Epilogue


The devastation wrought on Beacon Academy had not been forgotten, but the strides taken by Vale citizens were nonetheless commendable. Much of this could be traced back to professors who rallied the students that stayed behind. Downtrodden men and women need only lay eyes on the tenacious and resourceful youths to invigorate their spirits.

Lessons were occasionally conducted in the temporary huntsman base set up in the commercial district, another demonstration of resilience by staff and students. Those were few and far between amidst the rebuilding and recovery, but it was a welcome distraction, homage to better days.

From the commercial district, a long stretch of highway spanned the distance between it and a small town on the outskirts. The houses in this area were old, hailing to a glorious time in history where a tenuous peace had just been struck.

The Arc Family home skirted the cliffs near this town. A tranquil place, now that all of their eight children had grown.

"Honey?"

Grayson Arc lifted his goggles as his wife came bustling into the workshop. "Be careful," he said, "I could have been using the laser cutter. What if my hand slipped and shaved you bald?"

"Please, you never use it this early," she replied with a careless wave. She set down a pile of letters.

"You came here to tell me we got letters?"

"Without the CCT, this is our only line of communication to the rest of Remnant. You should be more excited."

He lazily sorted through the mail with gloved hands, squinting at the bold lettering. "The Council took the time to remind us that our utilities are due. How exciting. Oh, and look. A warning from the Hunters Association that Grimm could invade the city at any time."

Joanna Arc sighed as she watched her husband. "You big oaf," she said. "You missed the one on top. It's from Jaune." Her smile turned smug when he grimaced. "I knew it. You need glasses."

"It's not my fault his handwriting is tiny," he defended.

"Stop being so stubborn." She leaned over the workbench and pecked him on the cheek. "Save the excuses. It's time for lunch. You can open them later, when you're less cranky."

Grayson Arc watched his wife gather the pile of letters and swagger away. He rolled his eyes. "I don't need glasses," he muttered.

He picked up the short sword he'd been polishing on the grinder and hung it on the wall. Picking up the rag on his shoulder, he flung it into the basket on the opposite end of the workshop. It landed in the basket with a soft whump. "Bad eyesight my foot."

He left without a backwards glance, unaware the towel had fallen behind the shelf. It was never seen again.


It was customary for a pot of tea to be shared after food. As Joanna busied herself with the dishes, waiting for the brew, he slit open the envelope with the swiss knife he carried on hand. Steady fingers picked out the folded piece of paper nestled inside.

Grayson flipped the parchment, gazing at the front and back. It was smaller than he'd predicted, and when he finally unfolded it, he was shocked by the wall of cursive writing. He frowned. The handwriting on the envelop had been Jaune's, but this was penned in a stranger's hand. He shook his head and began to read.

'Introductions are in order. I am Weiss Schnee, fellow teammate to your son, Jaune Arc. He has informed me that you wish to hear about his journey, spanning from the island of Patch to Haven, and now Argus.

Allow me to keep things short. Our time is precious and as I write, we are amidst gathering supplies for our next destination. We have decided not to include its name in fear it may be used against us.

Our journey has brought forth countless hardships. As you may be aware, the most devastating remains the loss of Jaune's partner, Pyrrha Nikos. She was dear friend to us, and she loved him with her very soul itself. You may see my words as exaggeration, but her heroism is the reason I am able to stand beside him today.

Pyrrha was the first to see past his faults, when, in the beginning, all I saw was an overconfident loon. This is no thanks in part to the ridiculous wisdom you imparted on him. I am not the paragon of virtue nor will I pretend to be, and my parents are no more flawed than the rest of Remnant, but allow me to be frank. Your teaching methods are questionable.

Jaune has changed greatly since our first meeting. He has many friends willing to testify to this, like I have with this letter. Be rest assured that I will take care of him. I take my duties very seriously, and I have no qualms he will do the same for me.

He might not have been the son you wished for, but he has become the man he was meant to be. You have Pyrrha to thank for that.

Sincerest Regards,

Weiss Schnee

Joanna entered the dining room to see her husband staring blankly at their son's letter. She set down the steaming pot, walking to his side. "What did Jaune say?"

Grayson's head fell back. "He's got himself a feisty one."

Joanna quirked her head in confusion. It a long time since she'd last seen him in such a state, concussed by new discoveries. Violetta's career shift. Saphron's marriage. Jaune's acceptance into Beacon.

Her older daughters had once pointed out Joanna's unflappable nature was a large contrast to their father's flighty moods.

Joanna thought those words accurate. Grayson was a fine husband. But as a father, prone to poor displays of affection and strange teaching methods that left her foaming at the mouth. His eccentric grandfather took credit for that.

Her daughters had taken his teachings in stride, often with the technique of in one ear and out the other. Her son was a different story, sensitive to a fault during his younger years. Grayson had taken upon himself to mould him into a 'strapping lad' capable of leading the family, ignoring that the Arcs had fallen out of the old ways after the Great War.

Joanna's private opinion was that Jaune would be better off left to her. Alas, seven daughters had kept her plate full. Jaune had grown well, but it was clear he wasn't as settled as his sisters.

Joanna had given Grayson a stern talking to after Jaune ran off to try his hand at becoming a Hunter, despite the lack of combat experience, and most glaringly, lack of common sense.

"Sugar?" she asked.

"Five spoons." Grayson massaged his temples. "I need a pick me up after reading that." His chair dragged across the floor as he stood. "Where's the duster? I'll be back once it's cooled."

"That letter must have been something," Joanna commented, a curious glint to her eyes. "Let me read it?"

"Suit yourself."

Grayson left the room, making towards Jaune's with feather duster in hand. He nudged the door wide and walked past the sheet covered bed. The shelf was tall and wide, taking up a lengthy chunk of the room. The bottom half was stuffed with comics, some still in original wrapping. His level gaze rose to meet the rows upon rows of pristine cardboard boxes.

Grayson knew who she was. Who didn't?

He lightly dusted the cereal boxes Jaune had painstakingly collected, noting the similarities and differences between them. Seasonal boxes, special editions with knick knacks, one even promising a lint autograph card from the champion herself. This cereal had been Jaune's vice. His son's sweet tooth was undoubtedly from his mother.

"I can't believe I'm actually about to do this," he muttered. Grayson paused, duster clenched in one hand while the other reached out to adjust the slanted box. Pyrrha Nikos wore a winning smile, chin rested on steepled fingers. "Thank you," he said. "For helping my son."

His cheeks burned. He couldn't believe he'd actually taken the letter seriously. For a moment, he stood there, paralysed by embarrassment. "At least Jo isn't here to see this," he told himself.

"GRAY!" His wife's delighted scream echoed. "OUR SON HAS A GIRLFRIEND!?"

"Right," he groaned. "The letter."

His wife was going to frame the impudent thing and hang it in the living room until time immemorial. Grayson was never going to live this down.

THE END


AN:

Well. I never thought I'd see the day. Given my track record of my older stories (sorry, lmao) I'm surprised I finally finished this. There's going to be a explanation of how this story came about below (spoiler: it's long and boring, possibly offensive) so I'll get to the super important stuff first.

I'm very happy with all the feedback I got for the story. I hope the ending was satisfying, it was really hard to write a conclusion and I didn't want to mess it up. I may not be the greatest at taking criticisms, I'm pretty hot headed lol, but I'm glad people read this story and want it to be better.

Thank you all for taking the time to read it! :D


What Inspired the Story

The concept and title 'Tangled' came from a brilliant manga called Kingdom. More precisely, it was one of the arcs where the King's rival, Ryofui was finally beaten. Long story short, Ryofui made an offhand comment about how the kingdom of Qin was only able to move forward after the utter mess of a relationship between him, the king's wife, and the previous king, had been finally put to rest.

'Like a knot so deeply entangled that it has become impossible to pull us apart.' At this point, I only had the first chapter written. But then as I reread the manga, my brain basically exploded and that was how this story was born. It's kinda dumb, but whatever kek.

I recommend you read Kingdom, because the character progression, art and story is one of the most amazing things I have ever read. Or don't, because you're a rebel. Jk, please read it.

Why I wrote Tangled

Long time readers of my fics probably read the rants on my profile at sometime or the other these past two years. It's mostly about how disillusioned I was with RWBY, as a show. I started writing for this fandom 5 years ago. Back then, literally nothing could persuade me that this show wasn't the greatest freaking thing ever invented. Cool girls, weapons and monsters?! Fuck yes.

But then Vol 4 came. I really didn't like it. It was a combination of story/animation changes/lettergate. I went from loving it to hating it so fast my heart couldn't keep up. But the show got insanely popular, and I was left wondering if it was my fault for not liking it. Sounds dumb, I know. But I haven't been alive for very long, and I literally spent 1/4 of my life with the show, so get off mah dick!

Anyway, it's not a popular opinion that the show isn't written well. But after watching Vol 6, it was clearer to me than ever. Don't get me wrong, I liked Vol 6. It was good. But when you've read a literal sea of fanfics that deal with AU's, rewritten canon, and an awesome visual novel (Summer Rose Court - go play it) good becomes mediocre.

But that's just me. RWBY has impacted more people than I'd ever know. If you like it, that's great. Please continue! It has spawned an awesome, creative community, and though RT has in my opinion, has made questionable business/creative decisions, I can't deny the joy this show has brought to people. I think I've just gotten to a point where I can't be content with what it's offering, and find myself unable to overlook the show's flaws.

Tangled came about in my last ditch effort to prove to myself: Yes, I'm not a terrible writer. Yes, I will always have a soft spot for the show. And I'm happy to say I'm glad at the results. This writing thing ain't so bad, after all.

Five years ago, it was the best decision of my life to watch RWBY. Five years later, stepping away from this show will be the best thing I ever did. It's not like I'll stop writing RWBY forever. But my enthusiasm for the show just isn't the same.

Anyway, ramble over. Have a good one guys!