The Prince and the Dragon

The Best Matchmaker is a Chemistry Project

The lecture room was filled with the soft scratch of lead points on parchment as the Signal attendees copied the chemistry notations on the blackboard as the pink-haired professor reclined in her spinny chair, sipping a can of ginger ale soda. She scanned the rows of students toiling in the Autumn afternoon. 

Then her eyes found the blonde tone of her favorite student, blue eyes trained on the notebook in front of him. He looked up for a moment then scribbled a formula. Dr. Sherry Desna smiled with content. Jaune Arc truly was a paragon of persistence, and this boy had sharpened up after months of work. As his guidance counselor and a close confidant in his journey through Signal, the good doctor was extremely proud of her star pupil. 

For Jaune Arc had run through fire to get to where he was now. A scion of the Arc clan, the royal house of Ansel, Jaune Arc was meant to be the next in line for the title of Prince of Ansel, a member of the countries parliament and the representative of the principality of Ansel. And to do this, he was meant to rise through the ranks of the Huntsmen before he came of age, then enter office as the ruler of Ansel as per tradition. 

But the Arc family suddenly turned tail and suddenly forbade the next heir from joining the Huntsmen ranks and thus keeping him from his place on the throne. Nicholas Arc then surprised the courts of Vale and appointed his eldest daughter, Violet Arc, to be his heir. Of course, it wasn't the gender that surprised the court- there was already a substantial amount of princesses in parliament-  but that Jaune had been trained to be the prince, while Violet was trained to be a combat goddess. 

It was no secret that the people loved Jaune as well, the boy who disregarded the aristocracy and helped in the village, going as far as to apprentice under every worksman in Ansel, from the farmer to the blacksmith. Apparently, it was to "get to know everyone's needs" for when he became prince.  

Violet was a stark contrast to him. Quiet and introverted to everyone but her family, she was only a neutral character in the eyes of the people. More attune to the writings of poets and philosophers than the clangs of the workmen, no doubt she wasn't as much of a people's person than the charming and charismatic brother.

And the effect on Jaune was crumbling. For the details of the shunning went undiscovered, only the clue that something had happened to his twin sister Joan and that the Arcs had become scared for their only son. But to Sherry, the very thing they swore to keep their precious prince away from was the only thing Jaune had any love for. Girls took a backseat, food was often ignored, and sometimes Jaune wouldn't sleep, content to be practicing his blade work in the backyard until morning light.

So he ran. He applied to Signal. His family, in their rage, cast him out of the family tree. Out of his own pocket, he supported himself and his dorm room.  But no longer was he the beloved prince of Ansel, but the trash of society. And the people reminded him of it.

She remembered the night when he stumbled into her office with a resignation paper the middle of first year. The year had been a earthquake and a tsunami for the blonde. His confidence was non-existent, he was pushed around by the student body, and was used as a punching bag for the bullies of Signal. He was stretched between part-time jobs, studies, and missions, and was failing his classes.

Yet, after a hour of lecture, scolding, and a few sobs, he walked back out with his head held high. The next day, he aced his chemistry test and humbled a few of his bullies in the rink.

She smirked ruefully. The fight on the first day did not go unnoticed, and her star pupil had shown the fruits of his "holiday retreat" over the summer. A rustle of feet getting up as the same Jaune Arc stood up and walked down to the desk. He set his packet and stood at the foot of her desk, waiting as she flipped through the packet. Perfect marks, so perfect it might've been the answer sheet. She looked at him through her brows and pink bangs. The 25-year old sighed and flicked her hand to the door.