This giant of a fill-in-the-blank is dedicated to my sister, who shares in much of my excitement surrounding the universe of Bayonetta. Happy Birthmas! It wasn't supposed to go beyond 2,000 words, but that's what happens when I'm given my favourite character to write a background of.

To everyone else, I hope you enjoy.

This story assumes:
Jeanne is Joan of Arc, as suggested in-game.
The Clan Wars grew from Cereza's conception but did not break out into full-continental war until after the Umbran/Lumen truce broke down over time, led by Balder/Loptr's influence.
The Clan Wars/Witch Hunts and the historical Hundred years War occurs around the same time of each other (specifically the Lancastrian War). Specific details won't be indulged.
The Clan Wars are separate and before Witch Hunts, the Umbra were strong and defensive during Clan Wars, but were killed off during Witch Hunts due to human involvement rallied by Balder/Loptr.


Part 1 - Innocence of Youth

Jeanne was used to her own way of things. Growing up as the Heiress to the Umbran Throne instilled in her a sense of duty and pride. But she liked the independence of her thoughts, and when someone told her not to do something, it was hard to keep her from doing it.

No one gave her a reason to stop playing with Cereza as a child. Not any reason that she liked, anyway.

"Cereza was an outcast."

"Cereza wasn't allowed to learn their ways."

"Cereza was the Forbidden Child."

"Cereza wasn't to be talked to."

Cereza was also very, very lonely. And despite all the attention, Jeanne was too.

Jeanne was surrounded, constantly, with witches who tried to groom her to take her mother's place. She enjoyed it for the most part, knowing that she had so much more responsibility than anyone else. But she had teachers, trainers, caretakers, and not a single one of them Jeanne called a friend. So when she looked at lonely Cereza, Jeanne saw a mirror of what she felt. And knowing at such a young age that every witch will be her responsibility one day, Jeanne decided to start with the one who was kept away from her own world.

As Jeanne learned basic spells she would sneak away in the mornings towards the mostly empty dungeons to teach them to Cereza. They practiced enchantments together on their dolls, concocted potions that they drank with scrunched up noses, designed original weaves and crafts to play dress-up with. Anything Jeanne learned was taught to Cereza.

Her mother caught her once, and Cereza told Jeanne her "mummy" said not to do anything to cause trouble.

But they didn't listen. They just got better at hiding.

Jeanne kept sneaking away at night, little slippers pattering mutely against cold stone, determined to finish the lesson's she began with Cereza. They were extremely careful now, using hushed voices and quiet steps, and they would hex out the candles in the halls they took.

On the third night of it the pair made a game of being the quietest to perform their practise, unknowingly on the road to advanced wordless magic, barely-formed words lost to the air before they could echo down the walls. On the fifth night Cereza brazenly ran at her in the still-lit hallway, tackling Jeanne into a tight hug with a dainty squeal of delight.

"They're going to teach me, Jeanne! They're going to do it! Mummy says I'm going to be a witch!"

"Really?!" Jeanne returned a squeeze happily before pushing the other girl back a step. "This is so good, Cereza! We can learn together!"

"Um…" Cereza pouted, her hands nervously in front of her and clasping at her nightgown. "Well, I'm not learning with you. Or anyone. Mummy says I'm being taught alone, and I'm still not allowed to cause any one trouble. But," Cereza looked at Jeanne before biting her lip. "She also says I shouldn't be alone." She suddenly looked up at Jeanne, eyes wide. "But I didn't tell her about you! I told mummy I had Cheshire to keep me company, and I didn't say anything else about you, Jeanne."

Jeanne hummed a moment before speaking, considering what her friend told her. "That might be a good thing. My mother really didn't like us together." She grabbed Cereza's hands, smiling again. "We can keep practicing though! And we'll become so good, we'll be the best witches ever! And then I can be the Elder and take care of the Left Eye and you can be my guardian!"

"What's the Left Eye?" Cereza asked.

"I don't really know. Mother says it's the clan's treasure and it'll be my responsibility and I'll have to keep it safe."

"Oh, okay. I can help you, Jeanne!"

"Thank you Cereza. Let's be the best witches ever!"

The dark haired girl nodded, then turned back the way she came from to lead them to their secret space. At least now Cereza wouldn't have to pretend she didn't know magic anymore. That alone brought a smile to Jeanne's innocent face.

Jeanne looks back at this untainted memory fondly. They were just small children, practicing the building blocks of magic, alone in the dark with their dolls and nightgowns.

-—-—-

The air was chilled when Jeanne snuck out of the Enchantment Galleries, hands full of a little paper-bound box. Her body was wrapped in layers of warm clothes to prevent frostbite. The snow had fallen earlier in the evening, leaving a thick dusting of fluffy-looking flakes over everything outside, coating the rough-hewn walls and bark of leafless trees. The older witches' booted heels left impressions behind them, and Jeanne could clearly tell where most of them had gone through the courtyard.

She left for the opposite direction of the tracks, endeavouring to step where someone else had to make her way towards the dormitories. She excitedly tried to jump from each step to another without falling over, giggling a little to herself once she was certain no other witches were going to cross her path. They should have all been in the feasting halls with hot soups and broiled vegetables, or warming up in the library with its many fireplaces and cozy seats. A few might be in their rooms and wrapped in blankets, but Jeanne didn't worry about them. She was mostly concerned about her mother or the tutors; or anyone who had the elder's ear or command.

The dorms were held in a large and lofty building, fit for all the witches to room in relative comfort. It was several stories tall and a few deep, with varyingly sized quarters for those of different ages and rank. Her mother's were the biggest with separate areas for her bed, office, and a personal library of Umbran curios and babbles. Jeanne's room was across and down the Elder's hall, small than her mother's but still more spacious compared to many of those belonging to other fledgling witches.

The heiress turned away from the halls that lead to her rooms, instead slipping quietly up a staircase to the floors above. One hand reached out to the stone walls to keep her balance, the other tightening on the box. When she looked behind her she noticed her boots had left small puddles on the steps, reflecting the candlelight of the deep-set wall sconces. Jeanne puffed her cheeks at the sight, admonishing herself for leaving such an obvious trail. But she continued on, hoping the torches would dry up her mistake quickly.

She didn't see or hear anyone on the next floor, so the heiress hurried along to Cereza's room, holding her package securely against her chest. She knocked on the door once before pushing it open, too impatient to wait to be let in.

"Jeanne? What are you doing here so early?" Cereza was sitting on her bed, already in her nightgown with her hair braided elaborately up and away from her round face.

Like all the other rooms the Umbra shared, Cereza's had a large window that allowed moonlight to flood in at night, with banks of candles set on tables or dressers against the far wall. Cereza's shutters were open now, the cool beams reflecting off the snow outside and illuminating one side of the girl's face while the candles flickered and warmly lit up the other. Despite (or maybe because of) the dark sheen to the other witch's hair, her braids caught both kinds of light, and Jeanne's initial excitement briefly stuttered as she considered how well her friend could wear blue or red.

"I couldn't wait until tomorrow. I just finished your present," Jeanne explained, holding out the package and smiling widely. "Happy birthday Cereza!"

"Thank you!" The other girl blushed slightly, taking the gift carefully. She pulled at the dyed twine holding the paper in place, uncovering a simple jewelry box. As the wrapping fell away Cereza neatly opened the top of the casket, revealing a relatively large ruby with tiny black engravings.

"Oh Jeanne…" She delicately held up the gem, reading the inscription aloud, "Jeanne and Cereza…"

"I did the writing myself. I read that rubies are good with fire, and the angels use lots of fire, so I thought it could be a good protection stone. I tried to enchant it with a shield but I'm not sure how well it worked."

"Thank you, Jeanne." Cereza practically leaped off the bed and threw her arms around the heiress.

She hugged back tightly, speaking into one of her friend's braids, "Do you like it?"

"I love it," Cereza assured as she pulled away, turning to her bedside table.

Cereza replaced the gem in the box, her smile light on her face as Jeanne explained the small nuances of it. When Cereza made to put the box in the night stand drawer Jeanne caught a glint of gold and soft red from within.

-—-—-

Jeanne promised to meet with Cereza at their secret spot to celebrate the night before her birthday, like she did for Cereza's almost three weeks prior. They agreed to do so late at night, after the majority of witches had either gone to sleep, left for missions, or were preoccupied with training.

The dungeons were quiet, and Jeanne knew Cereza would have arrived early to visit her mother, so Jeanne took her time. The building was simpler in architecture compared to others of the Umbran Clan's. It was fitted with small, thin windows that couldn't be opened, providing very little natural light, certainly not enough to allow for someone to Witch Walk inside. The entranceway had tapestries of dark themes, sharing with observers pieces of dark prophecies, history, and depictions of horrors by the Laguna that she'd only heard tell of from older witches. They used to scare Jeanne when she first started meeting with Cereza, but now they were something the heiress knew to expect once she was finished her training.

The halls were dimly lit, torches scattered thinly along the walls with one in every two burning at a given time. During the summer months it felt cold inside this particular building, but the January weather brought a freezing draft to the place, requiring thick coats and warm boots to traverse comfortably. Even dressed appropriately Jeanne could still feel the tips of her ears and nose being bitten by frost.

Once inside the abandoned room the two girls claimed as theirs Jeanne sat on an old and broken legged chair, originally large enough for two. One side of it had become charred the previous year from a brewing practise that had gone awry. They had moved the blackened cauldron to the far corner after that, well away from the door or anything else that could catch fire. The rest of the room was furnished with similarly broken or marred tables or cabinets, things that the older Umbran weren't likely to miss in the less than favourable building. It was here they learned to draw enchantments, brew potions, and weave catalysts together.

Jeanne propped herself on the intact side of the chair, glad that her height allowed her to do so without clamouring on the seats like she had to do when they first started to come here. It wasn't long after the cushion under her began to warm up when Cereza appeared, shutting the door quietly behind.

"Happy birthday, Jeanne!" the dark haired witch said, balancing a light wooden box in her arms.

"Thank you, Cereza."

Her friend sat close beside her, also avoiding the black crusted spot. "I got to go to the village for my birthday allowance last month. This is for you." Cereza passed the box to her, and Jeanne could see little details craved into the top and sides, cats and moths and birds, bordered by a lace-like filigree.

"It's so pretty, thank you."

Cereza smiled at her. "Open it."

Jeanne removed the lid, eyes alighting on a stone-hewn sculpture of the two of them. It was smooth, and had captured their likeness perfectly – down to the details of their dress and accessories. When she turned it over she saw "Jeanne and Cereza" was written into the back, a perfect mirror to the inscription her gift to Cereza bore.

"I love it, Cereza," she said distractedly, fingers tracing over the Enochian letters. When she looked up Jeanne could see her friend looked relieved. Her brows pulled into a frown. "What's wrong?"

"I just… wasn't sure if you would like it," Cereza broke off, biting her lip. "It's not as… as pretty as the jewel you gave me for my birthday, but I wanted to get you something special. That will last."

"Cereza…" Jeanne put the statue aside in its box before drawing Cereza into a hug. "I love it, it's different, special," she paused, trying to find the right words for what the heartfelt gift meant to her. "It's one of a kind. Like you."

Cereza relaxed against her, obviously reassured. "We're both one of a kind."

They talked for what seemed like hours, discussing training, books, and what animals they wanted to be able to turn into when they were older and taught transfiguration. Sitting as they were, pressed close against each other from the cold and sharing their thoughts, Jeanne realized how special it was that they did this. None of the other witches meant to her what Cereza did, and she knew the feeling was mutual.

The clan may call each other 'sisters' out of camaraderie, but Jeanne felt the bond strongly, solidly, with Cereza.

-—-—-—-—-—-—-

There are times in which Jeanne can't remember if Cereza had that long pretty ribbon she sometimes sees at her neck instead of a thin gold chain, and others where she's certain Cheshire's little button eye was sewn in with a different coloured thread.

Sometimes her friend is shy and has a hand protectively held to her chest and treasure, others when Cereza's more confident to be seen about the open areas of the Umbran complex. Her Umbran Watch is decorated with the jewel Jeanne gave her and hidden under her garb, or it can be seen gleaming proudly by her finger in a durable mount on her left hand revolver.

If Jeanne puts a little effort into it she can string together which changes belong together. But that feels a little like cheating, like ripping open a present just to get to the gift, when the wrapping can be just as pleasing to savour.

Alternate things don't hurt from this period of their lives, and Jeanne wonders if part of that is their youth and the freshness of her life.