AN: So this is my first RWBY fic. Mistakes were made and now I'm writing a fanfiction, go figure. Feedback is greatly appreciated, and I just want you to know that I love your eyes today.

Cinder Fall stood by the mirror, and silently cursed at the clock ticking away in the corner.

Currently, she was sitting in a chair that was just a little too well used, but one she refused to give it up on the grounds that she'd need to break in a new one if she replaced it. She held a letter in her hand, the first letter she could actually remember receiving. She'd had packages or verbal messages delivered plenty of times, but the idea of a piece of paper with words on it had just completely slipped her mind until one sat in her hands last month. It was emblazoned with the official seal of the Vale council, and an old sigil Cinder hadn't seen in years: Beacon academy. She'd read and reread the letter several times; after leaving it in her otherwise-empty mailbox for nearly a week out of sheer spite. By this point she could probably create a perfect forgery by memory alone.

Dear Ms. Fall

I have a proposition for you, but seeing as your current living situation leaves you beyond easy correspondence, I will be coming to visit in person to discuss it with you. I will be in and about the region near the end of the month.

-Jaune Arc, Beacon Academy.

It was short, almost sweet, and practically rolled off her mental tongue.

Cinder hated that letter.

The letter was almost parental in how it presented the fact that Cinder still lived where she did. There was no 'please reply to ensure we have the right address', just a 'we know you're still where we left you'. Jaune Arc had never been that self-assured. He had once been the sorriest excuse for a fighter Cinder had ever seen; and she knew Arthur Watts. But had thrown that yoke off by the last time Cinder had seen him something like two decades ago. Age had apparently brought confidence for him, or at least whoever wrote his letters.

Not sure just when in the day the man in question was supposed to arrive, Cinder took the chance to get up from her long suffering seat and ensure she wasn't a total mess in the tall mirror hanging in her bedroom.

She looked… Okay . She'd looked far better once. Back then, she still had two arms to call her own. The scars that littered her body—including the one that spanned her entire left side from ankle to ear—really didn't bother her so much these days, though she still generally preferred hiding them when the climate allowed. The tunic she wore was irritatingly local . It lived somewhere between a robe and a heavy jacket, ensuring protection from the nipping chill of eastern Vale's late autumn while still sporting a distinct Mistrali flair thanks to Cinder's personal touches. Her coal-black hair lacked it's former health and shine though another victim of geography and logistics.

But it was her eye, her singular amber eye, that stood out to her today. It had once shone with defiance and power, barely containing the power of what Cinder had thought of as gods. But today, so long after her Magical powers had been stripped away and her defiance crushed alongside, her single eye just looked tired.

Her left sleeve hung knotted and empty at her side, pairing with her similarly-lopsided haircut to ooze 'off-balance' to anyone looking at her. Cinder had considered obtaining a prosthetic replacement for her arm on multiple occasions, but every time realized just how limited her budget was, subsisting off a few odd jobs and—she shuddered just thinking the word— charity . The rest of her body had been well maintained, though. Cinder hadn't swung a blade in decades, but she still kept up the routine of habitual exercise; aided by the simple existence of an unlocked aura, and antagonized by the extremely limited ingredients available to her.

Fed up with the powerless woman in the mirror, Cinder's gaze inched its way to a calendar stuck to her refrigerator. More specifically it moved to today's date. It was odd, having any kind of planned event or forewarning beyond daily repetition. The last thing to have broken the monotony of village life was the small envelope delivered to her via a… mailman .

Even the simple memory of the letter made Cinder send one more silent curse at the tiny little town she'd been holed up in for the better part of twenty years. Physical mail, inane gossip— Seriously, not even so much as a saucy rumor surrounding the Faunus baby born to the Ulys family last year! 'donor is an old family friend' my ass! —and probably worst of all: the sheer, unadulterated contentment that pervaded the entire settlement. It wasn't a condition Cinder shared, made blatantly obvious by the increased grimm activity on her side of town. The beasts knew to keep their distance from the truly important structures though. Cinder had made sure of that the first time the shadowy creatures had so much as left a footprint in her poor attempt at an herb garden.

There was just far too much to hate in this awful little town, but there was a reason Cinder had never dared leave it. For all the vapidly positive strangers, and the lack of proper seasonings. At the very least, there was one Cinder deterrent this town didn't possess within its ramshackle walls:

Ruby Rose.

The same Ruby Rose who, barely a week after saving the world from utter destruction at the hands of the Brother Gods, stripping Cinder of her Magic, and defeating Salem (all in the span of a single day), had decided to drop Cinder's unconscious body in this stupid cottage. Tucked into bed with the property deed on the nightstand along with a letter and a pitcher of water. Even worse was that it wasn't some act or character she wore for greater acclaim; Ruby Rose actually believed that telling the gods responsible for her very existence to 'Go lick a nevermore!' was reasonable, and what anyone else would have done.

Ruby Rose terrified Cinder like nothing else in existence.

But what didn't terrify Cinder was the man who was supposedly in town today, roughly a month after Cinder had received his letter. She'd only learned he was nearby when the idle gossip of the old hens in town—not to be confused with the Verdan family, who happened to be young, happy, and of all things, chicken Faunus—turned from daily life to the apparently quite handsome huntsman making his way towards them. Tales of his blond hair, startlingly white armor, and impressive endurance had all become commonplace in the past week.

Cinder fall didn't fear the man who matched her memory of Jaune Arc, but she did wonder just what this deal of his was about. Why had he reached out to her in the name of a newly-reopened Beacon Academy, official down to the very letterhead? Why was he bothering with Cinder at all? They'd only tried to kill one another a handful of times all told—and in her old life that had all the significance of a casual handshake Was it just to rub salt in the wound that was her current life? Maybe let her reclaim some lost dignity by killing her in a fit of rage?

Still, it wasn't as if Cinder had anything else to do today, so she made her way away from the mirror, choosing to wait in her favorite chair for the arrival of her guest. To pass the time, she flipped open an honest-to-Maidens soul-wrenchingly bad romance novel she'd…. aquired from the last trade caravan to pass through. So, Cinder waited.

And soon enough, there came a polite knock at the door. Making her way over, Cinder allowed herself one last moment of hesitation. The questions that had filled her heard earlier oddly silent, anticipation and anxiety ruled her nerves equally. Cinder was jolted out of her mental rut by another knock at her door. Finally deciding it was time to get this ordeal over with and swung the door wide open.

On the other side stood none other than the promised Jaune Arc, doing his best to look disarming and friendly. "Cinder Fall, I'd like to make you a deal."

The door slammed shut before Cinder had time to question why she'd done it.

Cinder questioned so many things about her life.

Foremost, she questioned just how different her life might have been had she attained the power she craved. What would have actually happened? If all went to plan, Cinder had intended to achieve immortality, or at the very least a long successful life of dictatorship followed by a death-by-pleasure in her personal harem. Magic but a strain on one's body unfortunately, and she wondered if her body could even contain the power of two maidens combined, let alone four. Maybe Salem or Ozpin would have known, but Cinder doubted they ever would have shared that information willingly.

Salem was a whole separate bag of worms. If Cinder had never accepted her promise of power in the first place, what would her life have been? Where would Cinder, the lone survivor of a Grimm-ravaged village, have ended up? There was a very real chance she'd be dead a thousand times over from starvation or being caught up in a war she'd never know anything about, but she was thinking hypothetically. Or, in a different world, would she have joined a combat school, chosen to find happiness in fighting grimm and saving lives? Would that have been a happy life?

In the more recent past, power had brought her fleeting happiness. Like a drug she had sought out the highs of weidling her power over the heads of others. Those who followed by choice, or those who stood in her path were both subject to her whims and fits. But she had been alone at what she thought was the top, and had thought that was what true power was.

Her past self was an idiot.

Her present self? The Jury was still out.

For the time being, Cinder was striding back onto the school grounds she had once been instrumental in the destruction of. Now it was restored to full working order, and nearly empty. It was early summer, and Cinder assumed that classes had just let out for the semester. The heat was bearable to her, but then Cinder had experienced kinds of heat few others ever could; Vale sunlight had nothing on the pain a grimm felt when burned away by silver eyes.

The deal Jaune had offered, it turned out, was not to run Cinder through with a rusty spoon covered in barnacles. It was, instead, the very last thing Cinder had expected.

Amnesty.

A political forgiveness, of sorts. Promised redemption, and a surefire way out of that little backwater she'd called home for so long. Also not being arrested and publicly executed on sight by the Kingdoms, that was definitely an upside.

It had been nearly six months since the blond-haired, blue-eyed idiot had first come to visit her in exile. She had immediately turned him away that day. Not even letting him finish his sentence. But after months and months of regular visits every third weekend—sometimes with a gaggle of academy-aged children and sometimes carrying odd tools and weapons—Jaune had worn her down by just… being nice. Him, and any entourage he might bring, would help repair her slowly-deteriorating cottage. Replacing fences, restocking her pantry, attending to her herbs, and just generally helping her around the house. having one arm and half the range of vision most people enjoyed really did a number on one's ability to live independently... or at least sweep effectively.

Much to Cinder's consternation, Jaune did eventually wear her down enough to listen. And apparently a bit more than that as she was now being escorted along the pathways of Beacon and getting the full mission statement all at once.

"It's taken a while, but even after everything we did the world needs people willing to help defend against the Grimm or stopping... people like you. To do that most will need training, and the best training comes from instructors who know what they're talking about." Jaune explained as they entered the grounds he once called home.

"So, what? You expect me to teach a horde of hormonal monsters the terrors of accepting deals from nefarious secret organizations? 'How to subvert a terrorist organization and influence people'? Oh, why not a class on how to avoid infusing yourself with ancient, dangerous Magic for a chance at greater, ultimately fleeting power?" Each question came out more and more vitriolic than Cinder had intended.

Jaune laughed. He actually, full on, earnestly laughed at that. "Unfortunately 'Subversion and Infiltration' is already fully staffed, and while we're still looking for a head of the Archeology department, I somehow think that isn't quite up your alley. You also lack teaching credentials and experience." Oh look, the jury's back: 'Definitely an idiot'.

Cinder really needed to figure out if Jaune knew she was joking and played into it, or really was that clueless. Either way, him pointing out her lack of 'real-world' skills stung just a bit.

"To get past that there's a few hurdles, one being we have to prove you're not going to lead a coup with your students, or kill them,"

Cinder considered the idea of leading an army of children for a moment longer than she ever had before. She had issues, sure, but her age limit for targets was strictly half-her-age-plus-seven: nobody liked a creep. "Don't worry, I learned my lesson after Mercury and Emerald. The time investment for training a loyal disciple is rarely worth it."

Jaune looked nonplussed, but did his best to move on. Leaving the courtyard to enter a large hall by way of a large set of wooden doors, Cinder took a moment to enjoy the sudden addition of properly cooled air after the heat outside. "Then you'd have to prove to your coworkers you know what you're doing. That should be relatively easy, assuming you aren't too rusty with your Semblance these days."

Unfortunately, Cinder was exactly 'too rusty' at the moment. She could manipulate small-d-dust still, but so much of her versatility had been tied to Maiden Magic that she really hadn't done much to stay in practice. Luckily semblance usage was practically instinctual after long enough using it though, she'd probably be able to assemble a rough glass shard again with just an hour of practice.

Coming to a large circular foyer connecting four long hallways, Jaune finally stopped walking and turned to face Cinder. "Finally, and here's the part I know you won't like, the council wants you to have a stake in something local. A bit of insurance you're not going to rampage through the city indiscriminately. Again." Jaune seemed the most nervous about that particular caveat. Odd.

Cinder narrowed her eye questioningly. "What kind of 'stake'? Do they want me to start a small business? How about a nice cafe? I can serve all sorts of unique blends and go up against corporate giants with the help of my ragtag group of friends and the local mafia," Cinder said, maybe a bit too seriously.

"Well, that is one possibility," Jaune answered. "But I'm not sure you have the lien for it. If you decide to go that route. Plus with whatever role you're expected to fulfill under your, we call them handlers, here you would need a full staff able to run it most days without you."

The level of detail in that answer was… oddly specific. Cinder had meant it as a joke, but maybe there was a history of that sort of thing.

"Realistically, you only have a handful of options that don't involve lots of money or some kind of intrusive monitoring device." He held up a finger "Your first option is the students here. Teach alongside a supervisor for a few years. Make friends with the students. Worry about if they're doing well after graduation. Be generally empathetic."

Cinder could feel the bile rising already. "Absolutely not."

"Before I explain the others, I should tell you. Emerald and Mercury were both offered the same deal with the same options; Mercury accepted the first." —What could possibly be so bad that Mercury of all people decided to work with children?— "and Emerald went with option two: Going through civilian higher-education. But a lot like the 'start a small business' plan, that needs a sponsor or some way to pay for it. Like a job here at Beacon for instance.."

"So, that option's right out unless I happen to either be a genius or find myself a sugar daddy."

Jaune nodded apologetically. "Given your history of clandestine operations, Atlas may be able to give you a scholarship for signing on with them. Experience tells me that the regimented, disciplinarian lifestyle under an authority figure wouldn't agree with you." Cinder could only nod in agreement.

"So what's the dreaded third option?" she asked.

Jaune sighed as he prepared to answer the question. "The third option is… kinda difficult for most people to just do . And was created to allow recent recipients of the Amnesty who successfully built new lives not need to start over so abruptly."

Losing her patience as the so-far-so-confident man's hesitation, Cinder's temper flared. "Well? Spit it out already."

"You'd need a family."

Well, that was probably never happening. Cinder was not a 'settle down' kind of woman. Kids were right out. Jaune did say it was intended more for those who... weren't her. "So, teaching under a handler it is. At least tell me I'm not going to be working under some ancient, overweight librarian. I do have standards."

Jaune waved his hand in dismissal. "Nothing like that. You're a proven threat, Cinder. Your handler has to be able to, well, handle you. Luckily, the primary candidate chosen for you is in their classroom right now, let's go tell them the good news." Jaune turned down a different hall than the one they had entered from with a suspiciously happy hop in his stride.

Cinder, resigned to her fate by now, followed. The walk down the so very Vale grand hallway was quick and mercifully silent, the only thing of any real interest to look at was the occasional window overlooking the Forever Fall and the rather well-muscled shoulders of the man leading Cinder past them.

Coming to a stop at one of the many otherwise identical doors, Jaune rapped on the thick wood before stepping back at the muffled sound of a clatter on the other side.

A solid thunk rattled the door as the occupant impacted at a decent clip before swinging open into the hall. Cinder's view was obstructed of just who was on the other side. Her hearing, less so.

A spine-chillingly familiar voice emanated from within the classroom. "Owwww… Who's even here this late? It's summer break, go home."

"Ruby," Jaune said, opening the door the rest of the way. "I have someone you should meet"

Sweet Maidens. I should have gone with the military.

Ruby Rose. The person who Cinder hated most in all the world—and feared most, besides—came practically bouncing out of the classroom. Before crashing into Jaune in a tight hug.

"Jaune! Welcome back. How was the hunt? Did you try the new dust rounds? How was the balance? Does the aim still drift to the left? Hi Cinder. Was the recoil to much? Should I realign the firing pin?" The questions came like the popping grease of frying bacon, Ruby barely even stopped for air as she inspected the weapon Jaune had offered to her.

Her short red hair was a completely unprofessional mop trying its best to live its dream of being an anemone. She was startlingly well dressed, otherwise. A pair of boots, sturdy yet uniquely stylish, ran up her shins. Tights ran up into her skirt—multilayered combat variety, of course. An extremely well-polished snowflake sat on her belt buckle with a variety of pouches and slots accompanying along its dark brown length, with what appeared to be a strip of ribbon wound securely between them. A black corset and red cloak rounded out the strange trip down memory lane.

Ruby Rose looked practically identical to the last day Cinder had seen her. It infuriated her that time seemed to outright ignore the silver-eyed woman. She still looked ready to turn heads and lead armies, while Cinder's own appeal had fallen from its previous perfection.

She was still beautiful, of course. But burns, scars, and missing limbs did not a flawless figure make.

"Ruby, it worked great, I'll get you the report later. Right now you should say hello to your new Assistant." Jaune gestured her way.

Glancing up from the weapon "Huh? I already did. Still not sure if the drift is a counterbalance or a seating issue." Turning towards Cinder, Ruby offered a handshake. "Hey Cinder, welcome back to Beacon."

Accepting the hand, Cinder didn't know if she had ever been more confused. This was the same person who had, the last time Cinder had seen her; forcibly burned a parasite made of pure negativity out of her body. Brushed off the gods. Saved humanity, and left Cinder to rot in that stupid little town with its babies and mailmen.

And still, here Ruby stood, smiling without a single shred of malice.

She didn't even attempt to shake hands with her own dominant hand first; she offered the one Cinder could correctly shake. It had taken Cinder a literal year to adapt to not having an arm there, and here was her worst enemy adapting so quickly there wasn't any hesitation in which hand to use.

Cinder might hate her more now than she did atop Beacon's tower as her left side was being burned away in holy fire.

"I'm glad you're doing well, I know you'll do your best by my students," Ruby said. Cinder searched for anything—the slightest flash in the woman's eyes to betray the mask she had to be wearing, but there was nothing. "I can do a lot with solid weapons, but once it's semblance-based I can really only direct my students towards old videos or pictures. A lot of the best quality ones feature you, at least in the school's records." She admits her weakness so easily. What kind of unholy abomination is Ruby really?

"I hate you." Cinder let slip

"Do you want a new arm? I know it's rude to ask, but if you had your balance back, it might be better for combat-oriented lessons. We can whip you up a temporary one with the facilities on campus, but it might take a bit for a fully functional one to get made."

Cinder questioned so many things about her life.

A/N:

Well, there it is, Chapter 1 rewritten with my current knowledge and not just slapped together in a day. Hope you all see this and go "hey, this fic seems fun." because that's what I strive for, entertaining with my hobby.