Chapter Text
Jaune expected many things when he first set foot in Beacon and feared a thousand more. It wasn’t uncommon for future students to worry on the day of the initiation, but Jaune’s reasons were unique. After all, not only he had no prior experience in combat or even the most basic training, but his transcripts were completely fabricated. Truth be told, ever since he first opened his eyes this morning he was afraid. Afraid that they saw through his lies from the start and that the headmaster was simply waiting for a good moment to dramatically expose him and expel him like a fraud he was.
That did not happen, thankfully. Instead, his fear of being caught red handed was quickly replaced by visceral fear for his life for he was launched off the face of a cliff. In that split moment, as his body flew through the cold morning air and the great green forest passed underneath him, Jaune was overtaken by pure panic. He flailed his arm in frantic fashion, as if he did so hard enough he would’ve managed to latch onto something and survive, all the while his vocal chords strained from screaming.
His short flight came to a sudden end, when a spear pierced his hood and he became carried with its inertia, until it lodged in a tall old tree and he became stuck like an oversized raggedy doll. Once his heartbeat slowed down and he regained enough composure to realize that he was indeed very much alive and not in Heaven, he breathed a sigh of relief and looked back at a spear that saved his life.
It was red with golden accents, resembling those legendary weapons wielded by renowned heroes he saw in picture books. He saw it before. Not in books, but in the hands of someone much more real. It belonged to that pretty girl from Pumpkin Pete covers. Pyrrha, was it? He wondered what made her pin him to the tree, but quickly discarded her reasoning. Whatever her goals might be, she saved his life and that’s all that mattered.
He heard rustling bellow and wasted no time in calling out for help:
“Hello?” he hated how awkward he sounded, but the current situation could not allow him to put up much of a bravado. “Is anyone there?”
Someone indeed was there. A young man clad in grey armor stepped out of the bushes with a halberd in hand. He was tall, broad shouldered and had long slick back blue hair. Jaune could not see his face in detail, as there was a great distance between them, but he could read his general expression. It appeared dumbfounded. He was most likely wondering just how he managed to end up there pinned to a tree.
“Uh, hello…?” Jaune’s own expression was a mix of shame and a plea for help. “Sorry, but uh… could you help me out?”
The man with a halberd merely continued to stare at him for a few seconds more, then he closed his blue eyes and sighed.
“It appears we are partners now, so what other choice do I have but help?” he replied with his voice lacking any hint of warmth or amusement. He aimed the end of his halberd at Jaune. “I am Sky Lark. Please, remain still. I shall get you down as quickly as possible.”
“…uh, sure. Are you going to climb to me or…?”
“I am going to dislodge the spear by shooting at it.”
“What? Are you crazy!? If you’ll miss, you’d shoot my head clean off with that thing!”
“I understand your worries,” replied the blue haired man with the same flat tone. “My aim may not be the best among our peers, but it will suffice. Even if the worst were to occur, the caliber of Feather’s Edge is rather meager and so as long as you have even the minimal aura, no harm shall befall upon you.”
“What?!”
The man with the halberd cleared his throat.
“I said the caliber of Feather’s Edge is…”
“No, I mean what’s aura?”
Sky lowered his weapon and blinked first in surprise and then in disbelief.
“You don’t have your aura unlocked?” he asked and in his deadpan voice could faintly be heard the notes of astonishment.
“Maybe…?”
Sky looked at his halberd and then back at Jaune. He stared at him without a hint of emotion and somehow that hit Jaune harder than any disappointed glare ever could.
“We might have a problem. Give me a second.”
“Alright, cool! We are cool! I… Uh, I might have an idea how to get me down without, you know, shooting at me with live rounds. If you got a belt maybe you could use it wrap it around the…”
Before Jaune could finish that line of thought, suddenly the weapon in Sky’s hands changed. No, it did not transform into a gun like Ruby’s weapon could(Crescent Rose, that was its name, right?). One moment Sky was holding a gun-halberd and the next he held a bolt action rifle(that’s how these types of rifles were called, right?). Sky aimed the rifle at him and Jaune’s eyes widened in horror.
“No, wait! We didn’t agree to…”
He did not get to finish that sentence, as Sky had already pulled the trigger. In one swift moment, the entire world around him slowed down to a crawl and Jaune felt it. What that it was, thankfully, not the sensation of a round piercing through his flesh, but the faint yet unforgettable feeling of the round’s impact into the spear being harmlessly distributed into his body and the tree to which he was pinned.
He then fell down, without any semblance of grace or dignity, but between then and now there was a moment where Jaune’s skull held but singular triumphant thought:
‘I am alive!’
What followed next was swift, but painful. On the way he, fortunately, managed to avoid hitting any branches and so the only thing that cushioned his fall was the earth itself. Suffice to say that mother earth was anything but soft and welcoming. He groaned, as his entire body was overtaken but in pain and his head felt like it was filled with stones and broken glass.
“You appear to be conscious,” he heard the voice of his partner and opened his eyes. Sky looked down at him with… well now that he was close enough to him to clearly see his facial expression(or lack of it), without much of anything. The dude had a phenomenal poker face, he’d give him that.
“Yeah, unfortunately,” Jaune replied, trying to mask his turmoil with sarcasm as he took a sitting position. “Dude… Next time you pull something like that, at least give me a little warning.”
“If I did, you would’ve panicked and I might have ended up grievously injuring you,” stated Sky, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He then offered him a hand, which Jaune took without much retort. “I have yet to hear your name.”
‘Really? That’s what all you have to say?’ Jaune sighed, but decided against antagonizing someone with a gun.
“…Jaune,” he said after a short pause. “Jaune Arc. Short, sweet and rolls off the tongue. Ladies love it. Well, I hope they do.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Jaune,” Sky offered him his hand for a handshake in such a stilted manner, Jaune had to pause for a moment and wonder if the man in front of him was some sort of robot wearing human skin.
“Is it really?” he could not help himself but attempt to joke. Unfortunately, all Sky had to offer in return was blunt and indifferent truth.
“No,” he said and the air somehow tripled in awkward and uneasy tension. Thankfully, it lessened with Sky’s next words. “But it would be a lie to say that the experience uniquely displeases me in some fashion.”
Ah, so it displeases him in a completely mundane fashion! How reassuring! Jaune chuckled because how else could he reply to that? So, with an awkward smile he took shook the hand of his newfound partner, replying to his blunt coldness with an earnest optimism:
“Well, today could’ve started better, but I’ve got a feeling it’s only gonna go up from here. Now let’s do our best to not cause each other too much headache!”
In retrospect, it was incredibly arrogant of him to say something like that to someone like Sky, but at the time he did not know what lied under his partner’s mask of indifference and apathy. All he could know only what he could see and what he saw back then was a fellow awkward teenager. Then, for the briefest of moments, he felt it.
What that it was not a singular thing. If he had to describe it, it was the moment itself. What once was in the background and tuned out was now on the forefront of his senses. The colors of the tree branches, the cold of the shade in which he stood, the distant bird song, the smell and the crispness of the air and amidst that whirlwind of sensation was he. For a singular moment, Jaune has caught a glimpse of something far greater than himself and felt that greater something greater gaze back at him, but before he could truly comprehend or realize the significance of that moment it passed.
Once it was over, Jaune found himself in a completely different world. He stared in pure astonishment at Sky, wondering if it was all a dream or some sort of premortem hallucination.
“Sky…” he whispered. “What was that?”
“I unlocked your aura. Now, please follow me. The initial stupor will soon wear off. I will explain to you the basics on our way to the objective.”
“…what?”
This was going to be a long day, huh?
Russel was not one to hold many expectations. Growing up in Mantle tended to rob one of any form of optimism. It’s not that he had a particularly tragic childhood. He had a living relative that cared for him, proper education, a place he could return to and he knew how to handle himself in the fight. Comparatively speaking, he had it good. Especially when compared to those unlucky sods that had to fend for themselves in the streets like rats until they were old or strong enough to join or form a gang.
Still, being a part of the metaphorical upper middle class of Mantle did not change the fact that you were living in complete shithole. The disparity between the richest resident of Mantle and the poorest resident of Atlas was as vast as the distance between Remnant and the shattered moon.
…Okay, maybe he was exaggerating, but the point still stood.
He did not hold any expectations for Beacon. As a matter of fact, he came here simply because all other options were somehow worse. Atlas Academy was filled to the brim with uptight military tight, Shade Academy had a rather idiotic ‘Might makes Right’ type of deal going for it and getting into Haven would’ve been a bureaucratic nightmare. So, he came to Beacon.
So far he couldn’t say he was impressed with what he has seen. Sure, getting launched off a face of a cliff was… an experience, but the moment he got down it turned into a slow and uneventful walk through the forest. Now, he was not one to be unappreciative of nature. After the endless urban nightmare that was Mantle and the sterile and soulless visages of Atlas, a simple forest looked like a piece of heaven. The problem was that he came here not for a scenic walk, but for something else.
Then, he heard it, just barely. One from the front, two from the left and two more from the right.
He held his daggers tightly. Shortwings, that’s how his teacher called them. A name given as a sign of youth and a promise of something greater. He took a stance and held his breath. Now was time to see if those countless days of conditioning and training bore fruit.
Suddenly, from the bushes, a beast lunged at him. A Grimm, creature of darkness hell-bent on destruction. Its form resembling that of a monstrous humanoid wolf. Its body was completely black with the exception of bone spikes protruding from its shoulder and spine and a white bare bone of its head, as well its bright bloody red eyes.
Atlas was famous for its school of fencing. Atlasian Fencing prioritized evading the strikes of your foe with elegant movement before delivering powerful pinpoint strikes at the vitals. It was a style built on speed and masterful technique. Russel, however, knew not a single thing about Atlasian Fencing style, aside from how to counter it.
Before the beowolf could land and pounce at him, Russel already met it halfway and punctured its chest with his right dagger. He then threw his other dagger at the two grimm to his left. The blade spun and threw the air with unnatural speed and force and beheaded the two beowolves mid-jump. Russel then dislodged the blade from the chest of the girmm in front of him and immediately ducked to avoid the pounce of the last beast and the moment it landed on its feet he stabbed in the back, thus delivering to it a swift death.
Then, he caught the spinning blade as it returned back to his hand, much like a boomerang. Then and only then, Russel exhaled and allowed himself a small smile. His own fighting style prioritized offence above all else. It felt good to finally utilize it against something he could stab and cut as much as he liked without any moral or legal repercussions.
He then heard a sound one would expect at the theater. A sound of applause to be precise. Returning back to combat ready stance, Russel scanned his surroundings in search for potential danger, but the sound was not coming from one of the bushes or behind one of the trees. It came from above.
Up above on the branch of an old tree leisurely sat some guy in tan armor. The first thing that Russel took notice of was the weapon that still sat idly in its sheath. The second was the guy’s expression. Closed eyes and a self-assured smile radiating pure upper-class entitlement. Call it a hunch or a gut feeling, but something about it was strangely punchable.
“Well fought, friend!” he said with an approving smile. “I must say, the fierceness of your style is something that is both to be feared and admired. It truly gladdens my heart that someone of your caliber is now my partner.”
“Who the fuck are you?” was Russel’s immediate biting reply, to which the man with closed eyes merely laughed as if he just heard a harmless joke.
“Ah, right where are my manners?” he jumped off the branch and soundlessly landed on his feet.
That was what put Russ on edge. It wasn’t just that the sound of his feet hitting the earth was muffled, it was completely absent. Either the moron had a stealth oriented semblance and forgot to turn it off or he knew how to utilize his own aura to minimize his own sound.
“I am Dove Bronzewing,” he bowed before him. “Son of Moirai Bronzewing, huntsman in training, future student of Beacon and partner of…” Dove childishly gestured at him and Russ could only sigh.
“…Russel Thrush,” he sheathed his daggers.
“…Russel Thrush!” echoed Dove, straightening his back. “Yes, one and only. Now that we are acquainted, we can now head towards the…”
“Now hold on there for a minute, ya pansy prick,” interrupted him Russ. “I still haven’t gotten from you an explanation of what you’ve been doing there up in the trees, while I’ve been fighting the Grimm down here by myself.”
“Well, I was waiting for your arrival, of course.”
“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t think that sentence can have more than one meaning, friend,” said Dove, as he turned and started to walk in a seemingly random direction like a complete doofus. “Now, let us commence forth! Our teammates may be the patient sort, but it would still be quite rude to keep them waiting in place such as this!”
“Now wait here a minute, ya bastard! You haven’t explained shit! And I am not your friend, asshole!” Russel hurried after him, all the while hurling insults and curses, while Dove kept answering with more inane cryptic bullshit.
Suffice to say, the rest of the trek through the forest suddenly became a lot less scenic and uneventful for once bored punk.
His birthplace was long gone. Burned to the ground and ashes lost among the shifting dunes. He knew not his family and those who he grew to view as such lived only in his memory. He adhered not to ideology nor to some lofty dream. He lived for he feared death, he walked forward for he was carried by the great flow of the world.
Sky Lark was an absolute nobody. Just another orphaned young man from Vacuo with eyes far too old to match his youthful face. It was hard for him to remember why he came specifically to Beacon. Convenience? Greed? Lack of alternatives?
It didn’t matter. Now, he was walking through the forest accompanied by a borderline civilian who had his aura unlocked just moments ago. It was, frankly, troubling. A part of him wondered if his newfound partner, Jaune, had some sort of death wish.
No, he most likely didn’t. He had a sword on him, after all. If he truly desired to die, then…
Perhaps it was mere foolishness that guided his step? Most things often thought of as malice often were brought forth by lack of information, hasty assumptions and the feeling of urgency. He eyed his companion, his own pair of eyes to be exact. They were blue and open to the whole wide world. Despite knowing him for less than an hour, Sky was confident that Jaune’s eyes were the most honest pair of eyes one could have.
‘Hm.’
He returned his gaze to the path ahead.
‘Foolishness it is.’
They have not encountered a single Grimm on their long walk through forest. Fortune smiled upon them for Sky knew that despite his own experience he would not be able to fight well enough to keep both of them safe. He had not seen Jaune fight, but considering the blond oaf decided to take huntsman exam without knowing what aura was it was safe to say that the sword on his hip would bring both of them nothing but trouble in his hands.
“Sky, I think I see the ruins.”
Indeed he did, for Sky could very well see the same thing that Jaune was seeing. Why did he even feel the need to verbalize it? No matter, he merely nodded and they carefully approached the heaps of broken rocks. Headmaster did not say anything about the possibility of Grimm frequenting the ruins, but Sky knew better than to test his luck.
The ruins were, in fact, just a collection of pedestals with varying figurines on top of them. One figurine per one pedestal. Ten in black and nine in gold. One gold piece was missing. How curious.
“So this is what we are supposed to bring back?” asked Jaune.
“It appears so.”
“Hey, check this out,” he pointed at the empty pedestal. “Someone got there first. You think they are still nearby?”
“It’s hard to say,” Sky scanned his surroundings and listened to distant sounds. He held his rifle in an idle position. “I can’t hear anything and I doubt they will be making much noise. We should grab our relic and head back. The longer we stay here the higher our chances of encountering Grimm.”
“I hear you,” nodded Jaune with a sigh. He really was looking forward to meeting someone else. Not that his partner was unpleasant by any means, it’s just Sky, as he came to know in this past hour, was not much of a conversationalist. Nineteen chess pieces stood around them on pedestal, none of them stood out in any particular way. “See something that speaks to you?”
“Hm…?”
“I mean, do you see the piece you like?”
“Ah,” Sky did not bother analyzing any of the strange figurines. He merely pointed at the one that was closest to him. “Let’s get this one.”
“You mean black bishop?”
“Is that how it’s called?”
“Yeah,” Jaune nodded. “Have you ever played chess?”
“No.”
Dang it, now he felt insensitive for asking. Jaune cleared his throat and offered, trying to move the conversation:
“Remind me to teach you someday.”
“I’ll try.”
A faint sound reached his ears. On a reflex, he turned and aimed his rifle, while Jaune gazed upon him in surprise. Moments ago he had heard a single person yet now he clearly saw two. Two guys their age. One with a mohawk dressed more like a bandit than a future huntsman and another armor clad bearing an expression of utter serenity. Sky hesitantly lowered his rifle and the armor clad man smiled at them:
“Greetings!” he said. “I am Dove Bronzewing and this here,” he gestured with his hand to a punk that has been glaring at them with bared daggers in his hands, “is my friend Russel Thrush. And you two are…?”
“Sky Lark,” spoke Sky without much emotion.
“Ahem,” Jaune cleared his throat. “Jaune Arc. Pleasure to meet you, I guess?”
“Pleasure is all mine, Jaune. Say you wouldn’t happen to meet anyone else on your way here?”
“No,” replied Jaune. “I mean, one of them pinned me down to a tree when I was falling down, but I never got the chance to meet her and thank her for the save so…”
“Wait,” cut Russel while finally lowering his daggers. “You are that unlucky bloke that Nikos tried to eliminate from the initiation, right? I heard you scream when I got launched off a cliff,” he laughed and Jaune could only look away in shame. “Shit, mate, the way you screamed – I could’ve sworn you were a goner!”
‘Yeah, I thought so too,’ Jaune admitted to himself in the privacy of his own mind.
Sky, meanwhile, wisely chose to remain silent. There was no need for these two to know of Jaune's precarious situation. Not yet, at least.
“Oh!” Dove looked at Russel with genuine surprise. “Russel, why didn’t you tell me that you could express emotion other than anger?” there was no real bite behind his words, yet punk’s merry faded and the prior frustration returned to his voice.
“Well, pardon me, Mr. Fortune Cookie, it’s hard to be civil with someone who sprouts nothing but heaps of cryptic nonsense.”
“Nonsense?” asked Dove, again lacking any form of negativity or sarcasm. “I thought I was rather straightforward with my words or was I speaking too fast, maybe? Hm… No worries, my friend, next I will do my best to remedy our miscommunication by speaking slowly and repeating myself where needed!”
Despite Dove’s earnest attempt it did little to extinguish Russel’s anger. He gripped the hilt of his dagger and grit his teeth, stepping closer to oblivious boy.
“Now listen here you little…!”
“Guys! Fellas!” suddenly cut in Jaune with a troubled smile of his own. “Let’s cool it down a little and try to postpone this conversation to sometime after we are out the forest filled with scary shadow monsters?”
As if to emphasize his point a distant roar echoed between the treesRussel exhaled and let it go, while Dove merely continued to smile. Sky observed silently from the sidelines as Dove picked a relic for himself and Russel and after that the four of them hurried away from the long abandoned site.
He did not believe in fate. To say that he believed in destiny would imply that his certainty in his own knowledge stemmed from faith or some inner feeling. Dove Bronzewing did not believe in fate; for him it held the same unquestionable certainty as the sky above and the ground below. He knew fate existed for he was her the son most beloved.
After all, who else could say that their semblance allowed them to see the future?
Today was not the first he saw Russel, Jaune and Sky. First time it ever happened, he was ten years old and on the next day his mother assigned paladins of their church to train him for that was the will of creation. Now thanks to the will of fate, he was now officially huntsman in training and a proud member of team ALBR.
Ah, wait, he was getting ahead of himself again. Damned be his oh so excitable heart.…
“Jaune Arc, Sky Lark, Dove Bronzewing, Russel Thrush,” spoke Headmaster Ozpin as four of them stood before him on stage, countless eyes of their peers observing them varying intent and levels of respect. “The four of you have retrieved the black bishop pieces. From this day onward you will work together as Team Alabaster led by Jaune Arc.”
“Huh…?” the shock on Jaune’s face was clear for all to see. “Led by…?”
“Congratulations, Mr. Arc,” Ozpin offered him his enigmatic smile.
Dove chuckled to himself at his leader’s apparent lack of belief in himself. To be fair, not that lack of confidence was unjustified. After all, if had come here untrained and with faked transcripts he too would have been quite nervous. Still, Dove was thankful it was Jaune that led them. From what he has seen of the blonde knight, the shade of his heart matched the color of his hair.
Dove saw the path ahead of him clear as day. He did not know what plagued the hearts of his fellows and what he saw of their trials was limited by his own involvement in their fates. As long as they tread the path all shall be well in the world. A vision flashed before his eyes…
“…you knew? From the very start, you knew and yet you… You… YOU ROTTEN BASTARD! HOW COULD YOU…!”
He bit his lip and stifled a sharp sensation in his heart.
This… This was a new one.
Their team had already left the stage and returned to their seats. Jaune and Russel were idly conversing while Sky stared at the stage with empty eyes. Dove merely continued to smile. How could he not? As his mother once told him, he was fate’s most beloved son. His every step, his every action, his every word… it was all already decided for him. How could he choose to act otherwise if there was no choice to begin with?
One day some would lament his lot in life, while others would rage against his apathy, but what right they had to do so? They were not different from him. Man’s motions were but a sum of forces imposed upon him. They all chose their lives as the iron in their weapons chose its shape. The only difference between him and the people around him was the fact that he possessed the burden of knowledge while they did not and thus they had liberty of putting their faith into perceived uncertainty of tomorrow while he could not.
But he did not despair at his fate. He was here with Russel, Jaune and Sky. He will meet wonderful people, see unforgettable sights and experience many joys this life has to offer. Sure, it will all end with his death at the hand of an unbeatable foe. Sure, he had all the rights to lament, mourn and despair, but what fun would be in it?
His days in Beacon would be short and end in tragedy, but until his final moments of agony Dove Bronzewing would greet every morning with a smile and pass each day with laughter and, perhaps, the world would be kind enough to laugh and smile with him.