[RWBY] The Great Temporal Step-Sibling War!

[AndrewJTalon]

Airship on the way to Argus

Six months after Vytal

- - -

The airship liner to Argus hummed steadily through the night sky, engines a low, constant thrum beneath the deck. Most passengers were asleep in their cabins or dozing in the lounge seats. The observation deck, however, was empty save for two figures tucked into the shadowed corner near the rear windows.

Emerald Sustrai leaned against the railing, arms crossed, a sly little smile playing on her lips as she watched Jaune fumble with the practice wallet she'd clipped to her belt.

"Again," she said, voice low and teasing. "You're telegraphing every move. Your hand's shaking like you're trying to defuse a bomb."

Jaune's ears went pink. "I'm trying. This is harder than it looks."

"That's the point." She stepped closer. Close enough that her hip brushed his. "Thieves don't get second chances. Neither do you if you want to impress me."

He swallowed, eyes flicking down to the wallet, then back up to her face. She was smirking, but there was something softer in her gaze tonight. Something almost fond.

"Okay. One more time."

He reached: Slow, careful, trying to mimic the smooth motion she'd shown him earlier. His fingers grazed the edge of the wallet… and then slipped, brushing the curve of her hip instead.

Emerald didn't flinch. Didn't pull away.

Instead, she caught his wrist gently, guiding his hand back to the wallet.

"You're not trying to grab it," she murmured, breath warm against his ear. "You're trying to caress it. Like this."

She slid his fingers along the leather-slow, deliberate-until they closed around the edge. Her other hand came up to rest on his chest, right over his heartbeat.

Jaune's pulse jumped under her palm.

"See?" she whispered. "Light touch. No tension. Just… feeling it out."

His voice came out rough. "Emerald…"

She tilted her head, lips curving. "You're still shaking."

"I'm… distracted."

"Good." She leaned in until their foreheads nearly touched. "That's part of the challenge."

Jaune's free hand rose hesitantly until it settled at her waist. He didn't pull her closer. He didn't need to. She closed the last inch herself.

Their lips met/ Spft at first, testing. Then deeper. Hungrier.

The wallet slipped from between them and hit the deck with a soft thud.

Neither noticed.

Jaune's hand slid up her back, fingers tangling in her hair. Emerald made a small, pleased sound against his mouth, pressing herself closer until there was no space left between them. The kiss turned messy, teeth and tongue and quiet gasps swallowed by the hum of the engines.

When they finally parted, both breathing hard, Emerald rested her forehead against his, eyes half-lidded and amused.

"You're still terrible at pickpocketing," she whispered.

Jaune laughed. "Yeah. But I'm getting really good at this part."

She smirked, brushing her thumb along his jaw. "Practice makes perfect."

He kissed her again.

The wallet lay forgotten on the floor.

For a time, so was their mission, the danger they were pursuing.

But for now, they had eachother. And that was enough.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Radian, Gallia, Vale

Eight Years After Salem's Defeat

- - -

The Arc farmhouse was quiet in the late afternoon—golden light slanting through the windows, the twins Ozma and Mombi finally asleep in their shared crib after a long morning of teething fusses. Glynda Goodwitch-Arc sat at the kitchen table that doubled as her home office, scroll open to a stack of Hunter Association reports she was trying to finish before she got dinner started.

Then the music started.

Not soft music. Not background music.

Loud, crunchy, electric-guitar-driven rock music—blasting from the garage like someone had opened a portal to the bad cover dimension.

Glynda's pen froze mid-signature.

She sighed deeply, then stood. With a flick of her riding crop, she levitated the crib (twins still blissfully asleep) and floated it behind her like a truck towing a precious cargo load.

She pushed open the side door to the garage.

The scene that greeted her was exactly what she feared.

Jaune—hair mussed, sleeves rolled up, old T-shirt stretched across his shoulders—stood at the microphone, belting lyrics with surprising competence. Sun Wukong shredded on lead guitar, tail whipping in time. Neptune Vasilias slapped bass with cocky flair. Lie Ren—stoic Ren—sat behind the drum kit, expression neutral but sticks moving with surgical precision.

And in the middle of it all, three-year-old Dorothy Arc danced like she was born for the spotlight—spinning, jumping, arms flung wide, giggling every time the chorus hit.

Glynda cleared her throat. Loudly.

"Jaune! JAUNE!"

The music screeched to a halt. The twins—rudely awakened by the sudden silence—immediately started wailing.

Jaune spun, eyes wide. "Sorry, Glynda!"

Glynda floated the crib closer, scooping both babies into her arms. She rocked them gently, murmuring soothing nonsense while glaring daggers at her husband.

"What. Is. All. This?"

Jaune rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. "Well… we all realized we never started a garage band when we were teenagers."

Neptune leaned on his bass, grinning. "And since we're all in town with our wives for that Hunter Association meeting…"

Sun posed dramatically, still shirtless (And Glynda suspected just the way his wife liked it).

"We thought we'd give it a try!"

Ren, deadpan as ever behind the kit: "Indeed."

Glynda stared at them—one by one—then at the amp stack, the tangled cables, the half-eaten pizza on the workbench.

She sighed. Long. Deep. The sigh of a woman who had once stared down Grimm hordes and now stared down her middle-aged husband and far too old men playing dress-up rockstar.

"Couldn't you just buy a sports car like any other man in a mid-life crisis?"

Jaune laughed—bright, unrepentant. "Ha! Way too late for that, sweetie."

Glynda's glare softened—just a fraction—into something fond despite herself.

She shifted the twins to one arm, pointing at Jaune with her free hand. "No groupies."

Jaune stepped forward, kissed her cheek—then the top of each twin's head. "The only groupie I want is my wife."

Glynda's cheeks pinked. Dorothy—still bouncing to the silent rhythm in her head—made an exaggerated gagging noise.

"Ewwww, kissing!"

Sun grinned down at her. "You might not mind so much when you get older, kiddo."

Dorothy crossed her arms, chin high. "I'll never like boys. I like girls!"

The garage went dead silent.

Glynda and Jaune stared at their daughter in matching wide-eyed horror.

Neptune and Sun lost it—doubling over, howling with laughter.

Ren—still behind the drums—allowed himself the tiniest smirk.

Glynda recovered first, voice strangled. "Dorothy Arc-Goodwitch, we will discuss this later. Much later. When you're thirty."

"Nuh uh!"

"Yes huh," Jaune and Glynda said sternly.

"Bet that will be a laugh," Neptune chuckled.

"I'm telling Tangy," Jaune said flatly. Neptune went pale.

"I didn't say anything! I swear!" He gasped.

"Whipped," Sun coughed. Neptune glared at him.

"Like you can talk!"

"Like any of us can talk," Ren pointed out.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Hastinpur Palace, Pandu

Seven years after Salem's defeat

- - -

The late-afternoon sun painted the marble corridors of the east wing in soft gold. Maia Sarkara-Arc, queen of Pandu and very pregnant with her second child, pressed her back to a carved pillar and listened.

The guards' boots echoed past the junction-right on schedule. She waited three more heartbeats, then darted down the narrow service stair that only the royal family still remembered existed. Her dress hem whispered against the stone; one hand cradled the gentle swell of her belly.

"Easy, little one," she murmured, smiling despite the ache in her lower back. "Mama just needs five minutes without someone asking if I've eaten, drunk water, or taken my vitamins in the last thirty seconds."

The hidden balcony was exactly where she remembered: tucked behind a false wall in the old observatory tower, overlooking the royal gardens but invisible from every patrol route. She sank onto the stone bench with a grateful sigh, kicked off her sandals, and let her bare feet rest on cool marble. The scent of night-blooming jasmine drifted up from below. For the first time all day she could breathe.

She had maybe four minutes of peace before a familiar pair of arms slid around her from behind.

"Found you," Jaune whispered against her ear, voice warm with laughter.

May startled, then melted back against his chest with a mock-scowl. "You're supposed to be drilling the new recruits on the western ramparts."

"I was," he said, settling beside her and immediately pulling her feet into his lap so he could rub the arches. "Then I noticed the east-wing patrol had an extra man on it-because someone had 'borrowed' a uniform jacket and left it in the laundry chute again." He tapped the tiny crest embroidered on her sleeve. "You're getting sloppy, Your Highness."

"I am not," she protested, cheeks pink. "I just… needed a minute. The baby's been dancing on my bladder since breakfast, and every advisor in the kingdom wants to talk about trade negotiations or the new irrigation system or-ugh." She waved a hand. "I love being home. I love being queen. But sometimes I miss the days when I could just disappear up a tree with my rifle and a book."

Jaune's thumbs worked a knot out of her instep; she practically purred.

"I know," he said softly. "That's why I keep the old service routes clear. And why I always check the observatory first." His blue eyes-still the same earnest farm-boy blue even after years of royal life-crinkled at the corners. "You're allowed to hide, Maia. You just can't hide from me. Captain's orders."

May laughed, the sound bright and fond. "Captain, husband, consort, and royal pain in my very pregnant backside." She reached up to trace the faint scar along his jaw-the one he'd earned the day he saved her from a Salem Cultist Assassin. "You're lucky I love you."

"Extremely lucky," he agreed, leaning in until their foreheads touched. "And you're lucky I love you enough to let you think you're still sneaky."

The baby chose that moment to give a particularly vigorous kick. May winced; Jaune's hand moved instantly to her belly, palm warm and steady.

"Hey, easy on your mother, little one," he murmured. "She's already done enough running for both of you today."

May covered his hand with hers. "She's going to be just like me, you know. Sneaking out of the nursery and-and all.."

Jaune grinned. "Then I'll just have to make sure her father knows every secret passage in the kingdom. Family tradition."

For a long minute they sat in the quiet gold light, jasmine-scented breeze stirring May's hair, Jaune's fingers still gently massaging her feet. The palace below them-her home, their home-hummed with life: distant laughter of courtiers, the clang of training swords, the soft bells of the evening temple service.

May turned her face into his shoulder. "Thank you for always finding me."

"Always," he promised, kissing the top of her head. "Even when you're eight months pregnant and trying to out-stealth the entire royal guard. Especially then."

She smiled against his shirt. "Good. Because I have a feeling this one's going to be even worse than I was. August is already able to use Aura Vision-His little sister will be even worse!"

Jaune chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Then we'll just have to be twice as good at hide-and-seek."

Below them, the sun dipped lower, painting Hastinpur in the deep rose and saffron of a Pandu sunset. And in their hidden corner of the palace, the captain of the guard and his very sneaky queen sat together-feet up, hands linked over the new life growing between them-perfectly content to let the world spin on without them for just a little while longer.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Radian Cathedral, Gallia, Vale

Five years after Salem's defeat

- - -

The dressing room smelled like lilies, hairspray, and barely-contained panic.

Yang Xiao Long stood in front of the full-length mirror in a flowing white gown that somehow managed to look both elegant and sexy-Even with her pregnancy. Six months pregnant, her belly curved proudly under the silk, and her golden hair had been twisted into soft waves that framed her face. She looked beautiful. She looked terrified.

Weiss fussed with the train, Winter adjusted the veil with military precision, and Blake stood off to the side offering quiet, steady reassurance.

"It's fine, Yang," Blake said gently, "It's all going to be fine."

"I'm fine," Yang said for the fifth time in two minutes. Her voice cracked. "Totally fine. One hundred percent fine. Why wouldn't I be fine? I'm getting married. To Jaune. The guy who literally brought me back from being a dragon. No big deal. Except—what if I just… hopped on Bumblebee right now? Revved the engine, hit the highway, and kept going until I hit Vacuo? I could be in the desert by sundown. Sand in my hair, wind in my face, no responsibilities—"

"Yang," Weiss cut in sharply, "you are six months pregnant. You are not hopping on anything with two wheels."

Winter nodded once, arms crossed. "And even if you weren't, I would tackle you before you reached the parking lot."

Blake stepped closer, ears twitching. "Yang. Breathe. You're spiraling."

"I'm not spiraling!" Yang's hands fluttered over her belly. "I'm just… thinking. Logically. What if I turn out exactly like Mom? What if I get scared and run and leave Jaune holding the baby and—oh gods, what if the kid grows up wondering why Mommy disappeared on a motorcycle like some bad country song?"

The door burst open. Ruby skidded in, bouquet already slightly crushed from nerves. "Yang! I heard you from the hallway! You're not running! You're getting married! To Jaune! Our Jaune! The one who makes terrible puns and still blushes when you kiss him in public!"

Yang's eyes were wide, verging on hysteria. "Ruby, I love him so much it hurts, but what if love isn't enough? What if I ruin everything? What if—"

Weiss grabbed Yang's shoulders firmly. "Xiao Long, you will calm down. You are carrying my future niece or nephew and I refuse to deliver emotional support in a desert because you decided to reenact your mother's greatest hits."

Blake exchanged a quick look with Ruby, then slipped out the door without another word.

A minute later the door opened again. Blake returned, gently pushing Jaune Arc inside. He was already in his tux-simple, classic, the jacket straining just a little across his broad shoulders. The horrible scar across his neck stood out stark against his collar: the jagged line where Cinder had nearly taken his head, and where Yang-in her dragon form-had bitten him in blind, grief-fueled rage during the chaos of the Ever After.

The other women quietly filed out. Ruby gave Yang a quick thumbs-up and a watery smile before closing the door behind them.

Jaune crossed the room in three strides and pulled Yang into his arms, holding her tight against his chest. She buried her face in his shoulder, the white veil crumpling between them. Soft, shaky sniffles turned into quiet sobs.

"What are you afraid of, Yang?" he asked gently, one hand stroking her back, the other cradling the back of her head.

"I… What if… What if I run away?" she whispered, voice breaking. "What if I leave you and… and our kid behind like my mom?"

Jaune's arms tightened. "Yang… Yang. First… you never cut and run against Salem. Not once. You fought tooth and nail, even when you were a dragon. And second?" He pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes, that familiar, steady blue gaze unwavering. "You really think I wouldn't track you down to the ends of Remnant and bring you back?"

Yang let out a wet, broken scoff. "I nearly killed you… I… I'm so scared…" Another shaky breath. "I'm so scared…"

Jaune cupped her face, thumbs brushing away tears. "And that's what courage means. Conquering your fear… not letting it win. You're not your mother, Yang. You never will be. You stayed. You fought. You came back to me. Every single time."

Yang sniffled hard, leaning into his touch. "…You're right… You're right… I'm just… I'm just so stupid…"

Jaune smiled softly, pressing his forehead to hers. "You're pregnant and getting married. Of course you're gonna act stupid."

Yang let out a watery laugh despite herself. "…You're really tempting me to get even more emotional, you know. Like with my fists."

"I know…" He grinned, that crooked, boyish smile she loved so much. "Which is how stupid I am, huh? Stupidly in love with you."

Yang laughed again, louder this time, the sound breaking through the tears. "That was terrible…"

"I know…"

She looked up at him, eyes shining. "I loved it…" Then she leaned in and kissed him—soft at first, then deeper, her hands sliding up to paw at the lapels of his tuxedo.

Jaune groaned against her mouth but gently caught her wrists, pulling back just enough. "Y-Yang! We gotta get married first!"

"Fine… Fine…" She rested her forehead against his, breathing hard, a wicked little spark returning to her lilac eyes. "But after? You'd better get me to the limo fast… 'Cause I might not be able to wait~."

Jaune let out a long, suffering groan, cheeks flushing. "Great… Now I won't be able to either."

Yang laughed again-bright, real, and full of love-then kissed him once more, softer this time. "Good. Gives us something to look forward to."

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Radian Cathedral, Gallia, Vale

Five years after Salem's defeat

- - -

The dressing room was pure chaos wrapped in white silk and rose petals.

Ruby Rose stood in the center of it all, absolutely radiant in her wedding gown—except for the fact that she looked two seconds away from launching herself out the nearest window like a human Crescent Rose bullet.

"I can't do this!" she squeaked, pacing in a tight circle, veil flapping behind her like a battle standard. "What if I trip over my own feet? What if my normal knees just-just give out? What if I burst out of the room screaming and everyone sees me running down the aisle backwards? What if-?!"

"Ruby," Weiss said, voice sharp but fond as she tried to pin the veil back in place, "you are not going to burst out of anywhere. You're my best friend and you will walk down that aisle like the elegant, graceful Huntress you are."

"Elegant? Me?" Ruby flailed her arms. "I still trip over air on a good day! And these knees—my normal knees—are not built for weddings! They're built for scythe-swinging and cookie-baking, not slow dignified walking while everyone stares at me!"

Blake stepped in smoothly, hands gentle on Ruby's shoulders. "Deep breaths. You've faced Salem. You've faced Tyrian. You can face walking twenty feet in heels."

Yang, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed and a grin that was half-sisterly affection, half-amusement, chuckled. "Besides, if your knees betray you, Jaune will just carry you the rest of the way. He's done it before."

"That's not helping!" Ruby wailed.

Penny Polendina hovered nearby, green eyes wide with helpful concern, her legs making soft whirring sounds every time she shifted.

"Friend Ruby, your knees are functioning at ninety-eight point seven percent efficiency! I have been monitoring your vitals since we started getting ready. There is only a zero-point-three percent chance of catastrophic knee failure!"

Ruby's eyes widened as she began to tremble.

Weiss pinched the bridge of her nose. "Penny, that is… somehow making it worse."

Yang waved her hands. "Yeah, not helping! We're trying to calm her down, not wind her up!"

Ruby's silver eyes were wide and panicked. "See? Even Penny knows my knees are doomed! I'm gonna trip, fall on my face, and our babies will think their mom is the clumsiest person on Remnant and-!"

Penny's rockets fired with a cheerful whoosh. She shot out of the room like a mint-green missile before anyone could stop her.

Ruby blinked. "What the heck is she—?"

Thirty seconds later Penny rocketed back in, one metallic arm wrapped firmly around Jaune Arc's waist as she carried him bridal-style through the doorway. Jaune looked equal parts startled and resigned, still half in his tux, artificial right hand twitching slightly at his side.

Weiss shrieked. "PENNY! They're not supposed to see each other before the ceremony!"

Penny tilted her head innocently, still hovering with Jaune in her arms. "Query: Do the bride and groom need to be blinded? I can provide sensory deprivation goggles if traditional superstition requires temporary visual obstruction-?"

"Penny!" Yang barked, already herding the others toward the door. "Out. All of you. Now."

Blake gave Ruby an encouraging nod. Weiss muttered something about "ridiculous robot logic" under her breath. Yang shot her sister a quick thumbs-up before closing the door firmly behind them, leaving Ruby and Jaune alone.

Ruby stared at him, veil slightly askew, hands hovering protectively over her belly. "Jaune… what is it? You look… off."

Jaune rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand, the artificial right one still giving occasional little jerks. "It's nothing."

Ruby's eyes narrowed. "Jaune Arc. Spill."

He sighed, holding up the malfunctioning hand. The fingers twitched again, servos making a soft grinding sound. "It's… glitching a bit. Started this morning. I thought I could tough it out until after the ceremony."

Ruby's panic evaporated instantly, replaced by that familiar focused Huntress-engineer glare. She marched over (knees apparently forgetting they were supposed to be traitorous), dropped to her knees despite the dress, and pulled a small emergency repair kit out of… somewhere inside her gown.

Not that Jaune commented on that: He knew her too well.

"You absolute dork," she scolded gently, already popping open a panel on his wrist and fiddling with the micro-tools. "Why didn't you tell me? I could've fixed this last night!"

Jaune smiled down at her, soft and warm.

"In all the excitement of the wedding… I thought I'd tell you after. Didn't want to stress you out more."

Ruby sighed, carefully recalibrating a servo. "Jaune… I'll always be here for you. That's what marriage is all about. Does it always have to be you taking on more hardship by yourself? We... We promised we'd never be like that. Never again."

He watched her work, the artificial hand slowly steadying under her touch. "I'm the tank. The shield. That's my job."

Ruby scoffed, closing the panel with a satisfied click and giving the hand a test flex. It moved smoothly now. "We're more than our roles, dummy. You don't have to carry everything alone. Not anymore."

Jaune's expression softened. He reached down with his newly-fixed hand—warm, steady—and gently cupped her cheek. "Yes… and the same goes for you." He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, right through the veil. "My knees might be normal, but I still need you to catch me sometimes too."

Ruby rose up on her toes (knees behaving perfectly, thank you very much) and kissed him properly: Soft, sweet, then deeper as her arms looped around his neck. Jaune pulled her closer, careful of her belly, and for a moment the entire world narrowed down to just the two of them.

The door cracked open.

Weiss's voice cut through like a rapier. "Save that for the honeymoon, you two! We still have a ceremony to get through!"

Ruby pulled back with a sheepish giggle, cheeks flushed, silver eyes sparkling. Jaune just grinned, resting his forehead against hers.

"Ready?" he whispered.

Ruby took a deep breath, squeezed his repaired hand, and nodded. "Yeah… I think my normal knees are gonna be just fine."

She kissed him one more time—quick and full of promise—then let Weiss drag her back toward the mirror for final adjustments.

Jaune lingered in the doorway a second longer, watching her with that same look he'd had since Beacon: like she hung the moon and stars and built them herself.

"See you at the altar, Crater Face," he teased softly.

Ruby stuck her tongue out at him, but she was smiling brighter than any silver-eyed blast. "You better be there, Vomit Boy. Or I'm coming after you."