I found my self siting on the sidelines of the family's battle sands rows of training weapons stood in silent sentinel watching and seemingly waiting as the sands two current occupants. blanche stood a blunt short sword grasped between her small fingers, on the other side stood my father . I've been told that i'm a spiting image of my father at my age save for my hair witch I inherited from my mother, my father was a tower of a man dark coal hair ,his face once filled with youth now marked with the marks of years of being a huntsman. a light scar snaking its way up the left side of his face.
On his side rested the sword passed down in are family Crocea Mors, its gleaming white hilt only displaced by the yellow twin moon crest. A sword that passed down from his father to him a sword i was never going to wield a sword i was never allowed to hold. "why do we need to be here pops" a lazy voice boredly sang out beside me, Breena the only one of his sisters to inherited there fathers colouring short cut black hair with a fair helping of jell making it look she just walked out of a storm.
There father Alexander turned to Breena a slight frown played on his face he opened his mouth to answer her when his eyes fell on me. "Jaune why don't you see when supper is going to be ready?". a empty pit filled inside my stomach now i'm not able to even watch?, i silently nod when i feel a firm hand fall on mine I look up to see Breena grabbing me and all but dragging me away "Right! lets go do that Jauney better then watching this" her voice gaining some of its natural song bird like nature to it.
Dinner is a sober event it was only a few days since my "little trip" as Breena had dubbed it. My mother had made sure that one of my sisters was watching me all day long, never giving me a moment to my self unfortunately this meant i have to watch there training. Watching them do the one thing I want, thankfully Breena had been kind today deciding to take a "cheat day" and just be lazy though i had never been so thankfully for Breenas lazy streak. my sisters chanting filled the air of the dinning room conversations ranging from fashion to boys though the topic of infamy this week was blanche's training more over what weapon should she use.
I did my best to try to tune them out to forget the fact that i hated this, hated the fact i would never be able to share in this. "Jaune stop playing with your food honey" my mothers voice cut though my attempt at tuning out the topic of the day. "I'm not hungry can i go to my room" i wince my voice is still hollow, I see Blanche's look down into her lap, I had been depressed ever since her aura had been awakened... we haven't spoken since as well.
A slight frown danced over my mothers face though i could tell in her eyes she did understand my current depression "very well Jaune" a sigh filled voice. I was gone before she could say anything else, I lay in my bed trying to fight back the tears as i curl into my self wishing the world away. a dark humming fills my dusk filled room as a frost presence lays on my back as a ghostly feeling of a hand creeps up to my cheek. She didn't say anything though the presence seemed to revel in my self loathing.
Why why cant i be a hunter why did my father deicide that i'm unworthy of are family's legacy." why don't you show him?" a dark voice whispers into my ears into, I sit up stunned why didn't i think of that? for the first time in so long a smile breaks across my face i jump up pulling on my shoes and throwing on a winter coat. She was right i would just show dad that i could live up to the family name, I mean I had watched so much of my sisters training i could get my self started. I could show him I was made of the same stuff that all arc's were.
I found my self in the family war hall weapons passed down from all are ancestors. Each weapon a great saga, welded by a true hero and at the centre of this great display layed Crocea Mors the sword that was welded by the first arc said to be unbreakable. My small hands dust over the sword a slight vibration seemed to echo through the ancient blade at my touch. It was heaver then I had ever considers but with all the strength I could muster through my 7 year old muscles a chime singles the swords freedom from its hilt. I admire the gleaming pure white blade, the blade seemed to cut the faint glow filling the room. A sweeping of the blade through the air a faint trail giving off by the blades path.
It was hard not to admire the blade, now i understand why my father had said it was one of a kind the art of crafting such a blade lost to the annuls of time. As much as I admired the blade it felt wrong the blade didn't feel right ], it didn't site right in my hands. I shake of this feeling i'm just inexperienced is all ill grow into it in time. Now how to prove my self to father I frown trying to thing of a way to show him I was worthy to be is son.
I give the blade a few good swings as I do I find my self lurch loosing my footing to the unexpected weight. I fall forward the blade finds it way to the wall a sharp pang fills the room as the sword cuts into the stone wall like a knife through hot butter. I panic this was the opposite of what I had planed I had wanted to show father I could stand strong that I could live up to the arc legacy, not cut a hole through the house!
I pull on the sword desperate to put it back into its sheath hoping to just forget this horrible idea. To run back into my room and hide away in my bed hoping to disappear into the sheets darkness. The sword growns in opposition unwilling to give up its new home in the side of the house, I pull on the blade more desperately hopping to simply end this stupid little idea of mine. As i pull on the blade it grows once more though once more giving of a chiming sound as it explodes in a bright white flame, filling the room with burning blinding light.
I panic as the blade seems to become even more unruly, the unnatural flame seems to dance along the wall hungrly creeping out ward from the scared rock. my panic seems to catch in my through I want to scream for help for anyone even father, even with the fact that if I do I would lose eny chance to prove that I could be a huntsman.
I never get the chance as a hand wraps around the blade the light seems to break away from the blade attempting to flee from the offending appendage, before it seems to be hungerly eaten by the pale flesh. I shake as I look up afraid to see how had both saved me and doomed me, my mother. We dont share any words though the look plastered over her face tells me all I need to know I had lost my one and only chance. MY mother holds my hand as she takes me back to my room and puts me to bed, she stands there for a moment the darkness hiding her face though I sappouse I know the what she is thinking even if i dread her words, it feels like a life time before she shares her thoughts.
"I should have assumed you would try something like this adventuly ... i'm sorry this is hard for you Jaune." She takes a deep breath steeling her self "I don't ever want you to ever touch a weapon ever again, you will never be a huntsmen". Tears fill my eyes and this time a cant hold them back my mother reaches down to wipe my face but i turn away unable to look at her. After a while see leaves and i'm alone once more, alone in my sorrow... alone with the voice in the dark.