So…to the people who IM'd me asking when this fic would come out because it was on my profile and I said, oh, in a day or so…

Whoops.

In my defense. I did not realize how long it would take me to flesh out an outline for this story and figure out the first chapter. I usually have a pretty good idea what the first few chapters of a story will look like and a general outline for the entire thing.

With this one, all I had was the idea for the story. None for the first chapter. Which is why it took me forever to write this. It didn't flow out of me at all. By the time I finished this chapter it was 11k words long. I cut nearly half of it. And then rewrote the remaining half.

That won't be necessary in the future.

I hope.

As I explain on my profile I am writing a couple of different stories. Once I've got a first chapter out for all of them I will create an update schedule for each. So you guys know exactly when a new chapter comes out. Right now, that's looking like a grand total of three stories. But I may add a fourth we'll see. I've been nursing a super iffy idea I might try. Kind of like how this one started. Before I realized how awesome Port was.

Unlike The Shield of Vale this is not an overly serious fic. As you'll soon see. If you are into more serious fantasy stuff you should check that out.

Again, I don't have a beta and didn't have a lot of time to edit. So please forgive small errors. Like overuse of a word in a paragraph. I just wanted to get this out. I'll do better I promise.

And to those who sent me IMs about a Yandere's Worst Nightmare. BAHHHHHHHHH... I'll consider it. Meh.

Without Further Ado…

The Port Chronicles

The Blue Haired Devil

A Few Days Before Beacon Initiation

In the Uninhabitable Lands to the Far South

"…and after Cinder acquires the full maiden powers…" Watts clicked a button on his small remote. His next slide was a rendering of a larger-than-life Cinder, drawn with razor sharp teeth, breathing fire at an Atlesian air-ship—a wide eyed Dragon sat in the background, seemingly afraid of its savage master.

Tyrian found the slide hilarious. Not that that said much. The scorpion faunus had laughed just as hard at the graphs and charts Watts had used earlier. Watts glanced at Cinder from the corner of his eye. She was gnashing her teeth, eyes alight in fury.

Good.

After all, how else would she fit into that skimpy red dress if he didn't break that giant ego of hers? Watts hated little girls pretending to be women.

Hazel looked vaguely amused.

Salem watched him like a hawk, no hint of an appreciation for humor in her features. There was no sign that she was paying attention to his presentation either.

Watts forged ahead regardless. "We will proceed to methodically dissect humanity." The slide changed again. This time it was a bloody man, pinned to a dissection table. The funniest part of the gruesome image was the setting. It was a highschool, but all the students had been replaced with Grimm. Watts had trouble resisting the urge to grin as he continued.

Tyrian laughed hard, just as he had at every other slide.

"Vale will be our first target because the fallout from the worst Grimm incursion and largest terrorist attack in the last century will leave them particularly vulnerable. In terms of both their martial defenses and the negativity of the populace."

His next slide was a timeline. "I predict we will ravage Vale within four years. And once we expand the Grimm breeding grounds… our access to the rest of Remnant will increase drastically. We'll lay waste to all four kingdoms within twelve to sixteen years."

The next slide was a collage of four separate images, each of the kingdoms of Remnant, each of them burning.

"This, my lady, is what we have been working towards for the last seven years. The plan has, admittedly, been in flux. Especially since Cinder's spectacular failure regarding the Maiden powers. I've had to make some huge adjustments since then." He looked at the girl in question. "Really dear, bravo."

If the looks of a child could kill...

"This, is the first step in the fulfillment of seven years of careful planning, building, and preparing. I call this first step, this first plan, H.U.M.A.N.B.E.N.D."

His final slide displayed his acronym vertically. Next to each letter was a word. "Human," "Uprisings," "Maiden," "Abilities," "Neutralization," "of Beacon," "Enlargement," "of Non-inhabitable," "Domains"

"H.U.M.A.N.B.E.N.D. is part of the larger plan, V.A.L.E.S.T.O.R.M., which in turn is first of four parts in D.E.A.T.H.T.O.A.L.L.M.A.N. After the completion of D.E.A.T.H.T.O.A.L.L.M.A.N., my queen, you will rule all Remnant, undisputed, humanity reduced to a crumb of its former self."

Watts ended his presentation with a flourish and a "thank you."

Tyrian clapped and cheered, screaming, "encore! Encore!"

Hazel nodded approvingly.

Cinder rolled her eyes and muttered something about "overcomplication" and "stupid people using stupid acronyms for everything."

Watts clicked his remote one last time, revealing his true final slide. It was another rendered image of Cinder. Said girl was reaching for a shiny object labeled "Fall Maiden Powers", only to get slapped in the face by an anthropomorphized, covered in feathers, rippling with muscle, six-foot-tall, crow.

He planned to leave that treat onscreen for the duration of the upcoming discussion.

Watts noted, with ample satisfaction, that Cinder's fingers left scorch marks on the table as she tried to pretend that his taunt was ineffective.

He looked to Salem, the only person at this table whose opinion mattered. Her chin rested on interlaced fingers. Her red and black eyes were expressive.

But Watts had no idea what they were expressing.

He could tell, however, that she was studying him, considering him and his plan.

Watts straightened his back a bit more.

###

Cinder watched Salem deliberate, fuming in silence. She hated him. She hated his obnoxious mustache. She hated his voice, his eyes, his words.

She hated everything about the man.

There was something distinctly irritating about having allies that weren't controlled with fear and intimidation. Cinder wanted to hear him scream as she burned the flesh from his bones. She wanted to watch him beg as she melted his body into unrecognizable soup.

As it was, for now, until Salem no longer deemed the man an asset, she could only meet his disrespect with mutual disdain.

She glanced at the illustration of her projected onto the far wall. The maiden powers were within her grasp, only to be smacked down by a six-foot tall crow.

Damn it.

It stung. It stung because that was basically what happened. Minus that horrid crow creature. Maybe Watts had been practicing his self-portrait skills there.

The man who had foiled her attempt at ultimate power had been a little…easier on the eyes. Certainly not a grotesque bird monster.

After a few seconds of silence Salem spoke. "You are unwaveringly thorough Watts, as per usual."

"You are too kind my queen. Are there any...modifications you wish to make?"

Cinder could see Watts' smugness. It was dripping off him. He was sweating it.

If only it was flammable.

"Only one," replied Salem, bone-white finger idly tracing the rim of her empty cup. "D.E.A.T.H.T.O.A.L.L.M.A.N. is the big scheme you have concocted to bring humanity to their knees. Correct?"

"Of course, my queen. I strive to stay on mission, always."

Cinder scoffed and rolled her eyes. Leave it to Watts to pat himself on the back at every possible opportunity.

There was nothing wrong with pride.

Unless you were a useless tool.

Now Watts wasn't useless—after all—Salem had kept him around for years. There had to be a reason.

Cinder assumed it was amusement.

So, Watts wasn't useless. Not in the true sense of the word. But, dear god, was he a tool. Such a tool.

"And I have always appreciated that about you Watts," said Salem magnanimously. "You've spent the last seven years crafting one of the most thorough and detailed plans I've ever seen—and I've lived for millennia."

"You are too kind," said Watts, smiling, clearly pleased by the recognition. "So is it D.E.A.T.H.T.O..A.L.L.M.A.N you wish to modify?"

"Not modify," corrected Salem, "scratch altogether."

"Ah," replied Watts.

The man froze, clearly attempting to process what the powerful woman before him had just said.

Cinder required far less time. All that smugness…all those jabs…all those condescending glances.

Cinder's hand flew to her mouth as she laughed.

She laughed silently.

But visibly.

Very visibly.

Watts glared at her. "If I may ask, my queen, why this…sudden change of heart?"

"Oh, it's not a sudden change of heart Watts," answered Salem quickly, "I have been on the verge of dumping your plan for seven years."

Watts cleared his throat.

Cinder, under the impression that she had composed herself, nearly choked when she heard Salem's response.

Hadn't Watts only been working with Salem for seven years?

"You always seemed so happy working on your plans," said Salem, in a voice not unlike a mother. Well…a mother who lacked human empathy and had no issue killing her children. "Especially coming up with those ridiculous names. I certainly didn't want to take that away from you."

Cinder could hardly breathe.

"Thank you ma'am," Watts squeezed out.

"You are welcome Watts," the Queen of Grimm demurred.

Watts sat down stiffly, clearly content to take the rest of his humiliation in silence.

Cinder sighed at that. She wished he had talked back to Salem. She would have loved to see him struck down, or at least maimed a bit.

But he wasn't stupid enough to challenge the Queen of Grimm. And he probably recognized that respectfully asking for more explanation on her refusal would only result in further embarrassment.

Cinder wasn't as keen to save Watts the agony. "My lady," she began with a bowed head, "I understand your reason, for…humoring Watts. What better way to make sure one day he actually grows up to become a passable tactician?"

Watts' facial shade was beginning to resemble Cinder's dress.

Cinder continued with glee. "But I think we're all wondering…" She motioned vaguely to the other two seated at the table, "what makes his plans so…utterly useless?"

"You…!" Watts turned on Cinder, beginning to roar.

He went silent immediately when Salem spoke in her calm, almost bored voice.

"The reason I am dismissing Watts' interlocking schemes is because they are naïve and will not work."

"Naïve, my queen?", Watts hissed from between clenched teeth.

Watching him stuff his anger down his throat as he addressed their master was, perhaps, the most beautiful sight Cinder had ever beheld.

"Perhaps 'naïve' is the wrong word," said Salem, "Flawed…? Weak…? Impotent…? The fact of the matter remains, while some small pieces of your plan show promise, the larger stages will never succeed. Not in a hundred years."

Cinder waited to hear Watts' response. When none was forthcoming she looked a little closer. He wasn't moving. He wasn't even blinking. It was as if he had been frozen from the inside out.

Oh, Salem broke him.

Cinder had never admired her mistress more.

It was Hazel who broke the silence. His voice reverberated around the room like an Ursa growl. "As you all know, I'm no strategist. Although I suppose I'm not the least strategic at this table." He looked pointedly at Tyrian.

Tyrian pretended to blush, covering his face with open hands and his stinger, before breaking out into a cackle.

Hazel continued after shaking his head at his insane frie—acquaintance. "Since tactics aren't my specialty I will not waste time pondering whether Watts' plans are trash. I will simply accept your word on the matter."

Watts' face twitched.

"Of course." Tyrian giggled. "Trash is trash. Especially when the Goddess says so."

Watts' twitching intensified.

"I am curious though," Hazel continued, unperturbed, "what does this mean for us?"

"Things will proceed as scheduled for the immediate future," answered Salem. "The fatal flaw in Watts' plans is his gross underestimation of our enemies. Cinder you'll need to be careful. But you should be fine."

"You're too kind," said Cinder, smiling.

"It was not a compliment Cinder," chided Salem, "you simply have an advantage over the rest of us."

"I do?", asked Cinder, surprised. As far as she was aware, until she managed to get the other half of her powers, she was the weakest individual at this table. Aside from when Mercury and Emerald occasionally stood by her.

"You're young. He won't move against you. Not if you keep a low profile. He believes in leaving the problems of the next generation up to the next generation. Watts though…", she glanced at the near cationic man, "he'd kill this one in a heartbeat."

"Ozpin my lady?", asked Hazel.

"Ozpin? No. Not Ozpin. Ozpin used to be a concern. He hasn't been for decades."

"Qrow?", ventured Cinder.

"Crow? Oh. The one who foiled your attempt on the maiden." She motioned to the obscene projection behind her. "No."

Cinder exchanged a confused look with Hazel. Tyrian did not have answers either. He was preoccupied with…

Was that a dead animal?

Watts was beginning to recover, but he had clocked out of the conversation far too long to know what they were discussing.

"Who?", Cinder finally asked.

Salem closed her eyes and exhaled. "The Blue Haired Devil."

The Blue Haired Devil? Who the hell was that?

"Anyway, Watts," continued Salem, eyes snapping open, "I imagine you will be happy to hear that I have adopted your system for naming plans. The operation that will be replacing yours is called S.E.I.Z.I.N.G.T.H.E.P.O.R.T."

"What does that stand for?", asked Watts.

"What it stands for is of no concern to you Watts. Or the rest of you. All you need to know is what it entails…"

"Cutting down the Blue Haired Devil?", suggested Hazel.

"Roasting him," supplied Cinder.

"Stabbing him and stabbing him and stabbing him and stabbing him," said Tyrian happily.

"A subtler death, you fools," said Watts. "Poison," he crowed.

Great, Cinder rolled her eyes. The prick was participating again.

She studied her master's expression. It seemed none of them were right. What horrifying death did the Queen of Grimm have in store for the Blue Haired Devil?

Salem's eyes were suddenly alight with more energy than she had displayed during the entire conversation. The black in her eye dilated and there was a bit of a smile building at the corner of her mouth.

It was not an expression Cinder was familiar with seeing on her queen's face.

"I will bring him to my side. I will dominate him. He will submit. The Blue Haired Devil will become my...pawn."

There was a manic passion in the Grimm Lord's voice, an uncomfortable departure from the cool, collected reason the woman usually displayed.

It disappeared so quickly Cinder thought she might have imagined it.

But there was no room for that thought when Salem detached Watts scroll from the projector and plugged in her own.

After a moment of swiping she pulled up the image of a young man with blue hair and a small moustache. He was shirtless. He was short. Probably shorter than Cinder. He was muscular, had the build of a huntsman and had a large axe in his left hand and a colossal axe strapped across his back. He was smiling at the camera, so much so that his eyes were squeezed shut.

He was a handsome looking man. Probably popular with the ladies. He'd have been near perfect if he was taller.

Not quite the devil Cinder had been expecting.

"This is Peter Port," said Salem, meeting each of their eyes, she began swiping through, what turned out to be, a rather extension collection of photos, "and I want him."

###

30 Years Before the Formation of teams RWBY & JNPR.

In the Southern Wilds, 221 miles south of Vale

"So there I was, staring down the biggest Nevermore I'd ever seen. All I had on me was a toothbrush and a pair of briefs," explained Peter Port, booming. The man had opted to shed his shirt, his toned upper body covered only by the strap across his chest that fixed his massive axe to his back. "A pair of briefs!", he repeated for emphasis.

"What interesting flora," said Bartholomew Oobleck as he inspected a large flower on the side of the road. A foot taller but twenty pounds lighter than his well-built friend, and wearing his full explorer's ensemble Oobleck was…an altogether different man than Port.

On the explorer's back, hidden beneath his much larger bag of equipment, was his special bag—filled to the brim with pure espresso. He clamped his mouth around the clear plastic tube dangling before his lips and sucked in a long draft. He moaned as the bitter fluid hit his palette. His body began to vibrate a bit, as if he was fading in and out of their dimension. When he spoke, his pacing had nearly tripled. "It appears to be a kind of orchid but…its petal shape is vaguely reminiscent of a lily," Bartholomew's attention remained on the flower when he addressed Peter. "Were the briefs in hand or on you?"

The two men were journeying through a particularly rough section of underbrush, making their way deeper into the forests of the southern wilds. Well, Peter Port was walking. Bartholomew Oobleck was disappearing and reappearing all over the place within a thirty-foot radius of his friend, observing everything he could take in.

Their mission was…

Well their mission was unclear, to say the least.

Port had claimed he needed to take a journey—to reassert his dominance over Grimm and nature.

What did that even mean?

Ozpin had told the eclectic warrior that he'd find interesting happenings to the south, while smirking deviously from behind a cup of coffee.

Who would ever fall for that?

And Bart was always willing to explore new parts of the world.

Although, perhaps, in the future, he should not be so eager?

So here he was. Bartholomew Oobleck—a scientist, archeologist, historian, and caffeine aficionado—two-hundred or so miles from the nearest lab, library, or brewery.

"Good question," roared Port, stopping next to his friend. "The briefs were on me. But they'd be off by the end of the fight!"

"It's probably unnecessary for a dabbler in botany such as myself to take thorough documentation of a species I will, no doubt, be able to find record of when I return home, so I will keep my notes…" Oobleck paused, glancing at Port, "…brief."

Peter laughed for fifteen seconds at his friend's pun, which, coincidentally, was about how long Bart required to take six pages of notes, including a sketch of the flower, a detailed explanation of its scent and feel, and several theories concerning its genus.

"So there we were. I and a giant Nevermore. I had no weapon and no time to waste. See, I had a lady waiting for me back in bed—"

"Wait, where does this tale take place?", interrupted Bart. He shut his notebook and stashed his pencil. "Were you not in the wilds?"

"Ah! I thought you might have missed some of the saucier details when you chased after that hummingbird! This adventure began at the finest hotel in Vacuo. See, I was enjoying a rather pleasurable night and before I knew it…the sun was rising! My companion complained that she couldn't take any more and needed a break before she 'broke.' So I decided to brush my teeth, and retreated to the balcony."

"It was at this point the giant Nevermore showed up?", asked Bartholomew.

"Correct!"

"At a five-star hotel, in Vacuo?"

"Yes!"

"Would that hotel happen to be The Pillar of Autumn?"

"The one and the same!"

"What an odd occurrence," began Oobleck, displaying a more scientific interest now. "You don't often hear of lone Grimm—even of the flying variant—wandering into the center of a densely populated and heavily protected area—and alone at that."

"Oh! Well, it wasn't 'alone.' It was the first to arrive. There were still several hundreds more coming."

"Wait." Oobleck inhaled more straight caffeine. "Did this story take place during the great migration of sixty-five?"

"Why…" Port faded off as he did some quick math, "I believe so! Anyway, the Nevermore was glaring at me something fierce—"

"Peter. We were still attending Beacon in sixty-five."

"I didn't say we weren't—"

"And our team was in Vacuo during the migration. Together."

"What!?", exclaimed Port. "That's absurd…" He trailed off as he sorted through the smaller, less important memories surrounding his epic story. "Ah. Actually, that sounds familiar."

"It should. If I remember correctly, you said you were going to get some training done the night before the attack."

"And I did! But you know how they are Bart."

"Who?"

"Women."

"Ah. Yes. I forgot about the universal struggle you and I share. The relentless pursuit of the fairer sex, incessant, insatiable, unfathomable desire."

"So you do know!"

"Only because I was your teammate Peter," said Oobleck, "you know my passions have always leant themselves to more… scientific pursuits."

"I am the same my friend! My passions trend towards a certain type of science as well. The science known as…"

"Don't say it," muttered Oobleck quietly, drinking a bit more of his caffeinated ambrosia.

"Anatomy!"

"Damn it Peter."

Port laughed far longer and louder than he should have been allowed too.

Bartholomew spoke once his teammates raucous laughter had settled. "I must say, I am surprised that this is the first I've heard of this escapade. For someone who likes to boast as boldly as you and claims to have no fear of man or monster…Why didn't I hear of all this the morning after it happened?"

Port froze at that question.

Oobleck knew why.

"I must have forgotten in the ensuing excitement. It was a big incursion. Lots of civilians to protect," explained Peter, looking off to his left.

"A reasonable hypothesis, forgetfulness brought on by the thrill of prolonged combat."

"Precisely!", agreed Peter, "It could happen to anyone, even a huntsman of my caliber!"

"True, true, it could happen.", Oobleck made a show of slurping his coffee this time. "but, if I may counter-hypothesize, you did not forget. You were afraid."

"Me? Afraid? Afraid of what? Perhaps you've mistaken me for another—"

"Glynda."

"Ah. Glynda. She. Well. Yes. I had not considered how she would react to the matter. I suppose she might have responded…adversely. Now that I give it some thought."

Bartholomew thought back to the time Glynda had caught Peter having… "relations" in their dorm. With his lover's terrified screams setting half the backdrop and his laughing and jesting setting the other, Glynda had gently levitated her naked teammate out of their window and then proceeded to launch him into orbit.

"If by 'she might have responded adversely' you mean she may have wielded your body as a blunt instrument against the Grimm hordes then I must agree, her response would have been…" Oobleck chuckled, "adverse."

"Fair enough!", said Port as he laughed. "You found me out. Only a fool would make light of Glynda's wrath. Can you believe she plans to become a teacher? Of children no less!? I cannot imagine it! Think of the horrors the children will face!"

"Hmm," Oobleck hummed as he inspected some purple moss growing on the side of a tree. "A most peculiar color," he muttered. Louder he said, "I do not believe Glynda will make a particularly bad educator. In fact, I think her intelligence and discipline will lead her to great success. I am, however, surprised by her decision. I did not realize she had any desire to teach."

"It's Ozpin," said Port, "His hooks are in her deep. And Glynda has always...well you know."

Bart knew indeed. The relationship between Ozpin and Glynda had always been…complicated. To say the least. Ozpin was their senior, a teacher while they were still students—albeit the youngest teacher on staff in Beacon history—but still a few years older than them. The man was at first glance lazy, disinterested, self-indulgent, and arrogant.

The second glance, and every glance following thereafter, looked much the same.

Yet, for some reason, the man had Glynda Goodwitch's unwavering support and loyalty, both during her tenure as a student, and after, as a full-fledged huntress. Was it love? If it was any other woman Bartholomew might have presumed so.

But one did not presume with Glynda.

"It's sad really," continued Peter, "she did not have the fortitude to avoid getting wrapped up in Ozpin's pace. Unlike you and I. He suggested she teach, so now she teaches. He will not be able to pull the same on us. Yes. You and I…we belong out here." He inhaled deeply, "Under the open sky, not in a stuffy classroom. Ozpin has no strings on us."

Bart wondered if now would be a good time to reveal that Ozpin had been talking to him about becoming a teacher. And to mention that he didn't quite dislike the idea.

And should he also mention that they were only heading south because Ozpin had told them too?

He opened his mouth to speak.

But he did not. He bit back his words.

Instead, he strained to listen.

Quiet, but steadily growing louder, he heard the steady thump of wingbeats. Those were not the wings of an average creature.

"Do you hear that?"

"I do indeed," said Port, eyes glinting.

"Three clicks to our west is the beginning of the Southern mountain range. I recommend we adjust our heading and find higher ground. To best see what we're dealing with."

"It sounded big, didn't it?", asked Peter, with barely constrained excitement.

"Hard to tell without a visual indicator to its distance. However, if it was adequately far away…It could be as big as a Dragon."

Port was sold. "Lead the way!"

###

29 Years 364 days and 21 hours Before the Formation of teams RWBY & JNPR.

In the Southern Wilds, 224 miles south of Vale

She clasped her hands together, willing her unresponsive digits to stop trembling. It was to little success. Instead of her fingers, both her arms began to shake.

It was impossible.

Unthinkable.

Goddamn inconceivable.

She did not want to take her eyes off the ledge before her. But she could not stop herself from watching Leonardo, her favorite Dragon, fall from the sky, a single wing missing from his massive body.

When Leo hit the ground his body began to fade, disappearing into the darkness from whence he was born.

That was two dragons now.

The huntsman—if the devil could truly be called such—had maimed her eldest Dragon and, wrapping a rope around the tip of his injured wing, piloted Raphael on a one-way collision course with her Goliaths. That had resulted in three overturned Goliath's, and several hundred crushed smaller Grimm.

She'd never seen an army of Grimm eviscerated so quickly by one warrior before. Well, a warrior without eye powers. But the silver-eyed were an exception to most rules.

Still, to wreak this much havoc with nothing but his hands and an axe?

He was a monster.

Was he still alive?

He must be.

Her twin Dragons had coated him with fire. He killed one before he bothered to pat out the flames.

The efforts of her second Dragon, had vaporized the blue haired devil, along with the mountain top on which they stood, revealing the volcano below. If the full body dive hadn't left him a smear than, surely, the plummet into the angry lava of the active volcano would have finished him.

Or so Salem thought.

But, a moment later, the demons weapon, glowing a blistering shade of orange, flew from the fiery depths of the mountain, hewing Leo's wing off easily, leaving him to follow his brother to hell.

He was alive.

He was alive.

Damn it all he was alive!

Should she flee or should she fight? Her mind cartwheeled back and forth in uncertainty.

Surely, she was stronger than him?

Surely, there was no one man that could defeat her?

Surely.

Still, despite her certainty, she stepped back when she heard his voice. He was still below her. But he was getting closer.

"Hup!"

He was coming.

"Hup!"

Probably hopping up the goddamn rock face like some kind of goddamn monster.

"Hup!"

Her heart went from a race to a stampede. His voice was getting closer. He was almost here.

"Hup!"

He landed before her, his blue hair tussled by the roasting updrafts rising from the magma below. His body was...

Well...

It was unreal.

He looked as if he was sculpted from marble. His pecs glistened under a sweaty sheen, hung beneath the broadest of shoulders. His chest tapered from there, abs like individually wrapped chocolates-of the vanilla variety.

He was short. Salem was taller. But his presence, his look, it made him a giant.

She bit her lip and allowed her eyes to drift lower.

Holy…

There was nothing short about that.

He had shed his shirt before his trip into the volcano. And since then he had lost his pants too, letting loose his...generous member.

She forced her eyes up. Only danger lay below.

The man was smiling. Smiling. He had such a friendly smile too. She wondered how many had fallen for that boyish grin only to fall later by his hand. Atop his lips sat a small tuft of blue hair.

A much larger tuft of blue hair sat atop his...

No! Eyes up!

"How!?", she shrieked. "How are you still alive?"

"Come now! What hunter would fall to a bit of fire?", the man chuckled, as if her question was nothing more than a joke.

"Dragon fire," she hissed. "That wasn't just fire, it was Dragon fire!"

"Ah," said the man, as if he had just solved a riddle. "It did feel a little on the hotter side! Although, to be honest I wasn't sure. At first, I just thought the extra heat was from the flames of youth burning in my belly."

"The volcano," the woman sputtered, "the lava should have been even hotter!"

"You're acting like I took a soak in it. It was boiling down there. So I got out as quick as I could." The man began inspecting himself, probably searching for burns. He started with his limbs and then his chest and then his...his...

The woman studied her own pale hands. She wasn't a stickler for modesty. Hell, she didn't care if every single one of these overly intelligent apes went around buck-naked for the rest of their pathetic lives.

But...

But...

She really wanted this primitive being to cover up. At least a bit. God. Please.

"Well, I seem to be relatively unharmed," said the man. "Good for you. If I'd been injured well..." He laughed. It wasn't a light sort of laugh. When he stopped laughing he was still smiling, but there was a definitive hint of malevolence. "I'd have to punish you."

A frigid jolt of electricity ran down the woman's spine. Her knees weakened. The trembling returned. Her mouth was dry,

Was it fear or arousal?

Which did she want it to be?

"Ah. My bad. I didn't mean to scare you fair beauty. You have such a powerful semblance-controlling the Grimm as you do-I forgot I was talking to a young woman."

The woman finally found her voice. "I-I am ancient!"

The man did not acknowledge that she had spoken. "I'm still feeling a bit peckish. Can you summon some more Grimm? Maybe a big one?" He placed his hands on his hip, highlighting the dragon he could summon, a few inches further down."

The woman tried and failed to keep her gaze from swerving. "A big one?"

"Yeah. A big one. Not like those appetizers you had up in the sky."

She retrained her attention on the man's perpetually smiling face. "Those were elder Dragons!"

"The older, the bigger, right?", said the man.

Her gaze drifted downwards again. "Right, bigger."

"Then do your elder Dragons have any elders?"

She shook her head slowly, eyes tracing the chiseled outline of the Adonis before her. "Who are you?"

The man guffawed as if her question was the most absurd in the world. "Me? Why my name is—"

###

4 Hours Before the Dismissal of D.E.A.T.H.T.O.A.L.L.M.A.N

In the Uninhabitable Lands to the Far South

"Port!", Salem screamed as she awoke. Her heart thudded and her lungs heaved. She grabbed two handfuls of her soaking wet sheets.

Again.

It had happened again.

Too terrifying to be a dream and too sweet to be a nightmare. Peter Port.

Why?

Why did she dream of him near every night? Why did she awake to sheets soaked with sweat and...well...

Damn it all.

She stalked out of bed, peeling off her sticky nightgown. She hated it. She hated him. She hated humanity.

God, she hated humanity.

The queen of Grimm ran herself a bath, washing away the evidence from last night's sordid memory. She was tempted to finish what last night's dream had started but she refused.

She wouldn't give that man the satisfaction.

She finished her bath, returning to her bedroom. She took a moment to glare at her full-length mirror.

Was there any sign of last night's adventure? No?

Good. Her red and black eyes, weren't glazed and hazy, that was good. Her hair fell neatly enough after wetting it. That was fine. She sniffed her arm. Her scent was lemony, that would do.

She looked a little lower down the mirror. She'd never paid much attention to her body. Why would she? She was the embodiment of pain, suffering, and wrath.

But ever since meeting that man, nearly three decades ago...

She wondered.

She wondered what he saw when he looked at her. He had called her a fair beauty, was there a chance he had meant it? Sure, she was shaped...curvaceous, always had been. But her ashen skin, gently leaking a dark miasma, and the red markings that covered so much of her body...

Well, Port hadn't seen all of her, no matter how naked he had made her feel. He'd probably change his mind if he saw her fully. Although...who knew?

After drying Salem slipped into a casual dress, hanging by her door. The dress was dark and glossy; it suited her well. It was also informal enough wear to meet with the help, which she would be doing soon enough.

She exited her bedroom, heading for her closet.

This was getting ridiculous. Port haunted her dreams, distracted her from a vengeance she had been plotting for more than a thousand years, and threatened the chances of success of those plans altogether.

He was a colossal threat to her interests. And she hated threats to her interest.

And there was only one way to deal with that which she hated.

Not poison. Too impersonal.

Not a blade between the ribs while asleep. Too fast.

Not a trap. Too cowardly.

She opened the door to her dark closet, feeling for the light switch.

Yes, there was only one way to deal with Peter Port.

Her fumbling fingers found the light, illuminating a small room drenched in Peter Port paraphernalia. Dolls, pictures, newspaper clippings, and replicas of the Hunter filled the room in a display of organized obsession.

She was going to make him hers. She was going to take his body and his mind, leaving nothing behind. She would make him scream her name in need, want, and lust.

At the back of the closet was a makeshift shrine, candles and all. At the center was a full-length pillow with Port's image printed across it.

She'd slept with it the first few nights she had it. But soon realized she would dirty the majestic cushion. And there were only so many times you could clean the pillow before you ruined the graphic.

So, she had learned to restrain herself.

She stared at the man on the pillow. He was stubbier and rounder than he had been in his youth. And his moustache was thicker…

Salem's restraint snapped.

She grabbed the pillow, crushing it to her ample chest. It would be fine. Her body was clean right now.

"Besides," she spoke aloud, a giggle lodged in her throat, "I'll have the real thing soon enough…right sweet?"

###

Present Day

At Beacon Academy

"...and that's how I foiled the queen of Grimm's first attempt to invade Vale, by accident, when I was but a young man, on a journey to reaffirm my manhood, in a beautiful expanse, recommended to me by none other than your headmaster. Now I must say, it is still to my undying shame that I did not kill the Queen of Grimm that day." Port laughed.

"To be honest I did not know that she was the mother of all that is evil in this world. I assumed that she, like myself, had been born into this world with the sort of power and good looks that render the wielder an outcast—an unfortunate side effect to society being incapable of understanding and accepting their good looks and power. So, I let her go."

"I have since run into her on several occasions throughout my career. In all that time, more than thirty years, she has not made another strong move against Vale. Some think she has not made a second attempt on Vale out of fear. Fear that I, Peter Port, will render her best efforts into dust. Some think she is no longer interested in Vale but, rather—like many a man and woman over the years—has become obsessed with me. Lost in plotting some way to make my stalwart heart and granite body her own. Still others believe I taught her a valuable lesson in blood and tears. They believe that she will return to Vale-but not leading an army of elder Grimm like before. She will return with a plot so complex and so vast that few will even understand it!"

Peter Port surveyed his dead classroom with critical eyes. So many promising young Hunters! So many of them asleep!

He sighed.

It didn't mean they wouldn't grow up to be great warriors and fine protectors of humanity.

But every moment these future huntresses and huntsman wasted asleep in his class was another mile between them becoming a great hunter and becoming a huntsman extraordinaire, like himself. He'd even gone out of his way to ignore Ozpin's constant screeching about not revealing Salem's existence.

Still they snored.

Fortunately, this class was not entirely without prospect.

He pointed to one raised hand.

"Yes Ms. Valkyrie?"

Despite the dozens of sleeping students, which included Nora's childhood friend and unwilling partner in crime, Nora was just as energetic and invested in Port's lecture as he was himself.

What an impressive young woman.

The girl spoke in a strange caricature of a royal accent. "Well, Peter, I must say I enjoyed today's lecture immensely!" Whatever the accent was supposed to be, she pronounced Peter, pet-her.

"Capital!", cheered Port. He surveyed the room once again. "It appears most of your classmates could not handle it all."

"That's because they aren't academics Peter. Not like you and m-wa."

"True, true," agreed Peter. What an insightful young lady.

"I do have a question though prof." The studious young lady's accent vanished.

She was even working on mastering different dialects for infiltration tasks and the like! What aplomb!

"Where else have you ran into the Queen of Grimm!?", roared Nora.

"Good question lass!", exclaimed Port "Seven times in the woods just outside of my house, she said she was on her way to her supplier of a 'critical merchandise', and once at the electronics store in my home town. She was buying expensive camera lenses."

"Did you fight her!?", asked Nora, bouncing up and down excitedly.

"Interrupt a woman while she's shopping? What kind of a man do you think I am?"

Nora's face went serious. "Sorry. I didn't even realize."

"Quite alright my dear. It happens to the best of us."

Nora, ever unflappable, did not take her mistake to heart. "You should bring her here," she chirped.

"Salem?", asked the professor.

"She could summon Grimm for us to fight! Like the Dragon!"

Port chuckled at his prize student's enthusiasm. "While I agree, it would be good for you students to have some experience fighting legendary Grimm that can single-handedly wipe out entire civilizations, I can't bring Salem here."

"What!?", cried Nora, "there's something you can't do!?"

"Don't misunderstand lass!" Peter was quick to correct. "It's not that I can't it's because Salem is the embodiment of evil. I could never introduce a being like that to my students."

"Are you sure she's really that bad?", asked Nora. "Are you sure she doesn't just need to be," she laughed and snorted, "ported?"

Salem.

Ported.

Peter broke into a grin.

This Nora Valkyrie…

An insightful young lady indeed.

On The Shield of Vale I got a couple complaints about the non-linear nature of the chapter. So of course…

I wrote another non-linear first chapter.

Woot.

Hopefully this one isn't as confusing.

Anyone notice for the characters I put Team RWBY and Team JNPR and then I made them a character pairing?

What's that all about? I wonder...

Forgive me for typos kay? Thanks. I'm working on getting second sets of eyes on my fics for this fandom.

-Vronsurd