A New Start, A New Problem.
The small village of Accueil rested its head in the southern portion of the kingdom of Vale, beyond the city proper. It had a modest population, a good bit of agriculture, and wide-open fields. A prominent member of this population was Jonathan Arc. Proud family-man, father to seven daughters, husband to Clarice Arc (Proud Huntress), and one of the most respected Huntsman in his graduating year at Beacon. After all the many trials he and his team had gone through he figured he could deal with being a father with little issue.
Then he had seven daughters in a row. With only a year between them. And now he faced his greatest challenge:
"It's a boy? Wait, I have a son! Oh, this is fantastic!"
The hospital staff were well acquainted with Jonathan and his antics, but even still, seeing a man well over six foot, and proven to be one of the deadliest men in the village, dance around like a child caused them to stifle a few giggles.
"Yes dear, now be quiet. You'll wake him up."
Clarice Arc sat in the hospital bed, gently cradling her son in her arms. Despite having birthed eight children, Mrs. Arc was still a beautiful woman. Standing just over six foot, fair complexion, straw colored hair, and emerald eyes that radiated warmth and motherly concern.
Jonathan, having contained his excitement for the moment, walked to her shoulder so he could look at his sons sleeping face.
"So, what'll we name him? He'll need a strong name to survive this house."
Clarice spent a moment just stroking the baby's soft, golden hair before answering,
"Jaune. Let's name him Jaune Arc."
Twelve years later-
"Dad, Dad! Where are you?"
Jonathan looked up from the chili he had been making for dinner, confusion marring his smile.
Not once in all eighteen years of her life had Jonathan ever heard his eldest sound so worried. Violet Arc burst through the door of the kitchen red-faced, her violet-tipped blonde flying behind her.
"Hey, what's wrong sweetie? It's not like you to just run through the house yelling-"
Violet snatched her father's hand and started dragging him outside. "It's Jaune! Apparently, some idiots from school were messing with Verte, and when Jaune heard he went to go confront them. He's gonna get himself hurt, you need to stop him!"
The moment his sons name left her mouth, Jonathan started to overtake his daughter. He was never one to show partiality, not that Jaune would accept it (ever the little hero), but this was his only son. There wasn't a chance in oblivion Jonathan would just wait idly by for Jaune to come back bloodied and broken.
"Do you know where they are?" Violet nodded, leading her father toward the town square. It was common for kids from Verte and Noir's school to hang out near the fountain. They ran through town, no one having the mettle to stand in the way of an emotional Arc.
"What do you want runt?" Violet heard the condescending voice before she could actually see the confrontation.
"You owe my sister an apology, friend." A group of four high schoolers stood facing Jaune, all of them looking less than pleased he was bothering them. The ringleader stood at a solid five and a half feet tall, but even as a ten-year-old Jaune almost matched him in height.
"Who? Oh, you mean the broad with the green hair and great legs? Ha, she should be glad a man like me is even looking in her direction. She's nerdy, but that body makes up for it."
Jonathan felt his hands clench, but he stayed still. He could see his son's eyes, and the way Jaune looked at this boy stopped Jonathan in his tracks.
When he was playing with his sisters, Jaune's eyes looked like the ocean on a warm summer day, rolling and laughing, brimming with warmth.
When he was working on something important they looked like sapphires, hardened and brimming with an unbreakable determination. But now?
They looked like ice.
Cold and unforgiving, the rage and power shrouded in a pretty facade.
But Jaune's voice never raised, he never stooped to cursing, and he never even sounded angry.
"Be careful what you say. That's my sister you're speaking about. Now, we can deal with this simply, right? Just apologize for what you said, and we never have to talk again. Sound good?"
Violet saw it too late. The glint in the leader's eye. The tensing of his body, the way he shifted his weight. She couldn't move in time.
"Yeah, runt. We'll take care of this really quick."
All Jonathan could see was red. The red of his rage, the red of his target's shirt, the red of his son's spilt blood seeping into the grass. He crossed the field in less than a second, back handed one of the friends who was foolish enough to stand in his way, and lifted the leader by his throat. No words were spoken. The leader finally realized who he had picked a fight with. It wasn't the scrawny blond with the cut along his right cheek who was struggling to his feet. It wasn't the older sister going to go help him. It was with the living, breathing death threat that was holding the leader almost a foot of the ground.
"Dad. Stop."
His son's voice shook him from his haze, the Huntsman clearing his thoughts of homicide. His rage was replaced with worry at the sight of Jaune's now wounded cheek, a laceration from his right jaw to the same ear.
"Relax Dad. It was my fault for getting in over my head. Put him down, let the law do its job."
Jonathan released the brat and walked over to help his son to his feet. He could feel his anger simmering in the back of his throat, but right now he had more pressing matters.
"Son, someday that hero complex will get you hurt. You know you can't help everyone, right? Leave some of this stuff to Police and Huntsman."
"Yeah… About that."
Five years after the incident
Noir followed the sound of her brother's ragged breathing to the training room. Violet had been worried when Jaune said he wanted to be a Huntsman, but she was the oldest so that made sense. Blanc hadn't been thrilled, but she could never say no to her little brother. Verte had been completely against it, terrified that her adorable baby brother could be hurt. Rouge had been impressed with how quickly Jaune had picked up swordplay and wanted to test him every chance she got. Azura was excited to see her brother find a dream and knew he would follow it. Rose was in love with the idea of her brother becoming a white knight, just like in her fairytales.
Noir though, was a different story. She had always wanted Jaune to be happy, and she knew that helping people made him happy. She just worried that one day he may forget to help himself, and everyone would be worse off if that ever occurred.
Noir pushed the door to the training room open and found Jaune leaning against the weapons rack, clad in jeans and his favorite hoody with pieces of platemail on his chest, forearms, shins and feet. The old family weapon, Crocea Mors, lay at his feet.
"Hey sis. What's up?"
Noir looked to the clock on the wall, which showed the time to be about twelve thirty, and looked back to her brother with a frown.
"Jaune, you've been training for almost six hours non-stop. It's impressive and good work, yeah, but why don't we take a break? How about you clean up, then we'll both head into town. Maybe look at getting some presents for Rouge's birthday. You always seem to know her better than the rest of us."
Jaune looked around as he thought. He had hoped to take the winter break to start training harder. The Arcs were constantly busy, and with how much Jaune and his father helped around the town, traditional combat school hadn't been an option.
His only hope now was to impress the headmaster of his chosen academy in skill and tactical appraisal. Jaune was a good tactician, but there was always room to improve his swordplay. Ever since his father unlocked his Aura he had been training to be a defensive fighter. Evidently Jaune had massive reserves of Aura, and it was stronger than usual too.
Realizing he had left his sister waiting for an answer he looked back to her, knowing that she hadn't really been asking.
"Yeah, sounds like fun. Let me shower up, I'll meet you in town." Noir nodded and left her brother to his own devices.
Once Noir had reached the town square, she decided to look around for some shops she thought might help Jaune with his fighting. She knew he could use better armor, but he refused to use a weapon that wasn't Crocea Mors.
As she walked by the window of a blacksmith she saw a figure dressed in white and black robes standing inside. The man's tunic had a red wolf head with three red claw marks going across it.
The White Fang. What had once been a peaceful organization for the defense of Faunus, a sub species of human with small animal characteristics, that had turned into a terrorist group. The terrorist reached into his tunic and pulled out a small black cylinder, waving it while shouting something.
Noir turned as she heard Jaune call her name. She watched him run in her direction with a large grin across his face. He was too far away to be caught up in it. Noir smiled softly as she burned the image of her baby brother smiling into her mind.
Not a bad last image, you know? She thought. Then the wall behind her splintered and crashed into her, erasing any further thought.
Jaune stopped dead when he saw Noir disappear. It couldn't be. It just… doesn't work like this. It's Noir. It's big sister. She doesn't die.
She's always there. She taught me how to fight. Why to fight. She can't just… leave.
As Jaune's brain desperately tried to rationalize what had happened, his instinct was already moving.
Aura is the manifestation of your soul. It shields you and bears your burdens. A semblance is a concentrated version of that. Something to give you a light in times of need and is intrinsically linked to you in your purest form.
Jaune's body was wrapped in his aura as he charged toward the wreckage. He caught sight of his sister's leg under a mostly intact piece of wall. It might as well have been tissue paper as Jaune threw it down the block with a single hand.
Noir's injuries were mostly internal due to her aura protecting her from outward harm. Jaune cupped her cheek as he held her close, feeling the last warmth of her body start to vanish.
No.
No.
NO.
All at once, the full power of Jaune's aura came to bear and a white fire cloaked Noir's broken body. Jaune couldn't feel or distinguish anything other than his own voice calling for Noir to come back. Finally, through the roaring white, he heard her voice.
"Jaune, what did you do…"
And all was black.
Alright y'all, explanation time. I know I said I had given up on this, and I know I promised to have Lux Noctis be my main focus. I assure you it is. This is a side project, and I'm hoping to fix a lot of the issues here, and maybe find my way back into it. I despise the way I left this, so I'm going to try and fix it up. Thanks for reading, guys!
Arebus.