Interlude 3-3: Homefront, Part V

In retrospect, under careful observation, without emotion, with clinical consideration, and using other things that Weiss really didn't like to do in regards to her own life, Weiss could theoretically come to the conclusion that she had never been pampered. Oh, she'd been gussied up, she'd put on the ritz, and she'd definitely been beautified, but she had never been pampered. "Pampering," in her mind, required a certain amount of love and care that she had just never gotten from her family or anyone else in Atlas.

Well, she was getting that now, and she didn't like it.

"Come now, it will really bring out your eyes, I promise," Grandma Belladonna said soothingly.

"No!" Weiss replied petulantly.

Yes, petulantly; it was childish, but she didn't care.

Weiss was sitting in front of a massive mirror in Lady Belladonna's room — Lady Belladonna's room, because the Chieftain had vacated this space two hours ago once he had slipped into his simple formal wear so he could leave the women alone and argue with his father about everything — with Lady Belladonna herself on Weiss's left side and Grandma Belladonna on her right, though they switched sides frequently. The two of them had evidently decided that tonight was going to be a fairy tale ball for her — a debut even — and so, they had broken out seemingly every piece of jewelry and fabric they had to dress her up like the metaphorical fairy tale princess they thought she should be. Blake, the traitor, was just standing there in the corner smiling that interminable smile of hers while occasionally offering advice to her captors.

It was fair. Weiss didn't want to do this; she didn't want to go back to the fancy side. She had left that life behind her, and she had vowed to live a life of poverty and destitution in service to the people. Yet now, she was trapped! Trapped by societal convention. She couldn't turn down a gift, especially one presented with such enthusiasm and genuine excitement; everyone knew that.

Still, there were certain lines that one just could not cross.

"What's wrong, Weiss? I thought bindis were common in Atlas," asked Lady Belladonna with such sweetness that Weiss really couldn't stay mad at her.

Still, she put on her best effort. "That's exactly why I can't wear it. I won't wear anything that's so stereotypically Atlesian, even and especially if it's not as popular as it once was. I don't want to be associated with that frozen wasteland anymore."

Lady Belladonna frowned patiently. "Weiss, starting a new life doesn't mean you have to abandon everything from your past."

"Nothing good ever came from Atlas," Weiss insisted stubbornly.

There was a long moment of silence.

"Aren't your Shadowbolt friends from Atlas?"

That … hurt. Weiss wasn't quite sure why it hurt; she hadn't actually spent much time with the Shadowbolts before they … made her part of their group, because they were just that friendly. They had given her a nickname, one she was now using everywhere she went; people knew her by her Shadowbolt callsign. Magic — Twilight — had met her once at a party years ago and considered that enough of a connection to put herself at risk and uncover the goings-on at Park Place. If it hadn't been for the Shadowbolts, she never would have gotten to the place where she could heap scorn upon them for being from Atlas.

She kept having to remember this, kept having to fight back the hate that it was so easy to fall into. Such behavior was … shameful. Why did she keep falling back into this? Why did she want to hate?

A bit of sobriety restored, she now considered what she had been saying in a new light. She was a Huntress, a defender of the people without borders, and a guest of House Belladonna. What she said and did reflected on them, and what she was saying rebuked years of public policy that they had all fought and strove for, heaping dishonor upon them as well as herself.

This was all her fault, and since she was still trapped by societal convention, she couldn't just leap out the window to go and brood for a few months, which meant that she had to make this right.

"I'm sorry," Weiss apologized, blinking away tears of shame. "You're right. I just can't seem to stop…" She trailed off. "Hating."

She was engulfed by warmth, and she blinked her eyes open to find Lady Belladonna wrapping her arms around her.

"There, there, Weiss," she said comfortingly. "I know it's hard, but…"

"If you want to stop hating," Grandmother Belladonna said, her voice quiet but firm, "then I suggest you start with yourself. Otherwise, you'll end up like Blake."

"Hey!" Blake protested. "Gramma, I'm right here!"

"Of course you are, dear," agreed Grandma Belladonna. "Instead of married to that boy of yours and giving me some great-grandchildren."

Thanks to the mirror, Weiss was able to see for herself the face Blake made at that. "I don't believe this. When I'm in Vale, I'm told I need to be in Menagerie. When I'm in Menagerie, I'm told I need to go to Mistral."

"You could get hitched and live here," pointed out Grandma Belladonna.

"I'll get around to it eventually!" shouted Blake before grumbling. "Besides, Sun still needs to finish his time at Haven Academy. I can't just marry him while he's at school."

"Didn't Yang's parents marry while they were still in school?" pointed out Weiss.

"Yang's family is insane! They're the sort of people who raise daughters who run into three-way firefights so they can get shot!" Blake hotly declared before pouting. "That should have been me. It would save me a ton in advertising."

The other women blinked in incomprehension at Blake.

"Riiiiiight," said Grandma Belladonna before turning back to look at Weiss through the mirror. "Weiss, I know you've heard it before, but Menagerie really is the land of new beginnings. The only chains you'll find here are the ones you bring with you."

"Weiss, just leave them be; you don't need to carry them with you any longer," Lady Belladonna assured her softly.

She was finding it awfully hard to resist their logic. "You all are really going all in on this metaphor."

"Considering how obsessed you are with proving how un-Atlesian you are and how much you dislike them, comparing your feelings to chains is fairly apt," observed Blake. "I'm tempted to tell you to let it go, but that would be hypocritical."

"I can let it go just fine if I put it in the form of a song," shot back Weiss. "I'm not in a singing mood right now though."

She looked in the mirror again and focused on the space between her eyes. Would it really be so bad? Everyone at the party would just think of it as a fashion accessory, probably something from Mistral. It would just be a fashion accessory to her too, because she wasn't Atlesian anymore, and she didn't need to chain herself to that kingdom's cultural heritage.

And there was that metaphor coming up again.

"This bindi that you wanted me to wear, what does it look like?" asked Weiss tentatively. What would be the harm?

Weiss looked at herself in the mirror and draped her long braid over her shoulder; it was woven through with delicate flowers: plumeria, aster, champak, blue star, red primrose, yellow wildflowers, and azalea. There was no point at all in hiding it from view after all the effort that Kali had gone through to adorn it for her. Even draped across her shoulder as it was, the braid still reached down beyond her waist and almost to her knees.

The reason it was necessary to wear it over the shoulder was obvious when Weiss threw on her veil of scarlet, decorated with a golden fringe and scrollwork of gold and green upon the inside; she wore it draped over her head, held in place by a hair pin, so most of the inward-facing decoration was still visible to view. Her skirt was black as night, and where her silvery braid fell across, it was almost like the moon against the night sky; scarlet ribbons, tied up in bows, adorned the skirt at the front of the waist and on the sides, where the skirt was ruffled in undulating waves.

Weiss's blouse was tan with lines of black running across it and short-sleeved to expose her pale arms to view. Both her arms were adorned with jewels, climbing from the wrists upwards towards her elbows, bands of gold of varying thickness, but all set with emeralds and rubies that would glisten in the light of Remnant's shattered moon. Around her throat was clasped a heavy choker of gold, with golden flowers decorated with more rubies and emeralds in the center of them, while a lighter necklace of small pearls, with only a single ornate golden flower set in the center of them, descended from her neck towards her collarbone. Her earrings were of ornate gold, with pearls set in the center of them and dangling from them in five falling strands like rain, each ending in a teardrop.

The most eye-catching feature for Weiss though was the bindi, a fashion accessory in most of the world but a sign of something important in Atlas. This bindi in particular was a teardrop-shaped red gemstone that, according to Grandma Belladonna, had once belonged to her own mother, but in the form of a necklace. The gold frame of the necklace had been sold to get through an undescribed rough time during the Great War, but she had held onto the gem and its three sisters, eventually giving it to Grandma Belladonna. It had been fashioned into a bindi by her new husband, Tricky Ricky, so that she could conform to some fashion fad in a Valish city, which had helped get them a business deal. After Lady Belladonna married into the family, the bindi had been part of a small jewelry collection given as a housewarming gift by her new mother-in-law, and it was something she wore on occasions when she could break out a matching kimono. All of which brought it to Weiss's forehead that night.

So the bindi did mean something after all, and it was something good. Not many would know it, but it represented generations of Belladonna women and their struggles. There was a history to it, and with a sobering thought, Weiss realized that she was now part of that history of Belladonna women. Or, at least, she was for the next twelve hours, since that was how long the MARS brand fashion adhesive was rated for.

And if anyone missed that message, well … she wasn't alone. The other ladies had donned bindis of their own, all from the same collection. Lady Belladonna and Blake wore bindis identical to Weiss's, while Grandma Belladonna wore a diamond-shaped one that was — somewhat ironically, considering the rest of her jewelry — not made out of diamond but the same material as the others. The matriarch's jewel had originally been the centerpiece of the necklace, and now, she was joking that it was the center of Weiss's vanguard.

The jest did not appear to be humorous on purpose, or even very funny. In fact, it seemed to have been absolutely genuine. Weiss didn't know how to feel about that. She didn't know how to feel about three generations of the most important women on Menagerie acting as cover for her. She, who was born of a usurper and despoiler, was … they were … they were doing this purely for her benefit, so she wouldn't feel like she was alone.

They were too good for her, and yet so very very annoying. There had to be a word for that, she was sure of it. In the meantime…

"This isn't quite what I was expecting," observed Weiss, her eyes briefly being drawn to the jewelry on Lady Belladonna's own hand.

Well, it wasn't just her hand. Lady Belladonna had dressed in a yellow bunad with mauve trim and a shawl around her shoulders, all made out of much thinner material than the garment's woolen origins. A richly embroidered loincloth draped over the bunad's skirt but stopped short of the hem, allowing the viewers' eyes to drift down to her black silk pants that ended at the ankles with rich black leather sandals.

The jewelry was the real eye catcher, though. Besides the red teardrop-shaped bindi nestled between her eyes, she also sported at least four gold bangles on each wrist, every one of them intricately embedded with numerous gemstones. More stunning was the haath phool decorating her right hand, a unique design that had five gold rings on her fingers connected to the wrist bracelet with beaded chains regularly decorated with gold flowers inlaid with gemstones that gave the back of her hand quite the decoration, all of which was an engagement gift from the Chieftain. The jewelry was quite fragile, though, and so, she usually forewent wearing it in lieu of a purple armband on her left bicep, though that night it was mirrored by a braided cord on the opposite bicep that was decorated with the emblem of those Belladonnas who had married into the house.

Her ears had been an affair all their own. Each of her human ears was decorated with a chandelier earring that looked like an upside-down flower petal, each one inlaid with one large ruby and three dangling cyan gems attached to small disks with another set of rubies inlaid. However, her hairstyle that night was asymmetric, exposing her left human ear and its second piercing. That piercing was connected to a thin chain that ran backwards and through the rear of Lady Belladonna's hair, having been supported by a hidden pin, to split into two and attach to the two piercings in her right faunus ear. A single sapphire hanging by a gold thread from her left faunus ear seemed almost like an afterthought.

Lady Belladonna brought her wrist up, flashing the intriguing haath phool on it. "Would you have been comfortable with what you were expecting?"

"Well, no—"

"Then relax," Blake told her with a smile. "I'm not wearing much jewelry either."

"You're dressed like a stereotypical martial artist," noted Grandma Belladonna.

"Because I'm the champion," countered Blake with false aggrandizement that made it clear she still had a lot to learn about being a showwoman.

Her outfit was, according to her, based on an order of warrior nuns from the ancient lands that would one day become Mistral who banished evil demons and Grimm with mystical powers and dust. How much of that was accurate and how much of that was taken from Blake's favorite book series, Weiss did not know. Weiss did not want to know. What she did know was that Blake looked absolutely gorgeous in it.

Like Weiss's regular outfit, Blake wore Mistrali gladiator sandals, though Blake had opted for white socks instead of Weiss's preferred black. She wore on her legs an ocean-blue pair of silken pants, into which was tucked a white and blue silk kosode, whose hems on the chest depicted expertly crafted geometric shapes and whose short blue sleeves featured half-circles filled with yellow. It was open to expose her belly, and the top was bound with a white sarashi. Over all that was a long sleeveless coat of white decorated with repeating blue and yellow diamonds.

Under her other clothes, she also wore a small white and blue crop-top, which was visible in between the hems of her kosode. It was decorated with an intricately designed gold piece, and above that and upon the collar was gold embroidery depicting her emblem surrounded by spurts of flames. Weiss had learned during the … incident where Blake's identity was revealed that it was her family crest, and since then, she had learned that it was more specifically the hereditary Belladonna crest, worn by those members of the family born into it.

Upon her left arm were three bangles, one inlaid with rubies, one inlaid with sapphires, and one with intricate engravings. While her dominant right wrist sported two smooth bangles, one gold and one silver, and a titanium steel alloy chain bracelet with a single small plate decorated with her emblem on the outside and Sun's emblem on the side facing her radial artery. From her lower ears hung two anchor-shaped earrings of jeweled gold almost identical to Weiss's own, but with shorter beads dangling from them. Compassing the crown of her head with its shining black hair hanging low was a headdress made of fine gold string attached to dangling beads and diamond-shaped pieces of white reflective paper made from the local eucalyptus trees.

Finally, and most impactful to Weiss, Blake still insisted on wearing her bow. Fashion constraints meant that it couldn't be in her hair, but instead, she had tied it around her left bicep just visible out of her sleeve. She had claimed that it was the same place a Mistrali honor band would be placed, but while Weiss wasn't entirely sure about that, she did appreciate the effort while silently laughing to herself about a hundred jokes that could be made about Blake refusing to let go of the bow no matter where she went.

"Let's have a look, then, shall we?" suggested Grandma Belladonna as she slid up next to Weiss, pulling her toward her so they stood shoulder to shoulder as they gazed into the mirror.

The older woman was dressed in an ensemble that, in Weiss's humble opinion, perfectly fit her role as matriarch of the family. When she eventually reached Grandma Belladonna's age, Weiss hoped that she could be half as dignified and refined. Most of that was thanks to attitude and carriage, but the outfit had something to do with it too.

She was wearing a ball gown of stunning scarlet with a tan inner layer that hid her patent leather heels. An in-built shawl, attached above the elbow to a pair of short sleeves, stretched across her back, diving low to pass the large skirt. The shoulders were left bare, but about her neck, an incredible diamond necklace settled loosely, designed so that if her cobra hood should ever be needed, it could be freely deployed. About her right wrist, she wore two bracelets, one sporting the image of a butterfly and the other a tight bracelet of shimmering diamonds that was in fact a wristwatch whose traditional clock face was ticking away. It looked extraordinarily expensive, but Grandma Belladonna had said that it was far less expensive than it looked, and that one day, she would teach Weiss how to bargain like a Belladonna.

The large skirt of the gown was balanced out by the impressive style that her greying hair was worn in. Called osuberakashi, it was triangular in shape, rising up at the back and leaving the forehead and neck bare, save for the long ponytail that hung behind, and was topped by a gold hairpiece shaped into the tripetal of those who married into House Belladonna. The look was almost certainly chosen to allow her to fully extend the cobra hood on her neck if needed. Indeed, the hairstyle almost made her look like a cobra even without the hood.

It was, Weiss realized, an important point to remember about Menagerite fashions: they were designed to emphasize the faunus features, not hide them. Each of the Belladonna women wore something to call attention to them, be it the grandmother's hairstyle, the mother's ear chain, or the daughter's headdress. And why shouldn't they call attention to them? Why should they ever have to hide what made them special, or even beautiful? Well, in the Kingdoms of Man, that case was debated, but in the island nation of Menagerie, they were in agreement that if you had it, you should flaunt it.

And the matriarch of House Belladonna definitely had it.

"There, you see?" Grandma Belladonna said, sounding immensely satisfied. "There's our little belle of the ball."

"'Belle of the ball'?" quoted Weiss with a slightly incredulous tone. "You make this sound like it's a debut for me."

"Isn't it, though?" asked Grandma Belladonna with a very big grin. "This is the first time Menagerite high society will see you in person instead of on the video or merchandise, and I'm sure Kali is just itching to introduce you to all the young men in attendance."

"Mom!" objected Lady Belladonna in a very Blakish way as she came into view of the mirror.

Grandma Belladonna laughed and practically glided away from Weiss most gracefully. "I didn't say I disapproved."

Lady Belladonna pouted and hmpfed in a manner that hopefully wouldn't ruin her makeup as her mother-in-law moved on to another part of the room, then she looked at Weiss. "I'm not going to introduce you to anyone you don't want to, Weiss, but I do want you to have the best night ever, like a fairy tale. If that includes finding your own Prince Charming … well, I can't think of any young man around here who qualifies, but that's why he needs to be found."

"Hmm," murmured Weiss noncommittally, her gaze was drawn back to the mirror, and as she examined herself, a slight frown began to form on her face.

"Is something wrong, Weiss?" Lady Belladonna asked as she stepped on Weiss's other side.

She blinked and shook her head.

"Not … exactly," Weiss said with a soft tone. "It's just— I'm still concerned about the political ramifications. I don't want to tarnish your good name with any association with me."

Lady Belladonna put a firm and gentle hand on her shoulder, looking at her using the mirror. "Weiss, you are never to mention what I'm about to tell you to the menfolk. Do you understand?"

Weiss nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Stop talking about politics."

Instantly, Blake broke out into hysterical laughter, making the other women turn and stare at her.

"AHAHAHAHAHA— What? It's—HA!— Funny! HEHAHA!" the black-haired young woman got out between fits of laughter.

"Blake, don't wrinkle your outfit, it's expensive!" chided Grandma Belladonna as she stormed over to the laughing young lady.

Lady Belladonna giggled. "Well, it's good to know that underneath all that brooding, Blake still has a sense of humor. Still, I meant what I said, Weiss."

"That I shouldn't tell the Chieftain and his father?" asked the snowcapped girl.

"Oh yes, absolutely," Lady Belladonna assured her with a nod, keeping a smile. "But I also meant what I said about politics. This is a celebration, a party, a time to get dressed up and play princess for a night. You should be worried about finding the elusive Prince Charming, not what those scoundrels on MMM may say about you."

"Ma'am, I think by the very virtue of what I am that inviting me is a political statement in and of itself," Weiss said with an even, factual tone.

And she knew from experience: high society parties were always political.

Lady Belladonna put both hands on her shoulders then, coming in from the sides to get under the veil. "I'll tell you what that statement is then, Weiss: you belong here. Here on Menagerie, here in this house, here at this party. You belong here just as much as we do, and don't let anyone at that party tell you otherwise."

She doesn't belong here, Sienna Khan thought darkly as she stepped into the Grand Hall and spied a certain white-haired girl standing near the Belladonnas.

She was a fashionable twenty minutes late, her open-faced, wine-red veil trailing behind her as she swept in.

The Grand Hall was one of the few buildings in Kuo Kuana of notable size, dominated by the titular hall itself, a massive ballroom that stood three storeys tall. Ornate stairways at either end led up to the second floor, from which one could step out onto balconies that ringed the building, but the third floor — acoustically attuned for an orchestra — was inaccessible from within. It was where all the major celebrations were held. It was a pity that this particular little soirée was celebrating Blake's victory, rather than Gregor's, despite the steps she'd taken. Still, it was being hosted by the tournament commission, and as one of Gregor's sponsors and a notable member of the community, she had, of course, been invited. For her part, there was no point dwelling on failure.

It was time for her to take the measure of her enemy.

Jacques Schnee was a boor, with all the vices of new money and few of the virtues, but he had a sharp mind and could be dangerously charismatic if underestimated. No doubt, his daughter had inherited his cunning, her music certainly showcased her charisma, and she had managed to subvert two of Sienna's most promising disciples, after all.

By denouncing her father at the Vytal Tournament, she had made a bold power play, sacrificing the power and resources of her inheritance in exchange for an admittedly very impressive PR coup. That spoke of an aggressive strategist, one willing and able to ruthlessly cut what some might consider deep ties for a sufficient enough advantage.

Sienna could relate.

Her cousin Shere wasn't the only member of her family who she didn't talk to anymore. In fact, he was the only one left who still tried to talk to her at all.

So she waited and watched as the Schnee and her Belladonna collaborators moved throughout the room. Meanwhile, she rubbed elbows with the elite of Menagerite society. There were fewer than the last time she had attended an event like this who were willing to converse with her, and that stung at her pride and made her swear vengeance against the Schnee, but she was able to make do.

She scanned the party, trying to reacquire her prey, as she started to untangle herself from the hangers-on. She wanted to see that Schnee dead, but she had wanted that for a long time, and she could wait a little bit longer until Chrysalis got into the perfect position. Right now, realpolitik demanded that she first get Blake to take back all the awful things she had said about her and appeal to the old bonds she had with Kali and Ghira to make them see reason.

Blake was elsewhere, schmoozing with the corporatist backers of her growing prize fighting empire, while Tricky Ricky and his wife were off kissing up to other corporatist backers. That left Ghira and his wife alone. It was perfect, since it meant the Schnee was off somewhere by herself.

She idly noticed someone moving in toward Kali and Ghira. It was that lout, Bartholomew Calloway, and a group of hangers-on that had been talking with him. Sienna had never gotten along particularly well with the coffee magnate; he considered the White Fang a leech on his pocketbook, and she considered him short-sighted and greedy. Evidently, they decided that they needed to talk to the Chieftain, probably about taxes or the economy or cheap labor. Well, whatever they wanted to talk about, Sienna did not want to insert herself and have to deal with the boor.

The other members of his group were in quite the collection of colors — all of them dressed in the fashion of the new money they were, aping upper class fashion without understanding it … or the concept of subtlety — but Calloway himself was wearing a relatively understated solid white suit of a slightly older Valish style to match that southern Valish accent of his and the color of his downy duck feather hair. In his hands, he held a black walking cane topped by a silver duck's head that he probably didn't need and that almost certainly contained a terrible secret, and his eyes were a piercing blue. Unlike many others, he was wearing what he normally wore minus the hat, because he thought — erroneously — that he was always well-dressed. Gods, she hated that man, and if she didn't need his money so much, she'd probably throw him into the ocean, which she might just do after she seized control of Menagerie and nationalized his business.

"Why, Ghira, how do ya do?" he greeted them, and for once, Sienna found herself cursing all four of her sensitive ears. "And Kali, yer lookin' absolutely lovely tonight. Not that yer ever not. Heh heh heh."

"Bartholomew Calloway, now what are you doing here?" asked Ghira politely.

"Why, Ah was invited, just like ever'one else here," was the unashamed response. "Guess the fight coordinators liked the big ol' tip Ah gave 'em this season fer puttin' on such a show. Didn't see y'all's daughter winnin' the finals, though — my fault — but that was some fight all the same. I don't think words could do it justice."

"Oh, but she seems to have enjoyed herself in the end," observed one of the groupies.

That made Sienna look over to another part of the hall where Blake had decided that she could show off how she could balance the blade of Gambol Shroud on her nose and a filled wine bottle on the protruding magazine on the other end of the weapon to the the easily amazed 'ooh's and 'ah's of the crowd that had gathered around her. Right next to her, Gregor had decided to alternate between one- and two-finger push-ups, sans legs, and he was getting a crowd too. Idiots. Was she the only one there without the taste of a child? Her time among Mistral's academic elite had spoiled her.

"Blake is quite talented," Kali was saying. "We're very proud of her."

"She sure is that," Calloway agreed, "but let's not beat around the bush here, yeah? Word coming outta the other kingdoms' makin' me a mite nervous. Figgered you maht be able able ta clear things up some."

The two Belladonnas exchanged glances, and Ghira took the lead.

"While recent events have been a bit concerning," he confirmed, "all our reports assure us that the situation is under control. Vale and Atlas still stand strong."

"Yeah, that's great fer them," Calloway replied, "but what assurances can you offer me that mah beans are still gonna sell when there's cars that can turn into brigands? Ah just wanna know, Ghira, will the beans continue ta flow?"

The smile on Ghira's face turned brittle. "I've heard nothing to suggest that anyone's caffeine addiction has gone anywhere."

"Well, now, was that so hard?" Calloway asked condescendingly, reaching up habitually to tip a hat that wasn't there before awkwardly running it through the feathers he had for hair and then hooking his thumbs in his pockets.

"Oooh, now who is this?" asked one of the hangers-on. "Is this that Firebrand we've heard so much about?"

Sienna perked up slightly, all while carefully concealing it behind another drink.

"I am she," replied the Schnee weakly, submissively, not at all like a Schnee, peeking out from behind Ghira and from an opaque veil that seemed to swallow her up. Sienna hadn't even noticed her there.

Sienna was barely able to hide her shock as she turned to look at the group with her full and undivided attention.

This? This is the Schnee? This is what the bloodline that has built the company that oppresses and torments us amounts to?

She didn't believe it. She couldn't believe it. And then she understood.

Clever girl…

As she marked the surprisingly unassuming Schnee girl with it, Sienna was reminded once again how glad she was of her semblance, Grudge. Most people thought it boosted her ferocity when she attacked people low on aura — her enemies' propaganda certainly crowed about it often enough — and there was a kernel of truth to that, but the reality was that it allowed her to mark someone, and when she did, it she could sense and track them. And as their aura dropped, some of it was siphoned off to boost her own physical abilities. The latter would hopefully be of no use here, but the former? Keeping track of the Schnee girl — especially when she had obviously worked so hard to become invisible — would likely prove … informative.

"Oooh! I heard about you on the news. I didn't think we'd ever see such a well-mannered human."

"How are you adapting to the weather here?"

"How do you like the sights?"

"Is it true you've never been to the human quarter?"

"Wherever did you get such fine jewelry?"

"Is the sun ever too much for you?"

The Schnee girl seemed to crumple under the weight of attention.

"Now, now, folks," Calloway said, stepping forward and holding up a hand placatingly. "Yer givin' the poor girl a fright." He glanced at Ghira. "I'm not so sure it was wise, bringin' your pet human to a shindig like this'un 'fore she's had time ta acclimatize, skittish as she is."

Ghira growled, and Kali laid a hand on his forearm.

"Now, now, honey," she said sweetly to him before turning her attention to Calloway. "Weiss has been through an awful lot, Mister Calloway," she said coolly, "including personally fighting both Grimm and the Decepticons in the Battle of Vale. In fact, given your concerns on the subject, she's probably the closest thing to an expert we have on the subject of what sort of threat they might pose to your coffee exports.

"Calling her a pet isn't good for business."

Oh, there was steel behind that. Kali wasn't playing around.

"Mah apologies, ma'am," Calloway replied, switching gears smoothly, then turned to Weiss and reached up to touch his forehead, miming the hat tip he'd aborted earlier. "And ta you, ma'am."

"Apology accepted," the Schnee said softly.

"I think you'd better leave," Ghira said with firm finality.

They all scattered like cockroaches under the light, leaving the Belladonnas and their pet alone. Her dear old friends might not have liked that term, but that was exactly what the Schnee clearly was. She was skittish and fearful and always by their sides, like the sort of puppy that women in Atlas would put in their purses. Sienna wondered if she'd been properly spayed.

"You should have let me break his spine," growled out Ghira to his wife in the aftermath.

Sienna had to strain to hear them now, forced to position herself just right to avoid all the background noise.

"Dear, how is that you're acting more Mistrali than I am?" asked Kali in turn. "On second thought, don't think about it." Her voice dropped to a husky purr. "I like it when you get half a step from an honor duel."

The Schnee was blushing, her eyes downcast. "Thank you both, for standing up for me. You didn't have to do that."

"But we wanted to," Kali pointed out, pulling her into a hug.

"Kali, P.D.A.," her husband told her as he put one of his massive hands on the Schnee's tiny frame. "That's not very diplomatic of you."

"Oh shoo," she mocked him. "Are you all right, Weiss?"

"It's okay," the Schnee assured her. "This is hardly the first high-class social event in which I've had to deal with boors with more money than manners, though admittedly, the attention I've received is a little bit different from what I'm used to. Only half a dozen such distasteful encounters a night is a wonderful change of pace. Besides, on some level, I deserve this."

"Oh, that's … good to know, but very troubling," Kali noted, her voice strained.

"Honey, I think I see Sienna nearby," Ghira told them, his voice quiet.

"Where?!" Kali asked, her head whipping around.

But Sienna had already slinked away, deeper into the crowd.

She could wait. A tiger was nothing if not a patient hunter.

After a full minute of searching, Lady Belladonna seemed satisfied that Sienna Khan was nowhere to be found. Which was good, because there were more people coming over to see them. These people were, thankfully, much better conversationalists than Calloway, and Weiss was even able to get in a few words.

Though she was still an object of curiosity.

Was this how faunus felt at parties in Atlas? She would have to ask Lemon "Reverb" Zest next time she had the chance. Though she had a feeling that the experiences of the heir to a mid-sized mining company would be a little bit different than someone who had made themselves rather deliberately more visible like herself.

In that respect, was it so bad that she was the object of curiosity?

"…it's been so good to meet such a famous employee of Black Lotus Shipping; please give my regards to him, won't you?" asked the small weasel faunus — almost as small as Weiss — as he shook her hand vigorously.

"I'll be sure to pass them along," Weiss replied with a well-practiced fake smile.

"Thank you. Now, like an agile peacock, I'll be off," the man declared before swooping off to someone else in the party. "Ta-ta!"

Weiss decided that it depended on the type of curiosity.

With a start, she realized that her bangles were still banging, which meant that she was still shaking hands with the air. "Heh, heh," she muttered, a blush coming to her cheeks as she stopped.

"Ah, I remember the first time he shook my hand," the Chieftain reminisced foundly. "Man was a maniac back then too."

"Well, it certainly is an interesting change of pace from who's seen us so far," Weiss commented as she brought her wrist up like she had seen Lady Belladonna do so many times before. "Almost nostalgic, really."

"I'm sorry this night hasn't been as good as it could be, Weiss," Lady Belladonna lamented.

"Please, don't be; things have been fine," Weiss reassured her. Besides, I…

Weiss stifled her thinking again, unwilling to see the familiar roads it led to.

"Besides, how could this be better?" she asked instead.

"Well, you could be getting fawned over by cute boys," Lady Belladonna suggested.

The Chieftain let out a horrible stunned cough. "What? No! She's far too young for that."

Weiss looked up at him in confusion and raised her scarred eyebrow. "I'm the same age as Blake, and she has a boyfriend. Whom you like, last I checked, because you're not a stereotype."

"Of course I'm not," the Chieftain insisted. "However, I think my darling wife is being a bit optimistic. I mean, it's not like Prince Charming is just going to walk right up and—"

"Excuse me, am I interrupting anything?" a voice interjected with an accent Weiss couldn't place.

They turned to look at the new voice, and— Weiss felt her heart skip a beat at the sight of him.

The voice belonged to a man about Weiss's age with fair skin, green eyes, auburn hair and sideburns, and little freckles on his nose. He was dressed in an expertly tailored suit: navy blue trousers, black boots, a magenta cravat, blue shirt, indigo vest, black epaulets, gold aiguillette over the left shoulder, and a light gray-and-black hussar jacket. A lion tail swished emotively behind him.

What was that about "cute boys" again?

The Chieftain coughed. "Perhaps. What is it you want to talk with me about?"

"Oh, well, I suppose I'm here to congratulate you on your daughter's victory. You must be very proud," he said in a pleasing voice.

"We are," cooed Lady Belladonna with a big — and somewhat smug — smile. "That we raised such a stand up young lady is … well, a bit of a miracle, actually, but she's still the apple of our eyes."

"Thank you for your compliment," agreed Ghira. "Now, is that all?"

"No. Truthfully, I actually came over here to talk with this fair maiden," he corrected them before gently taking Weiss's hand and leaning down to kiss her ring finger. "Johann Orchard of the Apple Clan, thirteenth heir to the Southern Fleet, at your service, my lady."

How charming, she thought. Polite society in Atlas — and to be fair, most of Menagerie, judging from her experience so far — was much more cutthroat. This sort of genteel behavior abounded, of course, among those who preferred that kind of affectation, but there was a genuineness here she was unfamiliar with.

"Weiss, but everyone calls me Firebrand," she replied. "I don't have any titles to my name besides my Huntress license."

As he let go of her hand and straightened up, he laughed delightfully. "Oh, I'm just introducing myself like that on reflex. Truthfully, the accolades we earn ourselves have far more weight than any inherited title. In that regard, you've earned more praise than almost anyone in this room. Uh, no offense, sir."

"Ha! None taken. She's done far more with her life at her age than I ever did. She's a real go-getter," the Chieftain replied with a hearty smile before bringing one of his big hands onto Lady Belladonna's back. "Come now, Kali. Let's go to the food table."

"But I want to see what happens!" she hissed to her husband, even as she let herself be led away."

"Yes, but there's some words I need to eat," he informed her jovially.

Weiss giggled lightly at the sight before being drawn back to Johann.

"They really must care a lot about you," he commented with a smile. "You're really lucky."

"I am," Weiss confirmed. "They've done so much for me. I don't think I can ever pay them back for their hospitality."

"Well, you know what they say: 'it's not the goal; it's what we do to reach it,'" Johann quoted with his own smile.

Weiss's opinion of him ticked up another notch. She decided she'd like to know more about him.

"Where are you from, anyway?" she asked. "I don't recognize your accent."

"Vacuo, actually," he answered, merriment shining in those emerald pools.

"Really?" she blurted out in surprise. She'd met Vacuans — Blake's boyfriend came to mind — and they certainly didn't favor the kind of quality tailoring Johann clearly appreciated.

"Yep," he said with a nod. "Not what you were expecting, is it?

Weiss mutely shook her head, not trusting herself to speak, lest she make a bigger fool of herself.

"Well," he elaborated, "you know those islands just off the southern coast of Vacuo? My family's been in charge there since before the Great War."

"You're nobility?" she asked, tilting her head curiously.

"No," he said, shaking his head, "not really — I mean, this is Vacuo we're talking about — but we do own most of the fishing fleet in the southern isles, as well as the one dust mine that's still active there."

"I see," she said with a firm nod. And in truth, she did. After all, one didn't need official power to be effectively in charge. "So what brings you to Menagerie?"

"Lots of reasons," he said with a smile. "I've a dozen older brothers, and I always felt kind of like a fifth wheel — or thirteenth wheel, I suppose — so I decided to leave home and see the world." His gaze drifted across the ballroom "After seeing the other three kingdoms, seeing how differently humans and faunus got along there than in Vacuo, I wanted to see what things were like on the other side of the coin. So here I am."

"I hope you're finding Menagerie as lovely as I am," she said.

"On that, you can have no doubt," he assured her. "So what's it like, being a Huntress?"

"I'm sorry?" she asked, blinking in surprise at the change of topic.

"I'm curious," he said. "Huntsmen and Huntresses, we don't see them much in the southern isles, and I think I have a few distant cousins in the profession, but while I've seen many visiting the various kingdoms, I've never had a chance to speak with one."

Weiss took a moment to center her thoughts.

"I find it incredibly rewarding," she said finally. "It is hard, make no mistake, but seeing the difference you've made, the gratitude of the people you've helped, there's nothing quite so fulfilling.

"I love it, perhaps a bit too much," Weiss finished with a slight blush. "I've been made to stop before because I was working myself too hard."

He looked at her with compassion and reached out to caress her hands. "Helping people is good, but if your light goes out because it was exhausted, who would be there to guide people home?"

Weiss could definitely feel all the blood in her body rushing to her face then, and so, she dipped her head such that her veil partially obscured her features. "Someone else would take up the torch and light the way. In that regard, I am quite expendable, but … I do so hate to leave work for other people."

He let out a short laugh at that. "I'll take that as a positive. Oh! Here she is! I must introduce you."

"Who's here?" asked Weiss in confusion as the conversation swerved suddenly.

"Johann!" cried an accented feminine voice, one that was soon revealed to be a reindeer faunus with strawberry blond hair with a startling streak of platinum blond down one side, turquoise-blue eyes, a dusting of freckles, and small antlers the same color as her hair. Her outfit was very … green, a near-black sweetheart bodice with dark green off-the-shoulder straps and gold trim. Her olive drab pleated skirt was augmented by sashes of varying colors and patterns. White stockings and black ballet shoes peeked out from beneath the hem of her dress.

"Anja! My love!" Johann cried as he embraced the young woman in a hug and twirled her around happily, laughing the whole time.

Weiss could feel her heart breaking.

They came to a stop, and both turned to look at her with the most joyous expressions in the world before Johann spoke. "Weiss, I want you to meet Anja, my fiancée. Anja, this is Weiss, the new Huntress."

Weiss definitely felt her heart shatter at that.

"A pleasure to meet you," greeted Anja.

"The pleasure is mine," Weiss lied.

Weiss was … uncertain about Sienna Khan. She understood the direction the tiger faunus had led the White Fang in, the suffering the faunus had endured at the hands of humans, of the SDC, but Sienna Khan? She was a scholar, an academic. Beyond a certain point, her past was opaque, but she had taught at Mistral University, a prestigious position in a kingdom infamous for anti-faunus racism. That spoke of a privileged upbringing — or at least a very influential patron — that defined the exception that proved the rule, as the phrase had come to mean, rather than the poverty and hardship of those who had suffered in the SDC's mines or the Decepticons' energon factories.

It made Weiss wonder what made her tick, what had driven her — specifically — to lead the White Fang down that path.

Was it lost love? She certainly could believe that at that particular moment. She could believe it very much, which was why she tried to drive that from her mind.

It was lost in these thoughts — and carefully not thinking about Johann Orchard — that she made her way up the stairs and out onto one of the balconies. While the Grand Hall was well-appointed and luxurious, with as many people in it as there were, it felt crowded and hot.

She had managed to find Prince Charming like Lady Belladonna had said. Alas, it seemed her prince had a prior engagement. Maybe there would be another, or maybe he just didn't exist at all, and wouldn't that be something?

Then again… Her mind flashed back through to several men she had met throughout her life. Maybe I've got options? If any aren't already taken yet, that is.

She leaned against the balustrade, taking in the night air. She could taste the sea in the breeze that blew across the balcony from the left, even as she took in the view of Menagerie, the lights of the First Nation of Remnant flickering in the night.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Weiss started at the voice just behind her and to her left, and she glanced over as Sienna Khan stepped to the balustrade next to her.

Sienna's dress was composed of two layers. The inner layer, including the long sleeves that reached down to her wrists, was a pale coffee color, like a caramel or a particularly milky latte. Upon her sleeves, above the elbows, was gold scrollwork embroidered with flowers of various colors that made it almost look as though she were wearing armbands over the fabric. Her collar was just a little too big for her neck, and hence seemed loose — or perhaps it was intended to be loose, to give her room to breathe; Weiss's earlier judgment could easily have been the result of snobbery — while it was adorned with a golden flower, with a red stamen and blue on the inside of the petals, flanked by a pair of ochre crescents.

Above that first, creamy coffee-colored layer, the High Leader of the White Fang wore black, with an A-line overskirt covering all but a triangular section at the front, and a bodice that similarly left a triangular slit down the front to expose the gown beneath. Strings of red velvet, strung with golden beads and decorated with little flowers like buttons set in the center of the velvet strings connected the sides of the bodice across her chest. The shoulders were martial in cut and stuck out a little on either side of her, and the black was decorated with fern-like leaves of deep crimson, ending in flowers as red as blood.

A belt of gold clinched her waist tightly, with a ruby the size of a large thumb set in the buckle. From her ears — her human ones — dangled the largest and the heaviest-looking earrings Weiss had seen: three discs of gold, each bigger than the last, and each adorned with as many sapphires, rubies, and emeralds as could be fit upon the golden discs.

Sienna gripped a cup in her tattooed left hand, which was further adorned by a golden clawed haath phool, or so it appeared, for Weiss could not see the bracelet presumably concealed beneath Sienna Khan's sleeve, but what else could those delicate chains be attached to? Still, Weiss could not deny that her attention was fixed mainly upon the gilded — surely, they were not pure gold — claws that extended out past Sienna's fingertips. They seemed wickedly sharp as the moonlight glinted off them.

Like Weiss, Sienna wore a veil, although unlike Weiss, Sienna wore a cap too, a black cap with patterns of red and gold that looked like the cross-sections of dissected flowers. Her veil was unadorned by any scrollwork or decoration, just red, a much darker and deeper red than that which draped down behind Weiss's back, a bloody curtain falling down behind her, trailing after her as she walked.

"Yes," Weiss agreed, turning her attention back to the vista.

Sienna Khan might have wanted her dead, but so did the Grimm, and she killed them for fun and profit.

"As beautiful as the spires of Atlas?" Khan prompted.

Weiss considered that question.

True, she saw nothing here that would compete with the aurora borealis, which occasionally cast the floating city in a breathtaking prism of light, but on the other hand, she also saw no sign of the sterility and coldness she felt from her homeland. Kuo Kuana was less … manufactured.

"I would say so," she said finally. At Khan's scoff, she gave her a curious look and asked, "You disagree?"

"It's hard to say," Khan replied. "I grew up in Atlas, but I haven't been to the city in years. Is the aurora as stunning as I remember?"

"It is," Weiss admitted, turning to look at her. Sienna Khan was from Atlas? Interesting. "You've never been back?"

Khan shook her head and turned to meet her gaze. "Once I'd chosen my path, it turned out that my kind aren't especially welcome in Atlas. I was barely tolerated the one time I visited Mantle."

"Because you're a faunus?" Weiss guessed. "Or because you left?" Or because you're a terrorist?

"Because I chose to major in history," Khan clarified, amusement dancing in her eyes. "There isn't much respect for the soft sciences in The Shining City."

"'The Shining City'?" Weiss echoed.

"'We will build Atlas into a shining city on a hill to inspire all of Remnant,'" Khan quoted, her voice with a trace of bitterness in it as she swept her right arm through the air in a grandiose manner. She let her arm drop to her side and took a drink. "Except they weren't satisfied with that, were they? They had to go and take the whole hill with them."

Weiss considered responding, then decided against it, instead silently turning back to the party, leaning against the balustrade. She heard the balustrade creak as, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sienna taking a similar posture.

"You don't belong here, you know."

Weiss felt her hackles rise. "Excuse me?" Her voice was sharp, almost too sharp for polite society.

"You don't belong here," Khan repeated. "Menagerie is no place for a Schnee."

"I am not a Schnee!" Weiss hissed angrily, glaring at her.

The High Leader met her gaze evenly, something Weiss couldn't identify flickering in her eyes. "So you say," she acknowledged, "but in time, blood will tell, and Menagerie is no place for a helpless sheep either, much less a human."

"The Belladonnas seem to disagree," Weiss retorted, mentally clinging to Lady Belladonna's words from earlier. "Besides, I'm hardly the only human in Menagerie."

"Robbers and thieves," Khan said dismissively. Her eyes narrowed. "Unless you're making a statement about your intentions?"

"Well, no … but…" Weiss faltered, losing her momentum.

"Menagerie was a gift," Khan lectured, her voice and posture oozing with the distinction of an arrogant college professor. "A poisoned gift, yes — we should have remembered the old advice about dealing with Mistrali bearing gifts — but a gift nonetheless, a gift to the faunus. It is our refuge from the humans, behind the oceans that separate us and the army that guards us. Humans have no place here. You have no place here."

Weiss looked down, hands clenching into fists, and she felt herself trembling. She was right, after all. What right did someone like her, born into the wealth of Atlas, have to be in Menagerie, the home of those fleeing Atlesian and Mistrali oppression?

But then again … by her own admission, Sienna Khan hailed from Atlas herself, made her career in Mistral. What gave her the right? The fact that she was a faunus? Frak that! An accident of genetics did not give her or anyone else the right to drown the world in blood.

She looked up defiantly.

"Then I'll make one," she vowed. "I will not let you, of all people, define who or what I am."

For the briefest of moments, Sienna Khan looked taken aback and shocked, and in that short mote of time, Weiss dared allow herself to think that she had struck a blow. Then a smile, cold and cruel, came to the High Leader's thin lips. It reminded Weiss of another faunus, one whose very presence struck terror into her deepest heart even now, but she kept that deadly chill away with the fire the Belladonnas had encouraged her to nurture. She'd burn herself alive before she let those two Atlesian witches drag her back to that frozen hellscape.

"I see Blake has taught you a few tricks, and let you read some of the cliched tripe she calls literature too," Sienna Khan said in a tone like bemused glacial runoff. "But while you can sit up pretty and talk about how you're a big strong human, it doesn't change how you're just the Belladonna's pet. One day soon, you and every other human will remember that that's what you are, and when that happens, I'll make sure you're adopted into a family that will actually treat you as you deserve until you get too old or hurt and need to be humanely euthanized."

That fire of anger in Weiss's belly was growing ever hotter. How dare that woman! How dare she insult the hospitality and honor of the Belladonna family! She, who had done nothing but ruin everything that venerable clan had built; she, who everyday doled out misery onto those she swore to help; she, who was yet another greedy Atlesian playing the good guy while exploiting people for prestige and profit; she, who probably would have skipped across the water for a good mile had Weiss not been constrained by societal convention from socking her across the jaw! She could insult Weiss all she wanted, but implying that House Belladonna could ever have someone in it who would want to carry another person around like one of those tiny dogs who traveled in bags crossed a serious line.

"Then again," mused Sienna Khan darkly, her hand reaching out towards Weiss, "maybe you will live to be a true Huntress, a heroine that will rise above above all," — the gold of the fake claws on her brown fingers glittered in the light pouring out of the hall, and Weiss could feel their tips like tiny shards of glass skimming across her aura and within a tenth of an inch of the top of her throat — "and just like clever little Isara, it'll be when everyone can look up and see you that the strings holding you aloft will be cut."

She brought that clawed hand back, and her smile gained a mocking quality as she walked away in a swirl of crimson. "The muses are fickle creatures, Miss Schnee, and you really shouldn't be making friends with families who seek out their gaze."

With that, she finally left, the veil that looked as if it had been soaked in blood trailing behind her like a river of horrors before she finally disappeared into the party once more.

Weiss watched her go, and then with a sigh, she let out all the anger that had been boiling inside her. It felt ... well, it didn't exactly feel good, but it didn't feel so bad anymore. With that done, she turned back to look out onto the land, wishing that she knew a ninja meditation technique.

I really should learn to control my emotions better, like Blake.

A few seconds after the thought completed, Weiss realized what she had actually thought and collapsed onto the railing with an annoyed groan.

Kali Belladonna looked furtively towards the balcony, which was the seventh time in as many minutes that she had done so.

"Kali, it's okay; she can take care of herself," Ghira told her in that calming voice of his. "She just went out onto the balcony to get some air. It's fine."

The First Lady of Menagerie looked around, seeing that, for the moment, the crowd had parted around them.

"I just want her to have a good time," she said. "This should be like a fairy tale for her. If she's going outside, it's because she's not having a good enough time inside. That bean brute was bad enough with his politics, but this is clearly the work of that Vacuan boy. Of all things! What are the odds?!"

Ghira actually smiled as he looked over to where the man in question was laughing and cheering with his reindeer bride-to-be.

"Well, I'm not going to complain about that change of fortunes," remarked Ghira.

"Of course, because you're playing to a stereotype," sniped Kali.

Ghira chuckled. "Guilty. I just can't stand the idea of some man going after her." He lowered his head to be more on her level and said in a low voice, "Though, if you wanted her to have a fairy tale evening, perhaps bringing her here at this moment was not the best way to achieve that."

Kali felt her blood run cold. He was right.

She wanted Weiss to have a great time, that was absolutely true. She also wanted everyone in that room to love Weiss just as much as she did, and that was also true. The two goals weren't in contradiction. Were they?

A party like this could be a great way for Weiss to open up and have some fun. She'd be able to meet people her own age, have fun socializing, and give Kali the chance to hold true to that promise she made weeks ago and help Weiss find a nice man in Menagerie. Granted, so far, results for finding Prince Charming weren't good, but there were still men out there who would at least be fun to hang out with. Though … Weiss didn't seem like the type to have fun flirting.

And this kind of party was exactly the sort of event that would allow the people of Menagerie — especially the movers and shakers — to see just how sweet and wonderful Weiss was. Sure, there had been a few stumbling blocks here and there, but things had been going pretty smoothly on that front. If the people there accepted her, then the people outside might accept her too, and if that happened, then they might be more amenable to humans in general, and that meant…

That meant she was using Weiss as a political pawn.

Kali felt her stomach twist into a tiny knot in the hole that it had crawled into, and blast it, she deserved worse! She'd just done to Weiss what she had done to Blake so long ago, what she'd spent the last six years regretting. How could she so easily make such a terrible mistake twice? What was wrong with her?!

…well, her father-in-law would say it was because she was a politician, and at that moment, she was inclined to agree with him.

Still, it wasn't like the "have fun" plan was any better.

Then again, it wasn't like either plan was really bad either. If what Kali hoped would happen happened, that would mean that high society would have to meet Weiss eventually. It was better that they meet her here in a grand debut, decked in jewels and glory, than it was for them to see her later under less auspicious circumstances. What girl wouldn't want such an entrance?

But was that right for Weiss? Her first duty, her only duty, should be to take care of her. Everything else would follow from that.

She frowned and put a hand to her head. "Oh, full of scorpions is my mind. What have I done?"

"Nothing I wouldn't have done," admitted Ghira.

Kali stewed over those words for a moment. "Ghira, what is wrong with us?"

"Nothing I'm sure other parents wouldn't whip themselves over too," Ghira muttered. "Still, we're doing our best, and … and there's Sienna Khan. It looks like she's coming from the direction of … oh no."

She knew where her husband's gaze had gone even before her eyes finished tracking its trajectory.

Sienna Khan was walking down the stairs from the upper level. The upper level where Weiss had retreated to after talking to the Vacuan and his fiancée.

"No," Kali breathed.

"She wouldn't have hurt her," Ghira whispered firmly. "There's guards everywhere."

"You check on Weiss. I'll tell Sienna to back off. This has gone on long enough," hissed Kali.

"Don't go alone," Ghira said, clearly meaning that he himself would be going along with her.

"Don't worry, honey; Blake will be with me," replied Kali, who didn't even need to look behind her to know that Blake had appeared there.

"Need any help, Mom?" asked Blake sweetly.

"Yes, dear. We need to teach Sienna a lesson," Kali informed her daughter.

"I'm in," was Blake's instant reply.

"Be careful, you two," Ghira whispered as he watched his girls go.

Well, two of them at least. And with that thought, he turned towards the stairs himself.

He managed to slip out mostly unnoticed-ish and it only took him three tries before he found Weiss on one of the balconies, looking out over the city towards the sea from the railing.

"Hello, Weiss," Ghira greeted her.

Weiss turned away from the balcony, noticed him, and then fully turned to face him.

She curtsied towards him. "Hello, Chieftain. What are you doing here?"

He walked over and stood beside her, looking out further than she was able to, over many more trees and towards the sparkling horizon.

"I saw Sienna walking away from here," he announced. "Are you all right?"

He looked down at Weiss's small form, and she looked back up at him in turn, or at least as much as she could with her veil in the way without looking ridiculous.

"She told me I didn't belong here. I disagreed," said Weiss with a slightly proud note. "Ironically, I thought she was far more interesting before I talked to her."

Ghira chuckled. "So you're enjoying yourself?"

"Yes," Weiss said simply. "Thank you for bringing me along."

Ghira stepped back from the railing. "I should go back in before people start coming out here to talk to me. Do you want to stay out here or head back inside?"

"I think I'll stay out here for a few more minutes, if that's okay," Weiss replied. "This really is the most beautiful land in Remnant."

One last time, Ghira's eyes were drawn towards the shallow sea, and the young maiden whose eyes were drawn to it.

"I think you're right."

The mirror of the northern lady's restroom at the Grand Hall was kept very clean, as it should be, and as the rest of the restroom was. It allowed Sienna Khan to touch up both herself and her makeup with a fair amount of precision, once she had set her haath phool aside. The relative seclusion of the restroom also allowed her the chance to do what she needed to do without having to endure any interruptions.

Sienna felt a little bit of satisfaction with how she had handled the Schnee. She had gotten a number of good barbs in, and she now felt she had a better measure on who she was. The Schnee was, in simple terms, an aristocrat whose well-earned guilt drove her to become a slave.

She seemed servile enough most of the time, a weak, well-whipped drone who did whatever was asked of her, but occasionally, her aristocratic pride would shine through, and she would lash out at those who offended her or her masters. She might have been a slave, but she was a house slave and wanted people to know it. Perhaps it would be more accurate to just continue calling her a pet, though, because that's exactly what she was: a female dog who loved her new owners and would do anything to please them.

She looked deep into her own right eye as she used a brush to touch up her eyelashes.

There were a number of really snappy lines that she could use from that, which would help in the ongoing propaganda fight. She needed to win that. Things were already getting bad out there for the White Fang, though she could never admit it, and it was all the fault of Chrysalis continuing to delay and plod along with the plan to kill Blake. Still, she could stay hung up on that forever, and she would have to use what she could.

Sienna blinked her eyes after finishing with her eyelashes. On the third blink, she was alone. On the fourth, Kali Belladonna stood behind her.

Just like she hadn't gutted Kali's pet, she didn't react when the woman herself teleported behind her.

"Ah, Kali, how are you doing?" Sienna asked jovially, in the process covering up the shock at her old friend being able to do something like that. She turned around with a smile. "I've been meaning to speak to you—"

"You stay the hell away from her," Kali hissed, cutting her off.

"Feeling protective of your little human, hmm?" Sienna observed cuttingly. "You know, I thought she was a guard dog, a show of your strength and influence, but I stand corrected. She's just a caged little songbird, brought out to sing and be pretty. Much like she was back home, I'm sure."

Inwardly, Sienna smiled. Kali had gotten good at schooling her emotions when she needed to, but she knew her too well. She could tell she'd struck home with that remark.

"Menagerie is her home now," Kali declared defiantly, "and Weiss is not a pet."

"Then what is she?" Sienna needled her. "A guest? A guest is temporary, off to return home in time. She is a stranger brought into your home, one you feed and clothe and shelter for free, indefinitely, and she's not even a faunus. What is that if not a pet?"

"I'm not going to take lessons in semantics from the woman who just poisoned my daughter," hissed Kali, her eyes burning like two desert suns.

"That's a very strong accusation," Sienna pointed out confidently. "I trust you have proof before you go spreading rumors like that?"

"We both know the truth."

"That's a very broad statement, but never mind that," Sienna dismissed with a wave of her hand, which she really wished she had her claw bracelet on. "I'll cut to the chase, Kali: I want your family to retract their statements against the White Fang."

"Never," insisted Kali with a deadly seriousness that Sienna had to admit she had not heard for many years.

Had she been talking like that the whole time?

Sienna expected that to be the first reply, but still it hurt to hear. "Come now, Kali. There's no reason to insist on continuing this feud. It's only going to hurt the faunus nation as a whole. Just let it go, and we can go back to the way things were; I'll even tell people to let the human lie. We used to be best friends; doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Kali straightened up, drawing away. "Like I said, we both know the truth, and we will not retract the truth."

"We both know that truth is fluid," Sienna reminded her calmly. "It's whatever the public believes it to be."

And then Kali did something which absolutely made Sienna's blood boil: she looked on her with pity.

"No," she said with infuriating serenity. "Truth is the foundation, and you have built your house upon mud."

Kali turned and left the bathroom, through the door like a normal person, leaving Sienna alone. The door admitted a second of sound from the distant party still going, and then silence. Into that silence, the tiger faunus growled as she snapped around and started to put her claw bracelet back on.

"I'm going to have that Schnee spayed," Sienna hatefully hissed, her mind fixated on revenge for the insult she had just received.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, High Leader Khan," came the voice of Blake Belladonna from everywhere. "After all, we know where you live, and you'd never see me coming."

It was at that point where Sienna decided she had had quite enough of that party, and she wanted to leave without running into anyone on the way out.

Gregor wasn't really in the mood for a party, but appearances had to be maintained. The little show-off rematch with Blake had been good to get the blood pumping, at least. At the very least, it had gone better than his actual match against her yesterday.

It was a light soothe to his bruised ego, because at the end of the day, he had still lost. It battered his pride, wounded his spirit, trod upon his manly visage, and was generally pretty terrible. He had been humiliated by Blake in front of all of Menagerie and brought shame to the White Fang with his defeat. To think that he once loved her…

To think that he had once trusted Sienna Khan! He didn't want to believe it, but the tawny frogmouths had spoken true. The White Fang had poisoned Blake, robbing him of a fair fight, because they believed he couldn't win on his own. Ironically, it was probably what had caused him to lose, assuming that the tawny frogmouths spoke true about his opponent being a ninja.

There was no assumption about it. They told the truth, and Blake being a ninja explained too much about her. She really had changed greatly since she left Menagerie.

Sienna Khan had been there in the stands, watching; he could sense it even now, she knew! She knew, because she ordered it, because she didn't trust him to actually win.

The knowledge of this stung at him, that the High Leader, the guide to all faunuskind, didn't trust him, her most loyal follower. She thought him weak. He was roughly the size of a barge, and she thought him weak!

But … was that truly what had happened? Certainly, he knew he was no great thinker, but his little friends were simple creatures. Could they have been deceived? It was possible. He at least had to make sure, let the High Leader explain herself.

He caught sight of her making her way to the front entrance and knew what he had to do.

It was with silent swiftness then that he strode up to High Leader Khan, who saw him coming.

"High Leader, you honor us with your presence," he told her somewhat quietly but with a proper salute.

"How could I not honor our champion?" she asked rhetorically after a moment's hesitation, and Gregor bristled at the double meaning.

He had been the White Fang's champion, after all, but he had failed. He had failed, in spite of — or perhaps because of — the High Leader's efforts. He supposed that made him double the failure.

"Is there some issue?" she asked with the tone of a schoolmarm.

"Why?" he blurted out.

"Why what?" she queried.

"Why did you poison Blake?" he clarified. "I could have—"

"But you didn't," she said, cutting him off. Her expression softened. "As I told you, Gregor, we needed a victory. Too much was riding on it to depend on any single person, no matter how capable. It's … unfortunate that she managed to defy the odds. The Belladonnas are a bit too enamored with their pet human to listen to reason, and this victory will only help them and hurt the faunus."

"But—"

"Trust me, Gregor, what I did — what I do — I do for all faunus. You do your part, and I'll do mine."

There were many things he wanted to say to her, chief among them being Blake's ninja training, including extensive blind-fighting techniques. Had she not been blinded, he was sure he would have been victorious!

What he said instead was, "What if someone finds out?"

The High Leader smirked. "Finds what out? There's nothing to find out."

It suddenly clicked for Gregor that this might not have been the first time the High Leader had had someone poisoned. And likely wouldn't be the last.

That knot in his gut was getting awfully tight.

He should have seen this before, but … he really was a fool, and sadly, he didn't think his animal friends would be able to help him out of this.

"Remember, Gregor, freedom comes with a price, and we must all pay our share."

"Yes, High Leader," he acknowledged. "We'll get her next time."

"Good. I'm glad you understand things," she told him sweetly. "Now, enjoy the rest of your night, Gregor. After all, it's a party."

"Yes, High Leader," he agreed, and as she turned back to depart the Grand Hall, he himself slowly moved deeper into it.

He didn't know where he was going, and somehow, he found himself out on one of the balconies. Looking out over the sea, he was able to gaze upon several ships floating in the moonlight, peaceful and serene. It was a beautiful sight, and he wished it could last forever.

He wasn't feeling quite as boisterous as he once was, and all he could think about were the High Leader's parting words to him, an echo to a half-remembered quote.

"'Let this be the price of your freedom,'" Gregor mumbled, staring up at the shattered moon.

"'Your every drop of courage, ounce of pain, pint of blood,'" a melodic female voice continued. "'Paid in advance.'"

He turned and blinked in surprise at the deceptively angelic figure he saw standing in the middle of the balcony, halfway between him and the Grand Hall. It was her. The Schnee. Or … not-Schnee? What he'd been hearing was very confusing.

She was … stunning. She was adorned with beautiful gold and jewels upon her wrists and neck, like a petty thief. Her clothes were enticing fire above ebony smoke, like the inverted morality of humanity. That fine veil of hers concealed from the back her luscious snowy hair decorated with the beautiful flowers of nature's bounty, like an evil fairy. Her eyes were two infinite pools alight with boundless curiosity and joy set apart by a shining red gem that contrasted them with a glimmer of wisdom and maturity, like a witch.

Hate was exhausting, even when dealing with a human.

She was definitely human, though, one of the filthy stinking humans who was always keeping the faunus down. She was just a beast. There was nothing good in her whatsoever, there couldn't be.

She was also just standing there in all her finery and a pleasant smile, talking like a normal person.

"You know the quote?" he asked.

She dipped her head briefly in something that was halfway between a bow and a nod, her long braid hanging free for a moment as the veil hid her face from his bird's-eye view of her small form. "My education was focused on Atlesian history and business administration, but I've recently started brushing up on other subjects."

"Lord-General Ming was a terrible person," he said. "Cruel and driven, but honorable in his own way when he made the offer." He pressed his lips together. "Mercilessly so. Even when the faunus battalions turned on him, he ensured they would pay the price he had named for their freedom."

He dropped his head thoughtfully.

"Did you know?" she asked suddenly, accusingly.

Gregor looked upon her then and saw that those two pools had turned to cerulean steel. He knew what she was asking him. What other question could there be?

Nevertheless, she clarified, "Did you know that Blake was poisoned during her fight with you?"

A shot of anger rolled through him. "Of course I knew! Gregor is not so blind that he cannot see that someone else is, but by the time I figured it out, the fight was already in progress. I tried to call for the referee to stop the match, but that fool Blake interrupted me."

"And then she proceeded to kick your butt," the Schnee said with a note of smug satisfaction.

"Only because I was unprepared," Gregor defended himself. "I wanted an honorable fight, and that was denied to me by this trickery, but what am I supposed to do now? Contest the results of a fight that I lost by saying that my opponent was poisoned? No one would believe me, and I would be made a laughingstock."

Just like what would happen if my semblance were revealed, he thought bitterly.

Firebrand's face softened, and she looked at him with a compassion so comforting he had to remind himself that it was fake.

"I believe you, Gregor," she said. "Blake thinks you're a cretin, and a lout, and a fallacious figurehead, and a brute, and a layabout, and a harlot, and a brigand, and a fiend, and a scoundrel, and a wingnut, and a lughead, and a fool, and a cheat, and a philanderer, and a gloryhound, and a—"

"I think Gregor gets the idea," he interrupted with an annoyed growl.

"—but I don't think you're any of those things," she finally finished with a blush. "I believe you when you say you didn't know about the poisoning plot, I believe you when you say you wanted a standup fight, and I believe that if you knew a way out of this, you would take it."

His expression softened as well, and he turned away towards the shallow sea that protected Menagerie from the horrors of the deep. "And yet, I've still done nothing. I'm sure Blake would call that cowardice."

"You've talked to me; that's not exactly cowardice," she pointed out, her dainty hands resting their palms on the railing next to him. "Courage comes in small steps."

He looked down at her again, finding her looking up at him with a mirthful smile. "Why would I need courage to talk to a tiny little thing like you?"

She leaned back so that the veil was coming straight down and nearly brushing the floor of the balcony. He could see then that she was wearing sandals with a wedge heel that added several inches to her height, though they were at an angle and resting only on the narrow line between the back of the heel and the sole such that her ankles remained in line with her legs. The only thing keeping her from collapsing onto the deck in a heap were the tips of her fingers beneath her red-painted nails, hanging onto the railing.

"Because your boss doesn't like me very much," she explained cheerfully. "In fact, she wants me dead."

Suddenly, Gregor was struck by the thought of just how easy it would be to kill her. He could just reach out, grab her head, squeeze, and—

His mind stopped. It just stopped.

Gregor's head whipped back out towards the sea. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he think about doing that to her like she was a common Grimm? Wasn't that what she was no better than?

"You don't seem too bothered by that," he noted evenly.

"She wouldn't be the first," Firebrand said with what sounded like a shrug. "The Decepticons want me dead, the Grimm want me dead, my father wants me dead—"

"Your own father?!" Gregor interrupted again, this time in disbelief. "Why?!"

"Because I openly stood against him," she said, and while Gregor found his gaze brought back to her, he felt he could not look her in the eye and so looked instead on that red gem embedded in her forehead.

"That must have taken a lot of courage," he observed simply.

"It didn't feel like it at the time, but like I said, courage comes in small steps. Take enough of them, and you can really go places," she explained with a smile, and then in his peripheral vision, he saw that morph into a frown. "Not that it matters. He's still free to hurt the faunus, and he'll get away with it unless someone does something to make him pay."

Gregor was about to agree wholeheartedly with her, despite her being an evil human, but then he was struck by a thought. "That's not what the Chieftain preaches."

"I know," she admitted with shame, turning back to the sea herself and drooping her head so that the veil hid her features again. "I know, instinctively, that what he says is the right path, but all I have now is my sword. How else am I to think?"

He glanced down at his big, meaty hands and let out a heavy sigh. That comment struck a chord within him. He was no great thinker, no leader. He was a warrior, born and bred. But since his match against Blake, it seemed the war he fought was a lot more complicated than he thought. He was drowning in complications and politics like a man lost at sea.

The Schnee had to be lying about how she felt — she just had to be — but what proof did he have of it? He was sure it was there, but … since talking to the High Leader, he was a lot less sure of himself. If he asked one of his animal friends to keep an ear on her, they would probably deliver the truth to him, but he didn't want to impose. He didn't want to use them like he had been used.

That was something the Schnee beside him wouldn't have to worry about.

"Firebrand, don't sell yourself short; you have much more than just a sword," he said without thinking, without caring.

Turning away, he began to reenter the Grand Hall.

"Gregor!" the sweet voice of the Schnee called after him, drawing his attention to her and her smile. "You're a good man. Better than Blake thinks and better than you seem to think."

She was so small and yet so very earnest. She wasn't at all like he thought a Schnee would be like. She was almost … faunus.

"I don't think that it's possible to be that good," he said with a cocky smile and his standard confident tone, which didn't match at all what was going on in his head.

Weiss giggled.

He wished she wasn't human.

As she stood in the window and took in the morning sun, Weiss idly wished she wasn't human.

It wasn't a particularly complicated feeling, just a thought that if she was a faunus instead, she'd have the perfect excuse to stay in Menagerie forever. There had been some ups and downs, but those could be found everywhere, along with the people causing them. The important parts of a place, though: the environment, the work you did, and the people who actually cared about you, they were all there.

To start with, Menagerie was about as far away from Atlas as she could get — culturally, climatologically, and physically — while still being on the same planet. It was so much less sterile than what she had grown up with in the Schnee estate, with even the high society types of the island being outlandishly quirky and, more importantly to Weiss, unashamed about it. After she got around the fact that her skin could spontaneously combust in the sun, she had come to love how she could walk outside without having to worry about frostbite. And she was so far off the grid of Atlesian influence that the island didn't even have a stable CCT connection.

As a Huntress, Menagerie gave Weiss plenty of opportunities to actually make a difference in people's lives. It wasn't just that she was saving settlements; it was that she was helping push forward the frontier of life into places once thought inhospitable. And when she wasn't doing that, she could help in one of the world's largest shipping companies, bringing trade and prosperity to the world without ever having to sacrifice her ethics. It felt good to do good, and she could do much good in Menagerie.

And the Belladonna family, well, they had become closer to Weiss's heart than her birth family ever had. Her mother had been a drunkard, her father had seen his children as pawns to advance his agenda, and Whitley was growing up to follow in his footsteps. And as for Winter … she put the thought of her sister out of her mind. The less said about Winter, the better. She idly wondered if things would have been different if her grandparents were still alive, like Blake's grandparents. She didn't remember her grandfather much, but she couldn't imagine that Nicholas Schnee would have allowed what had happened in his household if he hadn't passed away so long ago.

But here, with the Belladonnas, there was a love and trust there that permeated everything and everyone. She knew that Lady Belladonna would always be there for wisdom and comfort. She knew that the Chieftain would protect her no matter what. She knew that Tricky Ricky respected her and that his wife always had cookies on hand. And Blake … honestly, she wasn't sure how to classify her relationship with Blake, though she had been told that the two acted like sisters, which was strange, because neither one of them acted like Winter or the Xiao Long disasters. Maybe the Arc swarm?

Even the household staff was more inviting. Klein — and Laberna before she'd been sent away — had been wonderfully bright spots in her childhood, but the rest of the Schnee household staff was minimal and very good at remaining out of sight when she wasn't directly venturing into their domains. In contrast, the Belladonna household staff were visible, friendly, and approachable. And of course, there was the security. Androids, after all, didn't need to be paid, so of course the Schnee household security was manned mostly by androids, in sharp contrast to the stalwart faunus who secured the Belladonna household.

If she could spend the rest of her days on Menagerie, if she could call this land her own, if the vacation she had gotten there would stretch out into infinity … perfection.

But if wishes were horses, she wouldn't need to spend so much rupiya on hiring transportation. On the other hand, she'd be spending it on feed instead.

With a stretch and a smile, she went about her day. She might have slept in after the party last night, but she still needed to go about her morning ablutions like a civilized person. There were still things to do and work to be done, and she lived for that sort of thing.

Idly, as she was putting the finishing touches on her outfit, she realized that the bindi she had been wearing the previous night was still attached. With that same idle curiosity, she reached up and picked at it. The gem came off without any effort and was soon resting in her hand.

It was strange, so very strange, but for the first time in almost a year, she actually wanted to wear something Atlesian. Except that it wasn't really Atlesian, was it? It was an heirloom of the Belladonna family, and it was a gift that they had given her the night before for what Lady Belladonna had wanted to be the best night ever.

Was it that?

Her gaze drifted to her scroll, which now had sitting in its data drive the picture she had taken of three generations of Belladonna women, all with bindis just like the one in her hand.

No, she decided, it wasn't the best night ever. There would be better nights to come. But it was closer than she had ever come before in her life so far.

The Belladonna family made her feel loved and appreciated, and she wanted to do something to show that she appreciated the gifts they had given her. How she could ever do anything to pay them back was a mystery. It seemed like an impossible task. Though perhaps actually using those gifts would be a good start, even if only for a short while.

As Weiss finished applying the bindi, she blinked as she realized that in her hand was the 48-hour blend of the MARS brand adhesive she kept with her for emergency medical use, not the 12-hour blend she had used last night.

…

Well, that certainly cuts to the chase, Weiss thought in bemusement. Maybe they're right, though. Maybe I do spend too much time in the field.

Going out into the hall, Weiss nearly resisted the urge to jump in fright when she heard Blake materialize behind her.

"Hey."

"Gurk!"

As it was, Weiss managed to keep it to a short hop and a glare as she turned around.

"Seriously, Blake? Do you have any idea what time it is?" Weiss asked hotly.

Blake shrugged. "Probably? I lost track a bit, though, when I decided to shut down my alarm. Don't tell Storm Shadow-sensei this, but I kind of wanted to sleep in for once. I mean, he probably already knows, but don't act like he does."

Weiss blinked. "What? How could he possibly know?"

"He is a ninja," explained Blake.

"That doesn't mean he can astral project into your mind or something, Blake," Weiss said in exasperation. Exasperation that quickly turned into confusion and worry when she saw Blake's expression. "He can't project himself into your mind, right?"

"I don't know," said Blake with far too much slowness.

"Maybe you should see a head doctor?" suggested Weiss with a bit of worry.

"No," Blake deadpanned.

Before the conversation could continue, the Chieftan's voice came down the hall from the direction of his study.

"Girls? Girls! Come in here! Your mother and I would like to talk to you!"

Weiss stepped to the side and gestured towards the sound. "Well, I'll see you later then."

"He said 'girls,' Weiss. That kind of implies that they want to see both of us," reasoned Blake.

"Yes, but he also said 'mother,' which implies just you," pointed out Weiss.

"Hmm," hummed Blake before activating her semblance with a sidestep. "Think he meant me and my clone?"

Weiss stared at her for a full five seconds before dropping her hands and walking along down the hall. "Right, we'll both go then. There's no way I'm dealing with this so early in the morning."

Blake and her shadow clone both looked at each other and shrugged.

Blake, sans clone, did catch up to Weiss after a short time though, and together, the two of them entered the study to find both Lady Belladonna and the Chieftain waiting for them. She was on the left side of the sofa, and he was on the right.

The Chieftain patted the couch next to him. "Weiss, please, have a seat."

Weiss felt it was to her credit that she only looked slightly nervous as she walked over and sat between two of the most powerful people on the planet not named Optimus Prime or Megatron. It helped that the two elders had very kind smiles on their faces. Blake, for her part, sat down in one of the chairs that sat on the flanks of the sofa and on either side of the table in the middle.

"Now, before we begin, we have a question to ask," probed Lady Belladonna with a slight blush. "Blake, how would you feel about having a new sister?"

Excitement shot up in Weiss's heart like a supernova, and her eyes locked on Blake, who seemed equally euphoric. A new member of House Belladonna? That was amazing news! Oh, Weiss would do her best to make sure the new addition to the family was kept safe, and she was sure that Blake would do the same for her new baby sister.

"Wait, seriously?" Blake asked. "That's great news, Mom!" Her face twisted into a frown. "But why now?" Her eyes widened. "Oh, gods, please don't tell me I ruined your love life too by running away."

Lady Belladonna stared at her daughter, and Weiss could feel the couch trembling beneath her. And was that a rumbling sound behind her? What…?

The Chieftain's booming laughter from behind her answered the half-asked question, even as Lady Belladonna shot a withering glare over Weiss's head at her husband.

"You have to admit, Kali," he wheezed, "that was a poor choice of words."

Lady Belladonna blushed red as she pouted.

Too cute!

"Just answer the question, Blake," she got out. "Consider it a hypothetical for now."

Blake was now blushing herself a bit. "Well … yeah. A sister would be great. Or a brother, I guess."

"I think that settles it, Kali," said the Chieftain with a smile that threatened to burst into laughter again at any moment.

"I think so too," Lady Belladonna confirmed.

With that said Chieftain Belladonna reached into his big jacket and brought forth a plain folder, reaching forward to place it on the coffee table in front of Weiss before flipping it open.

Weiss looked at it in confusion. What did this have to do with her?

"I know it doesn't mean much," he said, "considering you have your Huntress license already, so it's not like we'd actually have custody of you, but, Weiss, we'd like you to join our family."

Adoption papers, Weiss realized. These were adoption papers.

She looked up and at the Chieftain, then turned to look at Lady Belladonna.

"Are … are you sure?" she asked in a small voice.

"Weiss, almost since the day we met, I've known that I wanted to be your mother, to make you a part of our family and give you a home that you could truly feel welcome in," explained Lady Belladonna. "I'm sorry that this trip hasn't turned out as well as I hoped. Really, it's exposed a lot of the weaknesses in our society that I feel I was totally ignorant of, so I understand if this is something you do not want."

"But it's certainly something I want," declared the Chieftain, cutting off his wife. "Ma and Pa aren't here, but if they were, they'd say the same. They have in private, and my old man never shied away from saying in public what he's said in private."

Weiss wasn't sure what to say, wasn't sure she could even process it. She didn't know what to do. She looked at Blake.

The black-haired woman looked awed. "I … I didn't know about this, Weiss, but I still meant what I said. I would love to have a little sister, and if that sister was you, then I would be honored beyond words."

She finally had words to put to the feeling exploding throughout her body: joy.

With tears starting to stream down her face; her hand darted out to the pen clipped to the documents and began rapidly scanning through the papers and signing every single line that needed her signature.

"Yes!" she got out in a voice choked by the happiest sob she had ever experienced when she finished. "Yes! Yes, of course! Of course I want to be your daughter!"

She found herself embraced on both sides by Lady Belladonna and the Chieftain, Kali and Ghira, Mom and Dad.

"Welcome to the family, honey," said Mom, tears coming from her own eyes.

"Mama! Papa!" shouted out Weiss, mirroring what Blake had said when they had first arrived in Menagerie, home.

"Welcome home," Dad said simply, his embrace like a steady rock.

With some acrobatics and a semblance, Blake came in to engulf her from the front. "Thank you for being my sister, Weiss."

She tried her best, she really did, but the snowcapped girl could not embrace them all back; instead, she was forced to accept her position in the middle of her three new family members as all her fears and doubts were blown away.

Weiss Belladonna was finally home.

Author's Note 1 (Cyclone)

And there we go, "Homefront" finally completed with some warm and fuzzies, including some last-minute additions. This chapter was pretty up and down for me on the writing side of things; some parts were fun to write, while others were difficult to get through, as usual. People like Sienna Khan and Gregor and other members of the White Fang are just entertaining to write.

There was actually a fair-sized chunk of world-building about the Great War that I really liked that got cut because it just didn't fit, and I think the two major shout outs I stuck in there work pretty well.

Artwork once again provided by sreshtiyer, viewable on the SB, SV, and AO3 versions of this story.

Author's Note 2 (Cody MacArthur Fett)

This chapter was actually what was holding back uploading this whole arc as one chapter, specifically the descriptions, for which we needed the art. We took so long in that that … well, it's a long story, but in the end I like that we went for an arc instead of a single chapter. It was so successful in fact that the next arc will be just that, an Arc.

So one fun character moment I didn't notice until we were doing the vocal readthrough (because, as already established, these characters have a tendency not to stick to the script) is that in casual conversation with Weiss on the balcony Sienna Khan balks at the idea of Menagerie being more beautiful than Atlas. I guess she isn't as fond of the place as she claims.

Speaking of hidden feelings, I have to admit that I wasn't really sure if the last scene landed right. It just didn't seem punchy enough. All the other people in the project say it's great though, so maybe I just have too high standards? I don't know, but I hope you liked it.

Also, shout out to all the people reading this on FFN. Turns out you guys might just be the most numerous of the different segments of our readership, despite the lack of reviews. Still, I really hope you liked the descriptions of the outfits, they were really hard to write and read through, but we kept at it because you guys wouldn't be able to see the incredible artwork I commissioned for this chapter. If you search for the artist, Sreshtiyer, however, you should be able to find them.

Of course, I also wanted to include costume descriptions because I wanted to do something like what Scipio Smith sometimes does in SAPR. Heck, some of the outfit descriptions were even written by him, and you can probably tell which ones since him, me, and Cyclone often have different writing styles, especially when it comes to this. Still, it was fun to have to have this sort of chapter, and the character interactions that come from this.

Those character interactions didn't really include Blake or her grandparents, but in this case I don't think it was needed. This chapter was about Weiss and her parents, and I think that works. Just sort of assume that there were a bunch of scenes off screen where everyone got to interact with everyone else. It's just that we don't have infinite time to write, and you guys don't seem to like overly long chapters.

I think, character wise, Weiss has really turned a corner here. I think she'll be far less morose from here on out. Which is quite the change because, word count wise, she's been in a depressed state for nearly 85% of the story. Which is kind of nuts, but it does explain why she's viewed as being so mopey by all the other characters in the story.

There was definitely more I could have talked about, but I stayed up till 0230 in the morning last night because I got caught up in a conversation and now I've got a headache so I can't remember what else I wanted to talk about. I just hope you guys enjoyed the chapter.

Please remember to like, comment, and subscribe.

Next time, we follow Team JNPR as the Pride of Mistral begins their journey to their home kingdom. "You Are Cordially Invited" to join us in Part I of Interlude 3-4.

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"Greetings, Chrysalis," the voice emerged from the darkness.

The shapeshifter whirled around, her fingertips sprouting razor sharp claws. With her semblance, she was never unarmed, as more than a few had learned the hard way, taking the lesson to their graves.

"Who goes there?!"

The lights clicked on, revealing the quartet that had intruded into her temporary lair. Two humans, a panther faunus, and a bird faunus. Or so they appeared, at least.

"My name is Ravage," the panther faunus said. It was his voice that had spoken earlier. "Though in this guise, I was known as Rain Bailey, callsign Vanguard."

Yes, she'd heard of them. The treacherous Team RRFL of Atlas Academy.

"Curious," she mused aloud. "As I recall, your identities were exposed during the Battle of Vale." She gave a negligent gesture in their direction. "So why all this?"

"Our identities may be compromised," Ravage said, "but our natural appearance would still attract far more attention than these Pretender Shells would."

It made sense, she had to admit. Four Huntsmen whose true identities as Decepticons were largely known were hardly discreet, but four sapient robots would stand out even more.

"So why has your master sent you here?"

"It was decided you might need some … assistance," Ravage answered diplomatically. From Soundwave's briefing, Chrysalis was someone who required a rather particular approach. For his part, Laserbeak was perfectly willing to let him take the lead.

He had his own concerns to distract him.

"Just between us," Rumble said with a derisive snort, "Boss thinks you've been slackin', so he sent us to give you a little extra … motivation." He straightened up from where he was leaning and squared his shoulders. "Y'know, just in case you were havin' second thoughts."

Filling the gaps in Rumble's memory banks had been a chore and a half. Still was, sometimes.

"As if it were fear or laziness staying my hand? Please," she retorted dismissively. "No, the difficulty is in keeping my identity undiscovered. Despite my semblance, I have learned that it is surprisingly difficult to conceal my glory." She drew herself up and glared at Rumble. "In fact, only the face of one of the world's great leaders was able to hide my magnificence for long.

"Besides, in case you haven't noticed, everything is proceeding as I have foreseen."

They all looked at each other in shock. "What?"

"Have you not seen the news?" monologued Chrysalis. "All of Menagerie is in an uproar over the Schnee being adopted by that fool Ghira — and his little wife too! — just as planned! Now that the people are truly outraged, the stage is set for my masterstroke. I, Chrysalis, the Changeling Queen, will soon enact a plan that would stun the world with its brilliance … if anyone were clever enough to understand it. The Belladonnas will have only enough time to realize their folly before I … terminate them. Permanently. Mwahahahahaha!"

With that, she spun on her heel, her skirt flaring around her, and stalked away haughtily.

"Sheesh!" Rumble griped. "Who does she think she is? Starscream?"

Frenzy shook his head. "Where does Soundwave keep finding these chicks?"

Laserbeak couldn't find it in himself to disagree. Cinder and Chrysalis seemed of a similar type: powerful and capable, egotistical and ambitious, easy to read and manipulate. In short, exactly the sort of "local talent" Soundwave favored, people he could make dance to his tune with practiced ease, but also the sort who tended to be quite tiresome to deal with.

He wished there were less trying sorts they could work with.

A flash of warm brown eyes flickered through his image processor.

It was a pity there weren't.