After a very long hiatus, I'm finally back with another longfic! And despite a massive snowstorm this week (the dogs are loving it) and loss of internet yesterday (finished editing and uploaded from a Walmart parking lot to use their Wi-Fi), we're only a couple hours behind schedule!
Just a quick heads up on what you're getting into here. This story will focus on the life of Adam Taurus, from childhood all the way to his death. I'm not changing canon at the end. Everything we've seen in RWBY will play out exactly the same, so there will be no redemption here. This will in no way attempt to justify his actions or try to make you forgive him. Instead, we'll explore how Adam became the monster we know from the show. After all, he wasn't born that way.
But before we begin, be warned that the M-rating is there for a reason. Things are gonna get dark. I still intend to avoid foul language and smut, but I may be checking most of the other boxes along the way. Graphic violence. Twisted mentalities. Emotional abuse. Abuse of minors. While most will happen "off-camera" you'll definitely know what's going on. This'll make In RWBY's Shadow look joyful in comparison. But such is the life of Adam (or at least, the life I've imagined for him). Naturally, I do not condone the things that'll happen and will put more warnings as needed, but wanted to put all the cards on the table from the start.
If you haven't already noped your way out of here by now, then lets get started.
A lone figure ambled down the main road of Shizukana village, enjoying the brisk, pre-dawn breeze as most of the town lay quiet. Despite the relative silence, Father Bernard knew the growing light on the horizon would soon herald the start of another busy day. He could already see light spilling from the window of a nearby bakery as it prepared for the early morning rush. Smoke had only just begun drifting its way lazily skyward from the blacksmith's forge. And if he listened close enough, he could just make out the sound of the merchant caravan preparing to depart.
Father Bernard smiled at the familiar happenings but continued past them all. Despite his leisurely pace, he too had things to accomplish this morning. Or, rather, he had somewhere to be. Thankfully, Shizukana was a small village, at least in comparison to larger towns like Katai. And even that paled in comparison to the grandeur of the capital city of Mistral. Even though Mrs. Wilde's house was nearly at the opposite edge of the village from his church, he still managed to reach the small home just as the sun rose. While he wouldn't normally drop in on someone this early, Father Bernard knew Mr. Wilde would be heading to work shortly. Mrs. Wilde would never let him leave without preparing a proper lunch for him. Which meant…
"Oh! Good morning, Father." Father Bernard's timing proved as accurate as ever, catching the man right before he left for work. Mr. Wilde straightened noticeably at the sight of the unexpected guest. "Was there a problem with the count?"
Father Bernard waved off his concern quickly. "Accurate as always." Mr. Wilde's meticulous nature, as well as his faithfulness, was why Father Bernard had asked him to be the church's treasurer several years ago. To be honest, Father Bernard hadn't checked on the finances in weeks. And even if he had noticed a discrepancy, he would never ambush someone like that at their home. "Actually, I just wanted to drop in and see how your family was doing this morning."
"Honey!" Mr. Wilde called behind him as he turned, but nearly jumped as his wife appeared beside him, evidently having heard Father Bernard's arrival from the next room.
"Don't forget your lunch," she instructed, forcing a rather full brown paper bag into her husband's hand.
Knowing better than to wait for acknowledgment from the matron of the house, Father Bernard directed his attention to his true target. "Why, good morning Mrs. Wilde! How are you doing on this blessed day?"
"Well enough, Father." Her flat response hardly surprised Father Bernard. Where her husband took joy in serving the church, her joy came from the prominence of it all. She sat up front so that all could admire her outfits. Her husband's position in the church was a favorite topic of hers. In the choir, her voice rang out above the rest - even if it didn't always hit the right note.
"I was just-"
"Have a great day at work, darling!" Her words sounded sweeter than even the tea at fellowship, but the gentle shove that accompanied them made it clear her husband was leaving the conversation. Unfortunate, given how much more pleasant she was with her husband around.
"Will do," he reflexively answered, angling himself past Father Bernard as he began the long walk to the lumber mill. "Father." A cordial nod and he was off to work, leaving Father Bernard to contend with the abrupt woman alone.
Or maybe not alone, it turned out. A flash of gray hair peeking out of a room down the hall caught Father Bernard's attention.
"Hello, Dorian!" Father Bernard cheerfully called, causing the boy to freeze as he realized he'd been spotted. "Are you feeling any better today?"
"He's still sick," the boy's mother answered for him. Even a quick glance proved her assessment true. Dorian's face was nearly as gray as his hair. Mr. Wilde had explained yesterday how his son had come down with a fever and…well, some looser stool than normal. Even now, Father Bernard felt a little embarrassed thinking about it. "Thank you for your concern, but unless you're here to exorcize his illness, he needs his rest."
Despite her sarcastic tone, Father Bernard just smiled as he produced a small pouch from his pocket. "Sadly, it's nothing that fancy, but I actually came by to give you something to help with his recovery."
Mrs. Wilde hesitated for a moment, already having begun to close the door before the surprise offering was made. Sighing, she stepped out and accepted the pouch before carefully opening it to inspect the contents.
"What's in here?" She pinched out a small amount of the unidentified mixture, cautiously inspecting it as if she could, by sight alone, determine the origin. "Some sort of incense to burn for the gods?"
Father Bernard was hardly surprised at her dismissiveness. He chuckled softly before explaining its true nature. "No, but I do consider it a gift from the gods. It's a treatment I made from the leaves and roots of the Mimosa Pudica plant. Touch-me-nots," he amended, the common name of the plant drawing recognition from her. "I grow them at the church. Make him some tea with that once a day and it should help him recover a little faster."
It would also purge him of any stomach parasites, which wasn't an uncommon ailment among the village. While the tea wouldn't be quite as effective as the paste he sometimes made for himself, the bitter taste would make it a hard sell to a child. He could still remember fighting with his own son last spring to make him eat some, even after mixing in some honey he'd purchased from one of the local hunters.
"Thank you," Mrs. Wilde said, showing a rare moment of genuine gratitude before returning to her usual demeanor. "How much do I owe you for this?"
"Consider it a gift, my dear," Father Bernard hastily responded. He felt confident she'd still put a little extra in next week's offering, but one of the core tenets of his faith was to do good for others. "Or just my way of thanking your family for supporting our ministry all these years."
Mrs. Wilde brightened noticeably at the final statement, as Father Bernard expected. Some people refused to accept charity, especially the woman in front of him. Rather than try to argue or convince her she didn't need to repay the favor, it was far easier to make her think he was repaying her in some way instead.
Besides, her accepting the gift was its own reward, too. While he hadn't lied about the name of the plant, it had several other names as well. And while some of them were pretty innocuous, he rather enjoyed giving the proud woman a bag of humble plant. She'd probably throw the stuff out if she knew the other name for it - shame plant.
While he could admit to it being a little petty, even a pastor needed fun from time to time.
After giving her some specific instructions on dosage and a quick farewell, Pastor Bernard started for home. He hoped to hear some good news about Dorian in the next few days, even if the boy could be a bit of a bully. His son often complained about Dorian. Then again, he complained about many of the children in their village. It seemed some of the local boys had chosen him as their favorite target, though Father Bernard had only caught them in the act once.
Not that he hadn't believed his son before that incident. While the boy could be a little hot-tempered at times and his stories often came with some embellishment, he knew better than to outright lie to Father Bernard. He didn't miss how a few of the local boys had formed their own little clique, nor how most of the other children avoided them as best they could. It didn't take a genius to figure out that there might be a reason. And being the only faunus in the village made his son stand out a bit. Sadly, being different often came with unfair consequences.
In the end, though, it didn't matter. Father Bernard had done his best to teach his son about mercy and forgiveness. After all, you could never control the actions of others. The best thing you could do was control yourself. While the boy still had a lot of work to do in that department, he mostly behaved and did a lot to help out around the church. He probably worked harder than any other child his age in the village, but the skills he would develop would serve him well in life. Plus, having a great work ethic was critical for survival in a small village like theirs. He might complain some mornings, but his chores would help build the foundation of a solid man someday.
Speaking of chores. Father Bernard hastened home to make sure they were actually being done.
The small house behind the church was quiet when Father Bernard arrived. Perhaps a little too quiet. He opened the front door, quickly spotting his son's shoes in the entryway. Either he'd gone to the stables in his socks, or someone had overslept.
Again.
"Get up," Father Bernard instructed as he flipped on the light in his son's room. The lump beneath the covers shifted, groaning softly as it burrowed deeper into the mattress. Rather than wait, Father Bernard yanked the covers away to reveal the young boy who was meant to be checking on the horses, not curled up in his bed whining against the cold morning air.
"Dad!" he complained, trying in vain to reach the stolen sheets. "It's too early!"
"Get up." Arguing never accomplished anything. Instead, Father Bernard merely repeated his command, dropping the pile of covers on the floor nearby before heading to the kitchen to make breakfast. Sure, his son could reclaim the covers and slip back into bed, but Father Bernard trusted he would follow his instructions instead. Sure enough, he soon heard the sounds of stirring from down the hall, especially once the aroma of bacon began to fill the house.
The day proceeded as almost every one before. They ate a small breakfast together before beginning their chores. While Father Bernard tended to the garden, his son fed the horses and let them out into the pasture before cleaning the stalls. They held their morning devotional afterwards, then began lessons for the day. After lunch, Father Bernard went back into town to check in on a few people, stopping by the market on the way home to buy a few items. His return marked the end of the boy's playtime, the two of them working together to clean the church building before taking a break outside before dinner.
Though he did have a surprise for the boy today.
"So, you think you're ready to try riding her?" Father Bernard asked, nodding toward the mare grazing nearby.
"Really?"
"Why not?" Father Bernard answered the excited question. The boy's eyes widened in delight as he looked back to his horse. "You've taken care of her for over a year now. You've done well learning on Abel." Always with supervision, of course. Father Bernard's horse was about as gentle as they came, but better safe than sorry. "I think you're ready."
"Thank you!" Father Bernard stumbled a little as the young faunus crashed into him, giving him the briefest hug before rushing off to the stable. In just a few short minutes, his son had already secured the saddle and bit on Eve, bouncing eagerly beside his horse.
"Well, go ahead," Father Bernard said after playfully waiting to enjoy the enthusiasm of youth. "Make sure to get up on her left. Loosen your grip on those reins. And don't tense up! Be calm and-"
"Confident," the impatient boy finished for him. "I know. This isn't my first time."
"On Eve, it is." Not that Eve was a wild horse or anything. Father Bernard had taken her out many times himself and even let another minister ride her during a visit two years ago. While she wasn't quite as experienced a saddle horse as Abel, she wasn't green either. She was only a few years older than her new rider, which was probably part of the reason his son had been interested in her from the start.
The next two hours were spent watching his son take his first ride on Eve. Despite the boy's insistence for more, Father Bernard made sure he never went much past a canter. He would still need some work before being allowed to ride unsupervised, as evidenced by the three times Eve introduced the boy to the ground. Each time, the boy dusted himself off, assured Father Bernard he was okay, and climbed right back in the saddle. As bull-headed as ever, it would take more than a few accidental dismounts to keep him from this moment.
On the fourth falter, Father Bernard decided it was time to call it a day. "Bring her back to the stable!" he called out. When his son started to lead Eve back in disappointment, likely thinking his last failure was the cause of their sudden stop, Father Bernard hollered again. "Ride her back, son!"
After all, he wanted the day to end on a high note, not a failure.
Father Bernard spent dinner listening intently as his son described every bit of his new experience, despite the man's front row seat to the event. Still, he humored the boy, more focused on the excitement of the telling than the content of the story. While his son washed their dishes and handled the nightly watering of their plants, Father Bernard checked in on the horses for the night. Final feeding handled and fresh bedding laid, he locked up the stalls and came back to find his son already in bed, eagerly awaiting their final nightly ritual.
"So what'll it be tonight?" Father Bernard asked. "And don't say The Silver Wolf."
"Silv-" Father Bernard smiled victoriously, much to the boy's dismay. "But dad! I love those stories."
"Yes, but even a wolf needs his rest." Seeing as they'd read it for the past six nights, Father Bernard was ready for something different.
"How about something a little older?"
"One of your childhood stories?" The boy laughed as Father Bernard rolled his eyes.
"Not quite that old. I was thinking more of a story about my first time riding a horse." That certainly got the boy's attention.
Father Bernard told about how his father trained him when he was a young boy. He made sure to talk about how many times he'd fallen off, hoping it would help remove any doubts from the performance that evening. It was a simple story from a simple time.
"And just like my father trained me, I'm going to train you," Father Bernard concluded. "But that's a story for tomorrow."
"I get to ride her again so soon?"
"There's no time like the present," Father Bernard replied. "Besides, the sooner you learn, the sooner we can go on rides together. Maybe you can even accompany me to Katai someday." It was only a full day's ride away, and Father Bernard went every few months for supplies the village didn't have.
"Really?"
"Of course, son." Father Bernard ruffled the boy's hair, running his hand between the small horns atop his son's head. "Now get some sleep. We've got another busy day tomorrow."
The young faunus tucked himself in as Father Bernard headed for the door. As he flipped off the lights, his son quietly said, "Good night, dad."
"Good night, Adam."
After all those warnings, we start with some simple slice-of-life. We aren't just jumping straight into the misery. That'll come later.
Of course, we're only a chapter in and I'm already pulling my usual shenanigans. The horse names are obvious references to the Biblical Adam. The Wilde family is a loose allusion to The Picture of Dorian Gray. The son Dorian has gray hair. The mom is prideful. Their family name is Wilde (novel was written by Oscar Wilde). I tend to overdue things, but you'll get used to it.
Also, I may have spent hours researching medicinal plants before settling on Mimosa Pudica. Everything I mention, including the names, should be accurate. Wish I could claim the Humble/shame plant name was intentional, but that was just a happy accident. Still, made me laugh a bit, so it stayed in.
Anyways, that's enough from me for this week. I'm hoping to use my old schedule of updating every Friday again, though I will likely take breaks between some of the arcs as needed. No idea how long this will run, as I'm using a looser plan than In RWBY's Shadow and making some of it up as I go. But I suspect we'll still be working on this one a year from now, as we've got an entire life to work through.
Next chapter: More life in the small village, but with a bigger focus on Adam.