The King
For years, the Great War waged. Children lost their parents, and parents their children. It seemed as if the whole world was slowly coming apart at the seams. It seemed there would be no hope or deliverance for the people of Remnant.
But then, a leader came forth from the Kingdom of Vale, the latest in a long, noble line. His name was William of the House of D'Arc. Under his leadership, the forces of Vale struck back against those of Mantle and Mistral, bringing low the armies that were once thought to be invincible.
In time, the war was finally brought to an end, and it seemed peace would return to Remnant. William, determined to see things changed, instituted sweeping reforms across Remnant, including the abolition of slavery, and more significantly, the monarchies with it. William thanked his people fro their unwavering support, and he left his throne to lead a more humble, solitary life. But it was not to be.
The people did not want their king to leave, he who saved them in their time of need, who delivered them the victory they so richly deserved. They did not want untested bureaucrats who claimed to seek the best interests of the people, but would argue over committees and minor rules. And so the people cried out for their king to return.
King William, not in a place to refuse the calls of his people, obliged their requests. As such, the monarchy of Vale was restored just a few years after it was abolished, the sole remaining monarchy in Remnant.
To this day, the House of D'Arc rules the Kingdom of Vale, and they remain beloved by their people, and it is held that they will continue to rule the country for generations to come. But nothing can be left for certain, and destiny can be somewhat…. capricious.
(I) (I) (I)
"The answer is no."
Jaune was almost surprised by how quick his father had said that. True, it was a simple "yes" or "no" question, but he thought his father would at least give it some token thought.
"But…"
"You heard me," King Alistair D'Arc said, as he turned his attention back to the paperwork on his desk. Jaune opened his mouth to keep talking, but no words came out. He was meeting with his father to pitch the idea of Jaune attending Beacon Academy to become a huntsman. Perhaps he should've expected a "no", but that didn't mean Jaune was going to give up just like that.
"Why not?" he asked, "What's wrong with me being a huntsman? You let Jade join the military, how is this any different?"
"It is very different," Alistair answered, looking back at Jaune, "I shouldn't have to tell you how." Jaune's brow furrowed, knowing his father was right. He was meeting the king in his private office, which was less opulent than one may expect a monarch to have. It mostly consisted of a simple, but nice mahogany desk, covered with papers, in front of a massive window wall that looked over the city. Framing the doors were a pair of green banners with the symbol of Vale. The king was appeared rather modest as well; he was bald, and his face was aged, but still strong, with the same blue eyes as Jaune. He was wearing a simple gray polo-shirt with similar-colored pants. That was all very typical for the House of D'Arc; in the words of Jaune's great-great grandfather "live modest, die old".
"Come on!" Jaune said, spreading his arms, "I can be a huntsman."
"It is not your ability I am doubting," Alistair answered, tapping his pen on the desk, "Be assured, it was never about that."
"Then why?" Jaune asked, as he took a step forward to his father's desk. The king was silent for a time, as he looked at his son carefully, before taking a breath, and looking out the window.
"Jaune, do you remember who you are?" he asked. There it was, the question Jaune and his sisters had heard more times than any other question. It as if their parents really thought they occasionally forgot, as if that were possible living in the Vale Royal Palace. Jaune's gaze went to the floor as his fists clenched.
"I need you understand…," Alistair began.
"I know who I am," Jaune interrupted, a fact that was very apparent to both him, and his father, who stared at him, before narrowing his eyes.
"Jaune…," he said slowly.
"Trust me, I never forget that. I'm reminded every time I wake up, heck, every time I take a step I remember! But I…"
"You're also my son." Those words very quickly made Jaune shut up, as they hung heavy in the air, as Jaune and his father stared each other down.
"So tell me," Alistair said, as he suddenly rose to his feet, "what am I supposed to tell your mother when news comes in about her youngest child being maimed by a Beowolf, an Ursa, or some form of Grimm we haven't even discovered yet?" Jaune opened then closed his mouth, as he averted his gaze. Father and son stood in silence for a time.
"May I go?" Jaune eventually asked slowly.
"You may," Alistair said, as he waved his hand slightly. Jaune just bowed slightly.
"Your Majesty," he said, before he left, the king watching as he did, sighing slightly.
The guards closing the doors behind him, Jaune made his way down the long, wide hall, trying to make sense of what had just happened. He had a feeling that this would've been a long shot, but still hoped that maybe, just maybe, he could've persuaded his father to this. For him to be so soundly shut down like this…. That he hadn't been expected. Maybe he should've.
"How'd it go?" Jaune glanced up to see the head of his personal guard, and good friend, Ilia Amitola leaning on the wall.
"How do you think?" Jaune grumbled, "You going to say 'I told you so'?"
"No, actually," Ilia said, as she started walking with him, "As a matter of fact, I was rooting for you in there." The girl had long, auburn hair that was tied back into a pony tail, with light brown skin, and a face covered with freckles. She was wearing a short black cropped jacket, with a gray cropped top and brown pants.
"Well, no offense, but I don't think it did any good," Jaune said glumly. Ilia put a hadn't on his shoulder, as her skin suddenly turned a sympathetic blue. Though one wouldn't have been able to tell, the girl was a Faunus, specifically a chameleon, which was how she was able to shift her colors like this. She briefly considered suggested Jaune go into the military, like Jade did, but went against it, knowing Jaune would never go for such a thing.
"Well, maybe if you give the king a little time to think about it, and asked him again later…," she said.
"Something tells me that probably won't work either," Jaune said, "Have you ever known my dad to walk back on a decision?"
"Good point," Ilia said, as her skin went back to its normal color. It wasn't that good a king who regularly walked back on his decisions. Ilia perused her mind for anything that might've made her friend cheer up, even if a little.
"Come on," she said, socking him in the arm slightly, "Let's go do some training."
"Training?" Jaune asked, surprised by the request, "But…"
"Just because you might not be a huntsman doesn't mean you shouldn't keep your skills sharp," the chameleon said with a slight smile, and a gesture, "Come on, let's go." Jaune was almost inclined to say "no", but found it hard to say "no" to Ilia like that.
"Alright," he relented, "Lead the way."
"Gladly," Ilia said with a slight smirk, "Don't expect me to go easy on you even if what's been happening."
"How'd I know you were going to say that?"
(I) (I) (I)
(later that night)
Alistair sat on a bench deep in the gardens of the Royal Palace, which, Ian departure from much of the residence, was quite extravagant; sometimes, the king wondered why his grandfather kept this spot of all places the way it was; it was full of exotic plants from all over Remnant, and well kept pools and fountains. He didn't have his guards with him, at his request; if he wasn't safe in the Royal Palace, then where would he ever be safe?
The king swirled the whiskey glass he had slightly, as he looked into it, and downed it in one gulp. He cringed as the effect of the alcohol rolled over him, briefly, before he sighed, and looked up at the night sky. Due to the light pollution, it could be hard at times to see the stars.
"You look like you could use someone to take with." Alistair looked up to see a tall man in a black and green suit with grey hair and a cane approaching him.
"How did you guess?" the king asked. Professor Ozpin, the headmaster of Beacon Academy, and probably one of the king's closest confidantes, chuckled slightly, as he sat down on the bench beside him.
"Need anything to drink?" Alistair asked, holding up his empty glass, "It would give me an excuse to get another."
"Thank you, but I brought some of my own," Ozpin said, as he held up his coffee mug, and took a sip from it. Alistair snorted at the sight of that.
"I can count on one hand the amount of times I've seen you without that thing," he said. Ozpin just gave him a teasing smile, before drinking again.
"I heard what happened with your son," he then said.
"Did you now?" Alistair said, honestly not at all surprised, "I wouldn't presume to wonder how you found out?"
"Well, I feel you are making a mistake, not allowing him to be a huntsman," Ozpin said, "Jaune has a great amount of potential."
"I don't need you telling me that," Alistair said, "Who do you think supervised his training?"
"You weren't the only one," Ozpin said, "He could be an exceptional huntsman if given the chance."
"It's not about that," Alistair said, leaning forward setting his glass on the ground before leaning into his hand, "The world is becoming more dangerous, not safer. If something happens to him…" He trailed off, not even wanting to continue that line of thinking. The headmaster looked at him slightly, as he set his mug to the side, and leaned on his cane beside his king.
"Tell me something, Alistair," Ozpin then said, "What will Jaune's future be, otherwise?" That got Alistair to look up at his advisor in surprise.
"He is the last in line to the throne," he continued, "Only through absolute disaster will he ever rule this country."
"You talk as if that's a bad thing," Alistair said, leaning back and folding his arms.
"Being a huntsman may very ell be the first real chance he has to be something more," Ozpin said, "Who are you to deny him that?" Perhaps his king? Or his father? Alistair thought, but Ozpin was more correct that he would've preferred. Alistair had been an only child; he'd never known the feeling Jaune had, to be the spare to the throne. Perhaps Ozpin was right. Jaune was his son, but also one of his subjects, and what right did a king have to interfere with his subject's aspirations? Alistair took a deep breath, as he leaned into his hand with a sigh, rubbing his face.
"If it is any comfort at all, I will personally watch over him during his time here," Ozpin said, gesturing with his mug. Alistair remained silent, keeping his gaze on the ground.
"He can't be launched into the air like the other students," the king finally said.
"Well…"
"That is not negotiable," Alistair said, using the tone he reserved for official meetings of state, looking at Ozpin as he did so, "And if he is ever put in significant danger, then I expect you and the other teachers to intervene." He then rose to his feet as he walked towards the pool.
"And if anything happens to him," he continued, before looking at his advisor, "I will hold you personally responsible." Lesser men may be intimidated, but Alistair was not the first king Ozpin had to stare down.
"Of course, my king," he said with a slight grin that Alistair wasn't sure he liked, "Though I suspect Jaune will resent special treatment."
"That he will," Alistair said, as he looked back over the pool, "That he will."
(I) (I) (I)
Though Jaune, and everyone else in his family for that matter, always enjoyed sharing their evening meals with each other, in their line of work, that was rarely an option. Only on a few occasions did the entire Royal Family sit down to eat dinner together, and While Jaune treasured those moments, he had made peace with the fact they weren't common. He was content, at the time, to enjoy it with Ilia.
"Why do you want to be a huntsman?" Jaune looked over in surprise at the sound of Ilia's question.
"What?" he asked.
"I just wondering, why do you want to be a huntsman so bad?" Ilia asked finished their dinner, the two were now leaning on the balcony of Jaune's room, looking over the skyline of Vale.
"Just it… feels like something I'm meant to do," Jaune said, "I mean, I'll never be king or anything, so this may be the best way for me to help people."
"You can help people in other ways," Ilia said, "You may not be king, but you're still a prince."
"It's not the same," Jaune said as he boosted himself, and walked back into his royal suite, "If I were huntsman, I could actually go out and help people. Here, I can ask people to do things, and stuff like that, but that's it."
"Hey, don't sell yourself short," Ilia said, "A little goes a long way." Jaune certainly wanted to believe that, but in this day and age, it didn't seem like that was the case.
"Well…". He couldn't finish, as the door suddenly opened, and the friends turned to see a guard hurrying in.
"Your Highness," she said, as she fell to one knee, "His Majesty has summoned you to the throne room."
"Really?" Jane asked. He had wanted to ask "why", but knew there was no way the guard would know the answer to that question.
"He requested your presence immediately," the guard added. Knowing better than to wait on the king, Jaune turned to leave.
"Hey Jaune!" he heard Ilia call. The prince paused as he looked back at his friend, who smiled at him, before turning a pretty shade of red.
"Told you so!"
(I) (I) (I)
Jaune rarely went to the throne room, unless it was something official. In fact, despite what some might think, it was not a place that was used as much as people would think; unless the king was giving an official decree, or receiving an official state visit, it was generally left unused.
In spite of that, or perhaps because, it was still very well maintained, for obvious reasons. It was a wide open room with practically nothing in it, save for the throne itself, which sat atop a small dais, and while not particular large, was made out of gold, with a large red cushion on it. Looming over the throne was a banner with the symbol of the Kingdom of Vale. It was where all previous rulers of Vale had been coronated, and it would be where Vermillion would be crowned, as it would be for her son when he became king.
Jaune made his way in, to see the king standing at the foot of the steps, staring up at the throne. His arms were folded, and he was perfectly still, almost as if he were a statue.
"Your Majesty," Jaune said, as he bowed his head briefly to his father. Initially, he didn't get an answer, as his father remained still, "You asked for me?"
"That I did," Alistair answered, not looking towards Jaune, "But first, there's something I want to be made clear." Jaune cocked his head, not sure what this could be about. With that, his father finally turned towards him.
"I am not making this decision lightly, and I am making it with the hope that you'll understand the position this puts me in, and what you will have to do for this on your end," the king continued, "Do you understand?" Jaune tried to process what he was hearing. Could this be about him being a Huntsman? He'd never known his father to change his mind, at least so quickly. This had to be about something else, right? But when when the king wanted something understood, you had better understand it.
"Yes, Your…" Jaune didn't get to finish, as his father held up his hand.
"No," he said firmly, "Not like that."
"What do you mean?" Jaune asked, confused. Alistair was silent for a second as he approached Jaune, until he was standing over him.
"Because I'm not asking this of you as your king." That there, was all Jaune needed to know, as a sense of realization came over him, and his eyes widened.
"Do you mean...," he began.
"Do you understand?" his father repeated. Jaune tried to regain his composure, shaking his head slightly, as he stood up straight.
"Yes Dad," he said firmly. Alistair looked at him, before sighing, and coming up beside him, putting his hand on his shoulder as he did.
"Good luck, son," was all he said, before he strode away. Jaune watched him leave, as he let himself smile in excitement. It almost seemed too good to be true, but here he was, nonetheless, having finally gotten his father's permission to do it.
"Jaune!" he suddenly heard his father call.
"Coming!" Jaune answered. He looked at the throne one last time, before the prince followed after the king.
Note: I know a lot of people don't want to see a new story from me at this point, but I'm experiencing a great deal of writers block right now. So I decided to make a new story to help maybe clear my head slightly. The premise of this is obviously pretty simple. On top of that, I also got a new computer, and transferring my files isn't proving easy.
I know there's no canonic statement that Jaune is related to the king of Vale, but I like the idea as a concept, so I feel it's worth exploring. I can't say for certain how frequently this'll be updated, because I honestly wrote this on a whim to (again) clear my head, and only really have a loose idea about how this story will go. I'm sure you're wondering how he met with Ilia, but rest assured, it'll all be explained soon; I didn't want to include a large amount of exposition.
If there is to be a pairing, it is currently up in the air, since I can see it going pretty much anyway for our prince, and not just the five main ones. You can imagine the characters may treat Jaune significantly differently considering that he's a prince. And in case anyone's thinking it, NO, this will not be Jaune x Ilia; she's gay, and to rewrite her character to be otherwise is wrong.
Be sure to comment.