Yang tried to be silent. Yet she really, really wanted to scream.

Not with anger or shock or rage or anything negative. She wasn't disgusted or frightened or worried or terrified. If anything she was the opposite of those things.

Her heart was thundering so loudly in her chest she almost didn't hear the cute sound of Jaune's soft, tired breathing as he slumbers next to her in her arms.

She held back a squeal of unadulterated joy as she felt the warm body heat of her mate pressed against her. She had worried he may not respond to her feelings for a while now, but this solidified her knowledge that Jaune was her mate and that such a decision was the right one.

After all, just look at the cute little dribble at the corner of his mouth! Sleeping Jaune was so cute!

She held her mate tighter, burying her head into his back and sighing contentedly. If Salem dared to barge in on them and ruin her morning there would be nothing stopping Yang from tearing the witch to pieces, which Yang intended to do anyway.

Afterall, if Salem had been able to have her way then Jaune would not be with Yang right now, and that thought alone almost ruined her good mood.

Almost. She was resting with her mate after all.

She didn't know when Jaune had decided to join her in the bed she had wound up in, nor did she know how she got there. She remembered passing out after using the last of her Fire to make sure Jaune was okay, and she imagined that either Jaune or her Uncle Qrow had brought her here. She enjoyed that idea either way, though part of her wouldn't have minded if Jaune was unable to due to him needing to recover from all the things Salem had done to his mind. It meant her mate would rest and recover sooner and her Uncle Qrow had wanted to and had done something nice for her, proving he did actually want to be her uncle and hadn't simply sought her out because he wanted her to be the Lord of Dragons.

Jaune mumbled in his sleep, and Yang nodded her head in agreement with whatever he said. She was thinking too hard. What was the point in ruining her good mood thinking about how horrible the world was when she could simply bask in the presence of her mate?

So bask she did.

Except she had recovered well enough from sapping her Fire saving Jaune to feel hungry…but she didn't want to leave the bed…but her belly felt like it was going to rumble…but cuddling was so nice…

It was a dilemma, one Yang did not know how to solve. Food was so nice…and she wanted it so much! But so was this…and she didn't know which she preferred more.

Jaune yawned, and Yang leaned up, resting her chin on his shoulder, watching him curiously as he started to rouse. His face was scrunched up adorably, as if he was trying to fight the urge to wake up, and after noticing the way his hair brushed whenever she breathed she decided to tease him a little. She leaned over, cuddling him together and suddenly freezing as she realised how close her lips were his. She had only intended to blow on his cheek to see if it would startle him, and instead she found herself practically draped over him, lips puckered and hovering near his own.

Jaune's eyes blinked open blearily, and Yang knew she needed to back down whilst she could. This didn't look good, and there were only wrong ways to take this. She loved her mate, but she didn't want to pressure him into doing things he wasn't ready for. She refused to emulate her mother in any way, and if that meant waiting seventy years before they kissed, so be it.

…though considering they were cuddling already maybe he wouldn't mind?

"Yang?" Jaune yawned, before his eyes shot open. "Y-Yang?!"

"J-Jaune!" Yang exclaimed back, as if she was merely trying to greet him jubilantly.

Then her belly roared. Jaune blinked and stared at her. Yang felt heat trickle up her neck to her ears and her face burn with embarrassment.

'The only thing that could make this worse is if Uncle Qrow saw this.' Yang thought, casting a nervous eye around the room to make sure that wasn't the case.

"Were you…You weren't going to eat me were you?" Jaune asked, a seemingly amused smile on his face. Yang flushed with even more embarrassment.

"N-No?"

"Why does that sound like a question more than an answer?"

"No? I mean no!"

"Okay then. I'm too tired to really process this so how about we try and find some breakfast?"

"Sounds good." Yang nodded. Jaune stared at her. Yang tilted her head curiously back at him

"Uhm…are you going to let me get up?"

"Y-Yes!" Yang blurted out, leaping back and shoving him forward with her hands as she realised she hadn't stopped cuddling him through the ordeal. She was so embarrassed that she forgot her own strength however, and she winced as Jaune yelped before tumbling to the floor with a thud. "Sorry!"

"It's alright." Jaune replied, voice muffled by the floorboards. "You did save me after all. I…Thank you for that."

"I told you." Yang beamed down at him, head lolling over the side of the bed as he rolled onto his side. "Always."

Jaune smiled softly at her, and Yang felt her hands dig deeper into the sheets at the sight that sent her heart thundering once more.

"That is sickeningly adorable."

"Are sure you aren't my brother? You share his talent for ruining the mood."

"Well aren't you just hilarious."

Yang yelped and jumped into her feet on the bed, fists armed and ready to punch the intruders. Jaune screamed and stumbled onto his feet, swinging his arms wildly for a moment as if he was under attack.

Yang's eyes settled on a familiar sword and shield propped up on a chair nearby.

"You two!" She growled, and Jaune just sighed.

"I thought you two were asleep or inactive or…whatever it is tired Gods and talking swords do."

"We were." The sword replied, and Yang found herself glaring at it. She remembered what Jaune had said in his mind. The sword and Jaune were hiding something from her, though Jaune may not remember what considering what had happened to him.

"But we rest quicker than Humans and Dragons do." The shield said, pulsating with an ambient golden light. Yang did not like it, but its scent was more pleasant than the God of Darkness had been and Crocea Mors was. "Though admittedly I am worried I am not yet strong enough to be of much use for the battles to come. We must reach the Forgeway, and soon."

"Not now." Yang interrupted, turning towards Jaune. He looked tired still, despite an air of refreshness around him she hoped came from cuddling.

She wanted him to like it as much as she did after all.

"Agreed." Jaune nodded, and she beamed at him, not seeing his teasing smile. "If we aren't careful and get a certain someone breakfast she'll be likely to eat all of us."

"No I wouldn't…" Yang grumbled, and the shield let out a soft sigh. Yang thought it would fight their decision for a moment, but it spoke again.

"Very well. You will need your own strength too. My apologies." The sword said, sounding sincere enough. Yang still wasn't sure if she trusted it or not. "There is a corridor outside. Follow it to the right and stop when you see the big doors, inside will be the Great Hall. Ozma's people will be having breakfast there. I'd advise you to leave us here. Bringing weapons to breakfast may worry them, as they won't recognise you until you introduce yourself."

"Sounds good, thanks." Jaune nodded, stepping over to the door. Yang jumped off the bed and followed him as he stepped outside and shut the bedroom door after her. "I haven't really thought about that…do people even know we're here? Are we even allowed to be here?"

"Not a clue." Yang shrugged. "But they aren't providing me food to eat before they kick us out if they intend to do so or I'll roast them."

"I'm sure they'll be clever enough to not annoy the person capable of turning this place to little more than ash and cinders if wronged so egregiously." Jaune replied, seeming amused by her sternness at the dark thought of being denied sweet, succulent food. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Am I?!" Yang exclaimed, giving Jaune an incredulous look. "I wasn't the one who had a blasted witch try and kill me with my own mind and use my body as a puppet!"

"You were the one to save the idiot that happened to though." Jaune replied, eyes darting to her arm. Yang grabbed it suddenly, feeling the phantom pain of a stump instead of her arm for a moment. She shook her head. Jaune was the one who needed care after what happened, not herself. "You're the one to save the idiot from the clutches of the witch and even his own insanity, and you were hurt in the process. So tell me, and tell me true, are you alright?"

"I will be." Yang replied honestly after a moment's pause, refusing to look at him and walking steadfastly ahead, knowing she would get lost in his worried, caring gaze otherwise. "I have you with me, so I'll be fine."

"I hope so." Jaune replied softly, and she turned to see a troubled look on his face. "I'm worried I'm not entirely…whole."

"I will go there again if needs be." Yang declared firmly, and Jaune shook his head.

"It's not that bad, I just feel weird. It's odd, but not bad." Jaune chewed on his cheek as he thought for a moment, a frown on his face. "I suppose I don't have much choice in the matter. I'm the champion of the Brothers now."

"I'd protect you from even them if I had to." Yang declared, chest puffing proudly. She didn't doubt it wouldn't be a hard fight, but a sword and a shield didn't compare even to the power and fury of Jaune's own Rage. If she survived that monster, she could survive anything.

"I know." Jaune smiled, and Yang beamed at him. The assurance her mate had in her abilities to protect them made her heart soar, and she ended up practically skipping ahead of him with joy. She did not hear the words muttered under his breath afterwards. "That's what worries me."

"Did you say something?"

"Nothing important." Jaune replied, though he was clearly troubled by something. Yang felt her hackles raise. He was lying to her. Was it about the sword? What else could he be concealing from her?

No. She would trust Jaune. She would trust her mate. She had to.

She only had Uncle Qrow otherwise.

They walked on in silence, but froze when a giant of a man rounded a corner suddenly and nearly knocked into them. Jaune paled, and Yang felt her hands curl into fists as the man startled and regarded them with a calm expression.

"My apologies for nearly running into you." The man said as he bowed, voice gravelly. He had a rugged look to him, but there was a definitive tiredness lining his face and stooping his shoulders that made Yang wonder just how hard the people her Uncle Qrow knew worked. "I take it you two are headed for breakfast?"

"We are." Jaune replied tersely, and Yang was almost taken aback by the hostility in his tone. "Were you just returning from it oathbreaker?"

The man stiffened, and the glint in his eyes that replaced his tiredness screamed of danger to Yang's senses.

"How do you know me boy?" The giant rumbled, and Yang found herself shifting so she could better protect Jaune if they came to blows. The giant noticed, and Yang did not appreciate the pitying look he gave her. "You are far too young to have survived what I did to my Brothers at the Order, and I do not recognise your face."

"I am Jaune Arc, I saw you fighting at a tourney at Vulcan once when I was a ward of King Jacques." Jaune replied tersely. "I remember wanting to grow up to be as strong and good as a knight you were."

"Then I apologise for ruining your dreams boy, if you ended up stooping so low as to follow the wizard and the Brothers."

"I follow neither. Salem forced me into this."

"She is a benevolent liege Jaune Arc. You would be wiser submitting to her rule."

"Is that why you butchered the men who called you brother in cold blood?"

"What I did to the Order of Drachentöter had no bearing on my lady's plans. If anything it hampered them. I imagine she would have a great need for dragonslayers in the war to come."

The giant glanced at Yang, who stiffened as she remembered knights in armour and with swords that cut through her scales driving her away from a temporary refuge. Jaune stood forward forcibly, taking Yang aback. Without weapons and armour he was at a disadvantage yet…was…was he trying to protect her?

Her heart fluttered with delight despite the circumstances.

"Why did you do it then?" Jaune demanded, glaring openly at the man with muscles the size of her head. "I saw you at the feast afterwards at that tourney. I did not see you for an unreasonable psychopath you seem to have turned out to be."

"That's because while I may consort with them, I am not one myself." The giant snorted mirthlessly. "I killed my brothers because they sought to prevent me from renouncing my oaths and seeking revenge on the wizard."

"And what great act of evil spurred you to such violence that you killed your brothers for it?"

"The wizard killed my sister."

Jaune stiffened, and Yang glanced at him, noting the conflicted look on his face. She reached out, grabbing his hand and squeezing it gently, remembering the pain she had felt when Ruby had betrayed her and their sisterhood.

She imagined Jaune felt that right now. As did the giant who was an oathbreaker.

"I am sorry for your loss." Jaune said honestly, and the giant inclined his head.

"And I yours." The giant replied. "I have a mission here, and even if I am loath to fulfil it I will do so. The Queen promises me vengeance and a world where I can see my sister's smile once more. Are you going to assist in creating that, or am I going to have to kill you before you can try and stop it?"

The two men stared at one another with blank faces that Yang knew would end with blood being spilled. She trusted her own strength, but Jaune was a Human. He needed his armour and sword, yet he had none, and the giant before them looked strong enough to break bones with a mere punch.

"Blake." Jaune gritted out, face contorted into a look of black fury that made the giant clench his fast. "Blake Belladonna. Do you know her?"

"How do you know that name?" The giant rumbled, a black look entering his eyes. "You clearly aren't friends if your tone is indicative of anything. I should hope, considering who you are the son of, that it is not because of her heritage?"

"I couldn't give less of a shit about whether she has another set of ears or a tail or claws." Jaune spat. "She met me on the road and manipulated me into thinking of her as a friend. Then she cut my throat as a sacrifice to the witch you now serve, for a similar promise to that which you seek."

"She brought back her parents." The giant said softly, in what was probably the closest thing to a gasp from the mountainous man.

"Salem brought back corpses that tore Blake Belladonna to pieces, ensuring she died screaming as the husk of her mother and father devoured her alive." Jaune spat, and the giant staggered back as if physically struck. "Do you not think Salem would do the same to you once she has won?"

"Blake…oh you sweet, fool girl." The giant sighed. "To demand a reward so shortly after the sacrifice was foolish. Salem can only grant our wishes once the world is created anew due to the corruption present in this one."

"Are you truly so stupid as to believe that?" Jaune hissed, and Yang stared at him worriedly. She had seen his Rage in his Dreamscape, and she worried now that what she saw before was not Jaune but the anger that had nearly destroyed him. "No, you are just deluded. You know the only way you will ever see your sister again is in the Otherworld, yet your deeds have guaranteed you will never see her again even then. You are destined for hellfire and brimstone, whilst your sister will sit in green fields and stare out at the beauty around her, wondering why her brother never returned to her."

The giant bellowed and lashed out suddenly. Yang's eyes widened and she leapt forward, but she was too slow for the man who moved with a speed his mass belied. Jaune's head jerked back, crackling with white light, and he was sent flying down the air until he skidded against the ground and rolled several feet onto his side.

"Jaune!" Yang exclaimed, rushing towards him. She yelled with pain when the mountain man grabbed her by her long hair and yanked her back. She stumbled, feet unbalanced, and winced when his legs cracked against her knees, sending her tumbling to the floor. The man's eyes were filled with a furious rage that made his eyes glassy and distant. He was rage-mad, just like Jaune's Rage had been, and Yang rolled away from him as foot stomped down on where her head had been.

The man was strong, far stronger than even a man his side could be. She rolled onto her feet, quickly retreating as the man barrelled towards her, swinging his rock-sized hands at her. She did not fancy seeing if her Amator form could take the blows that had sent Jaune flying, and she could not embrace her Pugnator form without killing anyone nearby through collapsing the building. Her mind flashed to Jaune, laying still nearby, and with a roar she lashed out with a blow that could puncture through a man's ribs and pulverise his lungs.

The giant grunted with annoyance and landed a punch to her stomach that sent her keeling over, air bursting from her lungs violently. His hands slammed into her back, sending her sprawling onto the floor, and she started to realise far too late that this was a man strong in his own right and loyal to Salem, a witch powerful enough to challenge Gods for their divinity. She could have easily augmented this man's powers with her own, and Yang cursed herself for not realising so soon.

The man screamed animalistically, and Yang waited for death.

A death that didn't come.

It took her dazed, shocked mind far too long than it should have to realise the scream came from someone with a voice far less rumblier than the mountain man, and she looked up through watery eyes to see Jaune wailing into the mountain man with less form than a toddler learning to walk. He did not strike with precision or skill, just a blind fury that seemed to take the mountain man aback.

"You will not touch her!" Jaune roared, fist cracking against the mountain man's jaw and sending his head jerking to the left. "You will not take her from me! You've taken my family! My home! You tried taking my soul and my body! You will not take Yang!"

Yang merely blinked as white light sparked over Jaune's hands every time he hit the giant, who let out pained grunts. She noticed green light would spark and fizzle wherever Jaune struck, clashing against his white Aura, and Yang wondered if that was the reason why the mountain man had been able to take her blows as easily as one resists a gentle breeze.

She pushed herself onto her feet, mind racing. Aura was Fire, and her Fire had recovered from her foray into Jaune's Dreamscape. She was already healing the bruises mottling her skin around the swelling in the areas the giant had struck her, and she forced her Fire to concentrate in her hands, which sparkled with yellow light. She grinned.

This was going to be fun.

Yang let out a war cry of her own just as the mountain man recovered from the surprise and ferocity of Jaune's attack, landing a blow against his chest that sent him sprawled onto his back. White light sparked on Jaune's chest, and soon green light sparked over the giant's chest as Yang punched him with all her might, unleashing a flurry of blows that sent the giant staggering in retreat and with his green Aura flickering, the light flashing for longer and more sharper as she inflicted more damage onto him. The giant tried fighting back, but Yang had the momentum and refused to concede it.

The noise of their fighting had drawn attention, and Yang had footsteps approaching. The giant heard it too, and his eyes glanced past her towards Jaune, who was back on his feet and looking for a way to re-enter the fray without interrupting her flow. She glared at the giant, daring him to try and reach Jaune, and instead he turned and made to run.

Only to halt when a sword pressed up against his throat.

"Hazel Rainart." Drawled a familiar, raspy voice, and Yang's eyes widened as she peeked past the giant to see her Uncle Qrow standing there, looking utterly exhausted. She shot him a worried look, but calmed when he winked at her. "What brings the Traitor of Dragonbone Keep to the ruins of Beacon?"

"You." Hazel Rainart intoned darkly, and the veins in his arms pulsed when others rushed towards them from the Great Hall where breakfast was supposedly being had, many of them armed. "All of you are dogs to the Brothers. I care not if I die here."

"Good." Uncle Qrow grinned, though there was only murder in his eyes and his smile was all teeth. "I don't suppose you'll die quietly then?"

Hazel reared his arms back, and Uncle Qrow lashed out with his sword. Yang and Jaune leapt forward, hands encompassed in the Aura they wore like a gauntlet, and forced Rainart to his knees with a grunt. The sword swiped across his face, and green Aura flickered across his head. Yang did not want to give the giant a chance to get back onto his feet and wreak havoc, so she pummelled him with her fists whilst he tried protecting himself. Jaune did the same, as did Uncle Qrow with his sword, and the green Aura sparked across Hazel Rainart's entire body before crackling and shattering into dust-like particles that faded quickly.

Uncle Qrow's final swing swung true, and the giant shuddered as cold steel pierced his heart.

"G-Gretchen…" The giant sighed. "S-See…G-Gretchen…"

"Poor bastard." Uncle Qrow noted, wiping his sword clean on the dead giant's clothes. "Still a bastard nonetheless though. How in the name of the Brothers did you two find him here?"

"We stumbled across him going to the Great Hall to find some breakfast." Jaune answered honestly, earning himself a withering glare. "I'm not lying!"

"He isn't." Yang added, and Uncle Qrow sighed, staring at the corpse at their feet.

"Well this is bad." He grumbled. "Oscar's gone and a damned cultist managed to infiltrate us. Not to mention he's the biggest bloody bastard that could've done the job. Salem's taunting us. How did he even get here? I last saw him in Atlas not too long ago. It would've taken him ages to get here, let alone be able to infiltrate Beacon."

"We could be compromised deeper than we thought." A grey-haired man added, stepping up next to Uncle Qrow and eyeing him carefully. Yang blinked, thinking that the man might be the type to prefer someone of their own gender, before realising he was staring intently at the lamp on her Uncle Qrow's hip.

Since when did Uncle Qrow have a lamp?

"We need a leader, now more than ever."

"Oscar was our leader and had been for centuries. How do we even choose a new one?"

"Goodwitch." Uncle Qrow interrupted, the crowd falling silent to listen and looking intently at the lantern on his hip. Yang tried to follow along, but she still wasn't even sure who they were exactly. "She has the credentials and with all the duties Oscar gave to her it's safe to say he was grooming her for command in the event he did die. Does anyone know where she is?"

"Oscar sent her to deal with the Winter Maiden's magic in case it reached Vale."

"Then she's up somewhere north. I'll put this somewhere secure then fly-"

"Messenger! There's a boy and kid with a letter for the Old Man!" Someone yelled, and Yang turned to see a stout man leading a frightened looking little boy and a limping man Jaune's age heading towards them. "They say it's from Goodwitch!"

"Goodwitch? Glynda Goodwitch? She sent you here?" Uncle Qrow demanded, stepping forward and approaching the newcomers. Yang followed, as did Jaune, flanking him on either side. Yang shot a reassuring smile to the boy, he smiled shyly before he nodded back. For some reason he seemed familiar, even if she knew she had never seen or met the boy before.

"S-She's my teacher milord." The boy said, and Yang glanced at her Uncle Qrow as he staggered back as if physically struck. "M-Milord?"

"I've never known Glynda Goodwitch as the sort to adopt urchins from the gutters." The grey-haired man from earlier chimed in, and Yang sent him a fierce glare that seemed to cower the man.

"Where did you see her last?" Uncle Qrow asked, and Yang frowned with worry at just how pale and gaunt he seemed suddenly.

"Emerald Vale milord. She put me to sleep and ordered this one to take me and a letter to the Old Man whilst the Vacuaons ran rampant. We saw a dragon whilst we were fleeing, and I doubt Emerald Vale survived warring armies and a dragon." The boy fell quiet, shuddering as he stared at the body behind them before looking away from it. "But I know she did. She'll be coming here milord."

"You, what is your name?"

"Mercury Black milord, member of the city guard." The other boy with grey hair replied. "She wanted it to reach the Old Man, and I'm not handing this letter to anyone who isn't."

"The Old Man died not too long ago." Uncle Qrow replied grimly. "She is going to be his replacement in my books. Hand me the letter boy. We would have found out what its contents were one way or another."

Mercury Black looked like he had swallowed a lemon, but a glance at just how outnumbered he was made him concede. Uncle Qrow took the letter and read its contents quickly, letting out a violent curse once he was done. Yang rushed forward and covered the little boy's ears whilst the tirade continued, until Uncle Qrow shook his head and turned to the crowd behind him.

"We need to mobilise for war. I want everyone who isn't a warrior making weapons or armour for them or gathering information immediately. We need up to date knowledge on just what the fuck is going on in this god forsaken world now. Until Glynda comes back, I'm taking command. Any objections."

No-one so much as coughed.

"Good. Now get to work. Either you train, forge, or listen." Uncle Qrow ordered, before turning to Mercury Black. "Go get some rest, I'll have someone find you a room. Boy…What's your name?"

"R-Robin milord." The boy replied nervously, and Uncle Qrow breathed heavily, eyes falling shut. "No last name."

"Aye." Uncle Qrow said sadly. "That sounds about right. Mercury, you'll protect the boy. I'll pay you well for it, especially if you train him how to fight after you've had some rest. You may look like a layabout but you've got the stance of a sword fighter."

"A sword is about the size of the brat's body." Mercury replied. Uncle Qrow nodded.

"Knives it is then. You two, come with me. Breakfast can wait." Uncle Qrow instructed, looking like he had aged a decade in mere minutes. "I can't believe we've dropped the ball this badly. At this point I wouldn't be surprised if Salem was underneath the gods-damned floorboards."

Yang glanced at Jaune, who stared back at her before shrugging. They stopped following Qrow only once, for Qrow to order some poor person to drag away Hazel's corpse and find a room for Mercury and Robin, before they ended up back in the bedroom they had woken up in, faced by the God in a shield and a talking sword.

'And yet it was a boy that was an urchin that had unbalanced Uncle Qrow the most.' Yang thought, casting a worried glance at her Uncle as he nearly crushed the letter in his hand.

She had not known him for long, and she was suddenly, keenly aware of that fact. How much of her Uncle Qrow's life was she completely ignorant of? How much would he be willing to share? How much did he want to keep hidden?

Jaune took her hand in his and squeezed, and she smiled at him. Despite the lack of food warming her belly, she was happy. She had comforted him earlier, now he returned the favour.

As true mates did.

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Sun wandered after the slaughter at Vale. The sounds of battle faded, and his feet took him far away. He was aimless and adrift, and his feet automatically took him towards the sands of his homeland, despite it being the place Sun didn't want to go to. Even a cave without light or hope would have been more preferable, a thought that inadvertently made himself shiver.

Caves were horrible. It was why his people hated cities or permanent settlement. Darkness and crampedness and misery. The decay of the landscape until it was inhospitable and barren, and men were forced to eat their children for lack of food.

Vacuo was harsh, but it was not barren nor inhospitable. Sun's father would not have been able to gather together a large tribe, or join it with a hundred others, if it was so. The open lands gave opportunity and it gave freedom. Freedom to survive and thrive…and freedom to die.

Once it was said Vacuo was a green place. In times long since passed, a war far greater than the one he was fleeing from had been waged between the true gods, the Sky and the Earth, and a vicious witch, the Sea. The Sky and the Earth provided and nurtured life, and the Sea, jealous of the love Humanity and Faunus gave to it, tried drowning the world with its poison water and dark creatures. The Sky and the Earth defeated the Sea and trapped it in a prison, but the Sea had left Vacuo scourged of all greenery. The Sky and Earth restored Vacuo's former glory, but they were too weakened from the war to maintain that. They fell into dormancy, forming solid ground and open sky, and the infighting of the tribes returned Vacuo to waste.

Sun had always disbelieved the tales told by his elders. He was not one to be taken away by mere words, no matter how well told, especially not when he could hear the screams of his father's slaves after a raid, something which contrasted quite sharply with the elder's tales of such slaves coming willingly and with eagerness due to the strength of the men who smote their weaker husbands and sons.

A lust for adventure did not make Sun a fool, though perhaps the times he rode too far away from the tribe and got a beating for returning back to it too late countered that argument. On horseback Sun could go anywhere, and he had scoured the lands the tribe travelled in search of an unknown, mystical something that he wanted to see. He did not know what, and he still didn't, but he had hoped to find it.

He paused for a moment, staring around him. He couldn't hear the fighting or the screaming anymore, and for that he was thankful. He did not see sprawling dunes or burnt rocks or orange hills. He saw a paved road of stone, green trees and green grass.

He offered a silent apology to the Earth for the road the Valeans had cut through its skin, and made his way over to a tree, slumping down it and feeling its bark itch against his back. His tail curled around his torso onto his lap, and he leaned his head back against the tree bark. He closed his eyes and lowered his hands, sighing as the soft blades of grass brushed against them.

For a long time he imagined what the tribe would have been like if it dwelled somewhere other than Vacuo. He loved his homeland, but it was a harsh place that bred harsh people. Even the city on the northern coast bred harsh people, even if his father had decried them as weaklings for hiding behind walls of stone and staying in one place, risking the wrath of the Earth. Fighting and raiding others was the way a tribe survived, but if a tribe got too big it would force others to unite and ally against it. If a Chief had too many sons the tribe would disintegrate into different warbands or tribes. If a Chief had one son who was a weakling the tribe would be conquered by another. There was no stability. Just chaos.

Sun was no fan of the Valean idea of stability. Meaningless titles, sprawling cities and grey, drab buildings. Animals trapped in pens and behind stone walls, forests cut down, plains tilled and stabbed to make farmland. Roads that cut the skin of the earth, bridges that disrupted the waters of the Sky and Earth's children - the Rivers.

The tribes were right in some respects, wrong in others. So were the Valeans. If they adopted the best of both worlds, Valean laws and Vacuoan mobility, Sun doubted anything could stop such a people. Instead there were thousands of years worth of spilled blood, constant infighting and raiding and killing.

Sun relaxed his hands, which had inadvertently clenched into fists. He had no intention of ripping out grass, of ruining the beautiful green in his hands. He sighed, the memory of his forced kinslaying fading from memory.

He did not love his father. He did not want to have been made to kill him either. All for a title he had abandoned faster than his own honour.

As a boy, Sun had been foolish enough to defy his father's wish to prove himself a man and join him on a raid. His father had been furious, but couldn't delay the raid due to the loss of face it would cause him. Instead he had returned, laden with booty and fresh slaves. A young girl Sun's age had been dragged before him, weeping tears and with a face frozen in fright. His father had wanted him to take her, to prove himself a man. Sun refused, even when his father had beaten him black and blue with the flat of his blade.

His mother stopped his father from beating him to death, but even that hadn't cooled his father's anger. So Sun had been made to watch as every man and every boy of the tribe forced themselves on a girl screaming for a father and for a brother who was likely dead, slain by the men violating her, screaming for a mother and a sister who would have been luckier to be as dead as their men were. Eventually the girl fell quiet, and there was no other man in the tribe capable of taking the girl except Sun.

He had no choice. He did not know if his father would have gone through with his threat to renounce his mother and make the tribe take her like he had made them take the girl, but his anger was hot and when rage burned in his father's eyes decisions were made before he came to regret them. When Sun was finished he cut the girl's throat to spare her the misery of living and to do that which he was too cowardly to do unto himself.

His father clapped him on his bruised shoulder and drank him into a stupor, a smile on his face with his son now being a man.

Sun hated his father. He became a drunkard to forget what he had seen and done that horrible night. He partied and whored, the only women he let himself take being those who let themselves be taken willingly for coin, but not for food. Coin was a commodity. Food was a necessity. A woman needing food needed to survive. A woman needing coin had debts to pay or higher valued goods she wanted. He took care not to get his services from those he knew whored out enslaved women, whether those women were bound by visible or invisible chains. He did so because he knew he could never love another, because he knew his father would use the woman he loved against him in the same manner he had threatened his mother to force him into participation of a girl's ruination for the simple crime of her father not having been strong enough to kill his, or clever enough to escape his father's raiders.

Yet he had loved his father, because he was his blood. He had yearned for the man to approve of his son, and when he finally made his father proud he had been forced to put a knife in his chest.

Sun wondered, if his father was more like the man who had told him tales of glorious ancestors and heroes and had sung him to sleep as a youngster whenever his mother was still sick giving birth to a stillborn sibling, whether he would be a happier man. A good man.

Or if he would be a dead one. If his father had been weak he would've been usurped by an even worse monster like Hailan, who would've killed Sun and taken his mother for a concubine…

His mother!

Sun pushed himself to his feet and raced to the place he had fled from, where men were dying, women were suffering the same fate as the girl whose throat he had cut and where his father's corpse was cooling.

He was a fool. An idiot. Every insult and worse he'd been named by his father and by Hailan. He was so caught up in his own selfish misery he had forgotten about the only person who really mattered in his life, forgotten about the woman who had saved him from his father's wrath more times than he could count and had suffered for it on his behalf because she loved him.

Clearly he did not love her, especially not if he had left her vulnerable in a camp not far from a battlefield.

As Sun raced down the cobbled path, he grew more and more worried. He could not here the sound of fighting anymore.

Why couldn't he hear the clash of steel and swords? The screaming of horses and men?

Someone had won. Someone had lost.

He dove into the forest, hiding behind a tree as he neared Vale's walls. He peered around a large tree trunk, surveying the gates ahead.

They were closed now. They were closed and there were bodies of Vacuoans and their mounts facing away from them.

They had tried running. They had died with spears and arrows in their backs.

Somehow the Valeans had won.

Sun fled along the edges of the forest, heart thundering. His father was dead, and he had no doubt in his mind many others were. If there was no one left to keep the tentative alliance between tribes alive, infighting would ensue. Infighting after a defeat had brought down many tribal alliances in the past, and Sun had no doubt in his mind that one would ensue now if too many tribal Chieftains were dead. The power vacuum would be too tempting for those who remained to not seize what they could whilst they could.

His mother was in danger. His mother was in grave danger and he had run because he was a coward and a fool. Because he was too weak of a man to cast aside his emotions and use his strength to protect what was his.

Even beyond death his father was being proven correct. So was Hailan.

By the Sky and the Earth he hated that thought. That didn't disregard the truth of the thought.

The camp for the women and children had been set on the other side of the river bordered by a forest. He reached the edge of the forest and came to the river.

He was met by the sound of screaming and violence.

The thought of his mother and her smile and her voice made him leap halfway across the river and hastily wade through the rest, barely staying afloat even with the aid of his tip toes. An unseen rock propelled him up and he clambered up the riverbank, sodden and wet.

He ran across the thin line of trees to the camp on the other side of them, coming to a halt at the sight of a body laying against a tree.

A child stared at him with eyes frozen in fear. Sun could easily imagine the boy sleeping contently in the shade of the tree, perhaps dreaming of his father and whether he would see him again, only to be woken by cold steel in his throat.

Sun ran ahead. He hoped the mother of the boy had died many years before, and he had no siblings. If he had siblings, or boys younger than he had been, they would be suffering a worse fate than a cut throat.

There were bodies and more bodies. He saw no steel-armed or steel-wearing Valeans, so he allowed himself a breath of relief. He knew the Valeans would have less mercy than even his father would have had, especially after the violence unleashed on their countrymen. Some of the corpses of Valean slaves were sprawled nearby, but Sun ignored them. His father had been paranoid of the other tribes, and had set his tribe up at the edges of the camp. Unfortunately for Sun, he had also made sure to place them at the opposite side of the camp furthest from Vale, so if they were defeated they could retreat more easily.

Sun ran, ignoring shouts and screams and battles all around him. A burly tribesman tried killing Sun with an axe, and Sun danced away from it, grabbing the sword of a fallen man nearby and lunging quickly, the blade sinking into the man's side. He didn't wait to see the man fall once he pulled the blade from his flesh, instead turning and running as fast as his burning legs could take him. He finally reached familiar tents, though unfamiliar men were roving in them. His father was feared, but his father was no longer, as were many of the men of his tribe most likely. Already the scavengers were coming to feast amongst the carrion.

Sun's eyes darted to one of their horses tied to its post. Not all had been brought to fight, and Sun would need one to flee. He skirted along the edges of the camp, trying not to wince as he saw women whose names he knew and sons he had been raised with scream as they suffered as the women of Vale and the women of other tribes had suffered. He could not find his mother.

He did not know if that was a relief. She could have simply been brought somewhere else in the camp, or taken away by a fleeing tribe. There weren't enough bodies of his people in the area of their tents, and Sun wondered if they had fallen elsewhere in the encampment or had escaped.

Sun paused, turning to the horse, skittish from the noise and the smell of blood. He noted the emptiness around it, saw the cut ropes that would have kept the other horses leashed there. Not all of the tribe were suffering in their part of the encampment. Had some escaped?

Horse tracks led away from the hitching posts and into the forest behind them.

The question was…had his own people escaped, or someone else's?

And had his mother been amongst them?

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"Hazel Rainart…" The God of Light mused. "Hm. At least he is dead, though I agree it is troubling he was able to infiltrate Beacon. It reminds me of a far worse time when Salem's agents infiltrate Beacon, something I have no doubt she intended. Even if Rainart was sent here to be caught and slain, his purpose would have been fulfilled."

"What purpose?" Jaune asked, leaning against the wall and avoiding the bed he had woken up in. Yang was nearby, whilst Qrow was slumped on what Jaune now knew was his own bed. He made every effort to not look at it, not wanting to remind himself of his own misdeeds, even if Yang, for some miraculous reason, didn't seem angered by him crawling into bed with her. "We barely got the man's name out of his mouth before he died."

"Salem has no need for Human agents to infiltrate Remnant, not if she already has the Inquisition and the Silver-Eyed warriors, if what Goodwitch's message claims is true." The God of Light explained. "His purpose was psychological. She wanted him found so we would become paranoid, frightened of who we do and do not know. She wants us to divide ourselves wondering over who we can and cannot trust. You said Lionheart was her?"

"Leo?" Qrow blinked. "Aye."

"Have him monitored. His…family has a history of siding with Salem. He could be a traitor."

"Leo? I get he's a bit of a coward but…oh." Qrow said, shoulders slumping. "He's so scared of death he's sided with Salem because of her promise of a second life, or something along those lines. She's made empty promises and he's fallen for them because he's a scared fool."

"Her tongue has always been her most dangerous asset." The God of Light said softly. "Once she was even able to turn my brother against me."

"I'll have him monitored for now, even if I think there's a good chance what you say is true." Qrow replied. "We'll need evidence to have him arrested."

"A fair action, though I recommend you true and keep me and Crocea Mors hidden from him. If we can make it appear as if we have been separated from you, and he reports on that, we could make Salem worry over where we are and what we are doing. Do to her what she tried to use Hazel to do to us."

"Fine. I'll take you out myself to fetch the Relic of Creation." Qrow said, taking the Lamp off of his hip. "Knowledge has two questions left. We need to use them wisely."

"The Relics?" Yang frowned. "You have mentioned them before, needing them to make something to kill Salem, but I don't really understand them or their purpose. Does the Relic of Knowledge only have a limited number of questions you can ask it?"

"The Relic of Knowledge can answer three questions every century, and it replenishes at the start of a new one. You can't save up questions either, it's just three every century, and you need to be exact with the question you ask it in order to get the most accurate answer.." Qrow explained. "The Relic of Creation can create anything so long as you can provide the details for it, but only one thing at a time and it cannot be used to destroy or bring the dead back to life. However, its previous creation is destroyed once a new one is constructed. The Relic of Choice can show you a vision of a future choice you will have to make, but the vision is random and you can only see one. The Relic of Destruction…"

"The Relic of Destruction was my greatest error, barring Salem of course." The God of Light added, picking up from Qrow as he trailed off into an uncomfortable silence. "I envisioned it as a way for Ozma, my chosen champion, to defeat the Grimm threat left by my brother and to, if necessary, forcibly unite Humanity. However, its power was left unchecked by Ozma, who could not destroy the Grimm due to Salem respawning them using the powers she absorbed trying to kill herself in my brother's Pool of Darkness, and who had no desire to be a warmonger. It was used only once, during what was known as the Great War before it became the War of the Kingdoms following the true Great War against Salem. Ozma used it to prevent more bloodshed, as he did the other Relics, and proceeded to lock the Relic of Destruction away so Salem, or an ambitious fool, could not use it to impose their will on Remnant. Each Relic is filled with my own divine power, allowing them to do things like foretell the future or make cities float. With that in mind, you can understand what the Relic of Destruction is capable of. However…the Relics will simply store up more and more of that power unless it is siphoned through usage, which I ensured in order to guarantee they did not run out of energy and therefore become inert and useless to Humanity, as I knew it would take time for it to unite together to defeat Salem and bring my brother and I back. Creation and Knowledge were used the most frequently throughout the first war against Salem, as was Choice. Destruction, in all its life, was used only once before it was used to help destroy Salem by your ancestors. So long locked away and gradually building up power had driven the Relic of Destruction to madness, and once Salem was defeated it tried to destroy Remnant. We were able to stop it, barely, and the only reason we did not destroy it there and then was because we knew it was needed to defeat Salem when she returned."

"Where did you put it?" Jaune asked, curiosity lining his tone.

"After it was defeated, my brother and I created a jail for it to be contained in. Because of a spell we put on it, we guaranteed the Relic of Knowledge could not be used to find it, and that only we would only be able to bestow the knowledge of where it was hidden to our champion. That is you, Jaune Arc."

"On my honour as an Arc." Jaune murmured, and the shield pulsed with a golden glow. "You want me to go fetch it."

"With help." The God of Light acknowledged. "Crocea Mors will go with you in my brother's stead, and to get to there quicker Yang will fly you there."

"I don't remember agreeing to that." Qrow frowned, but Yang stepped forward suddenly, as if expecting him to start a brawl.

"But I do." Yang said, smiling at Jaune. "I'd be happy to help."

"I wonder why…" Qrow muttered, and Yang punched his army suddenly, face burning red. Jaune smiled.

"Where is the jail then?" He asked the God of Light, whilst Qrow grumbled under his breath and rubbed his shoulder.

"It hid it where I thought it would be most protected." The God of Light replied, almost grimly, and Jaune felt a sigh brewing inside him. Considering the failures and mistakes it had made in the past, Jaune wouldn't be surprised if it was hidden in Salem's wine cellar. "Mount Infernicus."

"Menagerie?" Qrow frowned. "That place is overrun by pirates!"

"I doubt they will have established homes in or near an active volcano." The God of Light retorted. "I cast a spell on Jaune after Yang healed him from his insanity and Salem's meddling, once I knew Salem could not violate his mind's sanctity and knowledge. Once he reaches Mount Infernicus, he will know where the jail is. I will not say it out loud, as I would not be able to describe the location of the prison precisely. It was meant to be hidden by time, and I have no doubt that is what happened."

"This just keeps getting better and better." Qrow snorted. "You two, go get some food then fly to Menagerie. Once I've had a nap I'll fly the God of Light to Atlas and get Creation. We'll all meet back up in Vale to collect the Relic of Choice and do what we need to from there."

"You do know I'm not sure how to even direct Yang to Menagerie?" Jaune frowned, and Qrow raised a brow before glancing at the God of Light.

"You will know once you mount Yang." The God of Light replied sagely, making Jaune wince at the poor wording and Qrow sighed, hand falling into his palm as he heard something he likely never wanted to hear, even if the context wasn't that. Jaune did not dare look at Yang in that moment."If you do not, Crocea Mors will be there to aid you by using my Brother's knowledge and any you have gifted to him."

Jaune nodded, casting a glance at the inert Crocea Mors. It had been quiet so far, and Jaune wondered why. Yang followed him out of the room, before pausing, and turning around.

"I need to ask Uncle Qrow something."

"I'll wait." Jaune replied, and Yang smiled at him before hurrying back into the bedroom that had been turned into a war council. Jaune leaned against a nearby wall, trying to calm the flutter in his heart caused by the sight of her beautiful smile, before wincing at the thought she had gone back to ask Qrow what the God of Light might have meant.

It did not take long for Yang to return, and there was a conflicted look on her face. Jaune stood straighter immediately, a worried frown furrowing his brow. She opened her mouth as if she was about to speak, before it closed quickly and she shook her head.

"Uncle Qrow thinks that boy might be his son or the son of someone he knew?" Yang said slowly, nose scrunching up a little as she thought. "I stopped paying a lot of attention when he blurted out the fact I might have a cousin now. Or well, before now but I'm only just finding out now."

"Did he know?" Jaune frowned. He did not know Qrow well, and he definitely was not his biggest fan, but he didn't take Qrow to be the type of person to abandon his family.

'Like you did.'

"No." Yang replied, shaking her head and providing an ample enough distraction from his mind's dark thoughts. At least he knew they weren't Salem's whispers anymore. "He thought he was incapable of having children because of the magic his father used on him. Either he is wrong and the child isn't his or he's right and he has a long lost son running around that he didn't know about and is already feeling guilty of abandoning."

"You don't think this is another sort of trick Salem is using to divide us somehow?" Jaune wondered aloud. "If Qrow is beating himself up at the mere thought of him having accidentally abandoned his son already and we haven't even confirmed it then we could be dealing with another Rainart."

"No." Yang said decidedly. "The boy came with that guard who had that message from the Goodwitch lady Uncle Qrow trusts enough to put in charge of whatever this place is. I doubt even Salem could plan something like that."

"Considering she nearly killed me in my own mind and almost used my body as a puppet I'd say it would be best to overestimate rather than underestimate her." Jaune replied with a shrug. "Especially when we're getting our advice from the self-proclaimed Gods who lost part of their power to her and from the sounds of it have been barely managing to counter her since."

"Hm." Yang agreed quietly, walking next to him towards the Great Hall yet looking like she was a world away. Jaune stared at her hand, wondering if he could take it and offer her some comfort like he had earlier, but his courage failed him and stared at the grounds, teeth gritting together.

She may have seemed to have forgiven him for crawling into her bed like some lecherous scoundrel but he had not.

He began trying to formulate some sort of apology that would prove how sincere he was when they came across a set of great oak doors that were swung open to reveal a long wooden hall. Inside was a fire pit and rows of benches around it, where people sat and ate and talked in hushed, murmured tones. There was a pot over the firepit, as well as a skewered, slowly roasting and well dug into body of a pig.

Before Jaune could so much as open his mouth to ask her where she wanted to sit, Yang had shot forward and in the blink of an eye was practically vibrating at the back of a small queue near the roasted animal, eyes wide with delight and what looked like drool at the corner of her mouth.

Jaune couldn't help but smile and made his way toward her, noting that the large pot was filled with porridge and that there was an assortment of bread and cheese and even a pot of butter at a table not far away, as well as another table with jugs of milk and honey and water and ale. The water even looked somewhat clear, and unlike the dark, murky thing Jaune wouldn't have touched if his life depended on it that was common in the cities.

He collected two plates after he noticed them stacked next to a jug of honey, and he brought one over to Yang, who blinked and studied it carefully, her head tilting with curiosity.

"It's to put your food on." Jaune explained quietly after realising she did not know what it was, not wanting to accidentally reveal Yang's draconic nature.

"Oh." Yang murmured excitedly. "That's smart! Mud makes things taste horrible."

"That it does." Jaune snorted, smiling back at her before quickly turning around and heading to the table with bread and cheese on it, almost immediately feeling bad. He was not allowed to let Yang cheer him up until he had apologised for crawling into her bed unannounced and without invitation. He grabbed a loaf of hard crusted bread with a soft, spongy inside as well as a small block of dull yellow cheese.

"Why hello there." Someone said suddenly, and Jaune turned to see a blue-haired young woman staring at him, her smile more predatory than welcoming. "Who might you be?"

"Jaune Arc." He answered quickly, realising strangers would likely not be looked upon too well so shortly after the discovery of Rainart's presence and infiltration. "Heir of House Arc and…what remains of Ansel."

"Arc? Ansel?" The woman frowned. "What do you mean what remains of Ansel? Your father brought the revolt to Emerald Vale, not his own home. Not yet at least. And that doesn't explain why you're here."

"Qrow brought me here after Salem destroyed Ansel." Jaune frowned, setting down his plate and turning to face the woman directly. "What do you mean by my father's revolt? What revolt?"

"Nicholas Arc declared himself King of Vale and marched with a rebel army on Emerald Vale to overthrow the Lady Protectress." The woman replied, frown disappearing with a look of realisation. "You were driven out of Nördliche Burg by Nikos ages ago, you've been off the grid since…"

"I have." Jaune snapped. "And just because of that doesn't mean you get to tell me lies. My father is not a madman and he certainly isn't a traitor."

"Believe what you like, everyone here knows he's probably as mad as the Lady Protectress is now." The woman retorted defensively, arms folding across her chest. "I'm just telling the truth, if you want to delude yourself into thinking otherwise than that's on you. Or maybe you're just as mad as your father and don't need to delude yourself."

Jaune felt his hands clench into fists as he glared at the woman's increasingly punchable face, his blood burning hot with rage. His father survived Ansel, and he was all he had left along with Saphron and Yang. That's what mattered.

"Azure!" Someone barked, and Jaune noticed the grey-haired man from earlier hurrying over, a lion's tail swishing behind him with agitation. "Stop starting fights. It is not young Lord Arc's fault he is not aware of current events, something I fear we are afflicted with as well."

"I was just wondering why he was here, making sure he wasn't another infiltrator like Rainart." The woman, Azure, retorted as her eyes narrowed into practically slits as she glared at Jaune. "Have you even been inducted? Why are you here?"

"I'm here because Qrow brought me here and Salem destroyed my home and killed my sisters and mother." Jaune spat angrily. "I am not here because I have anything I need to prove to you."

"We're all equals here lordling." Azure snapped back. "You don't get to look down on me because I wasn't spawned from some prissy noblewoman's loins."

"I'm looking down on you because you're a colossal bitch." Jaune hissed, heart pounding in his ears as anger coursed through his body.

"At least I'm not a mad bastard like your father is!"

"I said enough!" The man interjected again, forcibly stepping in between them and pushing them apart as they lunged at one another. Jaune was pulled back suddenly, and in the blink of an eye Yang was in front of him, practically shielding him with her body. "Enough! Azure, you are out of line and you know it. The young lord here is not to be blamed for his father's misdeeds, which we suspect aren't even his own. The presence of Tock at Lord Arc's court and his sudden revolt are not mere coincidence, especially not when Salem has returned. Lord Jaune, your father has indeed rose against the Lady Protectress in Emerald Vale, but we heavily suspect he is being influenced by a known agent of Salem who only recently arrived at his court, and was able to prevent our own agents from finding out what the goings on at Lord Arc's court are by finding and killing them."

Jaune turned away, his anger weakened by a worry that gnawed at his heart and made his chest feel icy with fear. If there was an agent of Salem near his father and potentially influencing him…would she be instructed to hurt him due to Jaune siding against Salem?

"Azure, if you are not here to eat, then leave." The grey-haired lion Faunus instructed sternly, and the blue-haired woman huffed angrily and stomped away before pausing.

"I didn't know Salem was involved." Azure admitted reluctantly, as if the act of doing so was causing her great harm. "I'm sorry."

"I am too." Jaune replied, forcing himself to be polite. Azure quickly stormed off, and Jaune turned to the grey-haired man. "Thank you."

"Not a problem." The grey-haired man smiled amicably. "A friend of Qrow is a friend of mine. I am Leonardo Lionheart, Keeper of Secrets here at Beacon."

"Keeper of Secrets?" Jaune asked, raising his brows with curiosity to mask his recognition of Lionheart's name. He forced himself not to display any signs of anger, even if the thought the man was a traitor working for Salem curdled his stomach.

"I command the legions of spies Oscar trained over the years, though much of my work is delegated to regional leaders. I simply collate all their information and provide it to Oscar…well…I used to. I'll be doing it for Qrow in the meantime and for Glynda in the future."

"I see." Jaune replied. If the man was in charge of filtering information to Beacon's leadership, then it would explain why it was left so in the dark about Salem's movements if he was in fact a traitor, as well as why Beacon's spies were unable to penetrate his father's court. The man could have provided said information to the agent embedded there and sent his people to their deaths. "It was nice meeting you, and I hate to be rude but I haven't had breakfast yet and it's been a busy morning."

"I can imagine, what with Hazel Rainart having infiltrated Beacon and now my own people harassing you. I apologise once more for Azure's behaviour my boy."

"There's nothing to forgive." Jaune smiled amicably, even if he wanted nothing more than to tear the man's throat out. All they needed was physical evidence, because from what little Jaune knew the pieces of the puzzle were fitting together.

He stepped past the older man with his plate of food and offered a nod to him as he passed. Yang was next to him, and she tugged at his hand once Lionheart was walking away.

"There is something on your food." Yang told him urgently, and Jaune stiffened. "The grey-haired man put it there whilst you were talking."

"Stay here. Get your breakfast. You deserve it." Jaune told her, frown furrowing as he thought. "Act like you don't know. I'm certain Lionheart is a traitor like the God of Light said. This could be the proof we need."

Yang nodded, though her face was laden with worry. Impulse overwhelmed him, and Jaune found himself leaning forward and kissing the gap between her eyebrows in the hope of banishing the frown on her face. It worked, though he immediately leaped back as if he had been burned and Yang's jaw had dropped, her cheeks blushing a red so crimson he wondered if her blood circulation had been affected.

It was better than her looking openly worried should Lionheart be observing them, and Jaune hurried past and over to the table with drinks on it. He doubted Lionheart would have poisoned them as well, since he had specifically targeted Jaune and likely wouldn't target something so communal due to the attention it would bring.

Whilst he poured himself a mug of milk and added some honey to the small portion of porridge he had scooped as he passed the large pot of it, he surveyed his plate carefully and spotted the small, brown sprinkles of herb on the crust of his bread. It was barely noticeable, and it was only because of the attention he was giving it that he had spotted it. He was no herbalist or apothecary, but he had learned much at the insistence of King Jacques Schnee, who had demanded excellence in all fields at all times.

A sprinkle of Milesroot was deadly if drained of all liquids and nutrients, and the small sprinkles of it on his bread was drier than Vacuo.

And Jaune would need to eat it in order to prove Lionheart was a traitor. It was a radical plan, one he knew Yang was going to beat him up for, but it was the only way to concretely prove that Lionheart was a traitor.

It also meant there better be the right herbs in the Beacon infirmary and that he was administered them within the next half hour. After forty minutes he'd be dead. After thirty he'd be a cripple for the rest of his life.

Jaune headed back towards Yang, tried to apologise silently as he ate the poisoned bread. Yang frowned, but it faded when he calmly sipped from his cup of milk, to ease the pain caused by the burn of the Milesroot down his throat. It would've been the first sign he'd been poisoned, unless he put it down to the hard crust of the bread, and across the room he saw Lionheart sigh in relief.

It took every inch of his willpower to not to show his anger openly, and instead he sat down next to Yang, who was licking her lips eagerly at the slice of roasted meat in front of her.

"You might want to eat that quickly." Jaune warned, not wanting to ruin the breakfast she had so clearly savoured for. At least she would be able to enjoy the pork before he had to be spirited away to be saved. "Tell Qrow that Lionheart is in charge of what we know, and that we do not know much."

"What do you mean?"

"He could be intentionally keeping Beacon in the blind as to what is going on in order to aid Salem."

"Oh. Is that why he put those thingy's in your food?"

"Poison."

"He was trying to hurt you wasn't he?"

"Mhm." Jaune replied, taking a bite out of his cheese. Yang frowned as she studied his plate.

"Where is it?"

"Where is what?"

"The poison?"

"..."

"Jaune…"

"..."

"Jaune."

"We needed proof he was a traitor." Jaune winced, and he flinched at the sheer rage that flared in Yang's eyes and made them seem red. Jaune felt an itch in his throat, and he started coughing violently. His eyes widened with the realisation his throat was swelling rapidly, and soon it would be shut. He sucked in air desperately, ears ringing with the sound of Yang's yells and stampeding feet as his vision started to blur and darken.

He didn't think it would work that quickly…

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Desert sands replaced what would have been the rustle of leaves in a different time. Once he would have fought in snow and forest and fields. Now he was in the desert, though he did not fight.

He hunted.

His men were around him, laying flat on their bellies. Their horses wandered in the oasis below, shying away from the bodies of the dead. He had made sure to strip their horses of insignia and armour, and instead put on the light armour and tribal leathers the Vacuoans used. The dead were few, and were displayed in a manner that their deaths had been more peaceful than they had been.

The trap worked.

The tribesmen spoke in a harsh, guttural tongue he did not care to understand, though he knew through instinct they were tired and wary. Their journey would be harsh. Soon they would be granted the gift of rest.

It did not take long for their thirst and need for sanctuary to overwhelm their concern at the dead, who they incorrectly surmised were the wounded of another tribe left to die and who had subcummed to their wounds. He watched in silence, ignoring the sting on his cheeks from the harsh granules of sand striking it, ignoring the urge to rub at tired eyes shrouded with crusted blood and dust. He had not washed, and the blood of the slain served as a way to camouflage his fair skin to ensure the ambush worked.

Once the scouts had drunk their fill and secured the horses, they disappeared and returned shortly after with a ragged train of people. Women, children, some elderly and a large number of wounded. Many were suffering, likely from some sort of camp disease that ran rampant in undisciplined army camps. They dug no latrine and their wounded and sick were kept far from the water, their fellows bringing them waterskins they did not use themselves.

His hand twitched, and his thumb ran over the hilt of his sword, buried in sand.

Not yet.

Their journey had been an arduous one. Soon they were snoring and resting, only a few drowsy young boys and wounded men keeping watch. Many of them were soon asleep. Soon all of them were asleep.

He rose like a wraith, sand falling off of him to be carried away and masked by the wind. His fellows rose too, silent and stealthy without the chainmail and armour hidden nearby. They were gauntlets and braces and other individual pieces, but no full set, and so they descended quietly onto the sleeping camp.

Their horses recognised them and were calm. Those of the tribesmen did not, but the calmness of their brothers and sisters made them calm, if not curious, in turn.

He ignored the nuzzling of a horse against his hand, searching for a treat. It chuffed and trotted away when he did not indulge it.

A shriek erupted from the other side of the encirclement, and he quickly strode forward, sword in hand and cleaving the head of a startled tribesman with ease. Screams soon tore through the air, matched with the sweet song of steel against steel. A boy with more bravery than brains rushed him, and he batted away his unskilled, weak strike easily. Another charged from the side, and he simply caught the blade with his hand, metal crushing metal.

The looks of horror on their faces as he did so almost made him smile.

Soon their blood stained his blade, and he cleaved his way through the rest. Their fathers, their brothers, their sisters, their mothers, all fell before him, joining the scared, brave fools in lying still and dead against the desert sands.

"There's babes. Three of them, milord." One of his fellows said when the bloodletting was finished. "What should we do with them?"

"What did we do to their families?"

"They're babes milord."

"I heard you the first time soldier."

"I…I can't be a part of this."

"Then leave."

He moved towards the sound of squealing coming from the small tent erected in the middle of the former tribe. The man stepped in front of him.

"No! Milord, they are not even children. Let me take them! I'll raise them right, I promise!"

"They're Vaucoan."

"They are babes."

"Move."

"No! Milord this madne-urk!"

He watched as the man's eyes widened with fear as steel fingers wrapped around his neck and squeezed slowly. The man was not Vacuoan, and the man had no part in stealing his soul from him, so he let him die quickly, and the light faded from his eyes quickly once he removed the blade from his chest.

The body fell. He stepped over it and towards the squealing, which soon stopped.

The next morning he woke up alone, with only his armour and sword. He cared not. Men were useful, but they died.

He would too. Eventually. But not yet. Not until he had made them pay.

Not until they had suffered. Not until they were stopped.

He was the Lord Protector of Vale. His wife had died defending it. He would ensure it would never need protecting again.

He moved on deeper into the desert sands alone, leaving a trail of red.

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His ears were still ringing when Jaune came to, his back aching from being laid down on a hard and flat surface that was not comfortable at all. Through blurry eyes he saw figures gesturing and could dimly register them yelling at one another, and his rapid heartbeat calmed at the sight of a long blonde mane that could not be mistaken for anyone but Yang.

He tried to open his mouth and ask what was going on, but his body felt mushy and weak and limp. His tongue was heavy and clung to his dry throat, and he was just about able to curl his fingers and flex his toes.

'I'm not crippled…thank the Gods.' Jaune sighed internally, trying to move his heavy limbs and failing instantly.'...or maybe not. God of Light? If you can hear this then the next time I have a stupid idea like this feel free to smite me.'

"His eyes are open!" Someone yelled, and Jaune realised he could hear properly again.

"Jaune Arc!" Yang bellowed, rage in her face as she shook him by his shoulders. "You are an idiot!"

"Yang!" Qrow interjected, forcing his irate niece away from the slightly dazed blonde. "I can understand being worried and angry but it is not Jaune's fault he was poisoned."

Yang harrumphed and turned away, arms folded under her chest, though her head was inclined in a way that let her see him and she was very clearly keeping an eye on him. He could obviously expect an earful from her later, but it was good she knew she couldn't admit he'd ingested the poison willingly. Lionheart could argue he was being intentionally framed, or at least attempt to argue as such. Considering Jaune no longer had a fief to inherit and he did not know anyone here, he doubted he could beat the lion Faunus in a word against word argument.

So he needed to play the game he had learnt at the court of King Jacques Schnee, a man whose epithet ranged from 'the Schemer' to 'the Bastard' or more often than not 'the Scheming Bastard'.

"S-Sorry…" Jaune barely managed to groan. "Didn't mean t-to scare y-you."

Yang growled quietly and jabbed an angry finger in his chest.

"You better be mister! Not even a day after I last had to save you and you've nearly died already!"

"If we can get back to the matter at hand." Interjected Lionheart calmly, though there was no mistaking the irritation and perhaps even worry gleaming in his eyes. "I would like to get back to clearing my name from that woman's baseless allegations. Lord Arc, do you believe I would have poisoned you?"

"Y-Yes." Jaune wheezed, and he delighted at the way Lionheart blanched but knew he could not act as if this was premeditated if he wanted the others to believe the truth of the matter. "You lead s-spies. You s-said so. Spies and s-subterfuge and p-poison. W-Why though?"

"This young miss here has accused me of tampering with your food and yet you raise a good point. Why would I poison you? I have no grievance against you, and I certainly have no enmity toward your father despite his actions. Why would I do such a drastic thing?"

"Salem." Qrow answered accusingly. "You work for Salem as a traitor."

"You too Qrow?" Lionheart frowned, managing to sound genuinely hurt. But Jaune knew well enough to see real and fake emotion when it came to the nobility, having seen such more often than not at Schnee's court in Atlas. "Why do you support this girl so fervently? Why are you willing to trust a stranger who has no proof other than a boy unfortunately choking over someone who has aided you combat the dark forces that threaten our world for decades?"

"I believe her because you have been behaving oddly Leo." Qrow practically snarled. "You are the one in charge of our spy networks, and for some reason we've been flailing in the blind for months as the world crumbles around us. We can barely keep track of Salem and her packs of roving Grimm, we have no idea what state the Kingdoms are in and we have no idea where half of our spies and informants are beyond those we have confirmed to have been killed. Theodore has been missing for years and we've only found out his death now because of Glynda stumbling across it accidentally. How many more are dead and gone and we don't know? How much of that is down to your incompetence or your own sabotage?"

"I am neither!" Lionheart retorted furiously, and Jaune felt his own fury rise at the clear division in the room between the bystanders present, including Azure and a white and green-robed man Jaune realised was a Priest of the Greentouch Order, the person who had likely saved him using the knowledge taught to him by his healing order of monastic brethren. They needed something more tangible to prove Lionheart was a traitor, but what? "How dare you accuse me of such when I have devoted my life to combating Salem with all of my ability! The boy choked on his food Qrow!"

"That is incorrect." The Brother of the Greentouch Order interjected, stepping forward with a serious, stern look of consternation. "The young lord was not choking on food, but was suffering from the consumption of Milesroot. I could tell by how quickly his airways shut and the veins in his neck turned so purple. However I do not know who planted the poison nor do I have much to say about the competency of my colleagues and their loyalty to our cause. What I can say with absolute certainty is that Jaune Arc was poisoned."

"Then we should be doing our best to find the poisoner in an actual investigation rather than this witch hunt!" Lionheart protested. "First Hazel Rainart infiltrated our ranks, and now this? Yet, here you are Qrow, dividing us further with baseless accusations. Are you worried where a proper investigation would lead? I always knew I could not trust a dragon."

Jaune felt the uncertainty in the air, and even if people were suspicious of him, if Lionheart escaped here and now he would have more time to plan his next act of sabotage…or receive such instructions from Salem.

Unbidden, Jaune's eyes were drawn to the sword at Qrow's hip. The lamp, the so-called Relic of Knowledge, was there too. If Lionheart lived then Salem would know they had one of the four Relics and would hasten to get the others, and Jaune did not want to have to fight Salem in a volcano whilst getting the Relic of Destruction, which was supposedly as dangerous as she was.

"I can help." Crocea Mors said suddenly, its voice echoing in Jaune's mind. "I can pose as the God of Darkness, and these people will listen. Yang will be safe, and this traitor will not scheme against you anymore. But you know what it will cost."

His soul. How much of that did Jaune even have left? Did he even care anymore?

He glanced at Yang, who hovered nearby, some of the watching crowd glaring at her with obvious disdain. From what he could tell from what he had heard and comprehended, Yang must have accused Lionheart once he had been poisoned, and this whole argument was a pseudo-trial.

And they need evidence. Something concrete and that was undoubtedly the truth to overrun what little sense of loyalty these people had to their comrade and possible leader.

What better proof than the words of a talking sword with the power of a god?

Jaune's hand wrapped around the hilt of Crocea Mors, and he shuddered as a ice-black cold dug into his bones. It was the same feeling he had felt in Atlas, when Crocea Mors had flooded him with power and Jaune had become a butcher for it. Everything seemed like it was veiled behind a foggy haze that made the world seem like it was nothing but dark shadows.

Was this what the God of Darkness saw? Was this his world?

If so, Jaune almost pitied it. But the God of Darkness had abandoned them, and it was up to the remnants of itself left behind to fill the gap it had left with what power it had, fuelled by his own soul.

"Enough!" Jaune barked, but his voice was not his own. It was loud and booming and demanded attention and obedience. Purple flame ignited along Crocea Mors' blade as Jaune unsheathed it with a strength that was not his own and sprang to his feet from the table had been laying on. Fear ran rampant through the room, along with gasps and screams and shrieks. The purple flame spread, enshrouding him in a dark, flaming armour that sucked the light from the flames in the Great Hall, making it dim and dark and illuminated only by the dark light cocooning him. "Here me and obey!"

"W-What?!" Lionheart trembled, and Jaune felt his arm move so that Crocea Mors was pointing at the heart of the Lionheart.

"Leonardo Lionheart is a traitor and whore of Salem." Jaune snarled, fury running through his veins instead of blood, cold beating in his heart instead of warmth. "It is known, it has been told and it has been re-written by the fickle hand of fate."

"Who are you?" The Greentouch monk demanded, voice resolute and hiding his fear admirably. Jaune could smell it though, no matter how well hidden it was. "Qrow, what is this?"

"I am the God of Darkness, Brother of Light and the ruination of worlds. Jaune Arc is my champion, my mouthpiece, so listen and obey or be sent screaming to meet your ancestors."

Even the monk had nothing to say to that, and some of the older members of the room realised the sword Jaune was holding in his hand was not an ordinary or simply magic one.

"Crocea Mors, that's Crocea Mors."

The words spread like wildfire. Lionheart seemed as pale as a sheet.

"Do any wish to challenge me? Does any question my divinity? My identity?"

No-one rose to such a challenge. Jaune couldn't blame them, and he felt the powers burning through him roil excitedly at the fear he felt with the realisation he could not control his body.

"Leondardo Lionheart. You believe Salem will spare you, that she shall elevate you beyond your station in the new world she has sold you. Salem will do no such thing, and creating worlds will forever be beyond her comprehension. Since you desire a new world so much that you would betray the people who trusted you, let me send you to one. I will look forward to torturing you in hellfire for eternity in the afterlife."

"I-I!"

Leonardo Lionheart was not granted his last words, nor the mercy of a quick death. The fire surrounding Jaune leaped like a pouncing cat and ensnared Lionheart in its hold. His terrified, pained screams tore through the air like a twisted, evil song, echoing through the hall. His skin charred and melted slowly, but did not stink or make the room smell of burnt corpse. Instead Lionheart slowly melted and faded, and through some cruel spell he was kept alive throughout his suffering, so even when he was nought but bone his discordant screams wrought through the air until all was melted and burned and gone.

The flames along Crocea Mors faded with Lionheart's death, and Jaune keeled over as the power keeping him standing like strings on a puppet disappeared. Yang caught him, and Jaune let himself rest, unable to open his eyes and shivering from the cold.

"Well…" Qrow said awkwardly. "I think the word of a god without a shadow of a doubt proves Lionheart was a traitor. Now all we need to do is find out what else he screwed up. Gods this is a mess. Everyone…just disperse. Verd, stay here with the boy if he needs any more medical assistance. Azure, go and fetch Marrow for me. We need a new Keeper of Secrets and he's the person I trust most right now considering he can barely manage to bring himself to hurt a goddamn fly on his food. Any objections?"

Jaune was thankful for the silence as his head rang with the sound of drumming pain.

"Good. Now go!"

Bustling feet and a rush of words being flung at friends and colleagues. Jaune whimpered and tried hiding his head in Yang's shoulder, thankful that the noise faded quickly as people hurried to escape the Great Hall. She held him close, and Jaune felt his body warm slowly from the heat of her own body.

"You idiot…" Yang mumbled, and Jaune couldn't help but agree with her. That had not felt like the last time Crocea Mors had lent Jaune its power, neither at Ansel or in Atlas.

"I needed to put on a show to convince these people I remain the God of Darkness." Crocea Mors told him somewhat apologetically in his mind. "I apologise for the distress that caused you."

'Did you have to melt Lionheart into nothingness?' Jaune wondered back and Crocea Mors chuckled.

"Perhaps not, but Lionheart irritated me. He was given a second chance to live his life and redeem it, yet he chose to sink deeper into Salem's corruption." Crocea Mors practically growled in Jaune's mind, and the blade itself shiver with crackles of purple lightning. "Apologies. I have let my anger towards Lionheart get the better of me. He represents all that is wrong with Humanity."

'Not all of us are that bad.'

"No." Crocea Mors agreed, voice turning heavy with an emotion Jaune could not place. "But many are. You are not. Remember that Jaune. I bear you no ill will, and will do my best to ensure you survive this war for as long as possible."

'Much appreciated.' Jaune thought dryly, and the sword chuckled in his mind. He realised he had dozed off during his conversation with the sword, and when he came to he found his head in Yang's lap and her fingers running through his hair. He let himself enjoy the comforting sensation, before he remembered his earlier promise to himself and pushed himself up quickly, even as his head spun with nothing but colour and weeped with pain.

"You alright kid?" Qrow grumbled, and Jaune shook his head as he rubbed his eyes and held onto a nearby table for support. The Greentouch monk studied him carefully, before nodding to himself.

"He's an Arc alright." The monk said, smiling slightly. "I am Verdant, Brother of the Greentouch Order. Have you heard of us?"

"I have, thank you for saving me from Lionheart's machinations." Jaune replied, inclining his head in thanks. The monk nodded back simply. "I have much respect for your order. You have been a great boon to the people of Remnant, particularly those who would otherwise be forced to send their elderly and crippled loved ones into the wilderness as the Atlesian tribes do."

"Thank you, it is our purpose to heal above all else, though I myself am partial to providing advice as well." Verdant smiled neutrally. "You are purged of the Milesroot, as I was fortunate enough to have Monsleaf on hand due to a recent outbreak of dysentery. I may not have such on hand the next time you intend to willingly consume poison to prove one of our own is a traitor, so don't do that again. With that said, and seeing that you are capable of standing, I bid you all farewell."

Jaune blinked and watched as the sassy monk turned around and left the abandoned Great Hall. Jaune turned to Qrow, who just shook his head and pointed to Jaune's right.

"Unpoisoned food." He said, irritation in his tone. "Eat it then get flying to Menagerie. Your stunt has set us back hours we can't afford right now. At least Lionheart is dealt with, so thanks for that at least, but try not to kill yourself in the process the next time we need to do something like that yeah? If I ever see Yang on the verge of crying because you had a stupid idea that nearly got yourself killed again then I'll be making sure you actually do die."

Qrow hurried away, and Jaune winced before turning to Yang, who looked torn between agreeing with her uncle's words or wanting to defend him.

"I'm sorry." Jaune said, and he tried not to flinch as her eyes bore into his. "I'll warn you if I ever need to do something like that again-"

The rest of Jaune's apology was cut off when she slapped him so hard he stumbled back onto a bench and nearly knocked his plate of food over. Yang stood over him, shoulders heaving as she breathed heavily and eyes slowly bleeding crimson, creating a terrifying, beautiful mix of lilac and red in her eyes.

"You couldn't breathe. I saw you turn purple, I saw claw at your throat so desperately I was worried you'd accidentally rip it open with your bare hands. I saw cry and gasp and writhe. Your veins turned purple too, and your tongue swelled so much you kept nearly biting it off trying to speak and breathe."

"I-"

"I'm not finished!" Yang roared, and Jaune flinched back with surprise as her eyes turned blood red and flames slowly trickled down her hair. "I saw all of that happen to you because you willingly ate that poison! I warned you! I told you! You ate in anyway, and I felt terrified I was going to lose you! I thought I was going to lose you but I can't lose you because I love you!"

"What?" Jaune blinked, and Yang howled in frustration, dragging him by his shoulders so that their foreheads pressed together and her eyes glared into his own inches away from one another.

"I love you, you stupid idiot!" Yang growled. "You're my mate! I love you and you are my mate and I refuse to lose you!"

"Wha-?" Jaune attempted to reply numbly, and he found himself suddenly unable to speak as she pressed her lips against his.

His eyes somehow managed to widen even more as the realisation Yang was kissing him set in. Her eyes slowly turned from crimson to lilac, and her burning hair turned into a simmer. They were clumsy and inexperienced, but Jaune felt his knees shaking nonetheless. He pulled back for air, earning a few moments to gulp it in before Yang leaned forward with a cheeky, joyous look and bit his lower lip. Jaune gasped and he found himself muffled once more by her lips and tongue, and he melted further against her warmth and softness.

They pulled away eventually, and Jaune slumped against her, practically using her as a walking stick as his knees finally collapsed. Their foreheads pressed together, and Jaune closed his eyes as Yang sighed happily.

"You are mine." Yang declared softly, and Jaune could detect an undertone of fear lining it. She was worried he would reject her. That he would spurn her.

From all he knew, the world had done enough of that to her already, and he had no desire to do so as well.

It wasn't her fault people like Ruby simply didn't understand just how much of a beacon of joy Yang was.

"And you are mine." Jaune replied quietly, and could scarcely tell whose thunderous heartbeat out drummed the others.

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Creatures chirped in the night, but Sun did not mind. They masked any noise he inadvertently made despite his attempts at being quiet. His body was stiff and sore from laying on the pine-laden ground, and his eyes peered from behind the leaves of a fallen branch at the camp below.

Much of the chaos had ceased, and most of the surviving men had convened at the centre of the camp where they shouted and argued and attempted to choose a new leader for the horde, though Sun doubted there were enough men present to raid even the smallest Valean settlement. At least a dozen men of the Dryheart Tribe remained guarding the enslaved women and children of Sun's own tribe, who were doing their best to keep their weeping silent after a woman Sun recognised as Salla, the sister of his old, dead friend Silli, who died of heat-death long ago, was dragged away and beaten with the flat side of the Dryheart guard's swords.

Sun had very nearly charged recklessly to his death in an attempt to liberate her, but he knew that he needed to be patient. Men of his tribe still lived, or so he hoped, and they would come back for their mothers and daughters and sisters.

He hoped. If not he would have to storm the camp himself.

Time was running out. Dawn was not long away, and soon a leader would be chosen or the tribes would cut their losses and disperse, fleeing back to Vale before their enemies could mobilise what was left of their strength to run them off back to Vacuo. He needed to act before that happened, and the window was soon closing.

He pushed himself onto his elbows, only to be pushed forcibly down and feel cold steel against his throat.

"Scream and you die boy." A familiar voice growled into his ear, and Sun stiffened.

"Sind?"

"Sun?" The older man replied, surprise in his tone. Sun was rolled over and hovering behind him was the man who was third in command of the tribe behind Hailan and his father. "You're alive? Thank the waters boy. Do you know where your father is? Hailan is? Where have you been?"

"Father…took me away during the fighting to…to…take charge." Sun managed to say, and Sind nodded grimly, a knowing look in his eyes.

"He made a good choice. Without you we never would have gotten inside Vale." Sind said, patting Sun's shoulder and pulling him to his feet. "Where is Hailan? Where is your sword?"

"Hailan tried killing me." Sun spat, as loudly as he dared. Sind growled lowly.

"He always was a son of a whore." He swore, handing Sun a blade. Sun held it unsteadily, and Sind unsheathed a spare sword strapped to his hip. Behind him were a dozen or so men from the tribe that Sun could make out in the gloom, and some of them were nodding respectfully at him. "How did you escape Vale once the dragon came?"

"Dragon?!" Sun exclaimed, and Sind stared at him.

"It's what drove us out of Vale." Sind explained, a hard look entering his eyes. "You couldn't have missed it."

"I…I…" Sun tried, thinking quickly. If they thought he deserted then he might as well cut his own throat. "I was…lost after what happened with…with my father. I only survived Hailan attacking me because of a Valean."

"Pinkskins are good for something at least." Sind shrugged, before nodding at the encampment below. "What are we doing Chief?"

"Chief?" Sun blinked.

"Your father made you Chief, and so you are our Chieftain now. We will follow you through the great dunes to the small dunes and over the Scorched Plains if need be. My sword is yours." Sind swore, and Sun found himself taken aback. He would have spent evenings dreaming of this moment once, now he was still too shaken to know if he even could pretend to accept it.

"And mine."

"And my spear."

"And my bow."

"And my axe!"

The hushed oaths of loyalty sounded like a roar in Sun's pounding ears, and it took everything he had in him not to fall under the weight of responsibility that came with their words.

"My mother, did she escape? Is she down there?" Sun asked quickly, searching Sind's eyes fiercely. The old man nodded.

"I got her out with my daughters and wife." Sind replied, and Sun embraced the man like he was brother, feeling like he could kiss him if the old bastard wanted it.

"Thank you Sind!" Sun breathed out, earning an awkward pat on the back. Sun pulled back, and he held out his palm. He cut it with the sword Sind had given him, and he offered the bloody hand to Sind. "I would name you my battle brother."

"I-I would be honoured Chief!" Sind gasped, cut his left hand and shook it against Sun's right. They pulled one another together until their chest bumped and they smashed their foreheads against each other. Although he was dazed, Sun could hear and see the rest of the tribesmen beating their weapons against their chests quietly, approval on their faces. Sind must have led the retreat from the camp, and Sun trusted his father's other lieutenant more than he ever had trusted Hailan. "But we were lucky. Many of our people remain enslaved below us. We have to help them."

"And we will." Sun nodded resolutely, even as his hand burned from the pain of his blood-bonding with Sind. "How many are lost to us currently?"

"Twenty, from what we know. There could be more we haven't been able to account for due to the passing of their brothers and fathers in battle." Sind replied, and Sun frowned.

"I counted nearly thirty down there, but there is a chance they have brought those from other tribes unfortunate enough to have been captured by them in order to keep an eye on all of their slaves." Sun noted, surveying the encampment quickly. "We're running out of time. Either the tribes will disperse or unite, and both options will lead to the rest of their warriors returning. We will strike hard, we will strike fast and we will escape on horseback before they can pursue us. How many warriors do we have?"

"Twenty-four, not counting you."

"Then we have enough. For the tribe!"

"For the tribe!"

Sun led the sudden charge down the hill from the forest and into what was once their encampment. The surprised guards of the Dryheart tribe tried to hurry to meet them, but they were tired after hours of forcing themselves to stay awake after battle. The captured womenfolk of Sun's tribe rose up, buoyed by the arrival of their men and led by a woman who pulled a Dryheart guard running next to her onto the ground, clambered on top of him and bit his ear off.

The Dryheart's crumpled quickly, and Sun had the pleasure of striking down what seemed to be their leader, who had been the one to drag Salla away by her hair to beat her when she refused to stop weeping. Bonds were cut, and with the aid of the woman whose mouth was bloodied from biting off the ear and throat of a Dryheart, Sun gently led a trembling Salla over to a horse he recognised as his mother's, a fine Sandsteed mare. He helped both women before mounting himself, taking the reins firmly and noting that the rest of the tribe were astride their horses as well. He frowned at the sight of a woman sitting next to the smouldering remains of their tribe's campfire, and he gently steered his mother's mare over to her.

"I am dead boy." The woman said dismissively, eyes baleful. She was not one of their own, and he could not recognise her. "My sons and husband are dead, and the cut those bastards gave me is infected. I will lose my leg or die from the fever, so leave me to at least die in peace."

Sun stared, before Sind was at his side. His second-in-command nodded, and sighed before reaching over and taking the dagger sheathed against Sind's side. He tossed it at the woman, who caught it expertly, probably used to such from having to skin game hunted by her dead husband and sons.

"Die in peace then, and may you find rest under the sun and moon with your family once more." Sun told her, and there was a weak spark of light in the woman's eyes.

"Gods bless you and yours boy." The woman told him, and Sun looked away as she sunk the dagger into her heart and sighed calmly. Sind grumbled quietly but made no move to retrieve his blade, and Sun felt Salla's hands dig into his chest.

The camp was in uproar, and Sun heard horns blowing in the distance. He turned and saw men in steel armour and with colourful banners thundering towards the camp from the south, and he hastily turned to Sind.

"Lead us to where the rest of us are, then we make our escape." Sun instructed, and Sind nodded before spurring his horse onwards. Sun followed, and the tribe followed suit as the knights of Vale began the second slaughter of the newly arriving day.

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Yang had forced Jaune to eat, even if he felt like the sheer jubilation in his heart was enough to keep him sustained for the rest of his life, however long or short that may be. He hurt with the pain of his lost mother and sisters, and he felt sickened at the thought of what may have happened to his father, but that pain and fear was lifted by the mere presence of Yang, who had a smile as big and probably as dumb as his was.

Once they had eaten their fill they left Beacon, walking to a quiet glade Qrow had informed Yang of, a place where he would typically transform into his draconic form to take off without being gawped at by his comrades. Qrow himself had taken off with the God of Light to Atlas an hour or so ago in order to collect the Relic of Creation, which was supposedly the calmest of the Relics due to being used most often, and as Yang glowed gold and a dragon stood in front of him, he wondered whether others who were supposedly the mates of dragons felt the same awe he did just then.

He clambered onto the bone-like spikes jutting from Yang's back and settled into a ridge between two separated spikes, holding on tightly as Yang cooed before letting out an ear-shattering roar as she took to the air. Jaune held on for dear life as Beacon became smaller and smaller so that it seemed almost like a model version of itself, before it became a tiny dot on the horizon.

Smoke rose from the direction of Emerald Vale, and Jaune blinked as a draconic shape roared and flew away to the east, narrowly avoiding them. Yang roared back at it, and for a moment Jaune feared he would be caught up in the middle of an aerial fight between the two before nothing more happened.

'Posturing.' Jaune wondered, feeling uneasy as he glanced at the yellow scales of Yang that seemed much larger than the one she had given him when they had first met so long ago.

"Like animals." Crocea Mors said, and Jaune frowned at the inadvertent insult of his lover. "Dragons are almost entirely focused on their more primitive, animalistic aspects. They retain many functions their human forms have, but it is simplified in order to make it easier for them to manage transforming from a large body to a small one and vice versa, as well as to make operating both bodies easier on the dragon herself."

'Qrow isn't a she.' Jaune pointed out.

"Qrow is an abnormality and he knows it. I seriously doubt that the child is truly his own considering all I know of dragons and their creation from what information I have from the God of Darkness. If he is an 'evolution' of draconic kind then he is a danger to the balance of the world."

'Why?' Jaune asked, worried at the vehement disdain in Crocea Mors' usually calm and neutral tone.

"Because if dragonkind is allowed to breed unchecked it would quickly overrun Remnant and accidentally extinguish all life due to their size, hunger and capacity for territorialism and violence. The reason they were designed to rely on Humanity and Fauns for reproduction was to aid in keeping their numbers in check, as well as to make sure they would keep at least some of those species alive in order to reproduce, preventing outright draconic domination." Crocea Mors explained. "If Qrow can reproduce, and his children can be born male and reproduce as well, they could nullify the need for dragons to keep Humanity and Faunus around. How long do you think your species would last against an unchecked, unfiltered dragon invasion?"

'Not long.' Jaune couldn't help but admit, remembering just how close to destruction Nördliche Burg had come without Ruby. His eyes fell to Yang as he thought of her half-sister, who was supposedly in Salem's pocket. Or at least her mother was. Jaune did not know what he would do if he met her again. He hated her for what she had done to Yang, but she didn't seem like she was an insane murderer from their time on the road. Blake had taught him that appearances could be deceiving, but there was none of that with Ruby. If she was simply being manipulated by her mother…then it would make things unsimple. Not to mention he didn't even know what Yang herself would want to do in the event they stumbled across one another again.

Jaune just shook his head. He had bigger things to worry about, like the fact he had no idea where they were heading. He scanned the horizon, but all he saw was the greenery of Vale, occasionally ruined by rising plumes of smoking and roving packs of dark, animalistic shapes.

"Grimm." Crocea Mors noted grimly. "Salem is likely attacking the weakest areas of Vale and slaughtering its people to prevent us from using them in our own armies. The Grimm are easier cannon fodder to produce than humans are, and every loss down there is one we are going to feel keenly in the coming months. Also, tell Yang to move a little to the left, and she should be on track for Menagerie."

"Thanks." Jaune flushed, embarrassed by the thought the sword had been able to tell or automatically know his thoughts, especially considering how some of his thoughts turned out. He tapped Yang's scale, and when that didn't work he tapped the leathery skin in between scales.

Yang jolted and made a noise that sounded like a squawk. Jaune yelped and held onto her back spike for dear life until she managed to stabilise herself. Her head turned and her reptilian eyes gave him a decidedly embarrassed and frightening glare.

"Crocea Mors says we need to fly a little bit more to the left in order to be headed for Menagerie!" Jaune yelled, and Yang roared her assent before dutifully adjusting course. Jaune sighed and slumped with relief as the adrenaline faded and he realised he wasn't going to plummet to his death after being bucked from her back, which was still a weird thought to be had about the woman he loved.

'Will we win?' Jaune wondered, and he felt Crocea Mors thrum in its sheath.

"What do you mean?"

'Salem. Can we beat her?'

The sword was silent for a moment, and that did not fill Jaune with confidence as he stared at the sporadic destruction below.

"Do you love Yang?"

"What?" Jaune blinked, and thankfully Yang didn't hear his outburst due to the wind.

"Do you love her? Do you wish to live peacefully with her? Have a family with her? Have a future with her?"

Jaune realised what the sword was trying to say.

"Then yes. Yes we will."

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Ruby was concerned by what she had learned and been told, and that concern had caused her to wonder. She did not stray far from her home, not when she had missed it so much, but she roamed the boundaries of her mother's fiefdom in search of answers that eluded her.

She just didn't know what to think. Surely her mother would have told her the truth sooner? It just didn't make sense as to why she had been allowed to learn the 'lies' of the Brothers if they were so manipulative they were able to trick a 'goddess'.

It made far more sense to Ruby that Salem was a powerful demon or spirit, but no goddess, and that she was bewitching silver-eyed warriors in order to enforce her own vision on the world, which could be simply summarised as brutal conquest.

Salem reminded her too much of Alexander Nikos and the would-be conquerors far too much for her own liking to make Ruby think otherwise.

She came to a sudden halt, the hairs on the back of her neck raising. She spun around and gasped when she saw smoke in the distance, and as she rushed towards the burning she heard screaming as well.

"Raiders? Invaders? Dragons?" Ruby wondered, staring at the skies that were clear apart from the plumes of smoke.

She arrived at a village being attacked by monsters, and she remembered something in Atlas trying to attack her before her magic saved her.

Her eyes were tingling, but she could not summon her magic forward, and instead she rushed forward with her scythe in hand as a monster advanced on a mother and her babe. She was outside the area of her mother's fiefdom, and she had no clue if the local lord knew and was coming with aid.

So she had to be careful not to die herself. There was no telling if these people would have another protector if Ruby fell.

With that in mind she sprang forward and slashed, her curved blade cutting through black fur in between bone-white armoured plates and making the monster rear and roar in pain. Her boots skidded in the dusty ground and she lunged again, swinging for its exposed neck, but the monster lowered its head and instead Ruby struck its armoured face, creating a gash that made no other notable damage other than to make it growl at her.

"Run!" Ruby barked at the mother, who stumbled on shaky legs and rushed past the monster towards where Ruby had come from. The monster tried striking her as she ran past, and Ruby slashed, striking its arm and severing it below the elbow. Its paw and forearm held on by thin, dangling strings, and it howled before batting at her with its other arm. Ruby jumped away from the blow and jumped past it on her feet, practically dancing as she outmanoeuvred it, Crescent Rose singing a deadly song as she cut the monster again and again and again.

But no blood spilled forth and as Ruby found herself panting with exertion the monster was still managing to limp towards her, its body a mangled mess. She frowned and struck once more, feinting for its torso before striking its exposed legs, cutting tendons and making it topple. It glared at her with baleful red eyes, trying to move yet unable to do so, and with a final yell Ruby decapitated it with Crescent Rose.

Her legs were trembling and she was sweaty and hot and starting to tire, and yet it was still trying to kill her with no arms and legs and with enough lacerations to make a whale die of blood loss. Its body slowly dissipated in a puff of black smoke, and Ruby stared at two other monsters that looked exactly like it as they growled and advanced towards her.

Red and white and black. Salem was too.

Ruby turned to stare in the direction of her home, which her mother had left weeks ago on 'lady business' before she turned to stare at the monsters advancing towards her and we nigh unkillable.

She had a bad feeling about this.

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Mount Infernicus lived up to it's name.

Dark and imposing, Jaune had been able to see it for miles now, growing ever large from a dark, foreboding dot to a giant, almost monstrous thing. It seemed horribly alive as it belched black clouds into the air and flowing streams of magma down it's coal black slopes. It must have been the size of two cities at the bare minimum, and Jaune felt himself staring and awe and in fear as Yang circled it from above, searching for a place to land and avoiding it's dark clouds that stank of sulphur and brimstone.

"Where do we need to go?" Jaune asked Crocea Mors aloud, wanting it to do the same so that Yang could hear.

"At the top, you will know where to go from there." Crocea Mors said, and Jaune nodded. Yang dove suddenly, clearly having heard its words, and she tentatively landed at the rim of the volcano, kicking up a cloud of dark dust. Jaune slid from her back carefully, eyeing the bubbling magma with fear. "Do not be afraid Jaune. Death is not your destiny here."

Jaune stood shakily, surveying the emptiness around him. In the distance he saw the ruins of Kuo Kuoana, which was no a den of depravity and crime due to the iron grip of the Pirate Lords, who were untouched simply due to the fact it would be far more troublesome to muster a fleet and an army to deal with them in comparison to the relatively minor losses to trade they caused by effectively cutting off southern Mistral. Jaune wondered if they, somehow, had done so under Salem's orders to limit their ability to manoeuvre in the war to come.

"I don't know where it is." Jaune frowned, and Crocea Mors chuckled in his mind before speaking out loud.

"Yes you do. It is right in front of you, and you know it."

Jaune stared at the bubbling magma in front of him.

"I-I..."

"Aura."

"Yang won't-"

"Yang won't live if you don't."

Jaune glanced at the dragon that loomed next to him, her eyes narrowed in a way that suggested she knew what was going on despite the unspoken out loud part being very much spoken inside his mind.

If not for the world, if not for the gods, he would do it for her.

Jaune jumped, and Yang's jaws snapped at thin air, unable to catch him as he landed in burning lava, Aura crackling around him.

A/N: I'm taking a break from writing in April to rest a bit and focus on recovering 100%. Like last year I'm going to uploading a bunch in May but I'm not sure how many as of right now. As much as I can do I guess? I'm not sure. See you then.