[RWBY] The Great Temporal Step-Sibling War!

- - -

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

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.

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

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.

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.

Just outside the Billina Garden...
- - -

"Good morning Isabel!"

Isabel looked up from her tea and breakfast, with a warm smile. Saia approached, a bright smile on her own face. She sat down across from her best friend in the cool morning air, the sun just poking up over the distant city skyline. Isabel handed over some toast, which Saia accepted gratefully. She sipped her tea.

"I take it Maia's date with Jaune went well?" She asked.

"Yes, though it was cut a bit short," Saia confirmed, "I think her confidence has improved. Arjun is going to spend the day training with her and Ruby."

"Good," Isabel sighed softly. Saia leaned in.

"Are you all right?"

"Just..." Isabel rubbed her cheeks. "How could these children be so-so irresponsible?! Going after terrorists, blowing up a mountain-!"

"Trying to save the future?" Saia asked, amused. "Determined to do the right thing no matter what? I can't imagine where they got that from."

Isabel flushed a bit and scowled at her best friend. Saia shrugged.

"I didn't teach Jaune to-to run off and blow things up... And he ended up doing it anyway," she sighed. Saia reached out and patted her palm.

"You really need to let go, Izzy," Saia said gently. "I know-It's a core part of you, the need to control things-But it's caused harm when you didn't need to use it."

Isabel sighed quietly, staring into her tea cup.

"Maybe," she said, "But given how insane the situation is... Can you blame me for wanting SOME kind of control?"

"Not at all," Saia said, "But at the same time, you need to be more flexible." She sighed happily. "I had no idea my daughter was alive... But I'm thankful that this insanity let me find her again."

Isabel nodded slowly... Then perked up. Kali Belladonna approached, along with Athena Nikos. Both waved, and Isabel and Saia scooted over to let their fellow mothers sit with them.

"Good morning!" Athena gushed. "It's so good to see you this morning! I've been coaching my little girl all night!"

"As have I," Kali said, her smile far more mischievous than usual.

"I see," Isabel managed. Saia rolled her eyes.

"It's not like you chose this table for any other reason than to keep an eye on Jaune," she scoffed.

"There were other reasons," Isabel said weakly.

- - -

Pyrrha approached the garden entrance, and stopped outside one of the many hedges. She took a deep breath, focusing on her inner calm.

I can do this, she thought, it's out in the open. We're all honest now... I can do this... I can do this...
"Good morning," Blake whispered in her ear.

"EEP!" Pyrrha yelped, swinging around to strike the catgirl. Blake narrowly dodged the strike, landing in a crouch. The Faunus girl stood up, raising an eyebrow at the redhead. Pyrrha flushed.

"Did-Did you have to do that?!" Pyrrha demanded. Blake nodded.

"Yes. Yes I did," she said, a small smile on her face. Pyrrha scowled, her hands going to her hips.

"I thought we agreed we weren't going to fight," she pointed out.

"Who is fighting?" Blake asked, "I just wanted to loosen you up."

Pyrrha frowned deeply. Blake shrugged.

"We're all in this together, Pyrrha," Blake said, "So we may as well try to... To reach out to one another. To be more friendly, given everything."

Pyrrha grimaced, but slowly nodded.

"I... Suppose you're right about that," she managed. Blake sighed with a little smile.

"Besides, today, we're going on our dates. We should both try not to be so... Tense. At least, that was my mother's advice."

Pyrrha nodded.

"You're absolutely right."

"So," Blake said, still a bit awkward, "Why are you out here?"

Pyrrha beamed.

"I... I want to set things up for our date. Set the mood, as my mother said," Pyrrha said carefully. Blake nodded.

"As do I."

"So you have a plan?" Pyrrha asked. Blake nodded quickly.

"Of course."

"Good."

"Good."

The silence fell again. Pyrrha smiled, a bit tensely.

"What is it?"

"You'll see when it happens," Blake said, her smile small and a bit challenging. Pyrrha took a deep breath.

Remember, you can't just beat them all senseless and take Jaune for your own, she thought to herself. She had a feeling she would have to remind herself of that a lot in the coming days.

"What are you going to do?" Pyrrha demanded. Blake smiled.

"Well..."

She ran around the corner, late for class, a piece of toast in her mouth! She ran into Jaune, and they both fell to the ground, his arms around her.
"Are you okay, Blake?" Jaune would ask in concern, his voice deep and shining stars around his head. Blake would demurely look up, biting her lower lip just right, her cheeks red, stars shining in her large eyes.
"Oh yes, I'm fine Jaune," she said, "I-I'm just so rushed! This situation is so overwhelming, and our date is tonight-I just want to be the best wife and mother of your children I can be~!"
"I understand, Blake," Jaune would intone, "I care for you deeply. I want the same."
"Oh Jaune~!"
Blake sighed happily in the fantasy. Pyrrha scowled.

"How could that work?" She demanded.

"Well... What is your plan?" Blake asked, a hint of challenge in her tone. Pyrrha sniffed.

"Very simple!"

Pyrrha would come around and throw a punch at Jaune. He would deflect it easily. His eyes would be wide in shock.
"Pyrrha-!"
"Just testing your reflexes, Jaune~!" Pyrrha said, sing-song. He would grin back and they would spar, before Pyrrha would 'accidentally' trip and fall into his arms.
"Oh dear," Pyrrha would swoon, "I suppose I'm out of practice, Jaune."
"We'll have to fix that tonight," Jaune agreed, smiling down on her.
Blake frowned.

"Have his skills improved enough he could handle that?" She asked.

"Of course they have!" Pyrrha insisted. "I'm his partner, after all. I know him best."
Blake's scowl deepened, and Pyrrha couldn't help but preen a bit. Normally, she would feel guilty over lording something over others... But this was Jaune. She just hoped she would keep control... When she was First Wife.

Blake's ears twitched. "Here he comes..."

She put the piece of toast in her mouth. She made to move, but Pyrrha got in her way.

"I was here first," Pyrrha stated firmly. Blake shook her head.

"Mmph nngh!"

"Uh, girls?" Jaune asked. Pyrrha turned and dashed towards him.

"Jaune-!"

Blake charged in too... Both of them slammed into Jaune and sent all three to the ground, as Ren easily stepped out of the way.

"GAH!"

"OOF!"
"MMPH!"

The three were in a pile of limbs on the grass. Jaune coughed.

"... Good morning?" He managed.

Penny landed, looking concerned.

"Good morning friends! Oh! Are we doing a dog pile? Can I join?"

"Wait, Penny-"

"YAY!"

"GAH!"

Ren covered his face with his hand and sighed... Hiding a smile.

- - -

Isabel raised an eyebrow from her table. Saia laughed softly. Kali snickered, while Athena groaned.

"She can be so rigid in her thinking," Athena lamented, "No capacity for improvisation! She gets so hyper focused on her goal to the exclusion of all else! I need to teach her better."

"Oh, I think everything is going perfectly," Kali laughed.

Isabel rubbed her temples with a sigh.

"And I thought Willow was going to be the strangest in-law," she muttered.

Saia shook her head.

"Not by half."

Beacon Academy, Vale

- - -

The party in the unused Beacon dorm was a full-throated rebellion against curfew, homework, and anything resembling adult supervision-Perfectly in tune with the upcoming Emerald Festival. Stolen festival lights twinkled overhead like captured stars, casting rainbow shadows over scavenged furniture and a dance floor packed tight with bodies moving to bass that rattled the windows. Upperclassmen had smuggled in the real stuff-bottles of hard cider, cheap beer, and a punch bowl glowing faintly blue that someone swore was "totally safe, probably."

Ruby Rose wove through the crowd like a red comet, cape still on because parties didn't count as "formal occasions." She was sixteen—almost seventeen, thank you very much-and tonight was proof night. No more baby sister. No more Yang's little shadow.

She spotted the table: a glorious shrine of forbidden adulthood.

Perfect.

With a quick burst of petals, Ruby zipped in, snatched a beer, and popped the cap before anyone blinked.

Victory tasted like… bitter, yeasty gym sock.

Ruby wrinkled her nose. "Ugh. Adults drink this for fun?"

But she was committed. Big girl mode: engaged.

She raised the bottle—

A blonde blur flashed.

Yang's hand plucked the beer away mid-tilt, not spilling a drop. She took a casual swig, wiped her mouth, and grinned down at her little sister.

Ruby's face scrunched into the ultimate pout slash glare. "Yaaaang!"

Yang slung an arm around her shoulders. "Nice try, Rubes. Still carded till twenty-one."

Ruby shoved out of the grip, cheeks burning hotter than the stolen lights. Anger surged through her, and hit her mouth before her brain could catch up.

"You can't just swing in and out of acting like my mom! You're not!"

The words hit harder than she meant. Yang's grin faltered-eyes widening like Ruby had slapped her. No anger, just... Hurt and sorrow.

Regret punched Ruby in the gut. The room felt too loud, too hot, too full of staring faces. She bolted—petals scattering as she blurred through the crowd and out to the balcony.

Cool night air hit her face. She reformed at the railing, gripping it tight, eyes stinging as she stared at the stars.

Stupid. So stupid.

"Crater Face? You okay?"

Ruby turned. Jaune stood in the doorway, beer in hand—his own, legal one—concern written all over his face.

She flushed, leaning harder on the railing. "Y-Yeah… No… I dunno."

Jaune joined her, setting a gentle hand on her shoulder. He sipped his drink, giving her space.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"No," she muttered.

He nodded, leaning beside her in comfortable silence.

"That's okay."

The quiet stretched—city lights below, stars above. Ruby's anger ebbed into something heavier.

"Just… ugh," she groaned. "It's so frustrating. Yang was basically my mom most of my life. Then we get here and she either goes along with everything or makes decisions for me like I'm still ten!"

Jaune smiled softly. "I get it."

Ruby glanced up. "You do?"

"Yeah. How complicated it is. With parents."

Ruby frowned. "You haven't talked much about yours. They weren't… jerks, were they?"

Jaune sighed, staring at the horizon. "No. Not exactly. They love me. But they were Hunters—Mom a combat medic, Dad a paladin. And… they didn't want me to be one."

"What did they want?"

He snorted. "A doctor."

Ruby giggled despite herself. "Doctor Jaune?"

"Yeah." His smile turned wistful. "We fought a lot—me and Mom, mostly. Dad tried to keep peace, but he always sided with her. Treated me like I couldn't decide for myself or-or I was made of glass. So I took Crocea Mors, bought cheap armor, a ticket… and here I am."

Ruby's eyes softened. "So you feel guilty but… happy?"

"Yeah. Guilt's the worst part."

"Same," Ruby sighed, pouting at the sky. "I wanna be treated like an adult. I'm here two years early, leading a team, holding everything together—except when we're fighting, then they listen. I wish I had your team. They follow you, respect you—"

"It's a lot of work," Jaune said. "Nora's all my little sisters combined, with a grenade hammer. Ren and Pyrrha rely on me for direction. You're just in a different situation."

"Still… bet they'd take me seriously if I was older." Ruby huffed. "You treat me like an adult… mostly."

Jaune blinked. "Mostly?"

Ruby flushed crimson, covering her mouth. "I-uh-N-No, I didn't mean-!"

"What?" Jaune asked, worried. "Did I disrespect you? Tell me, Ruby-you're my best friend."

She grimaced, looking away. Stupid mouth.

"Do… do you think I'm pretty?" she managed, voice small.

Jaune stared.

"Like… like you thought Weiss was pretty?"

Silence.

Ruby's heart sank. She turned away. Still just the kid sister-

Jaune's hand gently turned her back. His face was bright red, but his eyes were steady.

"Yeah, Ruby," he murmured. "I do. I do think you're pretty. Very pretty."

Blood rushed to her cheeks. Her silver eyes darted everywhere but him.

"I… um… think you're pretty too." She squeaked, mortified. "I mean-handsome! That's pretty for boys!"

Jaune laughed-soft, warm. Ruby joined him, tension easing.

"So… why haven't you done anything about it?" she asked, braver now.

Jaune rubbed his neck. "First-you were younger." At her puffed up indignation, he continued quickly, "Second… Weiss was me trying to prove something. I had to get over myself. Third…" He met her eyes.

"You're my best friend. I couldn't imagine losing you if it ended badly."

Ruby bit her lip. "Well…"

She stepped closer, heart pounding.

"Maybe we don't have to worry about ending badly. Maybe… we just start?"

Jaune's breath caught.

The stars above seemed brighter.

And on the balcony, away from the party's noise, two best friends took the first, terrifying step toward something new.

- - -

@RedDragonEmpress Happy Birthday!

Beacon, Vale

The "underground" party in the unused Beacon dorm had reached peak chaos-string lights twinkling like mischievous stars overhead, bass thumping hard enough to rattle the windows, bodies packed tight in a swirl of laughter, spilled drinks, and dancing that would've sent Ozpin into quiet despair. Upperclassmen had turned the place into a den of rebellion: hard booze flowing, beer bottles clinking, and that glowing punch bowl drawing crowds like moths to a very questionable flame.



Then the door exploded inward.



Not literally-though with the force behind it, it might as well have.



Glynda Goodwitch stood in the doorway like judgment incarnate-riding crop in hand, glasses glinting under the lights, green eyes narrowed to lethal slits.



The music scratched to a halt. Someone killed the lights. A collective "oh shit" rippled through the room.



"Detention," she said, voice cutting through the sudden silence like a whip crack. "All of you. Now."



Pandemonium.



Students bolted-petals, glyphs, shadows, hammers-scattering like roaches under a flashlight. Bottles clattered, cups spilled, furniture toppled in the mad dash for freedom.



Glynda's crop flicked-telekinetic waves corralling the slowest runners, pinning them gently but firmly against walls.



In the chaos, Jaune Arc-halfway through helping a tipsy Nora stand-stepped forward, hands raised.



"Professor! Wait-it was my idea! I planned the whole thing!"



Nora blinked at him from the floor. "Wha-? Jaune, you liar, it was my-"



He shot her a desperate look. Shut up, please.



Nora shut up, her eyes tearing up at her leader's bravery. She would sing songs of his sacrifice!



Glynda's eyes locked on him. "Mr. Arc."



Jaune swallowed. "Yeah. All me. Everyone else just… showed up. Punish me. Let them go."



The remaining students-frozen mid-escape-stared. Ruby mouthed "Jaune?!" from behind a couch.



Glynda surveyed the wreckage: spilled punch, overturned chairs, a suspicious puddle that might've been beer or worse.



Her crop lowered slightly.



"Very well. The rest of you-clean this up. Now. Mr. Arc… detention. My office. Every day for the next month. You'll assist me personally."



Jaune exhaled-relief for his friends, dread for himself. "Yes, ma'am."



The cleanup took hours. Glynda supervised with the efficiency of a general, students scrubbing under her watchful eye until the dorm gleamed (or at least didn't smell like booze and regret).



Jaune reported to her office the next afternoon-and every afternoon after.



At first, it was pure punishment: endless paperwork, grading stacks, filing reports. Glynda's office was a fortress of organization-files labeled, pens aligned, everything in its place.



Jaune, however, had a secret weapon.



His sister-in-law, Terra Cotta-Arc (Saphron's wife), was a tech wizard-former Atlas engineer turned CCTnet coder. She'd sent him a custom app: "Arc Family Admin Assistant"-a beast of a program that scanned, sorted, cross-referenced, and even predicted filing categories with scary accuracy.



Jaune plugged his scroll in on day three.



Glynda glanced over as a mountain of backlog vanished into digital order in minutes.



"…What is that?"



"Uh… family software? My sister-in-law made it. For farm records, mostly. But it works on anything."



Glynda's eyebrow arched. "Show me."



By the end of the week, half her paperwork was done. By week two, they were ahead.



Glynda-grudgingly-admitted it was efficient.



Conversations started small.



"You're surprisingly competent with administrative tools, Mr. Arc."



"Farm life. Lots of records-crops, livestock, taxes. Saph-my sister-married a computer genius."



Glynda's lips twitched. "I see."



They bonded over shared frustrations: bureaucracy, overly cryptic superiors, and the endless energy of students-Nora especially.



Jaune's earnestness wore down her walls. Glynda's dry wit made him laugh-really laugh.



She noticed his maturity-how he listened without interrupting, how he took criticism and improved.



He noticed her passion-how she cared fiercely for Beacon's students, even the troublemakers.



Weeks turned to months.



Detention became… routine. Comfortable.



Glynda found herself looking forward to the quiet hours with him.



Jaune caught himself smiling at her rare, genuine laughs.



But it stayed professional.



At least, that's what she told herself. All the way up to Vytal.



Which is when things began to change...

Beacon, Vale

The unused dorm at Beacon had been hijacked into a full-blown underground rager-string lights pilfered from festival decorations twinkled overhead like mischievous fireflies, mismatched furniture formed makeshift dance floors, and the bass from the borrowed speakers thumped hard enough to make the windows vibrate. Upperclassmen had smuggled in the contraband: bottles of hard cider, cheap beer, and a glowing punch bowl that someone insisted was "totally safe, probably."

Bodies packed the space-dancing, laughing, grinding in ways that would've sent Professor Goodwitch into a meltdown.

Weiss Schnee stood near the edge of the chaos, a half-empty cup of that suspiciously glowing punch in hand. She hadn't meant to drink this much. One cup to loosen up. Two to drown the irritation. Three because… well, Neptune Vasilias was across the room, flirting shamelessly with a cluster of giggling third-years from Haven, one arm slung around a girl's waist like he owned the place.

Weiss's grip tightened on her cup. She'd dumped him-cleanly, decisively, with all the icy finality a Schnee could muster. He didn't deserve her time.
But watching him laugh, watching him not even glance her way-like she'd never mattered-hurt more than she'd admit.

Stupid. Pathetic.

She drained the cup, set it down harder than necessary, and slipped out the side door before anyone noticed the heiress fleeing her own humiliation.

The balcony air was cool, crisp-stars sharp overhead, the distant thump of music muffled. Weiss leaned on the railing, exhaling shakily, the buzz making her head light and her pride sting.

Footsteps approached.

She didn't turn. "If you're here to drag me back in, save it."

"Uh… no?" Jaune's voice was hesitant, surprised. "I was just getting some air. Too many people in there."

Weiss glanced over. Jaune stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, looking awkwardly handsome in a simple button-up-hair tousled, cheeks flushed from the heat inside.

She huffed, turning back to the stars. "Fine. Stay if you want."

He joined her at the railing, leaving a polite distance. Silence stretched-comfortable, surprisingly.

Then the words tumbled out before she could stop them.

"He's such an idiot," she muttered. "Flirting with half the academy like I never existed. I ended it. I know I did the right thing. But it still… stings."

Jaune nodded slowly. "Neptune's… yeah. He's Neptune."

Weiss laughed-short, bitter. "Yang told me what you did. Made him dance with me at the ball. Why?"

Jaune rubbed his neck, cheeks pink. "I… just wanted you to be happy. You looked miserable, and he was being a jerk. Figured if he danced with you, at least you'd get one good moment out of it."

Weiss stared at him. Really stared.

All those months-flowers, terrible poetry, awkward serenades. She'd dismissed them as childish, desperate, beneath her.

But they'd been genuine.

Every clumsy gesture, every earnest word-he'd meant them. No games. No ulterior motives. Just… Jaune, wanting her to smile.

Like now.

Her chest tightened.

The buzz made her bold.

"Walk with me?" she asked quietly. "Under the moonlight?"

Jaune's eyes widened. Then he smiled-soft, real.

"Yeah. I'd like that."

A week later, Vale's finest café-reserved private booth, white roses on the table, soft string music in the background.

Their first real date.

Weiss arrived in a simple white dress-elegant but not too ostentatious. Jaune arrived in a jacket that actually fit, hair combed (mostly).

They talked-really talked. About family pressures, dreams, fears. Laughed over shared embarrassments. Held hands across the table when the conversation turned quiet.

No bravado. No ice.

Just them.

And under the café's soft lights, Weiss Schnee realized something simple and terrifying.

She was happy.

With Jaune Arc.

Of all people.

Oh no...

Beacon, Vale

The unused dorm at Beacon had been hijacked into a full-blown underground party—string lights pilfered from festival decorations twinkled overhead like mischievous fireflies, mismatched furniture helped to form makeshift dance floors, and the bass from the borrowed speakers thumped hard enough to make the windows vibrate. Upperclassmen had smuggled in the contraband: bottles of hard cider, cheap beer, and a punch bowl glowing faintly blue that someone insisted was "totally safe, probably."

Probably.

Bodies packed the space—dancing, laughing, grinding in ways that would've sent Professor Goodwitch into a conniption. If she wasn't away at the moment.

Pyrrha Nikos—usually the picture of poised elegance—stood near the edge of the chaos, a cup of that suspiciously glowing punch in hand. She'd had one. Then two. Then… a few more. Liquid courage, she'd told herself. Just enough to loosen the knot in her chest that tightened every time Jaune Arc smiled at someone else.

Tonight, she'd decided, was the night.

No more watching from the sidelines. No more "he'll notice eventually" excuses. No more pretending her heart didn't race every time he smiled at her.

She spotted him across the room—talking to Ren, looking awkwardly handsome in a simple button-up, hair tousled from the heat. Her legs moved before her brain caught up.

Jaune noticed her approach mid-sentence. "Pyrrha! Hey, you okay? You look a little—"

She didn't let him finish.

Pyrrha stepped in close—too close—green eyes bright with alcohol and something fiercer. One hand braced on his chest, the other sliding up to his shoulder.

"Jaune," she said, voice low and earnest, "I've wanted to do this for so long."

Then she kissed him.

Not a gentle, tentative first kiss. A full, enthusiastic, "I've been pining for months" kiss—passionate, a little sloppy from the punch, and intense enough to make Jaune's eyes go wide as saucers.

The room didn't exactly stop, but a few nearby heads turned. Nora's whoop carried over the music.

Jaune's brain short-circuited. Pyrrha Nikos—the Invincible Girl, his partner, his friend—was kissing him like the world was ending.

He pulled back gently, hands on her shoulders, face flaming. "P-Pyrrha! Whoa—air—let's get some air—"

He guided her out to the balcony before she could dive in for round two, the cool night breeze hitting them like a splash of water.

Pyrrha swayed slightly, blinking as the fresh air hit. Then her face crumpled.

"Oh no," she whispered, sinking to sit on the balcony floor, back against the railing. "I ruined it. I'm sorry—I just—I love you, Jaune. I've loved you for so long and I never knew how to say it and now I've scared you and—"

Jaune dropped to his knees beside her, heart pounding. "Pyrrha—hey, hey, breathe. You didn't ruin anything."

She looked up, eyes glistening. "I did. I was too forward. Too much. You're scared of me now."

He laughed—soft, incredulous. "Scared? Pyrrha, I'm terrified because I thought you were way out of my league. Like… galaxies out of my league."

She blinked. "What?"

Jaune rubbed his neck, cheeks burning. "I care about you. A lot. More than a lot. But I always figured you were… above me. Too good. I didn't want to mess up what we have by being an idiot. And-And let's face it. I'm a massive idiot."

Pyrrha stared. Then laughed—wet, relieved. "You're not an idiot. You're wonderful. And I'm not above you. I'm right here. All... All you have to do is... Ask."

Jaune smiled—small, hopeful. "Then… maybe we take it slow? Both of us are kind of new to this."

Pyrrha's face lit up—radiant, even through the tears and buzz. "Yes. Slow. I'd like that."

She leaned forward, resting her head on his shoulder.

Then her eyes fluttered shut.

"Pyrrha?" Jaune asked.

A soft snore answered.

She'd passed out—peaceful, smiling, red hair spilling over his arm.

Jaune sighed fondly, scooping her up bridal-style without hesitation. She was heavier than she looked—all muscle—but he managed.

He carried her through the quiet halls, back to her dorm, tucking her in with careful gentleness.

As he pulled the blanket up, Pyrrha murmured in her sleep—content, happy.

Jaune brushed a strand of hair from her face, smiling.

"Slow it is," he whispered.

No balcony in this one...

Beacon, Vale

- - -

The RWBY dorm room was a bit tense. Blake sat at the small vanity, carefully applying a touch of eyeliner—nothing dramatic, just enough to sharpen the amber of her eyes. Yang leaned against the bunk frame, arms crossed, a knowing grin plastered across her face.

"Come off it, Blake," Yang drawled. "This is your third 'outing' with Jaune. You're dating. Admit it."

Blake didn't look up from the mirror. "You've been on plenty of outings with the same guy. At least according to Ruby."

Yang's cheeks flashed pink. "Yeah, but come on—I didn't put on makeup for them. Not that much."

Weiss, perched on her own bed with a textbook balanced on her knees, sniffed. "This is all just a ploy so he can get to me, you know that, right?"

Ruby rolled her eyes from her spot on the floor, surrounded by scattered weapon schematics. "Weiss, you've been saying that since forever."

Blake capped the eyeliner and met Weiss's gaze in the mirror. "Actually, Weiss, you'll be happy to know you only came up in passing."

Weiss sputtered. "What?! Not… that I care!"

Blake's lips curved into a faint, satisfied smirk. "Besides, I've never been bowling. He offered to take me."

Yang snorted. "Pfft. Bowling? Lame."

Ruby's head snapped up. "I'd love to go bowling!"

Weiss rubbed the small of her back with a wince, remembering. "Actually, it can be quite a challenge to get the ball where you want on the second pass. Those lanes are…" She grimaced. "Slippery."

"Yes, we saw the video," Ruby said. Weiss' eyes widened.

"WHAT?! HOW?"

Yang and Ruby dissolved into laughter. Weiss's eyes narrowed.

"Whitley is behind this," she muttered. "I just know it."

Ruby grinned. "Bingo!"

Blake arched a brow, shifting the subject like a master fencer. "But to your original question, Yang—you were quite familiar with that police officer before Beacon, right?"

Ruby's eyes widened. "Eh-heh… I wouldn't call those encounters with Officer Lestrad dates, exactly."

Weiss sighed. "Why am I not surprised."

Yang flushed darker. "They weren't dates!"

Ruby chirped, "She got arrested!"

"RUBY!"

Blake tilted her head, voice mild. "And yet, using your logic…?"

Yang threw her hands up. "Pfft. Please. You are in the deepest pit of denial."

A knock sounded at the door.

Blake rolled her eyes, comparing two lipsticks. "If that's Jaune, tell him I'll be out in a minute."

Weiss eyed the lipsticks suspiciously. "You know, you aren't helping your case about this not being a date."

Blake paused, then tucked both tubes away. "… I'll use both."

Ruby scrambled to her feet. "Blake! Come on! So your last boyfriend was… um…"

Weiss supplied dryly, "A bloodthirsty maniac?"

Blake sighed. "Sun was—oh. Right. Him."

Ruby waved her hands. "WEISS! This is serious!"

"Is there a better description?" Weiss asked.

Yang glared. "You could try using tact, like you keep spouting."

Blake shrugged. "A blood-lusting sociopath?"

Weiss gestured triumphantly. "See?"

Ruby pressed on. "You don't have to deny that you're dating again!"

Blake gave her a long, flat look. "Ruby, if there was anything to deny, I would do it by not being seen."

Weiss blinked. "…That is surprisingly self-aware."

Yang wiped away a mock tear. "I am so proud."

Ruby gaped. "You're aware of the problem but you keep doing it?!"

Weiss smirked. "Says the cookie addict."

"THAT'S NOT THE SAME!"

Another knock—gentler this time. Jaune's voice came through the door. "Hey, Blake! Ready?"

Blake's ears perked. She crossed the room with an uncharacteristic bounce, opened the door, and slipped her arm through Jaune's without hesitation. They walked off down the hall together.

Yang stared after them. "…They're so dating."

Weiss scoffed loudly. "HA! Please! H-he'll botch it somehow! He always does! This is just his fiendish plot to get closer to me! You'll see! YOU'LL ALL SEE!"

Ruby bit her lip. "…Is it bad to admit that I'm dating Whitley?"

Weiss whirled. "WHAT?!"

In the next dorm over, Nora held out an empty palm. Ren sighed and placed a small stack of lien in it.

Out in the hall, Jaune glanced sideways at Blake. "What was that about?"

Blake waved a hand. "Nothing. They're being silly."

- - -

The bowling alley smelled of polished wood, fried food, and faint nostalgia. Jaune paid for lane and shoe rental while Blake eyed the colorful, slippery-looking shoes with suspicion.

"So why do we need to rent shoes?" she asked.

"So we don't scuff the alleys," Jaune explained. "Or the floor."

Blake examined the soles—smooth leather, no grip whatsoever. Huh. She changed slowly, almost lingering, as though unaware how gracefully her feet moved. Which was good, because this definitely wasn't a date.

Jaune cleared his throat. "Um… right. Let me show you. Let's put our initials in."

He typed: J O N

Blake took the console. B U K K E

She scowled. "…Stupid keyboard."

Backspace. B L A A

"Mother—!"

Backspace. B D S M

"THANK you."

Jaune laughed warmly. "Okay… now watch me."

He stepped up, swung smoothly—and the pins exploded in a perfect strike.

Blake applauded demurely. "Good job, Jaune. My turn."

Her first ball rolled straight into the gutter.

She stared. "…What?"

Jaune echoed, "What?"

Second ball—aggressive, determined—clipped the farthest right pin and kept going.

"URRGH!"

She flopped onto the bench as Jaune took his turns. Strike. Strike.

He glanced over, sheepish. "Blake… mind some help?"

"No! I don't need any help!"

She charged again, stopped too late, stepped onto the oiled lane—and her feet flew out from under her. She landed hard on her backside. "OW!"

The ball rolled mournfully into the gutter.

Jaune bit his lip, clearly fighting laughter, and offered a hand. She took it, slipping and sliding as he pulled her back to safety.

"Blake… it's okay."

She wasn't listening, yanking her next ball from the return. She reared back like a baseball pitcher.

"Woah—!" Jaune lunged, wrapping his arms around her from behind to stop the throw. "Blake. It's okay. Just chill out…"

Her ears flattened. Heat flooded her face. She gently set the ball down. "…Sorry. How am I supposed to throw this thing?"

"I'll teach you," he said softly. "You can take my next turn. We'll do it together, okay?"

She pouted. "Fine."

He retrieved his ball and handed it to her. "Don't hold it too firmly—just enough. You don't want it to wriggle, but you don't want to strain anything… there."

He stayed close behind her, arms around hers, guiding her grip.

"Okay… hold it up. Like this."

Blake felt oddly warm. "Okay…"

"Step like this, pull back… bend down while you roll and—!"

The ball rolled—veered slightly—but clipped three pins cleanly.

"Finally!" Blake spun and hugged him without thinking.

Jaune's arms came around her instantly, tight and happy. "Heh… wanna keep going?"

"Yes! I want to figure this out!"

- - -

Thirty minutes later the scoreboard read:

J O N — 300

B B D N — 17

Blake stared at it, eyes watery. "How are you so good at this?"

Jaune rubbed the back of his neck, clearly enjoying the victory. "Lots of practice."

Her competitive streak bristled—then she remembered how few wins Jaune actually had at Beacon. Letting him have this one felt… fair. As long as he didn't push it.

"Up for another game?"

She scowled. He winced. "I'm sorry… I am kind of smug. I shouldn't be. It's just kind of funny."

Blake rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well… you got pinned to a tree your first day. You deserve to feel smug."

He grinned. "Also, you're really cute when you're pouting."

Her ears flattened again. She looked away, blush rising. "Shut up."

"What? You are." A beat. "And yeah, another game!"

They bowled. They devoured greasy snacks. They laughed—more than Blake had in months.

Eventually they stepped out into the cool night air.

"We need to do this again," Blake said quietly.

Jaune smiled. "I can't believe Yang called this lame. She actually bowled a few times," he added. "She just likes to pretend her nerd days never happened. According to Ruby, anyway."

Blake hummed, filing that away for later blackmail and teasing. "Uh-huh…"

Jaune gently steered them toward a small nearby park, lamplight pooling gold on the path.

"I suppose I can understand wanting to rebuild your image when you make it to a new place," Blake murmured.

"Yeah…" Jaune's voice grew quieter. "Uh… Blake? I… I have some important stuff to tell you."

Dread coiled in her stomach. "…Yes?"

"It's a little… I just want to come clean, okay? Be honest."

She swallowed. "Of course. I don't exactly have room to judge."

He pulled out his Scroll, and opened a photo: a younger Jaune, grinning in a photobooth beside a pretty blonde cat Faunus girl with long, sleek hair.

"This is my ex-girlfriend, Katy Sith."

Blake's heart sank. She's lovely. The cold thought followed: Lost love. Impossible standard. Ghost. I'm his Lenore...

Why does that hurt so much?

"We were childhood friends," Jaune said softly. "Dated for a while. Broke up-it was ugly. She had this whole plan: I'd be a doctor, she'd be my wife. Didn't support my dream. Said she wouldn't wait when I failed and came crawling back." He shrugged, a little sad. "She apologized later, but still… couldn't wait."

Blake exhaled, relief surprising her. "Oh…"

Jaune tucked the Scroll away. "Which leads to the next thing. I like you, Blake. I really like you—like, want-you-to-be-my-girlfriend like you. But you wouldn't be a replacement for her. I needed you to know that. Because I… I care about you. That way."

The world narrowed to his earnest blue eyes.

"…Why?" she whispered.

"Why what?"

"Why me?" Her voice cracked. "You know enough. You should know that's a terrible choice."

Jaune tilted his head. "Why is it terrible?"

"I ran away at twelve to join a terrorist organization, for starters."

"And you left to make things right."

"Yeah—after I'd killed people. Awful people, but still—"

"Yes," he said firmly. "Even after that."

He took a slow breath. "My dad's militia captain back home. Quiet town, but we've had bandits. Dad's killed people. I was taught to guard my sisters with a shotgun if anyone came. Nobody ever did… but I knew what I'd have to do. So I get it. Innocent people? That'd be different. But you didn't."

She shook her head, frantic. "I don't stick around, Jaune. I'll run if it keeps people I care about safe from my past—"

"Then I'll follow you."

"But—why?!"

"Because I care about you."

She stared ahead, stunned, expression lost.

"My parents founded the White Fang," she whispered. "People will blame me for-for what they've become."

"So? It's not true, is it?"

"Well—no! But—they rule Menagerie now. You'd be dating an actual princess. Not the corporate nepo-baby kind. You ready for that attention?"

Jaune didn't flinch. The realization crashed over her like cool water.

By the Animal Gods' horns… we're dating.

"I know…" he said quietly. "I'm scared too. Really scared. But Dad always said courage isn't being fearless. It's conquering fear. Because some things are more important. Like… love."

The word hung warm between them.

Blake's mind spun through every buried romantic dream—and the teasing from earlier that night.

"Jaune, we…"

She flushed, and slowly nodded.

"... Okay, fine. We're dating." She met his eyes. "But no one must ever know."

He blinked. "What—why?"

"Because Yang will never let me hear the end of it."

He laughed softly, took both her hands, and grinned—that earnest, dorky grin that always undid her.

Then he leaned in.

She met him halfway—shy, chaste at first. Just lips under lamplight.

Then Jaune, surprisingly, deepened it—gentle pressure, asking. She parted her lips, let him in.

His arms tightened around her. She melted into the embrace, a low, involuntary purr starting in her throat.

- - -

Later, back at the dorms, they paused outside the doors.

"Thanks again, Jaune," Blake said softly. "I had a really nice time. We need to do that again."

The rest of RWBY chose that moment to appear, grinning like cats with cream.

Jaune glanced at them, then back. "…Yes. We should."

He leaned in to kiss her.

Blake gave him a quick, chaste peck on the cheek. "See you in the morning, Jaune." She slipped inside before her nerve broke.

Jaune's quiet "Good night, Blake" followed her in.

She ignored the smirks—especially Yang's. She did see Weiss' scowl... And couldn't resist.

"Oh, and Weiss?" she added lightly. "You never came up once."

Weiss growled.

Blake continued, casual. "He even showed off a picture of his ex. Definitely not something you do on a date."

Yang leaned forward. "Oh? And what did his ex look like?"

"Blonde. Faunus. Big… assets." Blake kept her tone perfectly innocent. "Well—not as big as yours, but trust me, Weiss, you aren't his type."

Weiss sputtered. "What?!"

"What?" Blake echoed. "I thought you wanted him to leave you alone. Clearly just a rebound. Now you're free. You should be thrilled."

"You—I—!" Weiss flung her hands up. "I DON'T CARE!"

Blake hid a tiny, satisfied smile and headed for her bunk.

- - -

Cross-Posted From The Spacebattles Thread

Glimpss Into Another Timeline: Emerald: The Party

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Beacon, Vale.

The unused dorm at Beacon had been hijacked into a full-blown underground rager-string lights pilfered from festival decorations twinkled overhead like mischievous fireflies, mismatched furniture formed makeshift dance floors, and the bass from the borrowed speakers thumped hard enough to make the windows vibrate. Upperclassmen had smuggled in the contraband: bottles of hard cider, cheap beer, and a glowing punch bowl that someone insisted was "totally safe, probably".

Their mission was supposed to be a simple one: Blend in with the crowd and use everyone's lowered inhibitions to gain information.

But Emerald Sustrai had a different mission.

She had 5 cups of the mystery punch to give her liquid courage. Courage she needed to tell Cinder how she felt. To confess her love for her mistress.

"Cinder," She said, her words slightly slurred. "I, I need to talk to you..."

"Not now, Emerald. I need to focus on the... Are you drunk?" Cinder questioned her inebriated subordinate.

Mercury, who had been chatting with the skater girl from Haven, turned his head towards them. This oughta be good.

"Cinder," Emerald steeled her nerves. This was it. Now or never. "I love you. I owe you so much. And... and I want us to be together!"

Her face was flushed. Some people were staring at them but she didn't care. Cinder stared at her blankly.

"Let's talk about this, Emerald." She said.

"No," Emerald stopped her. She knew what Cinder was trying to do. She's done this before. Whenever she hinted at having feelings or confessing her feelings, Cinder would always deflect or make some lame excuse. Just what was she so afraid of! "I need to now if you feel the same way."

"Ok. I understand that. So why don't we just wait until we get back to discuss this further, Emerald." Cinder reasoned. There were even more people staring at them. That bimbo from team RWBY and the cow sniper from that team from Vacuo were the notable spectators.

"I need to know now!" Emerald shouted. Her drubken frustration finally reached its limits. "I want us to finally be honest with each other about our--"

"'Us'?, Cinder interrupts. Her tone now completely cold. "There is no 'Us', Emerald. There has never been an 'Us'. There will neve be an 'Us'."

What? Why? Why would Cinder say that?

"You need to get this little fantasy about us being together out of your head." Cinder said with finality. The words burrowed into Emerald's ear.

Emerald could hear her heart shattering like glass. Tears began to fall from her eyes. She ran out of the building. She needed to get away from the crowd. Away from Cinder. She ended up against the wall of the greenhouse just outside of the main school building.

She held her knees close to her chest as she cried. She cried so much she didn't know how long she had been sat there.

Emerald could hear footsteps approaching her. It must be Mercury coming to look for her and smugly tell her about how she shouldn't have gotten so attached to Cinder or something. A pair of sneakers appeared in her peripheral sight. Emerald looked up to be met with the person least expected.

"Um, hey," Jaune Arc let his presence be known, albeit in his awkward way. "I.. heard what Cinder said. I'm sorry."

"I don't need your pity." Emerald spat. She knew he had a problem with taking 'no' for an answer, so she hoped her attitude would be enough to get him to fuck off.

"You're right. You don't," Jaune then sat down next to her. Was he seriously this dense!? "But you do need a friend."

"We're not friends. You don't know me." Emerald spat once again. Maybe this time he'll go away.

"Well, my Mom always told me that strangers are friends you haven't met yet," Jaune smiled. He extended his hand to her. "I'm Jaune."

Emerald stared at him, completely bewildered by Jaune. He really wasn't going to leave her alone, was he?

"Emerald." She said, quietly.

Jaune sat with her until the sun rose, trying the best he could to make Emerald not focus on Cinder's harmful words. After all, his Dad did say it was a man's job to comfort a crying woman.

As for Emerald, she could feel her shatteresd heart piece slowly itself together, shard by shard.

----------------------------------------

I couldn't think of a title for this side story. Hope you guys enjoy!