A/N: This will be the prologue for my first story Scorned of Beacon, a 'what if…?' of the eight scorn barons from Destiny 2: Forsaken being students of Beacon. I hope this will interest you guys and that you will continue to read my story when it comes out. I will update whenever I have time and inspiration, and with that said, I hope you enjoy!

P.S. Destiny 2 is owned by Bungie and RWBY is owned by Rooster Teeth ENJOY!


One does not generally complain when they are the heir of one of Atlas' wealthiest families. However, like in many other aspects, Fikrul, or as the public knew him, Frederick Kingsworth, was an anomaly. Fikrul used to enjoy his parents' seemingly endless wealth; able to have whatever he wanted. There was only one exception to this rule however, and it was an endless torture on his part.

He was never to show his faunus heritage.

Indeed, Fikrul, as well as his father, Craask, or Craig Kingsworth, the founder of the Kingsworth Weapons Company a.k.a. the KWC, were both spider faunus. While their native names were easily changed, Fikrul and his father were not able to easily conceal their physical features. They both had an extra pair of arms. If their faunus heritage was revealed to the rest of Atlas, it would tear down any good reputation the KWC had. Fikrul was more than willing to hide this part of him though, if it protected his family.

That was before his sixteenth birthday.

Before the incident

Before his mother tried to take his life.


Fikrul was ecstatic. Today was that he had waited for so long. After today, Fikrul would be able to finally be able to discuss plans for the KWC with business partners, allowing him to have his well-deserved say. His lower arms squirmed under his white dress shirt as he put on the coat of his suit, the black colour matching his dress pants and shoes. Fikrul left the tie out of his appearance, already feeling restricted with his arms. As he looked at his short pitch black hair and glowing blue eyes in the mirror, Fikrul remembered the countless hours of oral training he received, reciting key pointers in his head. The intercom buzzed, the booming voice of Craask coming through: "Frederick, come to my office once you've made yourself… presentable." The intercom cut off, and Fikrul set off to talk with his father.

The young heir exited into one of the massive halls of the Kingsworth Manor, and started the long walk towards his father's office. Frantic butlers and servants rushing around, preparing for the many guests that would be arriving that evening broke the usual quiet. Fikrul ducked and wove between them, making a beeline for the main office.

After several minutes, he finally arrived at the large, engraved doors, and he let himself in. While the exterior was dull, with the simple doors (if they can even be called that), the interior never ceased to amaze Fikrul. Safe to say, the colour gold was to the Kingsworth family as white is to the Schnees, and was the prominent colour of Craask's own suit. Craask looked much like his son, only he was taller, and his hair had started to gray, though his goatee held strong. However, this time was different, as Fikrul's eyes were on the dullest object in the room. A metal staff, with the largest uncut dust crystal in all of remnant at the tip, held in all four of Craask's arms. Seeing that Fikrul's undivided attention was on the staff, Craask playfully chastises his son. "It is rude to enter someone's office without even acknowledging them." Fikrul's head shot up at speeds one would think would have given him whiplash.

"Apologies, father, but… you do not usually have…" Fikrul gestured to the staff, attempting to find words he did not have.

"Of course," Craask answered with a chuckle. "While I do not usually keep this staff outside of the vault, I'd think it would be appropriate for our heir to wield it before the man who gifted it's main ornament to us."

Fikrul closed his eyes and nodded in understanding before his father's words clicked in his head. His eyes shot open and he lost any and all composure he had before, starting to sputter out words. "W-wait wait wait… you want me," Fikrul points to himself, and Craask nods, "to have your staff," Fikrul then points to Craask, who nods once again, "when I meet with the Jacques Schnee!"

"Yes," was Craask's reply.

"But… why?" Fikrul's question was justified. The Schnees gave the electric dust crystal to the Kingsworths as a sign of good faith for future business deals. According to the public, Craask fashioned a staff to hold the crystal so that he could have it with him at all times, but Fikrul, and few others, knew this wasn't the case. In fact, the seemingly pointless metal shaft was the KWC's greatest invention: a weapon capable of unifying the powers of aura and dust, giving the wielder the control of the dust's respective element without using any of the crystal, instead using the replenishable power of aura. Such a weapon couldn't be revealed though, for fear that the wrong people wold get their hands on it.

So it was a great surprise that Craask wanted Fikrul to have it in front have the man infamous for his controversial labour forces and questionable business partners.

"Yes son, I will not be able to attend your meeting tonight, and you are soon to inherit the company. Therefore, you are inheriting this as well." Craask holds the staff out to Fikrul, who took it with shaking arms. "Well, now that we've settled that, I must be off, but I wish you the best for tonight."

"Of course father, I only wish you could be here with me." Fikrul's reply was had a hint of sadness within it, but Craask was already gone before he finished.


*Later that night*

Now was the time.

Fikrul stood before the grand double doors, covered in ornate golden engravings, which would signal his entry into a new life, a life of choice and politics and business.

On the other side of the door waited Jacques Schnee and all the other elite of Atlas.

Making sure his extra appendages were well concealed and that he held the staff properly, Fikrul raised a hand to handle, prepared to embrace his destiny.

"Fredrick!"

The icy voice pierced the silence, and Fikrul visible winced. Of course, the last person he wanted to deal with would be here. Fikrul turned around to see his mother, Mara, approaching in a stunning ocean blue dress that hugged her curves, seeming to glow in the moonlight. That glow was different than the one that seemed to always emit from her porcelain skin and blue eyes. While Fikrul loved his father dearly, he despised his mother. Craask was a proud faunus, who risked everything to make his human persona and build his company so that he may help other faunus from the biggest source of discrimination. Meanwhile, Mara Sov was the daughter of a politician who died a few years prior to Fikrul's birth. She saw the quickly growing wealth and influence of the KWC and tried married into the family name purely for the power she would gain. Craask knew of this and initially denied her.

Until she threatened to reveal his faunus heritage to all of Atlas.

How she knew, Craask had no clue, but the threat of his secret was enough for Mara to get what she wanted.

So it was no surprise that when she reached him, her focus was on the staff he held in a white-knuckle grip.

"I'm appalled that you were going to meet with our future partners without me." Even with her heals, Mara was only up to the shoulder of her 5'8" son. Her voice would have sounded playful to anyone else, but Craask had trained Fikrul to see through the mask that his mother always held, as well as other useful things.

"Of course not mother," Fikrul ground out his answer. "Although, seeing as I'm the one inheriting the company, I thought that I would be able to attend to my guests without supervision." Fikrul did not hold back on his sarcasm, such was the norm as of later years.

"I see the company is not the only thing your father is giving to you."

"Indeed, now if you'll excuse, I have guests to welcome." Fikrul turned back to the doors opening both to reveal a large ballroom, packed with all of the evening's guests, with servants serving drinks on platters. All eyes went to the two who had just entered, seeming to wait for an invitation to continue. "Welcome, everyone, to the Kingsworth Manor."


The night had gone off without a hitch, and Fikrul had several conversations with many interesting potential partners and investors, and one with General Ironwood. However, as the night was reaching its end, and guests started leaving, Fikrul was approached by the man that he had anticipated for the whole day.

"Mister Kingsworth, it is good to see you tonight bearing my gift." Fikrul turned to address Jacques, arms fidgeting under his shirt. He wore his usual white suit with a blue undershirt. What surprised Fikrul were the two girls behind him, both he was familiar with. To Fikrul's left was Winter Schnee, first daughter of Jacques and a talented future huntress in training, starting at Atlas Academy next year. She was sixteen as well, and when they were younger, they used to play together in the large gardens of the manor. Fikrul would be lying if he said that he didn't crush on her back then, but knowing that she could never be with a faunus was enough to quench it. Until the next time he would see her. To Fikrul's right was Winter's little sister, Weiss Schnee, the new heir to the SDC. From what he remembered, Weiss was on the path of becoming both the heir for her family's company and a huntress. An impressive burden for a twelve year old girl.

"Indeed Mister Schnee, my father believed it would be good for me to inherit it with the company," Fikrul replied to Jacques' earlier statement, hoping his nervousness would not show, "and good evening to you Winter and Weiss." The sisters returned his greeting as they both nodded and smiled; Winter's seeming more genuine than Weiss'.

"I assume that tonight is quite… exciting for you, so I won't bother you with any business talk tonight, but tomorrow, I expect great ideas and decisions from you." The Schnee finished with a smile on his face, one that said he had plans for the KWC. "Well Winter, Weiss, feel free to socialise, but I don't believe there is much left of tonight." Jacques statement visibly shocked both sisters, for as far as Fikrul could remember, he never let them out of his sight when they went to events such as this. Before he could inquire further though, Jacques had already excused himself to talk with the few guests left.

"So… Frederick," Winter spoke up, Her silky voice slightly startling the young heir as he was still watching Jacques' retreating form, "its… been awhile." The awkwardness did not go unnoticed by Fikrul, Weiss scoffing before excusing herself saying something about going back to the bullhead with Klein. Fikrul, and Weiss it seemed, knew the source of Winter's awkwardness; she returned the feelings he held for her, making it twice as hard for him to attempt to suppress his own.

"Y-yes, a f-few months have passed since we last met." Fikrul couldn't believe he stuttered twice in front of Winter! He could feel his cheeks burning, his arms threatening to burst his shirt open from their shakiness. He was as hopeless as when he first discovered his feelings. No wonder Weiss left as soon as they started talking.

However, Winter smirked at his reply, returning quite smugly with "you mean 'a few months have passed since you kicked my butt in training.' Because I'm pretty sure that was how it turned out." Fikrul awkwardly laughed at her joke, knowing that he did indeed meet the floor quite a few times after they last sparred.

And yes, Fikrul did have combat training. Craask saw it as necessary to have his son able to wield a blade, as well as the staff he currently held.

"Yes, well… it is getting quite late, and there aren't many people left. I think I'll call it a night." Stupid stupid stupid. Fikrul didn't know how to continue the conversation, so he stupidly just finished it.

"O-oh, yes I suppose so, I doubt my father will want to stay any longer either." The hint of sadness on Winter's face tore Fikrul's heart apart, and he felt terrible. Winter was started to leave before he spoke up again.

"G-good night Winter."

She turned back to him and smiled with enough warmth to melt a whole Atlesian winter (somewhere, a certain blonde brawler sneezes).

"Good night, Frederick, and happy birthday," and then she was gone.


Jacques had finally gotten to have his private conversation with Mara. Not that he needed any, but he just wanted to be sure of their plans.

"Good evening Mara, you must be so proud of your boy." There were still people around them, so he had to start casually.

"Oh indeed, he's grown into such a lovely young man," Mara returned, knowing this dance all to well.

As Jacques saw that no one was paying attention after the pointless banter, he continued onto the more pressing matter. "Is your 'surprise' for him ready?" He knew the answer, but hearing her say it reassured him.

"Yes, a tragedy it will be," she says, feigning being distraught. "CEO of the largest weapons company in Atlas dies in an unavoidable accident during his travel, and his heir is assassinated by the White Fang, leaving the widow of the family to begrudgingly take up the head of the KWC." She finished her account of events to be with a smile on her face.

"And gains access to the most powerful weapon of war created," Jacques finishes for her, referring to the aura-dust weapon that Craask tried so hard to keep from them.

"Indeed, but, that is in my hands now. You should be going, lest suspicion arises."

Jacques bid his goodbyes then, and left find Winter and heading back to their bullhead, satisfied that plans were going ahead normally.


*Halls of Kingsworth Manor, late at night*

Fikrul was thoroughly exhausted after the last of the guests left. He attempted to leave prior to that, but his mother insisted that he should see everyone off. But as he was returning to his room, he heard a noise behind him. He did not falter in his pace as to not give whatever it was that he knew was behind him any idea that he was aware of them. This was a scenario that his father had trained him for, if anyone is following you, lure them into a favourable position. As Fikrul kept walking, he saw a corner that would be a perfect place to ambush this person.

Fikrul went to turn the corner, a smirk on his face, but as he fully entered the new corridor, the man behind him yelled, "WAIT!" But it was too late, and the last thing Fikrul saw before everything went dark was gun pointed to his head.


A/N: Now that is part one of Fikrul done, and I can't wait to write about the other barons. As a side note, this story is just meant to talk about the barons prior to joining Beacon and how they all meet, because obviously Fikrul has no idea about them yet. (P.S. mid way through writing this A/N I realised that some of you may not know what the proper names of the barons are, so I'll say them here: Fikrul=Fanatic, Elykris=Machinist, Reksis Vahn=Hangman, Hiraks=Mindbender, Pirrha=Rifleman, Araskes=Trickster, Kaniks=Mad Bomber and Yaviks=Rider sry justwanted to make sure everyone was on same page.) Here are a few plot points for the story: For starters, this takes place five years before the events of RWBY volume 1, and I hinted at that with Weiss' age. Secondly, I want to explain how the barons are related: they are all half-siblings, with Elykris and Reksis being twins, as well as Araskes and Kaniks. They are all the children of Craask (who I named after the revealed kell of kings), and this will be touched on next chapter. Also, the staff in the story is my way of explaining Fikrul's weapon into the story, and it looks just like that. Anyway, I think I've ranted here enough, but I'll put more info in the next A/N, but until then, see ya!