Disclaimer:For Elderburn Week, Day 1: Soulmate AU. Idea courtesy of AntonSlavik020. Chapter warning for canon typical violence.
Why did wars happen?
Yang could answer the question on a logical level. Someone wanted something and others opposed them, so a war began, but it really didn't make sense. It always seemed to be the same people fighting. It felt like she spent every life on the battlefield, even when she had no desire to fight.
A explosion, the chorus of gunfire. She gritted her teeth and waited.
Some people had a clearer connection to their previous lives and willingly walked the same path, time and time again. Yang certainly didn't and she got the distinct feeling, at times, that she was trying something genuinely new, but it never stopped her from ending up with a weapon in her hand. A stick, a sword, a gun- it changed with the centuries but her aim remained the same. Fight, resist, don't give up, a constant mantra that began with every beat of her heart.
The shouting of enemy soldiers, the groan of tanks advancing. Lilac eyes flicked to the next resistance fighter, just twenty meters away, and she could see the fear in his face. She felt it, too, but gave him a resolute nod.
This time, it started out rather innocuous. A newly elected leader, promises to continue the good work from before- but that hadn't lasted long. Suddenly, Yang found unfair laws restricting everything from TV shows to how late people could be out, the marching of soldiers filling the night air, and expectations crushed as their entire social hierarchy was uprooted. Her little sister, who'd worked hard all her life to get her dream job, had the rug pulled from beneath her, all her education and natural talent amounting to nothing as the new regime deemed her a 'radical' and threatened to have her arrested if she didn't settle into some menial job.
Another explosion, this time much closer. The soldiers had advanced and the mortars were hardly denting the superior numbers. Yang gripped the firearm a little tighter and waited for the signal.
Ruby wouldn't be kept down and her older sister was the first of many to join her resistance. Before long, it became open war between those who would force them down and those who would never be collared and chained. What the resistance lacked in pure firepower and equipment, they made up for with guerrilla tactics and deception, drawing the neat formations into trap after trap. Ruby had proven herself an adept tactician, using everything in her power to improve their odds. They couldn't win in a straight up fight but they could whittle and wear down their opponents, erode their resolve and their confidence, and steal supplies to even the battlefield just a little.
The scream of another incoming round split the night, this one hitting dead on its target as the resulting explosion shook the ground and rattled her bones.
That was the sign.
Rolling onto her stomach, Yang pushed to her feet and started charging, over the lip of the depression she'd laid in and onto the battlefield proper, the shotgun raised to rest against her shoulder as she took the first shot. It didn't have much in terms of range or capacity, true, but when she pulled the trigger and sent a small hail of buckshot tearing into the disoriented soldiers, it didn't matter. That first shot jump started the rest of the resistance fighters, a chorus or smaller pops ringing out before the echo of her own died down. And she lead the charge.
That was something else that never changed. Yang always plunged headfirst into battle, at the head of the formation, ready to take on anyone and everyone. It gave the others faith that she could bust a way through enemy lines big enough for others to follow and now proved no different, though they weren't quite trying to break through. No, they merely aimed to situate themselves between the tanks, eliminating the infantry and anyone foolish enough to pop their heads out, keeping the heavy hitters from firing for fear of shooting their own forces.
And, really, they were only the distraction.
Yang pumped the shotgun and fired again, in the other direction, sending a few more soldiers to the ground as they tried to either return fire or flee. The former seemed the more pragmatic solution, but the enemy soldiers were tired from being harassed all day long and even more disoriented when a fresh round of mortars fell behind them- far enough away for the resulting explosions not to pose a direct threat to the resistance but close enough to make them wonder. Ruby had planned the attack well, banking off the propaganda that painted the resistance as nihilistic, suicidal nutjobs. Ultimately, that sort of enemy couldn't be defeated by conventional means; if they were within line of sight, you were as good as dead, because the very idea of retreating meant nothing.
So they played into that. Laid in a field where it would be all too easy to be crushed by the encroaching tanks. Rained mortars just over their own heads. Charged at tanks and soldiers with body armor while wearing the patchwork ones they'd cobbled together- they looked like the end of desperation given physical form.
It worked rather well for them.
Before Yang could pump the shotgun again, she'd reached within a few feet of a wide eyed, dazed enemy soldier with blood running down his face, and she wasted no time in shifting her grip to slam the butt of her weapon into his face, at the very least knocking him out cold and possibly fracturing his skull. He fell where he stood and she pressed forward, firing from the hip and never slowing her advance. The long barrels of the tanks moved quickly, tried to zero in on her, but they couldn't get ahead and itchy trigger fingers sent the rounds flying behind her entirely.
She heard the explosions and the cries of agony. Some part of her wished she could turn around and save them, but she couldn't. With the bright orange scarf wrapped around her neck, she remained a symbol the resistance could rally around, much like Ruby. As long as she continued pushing, they had a chance of winning this.
Yang hopped up onto the nearest tank, clamoring as best she could with one hand in time to thrust the muzzle of her shotgun into a slit in the armor that opened up only so much so the soldier within could see where she'd gone. She pulled the trigger immediately, reaching up to pump it quickly as the turret began to move, dragging her along with it. Two more shots rang out, either the full force or the ricochets in the enclosed space bringing the thing to a stop as she yanked her weapon out, reaching up to the strap across her chest to load more shells into it. With a grunt, she pushed herself to climb up on top of the turret, lilac gaze sweeping across the battlefield as the wind caught in her hair.
Another thing that came around with every life- this time, something she actively encouraged- was the moniker she used and it rose now above the din.
"Dragon!"
Her gaze snapped to her right even as gunfire chorused around her, catching on the sight of a resistance fighter trying his best to overpower a soldier popping up from the hatch on another tank. She jumped off, stumbling slightly as she landed and ran as fast she she could, firing along the way at the soldiers trying to regroup around her. Bullets flew all around in the chaos, with resistance fighters using the tanks as cover while drawing the crews out from within and soldiers trying to figure out where to go and regroup, every direction seemingly cut off.
They were holding the soldiers in place. Ruby said they would need to keep the tanks and infantry there in the open field for at least thirty minutes and take out as many of the tanks as possible, or at least immobilize them. From the lack of explosions and the slowing of the tanks, Yang supposed they were doing pretty damn good on that front.
As she reached the man having trouble, she managed to get halfway up the side of the tank when it suddenly exploded, sending her flying back.
Oh, right. Ruby had warned her that the commander of this particular batch of soldiers would likely resort to friendly fire if they pressed hard enough. Seemed like they'd done just that.
"Retr-!" She gagged and coughed, the wind knocked from her chest forcing her to draw in a deep breath and try again. "Retreat!"
The cry echoed as the resistance fighters abandoned their tasks and began running away from their starting point. It confused the soldiers even more- a few even started running with them, thinking it was the military calling a retreat- and they used that as much as they could, darting to the depressions running through the field. Unlike the soldiers, who'd stumbled in the darkness, the resistance fighters had learned this particular field like the back of their hands.
Yang's body burned. She probably had shrapnel embedded somewhere in her side but she ran anyway, allowing the pain to fuel her to keep pushing, waving an arm over her head to call her comrades after her.
An explosion off to her right made her wince, mainly due to the proximity, but the lack of subsequent fire gave her hope. They were few in number but they'd launched their attack late enough that they must've caught enough of the tank crews off guard to take them out. Bullets flew all around them, a fair amount being directed her way, seeing as her scarf tended to draw attention even in the darkest of nights from both friend and foe. It was worth the risk.
Yang preferred it that way, honestly. Because for as many times as she'd been on battlefields, she'd yet to die on one, and she would much rather take that gamble herself than let someone else take it.
She counted the seconds until the tank would be able to fire again, eyes fixed on the depression she planned to use for cover until something happened.
Ruby hadn't been specific on that part. Just that, once the retreat was called, they needed to get as far away from the tanks as possible and to return fire sparingly. Focus on creating distance.
Then, she heard it. Something as good as a death knell: the dull hum of helicopters approaching the field.
The blonde jumped into the depression, rolling and pressing herself flat, shuffling around to point the muzzle of her shotgun over the little lip shielding her from the soldiers' view. The military had superior equipment and while they'd prepared to deal with the infantry and the tanks, but an airborne threat? No.
The others were arranged around her, a few more throwing themselves into the depression after her. She glanced around, having reached the end of her mental countdown and with a rousing cry coming from the soldiers as they surged forth ringing through the air, their backup reaching the other side of the field. Yang could see the blinking lights as they cut through the night and she had to face reality.
Her luck had to run out at some point. All these lives on the battlefield… one had to end there eventually, right?
"Hey, Dragon." Someone called out to her and she looked over, seeing the fear flashing in amber eyes coupled with that grim sort of resolve that came to someone facing their end. "This is bigger than us, right?"
Her hands tightened on her weapon. "Yeah." She nodded. "We make 'em remember us." Turning onto her sides- and ignoring the sharp pain that came when she rolled to her right- Yang raised her voice and called out to the remaining resistance forces. "Listen up! After those choppers buzz us, we pop up, and we give 'em everything we've got! We might go down but we'll take ten for everyone one of us!"
The engines overhead were deafening as the helicopters swept by and the boom of the tank round- a bit too far beyond, likely to spook them into moving back into the open field- seemed to signal their approaching end. When the door guns on the airborne threats started up, the choir of death from above seemed a sure sign that they wouldn't be making out of this alive.
Yang pushed herself up, ignoring the pain and raising her shotgun in preparation for her last stand. Everyone else had followed her lead and they all let out their first five seconds of shots in tandem- several bursts for most everyone else and three shots from Yang- before the fighters' gunfire came to a stuttered, slow stop. Not because they were being picked off, though.
To their utter shock and surprise, they weren't the targets of the helicopters' fire. One of the overhead death machines seemed to be focused on the remaining tank- the commander's tank, if Yang didn't miss her guess- while the others mowed down the soldiers.
As soon as the information processed, the blonde bellowed out above the din. "GET BACK DOWN!"
She jumped back to her previous position, almost scrambling in her haste to avoid being mistaken for the enemy. Her actions prompted the others to follow, all of them exchanging equally perplexed glances as the machine gun fire continued.
Honestly, while Yang wouldn't put it past her sister to have somehow hijacked a full squadron of helicopters, she wasn't sure if she could quite believe it.
When the gunfire stopped and she could tentatively poke her head up, none of the enemy soldiers remained, and the single working tank had been reduced to a metallic rendition of Swiss cheese, smoke wafting up from it. The helicopters overhead began moving, all save for one, which hovered over to a free space a hundred feet away and began lowering itself to the ground.
Well, she might as well get to the bottom of this. Turning to yell over the roar of the blades, she made a sweeping gesture towards the nearly still battlefield. "Someone, get on figuring out which tanks we can move and which ones are too damaged! The rest of you, get the wounded loaded up and ready to roll out!"
"Doesn't that include you, Dragon?" One of them pointed at her side, caked in blood from an open wound, a piece of twisted metal jutting out from her torn flesh.
"I'll be fine," she said, shrugging off the spike of pain she felt only because she was now aware of the possible extent of her injuries. She'd bounce back. "Tend to the others. I'll see who we have to thank for the save."
Yang moved across the battlefield, wincing at the annoying throbbing coming from her side as she stepped over dead soldiers and debris. She put a hand under the wound to push up and staunch the bloodflow a little, the sharp edges cutting into her hand, but kept a firm hold on the grip of her shotgun, prepared in the event that this was some sort of powerplay in a military coup and not her sister at all.
As the helicopter prepared to set down, the person in military fatigues on the door gun pushed out with their foot, allowing for someone else to slip through the small gap and land on the ground. A tall woman wearing an officer's uniform swept her gaze across the field before light blue eyes focused on Yang and she strode towards her with a rigid posture and a grim frown. It looked like every other uniform she'd seen- stark white with black accents, black boots and gloves, a touch of blue, and each color had its meaning but none of them rang true anymore- and pure white hair done up in a severe bun.
"Seems we almost arrived too late." She gestured towards the resistance fighters picking over the battlefield, either focusing on wounded or collecting up supplies. It made Yang feel like a vulture, at times, but she had to admit, they needed as many bullets as they could get. "You've taken heavy losses."
"Not as heavy as you think," she replied with a smirk. "We only started thirty strong."
The woman raised a brow, glancing around again. "Those are rather steep odds. Thirty people against half a battery?"
"Hey, we're resistance fighters." She cracked a smile. "We resist your notions of statistical disadvantage."
Not one of her best puns, and most of the time she got either groans or eye rolls for her trouble, but the military woman in front of her seemed surprised enough to let out a genuine chuckle. "I suppose you have a point. You must be Yang."
"Yeah, nice to meet ya, Miss…?" The blonde reached a hand forward, feeling only a little bad the glove she wore was covered in her own blood. She quickly brushed it against her hip to get the majority off before redoing the motion.
"Winter. Winter Schnee." She shook Yang's hand- and in that moment, the battlefield around them fell away.
It was replaced by so many others as she relived dozens of previous lives in more vivid detail than ever before. All different seasons, all manner of weapons in her hand, all manner of armor or lack thereof, with only a few constants: the hand in hers and the blue eyes staring into her own.
This was why she found herself on the battlefield time after time, even when she would really rather not fight. When every instinct screamed to try something new, to explore what she hadn't before, this was why she always came back to fighting. Because they only ever met on a battlefield, allies brought together by circumstance or money or like minded ideals. Hell, the very first time, Yang was the one coming to the rescue, and while they seemed to flip flop in that respect, it was the only part that seemed to change.
She blinked, and saw the woman again: her soulmate, found once more.
As she struggled to come up with something to say, Winter let out a breathless laugh, squeezing her hand a little tighter. "Sundrop."
That sparked something deep in her chest. A nickname they'd kept constant every time, something she vaguely thought about but couldn't actually remember until they met.
"Snowdrift." Yang pulled on the hand in hers, forcing her to take a step forward and throwing her arms around the woman and burying her face in her shoulder. "We really gotta stop meeting like this."
"I'm tempted to agree." Arms carefully encircled her, mindful of the shrapnel in her side. "Why is it I can never meet you when you're not bleeding and in excruciating pain?"
"Aw, c'mon, it's not that-" She winced, the flexing of her own arms shifting the metal enough for the spike of pain to rob her of breath momentarily.
Almost immediately, Winter pivoted and slung one of her arms around the taller woman's shoulders, holding her by the wrist while the other hand landed on the blonde's hip. "Why do you always down play your injuries? Even when you're the one bringing the cavalry, you always get hurt."
"Guess you could say I'm always hurtin' for ya," she replied, allowing herself to be directed towards the helicopter. "But I'll be fine."
"Once we get you looked at by a medic, you will be." The military woman walked in step with her, motioning with her head for one of the soldiers within the chopper to come out and grab Yang's weapon.
"So, what's the story this time?" She couldn't help but chuckle. "You usually go for the military, so that's not a surprise."
"Usually, I'm fighting for the good guys." A touch of bitterness infected her tone. "Imagine my surprise when things didn't work out that way this time."
"Well, had to happen eventually, right?"
"Please don't say that while you're bleeding." Winter helped her into the helicopter, putting her in one of the seats and waving over someone with a bag strapped to their hip. "You realize how many times I've come close to losing you on the battlefield, right?"
"Lucky for you, I'm stubborn." Yang cracked a smile, shifting to let the medic work. "So, did Ruby convince you to turn against the government?"
"My sister did, actually." She glanced at the cockpit briefly. "Apparently, she was captured by the Resistance some time ago and released by one of your own."
"Yeah, we know." The blonde shook her head, wincing as the medic got to work on her side. "Blake's the good sort and we trusted her judgment."
"A wise decision. Weiss gathered up everyone she could trust and convinced us to start fighting for the right side. We came out here to save you." Winter fidgeted, watching the medic's work with utmost attention. "After compromising the defenses at our base, of course."
"So that's where Ruby is." A small chuckle escaped her lips. No wonder her sister had kept silent on the full plan; like hell she would've let Ruby charge into an enemy base without her, if she'd known. "She always picks the dangerous missions."
"Thirty people against tanks and you think she picked the hard part?"
"Now that I know I had you comin' for me?" She nodded. "Yep."
The military- well, now former military woman shook her head, preparing to say something but stopping as one of the resistance fighters came up to the helicopter door.
"We've got most of the tanks working and everyone's loaded up!" He shouted, shaking slightly but not overtly injured. "What do we do now?"
"Prepare to follow us," Winter said, squaring her shoulders as best she could given the low clearance of the helicopter's bay. "Once the rest of our squadron returns, we're heading to the base just east of here."
The man's eyes went wide. "We can't take on a whole base!"
"Yes, we can." Blue eyes flashed with determination as she set her jaw. "We're not a Resistance anymore. We're Revolutionaries. We've got to win to earn that title, so from this point forward, there's no battle we can't undertake. We have tanks and helicopters and, once we've taken the base, we'll have jets and more ammunition." She nodded. "We can do this."
"She's right." Yang sat up, somehow managing not to cringe even as another stabbing pain radiated from her side. "We've got momentum. Can't stop now; we're going to steamroll those bastards and keep going, all the way to the Capitol. We're taking our country back."
He paused, then nodded, a fire igniting in his eyes. "Right. Okay! I'll get everyone together!"
As the man ran back towards the tanks, a thought popped into her head. "Hey, Snowdrift… why do you always carry a sword?"
"I'd like to pretend it's just part of the uniform but I genuinely have a predilection for them." A white brow arched. "Why do you always insist on bringing a weapon wholly unsuited to the combat you're engaging in?"
"That's not-"
"Shotgun against a tank, Sundrop."
Yang shrugged. "That's one of the things you love about me."
"You're certainly not wrong." Winter reached out, cupping her face lightly. "But how about you stay on the door gun for tonight? Once you're healed, we'll both be on the front lines."
"Sounds good to me," she replied, turning her head to press a kiss against the woman's palm.
Why did wars happen?
In the grand scheme of things, Yang really didn't know. But as long as they did, she would find herself on a battlefield, and on one of those battlefields, she'd find this woman- her soulmate. She might look a little different, might talk a little different, might act a little different with every iteration, but when those blue eyes lit up with a cold fire that burned bright with her passion, Yang knew she'd found her, the one who complimented her own fiery soul, the one who would stand by her when they eventually wrestled peace away from the drying grasp of a tyrant or a dictator or a bully or a warmonger.
So, even when she really didn't want to fight, she did. And she always would. Because even if things eventually had to change, she wouldn't risk losing this for the world.