Chapter Text
This...is the story of how I died.
Don’t worry, this is actually a very fun story.
And the truth is, it isn’t even mine.
This is the story of a man named Clover.
And it starts with semblances.
Semblances, for those of you not in the know, are abilities that each and every individual in Remnant has. They can make you go faster, shiftshape, and all sorts of other things -- they can even manifest and activate without the person thinking about it.
For the forces of good who work to make Remnant a haven for all, semblances can be a real blessing.
But that’s the thing about good forces. They can’t exist unless there’s something they need to be good against. And what the kingdom of Remnant was against was itself against the very essence of goodness itself.
Salem was a witch bathed in darkness. Her semblance gave her the ability to conjure up and control armies of these things called Grimm.
What are Grimm, you may ask?
Imagine animals, and then imagine what they’d look like if they somehow survived a volcanic eruption, a typhoon, and an earthquake all at the same time.
Yeah, those are Grimm.
And Grimm don’t like humans.
Neither did Salem.
Salem’s attempts to defeat the kingdom of Remnant with her army of monstrous Grimm, while never successful, also never stopped coming. Even if it looked like things were calm, folks in Remnant always knew Salem was plotting her next attack in the shadows.
Okay, I know, I know, I’m getting off topic here. This story’s about Clover.
Trust me -- I’m getting to him.
Remnant had a general -- one high in renown -- and he had a family. This family wasn’t one unified by blood, but was grafted together like a tree.
General Ironwood had adopted four little children, and was ready to add yet another to the family -- an infant whose parents were stolen from him by the cruelties of an apathetic, yet powerful fire. But against all odds, the child was spared. And so Ironwood did the only kindness to this child he could think of -- adopting him into his family.
That baby...was Clover.
On the day Clover entered the general’s home, and for all the days that followed, it became clear that luck was to the child in much the same as breathing was to you and me. Surrounded by his new father and siblings and the love they birthed inside of him, Clover seemed to make improbabilities of fortune the norm wherever he went. Lost pets returned to neighbors, supplies for shops arrived earlier than expected just as they were most needed, potted plants came back to life -- every day brought some kind of new miracle to those Clover interacted with.
It was only a matter of weeks until specialists confirmed what Ironwood had started to suspect.
The child’s...Clover’s semblance...was good luck -- a luck that imprinted itself on those that Clover loved. And while it of course couldn’t be counted on just on its own to ensure changes, in its existence lived the possibility of incredible triumphs for their fair land.
When Clover’s semblance was announced to the people of Remnant, the kingdom rejoiced, hoping to be blessed by Clover’s good luck and prosper for many years to come.
To celebrate his semblance, General Ironwood and Clover’s brothers and sisters released green floating lanterns with clover-shaped insignias into the sky on Clover’s birthday, and Clover himself was gifted with an emerald encrusted clover-shaped brooch.
...It was something his oldest sister Harriet shortly after suggested that he might be too young to really appreciate, so Ironwood decided to hold onto it until later on.
After all, they were all a family now, a family with a lifetime’s worth of memories to look forward to making.
For that one moment, everything was perfect.
And then that moment ended.
You see, whereas the good people of the kingdom saw naught but opportunities in Clover’s semblance to better their kingdom, Salem’s group of miscreants saw the semblance as nothing but a danger to their mission to destroy it.
And one of Salem’s cronies wanted to do something about that.
Tyrian Callows was worse than a snake in the grass -- he was a scorpion in the grass. Born with a venomous stinger for a tail and a personality even more toxic than that -- well, let’s just say he didn’t really fit in with the people of Remnant.
But when people don’t fit in with those Remnant, they sometimes find that they do fit in with Salem.
Tyrian worshipped Salem from the second she first acknowledged his pitiful existence. Whereas many of Salem’s forces needed to be courted by her at least a little, Tyrian threw himself into his services for her after just one conversation.
The only problem with Tyrian’s little obsession was that he had competitors for Salem’s affections and attention -- her litany of other supporters. Unfortunately for Tyrian, he was about as on good terms with Salem’s other goons as he was with just about anyone in Remnant, so if he wanted to get closer to Salem, he’d need to do it on his own.
And with Clover’s new semblance on display for all, and optimism pouring into the kingdom like water out of a freshly-filled pitcher, Salem’s good graces were harder and harder to get into by the day.
Yes, Tyrian, it seemed was out of luck.
But then, he realized something -- there was a surefire way to change that.
Not two weeks after Clover’s semblance was revealed, something happened that would swerve Remnant’s destiny into a dark territory no one in the kingdom could ever have expected it to fall into.
It was a cold, windy night when Tyrian struck General Ironwood’s home. Clover’s room was perched on the top floor of the house -- three stories up -- but Tyrian’s tail was more than up to the task.
When Tyrian approached the darkened room, only given life by the soft sounds of Clover’s snores, he could tell that the theft was almost too easy.
And it was.
By the time General Ironwood was woken by a wooden plank destroyed during the escape, it was too late.
Tyrian, as well as his precious son, were gone.
Cries escaped from the now broken apart family as realizations struck the five of them that their son and brother had disappeared.
Soldiers ran into the nearest woods as far as just about anyone could to search for Clover’s kidnapper, but to no avail.
As Tyrian continued to run away from the kingdom’s guards, he discovered something. Clover and the implications of his existence gave Tyrian more than just a victory -- he gave him a choice. While his original plan was simply to take Clover and bring him to Salem to do what she wished from there, happily taking the bit of goodwill the kidnapping would grant him, another option arose, one Tyrian decided was well worth investing in.
Years ago, long before Tyrian first laid eyes upon Salem, he found an old and deserted tower, masked well by the surrounding forest, and far enough from all as to never be found.
This tower had been Tyrian’s home for some time, and after that night, it would house another.
Yes, the newly self-appointed “Uncle Tyrian” would raise Clover, and take all the luck he was provided by Clover’s love all for himself.
So he did.
Tyrian hid the truth, carefully painting a narrative for Clover of a hostile world that only wanted to take advantage of him for his semblance, and the tower he was confined to as the sole safe haven from the evils of man -- a final gift from his late father that was by his plea never to be left by Clover.
And Clover, under the guise of living in a loving home, believed him.
But the walls of that tower couldn’t hide everything.
Each and every year, on his birthday, General Ironwood and his children continued to release those very green lanterns that once celebrated Clover into the sky, and the people of the kingdom -- by the thousands -- joined them in solidarity, hoping one day that their efforts would bring the lost child home.
While afraid of the world, Clover, as drawn to the windows that led to the world outside his tower as a fly to a pot of honey, gazed at them each and every year on his birthday from the tower’s sole window. As those lanterns lit up Clover’s lonely world, they inspired something in him, something stronger than all the fear of the outside world his “uncle” could ever hope to instill in him -- a dream to one day see them up close for himself and discover their hidden meaning.
And on Clover’s twenty-first birthday, he finally would.