[RWBY] The Great Temporal Step-Sibling War!

[AndrewJTalon]

The heavy door to the basement levels of Beacon clicked shut behind them with a solid, final sound. Ozpin led the way into the basement lab, cane tapping softly against the stone. Glynda followed a half-step behind, riding crop already in hand, her posture rigid with the kind of tension that had been building since the previous night.

Raven was sitting cross-legged on the floor of her reinforced cell, fiddling with something small and metallic she'd clearly scavenged from somewhere. She didn't look up as they approached.

Ozpin's voice was calm, almost gentle.

"That won't work, Raven."

Raven snorted without lifting her head.

"Worth a try."

Glynda flicked her riding crop once. A wave of her Semblance rolled through the air, invisible threads of force checking every bar, every seam, every dust-weave reinforcement in the cell. Everything held. She gave a short nod as she snatched the tool from Raven's hands and caught it.

Raven finally looked up, eyes narrowing as she caught Glynda's stare. She leaned back against the wall, arms draped casually over her knees. On the small table beside her cot, the photos of her future grandchildren and the life she'd never had still lay spread out like silent accusations.

Ozpin moved to the main lab area, crouching beside Amber's stasis pod to check the readouts. Glynda remained where she was, staring at Raven through the bars in heavy silence.

Raven's lips curled into a mocking half-smile.

"So… how's your future husband doing?"

Glynda's nose wrinkled.

"He's fine."

Raven nodded slowly, as if tasting the words.

"Fits. I always figured you'd need an act of God to land anyone. Guess the universe finally took pity on you."

Glynda's grip tightened on her riding crop.

"It's no surprise you ran away from Tai. You could never handle anything more complicated than swinging that sword of yours."

Raven's eyes flashed dangerously. She pushed herself to her feet in one fluid motion.

"You're competing against my daughter, old crone. You'll lose."

Glynda's chin lifted.

"In my timeline, my husband and I… we get along fine."

Raven barked a short, sharp laugh.

"Then what's got you so insecure? You're practically vibrating."

Ozpin straightened from Amber's pod and stepped back into the main space, voice cutting smoothly between them.

"You really shouldn't be talking, Raven. You're already feeling the effects of age yourself." He adjusted his glasses. "Besides, Isabel will be down soon to check on you. Thank you for providing more life for Amber though."

Raven's scowl deepened, eyes narrowing to slits.

"What the hell are you talking about, effects of age?"

"Some women handle it better than others," Ozpin said, calm and confident. He turned as Raven stood up.

"What the hell?! What effect?!"

Ozpin ignored her completely, turning toward the lift with the calm certainty of a man who had played this game for centuries. Glynda followed, but not before shooting Raven one last cool look.

As they entered the elevator and the heavy doors sealed behind them, Glynda exhaled slowly.

"I'm sorry, Ozpin. I lost my cool."

Ozpin waved a dismissive hand, though his own shoulders carried a faint weariness.

"No need to apologize. The entire situation-old friends, new complications, Jaune… it has shaken all of us. I'm a bit off my game myself."

They reached the top of the tower and entered his office. Glynda's heels clicked sharply against the floor.

"I just… it's all hit me at once," she admitted quietly. "Jaune. The futures. Children... Everything."

Ozpin nodded.

"I understand. But we will make it through. We have eleven ways to win this war now. It won't be easy… but the chance of victory is real for the first time in a very long while." He smiled gently. "And you do have a happy future."

Glynda's steps slowed slightly. She nodded, but swallowed before she spoke again.

"…It wasn't without great cost in every timeline."

Ozpin was silent for several paces. Then he gave a single, solemn nod.

"Victory is never without cost. But it is a cost I will pay gladly, knowing we can finally save the world."

He stepped around behind his desk and sat down. Glynda stood at attention in front of him, then hesitated, biting her lower lip.

"Ozpin… I've learned something important from Dorothy."

He reached for his ever-present coffee mug and the pitcher from the coffee machine, pouring some into his mug and taking a slow sip as he turned back to her.

"What is it?"

Glynda drew in a steadying breath.

"Jaune… He's the Rusted Knight."

Ozpin paused mid-sip. He slowly lowered the mug, eyes sharpening behind his spectacles.

"I mean… he will be. He is right now… It's complicated."

Ozpin set the mug down with deliberate care. He swallowed once.

Then he tapped his Scroll.

"Weena? I think I might have a breakthrough for you."

 

[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]

The guest wing of Beacon was quiet at this hour, the kind of dignified hush that came from thick carpets and centuries-old stone. Willow Schnee sat at the small writing desk in her suite, Scroll held to her ear, voice low but steady.

"I know, Mister Hurt. I know. But we need this information, please."

The gruff voice of the old Mole Faunus crackled through the speaker.

"Hmph! Funny of you to be interested now, after all these years."

Willow's expression flickered—hurt flashing across her features for a brief moment—before she steadied herself and nodded, even though he couldn't see it.

"You're right. I have a lot to make up for. That's part of why I'm doing this. Please… whatever you can do to keep Jacques busy, do it."

There was a long pause on the other end.

"…I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you."

Another gruff huff. "Hmph… If you'd married that blond idiot instead of that jackass, we'd all be in a better position."

Willow's eyes closed for a second.

"…I know."

The call ended with a soft click. Willow set the Scroll down and rubbed her temples, exhaling slowly.

The door to the sitting area opened. James Ironwood stepped in, posture still rigidly military despite the warmth of the afternoon sun shining through the windows. He took the chair across from her without waiting for an invitation.

Klein appeared in his usual enigmatic way-seemingly materializing from the shadows near the sideboard-carrying a silver tray with two cups of tea. He poured for both of them exactly the way they preferred: strong and black for Ironwood, with a single cube of sugar and a splash of cream for Willow.

Ironwood accepted his cup with a small nod and a rare, tired smile.

"I see we've both been busy."

Willow lifted her tea, inhaling the soothing aroma before taking a sip.

"Extremely. How are things going with you?"

Ironwood sighed, shoulders sagging just a fraction.

"I've turned the proposal for the alliance over to the Council. Both chambers are in an uproar… but you probably knew that."

Willow offered a soft, knowing smile.

"I still have a few old friends in the Council. Do you think they'll go for it?"

"I have seldom pushed hard for specific policies, save at the most desperate need. I do have a fair amount of capital, but this will be difficult."

"I'm willing to do all I can to help… but anything really substantial requires we deal with Jacques."

Ironwood nodded grimly.

"I know."

Willow sucked in a breath. She contemplated the tea cup in front of her.

"I wouldn't ask for you to... Take any illegal action," she said. Ironwood nodded.

"I know. You wouldn't be the first to ask."

Willow raised an eyebrow. Ironwood allowed himself a small, bitter smirk.

"Do you think he's only made enemies of his family? His behavior has often cost us. He has fomented rebellions in Mistral and Vacuo. Forcing us to intervene. He's certainly not done our reputation any favors. But he's always had just the right friends in the right places to block any serious efforts to remove him. Made himself indispensable."

"But you could remove him," Willow said, quiet. Ironwood nodded grimly.

"If the stakes were high enough, yes... But I would destroy any attempt at this alliance. Once you cross that line... You either surrender yourself to the authorities to be tried, or you go all the way to seize power." He shook his head slowly. "Atlas suffers a devastating civil war in several of these futures. I can't risk instigating it now, even knowing the future."

"I know," Willow sighed. "So... I suppose for the time being all we can do is stall."

"Until we can nail him," Ironwood agreed. Willow smiled gently at him.

"I... There are times I wish I hadn't been so foolish in love."

Ironwood slowly nodded.

"Don't we all?" He murmured. Willow studied him carefully.

"Do you know... Her future? In the timelines?"

Ironwood was still, almost lifeless.

"... I do." He shakes his head. "All I can do is hope she's not a casualty in this one."

Willow nodded.

"I suppose so..."

The door opened again. Weiss stepped in, looking utterly exhausted—shoulders slumped, hair slightly disheveled, the faint scent of Dust and lab chemicals still clinging to her clothes.

"Oh… Hello, General." She gave a quick, automatic curtsy. "Hello, Klein. Hello, Mother."

Klein bowed his head with grandfatherly warmth.

"Hello, Miss Weiss."

Ironwood offered a respectful nod.

"Hello, Weiss."

Willow's expression softened, the smile reaching her eyes even if it was still a little tentative.

"Hello, Weiss… Are you all right?"

It was still awkward between them—years of distance and pain didn't vanish overnight—but Willow was trying. Weiss could see it. She slowly nodded.

"I am. I did get to work with Jaune in Dust Studies today. He is actually quite knowledgeable about Medical Dust. I suppose that makes sense, given his mother."

Willow's smile warmed a fraction.

"Yes, Isabel Arc is one of the foremost experts in Healing Dust. Jacques tried to hire her a few times as his personal physician, but she refused each time."

Weiss let out a heavy sigh and sank into the nearest chair.

"…I can't believe I… I was so stupid…"

Klein, ever the diplomat, spoke gently as he adjusted the tea tray.

"Speaking frankly, Miss, he hardly covered himself in glory when he first courted you. You're both young and foolish. It happens."

Weiss scowled, frustration bubbling up.

"Yes, but he and Winter…!" She trailed off, then shook her head. "I'm up against so much right now, Mother. Against the first friends I've ever made and my own sister!"

Willow leaned forward slightly, voice sincere.

"I know. And I am so very sorry, Weiss. If I hadn't been—"

Ironwood cut in quietly but firmly, raising his synthetic hand and closing it into a fist as he stared at the metal fingers.

"Guilt and self-blame never helps. Trust me." His voice carried the weight of old, painful memories. "All you can do is what you can do."

Weiss exhaled, shoulders slumping again.

"Yes…"

Willow reached across and gently touched her daughter's arm.

"The only way this will work out is as a group arrangement, Weiss. I doubt you want to see any of the children vanish into nothing."

Weiss sat up straighter, eyes widening.

"No! Of course not!"

Willow nodded.

"So you will need allies. I believe Winter would be most amenable to start with… but I do know how women can get when the heart of a man is the prize. So you must be cunning and clever, Weiss. I know you have it in you."

Weiss blinked, a spark of determination lighting in her eyes.

"I… Thank you, Mother!"

Willow's smile turned a touch mischievous.

"But I have neglected you in… many ways. Not the least of which is how to properly woo a man. Especially an Arc man. I learned that subtlety is not your friend."

Weiss stared at her, dumbfounded.

"What do I have to do? Hit him over the head with a hammer?"

Willow's eyes twinkled.

"If you must—and conveniently, you have a friend with such a weapon!"

Before Weiss could protest, Willow gently but firmly guided her toward the back room, arm looped through hers like they were old conspirators.

Ironwood raised an eyebrow at Klein, who was calmly collecting the empty teacups.

Klein gave a small, fond chuckle.

"If it helps, this is the happiest and healthiest I've ever seen their relationship."

Ironwood took another sip of tea, expression thoughtful.

"I suppose it does…"

 

[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.