Empires inevitably fall, and when they do, history judges them for the legacies they leave behind.

~Noah Feldman

The blast rocked the house to its very foundations, as though it were made of matchsticks. Jaune was jerked awake by the violent shuddering as it flung him from his bed and to the floor, where he lay for a dazed moment, confused and frightened and only half aware what was going on.

Then the sirens began to wail as the boom of a second explosion rumbled the ground, and the glass in the windows shattered into a million pieces. Jaune covered his head with his arms as he was rained on by the shards, but the pain of the countless tiny scratches caused by the sharp glass was immediately forgotten as the terror of realization flooded through him body. The earthquake, explosions, and the screaming sirens could only mean one thing.

The Grimm were attacking.

Before the tremors of that second explosion had even subsided, he could hear the apocalyptic symphony; people screaming, the guttural roars and growls of the dreaded Grimm, the terrifying sound of gunfire and desperate fighting, but despite being petrified by the sounds of inevitable death, Jaune scrambled up to look out of him window at the devastation below.

The Grimm were everywhere; their huge black bodies swarming so thickly in the grey morning light that it looked like the morning fog had suddenly risen up and spawned the hideous spectres from itself. Transfixed Jaune could only watch in horror as the monsters trampled the humans fleeing before them, cutting them down without thought or mercy.

Hands suddenly closed on Jaune's shirt and drew him away from the window, and the shriek that almost burst from the boy's lips was silenced as he saw his little sisters. Whatever comfort they sought with him was lost however as his face was bloodless pale and drawn with a terrible mixture of fear and resignation, his eyes were huge with dread and the whites were frighteningly obvious.

Rouge, Violet, and Noir all stared up at him with fright plain across their expressions. He gulped, realizing that as the oldest, he was the voice of authority here.

"Get your things." he whispered in a low, urgent voice, "Get into your little cubby and stay there."

Like a snapping of fingers, the three little girls shot off. Jaune stayed a bit, watching them all pulling on socks and boots, sweaters and jeans over their little pyjamas. Noir was the one who dragged out the knapsacks while Violet was the one to help slip them all on. Violet, the youngest, could only be rushed around and helped.

When they were all dressed, Jaune walked them all over to the cabinet in their parent's master bedroom. He managed to slowly but surely push it aside and stuck his fingers into a tiny hole that he used to swing the wall out, revealing a cubby that could comfortably fit two people. Jaune ushered them all in, trying his best to whisper soothing words and gave each of them a hug before stating how proud he was of all of them as they all crawled into the now cramped space.

"Don't make a sound now," he said in a soft but firm voice. Then he smiled, and the expression was tight and strained with pain and fear and sadness. "I love you guys. Don't ever forget that."

The goodbye was clear in his voice, and Jaune could see alarm and panic rise within them as they subconsciously understood what was happening even as he said it.

"Big brother?" "Jaune?" "Jaune?!"

"Goodbye." And before they could do anything, the cubby door was closed, and he replaced the cabinet in front of it.

"JAUNE!"

Jaune could hear small fists hammering on the inside of the door, screaming and crying his name over and over again, despite his instructions to stay quiet. But even as they called and called, Jaune knew that he would never see them again.

Downstairs, the front door exploded in a shower of splintered wood.

Jaune immediately fell silent as the pure terror robbed him of his voice, and his whole body became rigid with fright as he felt the floor beneath him vibrate with heavy thumps pounding as the a Grimm stomped into the house.

The little Arc sniffled, wiping away his tears before he breathed in deeply and felt his fists tighten.

"A man always protects his family."

The stern but loving voice of his father came unbridled into his conscious, and Jaune felt a cold relief settle into his veins as he calmly stalked over to the wall where his father had placed the family heirloom, Crocea Mors. The sword was taken care of and shone in the dull light. Jaune stood up on his toes and managed to wrestle the blade down without injuring himself. The boy then used the pommel to smash the glass case directly below the hanging stand, grabbing the sheath and turning it into its shield form.

"Pain is temporary, glory is forever. Be mindful of what you choose to do with that heirloom."

He had trained before but with practice swords and shields made of wood. The real thing was quite heavier but the boy felt his resolve flood his body and he managed to right himself into a loose and basic stance. The boy calmly hefted the sword and shield and walked out of the room, mindful of the now silent cabinet. The weight was reassuring, as was the history his father last imparted on his fabled great grandfather who wielded the weapon before his father and now him.

"Alexander Arc was a warrior of unmatched might on the field of battle. He was a giant of a man, built like an Greek god. But he had one weakness. His wife and daughter. A man of great strength will always be needed elsewhere and in the end, what the blades of the men he slew on the battlefield could not do, the knives of assassins accomplished. His heart had been sundered. Your great grandfather will forever be known to the world as the father who failed to save his wife and almost failed to save his daughter. To himself, he was the husband who wasn't able to save his wife and almost was unable to save his daughter. The former is seen as failure while the latter makes him a monster. His daughter never did forgive him for his dereliction of duty as a husband but the self loathing he inflicted upon himself never measured to her hatred of him."

He walked past the doors of his sisters, both younger and older. He walked past the door of his own room, not pausing once or looking into it. He walked past it all and down the stairs into the main living room and met the ferocious red eyed demon at the bottom with a stiff upper lip and his own determined stare.

"Remember boy, always protect what is important to you."

"Well? What are you waiting for?"

The Alpha Beowulf snarled and leapt at him.