I normally put my author's notes at the end, but I'd rather let this story play out on its own ending.
When I set out to do this, I did not plan to write a story over 220k words long, nor did I think I'd be finishing the fic just shy of a year from when I started it. I doubt I will ever do a story so long and involved again, but even now as I'm writing this, I'm thinking about all the stuff that I could include in the epilogue, stories that still could be played out and what characters could use more attention. But that's the nature of stories, really: they never truly end unless you make them, and so I'm wrapping things up now with what I felt was most essential to the story, what best brings it to a close. But, of course, there is always, inescapably more.
I am grateful for all the support this story's received, from those of you who faved and followed, who wrote reviews—and especially those of you who reviewed so many chapters—and thank you to everyone who took the time to read a fanfic longer than Moby Dick. Thanks to DanishVulkanHestan, and Six02 for their feedback on chapters and ideas for this story, and a most grateful thanks to Renarde, who's been a part of this story from the original concept pitch that began from an idea for The King and I, to posting the very last chapter. Fanfiction is never a solitary practice, particularly when written in these highly-mobile online networks that kept me always in contact with my audience, and I am dearly appreciative to all of you for the experience of writing this fic.
For the first time in nearly twenty years, Weiss, Princess of the Grimm, was about to set foot on the soil of her homeland.
And she was doing so on her own.
Her siblings had all offered to accompany her, of course. Either to make it a full visit of the Royal Family to Atlas, or for Emerald or Blake, both already in Remnant, to covertly accompany her, shadowing her steps, just in case. Jaune had even asked if she'd want him to ask Ruby to come with—and then Ruby asked the same thing over the CCT, much more insistently. But Weiss had turned them down. Quite strongly. She was going to do this herself, by herself. To prove something to herself.
Her mind was… stronger than it used to be. Without the constant terror, she'd been able to grow from her childlike simplicity, though still not entirely whole just yet. And there were some things she wasn't about to give up from that mindset—Also Ruby was in her bag for this trip, after all. She wasn't holding it on the flight, but she knew she'd certainly be squeezing her frog tightly when she went to bed tonight. But she wasn't the fractured, childish mind she once was, cringing in fear from the world around her.
A glance to the airship window confirmed that the woman reflected there was not that frightened girl, but a mature young woman, a Princess of the Grimmlands, who'd overcome the prison of fears that the witch had sought to trap her within. There was a note of sadness in that, however. She hadn't seen her mother's spirit, the "Pretty Lady" as she used to think of her, since that battle with Salem. Weiss was… maybe not happy, but relieved that her mother was able to move on into whatever came after this life, secure in the knowledge that her daughter was safe from Salem, but at the same time… Weiss dearly wished she only had some more time. Just a little, to be able to see her mother now, when her mind was stable enough to understand it.
But… she had other family, and, at least, she now had the time to try to build with them what she no longer could with her mother.
Deboarding the aircraft, flanked by Atlesian Specialists, she paused a moment as she took in the chill of the Northern air and the warmth of the sun, bright in a blue sky, on her skin. With every step she took down the stairs, she was closer to touching the soil of Solitas, the land she was born in, where her family lived, where her mother was buried. It was an epic footfall as she crossed the last step and set foot on the tarmac, and yet, it was just… a step.
Planting both feet on the concrete, she took a deep breath, steadying herself as she heard the approach of the man who had come to greet her on her homecoming. She looked up and saw him smile to see her.
Whitley. Her… her brother.
She still felt a tinge of Salem's poison in her when she thought that. A reminder of the last time she'd encountered him, the reason why it had taken so long for her to feel confident enough in herself to go visit family. But… she also felt the presence of Jaune and her sisters. The reminder that she had grown and it had been years since the witch had any pull on her.
"Welcome to Atlas, Weiss," he said, all formal and reserved, "I've been told we can cause up to two international incidents this visit."
She couldn't help but smile as he cracked his joke, deflating the tension as his grin turned roguish and she took his hand, following him to the limousine that would take them to the family home. She'd spoken to Whitley before, via the CCT, and she knew he'd grown to be a mature and good-humored man, someone who'd risen from the family disgrace with grace and aplomb. It couldn't have been easy, but… they were all recovering from what Salem had done to their family. It gave her hope to see him doing so well.
And more than just him seemed to be on the upswing.
"The… the SDC seems to be doing well," she said softly, remembering what Blake had told her before her departure.
Whitley shook his head with a smile. "Grandpa's company is in good hands, you don't have to worry about that. Oh, but on that front, you probably haven't ever thought about this, but did you know you have a trust fund here?"
"A what?" she asked in honest confusion.
"A bunch of money and property set aside for us when we were kids," Whitley explained, "We all had one made in our name when we were born and when you were… away, father refused to let it be disbanded. And then, well, it was kept in your name even after everything… it's a lot of money, but… you're kind of beyond that now, aren't you? But part of that trust is some voting shares, so if you ever want to attend an investor's meeting..."
"Would I-" she asked, her voice dropping to a low, fretful tone, "Would I scare them?"
But he just laughed, an airy, reassuring sound. "It could only help if you did! They're the most dreadfully boring things you could ever imagine. Might make some of them think twice about demanding to know why numbers aren't as high as they should be when you're right there."
She leaned back in her seat. Weiss could picture these officious and self-important elite, the aristocracy of Remnant, suddenly coming face to face with someone beyond their petty machinations and the accumulation of wealth. Like a boogeyman, reminding them that they, too, never truly outgrew their childhood fears.
Grinning, she turned to her… her brother. "Sounds like fun. But I'm going to have to keep Blake from trying to get her fingers in it."
"Ha! Don't let any of my people hear you say that—they're terrified you've got some sinister agenda for us all, and particularly the SDC."
She laughed along with him, but her laugh trailed to something less certain. "But..." she searched for her words, "How do you know I… don't?"
He gave her a smile, slight, but resilient. "Weiss… my life wasn't nearly as hard as yours, but with Dad's… problems and Winter being so driven, I didn't really have much family. While Dad and Winter were putting everything towards 'rescuing' you," even now, she still flinched to think about it, "I just… I always knew to stay out of their way. Don't be noticed, don't be a problem for them, just… keep your head down. And that drew everyone who thought they could flatter their way into wealth. Since I turned 13, I have been surrounded by yes-men and phonies, but when everything went down and the whole world flipped over… they all left in a hurry. And you know what?" He looked into her eyes, a soft, resilient blue, just like her own, "I realized how free I felt. With the family name in tatters, I could be myself for the very first time. And I liked it. It suited me, gave me space to rebuild."
She nodded. "And that means..."
"Oh, yeah," he rubbed his neck, "I… have a tendency to ramble, when I talk about myself, don't I? But what I mean is, I've had so many people, so many humans, trying to manipulate me that this idea that, because you're a Grimm Princess, you have to have some sinister scheme and evil intention… it's just silly. Maybe you or your sister has some nefarious plan for us, but, hey, that's half the board. So as far as I'm concerned… you're still family. No matter what."
She looked down, whispering a quiet "thank you" as she regained her composure. Looking back up, Weiss was… she was grateful, more than anything. Grateful that she still had family she could go to. And even if facing her father and Winter, knowing… knowing what she knew, at least Whitley had her back.
He gave her a sly grin, "And because you've still got Schnee blood, I don't doubt it's itching to see our latest developments we're making in Dust technology."
Weiss smiled back. Honestly and genuinely. "I would like that."
They talked. They talked about family and business; they made up for lost time. He told her about his girlfriend, a fellow "Black Sheep" of the prestigious Marigold family, she told him about the Grimmlands, of her trips deep into the wild, communing with the Primeval Darkness. It was something… normal. So normal, as though they'd grown up together and had only parted as adults, catching up on what was new as Weiss made a holiday visit. He made her feel normal, like Ruby always did, and for that, Weiss was so very grateful.
She felt the car slow to a stop. Taking a look out the window, she saw the family manor. Where she had spent the first, forgotten years of her life. Her father and sister were here. Her… her mother's grave was here. And she would see them, as herself, more herself than she had been in years.
The door opened with a clunk. Whitley had gone around and opened it for her while she was just staring at the facade of the mansion. Once more, she was on the precipice of something so small, and yet, a step that would have been impossible even a year ago.
Taking her brother's hand, she took a deep breath and stepped out from the car.
Ambassador Yang Xiao Long, Envoy for all Humanity and Faunuskind to the Grimmlands, recipient of the Osric Peace Prize, and a Valean 30 Under 30, purposefully strode across the plaza of the United Kingdoms building. Averting a global war and becoming close friends with the ruling Grimm powers when you were 18 put you on the fast track in life, and Yang, never one to rest on her laurels, took it as a chance to rise to the occasion. She was an international diplomat, spearheading initiatives for peace, Faunus rights, and international justice, and she looked good while doing it. Sipping her coffee, she heard an excitable bunch of kids, a class tour, no doubt, behind her gasp in awe as they recognized who was walking in front of them.
One little one had worked up the courage to cry out, "Miss Xiao Long! Miss Xiao Long!" in that excitable tone of voice Yang now heard regularly when she was recognized in public.
She had a meeting, but… hell with it, it was with Ozpin, so as she'd learned from Glynda, he was going to be late. So she had time!
Pausing for a moment to build tension, she slowly turned around and took off her sunglasses, cracking a grin to the stunned schoolchildren. They went silent as she approached them, and Yang had to admit: inspiring awe in people was the sort of feeling she would never get used to, but she sure did enjoy it.
"Hey kids!" she waved, watching the smiles just explode across the crowd, "Here on a school trip?"
They met her with an eager chorus of affirmation. Damn, they were adorable.
"Well, stay in school, listen to your teachers, and don't be afraid to break a few rules if you know what's really important." She looked at the teachers chaperoning and gave them an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that last one."
The kids all laughed, delighted to hear they had permission for mischief in pursuit of a good cause.
"So!" she said, turning back to the kids, "Who here wants to work for world peace?"
Hands shot up in a wave of "ME! ME! ME! I DO! I DO!"
Yang had to laugh to see their enthusiasm. "Then I know the world's in good hands," she told them. "So long as you stand up for doing what's right, we'll make the world a better place!"
If only the world was so simple. But they were kids and didn't need to get a talk about resolving intractable problems between people and cultures. At the same time… the world needed optimism as much as it needed rationality. It needed people who'd skip past sense and invite the royalty of a kingdom of monsters to a poorly supervised party, just as much as it needed people who could step in and give the kind of support her mother knew how to give when Yang had found out how deep their suffering went. It wasn't easy, but… Yang knew they could build a better world. She'd been there and seen it happen once before, after all.
"Ms. Xiao Long?" a little Faunus girl asked, her ears nervously (and adorably) flatten on her head, "But… what do we do when it's… when… when it's not easy to see what the right thing to do is?"
Kneeling down to look the kid in the eye, Yang paused a moment before speaking.
At Beacon, when she'd first met the Royal Family, she'd been impulsive… and lucky. Very, very lucky. So much of what happened was because of factors she was wholly blind to, and the sensible course would not have been to invite brutally abused and indoctrinated child soldiers to a party… but that party had been the crux by which change had begun. She'd listened to Pyrrha and treated her like a person, not a monster. Ruby had met Weiss, the start of a fast friendship that had changed the both of them, Emerald had made the first steps to her identity in a conversation with the girl she was now dating, and Blake had… very nearly killed her that night. Yang had played it cool, but she was damn well aware, even now, how unstable, how lethal Blake could easily have been. But it had come to work out well in the end, with Blake later coming to Yang to confide in her, to tell her the truth of what Salem was.
"It's not easy," she admitted, "And there have been a lot of times when I realized I was way out of my depth. But… you're not on your own. There are more good people around you—and more good in some people than you'd ever expect—and so even when things look impossible… if you stick it out and stand up for what's right, you'll find that help's on the way. We all have to be brave and," she looked to the other students, looking back at her with rapt attention, "we have to help each other out. Can I count on you for that?"
The girl nodded as the rest of her classmates eagerly agreed. Good—maybe it was just a chance encounter, a good story for an excitable child to share with their parents later, but for all she knew… maybe she'd just spoken to a future world leader. Maybe she'd just said something that'd stick with them and change the whole world… or maybe it'd give a kid the courage to stand up for someone getting picked on. Something that didn't change the whole world but change one kid's world forever for the better. She could always hope.
Shooting the kids a parting thumbs up (with her signature yellow artificial hand), she turned to head on to her meeting. Sure, she'd be late now, but seeing these kids had been a reminder of what Yang was here for in the first place.
Swinging his axe overhead, Ghira allowed himself to get lost in the motion, splitting logs one after another, the rhythmic thwock, thwock, thwock of his axe parting the wood providing the ticking of a great universal clock. This was how he measured his life now, not by calendars or timepieces but in the movements of the here and now.
It was a better life than he deserved.
After the trial, he and Kali had published a book about their experiences, their journey through grief and despair, a full accounting of their crimes, and a message of remorse and a call for understanding. They no longer had, nor wanted, political influence, but it brought in enough money for them to live comfortably under house arrest. The punishment wasn't… much, not in terms of the crimes they'd committed, but the world had needed to move on.
He, and the rest of the conspiracy, had pled guilty to attempted murder and a dozen other attendant charges. There were factions in the Kingdoms who wanted them to receive no punishment, to send a message to the new ruling powers of the Grimm that Remnant was not open for a new relationship, and there was a faction, Ghira knew, that wanted execution—to send a message to the Grimmlands that they were wholly washing their hands of the attack, or worse, the faction who sought to capitulate in utter terror of what five Salems could do to Remnant.
An unknown voice had, in a secret meeting, made a call for clemency. Had lobbied the delegates and had successfully pushed for a merciful sentence for Ghira, Kali, Ilia, Jacques, and Winter. It was a great mystery who had done it, the attendees in question kept their oaths of secrecy as serious as anyone could, but Ghira had a feeling he could guess who she was.
Or at least, he felt it, and that was as good as truth to Ghira now.
Now, he lived a quiet life in seclusion, watching the world continue to turn without his involvement. Learning that he didn't have to have a hand in things, didn't have to fix every problem and trust that his people could lead themselves. It was a-
"Umm..."
That voice.
He'd recognize it anywhere. He'd heard that voice at Beacon, heard it address the world calling for a global affirmation of the rights of all sapients, heard it speak out in support of a global literacy program, had heard it in every single one of her public appearances.
His daughter's voice.
Ghira turned, slowly, his head still in a fog from hearing her voice in person, the sight of her face nearly unmaking him right then and there. She was… it was his dear, precious daughter. His baby girl. Now 22, and even with her skin as white as bone, the spitting image of her mother with her hair worn short.
"I… I know I shouldn't- shouldn't have done this, but I- I couldn't- I had to-"
He just spread his arms wide.
Tears in her eyes, Blake surged forward, throwing her arms around Ghira's waist and for the first time since she was three years old, Ghira Belladonna really and truly hugged his daughter close to his chest.
Four years ago, he'd embraced her, but it was a false and cruel deception of a wicked witch. But now… this was her. The real her, the Blake he'd wanted back so badly he'd nearly lost her forever. A moment he could never have possibly deserved, but in this moment, there was no "deserved." His daughter was here, and that was all that mattered.
"Ghira? Is someone..."
He opened his eyes and looked to where his wife was standing in the door, the clatter of the laundry basket she had been carrying dropping to the floor, its contents spilling on the ground, unnoticed. Her jaw hung open in disbelief, but in her eyes… in her eyes she saw her daughter again.
"Mom?" Blake asked, her voice tremulous, "I- I'm back..."
She stepped forward, her footing so careful, as though this was a dream and it would only take one misstep for the ground to open up beneath her and swallow her up, but driven to take step after step forward, faster and faster, the tears already streaming down her eyes until she stood before her daughter.
And hugged her.
They all wept now, wept with open abandon, tears of grief and happiness and just the raw, unnameable emotion of family itself, brought together after so many years, so many mistakes, so many times they thought they would never be brought together again.
There would be words later. Many words, apologies and stories and things they'd meant to say for years but right now was not the time for words. With his daughter in his arms, Ghira embraced the lesson he should have learned so long ago, and just let the moment be.
Immortality.
Jaune didn't like to ponder it. To imagine that he might live long enough to see the constellations change, to see kingdoms rise and fall, to see mountains rise and fall… and to be there, through it all… would he change? He did not grow or age any longer, his appearance was already growing slightly out of date as he still looked like a teenager. Every year, that would be more and more out of step, unless he chose to craft a new appearance for himself. But… would that appearance be what he would have looked like if he'd naturally lived to be 25? Or a more flattering version of what he wanted himself to be? And would he stop in his 20s? His 30s? Would he want to look like a youthful prince, a dignified king, a wise, old sage?
And would he meet the gods? One day, by accident or deliberate choice, face them personally as a man, a King, the inheritor of their curse… and see them judge all of Humanity. Or perhaps, he would contest them, force them to acknowledge their own limits if Salem's curse could have ended like this? He didn't know, but he knew he would, inevitably, meet them one day. It was a heavy thought, and he could feel it radiate through the Grimm out beneath him.
Grimm churned, an alien psychology born from deific frustration and spite that Jaune… understood in a way he never really liked. They were an endless presence in the world, something that had to be managed rather than something that could be exterminated once and for all. Pyrrha suggested that there was advantage in that, that they could never really trust that there wouldn't come a time when peace wasn't an option. Because the world held another race, the creatures of the light who stood in unavoidable opposition to them. Blake was always warning him that even with best intentions and good leaders, there was always a new cause for strife. Emerald, in her many journeys around the world, gave them firsthand reports of what the people of Remnant were thinking, and even Jaune's faith in the inherent goodness of people wasn't so naive to ignore that there would always be distrust, fear, anger, greed… it would be an endless task that stretched beyond the ages.
But at the same time… there were people like Yang in the world.
Bravery. Hope. Kindness. Just like Ozpin had suggested at that first summit, Jaune could see it in the world, in his friends and in the new generation of world leaders coming up in the world. That was what Ozpin told him, that living for thousands of years wasn't torture if you kept going back to the people of the mortal world. Yes, it would mean more heartbreak, it would mean more sorrow… but it would be worth it, he had promised, to meet so many more humans and Faunuses, to find so much more to love as the years rolled on without end.
And he had more than just the mortal world...
"Are you alright?"
His wife. Well, one of his wives. Pyrrha, Blake, and he had been married in a quiet ceremony. Yang had been their officiant, the girl who had first looked past their monstrous forms and saw teenagers with awkward crushes and emotional insecurities, who needed friends and understanding. It was her or Ozpin, but he'd taken himself out of consideration for the role with the reasoning that they carried the soul of his ex-wife—he'd figured it a worrisome omen for them at the start of a new relationship. And Yang had done wonderfully. She'd given a magnificent speech about hope for the future, and at that moment, Jaune had never been more certain that there was much to hope for.
He felt his wife lay a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"You know," she said, "you always go to this balcony to ponder ominous things… what's wrong? I'm sure Weiss is doing fine."
He shook his head. "It's not Weiss..."
"Blake?" she asked, the meaning obvious in her voice.
"No… I'm sure they're okay." He meant it. The one thing Jaune truly knew in the world was his sisters, and he knew the both of them finally facing up to their fears and anxieties would end with them in a tearful embrace with their family members, the relief and catharsis that came with forgiveness, both in Weiss's long planned visit to her family and Blake's "secret" visit to her parents, that, of course, Jaune and Pyrrha knew about.
"Well, it's too early for Emerald and Coco to break up again, so I know it's not them. So tell me what it is—I know better than anyone that just sitting on your emotions doesn't do any good."
He turned to his wife with a soft smile. She knew him so well, and he'd relied on her, time and time again, to be his rock as he slowly rebuilt himself, just as his sisters were doing.
"Just thinking about… immortality," he said, "Just… knowing that I'm going to outlive everyone is… hard. Not just thinking about Yang and Ruby and Mrs. Rose, but," his eyes flickered to the sword hanging over the mantle, Crocea Mors, the sword that killed Salem… and had been entrusted to him by his family as a reminder of who he was and where he came from, "I'm going to live to see my great-great-great grand nieces and nephews, and… it's a lot to bear."
"It doesn't end," Pyrrha agreed, "But… there's always something to look forward to. Always something we can work for, always . And..." she gave him a sly look, before snuggling into his arms, "I'm still discovering new things about you, and I always thought you were just an open book. I always thought… I had watched you so closely, thought about you so much when I was younger that I couldn't be surprised. And yet… when I saw you lose a fight, something unthinkable to me back then, you weren't upset. You were happy, even, and that was… that was when everything changed. And since then… there's always something new to find in you, Jaune."
"I hope you still find me so interesting a thousand years from now," he said, half joking.
"Ask me again in a thousand years, then," she said, putting an arm around his waist. "But I have the feeling that I'm never going to stop finding you fascinating. No more than you'll ever get bored of me."
With that, he and Pyrrha just stood together, leaning on one another as they looked upon their lands together. The rich purple and reds of the Grimmlands were beautiful in a twilight way, the eternal change between light and dark, dawn and dusk, day and night. And while Jaune stood as King of one realm, it was in constant contact, and, hopefully, harmony with the world that stood outside the Land of Darkness.
Emerald was in Vale. Weiss in Atlas. Blake officially in Mistral, but Jaune, of course, knew she was making a trip to Menagerie. And here, in the Castle of Darkness, were Jaune and Pyrrha.
But as far away as they were, Jaune felt as connected to his sisters as he did when they were all in court. He could feel them, on the edge of his senses, through the connection they now shared in the Darkness, both in their curse and in their history. And with that feeling he knew… he knew that all was well. Even if there was a long way to go, even if healing was still a daunting process, there was so much love in his life, in his family, his friends, and the infinite possibility in the world that stretched out before him, that Jaune knew that all was, and would be, well.