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~~oO-Defiance-Oo~~

"The Gods envy us. They envy us because we are mortal. For us, everything is beautiful, because every moment might be our last. You and I will never be lovelier than we are now.

We will never be here again."

~~oOOo~~

Pyrrha Nikos had been a violent child.

One would never guess that if they were to look at her now, but then again, no one really looked at her. If they did, their eyes would only behold the Champion, the model Huntress-in-Training that they all aspired to be. No one ever saw the too-tall-for-her-age, socially awkward teenaged girl who had been fed grandiose dreams since she could walk.

But the fact remained, that Pyrrha Nikos had been a violent child.

She had been navigating the swamps and climbing tall trees, back in her little village in Mistral, ever since she could remember. Her first memories were of summers spent in the scorching sun, climbing mango trees in search of the juiciest, choicest of fruits. She would run faster, climb higher and endure longer than any of her childhood friends, sometimes even surpassing their older brothers and sisters.

One day, an older girl had tried to steal the wild-berries that she had collected, to show off proudly to her mom and bask in the radiance of her praise. That day, she had beaten down the girl and gave her a black eye, sending her running off crying.

Her mom had frowned at her and even scolded her in front of everyone, but once they were alone, she had given Pyrrha a big hug and told her how proud she was that she had such a strong daughter.

Pyrrha had smiled for days after that.

~~oOOo~~

Her village in Mistral hadn't been easy to live in, but they were happy. They were content. They had heard tell of tall skyscrapers and massive cities in Atlas, or of the historic and ancient settlements in Vale, and even the gargantuan oases in the empty deserts of Vacuo, but what need did they have of them? They led a simple life, away from the chaos of a big city.

Every night, her mom would lay Pyrrha down on her lap, then she would listen to Pyrrha chatter about her day; about all the silly nonsensical things that children think is so important; all the while oiling her fiery long hair and brushing it carefully to get rid of the day's accumulated leaves, grime and other such assorted sediments. After the long ritual was completed, she would hug Pyrrha tight, praise her on being a strong and brave girl, then they would go lay on the bed where her mom would tell her the best stories.

'The sweetest of stories are those that tell us of the saddest of tales' her mother would always say. Pyrrha always thought it morbid, bur true. She never had any interest in exploits of brave knights, or of men rescuing princesses from the dragon, or from an evil witch. How could she enjoy them if she couldn't even relate to them?

The best stories she loved were of the ancient legends of Mistral, of warrior maidens and dauntless conquerors. She loved hearing about the Four Maidens, who brought about an era of peace in the world. She adored listening to exploits of doom-laden heroes, fighting ever forwards to meet their fates. Sometimes when her mom was too tired to tell her a story, she would simply hold Pyrrha close and sing her an old folk-song:

'The Hero lay dying at the top of the Glenn Mountain,

The Hero lay dying with nine wounds on his side.

O, you falcon, fly to him and tell him his men are safe.

Safe in the Glenn Mountain, all his men.

The Hero lay dying with nine wounds on his side,

But it was this tenth that killed him.'

Pyrrha remembered asking about the meaning of this song to her mother. Her mom had smiled sadly and told her that even though the Hero was fated to save his men, even if it had meant his martyrdom; dying alone high atop that mountain was not a happy ending. Pyrrha remembered asking innocently why the Hero wasn't happy? He had done what he had set out to do after all!

Her mom said nothing, except how it was his fate.

The Hero's Destiny.

~~oOOo~~

Pyrrha had gotten her first taste of combat when her village had been beset by Grimm. She had been scarcely nine or ten, and had not even built her first weapon yet! Though she had trained exhaustively with wooden dummies and dull-edged weighted swords and spears for years now. Her superior physical skills had caught the attention of many within the villages, and her eagerness to learn set her apart from most children her age. It wasn't unusual for her to observe guardsmen and soldiers train at the local barracks and would then spend the whole day emulating what she saw.

The guardsmen had done their best to hold the line , but a few stray beowolves had still managed to get through. The villagers, while untrained, were far from useless, and had proceeded to swarm the beasts, hacking and slashing with their farming implements. Pyrrha had noticed a straggler and had followed after it, cornering the menacing creature in a dark alley. Remembering the lessons she had learnt from the older soldiers, she had cornered the beast, her body crouched low, ready to jump at a moments notice. The minute the creature growled and lunged, she had rolled under it and stabbed upwards with a large kitchen knife, skewering the beast's stomach. As it struggled to regain it's bearings, Pyrrha had wasted no time and had brought down another knife upon it's head, killing it.

Breathing heavily, she had relished the feeling of pride of her first Grimm kill, licking the moisture off her lips as she proudly watched the creature dissipate in smoky wisps, leaving her knives clattering on the ground. She had been so proud, so enthused with her first kill, that she forgot the still-ongoing battle in her village.

No more Grimm broke through that night, and by the first light of dawn, the Grimm had been successfully repulsed, leaving nothing but dead soldiers and their grieving families behind. On that day Pyrrha had understood what it meant to be a true hero. Her own success notwithstanding, she had made no difference in the overall battle. She had not defended anyone, nor had she sacrificed anything. She was a hunter of Grimm, yes, but she wasn't a hero. Those soldiers, being burnt upon the pyres, they were the true heroes.

~~oOOo~~

She had first set her sights upon Sanctum Academy when she was twelve, starting out a year earlier than most people. She had left her mom and her village behind with a heavy heart. Before she left, her mom had bestowed upon her an ancient copper circlet, which had been in their family for generations, dating to even before the Great War. The original bearer of that circlet had been a warrior beyond compare, Penthesilea she had been called.

She had rallied her tribe and had carved out a vast empire for herself before they were beset by a vast horde of Grimm. She had stayed behind and fought on, along with her royal guards until the last of the tribe had been evacuated. It was said that when they mustered an army vast enough to fight back against the Grimm and reclaimed the lost land, they had found her corpse, still standing upright an year after her death, her spear standing unbroken and proud beside her. They had reclaimed her body and her personal effects were given to her daughter as heirlooms. Over time, most of these had been lost but the circlet had remained.

She vowed to make herself worthy of the great gift. To live as a Hero, a warrior-princess born again in this new world.

~~oOOo~~

Her first team mission had been disastrous.

The students in Sanctum were divided in teams of eight each, double the size of an usual Hunter's team. Their mission was simple. All they had to was to go to the Eternal Spring mangroves and retrieve a bushel full of the green aloe plant per team. The probability of combat was low, and Pyrrha had scoffed at the instructions being given. She had been doing this since she was a child. She hardly needed to hear the basics of woodcraft again, especially after her rough and tumble upbringing.

She should have paid attention.

The Grimm had attacked in horde, attracted by the smell of the sweet aloe juice. Pyrrha herself had been graceful and ruthless in battle, dispatching the beowolves and the occasional Ursa Minor with brutal efficiency, but she had neglected to take her team-mates into account.

It had been a rout.

In the aftermath, Pyrrha was lauded for her combat skills and was fast-tracked to be allowed to build her own weapon. Of her team, three had been too injured to be a hunter-in-training anymore and had dropped out, while the remaining four were equal parts jealous and overawed by her.

Pyrrha was being called a Hero, but she felt she was worse than a failure.

~~oOOo~~

The first thing she had built was her Shield. She built it as a reminder of her failure to protect. She had named it 'Akoúo̱' which meant 'to Listen'. It was a permanent instruction for her, to not lose herself into battle, to pay attention to those around her, to Listen to their plight and to come to their defense. That was the path towards being a hero.

She had spent a long time in designing her primary offensive weapon. She had been fighting with bladed weapons for so long, that it was a second nature. So it being a sword was a given, but she wanted something more. She had wanted to invoke the images of her famous ancestor of old, of the Hero Penthesilea. So she allowed a design for it to shift into a long handled javelin. The last shift it could be changed into was a rifle.

Her instructors were in a state of shock after seeing a student designing such an ambitious, multi-function weapon, which even established hunters would balk at, but she persevered. She successfully built her weapon and proceeded to train relentlessly with the javelin and the rifle forms.

She lovingly named it Milo. To Speak. It was time to let her weapon do the talking.

~~oOOo~~

She had won the Mistral Tournament for the third year in a row. Ever since she had burst into the scene as a first year student in Sanctum, she had competed in it and won every time. Only the first time had been truly challenging. By the time the second tournament had rolled around, she had discovered her Semblance of Polarity. In a world where most weapons were metallic in origin, her Semblance made defeating her opponents even easier.

By that time she was already being hailed as the Face of Mistral, the poster girl upon whose shoulders the dreams and pride of an entire nation would rest. She had been approached by the famous cereal brand, Pumpkin Pete and several others besides. Schnee Dust Company had approached her too once, but the rumors circulating about their unfair labor practices made her hesitant to work with them. They had not approached her again.

The more her fame had grown, the more lonely she felt. She started to long for the days back in the village where she had been the uppity youngling Pyrrha, not the Prodigal Huntress Pyrrha. But the last visit home had left her too disenchanted. Even the rowdy boys and girls of the village, the children of her age-group treated her as if she was now on a pedestal. As if she had surpassed her humanity and was now above them.

She wondered for the first time if this was what being a Hero was like.

~~oOOo~~

It had been her last year at Sanctum, where she had graduated at the top of the class. She had also created history by winning the Mistral Tournament four times in a row. She had applied to Beacon Academy of Vale, widely thought to be the best academy where she could get the opportunity to challenge herself. It was already being whispered that her application had been a formality, that she was already a shoo-in.

It was true, of course, but the assumption had hurt.

She had grown quieter over the years, taking the lessons of her failures to heart. She had mellowed out, keeping to herself, hoping that this would make her more approachable...hoping that someone would see how humble and non-threatening she could be and would finally gather the courage to come and talk to her, but as she found out, this only served to make her be even more distant from her classmates.

Pyrrha found herself growing tired of this attitude of her year-mates. Was it her fault that she was determined to be a Hero? Was it her fault that she wanted to make a difference in the world? She had started walking further down the lonely and less-trodden path of Hero, but she felt conflicted at the price that she had started to pay.

In days of doubt like that, Pyrrha would think back to those stories of her childhood, remembering the ideals that she had been brought up on.

'The hero lay dying with nine wounds on his side...' Pyrrha had just started to realize what the tenth wound was that killed the Hero.

Still, she soldiered on, having decided to meet her destiny, whatever it may be, with no doubt in her heart.

Besides, Beacon promised to be a whole new adventure. A fresh start with her peers, each better than the last. She looked forward to being challenged...a new journey had awaited her.

~~oOOo~~

Beacon wasn't all that different from Sanctum, all things considered.

While the trainee hunters were far more skilled than from a junior combat school, they were the same star-struck masses that she thought she had left behind. The entire journey on the Bullhead VTOL was filled with kids coming up to ask for her autograph, even embarrassingly, some wanted them to sign their cereal boxes or limited edition Pyrrha Nikos toys and assorted collectibles. It had made her feel awkward and stilted and a little resentful, that little stunt would have put off the rare few who might have been willing to approach her, and she was right. The rest of her ride passed in absolute silence.

The lead up to the Welcoming Speech had been unremarkable, to say the least. A few people did catch her eye, the Schnee heiress prominent among them. However among all the inconsequential introductions and conversations she was part of that night, a gangly blonde boy stood out.

For one thing, he had passed by her in the Hall, chatting animatedly to a young girl dressed mainly in reds. She had already prepared to put on her brave face and smile politely, but he had passed her by, completely, blissfully ignoring her! It had been an unprecedented and a very welcome change of events. This curiosity was further intensified when the boy strode in that night, wearing a baby-blue, bunny-patterned onesie and actually pulling the look off with sheer bravado and confidence.

For someone who had prided herself on being prim, proper and impeccable, this boy was like a fresh air.

That night, Pyrrha had gone to sleep wondering about who the curious blonde boy was.

~~oOOo~~

Pyrrha was no stranger to weapons, this was an universally accepted fact.

The blonde boy, now identified as Jaune Arc, a name which apparently was short, sweet, pleasantly pronounceable and beloved of females the world over; was clearly the furthest from capable.

He had seemed unsure, hesitant and scared, like someone who had bitten off more than he could chew. A far cry from his encounter with her earlier in the day. When they had met up in the locker room, Pyrrha had been engaged in a polite conversation with the Schnee heiress, who to no one's surprise, wanted her to form a team together. Pyrrha had not been able to think of a way to decline her invitation without hurting her feelings, when he had barged into the conversation, had tried to flirt in vain with the Schnee girl and had ended up with Milo jammed through his shirt and pinned to a locker, when Pyrrha had embarrassingly acted on instinct at a cry for help from the heiress.

Pyrrha had resolved to make this curious blonde boy her teammate. Not even a full twelve hours with him and he had already behaved so differently to what she was used to. She hadn't been attracted romantically to him, not at all, she had merely been curious.

Curiosity did kill the cat, as the old tales go.

~~oOOo~~

That night had been one of the happiest nights of Pyrrha's life in recent years. She had successfully snared Jaune as her teammate and the other two teammates were uniquely quirky too. Nora Valkyrie, the orange-haired berserker was cute and small and bubbly at most times, though in battle she was a powerhouse of deadly attacks, as demonstrated by the fight against the Deathstalker. The other boy, Lie Ren, was quiet, collected and seemed unfazed by anything, in addition to being a skilled fighter.

Jaune however, while still rough around the edges had proved himself to be an incredible leader, able to think of a winning strategy even under incredible pressure.

She had just known that Jaune had been a diamond in the rough, first seen when she had unlocked his aura and felt it wash over her, protective, warm and courageous, reminiscent of the qualities of Heroes of old. Now, more than ever, she had solemnly vowed to herself that she would bring the diamond hidden within to light. That she would painstakingly carve it, polish it and hone it till Jaune would shine with a brilliant light, eclipsing all who would dare to stand against him. Against them. Team Juniper.

Despite walking down the path of a Hero for the longest time, Pyrrha was no longer alone. Now she had a team to protect.

~~oOOo~~

The next few months had been the best and worst of times for Pyrrha. She had never been happier, yet at the same time she had never felt more disheartened or exasperated. Like life, her time with Team Juniper was marked with some very high points, chief among which were the time spent with Jaune, the fated Prom Night at Beacon and fighting together with Team RWBY against villainous, insidious schemes. Funnily enough, the low points of this period were the time spent with Jaune, the fated Prom Night at Beacon and fighting together with Team RWBY against villainous, insidious schemes.

But through it all, they had persevered and had grown the stronger for it. Pyrrha had never been prouder when Jaune took down an Ursa single-handedly in a few seconds. At the same time, despite all their efforts, Vale had been damaged in the attacks, and while the casualties had been very low, it was still a rude wake-up call to the two teams.

In those times Pyrrha had felt the cold hands of inevitable fate close in around her, gripping her in a chill that settled in her heart. Events were spiraling out beyond control at an alarming rate, and the solemn drumbeats of war marched ever closer.

It made Pyrrha want to savor and treasure the time she spent with those that she loved even more. It made her let go of some of her natural reserves and inhibitions and grab hold of Jaune.

Watching him sputter and blush with embarrassment had never failed to bring a smile to her face anyway.

~~oOOo~~

By and large, the Vytal Festival had been the worst time-period of her young life.

The thing that began it all had been the revelation that the Legend of the Four Maidens had been true! That had shocked her and destroyed her world-view in an instant. If the maidens were real, what else might be? It brought back all the memories of her childhood back with a vengeance. And this revelation couldn't have come at a worse possible time for her. She had just begun to look beyond her destiny as a hero, and had begun to explore what else she could possibly be.

In her heart of hearts, she thought she knew; that she wanted the budding relationship between her and her lovable goof of a Captain to deepen and become more meaningful. She wanted to let go of the lonely path of the Hero and become merely a huntress.

But with the revelation that Heroes were real, Legends were real, and sure enough, the Monsters were real too, she was conflicted. What did it even mean to be a Hero anymore? Was she being the Hero by allowing another to take over herself? Would it mean the death of her if she went through the unnatural Aura-Transfer? If it was to be her death, would it even serve a purpose? From what Pyrrha saw, it was nothing more than a delaying tactic, keeping the power of the Fall Maiden away just that little bit longer.

Still, she had till the end of tournament to come to a decision.

Pyrrha could only hope that the upcoming matches would help clear her mind.

~~oOOo~~

Pyrrha really should have known better. Yet even she couldn't believe how things could go wrong so easily and so quickly.

Foremost in the series of unfortunate events was her friend Yang's unwarranted assault on the defenseless boy from Haven Academy. In front of the whole world, Yang had lashed out in anger at the boy and had viciously broken his leg. Pyrrha wanted to believe in her friend, that she was innocent...but the cameras were proof enough.

Nevertheless, Pyrrha had thought kindly of her friend, hoping against hope that it was merely stress that had caused her to snap, but it still cast a pall over the festivities.

People had begun to mutter and whisper, the negativity had been almost palpable, and once again, Pyrrha felt a cold shiver as she felt her doom marching nearer. She wrestled internally with choices for hours upon hours. She had let her team go ahead and enjoy the festival while they still could. As for her, she had lost herself in the serene beauty of the fall season. Despite her best efforts she hadn't reached a conclusion, so after what seemed to be an endless turmoil in her heart, she had bared her troubles to the one she cared for above all others.

He always was a truer Hero than her. His answer was swift and decisive. She knew then that she had to be a Hero. It was her Destiny.

She was going to be a Hero, even if it meant killing her heart.

She had run away sobbing, but strangely her mind had never been clearer.

~~oOOo~~

Pyrrha had idly noted her opponent, the sweet and gentle friend of Ruby, Penny. The girl reminded her starkly of Nora, they had the same build, same shade of hair and even the same good nature. But while Nora was a gale force, a hurricane all on her own, Penny was sharper, more logical. She had chirped her salutations and greeted her, but Pyrrha had been too tormented to reply.

What followed was one of the best fights that she had ever fought. Penny countered everything Pyrrha threw at her. Her multiple string controlled swords were seemingly endless and each one was at the perfect time to interrupt her counters or attacks. Even after she had landed a clean solid hit upon the slender girl, Penny had bounced back and responded with a volley of lasers, of all things.

Pyrrha had tried to go on the offensive, but her sword and her shield were knocked off her hands by the Atlesian's accurately timed swords. Without her Milo and Akouo to hide and defend behind, Pyrrha had prepared to use her Semblance to even the odds.

It was then that Pyrrha had seen the swords multiply in numbers.

Logically, there was no possible method by which this could be happening. Penny had no way of carrying or using such an unnaturally large number of swords. But in the face of such danger, all logic had shut down and Pyrrha and responded instinctively with an overpowered burst of her semblance. Even as she did that, the fog in her head seemed to clear, only to be replaced by soul-crushing, mind-numbing horror.

She had watched, dumbstruck, when Penny lost control of the swords due to Pyrrha's attack.

She had watched, open-mouthed in horror when the wires had looped around the girl's body and tightened around it.

She had known what was going to happen after that.

For a moment, Penny had been replaced by Nora, who looked accusingly at Pyrrha before being torn apart in a rush of blood. For one instant it was her teammates, back from Sanctum, who were being ripped to pieces.

Pyrrha had blinked once, and looked at the reality before her.

Penny had lain dead, split in half. The fact that she was a robot didn't even seemed to register.

In her eyes, Pyrrha had slain an innocent, someone good and pure, someone that she had sworn to protect. She hadn't just failed, she was the bloody hand that wielded the sword.

Pyrrha knew that she was far from being a true Hero, but she thought herself to still be a good person. Not anymore. Now she was a murderer.

~~oOOo~~

What came after was as if through a haze. Wars were declared, hopes were shattered, and the Grimm were unleashed.

Pyrrha remembered apologizing to Ruby, she remembered being saved by her. Ruby, she was another true Hero, one who would even save the murderer of her friend, because it was the right thing to do.

She remembered taking up Milo and Akouo once again, wading into the fight before being called upon by Ozpin. The hour of her destiny was upon her now. She had wanted to do this right, that despite all her mistakes, she would walk down the lonely path of a Hero. But to her consternation, Jaune followed behind her.

She had chosen to go through with the ritual, bidding a silent, yet heartfelt goodbye to the man she now knew she loved. But there was nothing to be done. It was her destiny.

Pyrrha remembered the soul-crushing pain of a foreign aura invading her body before it was cut off suddenly.

She watched the raven-haired girl glow with the Fall Maiden's power and Jaune go in heroically to confront her, only to be thrown back in a wave of force.

She wanted to make a stand, futile as it may be, against the girl, but was told by Ozpin that she would be useless now, and that she should take Jaune and go.

She went.

The shame of yet another of her failure stinging her eyes.

~~oOOo~~

As they ran, Pyrrha couldn't help but think how dismal a hero she was. She could never protect anything, she could never save anyone, she couldn't even decide to sacrifice herself fast enough.

It was then that she remembered, those half-forgotten tales from long ago. A hero wasn't a hero because he always did the right thing. He was a hero because he did the right thing at the right time. A hero may not be the first at a fight, but a hero was someone who doesn't stop fighting till the end. A hero may not always win, but a hero was someone who would do their best at any cost.

Even if a hero is friendless, and alone, he goes out to meet his destiny.

That was a hero's fate. That was the destiny of a hero.

Behind them, the Headmaster's tower shook violently and they could see the streak of fire fly upwards with no one in pursuit.

It was then that she knew what had to be done.

Stories might say that a hero walks alone, but she always had Jaune with her. No matter where she would be, no matter how she would be, he was the one to always be there for her.

Pyrrha's heart swelled in a wave of gratitude and love for the young man beside her, and she finally gave in to her own wishes and pressed her lips to his, in a last, desperate kiss.

It had been perfect, as she knew and imagined it to be. Despite the blood, grime and soot, the kiss had been sweet, filled with promises of love and companionship. All of the words she never said, all of the glances that he could never see, she let it all out in that final kiss.

Then she once again killed her heart and threw Jaune into a locker, sending him flying far away from the tower.

Even though she was already defying her lonely destiny, she could not ignore something as basic as the fact that above all, a hero protects.

~~oOOo~~

The fight with the new Fall Maiden had been long drawn and brutal. Pyrrha had fought like a woman possessed, matching blows for blows, spurred to greater heights by the thoughts of those she was defending, those she was buying time for. Nora, Ren, her friends in Team RWBY...Jaune...

They were all counting on her to save the day, and she certainly rose to the occasion.

But in the end, the dark-haired woman would not be denied. She had wounded Pyrrha with a dirty trick: an arrow to the back of the leg.

As Pyrrha stumbled and tried to rise up to her feet, she felt the heavy hand of destiny upon her. This was her appointed hour, the moment which would be sung about for centuries when they told of her legend.

She knew she was going to die, yet try as she might, she had no regrets. Had she lived beyond this moment, she would have loved to settle down with her love. Build a family, enjoy the little pleasures that only a family brings. But on the here and now, as she lay upon the lonely pedestal, she felt content.

She had always known that she would meet a hero's doom. She had expected to be alone. Yet she had all friends in her heart and the taste of her love's lips upon her own. This was more than what she felt she deserved. It was more than what she had ever expected.

She had met her destiny, and laughed in it's face. For she was not afraid.

Looking upon the cold gaze of her killer, Pyrrha asked, "Do you believe in Destiny?"

Her murderer had answered, "Yes." with all the surety and assurance that comes from one who is doom-driven.

If she had the strength, Pyrrha would have smiled. Her work was done and despite all her failures, she had acquitted herself honorably. Cowards may die many times before their deaths, but the Valiant never taste of death, but once. Before her death, Pyrrha was happy.

'The Hero laid dying upon that lonely stone,

The Hero laid dying with many wounds on her side.

The Hero laid dying with many wounds on her side,

Yet it was the arrow that killed her. '

"For it is in passing that we achieve immortality.

Through this we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all. Infinite in distance and unbound by death."

Fin.