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The fading memories of a ruthless war granted passage to a delicate peace that whispered through Remnant once more. On a restless breeze, scents of renewal hinted at changing seasons, bringing forth new life. Dreams–once dormant–now stirred, spreading tender roots in soils kept cold and barren.
High atop a tower marred by said war, Weiss Schnne found herself watching Pyrrha–her guardian, her partner–in the colorful garden below. She had swapped her battle armor for soft, golden robes that glinted under the midday sun, accentuated by a crimson scarf that fluttered like flames alongside her hair.
Despite the departure of her family and the allure of home reflected in Pyrrha's emerald eyes, she remained in Vale. The days of wielding a spear or raging fire against the darkness had faded into the past; she was no longer bound by duty to these lands–for which she already bartered pieces of herself she could never reclaim.
And yet, there she stood.
This choice was born from a sacred oath. Sword and shield. A princess and her knight. Dragon and its rider. A vow aimed towards the same goal, unyielding until death.
But perhaps, hidden within that shared destiny, there lay something deeper...if Weiss found enough courage in her heart to seek it out.
"I see that Dragonborn still has you wrapped around her finger," A sly, familiar voice came from behind, its smug inflection unmistakable.
Whitley had a talent for sneaking up on her at the most inconvenient moments, always revealing his presence when she was deep in thought. Whether it was the burdens of family duty or wrestling with her affection for Pyrrha, he seemed to appear out of thin air. Weiss assumed he derived a certain pleasure in disrupting her.
"Do you still believe she's plotting for my inheritance, brother?" Weiss's said with a razor-sharp edge in her words, emphasizing the last one.
Sister, I implore you to tell me if I was a good brother before I march off to my demise, please~~. That request had followed endless rounds of wine. It was on the eve of his departure to negotiate with the Belladonnas, hoping to secure their continued cooperation despite his father's crimes against their race. Fear had clouded his mind, worried that they might condemn him for the family's sins.
While she understood his concerns, Weiss couldn't resist teasing him about the embarrassment he was that day.
Whitley coughed awkwardly, brushing off his sister's jibe. "I know she’s not after your inheritance," he said. “She's from dragon descent–obviously–but lacks a noble bloodline, and also any interest in it. Still. The elders may have a word or two to say about this .”
"The elders only play their bloodline card when it suits them," Weiss retorted bitterly. The council of her clan held rigid beliefs about hierarchy and were staunchly against any union between Weiss and a lowborn.
But Weiss was no longer that naive girl who would lower her head to political ploys. She had her fill of those games for a lifetime, courtesy of her father.
Whitley smirked, "That's more or less what I expected. You were rather forthright—perhaps overly so—in defending your relationship with her." he said, leaning against the window and glancing at Pyrrha through the glass. “But that's not all I came to discuss. Do you truly understand what being with her entails?”
"I’ve already made–"
"Are you prepared to make that vow with her?"
Weiss blinked in surprise at his words. It was unexpected for him to pry into matters of the heart, let alone show any interest in them.
Weiss’ heart tugged when she also glanced at Pyrrha. She was far from that daring young girl who had broken free from her life's chains, striving for honor by fighting for the realm; all while aiming to achieve this by becoming Weiss Schnee's vanguard.
In a hall where warriors paraded their accolades and haughty nobles reveled in their grandeur, Pyrrha shone as a lonely star–a commoner navigating the highborn assembly with grace and head high, vying for the favor of Lady Schnee among the rest.
Choosing to go in the front lines in the impending war, Weiss needed to choose a champion to trust her life upon, yet all they sought was wealth and fame in a conflict that paid little heed to either.
But not that girl. Clad in a battered armor amidst shimmering gowns on polished marble floors, Pyrrha exuded an air of truth among a sea of pretense.
The memory of the night when she bound her fate to Pyrrha always made Weiss's heart flutter. It was the day she defied laws, disobeyed her father’s orders, and embraced the sweet scent of freedom that comes with breaking free from spoon-fed complacency–a fragrance that lingered every time she revisited it. Oh, how it tasted like a sweet victory.
Challenging conventions always does. As Blake would say.
"I'll offered it to her," Weiss replied firmly, a hint of excitement in her voice now. "That is why I have asked her to wait for me there. To stay in Vale."
Whitley let out a dramatic sigh and rubbed his face with his hand. "You have not spoken to her yet? Gods, how can you be so terrible at this?"
The thinly veiled mockery edging his words put Weiss's tolerance to the test–her fingers instinctively clenched, reminiscent of the first manifestation of her aeromancy when Whitley was tossed out of her bedroom window. His taunts had a talent for summoning storms.
It was not the consequences, status, or her duty that hindered Weiss for so long. No, it was the ever-changing tides of war, stirring fears of broken promises and uncertain outcomes. And perhaps, there lingered a dread of Pyrrha's reply.
She couldn't help it. A deluge of emotions flooded Weiss during those three long years–what should have been but a week in the life of an elf. Uncertainty swirled within her, unable to know if she could find the words to fully convey her feelings to Pyrrha.
Lost in thought, Weiss didn’t notice her brother exiting from the room. As Whitley left, he flicked his hand upwards, releasing a cloud of smoke that coalesced into glowing red letters suspended in mid-air–same colour as Pyrrha's hair.
'Just don't get burned,' they spelled out.
She didn't grasp the meaning behind that nonsense and wasn't interested in knowing either. Sending him away to experience life beyond their father's strict rules had truly caused a change within her brother–perhaps too much so.
It was often difficult to discern whether Whitley was jesting for his own amusement or seeking a quarrel with her. She knew her brother cared for her, as he never hesitated to make it known when he held disdain towards something or someone.
Nowadays, she merely rolled her eyes at his childishness. Weiss knew he sought this moment alone with her to ensure one final time that her resolve remained firm. All for her well-being, though he would never admit it.
Rather than dissecting her brother's intentions, she simply chose to revel in her good mood and overlook any problems for today. "Do not watch us!" she called out as the echoes of Whitley's footsteps faded into silence down the corridor.
After all was quiet, Weiss drank the last remnants of a cup of wine in one bold swig, gathering her courage and everything laying in her heart before turning her full attention back to Pyrrha.
Weiss barely noticed the sudden meeting of their eyes, but Pyrrha did. The surprise, and the bright smile on her face was enough to halt Weiss's heart for a moment. You're not a little girl anymore, Weiss...
Taking one last breath, Weiss unlatched the window and beckoned for the wind to join her descent. In response, a small tempest sprang to life, swirling stone and rubble around the room as she threw herself into the maelstrom. Below her, some citizens stood frozen, awe-struck eyes reflecting Weiss as she descended like a star falling before them.
However, her landing was feather-light, her magic delaying her connection with the earth at the last possible moment. Even old wizards wouldn't gamble on such a move, but Weiss's affinity with wind magic was unmatched.
Smiling graciously, she acknowledged the two citizens–young girls clutching gardening tools–who were unfamiliar faces to her. They must be survivors from the west seeking refuge and work, she thought.
Her heart ached for all those who lost their lives battling against the Grimm at the southwest border, whose sacrifice was pivotal in turning the tide of the war. Their unwavering determination had led the realm to victory, and those names will be an inspiration for future generations.
Still, it filled Weiss with pride to know that under Winter's leadership, the Schnee name now represented hope for those who lost their home. Perhaps it was time for her to write a letter to her older sister to thank her for helping to restore the family's honor across the world.
The girls bowed awkwardly three times before scurrying back to their tasks. Out of the corner of her eye, Weiss glimpsed the younger one blushing and stealing glances at her. They had probably only heard stories of The Ice Queen–as she was more known–told around campfires in the south.
"You've become quite famous now, eh?" Pyrrha's voice, strong yet gentle, broke the silence beside her.
Her crimson hair cascaded in loose waves down her waist, each stranding stealing the sunset's rays. As their eyes met again, a blush lighted up, creating a halo of warmth around Pyrrha’s face. Her serpentine eyes sparkled in the light, such true and deep color like an emerald.
Weiss's own face felt hot. Those tense, fast furled emotions she was still not used to began to rise again, laboring for freedom in her chest like the wings of a young, trapped bird.
"G-Good to see you again, Weiss," Pyrrha's words were barely audible, her confidence warring with her shyness.
She was a towering figure, always maintaining an impenetrable facade as a leader on the battlefield. But with Weiss, she could let down her walls and reveal a more vulnerable side.
Still, only her presence was enough to make Weiss swallow her own greeting, unsure of her voice. It was strange, after all they had been through together, this simple interaction, somehow, seemed more difficult than facing a wyvern.
Thankfully, a quick breath was enough to ease Weiss' nerves. "I'm glad you stayed, Pyrrha," she replied with a short smile, gesturing for her to follow the path.
"Have you bid farewell to your family? N-Not that I doubt you would forget such a thing, of course. I just want to ensure all is well." Weiss asked.
Pyrrha laughed. And her laugh was—Gods, Weiss was in such trouble.
She knew it. She wished to be in no other state. "I did."
Pyrrha said, "I made sure to inform them that the new Warden requires my services, whatever they may be."
Weiss winced at the reminder of her new title–bestowed upon her by the king himself–but also couldn't help feeling a sense of pride. “I am not sure if I liked that one,” she admitted, “but I suppose I'm one now.”
Pyrrha's smile widened at Weiss's modesty, knowing that titles and appearances meant little to her dear partner.
"And the most beautiful one," she added, her voice a little demure, but her expression rather pleased with her own daring.
Weiss playfully nudged Pyrrha's side, even though she was unable to move her even an inch with her small arms.
As they closed the physical gap between them, Weiss found herself enveloped in Pyrrha's warmth. Their noticeable difference in height often drew teasing comments from their friends and acquaintances, but Weiss was quite fond of it.
"I want to share something with you," Weiss whispered softly for Pyrrha's ears alone amidst a sea of colorful flowers, and also curious glances from those girls she had encountered earlier. She couldn't shake off the feeling of Whitley's gaze among them, though it may just have been her biased imagination. "Let us move somewhere more private."
Weiss' fingers lightly curl inside Pyrrha’s hand, a touch as delicate as a lily flower. As they ascended a steep path–with Weiss leading the way–Pyrrha couldn't help but savor the tenderness in which Weiss held her calloused hands.
They had been cold as ice on the night when she swore her oath to be Weiss's vanguard, but now they radiated warmth like the first rays of summer sun over the peaks of her hometown.
During moments of silence between them, Pyrrha's mind wandered, filled with questions and emotions sprouting like wildflowers after a long winter. Why did Weiss ask her to stay in Vale? What does she want from Pyrrha now that the war is over?
Despite Pyrrha's efforts to suppress them, buried old dreams danced within her heart. Fantasies she should throw away before they could spread further.
Forget it. You're still a lowborn, and she is Weiss Schnee.
Replaying that old phrase in her mind was a sort of mantra; a way to quash her feelings, to protect Weiss's status and their friendship.
Whether their course wound uphill or downhill, Pyrrha's loyalty to Weiss remained the same—a binding oath until death. Even if Weiss no longer needed her spear, Pyrrha would comply if Weiss sought her shield.
And that's all she needed to be.
"How is he? Whitley, I mean," Pyrrha asked, carefully walking around the frost-kissed stones, attempting to distract her mind.
Weiss sighed. "He's been improving, but it's still a work in progress." Whitley was a mystery to Pyrrha—mischievous yet sometimes mindful, careless yet sometimes dutiful. "The oldest habits have the deepest roots. He can be...volatile."
Pyrrha sneaked a sideways glance at Weiss. "Unlike you, eh?"
A sarcastic frown crossed Weiss' face, masking her smirk. "I’ve no idea what you're insinuating."
"That sweet smile of yours has been known to turn into a murderous glare on occasion," she informed her, risking being the next target of it.
"Good," Weiss grinned, scowling a little for good measure."I'm glad my reputation precedes me."
Despite the tug of laughter at the corner of her lips, Pyrrha steered the conversation back on course. “ai remember seeing fear in his eyes against my true form,” she said, used to that familiar look.
Weiss shrugged. “His fear of dragons is nothing for you to worry about. He was afraid of spirits as a child."
Pyrrha's eyes widened as she looked at Weiss, receiving a nod in return to truly confirm that what she heard was true. "An elf...afraid of spirits? That's…something. I almost feel sorry for him now."
"Don’t be," Weiss said as she walked ahead, a playful glint dancing in her eyes. "His irrational fears brought some much-needed humor into our somber home."
Finally reaching the hilltop, Weiss paused and spread her arms wide, taking in the view before them. A vast expanse of shimmering water stretched out ahead, untouched by the winter winds as if immune to be frozen. The river seemed to pulse with magic as it wound its way through the sprawling woodland.
"Quite a sight, isn't it?" she asked, but Pyrrha couldn't take her eyes off of Weiss. Sunbeams danced off of her snowy hair, almost a perfect frame of their first encounter.
She looked like an angel that night, carrying a sense of purpose and direction to Pyrrha's life. An angel who chose a dragon to be her wings.
"Yes, it is." Pyrrha replied, forgetting to be more subtle with her eyes and thoughts.
Noticing Pyrrha's stare, Weiss let out a fake cough and averted her eyes, trying to conceal a blush. “I meant the forest, silly,” she said. “This is Forever Fall.”
Flushing red at being caught, Pyrrha quickly redirected her attention to the landscape.
Forever Fall–one of the main reasons why Weiss took a sword instead of a ring on her hand. Despite the ravages wrought by the dark magic of the Witch's grasp, the forest now brimmed with vitality, its shades of green and brown rekindled. It was as if the darkness claws had never left their mark.
"It's odd," Weiss said, thoughtfully, "Even after reclaiming my rightful place as a Schnee, distancing myself from my past, I still feel like like an outsider. I can hardly remember the ‘me’ before the war."
Pyrrha chewed on those heavy words for a moment before she spoke, “But you fought for this. To become Weiss Schnee again and to take pride in that name as you once did.” she reminded her. “You're not returning home as an exile, but as a hero who has cleared her name. Life will go back the way it was before your father stole from you.”
"I'm forever grateful to you and all those who stood by me," Weiss said, her eyes fixed on the distant houses lighting up at dusk. "But perhaps…it is I who have changed."
After a silence fell, Pyrrha's lips curved upwards in a faint smile, "In my land, a lowborn like me would spend his entire life toiling for some highborn family, serving as their cupbearer or whatever they demanded,” she said with a shrug.
It was the fate of any–Dragonborn or not–without noble blood coursing through their veins. But Pyrrha refused to accept such a destiny, chosing instead to seek something else. Something more far from that place.
"And now, look at how far you've come," Weiss beamed, her eyes shining with an unadulterated joy. A smile that surpassed the one she had over the news about the Witch’s death. "A war hero."
Pyrrha returned the smile, though more dejectedly. "I only made it this far because of you–"
"Stop," Weiss cut in, her Warden voice emerging. "It is because you've earned it."
She took Pyrrha's hands, their eyes meeting, "Our blood is the same shade of red, remember?"
For a brief moment, Pyrrha was taken aback by her reaction, but then she squeezed Weiss's hands in return. She was feeling somewhat foolish for forgetting their sacred trust, and what it meant for Weiss.
"I do," she murmured softly, "I found you, and you found me."
Cresting the last rise, there was no path to ascend any higher. Pyrrha's sharp eyes caught a glimmer in the forest below, near the river.
A blue patch? Her thoughts lingered briefly before Weiss's familiar touch on her shoulder brought her back to the present moment. She knew what that signal meant, and she acted upon it and closed her eyes.
Deep in her chest, the embers stirred. At first, just a wisp of smoke dancing beneath her skin. Then heat, creeping through her veins like wildfire spreading. Membranes ripped free from muscle and sinew with a wet tearing sound. Her back arched, claws digging furrows in the cold earth.
When at last her eyes opened, the surroundings was alight with an inner glow cast from crimson wings spreading behind her.
Their color was a considered a shame for her lineage, but ever since Weiss had called them beautiful, Pyrrha no longer saw them as a symbol of weakness. They were hers to wield with pride, never again to be used as a weapon against her.
She flapped experimentally, feeling new strength infused in membrane and bone. Weiss watched it all with eyes like chips of ice, cool yet curious. When the larger woman knelt before her, arms outreached and wings folded low in invitation, she climbed aboard without hesitation.
Soon, they were airborne, the Dragonborn carrying her precious passenger on swift-beating wings. Below, glens and gnarled trees receded, growing small as the mountains loomed large. The heights did not disturbed Weiss–cloaked as she was in her magic.
As the forest drew near, Weiss broke the silence with a confession. "I once envied your wings."
The words caught Pyrrha off guard, for she had never thought that Weiss could covet anything of hers.
"There was a young bird, years past," Weiss continued. "Each dawn it came to my windowsill for crumbs. At first, I hought It was its freedom. But truly, I envied its ability to fly on whimsy's wings."
"But the winds answer your call. You can still fly with your magic," Pyrrha pointed out.
"It's just not the same," Weiss said. "They miss their beauty. The charm 's grace. Winds cannot match wings."
"Won't your old gods have a say about their gifts being outmatched by bird wings?"
"I'm speaking the common tongue," Weiss said, closing her eyes to the blowing leaves. "They do not understand a single word that isn't elvish. Elitist snobs, in truth."
Elitists? Pyrrha couldn't help but laugh at Weiss's new humor–the very same Weiss who scoffed at any offenses against Gods or spirits. Forever changed since departing from home and Jacques Schnee’s hold.
"When did you become such a jokester?" Pyrrha asked fondly , enjoying this lighter side of Weiss.
A radiant smile lit Weiss's face, a rare beauty few witnessed. To Pyrrha, it embodied perfection. She instilled grace in every common thing, in every careless gesture. It was the first thing that tugged at Pyrrha's heartstrings.
"I do not know," Weiss said with a shrug, "perhaps you make me want to. Say things. Do things."
Pyrrha felt her own smile begin in her chest and spread to her eyes before settling on her lips, a bit more sheepishly than she had intended. "You also makes me want to say things."
Nestled on a snow-covered patch, cushioned by Weiss' magic, Pyrrha basked in the warmth of the sun's rays. They shared apples and tea that Weiss crafted, though Pyrrha still struggled to stomach such soft luxuries after years of meager rations.
Her eyes closed against the sunlight, her neck tilted back a little to relish the touch of warmth, an apple held in one hand and a mug balanced on her thigh. When Weiss's fingers traced the scar on her neck, Pyrrha opened her eyes to the low sun glaring over the mountains.
"Does it still pains you?" Weiss asked, her voice laced with concern.
Pyrrha smiled at the delicate touch. "No, now it just tickles."
"Oh! Forgive me–" Weiss started to withdraw her hand, but Pyrrha held it gently and pressed her palms together, warming Weiss's fingers with her own gloved ones.
"I never said it displeased me," Pyrrha assured her. "But no, not since the Witch's fall. Just like this forest, is healing with time."
Still, every time Pyrrha recalled their fierce battle against the Witch, an unease coursed through her soul. She had come close to losing her life while protecting Weiss from a wyvern's dive, only saved by the timely arrival of Jaune and Ruby. Now, at peace beside Weiss, it all seemed like a distant dream.
Weiss brought her back to reality by playfully pinching her cheeks. "I know you knights take pride scars, but I’ve no desire to see you in that state again."
Pyrrha's chest tightened as she remembered the vivid image of Weiss staunching her bleeding with tears streaming down her face. She was ready to sacrifice her own soul to heal Pyrrha's wounds. Witnessing the depth of her despair pained more than any flesh wounds.
“You won't,” Pyrrha squeezed Weiss' hands again, the best way she knew to show her resolve, “especially now that my former squire returned home.”
Weiss looked up, pensive. "Has he been knighted by the King?"
"I personally detailed his deeds, and he was honored," Pyrrha said with a proud smile. She reminisced about Jaune Arc, a young man who had washed ashore near her home with a burning desire to become her squire, despite lacking whatsoever with a sword. But he proved himself in the front lines just like Pyrrha had.
"He grew to be a good knight," Pyrrha said, remembering how Weiss had initially distrusted Jaune due to his fear of Grimm. "But it wasn't an easy journey. Thank you for trusting him."
"I trust your judgment," Weiss replied, "but I will be forever grateful that he returned you to me."
Weiss smiled lopsidedly, a smile that sent Pyrrha's heart a flight . She masked it behind her usual teasing grin, until it paid off in a blush from Weiss. Her graced porcelain skin and pointed ears above her silk-wrapped scarf turned pink.
"It's unfair," Pyrrha said with a sarcastic sigh. "They say scars signify character, bravery, honor...and yet you hold all of that without one. Like a young white serpent; sharp yet beautiful in—”
"A serpent?" Weiss arched an eyebrow, causing Pyrrha to shrink under her intense gaze despite towering over her in every way. "Your sense of beauty clearly differs from my own."
Pyrrha raised her hands defensively, "B-but they are endearing, truly. Have you seen, huh, illustrations? They're soft and squishy to the touch, and…" Pyrrha lowered her eyes, shrinking even more under Weiss' suspicious glare"...a tad cold due to their blood."
"Oh, I see." Weiss' eyes slid closed for a second. She carefully set her food aside on the patch before she looked up to Pyrrha, scrutiny in her eyes. "Well, perhaps they are long-lost ancestors from my father's part of the family's tree," she chuckled at her own joke.
Pyrrha chuckled as well, partly at Weiss' jest and partly at how much she could joke about her past now. "I wouldn't put it past him." she said.
As their laughter died down, Pyrrha felt warmth spread through her hand as Weiss entwined their fingers. Their gesture was common between them, but something felt different. An unspoken tension simmered in her gaze and touch, but Pyrrha chose to ignore it.
Weiss took a deep breath, her smile soft as she gripped Pyrrha's hand tightly, lifting both of them off the ground in silence. The breeze stilled around them, leaving only the distant sound of the river and the chirping of birds to fill their ears, alongside Pyrrha's racing heartbeat.
Weiss asked for her presence, even after releasing her from her duties as her champion and partner. And now, it seemed like the time to reveal why.
"Pyrrha," Weiss began, barely above a whisper, yet Pyrrha could feel the weight of each word. "There is something I seek to share with you. A sacred tradition from my kin."
Pyrrha's emerald eyes widened in surprise, for Weiss had kept her people's mysteries hidden, even from trusted allies. She fought to still her trembling hands and calm the bounding pulses of her heart as she waited for Weiss' revelation.
"It is known as the Eternal Vow," Weiss continued, her voice small and caring. "For us elves, it surpasses promises or the oaths you are familiar with. It is a holy vow, binding two souls together for eternity. To stand together through centuries of peace and trials alike."
Pyrrha raised an eyebrow at her, finding it strange how complicated she was treating such a simple thing. "The oath I took for you was until my death, so it was also a binding."
Weiss shook her head gently, blushing as her eyes fell away briefly. "No, this is…more."
Dread shot through Pyrrha's at Weiss' words, her mind whirling with hope and fear alike.
Could this be...out of love?
No, she would have to give up her nobility and status to marry someone like Pyrrha, someone so much below her station. The traditions they clung to, despite the changes wrought by Weiss and her sister, still held sway. Even after helping saving the realm, she would never be accepted fully. Pyrrha had come to terms with that, burying any romantic feelings as an idle fantasy for Weiss' sake.
And yet, why else would she share this?
"Pyrrha," Weiss continued, her voice quivering ever so slightly but her eyes glowing resolute. “I've long sought words to describe what you mean to me. How you've changed me. How you've brought light to the darkest corners of my past."
Pyrrha struggled to stay steady as a storm raged through her very being "Weiss, you can't..."
Weiss silenced her with a gentle touch of a finger to Pyrrha's lips, her eyes imploring for her to listen further.
"I've relinquished all my titles and inheritance." Weiss smiled, brushing aside the gravity of thode words. As though it were nothing. As though she was not surrendering all that she had painstakingly built upon a lifetime of battles and struggles.
After all you've achieved…you're still chosing me...
Weiss' heart exuded a calming light, mirroring the hue of her soul, her magic. As the wind enveloped them, Pyrrha's eyes widened in awe. Countless questions surged within her, yet her lips remained sealed. Emotions she had long believed extinguished resurfaced, urging her to yield to their embrace once more; they implored her to heed the call of her heart.
"I thought to wait centuries or more until I was certain your feelings mirrored mine. Until I was sure our bond was more than an oath between a princess and her knight." Weiss said. "But Ruby and Yang showed me life's fleeting beauty. The grace of living each day as if it were our last—something utterly foreign to me, until I found you."
Weiss stepped nearer, light washing over her and enveloping Pyrrha in an embrace. She was offering her soul, giving herself willingly for Pyrrha to keep it. To accept her feelings.
"That is why I love you. Why I choose you to share my eternity," Weiss declared, words caressing the air between them. “If you'll have me, of course.”
Tears gathered in Pyrrha's eyes at Weiss' devotion to her. Nothing filled her soul's desire more than Weiss alone. For in her embrace, Pyrrha found her true self.
“I…never thought myself to be special. I was an ordinary girl living an ordinary life. I never sought grand monuments for my deeds, and I never yearned for my name to grace the stars I gazed upon each night. Being your knight, your sword and shield, your wings, was enough for me." Pyrrha finally spoke her heart. "Until the day I fell in love with you, Weiss, and my world changed since then."
Pyrrha grazed Weiss' brow in a touch of intimacy meant for none but each other. As Weiss' magic touched her soul, Pyrrha could feel her emotions pouring within, and she silently swore to keep them safe inside her heart.
"Since pledging my oath that night, you've been my dream," Pyrrha whispered, smiles blooming shy upon their faces as the world disappeared inside their little moment.
Weiss' eyes fluttered shut, granting leave for Pyrrha to turn back time, to retrieve that first light within her heart that she had shunned.
With a gentle touch to Weiss' cheek, Pyrrha leaned in cautiously, every muscle taut with longing. Their lips' meeting fell soft as wandering snowflakes against warming skin.
It started snowing lightly as they stood there, weightless flakes that dance in capricious gusts and then settle immaculate on the frozen ground. It felt like the kindness of a blessing, a spell whispered by winter for a journey without an end.
Forever and always, for thousands of years.