"Jaune?" Yang asked, stepping forward cautiously, as if she feared the wild animal he clearly was. "Are you okay?"
Jaune said nothing at first. The words clogged in his throat, and his mind was still hazy from the thrill of battle and bloodshed. There was a dull pain behind his eyes, and try as he might he couldn't remember a damn thing after...after...whatever it was. It involved blood, he knew that much, so he lowered his sword and shield to show Yang he meant her no harm, and to lower the chances of him accidentally hurting her. The other dragon made a noise, and he glanced over at it to see it staring at him with the same burning suspicion it had glared at him earlier.
"No." He replied eventually, and he saw her face fall sadly. A furious tide of emotion whirled inside him, and he felt angry at himself for letting her down again, at making her sad again. He also felt rage, burning like a wildfire, at the thought of him just accepting her again as if nothing had happened between them. He was still weak like that, too willing to forgive and forget, even though he knew it would kill him eventually.
"I don't think I am."
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"You insolent fool!" Lord Piers snarled. "Stand aside or you will die with my nephew, those sellswords of his and everyone in that hamlet who harboured this traitor. I give you this one warning out of honour to your father, who needs you as his only male heir. Reject this kind offer and my men will kill you Arc."
"Sellswords?!" Wolf bellowed suddenly, stepping forward with his sword drawn. "We are Knights of House Port!"
"You are traitors!"
"We serve a Port worthy of our loyalty, not some fat oaf drinking and whoring his way to an early grave!" Stephen retorted, and Jaune's hand slid to Crocea Mors' hilt as the as the guards opposite him shuffled nervously. Tension was thick in the air like smoke from a raging fire, and Jaune sniffed when he smelled smoke in the air.
He turned, eyes widening as he saw flames engulfing the hamlet nearby, hapless villagers screaming and fleeing as Lord Piers' soldiers ran amok, killing, slaying and doing much, much worse.
"What in the name of the Gods are you doing!" Jaune demanded, pointing at the burning hamlet. "Those are your people, our people. You have a duty to look after them!"
"They are traitors." Lord Piers' retorted, and Jaune remembered what he said suddenly, the words only just connecting in his skull. "They will die traitors deaths."
Jaune stared at the armoured guards around Lord Piers, some of whom were staring at the burning hamlet rather than the so-called traitors that Lord Piers wanted dead so much.
"Are you okay with this?" He found himself asking hoarsely. "Are you fine with the thought of slaying your countrymen? Of burning their homes? Of killing your brothers and sons and fathers and doing worse to your sisters, mothers and daughters?"
The guards shifted. Some didn't, but most did. Jaune wondered just how many of those that didn't were broken monsters like him.
"Silence!" Piers ordered, noticing the discontent in his ranks. Jaune ignored him.
"Will you be able to sleep tonight, knowing you did nothing as you followed through with this fat oaf's orders and murdered your own countrymen like savage monsters?" Jaune demanded. "Are you just going to stand there like cowards, or are you going to help those who need it? People who need you? People who need you to do the job you swore to do when you joined Bessemer's guard? Will you keep law and order, or will you just watch it burn due to the whims of a man undeserving of his authority?"
"Enough!" Lord Piers bellowed, but he was ignored. One of the men in the front ranks stared at Jaune, and he noticed an insignia suggesting he was a sergeant.
"We swore to follow the orders of our lord." The sergeant said, and Jaune pointed at Piers.
"Is he your lord? Was he appointed Lord Regent by your lord?" Jaune asked rhetorically. "He has no more authority to command you and yours than a peasant claiming to be a Schnee."
"I said enough Arc!" Lord Piers blustered, and Jaune glared at the man fiercely.
"So you acknowledge I am an Arc then?" Jaune asked, smiling underneath his helm. "It's almost as if you knew you shouldn't have blackmailed me into joining your mad crusade for someone who doesn't belong to you."
"Enough I said!"
"It is enough." The sergeant said suddenly, turning to his men. "We owe no fealty to the Ports. We are Ironwood's men, and the lord I know and serve would never support this madness. If any of you truly wish to do something meaningful with your lives, then come with me and help me save our people from those madmen this fat oaf allowed to infiltrate our ranks!"
The sergeant took off running, charging towards the hamlet. A few followed him. Then some more, then even more until only a dozen or so men remained with Lord Piers. Jaune let out a deep exhale. The odds were still against him, but he knew they were better now.
"It would be good if you did something right about now." Jaune quietly hissed at Crocea Mors. Lord Piers heard his muttering, and he stopped yelling abuse at those who abandoned him.
"You may have poisoned some of my men against me but many more remain true to me." Lord Piers snarled arrogantly. "They owe me their lives, they would have been sent to the gallows if I did not grant them amnesty. They will kill you, those traitor knights standing alongside you then they can make my nephew watch whilst I take my proper husbandly dues from my wife. Tell me Arc, are truly willing to die for some whore?"
The doors to the barn opened, and Jaune turned to see Lady Miltia standing therewith wide eyes and arms filled with bags of supplies. She looked scared, fearful, as she stared at the dozen or so men arranged against her husband and his two knights, scared as he heard the threats and blustering and every revolting word that came from Lord Piers' revolting mouth.
For a moment her face changed. First he saw Weiss. Then his sisters. Then he saw Yang. His eyes narrowed into dangerous slits from behind his iron helm, and his grip on Crocea Mors became painful. A familiar redness stared to seep into his vision as his blood rushed at the thought of the coming bloodshed, of the thrill of the fight that seemed ingrained in his very soul. Lady Miltia did not need to be scared, Weiss didn't, his sisters didn't, Yang didn't. There were hundreds of monsters living in this broken world, and a dozen of them faced him now. But they did not need to fear. Not whilst they had a monster of their own to kill for them.
"Someone is." Jaune finally replied, and Crocea Mors hissed as he drew it free from its sheathe. The silver-grey blade glinted in the amber hue cast by the roaring flames and the setting sun, and he heard the rasp of metal as the monsters opposite drew their own steel. Jaune smiled behind his helm, seeing how they shifted nervously, uncertainly. They may be monsters, but they were nothing compared to him and they knew it. They could feel it.
"Last chance!" Lord Piers bellowed, though his voice had lost its bluster and Jaune found himself sneering at the pathetic attempt at seeming authoritative. "Surrender!"
"Never." Jaune retorted coolly, and the silence grew, the tension rising, as Lord Piers considered whether he would rise to the clear challenge or submit his cowardly nature and back down.
"Kill them!" He finally barked, and Jaune decided to make the sellswords' jobs easier for themselves by charging at them. They were taken aback, flinching back, but they found their firmness after he struck down their first comrade. He had found his battle rhythm now, he knew his moves and body in battle. He went for the weak points, hacking and slashing with a brutality fuelled by rage and fear of what would happen if he failed now.
Chainmail tore and crimson blood poured forth. His shield was a weapon and a guardian, deflecting blows and crushing throats. He brought down another before a blow to his back forced him on the defensive.
They were like bloodhounds sensing the first blow. Four of them surged forward, a whirlwind of steel and flesh. Jaune slid back through the mud, snarling as he tried keeping up with their attempts to try and end him. He had fought his way into a bandit camp with just an unarmoured, unarmed Yang at his side and came out the victor. He had stood against his old friend and he'd fought a monster with delusions of godly grandeur. He had survived having his throat cut by someone he had trusted as a friend and they, these utter fools, thought they would kill him? After everything he'd been through?
He succumbed to his rage with a roar, standing his ground and halting his retreat suddenly. The four stooges stumbled, unsure of what to make of the sudden change, and one cried out as Jaune slammed his shield in his face. The others moved, but they were too slow, too lazy. They were too used to weaker victims to bully with their positions of power over others, and they did not know how to respond to something greater than their own puny selves. He parried a blow with a sword and was rewarded with gurgling as Crocea Mors cut into the neck of the man who'd tried to kill him. A sword slammed against him, and he buckled as he drew Crocea Mors free in time to block another. One of his remaining opponents had fled, the other remained on the floor cradling his head and this final one stood against him.
Jaune was on the backfoot again, and he felt a tinge of worry as his opponent swung wildly. He'd forgotten he wasn't the only one capable of succumbing to his battle-rage, and he cursed his foolishness and arrogance for a moment before he focused utterly on the fight. His opponent was sloppy but brutal, and ultimately he would not win against someone trained by one of the greatest knights in Atlas-Vale's history. His opponent over-extended himself, and Sir Klein's teachings ran in his mind as Jaune side stepped around him, knocking his enemy's sword down with a blow before swinging Crocea Mors at the man's knee with all his strength. His enemy screamed in pain as he fell, sword falling from his hands as he landed against the muddy ground with a thud. He screamed in pain, clutching at the bloody stump before his screams were turned into gurgles as Crocea Mors sank into his throat.
"What do we do now?" Jaune asked, looking around the altar curiously. "There aren't any instructions or anything. No symbols or glyphs or anything. Just a slab of rock."
"Jaune?" Blake asked quietly, and he turned around to speak to her.
"Yea-urk!" Jaune gasped, Blake grabbing his hair violently and yanking him down. Something sank into his neck, and he choked, tears building in his eyes, unable to breathe with something rammed into his neck.
A cold sweat broke out over his back, and he could see tears falling from Blake's eyes.
"I'm so sorry." She sobbed, yanking the dagger out of his neck. Blood spilled out from the gaping wound in his neck, and he grabbed at it, trying to stem the blood flowing freely from his throat.
Jaune blinked and broke free from the memory. He had fallen to his knees, both hands gripping onto Crocea Mors for support, and he was staring at the lifeless eyes of the man he'd just slain.
"Jaune..." Crocea Mors said quietly. "I'm so sorry. I wish you were well."
"So do I." Jaune muttered, closing his eyes as he felt the sword's presence in his head. He welcomed it, needing something to fend off everything that was wrong with him. "I'm sorry for treating you harshly."
"I'm sorry for not being understanding, for being too insensitive." Crocea Mors replied, the sword's voice bouncing through his mind. It was oddly comforting in a way. He preferred the sword's presence to the dark, monstrous thing that lurked in the recesses of his mind. "I will be better. So will you. But you have a fight to win first."
Jaune nodded and stood up, pulling Crocea Mors free. He looked around him and his heart sank as he saw just how badly the odds were arrayed against him. Stephen and Wolf were dead. At least six sellswords stood facing Trivian, who was shakily holding his blade and bleeding heavily. Militia stood next to him, holding a sword uncertainly. She didn't know how to use it.
He took a breath to collect himself before charging forward. They must have thought he had been brought down by the man he'd killed, becasue they seemed completely blindsided as he slammed his shield into one's back and hacked Crocea Mors' through another's leg. Both fell with a cry, and Trivian and Lady Miltia stared at him with wide eyes.
"Go!" He ordered, stabbing the one on his right whilst bringing his shield down on the back of the head of the one he'd bowled over with his shield. "Run!"
Lady Militia dragged a hobbling Trivian away, and the remaining four shifted around him, trying to encircle him. They intended to kill him quickly then go after the runaway love birds.
"Why are you fighting for them?" Crocea Mors asked suddenly, and Jaune thought of an answer. He remembered what the voice in his mind wanted him to do. He remembered wanting to unleash the rage and violence he felt inside himself.
Sir Klein had taught him otherwise. His father had tuaght him otherwise.
He had a duty to protect, a duty as a knight and as a lord, and it was one he would fulfil regardless of what he faced.
"Because it's the right thing to do." Jaune answered, the sword was silent, but Jaune could feel its sadness.
"They will kill you."
"At least Trivian and Miltia will get away if I distract them long enough."
"Not unless you use me." Crocea Mors said bitterly, and Jaune realised what he was getting at.
He froze with indecision. Was the situation truly dire enough for him to sacrifice part of his soul? He could die, but at the same time he might not. He had faced worse odds before and lived. Losing his soul was a certainty, death was not.
Then a fifth sellsword appeared, and Jaune remembered him being the one he had hit in the head earlier. He had spent most of the fight laying down like a coward, but now he had tipped the odds even further against Jaune. He stepped around in small circles, trying to keep each and every one of them in his direct line of sight or in the periphery of his vision. He caught glimpses of Trivian and Miltia. They weren't far away, they weren't moving quick enough.
They would die.
He remembered being pawed at the night prior by those servants. He thought of what would happen to Miltia, of what Trivian would be forced to watch, if he failed now.
"Do it." Jaune whispered, and the sword was silent for a moment, hesitant. "Do it, please!"
Power, pure and unfiltered, rushed through his veins. Everything seemed hazy and distant, and he straightened as every bruise, wound and ache in his body faded within a second. It felt odd, weird, as if he wasn't the one controlling his body anymore. The sellswords staggered back, and Jaune turned to see Crocea Mors engulfed in purple flames. The world seem to darken, making the purple flame all the more bright, all the more powerful, and Jaune stared each and every one of them in the eye, memorising what he could see before stepping forward to kill them.
They fought back, rallying due to a primal urge to live and not die. It wasn't enough to save them, not when they faced nothing but power. The purple flames engulfing Crocea Mors burned through the steel of theirs swords as soon as they connected, and they did not have the time to scream as Crocea Mors cut through armour and flesh as easily as cutting grass. They fell in seconds, and in that time Lord Piers had turned his horse and spurred it on with a speed Jaune was surprised to see in the overweight man.
Jaune did not want him to live for much long. He raised Crocea Mors and swung, a beam of purple light shaped like a crescent moon expelling from the blade and surging towards the terrified horse and man. It struck the horse, cleaving off its legs, and Lord Piers went tumbling in the mud as it fell and toppled into the mud with pained screams, thrashing helplessly.
Jaune strode forward calmly, eyes fixated on Lord Piers, who begged for mercy through tearful eyes. He stopped for a moment, ending the misery of the horse, before stepping over Lord Piers and staring at him blankly.
"P-Please! I don't want to die! I don't want to die!" Piers wailed. "I'll leave you alone just please don't kill me!"
Jaune cocked his head, as if he were considering the offer. Glimmers of hope started to shine alongside the tears in Lord Piers' eyes as the silence dragged on, only undercut by the man's sob and hiccups and the sound of fighting coming from the hamlet.
Jaune stared at the air, raising Crocea Mors to the sky. He remembered the mountain, the lightning the God of Darkness had sent tumbling down, and Jaune stepped away from Lord Piers, who stared in shock.
"No." Jaune answered coldly, and a beam of purple light shot into the sky and into the dark clouds mustered over head. Lighting tore through the crowds and thunder rumbled in the air.
"Please!"
The last words of Lord Piers Port rang hollowly in Jaune's eyes, deafened by the lighting that came thrashing down from the sky like a coiled up serpent finally striking. Charred bones and blackened earth marked the only grave the man would enjoy, and Jaune's arms sagged to his sides. He turned away, feeling hollow, feeling empty, and he saw two people staring at him from by the barn.
He didn't recognise them. The world was too hazy. Too dark. He felt his limited sense of control slipping as he started to panic. What if they were more enemies? More monsters? More traitors?
He raised Crocea Mors and slashed. Purple energy cut through that air and cut them down. He relaxed, only to remember the hamlet. He turned and saw flames, and dark forms flitting in between. He did not know who was fighting and who was winning, but he knew the world was cruel enough to guarantee that it was those who would kill and burn on Lord Piers' orders that would prevail. He raised Crocea Mors again, preparing to destroy it give a merciful end to those who suffered with, before something roared and slammed into him like a castle had been thrown against his chest. He fell through the air, his eyes blinking as the world brightened and he stared at murky, almost night sky before landing against the ground with a thud.
Everything in his body hurt, and his Aura crackled and fell around him. He blinked, realising Crocea Mors was screaming and his head was ringing. He couldn't remember anything, and he saw a dragon in front of him, eyes crimson red and scales blacker than coal. He raised his shield before him, standing firm until he heard another set of wings and he turned to see another dragon behind him.
"Yang." He dimly realised, and he didn't know whether to be angry or sad or guilty or happy. She started to glow, and the other dragon hissed and snapped his jaws at him. He stepped backwards, struggling to hold Crocea Mors as his body ached and as the sword screamed bloody murder inside his mind. He didn't know what it was saying, the words were muted and incomprehensible, but the noise was thunderous and made his head throb in pain.
"Jaune?" Yang asked, voice cutting through the chaos in his mind and he watched as she stepped forward tentatively. "Are you okay?"
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"Jaune? Are you okay?"
Jaune said nothing, but he lowered his sword and shield slightly.
"No." He replied eventually, and her heart shattered at how hoarse and broken it sounded. "I don't think I am."
He toppled over like a puppet who's strings had just been cut, and she raced forward to catch him. He thudded into her arms, the sword in his grip falling with ease as he slipped into unconsciousness, and she eased him onto the ground rather than letting him drop, cradling his head in her lap and removing the helmet covering his face.
His face was pale and splotches of drying mud and blood were peppered against his skin, the deathly pale pallor making them all the more prominent. She wiped them away gently, staring silently at the tiredness radiating from every crevice, every mark, every feature of his face. His eyes were shadowed by dark rings, and there was a gauntness to him that made him seem almost malnourished in a way.
Uncle Qrow stepped near here, having transformed into his Amator form. He was eyeing Jaune wearily.
"Is this the boy?" He asked, though there was firmness, a commanding-ness to his tone that made it seem more like an order. She nodded. "He...Yang..."
"He's my mate." She said quietly, unsure of what Uncle Qrow was trying to say but knowing she wasn't going to like it. His tone was the same as it had been when he had suggested she could find a better mate.
"He's a murderer." Uncle Qrow said darkly, and Yang shook her head fervently. "He butchered those soldiers with that sword of his! He murdered that Lord, murdered that couple and he was about to destroy that hamlet! Who knows how much further he would have gone if I didn't stop him!"
"What did you do?" Yang demanded, glaring at him fiercely and feeling her hackles rise. He gave her a wide-eyed look.
"Don't act like that, don't be like that." He said, disbelief clear in his tone. "That sword...that thing...it clearly took control over him. It's probably some artefact of Salem's judging from the smell."
Yang turned to the sword, recognising it slowly.
"That's the God of Darkness." She said, and Uncle Qrow visibly blanked. "If what you saw is true then it is its fault. We should toss it into the darkest cave we can find and bury it in rubble."
"We need it to stop Salem." Uncle Qrow protested, and Yang glared at him with a snarl.
"You hypocrite!" She snarled. "You were more than willing to to suggest we need to get rid of Jaune for what happened. Now you know it's the sword's fault, the fault of something you need, you think we should keep it!"
"We all need the God of Darkness if we want to survive Salem's madness!" Uncle Qrow protested, and Yang had had enough. She surged to her feet, poking Uncle Qrow's chest and levelling him with the most furious glare Yang had ever mustered for anyone except for Salem, who she had seen standing over Jaune's dying body.
"And I need Jaune if I'm going to survive at all!" She roared. "Losing my father destroyed Raven! She was bad before, but she was pure evil once he was stolen from her. She levelled villages, razed cities and murdered her own kin. She treated me like dirt and you told me every dragon has a soulmate! Jaune is mine! If I lose him, I will gladly let this world burn!"
Uncle Qrow stammered, but his words failed him and he just shook his head, staring at her with shock. Yang panted, her anger fading as quickly as it came, and she was left confused and fearful she had driven away the last of her family.
"I...I just can't lose him." Yang said quietly. "I need you to understand that...to accept that."
"I know." Uncle Qrow sighed, closing his eyes and running a hand through his dark hair tiredly. "I know you mean well. I just...I have a lot to make up for. If part of that means finding you a worthy suitor, a worthy mate, then I'll do that, even if it makes you think I'm a bad guy. I just want the best for you Yang. I just want to make things right."
"You can do that by helping me and helping Jaune." Yang replied, a firmness entering her tone when she felt part of him still resisting her words. "We can help you end Salem, or I can help Salem destroy everything."
"What?!" Uncle Qrow gasped, face aghast, and Yang pressed on.
"I will have no future if I don't have Jaune." Yang smiled sadly. "I want to know you, to be your family, but you can't provide me with offspring can you? That would be wrong, not to mention impossible according to you, and I would have no desire to find another mate if I lost Jaune now. If I had no future, why would I not join someone who has at least the chance to make a new one in which I could be happy with Jaune?"
Uncle Qrow said nothing for a while, before he exhaled explosively and silently turned to watch the hamlet burn in the distance. Yang turned as well, and she saw carnage on the field in between. Soldiers lay strewn about and dead. A young woman had also been killed next to one of the soldiers, and her stomach flipped when she realised that something had managed to cut the both of them cleanly in half. She glanced down at Jaune, who was breathing lightly, and she remembered Uncle Qrow's words.
"It couldn't have been him." She shook her head, getting rid of her doubts. She knew Jaune, he didn't kill senselessly.
"I can understand what you're saying." Uncle Qrow said eventually. "But I want you to know that if you ever do side with Salem, for whatever reason, I will be forced to fight you."
"I know." Yang said quietly. "I just wanted you to understand."
"I know." Uncle Qrow sighed, shaking his head before turning to her. "I'm not going to saying anything else about your boytoy, but I was telling the truth when I said I saw him killing those people."
"Or the sword possessed him to do so."
"Or that." Uncle Qrow shrugged. They fell into silence before Yang cocked her head.
"What did you do to him?" She asked, and he shrugged, looking slightly sheepish, before answering.
"I whacked him with my tail." He answered, holding up his hands when Yang glared at him. "You asked! Besides, he took it pretty well. His Aura broke but he managed to stand up afterwards. Whatever his faults, your mate is one tough son of a bitch."
Yang smiled at the praise, before hearing a groan at her feet. Her chest tightened nervously as she saw Jaune's eyes flutter open, and he blinked a few times before just staring at her.
"Y-Yang?" He asked, and she immediately fell down, dragging him up and hugging him tightly.
"I shouldn't have left you!" She lamented quietly, squeezing him with all her might before hearing him groan and relaxing her grip only slightly. "I'm so sorry!"
"I..." Jaune trembled in her grasp, and she held on tighter as she felt tears swell behind her closed eyes. He relaxed against her suddenly, and she felt his arms wrap around her, returning the hug. "I have a few things of my own I need to apologise for. I'm sorry."
Yang made a strange noise, a half-sob and a half-cheer, and she nuzzled against Jaune's hair as his hands rubbed comforting circles into her back.
"Hi sorry, I'm Qrow." Uncle Qrow remarked dryly, and Jaune jolted in her arms. She let him go so he could turn to see her Uncle Qrow, and she got ready to introduce them.
"Lord Branwen?!" Jaune gasped. "What are you doing here?"
Or they already knew each other. Wait, they knew each other?!
"Lord Arc." Uncle Qrow nodded, before scratching his chin. "Or is that your dad? Eh, who cares."
"He's my uncle." Yang said, feeling left out. Jaune blinked at her.
"But thought dragon's were all female?"
"It's a long story. I'll tell you sometime. Or not." Uncle Qrow shrugged, ignoring the glare Yang sent at him. "Is that the God of Darkness?"
"The wha...oh!" Jaune shook his head, grabbing the hilt of the sword and unsteadily pushing himself to his feet. Yang helped him up, and he gave her a grateful look that made her spirit sing. "This was the God of Darkness. Now it's just Crocea Mors."
"What?" Uncle Qrow asked, shoulders slumping. Jaune shrugged.
"I don't know how it works, it's just what it told me." Jaune explained, before groaning and clutching his head. "By the Brothers my head hurts."
"What's wrong?" Yang asked worriedly.
"Just a headache." Jaune replied, before shaking his head. "Never mind, just a migraine."
"We need the God of Light." Uncle Qrow said suddenly. "If the God of Darkness is no longer here for whatever reason we need something to even the odds against Salem. We need to go to Vale."
"We also need to tell Jaune about everything." Yang retorted, earning an annoyed look from Uncle Qrow and a confused one from Jaune.
"Tell me about what?" He asked, and before she could answer Uncle Qrow spoke up.
"We can tell him when we make camp in Vale, we'll need to rest at some point." He said, and Yang made to protest but his body had already started to glow. "You can do it quicker the sooner we get there."
"Son of a..." Yang muttered, glaring at Uncle Qrow as he took to the sky. She turned to Jaune, who looked hopelessly confused and adorable at the same time. "Are you well enough to be able to ride me for a few hours?"
"What?!" Jaune choked, face turning red. Yang blinked before she realised how what she said could be misconstrued. Her face turned red as well, but she hid her embarrassment behind bravado.
"I meant whilst I flew." She said, swallowing her nervousness before putting on a cocky smile. "But if you wanted to try the other way then I'm game."
"H-Huh?!" Jaune wheezed, and she found her fake cocky smile turning into a genuine as she felt amusement at his reactions. "By the-stop teasing me! Yes, I can let you fly me to wherever we need to go for a few hours."
"Good." Yang smiled. "It would be awkward having to carry you in my talons."
Her body started to glow as she shifted from her Amator form to her Pugnator form, and her body went from soft and weak to hard and strong. She chuffed at Jaune, enjoying how strongly he smelled and how close he was, and he sheathed his sword before clambering onto her back, gripping onto the sharp, spiked ridges protruding from her back for dear life. She took the skies with a victorious, happy bellow that was answered by her Uncle Qrow with his own roar.
For the first time in her life she flew into the sky with a heart filled with hope and love, her mate close by and her family flying next to her in the midnight sky cast orange from the hue of increasingly distant fires.
Life was finally good.
A/N: The next update will be on 15/08/2023