If he was given the chance, by some miracle of the gods, to do it all over again, there were many, many things Jacques Schnee would have done differently. He would have known how trivial money truly was, he would not have squandered so much time on business at the neglect of his family, he would never have let that monster take his child...

And he would have cherished his wife. He would have never taken her for granted if he knew how little time he'd have with her, and how dearly, how deeply he would miss her once she was gone.

He unstopped his flask and took a drink. He needed to fortify himself for what was coming next. For fifteen years, he'd planned for this day and he could not allow himself to lose his convictions now. The liquor burned on his throat, acrid and tasting like nothing other than its ethanol content. That was good, though; he wanted the burn. He only drank cheap liquor now, nothing smooth, nothing pleasant. That, he only drank socially, to keep up appearances. This rotgut that burned in his throat right now was for focusing his mind.

The footsteps outside the hotel room door told him he needed to close his flask and conceal it. She had scolded him enough about his drinking, and he didn't want to worry her. He pocketed his flask and looked up as his daughter entered the room.

Winter. She looked so much like her mother. She had Willow's grace, and, though very few had the privilege to see it, she had her gentle kindness as well. And she took all of Jacques's best traits, in her drive, her focus, her dedication, without any of the poison that had brought him to such ruin. The fastest-promoted Specialist in Atlas's history, and the most caring daughter a father could ask for. He loved his children dearly, so dearly, and he was so, so very close to having them back.

"Father," she chided, "you should have sent a proxy. We cannot afford-"

"I needed to hear it from family," he shot back, his grief and worry barely contained, "I couldn't afford to wait another moment to learn: how is she?"

Winter paused and Jacques's heart stopped. He had, for fifteen years, rehearsed for every imaginable horror and atrocity he might learn, but now, staring it in the face, he realized how unprepared he was. She looked at him gravely. "Father… you need to sit down."

"What did they do to-"

"You need," she insisted, "to sit down."

Horror sapping the strength from his legs, he collapsed into his chair. He looked up at his daughter, pleading, "What… what has she done to my baby girl?"

"General Ironwood spoke to… to Weiss as part of a delegation of Academy headmasters. You'll see his report with the rest of the families, but she… was able to speak well and clearly and seemed… she seemed..."

"Tell me! Just tell me!" he begged, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the cushioned arm rests, "Whatever you're not telling me, just tell me!"

But she couldn't speak. Instead, she wordlessly handed him an envelope that Jacques snatched up and tore open. Photos. He grabbed one and looked… and so dearly wished that he hadn't.

It was… there was so much of Willow in her that he couldn't deny that she was his daughter, that she was his Weiss, but… he was not looking at anything human. Her skin was as chalk white as the devil that took them, and veins of Grimmstuff crossed it—her eyes, sunken pits with a faint blue light inside them. Even her picture… just looking at it triggered the reflexive fear and revulsion his instincts used to warn him of Grimm. Fear and revulsion at his own daughter!

He had no words. His voice was lost, just a great, keening wail that seemed to emanate from deep within him as his grief took sound. His hands shook uncontrollably, the photos dropped to the floor in a scattered pile, and then they darted to his jacket pocket where he snatched up his flask and quickly downed the rest of the liquor. But all he could think as it burned his throat was the thought of that dark Grimm corruption, mutilating his child.

What- What had that monster done to his little girl?

He had thought that death would be the worst fate, but death, at least, would put her out of her misery, would have put an end to her fear and pain, and leave only his grief. But this… she wasn't human anymore. Was she still alive? Or was her soul caged in a monstrous body, puppeted by the Witch-Queen's cruel caprice?

And worse was the hopelessness. Before he looked, there was always another option, they had planned a hundred ways to get his Weiss back. Ways to fake her death, or to frame her abduction on another party, or to facilitate a defection. In the worst case, he would end the treaty that bound them, letting Atlas go to war just to protect his daughter. But now… there was no hope. No return. She was, forever, lost. Anything he could have done, should have done, was now 15 years too late. 15 years of a foolish hope that he would one day see his child again.

Winter was holding him. He hadn't realized that she was now gripping him in her arms, telling him to calm down as he shook to pieces with his sobs. "Father- Dad! It's alright, it's alright."

"No," he moaned, "No, it will never be-"

"She's still herself. General Ironwood spoke with her and she- he said she-" her voice caught in her throat as she squeezed her eyes shut, forcing her own tears at bay, "he said she sounded like he was speaking to mom."

At that, Jacques' eyes suddenly cleared as a rush of hope surged into him. "L-like your mother? Like Willow?" Maybe… maybe some spark still remained? Maybe there was still a possibility, a mad possibility… but he'd been living on such possibilities for a decade and a half.

"There's still a chance. That she's… still our Weiss. There is a… I have taken the liberty to contact an individual who specializes in this question, a doctor of Grimm research. He's… unorthodox, but he might be able to help. With your permission-"

"Do what you have to," was all he could say as he sank further into his chair. Caught between shattering hope and blinding despair, he felt like he was being pulled apart, but he needed to be strong. To be strong for Winter, for Whitley, for Willow, for… for Weiss.

Winter crouched next to him, gently holding his arm. "I can go on your behalf to the meeting tomorrow. They would… understand if you were too emotional, and I would surely be allowed to-"

"No," he stopped her, "No, I will go." He had never felt more exhausted in his life. "We… we see what we can… we cannot… make a decision, not yet. But Winter..."

"Whatever you need, father, I can do it."

"No, I- Thank you. I just… thank you, Winter. You're a better daughter than an old man like me could ever deserve."

Summer never forgave herself for what she did 15 years ago. And she was more aware of her guilt today than she'd ever been before.

As she escorted Oliver and Helene Arc into the meeting room, she did everything she could not to look them in the eye. She knew they recognized her. That they remembered her, just as she remembered them, that moment inescapably burned into their minds when she took their child away from them and handed him over to a monster.

Who turned their precious little boy into a monster like her.

After finishing her work for the delegation's arrival, Summer had rushed to her daughters' dorm room at Beacon, where she flung her arms around the both of them and held them so close and wept so loudly that not even Yang protested the attention. They didn't ask what was the cause of her grief, though she figured it was easy enough to puzzle out. But she couldn't stop thinking of that family, the family she was now walking with, and the dismayed, hopeless, horrified look upon their faces, fifteen years ago.

She couldn't imagine the grief of the parents who were about to learn what had happened to the claimed. What had happened to their children.

A touch, suddenly, across her shoulder triggered her combat reflexes, but, she realized, it was Mrs. Arc, gently resting a hand on her. "We don't blame you," she said, her voice rough with emotion, and Summer had nothing to say in return, just struggling to keep her own emotions in check. "We've never blamed you. And you don't have to blame yourself."

"I..." her voice was hoarse and wordless, "I… thank you."

She felt a profound gratitude for their compassion, but she had nothing she could possibly say. So she led them to their seats and took her place in the rear of the room, with the rest of the security detail. She moved to a spot beside an Atlesian Specialist, but before she could introduce herself, a furious voice rang across the room.

"How dare you show your face here!"

Summer whirled to see Alcestis Nikos, looking every inch the tournament champion in spite of her years of retirement, as she stood and pointed a furiously trembling finger at the couple who had just entered.

King Hansa of Vacuo and his wife, Queen Musa. They wore stately robes and looks of shocked affrontement. "We… I won't stand for this accusation!" the King shouted back, "We have lost a child to this monster, the same as all of you. There is no evidence for-"

"You think that we don't know what you did? Do you think you could keep it secret? We all lost a child," Alcestis hissed, "while you kidnapped an orphan!"

"She was our daughter!" the Queen wailed, "How could we-"

"Do you think," Admetus Nikos roared back, cutting her off, "I did not agonize over-"

"People, please!" the commanding voice of General Ironwood cut through the din, "This is a matter of global importance!" He looked across the room, challenging anyone to speak up against him. Even Admetus seemed to shrink before the General's commanding presence. "This… has been a great and tragic circumstance. I cannot imagine the depths of your grief. But there are untold millions of people who are alive today because of our agreement, and it is our paramount cause to ensure that this state of things continues." Summer had to agree with that. There were still Grimm since the Separation, but their numbers were down considerably, and she was very aware that far, far fewer Huntsmen lost their lives for the cause compared to when she first got started. "Your loss has been tragic, we know that, but we cannot measure the lives we have saved in this agreement."

"And some of us," Admetus growled, "sacrificed nothing of our-"

Ironwood cut him off. "We cannot afford to give Salem," the very name seemed to draw all the air from the room, "cause to think she's been cheated. Under no circumstances—under no circumstances—is anyone here to risk the strength of the pact. Everyone here has sworn an oath to uphold the peace we created fifteen years ago, and I, along with the Committee and the Councils of Remnant, will hold you all to that oath. Am I clear?" But there were only faint murmurs from the audience. He glared. "Am I clear?"

The assembled families broke into admissions of agreement. It was not the way Summer would have hoped for this meeting to begin, but, knowing what they were about to learn, it was probably for the best to open with a call for order. As Ironwood started with the boring information, reading a series of identical statements from each Kingdom's Council (because, of course, they needed to make a point of stating their support for these families) and going over the itinerary and ground rules, Summer slumped against the wall, finally taking the time to take a breath.

"Heard you were on the welcome wagon."

She turned to the Specialist besides her and whispered back, "That information is classified."

He chuckled. "Everything about this clusterfuck is classified. That's why everything's made its way to the rumor mill."

"There's that elite Atlesian professionalism I hear so much about..."

But he didn't seem offended by the jab. "Ha, fair enough. Clover Ebi," he extended his arm for a handshake, which Summer gingerly took, "Take it you're Summer Rose? Met your associate, Branwen, last night."

Summer's vision clouded with anger. "He didn't-"

"Didn't say anything good, no. He's a pro, I'll give him that. But..." and then he gave her a teasing smile, "he couldn't resist bragging about how skilled his team was, especially you."

Summer groaned. Qrow could be a bit of a fanboy when it came to Team STRQ. Or, well, her and Tai, considering Qrow's self-esteem ranged from "self-deprecating" to "depressed." And the less said about Raven, the better. "Well, I'm glad to hear my legend continues to grow. But I'm not saying anything more on the matter."

"Fair enough, fair enough. I will say, rather like the man—wouldn't mind if you could do me a favor and put in a good word for me?" She rolled her eyes at that, but she had to admit, this Specialist Ebi's easy charm was working on her. Probably barking up the wrong tree with Qrow, though: Qrow liked morose, liked cynical, and, probably relevant judging from the little rabbit's foot dangling off his uniform, Qrow did not like superstitious, especially when it came to luck. But, honestly, it had been too long since Qrow had had a date, and he could really use something good in his life.

"I'll let him know," then she gave him a sly smile, "that there's an Atlesian agent poking around about him, and that he needs to keep his guard up."

He chuckled. He certainly was good looking, though that made him seem more like the upbeat pretty boy type that Raven was into, more than her brother. "But on business… I heard from another source," he dropped his voice even lower, "that Oz has a Maiden working with you for security."

She stiffened. Openly discussing the Maidens was a risky proposition, even with those in the know. "What, did Fria tell you?"

"You know about Fria?" he chuckled, "How unfair, you get to know about Winter while I don't get to know anything about Fall."

"Better if we keep it that way," Summer growled.

And Ebi nodded, apparently getting the hint to back off. "Alright then. But I'll tell you what I'm seeing—none of the Councils are communicating, Mistral's a mess, Vacuo's a write off, and it all adds up to going to hell in a hurry. In a worst case scenario, it's going to come to Ozpin and Ironwood, and, from what I know of the hierarchy, that means you and me."

"So you expect we'll be working together closely."

Ebi gave a grim nod. "I like it when things just work out on their own, but… I don't think any of us are gonna get lucky with this mess."

He wasn't wrong. The tension between the families was teetering on the edge of explosive, but it had nothing on the tension between the Kingdoms. Fifteen years ago, she'd hoped that, between the Separation's reduction in Grimm giving them some breathing room and the revelation of Salem's existence giving the world common enemy, this would be a tragic beginning to a new era of peace and cooperation. But between the militant factions, the appeasement factions, the swings between hopelessness, desperate paranoia, and nationalism… It was a miracle that the world could pull together well enough to coordinate this. Though she suspected that Ozpin, and her eyes went to where the, even still, mysterious headmaster was seated besides Ironwood, had a major role in that.

She looked back to Ebi. Ozpin believed in cooperation. Moreso, Ozpin believed in taking risks. "Let's have a conversation tonight. We'll introduce our teams to each other and… you can get a chance to talk more with Qrow." He grinned at that. "But I think we're coming up on the point where we're on riot control, so..."

And she looked back to Ironwood, who was right now warning the families that what they were about to see was of the highest level of secrecy until such time as the Councils authorized the information to go public. And then he clicked a button, and the families saw for the first time what their children had become.

If there was one thing they all knew how to do, it was enduring boredom. In the castle in the Grimmlands, even when they weren't being "disciplined," there was nobody around for hundreds of miles that any of them could converse with. Anyone other than Weiss could converse with, at least. They were all used to being stuck indoors for weeks at a time, waiting for Mother to change her mind on which halls were forbidden to them or for her inscrutable reasoning to finally justify letting them stretch their legs outside.

So as much as they got on each others' nerves—and Emerald felt that her siblings had a particular drive to pick on her—she'd grown up playing with Blake and Weiss and Pyrrha and Jaune as much as quarreling with them. When they were very young they used to be much busier, nervously exploring the castle or scrounging for food, and sometimes even still, when she was feeling nostalgic or stressed, Emerald would go and hunt vermin to calm her nerves. But even after Jaune had slowly convinced Mother to expand their privileges, they kept up these behaviors as little games, ways to fill time and hone their skills.

Right now, they were playing a game where Weiss would glyph summon tiny illusory Grimm and the girls were competing to pick them off with needles. It was a game they'd spent years playing, so, by now, their trick shots were getting fairly elaborate, demonstrated as Blake leapt from shadow to shadow, a spray of silver needles flying out with each pass, leaving the tiny Beowulves and Nevermores pinned to the table like butterflies for display.

"You missed one," Emerald noted, pointing to a miniature Goliath, basically a black fuzzball with two pointy white tusks, trundling its way across the table.

"Oh, did I?" Blake asked with a cocky smile… and then a needle dropped from the ceiling, spearing the pseudo-Grimm right through its back.

"An excellent shot," Pyrrha said, admiringly, "I hadn't even noticed you'd left a needle hanging in the ceiling."

Blake shrugged. "What can I say… I've got skills. So, who's following that up?"

Emerald confidently stood up, excited to try out a new technique she'd been working on, but it was at that point that Jaune came back into the room. Glancing at the table strewn with needles he cocked an eye at them. "Bored already?" he asked.

"No," Blake replied, "we're-"

"Super, SUPER bored!" Weiss loudly complained. "What am I supposed to do all day when I'm not even supposed to use magic?"

Emerald was sympathetic—they all were, really, because they were all so bored—but it was Pyrrha who, surprisingly, backed her up. "This has been… a trial, my Prince." She exhaled, and Emerald realized she had been sharpening a sword from her armory on her arm plates, something she only did when she was really on edge. "I hope we won't be cooped up so much longer?"

Jaune quickly glanced around the room, looking to each of them in turn to see what their attitude was. He did it every time he needed to make a decision, but Emerald always appreciated it. Jaune wasn't a tyrant; he always paid attention to what they were thinking, even when Emerald didn't feel like she knew what to do. And that meant the world to her.

Jaune and Ms. Fall were the only two people who made Emerald feel noticed. Yes, she was the Shrike: it was her job not to be seen, to be the lurker in the shadows, to only be known by a trail of blood, but that was such a lonely existence, and she felt so small next to her sisters. She wasn't as strong as Pyrrha, as smart as Blake, as powerful as Weiss… but Jaune and Ms. Fall made her feel like she was still important, like she still contributed. She couldn't wait until they were married, and then, as Ms. Fall's #2—actually, Mrs. Jaune's #2—she'd finally have a place for herself in her family.

Jaune cracked a weak smile. "Well, I can't say I have great news on that front, but, at least, Ms. Fall and I were able to keep things on schedule despite the… abruptness of our appearance." Of course they did. Ms. Fall could do anything. "So Parents Night will still be happening tomorrow, and, if all goes well, we're actually set to attend some classes at Beacon!"

She could feel the excitement pass through the room. More for the classes: they were all quite eager to demonstrate their skills against actual Huntsmen, even if they were only students. Parents Night was… Emerald was sure it would go fine.

Jaune continued. "Tomorrow, we'll be meeting with our former families. I expect this may be a difficult and emotional experience-"

"Why?"

Emerald looked over to Weiss incredulously, and then realized… yeah, Weiss probably didn't understand what any of them were experiencing. Least of all what Emerald was experiencing, thinking of seeing… of seeing the Royal Family, her… original parents. Weiss was rarely all there, and probably didn't remember having any family other than them.

Blake put a comforting arm on Weiss's shoulder. "Sometimes… we remember what things were like before… and we feel sad."

"Oh." Weiss looked down, "I get sad sometimes."

"I know you do," Blake pulled her into a hug, "We all do."

It was… nice to see Blake like this. Sure, she could be bossy and annoying, but Blake really cared for them. She was the Hawk, not just aware of threats against them, but also, she was always the first one to know when one of them was feeling down, and would give quiet reassurance. She really did have good advice, a lot of the time. And she agreed with Emerald that Ms. Fall and Jaune were totally into each other and just hiding it to keep Pyrrha from getting jealous.

With Weiss mollified, Jaune kept the meeting going. "Order is going to be Blake and Pyrrha meeting the Belladonna and Nikos families first. Then Emerald and I will meet the Vacuos and the Arcs, and finally, Weiss, you will meet with the Schnee family."

"Do I hafta be Nice Weiss?"

Jaune looked pained as he debated his options. It was easy enough to see it was a lose-lose situation. On the one hand, Nice Weiss would have much lower risk of catastrophe. On the other, nobody wanted to tell Weiss she had to wear her persona while meeting her family. Emerald would have told her to, but that was because she believed in efficiency. "It… would help. But you can… do whatever you need to do, Weiss."

"Okay..." she nodded, "And I'm not spose'ta break anyone tomorrow," she recited, "or for the rest of the trip."

"I think that goes for all of us," Blake added, to which Pyrrha snorted her disapproval, and even Emerald had to smile at that. She and Pyrrha exchanged smiles, and Emerald felt like it was a sign that things were cool between them after their tiff last night. Which was good. Everything was really tense right now with the family stuff and all the rumors and Emerald really just needed things to go well. And Pyrrha not being mad at her was a really good thing.

Especially with… tomorrow. She squeezed her eyes shut, like she always did when she was worried. A childhood tic, she'd spent a few weeks convinced that if she just didn't see anything, it couldn't see her either and so… it had taken all of her siblings to make her feel safe enough to open her eyes again. But she still, sometimes, reverted to her childhood fears when she was stressed. Ms. Fall told her that she didn't have to be afraid, that she was the Shrike, and far scarier than anything she might ever go up against, so she opened her eyes back up and puffed out her chest. Jaune was going over the itinerary, but she'd already seen it—she'd been there when Ms. Fall prepared it, and she had been very helpful. Ms. Fall had told her so herself. She could be brave. She'd see her… see the King and Queen tomorrow. And she'd recognize them and they'd recognize her because… because she was their daughter.

She had to be.

Stunned to get over a hundred follows for the first chapter—thank you for all your kind words, support, and readership! And I'm excited to go further into this story and explore more of how characters have been changed by this setting. Jacques Schnee realized too late how meaningless the pursuit of money was, Summer Rose survived and is a total badass on top of being Supermom, and Emerald is pretty different from her canon characterization, but I think she might be my favorite of the children to write (though it's a tough contest!).

Thanks to Renarde and DanishVulkanHestan for feedback on the chapter. Talking with Danish about his work "Sol Invictus" was actually part of how the tone of this story developed, so consider checking it out!