Weiss was beyond aggravated. She had just fought for a good half an hour with her father, about her not being ready to marry, how she wanted to have a say in what her life was going to be and how she didn't even have the time to get to know her fiancé altogether.
She knew these were sullen times for women, that opposing your own blood could get you disowned, disgraced or have you end up in treacherous punishments, and yet it was there, the strong will, the need to be free, to rebel against what was planned for her, the overwhelming dream to spite whomever dared to counter her wishes.

That was, until her father caught up with her to her room after chasing her down the halls.

He found her standing on the balcony, her hands on the thick marble railing, looking out in the distance, as if lost in another world.

After their heated argument, she needed some fresh air to cool down, but it seemed that her father didn't care much for that, as he went on rambling, fury reflecting in his sharp glare and coating his face in an angry red.

"How dare you flee from the conversation we were having! Is this the way to treat your father, you ungrateful child?!" He steamed, grabbing Weiss' arm tight and tugging it towards him harshly.

"OUCH! Father let go of me! It hurts!" Weiss shrieked in protest to the brute force he was using.

"And it will hurt even MORE if you don't obey my commands!"

He squeezed her arm, tightening his grip even further, as the poor princess winced in pain. Dragging her with him back to the door, he slammed it shut and threw his daughter to the floor next to it.

"This will be my last warning, Weiss. I am not a patient man and I am not going to become one just to please your whims!" He shouted, his body language becoming all the more threatening.

The young princess didn't seem to read the danger in his movements though, as she helped herself back up on her feet and stared back with an equally scary, icy glare.

"Try me!" she quite literally spat back in his face.

And that was the last straw.

A very loud slap could be heard even from the gardens below the balcony, one that sent Weiss flying for a good couple of meters. She landed on the cold, rough cobblestone floor with a sickening thud, a cry erupting from her lungs as the arm she used to protect herself from the fall sent a stab like signal to her brain, reverberating through her whole body.

Fear took hold of her as she looked back up at her father. The girl had seen him angry before, but never had he dared to lift a single finger against her.

With the slap still pulsating on her left cheek, the five fingers' print gloving in contrast to her pale skin, her father closed in again, this time drawing out the sword he so proudly wore to his side at all times, a sight that made her wince, whimper and curl up in a fetal position, her unharmed arm being the only form of protection drawn close to her face, leaving her side exposed.

The mad man swung the sword around, making sure the sharp blade would face away from his only daughter as he took aim and bashed the blunt knob of the weapon into her ribs, once, twice, the third hit landing near her lower back as the princess cried her eyes out, terrified.

It was mere seconds, but it felt like an eternity to Weiss, when he finally withdrew his weapon and slid it back into its sheath. She couldn't look at him, her sobs leaving her wounded body uncontrollably and painfully, probably due to the broken ribs and deep bruises that were left behind.

"We are done here for today. But don't think this is over. You will marry Sir Vasilias, be it the last thing you do. I gave my word to his family that you would be his bride and I AM GOING TO KEEP MY OATH, to protect our honor and the status symbol of our name. Like it or not, this is your fate. The sooner you come to terms with it, the less you'll have to suffer the consequences of your insufferable actions and insolence!"

Weiss winced again as she heard the loud slam of the door, so violent that its after quake detached a painting from the wall, the frame soon smashing on the ground.

Her sobs continued incessantly, echoing through the large room, reaching the ears of a young woman that had been attentively listening to the whole ordeal for quite a while, the face of the young gardener filled with concern, her scythe discarded next to her since long.

Ruby Rose was the daughter of a poor farmer. She barely knew how to read, write and spell her own name, let alone understand the intricacies of the life of noblemen and women. What she could understand and feel though, was the sorrow the young princess had been forced through, a burden she would not even wish onto her worst enemies. In moments like these, she was truly happy not to be highborn at all. Her mother, who had since passed when she was a child, always told her to treat people and things with dearest care and respect. Violence was the way of cold hearted beasts, men that turned into animals as soon as they were given a weapon and a battlefield, attracting yet more Grimm that would join in unison to the battle screams, fear and destruction that followed. She taught her how to love and how to deal with the most impossible situations. This is why she owed her so much and wore her cloak at work… and at all times, really. In a way, it made her feel like her mother never left her and reinforced the bond they shared. She wore it with pride every day, and now, as she looked up at the fancy balcony, her hands traced the hem of its cloth.

"What would mom do?" She pondered, whispering to herself, as a thought started to form in her mind.

She picked up her second most beloved object: her red colored scythe, disappearing into a burst of rose petals, the semblance being her signature whenever she would leave for a new destination.

Weiss had forced herself …more like crawled, to the king sized bed that towered over the room. With every brink of hope gone, she sank deeper into the mattress, abandoning herself to her impending and unchangeable fate. She dared not imagine what else her father could have done if she disobeyed him again.
He was the ruler of Atlas. No one could oppose him. He had started wars to defend their name and would showcase his power to anyone who got in his way, endless fleets and armies marching over burnt towns. Hell, she couldn't remember the last time her father actually lost a battle. It used to be something she could take pride in, but now more than ever did she realize how these facts were all but glorious. Her father was a heartless, ruthless warmonger, who threatened people into submission and adulation. If anything, it was only a matter of time, before he would end up with a knife in his throat, for all the children he slaughtered, the lives he destroyed, the lands and possessions he took and hopefully: for the way he treated her.
Weiss felt empty, broken and inclined to hate the man related to her, who had so simply, without a second thought, beaten her to a pulp for not turning out how he expected her to be. Not that she ever felt much love for him to begin with, but if there had ever been any, it was gone now.

The lively rustling of leaves broke her depressing train of thought and made her alert of someone or something nestling in the tree adjacent to her balcony.
As her breath hitched in her throat at the noise, Weiss tried to strain her eyes to see in the darker shade brought by the evening. A slim but elegant figure had jumped atop the edge of the marble railing. From the outlines, she could tell that the intruder wore a cloak. With the new moon (typically shattered, a focal point in the world of Remnant) up high in the sky being the only source of light to distinguish any colors of the stranger's wear, Weiss was able to identify a faint shade of dark red, one that must have looked very bright, like a blood spurt on a white cloth, during the daytime.

The shady figure left what looked like a white rose along with a tiny piece of paper or cloth – whichever it was, she couldn't tell from the distance – dissipating into a whirlwind of rose petals soon after. Before moving any closer to the suspicious items, she waited several minutes, unsure about whether or not she should approach them at all. It could be a trap or an assassin sent out to terminate her, seen how many foes her family seemed to gain every day and what better way to harm the old Schnee ruler than to kill his one and only heir with a trick like this one. Weiss knew better than to fall for a trap this obvious. She quickly lurched forward, the pain still stabbing her sides and lower back, as she reached under the bed and pulled out the stolen rapier, hiding it behind her back. The lightweight sword belonged to her father's military parade outfit, but she had laid her eyes on it since its first appearance, when she was just five years old; she kept training with it in secret, reading through tomes about fencing and dueling, sharpening the previously blunt and only ornamental blade of the sword into a dangerous tool, both ideal for offense and defense. It could easily cut through anything thicker than a chair's leg. One of the many chairs and pieces of furniture in her room had been tested on with a rather pleasant result. To avoid being found out, she hired a specialized craftsman and a blacksmith to put a long, robust nail or two where needed, reassembling the broken piece and making it hardly noticeable that it ever withheld any kind of damage at all.

As she closed in to the doors of the balcony, she hid behind the curtains and slowly creaked the frames open. Her stern blue eyes never faltering, she kept an attentive gaze on the tree and her surroundings. Nothing in sight. Careful to not let her guard down, she approached the items, limping a bit but sword held high in front of her. Her free hand was able to grab the note and rose from the cold surface. Not a second later, she rushed back inside, shutting the doors behind her.
Curiosity washed over her as she analyzed the objects at hand, turning them around over and over, checking for powders or poisons. Finding no such things, she looked at the piece of paper first. It had something scribbled on it, and that was putting it kindly. The person, who miserably attempted to write on it, not only had a chicken scratch kind of handwriting, but also lacked in basic literacy, as it was impossible to decipher what the distorted letters on the paper were supposed to mean. Weiss kept glaring at them, trying to put them together in any possible way. Were they a hidden message? Some sort of secret code? Who was the mysterious red-cloaked individual? So many questions left unanswered.
The whole thing was starting to frustrate her, nagging her to a point where she couldn't bring her logic thinking to work anymore. Giving up on the piece of paper, she looked at the white rose instead. The petals were immensely soft and silky at the barest touch, its fragrance sweetly caressing the heiress' senses. Who could have gifted her with a rose this rare? That same person even went through all the trouble of removing the thorns that were evidently present on the stem of the flower. She unconsciously held the gift close to her heart. It was certain now; this person wasn't trying to threaten her at all, if anything, she seemed to have a secret admirer.

A small blush crept its way on the princess' cheeks, leading her gaze back to the windowed doors of the balcony. She didn't really know what to make of the rose or the feelings behind it, but the very least she could do was respect the romantic and loving sentiment of her pursuer.
She settled for placing the white rose in a small crystal vase on her dressing table. If she were to ever encounter the mysterious admirer again, she would thank them properly and perhaps ask for the meaning behind the words on the unreadable paper that was left with it.

Soon enough, exhaustion took over the young, injured princess, having her slip back in under the warm covers of her royal bed. She fell asleep while staring at the rose.

"Maybe there is still some hope to get out of this" she thought, before drifting off into deep sleep.