When dawn came Jaune was in massive amounts of pain. His skull throbbed from where it had smashed against the wall and the slightly excessive drinking afterwards certainly hadn't helped. With a groan, he rolled over to fall out of the bed onto the blessedly cold floor, but something very warm and soft stopped him.
…what…
Jaune stared. Then he blinked. Then he rubbed his eyes. Then he blinked again. Then he slapped himself.
Ruby groaned at the noise and rolled over so that she faced him, making him freeze with tension. What in the name of the gods had he done?!
'It was the drink. It was the drink.' Jaune chanted in his head, sending prayers of thanks to every god his tired mind could think of upon noticing both he and Ruby were still dressed. With slow, careful movements he gently extracted Ruby from his chest and turned over to climb out the other side of the bed. He felt a surge of 'Awww!' when Ruby grumbled in her sleep at the loss of her living hot water skin, and his mind was kind enough to supply memories of his little sisters doing the same after he woke up and tried leaving without waking them after they'd clambered in his bed during the colder winter nights or after a storm. Jaune sighed, before shaking his head from the nostalgia and turned to ease himself out of the bed.
"Good morning Casanova." Greeted Blake, sat cross legged whilst she ate some of the food they'd left out for her the previous night.
"Hnn." Jaune politely replied as his brain frazzled with mortified embarrassment and shock. How was she okay? It was good that she was okay, but he'd been knocked out for weeks after being accidentally subjected to the power of Ruby's silver eyes. How was Blake able to just sleep it off like a bad hangover?
"Hnn indeed. Do you remember what I said I'd do if you touched me whilst I was asleep?"
Jaune swallowed nervously and raised his arms in surrender, eyes fixated on the katana rested sideways across Blake's lap.
"I swear on my soul I did nothing untoward whilst you were unconscious." Jaune stated calmly, trying to project his sincerity with the desperation of a man fearing for the wellbeing of his future offspring and the means to produce them.
Blake said nothing. She stared at him with a practised, impassive look whilst she nibbled on a cracker, her katana held in her other hand.
"I'm messing with you Jaune." Blake smiled, rolling her eyes. A sudden wave of relief made Jaune crumpling on himself, which made Blake laugh. "I'm not that scary am I?"
Jaune thought long and carefully for the right response. What if he said no and then she did something scary to prove him wrong? What if he said yes and hurt her feelings?
'I really wish I was home right about now.' Jaune thought with a sigh as he sat straight facing Blake.
"Only slightly." He replied. "I'd say you're more mysterious than scary."
"Fair point."
They sat in silence, facing each other. Eventually Blake sighed.
"I'll explain more when Ruby wakes up." She told him, making him relax noticeably. He hadn't realised he'd been so nervous, but as he woke up properly all the questions he'd suppressed due to pain and tiredness had come crawling back to rattle around his mind annoyingly.
How did the scorpion faunus know Blake? What was their connection? How had she recovered so quickly?
"That's fine. Normally I wouldn't push you if you weren't ready to open up but…" Jaune said, scratching his head awkwardly.
"I know. I'll talk but I don't want to repeat the story and Ruby could use the sleep. Besides, I have some questions of my own. What happened with Tyrian?"
Jaune then ushered her out of the room, not wanting to wake Ruby, before telling her what had happened when she fell unconscious, about how Ruby had managed to drive the faunus off with her magic and then they'd broken into the house to sleep in for the night because they didn't want to freeze to death.
"That's for sure." Blake shuddered. "I hate the cold."
"I'm pretty sure everyone does." Jaune replied.
"Some Atlesian tribes live in the wilderness. I've never met them, but I know they prefer to stick to themselves and the old ways out in the icelands. They'd have to love the cold to put up with it when they could just migrate somewhere warmer."
"I think it's more of an ideological thing. The tribes were dying out before the Great War, lured by warmer climates and better prospects in the south. But then the Great War happened and people felt cheated because Mistrali inquisitors were rounding up magic users and suppressing some of their religions whilst the nobility stood by and did nothing. Apparently it caused a mass exodus of religious folk trying to escape religious persecution to join the tribes." Jaune explained whilst he sipped at a cup of ice cold water. It was bitterly cold and hurt his teeth swallowing it, but it was at least crystal clear and clean, not to mention harsh enough to properly wake him up.
"That noble education really paid off huh?" Blake replied with a teasing smile. "I never knew you knew so much."
"Ahh please." Jaune blushed, at both the praise and the suggestion she thought he was an idiot. "I probably seem smarter than I am because I'm talking about stuff I know about. Ask me to do some sums and I'll make you think I'm dumb again."
"I don't think you're dumb Jaune." Blake said, standing and stretching with a yawn. "Just lacking in common sense."
"How long have you been awake for?" Jaune asked, hoping to change the topic before he received more backhanded compliments and/or insults.
"A few hours." Blake replied with a smirk, realising what he was doing. "I ate some of the food I assumed you left for me and did some scouting. The dragon hasn't attacked yet so Snowmire is still in one piece, but there's a lot of damage from rioters and looters. The militia has got things under control now and most people are either holed up in their homes or community shelters. Apparently the Alderman is going to let people leave Snowmire so long they hunt the dragon, and a bounty of 20,000 Lien has been put on it."
"20,000?!" Jaune yelled. "That's more than what my dad's revenue makes in half a year! How does Snowmire have so much?"
"Tariffs from trade goods head to Nordliche Burg." Blake replied. "Royals are expensive and so are the stuff heading north. Makes quite a lucrative trade. I'm surprised you didn't know that."
"I know Snowmire is strategically important and makes lots of money from trade." Jaune retorted. "I just didn't know it was so much."
"Fair." Blake shrugged, before nudging him with her foot. "Come on. We'll get you some armour and a proper weapon. It was brave of you to attack Tyrian with a plank of wood, but I doubt that'll work against a dragon. With any luck Ruby'll be awake when we get back."
Jaune nodded at her, trying to hide his eagerness at finally getting armed and ready. He knew he was the weak link of the group, the underprepared finance guy at best or the naive, idiot dunce at worst. With a weapon, he might be able to finally pull his weight when it was needed. He'd been so bloody useless in the fight in the alley, so useless when Klein had fought by himself against a dozen men whilst Jaune had done nothing before running like a coward. It was time that changed.
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Vulcan was the heart of trade between Atlas and Mistral. Despite the tensions between the two kingdoms, Vulcan and it's distant sister-city of Argus had prospered. Goods flowed through it with ease, and the settlement was protected by nearby Fort Maxim, which had been built long ago to deter Mistrali pirates and privateers who had raided Atlas' southern coast. But those were distant days, and the fort had fallen into neglect in recent years as King Jaqcues focused the Kingdom's resources on his great projects like the Solitas Road. Regardless, there wasn't any need to defend the settlement. Despite the Great War, Atlas and Mistral were mostly at peace, and were both committed to ensuring the sea between them was free of piracy.
It was safe, rich and stable.
Then the red sails appeared on the coast, and a grizzled old veteran with one leg and the fifteen year-old orphan who'd joined the guard for food wondered just how true that statement was when they were the only ones on duty at the crumbling shambles of the former fort that had guarded Vulcan for millennia.
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Vine Zeki was a patient man. It was something he'd learned as a child, something he had had to get used to very quickly if he was to survive the cold that permeated Atlas and the people who lived there.
His father had been impoverished despite the long lineage of House Zeki, a lineage that brought influence and prestige. However, King Jacques was not one who cared much for lineage, but rather money and one's ability to make more of it. As such, Lord Zeki had fallen out of favour of the monarchy, and his family suffered.
When Vine had been born, it was his mothers love that had saved him. Lord Zeki had wanted to leave him out in the cold to die. He already had a son after all, a hale and hearty eight year old boy who was quickly becoming a rowdy young man. What was the point in keeping the second, when he couldn't be married off for a dowry like a daughter could?
But Lord Zeki was in love with his wife, and his wife was in love with her newborn. Vine had been spared, but that lesson had stuck with him ever since his elder brother drunkenly revealed it to him one night.
Love was a weakness to exploit.
But how had that taught him patience? It was quite simple really. Vine's older brother had been betrothed to a beautiful noble lady from Vale, Aella. The Lady's family was one of the new generation that had popped up in the aftermath of the Faunus Rights War. They were desperate for legitimacy, something being attached to the name Zeki would bring.
She was beautiful and kind and intelligent, all the things his brother was not. Natural the elder of the Zeki brother's had been ensnared by her beauty the moment he saw her. Vine would be lying if he said he hadn't been just as equally smitten, but it was when she had spoken to him and showed her just as beautiful inside when he'd truly fallen in love with her.
So he bided his time. He refused to allow his brother to taint her with his smugness, his violence, his lust. He waited, spreading rumours amongst the servants who he had befriended over the years. Accusations and counter-accusations spread like fire, some saying Aella was a harlot who courted demons and others claiming Vine's brother had caught the lover's pox after sleeping with one too many servants. The infatuation between the couple died just as quickly as it sprung up, and when Aella had weeped, alone and afraid and far from home, Vine had been there to comfort her.
Months passed. The marriage neared. Vine's brother grew bored from being holed up at the castle, ordered so by their father, who desperately feared the loss of his heir. With a few bribes here and threats there, the guards who normally diligently watched over Vine's brother were either late or asleep. By then the elder Zeki had snuck out into the woods with his bow, brimming with excitement at his freedom.
He'd been so excited, he failed to see a gorge in the darkness and had consequently plummeted to his death.
Vine's first act as heir had been one of chivalry. He agreed to marry his brother's betrothed to honour the contract made between their houses, and not long after that Vine's father drank one drink too many and died.
Vine had won. He'd won the lordship, the woman, the story. All because of patience.
As such, he was pleasantly surprised when a letter fluttered in from the rafters of his office's ceiling. It was a meagre enchantment, a simple ring that allowed the instantaneous travel of an item or letter bearing critical information from Vine's web of spies and informants. Any magic users who could do better had been driven into hiding by Mistral's inquisitors. Vine surveyed the letter, holding it up against the candle flickering on his desk.
Red ink. Hand-writing scribbled and messy. Not good.
Vine opened the letter, and read its contents carefully.
To the bald bastard Z,
If you're reading this I'm dead and don't care about calling you what you really are you absolute twatting fuckwad. Here's hoping it was quick:
Nikos lost it. Attacking Atlas. Haven destroyed. Dragon-
The writing scribbled off, someone having likely tried taking it from his spy by force before it had been sent. The only person who had the stones to call Vine a bastard was Slater Bleu, who he had sent to Mistral. This wasn't good. Not good at all.
Queen Weiss needed to know.
Vine Zeki ran from his office and towards the courtroom where the Queen of Atlas-Vale was granting petitions for the first time in weeks.
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Lorna was tired. She'd spent all day helping her mama at their stall, selling the meat her papa hunted in the grassy plains beyond the great grey walls that protected Kingsberg for hundreds of years.
The stalls were closing now, and Lorna's papa had taken her home whilst her mama closed up the stall. She'd been promised her papa had begun making stew for tea, and her belly rumbled at the thought of food.
Then the sky screamed and the ground rumbled. Orange and heat washed over them, bathing houses and streets and stalls in flame before the fire moved on and left nothing but ashes and cinders behind.
"Mama?" Lorna gasped, staring at where their stall had been, where her mother had been. There was nothing but ash and charcoal and…
Bodies. Burnt black and unrecognisable.
"Mama!" Lorna screamed. She was young, but she was old enough to know what had happened. Tears rolled down her cheeks and her chest heaved with deep, heavy sobs of pain and misery. "Mama!"
"Oh no no no no!" Lorna's papa wailed, holding Lorna tightly as he stood still and shocked. "NO!"
The sky screamed again, and another row of houses disappeared beneath flame. Lorna looked up from the blackened, burnt remains of her mother and stared as the terrifyingly large, dark monster glided overhead. Gusts of wind from its flapping wings fanned the flames, and crackling timber joined the growing sounds of screaming and crying and chaos.
"Oh gods." Papa moaned weakly, running into an alleyway. It should've been cool, almost cold, but the roaring inferno nearby made it warm.
They huddled there for hours. Night came and went. Screams and wails and moans screamed and wailed and moaned until all was silent. The air was foggy and smelly and quiet and filled with smoke.
Then she heard it shuffling through the debris, and Lorna began crying one more at the thought of being eaten. Her father tried soothing her fear, wrapping her in his arms and whispering softly. But not even his loving embrace could save them as a shadow loomed overhead and blotted the hazy image of the sun.
Lorna whimpered as she heard it rumble. It was quieter than its earlier bellowing, but her bones still shook and trembled at the noise.
Against her better instinct, Lorna looked up, staring into the yellow eyes of the beast that was going to kill her and her papa. Just like it had killed mama and everyone else she knew. It seemed…lively. Soft even. Like it could see, not just be filled with anger and hatred and greed. A low, sad coo made her shiver, and Lorna sobbed and buried her face in her father's large, comforting chest.
The monster howled, its terrible screech making her yell and her father try to cover her ears. She looked back at it, determined to stare it down as it murdered her, but it was howling at the sky with its wings outstretched and agony and rage radiating from its body.
Then it was away, bathing them in gusts of cool wind as it flapped its wings and soared off into the distance.
A/N: To commemorate the one year anniversary of this long, drawn out and crappy fanfic, next month there'll be numerous chapters instead of the usual one. Don't know how many though.