So I've currently got three stories up. This is number 3. The update schedule for my fics should already be up on my profile. Didn't get a whole lot of response on my Peter Port fic and I think that's because of the weird character list that no one is interested in seeing—although I think if people read the fic they might enjoy it. Its pretty absurd but interesting.

Just a thought.

Anyway.

Guitar Huntsman is an experimental fic of sorts. I write a lot of poetry, which translates okay to lyric writing. So I should be able to write some pretty interesting songs for this fic. Anyone wants to put them to music, lol, feel free.

This story is going to be a mixture of fluff, fun, and seriousness, so be ready for all three.

This first chapter is longer than future updates will be. So, don't expect them to all be in this ballpark. This thing is nearly 11k. Not my initial aim. But that happens sometimes when you're building your premise chapter.

Guitar Huntsman

So, I've been staying at

This weird hotel called life.

I've been here seventeen

Days and seventeen nights

I'm still dreading the day

When it's time to pay

End my little stay

And turn out all the lights

Cause. I've been staying. At

This. Weird. Hotel. Called. Life.

Wa-ah-oh-oh-ah-oh-oh

Wa-oh—oh-oh-oh

Wa-ah-oh-oh-ah-oh-oh

Wa-oh—oh-oh-oh

Monty Oum, save my heart

Who the hell is Jaune Arc?

Haven't got no answers

But I guess askin' is a start.

It's destiny,

They say

Just trust in me,

They say

Well

My destiny,

Can wait

The trust in me,

Can fade

But

I

Don't

think

I

can

Oh-Oh

I've got these people tellin' me

To just trust in destiny

And why can't you see

How blessed you are to be

Locked in your heredity

The owner of a legacy

Of blood and gore

And Grimm and death

And war galore

And the golden crest!

So, take your shield

And take your sword

Bear your seal

My father roared

Embrace it! Take it!

Don't forsake it!

Grab it! Have it!

Wreak some havoc!

But…

What if this hotel room…?

I want to trash it?

Wa-ah-oh-oh-ah-oh-oh

Wa-oh—oh-oh-oh

Wa-ah-oh-oh-ah-oh-oh

Wa-oh—oh-oh-oh

Monty Oum, save my heart

Who the hell is Jaune Arc?

Haven't got no answers

But I guess askin' is a start.

It's destiny,

They say

Just trust in me,

They say

Well

My destiny,

Can wait

The trust in me,

Can fade

But

I

Don't

think

I

can

Oh-Oh

But…

I…

Don't…

Think…

I…

Can…

"I wonder if he knows we can hear him," said Mathias Arc, standing before his open window, listening to his son's voice fade as he strummed his ukulele a few more times.

"I doubt it Matt," replied his wife, Willow, from their bed. She had set down her novel in favor of listening to her son's performance. "Jaune only goes up to the roof when he wants to be alone." She huffed. "Even though I've told him a hundred times not to climb up there."

Mathias exhaled roughly. He reviewed the song lyrics he had just heard. He was responsible for their somber tone. There could be no doubt of that. "Will, I'm starting to feel like the bad guy here. I'm not trying to hurt Jaune. I'm not trying to break him. I just… The burden of being an Arc—he's my only son—I'm supposed to pass it on to him."

Jaune's lilting voice began again, singing the same song to an altered melody, a little jauntier, with occasional slaps to the body of his instrument.

So, it wasn't a finished piece. He was still experimenting.

The Arc patriarch rubbed at his eyes, sure they were red.

Willow slid out of bed and padded over to him. She draped her arms over his shoulder. Standing on her toes, she pressed a gentle kiss to the base of his neck. "You're not a bad father Matt, if that's what you're thinking then stop. I know you're not in an easy position, and I think Jaune knows that too. He's smart. He knows how much you love him."

"You think?"

"You could still tell him a little more often though. He's not going to wring it out of you like the girls."

"Like you?"

"Like me," agreed Willow.

Mathias and his wife stood in amiable silence for a few minutes. Willow hummed along with their son. She was ranked second among the Arcs in terms of musical talent—Jaune taking a clear first.

When Jaune was finishing up his new rendition Willow spoke, "have you been considering...it?"

"More and more every day," replied Mathias. "I'm going to keep working on him, but I don't see much change. You should start thinking up a way to give it to him."

"Already have."

Mathias chuckled. "Of course, you have." He shook his head and muttered, "I hope I've been doing this the right way."

"You are doing your best," Willow nuzzled his neck. She stopped suddenly, the grip on his neck tightening. Her voice was just as loving as before, except for her pronunciation of one word. When she hit that word, Mathias's heart skipped a beat. "Only, I've been noticing my baby boy coming back from your training sessions with injuries. Care to explain?"

Mathias cleared his throat. "A few cuts and scrapes and bruises are no big…"

Her grip around his neck tightened.

Mathias switched tactics. "It's not my fault. He keeps doing it to himself."

"Really?" Willow's ever tightening grip on his throat evidenced that she did not believe him.

Mathias could feel his aura begin to flare, protecting him from injury.

"Really. Sometimes we aren't even training when it happens."

"Hmm…I see."

Mathias wasn't sure whether his wife believed him, but at least she wasn't choking him anymore.

Still, he should change the topic, just to be safe. "Let's go to bed."

Willow nodded. "Sure. But first, go get Jaune off the roof before he breaks his neck."

"What about my neck?" Mathias muttered. The roof was sturdy and secure. There just weren't many good ways to get up. The route Jaune used was a precarious death wish.

Come to think of it, how the hell did his clumsy son get to the roof so often without breaking both his legs?

Willow's voice was thick and sultry in his ear. "Is protecting your neck more important than being my hero?"

Whelp!

Mathias disentangled himself from his wife, stepped on their window sill, turned, crouched, leaned, and leapt towards the ledge. He scrambled onto the roof a second later.

Sometimes a man needed to do what a man needed to do.

###

"Why?" panted Jaune, raising his sword in preparation for another heavy blow.

"Because that's what it means to be an Arc. It's in your blood." The man brought his weapon down with the strength of an Ursa paw.

"W-what does that even mean!?" shouted Jaune, his knees quailed under the force.

"What does what mean?" asked his father.

"You're always saying It's in my blood this, it's in my blood that." Jaune attempted to score a hit with a sloppy slash. It was woefully ineffective. His father danced away from the strike as if he were dodging the swat of a toddler. "Blonde hair is in my blood! Blue eyes are in my blood! What I become is a choice!"

Mathias Arc scoffed at that. "Obviously, Jaune! Obviously, it's a choice! Everything important you will ever do in your life will be the result of a choice!"

Jaune flinched as his blade flew from his hand, clattering to the ground.

"Every choice you can implement—is open to you Jaune!" Mathias roared, the tip of his sword poking Jaune's sternum. "That much is true for everyone. But you also have a calling, a gift, a responsibility! You, Jaune Arc, have a destiny. I can't force you to accept it. But I sure as hell won't let you forget it."

Jaune gritted his teeth, searching for the right response. "I don't know much about destiny or gifts or callings. But if—if I have one…who says it's the same as every other Arc in history? Why do you or grandpa or anyone else get to choose that?"

Mathias exhaled deeply. More to himself than Jaune he said, "I hate this. I really do." Louder and directed at his son he said, "sword. Pick it up. Now."

Jaune looked behind him. The wooden weapon had flown a good twenty feet, skittering across the brick patio.

He wished it had broken.

He staggered towards the ligneous sword. Unfortunately, the tip of his right sneaker caught in the crevice between two bricks. He faceplanted immediately.

Jaune could feel his father's eyes burning a hole in his back.

He crawled the rest of the way to his weapon. There was warm liquid trickling out of his nose when he stood and faced his dad.

Mathias released his stance, sword dropping to his side, groaning. The tension in his voice earlier had vanished. "Damnit Jaune! You need to stop hurting yourself during these spars. Your mom doesn't believe me when I tell her ninety-five percent of your injuries are self-inflicted."

Jaune relaxed as well, his anger abating in favor of a surge of indignation. "I'm not doing it on purpose," he said defensively.

"I know you're not," said Mathias. "You're honest to a fault. And it takes a lot of fortitude to intentionally hurt yourself carrying out a deception."

Jaune nodded.

Wait.

Was his dad saying he didn't have what it took to hurt himself for a lie?

The sneaky insult was like a sharp knife being dragged slowly but lightly down his chest. The more he thought about it, the deeper the knife went.

"Let's end it here for today," said Mathias after some short deliberation.

Thank Oum. "Really? You normally want to go until the sun sets."

"Yeah, but your mother is already going to kill me over your nose. Why make it worse by keeping you out here another hour?"

Jaune tilted his head back.

"Hey, remember what I told you?", chided Mathias.

"Oh, right!" Jaune hastily looked down, letting the blood drain and then pinching his nostrils.

Figures that, only now, when he was seventeen, he would learn the proper way to deal with a bloody nose. Jaune had always been under the impression that you were supposed to cock your head back and suck the blood back in.

Apparently, among those who got bloody noses often, leaning your head back was actually a taboo.

Who would have thought? You really could learn something new every day.

"We can just wait until my nose stops bleeding. Mom doesn't have to know," offered Jaune.

Mathias shook his head. "She'll know. She always knows."

Jaune couldn't help but smile a bit at his father's fearful inflection. Part of it was for show, surely. But, knowing Willow Arc, some portion of it was genuine. "Dad?"

"What?"

Jaune licked his lips. He didn't want to reignite the "discussion" from earlier, but…

He needed to know.

"You keep saying stuff like I have a gift… That Arcs are destined to be the guardians of man… That I'm a warrior…"

"And?"

"I understand that that's how the Arcs are supposed to be. I get that. I mean—look at Crystal. Mom threatens you by saying she'll have her beat you up!"

Mathias smile didn't quite reach the upper half of his face as he chuckled. "Yeah. That's always funny."

"Right?" agreed Jaune. "So yes, I get that that's how Arcs should be. But isn't it obvious that I'm not? I'm a terrible fighter. I'm clumsy and uncoordinated. And even though my endurance is getting better I don't think I'll ever be good enough to actually hit things with my sword…" Jaune recalled yesterday's training session. "…Other than my own face."

"No one is great in the beginning Jaune," Mathias replied.

"Really?" asked Jaune, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I wonder what Grandpa meant when he said, 'Arcs take to the sword like a fish takes to water?'"

"Your Grandpa is an asshole."

Jaune's jaw dropped at that.

Mathias shrugged. "You're seventeen now. I'm not going to sugarcoat life for you. If your mother hadn't threatened to cut him off from his precious granddaughters he probably would have whisked you off into the mountains for training when you were ten. Trust me, you would not have enjoyed that. You're lucky I'm training you."

"Are you telling me that mom was the only thing stopping me from getting kidnapped by your dad?" Jaune checked his fingers. The bleed was slowing.

"Let me tell you something Jaune, something you are never to tell your mother that I told you. Okay?"

"Okay," said Jaune, curiosity piqued.

Mathias motioned for him to head over to the umbrella protected table in the corner. They sat next to each other in the refreshing shade.

"Your grandfather has always believed that Arc men need to marry strong women. Women, who are indomitable. Women who can…well produce and raise strong, tough, terrifying children. Which is why he picked out my wife for me."

"Grandpa picked out mom!?"

"God! No!" his father exclaimed, eyes widening, he held up two open hands, as if to say to some omniscient spectator that he had nothing to do with Jaune's ludicrous suggestion. "My dad picked out this…other woman. He just sent me a message one day saying, 'I have found your wife.' I had been dating your mother at that point for a couple of months. And I didn't want to make things weird between us. So, I thought I'd just keep the message a secret. But—"

"She knew," inserted Jaune.

"She always knows," agreed Mathias. "She made me tell her about the message. And then she said she'd love to meet my parents. I told her I thought it was a little early for that."

"How'd she take that?", asked Jaune, suddenly feeling uneasy about the direction this story was heading.

"Oh, she kept smiling," replied Mathias, "and then she dragged me to the CCT and forced me to call your grandmother. She was all smiles and charm—while she was on the call at least—she set up a dinner for a week later. She glared at me and stomped off when it was over."

Was it strange how easily Jaune could imagine this terrifying younger version of his mother?

"Well…" Mathias face twisted, clearly reliving the memory, "your grandfather knew I was bringing over my girlfriend. He knew that one-hundred-percent. But he still decided to invite..."

Mathias faded off.

"The other woman?" asked Jaune incredulously.

Mathias nodded. "I can't remember her name. Not that it matters. So, it was me, your mother, your grandmother, your grandfather, your aunt, and the woman my dad had decided I would marry."

"That must have been awkward," muttered Jaune.

"It was terrible. Of course, your aunt enjoyed every moment of it. Your grandfather put me at the end of the table. Willow sat to my right and…the other sat to my left. Right from the start, Grandpa ignored your mom. He kept talking to…Lara—that was her name! Oum! I am getting old..."

"What happened next?" asked Jaune impatiently.

"Where was I…? Right. Your Grandpa didn't even acknowledge your mom was there. He kept asking Lara about her accomplishments as a Huntress and her feats of strength. Aunt Mel and your grandmother asked Willow about herself—and your mom was on her best behavior—politer than I'd ever seen her—but Grandpa pretty much dominated the conversation. Then he started talking about how good Lara and I would be for each other. Your mother just kept smiling, talking to your aunt, acting all sociable…"

Jaune was leaning forward in his seat now, anxious to hear the end of this story. He had not missed his father's emphasis on the word "acting."

"And then dad started talking about what I and Lara's children would look like," Mathias hid his face in his hands. "And Lara started looking at me, started touching my hand, that sort of thing. Mel kept shooting me looks," he scoffed, "as if I could take control of this situation!" He shook his head. "I didn't really keep count, but I guess she must have been about to touch my hand for the third time when... when it happened."

Jaune noticed his father looked paler than he had a few moments ago. "What happened?"

Mathias took a deep breath as he continued, "there was a noise. Sounded like a hit, but then there was this metal bending, screeching noise. I had no idea where it came from, so I looked around. There was Willow on my right, still smiling. Nothing wrong there. Then there was my dad and mom and Mel...they were all staring at something to my left. I thought, oh Lara made that noise. But I didn't really want to look at Lara, after all, I'd been doing my best grandpa impression, trying to pretend she didn't exist. So, I looked down. And then I saw it."

"Saw what?" asked Jaune, impatient.

"A few inches from my hand was Lara's. Above her hand, holding a fork was your mother's. She'd stabbed it into Lara's aura hard enough to destroy the fork's teeth and put indents in Lara's hand."

"What?!" Jaune exclaimed. "You said she was still smiling!"

"She was." Mathias shuddered. "She still looked happy. Her voice even stayed pleasant when she said, and this is a direct quote…"

Jaune leaned in, to better here his father's lowered voice.

"'Third time's the charm bitch. If you touch my man again I'll find something with better aura penetration.'"

Jaune sputtered at that.

"I reacted the same way, sprayed a mouthful of soup all over Lara. Your mother traded her ruined fork with Lara's, picked up her napkin and started wiping my lips, telling me I was making a mess. No one said anything for a minute, probably two. Then Lara just exploded. She started screaming at Willow, saying she was going to kill her. She even broke the table."

"What did mom do?", asked Jaune. His mother was no more a warrior than he was. Well…honestly, after hearing this story, he wasn't so sure. But he was certain that she had never unlocked her aura.

"She sat there, still smiling, and just…ridiculed her. Kept calling her a barbarian and a brainless brute and…other, less kind things about her womanhood. When it finally looked like Lara might really try to kill your mom, Mel tried to show her the door. In the end, Mel had to knock her out."

That didn't shock Jaune at all. What a very Aunt Mel thing to do.

"Your mom, I kid you not, stared at Lara's unconscious body for a few seconds and then said, 'For a barbarian woman she wasn't even good at being a barbarian was she? The only thing she managed to injure…" Mathias pointed down at the table, just as Jaune imagined his mother had, "…couldn't even hit back.' Mel thought it was the funniest thing she had ever heard. Your grandmother and grandfather were whispering to each other. I was still trying to figure out what the hell had just happened." Mathias shook his head. "Turns out, while I was desperately reconsidering my relationship with the amazing psycho that is your mother, Aunt Mel had found her new best friend, and your Grandpa was telling Grandma he saw the fiercest generation of Arcs in history on the horizon."

"So, they liked mom…because she started a fight in front of them?"

"Liked her more than they've ever liked me," said Mathias without a hint of jest. "Whenever we had fights when we were dating, she'd tell Mel, Mel would tell mom and dad, and the next thing I knew my parents would be in my apartment, in my bedroom, shaking me awake, telling me to go beg for her forgiveness. And…" Mathias blanched, "…to accept my punishment."

"Punishment…?" Jaune questioned.

"It wasn't bad," said Mathias, "just exhausting. So exhausting…"

Jaune watched his father drift off into a daze. He snapped out of it a moment later. "But, don't worry about that."

Too late.

"Anyway, I think the point of all this is to say, if you ever need help dealing with your grandpa go to her. I've been trying to earn your grandfather's respect for decades. Your mother did it in the first hour she knew him. She'll stand up to him on the drop of a dime. And for some reason—he loves it—even though I got beaten for that kind of thing, even when I was basically an adult."

Mathias stroked his stubbled face, gaze distant, probably lost in a memory of his rarely discussed childhood.

Jaune imagined his grandfather beating a young Mathias, probably for the crime of answering a question unfavorably. Aside from these blasted training sessions, neither of Jaune's parents had ever hit him—nor his sisters. "You aren't raising us the same way grandpa raised you and Aunt Mel, are you?"

"I take all my parenting cues from your mother," Mathias replied mechanically.

Jaune smiled at that. As did Mathias.

Juane started drumming his fingers against the table. The rhythm was discernable. It would sound better with some drums though. Notes floated lazily through his mind. What tone? Perhaps light, airy and amusing? It was a funny story after all. But also, a terrifying one. Perhaps he should go for a sort of ironic horror sound?

"Hey! Jaune… Don't forget you agreed not to tell your mother I told you this."

Jaune refocused on his dad. The man was staring at him warily.

"Huh? Yeah, I know."

Mathias's eye's narrowed. "Obviously, that means no writing songs about it."

"I would never," Jaune lied.

The boy had never been a good liar.

"I'm serious Jaune! You cannot give your mom a hint. I repeat, not even a hint, that you know this! Not even a hint!"

"I get it. I get it. Don't sing my new song in front of mom."

"No! Don't make your new song about the story I just told you!"

"That's fine," said Jaune, amusement barely restrained. "I've been working on something else. Something I bet she'll like."

Mathias sent him a questioning look.

"Goes something like this," began Jaune. He tapped on the table a few times to give a sense of rhythm. His voice was jovial and peppy has he sang,

Bloody, blue and beaten

Sword hits me like a greetin'

Father speakin' tersely

Oh Oum! Why's he hurt me?

His elbow hits my nose

Crimson liquid flows

He kicks in my knee

Says I cannot flee

He hit the chorus.

Daddy doesn't touch the drink

Still hits me with the kitchen sink

Says it's all for training's sake

Then he lies to mama's face

Dadd—

Mathias interrupted him, his eyes wide, and mouth agape. "How long have you been planning to use that to get out of training?"

"Ten minutes. Since you told me mom thinks you're beating me up."

Mathias shook his head. "So, you can make up a full blown song in ten minutes, and you've got a voice like an angel. You sure you don't have a girlfriend?"

Jaune felt heat rush to his head.

Apparently, even the thought of his excruciating escapades with the opposite gender was enough to trigger a flood of embarrassment.

He was even starting to feel a little nauseous as well, just as he had during his last failure.

Great.

"Ah. That's right. What is it Ellie says? You only act cool at home? At school you're a—what did she call you?—a blubbering mess?"

Jaune fought through the blistering surge in his cheeks. "Maybe I should just make mom a mixtape. I could come up with a couple good songs for her to listen to while she's punishing you."

Jaune grinned.

Mathias looked a little green. "I don't think either of use wants to hear your voice while she's punishing me."

Jaune's grin slipped as he put two and two together. "Oh Oum! You meant…? Ugh! Dad!" The mental image that sprouted into Jaune's mind, unbidden, involved his parents and a lot of black leather. It was the most horrifying thing he had ever witnessed. He felt ill. So ill.

Mathias recovered first. "Maybe I should tell grandpa which bedroom is yours so he can snatch you from your window."

Mathias smirked.

Ah. That would put Jaune through hell. And it had the bonus effect of giving Willow's rage a new target. A win-win for his opponent. A brilliant move on his dad's part.

Several orders more brilliant than suggesting he make a mixtape for his parents to…,god, he could feel his lunch trying to escape his stomach.

He resisted the foul sensation in his gut. "Well pla—"

"Jaune! Where are you!? Cece's being…ugh! Jaune!"

Jaune wilted a little inside when he heard Ellie's voice. She was getting closer. "Not again."

Mathias chuckled at his defeated expression. "Duty calls?"

"I wish duty would call. Maybe it would be less intense."

The patio door rocked in its tracks when Ellie flung it open.

Ellie was Jaune's closest sister in age. She was precisely one year and three days younger than him.

But she acted thrice as imperious as his older sisters. Even when added together. She had the Arc features, blond hair—although more golden than Jaune's—and blue eyes—the same shade as his.

Their eyes were different though, despite being the same shape and size. Jaune's eyes were the normal kind. Hers burned. All the time. Sometimes the blaze was brighter—but the blaze was never absent.

Right now, her twin lakes of fire were going pretty bright.

"Jaune! Cece's being a brat! She locked herself in her bedroom and she says she won't come out!"

Jaune stared at Ellie for a moment. She met his gaze without trouble. "Why are you telling me this? Dad's right…" Jaune faded off as he looked to his father. He was slumped over the table, eyes closed, a gentle snore escaping from between his lips.

Oh, this bastard.

Quiet enough so only his father could hear Jaune said, "that one of the parenting cues you took from mom?"

Mathias's only response was an especially loud snore that sounded like a stuffed laugh.

Jaune would have said more, if Ellie had not descended upon him. She grabbed his collar and yanked him towards the door. Jaune did not bother resisting. "I'm going, I'm going."

Ellie did not release her grip on his shirt until he was walking into the house ahead of her.

###

"What happened?" asked Jaune as they walked by Crystal and Alana.

His two older sisters were sprawled out across the couch, watching their favorite show, The Real Housewives of the Mistralian Elite. He shot them a dirty look as he passed by.

No doubt they had heard the ruckus. And seen Ellie stomping by calling Jaune's name.

Why weren't they handling this?

The two girls pretended he was made of glass.

"Cece had one of her fits. And now she's crying about something."

"Cece had a fit? Over what?" Jaune questioned further.

"How should I know? She just went off the deep end!"

Jaune was suspicious immediately. Cece was the happiest, most energetic, most positive member of their family. Hands down. No contest. She was also his favorite.

Not that he had favorites.

"So Cece locked herself in her room, and now she's crying. But you have no idea why?"

"None."

"Has nothing to do with you?" Jaune squinted at his abrasive sister.

"I didn't say that. I just said I have no idea why she's behaving the way she is."

"Ellie—" Jaune began.

Ellie cut him off. "I didn't do or say anything to Cece alright? I was having a…civil discussion with Aren about her treatment of Cece. Next thing I knew Cece was in tears about something or other."

Jaune sighed. Of course, it was a combination of Aren and Ellie who had caused all of this. The two fought constantly. In age, the two were separated by the twins, but they had been sharing a room for ten years since, obviously, the twins bunked together. Jaune shivered a bit when he thought of Paige and Mist, as if the two eclectic girls had created a way to watch him through his thoughts.

Who knew?

Perhaps they had.

"Aren was being a little mean to Cece. You blew up at her about it. Cece tried to break it up. You ignored her. Now she's upset," Jaune interpreted.

"Oversimplified…" rebuffed Ellie, "…but accurate enough."

Jaune paused when they reached the top of the steps. Cece's room was third in the long line of doors. She and Jaune were the only two Arc children who did not share a room. Jaune—being the only boy. Cece—being the youngest by four years in a family full of children born in pairs.

"Where's Aren?"

"She disappeared. She said Cece would get over it eventually."

"And you came and got me."

Ellie huffed. "Well I couldn't just leave my little sister crying alone in her room, could I?"

Jaune smiled. As cold, aggressive, and downright arrogant as Ellie could be—was—, beneath the surface, she cared inordinately more than most.

Especially about her family.

"I knew there was a reason you're my second favorite sister."

"You mean aside from the fact that Cece is practically impossible to hate and that the rest of our siblings are absolutely useless wastes of space?"

"Ellie," said Jaune, with a tone indicating mock offense. "You're talking about the girls who practically raised us!"

Ellie glowered at him. "As if we would be this well-adjusted if the barbarians had a legitimate role in our upbringing."

Jaune's smile widened. A few days earlier Alana and Crystal had attempted to convince their mother that they should be allowed to do…something.

Neither Jaune nor Ellie were present for the beginning of the conversation.

But they both heard its end.

Alana claimed that she and Crystal needed to relax—after the stress of raising their siblings for more than a decade.

If Jaune had not been restraining her, Ellie would have stormed the room and laid into her errant older sisters right then.

Fortunately, he'd held Ellie back long enough for them to hear their mother break down into raucous laughter.

That had made the whole thing worth it for Jaune.

Seemed Ellie was still a little sore about it.

Who could have guessed?

"Stop smirking idiot."

Jaune rolled his eyes.

He knocked on Cece's door. There was no immediate response. "Cece? It's Jaune." He placed his ear against the door.

He heard rustling noises. A few seconds later Cece spoke.

"Jaune?"

"No you're Cece. I'm Jaune."

Cece giggled. Even Ellie's taut expression lightened when she heard it. Cece's laugh just had that effect.

"Hey Cece, I want to talk to you. Could you come out please?"

Cece answered quickly, "Sorry Juane. I can't. Sorry."

"Why not?", asked Jaune.

"I'm teaching Ellie and Aren a lesson."

Jaune gave Ellie a pointed look.

Ellie considered her words for a moment and then stepped closer to the door. "I learned my lesson Cece. I'm…I'm sorry."

Whoa. An apology? That was something only Cece could drag out of her.

Had Ellie ever apologized to Jaune?

Once.

Sort of.

Maybe?

"Where's Aren?" said Cece through the door.

Ellie replied through clenched teeth. She sounded like an Ursa gargling after a brush. "She left."

"Ah!" exclaimed Cece, "I can hear it! You still hate each other!"

"I don't hate Aren Cece. Just because we fought doesn't mean I hate her!"

Cece ignored Ellie's logic. "I'm not gonna open the door until you don't hate each other anymore!"

Ellie groaned and stomped away.

Jaune watched her go, surprised she'd given up so easily. He turned back towards the shut door. How was he going to finagle this? "How about this Cece…You don't come out…But I come in?"

"You want to come in?", confirmed Cece uncertainly.

"That's right. We can teach Ellie and Aren a lesson together."

Cece considered his proposal in silence.

"No!"

What? He'd had her. He was certain of it! "Why not?" he asked calmly.

"Cause you're Ellie's underwing!"

"What?" said Jaune.

"Aren says you used to be cool but now you're just Ellie's underwing."

Underwing? Ah. Underling. Aren was telling people that he was Ellie's underling. Well that just wasn't true. "Listen Ce—"

He was interrupted by a voice to his right. "Here." It was Ellie. His ukulele rested in her hands. "Sing her out."

"You know a song was coming to me, but it's more of a guitar piece."

Ellie pushed the ukulele into his hands, "modify it. You know Cece loves it when you play this."

Jaune took the instrument without further complaint. She was right, Cece did prefer it when he played the ukulele. Plus…Ellie had told him to and he felt as if he didn't have a choice in the matter.

Maybe he was an underling.

But Ellie was an absolute slave driver—why would he subject himself to that?

Was he…perhaps…

A masochist?

Huh.

Something to think about later, for sure.

"Cece, are you mad right now?"

"Yes," the girl huffed through the door.

"Okay, that's fine. But let's play a game."

"A game?" The girl's voice gained a perceivable perkiness as she replied. She returned to suspicion a few seconds later. "What game?"

"It's simple," said Jaune, "I'm going to sing you a song. If you smile, I win. Then you open the door. If you don't smile, you win. And I'll bake you some treats to eat up here—whatever kind you want."

"Fudge, banana, walnut brownies?", questioned the girl.

Jaune shared a quick grimace with Ellie. The girl looked equally revolted by their baby sister's favorite dessert. "Sure thing."

"Alright," said Cece, eventually, "I'll play, but your song better not be funny! Or happy!"

Jaune rolled his eyes at that. "Ready?"

"Ready!"

Oh Cece…

###

Mathias Arc stood on the steps, just outside of Jaune and Ellie's awareness.

Alana and Crystal had informed him that there'd been a fight or a spat or a murder upstairs, both claiming they were too tired from huntress training to go investigate.

Of course, training had been halted for the summer and would not resume for another week. The two girls had been lazing around for nearly two months.

When Mathias pointed out as much the two girls had explained that it was not recent training that had physically exhausted. But the mental exhaustion of an entire year. It was the kind of exhaustion that took months to recover from.

Mathias left the bull-shitters where they lay.

Mathias blamed the Arc genes.

There was too much talent in them.

The two girls could slack off for months on end and still go back to Atlas in the fall, standing at the top of their class—in combat at least.

That was how it had always been for the Arcs.

Easy.

Every Arc child in history took to killing Grimm like, well… to borrow his bastard of a father's terminology, a fish to water.

Not every Arc became a huntsman or a huntress. They were too old and large of a family for that to be true.

But most did.

And those that didn't embrace the choice Arc career were still athletic and graceful, a clear cut above civilians and even most professional athletes.

But as Mathias Arc stood on those steps, he could not help but think Jaune had been born with more talent than any other Arc—ever.

Sure. None of that talent was focused on combat. Or even strength or speed or grace. Jaune had endurance, but that was it.

And endurance alone made for a punching bag, not a warrior.

But despite all of that, as he listened to Jaune's lilting voice, crooning an amusing ditty about "Cece the superhero", realization dawned on him.

Jaune had something special.

His voice was…

Well…

It wasn't just good.

It was extraordinary.

It was unlike anything Mathias had heard before.

Jaune had something amazing.

Would Jaune give it all up if Mathias kept pushing? Would he give up his dream to make his parents proud? Would he abandoned what he loved to carry on a legacy he had not asked for nor wanted?

Possibly.

Probably even.

Jaune was always eager to please.

The more Mathias considered it the surer he became.

Yes.

Yes, he would.

Jaune would give up everything for them.

And there was something distinctly intolerable about that truth. It tasted dirty in Mathias's mouth. It felt like bile going down and burned like acid in his belly.

When Jaune's song came to an end and Cece reluctantly exited her room, complaining, "you weren't allowed to make it funny!" Matthias turned and quietly padded down the stairs.

He went straight to the kitchen. His wife was hard at work—dinner for ten was never a simple affair.

She smiled at him when he entered and then returned her attention to the meal she was preparing. "Do you know where Ellie went? She was helping me but then…"

"Justice rang and she never misses a call?" supplied Mathias.

Willow's soft smile deepened. "Exactly."

"She and Jaune are looking after Cece."

"Ah." She tasted some sauce and then deposited the used spoon in the sink. "Could you tell Alana and Crystal to come help me then?"

"It would take an act of Oum to get those two off the T.V." Mathias began rolling up his sleeves, "I'll help you."

"Thank you. Although, if you told Alana and Crystal I needed their help I'm sure they would turn off the T.V.

Left unsaid was the implication that she would destroy the T.V. if they did not.

"It's fine. I have something I need to talk with you about anyway."

"Oh? So do I. You first."

"Well…It's Jaune."

"Shocking," she teased with a grin.

"I think…well I think it's time we show it to him."

Willow froze. "You want to—"

"Yes," he interrupted, "I'm done trying to turn him into something he's not. He was clearly born to do it. I'll be damned before I get in the way of that any more than I already have. Let's do it tonight."

Willow's smile was all love and joy. Warmth spread through Mathias's chest. Why was it when she smiled—really smiled—he turned into a little boy?

"I'll call a family meeting after dinner. Make sure the video camera is charged. I want the look on his face recorded."

"You know—"

It was Willow's turn to cut him off. "Yes, I know scrolls have cameras Mathias. But I want the video to look good. After all, this could be in a documentary one day."

Mathias chuckled at the thought. "I'll go plug it in then. What was it you wanted to tell me?"

Willow paused. "Ah. That's right. Could you go check on the twins? I heard them whispering something about 'twincest' and giggling earlier."

Mathias froze. He could feel the color leaking out of his face. "W-what?"

"I said 'twincest' dear. It's incest, only with—"

"I gathered!" Mathias exclaimed.

Willow raised an amused brow when she saw his flustered expression. "I don't think it's quite what you're imagining Matt. Paige and Mist, alone—"

"Stop!" Mathias held up a shaking hand.

"—whatever it is they're planning definitely involves Jaune…"

If it was even possible for Mathias to discolor more...

Then he did.

Willow let him die inside for a little longer before saying, "I'm sure it's another one of their pranks Matt. Oum. I just want you to make sure they don't destroy anything again."

Prank? The word revitalized the huntsman, sending a jolt of relief through him.

Of course, prank.

That made sense.

Prank.

Still… Mathias clenched his fists as he remembered what his father had told him when he was a kid.

He had been complaining about training at the time.

"You'd best stop whining ya' brat! This is already a hundred times softer than my training was. You're lucky you were born now and not in the times of our ancestors. Sure there were Grimm aplenty back then. But…"

The old man smiled maliciously.

"You'd also be married to Mel!"

"What!?" a voice roared before Mathias could assemble a thought.

Mathias glanced over at Mel, struggling under her own brutal training regime.

It took Mathias near a minute to comprehend what his bastard of a father had just said. "What!?" he roared.

"Bloodline purity. Blah. Blah. Blah. My point is stop acting like you've got it hard. Both of you. But especially you Mathias."

Mathias stared at his sister with horror. She looked similarly disgusted.

"How could they?" asked Mel.

Their father was unusually silent for a moment. "Well…apparently…it was…easier for some Arcs than others."

"What?"

The bastard looked uncomfortable, scratching his blonde beard uncertainly. Even as he gave his usual beloved self-indulgent explanation, stressing the greatness of the Arc line—he looked as if he'd rather be talking about something else. "Well… it can be difficult for an Arc to find a suitable partner, given the magnificence of the Arc line…so…selecting a partner from within the line was…" He trailed off.

Mathias just stared at his father, waiting for him to finish.

"He's saying our ancestors were related and didn't even need encouragement to smash. And he's saying it's an Arc thing."

Mathias looked away from Mel, towards his father. There was no way that's what his dad was saying was there?

Rictus Arc, a man who had stared down Goliaths, Dragons, and terrors Mathias had not even heard of...

…would not meet his eyes.

"What the f—"

"Mathias!"

Mathias Arc returned to his kitchen, to the present, to his wife, who was not, as far as he knew, in any way related to him. "Huh?"

"You've been staring into the distance for more than a minute now. Are you okay?"

"Fine," Mathias lied. "I'm gonna go check on the twins."

"Don't forget about the camera," Willow called after him.

Mathias took the stairs two at a time.

###

"You forgot to charge the camera," whispered Willow, a hint of exasperation present in her voice.

Mathias winced. His voice was low as he replied, "I'm sorry. I went to check on the twins, and I realized it had been a while since I had a good talk with them and I just…"

"Did that talk set your mind at ease?" asked Willow.

"Not at all," answered Mathias, "I completely regret having it, and I am now twice as concerned."

Willow covered her smile with a hand. Of course, the conversation had only made things worse. Those girls had detected his distress and immediately set out to make it worse. That was what they did. They messed with people. Jaune was their favorite target, but they'd settle for Mathias any day. She would have her own talk with them later, since Mathias seemed so concerned. And if they tried to play around with her…

She'd break their game.

"We can deal with that later. For now…" She quieted as she watched their two eldest daughters arrived the room.

Willow surveyed her family. Jaune and Ellie were seated on the small couch on the far side of the room. Jaune was relaxed, an acoustic guitar in hand. Ellie was, as always, more rigid, dedicated to maintaining her posture even in the least formal of environments. Cece was seated in Ellie's lap, and, although Ellie's steely face gave few signs, Willow could tell the older girl was pleased by her baby sister's presence. Aren's hair was freshly curled, and the robe she was wearing revealed one shaved leg and another half. Little wonder she looked irritated by the unannounced meeting. Crystal and Alana were sprawled out across the larger couch. The two reprobates produced their scrolls immediately. That was fine, Willow would make sure they put them away when she wanted them to. Paige and Mist were sat in front of the couch. The pair adopted near identical poses. Mist had Paige's hand in hers. She was nibbling on her sister's knuckles, moving from joint to joint, tongue occasionally darting out to make the contact all the more explicit. And she was looking very pointedly at Mathias. Paige had her hand on Mist's thigh and her eyes locked on her sister. She kept biting her lip in an exaggerated fashion, as if she was enthralled by Mist's ministrations.

Mathias was literally looking anywhere but his third and fourth daughter.

Yep.

Mathias's conversation had shown weakness, a critical error for a parent of a brood this size. Not only had he bled in the water. He'd started bleeding in front of the two biggest predators in the lake.

Second biggest.

Second biggest predators in the lake.

Sometimes one forgot to add oneself to the list.

Willow smiled at her identical daughters.

It was not a smile of encouragement. It was a dare.

The two, wisely, did not accept.

Mist dropped Paige's hand the moment her eyes met her mothers.

Willow continued to smile at her.

Mist nudged her sister. Paige noticed her mother's face. Suddenly there were a few more inches between the girls and their hands were being kept to themselves.

Willow was almost disappointed by the easy resolution. It had been a while since one of her children had accepted taken the challenge.

Perhaps…

Could it be…?

Were they…

Were they learning?

Shocking.

The ability to learn was something she had come to expect only from three-eighths of her children.

"Kids," Willow began, "I promise this won't take up much of your time. Your father and I just felt the whole family should be here for this."

Alana raised her hand.

"It's not a baby announcement. Your father and I are done."

Alana dropped her hand, muttering, "Never heard that before."

Willow ignored her. "Jaune."

Jaune looked up from his guitar. "Mom?"

"Your father and I have something to…show you." She reached behind her, producing a thick white envelope.

Jaune's brows were downturned. He had the same confused expression as his father. Willow loved how much her son took after her husband.

"A few months ago, your father and I decided to send some videos of you playing to… a friend of a friend."

"The dean of The Vale Academy of the Arts," inserted Mathias.

Jaune's eyes bugged and his mouth widened. "The Vale Academy of the Arts!?" he exclaimed.

"That's right," said Willow, eating up her son's excitement.

"Is that their response?" asked Jaune, voice wavering as he set aside his guitar.

"Mhmm," replied his mother, "want to know what it says?" She waved the envelope back and forth.

Jaune's eyes tracked it, unblinking. Every eye in the room was on him, even Mist's and Paige's.

"I. Um. Well, yes. I want to know what it says but…" He looked at his father. "Does it matter?"

Mathias met his eyes unflinchingly. "I told you Jaune, every choice you can implement is open to you."

"But you also said I had to think about my gift and my calling and my responsibilities as an Arc..." said Jaune.

Mathias hummed, clearly pleased that his son had been listening. "I did say that. And I meant it. And I believe it. But I've been trying to bend that advice. Make it so that it affects you the same way it affected me. That's not fair. You shouldn't be bound by some ancient legacy your great great great great great grandfather established. Your gift is music. Your responsibility, your duty—the only way you can make sure your blessing doesn't go to waste—is to become a musician. The greatest musician the Arc line has ever seen."

Willow watched her son's face as Mathias spoke. His emotions had yet to spill over the top. He was still in shock. Surprise was etched onto him as if it had been placed there by his sculptor. A Beowolf could have charged into the room at that moment. She doubted Jaune would have flinched.

"What about the Arc legacy?" asked Jaune, in a daze.

"Eh," responded Mathias, "One of your older sisters will just have to keep her last name when they get married to an Arc approved man."

Alana and Crystal had words for their father, but Willow paid them no mind. She kept her attention focused on her son's frozen face.

"Jaune?" she prompted.

"Uh," replied Jaune.

Willow strode forward, elbow locked, letter extended. "Here."

Jaune accepted the letter with all the haste of molasses. "Thanks," he said absent-mindedly.

Willow, along with the rest of the Arc family, watched Jaune in silence. He, in turn, stared at the envelope in his hands, making no move to open it.

After nearly two minutes of inaction Ellie prompted Cece to get off her lap. "For goodness sake." With little spectacle, she snatched the envelope from her brother. Before anyone could stop her she tore open the parcel.

"Ellie!" Aren raged, as put off by Ellie's abrasiveness as ever. Ellie paid no mind to her younger sister.

Willow could have stopped her. She could have stopped her with a word.

But—goddamnit!—she wanted to know what the letter said too!

Ellie unfolded the paper but, in a surprising display of restraint, did not read, instead she thrust it back at Jaune. "Don't leave us in suspense moron."

Jaune snapped back into reality at that. He accepted the letter.

"Out loud, Jaune," Willow encouraged.

"I-I can't," said Jaune.

Ellie's restraint vanished. She snatched the letter back. She read in a high and clear voice.

"Dear Mr. Arc, we here at the VAA enjoyed your audition videos tremendously. As you may be aware, our student base is primarily comprised of musicians who have received intense musical training since early childhood. And even then, many of those so-called prodigies do not pass our screening process.

For this, you should have no small measure of pride. You passed our screening process by a spectacular margin. After the screening process, our upper staff members had the opportunity to watch your videos.

I do not exaggerate when I say that the teachers of VAA are the greatest musicians of this generation, lauded from all corners of remnant. They are the best artists and critics to be found in the field.

It is these elites, these giants, that you enthralled with your voice, instrument handling, and composition.

We pride ourselves on accepting only the best of the best—the elite of the elite.

Therefore, Mr. Arc, it is my pleasure to invite you to The Vale Academy of the Arts.

We look forward to helping you grow.

We will see you on the 29th.

-D. August"

The Arc family exploded all at once. Willow could not contain her glee. Her son was going to the VAA!

Mathias was grinning from ear to ear.

Cece was cheering.

Aren was smiling at her older brother, with a rare dose of genuine affection.

Alana and Crystal were joking about how well they had raised him.

Mist and Paige were crawling towards him—only Oum knew what they were about to do.

Ellie was…well she was looking at Jaune with concern. Willow followed her worried gaze. The mother-of-eight's smile wilted when she saw her baby boy's expression. She expected tears of joy, a smile, laughter, maybe disbelief—maybe even an excited dance. She expected many things from her expressive son.

The conflicted expression, wavering between sadness and happiness was not among her expectations.

He didn't know how to feel. He was confused. Willow could see that much.

But why?

Wasn't this what he wanted?

A few seconds later, Jaune schooled his features. He smiled, although his usually goofy grin looked fake, plastic, and artificial.

Ellie had noticed. Had anyone else? Willow observed her other family members. It didn't seem they had. They offered various congratulations. Mist hopped into Jaune's lap and kissed his cheek—much to Mathias's obvious horror. His horror only doubled when Paige did the same thing from the other side.

Willow did not have to step in, since one of the twin's hair happened to flick into Ellie's face.

Ellie bodily removed them both, reprimanding, "don't be obnoxious."

That was her little force of nature, Ellie, the only girl among her offspring Willow trusted to become a mother. Well, there was Cece too, but she was too young to really tell. Next best after her would be…

Jaune?

"Guys this is amazing, so amazing…" said Jaune. Willow could barely hear him over the roar.

Before she could command the room to be quiet Ellie took control.

"Hey!" she shouted. The room went silent.

Willow expected Ellie to allow Jaune to speak.

But when she took control, she took complete control.

"Jaune is obviously very excited about his acceptance into The Vale Academy of the Arts. As he should be," she growled that bit, "but he wasn't feeling very well before this meeting, and he's clearly only getting sicker. So," she stood, gripping Jaune's arm, forcing him to follow her, "he's going to bed."

"I a—?"

"Say goodnight."

"Goodnight…?"

Ellie bent, picked up Jaune's guitar, and then the two were gone, Ellie marching to her own beat as always. And Jaune dragged along to her tune, as per usual.

The rest of the Arcs remained quiet when the two disappeared.

Willow had never been prouder of one of her daughters than she was at that moment.

The rest were probably taken aback by the sudden exit.

Aren was the first to break the silence.

"Guess sick leave isn't optional for Ellie's underlings. You should take that into consideration before you sign up Cece."

###

Jaune stumbled after Ellie all the way to his room. She practically threw him inside, gently closing the door behind them.

"What the hell was that!?" she hissed.

"W-what?", asked Jaune, uncertain why his sister sounded so angry. He was also disconcerted by how easily he had allowed himself to be extracted from the gathering downstairs.

"You just got accepted into the best music school in the country, something you've literally been dreaming about your entire life, but you look like someone just snapped your guitar over their knee."

Jaune noticed his guitar, still firmly within his irate sister's grip. His eyes widened. Surely, she wouldn't…

Ellie followed his panicked gaze down to the instrument in her hands. She scoffed. "I'm not going to break your guitar you idiot." She handed him the guitar and strode towards his bed. She sat down with her normal flawless posture, back straight, spine perfectly aligned. She adjusted her light blue skirt and then rested one leg on top of the other.

She almost looked like a young teacher, staring down a miscreant child. The illusion was only ruined by the casualness of her bare feet.

"Tell me what's wrong."

It was not a request.

Sure, Jaune could have resisted. He could have told her he was fine.

But that would just turn into a power struggle. And the only Arc who could outlast Ellie in a battle of willpower was their mother. And the only reason that contest didn't just turn into a stalemate was because of Ellie's utmost respect for the matriarch. Ellie was the only one in the family, who "conceded" to her. Everyone else was just…

Conquered.

"You're right, I should be happy. I should be excited. I should be…"

"Ecstatic."

"Yeah. Ecstatic," Jaune repeated.

"So, why aren't you?"

Jaune stared up at the ceiling, trying to sort his thoughts. The Vale Academy of the Arts wanted him.

Jaune.

Jaune Arc.

Dabbler in the arts—at best.

It was a dream wrapped in a dream riding on a wish.

And that letter, it sounded as if it had been personally written. Maybe by the dean. Maybe by the dean's assistant. Maybe every potential student was sent a custom letter.

It didn't matter.

What mattered is what it made him feel.

Validated. Justified. Special.

And yet…

All of those wonderful positive emotions.

And he still couldn't feel happy.

Why was that?

"Dad's been on me a lot lately, about the responsibilities of being an Arc. About my calling, my destiny. All of that. Keeps shouting at me about it when we're training."

"And?"

"I'm pretty terrible at it. Training that is. Dad says I can take a beating but can't dish one. He's right. I'm a terrible fighter."

"Does that matter? You want to be a musician. Your fighting ability is irrelevant."

"Yeah, that's what I keep telling him. 'I'm not a fighter! I'm not a warrior!'." Jaune shook his head. "But there's this one word he keeps throwing around that I can't get out of my head."

"Let me guess," said Ellie, "'hero'."

"No it's—how'd you know?"

"You used to talk about being a hero all the time Jaune, before you fell in love with music. Even now you still occasionally bring it up."

"Oh."

"So, let me get this straight." Ellie pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "You want to be a huntsman now?"

"No!" Jaune nearly shouted. "At least, I don't think so. It's just. Dad basically said he was fine with me pursuing music down there. And that's great! But what if he was right all along? What if it really is my destiny to be a hero? To help people? Are people going to die because I was selfish? Am I not going to have the strength to stand when someone needs to? When it seemed like dad was going to force me to be a huntsman, I wasn't happy per say. But it was out of my hands. I was letting the cards fall where they may. And it just so happened they were falling in a way where I'd be strong enough to protect the people important to me. Now it feels like mom and dad just handed me the deck and said, 'deal yourself a hand!' And I don't know what to do. Do I accept destiny? Do I reject it, and make my own way?"

Ellie sighed. "You don't actually believe in this destiny nonsense do you Jaune?"

"What if I do?" said Jaune, more than a little defensive.

"Let the cards fall where they may…" Ellie repeated his words in quiet consideration. "Alright Jaune. You want to be led by destiny or fate or whatever, right?"

Jaune nodded, although he was still put-off by her dismissive tone.

"Fine then. Get on your computer. Right now."

His sister's tone brokered no argument. Jaune scrambled to obey. He sat down at his desk, pushing his sound board and mixers aside as he started his computer.

"Go to the website for a combat school," said Ellie. "What's the one in Vale?"

"Beacon," said Jaune.

"Okay, go there, and click on admissions. They probably have a form or something right?"

"Ellie, admissions to Beacon probably closed months ago."

"Doesn't matter," replied Ellie. "We'll send in your application anyway. Then you can rest easy, 'let the cards fall where they may.' Your talent and passion for music got you into the best music school on Remnant. Let's see if your lackluster fighting skills and pathetic absence of experience can get you into a high-level combat school. If being a heroic huntsman is really your destiny—I'm sure fate or Oum or someone will make a way."

It didn't take long for Jaune to find Beacon's admission page. As predicted the top of the page had a red warning, indicating Beacon's admission period had ended four months prior. Still, it looked like he'd be able to fill out and submit the form—even if no one ever looked at it.

"This is crazy," muttered Jaune as he typed in his basic information. His name. His birth date. His blood type. His email address. There were a few other fields. All basic stuff.

Once he finished with his personal information the questions got harder. "It asks for my previous combat school."

"Make something up," said Ellie without hesitation. "This school's called Beacon. Your old one was called…Signpost."

"Signpost…" repeated Jaune. He laughed as he typed it in. "That's pretty good."

"It wants three references from the school."

"Me, myself, and I," suggested Ellie.

Jaune laughed much harder this time as he followed her suggestion. "Am I even trying to get accepted?"

"Jaune, the only way you're getting accepted into Beacon is if they've got a music program. But at least now you can tell Destiny you threw it a bone. Okay?"

Jaune smiled at his sister. The smile she returned was several sizes smaller than his but massive for her.

"Now, how long is this application?"

Juane glanced at the numbers on the bottom of the page. "There's twenty-one more sections."

Ellie turned and stretched herself across his bed. "Looks like this will be a long night. Let's come back to the boring stuff. Is there anything more interesting to fill?"

Jaune scrolled through the sections. "Here's an essay question, describe your weapon and how you would wield it in a fight against three Beowolfs."

He looked back at Ellie, his witty muse. She lifted a leg towards the ceiling, pointing her toes as she thought. "Let's make your weapon a pencil. A sharp pencil…"

Jaune grinned as he typed.

He could always trust Ellie to bring him out of a slump.

###

Jaune awoke with a moan. His neck was sore, as was his back. Where had he fallen asleep?

Oh right. His desk. He wiggled his computer mouse, bring his screen out of hibernation.

He glanced behind him Ellie was fast asleep, head resting on one of his two pillows, the other clutched to her chest like a stuffed animal.

She looked so calm and delicate when she was asleep. It was a stark contrast from reality. The girl began to stir and fidget. Was just looking enough to rouse her from sleep?

Jaune turned back to his computer. A notification at the bottom of his screen caught his attention.

He had an email.

Jaune clicked on the icon. He was vaguely aware of Ellie yawning, stretching, and sitting up behind him.

"Good morning Jaune."

Jaune did not reply.

"Jaune, I said good morning."

Still, Jaune remained silent, his attention glued to the screen, his eyes flickering across the words before him.

Ellie, ready for a fight even fresh from sleep, stood and stalked over to him. "Jaune, I s—"

"Ellie," Jaune interrupted. "Read this."

His sister stared at the email over his shoulder. He watched her face. Her expression transformed from irritated, to intrigued, to shocked. Her eyes were dilated. Her lips were pursed.

"Well Jaune, you shouldn't have left this up to destiny. Destiny apparently likes to screw with Arcs."

"What am I going to do?" asked Jaune.

"Don't ask me. You're on your own," said Ellie.

Jaune could tell she didn't mean it.

Because she didn't leave his side.

He turned back to his monitor, rereading the damning message.

He'd thrown fate a fastball.

Fate had smacked him in the face with a bat.

Rictus,

Is the new Arc generation here already?

Oum forbid, are we getting old?

Anyway…

What is this application? At least with Mathias and Mel you tried to forge the transcript. This, I can't even pretend to be fooled by.

Honestly, I'm not sure why you would send another Arc warrior here. Mathias and Mel were already the level of fourth year students by the time they started Beacon.

I understand that the title of Beacon graduate carries weight in this world…

But enduring the training of Rictus Arc should be considered equivalent to graduating from Beacon, or higher even, after all, the risks we allow our students to take is nothing compared to the abuse your pupils undergo.

I still remember Mathias's "flashback" problem.

All of this said, of course Jaune Arc is welcome at Beacon. It will require some work, making the necessary arrangements. And turning this lazy admission form into a forgery that will deceive Glynda will take several hours that could be better spent…

And will also require me to risk being hamstrung.

Have your protégé to Beacon by the 29th of this month. That way he can begin showing up other students and "building the Arc name for a new generation." Or whatever it is you'll be having him do at school.

Am I correct in assuming you did not bother to teach this one restraint either?

At least we'll have an Arc around again to keep everyone else humble.

Airships for the school leave at 8:00 AM. Don't miss initiation. Not again.

Sincerely,

Ozpin

Jaune's head hit his keyboard.

Destiny was a bitch.

This chapter was just the introduction. It's going to get more interesting, I promise!

As always, no time to edit thoroughly and no beta so...eek.

Let me know what you think about this fic.

Once again. Update schedule, my profile. Check it out.

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Next Chapter: September 20th

For those wondering (I'll put these at the end of their respective fics in the future)

The Shield of Vale Next Chapter: September 16th

The Port Chronicles Next Chapter: September 23rd