Chapter Two
1.
"I don't want to be a huntress," Astrid's words are final.
M sighs. The argument is over. Both sides have been heard, leaving the woman only wishing her daughter to have some legal protection to her name. "You could be so much more than a farmhand."
"I won't leave you two," the fourteen-year-old states. Crosses her arms for good measure. "Not until Oscar's ready to leave."
They look over to the boy, who's head is buried in a comic book and pretending to not be listening to their conversation. If he understands is another matter entirely.
"You could be so much more," M is wistful.
"I am happy here," Astrid softly pats her mother's hand, things unsaid in their glances. "I have a few online classes lined up. I want to do this."
M believes strongly enough not to push. "If you change your mind, just let me know. I still have a few strings I can pull."
So does Astrid, to get the right 'friends' she needs.
2.
"You aren't… really leaving… right?"
Astrid looks around the many corn stalks to where Oscar is putting the small harvested ones in a crate. "Of course not. Who'd help you do this?"
He smiles a bit, shyly adverting his eyes. "But," his smile falls. "Don't you want to go?"
Astrid pretends to think about it. "Hmm, nah. You set me out into the world, I might end up toppling a few kingdoms."
"Az," Oscar groans and fumbles with the corn she throws at him. "Be serious."
"I am." She's smiling as she takes off another husk of corn. "I am happy here. If I do eventually leave, I'll likely go into some kind of person-itarian effort. Try to make the world a better place, you know? But I'm a simple person with simple tastes. Books and videogames and I'm set."
"Oh," Oscar sounds a little heartbroken.
"What do you mean, 'oh'?" she sticks her tongue at him. "Sounds like you're trying to get rid of me."
"It's not that," he waves his hands in surrender. "It's just… I don't know what I want."
"You're four," Astrid drops the last of the corn into the crate. It sounds heavy, but she's been doing this for years. No where near some huntsmen levels of strength, but stronger than the average civilian. "You don't need to know what you want to do. We teach you the basics, you decide from there."
"Can I come into town with you this weekend?"
"You just want to rent more comic books," she laughs at his protest. "Sure, Os. How about we make it a lunch? My treat."
3.
When Oscar gets sick, it's bad. Astrid takes over all the chores while M works, and it then falls to the girl to keep an eye on him. When Astrid comes back from her weekend online tutoring service, it's to him vomiting. She's awake all night, by his side and trying whatever she can to make him feel better.
It's a miracle that he sits up in the morning. Astrid feels her breath catch at the relief when he asks for something to eat. She holds off crying until after he's eaten soup and gone back to sleep, fever broken.
"You'd think he's your kid," M sighs and takes a sip of her wine. "Thanks for holding down the fort."
"I need a scroll," Astrid says. Truthfully, she needs a lot more than the three burners on her person. The money she has saved up could always get another device, but if M wants them in contact then she needs to get something different than a last-ditch burner between them. Astrid isn't shelling out; it would look bad for them if she did. "And just, stay. Please. For him. He misses you."
M looks down at the table, forlorn. They both know M wouldn't be out doing jobs so often if it was just Oscar. She would be more his caretaker if Astrid wasn't around. But the young ones are still children and need her there. "You kids make me soft."
That's a yes.
Oscar gets sick a few times a year, and Astrid feels awful each time. There is no way to prove if this is her semblance's doing or something else. She spends each time around the house, making sure it never gets any worse than the first time. Still, as the oldest in the house, she feels responsible and ends up taking over half his chores and most of his training.
"Why am I learning this?" Oscar sighs and holds the staff like she showed him.
"Because mum isn't here to show you anything else," Astrid clicks her tongue and lifts his left arm higher.
"If I learn this, then can I finally be allowed in the cellar?"
Astrid laughs. "No."
4.
Astrid has been riding the train to Mistral twice a year to take her exams. It is a week-long venture, though normally her exams are done by Friday. She does not use the libraries there, but instead makes a stop in small towns to send a few letters and make a few emails – all for her network – though cryptic messages directly from her alias are few and far between.
The weekend after her summer exams, she sends off several applications to huntsmen and huntress schools for those kids who cannot make the journey themselves, cannot risk getting caught sending the applications, or can't seem to make their own applications. Most of her fledgling network are those she tutored or helped by being baseline friendly. The few dozens of her adult contacts came after she helped them clear a conscious or out of a desperate situation.
It is all going so well. The reincarnated girl is building a life, gaining steady income, and having contingencies placed in case of any sudden disasters.
Fifteen and sixteen are when applications are allowed for the big-and-best four hunter and huntress schools, though some prodigies do apply early. Astrid is eighteen when a half-hearted search comes up with the tournament results of a twelve-years-old Pyrrha Nikos.
Astrid manages to shut down everything and stumble her way to the library's washroom for a panic attack.
Thank goodness she's finished her exams.
5.
"What is your semblance?" Oscar can ask because they are family.
Astrid still pauses and takes a long moment to answer. "Physics," she huffs a laugh. "My semblance is the laws of physics."
Which, explains a lot. He doesn't think that's all it is. If it was, then taking off the bandages around his neck would hurt. He remembers all his life it's never had more than a little sting to remove them. Nothing's peeled or stuck like it should. Oscar doesn't mention it, asking Astrid for stories about her semblance, but it does linger in the back of his mind.
Bandages for scrapes have left marks and are a pain to get off, even using her methods. The ones around his neck always sit where they should, don't come off unless he wants them too, and fall away like water when he peels them.
"You hate physics," Oscar points out.
His cousin makes a noise like she's dying. "I really do."
6.
The first time Oscar faces a Grimm when his cousin isn't there, his aunt hands him a gun. "No time like the present to try it."
He knows the basics from training but has never used one. The kickback jolts, the shot goes wide. Aunt Em clicks her tongue and kneels behind him, holding his arms steady this time. "Ready when you are."
The entire clip goes into the Grimm, a Beowolf. Em unsheathes her boomerang, decapitating the creature with unnerving accuracy as it reaches the edge of the barn.
"You did good, for your first time," she tells him, patting his head. Oscar beams up at her, clicking the safety on and handing the gun back. "Why don't we start hand-to-hand tonight? I'm sure your cuz would love to have her butt handed to her by yours truly."
He doesn't say he's already been learning from Astrid. Just agrees with a brighter smile that melts her heart.
Em pauses before picking up the wheelbarrow. "Don't tell Az what just happened." When his face falls, she hurries to add, "You'll get a chance to show her how good you are next time one comes around."
"Okay," Oscar agrees, none the wiser.
7.
There are not many children his age in the village, but Astrid's friends always look out for him. The librarian knows him by name. Some hunters and huntresses passing through show off their skills to a captive audience. Leaving the farm is never boring.
Sometimes, he wants to be like the hunters and huntresses. It's why he practices so hard in training. Aunt Em has openly admitted she wouldn't teach him more then the basics, since there are so little Grimm for him to practice on. She believes he has activated his aura, but with Astrid's semblance it is hard to tell.
Going to town with Aunty Em isn't as fun as going with his cousin, but today is important. He's moving into the loft in the barn. Astrid is tidying it up for him, promising it will be 'insulated' and that he can take whatever books or old toys she's dug up from her room: the cellar. Aunty Em does not have the best choices of what goes on beds, so it's up to Oscar to choose quilts and pillows! Apparently there is already a bed up there, but Aunt Em is going to carry home a new mattress for him.
He is so excited to get his own room. Astrid still won't let him see hers, but he will be the better person and let her see his when he's done.
When his aunt isn't looking, Oscar buys the action figure he's seen in stores with the money Astrid slipped him. He knows it was supposed to go to school supplies, but he doesn't want this one to be bought before he can save enough money for it. Not like the last one.
Or the one before it.
"Ready to go?" Em asks, carefully adjusting the mattress on her back.
Oscar quickly hides the toy in his new quilt. "Yep!"
8.
Oscar is woken to the tear-stained face of his aunt, but when he tries to scramble up she's pinning him to his bed. "Aunty, what-"
"Shh," she's shaking hard, petting his hair while her fearful eyes are glued to his neck. "You're okay Oscar. You're okay. It's going to be okay."
Before he can react, Astrid is there yanking Em off him. His aunt wails in his cousin's arms, begging Oscar not to move. He sits up, unsure.
"Em!" Astrid is shouting right next to her mother's ear. The same sentences over and over. "He is okay! It's fixed! It was just a nightmare!"
Oscar is frightened. Paralyzed.
Aunt Em eventually calms down, crying into Astrid's shoulder now and thanking her. Astrid slumps with a long out breath, petting her mother's hair. The smaller young woman picks up her mother, mouthing to Oscar, 'I'll be back.'
She isn't back soon enough, and he's pacing holes in the barn loft to ward off the nervous energy. "What was that?"
"A nightmare," Astrid holds open her arms and lets him try to suffocate her with a hug while she rubs circles on his back. Oscar takes in the welcoming, safe feeling that comes with his cousin and lets her sit them on his bed. "She thought we'd lost you. Not the first time she's had one, but I'm sorry you had to see it."
"No- it's fine." It's not. He never wants to hear his aunt wail like that again. Like she thought he was dying. "It's happened before?"
"Not often, but we all have nightmares every now and then." Astrid sighs. "I'm going to make some hot chocolate. Would you like one?"
"Please."
"Do you want to hear a story while it boils?"
"The one about the boy wizard?"
"Of course."
9.
"That's a lot of letters," Oscar says, staring across the kitchen table at his cousin.
Astrid just hums.
Aunt Em clicks her tongue. "Anything I need to know about?"
"Nothing important," Astrid says sweetly, with the face she uses when she's covering for Oscar. Astrid is a liar. "Not letting Oscar help tonight?"
"Not until he can reach the top cupboard." Oscar huffs at his aunt's answer. How rude. He knows he isn't a good cook, no need to make excuses. "Where are you heading with all those?"
"Katlo," Astrid replies, sealing the letter she opened in another envelope. Oscar straightens when the answer sinks in, because that means she'll be gone all weekend. He's going to be so bored. "Want me to pick up anything while I'm there?"
"I'll write a list."
"And the money for that list?"
Em sighs. "I'll give you a card."
"Thank you," Astrid sings. "Are we placing bets on the Vytal festival this year?"
Oscar, at thirteen, has never won the bets. "Only if you'll pay for me again."
"Of course," his cousin replies with ease.
"Anyone good?" Aunt Em asks, popping a carrot in her mouth.
"Well, Pyrrha Nikos started at Vale," that must mean something because Em groans about wasted potential. "Hey, they aren't that bad a school."
"None of their students have won since that Branwen," his aunt says with almost too much nonchalance.
Oscar has to ask, "Who's Branwen?" since Astrid makes such a face about it.
"No one," they answer in sync.
"That's not suspicious at all," he sasses.
"There were twins," his pretty-knowledgeable-about-strange-facts cousin explains. "At least one of the two is still a popular huntsman. The other… well…"
"Raven's a-"
"Language!" Astrid covers his ears. Oscar fights her for that.
"If you're going to tussle, do it outside," Em laughs and shakes her knife at them.
"Come on, Os," Astrid hefts him onto her shoulder. Oscar pounds on her back as he laughs. "Sparring time! Hit me with your best shot!"
Oscar is just happy he heals immediately after Astrid lands a hit. He always apologizes for the bruises on her, but the women in his family are weird and tell him they're proud he's gotten so good so fast.
"See you in a few days!" Astrid waves, blowing kisses while Oscar groans about the dramatics. "Don't work too hard without me!"
He has to do all her chores on top of his. Unfair. All because she has to go deliver other people's letters a town over.
Oscar doesn't ask, so he can't tell.
10.
Astrid made such a clatter climbing the ladder to his bunk that all he does is shift over with his book and let her faceplant onto his bed. "Why are you here?"
"Because I hate myself." That makes him pause. He turns, waiting for her to continue. "I've made a choice about something, and I'm telling myself no regrets. Want to beat me at videogames until I feel better?"
"Are you okay?" Oscar asks instead. "Do you need to talk with your mum?"
"I'll tell her," Astrid agrees.
He's lived with her long enough to know she will, but, "Right now?"
"In a week. Now, videogames?"
"Should I be worried?"
Astrid huffs and sits up, giving him a smug look. "You don't need to. It won't effect any of us."
He breathes a sigh of relief. "If it gets too much…"
"I can deal with it."
He trusts her. "I want a racing game."
"Meet you in the house in ten."
A/N: Growing up in Mistral gives everything a new light and teaches its citizens to be wary of things in the dark.
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