Disclaimer: I own nothing. Also, this is based on the prompt "So you have a photo of me with a prostitute. So what." submitted by an anon on tumblr. About time I got it uploaded her, lol. Schnee family drama with Monochrome following next chapter.
Weiss watched the way her father paced in front of the fireplace, never once allowing her posture to falter. The study's walls once felt stifling and oppressive, the eyes in the paintings all looking down upon her, the busts judging her as well- mental tricks she'd outgrown, but ones he still wished to play, hoping that setting the field in his favor would improve the outcome. She'd only seen him this incensed once before, and that was back when he still worried about being caught raising a hand to his children; she doubted this fiasco would turn out any better. A stab of phantom pain attempted to close her left eye but she muscled through it, tilting her chin up when his furious gaze fell on her, the folder in his hand held up between them.
They'd done this song and dance far too many times. Ever since he assumed the office of Governor after her grandfather's term ended, the man had done everything in his power to portray the family exactly as he wanted them to appear to the press. Every movement was measured, every faltering step remarked upon endlessly, and she'd grown up fully expecting that she had no other choice but to walk the path he'd mapped out for her, to one day assume the office herself and continue the Schnees' impressive hold over the state. That meant she could be nothing short of perfect, entirely scandal free, and beyond reproach on every front. The whole routine exhausted her but she kept up appearances well enough, though his irrational barking occurred more frequently now. He had to know she was faking it by this point and he was purposely pushing her, seeing if she'd break and allow him to remold her into the image he desired for her.
But she was never quite as brittle as he thought.
"What. Is the meaning. Of this." There, between the words, lay an accusation, but one he didn't give voice, hoping he could scare her into begging forgiveness first. In her youth, that tactic worked all too well for a girl starved for affection, any bit of evidence that might imply a little care was latched onto without second thought, even if that form of caring was a toxic, vile thing. Which is worse? Drinking from a poisoned well or dying of dehydration? Which hurts less?
The truth is: neither. And she'd grown far too jaded by his tricks to be deluded by the idea that her father's attention- his ire, his hypercritical gaze, his backhanded compliment- was just as good as his love. She wasn't even sure if the latter existed anymore and she had no interest in finding out. "It's a folder, Father, and it's typically meant to hold documents-"
"Do not get smart with me, young lady." He sneered, taking two steps closer to tower over her. Another tactic that worked when she was nothing more than a child, a role he was trying to force her back into against her will. At twenty five, however, it did nothing more than tickle her pride, her lacking height still something of a sore spot that only seemed placated by a good set of heels. The diminutive moniker meant nothing to her and it must've shown, his expression twisting a little further into rage. "You know quite well what's in here… or are you going to make me say it?"
Weiss raised a brow, meeting her father's eyes- so unlike her own- evenly. "Father, whatever it is you're overreacting about this time-"
Rather than allow her to finish, he flung the folder at her, with enough force and accuracy to hit her in her face were her reflexes not so sharp. Perhaps hitting a full basket's worth of tennis balls every other week didn't just provide catharsis for her ever growing list of vexations as of late. In no particular hurry, she opened the folder, surprised to see it filled with only a single photograph. Either he kept the others for blackmail or he'd overpaid for a very poorly done job; both options amused her. Rather than deal with her father immediately, though, she looked over the picture, fighting to keep her expression neutral.
There was no mistaking the timing. Last weekend down by the docks- one of their more recent ventures- she walked arm-in-arm along the boardwalk with someone who'd captured her attention and her heart, her companion sagging slightly against the shorter woman. Blake should've been sleeping, seeing as she spent her nights working, but the Faunus insisted they visit the fish market, a once-a-month affair that served as her best chance to get fresh tuna. Weiss indulged, even going so far as to carry the smelly package back to her companion's apartment, and all the while gently teasing the tired Faunus about her priorities. It was only with a little prodding that her companion relented to getting some rest, leaving the fish in the fridge with the promise they could eat it later, and she could still remember the way those amber eyes had lit up when she awoke from her nap- raven mane tousled and ears flicking in random patterns- to the smell of cooked tuna hanging heavy in the air. Blake had completely missed the look of barefaced relief on the woman's face, too busy devouring the meal set out for her; cooking, Weiss had found, was not her forte, but she'd somehow managed to follow the directions closely enough this time.
Just as it did then, leaning against the entryway to the small living room of the Faunus' apartment, the corner of her mouth twitched, the urge to smile fondly at the photograph rising within her and forcing her to look away. Such tender emotions had no place in the man's presence. "Well, Father, I'm no expert, but I think the composition is rather striking. Should I have it framed?"
He glared down at her, color rising up his neck. "I catch you red-handed jeopardizing all we've worked for and cheap sarcasm is the best you have to offer in response." The man turned, the floodgates opened as more vitriol poured from his mouth while he stalked around her, a wolf goading her into running so he could bleed her dry. "The years I've spent forging your contacts, working to have you included on every possible committee, running your campaigns from behind the scenes- twenty years of work to continue this family's legacy, and for what? For you to throw it away on a whore?"
Weiss drew in a slow, steady breath, beating down the indignation that sparked, smothering it under the layer of ice she'd once used to protect her heart from the world. She wanted to show her emotions more than anything- anger, disbelief, exasperation- but did her best to remain neutral; now that all the cards were on the table, she could play the game accordingly. "So you have a photo of me with a prostitute. So what?" She lifted both shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. "We're hardly doing anything inappropriate."
"Have you no shame?" He jabbed a finger at the photo in her lap. "The moment this breaks- when the reporters find out you're consorting with such disreputable company, what will you say? You think anyone will vote for you once they find out?" He swept an arm around. "This family owns the Governor's mansion- the Schnees have held the office for three generations and counting- and you're gambling all of that for what? Twenty minutes a week with a wild animal?"
She thought back to the hours spent in Blake's company, quiet moments while reading together in the early morning light before the Faunus retired, and others filled with laughter. She thought of the café they frequented, hands wrapped around their cups- earl grey with a little milk in one, espresso in the other- and sharing a muffin or croissant while watching people pass the window. And she thought of the first time they met, at an art gallery, both of them admiring a beautiful painting of the Vale countryside.
If anything, the only time she spent in the presence of a wild animal were whenever she entered this room.
"Don't lecture me about my family's history," she replied sharply. "When they ask, I will tell them the simple truth: that I'm dating a beautiful Faunus whom I care for very deeply and she's of excellent character." Weiss closed the folder and held it out, offering it back to the man with indifference. "She comes by her work honestly, she maintains an impeccable degree of professionalism, and she's highly recommended, from what I hear." Again, she shrugged, a small smile on her lips. "I wouldn't know, as of yet. We're taking things slow."
At first, his eyes widened, seemingly unable to comprehend her words. More likely, he simply didn't want to hear them, unwilling to come to terms with the fact that he didn't hold power over her anymore. After all these years of grooming her to take his place, here she was throwing it back at him full force, and all with a pleasant smile. When it sank in, she watched as his rage returned even stronger, the vein in his temple beginning to show as he clenched his fists.
"I see you find this funny, like a child rebelling against their betters out of spite- a myopic decision at best."
"You are not better than me and you certainly aren't better than Blake," she replied, rising out of her chair and lightly tossing the manila folder onto his desk. "If this is all you called me in here for-"
"You will not continue soliciting her, young lady! Or even seeing her! I forbid it!" His voice rose, the words bouncing off the walls, and she recognized that terrible echo. Deep down, she recoiled, all too aware that the step he took towards her exemplified both a threat and a promise. If he thought it would get him his way, he wouldn't hesitate to raise a hand towards her.
Sometimes, she thought herself a fool for playing along all these years, and she envied the strength and determination her sister had to walk away at the first opportunity.
"I will do whatever I want. Or whoever, in this case." Weiss met his gaze and raised her voice in equal measure, refusing to back down even as the words left her mouth. If one of them was to break tonight, it wouldn't be her. "Regardless, your claim is baseless at best. I've never once 'solicited' my girlfriend and our relationship is the business of no one but ourselves. If you or anyone else feels the need to question it, all that should matter is that she cares about me and treats me well- which is more than I can ever say for you." Her eyes narrowed. "I'm not a doll for you to pose however you see fit. I'm a person first and foremost, and I can handle the fallout of any decision I make, which includes the reporters and pretentiously scandalized hypocrites like yourself. All I have to do is politely remind the lot of them that it was you who ensured she could be legally employed in the first place and point out that the lingering stigma regarding her chosen line of work is as antiquated as its illegality."
"Generating revenue through taxable occupations is worlds away from condoning such heinous acts, Weiss, and you well know that."
"What I know is that I love Blake more than I will ever care for your opinion."
The man took one more step- his final warning- before growling out what might once have been her worst nightmare. "If you will not see reason, I'll have no choice but to disown you. You'll never amount to anything without this family to prop you up."
Once upon a time, she might've believed that in its totality, and part of it still rang true. Certainly, her political career would be over; her father would use every resource available to the Schnee name in his bid to destroy any chance she had of ever holding office. And that, she decided, was perfectly fine with her. She had other skills- some well developed and others just past the point of discovery- and she'd discarded the notion that the only 'respectable' occupations were found on some unwritten list. More importantly, what she 'amounted to' already far surpassed what he gave her credit for, and being free of the taint Jacques had attached to her family name would only serve to improve what she could become.
Weiss straightened her shoulders, bracing herself even as her voice returned to normal, a clear note of finality in her tone. "Very well. Consider me disowned." Her eyes narrowed, chin tilting up defiantly. "Just know that, of all the legacies you'll leave, Father, the one you'll be remembered for most is how you drove both your daughters to forsake the lineage you married into, all because you couldn't raise a child half as well as you could run a state." She could've left it at that- should've, really- but, for once, she gave in to the desire to drive the knife deeper, some part of her subconscious acknowledging that this might very well be the last time she had the opportunity. "And, considering your recent polls, I'd say most voters don't think you can do that too well, either."
The words landed with all the force of an explosion, a moment of disoriented incredulity splayed across the man's face before it twisted in rage. One hand raised, a balled fist as opposed to the open palms she earned in her youth, but the motion was immediately halted by the door bursting open, slamming against the wall and bouncing back towards the woman who'd opened it.
The room's occupants froze in surprise as Willow Schnee, the ever present yet hardly relevant matriarch of the family, took a moment to gather her bearings, wincing at her own obnoxiously loud entrance before recovering. She strode into the room, hair and robe flowing behind her as she made her way towards the well stocked cabinet on the far side of the study, which housed the family's most expensive collection of wines. The Governor's mansion never lacked for such signs of wealth and status, a more robust stockpile housed down in the cellar, but these bottles served as hallmarks of the Schnee's opulence.
Mostly because her mother drank them like water. "What argument have I interrupted this time?"
Her voice spoke of weariness, as it usually did. Off hand, Weiss couldn't remember a time when the woman seemed genuinely invested in the world around her, her every word speaking volumes of how little she cared about anything aside from the contents of her glass. How they managed to sound so crisp regardless of her inebriation remained a mystery.
"I've just been disowned," she said, opting for the direct route. It wasn't for her mother's sake; hearing the words- spoken in her own voice- helped solidify her decision, the tangible reality of it. Curiously, it brought a determined smile to her lips. It didn't matter how poorly this might go in the short term, she thought, because eventually she would find a way to be stable again, but without the crushing expectation of her father's impossible standards weighing down her soul.
"Have you now?" Her mother scoffed, reaching her destination and opening the cabinet. She swayed where she stood, apparently taking a moment to blink the world back into enough focus to make her selection. "I'm glad I was consulted on such matters. Really makes the impact of being disowned by a family so much stronger when there's more than one person being included in said group."
The man turned, gritting his teeth in agitation now split between both women in the room. "Willow-"
"Shut up, Jacques. You've done enough." Looking over her shoulder, her mother fixed him with a hazy glare, blue eyes sharpening for just a moment, as if it was possible to simply shake off a drunken stupor like most would shed their jacket. "After all, you've made your decision, haven't you? Or are you going to back down and beg her to stay?"
His silence spoke volumes. Pride and arrogance kept the words locked behind his teeth, impotent fury making his shoulders shake as his wife effectively backed him into a corner. Why her grandfather had chosen to let him take the office instead of his own daughter baffled Weiss; even saturated in alcohol, her mother still had a quicker wit and sharper tongue than half the boring old men who held offices in their state alone.
"Predictable." The woman turned back to the cabinet, glass clinking together as she rummaged through the bottles. "Between the three of you, you've always been the most spineless, Jacques, relying on their fear to masquerade your own cowardice. It's about time Winter-" her mother paused, looked over her shoulder again, then continued "Weiss called you on your bluff."
Mentally, she debated reminding her mother that she had a son, too, but opted against it. Whitley wholeheartedly embraced their father's way of thinking; it seemed only fitting to let him reap the benefits of that decision himself.
Retrieving two bottles from the cabinet, she left it open and turned around, her attention now focused on her younger daughter. "What was it, if I may ask? What heresy finally broke the scales in this imbalanced war for power, hmmm?"
There were many ways to phrase the answer, but again she went with the blunt option. She figured her mother would appreciate that. "I'm dating a lovely Faunus and father takes umbrage with the fact she's employed as an escort."
"A fancy way of saying 'whore'." He supplied.
"I'm well aware of what an escort is, Jacques; I'm drunk, not stupid." His wife drawled, rolling her eyes for emphasis. "Once again, I advise you to shut up; you're doing nothing but polishing your coffin at this point. The grave's already been dug." She crossed the room, a bottle in each hand and a tilt to her head, as if keeping her balance was a particularly taxing endeavor, but her gaze seemed to catch on the manila folder still sitting on the desk. "I suppose that's his evidence against you?"
"It's rather damning," Weiss replied, retrieving the picture within and presenting it towards her mother.
"An actual folder for just one? How pointlessly dramatic." The woman bent closer, inspecting the photograph with a pinched brow. "Can't make out her face too well, seeing as she's buried in your shoulder. Such compelling evidence."
Pulling her scroll out of her jacket pocket, she set the picture and folder back on the desk with one hand while the other dug into the subfolders she'd created to keep her private photos away from curious onlookers. "She was tired."
"Given what I assume to be her work schedule, I'm not surprised." Her mother stopped, looking around the darkened study, the curtains drawn tight. "Speaking of, what time is it?"
"It's midday, Mother, just past noon." Finding a suitable example- one of the times Blake's mischievous nature took hold, the scroll snapping pictures of them both while they wrestled for control of the device- she offered up the picture for the woman to scrutinize. "Her name's Blake."
"She's rather pretty. Fantastic smile, and I like the way she does her make-up. It's a shame, really; she probably knows how to navigate a conversation better than half the upstarts whose only claim to fame is being well bred. Whatever that means." Straightening up, her mother held out one of the bottles. "Here, a liberation present. Go enjoy it with her."
"Thank you." Tucking her scroll away, she accepted the bottle- a white wine, of course, and amusingly enough one that would pair excellently with tuna- before turning towards the door. "Goodbye, Mother."
"Oh, and Weiss?" Before leaving the study, she turned, meeting the woman's gaze. "Do yourself a favor: don't come back. Whatever awaits you out there will be worth much more than what you leave behind here."
She paused, then nodded and left the study without another word. Honestly, she'd had a bag packed since Winter left- filled with essentials and the bank information for an account she'd opened up under an alias- and recently she'd expanded that just a little, sensing the noose tightening around her neck. Her first order of business would be retrieving the two suitcases and backpack she'd prepared, and then she'd find a hotel room for the short term, waiting for the sun to inch towards the horizon.
As soon as Blake awoke, she would call. They… had some things to talk about.
Author's Note: Ladies and gentlemen, Mama Schnee.