Published: 05 Oct 2024

Fate can be a very fickle and sensitive topic for different individuals. Ask them what they think of fate and you will get answers that are just as varied and with different perspectives.

For one group of people, it suggests the inevitably of things to come, something that is predetermined by some outside forces. Something that cannot be worked around in spite of any and all effort to do so.

For a second group, it is often used with the word 'destiny', where the user in question will take an active role in a set of predetermined events, provided the person is willing to take the plunge.

And then we have those who have heard of their fates, told of their inevitability and how they should accept it. These are the ones who decided that they will still decide their fates to be made by their own hands no matter the cost, and they managed to do so, often achieving great things in life and reaching the pinnacle of their success, or to perish alone on a hill of blades, betrayed by those they saved or by one's beliefs.

The lesson in this: One can never and in some cases, should not use "Fate" as a way of justifying the means to the end of a task, or to claim that it was for the Greater Good that required sacrifices of the innocent. One does not presume that fate dictates your actions or that you can't do anything about it.

Because one can never tell when life decides to throw a curve ball in your midst and alter your fate in a different manner from what was previously intended.

~ooOOoo~

For as long as Jaune Arc could remember while growing up, he had always dreamed of being a hero.

Jaune Arc was a boy who grew up in one of the bigger villages on the outer ridges of Vale Kingdom. Officially, it would be a village on paper, but it was more of a medium sized town that enjoyed the relative security of both the guardsmen sent by the government, and the natural fortifications in the region. It also meant that they had the general comforts of technology like the cell tower for communications, a decent refrigerator and even some backup generators if needed.

Jaune grew up in a large family, and had the distinction of being the only boy born with seven sisters (he was not kidding, he had that many sisters!), something that many had marvelled at the mother pushing out so many children while jokingly poking at his father for needing more testerone in the family. He was the middle kid, so he had three younger sisters and four older sisters, and the house was often quite loud with their antics, and he was often the brunt of jokes since his sisters would love to play dress up with him. They were a middle-income family, so they would not have some of those fancy types of furniture or high-class transport like the latest car model. But they were content with the life of the town with all the craziness one would expect from a family with hyperactive children, and they were a pretty happy family for the most part.

The reason for not being completely happy?

As a boy who grew up in a family of heroes and huntsmen, Jaune always loved to hear stories about the old heroes from his grandfather and uncles who visited. He had always fancied the images that popped into his head about his great-great grandfather who had fought in the Great War that would lead to the formation of the four kingdoms and the four huntsmen academies. He would gaze upon the ancestral weapon that sat proud above the fireplace in the living room, one of the first weapons to utilise the mechanical shifting technology which allowed the early generation to change from one weapon to another. Crocea Mors was a classic compared to the current generation of weapons, with the shield as a sheath for the blade that to this day still withstood the tests of time, merely requiring the occasional scrubbing and oil treatment to keep the edge.

While he was not supposed to, his grandfather would take down Crocea Mors for Jaune to look and touch, and the young boy would swear that the sword hummed when he gripped the handle. Jaune would imagine himself to be a huntsman wielding Crocea Mors in battle and would go on adventures to save the kingdom, as any boy would dream about. And being the only son of the family, there was the hidden expectation for him to continue the legacy.

But reality was not a forgiving mistress who loved to break dreams.

Two years after his birth, a disease started spreading on the outskirts of Vale, and he had contracted said disease that did a number on his immune system, causing him to be really weak in his early childhood and making his parents worry greatly about his well-being. It took quite a while for his health to get better, and then came his younger sisters which he had to help take care of during their early years as his parents were busy handling the Grimm. There were many tasks and chores to complete that Jaune would just collapse from exhaustion on account of this and his health, so he had to take a few breaks to ensure he did not push himself too far, something enforced by his older sisters when caring for him.

By the time Jaune was ten, he had recovered enough from the disease to be able to walk about without any aid, and he was arguably quite good when it came to housekeeping and balancing the books for the household, but he missed the chance to go into one of the prep schools meant for those interested in becoming a huntsman. Jaune had asked his parents if they could teach him, but they were afraid about a relapse and him being the only son of the family meant his father was not going to risk his life fighting the Grimm.

That was just one of the many arguments he had with his parents, and it did not really help Jaune's confidence that some of the other kids of his age group were already getting the lessons to begin their first steps into being a huntsman. There was always that group of popular kids who would want to rub it in the faces of others, and for Jaune who was born in a family of huntsmen with a weakened body, he was effectively a big target. And while his big sisters meant well in stopping them from bullying him, it made him feel inadequate since they were the ones with the actual training. At times, the stories he listened to from his grandfather or uncles appeared to be mocking him for his perceived weakness, and he would hear the jeers of the children in the town in the privacy of his room, mocking him for his weakness to need protection from his sisters.

Jaune started trying to imitate what he could from watching his sisters, uncles and grandfather training, and learn what he could from books, but there was only so much he could do in secret, and his father would make sure he did not get any ideas about becoming a huntsman. At those times, Jaune's only solace was to sit in front of his ancestor's weapon case, sometimes even taking Crocea Mors out of the display stand to hold it in his hands, and if he could imagine it, the warmth that came from it as he hugged the sheathed weapon with tears in his eyes.

Perhaps in one timeline, he would wallow about trying to get some form of recognition. Maybe even run away to join a school with fake papers if he was desperate enough to do it.

But in this timeline, his grandfather Aurivelle was still around and watching how his only grandson was getting depressed by all that went on, and decided that what the boy needed was some good old fashioned huntsman training, not those "gimmicky stuntman bullshit" as he would put it politely. And his older sisters could see how much it really meant for Jaune to at least carry on some form of legacy, along with the hurt in his eyes whenever he watched them train. And so the group consisting of his grandfather, older sisters and sometimes his uncle would train him in between their missions or on their breaks, taking care to avoid the parents as they did it. His younger sisters were supportive in their own manner, and Jaune did not care if he was being goofy around baby Silvia waving her arms at him when he swung the practice sword.

Granted, he started late, but as his Uncle Alex Armstrong would state, it was better to have some skills under his belt than to have no training at all, and being trained in the old ways meant he would know when to avoid trouble and be able to work on muscles that could be properly trained "to be passed down the Arc Family for generations". All said and done with sparkles glittering around him somehow as he flexed off his own set of muscles while shirtless.

Jaune had no idea how that even worked or why his uncle even did that. His sisters kept getting traumatised because of that, damn it!

It was hard going, that much he won't lie. His body was aching in places he did not think was possible by the end of each training session even if they tried to take it easy on account of his recent recovery and his lack of prior training. But Jaune persisted with the training and kept on going with the bruises. This was a chance that he was granted thanks to some who trusted in him, and he was going to take that chance! He was going to prove to his parents he could help with the legacy!

He would prove that he was not weak!

He would prove that he can be a hero like his ancestors!

As he thought of that while laying in bed, a butterfly flapped its wings outside of his house before it moved in a different direction. A change had been introduced to the boy's future that would have seen many trials in his way, and many heartbreaks.

But the main change to his fate would come later in life, when he finally got the chance to get to Beacon Academy.

Author's Notes:

So here it is, the start of my rewrite, hopefully I can do better with this version of my longest RWBY story to date. As stated, this is now being cross-posted on AO3 "rwby1989" so in case FF decides to go bonkers again, we have a backup.