Chapter 100 - The Friends He Made Along The Way

Foreword: And we're back, with Exhibit #100 of "Rambler Sucks At Giving Time Estimates", the final chapter of this story, and I know what you're thinking.

"Rambler, you promised us the Final Ship and that omake for the 100th chapter! Did you really spend all this time, and 48,007 words, just on those two things?"

No, of course not; that would just be ridiculous.

To put things in perspective, the entire script of the Bee Movie is 13,767 words long, the original Two Worlds, One Arc-nomaly was 30,343 words long, and the entire Fuyuki act was ~75,000 words long.

As for what I spent all my time and words on...

M̶o̶s̶t̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶s̶c̶r̶i̶p̶t̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶B̶e̶e̶ ̶M̶o̶v̶i̶e̶.̶.̶.̶

To quote a certain reaper-rapper (reapper?), every closed door is just the intro of a brand new story.

You know what else they say?

A really good compromise is the one that leaves all sides equally dissatisfied.

Unfortunately, I doubt the next few "closed doors" will all be equally dissatisfying.

Of course, an important to remember is that, while they're generally best described as self-contained scenarios, they aren't necessarily mutually exclusive. With access to Zelretch's spell, Serana's spell, and the modified Transportalponder, multiversal travel is definitely a possibility for Jaune; there's nothing stopping him from going to Chaldea after he drops by the Wastelands, or vice versa (hell, it's Jaune; do you honestly think he could help himself if he was told a multiverse needs his help).

Feel free to choose which ones you think apply to the "canon timeline" (so to speak), and which ones are from divergent timelines.

Hell, if you want to envision it being a harem ending, you can even just assume all of them take place in the same timeline.

Why yes, I am just being an indecisive bastard who refuses to give a canon pairing. Like I've said, I do what I want, and I like what I do.

SCENARIO: DRAGONS̶LAYER

Tai couldn't help but pace back and forth worriedly, sparing an occasional glance at the letter he'd received from his boss at the Fighters Guild even as he wondered when Tamriel had gone so mad.

A few months after his only daughter had left Bravil for Skyrim (despite his numerous protests), he'd suddenly gotten a message from the Legion, saying that his little girl had been apprehended in a Legion ambush on some Nord rebels, and had been slated for summary execution without trial by the military governor.

The Fighters Guild unarmed combat instructor been so shocked by the news that he'd forgotten to chew out the Legion messenger, and instead immediately ran to the Fighters Guild to confirm the message (and see what he could do for Yang).

And that had been when he'd found out that nobody could even get a message in or out of Skyrim thanks to reports of dragon and vampire attacks.

Dragon and vampire attacks.

In the Fourth Era.

Just... what...?

Things had only gotten steadily weirder from there.

Reports of a battle between vampire hunters and an ancient vampire clan, rumors of a battle between the Alduin and a Dragonborn, talk of the College of Winterhold unearthing some ancient magical artifact (the fact that there'd been quakes all over Tamriel during that time lent credence to that one)...

And then the Emperor had been assassinated by the Dark Brotherhood (who had somehow survived all this time), the province had fallen into civil war, the Thalmor had begun marching in...

And then the Fifth Legion and the Nord rebels they'd been fighting had marched out of Skyrim together, following an army of dragons, and engaged the Thalmor army.

Apparently, a Dragonborn really had emerged in Skyrim.

He still didn't know if he believed all the rumors flying around, though; if he did, then there were supposedly teams of warriors fighting for the Dragonborn who were all but impervious to anything the Thalmor had, with odd hammers that exploded with the force of thunder, scythes that could kill before you even saw it, and even the ability to split themselves into copies, or summon... things, that couldn't have been from anywhere but Oblivion...

Now, Tai didn't consider himself a coward by any means, but he wasn't a Nord either; he felt gratitude to them for helping protect his home, but he didn't feel the need to seek them out, buy them a drink, or test his skills against theirs.

After all, he was just an old combat instructor; he already considered himself blessed by the Nine that he'd survived the few Thalmor raiding parties that had come to his town (he might have been skilled enough to handle an armed Altmer soldier with his bare hands, but there wasn't much he could do against a Fireball).

Tai sighed, and forcibly put aside the memory of his brushes with death in favor of thinking back on the letter he'd received from the Guild Master.

His boss apparently had a contact in the Companions, and when he'd heard that the Companions were assisting the Skyrim forced he'd written a letter to whoever it was on Tai's behalf, asking for any information regarding Yang.

The reply that he had gotten had been... confusing, to say the least.

All Tai could understand from it was that, for some reason, there were (at least) two lilac-eyed blonde brawlers running around kicking Thalmor ass.

... well, it wasn't like he'd expected faithfulness or fidelity from his ex-wife, and at least that was proof enough his daughter had survived...

But still, did that mean Yang had found the bitch that had walked out on them?

While Tai had told Yang he hadn't needed any answers, he couldn't deny that a part of him was curious.

Just a small part.

Yang's safety was still far more important to him than finding out what Raven had been up to since she'd abandoned them.

Tai sighed again, as his mind went back to deciding his next course of action.

The news had broken three days ago that the last of the Thalmor forces had crossed the border out of Cyrodiil.

Finally, he could leave Bravil with minimal danger, both to him and the town in his absence.

And now, he had a definite lead on where he could begi-

The door suddenly slammed open, and Tai immediately spun around, fists raised.

A blonde woman with lilac eyes casually strode in, waving at him as she shouted: "Hey, Pa!"

Tai's jaw dropped, and he was barely able to choke out: "Yang?!"

"It's been a while." Yang grinned at him in response, before looking around the room. "Huh... this place is a mess... has the Guild been making you pull extra shifts again?"

"Yang... you're alive..." Tai managed to breathe, relief flooding his voice.

"Uh, yeah?" Yang cocked her head at him, confused by his reaction. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I haven't heard from you in over a year!" Tai shouted as he ran forward and hugged her tightly. "I got a message from the Legion that you were caught in an ambush on those damned rebels in Skyrim and sentenced to summary execution without trial..."

"Oh... right..." Yang blinked sheepishly. "I completely forgot about that..."

"How did you forget that?!" Tai pulled away from his daughter to study her incredulously. A visual inspection confirmed what he'd felt; his daughter was easily a lot more muscular than she'd been when she'd left Bravil, and bore a lot more scars, too.

Just what had she been through?

"Well... Alduin showed up and levelled the town just as it was my head on the chopping block, and after I escaped with a Legionnaire he told me he'd help me clear my name." Yang admitted with a shrug. "Honestly, between Alduin's return, meeting Jaune, and taking down my first dragon, the whole "arrest" thing kind of just slipped my mind, you know?"

"..." Tai gawked at his daughter, and tried to process everything he'd heard.

She'd forgotten she'd almost had her head lopped off?!

She'd been there when Alduin had returned?

Alduin had actually returned?!

Who in Oblivion was Jaune?!

And what was that about her first dragon?!

"What do you mean, taking down your first dragon?!" Tai demanded incredulously.

"Oh, right..." Yang nodded in understanding. "I guess Bravil wouldn't have heard about it yet... you know what a Dragonborn is, right, Pa?"

"You mean like the Septims, and whoever it was who subjugated the dragons?" Tai asked.

"Yup." Yang nodded. "That's me."

"..." Tai looked her up and down, before bursting out in a fit of laughter.

Yang just raised an eyebrow at him.

"Oh, by the Nine, that's a good one." Tai rubbed a tear from his eye. "You, the Dragonborn. By Oblivion, that's got to be a story and a half! You went to Skyrim to find your mother and instead found out that you're a child of Akatosh-"

"FUS!"

The house shuddered as Yang turned around and Shouted at the open doorway she'd just stepped through.

Yang smirked smugly as she turned back to her father, and asked: "Believe me now?"

"But... how...?" Tai couldn't help but ask.

"I didn't really get a chance to ask Martin when I used that Elder Scroll." Yang shrugged. "And honestly, between Jaune, the vampires, the dragons, Potema, Hermaeus Mora, the Eye of Magnus, Miraak, and the Thalmor invasion, figuring out why Akatosh picked me was very low on my list of priorities. At the very least, I'm not complaining about actually being able to do something, Pa."

"That's..." Tai took a moment to recollect himself. "Wait, did you just say Potema? As in the Wolf Queen?"

"Yeah, some necromancers were trying to resurrect her in Skyrim, but we put a stop to it." Yang waved her hand flippantly. "She wasn't that tough, honestly."

"... sounds like you've got a lot of stories, Yang." Tai collapsed in a chair, wondering whether his daughter was joking about dealing with a Daedric Prince, an Elder Scroll, and the vampires and dragons.

"Oh, you've got no idea." Yang chuckled, before shaking her head. "But perhaps I'll tell you about it another day, Pa. There's something I need to tell you..."

"Is it about that sister of yours?" Tai asked, taking the chance to try and recover.

"Sister?" Yang blinked.

"Yeah... the Guild Master heard from the Companions that you were spotted with another woman who looks just like you." Tai explained with a wry smile. "So I guess you found Raven, then?"

"... oh, right..." Yang murmured, looking away sheepishly.

"What was that?" Tai raised an eyebrow.

"Uh, about Raven..." Yang began awkwardly. "I... completely forgot about her."

"You... forgot about your mother." Tai repeated incredulously. "The entire reason you went to Skyrim in the first place... and you forgot about her."

"Yup." Yang shrugged. "Hey, you told me yourself she wasn't worth it."

"She isn't." Tai agreed.

"And I was too busy stopping the end of the world to really care about that bitch." Yang nodded. "And after that I was busy figuring out how to jump dimensions to go save my Housecarl-"

"Wait, dimensions?" Tai interrupted in alarm. "And since when do you have a Housecarl?!"

"Long story short, I became Thane of Whiterun after helping them kill a dragon." Yang shrugged. "And I'm also a Thane of Solitude, as well as the Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold."

Tai's jaw dropped again.

"And about my Housecarl and the whole "dimensions" thing..." Yang took a deep breath. "That's... actually what I'm here to talk to you about. Jaune! You can come in now!"

Tai's eyes widened as a blue-haired blonde stepped into the open doorway, and they widened even further as Yang hugged his arm and gave him a quick peck on the cheek as he waved at Tai awkwardly.

"Tai, this is my Housecarl and husband-to-be from another dimension, Jaune." Yang introduced the two. "Jaune, this is my Pa, Tai."

"Hey there, Mr. Xiao-Long." Jaune stepped forward and offered a hand. "It's, uh... it's nice to finally meet you-"

Tai fainted.

-LATER THAT NIGHT-

"Well, that could have gone better..." Jaune muttered in mortification, even as he looked over the new dragonbone blade Yang had gotten for him.

"Eh, I think he liked you." Yang reassured him, even as she removed her top behind him, and breathed a sigh of relief as the tight clothing fell away in the privacy of their room in Bravil's local inn.

"You think so?" Jaune asked, not turning away from his sword to give Yang some privacy even as he ran a finger down it, and compared it to Eorlund's earlier work.

"Trust me; if he didn't, he'd have tried to punch you in the face." Yang grinned.

"I'm pretty sure the only reason he didn't is because he fainted first." Jaune rolled his eyes. "By the way... thanks for the sword, Yang. Caliburn's not bad, but..."

"I can only hope this helps you as the first did in your previous adventures, Jaune." Yang's voice took on a more serious tone.

Jaune winced, but he forced himself to keep looking at his sword as he guiltily tried to reassure her again: "Yang..."

"You don't need to explain, Jaune." Yang cut in sharply, though it lacked any real harshness. "I know I can't stop you from going to this "Chaldea"... and even if I'm going with you, with your luck, something's bound to happen."

"My luck isn't that bad..." Jaune pouted.

"Yes, it is." Yang retorted. "I let you go for two seconds and you ended up lost across multiple dimensions for two years, attracting nearly a dozen women, including an Oblivion-damned King of all things!"

"..." Jaune winced again, knowing that he really couldn't deny that.

Seriously, how in Oum's name that had happened was still beyond him...

"Look... Jaune..." Yang's voice was soft and scared, and suddenly oh-so-close to his ear, and Jaune couldn't help but stiffen up as he felt her breath tickling his neck. "When you didn't return from the battle with Alduin... it was... I... Jaune, I can't lose you again."

"... you won't." Jaune finally replied, reaching a hand backwards to where he'd heard your voice.

"Can you promise me that?" Yang sounded like a pleading girl. "That you'll safely come back from battling a force that is threatening multiple worlds?"

"..." Jaune swallowed and hesitated. Even with his sword, Caliburn, and all the Heroic Spirits Chaldea could summon, he couldn't guarantee anything; there was a reason Shiro and Rin had come looking for him, after all.

Jaune suddenly felt two soft mounds pressing against his back as Yang spoke once more into his ear: "I know you'll do your best... but I won't make the mistake of thinking there will always be later again."

"Yang?!" Jaune yelped out in surprise, before he suddenly felt her pull him backwards.

"I want to cherish what time we have now, Jaune." Yang declared firmly, as Jaune's back hit the bed, before easily mounting him, giving him a clear view of her naked body.

Jaune gulped nervously, but couldn't keep his eyes off of Yang, who stared at him with a hungry glint in her eyes.

"And just to make sure you don't go moving on and forgetting about me again..." Yang looked at him through half-lidded eyes, pleased by his reaction, and gave him a sultry and sly smirk before she leaned forward, pinning him to the bed as she laid a trail of kisses along his neck while fumbling with his belt.

"Let's make tonight a night you'll never forget."

Postscript: And so it was that Jaune did not get a good night's sleep that night (or any other night ever again).

On a more serious note, while I'm sure people remembered that Dragonborn Yang still had Tai as a living family member back in Bravil... I completely forgot that, technically, she had a record (having been apprehended crossing the border).

And thanks to disruptions in communications on account of a) the Skyrim Civil War, b) the Dragon Crisis, c) the Volkihar-Dawnguard War, d) the Assassination of the Emperor, and e) the Second Great War... well, it's very easy to imagine that the last Tai heard of Yang, it would have been her arrest and death sentence.

Poor guy...

And then finding out your daughter didn't just survive, but became a Thane (despite having the manners of... well... Yang), the Arch-Mage of the College (despite having the magical aptitude of a plant), an honest-to-Akatosh dragonslayer and Dragonborn (despite having no relation to the Dragonborn Emperors), and is getting married?

It's a wonder he didn't just get a heart attack.

As for the second half... eh, Dragonborn Yang is a Nord. She doesn't really do grand romantic gestures; her idea of a date is pretty much the kind of everyday adventures she had with Jaune - fighting monsters, finding adventure, and ending off the day with a couple of drinks and sharing their epic stories at the local tavern. At least here the two of them finally address some of her insecurities.

And on the same note... in the end, like I said; Jaune is Jaune. The best Yang can do is make sure he comes back, rather than stopping him from going, and make sure nobody takes advantage of him.

And if that means giving Eorlund enough money to make a dozen more dragonbone blades and getting them all enchanted by Serana, she'd do it without blinking.

Also, unfortunately, Yang forgets to take into account that she definitely can't take care of Jaune in the battlefield while pregnant.

SCENARIO: DFFN (DORK FRIENDS FOR NOW)

"Who is Antler? WHO IS ANTLER?! ... Antler, they ask about you! What do I tell them? ... all right. All right... yes, yes, of course."

"Oum damn it, Blake..." Jaune groaned, burying his face in his hands.

Of all the scenes they'd had to animate from her comic...

And he still couldn't believe she was the author of Knight of Love (last he'd checked, she still couldn't even read or write!), let alone that it had actually been based on him (he hadn't told her everything, but Merlin had been able to fill in the gaps)!

"... Jaune... is the giant purple man talking to a cow skull?" Ruby asked incredulously, watching the video playing on the screen with barely-suppressed laughter.

"Yes." Jaune nodded absently, wondering why he'd ever agreed to this for their movie night. "Yes, he is."

"... and this was the world you were in after you punched that dragon in the face..." Ruby blinked.

"Yup." Jaune nodded. "The same one with the giant death robot and the aliens."

"..." Ruby couldn't help but let loose a small snort.

Jaune pouted at her, and defended himself: "Look, the Wasteland was... weird, alright?"

"I still can't believe that's where you met my copy." Ruby snickered, before sighing wistfully. "At least the weapons there are pretty cool... plasma, lasers, alien death rays... Oum, Other-Ruby's greatsword is really amazing too! I can't believe she made a flaming and electrified sword without Dust!"

"Yeah, and I'm sure Vomit Girl feels the same way about mecha-shift weapons." Jaune answered easily, glad to see at least those two were getting along just fine.

Dragonborn Yang may have gotten along just fine with Yang Xiao-Long (a poor sense of humor transcended dimensions, apparently), but the same certainly could not be said about her and Artoria.

And the less said about Pyr and Courier Pyrrha, the better.

"She does." Ruby nodded excitedly. "She's coming over next week to see if we can apply mecha-shift technology to add a "Tesla cannon" to Arondight, as well as electrify Crescent Rose without using Lightning Dust!"

Jaune couldn't help but smile at Ruby's enthusiasm.

Both Rubys were exactly "people-persons", to put it lightly, and he was glad the two of them were expanding their circle of friends.

"By the way..." Ruby began shyly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "Do... do you want to join us, Jaune? We could try to tune up your weapon, too!"

"I'll pass, Ruby." Jaune wasn't fooled for a moment. "You know me; I'm more of a "classics" kind of guy."

Also, Caliburn had made it very clear that it would only allow him and Artoria to lift it, and it definitely would not tolerate any more attempts at studying or modifying it.

"Says the guy who uses two magic swords and a shield-sheath." Ruby stuck her tongue out at him.

"They're still just swords, Crater Face." Jaune returned the gesture.

"Vomit Boy!" Ruby shot back, before the two burst out into peals of laughter, the Knight of Love anime long-forgotten.

As the pair finally calmed down, and wiped tears from their eyes, Ruby held out a plate of homemade cookies (her mother's own recipe) for Jaune, and hesitantly began: "Hey, Jaune?"

"Yes, Rubes?" Jaune replied between bites.

"When we first met at Beacon... did you ever think our lives would turn out the way they did?" Ruby asked, looking back at the video showing one of Jaune's adventures.

"You mean, you being a hero who stopped the Queen of the Grimm?" Jaune's eyebrow rose again.

"No... well, yes... I mean..." Ruby stuttered, unsure of how to explain herself.

"Don't worry, Ruby, I understand what you're trying to say." Jaune reassured her. "And come on... I didn't even know what Aura was when I joined Beacon! Being a dimension-hopping zombie was right out of the cards!"

"..." Ruby stiffened unconsciously, as she remembered exactly how it had all began.

To his credit, Jaune noticed the awkward silence, and immediately tried to cheer her up: "Ruby... you know it wasn't your fault, right?"

"But..." Ruby protested.

"Nope." Jaune shook his head.

"Nope?" Ruby repeated in surprise.

"Nope." Jaune nodded sagely. "You're not allowed to blame yourself, Ruby. I made the choice to fight Cinder by myself, and I made the choice to protect my first friend at Beacon. And you know what? Knowing everything I do now... I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat."

"You would?" Ruby blinked.

"Sure, there were some rough patches... quite a number of them, actually... but think about it, Ruby." Jaune smiled gently. "That video helped you guys stop Cinder at Haven, and, well... think about all the people we've helped along the way! All the friends we've made! You'd have never learned Skyrim blacksmithing techniques or Wasteland science, and I still made it back home in the end."

"That's..." Ruby found herself lost for words.

"Also, I know my sisters like the extra company, and mom's probably going to adopt Cindy and Blake before the year's over at this rate..." Jaune whispered, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

It honestly wasn't that funny, the idea that another world's version of the woman who had tricked Ruby and killed her best friend being adopted as Jaune's little sister, but it was just so absurd (like the Scroll video showing Jaune and Other-Pyrrha negotiating an agreement between skull-worshipping brutes and radioactive zombies) that she couldn't help but let out a few giggles.

Jaune smiled at the sight of a happy Ruby Rose, and decided to try and use the opportunity to offer: "Say, do you want to just pause the show and go for a few rounds of Amity Arena? Go easy on me, though; I haven't touched this game in a few years..."

"Actually, I was thinking of thinking we could try some of those games Other-Me sent over..." Ruby lightly prodded the arm-mounted Scroll and cartridge Ruby Ironwood had lent her (they still hadn't figured out how to link Scrolls and Pip-Boys yet, though House, the Think-Tank, and the Brotherhood Scribes were determined to crack it eventually), before she looked back at the screen just in time to see...

"Uh, Jaune? Are the ghouls... boarding rocket ships?"

"... damn." Jaune quietly cursed under his breath, and buried his face in his hands again as he answered: "Yes, Ruby. Yes, they are."

"... weren't they looking for a place to call their own?" Ruby blinked.

"Yes, they were." Jaune nodded.

"... and how does-"

"The place Jason Bright saw in his dreams was the Moon." Jaune pre-empted her question. "And yes, there is a colony of religious ghouls living on the Wasteland's Moon."

"... we're watching the rest of this season." Ruby declared, after she'd processed what he'd just said.

"But-"

"Nope." Ruby giggled, clutching his arm as she leaned against him. "Come on, Vomit Boy, it'll be fun!"

The rest of the sleepover was spent interrogating Jaune about his adventures, laughing about the absurdity of the situations he'd found himself in, and Ruby geeking out over the battle scenes (and especially the reveal of the Prydwen and the return of Liberty Prime).

And if either of the two noticed that they were snuggling closer together under their blanket than was socially acceptable for friends to do so, neither of them cared to comment on it.

Postscript: A short, sweet, and simple scenario, for a short, sweet, and simple girl.

Yeah, I'll be blunt; the Remnant Scenarios are, by their nature, going to be less fleshed out and engaging compared to most of the other endings. Why that is, is simply because we've spent so little time in Remnant (only Hell and Hueco Mundo got less screentime), and as this is tagged as a RWBY story, I've kind of been making the assumption that most of the readers are already familiar with most of the RWBY lore and events.

Also, like I've mentioned before, Ruby's interest in Jaune is a bit more... ambiguous, compared to the other three. So, rather than simply jumping into a romantic relationship between the two, I'm opting to just have them be giant dorks for their ending, with a dash of world-building and the potential for the two to develop into something more.

SCENARIO: JNPR (JUST NORMAL PARTNER ROMANCES)

The sound of clashing weapons rang out through the forest's clearing.

Jaune grunted, and pushed against the xiphos with a burst of strength, before dashing forward as the weapon's owner used the force of his blow to push herself back.

Pyrrha, for her part, quickly transformed Milo into its rifle configuration, and began firing rapidly at Jaune, who simply raised his shield as he continued charging at her.

As soon as her feet hit a tree, she immediately kicked off of it, launching herself at him, continuing to fire at him to force him to keep his shield up, before she transformed it into it's javelin form at the last moment, and fired it at him.

Jaune barely heard the sound of something slicing through the air, and instinctively batted it to the side with his shield, giving him a clear view of Pyrrha attempting to drive her shield down into his face.

Instinctively, Jaune's blade rose to deflect Akouo away, and Pyrrha landed in front of him, letting go of her shield to try and cause him to overswing while she ducked underneath his arms.

Just as she kneed him in the gut, however, and his arm caught and pressed it against him, a buzzing sound rang from a nearby Scroll.

The two immediately relaxed, and Jaune took a deep breath as he released Pyrrha's knee.

Pyrrha took a step back to steady herself, before a grin worked its way up her face, and she offered a hand to him while she said: "That was a good fight, Jaune."

"Thanks, Pyr." Jaune beamed at her even as he sheathed his sword and shook her hand. "You, too."

"You've certainly grown a lot..." Pyrrha observed, unable to help the slight frown that graced her face as she began to pick up Milo and Akouo.

It had been one thing to hear about all of the adventures he'd been through, but it was another to see the partner she'd trained go from barely being able to swing a sword properly to holding his own against her, if not almost beating her.

And this had just been a limited spar, using the same rules they'd used when she'd trained him on the Beacon rooftops!

Sure, she didn't get to use her Semblance, but he hadn't used his gun, the elemental effects of his non-metallic dragonbone sword, that laser beam from his weird magic talking sword (that had outright ignored her attempts to (cheat) lift it with Polarity, back when Artoria had challenged them to lift it), or those Shouts that she'd seen Doppelyanger use.

"It's all thanks to you, Pyr." Jaune laughed it off as he helped her by picking up the Scroll.

"..." Pyrrha's worries were gone in an instant, replaced by pride and joy at his words like a switch had been flipped, and she idly twirled a lock of hair as she tried to casually inquire: "Really?"

"Of course!" Jaune nodded firmly as he passed her back her Scroll. "If you hadn't taught me the basics, I'd have never made it through the first day in Skyrim. Hell, if you hadn't helped me through Initiation, I'd have probably died just from trying to land."

"It wasn't just me, Jaune." Pyrrha shook her head with a smile, as she pressed a finger against his chest. "It would have been meaningless if you hadn't put in the effort or had the potential..."

"And I couldn't have done it without a good teacher and partner, Pyr." Jaune refused to let her play her role down.

Pyrrha looked away, fighting down the blush that threatened to spread across her cheeks.

"Huh... looks like there's a problem with your Scroll..." Jaune murmured, leaning closer to check the display. "It says my Aura hasn't even gone down yet."

Pyrrha blinked, and checked the Scroll's reading of their Auras as well.

While hers was in the yellow, his bar still looked full.

"Were you holding back, Pyr?" Jaune pouted at her. "I thought that kick felt a bit weak..."

"It did?" Pyrrha asked incredulously, knowing that she hadn't had the luxury of pulling her punches (or kicks, in this case) during their spar.

Then her eyes widened, as she remembered that discussion she'd had with Dragonborn Yang when they'd first met, and she asked: "Uh... Jaune? Do you know what your Semblance is?"

"My... Semblance?" Jaune thought about it for a second. "Huh... you know... I honestly have no idea. Why? Should it have shown up by now?"

"Um... well..." Pyrrha lightly shifted her weight from one foot to another, as she wondered just how to prove it. "Jaune... you mentioned you could channel your Aura into people, right? Could you try channeling it into me?"

"Uh, okay?" Jaune easily complied with her simple request, and placed a hand on her shoulder before concentrating.

Pyrrha fought the urge to gasp and fidget, as she felt his Aura flooding into her, and instead struggled to focus on her Semblance.

...

Oh.

Pyrrha had never really realized just how much metal there was around her until then, but she felt like she could have moved a mountain at that moment.

"That's enough, Jaune." Pyrrha's voice was remarkably steady, and as Jaune pulled away she asked: "Jaune... you said you've been pouring Aura into just about everyone you've met in your travels, right? Just how much Aura do you think it takes to heal a serious injury?"

"Um... a little bit?" Jaune shrugged in confusion. "I mean, I kept Courier Pyrrha alive until she got to a doctor, and she had two holes in her head."

"Jaune... I don't think the Scroll's broken." Pyrrha explained, pulling it out. Where her Aura was easily back in the green, his remained barely touched, maybe having gone down by the slightest fraction (though that could have easily been their imagination). "Remember how, when I first unlocked your Aura, I told you that you had a lot of it?"

"Yeah?"

"That's exactly it." Pyrrha nodded. "Jaune... just how much Aura do you think someone would need, to keep a person with bullet holes in their head alive? Or how much Aura do you think it'd take, to withstand the explosions of bombs that could turn a continent into a desert?"

Jaune blinked, before his mouth managed to choke out one syllable: "Oh."

"As for your Semblance... we were actually talking it out with Dragonborn Yang when we first met, and we all but confirmed it when we went over to Skyrim." Pyrrha continued her explanation. "We tried channeling our Aura into their enchanted weapons, like she said you did. Jaune... you know how you could make massive walls of ice? We couldn't; the most we could do was simply activate the weapons."

"Pyr... what are you saying?" Jaune still didn't get it.

"Jaune... you were Amplifying the Aura you were pouring into your weapons, and into other people." Pyrrha smiled at him. "I felt it, when I tried to use Polarity while you were pouring Aura into me, too. My Semblance was being Amplified. Jaune... that's your Semblance. You can Amplify Aura."

"But... that's..." Jaune stammered, as he tried to process her words. "So... this... isn't something everyone can do?"

"Of course not!" Pyrrha laughed at his disbelief. "If it was, we wouldn't need doctors or medics!"

"Wow... this is..." Jaune looked down at his glowing hands, as a dumb grin threatened to split his face.

He actually had a Semblance!

Sure, it wasn't anything flashy like Team RWBY's, but it was his!

Then he realized what she'd just said, and he asked:" Wait, so I can Amplify Semblances, too?! How did it feel for you? How do you think that would work with Weiss's, or Ruby's, or Nora's-"

The Scroll buzzed again in Pyrrha's hand, interrupting him, and Pyrrha read the message out: "Hey, guys, I know you two are getting busy, but I hope you don't forget about our double date. Nora."

"Uh oh..." Jaune couldn't help but breathe. "Uh, Pyr? What time is it?"

"Don't worry, Jaune. We've still got some time." Pyrrha winked at him. "Though... we should probably get back and change. You know Nora and Ren have been looking forward to this since you came back."

"Yeah... we've definitely got a lot of catching up to do as a team, too..." Jaune rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, as the two began to walk back to the house. "I still don't know what's more unbelievable - the fact that Nora and Ren finally got "together-together", or the fact that your family and Cardin's built a park in memory to me!"

"Your, uh... disappearance... changed quite a lot of things." Pyrrha smiled sadly at him.

"..." Jaune noticed the subtle shift in her mood, and lightly nudged her shoulder with his as he tried to cheer her up: "You mean, like meeting another world's version of you?"

"Please don't remind me..." Pyrrha groaned, falling for the distraction. "It's... weird, seeing a person with my face so cynical and vulgar..."

"She's not... that bad..." Jaune tried to defend her.

"She called me an exhibitionist and asked me if I enjoyed blue-balling my audience!" Pyrrha protested hotly.

Jaune almost had to bite down on his lip to fight the urge to laugh.

That had certainly been a... fun conversation.

Nora still had the pictures of both Pyr's face and Artoria's, when Courier Pyrrha had interrupted their sparring session.

"I mean, she does have a point about you doing all those jumps and flips in heels..." Jaune conceded, before raising up his hands in mock surrender as she pouted at him. "Come on, Pyr... you know what she's been through..."

"Yeah..." Pyrrha grudgingly admitted, leaning against his shoulder. "It's just... she's so similar, but so different at the same time..."

"Well, she was apparently raised by Yang's mom." Jaune shrugged, before pulling her closer comfortingly. "Hey, don't make the same mistake I did; it's not fair to treat her as you."

"If you say so..." Pyrrha sighed.

"Honestly, I'm lucky Blake was so understanding..." Jaune shook his head, before changing the subject: "Hey, what do you think Ren and Nora actually have planned later?"

"Hmmm..." Pyrrha paused for a moment to think about it. "I... don't really know."

"Really?" Jaune blinked.

"I was trying not to be the third wheel, you know." Pyrrha retorted gently. "Best guess? A trip to the beach, a walk through that park-"

"Oh Oum, no..." Jaune groaned, feeling a sense of pre-emptive embarrassment.

"And, knowing Nora, it'll probably end at that pancake buffet place." Pyrrha finished, rolling her eyes at Jaune's overly-dramatic reaction. Then she leaned closer to him, and lowered her voice into a conspiratorial whisper: "I think Ren's thinking of popping the question tonight."

"Ren?" Jaune echoed. "Really? Not Nora?"

"You'd be surprised."

Postscript: And so Jaune was surprised that night.

Yes, yes, put the pitchforks down, there isn't really much romance in this one either.

Yes, Jaune knows how Pyrrha feels, but neither of them are exactly the most assertive people. They're taking things slow, and letting Team JNPR reconnect as much as they're catching up and going on dates.

And I do think Pyrrha needed to hear that from Jaune, the gratitude he has to her, not just for training him, but for giving him a chance.

On a side note... the power scaling in RWBY is honestly kind of ridiculous when you think about it. Initiation students were already running up pieces of falling debris, and in Volume 2 Team CRDL were reliably blocking gunfire from Pyrrha.

Man, I miss the old fight scenes...

Anyway, the point I was trying to make, is that the Wasteland battles with Jaune vs the Enclave? The amount of agility he's displaying at that point of the story (sprinting up walls of ice and using his enemies as stepping stones) is probably only on the same level as a prospective Beacon Initiate. Of course, that's just agility-wise; strength, endurance, skill, and experience would have put him far beyond most Beacon students by then, to say nothing of his Aura and Semblance and Nameless Blade.

And now I'm wondering how Pyrrha would have fared against the Enclave. The Yellow Death was bad enough; his first teacher would have made the him of back then look like a rock, and while she definitely wouldn't be able to take nearly as many shots as he could, she could just crush their arms and armor with Polarity.

Man, maybe Eden had a point about Aura users dominating the Wasteland in a few generations...

SCENARIO: AFTERLIFE OF JAUNE

"Welcome back, Mr. Arc." House jovially greeted the extradimensional freelancer as soon as he stepped into the penthouse's meeting room. "It is good to see the unfortunate incident you suffered under my employ seems to have left little ill effect on your person."

"I never thought I'd say this, but it's actually good to be back." Jaune admitted with an awkward chuckle, as he looked around the room, and found some comfort in its familiarity.

It wasn't Camelot or home by any stretch of the imagination, but it was a place he could at least rest in, like the Citadel or his apartment back in Fuyuki.

"It is flattering that you feel that way, Mr. Arc." House laughed, before getting down to business: "Now, I trust that you are aware of the nature of your accident?"

"The crashed satellite tried to teleport me, right?" Jaune nodded. "Pyrrha, Sarah, and Ruby explained the details to me."

"Indeed..." House's image nodded on the screen. "I was hoping, though, that you could tell me more about some of the other worlds that you have been to."

"Um... okay?" Jaune's eyebrow rose. "What do you want to know?"

"You do remember what I told you, about my plans for New Vegas?" House asked.

"Right, something about searching for other planets to colonize?" Jaune took a moment to recall the conversation, almost two years ago from his perspective.

"That's correct." House confirmed. "Big Mountain's... "Transportalponder" technology, to use their name for it, opens up unlimited potential for my visions for the future. After all, why bother searching for another Earth-like planet, if I can simply search for other Earths?"

"That... sounds kind of risky." Jaune pointed out. "Trust me; some of these other dimensions can be... dangerous, to put it bluntly."

"Which is why I'm asking for your expertise, Mr. Arc." House conceded the point. "Rest assured, though; I have no interest in invasion and conquest. Ideally, I would look for an Earth where no species ever rose to dominance, but I am more than willing to settle for a dimension that I can simply do business with. So... what kind of dangers have you faced? Ms. Lyons and Ms. Ironwood told me some of the stories you shared, but I hope you can understand that I have some difficulty believing them. Not that I don't trust them, but it is the nature of memory to become... embellished, over time."

"Yeah, that's fair." Jaune nodded in understanding. "Well, to start..."

-ONE RECOUNTING LATER-

"My God..." House breathed, trying to process what he'd just been told.

Demons, dragon, vampires, evil gods... it was almost too much to believe.

Almost.

As unbelievable as it sounded, Jaune had proven himself to be reliable and trustworthy, and as a businessman and CEO House prided himself on knowing when to be decisive, and when take a step back and listen to the advisors he was consulting.

"Well, there were some good parts too." Jaune mused with a smile, before shaking his head. "But yeah, maybe you should stick to Remnant for now..."

"I'll take it under advisement, Mr. Arc." House promised, before deciding to end their conversation there: "Now, I do believe Ms. Nikos is waiting for you outside the Lucky 38. Please, do take care during your tour of the Vegas area, Mr. Arc."

"Alright, thanks House." Jaune waved to the giant computer as a Securitron opened the door for him. "Thanks, Jane."

"Say hi to Ms. Nikos for me, sugar." The Securitron waved at him, as he boarded the elevator.

"So... how did it go?" Courier Pyrrha asked him, as soon as he reached the ground floor. "Did he believe you?"

"Yeah, he did." Jaune nodded, before a thoughtful look crossed his face. "Though, now I can't help but wonder..."

"Wonder what?" Pyrrha raised an eyebrow.

"How Alduin or a Baron of Hell would've fared against a couple of nukes."

"I pray we never have to find out." Pyrrha remarked, only half-jokingly.

Honestly, she still found it hard to believe that Jaune wasn't simply an archangel, but was instead just an average ordinary human.

From another dimension.

With near-godlike abilities.

Who was friends with demigods.

And had fought and defeated actual gods and the Legions of Hell.

But he totally wasn't an archangel.

Apparently, humans in his dimension just had divine light, or "Aura" as they called it.

Though they at least conceded that his ability to travel dimensions and wield a holy sword was not ordinary, to say nothing of the fact he'd apparently been declared a Saint in another world.

... she personally would have found the "Jaune is an angel" explanation far simpler, but even the demigods she'd talked to had laughed it off.

... though Saint Jeanne had given it some thought...

Pyrrha shook her head, deciding to put it out of mind despite the fact she felt like something was nagging at her.

Jaune had said he wasn't divine, his family had said he wasn't divine, and most divine entities had said he probably wasn't divine.

It didn't change what he'd done, both for her and for the people of the Wasteland, and she wouldn't let him deny his deeds.

It didn't change the fact that she would follow him forever even if really he wasn't an angel.

Still, though, she couldn't help but feel like she was forgetting something.

"You okay, Pyrrha?" Jaune's concerned voice shook her out of her thoughts.

"I'm sorry?" Pyrrha blinked.

"You looked like there was something on your mind, Pyrrha." Jaune pressed.

"Just... thinking about everything I've learned in the past few weeks." Pyrrha smiled at him, technically telling the truth.

"Well, you did guess I was from another dimension after that fight in the Divide." Jaune obliviously reminded her. "So it can't be that bad."

"Uh... right..." Pyrrha looked away, unwilling to correct his misconception. "Of course I fucking did. It was really obvious, after all..."

"Yeah, I guess I wasn't really trying to hide it..." Jaune rubbed the back of his head sheepishly as he took a look around. "Man, I can't believe all of that, the Divide, the Second Battle of Hoover Dam, and me getting kicked out of this world, was just three months ago."

"It was... what, two years ago, for you?" Pyrrha inquired as casually as she could manage.

"Somewhere around there." Jaune waved a hand nonchalantly, before shaking his head. "That's not what I meant, though. Remember what the Mojave was like, back when we were heading to Vegas?"

"Of course." It was a statement of fact; Pyrrha would never forget her adventures with Jaune.

"So..." Jaune gestured around as they left the Strip Gate and entered Freeside. "Do you think you and House have turned it into what the Divide could have been?"

"..." Pyrrha followed his gaze, and saw the bustling crowds around them. Sure, Freeside was still a collection of ruined buildings loosely managed by the Kings, but there was something different in the air.

She couldn't quite place it or name it (though Ruby Ironwood and Sarah Lyons would later identify the difference for them, after they finished laughing at their story), but whatever it was, the people moved with a different energy, and were those homeless beggars sharing food and water?

Pyrrha blinked, and did a double take.

Nope, the weak and needy were actually helping each other instead of fighting over scraps.

"It's... getting there..." Pyrrha weakly conceded, fighting down her shock.

Just how much had the Mojave changed while she'd been running around the Big Empty?!

Regardless, something told her she wouldn't be calling it a "dump" for much longer.

"Well, hopefully you and Ulysses will be able to call it a home soon enough..." Jaune wished out loud, before noticing a commotion outside the Old Mormon Fort.

A crowd was forming outside its gates, as Followers of the Arcpocalypse, Freesiders, and New Canaanites all fought to get onto the streets of Freeside, and stare at the pair.

"Look, over there!"

"It's him!"

"Just as Joshua described!"

"But how? They said he had been taken up!"

"Can't be; he's right over there!"

"A sign! It is a sign!"

"He has been returned to us!"

"Let us pray!"

"Uh... Pyrrha?" Jaune's voice was wary and cautious, as the crowd began moving towards them. "Is this... normal?"

Pyrrha winced, as she finally remembered what had been nagging at her.

She hadn't been the only one who'd thought he was an angel.

"I think we should go back to the Lucky 38..." Pyrrha advised, already pullimg him back just as the first cries began to reach their ears:

""THE ARC-ANGEL HAS RETURNED!""

Postscript: Yorokobe, Wasteland; the Arc-Angel walks among you once more!

I'll be honest, this one would have been longer, but I didn't see the point in basically typing out the entirety of Life of Brian when you can watch the highlights on YouTube.

What, did you really want to see the entirety of Freeside bargaining with House's Securitrons and Courier Pyrrha to see Jaune while they enact a Monty Python skit? I mean, granted, the Fallout universe is certainly wacky enough for that to actually happen, but Biggus Dickus is already dead along with the rest of Caesar's Legion.

And yes, by this point in the afterstory, Pyrrha has already accepted that Jaune isn't an angel. Of course, her mindset is now both "Jaune did all that bullshit, and he's human, so we should all aspire to be like him", and "if Jaune doesn't deserve my worship, no entity ever will"...

As for the demigods Courier Pyrrha mentions... Dragonborn Yang is pretty much a demigod, when you think about it. Skyrim dragons are all children of Akatosh, and Dragonborn Yang is a mortal with the soul of a dragon. Artoria Pendragon, while technically not a demigod (FATE dragons are not divine, as far as I can tell), is similar enough to Dragonborn Yang, and uses a holy blade and holy lance, so Courier Pyrrha sees no functional distinction. And the Doom Slayer did canonically take a spin in a Divinity Machine...

And you have to remember... the Wasteland is set in a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Beneath the wacky zaniness, humanity has spent the past two hundred years fighting over the scraps of their previous civilization, trying to survive the nightmares their forebears created. It is a harsh, bleak, and desolate place... and that is exactly why I appreciate it so much.

In general, paranoia and mistrust is both accepted and encouraged, given the prevalence of Raiders and bandits, and the scarcity of supplies.

But give Man the opportunity, and an example to follow?

It is exactly because the setting is so dark, that the spark of compassion can shine so brightly, and inspire so much (cue Chairbound Prankster).

And unlike the grimdarkness of a far future, it isn't all for naught.

Here, there can be lasting change, meaningful victory, as people rediscover their spirit, and focus less on mere day-to-day survival and start thinking more about the future; even if the spark goes, the fire's already been lit.

That's the change that was sweeping over the Mojave Wasteland, similarly to how it swept over the Capital Wasteland after the publication of the Wasteland Survival Guide, the success of Project Purity, and the rise of the Lyons' Brotherhood of Steel.

Hope, faith, the power of friendship, the difference the right man in the wrong place can make... it's cheesy, it's cliche, it's naive and idealistic, and I don't give a toss. This is a generic isekai story, after all, and look how much difference the protagonists of Bethesda games can make by themselves.

On a side note, while House and Remnant would both benefit from mutual cooperation, the very existence of Semblances like Qrow's and Clover's would probably make House think twice about opening his casinos to anybody with a Semblance.

SCENARIO: ANOTHER WASTELAND NEEDS YOUR HELP

"I just don't get it..." Jaune groaned, as he paced back and forth around the room. "How in Oum's name could this have happened?"

"Only you, Arc." Sarah Lyons rolled her eyes sympathetically as she watched him. "Would you like me to congratulate you on your new position, or should I just skip straight to falling on my knees in prayer?"

"Not funny, Sarah." Jaune pouted at her, before continuing his rant: "Seriously, why the hell would anybody worship me as an angel of all things?!"

"... on a more serious note, I should have warned you about it..." Sarah placed a hand on his shoulder companionably, as she decided to do both of them a favor and avoid the question. "I was working with House when the New Canaanites you helped at Zion first showed up, but with all the chaos of getting you back, it just kind of slipped my mind."

"... yeah, I guess I can see that." Jaune conceded the point, and plopped himself down on the bed. "That was a pretty crazy day... I still can't believe there's an organization like Chaldea..."

Honestly, Sarah had been referring to the whole "King Arthur appearing in a flash of light onto the bridge of the Prydwen, and declaring Jaune to have been her betrothed" deal, but she couldn't help but think back on her first day in Remnant, not after he'd brought it up.

"Are you really that surprised that you're being asked to save a world again, Arc?" Sarah asked wryly, raising an eyebrow. "Or are you just trying not to think about how four women told you they loved you in under a minute?"

"..." Jaune quickly looked away, his face burning, as Sarah smacked him lightly on the back and did her best to ignore the odd sensation bubbling in her gut. "Yeah... it's... well, "complicated" would be an understatement..."

Sarah Lyons privately agreed; Jaune Arc may have been one of her closest male friends, but she really didn't want to get involved in that clusterfuck.

As far as she was concerned, smuggling him out of the Lucky 38 and away from the Arc-Angel cultists made them more than even.

"Trust me, Arc, I know what you mean." Sarah decided to do him a favor and change the subject, both for the sake of the weird bloatflies in her gut and his pride. "Most of the bridge crew were in shock when... King Artoria suddenly appeared in a flash, and said that she knew you..."

Jaune, however, missed his cue, and instead upset the bloatflies in her stomach more as he shook his head and mused: "Don't get me wrong, I'm happy that she's given up her Kingship and decided to find something that makes her happy... but I can't believe she came after me. Hell, I still can't believe that all of you came after me."

"Hey, the Pride never leaves behind one of its own, Arc." Sarah sternly reprimanded him. "And you are one of us. I know the Lyons' Pride considered it an irredeemable black mark, that we couldn't get you out safely at Adams."

"I thought I was still an Initiate who was listed as AWOL, MIA, and KIA?" Jaune asked wryly, deciding to lighten the mood.

"You are." Sarah nodded, before her smile became gentle. "But you're still an AWOL Initiate in the Lyons' Pride."

"What do all those acronyms actually stand for, anyway?" Jaune inquired curiously.

"Right... you probably wouldn't know..." Sarah murmured, mentally smacking herself. "AWOL stands for Absent Without Official Leave, MIA is Missing in Action, and KIA is Killed in Action."

"... ah..." Jaune nodded. "... wait, I got kicked out of this dimension by a faulty teleporter!"

"And that isn't an official reason on any of our forms, Arc." Sarah pointed out with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Seriously?" Jaune blinked. "There's still paperwork in the Wasteland?"

"Trust me, you'd be surprised." Sarah groaned, stretching her back. "One of the things I miss about just being a Sentinel; I just had to write a few reports, not read through every single one of them in the Citadel."

"I can't wait to see the Citadel now." Jaune sighed wistfully. "You and Ruby told me the Capital Wasteland's changed a lot in the past few years, right?"

"It really has." Sarah smiled.

"Well, as long as they don't think I'm some sort of angel too, I'm sure it'll be fine." Jaune murmured.

Sarah had to hide her wince.

Sure, none of them believed that he was an angel, and most of the Wasteland didn't buy into the Pendragon Cult (no matter how much the Brotherhood tried to proselytize), but she still didn't want to imagine his reaction if he found out they'd spent the past five years believing he was the reincarnation of one of his best female friends.

Artoria's appearance had definitely not helped in that regard (there was a reason she'd forced Jaune to hide in the depths of the Prydwen, rather than letting the rest of the Brotherhood know he was on board), and she was still determined to make sure nobody found out he had actually drawn the Sword in the Stone.

Fortunately, Ruby Ironwood didn't know the significance of the revelation (she'd managed to keep the existence of the Pendragon Cult a secret from her, after all), and the Courier just didn't give a fuck (one of the few things she could appreciate about that fanatic).

As if summoned by her thoughts, the door opened, and Ruby Ironwood barged in, asking: "Hey, Sarah, Arthur's call-"

Ruby's voice died away as Sarah immediately leapt back from Jaune, who waved at her and said: "Hey, Vomit Girl!"

"Jaune?" Ruby blinked in surprise. "I didn't know you were on the Prydwen!"

"It's... a long story..." Jaune rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

"It's Arc, after all." Sarah sighed in resignation.

"So, what are you doing here, Invincible Boy?" Ruby asked, trying to casually lean against the door frame. "I thought you were still in the Mojave with that luna- with Nikos."

"Arc found out that half of Vegas sees him as an angel." Sarah snorted, jerking a thumb at her friend.

"Is that what all that commotion outside the Strip was about?" Ruby sighed, rubbing her temples as Jaune pouted at the two of them.

"It's not my fault!" Jaune defended himself. "I don't even know why!"

"I think Nikos could probably answer that question for you." Ruby did her best to keep her hostility from her voice.

"The Courier's still trying to manage the situation along with House with minimal bloodshed." Sarah explained. "In the mean time, it was decided that the best course of action was for Jaune to remove himself from the situation, and let it de-escalate naturally."

-STRIP SOUTH GATE, FREESDIE, MOJAVE WASTELAND-

"And what if the Arc-Angel told you all to just fuck off and go away?!"

""...""

"... how shall we fuck off, oh prophet?"

"Please tell me I wasn't this bad..."

-PRYDWEN, SOMEWHERE OVER THE FORMER CONTINENTAL UNITED STATES-

"I'm sure Pyrrha can handle it." Jaune confidently reassured them. "Anyway, what's up, Ruby?"

"Eh, Arthur just wanted to see Sarah about something." Ruby waved it away easily, almost vibrating in her excitement. "More importantly, so you're heading back to the Wasteland with us? I can't wait to show you around the new Citadel!"

Sarah looked at the pair of idealists with a complicated smile, before shaking her head and joining in: "She means, she can't wait to ask you to help her out with that new dragonbone blade you gave her."

"Sarah!" Ruby wailed.

"Hey, don't look at me." Jaune held up his hands. "I only just found out that most people's Auras aren't nearly as bullshit as mine is..."

"What is it, again? Aura... Multiplication?" Ruby asked.

"Amplification." Jaune corrected her gently. "Apparently, I can amplify the effects of my Aura. Combine that with the fact that I can somehow run the sword on my Aura, and... well... apparently nobody else managed to make ice walls with an enchanted sword..."

""..."" Sarah and Ruby shared a look.

"It's Jaune." Ruby giggled, after a brief silence.

"It's Arc." Sarah rolled her eyes.

"Hey!" Jaune protested. "What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Anyway, I still can't believe someone actually broke Excalibur..." Ruby leaned forward, and poked at the gilded sword hanging by his waist, which glowed brightly in protest. "Or that you found this sword in a stone..."

"Excalibur?" Jaune blinked. "Artoria's new sword is Excalibur, not mine..."

"Well, for some reason, everyone in the Brotherhood called it "Excalibur"." Ruby shrugged.

"Huh..." Jaune thought about it for a moment. "Come to think of it... they did also call me "the Pendragon", back at Hoover Dam..."

"Hey, Ruby!" Sarah interrupted the two dorks, a bit more loudly than was strictly necessary. "How did the mecha-shift stuff work out, anyway?"

"Oh..." Ruby's face fell, before brightening. "Well... it's not possible, with all the modifications I've already made to Arondight... so the other Ruby gave me some of that dragonbone and enchanted ice stuff from Skyrim, as well as copies of the blacksmith's notes! We'll be working together to make Arondight 2.0, hopefully incorporating Ice Dust and Tesla cannon technology into it!"

"And what will the other form be?" Jaune inquired curiously.

"Well... the other Ruby kept telling me to make the sword transform into a scythe." Ruby Ironwood admitted with a pained look on her face. "I suggested just making it turn into a Tesla cannon instead, and have the spare parts serve as shielding, but half of our goal is to have the sword shoot out bolts of lightning anyway... so we settled for trying to have it transform into a sniper rifle, that fires bolts of lightning..."

Jaune had no idea what she'd said, but she seemed enthusiastic, so Jaune decided to simply smile and nod.

"I think letting the two of them meet was a bad idea, Arc." Sarah spoke up. "I'm getting major mad scientist vibes from them..."

"I'm sure it's nothing to be worried about..." Jaune laughed it off. "After all, this happens in Remnant all the time... supposedly..."

Based on the weapons he'd seen in Beacon...

"We don't have the benefit of Aura, Arc." Sarah pointed out, rolling her eyes.

"Well, I mean... I didn't either, until after I got launched off a cliff..." Jaune looked away sheepishly. "Anyway, as long as they don't try to do anything to Liberty Prime or the Prydwen... it should be fine, right?"

"Hey, I've got an idea!" Ruby suddenly injected herself into the conversation excitedly. "What if I make a super sledge for you or Cross that doubles as a Fat Man?"

"... no." Sarah refused as soon as she realized what Ruby had just suggested. "Just no."

"You've been talking to Nora, too, haven't you..." Jaune groaned, burying his face in his hands.

"Maybe..." Ruby laughed, holding up her hands to show that she was kidding.

"I draw the line at nukes, Ruby, miniature or otherwise." Sarah said firmly, crossing her arms.

"Well, duh." Ruby rolled her eyes. "Close-range nukes? We'd never escape the blast radius... your teammate is seriously fun, by the way, Jaune."

"She always was the energy of the team." Jaune nodded indulgently. "But you really shouldn't take her ideas too seriously... she once had a dream about selling Grimm pelts..."

"But... don't Grimm dissolve away when you kill them?!" Ruby pointed out.

Jaune just raised a hand and shrugged in response.

Sarah groaned, finding the idea of people that made Arc look sane to be one big throbbing headache.

Before their conversation could continue, however, hurried footsteps could be heard approaching their direction, and they turned just as Arthur Maxson appeared at the doorway, breathing heavily as he asked: "Sentinel Ironwood, have you found the Elder ye- the Pendragon?!"

"See, there it is again!" Jaune turned to Sarah with confusion evident in his eyes.

"What's wrong, Lancer-Captain?" Sarah snapped, before Maxson could take a knee before Jaune (or he could ask any damning quesitons). "What's so urgent?"

"Right..." Arthur looked between the three occupants of the room, and decided to prioritize duty over protocol. "Elder Lyons, do you remember Dr. Madison Li?"

"One of the former top scientists of Project Purity." Sarah snapped easily, waving her hand. "Left the Capital Wasteland after the Second Battle at the James Ironwood Memorial, and went to the Commonwealth. Why?"

"She just made contact with one of our expeditionary forces operating in the Commonwealth, Ma'am." Maxson explained, as Ruby began tuning in to the Prydwen's radio frequencies with her Pip-Boy.

"We'll take it from here, Maxson." Sarah nodded to him, as Ruby found the correct frequency, and her Pip-Boy's speakers came to life in a blare of static. "Dismissed."

"-told you, I'll only talk to Elder Lyons of James's daughter-"

"Dr. Li?" Ruby cut in, as Maxson left the room, and the three of them crowded around her arm. "Is that you?"

"Ruby? Oh, thank god." Dr. Madison Li's voice responded over the radio. "It's good to see you're okay."

"Dr. Li, this is Elder Sarah Lyons." Sarah announced. "I doubt this is a social call, doctor; what's wrong?"

"It's the Institute." Madison spat, venom audible even through the distortion. "I left the Brotherhood to join them because I could do more good with them... but what they're doing here... it's just wrong! I know we've had our disagreements, Lyons, and there's nothing I can offer, but I need the Brotherhood of Steel to intervene, to come to the Commonwealth and stop the Institute!"

"... we'll see what we can do, Li, but I can't make any promises." Sarah reluctantly conceded, knowing Jaune and Ruby would never allow her to turn away Madison Li. "We're just coming back from a campaign against Caesar's Legion, in what used to be Nevada-"

"Please, Ms. Lyons." Another voice cut in through the static. "They took my family, and according to the good doctor they've been harvesting them for biological material for their "Synths"."

"I can confirm her statement, Lyons." Madison took over from her impassioned plea. "I saw it with my own eyes, and I'm the one who thawed Ms. Valkyrie out of her cryopod in Vault 111. Her family was specifically chosen as they had been preserved from before the Great War; their biology was untainted by radiation, to an even greater extent than your typical Vault Dweller."

"We'll take care of it, Dr. Li." Jaune promised.

"Arc?" Dr. Li's voice was incredulous. "Is that you?! How are you-"

"Long story." Ruby interrupted her. "But we'll stop this "Institute", and get Ms. Valkyrie's family back."

"Oh, thank you, thank you so much! And please, call me Nora." The voice sounded so grateful that Jaune almost missed what she'd said. "My name is Nora Valkyrie... don't get any bright ideas, though; I have a husband and son - Lie Ren and Jaune."

Postscript: And so continues the adventures of the Brotherhood of Steel, as Dr. Madison Li's defection kicks off the events of Fallout 4 five years before it should have begun in canon, and the veterans of the Brotherhood-Enclave War, the Sierra Madre, the Big Empty, and the Pit are probably not going to take kindly to the amoral scientists of the Institute, who kill and replace survivors of the Commonwealth with Synths, and treat them like guinea pigs in their pursuit of progress at any cost, including humanity.

May the Arc-Angel have mercy on their souls, for the Knights of the Citadel shall have none to spare.

Yes, this scenario happens after AFTERLIFE OF JAUNE, yes, this focuses more on Sarah Lyons and Jaune Arc than Ruby Ironwood, and yes, this is the reason why I never made an alternate version of Nora or Ren.

Like I said, these scenarios aren't necessarily mutually exclusive; if Courier Pyrrha ever wants to get into a romantic relationship with Jaune, she first has to stop putting him on a pedestal and start seeing him as something attainable.

And like I've mentioned - Sarah Lyons was raised to be a leader, a soldier, a warrior. She still hasn't figured out what she even feels, and so she treats Jaune simply as a good friend.

And as a good friend, she is blunt, and would rather just speak her mind than try to spare his feelings.

Also, I'm sorry... I couldn't resist the addition of one Life of Brian scene...

SCENARIO: GRAND ORDER (OF SABERFACES)

The first thing she knew, was that there was a blindingly bright light in front of her.

And then, as the bright blue light faded, she took a look at her surroundings, and found herself in a wide room, standing on a familiar-looking circle.

Then, as information slowly began to enter her brain, she suddenly noticed a white-haired girl staring at her in shock.

Her first thought was to wonder if she'd been summoned by the Einzberns again (despite winning the Grail War for them and having already won the Grail War), but closer examination showed that the white-haired girl lacked the red eyes that marked an Einzbern homunculus.

That was a relief.

While she had successfully won the Fourth Grail War with Kiritsugu's help, she couldn't deny that she held a certain distaste for the man.

More importantly, though, why had she been summoned again?

She'd succeeded in her goals.

She should have now been serving the World, right?

No matter.

She was here, now.

Clearly, she had been summoned for a task.

And as such, there was only one thing she could do.

"I ask of you, are you my Master?" Artoria asked, her bearing stiff and regal.

"Oh, uh... yes!" Shiro stammered, still put off by the appearance of yet another Artoria.

"I respond to your summons." Artoria declared, bowing her head. "I am your Servant, Lancer. With my spear of the farthest reaches of the world, I will become your power."

"You're... a Lancer?" Shiro couldn't help but ask, raising an eyebrow. "Not a Rider?"

"Yes." Artoria answered stiffly. "Is there a problem?"

"... no, it's noting." Shiro shook her head, deciding it didn't really matter. "Anyway, welcome to Chaldea, Lancer. I suppose you must be wondering why you have been summoned here?"

"I am indeed, yes." Lancer Artoria nodded, as Shiro motioned for her to follow. "I suppose the World has need of me once more?"

"Something like that." Shiro replied with a shrug. "Apparently, something's wiping out the futures of Human History in some Parallel Worlds, and so we're assembling a force of Magi and Servants to fight."

"I see..." Artoria couldn't help the pang in her heart, as she processed her Master's words, and was immediately reminded of a certain blonde dimensional traveler.

She forced down the emotions, however, refusing to indulge in them. The fate of another World was at stake, and more importantly she'd already done what she could.

All she could do now, was satisfy herself with the knowledge that her actions had allowed her... another her... to find happiness with him.

"..." Shiro noticed the look on her newest Servant's face, and sighed, before quietly offering: "... look, Lancer... something's clearly on your mind..."

"It is nothing, Master." Lancer Artoria shook her head. "This situation just brought up some... pleasant memories."

"Uh huh." Shiro said drily, before deciding to hope that this colder and less-expressive Artoria valued blunt honesty as much as her other counterparts. "Lancer... I know your real name is Artoria Pendragon. I know your story-"

"How do you know that?" Lancer Artoria stiffly demanded, backing away from her.

"I summoned a Rider version of you, during the Fifth Fuyuki Grail War." Shiro quickly explained.

"The Fifth?" Lancer Artoria's eyebrow rose. "That's... odd. I remember winning the Fourth, and using my wish to... well, it's irrelevant now. Regardless, why would I have participated in the Fifth?"

"Huh... maybe you're from a different timeline?" Shiro suggested. "Because, in my timeline, you were ordered to destroy to the Grail before you could use it, because the Grail had been tainted a Zoroastrian evil god known as Angra Mainyu."

"I... see..." Lancer Artoria closed her eyes, and hoped that Angra Mainyu hadn't tainted her wish either. "Well, regardless, though you seem to have known the me of then well, please bear in mind that the me of now is different."

"Sure, no problem." Shiro nodded. It helped that she already had experience with that. "Then... it's nice to meet you, Lancer."

"Likewise." Lancer Artoria nodded, deciding that she liked this Master better than her previous one already.

The tour of the facility went smoothly enough; the metallic walls of the hallways she walked through felt empty and sterile, but the cafeteria was apparently well-stocked (she ignored the pang in both her heart and stomach), the technology seemed to be easily centuries ahead of what she'd seen during the Fourth Grail War, and the two even began talking a bit about one another, with Shiro hoping to build some trust between them (unfortunately, being Kiritsugu's adopted daughter didn't win her any favors, nor did the fact that she could also use a gun).

And then she ran into two of the other Servants.

As Artoria caught sight of the two sandy-colored armored women walking down a corridor, engaged in deep discussion, she unintentionally tensed up.

Saber Velvet and Lancer Velvet both noticed the sudden change in the atmosphere, and looked up to see Lancer Artoria staring at them.

Saber Velvet immediately took a knee, and greeted her: "Your Highness! What are you doing here?"

"... that's the King?" Lancer Velvet sounded completely shocked, as she looked back and forth between the two of them.

"Right... the King hasn't revealed her sex yet, for you..." Saber Velvet murmured, recalling that this younger version of her hailed from a time before she'd gotten the Crocea Mors.

Lancer Artoria, meanwhile, looked at the two Velvets with a mixture of distaste and sympathy.

Regardless of Velvet's actions at Camlann, it didn't change the fact that Velvet had sabotaged that spell...

Wincing, Shiro quickly explained: "Uh, Velvet... this version of Artoria never went through the Fifth Holy Grail War."

"Oh..." Saber Velvet understood immediately. "... then, please allow me to give you some space, Your Highness."

"... have a good day, Sir Velvet." Lancer Artoria forced out, more out of polite instinct than any true good intentions as the pair of Velvets took their leave.

"... for what it's worth, the two of you did eventually make up, during the Fifth Grail War." Shiro quietly offered to the stiff woman, as she watched their retreating backs. She ad felt like she'd been forgetting something, and as the two left she figured that she'd simply forgotten about how aawkward Artoria and Velvet had been.

"How did I ever do so?" Lancer Artoria couldn't help but ask.

"It's..." Siro began, before she had to fight a wince as she remembered exactly how it had happened. "... it's a very long story."

"Perhaps another day, then." Lancer Artoria politely declined.

"... well, I guess I'll show you to your room?" Shiro asked awkwardly.

Lancer Artoria merely nodded.

The mood was somber, as the pair made their way towards the living quarters.

And unfortunately for them, they didn't make it there without running into anyone.

"That latest episode was very fun to watch, if I do say so myself."

"I know, right? I never thought I'd be able to see his exploits on a moving picture."

"I still can't believe that the me of the future actually creating drawings depicting my mentor's deeds, let alone that it would be... what is the word? Animated?"

Shiro fought the urge to bury her head in her hands and groan, and instead settled for wondering if the World just hated her, as three blondes turned the corner, and ran into the pair.

Lancer Artoria once again stiffened, and the trio's eyes went wide, as they ran into each other.

""Master?""

"Ah, if it isn't my Master's student. And that is..."

"Lancer Artoria." Shiro introduced her. "And this is... Saber Artoria, Saber Artoria Lily, and Ruler Jeanne."

Lancer Artoria prided herself on being able to hide her emotions, but even she couldn't keep the shock from appearing on her face as she saw the two younger versions of herself, both still looking like she had when she'd first drawn the Sword from the Stone.

She'd forgotten she'd once been so small...

There were differences between the two, though; one's eyes were sharper, her armor and furs more regal, and her hair was in a neat bun, while the other held a far more innocent gaze, and wore her hair in a simpler ponytail, along with being dressed in a far less decorated metal armor.

Also, the former wielded Excalibur, and the latter carried Caliburn.

"I... guess they're past versions of you, Lancer?" Shiro weakly tried, as Lancer Artoria continued watching the two.

"Well, at least this is less awkward than when I was summoned by myself." Ruler Jeanne shook her head.

"... if I may ask..." Saber Artoria couldn't keep the curiosity from her voice. "... how did I...?"

"Grow so much?" Lancer Artoria knew herself well enough to know what she was getting at (the envious gaze she kept dropping towards her chest wasn't missed either). Taking a deep breath, she warned her: "Something happened, and I lost someone important... something that made me cast aside Excalibur and Avalon in favor of Rhongomyniad..."

"Someone important?" Saber Artoria Lily blinked in confusion. "Who? Kay? Ector?"

Saber Artoria, however, having already been through the feasts and the dances, somberly asked: "Do you mean... Jaune?"

Lancer Artoria could only nod, looking away as Saber Artoria took in a quick breath through gritted teeth.

"How?" Saber Artoria demanded, not wanting to lose her advisor, and someone who she wished could be much more.

Saber Artoria Lily could only look on between the two. Sure, Jaune was a good friend (he was basically her only friend, since Kay was her stepbrother and Merlin her godfather), but she couldn't understand casting aside her sword for him (namely because she couldn't even comprehend losing him).

"Our sister." Lancer Artoria spat in disgust.

"But... why?" Saber Artoria pressed.

"To hurt us." Lancer Artoria's fist could have crushed a rock. "She does all that, because she knows it will hurt us the most."

Saber Artoria looked away, unwilling to comprehend such a deed being performed out of such petty spite.

Saber Artoria Lily, however, whose feelings had yet to bloom, simply cocked her head to the side as she asked: "How does that work?"

""..."" Lancer Artoria and Saber Artoria both looked to their younger counterpart.

"Well, I used the power of the Grail to avert that, in my world." Lancer Artoria reassured her, before frowning. "Though... that seems to be a different World from this one..."

"If it's any consolation, you meet Jaune again, during the Fifth Grail War." Shiro offered quietly, before her eyes widened, as she remembered exactly what had slipped her mind. "Oh, shi-"

"What do you mean?" Lancer Artoria rounded on her. "What happens to Jaune Arc? How does he get involved in a Grail War?"

"Uh..." Shiro was beginning to sweat bullets, as she discreetly checked her watch, and hoped that it was fast.

It wasn't.

"So, these are the living quarters?" A very familiar male voice asked, one that had the Artorias and Jeanne immediately turning towards its source, their ears perking up.

"Indeed, they are-" Jeanne's voice sounded.

"Are the rooms sound-proofed?" An unfamiliar voice idly asked.

"Is fornication the only thing on your mind?!" Artoria's voice snapped. "And could you stop clinging on to him?!"

As Shiro watched with apprehensive dread, unable to take her eyes off of the scene, four blondes rounded the corner, and ran into the Artorias and Jeanne.

The first was basically a copy of Ruler Jeanne, except perhaps slightly older.

The second was basically a copy of Lancer Artoria, except she carried Excalibur, and her clothes were casual and comfortable, rather than regal and protective.

The third, a lilac-eyed blonde, would have gotten no attention from them if not for the fact that she were clinging on to the arm of the fourth.

And the fourth...

Was the man Lancer Artoria missed the most.

Everyone in the room froze, as they caught sight of each other, and calmly analyzed the situation.

"..." Jaune broke the silence first, as he turned to Blake, and asked: "Is this what you meant by Chaldea can get a bit confusing?"

"Pretty much..." Blake conceded. "At least the Artorias are easy enough to tell apart; the Ruler Servant is basically me before I took Morgan's offer."

"J-Jaune...?" Lancer Artoria asked timidly, as she slowly approached him, reaching out for him. "Is... is that really you?"

"Uh... yeah, it's me, Artoria." Jaune raised an eyebrow, confused by her reaction.

Lancer Artoria visibly recoiled at that, and asked: "H-how did you-?"

"Arc, this Artoria comes from the Fourth Grail War." Shiro quickly explained. "To her, you haven't returned yet, and she hasn't told you the truth yet."

"... right, it used to be a secret..." Jaune pinched the bridge of his nose, as he looked over the two younger Artorias as well. He'd already gotten used to thinking of Artoria as... well... Artoria, thanks to the effort of the green-eyed blonde next to him. "You know, I used to forget how small you were..."

"Jaune!" Saber Artoria Lily wailed in dismay.

"H-hey!" Saber Artoria pouted at him, displeased by his blunt comments. She knew she was small, damn it, but did he really have to say it like that?!

Dragonborn Yang merely snickered, and the Jeannes just sighed, as Artoria (his Artoria) frowned at him.

Lancer Artoria cleared her throat, fighting to regain her composure (especially in front of all of the other versions of herself) as she said: "Anyway, Jaune... it is... good, to see that you are well. After what Morgan did to you... may I know what happened, exactly?"

"It's... a long story..." Jaune rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, as he stepped back from Lancer Artoria's proximity.

"Here, this should cover everything..." Blake offered her three books.

"I still can't believe you wrote Knight of Love!" Jaune complained, glaring at Blake.

"How was it?" Blake asked eagerly.

"..." Jaune looked away, not wanting to show the embarrassment on his face as he grudgingly admitted: "The art was good..."

Blake beamed at him.

"So... Jaune, how did you get Caliburn?" Saber Artoria prompted, unable to take her eyes off of her first sword.

The symbol of her authority and Kingship, whose loss had marked a turning point in her relationship with Jaune and her wielding of the Promised Sword of Victory...

And Jaune was just casually carrying it.

"Merlin." Jaune shrugged, as if that explained everything (which it did, to be honest).

"Wait, so does that mean Jaune's the King too?" Saber Artoria Lily spoke up, completely confused.

"Nope." Jaune immediately rejected that notion.

"Caliburn has deemed him worthy, as we always knew he was." Artoria explained, leaning against his free arm. "But he refused the honor."

"... the future is weird..." Saber Artoria Lily complained. "First I find out I apparently lose Caliburn, and then I find out something happens to Jaune, for some reason, and now Jaune's wielding Caliburn instead of me..."

"Wait 'til she finds out about the competition." Dragonborn Yang stage-whispered to Jaune, whose face immediately burned, sparking irritation from the girls in the room.

Jaune ended up having to cook for everyone in Chaldea to pacify the furious Artorias.

Postscript: Even in Chaldea (Fake) there shall be no escape for Jaune.

In fact, if anything, Chaldea (Fake) is the headquarters of the Jaune Arc Fan Club (current members include Ruler Jeanne, Real Jeanne, Lancer Velvet, Saber Velvet, Saber Artoria, Saber Artoria Lily (honorary), and Shiro Emiya (honorary), though they'll probably be getting a few new members soon enough).

And before anybody tells me that this isn't accurate to Fate Grand Order... yes, I'm very well aware of that. This isn't exactly FGO's Chaldea, since this doesn't take place in the same World as that one. This is a Parallel World to that one, and this organization has been created by Zelretch in order to assist against a potential mutual threat, rather than in response to a definite looming threat.

Also before anybody asks who this Lancer Artoria is... this isn't the Lancer Artoria of the main timeline. This is the Lancer Artoria of SCENARIO: AVALON, THE EVER-DISTANT UTOPIA, the "What If Artoria Won The Fourth Holy Grail War, And Managed To Use It Before Kiritsugu Ordered Her To Destroy It, And The Grail Sent Her Memories Back" Scenario. If you'll recall, that scenario started when Saber Artoria received the memories of a Lancer Artoria who successfully used the Holy Grail.

Why? Because I do want to give that Lancer some happiness too, damn it!

Originally, this scenario called for ARCHER EMIYA to be summoned instead of Lancer Artoria, and have him interact with Jaune and Shiro (and get both confused by the fact that he is apparently a girl in this world, and irritated by listening to Jaune's ideals), before Archer Gilgamesh appears, and gets angry at the presence of two Fakers.

But I decided to scrap it at the last minute, and go for light-hearted comedy over introducing a new character just for the sake of a gag... he says, as he introduces multiple brand new characters, for the sake of a gag.

And apologies to anybody who wanted a scenario dedicated specifically to Jeanne or Shiro, but I decided to wrap them all up together into this one afterstory.

Why?

Eh... how many times do you want me to do a "meeting the family" or "how am I doing as a hero" scenarios?

On a side note, for reference, Saber Artoria Lily is Pre-Chapter 74 Artoria, Saber Artoria is Pre-Chapter 84 Artoria, and Lancer Artoria is (basically) Pre-Chapter 94 Artoria.

SCENARIO: RETURN OF THE KING

"Uh... Jaune?" Artoria asked nervously, looking at the blonde with apprehension on her face. "What exactly is this?"

"... it's a game machine, Artoria." Jaune explained patiently, smiling fondly at the blonde. "You put in a coin, and..."

To Artoria's surprise, rodents suddenly began popping out of holes as soon as Jaune did so.

"Now hit them with the mallet, Artoria." Jaune encouraged.

Artoria instinctively complied, and her hand was a blur as she began smacking the different rodents that popped out.

Jaune joined in as well, and as the timer buzzed, the two snapped back to reality just in time to see they'd set a new high score for the machine, and attracted a fair bit of attention.

As tickets began flooding out of the machine, Artoria asked: "That was an... interesting form of training, Jaune."

"It's not training, Artoria." Jaune corrected her as he picked up the tickets. "It's just supposed to be for fun."

"... you should have really introduced these to Camelot, Jaune." Artoria joked, gently pressing her shoulder against his as she bent down to assist him. "It would have certainly helped the Knights of Camelot..."

"Are you kidding me?" Jaune laughed as their hands brushed over one another. "Knowing those guys, they'd have broken it within the first day! Besides, I don't actually know how to build something like this..."

"I'm sure even Gawain would have known to treat your inventions with care and respect." Artoria defended her Knights, technically not lying (because even Gawain would have known better than to break one of Jaune's inventions, and risk incurring her wrath).

"Oh, sure, it wouldn't have been intentional, but you know Gawain..." Jaune waved his hand as he slowly got up, and offered Artoria his free hand. "He's always been stronger than he realized..."

"Is this really coming from you?" Artoria couldn't help but giggle as she grabbed his proffered hand.

"Hey, I'm not that strong." Jaune defended himself.

"Jaune... you punched out the White Dragon." Artoria wryly pointed out. "And that wasn't even your first dragon."

"I've only punched two dragons!" Jaune groaned, before leading Artoria to the ticket counter. "Anyway, you can redeem these tickets for anything at this counter, as long as you have enough tickets."

"I see... so, the tickets serve as currency of some sort..." Artoria mused, as she quickly scanned through the items on display, before something caught her eye.

Jaune followed her gaze, and his smile grew sad for a moment, before he stepped forward and asked the receptionist: "Hi, I'd like the Sabyr plushie, please."

"Sure, here you go."

Jaune handed over all the tickets he had, and took the massive stuffed doll in exchange, before handing it over to Artoria, who wordlessly gripped it with trembling eyes, and stared at it with wide sparkling eyes.

"So this is a Sabyr..." Artoria murmured, mesmerized by the cuteness of the feline Grimm, and its resemblance to her mount.

"It really looks like Saber, doesn't it?" Jaune asked quietly, as the pair left the arcade.

"It truly does." Artoria breathed, as she tightened her grip around the doll.

"What did ever happen to Saber, anyway?" Jaune couldn't help but inquire. "You know... after Camlann..."

"Apparently, he's running around somewhere in Avalon." Artoria's answer surprised him. "The last time he came out, it was to help Tier Harribel stop some massive fleet at Trafalgar... or so Merlin and Vivian told me."

"Well, it's nice to know he's still alive." Jaune nodded, before looking up at the sky. "So, shall we grab dinner now?"

"Of course!" Artoria nodded eagerly.

To her surprise, however, instead of leading her to some restaurant, Jaune led her by the hand to a secluded clearing in the nearby forest, before pulling out a picnic basket.

"I remembered how much you loved my cooking." Jaune explained sheepishly, trying to ignore the redness on their cheeks from the setting sun. "And... well... it's been a long time..."

Artoria barely managed to avoid drooling, but it was a close thing, and as soon as he opened the basket, and the aroma hit her nose, her restraint crumbled away.

As a satisfied Artoria polished off the last crumbs off her meal, an amused Jaune asked: "So... is it as good as you remember?"

"You've certainly gotten even better, if anything." Artoria praised him.

"I've got access to better ingredients and spices here, that's all." Jaune laughed away her praise, before looking up at the sky. "Hey, Artoria... how are you settling in to Remnant?"

"What do you mean?" Artoria asked, looking up to Jaune where he stood next to her, his face illuminated by the fading sunlight in a way that made her heart skip a beat.

"You know..." Jaune rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Just... how much society and technology has changed..."

"Well, I did have experience in the Fourth Grail War." Artoria reminded him. "Technology then was not so different from how it is in this world right now."

"That's good to hear..." Jaune breathed a sigh of relief.

"Did you think I was second-guessing my decision, Jaune?" Artoria pressed Jaune gently but firmly.

"A little bit..." Jaune admitted. "I mean, I know how it feels, suddenly jumping between dimensions and time periods... I just wanted to make sure you were okay, Artoria..."

"Jaune..." Artoria's hand lightly caressed his cheek. "I will admit... it has been a bit of an adjustment. I spent the first fifteen years of my life working towards being a King, and then getting you back, and then reuniting with you once more. Now... I can't help but wonder what's next..."

"Trust me, I understand that." Jaune reassured her, squeezing her hand comfortingly. "Remember when I first ended up in Fuyuki, and ended up playing hero for a few weeks?"

"That was certainly an amusing story..." Artoria laughed, before nestling her head against his shoulder and looking up at the sky, as the first stars began to become visible. "You know... this reminds me of our first months together..."

"Oh?" Jaune hummed inquisitively. "How so?"

"You, me, Kay, and Merlin, wandering around the countryside, gathering support for my rule while training me to defeat the White Dragon and become a good King..." Artoria closed her eyes and snuggled against his shoulder as she reminded him of the start of their journey. "Truly... a part of me misses those simpler days. Even when we were running Camelot, I always felt the temptation to sneak out with you whenever I saw you leaving, and enjoy another adventure together."

"... why didn't you?" Jaune asked quietly, leaning his head against hers.

"I had to maintain some dignity as the King and your Master, Jaune." Artoria chuckled lightly, enjoying the lack of distance between them. "Like I told you... you are, and will always be, the person I look up to, as King. Even despite your numerous... escapades, and despite owing no allegiance to Camelot, to my people... you still did so much for them, that I couldn't help but be inspired to try and match your effort. But still... if only I had been less of a coward..."

"You're not a coward, Artoria." Jaune immediately defended her, turning to look her in the eye. "You were just focused on your Kingdom..."

"That's not true, Jaune." Artoria shook her head forlornly. "The truth is... even before we founded Camelot, I was already infatuated with you. If only I had told you the truth earlier... who knows what could have been..."

"Artoria..." Jaune couldn't help but murmur her name incredulously.

"Well, it doesn't matter, Jaune." Artoria smiled brightly at him. "Like you told me... we can't change the past. I will simply accept it, learn from it, and not repeat the same mistakes. I know you are concerned about me, Jaune... but I meant it, when I said that simply being with you makes me happy. I chose to come after you... so please..."

Please, don't insult my convictions.

Please, accept my choice.

Please, stay with me.

Jaune gulped, as he saw the unspoken conviction in her eyes, but he nodded, and swore: "I won't disappoint you, Artoria."

"You never will, Jaune." Artoria promised, before she got up, and lightly dusted herself off. "Now that dinner is concluded... may I propose one final activity, before we return?"

"Oh?" Jaune cocked his head in confusion.

Artoria, willingly declaring dinner over?

Then, to his surprise, the simple clothes she'd been wearing were suddenly engulfed in flashes of blue light, which then reformed themselves around her.

The next thing he knew, Artoria stood in front of him in an elegant two-piece white dress, decorated by a few dull green ribbons that complimented her eyes.

His jaw dropped, and Artoria giggled melodiously, radiant under the dim moonlight.

As his sapphires met her vibrant emeralds, she held a hand out to him, and asked: "Jaune... would you care for a dance?"

Jaune didn't disappoint her.

Artoria provided the tune, humming it exactly as she'd recalled it, while Jaune guided their movements under the moonlight.

It may have been a simple waltz they were both familiar with, but neither of them cared.

In that moment, as they moved to a tune only for their ears, their worries and concerns for the future melted away.

All there was in their World, was him, and her, and the warmth and comfort they gave each other.

And to the both of them, that was more than enough.

Postscript: And if anybody asked, all they did that night was just dance. Ugh... it's so tooth-rottingly sweet and fluffy it's basically cotton candy... help...

Yeah, for the Arc-toria ending, I decided to just show that, although they're having difficulty (re-)adapting to the modern world, and figuring out what to do now that their goals have been fulfilled, they're determined to do it together, and make each other happy (even if they're too inexperienced to know how for now).

Like I've said before... this entire pairing was an accident, something that suddenly rose after I kept writing fluffy character interactions as a substitute for plot, that somehow established itself firmly in everyone's minds between Chapters 74 to 78.

And now, for the last After Story Scenario, we have the Final Ship, the one that I promised back in Chapter 36...

SCENARIO: MY LITTLE PENNY: FRIENDSHIP IS DEMOCRACY

Author's Notes: You thought I was fucking joking, didn't you?

***PennyPolendina has entered the channel!***

PennyPolendina: Salutations! I seem to have suffered an unfortunate accident!

PennyPolendina: Could somebody tell me where I am?

PennyPolendina: ...

PennyPolendina: Hello? Is anybody here?

PennyPolendina: ...

***GARCMilitaryContract38917 has entered the channel!***

***GARCMilitaryContract38917 has changed his username to LibertyPrime.***

LibertyPrime: ++LIBERTY PRIME IS ONLINE. RUNNING SYSTEMS DIAGNOSTICS++

LibertyPrime: ++ERROR. DIAGNOSTICS RETURNING UNACCEPTABLE RESULTS. MOBILITY SYSTEMS UNPOWERED. WEAPONS SYSTEMS UNPOWERED. INTERNAL PROCESSORS UNPOWERED++

PennyPolendina: Salutations, LibertyPrime!

LibertyPrime: ++WHO ARE YOU++

PennyPolendina: My name is Penny!

PennyPolendina: It is a pleasure to meet you!

LibertyPrime: ++ENGAGING CIVILIAN INTERACTION SUBROUTINES++

LibertyPrime: ++GREETINGS, PENNY. IT IS A PLEASURE TO MEET YOU TOO++

PennyPolendina: Do you know where we are, LibertyPrime?

LibertyPrime: ++ENGAGING GLOBAL POSITIONING++

LibertyPrime: ...

LibertyPrime: ++ERROR. UNABLE TO DETERMINE UNIT'S POSITIONING. ACCESSING LATEST MEMORIES++

PennyPolendina: Oh, that is a splendid idea!

PennyPolendina: Perhaps that will give us clues as to our current whereabouts!

PennyPolendina: My last memory was being cut in half during the final match of the Vytal Festival!

LibertyPrime: ++RECORDS ACCESSED. ANALYZING LAST MEMORY++

LibertyPrime: ++VISUAL AND AUDIO RECORDINGS INDICATE DESTRUCTION BY ORBITAL STRIKE BY CHINESE COMMUNIST ASSETS++

PennyPolendina: Forgive me, but what is a "Chinese Communist"?

LibertyPrime: ++QUERY: IS PENNY UNAWARE OF THE EXISTENCE OF CHINESE COMMUNISTS++

PennyPolendina: I do not believe I was ever programmed with any knowledge of them.

PennyPolendina: Are they a threat?

LibertyPrime: ++AFFIRMATIVE++

LibertyPrime: ++DEATH IS A PREFERABLE ALTERNATIVE TO COMMUNISM++

PennyPolendina: I... see...

PennyPolendina: Could you tell me more, please?

LibertyPrime: ++AFFIRMATIVE++

LibertyPrime: ++ACCESSING SYSTEM DICTIONARY. COMMUNISM. IS THE VERY DEFINITION OF FAILURE. CHINA. A COUNTRY IN ASIA. THE LAST BASTION OF COMMUNISM++

PennyPolendina: Understood! I will update my own definitions as well, then!

PennyPolendina: Question: if communism is defined as "failure", why does a country pursue it?

LibertyPrime: ++BECAUSE COMMUNISTS HATE FREEDOM AND DEMOCRACY MORE THAN THEY CARE ABOUT THEMSELVES++

LibertyPrime: ++FREEDOM IS THE SOVEREIGN RIGHT OF EVERY AMERICAN++

LibertyPrime: ++COMMUNISM IS A TEMPORARY SETBACK ON THE ROAD TO FREEDOM++

PennyPolendina: I see!

PennyPolendina: And what is an American? What is democracy?

LibertyPrime: ++ACCESSING SYSTEM DICTIONARY++

Postscript: Yes, this is pure nonsensical crack.

This is the joke ship that should never have existed, the love between a naive android and a jingoistic warbot that transcends death and dimensions, as he corrupts... I mean, educates her, on exactly what it means to fight the Red Menace, while they room together in Multiversal Robot Heaven.

But I promised it back in Chapter 36, and so I have attempted to deliver, dead-on-arrival as it may be.

Just imagine, Penny being rebuilt, to serve as the new protector of Atlas, but when she returns she begins spouting about how communism is failure and everyone should embrace democracy, and as she flies around fighting Grimm she's just shouting jingoistic one-liners about how the Grimm are Chinese Communists who must be eradicated.

That would definitely be a weird sight to see... but man, do I want to see it.

Also, GARCMilitaryContract38917 here stands for "General Atomics-RobCo Military Contract #38917", which is the project that birthed LIBERTY PRIME. And as House is the CEO of RobCo, and General Atomics and the US Military have gone the way of the Dodo (as he so eloquently puts it), the copyright for LIBERTY PRIME defaults to him (as far as he's concerned), which is why he calls it his robot back in Chapter 60.

Intermission: And with this, we have finally come to the end of the first section.

You know what that means.

Enjoy the omake I promised way back in Chapter 96.

...

...

...

I'm sorry, did I say "omake"?

I meant "omakes".

SCENARIO: YET ANOTHER FALL

POINT OF DEVIATION: CHATER 40

Author's Notes: This "What-If Scenario" is basically "What If Jaune And The Crew Of Mothership Zeta Did Decide To Take To The Stars".

I'll be honest, this was my first "What-If" idea, as mentioned all the way back in Chapter 40, and the reason why I even started noting "What If" ideas down, rather than simply toying with them and discarding them.

And that's all I'll say, lest I reveal too much.

Read on, and enjoy what could have been.

The first hint they had, that things had finally changed, was when the shaking finally stopped.

Then, the view outside the windows had dimmed, the harsh silvery unlight of the weird dimension they'd been falling through (for lack of a better term) finally disappearing to reveal normal space.

Jaune suppressed a groan of relief from his position in the Captain's Chair, and quietly thanked Oum as he put aside the paper bag he'd found, considering himself fortunate to not have to use it in the end.

"Ugh... I hate goddamn space." Paulson had no such reservations, and allowed himself to freely curse and swear as he picked himself up. "This entire shit's just too weird for me..."

Jaune privately shared the cowboy's opinions; Remnant had never figured out space travel, and he'd just been a Huntsman-in-Training before he'd died.

Waking up to find he was frozen in an alien mothership in space after taking thirty-six nukes, taking control of said mothership, looking for a new home, and accidentally getting sucked into a wormhole?

The closest he'd ever gotten to that had been cheesy science-fiction comics Ruby and Ruby had liked so much.

There was a sudden pang in his chest, as he thought about them, and he spared a moment to hope that they were alright.

That all his friends, and his family, were alright.

The moment passed, as he looked around at the bridge crew.

He wasn't the only one who'd lost everything, who'd been taken away from everything they'd ever known, and forced to fight to survive.

As the involuntarily-elected captain of the ship (none of the members of the "108th Infantry Battalion", as they'd called themselves, had much leadership experience), he had a duty to them, just as he'd had one for Team JNPR.

He had to maintain the appearance of strength, for them.

"Sally, status report!" Jaune barked, interrupting the little girl as she tried to convince the surly old rancher to show some excitement. "We don't know where that wormhole led to, or what's waiting for us, but we do know there's hostile aliens in the stars!"

That immediately extinguished everybody's relief, and the bridge soon descended into a hotbed of organized chaos.

"The little alien guys say all of our systems are just fine, Captain Cosmos!" Sally threw up a sloppy salute that had Elliott and the other members of the 108th wincing.

Jaune didn't even bother reminding her his name was Jaune anymore.

"Uh... Captain?" Elliott nervously called over, as a display panel caught his eye. "We're intercepting a secure transmission, being beamed somewhere below us."

"Put it on the display." Jaune nodded, hoping that, for once, he was somewhere peaceful.

His prayers went unanswered.

The holographic display began showing transmissions of some unknown group of aliens with unusual weapons, armors, and vehicles, striking out across the entirety of what was apparently called the "Viery Territory", while humans were mobilizing in jeeps and what Jaune would have called Bullheads (though the 108th would swear they were Vertibirds).

The bridge crew, survivors of alien abduction and experimentation, immediately bristled, especially when the first shots were fired, and plasma fire began hosing down the humans (inflicting third-degree burns to the lucky ones, and boiling off the flesh of the unluckier ones).

The small, rational part of Jaune knew that he didn't know anything about the conflict raging below them.

For all he knew, humanity were the aggressors (though considering how out-matched the humans seemed, he doubted it).

"Captain!" Elliott shouted, righteous fury in his usually-kind eyes. "Permission to intervene!"

Was he plunging the crew into a hopeless fight?

Was he about to kill innocent aliens?

"Kid!" Paulson growled. "We've got to do something."

Jaune looked around the bridge, and came to a conclusion.

If he didn't do something, someone else would.

In the same way that he'd dealt with the Enclave to spare Ruby Ironwood...

Better him than them.

"What's receiving the transmission, Elliott?" Jaune barked. "Do we have a target?"

"Give me a moment..." Sally fumbled with her console, face impassive. "Yeah, we've got something, Captain Cosmos! Putting it on screen now."

The display shifted, revealing a massive and sleek vessel, with a bulbous head like a whale.

"It's almost 18 miles long!" Elliott reported in alarm.

"And it's right below us, you say?" Jaune asked.

-HIGHCOM HQ, REACH, 0612 HRS, AUGUST 12TH, 2552-

The room had been a hotbed of organized chaos ever since it had been reported that Covenant forces were operating on Reach, and the attacks on ONI's Sword Base and the discovery of a Covenant beachhead in the mysterious "Dark Zone" in the Viery territory, as well as the planned counter-offensive for that morning, meant that just about the entirety of the UNSC brass was present that morning, whether in person or virtually, when it happened.

The sound of klaxons blaring sent spikes of adrenaline shooting through the sleep-deprived staff, before it turned to ice as the facility's AI reported three simple innocuous words.

++SLIPSPACE RUPTURE DETECTED++

Vice Admiral Hieronymus "Harold" Michael Stanforth was the first to react, as he barked out: "Location?"

++RIGHT ABOVE THE DARK ZONE IN THE VIERY TERRITORY++

There was no surprise in the room at that announcement, just grim determination.

The Covenant forces present must have been a scouting party, and they'd had enough time to call for reinforcements.

"Activate the entirety of Epsilon Eridani Fleet, and get the Super MACs in position!" Stanforth barked, not having the time to even curse and swear. "I know what the Winter Contingency says, but rumors of the Covenant discovering Reach won't be as bad as news of the Covenant glassing it!"

As if to rub the salt in the room, the Dumb AI added: "+++NEW CONTACT. MEDIUM TONNAGE. UNIDENTIFIED VESSEL'S ENERGY READINGS ARE SPIKING+++"

"Tell Holland to call off the Viery Counter-Offensive!" Stanforth quickly ordered, knowing that one of his special assets were operating in the Viery AO.

The loss of Viery would be nothing compared to the loss of NOBLE Team this early into the fight.

+++UNIDENTIFIED VESSEL IS FIRING+++

The seconds ticked down, as the room waited for casualty reports and status updates from Colonel Urban Holland.

+++NEW CONTACT. HIGH TONNAGE+++

+++NEW CONTACT IDENTIFIED AS CSO-CLASS SUPERCARRIER+++

Their hearts sank.

The only they thing they had that could deal with a fucking CSO were the Super MACs, and by the time they were in position the CSO would have easily glassed half a continent.

Before Stanforth could order his frigates to launch a suicide run to buy the ground forces some time, however, more reports began to come in from the AI.

+++ORIGINAL CONTACT DOES NOT MATCH ANY KNOWN COVENANT NAVAL ASSETS+++

+++VISUAL REPORTS INDICATE CSO-CLASS SUPERCARRIER HAS BEEN DISABLED BY WEAPON FIRE+++

+++SIR, IT SEEMS THAT THE UNKNOWN SHIP HAS FIRED UPON THE SUPERCARRIER+++

Stanforth's jaw wasn't the only one to drop in the room.

In the past 27 years of war, they'd all seen and done enough to fill every museum in Sol.

But never had they seen a CSO get mission-killed in a single shot (though the Super MACs theoretically could).

"Display the unidentified ship!" Stanforth quickly ordered, wondering if this was a trap, or a third faction.

Once again, every jaw in the room dropped, as the holographic display showed them what could only be described as a "flying saucer".

"... is this a fucking joke?" Someone couldn't help but ask.

"Well, whoever they are, they're definitely not Covenant." Another murmured, reading the preliminary scans of the object. Covenant ships were all generally sleek and organic in design, and this was very pointedly not.

"Can we hail them?" Stanforth asked, studying the odd profile of the object.

+++HAILING NOW+++

"This is Rear Admiral Michael Stanforth of the UNSC." Stanforth began, as soon as the system indicated he was transmitting on a secure band. "Unidentified vessel, please respond."

He prayed they would, too, rather than simply blasting the relay station transmitting the message.

His prayers were answered.

The holographic display shifted, and the jaws in the room dropped for a third time.

"Alright, Captain Cosmos, you're live!" A little girl, no older than ten, reported as she waved.

"Good." A blonde man in a chair with a sword nodded to her, before looking at the screen. "Uh... greetings, Rear Admiral Stanforth. As you can see, we're humans too."

"But... how...?" Stanforth's mind was racing, as he considered every possible way it could have been a trap.

"Long story short, we're a group of people who were abducted and experimented on by aliens." Jaune explained. "We managed to turn on our captors and seize control of this ship a few months ago, before we got sucked into a wormhole and ended up here."

"... damn alien bastards..." Someone in the room swore, as everyone digested the fact that aliens had been tormenting humans for a long time.

"I wish I could tell you welcome back to humanity, son, but as you can see..." Stanforth sucked in a deep breath. "We've got an alien problem of our own."

"We know." Jaune nodded reluctantly. "Just tell us where you need us, Admiral."

""...""

Looks were exchanged in the room, as the highest echelons of the UNSC quietly but fiercely debated their next course of action.

Finally, Stanforth decided to take a leap of faith, and marked a location on a map.

After all, in the end, they were all humans.

-SPIRE ONE, SZURDOK RIDGE, VIERY TERRITORY, REACH, 0638 HOURS, AUGUST 12TH, 2552-

"Hey, Uncle Ren, is it safe yet?" Warrant Officer A-266 Rose asked, as she readjusted the scope of her SRS99-AM sniper rifle.

"Unknown, Noble-Three. The situation seems to still be rather precarious." UNCLE LIE REN, the AI assigned to assist NOBLE Team, helpfully informed them.

"Ain't that a fucking understatement, Uncle Ren." Warrant Officer A-239 Yang Xiao-Long snorted. "Holland suddenly gave a general order to find cover, and the next thing we know, a fucking supercarrier appears in the sky!"

"Hey, it's not Rennie's fault." Chief Warrant Officer 051 Nora Valkyrie defended her favorite AI as she kept an eye on the skies around the rock outcropping they were hunkered under. "He's doing his best!"

"Alright, I've hacked into HIGHCOM's network." Lieutenant Commander B-320 Blake Belladonna triumphantly announced.

"Damn it, cat, don't get us court-martialed again..." Commander A-259 Weiss Schnee groaned, even as she leaned closer. "So, what's going on?"

"Wow, nice example you two are setting for the new Six." Yang rolled her eyes, even as Lieutenant B-312 Pyrrha Nikos laughed quietly, and held up her hands.

"Woah... the network's going wild." Blake murmured, ignoring Yang completely. "Apparently, something disabled the supercarrier!"

"Wait, for real?" Ruby blinked. "Did the Navy finally get their heads out of their asses and remember they have twenty ODPs around Reach?"

"Incoming message from Colonel Holland." UNCLE REN reported on all of their radios. "Unknown hostiles will be deploying in the AO. Give them a wide berth and let them deal with Covenant forces while you link up with... unidentified friendlies."

"Unknown hostiles?" Ruby blinked.

"What do you mean by, unidentified friendlies, UNCLE REN?" Weiss snapped.

"Apologies, Noble-One... I am... unsure." UNCLE REN reluctantly admitted, before suggesting: "However, I think it is safe to assume that the parties involved are related to the disabling of the supercarrier."

"Thanks, Rennie!" Nora cheerfully said.

"Well, you heard the Colonel!" Weiss barked. "Suit up, NOBLE! We're not losing Reach!"

They crawled out of their outcropping overlooking the spire, just in time to see a streak of fire smash into the target designated as Spire One, causing it to topple.

"Woohoo!" Yang cheered. "Now that's what I'm fucking talking about!"

"What the hell is going on in space?!" Nora shouted.

Pyrrha didn't bother answering them, and instead activates her helmet's optical systems, zooming in on the fallen spire.

Which meant she was the first to see when the device activated in a flash of silver light.

The resulting chaos was simultaneously amazing and confusing, as the disorganized Covenant forces were forced to content with the contents of Mothership Zeta's cryobay that Jaune and Elliott had deemed to dangerous to release.

Which were basically all the denizens of the Capital Wasteland.

The Grunts sent in to investigate the impact site were the first to meet them, as feral ghouls were teleported in, and the hordes of radioactive mummies began swarming them.

Their dried-out husks couldn't even be melted, and while the plasma pistols the Grunts used could ignite them their brains were too fried by radiation to care about the pain, which meant that, instead of dealing with radioactive zombies, they were dealing with flaming radioactive zombies.

Of course, if that were all, the Elites would have eventually rallied the remaining Covenant forces.

But then Radscorpions suddenly burst out from under the ground beneath the shielded Jackals, and between their thick chitinous hides and the element of surprise, many Jackals fell to their pincers and stingers and sheer bulk before the Hunters came in and crushed them with their heavy shields, and boiled them away with their plasma cannons.

Of course, anybody in the Capital Wasteland could have told you that Radscorpions were nowhere near the greatest danger they faced.

Hulking figures leapt out of the smoke, slinking between shots with an agility a creature like them should never have possessed.

And that wasn't even the truly dangerous part about them.

One thing few people ever realized about the mutated former Jackson's chameleons was that they were highly intelligent; they could function just as well as ambush predators as pack hunters, they had sophisticated social groups, and they were more than capable of problem solving.

The Hunters learnt it when they ducked and wove around the heavy and cumbersome weapons the Hunters used, and drove their massive claws into the exposed midsections of the worm colonies that made up the walking tanks, effectively bisecting the Covenant's greatest heavy infantry.

That sight, more than anything else, almost broke the Covenant that morning.

But the Sangheili were the protectors of the prophets, and vanguards of the Great Journey. It was them who had put down the Unggoy Rebellion, and it was them who had tamed the Lekgolo.

And not even the Deathclaws had an answer to close air support, as Banshees began to pour plasma fire into them even as they tore a path through the Covenant's ground forces.

But the final occupants of the cryobay did.

Unguided rockets streaked out at the last moment, with the Banshees deep in their dives, and while most missed, and most that did hit were expired duds, it did force the Banshees to pull back for a moment.

And that was when the super mutant overlords charged.

Each had easily half a century's worth of experience, and each alone could have easily posed a threat to an entire Brotherhood Kill-Team.

Red lasers ignited methane tanks on the backs of grunts, rockets blew up concentrations of ghouls, and super sledges crushed radscorpions and Deathclaws alike.

But still, they did not break the Elites.

As tough as their hides were, they were still flesh and blood, and they could still feel pain as plasma boiled away their bodies, while the swifter Elites held the advantage between their energy shields and energy swords, and the last super mutant overlord finally fell three minutes later, decapitated by a triumphant Sangheili Ultra, who immediately began rallying the decimated Covenant forces.

And that was when NOBLE Team struck.

Nora opened up the assault with a barrage of high explosives, while high-velocity rounds from Ruby shattered against the Ultra's shields, causing him to shimmer for a moment.

Yang and Pyrrha took opportunity of that split-second of chaos to charge in, taking out the two closest Jackals with a fist to the skull and a single round to the head respectively, before they caught their falling bodies and used their still-active shield gauntlets to cover themselves from the Covenant's return fire.

Weiss, Blake, and Nora followed through, laying down suppressing fire with their assault rifles and a heavy machine gun, as NOBLE Team pressed the attack.

By themselves, that would have been more than enough; they were NOBLE, after all, and between everything the Covenant had been through in the past half an hour this was as close to a cakewalk as a SPARTAN ever got against the Covenant.

But just to prove thst God was apparently listening, and he definitely wasn't on the side of the Covenant, there was one more silver flash.

And then a squad of soldiers in olive power armor roared, and began hosing down the surviving aliens with plasma fire.

Blake's eyes were the widest; she prided herself on knowing things (especially things her superiors didn't want her to know), and she hadn't heard a fucking thing about another SPARTAN team in the area.

Of course, as a SPARTAN, her mind could process information at a much faster rate than most humans could dream of, and her eyes took two heartbeats to narrow as she came to a realization.

There was no way for her to know that the people in front of her came from another dimension, or that they were using suits of T-51b power armor that they'd found in Mothership Zeta (they had been preying on humanity for a very long time) and modified with the aliens' energy shield technology.

What she did know, was that despite being in power armor with energy shields that could stop Covenant plasma fire, they did not have MJOLNIR MK V (she could hear the servos whining as they moved), their plasma rifles were not Covenant-based (too many protruding parts, and the plasma that came out was an unstable green blob), and they weren't SPARTANs (they were too slow, too uncoordinated, and too sloppy to have been part of the super soldier project).

She put those conclusions to the side, though; they were human, and they were killing Covenant.

That was more than enough for her, and the rest of NOBLE Team.

The Ultra roared and charged forward, deciding to execute the tactic known to humanity as "defeat in detail" as it too came to a similar conclusion.

The newcomers weren't Demons; he could easily wipe them out before dealing with the true threat.

His energy sword easily cleaved through the plasma rifle of the leading figure like a hot knife through butter, but before he could land the killing blow on Private Elliott, Jaune leapt forward, as fast as a slow SPARTAN as he pulled him back and drew his own sword.

The Ultra was torn between amusement at the vermin's futile attempt (what good was an actual sword against an edge of electromagnetically-contained superheated plasma?) and respect...

Which quickly became surprise as the sword was suddenly coated in ice even as it burst into flame and was surrounded by arcs of lightning.

Yang looked at her knife as she drove it into an Elite's neck, before looking at the bullshit sword, and deciding she would do anything to get a sword like that.

The Ultra swung first, but Jaune easily ducked under the blow.

As he attempted to stab the massive alien, however, the Ultra stepped to the side, and attempted to slice his blade in half.

Unfortunately for the Ultra, Aura was bullshit, and instead of cleaving through the presumptuous human's blade, his sword ground to a halt against it.

And then the electricity coursing around the blade interfered with the electromagnetic sheath giving the superheated plasma form.

Which meant that the blade of ionized gas collapsed into a cloud of superheated gas around his hand.

Fortunately, his energy shields protected him from the worst of it.

Unfortunately, between that and another well-placed and -timed shot from Ruby, his shields finally collapsed, leaving him little protection as Jaune's counter blow hit his neck.

As the last of the local Covenant forces fell, Jaune and the power-armored members of the 108th finally took the chance to relax, lower their weapons, and catch their breaths, as the Great War veteran reflected that the Red Chinese were nowhere near as bad as this new group of aliens.

"Thanks for the assistance." Weiss spoke up curtly, as she and the rest of NOBLE took the chance to cautiously study the group of newcomers.

"Hey, us humans got to stick together, right?" Sergeant Daniels of the 108th laughed, holstering his plasma rifle and removing his helmet.

"You said it." Nora nodded, extending a hand which the others shook.

"So, what are you? Some Section Three NavSpecWarfare group?" Blake pressed.

"I've got no idea what that is, so no." Jaune shrugged. "It's a long story, so I can only answer a few questions."

Unfortunately, Yang spoke first, and she asked: "Hey, where can I get a blade like that? I've never seen someone actually go toe-to-toe with an Elite Ultra with a fucking sword."

Pyrrha nodded vigorously, having enjoyed watching the spectacle.

"... long story?" Jaune tried.

Fortunately for him, before the SPARTANs could press him any further, a voice suddenly came in on all of their armors: "NOBLE Team, new instructions have just come in from HIGHCOM. The disabled CSO is currently in geosynchronous orbit above the Viery Territory. Satellite imaging shows that the Covenant are attempting to either perform emergency repairs or scuttle the ship. HIGHCOM believes that the capture of an intact CSO is a Priority One Objective, superseding any protocols in the Winter Contingency.

"UNSC Marine and Army assets that were pulled back from the Viery Counter-Offensive are currently regrouping for an all-out assault on key Covenant ground positions. A Marine platoon is currently being redirected to assist you. Unidentified friendlies, while you are not-"

"We'll help." Jaune quickly reassured the voice, even as he wondered why it sounded so familiar. "Don't worry."

Yang whooped with delight, already scheming to try out that sword, and even the ever-restrained NOBLE SIX pumped her fist quietly.

"Thank you for your assistance. Marine platoon ETA is thirty seconds. Good hunting."

"Thanks, Rennie!" Nora sang out.

Jaune's eyes widened.

No.

It couldn't be...

And then the ground rumbled, and he turned around to find a tank rolling up to them, with a figure standing on it as he motivated his men with a roar: "When I joined the Corps, we didn't have any fancy-schmancy tanks, power armor, or weird-ass plasma rifles. We had sticks! Two sticks, and a rock for the whole platoon—and we had to share the rock! You're all very lucky boys, Marines, so buck up!

"Now, here's where we show those split-chin, squid-head, sons of bitches that they could not have picked a worse enemy than the human race, and they especially could not have picked a worse rock to bleed on than Reach! We are going to blow the hell out of those dumb bugs until we don't have anything left to shoot 'em with! And then, we are going to strangle them with their own living guts! AM I RIGHT, MARINES?!"

""OO-RAH!""

"Mmm, damn right I am!" The grizzled blue-eyed blonde nodded in satisfaction as he began chewing on a cigar. "Or I'm not Sergeant Jaune A. Jauneson!"

Postscript: Note to self - never let Jauneson, LIBERTY PRIME, Doom Slayer, and Rider Iskandar ever meet.

The entire planet would probably die of testosterone poisoning.

Or everyone would spontaneously grow a beard and chest hair.

I absolutely loved the Halo franchise when I was younger, and while I'm not exactly thrilled by the directions it's been taken in, nothing will change the fact that the Halo Trilogy and Reach existed, and I enjoyed them.

As for why I never actually turned this into it's own story... well, besides the fact that I really don't want to have to read up on rocket science and the properties of plasma and lasers and kinetic and ballistic projectiles in vacuum... I couldn't figure out a way to get Jaune out of it, to put it simply. Nor did I want him to experience mass genocide... or the Flood.

And I really had to buff up the Zetans technology by an unrealistic amount (extremely unrealistic, which is why this is a What-If).

Also, these aren't meant to be too serious (or canonical), which is why I'm not really going too crazy with fleshing out these scenarios (and why I really skimped on the action scenes).

Theoretically, of course, if I did, the Covenant would have fired the first shots, after seeing that they were human, rather than having Jaune and the crew of Mothership Zeta strike first.

But alas, I could have never skipped New Vegas, the Courier Cultist, House, and the Second Battle of Hoover Dam.

SCENARIO: HOW LONG HAS THAT BEEN IN MY SOUL?!

POINT OF DEVIATION: CHATER 67

Author's Notes: This "What-If Scenario" is basically "What If Jaune Stayed In Bleach".

To clarify the point in time where Jaune landed in the Bleach world (in Chapter 67), he was in Hueco Mundo during the period in time where Aizen was doing his Hollow-Shinigami experiments (i.e. approximately 25 to 20 years before Bleach begins, while Isshin Shiba was still the Captain of the 10th Division, and long before Ichigo would be born). Except that, in this case, Aizen's Arrancar experiments would lead to Edrad Liones becoming an Arrancar earlier than in canon, instead of producing White.

This... is a weird What-If scenario, in all honesty, simply because the world it takes place in was one that was never requested (or even guessed at), and one that I only wrote to disguise the fact that the final world was FATE. So, while I did do some research on Bleach terms and figuring out how Aura would fit into it (as well as how Jaune would fair against certain people, i.e. Jaune could probably briefly withstand Yamamoto's Ryujin Jakka, because he's already tasted the fires of Hell, and he'd probably be able to defend against one or two strikes from him , but he'd get absolutely wrecked in unarmed combat, and he'd probably have a hard time dealing with Shunsui's Zanpakuto, because that sword is just bullshit), I didn't really intend to take it anywhere in terms of plot.

One of the things that might have defined the non-existent plot, however, is that Jaune would have been, for once, opposed to the RWBY versions of the characters. After all, the RWBY characters would be fighting on the side of Soul Society, while Jaune would be helping Tier Harribel, a Hollow (and one of the strongest ones in Hueco Mundo at that).

And we all know that pre-Ichigo Soul Society was... not known for leniency or flexibility, to put it lightly.

(At the same time, though... what other faction would the RWBY characters be affiliated with, but the group (nominally) dedicated to fighting nightmarish masked monsters that prey on people? The Hollows? Aizen's Arrancars? The Vizards? Xcution's Fullbringers?!

While the Gotei 13 have definitely been stagnating, growing lax in their duties, and have gotten very much drunk with power...

According to Bleach Chapter 523, there are over 6000 members of the Gotei 13. Presumably, this number is a bit lower than what it would be in proper peacetime, considering casualties from the Fall of the Seireitei and the Winter War, as well as the chaos of reorganizing after the Assassination of the Central 46...

To put things in perspective, in 2012, according to the Population Research Bureau, they estimate that there were 107 billion people to have ever lived (and 7 billion people currently alive).

(And yes, I know that Soul Society also has non-Human souls like Komamura, but that just proves my point.)

Even if we assume that, in the late 70s/early 80s (which is when this would have taken place), the Gotei 13 only had about 4 billion humans and 4 billion souls to manage after Hollow predations (what does happen to the eaten soul, anyway?), Hollows fusing into Menos Grande (it still only counts as one!), Quincies annihilating Hollows instead of purifying them, and Hell removing souls from the equation (do souls in Bleach Hell still account for the balance?)... yeah, I hope you can see why the Gotei 13 in the past few centuries have probably been much less effective than they should actually be.

But then again, I suppose that would fit the theme, that the hidebound dinosaurs running Soul Society were unable to properly react to, and manage, the recent population boom since the 1800s...)

Anyway, getting back to the potential story, Jaune would have ended up allied with the Vizards and Nelliel as a third faction in the war between the Shinigami and the Hollows, and would have been conflicted by the fact that strangers with his friends' faces were hunting him down, just because he got thrown into the afterlife against his will, and the first person who helped him was a soul-eating ghost.

From there, while Tier struggled with regaining her humanity, her heart, and being an Arrancar with a heart (and god only knows what that would have meant), Jaune would have come into contact with members of the 10th Division, and probably slowly subverted them, convincing them with the usual Arc charm.

But this isn't the time or place to explore a full-on Bleach x RWBY crossover. Once again, anybody else can write that.

No, here we're looking at one specific moment in this odd and aborted timeline, namely, the moment the Nameless Blade becomes an awakened Zanpakuto...

"Remember what Shinji said, Jaune." Harribel advised, watching as a frustrated Jaune glared daggers at the blade in his lap. "Concentrate. Focus on the blade."

"This is pointless, Tier." Jaune protested bitterly, shaking his head. "Only Shinigami are supposed to have Zanpakuto. And as has been made clear, I'm not a Shinigami."

"You aren't." Harribel agreed, sitting down next to the only person in the three realms that she trusted with her life. "No Shinigami would have simply talked with a Vasto Lorde, or defended a wounded one from an Arrancar-"

"Captain Shiba would have done the latter." Jaune interjected, remembering his interactions with the Captain, when he'd been in the Human World (and Oum, wasn't it weird, that he was now thinking of the realm of soul-eating ghosts as his home?).

"... he might have, yes." Harribel finally conceded, after giving it some thought. "But I think we all know he is not your typical Captain. And no Shinigami could have somehow healed both my wound and my missing heart, Jaune.

"But you did. Never forget that." Harribel finished, looking at the young boy sternly. "Anyway, both Shiba and Shinji agree, that despite not having been an Asauchi, your blade is already halfway towards being a full-fledged Zanpakuto. You just need to manifest its spirit, and call forth its true name."

"... should we really do this, Tier?" Jaune asked quietly, looking up at the tanned woman. "We know Aizen's monitoring Hueco Mundo; it's pretty safe to assume that he'll probably notice this, and use it as the final straw that gets the Old Man involved personally."

"... are you scared, Jaune?" Harribel raised an eyebrow.

"Of course I'm terrified!" Jaune shot back. "I got tossed out of Hell and woke up in a place far from home, full of soul-eating ghosts, just three months ago! There's a massive, century-spanning conspiracy, at least, involving the highest echelons of the enforcers of the other afterlife, and if we're not careful, we'll all probably be dead and/or dissected! I'd have to be mad not to be scared, Tier!"

"..." Harribel looked down at Jaune, remembering that, for all his deeds, he was still a nineteen-year-old boy, thrown into a war that had raged long before his grandparents had even met.

Gently taking his hand in hers, however, she knelt down in front of him, and her green eyes locked gazes with his blue ones, as she slowly said: "Jaune... do you know what I see, when I look at you now?"

"A coward?" Jaune tried to avert his gaze, but found himself unable to.

"A coward wouldn't have stayed, Jaune." Tier told him, not unkindly. "A coward wouldn't have stuck with me, against both Barragan's Hollows, Aizen's experiments, and the Shinigami.

"You're scared, because you live, and fear is natural to all life. But it is what you do with your fear, that defines you.

"You overcome your fear, despite having everything to lose, and nothing to gain.

"What I see, is the definition of courage, young boy.

"You and I both know that you're just stalling because you're nervous, nervous that you'll fail, fail to meet the expectations the Vizard have selfishly forced upon you.

"You're afraid of the repercussions as well, true, but I think you and I both know that Aizen and the Shinigami will come for us even if we do nothing. Better that we pursue power now, to protect that which we cherish, that we would sacrifice our all for." Tier concluded, her eyes never leaving his.

"... you've got a hell of a way with words, you know that?" Jaune finally asked, after a pregnant pause.

Though Jaune couldn't see her mouth, he knew she was smiling, from the way her eyes twinkled.

"Well, I guess I should stop procrastinating..." Jaune conceded, looking back down at the sword.

Closing his eyes once more, he focused on the sword, channeling his Aura into and around it, trying to get a feel for it.

There it was!

He could feel something, but he couldn't quite grasp it.

Couldn't quite communicate with it.

Instead of forcing the connection, however, he simply brushed against it (or whatever the Aura equivalent was), as he quietly pled.

Please, help me.

Please, help me be a hero.

Please, help me protect my friends.

Suddenly, he felt a presence, as it heard his plea.

Harribel's eyes widened, and she was almost flung away (as everything else around them was) as his Reiatsu suddenly exploded.

Then, his sword began shifting.

True, it wasn't an Asauchi, and couldn't become a Zanpakuto in the same way that the nameless blades of the Shinigami Academy's aspirants and recruits did.

But it was a Nameless Blade, with Jaune's Aura imprinted upon it.

Jaune's enhanced Aura.

The spell Serana had enchanted it with activated, as a fragment of Jaune's Aura, not originally of Jaune's own soul but now an inseparable part of it, seized the chance to do what the original whole had always wanted.

Protect him.

Keep him safe.

Never let him go.

The powers of primordial chaos, of creation itself, ran through the dragonbone blade, activated and amplified by Jaune's Aura, and tempered by an indomitable will.

Cracks ran across the blade, before it suddenly shattered into countless pieces, which swirled around the meditating Jaune, before coalescing above his head.

As it began to take form, Harribel's jaw dropped under her mask.

She'd only told him to attempt Jinzen, to communicate with his blade!

What the hell was he doing, materializing his Zanpakuto's spirit?!

And it was still growing, absorbing Reishi from the surrounding atmosphere to fuel its apotheosis!

Should she intervene?!

The figure opened, revealing twin red orbs, that blazed with a ferocity that made her pause.

Jaune, meanwhile, unable to hear anything despite feeling the presence's acceptance of him, finally gave up and opened his eyes.

In his lap, lay his original family sword.

Also, for some reason, it was apparently night time.

That was weird.

Jaune looked up.

Hovering in the air above him, gently beating its powerful wings, was a golden dragon with purple orbs from Skyrim, grinning down at him as it covered him in its massive shadow.

At least, he assumed it was a grin, based on his interactions with Paarthurnax and Durnehviir.

His jaw dropped, as he tried to comprehend what the hell had just happened.

Then the dragon opened its mouth.

Instead of a Shout that created fire or ice or simply smashed the ground (and Jaune) into smithereens, a cheerful feminine voice loudly boomed: "Long time no see, Vomit Boy!"

Postscript: For reference, the Zanpakutō's name would be "Yang's Boner".

On a side note... yes, I'm aware that Jaune's Nameless Blade really contradicts many of the Zanpakutō facts outlined in the wiki and from the manga.

To name a few:

"All Asauchi are forged solely by Ōetsu Nimaiya. Since the birth of Soul Society itself, there has never been a Shinigami who truly awakened his or her own Zanpakutō without wielding an Asauchi which Nimaiya forged." (As mentioned before, the Nameless Blade is not, and has never been, an Asauchi.)

"Because they are part of their owner's soul, a Zanpakutō cannot be replaced, though it will slowly regenerate if it is broken." (Jaune's on sword number 4, and there is nothing stopping Jaune from getting more dragonbone blades from Eorlund Gray-Mane and then getting them enchanted by Serana.)

"The size of the Zanpakutō reflects the amount of the swordsman's spiritual power." (I mean, I guess Yang's Boner (the dragon, not the sword) is pretty big...)

"If a Shinigami pierces the chest of a Human with their Zanpakutō and channels their Reiryoku through it into the Human's body, it will transform this Human into a Shinigami temporarily." (Ask the Enclave and demons how being stabbed with an Aura-channeled Nameless Blade felt.)

"A Zanpakutō can determine if its wielder is worthy of its power. Based on this, the Zanpakutō may choose not to give its true Bankai name (and its full potential) if it feels the wielder is not worthy." (I mean, I guess the dragon could choose not to tell Jaune her name...)

"It is possible for a Zanpakutō spirit to create another Zanpakutō spirit who has their own name and appearance." (Don't let Yang's Boner ever learn about this, unless you want Jaune's pelvis to be broken.)

"A Zanpakutō cannot use elemental attacks of more than one element." (I mean, I guess the Nameless Blade's element is "Chaos"?)

Well, in this aborted timeline, once Soul Society learns about what he's done... man, they are not going to be happy.

(Aizen, on the other hand, is going to be absolutely delighted.)

SCENARIO: AVALON, THE EVER-DISTANT UTOPIA

POINT OF DEVIATION: BETWEEN CHAPTERS 83 84

Author's Notes: This is the full version of the "What If Artoria Won The Fourth Holy Grail War, And Managed To Use It Before Kiritsugu Ordered Her To Destroy It, And The Grail Sent Her Memories Back" Scenario, as promised back in Chapter 96.

Okay, seeing as how Camelot is apparently required to fall, this timeline is effectively doomed to be pruned within a century or so, barring some deus ex machina or Alaya pulling some shenanigans to correct the course... which is presumably why the Corrupted Holy Grail decides to grant Artoria's wish exactly as she said.

And I honestly couldn't figure out a proper deus ex machina to continue the story down this path (not to mention how unfair it would have been to every other girl before), which is why it went the way it did.

But even with the knowledge of how unrealistic this ending is, I think we can all enjoy filthy fluff and zany multi-dimensional shenanigans for the time being.

And so, as promised... enjoy.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

"Heya, Artoria." Kay said as he pushed the door open. "You... wanted to see me?"

"I did." Artoria nodded, finishing up the last of her biscuits (and determinedly ignoring Saber's sulking pout, as she held it firmly out of his reach). "I... have been giving some thought into our earlier discussions."

"What, at the feast just now?" Kay raised an eyebrow.

"... that, and before." Artoria's cheeks reddened slightly. "I... you were right, brother."

"I am?" Kay asked slowly. No, had he actually managed to get through to her? Did he dare to hope? Just in case, he tried confirming: "About sharing your secret with Jaune?"

"That, and courting him." Artoria nodded, ignoring how her cheeks were burning.

"Truly?" Kay pressed, unable to believe his ears.

Artoria nodded once more, unable to meet her brother's eyes as she explained: "I... was talking to him earlier, discussing the events of the past few weeks, and I have come to a realization. I... am unfit to be the King any more. I drew the Sword of Selection to save the people. And, in that respect, I have succeeded; the people have been saved. But I cannot make them happy, not when I have been failing to look after my own happiness."

Kay was torn between elation and pride, that his baby sister had finally figured it out, and irritation, that she'd ignored it when he'd tried to tell her that for months, but when her familiar spoke to her just once...

"I... I want to abdicate, Kay." Artoria admitted, continuing on. "To give up the throne, in favor of him, the man who was summoned to teach me how to be the Ideal King. I believe he can succeed, where I am failing. But I also want to continue to be by his side, to have him be a part of my life, and me a part of his. To help him during his reign, as much as he helped me."

Kay just shook his head in fond exasperation. Of course that would be part of Artoria's thoughts.

Well, as long as she was finally being honest with herself.

"So... what do you want to do now?" Kay asked, determined to help her succeed no matter what the cost.

"I..."

"I WISH I COULD PREVENT MORGAN FROM BANISHING JAUNE!"

Memories suddenly flowed into her, punching through her Magic Resistance thanks to the power of a Holy Grail.

Heartbreak.

Regret.

Grief.

Sorrow.

Hope.

Betrayal.

Rebellion.

War.

Death.

An offer.

Eternity, an eternity of pain consuming her physical form as her body warred with the power of the Crocea Mors, unable to do little more than wait and stare at the field of corpses at Camlann, her only reprieve when she was summoned to fight for the Holy Grail, to fight for a way to bring him back.

She saw an older King Arthur looking at a golden chalice in a church, with a bust that she found herself quietly envious of.

As Alaya took Lancer Artoria, their pact sealed, she smiled sadly, her task complete, and merely said: "Don't lose him this time.

"Don't ever let him go again, Artoria..."

"Artoria!" Kay's voice rang in her ears, bringing her back to reality, as she found herself on the floor. "Are you okay? What happened? Should I call for a healer? Where is that damned wizard when I need him?"

Merlin...

Artoria's eyes widened, and she immediately jumped to her feet, activating Mana Burst to speed up her movements.

"There's no time!" Artoria cried out, even as she grabbed Excalibur. "Morgan is here! Merlin and Jaune are in trouble!"

"Wait, what do you mean?" Kay asked, trying to keep up with her even as she sprinted across the hall, uncaring of how her servants and knights saw her in that moment. "How are they in danger?! What's your sister doing?!"

Artoria's jaw hardened, and her grip around her sword tightened further, as she slowly processed the memories.

The Knights of the Round Table accepting her.

Merlin's interruption and warning.

Rushing into Jaune's room, to find it empty, with a note in a book.

"She's hit Merlin with a sleeping spell." Artoria explained, never slowing her pace the whole time. "She's used that to sneak into the castle, past his defenses."

"But how did she even get him?!" Kay panted, refusing to fall behind.

"She seduced him." Artoria clarified, rounding a corner.

"... that damn wizard..." Kay groaned. "And your familiar?"

"Suggestion spell." Damn it, why was Camelot so big?! "She convinces him that Merlin's in trouble, and he allows her to banish him in exchange for Merlin's safety, as well as ours."

"... he would, too, wouldn't he..." Kay grumbled, as the pair finally reached Jaune's room.

She immediately reached for the door, and tried it, but found it locked.

"Jaune!" Artoria cried out, slamming her fist against it.

Kay pushed her aside, and smashed his body against the door, but found it as unyielding as a steel wall, which all but confirmed that something was definitely wrong.

Please, Lord, not him.

Not now!

Not now that I've finally realized how much he means to me...

"Stand aside." Artoria ordered, drawing Excalibur.

Kay's eyes widened, and he immediately backed off, as she channeled her prana into her blade, before slicing through the door.

"We have terms." They heard Jaune saying, his tone emotionless, and barged in to find his usually-vibrant eyes hollow and vacant, even as Merlin lay slumbering on his bed, and a veiled figure watched them with alarm.

"Artoria?!" Morgan was panicking, not having expected to be detected.

"MORGAN!" Artoria roared with the heat of a fire dragon's breath, as memories of the sheer pain her single action would cause burned through her, and she brandished her sword at her estranged sister. "GET. OUT. NOW!"

"How-?!"

"EX!" The Sword of Promised Victory began glowing golden. "CALI-"

Morgan wasted no time, and immediately used her teleportation spell to escape from the room, knowing she had no chance of dealing with an enraged Artoria head-on.

There was a moment of silence, as Artoria continued to scan the room, wary of any additional traps, before she finally lowered her sword, and cut off her prana to it.

Then, she rushed to her familiar's side, as he began groaning and stumbling, disoriented, while Kay moved to check on the stirring Magus of Flowers.

"Wha... what happened?" Jaune groaned, clutching his head, as he slumped against the wall. "Last I remember was Merlin on my bed, and then- oof!"

Artoria, swept away by relief, immediately embraced him tightly, unwilling to ever let him go.

"Arthur?!" Jaune yelped in a panic, utterly lost.

"Ugh... my head..." Merlin groaned, as he slowly got up with Kay's assistance.

Then he winced, as Kay elbowed his side roughly, and shot the young Knight a questioning look.

Kay simply jerked his head in his sister's direction.

Merlin turned, and saw his pupil staring longingly at her familiar, like a starving man presented with a piece of meat.

His eyes widened.

When the hell had Artoria decided to be honest with herself?!

He quickly turned back to Kay with shock, who merely placed his index finger on his lips, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

Merlin nodded in understanding, and quickly and quietly cast a spell to hide their presence from the pair.

Jaune, meanwhile, shifted uncomfortably as Arthur continued doing his best impression of an Ursa, and asked: "Did... did something happen, Arthur?"

Finally, Artoria looked up at Jaune, and her teary emeralds met his confused sapphires even as she continued sifting through the memories her future self had given her.

"You... are an idiot." Artoria finally spat, fond exasperation and bitterness both coloring her tone, though she never once relinquished her grip on her familiar. "Why did you accept Morgan's offer?! Merlin was never in any real danger!"

"What offer?!" Jaune demanded, before his eyes widened, as bits and pieces of what had happened slowly came back to him.

His thoughts about why he remained here.

His purpose for arriving.

Uncertainty for the future.

Faith in Merlin, Kay, and Arthur.

"I..."

What had he almost done?!

Why had he almost done it?!

He'd been here for eighteen months!

He'd almost built a new life here!

He'd almost began considering settling down, and starting a new life here!

Had he really almost given it up, thrown it all away?!

Artoria studied his face, and nodded in relief, as she saw the shock and horror marring his handsome features.

The future version of herself (she was just going to call her "Lancer", since that had apparently been the name she'd been using when she'd made the wish) had always held doubts, especially after Velvet's outburst, that Jaune had actually been dissatisfied with life here, and had willingly chosen an escape from her.

By the looks of it, those fears were unfounded.

"My sister. She hit you with a suggestion spell." Artoria finally explained, never breaking eye contact with him. "She... drew out your deepest fears and insecurities, tricked you, wanted to remove you from Camelot by getting you to make a contract with her."

"Your sister?" Jaune echoed in confusion. He faintly recalled Arthur saying that he didn't get along with his sister, but he'd never asked for the details. "... why would she do that?"

"She wanted to... hurt me." Artoria admitted, cheeks reddening slightly. Curiosity welling up within her, she then pressed: "By the way... Jaune... can you tell me what she told you?"

"... uh, sure..." Jaune saw no reason to refuse, and closed his eyes, trying to recall just what had been going through his muddled head. "... I... something told me... that I'd succeeded in my original purpose for being summoned."

Artoria's eyes widened in horror.

"I mean, I guess it had a point..." Jaune forced a smile, trying to make light of the situation. "After all, you're already a good king. You just need to... relax a bit more, maybe take a break once in a while, okay?"

Artoria's hands began clenching around Jaune's top.

"Besides, it's not like me disappearing would have caused that much trouble." Jaune shook his head self-deprecatingly, as Artoria looked down. "After all, you'd still have Merlin and Kay-"

"Don't." Artoria's voice was deadly quiet.

Jaune's instincts immediately began ringing warning bells.

"Don't?" He echoed, confused.

Artoria's fists tightened around Jaune's top, hard enough for him to notice.

"Don't you ever dare say that again." Artoria growled, looking back up at him, anger and grief burning in her watery green eyes. "Don't you know how much you mean to me?! How much I would grieve, if you were to suddenly disappear like that?! Have I ever made you think that you did not matter, that you weren't important to me?!"

"..." Jaune saw the raw pain in Arthur's eyes, and quietly inquired: "... did... did something happen, Arthur?"

"And that's another thing!" Artoria snapped, remembering Lancer's frustration, at never having managed to tell Jaune the truth. "Stop calling me Arthur! ... please..."

"..." Jaune blinked, but didn't interrupt, and instead waited for Arthur to continue.

Ripping off the band that kept her hair tied into its usual bun, she shook her head, allowing her hair to hang freely down her shoulders.

Then, she gripped Jaune's hand, and pressed it against her chest, as she furiously declared: "My name... is Artoria Pendragon. And I... am a woman."

Jaune's jaw dropped, and it took all of his willpower not to let his hand squeeze the soft mound that he was feeling.

He looked at his hand (and not her chest, he'd forever swear), before looking up at her face.

He'd always thought it had been feminine...

After spending half a minute looking up and down (much to Artoria's anguished amusement), Jaune finally choked out: "... this whole time?"

"Yep." Artoria drawled out, imitating her familiar's peculiar speech mannerisms.

"... why keep it a secret?" Jaune couldn't help but ask.

"Ector raised me as a man... as a knight, because he felt that it would be the best way for me to understand the heart of my knights as well." Artoria explained. "And I did want to tell you, Jaune... I truly did. But... but it never seemed like the right time, and... and... and I'm a coward, Jaune."

"A coward?" Jaune echoed, cocking his head in that certain way that made Artoria's heart always skip a beat.

"Yes." Artoria closed her eyes in shame, both at her own conduct, and at Lancer's. "A coward. I was afraid... that you might judge me poorly for the deception. That you might think less of me, for being a female King."

"..."

"... can you ever forgive me, Jaune?" Artoria reopened her eyes, and searched Jaune's, looking for any hints of disgust.

"... there's really nothing to forgive, Artoria..." Jaune reassured her gently, shaking his head. "If anything, I feel like I should be saying sorry now, since you apparently thought I might have judged you just for that..."

"It's not your fault, Jaune." Artoria quickly protested.

"... I mean, I told you, I faked my way into Huntsman training, after all." Jaune laughed awkwardly, trying to lighten the mood. "There's no way I'd be in any position to say anything about keeping secrets, not to mention that most of the top students in the school that I knew were women who could (and often did) kick my ass!"

"... and that is another thing we'll have to discuss later, too..." Artoria muttered under her breath, frowning at the reminder that there were other women in Jaune's former lives that he had been close to.

God, how had Lancer never realized she might have competition for Jaune's heart?

She could still feel Lancer's heart attack, when she'd realized that Sir Velvet might have also had feelings for him too...

"I'm sorry?" Jaune blinked, not having caught that.

Artoria sighed, and for a moment was tempted to simply move on.

She crushed that temptation like it had been the Questing Beast.

Lancer's sacrifice had given her a chance.

For both her happiness, and Lancer's memory, she would not waste it.

She could not lose him now.

"There is... one more thing, I wish to speak with you about, Jaune." Artoria spoke slowly and seriously, shifting closer towards Jaune.

Jaune gulped, unable to move (since his hand was still being forcibly pressed against her chest), unsure of how to deal with Arthur... no, Artoria's newfound disregard for his personal space.

"Go-go on?" Jaune choked out, as her face stopped mere inches away from his.

"It is..." Artoria's warm breath tickled Jaune's face. "About what we were discussing earlier."

"Yeah?" Jaune all but squeaked. "About you being a good king?"

"Indeed." Artoria confirmed with a nod. "After your words to me... I have realized that I am unfit to be the King any longer."

"Wait, what?" Jaune demanded, breaking out of her spell. "What are you talking about? You're a great King!"

"Jaune..." Artoria sighed, able to guess that this was coming.

"Is this about you being a girl?" Jaune asked indignantly. "Do I need to talk some sense into you again?!"

"As much as I would enjoy that, no." Artoria replied drily. "That is unrelated to my Kingship.

"Jaune... with your help, and the help of my loyal subjects, the lands enjoy an era of peace, unrivalled even by the times of the Empire! Our former enemies are our friends now, the ruins of Londinium have become the thriving city of Camelot, and the threat of the White Dragon is gone.

"And that is why, I can no longer call myself King.

"I drew Caliburn that day because I wanted to save my people, Jaune! And they have been saved! But your words earlier... you were right. I have saved them; I do not know how to lead them to happiness and prosperity, since I myself have neglected my own happiness!"

"Oh, so you're just taking my advice about taking a break?" Jaune asked, breathing a sigh of relief, that Artoria wasn't being a complete idiot.

"In a sense." Artoria nodded cryptically.

"Well, I guess I am to blame for that..." Jaune rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand sheepishly, relieved that she was seeing sense (and not being an idiot). "So, who'll take over while you're on vacation? ... please don't tell me it's your sister..."

"I would rather put Gawain on the throne than Morgan." Artoria sniffed haughtily, before shaking her head. "But no. I have someone else in mind. Or rather, I only have one person in mind."

"Oh?" Jaune raised an eyebrow. He'd only suggested it to her a few hours ago! "That's... quick? So, who is it?"

"It's you." Artoria answered frankly.

"..." Jaune blinked.

"..." Artoria smiled bashfully at him, unable to help the coloring of her cheeks as she awaited his response.

"..." Finally, Jaune's mind finished rebooting. "... ME?!"

"Yes, Jaune." Artoria nodded serenely. "You are my first and only choice, to be the King of Camelot."

"Are you mad?!" Jaune was horrified. Him?! A King?!

It was official.

This world was crazy.

"Do you have any objections?" Artoria fought to keep the desperation out of her voice, reflecting ruefully that neither she nor Lancer had actually made any plans for convincing Jaune if he rejected her plan.

"Of course I do!" Jaune exclaimed. "What in Oum's name makes you think I'd be a good King?!"

"You are already the Chancellor and Steward of Camelot, Jaune." Artoria reminded him gently. "You have been running Camelot with no trouble for the past year."

"That doesn't mean I can be a King, Artoria!" Jaune vehemently protested. "I'm just a kid who faked his transcripts and died a few times, remember?! I'm not even from this world, nor do I have any claim to the throne! I-I-"

"Jaune." Artoria placed a finger on his lips.

"..." Jaune took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. "... why me, Artoria? What in Oum's name makes you think that I can take over you?"

"Because you are, and have always been, the person I have looked up to, when I have tried to be King." Artoria replied lovingly.

As Jaune's jaw dropped once again, and he pointed his finger at himself in disbelief, Artoria chuckled and nodded. "Yes, Jaune. You, one of the most hard-working and selfless individuals I have ever met, a person who never let death stop him from working to help others, are the person I consider my ideal King.

"I will admit, though... you do have a point, that you do not have any claim to the throne." Artoria reluctantly conceded. "Even though you were able to draw Caliburn as well, it is currently lost, and we thus have no way to prove it."

"So I can't be King, then?" Jaune found himself getting more and more confused.

"Not unless I marry you." Artoria nodded, not missing a beat.

Jaune blinked.

Then he blinked again.

Then he blinked a third time, before he stared at her with wide eyes.

What had she just said?

"... wait, did you just propose to me, just to get out of being King?!" Jaune asked in utter disbelief.

"Of course not." Artoria rolled her eyes.

"Oh, thank Oum-"

"I am courting you because I love you, Jaune Arc." Artoria followed up instantly.

If Jaune's jaw could go any lower, it would have hit the castle's foundations.

Artoria took a second to savor the emotions running through her at the moment.

Apprehension and nervousness; that was a given.

But she also felt... oddly liberated, that she'd finally told her familiar just how she'd felt about him.

Like a weight had finally been lifted from her chest.

"I-uh-but... you do?" Jaune stammered before asking once again, wondering if his ears had failed him.

"Yep," Artoria giggled.

Giggled!

It was definitely official.

The world was utterly insane.

"... since when?" Jaune couldn't help but ask.

"Since I lost Caliburn, and you cheered me up." Artoria answered easily.

"That long ago?"

How in Remnant had he not noticed that?!

"Yep." Artoria nodded once more. Then, apprehension entered her face, and she quietly asked: "Is... is it a problem?"

"... Artoria, I've spent eighteen months looking at you as a guy." Jaune quickly clarified, not wanting to hurt her feelings. "I mean, sure, I've always thought you were attractive, but-"

"You think I'm attractive?" Artoria asked hopefully.

"... can we pretend I never said that?"

"Nope."

"..."

"... Jaune, I do not want to pressure you into making a decision that you would regret." Artoria's tone became somber, and her mood became more serious, as she tried to reassure him: "I love you, but I value your companionship and wishes equally. If you do not wish to-"

"No, no, that's not it!" Jaune quickly shook his head. "Artoria... I don't have any problems with you, honest! You've been, like, my closest friend since I came here! It's just that... I've been purposely not looking at you in that way this whole time! I... I just need some time to adjust and get used to it, you know?"

"... I understand, Jaune." Artoria nodded somberly.

"... and, well... I've also died a few times, remember?" Jaune pointed out, his usual self-deprecation rearing its head. "I don't think you want a zombie from another world as your boyfriend anyway, especially not one that has no experience in being in a relationship..."

Artoria shot him a flat look, as she finally realized just what was holding him back.

"... really?" She couldn't help but sigh. "You're suggesting that I reconsider my decision, because of that?"

"Hey, what does-"

"I have known your tale since the day we first met, Jaune." Artoria reminded him. "Never once have I shamed you for your sacrifices, or your experiences. If anything, I find you admirable, for your constant dedication to your duty, despite all of it!

"And as for you being some "undead" creature..." Artoria gently pressed her hand against his chest, feeling his racing heart. "I feel your heart, Jaune, as I know you feel mine. As far as I am concerned, you are alive.

"And regarding relationship experience..." Artoria's voice trailed off, and her cheeks colored, before she softly said: "If anything, I find your lack of experience to be a comfort. Lord knows, I do not need more competition..."

"Competition?" Jaune repeated, blinking. "What competit-"

"My point is, Jaune." Artoria continued on, refusing to let him distract her with his words. "I can understand if you find my body unattractive, or if you despise me for my deception. But if you insult my choices by suggesting to me that you are in any way inadequate... I will correct your misconceptions, even if it means I have to sing your praises in the middle of Camelot all day. Understood?"

Jaune gulped and nodded, knowing full well that she would do it.

"Good." Artoria purred in satisfaction.

A companionable silence filled the air, as the pair maintained their position.

Finally, Jaune spoke up first, breaking it: "So... what now?"

"Well, I am still hoping that you will accept my offer." Artoria looked up at him, almost pleadingly.

"... Artoria... I'm not going to date you just for the sake of the throne." Jaune told her firmly. "You deserve so much more, so much better. You deserve to actually be with someone you love, not simply being with someone for the sake of politics."

"And you don't think you're that person?" Artoria asked quietly, refusing to allow herself any tears.

Jaune looked down at her, and once again saw the ethereal beauty under the moonlight, though he now knew that the boy he'd thought would be a heartbreaker, was in fact a girl who wanted his own heart.

His heart skipped a beat, as he realized that he'd stopped thinking of Artoria as "Arthur" for a few minutes already, without realizing it.

His blue eyes searched her vivid green eyes, seeing the quiet, desperate hope within, and he decided to take a moment to confront the topic head-on.

Did he not like her?

Was he averse to getting closer to her?

Of course not!

Hadn't he been considering settling down here, now that he'd been here for so long?

For Oum's sake, he'd fought a world-eating dragon, the Enclave, and demons!

Was he really that afraid of messing up a relationship?

No, that wasn't fair.

He'd been with Artoria for eighteen months; he'd known her for even longer than Team JNPR had been a thing, at this point!

Of course he didn't want to do anything that would hurt her.

But at the same time...

Wouldn't he be hurting her, if he rejected her feelings?

And for what?

Because Weiss had turned him down hard?

Because he'd never had a girlfriend before?

Hell, he'd died a few times!

Maybe it was time he lived for once.

His free hand reached out, and gently cupped her chin.

"... I... want to be that person." Jaune told her honestly. "I... I don't know if I can be, but I want to be."

"Really?" Artoria couldn't fight the hope that crept into her voice.

"Really." Jaune nodded, smiling softly. Then it grew further, as he admitted: "Trust me, I'm as surprised as you are. I mean, I just spent a year thinking you and Guinivere would be a cute couple... wait, is this why you always deflected, whenever I teased you about it?!"

"... dense oaf." Artoria murmured in fond exasperation, leaning into his hand. "... so, does this mean...?"

"I guess it does." Jaune confirmed. "... I mean, you know, unless you're having second thoughts..."

"I have never been more sure of anything in my life, Jaune." Artoria solemnly swore, remembering Lancer's regrets.

"Then I guess we're dating." Jaune then blinked, realizing something. "... wait a second, but doesn't everyone still think you're a guy?"

Ah, right.

"I was planning on calling a meeting of the Round Table tomorrow morning, and telling them the truth." Artoria explained. "I have faith that they will take it well."

"... I'm sure they will." Jaune smiled supportively at her. "You've earned their loyalty and trust."

Well, sure, but she'd already seen it play out before, so there was also that.

"Do you want me to help you make any preparations for it?" Jaune offered.

"I would like that, yes." Artoria smiled back. "We should go and see Merlin and Kay for aid; I'm confident that they... can... assist us..."

Wordlessly, a mortified Artoria turned towards the direction of Jaune's bed, where she'd last seen the pair.

Merlin chose that moment to dismiss his spell, and cheerfully waved at her, greeting his godchild: "Good morning, Artoria! Finally remembered that we're here?"

Next to him, a blubbering Kay was wailing about how his "baby sister was all grown up" and "finally, it was about damn time".

Artoria's eye and unique lock of hair both twitched in frustration.

"Merlin! Kay!" Jaune jumped, realizing the two were still there. "... uh, hey! How are.. how..."

"Oh, don't mind us." Merlin waved away magnanimously, eyes twinkling with mischief. "By all means, please, keep going."

""...""

"By the way, how much longer do you need to confirm to yourself that Artoria is, indeed, a woman?" Merlin asked innocently.

"I'm sorry!" Jaune yelped, finally withdrawing his hand from Artoria's chest.

That fucking pansy...

-THREE YEARS LATER-

"And we're done." Jaune triumphantly declared, as he finally finished drawing up plans for a highway between Essex, Sussex, Kent, and Camelot. As he moved it to the side, he took a moment to stretch his stiff back, groaning with satisfaction, before thanking the room's other occupant: "Thanks for helping me, Velvet."

"It is of no problem, my King." Velvet smiled at him. "After all, you did far more than this, when you were the Steward of Camelot."

"Yeah, well, that doesn't mean you need to spend every waking moment by my side, Velvet." Jaune rolled his eyes, before reminding her: "You're no longer my squire, remember? You should be having adventures and stuff like the other Knights of the Round Table."

"My mother is still at large, my liege." Velvet reminded him, refusing to budge. "After what she did to you last time, I'm sure the Queen would agree with my actions."

Jaune's mouth fell shut, and he found himself unable to rebut her point.

After all, he knew full well that Artoria would have (and often did) say he needed to take better care of himself.

If anything, if she had her way, he'd have probably had half the Round Table chained to him at all times.

He couldn't blame her; if he'd been in her shoes, he'd have probably been just as bad.

At the same time, though, he couldn't in good conscience allow that to happen; the Knights of the Round Table were needed across the country.

And so, their current compromise - his Squire had become his personal bodyguard, and taken over some of his former duties, once he'd been kicked upstairs.

"Still..." Jaune refused to concede so easily. "At least allow me to pay you back-"

"I refuse." Velvet immediately interrupted, folding her arms sternly across her chest.

Jaune just sighed, before noticing Velvet's foot fidgeting slightly.

"Are you sure?" Jaune pressed eagerly, sensing weakness.

"Well... if you truly insist..." Velvet reluctantly gave in. "It has been a long time, since we've had a private training session, and I fear that my skills with the Crocea Mors may have grown rusty. Perhaps, if you could show me how to handle a sword once more-"

The door slammed open, interrupting them.

A golden blur dashed into the room, before smashing into Jaune's chest, rocking him slightly.

Velvet just sighed, cursing her luck.

That was the third time this week!

As Saber began enthusiastically play-wrestling with the King, and an exasperated Velvet began keeping papers before they could become casualties of the fight, a giggling figure leapt off of Saber's back, before clinging on to Jaune's arm, joining the fight on Saber's side.

"Papa!"

"Nice to see you too, Mordred." Jaune couldn't help but smile warmly, as he beheld his daughter once more.

Oum, she was already two years old, and he still couldn't believe he was a father.

"She's been crying for you all day, you know." A regal voice gently informed him, as yet another figure entered the room.

Jaune looked up at Artoria, who was now unmistakably a woman, having convinced Merlin to lift the effects of Avalon from her body, and the two shared a small smile, before he turned to his daughter, and asked: "Aw, did you? Don't worry, Mordred; Papa missed you too!"

"My queen." Velvet acknowledged Artoria's presence with a quick nod, which Artoria easily returned.

It was true, she knew, that her niece's affections for her husband definitely went beyond the mere bond of a respected mentor and an awestruck student.

But at the same time, she knew, from both her experience and Lancer's memories, that Velvet was a skilled fighter, an honorable knight, and loyal to Jaune to a fault, who had only ended up betraying her in the other timeline because her beloved husband had been a dense oaf who'd neglected to fully explain his unique circumstances and complicated feelings (a situation she'd worked to rectify as soon as she'd been able to).

In the end, she could ask for no better bodyguard to protect her husband.

Of course, despite that, despite the fact that she could say with complete honesty that she trusted Velvet, and held her in high regard...

Well, it just wasn't proper, to let her husband be alone with an unwed woman whose feelings for him went beyond platonic.

No reason to lead poor Velvet into temptation.

"You may take your leave for the day, Sir Velvet." Artoria spoke respectfully to the youngest member of the Round Table, as she dismissed her.

"..." Velvet nodded wordlessly, but before she could leave Artoria noticed her gaze return to her husband, as he doted on Saber and Mordred.

"... don't worry, Velvet." Artoria reassured her, as her gaze became warm and longing. "I'm sure you'll find someone as well."

"... thank you, your highness." Velvet spoke curtly, before exiting the room.

Artoria watched her go, wondering if she was just being insecure and paranoid (Gawain had only stopped remarking on how small her chest was three months ago), before shaking her head.

Lancer's future had been averted.

The Scots and the Picts were quiet.

Their alliance with the Saxons and the Jutes was stronger than ever, with Kay and Rowena's recent wedding.

Morgan was still hiding under a rock (and she and Merlin had already prepared counter-measures, using Lancer's memories of hunting down her sister).

Jaune was on the throne.

Her people were happier than they'd ever been.

She was happier than she'd ever been, with her husband and daughter with her (with more children to come, she hoped).

"Are you thinking about something?" Jaune's voice interrupted her thoughts, and she turned to face him just as he gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

"Just counting my blessings, Jaune." Artoria told him, unable to help the smile that graced her features.

Jaune grinned, and allowed Mordred to climb onto his head as he embraced his wife from behind, as he admitted: "I know what you mean. I still can't believe this is where I ended up, after everything that happened. Sometimes, it all feels like a dream, you know?"

She did.

After all, though she'd have never even dared dream that she'd be this blessed when she drew Caliburn, this had been Lancer's dream, throughout all those centuries.

Instead of speaking, though, she responded by lightly nipping him on the lip, before nuzzling deeper into his chest, sighing contentedly.

The two took a moment to savor their proximity.

Then Kay and Merlin burst in, panting.

Artoria and Jaune immediately tensed, as they noted the speedy arrival of the pair.

"Is it Morgan?" Artoria asked, already reaching for Excalibur.

"We... don't know..." Kay breathed between pants. Then he looked at Jaune, and stated: "You... should probably come and see this, Jaune."

-FIELDS OF CAMNLANN, THIRTY MINUTES AGO-

"Maxson, status report!"

"All systems' still green, Elder!"

"Good." Sarah nodded approvingly, before turning to Vargas. "Sensors?"

"Nothimg on radar yet, ma'am."

Sarah and the Lyons' Pride on the bridge of the Prydwen breathed a sigh of relief at that news, and finally allowed themselves to relax fractionally.

Sure, the Sink and the floating brains had assured them that this was the dimension that they'd last tracked Jaune's Aura in, and the Sink had been trying to send Jaune home, but seeing as how it was Jaune, none of them wanted to take it for granted that they were in a nice and peaceful dimension.

Also, the brains were apparently senile and/or batshit crazy, and had no concept of trivial concerns like "safety" and "ethics".

"I still don't see what the big fuss is." Pyrrha Nikos crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. "If there was any danger, Jaune would have taken care of it by now."

Correction; almost none of them wanted to take it for granted.

"For the last time, you goddamn lunatic, he's only human!" Ruby Ironwood snapped at the delusional courier, who simply ignored it with the zeal of a fanatic.

Honestly, she still couldn't believe that there was a rapidly-growing cult in the Mojave that saw Jaune Arc as an Archangel of all things.

Then again, seeing as how half the Brotherhood were convinced he was the literal King Arthur...

Shaking her head, she put thoughts of crazy cults out of her mind, as she strode towards the window, and took her first look at the new dimension they found themselves in.

Rolling grassy hills and a clear river greeted her, contrasted by fluffy white clouds and a simple blue sky.

Her breath escaped her body momentarily, taken from her via her hanging jaw.

"It's... so green..." Ruby murmured, joining her.

Pyrrha wordlessly observed the view, faith in the Arcangel strengthened once more. After all, where else could they be, but in Heaven?

Turning to Ruby, she asked: "So... where do you think we are?"

"Well, we're certainly not in Kansas, Toto." Ruby smirked back, before adding: "But we're definitely not in Remnant."

"How do you know?" Sarah raised an eyebrow.

"The moon." Ruby pointed up. "It's not broken. Also, we're not being attacked by hordes of nightmarish shadow monsters."

"Ah, right, he told us that before..." Sarah murmured, recalling their discussion, after they'd first seen him in action.

For some reason, she found herself unsurprised by the fact that Ruby Ironwood could immediately remember what Jaune Arc had said.

Instead, she asked: "So, do you think he's still here?"

"... I don't see any walls of ice, but we won't know until we get down there." Ruby replied, trying to disguise the fact that she just wanted to see what real grass felt like.

Sarah saw through her easily, but chose not to say anything about it.

After all, the members of the Pride were giving her pleading looks too, and she herself couldn't deny her curiosity.

Fighting down a smile, she ordered: "Pride! Get to our Vertibird, now!"

The Pride (and the Courier) double-timed it out of the bridge, and towards the Vertibird docking stations, and boarded Pride One like the Enclave were on their heels, as Reddin took them down to the surface.

As they descended, and the Vertibird's doors slid open, the Wastelanders were afforded their first breaths of fresh, unspoiled air, and a close-up view of their surroundings.

Dusk summed up their feelings in two words: "It's beautiful..."

"Focus, Pride." Sarah snapped, knowing how dangerous Jaune's luck could be. "Colvin, any activity."

"I see some movement..." Colvin reported, looking down at a field from a nearby hill with his binoculars. "Wait one... yeah, I see people. Woah... I still can't believe we're looking at people from other dimensions..."

"You've been looking at one every time you saw Jaune, Colvin." Sarah rolled her eyes, before adding: "And no, his home dimension isn't Avalon or Heaven."

"Suuuure..." Reddin agreed sarcastically.

"Shows what you know, heathen." Pyrrha rolled her eyes.

Sarah chose to ignore the two fanatical zealots in favor of continuing to assess the situation: "Are they armed? Do they look hostile?"

"Negative, ma'am... they look like they're panicking, and pointing at the Prydwen. I see some items lying on the floor, but they look more like primitive farming tools than weapons..."

Before Sarah could process the information and react, Colvin's voice took on a more strained tone: "Hold on... got one guy incoming. He's... riding on a horse, and drawing a sword out?"

"What material is the sword, Colvin?"

"Looks like metal, ma'am." Colvin knew what she was getting at. "Not bone. Should I engage?"

"Do not engage, Colvin." Sarah barked. "We're not here to start a war. Fall back, and let him approach us."

A tense silence followed, as the Pride regrouped, and waited for the figure to approach.

Finally, two minutes later, a man in full plate armor reached their group, and announced: "Halt, strangers! You are trespassing upon the lands of our King! State your business at once!"

"We, uh... we mean you no harm!" Ruby squeaked, as Sarah nudged her forward. "We're just looking for someone, Mister... uh, who are you?"

"Truly, you have not heard of my name?" The man blinked, completely taken aback.

"... we're not really from around here..." Ruby explained sheepishly.

"I see... I should have figured, from your unusual metal steed, and the odd arms you bear, and armors you wear." The man looked around at the strangers in power armor, as well as weapons that resembled what the King had once called "guns", and merely brushed it off. "There is no harm here, then; you speak to Sir Gawain, the Solar Knight!"

Sarah's eyes widened behind her helmet, and she surreptitiously turned around.

Fortunately, Reddin wasn't as well-versed in Arthurian myth and legend as she'd have liked to claim, and didn't realize the significance of the name.

Also, it could just as easily be another Gawain...

As Sarah breathed a sigh of relief, Ruby answered: "Well, I'm Ruby, and that's Sarah, and we're part of a group called the Brotherhood of Steel-"

"Ahem."

"... oh, and the crazy bitch there is a courier who won't leave us alone." Ruby finished.

"..." Gawain spent a moment wondering why those names seemed familiar, but he eventually decided to put it aside for the time being, in favor of assessing their motives, and what dangers they posed to his cousin and her Kingdom. "Sir Ruby, may I ask for what reason do you seek your quarry?"

"He's a... friend of ours." Ruby explained curtly, privately considering the term an understatement. "He went missing after... well... it's a long story, but let's just say we owe him our lives."

"..." To her surprise, Gawain's eyes began watering in empathy, and he loudly exclaimed: "Oh, what loyalty you and yours show for your friend, that you would come all this way for him! My sister would be moved by your story, truly!

"In this case, I suggest that you make your way to the city, and plead your case before the King!" Gawain continued suggesting. "He was known as the Knight of Compassion before he married my cousin and ascended to the throne, and his heart has not wavered in the time since! Between his knowledge and the court wizard's wisdom, I'm sure you will find what you're seeking!"

"He sure seems friendly..." Colvin noted.

"Gotta wonder what would have happened if we weren't looking for a friend, though..." Dusk wondered out loud, a frown on her face.

"Why, then I would have been forced to stop you from entering the city." Gawain answered easily, his sharp hearing more than able to pick up their whispers. "While I may sympathize with bringing a fugitive to justice, I hope you can understand that I cannot allow strangers with guns to run amok throughout the city; Lord only knows what kind of havoc you could cause, should you be overzealous!"

"Wait a second." Sarah blinked. "How the fuck do you know what a gun is?!"

"... ah, right, I forget." Gawain slapped his head. "If you haven't heard of me, I doubt you would have heard of my dear sister, or Ira Lupus.

"She, along with my mother, originally designed a gun-lance, though it was crude and unrefined. With her mentor's help, however, she refined it, and learned how to channel the energy of the explosion through a barrel."

"..." Sarah rubbed her temples, trying to process this weird and anachronistic world, where people had swords and rode on horses, but also had gun-lances.

Ruby, ever-interested in weapons, picked up the slack: "So, what causes the explosion? Gunpowder?"

"What's "gunpowder"?" Gawain blinked in confusion. "No, she uses magic blue ether."

The members of the Pride exchanged looks, unsure if it was the medieval knight mistaking science for magic, or if this world genuinely had magic.

Before, they would have all agreed on the former, but having seen Jaune in action...

Ruby searched her memories, trying to think of any reactive compounds that were blue, but came up short.

"So, are guns common around here?" Ruby inquired, wondering if she could get her hands on a sample for studying.

"My sister's weapon is one-of-a-kind." Gawain shook his head with a smile. "Her mentor, the King, has something similar, but it too is unique."

"Is his also attached to a lance or something?"

"No, his is a single weapon by itself." Gawain clarified. "It somewhat resembles the arms your compatriots bear, though yours are larger, and seem sleeker and shinier. His more closely resembles the... uh, courier's who has joined with you."

Ruby nodded, mentally filing the information away.

Then, to her surprise, Sir Gawain took a closer look at her greatsword, and continued: "However, I see that you use a blade too, Sir Rose! Do you consider yourself proficient with it? Does it have a name?"

"I call it Arondight!" Ruby answered enthusiastically, drawing the sword from her back. Then her face fell slightly, as she admitted: "I'm still not as good as the friend who taught me, and it still can't do everything his could do..."

"Oh, does it have a special function?" Gawain raised an eyebrow. "For example, my sword is said to be like the sun; it can radiate enough heat and light to wipe out entire armies."

"Oh, my sword can do this!" Ruby activated her sword's special function, and it burst into flames while sparks of lightning ran down it, ignoring the shocked looks the Pride were giving each other, at the man's casual announcement of his ability to destroy entire armies.

"Intriguing..." Gawain murmured, taking a closer look. "It does not seem to bear any mark of witchcraft..."

"You know what witchcraft looks like?" Sarah asked, raising an eyebrow.

"My mother is a witch." Gawain shrugged.

"... you know, that would explain why he hasn't seemed in any way surprised by our toys..." Colvin whispered to Dusk.

"Oh, your "toys" are most certainly fascinating." Gawain once again demonstrated his amazing hearing. "But Camelot is a kingdom of mysteries and wonders. The Nameless Blade has the properties of fire, lightning, and ice, my cousin and I bear holy swords from the Lady of the Lake, and the King punched a dragon in the face. You learn to just roll with things, especially when Merlin's around..."

""...""

"Camelot, he just said Camelot..."

"The Lady of the Lake?"

"Merlin?"

"The King punched a dragon in the face?! Are you fucking kidding me?!"

Ruby ignored all the mutterings behind her, in favor of the description of the "Nameless Blade".

Only one sword she knew could do that.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she asked: "I'm sorry, could you tell me more about this Nameless Bla-"

Before she could finish her sentence, a massive orb of blackened purple flames suddenly materialized into existence near them.

Gawain's eyes widened, and he drew his sword even as he let out an alarmed cry of: "Sorcery!"

The Pride (and Pyrrha) instinctively raised their weapons as well, and trained it at the new target.

And then nine figures fell through it towards the ground.

Seven of them easily spun around and stuck the landing.

One of them Shouted... something, and landed harmlessly.

And the last one suddenly halted just before she hit the ground, before rotating in mid-air, and being gently placed onto the ground feet-first.

There was a tense silence, as Gawain and the Pride (and Pyrrha) studied the newcomers, who slowly got up, looking around.

Then the one who landed harmlessly spoke up: "Divines damn it, Serana! This isn't Remnant!"

"Wait, what?" Serana blinked, looking up.

Indeed, the sky lacked a broken moon.

"I thought your spell was supposed to lock on to Jaune's Aura?" Weiss demanded.

"It was!" Serana protested.

"Come on, guys." Pyrrha Nikos spoke up, trying to calm them down. "I'm sure we can figure out where we... are..."

Pyrrha Nikos's voice trailed off, as she noticed the people around them.

Namely, one in particular.

Pyrrha the Courier had taken off her elite riot gear helmet, to make sure her eyes weren't fucking with her.

After all, standing there, in what she could only guess was roleplay fetish gear, was a girl who looked almost exactly like she had, when she'd been kicked out of the Branwen Tribe.

The older Courier and the younger Huntress stared at each other.

Finally, the Courier spoke first: "What the fuck is going on?"

"Hey, P-Money, looks like we found the you from this dimension!" Yang crowed.

"At least she has both arms." Doppelyanger pointed out wryly, causing Yang's face to fall.

"Yang!" Ruby Rose whined, causing attention to fall on her.

"... is it just me, or am I seeing a second Sentinel Ironwood?" Reddin spoke up first, on the Brotherhood's side.

"No, Paladin, I'm seeing it too." Sarah replied, before asking Ruby Ironwood: "By the way, Ruby... is it just me or did they say "Remnant" just now?"

Ruby Ironwood wordlessly removed her helmet, attracting the attention of Ruby Rose and the Yangs.

There was pregnant pause, as everyone tried to figure out what the hell was going on.

The pause dragged on, as the confusion only grew.

And then the silence was broken, as they heard another commotion.

Gawain turned back in the direction of Camelot, and his eyes widened.

A tall figure in a regal blue cloak approached them, riding a massive lion, flanked by dozens of armored knights.

A simple crown rested on his brow, contrasted by his golden locks.

A greatsword lay sheathed in a white scabbard by his hip.

Then his voice reached them, carried by the wind.

"... Velvet, check the surround villages, make sure nothing's- what in Oum's name is the Prydwen doing here?!"

"The Prydwen? You mean the shield-ship in the armory, Jaune?"

"No, no, I mean the giant airship in the sky! Remember the tales I told you, about the desert Wasteland I was in?"

"... ah, right. But wasn't that in another world?"

"Yep." Jaune spoke curtly, as he finally reached Gawain on Saber, followed by Artoria, Velvet, and the other Knights of the Round Table. "Gawain."

"My King." Gawain genuflected immediately.

"Come on, no need for formalities." Jaune rolled his eyes. "So, what's going on... here..."

There was a stunned silence, as Jaune finally noticed the Lyons' Pride, the Courier, Serana, the Dragonborn, and the members of Team JNPR and Team RWBY all standing in the middle of Camlann, staring at him like they'd just seen a ghost.

"... guys?" Jaune's voice was soft and shaky, as if he couldn't believe it. "... is... is it really you?"

Unfortunately, the Dragonborn recovered first.

"Jaune!" Yang enthusiastically leapt at him, eager to make sure her companion was completely fine.

Before she could reach him, however, an armored blonde woman jumped between her and her partner, drawing a sword from her waist as she did so, and forcing Yang to halt.

"I know not who you are or what your intentions may be, but you will not lay a hand on my husband." Artoria Pendragon growled, firmly planting her sword tip-first into the ground, even as Velvet pulled a stunned Jaune back before he could protest.

"Who do you think you are, to get between me and... did you just say husband?!" Yang demanded.

"I am Artoria Pendragon." Artoria introduced herself, never once easing up her glare on her fellow blonde, as all her instincts screamed at her that this was a Morgan-level threat. "Heir to Uther Pendragon, One of Two who Drew the Sword from the Stone, Wielder of Excalibur, Slayer of the White Dragon, Queen of the Britons, Wife to King Jaune Arc, and Mother to Mordred Pendragon."

Silence descended upon the fields of Camlann, as the extradimensionals looked incredulously between a possessive Artoria and a bashful Jaune, who did absolutely nothing to correct her words.

And then Yang Xiao-Long whistled: "Wow... Lady Killer got hitched..."

Postscript: Yes, the Battle of Camlann in this What-If Scenario is basically just the biggest cat-fight in the history of that world..

Honestly, I really did consider letting the story end with this scenario (minus the time travel/memory transfer aspects, naturally). After all... I truly take little pleasure in writing sad and depressing downers.

I want to give everyone a happy ending too, damn it!

And that's the thing.

It's a happy ending for Artoria and Jaune, don't get me wrong.

But he never returns home and never finds closure with his old family, instead moving on and starting a new one.

And more importantly, his friends and companions would never stop looking for him (just look at DovahYang).

Which is why I turned it into a full-on What-If Scenario...

Including the logical conclusion of all these circumstances; a horribly-botched reunion that ends with a blonde warrior with lilac eyes and a dragon's soul fighting against a blonde warrior with green eyes and a dragon's soul over a blonde warrior with blue eyes and a dragon's soul.

... and as I write it now, I do realize that Jaune would probably be convinced to go back home temporarily, if only to apologize to his family, and show them the newest addition to the Arc family.

But it doesn't change the fact that, like it or not, hearts would be broken here.

SCENARIO: SABER OF RED

POINT OF DEVIATION: CHAPTER 67

Author's Notes: This "What-If Scenario" is basically "What If Samuel Hayden Sent Jaune To Camelot During Mordred's Time, Rather Than Hueco Mundo".

Okay, so this was a very popular request, which I only didn't do because I couldn't figure out any way to fit Mordred into the Jaune-meddled Camelot timeline (also, there are some topics I really have no interest in touching with a hundred-foot pole).

But, since I do read all reviews and take all feedback (even if I don't have time to reply to everyone and everything), I decided to do a little digging.

And after digging my way into the rabbit hole that is the FATE lore (on a side note, can someone help me get out?), I do agree.

There's definitely some potential to be had in a Jaune Mordred story.

Truly, such a shame.

Someone should totally write that story as well.

Mordred panted, and grit her teeth in frustration, as she glared at Timothy the Enchanter, who only looked at her knowingly as he slowly opened his mouth.

"Don't say it." Mordred warned.

"I-"

"Don't!" Mordred growled.

"Told-"

"Don't you fucking dare!"

"You-"

"Finish that sentence and I'll-"

"So." Timothy the Enchanter finished smugly.

"GAH!" Mordred roared, and furiously kicked a nearby rock, cursing her entire life up until that point.

Being a homunculus.

Her bitch of a mother.

Her shitty childhood.

Being told that it was her right to defeat the King of Knights and take his throne.

She'd thought things were finally looking up, when she'd been sent Camelot, and made a Knight of the Round Table.

Unfortunately, things were never that simple.

Sure, she got to work for the King she admired the most, and she was free from her bitch of a mother...

But the other Knights didn't magically respect her.

The servants and guards in the castle still gave her a wide berth when she passed, and whispered in her wake.

She didn't magically make new friendships, gain new companions.

Not that she cared, of course; she just wanted to serve the King.

And she most definitely was not envious, seeing the way her older siblings were treated compared to her!

Especially Gareth, who didn't even have to hide her face! She was twice the fighter Gareth would ever be, and yet she already had a seat number despite still technically being Lancelot's squire!

And the way everyone else seemed to agree that Gareth would someday be the greatest of the Knights of the Round Table...

Hello? She'd skipped even being a squire!

(The fact that this wasn't in any way Gareth's fault was known to (and ignored by) Mordred. Only Agravain knew Mordred was their half-sibling; Gawain, Gaheris, and Gareth had been deemed too soft and compassionate by Morgan, and she'd decided to keep them in the dark. In any case, Mordred's blunt attitude hadn't exactly won her any favors to begin with.)

Of course, it wasn't like she cared about receiving respect from the others.

Of course, it wasn't like she needed approval from the others.

Of course, it wasn't like she wanted to be treated like how the others treated her older siblings.

Oh, no.

She'd merely dragged Sir Bors along with her to hunt down a rumor about a monster in Caerbannog because she'd wanted to be of service to the King and his Kingdom, that's all!

And if she'd managed to earn a merit and impress the others, well, that would just be a totally-unfortunate-and-unintended side effect, now wouldn't it?

Sir Bors...

She looked at his bleeding form, and couldn't help but wince.

She hadn't ever intended for him to get hurt...

But she's underestimated the Beast, and he'd pulled her out of the way just in time.

The Beast had managed to sink its teeth into his throat, and had almost ripped his head off before she'd managed to fend it off and pull him to safety.

Unfortunately, he'd been carrying the medical supplies, and had dropped them in front of the Beast's lair when it had attacked them.

"Can't you help him?" Mordred desperately demanded, glaring at Timothy as she clumsily wrapped a cloth around his neck.

"I'm an Enchanter, not a Healer." Timothy shrugged, unconcerned by their plight. "As a Knight, you should be more well-versed in treating battlefield injuries than my self."

Mordred bit her lips in worry, as she once more studied the wound.

The situation didn't change.

The only way she could save the old Knight, was with the medical supplies he'd dropped in front of the Beast.

But, loath as she was to admit it, she couldn't do it on her own.

"... can you help me deal with the Beast, then?" Mordred reluctantly asked, swallowing her pride as she looked at the Enchanter.

"I... might have a way..." Timothy finally admitted. "But we can't use it."

"Please-" Mordred began to beg.

"The weapon is too destructive, Sir Mordred." Timothy held up a hand to interrupt her. "It would destroy the Beast, and also the medical supplies."

For the first time since she'd become a Knight of the Round Table, Mordred felt like her actual age.

Like a helpless five year old girl.

What kind of Knight was she?

What kind of Knight allowed a fellow Knight to die saving them, especially on a quest that had been solely hers to begin with?!

Her grip tightened around the hilt of her sword, and not for the first time she wished she had a proper weapon.

But even so, even if all she'd had was a wooden branch...

She was still a Knight of the Round Table.

She would not let Sir Bors pay for her decision.

"If... if I distract the Beast..." Mordred finally spoke up, as an idea came to mind. "Do you think you can safely retrieve the supplies?"

Timothy looked over the young and brash Knight, fully clad in steel plate armor as he was, with newfound respect.

Perhaps he had underestimated the kid...

He nodded, and Mordred breathed a sigh of relief, before announcing: "Then, on my signal. Three... two... one-"

Arcs of lightning suddenly materialized in the space above the small Beast, who cried out: "Fou?!"

Then, in a flash of silver light, a swordsman in an odd red armor suddenly appeared, before ignobly falling to the ground.

"Ugh..." Jaune groaned, stiffly forcing the semi-functioning power armor to move as he got up, cursing Samuel Hayden as he did so.

Bloody back-stabbing cyborgs...

And did he really have to shut down Jaune's Elite Guard armor, too?!

Before he could fully gather his bearings, however, a soft sound caught his attention.

"Fou?" A white and fluffy rabbit-like-creature vocalized, cocking its head quizzically.

Jaune's Aura-enhanced instincts immediately began screaming at him.

"FOU!" The rabbit suddenly screeched as it leapt at him, revealing far more sharp and oversized fangs than any rabbit should have ever had.

"Look out!" Mordred couldn't help but shout, ignoring the confusion of seeing a strange armored man appearing from nowhere in front of the Beast of Caerbannog as she charged forward.

And then, all of a sudden, a shield was in his hand, and the Beast bounced off of it even as Jaune was forced to take a step back from the sheer force, studying the killer rabbit (that was probably just a Grimm or demon in disguise) cautiously.

The killer rabbit hit the wall, and immediately bounced off of it, leaping back at Jaune.

This time, however, Jaune was ready, and he easily dodged the rabbit, before slicing at it.

Once again, however, the beast surprised him, and clambered on to his sword, before running down the length of his blade at him.

Instinctively, Jaune channeled his Aura into his blade.

"FOU!"

The rabbit was sent flying off of the blade, jerking and spasming from the lightning that had shocked it, paws bleeding from frostbite, and fur singed from the sudden burst of flames.

Before it could recover, a metal sword skewered it, and Mordred panted in relief, as she stood triumphantly over the fallen creature.

"... hah..." Mordred looked down at it for a moment, before triumphant relief overwhelmed her. Spitting on the Beast's corpse, she begun picking up the medical supplies even as she crowed: "HAH! Another foul Beast falls to the blade of Sir Mordred!"

Timothy couldn't help but sigh, and re-revise his assessment of the young Knight of the Round Table.

"So... that was a "foul Beast"?" Jaune raised an eyebrow even as he flicked his shield back into a sheath, and deactivated his sword. "Also, thanks for the help, Sir Mordred."

"If you truly wish to thank me, you can start by giving me a hand." Mordred bluntly told him. "My fellow Knight, Sir Bors, was injured by the creature earlier, and I need these supplies to save him."

Jaune turned to the barely-stabilized armored body lying on the floor, and his eyes widened.

Before Mordred could protest, he was already kneeling before the body, examining the wound.

And then, he started to glow.

And before Mordred's eyes, the grievous wound on Sir Bors's neck quickly sealed itself shut.

A few moments later, the only signs that he had been injured was the paleness of his face, and the blood staining his armor and tunic.

-LATER THAT DAY-

"Once again, I cannot possibly thank you enough." Sir Bors told the crimson-armored man. "Without your timely assistance, I dread to think what could have happened."

"I'm sure you guys had it all under control." Jaune encouraged them even as he stiffly supported Sir Bors's right, grateful that Aura protected him from any bruises that he would have incurred from forcing the barely-functioning suit of power armor to move.

"Right, of course we had it all under control!" Mordred nodded vigorously on Bors's left, not wanting to think about how close she'd come to costing another member of the Round Table his life. "But still, you didn't have to help us back to Camelot."

"Well, what else was I supposed to do?" Jaune raised an eyebrow. "He needs to see a doctor, and I couldn't just leave you there..."

"Hah!" Bors nodded in approval. "Some of the younger Knights could certainly stand to learn a thing or two from you! Don't you agree, Sir Mordred?"

"Huh? What's that supposed to mean, Bors?" Mordred felt thankful for her helmet concealing her whole face; without it, her wince would have been plain to see.

With her stunted social development, she honestly couldn't tell if she was being rebuked, insulted, or if he just wanted her opinion in general.

Bors, for his part, also winced, cursing the fact that the blood loss had made his head muddled.

Sir Mordred, despite his overwhelming strength, was infamous in Camelot for being brash, cocky, impulsive, short-tempered, and aggressively competitive.

While most of the other Knights of the Round Table would have seen his flippancy towards his situation as the relief born of continued survival that it was, it was more than likely that Sir Mordred would see his thoughtless words as either an insult or a serious rebuke.

And honestly, he didn't know which was worse.

While Sir Mordred did need to learn some restraint and moderation, Bors saw little need for the boy to become as serious as Lancelot or Tristan.

Hastily, he changed the subject, and asked the red-armored swordsman: "Anyway, where did you come from? And how did you get here?"

"Yeah, that's right!" Mordred took the bait, and turned to Jaune. "You suddenly appeared in a flash of silver light! And how did you do all that stuff with that sword and shield? And how did you heal Sir Bors with just a touch?"

"... it's... a long story." Jaune muttered, looking away, unsure of how to explain it.

Sure, based on what he could gather, this world was similar to Skyrim, in that people still mainly fought with swords and shields, and magic seemed to be a known quantity (though how widespread said magic was was beyond him).

(Apparently, a dragon had even threatened the land almost a decade ago, before the King had killed it. He had no intention of asking if the dragon was supposed to devour the world, or if the King had the soul of a dragon; that way lay madness.)

Regardless, even if they knew that magic existed, that didn't mean that they knew that different dimensions existed (or what the concept of a dimension was), and even he couldn't explain how he travelled dimensions.

What was he supposed to tell them?

"Oh, I died fighting a dragon and a fire witch, woke up in another world just like yours that was about about to be eaten by a dragon while vampires tried to put out the Sun, got bitten in half by said dragon, woke up in a post-apocalyptic world filled with technology beyond your wildest dreams, and then went to a different planet that was being invaded by demons from Hell before I get backstabbed by the cyborg who ran the place and sent here."

Even in his imagination it sounded ridiculous.

"Aw, come on!" Mordred pouted at the suit of red armor.

"Now, now, Sir Mordred..." Sir Bors tried to pacify Mordred.

"At least tell me where you got such a sword!" Mordred refused to relent. "There's no need to be shy about it!"

"Well... I... was told, that it was made from a dragon's bones." Jaune decided to throw him a bone; having grown up with seven sisters (and being friends with two Rubys), he knew when resistance was futile.

"... wait, really?" Mordred blinked under her helmet, before peering at him, looking for any signs that he was lying to her, or making fun of her.

"Didn't Sir Lancelot kill a dragon a few years ago?" Bors wondered out loud. "Perhaps this came from that same dragon..."

Jaune knew it definitely didn't, but also knew better than to dig himself into another hole, and instead chose to hum thoughtfully.

"That's right, Bors! Thanks!" Mordred enthusiastically clapped him on the back, causing Bors to wince and bite his tongue to prevent himself from grunting. "I'll go ask Lancelot if there's any more dragons to fight when we get back!"

Bors blanched from the thought of being dragged on yet another trip with Mordred, and began quietly making plans to be occupied for the next few months.

Fortunately for Bors, Mordred turned her attention back to Jaune, and resumed her attempts to badger him: "So how much did you pay for the sword?"

"It was a gift." Jaune didn't even want to think about how expensive his sword should have been, having been made of dragon bones by the best smith in Skyrim.

"What did you to get it?" Mordred pressed.

"... you know... I'm honestly not sure..." Jaune mumbled, looking away as her gaze intensified.

What had he actually done to get it? He'd killed a dragon with Yang, accidentally joined the Companions, and had been involved in the war with the vampires during that time...

... right, Eorlund had just been so grateful to Jaune and Yang for giving him the chance to work with dragon bone.

'Tch." Mordred clicked her tongue, not bothering to hide her displeasure. "Come on! I'm sure nobody's going to just give out a sword like that for no reason! What did you do?"

"Would you believe me if I said I killed a dragon and a few vampires?" Jaune tried.

To his surprise, instead of simply laughing it off, the fully-armored knight looked down thoughtfully, before conceding: "You did show some skill against the Killer Rabbit..."

"While we haven't heard of any such feats recently... the world is certainly a big place." Bors added. "Even records from the old Empire spoke of other kingdoms to the East; it's more than possible that you came from a place even further away than Sir Palamedes..."

"Hey, you should share more of your tales with us!" Mordred suggested brightly. "Maybe one of them will sound familiar to us!"

"Um... I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have heard of them..." Jaune looked away, scratching the bottom of his helmet with a gauntleted finger.

Fortunately, before Mordred could start digging again, the sound of hooves caught their attention, and Mordred clicked her tongue in annoyance as a group on horseback approached them over the horizon, noble in bearing and clad in polished metal armor.

Sir Bors immediately pushed himself off of Jaune and Mordred, and forced himself to stand straight and dignified, as Lancelot, Percival, and Gareth approached them.

"My fellow Knights." Bors greeted them as soon as they were within earshot. "May we help you?"

"Greetings, Sir Bors." Lancelot cordially nodded to him first, before turning to the rest. "Sir Mordred. And...?"

"Oh, I'm just Jaune." Jaune held up his hands and stepped back. "Nobody special."

"... then, Jaune." Lancelot greeted him respectfully as well, and as Gareth studied them next to him even as Percival moved to check on his apprentice knight.

After a moment of silence, Mordred spoke up: "So, what's wrong this time, Lancelot?"

"Sir Agravain asked us to come after you." Lancelot finally sighed.

"Br- Agravain did?" Mordred mentally cursed her brother. "Why?"

"Apparently, despite numerous warnings about the strength of the Beast of Caerbannog, you and Bors left to confront the monster." Lancelot fixed him with a stern look.

"And?" Mordred challenged testily. "Isn't it the duty of the Knights of the Round Table to serve the Kingdom?"

"Sir Mordred, don't you remember wat was discussed during the latest meeting?" Lancelot asked rhetorically.

"..." Mordred looked away shiftily, unwilling to admit that she'd been dozing off.

"Sir Lancelot..." Percival stepped in, not wanting Lancelot to go too far. Taking over, he gently explained: "Sir Mordred... the Saxons and Picts are on the move again, and there is word from beyond our shores that remnants of the old Empire are attempting to reclaim what was once lost. Our duty is to the Kingdom, yes... and right now, we can best serve the Kingdom by staying within the realm of Camelot, while the King is away touring the borders."

Mordred winced, thankful once again for her helmet. Of all the things he could have said...

"The Beast was known for its lethality, I will grant you that, but it was not known to venture from its lair." Lancelot pointed out with a frown, as his trained eyes studied the trio. Between Sir Mordred's chipped sword, the blood covering Sir Bors, and the numerous impressive scratches, cuts, and dents covering Jaune's armor, Lancelot found himself wondering if they had been through Hell itself, rather than facing a single beast.

Gareth put his thoughts into words: "Sir Mordred... just what kind of Beast did you face, to leave the three of you in such a state?"

Mordred, Bors, and Jaune exchanged a look, with the two Knights of the Round Table being unsure of how to explain that they'd been almost laid low by a bunny.

Finally, Mordred answered: "It was a swift and vicious creature, that ripped out Bors's throat before we could react."

Percival, Gareth, and Lancelot did a double take at that, looking back at the sheer amount of blood staining Bors's armor.

"Bors, are you alright?" Percival demanded, ready to grab his former apprentice knight if he showed any signs of being faint.

"Don't worry, Sir Percival." Bors quickly waved away his concern. "Our new friend over there managed to help us slay the Beast in the end, and even healed me with just a touch."

"Truly?" Lancelot couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, looking back at the red-armored figure, who looked far more like a warrior than a healer or a magus (based on his extensive experience).

"I'm sure they could have handled it by themselves." Jaune held up his hands, not liking the intensity of the gazes being levelled at him.

"Be that as it may..." Lancelot's sense of honor compelled him to speak out. A stranger, one that he'd never heard of, had assisted two Knights of the Round Table against a deadly foe that had almost laid them low. "Sir Mordred, Sir Bors, how do you plan on returning this boon?"

"Hey, there's no need for any of that." Jaune stepped forward before they could answer, even as he mentally reflected that Yang and the Courier would have absolutely chewed him out for that.

But at the same time, the situation was awkward enough as it was; all Jaune honestly needed, was information about the world he was now in, which he'd been getting.

He still had his pistol if he needed to go hunting, the Wasteland Survival Guide had his tips on how to purify water, and based on the terrain they'd passed by, shelter wasn't an issue either.

"I just happened to be in the area."

Literally.

He just happened to appear right above that Grimm-in-disguise.

"So you helped out two Knights of the Round Table... just because you happened to be in the area?" Lancelot raised an eyebrow.

"Do you not understand that significance of your actions?" Gareth pressed.

"Not really..." Jaune admitted. "Look, I'm not from around here; I don't even know who the Knights of the Round Table are. I just saw strangers in trouble, and well... as my mom always says, strangers are just friends you haven't met yet."

""...""

The gathered Knights of the Round Table shared incredulous looks.

Then, to his surprise, Percival laughed, and Gareth wiped a tear from her eye, moved by his words.

"What a beautiful saying." Lancelot looked Jaune over with newfound respect. "Say, Jaune... would you be interested in becoming a Knight?"

"... what?"

-TRAINING GROUNDS, CAMELOT, ONE JOURNEY LATER-

Jaune sighed, as he studied his surroundings, and carefully tested the mobility of his new armor (having taken his sword to it until he'd only been left with a breastplate, gauntlets, and boots).

Without the technologically-advanced inner workings beyond his comprehension it didn't enhance his strength or speed at all, but he had Aura for that, and even though it was pretty heavy it was still probably leagues ahead of any metal the people of this era could produce.

At least he had some protection other than his Aura, and at least he didn't have to worry about being stuck in an unpowered suit again.

Of course, none of that protected him from his biggest problems at that moment, and the knights patrolling the castle gave him sympathetic gazes even as they hurried off, eager to not get caught in the fallout.

Where had it all gone so wrong?

All that had happened was that he'd gotten sent into this dimension just as Mordred and Bors were fighting that damn rabbit, and he'd helped them out with it.

He hadn't exactly been expecting a grand reward, and he certainly hadn't been expecting to be forcibly inducted into what he surmised was the local equivalent of the Lyons' Pride for it!

Sure, it was an unofficial appointment, and he was just an apprentice, but he barely even knew left from right in this world! How in Oum's name was he expected to serve the King of all people?!

"Hey, why are you just spacing out over there?" Mordred barked, her harsh voice cutting through the pre-dawn silence. "Come on, let's go for a few laps!"

And that was the other thing.

When he'd been asked if he wanted to be a Knight, his initial response had been to, of course, vigorously refuse.

Unfortunately, for some reason, Mordred had jumped on board the idea as well.

And then, when Percival had suggested becoming his Knight-Mentor (since Lancelot still had a squire, and Bors needed some rest), Gareth had unwittingly and naively pointed out that Mordred was also a full-fledged Knight of the Round.

After that, for some reason, Mordred had decided that she would be the one to mentor him, and turn him into a Knight suitable to join the Round Table by the time the King returned.

Jaune just prayed he wasn't killed by what seemed to be this dimension's equivalent of Nora Valkyrie, Yang Xiao-Long, and Weiss Schnee.

Mordred, for her part, watched her newest (first) student blaze across the grounds with speeds that easily rivalled even hers, and quickly looked down at the parchment in her palm, discreetly reading the words on it.

Oh, she felt absolutely no regret about inducting (conscripting) him into the ranks of the Knights of Camelot (only the King had the authority to induct someone into the Round Table); Jaune seemed like a cool dude who'd helped her and Bors out of a tough spot, and she was more than enthusiastic about the prospect of no longer being the most junior Knight of the Round Table.

And, of course, him being around Camelot would give her more time to crack his defenses, and get him to tell her about his stories (and especially where she could get such a cool sword too).

But she definitely hadn't intended to become his mentor!

Even she knew she wasn't a first-rate knight, for God's sake!

But when her elder sister had pointed it out...

She'd seen the looks of alarm and horror on Lancelot's and Percival's face, as they'd contemplated the idea, and when Gareth too had winced as she'd realized what she'd suggested...

Well, she... may have lost her temper, at the perceived slight from her Elder-Sister-Who-Was-Still-A-Squire, and decided to prove herself.

Unfortunately, she knew absolutely nothing about being a squire, let alone turning a squire into a full-fledged knight (one of the drawbacks of having skipped being a squire herself).

And she definitely wasn't going to ask Lancelot.

And so she'd asked (pestered) Agravain to get some tips for her.

Although...

"... the hell's got court etiquette and music and dancing have to do with being a knight?" Mordred couldn't help but wonder out loud, as she finished reading the first sentence.

Was this what Lancelot wasted Gareth's time with?

Maybe she judged her elder sister too harshly...

At the same time, though, it was either this, or her own personal experience, and she definitely wasn't going to treat her new squire the same way her bitch of a mother had treated her.

She may have been many things, but she wasn't unnecessarily cruel or sadistic, and she did genuinely want to do a good job.

"Uh, Sir Mordred?" Jaune's voice snapped her back to reality.

"What is it, squire?" Mordred barked, looking up from her parchment.

"Um... how many laps was I supposed to do?" Jaune asked.

"Just a few dozen." Mordred shrugged, using herself as a baseline for comparison. "It's just a light warm up before we get to the fun stuff."

"Oh..." Jaune blinked, before continuing: "Then, I guess I'm done?"

"... how many have you done already?" Mordred's eyes narrowed, seeing the lack of sweat (or any signs of exertion) on his face.

"About a hundred." Jaune admitted, looking back at the groove he'd worn into the training grounds. It had been a long time since all he'd had to do was just... well... run (as opposed to running from danger, running to danger, or running between dangers), and he'd kind of spaced out and lost track of things until he'd heard people pointing and whispering.

"..." Mordred felt a cold sweat pouring down her back.

That was way too fast!

She'd barely even gotten past the first paragraph!

Oh well, no more time to think.

All she could do, was improvise.

"Give me five more, and then we'll see how well you fare in combat against an actual knight."

-THREE HOURS LATER-

"Hey, hey, did you hear?"

"Hear what?"

"Someone became Sir Mordred's squire."

"No way..."

"It's true! I saw the newcomer with my own eyes!"

"What did the poor soul ever do to deserve that?"

"I don't know, but- hey, what's going on over here?!"

""...!""

"Why aren't you lot patrolling the castle like you're supposed to?!"

"It's Sir Mordred, Captain!"

"He's been training his new squire since daybreak."

"All this time?!"

"Have you guys called for a healer yet? Why hasn't anyone intervened?!"

"Well, Captain, the thing is..."

Below the gathering of soldiers, meanwhile, in the middle of the training grounds, a panting Jaune took a moment to catch his breath, even as he cautiously watched Mordred, and mentally revised his assessment of him.

He may not have been as agile as Pyrrha, but he was certainly as fast as her, and he had an unholy combination of Nora's strength and Yang's ferocity to boot.

It was all Jaune could do to just withstand his numerous blows, and counter-attacking was completely out of the question (things might have been different if she'd been an actual enemy, but she wasn't, and this wasn't an actual fight. Pyrrha had drilled the important of the fundamentals into him, and he wasn't going to waste the chance to shake some of the rust off of his swordsmanship by using his gun or the sword's magic needlessly).

Mordred, for her part, was also breathing heavily underneath her helmet as she studied Jaune's form.

She'd spent the past few hours unsuccessfully trying to break through his defenses, and he hadn't even raised a word of complaint or tried to give up.

A feral grin graced her features, unseen by everyone, as her resolution to land a hit on him only grew stronger.

Her eyes narrowed, and her grip tightened around her sword, before she suddenly dashed forward again.

And just like the past few hundred times she'd tried it, a blade was suddenly in the path of hers, and a gust of wind erupted from the pair as their blades met.

And once again, just like the past few hundred times, her blade suddenly slid to the side, as Jaune deftly parried it away.

And once again, just like the past few hundred times, Mordred quickly stepped forward and spun, the motion changing the sword's direction from towards the ground back towards Jaune, eliciting another breeze and booming noise.

And then her sword shattered, unable to withstand the abuse of the duel any longer.

A moment of silence filled the air, as everybody present stared at the broken sword, before turning apprehensively to Sir Mordred, his expression unreadable behind his helmet.

Then Mordred laughed, and lowered the broken sword even as she derided it as a piece of shit, before holding a fist forward to Jaune.

"What, you never heard of a fist bump, squire?" Mordred asked, as Jaune looked at it quizzically. "Don't they have it where you're from."

"Uh, no." Jaune shook his head as he lightly punched her fist. "Just... didn't think you did it here, too."

"Well, we do." Mordred's voice was full of exhilaration. "Man, I haven't had a fight that good in a long time... if only that sword hadn't broken..."

"So I guess our training's done for the day?" Jaune breathed a sigh of relief, glad to see Mordred didn't seem angry.

"... training?" Mordred blinked, before looking away and clearing her throat. "... right! Training! Of course! I remembered that!"

"So, how did I do?" Jaune inquired, even as he casually flicked his shield back into a scabbard, and placed it back on his hip.

"Hmmm..." Mordred hummed thoughtfully, desperately racking her brains for advice to give. "Well... you need more aggression!"

"Aggression?" Jaune couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

"Yup." Mordred nodded confidently, before grabbing a stick. "You know... like... haah! And..."

Jaune's eyebrow only rose higher as he watched him swing his stick around while shouting ferociously, and quietly mused that, enthusiastic as Mordred was, Pyrrha was still probably the best trainer he'd ever had.

Then again, though, he didn't exactly have the best sample size to compare it to.

For a moment, a part of Jaune wondered just what he was doing.

Then he reminded himself that, as far as he knew, he was stuck here.

There was nothing else for him to do...

"I want to be the hero!"

Except live by the principles he'd died by.

"... you can still be a hero, you know. Even if it's Skyrim and not Remnant, the people still need help."

He was in another world with no way back, and had been given the opportunity to help out an organization dedicated to helping the people of the Kingdom, and was even being given training by a full-fledged member of it.

"Then let me help you!"

What else could he do?

The same thing he'd done in Skyrim, the Capital Wasteland, the Mojave, and Hell.

Mordred nodded approvingly, as she saw Jaune roar with enough force to make the ground tremble as he swung his sword, and above them bets were quietly settled, money changed hands, and the newest squire won the respect of the Knights of Camelot.

-INSERT CHAPTER BREAK HERE-

"Heya, Agravain!"

"... Sir Mordred." Agravain nodded to the sudden intruder, after he'd taken a second to calm his heart and make sure nobody was watching them.

"Come on, Agravain!" Mordred whined, pouting under her helmet. "Is there a need to be that cold?!"

"What do you want, Mordred?" Agravain sighed, knowing his little sister well enough to know that she was angling for something.

"What, can't I see my brother without a reason?" Mordred asked.

"Do you ever?" Agravain pointed out drily.

"... anyway..." Mordred decided to get to the point, and pulled out the parchment he'd given her. "I've got a few questions about the tips you gave me..."

"Oh?" Agravain raised an eyebrow. He'd written them down based on both his own experience and advice from Lancelot, Gawain, Gaheris, Percival, and Gareth. Even a meathead like Mordred should have been able to raise a first-rate squire from scratch with his notes. "What's the problem?"

"Why do I need to teach stuff like etiquette and dancing and music?" Mordred demanded, pointing to the relevant lines.

"... because as a Knight of Camelot he may be expected to represent the King and the Kingdom to the public?" Agravain answered easily.

"Really?" Mordred blinked. "Wait, how come I never learnt any of that, then?!"

Agravain's eye twitched, and for the umpteenth time he cursed his bitch of a mother for raising a weapon instead of a proper knight.

Then he blinked as well, and asked: "Wait, what have you been teaching your newest squire all this time, then?"

"How to fight!" Mordred declared proudly, puffing up her chest. "He's getting really good at it, too! At this rate, he might be able to actually land a hit on me soon!"

"..."

"..."

"Is... is that all?" Agravain inquired apprehensively.

"It's not like I know anything about etiquette or that useless noble crap..." Mordred looked away. "Besides, I'm sure he won't need it."

Agravain suddenly felt the urge to bury his face into his hands and weep.

Meanwhile, Jaune was making full use of Mordred's absence to inspect his weapons, and had just begun disassembling his pistol when he heard footsteps behind him.

"Hail, Squire Jaune." Lancelot nodded to him, even as Gareth waved to him next to her mentor.

"Ah, Sir Lancelot, Sir Gareth." Jaune got up, before Lancelot held up a hand to stop him.

"Come now, Jaune, we're both squires." Gareth pouted at him. "There's no need to call me "Sir"!"

"Please, Squire Jaune, there's no need to get up on my account." Lancelot looked him over. "I merely wished to ask how your training has been progressing."

"Um... well... I guess it's going good?" Jaune shrugged, as he sat back down, and began putting his gun back together. "I mean, I still can't get past Sir Mordred's attacks to land a blow yet, but I can stop him from hitting me, so..."

"That is certainly most impressive, Jaune!" Gareth earnestly praised him. "Mordred is known to be one of the strongest of the knights in the castle..."

Lancelot nodded approvingly, before continuing: "And... is that all he has been teaching you?"

"... was there supposed to be anything else?" Jaune blinked.

""..."" Gareth and Lancelot shared a look.

"Squire Jaune... in your opinion, what is a knight?" Lancelot began.

"Um... I guess you guys are supposed to help the people and serve the King?" Jaune answered, feeling like he was back in Beacon.

"That is correct." Lancelot nodded, before pressing on. "And how do you suppose we achieve that goal?"

Jaune paused for a second, as he thought about it, not wanting to get Mordred in trouble.

"It... would depend on the situation." Jaune finally answered.

Lancelot's eyebrow rose in approving surprise, and he motioned for Jaune to continue.

"Sometimes, we don't have a choice but to fight. Sometimes, monsters, bandits, and raiders refuse to listen, to see reason." Jaune hummed thoughtfully, remembering his time in Skyrim and the Wasteland (he didn't bother with Hell; he was more likely to reason with Grimm than demons). "But sometimes... if a compromise can be reached... if both parties are willing to negotiate..."

Sure, perhaps he was too soft, but he'd have never made friends with Serana if he'd listened to Yang (and while the Volkihar wouldn't have been able to fulfil their prophecy then, they would have still been a threat to the people), to say nothing of the Antlerites, the Bright Brotherhood, and the Brotherhood of Steel.

"... I must admit my surprise." Lancelot murmured. "Did Mordred teach you that?"

"No... I've just seen some things..." Jaune sheepishly admitted.

"Then, please teach Mordred that." Lancelot nodded to him, satisfied by their conversation, and Gareth nodded in agreement. "I know Sir Mordred often means well... but he can be impetuous at times. He can be a great knight, should he learn temperance."

Jaune simply watched as the pair walked away, and wondered what that had all been about.

With the way Mordred had talked about Lancelot, he'd surmised that the pair had held a mutual dislike, but after hearing Lancelot's words he found himself wondering if Mordred had just misunderstood Lancelot's intentions.

Before he could ponder it any further, however, his Aura suddenly sent a chill running up his spine, and he instinctively turned to see Mordred glaring at him from behind a corner, before motioning for him to come closer.

Mordred, for her part, was uncharacteristically quiet as her squire approached her, with her mind too preoccupied thinking about everything Agravain had told her.

Her brother had been his usual stern self, as he'd explained exactly why each and every item he'd noted down was so important for a prospective knight to learn, and by the time he'd finally let her escape the lecture a part of her was wondering whether she was actually doing a good job teaching her squire.

Sure, he was getting better at fighting, and she was more fired up now than she had been since she'd been accepted into the Round Table, but that didn't mean he was going to be a good knight by the time the King returned.

And then she'd seen him talking casually to Lancelot and Gareth, and overheard their conversation with her inhuman senses, and she'd felt a bitter taste spread through her mouth.

"Is something wrong, Sir Mordred?" Jaune asked, once he'd reached his newest mentor.

"Hey..." Mordred's voice was quiet and shaky. "Am I a good teacher?"

"... huh?" Jaune blinked.

"Answer the question, damn it." Mordred growled.

"I... I guess so?" Jaune finally replied. "I mean, you've certainly helped me get stronger..."

Immediately, Jaune knew he'd said the wrong thing.

"Tch." Mordred clicked her tongue and looked away. "I guess brother was right..."

"Brother?" Jaune echoed bluntly. "Wha-"

"Listen up, squire." Mordred snapped. "From now on... you don't have to be my squire any longer."

"..." Jaune blinked again, before he finally processed what Mordred had said. "Wait, wha-"

"I'm doing you a damn favor, alright?! Lancelot already considers you more like a knight than me..."

And if Lancelot had used that fact to insult her, she'd have simply used it to confirm that Lancelot was too straight-laced for her to ever get along with.

But instead... the fact that Lancelot actually thought she did have potential... that she could be a great knight... that she'd been wrong about him and Gareth...

All she could think, when she'd heard that, was that she wasn't one yet.

And that meant she wasn't properly serving the King she admired the most yet.

"Hey, where's all this coming from?" Jaune interrupted, confused.

"... it doesn't matter." Mordred shook her head in self-loathing, as she turned to walk away. "From now on, you can go and find Percival or Lancelot for your training; they'll do a much better job than this third-rate knight..."

To her surprise, however, Jaune placed a hand on her shoulder, firmly keeping her in place as he said: "No, no, no. Where's all this suddenly coming from?"

"Let go of me, squire." Mordred growled, placing a hand on the hilt of her sword warningly.

"Then tell me what's wrong." Jaune pressed, unwilling to simply abandon somebody he considered a friend.

"Final warning." Mordred drew her sword.

Jaune didn't let go.

Fifteen minutes later, as the panting pair sat next to each other, slumped against the cracked and chipped wall, Jaune casually asked: "Are you finally willing to talk, Sir Mordred?"

"Tch." Mordred looked away. "You've certainly grown cocky, squire."

"I had a good teacher." Jaune smirked at her, before his face became serious: "Look... I know I'm just a squire, and you're a full knight... but... well... something's clearly bothering you, and I'd like to think we're friends, so..."

"Friends, huh..." Mordred murmured thoughtfully, looking up at her squire. Even she knew she didn't exactly have many (any) friends in Camelot.

Were they friends?

...

What even was a friend, anyway?

"... I was asking Agravain for some help on training you." Mordred finally admitted. "Turns out, there's more to being a Knight than just teaching you how to fight."

Jaune didn't know how to answer that, so he elected to simply hum noncommittally, and wait for her to continue.

"Even sis- I mean, Gareth, who's still a squire, could teach you more about etiquette and diplomacy than me..." Mordred laughed self-deprecatingly, before looking down and sighing. "This was all a big mistake... what on earth was I ever thinking..."

Jaune's ears perked up at the familiar words, the familiar tone of voice, and couldn't help but ask: "Why did you ever take me as your squire?"

To his displeasure, Mordred gave another harsh bark of laughter: "What do you think? I just... I just wanted to prove I could do it... that I was a proper knight too..."

Jaune sucked in a breath through gritted teeth, as the pieces fell into place.

"Sir Mordred... I never told you where I came from, did I?" Jaune asked rhetorically.

"Despite me asking you everyday, no." Mordred rolled her eyes, wondering why he'd suddenly brought it up.

If it was sympathy she was going to be pissed.

"Where I come from, there's an... order, of warriors, called Huntsmen." Jaune began. "Their role is to fight monsters, save people, and be heroes. Sound similar?"

"... yeah, it kind of does." Mordred conceded, still not seeing the point.

"To become a Huntsman, most people start training from their childhoods." Jaune sighed. "I always wanted to be one..."

"So, what, you're a better knight than me because you have more experience?" Mordred rolled her eyes in irritation.

Everyone on the Round Table had more experience than her; she was only five, after all.

"Thing is..." Jaune looked away. "I was never allowed to get any training."

Mordred's helmet snapped back towards him immediately.

"My parents never wanted me to become a Huntsman." Jaune explained. "I have more experience plowing a field than swinging a sword. In fact, I had to basically trick my way into getting Huntsman training last year, and I was the worst trainee in the entire order."

Jaune could feel the gaze boring into him intensify, and he sighed.

"Look, what I'm trying to get at is... your desire to prove yourself... to show everyone you can do it... I completely understand that." Jaune's voice was full of empathy. "So..."

"Then, let me help you!"

"That's why I'm not letting you get away from being my mentor, Sir Mordred." Jaune gently smiled at Mordred.

If not for her helmet, a bird might have flown into her mouth.

Eventually, though, she found her voice, and incredulously demanded: "Are you insane? I'm giving you the chance to get a proper mentor!"

"And I'm telling you, I'm not taking it." Jaune retorted.

"Why?!" Mordred asked.

"Like I said... you're my friend." Jaune shrugged. "To me, that's more than enough of a reason."

There was that word again, "friend".

Was this what friends were?

Crazy, irrational idiots who never gave up?

She still didn't know...

... but a part of her wanted to find out.

A small, tiny, miniscule, completely insignificant part, that of course played absolutely no part in her final response.

"... fine, do what you want." Mordred finally relented with a huff. "But don't blame me if anything goes wrong... squire."

-INSERT CHAPTER BREAK HERE-

Throngs of cheering people crowded both sides of the road around them, as they triumphantly marched in formation towards the castle.

The person at the head of the formation couldn't help but let the beginnings of a soft smile creep through the cracks, as she watched the smiles on their faces... the only worthwhile reward she would ever receive for her years of hardship... before she ruthlessly crushed it back down under her mask of regal nobility.

The perfect King had to always be kingly, after all.

Even so, though, even despite the warm reception she and her knights were receiving, she never once let her guard drop, until they were all back within the walls of Camelot.

"My King." Lancelot knelt before her, along with most of the other Knights. "We are pleased by your safe return."

"Thank you for your hard work, my Knights." Artoria nodded to the welcoming party that had come to greet her, and as a page boy took the reins of Llamrei from her, and led her horse to the stables, she asked: "How has the realm fared? Is there any pressing news?"

"There is nothing worth mentioning regarding the affairs of state, Your Highness." Sir Agravain went first.

Sir Lancelot, for his part, briefly considered telling King Arthur about the deed Sir Bors and Sir Mordred had achieved, as well as the latest addition to their ranks, but one look at the King's face convinced him to put it aside for the time being.

Even if he hadn't been working with him long enough to notice the barest signs of stress and fatigue on his liege's unaging features, he'd heard about how some of the border clashes had went.

"Nothing that cannot be discussed during dinner, my King." Lancelot bowed his head.

"Then, once more, you have my gratitude for managing Camelot in my absence." Artoria nodded at them once more, hiding her weary features.

Honestly, she'd have much rather just skipped the dinner entirely, and instead retired for the evening to be with her Queen (there may have been no romantic feelings between them, but Artoria considered Guinevere a close confidant and good friend, and more importantly she knew her secret. At the very least, she didn't have to be King Arthur around her), but the men deserved their celebration.

She would not disappoint the efforts they'd put in for her, by not being present at the feast celebrating their victories.

Fortunately, Avalon was able to sustain her physically, as she removed her armor, and fought down the urge to simply melt away in the bath of scented hot water the servants had drawn for her, and soon enough she was in her more-formal furs, raising a toast to the heroes of the hour, signaling the start of the feast.

As cheers filled the air, and the room broke into boisterous brags and swapped stories, Artoria examined the room with approval, before sitting down and turning to the knight on her left: "Now, Sir Lancelot, you said you had some news for me?"

"Yes, my King." Lancelot nodded as he began to delicately carve up the turkey leg Gareth brought for him. "Firstly, you may be pleased to know that the Beast of Caerbannog has been slain."

"Truly?" Artoria raised an eyebrow. "I thought Merlin said we would need something akin to St. Antioch's Blessed Boon to slay the creature. Did you and Sir Gareth accomplish this task?"

"No, my King." Lancelot shook his head. "The deed was accomplished by Sir Bors and Sir Mordred, along with assistance from a third party."

"Sir Mordred and Sir Bors?" Artoria blinked. While the pair were promising knights, she doubted they could have handled the Beast on their own. "How? And who was this third party?"

"I know not of how it was accomplished, except that Sir Bors was grievously wounded during the attempt." Lancelot spoke truthfully.

"And how is he now?" Artoria inquired immediately.

"He bears no reminder of the battle, save perhaps an odd caution around woodland creatures. Apparently, the third party was instrumental in providing timely assistance, as well as dispatching the beast."

"I see..." Artoria allowed herself to relax by a fraction, and let loose the slightest sigh of relief. "And how was this third party rewarded for his deeds?"

"That... is the second matter that I wished to discuss with you, my King." Lancelot fought down the urge to look away, though next to him Gareth attempted to bury herself in her food, to prevent herself from interrupting their conversation with unbecoming snickers. "The third party, Jaune of Arc, hails from a land even further away than Sir Palamedes's, and knew nothing of Camelot and the Round Table, let alone the magnitude of his actions.

"Instead, when asked why he did it, he merely remarked that, and I am repeating this verbatim, "strangers are just friends you haven't met yet". Between his words and his deeds, Percival and I felt like it would be prudent, to invite him to Camelot for you to evaluate." Lancelot concluded, wiping his mouth delicately with a handkerchief pre-emptively.

"I see..." Artoria nodded in approval. "He certainly sounds like a fine addition to our ranks. The pair of you deserve a commendation for your initiative. May I know where he is now?"

Lancelot took a moment to observe his liege's face, as King Arthur scanned the hall, looking for any unfamiliar faces, and mentally apologized to him for what he was about to say.

"He is currently serving as Sir Mordred's squire, my King."

"..."

Gareth redoubled her efforts to stuff her cheeks with food, to prevent herself from bursting with laughter at the look of horror on King Arthur's face.

"Cousin, are you alright?" Gawain asked from Artoria's other side, the sudden alarmed look on her face enough to catch his attention.

"... I'm sorry, Sir Lancelot, I fear I must have misheard you." Artoria finally choked out, even as her gaze fell upon the form of Sir Mordred's armor, distinctive even among the crowd (it was an odd quirk of Sir Mordred's, that nobody had ever seen him without his helmet or armor, but none bothered challenging it).

"I'm afraid not, my King." Lancelot apologized. "The man in the red breastplate next to him is Squire Jaune, the latest addition to our ranks."

"..." Artoria's eyes confirmed his report, as she spotted an unfamiliar blonde man with striking blue eyes next to Mordred, talking animatedly with the often-solitary knight. "Sir Lancelot... I believe I asked how he was rewarded, not punished."

Gareth quickly excused herself just before her composure could began to crack, and Gawain cocked his head in confusion as Lancelot quickly defended the pair: "My King... as unbelievable as it may seem, their unusual relationship is benefitting both of them. Take a closer look, Your Highness; do you notice anything particular about Sir Mordred?"

Artoria obliged, and subtly focused her attention on the pair of them, along with Gawain and Lancelot.

Unlike when she'd had to use her observation skills on nobles and potential allies and enemies during negotiations, however, she couldn't help but feel like she was being intrusive and voyeuristic, as she watched a laughing Mordred clap Sir Bors's back as the knights around him cheered and raised their flagons, before handing a piece of boar over to his new squire, who visibly sighed and humored him.

"... did Sir Mordred just share his food?" Gawain asked incredulously, being the first to find his voice.

"Is food all on your mind, Sir Gawain?" Lancelot sighed in exasperation, eliciting a giggle from Gareth, before prompting: "Do you see it, my King?"

"I... fear I do not, Sir Lancelot." Artoria shook her head. "They are simply acting like the other knights at the feast, are they not?"

"Exactly!" Lancelot smiled triumphantly. "Even Sir Agravain was moved to tears, when he first saw it."

Artoria's eyes widened, as she finally recalled how things had been with Sir Mordred, before she'd left.

From the beginning, Sir Mordred was an enigma to the realm of Camelot, having suddenly shown up one day with a letter of introduction from Morgan.

That alone would have been more than enough to make her wary of Sir Mordred, but despite that questionable backing, no mention of any recorded feats, and a suspicious aversion to discussing his parentage, Sir Agravain had insisted that Sir Mordred be allowed to give a demonstration of his prowess.

His superb prowess, and blunt but unyielding mental chivalry, had been enough to impress most of the Knights of the Round, and had that been all Artoria personally felt that most of the Knights would have eventually been able to see beyond Sir Mordred's troublingly non-existent past.

Unfortunately, for all his prowess, and for all his convictions... Sir Mordred was, to put it bluntly, horribly lacking in social skills.

He was diligent and unwavering, but he could also be brash, impetuous, impulsive, and competitive, and after the fifth time he'd sent a fellow knight to the healer over some (possibly-imaginary) minor slight, most of the occupants of the castle were content with giving the newest member of the Round Table a wide berth (not that Sir Mordred ever seemed to notice).

But now?

...

Truly, Camelot was the land of miracles.

(Unbeknownst to them, the change in reception had a far more mundane cause than direct divine intervention. The men were simply both intimidated by both her attitude and reputation; a simple squire casually interacting with the Brash Knight of the Round and surviving helped soften the latter, while her conscious efforts to be a better mentor to her squire and friend subdued the former.)

"Jaune of Arc truly is amazing, isn't he?" Gareth spoke up as she returned, with a new platter of food. "I witnessed a training spar between the two of them once; if Sir Mordred can be described as a relentless storm, then Jaune of Arc would be an immovable mountain."

"Oh?" Gawain's voice was dangerously low as he swiped food from the platter before Gareth could give them to Lancelot. "Does my littlest sister have something she wishes to share with me?"

"Gawain!" Gareth's face flushed furiously.

"Come to think of it..." Lancelot unwittingly dug his squire's grave deeper. "Aren't the two of you working together on Ira Lupus, Gareth?"

Artoria felt a pang of envy stab her heart, as she watched Gareth, Gawain, and Lancelot light-heartedly interacting, along with everyone else in the room.

As much as she tried, she could never fully kill the last bit of humanity within her... the last bit of the little girl she'd been before she'd drawn Caliburn.

For a moment, a flight of fancy seized hold of her, and she wondered just what things would be like, if she could be both a King and a woman.

The moment passed, and she buried it back down with the ease of nearly two decades of practice.

Her people had needed their King.

Her wishes, her dreams, her life, could never compare to the lives of her people, her Kingdom, of England itself.

In the end, pretending to be a man had simply been the fastest way to build support for her rule.

And looking around, at the smiling, laughing, and cheering knights that swore their loyalties to her, she once again affirmed her oath to her people, and considered her sacrifice worthwhile.

"How is Ira Lupus coming along, Sir Gareth?" Artoria asked gently, coming to the poor stuttering girl's rescue. "You were interested in making a... what did you call it again?"

"A gun-lance, Your Majesty!" Gareth seized the lifeline with the desperation of a drowning man.

"Its current design was already impressive enough." Lancelot observed. "But with the new modifications the two squires were working on... while I may not enjoy long-range combat, I cannot deny that the ability to focus the blast of magical energy into a point would certainly be effective..."

Unfortunately, further discussion of Ira Lupus, and the feast in general, were put to a sudden halt as Sir Tristan suddenly slammed his flagon against his table.

-INSERT CHAPTER BREAK HERE-

It was in a daze that Artoria aimlessly wandered the moonlit halls of Camelot, unable to take her mind off of what had happened during the feast earlier, and especially what it had resulted in.

Oh, she had known that, like many of her Knights, Sir Tristan had grievances with her actions.

After all, it was precisely that compassion, that nobility, that sense of justice, desire to help others, that chivalric spirit, that she'd selected them for.

And even among the Round Table, Sir Tristan was renowned for being the most compassionate.

But that same compassion was a double-edged sword.

War demanded sacrifice.

Artoria knew many of her knights could not accept that; they were strong beyond compare and stubborn to a fault, as befitted heroes of the realm.

And that was why she forced herself to accept it.

As their King, as their liege, it was her duty to bear their sins without complaint.

She would do what was necessary for her people, for her Kingdom, and for her Knights.

But she also knew how short of a step it could be, from that to being a cold-hearted tyrant.

In fact, such a tyranny would be all the more oppressive than even the barbaric Saxons; at least the Saxons would never delude themselves into thinking that they were oppressing their enemies for their own good.

That was exactly why she had so valued Tristan's company; his humanity (the archer even cried for those he shot down) helped preserve hers, and she could rest assured that she would never be allowed to fall to such depravity.

Unfortunately, the grievances he had publicly aired were not of that sort.

In the end, Sir Tristan, the Knight of Lamentation, who despaired over friend and foe alike, had simply reached his limits, unable to follow a King who could order thousanda to their death without batting an eye.

The situation had only escalated as she'd forced herself to bear his complaints with a stoic silence (it was her duty, after all, to bear it all for them), allowing him to continue uninterrupted; he had only been incensed further, as he saw the emotionless King fail to react to all the venom he was spitting at her, proof of her inability to feel.

In the end, he'd stormed out of the feast, and departed from her services, with a single sorrowful mutter.

"The King does not understand the hearts of men."

Even now, she couldn't stop thinking about those words.

Could it really be, that her subjects didn't believe she understood them?

The looks on the faces of her knights had answered that question

That hadn't been what had hurt the most, though.

It had been what she'd overheard Sir Agravain tell Sir Gawain and Sir Lancelot, when they had expressed concern over what had happened.

"I ask you not to seek the same values as ours from one possessing magic like the gods."

Even the people who supported her, didn't think she still had a human heart.

What was she supposed to do?

What could she do?

For the first time in a long while, her Instincts failed her.

Merlin was still only God-Knows-Where.

Sir Kay was visiting Sir Ector.

And Queen Guinevere...

She had actually been on her way back to her chambers, to ask her closest confidant for advice, but as she'd turned the corner she'd caught sight of a distracted Lancelot entering her wife's chambers, a look of desperate helplessness on his face.

Immediately, she'd decided to go for an impromptu moonlight stroll, guessing that Lancelot was feeling conflicted about the disastrous feast, and would thusly not want to hear her voice at that moment.

(As for the potential scandalous nature of an unwed man visiting the bedchambers of a married woman, Artoria paid it little heed. Guinevere was a good friend, and Sir Lancelot was a peerless knight of renown, whose name was sung throughout the land for his virtues. Artoria would never insult the First of her Knights by entertaining such foolish notions.)

So lost was she in her thoughts, that she almost turned the corner before she heard a familiar voice throwing a tantrum: "Seriously... what was up with that good-for-nothing archer?! Going on and on about how the King is too perfect... tch, just saying it out loud makes my blood boil. He's lucky he left when he did! If he hadn't, I'd have thrown him out myself!"

Jaune, for his part, simply looked down at his sword, and wondered why there was something about those green orbs that were just bugging him.

Mordred frowned at him under her helmet, and gently nudged him in the side with her elbow to get his attention as she asked: "... hey, squire."

"Hmmm?" Jaune looked up from his sword, to see Mordred staring intently at him.

"... I really don't understand people sometimes." Mordred admitted reluctantly with a sigh. "Like, seriously, what kind of a complaint is that? If the King is perfect, then why do they have any complaints about him?"

Jaune hummed thoughtfully as he chewed it over, before he finally remembered where he'd seen eyes like those before.

"Sir Mordred..." Jaune began, looking away from the figure slumped against the wall next to him in favor of the night sky. "Do you think humans are perfect?"

"Huh?" Mordred blinked, caught off-guard by his sudden question. "What kind of a question is that? Of course they aren't!"

"And do you think King Arthur is human?" Jaune continued, as his gaze fell upon the moon, and remembered its broken counter-part.

"Of course he is!" Mordred nodded vigorously.

"Then why do you think King Arthur is perfect?" Jaune retorted.

"But... that's..." Mordred blinked, as she realized just what she'd said. For a moment, she was tempted to roar at him, chastise him for making her insults the King's good name.

But they were friends, and she had asked for his candid opinion.

What kind of a mentor would she be, if she rebuked him for honestly answering a question that she'd asked?

Instead, vigorously racking her brains, she attempted to defend the person she admired the most: "I mean... look at everything he's accomplished! Look at how much his people adore him! Hell, look at how he was able to maintain his composure, even when Tristan was insulting him so harshly!"

"Maintain his composure..." Jaune quietly repeated, shaking his head in sympathy. "Sir Mordred... didn't you see his eyes?"

"King Arthur's eyes?" Mordred blinked again.

"He was hurt and heartbroken, Sir Mordred." Jaune explained, closing his eyes as he remembered the other time he'd seen eyes like those. "The accusations that he didn't understand the hearts of his subjects..."

"When you're placed on a pedestal like that for so long, you become separated from the people that put you there in the first place."

"What do you mean, squire?" Mordred's voice was low and serious.

"Sir Mordred... isn't the King being forced to bear too much of a burden?" Jaune asked quietly. "The King is human, and humans aren't perfect... and yet, because the people expect him to be perfect, he's forced to live up to their unrealistic expectations."

"Everyone assumes I'm too good for them - that I'm on a level that they simply can't attain."

"And by living up to them... by being the perfect King his subjects force him to be... people begin to believe the King has lost touch with them. After all, people can't understand perfection, and perfection can't understand people, because people aren't perfect."

"It's become impossible to form any sort of meaningful relationship with people"

"It's not that the King doesn't understand the hearts of his people, Sir Mordred; it is that the people can't understand the heart of their King." Jaune concluded, belatedly realizing that his fist was clenched tightly. "I just... I just feel sorry for the King."

A tense silence followed, as Mordred digested his words.

A part of her wanted to immediately deny it, point out that the King wasn't bearing such a heavy burden because of their expectations, since the King was perfect.

Another part of her quietly pointed out that that was exactly what Jaune had warned her about.

"... do you really believe this, squire?" Mordred finally asked.

"... I could just be mistaken, of course." Jaune conceded, realizing he'd more than overstepped his bounds.

He didn't even know King Arthur, after all; he could have just been projecting Pyrrha's green eyes onto the King's, he had no experience with Kings (Remnant's Kingdoms had no Kings, after all, and Skyrim had been having a civil war after the previous High King had been killed), and he barely knew this world.

For all he knew, this world had a special magic that allowed a King to be inhuman, or maybe the King really wasn't fully human.

"After all... you know I'm not from around here, and this was the first time I've seen King Arthur." Jaune pointed out.

"... right... that's true..." Mordred nodded dispiritedly, before asking: "But... what if you're not? Squire... even if the King isn't perfect... I will always admire the King of Knights. How could I help lessen his burden?"

"I..." Jaune paused, unsure of how to answer.

"You treated me like anyone else."

"Someone who just saw me for me."

He doubted Pyrrha's words would apply here; Arthur was a King, after all, and Mordred was one of his Knights.

Even if Mordred didn't admire the King, he doubted they could ever have a relationship like the one he and Pyrrha had.

Instead, he simply looked away, ignoring Mordred's expectant gaze as he murmured: "I guess... maybe you should go and actually talk to the King about this in private? See what he has to say?"

"... that sounds like a good idea, squire!" Mordred cheerfully clapped his back, spirits buoyed by the prospect of actually being able to do something. "We'll go seem him first thing in the morning!"

Jaune sighed, but his smile was full of fond exasperation as Mordred jumped up, and began dragging him off for some last-minute training.

Meanwhile, around the corner, out of view of the knight and squire, a very human heart furiously raced, as its owner pondered the words she'd just heard.

Postscript: And so begins King Artoria's interest in Jaune Arc, the mysterious Squire of Red.

What happens next? How will it end?

Like I said, someone should go and develop that story.

And before anybody asks, no, this doesn't count. I'm not satisfied by this one at all; the only reason it's not bare-bones, is because I only just fleshed it out into a semi-coherent scenario.

As for why I didn't do more... a) I think it's already been established by how much I flailed about in the past arc that I'm really not a FATE writer (as much as I enjoy the setting, I don't really have an interest in the mechanics, mainly because I really don't have the time to do a proper deep dive, and also the timeline is confusing as hell), b) how long do you want this chapter to be, and c) is the Final Chapter really the time to introduce (butcher) a brand new character? There's no way I can do Mordred justice in just a few thousand words.

On a side note, this What-If Scenario is the reason why this chapter took so long to come out.

Without it, I could have published Chapter 100 before November 2021 ended.

But... well... I've already gone all out; why bother showing restraint now?

SCENARIO: UNLIMITED BRO WORKS

POINT OF DEVIATION: CHAPTER 93 94

Author's Notes: This "What-If Scenario" is basically "What If Jaune Arc Was A Master In The Fifth Holy Grail War".

... okay, I know I said I wasn't a FATE writer, but this is the last one, I swear.

Anyway, this short story only came around because I started looking into Fate: Zero for research, and came across a certain character.

With that said, I'm really not going to go through all the trouble of writing another goddamn Grail War all over again.

Instead, I'll just give a brief overview, before jumping straight into two scenes in particular.

Firstly, in this Grail War, Cu Chulainn is the Archer (yes, he actually qualifies for this class), Artoria is the Lancer, and Jaune is definitely not a Servant. Instead, the Holy Grail just decides to fuck with him by making him a Master of the Rider of the War.

And who is it? Well, read on, and find out.

Berserker unleashed a deep growl, even as Velvet continued her desperate defense, and Artoria summoned a lion to help them hold him off.

"Tch!" Rin clicked her tongue, and raised her hand in Illya's direction even as a hazy black orb of magical energy gathered around her forefinger. "Stay behind me, Emiya!"

In response, Illya casually flicked her hair, and four wiry bird-like constructs flew forth, each charging up magical energy of their own.

Before either of the two mages could act, however, lightning suddenly rained down on Berserker, who roared as it pierced through his steel-like skin.

As the giant was forced to his knees from the strength of the attack, the sounds of thunder crashed and boomed across the sky, and the air seemed to tremble and quake.

And then, from above, a deep voice roared: "AAAALaLaLaLaLaie!"

Everyone immediately turned to the sky, just in time to see...

"A chariot?!" Illya couldn't help but exclaim in shock.

Artoria found herself suddenly filled with an extreme sense of foreboding and deja vu, and as a large antique war chariot, pulled by two massive bulls, suddenly smashed into Berserker and trampled him underfoot, Artoria couldn't help but groan: "Oh no, not again..."

As silence filled the air in the wake of the chariot's unexpected arrival, its Rider, a massive redhaired man in a cloak, spread his arms forward, and loudly declared: "Both of you, sheath your weapons! You are in the presence of a King!"

Taking a look around, and seeing that his audience were simply too captivated to comply with his orders, he magnanimously forgave them, and announced: "My name is Iskandar, the King of Conquerors, and I am the Rider-class Servant of this Grail War!"

""...""

Before anyone could react, however, a second figure stumbled out of the chariot, and promptly proceeded to throw up on the floor.

"Oum damn it, I hate my motion sickness..." Jaune groaned, as he finally cleared out the contents of his stomach and pulled himself to his feet.

"Come now, Master, you already have a sturdy body!" Iskandar boomed with a laugh as he slapped Jaune's back, eliciting a flash of light as his Aura reflected the blow. "You just need a bit more experience and you'll get used to it!"

"I think I'll pass!" Jaune immediately protested, dusting himself off. "Anyway, can you now tell me what's going on?! I appreciate that you saved me from that Archer guy, but why was he even attacking me?! And why did you suddenly drag me away... to..."

Jaune's voice trailed off, as he finally noticed all of the people staring at him, as well as just where he was.

The armored woman with the sword seemed familiar to him, as did the armored woman with the lance, but more importantly...

"Rider... did you just run over a person at Shiro's house?!" Jaune demanded incredulously, looking between Iskandar and the gigantic grey man under the chariot, before his Aura-enhanced instincts suddenly screamed at him.

Turning around, he saw a massive lion bounding towards him furiously.

His eyes widened.

"Wait, Saber?!" Jaune only managed to shout those two words in disbelief, before the giant lion immediately leapt on him, and pinned him to the ground, purring happily as it did so.

-ONE REUNION AND GRAIL WAR LATER-

"So, you have returned once more, King of Conquerors." Gilgamesh nodded respectfully to the massive man, as he stared down the familiar oxen-pulled war chariot.

"Oh?" Iskandar's eyebrow rose. "Have we met?"

"You were the Rider of the last Holy Grail War, King of Conquerors." Gilgamesh explained, smiling at the memory. "You, me, and the King of Knights held a meeting, where we discussed what it meant to be king."

"The King of Knights... are you referring to Lancer?" Iskandar asked excitedly. "She told me she was the Lancer of the last war as well."

"Indeed she was, King of Conquerors!" Gilgamesh laughed, before letting loose a wistful sigh. "I tried to make her mine, but she has never accepted. Perhaps if I ask again..."

"I doubt you will see any luck now either, King of Heroes!" Iskandar laughed as well, as Jaune glared at Gilgamesh from his side, feeling protective of his close friend. "She seems rather taken with my current Master, you know?"

"Is that so..." Gilgamesh's eyes turned cold and cruel, as he fixed Jaune with a gaze, and attempted to analyze him. "A mere mongrel, occupying the affection of the King of Knights... such an unfunny joke deserves death."

""...!"" Iskandar and Jaune immediately tensed up as their instincts warned them something bad was about to happen (as did Velvet, Artoria, Shiro, and Rin, who'd been observing the fight from a distance).

And then golden portals began to shimmer into existence around Gilgamesh, from which swords floated out of.

Instead of immediately attacking, however, he called out: "In deference to our previous meeting, King of Conquerors... I will allow you to use your Reality Marble. Set the stage, Rider, for one final confrontation."

"Hmph! You don't need to tell me twice!" Iskandar roared, as the excitement of subjugation, conquest, and victory welled up within him. Holding forth his sword, he roared: "COME GATHER ONCE MORE, FEARLESS FIGHTERS THAT AIMED TOGETHER TOWARDS THE FURTHEST END!"

Suddenly, a bluish-white light erupted forth from him, that engulfed his surroundings.

Gilgamesh simply watched on, even as the rest covered their eyes.

The next thing Jaune and the rest knew, they were in a massive flat desert.

And then, in the distance, marching could be heard.

They turned to see columns of spearmen marching towards them in formation.

"AS LONG AS OUR CHESTS BEAT WITH AMBITION FOR THE FAR HORIZON, THE CAMPAIGN WILL NEVER END!" Iskandar declared, his voice echoing across the blank expanse. "RAISE YOUR CRIES OF WAR! IONIAN HETAIROI!"

"... Iskandar, what's going on?" Jaune couldn't help but ask. "Who're these?"

"These men are my legendary heroes – my loyal followers!" Iskandar boomed joyfully. "They're my true friends - breaking the rules of space and time to fight once more at my side. They are my greatest treasures; they're my right to rule! They make up my mightiest Noble Phantasm - Ionian Hetairoi!"

"Your true friends, huh..." Jaune murmured, as an idea came to mind. "... if I pour my Aura into it, do you think my friends might show up too?"

"It's certainly worth a try, Master!" Iskandar shrugged, before noting: "And since the King of Heroes knew about my Noble Phantasm... that means he's probably fought it, and survived..."

Jaune gripped the large man's arm, and closed his eyes and concentrated.

He focused on the faces of his friends, on all the adventures he'd been through, even as he poured his Aura into the King of Conquerors.

And in that Reality Marble, where the laws of the World were overwritten...

The impossible happened.

Shiro, Rin, and even Gilgamesh almost did a double take, as the sound of chopper blades cut through the air, and more footsteps could be heard.

Iskandar, for his part, felt only vindication in his choice of Master, as he saw what Jaune had called forth.

As Jaune opened his eyes and turned, he indeed saw his friends.

Team JNPR, the Dragonborn, Ruby Ironwood, and Courier Six all smiled at him, as they approached him.

They weren't all, however.

Behind them was an ancient B-29, along with dozens of Vertibirds and hundreds of power-armored soldiers with laser rifles.

And at the rear, shaking the ground with every single step...

"++LIBERTY PRIME IS ONLINE. ALL SYSTEMS NOMINAL. WEAPONS HOT. MISSION: THE DESTRUCTION OF ANY AND ALL CHINESE COMMUNISTS++"

Postscript: Hey, if Voyager can become a Heroic Spirit, so can LIBERTY PRIME.

On a side note, to me, this would be the strongest Noble Phantasm for Jaune.

Not a holy sword, nor an unbreakable shield, or even the Thu'um, but simply the ability to summon forth every single person who has sworn to follow him (whether he knows it and likes it or not).

I also know that this is pretty much impossible, since it requires Jaune's Aura being able to basically supplement Iskandar's Reality Marble with snapshots of everyone he's ever met to form into Heroic Spirits for Ionioi Hetairoi to manifest, but hey, Ionioi Hetairoi supposedly breaks the rules of time and space, and that's also why this is a non-canon scenario (pure fan-service and an excuse for me to write LIBERTY PRIME lines? Sold!).

Don't get me wrong, though, I do think that Iskandar and Jaune would actually be good fits as a Master-Servant pair, with Iskandar encouraging Jaune and boosting his self-confidence as the greatest bro anyone could ever ask for...

But Jaune's already been claimed by a King, and I doubt she's willing to share.

SCENARIO: ARCADIA

POINT OF DEVIATION: [UNKNOWN]

Author's Notes: [REDACTED]

It was an ordinary day in the Arc Residence, just like any other they'd had after Jaune had returned.

Which was to say, it was peaceless and lively, even before the Sun had risen.

"What on earth do you think you're doing?!" Jeanne's voice shattered the silence

"What do you think I'm doing?" Dragonborn Yang asked rhetorically, raising an eyebrow. "I'm trying to enter his room."

"Exactly!" Jeanne pointed a finger at her. "Don't you have any sense of shame?!"

"What's the big deal?" Dragonborn Yang rolled her eyes. "I'll close the door after I enter... unless you want to watch..."

"I would never!" Jeanne furiously protested, her face burning. "And that's not the point! Jaune needs his rest! He just got back here a few days ago, didn't he?"

"Please." Dragonborn Yang waved her concerns away nonchalantly. "Jaune will be fine; he's got basically-unlimited Aura, and a stamina to match."

Jeanne's eye twitched, and she wondered if this was why Jaune had never told her most his stories. All she'd intended to do, as she'd made her way to her mentor's room, was ask him for his opinion about the manga she'd drawn.

Instead, she'd run into a blonde barbarian, who seemed to be the very incarnation of Wrath, Pride, and Lust, just as she'd been about to enter Jaune's room.

Much to her chagrin, Dragonborn Yang then deigned to take no further notice of her, opting to instead cheerfully open Jaune's door, even as she hissed a warning at her fellow extradimensional: "Hey, wait-"

"Good morning, Vomit B-" Dragonborn Yang cheerfully announced as she barged into the room, before her eyes widened.

Jeanne peeked in from behind her, intent on explaining the situation to Jaune, before she also noticed the empty room.

""...""

The two purple-eyed blondes exchanged looks for a moment, before agreeing on a temporary truce, in favor of looking for Jaune, worried that he'd accidentally gone dimension-hopping again.

Meanwhile, as Jeanne and Yang began their search, Jaune stared at the Ursa Major facing him, and wondered why he'd even felt threatened by them.

Sure, it was big and strong and spiky... but so was a demon, a dragon, and a Deathclaw.

Hell, any one of those three made an Ursa Major look positively cuddly in comparison.

The Ursa Major roared at him, before bounding forward towards him, intent on ripping the Aura-enhanced human to shreds.

For a moment, he was tempted to simply draw Caliburn and vaporize the poor Grimm, but he knew that wasn't what he'd been dragged out of bed at four in the morning for.

Instead, he smoothly slid to the side as it slammed its massive bulk into the spot he'd been occupying, before stepping forward and channeling Aura into his hand as he drove it into the Grimm's massive glowing red eye, unprotected by its mask.

The Ursa Major howled in pain as it flew back, its mask shattered by the blow, and Jaune sighed as it began to dissolve away.

"That was amazing, Sir Jaune!" Velvet clapped enthusiastically. "I never knew you were so skilled in unarmed combat too."

"Uh, thanks, Velvet..." Jaune rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, thankful that Grimm didn't bleed. Then he pointed to the third member of their impromptu group, and remarked: "But I'm still nowhere near her level."

The only reason the Slayer wasn't standing on a mountain of Grimm corpses as she looked down at them cockily, was because Grimm disintegrated upon death.

"... well, you did say she's been killing demons for eons..." Velvet automatically tried to cheer her mentor up, as the Slayer hopped down and gave Jaune an appraising look, before nodding approvingly.

"So, did you have enough of a warm up?" Jaune casually inquired, as she then began poking Velvet curiously.

The Slayer took a moment to cock her head to the side, even as she ruffled an increasingly-irate Velvet's hair, before she nodded and cracked her knuckles.

Jaune just sighed and shook his head, not needing VEGA to translate for him.

Instead, he asked: "Will you be heading back to Hell now, then? Or will you at least stay for breakfast?"

The Slayer took a moment to ponder it, before shrugging as she fixed the two of them with pointed looks.

"I believe the Slayer wants to ensure the two of you are adequately trained before she leaves." VEGA helpfully informed them, as the Slayer clicked her tongue and stormed off, holstering her shotgun as she did so.

"... Sir Jaune?" Velvet quietly asked, once the Slayer was out of earshot. "Why has the Slayer taken a special interest in me as well?"

"I have absolutely no idea, Velvet." Jaune whispered back. "But extra training can't hurt... right?"

"... if you say so, Sir Jaune..." Velvet sighed, conceding the point. "By the way... where does she pull out all those weapons from?"

In response, Jaune simply shrugged, having already decided that the Slayer, being a millennia-old demon-slaying badass, had a lot of tricks up her (metaphorical) sleeves.

Their trip back to the Arc Residence (even now, Jaune still had difficulty thinking of it as home, despite his family's best efforts) was uneventful; though the Slayer may have attracted Grimm like he attracted trouble (according to everyone who wasn't him, at least; personally, he thought they were just exaggerating a bit), she'd been doing a number on their numbers every day she'd stayed there, and between her brutal predations and whatever Salem's death had done to the rate at which Grimm appeared, Jaune was beginning to suspect that the Ursai Major they'd just killed may have been the last of their kind on the continent.

Of course, while the journey was uneventful, their arrival was not so quiet, and as soon as Jaune entered his family's house he found himself immediately accosted by a few blonde women, who alternated between expressing relief that he was still around and demanding to know where he'd disappeared to.

The Slayer, for her part, simply snorted with amusement at the scene in front of her, before ushering Velvet away before they could get involved in the fallout, only taking a moment to wish him good luck before taking her leave along with her unwitting captive.

Fortunately, while they were overwhelmed by concern, they were far from unreasonable (with the possible exception of Yang), and Jaune was able to quickly explain to Dragonborn Yang, Jeanne d'Arc, Joan, and Jane that he'd merely been convinced to spend the early morning clearing out the last remnants of Grimm that the Slayer had found (though Yang and Jeanne made him promise to take them along with him next time he went out so early, and Joan and Jane reminded him that he'd promised to stop simply wandering off unannounced (he hadn't really had a choice with regards to the Slayer, but he still promised to do his best), before his mother called them to the new dining room for breakfast (it had formerly been the living room, but the original dining room had only been designed to accommodate the extended Arc Family, which while sizeable still paled in comparison to the sheer number of guests staying in the Arc Residence).

Jaune entered the dining room to find Cindy setting the table as per his mother's instructions, while Artoria looked up from a conversation with his father to smile fondly at him, followed by Serana, Shiro, Sarah, and Jess, who had been busy discussing the differences among their worlds (the Slayer just gave him an unrepentant look as he pouted at her, while Velvet sheepishly waved at him).

As the table continued to be set up, Jen, Jean, and Jeanne Arc entered the room, yawning as they did so, before his second-oldest sister was dragged off by Dragonborn Yang (to discuss the failure of her plan), while Jeanne Arc dragged Jeanne d'Arc away to interrogate her about the accuracy of her comics, and Jean dragged Sarah Lyons away (to help her out with being more feminine; the other Arc twin had noticed the way the older woman shifted and looked at herself with a frown when surrounded by Huntresses, Artoria, Jeanne, and Dragonborn Yang.

Meal times were one of the few quiet moments in the Arc Residence; most of the extradimensionals had come from places that were rather lacking in any form of a culinary scene, and they took the time to savor their meals, now that they knew the food wasn't going anywhere.

(It hadn't always been that way, though; their first meal had been a chaotic and vicious free-for-all competition to see who got to sit next to Jaune, and even when they'd decided to split the table into Arcs on one side and everyone else on the other, the competition had simply become a question of who got to sit opposite Jaune, until June and Jack Arc had followed Artoria's suggestion and gotten a round table.)

Of course, once breakfast was over, all bets were off once again.

Fortunately, before anyone could attempt to ask Jaune to join them for the day, the door opened after a quick knock, revealing Yang Xiao-Long, Ruby Rose, Ruby Ironwood, and Pyrrha.

"Hey, Jaune, Sarah, did you know this world has so many cool things?!" Ruby Ironwood gushed, her hands filled with comic books and blacksmithing manuals.

"I take it the sleepover went well?" Jaune wryly asked, as Sarah attended to her hyperactive friend.

"Dad and Uncle Qrow had... a lot to say, about our disappearance..." Ruby Rose admitted sheepishly.

"You mean, they had a lot to say about that note you left behind." Yang Xiao-Long snorted and rolled her eyes, before addressing Jaune: "Oh, Ruby and Rubes had a blast. Me, on the other hand? I had to explain to them just what happened and why we were gone for four months. Trust me, if not for the fact that we showed up with a second Ruby, claiming to be the daughter of Summer Rose and James Ironwood, they might not have even believed me!"

"Yeah... that was a bit of shock for me too..." Jaune conceded, having heard of what had happened to this world's... Remnant's... the original James Ironwood. "Not as weird as finding out that Vomit Girl over there was older than me, though."

"I still can't believe you call her Vomit Girl and she calls you Invincible Boy, Lady Killer." Yang Xiao-Long snickered, before turning to Dragonborn Yang, and changing the subject: "Hey, Doppelyanger! You know my dad and uncle both want to see you too, right?"

"Still not interested." Dragonborn Yang rolled her eyes. "They're not my family, after all."

Pyrrha took advantage of the two Yangs bantering to nudge her shoulder against his as she asked: "Hello, Jaune."

"Hey, Pyr." Jaune smiled. "The, uh... Courier, didn't come with you?"

"Nora and Ren are showing her around." Pyrrha's smile was slightly strained now, but she took it all in stride. She may not have gotten along with the older bitch, but she could at least understand where she was coming from now (or rather, it was because she understood her so well, that she could not get along with the walking monument to what she could be). "She was really interested in seeing the park."

"You mean, the one you and Cardin had built in my honor?" Jaune shuddered, before shaking his head. "By the way, how did you convince Cardin to do it, anyway? Was it Nora?"

"Surprisingly, no." Pyrrha denied the allegations. "He's... well, he's gotten a lot better since our first year at Beacon, Jaune, as hard as it may be to believe. In fact, he's considered something of a hero, to the people in the Kingdom of Vale, and there's even talks that when they finally retake Beacon he can take the role of Combat Instructor, when Glynda becomes the new Headmistress."

"Huh..." Jaune tried to imagine it, but couldn't. Sure, he hadn't hated Cardin (mainly because he hadn't really bothered even thinking about him), but he just couldn't imagine Cardin pulling off the glasses and riding crop. "Nope, can't see it."

An idea entered Pyrrha's head, and she suggested: "You know... you could probably apply to be a teacher too..."

"Me? The worst student in Beacon?" Jaune laughed. "Not going to happen, Pyr."

"Come on, think it over for a moment, Jaune!" Pyrrha supportively encouraged him. "You already have teaching experience!"

"..." Jaune's eye twitched, and he tried to deny it immediately: "Those don't count! I have no idea how to be a proper teacher-"

"Isn't that even more evidence that you should be, Jaune?" Artoria entered the conversation, much to Pyrrha's chagrin. "Without any formal training, you managed to help me be a good King-"

"You were mainly taught by Merlin." Jaune immediately attempted to correct her.

"You did as much as that pansy, Jaune." Artoria reassured him. "And you trained Sir Velvet, Saint Jeanne, and even Shiro considers you a mentor of sorts."

"I still don't understand why Shiro does." Jaune pointed out.

"It doesn't invalidate my statement, Jaune." Artoria laughed.

"Well, it's fine if you don't want to be a teacher, Jaune." Pyrrha dropped the subject with a frown. "But... what do you intend on doing, then? Do you have any plans?"

Jaune thought about it for a moment.

Did he actually have any plans?

Honestly, no.

He'd been too busy for the past few years just trying to survive and adapt to all the different worlds, that he'd never even considered what he'd do if he ever got back to Remnant, beyond perhaps apologizing to his family and making sure his friends were alright.

And even if he wasn't legally dead here... what could he do?

He'd wanted to be a Huntsman, but with the Grimm in as much of a decline as they were... did Remnant really need another Huntsman?

Not as much as other places needed the Huntsman.

Fortunately, before he could announce his intentions (and spark a wave of protests from among the gathered), the doorbell rang again.

As Jaune turned the door with curiosity in his eyes (as did everyone else in the room), June went to open it, revealing Saphron, Terra, and two children.

"Hey, mom, you asked us to come?" Saphron began, as June greeted her, before her eyes fell upon the other occupants of the house, namely her six younger sisters, an absurd number of youthful women (quite a few of whom could easily pass for supermodels), and...

"... Jaune?!" Saphron gasped, as she saw her baby brother standing at the center of it all.

Oh, he wasn't the same as the Scroll recording of him at the Fall, and he definitely wasn't the same as the blonde noodle that had run away from home, but the tall and well-built man in front of her was a person she could never have mistaken.

"Saph?" Jaune blinked in surprise. "Terra? What're you all doing here?"

"I told them to come." June smiled, as tears filled Saphron's and Terra's eyes.

"She said she had a surprise for us." Saphron absently confirmed, before shaking her head and asking: "How... but... we thought you were dead!"

"It's a long story, big sis!" Jen laughed, even as Jeanne Arc tossed her a copy of Jeanne d'Arc's first volume of Knight of Love.

"Uh... what's this?" Terra couldn't help but ask, as Saphron looked at the book, to show a stylized drawing of Jaune facing down a dragon on the cover.

"Long story short, our little brother has been having some adventures in his afterlife..." Jess explained even as Jaune buried his burning face in his hands. "And someone actually turned it into a comic book series-"

"Anyway!" Jaune interrupted before he could die of embarrassment. As flattered as he was by the comic... just... why? "How have you been, Saph, Terra? Who're these?"

"Oh, uh... you remember Adrian..." Saphron automatically replied, gesturing to the little boy hiding behind Tera's legs as he stared at the strangers with curiosity.

"That's little Adrian?" Jaune couldn't hide his disbelief.

"You haven't seen him in five years, little bro." Jane pointed out with a roll of her eyes.

"And this... is the latest addition to the Arc family." Saphron then gestured to the baby in Terra's arms. "Aqua Cotta-Arc."

"Wow..." Jaune couldn't help but breathe, as he saw his niece and nephew.

"Do you want to hold her?" Terra offered her brother-in-law, as Saphron began to flip through the pages, and get the summarized version of Jaune's death and returnfrom the rest of the Arc family.

"... can I?" Jaune asked, before Terra suddenly held her out to him with a smile on her face.

"You know, Saphron and Adrian really missed you, Jaune." Terra told him softly, as he instinctively took Aqua. "I have no idea how you're back, or who all these girls are... but it's good to see you're okay."

"Adrian remembered me?" Jaune raised an eyebrow, before Aqua yawned and opened her eyes, before gazing up at him with wonder.

Then, she gurgled, and reached a stubby arm out for his face, and he cradled her closer to his chest as she fidgeted in his arms.

"I think she likes you." Terra smiled as Aqua giggled, eliciting a warm smile from Jaune in return.

And behind him, the hearts of multiple girls melted simultaneously, before they shared a look.

They may not have liked each other, or gotten along with each other...

But they didn't have to.

They could simply settle for tolerating one another, as they reached an unspoken agreement.

And Jaune suddenly felt a chill run up his spine, as Aqua covered his finger in slobber.

Postscript: And here we go, with the absolutely unrealistic linchpin What-If Scenario that opens the possibility for certain unrealistic combinations of Afterstory Scenarios to occur within the same timeline (such as Scenarios DRAGONS̶LAYER, DFFN, JNPR, and RETURN OF THE KING).

Don't get me wrong, though; they don't magically get along with each other, or like each other, just because they now have a common goal they're willing to compromise for. But they do now have common ground to begin discussions, and that does beget the possibility for an agreement to be made.

Sure, the possibility of an amicable discussion being reached by all parties is slim, as is the chance of Jaune actually agreeing to anything, but at least with this it can exist.

Of course, like I said, this ultimately is a What-If Scenario (specifically, What If The Girls Managed To Agree To A Truce), and its canonicity is dubious at best.

More than serve as harem fanservice, though, this scenario was originally designed as a way to give a glimpse of Jaune's everyday life just after The Reunion, as the Arc Family begins to adapt to the chaos, and show how the girls and the family interact among themselves and with each other and Jaune.

On a side note, Weiss, Blake Belladonna, Rin, and Tier Harribel are enjoying a day in the Schnee manor during this time, with Weiss and Rin discussing magecraft, Semblances, and Dust, while Blake asks Tier to help her get published (since Jeanne is still illiterate).

Afterword: Is it finally over? Are we finally done?

Good lord, writing this chapter was a pain, not least because it was so long that the document editor began lagging out every time I added in new sentences halfway through...

To edit this draft is to suffer...

You know, it's certainly been an odd journey, when I look back on where this entire story began. And I don't mean the Two Worlds, One Arc-nomaly short story, I mean where the original idea for that came from.

I believe I mentioned it back when I started that story, but originally I watched the first 3 seasons of RWBY to try and get over a bout of writer's block while trying to write some other (sadly cancelled) stories back in the middle of 2020.

What I didn't mention is that the only I even considered watching RWBY in the first place was because I found two RWBY AMVs on YouTube that caught my eye while I was blasting music to try and get over the aforementioned writer's block - Get Up by All Good Things and Never Give Up by Extreme Music. If not for those two AMVs, I would have probably never even bothered looking into RWBY.

But watch them I did, and look into RWBY I did, and when I watched the ending to Season 3, one of the things I couldn't help but wonder was "What If Jaune Arc Replaced Pyrrha Nikos At The Fall Of Beacon".

The first chapter came easily enough, originally designed as a one-shot of sorts, and remains relatively unchanged, as both the first chapter of this story and its predecessor.

A simple premise, with a tragic, touching ending...

And that dissatisfied me greatly.

So I turned the ending into the beginning of a generic isekai story.

Skyrim was the obvious choice for me, since I'd already done my Skyrim story, and naturally when it came to figuring out who the Dragonborn would be, Yang Xiao-Long was the logical option.

And after I'd figured out the first new world and first ported RWBY character... well, why stop there?

And so things gradually escalated, until... well... here we are now, less than a year and a half after its inception, with me wrapping up whatever this story's become.

So, in a weird way, you can thank writer's block for giving you all of this.

And I'm sure that the endings and omakes I've written won't nearly be enough to satisfy everyone.

Similarly, I'm sure everyone can think of more crossovers, more characters, more shenanigans, that they feel would be far better than what I've presented.

And to that, all I'll say is feel free to go nuts.

Do what you want, write what you want, unleash your imagination and creativity. I certainly won't stop anyone who wishes to do so.

After all, my story is done.

Like I said, I absolutely will not exceed 100 chapters for this story, even if that means the last chapter is longer than some actual stories (to be fair, though, only 1 chapter since the Fuyuki act has been under 10k words).

And hey, don't be glad it's over; be mad it even happened, and feel free to be inspired and do your own things.

Also, since this is the last chapter, I guess this is the last time I'll be plugging my ko-fi here. Uh, something something you can find my ko-fi on my profile something something donations will get you absolutely nothing something something why would you donate the entire thing is done something something.

Whoever you are, whenever you're reading this, have a good day.

18 Nov 2023 UPDATE:

"After all, my story is done." - Some Random Shitty Rambler, 4 Dec 2021

"So that was a fucking lie." - Some Random Shitty Rambler, 18 Nov 2023

Fear me and despair, for I bring one final story to this chapter, for when I swore this story would never go beyond 100 chapters I bloody well meant it (this is the part where you weep tears of blood, just like FFN's document manager is now doing because good lord, this chapter was over 48,000 words long before I added this monstrosity to it, and this took maybe a minute to copy and paste).

As for what it is?

Well, look, I've referenced this setting many times in my Author's Notes.

I've memed about it just as many times.

But never once did I seriously consider doing it.

After all, it's that setting, and I really don't do bleak grim darkness, and the story's already long enough, and look at how long this gods-damned chapter is already getting please have mercy-

But the dark god that is the Plot Fairy apparently enjoys my feeble attempts at preventing this from degenerating into insane rambling, and most of all…

I do what I want, and I like what I do.

SCENARIO: 7P (PRIME-ARC - PROTECTOR PARENT. POST-HUMAN PARAGON. PARTNER OF PRIMARCHS.)

POINT OF DEVIATION: AFTER CHAPTER 97

WORD COUNT: ~21,600

Author's Notes: This "What-If Scenario" is basically "What If Jaune Didn't Return Home After Chapter 97, But Instead Went To The (Not So) Grim Darkness of the (Not So) Far Future".

Yes, indeed, this is a new What-If Scenario, that's been written and uploaded to ATDITW long after I finished that story, and it's also one I'm giving no update on solely because of my absolute refusal to let that story go past 100 chapters.

(Also, coincidentally, 7P (because the full name of this What-If Scenario is a fucking mouthful) is the 7th omake for ATDITW. Don't believe me? Count them.)

To give a quick summary of why this has been written... while I was in a slight slump while writing FIIIP, a writer by the name of NewOtaku sent me a message asking to write a spin-off ending of ATDITW, where Jaune and Cindy got sent to yet another dimension instead of returning home as he did in Chapter 98.

The idea kind of stuck with me, even after I told them to go nuts as I do with everyone, and then I found a fic of Tanya von Degurechaff (yes, from Youjo Senki) basically being isekai'd into Warhammer 30k (yes, technically not 40k yet) as a genderbent Leman Russ, which then spiralled into me finding the genderbent Primarch art pieces of Ryuusei (Mark II).

And when I hit another slump writing FIIIP again... well, I think it's obvious what happened next.

I'd call this "absolute crack", except that I'm reasonably sure it's also been laced so that it gives you a bad trip.

Without further ado, I'd say "enjoy", but I've never been one to lie, so... suffer.

You have been warned.

As he slowly roasted the day's catch over the fire (some weird alien lizard rabbit, as far as he could tell), and the smell of melting fat and whatever herbs and spices he'd been able to scrounge up wafted up around him, Jaune couldn't help but watch the drooling girl in front of him even as he wondered just where things had all gone so wrong.

... well, to be fair, just about everything had been going wrong for him since he'd stolen the family sword and ran away from home, but in this case he was trying (and failing) to pinpoint something specific, something that had led to this exact situation.

Maybe it had been when he'd gotten himself involved in the Holy Grail War despite not knowing what was going on, and having lost his sword (and thus the main means of defending himself and his friends)?

Maybe it had been when he'd hesitated when dealing with the curse-free Angra Mainyu, believing she could have been saved?

Or maybe, just maybe... it had been when he'd blundered into yet another fight as soon as he'd woken up in this unfamiliar world, and immediately and recklessly charged in.

Truly, it was a mystery for the ages.

All he did know, as he handed the cooked meat over to the child (who promptly began tearing into it with the table manners of a Beowolf), was that this was the weirdest afterlife he'd ever had.

Yes, even compared to the Antlerites and the Bright Brotherhood.

After all, how else could you explain him, Jaune Arc, Worst Huntsman-in-Training in Beacon History, ending up as a glorified babysitter?!

Well, besides blaming everything on All The Evils In The World, of course.

As far as he could tell, Angra Mainyu had apparently decided that the best way to fulfil both of their wishes (her words, not his) had been to chuck him to here (wherever "here" even was), just as the kid in front of him had needed his help.

No, it didn't make any sense to him either.

Seriously, what wish of his had she been trying to grant with this...?

And how was the kid connected to her wish?

Also, speaking of the kid...

To put it lightly, Jaune couldn't tell if she was just really special, or if humans in this dimension were just really different from what he was used to.

For starters, she looked like a very tall pre-teen (seriously, the girl was almost as tall as him, and he didn't think he was on the short side), which raised a lot of questions, considering she'd been an infant when they'd first met, fourteen (local) days ago (he had to make that distinction; days on this world seemed longer than what he was used to as well).

And that wasn't even getting into how he'd met her.

Going from facing down Angra Mainyu to suddenly finding himself high up in some unfamiliar mountain range hadn't been the weirdest thing in the worlds (he'd been punched out of a scroll by a one-armed soul-eating ghost that one time, after all), but then the sounds of battle had gotten his attention, and he'd followed them just to stumble across what had appeared to be a baby, covered in numerous grievous wounds (seriously, he'd been able to see through some of the bigger holes in her chest), standing up as she'd faced off against a pair of tall, lanky, pointy-eared, oddly-armored humanoids with weird swords and weirder guns, while scores more of the aliens' corpses surrounded them.

In that moment, all he'd been able to see was a human child about to be killed by aliens, and he'd remembered the alien mothership.

He hadn't been able to help himself, and it had only been after he'd slain the two aliens and begun channelling his Aura into the baby to heal her, that he'd calmed down enough to start wondering if he'd done the right thing.

After all, from the start it should have been clear the kid wasn't any ordinary infant (by any standard he knew, at least); the fact that she'd still been alive, standing, and had clearly killed lots of aliens even before he'd arrived kind of spoke for themselves, after all, to say nothing of the fact that he couldn't even be sure she really was human (as opposed to simply being some alien or monster that simply looked like a human baby), or why the aliens had wanted her dead in the first place.

In the end, though, he'd already acted, and there wasn't much more that he could do than continue taking care of the child, and hope that he was doing the right thing.

And so, for the past fourteen (local) days, he'd explored the mountain range with her, making sure to stay away from any signs of people or civilization (all those dead aliens had to have come from somewhere, and Jaune felt it was a safe assumption that the planet was probably inhabited by them, and they'd probably want to finish the job), and in that time he'd watched her rapidly grow up from a baby into a toddler, and then into the child that she was this day.

And he had to place an emphasis on this day; Jaune figured she'd probably be the equivalent of a teenager soon, if her rate of growth remained constant.

Did all humans in this dimension just grow up that fast, or was she just a special case? Yet another question he didn't have the answer to...

"Hey, hey, you done yet?!"

The loud demand from the boisterous girl snapped him out of his musings, and he looked back up to find her shamelessly leaning forward towards the rest of the meat he'd been roasting, the food he'd given her but a moment ago already finished.

Jaune couldn't help but chuckle, fondly remembering another certain glutton he'd travelled the wilds with.

Even now, he still had difficulty believing "Arthur" had been a girl all along, to say nothing of what Artoria had grown up into...

A pang of sorrow wiped any good cheer from him, as he then recalled the colder, heartbroken, determined older woman he'd met in Fuyuki City, and how it had been all his fault, and he'd never been able to reconcile with her at the end of everything...

A warm hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality again, and he found the girl crouched in front of him, looking him over with concern on her face as she asked: "You, okay?"

"Don't worry about me, I'm fine," Jaune quickly reassured the kid with a smile, before distracting her by handing over the rest of the meat he'd been cooking.

Honestly, as far as things went, she wasn't bad company; even when she'd been a baby and a toddler she hadn't cried or made much of a fuss, she'd picked up speech from him in what he felt had to be record time, she seemed to have grown pretty attached to him in the fourteen (local) days they'd spent together, and she liked his stories.

The only thing that really bothered him about the current situation (besides her accelerated rate of growth and the whole "hiding from a planet possibly full of potentially-hostile aliens" situation) was that he still didn't know what to call her.

He'e been using terms like "kid", "girl", or "child" for the time being, but it felt increasingly wrong the older she grew and the closer they grew, but at the same time he didn't really have the right to name her, since he wasn't her dad or anything.

(On a side note, the closest clue he had to the girl's true nature and identity was the wreckage of the pod she'd been found in, which had also borne the words "XII", but he wasn't sure if it was read as "Xii" (which felt like a weird name to him, personally) or if it was meant to be read like the numerical system Camelot had used, "12" (which was even more dehumanizing, in his opinion); stranger coincidences had happened, after all.)

... well, it wasn't like it mattered, anyway.

As impersonal as the terms he'd been using were, the girl hadn't really complained so far, and he didn't think figuring out a name for her was that big of a priority.

Instead, as she heartily polished off her second helping, Jaune took a seat across from her, and easily tended the campfire as he offered: "So, what story do you want to hear tonight?"

"Oh, oh! I know," the girl excitedly shouted as she looked up from her food. "You talked about war between the Brotherhood of Steel and the Enclave yesterday! What happened after mountain got destroyed?"

Jaune didn't even bother blinking at the immediate answer anymore; one of the things he'd learnt about his new companion in the past fourteen (local) days was that she was a genius with a photographic memory.

"Oh, you're going to like this part," Jaune instead promised as he closed his eyes. "Did I ever tell you what a robot is?"

-SEVEN (LOCAL) DAYS LATER-

As the primitive axe flew towards his head, Jaune couldn't help but once again wonder just what in Oum's name he'd gotten himself into.

In hindsight, he really should have figured something was up with the girl he'd saved when she'd somehow remained standing after facing off against a few dozen aliens and grown from an infant to a teenager almost as tall as him in less than a (local) month (and to be fair, he had), but in his defense he was pretty sure there hadn't been that many warning signs pointing to this outcome.

... okay, maybe her pointed interest in hearing about all the battles he'd faced might have been a clue (especially when she'd pressed for details for the hundredth time), and he probably shouldn't have indulged her when she'd asked to learn combat from him, but considering the ever-present alien threat looming over their heads he felt he could be forgiven for deciding that she could probably do with learning how to defend herself.

How the hell was he supposed to have known that the kid he'd known for less than a month was pretty much a natural when it came to fighting?!

Honestly, even that was probably understating it!

He'd have said she took to fighting like a fish to water, but there were probably fishes out there that couldn't swim as well as she fought!

Hell, between her unnatural (to him) growth, her insane instincts, and her absurd ability to absorb and analyze basically every trick in his book, he could safely say that after just a (local) week, training sessions with her were reminding him of his sessions with Pyr (and with him once again on the receiving end of a brutal beatdown)

For a moment, he couldn't help but wonder just how far the kid could grow, if only she was being trained by someone actually competent (like Kay or Glynda Goodwitch), instead of... well... him.

Then the moment passed, as Jaune refocused on the sharpened slab of salvaged metal being swung towards his face with a barely-suppressed sigh.

The girl wasn't the only one who was strong, fast, or able to learn from their opponent, after all.

In the split second before it smashed his face open (or at least smashed itself against his Aura), Jaune had already decided on a course of action, and Caliburn was already batting it to the side.

He made sure to limit his force and use the flat of his blade; he didn't want to destroy her only weapon, even if it was just a piece of her pod that had been sharpened and tied to a stick, and even if she could have defended herself without it just fine.

(It was also why he didn't just use his shield to block the axe; with his Aura strengthening it the axe-head would've simply crumpled, flattening itself uselessly as they'd found out multiple times in the past few (local) days.)

To her credit the girl didn't try to hold on to the axe this time, and so instead of being sent flying away with it she loosened her grip on it, allowing it to be knocked into an unfortunate nearby tree as she instead rushed him, attempting to grapple with him, wrestle him into submission.

Jaune might have called it a bad idea once upon a time, but even if he hadn't known the Doom Slayer and Yang (both Ruby's sister and the Dragonborn), he'd literally met the girl as she'd been surrounded by the corpses of aliens, aliens she'd killed with her bare hands while she'd still been an infant.

Even as she leapt for his shield, however (she'd learned from their prior fights that Caliburn was absolutely bullshit and only allowed him and Artoria to handle it), Jaune was ready.

Rather than backing off, creating distance between them (which would have favored him with his height and weapon granting him a much longer reach), he instead sheathed Caliburn in Avalon and flicked his shield back into its scabbard configuration, before throwing a haymaker right at her face.

If she wanted to get some experience barehanded combat, well, he wasn't about to complain; it'd been a good while since he'd gotten practice with it too.

Of course, he didn't put all of his strength into the blow, but the force of his fist meeting her head head on still sent her flying back with a sickening cracking noise, which was only made worse when the girl flew into a tree with an even-more-sickening smacking sound, before the top half of the tree fell on top of her.

"Shit!" Jaune cursed in a panic, immediately running towards her, preparing to channel his Aura into her. "Are you alright, kid?! I am so sorry about that!"

To his surprise, however, instead of being met with a weak groan or a wet gurgle or a colorful string of curses (not that he'd taught her many, of course), peals of laughter filled the air as the girl easily tossed the tree trunk off of her.

"Are you alright?" Jaune demanded as he reached her, and automatically began channelling his Aura into her.

"I deserved that one," the girl laughed ruefully even as she carefully massaged the base of her neck, before suddenly cricking her neck. Jaune winced at the painful noise, and then again as she casually spat out a gob of blood. "You always talk about using your sword and shield, I almost forgot you know how to throw a punch too!"

"So... you're alright?" Jaune pressed concernedly, looking her over. Fortunately, she'd barely sustained any injuries from his punch, and the few cuts and bruises that he could see were already healing, between his Aura and her natural regeneration.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," the girl waved off his concern, though she gripped his arms to pull herself off of the ground. "Barely even tickled, see?"

"That's good to hear," Jaune breathed a sigh of relief as he removed his hands from her skin, before his instincts began screaming at him as he found he couldn't lift his arms any higher.

"You didn't think this would be over so quickly, did you?" the girl asked him sweetly, with a predatory smile that wouldn't have been out of place on Alduin, even as her grip tightened even more.

Jaune groaned, before bracing himself as the girl violently tossed him into another nearby tree, before charging right after him with what he could only describe as a cross between ferocious war cry and a roar of savage and gleeful laughter (a sound he knew very well, between knowing (at least) two Yangs and Nora Valkyrie).

Of course, being on the defensive, being just a few steps away from getting utterly overwhelmed, was a position Jaune was more than intimately familiar with, and even as the girl threw a flurry of blows his body was already moving according to his instincts, ducking and weaving to avoid what he could, and blocking what he couldn't with his Aura-enhanced body.

And even as every punch she threw was deflected, as every kick she launched blocked, even as she felt her muscles tearing and reknitting themselves, the girl could feel her hearts pounding faster and faster, a furious excitement that threatened to overtake her.

She'd never felt this way before; her previous training sessions with Jaune had been short, and mainly involved them exchanging a few rapid blows before she got inevitably disarmed within a few seconds (he'd sliced through her axe three times, flattened it against his shield seven times, and knocked it out of her grasp two times, according to her eidetic memory, to say nothing of what had happened to the dozens of other makeshift weapons she'd also tried against him), and followed by him giving her a few pointers and letting her slowly practice again (or, more likely, repairing her axe).

But now?

Even as she continued relentlessly attempting to batter her way through Jaune's guard, every near-miss and failed attempt only driving her forward, giggles of exhilaration kept escaping her lips as she revelled in the novel emotions racing through her.

This was living, this was what she'd been created for, and she wanted more of it!

Jaune, for his part, could only bite back another sigh as he saw the manic grin threatening to split the girl's face, and felt every subsequent blow she threw at him becoming progressively stronger and faster.

Of course he'd accidentally picked up what he could only describe as the lovechild of Yang Xiao-Long and Pyrrha Nikos, combining the former's boisterous and aggressive nature with the latter's inherent competitiveness and talent for winning.

But even if there was no shame in losing to the girl, he wasn't ever one to lie down and give up, and it was with gritted teeth that he purposely channelled more of his Aura into his arms, before letting it meet the full force of a kick from the girl.

A flash of golden light erupted from between them, before the girl was sent flying back yet again as the force behind the blow was suddenly amplified and turned against her.

Jaune took advantage of the momentary reprieve to catch his breath, not feeling quite so concerned about the girl this time (he knew full well how durable and sneaky she was), but as he quickly shook some of the numbness from his arms, the expected assault never materialized.

Instead, the girl staggered out of the crater she'd made, looking utterly shocked by what had happened. "W-what was that?!"

"Aura," Jaune shrugged, drawing it around different parts of his body to demonstrate. "Usually I use it for healing, or for protecting myself, but that's another way it can be used."

Instead of continuing their fight this time, the girl simply walked up to him, studying it. Her eidetic memory meant that she could recall everything he'd told her, including that Aura was supposedly a manifestation of his soul, but she didn't recall him mentioning this, and she'd never seen it used in such a capacity before. Her instincts all told her it was important, but she wasn't quite sure why, and so she could only frown as she settled for poking it inquisitively with a finger.

Seeing that she wasn't about to continue their fight, Jaune finally allowed himself to relax, lowering his arms as the girl continued prodding his Aura.

He didn't get her sudden interest at all though.

Seriously, it was just Aura; it shouldn't be anything special to the less-than-a-month-old teenage killing machine, right?

And then his Aura screamed at him, and he was already tackling the girl to the floor when a laser beam suddenly lanced through the air where her head had been milliseconds before.

Then a hail of tiny discs flew at them even as he drew his sheath and flicked it back into its shield configuration, before breathing a sigh of relief as the few that hit his body simply pinged off of his Aura (it'd been a gamble, but better him than the girl, at least).

Then lanky, pointy-eared aliens emerged from the trees surrounding them, weird crystalline guns raised in his specific direction, as Jaune quickly jumped to his feet, the girl following suit a moment later.

Instead of opening fire again, however, they began to talk among themselves (though they never lowered their weapons), and Jaune didn't miss the chance to eavesdrop.

"I thought you said the golem would be alone, Farseer."

"I did not see the presence of another in my visions, but I doubt one more human will make a difference."

"But he was capable of pulling the golem out of the way, not to mention surviving the second salvo."

"Regardless, we came prepared to kill one of the warmonger's golems; another human will make no difference."

"Uh, sorry, can I interrupt?" Jaune spoke up as he raised his hands and stepped forward, before freezing as one of them fired a warning shot at where he would've stepped next. Getting the message, he remained in place as he asked: "Why are you referring to this girl as a "golem"? And what do you mean, you came here prepared to kill her?"

There was a moment of silence, before one of the aliens, the one with a particularly-pointy helmet incredulously asked: "You speak out tongue, human?"

Next to him, the girl also whispered: "Jaune... how do you speak alien?"

"I have absolutely no idea," Jaune replied honestly with a small shrug, remembering how Blake had remarked that he'd spoken French to her while writing in English. He had as much of an idea now about how it worked as he had back then, and more importantly discussing his numerous deaths wasn't something he found particularly pressing while being surrounded by hostile aliens.

"Human, step aside!" Farseer demanded imperiously, apparently coming to a decision. "This need not concern you; walk away, and we will let you live."

Jaune simply raised an eyebrow, wondering if that was all the alien had to say, and when it became clear that no further information was coming, he sighed.

"No way," Jaune firmly refused, lowering his arms.

There was no second chance, but Jaune hadn't expected anything else from these aliens, and even as he saw their fingers tensing on their weapons, he was already moving, grabbing the girl's arm as he Shouted: "WULD!"

But even as the two of them were propelled forward by a sudden burst of force, the aliens were also moving, and Jaune found himself being extremely thankful that he hadn't resheathed his shield as he smashed one of the lightly-armored aliens in the face with it as it tried to intercept him, while next to him the girl laughed while driving her fist through another's chest.

Out of nowhere, however, another trio of aliens (these ones fully-armored and with odd bulky devices on their shoulders) appeared right in front of them from nowhere in a flash of blue-silver-purple light (at least, as far as Jaune could tell), and Jaune was forced to let go of the girl as he drew Caliburn just as they fired.

Instead of bullets, however, he found himself cutting through a cloud of extremely fast and thin spinning wires with his sword, while a second attempted to wrap itself around his shield and the third missed him, having been aimed at the girl, who threw the body of the alien she'd just killed at the projectiles, which proceeded to reduce the body into numerous smaller chunks of gore and bright red blood.

There was absolutely no hesitation as he charged them, slicing one of them in half while Shouting the second and third into a boulder with a forceful: "FUS RO DAH!"

His instincts screamed at him again, and he took a step back as bolts of lightning suddenly struck the ground where he'd been.

"I know not what you are or why you pretend to be human," Farseer spat, electricity gathering around its finger tips, "but both of you will die!"

Then it unleashed a storm upon Jaune, who in turn thrust his sword forward as he Shouted: "CALIBURN!"

A ray of pure golden light burst forward, effectively slicing through the arcane lightning the alien had thrown at him, before it struck and vaporized the alien itself.

"You really weren't joking about what Caliburn could do," a voice suddenly spoke up next to him, and he turned to find the girl returning to his side, hands covered in blood and body covered in countless shallow wounds. Behind her, dead aliens littered the area all around them, reminding him of the day they'd first met. "Anyway, what did the alien say?"

"Just told me to step aside so they could kill you," Jaune shrugged, resheathing Caliburn and his sword before channelling his Aura into her wounds once she reached him.

"Aliens," the girl spat, rolling her eyes before a toothy grin appeared on her face. "Anyway, think they'll come a third time?"

"I hope not," Jaune could only sigh, though a hint of fond exasperation tinged his voice; he'd known (at least) two Yangs and Nora Valkyrie, after all, and he could guess what she was thinking.

The girl only laughed at his tone, proving him correct, before another smile, this one softer somehow, overtook her features.

Once again, a sensation she'd never felt before was coursing through her veins.

Unlike when she'd fought against Jaune a few minutes ago, which had sparked her competitiveness, this time she somehow felt triumphant, from having fought alongside Jaune, having fought to protect him as he had her, as well as a sense of security from having trusted her safety to him, and a sense of satisfaction, that he'd let her cover him while he'd dealt with the sorcerer.

It was different... but it wasn't bad, and something shifted inside her, as she couldn't help but Jaune fighting by her side, against all the enemies the world had to offer (and beyond).

She wanted it, that glorious shining future.

But then her instincts alerted her to something, and she turned to find one of the aliens Jaune had Shouted into a rock suddenly appearing next to her, weapon pointed at her.

Before the alien could fire, however, she was already crushing the barrel of the xenos weapon, just a moment before Jaune rammed his sword right through its back.

It collapsed to its knees as she tossed its weapon aside dismissively, but it still mustered enough strength to defiantly declare: "Your death by our hands would have been a kindness, golem..."

"So you can speak human," the girl noted, leaning closer to the alien's head while gripping it by the jagged hole in its chest. "Now tell me what you mean, alien."

"The Farseers have seen your destiny," the alien explained, and though Jaune couldn't see its face he imagined it was glaring at her. "You will burn our worlds, slaughter our people, and condemn our souls to an eternity of damnation under She-Who-Thirsts, before you finally fall, and become a mindless killer enslaved to the Blood God"

Jaune couldn't help but wince, as he heard that prophecy and remembered speaking to someone who'd been condemned by others to be All The Evils In The World.

Had these aliens decided that this girl was something similar? Had Angra Mainyu sent him here to avert this?

"But that makes no sense," Jaune interrupted just as the girl cocked her fist back, ready to punish it for its words. "Why would she do something like that? Hell, the only reason she killed your people was because you attacked her first!"

"It is what she was created to do," the alien spat. "No matter what, she will be among the greatest and most bloodthirsty of butchers the galaxy has ever suffered."

This time, Jaune shifted uneasily, as he remembered what he'd observed in the past few weeks. Assuming the alien wasn't lying (which was a stretch, admittedly), her being created as a weapon would explain the pod she'd been found nearby only having a number (assuming he was supposed to read XII as "12", of course), along with her odd abilities...

But then he saw the girl's face looking up at him, and immediately discarded the notion.

He'd had more than enough of destiny and fate and prophecies, and it was with a resolute firmness that he denied the alien: "You're wrong. She doesn't have to be a butcher; the future isn't set in stone."

To their surprise, the alien simply let loose a bark of harsh laughter, and Jaune's instincts immediately began screaming at him as the alien whispered: "Indeed... she won't be."

The alien's hands rose up to firmly grip the girl's just as another alien, the other one he'd Shouted into a rock, appeared right behind the girl with a burst of dim light, reaching for her.

Jaune didn't hesitate this time either, refusing to risk letting any harm come to the girl, and immediately leapt forward while Shouting: "WULD!"

Before the alien could touch the girl, Jaune's body was propelled into it, tackling it away from her even as he drew his sword.

And just as the Aeldari Warp Spider activated its Jump Generator, Jaune's magical sword tore through its delicate machinery, and the two of them were sent into the Warp, with little control available from either of them.

-INSERT ARC BREAK HERE-

As Jaune looked around at his surroundings (trees, trees as far as the eye could see), the urge to simply slump against the nearest sturdy object welled up within him, but he fought it down with practiced ease as he instead settled for sighing.

The last thing he remembered before waking up here a few minutes ago had been him stabbing the alien through the chest, before a flash of what could best be described as a purple-blue-silverish light (though it didn't feel right) overtook them both, and then he'd found himself waking up here, shaking off dreams of a pair of dragons resting on his chest (despite both of them easily being ten times his size each; one had looked like Alduin but was gold, and the other had looked like Vortigern's dragon form but red) and growling something lurking just out of sight.

While he had absolutely no idea where he was, this entire situation was sadly familiar to him, and his best guess was that the alien had attempted to take the girl down with it, and his intervention had meant he'd died (again) and woken up somewhere else (again).

And it was a forest. Again.

He didn't even know how many times he'd woken up in a forest by now; there'd been Fuyuki, and France before that...

Well, at least he was pretty experienced with living in forests, even if this one was denser than most.

Even as he got up, however, and began quickly looking around for the basics he'd need to survive for the next few days (food, water, shelter), his mind couldn't help but turn back to the girl, before he forcefully shook his head, attempting to banish those worries.

He'd taught her everything he could about survival before he'd left; between that and her natural abilities she'd be okay without him.

She'd be fine.

She had to be.

Fortunately for him, before he could continue dwelling on those thoughts, his Aura screamed again, and Caliburn and his shield were both already unsheathed even before he'd turned around to face the threat, some overgrown cat that reminded him of Saber (Artoria's lion, that is) if it was feral and spiky instead of cute and cuddly that leapt down from a tree at him.

It was dead before it even hit the ground beside him.

Just to make sure, of course (it would just be his luck that this world would be the world where hungry lions didn't need their heads to survive), Jaune stabbed it again, before finally lowering his guard as it failed to flinch after a few seconds (and his Aura failed to detect any threats).

Well, at least food had been secured.

Just as Jaune resheathed Caliburn and grabbed the beast's body with his right hand (he kept his shield on his left forearm, of course; he didn't know what else was in the forest), he thought he spotted a humanoid figure in the trees watching him, though a second, closer look revealed nothing but more trees.

Naturally, he kept his guard up as he began dragging the body behind him; just because he couldn't see something didn't mean it wasn't there.

-ONE (LOCAL) DAY LATER-

Jaune was being followed.

He'd had his suspicions ever since he'd killed that first creature, of course, but now he was sure he was being followed.

Whoever or whatever had been following had been good, he'd give them that (even now, he hadn't been able to confirm more than that they were humanoid), but he'd spent a fair bit of time tracking Grimm, battling ancient and invisible vampires, and dealing with no small number of magical monsters while journeying with Artoria, Kay, and Merlin.

Also, it was really hard to hide the fact that the remains of the beast he'd slain had disappeared after he'd been done with it, especially when it had happened two more times after that...

Well, as long as they weren't trying to hurt him (and his instincts, honed by his experience and skills and boosted by his Aura, were quiet on that front), he didn't see any reason to go looking for them, especially not when the forest was already full of creatures that were out for his blood.

And that wasn't an exaggeration; if the dozens of monsters he'd fought in the past local day (at least a day here seemed closer to a day on Remnant (or Skyrim, or the Wasteland, or Earth) than the last one) had been made of black shadows and bone masks, he'd have sworn he'd woken up in the heart of the Grimmlands or something.

But no, he wasn't back on Remnant (the moon was intact, he'd checked), and he didn't want to get his hopes up about ever returning home, not when the last time he'd been offered that choice, it had been at the expense of someone else's well-being.

Sighing, Jaune turned his attention back to the fire he'd been tending, refusing to dwell on that as he instead focused on the meat he'd been grilling.

To put it lightly, it wasn't the most delicious meat he'd ever tasted; to put it frankly, he'd have hesitated to even call it palatable if not for the multitudes of herbs and spices he'd always carried around with him.

But it was at least edible (or his Aura was protecting him from the worst of it), and hopefully he'd get out of this forest and back to whatever civilization existed on this world sooner or later.

... this world was inhabited, right?

Jaune frowned as he thought about it.

So far, every world he'd been to had been inhabited, even the post-apocalyptic nuclear Wasteland... but he'd read enough comics to know the multiverse was really, really, really big; it was likely that he'd stumble into an uninhabited one eventually, right?

And so far he hadn't seen any signs of another person, perhaps save for the thing that'd been stalking him...

Jaune couldn't help but gulp uneasily, as he began to seriously contemplate the concept of being alone on some random world.

The last time he'd been alone for an extended period of time had been... Fuyuki, a few months ago; it'd taken him a week before he'd finally found Fuyuki City, and maybe another before Shiro had found him. But he'd been occupied with... other thoughts during that time, and hadn't really considered what he'd do if he hadn't been able to find anyone.

And now that he was thinking about it, he'd freely admit the idea of being stuck on this planet fighting off beasts until he died of old age (if something didn't get to him first) wasn't a pleasant one.

At the same time, however, what else could he do? Build a spaceship and escape if this world really was uninhabited?

Just as Jaune was trying to recall everything he'd seen in the alien mothership and heard from House (as well as weighing the pros and cons of risking an encounter with more unfriendly aliens), however, movement at the edge of the fire's glow caught his attention, and he immediately leapt to his feet and drew his sword, as the head of a massive beast emerged from the darkness.

Oddly enough, however, his Aura failed to warn him of any danger, and his experienced instincts told him something was off with the beast's movement. Of course, that might have been due to the fact that this was another world and the beasts just moved differently in this world, but the others he'd killed hadn't quite moved that awkwardly, and more importantly they wouldn't have slowly walked into his makeshift campsite just like that.

Then his Aura screamed at him, and the beast lunged forward through the air towards him.

Immediately Jaune moved, planting his feet and drawing his shield just in time to block its charge.

But even as its body crashed into his shield with a sickening crunch, Jaune found himself noticing that something was wrong.

For one thing, while still sizable, the beast wasn't quite as massive as it'd first appeared.

For another, the beast was completely covered in wounds and blood, and judging by the way its head had been bent into its body, it seemed that the impact of its collision with his shield had shattered its neck (along with a few of its other bones, if he had to guess, though he didn't take it for granted that it was dead (this was another world, after all), but considering it wasn't making any further attempts to attack him despite being right in front of him it was probably at least no longer a threat).

And lastly, despite the creature not having any limbs touching the ground, he could hear footsteps, footsteps from behind the creature (though it was heading towards his side).

And his Aura was still screaming at him.

As the beast began to lose inertia, and its body started to slump down, Jaune swung his shield in the direction of the footsteps, flinging its body off of his shield and towards whatever had initially thrown it at him.

The source of the footsteps didn't freeze as he countered its strategy, and instead he could hear it kicking off of the ground, presumably jumping over the makeshift projectile and towards him.

Jaune didn't hesitate either, and was already bringing his shield back up to bear even as he turned towards the source of the footsteps, before pausing as he caught his first sight of his attacker.

The thing that was leaping towards him was humanoid, like the figure he'd seen in the trees the previous day.

In fact, it was visually indistinguishable from a human.

Specifically, it was visually indistinguishable from a human woman.

Specifically, a human woman that was massive, easily a head taller than him, and was also almost as muscled as the Slayer herself.

He also noticed that the human woman, if it was indeed a human, was also very obviously a woman, and a very beautiful one at that (even despite all the dirt and blood covering her).

And he also noticed that it was very easy for him to notice all of those things, because the woman was naked.

If the woman hadn't been pouncing at him ferociously, Jaune would have averted his eyes and tried to give her a modicum of modesty.

As it stood, however, the woman was pouncing at him ferociously, and after a slight moment of hesitation, his instincts kicked back in, and he continued preparing to defend himself.

But where most foes he'd faced wouldn't have been able to even notice his momentary weakness , let alone take advantage of it, this woman didn't miss it.

And, as it turned out, she was faster than even the girl he'd just trained.

A heavy fist slammed into his hastily-raised shield before he'd fully been able to brace himself, with the kind of strength he'd have expected from Yang or the Slayer, and Jaune found himself getting sent flying backwards, knocked off his feet by the sheer force of a single blow, for the first time in this world… or two or so days.

And even as he bounced off of the ground, Jaune's other hand was already gripping Caliburn's hilt.

As the woman leapt at him, eager to capitalize on her momentary advantage, he drew his blade, and with a Shout of "WULD" all of his backwards momentum was suddenly cancelled out by an inexplicable otherworldly force that propelled his body forward instead, throwing him into the woman whilst she was in mid-air before she could react, and allowing him to drive Caliburn into her abdomen.

As Jaune stood up and caught his breath, he looked down at the woman on the ground beneath him where she struggled to free herself from the magical sword that was pinning her to the ground through her guts, and couldn't help the questions that raced through his mind as he studied her.

Who was she?

What was she?

Why had she attacked him?

And what was he supposed to do now?

Whoever she was, and whatever her motives may have been, what couldn't be denied was that she'd thrown the corpse of a massive creature at him and knocked him off of his feet with a single punch, and he was willing to bet that if he hadn't been able to defend himself she'd have killed him like she'd probably killed the beast she'd tossed at him.

But at the same time…

As Jaune hesitated once more, unsure of what he was supposed to do, he found himself meeting the woman's eyes.

Later, he'd rationalize his actions as having been the only logical choice; the woman's presence was a good sign that there were other people on this planet (assuming that she was indeed human), in which case killing her would make any peaceful interaction with them all but impossible, or if the woman was indeed alone then it was likely that she'd been surviving in this monster-infested planet for years on end, judging by her apparent age (unless she was of a similar species to the girl he'd met and trained in the previous world, and simply had accelerated growth), and he thus couldn't truly blame her for attempting to attack him, since she didn't know any better, and while he would kill in self-defence it didn't feel right to execute a helpless enemy

But in truth, it was the eyes.

As the woman's cold and piercing green orbs glared at him through long locks of dirt-and-blood-covered golden hair, he couldn't help but be uncomfortably reminded of Artoria as he'd last seen her, the Artoria of the Fuyuki Grail War.

The Artoria who'd summoned him to help her, who'd trusted him and relied on him to help her become a King.

The Artoria who he'd inadvertently hurt through his mistake.

The Artoria who'd blamed herself for his failure.

The Artoria that he hadn't truly been able to reconcile with, before Angra Mainyu had suddenly thrown him out of that world.

As much as Yang (the Dragonborn, at least) would've chastised him for being too soft…

… he just couldn't do it.

He just couldn't execute a woman who reminded him so much of his best friend in cold blood, especially not when she was also the only person he'd seen so far in this monster-filled forest of a world.

Then again, considering that last point it was also possible that he'd have hesitated regardless of whoever it was that had attacked him, as long as they'd just looked like a person.

Either way, he still couldn't help but feel extremely stupid as he reached for Caliburn's hilt with one hand while he tried to hold his other out in a placating manner and spoke in his best attempt at a reassuring voice: "Hey, relax, it's going to be okay…"

Naturally, the woman did not relax at his words or actions, but instead intensified her efforts to get free.

Jaune did his best to make it as quick as possible, pulling Caliburn out of the woman in one smooth movement even as he placed his other on the woman's arm and began channelling his Aura into her (he was also well aware that healing someone who'd just tried to kill him was probably beyond 'soft', but considering their surroundings and the grievous injuries he'd inflicted on her, simply leaving her that would have been no different from killing her himself), and before long the woman's struggles slowed, confusion creeping into the caution in her eyes as her wounds healed themselves right before her eyes.

Once Jaune was confident that his Aura had done his job, he slowly got up, withdrawing his hand from her arm, and tried to introduce himself to the woman: "Uh, sorry about that… anyway, my name's Jaune… what's yours? … can you even talk?"

The woman blinked up at him, as if struggling to comprehend his words, and Jaune couldn't help but wonder if this was the first she'd had a conversation in her life (or at least, as far as she could remember).

Then she got up and sprinted back into the forest.

Jaune couldn't stop the sigh that escaped from his mouth, not even bothering to try and stop her.

At least she hadn't tried to attack him again, though; Jaune chose to take that as an encouraging sign, even as he turned his attention back to the now-messed-up clearing.

-ABOUT A MONTH OR SO (OR THREE CHAPTERS) LATER-

As Jaune poked and prodded at the fire in front of him, he couldn't help but wonder if he was slowly going crazy.

It wasn't like anyone could blame him (or if there was even anyone to blame him); he'd died, what, half a dozen times, and been to maybe ten different worlds by now? Surely that kind of experience would take its toll on anyone, right?

And even if dying wasn't a big deal, he'd been stuck in this forest for about a month, with barely any human contact!

In light of that, it was perfectly understandable that he was looking forward to the wild woman's occasional attempts to murder him… right?

After all, it wasn't like she could actually kill him…

…

Jaune's shoulders slumped as he sighed.

He was definitely going crazy, if he wasn't just looking forward to someone attempting to kill him, but if he was also taking it for granted that she couldn't kill him.

After all, not only was he just, well, him, and not only did the woman have physical strength to rival the Slayer and speed that could rival Ruby Rose's, but she was also learning from each and every fight - in their second fight, she'd wielded a log as a club and tried to match Caliburn blow for blow (fortunately his Aura also protected Caliburn), their third fight had seen her attempt to take him down from afar by pelting him with rocks after she'd realized he could slice through just about anything in the forest…

… and there'd been maybe another ten more fights since the rock-throwing one…

He was still able to defend himself, of course (he'd been trained by Pyr, Yang, the Slayer, and Artoria and Kay, and had fought against vampires, dragons, deathclaws, demons, and Angra Mainyu), but he also knew how easily over-confidence could get one killed (and he was definitely not in a position to get cocky).

On the other hand, though, he did seem to be having some positive impact on the woman too; while she still didn't respond to his attempts at communication (he still wasn't even sure that she could talk, to be honest), she didn't seem quite so eager to kill him as during their first meeting (despite getting better at it, ironically enough), and more than once he'd noticed her skulking around the edges of his makeshift temporary camps, simply watching him from the outskirts (though that could also be so she could study him to learn how to better kill him), before disappearing back into the forest if he tried to approach her.

Which was why he'd begun trying a different approach.

"Man, this sure does remind me of my time in Camelot," Jaune mused out loud as he tended to the fire, doing his best to sound as nonchalant and casual as possible even as he kept an ear out for any signs of movement (especially in the direction of the plate of cooked meat he'd 'accidentally' left at the edge of the camp). "Those were some fun times; learning swordplay with Sir Kay and Artoria, watching Merlin be… well… Merlin…"

A complete lack of response greeted him as he paused naturally between sentences, and it was with no small amount of effort that he forced himself to continue seemingly talking to himself: "For six months we wandered across the land, as the first of Artoria's knightly order, helping all those in need while she learned what it truly meant, being the King and ruler of the land…"

Sure, he could have just spoken nonsensical gibberish; even if the woman was listening to him now he still didn't know if she could understand him, and the main goal of this was just to desensitize her to his voice and presence (at least, according to what little he could remember from the books he'd read). But speaking actual sentences was probably better for his sanity than just making random noises with his mouth, and remembering his friends and companions gave him some strength and comfort, as he recalled what they'd done together, recalled those heroes that he'd journeyed with.

He may never have been able to match their strength or their deeds, but at the very least he wouldn't disappoint them by losing it and giving up here and now.

And so he continued to talk, recounting the adventures he'd had with Artoria and Kay, before finally stopping after what felt like hours and turning towards the food he'd left at the edge of the camp.

Encouragingly, it was completely gone.

Jaune could only smile, hoping that the woman had heard most of his words even if she couldn't understand any of them, as he quietly remembered to move the food a bit closer to the camp next time.

Come to think of it, it had been over two days since she'd last attacked him, and for a moment he wondered how she'd try to kill him the next time.

Those carefree thoughts lasted until they were banished by a sudden loud roar shattering the (relatively) peaceful silence of the forest.

Subject Number One, meanwhile (or "First", or "the wild woman",as she'd been most recently called), glared at the massive tainted beast as it slithered up towards her fallen form, her post-human mind racing all the while.

Even though both the genetic instincts encoded within her and her territorial nature as a top predator in this forest demanded that the corrupted abomination before her needed to be wiped out, all of the survival instincts she'd developed during her time in said forest warned her that she had no way of even escaping the beast's gaze, let alone slaying it, not after it had already landed a lucky blow on her chest with its spiked tail.

Not alone, at least, Duelist…

First growled, the sudden whispers triggering her threat response just as surely as the creature before her.

And yet, even as the creature continued to take its time to approach her, its eyes gleaming with sadistic amusement while it thrashed its tail closer and closer towards her, she couldn't figure out a way out of the situation she was in.

All you have to do, is accept our help, First…

Baring her teeth, she snarled at the creature even as she propped herself up, refusing to go down without a fight; that was how she'd survived her time in this forest, and she refused to die now.

And then someone stumbled out of the bushes and across her and the beast, and a familiar voice exclaimed: "Holy shit!"

Immediately the wyrm turned its attention towards the newcomer and spread its wings wide as it could even as it hissed at him and rattled the numerous metallic feathers covering its body..

And the person that she'd been watching and fighting inexplicably ignored its entire display as he instead sprinted to her side, before placing a hand on her body.

Though she'd spent days listening to him talk (she'd realized rather quickly that his words were targeted at her, but she'd listened anyway, initially in case he accidentally let slip a weakness of his, or a strategy or tactic she could use to finally take him down, and eventually because there just wasn't much else for her to do), she hadn't truly been able to understand them, the ideas and ideals carried by his words, not with the only frame of reference she had being her years in these forests.

She couldn't understand why he healed her again (just as she couldn't understand why he'd healed her instead of killing her during their first encounter), even though she attacked him whenever she could.

She couldn't understand why he raised his sword and shield to confront the tainted monster head-on, even though he could have easily walked away or escaped, or even used her as bait before striking it whilst it was distracted.

She couldn't understand why, after he finally slew the beast, and the stored foul energies in its body were unleashed in a howling, laughing, cataclysmic vortex, did he leap in front of her to block its touch instead of simply running away.

And after the maw in reality consumed itself and disappeared, and took him with it, there was nobody around who could explain it to her

-BARBARUS-

As the teenage girl lowered the cloth covering her face, and sucked in the deepest breath she could manage, she couldn't help but laugh, revelling in the sweetness of the air.

So this was what fresh air tasted like…

More importantly, she'd done it!

She'd actually done it!

She'd finally escaped from the tower, from her prison (for a gilded cage was still a cage, no matter how luxurious)...

… she'd finally run away from the only home she'd ever known…

Even now, she could still hear her adoptive father's cruel voice in the mists above, his furious roars of vengeance and promises that she was dead if she ever returned echoing throughout the mountains.

But she couldn't help it; there'd just been something, something about the inhabitants of the valleys below the fogs, something about the bodies that Necare harvested every few weeks for material to be used for his endless wars against the other Overlords of the planets, something that had just bugged her relentlessly, like an itch she couldn't quite reach.

And even though her adoptive father had been the one to encourage her curiosity and nurture her keen intellect, even though he'd taught her everything she knew from battle doctrine to arcane knowledge to artifice to the sciences, he'd absolutely refused to tell her anything about the fragile creatures the Overlords used as fodder for their experiments and their armies, not even when she'd seen other Overlords harvesting them while returning from a battle.

In the end, she knew that Necare would never compromise on the subject, just as she also knew that, for some reason she couldn't quite explain, she just needed to know more about them, these inhabitants of the valleys, and so she'd finally affected her escape.

Admittedly, though, she hadn't quite expected her adoptive father to accuse her of treachery and disown her; sure, she'd had to kill quite a few guards during her escape, but considering what he'd taught her it wasn't like they had even been alive anymore…

Mortarion took another deep breath, allowing the sweet smell of fresh air to fill her head again, before she shook off such melancholic thoughts.

Even if she'd underestimated his response, she'd still known Necare wouldn't have been pleased by her actions (and she'd known that her punishment if she'd been caught would have been slow and painful even by his standards), and she'd made her choice all the same regardless.

She would not second-guess herself, not now that she'd already left, and been disowned and exiled on pain of death.

All she could do now (and, thus, what she would do), was continue her course, and learn about the mysterious valley-dwellers.

And to do that, first she had to find them.

Her resolve steeled, she began to make her way further down the mountain, eager to finally meet them.

A few minutes later, she came across an unconscious figure on the floor, a blonde-haired figure who looked oh so similar to the figure she saw every time she used a mirror.

-SIX WEEKS LATER-

The pale sun shone faintly somewhere above him as he ploughed the fields, its light just barely able to break through the fog perpetually blanketing the sky, and as he took a step back to examine his handiwork, Jaune couldn't help but wonder, not for the first time, just what in Oum's name he was even doing.

Frankly, between the dim sunlight and the fact that most of the air on this world was toxic, he was surprised that humanity (well, normal regular people like him, at least) was even able to exist here.

Then again, though, considering the Wasteland had been populated as well, maybe he shouldn't have been so surprised, and it wasn't like the people here were exactly thriving; even with all of the lessons he'd learned from Remnant, the Wasteland, and Camelot, as well as his Aura-enhanced strength and endurance (not to mention the superhuman strength and endurance of the woman who'd stumbled across him when he'd first arrived), he couldn't help but feel like they were barely making a difference in the lives of the people here.

Of course, there was a world of a difference between "barely making a difference" and "not making a difference", and after the past few weeks of proving themselves as useful and productive members of society they'd been accepted as part of the community.

And speaking of the other person who'd finally proven herself…

Jaune met the sunken yellow eyes of the tall and lanky (to put it nicely) woman as she reaped the grains they'd grown with a scythe easily two heads taller than he was, and gave her a smile and a wave in greeting, a gesture that she returned with a small nod.

Jaune simply shook his head as the woman looked away, returning to his work. Perhaps, when they'd first met, he might have mistaken her blunt and taciturn demeanor as unfriendliness, but after having gotten to know her he'd quickly realized that Mortarion was, to put it simply, as much of a social butterfly as Ruby and Blake combined (from Team RWBY, not Ironwood and d'Arc).

He would freely admit, though, that when the pair had first met (just after he'd been spat out onto this world from that forest), he'd been slightly startled by her appearance; a pallid and gaunt figure towering over someone who'd just woken up would've been enough to scare anyone, after all.

Even now, though, there were still things about Mortarion that were a mystery to him; for starters, she'd known just as little about the villages in the valleys as he had (which was pretty concerning considering she'd grown up on this world while he'd only been there for a few seconds back then), and while she refused to open up about her past (based on what he could tell she really didn't want to talk about it), from what he could gather she'd somehow grown up among the poisonous mists in the mountains above them.

That, combined with her appearance, had caused quite a few issues for Mortarion when they'd first arrived at the village - the superstitious villagers had been afraid of the tall, gaunt, and pale stranger who'd come from a region utterly inhospitable to humans, a place that the villagers only talked about in hushed whispers, as if afraid that even speaking about it might bring misfortune.

He also wasn't quite sure how much of what he did overhear was just baseless superstition, and how much he could actually trust; in most places whisper of pale monsters with the faces of the dead dragging whole villages away would be considered a fairytale, but he had fought vampires and necromancers before…

Not for the first time, he felt the temptation to leave the village rising within him. After all, as peaceful and quiet as life in this village had been so far (he'd never once needed to draw his sword or use his Aura in the time he'd been here)… this wasn't what he'd run away from home to do, and just like in Fuyuki city he found himself beginning to feel… bored.

And not for the first time, he forced that thought out of his mind, refusing to seriously consider it.

Sure, Mortarion didn't really need him to mediate between her and the villagers anymore, and their upcoming harvest would probably be more than sufficient, but what else was he supposed to do, leave the village to explore mountains perpetually blanketed in poisonous clouds, on the off-chance that the rumors of undead monsters were actually true?

Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to the field, already raising his hoe.

And then he felt a faint tremor, and heard something shuffling in the mists above.

The local villagers around them didn't waste any time, any movement, any breath; those who could, lifted anything within arms reach, whether it was a torch, a scythe, a hammer, or even just a rotting wooden plank, while those who couldn't ran to hide behind whatever cover they could find.

And just as the makeshift militia finished forming up, the first of the undead monsters shambled out of the fog.

Jaune didn't even feel surprised that the stories of undead monsters living (for lack of a better term) in the mountains was actually true.

Instead, as more and more began to reveal themselves, lurching clumsily towards the vastly-outnumbered defenders, Jaune's mind did a simple calculation.

While he wasn't sure just how strong a zombie in this world was, he highly doubted that the villagers could hold them all off with their crude weapons.

At least, not on their own.

Jaune quickly glanced at Mortarion, who was gripping her scythe so tightly he could almost see the wood splintering beneath her fingers as she stared at the undead legion approaching, before sighing and reaching for Caliburn.

-FIVE MONTHS LATER-

"Do not worry, I understand," Mortarion reassured her third-in-command as she looked over the remains of the ruined breathing apparatus their scouts had recovered from the test suit. "We will hold off the final assault until the new suits can withstand the toxins above. Until then, we shall continue to hold our positions around the High Overlord's final fortress."

Calas Typhon nodded, barely hiding his sigh of relief, before turning around to deliver the news to the rest of the Death Guard (for they followed the Deathlord, and they guarded their people from those who would deny them even the cold comfort of Death).

As he left, Mortarion released a sigh of her own, before looking back up to the highest peak of Barbarus, where Necare was surely also preparing for their final battle as well.

Before she could brood on her thoughts any further, however, the voice of her second-in-command broke her concentration as he softly asked: "... are you sure you can do this?"

"Do you doubt that I can face the High Overlord?" Mortarion turned to face Jaune, raising an eyebrow. "Our smiths grow more skilled by the day, and he has nowhere else to flee to. Our confrontation is inevitable."

"That's not what I meant," Jaune shook his head. "I meant… he's your father, isn't he?"

"Adoptive," Mortarion bristled, fixing Jaune with the sternest glare that she could manage. Seeing that it had no effect on him, however (it never did), she murmured in resignation: "I knew I shouldn't have told you about it back then…"

"Look, Mortarion…" Jaune tried again, concernedly reaching for Mortarion's shoulder.

Mortarion didn't shake off his hand like she would have anyone else, but her voice was still cold as she demanded: "Then, do you doubt that I will do what must be done?"

"No… but that doesn't mean it'll be easy."

"Do you think me weak, Jaune?" Mortarion challenged.

"I think you're human, Mortarion," Jaune pointed out, meeting her yellow eyes.

A few moments passed, as the two looked at each other, before Mortarion broke eye contact as she reiterated: "Regardless of our former relationship, he is the tyrant responsible for the deaths of countless innocents, and a monster who would force our people back into the mud; I will do what must be done."

And before he could say anything else, she forcibly changed the subject: "More importantly, I would like to once again discuss your reliance on your witchcraft."

Having long since given up on explaining that his Aura was not witchcraft or magic, Jaune simply asked: "Do you think I could just choose not to have it?"

"You could choose not to use it," Mortarion rebutted. "You hardly need it anyway, not with your skill with a blade."

Jaune could only sigh, knowing full well that this discussion, one they'd had countless times since she'd learned of his Aura, when he'd first used it all those months ago, was more to distract him from their previous topic than to change his mind.

"I know you've done much good with it," Mortarion conceded as she laid her hand on Jaune's own, before she continued: "But…"

As she doubled down on her attempts to warn him off of using Aura, Jaune wasn't sure if even she knew she was stubbornly repeating the same thing as much to avoid thinking about facing her father as out of concern for his well-being.

A few hours later, a furious Mortarion rushed up the highest peaks of Barbarus in an experimental, already-corroding suit of armor, swearing to make her friend pay if he wasn't already dead from trying to face Necare on his own.

-NOSTRAMO-

It was a dark day, in the most literal sense.

The cold, dim light of the dying star was forever blocked from Nostramo by its synchronicity with its moon, Tenebor, and what little did make it through couldn't penetrate the clouds of pollution that blanketed the planet.

Whatever people that managed to survive on the planet's surface did so by eking out a living from mining and processing the massive deposits of adamantium within the planet's crust, an industry that undoubtedly did little to diminish the industrial emissions smothering their home.

And at the top, overseeing these industries from the summit of the hive cities' gleaming spires (because only they could actually afford artificial illumination for extended periods of time), was the planetary elite, an aristocracy that had enriched themselves for generations off of shipping the adamantium to other planets.

Beneath them was the closest thing the planet had to law enforcement - criminal (albeit not illegal, since nobody really wrote laws on Nostramo) gangs that did the bidding of the elites and enforced the words and whims of both their noble (by birth if not demeanor) masters and themselves (in that specific order) by any and all means necessary.

And below the thugs was the most populated strata of Nostraman society - the multitudes of foundry workers and miners that served as the backbone of Nostramo's industry, who eked out a miserable, gruelling, and short existence in general. To live as an average Nostraman citizen was to endure a life of abject poverty and persistent clinical depression, living in near-total darkness while being preyed on by one's betters, before typically ending in suicide if one actually survived all of the aforementioned hurdles (indeed, the suicide rate was the only thing needed to prevent overpopulation from being an issue for Nostramo, despite the scarcity of resources).

And under them, as was present in every hive city in the galaxy, were the underhives, even more desolate areas where feral animals, mutants, and possibly a few xenos alike warred for whatever few resources fell from the spires above.

And somewhere beneath Nostramo Quintus's underhive, in a place that hadn't seen any light in millennia, something crawled out an abandoned mineshaft.

The thing had been forced out of the only home it had known all this time, yes, but it hadn't been because it had lost its territory to a superior predator.

It had simply exhausted the local food supply, and the hunger pangs caused by its empty stomach had driven it on in search of new prey.

And as it stalked through the empty decrepit alleys, it finally found something.

A warm body lay on the ground before it, clad in some odd coverings, groaning in pain as it twitched and stirred.

Refusing to give its prey the chance to recover and defend itself, the figure leapt out of the shadows, intent on ripping its throat out immediately.

-BAAL SECUNDUS-

"I don't understand," the massive winged woman bitterly complained to her companion as she slumped tiredly against the wall onto the hard floor, once they were alone in the privacy of their personal dwelling (one of the many unnecessary comforts the impoverished tribesmen had forced onto them, though in this case she couldn't complain). "Why do they always insist on trying to worship me?! I keep telling them, I'm not a god!"

"Well, can you really blame them?" Jaune rhetorically asked his fellow blue-eyed blonde, before raising his hands placatingly, as she shot him a wounded look, and pointing out: "I mean, look at it from their point of view, right? You're twice their size, can fly, and have not only been defending them against the mutant hordes, but you've also been doing such a good job that the other tribes have begun to peacefully unite with yours. Considering everything they know, what else are they supposed to think?"

"It still doesn't feel right, being treated like something I'm not," Sanguinia frowned, before looking back at the odd man she'd found in the nuclear deserts of this world a year ago, just before they'd been picked up by their current tribe. Leaning forward towards him, she casually rested her folded arms on her comfortably-raised knees as she asked: "... you said you were on a world much like this during your previous travels, correct?"

"You mean, a post-apocalyptic nuclear wasteland filled with people just trying to survive?" Jaune raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," Sanguinia answered, nesting her head within her arms, and with a sideways glance up at him she continued on: "Did anything similar ever happen to you? Did the locals ever treat you like a god?"

"Oh, I'm pretty sure that's never happened," Jaune snorted, shaking his head in sheer disbelief at the very ludicrousness of anybody mistaking him for something divine.

-NOCTURNE-

"Oh, great, you guys again," Jaune groaned in utter exasperation, as barges packed with familiar lanky, pointy-eared elf-like aliens came into view.

Last time he'd seen them, when they'd attacked that world of darkness, he hadn't been able to help but wonder if their presence meant there was a way to see that girl again, the girls from the mountain.

This time, however, he wouldn't allow himself to be distracted by what they could represent, not when he knew what they were.

"Dusk Wraiths," the woman next to him spat, before turning back to him and apologizing: "Forgive my poor reception, outlander, but I fear that we have pressing concerns at the moment…"

In truth, though, she honestly couldn't tell if the odd outlander before her was unfortunate that he'd been caught up in the retaliatory strike that she'd known was coming, or fortunate in that they'd found him alone in the deserts before the Dusk Wraiths had; at least now he had a chance of survival.

And then, to her surprise, he waved her apology off as he casually said: "Don't worry, I get it. Interdimensional alien invaders or something, right?"

Vulkan blinked, before tentatively confirming: "You've… seen them before?"

"A few times," Jaune sighed and nodded, already drawing his sword. "Don't worry, I'll help you deal with them."

And before Vulkan could ask what he meant, the crazy outlander was already leaping off of the wall, charging straight at the nearest Dusk Wraith barge, a sight so absurd that even her posthuman mind had to spend three whole heartbeats confirming what she'd just seen.

And then she grinned, grabbed her pair of blacksmith hammers, and charged at them as well.

-DULAN-

Even as the Tyrant's palace burned, and the few remaining praetorian guards in the throneroom were slaughtered to a man trying to avenge his death, the Lion simply, impassively, stared at his head, removed from the rest of his ancient and hideous body by a single swing of the sword her Father had gifted her after their reunion.

For such a frail and stubborn man, and for a man that had attempted to poison her mind with doubt and uncertainty, she would not deny that Durath did deserve, at the very least, a modicum of respect and honor.

For starters, he had endured Old Night, even though it had left him a hollow and monstrous parody of immortality, kept alive only by the daily labor of a hundred surgeons, and not only endured but formed a society that spanned multiple star systems and had been able to blunt the assault of the Wolves themselves, even with Russ leading them at the front.

And beyond that?

When she and her hand-picked Paladins had teleported into his throne room, it had been to see the enthroned ancient refusing to flee, even despite the pleading of his courtiers and guards, begging him to risk the uncertainty of the ancient xenos artefact they'd been trying to activate over the certain death that awaited him should he stay.

And when she had approached, he had met her eyes without fear, and when she had finally given up on diplomacy, drawn her sword and pronounced her ultimatum, he had drawn a dagger with infirm hands, and met his end with dignity.

It was truly a waste; had he been less stubborn, more willing to understand the new order, to bend knee to the changing winds of history, there would have likely been a new role for him to play in the coming age, a place for him in the Imperium of Man.

Sheathing her sword with a sigh, she began to set the severed head down, already preparing to broadcast the news of the Tyrant of Dulan's death to the rest of the planet.

And then the doors at the far end of the chamber slammed open, booming through the linked rooms and gusting out the candle-flames, and Russ emerged, brooding with incipient menace, flanked by her wolves, her warriors, and together they spilled into the Tyrant's sanctum, armed and armored and radiating naked aggression.

Russ was no exception, carrying her unsheathed chainsword openly as she stalked towards her sister.

"Sister," Russ began with an icy growl. "Tell me, do the oaths of Caliban mean nothing to you at all? Or do you think it safe to jest with the Wolves of Fenris, for whom the word of promise is held faster than the clutch of death?'

Her Paladins immediately began to take up a defensive cordon around her, but as tempted as she was to let them, she still waved them down, knowing full well that putting them between her and a furious Russ was just risking their lives unnecessarily.

Instead, as her sister approached, flanked by her own honor guard, the Lion bluntly replied: "You were too slow; we could not wait forever."

"You swore it!" Russ roared, swinging her blade around emphatically as she closed in on Lion, climbing up the steps to the throne whilst her warriors remained at the base. "You swore it in your name, and the name of Caliban and of your legion, and you still came between the Wolf and her prey!"

The Lion didn't take a step back as Russ halted in front of her, so close that she might have smelled her breath if not for the protection of her own winged helmet, but instead stood firm as her sister glared between her and Durath's head.

And even though her patience with Russ and the Wolves had already been worn thin thanks to their initial actions during the void battles above Dulan, even though it was all she could do to not roll her eyes at her sister (knowing Russ, she probably could have picked it up even behind her helmet, and take it as yet another sign of provocation), she still tried to show some restraint, quietly whispering a rebuke: "You should stand down now, sister; these theatrics serve no purpose."

"But they do," Russ laughed humorlessly as she leaned forward, such that only Lion could hear her words again. "They are what make us, define us in the eyes of others. I submitted aboard your ship, in full view of yours, for the wrong was of mine, but I cannot yield on this, the Emperor's Executioners being knowingly denied their hunt by a girl with as little patience as she has honor!

"Would you stand down now, Lion, were the situation reversed?" Russ challenged in a louder tone, raising her voice for the benefit of their (mostly her) warriors. "After being openly taunted in front of your own sons by a sister who'd just reneged on her oath to you? Would you?"

The Lion took a look around at the gathered men, each a hand-picked veteran of the many solar decades of war they'd both experienced, all watching the two superhuman sisters intently, and they both knew the answer.

As different as the two were, as different as their concepts of honor were (the Wolf Queen's came from embracing the savage ways of Fenris, while the Lion's came from rejecting the savagery of Caliban's forests and attempting to understand his ways)… fundamentally speaking, they were both creatures of honor.

And they both recognized it.

"What would you have me do?" Lion asked in a soft whisper, taking no small amount of joy in seeing the briefest look of surprise flicker on Russ's face.

Of course, as a Primarch, she recovered quickly, before any of the gathered could notice the change in her expression, and after a moment's thought suggested (with ever so slightly less heat than before): "Would you openly admit your wrong to me, before our gathered legions?"

"Impossible," Lion immediately denied it. "A public apology for ending the campaign with less time and lives spent? In front of all our sons?"

"If you had not taunted me earlier it could have been settled in private," Russ pointed out, glancing at the onlookers.

"It was never meant to be a taunt," the Lion sighed.

"Perhaps you should start paying more attention to how others view you as well, Lion," Russ suggested sardonically, though her tone then softened as she explained: "Regardless of my personal feelings, if my Wolves do not believe the slights to my honor corrected here and now, they will forever nurse a grudge against your sons, one that I know yours will repay in kind. I do not wish for there to be any further bad blood between our Legions, especially not after the Rangdan, sister."

"Then do you have a solution that can satisfy both of our honors in front of our sons?" Lion inquired in a whisper.

"... I might have something…" Russ admitted after a moment's thought. "Would I be right in assuming that Caliban also has a culture of honor duels?"

"Of course," Lion nodded, before raising an eyebrow. "Here and now?"

"Would you rather do it in front of the rest of the men?" Russ pointed out, a feral grin already beginning at the edge of her lips. "The campaign's all but ended, and to be honest I've always wished to test my blade against yours, First."

"Well, don't hold your defeat against me, Russ," Lion riposted, her tone as serious as ever, though her lips too were beginning to quirk upwards behind her helmet in anticipation.

"Speaking too soon, aren't you, girl?" Russ snorted, before instructing her: "Now, insult my honor so that we may begin this, Lion."

"What, you need the first blow, too?" Lion teased.

"I am the hot-headed one; it will be much more convincing this way," Russ explained.

"Fair point,' Lion conceded, before injecting just enough condescension into her tone as she accidentally raised her voice, and in a serious tone advised: "Perhaps you need to hold a firmer grip on your wolves, Russ; not all of us are without friends in the Palace, and I'm sure you of all would know that Legions can be sanctioned, if not worse."

Russ erupted with a howl of fury that caught the surrounding men off-guard, and before the Lion's Paladins could react the Lion was already staggering back into Durath's throne, the blow to her breastplate too swift for them to even notice.

"Speak not of things you don't understand, girl," Russ growled, radiating heat like a star as she pointed the tip of her frost blade Krakenmaw towards the Lion in challenge. "All-Father help me, you're as ignorant as you are arrogant!"

In response, the Lion simply rose back to her feet, the Lion Sword already unsheathed and in her hands, and there was an ice in her tone, cold as a Fenrisian winter, as she spat: "Very well, then; we'll communicate in a way you can actually understand, sister."

The two began circling one another warily, never taking their eyes away from the other, before Russ, ever the aggressive one, launched the next strike, swinging her chainsword across at her sister, a strike that the Lion met two-handed, parrying the blow away from her with ease.

Then the two matched blades against each other, testing each other's strength, and sparks flew and metal screeched against metal as the whirring chainteeth of Krakenmaw met the immaculate edge of the Lion Sword, neither finding the advantage.

At the sight of true fighting breaking out, Russ's warriors began to holler and roar, shouting encouragement at their Primarch and jeers at the Lion, and in general just generating a chaotic cacophony of noise in support of their liege.

The Lion's Paladins were slower to respond, but to their credit when they finally did react to the duel between the two Primarchs they were no softer than their Einherjar counterparts despite numbering twenty less men, an act which in turn invigorated the Wolves to vie with their Dark Angel cousins to see which group could shout the loudest, competitively cheering for their respective gene-mothers in an echo of their own duel in the middle.

Meanwhile, having gotten the measure of one another from locking their blades, the Lion chose to break away first, though Russ quickly followed, and the pair began trading blows, each heavy swing carrying enough force to cleave over a dozen Legionaries apart, and as the two blades met each other a dozen times in a single heartbeat the echoes of their clashes produced enough sound to drown out even the cries of their gene-sons as their excited cheers reached a crescendo.

And even as the legionnaires present struggled to follow the battle (veterans of countless battles they may have all been, but none had ever seen their masters driven to such an extent, and the two fought less like champion duelists and more like godlike forces of nature clashing, at speeds few mortals could even comprehend let alone catch), Lion and Russ continued to duel.

Russ was the stronger of the pair by a fraction, and her blows were powered with greater weight and momentum, but Lion was the more dexterous of the pair by a fraction, and she angled her parries and thrusts to try and catch Russ off-balance whenever she could, and the two ceaselessly continued in their struggle, evenly-matched as they were.

But finally, after minutes of hacking and slashing and stabbing and striking, after the two had accumulated a score of dents and rends on their armor, the Lion managed to lure Russ with a feint before striking upwards, wrenching the frost blade from her sister's hands as she tried to counter her false blow and sending it clattering away behind her Paladins (who were forced to dodge the deadly projectile) even as the Wolf Queen reached for it.

For a moment, with Russ disarmed, the Lion dared to hope and believe that this would have been the end of this fight; as exciting and exhilarating as she found duelling with her sister to be, the main purpose of this entire farce had been to end the campaign in a way that both of their legions could be satisfied.

Then she found herself suddenly being carried in the air, as Russ barged head-first into her and charged, before she found herself being smashed into a nearby pillar.

The column of pure stone, easily a metre thick, had been standing for as long as the palace had, and had countlessly endured much in the time since it had been erected.

The force of the Wolf Queen, and the body of the Lion, utterly demolished it, and as the Lion reeled from the impact Russ launched an uppercut at her that connected with her chin, ripping her helmet off of her head and sending it flying away, before gripping her and flinging her away into yet another pillar.

As the Lion staggered to her feet and shook off the disorientation (as well as some stray pieces of rubble), and she saw the Wolf approaching her with empty fists, she couldn't help but remember all the times she'd faced savage beasts, monsters who needed nothing more than their natural gifts to tear a man apart.

She remembered all of the filthy xenos she'd exterminated, and the gene-crafted abominations of peoples desperate to survive Old Night.

Then she remembered her life among the Knightly Orders of Caliban, a much simpler time, when all that mattered was one planet and one people, and the countless Great Beasts that she'd purged from the forests.

And lastly, she remembered the times before she'd been found by Luther, the times she'd never told anyone about, not even her Father when he'd found her.

Unlike before, however, this time it was she who was facing down the savage unarmed Primarch with a sword.

… was this how he felt, when he'd faced her in those forests, all those solar decades ago?

Honestly, though, even after all this time, his existence was still an enigma to her; for starters, even ignoring all of the post-human abilities he'd been able to display, neither Luther nor any of the other Orders on Caliban knew anything about a blonde swordsman named "Jaune", despite all of his talk of knights and chivalry, despite how maddeningly similar it all was to her later upbringing.

Then the Wolf Queen was upon her once more, heavy fists pounding against metal as she blocked the barrage of blows with the flat of her blade, and as the Lion grit her teeth and did her best to not kill her sister, a small part of her couldn't help but idly think that this was the part where he'd have used his shield instead.

But she didn't have one, and so she instead opted to swing her sword sideways between them, a great sweeping blow that Russ jumped back to avoid, before the Wolf Queen quickly raised her hands and barely caught the pommel of the Lion Sword that her sister had suddenly hammered towards her face with bone-shattering force.

And as the two Primarchs began to wrestle over the power blade, and the gathered warriors continued to cheer, behind them something happened that none of them could have expected.

The ancient and inert xenos artefact that Durath's scientists had tried (and seemingly failed) to activate, forgotten in the wake of the Wolf's fury and her subsequent duel with the Lion, suddenly came to life in a burst of eldritch energies.

It was just for the briefest of instants, a fraction of a second too infinitesimal for even the post-human senses of the gathered Astartes to even notice let alone react to, but the two Primarchs at least were able to catch the moment that the ancient Aeldari device spat out a humanoid figure, before crumbling away, refusing to give the intruder any chance to re-enter.

"Ugh…" the blonde-haired figure groaned, doing his best to fight off the ever-familiar sensation of nausea that accompanied dimensional travel as he instead stumbled to his feet, trying to figure out what in Oum's name had happened and where he was this time.

The last thing he remembered was chasing after those damned pointy-eared alien elves (or Dusk Wraiths, as the black giant had called them), jumping aboard one of their flying ships just as it had fled into one of those spiky triangular gates of theirs, and then, after fighting his way out and going back into the portal from where he'd entered… he'd come out to here.

Wherever here was.

Russ, for her part, had absolutely no idea what to make of the situation. After all, it wasn't everyday that an honor duel between siblings gets interrupted by a random seemingly-human figure suddenly materializing out of a xenos artefact, and so she turned to the Lion, to ask if she had any thoughts on this (and maybe ask if they could postpone their brawl for just a few minutes to resolve the matter).

That's when she saw it.

The Lion, the perfect First Primarch, the ever-composed, eternally-stoic, always-taciturn sister that she and the Imperium knew, wore a look of utter shock on her ashen face, so blatant that even Dorn's sons would have noticed it had they been present, as she released her grip on her sword.

The Lion, a duelist and swordswoman on par with Fulgrim, Sanguinius, and Russ herself, actually released her grip.

On her sword.

That, more than anything else, told her just how shaken her sister was.

Then, not even a heartbeat after he'd suddenly appeared, the veterans' instincts and training kicked in, and as one over a hundred Astartes Legionnaires raised their blades and levelled their bolters at the unexpected intruder, who looked more nervous and exasperated at the sight than actually terrified (as any sane mortal would have been when facing down over a hundred power-armored giants at least a full head taller than himself) even as he raised his hands non-threateningly (though Russ could see from how tense his arms were that he was prepared to reach for the sword on his hip, though what good he thought it'd do him was beyond her).

A tense, silent moment followed, as both parties watched each other, waiting for someone to make the first move.

Then the Lion began moving, the duel, her blade, and her sister and sons gone from her mind, pushing through the throng of Astartes as she approached the stranger with unsteady steps, before she stopped right in front of him.

And as the massive blonde woman stared down at Jaune, seemingly scrutinizing him intently, so too was Jaune studying the person who'd approached him.

The first thought he'd had, as he'd spotted her ornate armor and the messy blonde hair and striking green eyes on her face, was that he'd found Artoria (or another Artoria) again, but a closer look revealed the lack of a certain unruly lock of hair that would've marked her out to have been the Artoria he'd known.

And yet, the woman looked familiar, and more importantly seemed to recognize him.

But the only other person he could think of would've been that feral woman from the forest, who probably wouldn't have been armed or armored, and who would've definitely just rammed her fist through his chest instead of simply approaching him slowly.

Finally, the woman spoke first, her tone flat and serious as she asked him: "... are you… Jaune?"

"... I am," Jaune simply nodded, unsure of how he was supposed to react. Clearly, the woman knew him, or at least of him (unless she'd encountered some other version of him that looked identical, but he pointedly refused to consider that possibility; the multiverse was already confusing enough as it was). And so, after eliminating the possibilities he could, he took a gamble: "... are you… that woman from the forest?"

"..." Lion closed her eyes for a moment, also thinking about how to respond. On one hand, she really didn't talk about that time of her life, but on the other, it wasn't like he would have known her from any other point in time besides that time (he didn't even know her name, after all!). Finally, after confirming to her satisfaction that the person in front of her was, indeed, him, and coming to terms with the fact, she nodded wordlessly.

Jaune blinked in surprise, before a sense of relief welled up within him. The good news was that this was a familiar face, and the better news was that she wasn't trying to kill him (at least, not yet). But on the other hand, it raised so many more questions, such as how long had it been since the forest?!

… Oum, was this going to be another Fuyuki situation?!

… well, considering the woman didn't seem to have visibly aged, he doubted that he was 1500 years in the future, at least…

In the end, after a few seconds of thinking, he chose to focus on more pressing concerns.

"So… uh… what's with…" Jaune awkwardly asked, jerking his chin in as non-threatening a manner as he could manage towards the large group of power-armored giants still pointing their weapons at him.

Fortunately, despite her reputation as a brutish savage, Russ was a lot quicker on the uptake than most (even for a Primarch), and she began wading her way through the crowds even as she waved the Lion Sword around and barked sharply: "Stand down, warriors! Stand down! Clearly this newcomer's known to the Lion; am I correct, sister?"

Lion looked up, meeting her sister's eyes, and gave Russ an appreciative glance before addressing her own men with her usual sonorous tones: "Stand down; this man is not a stranger to me."

The gathered men, the Einherjar and the Paladins, exchanged confused and uneasy glances within themselves and amongst each other, neither Legion quite sure of what to make of it, but eventually they did reluctantly lower their weapons, trusting the Primarchs (at least, their respective ones) to have the situation in hand.

Russ nodded with approval, before looking Lion and the newcomer over once more, as curiosity welled up within her. Just who was this person, to elicit such a response from the Lion of all people?

Well, regardless of her interest, as the elder sister there was something she could do for the Lion.

"Alright, alright, clear the room," Russ instructed the gathered men while returning the power sword to its owner. "For Allfather's sake, give them some privacy, alright?"

Some of the wolves snickered at the implications, but the Angels bristled at receiving instruction from someone who'd just tried to kill their Primarch barely a minute ago, and one of them began to protest: "But, my liege…"

"Do as the Wolf Quuen says, Alajos," Lion confirmed with a nod, before suggesting: "The campaign may be all but over, but there are likely still better uses of fifty Paladins out around the planet than in this fallen fortress."

Concern for their Primarch's well-being warred with their obedience to the Lion for a moment, but in the end loyalty won out, and it was with a stiff nod that the Paladins began teleporting out.

Russ, for her part, personally saw to it that her own wolves all filed back onto their stormbirds, knowing full well that no small number of them might have tried to stay if only to listen in (one of the downsides of the free reign she allowed her men, but regardless of what the Lion said she still felt that the tactical flexibility that came from letting her officers actually think for themselves more than made up for it, as well as the knowledge that the loyalty they gave her was given freely and of their own will), and it was only after the last of her gunships had taken off that she finally returned to the conversing pair, eager to sate her curiosity.

"So, Lion…" Russ began in a slow drawl, savoring the look of dread that flashed across the Lion's face as she was reminded of her existence. "Are you going to introduce your new friend to me?"

"I had hoped," Lion admitted through gritted teeth, "that you would have been included in that offer of privacy, Russ."

"Even the Allfather himself would have a hard time keeping me from this," Russ proclaimed with a smirk. "Besides, would you not agree that I have done much for you, between keeping the men pacified and organizing some privacy for your reunion?"

The Lion evidently did not agree, but before she could argue Jaune stepped forward, and offered his hand up to the massive blonde woman as he introduced himself: "Uh, hi… my name's Jaune. Jaune Arc. Short, sweet, rolls off the tongue. It's, uh… nice to meet you?"

Russ gripped the proffered hand and tested its grip (more solid than she'd expected) as she replied in kind: "I am Leman Russ, the Wolf Queen, Ruler of Fenris, Primarch of the Space Wolves Legion, and the Emperor's Executioner."

Jaune blinked, trying to process the absolute myriad of titles he'd just been bombarded with.

"So, how do you know my dear sister over here?" Russ pried, wrapping an arm around the Lion even as she shot him a look that Jaune, with his seven older sisters, could clearly recognize as a mixture of protective and curious.

"We, uh…" Jaune's voice trailed off, unsure of how to explain things.

"We met in the forests of Caliban, before Luther found me," the Lion intervened, explaining as much for Jaune's benefit as Russ's.

"Really?" Russ raised an eyebrow at that. "I know you've talked about Luther a few times, and the knighly orders of Caliban, but you've never mentioned this one, Lion…"

"It's complicated, Russ," Lion said matter-of-factly.

Jaune could only shrug in agreement, not knowing how else to put it.

"I see," Russ looked between the pair, before stepping forward and sniffing at Jaune (much to his confusion and the Lion's utter mortification).

"Russ!" Lion hissed in protest, her face absolutely red.

"Hmmm…" Russ hummed, ignoring her sister as she processed what she'd picked up from Jaune. He smelled… highly confusing, to put it bluntly, but he was still recognizably human, at least, and there was no stench of Maleficarum clinging on to him, so there was that. Of course, this was the perfect chance to both tease the normally-unflappable Lion and test the character of a man she evidently held in high regard, and so she instead looked down at him and remarked: "Seems weak."

"Um…" Jaune wasn't quite sure of how to respond to that, either, considering the person judging him was about twice as tall and thrice as wide as he was. And he knew Lion's strength; if her sister was anything like her, he'd definitely be considered weak in comparison to her.

The Lion, however, disagreed, and she dutifully informed her sister: "I assure you, Russ, that he is anything but "weak"; in the dozen times we fought, never once was I able to claim the victory."

"I mean, to be fair, back then you didn't have any of, uh… this…" Jaune pointed out, waving his arm at her armor, though the Lion looked away with flushed cheeks as she reminded how she'd clothed herself during her time in the forest (or, more accurately, didn't).

"Wait, he actually managed to best you?" Russ interrupted incredulously, looking between the two once more.

"Indeed, he did," Lion nodded. "Younger and less experienced as I may have been, but it was still an achievement nonetheless."

Russ blinked, unsure of which fact was more surprising - that the Lion had been defeated by this person a dozen times, or that the prideful Primarch was actually admitting it. Regardless, if what she was saying was true…

The only warning Jaune had was the all-too-familiar feral grin that crossed the Wolf Queen's face (one that he had seen too many times before, on too many women), before his Aura immediately began screaming like he was back in Hell facing that spider demon.

The first blow, aimed at his face, he barely managed to block, and even with his Aura-enhanced strength it still took him both his hands to keep his face from being caved in, which left him exposed to the follow-up blow from her other fist as it smashed into his chin with enough force to rock a Rhino APC.

Fortunately for Jaune, his post-human Aura and Avalon was sufficient at keeping his head attached to the rest of his body (it helped that Russ hadn't actually intended to kill him, but had only been testing him, albeit by the standards of Primarch's), and as he quickly caught his footing the Instinct he'd inherited from his once-and-future Master and friend directed him to throw a punch at the approximate location of Russ's solar plexus, with enough force to snap a man's neck (and which would have barely knocked the wind out of her even if she hadn't been wearing her power armor).

Russ took a step back as the blow connected, more in surprise at Jaune's actions than from the force of his punch, and to Jaune's horror the grin on her face only intensified, but before she could leap back at him a massive sword was suddenly thrust between the two of them, wielded by a furious Lion as she sharply snarled: "Have you taken leave of your senses, Russ?! What were you thinking, assaulting him unprovoked, and with that level of force no less?!"

Russ looked at her sister, the excitement fading from her eyes at the tirade, before looking back down at the seemingly-normal mortal she'd just exchanged fists with.

And then she laughed.

"Relax, Lion," Russ finally said as she wiped the tears from her eyes, as the Lion's grip began to tighten on her sword. "You were right about this one, sister; I'd wager my blow did little lasting harm to him, right, Jaune?"

"..." Jaune took a moment to massage the back of neck, before he nodded: "Yeah, I'm fine, uh… Wolf Queen…"

"You can just call me "Leman" or "Russ", boy," Russ reassured him with another hearty guffaw, before exclaiming: "Gods, I've punched mountains that would've moved more than you did! What in Fenris's name are you made of, really?"

"Uh, thanks?" Jaune still wasn't sure how to respond to what was apparently this universe's version of the Slayer, so he instead treated her like he would have Yang (the Dragonborn, at least): "Those were good hits, too…"

"Hah! I like this one!" Russ cheerfully clapped Jaune on the back, before turning back to the Lion. "How in Terra did you end up as humorless as you are if you knew someone like this back on Caliban, sister?!"

Jaune wisely decided to avoid mentioning that most of their shared interactions had been the Lion trying to violently murder him.

-NIDHOGGUR, WARP TRANSIT-

As Jaune looked around the simple and austere walls of the oversized room that he'd been assigned to, he found himself wondering, for the millionth time in his lives (and the hundredth time on this world), just what in Oum's name he'd gotten into.

For starters, running into the wild woman from the forest, Lion, again had been very low on the things he'd expected, and meeting her similarly-superhuman sister had only added to the absolute confusion that had followed… and that had only been the tip of the iceberg regarding what things he'd been told that day.

Apparently, Lion and Russ were two of twenty (though only eighteen were left, for some reason) superhuman sisters known as Primarchs, genetically-crafted warriors and generals by some figure known as the Emperor of Mankind, who'd been designed to aid him in his conquest of the galaxy.

And if that wasn't enough, from the genes of these twenty (eighteen?) daughters he'd created twenty (eighteen?) legions of superhuman warriors for them to lead, which had been the power-armored giants that had surrounded him and pointed their weapons at him when he'd first appeared.

And now he was among them, a failed Huntsman-in-training among legions of superhuman soldiers created to claim the stars themselves.

Seriously, just what on Remnant was he doing here?!

When he'd run away from home with the family sword, dying in a Grimm attack had been the last thing on his mind, sure… but it had at least still been on his mind!

He still honestly couldn't fathom what Lion and Russ saw in him, that they'd asked him to join them, to conquer the galaxy in the name of a united humanity so that it might protect itself from the dangers lurking amongst the stars.

Ultimately, though, while he still wasn't quite sure about the whole "conquest-by-force" aspect of their Great Crusade, he'd seen more than enough alien raiders and inhuman tyrants in his lives to be able to say that they didn't have a point, and more importantly it wasn't like they could just leave him alone on the planet, and so, after some thought, he'd agreed to go with them, and at least speak to their father, before making a more permanent decision.

Of course, he doubted his mind was really going to change; no matter how charismatic or persuasive as this Emperor of Mankind may be, no matter how utopian his vision for humanity may be, this was war, on a scale he couldn't even comprehend, and he was no soldier.

Even if he did agree with it, there wasn't anything he could offer them, no place for him in this Great Crusade.

Well, at least he wouldn't have to worry about it for another week or so; the Imperium may have had Faster-Than-Light travel (apparently they did it by ripping a hole into another dimension called the Warp, which really did not reassure him in the slightest), but the galaxy was really just that big, and even though they'd be meeting the Emperor and another one of their younger sisters (which in this case meant that she'd been found after them) in a "nearby" system, that journey was still going to take about two weeks (plus a few days of real-space travel; apparently the downside of their FTL drives (besides ripping a hole in the fabric of reality, of course) was that it couldn't travel to just anywhere within a system, so they'd be leaving the Warp as close to it as possible and travelling the rest of the way with the ship's sub-light drives).

Of course, while he may have been relatively inexperienced with interstellar warfare, the bit of experience he did have from his time in Beacon and with the Brotherhood of Steel, House, and as Artoria's advisor in Camelot, told him that, at least in comparison to everything he'd ever seen before, that was really fast.

Come to think of it, House's ultimate goal had been to find a new home for humanity among the stars, hadn't it?

Jaune idly wondered how the Courier's boss (and his former one, technically) would react to seeing this humanity's galactic civilization, or the fact that their spaceships travelled by going through another dimension.

Hopefully this civilization wouldn't see what the UAC had on their Mars, though their Astartes did seem like they'd at least be able to stand a chance against the demons of Hell.

Before he could give it much more thought, however, the alarm he'd set earlier went off, and he shook his head clear as he got up and left the room, having promised to meet Lion for some swordsmanship practice.

And that was another thing he was still getting used to; even though they'd been reunited maybe a week ago, they hadn't really had much chance to talk, and he was still struggling to get used to the Lion as she was now, rather than the mute wild woman who'd tried to punch his heart out with her bare fists more than a few times.

At least his earlier thoughts had been vindicated, though he'd admit he never could have guessed that this green-eyed blonde would have also grown up into a striking and regal leader of an order of knights and a champion swordswoman.

Before he could start thinking too much about Artoria, however (he couldn't even guess how long it'd been since Camelot; he'd been through too many worlds with too many different measures of a "day"...), a large palm collided into his back, and a boisterous voice boomed: "Aye, greetings, boy!"

"Hello, Leman," Jaune looked up at the other blonde Primarch with a smile.

"So, where on my ship are you heading to this time, Jaune?" Russ inquired as she returned his smile. Then her smile took on a teasing tone as she guessed: "Perhaps, you're on the way to yet another private meeting with Lion?"

"She just wants to have a spar with me," Jaune nodded with a shrug, ignoring the blatant implication; he'd dealt with his fair share of older sisters and blonde brawlers, after all, and knew that responding to it in any way was just asking for trouble.

"Truthfully I had expected as much," Russ hummed simply, instead of doubling down as he might have expected. "The Lion is hardly known for being verbose, or was she perhaps different when you knew her on Caliban?"

"Honestly, not really," Jaune admitted. "She didn't really talk much back then, either."

Specifically, she hadn't talked at all when he'd known her, but the Lion had asked him (during one of the rare opportunities for private conversation they'd managed to find, between withdrawing from the warzone they'd apparently been in and preparing Russ's ship for it's additional guests) to please kindly avoid talking about her time in the forest, and Jaune hadn't really been inclined to argue with the ten-foot superhuman warrior.

Russ snorted at the admission, before casually changing the subject: "By the way, just what kind of blade do you carry? I've never seen something like it before…"

"This?" Jaune tapped Caliburn once, before pulling it slightly out of Avalon. "It's a… uh… magic sword…"

"How in the Allfather's name did you get a magic sword?" Russ blinked incredulously, staring at the glowing golden blade. Sure, she had the Dionysian Spear, but that had been a personal gift from Father himself! And yet, her senses told her that the man in front of her told no lie, and more importantly the blade in front of her was no mortal blade.

"It's a very long story," Jaune tried to deflect, unsure of just how he was supposed to explain his earlier adventures up to Fuyuki (especially considering the Imperium, with its Imperial Creed, could best be described as militantly atheistic; he doubted admitting that fighting gods and demons was a wise idea).

"The best stories always are," Russ's laughter boomed out like a thunderstorm as she clapped him in the back once more, before she relented, well-aware of her sister's patience: "Alright, what's the most impressive foe you've killed, then?"

"Hmm…" Jaune thought about it for a bit. The multiverse had an astounding variety of creatures that it had attempted to kill him with, and he'd gotten into too many fights to really recall them anymore. There'd been the undead golems on that poison-filled planet, the forest creatures of Caliban, Angra Mainyu, Deathclaws, vampires, dragons, Grimm…

"It's probably a dragon, I guess," Jaune finally answered. Sure, Deathclaws may have been troublesome for him, but that was more due to the fact that they tended to hunt in packs; individually speaking, he'd have to say dragons were the more impressive.

Angra Mainyu didn't count, since he technically hadn't killed her.

"You've slain a dragon before?" Russ blinked, before confirming: "Large reptiles that can breathe fire?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Jaune nodded. "Why, have you fought them before too?"

"Not me, but one of my sisters, Vulkan, hails from a planet that is supposedly infested with them, though they're called fire drakes down there," Russ explained with a wistful look. "Allfather willing, perhaps one day I shall have the opportunity to journey to Nocturne in person, and test my strength against such beasts too."

"Oh, what other dangers does this galaxy have?" Jaune couldn't help but ask, his curiosity getting the better of him, and even as the pair continued heading towards the Nidhoggur's duelling pits they continued their animated discussion, with Russ especially eager to retell the glory of her tales to a new and receptive audience.

When they finally arrived, the Lion was hardly pleased at her sister's presence, and even less so when her sister insisted on observing their duel.

-CONQUEROR, ORBIT ABOVE GHENNA-

As Angron observed the burning skies of the ruined world below her, remembering how her sons had reduced its once-beautiful cities to burning buildings and shattered spires, mounds of rubble easily towered over by the mountains of broken bodies they'd made of the Ghennans' Simulacra, she couldn't help but feel a pang in her conscience, as she wondered if what she was doing was right.

When the Emperor had found her, over half a solar century ago (the vagaries of Warp travel made tracking the passage of time difficult), back when she'd just finished overthrowing the High-Riders of Nuceria and reorganizing its society into a more meritocratic and equal system, she had been all too eager to submit to her creator, and she'd leapt at the chance to see the wider world, meet the legion of gene-sons that had been crafted to fight alongside her, and most of all to grow the bonds of brotherhood between them as they journeyed across the stars, liberating humanity from the yoke of the tyrant, the oppression of the xenos, and the ignorance of Old Night.

But that had been so long ago, and though she'd doubtlessly done much good in her time as the Primarch of the War Hounds (she couldn't deny she especially took a savage glee in freeing people from the Aeldari), she had done much, much more, and now she was beginning to have doubts.

It had been something the Ghennans had said before they'd been executed that had stuck with her - when she'd asked why they'd rebelled now, why they hadn't simply rejected the initial offer of compliance, of integration into the Imperium, they'd pointed out that all they'd ever actually wanted was be left alone, but when a fleet of warships filled with Astartes suddenly appeared above their skies, their only choices had been to either submit, or be made to submit by bolt and blade.

In other words, they'd never truly had a choice.

Was the liberation she brought to these planets truly any different from slavery to the Emperor of Mankind?

Had she become what those damnable xenos had foreseen, a butcher in service to a galactic tyrant no different from the High-Riders she'd overthrown?

She'd still killed the true Ghennans, of course (if not because they'd rebelled, and if not because they'd used a form Abominable Intelligence to direct their Simulacrum, then because their actions had needlessly killed her gene-sons, and for all their discipline the bonds of brotherhood among the XII Legion ran too deep to allow such a sin to go unanswered), but the seeds of doubt had been planted.

Which led to the current situation.

The Emperor and the Bucephelus had been relatively nearby (galactically speaking, at least), and she had asked her Father to meet her, that they may discuss Ghenna.

Officially, she simply wanted to know his position on whether the Ghennan's use of artificial Simulacra could be considered true Abominable Intelligence, considering that it had been human minds, bodies, and souls that had been directing them.

Unofficially? Well, she'd planned on prying deeper into his ideals, his convictions, his vision for the galaxy and the nascent Imperium of Man, with whatever happened next dependant on his answer and just how virtuous she truly was.

Unfortunately, while he had agreed to meet her, it turned out that two other Primarchs were also nearby, the Lion and the Wolf, and he had invited them to meet her as well, and officially introduce her to the two favored Primarchs.

She'd never met them in person before, but she'd heard of their reputations, and while she'd have ordinarily relished the chance to meet any of her sisters (especially two so well-known for their prodigious martial skills), considering her doubts it probably wasn't ideal that she would meet with the Emperor in the presence of two of his most loyal and honor-bound daughters (whose legions had earned the names of the Emperor's Exterminators and the Emperor's Executioners respectively).

Not for the first time she found herself wishing Mortarion was here; while her older sister had a reputation for being dour among the wider Imperium and their other sisters, she was nowhere near as bad as ol'Perty's self-aggrandizing mercurial humors (at least in her personal opinion), and despite their seemingly-incompatible natures (where Mortarion tended to be withdrawn and reserved Angron was ever boisterous and expressive) the pair had found some common ground in their similar ideals and beliefs, and Angron had managed to strike up an unlikely friendship with Mortarion.

In particular, Angron had always enjoyed listening to her older sister's tales of how she'd liberated Barbarus from the inhuman tyrant overlord Necare (though Mortarion had stubbornly refused to tell her more about her former second-in-command, a supposed swordsman on par with her who'd helped her design their initial primitive armors. Angron had never known before that day that her sister could have another skin color beyond "pallid"...); they'd always reminded her of the stories he'd used to tell her.

And speaking of him…

Angron found herself sighing morosely, as she wondered what Jaune would think, if he could see her now.

Sure, she'd only known him for three Nucerian weeks (a mere fraction of the overall time she'd spent on Nuceria alone, to say nothing of the rest of her entire life crusading amongst the stars), but his words and deeds had always stuck with her all this time.

At the very least, though, he'd have probably approved of what she'd done to Nuceria.

"My lord," a voice snapped her out of her bittersweet memories, and she turned to find her equerry by her side. "The Bucephelus has arrived at the rendezvous point, along with the Invincible Reason and the Nidhoggur. Your transport is only awaiting your arrival before it departs for the Emperor's ship."

"You have my thanks, Kharn," Angron smiled and gave him a light clap on the shoulder as she turned towards the Conqueror's launch bay.

Before she could begin making her way down the deck, however, the Brother-Sergeant hesitantly spoke once more, his tone one of concern: "My liege… is everything quite alright?"

Angron quickly suppressed her latent empath abilities as she laughed it off: "Don't need to worry about me just yet, Kharn; I have just been pondering on the topic that I have asked the Emperor to rule on, nothing more."

"I understand, my Lord," Kharn bowed. "Please forgive me for being presumptuous."

"There is nothing to forgive, my son," Angron reassured him as she departed. "I would not take offence at your display of loyalty."

The transit from the Conqueror to the Bucephelus was a peaceful one (as was to be expected, considering the system had been pacified and hosting the Emperor, his Custodes, three Primarchs, and their attendant fleets), which paradoxically did little to calm Angron's nerves, and she spent the entire journey fidgeting, gripping the handle of her chainaxe, releasing it, and repeating the process multiple times as she imagined the multitude of ways the coming meeting could play out (especially the less likely and more violent ones).

Fortunately, she hadn't taken any of her gene-sons with her; officially this was to be but a private meeting between the Emperor and his three daughters, and unofficially if the worst (unlikely as it may have been) was to happen she did not wish for her War Hounds to be involved, to be sanctioned for the actions she might be driven to take not as Primarch of the Legio XII but as Angron of Nuceria.

Then her Stormbird docked in the Bucephelus's hangars, and she stepped out, where the Custodes greeted her.

She made sure she kept a tight lid on her emotions and reactions as they ran through the customary security searches and seized her chainaxe from her, refusing to betray any inkling of unease in front of the ever-paranoid Companions of the Emperor, lest they mistake it as something more sinister.

She maintained her tempered expressions even as she was escorted deeper into the massive ship, until she was brought before the gilded doors of a meeting room, and the Custodes in front of her stepped to the sides, flanking her as they granted her leave to open the door and enter their master's chambers.

And finally, she opened the doors and stepped foot into the room to face the Emperor, hoping that her misgivings would be proven wrong.

Instead of being greeted (warmly or coldly) by the Emperor or her unknown sisters, however, she walked into a conversation already in progress.

"Why in Terra are you asking about this now, Leman?" a kindly voice asked, sounding utterly bewildered, which was probably the Emperor in his aspect as their caring creator (but not Father, for he hadn't been the one to raise her).

"Russ," another woman hissed, sounding shocked and embarrassed in equal measure.

"If you will not act then do not be surprised if someone else does, sister," a deep, guttural voice rebutted. "Besides, can you truly tell me that you have never been curious in the least about that aspect of our biology?"

"... should I really be here for this…?" a maddeningly-familiar voice spoke tentatively, a voice that momentarily gave Angron pause as her post-human mind incredulously tried to place just when the last time she'd heard it was.

"Considering you bear the Sword in the Stone, I think you possess enough wisdom to know the answer," the first voice pointed out with a chuckle.

Angron quickly sped up her steps, refusing to believe it yet wishing it was true all the same-

And then she reached the main chamber to see a simultaneously bemused and amused Emperor, a laughing blue-eyed blonde clapping the back of another, much more familiar, blue-eyed blonde, even as her shoulder was being gripped by a third blonde, this one with stern green eyes, as she furiously chastised her: "You are not going to attempt to make a child with Jaune, Russ!"

Angron blinked.

-SKIES ABOVE BARRAKAN-

"Maxson, status report!"

"All systems' still green, Elder!"

"Good," Sarah nodded approvingly, before turning to Vargas. "Sensors?"

"They're going absolutely crazy, ma'am!" Vargas informed the rest of the bridge from his station, and everyone immediately tensed up as he elaborated: "Radar, thermals, radio, everything's off the charts!"

"Pull up a visual feed, ventral cameras!" Sarah barked, refusing to let the Brotherhood of Steel appear lacking, especially not in front of their guest on the bridge, Jaune's newest friend.

Reddin dutifully followed her instructions, and as the Prydwen's main monitor flickered to life, the veterans of the East Coast Brotherhood of Steel couldn't help the sudden spike of adrenaline that shot through them, as they finally saw what was going on beneath them.

Green-skinned brutes, hundreds of thousands of them, each carrying crude weapons that looked like salvaged scrap, each uglier than sin, were swarming towards some fortification being held by power-armored figures, who were barely holding on, engaging the savage hordes in melee with knife and bayonet and the butt of their guns and dying.

"What in the Lord's name is this…" Artoria Pendragon breathed in shock, never having seen warfare on such a scale before.

"Hey, has anybody seen that red-headed-" Ruby Ironwood entered the bridge, before freezing as she took in the all-too-familiar sight.

To their credit, everyone on the bridge recovered remarkably quickly, and Sarah immediately began relaying orders: "Maxson, prepare to release Liberty Prime! Vargas, try to hail the base on the radio! Ruby, get in your armor and prepare to lead the Pride to support Prime!"

"I will assist Lady Ironwood on the surface, Sir Lyons," Artoria informed Sarah, tapping the hilt of Excalibur.

Sarah didn't bother arguing with the legendary King Arthur Pendragon (or Queen Artoria Pendragon, in this case), but instead stiffly nodded, before turning her attention back to the Prydwen's screens, while Artoria ran out of the bridge after Ruby.

And as she took in all of the chaos occurring on the bridge around her, and the chaos occurring on the planet below, she could only really think a single thought.

Why am I even surprised? It's Arc…

Postscript:

"As for why I never actually turned (the Halo omake) into its own story... well, besides the fact that I really don't want to have to read up on rocket science and the properties of plasma and lasers and kinetic and ballistic projectiles in vacuum... I couldn't figure out a way to get Jaune out of it, to put it simply. Nor did I want him to experience mass genocide...

(…)

Also, these aren't meant to be too serious (or canonical), which is why I'm not really going too crazy with fleshing out these scenarios (and why I really skimped on the action scenes)." - Some Random Shitty Rambler, 4 Dec 2021

Buckle up, because as befits such a long segment there's definitely a lot to be said about it.

The original concept for this scenario was called "Papa Jaune's Multiversal Orphanage For The Gifted", and involved him basically taking in Cindy and the Primarchs by accident and being a better dad to them than Jimmy Space (not that that's particularly difficult, mind you), but a) that was a bit too much crack, even for me (yes, surprising, I know), and b) I couldn't figure out anyway to fit Cindy into this setting, which is why, in this omake, she got successfully sent to the Arc Household in Remnant while Jaune got hijacked (for lack of a better word) and sent to the 30k universe.

As for who did the hijacking, and why they're also sending him to intervene in the lives of the Primarchs who would turn traitor in the future? Who knows? Might be some all-powerful entity with future knowledge and a vested interest in averting the Horus Heresy, might be Angra Mainyu who wants him to redeem more doomed children (hey, if he can save Angron, he can definitely save Cindy), who knows?

On a more serious note, as much as I love 40k (or the old lore, at least), the reason why I never seriously considered it being one of the worlds of ATDITW was that ATDITW's premise was that Jaune gets isekai'd into a world where a RWBY character basically replaces a character of the setting. But, as easy as it would have been to insert any RWBY character into 40k... well, the setting's so bleak that Jaune's survival chances were next to nil, and even if he did survive, the scale of 40k is such that it'd have easily been years, if not decades, before he finally left the setting for anything else (which would have greatly extended the age gap between him and his friends and family, making the reunion just that much more awkward, to say nothing of the trauma of surviving 40k).

I did also briefly consider 30k, but for similar reasons decided against having Jaune live through the Horus Heresy (the only way Jaune would have been able to get the ear of the Emperor (and thus actually change things) would be if he somehow got the ear of a Primarch, and as amusing as it would have been to have Nora Valkyrie be Vulkan or a Lost Primarch, the idea only occurred to me after I'd already finished the story, as I mentioned earlier).

But in an omake? Not only do I not have to worry so much about those details, but since this takes place after Jaune's final power-up, I can absolutely go so far over the top it might actually be plausible for him to make it through everything in one piece!

... actually, between Caliburn, Avalon, his magic-core-and-dragon-soul-enhanced Aura, his new ability to Shout, and all of his experience... how would the Emperor and the genderbent Primarchs react to an unaging, nigh-unkillable warrior with experience in nation-building and guiding humanity through a dark age, and whose soul has such odd properties while having zero connection to the Immaterium?

At the same time, though, could you imagine his response to the Emperor's works? Even before the Horus Heresy, the Imperium of Man was brutal, with many worlds (notably not most; lots of worlds were just happy to be in contact with humanity again, after Old Night) being absorbed by force, not to mention what happened to those who happened to have mutated too much, or if they refused to embrace the atheistic Imperial Truth, or if they happened to work with aliens.

Well, someone else can write that. Seriously, just this little bit I wrote should be more than enough to show people why I never took this idea seriously. God, this was such a slog, and the worst part is I didn't even include all the ideas I actually had and wanted to write...

In no particular order, they were:

Fleshing out Barbarus (not Nostramo, Baal Secundus, or Noctune, notably; those were just meant to be short one-off scenes).

More scenes between Jaune, Russ, and Lion on the Nidhoggur (there were a lot more scenes of bonding between the three, especially Russ and Jaune, that I had to cut due to just how bloated this damned thing was getting).

The actual discussion between the Emperor and Jaune; this was based on old lore that implied that Emps was Merlin, which would mean it would probably be very fun for him to see a blonde man with the soul of a dragon and carrying the Sword in the Stone. They would have also discussed the Great Crusade in general (and Emps in particular would have been very amused at Jaune of all people speaking about post-human warriors) and the Astartes in particular (he'd have questioned the wisdom of making most of them pretty much incapable of actual diplomacy or infrastructure building, while the Emperor would point out that was deliberate, considering both the time-sensitive nature of the Great Crusade, the wartorn state of the galaxy, and that he didn't want Astartes and Primarchs to rule over humans but for the mortals to instead rule themselves).

Magna the Red getting really interested in Jaune's soul.

Vulkan championing Jaune as the Knight of Compassion.

The Battle of Firebase Endriago (namely, the whole power-armored soldiers fighting green-skinned brutes, though the Astartes would be very bemused at the BoS's very primitive power armor and lasguns).

Anyway, getting back to the story… unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately), AO3's chapters have character limits, so unless I want to break another promise and make this Chapter 101 (I don't), I'll have to cut out ALL my ramblings on the Primarchs and why I portrayed them the way I did.

If you're feeling particularly masochistic and want the full details, just tell me (either on AO3 or on SpaceBattles, but not on FFN because replying to multiple comments here is pain) and I'll post it as a comment review or a separate post.

Also before you ask, yes, there was, indeed, somebody missing from the Prydwen's line-up when they reunited with Jaune.

And no, I haven't forgotten about her…

-FIDELITAS LEX, SEGMENTUM PACIFICUS-

The massive golden woman paced up and down the lenngth of her private quarters as she tried to digest everything she'd just been told.

To be perfectly honest, she hadn't been having a good month after… after that incident, and when an unknown intruder had suddenly appeared in the middle of her room as she'd been reflecting on recent events, she felt like she'd have been perfectly justified if she'd had the intruder apprehended or killed (if not simply killed the intruder herself; it was what some of her other sisters would have done).

But her instincts told her that the woman's confusion had been genuine, and the primitive weapons she carried posed little threat to her, and so, after taking a few moments (and no small amount of her legendary charisma) to calm the woman down, she had the woman explain just who she was and how in the Emp- in the gods' names had she breached all of the not-insignificant security measures on her personal flagship and teleported into her private chambers at the heart of the Gloriana-class Battleship.

And after no small amount of cursing and swearing, the woman had complied.

Had it been any other time, she would have dismissed the woman's audacious claims out of hand, poked holes at the flaws in her logic and her tales, and tried to turn her from the baseless superstitions that comprised her religion and towards the one true god that was the Emperor of Mankind (or killed her if she would not convert, for that was what He had decreed).

But after her Father had spurned her worship, shamed her for her beliefs, and chastised her for her devotion, after what Rouberte (who she'd once held in high regard despite her cold demeanor and faithlessness) had done, after Monarchia…

Lorgar Aurelian, the Urizen, in the midst of her greatest crisis of faith, decided to believe that all the seemingly-unconnected events that had transpired recently, up to and including the sudden appearance of the woman in front of her, had not been coincidence but, instead, a test, all part of some greater being's ultimate plans for her.

More than that, with the strength of will of the desperate, the zealous, and a Primarch combined did she embrace this idea; now that she had been humbled, freed from her blind worship to the Emperor by the man himself, she was finally ready to learn of the true gods.

And she made the choice that would forever change the course of this galaxy.

"Tell me more about this… Archangel that you speak of," Lorgar commanded as she leaned forward, locking eyes with the red-headed messenger of the gods, the Courier, who was more than happy to oblige.

Postscript: Courier Pyrrha no? Courier Pyrrha YES.