Summary: As a girl, she dreamt of a day where each one is different from the last.

The Dragon Slayer

Written from the perspective of Yang Xiao Long

Dinner's getting cold.

I've made him his favorites: hamburgers, fries, and assorted sides. It was hard to set up the grill. Some droplets of hot oil pricked my bandages when I was using the deep fryer. It's fine. It was my fault. I cleaned it up. He won't be mad. I hope he won't be mad.

The door opens.



Another broken vase.

He's been drinking. Again.

I didn't hate it.

When he kisses me, his breath reminded me of Dad.

"Yang?" he slurs. "You there? Hic!"

"In the kitchen!" I answer back.

Waiting patiently, I stand up when he walks in. I bow. I'm wearing his favorite dress, just for him. It's long and red. A slit cuts up, exposing my thigh. I'm surprised it fits.

A dead woman's clothes.

He drops an emptied bottle on the floor. He works hard, so obviously he'd be stressed. I lower my gaze as he walks through. He eats a single fry. He comes over to me.

He smells of a bar in a bad side of town…

… and a familiar woman.

It didn't matter who it was this time, so long as I didn't mention it.

He picks up a burger, takes a bite, and spits it back out.

All of my hard work…

… I should have done it better.

"It's cold!" he screams, striking me hard across the face.

I deserve that.

My semblance doesn't activate. It never activates for him.

Ruby once said every hit makes me stronger.

But each of his makes me…

I collapse to my knees.

"Up," he orders softly. His hand strokes my cheek, wiping a bit of blood from my lip. "UP!"

I stand up.

His lips crush mine. There's a drunken word.


I didn't mind. It helps him relieve stress. I smile back in our bloody kiss.

"Daddy," I moan back.

The word angers him, like it usually does. He pulls me by the hair, up the stairs. He doesn't do me the honor of taking me on our bed. No. He takes me to the guest room.

Tonight, I won't be playing the part of Jaune Arc's wife.

Tonight, I will be playing the heroine, Pyrrha Nikos.

And as for Jaune… he's just…

"Daddy," I moan again as he roughly fondles me. "Daddy!"

He bends me over the bed. My knees graze the carpet. I could feel the cold night air. I could see the shattered moon through the open window. It must be illuminating my cute rear.

I press my cheek to the bed. I might as well get comfortable.

It could go on for hours.

Across the room, a large portrait of Pyrrha Nikos stares back at me like a mirror. I wish my arms were longer so I could take it down or flip it around.

I didn't want to see my face.

"You want this," my beloved tells me. It's the truth. I do. "You sick pervert! You want this!"

"Y-yes, Daddy!" I whimper.

He sends his love to me. I gasp. It's painful, but I love him all for it.

"P-Pyrrha," he says softly to my back. A brief respite and his girth is firm again. "Oh, Pyrrha."

His breath is ragged.

He hasn't been training regularly, if ever. He's never motivated. He has a bit of a belly. Even though he tires easily, he doesn't give up. That's what makes him so attractive to others, I suppose.

He's gentle when it comes to the dress. He slides it off me easily.

He's not so gentle with my skin.

"Pyrrha," he gasps again into my ear. His teeth nibbling it. "Tell me that you love me," "He's begging like a needy child.

"I love you."

It's his fantasy. It's what he wants. It makes him happy. And I am his lawful wife. Isn't it my duty to please him? To ensure that he is beloved and cared for and worshipped?

He grunts with each thrust.

I know his dreams well. He whispers them to me when we're connected. He wants to be that boy again. He wants to be the hero. He wants to be the one who slays the monsters and defeats the evil witch. He wants to be the silly ignorant child who thinks he can save the world.

Silly boy. Tonight's just like any other night. Tonight, he's just slaying a dragon.

His cherished beloved.

The one who walks down the alley towards him and say those two silly little words:

I do.

I close my eyes, letting the rhythm put me to a shallow slumber. Those were blissful times. The room is silent except for the sound of Jaune's thighs slapping against my own. If I held my breath, I could hear my own heartbeat rattling in my ribcage.

During this moments, I think of Dad and Mom… and Raven.

Did they love each other like this?

Did they kiss each other like this?

Did they embrace each other like this?

"Daddy," I mumble absentmindedly in pleasure. It feels good. It has to feel good. We were doing what adults do. It has to feel good. I wouldn't know otherwise. I've never been with anyone other than him.

One of my fingers reaches my lips.

I taste a bit of myself.

He collapses on top of me, wheezing, before starting up again.

I pout a bit, wishing he would hold me more during our lovemaking.

When the night is nearly done and dawn is almost here, I'm comfortably laying on the pillow. I took a few of my pills with some warm water. It helps get rid of my beloved's bitter taste. He likes it when I gaze up at him, with his hands pulling on my hair, with my mouth filled and my lungs gasping for air, with tears of pleasure streaming down my cheeks.

It puts a smile on his face. It puts a smile on my face, too.

His head rests on my chest and his hands grip them like a spoiled baby for his bottle. I stroke his hair. He's balding, slowly but surely.

Pulling the blanket over us, I snuggle close against him. He wasn't perfect, but he was mine. He buries his head deeper into my chest. I like to think that my heartbeat is his lullaby.

He's been growing scruff around his neck. The prickly stumbles. I like it. It feels nice, grazing my back, my neck, my lips.

It reminds me of Dad.

The Dragon Slayer Fin