Chapter 4 of 5. Almost done. This one's more dramatic than previous chapters, but it's temporary. Just these two finishing up all the loose ends before everything is done.
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Jaune'd seen a lot of weird shit in his life. Hell, just in the past few weeks he'd time traveled, captured international terrorists, and convinced a centuries-old wizard that he wasn't completely insane. But standing in the vault beneath Beacon Academy, watching a machine literally suck magical powers out of one unconscious woman and pump them into another, definitely ranked up there in the "what the fuck is my life" category.
The Aura transfer machine whirred and hummed, looking like something out of a mad scientist's laboratory crossed with Atlas military tech. Which, knowing Ozpin and Ironwood, was probably exactly what it was. Cinder lay unconscious in one containment pod, her face peaceful in a way that really pissed him off considering all the people she'd murdered. Or would murder. Time travel grammar was still giving him headaches.
In the other pod, Amber - the real Fall Maiden, the woman whose power Cinder had stolen - lay still as death. She'd been like that for months, from what they heard from the rest of the group. Seeing her now, pale and motionless behind the glass, brought back memories of when Weiss was impaled by Cinder's spear back in Haven. The rage that bubbled up in his chest was almost as strong as it'd been back then. Would've been back then. Fuck it, whatever.
"The transfer appears to be proceeding smoothly," Ozpin observed, his voice carrying that calm, measured tone that made it sound like they were discussing the weather instead of magical power redistribution. The old wizard - and Brothers, it was still weird thinking of his headmaster as an actual ancient wizard evena after all these years - stood with his hands folded over his cane, watching the process with clinical interest.
Ironwood nodded, his mechanical hand tapping against his arm in what Jaune learned was the General's version of nervous fidgeting, "All readings are within acceptable parameters. The power transfer should be complete within minutes."
Jaune glanced sideways at Weiss, who stood beside him with perfect posture, hands clasped behind her back. Even in the weird blue-green light of the vault, she looked stunning. The way the light caught her white hair, making it almost glow... the way her fitted Atlas-style jacket hugged her curves just right... the delicate line of her neck as she tilted her head to watch the machine work...
'Stop it, Arc,' he told himself firmly, 'You're divorced. Very, verydivorced. Because she's crazy and accused Ruby of being a homewrecker. She literally called your dick disappointing in front of an entire combat class.'
Which was a complete lie, by the way. Weiss'd never complained about that particular aspect of their relationship. If anything, she'd been VERY enthusiastic about- 'Nope. Not going there.'
"How much longer?" Qrow asked, taking a swig from his flask. The guy had been hitting the bottle harder than usual since their little chat about his sister yesterday. Not that Jaune could blame him. Finding out your sibling was about to be hunted down like the animal she was would drive anyone to hit the bottle.
"Not long now," Glynda replied, adjusting her glasses as she studied the readouts, "The power transfer is nearly-" The machine's humming stopped with a sharp click. For a moment, everything was silent except for the faint background noise of Beacon's ventilation systems and Qrow's nervous sipping.
Then Amber's eyes snapped open.
They weren't the soft brown they looked like in the picture Ozpin showed them. Amber's eyes blazed with orange fire, literally flickering with flames that danced in her irises like tiny campfires. Her gaze swept the vault, taking in the gathered group, before landing on the containment pod where Cinder lay unconscious.
And then she went absolutely fucking berserk.
Amber's fist slammed into the reinforced glass door of her containment unit with a sound like a gunshot. The supposedly unbreakable barrier - the same stuff they used in Atlas military facilities, according to Ironwood - spider-webbed instantly. Her second punch shattered it completely, sending chunks of reinforced glass flying across the vault like bullets.
"Holy shit-" Jaune started, but his words were cut off as Amber's bare foot connected with what remained of the door, sending the whole thing sailing directly toward their group, "Look out!" he shouted, tackling Weiss to the ground. They hit the metal floor hard, Jaune's body covering hers as the glass sailed over their heads and embedded itself in the wall behind them with a resounding crash.
For a split second, he was acutely aware of every point where their bodies touched. The softness of her curves beneath him, the way her hair smelled like winter roses and expensive shampoo, the way her breath hitched when he looked down at her-
"Get off me, you oaf!" Weiss snapped, shoving at his chest. Right. Divorced. Very much divorced.
Jaune rolled to the side just in time to see Amber tear Cinder's containment pod open with her bare hands, the reinforced glass crumpling like tissue paper under her grip. The Fall Maiden's power blazed around her like a living being, orange flames dancing along her skin without burning her.
Cinder's eyes fluttered open just as Amber grabbed her by the throat and hauled her out of the pod, "You," Amber snarled, her voice echoing with the power of the Maiden abilities she'd reclaimed, "You fucking bitch. You shot me in the back. You stole my power. You put me in a goddamn coma for months."
Cinder tried to say something - probably some sarcastic quip or villain monologue - but Amber cut her off by slamming her into the floor hard enough to crack the metal. The sound of impact echoed through the vault like a gunshot.
"Oh dear," Ozpin murmured, sounding about as concerned as someone commenting on a light drizzle, "Perhaps we should - "
"MONTHS!" Amber screamed, lifting Cinder up only to slam her down again, "I MISSED MONTHS OF MY LIFE BECAUSE OF YOU!"
Jaune looked around at the group. Ironwood and Glynda had taken cover behind some equipment, looking like they were debating whether to intervene. Qrow had his flask raised halfway to his lips, frozen in place as he watched the beatdown with wide eyes. Ozpin just stood there, occasionally wincing when Amber's impacts got particularly violent.
"Should we... do something?" Glynda asked hesitantly, her riding crop raised but not actually moving to stop anything, "Maybe we need Cinder alive for interrogation?" she added, though she didn't sound particularly convinced.
Weiss, who picked herself up and was brushing dust off her jacket with typical Schnee dignity (read: snobbery), snorted, "Jaune and I already know everything Cinder does," she said coolly, not even flinching as Amber punched Cinder so hard the woman bounced off the floor, "Let Amber have her revenge."
And honestly? Jaune was totally on board with that plan. Watching Cinder get the shit kicked out of her was really therapeutic. This was the woman who'd killed Pyrrha, orchestrated the Fall of Beacon, and helped Salem destroy Atlas and murder millions of people. If anyone deserved to get their ass thoroughly kicked, it was her. Only Salem deserved worse, and she was made immortal by those two godly assholes.
"Rip and tear!" Jaune called out helpfully, "Wait, no, that's not right. Burn and... uh... sear?"
Weiss gave him a look that suggested she was reconsidering their divorce for entirely different reasons, "You're an idiot."
"Hey, I'm trying to be supportive!"
Amber apparently heard him because she shot him a quick thumbs up before grabbing Cinder by the ankle and using her as a wrecking ball against the nearest wall. The satisfying crunch of impact was music to Jaune's ears, "This is..." Ironwood began, then trailed off as Amber lifted Cinder over her head and threw her across the vault, "Well... I suppose justice comes in many forms."
"She's definitely got a fire in her. More ways than one," Qrow said, finally lowering his flask, "Reminds me of Yang when someone messes with her hair."
"Speaking of Yang," Weiss said, absently tucking a strand of white hair behind her ear in a gesture that made Jaune's heart do stupid things in his chest, "We should probably warn her that her mother is our next target. She might have... feelings about that."
'Focus, Arc. Very important conversation happening. Stop staring at your ex-wife's neck.'
"Yeah, that's gonna be a fun conversation," Jaune said, forcing himself to look away from the elegant curve of Weiss's throat, "Hey Yang, remember your mom who abandoned you? Well, turns out she's a magical terrorist and we're gonna capture or kill her. Hope that's cool."
"You have such a way with words," Weiss said dryly.
"Perhaps that conversation can wait until after Ms. Branwen has been captured? Knowing Ms. Xiao Long, she will insist on being present for the operation, which could complicate things."
"Hm...point." Jaune nodded.
Their talk was interrupted by a sound like a blowtorch firing up. They turned to see Amber standing over what remained of Cinder Fall; which was basically just a pile of ash and some slightly melted metal from her outfit. The Fall Maiden's hands were wreathed in flames, and she was breathing hard from exertion. Jaune felt a sudden burst of irritiation. He missed it!
For a moment, the vault was dead silent except for the crackling of dying flames.
Then Amber turned to face them with a bright, friendly smile that was completely at odds with the fact that she'd just incinerated a person, "Sorry about all that!" she said cheerfully, dusting ash off her hands like she'd just finished gardening instead of committing a (very well deserved) execution, "Weird first impression, huh? I'm not usually that, you know, kill happy. I'm Amber, by the way. Fall Maiden. Thanks for getting my powers back!"
The whiplash from her tone was incredible. One second she was channeling the Grimm Slayer, the next she sounded like she was introducing herself at a PTA meeting.
"Uh," Jaune said intelligently, "You're... welcome?"
"No problem at all, Ms. Amber," Ozpin said, apparently deciding to roll with it, "You know us all already, of course, but these are two of our students, Weiss Schnee and Jaune Arc."
"Nice to meet you both!" Amber said brightly, "So, what's the plan? I assume we're going after the rest of Salem's people? Because I have some very strong feelings about that whole situation."
Jaune looked at the pile of ash that used to be one of Salem's most dangerous agents, then back at Amber's sunny smile, "Yeah," he said slowly, "I think you're gonna fit right in."
Weiss made a small sound that might have been amusement, and when Jaune glanced at her, she was trying to hide a smile behind her hand. For just a moment, she looked like the girl he'd fallen in love with all those years ago - mischievous, sharp, brilliant and beautiful.
Then she caught him looking and her expression went carefully neutral again, reminding him that whatever they'd had was in the past. In a timeline that might never happen now.
'Right. Divorced. Focus on the mission, Arc.'
Weiss sat in the passenger compartment of the Atlas military transport, her posture impeccable despite the turbulence as they flew toward the Anima wilderness. Through the reinforced windows, she could see the sprawling forests below, broken occasionally by cleared settlements or the scars of old Grimm attacks. Somewhere down there, Raven Branwen's bandit camp awaited - a collection of murderers and thieves led by a woman who had stolen power that was never meant to be hers.
The plan was sound. Weiss had spent considerable time ensuring every contingency was accounted for, drawing upon both her own tactical knowledge and the SDC's extensive intelligence network. The Atlesian military had provided satellite reconnaissance, and her own sources had confirmed the camp's location through careful observation of unusual weather patterns. Raven Branwen, for all her claims to cunning, had never learned subtlety when it came to displaying her stolen abilities.
The strategy was elegant in its simplicity and brutal in its efficiency. First, they would bombard the bandit camp with mortar fire, eliminating the bulk of Raven's followers before they could mount any meaningful resistance. Weiss felt no qualms about this particular aspect of the plan. These were not innocent civilians, but murderers and slavers who had chosen to follow a woman whose hands were stained with the blood of thousands. They had made their choice; now they would face the consequences.
Second, and most crucially, they had placed Taiyang Xiao Long, Qrow Branwen, and Yang Xiao Long in specially designed reinforced cells aboard their command ship. When Raven inevitably attempted to use her portal Semblance to escape - and she would, because beneath all her bluster and threats, she was fundamentally a coward - she would find herself trapped. The cells would then be flooded with a harmless sleeping gas, incapacitating all occupants without permanent harm.
Yang had been... less than pleased when they'd informed her of this necessity three days prior. Weiss could still recall the blonde fireband's expression shifting from confusion to anger to reluctant understanding as they'd explained the situation. Learning that one's absent mother was not merely a deadbeat parent but an active threat to innocent lives had clearly been difficult for her to process. Some part of her still hoped that her egg donor had a good reason for leaving.
"So let me get this straight," Yang had said, her lilac eyes flashing with suppressed emotion, "My "mom" isn't just some selfish bitch who abandoned her family. She's a mass-murdering bandit queen with magical powers who needs to be stopped before she kills more people."
"That is... an accurate if simplified assessment," Weiss had replied carefully.
Yang had been silent for a long moment, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. Then she'd straightened, that familiar determined set to her jaw asserting itself, "Fine. But I want answers when this is over. Real answers about why she left, what she's been doing, all of it."
Weiss had assured her that they would capture Raven alive if possible, though she'd been careful not to promise anything beyond that. Some questions, she suspected, would never have satisfactory answers.
The alterations in team placements meant that Yang and Blake were no longer part of their immediate circle. The thought brought an unexpected pang of loneliness to Weiss's chest. In the original timeline, Team RWBY had become more than just teammates. They'd been sisters in all but blood, bound together by shared trials and genuine affection. Now, while she could interact with Yang and Blake as friends, it wasn't quite the same. There was a distance there, a formality that hadn't existed when they'd shared a dorm room and countless late-night conversations.
But that could be remedied later, she told herself firmly. With Adam Taurus dead and Raven soon to be stripped of her stolen power, many of the fundamental obstacles to rebuilding those relationships would be removed. Blake would no longer carry the burden of her association with the White Fang's violence, and Yang would be free from the shadow of maternal abandonment that had shaped so much of her personality.
The third element of their strategy provided additional reassurance. They had secured backup in the form of Marrow Amin, who while not yet a Specialist, possessed a fully realized Semblance that would prove critical to their success. His ability to freeze targets in place would be invaluable in preventing Raven from escaping through conventional means before she could activate her portal Semblance. The young man's enthusiasm for the mission had been almost infectious, his tail literally wagging with excitement, though Weiss suspected it had more to do with the opportunity being given by General Ironwood himself than any personal vendetta against Raven Branwen.
More significantly, Amber had agreed to aid them in the operation. The Fall Maiden's motivations were twofold: gratitude for the restoration of her stolen power, and a genuine understanding that someone like Raven Branwen had no right to wield abilities meant to protect and preserve life. Amber's presence would ensure that even if Raven managed to access her Maiden powers during the confrontation, they would not be fighting at a disadvantage.
Weiss' only source of annoyance in an otherwise perfectly orchestrated operation was Amber's behavior toward Jaune. She understood, intellectually, that the woman would naturally feel grateful toward the people who had saved her life and restored her stolen power. Gratitude was a reasonable and expected response to such circumstances.
What was less reasonable (and frankly unprofessional) was the way Amber had taken to obviously, though admittedly subtly, flirting with him. The lingering touches when passing him equipment. The way she laughed just a little too enthusiastically at his admittedly mediocre attempts at humor. The manner in which she found excuses to seek his opinion on tactical matters, despite the fact that strategy had never been his strong suit (despite Pyrrha's claims otherwise).
It was tiresome, really. And concerning, though not for the reasons one might assume. Weiss's objections were purely practical in nature. She simply disliked the idea of Jaune taking advantage of Amber's gratitude and vulnerability, only to inevitably betray that trust later when his attention wandered to someone else. It was a pattern she had observed firsthand, after all. Despite her role, Amber was only 19. Still too young to have her heart broken.
The thought of another woman falling victim to Jaune's particular brand of oblivious charm, only to discover too late that his loyalty was as fleeting as morning frost, was genuinely troubling. Amber deserved better than to become another casualty of Jaune Arc's inability to maintain meaningful relationships.
Yes, that was precisely why the situation bothered her. Concern for Amber's wellbeing, nothing more. Certainly not jealousy - such an emotion would be both irrational and beneath her dignity. She was simply being practical, looking out for someone who had already suffered enough at the hands of people who had taken advantage of her trust.
The fact that watching Amber smile at Jaune made something twist unpleasantly in her chest was merely a coincidence. Stress from the upcoming operation, nothing more. Weiss straightened in her seat, smoothing invisible wrinkles from her combat attire as she forced her attention back to the mission parameters. There would be time for such considerations later. For now, she had a mass murderer to capture and Maiden powers to confiscate.
Everything else could wait.
The bandit camp sprawled across a clearing in the Anima wilderness like a festering wound, crude tents and ramshackle structures arranged in haphazard clusters around a central fire pit. Weiss observed it through her binoculars from their concealed position on the ridge above, cataloging defensive positions and escape routes with the methodical precision her father had drilled into her during SDC security briefings. Not that he'd ever intended for her to use such knowledge in actual combat, but life had a way of making even the most distasteful lessons useful.
The plan was proceeding flawlessly. Winter would be simultaneously capturing Leonardo Lionheart and securing Haven's CCT tower to prevent Arthur Watts from interfering - assuming the traitorous headmaster hadn't already compromised their communications. Her sister had taken a carefully selected team of Atlesian Specialists for that operation, leaving Weiss to handle the more direct approach with their assembled strike force.
Beside her, Jaune adjusted his armor straps with practiced efficiency, the familiar ritual of pre-combat preparation that she'd witnessed countless times during their marriage. To his left, Amber stretched her arms above her head, orange flames dancing along her fingertips in anticipation. Marrow crouched nearby, his tactical vest loaded with Dust cartridges and specialized restraint equipment, while the three Valean Huntsmen they'd recruited completed their own final checks.
They hadn't risked involving any Mistrali Huntsmen; too much chance that Lionheart would be tipped off to their activities. Better to work with known quantities than risk their carefully laid plans being compromised by a network riddled with Salem's influence.
"Remember," Weiss said quietly, her voice carrying just far enough to reach their assembled team, "we need Raven alive. Everything else is secondary." They all nodded.
It was time.
The attack began with surgical precision. Weiss had orchestrated similar operations during her time as co-CEO before Beacon, coordinating SDC security forces against Grimm incursions and bandit raids that threatened company assets. This was merely a larger scale version of those exercises, with considerably higher stakes and a more personal investment in the outcome.
The mortar barrage struck the camp's perimeter first, Atlas-manufactured shells detonating in precise patterns that eliminated sentries and created chaos among the ranks of common bandits. Screams echoed across the clearing as crude fortifications were reduced to splinters and burning debris. The sight of the bandits screaming and burning brought a grim smile across her face. It was justice long overdue for the crimes they'd committed.
As the bombardment ceased, their strike team descended into the chaos with lethal efficiency.
The fight that followed was nothing short of a slaughter.
Surprise, surprise. Bullying thugs and murderers who spent their lives sacking defenseless towns while calling themselves strong stood absolutely no chance against experienced Huntsmen and a Maiden. Weiss cut through the bandit rabble like a heated blade through butter, her rapier finding gaps in improvised armor with surgical precision. Sometimes the comparison was literal, as her fire Dust cartridges left cauterized wounds in their wake, leaving the cooling bodies look oddly bloodless despite their grievous wounds.
She had to admit (though the acknowledgment left a bitter taste in her mouth) that she and Jaune worked together in perfect tandem. As... difficult as their relationship had become, years of training and partnership didn't simply evaporate. What weakness one possessed, the other instinctively covered. Where her rapier work excelled at precision strikes and crowd control, his shield and sword provided the raw stopping power needed to break enemy formations. It was a disgustingly efficient pairing, honed through countless missions and sparring sessions during their time as husband and wife.
Watching him flow seamlessly from defensive positioning to aggressive assault, she was reminded why they'd been so effective as partners before their personal relationship had complicated everything. His combat instincts remained as sharp as ever, reading the battlefield with the same intuitive understanding that had once made their teamwork legendary among their peers.
She particularly enjoyed taking down that bitch - ahem, vagabond- Vernal.
In the original timeline, Weiss had been obsessed with her newly summoning ability during their encounter, repeatedly calling forth incomplete manifestations while leaving herself vulnerable to counterattack. It had been a rookie mistake born of excitement over her expanded capabilities, and Vernal had capitalized on it ruthlessly. She, the heiress to the Schnee dynasty, had been brought low by a common bandit due to her eagerness play summoner.
Not this time.
As the tan woman charged forward with her twin chakrams spinning, Weiss activated her time dilation glyph with perfect timing. The world around her slowed to a crawl, Vernal's aggressive advance becoming a ponderous ballet of telegraphed movements. Weiss sidestepped the clumsy assault with contemptuous ease before she started a barrage of attacks, attacking her easily over a dozen times before the wretch could even react. She finished it off by using a glyph to propel herself downward from the air and slashing Vernal with enough force to leave a crater, which shattered her Aura.
"Eat it, Jaune," she murmured with satisfaction, remembering his smug commentary about her "showboating" during combat practice.
The glorified thug lay heaving on the ground, alive but thoroughly incapacitated. She would probably regret that mercy - Mistrali prisons were notably harsh in their treatment of bandits.
The regular bandits fell with pathetic ease, their crude weapons and lack of formal training making them little more than obstacles to be cleared. Amber moved through their ranks like an avatar of destruction, her restored Maiden powers manifesting as torrents of flame that reduced entire groups to ash. The Valean Huntsmen provided excellent support, their professional competence a stark contrast to the amateur thuggery they faced.
Marrow's contribution proved particularly valuable. His "Stay" Semblance locked down enemy movement at crucial moments, allowing the rest of the team to capitalize on openings that would have otherwise required significantly more effort to create. Jaune's Aura amplification had enhanced the young Faunus' range considerably, extending his area of effect to cover multiple targets simultaneously.
Then Raven Branwen herself finally made her appearance.
She descended from above like an angry goddess, her black hair whipping in the wind generated by her own Maiden powers. Lightning crackled around her form as she hovered twenty feet above the battlefield, red eyes blazing with supernatural fire. For a moment, she was genuinely imposing - a figure of terrible beauty wielding forces that could reshape the landscape.
"You dare attack my people?" she snarled, her voice carrying across the clearing with unnatural amplification.
Taking her down was almost disappointingly simple.
"Marrow, now!" Weiss shouted.
The young Huntsman stepped forward, his enhanced Aura flaring as Jaune's amplification took effect, "Stay!" he shouted, snapping his fingers and pointing at Raven.
Raven froze mid-gesture, her body locking in place as if she'd been transformed into a statue. The expression of shock on her face was almost comical - clearly, she hadn't expected to encounter a Semblance capable of affecting someone of her power level. Raven Branwen - the Spring Maiden, the Terror of Anima, the killer of thousands - fell like a stone and faceplanted into the blood-soaked dirt.
"I can only hold her for a few seconds!" Marrow called out, strain evident in his voice despite the amplification.
Weiss immediately summoned three Arma Gigas knights, their spectral forms materializing around Raven's paralyzed figure with car-sized swords raised. The massive blades descended in perfect synchronization, hammering into the bandit queen with enough force to crater the ground beneath her when she finally fell. Then they lifted up and slammed down again, and again, and again. Maidens had high Aura reserves. She could take it.
Amber followed up with a fireball the size of a small building, the massive sphere of concentrated flame engulfing Raven's position entirely. The heat was so intense that Weiss felt her summoned knights beginning to waver. Only her doubled Aura reserves allowed her to maintain their cohesion against such overwhelming force.
Meanwhile, Jaune continued mopping up the remaining bandits while keeping Marrow protected from potential counterattacks. His shield work was flawless, deflecting desperate strikes from the few enemies still capable of fighting while his sword found their weak points with mechanical precision.
Raven didn't even get the chance to attempt her portal escape - as satisfying as seeing her trapped in one of their prepared cells might have been. By the time Marrow's Semblance wore off and she regained mobility, her Aura had been completely depleted by their concentrated assault. She lay on the ground in a crumpled heap, smoke rising from her singed clothing and various cuts bleeding freely from where the Arma Gigas had found their mark. Dotted across her body were burns of various degrees.
Weiss approached the fallen woman with her rapier still drawn, noting the way Raven's chest rose and fell in irregular gasps. Alive, as required, but thoroughly defeated. The Spring Maiden's red eyes tracked Weiss's movement with unmistakable hatred, though she lacked the strength to do anything about it.
"Quite the fall from grace," Weiss observed, her voice carrying the same cool disdain she'd once reserved for particularly incompetent board members, "From Huntress to bandit queen to prisoner. Really, the trajectory of your life has been thoroughly predictable."
Raven tried to speak - probably some defiant threat or declaration about her tribe's resilience - but only managed a pained wheeze. The combination of physical trauma and Aura depletion had left her barely conscious.
"Sedatives," Weiss called to their medical specialist, one of the Valean Huntsmen who'd proven remarkably competent throughout the operation, "Full dose. We can't risk her regaining enough strength to activate her Semblance."
The injection took effect within moments, Raven's already glazed eyes sliding shut as the powerful tranquilizers flooded her system. They would keep her unconscious during transport and the subsequent power transfer procedure. No sense in allowing her any opportunity to cause further complications.
Weiss surveyed the aftermath of their operation with professional satisfaction. The bandit camp was thoroughly destroyed, its crude structures reduced to burning debris and scattered corpses. The few survivors - perhaps a dozen bandits who had surrendered rather than fight to the death - were secured with Atlesian restraints and would be transported back to face justice for their crimes. Which in Anima, likely meant harsh labor till their bodies broke.
A "tribe" of murderers erased from existence, and the Spring Maiden captured for proper disposition of her stolen power. The operation had taken less than an hour from initial assault to final cleanup.
Not a bad day's work, she reflected with grim satisfaction.
"Extraction point is secure," one of the Valean Huntsmen reported, his voice crackling through their communication system, "Transport is inbound for prisoner transfer."
Weiss nodded, watching as Amber knelt beside Raven's unconscious form with an expression of mixed satisfaction and disgust. The Fall Maiden had been remarkably professional throughout the operation, channeling her obvious distaste for power theft into tactical effectiveness rather than emotional outbursts, "She's...different than I expected," Amber said quietly, studying the Raven with curious eyes, "For someone who's caused so much suffering, she seems almost... ordinary."
"Monsters usually do," Jaune replied, approaching their group while wiping blood from his sword, "The scary ones are always the ones who look normal until they don't."
Weiss found herself nodding in agreement, remembering how Cinder had appeared to most of the world - a beautiful, charming young woman. Up until Ruby's Silver Eyes ensured that her looks matched her inner monstrosity.
Perhaps that was why she felt such satisfaction at seeing Raven reduced to this pathetic state. Another monster brought low, another threat neutralized before it could cause further harm. The world was marginally safer with the Spring Maiden's power about to be properly redistributed, just as it had been marginally safer when Cinder Fall was burn to ash.
Justice, she had learned, was rarely as dramatic as the stories suggested. Most of the time, it was simply a matter of applying the right pressure in the right place until something that needed to break finally did.
Today, that something had been the Branwen tribe's reign of terror across Anima. Tomorrow, it would be something else.
The familiar confines of Ozpin's office felt smaller somehow with the weight of their recent success pressing down upon them. Weiss sat with practiced poise in one of the chairs arranged before the headmaster's desk, her hands folded precisely in her lap as she observed the assembled group. The ornate clockwork mechanisms above continued their eternal dance, marking time with mechanical precision that she found oddly comforting after the chaos of combat.
Qrow slouched against the far wall, his flask conspicuously absent for once though his sullen expression suggested he was seriously reconsidering that decision. The capture of his sister had affected him more deeply than he cared to admit. Weiss could see it in the rigid set of his shoulders, the way his eyes refused to meet anyone else's gaze directly. Guilt, she suspected, mixed with relief and no small amount of self-loathing. Familial loyalty was an illogical thing, she knew that from experience.
General Ironwood stood at attention beside Glynda, his mechanical hand resting against his hip in a gesture that spoke of barely contained nervous energy. The successful operation had validated their tactical approach, but Weiss knew the man well enough to recognize that he was already calculating the next dozen moves in this increasingly complex game.
"There is, of course, the matter of who should inherit the Spring Maiden's power," Ozpin said, his fingers steepled beneath his chin as he regarded them with those ancient, knowing eyes, "I have compiled a preliminary list of possible candidates, including Ms. Nikos. Her strength of character is exemplary, and her combat skills would serve her well in such a role."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees as Weiss felt her expression harden into the mask of polite menace she'd perfected during board meetings with particularly obstinate shareholders, "Professor Ozpin," she said, her voice carrying the crystalline edge that had once reduced grown businessmen to stammering apologies, "If you so much as hint at the existence of the Maidens to Pyrrha, I will make you regret it in ways that your considerable experience has not yet prepared you for."
"What she said," Jaune added from his position beside her, his casual tone belying the steel in his blue eyes, "Pyrrha deserves better than being turned into a magical weapon because you think she'd make a good martyr."
Ozpin raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting to one of mild interest rather than intimidation. After countless lifetimes of facing down gods, monsters, and immortal sorceresses, a pair of time-traveling students - however formidable - apparently weren't enough to rattle him. Still, he hummed thoughtfully and inclined his head in apparent acquiescence.
"Very well. Then whom would you suggest for this responsibility?" His tone was skeptical yet curious.
Weiss straightened slightly, feeling the familiar surge of confidence that came with presenting a well-reasoned argument, "I'm the optimal choice," she said matter-of-factly, her tone carrying the same certainty she'd once used to announce quarterly profit projections to the SDC board.
The logic was unassailable, really. She possessed the combat training, the strategic acumen, and most importantly, the knowledge of what was truly at stake in the battles to come. More than that, she'd already been positioned for exactly this role ever since she woke up in her old childhood bedroom two years ago.
"I'll be by Ruby's side when she finally faces Salem in this timeline," Weiss said, her voice taking on the measured cadence of a prepared presentation, "Winter trained me extensively to inherit the Winter Maiden's power should she ever perish in our original timeline." Something that thankfully never came to pass. Winter was still alive when she'd turned 30, "The principles remain the same regardless of which specific Maiden abilities are involved."
She could see Jaune preparing to interject - probably some snarky comment about her (justified) self-confidence - and felt her jaw clench in anticipation of another pointless argument.
"Of course you'd nominate yourself," he said, right on schedule. Weiss was already drawing breath for a cutting retort when he continued, completely derailing her planned response, "But you're right. You're the best choice we have."
The admission caught her so completely off-guard that she actually blinked, her carefully constructed arguments dissolving into surprised silence. Jaune agreeing with her? Publicly supporting her candidacy without being coerced or manipulated into it? The world truly had been turned upside down by their temporal displacement.
The surprise must have shown on her face because Jaune's expression softened slightly, taking on that earnest quality that had once made her heart skip a beat before their relationship had soured into constant conflict, "Who else do we realistically have?" he said, gesturing toward the assembled group with one hand, "Glynda would be perfect - her telekinesis is probably stronger than Maiden magic, let's be real - but Ozpin made that weird rule about needing to be younger than thirty to inherit the powers."
"I was experiencing a prolonged period of depression and poor decision-making," Ozpin cut in with what might have been mild embarrassment, "You try maintaining rational thought processes while fighting an immortal ex-lover who wishes to destroy the world."
"You know what? Fair." Jaune nodded, "But the rule stands, right? So that means most of the experienced Huntresses are out."
Ironwood stepped forward, his expression resolute, "I would like to nominate Specialist Schnee," he said formally, "Winter has proven herself repeatedly in both combat and leadership roles. Her tactical expertise and moral character make her an excellent candidate."
Weiss felt a flicker of warmth at the General's confidence in her sister, but she shook her head firmly, "You've already positioned Winter as Fria's successor for the Winter Maiden powers," she said, "Besides, as much as I adore my sister, the person who wields this particular magic should be someone who knows the exact stakes we're facing. Someone who understands preciselywhat Salem is capable of and what methods will be required to stop her."
The unspoken implication hung in the air: that only she and Jaune possessed the comprehensive knowledge necessary to make the hard choices that lay ahead. Winter was many things: brilliant, capable, and utterly dedicated to doing what was right. But she hadn't lived through the apocalypse they were trying to prevent. She hadn't seen Atlas fall, hadn't watched millions die, hadn't been forced to make the soul-crushing decisions that would undoubtedly be required again before this was over.
"Ruby cannot be considered for this role," Weiss continued, addressing what she suspected was Ozpin's unspoken preference, "She needs to focus entirely on developing her Silver Eyes' abilities. Asking her to divide her attention between that and Maiden powers would be a recipe for disaster; she'd be spread too thin to excel at either. My role in this timeline is to support her, to ensure she has the space and protection necessary to become the weapon Salem fears most."
There was something deeply satisfying about having her purpose so clearly defined. In her original past/future, she'd often felt like she was flailing, trying to be useful in a conflict that seemed to revolve around powers and destinies beyond her understanding while utterly failing at it. This time, she knew exactly where she fit in the grand design.
Ruby would be the Silver-Eyed Warrior who could finally end Salem's reign of terror. Weiss would be the Maiden who ensured Ruby survived long enough to fulfill that destiny. It was elegant in its simplicity, and it played to both of their strengths.
The office fell silent except for the rhythmic ticking of Ozpin's elaborate timepieces. Glynda adjusted her glasses thoughtfully. Ironwood's mechanical hand tapped against his leg in a rapid staccato that suggested intensive calculation. Qrow continued to study the floor as if it held the secrets of the universe.
Finally, Ozpin sighed - a sound that carried the weight of centuries and countless difficult decisions.
"Perhaps you're both correct," he conceded, his voice heavy with resignation and what might have been relief at having the choice made for him, "Very well. Ms. Branwen will be prepared for the Aura transfer machine immediately. Let us proceed quickly, before she has any opportunity to escape or complicate matters further."
Weiss felt a surge of satisfaction that she was careful not to let show on her face. The Spring Maiden's power would soon be hers to wield, another tool in their arsenal against Salem's forces. More than that, it represented a form of justice - power stolen through murder and used for decades of terrorizing innocent people would finally be turned toward its proper purpose.
"Excellent," she said, "I assume the transfer procedure will be similar to what we used with Cinder and Amber?"
"Identical," Ozpin replied, "Ms. Branwen will be placed in the Aura transfer machine. Let us proceed quickly, before she has any chance to regain consciousness and attempt an escape."
As they began to file out of the office toward the vault levels, Weiss caught Jaune's eye. For a moment, something passed between them - not the bitter animosity that had characterized most of their recent interactions, but a flicker of the partnership that had once made them so effective together. They were going to save the world this time. All of it. And if that meant she had to become something more than human to do it, then so be it.
After all, Weiss had never been one to shy away from accepting the responsibilities that others feared to bear.
Days later, things had settled into something resembling normalcy. Or at least, as normal as life could be when one was a time-traveling student who happened to also be a Maiden with the memories of fighting an immortal witch. Salem was still out there, naturally, but with her primary pawns neutralized, Ozpin predicted she would retreat to reassess and rebuild her forces. It was one of her fundamental weaknesses, he'd explained. Open warfare would unite humanity against her, which was precisely why she preferred to work through proxies from the shadows.
They might have years before she made her next move. Which meant, somewhat surreally, going back to being students.
The transition felt bizarre. Yes, they were still making plans - Maria Calavera was already being sought out for Ruby's Silver Eyes training, and various other preparations continued in the background - but for the first time since their return to the past, they actually had breathing room. Time to attend classes, complete assignments, and pretend to be normal teenagers instead of battle-hardened veterans of an apocalyptic war.
Raven Branwen remained imprisoned in the vault beneath Beacon, stripped of her stolen power and awaiting whatever justice Ozpin's council would ultimately decide for her. Yang had visited her along with Taiyang and Qrow, a conversation that Weiss knew better than to ask about. When Yang had emerged from that meeting, she'd been both furious and relieved in equal measure, thanking Weiss and Jaune in a way that was both strained and sincere before making it clear the subject was closed.
Weiss respected that boundary. Some family conversations were too painful to share, even with friends. She knew that from experience.
Oh, and she was the Spring Maiden now. Such an odd thing to think about, even weeks after the power transfer. She could feel the magic humming beneath her skin like a second heartbeat, responding to her emotions and occasionally manifesting in small ways - frost patterns on her water glass when she was annoyed, or wind flowing gently in time with her footsteps when she was particularly pleased about something.
There were some side-effects, of course. Unlike with Amber and Cinder, she wasn't reclaiming a power that had been stolen from her. At times she saw flashes of Raven's memories. Not enough to be crippling or mistaken for her own, however. It was like...watching a movie, seeing her raids and monstrous actions but without the emotions behind them. An inconvenience at worst. She was already learning to bock them out.
Amber, who had been officially appointed as Professor Goodwitch's teaching assistant (a convenient cover for her continued presence at Beacon), had taken over Weiss' Maiden training. While she wasn't a fully realized Maiden like Fria had been, she still possessed considerably more experience with the powers than Weiss did. The sessions were productive, if occasionally frustrating when Weiss' perfectionist tendencies clashed with the inherently intuitive nature of Maiden magic. Maiden powers primarily came from emotion and instinct.
She genuinely liked Amber. For someone who woke up from a traumatic coma not too long ago, the Fall Maiden was surprisingly cheerful and friendly, approaching both her teaching duties and her recovery with admirable resilience. Her optimistic outlook was refreshing after months of dealing with apocalyptic scenarios and morally gray decisions.
The only thing Weiss didn't like was that Amber was still flirting with Jaune.
Again, it wasn't out of jealousy. She was a Schnee, and she wouldn't engage in such petty emotions over her ex-husband. It was simply a matter of professional concern. Jaune was clearlyexploiting Amber's gratitude for saving her life, taking advantage of her emotional vulnerability in a way that was both manipulative and potentially damaging to their operational security.
The man had a pattern, after all. He'd pursued Weiss relentlessly during their Beacon days despite her repeated rejections, then moved on to Pyrrha's obvious affections, and now apparently saw Amber as his next conquest. It was frankly disgusting how quickly he'd moved on from their divorce.
She ignored the voice at the back of her head telling her that it'd been over two years since they were sent back in time.
Her patience finally reached its breaking point during one of her training sessions with Amber in the designated private room. Weiss had been practicing weather manipulation - trying to create localized snow flurries without accidentally freezing the entire area - when Jaune had come over to observe. This had become an annoying habit of his recently, claiming he wanted to "understand how Maiden powers worked" but clearly just using it as an excuse to spend time near Amber.
"You're getting much better at the fine control," Amber said encouragingly, watching as Weiss managed to create a small blizzard contained within a ten-foot radius, "The key is not to fight the magic, but to guide it. Think of it like conducting an orchestra instead of wrestling a Beowolf."
"An apt metaphor," Weiss replied, allowing the snow to dissipate with a gesture, "Though I suspect my father would appreciate the wrestling comparison more. He always did prefer direct confrontation to subtle manipulation." Jacques Schnee was an admittedly brilliant schemer in his younger years, but with power came complacency. He'd gotten used to being the biggest fish in the pond and preferred to use the Schnee name as a bludgeon once he attained his position; something even his own family could attest to quite well. He thought himself above consequences.
It was what made outmaneuvering him doubly satisfying.
Amber laughed, a genuine, bright sound that Weiss might have found endearing if it hadn't been followed by the woman's gaze drifting toward Jaune with obvious interest, "Speaking of... um..." Amber began, a bashful expression crossing her features as she fidgeted with the hem of her blouse, "The Beacon dance is coming up soon, isn't it? The formal one?" Weiss felt her stomach drop like a stone. She knew exactly where this conversation was heading, and every fiber of her being rebelled against allowing it to continue, "Jaune, I was wondering if-"
"Jaune and I are going together," Weiss cut in smoothly, her voice carrying the absolute certainty she'd once used to shut down unwanted suitors at Atlas social functions. And she had a LOT of would-be prince charmings to practice on.
Jaune's head snapped toward her, blue eyes wide with confusion, "We are?"
Weiss turned to face him with a smile that was all teeth and no warmth, "Of course we are, darling," she said, putting just enough emphasis on the endearment to make it sound both intimate and slightly threatening. Her expression was sharp enough to cut glass.
Amber blinked, her expression shifting from hopeful to disappointed to resignedly understanding in the span of a few seconds, "Oh! I didn't know you two were... I mean, you always seemed so..." She gestured vaguely, clearly struggling to reconcile their constant bickering with romantic involvement.
"Passionate," Weiss said, still smiling, "We're very passionatepeople."
"Right," Amber said slowly, though she was already recovering with impressive grace, "Well, that's wonderful! I hope you both have a lovely time." She gathered her training materials with practiced efficiency, offering them both a genuinely warm smile that made Weiss feel like an absolute monster for her deception, "I should go prepare for my afternoon classes. Weiss, remember to practice the storm summoning we discussed. Start small - just a light rain - and work your way up."
As soon as Amber was out of earshot, Jaune rounded on Weiss with an expression of complete bewilderment, "What the hell was that about?" he demanded, crossing his arms over his chest, "Since when are we going to the dance together?"
Weiss pursed her lips, feeling defensive under his scrutiny, "Don't say anything," she said curtly, "I'm simply preventing you from getting your greedy claws into her. I know what you're like."
"What I'm like?" Jaune's voice rose in indignation, "What's thatsupposed to mean?"
"You know exactly what it means," Weiss retorted, though she was already beginning to feel slightly foolish about her impulsive declaration. Just slightly, though, "You have a pattern, Jaune Arc. First me, then Pyrrha would have been next if she hadn't..." She shook her head, almost tempted to bring up Ruby again before refusing to do so for reasons she couldn't explain, "And now Amber. You can't just keep collecting women like they're trading cards."
Jaune stared at her for a long moment, his expression cycling through confusion, hurt, and finally settling on something that looked suspiciously like amusement, "Are you... are you jealous?" he asked, and Weiss could hear the barely suppressed laughter in his voice.
"I am not jealous," she snapped, her cheeks flushing with what was certainly indignation and absolutely nothing else, "I am being practical. Someone needs to protect poor Amber from your..." She gestured vaguely at him, "Your whole... situation."
"My situation?"
"Your chronic inability to maintain appropriate professional boundaries!" Before Jaune could formulate what was undoubtedly going to be an insufferably smug response, Weiss spun on her heel and began marching toward the academy's exit, "Come on," she called over her shoulder, "We're going to town."
"Why?" Jaune asked, though he was already following her with the resigned air of someone who had learned not to question her when she was in full organizational mode.
"Because," she said with exaggerated patience, "Even if this date is completely fabricated, I am not going to be seen at a formal event with someone wearing the standard Beacon black suit. It's a matter of personal dignity." And definitely not someone wearing an ill-fitting dress. He couldn't even make it look good, despite Pyrrha's claims otherwise.
"It's a school dance, not a state dinner," Jaune complained, but he was still following her.
"The difference being what, exactly?" Weiss asked, perfectly manicured brow raised, "Public appearance is public appearance, Jaune. Standards exist for a reason."
As they made their way toward the airship platform, Jaune muttering under his breath about "impossible women" and "fake dates," Weiss allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction. Amber was safe from Jaune's questionable romantic judgment, the dance situation was handled, and she would have the opportunity to ensure her ex-husband didn't embarrass himself - and by extension, her - at a public event.
Really, it was a perfectly reasonable solution to a potentially problematic situation. The fact that she felt oddly pleased about having an excuse to spend an evening with Jaune was entirely irrelevant and certainly not worth examining too closely.
Drama over. Next chapter should be pure slice of life now that the leads have some serious breathing. Jaune and Weiss' "not a date" plus maybe adding in Amber and/or Ruby.
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