Sometimes writing this leads me weird places. For example: I have spent far too much time pondering the question of what Jacques Schnee would smell like. Especially since the answer is probably just expensive cologne.
91. The Hand that Once Fed Me
Klein was already in the foyer when the knock came. He tucked away the feather duster he'd been using on a nearby suit of armor—not really part of his job, but he wasn't sure what to do with his downtime lately. Not with the manor so empty.
He opened the door and prepared to politely turn away whoever it was—Jacques had told him he didn't wish to be disturbed. But then his jaw went slack, and the two people he'd least expected to see back here were standing there.
"Miss Schnee!" he blurted, delighted. "And Miss Schnee. Come in, come in!"
Weiss smiled at him. "Hello, Klein."
He noticed for the first time that there were quite a few people behind them. Three of them stepped forward, all girls around Weiss' age. "These must be your teammates!"
"Hi!" The girl in red gave him a little wave.
They stepped over the threshold. Klein's eyes widened. More came through, then—James, two Beacon professors, and four boys he didn't recognize in the slightest.
"Er," he said. "Perhaps it would be best if some of you waited outside...?"
"Yeah," one of the boys said. "We know. The dragons aren't coming in." Klein blinked.
"Sorry about all this," Weiss said. "It's just that we—"
From somewhere outside there came a noise like a boiling kettle.
"They're fine." Another voice, exasperated... familiar, though he couldn't place it. Too muffled by the closed doors. "Honestly, you're such a—don't you dare!"
Something struck the doors. They bounced and shuddered in their frames. Klein stumbled back, his hand over his heart.
"Stop that!"
Another crash. The doors burst open—one slammed against the opposite wall, and the other splintered and crashed to the ground. A gigantic head poked inside, blue eyes flickering curiously over the walls and floors. It sniffed the air...
"Ah," Klein said, feeling slightly faint. "Hello, Glacier."
"You ridiculous, lumbering old lizard!" Whitley—flustered, disheveled, alive—squeezed past the dragon's head. Then he circled around and, bracing both hands against the dragon's nose, gave him a shove that completely failed to move him. Glacier licked him and almost knocked him flat.
Klein edged away. Glacier spotted him, then, and tilted his head curiously. He put one forepaw over the threshold. Squirmed a little farther inside...
Winter rushed forward and grabbed one of his spines. "Stop it," she snapped. "You aren't going to fit."
Glacier wriggled. The doorframe started to make alarming groaning noises.
Whitley's shoulders slumped. "Oh, wonderful," he burst out. "Just excellent, let's demolish a wall and see what happens!"
Apparently taking this as encouragement, Glacier made one final push and tumbled into the foyer. A cloud of plaster dust and wood shrapnel followed him.
Weiss pinched the bridge of her nose. "I apologize for the... um..."
Glacier barked and spun around. His back foot crushed the suit of armor Klein had been dusting like a tin can.
"Not at all," he heard himself say. "Is—do you—shall I fetch your father?"
"Yes," replied Whitley, without looking up from where he was pushing Glacier's nose away from a painting on the wall.
Another ice dragon poked its head in through the hole in the wall and whistled. Its eyes were a deep, solid black that glittered when the light struck them.
"Not you too—Specter!"
It whined and pawed at the broken door on the floor. Weiss put a hand over her face. "Fine. Fine. I suppose the damage is already done."
Then there were two ice dragons exploring the foyer, and a third peeking inside and barking hopefully at Winter. Klein stumbled up the stairs, fanning himself with his pocket handkerchief. Somewhere behind him, he heard a crash.
"Sir?" He knocked at the door to Jacques' office. "Your children are here to see you."
The door swung open. "What?" Jacques demanded. "Which one?"
"Er."
A draconic screech echoed up the stairs, followed by a sound like tearing metal and Whitley's shout of, "Glacier, no!"
"...All of them, sir."
"Oh my god."
"It's... probably going to be fine," Blake said, though she didn't even sound like she believed herself.
"Oh my god."
"It's not that bad." Ruby gave her a hopeful smile. "I mean... Specter didn't break anything yet?"
"Oh. My. God."
Yang chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of her neck.
"Glacier!" Whitley jumped up and wrapped his arms around the dragon's muzzle. "Stop licking the art!"
Weiss turned to Winter for help, but she was just sort of... standing there. Staring. Steele seemed to notice her discomfort and came to sit next to her, loftily ignoring the space around him—except, despite himself, for the occasional sniff.
Specter was still wandering around, staring at everything with wide eyes, but he was keeping his tail coiled up behind himself and being very careful where he stepped.
Glacier was not.
She hadn't meant to bring him or her brother in the first place, but he'd noticed them going and wouldn't stay behind, no matter what Whitley said. Even when they'd told him they needed to take a dragon carrier, because they had no idea how the Council soldiers around the campus would react to such a large group leaving the school. That had been enough to put Harpy off, which meant that Pyrrha and the rest of team JNPR had stayed behind, but Glacier had stubbornly refused to let Weiss and Winter go alone.
Sweet, except for the knot of guilt it had planted in her stomach. He was supposed to have stayed outside! If her idea brought him back here...
But then there were footsteps coming down the main stairwell, and there was no more time for doubts. Weiss drew herself up and stood directly in Father's path as he descended. He stopped several steps above her and looked down. His eyes narrowed.
"James," he said coldly. "I see you've managed to drag all three of my children into this farce."
Weiss couldn't seem to speak. Then Yang bumped her elbow, and Ruby grinned at her, and Blake took one of her hands. Specter's cool breath ruffled her hair. She breathed in.
"No one dragged us anywhere," she snapped, her head held high.
His lip curled. "Do you really expect me to believe that my son—"
"We need to see the company injection records."
His jaw jumped. Weiss had learned the hard way a long time ago that he hated being interrupted.
"I am not having anyone, least of all my own daughter, smashing their way into my home and making demands of me. And where is Wh—"
"We apologize for the... abrupt entrance," Winter cut in. "But it's a matter of urgency." Then she glanced to her left, to where Ironwood was standing.
"Jacques," he said. "I am sorry about all this, but I needed to talk to you. It's about the rogues."
Father rounded on him. "You have the nerve to come here? Here? After everything you've done? You're a traitor, James. I have nothing to say to you."
Whitley edged around Glacier's bulk. The ice dragon had gone very still—there was a tapestry stuck to one of his spines, in plain view of Father. He whimpered, like he knew he'd done something wrong but wasn't sure what.
Father wasn't looking at them. He was glaring at the General, and at Weiss and Winter, as the four of them argued. Whitley pressed himself against Glacier's side, stroking his scales, trying not to think about how this might be the last time he got to do this.
Oscar stood about ten feet away, usually the smallest safe distance from Glacier for people who weren't family. He hesitated. Then hurried forward, so that he was right next to Whitley.
"Are you—I don't—um." He gave up, and put a hand on Whitley's shoulder. It was... surprisingly helpful.
"—cannot seriously be demanding concessions from me!" Father scoffed. Whitley peeked around Glacier and saw Weiss between her teammates with her arms folded, and Winter stiff at the General's side.
"This has nothing to do with the Council," Ironwood said. "It's about the rogues, Jacques, as I keep telling you. We think Cinder Fall sabotaged this year's eggs."
Father narrowed his eyes. "What, is that supposed to explain the plague of useless hatchlings?"
"They are not useless," Weiss snapped. "But yes, that's why there were so many at risk of culling."
"And you're blaming me."
"No." Winter spoke through gritted teeth. "We think your records might help us prove that she was responsible. And if you have nothing to hide..."
"Oh, save your breath! None of you have any jurisdiction whatsoever, I don't need to prove anything to you. For all I know you want those records for some criminal activity."
"What else could we possibly do with that information?" Weiss demanded. "Publish elemental demographics?! You're being ridiculous."
"I'm being threatened in my own home. And don't think I haven't noticed that you somehow seem to have possession of my kidnapped dragon—"
Whitley didn't duck away in time. Father's eyes locked on his, then widened. "Get away from there!" he shouted.
He almost did it. Instinct made him sway on his feet, ready to back away... but instead he pressed himself against Glacier's chest. The dragon whined and shifted from foot to foot.
"Glacier." Father snapped his fingers. "Here. Now."
Everything was quiet. Much too quiet. Glacier whimpered into the silence, and took a step. Then another. The smells of the house broke over him like a tide. But there was something missing... and something sour in its place.
He hesitated, halfway to Jacques. Looked over his shoulder. The small one stood with Ragnar's boy, shivering. Was he cold?
Glacier had never been able to help when he was cold.
Another click of his rider's fingers. He started guiltily, and his tail tipped over a vase near the wall. It shattered. Glacier ducked his head and slunk closer. Paused again...
But he was close enough to smell him. Like a hard frost, the scent of pine needles carried on a biting wind, cold steel. More to it, now, parts the little ones didn't have—the sharp stinging smell, and another one, artificial, that almost drowned out the rest. And underneath that, underneath everything, an echo of Glacier's own scent. Almost faded away.
He moved closer. The singing one stirred, as if to step in his way, but the steely one grabbed her arm and whispered... something. Glacier wasn't paying attention.
One perfect hand came up. His neck stretched out, helplessly, until it came down to stroke his head. The wedding band clinked against his scales. A purr rumbled up from somewhere inside, somewhere that still held ghosts of his first week of life, when Jacques would hold him in his lap and feed him with those hands.
"Good."
A shiver rolled through him. Calm. Contentment.
Jacques kept petting his nose. It was his favorite spot—except, maybe, for the place Whitley had found, right behind his jaw. His eyes fluttered closed.
"You need to be more careful," Jacques said. Glacier flicked an ear—but his rider wasn't talking to him anymore. The petting slowed. "He's temperamental. It's dangerous for anyone but me to be so close."
Glacier opened one eye. Dangerous? What was dangerous?
Then the small one's voice. Shaky. "He isn't. Sir."
The petting stopped. Glacier whined and bumped his nose against Jacques, like he did with the little ones.
"No," Jacques snapped.
Glacier withdrew his head, his ears drooping.
"Well, Whitley? Do you think you know more about my dragon than I do?"
The little one was drooping, too, hugging his arms around himself. "I only meant... he saved me."
"Hm." Another pat on his nose. Glacier's back leg thumped on the stairs, until Jacques clicked his fingers again and he made himself stop. "He knows you're my son. It's only natural he'd want to return you to me.
That was good, wasn't it? It was good that he brought the little Jacques home. So why did he still look so cold?
"All the same. He's prone to lashing out, and I won't have you getting yourself hurt. You'll stay away from him from now on."
Glacier picked his head up. Away? He didn't want the small one to go away. He whined and thumped the ground with his tail.
The small one shouted, "No!" He didn't want to go away either.
"Enough," Jacques said, harsh and angry. "Glacier, wait for me outside."
He pawed at the ground. He didn't want to go outside. The stable was outside.
A click of his fingers. "Now."
Glacier trembled. He had to listen to that voice, didn't he? But if he went outside, the little ones would go away. He had to make the voice stop.
He puffed up his chest, spines rising all along his throat. Jacques staggered back, his eyes widening. Glacier moved closer. Right up to his ear. And shrieked as loudly as he could.
Then, satisfied, he trotted over to the little Jacques. The other two had moved over near him. That was good. He coiled around the three of them and snorted.
Mine now.
Ringing silence. Steele didn't even dare breathe.
Then Specter perked his head up and chirped, "That looks fun!"
And before anyone could think to stop him he trotted up to Jacques and screamed in his other ear. The man cringed backwards, shouting and waving his arms, and almost fell off the stairs.
"Specter, come back here!" Steele barked. "Honestly! Have some decorum."
Although...
"Steele, no." Winter said flatly.
Jacques spluttered. His face went red, then purple. Steele padded over to where Glacier was coiled around his rider and her siblings, putting himself between them and their father.
It took a moment for the man to form any coherent words. "That's—this is—how dare you—!" His voice climbed louder and louder, until he swore and held his hands over his ears. "I'll have you all arrested!"
...Well. They'd tried diplomacy.
Steele stalked forward and loomed over the man's head. His throat bobbed in a convulsive swallow, and his voice trailed off into nothing. "Nno," Steele said, and blocked the way back upstairs with one foreleg.
Jacques opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.
He remembered all the times Winter had snuck outside and slept in his stall, back when he was still a youngling, because she'd gotten a call in the middle of the night. Perhaps he hadn't made his point well enough. He picked the man up by the back of his coat. That prompted a lot of kicking and shouting.
Steele dropped him again in the middle the foyer, and glared pointedly when he made as if to bolt. He stayed put.
Weiss recovered first. "I think... everyone in this room would rather we left. So how about showing us those records so that we can be on our way?"
No response.
"Um, Weiss?" Blake was still wincing and pressing her faunus ears against her head. "I... don't think he can hear you."