Summary: She was cold, and she was also feared by many, even her own brother feared her. She had long ago accepted that she was dangerous. She was fine with being alone, she was a loner anyway. She was sure that even her own blood would fear her to. Yet she didn't think she could ever bear her son fearing her, even if they're not related by blood.

Death

It was a natural occurrence. For without death, the natural order of things would be disrupted. Without death, there would be chaos, and without death, old generations would never pass on. After all, if there was no death, why should the older generation entrust the future to the next generation? No, death, while sad and solemn, was necessary. For without death, nothing would die out, as they should.

This was something that Raven Branwen had long ago accepted. Don't get her wrong, she hated when people died, especially when they were ones she held attachment to. But she had accepted that not everyone can be saved. For every person she saved, thousands more died. A grim outlook to be sure, but it was an outlook that she found never failed her.

It was why she stopped being a Huntress. After all, why bother saving one person, if thousands more just die in their place? It was impossible to save everyone. Other Huntresses could try all they want they could be as heroic as they pleased. It didn't change the fact that people die. Whether it because of Grimm, Human or Faunus. People die.

Thus, Raven was indifferent to death, she was apathetic towards it. Don't get her wrong. If she could save someone in trouble, she'd help them. But she would remember that with that person saved, another or maybe more would just die anyway.

And thus, as Raven looked upon the carnage of death and destruction in front of her, only indifference and apathy was set in her crimson gaze.

Such a pity She thought as she gazed upon the fairly large town. Fires burned and licked at the buildings, blood trailing down the streets of the Town as if someone had taken a mop and decided to get messy. The village was built miles away from Vale. If she wasn't mistaken, Raven believed that it would take a day, maybe two to reach Vale from here. That also worked the other way as well.

The town itself was built in the middle of large grassland. The sight of large trees a mile or two away, a fairly large cement wall was built around that town to prevent the Grimm from entering. Several gun emplacements stationed on the walls to help in that regard. Yet, as Raven looked upon the wall and gun emplacements, a scowl formed on her lips.

I bet those helped a lot when the Grimm came clawing at their doors. Was the thought that rang through her mind as got closer to the town. She knew this was the work of the Grimm, the claw marks running along down the walls, along with a few sections of the walls looking like something had smashed through confirmed that for her. The cynical part of her thought of the people's screams of horror and terror as the Grimm got passed the walls and proceeded to butcher them.

Another part of her felt a twinge of sadness and regret. Regret that she didn't arrive sooner. As she walked by the main entrance gate into the town, she caught sight of lingering Grimm. Small groups Beowulf's and Ursa's all gnawing on fresh corpses that littered the streets. Overturned cars, a few Bullheads, and sections of a few houses, and other buildings shattered down, and the insides left bare for the Grimm to enter freely.

Her Crimson orbs caught sight of a few scattered weapons, standard issued pistols, rifles, along with a few swords and knives. A deep frown marred her face.

They tried to fight back, but ultimately failed. A snort of disdain escaped her lips. Civilians should have evacuated, not try to fight a losing battle, prideful fools. If there was one thing that Raven hated, it was people who did not know how to fight entering a battlefield. Fools who usually entered a battlefield without any form of experience or training always ended up the same. Dead before anyone else their short lives only serving as both a temporary distraction, and cannon fodder.

Casually, the long, black haired woman unsheathed her crimson long-sword, using it to bisect a Beowulf who was bold enough to try and attack her.

She flicked her sword, the blood of the Grimm she killed flying off it as she just as quickly returned her blade to its sheath. Her crimson red orbs glanced around, seeing a few more Grimm who hid in buildings, feasting upon the caress of the dead. Human and Faunus alike, she only blinked as she caught sight of a Beowulf chewing the leg of an infant.

She ignored the brief pang of sadness in her heart as she pushed forward, keeping her dispassionate expression firmly on her face. She looked up for a moment, seeing a few Nevermore flying around, screeching as they flew over head. A deeper roar told her that Griffon's were within the area. As she walked passed a small restaurant, she spared a small glance inside. The sight of an Ursa tearing apart a overweight man gave her a dark sense of amusement.

I bet all that weight didn't help a bit when that Ursa came to feast upon you. It was a known fact that, besides Goliaths, Ursa's were relatively the easiest to escape from. Unless of course you were severely overweight and never ran a day in your life. As she left behind the restaurant, something else caught her eye. A fairly large house a bit in the distance, it was almost like a mansion, but smaller. A small manor so to speak, it was only a bit smaller than the Townhall, but it was nonetheless sizable.

This particular house caught Raven's attention because of the large symbol that was engraved upon the house's main doorway. That is the symbol of the Arc family... As she finished that train of thought, she began moving towards the house, her hand unsheathing her blade to behead a Griffon who tried to attack her from behind. Her sword was placed back in its sheath just as quickly as she resumed her trek towards the Arc household. Her stride not breaking as she occasionally cut down a few Grimm who thought she would be an easy kill. As the Branwen got closer to the home, she was able to notice the damage she had not seen at a distance. A few scorch marks, cracks along the walls, a large hole in the roof, and a majority of the windows were broken.

She reached the front door, and she frowned as caught sight of the smashed wood on the floor. The door was forced opened, and judging by the claw marks, it was no doubt a Grimm. Possibly a Beowulf, she stepped inside, and the smell of blood and death almost instantly flooded her nostrils. She glanced around, and her crimson orbs caught sight of the blood splattered along the walls and floor. Claws marks were decorating the floor and walls, along with marks that told Raven that someone with a sword fought back.

She pressed onward, and as she reached the living room, she saw a Beowulf feasting upon the corpse of a male. Clutched in the corpse's hand was a sword, and Raven recognized the blade as the Arc heirloom. Crocea Mors. Glancing around, Raven caught sight of another Beowulf, feasting upon the corpse of a female, a wedding ring on the caresses hand. Raven looked closer at the male's corpse, and caught sight of the wedding ring on his hand.

A married couple, did they have children? She glanced around, and she stopped her gaze as she caught sight of a blood trail leading out of the living room and deeper into the hall. Following the blood trail, she found it leading towards the basement. She went down, and she stopped at the sight. Children…. All female, their bodies riddled with claw marks.

They must have thought they'd be safe within the basement. She thought as she stared at the bodies. Closely her eyes, Raven sighed before heading back up the stairs. She returned to the living room, before she proceeded to behead the Beowulf feasting upon the woman's corpse. She upon the woman's corpse, and for the first time, her eyes expressed sadness as she stared at the woman. More specifically, her round stomach that no doubt had once housed another being, this woman was pregnant. And judging by appearance, she was only fourth months along. Briefly shutting her eyes, Raven turned her attention to the other Beowulf feasting on the man's corpse.

She bisected the beast, and she looked at the man's corpse. Kneeling, she gently pried Crocea Mors from the man's hand. She looked at the blade for a moment, before looking closely at the man's corpse searching for the weapon's sheath. Scowling as she failed to find its sheath, she glanced around, before seeing a shield that was thrown aside. Approaching, she crouched and picked up the shield. She stared at the shield, lingering on the Arc crest upon for a moment.

Idly, she fiddled with it, before, to her slight surprise, it retracted a formed into a suitable sheath. Quirking a brow, Raven sheathed Crocea Mors into its sheath. As she stared at the weapon in her hand, it occurred to Raven that she was holding one of the last pieces of the now deceased Arc family. Hesitantly, she strapped the blade to her waist, right next to her own weapon. Turning, Raven was prepared to leave the house, if it weren't for one thing.

The wail that reached her ears, the cry seemed to echo around the entire house, and Raven's blood almost ran cold as she recognized it. It was the same wail that her recently born daughter, Yang, gave when she birthed her. It was the wail of an infant.

Within an instant, Raven shot up the stairs where the wail came from. Stopping at a bedroom door, Raven wasted no time in kicking it open. She glared menacingly at the sight of a Beowulf clutching a male infant in its clawed hand's, its mouth opened as its intention to devour the infant would have been obvious for even an idiot.

The Beowulf stopped, and stared at her almost bemusedly, its ears shooting up as it tilted its head. Within an instant, Raven shot forth, stopping in front of the beast, crimson sword in hand as it passed through the Beowulf twice in succession before she sheathed it. Casually, Raven pried the wailing infant from the Beowulf's hands, turning as the beast erupted in a sea of blood as it was torn into three separate pieces.

With the beast dealt with, Raven stared at the infant in her arms, his wails having stopped completely as he stared at her innocently with big blue eyes. Raven's crimson orbs blinked along with infants blue ones as they stared. As she stared, a thought occurred in Raven's mind. I am holding the last of the Arcs. This child is the last of their legacy… Raven frowned slightly, and she quirked a brow as the infant gurgled before yawning and rest its head on her breast. Unconsciously, Raven gently tightened her grip on the child.

I guess the first stop would be to leave you at an orphanage little one. The thought brought a frown on Raven's face. Leaving the last legacy of the Arcs in some random orphanage left a sour taste in her mouth. It was… A complete and utter waste, this child had the potential to be something great, something that would leave a mark on this world. There was no doubt in Raven's mind that any orphanage would waste this boy's potential.

She briefly considered leaving it with her brother, but then she realized that her brother would never be ready for a child. She loved her brother that much was certain. But she just couldn't help but think of how disappointing he's become as of late. True, he was one of the best Huntsmen in the world, his skill with a scythe second to none, while his skill with a blade being second only to hers. But she just couldn't help but think of that deplorable drinking habit he had gotten. It had softened him, made him weak.

She briefly considered Taiyang, before she shrugged that thought away. The man was pathetic. Seriously being broken over her leaving him? She had always thought that he had a weak will, and she was right. The fool was lucky he had Summer to help him get over her. It had also put things in retrospect for Raven. After all, if she was right about how Taiyang being a weak willed fool, than she could already just imagine just how disappointing Yang would be when she grows. After all, she had inherited a lot from her father. Who's to say she didn't inherit his weak will as well?

Raven readjusted the baby in her hands, before she wander back into the second floor hallway. She peered into the other rooms, passing them without a second glance as she kept searching. Finally finding what she was looking for, she stepped into the master bedroom, where the married couple no doubt slept. Gently, she set the infant down on the bed, before rummaging through the bureaus. Finding only cloths, Raven scowled, before she picked out a few onesie's the baby's size. Not what she was really looking for, but nonetheless, she folded them and pocketed them.

She found a few diapers, and she packed them as well. Continuing her search, she moved towards the closets, and rummaged through, until finally she gave a smirk of satisfaction as she found what she was looking for. With a smirk still in place, Raven searched among the Birth Certificates she found. She threw aside the ones she knew she wouldn't need, until she found what she wanted.

The Birth Certificate of the baby boy, pleased with her find, Raven read through it. However, only two lines retained her attention. Jaune Arc, six months old. Gently, Raven tucked away the certificate, before approaching Jaune and holding the infant to her bosom. She made her way back downstairs, and she paused, looking back into the living room. Staring at the still corpses of Jaune's parents, her crimson orbs intently gazing upon the deceased parents.

Rest assured Arc family, your legacy shall live on in this world. However, he shall not be raised as an Arc. The Arc family is dead now, the only remnants being the blood that circulates through this child. This child shall grow to be powerful, immensely so. His potential will not be wasted he is no longer an Arc. Now he shall be raised as a Branwen. He shall be raised as my son.

With that thought flowing through Raven's mind, the black haired woman made her way out the house, unsheathing her blade and slicing open a portal. Raven Branwen, holding her new son, Jaune Branwen, stepped through the portal. A smile grew on Raven's face as it seemed now owed thanks to the thing she hated for giving her a son.

Death