What was more important? Family or duty? Blood or honor?
Sometimes they were one and the same. But that didn't make the choice easier... you were robbed of any choice at all. There was only one course of action to take. And it would cost.
Doing the right thing was often the hardest thing you could do, because it inevitably involved personal loss and sacrifice. And all too often, the harsh pragmatism of reality meant 'the right thing' felt morally wrong.
Today Winter would destroy herself. Because that was her duty. Her obligation. Her only choice.
Knowing she had no other option didn't make things easier. It just made the weight feel greater.
Parry. Step. Thrust.
She focused on her task, thinking of form. She'd have the element of surprise, but little time to execute her task. Her strategy was simple, but her timing needed to be precise. She could not hesitate.
Not if she wanted to kill him.
"Circumstances have changed, Winter."
"With all due respect, my orders haven't changed. And what you're asking of me-"
"I'm not the only one asking. And we will only ask once. The Council would prefer to handle this matter... delicately."
"To hell with the Council. This isn't just short-sighted, this is wasteful. They just want to avenge their wounded pride."
"You're still just a soldier. You're a piece in this game, not a player. I'm surprised you could so easily forget your place."
"That you consider this a game..."
"Of course it's a game. A very dangerous one. Atlas did not choose to play it, but if we don't, we lose regardless. And the winds are shifting. We need to advance."
"And how does removing someone on our side help us win this stupid game?"
"By thinking to the long term. A dead man can travel a lot further than a living one... if he dies at the right time for the right reason."
"I can't believe you're saying this..."
"You're a soldier. Your hands are already stained with blood. If you do this, you're doing your job. If you don't, someone else has to bleed. Someone who may not deserve to or survive it. And if we don't do something to counteract whoever's pulling the strings of the Grimm and the White Fang, more and more innocents will die."
"But what you want me to do-"
"Will be difficult. But necessary actions often are."
There was a long pause until he spoke again.
"It has to be him, Winter. He goes, and we mobilize the army and take action. He stays, and it's only a matter of time until Weiss is out on that battlefield with you, if she doesn't get herself killed with her teammates."
There was the magic word. More even than the plea for innocent lives, that Winter could not refuse.
Protecting her family and serving her country. She could not do less. If she refused, the Council would just carry on without her. And they could fail, which would start a civil war in Atlas with her family caught right in the middle of it anyway.
There was no choice.
Parry. Step. Thrust.
Winter heard the scuffle. As planned, Ironwood and her father had gotten into an argument. One knew it to be staged. The other was responding intuitively, and nature was taking its course.
The exchange was heated, but Ironwood would not be drawn to violence against a civilian. He would yell and curse and threaten, but Ironwood knew his role in the government, and how Jacques had their favor. All Ironwood could use were words.
But this was only the first step. The second was to ensure others responded intuitively. Whitley had heard the raised voices and headed away to put it out of his mind... while Weiss was drawn by her own curiosity. She was supposed to be confined to her room, but Jacques had been careful to relax his security concerns and ensure she was present for this. Her presence was essential.
"Winter," Weiss greeted, relieved to see her sister. She reached in to embrace, but Winter waved her off, pointing to the closed office door.
Weiss had to be present. That didn't mean Winter had to feel her love or meet her eye.
She knew she'd miss it. Because she was about to lose it forever.
Winter drew her glyphs in the floor and summoned defeated Beowolves to fight at her side.
"Winter! What are you-?"
As planned, Ironwood stormed out, only to face the monstrous apparitions, and his subordinate drawing her sword.
"I'm sorry," Winter whispered.
Ironwood drew his pistol and leveled it. Winter knocked the pistol from his hand with her rapier.
Parry.
Ironwood reacted well, pulling up his free hand in a wide arc, swinging for Winter. She ducked and moved to the right.
Step.
Winter leveled her rapier and found her target.
Thrust.
Jacques smiled, amused by the short battle... before his expression soured, then pained, then froze in horror and surprise as one of the summoned Beowolves, stepping past the two fighters, impaled him with their claws, pinning him up against the door frame and throttling him until all life was shaken out.
Weiss raised her hand to her mouth, looking on in shock, as Winter sheathed her rapier and Ironwood collected his pistol.
Winter looked down at her father's lifeless body, calling off her soulless minions. She was aware Weiss was staring at her, confused and terrified.
"Run," Winter told her simply.
Perhaps, despite her shock, Weiss still trusted Winter. Perhaps the sisters' mutual hatred for their father outweighed what little sense of love or family loyalty Weiss had. Maybe she understood her role in this and had accepted it, just as Winter had.
Regardless, Weiss ran. She got some necessities from her bedroom, told a truncated version of events to Klein, and she and the butler were out the door in less than two minutes. Two minutes for Winter to stare at her father's dead body and think about just how badly this turn of events would break Weiss.
Ironwood placed a hand on her shoulder. "It was the only way."
"I murdered him," Winter coldly retorted.
"If he continued to run the SDC, we'd have never been able to commit the resources necessary for the defensive buildup," Ironwood told her. "This had to be done."
"And the blame had to fall on Weiss," Winter spat.
"Miss Schnee did this inadvertedly," Ironwood assured. "We will be seeking her out, but for rehabilitation, not imprisonment. That, I promise you. Your sister won't suffer for this."
Ironwood would keep his word. But he was very wrong.
It had to be Weiss who killed Jacques, accidentally losing control of her Semblance as she had before. Then the SDC would fall to Whitley, and the Council would get their hooks in early and get him to rubber-stamp every request they made. With Ironwood playing their loyal servant, he would easily transition into controlling the greatest concentration of Atlas resources without the frustration and impediments Jacques had put in his path. And once more, Winter's blood would be holding the reigns to their birthright.
But it had cost her. She'd lost three times in performing the task. She'd proven that she was a pawn in whatever great game the world's powers were playing, rather than a player.
Whatever his faults, Jacques was still her father. Somewhere, beneath the icy veil, was the tiniest spark of love, extinguished by her own hand.
And Weiss, whether she understood the reason or not, knew Winter was a murderer who would kill her own kin. How would she ever trust her big sister again? How could she love someone capable of that?
Winter finally turned her eyes from Jacques. "Let's go. We should tell Whitley what's expected of him."
