Work Text:
It was a ritual for them, etched deep into their bones, years and years of trying to escape and getting sucked back in for the kill. The Branwen twins fell upon their targets like smoke and shadow blotting out the sun and left nothing in their wake. Harbinger and Omen thirsted for aura, for flesh, and the Branwen twins gave their blades every last drop.
The deed was done. They didn’t bother counting up points. That part of the ritual died long ago. Or so Qrow thought, ignoring the seething anger at Raven growing in his gut. He would let that part die. He would kill it. He pushed it down, choked it out. For now, at least.
Raven cocked her head at him, her eyes — the mirror image of his — boring into the very depths of his soul, plucking up the hints of instability that, to anyone else, would be invisible. Deeply dissatisfied, but unsurprised with whatever he was projecting, she snorted and flew off.
Qrow streaked across the sky and burst into the circling Manta with a thud and a roll and crumpled against the cockpit wall. He groaned and rolled his neck out. Raven followed close behind, landing a little more gracefully, though she also winced as she stepped a little too hard on her right foot.
Robyn eyed them carefully. “Did you finish the job?” She didn’t get a response, just a baleful look from Qrow and a scoff from Raven. So she knocked on the cockpit door. “They’re back. Let’s go.”
The Manta moved out of its circling path in the foothills and headed up the mountains. They’d fly around there for a while before heading back to Shade, keeping a lookout for followers.
Robyn wasn’t looking when the first punch was thrown, but she certainly heard it. Whirling around, she saw Raven clutching her nose and Qrow rearing back for a second hit. “Qrow,” she snapped.
His eyes flicked to her for half a second, and that’s when Raven struck.
She beat Qrow back, raining blows down on him like he’d done her a personal wrong. For all Robyn knew, he had done her wrong. Each hit was messy and imprecise, aiming only to hurt. Raven’s gauntlets sliced up Qrow’s arms as he blocked and moved in for his own attacks, the fleshy impacts spilling the smell of copper into Robyn’s senses.
Raven might have drawn first blood, but Qrow wasn’t taking it lying down. He fought back, dragging Raven forward as she launched her fist at his face and sank his teeth clean into her forearm, barely missing the radial artery. Her arm spasmed and she struggled to yank it away, but Qrow held on, taking the battering from her gauntlets.
Pushing against Qrow’s face, Raven ripped her arm out of his mouth and stared at him, anger turning into hunger for a kill.
Cloth came away in Qrow’s teeth. He spat it out. The twins circled each other, liquid predatory grace in every limb.
Robyn lifted a hand to stop what would inevitably turn into a bloodbath if she let it continue. “Qrow–”
Omen shrieked out of its scabbard as Raven rushed Qrow. The red sword met Harbinger with an awful, ear-splitting clang. Robyn threw herself down to avoid the wave of pure aura emitted by the impact.
With a deep metal groan, the Manta shuddered. It wasn’t big enough to handle this fight.
But Robyn couldn’t get a word in edgewise to warn them of the danger, and she was forced to keep her head down to avoid having her eyes taken out by the rampant swinging of their blades.
She backed up against the cockpit door, trying to keep her grip on the handle as Qrow forced Omen out of Raven’s hand. Harbinger landed not two feet away.
A small tremor ran over the Manta as Raven slammed Qrow into the wall, pinning him on his front, wrenching his head back with hands tangling in his hair, teeth bared as if she was about to bite down on the thin skin of his neck, right where his carotid artery lay.
Qrow got his hands in front of him and pushed back, sending Raven stumbling against the opposite wall, grunting as she hit metal, and she narrowly avoided Qrow launching himself at her with a fist pulled back.
She rolled to the side, sending an elbow snapping at his temple, giving a sharp laugh in satisfaction when she made contact.
Qrow picked himself up and grabbed her arm again, biting down where he’d bitten before, aiming to go deeper and she screamed in anger.
Raven tore her arm away, aiming her other hand for Qrow’s throat. Growling, Qrow slapped that hand to the side and swiped at Raven’s eyes.
She dodged, hitting him square in the kidney, making him stumble, but he caught himself and barrelled right back, grabbing Raven by the middle, picking her up and tackling her to the floor with a furious yell.
This time, the Manta rocked dangerously.
Raven brought her ankles up and crossed them over Qrow’s neck, pushing him sideways and off of her with a heavy grunt, but Qrow held on, dragging her down by her lapels and moving his head out of the way at the last second to slam her nose into the floor.
A crack resounded through the Manta’s hold. Robyn cringed as Raven pushed herself up, keeping her full weight on Qrow’s stomach and chest, forcing him to stay flat on his back. Blood streamed from her nose and red stone beads scattering down her shirt and onto Qrow. Her nose looked broken.
Beneath her, Qrow drew ragged breaths, one hand still gripping her lapels. The fingers of his other hand were hooked around the bottom of her sash, low down and strategically placed, ready to launch her clear over his head. Robyn got the feeling that this kind of fight wasn’t new for the twins.
“You done yet?” Qrow growled.
“No,” Raven hissed. Gauntleted hands circled his neck and Raven smacked her forehead into his nose. He grunted with the force of the impact, clutching his own nose.
Reaching blindly, Qrow grabbed a fistful of hair at the back of her head and pulled , the force of it snapping her chin up. Her hands flew up to loosen his grip, yelping as he tugged even harder.
With brute force, Qrow bucked his hips and shoved Raven off his stomach, but her ankle caught his as he tried to stand, and he went back down, landing hard on his knee with a cry.
Raven delivered a swift kick to his ribs as she scrambled away, putting distance between them.
Both twins stumbled to their feet, each nursing their broken noses. If it wasn’t an absolute death match, Robyn would’ve laughed. She banged on the cockpit door instead, cursing its near-soundproof design. “Clover, get your ass out here, now,” she yelled.
Clover pulled the cockpit door open and gaped at the scene in front of him. “What in the sweet hells is going on out here?”
Robyn dragged him out and yanked Winter out of her chair too. “Get in here and help me keep your boyfriend and his sister from bloodying up this shuttle,” she growled. She glanced at May. “Keep this thing flying and don’t stop until we get to Shade. We’re going to need all hands.”
May took the wheel, a mix of anger and concern flashing in her eyes. Robyn slammed the cockpit door shut.
Gone was that graceful, learned predatory movement exhibited by the twins, replaced by a wild ferocity that spoke of years in uncivilization.
Raven threw down her gauntlets. “Come on, little brother,” she mocked. “You want that point so bad? Come and take it.”
“Shit.” Robyn got out of the way, pulling Clover and Winter under the wave of aura that Qrow unleashed.
With a wild scream, Qrow flew at Raven, bowling her over, and they turned into a storm of teeth and nails ripping and tearing and shredding whatever they could reach. Raven managed to tear a chunk out of Qrow’s shoulder and he howled, fury crashing down in waves, and he tackled her into the wall. The Manta went sideways for a terrifying minute before it righted itself. May was doing her damn best to keep the thing flying, but if it took any more of a beating from the twins, it would fall right out of the sky.
Grabbing Raven by the face, his palm pressed onto her cracked nose, he pinned her thigh down with his knee and slammed her onto the metal floor, again and again. “That was mine,” he snarled, punctuating the words with another brutal barrage. Each hit left bright red streaks when her scalp split open.
Pissed off and murderous, Raven held out and dragged him down with her, using his momentum to shove him over, pounding her knee into his stomach so hard he coughed up flecks of blood. “Take it, then.”
Qrow pushed her knee to the side and she slipped, straddling him, but she managed to dig her fingers into his cheekbones, ignoring his thrashing and biting. Lifting his head off the floor, she gave him a hard right, on his eye. “You were never good enough, little brother.” Another wet smack. “You think the tribe wanted you?” A fleshy thud. “You’re a coward.”
Qrow roared in pain, attaching his hands to her neck, choking her out. His nails left red crescents where they dug into the skin, her violent cursing turning hoarse from the pressure to her trachea.
Robyn couldn’t make out the rest of the words that they screamed and hurled at each other, but she got in there, Winter’s gravity glyphs flashing around her, keeping the Manta steady, Clover’s hands reaching with hers. It took a tremendous amount of effort to wrench them apart and keep them apart. Black glyphs pinned the twins to opposite walls of the Manta and the shuttle finally steadied, straightening out and flying true.
Qrow thrashed against the glyph, snarling at Raven, and she snarled right back, killer calm settling over her limbs. Blood gleamed on two sets of teeth.
On either side of Robyn, Clover and Winter stood alert, barely blinking as they monitored the twins, Edelweiss and Kingfisher at the ready. Winter kept Edelweiss levelled at Raven’s throat, stock still and unmoving, while Clover held Kingfisher aloft in front of Qrow, his free hand also raised in a placating gesture. Robyn stood in front of Qrow and he stopped struggling long enough for her to put a hand on his uninjured shoulder.
“Stop,” she ordered. “We’re going back to Shade, you’re going to the doctor, and then you’re going straight to bed. I don’t want you running around and mucking this up. You’ve worked too hard to get here, don’t make us throw it away. Got it?”
Still baring his teeth, Qrow managed to meet her eyes. She held his glare, noting the predatory glint. But he nodded and relaxed into the black glyph.
Raven was a different problem. Robyn recognized that blatant distrust in those red depths. She’d worn the same distrust for a long time. Deep red, darker than Qrow’s, flickered, a dim spark of something else clawing its way out. The same spark that lived in Winter’s eyes.
Aiming her crossbow at Raven, Robyn narrowed her eyes. “Is there a problem?”
Raven only laughed. “You’re too young to understand.” An arrow sprouted from the Manta wall beside Raven’s head. She didn’t even blink. “Aggressive,” she commented.
“Don’t bother,” said Qrow. “She won’t say shit. You’ll only piss yourself off.”
Wheeling around, Robyn aimed at him. Kingfisher came to a quick stop on her collarbone, and Clover gave her a warning look. She sensed the parrying dagger of Edelweiss aimed at her spine.
Lowering her crossbow, she sighed through her nose. Qrow’s personal security detail relaxed. “When we get back, you’re going to tell us what the hell happened.”
Behind her, Raven barked a laugh. Qrow growled at her.
“Quiet.” Robyn’s head pounded. “Sort your shit out first. And then you’ll tell us.”
As the words left her mouth, she became privy to the most intense twin telepathy argument she had ever witnessed. Qrow and Raven’s expressions shifted and intensified and relaxed, as if they were speaking out loud.
Robyn exchanged a glance with Winter, keeping an extra eye on Raven in case she provoked Qrow again. Quite honestly, Robyn had never seen Qrow so pissed off, and she’d seen him murderous. This was something else, and she wasn’t keen on having to deal with it again.
Finally, Raven sighed. “Fine. But you’re telling them.”
“You’re a real dick, Raven, I hope you know that,” Qrow snapped.
“Can you two be civil?” Winter asked. Two identical withering glares made her balk ever so slightly. As if realizing that what Winter was asking was in fact the most reasonable thing she could ask, Qrow relaxed. Raven, however, did not.
Finally, Clover stepped in, both arms raised like he was taming a pair of skittish wild horses who enjoyed biting people as a hobby. “We’re all stressed. That was an intense mission. As long as we can stay civil,” he stressed the word, “we can talk this out.” He gestured between Qrow and Raven with Kingfisher. “You two will be separated when we get back. I don’t want our doctors getting caught up in your fights.”
Leave it to Clover to calm down the worst disagreements. The pounding in Robyn’s head grew. She wanted answers. She would get them, one way or another.
Clover leaned against the wall, watching Winter pace back and forth. She always paced when she was stressed. They’d checked up on Qrow already, deemed him largely unhurt apart from the top layer of flesh ripped off of his shoulder. He was also just very pissed off, and so they left him in Robyn’s care.
Robyn was none too happy about having to babysit him, loudly voicing her desire to be in the room with them when they spoke to Raven, but she took on the task with an affectionate grumble. Clover left them his pack of cards so they wouldn’t annoy each other too much.
Outside Raven’s cell door, Clover let the mask drop. “I’m going to have a nice conversation with her. Do you want to talk to her too?”
Winter stopped pacing and looked at him, carefully noting the set of his jaw and conviction in his brow. “No,” she said, with equal conviction. “She and I can have our talk another time. I’d rather you take care of this one now.”
“Alright.” Clover brought his amicable mask back up as the doctor opened the cell door. “Dr. Moreno, how is she?”
Dr. Poppy Moreno looked down at her notes. “She should be fine. Mr. Branwen took a chunk out of her arm, but her aura is strong. She’ll heal nicely.” She tucked her clipboard under her arm and began walking off, then turned back. “Make sure they aren’t left alone together for a while. Twins, you said?”
Clover nodded.
Dr. Poppy hummed. “Right. Don’t leave them alone together,” she repeated, and left.
Exchanging a look with Winter, Clover sighed. “I have no intentions of doing that,” he muttered. “Do you want to wait here or go back to Qrow? I’ll try not to be too long.”
“I’ll come in with you.” Winter stalked into the holding cell before he could go in, murderous intent rolling off of her in waves. Good thing she wasn’t doing the talking. She preferred the blade to verbal threats, but Clover thought they needed something a little more subtle.
The protective beast had risen up inside him during the fight in the Manta, and it only grew bigger when he clocked Raven eyeing Winter like she was a new target. He’d have some words with her. The older Branwen needed to understand where she stood with them, given that everyone knew she’d put a hit out on Qrow, and offered a reward to the very people that gutted Atlas.
The cell was partially converted into an emergency ward for Raven. She lay in the cot, bola-cuffed to the rails. A derisive snort escaped her when she saw him. “If it isn’t the boy scout. Come to talk some sense into me?”
Clover pulled up a chair and settled in, leaning his elbows on his thighs. “No,” he said simply. “No, I’m here to get some answers.”
Raven rolled her eyes, an action so similar to Qrow that Clover had to do a double take. “I lead the Branwen tribe. I’m the Spring Maiden. I put out that hit on my brother because he was a fool to trust Ozpin. Salem can’t be beaten.” She paused for breath, looking Clover squarely in the eyes. “Though I assume you already knew this.”
“I did,” said Clover. “But those are not the answers I was looking for. I’m actually looking for an explanation for what happened today.” Raven looked away. “But I get the feeling you’re not going to tell me anything.”
“What happened today was our business. You just happened to be there.”
“I see.” Clover leaned back in his chair. “Alright, then. Raven, there’s a hierarchy here. You’re familiar with those. We all answer to Theodore, and when we’re on missions, we answer to Qrow, because he leads my team. You would do well to remember that.”
“Don’t patronize me,” she snapped.
Clover put his hands up in a placating gesture. He seemed to be doing that a lot today. Damage control. “I don’t mean to patronize you. I only mean to remind you of the order of things here. If you intend to stay, you’ll have to fall in line.” He placed his hands on the rails and gave her a friendly smile. “And I want to establish something else.”
She glared, but tilted her chin up, indicating she was listening.
“I know you think I’m just a peacekeeper. I put a lot of effort into making myself look that way. And I make sure I can perform that role.” He bent down, lowering his mouth to her ear, intimately aware of Winter’s gaze on them. “But if you attack Qrow again, and if you touch Winter at all, it won’t be Robyn you’ll be dealing with. And you will not walk out intact.”
Raven snorted. “I suppose you think that scares me?”
Pulling back, Clover looked her straight in the eyes. “I know everyone would rather we knew where the Spring Maiden is. But I don’t mind having to go look for her again. You see, I don’t have any reservations when it comes to protecting the people I love. This is not a threat, Raven. It’s a guarantee,” he said softly.
Sheets rustled as Raven shifted. Whether it was discomfort or her biting down the urge to kill him, Clover didn’t know. But he held a hand out for her to take, to shake on his warning. “Do we have an understanding?”
Raven eyed the hand he held between them. After a long moment, she pushed it aside.
“I don’t care who you are or what you can do,” she said with equal softness. “I came here to settle a score with my brother. That score has been settled. You won’t find any more trouble with me.”
Smiling, Clover withdrew his hand. “Glad to hear it. Get well soon. I look forward to working with you in the future.”
A low, throaty laugh escaped her lips. Clover noticed a stitch pop out, but Raven didn’t even wince. “I can see why he likes you.”
“I can see why he hates you,” Clover replied. “Have a good night, Raven.”
Winter held the door open for him and he walked through, making sure she was out behind him before latching it. He hit the assistance button, letting a nurse walk by them and help Raven out with the torn stitch in her lip, then he and Winter made their way to the elevators.
Winter didn’t start pacing again, but the way she was shuffling told him it was a near thing. “Clover,” she murmured. “We’re trying to stay united.”
Clover gave her a sidelong glance. “You wanted to kill her. Would you have done it differently?” He asked in a low voice.
“No.” Zero hesitation. “But as much as I hate her, I’d hate to have to go looking for the new Spring Maiden even more.”
He sighed. “I hear that.” The elevator doors opened and they stepped in. “Was Qrow ever like this?”
Winter shook her head. “Never. He would brood sometimes, but he would never be outright hostile to everyone like Raven is now, not without reason. Murder was off the table for him.”
That was another thing they’d have to discuss with Qrow. Later, perhaps, when he was fully recovered and in his own senses. For now, they silently boarded the elevator and rode up to their shared quarters.
It was an easy hunt for the twins. Get in, kill, get out. The tribe expected them back by morning.
Qrow and Raven fell upon their targets, blades singing, drinking up aura and bleeding their victims dry. It wasn’t pretty, but they made a game of it.
For Qrow, it was the only way to stay sane.
For Raven, it was the only way to lay claim.
Their last target ran. Qrow flew at him, chasing him into the forest. A portal opened up in front of them and the man’s body stretched between the metal of Harbinger and Omen, tearing him apart from both directions.
“I was here first,” Qrow managed to get out, his breathing ragged from the hunt.
“You should’ve been faster. My point.” Raven sheathed Omen.
Qrow bared his teeth, tasting blood on his canines. “That was my kill.”
Raven turned away, shrugging. The portal disappeared. “You didn’t commit to it.”
“Fuck you.” Qrow spat out blood and pointed Harbinger at her. “Give me my point.”
That’s how it always was. They bargained for points that were marked nowhere but their minds, each keeping tally of the other’s kills, as if it was something to be proud of.
“Let’s just go home. I’m tired.” Raven picked a direction and started walking.
With a yell, Qrow attacked.
Raven was faster.
An hour later, they staggered home in exhausted silence and leaning heavily on each other. Raven with a limp, Qrow with a torn back. It was the first of many unfortunate brawls.
Qrow started, heaving right up off the bed. Frantically, he looked around. To his left was a wall. Above him was the archetypal tiered ceiling of a Vacuan building. To his right was Robyn, napping in a chair beside his bed. A privacy curtain was drawn all around his little bed.
Right. He was in Shade.
Groaning, Qrow pushed himself back against the mass of pillows. His movement woke Robyn up, and then she was bustling around, pouring out water, tapping out two painkillers into a small paper cup, and handing both to him.
He took the painkillers, cringing at the bitter, powdery taste, and swallowed them down. He drank two full cups of water before his parched throat felt less like the Vacuan desert and more like how a throat should feel.
Robyn took the cups and set them aside on his bedside table, scooting her chair closer to his bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Like shit,” he replied. Talking scratched inside his throat, but it wasn’t too bad. “I hate fighting with her.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Did he? Fighting with Raven like that tore up some old memories that he firmly believed were better hidden.
With gentle hands, far gentler than he’d known her to be, Robyn took his uninjured hand and leaned in to speak. “This wasn’t a normal fight, was it?”
A small spark of shame stabbed his chest when he saw the look in her eyes. Understanding, worry. Worst of all, suspicion.
“No, it wasn’t.” Better to tell her the truth than let it fester. “It was something we used to do before Beacon. Back when we were young and still relatively alone, even with the tribe. We were just a burden to them and they never cared what we did, so long as it didn’t put them at risk.”
She nodded, her expression never changing.
“We were…inseparable, until Beacon. Fights couldn’t be settled with one of us winning. We had to find another way.” He cast her a sidelong glance to make sure her reaction hadn’t changed, and it hadn’t. But he felt the slow burn of moral failing and deep disgust crawl up his back anyways. It wasn’t something he ever thought he’d talk about out loud, and it wasn’t something he ever thought he’d remember so vividly. Each kill flashed behind his eyelids. Bile rose in his throat.
“Qrow, I’m not judging you,” said Robyn. “I know how you grew up. Things were different then, and I know you now.”
That alleviated some of the shame, but most of it still lingered. “I don’t even remember who started it. We were extensions of each other. We used each other to get to our targets. We sought out targets who were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and we took them out because we enjoyed it.” With a helpless shrug, Qrow sighed. “It felt natural at the time. But after Beacon, after meeting Tai and Summer for the first time, we realized just how wrong we were. It wasn’t normal. We were just alone. And lonely. And– and we needed something, anything to keep us tethered.”
One of Robyn’s hands left his to push hair out of his face. “I can’t understand it completely, but sometimes we just have to do what we can.”
“We didn’t have to do that.” Qrow felt close to tears. “It was a conscious choice, it just–” He broke off with a sob. “We hadn’t fought like that in years. Even at Haven. That wasn’t– It always happened after a hunt, and then this hunt, and I could see where it was going.” He gripped Robyn’s hand tighter, silently begging her to understand. “Please don’t tell Winter or Clover. I don’t think I could handle that kind of shame.”
Robyn gently pulled him down into a hug, letting him cry into her shoulder. “Qrow, your past is your past. And your past doesn’t define you right now. I still think it happened out of some necessity and I could never blame you. Conscious choice or not, I cannot judge you.”
“Raven was–” He sucked in a breath. “I know we weren’t going to end this fight like that. But it still felt like– I still felt like I’d crawl back to her at the end, like I was desperate for that win. It’s been years, Robyn. We don’t do that anymore.” Gods, he was going to throw up.
But Robyn was calm, a rock. She rubbed his back, up and down, slowly, gently. “I know, Qrow. It was…ritual, for you, right? It’s not a habit easily forgotten. That’s all it was. A habit. You and she broke the habit. You know better now, you learned to be better. This?” She pulled back and grasped his face. “This isn’t a relapse. This is your trauma response. You’re already doing so much better than you think.”
A heaving sob broke out from his throat. “We’re so fucked up. We liked it. The killing. And everything that came with it.”
“But you’re trying to get better.” Robyn was patient and forgiving as a saint. “Don’t you think that counts for something?”
Raven was sitting up like she was expecting Robyn to come through the door all along. It sent chills down Robyn’s spine, the way Raven tracked her with only her eyes, the deep red irises never moving away.
Robyn’s heart crawled up her throat as she pulled a chair up to Raven’s bedside. “How are you doing?” Easy. Simple.
Unlike Qrow, Raven’s patience had limits, and she was not a woman of many words. “He told you.”
It was accusatory. Defensive. She did not seem like she would say more until Robyn confirmed or denied it, and if Robyn denied it then Raven would shut her out completely.
“I figured it out on my own,” said Robyn. That was mostly true; Qrow and Raven’s fight on the Manta was more than a little intense. The decisions they’d made when grappling, the close quarters of their surroundings. Everything spoke to something in their childhood that left them both severely fucked up. Talking to Qrow only cemented her suspicions, but she didn’t have the full story.
Raven shifted and settled, tucking the blankets around her legs. The blood red glare hadn’t lessened, but Robyn felt a little more at ease when Raven relaxed back into her pile of pillows.
Then she spoke. “It happened well before we attended Beacon. It stopped the week before. The tribe knew, they didn’t care. They profited. They were cowards who would rather send us off to do their dirtiest work than care for orphan children they snatched off the streets of Higanbana. It was a nightmare living with them. And when Qrow unlocked his semblance, it only became worse.”
Robyn swallowed. But she didn’t speak, letting Raven collect her thoughts.
“Bad things happened wherever Qrow went. The tribe refused to let us stay with them for too long. So we learned to make ourselves useful. I was the only family he had. He…” She faltered for a moment. “He was the only person I had.
“The tribe grew to resent him, and then my semblance came in, and they forced us to separate, seeing the usefulness in having a direct portal to him but not having to keep him anywhere near us. I was free to grow my relationships in the tribe, and we used Qrow to track down our targets. I would portal us back, and the next day, he’d be gone on another tracking mission.
“We hated each other then. We fought after every hunt, just the two of us. Then it changed.” Raven sighed. “I assume he told you he doesn’t remember who started it.”
Robyn nodded.
“Of course,” Raven sighed again, exhaustion apparent in the slump of her shoulders and the bow of her neck. “He wouldn’t remember that, but he remembers every small detail after Beacon. I suppose that’s what our childhood did to us. It was barely a childhood. I started it. Everything we did, every craving for a kill. I don’t know why. I think I missed him. I wanted a connection.”
“So you competed in assassinations.”
“Slaughters,” Raven corrected her. “They were slaughters. Whole villages. Other tribes. We were — we are responsible for the Branwen tribe’s expansion.”
Breath caught in her throat at the admission, the first fault in Raven’s emotional wall. Robyn was well informed on the politics of Anima — most Animan orphans found their way into Atlas and Mantle through trafficking. The Branwen tribe was one such group of traffickers until nearly fifteen years prior. To learn that Qrow and Raven were responsible for the sheer political power that the Branwen tribe possessed shouldn’t have surprised her, but nevertheless, it was shocking.
“Your partners threatened my life, by the way,” Raven continued, as if she didn’t just drop that bombshell on Robyn. “But they spared me. They would rather not go looking for the next Spring Maiden.”
Closing her eyes in slight irritation at Clover and Winter’s antics, Robyn sighed. “I suppose you’re happy about that.”
A beat of silence filled the heavy reinforced room as Raven focused on a little loose thread on her blanket. The cracks in her emotional wall widened. “There was only one person I would have given the Maiden powers to.”
Was? “If you don’t mind my asking–”
“I do.”
Robyn crossed her arms, annoyed. “You brought it up.”
Equally annoyed but seemingly more at herself, Raven dragged her palm down her face, wincing as she shifted her healing nose. “I did not want to be the Spring Maiden,” she gritted out. “The one person who was worthy of them — the one person I would have gladly passed them to — is the person who gave them to me.”
That told Robyn two things. First: Raven was putting in a serious effort to reconcile with her family and grow away from her horrifying past. Second: she had a deeply personal relationship with the previous Spring Maiden, and she blamed herself. “I’m sorry.”
That emotional wall sealed up once more, shutting Robyn right out. “Save your pity, Hill. What’s done is done. My score is settled. My brother and I are not who we were before Beacon. And she’s never coming back.”
Robyn sat back in her seat. “I won’t pity you then. For the record though, I am sorry. I won’t pretend to know what you’ve been through. I just need you to know that we are on the same side now, and I am ready to support you, if you are ready for that.” She exhaled, preparing for the next hard part. There was always a next hard part. “I also need to know this won’t jeopardize our mission now. Not– not what you had before. I mean your fights. I need Qrow — we all need Qrow — in stable condition.”
Raven’s eyes bored through her once again. “Our score is settled,” she repeated. “Your partners came to make sure of that yesterday. For what it’s worth, I’m happy he found a family apart from me.”