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Chapter 2: Acclimation

Jaune stared in the mirror, face dripping with water. Even washing himself down didn't seem to alleviate the surprise rocking his core. His stomach ached and twisted within, almost as tight as his beating heart. His hands had fallen to the sides of the sink, gripping at the porcelain. No longer was he a man in his late twenties, sporting a blond beard – no, he was a sixteen-year-old boy again, not even enrolled in Beacon. This was the year he decided he was going to be a Huntsman, but with absolutely no direction on where to go about doing so.

Strangely enough; he could barely remember the events of the day before. All his memories were of the war, the decade long conflict that consumed Remnant. Every memory burned with the faces of the friends and family he'd lost. He was unable to face his sisters; each one died in the beginning of the war. There was no way he could face them, knowing how he wasn't there to save them. The blood, the Grimm, the fallen. He growled at his image, shoving his fist into the glass, cracking and shattering the reflection. A distant yelp was barely heard behind the bathroom door.

Blood snaked into the cracks and loose shards, trickling down like tears. His knuckles were ripped open, pieces lodged past the flesh. Eyes trailed up, gazing at the bruise slowly fading on his pale face, he sighed in despair. Hair hung loose against his cold skin, clinging like hooks. He didn't know what to make of all of this; what to say or even what to do. Nothing in his life could prepare him for this. Surely, his sisters must be wondering what was wrong with him, after all, he did pry his toddler sisters off his arms and pushed past his oldest without even batting an eye of terror. Something definitely out of character for me before going to Beacon. Everything I did was meticulous, failing and loving my sisters with every ounce of my being. Now, I barely looked at them, ignored their inquiries and stormed to the bathroom. I can only imagine what's going through their heads right now…

The Arc frowned, looking up to his spider webbed reflection. He was lean, no baby fat but he was lanky with just enough muscle to get him through. And on top of that; his dismal state of dress and self-awareness. If it weren't for how worried he was, he would have forgotten to pay attention to his surroundings – his sisters were piling against the door. Their worry felt so strong, he could almost touch it. He sighed once again, pushing off the porcelain sink and wiped his face.

How did I even end up in the past? Jaune frowned. Did it have something to do with Oscar/Ozpin when he gave me his aura? He is the only person I can think of that can explain this…but would he even believe me? I can only imagine his response. No matter…my time – the future is lost. All because of Salem.

His brows furrowed as a phantom pain rushed through his chest and abdomen. It sped through his body with a searing rage that took the balance from beneath him. Knees slammed against the tile flooring immediately causing an uproar amongst the woman gathered at the bathroom door. He could hear them banging begging for him to tell them what was wrong. He could feel their fear.

Salem. If I truly have been brought back to the past, that means she knows nothing of who I am nor of my semblance. Jaune thought to himself. That means…

"Pyrrha…" He all but whispered. "Ren, Ruby, everyone is still alive…"

Shooting to his feet, Jaune rushed to the door, twisting the knob. As the door swung open, five women were seen, red faced and huffing with anger in their brows and worry in their eyes. Rosemary stood in the back, keeping watch over the toddlers while his fellow triplets – Doré and Clair – stood in front of the women, hands red from how hard they were slamming their fists against the door. Violette and Rosé stood behind with equally worried expressions, but were far more reserved than Jaune's own triplet siblings.

"What is wrong with you, Jauney?!" Doré exclaimed. "First you pry yourself from the little ones – something you've never done – even when you are frustrated, then you lock yourself in the bathroom, then we hear your whispering to yourself in there! And what the hell happened?! Did you punch the mirror?!"

"Gods!" Clair quickly added. "You left in such a hurried daze; it was almost as if you were scarred by something. What happened, why did you punch the mirror?! Tell us!"

Jaune stayed silent, sapphire blues staring at eyes that matched his own. Doré was born before him, just a few seconds while Clair apparently wrapped her hand around his ankle holding onto him as he came into the world. The beautiful warriors crossed their arms over their chests, glaring and huffing indignantly. Clair did her best to retain a face of peace and diplomacy but his silence irked her beyond belief. Doré though, looked worried beyond belief for her older brother. Sure, she picked on him when he first woke up, she would have never expected an outburst like that.

Clair reached forward, hands wrapped around his wound. Slowly but surely, a bright incorrigible light glowed from within, mending the wound, removing the glass and setting his bones straight. It was warm, reminding him of the first time he used his semblance in Forever Fall against Cardin. It was no surprise that he and his triplet sisters would have the same semblance – to an extent. Once the wound was healed, the questions came, bombarding him once again, leaving him with barely enough room to breathe.

"Jaune." Rosé, spoke softly, quickly silencing the other girls. "You scared us back there…shooting up with no recollection of where you were, I've never seen you look so scared before. But what really surprised me, you pushed the toddlers away, almost as if they were nothing more than an obstacle…you've never treated them like that. Never."

"You look like you're seen death himself, and a thousand battles." Rosemary spoke up, interrupting the woman. "Neither of which we know you haven't seen. What is wrong, Jaune."

"Nothing." He responded. "I just had a headache and felt uncomfortable. The little ones were taking up a lot of space and made it hard to move. I didn't mean to treat them like that but it's just I had a vivid dream that really messed me up…"

Violette and Rosé felt a little relieved at his response. Rosemary though didn't seem impressed but didn't push the issue, hoisting the little toddler girls into her arms and walking away. While the older women decided to move along and headed off through the living room, a strong punch whipped through the air towards the man's shoulder.

Without thinking, Jaune whipped his arm around, catching the offending appendage. With a flick of his wrist, he twisted the incoming fist and arm, forcing the assailant to heel before him. Almost like lightning, color returned to his vision to reveal Doré held in an armlock, a searing blush of embarrassment on her pale face. Jaw dropped and sweat pouring down her brow, Clair was even shocked at how quickly her brother reacted.

"H-How did…?" Doré's jaw fell slack. "W-What you did…"

"I…don't know." Jaune trailed. So, it seems the skills I've learned and gained from a decade of war stayed with me. I wonder if my semblance still works despite not having my aura unlocked.

"Jaune…" Clair's eyes turned stern. "What are you hiding from us? If you won't tell Rosemary, Rosé or even Violette – at least tell us."

Doré massaged her shoulder, wincing at the intense pressure he forced upon her joints. "What you did required full-fledged Huntsmen reaction – something you haven't shown until now. First the intense wake up, then the intense trek to the bathroom and even smashing mirrors. You're being strange, Jauney. At least, more strange than usual…"

"Okay, I get it." The man glared at his sister. "I'm being different, I'm doing things that I normally wouldn't. You don't have to remind me that I suck at everything."

"H-Hold it, Jaune." Doré winced. "I never said that! I didn't even think that! I'm just surprised and honestly scared."

"Why?" He gave her a confused look.

"You were knocked out bad, yesterday." Clair and Doré shared a worried look. "You really can't stop trying to prove to father that you can be a Huntsman. You fought him with so much energy and strength but all of that meant nothing when you don't have aura to augment your abilities. But now, you're showing skills you shouldn't even have…something's up, Jaune. And we want to know – now."

His world turned dark and heavy. The face of Doré suddenly contorted in pain, blood seeped from the corners of her eyes, blending with the bleeding mascara. Through her armor, a sharp blade had seared through. Beside her, Clair stood with arrows in her back and bullet holes in her chest. She too stared aimlessly, color devoid in those once vibrant eyes. He could see their demise once again. His breath hitched, sending shivers up and down his spine, ripping through his stomach and intestines.

It wasn't long before the vision disappeared, leaving nothing but his hyperventilation. Air turned scarce as the images fled. Doré and Clair were fine, their faces contorted with worry. His balance had somehow disappeared with the memories, spinning his mind within his pounding skull. Falling back, he was certain he was going to crash through some furniture.

Thankfully, a pair of hands caught him by the sleeves of his shirt and pulled him to safety. Doré and Clair grabbed their brother and held him close. His chest rose and fell rapidly, volatile and rough. Sweat had dribbled down his brow, clashing with their necks feeling colder than ice. His hands shook, twitched with a terror unseen before. Words had escaped them. Despite it all, Rosemary, Rosé and even Violette seemed to not even notice.

Jaune was hoisted into the air, arms slung over the two girls' shoulders. "Jauney…you have some serious explaining to do…"

"I have no idea what to make of all of this, Doré." Clair sighed. "There has to be a reason…"

Jaune stood before himself, eyes planted with the man in front of him. Blond beard, thick and rustled. A deep scar etched from just above his left brow down to his mid cheek, seemed eerily reminiscent to Weiss and her own scar. The man wore full plate armor, accented with the remains of one Pyrrha Nikos's weapons and tiara. It covered his chest, legs and even formed greaves. Pauldrons covered both shoulders with bracers of the same metal and accents. He was broad shouldered and strong chested, even stood a head taller than he was now.

The image was incredible; a great torn vermilion cape flowing from his body, a gift from his late friend Ruby Rose, just as she died. His bracers were wrapped in the gauntlets of her dearest sister, Yang Xiao Long. On his sides, a pair of machine pistoles with knives rested – Stormflower, the weapons of his only brother – Lie Ren. Their semblances echoed within him, reminding him of what he had suffered up to this point.

Raising a palm, pink energy vibrated, slowly entrapping his entire appendage. It rumbled, hummed and sang songs to him, calming his rushing thoughts. Looking up, the man in front of him was different. His hair was slightly on fire, irides bleeding crimson. The gauntlets had activated, wrapping around the bracers he wore and even covered his forearms completely. Sadly, one malfunctioned and sparked violently before shutting off completely.

While it couldn't shoot shotgun shells anymore, it sure as hell added more protection. Since Yang had lost her arm, the Atlas tech may have been state of the art, it still needed extra protection – the gauntlets provided well enough. A small smile grew on his and the older man's faces at the memory of the arrival of Yang in Mistral on board her trusty bike, Bumblebee. Yang's new arm was magnificent and painted to match that of her gauntlets and color scheme. The look on her face when she saw Ruby…

Jaune frowned, remembering how everything took a deep dive shortly after RWY and JNR reunion in Haven Academy. First, the invasion by the White Fang, followed by Grimm incursions past their natural defenses, then Salem's first personal appearance. Jaune achieved his first kill that day, ending Adam Taurus before he could even attempt to strike Yang down once and for all. That was the first victory – he even scored a hot and steamy night with said blonde, losing his virginity. Even then, Anima, Haven and Mistral – it was a sore subject for the Arc.

Mass retreats, mass genocide and worst of all – Salem managed to use one of the Relics that Qrow had spoken of, and sunk the entire continent beneath the ocean. The battlefields changed and the freemen and Faunus-kind rushed to Solitas and Atlas, ready to defend the next kingdom in danger. But what happened to Atlas was similar to Haven – dead bodies littering fields, painting the once white snowy glaciers into a sickly maroon palette. So many died trying to defend Atlas, hell even the SDC gave everything they could to help defend the Kingdom.

In the campaign, it was revealed to all by a young boy named Oscar who carried Ozpin's cane and energy, that Jaune Arc was descended from the last King of Vale – the very one who ended the last Great War. Many didn't believe it until the death of Yang Xiao Long that drove the once dormant semblance within him to waken. All it took was for her to sacrifice herself by giving up the last bit of aura she had.

Yang… Jaune wondered. How is she? Probably enjoying her time in Patch.

Unbeknownst to him, a large stray tear dropped from his left eye, trailing against his cheek. Her death was a wakeup call for the Arc. Despite being able to strike down their enemies and push Salem's forces back – his friends still ended up dying and in the end, it was all for naught as Salem somehow managed to win. She managed to bring him and his forces to their last leg in the sands of Vacuo, surrounded by the ruins of Shade Academy.

"What can I do to change the future?" Jaune asked himself.

The man huffed, scratching his beard. "I'd start by finding out where Cinder is. After all, she was the key in the Fall of Beacon."

"Cinder Fall…" He whispered. "Any idea where to look?"

"That, I cannot help you." The older version laughed. "You'll have to figure that one out on your own. But I will give a hint, try Hei Xiong. Also known as Junior – he runs a club down in Vale, deals with the shady side of business. If you remember – he helped Yang and Neptune try to find Roman Torchwick in our second semester at Beacon."

"That's right…" Jaune adopted a thinking pose. "Think he'll croak if he does know?"

"Not too sure." The man fell into the same pose. "But if you play your cards right – you'll have ears and eyes in the underworld and in the streets. Besides, every king needs a spymaster and an army."

"No one knows that yet." Jaune cried. "Hell, I'm certain my own family doesn't know. Else, my father would have fought tooth and nail to become King of Vale."

"Oh, naïve little me." Older Jaune bellowed with laughter. "There is so much that you don't know."

"Keep in mind, I am you and you are me." The boy glared. "What information you have is what I have. So why can't I remember?!"

"It has been a few days since you've awoken in the past." Older Jaune responded. "Slowly but surely, as new memories are made – the old ones are removed and replaced. You can't remember because you've already deviated from the timeline, doing things differently, reacting differently, responding differently – everything has an effect, Jaune. And right now, the Butterfly Effect is in full swing."

"Tell me. Now." Jaune said with a threatening tone.

"No."

Suddenly, all color had disappeared. The image of an older man disappeared as well. His eyes registered his surroundings, finding his white and gold room, painted and decorated accordingly. X-Ray and Vav posters on the walls, Spruce Willis movies stacked neatly upon a shelf against the TV. His bed was neat, already done and barely ruffled, despite his meditative trance. On the far side of the room, a collection of fake weapons made from wood and other non-lethal material, leaned against the wall, stacked as neatly as the rest of his belongings.

Rising from his bed, he stretched, shedding the Pumpkin Pete sweater revealing his shirtless form. Strong muscles – definitely from how skinny he is – and long legs. He sighed at his sheer luck. It would be another nine months before he could even attempt to apply to Beacon. Knowing the future was a serious pain and honestly, the Sixteen-year-old didn't know what to do with his free time.

"Jaune?"

Jaune snapped up, quickly throwing a muscle shirt on, he collapsed onto the bed, pulling a comic book to read. "Yes, Mom?"

"Jaune…" A soft voice came from behind the doorway. A beautiful woman walked in, followed by a wolf's tail. "You're reading a comic book, this late in the day? After learning what you did to Doré a few days ago, I would have assumed you'd be outside training. Especially since your father practically demands to train you now."

"I'm just tired…" He frowned. "I guess showing that I wasn't a complete failure changed his mind."

"Jaune…" She frowned. "Your father doesn't think that at all. He's just…"

"Difficult?" He rolled his eyes. "Seems fair that he'd use his hardened skin and emotions on us."

The Faunus sighed. "It's harder to explain than that, Jaune…just get some rest if you are so tired."

"Marie…" Jaune spoke up, sapphire eyes slowly rising from the carpet of his room. "Thank you."

"For?" The woman gave Jaune a small look of confusion.

"For being the mother, I never knew." The boy laid back, tossing the comic book back into its holding bin and kicked his legs into the mattress. "You've raised us the best you can and even gave us two more sisters…though I'm sure the Arc family could do well with less women…"

"Oh hush, Jaune." She cried with laughter. "You're sounding like your father, Claude."

"Goodnight, mom."

"Goodnight, son."

Just as the door shut, a searing pain burned through his brain. Marie's screams echoed in his eardrums. The howling roars of Grimm Beringel and the high-pitched screech of Nuckelavee followed suit. A hand rushed to his chest to stop his racing heart. The other hand fell to the bed sheets, gripping the linen and fabric for dear life. Tears stung at the corner of his eyes as the memories were vivid within his thoughts – the death of all he held dear, the blinding of Hazel, the death of Mercury and Emerald, and his first solo kill of a Nuckelavee. The destruction of the island of Vytal – the last island base he had before being pushed into Sanus.

I won't let any of you die…not this time. He thought to himself. They said I am a King…what King lets his friends and family die helpless deaths…

I will change history. I will make sure I do.

Jaune stood still, bare-chested, save for the leather armor covering his left pectoral. Thigh guards of leather fell to cover his tattered jeans. With a bored look, a live-steel arming sword swung through the air in preparation for the spar. Across the field stood three retainers of the Arc family. They too wore the same clothing and armor. Two were human and one was a ram horned Faunus. One wielded a greatsword, massive beyond belief; another wielded an axe and the Faunus wielded a sword.

"I'm ready." The Arc called with a courage he never mustered before. "Are you?"

"Master Arc…" The Faunus responded. "Please, your aura isn't unlocked – you will not heal if our blades hit you. Please reconsider this."

"Don't worry." Jaune smiled. "It's okay. I'll just make sure to not get hit."

All heads turned to face Doré holding a red flag and a white flag. With a nod at the men gathered on either side of the sparring field, she quickly raised the red flag, signaling the beginning of the spar. Men and women, servants and guards of the compound stopped what they were doing to watch the fight. All seven sisters had gathered, eyes planted with Jaune and what he was going to do.

Taking a deep breath, he wasted no time.

Rushing ahead, he swung his blade forward, clashing with that of the Ram Faunus. The amount of power he put into it, sent the guard skidding back, creating a massive opening between himself and the two human opponents. In the crowd, Doré's jaw dropped at the sheer strength behind the attack – even Clair was surprised.

Using the agility, he trained years to cultivate, Jaune flipped about dodging and weaving between axe attacks and greatsword swings. He surprised himself – he hasn't even broken a sweat. Using his smaller frame to his advantage, he aimed about, attacking at weak spots in their aura. His blade sliced against their bodies and leather armor, beaming at the invisible shield. The man growled against the constant pain and was suddenly knocked from the sparring circle, signifying his disqualification. Rosé actually jumped to her feet, cheering and clapping wildly for her little brother.

Turning his attention to the second human – a man that was almost an entire foot taller than him, charged with a greatsword, easily as tall as he who wielded it. The giant of a man swung the beastly creation as if it were as light as a feather. The Arc dodged the massive blade, not once daring to meet the edge with his shield. Swerving about, hairs in check and peripherals watched, he jumped around the man's wide swing.

Forcing all the strength he could muster, he rammed his foot into the man's cheek, breaking his stance and mid-swing assault. The amount of power left him in a daze, stumbling like a maniac. Now the brute was disabled, he could turn his attention to the ram Faunus. Jaune charged ahead, beating his shoulder against the man's bare chest, knocking him back once again. As the man turned dizzy, the Faunus charged up, head pointed down and horns ready to mow him down.

He only smirked, bringing his shield up ready to clash with the Faunus. While the man cheered within, crying out with happiness, he didn't take into consideration what Jaune was planning. At the absolute last second, Jaune pulled away, sidestepping the Faunus as he dashed ahead, tripping over the sparing ring borders and landed on his face.

"You tried." Jaune smirked.

The last opponent slowly stumbled, doing what he can to maintain his consciousness. But such a thing was no good against Jaune Arc. Jumping forward, he shoved his knee into the man's abdomen, breaking his aura and his balance completely. His entire body actually glowed an electric pink-red as the knee dug deeper into his muscles. Now, if Jaune had his aura, he was certain he would've been able to launch the man back a few feet.

Relenting, the man collapsed to his knees, grasping his stomach for a few moments. But that moment of reprieve was short lived – Jaune launched his foot forward, shoving his foot into the man's face, breaking his aura completely and knocking him from the sparring field.

"J-Jaune w-wins!"

"Jaune…" The voice brought him from his mental musings.

It has been a month since he had returned to the past. Slowly acclimating to the time period, training and bonding stronger with his sisters and step-mother. His semblance was – as he assumed – locked along with his aura. Despite it all, he trained harder than ever before, catching the attention of the maids and butlers off the Arc family compound. Namely, the attention of his father.

"Yes, father?" Jaune looked up. "What did you need to see me for?"

The old grizzled man chuckled. "Since when could a father not speak with his son when he pleases?"

"Now I know you need something." The young boy's face faulted.

"You seventeenth birthday is coming." Claude smiled. "I'm certain you'll want something for your birthday."

The boy gave his father a confused look. "What?"

"What?"

Jaune looked at him with narrowed eyes, almost in disbelief of what he was hearing. Before he could ask what the ulterior motive was, the door behind the man opened revealing none other than Marie Arc, the new matriarch of the family. Her wolf tail danced behind her as she rested a soft hand on the Arc's shoulder. The wrinkles on her face, slowly growing as defined as Claude's. Her hair waved softly, dirty blonde and falling from the large bun she wore it in.

"Your father and I have been deeply impressed by how hard you're working to better yourself and physical condition." She smiled. "While, it was against our wishes to send you to Beacon or any Huntsman Academy you have even managed to best your sisters, Doré and Clair in hand-to-hand combat and live steel."

"You've impressed me beyond what I could have imagined." Claude nodded his head. "Now, let me ask you this, Jaune…do you want to still be a Huntsman? Or would you like to be something…greater?"

Oh, don't you dare. Jaune glared inwardly. Curious…if I never decided to fake my way into Beacon and leave…could this have been my future – being a King, nonetheless?

"What do you mean?" The Arc stared at his father with a blank expression.

"What do you know of the Arc family?" He rose from his chair, pacing through the grand study.

"We're an old family name in Vale; lost some territory and prestige in recent years but we are still prominent in Valean politics…hell, you're a councilman."

"Exactly." Claude turned to face the boy. "Politics in Vale and the Four Kingdoms of Remnant are slowly growing more tense as the days burn away. Eighty Years ago, the Great War was ended by the last King of Vale."

"I know this part – he died without any heirs after building the Huntsman Academies and bringing peace to Remnant." Jaune finished. "What does this have to do with the Valean Council?"

"There are a few very famous and powerful families in Vale – ours included – that hold seats on the Valean Council." Claude turned back to pace his study. "Among the families, there are two – the Arcs and the Winchesters."

Winchester?! He hid his surprise well; Marie couldn't even smell the sudden rush of chemicals to his brain.

"Eighty years ago, the House of Arc and House of Winchester were fiercely loyal to the King of Vale. Each had a special relationship to the King, right and left hand of the monarch, respectively." Claude continued. "Depending on who you ask, the King last edict before he died, named Croco Winchester and his House as the new royal line for as long as they have sons. Now if you ask any of our allies and if my father was still here; he'd tell you, Joan Arc – the sister of Jon Arc, your Great-Great-Grandfather – was the secret wife and lover of the last King. Her family line died, moving on to her brother's line – our line."

"Y-You're telling me…" Jaune trailed off. "That I'm a prince?!"

"I'm saying that you could be a prince." Claude corrected. "Be a Huntsman or be the Prince Vale deserves."

"You will have to make this decision."

So, Jaune's birth mom died giving birth to him and Dore and Clair

his two toddler siblings are little half Faunus couple I randomly thought up

Marie is derived from the Heberew word for sea.

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Ja ne!

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