Psycho
Summary: This scene supplants/replaces the interaction between Weiss and Whitley in Volume 4 Chapter 9 to take the story in an entirely different direction.
Where is Mama Schnee and why haven't we seen her on screen? Weiss - getting ready to break out of her imprisonment in her room - is determined to find out what's going on with her mother, no matter who stands in her way. Fic is a family-centered drama/suspense story that takes a Hitchcock-inspired turn for the worse.
Warning: This particular chapter contains semi-horror fic.
Almost there… thought Weiss, eyes closed in concentration.
Unconsciously, her grip tightened on the hilt of her sword as she felt the energy surge. It was like a knot coming undone in her stomach – the energy flowed and something just clicked.
In her mind, she could see a sword rising from the ground, pommel first. Inch by inch, the summoning came forth.
"Hello sister."
Weiss growled under her breath as her tether to the glyph snapped and the summoning failed. Shattered blue shards of energy shimmered and disappeared in front of her – erasing the sword.
"Yes, Whitley," she chirped, annoyed.
"What exactly are you trying to accomplish with all this," he said, waving a hand at where the glyph had been only a moment before.
"Do you really care?" asked Weiss.
He smiled.
"No, I guess not," he replied, folding his hands behind his back as he stood in the doorway.
"Then what do you want?"
"Just offering a favor," he said, leaning his shoulder against the doorjamb. "Father's taking me into town, and I was just wondering if you wanted me to pick up anything for you – seeing as how you're… stuck here."
The smile on his face widened, sliding back over his white teeth.
You're enjoying this aren't you, thought Weiss, glowering.
"Just leave Whitley," said Weiss, turning and raising Myrtenaster – preparing to attempt the summoning again.
"As you wish," said Whitley with a mocking bow.
As he turned on his heel to leave, a thought occurred to Weiss.
Begrudgingly, she said, "Wait."
Whitley stopped, his back to Weiss.
"Yes?" he purred.
For what felt like the hundredth time, Weiss asked, "Where's mother? She hasn't come by since I've been stuck in here." Glaring, she studied her brother's back. "And don't just tell me she's drinking in the garden again."
Whitley turned his chin and stared at her in profile. A grin still pulled up at the corner of his lips.
"Oh, I'm sure she's around here somewhere – I could've sworn I heard the clink of glasses earlier…"
Weiss's cheeks flushed and she frowned, irritated.
"Dammit Shitley that's not an answer!" she shouted, fists clenching.
Immediately, he spun around – anger flashing in his steel blue eyes as the smug smile slipped from his face. He stormed across the room in a few quick strides.
"I told you not to call me that!" he screamed, grabbing the wrist of her sword hand.
There you are, thought Weiss, studying the change in her brother's features.
His chest heaved heavily as he furiously tugged in deep breaths, and his hand twisted around her wrist – his fingers blanching white.
Weiss met his gaze confidently, enjoying the reaction she'd elicited from her brother. Forcefully, she flicked her wrist and spun the blade of her sword forward – Myrtenaster's sharp edge resting lightly against his leg.
After letting the cold steel rest there for a moment – a silent, simple threat – Weiss yanked her arm out of his grasp with a quick jerk.
Whitley hissed and retracted his hand, cradling it against his chest as if it were wounded. Smug smile returning – although somewhat strained – Whitley walked back towards the door.
"No matter," he said after a moment, his voice even. He turned to look back at Weiss over his shoulder. "Father's waiting."
"Then leave!" snapped Weiss.
Pointing her sword, a glyph appeared on the door and in an instant it slammed shut. The last thing she saw before it closed was the look of surprise on Whitley's face – his eyes wide and his mouth open.
The sound of Whitley's footsteps stomping down the hall disappeared as Weiss started to pace angrily back and forth across her room. Still gripping Myrtenaster tightly in her left hand, Weiss remembered the one and only time she'd even seen her mother since returning to Atlas.
It was just after her father had dragged her home from Vale. She was standing in the hall, just after breakfast time.
She had seen Whitley there, walking past her.
"…somebody shouting in Father's office…"
"…mother? …"
"…no, she's already drinking in the garden…"
Curious, Weiss had snuck away later that morning. Wending her way through the house, she eventually arrived at the wide double doors that led to the large indoor garden. The doors were comprised of latticed glass held in hand-carved white frames.
One of the doors stood slightly open. Pushing on the cool wood with her hand, Weiss stepped into the garden.
In front of her was a small set of patio furniture, decorated in simple patterns of white, blue, and green. The colors were slightly faded, muted memories of what they once were.
She walked past it and turned a corner around a small weeping cherry tree.
Ahead, she could see a figure sitting in the garden, facing a small, round pond.
Stepping closer, Weiss saw that her mother sat with her back to her in a high, cane back chair – a particular favorite spot of hers. All Weiss could see of her mother was a bit of white hair, one hand draped over an arm of the chair – the other holding aloft a half empty glass, carelessly.
"Mother?" asked Weiss, hesitantly. She paused, waiting. "Mom?"
Still there was no answer. She took a step forward – one hand reaching towards her mother's back.
"What are you doing in here?" demanded her father's voice, appearing right behind her.
Weiss jumped and spun around to face him.
"Leave your mother be," he barked. He grabbed Weiss by the shoulder – his long, thin fingers digging into her back – and shoved her back the way she came.
They marched out of the garden and her father turned to shut the door tight behind them with a sharp click.
That was the last Weiss had seen of her mother.
Determined, Weiss stopped pacing – the clacking of her heels on the floor came to a sudden halt. Gritting her teeth, she took up her pose – one foot forward, knees bent – and flourished her sword, driving the tip into the tiles beneath her.
She tapped back into the flow of energy, and she felt her semblance unfurling like wings in her stomach. She felt an icy heat flutter over her skin and she peeked up under her bangs, eyes settling on the painting of the armored knight that was hanging on the wall.
A shimmering glyph bloomed on the floor, spinning and growing with each passing second. After a moment, something changed and Weiss felt a sudden release – like a weight dropping from her chest.
A shockwave rippled through the room, a white light shining, and Weiss ducked as the window shattered beside her.
Straightening up, Weiss smiled.
"Miss Schnee!" cried Klein, the door to her room slamming open. "What happened – are you alright? I heard-"
The words died in his mouth when Klein saw the knight kneeling before Weiss – cloaked in swirling blue energy like a wraith. Its massive sword glinted in the light that shone through the broken window.
Triumphant, Weiss beamed at him.
"Klein," she said, "I need a favor."
Snapping his jaw shut, Klein recovered his composure and straightened.
"Of course, Miss Schnee," he said, eyes sparkling with pride.
I'm finally getting out, thought Weiss, bustling about her room.
At her request, Klein had secreted some supplies – food, water, etc. – out of the kitchens and the store cupboards for her journey. Packing them neatly, he had left them in her room and watched her getting ready to leave.
As the time drew near, he murmured a soft goodbye, smiling as he left to go stand guard at the end of the hall. If her father or Whitley decided to check on her in her room after they'd returned from town, Klein would try to divert them.
Belting Myrtenaster onto her hip, Weiss smiled – remembering.
I'm ready.
The last piece of the puzzle had fallen into place when she'd finally achieved the summoning. This stage of her training was complete – or as complete as it was going to get for now.
She hadn't mastered it yet, but she could summon – and she could do it well. The summoning had lasted several minutes before the strain on her semblance had grown too great, forcing her to release the knight or let her aura break.
With this new weapon in her arsenal, she was ready to leave and fight her way back to her team, no matter the cost.
But she had something to do first.
I just need to make sure she's alright before I go… thought Weiss, letting the door to her room swing open.
Patting the satchel on her back, Weiss reassured herself that she had everything she needed. Her mouth settling into a grim line, she marched down the hall in a succession of quick, confident strides.
She passed Klein in the hallway, squeezing his arm as she went. Without a backward glance, she descended down the winding staircase – wincing at the loud, clicking sound of her heels.
Hurrying, she half-walked, half-ran through the house. Several times she caught herself holding her breath as she slipped from room to room – but luckily she saw neither any of the staff nor her family as she picked her way through the Schnee mansion.
Feeling like a prisoner on the run, a thought occurred to Weiss that nearly pulled her up short.
There's nothing left for me here. This isn't my home anymore…
Shaking her head, Weiss pushed on past the large dining room, taking a circuitous route through the house as she avoided her father's study and other rooms that were likely to be occupied at this time of day.
Distantly she heard the shuffling of feet and the murmur of low voices. Panicking, she ducked into a nearby room – an abandoned parlor they only used when entertaining guests. Slipping inside, she closed the door slowly – trying to muffle the sound.
It was dark – the curtains were drawn and Weiss didn't dare turn on the lights, afraid that whoever was passing by would see the light under the door and wonder who was in the usually empty parlor.
Nervously, she looked around her – knowing about where the tables and chairs should be – but unable to see anything in the inky black shadows. Shivering, she pressed her ear to the door, waiting.
Straining to hear, she picked up on what she thought was a conversation about that night's menu by two members of the wait staff. Frowning, she tried to imagine their progress down the hall as they first approached the door behind which she was hiding and then slowly walked away, disappearing in the direction of the kitchens.
Belatedly, Weiss noticed she was biting down on her lower lip hard enough to draw blood.
Nervous habit, she thought, licking away the hot, red tears that welled up from the cut.
After a minute, she heard their voices grow louder until it sounded like they were just outside the door. For a moment, they seemed to stop, discussing something Weiss couldn't hear through the thick wood of the parlor door.
C'mon, keep moving…
Weiss's nails dug into her palms as she clenched her hands into fists. She counted to ten in her head, once, twice, three times. They were still on the other side of the door talking.
Why are they still stopped?!
Anxiously, Weiss checked to make sure she still had all of her belongings with her, struck by the irrational fear that she'd dropped something in the hall. For a moment her heart pounded against her ribs until she'd reassured herself that she still had everything.
Straightening up, Weiss resisted the urge to start pacing – worried that she'd bump into an end table somewhere in the darkness.
She cast a quick glance around the room, and the hair on the back of her neck pricked up from her skin. Suddenly, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone else was in the room with her, watching.
After what felt like an hour but couldn't have been more than a couple minutes, the muffled voices on the other side of the door started to fade as the two staff members ambled down the hallway.
Weiss held her breath – listening intently for any small sound.
She waited – first one minute, and then another. Still uncertain, Weiss reached a hesitant hand towards the doorknob.
They're gone, and if I wait any longer, someone else might come…
Cautiously, she opened the door inch by inch. When it was just wide enough, Weiss slipped through the opening – eyes scanning the hallway. After she was sure there was nobody nearby, she turned to close the parlor door.
The cold tingling sensation on the back of her neck started to prick at her again, and she peered into the room – eyes searching the places where the sliver of light from the hallway landed.
All she saw were tables and chairs laid out neatly on an ornate rug. No one was there.
Berating herself, she closed the door and hurried off down the hallway.
After another few minutes of ducking through unoccupied rooms, Weiss managed to arrive back at the double glass doors that led to the garden.
Reaching for the gold handle, her hand was steady but she felt like her skin was humming. A nervous energy thrummed in her chest and she focused on her breathing. Casting one last quick glance over her shoulder, Weiss cracked open the door and hastily stepped inside.
She closed the door as gently as she could before tiptoeing around the patio set near the entrance to the garden. She turned down the path just as she had last time, instinct guiding her to her mother's preferred seat by the reflection pond.
Peeking around the long, slumped branches of the weeping cherry tree, Weiss caught a glimpse of the pond.
"Mother?" she said, her voice small and childlike.
As before, her mother was seated in her high, cane backed chair with her back to Weiss. Weiss noticed the drink her mother's hand, the light cherry-brown liquid sloped in the lazily tipped glass. She could smell notes of honey and something else in the air, emanating from the glass.
Weiss took another step towards the reflection pond.
"Mother?"
Still, no response. Her mother sat silently, facing away from Weiss.
Weiss's eyes narrowed. Something about the glass bothered her.
Weiss froze, trying to puzzle it out. Silence reined in the garden – not even a gentle cross breeze to rustle the leaves on their vines.
What…
Slowly, a vein of ice blossomed in Weiss's heart.
The glass… it's half-empty like before.
The glass – held in her mother's right hand – was exactly as full as it had been the last time Weiss had wandered into the garden. The longer Weiss stared at it, unmoving in her mother's upheld hand, the deeper the seed of dread sank into her gut.
"Mom…"
Forcing herself to move, Weiss closed the gap between them with a few stiff strides.
Steeling herself, Weiss sucked in a breath and held it in her lungs – ribs groaning as she reached out with one hand.
Mom?
Exhaling heavily she tugged on the chair and spun it around.
"Mom!"
Disturbed by the sudden motion, the glass tumbled to the ground – the warm brown liquid spilling in the grass. It landed with a muffled thump, rolling on its side.
Weiss gasped and swallowed a small shriek, her hand recoiling from the chair as she jumped back.
"No…" she whispered. "No, no, no, no, no…"
Dumbly, she repeated the word under her breath – voice fading until her lips moved soundlessly.
Sitting slumped in the chair, her mother's head lolled to one side, and her right hand stayed stiffly in place – holding a glass that was no longer there.
Staring back at Weiss were two desiccated sockets where there should have been eyes. They gaped open like black holes in her mother's face. The skin around them was dry and wrinkled, and her mouth hung open, not quite closed.
Bile rose in Weiss's throat, burning, but her eyes stayed glued to the taxidermied corpse of her mother.
Weiss jumped – muscles clenching – as a scream ripped through the air in the garden, and still her eyes never left her mother's face.
"Weiss no!" shrieked Whitley, appearing on the other side of the small pond. His voice ripped through several octaves as he stomped closer.
Almost unfeeling, Weiss half-listened. Her mind was blank – devoid of thought – and still she mouthed the silent words, "No, no, no…"
"Weiss! Get away from there!" yelled her brother, practically pouting. His cheeks flushed red with anger.
"Mother is resting! How dare you disturb her!" He circled around the pond, getting in Weiss's face. "Leave her alone!"
His hot breath rolled over her face in waves. Some small part of her snapped back to attention, and her eyes gradually drifted from the body in the chair to Whitley's sharp blue eyes.
For a moment, brother and sister simply stared at one another – Weiss unmoving as Whitley practically shook from head to toe, outraged.
Whitley… she thought, her mind moving sluggishly.
After another moment of silence, she spoke – her voice a broken whisper.
"What have you done?"
Author's note: So! Strange semi-head canon about how Weiss's never-on-screen mother has actually been Norman-Bates'ed and is permanently "drinking in the garden." Idea for the fic came from a joke I've made with some of my friends about the often mentioned but never seen Mama Schnee.
Not my best writing, but I figured I'd share in case anyone else might get a kick out of a Psycho-esc plot twist for everybody's favorite Ice Queen (and also because I've never posted anything Weiss-centric before so, you know, might as well)! Feel free to lemme know what you think in the reviews/send me a PM!