Just before anyone forgets, and if anyone is thinking to shout of OOC characters, this is 2 years before canon. This is before Weiss fights the knight in the prologue and gets her scar, and thus before she even broaches the idea of Beacon with her father and is challenged to face it. At this point she's training to be a huntress, but Jacques likely assumes it's a phase or, if not, he's expecting her to attend Atlas, graduate there and basically moonlight as a huntress while still learning about the SDC, etc. It's the same for some other characters you'll see here, who will act slightly different to how they do in the show, and even how they will later in this same story, because they still have another two years of growing up and being a teenager to go through and face the challenges they face. You'll know who I mean when you get to them.


Cover Art: GWBrex

Chapter 7


Jaune had been to birthday parties before. Of course he had. His parents called him shy and his sisters often teased of how bad he was talking to girls, but it wasn't like he'd never had a friend in his life. He'd been to plenty of parties around Ansel, including his own and each of his sisters', and he thought he had a good grasp of the different ways they could be held.

There were the quiet ones where you went out for dinner with family and opened gifts; there were the children's ones like Amber's, and his own when he'd been younger, which would involve presents, clowns and maybe a bouncy castle; there were the disco ones where they'd rent the village hall for an evening, bring out party food and dance; then there were the summer ones with paddling pools, ice-cream and water-gun fights. Which it ended up being usually depended on when the birthday was, who it was and what kinds of things they liked. Also, age. Jaune had realised soon on that his sisters' birthday parties got more boring the older they got. At least from his perspective.

Weiss Schnee's fifteenth birthday party was a thing of wonder.

As in, he was left wondering how they had fit an entire carousel – an actual fairground merry-go-round - inside a home and why they would; wondering why a girl her age had an entire classical orchestra on a raised stage or why he and most every other guest had to go out and be fitted for a suit rental to come to a birthday party. Jaune tugged at his white collar, wishing he could loosen it a little. He hadn't felt this stuffy since Saphron's wedding, but at least that was a big ceremony and everyone was meant to look formal for it. Weren't birthday parties supposed to be more casual?

"Mr Arc and Mr Ironwood. Welcome." The man at the door was dressed in grey trousers, a white shirt and a pale blue waistcoat, and he ticked their names off a list before bowing from the waist. He looked more suited for a fancy restaurant than a party, though the absolutely huge mansion they'd arrived at with numerous limousines parked outside meant it was more exclusive than one. "Please enjoy your evening."

"Thank you." Ironwood said pleasantly and placed a hand on Jaune's back to steer him inside. He, too, wore a suit today, charcoal grey instead of the usual white of his uniform. He looked big and authoritative in it in a way Jaune wished he could emulate. "Come along, Jaune," he said, "Let's take the gift to the main table."

The table, as Ironwood put it, couldn't have been missed. It was a long thing that could have sat some twenty people at it, but which instead was straining under the weight of what had to be over a hundred wrapped gifts of various shapes and sizes. Some of them were quite frankly huge – bigger than he was. There was a horse beside it, an actual live and casual horse just stood there eating from a bucket with bows woven into its hair and a rather lazy, even bored, look in its eyes. A man stood beside it holding the reins while young children, some much younger than he, crowded around the front to pet and touch it.

Jaune walked up and gingerly set the small box down among many, many others, thinking for a moment how all his panic and nerves about what to buy her probably wouldn't amount to anything, because there was just no way she'd be able to pick his out from all this. To be fair, everyone had told him that no one expected him to know what a girl he'd never met in his life would want. The gift was more symbolic than anything. He'd canvassed his sisters anyway. What was the point of having seven if you couldn't ask them for advice on what to get a girl? If they hadn't been there to tell him no, he'd have bought an expensive makeup set or something equally stereotypical. He'd bought her some books. Books on advanced huntress theory and training, which, Ironwood had assured him, the birthday girl would appreciate a lot more than most other things, and which also wouldn't be too `weird` for a complete stranger to gift her.

"Would the sirs care for a snack?"

Jaune turned to see a butler offering a tray to Ironwood, upon which lay a selection of incredibly small… things. They looked like a tiny swirl of whipped cream atop a base of biscuit, with a single tiny spring onion ring atop, exactly four granules of peppercorn and a dusting of white powder. Ironwood took one and Jaune accepted one gingerly himself just to be polite. The butler swirled away soon after, approaching another pair of parents with a young girl to offer the same. Jaune looked at his, sniffing at it and then leaning back. Rather than whipped cream, it smelled of meat. "What is this?"

"I have no idea." Ironwood admitted, then popped it into his mouth and ate. "I wouldn't waste time trying to understand the palates of the rich and famous, Jaune. Just reading the meals of the menu is enough to give you a headache. It tastes good and that's all that matters."

It did in fact. Creamy, crunchy and, as he'd thought, a little meaty. It might have been pate. It was so small, though, little more than a single bite and then gone. He almost wanted to call the man back, take the whole tray and eat them instead. His whole family had been invited to the party but, after some discussion, had decided to stay back. It was mom and dad's wedding anniversary, while the girls just weren't interested in coming as secondary to his importance. They were ordering in pizza and having a girl's night in, to which he was not invited. Ironwood had agreed to come along with him instead, both as guard and chaperone and, in Jaune's eyes, to make sure he didn't make any stupid or embarrassing mistakes.

"Is that a go-kart track!?"

"It wouldn't surprise me. Jacques spares little expense for events like this."

Ironwood followed Jaune over, through the crowds of talking parents who were sticking mostly to the buffet area and the open bar while the children occupied the other parts. Through a doorway, a large hall that might have once been a dining hall had all its furniture pushed to the walls. In the middle, a track had been created using stacked tyres painted red and white, and honest-to-goodness go-karts buzzed their way slowly around it, bumping into one another, the tyres and spinning out of control while people laughed.

Go-karts in a house. He'd seen everything now. Except that he'd seen nothing, because there was a magician over at a booth making cards disappear and pulling a rabbit from a hat, an elephant with its handler not too far away and the classical band were wrapping up on the stage, and now being replaced with a boyband that Jaune recognised from a poster on Lavender's wall back in Ansel. And oh man, she was going to be horrified when she realised they were here and performing and she'd given up the chance to come.

"How much does this all cost?"

"Millions." Ironwood answered easily. "Several at the least. When you have as much money as the Schnee family does, events like this become less about celebrating something and more about showing off." Ironwood's voice dipped. "And here he comes." He turned, frown replaced with a warm – and completely fake – smile. "Jacques. Good to see you."

"General Ironwood." Councilman Jacques Schnee wore a crisp suit in pale blue today with a sparkling snowflake made of glinting gemstones attached to his pocket. He strode forward with a flute of champagne in one hand and offered his other to be shaken. "I'm glad you could make it. And Mr Arc. Welcome to my home. I hope you're feeling well tonight."

Jaune took the man's hand and gave it a shake. "Thank you for having me," he said politely. It was a phrase his mom had burned into his head at a young age, always to be given to the parents of your friend when they offered to let you stay over. "You have an amazing home," he added, just because it felt right. And accurate. The Schnee mansion was impressive.

"Thank you! Thank you! The design was by Arnold Pieto himself, a famous designer who- Ah, but you're not interested in old architects. You're here for the party. How are you? Have you been here long?"

"We just arrived." Ironwood said.

"Excellent. I'd like to introduce you to my wife." He looked around and Jaune felt a little awkward by the silence that followed. "If she could be found. I'm sure she's enjoying herself somewhere." Jacques recovered quickly. "Come let me introduce you to my son," he said. "Whitley has been just dying to meet you. Whitley!" he called.

"I'm here, father." A boy who couldn't have been older than fourteen, and who might have been younger, approached quickly but without running. He was dressed like his father and looked like him too but for the absent moustache.

"There you are. Mr Arc, meet my son, Whitley. Whitley, this is Jaune Arc. I'm sure you've heard of him."

"I have." Whitley offered a hand that Jaune took and shook awkwardly. "A pleasure to meet you. I've heard a lot about what you've been doing in Atlas. Are you finding the city pleasant?"

It was strange hearing a person younger than him speak like they were older. It at least helped Whitley not seem so immature, but then it made Jaune feel stupider, like he was a child trying to talk to an adult, even if he was sure Whitley was putting it on. Small talk had never been his forte, let alone small talk with someone like this.

"Uh. I've not had a lot of time to look around yet."

"Atlas is keeping you busy, is it?"

"Something like that," he admitted. "I'm trying to do better now and visit the city a bit, but it's hard to find time between everything else."

"A constant problem for the busy among us." Jacques said. "I struggle to find free time myself, and I'm sure the good general is no different in that regard." He waited for Ironwood to grunt and nod. "Why don't we leave the two of them to it?" Jacques suggested. "Whitley, you wouldn't mind showing Jaune around, would you? He's new here, so you can introduce him to a few people. It would do him well to make some friends."

Whitley smiled. "Of course, father."

Ironwood gave Jaune a quick look, one that seemed to ask if he wanted the man to step in and turn the idea down. He was tempted, but the only reason for that was because he felt anxious about having to talk to new people and didn't know what kind of person Whitley was. That didn't feel like a good enough reason to force Ironwood to look after him, so he shook his head. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad with Whitley showing him around. That way he wouldn't have to approach people himself and try to introduce himself.

To his relief, Whitley was as good as his word and filled the silence with chatter as they walked away from Ironwood and Mr Schnee, and toward the carousel. There were a lot more people their age there, some younger and some older, and the butlers and maids carrying around drinks offered cordial and fizzy pop rather than champagne and wine.

"-our family always hosts the biggest events in Atlas," Whitley boasted, "but this one is a little bigger than usual. It's not always so crowded."

"Is that because of me?" Jaune asked.

"Probably." Whitley admitted after a short pause. Jaune was grateful that he did. "Does that bother you?"

"It's strange."

"You get used to it. The best thing to do is just smile, nod when you need to and try to enjoy yourself. Let the adults do their thing and have what fun you can." Whitley smiled and added, "Just because they want to make this about them doesn't mean we have to. What do you want to do?"

The question surprised him. "What?"

"For fun."

"Didn't Mr Schnee say you had to introduce me to people?"

"Do you want to be introduced to them?"

Jaune shrugged. "No, but-"

"Then let's not." Whitley said. "Do you want to try the go-karts?"

Jaune looked over. It did look like fun, but he was supposed to be doing his job as part of Atlas and talk with people, wasn't he? The whole point of him being here was to show him off to people. He didn't want to upset Ironwood or Mr Schnee when he'd been invited here. "I guess that'd be cool."

"Come on." Whitley said. He started walking, leaving Jaune no choice but to follow. "

There were cars enough for them to be settled in rather quickly by the people working there, who Jaune guessed were hired to bring their equipment. They looked tired but also happy – they were probably being paid a lot for this. Jaune and Whitley were given a kart each, then briefly told how to use them and given a warning not to aggressively crash into others if they could help it, and to not try and climb out unless they were back at the start and someone came to help them out. From there, they were soon off.

Jaune went slowly at first, at least until Whitley powered on the pedal and shot ahead, skidding round the corner with a loud screech that Jaune just knew the floor wouldn't appreciate. Sure enough, he'd left big, black marks across the marble, not that he seemed to care. No one else did either, buzzing past and around him as they went around the track. By the end of the first lap, Jaune's confidence had grown enough to try himself, and while it was a little scary moving so fast when you were so low to the ground, it was fun. He even lapped Whitley, who had crashed nose first into the tyre wall and was being forcefully reversed by two men pushing his kart back. He was soon off again, and he didn't look all that upset by the collision. He was laughing when they climbed out ten minutes later, and Jaune was surprised to find that he was as well. He'd had fun.

"Did you see that mark I left?"

"Wait, you did that on purpose?" Jaune hissed. "Won't you get in trouble?"

"What for? It's my floor. Besides, it was father's idea to put a go-kart track in here. He should expect the floor to have tracks on it. It'll clean out." He shrugged. "Or the whole floor will be replaced. Whichever he decides is quicker."

He'd have been yelled at if he made a mess like that inside, but that was back before Atlas and he'd never been this fabulously rich. I guess if you put this inside, you expect there'll be a mess. It still felt crazy for Whitley to do it on purpose, but it didn't harm anyone. Mostly. "Won't someone have to clean it tomorrow?"

"The staff work the same hours anyway. Cleaning is what they're paid to do."

"Yeah, but you're giving them more work."

"Exactly." Whitley grinned. "And they get paid more. Win-win, right?"

He supposed it was. No one here seemed to mind and everything would have to be cleaned after an event like this anyway. Maybe he was making a meal out of nothing. Whitley obviously knew more about what was and what wasn't acceptable at an event like this.

"I probably should introduce you to some people," he said. "Just in case I'm asked later. Come on. I can warn you away from the clingers-on and the people who just want to talk to you because you're famous."

"Is it that obvious?"

"They've been trying the same with me for years for my money. Or my father's," he added. "It's easier to make friends with people who are as rich and famous as you are. I think it's why so many movie stars marry other movie stars."

"I always thought that was just because they spent more time together."

"It might be, but you've seen it yourself. Right? People acting different around you because of who you are."

He had. It wasn't always bad – the autograph signing session at the comic store had gone viral online, and most everyone was talking positively about it. Still, it was hard to imagine those people as real friends when they couldn't talk to him normally. Whitley didn't have the same problem. He's as famous as I am because of who his father is. I guess he finds it hard to make real friends as well.

"Maybe you're right." Jaune said. "It just sounds… wrong."

"I don't make the rules. I just deal with people I thought were friends getting angry when they don't get thousands of lien worth of birthday presents just because my dad is rich. At least I know you won't do that." He nodded to the crowd of young men and women. "Some of them will. Least I can do is show you who are the good ones."

"Does that go for the adults too?"

"Doubly so for them!" Whitley insisted. "Rule of thumb; don't trust anyone who mentions elections, politics or their campaign. Also, don't agree to anything. I once told a Councilmember I thought their idea sounded good and they mentioned on television next week that a prominent member of the Schnee family had given their support."

"Yikes. Did you get in trouble?"

"Dad was annoyed at the person more than me. I got remedial political lessons." Judging from the grimace on Whitley's face, that was an effective punishment all the same. "If anyone tries, just tell them you're here for the birthday party and you're tired from being at the hospital. Then they'll be in the wrong if they try and push you. Also, learn to judge smiles. If a person smiles too much on seeing you, they probably want something from you. Real smiles are smaller. Polite."

It was all such nonsense, yet Whitley said it so seriously, and Jaune wasn't sure how much he was meant to take it seriously. Completely seriously by the sounds of it. Would people really try and use him that much? Sadly, he knew the answer even now. Every hand he shook had the potential to borrow a little of his popularity. Just the fact he was invited here at all was probably a big win for Whitley's family. "How do you know all this?" Jaune asked tiredly. "Is there a training course I should be signing up to or something?"

"People will say it's just a case of using your common sense." Whitley scoffed. "It's not. Especially when you're eleven and an actual politician is using your words against you like it's a televised debate. You should ask Ironwood, or I can tell you more later. We should swap numbers. A lot of it, you just learn from people trying it on you. Don't worry," he said. "I'll cover for you tonight."

/-/

To Jaune's immense relief, Whitley kept his promise. He was brought to small groups of people his age and given names, a brief descriptor and then Whitley allowed them a small chance to talk before ushering him on, usually when it was clear the person was asking too many things or starting to get too interested. He hadn't run into any of the hardcore manipulation Whitley had mentioned, but maybe that was because this was a party for children and it would have looked weird for an adult to corner them. Most of the older people were sticking together and talking on the adult side of the hall where the bar and drinks were. What was most impressive was how fast Whitley noticed when someone was starting to take too much of an interest, and how quick he was to act on that. When Jaune asked, his new friend had an immediate answer.

"My eldest sister, Winter, used to do the same for Weiss and I."

That was all. It was hard to remember at times that he hadn't always been the most important person in the room. Once upon a time it was Whitley who was approached by people looking to use him for his family connections, and the boy had learned how to detect and evade those attempts. Something Jaune had yet to master.

"You'll learn." Whitley said. "The key thing is to always have an excuse ready. That way you can leave as soon as things get weird without offending anyone. I use father for mine. Everyone knows how busy he is, so when I say he's expecting me they assume I'm being demanded to attend some business event. Then I hide."

Jaune snorted. "I'm not sure I could get away with that."

"Try it. Just say that Ironwood gave you orders to talk to as many people as possible."

"And people will believe that?"

"No one has any idea what the most important person in the world has to do. If you say you have to speak with every single person here, they'll believe it."

"I'm not that important." Jaune said. The worst part was not being sure even as he said it. People certainly acted like he was. It wasn't too bad here – better than he expected, in fact. Everyone was very eager to talk to him, but not so eager that they were falling over themselves. He figured it was because they were all used to having well-known or famous family members, or just because it would be too `pedestrian` to act out that way. "I'm surprised I haven't met your sister yet. Isn't it her birthday?"

"Weiss is going to sing later and won't be seen until then."

"She's a singer?"

"Quite famous for it." Whitley said. "Not famous enough to reach all the way to Ansel obviously," he added with a little laugh. Jaune got the feeling the news had pleased him somehow. "Father doesn't waste any opportunity to parade her in front of people, especially for charity events like this. My sister is probably being set up with microphones and offered a last rehearsal before coming out. I'm sure Weiss will deign to come speak to us mortals eventually. Ah, here's someone. Hello there!"

The girl they approached turned to look their way. She was as tall as he was, towering a foot above Whitley at least, with blood red hair and large, round green eyes that were at the moment wide, caught with a small slice of cake from the buffet between her lips. Pretty, Jaune thought, before the girl coughed and turned half away to swallow her cake. "H-Hello," she coughed. "I'm sorry for that. I was hungry."

"It's what the buffet is for." Whitley said in a magnanimous voice. "I'm showing my friend here around. Introducing him to people."

"Hello," the girl said again, smiling politely, if a little tiredly. "Pyrrha Nikos." She offered her hand in a way that made it clear she'd had to do this several times tonight already, and only then looked at him. "And you're-?"

He saw the moment of realisation. It came in a brief widening of the eyes followed by another, racking cough and a light spray of crumbs from her lips. The hand was retracted, rudely at first, before she quickly gathered herself, stood taller and offered it again. This time, the smile both looked and felt genuine.

"Jaune, right? You're Jaune Arc?"

"That's me…" Jaune said helplessly. He preferred the genuine smile, but the fact it came after seeing who he was detracted from it. "And you're Pyrrha."

"Pyrrha Nikos." The girl smiled for a moment. It faltered after a few seconds of silence. Not enough for her to look unhappy, more… bemused. "From Mistral," she added. When that yielded nothing, she said, "The tournaments?"

"Jaune has been kept a little busy in the last few months and hasn't had much time to watch TV." Whitley interjected himself between them, took Pyrrha's hand and shook it himself. Jaune was grateful for the quick rescue. "You'll have to forgive him."

"Oh. Oh, no. I didn't mean-" Pyrrha floundered for a moment. "I'm sorry," she said, and the genuine smile was back, if a little guilty. "I heard about everything. Um. About Ansel and what happened to you. I'm sorry for that. It sounded terrible."

Home. Dr White. Jaune closed his eyes. "It was."

Thank you for reminding me of it.

"Pyrrha is the two-times winner of the Mistral Regional Tournament," Whitley explained. Jaune wasn't sure if he did so because he thought Jaune wanted to know, or if it wasn't to change the subject. If it was the latter, he owed his new friend. "It took place only a month ago, which is why you were probably too busy to pay attention. There are even rumours she'll have a fair chance at making it three consecutive wins next year. That'll be a world first."

"That's pretty cool." Jaune said. It was, and he meant it. "I'm sorry I missed it."

"Thank you!" Pyrrha's smile grew. "And you're probably one of the busiest people around, so I'm not surprised. I'm hoping I'll manage the three wins, but there's always a lot of competition and it was a close call this year."

"I saw your fight." Whitley said. "It didn't look all that close to me."

"Ah. Well…" Pyrrha fidgeted a little.

"Whitley," Jaune chided and elbowed his side. "She's being polite."

"Oh, I know, but false modesty is as good as insulting her opponents," Whitley replied with a sly smile. "I can show you a recording of it another time if you like. I might ask father if we can attend next year. Maybe you and your family could come along."

That sounded fun. "Yeah. Maybe."

"It'd be great to see you all there." Pyrrha said cheerfully. "I'm sure I could get you some tickets if I asked my agent."

Jaune almost laughed. Mistral would probably bend over backwards to have him visit. He'd already been told it might happen, and that it was apparently a big deal as far as the council were concerned. He didn't much mind when Ironwood warned him. It was kind of their choice how to use him; that was the deal they'd all agreed on. If Atlas wanted to send him to Mistral for a week, he'd go. It was funny how Pyrrha made it sound like she could get them tickets though, as if he needed her help getting them at all. Funny, and maybe even a little encouraging. She didn't feel like someone who was talking to them just because of who he was. Oh, she knew and she was interested, but he'd pretty much resigned himself to accepting that as a matter of course. Putting Whitley's advice into practice, she felt like someone who wasn't after anything. The fact that Whitley hadn't intervened to draw them away reinforced it.

"I'll have to see when I have time." Jaune said after a long moment. "I don't really get to decide my own timetable anymore."

"Me neither." Pyrrha said with a laugh and a wave. "I just got some applause and a few interviews after the first tournament win, but now I've won two in a row I can't get any rest." She giggled. "Now it's bouncing from one event to the next, answering questions, doing interviews. It's all so crazy."

"Exciting, though?" Whitley asked.

"Oh yes!" Pyrrha bounced on her heels. "I've got to see so many places and meet so many people, and I love it when I meet people I've inspired to try and become huntresses. It's busy, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. Even if sometimes it's a little silly at times. Next week, I have to meet someone about them wanting to put my face on a cereal."

"They want to put mine on an energy drink." Jaune said.

"Really?"

"Yeah." He sighed. "With a stupid slogan, too."

"What is it?" Whitley asked, curious.

"It's bad."

He grinned. "You're not making me not want to hear it."

"I warned you. Ahem. I can't bring myself back from the dead, but when I'm feeling close, I turn to `RAISE Energy Drink`." Jaune brought an empty hand up and chugged. "Bringing me back from the brink of death, so that I can bring your family back."

Pyrrha looked horrified.

Whitley snorted into his hand.

"That's awful!" Pyrrha gasped.

"That's- ack!" Whitley slammed a hand to his chest. "That's brilliant. Brilliantly bad," he clarified when Pyrrha looked positively aghast. "Oh wow, that's the kind of marketing campaign that comes fresh with its own controversy. I take it you turned it down."

"The Council did." Jaune answered. General Ironwood had brought the news back more as a story to amuse and horrify his parents than any real proposal. The Councilmembers had been rightly horrified when they heard about it, so it hadn't gotten anywhere and never would. Not that it stopped his sisters teasing him mercilessly. He let them. The fact they felt relaxed enough to tease showed they were starting to feel better about being in Atlas. They'd even started to make friends.

"I can't believe anyone would think that was a good idea." Pyrrha said. "Though it makes me wonder why I'm being sponsored for cereal and not a sports drink now that I think about it."

"Is it at least a healthy cereal?"

"It has pumpkin in it…"

"In cereal?" Whitley pulled a face. "Well, it's no wonder they think they need a famous face to sell that to children. I'd rather starve."

The lights dimmed suddenly with a loud clacking sound. Jaune, along with everyone, looked up in confusion, which was the signal for floodlights to turn loudly on and point toward the stage. It was a clever trick he realised as he turned to follow them, a cunning way to tell people to pay attention without saying a word. Any further thought on that was driven from his mind with all the force of a meteorite as a girl walked slowly out, clutching a black microphone before her.

She was petite, slim and dressed in a sparkling white dress studded with sequins that flowed down her bare legs and that sparkled brightly under the harsh glare of the spotlights. Her hair was the same colour, pristine white, and flowing down one side of her face and over her shoulder in a ponytail that flowed freely at the bottom. Her heels clicked on the stage as she strode to the centre purposefully, confidence flowing off her in a way that demanded their attention.

There was no doubting she had his.

And that was before she started to sing.

To be honest, he didn't catch many of the words. The song was fast-paced and she flowed with every word, spinning and causing her long and elaborate skirt to flare out. It was as much the movements as the song, and her sweet voice singing each word. Jaune's mouth felt all too dry and he swallowed loudly, wetting his lips and hoping no one had caught him staring. Everyone's attention was on her, thankfully. Whitley looked unimpressed, even bored, but it was his sister so he'd probably hard this before.

She's beautiful, he thought. The word didn't really do her justice. There were a lot of good-looking girls in the world – Pyrrha was beautiful as well – but none of them captivated the attention like the girl on the stage did as she carried her voice to a high note, stretching it out as she did her back, arching his way. It was accident of course, she wasn't paying attention to anyone particular in the crowd, but it felt like it was aimed at him. Was this how his sisters felt when they saw a hot boyband perform and started swooning? He'd never call them out on it again.

He couldn't look away.

Three songs were all they got. Three songs, all of ten minutes, but it felt like it lasted longer and yet not long enough. He'd be buying her singles when he got home – ordering them and listening online until they arrived. A shower of white roses had begun to fall from above as the last traces of raucous applause rang out. They mostly coated the stage, falling like a curtain in front of the girl who looked tired but pleased with herself, smiling faintly as she took deep breaths. One of the roses tumbled off the stage and at his feet, and Jaune stooped to pick it up. To his dismay, she'd left the stage in the time it took him to stand.

"That was wonderful." Pyrrha said, joining in the applause.

"Hm." Whitley clapped politely. "It wasn't bad."

"It was amazing!" Jaune argued. "Didn't you hear her-?"

"I've heard her all my life. Believe me, it's not all it's cracked up to be."

"That's because she's your sister and you're used to it all," Pyrrha said with a light laugh. "I happened to think it was lovely. Your sister is very talented."

"If you call hundreds of thousands of lien in lessons from the best teachers on Remnant talent, sure," Whitley said. "Anyone could be the same with as much as she's had invested into her. It's not- oh, father!" Whitley's tone changed immediately. More simpering, more ready to please. It was so sudden that it couldn't be anything but feigned.

"Whitley." Jacques Schnee nodded once. "And I see you have Jaune with you. I trust my son has not bored you?"

"Whitley has been great, sir." Jaune said, both because Whitley had and because he didn't want him to get in trouble. His new friend looked relieved for the support. "He's helped introduce me to a lot of people." And warned him against many more. "I wouldn't have known what to do without him."

"I'm glad to hear it. Did you enjoy hearing my daughter sing?"

"Yes! She was incredible!"

There was a ripple to Jacques' moustache as it flicked upward. He looked surprised, but not displeased. "I see you're a fan already. Would you like to meet her? I'm sure Weiss would love to speak with you."

What? Now? Her!? Jaune's stomach did a somersault and he took a nervous step back. He wasn't prepared mentally or physically to talk with someone he was crushing on that badly. "N-No. It's fine. I wouldn't want to bother her on her special day-"

"Nonsense. It's customary for each guest to come and wish the birthday girl well." Jacques placed a hand on Jaune's back and steered him away from Whitley and Pyrrha. It would have been rude to refuse, and the man didn't give him much a chance to. "Come along. I'll introduce you."

No, no, no, no, no. Where was Ironwood? Where were the Arc-Ops? Where was Elm when he needed her most? His panic continued to mount as Jacques led him toward the table at the far end of the hall, where a pair of maids and one butler were offering refreshments and kind words to the girl who had just been on stage. If he'd thought she looked stunning up there, she looked just as much down on the ground, but in a different way. Delicate like a flower, with a kind smile to the butler when he said something to her. She giggled, and Jaune's stomach backflipped wildly.

He had no idea what he was doing or what he was supposed to say. He'd met well-known people, sure, but having seen the girl sing, and with that voice, he was suddenly all out of ideas. His head was spinning as he was steered forward by Jacques, who blathered on aimlessly about how they would get on. He wasn't sure. Weiss had looked incredible on stage, and she looked even more so in person, dressed in flowing white, her skin sparkling with little dots of glitter on her smooth cheeks and her bright blue eyes taking him in, widening just the briefest bit in recognition. He clung to that. He clung to it like a drowning man to a life raft.

"And this is Jaune Arc." Jacques finished introducing him. "You've heard of him of course, and his arrival in Atlas."

He ought to have been bothered by that, by the idea she'd only know him for what he was, but he found himself hoping she did, all while his eyes took her in. Weiss' lips were sparkling softly, glittering like a starry sky thanks to her lip gloss. There was the smallest touch of purple under her eyes, and he'd never really understood makeup until this moment, but now he couldn't help but think how they perfectly offset her dark lashes and the vibrant baby blue of her eyes. She blinked once, taking in his starstruck expression, before she looked down quickly. Oh crap, he'd been caught staring. Kill him now. He had to say something to break the awkwardness.

"And Jaune," Jacques went on. "This is my youngest daughter, and the birthday girl, Weiss. It's my profound hope the two of you can-"

"You're beautiful!"

The girl's lips opened into a circle.

He wished one would open beneath his feet and swallow him whole.

"Y-Your voice, I mean," Jaune stammered helplessly, flaming bright red. It was made no better by the small audience watching them, of Ironwood, Whitley, Pyrrha, Mr Schnee and all the others who had gone suspiciously silent at his outburst. "I-I meant your voice," he whispered. "N-Not that you're not beautiful as well, but… uh…"

He'd screwed it up. All he had to do was compliment her singing, smile and wish her a happy birthday. That was all he had to do! Now he'd gone and blurted that out to her face in public and she was going to scream at him and never talk to him again. Maybe that was for the best. He couldn't upset her any further if he never talked to her again. Her face was already turning a pretty shade of pink, and he was sure she was about to snap at him at any moment.

/-/

Weiss Schnee felt, for the first time in her life, lost.

Having just come from the stage, the light in her eyes and the applause all but deafening in her ears, she'd taken a moment to relax and let Klein wipe her forehead clean. She hadn't expected anyone to approach so soon, but Klein's quick warning that her father was coming with someone drew a soft groan of complaint from her. Another political asset, she was sure, his new position on the Council was all he talked of lately. Weiss had plastered a polite and charming smile to her face and turned, ready to be bored out her mind by someone three times her age, only to be introduced to the most famous and televised man in the world right now.

Jaune Arc. Jaune. Arc. Of course she knew who he was even before her father introduced him, but decorum existed for a reason and she had to do her best to stay calm and not reveal her mounting excitement. This was the man who had turned back death, and who had given his time to save hundreds of people. Calling him a celebrity was an insult. He was a celebrity among celebrities, and he was here at her birthday party listening to her sing.

Forget coming to her for political favours. This was a man who could have had any kingdom bowing to his demands, and he instead spent that volunteering at hospitals and helping children. Weiss wouldn't call herself a fan, but she couldn't not appreciate that kind of sentiment. Where so many other people her age just talked a big game, he, like Winter, went out and acted. He helped people. That immediately won him her respect even before she met him, and she shrieked unhappily in her head that her father would choose this moment to introduce her to him. She was sweaty, she was tired, she probably looked awful!

"You're beautiful!"

Then he called her beautiful. In front of all these people. In front of so many people watching. It was not the first time. Enamoured boys had called her it before, embarrassing her in front of her family and friends, but this was the first time the words had ever set her stomach flipping and her heart racing. It was the first time she'd ever enjoyed the embarrassed rush of feelings coursing through her. And as she struggled to look back at him, to look past his crisp, tailored suit and his tall frame, his broad shoulders and his embarrassed, honest, expression, she couldn't help but lose the battle. Her eyes were cast low, wide and afraid to meet his, even if she desperately wanted to look. She fixed them on his neck instead, on the popped button and the top of his chest. It didn't help in the slightest.

Despite her training, despite everything she'd been taught by the best nannies and teachers that money could buy, her words came out a whisper, delivered with all the embarrassed pleasure a fifteen-year-old girl could muster.

"T-Thank you…"

"Here." He shoved a single flower toward her. A rose, white, and no doubt taken from any one of the many that had been released from the ceiling nets above the stage. She had, of course, received whole bouquets in some of her concerts, to say nothing of the ridiculous floral displays arranged beforehand. Her fingers curled around the stem, brushing for a moment against his. It was like a spark ran through both their bodies and he yanked his hand back. "F-For you. Um. H-Happy birthday."

His piece said, his birthday wishes given, he fled, brushing past her startled, but not unhappy, father and hurrying back among the crowd of onlookers.

Weiss clutched the single rose to her chest and watched him go.


Reviews before this chapter: "Oh no, Weiss is going to hate him."

Reviews probably after: "Oh no, Weiss likes him. That's much worse!"

Yeah, this is pre-Beacon Weiss, and it's worth remembering that even start of Beacon Weiss was very interested in getting closer to Pyrrha's fame to make a power-team, and that she learned to get past that later. Go two years earlier, before she's even properly rebelling against Jacques and wanting to go to Beacon, and this may not necessarily be how she'd be, but I don't think it's unreasonable either. Weiss is still in the stage of trying to win her father's love and hasn't quite yet completely given up even if she's starting to doubt. And Jaune is a very famous and very important young man who has been all over TV for the last few months and then is suddenly right there and calling you beautiful. Not quite as objectionable as the weird nobody calling you terrible pet names and creeping on you when you're seventeen and trying to have a conversation with someone else.

Then we have Pyrrha who, at this stage, hasn't quite started to hate the tournament scene and the fame yet. Starting to, but not as bad as in canon. Yet, of course. By the time she reaches Beacon she'll be thoroughly done with it all as she is in the show. I know this chapter may come across a little bashy of her for how she brings up Ansel, but you'll have to forgive her when she's still new to being someone (she, like Jaune, is one of the few people there not born into it as far as we know) and she's trying her best. Poor girl isn't sure what she's doing but has been invited to the event because of her fame and is trying desperately to fit in. And she's still young and maybe just as starstruck as Weiss in some cases. That'll obviously change as she starts to realise how pervasive her fame is.


Next Chapter: 31st May

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