"I'm not your pet
not another thing you own
I was not born guilty of your crimes
Your riches and your influence
can't hold me anymore
I won't be possessed
burdened by your royal test
I will not surrender, this life is mine"
Jacques Schnee was taking his breakfast with his son, Whitley in one of the smaller dining rooms of Schnee Manor. The two of them were due at the office soon, Whitley learning what he would one day need to know to take over the Schnee Dust Company. Jacques frowned. In many ways, he was less impressed with Whitley than he had been with his daughters. If he had to admit it, Whitley was something of a spineless sycophant. But both of his daughters had made their defiance of him quite clear. First Winter and then Weiss had broken ties with him, making their own way in the world. He was fairly certain that Winter was still in the Atlesian military, a myrmidon taking orders from General Ironwood. Weiss, he had no clue where she was at or what she was doing; as long as she kept out of his way and didn't embarrass the family name, he didn't truly care.
He supposed that the fire that both his daughters had but his son lacked might have been useful if he'd been able to channel it, harness it, but in retrospect, there had been little hope of that. His mistake had been to allow the girls more freedom than had been wise; fathers are sometimes overly indulgent with daughters, and in this case, it had been his undoing.
Jacques saw Whitley pause in reading the paper, scanning the page in front of him slowly and carefully. "Something of interest?"
Whitley shook his head. "I don't think it would be of much interest to you, Father. Someone I know is getting married; they took out a full-page announcement in the paper. I haven't spoken with them in some time, but I would like to attend the wedding if I am invited."
Jacques nodded. Keeping up appearances was important; a Schnee was expected to meet certain social obligations. "It still might be a good idea to call them and issue congratulations even if you don't get invited to the wedding. And remember to give some thought to a wedding gift if you're invited. Make sure it reflects both you and the recipients."
Whitley nodded and continued reading the paper, marking Jacques assumed was the wedding announcement with a finger.
One of the security staff whispered into Jacques's ear. "Sir, your daughter is here, should we let her in?"
"Which daughter?"
"W-" the man began, only to be interrupted as Weiss strode into the room, rendering both question and answer irrelevant. "Father, Whitley, good morning. I'll admit I left under somewhat less than the best of circumstances, but I hardly expected to be met at the gate with armed resistance." She assumed a waiting posture, arms crossed in front of her. Behind her waited a black-haired Faunus woman with cat ears; Jacques vaguely recognized her as one of Weiss's teammates from Beacon Academy. Probably here in case Weiss intended something barbaric and rude.
Jacques stood, adjusting his collar. "I think that will be all," he said, glaring at the security staffer. Apparently, he needed to reassess the security staff; he was certainly about to have some fresh openings. "Weiss, what is the meaning of this intrusion? Please, you and your... companion should have a seat."
"Oh don't bother bringing out the false civility or hospitality, Father." Weiss's tone made the word a curse. "I'm just here to deliver some personal news, then I'll be on my way. It's been years since we spoke, and if someone," her eyes darted toward the black-haired woman for a moment, "hadn't insisted, I wouldn't be here at all."
"I see. Very well, deliver your news."
"I'm getting married."
"To whom? I can't imagine you meet very many suitable candidates, given your the life you lead and your line of work."
"Oh, they're very 'suitable' indeed, but only by my standards, not yours." She gestured, and the woman standing behind her stepped forward, interlacing her fingers with Weiss's. "Father, Whitley, it gives me great pleasure to introduce my fiancee, Blake Belladonna."
Jacques froze in horror for a moment; from the corner of his eye, he could see Whitley start to grin, then slip back into his usual neutral expression. "You can't do this! I forbid it; it's a disgrace to the Schnee family name!" Jacques roared, stepping around the table toward his daughter.
"Shut. Up. Father." Weiss hissed, every word impacting him like a gunshot. "You gave up any say in how I ran my life years ago, when you stole my legacy from me, made me a prisoner in my own home. My life is mine now, and I'll live it as I please, with whoever I want. Blake may not be 'suitable'," at this, she released Blake's hand to make air quotes with her fingers, "but we love each other, and to me, that's what matters. So this is your last warning: If you can't accept the life I choose, stay the hell out of it. Oh, and one more thing." Wiess produced a trio of envelopes with a flourish. "Wedding invitations, not that I really expect any of you to attend. One for you, Father, one for you, Whitley, and one for Mother, assuming she's not yet too drunk to accept it."
Whitley took his envelope, opening it and scanning the invitation inside. "Actually, I think I will attend. It's not every day my older sister gets married. I'll make sure Mother gets her as well. And I do hope we'll find time for lunch sometime before the wedding; it's been some time since we spoke, Weiss."
Jacques stared at him aghast. "Don't tell me you're actually condoning this, Whitley."
"I don't think condone is the word I'd use, 'accept' perhaps. As Weiss points out, we don't have any control over her life anymore."
Weiss nodded, a slightly puzzled look on her face. "We'll... have to have that lunch sometime soon I think, Whitley. In any case, I've got other invitations to deliver, and other friends to notify."
"This isn't over, Weiss!" Jacques shouted.
"No, the wedding hasn't happened yet, after all," Weiss tossed over her shoulder as she and Blake left.
Jacques Schnee stood there, fists curled in rage, then turned back to the dining table only find Whitley standing and putting on his coat. "And just where do you think you're going?"
"Shopping, I think. After all, a wedding gift should reflect both the giver and the recipients." Whitley flipped the paper open and spun it around before departing, leaving Jacques staring at the full-page announcement of Blake and Weiss's wedding.