Chapter Text
Cinder breathed out and settled into a defensive stance, weight slightly shifted to her back foot and glass swords shimmering in her hands. She grinned a little as she remembered the first time she’d used them in a practice round like this, so mesmerised by the patterns of light running through them that she’d been struck before she even realised the fight had started.
Her eyes flicked up, and Huntsman Rhodes, her legal guardian and trainer, called out a strident “En garde!” as he began to circle around her.
Cinder grinned as their steps fell into a familiar rhythm. Paired swords demanded vigilance from the hardiest of users, and she was anything but hardy compared to her larger, stronger, decades more experienced opponent. She was quicker, and she had a crafty streak, unlike Rhodes. Those were her strengths.
There was a strength in patience, one she had to work hard to make use of but one that was all too necessary in fights like this. She was waiting for her opponent to make a mistake—and there he was, striking like an adder. No mistakes yet. Cinder deflected the blade above her head and whirled around with a counterattack, but that was blocked—and riposted. Cinder backpedaled, but not fast enough. A hit on her shoulder.
Cinder cursed herself for a fool and used Rhodes’ momentary triumph to close again with him, grinning as she began to dodge, weave and feint. She was in her element here, mind games and swordplay melding into a single glorious art of bluff and double bluff. She laughed delightedly as her swords darted past his and scored a slash at his hip, then gasped as his flashing blade struck her wrist in a textbook move. Two to one.
Cinder whirled backwards, her breathing heavy. She always got nervous when there was a match point at hand. Sooner or later, she’d make a mistake, and he’d capitalise on that to win. Except…
Except if that mistake were from an angle he didn’t expect.
Cinder lunged clumsily, and Rhodes batted away her sword and stabbed—at empty air. Cinder dropped to one hand and swept her mentor’s legs out from under him like she’d seen in international martial arts tournaments, sending him crashing to the floor. He could only cry out in shock as Cinder brought both blades down. “Three points. I win.”
Rhodes grumbled and rose to his feet. “You cheated. This was supposed to be an exercise in swordplay, not martial arts.”
Cinder snorted. “I’m not training to win duels. The monsters won’t follow the rules, so why should I?”
“Because being a Hunter isn’t just about combat,” Rhodes replied in the tired voice of a man who’d had this argument before. “We’re held to a higher ethical standard. Hunters represent the law. We represent the concept of good itself! We can’t break rules because it’s convenient.” Cinder rolled her eyes, and Rhodes sighed, going for a more practical approach. “And because you’re about to go to school. The Grimm won’t care what methods you use to fight them, but your teachers certainly will care if you bypass their instruction entirely.”
“But this lesson wasn’t fair! There’s no way I could beat you in swordplay.”
“The purpose of this exercise wasn’t for you to win. It was for you to learn. Even defeat can teach valuable lessons.”
Cinder pouted. “I didn’t ask for this last-minute training to learn something. I just wanted to convince myself I was ready for this.”
Rhodes’ voice softened. “Then this discussion probably wasn’t very helpful. I suppose you’ll get your share of lectures at Beacon. Just promise me you’ll listen.”
Cinder regained her composure. “I can do that,” Cinder replied. “I still can’t believe this is happening… After all our years of training, I’ll finally be on my way to becoming a real Huntress.” Powerful. Dangerous. Unstoppable, uncontrollable, free. No one told a Huntress what to do.
“It’s a big step, but you’re more than ready for it. You passed the entrance exam with flying colours, after all. But first, please eat your breakfast. It wouldn’t do to spend your first day on an empty stomach. Besides, I made pancakes.”
Cinder bolted to the dining room.
It was days like these that Mercury Black wondered which was worse: his new home, or his old one? It wasn’t a fair comparison, of course, but that didn’t stop his lovely new adoptive sister from making him consider the question.
“Give it back,” Mercury snapped.
“Or what?” Emerald teased. She held out Mercury’s wallet mockingly.
“Or I’ll make you.”
“You’d have to catch me first!” Emerald ran away, ducking through the door into the dining room and leaving Mercury to give chase. He was by far the faster of the two and quickly tackled Emerald—only to fall right through her.
“How do you still fall for that?” Another Emerald chided, perched atop the table with a smirk on her lips.
Mercury scowled at her. He then raised his leg and used the gun built into his prosthetic to shoot her directly in the arm. Emerald winced as it deflected off her Aura and dropped the wallet—but quick reflexes let her snatch it from the air before Mercury could get up.
The two immediately froze as Hazel entered the room. Emerald knew by now that her father was a total softie, but even so, she couldn’t help but be intimidated by him. Gruff, eight feet tall, and with more muscle than seemed physically possible, Hazel commanded respect.
Not one to waste words, Hazel simply glared at Emerald disapprovingly.
Emerald rolled her eyes. “Spoilsport.” She reluctantly handed the wallet to Mercury.
“Why can’t you two just get along?” Hazel sighed, running a hand through his hair.
Mercury got to his feet. “Look. I’m grateful for all you’ve done for me, but I’m not part of your happy little family. A couple of months won’t make me see Emerald as a sister, and it doesn’t justify her antics.”
Emerald snorted. “Fine by me. I didn’t ask for you to come here anyway.”
Hazel’s jaw clenched in frustration. “Please don’t make any trouble for the instructors at Beacon. We don’t need any more pizza delivery incidents.”
“He was covered in bloodstains,” Mercury replied, an amused smirk working its way onto his lips. “A clear and present threat.”
“For the last time,” Hazel snapped, “that was tomato sauce. He delivered pizza.”
“I’ll admit he was kinda suspicious. Nobody could be that happy about working in food delivery,” Emerald noted, matching Mercury’s smirk. It seemed that the only thing the two of them could agree on was a good joke. “I didn’t trust him for a second.”
Hazel facepalmed. “Please don’t attack any more innocent people. Or burgle them. Is that too much to ask for?”
“Don’t worry, dad, we’ll be surrounded by teachers. No fun allowed.” Emerald said. She strapped her twin kusarigama, her Thief’s Respite—she was very proud of that name—to her hips. She stood before the mirror, grinning. “I almost look like a real Huntress like this, huh?”
Hazel shot Mercury a glare as soon as the boy opened his mouth, stopping whatever smart remark that was going to come out of it. He set his hand on Emerald’s shoulder, smiling. “Yes, and you’ll do great, Emerald. I know it. You’ve got a lot of potential in you. All you need is for Beacon to hone it properly.”
Mercury leaned back against the wall, arms folded, and rolled his eyes. They were so painfully sappy at times. He could hardly believe father figures could even be like that, encouraging without being harsh, optimistic. Once upon a time he might have yearned for a father like Hazel… but now all he saw was naivety. Weakness. He’d seen Emerald in combat before. She was good, but far too playful. It was gonna get her killed one day, and all Hazel’s kind words would do was keep her complacent until that day arrived.
“Better get going. That transport won’t wait for you.” Hazel patted Emerald’s shoulder and gave Mercury a paternal smile.
“See ya, dad. Wish me luck!” Emerald headed out, towing Mercury after her.
Ilia Amitola, White Fang agent, prepared to leave her small apartment in Vale. As she packed her things, she spoke into her Scroll. “Chameleon mission log: Second infiltration begins today. No one suspects a thing…. Yet. I should be able to keep both cover identities active without issue.”
“Good work, Ilia,” her contact replied. “I don’t have to remind you how important this mission is… For the both of us. Don’t let the Hunter disguise distract you from the real goal.”
“That won’t be a problem. Act like I’m one of them, form false connections, and abandon them all once I’ve gotten what I need. Don’t let them get too close. It’s nothing I haven’t done before. ”
“That’s precisely why I’m worried,” her leader said. “I’m asking you to relive a dark period in your life. Disguising your identity, surrounding yourself with false friends, holding in your spite and anger until you hit a breaking point…… Why did you suggest this, again?”
“Didn’t want you to waste White Fang funds on my rent and living costs,” Ilia reminded her. “This way, my mission will be funded by the absurd amount of tax money funneled into the Academies. That’s worth the extra effort. I’ll be fine.”
“That makes sense logistically, but I’m still worried for you.”
“Worried about what? That I’ll blow my cover? That I’ll make the mistake of trusting any of them? That I might go native?!” Ilia realised she’d raised her voice. “What I mean to say is that my loyalty will not waver.”
“I’m worried that you’ll get hurt. It was one thing to spend some time with snobby rich kids, but how will you conduct yourself around Hunters-in-training? Defenders of the status quo we fight against, enforcers of the laws that oppress us? What will happen to you if you let that anger slip at Beacon, or worse, on-mission?”
Oh. Ilia tried to form words. Her leader continued.
“I know you hold a lot of resentment towards humanity, and I must admit, that’s part of what makes you such a good agent. Our cause needs your devotion. But we don’t need you to place yourself in unnecessary danger. I want you to focus on managing your anger, on dealing with it in a healthy way, so you don’t end up like…. like…”
“I understand,” Ilia interrupted. She didn’t need to hear that name today. “I will keep a low profile. But once this is over, I’d like to take a mission with some action—a chance to vent my frustrations.”
“I’ll keep that in mind— if you can succeed at your task, of course. I’m counting on you.” Her leader hung up before Ilia could respond. She looked into a mirror and saw herself, Ilia the Chameleon Faunus, skin dyed grey subconsciously from the stress of that conversation. Her hair was red, and her eyes and skin patterns had changed to match. Ilia forced herself to change it all back to default: lightly tanned skin, dark brown hair, and gray eyes with a hint of blue. Finally, she disguised the speckled, scale-like patterns on her skin, changing them from standard brown to better match her default skin colour. It was time to get in character. Just a normal human girl. Training to be a Huntress. Totally manageable. Even though she was heading directly into the school that processed a quarter of the normal human girls training to be Huntresses in the world—as well as the Faunus ones. Living a lie 24/7, keeping her identity and motive secret from powerful and dangerous people. Still doable.
Alright. How would a Huntress student think?
Beacon was everything Cinder had ever imagined.
She stared through the window of the transport. The emerald city of Vale stretched before her, its beautiful streets and gorgeous roofs sprawling as far as the eye could see. Perhaps others would be amazed by the city itself—its size, its many buildings and architectural styles, its business—but Cinder knew better. Cities were places of crime and pain covered up by a lavish facade; Beacon was different. There before the transport, interrupting Vale’s expanse, the school rose shining into the sky, grand and everything she had hoped it would be. The magnificent campus was crawling with students and Hunters, all carrying their own unique weapons. Statues of long-departed heroes littered the grounds. Craters and scorch marks reflected recent battles, and many more had doubtless been fixed or cleaned up. The school’s title was well-deserved, in her eyes. It was a literal beacon of power and authority.
Emerald chuckled as she observed her fellow freshmen. Almost all of them were staring with jaws dropped. Even Mercury couldn’t hide his awe—of course, he’d never seen a real city before, had he? She couldn’t blame them for their ignorance. Still, they’d all be deeply disappointed to learn the truth.
Ilia glanced around. So far her disguise was working—of course it was, it had for the days leading up to this, out and about in the city. But to be among these students… no, she couldn’t identify any distrustful glares, any uncomfortable stares. Not towards her, at least. In a way, she was thankful… in another, she couldn’t help but be righteously angry. Here it was, empirical evidence to show that the only way she could be truly accepted was if she hid her heritage.
Well, so be it. She was well aware of the truth of the matter, and besides, it was critical to her mission she remained hidden.
Idly, she wandered around the airship, taking stock of the new students. Some looked nervous, some fired up, others aloof. And…
She did a double take. Was that Adam?
Yes, yes it was. Fiery red hair, bull horns—he’d traded out anything resembling White Fang garb for a simple black cloak look, but it was him, alright.
For a moment, she couldn’t believe it. Then her mind raced. Flashes of recollection crossed through her brain— ”I can’t stay here, anymore. Not after what happened.” — ”You saw what he did, Ilia. Don’t bother chasing him.” —Then she collected herself. What should she do? Ignore him? No, that was a terrible idea. Or was it? Maybe she should only confront him when they were alone. But what if he was going to do something crazy, like blow up the transport?
He turned his head. His eyes, hidden behind a black visor, met hers. And then, with a subtle smile, he nodded at her.
Ilia shivered, eyes remaining locked onto him even as he turned his gaze away from hers. Oh Brothers, what have I gotten myself into?
Mercury didn't much like people, but he hated waiting with nothing to do more. As he gazed out the transport window, he kept his ears open to the idle chit-chat of his fellow students. His father taught that being observant could save his life; Mercury preferred to use it to stave off boredom. Their chatter filled his mind.
"I can see my house from here. It looks so small…"
"I’m not sure I’m ready for this…"
"What will we do if they don't place us on the same team?"
"Can you believe it?! We're going to meet actual Hunters!"
"These kids really fall for all that hero nonsense? Seriously?"
My thoughts exactly, Mercury thought. He narrowed his focus to that last voice.
"I'm sure all this talk about heroism makes them feel safe and cozy. Don't they realize they're throwing away their lives?"
Mercury was starting to like this guy.
"Idiots, the lot of them."
Nevermind. He’s just an arrogant jerk. Mercury opened his eyes, searching for the source of the voice: a red-haired boy in a white suitcoat and an admittedly cool hat. He was a few yards away from Mercury, but still well in earshot. Mercury raised his voice. "If they're idiots, what does that make you? You're willingly signing up to do the same thing."
"Uh, do you mind? I'm trying to have a private conversation here," the other boy said. He turned his attention back to the girl at his right. "Anyway, as I was saying, we'll be surrounded by these foolish kids for a while. Hopefully we don’t go insane from their drivel." This comment earned some offended glares, but Mercury wasn’t going to let anyone else interrupt them.
"You're the same age as the rest of us," he retorted. "Who are you trying to impress, anyway? Are you showing off to your girlfriend, or do you just want everyone to hate you?"
The boy seemed thrown for a moment, but recovered with a smirk. "Someone’s nosy. How fragile must your ego be for the opinion of a complete stranger to matter so much?"
“I couldn’t care less what you think of me,” Mercury said truthfully. Their little argument had gained an audience. “But when you offer a challenge by insulting me to my face, you’d better expect me to fight back.” He appraised the boy’s outfit. “Also, how fragile must your ego be to dress like that?”
“Jealous of my sense of style? I suppose you would be. Who wears a sleeveless jacket—”
"Oh my god, both of you shut up already," Emerald interjected. "First, of all, sleeveless shirts are great. Second, I will literally pay the both of you to stop talking." Emerald pulled her wallet out of her pocket. "I'm serious."
The boy raised an eyebrow, eyes twinkling at the prospect of cash. "If you insist."
As Emerald paid the duo, she desperately hoped that the weird kid was an outlier. Was this really gonna be who she would be fighting alongside for the next four years? Emerald gave Mercury some extra cash. “It’s yours, anyway—I took it while I had your wallet. Thought you should learn to keep a better eye on your money before you arrived at the big city.”
“A verbal warning would have sufficed,” Mercury grumbled.
At the other side of the transport ship, Cinder remained ignorant to their little argument, entirely absorbed in her thoughts. Her fears. Her expectations. She’d trained for this for years, ever since she had met Rhodes. Beacon was supposed to be where she’d find friends and family, where she’d learn to channel her pain and hatred into something worthwhile, where she’d become someone she could be proud of being. What if it’s not enough? Doubtful thoughts wormed their way into her mind. What if they can’t fix me?
Cinder stopped herself. She couldn’t consider that. She had to keep dreaming. She forced herself to imagine the version of her that would exit this campus in four years’ time. Older, stronger, wiser, and far more powerful. She was closer than ever to becoming that person. I won’t just be a Huntress. I’ll be the best.
Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, the airship landed on Beacon’s grounds.
Forcing herself to focus on her newfound feeling of optimism, Cinder strode down the expansive campus grounds as all the other new students flooded out of the transport vehicle. Teachers—or at least, adults who she assumed were teachers—herded the students towards the distant doors to the interior of the massive school. She couldn’t help but grin wide up at the towering spires. This was it—the start of her legacy. The start of her legend!
“Beacon Academy, prepare yourself for the soon-to-be-great Cinder Fall.” She belted out, caught up in the heat of the moment.
“Did you come up with that name yourself?” Emerald said dryly, walking up beside her.
“… Maybe I did, so what?”
Emerald actually grinned at that. “Well, at least you’re honest. Hi, name’s Emerald.” She stuck out her hand.
“Cinder. Er—well, you already knew that.” She shook it.
“Nice to meet you.” She stuck a hand out, patting the shoulder of a grey-haired boy next to her. “This is my brother Mercury.”
“Adoptive brother,” he corrected, apparently forgoing any actual greeting. He shoved past them, walking ahead among the crowd.
Cinder stared as he went. “I know,” said Emerald in an exhausted tone. “Don’t worry, you get used to him. See you inside!” She ran after her brother, leaving Cinder by herself.
Inside, the students had all settled down in a large cafeteria. The teachers sat at the head of the room, overlooking the chattering group of kids before them. One of them, a middle-aged man dressed in green with grey hair, stood to address the audience.
“I, Professor Orion Ozpin, would like to take this opportunity to welcome all freshmen to Beacon Academy. It warms my heart to see all of you here. Despite your youth, each of you has made a difficult choice. The choice to devote your life to protecting others and to making the world a better place. This determination will take you far, and I can’t wait to see what your futures hold.”
The students cheered. Mercury just rolled his eyes—he sincerely hoped the entire enrollment wouldn’t be full of this starry-eyed idealistic hock.
“I tell you this now,” Ozpin continued with a chortle, “because Headmistress Goodwitch will not be so gentle.”
“Thank you, professor, for buttering them up.” A stern, cold voice. It belonged to Glynda Goodwitch herself, a blond woman dressed in black and white. Her purple cape seemed almost regal. Her glasses hid a pair of piercing, judgemental blue eyes. She carried a riding crop which could function as whip or wand. She stepped up to the podium which Ozpin had occupied before, all eyes glued to her. “Listen up! We live in a world overflowing with monsters attracted to fear and pain. A world where bandit attacks can lead to Grimm invasions that destroy entire cities. A world where war nearly drove humanity to extinction. The most important line of defence we have are the Hunters. We defend the innocent. We protect civilization itself from threats both human and Grimm. We face the evils of the world and triumph. That is the meaning of this profession. Do you have ANY idea how difficult that is? How deadly? Do any of you truly believe you are ready?”
A shocked silence descended on the motley gaggle of teens. Emerald remembered a story Hazel had told her about his sister, Gretchen. A girl who tried to be a hero, but died in the process. Maybe it was a bad idea to sign up for this just for the thrill of it… but come on, I’m not about to pass up the chance to see some real action.
Next to her, Mercury perked up. Now things were getting interesting. Maybe this academy did have standards, after all.
Glynda went on. “It is my duty, and the duty of my colleagues, to turn each and every one of you into a Hunter. This will not be an easy task. Each of you is ignorant, naive, and weak.” Mercury cringed at that last word. Ooh boy. This was going down a familiar path. “But you all have inner strengths, a drive, talent, or trait which helped you get this far. Over the next four years, we will help you harness this strength—whatever unique traits you possess as individuals—and use them to your advantage. I have no doubt each of you will be able to train and learn, because you have each proven your determination by making it this far!” She whipped the table to emphasise her point.
Her voice, once stern, then became passionate. “The moment you entered this campus, you made a commitment. A pact with yourself. ‘I will make this world better than I found it, and nothing and no one can stop me!’ This is the oath you swore by choosing this career path.” Ilia found herself reminded of her own leaders and her own cause. Of course, she thought. Beacon wasn’t just a school—it was a recruiting ground for a movement. An ideology, like her own.
Glynda changed her tone once again, replacing passion with an authoritative, scholarly lecture. “How you go about this is up to you. Some choose to enforce laws and fight criminals. Others defend settlements from the Grimm. Others teach the youth to find their own paths. Most simply do whatever they see that needs doing.” Cinder blinked as those words set in. She thought Beacon would teach her how to be a hero, not… leave her to figure it out for herself. To just… decide, without any guidance or expectations. How was she supposed to do that? The concept scared her, but… it was somehow invigorating, at the same time.
Glynda continued, ignorant to Cinder’s reflection. “Whatever your path, you will need combat skill—” she gestured towards Ozpin. “Knowledge of the Grimm.” A gesture towards a large, portly man with a gray moustache. “An understanding of history.” Now she pointed to a strange, tall man with green hair and round spectacles. “And many, many more skills. Every lesson you learn may well save your life one day, or the life of another. So I suggest you pay attention.” Glynda now waved her whip, gesturing towards the entire student body. Her voice remained calm, yet forceful. “Each of you is capable of something great, something magnificent. I expect you all to live up to this potential. Is. That. Clear?”
Some students found themselves nodding, including Cinder.
“Good. Welcome to Beacon. You may now proceed with your dinner.”
The students gathered there dissolved into uneasy, quiet whispers, clearly affected by the headmistress’s speech. Cinder prodded her food thoughtfully. The way Glynda had established her authority immediately, but actually seemed to believe in her students… The way she wanted to build them all up… It resonated with her. Mercury was sick of hearing about his potential, but if that speech was any indication, the teachers might actually be able to teach him a thing or two. Ilia mused on the irony of the whole situation; she fully planned on accomplishing great things, but she doubted her goal was quite what Glynda meant. Emerald simply ravenously devoured the fine cuisine. She had been moved by the headmistress’s speech, yes, but food was food.
“Oh, and one last thing,” Glynda continued. She had finally lowered her voice, speaking in a gentler tone. “I don’t know what sleep schedule you are used to, but at Beacon, breakfast is served at 7:30. The initiation is tomorrow at 8. I fully suggest heading to sleep early tonight. You will need all your strength come morning.” She made that last line sound like friendly advice and a threat at the same time.