And thus, it ends.
My very first fanfic, which began as some form of shitpost, but ended up developing into a sort of writing exercise.
This fic became a playground for various kinds of scenes and its very own, somewhat slapped together, plot. And yet, you guys enjoyed it.
I will be the first to admit that the ending was rushed as hell, but, as I stated earlier, it happened because I was running out of stuff for it.
Still, this isn't all that bad for my first work, hm?
One last time, at least for this fic, I ask you to
Enjoy!
For want of a knight
Chapter 33: once more with feeling
Mercury Black had faced his own father, a seasoned assassin. He killed him, at the cost of legs and Semblance, and fought his way back to life. He had to fight his whole life and became hardened to what the world threw at him.
And yet, here and now, he was scared shitless.
Naked as the day he was born, lying in a bed that wasn't his, his lower body covered up by a few sheets, he nervously stared up at a rather miffed looking Jaune.
"My sister," the blonde growled at him. Yup, Merc, having never had friends before, unknowingly broke the Bro Code and slept with Jaune's sister. On the same day they met, no less, having been discovered like this the morning after by her mother.
Which summoned the brother who was now glaring daggers at Merc. He shouldn't feel scared, and yet…
"My. Sister."
"Sorry." The silver-haired youth winced at the tone the other took. Dude was mad, and rightfully so.
"Sorry doesn't cut it. My twin, no less!" Yup, Blondie was really mad. "What even…"
"Look, it kind of just happened, okay?" It was a weak excuse, which earned him a withering glare. "I didn't want to go that fast, honest! I knew it would be bad news if I did, but…"
"But?" Jaune's patience was straining. Mercury, seeing how his time was running out, took a deep breath before unleashing what he thought of Bleu Arc.
"She is an angel, sent by Monty Oum above and gracing the world with her presence! I could bask in her beauty all fucking day and would be happy to be fucking alive! She is beauty and grace! My ideal woman!"
That had left him panting slightly. The brother whose sister he so worshipped lessened his intense gaze a little.
"The problem is," he grumbled as he rubbed his face in aggravation. "I know for a fact that you are exactly her type."
"Yes!" He cheered before shrinking back a little.
"Should I be concerned that your ideal woman so happens to be my twin?"
Thinking about that, it did have some implications, Mercury found. Though his answer was a definitive "no."
Perhaps in a universe where he was a girl...Merc shook his head. That way lay madness.
Jaune stared at him, expression having become unreadable.
Did Mercury mention that he was nervous?
"Why aren't you getting up?"
The bedridden man blanched considerably. He would have rather avoided that topic.
"I can't move my legs," he said, truthfully, but avoiding the core issue.
Jaune didn't quite seem to buy it. "Your mechanical legs, which you described as a technological marvel?"
"You know I'm prone to bragging!"
"Uh huh." The blonde grabbed the leg hidden beneath the sheets without remorse. Mercury knew what was going to happen next and braced for an impact.
Jaune pulled.
The entire leg was held in his hand, pulled up by the ankle, and dangled as limp as machinery can be in his grip. The limb had been broken off at the part connected to Merc's hips.
Jaune's jaw slackened, horror and disbelief creeping onto his face, as his eyes trailed the severed limb up and down. Wide blue eyes then rested back onto Merc's face.
"They came off," he helpfully added. Mercury was certain that he would be murdered if he mentioned that Bleu rode his dick hard enough for both his legs to snap off. Still, the ex-assassin would maintain that it was worth it.
Jaune merely dropped the metal appendage back onto the bed, rubbing his eyes like he had a headache. He most likely had; Mercury was certain of it.
"Hurt her and I'll end you."
"That's fair." It really was. The blonde strode out the door, but stopped right inside the frame.
"One more thing," he called back.
"Yeah?"
"Welcome to the family."
"...thanks, man."
Relief flooded every fiber of Merc's still functioning body parts. It did not include his dick for now, as it was sore as all hell.
'I maintain, worth it.'
Dustmas time was family time, and the Arc family was the biggest of all. The huge house of the ten-head family was bustling with a variety of guests for a great feast.
Among all this, Jaune came down the stairs, with a face like he had bitten into a sour grape. Bleu Arc, his bespectacled twin, was already waiting anxiously.
"And?!" she demanded. "What did he say? Is he still alive?"
Jaune threw her a look full of judgement, before sighing in his own defeat. "Yes, he is still alive, and he basically said that he wants to be serious with you."
"Yes!" the girl in glasses cheered before shrinking a little under the various gazes of Jaune's girlfriends. It had been weeks since all calmed down and, while the Vytal Tournament ended up cancelled, no one was really broken up about it.
"Cinder," Bleu called to the kitchen. "Is some of the meat ready? I want to take a spread up to Mercury!"
"Can't he come down himself?" Reese asked incredulously. Her answer came in the haunted voice of her boyfriend.
"Nope."
Bleu winced. "I kind of broke his legs off last night."
That caused gales of laughter, along with a distraught blonde seeking comfort in Ren's arms. Nora clung to the two men, laughing happily along.
"Come over here!" the cook demanded. Turns out she was quite good at any cooking involving an open flame. "I have some cuts of meat here. Quick, before they cool off!" She was also as fierce at this as Jaune could be.
Her failure at boiling water gnawed at her, still.
"Come on, Bleu!"
"Coming!" she yelled, inadvertently making her brother cuddle a little harder, to forget the pain. Quickly she scooped up a nice little plate full of morsels to feed her boyfriend, the Arc woman ran back up the stairs with a smile on her face.
Observing this spectacle were the two most ancient among the guests. Literally, their overall ages made those around them look like babies.
Salem and Ozpin had reconciled, somewhat. While they maintained a good distance from one another, sitting on their couch, they were back on somewhat good terms again. It had taken a lot, however. An intervention that included glue, some baby photos that embarrassed every single one of the Arc children and a grown man hugging the two tightly to stop fighting - John was quite the hugger - but they managed.
"It is strange, don't you think?"
"What, exactly?" Salem replied with a question of her own, watching as the hustle and bustle continued. Neo was fighting fiercely for ice cream instead of salad, which both Pyrrha and Velvet fought against. They took it all easy on one another, though, since their pregnancies were confirmed fairly recently.
"All of this, of course," the headmaster chuckled. "I never thought this possible, not after what happened."
The witch sighed, remembering that dark day. Actual couples therapy, exercised by the gaggle of people surrounding them now, helped the two overcome their differences. They both even dared to admit, at the end, that this situation was both their faults.
Salem had let her grief rule her actions, dooming the first iteration of humanity. Then, feeling betrayed by her husband, lashed out, causing their shared tragedy.
Ozpin, as Ozma, had seen no choice other than absconding with their daughters, when he could have still talked some sense into her. They were married, and a couple should be able to talk to one another.
But because of no talk at all, their daughters died.
"True," Salem admitted with a smile directed at the surprised girls playing with little Adrian. The tiny tyke was being spoiled by five women at once. "And I did never think that this was all it took to lift our curse."
Indeed, finding family again fulfilled the requirement of the curse of immortality being lifted. Salem had realized the importance of death through the Grimm she commanded, and the conquest she ultimately abandoned. Returning to the warmth that family provided had shown her what value lay in life, fleeting as it was.
All must die eventually, if only to make place for something new. Grieve not for those who died, but be happy that they were there in the first place. That was the way it was all summed up by Blake, who had paraphrased a book she read and found it quite accurate.
No one could agree any more than that. Thus, the now mortal witch and her ex dared to live their final lives surrounded by the family they found and, inadvertently, pushed together.
"Hey, um, Salem?" Dew sat down close to the two proud grandparents, alongside May and Arslan. "We were asking ourselves some questions, and-"
The pale woman smiled at the three. "I will gladly help you through your pregnancies."
"Not that!" yelped may, growing red. "I mean, not yet, but…"
"So, about you," Ars took over. "We thought about if you had some sort of, y'know, and evil cabal of evil or something."
The woman tittered at her wording. "I had no 'evil cabal of evil', child. Though I did have a circle."
"Now I am growing curious as well," Ozpin piped up, grabbing his mug off the coffee table set before him to take a sip. "What happened to them?"
"Oh, after I all but announced that I didn't want to play at becoming a goddess anymore, they all tried to do their own thing." She grabbed her own tea cup to take a sip. Chamomile, her favorite.
"Hazel Rainart went to Vacuo to join a monastery."
Ozpin spat his coffee back into his mug, staring ruefully at his brew before turning to her. The girls listening to her leaned forward. "What's he doing there?" Dew asked politely.
"Calming down, of course. He was so full of rage." The witch shook her head like a disappointed mother. "Though I am certain he will learn to thrive there. He has little else to live for." She sent a pointed look at her ex with that last sentence, who kept his trap shut.
"Anyhow, Arthur Watts attempted to run and sell his knowledge to his highest bidder."
"Ah, I actually know about that." The headmaster steepled his fingers, assuming his best schemer pose. "Ironwood was positively ecstatic upon finding him during a back-alley deal with some mobsters."
"And here I thought he had more class," the pale woman shrugged, making the girls laugh along nervously.
"Any others?" May asked, dreading the answer already.
"Oh, yes, Tyrian Callows." The casual mention of the serial killer made many still. "He comitted suicide."
A brief silence came over their corner, as the others still chattered. Ruby and Yang and Gwen were carrying some plates to place on the large table for the feast.
"Dark," Arslan succinctly summed up.
Ozpin added to it. "I didn't think he would take it that badly."
"Considering he lost his mind upon me saying that I would no longer be a goddess and attacked me, it was actually...what is the word?" Salem looked to the girls for help, who stared at her slack jawed, before May actually found her voice first.
"Suicide by cop?"
"Hm. Not quite, but I suppose." She rose, bidding the others to stand as well. "I believe the feast is-"
"Hey, everyone, food's ready!" Nora screamed. "Get a move on! Chop Chop!"
"You heard her!" Jaune added, making everyone hurry up and converge on the dinner table set up for this occasion. For it was a little bit more than Dustmas.
Sat at the head of the table, drawing the looks of his grinning guests, was John Arc, the 'birthday boy', as it were, complete with a party hat and grinning like an idiot.
As everyone finally sat down, some still threw Weiss dirty looks. She had won the lottery for having Adrian on her lap and was looking overjoyed.
Still, the attention, for the most part, rested on the man himself. He did not need many words.
"Thank you, everyone, for coming to this party." His voice boomed over the table with its festive and delicious spread of various meats and dishes. "Now let's enjoy this meal, everyone, and happy Dustmas!"
With his piece said, the PatriArc sat down, kissing his wife next to him, just as a storm of wishes thundered at him.
"Merry Dustmas!"
"Happy birthday...dad! Aaa, I said it!"
"He told us to call him that ages ago!"
"Still!"
It was a good day and, watching everyone make merry with one another made John incredibly happy. He spotted his son, almost beleaguered by those around him, trying to feed the desired blonde.
Well, his wife always wanted a huge family.
Several weeks ago, before Vytal, in the wilderness of Mistral…
Raven Branwen, the bandit chief, woke up with a horrible headache. She vaguely remembered bits and pieces of last night. Something, something, newspaper?
Shaking her head, the ravenette grumbled as she rose. Bleary red eyes looked around, then landed on something that should not be inside her quarters. Some pieces of machinery were lying there. Seeing these things there, the memories rushed back.
Raven had picked up a newspaper heralding the beginning of the Vytal Festival in Vale, attended by Professor Ozpin, a man she deeply detested. Furious, she had gotten dunk first, to try and not do something stupid.
Unfortunately, Raven tended to forget that drunk her was very stupid.
As a bird, she flew towards the damn Amity Arena and sabotaged the propulsion systems, tearing vital pieces out of the intricate machinery and, apparently, taking these with her.
Well shit. Looks like the tournament wouldn't be happening.
"Fuck you, Ozpin," Raven mumbled as she strapped Omen to her hip, beginning her day.
Finishing a fic is like finishing a work of art. This one started out clumsily, but eventually found its own style. Sure, I could add more, but it would muddy the overall picture.
Besides, everything must end eventually, if only for something new to come.
It's why we celebrate New Years.
Thank you all for reading and your support, and I'll see you in my other fics!