#thmeridian

Well, that was a loaded choice. Either they’d swim out to the island and she'd arrive looking like a drowned poodle, hair plastered to her scalp, clothes clinging in all the wrong places—or they'd charter a little boat and she'd risk puking her guts out before they even reached shore. Between nausea and humiliation, it was hard to decide which fate was kinder.

Still, Aurelia straightened her shoulders and took a steadying breath. She’d faced worse than a little seasickness—or a bad hair day. This was Zidane’s family. The people who’d shaped him, the ones who’d known him long before she had. If they were going to share a life together, she wanted to meet them properly—to look them in the eye and prove that she cared enough to endure a miserable trek and a churning stomach for the chance to be welcomed among them.

"Yes, absolutely, I do want to meet them." Her voice came out a touch too quickly, too eager, and she winced at herself before softening the edges with a small laugh. "I’m just…a little nervous, is all."

She twisted a loose strand of blonde hair around her finger, eyes flicking toward the island on the horizon rather than his face. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to—gods, she’d thought about this moment far too often on their hike to the port town—but there was a weight to meeting someone’s family, a different kind of vulnerability than she was used to. What if they didn’t like her? What if she said something wrong?

But then she glanced back at him, at the bright blue eyes than never failed to calm the fire inside her. Her heart steadied, warmth blooming in her chest. "I want to make a good impression," she added softly, almost shyly. "They raised someone I love very much. The least I can do is show them how much that means to me. So, how much Lien to charter a vessel?"

a new arrival today. she wasn't one of the girls who arrived in the way scarlett did, the ones promised a warm bed, food, shelter from the cold. she was one of the OTHER girls. one of the ones brought in from some shady trafficking ring that sold warm bodies across the kingdom borders in the criminal underworld. she had the unfortunate knowledge of knowing more than she wants to about that particular grimy part of angelo's business, being his favorite girl and the only one who's stuck around longer than a year. some girls ran away, some managed to get some client to buy out their debt, and others...

her fists close tight around the paper in her hands. she can hear angelo barking orders down the hall at some of the men bringing in a cage. a CAGE. that was unusual. usually it would be a line of girls cuffed together at the wrists and ankles like a prison chain gang. what kind of girl did he buy that he has to keep her in a cage... and why does it make her stomach twist in uncomfortable knots, not too unlike the days angelo starves her as punishment?

" throw her in that room - YES, leave her in the cage, you fucking moron! " angelo barks at some delivery boy who's probably not much older than scarlett herself, " that stupid bitch ripped apart the last idiot who bought her. do you really think i'm gonna risk it? "

he seems to finally notice he's being watched, by her specifically, and cold, golden eyes turn to look at her. he smiles that sickly sweet, fake as hell smile, catching a brief look of his single gold tooth. just like everything else about angelo gold, even his teeth had to have some kind of flashy, gaudy show of wealth... even if scarlett questioned his taste. " pixie, " he purrs. that name he uses for her sends shivers down her spine, and not the kind that felt good, " we have a new girl. name's bunny. be a gem and take care of her once she's calmed down, yeah? "

he's already gone, lighting one of his pre-rolled cigarettes up in his mouth before she can reply. not that she could say ' no ' anyway. that was how it worked here. angelo ran the place, fleur made sure the clients paid, mama rosa took care of the girls, and scarlett... she was the one who did everything else angelo didn't want to give to fleur. the one who stepped in and took every punishment for the other girls, always taking the blame even when angelo knew she was lying. it was how it worked here at the velvet halo.

An exasperated puff of air escaped parted lips. As if her status as a Schnee (or lack there of) mattered in whatever this was. The question felt personal and one she wasn't even sure she wanted to answer. you don't look like a Schnee. "And what gave that away? Is it the eyes?" She mocked, crossing her arms over her chest. Every member of the Schnee family had their signature blue eyes - except for Weiss. Who bore the eyes of gold. One look at her and you would assume that Jacques Schnee had an affair with Willow. But unfortunately, that was not true.

It was her tenth birthday when she learned she was adopted, one that she doubted her father had intended her to hear. However, she had, her parents voices carried and she overheard them talking about how she wasn't their daughter. But as a child, she thought nothing of it, despite knowing that she was different from Winter and Whitley. Despite the treatment she received from someone who she had called father for so many years. It didn't matter now, now she didn't have to be subjected to their rules, their embarrassment at being seen with her.

Aurelia exhales slowly as she paces outside the office door, sandals squeaking against the polished floor in tight, restless arcs. She knows she has to do this. She has known it since the moment the plan was laid bare in front of her in Mistral, since Atlas closed its skies and Solitas became a fortress behind Ironwood’s walls of protocol. Knowing, however, does nothing to make it easier.

They need a way to Solitas. They need to get the Lamp to Atlas before Ironwood’s tightening web of restrictions strangles every remaining route in and out of the kingdom. Airships are locked down. Civilian travel is suspended. Military convoys are being watched, logged, and vetted to death.

But there is one loophole left.

The Krome fleet.

Cobalt Krome, Cerulean’s younger brother, controls one of the largest private fleets on Remnant. His vessels cross every ocean, dock in every kingdom, and operate under a labyrinth of corporate treaties and trade protections that even Atlas would hesitate to challenge outright. If anyone can get a small group and a very dangerous Relic across the sea, it’s Cobalt. But of course, to reach Cobalt…she has to go through Cerulean.

That bitter irony sits heavy in her chest.

Because Cerulean Krome is not just a powerful industrialist or a convenient political gatekeeper. He is the man she left standing at the altar nearly seventeen years ago. The man she humiliated in front of all of high society, whose future she shattered with a single, irreversible, selfish choice. One moment she was supposed to become Mrs. Krome; the next, she was gone, vanishing from his life and leaving him with nothing but silence and unanswered questions.

Brother of Light above…of all the people in Remnant, it had to be him.

Aurelia stops pacing, folding her arms around herself as if she can physically hold her ribs together. Her fingers curl into the fabric of her sleeves, knuckles tight. She can already picture him on the other side of that door—composed, immaculate, carved from restraint and ice. Cerulean never did anything halfway. He would be polite. Controlled. Devastating.

And she would have to ask him for help.

That’s why she sent everyone else away. Qrow. Maria. Ozpin. The kids.

She couldn’t do this with witnesses. Couldn’t let them see how badly this still tears at her, how deep this old scar runs, how part of her still aches with the weight of what she did. This isn’t about guilt, she tells herself. This is about the Lamp. This is about Victoria. This is about keeping the people you love alive.

Still, the past waits just beyond that door, wearing Cerulean Krome’s face. And after one last, trembling breath, Aurelia reaches for the handle and steps inside.

The door clicks shut behind her with a final, echoing weight that makes her flinch and for a second she just stands there, taking in the view of the office.

“…Cerulean,” she says softly, his name tasting strange and old on her tongue. She swallows, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “It's...nice to see you again. Thank you for taking this meeting with me.”

The Vacuoan sun was merciless, scorching Aurelia's skin through layers of metal topped leather armor and white cotton, making every breath a dry rasp that scraped her throat raw. Golden eyes stung from the dust in the air, scanning the endless dunes for any hint of movement. Any sign that Grimm might be lurking, ready to strike. Her chest ached with each step, her legs heavy as if filled with lead, yet she couldn’t stop—not while the desert itself seemed to shimmer with unseen threats.

Sweat flowed in rivers down her back, soaking the fabric of her clothing until it clung like a second skin, damp and uncomfortable. Her fingers itched to strip off her armor, to let air reach her burning flesh, but the thought of leaving herself exposed while on patrol made her stomach twist with unease. Every shadow, every ripple of sand could conceal danger. She had to stay vigilant, even if her body begged her to collapse. But even in her stubbornness, her knees wobbled, and her vision blurred. She stumbled, heart thumping, a sharp dizziness threatening to topple her into the unyielding sand.

He’s trying to scare me, Percy realized, amused. As though posturing could mean anything to someone who’d already seen worse monsters than him break. There was no fear to be found, not even a flicker. Just quiet calculation.

“No, not a threat,” Percy muttered, a humorless smile tugging at his mouth. “Consider it a warning. She brings trouble—you’ll see. She doesn’t want to, but somehow, she always does. It’s like she can’t help it.”

Percy’s footsteps echoed lightly across the cave floor, each one measured, deliberate. He wasn’t looming — not yet — but the way he moved made it feel inevitable, like gravity slowly drawing the world toward him. His gloved fingers traced the edge of a nearby table before he spoke again.

And then, almost involuntarily, his mind drifted back to the trip — the one to see Zidane’s family. Aurelia had been radiant, all warmth and light, unaware of how closely he followed their steps, how easily he could trace their route, observe their interactions from the shadows. He had lingered near the edge of the village and the island, hidden in plain sight, drinking in the way she laughed with Zidane’s family, how she tilted her head when he teased her, the slight flush of color on her cheeks when she felt caught in a moment of happiness.

He began to circle Zidane now, not quite predatory, but with the patient grace of someone taking the measure of an opponent.

“I know her,” Percy continued, almost tenderly — though the softness in his voice felt like a blade wrapped in silk. “Better than she knows herself. And I’ve seen what happens to the ones who think they can save her. They start with good intentions. Always. But good intentions make mighty fine kindling." Percy continued. “You think she’s your light. Something pure, something worth holding onto. But she’s drawn to chaos, to fire. It’s in her nature. She’ll pull you into it and she won’t even mean to.”

"Of course I have a problem with it! Why else would I be upset? For fun!?"

Aurelia’s voice cracked with the force of her yell, hands balling into fists before she snapped them up to cross tightly over her chest. Her foot tapped against the ground, the sound almost as loud as the rush of blood in her ears. This was something she refused to back down on anymore.

How many times had it been now? How many close calls, how many wounds and bloodied clothes had she watched him come back with? Zidane always threw himself into danger without a second thought—whether it was to protect something or someone. Noble, maybe. But moronic all the same.

He risked his life for people who wouldn’t even blink if he didn’t come back. For people who couldn’t possibly care the way she did. And that knowledge? It burned. It clawed at her chest, a bitter heat that left her heart aching and her temper blazing. She hated it. Hated how easily he put himself in danger. Hated how much she cared that he did. And most of all, she hated that he didn’t seem to understand what it did to her every single time.

"You think it's easy for me seeing you hurt every single time you do something like this?"

Vermillion let out a low, amused breath as her claws bit into the wall beside his head. He didn’t struggle—didn’t even tense. If anything, he leaned into her space just enough to make the closeness even more intentional.

“Overseas?” he echoed softly, a smile tugging at his mouth. “And miss all this?” His gaze flicked briefly to the clawed hand at his shoulder, then back to her eyes, unflinching. “That’d be a terrible waste.”

He tilted his head, voice dropping into something smoother, more honest beneath the teasing. “You think I don’t know what you could do to me? What you might do to me?” A quiet chuckle. “If fear were enough to scare me off, I’d have run the first time you bared your teeth.” His tone gentled, just a fraction. “I keep coming back because you’re not just taking—you’re building. Because you don’t bluff. Because maybe I like when you look at me like that, like you’re trying to decide whether I’m a liability…or an asset worth keeping close.”

Vermillion’s smile turned almost fond. “And maybe,” he added lightly, his hand moving slowly to rest gently on her waist, “I like standing near dangerous women who know exactly what they want.”