[RWBY] The Great Temporal Step-Sibling War!

[AndrewJTalon]

They were all more spread out for breakfast this morning than they had been the last few days at Glynda's insistence, the deputy headmistress claiming they couldn't be all together all the time. The eldest of the future brides had received a number of skeptical looks when she had said that but the others ultimately let it slide and went along with it because the last couple breakfasts had been far tenser than the morning meal was supposed to be.

It also spread their future kids out a bit, hypothetically making it easier for their respective mothers to keep an eye on them therefor making it harder for them to concoct another major scheme.

Winter and Theodore were at the teacher's table with Glynda and Dorothy, though conversation between the four of them was more sporadic than constant. Winter was spending most of her time glancing towards JNPR's table and blushing at the back of Jaune's head, only interrupting that activity to glower disappointedly at her son when she notice him looking a bit smug out of the corner of her eye.

In another part of the room May sat with her team and family. Her food was barely touched as she was gazing longingly in Jaune's direction instead of paying any attention to her plate. August looked from his mother, to his father, and to his mother's plate and sighed in exasperation.

May's own mother reached over and shook her daughter's shoulder.

"May dear, you need to eat if you're going to maintain the figure that caught his attention so effortlessly yesterday," Saia admonished.

May squeaked and blushed in embarrassment, but dutifully picked up her fork and got started on her eggs.

The girls of Team RWBY were all together with their children, the conversation flowing far more freely here although most of it was flowing in a particular direction.

"Toast?" Yang snickered.

"The crash-into-hello is a pivotal moment in seventy precent of the school love stories that have a happy ending!" Blake grumbled as she flipped through a notebook.

"Yeah, but you don't need toast for that, just timing," Yang's grin was the most infuriating thing Blake had ever seen on the blonde brawler's face. "Adding twice baked bread sounds like it'd result in more crumbling than bonding."

Blake physically stopped her hands from clenching so she wouldn't damage her notebook. She took a calming breath and pressed on with the next part of her master plan.

They were on a boat shaped like a swan, moving along the tracks hidden by the water people expected on a ride like this. The boat entered the tunnel with the speakers playing smooth music while the low lighting was just bright enough to set a mood while also making it dark enough that they could be doing anything on the boat without anyone else being privy to it...

"Um, Blake, Carnaval Park hasn't had a Tunnel of Love for at least thirty years," Ruby hesitantly burst her teammate's bubble.

"What!?" Blake's head whipped around to look at her team leader.

"Yeah, they had a problem with drunk people getting out of the boats mid-ride or doing other stuff that messed up the tracks. Then you have the people that would throw up or get other bodily fluids in the water, and that's a biohazard that requires all of the water in the ride to be drained and replaced. It just became too expensive to keep fixing so they shut it down," Ruby explained.

"How do you know that?" Weiss sounded quite surprised.

"Amusement ride engineer was one of my backup plans in case the huntress thing didn't work out for me," Ruby shrugged.

"Oh, that makes sense," Weiss allowed.

"Okay, if the tunnel of love is out..." Blake pressed onwards

"Wanna listen to my mixtape?" Blake offered as she held up an old cassette player.

"Only if you listen to mine," Jaune smoothly replied as he pulled a cassette tape from his letterman jacket's inner pocket...

"Do you even have a mixtape?" Ruby wondered aloud.

Blake froze as she realized the wrinkle in the plan.

"Okay, so I don't have time to throw together a good mixtape today, but we could still do something with music..."

Rocks gently pelt Jaune's window, which he opened to see what was going on.

The band started playing once he leaned out, and Blake started to sing:

"You could have a steam train, if you'd just lay down your tracks..."

"Where are you getting a band?" Weiss interrupted Blake's musings.

Blake groaned in frustration.

RWBY's children were doing their best to not comment on Blake's struggles. Nicholas was ignoring the going ons of the table entirely, looking to the guest table where his namesake grandfather was laughing at some joke the stuntman Logos had just shared. Julian in turn wished he had something that could grab his attention from Blake's floundering. Xia looked like she wanted to say something but kept thinking better of it before it could leave her mouth.

Leander and Leandra were perfect pictures of exasperation, and they couldn't hold their peace much longer.

"Mom, why are all your ideas so old and cliche?" Leandra whined.

"Old? Cliche?" Blake turned towards her daughter with confused indignation.

"It's all stuff that's been played out for decades," Leander backed his sister up.

"Played out! This is timeless stuff! Cornerstones of romance!" Blake spun her notebook around to show them the pages, wildly pointing at different entries as she started to rant. "Each of these ideas are an evolution of some time honored method of people expressing romantic interest in one another. You have to pay respect to the classics if you want to do things right!"

"You're such a big romance genre nerd Blake," Yang chuckled at her partner's impassioned raving. "You can't script these things out, you just got to go with the flow."

"From what Aunt Ruby told me," Xia finally piped in, "You weren't much better when you were dating dad."

Yang spun to face her daughter, "What do you mean by that?"

Xia only responded with a coy smirk.

"What do you mean Xia!?"

Across the room, at JNPR's table, Pyrrha Nikos sat beside Jaune, face still tomato-red from her "flirting" attempt from earlier. She poked at her oatmeal like it was to blame.

Jaune nudged her gently. "Hey… it's okay. Your mom means well. Dramatic, but well."

Pyrrha groaned. "I just... Made a fool out of myself! With Blake!"

Xander sipped his juice innocently. "It's about what I expected, honestly."

Pyrrha shot him a look. "Xander!"

Jaune chuckled. "Hey, no teasing your mom."

Nora leaned across the table, eyes sparkling. "Tease her more! It's fun! Speaking of—Xander, what about Lian? Spill the beans, kiddo! Tell Auntie Nora everything!"

Xander flushed beet-red, ears turning pink. "She's… she's my best friend! I really care about her. But she's still super clingy, and we… uh… still sleep together in the bed at Beacon sometimes."

He beamed and waved his hand.

"You know, best friends stuff!"

Ren blinked slowly. Nora followed, looking very calm. Which was terrifying.

"And does she wear unique lingerie for you?" Ren asked carefully. Pyrrha flushed deeply, knowing exactly what he was referencing.

"Yeah," Xander confirmed, "She always asks me my opinion on her underwear! I don't really get it, honestly. Who's she trying to impress?"

Nora's eyes went wide, then misty.

"Ohhhh… I get it now. The desire for grandbabies. It's real."

Ren sighed deeply, pinching his nose. Again he hid a smile. Who he was more exasperated with was a matter for philosophers and saints.

Jaune blinked slowly. "Wait… if I was that oblivious to all this flirting stuff back then..."

He looked over at Pyrrha.

"Am... Am I really that dense?"

Pyrrha patted his hand, cheeks still pink. "You weren't that bad… mostly."

"He was worse!" Nora cried. She sighed. "Oh future daughter... Why did you fall in love with an idiot?!"

"Hey!" Xander said defensively.

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

Miles away sat Vale's international airport, where airships from all over the world would dock and unload passengers from all walks of life. These passengers would then have to make their way through customs to ensure contraband and other problematic things didn't enter the city proper. Unfortunately no customs official could stop the vile things that slinked their way through the system this day.

A young fresh faced customs worker whose name tag said 'Jim' put on his best smile as a brunette woman with an expensive camera hanging from her neck approached. Her face was framed with a pair of gem studded glasses while her outfit was expensive looking yet semi-athletic, with holes cut in the back to accommodate a single pair of insectoid wings. It was like she wanted to look presentable in a professional setting while also being ready to run a marathon at the same time.

"Hello, and welcome to the City of Vale," Jim greeted the faunus woman as he squared away the last bit of paperwork the previous arrival had saddled him with. "What's the reason for your visit Miss...?"

"Skeeter, Bridget Skeeter," She introduced herself as she handed him her passport and a press badge that some of the larger news outlets liked to give out to people who worked for them. "I'm a photojournalist for The Weekly Oracle and I'm here to crack a story. The Invincible Girl somehow has a fiancé. A fiancé that nobody has heard about before a couple days ago, who's also engaged to several other young women of note. There are a lot of unanswered questions here, and those questions mean dirty laundry. It's my civic duty to air out that laundry."

"Well, Miss Skeeter, I guess you'll have company during your stay," Jim warily told her as he stamped her passport and cleared the rest of her paperwork. "You're the second reporter from Argus who's come through my station so far."

"I am? Who was here first?"

"An Ivan Peek for the Argus Insider," Jim relayed as he handed Skeeter her paperwork back.

"Is that so?" Skeeter frowned as she slid her passport back into her pockets. "Well I better hop to it if I'm going to beat him to the juicer details."

With that the faunus reporter scurried off.

"Hi, and welcome to Vale!" The next arrival approached Jim's workstation. "What's the reason for your visit Mister...?"

"You can call me Scoop, I'm a photojournalist for the Mistral Messenger."

"Oh man," Jim muttered as he could suddenly tell what the rest of his morning was going to be like. And he was right.

For the rest of the morning he'd be dealing with the most haded enemy of the Nikos family, the one foe Pyrrha wasn't allowed to fight.

The paparazzi were here, and they were here in force.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Professor Harold Mulberry, head of Beacon's Weapons Maintenance class, was a burly, brown haired man with a neatly trimmed mustache-dense, perfectly groomed, and walrus-like in style that only enhanced the sternness of his face. He wore a simple button up shirt with his sleeves up under a different colored vest every day, over dark trousers and simple but sturdy boots. His eyes were a dark green, usually cold and pitiless. He looked around his morning classroom, every student at a work bench on a concrete floor.

The future kids were present along with their parents, save for Winter who stood at the door as an observer, and Glynda, who had her class to attend to. Jaune and Pyrrha stood together at their usual bench, Jaune nervous while Pyrrha was smiling almost placidly as Harold's icy gaze swept over the classroom like a king surveying his court.

"Good morning. Once again, I will be examining your weapons to see if you've been taking proper care of them. I will not be available to do this for you in the field, so you will have to do it yourself unless you want to end up dead. That is an option, but only some nihilistic lily livered loser whose life was written by a couple of Utopian brained communists would take that option. As always, to become a Hunter or Huntress is to be an independent contractor who brings peace and security to the world. You are paid to be heroes, so act like it. Nobody wrote any heroic tales about the jackass whose mechashift gun jammed in the middle of a fight and got eaten. Just shitty jokes."

The professor went from table to table, examining each weapon in turn. He took hold of Myrtenaster first, examining it carefully as Weiss held her breath next to Ruby.

"Decent work as usual, Schnee," Mulberry stated, "Little too obsessive with the polishing but I'm sure that will impress someone."

"Thank you, sir," Weiss managed. Mulberry turned to Ruby, who beamed at him. Mulberry took hold of Crescent Rose, turning it over in his hands.

"Hmm… Well, you made things hard for yourself out of love. But that is why love is worth it," Ron said, "Only pussies reject the challenge brought forth by living true to themselves. Good work as usual, Rose. Your son's doing well."

Julian frowned. Ruby flushed and shook her head.

"He's not my-I mean, um, thank you!"

"This anti-polarity device is gonna throw off your balance a bit though," Mulberry pointed to the new addition on the side of Crescent Rose, "As long as you compensate it should be fine."

"I will, sir," Ruby said.

Mulberry raised an eyebrow and shook his head as he returned the weapon.

"Don't let it go to your head."

"Oh, never sir!" Ruby chirped. Weiss gave her a little glare from the side. Ruby preened just a bit, when she was sure Mulberry wasn't looking. She was sure she was one of Mulberry's favorites-The man seemed just a little less stoic around her. And had even let her use the REALLY dangerous Dust mixtures!

Well, he let Nora use them too. But being co-favorites with Nora was still an honor!

Mulberry came to Jaune and Pyrrha's table next. Jaune set Crocea Mors before him. Mulberry sniffed, and picked it up. He unsheathed it, and opened up the shield. He looked the sword all over, and sniffed.

"Well, this antique is still working just fine, Arc," Mulberry stated. "You're definitely taking my advice." He hummed, looking down the edge, "Learned Aura slashes finally?"

"Oh, uh, yes sir," Jaune nodded. Mulberry hummed.

"The spirit is strong, but the steel is being ground down," he stated, "You'll want to reforge this soon. Upgrade the mechanics. Rose! You'll help him do it."

"Yes sir!" Ruby beamed, even through the glares she got from her fellow future brides. What? She was best suited to this!

"I will help too, Jaune," Pyrrha added. Mulberry sniffed as he examined Milo and Akuo.

"You're nearly perfect with your maintenance, Nikos. He doesn't need another mommy. Unless that's in the bedroom, in which case keep it to yourselves," he stated bluntly, making Pyrrha and Jaune both turn bright red. Neptune growled, eyebrows twitching, from his own table with Sage. Sage for his part sighed quietly.

"He's got no shortage of that," Neptune grumbled. Jaune shot him a glare out of reflex, the rest of the brides and future kids doing the same. Neptune coughed and held up a hand.

"Ah, I just meant-"

"Vasilias, that's very unprofessional and not classroom appropriate," Mulberry said sharply. Neptune winced and nodded.

"Yessir."

Mulberry hummed.

"On the other hand, it is impossible to ignore the fact that Arc's idiot father did get him engaged to eleven women and apparently, none of them have called it off. So congratulations, Arc."

"Uh, thank you sir," Jaune managed.

"I'd make up a will if I were you," Mulberry added. Jaune gulped.

"I'll… Think it over?"

Mulberry was already walking over to Julian and Nicholas' table. He held up Crescent Rose Part II and raised an eyebrow.

"Rose help you with this, kid?"

"She sure did!" Julian said proudly. He shook his head.

"Can I hire her? She's a freaking witch with this… What even is this stuff?"

"That's… Uh… A long story," Julian admitted, as some of the future kids snickered-Theodore among them. Winter glared, and he grinned with a shrug back. Julian turned back to Mulberry.

"As for hiring her, you can, but you might have to wait a while," Julian said, glancing over at Ruby. She flushed, pleased, and clearly eager to learn. But she kept herself restrained, for now.

Mulberry sighed.

"Right. One of those things Oobleck told me and I drank to forget about. Gotcha. Moving on."

He examined Nicholas' Ascalon carefully. He traced the lines of the weapon. He looked over at Crocea Mors, then over at Weiss' Myrtenaster. His eyes widened slightly.

"... Definitely going to drink a lot more after this," the professor muttered to himself.

- - -

The safehouse in Vale's industrial district was a relic of better days—an old warehouse converted into an underground nightclub, now shuttered and silent under the midday sun. Roman's lien had ensured it stayed that way: doors locked, blinds drawn, no curious eyes prying.

Cinder Fall emerged from her private room at the back, still smoothing the last wrinkles from her black-and-red ensemble. Sleep had been fitful—dreams of fire and failure, of the twins and a certain blond knight's face that refused to fade even after everything. She pushed it down, deep, where it belonged. Just like the texts she'd exchanged with her… With the twins last night.

She kept it in a tight little box, along with all her other doubts. Locked away and hidden.

The main lounge smelled of sizzling meat and pipe smoke. Sebastian Zaroff stood at the makeshift kitchenette, apron over his safari jacket, flipping rashers of bacon with the same precision he'd once used to hunt men. His pipe—carved from some exotic Vacuan wood—sent lazy curls of aromatic smoke toward the ceiling.

He glanced up as she entered, offering a courteous nod. "Good morning, Miss Fall. Or afternoon, rather. Breakfast is nearly ready—traditional Albionese. Eggs, bacon, black pudding, beans, grilled tomatoes. Fortifies the soul for a day of villainy."

Cinder's eyes narrowed. "You're cooking."

Zaroff chuckled, sliding a perfectly fried egg onto a plate. "A man must eat. And I find a good meal steadies the nerves before unpleasant business." He set the plate at the head of the long table, then poured tea—strong, black, with a slice of lemon. "How did you sleep?"

She took the seat—throne-like by design, though less dramatic than her usual—and regarded him with cool suspicion. "Well enough. Your… domesticity is unexpected."

Zaroff removed the apron, folding it neatly before taking his own seat. He puffed his pipe, amber eyes twinkling. "I recognize the paranoia in your gaze, Miss Fall. But I am no threat. A good leader recognizes when ambitions align rather than clash."

Cinder sipped the tea—excellent, damn him. "My ambitions clash with everyone's."

Zaroff smiled faintly. "That leads to a lonely life. I quite understand—I've lived one myself. But conflict between us would only complicate matters, especially with our… unique teammates."

The doors burst open before Cinder could respond.

Roman Torchwick stormed in, dragging a snarling, thrashing Thanh Qinglong by the collar like a misbehaving dog. Asok—Sebastian's quiet Panduvian retainer—followed with a long-suffering sigh, carrying a tray of extra plates.

Thanh's green scales gleamed with sweat, red eyes wild. He lunged at Roman, claws slashing—only for Roman to sidestep with practiced ease, letting the lizard Faunus stumble.

Sebastian didn't even look up from his tea. "Problem?"

Roman dusted off his hands. "This creep tried sneaking into Neo's room. Again."

Thanh straightened, baring venomous fangs in a grin. "The little lady would welcome my attentions."

Neo materialized from nowhere—pink-and-brown eyes deadly, parasol spinning. In a blur, she slashed an X across Thanh's chest—shallow, precise, enough to bleed.

Thanh laughed, wounds already knitting. "See? She likes it rough."

Sebastian set his cup down with deliberate calm. "Behave, Thanh. Or I'll cut your head off and mount it myself."

Roman's hand twitched toward Melodic Cudgel. "Let me do it. Save us all the headache."

Sebastian raised a hand. "I'll handle discipline. For now."

Roman grumbled but stepped back. "For now."

Thanh smirked, licking blood from his lips as the cuts sealed.

The doors opened again—this time with Zhu bounding in, practically vibrating, Mercury slouching behind her.

"—and his eyes bulged out like this!" Zhu mimed with exaggerated glee, hands popping from her face. "And his tongue swelled up huge—funny, right? He was a politician! Great public speaker!"

Mercury snorted, actually laughing. "That's… kinda hilarious."

They claimed seats—Zhu perching on the table itself, Mercury slumping next to Neo and Roman.

Thanh growled low. "I'll hunt my own meat."

Sebastian nodded to Asok. "Assist, please."

Asok bowed and retrieved a massive side of beef from a cold chest—fresh, dripping. Thanh seized it with a snarl and dragged it off toward his room, tail lashing.

Sebastian sighed. "Caliban?"

"Charging, sir," Asok replied.

Iridescent flounced in next—cheerful as a sunrise, white hair bouncing. "Good morning, everyone! Or afternoon! Who cares!"

She greeted with exuberant waves: a polite nod to Sebastian, an excited bounce for Zhu, cautious smiles for Mercury and Cinder.

Roman muttered into his coffee. Neo ate her pancakes silently, smirking.

Iridescent plopped down. "So! What's the plan today?"

Cinder set her cup down. "Surveillance. Jaune Arc has been… courting the other future wives. We keep eyes on him. Learn weaknesses."

Zhu pouted, whipping cream onto her pancakes into a smiley face. "Can we kill anyone today?"

Sebastian shook his head. "Not yet. We aren't ready."

Zhu's whipped-cream face drooped. She made it talk in a high voice: "Can Zhu murder Thanh if she's good?"

Iridescent giggled. "That's up to Cinder!"

Cinder's voice was steel. "Only if necessary. We're outnumbered."

Sebastian nodded. "Rotate oversight of our more… colorful members. Keeps things manageable."

Cinder agreed. "Neo, Sebastian, and I will observe Jaune. Iridescent—"

"I'll help!" Iridescent beamed.

Cinder's eyes narrowed at the gleam in hers. "Fine. Get everything ready when you're done. After that? Stay close."

"Yes ma'am!" Iridescent said cheerfully.

Cinder finished last, rising as the others filed out.

Only Sebastian remained.

He puffed his pipe. "Wise to keep Iridescent close. Friends close, enemies closer."

Cinder snorted. "I have no friends."

Sebastian smiled faintly. "I suppose that's a luxury in our business. Though… It pays to invest in such things."

She huffed, heading for the door. "Keep your old man wisdom to yourself."

But as she left, his words lingered.

The closed off box stirred… And still, she ignored it.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Beacon, Vale

- - -

The weekend party in the unused Beacon dorm was a riot of light and sound—string lights twinkling like captured stars, bass thumping through the walls, bodies moving in a chaotic swirl of laughter and spilled drinks. Upperclassmen had turned the place into a den of rebellion: hard cider flowing, beer bottles clinking, and that glowing punch bowl drawing brave (or foolish) souls.

Pyrrha Nikos—usually the epitome of grace and restraint—had come with a mission.

Liquid courage.

She'd watched Jaune from across the room all night—laughing with his team, awkward but endearing—and her heart had done that familiar flip. Months of pining, of "just friends," of wondering if he'd ever see her as more than his partner.

Tonight, she'd decided, was the night. The night to confess her feelings.

One cup of punch to steady her nerves. Two because the first didn't quite do it. Three because… well, the room was spinning pleasantly, and courage felt close. Fourth and fifth followed because... Because she wasn't brave enough, damnit!

Now she leaned against a wall, cheeks flushed, green eyes a little glassy, red hair loose and wild. The world tilted nicely.

Perfect time to find Jaune.

Except three upperclassmen—fourth-years with too much beer and too little sense—found her first.

"Hey, champion," one slurred, leaning in too close. "You look like you could use company."

Another grinned, hand brushing her arm. "Yeah, let's dance. Or… something better."

Pyrrha blinked slowly, smile polite but wobbly. "I'm… waiting for someone."

They didn't listen. One reached out to caress her cheek.

"Looks like you found them, huh babe?"

Jaune Arc—hiding near the punch bowl with a single beer he'd been nursing for an hour—spotted the cluster. His stomach dropped.

Pyrrha. Cornered. She was drunk. She was helpless.

He moved—fast. He stepped in front of the fourth years, resting a hand on Pyrrha's shoulder.

"She's with me."

"Maybe she should make that decision, Deadlast," sneered one of the fourth years. Jaune glared back, standing his ground. They advanced... And a medium tall, dark skinned girl with blonde hair stepped in front of him and Pyrrha like a lioness guarding her pride.

"Back. Off," the young woman growled.

Her voice was low, calm—but carried the weight of someone who'd broken bigger men than these.

The fourth-years laughed—until the woman's hand gripped the leader's wrist, twisting just enough to make him yelp.

"I said," she repeated, "back off."

The creeps sized them up—Jaune's determined glare, the woman's unyielding stance—and decided discretion was the better part of not getting hospitalized.

They muttered excuses and vanished into the crowd.

Pyrrha swayed, smiling blearily. "Jaune… Arslan… hi."

Jaune caught her as she listed sideways. "Hey, hey—easy. You okay?"

It took him a second to parse Pyrrha's slurred words-Arslan Atlan?!

That was Pyrrha's Sanctum rival, taking Pyrrha's other arm with a concerned look on her face.

"She's had too much. Let's get her out of here," she said, and Jaune nodded in agreement.

Together, they guided Pyrrha through the crowd—Jaune murmuring apologies to bumped dancers, Arslan glaring anyone who looked too long—until they reached a quieter dorm room upstairs.

Pyrrha flopped onto the bed with a dramatic sigh, mumbling something about "courage" and "stupid punch."

Jaune pulled off her boots gently. Arslan fetched water from the hall fountain.

Pyrrha was out cold in minutes—snoring softly, face peaceful.

Jaune exhaled, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Thanks for the assist back there."

Arslan leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Couldn't let those idiots take advantage. Not of her."

They shared a quiet nod. The silence stretched.

Arslan broke it. "You're Arc, right? Jaune Arc."

"Yeah. Arslan Atlan?"

"Yes," she said, "Pyrrha tell you?"

"That you were rivals at Sanctum," Jaune said, "You were the only one who came close to giving her a challenge. That-That's really impressive."

Arslan nodded, face like stone but... Warmer somehow.

"Thank you."

She studied him. "Are you by chance the son of Nicholas Arc? Paladin Knight of the Order of Saint Edmund?"

Jaune blinked. "Uh… yeah. How'd you—"

Arslan's serious expression cracked into a genuine smile-Something he had never seen on the stoic girl's face. He had to admit, he liked it..

"Your father's a legend in the Church. The stories—facing Grimm hordes with nothing but sword and faith. Fighting with his team in Pandu... They teach us about him in Stonebreaker training. I... I've read the children's books about him."

Jaune rubbed his neck, cheeks pink. "He's… yeah. He's something."

Arslan stepped closer. "I grew up in the Church too. Tablebreaker faith—Aslan's teachings. But your father... He is why I became a Stonebreaker, of the Order of Peter. He inspired me to join. To fight the Grimm."

Jaune nodded. "Me too. I mean my mom and dad both inspired me... There are times I struggle with it... Like I struggle with everything..." His shoulders drooped a bit. Arslan rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Aslan said, 'They that are whole have no need of the physician, but they that are sick. I came not to call the righteous, but sinners to repentance.' Our weaknesses and flaws are things faith heals. And while we can never be perfect, we will never stop improving and doing good. Is that not why you are here, Jaune Arc? To do good in the world?"

Jaune slowly nodded.

"It... It is."

They talked—quiet at first, then easier. About faith in a world of Grimm. About duty. About feeling like you had to prove yourself worthy of the stories.

Arslan's usual stoicism softened. "I always admired your father. And… you're a lot like him. The way you jumped in back there."

Jaune laughed softly. "Trying to be."

Pyrrha snored louder.

They both smiled.

Arslan hesitated, then: "I'd… like to be friends. Real friends. If you're open to it."

Jaune's smile was genuine.

"I'd like that."

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Beacon, Vale

- - -

The party in the unused Beacon dorm was in full swing—string lights twinkling like mischievous stars, bass thumping hard enough to make your eardrums throb, and plenty of teenaged bodies packed tight in a chaotic swirl of laughter, spilled drinks, and dancing that skirted the edge of "indecent."

May Zedong—Vacuo orphan, quiet sniper, eternal wallflower—hadn't planned on drinking. Heck, she hadn't planned on attending at all.

She'd come because her team dragged her along. BRNZ—Brawnz, Roy, Nolan, and her—were supposed to "bond." Instead, they'd spent the night goofing off: Brawnz arm-wrestling upperclassmen, Roy and Nolan challenging people to drinking games, leaving May to hover awkwardly in the corner, Aura Sight picking up everyone's moods in glowing overlays she couldn't turn off.

Frustration had simmered all evening. She did the work—scouting, planning, covering their reckless asses in missions—while they played leader and clowns.

One cup of glowing punch to loosen up. Two because it tasted like candy. Three because the warmth felt nice. Four because she forgot how many she'd had.

Now the world tilted pleasantly, her usual shyness drowned in liquid courage.

Her team was mid-laugh-Brawnz flexing for a crowd, Roy and Nolan cheering-when they turned to May.

"Hey, May! You wanna go get me my Scroll?" Brawnz asked, "I wanna show off how awesome I was in that fight!"

May scowled. Truly scowled. It was surprising enough that Roy and Nolan were taken aback.

"Why? Can't you get it yourself?" She demanded, her words slurring slightly as she started on a slow burn.

Brawnz for his part was merely confused.

"Well, why can't you go get it for me? That fight was so cool and I totally dominated," Brawnz went on, oblivous to the anger about to be unleashed.

"I dominated! I shot the Grimm! You guys always leave me out!" she snapped, louder than she'd ever been. "I do all the work! Scouting, planning, watching your backs—and you just fight and goof off like idiots!"

The group froze. Nolan blinked, reaching out to her. "May? You okay?"

"No!" She swayed, pointing accusingly. "I'm tired of being invisible! You're the leader, Brawnz, but I'm the one keeping us alive!"

"I didn't mean that you-" Brawnz tried, but May's temper was well and truly lost.

"I didn't even want to be here! But you still made me come because I don't get to do anything!" May raged, "I'm just your-your PACK MULE! YOUR GUN! AND I'M SICK OF IT!"

Brawnz gaped. Roy tried to salvage things.

"We just wanted you to have a good time-!"

"WELL I'M NOT!" May yelled, throwing the cup down.

Her eyes stung. The buzz soured into embarrassment. She turned and staggered away—out a side door, into the cool night air of the balcony.

The breeze hit her like a truck. She gripped the railing, head spinning, regret crashing in.

Stupid. So stupid. Now they'll think I'm crazy.

Footsteps approached—soft, careful.

"You okay?"

May turned. Jaune Arc stood there, looking concerned—one hand in his pocket, a half-finished bottle of something mild in one hand.

She huffed, looking away. "Fine. Just… air."

Jaune joined her at the railing, leaving space. "Parties are intense. I get needing a break."

May glanced at him—tall, kind eyes, that awkward sincerity everyone teased but secretly liked. Her Aura Sight overlaid his glow: steady gold, warm, threaded with quiet determination and a flicker of loneliness.

They stood in silence a moment.

Then the words spilled out.

"My team… they're great fighters, but I do everything else. Planning. Watching. Shooting. Chores... And they just… don't see me."

Jaune nodded slowly. May kept going on, quiet and ashamed.

"They-They've saved me... But they're also jerks. They make me do the laundry, the paperwork, the cooking, the cleaning... I have to do everything... They even dragged me out here and-and I didn't want to. I didn't want to see everything! I didn't want to do all this... I just... I just wanted...!"

She sniffled, and began to cry. She felt a handkerchief touch her hand. She looked up, saw Jaune was offering her the cloth. She took it, wiped her eyes, and blew her nose. She flushed, and handed it back. Jaune awkwardly shook his head and smiled softly.

"Keep it," he said. May nodded, a bit unsteady. He got close to support her.

"I... I can see everyone's Souls," she mumbled, "I can see so much and it's... It's so much. It's overwhelming... I'm so tired... I'm so tired of being the strong one..."

"I'm sorry," Jaune whispered. "I... I get that. I mean... Being overwhelmed. Not the seeing Souls thing."

May looked at him—really looked. His Aura was bright, honest. No pretense.

"I... I have Aura Sight—they think it's cool, but it's… isolating. Always seeing more than people want. I can see so much... So much I don't want to."

"That... That still sounds amazing," Jaune said eagerly. "My godfather has a similar Semblance, and he's super cool. He's an incredible archer! There's nothing he can't hit." He grinned. "I bet you're just like him."

May blushed deeply.

"I... I am a pretty good shot," she whispered, "But when you can see so much... Y-You see so much of people and they don't understand..."

Jaune's eyes softened. "That sounds hard. Am... Are you seeing anything bad with me?"

May beamed into his chest.

"No," she whispered, "I... I like seeing you..."

They talked—really talked. About feeling on the outside. About hiding parts of themselves. About quiet places they escaped to, books they loved in secret.

The punch wore off slowly, leaving warmth that wasn't alcohol.

May's heart raced. She looked up at him, voice soft but steady.

"Jaune… would you go out with me? Like… a date?"

Jaune's eyes widened. "May, I—"

Panic hit. "Forget it! I'm buzzed, stupid—"

"No!" He caught her hand gently. "I'd love to. But… you've been drinking. How about you ask when you're sober?"

May stared, then nodded—shy, hopeful. "Okay."

He smiled. "Promise?"

"Promise. Also... Sorry."

"Sorry? For what-?"

May turned and threw up over the balcony railing. She then passed out. Jaune held her, bright red.

"Oh boy..."

The next morning, May woke with a pounding headache and crystal-clear memory.

She groaned into her pillow. She'd asked Jaune Arc out. While buzzed. Like a complete idiot.

She'd yelled at her teammates too. What was she thinking?!

"Uh..."

She looked up from her bunk. Brawnz, Roy and Nolan stood in front of her, looking contrite. She flushed and wrapped herself in her blankets.

"Um... G-Guys... I uh... Um..."

Brawnz sighed.

"Hey. We're... Sorry, okay?"

"He's the most sorry," Nolan muttered. Brawnz glared at him before he looked back at May. He reached out a hand and rested it on her shoulder.

"What I mean is... We did just want you to have some fun," Brawnz said, "Because you do work so hard."

"And we do appreciate you, May, even if we don't say it," Roy agreed. He handed her a glass of water and aspirin. She took them, wincing but grateful.

"Thank you," she murmured shyly. Brawnz grinned.

"We'll get you breakfast! You need protein after all that."

"Yeah," Nolan agreed. The three headed out, muttering quietly to eachother. They shut the door behind them. May sighed, burying herself in her blankets.

Her scroll buzzed. She read the caller ID: Jaune Arc?!

Hey May. Still on for that date? Festival tonight? Sober you this time.

May's face burned. But her heart soared.

She typed back, fingers trembling.

Yes. I'd love to.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Radian, Vale

Seven Years After Salem's Defeat

- - -

Cinder frowned at her newest baby, Ingis. The six month old whined, shook his high chair, and moved his head whenever her spoon full of baby food got close.

"Come on, Ignis," she murmured, "You've eaten this before. You like it!"

"Mmpah!" Ignis bleated. Cinder sighed in irritation.

"You know you like it," she insisted. Ignis burbled, and she stuck the spoon in like lightning when he opened his mouth. "See?"

The baby smacked his lips... And whined some more. Cinder sighed.

"So picky," she muttered. There was a knock at the door. She raised an eyebrow as she picked Ignis up and headed for the door, padding in her usual red housedress. Ignis babbled, and she stroked his back to sooth him.

"There there, we'll get through your mashed carrots soon enough," she soothed. Ash and Ashley were at the hospital today, and Jaune hadn't called that he was coming home early. So who was it?

Probably Rose or Nora here to drop in unannounced, as usual, she thought with a sniff, as she opened the door. She blinked-Nobody was on the porch...

"I-I will... Slay you!" Squeaked a voice. She looked down. A small boy with pale skin and wearing a pink and blue blanket as a cape stood there, holding up a toy sword. Cinder raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? And who are you?"

"I'm... Lord Baddest Dude!" He declared. "And I will defeat the heroes of the world and become the greatest villain Remnant has ever seen."

What, Cinder thought. Ignis babbled, unimpressed. Her baby's reaction made her snort in laughter.

The boy scowled.

"Hey! I really will! I-I'll be sooo powerful I'll stomp all the good guys and rule! And nobody will tell me to go to bed ever!"

Cinder shook her head.

Was I ever this bad? She wondered. Maybe, once, yes. But now...

Rather than anger, resentment, or guilt... She just saw an innocent child playing around. One who didn't know any better.

An innocence she felt very protective over.

Cinder knelt down, adjusting Ignis to keep him comfortable, and looked into Lord Baddest Dude's eyes, her own filled with amusement.

"Well, Lord Baddest Dude," she said with a grin, "It takes a lot of work to be an evil villain. Have you got it all planned out? Do you have an evil scheme?"

"Yeah huh!" Lord Baddest Dude said, "I'm gonna defeat you! Then lure in Ser Jaune and Lady Ruby, and beat them! And then you'll all have to work for me because I defeated you!"

Cinder snickered.

"Oh? Is that how it works, Lord Baddest Dude?"

"Yeah huh!" Lord Baddest Dude insisted, nodding his head very enthusiastically. "Then with your power I'll make my parents let me stay up as long as I like! So there! I mean, you already switched sides so I thought I'd start with you!"

"Ah, but there is the flaw in your plan, Lord Baddest Dude," Cinder pointed out, poking him in his belly and making him giggle, "I did turn from evil to good. Who's to say I wouldn't be pretending to go along with your plan, and then betray you at the last second? I did that to Salem, you know. Helped save Ruby and Jaune."

"You wouldn't!" Lord Baddest Dude declared... Then he winced. "Would you?"

Cinder laughed.

"Oh, I would. But you'd never know when it would come," she said, "So you couldn't trust me even if you defeated me."

"Bwawawa," Ignis added, before burping. Lord Baddest Dude frowned.

"But... Maybe I'd know you'd betray me so I'd betray you first!" He insisted.

"But I would know you would know I would betray you, so I'd know you would betray me," Cinder countered playfully. Lord Baddest Dude blinked a few times.

"Wha...?"

"Would you like to have some cookies and milk while you work that out?" Cinder asked with a little smile. Lord Baddest Dude looked suspicious.

"... Chocolate chip?"

"Only the best," she confirmed. Lord Baddest Dude nodded happily.

"Okay!"

- - -

It was a few hours later that Jaune returned from the hospital, Ash and Ashley in their buggy. The two year olds were tuckered out and sleeping, and Jaune was glad of it. He pushed the cart up the path to the house, and lifted it easily up onto the porch. He reached out for the door knob... When it opened, one Eleanor Rigby, their neighbor, standing there. She was holding a five year old boy in a pink and blue cape in her arms, who was fast asleep.

"Thanks for finding him, Mrs. Arc," Eleanor sighed in relief. Cinder chuckled back, shaking her head. Ignis was sleeping in her arms, his face recently cleaned.

"No problem at all, Eleanor. He's free to come by any time!"

"Thanks!" Eleanor sighed. She smiled at Jaune. "Jaune! Great to see you! Your wife found little Jude-"

"I saw," Jaune said with a smile, "Glad he's all right."

"We'll see you at church!" Eleanor said, waving as she carried her sleeping son off the porch and down the path. Jaune pushed the buggy inside, letting go to kiss Cinder deeply.

"Mmm... How was your day?" Jaune asked. Cinder chuckled.

"Well... I may have kept a new supervillain from rising to challenge us in the future," she said, "But I suppose only time will tell. Perhaps he'll make for a useful asset if I ever decide to return to villainy."

Jaune blinked.

"I... Suppose?"

- - -

 

[AndrewJTalon]

- - -

Isabel was back at work at the computer, looking over the findings and data with her practiced eye. The Beacon Infirmary was quite cutting edge-Not quite up to her standards, but close enough.

"How's it going, sweetie?"

Isabel looked up and smiled as Nick walked in.

"All right. Still not much hope but... I'm starting to understand things a bit better," she admitted. She shook her head. "I'm wondering if Jaune's Semblance might help the patient? 100 percent Aura transfer, Semblance boosting..." She hummed as she pored through a few more files. "It's possible..."

"That's great!" Nick cheered. "Poor girl stuck in a coffin... You'll get her out of it! I know it!"

"Aw," Isabel blushed softly. Nick walked over and rested a hand on her shoulder.

"You should train with him after classes, and before his dates."

Isabel gaped.

"Wha-Me?!"

"Yes, you," Nick said eagerly. "His Semblance is closer to yours than mine."

"But-But I'm not-I'm hopeless with a sword and-" Isabel tried, but Nick shook his head.

"A knight needs to know how to fight in hand to hand too, and you're amazing at that. Tactics, too!"

"I-You're literally the warrior here!" Isabel insisted. Nick smirked.

"Combat Medic? You did plenty, Izzy! And you were clearly meaning to do harm against Raven!"

"I-I..." She shook her head and clenched her fists. She took a deep breath, and her face went cool and stoic.

"I don't think it's a good idea," she said calmly. Nick scowled.

"You're doing the suppressing your emotions Vulcanoid thing again from Space Quest!"

Isabel nodded.

"Yes. Don't you like it?"

"Usually, it's really sexy, but not now," Nick said, shaking his head. "What are you afraid of, Izzy?"

Isabel frowned, and contemplated it.

"I... I may have smothered Jaune," she admitted, "and our other kids. In this situation, maybe he doesn't need me to hover over him. Four of our kids ran away-"

"As adults," Nick said firmly, "They could make their own decisions. Sure, you can be overbearing... Sometimes... A lot..."

Isabel scowled, her emotion suppression fading. It was a common occurrence around her husband.

Out of long honed survival instinct, he held up his hands.

"But you're still their mother, Izzy," Nick said kindly, "And he still loves you. Besides! He's got your brains, but he's got my... Not brain parts! You two fight a bit and you'll clear the air!"

"Not everything can be solved by fighting, Nick," Isabel sighed.

Nick blinked several times. Isabel shook her head.

"Not everything is a fight!"

He blinked several more times. Isabel scowled.

"Just because you imagine everything like a fight doesn't mean all of life can be summed up as one!" She stated in exasperation.

Nick blinked twice more. Isabel scowled and crossed her arms over her chest.

"We do have to train the kids for their punishment," Isabel pointed out. Nick waved his hand.

"I can handle that! I'll just do what Nana did!"

Isabel winced.

"Oh don't tell me... That training?"

"The very same!" Nick grinned, his teeth nearly sparkling in the light from the windows. He squeezed Isabel's shoulder. "Come on Izzy. He's gonna need us both to get through this. Just like the rest of our new family."

Isabel sighed softly, her shoulders drooping a bit. She slowly nodded.

"All right," she groaned, "You win. I'll train with him."

Nick whooped, thrusting his arms up into the air.

"Yes! Once again, my philosophy works!"

Isabel bonked him on the head.

"That's an entirely subjective read of the situation!"

"Ow! Okay, we both win!"

"That's not-UGH!"

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Beacon, Vale

- - -

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

Bodies packed the space—dancing, laughing, grinding in ways that would've sent Professor Goodwitch into a meltdown. Hell, it probably would if other students weren't running interference.

Blake Belladonna lingered near the edge of the chaos, a cup of that suspiciously glowing punch in hand. She hadn't meant to drink much—one cup to blend in, to loosen the constant vigilance that came with hiding her ears. But the room was loud, the air thick with sweat and laughter, and the punch was deceptively sweet.

One cup became two. Two became… enough that her ears twitched restlessly under the bow, itching for freedom.

She slipped out a side door before anyone noticed, the cool night air hitting her like a balm. The balcony overlooked Beacon's cliffs, stars sharp above, the distant thump of music muffled.

Blake leaned on the railing, exhaling slowly. Her hand drifted up, tugging the bow loose. She longed for freedom-

"Mind if I join you?"

She startled slightly, turning.

Jaune Arc stood in the doorway, a half-empty bottle in hand, looking a little rumpled—shirt untucked, hair messier than usual, blue eyes soft with the kind of quiet melancholy alcohol brought out.

Blake hesitated, then shrugged. "It's fine."

He joined her at the railing, leaving polite space. They stood in companionable silence for a moment, staring at the stars.

Jaune glanced sideways. "You can take the bow off, if you want. I won't tell."

Blake's ears twitched sharply. She stared at him. "You… know?"

He nodded, sipping his drink. "Yeah. For a while. We had Faunus back in Radian—neighbors, friends. You get good at spotting the signs. The way you tilt your head sometimes, or how the bow moves when you're thinking hard." He smiled faintly. "Didn't want to make you uncomfortable by saying anything."

Blake blinked, processing. Confusion, curiosity—and a strange relief.

"How… long?"

"Since about a month after initiation," he admitted, rubbing his neck. "You're good at hiding it. Really good."

She let the bow fall completely, ears flicking in the breeze. "Most people don't notice. Or pretend not to."

Jaune shrugged. "I grew up on a farm. And my best friend growing up was a cat Faunus. I think you'd like her."

Blake smiled. "Oh?"

"Yeah," Jaune nodded.

Silence settled again—comfortable, easy.

Blake sipped her punch, the buzz making her bolder. "What's a farm boy like you doing morose at a party?"

Jaune stared at his bottle. "Just… thinking. About home. About why I left. Sometimes it hits harder when I'm drinking."

Blake nodded slowly. "I get that."

He glanced at her. "You okay? You looked like you needed air too."

She exhaled. "Parties are… loud. And I'm not great at them. Too many people, too much pretending."

Jaune smiled. "Same. I came out here to hide."

They shared a quiet laugh.

Then Blake asked, "What was it like? Growing up on a farm?"

Jaune's eyes softened. He talked—slow at first, then easier. About wide fields, sunrise chores, his seven sisters chasing him through apple orchards. About planting seeds and watching them grow, the satisfaction of harvest. About his parents—strong, loving, but terrified of losing him to the same life that had scarred them.

Blake listened, ears forward.

When he finished, she spoke—quiet, halting at first.

About Menagerie. About the White Fang's early days—hopeful, righteous. About Adam's charisma turning dark. About running, hiding, the bow becoming her mask.

Jaune listened without judgment, nodding at the right moments, asking gentle questions.

Hours passed. The party noise faded. They talked books—Ninjas of Love (Blake's secret shame, Jaune's unexpected enjoyment), old Mistral epics, even some Vacuo adventure serials. They talked dreams—hers for equality, his to protect people who couldn't protect themselves.

They talked until the punch wore off and the stars began to fade.

Blake realized—sometime between his story about sneaking cookies from his mom's kitchen and her confession about loving terrible romance novels—that she felt… safe.

Jaune felt it too—the way her ears perked when she got excited, the soft laugh she tried to hide.

When the sky lightened with dawn, they finally stood.

Blake tied her bow back on, but slower now. "This was… nice."

Jaune smiled—warm, real. "Yeah. We should do it again. Sober, maybe."

She laughed. "Definitely sober."

They walked back inside together—friends, truly, for the first time.

Romance came later—slow, careful, built on late-night talks and shared books and quiet moments where hands brushed and lingered.

But that night on the balcony?

That was where it started.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The Beacon teachers' lounge smelled of fresh coffee, old books, and the faint ozone tang of Dust experiments. Late morning sunlight slanted through the high windows, catching motes of dust like tiny stars. It was supposed to be a quiet hour—grading, gossip, the occasional grumble about Port's stories.

Today, it was anything but.

Dorothy Arc-Goodwitch stood in the center of the room like she'd just announced the end of the world.

"So… uh… yeah! I'm from the future!"

Doctor Oobleck paused mid-sip of his triple-espresso, green eyes blinking rapidly behind his glasses. "Yes, we covered that part."

Librarian Mombi nodded slowly. "I… had a feeling it would be something like this."

Ann Green, Stealth and Security instructor, leaned forward from her chair—arms crossed, stare intense enough to peel paint. Dorothy beamed back, undaunted.

"You're just as scary as ever, Aunt Ann."

Ann's eyebrow arched. "Which Starlight Ranger is my favorite?"

"Green, duh. Because he was evil."

Ann leaned back, satisfied. "…She's from the future, all right."

Professor Port slammed his mug down, mustache quivering with delight. "Incredible! Eleven different futures, no less! But in at least one, poor Glynda didn't end up a lonely spinster!"

Oobleck sighed. "That's your takeaway?"

"OF COURSE!"

Glynda took a deep, calming breath—inhale four counts, hold four, exhale four—then fixed Port with the most strained smile in recorded history. "Glad to see my love life is of such importance to you."

Port beamed, oblivious. "Of course it is, Glynda! We're very happy for you!"

Ann smirked. "Yes. Good to know you don't die alone. Go Glynda."

Mombi fidgeted. "Y-Yes, it's nice to know! Though… he's a little young…"

Port puffed up. "I met my wife when we were fifteen! I, Covered in Grimm guts after cutting my way through an ancient Dunewyrm! She cover in bandit blood that shone in the moonlight—love at first sight!"

Dorothy, quick to defend her mom's honor, jumped in. "If it helps, they really didn't do anything until much, much later."

Glynda deadpanned, "Thank you, Dorothy."

The door banged open.

Harold Mulberry stormed in—rumpled coat, perpetual scowl—beelined for the bookshelf, pulled out a hollowed book, retrieved a whiskey bottle, and started draining it.

Dorothy waved cheerfully. "Hey, Uncle Harold!"

Oobleck adjusted his glasses. "Ah. He's starting later today."

Port chuckled. "What? You can't start the day without a proper whiskey!"

Harold froze at Dorothy's voice. Took one look at her. Sighed. Went to another hidden compartment, grabbed a second bottle, and resumed drinking.

"Haaa…" he exhaled. "Glad it's a half day, after the class with your husband. I just realized the implications of time travelers. Now I want to get drunk."

Glynda sighed. "I suppose I can't blame you…"

Ann leaned forward. "So… do I marry my boyfriend and have lots of kids? Or die? Or get a sweet robot arm? Or become the Dark Queen of Vale?"

Dorothy grinned. "Yes, no, maybe, and sort of?"

Ann nodded, satisfied. "Cool."

Port bounced in his seat. "Do I realize my dream of slaying a Grimm Hydra in one-on-one combat?!"

Dorothy's smile turned fond. "If your stories are to be believed, you slayed three."

"YES!"

"But that's just one timeline," Oobleck pointed out as he adjusted his glasses. "It does no good to ask about such things, given the complexities of the multiverse. We're only seeing eleven possible timelines out of a potential infinite number."

Mombi's eyes went wide. "Ah! W-Wait?! Does that mean nothing we do matters?! If we're an endless series of copies doing things over and over, does anything we do even count?! Does it matter if a coin flips and you die or live or—?!"

Ann smacked her upside the head.

"OW! Hey!"

"Don't do that," Ann said flatly. "You'll just be more depressed."

Dorothy smiled reassuringly. "Honestly though… you all make it through in my timeline. I grew up with you as additional aunts and uncles!"

Port sniffled, a tear glistening. "I have a niece!"

Oobleck sipped his coffee. "You have six children."

"Yes, but A NIECE!"

Dorothy coughed..

"Actually, eight more nieces and nephews. Well, nine."

Mombi gaped. "Wait—Glynda had nine kids with Jaune?!"

Dorothy beamed. "Yup!"

Harold groaned from the couch, pulling out yet another bottle. "…And I have to teach them all…"

Glynda blinked. "Wait, I thought you said I had ten—because when you left I was still pregnant with…" She trailed off, noticing the smug expressions around her, and turned away to hide her burning face. "Moving on."

"Well, Clarence hasn't been born yet, so he doesn't count!" Dorothy pouted.

Ann snorted.

"Clarence? Ha. Lame name."

"That's my father's name," Glynda said, slightly annoyed. Dorothy nodded.

"We know it's a boy this time."

Ann shrugged.

"Cool dad. Lame name."

Oobleck cleared his throat.

"That said… we should avoid asking too many questions about our fates. It could make us second-guess ourselves at critical moments."

Dorothy shook her head.

"The timeline's already changed! So honestly, no idea what's going to happen."

Port's eyes lit up. "Which means we get to ask whatever we want!"

The door burst open again.

Professor Thumbelina Peach swept in—strawberry-blonde hair bouncing, smile bright enough to power Vale for a week.

"Sorry I'm late~! But not late for class! Hey guys! Hey Glynda! Hey Dorothy!"

She beamed at Oobleck with a sultry glint in her eyes. "Hey, Bart~…"
Oobleck nodded politely. "Good morning to you as well, Professor Peach."

Peach turned to Dorothy, practically vibrating. "Sooo… we didn't get a chance to talk about the future, did we?"

Dorothy shook her head. "No, Aunt Lina."

"Sooo… any spoilers?"

Dorothy rolled her eyes playfully. "Without naming names—yes, you do end up marrying him."

Peach threw her hands up. "YES! WOOOOOOOO!"

She coughed, composing herself. "Ahem… I mean… good."

Oobleck blinked. "Hm? What are you talking about?"

Peach waved a hand. "Oh, nothing~…"

Glynda leaned in, whispering to Dorothy. "Does she actually?"

Dorothy nodded excitedly. "Oh yeah—I was the flower girl, after all."

"Does she become less annoying in the future?" Harold muttered into his bottle.

Dorothy grinned. "Yes and no. Her energy just gets redirected—mainly to her kids. But the enthusiasm stays the same. Just… different topics."

Harold grunted. "I see."

Peach bounced over to Oobleck. "Bart, honey~! We should go to the festival~!"

Oobleck shook his head. "With everything happening, there's far more work than before. I'm afraid I don't have time. Perhaps Dorothy could accompany you."

Port jumped up. "Jolly good! Let's all go out together!"

"No," said Harold and Ann, in unison.

"Yes!" Port insisted.

Dorothy pouted at Harold, puppy-dog eyes deployed. "Come on, Uncle Harold—we almost never get to spend time together these days!"

"I don't know that. You're from the future—it hasn't happened yet."

Port pointed out at the quad outside the windows.

"We'll help you barbecue your famous boar roast!"

Harold paused. "…No vegetables?"

"None!"

"Hmm..."

Mombi raised her hand. "Can't we have a side salad?"

"Bring your own," Harold snorted, "We won't be eating them."

"Yeah!" Dorothy said.

"INDEED!" Port cried.

"Fine," Mombi pouted.

"Honestly, this isn't necessary," Glynda said quickly, "I can handle this just fine on my own."

Peach smirked evilly.

"Are you sure? When was the last time you went on a date, anyway?"

"Wasn't it that gallant young Atlasian officer?" Port asked, "In… When was it…"

"The last year at Beacon," Mombi murmured. She flushed as everyone, Glynda especially, stared at her. "W-Well it was!" She said defensively.

Mulberry raised an eyebrow over his whiskey.

"Are you sure you should go on a date at all? You're still his teacher. Time travel or not… How would it look to the press?"

Glynda took a moment to find her center.

"I agree that the look is… Potentially scandalous, especially after everything that has happened," Glynda said quietly. She shook her head. "But the alternative is time travel being possible becoming public. It's not like I haven't been in the news for potential scandals before, Harold. I have weathered them and things worked out."

"True," Harold grunted, "And you're not the type to ruin your career or our reputation on a fling. You're too honorable for that."

Glynda raised an eyebrow.

"Was that a compliment, Harold Mulberry?"

"Don't get used to them," Harold grunted. Port laughed.

"So many layers to my esteemed colleague!"

"Nope," Harold muttered.

Peach, gathering up her papers, shook her head. "Besides, we already spilled the beans on them being engaged as a cover story. The public's gonna make their judgements. And if she wants to go on a date with Arc, why shouldn't she?"

She gave Glynda a look.

"You do want to date him, don't you?"

Glynda glanced at the hopeful Dorothy. She thought back to her interactions with the young man. His smile, his moments of wisdom that made him seem older, and his resemblance to his father in a few ways… Yes, the attraction was there. She had never seriously pursued Nick-She had been too occupied with her studies, and Isabel had been clear via her actions if not her words that she considered Nick hers. But she had admired the young man's courage, honesty, and strength, and made a few overtures towards him. Overtures the young man had, predictably, misinterpreted as friendly. He had been so pure, so kind… Traits that Jaune had inherited, along with his mother's intelligence, recklessness, and stubbornness.

Had it been the timeline where it was just her, this would be a non-issue. Assuming Salem hadn't attacked, she would have waited until his graduation to proceed with a relationship of any kind. The spark was there. And she did want to kindle it. For her children and the future, if nothing else, she could see herself falling in love with the man Jaune Arc would become.

Glynda slowly nodded.

"Yes," she admitted quietly.

Peach grinned broadly.

"Then why not go for it? And reinforce the cover?"

"I don't think it will need too much work," Port chuckled, "If anyone would get his son engaged to eleven women, it'd be Nick Arc! Haha!"

Harold nodded.

"He is the same idiot he was back in school."

Peach smirked. "True enough! I've gotta go teach that idiot's sont. Be back later." She turned and headed off, the door shutting quietly behind her-Though not without a wink at Oobleck, which he blinked back at in confusion.

Dorothy's wry grin spread. "Yeah, Pop-Pops doesn't get much better in the future."

Mombi flushed. "I'm surprised Isabel lets him out without a leash."

She froze. "…I said that out loud…"

Dorothy face paled. "C-Can we not talk about Gram-Grams and Pop-Pops with… leashes? I'd really prefer not to have that image in my head." She whispered to herself, "It was bad enough walking in on Mom and Dad with one…"

Glynda turned bright red.

"In any event!" Port cried, showing some tact, "Glynda, you're engaged! It's good for you to go out and get to know each other! We're behind you, one hundred percent!"

"Thank the Breaker he's at least eighteen," Harold muttered.

Dorothy turned to the group. "Again—and I can't stress this enough—they really didn't do anything until Dad was at least twenty. Heck, it wasn't until he returned older from the Ever After that things got serious."

Silence fell. Oobleck leaned forward, his eyes intense with inquisitive light.

"Wait… the Ever After? It's real?"

"The mythical dimension between Man and Gods?!" Mombi gasped.

"The dimension of adventure and the Jabberwocky?!" Port asked in glee.

"The place in that lame novel that was turned into a horror movie, porno, and horror porno?" Ann inquired.

Dorothy winced. Oops.

She turned to Glynda with a nervous grin. "…So in my defense, I was almost one hundred percent positive you all knew about that."

A beat.

"Also that Dad is really the Rusted Knight."

"He's WHAT?!" Glynda cried.

The lounge dissolved into chaos—questions, exclamations, Harold reaching for another bottle.

Glynda scowled at her daughter.

"Start talking. Now."

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Beacon, Vale

- - -

The underground party in the unused Beacon dorm raged like a storm contained in four walls—string lights twinkling overhead like mischievous stars, bass thumping through the floorboards, bodies packed tight in a chaotic swirl of laughter, spilled drinks, and dancing that pushed every boundary of "appropriate."

Winter Schnee hadn't come for the party.

She'd come for Weiss.

Word had reached her—her little sister, sneaking out to some illicit student gathering. Unacceptable. Irresponsible. Dangerous.

Winter cut through the crowd like an shark through water—uniform crisp despite the late hour, white hair tied severely, blue eyes cutting through the haze. Students parted instinctively, whispers trailing her like frost.

She found Weiss near the glowing punch bowl—cheeks flushed, cup in hand, laughing with Ruby and Yang in a way Winter hadn't seen since they were children.

The sight stopped her cold.

Then ignited her.

"Weiss Schnee!"

The music didn't stop, but the circle around Weiss did.

Weiss turned—smile fading, eyes widening. "Winter? What are you—"

Winter snatched the cup from her hand, sniffing it with disdain. "Alcohol? At your age? In this… den of debauchery?"

Weiss's face hardened. "I'm not a child. And you don't get to barge in here—"

"I am your sister! And your trainer! This is reckless—"

"Reckless?!" Weiss's voice rose, drawing more eyes. "Like running off to the military and leaving me and Whitley alone with Father?!"

Winter flinched as if struck.

The words kept coming—sharp, venomous, years of resentment spilling out.

"You abandoned us! Left Whitley to his games, me to his expectations! You got to escape—be the perfect soldier—while I had to smile and play heiress!"

Winter's composure cracked. "I left to protect you both! To build something he couldn't touch!"

"Protect?!" Weiss laughed bitterly. "You weren't there when he—"

She cut off, but the damage was done.

Winter's voice went quiet—dangerous. "You have no idea what I sacrificed."

Weiss's eyes glistened. "And you have no idea what it cost us."

She stormed off—pushing through the crowd, disappearing into the halls.

Winter stood frozen, the cup crumbling in her grip from sheer force.

The party resumed around her, but the noise felt distant.

She turned and walked out—to the balcony, needing air that didn't taste like regret.

The night was cool, stars sharp. She gripped the railing, breath shaking.

Footsteps approached.

Jaune Arc—looking awkward in the doorway, a bottle of water in hand—paused. "Uh… everything okay?"

Winter didn't turn. "Leave me."

He didn't. Instead, he joined her at the railing—respectful distance, quiet presence.

"I saw the fight," he said softly. "With Weiss."

Winter's jaw tightened. "It's family business."

Jaune nodded. "Yeah. I get that."

Silence fell. The sounds of the party were distant and muffled. Winter looked out at the cold stars, felt the breeze.

Then, to her surprise, she spoke.

"She thinks I abandoned them. That I ran."

Jaune listened in silence.

"I left to protect them," Winter whispered. "From him. From what he'd turn them into. But she's right… I wasn't there. Whitley's becoming his mirror. Weiss is breaking under the weight I left behind. I... I suppose I can't blame her for hating me. After she got out. It was... It was selfish of me."

Jaune's voice was gentle. "Weiss could never hate you. Not really. She's angry because she loves you. Because she misses you."

Winter's breath hitched. "How can you be sure?"

"Because I know what it's like to fight with family. To say things you regret. But love like that… it doesn't break. It bends. Hurts. But it holds." He smiles. "She always talked about you, you know? Her idol. Her inspiration. She loves you. She's just... Had to hold a lot back, and it came out. It doesn't change the fact she loves you, and she'll probably really regret what she said in the morning. It'll suck right now... But it will get better."

Winter turned to him—really looked. The awkward boy from Weiss' complaints had depth. She hadn't expected that.

"You're… wise for someone so young," she complimented softly.

Jaune rubbed his neck, cheeks pink. "I've just made a lot of mistakes, but... I try to learn from them."

She managed a faint smile. "Thank you. For listening."

He smiled back—warm, steady. "Anytime."

Jaune was right. The next morning, a very contrite Weiss had tearfully begged for forgiveness. Winter had granted it, holding her sobbing little sister close in a private room. Things were actually better between them after this.

In the weeks that followed—leading up to Vytal—Winter found excuses to visit Beacon. Training oversight. Coordination with Goodwitch. Meeting her little sister.

But whenever possible?

She stopped by to talk to Jaune.

And every little visit made her yearn for more.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

North Sanus, Gallia

Two months after the Vytal Attacks

- - -

The Arc farmhouse in Radian smelled of fresh bread and woodsmoke, the kind of homey warmth that made the world's chaos feel far away. The living room was cozy—overstuffed couches, family photos on the mantel, a fire crackling low in the hearth. Ruby had arrived just that morning, still pale from her coma but stubborn enough to insist on the meeting. She sat bundled in a blanket on the couch, silver eyes bright but tired.

Blake stood in the center of the room, ears flat, as she faced Nora, Ren, and Yang. Jaune lingered nearby, arms crossed, watching carefully. The air was tense as hell.

"I'm sorry," Blake said quietly. "For running out on you. For abandoning you when you needed me most. I thought… I thought I could handle Adam alone. That I had to. But I was wrong. I nearly got Jaune killed. I left you all to clean up the mess I made. And... And all I can say is I'm sorry."

Yang's fists clenched, her metallic and flesh. Blake winced. Her hair flickered like embers.

"You think a sorry fixes it? You didn't trust us! You ran off like we were nothing—like I wasn't there fighting for you too! You nearly got him killed chasing your damn ghost!"

She lunged—Nora catching her around the waist just in time, grunting with the effort.

"Easy, Yang! Easy! Kitty-Cat screwed up but-!"

Yang snarled, struggling. "Let go, Nora! She doesn't get to just waltz back and—"

"STOP IT!"

Ruby's voice cracked through the room like a whip. She was on her feet, blanket falling away, silver eyes blazing.

"This won't help!" Ruby shouted. "None of it! We're a team—we're supposed to be!"

Yang went still, breathing hard. Nora released her slowly.

Ruby turned to Blake, voice softer but firm. "I'm glad you're back. Really. But… I'm mad too. You hurt us."

Blake bowed her head. "I know. I deserve it."

Jaune stepped forward. "I'm sorry too. For going after her alone. I should've told you."

"Yes, you should have," Ruby stated, soft and hurt.

Yang glared at him, then at Blake, then stormed out the front door—slamming it hard enough to rattle the windows.

Ruby sighed, rubbing her temples. "We're going after Cinder. All of us. That hasn't changed."

Nora pumped a fist. "Hell yeah!"

Ren nodded. "Agreed."

"Yes, we will," Blake agreed, as Jaune nodded in agreement.

Ruby managed a small smile at Blake. "Welcome back."

She and Nora headed out after Yang. Jaune followed, pausing to squeeze Blake's shoulder. "Give her time."

The door closed, leaving Blake alone with Ren.

He regarded her calmly, hands folded.

"I'm with Jaune and Ruby to the end," he said. "I'll forgive you… but I won't forget. Don't do that again. Ever."

Blake met his eyes, just barely. "Yes... I-I won't."

Ren's expression softened a fraction. "You'll need to apologize to Weiss too."

"I will."

She hesitated. "And… Pyrrha. I'm sorry, Ren. For everything."

Ren shook his head. "That's not mine to forgive. Talk to Jaune."

He turned and headed out, closing the door behind him. Blake was left alone, only the cracking of the fireplace. Her ears folded over, as she sighed softly.

I promised I would stay... And I'm staying...

- - -

Later, as the sun dipped low over the fields, Blake found Jaune by the chicken coop. He tossed handfuls of corn to the clucking flock, the simple motion steady and familiar. His scars—Adam's marks—caught the golden light.

He looked up as she approached, smiling softly. "Hey."

"Hey."

Blake stopped beside him, watching the chickens peck and scratch for a while. She then slowly looked up at him.

"Pyrrha...?"

Jaune's hand stilled. He took a deep breath, eyes on the horizon. Blake shook her head.

"If you don't want to-"

"No," Jaune murmured, "I need to... I need to tell you. I need to be honest."

He visibly steeled himself. He locked eyes with her.

"She kissed me," he said quietly. "Told me she loved me. Then shoved me into a rocket locker and launched me away. Said I'd done enough. That I had to live."

Blake winced. She had suspected that Pyrrha might have had feelings for Jaune... But that far...?

His voice cracked. "I wasn't strong enough to help her. I'd have just gotten in the way. But I still… I still wish I could've stayed. Done something. Anything. And... And after I learned you ran off, I..."

He slowly shook his head. He turned away, staring out at the sunset. He looked back at Blake.

"I couldn't lose you too, Blake. I just... I couldn't. It was stupid but... I couldn't lose you."

Blake stepped closer, wrapping her arms around him. He leaned into her, one hand coming up to rest on her cheek. She tightened her grip around him.

She rested her chin on his shoulder. "It's okay,"… You don't always have to be strong. I'll be strong for you. I'm here. I'm not running anymore. I... I swear."

Jaune turned in her arms, pulling her close. His eyes glistened.

"I forgive you," he whispered. "And… thank you. For Pyrrha. She saved me. So I could save you."

Blake's tears fell silent as she held him tighter.

The chickens clucked on, oblivious.

The sun set slow and red over Radian.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Glimpses into Another Time: Cinder: The Farmhouse Visit

- - -

Radian, Vale

Six Years After Salem's Defeat

- - -

The little farmhouse looked beautiful under the late afternoon sun—white paint fresh, flower boxes blooming with wild roses, a swing creaking gently on the porch. Warm light spilled from the windows, and the faint sound of a lullaby drifted on the breeze.

Pyrrha Nikos stood at the end of the gravel path, Milo and Akuo left in the rental car because bringing weapons to this felt… wrong. With a strained smile she muttered to herself, "Because of course it would look like it came straight out of a fairytale ending."

It was so disgustingly perfect it made Pyrrha Nikos's stomach churn.

She sighed, shook her head, and walked up to the door.

Knocked.

The door opened almost immediately.

Cinder Fall stood there—exhausted, dark circles under her amber eyes, black hair tied back messily, very visibly pregnant. She wore a simple sundress that did nothing to hide the swell of her belly.

Pyrrha's breath caught.

Cinder rubbed her temple. "Ugh… Oh. Hello, Nikos. Come in… Just quietly? They're sleeping."

Pyrrha's practiced smile felt brittle, but she nodded. "Will do."

She stepped inside—the house smelled of fresh bread and baby powder. Photos lined the walls: Jaune and Cinder's wedding, smiling with teams RWBY and JNPR. Jaune holding newborn twins. Pyrrha in some of them—smiling, but always at the edge of the frame.

Cinder shuffled to the kitchen, moving with the careful waddle of late pregnancy. "Lemon, honey, bit of sugar…"

She still knew.

Pyrrha's throat tightened. "S-Sorry… I'm just surprised you remembered."

Cinder set the tea down with a tired huff. "I memorized it when I was plotting to kill you. Never went away, even after all this time." She managed a wry smile. "Huh. Funny, that."

Pyrrha took the cup carefully. "Yes. Funny."

Cinder slowly shook her head.

"I'm afraid Jaune's at the hospital for a class."

"Yes," Pyrrha said, sipping to buy time. "How unfortunate."

Cinder studied her over the rim of her own cup. "You're still so good at hiding your feelings… But I know better."

Pyrrha's grip tightened on the saucer. "Whatever do you mean?"

"You're still in love with my husband."

The words landed like a spear through the chest.

"I'm not-"

"Enough lies, Nikos," Cinder stated flatly.

Pyrrha's mask held—just barely. She took a deep breath.

"I never stopped loving him."

Cinder nodded slowly, unsurprised. "I know. Which is why you threw yourself into the fight so viciously. Why Jaune had to drag you back from trying to kill yourself a few times."

Pyrrha's jaw clenched.

"And why you told him," Cinder continued quietly. "Confessed to him."

Pyrrha's eyes flicked to the twins' playpen—Ashley and Ash sleeping peacefully behind cute pink bunny gates.

Cinder followed her gaze. "He told me you kissed him."

Pyrrha closed her eyes. She remembered—Vacuo burning, the battle for them all, his gentle rejection. "Not one of my brightest moments."

Cinder's voice softened. "He begged forgiveness." She sighed. "For a moment… I wanted to kill you. There are still days I'm glad you suffered."

Pyrrha's eyes opened, sharp.

"But it would hurt him," Cinder said. "And that would hurt me. And you saved his life. I can't hate you for that."

Pyrrha gave a brittle smile. "I didn't do it for you."

"I know." Cinder leaned forward. "You still live under a mask, Nikos. You can drop it with me. There's no need for it."

Pyrrha's fingers clenched. "This mask is the only thing protecting you right now."

Cinder's eyes narrowed. "That's bullshit. It's a polite fiction you tell yourself. Otherwise I'd already be dead."

She slapped the teacup out of Pyrrha's hand—shards clattering across the table.

"I'm going to make this very clear, Pyrrha Nikos," Cinder said, voice low and fierce, "because you're too stupid to figure it out. I don't hate you. And I don't want you to hate me. I don't… I don't want you to be unhappy."

Pyrrha raised an eyebrow. "You say that as if I'm not already."

Cinder's composure cracked—just a fraction. "You will not even meet me halfway, will you? You're so determined to make yourself miserable!"

Pyrrha's voice was calm, but steel lay beneath. "You say that as if you'd think that's a bad thing." She tilted her head. "Also, is that all you think I do?"

Cinder threw her hands up. "You're literally just your job!"

"And? What's your point?"

"You're not remotely happy! Are you insane?!"

Pyrrha shrugged. "Do I need to be happy with it? It keeps me calm."

Jaune's voice came from the doorway—tired, gentle. "Cinder? Sweetie… I know you mean well, but this isn't your area of expertise."

Cinder scowled. "How long—?"

"The entire time."

Pyrrha blushed, looking away. "Figures that was you."

Cinder glared between them. "She's being ridiculous!"

Jaune moved to her side, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Cinder… not helping."

The twins burbled in their sleep.

"I just..." Cinder shook her head. "I have experience with people who make themselves miserable. Horrible experience... And I just want you to stop! Before you snap!"

Pyrrha rolled her eyes at Cinder. "Please. I'm not that powerful. Nor that petty."

Jaune murmured, "Pyrrha… you murdered five men with a flick of your wrist once."

Pyrrha massaged her temple. "Yes, Jaune, I remember. I was there. It wasn't the first time, and I doubt it'll be the last."

Jaune sighed. "Cinder, would you give us some—?"

"No!" Cinder snapped. "Damnit, I'm trying here!"

Pyrrha cracked a faint smile. "For what it's worth, she really is. Even I can recognize that."

Jaune nodded. "I know."

Cinder's voice broke. "I even watched that stupid pony show about friendship…!"

Jaune pulled her into a hug. "Cinder…"

Pyrrha waited patiently as Jaune comforted his wife, the twins stirring softly.

Curiosity won. "Which generation?"

Cinder sniffled. "Fourth! The others all suck!"

Pyrrha smiled fondly. "You're not wrong." She shook her head. "Did you know my mom voiced one of the characters?"

"YES!"

Pyrrha chuckled. "One of the few roles I actually enjoyed watching her play. She almost didn't get it."

Cinder peeked up, interested despite herself. "O-Oh?"

Pyrrha's smile turned nostalgic. "She'd always tell me it was because the studio thought she was too good for the role. Truth was, she couldn't stop ad-libbing her lines."

Cinder managed a watery laugh. "I… I see…"

Jaune kissed Cinder's temple. "Go lie down. I'll watch them. Promise."

Cinder nuzzled him. "I love you…"

"I love you too."

She shuffled off, leaving Jaune and Pyrrha alone with the twins.

Jaune knelt to check on Ashley and Ash—smoothing blankets, smiling softly at their sleepy faces.

Pyrrha watched him, something aching and warm in her chest.

"How was class?" she asked.

"Good." Jaune tickled Ashley's belly, earning a sleepy gurgle. "Mom wanted me to get my doctorate already, but… I want to work for it."

Pyrrha's smile was fond. "You've never been one to take the easy path."

"No," he agreed. "I haven't."

He looked up at her—serious now.

"Pyrrha… I want you to stay in Radian for a while. I talked to the Alliance Commission—you've got more than enough leave saved up. Nora, Ren, Ruby—they've all been trying to make you take a vacation."

Pyrrha raised an eyebrow. "And you think Radian is the best place for that?"

Jaune lifted Ashley gently, offering her to Pyrrha. "I'm worried about you, Pyr. Is it wrong to want my partner to relax? Be happy?"

Pyrrha took the baby carefully—Ashley blinking up at her with curious amber eyes. "No. It's not wrong."

Jaune smiled. "Besides… I want my kids to know their best auntie ever."

Ashley blew a raspberry in Pyrrha's face.

Pyrrha laughed—soft, genuine. "You're lucky you're cute."

She settled Ashley in her lap, the weight of the child warm and real.

Jaune watched them—something soft in his eyes.

Pyrrha met his gaze. "I'll stay."

Just for a while.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

Radian, Vale

Fifteen Years After the Defeat of Salem

- - -

The Arc-Nikos farmhouse had a closet Pyrrha had always meant to organize.

It was one of those sprawling, walk-in affairs—built by Nick Arc himself back when the family kept growing and needed space for everything from winter coats to old tournament trophies. Pyrrha usually avoided it; too many memories stuffed between hangers and boxes.

But nine-year-old Xander Arc-Nikos—curious, red-haired, and already taller than his mother at that age—had no such reservations.

He'd been hunting for an old practice shield ("for science," he'd claimed) when he stumbled into the back corner.

And found the armor.

Not the practical bronze of Pyrrha's old tournament gear. Not the reinforced plate Jaune wore on missions.

No.

Xander emerged from the closet like a explorer returning from a forbidden ruin, arms full of gleaming metal that caught the afternoon light in very strategic places.

"Mom?" he called, voice pitched with innocent confusion. "Why do you have these full sets of armor in the closet? None of them seem to be for battle."

Pyrrha, in the kitchen stirring a pot of stew, froze. The wooden spoon slipped from her fingers with a clatter.

"And a lot of them are really skimpy…" Xander continued, holding up a particularly revealing piece—a corset-style breastplate with far more decoration than coverage. "Like… is this for swimming or something?"

Pyrrha's face went the color of her old sash.

"Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmm…"

Her mind catapulted back—ten years earlier, their honeymoon in a secluded Mistralian villa overlooking the sea. Jaune had been shy at first, but Pyrrha—ever the bold one in private—had suggested "a little roleplay" to celebrate their new life together.

Jaune had surprised her.

He'd emerged from the bedroom in a flowing white tunic trimmed with gold, hair tied back with a ribbon. Genderbent Jeanne D'Arc—the Maiden of Freedom from ancient tales, come to "liberate" the wicked Witch Queen of Argus.

Pyrrha, in dark silks, bikini armor, and a crown of black thorns, had played her part to the hilt.

"No!" she'd cried dramatically, backing against the bedpost. "You will never defeat me, Arc! You barbarian! I will crush you!"

Jaune—voice deepened theatrically, eyes twinkling with mischief—advanced. "Foolish evil Witch Queen! I will break you into my good little wife! You will forsake your evil gods and embrace the light!"

Pyrrha had gasped, hand to her forehead. "Nooooo~! No matter how manly or virile you are, you'll never break me~!"

Jaune's grin turned downright devilish. "Oh, we'll see about that, Witch Queen~!"

"OHHH MYYYY~!"

Back in the present, Pyrrha's blush could've signaled airships on approach.

Xander tilted his head. "Mom? You okay? Your face is really red."

Pyrrha snapped back, waving her hands frantically. "Oh! Um… we wore those for All Hallow's Eve! And costume parties! Yes! Lots of costume parties!"

Xander's eyes lit up. "Can I have armor for a party?!"

Pyrrha managed a strangled laugh. "When you're older…"

Much older.

Preferably never.

She'd burn the evidence first.

But as Xander scampered off—still clutching the suspiciously revealing outfit—Pyrrha buried her face in her hands.

Jaune was never going to let her live this down.

If he ever found out.

(Which, knowing her luck, he would.)

- - -