[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."

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Arc-Atlan Farmhouse, Radian, Vale

11 years after Salem's defeat

- - -

The living-room fire crackled low and golden. Jaune sat in the big worn armchair with Arslan curled against his side, her head on his shoulder. Five children were gathered at their feet like a litter of curious kittens amidst wrapped chocolates and gifts.

Petra, seven and already fierce, leaned against Jaune's good knee. Neptune, five, sprawled on his stomach with his chin in his hands. Kazuma, four, sat cross-legged and solemn. Lucy, three, clutched a stuffed lion and sucked her thumb. In twin carriers beside Arslan's chair, baby Susan and Peter fussed softly in their tiny Sunday best:Susan in a miniature white dress, Peter in a miniature black suit.

Jaune's voice, warm and steady, filled the room as he read from the old leather-bound book.

"And the White Witch said unto Aslan, 'You have come to die in the traitor's stead.' And Aslan answered, 'It is so.' Then they bound the Great Lion and shaved his mane and dragged him to the Stone Table. There the Witch raised her knife and slew him, and the sky grew dark, and all the world seemed to weep with Lucy and Susan...

"But lo, when the sun rose again upon the first light of morning, the Stone Table cracked asunder from end to end. And Aslan stood before them, whole and alive, his mane restored and his eyes brighter than the dawn. And he said unto the girls:

"'There is a deeper magic from before the dawn of time. When a willing victim who has committed no wrong is slain in the traitor's stead, the Table will crack and Death itself will begin to work backwards.'"

Jaune closed the book gently.

Petra's eyes were shining. "Dad would've charged right in and saved Aslan," she declared. "He wouldn't have let the Witch touch him."

Arslan smiled, soft and proud, and brushed a lock of hair from Petra's face. "I know he would have tried, sweetheart. But Aslan had to die. For Edmund. For all of us."

Neptune sat up, brow furrowed. "Why?"

Jaune rested a hand on his son's head. "To save us all, buddy. Sometimes the only way to beat the darkness is to let it think it's won… and then come back anyway."

The children absorbed that in silence for a moment. Then Jaune clapped his hands once. "All right, story time's over. Go get ready for church: best clothes, best behavior. Aurora's Day waits for no one."

The older four scrambled up with excited chatter and thundered upstairs. Arslan chuckled, already reaching into the carriers to straighten Susan's little dress and Peter's tiny suit. The babies fussed and kicked, unhappy at being confined.

Jaune rose carefully—his artificial leg giving its familiar soft mechanical click—and stepped behind his wife. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on top of her head.

"I'm very thankful for you this day," he murmured against her hair.

Arslan giggled, a low, warm sound, and leaned back into him, nuzzling his jaw. "And I for you, my knight."

She was quiet a moment, watching the twins settle under her gentle hands. Then, softer:

"The Blacksmith… in the Ever After… offered to let me die. To come back as someone new. A clean slate."

Jaune's arms tightened. "She offered me the same."

Arslan turned just enough to meet his eyes. "I still find that whole place… distressing. She never said what she truly was. Or what the Brothers were. It makes me wonder if my faith is strong enough when I doubt like this. After all this time...

Her eyes fell slightly, meeting his chin.

Jaune kissed the top of her head. "She was an angel of God, I think. And the Brothers… fallen ones. That's the only thing that makes sense to me."

Arslan nodded slowly. "I think that too. But the worry remains. What if my faith isn't strong enough?"

"Doubt is natural," Jaune said quietly. "What matters is how we live. Besides… faith wouldn't be faith if we knew for sure, right?"

Arslan's smile returned, small and grateful. She turned fully in his arms and kissed him. It was slow, tender, full of years of shared battles and quiet mornings.

Well, once quiet mornings.

The thunder of small feet announced the older children's return. Petra, Neptune, Kazuma, and Lucy barreled in, scrubbed and dressed and vibrating with Aurora's Day excitement.

Jaune adjusted his artificial leg one last time, then offered Arslan his arm. She gathered the twins, Susan in one carrier, Peter in the other, and slipped her free hand into his.

Together they stepped out into the bright Radian morning, the whole family moving as one toward the pick up truck.

Petra skipped ahead, already eager and energetic.

"Do we get to keep the eggs we find?" Neptune asked.

"Of course we do, stupid!" Petra laughed. Neptune scowled.

"Mama! She called me stupid!"

"Cause you are!"

"Nuh uh! Lucy's stupid!"

"Am not!" Lucy cried, tears already coming to her eyes.

"Behave, children!" Jaune ordered sternly. "Petra, apologize."

Petra, contrite, bowed her head.

"Sorry Neptune."

Neptune sniffled. Petra took his hand, and he smiled softly.

"Kazuma," Arslan spoke, "Hold Lucy's hand and help her."

Kazuma held her hand with a smile. Lucy stopped crying, and hugged him. The babies cooed.

They piled into the truck. Jaune put the twins into their car seats. Arslan managed the other kids. They slid into the front seats, and sighed. Jaune smiled and squeezed her hand. She squeezed back.

"And yes," Arslan said, "You do get to keep the eggs."

"YAY!" Cheered the children, as Jaune started the truck up and eased it down the driveway, into the warm morning light.

- - -

For those who celebrate: Happy Easter! And even if you don't celebrate: Happy Easter! I hope you have a good day.

I decided, after a lot of thought, to name the holiday that corresponded to Easter "Aurora Fracta" (Broken Dawn in Latin): Aurora for short. Easter is derived from an Old English/Germanic word ēastre, which is believed to be named after an Anglo-Saxon goddess of spring and dawn. This term is linked to the Proto-Germanic root austron-, meaning "dawn." Aurora thus continues the tradition of using pagan god names and words for Christian holidays. Which does not make them pagan, they just made the words fit a new holiday.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Solitas, Atlas, Schnee Manor

Seven Years After Salem's Defeat
- - -

The grand foyer of the Schnee Mansion was quiet in that particular way only old money and reinforced Atlesian architecture could manage—thick carpets swallowing footsteps, crystal chandeliers dimmed to a soft glow, the faint scent of pine from the Aslanmas wreaths still lingering even weeks later.

Winter Schnee-Arc pushed open the heavy oak door with her shoulder, uniform jacket already half-unbuttoned, silver hair escaping its tight bun in exhausted wisps. The weight of the day:endless staff meetings, reconstruction budgets, border skirmish reports, and the constant, gnawing knowledge that every decision she made now would echo for decades... It all sat heavy on her shoulders like the rebuilt Atlas itself.

She barely made it three steps inside before the familiar sounds of domestic chaos reached her.

"No! Mine!"

"Mine first!"

Two small voices were engaged in a full-scale territorial dispute on the sitting room rug. Theodore (three years old, already showing the stubborn set of his mother's jaw) was clutching one end of a toy airship, while Pyrrha (two, blonde curls wild, blue eyes flashing with pure determination) had both chubby hands locked on the other end.

"Give! Give!"

"P'rrha bad! My ship!"

Jaune—still wearing that ridiculous frilly apron Klein had gifted him last year—knelt between them with the calm patience of a man who had faced down Grimm, gods, and far too many Arc family arguments.

"Alright, alright," he said gently, prying little fingers loose without force. "We don't fight over toys. We share. Or we take turns. Theodore, you had it first. Pyrrha, you can have it when he's done. Five minutes each."

Both toddlers immediately turned betrayed eyes on their father.

"But Da-aaaad—"

"Five minutes," Jaune repeated, voice warm but firm. He scooped Pyrrha up with one arm and Theodore with the other, settling them easily against his chest as if they weighed nothing. "Or we put the ship away until tomorrow."

The threat worked. Both children subsided into grudging huffs.

Klein appeared at Winter's side as if by magic, pressing a steaming cup of chamomile-lavender tea into her hands.

"Welcome home, Mistress Winter," the old butler murmured, voice soft with understanding. "Long day?"

Winter sank into the nearest armchair with a grateful sigh, cradling the cup like a lifeline.

"Every day is a long day," she admitted quietly.

Jaune looked up from the children and smiled: that soft, steady smile that still made something warm uncoil in her chest even after all these years. He crossed the room and settled on the wide arm of her chair, carefully balancing both toddlers in his lap so they could lean against her as well.

Theodore immediately reached for the silver braiding on her uniform. Pyrrha tucked her face into Winter's shoulder with a contented little sigh.

Winter closed her eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of her family seep into her bones.

"I only took this job to try and keep the pace after beating Salem…" she murmured, voice heavy with exhaustion. "Now I barely see you and the kids."

Jaune's free arm slipped around her shoulders, pulling her gently against his side.

"You're home almost every night," he pointed out softly.

Winter let her head rest against his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of flour, soap, and Jaune.

"That's not good enough."

Jaune chuckled quietly, the sound rumbling through his chest.

"Well… I'm the retired Huntsman-"

"You're here," Winter interrupted, voice cracking just a little. "Where things matter."

Jaune pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

"You're there too. That matters."

Klein, who had been quietly straightening a few cushions, let out a long, theatrical sigh.

"You're both so stubborn." He shook his head fondly. "Master Jaune, Mistress Winter… you both love one another and your children. So let's skip this little dance for one night, shall we, Mistress Winter?"

He headed toward the door, pausing only to give her a knowing look over his shoulder.

Winter snorted, though the corners of her mouth twitched upward.

"You think you know everything about me, don't you?"

Klein paused in the doorway, eyes twinkling with decades of quiet devotion.

"I powdered your bottom, Mistress. I ought to!"

The door clicked shut behind him.

Jaune tried-valiantly-to stifle his laughter. He failed. A soft snort escaped, then another, until his shoulders were shaking.

Winter turned her head just enough to glare at him, but there was no real heat in it.

"Don't you dare."

Jaune bit his lip, eyes sparkling with mirth as he hugged both children and his wife a little closer.

"Yes, ma'am."

Pyrrha, oblivious to the adults' conversation, patted Winter's cheek with one sticky hand and declared sleepily, "Mama home."

Theodore nodded solemnly against her other shoulder. "Mama stay."

Winter's glare melted. She wrapped one arm around Jaune's waist and the other around her children, letting the exhaustion finally settle into something softer.

"…Yes," she whispered. "Mama's staying."

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Radian Chapel, Gallia, Vale

Five years after Salem's defeat

- - -

The small chapel on the edge of the Arc family lands smelled of white lilies, polished wood, and the faint scent of smoke that seemed to follow Cinder Fall no matter how many years passed.

She stood before the tall mirror in the side room that served as a bridal chamber, staring at the woman looking back at her. The dress was simple—ivory silk with subtle crimson accents at the hem and sleeves, chosen because anything too pure would have felt like a lie. Her hair was swept up, the usual wild mane tamed into soft waves. The glass eye she had worn for five years gleamed like molten gold in the soft light.

Cinder's hands trembled slightly as she adjusted the veil.

"I look… ridiculous," she muttered.

Emerald, standing behind her in a deep green bridesmaid dress, smiled with wet eyes. "You look beautiful, Cinder."

Mercury leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, trying and failing to look unimpressed. "Yeah, well, don't trip over the train and set the chapel on fire. Again."

Neo, perched on a windowsill and eating a cupcake, gave a silent thumbs-up and a wicked little grin.

Cinder huffed a laugh that sounded more like a sob. "I still can't believe he said yes. After everything I did… after the mountain, after Beacon, after-"

A soft knock interrupted her. The door opened just enough for Blake and Ruby to slip inside, followed by Yang and Weiss. The three of them had become unlikely constants in this strange new life: Proof that even the worst sins could be outlived.

Yang grinned, golden hair loose and bright. "You ready to walk down that aisle, Fall? Or should we start taking bets on whether you bolt?"

"I'm not bolting," Cinder said sharply, then quieter, "I… I'm terrified."

Weiss stepped forward and straightened Cinder's veil with surprisingly gentle hands. "Good. Means it matters. Jaune's waiting for you. If he can survive the Ever After, he can survive marrying you."

Blake offered a small, knowing smile. "You chose this. You chose him. That's more than most of us ever get."

Ruby beamed.

"Besides... We saved the world. We should get happy endings, right?"

Cinder closed her eyes for a long moment. When she opened them again, the old fire was still there, but softer now, tempered.

Outside, the organ began to play.

Emerald took her arm. "Come on. Your future husband is probably sweating through his tux wondering if you're going to show up."

The walk down the aisle felt longer than any battlefield Cinder had ever crossed.

Jaune stood at the front in a simple black tux, his beard neatly trimmed and cut, the scars on his neck and face catching the stained-glass light. He looked at her like she was the only thing in the world.

When she reached him, he took both her hands and whispered, just for her, "You came."

"I almost didn't," she admitted, voice barely audible. "Old habits."

Jaune smiled, the same crooked, farm-boy smile that had somehow survived everything. "I would've come after you. Like I always do."

The ceremony was short and simple. Vows were spoken-hers shaky at first, his steady as stone. When Father Percival asked if anyone had objections, the entire chapel held its breath for half a second before a collective sigh of relief swept through.

Then came the kiss.

Cinder expected something chaste and proper. Instead Jaune pulled her close, one hand at the small of her back, the other cupping her cheek, and kissed her like a man who had survived decades alone in a mad dimension just to see her again.

Like he always did.

When they broke apart, the chapel erupted in cheers. Emerald was openly crying. Mercury pretended to gag but couldn't hide his grin. Neo tossed flower petals with theatrical flair. Yang whooped loud enough to rattle the rafters, while Ruby cheered while jumping up and down. Even Weiss dabbed at her eyes while pretending it was dust.

Later, at the small reception in the Arc family barn (because Jaune had insisted on something "normal"), Cinder found herself leaning against Jaune's side as their friends and strange new family danced and laughed around them.

She watched the firelight play across his face and asked quietly, "Do you ever regret it? Choosing this… choosing me?"

Jaune turned her toward him, resting his forehead against hers. "Every day I wake up next to you is the opposite of regret, Cinder. You're not the woman who tried to burn the world anymore. You're the woman who helped rebuild it. With me."

Cinder's throat tightened. She reached up and traced the worst of the scars on his wrists-the ones her own hand had once helped create.

"I still see the ashes sometimes," she whispered.

"I know," he said. "But I see the garden we planted in them."

Cinder snorted.

"You're so corny."

"Well, I am a farm boy."

Cinder barely hid her smile as she leaned against him.

"That joke's not going to get old any time soon..."

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Haven Academy, Mistral

The day after the battle, Ten Months After Vytal

- - -

The stone bench outside the old chapel was cold, worn smooth by decades of resting students. Jaune Arc sat with his back against the wall, armor still streaked with soot and dried blood. Arslan leaned against his side, her own armor dented and scratched, golden hair matted with sweat.

They were both exhausted. The battle against Cinder and her group had been won—barely—but the real war was only beginning. Delegates from Pandu, Argus, Vale, and Menagerie were already arguing in the main hall about supply lines, troop movements, and how to reach Atlas before Salem's forces could regroup. Ruby and the rest of their friends were in the thick of it. Jaune and Arslan had slipped away between meetings, hands finding each other like they always did when the world grew too loud.

Jaune tilted his head toward the chapel doors. "It's weird they kept this place. Mistral's been hostile to the Tablebreaker Church for generations."

Arslan hummed softly, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the back of his hand. "Appearances. The old regime had to pretend they weren't completely oppressive. A single chapel on academy grounds was a small price to pay for looking tolerant."

Jaune gave a tired chuckle. "Politics. Even faith gets turned into a bargaining chip."

They rose together, still holding hands, and pushed open the heavy wooden doors.

Inside, the chapel had been cleaned—someone had swept the floors and wiped down the pews—but it still carried the scent of long neglect: dust, old incense, and the faint metallic tang of abandoned candle holders. Sunlight filtered through cracked stained-glass windows depicting the Tablebreaker and disciples, casting fractured colors across the stone.

Arslan's expression softened as she looked around. A small, almost wistful smile touched her lips.

"I got lost here once," she said quietly. "During a film festival when I was very small. I wandered away from my parents, then started shouting for them until my voice gave out. I ended up in this chapel, crying, and finally fell asleep on one of the pews."

Jaune squeezed her hand, listening.

"When I woke up," Arslan continued, "a kindly male Lion Faunus was kneeling beside me. He had a warm voice and gentle eyes. He asked, 'Arslan, why are you sleeping?' I told him I was lost. He nodded and said he understood. Even though I didn't know him, I felt… completely safe. Like I could trust him with anything."

She paused, eyes distant with memory.

"He took my hand and told me my parents would be here soon. Then he asked what I wanted to do with my life. I said I didn't know, but I wanted to do good things and help people. He told me it would be very difficult. That I would have to be brave." Arslan's voice grew quieter. "I said it was hard to be brave because I was always scared. He answered that being brave wasn't about not having fear. It was about controlling it long enough to do what needed to be done."

Arslan looked up at the fractured light on the altar.

"The doors opened. My mother and father rushed in and hugged me so tightly I thought I might break. I tried to tell them about the nice man who had helped me… but when I turned around, he was gone. No one else had seen him."

Jaune was quiet for a long moment. "That's… spooky."

"At first, yes," Arslan admitted with a small laugh. "But later… I realized it must have been Aslan."

Jaune met her eyes without hesitation. "I believe you."

Arslan's smile was soft and grateful. "I'm glad. There are times I still wonder about it… about my faith. Whether it's strong enough when moments like that feel so… impossible."

"You?" Jaune asked, surprised. "Doubting?"

Arslan gave a tired, rueful laugh. "Do you not also doubt God and yourself sometimes, Jaune?"

He exhaled slowly, leaning back against the pew. "…Yeah. Sometimes. Less now."

"It is the same for me," she said. "That moment, though… I suppose it taught me that I have to be brave, even when I'm scared. Just as Arslan was. Just as we must be."

Jaune nodded, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "It's the only time you can be brave."

They sat together on the old wooden pew in silence for a while, shoulders touching, letting the quiet of the neglected chapel wrap around them like a blanket. The distant sounds of alliance negotiations filtered in faintly—raised voices, the clatter of maps and scrolls, Nora bellowing about 'stupid politics SMASH!—but here, for these few stolen minutes, the world felt smaller and kinder.

Arslan leaned her head against his shoulder. "Thank you."

Jaune pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "For what?"

"For listening. For believing. For sitting here with me when we both have a hundred things we should be doing."

He smiled against her hair. "We'll get back to saving the world in a minute. Right now… I think the world can wait five more minutes for us."

Arslan's hand found his again and held on tight.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Royal Palace, Hastinpur, Pandu

Five years after Salem's defeat

- - -

The air smelled of jasmine, sandalwood, and the faint sweetness of marigold garlands strung everywhere. May Sarkara stood in the private antechamber just off the main garden pavilion, dressed in the traditional red-and-gold bridal lehenga that had been passed down through the queens of Pandu for generations. Intricate henna patterns covered her hands and arms, and a heavy dupatta draped over her head and shoulders. She looked every inch the queen she had become.

And she was quietly panicking.

"I can't do this," she whispered, fingers twisting in the edge of her dupatta. "It's ridiculous. I helped broker the alliance that saved Remnant. I stood in war councils with kings and generals. I faced down Salem with a gun without ammo. And yet here I am, about to walk down an aisle, and my knees feel like they're made of jelly."

Saia Sarkara, radiant in deep crimson as the former queen and proud mother, stepped forward and gently took her daughter's trembling hands.

"That is perfectly normal, my little star," Saia said softly, her voice warm with years of wisdom and love. "You have commanded armies and negotiated peace between kingdoms, but this… this is giving your heart to someone forever. It is allowed to feel big."

Ruby Rose bounced on her toes beside them, her own dress a cheerful mix of red and white that somehow still looked Huntress-ready. "You're gonna be great, May! And you're gonna make Jaune so happy. He already looks at you like you hung every star in the sky. Besides… he makes you happy, right?"

May's cheeks flushed beneath the delicate makeup. She managed a small, shy smile. "Yes. More than I ever thought possible."

Weiss Schnee adjusted the drape of May's dupatta with precise, caring fingers. "Then focus on that. The rest is just ceremony. You've faced worse than a wedding."

Yang Xiao Long grinned, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, her own golden dress catching the light like fire. "Exactly. Walk out there, look at your man, and remember you're the same woman who helped save the world. A little red carpet and some flowers aren't going to break you."

May took a deep, steadying breath. "You're all right. It's just… this feels more important than any battle. This is the rest of my life."

Saia kissed her daughter's forehead. "And it will be a beautiful one. Now go. Your king is waiting."

May nodded, squared her shoulders like she was stepping onto a battlefield, and slowly walked out into the garden pavilion.

The crowd—royalty and warriors from every kingdom that had stood against Salem—fell into a respectful hush as she appeared. But May barely noticed them.

Her father, Arjun Sarkara, waited at the edge of the aisle. The former king stood tall despite the loss of his right arm and left leg, both replaced by finely crafted Pandu prosthetics that gleamed with subtle gold inlay. He wore his best ceremonial attire, simple yet regal, and his eyes shone with fierce pride as he offered his remaining arm to his daughter.

"You look like your mother on our wedding day," he said quietly.

May slipped her arm through his, gripping a little tighter than she meant to. "Thank you, Papa."

He guided her down the aisle with steady, measured steps. At the end stood Jaune. He was dressed in classic Pandu groom's attire of rich gold and deep blue, the long sherwani embroidered with intricate patterns that matched May's own. His blond hair was neatly combed, and the warm, steady smile he gave her made the entire world narrow down until only the two of them remained.

The crowd, the music, the flowers, the weight of two kingdoms watching-it all faded away. There was only Jaune, looking at her like she was the most precious thing in Remnant.

They stood before the priest and the sacred fire. Vows were spoken, traditional Pandu promises of partnership, protection, and lifelong devotion, mixed with the simpler, heartfelt words they had written together. Jaune's voice never wavered. May's started soft but grew stronger with every word, until she was speaking with the same quiet certainty she used when leading troops or negotiating treaties.

When the priest tied the mangalsutra around her neck and they circled the fire seven times, May felt something settle deep in her chest. This was right.

This was home.

The moment the ceremony ended, the garden erupted into joyous chaos. Drums pounded, cheers rang out, and the party began in full Pandu fashion—loud, colorful, and overflowing with life. Dancers spun, guests laughed and embraced, and plates of fragrant food circulated endlessly.

But through it all, May kept her hand firmly in Jaune's.

He leaned close during a particularly raucous song, voice warm against her ear. "You okay, Your Majesty?"

May smiled up at him, the nervous flutter from earlier completely gone. "I'm perfect. Everything else… it's just noise. As long as I have you, the rest doesn't matter."

Jaune squeezed her hand and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, right where her maang tikka rested. "Then I'm never letting go."

They stood together in the middle of the celebration-queen and consort, warrior and shield-surrounded by the uproarious happiness of a world they had helped save. May's heart felt full to bursting, steady and sure.

She had faced down terrorists, helped forge alliances that spanned continents, and stared into the face of darkness itself.

Marrying the man she loved?

That was the easiest thing she had ever done.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Radian, Gallia, Vale

Eight Years after Salem's defeat...

- - -

The Arc-Xiao Long household on the outskirts of Patch was rarely quiet, but tonight the usual cheerful chaos had been replaced by one very loud, very persistent four-year-old.

"WAAAAAHHHHH!"

Xia stood in the middle of the living room in her little yellow pajamas, tears streaming down her face as she wailed at the top of her lungs. Her golden pigtails bounced with every sob. No amount of coaxing, hugging, or offering of cookies had worked.

Jaune knelt in front of her, gently rubbing her back while Yang paced nearby, brows furrowed in concern.

"Sweetie, you gotta tell us what's wrong," Jaune said softly. "Is your tummy hurt? Did you have a bad dream?"

Xia just shook her head and kept crying.

Yang checked the twins first, three-year-old Yin and Pyrrha, both sound asleep in their shared room, tangled together like puppies. Then she peeked into the nursery where one and a half years old Shirou and six-month-old Clover were peacefully drooling on their blankets. Nothing. No monsters under the beds. No broken toys. No scary shadows.

"Everything's fine, sweetie," Yang said, returning to the living room and scooping Xia up. "See? Mommy checked everywhere. You're safe."

Xia buried her face in Yang's shoulder, still sobbing, then weakly pointed one chubby finger toward the mantle above the fireplace.

Yang and Jaune both turned to look.

The large family photo sat in its usual spot: Yang, Jaune, Xia, the twins, and babies Shirou and Clover all smiling at the camera from last Aslanmas. Nothing out of place.

Yang stepped closer, still holding Xia.

"What is it, honey? The picture?"

Xia nodded miserably.

Yang reached out and carefully lifted the frame off the mantle.

The second she did, a spider the size of a dinner plate—hairy, brown, and very angry—scuttled out from behind it and dropped straight onto the floor.

Yang's eyes went wide.

"GYAAAAAHHH!"

Her Semblance flared on instinct. A golden explosion of fire and force erupted from her fist, blasting the spider into oblivion… and taking a large chunk of the living room wall with it. Plaster and wood exploded outward in a cloud of dust, leaving a gaping hole that now framed the night sky.

Silence fell.

Xia had stopped crying. She stared at the hole with wide, watery eyes, then looked up at her mother.

Jaune slowly turned his head to stare at the destruction, then at Yang. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Yang's cheeks flushed bright red. She cleared her throat, still holding Xia.

"…It was a big spider."

Jaune's smirk widened into a full grin.

"Yeah, yeah… least Xia's stopped crying."

Xia sniffled once, then gave a tiny, hiccupping giggle.

Yang groaned and buried her burning face in her daughter's hair.

"I hate spiders."

Jaune chuckled, already reaching for the Scroll to call the repair service.

"I know, babe. I know."

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Radian's country road glowed with warm lamplight as Jaune and Emerald walked slowly back toward their home on the Arc estate. The dinner at Papa Shirou's had been perfect—Emerald's favorite spicy lamb skewers, extra naan for the baby, and Jaune stealing bites of her dessert when he thought she wasn't looking. She was six months along now, the gentle curve of her belly barely visible beneath her loose green tunic, but Jaune kept one protective hand on the small of her back the entire walk.

"I hope Mercury didn't get too overwhelmed," Jaune said with a chuckle, keys jingling as they reached their front door. "Amethyst and Onyx can be a handful even on a good day."

Emerald smirked, rubbing her belly. "He'll be fine. He's survived worse than two toddlers with glitter glue."

The second Jaune turned the key, the door flew open.

Mercury stood in the doorway like a man who had survived a war.

Glitter sparkled across his silver hair and face like war paint. Bright pink and blue eyeshadow had been applied with the enthusiasm and skill of a monkey on cocaine. Around his neck hung a tangle of paper-chain necklaces, his wrists clinked with mismatched beaded bracelets, and a crooked paper crown sat lopsided on his head. In each arm he held a giggling toddler: three-year-old Amethyst in her favorite purple dress, and two-year-old Onyx in a tiny black hoodie.

Both children beamed at their parents and waved enthusiastically.

"Hi Mommy! Hi Daddy!" Amethyst chirped.

"Hi!" Onyx echoed, waving a glitter-covered hand.

Mercury set the kids down with deliberate care, then pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one with shaking fingers.

"I'm done," he declared flatly. "You've created horrible monsters."

Amethyst and Onyx immediately clutched at his legs.

"Nooo! Uncle Mercury, don't go!" Amethyst whined.

"Stay!" Onyx demanded, lower lip trembling.

Mercury growled, gently prying tiny hands off his pants. "I said I'm done."

He stalked off down the path without another word, cigarette smoke trailing behind him like a white flag of surrender.

Jaune and Emerald each scooped up a child: Jaune taking Onyx, Emerald lifting Amethyst into her arms. The toddlers waved at Mercury's retreating back.

"Goodnight, Uncle Mercury!" they called in unison.

Mercury raised one hand in a lazy wave over his shoulder, never looking back.

Emerald watched him go, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. She shifted Amethyst higher on her hip and called after him.

"So… same time next week?"

Mercury stopped mid-step. His shoulders slumped. A long, defeated sigh escaped him. Slowly, he turned around, cigarette dangling from his lips.

He gave a single, reluctant nod.

"…Sure."

Emerald's smile widened into a full, delighted grin.

"Great!"

Mercury muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "I need a raise" and kept walking.

Jaune laughed softly, pressing a kiss to Onyx's glittery forehead. Emerald leaned into his side, Amethyst already playing with her hair.

Inside the house, the lights were still on. The living room looked like a glitter bomb had exploded. Paper chains hung from every lamp. The coffee table was covered in crayon drawings of "Uncle Mercury the Dragon King."

Jaune looked at the chaos, then at his very pregnant wife, and smiled. Emerald cuddled her child to her breast, her tone wistful.

"You know... I tortured him before... But he never asked for more afterwards."

"You're absolutely diabolical," Jaune chuckled.

Emerald smirked.

"Aren't I?"

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Cinder's Timeline: The Siege of Evernight



Two years after Vytal



- - -



The throne room of Evernight Castle was a storm of shadow and fury.



Salem paced the obsidian floor like a caged beast, her pale face twisted in rage. Watts and Tyrian stood at the foot of her throne, heads bowed, as her voice echoed off the jagged walls.



"Vacuo was a catastrophe!" she snarled. "We may have gotten the Maiden powers, but everything else?! The Relic slipped through our fingers! Merlot and his precious super-Grimm—wiped out! And now you tell me that even after Atlas, even after everything, RWBY and that traitor Cinder still live? That the boy-Jaune Arc-draws breath?!"



She whirled on them, eyes blazing with ancient hatred.



"How many times must I remind you that failure is not an option?!"



Tyrian chuckled nervously, his devotion and fear warring with his survival instinct. Watts adjusted his glasses, sweat beading on his brow.



Before either could answer, the great doors burst open.



Iridescent stumbled in, panting, white hair disheveled, trying (and failing) to keep her usual bright smile plastered on her face. She looked like she'd run the entire length of the castle.



"My Queen!" she gasped. "I have… a report!"



Salem's gaze snapped to her like a guillotine blade.



"Speak."



Iridescent swallowed, still catching her breath. "Do… do you want the good news or the bad news first?"



Tyrian beamed, ever the sycophant. "The good news, of course! Always the good news for our divine queen!"



Iridescent's smile twitched.



"Right! Good news first, then! I… I figured out why we lost contact with all the Grimm Seers around the perimeter!"



Salem's eyes narrowed. "Why?"



Iridescent pointed dramatically at the tall, narrow windows across from the throne.



"Because of that."



Salem turned.



The sky outside was overcast, heavy with storm clouds. But even from miles away, the horizon was moving.



Hundreds—no, thousands—of airships were emerging from the gloom. Atlasian cruisers, Valean carriers, Mistralian battleships, even Vacuan raiders retrofitted with Dust cannons. The entire combined fleet of the Allied Kingdoms was bearing down on Evernight like a steel tsunami.



Salem's face went deathly still.



Then she thrust both hands outward. The castle's ancient magical barrier flared to life with a deep, violet hum.



A split second later, the world exploded.



A thunderous barrage of missiles, shells, and Dust artillery slammed into the barrier. The entire castle shook violently. Chandeliers of black crystal crashed to the floor. Dust rained from the ceiling. Explosions lit up the throne room in strobing flashes of fire and light.



Salem's voice rose above the chaos, furious and disbelieving.



"HOW DID THEY GET SO CLOSE?! THERE HAS TO BE A THOUSAND SHIPS OUT THERE!"



Iridescent cupped a hand to her ear, still smiling even as the floor bucked beneath her feet.



"WHAT?!"



Salem roared louder. "I SAID-HOW DID THEY GET SO CLOSE?!"



Iridescent blinked, still grinning like a lunatic. "WHAT?! I CAN'T HEAR YOU! THERE'S A THOUSAND SHIPS SHOOTING AT US!"



Watts had already dropped to the floor, fingers jammed in his ears, muttering to himself.



"I should have stopped at my Master's degree…"



Salem's head snapped toward him. "WHAT?!"



The bombardment continued without mercy.


- - -


Bridge of the Atlasian Flagship Leviathan



Far above the chaos, in the reinforced command center of the massive flagship, Grand Admiral Agrippa Thorn sat in his command chair like a king on a throne.



He was a striking figure—tall, broad-shouldered, with smooth blue skin that marked him as a rare Blue Frog Faunus, and sharp crimson eyes that missed nothing. His white uniform was immaculate, even as the deck vibrated from the continuous broadsides.



On the observation deck beside him stood RWBY, Jaune Arc, and Cinder Fall. All of them looked tense. Ruby's hands were clenched on the railing. Weiss kept adjusting her gloves. Yang's eyes glowed faintly red. Blake's ears twitched with every distant explosion. Jaune stood close to Cinder, one hand resting lightly on her shoulder.



Weiss finally spoke, voice tight.



"Admiral… may I ask why we aren't simply going in directly?"



Thorn didn't look away from the holographic display of the bombardment.



"You may, Miss Schnee. It is quite simple." He gestured at the tactical map. "First, we must establish a proper kill zone for any Grimm that attempt to reinforce Salem. This allows the ground assault the greatest chance of success once the barrier falls."



He tapped another screen, where Ozpin was working alongside the sensor officers.



"Second, Headmaster Ozpin is assisting our sensor teams in analyzing the magical barrier's resonance patterns. With his unique knowledge of magic, we can better understand Salem's defenses… and give Miss Rose the best possible chance of countering her when the time comes."



Ruby beamed, silver eyes bright with determination.



Thorn allowed himself a small, cold smile: The kind that promised only ruin for his enemies.



"Finally… while Salem may be immortal and indestructible, history shows she is not immune to psychological warfare. The terror and horror of sustained industrialized bombardment-hours, perhaps days-will erode her resolve. And it will most certainly fracture the loyalty of her servants."



Cinder's voice was low, venomous, and deeply satisfied.



"Plus… the bitch has it coming."



Thorn's crimson eyes flicked to her, the smile never wavering.



"Indeed, Miss Fall."



Cinder smirked, glancing sideways at Jaune.



"You see why Salem planned to have me kill him early?"



Jaune hissed through his teeth. "Cinder!"



Thorn chuckled-a dry, dangerous sound.



"Yes. That would have been wise."

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Radian, Vale

Five Years After Salem's Defeat

- - -

The cathedral in Radian was quiet in the way only ancient stone and centuries of reverence could manage. Sunlight filtered through tall stained-glass windows in soft shafts of gold and crimson, illuminating rows of simple wooden pews. No towering ice sculptures. No imported flowers from every kingdom. No orchestra. Just the gentle hum of distant birds outside and the faint scent of old incense and fresh pine wreaths.

Weiss Schnee stood before the tall mirror in the small dressing room off the nave, adjusting the simple white gown one last time. It was elegant, yes, but plain by Schnee standards. No extravagant train. No diamond tiara. No endless press (they were kept outside the city walls). Just clean lines, delicate lace at the sleeves, and a single blue ribbon at her waist the color of her eyes. She had wanted simple. She had insisted on simple. And for once, the world had listened.

A soft knock preceded the door opening.

Klein stepped inside, dressed in his finest formal suit, eyes already misty behind his glasses. He closed the door gently behind him and simply looked at her for a long moment.

Weiss turned, hands clasped in front of her.

"…Well?" she asked, a touch of nervousness in her voice. "Do I look all right?"

Klein's smile was warm and proud in a way that made her chest tighten.

"You look beautiful, Mistress Weiss. But more importantly…" He stepped closer, voice soft. "I am very, very proud of you."

Weiss's eyes shimmered. Before she could stop herself, she crossed the small room and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. Klein let out a surprised but delighted chuckle and hugged her back just as fiercely, careful not to wrinkle her dress.

"Thank you," Weiss whispered against his shoulder. "For everything. For raising me when… when no one else would. For being there when I needed you most. And for… for walking me down the aisle today."

Klein pulled back just enough to look at her, eyes bright with unshed tears.

"I am honored, Miss Weiss. More than you will ever know."

Weiss smiled through her own tears, the kind that came from joy instead of pain for the first time in a very long while.

"I'm marrying the man I love," she said quietly, almost in awe. "In a little cathedral in a little town. With my family. With my friends. No politics. No nonsense. No expectations. Just… us."

Klein squeezed her hands gently.

"That," he said, "is exactly what you deserve."

From beyond the door came the soft swell of the organ beginning to play. Weiss took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and gave Klein one last grateful smile.

"Ready?" he asked.

Weiss nodded.

"Ready."

Klein offered her his arm. She took it.

Together, they stepped out into the golden light of the cathedral, where Jaune Arc waited at the altar with the biggest, brightest smile she had ever seen. Where all their friends waited.

And for the first time in her life, Weiss Schnee felt truly, completely at home.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Vacuo City, Vacuo

- - -

The ancient stone was cold beneath her back. Blake's eyes fluttered open to a canopy of stars and the shattered moon hanging high above. Four towering pillars surrounded the ritual platform, their surfaces carved with grotesque, twisting figures of long-forgotten gods-or perhaps demons. The wind carried the distant sounds of battle: explosions, Grimm roars, and the crack of gunfire from the city far below.

Her hands flew to her throat. A heavy Aura-suppressing collar was locked around her neck. She clawed at it desperately, fingers finding no release.

She'd been rushing out to join the defense against the attack-It was large enough it might have been Salem's final, or just an opening gambit. But then, she'd felt a hit to her head... Darkness...

A quiet, painfully familiar voice drifted from the shadows.

"The Ancient Xolotl Empire would sacrifice victims to the Grimm in this temple, long ago. To gain power from their blood. As though it would save them… buy them a little more time against the inevitable."

Blake froze. Slowly, she turned her head.

Adam stepped into the firelight. He was taller than she remembered, his white coat replaced by dark tactical gear. A cybernetic mask covered the ruined half of his face, glowing red optics fixed on her. Both of his hands were now sleek black prosthetics, clenching and unclenching with unnatural precision. He looked… calm. Too calm.

This made him far more terrifying than the raging bull she had known.

"But in the end, Death comes for us all," he finished quietly.

"Adam-How-?!!"

"Yes, Blake…" His voice was almost wistful. "I survived Atlas. I always survive."

The bitterness at the end of that sentence was almost palpable.

Blake forced her breathing to stay steady. She sat up slowly on the stone altar, carefully, as though he might strike her at any moment. She locked eyes with him.

"…Adam. Salem's going to destroy the world. She's going to kill us all. Or worse. You know this."

Adam inclined his head minutely.

"…I do."

"Then why?! Why do you still serve her?!"

Adam tilted his head, the red optics flaring faintly.

"You think I was left with any choice? You think I am here by chance?" A bitter chuckle escaped him. "My orders were simple: split you up. Taking you would lure your friends here… Divide and conquer."

Blake's ears flattened. "You don't have to do this! The last time we fought-!"

"The last time," Adam cut in, voice tightening, "you killed Watts. But my freedom was brief. Even so… this must happen, Blake. Our fates are entwined."

"No! Adam, please… I know the conflict inside you. Jaune could have killed you the last two times. He didn't. I could have insisted… but I didn't."

"Weakness."

"Compassion." Blake's voice cracked. "You know what Salem is going to do. What good does it do Faunus if we're her slaves? Or… or monsters?!"

Adam's shoulders sagged slightly. When he spoke again, his voice was hollow.

"I am already her slave and monster… as I have always been my entire life. This is the only way, Blake."

"Adam… Please. You have a choice!"

"No," Adam said, still soft and maddeninly calm, reaching up to touch his mask, "no... I never have."

The sound of distant fighting echoed up from the trail below. Mechanical footsteps. Atlas Knight-III drones-repainted in crude White Fang colors-emerged from the shadows of the pillars. They marched in formation to the cliff's edge overlooking Vacuo and raised their rifles in perfect unison.

A familiar figure appeared on the path below, white armor gleaming under the starlight, hood thrown back.

Jaune Arc.

The drones opened fire.

Jaune didn't even draw his shield. He simply stepped into the hail of bullets, Aura flaring like a golden sun. Rounds sparked harmlessly off his chest as he surged forward. One drone was punched so hard its head crumpled. Another was bisected by a single Aura slash. A third Jaune grabbed by the arm and slammed into the other robots until there was nothing but a pile of scrap.

In under a minute, the entire platoon lay in twisted, smoking ruins.

Jaune stood at the edge of the plateau, Crocea Mors in hand, staring across the distance at Adam.

Blake's heart leapt.

"JAUNE!"

Adam's voice was low, almost amused. "Only you?"

Jaune's reply carried clearly across the arid stone.

"I Amped everyone else to fight the battle. I went after you."

Adam sneered, red optics narrowing. "Clever, clever human… No one else?"

"I don't need anyone else."

Adam studied him for a long, silent moment. Jaune stared back, stance calm, sword held ready. Blake quietly went back to working the collar's lock, fingers trembling.

Adam's head tilted. "No… You don't. But what do you have? A last, desperate defense against the inevitable! Stolen time with the woman you stole from me!"

He kicked the campfire in sudden contempt, sending sparks flying. His voice dropped to a hiss.

"No… No… You're not in denial. Your hope… is genuine. But why?"

Jaune remained silent. Blake kept still, every muscle tense. She had forgotten how terrifyingly perceptive Adam could be with body language. Who knew how long he'd been watching them! If they didn't stop him now-!

Adam hissed sharply.

"What are you hiding from the Old Witch? What are you plotting?!"

Jaune's eyesbrow narrowed, and he slowly raised his sword into a defensive posture. Adam drew Wilt with a metallic shing, spinning the red blade once in his cybernetic grip before settling into an aggressive stance.

Jaune shifted his feet, opening his guard slightly. Adam mirrored the movement almost unconsciously, back foot sliding just a fraction farther.

Jaune brought both hands around the hilt of his sword, and moved it closer to him, eyes never leaving Adam's. Adam sneered, scooting his dominant foot forward an inch, fingers flexing.

Blake's fingers finally found the release on the collar. It clicked open. Her Aura surged back to life like a flood.

"Adam, no—!"

"RAHH!"

Adam exploded forward in a blur, unleashing a devastating Moonslice. Jaune met it head-on with a golden Aura slash. The collision detonated in a blinding flash of light and force that shook the entire plateau.

Adam charged straight through the afterimage, sword aimed for Jaune's heart.

Jaune deflected the first strike. Then the second. On the third, he stepped inside Adam's guard and thrust.

The tip of Crocea Mors punched cleanly through Adam's back.

For one frozen heartbeat, neither man moved.

Then Jaune withdrew the blade in a single smooth motion, flicked it clean of blood, and sheathed it.

Adam stood perfectly still. His arms slowly fell, his sword clattering to the rocky ground from his numb fingers. He took one shaky step forward… and collapsed into Jaune's waiting arms. Jaune knelt, laying Adam down face up.

Blake was already sprinting across the stone, dropping to her knees beside them. She rested a trembling hand on Jaune's shoulder. He met her eyes and gave a small, reassuring nod.

They both looked down at Adam. His breathing was shallow, face rapidly paling beneath the cybernetic mask.

"…Can… Will you… defeat her?" Adam rasped.

Jaune's voice was quiet but steady.

"…Yes."

Adam slowly nodded. A faint, bitter smile tugged at his lips.

"Then… it wasn't… in vain… Blake…?"

Blake's vision blurred with hot tears she didn't understand. "Jaune-heal him! We can still save him-get those things out of you-!"

"No…" Adam coughed wetly. "No. This is… how it should be. Just… please. My mask?"

Blake hesitated only a second before gently removing the cybernetic mask. Adam's single remaining blue eye stared up at the stars and shattered moon. A faint smile grew on his face, like he was recalling a long forgotten memory.

"…I see… I see… it all…"

His eye slowly drifted to Blake, filled with something she had never seen from him before.

Regret.

"Blake… I…"

He tried to speak again, but the words died. His hand twitched toward Wilt, still lying on the stone. Then he went still. His chest rose once, fell… and did not rise again.

Jaune stared down at him in silence. He reached out and gently closed Adam's eye with two fingers.

Blake's breath hitched. The storm inside her chest was too big, too loud. A million memories of pain, fear, rage, love... It all raged inside her, and she panted almost frantically. Jaune looked at her, opened his arms without a word, and she fell into them, burying her face against his chest as the first sob tore free.

He held her tightly, one hand stroking her hair, saying nothing.

The distant sounds of battle from Vacuo drifted up on the wind.

Blake sucked in a shaky breath and pulled back. She wiped her eyes, stood, and picked up Wilt. She sheathed the red blade and fastened it to her own belt. Then she carefully arranged Adam's hands over his chest. She looked at her boyfriend, pleading.

Jaune nodded once. He swung Crocea Mors and carved a deep grave into the stone with a single Aura slash. Blake lifted Adam's body and laid him inside with surprising gentleness. Jaune rolled a large boulder over the grave.

She studied Adam's face as it slowly vanished from view. For the first time since she'd met him... He looked almost serene.

Then the stone covered him entirely. She stepped back, staring at the grave.

She lingered for one long moment, then turned away.

"…We have to go."

Jaune nodded grimly.

Together, they ran back toward the trail, toward the distant lights and chaos of Vacuo, leaving the ancient temple and its final sacrifice behind them.

- - -

In case you couldn't tell, this was inspired by this scene from Star Wars: Rebels:


View: https://youtu.be/_ScD_OUvHR4

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Weiss's Timeline: The Hospital Vigil

Eight years after Salem's Defeat

- - -

Mistral General Hospital smelled like antiseptic and rain-soaked stone. Weiss Schnee-Arc burst through the double doors of the private wing like a white-and-blue hurricane, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor. Her Scroll had only given her the barest details-Jaune injured, critical, Mistral-and every second since had felt like an eternity. She shoved past two startled nurses and slammed open the door to Room 314.

The sight inside nearly stopped her heart.

Jaune lay face-down on the hospital bed, broad back exposed and wrapped in heavy bandages that glowed faintly with healing Dust. Machines beeped steadily beside him: Heart monitor, Aura stabilizer, oxygen feed. His blond hair was matted with dried blood and soot. Isabel Arc sat slumped in the chair next to him, head resting on the mattress, one hand still loosely curled around his wrist. The doctor's face was drawn with exhaustion, dark circles under her eyes.

Weiss's voice cracked like a whip. "What happened?!"

Isabel jerked awake, blinking blearily. Before she could answer, the door opened again. Ruby Rose stepped in, silver eyes bloodshot, cape torn and stained, hair pulled into a messy ponytail. She looked like she had run through hell.

Ruby's voice was hoarse. "A dignitary at the conference got mind-controlled. Bomb implanted in their stomach. Jaune sensed something was wrong and-"

Isabel finished for her, voice rough. "He grabbed the bomber and threw them both out the window. Took the blast himself. Even with his Aura… that was pretty bad."

Weiss's hands clenched into fists. "The assassins?"

Ruby looked down, shoulders sagging. "Local Rangers found them. They fought rather than surrender. All died."

A dark, vicious part of Weiss (the part that had grown up in the Schnee Manor and learned exactly how sharp a blade could be) wanted to scream. She had ideas. Creative ones. Ice that would freeze them from the inside out, glyphs to induce enough pain to make them beg before they broke. They had tried to kill her husband. They deserved-!

She shook her head hard, scattering the thoughts like snow. They wouldn't help Jaune.

"Is he going to make it?!" she demanded.

Isabel nodded slowly. "He will. He's not in great shape, and he'll be here for a few weeks, but he'll live."

Weiss exhaled, some of the iron band around her chest loosening. "Good. Now go sleep. Both of you."

Ruby blinked, then lied-badly: "I-I just got done sleeping-"

Weiss's glare could have flash-frozen a Nevermore mid-dive.

"Ruby. Go. Sleep."

Ruby wilted. "…Fine."

She shuffled out, muttering something about bossy Schnees.

Weiss turned the same glare on her mother-in-law. Isabel opened her mouth to protest.

"You too, Mother."

"I still need to check his vitals, and maybe examine his-"

Weiss crossed the room and took Isabel's hands in her own, squeezing gently. The older woman's skin was cold.

"It's okay, Mother. He'll be safe. I promise."

Isabel stared at her for a long moment, then slowly nodded.

"All right…" She rose, kissed the top of Jaune's head, and left without another word.

Silence fell.

Weiss moved to the bedside. She reached out, fingers trembling only slightly as she brushed through Jaune's messy blond hair. The strands were stiff with dried blood. She sighed, the sound shaky.

"You were supposed to be retired," she whispered. "You were supposed to stay safe. You should have let Ruby handle it, you idiot…"

A sniffle escaped her. She swallowed hard.

"You were just supposed to speak and be a diplomat… Dolt…"

She leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the back of his head, right above the worst of the bandaging.

"You had better wake up soon, dolt… Or I'm going to make you wish he'd really… Really…"

The dam broke. Weiss folded over the bed, forehead resting against his uninjured shoulder, and cried: Quiet, wracking sobs that shook her frame. Her fingers stroked his back in slow, soothing circles, careful of the bandages.

A low groan rumbled beneath her.

"Nnngh… Weiss?"

Weiss shot upright so fast her vision blurred. "Jaune! You-You're awake?!"

Jaune's blue eyes cracked open, hazy with pain and Aura exhaustion. He managed a weak, crooked smile.

"Y-Yeah… I put myself… into a healing trance… I guess I sensed your Aura and woke up…"

Weiss's relief lasted exactly half a second before fury returned. "Well get back into it, IDIOT! You're barely alive! Heal yourself, moron!"

Jaune chuckled: Weak, but real. "All right, all right… I will… Hey…?"

Weiss's voice softened despite herself. "Yes?"

"I love you."

The words hit her like a warm glyph to the chest. She swallowed around the lump in her throat, tears still glistening on her lashes.

"…I love you too, Jaune… Now back into the trance, idiot!"

Jaune's eyes drifted shut again, the faintest smile still on his lips. The machines beeped a little steadier. Weiss stayed right where she was, one hand still stroking his hair, the other resting lightly over his heart.

She wasn't leaving this room until he was out of it.

And when he woke up properly, she was going to yell at him again.

Then kiss him senseless.

Probably both. In that order.