A staccato screech pierced the dark veil of sleep. Blue eyes flew open, temporarily startled by the sudden cacophony. It faded quickly as it came on, however, replaced with a dazed, half-lidded stare. What a travesty it was, to awake with an alarm on a weekend. Though, such was life. A hand shot out from beneath ivory sheets to slap daintily at the source of the noise, a blue display atop a round nightstand. Three little smacks finally found the off button.

All at once, the rapid beeping stopped. In its place rose up a groan, tired and soft, which morphed into a rather uncouth yawn. Had there been anyone else in the room, it would've been rather embarrassing. Fortunate, then, was she for the privacy of the too-big bedroom. After a long blink to sooth dry, red eyes, she sat up. Long white hair spilled around her shoulders as the blanket fell to her lap. A sudden rush of cold air slipped down her glacial nightgown, and a shiver ran along her spine. Even if it were their namesake, she saw no reason to keep their home cold as snow.

She took in a deep breath, pale arms snaking over her head in a blissful stretch. Fingers flexed and loosened to work out the kinks in all their individual joints before curling back into loose fists. It was so very tempting to lay back in bed and catch a few more hours of sleep. But, no. Not with how much she had to do that day. There would be time to rest next weekend.

A heavy sigh escaped her lips, but that was all the protest she could stand to give. The girl swung her feet around the left side of the bed, ignoring the frigid sensation as her bare feet met hard marble flooring. She walked over to the large alabaster armoire on the west wall of her room.

First, she opened the doors on its front, if only to scowl at the contents. Many fine dresses hung inside, most some shade of either white or blue, and some more expensive than a used car. Her gaze lingered on one in particular before the doors pushed to a close. Satisfied, the girl rummaged through the drawers beneath them. She picked out a white, button-up blouse, tight blue jeans, and simple underwear.

Accouterments in hand, she slunk over to the door nestled in the opposite corner. If there were one good thing about this room, it was the private bath. She slipped through the door, opening it just wide enough to step inside. Faster, that way. Her still folded clothing found its way in a neat pile on the corner of the stone sink counter.

The girl stepped briefly in front of a full length mirror. A beautiful young woman stared back at her. Icy blue eyes pierced out from perfectly sharp features accentuated by soft cheeks. Long, colorless locks fell in a straight wave all the way to her petite rump. Unruly bangs concealed her forehead. The hair framed her lithe figure, short for a woman her age. Some may even say underdeveloped, though they learned quickly to hold their tongues.

The woman in the mirror was her, but she wished it wasn't On this day she'd rather be someone else. Anyone, as long as that person wasn't Weiss Schnee.

Such a thing was impossible, as far as she knew. This was the lot she'd been given. Best to grin and bear it. The day would be over soon. He shoulders slumped farther than should've been possible, and she went about the task of cleaning up to start the day. She could at least take comfort in the pleasures of a longer than needed shower.

Weiss took her sweet time underneath the warm water, delighting as it cascaded down her form. A good chunk of it was spent washing her hair, if only for the sheer amount of it to manage. She'd cut it short, were she not enamored with the way it looked at this length. There were, however, times when she simply hated the idea of dealing with it. This was one of them. Ruby had said in the past she would look cute with a short style. Weiss had no intention of sheering her brilliant mane, but it was no less fun to think about.

All good things must come to an end. After showering long enough for three whole days, Weiss knew she had no further excuse to remain. With a light touch, she wiped a little fog from the textured glass shower door and looked out onto the bathroom. The white marble flooring which ran throughout the house also adorned this space. Everything was immaculate, cleaned on a daily basis. It was about the size of Ruby's bedroom. That was the thing Weiss hated most about her family's mansion. Everything about it was just far too big.

Weiss turned off the water. She stepped out of the shower to quickly dry and clothe herself. The Ice Queen pulled around a stool and sat nude in front of the mirror. Blow dryer in one hand, soft bristled brush in the other, she began the arduous task of micromanaging her hair. It was already perfectly straight, so the only thing she really had to worry about was drying it out and undoing all the various knots. Still, it would take a good twenty minutes, if not longer.

When that was done, Weiss pulled it into a side ponytail and stood. Quick motions put on her chosen outfit. She inspected herself once more in the mirror. Her current look rested firmly somewhere between business and casual. Comfy, yet presentable. The hem of her blouse tickled the white belt at her hips, while the jeans clung to her legs.

She hated it. What she wouldn't give for some fishnets and her leather jacket. Even at home, a Schnee must look their best. Funny, how the definition of that could change so wildly person to person. She'd probably be laughed out of the building if she stood up on stage at Ebony's dressed like that.

After what must've been a couple hours, Weiss finally tore herself from the confines of her room. As she walked down a long hallway, adorned sporadically with art and the occasional plant, she thought back to that dingy bar, to the fun times she'd had with her bandmates. It had only been yesterday, after all. All five of her friends were there. The crowd was electric, and the band was on fire. Everything came together without even the ghost of a flaw. It had been one of the best nights of her life.

And now she was here, walking slowly through a needlessly long hallway. Another downside of a gigantic domicile, it took forever to get anywhere. Seriously, she could probably ride Yang's motorcycle around the corridors and still be late for any various appointments. Not that timescale was a concern right then. She only had one obligation on this Sunday, and that wasn't for several more hours yet.

The walk was a lonely one. The only sounds which accompanied her were those of high heeled shoes on a hard floor. The Schnee estate hosted many servants, but they had their own passages, their own staircases. Anyone just walking around would think only four people lived there. That made for a very long trip. But, eventually, slow feet led her to the first floor and her destination, the dining room.

It more resembled a great hall in an ancient castle than a regular dining room. Longer than it was wide, a huge rectangular table with seating for a few dozen people dominated the space. Two cabinets full of fine china no one ever ate off occupied opposite corners. This was also where the family showed off their various trophies in a huge display to the left. There were awards for academics, business, safety, pretty much anything for which a commendation could be given. Weiss even had a singing trophy in there. All of the awards were first place. Anything less was unacceptable, and certainly not worth sharing a spot of honor with the others.

Weiss would've strode into the space without a second thought, were it not for present company. A single man sat in a chair at the end of the table, all the way on the far end. He idly read something on his scroll, sipping occasionally from a steaming mug of coffee. How he dared to drink something so dark while adorned in an immaculate white suit was far beyond the girl's comprehension. The white mustache on his aged face wriggled as he took a deep breath through his nose.

For a moment, Weiss considered spending a little more time in her room. She didn't really need to eat breakfast, right? Deep down, she knew that wouldn't work. He already knew of her presence. With an internal sigh, Weiss entered the room, making her way around the table's right side.

"Good morning, Father," she said in her sweetest of fake voices.

"You were out awful late last night," said Jacques Schnee before sipping on his beverage.

"I was with my friends." Weiss explained as she sunk into a chair about halfway down the table.

"Yes, you've told me many times of that rabble you consider friends; the bimbo and the child."

"Yang and Ruby, yes." With great effort, Weiss kept the edge from her voice.

"At least the one with dark hair seems okay," Jacques observed, and Weiss had to stop herself from laughing aloud. He'd expressed a modicum of acceptance for Blake a few times in the past, something both she and Weiss found utterly hilarious.

A short pause presented itself, and Weiss took the opportunity to text the head chef with her breakfast order. She resented that entire process. She was seventeen-years-old, and perfectly capable of cooking for herself. But Father wouldn't allow it. Such peasant work was well beneath people like her. At least the chefs were paid a generous wage.

"I hope you slept well," Jacques began. "I need you in top shape today."

"I slept just fine, Father." Weiss stowed her Scroll.

"Good. This is an important day for our company's public image, I'm sure you know."

"I understand, Father."

They were quiet again. Jacques swiped through a few things on his Scroll. His daughter picked up her own device to pass the time. She didn't really do anything, though, just a little social media distraction via Rembook. She couldn't help but smile at a picture Ruby had shared of her adorable little corgi, Zwei. Weiss liked that dog more than most people.

Within just a few minutes more, her breakfast arrived. A butler dressed in shades of blue and silver delivered it on a white plate. The smells of a veggie omelet and toast filled her nose as Weiss realized just how hungry she was. She would've preferred pancakes or a delicate Danish, but she had to avoid starches that day. Even the toast was a bit of a risk.

Weiss feasted in silence, which was by far her preference. She hated being interrupted at any given time, and especially when food was involved, though she'd never admit to that. Besides, there'd be plenty of time to talk with her father later on. Missing a conversation here was of no consequence.

The heiress finished her meal, and then just sat there for a minute. This was always the worst part of any mealtime. After remaining silent for so long, she had to speak up. The manners expected of a proper lady demanded it.

"May I be excused?" She asked finally through a burst of courage. Jacques just waved her off, absorbed in whatever he read. Weiss wasted no time in making her exit.

An unnecessarily lengthy walk led the girl back to her bedroom. She closed the door once inside and slumped down on her bed, once again, taking out her Scroll. This time, she just sort of stared at the screen for a moment. The display showed black as Weiss just looked into her own eyes. She gave a long blink.

This sucked. There was literally nothing to do. She couldn't sing to pass the time, because that ran the risk of hurting her voice at the last minute. She couldn't play guitar because her Father hated how loud the instrument was. Dancing, going for a walk, and fencing all presented the danger of injuring herself. She couldn't even go to the library and find a good novel, although that was more from a lack of desire than anything else. Weiss opened her eyes and sighed. At least she could surf the internet on her Scroll. Maybe she'd find an e-book to read.

…

After what felt like the longest day of her entire life, the clock finally struck five. Weiss stood from her bed and walked out the door, set on a path to oblivion.

Her last hour, or so, had been spent doted on by personal stylists hired specifically for this occasion. As such, she now wore a pale blue strapless dress with a big, frilly skirt down to mid-thigh. A long sleeved bolero concealed her arms, broad collar popped to show of its red lining. Wedge heeled boots protected her feet. Silver bars dangled from her ears, while a simple jewel decorated her neck. More makeup that most people used in a whole week caked her face. The only thing which remained from before was the off kilter ponytail. She looked prepared for a fancy night on the town, like a sack of flesh paraded around for unscrupulous gain.

Uninspired feet eventually led to the foyer. There, predictably, waited her father, along with a butler at the door and a pretty maid in case he needed anything last minute. He looked exactly the same as that morning, just minus the coffee cup. The man gave a frown at the sight of her, and Weiss knew he disapproved of her hairstyle. A neutral expression replaced criticism after a second, however. To say anything about it would just start an argument, and they didn't have time to argue. That was the entire reason she hid in her room until the last possible minute.

"Come along, then." He said simply, turning toward the tall double doors. Weiss followed a few steps behind him. The butler opened the left one and Jacques strode through without so much as a glance for the short, portly man.

"Thank you, Klein," Weiss said with a sweet smile as she passed.

"Of course, Ms. Schnee." Klein's voice carried with it years of practiced formality, but the wink of his sparkling eyes betrayed his jovial meaning. Weiss giggled despite herself. She walked down the fine stone stairs leading to the front entrance. The doors closed behind her.

Parked in front of a grand fountain was a white limousine. The driver stood just behind the back door, posture straight and rigid. Perfectly manicured green grass spread around him in all directions, broken up only by foot paths and the sandstone driveway.

Jacques led the two Schnees to their waiting vehicle. The driver opened the door for him once he was an appropriate distance away, and gave a slight bow. The older Schnee entered without comment. Weiss did the same a second later, pausing just long enough to engage with the driver.

"Thank you, Sebastian." With that, she ducked into the car.

"Of course, Ms. Schnee." Sebastian gave the same canned response as Klein before closing the door, but it carried no mirth.

Inside the limousine was even more blue and silver, this time in a pattern decorating the suede seats. Three benches in total wrapped around the car. Jacques placed himself in center of the back one, while Weiss sat directly across from the door.

She listened as the driver walked around the vehicle and took his position behind the wheel. The limo roared to life and slowly pulled around the fountain. They were away, and Weiss was running out of time.

The city of Vale passed by outside tinted windows. Orange sunset wrapped around the tall buildings, its rays shining like beacons of hope through the alleys. There was a certain beauty to the concrete jungle, a calmness in the chaos of city life. It was all frighteningly normal. Weiss could've sat and stared at it for hours.

As fate would have it, she only had about twenty minutes to admire all of it before the limo pulled into the parking lot. Weiss waited patiently for the door to be opened. Jacques was the first to exit, and she did so a second or two behind. She would've thanked Sebastian again for doing his job, had he not already closed the door and begun to circle back around to the driver's side. So, instead, she followed after her father as he strode into the building.

It was a private entrance around the back, reserved for only the most important of VIPs. Using it allowed them to avoid the paparazzi no doubt waiting out front, which she appreciated immensely. The fewer stressors she had to deal with, the better.

The private entrance led directly to backstage. The Snow Theater, one of the largest auditoriums in all of Vale, owned by the Schnee Dust Company. People dressed in flat black ran every which direction, preparing for the night's festivities.

A fundraiser, sponsored by her family's corporation. All proceeds went to the Vale Veteran's Association. Most people saw it as a noble act, but they were woefully uninformed. This was nothing more than a publicity stunt, an excuse to distract the populace from the SDC's shadier side. Jacques knew it. Weiss knew it. The rest of their family knew it. And no one else did. Or, at the very least, they chose to ignore it. Weiss honestly didn't know which was worse.

Without a word, Jacques left his daughter alone. He had an appearance to make, after all. What would the people think if he were absent from his private viewing box? Weiss made no attempt to stop him. She wouldn't turn her nose up at a few more moments of silence.

Weiss wandered around backstage for a moment. A personal assistant attempted to glean requests from her, but the only order she gave was to get lost. She didn't need anyone waiting on her hand and foot. The poor man was just doing his job, and she respected that, but his services were not needed. He should put his time to better use.

Eventually, she found a chair in the middle of stage left. There were no markings on or around it, so it probably wasn't supposed to be there. But, Weiss knew better than to complain. She sat daintily upon it and crossed her legs. With a sigh, she once again retreated into her Scroll. Her eyes darted to the time display in its top right corner. 5:30, one half hour until the start of the show.

The Ice Queen had pretty much surfed the entire internet in the hours leading up to the event, so instead she opted to send a quick text message. A little friendly socialization may be just what she needed.

"Save me," was all it said. She typed out quick follow-up. "Or kill me. Whatever comes first." Weiss slumped into a comfortable posture, spine curved forward and bouncing her suspended foot, as she waited for a response. Just a few seconds later, one came through, indicated by a simple beep on her Scroll.

"Do you need me to come get you?" Was the reply from Blake Belladonna. Weiss thought for a moment before sending a message back.

"Maybe." She pressed send, and then let out a short sight. "No. I only texted you because Yang and Ruby would come get me, no matter what I said."

"Okay. Just let me know if anything comes up." Blake's response came through almost immediately.

"I will. Trust me."

"I'll be rooting for you."

"Thanks, Blake."

Weiss went back relaxing in the chair. Her mind immediately began to wander, to focus on anything other than where she was right that very moment. Not that it helped much, of course. It still looked, smelled, and sounded like a stage. People scurried about doing last-minute tasks, while a din from beyond the curtain indicated a full house audience.

She was knocked forcefully from her mental solitude by two beeps on her Scroll which sprang up at almost the same time. She checked them to see a pair of messages, one from each of the sisters.

"Good luck, Weiss!"

"Knock 'em dead, Snow Angel!" The first came from Ruby, while the second was trademark of Yang.

Weiss smiled as she sent thanks to each person. She normally would've scoffed at the use of that stupid nickname, but it was okay when accompanied by such a kind gesture.

Another few minutes passed before her device once again went off. It was another text from Yang.

"Jaune also says good luck," it read.

"Are you with him right now?" Weiss wouldn't put it past those three to set up some sort of watch party. She wished they wouldn't watch at all, but that was impossible.

"No. He just texted me, to text you." Yang explained. That made more sense.

"Oh, okay. Give him my thanks, then."

Another smile graced her lips. Dolts, all of them. Sweet and thoughtful, but still dolts.

The digital conversation dried up after that, leaving Weiss to sit in relative silence until her hour of reckoning arrived. It wouldn't be long, now. Twenty minutes if everything began on time, which it most certainly would.

Just as she assumed, at six o'clock on the dot, her father took the stage. He began giving a flowery speech, which she mostly tuned out. It was likely his usual affair of self-praise and humble bragging. The audience ate it up, though. They always did. If there was one thing the shepherded masses loved, it was listening to someone more successful than them talk about how successful they were. Weiss hadn't the stomach to pay any attention to such tripe.

After a few minutes, Jacques's tone of voice changed. A different atmosphere gripped the audience. He must've been wrapping up, which meant it was almost time. Weiss let a deep breath in, and then out. She stood from her chair.

"…I'd like to thank you all once again for coming out tonight, and for the generous donations we've already received. Now, I'm sure you're all tired of listening to me talk." Jacques paused long enough to let the audience have their forced chuckles. "Why don't we get this show on the road? To kick things off tonight, I'd like to welcome my daughter to the stage, the lovely young Ms. Weiss Schnee."

Weiss began forward the moment her name was called. Jacques vacated the state in the opposite direction, so their paths never crossed. Applause rose up to greet her, but only a smattering. The invite-only crowd was far too rich to bother with actual enthusiasm.

The Ice Queen maintained a laser focus straight forward. She wasn't nervous. Playing so long with RWBY cured her of stage fright, not that it had ever been a problem in the first place. More than anything else, she just wanted to get this over with. The sooner, the better.

Weiss took her father's place behind the microphone. It was a simple pop filter integrated with a slim pole which rose mechanically from the floor. The lights went down, and a single spot focused on her. The crowd quieted down almost on cue. Weiss closed her eyes and took one more big breath. The music stared, and she looked out over the crowd.

A single, solemn piano trickled a simple melody through the air. It was somber, yet uplifting, modest yet captivating. It dispersed among the audience, capturing them all in a loving embrace. Every eye came to rest upon Weiss. The music swirled around her. She clasped her hands in front of her skirt, and began to sing.

Mirror
Tell me something
Tell me who's the loneliest of all

Her voice came out in a light wisp, a breathy tone oft compared by tabloids to that of an angel. It carried little in the way of strength or presence, and instead relied on pure descant. She used it to pull the audience in, and hopefully wrestle free their pocket books.

The piano played a few notes to cap off the short section, and then faded out completely. A second later, the music started up again. A sudden influx of strings assaulted the onlookers. The entire song changed dramatically. Gone was the gentle ballad of just seconds before, replaced by an orchestral anthem, though it retained shreds of the same melody. It existed in direct defiance with the introspective lyrics, as well as the delicate voice which sung them.

Mirror
Tell me something
Tell me who's the loneliest of all

Fear of
What's inside me
Tell me can a heart be turned to stone

The song launched into a tense call and response. The strings hit a big chord, and the piano answered with an impressive little run. This repeated, and the piano ran the same sequence of notes. Once again it strings sung out, and were followed by a twinkle of keys. The piano then transitioned into a solo, faster and more technical than the last bits.

Without warning it ended on a single, powerful chord. The strings died away, replaced by heavy percussion. For a while these drums carried the song, lending a dramatic flair to it. They only persisted a few seconds, however. Again, the entire song changed. The piano played the same chord over and over again in rapid, punchy repetitions. When it did, Weiss opened her mouth.

The sounds which tumbled forth were not in the form of words, but instead a beautiful aria. Her voice climbed rapidly to its apex at an impossibly high note. There were, perhaps, a handful of singers in the world capable of such lofty heights. Weiss hit an even higher note before tumbling rapidly back down, coming finally to rest in the same spot the vocal solo began. She held the note for a bit, and then the music resumed.

When the strings and piano came back in, they did so with a victorious overtone, as if the entire time Weiss had fought a battle and just now gained the upper hand. The instruments clashed back and forth like duelists locked in a deadly dance. This all worked to a haughty crescendo before breaking into the final verse. When Weiss began to sing, it was with power and poise, the full body of her voice committed to the big finish.

Mirror, Mirror, what's behind you
Save me from the things I see
I can keep it from the world
Why won't you let me hide from me

Mirror, Mirror
Tell me something
Who's the loneliest of all

The orchestra charged forward as Weiss held that last note. Then, as quickly as they came, they vanished once again. Just as at the beginning of the song, only a piano and Weiss's restrained voice filled the room.

I'm the loneliest of all

Her tone slowly trailed off as the song came to a close. There was a beat of silence, followed by applause. Weiss couldn't stop the thin smile which graced her lips. It had been a good performance, after all. While the situation was far from preferable, she could be proud of what she'd just done. Weiss dropped into an elegant curtsey and exited the stage the same way her father had, all while adoration from the crowd played her off.

Once she slipped behind the concealment of the dark stage curtains, she let her shoulders fall. Standing in such proper posture, even for a few minutes, was taxing. Theater employees swarmed all around in preparation for the next act—some sort of ballet group—but some paused just long enough to offer their congratulations. Weiss thanked them all with a smile, but neither gesture reached her eyes. She didn't know which was more tiring, the performance or dealing with everyone afterward.

She turned a corner to the right, and entered the area which actually was behind the stage, instead of next to it. There, she found the answer to her previous quandary. Jacques waited for her, arms crossed. Weiss ignored her instincts to pause, to turn and run. Any show of weakness would be an opening for him to exploit. Instead, she held her head up high and walked straight over to him. There wasn't even time to mouth a simple greeting before he opened up.

"What the hell was that?" He asked, gesturing toward the stage. "What were you thinking, giving a performance like that? Don't you understand how important this event is? That was absolutely disgraceful. You're my daughter, at least try to act like it."

It was fine, shut up. Weiss was smart enough to keep this notion firmly in her head. She instead offered no reply, content to let her father burn himself out.

"You sang it just fine in rehearsal yesterday, why couldn't you do the same thing tonight? Are you trying to embarrass the company?" Jacque paused, seemingly to collect his thoughts. "Maybe if you hadn't been out so late last night, this wouldn't have happened."

Weiss felt her eyes narrow. A surge of defiance rose up inside her. This man could say whatever he wanted about her, but he would never threaten her friends. Not while she had anything to say about it.

"That has nothing to do with it. I've practiced that for weeks, now. A single late night won't change anything." Weiss did her best to keep calm, but she knew an angry edge worked its way beneath her tone.

"Then why did it sound so terrible?" Jacques countered with what he probably thought was a good point.

Because you don't know what you're talking about! There was nothing wrong with that performance. Again, Weiss was smart enough to keep all of that to herself, despite how every fiber of her being wanted to scream it in his face.

When his daughter failed to respond, Jacques pinched the bridge of his nose. "At least the crowd didn't seem to notice. Try not to embarrass us at the after party."

Weiss felt her heart sink at that.

"I don't wanna go to your stupid party," she mumbled, observing a particularly fascinating spot on the floor.

"Weiss Schnee," her father menaced, "you are going to the after party." He grabbed her wrist and held it up in front of her face. Weiss snapped her gaze to his in surprise, but hid the pain from his tight grasp. "You are a representative of the Schnee Dust Company, and you will make an appearance as such. Do you understand?"

Weiss downcast her eyes. "Yes, Father."

"Good." Jacques released her wrist, and Weiss let it fall. He turned and began to walk away from her. "Enjoy the rest of the show."

Weiss stared incredulously at his back for a moment. She wanted to say his audacity was unbelievable, how after all of that he thought it appropriate to tell her to have fun, but that wasn't at all the case. She couldn't' even be bothered anymore.

Weiss spun on her heel and started off in the opposite direction as Jacques. She hadn't the slightest idea where she was going, but it didn't matter as long as it was somewhere away from him.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Is… is that a subplot? …It is! I told you to expect something totally different. I guess this answers the question of whether or not some RWBY music will be incorporated into this fic. Don't expect too much, but there will be some pieces from the soundtrack.

Songs featured in this chapter, in order of appearance.

1.) "Mirror, Mirror" By Jeff Williams Feat. Casey Williams. I mean, obviously.

If you liked this chapter, or even if you didn't, please remember to leave a review. Did seeing Weiss sad make you sad as well? I know it did for me.

Fuck Jacques Schnee.