In Remnant, you two could be heroes.
In Remnant, you two could be equals.
In a world full of threats, and fraught with danger, you could be together.
However, this is Remnant-but-not-quite.
There are no threats, there are no dangers.
You two, simply put, cannot be.
You were five months into 12 years old when you were introduced to each other.
The Schnee family's living room was massive, much bigger than the small cottage you lived in. It was only you, your father, and your younger sister. Mom lived with the Schnees as the head maid. And today, you shall join your mother as a servant in the Schnee household.
Servant-in-training, at least until he was 16. Can't be breaking child labor laws, after all.
Your family served the Schnees for 10 generations. You're just the latest in that long line of maids, butlers, and yes, even servants.
Whoever told your ancestor that being a butler was God's greatest occupation took the phrase "serve your fellow man" a bit too literally, and deserved to be punched in the face.
Nonetheless, you were expected to serve the Schnees, and the money they offered wasn't half-bad, especially for an initial lump sum, plus the salary. Put in a trust fund until you were 16, sure, and the actual salary was more realistic, but money was still money.
And damn, you could move into your own house in Atlas when you finally got it. No one said you had to stay a servant forever.
Your mother was chosen to served Mrs. Schnee, later Mr. Schnee as well, you were chosen to serve the heir apparent. The thought filled you with dread: Whitley? Seriously? You knew what Whitley was like, as did all your broken toys when you were 5. You wonder if it was too late to run.
Your legs probably wouldn't have gotten you far, anyway. Not to mention your uncomfortable hand-me-down uniform.
Maybe you'd get a proper uniform when you actually start working for the heir. It would be nice; at least you get new clothes.
Another one of the family's servants entered the room. "Mr. Schnee will enter shortly, along with his daughter"
Your mother nods. You and her move towards the centre table. The other servant mentioned a daughter: could it be Winter? She was friendly growing up, always sharing her snacks when you occasionally came over. But your older sister was already at her beck and call, though. Besides, she was away in military school.
Surprise came over you when Mr Schnee entered the room, Weiss in tow.
The Schnee daughter you never really knew. You knew she was around, of course: she was there whenever you visited your mother. You think you've talked once or twice? This was the first time you're actually have an actual meaningful conversation.
"Son, you know Weiss," your mother says. "Starting today, you're going to learn how to be her servant."
Well… at least it's not Whitley. You extend a hand towards her, a theatrical smile on your face.
"Good morning, Miss Schnee, you say in the most formal voice you can muster, "I hope we can be the best of friends."
She just stares at you, arms crossed over chest, a raised eyebrow.
"I'm not shaking your hand."
This is gonna be a long 4 years.
You were 13 when you started to work for the Schnees in an unofficial capacity.
Your first year in the Schnee household was devoted to study. Your mother habitually woke you up along with her. You shadowed your mother and the other servants, learning the basics of serving.
When you weren't learning the ropes of being a good servant to Weiss, or reading the helpful Weiss cheat-sheet your mother gave you (the three sizes were a bit much though), you would usually attempt to converse with your future charge, with varying degrees of success.
It's never a full conversation, though. Small talk, sure, but that's about it. A shame, really. You'd love nothing more than to be one of those snarky butlers in those shows you watched on your scroll. Then again, based on your wit (or lack thereof), maybe you should be thankful that the opportunities are non-existent.
Still, since you were going to wait on her for… 4 more years, you kinda need to talk to her.
The other servants helped you out. Miss Painter taught you the best way to wash clothes, how to iron them, and how to fold them. Mr Sheffield, one of the cooks, taught you exactly how Weiss loved her scrambled eggs. Mr House, the janitor and handyman, taught you how to make basic house repairs, as well as, funnily enough, garment repair. Mr Egerton, the head butler, taught you how to speak, how to walk, and how to be a proper gentleman. "A servant follows the standard set by his master," he said. "Only a gentleman can properly serve a lady."
None of them knew how to properly talk to Weiss, though.
Well, when in doubt, mother knows best.
"Don't be pushy," she said. "Find something you both are interested in."
Sure enough, that's what you did. You kept silent, only spoke when spoken to. Real servant stuff. Meanwhile, you tried to find something, anything, in common.
You made headway a few days later.
It was a routine day: knock on her door, and ask if she needed help. Entering the door, you see her in front of the dresser, busy doing her make-up. She points to a desk near the massive window, telling you to wait near there.
You've never really noticed the finer details of the room until now. Aside from the dresser next to her bed (a really big bed, mind), the large window on the wall directly across the door lit up the room. Shelves of books surrounded the window-wall, one of them having the desk you've been told to wait at right in front of it.
You look at the desk, covered with application papers and brochures. Most of them are about Atlesian academies: Atlas, Alsius, all big names. However, one brochure in particular catches your eye.
Beacon Academy.
Ever since you were a kid, you've heard about that academy. Most of its graduates went on to become leaders in their fields. You remembered Dr. Oobleck's discovery of fossilized Grimm in the heart of the Menagerie Desert, the most intact specimens yet, and his subsequent cameo in "Ancient Remnant Park". You read Peter Port's series of Johnny Arbiter action novels, especially since they were based on his real experiences during the war.
The fact that Beacon also offered lower rates than Atlesian schools never crossed your mind, oh no.
Ever since you were a kid, you knew you had to attend that school, and you knew that your trust fund could pay for the tuition. Let your family worry about how you were going to pay for stuff like school supplies, or a place to sleep in, or food, this school was your gateway to the world.
You were caught up reading the brochure when an ahem brought you back to Remnant. Weiss was done with her make up, and now she's just waiting for you to put down the brochure you've been so absorbed in.
"Planning to go to Beacon?" you ask.
Weiss turns to you, a neutral expression on her face. "I plan to, yes. Why?"
You mention how it was an ambition of yours to attend the academy, how you wanted to explore Remnant and see for yourself what it was like: the cityscapes of Vale, the heat of Menagerie, the forests of Haven…
You see a small smile form on her lips. "Well," she says, standing up and taking the brochure from you. "Let's hope you get in too, shall we?"
You followed up with what Vale was like. She asked about the lives of the graduates of Beacon. You talked about Ancient Remnant Park and the Johnny Arbiter books. She talked about her favorite restaurants and popular hotspots.
Before you two knew it, it's been a few hours. If you weren't friends before, you sure were now.
AN: Do people even read Author's Notes?
