Hallo! I was thinking about the next volume, yesterday. I feel like Ironwood is going to be his usual antagonistic, vaguely evil self again, and that made me sad. I really Ironwood, and I can't really explain why. But this idea came to mind, so I started to write it about twelve hours ago. It's not particularly refined, but I still hope that you enjoy it.
By the way, I realize we don't know how old Ironwood and Jacques Schnee are, but for this story let's just say that Jacques is about ten years older than Ironwood. I thought about doing math and trying to come up with a likely age that they both are, but then I decided not to. What I'm saying is the math might not add up in this story, and I'm sorry if it doesn't.
That being said, I hope you enjoy.
This is a strictly fan based story. All rights go to Monty Oum and the team at Rooster Teeth.
"This is a dangerous game we are playing."
"This is no game at all. Beacon is still in ruins. Haven is without a headmaster. We could be next."
"I expect you to handle this, James."
Why had James Ironwood accepted the positions of headmaster and general?
When his father asked, he claimed it was for the glory.
He still maintained that his first memory was the day his father was named a hero of Atlas.
It was nine days of brutal attacks with no signs of rescue. His father was trapped in the middle of a war waged between human and beasts. The onslaught was never ending. Death lingered in the mines. Despair enveloped the soldiers. Which only brought more Grimm.
His father was one of three soldiers found alive when the airships landed. He was named a hero –given a medallion of recognition. He hung it on the mantle. His dignity lay out before their guests.
It was a constant reminder for James –a reminder that his father believed sheer willpower could conquer even the darkest of days.
When his students asked, he claimed it was to train the future of their military.
He was young when it happened –a new graduate of Atlas Academy, his first major mission. But they believed in him. He was his father's son.
The Schnee family had, had it all planned out. His soldiers would board privately without being seen. The White Fang would have no idea what was waiting for them. The weed would be plucked out before it had a chance to root.
For the first day and a half, they sat nearly bored in their carriage. No signs that the White Fang would attack a second time as they trekked across Atlas.
When the White Fang did attack, it seemed that even the military had underestimated them. He remembered little of that day –of the fight that changed his life, future.
Of the little he did remember, it was all soaked in blood. Blood of his enemies or allies, he could not say. Everything was drenched in a crimson sea.
How had he survived?
His father had decided it was willpower. His mother thought it was luck. The truth was the Schnee Dust Company. They were truly prepared. Almost as though they expected the military to lose, or perhaps just expected the White Fang to win.
When he gasped for air, cried out for his life, they had come to his aid.
When the council asked, he claimed it was because of his endless pride in their kingdom.
No one expected him to return to field assignments. No one expected him to even recover from that day.
It was his mother's magic that brought him back to life –at least a part of him.
As he came to in the hospital, he found himself completely alone. No smiling face there to tell him everything would be fine. Instead his body was pinned down, like butterfly to Styrofoam, but he could tell that something was missing.
The truth came in boxes. Nurses brought them into his room, unpacked them, and revealed his future self.
A gift, his mother called them.
With her gift, he recovered in an unusually short amount of time. He was back on his feet within days –fighting within weeks. And when he was released months later, he accepted his position back.
He stood at the front of the Atlesian military within years. He was the youngest person in history to be named general.
And with his position, he began it all. The machines his mother prided herself in building were designed, created, multiplied –all in the name of Atlas.
But when he gazed into the mirror, he could not lie. It was not glory nor pride nor even the future, but fear that had led him to the seat he now sat.
After all of that, how could he tell his father that his first memory was weeks before when the military arrived at their doorstep? They had told his mother not to hold onto hope. One of them had patted the top of his head, as though he didn't understand what was going on –as though he was just a kid and nothing more.
How could he turn his back on the company that saved his life? Even when Jacques Schnee made outlandish suggestions, he couldn't say no. He owed the family everything, and so he stood by them.
How could he send his soldiers –students– to their deaths? He watched year in and year out as young hopefuls led increasingly dangerous missions. When they did not return, he saw their families broken in devastation.
How could he lead a kingdom split in pieces?
The horrors of the past were written in stone. They came to him each night when he closed his eyes. He woke more often than not in a sea of cold sweat. He preferred to sleep sitting up, prepared for war at the drop of a pin.
How could he change the future? How could he stop their kingdom's fall?
He held the answer in his right hand.
"James? James? Are you listening?"
"What did you expect? I told you we shouldn't have come here."
A spat between a bird and his keeper.
Qrow paced back and forth as though his office were a cage. Ozpin, or rather his most recent husk, sat completely still in the chair provided.
"What is it you're saying? What do you want from me?" James asked, when he finally spoke.
"Now that's the Jimmy I know." Qrow stopped his continuous march to and fro. His usual smirk was spread out across his lips, one that he often showed James, but his eye betrayed him. James understood fear when he saw it.
Ozpin held up a hand, quieting Qrow. He interlocked his fingers, trying to come up with the best possible way to explain what he was going to ask for. When he finally came to a decision, he looked up to James.
"We need the relic," he said, straightforward.
"Why?"
"Is now the time to question?" Qrow asked, pulling out a container that held his poison of choice, no doubt.
"If not now, when? When Atlas Academy has been destroyed like Beacon? When countless hunters and huntresses have been slaughtered like in Mistral?"
"I believe," Ozpin cut in, "that the relics may be the answer –the only answer– in defeating Salem."
"I thought you said they couldn't be used against her?" James had inquired about the power of the relics from the first day he was brought in on the information.
"They can't, but–"
"But they are our only hope right now, right?" The blonde boy stood up from the couches the students were seated on. They had remained surprisingly silent throughout the conversation so far, but the boy looked as though he was going to burst with emotion if he didn't speak up. "I don't understand how these relics are going to help us, not really. I don't know if they will help us win this war. I don't even know what this war we are fighting is, but if they can help us defeat Salem, isn't that all that matters? So that we can stop the fighting –the death!"
"Even if you don't want to give us the relic, she will come for it. You have the opportunity to hand it to us peacefully, so that Atlas may remain intact. If Salem comes to Atlas, your kingdom's destiny is sealed."
Ozpin spoke the truth. He had, after all, seen countless of cities crumble at the hands of Salem and her allies. Her Grimm killed human and faunus alike –men, women, children they did not discriminate.
They would kill his students –those he had worked so hard to protect– without a second thought. So he had to have a second thought.
"The Winter Maiden is here. I suspected that you would ask for the relic. I will give you the relic," James said, a look of relief flashed through Ozpin's eyes, but only for a second. "But before I do, the children leave."
"What? No! We're staying here," Yang said. Her robotic arm was kept out in plain sight.
It was the council that had made the suggestion. It would be an offering, an apology, a chance to forward for them all. He had disagreed. How could they possibly know what it felt like to lose a part of them? The body could not be so easily replaced by machine. The past could not be so easily rewritten. But he still gave the order for them to make it. He sent it to Patch with a handwritten letter.
"We're not children," Weiss added.
She looked like her sister –mother. He had met each of the Schnee children before they had even lived a year. He had seen them each grow –develop into strong-willed beings, a force to be reckoned with. But he had also seen what power had done to the Schnee family. How it had broken them down, brought their family to the edge of ruin.
"I'm not the one requesting a favor," James put his foot down.
Ozpin let out a sigh, shaking his head, but he turned around to face his students. His disappointment in James's beliefs was apparent.
"Professor Ozpin," Ruby pleaded.
"Students," Ozpin said, raising his hand once more. "You have exceeded my every hope. I watch you grow as hunters and huntresses every day. And one day, there will be a war for you to fight, but there is no need to fight today. For now, you should rest."
Despite their looks of anger, each of the seven got up from the couches and walked towards the door that led out of the office. The last to leave was Weiss, her fists clenched in defiance.
"Where's the maiden?" Qrow asked, the second the students had left the room. His intrigue showed straight through.
James had done all he could to protect the name of the Winter Maiden. It was nearly impossible to talk Ozpin into keeping the information from his other informants, but James had sworn to protect the maiden himself if necessary. There were only four people in all of Remnant who knew the true identity of the Winter Maiden.
With the press of a button, a private entrance into his office slid open along his wall.
On the opposite side, Winter Schnee stood at attention. Qrow raised an eyebrow, as though he could not believe that Winter would be trusted with such power. But his shock dropped when she stepped behind James's desk, revealing the true Winter Maiden.
She stood in the doorway –unmoved. James could not tell if she was drunk or sober. Nowadays, it was difficult to say.
Her eyes had sunken deep into their sockets –dark patches were embedded below them. Her skin was pulled tight across her forehead but slack at the cheeks. She looked too small for the clothing she wore, and her right hand twitched uncontrollably.
When it first began, James thought it was age finally catching up with her. The wrinkles were beginning to crease her forehead. Her eyes were losing their bright gleam.
It wasn't until it as too late that he realized it was something else –something unnatural. The maiden's power had corrupted her body –spirit, soul. On top of everything else going wrong in her life, it had been too much.
In the beginning, she was the epitome of a maiden. She made a name for herself at Atlas Academy. Once, people believed she might sit in the headmaster's seat. She was strong. She was gentle. She was kind. She believed in putting others before herself, but that had all changed when her father passed away.
She had once had the same strong will that her children now had, but that was gone –leaving her an empty shell.
"This is the Winter Maiden," James said, "Kalt Schnee."
I also want to add this not a theory or a prediction. I just kind of think it would be cool to see Weiss's mother as the Winter Maiden as opposed to a new character or the more obvious choice of Winter. I, also, think it would be cool to see a broken down maiden, like Raven suggests the previous Spring Maiden was.