Bonds in Solitude

Each person is entitled to both sorrow and happiness, both of which are irreplaceable. However, both are fleeting in an age of man and beasts.

It's been no more than a week since Weiss's tenth birthday, and she could already feel the massive wedge that had driven itself through her family. Weiss had never thought that the way her father treated her and her siblings was wrong or odd, not until her mother had brought it up to Father and had a big argument with him about it.

She hadn't seen her parents say a word to each other since, yet nothing seemed to change about Father. Mother, however… Father had told her that he never loved her, and it hurt her in a way that Weiss did not think she could easily heal from. Sometimes, Weiss could hear Mother crying, but Winter was somehow always nearby to lead her away from the sound.

Which is what has led to what the young girl was currently doing.

Sitting on her bed, Weiss simply stared at a painting on the wall across from her. Winter had led her and Whitley back to their rooms after Father had come home furious about something or other, but had remained outside to face him herself. "To watch over Mother," is how she explained it.

Nevertheless, it only left Weiss feeling alone in her room that was devoid of much personalization aside from the painting. Quite possibly just as her father wanted it. Speaking of Father, she could hear him raising his voice now.

Whether it was directed at Winter, Mother, or over the scroll, she could not help but flinch when his voice briefly got loud enough for her to make out a word or two every so often. Her only comfort was the bed sheets beneath her as she curled in on herself, and the painting. Supposedly, it had belonged to an old friend of her grandfather who specifically left it to the Schnee children in their will. A gift to them, for some reason.

Nonetheless, she was afraid.

She was alone.

It was only after her father's voice began to quiet down did she begin to drift off to sleep. Her eyes slowly closed against her will, and she gave a sigh that did little to alleviate the growing frustrations in her heart.

However, her drift into the world of dreams would be interrupted by the sound of something clattering to the ground.

Shooting upwards, Weiss looked around wildly. Was a servant cleaning this late in the night? Maybe it was Klein? No, the noise came from inside the room. Particularly, from the direction of the painting.

Crawling to the edge of her bed, Weiss kept herself as low as she could under the blanket. Keeping the sheet wrapped around her body like a cloak, she slowly raised herself onto her knees as the moonlight shone through her window and gave her enough light to see. Her eyes would widen at what she saw, mostly out of a sense of trepidation and curiosity.

On the floor in front of the painting was a small, peculiar doll.

Keeping her blanket around her shoulders, Weiss slowly lowered her feet into a pair of slippers at her bedside. Shuffling over the cold tile of her room, she quietly made her way to the doll. It was certainly more than peculiar, it was downright strange. She felt compelled to pick it up, as if some presence was guiding her.

Bending over, she hesitantly reached to grab the doll. It was well worn and somewhat dirty, yet she felt some semblance of comfort as she brought it into the folds of her blanket. Looking at its featureless face and tattered dress, she could easily see that it was hand made instead of being some commercial toy.

After but a moment, Weiss's gaze soon shifted from the doll to the painting. A small plaque displayed the noticeably absent name of the painting, with the artist simply named as Ariamis with no family name.

A full minute of silence passed as Weiss stared at the work of art, the canvas painting drawing her attention in a way that did not feel natural in the slightest. Then, she saw it. A nigh imperceptible ripple passed over the surface of the painting, only visible due to the slight shadow it casted in the dim moonlight. Reaching out with her free hand, the ripples gradually became more and more intense as her hand drew closer until her fingers finally brushed against the surface.

Like another lonesome girl before her, she clutched the doll tightly, and was drawn into a cold and lonely painted world.

A biting cold nipped at her skin, causing her to shiver down to her bones as her only true protection was the blanket draped around her shoulders. Her vision was clouded in white as the sound of a powerful whirlwind assaulted her ears, and she could feel her arm being tugged forwards with her light body swiftly in tow.

In but a moment, she vanished from Remnant.

The Xanthous King knew the Painted World like the back of his hand. Every sight, scent, and noise was ingrained into his instincts from his endless, self-imposed duty of patrolling for invaders. He would know in an instant if anyone were to ever enter the painting, and so would Lady Priscilla.

Now, he would usually alert his lady of a hostile invader when he saw a trace of one. However, this thought was put on pause as he knelt down and further investigated the footprints in the snow. They were much too small to belong to any adult, which raised two possibilities in his mind.

This was either a midget, or a child.

His thoughts would be interrupted by a distant shriek of terror, which possibly just confirmed the latter of the two options. Visually following the trial, he would see that it led to the wooded cliffs around the mountaintop cathedral. There was nothing in those woods that could incite terror, unless…

Looking around, he would spot a sluggishly dragging track that undoubtedly belonged to a hollow.

Muttering a small curse beneath his breath, Jeremiah stood up and ran through the snow that covered the forest floor as he followed the tracks. The inhabitants of this world never attacked without Lady Priscilla's permission, but any child would be terrified at the sight of a hollow no matter how friendly it seemed, and terrified people can do unreasonable things to try and save themselves.

He needed to find this child before they accidentally hurt themself.

Weiss could not be having a worse night, a thought she previously had when Father had ruined her tenth birthday. That night now looked oh so very small compared to the terror she currently felt.

Her breaths came shallow as she ran through the snow fallen woods as fast as her short legs could take her. The creature behind her showed no signs of slowing or exhaustion, which only further hammered questions into her brain. Questions that her adrenaline-addled brain could not afford to focus on right now. To make matters worse, she had to abandon her blanket to run as fast as she was going now, which only left her in a night dress and slippers. The cold bit into her like a wolf, bleeding her of her strength in addition to her untrained body's low stamina.

All she could do was clench the doll in her hands to ground herself from her growing exhaustion.

Continuing to run, her ever shrinking hopes were completely crushed when the edge of a cliff entered her view ahead of her. Making a split-second, fear fueled decision, she scrambled up a tree as best she could with her weakened body while also wearing slippers. Getting as far up as she could before becoming too exhausted to go higher, the wintry heiress gasped for air before looking down.

Crimson eyes and shriveled flesh stared back at her from the foot of the tree. Oddly, the body language of abomination below betrayed no hostility, but she could not take any chances in the unfamiliar place.

Settling herself on what she thinks is a suitably strong branch, she resigned herself to a frightfully cold night up in a tree. Thankfully, that thing made no attempt to climb the tree, which only abated her fear by some minute amount.

Leaning against the trunk of the tree, Weiss would draw her limbs in to try and preserve some semblance of warmth in her body as she tried to rest her shivering person. Shifting her gaze away from the creature below her, squinted as she saw something moving in the distance.

"Yellow…"

It took a few moments, but her mind finally registered the fact that she was staring at a person. The main contributing factor to her confusion being the absolutely ridiculous hat he was wearing, which completely obscured his face and added at least another four or five feet to his height. The bulbous crown did nothing to lessen Weiss's panicked mood, and in fact may have very well increased it if she hadn't begun to faint right then and there from the mental overload of it all.

"Damn!" Jeremiah called out as he just barely made it in time to catch the young girl as she fell from the tree. Holding her in a bridal carry, he visually inspected her for any injuries before he noticed the doll clutched tightly in her hands. It seems that her limbs had not yet succumbed to frostbite, which also meant that she had not been here in the painted world for long. Something about her seemed familiar, yet he could not quite place just what it was. You'd think a former sorcerer of Oolacile would have a better memory, but undeath takes a toll on the mental faculties.

Shooting a glare at the hollow who had been following the girl, the exiled king made haste to return to the settlement. Lady Priscilla may know more about this girl than what he could currently muster, and there was only so much time the girl had before the cold consumed her. A pyromancy flame could only do so much.

When he did arrive at Lady Priscilla's lonely tower, the woman expressed a measure of surprise that he had not seen in a very long time at the sight of the girl. Kneeling down before Jeremiah, Priscilla spoke with that always gentle voice of her's.

"Dost thou truly not know who this is?"

"I am afraid not, milady."

"This one is a descendant of our old friend, Sir Bylur," she would explain, which is what finally made the xanthous king realize why the girl was so familiar. Holding the girl out before him, it was but a moment before the crossbreed took the girl into her arms and wrapped her in her dress instead of sending her back home.

Seeing the girl's hands clenched tightly around some object, the lonesome princess of the painted world would shift the child around to see what it was. A soft gasp left Priscilla's lips as her sight landed upon the doll that had belonged to her, oh so long ago.

When Weiss awoke from her impromptu slumber, she was warm and wrapped in some kind of blanket. She had quite an odd dream, one about some kind of snowy world with a strange mummy-like creature following her. Though, even though she was sure it was a dream, her limbs and body felt exhausted all the same.

Seeing as no one had come to her room to wake her yet, she took it as a sign that her body had woken up too early. Giving a slightly discontent noise, the child snuggled into her blankets further as a pair of strong arms comforted her.

Hold on.

Frowning, Weiss gave a small sigh as she heard a heartbeat near where her head was resting.

"Go away, Winter, I'm a big girl now. I don't need you to sleep with me anymore," She sort of mumble-yelled into the blanket around her. She was responded to with a small chuckle that filled her heart with warmth, which was quickly dashed when an unfamiliar voice spoke.

"I am afraid, young one, that thou art not where thou dost think."

Ice filled Weiss's veins as she forced her eyes open. Looking around her, she could see that she was being held in someone's arms, but the sheer size difference made her feel like she was the size of an infant again. With eyes the size of dinner plates, she took in every detail she could.

The person holding her was sitting, leaning their back against a pillar of some kind while a fire burned nearby. Shifting her tired gaze upwards, she finally mustered the courage to try and see the face of her captor.

She was beautiful.

However, a lance of fear dug into Weiss's chest when she saw the ridges on the woman's eyebrows, as well as the very fluffy tail that curled into view.

She was a Faunus.

If Father's words are anything to go by, the Faunus don't like the Schnees.

Weiss could be in danger.

As if sensing her fear, the woman gave a concerned frown, and spoke with an exceedingly gentle voice that could soften even the most hardened hearts.

"Fear not, child, for all who are drawn to the lonely serenity of this world are welcome. No harm shall come to thee, for thou'rt under the protection of Priscilla the Crossbreed."

Questions arose on Weiss's tongue, but the sluggish movement of her mouth made her realize how thirsty she was. She could only reply with a dry, exhausted croak, which prompted the woman to reach over to the fire and grab a pot of water, likely melted snow or ice considering that Weiss could not recall seeing any form of water body. Well, she has only been here for maybe a few hours.

A hand suddenly filled her vision, one covered in a yellow glove. It held a wooden cup filled with water, which the parched girl hesitantly took. Trailing to the limb's owner, she came face to face with that ridiculously tall and yellow headdress that caused her to faint earlier.

Her thirst overrode her curiosity, and she gulped down the water greedily, an act which seemed to amuse the man adorned in yellow. After a few moments, the woman holding her, Priscilla, moved to let Weiss out of her grasp, placing the child near the fire to keep her warm.

"Tell me, child, what is your name?" The woman, who weiss now realized was an absolute giant, asked. Her expressions and mannerisms were gentle, not a single ounce of ill intent in her body as she hugged her legs to her body and leaned down closer to the child's level.

"W-Weiss… Schnee," was the girl's response after a few moments of nervousness. She had no idea where she was, or what kind of company she was in, but she felt that she had no choice but to trust Priscilla. It certainly helps that the tall woman had done nothing but help her thus far. However, at the mention of Weiss's family name, the girl would notice a change in the crossbreed's countenance.

"Schnee… thou'rt truly a descendant of Sir Bylur," She whispered with a smile, one that exuded nothing but kindness to Weiss. The mention of the Schnee ancestor dug a small gasp out of the young girl, piquing her curiosity.

"You knew my great grandfather?"

"Indeed, for Sir Bylur was the one who preserved the Painted World during the so-called Great War. He visited a few times in his youth, as did his son, Sir Nicholas."

Painted World? The implications of that name was not lost on Weiss, especially when she remembered the strange occurrences surrounding the painting in her room before she appeared here.

"So you met Grandpa, too? What was he like?" The heiress asked, eager for more information on the man who built the foundation for everything Weiss holds dear. Distracted from her distress by this newfound interest, fear and stress melted away to make room for simple curiosity.

Priscilla seemed to be satisfied by this outcome, her warm smile spreading further across her face as she began to speak tales of how Nicholas Schnee discovered the Painted World after the passing of his father, of how the solitude of creating the Schnee Dust Company drew him to this calm world, and of how even such a great man could feel things such as loneliness and distress.

"-and so, he began courting the girl, your grandmother. T'would be the last this world would see of him, for he was no longer alone," Priscilla finished, running a hand gently through Weiss's hair as the child began to doze off. Once again, the crossbreed held the girl in her arms, a warm feeling spreading through her chest as Weiss gave a soft mumble before nuzzling more into the softness of Priscilla's dress.

This child… a sense of longing panged through Priscilla's chest, one she had not felt in quite some time. Not since she last held Yorshka in her arms, before the child was taken from her by the gods. Why would a prisoner, an abomination, be allowed to nurture a child?

She could not be allowed happiness, and must be content with the cold loneliness of this world.

Such is her fate.

Weiss will eventually have to leave the Painted World, that is for certain. The girl still had family on Remnant, after all. They always leave, even if they do eventually come back. In truth, she had missed dear Nicholas and his jovial way of bringing warmth to this place, fleeting as it was. To learn of his relatively recent passing left the half-dragon saddened, but such is the nature of mortal beings.

Perhaps Weiss will return someday, and continue to do so, but a time will come where she will not return. Whether it be by finding her own happiness, or passing from her mortal shell, she will not return.

Such is the way of things.

"Jeremiah," Priscilla softly calls out, as to not wake her charge. The Xanthous King quickly arrived, a sorcery allowing him to hear her call upon his services no matter where he was. Extending her arms to hold out Weiss so that he may carry her, she gave him her order. "Return her to her home, and ensure she is safe before you make your leave. She has a life to return to."

Giving a silent nod as acknowledgement, the sorcerer clad in yellow carefully took the child into his arms before walking over to the plank, and taking the plunge. He would soon return with empty arms, assuring Priscilla that the Schnee was safe and sound.

And so, Priscilla would wrap her furs and tail around herself, curling up as she rested her head on her knees to prepare to sleep.

A part of her wished for Weiss to return, while another told her that the child deserved better than to the company of an abomination such as herself. Conflicting feelings struggled against her desire for slumber, though it was all swallowed by a single thought.

Whatever happens, she will provide comfort to those drawn by the solitude of the Painted World.

One does not necessarily have to experience the joys of solitude alone.

AN: Hello! This is just an idea I've had swimming around in my head for a hot minute, no idea if I'm gonna just end it here or expand the story later. Honestly, I may have just wanted an excuse to write something with Priscilla in it. Bless the fluffy tail.