The hunter left the dining hall, with a few kind comments to the staff, and ducked through the doorway Winter had taken, determination pinching her brow. The woman hadn't made it very far, though, walking much slower than her stature should allow, and she turned to look at Yang over her shoulder once she noticed she was being followed.
"What do you want, Huntress?"
"Pardon the intrusion, Miss Winter-" She ignored the eye roll and disgruntled huff at the honorific. "-but it seems like you're… not feeling well."
The woman watched her, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "And what, exactly, are you attempting to imply with that accusation."
"You're limping, Miss Winter-"
"You needn't refer to me every sentence; I'll not forget who I am between addresses." The acid from before returned, tenfold; she wasn't family and not afforded the mercy of remorse for the bluntness. "If you must know, I experienced a rare bout of clumsiness this morning and fell against my bedside table." Winter turned, continuing the way she was heading. "I'm not sure what bearing that has on why you're here but now you know. Be on your way."
Yang pursed her lips, watching the woman's stiff posture and the slight annoyance hunching her shoulders, then pressed forward. "Someone needs to look at it."
"I'll have no one else mock my clumsiness, thank you." Winter scoffed, turning to continue down the hall. "A scratch from a stumble is hardly cause to alert the castle healer."
"It could get infected or worse." The hunter followed a few steps behind, watching the noble's unsteady gait. To most, it would hardly be noticeable, but during her brief time in Atlas' capital, Yang had learned to read the royal family very well.
The King had more ambition than sense, and he walked like a man with an all consuming purpose completely unaware of the dangers around him, so absolutely possessed of his own superiority. The Queen… had more sense than care and frankly more liquor in her pinky than either. Borne in litters and chairs by servants, she couldn't possibly keep her legs beneath her, nor her wits about her. A shame, considering the stories of who the Queen used to be before her marriage.
That left the royal children, the real masters of the castle, seeing as the King spent more time in the war room and the Queen probably didn't know where she was. The youngest- Prince Whitley- existed as the embodiment of every ill whisper peasants traded between them: spoiled, loud, and generally impaired sense of the world. His attendants constantly flocking around him, protecting him from the truth; he walked as children often do, with a certain fearlessness, but at nearly sixteen that carelessness looked more like foolishness. The middle child- Princess Weiss- was far more serious, if still lacking a proper sense of her place in the world. She wanted to do it all, rule in absolutes and eliminate grey areas, lead Atlas into a brighter future to fulfill a much different vision than her father saw. Unlike the rest of her family, Princess Weiss seemed to listen to others and take their comments to heart, not just her sister's; Yang had to assume the ever present shadow who so often attended the Princess had something to do with the seemingly sudden disdain for the discrimination against Faunus that remained a long held tradition in Atlas. Frankly, the crown could use such an updated view, and Princess Weiss possessed the force of will to see her aims through.
That left the eldest, the disinherited former heiress apparent to the throne. Although given a prestigious position at the head of Atlas's army, what little whispers Yang had caught hinted at a terrible falling out between the King and his eldest child, but she carried herself proudly, chin tilted up in resolute defiance. Every step seemed sure, the very idea of faltering laughable, and her precarious position within the castle seemed to enforce that heavily, the King's attention only ever moving away from his maps and strategies to land heavily upon Winter. At first, Yang thought the woman bore it out of stubborn pride, but the truth became more apparent with each passing day: as long as Winter stood ready to trip up, the King watched her like a hawk, and completely missed how Princess Weiss walked further and further from the path he'd laid out for her.
Yang had no illusions about this objection. The woman needed tending, but if she faltered, the King would declare her unfit for her position, perhaps banish her elsewhere, and his attention could turn to Weiss, who at twenty years old stood ready to assume the throne yet unprepared for the undertaking of combating her father in tandem with helping her people. Still, she couldn't allow Winter to suffer in silence; she'd been hired to bring the people of Atlas and it's royal family some manner of peace. It seemed the easiest way to do so- aside from slaying the werewolf hiding in the woods- would be to help protect Princess Weiss and keep Winter from being found out.
"I don't need your assistance, Huntress."
Yang's hand shot out, grabbing the woman's wrist. They looked so different- one wearing furs and chain mail with all manner of weapons hanging from her belts and the other in a crisp dress uniform with glittering medals and buttons- but they shared this, a stubborn sort of pride and dedication, the mark of an elder sibling doing everything in their power for the younger ones, even if it meant hiding their own pain.
"Yeah, well, you're getting it anyway." Her face hardened, adopting the same tone she'd used every time someone tried to bully her into accepting a lesser reward or when Ruby tried sneaking cookies after dinner when they were younger. "You're no good to anyone walking around like that, and I can at least clean the wound and patch you up. No one the wiser and we never mention it again. Deal?"
Blue eyes narrowed, shining with suspicion and… something else. "You're a persistent bastard."
"Not my fault my folks didn't marry," she replied flippantly, nodding back the way they'd come. "Come with me now, and you'll be able to bear weight on the leg by dinner."
She sighed. "Very well. Lead on."
Confident the woman wouldn't slink away now that she'd gotten her to agree, Yang turned and started down the hallway, the tread of boots behind her comforting. Trying to discreetly convince her to accept help was one thing; having to drag her unwillingly would draw a bit more attention than either would like.
Silence filled the space between them until they passed a particular painting, depicting a group of knights facing off a great white wolf. She'd seen it before, finding the whole thing odd, and opted to comment on it now that she had someone's ear. "You guys didn't waste time immortalizing something, huh?"
"Nor twisting it." Winter spat, stopping to stare up at the rendition, eyes lingering where blood stained the beast's muzzle and painted the snow beneath it. "This blasted beast panic has some of my best soldiers on edge, fearing some infernal demon. It's done nothing but kill a few deer."
"People have gotten hurt, too," she said, a frown touching her lips as she stopped and turned towards the woman. "Though I agree that it's done hardly any harm." At the curious grunt and raised brow, she continued. "This is no ordinary beast. That being said, it should hunger for human flesh, seek out villages, howl long into the night to spread fear… this one doesn't." She rubbed at her side where the beast had swiped at her the night before. Six inch long claws… yet not one drew blood. She had a bruise, yes, but only that. "I feel like this is the most… intelligent creature I've ever hunted and I don't think it wants to hurt anyone. It… almost seems peaceful."
She kept her suspicions to herself. After facing off against it last night, she knew perhaps better than anyone that it was nothing short of a scion from one of the supposedly extinct bloodlines, a legendary beast of strength and ingenuity, a cursed soul… but this one retained enough humanity that it seemed almost too intelligent at times. Any more of a beast and it would've killed her the night before when it had the chance- but she'd expected a beast and stood a fair chance of killing it before things got that bad, loathe as she was to do that. Now, though, she had to either outsmart it or give up the fight; although the crown didn't seem too fond of it, the werewolf wasn't harming the people and there were signs the forest benefited from the beast's presence. The King's orders had filled the forest with far too many deer and they were leaving patches of no greenery at all, turning once lush clearings into mud that did nothing to keep the river down, the banks eroding from the excess water, and the dam had burst a few months back due to the unexpected increase.
"You show an unbecoming amount of empathy for the beast you're hired to kill," Winter said, jaw tight.
"Maybe that's a good thing." She smiled. "This is no ordinary beast; I'm no ordinary hunter." With a chuckle, she shrugged her shoulders. "Honestly, I think driving it north, away from the royal forest, would be better than killing it. Some creatures… are too magnificent to be mounted on a wall."
"His Majesty would disagree."
"Your father would piss his pants if he so much as caught a whiff of the wolf," Yang replied, fairly confident her comment wouldn't be met with a reprimand of any sort, despite the intentional informality of her chosen address.
An unexpected chuckle burst from the woman's lips, proving her right. "I can't fault you there."
"Every now and again, I make a good point." She lightly touched Winter's shoulder. "Come on. That scratch won't mend itself and I can't have you falling down and landing on any more furniture in the meantime."
"What, exactly, are you insinuating with that comment?" She tried to seem a bit annoyed at the implications but the woman was leaning on her uninjured leg heavily and winced when her posture straightened. "Nevermind. Let's just go."
As they both turned to continue, Yang paused, noting something in the painting she hadn't noticed before: for some reason, the great white wolf was depicted with bright blue eyes instead of the glimmering gold from the night before. It might've been just the artist's affinity for whites and blues to offset the silver and reds of the knights but… in a castle where all five members of the royal family had white hair and blazing blue eyes… it seemed an odd choice.
"Hey, Miss Winter… who painted this?"
"Stop calling me that." She snapped, then sighed. "And my sister did. She saw the beast- no doubt you've heard the story."
Yang's eyes narrowed. The limp in Winter's right leg, the wound in the werewolf's right hindleg, and the painting… perhaps she was seeing things.
But it certainly didn't feel like it at this point.
Yang frowned, peeling back a hastily applied bandage caked with blood to reveal an oozing wound. Between trying to stay focused on her task- bereft of the dress pants tucked into the woman's boots, she was left with on her small clothes to protect her modesty, and the injury sat high on her thigh- and the troublesome amount of blood, the experienced hunter had thoughts pinging around her head almost faster than she could grasp them, but she reached for a clean cloth to dip into the bowl of water she'd fetched. The first thing she needed to do was clean the area so she could stitch it up.
A hiss immediately left the woman's mouth as Yang tried her best to be gentle, glancing towards Winter's face, pinched in agony. Here, lying on her side in the bed provided for the visiting hunter, the proud soldier had fallen away, brows pinching together as she'd nearly stumbled through the door. Yang had helped her move to the bed but turned her back for the undressing process, seeing as Winter had valiantly defended her ability to attend the task herself.
Setting a hand on her hip, Yang spoke softly. "This is going to hurt a little but you'll feel better soon. Promise."
Winter let out a short huff in response, remaining silent and keeping her gaze turned away, staring off into the distance, unseeing.
Once she'd cleaned the wound, worry turned to dread, and a small weight dropped into the bottom of her stomach. The flesh had been rent asunder, a deep gash with the sharp edges of a blade, gray marks akin to a bruise surrounding it, and thin black veins branching out.
Silver burns and poisoning.
Yang sighed, turning towards her bag and reaching for a little jar she carried with her everywhere, nondescript and rousing no suspicion from anyone who might be going through her things.
"What's that?"
"A salve for burns," she replied, keeping her voice soft.
Winter immediately tensed. "I didn't get burned-"
"Easy." She offered a smile, opting to continue the ruse a little longer. "It's just a friction burn. You must've been moving faster than you thought."
Yang knew better. Humans wouldn't get a burn like that from a blade wound; it came from the silver of her dagger pressing against the skin of a werewolf. The thin black lines, proof that enough silver lingered in the wound to seep into her bloodstream, wouldn't kill her outright, but it would prevent the skin from mending. Left unattended, the wound would become infected by silver-bite, if the silver poisoning her blood hadn't worked its way to her heart by then.
Opening the jar, she scooped out a dollop of the salve and braced herself, applying it generously to the wound.
"Hah!" Winter jerked, curled in on herself as she tried to hold her scream in, teeth grit in agony. Although she probably wasn't aware, the points of her incisors had become sharper, along with her other teeth. "Wha-"
"I know it hurts, but it passes swiftly." She sighed, a little tension bleeding from her shoulders. She expected Winter to take a swing at her, and wouldn't have blamed her for it either. "Try not to squirm too much." After coating the outside, she pushed some of the salve inside the wound, watching as the grey and black receded, the silver broken down quickly into parts so small it could pass through the werewolf's veins without too much trouble. Aside from lethargy, Winter would recover quickly, and her skin already began to stitch itself back together before her eyes. "There." Yang sat back, grabbing a fresh bandage and covering the wound for the time being. It wasn't necessary but it would at least keep the grease of the salve from staining any clothing, which would work best for everyone. "See? That wasn't so bad."
"Easy for you to say." Winter growled and coughed immediately after, trying her best to cover the beastial quality to her voice. "So you're a hunter and a healer? Seems at odds."
"Really, they're not." She put the lid back on the jar and tucked it away. "Two sides to the same coin."
"How do you possibly come to that conclusion?" Some of the heat had died from her voice, body uncurling as the burning past.
"Healing is about maintaining the balance between life and death- mend what you can and ease the passing when it's time," Yang said, wiping her fingers off on a spare cloth. "Hunting is the same, from the other angle. End the suffering of the old, sick, and lame creatures, use their meat to feed the hungry." She chuckled. "And, when it comes to creatures who terrify and destroy, restore the peace. Most of the time, no one wants to eat the meat of a terrible creature; if it terrorizes people, they'd rather burn the remains. That's a waste when there can be a better balance."
"Who taught you this?" Winter drawled, seemingly tired from both the silver sapping her strength and the salve taking the rest. "Here, hunters here are taught to prize the kill. It is not an act of mercy."
For a moment, she thought about giving her usual answer. People asked her so many times- they would look at her confused, sometimes angry, because instead of bringing back a carcass, she brought back her word that a creature would cause no more harm. Yet, her word carried weight in Remnant, because she'd yet to be proven wrong; most of the time, creatures of that nature would prefer not to cross paths with humans or Faunus, and just needed a little help. Hunting, she'd found, was as much about the kill as understanding her prey, and the balance of life demanded less bloodshed sometimes.
Instead, she gave the truth.
"From the Elders," she said, sitting on the edge of the bed and resting her elbows on her knees. It wasn't a comfortable position with the metal of her prosthetic digging into her skin, but she'd learned not to rest her weight on her arms and the position helped her think, even if it wasn't relaxing. "They taught me many things. Hunting and healing, navigation and bartering, respect for the land and disdain for those who would squander it, or the precious gift of life."
"So that's why you'd rather not slay this terrible beast? Because some grandmother told you to respect the life of monsters?" Winter puffed out a breath. "You'd be better off killing the beast next chance you get. Perhaps it won't be so kind next time. Perhaps it can't be."
"The Elders are not humans or Faunus; they're werewolves," she replied, noting the way the woman's posture seemed to immediately tense, but she pressed on regardless. Her left hand rose, fingers digging into the tawny fur of one pelt draping her shoulders. "In Vale, the Elders are a council of werewolves, the pack leaders who meet with the humans and Faunus to ensure balance in our lands. They raised me to be a hunter; it's in the blood for me to seek and find, and my wanderlust was best channeled into something productive. So I learned many things, many skills, and here I am, one of the most celebrated hunters of my time." She chuckled. "And hired to hunt a werewolf. I'm not sure if I approve of the universe's sense of humor."
"Then why wear werewolf pelts?" The woman's voice seemed cautious, as if anticipating something foul. "Seems a poor way to honor the skills they taught you."
A flicker of anger passed through her but she shoved it aside, keeping her voice steady as her hand moved to the darker, earthy colored pelt. "These belonged to two people very important to me. They taught me more than I deserve to know." She sighed. "Werewolves mate for life, you know, but they're supernatural creatures, with lifespans that reach beyond humans or Faunus. And eventually, they grow weary of the marching days. When I was old enough, they decided to enter their eternal sleep, but left me pieces of them." Forcing back the tears, Yang offered a small smile. "I like to think they've kept me alive several times, protecting me even though they're gone. It makes the hunts seem less lonely."
Silence settled between them, memories lingering at the back of her mind, but she couldn't quite indulge just yet. Instead, she put the pieces together; no wonder the woman had reacted so hostile towards her at the onset. Although a werewolf's pelt looked no different than a wolf's, the scent was different to a discerning nose, even after being tanned. Yang looked like she was flaunting her kills to the very one she'd been sent to hunt. A pretty poor first impression, she admitted.
"When you say it's 'in the blood'…" Winter started slowly, still tense- ready to defend herself- but relaxing by degrees. "Are you a wolf hunting a wolf?"
"No." Standing up, she slowly turned and leaned over the woman- the werewolf, in her human form. Closing her eyes, Yang focused, drawing forth her brief flash of anger from before and letting it consume her for a moment before her eyes shot open.
Winter gasped, pinned in place by what she saw, eventually uttering only a single word. "Dragon."
"That's why I hunt," she said, blood red eyes with slits holding blue, her vision heightened by allowing her draconic heritage to come to the fore. "I want knowledge, skills, talents, sights, sounds. We're a… pretty greedy bunch." Closing her eyes again, she let her eyes revert to normal. "And I understand what it's like, being seen as a beast, with no concern for the mind beneath." She pulled back, coughing into her hand. "So… not to say that there's any in this room besides me… but those of us who tread the line between human and something… different. We don't have to be monsters. More often than not, we aren't. I understand that." Winter would need rest to recover her strength, and none would dare enter Yang's guest chamber without her being present after one of the servants accidentally set off one of her traps the first day. It would be a safe place for the woman to recoup her energy, so she decided to leave her and do a bit more investigating of her own. "I'm going to hunt for the werewolf tonight. I think I can convince it to… move its hunting territory a bit north. If that fails, I'll tell the King he just needs to get used to it. The werewolf isn't harming anyone who doesn't deserve it."
Before she reached the door, Winter called out to her. "Huntress," she said, mustering her strength and pushing herself up. "If you go out seeking the beast tonight, it will kill you."
At the threshold, Yang stopped and flashed the woman a smile. "Good. Someone has to avenge all the time I'm going to kill until then." She waved. "See you later, Miss Winter."
Shutting the door behind her, the corners of her smile turned down, brow furrowing. She needed to find the Princess; there was more to this story than she'd been lead to believe.
Yang found Princess Weiss in the throne room, listening to the few petitioners who'd come to air their grievances. The King was busy with his charts in the war room again, leaving his heiress apparent to attend to the duties of actually governing the country, and she seemed rather pleased with the turn of events. A small smile on her lips as she listened to a group of farmers begging to keep their lands, their pleas brought to a halt by a single raised hand.
"You needn't fear. Your lands will remain your own." Her brows furrowed slightly. "All plans to expand the royal forest have been halted for now and I'm quite certain they will not come to pass." She tilted her head, the circlet sitting on her brows glinting in the light. "But tell me, please- have you any sightings of wolves or missing livestock recently?"
"No, Your Highness." The leader bowed his head. "We've not seen the terrible beast of the woods nor any like it. Our herds are safe."
"I'm pleased to hear that." Princess Weiss smiled, and given the curious looks it earned her, that had to be a rare event indeed. "Do you line your fields with anything to deter the beast?"
"Just wolfsbane, Your Highness, to keep the mountain packs at bay."
Yang smirked from her spot among the onlookers. Such a deceptive name for such a helpful little plant; rather than poisoning werewolves, wolfsbane, among other things, acted as the base for the healing salve that sapped away silver. But better for others to think it might help them, so plenty would be available when it was needed.
"I do not wish for your fields to be compromised, but I will reward you handsomely for any wolfsbane you're willing to part with, Sir," the Princess said. "If we can ring the forest with it, perhaps we can restrict the beast's movements."
"We… do have some extra, Your Highness." He turned, looking at his companions, all of whom seemed to gesture for him to provide a relatively low price. "Three silver for a bushel?"
Her brow twitched; most places would charge triple that at least. And the Princess seemed to know it, too.
"Three gold it is. Captain." She turned her attention to a tall redhead standing before her throne with a helmet tucked under one arm. "Take a retinue of guards with you and fetch the wolfsbane."
Yang watched, closely, the way Her Highness said those words, how she carried herself as she delivered them. In that moment, Yang felt absolute certain of one thing: Princess Weiss had every intention of paying the promised price… and not much else. Looking around, she found the Princess' erstwhile attendant lingering just behind the throne, in the shadows cast by deep blue curtains framing the gaudy thing. Moving through the crowd, Yang snuck her way around until her path was intercepted by the Faunus in question.
"You can't speak with Her Highness right now." Amber eyes shone with both suspicion and amusement. "Your attempts at being subtle aren't exactly working, by the way."
"Maybe I was trying to talk to you?" She flashed a quick smile. "I don't think I ever caught your name before-"
"Blake." She glanced over her shoulder as Princess Weiss continued hearing petitions. "And I'll ask you to keep it brief. Her Highness will be done soon and she has a very tight schedule."
Yang crossed her arms over her chest. "Yeah, wouldn't want to put a dent in makeout time, right?" As a brief flash of panic layered beneath a blush passed over the Faunus' expression, she chuckled. "Look, keeping secrets around someone who is paid to hunt things down is kinda pointless. And, really, I don't care." Yang's expression smoothed out. "She knows that wolfsbane doesn't do anything to wolves, right? Not even direwolves?"
"I believe she does but Her Highness is doing what must be done to protect her people."
The hunter hummed, nodding slightly. "Okay. And how long has the crown considered expanding the royal forest?"
"About five years ago, the King began… accepting donations of land from the people of Atlas." Blake kept an impressively straight face through those words, the feline ears atop her head twitching only slightly. "But expansions stopped once the beast appeared. It's not safe for the… workers to break up the farmlands and plant the trees."
"And that was right around the time Princess Weiss became heiress apparent, right?"
"Yes… I'm not sure what bearing that has on anything, though." Blake once again glanced back at the throne. "They're completely unrelated events-"
"I'm not so sure about that." Yang lowered her voice. "In fact, I think they're directly related."
They watched each other for a moment before the Faunus stepped forward. "Her Highness is not the beast you seek and she didn't unleash it."
"I know the first part," she said. "It's the second part I'm trying to figure out. Because, call me simple, but I'm having a hard time understanding why the King would turn his own child into a werewolf, and then hire someone to kill her."
"Weiss hired you, for one." A smirk curled Blake's lips, head tilting. "Because she seemed rather adamant that you could figure out the answer to that, for another."
"So she wasn't expecting me to kill a werewolf on the first try?" Yang had almost half a mind to be insulted.
"She didn't believe anyone could kill her sister on the first try."
"… fair." She nodded. "Pretty sure she would've got me a few times, too, if I'd been a little slower." A furrow came to her brows. "So… I guess the obvious questions are: what's with the secrecy, why not ask her, and is there a particular reason she seems rather intent on killing me?"
Blake looked around, confirming no one thought to pay the apparent handmaiden and hunter any mind, and then nodded further towards the shadows.
"In order: because the King both wants Winter dead for some reason and refuses to publicly denounce her since it would tarnish his image and he's dealt with enough backlash over removing her as heiress to the throne- no offense to Weiss, but Winter's pragmatism served her well. The people and the soldiers loved her and the nobles respected her. As for asking her, she's been a bit… impossible to deal with the past few months. She doesn't want to talk about anything that isn't strictly business. And the last… your guess is as good as mine." Her ears laid back. "Weiss has been busy, Winter's absolutely avoided her at every turn, and she won't look me in the eye much less answer any question I ask. She's never been very good at explaining her emotions or motivation." Under her breath, she muttered. "It runs in the family."
Yang nodded slowly and sighed, tapping a finger against her bicep. "Figured as much."
Her ears perked up. "So you've got a plan?"
"I didn't say that!" She chuckled, turning on her heel and heading towards the nearest exist. "Thanks for the help."
"Wait, Yang." She looked back at the Faunus. "Weiss believes you can save Winter. Can you?"
"No," she replied with a shrug. "Because she doesn't need saving. She just needs a little help."
Blake sighed. "Then your job just got a lot harder."
Stepping out of the throne room, she allowed her feet to wander while her mind raced. There were only a few ways to turn someone from human to werewolf, and eliminating a bite seemed rather easy, since it would be the most unpredictable method and not one the King would be likely to employ. The other ways ranged from downright insidious to extremely… painful… and some were even both.
She came to a stop in front of the painting, eyes roving over the strokes, the scene; she'd already asked around, finding no other such paintings on display created by the Princess' own hand, and the King absolutely detested it according to whispers but may not even know it existed according to others. It had to be special for reasons, something hidden in the composure, in the gleam of the armor or the leaves being whipped by the wind, the comparatively small size of claws and fangs while the swords looked much larger than a man could comfortably wield, the white snow on the ground and the red of fresh blood staining it beside the broken wine bottle-
Ah.
"So that's how he did it." This wasn't a painting of the first night the werewolf was found out. It was the night she was turned.
Yang's frown deepened, a curse falling from her lips as she turned and headed towards the kitchens. Now, she at least had an idea… but not a lot of faith in its execution.
Eh. She'd done more with less.
