Whitley was anxious.
It was not really a foreign feeling for the young teen. If anything, it was sort of a constant sentiment that plagued him for as long as he could remember. It was hard to feel anything else when you were living under the same roof as his father.
That is not to say that he harbored any ill-feeling towards the man. On the contrary, Whitley looked up to the man. Why would he not? He was the richest, most influential man on the face of Remnant. An incredible feat made even greater when considering the fact that his father had started with nothing.
It also helped that his father was probably the only family member who seemed to remember that Whitley actually exists. The Schnee women were clearly content to ditch him. Then his sisters had the nerve to wonder why he didn't share their hate for the man.
The audacity.
His father was a very demanding man. There was never good enough in his dictionary. If Whitley does something, his father will demand he does it faster, and better.
However, despite what his sisters claimed the man was very much not impossible to please. All you had to do is not make a fool of yourself in front of the world, do as you were told, and answer with 'yes, father' and 'no, father'. Moreover, it also helped that his father while controlling to an unhealthy degree, he was never actually malicious in his actions. Jacques Schnee genuinely believed that he was doing what was best for his children.
Whitley had done it his entire life, and it suited him fine. He had yet to get on his father's bad side even once.
Life was, more or less, good.
Until it was not.
Less than three weeks ago, his father had fallen seriously ill. It was severe enough that he was forced to be bedridden for almost two weeks. Even the best doctors in Atlas had no idea what was wrong with him. There was doubt that it was an assassination attempt by poising, but not even the best practitioners of Mistral knew a poison that could the symptoms his father suffered from.
According to Klein, his symptoms made no sense. His internal organs had been a mess and very contradictory. Some organs were barely functional, while others were performing so well it exceeded what was humanly possible, and it kept changing every hour!
Whitley was not ashamed to admit that he might have cried. In his defense, he truly believed that his father was going to die. Luckily, he didn't. Almost a week ago, his father's condition stabilized.
Still, his father had changed.
Outwardly, the man was very much still the same. He maintained the same unreadable poker face. He carried himself with the same confidence, and his mannerisms were untouched.
However, his eyes told a different story. Before, his blue eyes were brimming with never-ending ambition. they now reflected nothing but pure rage. It was silent, but it was there nonetheless.
It didn't take long for his rage to find a target. It wasn't Whitley, of course. He knew how to navigate around his father.
Sadly, the same could not be said about his mother.
'Poor, drunk, stupid mother. Why did you have to antagonize him?' Whitley shook his head. His father had always been content to let his mother drink herself to an early grave in peace. Perhaps, she wanted a bit of excitement in her life. She was long overdue for a mid-life crisis.
But then again, there had to be better ways to get that excitement than to put a hidden surveillance system inside her, admittedly very estranged, husband's office.
Her reasons aside, Jacques had somehow found out about the cameras. Understandably, he was not pleased.
He confronted her. She denied it. He called her a lying woman of the night. She said that he was a cowardly man conceived out of wedlock. (Whitley was paraphrasing, of course.)
It was nothing out of the ordinary for them. And normally, the exchange between the two would have ended at that. Unfortunately, his father, as previously stated, had acquired a very short temper in his near-death experience.
And apparently, Aura too. Though he couldn't say for sure whether he unlocked it recently, or never really bothered to show it. He suspected the latter, because the way his father fought and used his semblance, spoke of someone with years of fighting experience. That was the only explanation for the vast difference in power between his father and mother.
For minutes later, in the middle of a destroyed garden, Jacques held his mother's broken body by the throat. "I'll it slide this time considering our long relationship, but the next time you pull something like this, I will kill you." He had told Willow, but it did not take a genius to see that it was directed at everyone in the house.
Whitley was afraid that he was the next in his father's path. But surprisingly, the man never went after him. On the contrary, he was father was genuinely much nicer to him than he ever remembered him being. He even smiled at him a couple of times.
Whitley would have been suspicious if it did not make him feel happy. The boy was starved for affection, but at least he was aware of it.
So, for a couple of days, life was good.
Then Beacon was overrun but Grimm, and that was definitely bad. Not nearly as bad as the fact he was currently sitting in a Bullhead heading there.
So, Whitley was anxious.
For reasons that he could not figure out, his father has decided to go to the center of the recent calamity and take the rest of the family with him.
Whitley sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that morning. Moving his gaze, he found his mother's sullen face looking downwards. Whatever injuries she had suffered at the hands of her husband appeared to have healed up nicely, with the exception of a very small bruise near her jaw which seemed persistent to stay as long as possible. Though while her body was back to normal, the same clearly could not be said about her mental estate.
His father had most likely done something to her, aside from the brutal beat down. Whitley sympathized with her. Well, he liked to think he did. It was somewhat hard to seriously feel sad for someone he saw at most once a month and spoke to even less.
Still, he liked to think of himself as a nice person. "How are you faring?" Whitley asked with a hushed his mother softly as he scooted over to her.
Willow jerked her head upwards in surprise as she was taken out of her thoughts. His voice had clearly caught her by surprise. She regarded him with a surprised expression before slowly her eyes softened. "I'm doing well, my love. I was merely thinking." She told him with a kind smile. "But forget about me, how are you doing?"
"I am doing great, I guess." Whitley shrugged. Things could be better, but they certainly could be much worse.
"That's good," Willow said, and that was the end of their conversation. After a couple of minutes of unbearable awkwardness that threatened to become worse, Whitley stood up.
"I uh..I'm going back to my seat." The younger Schnee muttered as he pointed to the seat behind him with his thump. "Good talk."
Whitley made it two steps before his mother called out to him. "Whitley!" she spoke. Turning around, he found her looking at him with an uncertain expression. Her mouth opened and closed several times until she seemed to gather the courage to tell him what she wanted. "Is he…Is your father treating well?"
Whitley stared at her for a second before sighing. He rubbed the back of his neck as he answered. "I guess? I have everything I could possibly need. He doesn't kick me out when I visit him in his personal study. And…uh..he never, like,..hit me or anything like that."
He probably should not have said that last part to someone who did get him by the man.
If his mother took any offense to the last part, she definitely hid it well. She closed her eyes and released a heavy sigh. "I see. That…that is good, very good. Just..just promise me you will be careful around him." His mother pleaded with him.
Though he had an idea of where this is going he still spoke. "Why would I need to be careful?"
"Jacques…your father is very dangerous man, Whitley. In more than one way. The moment he deems anything no longer beneficial to him, he would discard it with no hesitation." Willow explained.
"What are you trying to say?" Whitley questioned with a low tone of voice. Surely, she can't be that daft..
"I'm telling you not to get too attached to him. It would only end badly." Willow advised him with a hollow voice.
And he saw red.
Whitley let out a shallow chuckle. "And exactly who am I supposed to get attached to? You? You are literally the last person that should be talking about discarding people."
Willow's face broke into an expression of pure hurt as his words hit her. "I …. I just …"
He should just turn around and get back to his seat.
"You just what? Did you seriously think I've forgotten how you've abandoned me!? I ask you how you're doing once and you think everything's good? Don't make me laugh."
He was going too far. He knew he was going too far, but he could not take it. His mother had his best interests at heart, yet it made him furious. After all these years of avoiding him, she came to lecture him.
Jacques Schnee was a bastard. He lacked empathy, and always looked down on others. To half the world, he was evil itself given the form of a human. Nevertheless, he was his father. He was the only one who never cast him away.
Jacques Schnee was the only bond Whitley has ever had.
He would not allow that bond to be called fake.
"You're the one who was abandoned by him because you were never good enough. " Whitley spat those venomous words. "So do not cast your own insecurities onto me."
"Easy there, kid. That is still your own mother you're talking to." His father's voice appeared behind him. He turned around and saw the man climbing into the Bullhead, his eldest sister Winter following after him. "No matter how bad they are, there are still some things that must never be said to one's parents."
"I was..just.." Whitley muttered tiredly. 'What exactly was I trying to do?' Dammit, he was starting to feel lightheaded. This is why he hated shouting.
"Don't worry about it, sport." His father ruffled his hair before he guided him to his seat. Whitley offered no resistance. All he could feel was the growing headache he suddenly developed. "Strap yourself, kid. We're moving, now."
Whitley did as he was told, and let his head fall into his hands.
His mother had gone silent. Whitley did not know if it was from his words, or from his father's arrival. Frankly, he didn't give a shit.
He could feel Winter's gaze on him, but he had neither the desire nor the patience to look at her, lest he went off on another rant. After a while, he heard her sigh and move to the front of the Bullhead to seat next to their father.
"You never told me what we were supposed to do in Beacon," Winter stated with an even tone of voice.
"Oh? James didn't tell you? That's odd; I thought you two were supposed to be close῀" Jacques mocked her with a laugh. Whitley smiled. His father never wasted the opportunity to patronize others. "I guess I'm his favorite Schnee after all. Hilarious!"
Whitley didn't have to look up to know that Winter was probably fuming from the taunt.
"Well, there are a couple of things I need to do in there." His father finally answered. "Firstly, make sure my idiot daughter is still alive, meet with Glynda, and let's see…what else." His father wondered for a second before snapping his fingers.
"Oh! I nearly forgot the most important one. I am going to kill the huge fuck-off dragon that made you all shit your pants."
Next chapter is going to be released at the same time tomorrow.