"I just want to live life doing ordinary things done in ordinary ways."

Jaune Arc was normal. Normal in the sense that he was like anyone else in the world when they saw someone they loved. He did not stand and gawk at his sister, nor did he walk forward and extend his arms out for a soft embrace.

He ran at her; injuries be damned. Crashing into her, Jaune heard that damn sword she brought clatter to the ground. Saphron supported his weight easily, and he felt a pair of arms wrap around him. Golden hair tickled his neck, the scent of cinnamon and something else, fresh like citrus. Warm air tickled his ear as she whispered, "Still my adorable baby brother,"

"Shut up," he kept his voice quiet, so low that only she could hear it. Saphron only laughed, as one of her hands went to his head, and he could feel slender fingers run through his hair. He always enjoyed that, and she remembered. "I missed you."

Saphron pulled back, her smile as wide as could be. Doubtless, she'll tell the rest of the girls about how their sweet brother got all sappy when he saw her. There would be annoying scroll calls, but he didn't regret his decision. Sisters would always be the bane of a brother's existence, but that didn't change how much he cared about them.

Now he hoped Saphron would contact the girls. It would give them a reason to call so he could hear their voices again.

"How was your mission?" Jaune could see her shoulder's tense, before immediately relaxing. She raked his head again and playfully shoved him away.

"None of your business, baby brother." She smiled for him, but it was clear as day that it was forced, even painful. But he would not comment now. There was unwanted company.

Saphron kicked the sword up into her hand and held it out for him, which earned her a frown from him. Happy as he was to see his sister, the weapon that was offered was an even bigger eyesore than the cane Ozpin had offloaded onto him.

It wasn't as if taking the family heirloom was accepting a Huntsman's life. While at Beacon, he would need a weapon to defend himself, and it was Crocea Mors that was the most familiar to him.

Weapon or not, Jaune passed Beacon's initiation. His place in the school was assured, and complaining to the headmaster wasn't going to solve his predicament nor would denying the family sword. Like before, he needed to stay under the radar. No matter how badly Ozpin wanted him here, eventually, he would have to let him go.

Saphron could only raise a brow in response to his silence. He sighed and reluctantly accepted Crocea Mors. The familiar weight should have made him angrier, but it gave him a sense of ease, lifting the tension from his shoulders. Lucifer had once told him that a Huntsman surrounded by enemies was at their calmest when with their weapon.

The fact that he considered Ozpin and Goodwitch as enemies was not lost on him.

"Honestly," she rolled her eyes. "The closet, Jaune? I think my nose has gone blind after rummaging through your clothes. You owe me, baby brother." Her finger stabbed his chest, making him wince.

"Still tender, Saph!"

"Don't be such a whiner." She rubbed his head, making his messy hair even wilder. No doubt, he looked like an unruly child. He batted her hand aside, glaring at her like any normal brother would when being treated like a little kid. Saphron didn't seem to mind; she even smiled, one that seemed more natural than her rigidness from before. Good. If he could help her relax then he'll act like the biggest baby in all of Remnant.

Jaune couldn't help but worry still. Did something happen on her mission? Did someone get hurt? Was Saphron hurt? There were so many questions he wanted to ask, so much time he wanted to spend with her before she inevitably left for another mission.

Headmaster Ozpin coughed into his closed fist, getting the attention of the siblings. "Mr. Arc, you no doubt wish to spend quality time with your sister, but I am afraid there is something she and I need to discuss." Ozpin raised a hand, stopping Jaune from arguing. "Once we are done, all her attention will be yours."

Saphron's laugh came out more like a snort. "Not all my attention. I have a life outside of teasing my siblings." The Huntress looked at her little brother. They did not exchange any words, but Jaune saw the silent apology, as well as a promise to spend more time together before she left.

It was the same as always. One moment she's back as if nothing happened, and within the week, Saphron goes off on another adventure. It made Jaune sick. But she always came back. It was a small comfort, but a comfort to him nonetheless.

"I'll leave you to it," Jaune said. He fixed the headmaster a glare, but the man didn't seem to register him as a threat. Ozpin simply smiled and told him to be with his new team before they start to worry.

"Get to know them, Mr. Arc. I do not wish for you to see Beacon as a prison, but to view it as a home." Blue eyes locked to brown, both unblinking. Jaune's were filled with rebellion, a promise that this would not be as easy as the man seemed to think it would be. Ozpin's seemed to hold nothing.

Jaune was the first to break eye contact and moved toward the elevator. Saphron gave him a supportive smile that he returned in kind. As he went through the open elevator, he paused. "Sooner or later, you'll come to realize I can't be here. That I don't belong here."

The door began to close.

"And then this chapter of my life can finally close."

Ozpin could not help but smile as he heard the young man's parting words. Mr. Arc was a fighter, despite what he may say. Like a Huntsman, he would hunt and fight for the prize he so desperately wishes to claim.

"You usually don't lay it on so thick," Saphron said, and once again, blue eyes and brown met, and the young woman's was the same but so very different. Where her brother had defiance, a willingness to fight even Ozpin for a chance to reach his goals, it ultimately lacked the weight of a promise that his rebellion would bear any fruit. This woman, this Huntress, had the eyes of someone who would go against the world for her loved ones. There was no question that she had the ability and resolve to do just that.

Though whether Saphron could make a difference in his plans was a minor concern. She was dangerous, but he was beyond her. Usually, only the arrogant hold such thoughts, but he had lived for so long, made so many mistakes in his life that all the lessons learned in defeat forged him into a Huntsman that few could match.

However, this body, this vessel would soon be too old for battle.

"What is it that you find so special about the boy?" Glynda crossed her arms, raising a finely kept brow to feign the question as a casual curiosity.

"I assure you, my decision to admit Mr. Arc into Beacon is important. The young man has potential, the potential to tip the scales in our favor. And so it is my duty as a teacher to ensure he reaches that potential."

"Ozpin…" Saphron said in a low voice as she moved to his desk. Glynda's foot shifted to the left, a subtle and unnoticeable indication of her intent to intervene should the young woman attack. His visitor did nothing to warrant such action and took her seat across the desk from him.

For the second time, they stared into one another's eyes. There was that defiance again, but also intrigue. Ah, Saphron wanted to see if there was something he wanted to hide. Not very discreet of her, but few could hide behind a mask so effortlessly. Only those who have lied throughout their entire lives could keep their intentions buried, never to be revealed. He should know. There was no better liar than he, no other man who had secrets and regrets that he wished to keep hidden under lock and key. Part of him envied how Saphron could express her feelings with eye contact alone. It would seem that every Arc was the same in that regard. They all wore their hearts on their sleeves.

It was beautiful. But one day, it may be the death of her.

"My brother isn't some secret badass, you know. Sure, his aura is crazy, and he can use it better than most his age, but that hardly makes him some kind of god." Saphron explained, and within those azure orbs, many would be hard-pressed to find anything but raw concern for her brother.

But Ozpin found something else. Behind the worry from a concerned older sister, there was something else entirely, and while Saphron genuinely believed her brother was not fit for Beacon, the woman was hiding something. What that was, he already knew.

"At his current state no," he admitted, earning curious gazes from both women in his office. He sipped at the rich hot chocolate on his desk, hiding a smile behind the porcelain. "But in time, when his body is properly conditioned he will reach the same heights that you and Cerise accomplished."

It truly was a shame that the oldest of the Arc siblings studied in Atlas. Cerise would have flourished here in Beacon, but instead, she went down the same path as Winter Schnee. Although, perhaps it is for the best that other kingdoms had such powerful protectors.

"Ozpin, even if you are correct about him." Glynda did not hide her doubts about his belief. "Four years at Beacon won't bridge the gap. It's not enough time."

"Perhaps that would be the case if he began without a proper foundation," he began, as he placed his scroll on the table.

The desk reacted, connecting to the scroll and allowing a holographic video to come on display. The events of Beacon's initiation played before them, specifically Jaune Arc's involvement. To any other professor at a Huntsmen academy, it was an… average performance at best even accounting for his skill with aura. Anyone not paying specific attention to the young man may have missed it entirely. Ozpin had been looking for it, though, and that was, unfortunately, the young man's detriment. He adjusted his spectacles, a smile sliding across his face.

Jaune did not have the body of a Huntsman, true. His strength, speed, and reflexes were all average. As for his stamina, it was a crippling weakness that any opponent could exploit if they were not confident enough to defeat him outright. The boy's determination — the will to keep fighting to survive — somewhat offsets that. It is a powerful tool, that fierce survival instinct of his would take the young man far.

From a glance, Lucifer's son lacked any talent, just a simple boy who was better off living a simple life. If Remnant were a gentler world, then Ozpin would have gladly allowed the boy such an honest, peaceful dream. But humanity did not inherit such a planet. This world was twisted, broken, and unforgiving. Protecting those who could not defend themselves was why Huntsmen and Huntresses were needed. Why Jaune was needed.

The young man tried to hide it, but there was an apparent level of skill that went beyond many of his new peers at Beacon. The technical ability was there, and so was the knowledge on how to combat the Grimm. He was direct and to the point. No wasted movement. Excellent awareness. Every strike was direct, fast and Ozpin would dare say brutal. Jaune Arc fought like a man who could cleave through an Ursa's mass with a single swing of his sword. No one could fight like that without once having the body to accomplish such feats.

But perhaps the most important thing was how Jaune carried himself. He was always on guard, always looking for any form of deceit. Something had happened to the boy to make him so cynical. And yet despite his cynicism, he wished for something so naive. The young man reminded Ozpin of himself. Both knew the unfairness of the world, yet still, they dreamed the impossible dream of a life that did not need violence—an ordinary life with an ordinary ending.

"Mr. Arc is skilled," Ozpin finally spoke after the final moments of Jaune's brief encounter with the Nevermore ended. "One cannot hold the prowess he possesses without once having the physicality for them." He let his thoughts be known, but he did not need to when the evidence was in front of Saphron.

Saphron, to her credit, did not lash out in anger. She even calmed her rage by releasing a long breath.

"The body can be strengthened, but it is difficult to master techniques, techniques your brother already seems to have a good understanding of."

"Sir," she raised her hand up, stopping him from speaking any further. "As much as talking about my baby brother is so riveting. I didn't come here for that."

Ozpin gave a low hum, conceding to his former student. There were more important matters to discuss. Jaune Arc was not the center of the universe, and he never will be. "My apologies, Saphron. Did you find any leads then?"

The heavy sigh from the woman was expected, but no less saddening. "No," she said. "I went to Misenwood, the last place she was seen. Villagers said she was heading toward Swinford for a festival."

"A settlement on the border of Vale, correct?" Glynda asked.

"Yeah," Saphron said, in a tone that suggested that any hope she may have had died. "But when I got there the village had fallen."

"Survivors?"

Saphron looked away from them both at Glynda's question. It was confirmation enough.

"I'm so sorry," he meant it. To hear of another tragedy still held weight on his weathered heart. For every settlement saved, it always seemed that two others would fall. They're best wasn't good enough and at times it seemed nothing could change that.

"Perhaps she fell with Swinford," he continued, hoping to dash any hope that Saphron may have. As cruel as it was, Ozpin did it for her own good. There would be no heartwarming reunion in the woman's future. For this was an impossible task that Saphron gave herself. And it was because of yet another mistake he made, one of the hundreds if not thousands. No, perhaps that number has very well surpassed one million. Who could say, really? Mistakes were meant to be a learning experience, and yet Ozpin couldn't stop making them no matter how desperately he tried.

"Don't be ridiculous," she spat. "This is my partner we're talking about."

"Huntresses are not invincible," Glynda warned, earning a scowl from the younger woman.

"Never said that, oh wise mentor." She crossed one leg over the other and rested against the back of her seat. "Besides, the real reason I know she wasn't there was the condition of the terrain. It doesn't add up. No sign of scorched earth or buildings out of place from sudden hurricanes which means her ridiculous semblance wasn't ever used. That means she got out before or after Swinford fell."

Saphron began to smile again, no doubt reminiscing about her partner now. She was confident in her deduction, as she should be. Everything the young woman said was correct. Even so...

"It doesn't change the simple fact that she's gone," Ozpin spoke softly, but it did not dull how sharp those words were to Saphron. She visibly recoiled, stunned at his dismissive tone. Truthfully, this was not a conversation he wanted to take part in, but for someone who was once his student, he would stop her from finding a heartache that she would never recover from.

Cruel this may be, heartless even. But he would not allow someone to waste years of their life chasing a ghost. Better for her to accept the loss now than to let hope slowly die among torturous years of searching.

"I know you don't want to hear that," he spoke again as his hand went above Saphron's, giving hers' a soft comforting squeeze. He felt the girl tremble. Whether it was from rage at his cruel remark, or barely contained sorrow it did not stop his hand from remaining on hers'. "But it's been two months now. You need to move on."

"It's only been two months!" She snapped her hand away, bolting from her chair. "What, you want me to just forget about her?!" The Huntress glared down at him, and all the rage she must have felt these four long months of failed searching that had simmered under the surface was on display. Ozpin accepted it all because the fault was his alone.

Saphron's rage was justified. Two months normally wouldn't deserve such callous dismissal from him. After all, Huntsmen can find themselves in situations where they are unable to communicate to the kingdoms. Whether because their scrolls were destroyed, or because they find themselves so deep in Grimm territory that a single moment glancing at an LED screen is all a Beowolf needs to pounce target.

If this were any other Huntsmen, Ozpin would have given them another month, two perhaps if they were more skilled than most others. But he already knew the fate of his former student. Monsters did defeat her, but they were the kind that wore human skin.

His deputy stood next to Saphron to perhaps grasp her shoulder. Glynda stopped, and instead held the younger woman's hand. Ozpin saw the gentle squeeze she gave. "Perhaps you should rest. No one wants you to work until collapse. Certainly not your team."

"I'm a Huntress," she whispered. "I can handle this."

"Despite popular belief, we are not weapons." Ozpin rose from his seat, walking to the windows overlooking Beacon. He continued to stare at the two women behind him through their reflection, but after a few short moments of silence, he looked over his cherished school. "We are not cold metal that cannot feel, nor do we never tire. We are alive just like any other ordinary person. We are susceptible to powerful emotions that can make us stronger like love, but it can also cripple us with heartache should something threaten that love."

He touched the window, blocking the image of a worn man. The urge to lean against the glass was strong, as was the darkness that crept in his vision. He was so tired. So very tired.

"I am not saying to forget her. Love and cherish the memories you have of her when her presence was a constant." Better to remember the warmth of someone than the coldness of their skin against your own as you cradle their body. "But this searching... it's fruitless. The long road ahead should you choose to continue will not have the happy ending you envision. The truth will be chilling, Saphron. It may break you."

"You know something, don't you."

Ozpin released a long breath. "No." The lie came easily as it always did. "This is the fate of many Huntresses. She has not contacted you for two months."

"Her scroll could be broken."

"And she would be responsible enough to either repair her scroll or purchase another." While communications with her were lost to him long ago, Saphron and her team always received calls from her at the beginning and end of every month. They were family, after all. Not by blood, but through the bonds they forged. "I don't wish to sound callous, but I will not lie to you. Often it is said that the truth is cruel, and that lies must be a kindness. But the reality, as horrible as it is to hear will help you heal sooner. I will not give you false hope just so you may feel a modicum of joy that will taste like ash when you realize the terrible truth yourself."

"Amber wouldn't give up on me..."

It was whispered softly, yet it cut through Ozpin's composure like a hot knife through butter. He released a long, sad sigh. Another mistake. Another regret. And Amber was not the only one to suffer for being the Fall Maiden. Saphron, and no doubt the rest of her team suffer now. But they can never know the truth. Amber's fate shall forever be hidden from those she cherished most.

More secrets. More mistakes. Ozpin had and made so many that his tears dried long ago. Yet despite his experience, his heart began to ache once more, and this tired vessel like it did hundreds of other times felt the weight of the world on its shoulders.

Will this nightmare ever reach its conclusion?

"Sir,"

Ozpin looked his right, his body still facing the window. Glynda stood by his side, looking him up and down with raw concern. The woman he trusted the most on this planet held his arm with her featherlike touch.

"Where is Saphron?" So lost in thought, Ozpin didn't even realize her absence until now. He looked at his school again, taking in the sight of what he helped create. He almost smiled, marveling at one of the few good things he accomplished that could still be seen. While Ozpin made a great number of mistakes, he did better the world. There were lives that improved with his presence. But that was so long ago, and no one would ever know about the people he saved. The people whose hearts he touched. The people he came to love and who loved him in return. They were gone now, and no one but he would remember them.

Beacon, however still stood. As did all the academies that he helped establish. Ozpin cared not for the fame or glory of such an achievement. Such naive goals have long lost their once brilliant luster. But he can proudly say that the academies were his legacy. The day he can finally rest, it will be with a smile knowing that the people of Remnant would be protected by his students.

"She left a few minutes ago," Glynda looked at the scenery before them. Did she marvel at what still stood as well? Or did the sight lose its majesty to her long ago? "Sir, should we really keep the truth from her?"

The great sigh that escaped him was the only answer she needed. Still, he spoke. "It is necessary. Saphron is an exceptional Huntress, and a wonderful individual. But her allegiance is with her family and them alone."

"You trust Qrow..."

"I do. And while I do not doubt that his family is more important to him, we have known him since before he found such happiness." It was Beacon, and by extension Ozpin who gave him purpose, to live a better life than that of a bandit. Nobody wanted Qrow because of the misfortune that follows him. No one but team STRQ and himself. And Qrow had two nieces that meant the world to him as a result.

And it all began with Beacon. Began with Ozpin.

"Saphron has always been surrounded by love. And while Beacon introduced another family for her to cherish, that does not mean she trusts me implicitly or that she ever will." He had once considered bringing Lucifer into the fold when the man was still a student at Beacon, but he has always cared more about his loved ones than doing the greater good. Saphron would be no different.

Ozpin could not fault the man for his dedication to family. To once challenge the very world for his children deserved Ozpin's respect, but nothing more. Much like his children, Lucifer would rebel for the sake of what he wanted. What such a powerful man as he desired was the safety of his family. He was a father before he was a Huntsman.

"I still do not like this..."

"Leave it be," he silenced her but offered a smile that he hoped conveyed his silent apology. "Saphron is strong, but more importantly, she has people that care for her. She will survive this as she has done every trial that has come before her."

It was easy to say but so difficult to believe. To simply abandon hope that the person you love is gone is an arduous task. It had taken Ozpin years to understand that the woman he loved was gone, and even more to overcome his heartache. Even now, after all these years he cannot help but look back on happier times with a melancholy smile.

"Retire for the night," Ozpin said, earning a resigned nod from his deputy. She wished him a good night and left without another word. He was alone again. Alone with his memories and his plans for the uncertain future.

The intricate clockwork mechanisms of his tower continued turning. The machinery was a constant, and always put him at ease. Many would find his office to have too many distracting noises to concentrate. To Ozpin the cogs and gears served as a quiet reminder that his plans were still in motion despite any setback that may come his way.

Ozpin took in the view of his school once again and as always the lights that illuminated Beacon expelled his fatigue. A smile had blossomed from seeing his academy stand firm and proud.

His smiling reflection flickered and then frowned at him. His breath hitched as brown eyes that were not Ozpin's looked at him with pity. "What are we doing?"

The same question from all those generations ago. It shook him, but Ozpin did not recoil in horror as he did the first time. "What is best for Remnant and its people."

"And lying to Saphron accomplishes such a lofty goal?"

"Revealing the truth to her would be foolish. Saphron loves her family, and would no doubt tell them of the threat that looms over Remnant. Lucifer would no doubt share such information with the world. It would lead to panic, and panic draws the Grimm."

"What of the boy? How will imposing your will on his lead to the salvation of Remnant?"

"Curious," Ozpin gave a small smile to the soul he thought faded long ago. "How is it that we are having this conversation? I had thought you gone. It has been many years since we've engaged in banter. Not that I am displeased, mind you." He added after his reflection gave him an unimpressed glare.

"Who knows. Perhaps this is all in your head. You are growing in years, it's only natural that you've begun to go senile." The man's chocolate eyes became slits. "And you are dodging the question."

"My plans are my own."

"Ah yes, you and your secrets. And your need for keeping that mental block is as infuriating as ever. Even when I was still the dominant soul, the locks around your mind always prevented me from gleaning anything from you. And yet despite all my efforts, my thoughts were never my own." He sighed, and for the first time, they mirrored each other.

"I am sorry, Ozpin."

The reflection stiffened at the given name. His nostrils flared as he exhaled. Shaking his head, he smiled softly. It was worn, and strained, a smile that could only belong to a broken man.

"I believe that name belongs to you now, Ozma."

Ozpin's reflection flickered. Shimmered.

The man staring back at Ozpin was himself again. The unexpected conversation had shaken him, but already he missed the specter's company. No. Perhaps his brain was performing vital reactions to cope with his stress, bringing back memories of the man Ozpin was once so close too. That had to be the case. For even now, as he probed every inch and corner of his very being he found that he was still one entity. One mind. One soul.

Whether it was the ember of a once blazing soul or just the echo of a memory changed nothing. What did matter was the doubt that made his throat tighten as if a snake was coiling around his neck. Once again he was alone with his thoughts, but this time the absence of those he trusted was agonizing.

Her smiling face flashed before his eyes.

"Is this what it felt like for you?" Ozpin spoke to no one. He didn't fully understand it himself, but the sound of his voice helped calm his troubled mind. Did she do the same thing all those years ago? "How did you endure being alone in that tall tower?"

No one answered him. She certainly didn't.

For one fleeting moment, a mere second that almost went unnoticed to Ozpin, he imagined the turning gears in his lonely tower stop. Then they continued as always in perfect harmony.

"You're back?" Blake was still awake when he returned, engrossed in the same book she had been reading the night before, despite that it was at least ten at night and they had lessons the next day. From the light snoring, he could tell that Ruby was already asleep, perhaps Weiss too. "Is that the mythical sword in the closet?"

"Guess Ruby told you," Jaune stepped into the room, resting Crocea Mors on the vacant bed next to his partner. She stirred, her little nose pinching from the unwanted sounds of conversation. He lowered his voice. "My sister stopped by to drop it off."

Blake hummed, flipping to the next page, her outline seemed to shimmer in the light from the window. She was dressed in black pajamas that dangerously exposed her thighs. It took every ounce of his willpower not to stare at those creamy legs. Thankfully, she was so absorbed in the story his ogling went unnoticed.

"Everything go okay?" she asked softly. "Did your outburst after being named team leader get you in trouble?"

"Ozpin seemed more amused from that than anything," he sat down as he answered, pulling one boot off than the other. "The old man just wanted me to retrieve Crocea Mors, my weapon." Jaune tilted his head toward the sword as an indication.

"You seem dissatisfied being team leader," Blake said, her eyes never trailing away from the novel. "Most people would have been ecstatic."

"I can't imagine you wanting the job."

"You would be right. I'm not interested in leading. Honestly, I'm just happy it's someone other than Weiss."

"Amen to that," he could at least be pleased to not have Weiss boss him around. Although, he wouldn't put it past the heiress to still act as a voice of authority. His short time in Beacon was beginning to look more asinine than he anticipated.

Weiss had doubts about his position, and he agreed with her wariness. Jaune was the last person one would expect to lead Huntresses. If anyone on his team should lead, it would be Weiss given her station. The rich girl undoubtedly knew this and must have found the choice to make him leader as an insult.

She couldn't very well complain to Ozpin. Which meant that Jaune would have to deal with it. Well as team leader he would do what was expected. Sit back and do nothing while giving the occasional order to leave him alone.

After all the nonsense of the semester is done and over with, Jaune would get kicked out of Beacon. He'd fail every class and embarrass himself every day if that's what it took to leave. His smile must have turned vicious because Blake looked up from her book for the first time since he arrived.

"Do I even want to know?"

Jaune wanted to laugh but wisely chose not to in fear of waking the girls up. He'd feel bad disturbing Ruby's rest, but it was Weiss that he expected a cold agonizing death from for such a transgression.

"Just imagining Weiss throwing a temper tantrum when I boss her around."

Blake smiled.

He mirrored the beautiful image as best he could.

As Blake went back to reading, his hand found Crocea Mors and squeezed the scabbard. The cold familiar metal was a small comfort for the path ahead. His smile faltered.

It sickened him.

Man this year is crazy.

That aside, I was wondering if there's someone out there who'd be a beta reader for this story. It's getting difficult for me to find the mistakes myself at times, and the person I'd usually go to is too busy these days. I'm throwing it out there is all.