the woman simply ignored the question.
"Now you," she pointed at Jaune, and he felt his nerves surge once again. "You wanted to discuss something with me?"
"Ah- yes!" he fumbled with his rolls of paper, then considered the prying eyes of the heiress. It was imperative that as few people as possible knew of his full plan. "Actually, Weiss, I can take it from here. You should get back to your team," he said, putting a little bit of a push in his tone, hoping she would catch on. Thankfully, the young woman merely studied him for a moment before finally agreeing. She bade her sister farewell, and left the both of them to their devices.
The moment the door clicked shut, Jaune unrolled the large map and placed it on the center table. Winter questioningly raised her eyebrow as he stepped back, then her eyes widened when she recognized a full battle-plan written out on a large map of the city of Mistral.
"Now before you say anything, I have devoted the past three months on nothing but this very strategy. I have thought of every outcome, every asset, every aspect of the coming assault, and found a way to counter it, with the exception of one problem," he explained, his jaw firm and his voice serious.
"That is?" she asked, deciding to at least humor the young man.
"Based on prior attacks, the White Fang deploy roughly five dozen Bullheads in a major offensive. We don't have enough defense against that kind of armored aerial attack, and I need to keep their aircraft from dropping troops at the center of the city," he stated, trying to make sure the Schnee understood the gravity of the situation.
"With this plan in place and their Bullheads kept at bay, I can guarantee that they will not take the city. Does Atlas have anything to offer? Can you do anything?"
Winter said nothing, taking the time to carefully inspect Jaune's map in its entirety. He had drawn a spiked-lattice defensive line around key points in Mistral, even going as far as to provide munitions routes for resupply.
As she continued to read, she realized that this wasn't a plan to fend off a small, one-time attack. Implemented correctly, this could easily hold a large army at bay for months.
She looked up at him, surprised by just how thorough he was in his strategy. "How many people have seen this?" she asked.
"Many people know small pieces of the plan, but only you and I have seen its complete structure," he responded. "A-actually maybe Pyrrha Nikos, my partner. I fell asleep a couple times and she might've seen the plan."
"That doesn't concern me," she stated. "Atlas cannot help you. The airships were badly damaged in Vale and repairs will not be finished for some time. To be quite honest, even if they were finished I doubt the would send them."
Jaune sighed, rubbing his temples. Without enough air support, he would need to pull some of the outer defenses to compensate, leaving the walls susceptible to a breakthrough.
Winter seemed to stare at the crow for a moment, as if searching for an answer. She turned back to the young Huntsman, hands clasped behind her back and her posture straightening. "What do you know about the Four Maidens?"
Even as he was being led to her, the woman named 'Spring,' Jaune could hardly believe what he'd been told. Four women that embodied the seasons, using actual magic rather than dust.
The idea of it was rather unbelievable, yet he decided that even if it turned out to be a hoax, it was worth a look into. Thinking of magic, and the implications thereof, reminded him of what he witnessed in the depths of Amity Coliseum.
Resurrection. The reanimation of ashes, defying all logical explanation, something completely impossible, something... magical.
If magic was real... then did other mythical things come with it? If Milo is quite literally the magical embodiment of a phoenix, are there more people who align with mythical aspects? Jaune promised himself he would look into it, provided he's given enough time.
They were walking for what felt like an eternity as Winter led him deep into the inner city of Mistral. Light was growing dim as the sun fell, making his stomach churn uncomfortably when his eyes fell on a dark corridor or alley.
He knew he shouldn't be afraid. With the best soldier in Atlas in front of him and his shield covering his back, he had plenty of protection. Still, something was unsettling about this part of the city.
"You should know, there is a guard posted with her. She's very good but she might be a little... shall we say 'on edge.' On her last mission her entire division was killed, leaving her the only person left."
Jaune shook his head, feeling pity for them all.
Eventually they stood before a small door that had no outside handle. He was about to knock when Winter snatched his hand and put a finger to her lips, meaning silence was needed.
She reached up with one hand and gently tapped the door just once, then wordlessly counted to five and tapped again.
He felt, more than heard, something moving behind him and whirled around, drawing his sword to meet the intruder. Before his blade could fully slide from it's sheath, a strong hand gripped his arm and he felt the cold pinch of a knife pressed against the underside of his chin.
"Don't you dare move," a rough woman's voice threatened.
"Stand down, Rey!" Winter hissed. "The boy is Ozpin's pupil, and is not to be harmed!"
He was promptly released, and raised his eyebrows when he turned to inspect his attacker.
The middle-aged woman's face was painted matte black, and she wore a dark plastic mask covering her nose and mouth. Her clothes reminded him of Milo's original combat gear; all black, hard leather with a shadow-blending cloak.
She reached to her wrist and pressed a button, making the door let out an audible click as the latch was released. The soldier pushed them both inside, checking for any prying eyes before closing the door once again. The next room was quite bright, and he squinted when his eyes failed to adjust quickly.
"Jaune, this is Rey. She is ex-Atlesian special forces, Shadow division," Winter announced.
Looking to her once again, he saw the skeptical frown she was giving him, along with something else under those eyes that he couldn't quite place.
"Rey, this is Jaune. Year one Beacon student, being groomed for leadership by Headmaster Ozpin. He helped with the evacuation of Vale, and I didn't understand Ozpin's interest until I saw one of his battle strategies for Mistral. He leaves no detail unchecked."
"Almost," he corrected.
"Why are you here?" she questioned, her expression showing nothing but the coldness in her eyes.
"I need help against the Bullhead threat in the coming attack on Mistral. Winter said that 'Spring' would be able to help," he explained, hoping she would allow him to meet with her.
The woman circled him, inspecting his stance and build, watching how he quickly became nervous under her scrutinizing eye. "You must understand that the maidens are being hunted. We have already lost Summer and Fall, and I will not let Spring be taken under my watch. Therefore, in order to keep her location secret..."
Jaune's scream of surprise was muffled as a bag was thrown over his head.
Blake fidgeted nervously, curling her long black hair through her fingers as she sat next to a large oak tree. It almost seemed like a nice night, with a light breeze flowing through the trees and not a single cloud to block out the sea of twinkling stars in the skies above. Things were calm and tranquil, as good a place as any to settle down and read a nice book by scroll light.
If it weren't for the fact that she was waiting for the leader of the White Fang, she would be doing that very thing.
It wasn't a decision she came to lightly; Seeing the refugees firsthand, and knowing all the destruction and death that would be caused if an attack on Mistral would occur... she had to do something, no matter how small of a chance she had to succeed.
Her ears twitched in the direction of the rustling bushes to the left, and she slowly stood to meet Adam face to face. It had been so long since they last spoke to each other, just the two of them conversing about life while gazing up at the stars.
She shook those memories away, knowing all of that was now in the past.
"Blake," he called, his voice a mere whisper. A smile grew and he stepped forward with his arms spread in a show of non-hostility. "Finally, you're coming to your senses," he laughed joyously, stepping closer to capture her in a long-awaited embrace.
When she stepped away and uncomfortably crossed her arms, his smile disappeared. "I'm not here for the reasons you think," she somberly said.
His brow furrowed and he frowned. "You didn't come here to..." he trailed off, shaking his head with a disappointed sigh when she didn't give him an answer. "Then why would you bother?"
"I-" the young faunus hesitated. "Because I don't want to fight you," she explained.
"Because you can't fight me," he corrected.
"What difference does it make? Violence only leads to more violence, the war with Schnee is enough evidence of that," she rebuked.
"We're way past that, Blake. At this point, the only way to get what we need is to take it," he insisted, stepping closer. "If you still care at all about me, you'll come with me."
"If you care about me you'll stop this!" she countered, her heart quickening as their argument increased in volume. "Even if I did go with you, how could I live with myself if I'm at war with my friends?"
"The same way I've lived with myself, while at war with someone I love!"
Silence permeated their surroundings as Adam realized his efforts were fruitless. Blake's loyal devotion to a cause is perhaps her most admirable trait, despite the tragedy that it wasn't his cause that she fought for.
"I... I don't want to fight either side," she lamented, seeming to be coming to the realization herself for the first time.
"If you won't fight for either side, then what are you doing with them?" he questioned.
Blake froze, her mouth opening and closing but no answer escaping her lips. The shake of her head was nearly imperceptible, but he could see her sadness by the way her ears pulled back and hugged the side of her head.
Clenching his teeth, he felt anger surge within him. "One day, you're going to wake up and understand why I'm really doing this," he scolded.
As he started to leave, a guilty pain forced him to stop and protect her just one more time. "Mistral will burn for its crimes against the faunus. Get out while you can," he urged, and with a heavy heart he pushed his way through the brush and back to the White Fang without her.
"So then let us pursue what makes for peace and for mutual upbuilding."
-Romans 14:19