Book II: The King's Dilemma

Chapter 45


"Why didn't it work!?" The fireplace crackled in response to his incensed words. A fist crashed through the drywall. Elaborate, sparkling ornaments were swept from the shelves, sending them smashing to the floor. The shards crunched when the heel of a boot crushed them.

"Calm yourself."

"Calm myself!?" His words were shrill and deafening as he whirled on the intruder.

"It's clear there's been an unforeseen development. Someone interfered."

"Who? Among the council?" His words were still incensed, but it was clear his mood was calmed, somewhat.

"Likely. He's in the process of ascending now. It wouldn't have started without a spark. Someone interfered."

There was a sound of a mocking laugh; however, the ridicule was not directed toward the other. "Who would've dared to interfere? They're all too weak, now."

"You understand, though. Apollyon just needed a spark. He was almost there already."

The conclusion was clear to both of them. "I suppose you're right. Any of them could've given the spark then. We will investigate. There are a limited number of suspects, after all."

"That's right. There is no need to fret. One by one, they will be gone within the next century. The decline of the pantheon is here."

"Has Ananke peered into his fate?"

"She has."

"And?"

"It's muddled. The string descends into ambiguous gray—a mixture of darkness and light. He's carved his own path, now. Independent of the Fates, and even of the primordial goddess. Ironic, isn't it? He was their favorite toy for some time."

"Their power has also diminished like ours over time due to the collapse of the Pantheon. It must be that. Every being has a destiny; without a destiny, they cannot move forward."

"Yet he is. How do you explain that?"

"Patience. We will wait for the time to strike. Remember that we still have the Box itself."

"That was supposed to be a last resort."

"What can I say? Apollyon is full of surprises. We may just be forced to play our cards earlier than you think."

"Don't you think he has a chance against it?" he raised an eyebrow.

"He is an upstart godling. Just eighteen years of age in human years. In immortal years, he is not even out of the womb. He hasn't learned the aspects of godhood yet. In comparison, the Box has been around for millions of years, possibly even more, since it's made of Mother Khaos' flesh."

The other man barked a laugh; it was a harsh, grating sound that would have shattered a mortal's eardrums had they been listening to the conversation. "Ha! You're right. Zeus was quite intriguing. Arrogance backed by power creates tyrants. Mother Khaos gifted the Box to Zeus as a sign of goodwill. Of course, the imbecile didn't understand the gravity of it. That girl, what was her name again?

"Pandora."

"That's right. Pandora. She was fated to open the Box—there was nothing that Prometheus or anyone else, for that matter, could do about it. But, now that we have the Box, it's sufficient as a last resort."

"Sufficient would be an understatement. It's a guarantee. At any rate, Aporia should be the most useful of the spirits. Soul possession, was it?"

"That's right. Body, spirit, and soul. The body is taken by the user, the spirit is overwhelmed, and the soul is extinguished. The user can then establish parallel existence."

"Salem has been using it for quite some time now for her puppets in Mistral, hasn't she?"

"Yes. The adverse effects should appear soon. No one has been able to completely control Aporia before."

"How many puppets do you think she has implanted in Mistral?"

"Who knows? The more puppets she has, the more she needs to divide her power. Some puppets can be stronger than others."

"Does the puppet's semblance come with the body possession?"

"Yes. A semblance can never be suppressed. It is a permanent shadow of a body, even if the soul is taken away."

"Interesting. Has she possessed a Sword or any of Apollyon's friends?"

"She hasn't. Utilizing Aporia is far more challenging if the target has an aura. Given that, she likely hasn't possessed many Mistralians. Possession isn't so easy that she can just snap her fingers and control the minds of every noble in Mistral. That wouldn't be any fun."

"That's right."

"There's no issue. Every kingdom will soon fall. Mistral. Vale. Atlas. Vacuo."

"Remnant is littered with the ruins of empires that believed they were eternal. Apollyon is no exception." The other man agreed, nodding.

"The bigger the star, the more violent its demise. Now cometh the age of Protogenoi once more."

-o-o-o-

Soon, the Apostles had fled the scene, leaving them to their own devices.

"Team JNPR is back together!" Nora cheered excitedly, grabbing Jaune, Ren, and Pyrrha all by their shoulders like ragdolls.

"Ruby!" Yang and Blake both burst toward Weiss, who was struggling to carry an unconscious Ruby on her shoulders. Team JNPR turned their heads and rushed toward her as well. "Friend Ruby!" Penny quickly followed them, marginally levitating off the ground.

"I'm better than you. Remember that." Winter stared blankly at Vernal, who turned her back and began walking away toward the bandit camp in the forest. Was she daft?

Tai Xiao-Long stood off to the side awkwardly, not knowing what or how to feel about reuniting with his ex-wife. Qrow Branwen and Raven Branwen glared at each other, with such hostility and intensity, as if they were lifetime rivals, befitting that of the Branwens.

"Qrow... I always knew you were soft."

"And I always knew you were a coward."

Raven's left eye twitched violently. A vein appeared on her forehead at the insult.

"I always knew you didn't have luck with women. Not after Tai cucked you with Summer."

"May I remind you that Summer also cucked you with Tai."

"Fuck you."

Qrow clenched his fist, trembling. "You're bringing up Summer just like that? Do you even care!?"

"Why should I? The dead deserve to remain dead. Not show up and cause trouble for everyone as a half-Grimm, half-human," she replied, flippant.

"You don't know that that's really her," Qrow retorted. "It could be a fake, a replica."

"And I don't care."

"You may come to regret your words one day, sister." There was a cold, icy anger in his voice, which seemed like it would burst into flames at any given moment.

"I'll cross that bridge if I get to it, brother," Raven retorted with equally as much venom in her words, perhaps even more.

"When you get to it."

Off on the other side of the clearing, everyone began fussing over the unconscious Ruby.

"Weiss, do you know what happened?" Pyrrha asked, her eyebrows furrowed in concern over her friend.

"I don't know," Weiss exclaimed. "One second she was staring at the fight on the other side of the clearing, and the next, some kind of white light exploded!"

Yang frowned, but there was nothing they could do except wait for her to wake up. "Here, let me carry her." As she shouldered Ruby's light body, the lingering question of Summer Rose weighed on her mind. She pushed it away; now wasn't the time to think about that. She had to talk with Ruby, Qrow, and her dad later.

Soon, Raven and Vernal left the vicinity. Yang watched her go, conflicted; she didn't know if she wanted answers or not. So she let it be. Ruby was much more important than her; she'd learned that lesson before, when she was just a child.

That left Teams JNPR and PRWBY standing together in the clearing, along with Winter, Penny, Qrow, Tai, and Oscar, as well as the three Swords of Mistral. Ren was clutching at his arm; he was injured, badly. Yang carried Ruby in her arms, looking at her worriedly. Qrow came over. Feeling her pulse, he nodded. "She'll be fine."

"Heyy! What's up? How's everyone doing?" The huntsmen students turned to stare at one Yoshimoto Nao, who was in an extremely cheery mood. Somehow, she didn't seem to be able to read the room.

"My apologies for my colleague!" "Please excuse us!" Liu Kalman and Irwys Sage apologized profusely, bowing.

The green-eyed woman eyed them in mock anger. "Oh, come on! I was just being friendly! I called a few bullheads over, they should be here soon!"

However, her demeanor quickly shifted as she looked past them as a new presence entered the clearing. Then, she hastily kneeled. The other two Swords quickly followed suit.

"Lord Apollyon," they intoned, three voices melding into one. The rest of them stood there awkwardly. In truth, they didn't know whether to bow or kneel or stay where they were. No one spoke; the only sounds were the chirps of crickets and the gentle rush of winds.

"Rise," Percy gestured hastily. "There's no need to bow like that."

"You are the manifestation of a god; it's only right that we pay you the proper respect," Irwys Sage spoke, remaining in the kneeling position. However, the other two Swords stood up from their position.

"He wants us to stand, so we should do that," Liu Kalman argued, Yoshimoto Nao agreeing with him.

"Come on, Sage! Up!" Yoshimoto Nao grabbed the giant by her arm, dragging her to her feet.

Soon, the bullheads came. Nora carried Ren on her shoulder to the fastest-looking one, and that one left as quickly as it came. That left two other bullheads for them to board.

-o-o-o-

Mistral was an entirely different city from Vale. Atop Mount Olympus, it had an otherworldly, almost ancient atmosphere. Pagodas dotted the mountain on all sides, adorned with behemoths of spires reaching up like fingers scraping the sky; their eaves and overhangs were decorated with ornate patterns, blending a harmony of colors from green to black to yellow. Gargantuan bonsai trees grew alongside the pagodas; some were natural, others had treehouses built into them, with walkways strewn between the branches and connected to even other trees.

Temples and pavilions marked mammoth royal estates that were carved into the sides of the behemoth-like mountain, with courtyards and gardens here and there. There were sidewalks and bridges built into the structures, crossing across different summits and plateaus. A bustling city surrounded the foot of the mountain, and smaller, but more wealthy cities were placed at higher altitudes. As they rose further into the sky toward the top, the number of estates increased, as well as their opulence. It was incredible to imagine that all of this was one coherent city.

Yang stared outside, awestruck, with Ruby's head in her lap. The open-air design of the bullhead caused the wind to blow her hair off her shoulders, forcing her to narrow her eyes so that her eyelashes shaded her eyes from the harsh gales.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Tai wrapped an arm around her shoulder, chuckling. "Your last name is ancient Mistralian, you know?"

"Yeah, Xiao-Long, or little dragon," Yang nodded as she recited the words. Tai smiled in response.

"Made sure your seatbelt is on? Wouldn't want you to fall off and die or anything like that."

"Shut up," she punched her dad in the shoulder good-naturedly. "Besides, I can handle myself if I fall off." She kept a firm grip on Ruby with her other hand, though, keeping her tight to her body.

"Oh?" he wiggled his eyebrows. "Wanna try?"

"No, thank you very much," she snarked back. "The air is thin up here."

Tai opened his mouth to reply, but they finally breached the top of the mountain. It was a great plateau, spanning the size of a city itself, filled with bustling streets that contrasted the serene temple at the center, which seemed to have an aura of its own.

And the collection of buildings and structures closest to them was…

"We're here. Haven Academy."

Yang felt movement in her lap and looked down to see Ruby rubbing her eyes and yawning.

"…Where are we?" Yang couldn't help but crack a smile at her sister.

After they landed, Yang noticed that only one of the bullheads had come with them, the one containing Nora and Ren, who must have landed before them; the other one continued flying toward the important-looking structure in the center, most likely with the Swords of Mistral and Percy. But that conclusion had to be wrong since Yang was seeing a Sword of Mistral right in front of her. She stared at him, and after a moment, he noticed her looking and glanced back at her. The ensuing silence was awkward; well, only for her—he didn't seem to care.

"Do you need something?" That silvery voice again. It didn't drip with disdain, but there was a tone of coldness in it as if her very presence was an inconvenience. Yang's irritation flared.

"Not to be rude, but… why are you here?" she blurted out. "Shouldn't you be with the other Swords of Mistral?"

"I'm a student at Haven Academy."

He was a student at Haven? And a Sword of Mistral on top of that?

"What year are you in?" she pressed on. Surprised at the question, he blinked languidly, long eyelashes shading his striking amber orbs, gleaming even under the dark sky, in the absence of sunlight. White bangs brushed against his cheekbones like snow, delicately framing his face. She caught herself staring again and hastily averted her eyes.

"First-year," he replied tersely.

He was the same age as her!? Yang gaped at him, her pink lips open in a ring. The golden-eyed, white-haired boy briefly returned her gaze, then spun on his heel. That frigid air trailed him. For the first time, she noticed the distinctive way he walked: the diaphanous white robes he wore cloaked his steps so that he almost glided across the ground, the white fabric of his loose sleeves brushing against his slender waist.

"By the way," Yang glanced at Pyrrha on her right. "That's Liu Kalman. The first and last names are switched; in Mistralian tradition, the family name is considered more important. Here, I'm Nikos Pyrrha. You address someone by their last name unless you know them more closely."

"Huh, that's weird."

The corners of Pyrrha's lips quirked up at her comment. "That reminds me, I should teach you all proper Mistralian manners soon. Anyway, Kalman is a Sword of Mistral, the youngest in history. He's also the Heir Apparent to House Han."

"What does that mean?" Yang asked, her eyes trailing the boy's broad back, which was covered by robes of white silk with gold trims. His platinum-white hair was somewhat long, cut in layers so that it fell, covering the nape of his neck. "Is that why he thinks he's such a big shot?" Even if she didn't know him, that first—no, second impression wasn't very good. He was so detached and distant. But the first impression was when he had intervened to save her and Blake, so she felt conflicted.

"No, that's not why he's a big shot," Pyrrha let out an exhale of amusement at her words. "He's considered a big deal since he's the successor of the most important family in Mistral, the Liu family, or House Han. In Mistral, they're royalty," she emphasized, looking at Yang intently. "And he's the Prince."

"Are you saying I should treat him like that? He seems so…" Yang paused, searching for the right word, "aloof."

"No, quite the opposite," she shook her head, crimson bangs falling from side to side. "He's like me. An isolated prodigy who doesn't have many real friends." Yang traced Pyrrha's gaze, which seemed to linger on his back. "I'd actually like for you to be friends with him. He's somewhat antisocial and can be cold at times, but I'm sure you can crack his outer shell."

"Him? I don't know if I can talk to someone like that," Yang admitted. "I was going to thank him for saving us during the battle at Shion, but he just left without even saying bye… What a prick."

Pyrrha rolled her eyes but cracked a small smile regardless. "Please, just try, for a day perhaps. If you truly decide you can't do it, then you can cease talking to him altogether."

"Why are you telling me to do this?" Yang cocked her head to the side. "Wouldn't someone else be better? Like Percy or Jaune?"

Pyrrha shrugged, ascending the steps one after another. Her leg muscles tensed as she did so. "Percy's busy with his duties, and I think you're someone who can get to him, maybe. It's not anything too serious or a mission, just a fun little side task for you. Are you up for the challenge?"

"Why not?" Yang replied, as they finally entered the main building of Haven Academy. The halls were lit with torches and candles, casting a dim, warm glow in the corridor. A thought suddenly occurred to Yang that they probably looked like two conniving women with intentions of conquering the world. She coughed. "He doesn't seem like a bad guy. I could be friends with him. Probably."

"Great!" Pyrrha beamed at her, smiling. Yang watched her move to the front of the group, where she began chatting with her team. She wanted to move back to Ruby, but she was interrupted.

"Why were you staring so hard there hmm?" Blake sidled up to her, the cat faunus brushing her shoulder against Yang in a teasing manner. "Did someone catch your eye?"

For a second, Yang contemplated telling her what Pyrrha had said. She almost instantly dismissed the thought; this was something for her and her only, not a sentiment she should go gossiping to everyone about. She didn't want to do that.

"I wasn't," she denied. And since when did Blake learn to tease people like that? And talk girl talk? Maybe it was just because they were partners, so they were close with each other. But this side of Blake was new.

"You totally were," Blake insisted, a cattish smile on her face.

"Was not."

Their clique climbed the stairs to the Headmaster's office, where Kalman used the ring knocker, tapping it against the door. Someone shouted "Come in!" and he pushed one of the large, double doors open, stepping to the side to allow everyone to enter the office. A large lion faunus with a gray beard greeted them from behind the mahogany desk. His nameplate read 'Leonardo Lionheart'.

"Welcome to Haven Academy!" He swiftly stood up from his chair, then paused as he took in their faces. "Well if it isn't Qrow Branwen! Taiyang Xiao-Long! Long time no see!" He exchanged brief greetings with the two men, before turning to the rest of them.

"New students, I presume?" He glanced at Kalman, who nodded. "They're transferring from Beacon Academy. Team RWBY and Team JNPR."

The team name wasn't PRWBY; it was just RWBY?

"We're going back to school!?" Ruby shouted despondently, Zwei barking in agreement in her arms.

"Why of course," the Headmaster responded. "It's natural since you haven't graduated or earned your huntsmen licenses yet. In fact, Perseus recommended that you return to school, and Pyrrha instituted that you go to school."

"Those traitors!" Ruby cried out. "And Pyrrha! When I get my hands on them…"

Pyrrha shied away from her glares and cries. "Why isn't Percy coming to Haven with us?" Pyrrha voiced. "And why has Team PRWBY's name changed to RWBY?"

"Well, he's been granted his huntsman license to operate in other kingdoms. He doesn't need one in Mistral, of course. We've removed him from your team, which is why the name is now RWBY," the Headmaster said. "Certainly, that doesn't mean your friendship has ended with him or anything of that nature. He'll still be at Haven Academy."

"So who's the leader of the team, then? Is it Ruby?" Jaune asked the question that they were all thinking.

"Presumably, yes," Lionheart responded. "Here at Haven, teams are structured so that the second letter should be prepared to be the leader."

"Um… that's not how Beacon Academy did it," Yang said. "Ozpin kind of just… put letters around to form a word. In summary, it was super convoluted." She sensed someone looking at her and glanced to the side. For some reason, she thought the kid—Oscar Pinewood, was that his name?—was staring at her a little too hard. So she stared back at him.

Meanwhile, Lionheart pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head and muttering. "Ozpin and his naming schemes…"

"So who is the leader of your team, then?" Ruby glanced at Weiss; Blake looked at Weiss; Yang stared at Oscar Pinewood.

"Weiss, then." Blake and Ruby agreed. Yang voiced her agreement without her gaze leaving Oscar. Seriously, this kid was starting to annoy her; why were his eyes older than Qrow's?

Lionheart looked at the Schnee heiress. "Well, Weiss Schnee, are you up to the task?"

"Huh?" Weiss looked up, seemingly bewildered. She had been awfully quiet the entire time, ever since they started riding the bullhead. Was she okay?

"I, yes, I accept the role," she curtsied hastily.

"Very well. Your team name shall be…" Lionheart seemed to rack his head for a second. "Team WRBY. With a 'W'. Pronounced 'Ruby'. Unless you have any objections. That means Ruby will be the backup team leader. Is everyone satisfied with this arrangement?"

"No objections from Team WRBY."

"I have an objection. Team W-R-B-Y. Very creative name," Qrow drawled.

The Headmaster raised his hands in mock surrender, shrugging. "I'm afraid I don't have nearly the same creativity as Ozpin."

"Now, I'll have some staff bring you to orientation, and class begins tomorrow." A chorus of whines poured forth from Ruby, but no one paid her any mind. Kalman began leading the way to the Haven Academy student dormitories, with some staff members bringing up the rear of the group.

-o-o-o-

After they finished the hours-long orientation, they were assigned to their dorms—luckily or unluckily enough, Teams WRBY and JNPR were given dorms next to each other, facing across the hall. Pyrrha and Jaune were the only two representing Team JNPR since Nora and Ren remained in the Haven infirmary, where doctors were treating Ren's injury. They had made plans to visit him later, once they had settled in their dormitories and done some housekeeping tasks.

"I heard Percy got his own mansion and everything… I'm so jealous right now." That comment came from Yang, who was in front of them, staring pointedly at the dorm space they were offered at Haven Academy. It wasn't bad by any means—maybe the size of a small apartment. It might have been slightly bigger than what they had at Beacon.

"Stop complaining, Yang. It's probably better than what we had at Beacon, honestly." Blake voiced her thoughts. Her partner elbowed her in the ribs. Blake elbowed back.

"Let's just get our stuff in."

They lugged their backpacks into the dormitory; they hadn't packed much besides that and their weapons, courtesy of being huntresses. It was what let them drop their things off and fight at Shion. They were double After unpacking, they claimed their bunk beds.

"I call dibs!" Ruby shouted, climbing onto one of the lower beds. Blake sighed. Yang claimed the other lower bed, and Weiss took the upper bed on top of Ruby, which left her to take the bed above Yang. The room was high-ceiling, so it wasn't cramped.

"Does anyone want to talk about what just happened at Shion?" Blake asked, staring up at the ceiling. Across from her, Weiss only stared at her hands; something was up with her.

"Yeah, I think we should." Blake climbed down from her bed to join Yang, who was sitting on the edge of the bed. Yang scooted over to make space, and the cat faunus sat,

"What happened, Ruby? Why were you knocked out?" "Yeah, what happened?" When attacked with a barrage of questions, the silver-eyed girl appeared slightly flustered; however, she soon regained her composure.

"Um, okay, so Uncle Qrow kind of told me something before," Ruby said, scratching her head. "He said that those born with silver eyes are destined to live the life of legendary warriors. They're legends of fairytales, basically. They can emit light that destroys Grimm if the conditions are right like I have to be very emotional at the moment. And I think I just unleashed my first one at Shion. That's why I got knocked out."

"Hold on, so you're telling us that your eyes have some kind of cannon-like destructive power for the Grimm?" Yang questioned. Blake absorbed the information more easily; however, she was thinking about something else as well.

Silver-eyed warriors? Adam had silver eyes… That was probably important. But she didn't want to bring up her past with the White Fang. Still, what had happened the last time she did it? Blake made up her mind. She had kept things about her past from her team before, and it didn't work out. She trusted them now, and they trusted her. She wasn't going to make that mistake again.

"Adam Taurus has silver eyes," she interrupted. That caught even Weiss' attention, and she stared intensely at Blake, along with the other two members of their team. "The White Fang leader has silver eyes."

"That guy that almost killed me at Beacon?" At Blake's nod, Yang continued. "How do you know that? He always wears that blindfold."

"Because I was his closest confidant." That was awkward to admit, but Blake was glad she had gotten it off her chest. However, once she had uttered the words, the stares shifted to her. The silence was suffocating.

"I was young and dumb," she started explaining. "He was several years older than me, so I kind of just followed him and we got into a weird relationship. He led the White Fang further and further down the path of violence, and eventually, I abandoned him."

"Holy shit our team has so much lore," Yang commented. Weiss blinked at Blake and then seemed to let it go. "The fact that you were personally involved with one of the heads of the White Fang isn't my problem. As long as you're on our side now, it's okay."

Ruby shrugged as if it wasn't any news to her. "We've had enough craziness for one day, I think."

"Anyway, getting back on track, is there any way to train those silver eyes of yours?" Blake asked. Ruby only shrugged in response. "I think I just have to keep using them."

"Should we go visit Ren now?" Blake hoped he was alright, even though they hadn't talked much. Team JNPR was their sister team.

"Yeah, let's go." At their general consensus, they journeyed out of their room, following the directory toward the infirmary, which was also on the first floor.

The corridors were lit dimly with torches; they could feel the momentary heat on their faces as they walked by. The hall was constructed so that their footsteps, though light, echoed through the hallway. At some point, they came to an exit that allowed two open-air exits: one to the courtyard, the other to the interior entranceway of Haven Academy's main building. They continued on and eventually reached the infirmary.

A nurse looked up as they opened the door, and smiled amicably. "Are you Lie Ren's friends?" At their nods, she led them to a room within the infirmary and opened the door. "He's doing better now, but he's resting, so please don't wake him."

Ren was in a white gown, his black hair splayed across the white pillow that he lay in. His chest rose and fell peacefully with his breaths; he was hooked up to some inhaler, multiple wires, and an IV bag attached to him. Nora was in one of the chairs, head laid back and snoring rather loudly. Pyrrha and Jaune were seated, as well, and waved at them when they saw them.

"It was scorpion venom, from that fugitive, Tyrian Callows," Pyrrha explained to them, frowning. "He was a former Sword of Mistral. He has an aura-disabling semblance that works when he touches you, so that was how he injected his scorpion venom from his tail into Ren's body. Thankfully, he's okay now, and they're removing the venom from his system. As you can see, the skin where it spread is still somewhat purple."

"He'll live though, right?" Ruby piped up. Pyrrha nodded, and the silver-eyed girl smiled. "Then everything's good!"

Blake shook her head amusedly at Ruby's optimism. Before, she used to get tired of it, but now she had come to appreciate it at times.

"By the way, can we all like, step outside? A lot of things happened in that fight at Shion, and I think we should discuss everything together," Yang suggested. Everyone nodded in agreement, and they left the infirmary quietly to avoid startling Ren. After stepping into the hallway, they found an empty dorm room and crowded into it.

"Uh, so I think we should talk about my silver eyes, and then Percy," Ruby cleared her throat. "Okay, let me just dump the info on you. So Uncle Qrow told me this, which he learned from Ozpin. It's kind of a fairytale: those born with silver eyes are destined to live the life of legendary warriors. And I have silver eyes. Those warriors can emit light that destroys Grimm if the conditions are right like I have to be very emotional at the moment. And I just unleashed my first one at Shion. That's how I knocked myself out."

For their credit, Pyrrha and Jaune seemed to take the information rather well. "That's good, so we have another weapon against the Grimm!" Jaune exclaimed. Pyrrha remained quiet for a few more seconds, however, pondering something, before she spoke.

"What caused it?" Pyrrha asked.

"What do you mean?"

"What caused you to unleash your silver eyes? If I'm understanding your explanation correctly, they unleashed because of extremely strong emotions; so what caused the emotions?"

"I, ah, well…" Ruby scratched the back of her head. "I, uh, ah, Jaune was about to die to that stupid giant so…"

Everyone nodded understandably. It was traumatizing to witness the near death of a friend. Anyone would have had a similar reaction. However, Yang had a grin on her face that Blake found creepy. She kept muttering something about having a chat with the ladykiller later; what was that about?

"Then, let's talk about Percy."

"I don't think any discussion needs to be had," Jaune said. "He's our friend, still the leader, he's just a lot more powerful now for some reason."

"With great power comes great responsibility; you don't know how power might corrupt," Blake pointed out, briefly playing the devil's advocate. "I know that well. I saw it happen to Adam Taurus."

"You can't be serious—Percy is no crazy, genocidal rebel like Adam Taurus." Old Blake would have completely disagreed with that description, but new Blake, try as she might, found that it was perfectly apt for Adam Taurus. "Come on, he's saved the world twice over, he could have become a god if he wanted to, but he declined. He's still with us; we're his friends, he'd never abandon us," Jaune argued back. "He came to help us at Shion." Every argument that Jaune put forth was sound; that was a strong indicator of his rapid development as a leader, the ability to persuade.

"I agree," Pyrrha said simply, along with Nora and Ruby. Yang and Weiss nodded their heads, although the blue-eyed girl's gaze seemed far off, her mind away from the conversation.

"I was just playing devil's advocate," Blake admitted. "I don't think we should abandon him or anything like that. He just has more duties now in Mistral."

"He had to meet with the Council," Pyrrha offered, smiling slightly. "I feel bad for him."

"Are they a bunch of morons?" Yang suggested. Pyrrha nodded at her comment. "You could say that."

"Oh, by the way, I don't think Weiss, Pyrrha, or Blake know this. Salem's immortal."

When no one spoke to contradict Yang's seemingly bizarre statement, along with Nora, Ruby, and a chorus of confusion rang out.

"…Excuse me!?"

-o-o-o-

"Here," Nao handed him some robes, which were primarily red with gold and white trims and accents. They were made of some silk-like material, which glimmered in the sun. "Put these on. You're meeting the Council of Mistral, a composition of the most powerful families in Mistral, so you have to look the part." He had to meet the Council, then Mercury and Neo, and finally Lionheart. Too many meetings in one afternoon.

"What? Are you my secretary or something?" Percy jested.

"I could be," she joked back. "I'm doing the job, at this point."

He rolled his eyes in response. They were still in the open-air bullhead, which meant that the wind was blowing him, but he changed anyway; it was too hot to stay in these Atlesian clothes. To do so, he erected a barrier between him and the rest of the cabin.

"What? Too afraid to change in front of some ladies?" Percy shook his head amusedly.

Once he finished changing, they quickly landed, and Percy breathed in the Mistralian air. It was thin at this elevation, but that could also serve as a type of lung training to counteract periods of low oxygen.

"Should I brief you for the Council?" He had to crane his head to look up at Irwys Sage, who was the tallest woman he had ever met. He shook his head in the no; he'd prepared amply for meeting the Council.

As he stepped off the bullhead, he noted the uncanny resemblance of the architecture to East Asia on Earth. There was a great red arch that had its color somewhat faded into orange and yellow, and as he stepped through, he was able to appreciate the large pagoda-like structure in front of him. It was the largest structure in the entirety of the city of Mistral. Its golden spire reached up to the sky like the tip of a spear, the sun glinting off of it; it looked sharp enough to draw blood.

He led their small congregation of three, with Nao behind him on the right, and Sage behind him on the left. They entered the foyer, where he could smell the scent of candles. On both sides of the corridor were pictures of great Mistralian generals and nobles, both from the past and the present. Up ahead, there were four imperial guards, dressed in red with silver-tipped spears. Each button on the coat was meticulously crafted, and the golden epaulets sat perfectly on their shoulders. However, it was the golden trimming that caught his eye. It bore his emblem: that signature golden xiphos and shield. No one could miss that emblem, that symbol.

There were two guards on each side of the mammoth-like double doors. The guards parted before them in sync, opening the latches and pulling open the gates. As he entered, the torches around the room lit up at his presence, allowing him to glimpse the Acropolis.

The council room was more like an indoor amphitheater, the domed ceiling at least five floors high. A colossal, bronze chandelier hung from the dome, a thousand crystal prisms refracting light. The nobles of Mistral were assembled in groups, presumably their families, most of them minor houses, which were less important. Seated at the top and center, above the rest in a clear position of importance, there were five houses—the Great Houses of Mistral, containing the most important families. From left to right: House Roma, House Caesar, House Han, House Nikos, and House Nero. At the front of the room was a throne on top of an imperial dais, made of marble. Its crimson velvet canopy once again bore his crest—the xiphos and shield.

A voice boomed throughout the vicinity, accompanied by a symphony of drums and chanting. It didn't need a microphone—that was simply how powerful the voice was.

"Announcing his Lord and Majesty! Sovereign of the Boundless Seas, Ruler of the Celestial Skies, Monarch of Thunder, Bringer of Storms, and the Crown of the Kingdom of Mistral… Apollyon!"

"All hail Apollyon!" Every noble stood from their seats to salute him.

"Apollyon! Apollyon! Apollyon!" The sound of his name pouring forth from their lips was surreal, and would never grow old, no matter how many times he'd heard it before. It was a rush of strength, invigorating him like a roaring tide of seawater.

He walked briskly to the throne, foregoing the small steps to the dais in favor of stepping over it in one, smooth motion.

After around one minute had elapsed, everyone sat back down, except one noble: Nero Claudius, who was dressed in black Mistralian robes, similar to a silken toga. There was a smirk on his face.

"I have a question."

"Liu Kalman is not with us today; he is recovering from his injuries in the battle," Nao interrupted smoothly. "Lord Nero, I kindly remind you to please sit back down and remember your place in front of his Lord and Majesty Apollyon. Otherwise, security may be forced to escort you out of the Acropolis."

Stunned, the noble did not know how to respond other than to return to his seat. Percy had to suppress a smile. Nao was fluent in legalese.

"Thank you," Percy spoke, drawing all eyes to himself. He didn't need to project his voice throughout the Acropolis; it was designed so that his voice would carry to even those in the back. "I take that before me is the Council of Mistral."

"It is," Liu Bang, the Head of House Han replied. Percy nodded in response and allowed the hall to sit in silence.

One minute. The nobles began whispering amongst each other, casting furtive glances in his direction.

Two minutes. The murmurs grew louder, the Mistralians swiveling their heads and gossiping to their neighbors.

Three minutes. The nobles began to grow restless, some even trying to stand up, except they were restrained by their peers.

A loud, violent clap pierced their ears—the sound of lightning. That quieted most of them, but not all. Another one came, in perfect rhythm with the clap of his hands. And another one, this time lightning flaring between the tips of his fingers; the after-image of the blaze and the sharp tang of ozone that floated through the air revealed to them that it was not a party trick—rather, it was a true thunderbolt.

"Three minutes. Is that all you have the patience for?" That silenced them entirely; the audience was now still, not daring to even move, akin to stone statues. "You should understand that I don't tolerate disrespect."

"I sincerely apologize on behalf of the Council of Mistral for their behavior," Lord Liu swiftly stood up from his seat, bowing. His gray beard swayed with the motion. "They will be immediately disciplined for their unruly and reckless actions."

Stepping up to take the blame, while taking charge of handing out punishments. This was Liu Bang's prowess in navigating politics.

"Thank you. Now, onto more important matters. When is my coronation scheduled for?"

The Council began looking at one another, giving each other accusing glances. Percy figured that if he was going to play the part of a god, he should be exceedingly arrogant. And that was exactly what he was doing.

"We have not yet scheduled your coronation yet, your Majesty."

"Are you jesting with me?" At his words, a loud clap of thunder rang out above the Acropolis. The entire building vibrated slightly, and a chill swept through the vicinity, the hairs on arms rising up as if electrified. "Is this the best Mistral has to offer? I should return to Vale."

At those words, the nobles panicked. "Schedule it immediately," Lord Liu ordered. "Lord Apollyon, we can have your coronation in precisely one week. Moreover, we are constructing an Imperial Palace for you. Your current estate is being prepared for you."

"That's satisfactory," Percy inclined his head. "You may give Yoshimoto Nao the details. I declare this meeting over." Then, to every onlooker's eye, he left. Nao followed him out of the building. Why did he leave the Acropolis?

Simply put, he was bored. So he left.

"What's this about me being your secretary?" Nao sidled up to him.

"Well, since you were joking about it, and you were the only one there along with Irwys Sage, I gave the job to you. Happy now?" Percy grinned triumphantly. "That's what you expected anyway, right?"

In truth, he gave the job to Nao because he thought Sage was too devout to be a secretary for him; she was the first to bow at Shion, and the worship, although not excessive, made him feel uncomfortable. On the other hand, Kalman was busy guiding his friends around Haven Academy and was a student there himself, so it wasn't like he could ask him to help.

Nao rolled her green eyes at him, brown tresses flapping gently in the breeze. "Sure, Lord Apollyon. I'll do your paperwork and secretary work for you."

-o-o-o-

She sat on the wooden bench, her back placed against the stone wall. Even though it was hard and cool to the touch, it made for a surprisingly nice headrest. Or maybe it was just her hair cushioning it. The sun was starting to set, now, dipping below the horizon, although the air remained somewhat humid. They were here because Ruby insisted on asking Uncle Qrow and their dad about the Grimm woman that was at Shion… Summer Rose.

The name, the memories of the fight, her mother's voice—every time she even thought about it, it sent chills down her spine. Even as she was touring the school today, or doing something as banal as unpacking her luggage, the memory of what had happened assaulted her. She desperately wished to lock it away in some recess of her mind so that it was less than an afterthought. She had lost her composure during that fight. Blake had almost been killed, had it not been for Kalman and the Swords arriving.

After a while, she heard the colossal, double doors open.

"Yang. Was that… earlier, you know."

"Did Uncle Qrow and Dad not tell you anything?" she replied, not opening her eyes. She knew her sister was right in front of her, anyway. Ruby had been asking about Summer after the Haven Academy tour. Yang didn't know how to answer her questions, so she turned her to Uncle Qrow and Tai. Truth be told, she wanted to ask them some questions, too, but Ruby knew less than her. Yang had at least somewhat of an idea of what had happened, so she allowed Ruby to ask the questions, figuring she would tell her later.

"Well, they did say some things…" Yang gave a start when her sister grabbed her hand, and she opened her lilac eyes to meet the gaze of Ruby's silver ones. Her voice was so vulnerable, so frangible. "Yang, please, just tell me. Did you fight against our mom at Shion? Summer?"

For a short moment, Yang contemplated telling Ruby an ugly lie, so that she wouldn't be hurt by the revelation. But her sister was growing up, now. She was seventeen. Yang couldn't indulge her with fairytales anymore. So she chose to tell her.

"…Yes."

At her answer, Ruby sucked in a breath. She must have confirmed what Qrow and Tai told Ruby: that Summer was at Shion. And that she was Salem's plaything.

"So Salem has really turned Mom into some… Grimm Apostle. What did she look like?"

There was a lump in her throat. Yang swallowed, but it was still there. She couldn't get rid of it. Focusing back on Ruby, she could see the beginnings of tears in her sister's eyes.

"She carried a mecha-shift axe-bow for her weapon. She was sarcastic, teasing, but powerful. Her eyes engulfed all light. They were blacker than night."

"She's supposed to have silver eyes… She's supposed to have silver eyes, isn't she, Yang?!" Her voice broke down at the end of a sentence, becoming hoarse and strained. Those teardrops began pooling out of her eyes and fell down her cheeks to her chin. Leaning forward, Yang drew her sister into an embrace, allowing Ruby to sob on her shoulder, as she rubbed comforting circles on her back. She herself had to blink away what seemed like the beginnings of tears.

"What do we do, Yang?"

Yang too, was confused. What should they do? How much of Mom was left in that… thing? What had Salem done to her? But all of that was irrelevant because all of that had been in the past. The answer to Ruby's question was simple, and it came to her once she was able to clear her mind of pointless speculation.

"What we've always done. Train hard, and try to get Mom back."

-o-o-o-

"Mercury, Neo, report. Well, I guess just Mercury is reporting. Since, well… you know."

Neo glowered at him in a kind of faux, joking anger; Percy ignored her. As they began making their report to him, Percy shoveled food into his mouth. He'd ordered takeout from a multitude of different restaurants and had them delivered to the small apartment that Mercury and Neo were hiding out in at the moment. Sushi, rice and udon noodles, dumplings, gyros, any type of food he could get his hands on. He was absolutely starved.

"Got it, Boss," Mercury replied. He cleared his throat, glancing at the paper he held in his hand. "Well, first of all, I've discovered that the Covenant of Salem is officially established as a religion in Mistral. They have a hierarchal structure that I'm gonna detail here: Hybrids, Deacons, Archdeacons, and then the Apostles, which served Salem herself. Four Lower Apostles and four Upper Apostles."

Percy had heard from Nao that they had fought several apostles at Shion. Their side had been losing, which meant that these apostles were powerful. They included Tyrian Callows, Hazel Rainart, Cinder Fall, and some other unidentified apostles.

"We also discovered your…uh, Church. I'm going to read out the structure of the Church for you," the silver-haired boy scratched his head as he read his report. "There are eight Seraphs, which are your team and Team JNPR. There are also Thanes, Prophets, High Priests, Priests, and then Enlightened. For your information, Sun Wukong is a Thane."

"Interesting," he swallowed another sushi roll. That reminded him that he needed to learn how to use chopsticks soon since he was going to eat dinner with the five Great Lords from the Mistralian Council tomorrow. "So, they've set up an entire official religion without guidance."

"Uh, yeah, I guess that pretty much summarizes it."

"That's pretty impressive," Percy commented. "Anyway, can you set up a meeting with them? I'll give you two a Thane position within the Church too, for some extra incentive."

"…I don't think that's a lot of incentive. But sure thing, Boss." Neo typed out something on her phone and showed it to him. Percy rolled his eyes.

"Fine, I'll give you guys some funds so that you can go shopping. Happy?"

"Very," Neo typed out on her phone again. Mercury stared at her.

"You can go to the biggest mall in Mistral and go on a romantic ice cream date." At his words, Neo colored slightly, and turned her back on him, her half-brown, half-pink hair swishing over her back due to the motion.

"Shut up. We're not dating." Mercury scowled at him; however, there was a hint of red on his ears that betrayed his expression. Percy merely smirked.

"Yet."

Neopolitan seethed at him, her mismatched eyes narrowing at him. If looks could kill, Percy would be six feet under right now. Good thing they didn't.

-o-o-o-

"It's great to finally meet you, Perseus."

"I could say the same to you, Headmaster Lionheart. And please, call me Percy," he responded in kind, as they shook hands. "Then, call me Leonardo."

Lionheart's grip was loose, but not weak, and they sat back down in their respective chairs. Everything in this office was rather luxurious, and he settled himself comfortably on the cushion of the mahogany armchair.

"Well, what are we here to discuss, Leonardo?"

Percy watched Lionheart like a hawk, his sea-green eyes piercing into Lionheart's; the lion faunus seemed to sweat under his gaze, a drop gathering on his forehead. It might have been mistaken for the heat, if not for his presence. The instant he had entered, the room had cooled. He hadn't consciously willed that to happen, either.

"…Salem is watching us." The mere utterance of the name seemed to shadow the room with darkness; Percy quickly repelled it. However, a Grimm-like orb floated out of the closet in the office. It was a black orb, with tentacles hanging limply, resembling a jellyfish.

"P-Please, kill that thing!" Lionheart stuttered in terror; the orb flung a tentacle at him, attaching around his neck. It began to tighten, choking him, but Percy swiftly drew his sword, slashing through it. Another slash was enough to kill the thing entirely. Salem was watching and listening through that Grimm?

"Are there any more?"

Lionheart shook his head in the negative. "What did she do?" Percy interrogated the lion faunus in front of him. Something must have happened.

"She forced me to reveal all of the freelancer huntsmen's positions. They died shortly after."

"You what?" With sweeping arms, everything from Lionheart's desk crashed to the ground, shattering like brittle.

"She forced me to obey her!" Lionheart protested. "I had no choice! She was going to kill me!"

"Pathetic." A Headmaster of one of Remnant's four huntsmen academies, who was supposed to train the next generation of huntsmen, was cowed into submission by a single Grimm?

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't dispose of you right now." His voice was cold, frigid; Apollyon leveled his sword at the lion faunus' neck. Within his stormy eyes, a lone thunderbolt struck the sea.

Lionheart swallowed audibly, his hands up in surrender. "I…I made a mistake."

"Mistake doesn't cut it," Riptide slashed through the mahogany desk like scissors through thin paper, sending splinters out toward the sides of the room. You ended huntsmen lives just to save your own tail."

"I know, I'm sorry!" Lionheart cried out. "Please, please, anything, please forgive me! Please save me from Salem!"

Apollyon weighed his choices; on one hand, he could save him, but for what purpose? Salem already knew that Lionheart had become a turncoat; what use did the lion faunus have? On the other hand, he could kill him here, or perhaps organize an execution. It was simple to do—he could picture it almost perfectly. One simple swing of his sword, slicing cleanly through the neck—after all, celestial bronze remained a superior metal—and Lionheart's head, with that shocked expression, would slide off onto the ground, spurting blood from where its neck had been. The blood would coat the floor of the office, though the walls would remain untouched. Lionheart would be excommunicated from existence. The same went for an execution or assassination—merely slipping poison in his food would do the trick. No one would say that Lionheart didn't deserve those options.

However, all three of those were too messy for his taste. He would have to replace the Headmaster position at Haven, too. The entire kingdom of Mistral would be shaken by his betrayal. Besides, Lionheart couldn't turn to Salem anymore. He had to be loyal to Apollyon. A pawn.

"You will serve me," Lionheart nodded frantically at his words. "You will write a daily report to me consisting of anything of note that occurred that day."

"Yes, yes my Lord! Anything for you, my Lord!"

Apollyon cast a dismissive eye toward the damage. There were bookshelves on the floor, along with numerous splinters and wood fragments strewn across the once luxurious Mistralian carpet that now looked like a dumpster. "You better get that cleaned up."

-o-o-o-

Shrouded in a soft darkness, Weiss lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Even in the absence of light, she could tell that it was a perfect off-white, the texture smooth and clear. She wondered if it was rotting on the inside, tearing at the seams and falling apart. Like her.

Tossing and turning, she lay there for hours, trying to sleep. They had classes early tomorrow. Sometimes it was too hot, other times too cold. The clock struck two. At the same time, she found the pillow too warm; she flipped it to the other side, only to realize it was warm on that side, too—she must have flipped it earlier. She needed to get up.

She gently kicked the wrinkled sheets away so that she could sit up. Shuffling herself out of bed and climbing down the bunk ladder, she made sure to be quiet, in case she disturbed her roommates. Once she was near the ground, she slid her feet into the slippers that Haven had provided them. They were soft, made of satin and velvet, and the pleasant feeling accompanied her as she padded her way out of the dorm room and toward the bathroom. Feeling against the wall with the back of her right hand, she finally found the light switch and flicked it on using her index finger.

The electric bulbs strewn across the top of the mirror and the ceiling cast a warm yellow on the pallor of her face—not quite as warm as the torches that had been put out earlier in the night. She could feel a tired ache setting in her bones, though she didn't seem to have eyebags yet. Moving her tongue along her inner left cheek back and forth several times, she felt a textured line there; she must have bitten her cheek earlier.

She was far from her father, but she continued to feel the bars of the cage that he had kept her in all her life. His decisions had dictated her life for as long as she could remember; perhaps that was why she continued to feel his presence over her shoulder, like the opposite of a guardian angel.

For a moment, she debated going back to bed but ultimately decided to go outside. She made her way down the stairs and out of the dorms, taking care to avoid a guard on his nightshift patrol.

The midnight air brushed against her cheeks. The moon was high in the sky along with the stars, and even though they were partially obscured by clouds, they cast a soft, white glow on her skin. Moving across the garden, she sat down on a plain rosewood bench. She tucked her hair behind her ear.

Jacques Schnee had influenced her actions that night, no doubt. But her decisions were her own regardless; she couldn't blame this on her father, or anyone else but herself.

Her hands were shaking, trembling slightly, refusing to remain under her control; using her right hand, she grabbed her left wrist, attempting to calm herself. Even now, she could vividly remember that night. What she had done.

She bit her lip and tasted blood. Was she that fragile, that delicate?

A white flower caught her gaze from across the courtyard. It might have been a jasmine flower, but she couldn't tell from this distance. Venturing closer confirmed her hypothesis. The moonlight only amplified its brilliance, the pleasant fragrance drifting into her senses and enveloping her. Her gentle, warm breaths tickled the leaves, and they seemed to open ever so slightly in response. The sound of the crickets softly chirping only added to the ambiance of the atmosphere.

That night was a mistake that could not be forgiven. A mistake that she never should have made. A sin. And that was the simple truth.

She had always thought of herself as a good person; someone on her high horse. She was good, the Schnee Dust Corporation was good, and the White Fang was bad. When Winter left, and she became the Heiress, everything changed. Jacques wasn't good anymore; he was bad. So she had adjusted her worldview, continuing to keep the black and white ideal.

But there was no right or wrong, no black or white; only gray. That was something every child learned as they grew older; some learning that lesson earlier, others later. Everyone lied, some for themselves, others for the sake of their loved ones.

"Weiss?" At the sound of her name, she was broken out of her thoughts, and turned her head, noting that Blake was awake. She must have made too much noise while climbing down.

"Blake… Are the others awake? Did I wake them up?" she asked. The amber-eyed girl shook her head in the negative. She joined Weiss on the bench, sitting next to her; there remained a small gap between them.

"Why are you up so late, Weiss?" Turning, Weiss met her gaze—her yellow orbs were filled with some combination of curiosity and worriedness. "It's nothing," she found herself replying in haste. She had never been close to Blake, and she felt hesitant to discuss sensitive topics like the Schnee Dust Corporation with the cat faunus.

"Did something happen in Atlas? Does it have to do with the Schnee Dust Corporation?"

"…Something like that."

Blake did not respond, her yellow orbs transfixed on her hands as if collecting her thoughts. Her black tresses swayed in the night breeze.

Despite being her teammate, neither of them really knew each other that well. They had chafed with each other at first. How could they not? They were the exact opposite of each other. Blake was a revolutionary faunus, in the chain of command for the White Fang, directly related to Adam Taurus. She was a jaded rebel who was skeptical of everything. She had only ever seen the world oppress the faunus, with the SDC leading the charge. But Weiss was the Schnee Heiress, and she had only ever witnessed the atrocities committed by the White Fang in retaliation. That was what shaped her worldview. She had been somewhat arrogant when she had first met the rest of her team; she had been spoiled, handed everything on a silver platter, but trapped within a cage. Every one of them had their own problems.

"Have you ever killed someone?"

Weiss froze, turning her head. "What do you mean?" She didn't understand why Blake was asking such an outlandish question. Of course, she had never killed anyone before.

"It's just a question. Answer it honestly, please."

"No." A thought struck her. "Do you mean to say, before Beacon—"

"No, I didn't, thankfully. I witnessed Adam do it, though."

"Adam Taurus."

"Yeah. He murdered someone in cold blood," Blake's voice remained steady. "An SDC worker who was just unloading some dust crates. The way Adam drew his blade like it was routine for him. Something he'd done a thousand times before. You know what the most insane part was?"

"He made sure he suffered. He didn't cut the head off clean like he could have. He had fun with it. Toyed with him, twisting the blade in the flesh. Sliced his gut open. The intestines were on the ground. Only then did he finally tear his throat out. I couldn't do anything but watch."

Bile threatened to rise in her throat, and Weiss swallowed, forcing it back down. To distract herself, she bounced her right knee. Blake seemed detached as she spoke, although her voice gave away what she really felt. "Afterward, he told me the story of a faunus unloading dust crates from a faunus-run dust company. This was before the SDC had become a monopoly. The faunus had been brutally mauled by a human thief. Limbs strewn about on the ground, hanging on by the nerves and the skin, teeth cracked and chipped. Throat slit open. "SDC" was scarred into the skin of the stomach with the point of a knife. Adam said we merely were paying it back in blood. Every single faunus death. No half measures. It was them, or us. His actions made that very explicit."

Her stomach churned at Blake's words, even as she tried to force her mind to stop picturing it. Weiss stopped bouncing her knee. Even though so many relatives had disappeared when she was just a child, this painted an all too gruesome picture of what had happened to them as captives.

"Up until then, I was still stuck in a fantasy of freeing all the faunus from their human oppressors. We were doing the right thing. But after that, I left the White Fang, searching for my own path. That was when I got to Beacon. We all had our fair share of troubling experiences."

"Sorry," Blake apologized. "I didn't mean to unsettle you like that."

"No," Weiss found herself replying, in light of Blake's confession. It painted a much clearer picture of her teammate, and she even found herself sympathizing with the cat faunus, something that she never thought would have ever happened. "It was…" she paused, searching for the right word, "enlightening."

Blake snorted in amusement. "I'm glad I told you it, then." Her teammate closed her eyes and rested her head on the bench. "I'm not expecting you to tell me anything about what happened in Atlas with the Schnee Dust Corporation, either."

Weiss nodded somberly. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

Without noticing it until now, Weiss found that they were sitting beside each other, shoulders and legs touching ever so slightly. Instead of pushing away the moment of physical contact like she undoubtedly would have done half a year ago, she embraced it. She shifted next to Blake.

The gap closed entirely, and Weiss leaned her head on Blake's shoulder. The amber-eyed girl leaned her head on top of hers. She might have hated Blake at first, but now, she understood why Professor Ozpin had assigned them to one team. Like Ruby, Blake's worldview was also incredibly different from hers. Each of them provided one another with a new perspective.

That was what was important in a team.

-o-o-o-

Their estate was colossal, befitting that of a Great House's estate. Spanning multiple acres, it was more than large enough for the six of them who would be staying there, that being Qrow, a kid named Oscar Pinewood, Tai, Penny, Winter, and himself. Ironwood had informed him that Penny and Winter would stay in Mistral for the time being, unless something more urgent occurred back in Atlas. He surmised that they were staying because Ironwood wished to keep tabs on him, which was fair. Still, Nao had insisted on making an imperial palace suitable for an emperor. He could move Mercury and Neo in if they proved themselves trustworthy. Maybe, if Lionheart permitted it, he could move Teams WRBY and JNPR into the estate. He wanted to see his friends, and Pyrrha especially, but it had been a long day. That would have to wait for tomorrow.

Percy stopped after the guards and the gates, noting that he could see it—the massive to-be imperial palace—undergoing construction already. The gates closed with a solid clang behind him. It was on the highest plateau of Mistral, slightly elevated above the rest of the city. It was going to be a behemoth of a palace, larger than any Mistralian noble's estate could ever dream of being. He shook his head in mild amusement, continuing into the courtyard, parts of which were shaded by plant-covered pergolas, others by great arch structures made of marble.

The courtyard had to stretch at least an acre by itself, housing a variety of lush trees, from cherry blossom trees to bonsai trees to sakura trees. There was an intricate water fountain designed at the center, where the liquid cascaded downward; its base was a mosaic of polished stones, which formed concentric rings, leading the eye of the viewer toward the heart of the fountain. Since it was such a large courtyard, he saw workers busy watering the plants and flowers; each cradled a watering can, its spout aimed at the thirsty roots of the vegetation. Apparently, this was the last round of caring for the verdure before they called in for the night.

Entering the main building, Percy made his way up to the quarters, which were on the third floor. He could either take the elevator or the stairs; tired, he chose the elevator. It was fast, and the doors soon opened; he stepped out. They had given him the master bedroom, and he didn't know what he would do with all that space—perhaps buy some decorative furniture and lights? Speaking of which, the corridor was fairly dim, lit by only torches that flickered every dozen seconds or so. Moving toward his bedroom, he stopped in his tracks when he saw a familiar figure in the passageway, leaning on the wall beside the double doors leading to his room.

Pyrrha? Why was she here? It was late, almost midnight; wasn't she supposed to be at the Haven Academy dorms? Even still, he was glad she was here. He took a moment to trace his eyes over her figure. Draped in traditional Mistralian robes that complimented her figure, she looked almost hauntingly beautiful in the low light of the passageway.

"It's good to see you, Pyrrha. How have you been?"

"…I've been well. Let's go inside." At the end of her sentence, her voice wavered strangely; he dutifully followed her into his sleeping quarters. They were decorated in the main theme of aquamarine, black, and silver, consistent with his usual color scheme. The ceiling housed a combination of electric light bulbs and torches. A king-sized bed was set up along the center of one of the walls. There were couches on the sides of the room, on one of which Pyrrha sat. Whoever had set up his bedroom had done a very good job.

"Percy… I have something to tell you." That trembling voice caused him to swivel his head from the furniture, examining her instead; seated on the black velvet settee, she would not meet his eyes, her gaze downcast on her lap, as if it were frozen. Her legs were drawn together.

"What is it?" he asked. When she did not respond, he moved to join her on the couch. When he did so, he sat precisely next to her; not so close that they were overlapping or crammed, but just touching, the lines of their legs melting into one, their shoulders connected by some static friction. He tilted his head back, resting it against the top of the upholstered banquette.

The combination of torches and overhead lamps made for a warm, yellow glow within the room. The only sounds were that of the flickering torches, and that of their breaths; somehow, he found himself breathing in sync with hers, their chests rising and falling together. Her hands were limp, devoid of movement; the backs of her hands were placed on her lap, her fingers facing upward; every now and then, the tips of her fingers trembled slightly. Finally, she spoke.

"I'm sorry."

"For what? You don't have anything to be sorry for."

"I killed someone." She shifted in her seat so that she faced him, although their gazes still did not meet. "Back when you were in Atlas. Someone tried to assassinate me in my bedroom. I'm sorry, it caught me so off-guard, I just—"

She stopped when he placed a finger on her lips, silencing her; her lips were soft to the touch. She leaned backward onto the arm of the settee; he followed, closing the distance between their torsos, as he placed himself atop her lap, his legs on both sides of hers. His hands wandered around her torso, one settling on the dip in her shoulder blade, the other one resting on the small of her back. He felt her shiver when he gently drummed his fingers in the shallow curve, the line that ran down her back. He could feel her rapid heartbeat, just as he was sure she could feel his.

"Don't worry. It's okay. It wasn't your fault. No one would blame you, and I won't either. You were in danger—you did what you could."

"But—"

He drew her into his chest, silencing her protests. With one hand placed on the back of her head, the other on one of her shoulder blades, he reveled in the warmth they provided each other, and the allure of her scent. She tried to push him away, but he kept a firm hold on her. Eventually, she relented, allowing him to fully draw her into the embrace. Her breaths came in short gasps, and he felt hot tears touch his skin; they had soaked through the gossamer fabric of his robes.

Somehow, for a fraction of a second, Annabeth replaced Pyrrha. At first, the shift was negligible. He couldn't help but gauge the similarities. They were almost the same height. But he could recall it vividly. That moment when he was comforting Annabeth about the prophecy in the Athena Cabin, at Camp Half-Blood. Scarlet hair turned blonde, and emerald green eyes turned stormy gray. Even her scent changed, from cherries to that lemon shampoo.

"Hey, Seaweed Brain! Missed me?" At those words, his breath caught in his throat, and he almost dared to move to look at her, some part of him hoping that it really was her in his arms. Once he did, it all changed back. Pyrrha Nikos was in his arms once more. It was a glimpse of what it was, what it could have been.

Still, his hold on her tightened, unrelenting, signifying that he wasn't going to let go anytime soon. Their combined weight dipped the cushions of the banquette. The fingers on his right hand tangled themselves in her locks of hair—they were incredibly smooth and pleasant to the touch, like the velvet texture of the sofa. Leaning his head down somewhat, he pressed his lips to the crown of her head.

"It's okay," he murmured, his lips brushing against her tresses. "Cry all you want; I'll be here for you. I'm just glad you're fine."

"…I'm right here, Percy."

Sensing that she was alright now, he let himself go. He squeezed his eyes shut as he held her in a gentle embrace, enfolding her body into his. Trembling, he tried to process the words she had uttered; she had almost been killed by an assassin. He couldn't believe he had almost lost her. He'd lost everyone he cared about already on Earth—including Annabeth. He still remembered her; even in Pyrrha's embrace. Now, on Remnant, he wouldn't let it happen to the friendships and bonds he'd built. Never again, he swore.

"I almost lost you, Pyrrha. And I didn't even know." His tone alerted her of his weakness—she wasn't meant to hear it, but she did anyway, in the shuddering words he spoke. He felt her move against him, offering him some warmth of her own.

"I'm sorry, Percy," she mumbled, her voice muffled by the fabric of his robes. "I'm sorry."

They sat like that for a while, in that fragile silence, losing track of time—it was minutes, maybe even hours. And even though there had been an attempt on Pyrrha's life by an assassin and a near-death experience during the Battle of Shion… In his mind's eye, Pyrrha's image flickered into Annabeth's once more. Her cherry scent changed into that lemon shampoo that Annabeth used. He knew it was just a hallucination. He knew that it was wrong, but he couldn't help it. And despite how desperately he wanted to move on, to forget his Wise Girl, he couldn't. It wasn't something he could push away. If he could only offer Pyrrha a part of his heart, what good was that? At how things stood, he was being unfair and selfish. That meant…

"You still love her. Annabeth. You haven't moved on." It wasn't a question, only a statement. She could tell; somehow, she knew. Perhaps she had felt it in their embrace. He swallowed but didn't reply. For her, the silence was answer enough. He felt her begin to move away, and he shifted himself off her lap, granting her space, as she faced him, finally meeting his gaze. One hand remained tangled in his raven-black tresses, the other falling to her lap. There were slight traces of red, in the corners of her eyes, indicating that she had been crying. Even now, her deep wells of emerald green were glistening with tears, perhaps even more.

They overflowed onto her cheeks, falling down and off her chin onto the fabric of the banquette. She did nothing to stop them. He wished more than anything that he could comfort her, but this had been caused entirely by him. He retracted his hands, resisting the overwhelming urge to touch her, to console her. She shut her eyes, cutting off the tears, though some remained on her lashes.

"…Am I a replacement?"

"No, Pyrrha, you're not."

But even now, he saw and felt Annabeth.

Ashamed, he averted his gaze to his lap. He found himself drawing a long breath, his chest involuntarily shuddering; he couldn't bear the thought of hurting her, but here he was, doing just that. He thought he was fine. That he had moved on. But even as he tried to fall for her warmth, her touch… Annabeth remained entrenched in his mind's gaze. How she had said he drooled when he woke up that first day at Camp Half-Blood. How she always had his back when he needed it, when he was at his best or at his worst, how she was always level-headed. How they went to hell and back together. How he felt her lingering touch in the innermost parts of his chest. How she had saved him from the River Styx's clutches in that crucial moment to gain the Curse of Achilles. How she called him Seaweed Brain. That bond was unbreakable.

He forcefully closed his eyes. But it wasn't the bond between Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase; this was a bond between him and the memories of her, which continued to hold an unyielding grip on his heart. He was still thinking of the way that it was, that it had been. But Annabeth was gone. That part he understood perfectly well. He had to accept that when she had passed away, some part of him did, too.

A slender finger reached his chin, tilting it upward so that her viridescent eyes peered into his aquamarine ones, regarding him.

"Tell me, Percy, for our sake…" she began, her voice quivering, despite how she tried her best to hide it, "Do you love me?"

No, it wasn't just the way he felt her warm breath tickling his cheeks, their lips so near that he began to hallucinate her very touch, or the way her carmine bangs flitted back and forth gently, then paused on her cheekbones, or the way he yearned to rest on her patient lips, to share his passion with her, or the way her long hair fit her perfectly but she could pull off short hair, or how loving her pink lips looked, or how ethereal her eyes looked. No, it wasn't just that.

He admired her soul, too. That independence and strength, her unwavering resolve and pride to become a huntress, that same resolve that had rejected fate and destiny, just like he had wanted to do all those years ago. She was so gentle and kind that he genuinely believed that she was the type of person to gather up an injured butterfly and try to help it. She was logical-minded while considering the feelings of others and approached everything with caution and honesty. The way he felt like he was more whenever he was hers. She completed him in a way wholly distinct from Annabeth.

Yes, they had only shared a kiss, but that left no doubt in his heart. He wasn't just going through the motions of loving her—he did love her.

"I do," he conveyed firmly, gazing deep into those beautiful emerald orbs of hers, "I love you, Pyrrha."

"And yet you still love her." Her accusation—no, statement—struck deep. Stung, he glanced away again, unable to bear the weight of her gaze. That was right. He loved her, but the question remained if she did, too. He was jaded, a shell of his former self; even now, he was scattered. It was clear to both of them: Annabeth would forever hold a place in his heart. He knew that it was selfish of him to offer Pyrrha what remained of his love; he couldn't be so conceited as to demand that she love him. It was unfair to her; she deserved better than that. Someone more dependable could probably come along and love her much better and make her much happier than he could. That was why, if she refused, he had no reason but to wholly accept it. Even if she was everything he wanted. Even if it hurt him, tore his heart in two.

Even if he loved her.

Having finally made up his mind, Percy raised his head, examining her. She was still, her own gaze fixed on her lap as if she were forming her thoughts, even now. In the lingering quietude, he became acutely aware of her, his mind fixing every detail of her: her smooth fingers absentmindedly tangled in his locks, her lashes shading her eyes, the warm light of the lamp illuminating half of her face in a dreamy orange, the other half shrouded in soft darkness. The pallor of her skin was stained with the moisture of tears. He wanted so badly to reach his hands out and wipe away those tears, but he refrained from doing so, for the fear of hurting her even more. How their breaths intermingled and mixed in the cool air of the room. The way her hair splayed across the banquette like it was floating. Like an angel.

But he knew what he had to do.

"Pyrrha, I'm sorry." The next words caught in his throat. They wouldn't come out, no matter how he tried.

"I won't make you forget about her," the words were whispered so quietly, so softly, that he almost didn't catch them, even in the silence of the room, "Of course I'd rather have you to myself. But…" she drew a breath, mustering the strength to meet his eyes. His breath lulled.

"So long as a piece of your heart belongs to me…" a wry smile graced her lips, a bittersweet look in her eyes, "I'll gift you with all of mine."

Stunned by the sincerity of her words, Percy blinked a few times, processing them. "…You… mean that?"

"Yes." Then, as if to confirm her statement, she leaned forward, briefly capturing his lips with her own soft ones. A tint of red appeared on his cheeks at the motion, and he glanced away briefly.

"It may be a bigger piece than you think, Pyrrha." That seemed to please her, as she giggled, that beautiful, tinkling sound of laughter that poured forth from her lips.

"Over time, I'll claim more and more of that heart of yours." The strength of her words accurately conveyed her sentiment, and smiling, she leaned in to kiss him again. He parted his lips to grant her tasting tongue access, and their bodies enveloped each other, curves and contours fitting together once more, in that way that was right. And unlike before, it was Pyrrha Nikos instead of Annabeth Chase. It was her, that unique aroma and feel, rather than a phantom of the past. Their kiss deepened, a mingling of passion and tenderness as if they were trying to convey all the emotions they couldn't put into words. He lost himself in the moment—the pleasant weight of her body intertwined with his, the subtle swell of her chest, and the feeling of her arms wrapped around his shoulders. They separated momentarily to catch their breath, breaking the kiss. His right hand trailed across the diaphanous fabric of her robes. He saw nothing, nobody, except her.

"Thank you, Pyrrha."

"You can thank me more in a different way." Both of them knew what she was referring to as she began leaning in to meet his lips once again, but much to both of their chagrins, he interrupted her.

"We should discuss other things, too. About the assassin." A somewhat hurtful look appeared in her eyes temporarily, but it was gone as quickly as it had come, and she nodded understandingly. Then, she pulled back. Her breaths were slower and more controlled, now; she had regained her composure. In front of him was a well-constructed facade, carried by Pyrrha Nikos, winner of numerous tournaments, a huntress, and Heir Apparent to the Nikos Family.

"I think they were a hybrid—a half-Grimm, half-human. He just snuck past the guards and broke in. Later, I trained in the forest and realized something: the Grimm," she looked at him, the intentness in her stare conveying the importance of her next words. "They were grouping, an alpha directing them in basic battle formations."

Battle formations? Even a group leader? Packs of intelligent, evolved Grimm would prove to be difficult for average huntsmen to take care of. Even more importantly, they didn't have any freelancer huntsmen left in Mistral; all that remained were huntsmen from the military and students from Haven Academy.

"That's… not good."

Pyrrha let out an exhale of amusement. "Right."

Salem was making her move. He was sure of it. If the information Neo and Mercury provided him wasn't enough, this only further confirmed his suspicions: Salem was in Mistral. The Grimm wouldn't behave this way if she wasn't.

"I'll see what I can do about it for classes at Haven Academy." If he could get Lionheart to meet with his professors and begin implementing more tactics-based classes that stressed the importance of teamwork, then the students at Haven would be more prepared.

"There's one more thing," Pyrrha spoke solemnly, drawing his eyes back to her. "Salem is immortal. But not the kind that you've fought before. She possesses instant regeneration, and wields a magic unseen before, beyond the reach of semblances."

"I… see." An immortal magic user, with nigh-infinite regeneration. If the flesh was regenerated out of thin air, it would require him to incinerate her until no cells were left for her to regenerate from. However, if the flesh was regenerated from Grimm flesh, then he would need to cut the power off at the source—perhaps Erebus' own, original source from which the Grimm rose. However…

"Then I have one thing, as well," he swallowed, preparing for his next words and her subsequent reaction. "I'm becoming a god, Pyrrha."

With bated breath, he waited for her response. Her eyes flitted down briefly, then back up.

"You mean…the type that you fought in the past, right? The Greco-Roman pantheon?"

"Something like that."

She paused. "That's good. You may be able to rival Salem, then." She hesitated again. "Does that mean… you'll become immortal?"

He didn't know the answer to that question. On Earth, although the gods had offered to make him immortal, he didn't know if this ascension contained the same concept. The root of his ascension was the worship and reverence that he received from Mistral as its sea and sky deity. But that didn't necessarily mean that he would be immortal, although it was likely. With no other option other than to tell her the truth, he did so.

"I don't know. It's possible."

Pyrrha frowned, and he resisted the urge to draw her into his embrace once again. "In any case, I don't think it's something we should worry about right now."

He had to eliminate Salem and her influence from Mistral—erase her existence. By any means possible.

His mind became distracted as he swept his gaze over her right shoulder and collarbone. Was that a xiphos—his mark? What was it doing on her collarbone? As he leaned closer to inspect it, his warm breath dipped into the hollow of her clavicle, causing her to notice his look.

"The mark appeared to me in the middle of battle during the fight, during the most dire moment," she offered. "It seared itself on my skin; I don't think it's removable. Do you know what it is?" She was awfully calm for someone who had just received what was essentially a small tattoo.

"I have an inkling. Do you know if it did anything?"

"I think it increased my maiden powers." Curious, he moved closer, the couch once again dipping under their combined weight. It was a bloodred xiphos crossed against a golden shield. "May I?"

"Yes." Gently, he pressed the pad of his index finger to her soft skin, sweeping his finger across the mark. It wasn't engraved—the skin didn't dip or raise; it seemed like it was a part of the skin. The mark seemed to hum at his touch, and she suppressed a shudder.

Was this his blessing? He was sure it was. Otherwise, it wouldn't have appeared on her in the middle of battle. According to Pyrrha, it had been in the most dire moment. He hadn't intentionally placed a blessing on her without his permission; it must have flared up when it sensed her in danger.

But there was more to it. It seemed more powerful than a blessing, more thorough, more fluid. That left no doubt in his mind; he could feel the connection. The way her skin seemed to vibrate at that spot when he brushed it, while his finger pad tingled, the way a string seemed to connect them, even more than before. It reminded him of the tethered rope that had saved him from the River Styx.

She was his Champion.


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Next Chapter: June 15th

-thann