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The Battle for Beacon is tomorrow.
They have gathered in the ballroom to make their last stand. Every minute summons another Grimm to join the horde waiting outside. They may be Huntsmen and Huntresses, defenders of the realm, but they are mortal. Sleep calls to wearied and injured limbs. Teams from Mistral talk quietly with their allies from Atlas. Students from Vale comfort injured students of Vacuo.
They may come from different kingdoms, they may be Faunus or human, but when dawn breaks tomorrow, they will make their last stand together.
Jaune can faintly pick up the sound of gunfire from the roof. Team RWBY and NDGO are on watch: some of the Grimm must have grown bold, feeding on the despair broiling inside the ballroom.
Howls cut through the uneasy burble. The tell tale click and bang of shotgun gauntlets silences them.
Jaune sets down the bottle of polish and sheathes Crocea Mors. His team is camped near the entrance to the ballroom. With two shield users, one potent Aura user and a grenadier, they will be the last line of defense for students fleeing the Grimm. If they fall, Beacon falls.
Ren sits in the lotus position beside him, a hand running through the locks of the Valkyrie prone in his lap. Nora's fingers weave his ponytail into a neat plait over and over again.
“Pyrrha’s been away for a while,” Nora says. Her eyes are focused on her partner, as if he roots her to the world.
“She’s with Professor Ozpin and Goodwitch.” Ren strokes Nora’s cheek. His fingers linger above her lips. “She’ll be fine.”
“She hasn’t been herself. They won’t punish her, right?” Nora shifts on Ren’s lap, the pink of her irises dimming. “It wasn’t her fault. How could she have–“
“Even if she isn’t okay, we’ve got her back.” Jaune scans the room – where is his red-headed partner? There are so many things he has left to say, on what could be the last night of their lives. Sorry. I hurt you. You’re the best partner I could ever have.
Ren presses a kiss to Nora’s cheek. “They’ll understand. Don’t worry about it, Nora.”
“Hello again.” Pyrrha’s voice is noticeably strained. She staggers into the ballroom – a particularly heavy step nearly sends her tumbling to the ground, but Jaune steadies her. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“Pyrrha!” Nora leaps from the ground and throws her arms around the Spartan. The color returns to his exuberant friend’s eyes. “We missed you!”
“And I, you.” Pyrrha smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Something’s wrong about the way she holds herself: the regal grace of a lioness stalking her prey has faded. Jaune thinks she looks like a ghost in a shell, as if some spirit was manipulating a flesh puppet. “Did you save me some… um… Grimm?”
“I call the biggest Ursa.” Nora’s grin widens, but like Pyrrha’s, it seems forced at the edges. “Ren, I’m finally going to sell those Ursa skin rugs! We’ll be rich! We’ll be famous! We can buy a home for ourselves!”
Ren clucks his tongue and pulls his partner off Pyrrha. “It’s okay, Nora.” His voice grows softer as he holds her. Whatever he says, it’s enough to bring a wine-red blush to Nora’s cheeks and a small, sincere smile.
Pyrrha sits down next to Jaune. She leans heavily against her shield.
“The plan?” she asks.
“We hold the line. Nora’s up there.” He points to a stack of tables beside the doorway. “She’ll provide heavy support. Ren’s our medic. He’ll grab the injured. You and me, we’re the shields. No one gets past us.”
She nods, and lapses into silence. The duo watch Ren and Nora cuddle. Is it just a trick of the candlelight, or are Pyrrha’s eyes golden instead of green?
“I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling a bit like a third wheel,” he says lightly. Something takes wing inside his stomach, sending quivers down his limbs. “You wanna give them some space?”
When Pyrrha speaks, her voice is not her own. It rumbles, as if a legion of women speak behind her.
“There’s a battle at dawn. My place is here. I will not fall again.”
She recoils – and suddenly, her bright green eyes seem to clear. Her gloved hands immediately go to her face.
“I’m sorry!”
Jaune tries not to stare at her. He offers her his hand, but Pyrrha’s remain glued to her face.
“Pyrrha. Just a few seconds?” Jaune holds out both of his hands, as if to receive a blessing. “You and me, together. Let’s have a chat between friends.”
Her hands slowly drop, sliding down her corset as if to reassure herself that she is whole.
“Y-yes. I’d like that.” Her hand slips into his own. Jaune’s heart flitters, like a bird taking wing, as Pyrrha offers him a shy smile. “Well, leader. Where to?”
He would have said the balcony, where they talked during the dance, but Ruby has claimed the spot as her sniper perch. Besides, it would leave them open to attack.
“I’m sure we’ll find somewhere,” Jaune says as he leads them out of the ballroom.
The school is deathly silent. Professor Goodwitch’s spells hang over the windows, repelling the few brave Grimm that dare attack. Jaune knows there are a few guards stationed throughout the school – most are clustered in the dorms to protect the civilians – but the cheerful clutter of students is gone. In its place is the grim silence of soldiers readying for war.
“Here.” Pyrrha points to a classroom.
“It’s probably locked.”
Pyrrha’s hand glows black as her Aura encases it – is that just a trick of the moonlight, or is there lightning boiling within her palm?
The doorknob turns. His partner pushes lightly, and the door swings open.
“I never knew you were such a rule breaker,” Jaune says with a small smile.
She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear as she drags him into the classroom. The door swings behind them and locks shut.
“I… well… I wanted some privacy.”
He hums in response, looking his partner over. There are two new pinpricks on the slender column of her neck, like a snakebite. Something about her seems older, artificially aged, as if time sped up for her alone.
Jaune looks up. “Oh, no. Pyrrha, I’m so sorry,” he says, wrapping his arms around her form. Hot tears splash down his neck. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“It’s fine,” she whispers. “You couldn’t have known.”
“Known what?” He rubs the pad of his thumb in circles into the small of her back. Jaune doesn’t know if she can feel it past her armor, but he thinks it should help. “Tell me, partner. What can I do for you?”
Pyrrha shakes her head. She buries her face in the crook of her neck. He can feel patches of harder skin crisscrossing her cheeks. It feels like an eternity since he was four, and dared to touch the campfire. Those burns have faded, but he still remembers how they felt. Where did she get those scars?
“I’m not supposed to tell anyone…”
“Whatever you decide, Pyrrha, I’ve got your back.” He grunts as she squeezes him. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. Come on. Let’s sit down.”
She plops onto a desk, eyes barely meeting his own. Jaune sits beside her, barely stirring when she lays her head on his shoulder.
"I don’t deserve this,” she says. “I’m… you saw… what happened to Penny…“
“You had my back, even… when… well, when you found out. You’ve helped me all this time.” Jaune might be going too far, but he tilts her chin up until her tear-sodden eyes look into his own. No, it’s not just his imagination: there are golden streaks within their emerald depths. “Pyrrha, I don’t care what happened out there. You’re my friend. I trust you.”
She shudders.
“I’m losing my mind.” Pyrrha clasps his hands, as if to reassure herself that he is real. He squeezes back. “During the fight… I saw thousands of swords. When… it ended, she was lying on the floor. And now… it’s like I’m two different people, fighting for one body.”
“You’re Pyrrha Nikos. You’re my partner.” Something is soaring within his chest, a heady feeling shouting at him that there is more to his friend than he thinks–
The wind rattles the classroom’s windows. A Nevermore shrieks outside.
Pyrrha’s eyes turn hazel-gold. She drops his hand – almost shoves him away – and her spear jumps into her hand.
“Where am I?” Her head turns, searching the classroom. “Where are they? The Grimm. It took my power–“
“Pyrrha? You’re not making any sense.”
Milo’s point presses against his throat.
“You. Are you with them? The woman in the red dress. Is this another one of her tricks, to bring down my guard? Is she controlling you too?”
“Pyrrha,” he whispers, trying to keep away from the blade. “It’s your partner.”
The single word sends Milo’s point slicing into his skin. Blood trickles down his neck.
Jaune carefully raises his hands. “Pyrrha. I don’t know what’s happening. But I know you’re in there.”
He carefully works a finger beneath the blade, and touches the cut. It’s not deep, but his finger comes away painted with blood. His Aura flares up at last, and seals the wound.
The bright flash of his Aura sends the gold of Pyrrha’s eyes into retreat. She shakes her head, takes one good look at his bloodied fingers, and bursts into tears.
“I’m sorry,” she moans, rocking back and forth. “I… she’s so hard to control–“
Two people, in one body. Her words come rushing back.
“Um, mind if I ask what happened to the other person?” Pyrrha flinches. “Maybe I can talk to her,” Jaune rushes on, “convince her not to hurt you.”
Pyrrha takes a deep, shuddering breath. She stills long enough for Jaune to put an arm around her shoulders.
“She’s so confused.” Pyrrha runs her hands through her hair. “She… she was hurt quite badly, and she fled to me. But she doesn’t understand why she’s not… not her. All she can remember is the day she was injured.”
Jaune doesn’t say a word.
“It must be terrible,” she murmurs. “To one day, have everything you dreamed of, and to lose it all the next day.”
“Hey…” Jaune runs his fingers through locks of autumn-red hair, combing them back into Pyrrha’s ponytail. Pyrrha leans back and closes her eyes. “She might have lost a lot. But she’s got you. And me. And Ren, and Nora, and we’re going to make it all right. You hear me, partner?”
A half-smile flits across her face.
“I love you.”
He has to be dreaming. She must be dreaming. There’s no way Pyrrha Nikos could mean that about him – he’s dragging the team behind, he’s taking up her time, she’s his best friend! He’s going to fuck up – he’s going to mess up their relationship, and ruin everything they’ve built. Damn it. He wanted a new start at Beacon. He could’ve give her that new start she craved as well.
“Jaune?”
“Yes?” he squeaks.
He has seen the smile before – the pure delight when he walked out onto the dance floor, clad in a floaty white dress. “I really do like you.”
Jaune says something intelligent like, “uhhhhh…”
Her smile falls. Guilt stabs through him, killing the fluttering in his chest.
“You… don’t…?”
“It’s… it’s a lot to take in…” He runs a hand through his hair. Pyrrha slumps beside him. “Why… why me? Don’t you deserve someone better–“
Pyrrha fixes him with a piercing glare. “Jaune Arc. Do not presume to make my choices.” Her gaze softens. “Remember, at the dance…? I wanted someone who saw me for who I was. I guess you’re that kind of guy I wish I could have.”
He turns away. He can’t bear to hurt her like this.
“I’m… guessing you don’t feel the same way…”
He takes a deep breath, and turns back to her.
“Pyrrha. You’re my best friend.” She seems to melt in place, but he lays a hand on her bare thigh. “I’m… this is all so sudden. I don’t know how I feel.”
His partner nods. “It’s okay. I understand if you prefer Weiss.”
“It’s not about Weiss. I… I just never considered that you might like me.” He lets out a shaky laugh. “Like a dream come true,” he says more to himself.
Pyrrha is quiet. The Grimm howl and bark outside.
“Could we… could we pretend for tonight?” she asks. “It’ll be only a few minutes.”
“Um, Pyrrha? I don’t think I have to pretend to love you.” Her eyes light up. “I mean, as a friend, yeah.” The light dims. “As a… a boyfriend-girlfriend thing? Never thought I’d say that. Maybe… after we survive this, we could try. Just a warning, I've never been good at those things. I-I mean, just look at how long it took me to notice you!”
She nods and settles on her desk. “Well, maybe we could do a test?”
“Aw, man,” he says lightly. “You know I’m not good at those. Right before a battle too?”
That startles a laugh out of his partner. “It’ll be quick. Five points, no more, no less,” she promises.
“Fine,” he says, crossing his arms with an exaggerated sigh. “Go on then. Teach me, professor.”
Pyrrha smiles and tilts his chin up. She’s so close: he can see the slight smatter of freckles across her cheeks, the new crow’s feet beneath her eyes. Her breath is soft and hot on his skin. Her left cheek has a slight dimple when she smiles. The whorls of her fingertips press against his Adam’s apple, robbing him of his breath. The emeralds in her headdress sent green flecks of light dancing over her forehead. She belongs in a forest, a nymph of the old legends, dancing beneath the waxing moon.
Jaune thinks this is how goddesses are created: some poor, mortal soul sees the faults and perfections, and chooses to look past. They'll fall to their knees and swear on their swords to worship a woman like this.
He might be that poor, mortal soul.
“On a scale of one being the worst and five the best, how’s this?” she asks, and kisses him.