September 12, 1918
Weiss returned to the inn to find Hillard and Anastasia waiting for her in the lobby. The latter called her over as the former stood to formally greet her.
"Miss Schnee, I believe this here belongs to you," the British officer said, handing over a small wooden chest.
"What's this?"
"These are the letters between you and Jaune," Anya explained. "The Allies confiscated them from the socialists."
Despite having had a long day at the hospital, Weiss still had enough energy to be visibly shocked. "D-did you read through it?"
"Other than myself and your captors, no one else," Hillard replied.
"How much do you know?" Weiss near whispered.
"Enough to keep my lips sealed."
"What about...Tchaikovsky and his men? They must have gone through these when I was incarcerated! They would know! They would have known too much!"
"You need not worry about those old fools."
Somehow, the captain's assurances were far more ominous than she would have liked. So Weiss pressed, "Surely, you struck a deal with them to maintain their silence."
A dismissive smirk. "You could say that."
Anya grasped her hand. "Isha. I think it is best if you do not express any more curiosity."
The white-haired girl stared at the grand duchess. The latter at her sleeve, a subtle hint to drop it. With a resigned sigh, the former picked up the box and trudged up the stairs. "Thank you for bringing these back, captain."
"You are all the more welcome, Miss Schnee. I hope we can have a more illuminating conversation soon."
Weiss was not so sure of that.
"So you and Jaune fought these monsters of the night," Anya mused.
The former heiress groaned into her pillow. Of course, the grand duchess could not help herself; her notorious nosiness knew no bounds. Anastasia cheekily admitted to having read some of their exchange and was thus impeccably curious. "Grimm. They were called Grimm and they were soulless creatures attracted to forms of negativity."
"Negativity? So if I loathed someone greatly, does that attract these grim beasts?"
"Yes."
"What about if I had great love for someone? Does that repel them?"
Weiss craned her head towards her roommate lounging on her bed across from hers. "Not necessarily. It makes you less of a target."
"So these...grim creatures... They look like wolves and bears?"
The former heiress decided to monologue what she could remember from Grimm Studies back at Beacon, notably all the Grimm she could recall that ever existed. By the time she concluded, she was half-convinced that everything she said flew over Anya's head and she would probably ask for a repeat. Just like Ruby.
"So that's why you train to become Huntresses, right?"
Weiss scolded herself for not giving the grand duchess enough credit. She may be mischievous but she was not as insufferable as her old team leader. Wherever she was now. "To hold back the Grimm, yes. I've already lectured you on this before. At Perm. Remember?"
"Most of it. We did get chased by the Red Army shortly afterward."
"At least I won't have to repeat myself," she breathed.
"Ah, it seems that I did not catch some parts. What are Grimm again?"
Weiss nearly threw her pillow at her. "Go to sleep, Anya. We have an early shift tomorrow. Wounded coming up from Obozerskaya."
Humming. Then Anya shifted in her sheets until she let out a discomforting grunt and said, "Jaune had so many scars. Were some of them from...?"
"I don't think so." Honestly, that blonde dolt had so much Aura it would be a miracle to get so much as a scratch on him. Then again, she could have never really known. Perhaps the many healed gashes she had seen with her own eyes and felt with her own fingers when she helped the other orderlies redress him were from the Western Front.
It was not that she did not in some way appreciate Arc's body. She was more horrified by the damage done; the many areas where shrapnel had broken through his Aura, disfiguring what could have been an admirable physique. The agony Jaune must have felt when his Aura had absorbed too much... For some reason, it started to hurt her as well. Emotionally.
Uncomfortable silence.
Anya once again spoke in a more reserved tone. "I do not know if I should tell you this. But I think you should know that...Hillard convinced General Poole to execute the men who had read your letters. Only Tchaikovsky and his closest confidants were confined to Solovki."
The white-haired girl felt her eyelids flutter open. She crumpled deeper into her bed. "He didn't have to. He could have just paid them off."
"It has already been done, Isha. I'm sorry."
"There's something off about him," Weiss confessed. "I'm trusting that man less and less."
"Captain Hillard?"
"Who else?" She sat up to face her roommate. "His methods are questionable, his motives clash with his contemporaries'... He's an enigma. I think Captain Causson and even the Americans are wary of him."
Anya twiddled with the ends of her hair and bit her lip. Nervous tics. Weiss knew her enough to know that there was something the grand duchess knew that she did not. After a quiet moment, she let out a long-held breath. "I have only heard this from...when papa was talking to General Poole. I did not mean to overhear; I was only passing by and...I could not help it."
"What is it?" Weiss urged.
"Captain Hillard...has connections to British spies."
The former heiress knew she should have seen this coming. Nevertheless, her jaw hung agape. "He's a spy?"
"I do not know. I only heard that he has friends among the British and French spy groups."
"Probably part of a wide intelligence network," Weiss mumbled. "This is not good. He knows. He probably shared it with his contacts. I'm on a list. Jaune's on a list."
"Isha, what are you saying?"
She broke out of her reverie gripped with fear. "My secrets. They know my secrets." It was bad enough that the socialists were aware of what she and Jaune were truly capable of. How much more if the Allies possessed the same knowledge? Could they be really trusted? Granted, she and Jaune did not outwardly express in their writings the Grimm, leaving only subtle hints which they knew the other would grasp easily.
Anya crossed the room and sat on the edge of her bed. "I do not think they will do anything about it. They returned it to you, after all."
"Yes, but after they read through it."
"After they might have read through it. We do not know for sure."
"It's still a possibility. What about Captain Causson? Or the other men in Jaune's brigade? His own squadron?"
"Isha," the grand duchess interjected, "I only mentioned Captain Hillard. I understand why you are suspicious but you do not need to add any more names. I could be wrong."
"You could also be right."
"We will be going to America in time. We will be away from the fighting, from the people who would want to do us harm," Anastasia reasoned. "Who knows? Perhaps them knowing could serve us better? They could use it to protect us and, maybe, help others. Others like you."
Yeah, if ever Earth were to be invaded by Grimm or any more rogue Huntsmen or Huntresses. "Anya, I don't like it. I don't like that they know."
"We cannot be sure of that. We should not jump to conclusions."
"Says the eavesdropping regent of mischief."
A chuckle. "I know when to keep secrets. For now, as you said, we should rest."
Weiss laid back down while her roommate returned to her bed across from hers and put out the only remaining lamp in their quarters. "I need a weapon," she absently dictated to the darkness. "A sword or maybe even a dagger at least. Ugh, I'm being ridiculous again."
"I can hide two knives in my dress."
"I seriously doubt your ability to smuggle contraband."
"... I have not been caught yet."
"Goodnight, Anya," Weiss groaned much to the grand duchess's Ruby-like laughter.
ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: September 12, 2018
LAST EDITED: September 12, 2018
INITIALLY UPLOADED: September 12, 2018