When Winter Met Jaune

By Kraven Ergeist

The Aeneid's engines kicked into gear, and the VTOL airship lifted away from the helipad of Schnee Dust Company headquarters. As was customary for Atlesian aircraft, the armed retinue kept on board to guard the lone passenger was entirely mechanized, however the pilot was still the only other human occupant. While the Schnee Dust Company, in conjunction with the Atlesian military, had developed many prototype piloting units capable of flying with relative competence, they still fell short of a trained pilot's instincts and expertise when it came to handling emergency situations and extenuating circumstances. Mechs were too easy to fool, and when transporting a VIP like Winter Schnee, only the best would be acceptable.

Winter sat in the spacious passenger's cabin, sipping a mug of black coffee as she reviewed her scroll, thumbing through one of her latest contracts for what must have been the eightieth time that day. She was on her way to meet with an important business partner, and the deal they were making with the Schnee Dust Company could not afford any compromises, no matter how small.

Winter remained placid, comfortably disregarding the stoic faces of the eight military mechs stationed in the passenger's cabin. The Aeneid's inertial compensators made for a smooth ride. The clouds outside were passing by at several hundred miles per hour, but inside the cabin, it was as smooth was one could possibly hope for, making for a perfectly adequate working environment for the Schnee heir apparent.

As she reached the end of the document, she massaged the bridge of her nose and lifted her mug into the air.

"More coffee."

Without hesitating, the nearest mech came to retrieve the cup from her hands, returning it to her moments later with a full cup of steaming brew which she immediately began to sip from, despite the scalding temperature. She had attained scarcely two hours' sleep this past week, her time absorbed in contract negotiations and trips abroad. In the past five days, she'd been on four continents, shaken hands with no less than fifteen dignitaries and chief executives, and crossed at least ten different time zones.

For all that, she was in high spirits, at least, as high of spirit as Winter Schnee ever became. With this final contract, her excursion could finally end, and she could return to Atlas with her head held high, confident that her actions had furthered the needs of the Schnee Dust Company and secured her father's interests for the foreseeable future.

After all, if not her, then whom? It had been years since her sister Weiss had graduated from Beacon Academy, and she had excelled thereafter as a renowned huntress in her own right. However, as much as this role befit her dear sister, it was not one that allowed for the handling of business ventures such as this one. While she had every confidence in her sister, she too had an important role to play. It was important to the success of the Schnee family that the two of them stick to these roles and fulfill them to their utmost, and intermingling the two would not benefit either of them, much as she longed to see her sister more often.

She mentally debated the merits of reviewing the contract for the eighty-first time, or if her time would not be better spent trying to catch up on sleep to allow her to better perform on her feet upon their landing. After a moment's consideration, she opted for another review. After all, a fresh cup of coffee had just been poured for her, and it would be a shame to waste it after all.

She took another sip from her snow white mug, before calling up the contract on her scroll.

And that's when all hell broke loose.

KRSSSSSHHHHHHHH!

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as she felt rather than heard the static electricity rock through the Aeneid's hull, as the EMP fried every last electrical circuit on board. Instantly, her scroll faded to black with a snap-hiss of blown circuitry. An instant later, every single security mech in the cabin slumped over, inoperable. Not a breath after that, the ship's main power system had shut down, and the entire craft began to tip into a nosedive.

Winter dropped her scroll and her coffee mug with a clunk and a clatter, seizing the armrests at her side for stability as the two discarded items as well as everything else that hadn't been bolted down, including the eight inoperative mechs, began to tumble towards the back of the cabin. A second later, the emergency harness in her chair deployed, strapping her in and covering her seat on all sides in a yellow inflated safety mesh; a mechanical security feature designed to trigger from a lack of electrical current. Even during an EMP, Schnee technology found a solution.

Unfortunately, the safety mesh made it difficult for Winter to see outside to ascertain the airship's exact condition, as did the alarming tailspin the Aeneid found itself in. She had been trained to deal with emergency situations – usually terrorist attacks and the sort - and right at that moment, her mind and her senses were on hyper alert.

Time seemed to slow down as she thought. If the emergency backup generators had not triggered by now, it was likely that they too had been tampered with, which suggested sabotage within their ranks. A coordinated effort, which meant terrorists were the likely party. She couldn't rule out the pilot being an accomplice, however suicide attacks were not the White Fang's usual M.O., and if the pilot were the sole perpetrator, that would leave too many variables that Winter herself could influence, were she indeed the intended target.

They had been cruising at an altitude of about thirty thousand feet, give or take. If the EMP had knocked out all their systems, the ship would begin to fall immediately, which meant that they would be hitting the ground in a little over six minutes, depending on wind currents. The safety mesh was rated to sustain impacts well beyond that of a crashing ship, so she knew that she herself was in little danger from the fall at least, but that did not assure survival afterward. They had only been in the air for about half an hour, so they were still likely within Atlesian airspace, but that would still put them well beyond the shelter of the kingdom's walls, meaning they would be setting down well into the wilderness.

She would require assistance after the crash.

Winter had never lifted something as big as the Aeneid with her glyphs, but she was confident that she could slow their descent and at least soften the impact. The pilot would probably survive.

Probably.

She could only sustain a levitation glyph of that strength for so long before her aura ran out. Timing would be crucial. She began counting off the seconds, until she reached the six-minute mark. She would only get one shot at this. Her passenger seat came with a digital readout of their speed and altitude, travel clock and global position, but those systems were now completely blank. She was flying – rather falling – completely blind.

After six minutes had passed, she focused her semblance into a single, massive glyph beneath the Aeneid's fuselage. The ship lurched from the sudden shift in momentum, and Winter was thrown against her harness, but she kept her glyph in place. The ship's inertial compensators had been taken offline along with the rest of the electronics, so the sudden G-forces kicked like a mule.

But Winter held on.

Then the crash came, and Winter was thrown into her harness, and she very nearly blacked out. The safety harness dug into her skin through her snow white uniform and she grit her teeth and clenched her eyes shut as she maintained the glyph, both slowing the ship down and stabilizing the structural integrity of the craft. The impact rocked the ship as it skidded along the ground, before it finally came to a halt, and Winter pitched back into her chair with a graceless thud and grunt.

Winter gave herself a cursory inspection – all moving parts appeared to be in working order. The ambient light filtering in through the windows outside her safety mesh had dimmed significantly – likely they had crashed within a forest. That would complicate things. The foliage had probably torn up crucial components of the ship.

It was time to get up and assess the damage.

Winter threw off her safety harness and drew her saber, cutting through the safety mesh surrounding her passenger seat, deflating it. Finally, she could see the damage done to the passenger cabin – the immobile mechs had bounced around, causing significant cracking to the inner hull, and most had been broken into several pieces. The ship was sitting at an odd angle, leaning downward towards the cockpit, which Winter slowly made her way towards, stepping over twisted mecha parts in her path.

She had to pry the cockpit door open by hand, as the automatic latch had been electrical. She slid into the cockpit to find the pilot slumped against his safety harness, alive but unconscious.

She gently slapped his cheek twice, and he suddenly shot upright, looking panicked.

"Gahhh!" he blurted, struggling against his harness and flailing wildly.

"Pilot!" Winter blared, impatiently. "Sound off!"

His training seemed to take over, and he sat upright, throwing his arm into a salute. "Ugh – Ma'am!"

He was wearing standard issue Atlesian military garb, which included a helmet that covered his eyes. He appeared uninjured, or at least, there was no blood or broken bones that Winter could see. Atlesian uniforms came standard with pretty hefty armor, so his suit had probably taken the brunt of it.

Still, she could not rule out the possibility that this has been an inside job.

"What's your status, soldier?" she demanded, saber still in hand.

"Uhh…" he stammered, before looking down at his position. He flexed his hands and legs, and nodded slowly. "Green…I think."

"Good," Winter said stoically. "Report. What hit us?"

The pilot still seemed to be shell shocked as he tried taking in his surroundings.

"I…have no idea…" he mumbled, staring obliquely at the trees outside the cockpit. "One minute we were flying, the next we were falling out of the sky. The flight controls just died in my hands."

Winter frowned. "What about our emergency backup systems?"

The pilot paused for a moment, then began looking around on the dashboard before finally spotting what he was looking for and reached out to grab what appeared to be a blown fuse box.

"See for yourself…" he muttered grimly. "When I went to activate it, the thing blew up in my face. I think someone might've tampered with it."

Winter gritted her teeth, her grip on her saber tightening. "Yes, it would appear so."

The pilot moved to unfasten his harness, before freezing in place, finding the tip of Winter's sword at his throat.

"Guaaahhh…!" he exclaimed in alarm. "Wh-wh-what did I do!?"

"You tell me," Winter said coldly, venom in her voice. "You're not telling me everything! What really happened up there?"

If this pilot was a member of the organization responsible for this attack, Winter supposed she would have to keep him alive, much as the idea made her sick. He could have valuable information.

The pilot clasped his hands together in a pleading fashion. "Okay, okay! I confess!"

Winter smiled. All too easy.

"I admit it, okay?" he blubbered. "I passed out!"

Winter blinked. "You…what?"

The pilot scratched his cheek. "Look…don't tell anyone about this, okay? But when I was a kid, I used to get airsick. Like, all the time. I couldn't even ride on a commuter airship without throwing up."

Winter was dumbstruck. What was this idiot talking about?

"But I was determined to get better at it!" he declared, sounding about as sincere as anyone could be. "I trained and trained and stuck to it as long as it took, and eventually, I passed my pilot's exam and made it into the New Atlesian Airforce!"

Winter lowered her sword. Who had she gotten stuck with as her pilot exactly?

"I was doing so well!" he continued. "I even managed to get this sweet security gig, piloting government big shots and high profile clientele. Not the most glamorous job, but the pay was really nice. I was so determined to make a good impression and show off how well I could handle the job under pressure, but…well…"

He hung his head, sniffing inside his helmet.

"As soon as an emergency came up, what did I do?" he blubbered. "I cracked. It all came rushing back to me. The fear, the nausea…and I…I passed out, okay? I know that's not acceptable for someone in this position, and…and I'll understand if this gets me reprimanded or laid off, but…just…just don't hate me for this, okay? I really, really-"

"Okay, that's enough!" Winter held up her hand, rubbing her forehead. "Just…stop."

She shook her head in defeat. This pilot wasn't an accomplice - he was a dupe! Someone up high had assigned an amateur to do a professional's job. She was in deeper weeds than she had originally thought. Not only was she effectively fending for herself out in the wilderness, but she would be babysitting a rookie pilot while doing so.

She mentally debated the pros and cons of leaving him for dead. It could all just be an elaborate cover story after all.

"Okay, just…" she glared back at the pilot, sword out. "Look me in the eye and tell me you're not with the White Fang."

He held up his hands, practically panicking. "I'm not! Never have been!"

"Take off your helmet then," she commanded, tapping the tip of her saber to the Atlesian military helm. "Let me see."

The pilot clumsily fumbled with the latch on his helmet, before yanking it off his head, revealing a mop of brilliant blond hair and crystal clear blue eyes.

Winter studied his face for a moment. No animal ears at least, but that wasn't a guarantee. She fancied herself an excellent judge of character, however, and this was a face that had the look of a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar. Any transgression this wet-behind-the-ears flight school jockey thought he'd done, it was clear that he believed them to be out in the open already, and was already expecting due recompense.

Unfortunately, dolling out proper punishment at this time would not improve their chances of survival out here.

"Alright," Winter said, sheathing her saber. "We can discuss your lack of professionalism in emergency situations later. Right now, we need to assess the damage to the ship, salvage what we can, gather as many emergency supplies as possible, and set up a distress beacon so we can get a ride out of here."

The pilot, who was in the middle of unfastening his harness, raised his hand. "Umm…question? If you really think this was an attack by the White Fang, then…wouldn't putting up a distress beacon just let them know where we are? I mean, if they're the ones who shot us down, wouldn't that mean that they're the closest ones in the area? And I mean…they're probably trying to track us down in case we survived the crash…"

Winter raised an eyebrow. "Hmmm…"

The kid may be a rookie, but he seemed to have at least a few good instincts. Winter hadn't even considered that possibility. Maybe their odds of survival weren't so abysmal after all.

"What's your name, soldier?"

The pilot got to his feet and saluted.

"Uh, Jaune Arc, ma'am!" he blurted nervously. "Staff Sergeant Jaune Arc."

Winter chewed on her lip. She felt like she should know that name from somewhere.

"Alright then, Staff Sergeant," she said, taking a deep breath as she mentally prepared herself for the grueling tasks ahead of her. "Let's see how helpful you can really be."

By nightfall, it was clear that they were not going anywhere. The ship was largely intact, but without power, it wasn't going to be flying anytime soon. They had secured the ship's cache of emergency supplies, which included adequate food, water and shelter for at least a week, and while it also included an emergency transponder, Jaune's words had discouraged Winter from activating it. So she resolved to wait the day it would take before their absence would be noticed by someone at Schnee and search parties would be dispatched on their own. After that point, she reasoned, it would safe to activate their transponder, as it would be more likely that it would be reached by local Atlesian military than it would be by any terrorist threat, particularly if their radio silence had convinced their attackers that they hadn't survived.

Winter had wanted to build a campfire to stay warm, but Jaune had advised against that as well, indicating that the smoke would only draw out attackers. Winter had been loathe to forgo the security of a fire – after all, there was more than just terrorist threats out in the wilderness at night - but in the end, she had acquiesced. Instead, for warmth and light, she had fashioned together a space heater of sorts out of spare engine parts that would run on dust crystals. What few crystals they had was insufficient to reactivate the Aeneid unfortunately, but it would at least keep them warm for the night.

They had made shelter some distance away from the crash site, reasoning that should their attackers come to inspect the crash, they should avoid being anywhere nearby, at least for the first night. So, after carefully covering their tracks, they made camp in a nearby cave, less than one klick from where they had crashed, reasoning that if they should need to return to the crash site, they could do so with relative ease if need be, while still keeping far enough away to avoid detection. Still, it had been no easy feat to haul their emergency supplies that far, so by the time they reached the cave, they were both in need of rest.

By the time the sun set, the two of them had hunkered down inside the damp cavern, two bedrolls, a supply of rations, and a makeshift space heater between them, and only the silence to pass the time.

It was cold inside the cave, even with the space heater. But Winter was used to being cold. It was in her name after all. Schnee's were born and raised to be cold, to weather the chilling storms that Remnant threw their way. And Winter was no exception; she made it a point of pride to stand dauntless through the cold. And so she endured.

That did not mean, however, that she must endure in silence.

"So you were a student at Beacon Academy?" she asked bluntly.

Jaune blinked at the unsolicited question. "Umm…yeah. How'd you know?"

Winter was sitting with her back against the cave wall, her pristine white uniform smudged and dirtied from the day's trek through the woods.

"I just remembered where I heard your name before," she said, absently. "I also noticed that you carry a sword in addition to your standard issue Atlesian assault rifle. Many former Huntsmen who join the Atlesian military insist on keeping their old weapons, so it makes sense. But your name is one that I heard from my sister, Weiss...I believe you knew her?"

Jaune lowered his eyes at that, letting out a sigh.

"Yeah…I guess you could say that…"

Curious, Winter narrowed her eyes.

"You found my sister's presence unpleasant, did you?" she asked, a warning tone in her voice.

Jaune held up his hands. "What? No! Nothing like that! Weiss was amazing!"

He scratched his head, looking embarrassed.

"Actually…to tell you the truth, I might have had a bit of a crush on her…"

Winter smiled wanly, her suspicions confirmed. "Ah. So I'm guessing she inevitably shot you down?"

Jaune flinched. "Yeah…not exactly the greatest history there…"

Winter nodded. This aligned well with her worldview. It was fitting that the Schnees should be desired by the rabble in all cases, just as it was fitting that they know their place and be turned away, and that the Schnees save themselves for none but the highest caliber of suitors. Weiss had behaved as she should have by turning away what was clearly an improper suitor. Yet somehow, Winter herself had ended up marooned with that very same suitor out here in the wilderness.

It was somehow poetic. She supposed she could have taken the opportunity to exact sweet schadenfreude from the young man by rubbing his failure in his face, however she was simply not in the proper mood under the circumstances. He was under her protection out here after all, and his assistance may just be something she would need to count on should things take a turn for the worse. Besides, from the look on his face, he had suffered enough at the hands of Schnee women.

"What made you quit being Huntsman?" she queried.

The young pilot actually had the gall to roll his eyes. "You mean since the purge? Not much call for Huntsmen these days, ever since the Atlesian military rose to power."

Winter supposed that was reasonable, although her sister was clearly an exception. The creatures of Grimm had become less and less of a threat since Ironwood's army had all but taken over the world of Remnant. She supposed the members of the Schnee dynasty would always be an exception to the rule, but it was true that there were fewer and fewer ways for a Huntsman to serve his country in this world now.

"So you enlisted?" she asked.

Jaune nodded. "A lot of us did. My whole team disbanded after we graduated. We all sort of went our separate ways after that."

Winter crossed her arms. "You sound bitter."

The blond haired young man looked away. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't. We were a good team, and I really wanted us to stick together. But it just wasn't in the cards, I guess…"

He turned to give Winter an inquisitive look.

"Why the curiosity, if I might ask?" he prodded cautiously. "I mean, I'm just another uniform to you all, aren't I?"

Now it was the Schnee heir apparent's turn to look away.

"We may very well end up having to rely on one another to survive out here," she admitted, eyes hidden behind snow white hair. "If I am to place my life in someone else's hands, I should like to know who exactly I am going to be relying upon."

Jaune shrugged. "Well, I hope a washed up Huntsman-turned-soldier like me is up to the task."

"Hmm," Winter hummed noncommittally and held her hands out closer to the space heater.

Jaune frowned. "Umm…you know, come to think of it, I don't know that much about you either, Miss Schnee. I mean, I know your reputation of course, but…"

Winter nodded, a confident smile on her face. "If you're inquiring as to my combat capabilities, you needn't be concerned. Both my sister and I are capable swordswomen, as well as being masters in the use of glyphs. Being the eldest, I of course have trained for far longer and am the superior to her in both fields. If you were familiar at all with Weiss' strengths upon her graduation, then take that and double it, and you might get some idea of what I am capable of."

Jaune nodded nervously. "I, umm…actually meant, like, what kind of person you are, but…yeah, that's good to know."

Winter eyed the young man curiously. "Why should it matter to you what kind of person I am? I am a capable fighter who can handle herself. Beyond that, I am an executive of the Schnee Dust Company, whose loss would spell certain disaster for the company trust. There is no more to know about me than that."

Jaune frowned at that. "You make it sound like that's all there is to you. Like, all you are is a cog in the machine. Maybe a very big cog, but still just a part of the machine."

Winter looked nonplussed. "Your point being?"

Jaune's eyebrows rose. It wasn't a denial in her words; it was acceptance.

"And you're fine with that?" he asked, bewildered. "Just being a…tool for the company?"

The older woman let out an exhausted sigh. "We all have our roles to play, Staff Sergeant. My sister plays hers. I play mine. And you play yours. Are you so different? Did you not enlist because there was so little else for someone with Huntsman training? Are you not playing your role even now by assisting me out here?"

Jaune gritted his teeth. There was truth to her words, but…

"Well…yeah…" he admitted. "But it's not like I wouldn't help you anyway if I just happened to be here. I mean…some things you do just out of the goodness of your heart, don't you?"

Winter scoffed at the pilot's words. Did he seriously believe the drivel that was spilling from his mouth?

"This world isn't made up of heroes anymore," she said derisively. "This isn't a fairy tale, and you're not some hero protecting the damsel in distress. We're just two people out doing our jobs, and dealing with the consequences of those jobs. That's all."

The skin of the young man's brow tensed at her words, as if they conflicted with something fundamental to his being.

"I don't believe that," he said, stubbornly. "I can't believe that's all there is to it. There has to be more to the world than just blindly following whatever tasks get laid out in front of us like that."

Winter pursed her lips. This conversation was going nowhere.

"I don't expect you to understand, Mister Arc," she said impatiently. "Maybe that naïve idealism worked for you back at Beacon, but this is the real world. And when you don't follow the rules in the real world, it comes back to bite you. Hard."

Jaune simply frowned, arms crossed, sulking.

Winter sighed. She didn't have the patience to deal with this. And she desperately needed sleep.

"We can discuss this in the morning," she said bluntly. "Can I trust you to take the first watch?"

Jaune just nodded, still not making eye contact with her.

Winter laid her head back against the hard stone surface of the cave, draping the bedroll over herself, her saber clutched tightly in her hand. In a moment's notice, she could cast the cover from herself and be on her feet and fighting. Just to be on the safe side, she had cast a glyph beneath herself earlier while Jaune hadn't been watching that would trigger an alarm should anything untoward occur.

She closed her eyes and let sleep overtake her, her mind only on what was to come.

Winter was awoken by the roar of Grimm.

She was on her feet in moments, eyes immediately scanning. The Staff Sergeant in her company was just outside the cave entrance, sword drawn, his back facing her, and somehow, he had a shield in his possession as well, though she had not seen one on him at any time yesterday.

The alarm glyph beneath Winter's feet went off, and she quickly dispelled it, but the sound was enough to draw Jaune's attention away from whatever he was facing, which turned out to be a large alpha-sized beowolf, which took advantage of the distraction to charge.

"Look out!" she cried, raising her sword. She was about to cast a glyph, but the beowolf was already upon him.

To her surprise, however, despite the Grimm's advantage in size, Jaune barely budged.

The beowolf's teeth were clamped around the outstretched blade of his sword, which Jaune held firmly in one hand over his head. In his other, his shield was planted squarely into the beowolf's torso, its claws scratching at it from all sides.

Jaune put one foot in front of the other. And then did so again. And to Winter's amazement, he actually somehow managed to push the beowolf back away from the cave.

"Get…away…from her…" Jaune grunted through gritted teeth.

Just how powerful a huntsman had he been?

Winter knew that she ought to help him, ought to cast a glyph to push the beowolf back, or stand at the man's side and take the opportunity to strike. But something made her hesitate. It wasn't the first time someone had ever fought something on her behalf. It wasn't even the biggest Grimm to have ever come this close to her before. Still, something about the scene before her made her stand and watch.

"Rrrrrryah!" Jaune shouted, shoving his shield forward and sending the beowolf tumbling back.

Something about Jaune's determination, his dauntlessness, his drive to protect her…something about it all made her feel warm inside. He wasn't fighting just because it was his job to do so, or because it was expected of him. He had made that much clear to her the night before.

No, he was not doing this because it was his role to play, but because that was the type of person he was. He was fighting because he chose to. He was protecting her because he chose to.

It felt…nice.

The feeling did not last, however, as after he shoved the beowolf back away from the cave entrance, she caught sight of three more beowolves, doubtless all members of the same pack, and she stepped forward to stand at Jaune's side just beyond the cave entrance.

"Stand aside," she commanded, before waving her saber before her.

All at once, four blue glyphs appeared in the air, each one shooting out a lance of pure aura out towards the attacking beowolves, ensnaring the four of them in crystals of blue, which each rose up into the air, the beowolves struggling futilely within.

With a slash of her sword, each of the blue crystals turned white, before slamming into the ground, shattering to pieces, their prisoners breaking apart in kind.

Winter studied their surroundings to quickly ascertain that the threat had been neutralized, before turning to evaluate Jaune's condition. He had a few scratches, which all seemed to be slowly healing from his aura, but he otherwise appeared to be fine.

She scoffed, turning away.

"It was foolish of you to fight them all by yourself," she said, stepping back into the cave. "You should have woken me."

Jaune smiled weakly, his shield retracting into a scabbard, into which he then sheathed his sword.

"Sorry," he said bashfully, though the adrenaline was wearing off and he was clearly exhausted. "Didn't think they'd be that much of a problem. Wanted to let you sleep."

Winter let out a breath. It appeared there was just no helping him.

"Well, I'm awake now," she sighed. "Why don't you take a break, Jaune? You've earned a rest."

Jaune smiled at that. "Heh…thanks. I think I will…"

Then he promptly slumped onto the cave floor, completely exhausted and nowhere near his bedroll, and closed his eyes.

Winter sighed. There was no helping him at all, it seemed.

"…Idiot…" she muttered, before collecting his bedroll and draping it over him so he wouldn't freeze to death.

She then sat down next to him, keeping a watchful eye out, and didn't move until sunrise.

A next day, their ride came in the form of three Atlesian military Bullhorns, each flying the sigil of the Schnee Dust Company. To Winter's surprise, Weiss herself was aboard one of them. She supposed she shouldn't have been surprised, however. Weiss had always looked up to her, so it was only natural that, as a full borne Huntress, she would have spearheaded the search party to find her.

"Winter!" she exclaimed, dashing from the open hatch and running up to her. "I was so worried! I mean…" she suddenly schooled her emotions. "…I trust you are unharmed?"

Winter nodded warmly, her normally pristine suit and hair looking bedraggled and worn from the night spent in the woods, as the mechanized troops filed out of the Bullhorn, securing the area. In the sky, there were more Bullhorns clearly visible, no doubt securing the crash site to recover the Aeneid as well.

"I am fine, Weiss," she assured the younger Schnee girl. "In no small part thanks to this young man here…"

She gestured to where Jaune was standing, but was surprised to find that he had donned his helmet, which hid his eyes and his identity.

Weiss simply curtseyed in appreciation, taking note of his stripes. "Thank you for aiding my sister, Sergeant. I'll see to it that your performance is commended to your commanding officer."

Jaune nervously saluted, his voice adopting a deeper tone to mask his identity further.

"Uh, yes ma'am," he replied. "All in the line of duty, ma'am."

Weiss nodded, before ushering her sister towards the Bullhorn, but Winter simply waved her off.

"I'll be right there, Weiss," she said, giving Jaune a pointed glance.

When Weiss was out of earshot, Winter leaned in to whisper.

"You do not wish to say hello to her?" she asked. "After all these years? She was your classmate, was she not?"

Jaune fidgeted uncomfortably. "Nah…it would just make things awkward. She's better off forgetting about me."

Winter crossed her arms. "You're so sure of that?"

Jaune let out a defeated sigh. "It's like you said…we all have our roles to play."

Winter pursed her lips. It was something she had thought long and hard on through the night as she remained on guard by his side. Weiss had her role to play, and it was that of a Huntress. But that didn't mean that she wouldn't come flying in at a moment's notice to rescue her sister. Jaune had his role to play as well, as a soldier. But that didn't stop him from going above and beyond the line of duty to protect her when she needed it most.

What was to be her role to play down the line? Must she remain so rigidly bound to it? Did it not allow for some flexibility that she might deviate from the path every so often?

She supposed that only time was to tell.

"Yes we do, Jaune…" she smiled, putting a hand on his shoulder. "And your role is that of a hero."

She leaned in and placed a kiss on his cheek, which caused him to blush and recoil, red-faced.

"Wh-wh-wh…wha…?" he gasped out loudly, putting a hand where she had kissed him.

Her lips had been surprisingly warm.

"Winter!" Weiss called out to her from the Bullhorn. "Come on!"

The Schnee heir apparent turned to go, turning her head to keep her eyes on the young soldier.

"Never forget that," she said, before stepped onto the aircraft to join her sister.

Jaune stood in stunned silence as she watched her go.

As the Bullhorn took off, Jaune was ushered onto one of the remaining craft with the rest of the soldiers. Later, he would learn that one of his commanding officers who had assigned him to this mission was a White Fang sympathizer who had set Jaune up to be the fall guy. While the officer had been dishonorably discharged and sentenced to jail time, Jaune himself had received a promotion for his actions.

Jaune couldn't bring himself to be angry about being set up. Because as unfortunate as the incident had been, it had still given him the opportunity to be a hero, at least for a day. It would later spurn him into joining the elite guard, which would eventually allow him the opportunity to become one of the Schnee family's personal bodyguards. But for the time being, he was content to have made a difference in one woman's life.

Even if that woman was as cold as winter.