"Greetings." - Dialogue

'Where am I?' - Thoughts

"Ad mortem inimicus." (Death to my enemy) - Dialogue in foreign language (translation)


Darkness.

That was all she could see. The blackness of the void surrounded her, and its touch chilled her soul. She tried to turn her head to see if there was any light to be seen in the abyss, but found that she could not do so. It was like she was paralyzed. Such a thing is a fate worse than death for a Viking for they shall never be able to die in a battlefield. Just as she was about to scream in frustration, an orange glow came to life in front of her. The light was like a fire clouded by mist, and from the light she could hear a voice.

Her voice.

"Lo, there do I see my father. Lo, there do I see my mother." She recognized the lines her disembodied voice was saying in hushed whispers from a Viking prayer. One that she had recited far too many times.

"It's morning! It's morning!" This voice perplexed her, for it was and was not hers. The high pitch of her teenage voice was identical, but the sheer joy and excitement that flowed from her words did not belong to a warrior of the frigid North. Much less a Raider.

"And my sisters and my brothers." From the light, she could see a mass of funeral pyres with fellow warriors laying on top in their eternal slumber.

"We've been friends for soooooooo long! What are the odds we'd still be together? Well, not together-together." Who was she talking to here? She had few friends from Valkenheim, and none that were not of Viking blood. Also, what did she mean by 'together-together'?

"Lo there do I see the line of my people, back to the beginning." She could see the bodies of Helvar, Runa, Stigandr and Gudmundr lying in peace. Their weapons were laid on their chests, a final gift for their ascent to Valhalla.

"So there we were, in the middle of the night..." Her counterpart spoke again, but there was background chatter from what sounded like teenagers.

"Lo, they do call me, they bid me take my place among them," One by one, the pyres spontaneously combusted. It started from the furthest pyre, working its way towards her. It was then that she noticed why she could not move. She was bound and gagged on top of another pyre.

"Let's break his legs." She would have chuckled at the expense of the poor bastard whose legs she was going to break if she wasn't trying to escape her pyre.

"In the halls of Valhalla." Soon, Gudmundr's pyre was next to spontaneously combust. Then Runa's pyre, followed by Hevlar's. Stigandr's was last, but to her surprise his corpse turned to her with a smile on his pale face.

"I'm Queen of the Castle! I'm Queen of the Castle!" Thorsdottir winced at her counterpart's loud proclamations. Why would she be excited about being a queen of a castle? Personally, she thought that the stone fortresses of the Knights were overrated.

"Where the brave may live forever." Her pyre combusted, and fires danced around her. Agony stemmed from the points where tongues of flame touched her skin. She was being cremated alive, and she couldn't even scream in pain.

"NORA!" Masamune's voice rang her ears, younger and more vibrant. She flinched as a bright light overpowered the orange glow of fire.


A pair of eyes fluttered open to the sound of a methodical noise foreign to her ears. Turquoise and milky white stared blankly at a pure white ceiling. Although, only one can actually see anything. She had lost sight for her left eye during the war and had to retrain herself to compensate for the loss. Depth perception was difficult and only seeing through her right left a large blind spot to her left.

It didn't stop her from being the most lethal Viking of the Warborn Clan.

"I was wondering who would awaken first." Thorsdottir turned to face the owner of the voice. A blonde woman with weird circular things perched on her nose and attached to her ears. "But it would have been an insult to your people's tenacity if you were the last to do so."

"What do you know about my people?" Thorsdottir scoffed at the woman.

"Ég veit nóg." (I know enough) The woman replied in Icelandic, startling Thorsdottir. The Viking was about to go on a tirade in Icelandic when she was interrupted by the blonde woman. "What is your name?"

"Jarl Thorsdottir of the Warborn Viking Clan." Thorsdottir growled out, annoyed at being interrupted.

"That is but a title given to you by your people. What is your real name?" The woman pressed, a glint in her eyes told Thorsdottir that she would not let this pass.

"You say you know of our ways. Surely you know why I can't just give it to you." The Viking challenged, wanting to see if the strange woman could back up her claim. And if she could, then she should understand why Thorsdottir will keep on refusing to give her name.

"Yes, I know about how your people believed that names have power." Once again the strange woman surprised her. It was said that each living thing has two names, a true name and a title. The title is a name created by shamans and warlords which suits pasts deeds or their personalities. True names are given by family and only they are privy to a Viking's name as it is believed that the true names have magical powers over the person. To know a person's real name is to own that person. The tradition had spread all throughout Imeria, but only the Vikings knew the backstory of this custom.

"So then, let me ask you again. Why should I give you my real name?" Thorsdottir wouldn't voice it out loud, but the knowledge the stranger had of her people unnerved her.

"Because I can and will grant you a dishonorable death, denying you passage to Valhalla. Instead you would rot away in Hel until the end of time. Now your name."

"You dare.." The Viking growled threateningly at the woman, but blinked in confusion when the stranger produced a vial from inside her sleeve.

"This is a vial contains a slow acting poison. First it paralyzes you, then lowers your body temperature before disintegrating your heart to nothing. Your move."

"If you kill me, then you'll gain nothing."

"Perhaps, but there are others who came with you that can give me the answer."

"What makes you think that they know my name?"

"The four of you arrived together. That in itself wouldn't be too unusual if it were not for your company. A knight, viking, samurai and a hoplite travelling together without killing each other means that you are either allies or very close friends. Granted, I know that each one of you won't give away information regarding each other so easily, but people have limits." The blonde explained.

"Calling us allies is pushing it, calling us friends is beyond laughable." Thorsdottir chuckled at the thought, but her eyes remained defiant and locked with the blonde's own gaze. "And even if we knew each other's real names, no amount of pain will make us spill information. Any warlord knows how to keep their mouths shut."

"You sound certain."

"I am."

"Fortunately for your compatriots, I despise using pain as a means to interrogate. Unfortunately for them, I know how they tick. Especially the Warden." The blonde began to pace around Thorsdottir's bed.

"What do you mean?" The Viking sounded confused.

"All Wardens swore an oath to defend the weak and innocent. Some considered the oath as a guideline or a mere suggestion. Others used it to gain glory, fame and prestige among the masses." A small smirk grew on the blonde's face, as if she was recalling a memory. "But there is always a rare breed of Warden that live and die by that oath. For them, each innocent's death, whether direct or indirect, is a stain on their soul and blood on their hands. As such, they will do anything to uphold that oath. Even if they have to disclose sensitive information."

For a minute, the Viking was silent. Then the room's Imerian occupant exploded in laughter, boisterous and hearty.

"Do you honestly believe that Raguel is like that?! Don't let that white knight routine fool you, his soul is as tainted as ours!" The smaller woman spoke between guffaws, but the blonde was not amused in the slightest.

"Maybe he's killed innocents in the past, but judging by reports I've received he is one of those Paladins as they called themselves. Would you like me to test that theory?" The blonde shot back, causing Thorsdottir to grimace. The stranger did have a point as Thorsdottir only knew of Raguel's reputation from hearsay, but every interaction she has had with the knight was at odds with his bloody history.

"Why are you so deadset in learning my real name?!" The Raider roared in frustration, attempting to rise from the bed. It was then that Thorsdottir noticed the metal cuffs linking her arms to the railing of the bed she laid upon.

"Because I need to see if you existed on Remnant before you arrived." The mysterious blonde answered truthfully, dousing the flames of wrath that grew within Thorsdottir.

"What?"

"Multiple parties are interested in you and your comrades due to your emergence from nowhere. If you do not have any previous records here, then you will be registered into our system. If you do, then we will use those records. We are doing this for your safety."

"Then why didn't you start with that instead of threatening to kill me!?" Her wrath was brought back to life. She half-understood what the blonde was saying, but the fact that the truth was withheld from her spiked her rage.

"For personal reasons really. I wanted to see what kind of Raider you are. By the looks of it, you are a Jotun Raider. Loyal, traditional, and somewhat laconic. Immensely preferable to the deceptive and mouthy Jormungands or the Nord muscleheads."

"You do seem to know a lot about us. But that isn't enough for me to trust you with my real name. How will I even know that you will not use it against me."

"You don't. You are going to have to trust me when I say to you that I will not use your real name against you. You are going to have to trust me when I say that I will do everything in my power to keep you and your compatriots safe. Despite your skill, there are those who outclass you in such a way that they appear to be gods.." To prove her point, the blonde took out a key from her bun and unlocked the cuffs that held Thorsdottir down. Rubbing her wrists as she sat up, the Viking thought hard and deep about her next course of action.

"It's Nora... Nora Valkyrie." The hesitant manner in which she spoke was indication of how difficult it was for her to put her trust in a stranger. But Thorsdottir was not a stubborn woman, she knew when to concede if it meant a better fate in the long run. If what the blonde said was true, then having as many allies in this strange world will help immensely.

"I see.." Pain danced in the woman's emerald eyes momentarily before being snuffed by a mask of indifference. "How long have you been in Imeria?"

Nora didn't respond immediately, her lone eye picked up the flash of emotion in the woman's eyes. "You recognize me, don't you."

"Sharp eye." The blonde gave Nora a sad smile. "Yes, I recognize you. You were a student of mine in Combat Class. One of the best and certainly the strongest in terms of strength, both physical and emotional. You were declared dead a month ago due to an explosion. Deep down in my heart, I knew that you and your past teammates were still alive."

"That's…. A little odd for me to hear. Being a student of yours in a combat class. Or being in a combat class in the first place, along with the fact that it exists at all. As for your question, I lived and bled in Imeria for 24 years. Any more questions to ask?" Nora had mellowed out a bit at the mention of her supposed death, the dream of being burned alive being brought back to the forefront of her mind.

"This is more of a request. Tell me about the war."

"Why are you so curious about that specific topic?" Nora watched the blonde with a scrutinizing eye, curious as to why anyone would want to learn about a war.

"Believe it or not, you were once one of my favourite students. When Ruby told me that you and your comrades were in a war, I got worried as Imerian wars are long and brutal. From what I can see, it has taken a toll on you."

"You got that right." Nora closed her eyes to block out some memories and to think about the blonde's words. She spoke out of experience, and that intrigued Nora. "However, I feel that it would be best if all of us are present if you wish to learn about the war. Each of us had a part to play. Each of us has a piece of the story to tell."

"Humble for a Viking. Fair enough, I shall look forward to it. Thank you for cooperating. There will be people coming to tend to you, Jarl. Try not to scare them off."

"You never told me your name, yet I gave you mine. I believe that it is only fair that you would give me both of your names, your knightly title and your real one. Quid pro quo as you knights loved to say." The viking called out to the blonde as she made her way to the door, stopping said blonde.

"What makes you think that I am affiliated with the Knights?" Amusement shone in the blonde's eyes when she turned around, irritating Nora a bit.

"You don't look like the Samurai or the Wu-Lin. Green eyes and blonde hair are almost unheard of amongst their kind. That narrows it down between Vikings and Knights. I had a suspicion when you called out Raguel in Latin, but it was not enough for me to be absolutely certain. Your threat of denying me Valhalla was enough to convince that you were a Knight because no self-respecting viking would deny a fellow warrior passage to paradise." Nora explained her thought process, wondering as to how the ignorant masses of Imeria would responded to a Viking's insight. Not that the woman in front of her was part of it.

"Hmm, an observant Viking. Many would say that it is an impossibility." The lady smirked in respect. "I am Glynda Goodwitch."

"Question."

"Yes?"

"Why are you dressed like that?"

"Pardon?"

"I mean, knights love knowledge and all that. But the clothes those idiots wear just to learn how to write their names, ridiculous! But you, you're dressed comfortably. Except for those shoes of yours." Glynda chuckled at Nora's gripe about the 'uniforms' that the knights wore.

"We have uniforms in this academy as well, but they are significantly more comfortable than Imerian uniforms. And to be frank with you, I hated those tight dresses as much as you do. Perhaps even more, since I had to wear one."

"I pity you." Nora quipped and the two shared a laugh.

"However, your conclusion that I am a warrior of the Legions is incorrect. I have learned under their tutelage, but I am not loyal to them. A long time ago I was a bringer of salvation for the old and weak. A herbalist without equal and a champion for the damned." Nora's eyebrows rose as she recognized what Goodwitch was entailing and to confirm her suspicions, the blonde professor pulled up the right sleeve of her blouse and revealed a tattoo of three interlocking triangles.

"Who were you then, Valkyrie?" Nora asked, referring to Glynda's Imerian title. A small part of her rejoiced in the knowledge that she was not the only Viking in this new world that she found herself in.

"In due time, Jarl. In due time." Glynda responded cryptically as she left the room, taking one last glance at her former student before closing the door. "Why did it have to be them?" She whispered to herself as she made her way to Ozpin's office to share her findings and suspicions. A few tears threatened to fall, but she willed herself to not cry.

Crying will not erase the pain that her former students of team JNPR surely felt in that hellhole of a world. Crying will not help them gain their memories back. Crying will not help them reintegrate into society, and ease the pain that their friends and family will feel due to the disconnection of what they remembered and what they will learn of JNPR.

What crying can do is stave off the painful memories that were trying to resurface due to the sight of another child of Remnant losing whatever identity they had in order to forge a warrior of great martial skill. After all, a Valkyrie's duty was never an easy one and tears were just one way to cope with the difficult decisions she had to make in Imeria.

So she allowed herself to shed a few tears, easing the pain in her chest. A few tears became many, and before she knew it, she was sobbing in the middle of the hallway.


"Report." The headmaster of Beacon requested the man in the screen in front of him.

"All of team JNPR seem to have suffered from amnesia, headmaster. They have no recollection of their lives prior to their disappearance a month ago." The head medicae of the Beacon Infirmary responded through the scroll, reading off a clipboard. "Their auras are abnormally low compared to their previous records, but scans show that a great deal of aura is coalesced around their brains. We might have to conduct further tests to see why their auras are acting this way, though I may need permission to use sedatives. Just in case they are… uncooperative."

"Granted. If I may ask doctor, would the coalescence of their Auras around their brain be the reason why they lost consciousness after the breach?" Ozpin furrowed his brow at the thought of his original choice of the new vessel for half of Amber's power being made obsolete due to the various uncertainties of a new identity overwriting Pyrrha's staunchly loyal, naïve and selfless personality that he was counting on to convince her.

"Most likely sir, along with the overexertion of their semblances. Although I have a theory."

"Yes?"

"Maybe their claims of living in a land without Aura isn't as farfetched as it may seem. I believe that when they reactivated their Auras here, their souls reacted to the abundance of aura surrounding them. Effectively super charging their auras. It also should explain why their Auras coalesced around their brains because their souls aware of the fact that their memories are missing and are 'healing' their minds per se." The doctor paused before adding, " It's a shot in the dark, but it explains quite a fair bit."

"Thank you. You may return to your duties." The doctor nodded as the connection between him and the headmaster was cut. Once his report from the medicae was complete, he turned to his closest confidant. "Anything to add, Glynda?"

"They need time to rehabilitate." Glyda replied without hesitating. Ozpin could see that her eyes were slightly red and her make up had been recently reapplied. "I don't know how long it would take, but their minds are geared for war and would consider every unknown they come across as a perceived threat to themselves. There's no telling how volatile they are at the moment, but I can assure you that they will not hesitate to kill if provoked."

"It seems to be the case." The man thought back to the footage he reviewed regarding the formerly dead team. Specifically, how each attack was made with an intent to kill. Unlike some of the younger generation, who seem to focus a lot on flashy attacks made to hurt in order to prolong a display of skill.

"I had spoken with Miss Valkyrie and she claimed that she was in another world for twenty-four years."

"That is quite a claim, but it shouldn't be ignored. Their familiarity with their weapons and their fighting styles are signs of experience spanning years." Ozpin fell into a complentative silence, before speaking again. "Who shall be in charge of the rehabilitation process?"

"I have already sent letters to those I have deemed capable of doing so." Glynda responded without delay.

"Letters? A little old fashioned, don't you think?" The man tried to joke, but got a raised eyebrow for his troubles.

"Are you criticising me about being old fashioned?"

"Fair enough. How long until they arrive?"

"Taiyang should be here this evening or tomorrow, depending on how quickly he gets the letter. The others might take a week or two to arrive."

"Tai? He's still teaching at Signal if I recall. Why would he be one of your rehabilitators?"

"Let's say that this is also quite personal for him."

"I see." Ozpin was a little surprised of Glynda's sudden cryptic way of speaking. "How many?"

"There are four rehabilitators, and don't fret Headmaster. One of the rehabilitators is already here."

"Who would that be?" Ozpin guessed that she meant Peter. The old man may be a bombastic gloryhog, but his age meant that he has seen and experience things that are invaluable for the younger generation.

"You're looking at her." The headmaster nearly spat out his coffee at her response.

"Are you sure? I know that you are quite busy with preparations for the Vytal Festival." Not to mention finding a suitable replacement for Pyrrha.

"I have delegated many of the more mundane tasks to Professors Port and Peach." Glynda slid her scroll to a desired menu and showed him that she did request Professors Port and Peach to take charge of some duties regarding the festival.

"I suppose that means that a lot of your time will go to rehabilitating team JNPR?"

"Yes sir, and I would also be working on restoring their memories." Her claim caused Ozpin's eyebrows to furrow.

"What makes you think that they will regain their memories? Amnesia is a tricky thing."

"Call it intuition, sir." Again with the cryptic response from his most trusted ally.

"Anything else?"

"Yes. I would like to conduct combat tests with team JNPR in the foreseeable future. I understand that they are still recovering, but they do not have any injuries that would leave them bedridden for long. If they are anything like their past lives, they are bound to sneak out in order to escape boredom." He was about to respond, but his personal scroll lit up as if on cue and the head doctor's panicked face showed up.

"Headmaster, sir! Lie Ren has disappeared!" The man almost screamed in his panic and Glynda shook her head with a miniscule smile.

"See what I mean?"

"Calm yourself doctor, I shall send someone out to find him." The man managed to calm down somewhat at the headmaster's words and nodded before cutting the connection. "Alright Glynda. I am assuming that your tests are to be done in private."

"Not exactly. I wish for Mister Arc's and Miss Nikos' family as well as team RWBY to be present as I do these tests. I need them to see that their loved ones have changed for better or for worse. If you wish, you may also observe the tests with the others."

"Sorry, but I have security briefings with James. Make a recording of the tests and send the footage to me afterwards. It might be something that James would also be interested in."

"Yes sir."

"Oh, and find Mr. Ren for me please." He smirked when Glynda scowled at him.


A/N: Sorry for slow upload. Working 14 hours a day with Mordhau tempting me in the weekends is burning me out. I almost always have zero motivation to write due to fatigue and Mordhau. Along with the fact that I hate it when my chapters do not seem to flow properly and that new ideas keep popping in my head, which requires rewriting of a chapter in order to make it flow.

As such, I need your input on something. Do you guys want shorter 3-5k word chapters and (somewhat) more frequent uploads or longer 10k word chapters?

Also, I have washed my hands of For Honor. This story will still continue as the in-game universe still interests me, but I am abstaining myself from playing that game. The 'reworks' of Raider and Lawbringer made me lose whatever hope I had that this game was redeemable. It always seemed that I would win or lose duels not with skill, but rather with cheap and abusive moves. It isn't fun anymore, just frustrating.