Chapter 47

Octavia was a lovely young girl. The product of noble birth, her cheeks were high, her jaw slender, hair the richest burgundy, and eyes the color of fine olive. Those eyes shined with fear and awe at times as Willow beheld her, planting the gentlest of kisses on her knuckles as she bid her farewell. For it would not do to take her home. No, Octavia deserved so much more than to be a...a concubine.

Willow desired a companion, in the truest sense, someone she could love and be loved by in equal measure, free of the constraints society would put upon them. She wanted to forget the pains that ailed her, lose herself in the arms of someone she could trust. But that would take time. Octavia did not view them as equals, and Willow admitted fault in that. Plucked from her workplace like a prized mare from its stable, there was so much confusion in Octavia, yet she followed all the same. For Willow was her better, displeasing her would incur her wrath.

It broke Willow's heart, to be viewed so cruelly. It would change in time, she knew, but there was never a time in life she wanted to be feared. It was a byproduct of her lot in life. The Matriarch of the Schnee Dynasty. The richest family in the world. And Octavia, little Octavia, heir to a minor fortune, little more than a bargaining tool for her family to barter with, had caught her eye.

Willow knew the feeling all too well, and had suffered the consequences far too long. If she did nothing else with this dalliance, it would be saving Octavia from her own mistakes. That too would take time, and she had an endless supply on hand. So she smiled softly, the lingering contact of her lips drawing a sweet blush across her paramour's cheeks, and bid her farewell before watching as she retreated into her apartment. Out of sight, Willow finally allowed her shoulders to slump, the aches in her body taking hold over her will as she returned to the car, and bid the driver to continue.

Age had never seemed to register with Willow until she had sobered up. Without the fog of spirits clouding her senses, she felt the pains of poor health acutely. It was deserved she supposed, after years languishing, hardly moving but to wander aimlessly or refresh her supply. Perhaps the consequences of childbirth had finally taken their toll. Her back felt aflame after a day's travel, but she took it in stride. A painkiller before bed would grant her relief. Until then she would suffer. She had had enough of foreign chemicals in her body. It felt good to be aware of existence, even if it hurt.

Willow grit her teeth as the car ascended toward the manor. Either she had fallen asleep along the way or had simply been lost in thought. Soon enough the vehicle ground to a halt before the front steps, a familiar figure standing there at the ready.

"Good evening Miss Schnee." Klein greeted, standing a respectful distance from the door. Willow had insisted on a measure of independence after all.

"Good evening Klein." Willow replied with a weary smile, biting back a wince as she pulled herself from the car, closing the door behind her. "How did you fare today?"

Ever the gentleman, Klein offered an arm for support, and Willow gratefully linked her own through it. He had been a long fixture in her life. Almost twice her age, he had fought in The War beneath her father's command, eventually coming to work for the man as his company grew. With his untimely passing, Klein had become the closest thing to a father she had left, serving dutifully as the family butler and caretaker of the manor. He had never given up on her, even when she lost herself to the drink.

"Oh, you know me, productive as ever." Klein chuckled. "A little woodwork, trimmed my bonsai...shared a few words with my successors."

"Those poor young girls." Willow smirked.

"Delightful ladies." Klein corrected. "You should speak with them more."

"And frighten away the help?" Willow scoffed.

"At least stop hiding away in your tower." Klein suggested.

"It's technically a library." Willow noted.

"It has a spire." Klein observed.

"A wonderful idea on mother's part." Willow nodded. "I can watch over my kingdom."

"Those poor subjects." Klein joked.

"Growing richer by the day, if our dearest Weiss has her way." Willow smiled.

"And how fares our little snowflake?" Klein inquired.

"Strong, willful, a pain in James' veritable behind." Willow replied.

"I expected no less...and Winter?" Klein added.

Willow stopped at the foot of the grand staircase, taking a deep breath and staring up at the chandelier. The very thought of her eldest overwhelmed her, bedridden, pained, yet still fighting harshly to protect them from her foes. Ever their martyr. She would be proud if she was not so deeply disturbed. "She fights onward. Father would be so very proud."

She missed him dearly. If only he were still alive. So much might not have come to pass. Perhaps she would have left Jacques before the damage was truly done, before Winter joined the military, before Whitley grew to idolize his father, before Weiss was forced to mature far too young. Willow herself bore equal responsibility for those failings, for she had been a weak willed woman. She fell easily and hard for the first man to make her feel loved, and with her father's demise, she lacked the will to fill his shoes. So began Jacques' reign, and all the harm that followed.

"Indeed he would." Klein agreed.

Willow felt intense fatigue as they climbed the stairs, her fitness undoubtedly poor. Klein, however, was surprisingly spry for his age. The result of a healthy diet and regular exercise he claimed. Willow still lacked the appetite, and a single day out left her drained and lethargic, her grip on Klein's forearm growing tighter with every passing step. Eventually they found themselves before her bedroom door, which he opened dutifully for her convenience.

"Dinner at the usual time?" Klein asked.

"I'll be there Klein, thank you." Willow confirmed. She planted a gentle kiss on his cheek then stepped inside. As the door clicked shut, she let out a deep sigh.

Her room had been cleaned today, the gentle floral scent clinging to her nose, a brand formulated for Faunus. She could not help but smile at the thought. Jacques would have had a fit, "animals infesting the halls" he would have cried. Adorable young girls in Willow's view. Polite and well groomed. Normal people. That was all they ever were. What was an extra appendage here and there? Velvet was such a lovely woman. Anyone who could bring Adel to heel deserved respect. Not that Willow had known her well when she was still...well, sometimes the difference showed in some ways more than others. Coco was always a tad on the slights side. Willow supposed she had her to thank for Weiss turning out as well as she did. Gods knew Jacques despised the girl, as good a reason to like her as any. She could only imagine how he would feel about Weiss' recent paramours. Engaged to be married, and Mistrali to boot. He would have a conniption.

Whitely was still giving Willow the cold shoulder, a sad reality, but he was entitled to his rebellious phase. If he considered himself a he that is. Gods the world had changed. She could scarcely keep up with it. It was like she had awoken from a deep slumber to find herself in another dimension. But she would accept Whitley no matter how things turned out. At least she would know how to handle a woman. Perhaps he would grow some manners alongside the breasts.

Willow pressed her finger against the bridge of her nose, a headache forming amid the flurry of thoughts running through her mind. She barely knew or understood her family anymore. Weiss was the most powerful woman in the world, Whitley a troublemaker, and Winter…

Willow shucked her clothing as the thought sent a pang of pain through her heart. They had not held each other in...years. Not since the accident. If one could even call it that. She barely remembered it at all. The emotional fog and haze of alcohol left her borderline catatonic for weeks. But she remembered seeing Winter, on emergency leave, Ironwood's doing in all likelihood. She had looked her in the eye and asked her why she did it. Truth be told, Willow still did not have a real answer. She could have killed him many times over the years, and had certainly wanted to do it. But that night it had been entirely accidental. With barely a second thought she had pushed him, as she had pushed him many times before, only for him to fall and never get up again.

Winter had barely spoken to her since. Her heart ached to reach out to her. James claimed Winter wanted to see her, no doubt a lie for her benefit. Winter was not ready to forgive, even if she had no, love of her own for Jacques. And Willow did not deserve that forgiveness. She was not about to prey on her eldest child's vulnerability to mend old wounds. She would respect her ire and atone, one day at a time.

A long shower did soothe Willow's thoughts, the hot water leaving her skin pink and raw as she cleansed herself. She rarely bothered with a towel these days, preferring instead to relax in the trappings of her own skin. She still barely recognized herself in the mirror. Motherhood had left her heavy in places, soft in others. Her hair was still pure white, which made it harder to see if it had truly greyed. The sight of herself never failed to leave her unsteady. So much of her life was gone, wasted, tossed away to the drink. The same drink sitting on the table by the fireside.

Willow knew it was not enough. Her body craved it, her mind screamed to give in. She poured a glass of the red liquid and held it to her nose. It was a fine vintage, the product of years in a Mistrali wine cellar, rich and deep. No doubt fabulously expensive. It would have made her quite happy in her youth, wine being one of the few passions she had cultivated. It could be so varied in spite of its simple origins, so beautiful to behold, so delicious to taste. But now it was poison, a destroyer of worlds. She flung the glass' contents into the hearth, watching the female hiss and spit at the intruding substance. The scent filled the air as she fell upon the chair before the flickering fire and let out a choked son.

Never again.

Blake was unhappy about being called away from Ruby's side. Sure, Sun and Nora were still with her, so she was not alone, but that did not make Blake any less reluctant to go. She was still not quite sure how she felt about that attachment, but she had long since stopped resisting it. She was going to protect Ruby, in any way she could, and that was the end of it. Being called away to a meeting with her new "boss" could only get in the way.

The elevator chimed as it reached the top floor. Weiss had just moved back into her office, even before the repairs to the floor were complete. When last Blake had seen it, the reception area had still born the scars of the explosion. Blake did not glean anything useful from the scene. Based on the results, the bomb had been a standard shaped charge commonly used by the Fang for assassinations. Any technician could have made it. If Blake was going to track him down, she would need to pursue other avenues of investigation. But that was for another time.

The reception area appeared nearly repaired, though tarps and caution tape still blocked off the actual site of the blast. The ceiling tiles had been replaced and new furniture had replaced what was damaged in the explosion. Yatsuhashi sat at the security desk beside the office door, opposite the unoccupied reception desk. Blake approached the imposing man, expecting to have to introduce herself and explain the reason for her visit. Instead, the intercom crackled to life. "Send her in." Weiss commanded as the locks on her door clunked open.

Yatsuhashi waved Blake past with a smile. He was guarding Weiss until Yang finished her training. No doubt he would be happy to be out of the line of fire when that time arrived. Blake pushed through the heavy doors. Despite the elaborate wood carvings on their surface, she could tell by the weight that they hid a thick metal core. Combined with the redundant locks, no one would be getting through without Weiss' permission.

"What's this about?" Blake asked. She sat in one of the chairs before Weiss' desk before being invited to sit.

Weiss looked up from the file before her and smiled. That was new. Blake had not seen her smile like that since the incident. "I've selected a new assistant."

"Great, congratulations." Blake rolled her eyes. "I suppose you want me to organize a party to celebrate."

"She's a Faunus." Weiss continued. "She impressed me in her interview, and her resume is impeccable, but some aspects of her past have been impossible to verify. I was hoping you could use your contacts to help."

"I don't have contacts." Blake noted. "Not anymore."

"But you know where to find information." Weiss insisted.

"Maybe." Blake shrugged. "What's the name?"

"Ilia Niji." Weiss replied. Blake twitched at the name. "Someone you know?"

"No, just a...no." Blake managed.

"She's from Mistral, here on a refugee visa." Weiss elaborated. "Her education and job history have been made impossible to verify by the war." Weiss slid the file folder across the desk.

Blake scanned the file for any red flags. Nothing stood out. The transcript of her interview with Weiss was unremarkable, except for the long line of very plausible excuses that made verifying her past impossible. It was suspicious to be sure, and Blake was a suspicious person. "Got anything else?" She asked after going through the file.

"Would a picture help?" Weiss inquired.

"Couldn't hurt." Blake answered.

"Penny, if you would." Weiss instructed. A screen behind Weiss shifted from stock market news to a still from a surveillance camera. Blake gasped, staring at the image, mouth agape. "What is it?"

"She...I…" Blake stammered. "I-I know her." Ilia did not look the same as the last time they had met. Her hair was much neater, she looked more cheerful than Ilia ever had, but she could never forget those eyes. It was her, no question.

"I take it that means she's a member of the Fang." Weiss slumped.

Blake managed to nod, her eyes fixed on the image. "We have to save her."