[RWBY] The Great Temporal Step-Sibling War!

[AndrewJTalon]

- - -

The Vacuo safehouse was a tomb of silence in the dead of night: Sand whispering against the windows, the distant howl of wind the only company. Jaune Arc couldn't sleep. The Ever After clung to him like a second skin. Yang had reverted after, but him?

Maybe he was in a young man's body again, but his soul still felt old.

He wandered the halls barefoot, humming under his breath—a restless melody that had haunted him since their return.

"There must be some way out of here…"

"Said the joker to the thief," a familiar voice sang back, soft and almost bitter, from the kitchen.

The light glowed soft and golden. Jaune paused in the doorway.

"There's too much confusion..." Jaune sang.

Yang stood at the sink, back rigid, golden hair cascading loose like a waterfall of fire. Her hands gripped the counter's edge hard enough to dent metal. She sang the next verse: Low, frustrated, edged with pain.

"I can't get no relief," she grit out.

Jaune's heart twisted. "Couldn't sleep either?"

She didn't turn, but her shoulders hunched. "This stupid song. It's been looping in my head since we got back. Won't shut up."

He stepped closer, voice gentle. "Same here."

Yang finally faced him—lilac eyes shadowed, glistening with unshed tears she'd never let fall in daylight. The woman who burned bright enough to light up his entire world looked… small.

He reached out for her, but she pulled away. Hurt filled his eyes.

"Yang?" He whispered.

"I nearly killed you," she whispered, voice cracking like dry earth. "In that place… I was a monster. Mindless. And I almost—" Her fists clenched, nails biting palms. "I almost ended you. The man I love. And this damn song just keeps playing, like it's mocking me for failing you."

Jaune closed the distance slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal. "Yang… I forgive you. I forgave you-."

She laughed—wet, broken, furious. "You shouldn't. Damn it, Jaune, you shouldn't. I loved you—love you—and I hurt you. I could've taken everything from you. From us. And you just… let it go? Like it didn't rip your heart out?"

Her voice rose, trembling with the weight she'd carried alone.

'"Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth. None of them along the line know what any of it is worth-FUCK! Just... Stop it! STOP IT!"

Before he could reach for her, footsteps padded in.

Oscar Pine—eyes ancient with Ozma's weight—paused in the doorway, a sad chuckle escaping.

"I haven't heard that song in thousands of years," he said softly. "Curious how some things endure."

Jaune seized the brief reprieve. "You know it?"

Oscar nodded, moving to the window. Moonlight silvered his face as he sang-voice rich, layered with lifetimes of loss.

"There must be some way out of here," said the joker to the thief." There's too much confusion, I can't get no relief…"

Each verse carried centuries: weariness, defiance, the ache of inevitability.

"Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth. None of them along the line know what any of it is worth…"

"No reason to get excited," the thief, he kindly spoke. "There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke…"

"But you and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate. So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late…"

The chorus rose—haunting, eternal.

"All along the watchtower, princes kept the view. While all the women came and went, barefoot servants, too…"

"Outside in the distance, a wildcat did growl. Two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl."

The final note faded.

Yang's voice was barely a breath. "What… does it mean?"

Oscar turned, eyes distant. "Even I don't fully know. It was ancient when I was young. Salem loved it—played it in quieter moments. There's confrontation in it. Destiny approaching. Ominous, terrible… yet beautiful. I've wondered if the divine wrote it—an eternal rhyme of humanity's pull toward conflict."

He gave them a weary smile and slipped away, leaving them alone.

The silence stretched, thick with everything unsaid.

Jaune stepped closer—close enough to feel the heat radiating from her. He broke the quiet first.

"The problem isn't that I can forgive you, Yang."

She looked up, eyes shimmering. "Then what is it?"

"It's that you can't forgive yourself."

Yang's breath hitched. Tears spilled over, tracing hot paths down her cheeks.

"I should've been stronger," she whispered, voice breaking. "Better. I've carried everything-kept Ruby safe, let her grow into this amazing person. We beat Cinder at Haven, stopped a whole damn war. Got everyone out of Atlas. Denied Salem everything she wanted. We survived that hell in the Ever After and… and still I turned into a monster and nearly took you from me."

Jaune didn't speak. He simply wrapped his arms around her-tight, unyielding, like he could hold all her broken pieces together.

She resisted for a heartbeat-then shattered.

Yang clung to him, face buried in his shoulder, sobs tearing free-raw, wrenching, the kind she'd never allowed anyone to see. Her fingers dug into his shirt like he was the only anchor in a storm.

"You were never a monster," he murmured into her hair, voice thick. "Not to me. You were fighting—always fighting. Even when you lost yourself, you came back. For me. For us."

Her body shook harder. "I was so scared I'd lost you forever."

"You didn't," he said fiercely. "You won't. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

Outside, the first rays of dawn crept over the dunes: Soft gold painting the desert, chasing away the long night.

Inside, Yang cried until there were no tears left. Until the song in her head quieted, until the guilt loosened its grip just enough to breathe.

Jaune held her through it all.

And when the sun finally rose, they faced it together.

- - -


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xfaTEGGtVf8&list=RDxfaTEGGtVf8&start_radio=1

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Solitas, Atlas

- - -

The Schnee Dust Company's executive tower burned in the distance, Atlas's skyline fractured by the chaos of Salem's attempt to induce civil war. But in the abandoned sub-levels beneath the manor, the real betrayal unfolded.

Whitley Schnee—once the perfect heir, now hardened by months of quiet rebellion—stood beside Fafnir as Atlas authorities stormed Jacques's hidden vault. Evidence of embezzlement, worker exploitation, even ties to Watts's hacks—compiled by Whitley with Fafnir's silent aid and RWBY and JNOR's help securing the evidence—sealed Jacques's fate.

Jacques raged as cuffs clicked around his wrists. "You ungrateful whelp! And you—my own weapon—betraying me?"

Fafnir's red eyes were steady. "Debt's paid."

As the dragon turned to leave, his body locked. Eyes flickered unnatural green.

"Fafnir?!" Weiss cried.

"Override engaged," Watts's voice purred through hidden speakers. "Time to earn your keep, pet."

Fafnir's wings snapped open. His sword Knarra was unsheathed with the scream of high-frequency vibration.

Teams RWBY and JNOR charged into battle. Weiss hesitated.

"Fafnir—no!" She cried.

He didn't hear her. Watts's control was absolute.

The fight erupted in the manor's grand atrium—marble floors cracking under impacts, chandeliers shattering in Dust explosions.

Fafnir was a storm.

Wings buffeted hurricane winds. Knarra carved through Ruby's petals like paper and she barely evaded his strikes. His Terror Semblance rolled out in waves—Blake froze mid-shadow clone, Nora's hammer wavered, Ren's normally stoic face twisted in primal fear.

Even under mind control, he was merciless precision.

Yang charged first, gauntlets blazing. She was too angry to be afraid. "Snap out of it, you big lizard!"

Fafnir's claw caught her mid-punch, hurling her through a pillar. Weiss's glyphs shattered against his armor. Oscar used what little magic he had learned, but the spells barely slowed the cyborg down.

They were losing.

Jaune saw it—the way Fafnir's movements, though brutal, still carried that old warrior's economy. Watts was using him like a puppet, but the dragon's strength remained.

Jaune planted Crocea Mors point-down.

"Everyone—close in! I'm Amping!"

His Semblance flared gold, pouring into his teammates. Aura surged—wounds knitting, reserves refilling, fear blunted.

Fafnir sensed the shift. Watts's borrowed voice snarled through the mask's speakers.

"Priority target: the Amplifier."

Fafnir yanked Dust grenades from his belt—flash, smoke, concussive force-and unleashed them wildly. The blasts scattered the teams like leaves.

Jaune stood alone in the clearing smoke, coughing.

He'd counted on it.

Fafnir descended like judgment—wings flaring, Knarra screaming down in an overhead strike that could cleave a tank.

Jaune didn't dodge.

He stepped in, shield raised, and took the blow full-force. The impact drove him to one knee, Aura cracking—but he locked his arms around Fafnir's sword arm, holding the dragon in place.

Terror hit him like a tidal wave.

Every nightmare Jaune had ever buried—failing his team, watching them die, being too weak—flooded his mind in paralyzing clarity. His vision tunneled. His grip faltered.

Fafnir's free claw hammered down—once, twice—cracking ribs, splitting skin, even as Jaune's Aura flickered.

Jaune held on. He looked up into the eyes of the monster that had guarded Weiss most of her life.

Through blood in his mouth, he rasped, "You're… stronger… than this…"

The others recovered.

Yang and Weiss struck from the front—Ember Celica detonating against Fafnir's plating, Myrtenaster piercing and freezing joints with Ice Dust.

Ruby and Blake attacked from range—Crescent Rose's sniper rounds finding weak points, Blake using her Shadow clones to draw any attention while she fired on Fafnir with Gambol Shroud.

Ren slipped in close, Aura charged palms striking pressure points to disrupt motor control, while he fired shots from Stormflower to chip away at Fafnir's Aura.

Nora came from behind—Magnhild charged to maximum, hammer blow landing square between the wings.

The combined assault shattered Fafnir's defenses. His armor and knees buckled. His cybernetics sparked. Knarra fell from his nerveless fingers.

He dropped to his knees.

Watts's voice crackled, full of fury.

"Get up! Finish them!"

Fafnir's claw twitched toward the fallen sword.

"FAFNIR!" Weiss screamed.

His claw stopped.

"KILL THEM!" Watts bellowed.

With a roar of effort—pure will against the machines that made up his body—Fafnir seized Knarra's hilt...

And drove it through his own heart.

The blade punched clean through cybernetic chest plating, high-frequency edge cauterizing as it went.

He collapsed forward.

Weiss caught him—glyphs softening the fall, arms wrapping around the massive frame as he sagged. She kept him on his knees. She looked anxiously into his face, as Jaune struggled to get back up. Ruby was already applying Healing Dust.

"No, wait, I can help-!" Jaune gasped.

"You're coughing blood! Hold on!" Ruby shouted.

"Fafnir—!" Weiss cried.

His mask fell away. Watts's connection severed with a final electronic scream.

Red eyes met hers—clear, for the first time in a long time.

"I-I have Healing Dust, I can still-!" Weiss tried, but Fafnir shook his head.

"No... It's over..." he rasped, blood—real blood—bubbling at the corner of his ruined mouth.

Weiss's voice broke. "You idiot—why—"

Fafnir's eyes were almost soft.

"I swore... To protect you," he whispered. Whitley dropped down next to him, his eyes wide in disbelief. He glanced at Whitley, and nodded in approval.

"Always… remain strong." A claw—gentle now—brushed Weiss's cheek, careful of the metal tips, to wipe away her tears. "Apologize… for not being stronger. For not… ending him sooner."

His gaze drifted to the others—to Jaune, barely standing with Ruby's help. He nodded in respect to the blonde.

"At least… I die… a warrior. Not… a slave."

His hand fell.

The red glow faded.

Weiss held him as the massive body went still—tears cutting clean tracks through dust and blood on her face.

She didn't know what she felt.

Grief for the monster who'd protected her from childhood.

Rage at the father who'd forged him into a weapon.

Relief that the dragon had chosen his own end.

All of it tangled, raw and aching.

Yang laid a hand on her shoulder. Ruby knelt beside her, silent. Jaune joined her. Weiss looked into his eyes, the sobs breaking free. She leaned into his touch as he held her.

They stayed there until the authorities came—until the snow began to fall through the shattered skylight above.

Fafnir Volsung, last of his clan, died free.

And Weiss Schnee grieved for the complicated truth of it all.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Beacon, Vale

- - -

The party was in full swing, laughter and music spilling out from every corner of the common room like an overfilled punch bowl. Yang had to admit—it was fun. A bit overwhelming, sure, with the lights flashing and bodies packed in tighter than Grimm in a cage, but fun. Still, it was pushing the limits for her, and definitely too much for Ruby.

Which is why her blood ran hot when she spotted her little sister snagging a beer from the cooler, popping the tab with that innocent curiosity of hers.

Ruby lifted the can, sniffing it curiously. "Huh... Fruity and smells... Ugh! But...!"

Yang wasn't about to let that happen. She strode over, her hand shooting out to snatch the can just before it touched Ruby's lips. "Yeah, no."

Ruby's eyes widened in surprise. "What?! Hey!"

Yang glanced at the label, her eyebrows shooting up. "A 5% can, maybe, but not a 20% one! With your size, you'd be drunk before you even finished it."

Ruby scowled and grabbed it back. "I'm a Huntress in Training! I can have some!"

Yang reached for it again. "Ruby, you're not listening to me, that stuff is—"

"I don't care!" Ruby yanked it away, her glare sharp and defiant. "You can't just dump raising me the moment we get here and then keep pretending you're my MOM! You're NOT!"

The words hit like a sucker punch. Yang flinched, her growing anger snuffed out in an instant. She raised her hands, expression neutral, voice quiet.

"Okay, if that's how it is, then that's how it is." She turned away. "I'll be outside."

Ruby glared after her, then turned back to the can. She took a swig, making a face but forcing it down. "Gruhh...!"

Outside, the night air was a welcome relief, stars twinkling overhead like scattered jewels, the wind carrying just enough chill to cut through the haze in Yang's mind. She leaned against the railing, feeling... empty. Drained. Like the fight had taken more out of her than she'd expected.

"Uh... Oh, hey Yang."

Jaune stepped out beside her, a beer in hand, leaning on the railing next to her. He offered it with a small smile. "You okay?"

Yang took it, managing a half-hearted wave. "Hey VB, what brings you out here? Last I checked, Weiss-Queen and your partner were somewhere back in there."

Jaune shrugged. "Eh... I gave up on Weiss. Pyrrha is having fun with Nora. And uh... Well, it's nice out here. I wanted to see the stars and moon."

He wasn't fooling anyone, but Yang let it slide. She cracked open the beer—'Olive Branch's custom canned moonshine'—and chuckled at the irony. "I'm doing about as well as someone can be in my position."

Jaune nodded. "... I heard what happened with Ruby." He sighed. "I'm sorry."

Yang took a sip, the burn steadying her. "It's not your fault VB. Or is it?"

He panicked a little under her mock glare, and she laughed, easing up. "Honestly, this has been a long time coming."

"Yeah... Family, huh?" Jaune sighed, sipping his own beer before downing half in one go. "It's always complicated with them."

"Oh?" Yang turned to him, curious. "I didn't peg you for someone who's got familial trouble."

"Pfft... Trust me, I have plenty." He drank more, pulling out two extra cans from his pouches. He handed one to her, and she accepted it. "My mom wanted me to be a doctor, and bullied my dad into agreeing. Treated me like glass, basically planned out my entire life for me and never let me have any choice. We fought over it, and... I just had to leave."

He shook his head.

"Now? Now... I get why they tried to protect me but... It's still my choice."

Yang nodded. "So despite knowing why they did what they did, you're still angry with them."

Jaune nodded. Yang smirked.

"Good." At his confusion, she explained. "Look VB, just because they got a reason for doing all that doesn't mean you have to forgive'em. Understand it, sure, accept it, most definitely, but forgive it, nah. You have every right to not agree with what they did, and be upset with them because of it."

"But... I want to forgive them." He sighed. "I just... I don't like being angry with my parents."

Yang placed a hand on his shoulder. "Look, I'm not saying you have to be angry with them forever, I'm just saying it's okay to be upset with them. The same goes for forgiving them, if that's what you want to do then that's what you want to do, I'm just saying that it's okay not to. You're allowed to have those options, to feel those kinds of feelings, and make those kinds of choices."

Jaune squeezed her hand. "... Well... So are you. With Ruby."

Yang sighed and looked back out at the stars. "Yeah... I guess..." She shook her head. "She's growing up, like you said... And without her, well... I don't know what I'm going to do."

Jaune was silent, staring intently at her. Yang shrugged.

"I mean... I didn't plan on her being here, you know? I planned on being... Free."

Jaune opened his mouth, and Yang held up her hand.

"I-I don't mean that I dislike her or-or anything but-!"

"You just wanted to be yourself, rather than her mom," Jaune said softly. Yang flushed, and looked back out at the sky. She sipped her beer.

"... Yeah," she murmured. "So I tried to get her to fend for herself, first day... Then we ended up on the same team and, well..." She shrugged. "I can't get away... But now she's doing her own things and..."

Yang huffed.

"I've made my choice but..."

"Still hurts and sucks, huh?" Jaune asked. Yang nodded. "Yeah... I get it."

"Why do you think I'm telling you all this?" She smirked. "I already made those choices."

"So, you can make new ones," Jaune said, "And... You know, I can help you. Since I'm figuring this out, too."

Yang snickered.

"When did you get so wise?"

"Getting my ass kicked a lot either means you figure stuff out, or keep getting beat down," Jaune observed. Yang snickered.

"Yeah... Still..." Yang rested her head on her palm. "Considering some of the stuff I wanted to do, I'm not too sure about that."

"What did you want to do?"

Yang looked around to make sure they were alone, then turned beat red. "This doesn't leave this balcony, okay." When he didn't answer quick enough: "Okay?!"

"I swear, I swear!"

She sighed, resigned. "I wanted to go on a date with someone... maybe even finally kiss someone."

"... Oh?"

She pouted and half-buried herself in her arms as she leaned on the railing. "I just never had time for all that stuff, okay?"

"No no, I get it..." Jaune took a deep breath. "So... The Emerald Festival is happening next week."

"Yeah, what of it?"

"I was thinking of going to the dance pavilion since there are some good bands there... You... Want to go? With me?"

Yang's eyes widened. "Are you..." Disbelief colored her voice. "asking me out?"

Jaune laughed a little in disbelief, nodding. "Yeah. I am. This is probably the most we've talked, Yang. And... And I really liked it. I want to get to know you better, and have fun with you."

She blinked, then narrowed her eyes as her grin widened. "You're serious, aren't you? You really want to go out... with me."

"Why wouldn't I?"

Yang tried to come up with an answer, but couldn't. "Heh..." A fire lit inside her, and she turned to him with that adventurous smile. "Well, when you put it like that, how could I say no." Excitement built in her nod. "So yeah, let's do it!"

Jaune grinned, taking her hand. "Great!" She stepped forward to clap him on the shoulder.

Of course, with the alcohol they'd been nursing, her feet didn't cooperate as they should have.

"Oh shit." Yang stumbled, falling on top of him—or as much as one could on a small balcony.

"OOF!"

Silence. Then:

"Huh, you'd make for a surprisingly comfortable pillow, VB."

"Oof! I... Uh... You're... Better pillow material... I think..."

"Oh?~" She pressed her chest into his, making him realize just how on top she was. "Were you hoping we'd land the other way around, so you can get a face full of these?"

Jaune gulped. He looked her in the eyes, then at her nose.

"... Yes. Yes I was."

Yang's face exploded into dark red. She laughed nervously.

"Well aren't you bold today."

"I'm drunk with a hot girl who's going on a date with me... On top of me... Should I... Not be?"

"Depends." She leaned in close to his ear and whispered. "On whether you're a good boy or not.~" Leaning back, she kept her face close. "So, tell me, have you been a good boy?~"

Whether it was alcohol or his newfound confidence, he grinned nervously back at her.

"What if I'm bad?" He leaned in to breathe in her ear, softly running his hand through her hair.

She raised an eyebrow. "You know I've beaten up people for less, right?" She gestured to his hand.

"Yup. I know. But it's super soft and beautiful. You can kill me after the date?"

Yang smiled that mega-watt smile even through her blush.

"Sounds good to me, VB! Now..." She rested her head on his chest. "mind getting the both of us up? Pretty sure, not even you wanna be caught like this in front of everybody."

"Okay... Okay... Hang on..." He pushed himself up against her, wrapping an arm around her waist. He got them into a sitting position, her in his lap. "Okay... Okay... We're... Up... Sort of..."

"Oh yes, there's nothing quite like getting the girl who was laying on top of you into your lap, am I right, VB?" She asked sarcastically, but with amusement. "Especially, when said position gets you a face full of boobs and her straddling your waist."

"Well... I'd be a fool to disagree with you."

"Yes, yes you would."

- - -

First timeline's viewpoint of The Party! Go ahead and try to write your own! This one written with a lot of help from @RedDragonEmpress

 

[digcat]

First timeline's viewpoint of The Party! Go ahead and try to write your own! This one written with a lot of help from @RedDragonEmpress

Click to shrink...

It was great and has me really excited for pyrrha's the only thing better than blondes is redheads.

 

[John Jackson]

I wonder in how many of the time lines the kids regard Pyrrha as a sad old maid only because they don't know what she gets up to with there parents… except Blake's kids they know all to well

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The sound of hammers striking anvils echoed in the distance.

"Hurry up Dad! The show is starting!" the ten year old Leandra and Leander squealed in tandem as they pulled Jaune along to the bigtop tent of the circus.

"Slow down, we still have plenty of time," Weiss chided her son as the three of them ascended the stairs of the opera house.

"Not if we want to get good seats," young Xander objected as he pulled the movie theater's doors open, "Half the people in this town don't respect the assigned seating on the ticket."

"It will be fine Petra," Jaune reassured his eldest as he accepted a program from one of the ushers that summarized the acts of the play.

"I hope the auditorium isn't too packed," May worried. "This is supposed to be the show of the century after all."

"Oh! Can we get something at the concessions stand?" Julian asked as he tried to pull Jaune in that direction.

"There's no need for that Xia," Yang placed her hand on her daughter's shoulder as she redirected the young girl back to the auditorium's doors. She then opened her jacket for a moment to show the half dozen bags of gummy worms she was smuggling into the venue, "We have all the refreshments we'll need for the show."

With that Jaune, Emerald and Amethyst entered the theater proper and found their seats. With that the curtains were pulled back, and the ballet began.

Sword clashed with sword up on the silver screen as the animated heroes tangled with the animated villains while in the distance hammers struck anvils to the beat of the music.

The animated visage of a Ronin and Knight clashed over a wounded Kunoichi during sunset at a freight train station, automated locomotives hauling massive loads of cargo barreling through on the tracks the two warriors dueled upon.

"Your story ends this day by my hand!" The Ronin screamed as the Knight weathered the furious flurry of strikes and slashes the Ronin sent his way, a new train looming in the distance even as it headed straight towards the two of them at unstoppable speeds.

A hammer strikes the anvil in the distance.

The stage crew truly outdid themselves on producing the set; it was the perfect blend of abandoned factory and demented laboratory. The Knight, his Snow Angel and their friends stood aghast as the Mad Scientist fluttered down from the catwalks on insectoid wings, flanked on both sides by soulless tin soldiers bearing the faces of heroes that died in the war.

"Can you not see?" The insect faunus sang as more and more soulless tin soldiers emerged from the shadows in choreographed dance, "Can you not see the future I bring? The Lost retuned! Their voices restored! The Maidens Four is all I require, and I shall give these shells true desires! All they are missing is one final piece! The power to rend the veil hiding what we seek! The meek reforged with bodies of steel, I just need to add souls to the deal! Will you not bring back what was lost to you? Or will I need to reforge you to?"

A hammer strikes the anvil in the distance.

The camera swooped through the sky towards the clocktower where two women of power were locked in a deadly clash. The Burning Warlock was wreathed in flames as her swords of glass raked across the War Goddess' shield. Their dance of death moved all about the clocktower's roof, the bells of the tower ringing out the hour even as The Knight and Sniper rushed as fast as they could up its steps.

The bells toll. The bells toll and there is no way they can get there before they stop.

A hammer strikes the anvil in the distance.

The puppets are exquisite works of ceramics and wood, moving about on strings pulled by true masters of the art of puppetry. The voice the puppeteer gives The Scorpion Assassin is chillingly accurate, the manic laughter truly capturing his madness as he chased The Good Witch and The Young Reaper through the caves.

"Leave me," The Good Witch instructed even as the Young Reaper supported most of her weight.

"NO!" The Young Reaper firmly objected, "I'm not going to let someone else die for me again!"

A hammer strikes the anvil in the distance.

A beautifully animated panorama of an abandoned temple complex of a culture lost to time filled the screen. These ruins had found a new use under new ownership. Lanky humanoid creatures that resemble Grimm yet aren't truly Grimm patrolled the halls and man the walls. A woman in a grey dress with a crimson belt that matches her curly hair made her way to the central chamber with black ichor flowing from her eyes like tears. As each black teardrop fell from her face and hit the ground it grew and coalesced into a miniature version of the lanky humanoid not-Grimm, with these small monsters scurrying off to join their more developed kin in protecting the perimeter.

The grey dressed woman frowned as she finally entered the sacrificial room of the dark temple, scowling ominously as she looked upon her guest.

Stripped of her cloak a silver eyed woman lay bound and gagged upon an altar. Those silver eyes glared with a mix of defiance, indignation and just a hint of fear.

"Your mother took my first home from me, then I was given a new one by my Queen. Then you! You took my Queen from me," The grey dressed woman accused the bound silver eyed woman. "And by taking her from me you took everything else. It's only fitting that you should be involved in bringing her back to me."

She looked off into the distance, sensing her minions engaging in combat with The White Knight and The Golden Woman who possessed the fury of a dragon.

"They won't get here before I'm done," The grey dressed woman mutters as she opened a box full of knives, carefully selecting the one she wished to start with.

A hammer strikes the anvil in the distance.

The fog machine rolled mist across the stage giving the impression of water flowing uphill. A Knight and Nun knelt next to this bizarre river even as muppets were used to simulate the unusual flora and fauna of the nonsensical jungle the two of them had found themselves in.

"So that was The Cat," The Nun was frowning in contemplation. "Did something seem... off... about him to you too?"

A hammer strikes the anvil in the distance.

The camera showed the Blinded Knight and his Spartan standing back to back, blades drawn as the Burning Warlock advanced on one flank while the Scorpion Assassin's understudy advanced on the other.

"Should we take her eyes too? Make them a matching pair?" The Understudy wondered aloud.

"No games," The Burning Warlock hissed, "We just take their lives!"

"Works for me!" The Understudy cheered before shooting forward weapons drawn.

A hammer strikes the anvil in the distance.

The Lady of War bellowed orders to her troops even as her Knight held the line against the servants of darkness.

The cultists had not worshipped the Grimm Queen at the hight of her powers, yet they were still drawn to her after those powers were gone for the hope of a dream unrealized. The secret of life, and conquering death. Secrets the Grimm Queen might trade for a reversal of fortune, a reversal The Unlicensed Ladybug and her acolytes are desperate enough to provide.

And so they've come for The Lady of War, with numbers and a plan her Knight and guards were not prepared for.

A hammer strikes the anvil in the distance.

It's a whale. A whale that's larger than any luxury cruise liner or cargo hauler that's ever been built by human hands. And yet it moves through the air as casually as a minnow swimming in a stream, coming towards the city with a psychopath standing proudly on its back somehow visible and imposing next to the Grimm that dwarfs her. The Penitent Warlock shifts next to The Knight, all of their companions behind them bracing for what's to come.

A hammer strikes the anvil in the distance.

The Burning Warlock staggers, locking eyes with the Viridian Thief even as the Thunder-child advanced for the finishing blow.

"People like us don't get happy endings," The Warlock spat her last breath so it would rattle about in the Thief's mind for years to come.

A hammer strikes the anvil in the distance.

The woman is a queen. The woman is a Grimm. The woman marches towards them leaving death in her wake, the head of an unrelenting tide against which no alliance of faunus and man could hope to prevail against.

She is coming.

She is coming.

She is here.

"This isn't how the story goes," Xander and Petra object.

"This is all wrong," Julian and Xia agree.

"Fix it Dad," Ash, Ashley and Amethyst all plea.

Jaune stood up to give the director a piece of his mind.

The chairs part before him allowing him to march right up to the stage. He steps up on the stage with the ease of a man taking a single step up the stairs. The performers kindly step out of his way and the stagehands kindly part the backdrop curtains for him to step backstage.

"Hey, what's the big idea?" Jaune asked as he marched up to the director.

The director turns around; hunched over with age, his hair long and unwashed while his beard's an unkempt mess. His clothes is armor, rusted over and unsightly yet somehow familiar.

The old and haggard knight looks Jaune in the eyes with long-suffering tiredness.

"The children have made a right mess of her stewardship," He laments. "She's breaking her back right now to keep other things from breaking."

"How in The Creator's name can we fix this?" Jaune and the old knight echo one another.

The sounds of hammers striking anvils grow louder and louder like approaching thunder.

.......

Jaune rolled out of bed, blinking away sleep even as the details of the dream tried to slip away as the details of dreams were known to do. Yet some details remained fresh as he stumbled his way to the bathroom for his morning ablutions.

A face that looked like his own ravaged by age and the weight of the world, clad in rusted armor that was unsettlingly familiar.

He had seen himself as The Rusted Knight.

The reason why he had seen himself as The Rusted Knight was obvious: Theodore had made a joke about spoilers and had claimed Jaune was the storybook hero that all other literary heroes were either compared or contrasted to. The boy's smirk when he had said it... Theodore had to be joking. There was no other explanation.

In any case the joke had been enough for him to envision himself as The Rusted Knight in his dream. That in and of itself wasn't too unusual, most young men had dreamed about being the Rusted Knight at some point and Jaune was no exception. However Jaune could not remember having a Rusted Knight dream that had felt so dire before.

Something to think about later, he supposed as he finished shaving what stubble had grown across his chin overnight.

"Hey Jaune," Ren's calm voice came from the other side of the bathroom door. "Would you like to join my morning meditations? The landscapers finally finished their adjustments to the Billina Garden last night and I'd like to see if it's as good a meditation spot as the Jellia Garden."

"Sure, that sounds good," Jaune answered through the door.

And so the male half of Team JNPR found themselves sitting in the lotus position alongside a babbling brook as they watched the end of the sunrise.

"...Then breathe out slowly while counting to eight," Ren instructed as he guided Jaune through the breathing exercise meant to go with this kind of meditation.

The two of them spent the next ten minutes controlling their breathing, soaking in the early morning light while listening to the flow of the water and the rustling of the leaves in the wind.

For a blissful moment all of the tensions and worries that lingered in the back of Jaune's mind were lifted away with a feeling of pure serenity.

"Thanks Ren," Jaune looked to his teammate with a smile, "You're a lifesaver."

"I just wanted you to start your day on the right foot," Ren replied with a smile of his own. "You have a lot on your shoulders, and the women who are supposed to help ease your burdens aren't yet in a position to do so. I figured I could help until they're ready."

"Well, with this mediative stuff you're doing a pretty good job filling in for them." Jaune noted before joking, "You'd make a pretty good wife if you were a girl."

Ren quirked an eyebrow in response, which made Jaune think a bit more about his joke. Jaune's eyes widened a bit in panic as he suddenly looked around.

"What's wrong?" Ren asked.

"Okay, it's just, thinking about a girl version of you with time travel nonsense on the table suddenly made me worried that maybe history could change and make that true, and then we'd have another kid running around," Jaune admitted as he shrank on himself in embarrassment.

"I highly doubt that anything that's happening here could change the cosmos enough to alter moment of my conception," Ren serenely shrugged. "And if it had then Boy-Nora would be beating the snot out of you and we wouldn't have kids anyways."

"Right, that's a good point," Jaune relaxed again. "That reminds me, how are things going with Nora right now?"

"They're going well," Ren gazed off into the distance with a look of fond reminiscing. "Yesterday we did some casual hanging out at the festival. I believe most of what happened could qualify as a date. Today I'm planning on doing something a bit more formal and official with her; your father pointed me towards a restaurant he thinks we'll both like. I'll let her decide later which one was the actual first date."

"That's great man, I'm happy for you," Jaune grinned. "It's nice seeing someone's romance unfold in such a straightforward way. Give me hope things will work out on my end in spite of how complicated everything is."

"I'm sure things will get less complicated as your dates progresses," Ren reassured him. "Most of the girls are... capable... of cooperation. They just need to feel secure where they stand with you and each other. You'll have it all sorted out in a month or two."

"That quickly?" Jaune was the one who quirked an eyebrow this time.

"It's within the realm of possibility," Ren shrugged again.

"If you say so."

"I do."

A comfortable silence hung in the air between them. A songbird started singing in the distance, and what sounded like eleven other songbirds joined in weaving a beautiful chorus. Jaune pulled out his scroll and recorded the birdsong until it ended.

"Well, your optimistic timetable won't happen if we stay out here," Jaune sighed as he put his scroll away. "It's time to face this day."

With that the boys of JNPR stood up and made their way back to the dorms.

 

[Freeze046]

Hello children, the time police and consequences would like a word with you. Also your pseudo-grandmother goddess is unhappy about how much strain you are putting on her back.

In all seriousness, I love the incorporation of the different timelines in Jaune's dreams especially with how the hammer of the Blacksmith continues to ring and ring from her strikes to symbolize her own work in the background to keep the balance and ensure time does not instantaneously unravel and implode on all of us.

 

[zMADLAXz]

Hello children, the time police and consequences would like a word with you. Also your pseudo-grandmother goddess is unhappy about how much strain you are putting on her back.

In all seriousness, I love the incorporation of the different timelines in Jaune's dreams especially with how the hammer of the Blacksmith continues to ring and ring from her strikes to symbolize her own work in the background to keep the balance and ensure time does not instantaneously unravel and implode on all of us.

Click to shrink...

You know what would fix, the timelines? Jaune's trusty Steed Juniper.

I don't know how but she will

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Anima, the Hellenic Confederation, Rhodopis

Six months after the Vytal Attacks

- - -

The train from Typhon rattled to a stop at the edge of Rhodopis—a walled village tucked off Anima's fractured main roads like a forgotten footnote in the civil war's chaos. Hellenic banners fluttered defiantly from the battlements, but the air carried the acrid tang of old smoke, a reminder that Salem's fingers—Iridescent's fingers—had stirred the pot of factional hatred here too.

Team RNRJYP, and their unlikely allies—Cinder, Emerald, and Mercury—stepped onto the dusty platform. The journey through Mistral had been a gauntlet: ambushes from raiders, getting in the middle of a firefight between militia troops and Grimm, and villages utterly destroyed by Grimm. Communications blacked out; Haven was still a distant, desperate goal: Stop the chaos. Secure the Relic. Protect the Maiden.

For the moment though, the group scattered around the vendor stands by the train station, seeking food on the way to the inn. Ruby was scrutinizing some blueberries while Yang argued with a merchant about chips. Nora was already begging for sweets, while Ren calmly paid for some tea. Emerald haggled over melons, while Mercury stood nearby in exasperation. Jaune, Pyrrha and Cinder ended up at a stand with some kabobs.

"Lamb meat, huh?" Jaune said, "Sounds good! What about you, Cinder? Pyrrha?"

Cinder frowned. Pyrrha took up the conversation.

"I love a good kabob cooked like this. Do you Cinder?" She tried.

Cinder shook her head, her usual frown deeper. Jaune picked up on this.

"Cinder?" He asked, concerned.

"Something about this place," Cinder said quietly. "Something I…" She shook her head.

A local woman—middle-aged, weathered by sun and strife by a fruit stand—gasped as her eyes landed on Cinder. She stepped out from behind the stand, walking up quickly.

"Ella?!" She cried.

Cinder froze mid-step, amber eyes narrowing to slits. Her hand twitched toward Midnight's hilt, flames flickering at her fingertips. Emerald and Mercury tensed as well.

"What did you call me?" Cinder demanded.

The woman clutched her basket tighter, tears welling. "You… you look just like her."

Jaune was at Cinder's side in an instant, his hand slipping into hers. The touch grounded her—flames dying, breath steadying. She scowled but didn't pull away.

"Who?" Cinder demanded, voice a low growl laced with confusion.

Sabine beamed through her tears. "Welcome to Rhodopis, strangers. I'm Sabine. Come—I'll explain."

Jaune glanced at Ruby. A silent conversation took place between them, before Ruby nodded reluctantly.

"We'll handle this," he said quietly. "You guys head to the inn. Get rooms, scout the place."

"Roger that, Fearless Leader!" Nora cried, saluting. Yang frowned, but nodded at Ruby's look. Ren raised an eyebrow but acquiesced, and they began heading towards the town interior.

Pyrrha lingered a beat longer, green eyes flicking between Jaune and Cinder with quiet concern. But Ruby agreed, herding the group away. Emerald and Mercury exchanged glances—Emerald's worried, Mercury's smirking—until Cinder shot them a scorching glare. They followed the other without a word.

Cinder turned back to Sabine, Jaune's hand still warm in hers.

"Explain. And make it quick."

She added, after Jaune's gentle, scolding look—eyebrows raised in silent reminder—"…Please."

Sabine, unminding of Cinder's rudeness, led them through the village's winding streets—modest stone homes patched from war damage, children playing in the dust, watchful guards on the walls. "You're the spitting image of Ilene Glass," she said softly. "Wife of Richard Glass. He was Jotun, a paladin knight—immigrated here nearly thirty years ago. Kind man. Strong. They were my friends. I even babysat their little Ella…"

Cinder's steps faltered. Jaune squeezed her hand tighter.

The old quarter lay on the village's edge. It was a scar of burnt-out ruins, some rebuilt into makeshift sheds, others left like skeletal warnings. Charred beams jutted like broken bones; weeds claimed the foundations.

Sabine stopped before one husk—a two-story shell, roof caved in, walls blackened.

Cinder stared. Something tugged at her—familiar, like a half-remembered dream.

"What happened?" she asked, voice quieter now.

Sabine's eyes misted.

"Richard and Ilene had Ella a year after they married. Sweet child—black hair, yellow eyes, just like her mother. Looked so much like you it hurts my heart." She sighed. "Then the attack. Bandits—slavers, we think. Came in the night when Ella was about three. Richard fought them off best he could, but… he and Ilene were killed. This whole quarter burned. We searched for days, but Ella's body was never found. We assumed she was taken or… gone in the flames. We tried to find her, but the Grimm surged after. There were villages hit all along the border. We never found her."

Cinder's breath hitched. Sabine stepped forward, arms open for a hug—tears flowing freely.

Cinder recoiled. "Don't."

Jaune murmured, "Cinder's… not sure about this."

Sabine nodded, wiping her eyes. "I understand. Explore if you want. The house is yours, in a way. I'll be at the inn if you need me."

She left them in the ruins.

Cinder stood frozen, staring at the charred doorway. Jaune waited patiently, hand still in hers.

"Why hesitate?" he asked softly.

"There's no guarantee this is real," she whispered. "It-It could be a lie. A trap. A-A mistake."

Jaune's thumb brushed her knuckles. "Do you believe that?"

Cinder closed her eyes. Flashes—vague, fragmented: a warm kitchen, laughter, a woman's voice singing.

"I… know nothing before the Glass Unicorn. Just images. Shadows. But…"

He squeezed gently. "What's the harm in exploring? We can leave anytime."

She took a deep breath—the scent of rusted steel and ash filling her nostrils—and stepped inside.

The ruins swallowed them. Charred floorboards creaked underfoot; sunlight pierced holes in the walls like spears. Cinder moved like a ghost—down a hallway that shouldn't feel familiar, but did. Past a collapsed staircase, down into the basement via stairs that groaned but held.

Jaune followed silently, hand on Crocea Mors just in case.

In the basement—cool, damp, foundations cracked but intact—Cinder's steps slowed. She knelt near a recess in the wall, fingers brushing stone as if guided by memory. A loose panel shifted. She pulled it free.

Behind: an old wooden chest, dust-caked but intact.

Cinder's hands trembled as she lifted the lid.

Inside: faded belongings. A silver locket. A man's pocket watch. A small, child-sized dress—once blue, now gray with age.

And photos.

She lifted one—fingers shaking so badly it nearly slipped.

Jaune sucked in a breath over her shoulder.

A family portrait: A woman with Cinder's face—amber eyes sparkling, black hair cascading in waves—smiling wide. Beside her, a black haired bearded man with kind grey eyes and a larger-than-life grin. Between them, a tiny girl—three, maybe—with yellow eyes and messy black hair, giggling at the camera.

Cinder stared.

Her hands shook harder. The photo dropped.

"No," she whispered. "I don't… I can't… this isn't…"

Denial cracked, shattered.

Tears burned hot trails down her cheeks.

Jaune wrapped his arms around her from behind—strong, steady, pulling her close as sobs tore free. She collapsed against him, clutching the chest like a lifeline, crying in the ashes of what might have been home.

He held her through it—silent, solid—until her tears soaked his shirt and the ruins echoed with her grief.

The world outside had moved on.

But in that basement, time stood still.

Cinder Fall—Ella Glass—had found her past.

And it hurt more than any flame ever could.

- - -

It's true, some things are better left as a mystery. So I'm not entirely sure if I should continue this and put it into the main story. But if you think it works, tell me and we can incorporate it.
Rhodopis is the name of the earliest version of the Cinderella fairy tale-In it, a poor Greek girl ends up marrying the King of Egypt. It was first recorded by the Greek historian Strabo in the late first century BC or early first century AD.