A/N: Wow, I probably should have done this a while ago!
I will no longer be posting new fics, including new chapters of this one, to FFN. My tumblr and AO3 accounts (under the same name) contain two more chapters of this story, as well as quite a few others, and will remain active.
A secretary. He wouldn't even make the call himself.
"Weiss, no. No, you aren't going. Fuck him if he thinks he can just - just-"
It wasn't even a secretary she recognized. She wondered if he'd hired someone new for just that reason. If anyone were going to, it was him.
"Yang's right. He can't just… toy with you like this."
There was no choice, not really. If she refused to go to him, he'd come to her, in one form or another. An airship and several stern-looking bodyguards might appear and refuse to leave without her, or she might find it suddenly difficult to purchase dust for Myrtenaster until she acquiesced. She imagined he wouldn't even hesitate to send the police after her. Whatever it took, he always got his way.
"There's no…" She swallowed thickly. "There's no choice. If I refuse or don't respond he'll just… he'll find a way to force me to come home anyway. I have to go. I'm sorry."
The trio fell silent. Weiss fiddled with a corner of the sheets on her bed, suddenly consumed by the thought that it might not be her bed for much longer. Whatever her father's reasons for calling her home, she didn't imagine he'd allow her to leave any time soon.
She bit her lip, fighting just to keep her voice above a whisper. "If… if I don't-"
Yang blanched. "No. Don't - don't even say it. He wouldn't."
"I wish I could believe that. You don't know him, Yang."
Yang broke her gaze away from Weiss's, glaring at the floor so fiercely Weiss imagined it might catch fire.
"Alright," Blake murmured, her focus somewhere in the middle distance. "Then we're going with you."
To her credit, Blake didn't flinch at the simultaneous cries of "What?!" from her girlfriends. Instead, she sighed and eyed the ceiling through the torrent of words that followed.
"Blake are you joking?! You know who her dad is, right? This is Silbern Schnee we're talking about!"
"No, no, not a chance, no. He's a monster, he hates faunus, you know what he did to me, I'm not letting him near yo-"
"He's like half the reason for how fucked up faunus rights are! Like, personally! You're Fang, Blake, he'd probably try to have you arrested or worse the second he saw y-"
"Stop." By some miracle, they did. "I know what I'm risking. There's nothing about me he'll like, and probably the only thing he'll like about Yang is that she's human. I still can't… I can't send you into that alone, Weiss. Don't ask me to do that."
Weiss released a shuddering breath and dropped her head. Snowy locks cascaded down her shoulders, and a thread of contempt pulled tight in her gut at the sight. Contempt for her father, for her family, for all the whims of fate that conspired to keep her from just existing. All this pain, all this risk and fear, just to be. It seemed like such a simple thing to ask and yet she, like and agonizingly unlike so many other faunus, was made to fight tooth and nail for it.
Because of him. And the thought of facing him alone…
"Alright." Her voice caught, forcing another hard swallow before she could continue. "I… I'm not going to lie, I don't like it. But… this was never about what I like. If you two would do this with me, do this for me… it would mean the world."
Blake and Weiss turned nearly in unison to Yang, who had her arms folded in uncharacteristic silence. Feeling the weight of eyes on her, she huffed. "I don't like it either, but Blake's right. If you're going, we're all going. I'll talk to Ruby, see what she wants to do for the rest of break." A sudden grin hooked the corners of her mouth. "Pyrrha's stuck here too; something about air fare to Mistral costing an arm and a leg this time of year. Maybe I can arrange for her to meet our dad."
Blake cocked an eyebrow. "We have one nice parent between the three of us, and Ruby's girlfriend gets to meet him first?"
"Oh, hush."
Packing was quiet and tense, the void of conversation filled with rustling fabric and worry thick as smog. No one was really certain how long a stay they should pack for; Yang packed for a week, Blake for three days. Weiss would have packed everything she owned, had Yang not steadied her with an arm around her shoulders and a whisper of "We'll be back before you know it."
They parted with Ruby and Pyrrha at the airship dock, taking two very different aircraft to two very different fathers.
The SDC-brand airship was top-of-the-line, of course, and the interior was so comfortable it was very nearly unnerving. The barely concealed disgust on the faces of the pilot and attendant, though, made it clear the comforts afforded to them were surface-deep and nothing more.
Yang couldn't sit still, despite Weiss's quiet insistence that this was a six-hour flight and she couldn't possibly spend the entire thing fidgeting. She kept shooting venomous glares at any staff that ventured too close to Weiss or Blake, tapping her foot and cracking any joint she could. Weiss could hardly fault her for her unease. They were headed to spirits knew what terrible encounter, but there could be no doubt that it would go poorly for them all.
Blake, on the other hand, was entirely still. Almost. She was staring intently at the her scroll, tapping out messages rapidly and almost without end. It was nearly a half-hour before she set it down, and then only for a few minutes before resuming her assault on the touchscreen.
The hours trudged by, the soft rush of air past the contoured hull of their craft not breaking the silence so much as bringing it into focus. They didn't speak to each other out loud, not with the feeling of oppressive, invisible eyes on them; watching, listening. The crew avoided them whenever possible, spoke stiffly and with rigid formality when interaction couldn't be avoided.
After some length of time - it was hard to be sure how long, when so little had really happened in the duration - Weiss felt a soft buzz in her pocket. She fished out her scroll, flicked it open, read the words on the screen.
you two hangin in there? - golden_grl
Some of the tension left Weiss's brow. Yang could never quite seem to resist the urge to check on them, a habit she'd doubtless picked up while raising her sister.
as well as can be expected
at least the in-flight snacks are good - fang fr th mmrs
Weiss bit back a chuckle; Blake could read her like a book, she always knew when Weiss needed a laugh. After moment, she dashed out a quick response.
Better than I'd be alone. I love you both. - Weiss
love you too - fang fr th mmrs
ears to tail tip, hun - golden_grl
It was cold in Atlas. It was very seldom not cold in Atlas, but winter's chill cut through even the insulated hull of the airship. Weiss had long ago grown accustomed to it, but Yang shivered now and then and Blake periodically burrowed deeper into the coat she'd brought along. The view through the ship's narrow windows offered little beyond a sheet of slate gray broken by paler flurries of snow, too dense even to tell if they were over land or water. Schnee manor was perched in the northernmost part of the kingdom, such as it was, so they would still have an hour or so to go once they reached the mainland.
An hour or so later, the airship touched down with no warning or fanfare beyond the subtle whisper of hydraulics. An attendant strode through the cabin, paused briefly to size them up with a quick sweeping glance, and retrieved a trio of long, heavy jackets from a compartment at the rear of the craft. Weiss accepted hers without a word - Blake and Yang following suit - and pulled it on over her own coat while the others eyed theirs with thinly veiled suspicion.
"You'll want it," she explained with a nod at the jackets, "It's about a hundred meters to the door." She buttoned down the overcoat with practiced ease, tugged the heavy hood over her ears, pulled a broad strip up from the collar to cover her mouth and nose.
Yang cocked an eyebrow at it all. "That's not very far, Weiss. How cold can it be?"
"Cold enough to give you frostbite by the time you get there without one of these. Atlas is… different from Vale. In a lot of ways."
Yang relented and bundled up, and was grateful for it. The air was impossibly cold, numbing their limbs even through their many layers. Stepping across the threshold sent a shudder through Weiss, the bitter familiarity of it all cutting deeper even than the Atlesian wind.
Home again.
They were greeted at the entryway by another servant - and so quickly did Weiss's mind slip back into character, they were all just servants here - who took their overcoats with a stiff bow, greeted them each in turn - "Miss Schnee, Miss Xiao-Long, Miss Belladonna" - and ushered them further into the manor. For Weiss, the butler's words faded into an indistinct buzz as they walked, something about their belongings she'd doubtless heard a dozen times before. The glacial gaze of a hundred disappointed ancestors tracked her as she walked; busts and portraits of Schnees long gone sneering down at the traitorous whelp in their midst. She was floating again, removed from herself.
She noticed only vaguely when the butler guiding them was replaced by another, equally blank-faced, equally stiff. Blake and Yang's rooms were across the hall from one another, in the set of guest rooms reserved for Honored Guests her father didn't feel like honoring too much.
They were also, as it happened, half a mansion away from Weiss's own room.
"Weiss?" A voice floated to her, as though from across a great distance. "You in there, hun?" She blinked. Lilac eyes, worried. A warm hand caressed her jawline, ran a thumb against her cheek. Yang. She shook herself.
They were in a sitting room, apparently alone save for the ever-present glare of her long-dead family from every painting and photograph. Blake's gaze kept darting to the doors, brow furrowed, and Yang was searching Weiss's face, worry lighting her eyes. She shook herself again.
"I'm… I'm alright." A deep, steadying breath, in and out, centering herself again. "I'm alright. Are you two…"
Yang scoffed, a flash of crimson darting across her eyes. "They've been shuffling us around between butlers for like an hour now. I got sick of it and 'suggested' they give us some space for a bit, long flight from Vale, blah blah blah. We're alone, okay? Blake's making sure of it."
She certainly seemed to be. Blake's gaze was fixed on the entrance to the room, and her ears twitched and swiveled constantly; equal measures alertness and irritation. They would never be truly alone while they were here, as Weiss knew all too well. The manor's surveillance system was state-of-the-art and comprehensive. Still, it was good to be without expressionless eyes on her. In her direly sheltered youth she'd harbored a distaste for the manor's staff, their stiff bows and blank faces. Now, though, she recognized their tension for what it was. She felt the same fear.
"He won't meet us today, I don't think. That's… how he operates. He obviously knows you two came with me, and I wouldn't be surprised if he's not even here; probably at some very important meeting." Being alone with her lovers, her team, was lending Weiss back a bit of the courage she'd lost during their tour. Should could hardly imagine what she'd have done without them.
Blake's ear flicked and she made a noise, half growl, half frustrated huff. "He wants to let us work ourselves up so we're off-balance when we talk to him directly. How political of him."
"Exactly. The best thing we can do is just… try not to let it get to us. It's not much of an option, I know, but it's all we've got."
Yang heaved a sigh and deflated a little, some of the steel leaving her jaw. "Then we hold fast. C'mere."
Before she could manage more than half a word of protest, Weiss found herself hoisted bodily into Yang's arms. The room spun - pausing for a moment as Yang called for Blake to scoot over a bit - and with a small oof she found herself cradled between her girlfriends, warm and secure in their arms. They were threefold; they would endure.
Blake checked once more around the room. She'd found and covered several cameras already which meant there were likely several more she hadn't found. It was the thought that counted, really. If she couldn't stop them watching and listening, she'd at least let them know she knew. Satisfied with her efforts, she settled on the (admittedly very comfortable) bed and answered the insistent chiming from her scroll.
Yang's image was hazy, harshened by the storm raging outside. The manor had a local network, but Blake had decided she'd rather keep her device well away and risk the interference. "She's still not answering her scroll, Blake. I don't like it."
"I know. I don't like it either," Blake replied, keeping her voice low.
Yang scowled, fiddling anxiously with a lock of hair. "Think she's alright? I mean, I know that sounds paranoid but…"
"Honestly, Yang, I don't think we can be too careful here. We are definitely not wanted." A heavy sigh punctuated the sentence, and Blake dragged her a hand through her hair. "That said, I think she's probably alright. She's on the other side of this gaudy eyesore of a building, and if we're getting interference from across a hallway…"
"... Then we're probably just not reaching her. Fucking Atlas weather."
"Exactly. I still don't like not being able to call her, though. She shouldn't be alone right now."
"None of us should, but especially not her. Do you… think she'll be okay? After all this, I mean."
Blake hummed low in her throat. It was hard to say what "after" would even look like. She still had a few messages to send, assuming the weather would allow it. "I think… mm. I think whatever happens, it's going to hurt Weiss bad. There's no way this ends in them hugging it out."
"Wouldn't want him to touch her, anyway."
"Agreed." He'd given her enough scars. More than enough. "She's going to hurt; I just hope we can take away some of the sting."
"Yeah." Yang looked to the ceiling, blinking rapidly. "Yeah. Hey, Blake?"
"Hm?"
"Can we… not hang up? Don't think I'd be able to sleep anyway, and… I'd really rather not be alone, y'know? I'm not exactly in my element here."
A faint smile softened Blake's features. "I'd like that."
Fortunately, Weiss survived Yang's hug when they met at breakfast. She as well as could be expected, given her night alone, though it was plain to see she hadn't slept any more than her girlfriends had. When she first stepped into the dining hall - Blake couldn't help but scoff at the idea of someone's house having a dining hall - Weiss had been stiff and wary, nervous and ready to bolt. The moment she spotted Blake and Yang, though, her ears and tail - and the rest of her, for that matter - had begun to perk up, just in time for a crushing bear-hug.
Breakfast was nice, of course, though the refined menu didn't quite satisfy either Blake or Yang's considerably-less-refined palates. Weiss, on the other hand, ate ravenously despite her nerves. The list of things she'd missed about her old home was essentially a list of her favorite foods.
Shortly after they had finished their meal, one of the ornate doors leading into the hall opened with an announcing creak, and a butler stepped into the room.
"Mister Schnee will see you all now."
The moment of truth. A chill swept over them, and Weiss rose stiffly, speaking in as authoritative a tone as she could manage. "Thank you. We'll proceed to his study immediately."
This was a path through the manor Weiss knew by heart; she imagined she could walk it blindfolded. Her legs carried her there almost on autopilot, though she made sure she kept close enough to Blake and Yang for her tail to brush their legs from time to time as they walked, an insistent reminder of their presence at her side.
The door to Silbern Schnee's private study was a massive thing, all intricate carvings and dark, heavy wood. It had doubtless cost a small fortune. It was another card in his deck, crafted with the explicit goal of ensuring anyone who faced it felt as small and insignificant as the man on the other side considered them to be. Blake muttered something impolite under her breath, and Yang stifled a laugh.
The butler from before was at the door, fixing a thousand-yard-stare on nothing in particular. When the trio drew close, he knocked firmly at the door. No reply reached even Weiss's keen ears, but the man nodded after a moment and pushed the door open with visible effort.
Weiss allowed herself a long, slow breath before she strode forward. As she crossed the threshold she caught a subtle murmur, inaudible to all but her and Blake.
"We're rooting for you, Miss."
By the time she turned the butler had returned to his middle-distance stare, but for a moment she caught a glimpse of a tuft of fur carefully pinned down in his hair. Never alone, not ever.
Bolstered, she strode through the door with Blake and Yang on either side of her. For now, they were all on a script. How quickly it would be shredded was up to her father; after that all bets were off.
"Father."
The man himself was seated at a desk every bit as imposing as the doors had been. Each of them had seen him before, to varying degrees; the head of the Schnee Dust Company and owner of a tremendous number of subsidiaries was often a public face. In person, he was somehow simultaneously more and less than he appeared on broadcasts or magazine covers. He was roughly Yang's height, though he was often made to appear taller, but there was an edge of steel in his gaze that the cameras could never hope to bind. Eye contact felt like staring down the point of a sword.
"Weiss. It's been some time since you last visited." His tone was level, betraying no hint of emotion. "And I see your… friends have decided to accompany you."
Blake mused that Silbern had now managed two sentences without actually saying anything at all.
He set aside a small stack of papers and rose slowly from his desk, sweeping an appraising glare across each of them in turn, lingering longest on Weiss. "I'd heard rumors of your… misadventures at Beacon. I suppose I'd hoped they were nothing more than hearsay."
Yang's fists clenched with a series of pops. "Then you…"
Somehow, Weiss had held out hope. It made no sense, of course, but until she heard it from his mouth she could hold out hope that somehow, he wasn't quite the monster he'd proven himself to be.
"Knew of her… unfortunate heritage? How could I not?" That was it, then. The lines were drawn, the script was burned. "Of course I knew. Contrary to what I'm sure you believe, I am no fool. When she was born, I was… disappointed." He crossed the room at a measured pace, stopping inches from Weiss, meeting her eyes.
Blake rested a hand on Yang's shoulder, gripping it firmly. The skin was unnaturally warm. "Easy, Yang," she murmured. The last thing they needed was a clash with security.
"Naturally, I had your… malformities removed immediately. You were raised as human as I could make you; I scrubbed away everything that might lead to… this. Do you understand me, Weiss?" He spat her name with distaste.
Weiss was trembling, but she held her ground, held his gaze.
"You were a project. You were supposed to prove that on a short enough leash, a mongrel could be made to play the part of a man. So much for that."
She could feel her breath drawing shorter. She was faltering in the face of the storm, try as she might to endure. Behind her, Blake was fighting to hold Yang back. She didn't need to see her eyes to know they'd be blazing crimson.
"After the mess with your sister and mother, I should have known better."
Wait, what?
"Enough of this. You'll be escorted back to your rooms for the day while I decide what to do about… this."
That was last straw for Yang. She struggled fiercely against Blake's grip on her arms, teeth bared and grinding. "Who the fuck do you think you are?! You don't talk to her like that, no one talks to her like-"
"Yang." Weiss turned to face her, bitter tears welling in her eyes. "Don't. Please, just…" Her voice fell to a near-whisper. "Please."