Chapter Text
Do not go gentle into that good night,
old age should burn and rave at close of day
rage, rage against the dying of the light.
though wise men at their end know dark is right,
because their words had forked no lightning
they
do not go gentle into that good night.
— Dylan Thomas
Blake
Fire.
The flame, the burning, the scorch. Blistering heat was all she knew. All she heard, felt, sensed… it consumed her vision, consumed her reality; this place was all that existed, truly. Fire raged around her, an ocean of boiling flame. Smoke curled into the air, choking her throat, burning burning burning…
She found herself on a circle of grass that had not yet caught fire, coughing horribly as the flames swirled around her in paradoxically beautiful colors of orange, gold, scarlet. And beauty, she knew, could often kill.
“Help!” she yowled desperately, her voice caught in the gaping maw of the fire, scarcely knowing to whom she was calling for. The fire lapped hungrily at her exposed skin, and she shrank back. “Help me!”
Suddenly, the molten flames parted like liquid.
Through streaming eyes, she looked up. Her call had been answered— a figure was sauntering towards her through the smoke, coming forth, eyes glowing like embers. Jade green eyes with rims of amber, like the light of the sun was trapped in their depths…
She realized who it was just as he stopped in front of her, sneering down as she crouched, helpless, on the grass. Behind her was the fire. Before her was a man who was crueler than any storm of nature, because nature had made it so. His baleful, pale gaze was fixed on her, and the leaping flames danced inside of it. Once, she would have been defiant; now, she only saw the bloody light of the burning forest reflected in his eyes.
“Ayran,” she tried to say, but the words caught in her throat, coming out silently as smoke. For the first time in her life, her fear overwhelmed her need to survive, and she didn’t attempt to flee as he drew back his lips and snarled down at her.
“Blake,” he said with a terrible smile. “Look at you, my pet, trapped in the very fire that once warmed you, and now has turned on you. But it matters not, of course… You didn’t even feel guilty when you killed me, did you? No tears for your leader, for who made you what you are. You, the third defector— you will never escape me, not even in death.” He leaned closer, and she looked in horror at his face, pitted and scarred like the dark side of the moon, a cruel, gleeful grin curling his mouth. “You have never escaped, child of nightshade. And you never will, not as long as you live; your luck, finally, has forsaken you.”
She coughed, nearly blinded now by the smoke. “No,” she rasped hoarsely. “No…”
His face shuddered, shifted and changed— now it was Brian’s face, looking at her in sadness, now it was Khione’s, watching her with disappointment, and then, finally, it was Adam’s, his scarred eyes gazing upon her brightly with mirth. “You are mine, now and forever,” he said, and his voice echoed with all the voices she knew and feared: Torchwick, Ayran, her father, enemies back for years and years. It was barely audible over the fire, before it roared, louder and louder until it was all she could hear. She screwed up her eyes tightly, straining to not be blown away by the firestorm’s force battering her from all sides. “You are mine, Blake!”
Blake opened open one eye with sigh of weariness as a happy yell intruded into her consciousness, ripping her away from the last threading fragments of her nightmare. She blinked, wondering for a heartbeat where she was, before she remembered: she and her team were residing at Ruby and Yang’s home on the island of Patch before the tournament. It was good in some ways - Blake's nightmares had been absent for days, excluding this latest one with Ayran’s fire - and bad in others - Ruby always served as a makeshift alarm clock, waking up at ungodly hours and forcing her other teammates up before the sun had even peeked above the horizon. They were all feeling the strain that was due with the upcoming tournament, and sparring matches had gotten ever longer while sleep was harder to come by. Ruby and Yang's father had risen to the occasion of making Blake and Weiss feel at home magnificently, and Blake got the feeling he was remembering his own days at Beacon whenever he dropped by to see their team sparring.
On the opposite side of the guest room, Weiss was still slumbering peacefully; apparently Ruby had launched her tirade of waking people up against Blake first. The leader was bouncing over her, grinning in an almost manic-fashion; clearly, being back home at Patch had revitalized her enough to give her triple the amount of energy she usually possessed. The mere prospect alone was terrifying.
“Go away,” Blake groaned, pulling a pillow over her head in a futile attempt to ward her off. “Let me sleep, Ruby— hey, quit that!” She protested as Ruby snatched the pillow and whopped her over the head with it, before drawing back for another strike. Blake yelped as it descended once more, hitting her with a thwoomp. “Yang!” she shouted, ducking another blow. “Get in here! Your sister is terrorizing me!”
A few moments later, yawning, Yang poked her head in the guest bedroom, blinking in the early morning light. “Jesus, can't I ever wake up without someone bellowing in my ear?” she grumbled, before blinking as she saw what was going on. To Blake's horror, a devilish grin unfurled across her features, immediately killing Blake's hope that she would come rescue her from the pillow-wielding Ruby. “Keep at it, Ruby,” she said cheerfully. “That’s the only way you’ll get her out of bed.”
Blake gave her a dirty look before dodging another pillow-strike and ducking out of the bed with a grumble. Ruby instantly bounced away, beelining for Weiss, and Blake couldn’t help but roll her eyes as Weiss— without even opening an eye or giving any sign that she was awake— growled in a soft, deadly voice: “Don’t you dare even think about hitting me with that pillow, Ruby Rose. If you do, we will be going into the tournament as team WBY, and that's a promise.”
Ruby stopped short, clearly daunted by the formidability in Weiss’s tone. “Do you mean that?”
Weiss’s eyes opened. “Wholeheartedly,” she snapped, “and I still haven’t forgotten how you blew a whistle in my ear on the first day of school, so don’t make a repeat of it, got it?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Ruby said meekly, bowing and trotting out of the room. Her parting call echoed down the short hallway. “Dad’s making pancakes, so hurry up, you guys, or you’ll be stuck with pan-scrapings!”
Blake yawned widely, sinking back onto the narrow guest-bed, before grinning crookedly at Weiss. “Team Wooby?” she said, and Weiss gave a her an irritable glance.
“Oh, be quiet, Blake. It’s early; I’m not up for wordplay. Also, I’d advise fixing your hair before you leave the room, because Ruby— well, the pillow-hitting thing just now didn’t do any wonders for it.”
“Can’t you control your partner?” Blake grumbled, and Weiss rolled her eyes.
“Can you control yours? I think not.”
Blake cursed under her breath before seizing her clothes and heading to the bathroom with another jaw-cracking yawn. The house wasn’t anything particularly fancy— just a one-story log building with dusty square windows and three bedrooms; but Blake liked it for that, it gave it character, and she knew Yang, nor her family, wasn’t the type to try and impress. What you saw was what you got, and Blake was plenty satisfied with it.
She took a swift shower and changed into her regular outfit. Just as she had pulled on her boots, and was standing to run her hands under the tap, the door swung open and Yang walked in, yawning. She caught Blake with her hands resting on her hips, spinning her around and nuzzling her head against her shoulder. She looked at her in the mirror with a sleep-soft smile, burying her face in the crook of Blake's neck and knotting her hands in her gear. “Morning, babe.”
One of Blake’s eyebrows arched. “Since when do you call me that? Is this the new name in a long list of pet-names? I'll have to stop you right there.”
“I was trying it out. No?”
“I prefer my name much more.”
Yang grinned at her. “I could’ve called you something really awful, like sugar-pie snookums, or something, but I didn’t, how’s that for you?”
Blake kissed her cheek. “Thank you, then. For that, I am eternally grateful.”
Yang spun away, releasing Blake, and out the door. “Come on, Dad’s making pancakes, and they’re the best. Well, for your taste buds. I bet Weiss - you know she's always eating diet and light products - the mere prospect of sugar will send her into an apoplectic fit.”
“Now, now. I'm sure it won't be that dramatic.” Blake shut off the faucet, watching the last of the water swirl down the drain, before she turned to Yang. “Well, shall we go see this match? Weiss vs. pancakes and Taiyang?”
Yang hooked her arm through Blake’s elbow with a laugh. “I don’t think that’s gonna turn out well for anyone.”
Blake watched in amusement as Taiyang let out a ‘heads-up!’, before jerking back his arm with a lightning-quick movement, flipping a golden-brown pancake expertly over his shoulder. Ruby instantly whipped her plate out, catching it as it fell; she did it with a practiced ease that suggested that this was a regular activity in the Rose-Xiao-Long household.
“Ouch,” Yang said, as he repeated the gesture on Weiss with less fortunate results. Ruby burst out in laughter before hurrying over to scrape pancake off the wall. “That's gonna leave a mark.”
“Watch out!”
Blake looked up quickly as Weiss’s alarmed cry cut into their conversation; her eyes widened as she saw that a pancake was now hurtling towards her. Blake lifted a hand, and the pancake hit her palm before sliding off, onto her plate. Ruby watched her with wide silver eyes before breaking into applause at the seemingly effortless show of deflection.
“And that,” Yang said to her father, who had let out a wolf-whistle, “is why she’s called the ninja of our team.”
He rolled his eyes at his daughter before turning back to the sizzling oven, flipping six pancakes in a neat row over on their sides. As Weiss and Ruby got into an argument about the tournament, Yang used the distraction to lean over to Blake, unheard.
“I don’t want to alarm you,” Yang whispered out of the corner of her mouth, “but I think Dad wants to talk to you.”
Blake glanced at her, startled. “Me? Why?”
“You read a lot of books, you should know this! All parents talk to their kid’s significant other, brainless. Besides—” She shot a furtive glance around them and lowered her voice so Blake could hardly hear her. “It’s not your fault at all and it’s totally dumb, believe me, but I think you remind him of Raven a little, and he’s worried.”
Blake set her fork down, feeling her appetite drain away like water swirling down a sink. She had a good idea of the answer to the question she was about to ask, but something sick in her dared her to ask it anyways, just to see if she could handle it. “Why would I remind him of Raven?”
Yang’s eyes were somber. “Raven was his partner, and she ran off on him soon after they married. You’ve run off on us, too, even if it is in the past now, and you almost resemble her a bit, with the way you look; I mean, I can’t deny that there are some similarities, even if I disagree with him, because I do… I mean, God, Blake. He’s never in his right mind when it comes to her, and neither am I. She broke his heart.”
Blake stared down at her hands, not seeing them. It’s true, I have run off before, but… it wasn’t my fault. I was scared, there were so many reasons… how can he think that I would be so cruel? So… like how I used to be… killing without question, in the name of goodness, abandoning everything…
“Hey, are you okay?” Yang nudged her. “Look, I’m sorry. Forget it. I shouldn’t have brought it up—”
“It’s all right,” Blake said, giving her a timid smile, though churning dread still swirled in her gut. “Don’t worry about it. Really, I should have expected this.” Yang looked hurt at the hint of bitterness in her voice, and Blake flinched as she felt a pang of disappointment flicker through their Bond. What did she expect? How is one supposed to take the news that they’re supposedly set on course to become just as reckless a person as their predecessor lightly?
But she found, as the morning bled into the afternoon, her good mood had vanished, replaced by a cold worry in her heart.
“Come on, guys! Let’s go spar to get ready for tomorrow!”
Ruby skipped out of the room, snatching Crescent Rose off a holder on the wall; Weiss followed closely after her, and Blake slid off her seat as Yang trounced to the door. They both stopped as Taiyang cleared his throat hesitantly, and turned around, his eyes on Blake. They were cloudy as a storm; Blake doubted he was even seeing her at all. Oh, here we go…
He looked to his daughter. There always seemed to be a lingering sorrow present on his face, a sadness, like he worried that no matter what he did, it would always, always be wrong. “Yang, can you wait outside for a moment, please? I’d like to talk to Blake, if you wouldn’t mind.”
Yang gave her a look of dread, as if she were saying, what did I tell you?, before she smiled. “Sure, Dad,” she replied quietly, and trotted out the door. It slammed shut, leaving them alone. Blake met Taiyang’s gaze evenly, though the sorrow there made her pity him even more.
“I will make this brief,” he said, echoing the words of Ozpin, many months ago. “My daughter is intelligent. She’s probably told you why I want to talk to you. But firstly, I would like to let you know that it sets my heart at ease to see the four of you. You possess a unity that my team did not gain until nearly two years of forced cooperation— and even then, it was an uneasy peace. This is not entirely a warning, and I’d like to thank you for keeping a curb on her… doubtlessly she and Ruby would have gotten into entirely more escapades than they did, were it not for yours and Weiss’s guidance.” He gave a half-smile, though it didn’t reach his weary eyes.
She felt her ear flick with anxiety, making her bow ripple with the movement. “She’s certainly got a lot of energy, yes.”
His eyes studied her. They were strikingly similar to his daughters: open, bright, honest. And with that same faint - almost undetectable - undercurrent of long-held sorrow. “How are you finding Beacon? The first year is always the hardest.”
“It’s been strange,” she replied honestly, “considering all the things we got up to on the side, though not without its merits, I think. I'm quite sure of my path as a Huntress.”
He nodded distractedly, seemingly not hearing her, his mind flitting from one topic to the next. “Good. That’s good.”
“Sir— Mr. Xiao Long— if you would pardon me, what is it that you wanted to speak to me about?”
He looked down at her with pale, solemn eyes. “Yes, yes, of course. Teammates are some of the only people in the world with whom you can have the strongest relationships; the strongest bonds. They have the trust of family, the warmth of friends, the love of partners. Every bond you can think of can exist within a team— and it does with yours. A bond of sisters, a bond of those who love each other, a bond of partners, a bond of opposites, and a real Bond. That being said, family shouldn’t leave each other— and nor should a team; not unless they have to, unless it’s totally unavoidable.”
“Sir,” Blake said, faltering at the sorrowful look on his face, “what are you trying to say?”
He sighed, turning away, two fingers unconsciously tracing an ugly, thick scar across his arm. “I worry… that history might repeat itself once more with my children. Because my partner once abandoned me, I fear that in turn, my daughter’s partner might leave her. That partner is you. I don’t think, logically, you’d leave her; I wouldn’t dream of you hurting her; but a parent can’t help but worry about these things… and I trust you know she’s been hurt before by those she’s loved, by people who have left her. I was one of them once. There were extenuating circumstances, of course, but I fear that another person leaving her would damage her beyond repair. She’s suffered many betrayals. Even one betrayal can tear a team apart, understand? A betrayal shatters those bonds of love and trust. And my children are strong, I know they are, but they can’t handle everything the way they think they can. They’ve both almost been killed trying to do what they believe to be right.”
He can’t possibly think I would willingly abandon Yang without a word, like Raven did. I love her… I wouldn’t do that… does he really believe…?
“I know I can’t assuage your fears,” she said quietly. “But I can say that I would not leave her. Not unless it was beyond my choice. She’s my partner, and… she’s always my first priority. I would never hurt your daughter.”
He gave her a small smile. “I know you wouldn’t. I wouldn’t stand for you for a second if I didn’t see the way you treat her. I know that you make her happy, and that you place her wellbeing above even your own. I wouldn’t pick anyone else to be her partner.”
Blake, humbled by the praise, blinked in surprise at the genuine warmth on his face. “Thank you.”
“I’m sure that’s enough thoroughly heavy talk for today. Thank you for speaking with me, Blake. You should go and rejoin your teammates now.” He clapped her on the shoulder the way a father would, and she felt a pang of echoing sadness as she remembered her own father: and realized her entire team had entirely broken families. Blake was an orphan. Weiss had lost her mother, and her father had clearly damaged a part of her beyond repair, making her retreat into the cold shell of a person that was her only coping mechanism, her only defense. Yang’s mother had abandoned her before she could even remember anything, and Ruby’s mom had died, and their father had retreated into a depression.
None of them had that support. They really, truly only knew family through each other, because they were a family. Blake blinked as the gravity of it struck her: Yang and Ruby were sisters; Weiss and Ruby were some of the closest friends; Weiss and Blake were opposite as could be— a Faunus and the daughter of a Faunus-killer; Yang and Blake were Bonded, as in love as anything.
The bonds that tie us together are tangled, intertwined forever. We’re all that each other have now.
And I'll never leave them again. I swear it.