A/N: Concerning Weiss: I'm not going to say I necessarily like Weiss so much as I genuinely appreciate her. She's probably the best written and most fleshed out of the four main characters. I admire her growth both in skill as she grows and unlocks the full potential of her semblance, and her character as she matures to accept that things are not always how she perceived them to be when she was still living at home. I love that the 'spoiled rich girl' type is the one that has the best moral compass in the show and that she's got class but is not afraid to throw herself head first into whatever she does.

Also, this episode is a two-parter. I hope to get the second part up within a week, but no guarantees as I'm starting a new job and auditioning for another show!

She served him breakfast. She made his bed. She carried his luggage. She ironed his clothes. She shined his shoes. She slept when he permitted. She ate only after she had served him his meals. At night, she laid out his clothes for the next day; she turned down the covers for his bed and stood waiting until he was ready to dismiss her from his service.

She was completely at his mercy.

Yet she refused to let it break her. During the day, she complied, doing everything she could to keep herself as invisible as possible, but her mind was always working, her eyes always looking for a way to escape, to get the collar off, or perhaps…kill her captor.

Getting away was impossible for the time being. During travel, she was unceremoniously loaded up with the luggage in the cargo holds of one of the airships, and at most camps, the White Fang made sure to stay off the main road and away from cities. Planning an escape was difficult when there was no destination in the escape plan.

After two weeks on the road, they reached Vale's headquarters for the White Fang: a converted series of warehouses on a river. Outside town but with easy access to roads, plenty of storage and concealment, and already established buildings made it an ideal setting if not as elegant as its counterpart in Mistral. It only took Weiss a few minutes to discern the eerie silence of the area.

"We're on the outskirts of Mountain Glenn?" she asked.

"The existing infrastructure and central location made it a logical choice," Adam replied.

"There are no grimm here," she commented.

"No. Not anymore," Adam handed her two bags to roll and two additional garment bags to carry. "All the grimm within at least a hundred miles are concentrated on the city of Vale and Beacon."

Her shoulders sagged as she followed Adam to his new quarters carrying his belongings like a pack mule. Beacon had become her second home, and a place where she'd finally learned to find herself. She wouldn't call the longing she had for her old school homesickness, but she did miss her school and her old schoolmates.

She was hanging clothes in his walk-in closet when she heard a knock on the door.

"Heard you were back," a husky voice said from the doorway, clearly addressing Adam. "How long do you plan to stay around this time?"

"For the foreseeable future," Adam replied.

She'd sectioned off a set of clothes that needed ironing, re-entering the main room to collect the ironing board and iron from the linen closet.

"Sienna done giving you a spanking then?..." His face abruptly changed.

The huntress had grown accustomed to being invisible to the faunus around her during her travels. She was excluded from all conversation and was not permitted to speak unless spoken to. This was different. She knew Adam's visitor had been taken aback at the sight of her, and stopped to look at him out of curiosity.

Adam wasn't short, but his visitor towered over him, having a good six inches on his superior. Bulging arms, mocha colored skin and black hair gave him a rugged look that matched his voice. She knew him. She'd never seen his face before, it had been obscured by a mask at their first two encounters, but his build as well as the tattoo on his arm were enough to bring the memories flooding back. She recoiled subconsciously.

"What the…?" he asked in pure shock.

The shock brought a sadistic smile to Adam's face. "Ah yes, you two must have encountered one another during your initial station at Mountain Glenn." He snapped his fingers at Weiss, a demeaning gesture ordering her to approach them. "May I present to you the prototype for our new method of dealing with the humans."

The lieutenant scoffed. "Keeping her as a pet?"

"Keeping her as a slave. Humans deserve the humiliation of being subjugated to a superior race. From now on, any humans captured will be put in service of the White Fang."

"And you captured her yourself?" The lieutenant seemed both in awe and perturbed by the concept.

Adam tossed his head arrogantly. "Took her from her mansion in Atlas. I was going to make her a gift to Sienna, but our high leader wouldn't have her." He flicked the collar around her neck. "We have the same setup as the mines: collared, branded and in uniform. Now if I could just break her spirit. She's a stubborn one for sure. She obeys, but I can still see the defiance in her eyes."

A mischievous smirk danced at the corner of the lieutenant's mouth. "I'll bet I can break her. Last year on the train she gave me a good run for my money, but I still took her down. I wouldn't mind putting her in her place again."

Adam shook his head. "I don't want her body broken. If she's hurt and can't serve, she's of no good to me. Besides, I want to be the one to break her."

"I see. You want to have all the fun." He took another step toward Weiss and could have touched her had the huntress not recoiled behind Adam. She hedged her bets that Adam would be angrier with the lieutenant for defying him than he'd be at her for disobeying an order.

"Perhaps you misunderstand me, soldier." Adam said, his voice deepening to be more authoritative. "She's a human here to serve the faunus. Not a punching bag, and not a new toy to be passed around." He looked his underling square in the eye in the most aggressive display of dominance Weiss had seen. "She's mine and she's not to be touched. Are we clear?"

"I believe so," he said, still eyeing the heiress, both of them knowing full well at some point they would come to blows again. Perhaps Adam sensed this or perhaps he was just selfish. Whatever his reason, he was loath to share his trophy with anyone in Mountain Glenn, reserving her for errands and service specific to himself, only trusting her with Ilia and a handful of his closest officers, the lieutenant not included.

After a few weeks, she stopped noticing the absence of her aura. Her life gradually grew more mundane. Endless days of menial tasks and nights on uncomfortable beds. It was shocking how quickly her life of servitude became normal. The routine of taking orders and being ignored was frighteningly easy. She could see now why it was so easy for the faunus to just accept being treated differently a hundred years ago.

With Adam out on a mission for a few days, she was spending her days while he was gone as a watergirl for the training sessions with the officers and the new recruits. The middle warehouse in the string had been cleared, creating an open space for combat, and shelves had been installed for weaponry, serving as both an armory and a list. The lieutenant she had crossed paths with dominated the ring with his chainsaw, brutalizing every newcomer like it was a gang initiation rather than a training intensive. One boy in particular, a badger faunus with black and white fur streaks extending from his nose to his ears, looked afraid for his life inside the ring.

It killed her to watch it. He was a kid, maybe fifteen at the oldest, and the Lieutenant was beating him from one end of the list to the other. His weapon was a battle axe he clearly wasn't accustomed to wielding. He was visibly fatigued and nowhere the skill level of his opponent; a casual observer could see this wasn't training, it was a beating.

The lynx who was acting as referee called time.

"Water!" the lieutenant order. Weiss scurried forward, bringing him his water first, only to be rewarded with a sweaty towel to the face. "Fetch me another," he barked.

"Yes, sir," the huntress slung the towel over her shoulder, the offensive stench already in her nostrils. She moved to the other end of the ring to give the young badger his water. He was bent over in pain, panting and gasping for air. He wouldn't have even seen the bottle being offered to him had Weiss not pushed it into his field of vision. He gripped the bottle without looking up.

"Make sure you chamber your blows before you swing," Weiss said quickly.

"What?" he looked up at her, still panting.

"You're getting tired and intimidated, so your swings don't follow through." She bent down and picked up one of the long handles used for practices between rounds to demonstrate. "When you swinging, you should be parallel to the ground, like this." She demonstrated the proper form. "When you're tired or feel trapped, don't just start swinging wildly because that puts all the swinging on your arm muscles." She made a few shallow swings at him. "See how those have no power under them? If you make sure you're chambered right every time, you'll deliver the blows from your core and you'll do more damage without wearing your arms out."

The badger squinted at her in mistrust. "Why are you helping me?"

"Because nobody deserves what's happening to you in that ring," she replied. Looking around, she saw the lieutenant taking notice of her linger too long and bolted away to find him another towel in the supply room.

When she returned, the lieutenant snatched the towel without so much as looking at her. She scurried away just in time for the moderator to call the combatants back in.

The lieutenant and the badger stepped back into the ring, preparing for another round. The badger looked doubtfully at Weiss who gave him a confident nod. The whistle blew, and the lieutenant immediately charged. The young recruit reverted to a defensive position, taking blow after blow as his superior pushed him into the corner.

He stayed in that corner for the rest of the match. By the time the lieutenant was through with him, the boy had to be helped back to the barracks, his arms and legs riddled with bruises and cuts.

When evenings came she was typically dismissed to have free time until curfew, giving her about two hours to herself, which she usually used to shower and hide in her abysmally small quarters to keep from being ordered around any more. This evening, however, she made her way to the mess hall to enact the plan she'd thought up during the afternoon. It was already dark, meaning the majority of off duty members were gathered in the mess hall. The tables were grouped by activity, some eating a late dinner, some playing cards, and the largest section just sitting around drinking telling war stories. Steeling herself, she approached the table of latest recruits, the badger sitting directly in the middle. Approaching the table, she placed her hand gently on his shoulder.

"Miss Amolita would like a word with you, recruit. If you'll follow me."

The badger looked reluctantly at his peers who either shrugged or asked what kind of trouble he was in to get a summons from a superior. He stood and stepped over the bench following Weiss out of the mess hall into the darkness.

"I'm not going to be sent home, am I?" he asked from behind.

"Not yet," Weiss replied. She headed toward the training warehouse; he followed, not asking any more questions.

It took her a moment, but she found the switches and flipped them on, the lights humming as they warmed up and brightened gradually. She immediately made her way to the wall to select a suitable practice weapon. The young badger stood, a little confused, looking around for Ilia as his eyes darted around the empty room.

"Amolita isn't here," he finally said, squinting at her.

She ignored him, selecting a wooden sword approximately the length of her rapier, "What's your name?"

"Dax...Branagh...my friends back home called me Bran."

Weiss raised an eyebrow. "Your name is Dax and no one seized the opportunity to call you Dax the Axe?"

Bran shrugged. "I didn't fight back home. This axe was my father's. He fought in the Faunus War. I'd never even used it until a few weeks ago when I left to join the White Fang."

"So, no one's ever taught you to fight?"

Bran shook his head. "My dad didn't want me to be a fighter. He wanted me to stay at home and be a tailor."

"Why didn't you?"

"My father fought for the right of faunus to be treated like equals, and I wanted to fight that fight too, especially now that humanity is on the defensive."

"So, you have no formal training?"

"None."

"Do you know how to use your aura?"

"I know what it is. I'm still learning how to use it." He brandished his arms, where the bruises from earlier in the day were already fading.

"What about your semblance?"

Bran exhaled deeply, almost as if he were going to shout, but after holding his breath for a short time, he exhaled heavily, shaking his head.

Weiss took a step toward him, testing the weight of the practice sword as she walked. "It's ok if you haven't unlocked your semblance yet. A friend of mine hasn't unlocked his and he still got into Beacon Academy." She held her sword up, expecting him to do the same. Bran remained unmoved, still suspicious.

"You're human. You're a Schnee. You're a prisoner here. You're...Adam wants to enslave your people."

"And?"

"And…you…want me to succeed?"

Weiss exhaled. She knew why she was doing this. He reminded her of Jaune. Determined and utterly lost. "I want you to survive. Let me at least teach you the basics." she finally said.

Bran let out a drawn-out sigh. "Ok."

"Good. Grab a practice weapon that's two-handed about the same length as yours."

He searched the wall, the only comparable item was a hammer. "This will have to do," he muttered. Weiss was already in the practice ring, leaning against the ropes. Bran stepped through to join her.

"First lesson will be how to wield your weapon. You have a two-handed weapon and it's heavy. So what you're going to be looking for is concussive force over cutting or stabbing. The lieutenant you fought today had a similar weapon, meaning your fighting styles will be similar. The difference is, he's experienced and has good upper body strength."

"I'm aware," Bran said, brandishing his bruises.

"What you have to do to hold our own then is to deal good concussive blows while being agile enough to out-maneuver him. He'll end up fighting a battle of attrition if you can deal blows without getting hit." She took her stance and demonstrated how to swing. "Rotate your core, step into it, follow through to transfer the kinetic force."

Bran tried, taking a step, stopping then swinging the hammer.

"Again," Weiss ordered. "Step into it and swing at the same time."

He tried again.

"Better. Again."

On his third try, the step, core movement and follow-through all came together to produce a powerful swing of the weapon. He could feel it. His face lit up with the excitement of his own success.

"You can feel the difference, can't you?" Weiss asked.

Bran nodded.

Weiss smiled satisfactorily. "Good, now we just need all of your swings to be that powerful. Now again."

She made him repeat the motion, switch sides, swing while moving forward, swing while ducking, swing with his non dominant foot forward, correcting every time his posture wasn't perfect. After an hour, his arms were on fire.

"I think that's enough for tonight." Weis said. "If you agree not to tell anyone, I'll train you like this every night until you can take that lieutenant down."

Bran nodded firmly. "Thank you, mis."

Weiss laughed. "Technically, I'm supposed to call you sir, but I won't complain."

They came up with a plan to sneak to the training warehouse every night as they reshelved their weapons and stole back to their respective barracks for the evening, both agreeing to keep the training under wraps.

Even with the threat of being caught looming over her, it was the one thing Weiss could look forward to in her day. She'd have to come up with some contingency plan after Adam returned, whenever that would be. During the days, she followed orders, but the minute she was released at night, she carefully stole to the warehouse and waited for Bran.

He learned quickly. After a week, he was much better on his feet, able to use his axe to block blows or dodge them altogether, stepping in, getting in two good blows and stepping out, and he did it all with perfect form. Weiss was proud of her little trainee, though it wouldn't matter until he had a real, moving opponent.

"Are you ready for a real target, now?" Weiss eventually asked.

"You want me to hit you?"

"Why? Afraid of hitting a girl?"

"Not when you've been so nice to me."

Her gaze softened. He didn't belong in a group of terrorists. He was still so young and innocent. "You're a sweet kind," she said with a sigh, "but if you want to survive training, much less the real world, you can't afford to be this passive. I'm a human, remember? I'm the enemy and you don't even feel comfortable attacking me?"

"Perhaps you'd prefer someone that would actually pose a challenge," a voice said from the doorway. The lieutenant stood with his hands resting on the doorframe, other curious faces peering around him from the dark of the outside. Bran straightened immediately.

"Lieu...Lieutenant! I was just having the slave here, help me with my training." He was a terrible liar, and it was written all over his face, but at least he was committed to the bit. "I thought she'd make a fantastic training dummy."

"I see. Perhaps then you'd like to see if your extra effort has paid off at all. What do you say to a rematch?" Nothing about his tone or body language indicated that he was giving Dax any options as he sauntered into the warehouse, allowing in a string of faunus behind him that never seemed to end. There was no doubt in Weiss' mind that this was by design. Somehow, he'd found out and brought the bulk of the mess hall with him to watch. He'd even had an underling carry his chainsaw in for him.

Weiss turned to her pupil. "You can refuse, but I think you can do it."

Bran looked the lieutenant square in the eye. "I accept." he said solemnly.

Cheers and hollers went up from the crowd that had gathered. A referee was chosen and the combatants took to their corners. When the whistle blew, the lieutenant wasted no time in charging, but Bran had been practicing his footwork and managed to stay outside his reach. Following his practice, he moved in, struck on opposite sides and stepped back before his opponent could react.

He did everything right. He kept his back to the edge of the ring. He kept his distance. He stayed light on his feet, and was able to hold his own for the first four rounds of five minutes apiece. After the fourth round, both combatants were wearing down, and the lieutenant's skill was giving him the upper hand.

After the fifth round, Weiss was ready in his corner with a water bottle. The towel around her neck and stern expression would have made her look like a boxing coach if she didn't have such an emaciated frame.

"I don't know if I can do this," he told her between gasps. "He swings so hard."

"You need to end this now," Weiss said, her eyes locking with the lieutenant's across the ring. "What's your semblance?" she asked Bran.

Bran shook his head. "My semblance is not going to help."

"I asked what your semblance was," she said firmly.

"I can mimic sound." he breathed, almost embarrassed to admit it but too tired to continue arguing with her.

"You mean voices?"

"Any sound I've heard before." A frown pulled at the corner of his mouth. "See? Not much good for combat."

"Are you dense? You could win every with a semblance like that." She leaned in close and lowered her voice. "Go in for the two strikes like before, but between the first an second blows, use your semblance to distract him. Make it big enough you can sweep his feet before he can even register that he needs to move. Can you do it?"

"I can try. What sound do I even make?"

"Anything. Imitate his chainsaw snapping or a beowulf roaring, anything super loud that might give him pause."

"I got it," he said just as the whistle blew. He resumed his stance in his corner impatiently waiting for his shot.

When the round began, the lieutenant hung back having learned his lesson from the last few rounds. After a short time of dancing around the ring, he took a swing at Bran, giving the badger the perfect opening.

Weiss' chest tightened as he struck the first blow, which the lieutenant easily blocked, pushing Bran's axe away with impressive force for being so far into the match.

"Lieutenant!" Adam's voice suddenly boomed out from the open doorway of the warehouse.

All heads turned to the warehouse door, Weiss and the lieutenant included, stunned to see no one at all. The huntress almost laughed; Bran had even fooled her. Before she could turn back to the action, it was already over.

The room descended into absolute silence, which was broken by the crashing of the lieutenant's back against the concrete. He was down, and Bran had his axe in the lieutenant's face. He looked over his shoulder at Weiss who only smirked and nodded approvingly.

All was quiet, no one daring to cheer for the new recruit over their own superior. Bran held out a hand to help his opponent up, but the lieutenant pulled himself without accepting the badger's help. Murmurs went through the onlookers, and for fear of looking unsportsmanlike, brushed himself off and said. "It looks like your training is being beneficial. Keep at it and you'll be useful to the White Fang's cause." before turning with a huff and getting out of the ring. Once he was clear, Bran's peers felt comfortable approaching him to offer their adulation. Weiss used the opportunity to slip out quietly and make her way to the barracks before anyone caught her for being out past her curfew. As she snuggled between her rough blanket and thin mattress, she knew she'd sleep well tonight. She had accomplished something satisfying. After only a few minutes, she was slumbering peacefully.

She didn't hear him come in, the first sensation she felt at all was being dropped onto the floor as her body snapped awake and her heart began racing. Utter panic and confusion ensued as a looming figure stood over her, delivering blow after blow with his fists.

Instincts kicking in, she tried crawling under her cot, only for her attacker to lift the cot off the ground and strike her with it, leaving massive bruises on her torso. On his second swing, Weiss tried blocking the blow with her arm; as the metal met her forearm, she saw white, screaming with pain as she heard the snapping of her own bone inside her body. With no aura and no way to protect herself, she curled up in the fetal position and just prayed it would stop as the disgraced lieutenant dropped the cot on the ground and began savagely kicking her in the ribs. Tears and screams were to no avail; she'd ruined his reputation as a badass warrior, and he'd have his vengeance for such disrespect. Blood flowed into her eyes, effectively blinding her as the beating seemed never to end.

Once his rage was all worked out, he used his foot to scoot her crumpled body out of the way to restore the cot to its original location, a clear statement that the furniture mattered and she didn't. Stepping over her body, he shut the door behind him, leaving as if he'd conducted normal business, leaving her unconscious and bleeding frame on the cold floor.