Legacy of the Schnee
New
Sliverhero
Know what you're doing yet?
- Joined
- Jun 11, 2025
- Messages
- 184
- Likes received
- 1,227
Here is next part for my dxd x rwby crossover.
The Schnee manor is unusually peaceful. Willow Schnee, steady and sober on one of her rare bright days, sits beside young Weiss's bed. She smooths the blankets, humming softly as Weiss looks up at her with hopeful, curious eyes.
"Mother… can you tell me a story tonight? One of the old ones?" Willow hesitates, but tonight, the memories don't hurt. She nods. "There is one tale," she says softly, "passed down so long ago that even our oldest records call it a myth." Weiss's eyes widen as Willow begins, her voice calm and warm.
"Thousands of years before Mantle, before Atlas, before Remnant itself. Our family descends from a warrior named Vali Lucifer, the White Dragon Emperor. He carried within him the soul of a mighty dragon called Albion."
Willow pauses, brushing her daughter's cheek gently. "But no legend of Albion is complete without his eternal rival… the Red Dragon Emperor." Weiss perks up. "There was another?"
"Indeed," Willow continues. "His name, according to the oldest accounts, was Issei Hyoudou, partner of the Crimson Dragon, Ddraig. In the ancient world, these two dragons were said to be unmatched, equal in power and fury. Their hosts, Vali and Issei, clashed countless times."
Her voice takes on a soft rhythm, as though reciting something passed down through generations. "White dragon against red…,Light against fire…, Albion against Ddraig."
"But Mother," Weiss whispers, "were they enemies?"
"A complicated question." Willow smiles faintly.
"They fought. Oh, how they fought. The sky itself trembled when those two met. But they shared something far stronger than hatred—respect. Rivals, yes… but also partners in fate. Destiny tied them together, and in time, they even stood side by side to protect their world."
Weiss's eyes shine, imagining two colossal dragons, one shimmering white, the other blazing crimson, circling each other in the heavens. Willow continues, voice soft.
"Vali and Issei faced gods, devils, tyrants, and monsters. Some scholars even claim their final battle was so tremendous that the shockwaves echoed into the new worlds that formed later… including Remnant. That is why our family has always kept the story alive."
She leans down, kissing Weiss's forehead lovingly. "Our ancestors believed the tale should remind us of something important: Even the strongest rivals can inspire each other. Even dragons can choose who they wish to be.
And so can you, my little Weiss."
Weiss closes her eyes, drifting to sleep imagining white and red dragon wings dancing across the sky.
Jaune side.
Rain taps softly against the windows of the Arc home, and the dim lamp beside the bed casts warm gold across the room. Young Jaune lies pale and weak beneath heavy blankets, shivering despite the warmth.
His mother sits beside him, gently brushing damp blond hair from his forehead. "Deep breaths, sweetie… you're okay." Jaune swallows, voice thin."M-Mom… can you tell me a story? One of the old ones?"
Her heart warms. "Of course." She pulls up a chair and takes his hand. "This is the story of our greatest ancestor… Issei Hyoudou, host of the Crimson Dragon Emperor, Ddraig."
Jaune squints up at her. "Ddraig… the yelling dragon?" She chuckles softly. "Yes, him."
Her voice becomes slow and soothing. "Issei wasn't born strong. But he was brave. He refused to give up, even when the world expected nothing from him. And by his side was the mighty Ddraig, fierce, ancient, loud… and full of heart." Jaune's breathing steadies. "And the Arcs tell his story to remind ourselves that even the frailest child can grow into something extraordinary."
He smiles weakly. "I wanna be like him someday." "I know," she murmurs. Then something stirs. From the high shelf in the corner of the room, an ancient artifact begins to glow. The gauntlet-like relic, draconic engravings, crimson metal, pulses with warm red light.
"M-Mom… why is it glowing…?" She follows his gaze and exhales softly. "That relic was made long ago by an old friend of Issei's… a brilliant craftsman named Azazel. A wandering inventor, scholar, and tinkerer. No one truly knows where he came from, only that he cared greatly for Issei and his descendants."
The artifact pulses again, thump… thump… thump, steady as a heartbeat. A gentle warmth flows from it, filling the room before settling over Jaune. His shaking stops. His color returns. His breaths deepen. "M-Mom… it feels warm…"
"It's helping you," she whispers. "Azazel designed it to protect our family in times of weakness. A final gift to Issei's bloodline."
The glow slowly fades. His mother tucks him in again, brushing his cheek lovingly. "You're safe, Jaune. And stronger than you think." Jaune's eyelids grow heavy. "Mom… can you say the words…? The old ones?"
She smiles, soft, almost sacred.
The ancient Arc family phrase, passed down from generation to generation, meaning forgotten but significance never lost. She leans close and whispers: "Zoom Zoom Iyaan…"
The artifact gives one faint pulse, like a warm acknowledgment. Jaune drifts into peaceful sleep, wrapped in Azazel's ancient craft and the legacy of the Red Dragon Emperor.
The Schnee manor is unusually peaceful. Willow Schnee, steady and sober on one of her rare bright days, sits beside young Weiss's bed. She smooths the blankets, humming softly as Weiss looks up at her with hopeful, curious eyes.
"Mother… can you tell me a story tonight? One of the old ones?" Willow hesitates, but tonight, the memories don't hurt. She nods. "There is one tale," she says softly, "passed down so long ago that even our oldest records call it a myth." Weiss's eyes widen as Willow begins, her voice calm and warm.
"Thousands of years before Mantle, before Atlas, before Remnant itself. Our family descends from a warrior named Vali Lucifer, the White Dragon Emperor. He carried within him the soul of a mighty dragon called Albion."
Willow pauses, brushing her daughter's cheek gently. "But no legend of Albion is complete without his eternal rival… the Red Dragon Emperor." Weiss perks up. "There was another?"
"Indeed," Willow continues. "His name, according to the oldest accounts, was Issei Hyoudou, partner of the Crimson Dragon, Ddraig. In the ancient world, these two dragons were said to be unmatched, equal in power and fury. Their hosts, Vali and Issei, clashed countless times."
Her voice takes on a soft rhythm, as though reciting something passed down through generations. "White dragon against red…,Light against fire…, Albion against Ddraig."
"But Mother," Weiss whispers, "were they enemies?"
"A complicated question." Willow smiles faintly.
"They fought. Oh, how they fought. The sky itself trembled when those two met. But they shared something far stronger than hatred—respect. Rivals, yes… but also partners in fate. Destiny tied them together, and in time, they even stood side by side to protect their world."
Weiss's eyes shine, imagining two colossal dragons, one shimmering white, the other blazing crimson, circling each other in the heavens. Willow continues, voice soft.
"Vali and Issei faced gods, devils, tyrants, and monsters. Some scholars even claim their final battle was so tremendous that the shockwaves echoed into the new worlds that formed later… including Remnant. That is why our family has always kept the story alive."
She leans down, kissing Weiss's forehead lovingly. "Our ancestors believed the tale should remind us of something important: Even the strongest rivals can inspire each other. Even dragons can choose who they wish to be.
And so can you, my little Weiss."
Weiss closes her eyes, drifting to sleep imagining white and red dragon wings dancing across the sky.
Jaune side.
Rain taps softly against the windows of the Arc home, and the dim lamp beside the bed casts warm gold across the room. Young Jaune lies pale and weak beneath heavy blankets, shivering despite the warmth.
His mother sits beside him, gently brushing damp blond hair from his forehead. "Deep breaths, sweetie… you're okay." Jaune swallows, voice thin."M-Mom… can you tell me a story? One of the old ones?"
Her heart warms. "Of course." She pulls up a chair and takes his hand. "This is the story of our greatest ancestor… Issei Hyoudou, host of the Crimson Dragon Emperor, Ddraig."
Jaune squints up at her. "Ddraig… the yelling dragon?" She chuckles softly. "Yes, him."
Her voice becomes slow and soothing. "Issei wasn't born strong. But he was brave. He refused to give up, even when the world expected nothing from him. And by his side was the mighty Ddraig, fierce, ancient, loud… and full of heart." Jaune's breathing steadies. "And the Arcs tell his story to remind ourselves that even the frailest child can grow into something extraordinary."
He smiles weakly. "I wanna be like him someday." "I know," she murmurs. Then something stirs. From the high shelf in the corner of the room, an ancient artifact begins to glow. The gauntlet-like relic, draconic engravings, crimson metal, pulses with warm red light.
"M-Mom… why is it glowing…?" She follows his gaze and exhales softly. "That relic was made long ago by an old friend of Issei's… a brilliant craftsman named Azazel. A wandering inventor, scholar, and tinkerer. No one truly knows where he came from, only that he cared greatly for Issei and his descendants."
The artifact pulses again, thump… thump… thump, steady as a heartbeat. A gentle warmth flows from it, filling the room before settling over Jaune. His shaking stops. His color returns. His breaths deepen. "M-Mom… it feels warm…"
"It's helping you," she whispers. "Azazel designed it to protect our family in times of weakness. A final gift to Issei's bloodline."
The glow slowly fades. His mother tucks him in again, brushing his cheek lovingly. "You're safe, Jaune. And stronger than you think." Jaune's eyelids grow heavy. "Mom… can you say the words…? The old ones?"
She smiles, soft, almost sacred.
The ancient Arc family phrase, passed down from generation to generation, meaning forgotten but significance never lost. She leans close and whispers: "Zoom Zoom Iyaan…"
The artifact gives one faint pulse, like a warm acknowledgment. Jaune drifts into peaceful sleep, wrapped in Azazel's ancient craft and the legacy of the Red Dragon Emperor.