You were a day short of 15 when you started to notice the little things.
You would notice the small specks on Weiss' dresses when you picked them up from the hamper. You'd point them out to Miss Painter, and she'd do her magic.
You would notice that Mr Schnee would always discuss business at around 4 PM. He and some man named Ironwood would enter his office to discuss… you dunno, Company stuff? It was all way above your pay grade though. You shouldn't even bother.
You would notice that Mrs Schnee would usually drink at around the same time Mr Schnee would do business. She'd usually ask you to bring her a merlot from the pantry, if the head butler didn't do it himself. Every time, one whole bottle and a wine glass. Later that night, you'd expect the bottle to be a quarter full.
You would notice that Whitley is starting to keep his megalomaniacal tendencies in check. He's even starting to befriend Mr Ironwood's daughter, Penny.
Why they always hang out in his room isn't something you should probably think about. That way laid madness.
You would notice that Weiss tilts her head slightly to the side when she's confused about a term in one of her books. She would frown, and scrunch up her nose, then she would go to the nearest dictionary to learn about it.
You would notice how Weiss always bites her lip when she's being indecisive, especially if it's about what dress she should wear for a formal event. You'd always suggest light, cool shades, mostly blues. You think they suited her well. She agrees with you, usually.
You would notice the time that passed after the many conversations you have with Weiss. All the small talk that you did amounted to hours of discussing the weather, either of your families, and other topics like current events, places to be, stuff like that. Sometimes you even play chess. She'd always win, of course, but there have been a few close calls.
You would notice that she's more livelier talking to you than the rest of the staff. Even your mother knows, and she tells you to keep doing whatever she thinks you're doing.
You would notice that your gaze usually hovers on your charge when she's not looking, and when you do, you would notice every detail about her.
How her light-blue eyes shine in the light like clear pools.
How her white hair sways in the wind.
How her outfits show off her lithe, graceful body.
How she's developing cute little brea—
Wait.
You should stop that line of thought before things get out of hand.
You're a servant. She's your mistress. Besides, she's on a whole other league than you, it's impossible.
Later that night, you notice yourself adding something extra to that line of thought.
At least, for now.
You turned 16 a week ago when Weiss got acceptance letter from Beacon Academy.
She was thrilled. The last time she was this happy was when she won the Junior Fencing Championship last year. They all ate at a fancy restaurant that day, and Weiss insisted that you join them. Mrs Schnee even ordered a club soda instead of wine.
She couldn't wait to go, she said. You accompanied her in getting some school supplies that day.
Her face when Mr Schnee told Weiss that he would have none of it nearly broke your heart.
Her mother had no say in it, though if she could, she would pay for the tuition in a hearbeat.
As her servant, you were expected to come to her aid: a cup of tea, a comforting hug, or a quick pep talk. But your goal as a servant of a Schnee was to convince your charge that she was wrong, and she should stay in Atlas. Your loyalty was to the family first, then Weiss second.
As her friend and confidante, you knew you could do more than that.
The trust fund. You never spent more than you needed, so you know what you had was enough. It wasn't enough to cover the trip to Vale, but it was close enough to cover the tuition.
You had to make a choice. Once more, you ask your mother for advice.
It was approximately seven days, three hours, and one minute later when you called your mother into your room. You explained the situation: about your mistress' acceptance into the Academy. About her father's disapproval. About how broken she felt the past week.
"Well… son, this is a pretty big thing you're doing for her."
You agree.
"That trust fund was put in place as a failsafe, so you can leave at any time. You don't have to serve her anymore at this point."
You don't care.
"Son, I won't tell you what to do. But if you do give her the money, you have to understand that it'll take a long while for you to work that back. A very long while."
She leaves the room, leaving you to make a decision.
She's your friend! a part of you says. She's been your friend since you started working for the family, and besides, isn't it your job anyways to make sure she's happy and comfortable and content?
That part was right.
She's your boss, another part of you argues back. She's not going to swoon like some lovestruck Beowolf. You're a servant. She's your mistress. Deal with it.
That part was also right.
You go to bed, your choices still spinning in your mind. Tomorrow, you'll try to convince Mr Schnee.