Surprise, I'm alive! Busy life means precious little time for writing these days so you'll have to forgive the, er, however long this one took to come out. But it's here, finally!

Minor warning to preface the chapter as I wrote some potentially upsetting stuff. Watered it down as per usual to try avoiding making it seriously disturbing but as always I just want to tip folks off beforehand.

Cold. Always so cold despite the manor's multitude of hearths, despite the pipes carrying hot water beneath every floor. The Schnee manor had always been a frosty, unwelcoming place and it had little to do with Atlas' climate.

Plenty of places in the kingdom of the north were welcoming. A pastry chef that her family visited always made every attendance a delight. A botanical garden that, by magic or sheer tenacity alone, possibly both, thrived in the tundra, flowering plants and broad-reaching trees providing a much-needed splash of color to the white expanse. And Atlas' theater halls, so many that they could never have hoped to visit them all, always provided a momentary reprieve from the frigid household.

From even a young age Weiss had known that the Schnee manor wasn't what it should have been. A palatial structure whose lifeblood was opulence and excess, her family's not inconsiderate wealth feeding the building's insatiable hunger. Only the best furniture, the best foods, the best decorations. All of it fine, expensive, and dull.

White. Gray. A splash of blue here. A trickle of red if Jacques felt so bold.

For what should have been a grandiose, splendid home, Weiss knew only silence and boredom, feelings made manifest by watching the sullen, silent movements of the estate's many servants going about their day-to-day business.

"Sister, what's the matter?"

Warmth did exist within the manor walls however. In modicum and spurts, but Weiss knew where to find it if she so desired. Winter smiled at her and Weiss felt her face split in a broader, earnest grin, flashing a toothy smile and her two missing teeth.

"You waddle when you walk!"

Winter, ever graceful under pressure, merely raised an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"

"Like a penguin!" Weiss' laughter bubbled out and she began an exaggerated toddling, arms at her sides. As any six-year-old with a mastery of animal sounds could attest, the unseemly squawking was surely the sound of a penguin.

Her elder sister's lips twitched but she remained stoic, somehow. Weiss never did understand how anyone could be so collected in their expressions. A feat that even father struggled with, a man who liked to think himself the picture of dignity and refinement. Not that Weiss knew that; no six-year-old knew what 'dignity' means. On a pass around Winter's legs she felt the back of her white gown stretch and yelped. Her feet left the floor and Weiss allowed herself to go limp, flashing another broad smile.

"You, my dear sister, are a pest." Winter tapped her nose and chuckled when Weiss flailed. "But I suppose you are my favorite pest."

"I'm your favorite!"

"Despite my best intentions otherwise, yes, yes you are."

Preening, Weiss made no protest as she was set back down and her dress smoothed under gentle, meticulous touches. "I'm your favorite," she boasted. Standing as tall as her diminutive size allowed she placed her hands on her hips. "I'm the best."

"You're the best," Winter agreed, rolling her eyes good naturedly. She took one of Weiss' hands and tugged her along, bending over slightly to do so. "Now come along. Eliza has made fresh tarts this morning and I promised you one from the oven. If we dawdle overlong then they'll be gone before we get there."

What? Unacceptable! Impermissible. Or, as her immature mind decried, a load of doodoo. Schnees might be refined and Weiss knew how to express herself just fine when required. Proper etiquette, table manners, speaking as if she were twice her age. She had all of that down to a science thanks to incessant grinding from the tutors her mother foisted upon her. Yet with Winter she could simply be herself; a young child eager to spend time with her sibling, and enjoying being themselves. Within reason. Winter found potty humor deplorable and had little patience for messes.

The kitchens resided on the first floor of the manor, tucked away in a hall-like room past several smaller dining areas and studies. Many rooms which went unused but nonetheless maintained. Weiss always wondered why their parents insisted on having so much space and why playing in the static places was so frowned upon. As they wandered the halls, Winter's boots offering a more muted thud to the clack of Weiss' hells, she counted no less than fifteen doors that rarely opened, if ever.

Fifteen! She could use those rooms for so much more and yet they were barred from entry. Something about important people using them when they visited, of which there were plenty, granted, but they didn't need special rooms.

"Winter? May I, um, ask a question?" Nearly at the kitchens by now Weiss figured she would be too busy engorging herself in tarts to ask later, and her attention span likewise would disappear when faced with so much sugar.

"You may. Excellent manners, sister."

Beaming, Weiss shuffled her feet, then tugged at her white ponytail and huffed when Winter gently slapped her hand away. "These rooms are for special people, right?"

"Hm." Not exactly a reply and the disdain in Winter's tone flew over Weiss' head.

"So, um, special people use them, and they stay for a long time." Struggling on how to be, what was the word father used, clever? Obtuse? Weiss shook her head and gave her sister the sternest stare she could muster. "You should use one and stay!"

"Weiss, I…"

"And then you wouldn't have to go away again, and we could play more, and… And…" Weiss didn't know what else to say beyond that. All she knew was she wanted Winter to stay, one of the few beacons of warmth in the otherwise cold home. Mother couldn't always be counted on, not when she was made to answer father's every beck and call. And Klein, while nice enough, had too many duties to attend her all day.

Winter could though if she wanted! Her sister could do anything if she put her mind to it.

Fourteen years old and already one of Archbishop Ironwood's highest regarded Initiates. Exceptional in her use of runic magic, an exemplar in swordsmanship, and dedicated. It might not be incorrect to say Weiss had come to idolize her elder sibling; one day she would follow in Winter's footsteps too, showing that she was every bit as capable. They would become Hunters together, protect people from Grimm, and maybe then father would hug her and welcome her instead of being angry and distant all the time!

Winter knelt and still remained a full head taller than Weiss. Her white, twin-tailed coat ruffled, the black trim around the cuffs brushing against Weiss' shoulders as her cheeks were cupped. "Weiss, you know I love you very much, don't you? And that every time I visit is an absolute delight?"

"I'm your favorite!" Weiss reminded dutifully.

Chuckling, Winter nodded and ran a hand over Weiss' hair. "You most certainly are, little sister. And you always will be." Something flashed across the older girl's face, an emotion Weiss couldn't begin to guess at. "But I'm a very busy person right now. I have my training, and my lessons, and the Archbishop is considering sending me on my first mission soon."

The latter part of that should have had Weiss elated for her sibling. An Initiate being given a mission so early? Most didn't receive theirs until they were nearing the end of their teens, some even later. Such an accomplishment was more than worthy of praise.

Weiss couldn't get past the feeling of utter dejection to appreciate that. "So… That's a no?"

"Oh, Weiss…" With no effort Winter lifted her and cradled her, Weiss' face burying itself in the crook of her sister's neck. She felt them bob as Winter began walking again, savoring the hand running up and down her back. "I'll visit as often as I can, as much as I am able. I'll send letters whenever possible, and I promise to send presents whenever I have the chance. I'm sorry I can't be here more frequently." A truth they both knew and felt so deeply that Weiss couldn't bring herself to be angry. Well, not at Winter. "I love you very much, you know this don't you?"

A feeble nod and the grasping of small hands clinging to the fur-lined white coat. "Mhm," Weiss added as an afterthought.

"How about this then." The door to the kitchens creaked open and Weiss perked up instantly at the smells. Raspberry and vanilla, fresh baked breads and simmering meats. Her mouth began to water long before they approached the central island where dishes were being prepared and set out, breakfast nearing completion. "Let us take some food to my room and we'll dine together? We can play whatever games you wish, and before your lessons I'll read you a story, whichever you'd prefer." Winter eased her back and smiled, stroking her cheek with a gloved thumb. "Would that be acceptable?"

No, no it would not. Even Weiss could see the implicit acknowledgement that Winter would be leaving after a period of time and not likely to return for a while yet. She didn't want her sister to leave: she wanted Winter to come home and be with her again. Whitley was still too young to be of any fun and always had nursemaids fussing over him anyways. Their parents couldn't play with her, or in Jacques' case, wouldn't, and the staff seemed hesitant to.

"Mhm, 's okay," Weiss mumbled. A lie neither of them bought, but Winter acknowledged with a nod all the same.

"Splendid. Eliza? Some tarts, if you would be so kind. And a pitcher of milk, so that my little sister might grow taller some day."

"I'm not widdle," Weiss pouted, smacking her hand uselessly on Winter's shoulder.

"Oh? But you only come up to my knee, dear sister."

Liar, she was taller than that now! Not much, but she was! "Don't like milk."

"But you want to be taller," Winter chided, smiling triumphantly.

Okay, yes, but she wanted to be taller without having to drink milk. Yet for all her protests they were still given a chilled pitcher and two glasses, a tray that Winter balanced in one hand and, unfortunately, meant Weiss had to walk under her own power. Not that she minded though; big girls walked and she was a big girl like Winter, or would be soon enough. She'd be tall, and a Hunter, and then they wouldn't have to be apart again!

And then the stairs to the second floor reminded her of her own youth. Taking each step one at a time she managed, somehow, to clamber up, relying on the banner for support and Winter's trouser's leg more than once.

They walked along long halls cut from white stone, footfalls muted by lush gray and blue carpets, traveling in a comfortable silence. Simply being with her sister made Weiss feel better, even with the dawning, inevitable separation between them. She would be upset, she knew, and she'd miss Winter, but her sister would inevitably return. She always did, sometimes sooner rather than later, and they would have a few days to themselves.

Next time Winter visited perhaps they could go into the city proper. Shop for a new dress, or a new toy, or just walk together. Anything would be fine so long as they were together!

Perhaps, if fortune were on her side, she could even visit Winter at the Grand Cathedral. While not typically open to the public, Weiss liked to think family would be an exception. Ironwood knew her too, adored her, really, and would be glad to have her visit them! She could ask… No, not her parents, but she could ask Winter, or ask a servant to send a letter to the Archbishop on her behalf, and then surely she would be allowed to go.

Shattering glass put an end to her scheming and Weiss nearly screamed in surprise. She'd thought Winter had dropped a glass; perfect, careful Winter who moved with so much grace, but she noticed both glasses remained on the tray still. And Winter seemed to be staring not at the tray or Weiss but the door ahead of them.

Father's study, Weiss realized, blanching at the prospect of encountering him. Then cringing as another glass shattered, accompanied seconds later by Jacques' voice exploding from behind the closed doors.

"She is not staying here and that is final, Willow!"

'She?' Weiss' eyes widened and she latched onto Winter's leg. Refused to release her as her sister set the tray and pitcher down and tried to lift her up. No, she wouldn't let father send her sister away. She would fight and scream if she had to!

"Jacques, you have no right to -"

"No right?! I am the head of this household, lest I remind you! I have every right! And furthermore, you have no right," he shouted back mockingly," To lecture me on the matter! It is your infidelity that has caused this problem in the first place!"

Infe… What? Weiss wracked her brain for a definition of the word. What did that mean? And why were mother and father fighting about it? About Winter? She loosened her grip and allowed Winter to lift her, gasping as she was held unexpectedly tightly to her sister's trembling chest.

"Winter…?"

"It's okay, Weiss," Winter whispered. Before Weiss could ask what Winter might have done to earn father's ire she felt dampness land on her head, lifting her eyes and staring at the tears spilling out of her stoic sister's mirrored blues.

"W-Winter?" she asked again.

"I am through having that thing sullying our good name! I have humored her existence long enough. But the repeated rumors, the questions, the remarks I've had to endure because of its presence!"

"She is our daughter, Jacques!"

"That thing is not my child, you bloody whore!" Another glass shattered and Willow cried out. Winter's breath hitched and Weiss felt herself curling up, pressing into her sister as hands tried and failed to clamp over her ears to stop the noises. "Make your peace with it tonight and have the servants prepare bags for departure. I don't care if it goes to an orphanage or the streets, I want it out of my house by tomorrow!"

Winter's heart thudded in her ears. Or was that her own? Weiss felt herself trembling in tandem, barely registering the slow, unsteady stroking of her hair as she remained pressed into Winter's chest.

She hated when mother and father fought. Hated the screaming, the tears, and how cold the dinners would feel afterwards. More than anything though Weiss hated how awful father was to Winter. Not his daughter? Kicking Winter out of the house? Ignoring the obvious fact that Winter no longer lived with them it still felt horribly cruel. Her sister had done nothing but bring honor to their family!

If Weiss could find it in herself then she would argue back with father. Tell him he was being awful and needed to apologize, both to Winter and then her mother.

The study doors swung open hard enough to slam against the walls, shattering a vase beside one. Willow ran out, one cheek red and tears running down her face. When she noticed them the woman froze, released a choked sob, and ran over. Weiss soon found herself held between two women and her hair damp as tears soaked it, feeling her own coming free soon after.

Father was being so unfair! Winter didn't deserve any of this and neither did mother.

"Willow?! I didn't say we were through!" Jacques stormed out of the room and looked every bit as red as a tomato. Veins throbbed in his forehead and his normally kempt hair had become ruffled, his white tailored suit wrinkled and out of sorts as the rest of him. "You…"

"Father, please!" Winter begged. Weiss had never heard her sister sound so broken or desperate before. "Reconsider this. I'll see to it myself that she -"

"I've heard enough! I will not tolerate a stain on our family like this, do you understand me? I did not invest thirty years of my godsdamned life into helping bring the Schnee family back to prominence only to have my efforts tarnished by some… Some… Bastard!"

"Jacques, stop! Not in front of the girls!"

"That is not my daughter!" Jacques roared. A servant at the far end of the hall found somewhere else to be and Weiss felt Winter's arms tighten around her. "That thing is not our child, it will not carry our name, and I will sooner sell my soul to the hells than allow filth to walk these halls!"

Willow stepped away from them and stormed towards Jacques. "Shut your mouth! She is our child and you will not speak of her like that! I -"

Weiss let out a shrill squeal hearing the meaty slap, shrinking back watching Willow stumble into the wall. Her mother clutched her face and had gone silent, back trembling as she glared at father. Hitting was bad, always bad. She had been told at a young age that you never hit anyone out of anger, that it was poor manners and deserved to be punished.

But how did you punish the person in charge?

"We will discuss this more at a later date, Willow, since you seem so adamant about maintaining a facade of civility." Jacques wiped his palm on his jacket and his eyes finally settled on Weiss. Red colored his face again and he squared his shoulders, wrinkling his nose. "I want that thing out of my house tonight, Winter. Deliver it to whatever place might take it, I don't care. Otherwise, I will have it disposed of."

Weiss didn't so much as breathe as she met her father's stare, as her brain put two and two together. Winter continued to hold her well after Jacques stormed down the hall and out of sight. Willow, inconsolable, joined them in Winter's room where the two women spoke through choked sobs, fussing over Weiss as they prepared whatever meager luggage they could for her. All while Weiss sat in silence, unable to so much as shed a tear as she processed the argument, what it had all meant. The way her father had looked at her in those final moments.

They never did go back for those tarts.

/+/+/+/+/+/

The ocean smelled terrible.

Or perhaps the mass of sweaty, unkempt sailors toiling about the docks smelled dreadful. Maybe it was the fish market nearby, saltwater-logged carcasses on display like some macabre trophies to be sold later for consumption. With a line of thought like that Weiss considered it a miracle she hadn't become a vegetarian.

It would get no better from thereon out either. To cross the ocean between Atlas and Vale meant at least a week at sea. Two if the weather were poor. Longer if they somehow became shipwrecked. Weiss liked to think that Ironwood's flagship could withstand anything that nature, gods or not, could throw at them. A hulking vessel with twin Dust-fueled engines and four towering masts, it boasted more power than any other craft in the bay, its metal hull capable of withstanding repeated cannon fire. Not that she expected any pirate to be so foolhardy as to fire upon an Archbishop; heresy notwithstanding it seemed like a surefire way to earn a watery grave.

A grave that she could find herself in too in the event of a disaster. Shivering, Weiss hugged her fur-lined cloak tighter around herself, lowering her head as another frigid wind wove its way along the waterfront.

Waiting for Ironwood to arrive had left her with little to do but people watch and count the minutes. Then the hours. Long enough that her wool-lined jacket and gloves had begun to fail at keeping her warm and more than once she'd huddled alongside sailors by burning barrels, or wandered towards one of the cavernous forges where a dragon's breath spilled from the gaping maw of the building, flooding the chilly streets with delicious warmth and keeping snow and ice at bay.

When Ironwood at long last deigned to grace her with his presence Weiss had begun considering throwing herself into one of the barrels. Yes, it would be painful, and yes, it was a terribly, ill-advised, most certainly dangerous plan. But she was cold, and Ironwood was late.

And, unsurprisingly, three hours of standing in wintry winds had done little to lift her mood.

A mood that did little to change as Atlas' own Archbishop approached with an apologetic smile and a steaming mug held out to her. "Apologies, Weiss. My meetings ran a little longer than anticipated. Soup?"

Weiss took one look at the pink face of the man who had, for all intents and purposes, taken over as her father these past seven years. Debated calling him a myriad of both deserved and undeserved words for his tardiness, then took the proffered mug and sipped at it.

"You're late," she mumbled breathily, sighing as warmth began to seep through her.

"Yes, and I'm terribly sorry for it. Although, it is only half an hour past our due meeting." Ironwood paused and took note of her shivering, frowned, and placed a hand on her hood-covered head. "How long have you been waiting for me, exactly?"

"Not long." Weiss shivered again and turned her head to sneeze. "An hour… Perhaps two. Or three."

"Weiss, we were to meet here at nine. You mean to tell me you arrived at six in the morning?"

The soup tasted lovely, if a bit too salty for her liking. The meat was perfectly tender, the vegetables not too earthy. She didn't look long enough at what either was as she sipped away at the delightful concoction.

"Come, let's get you on the ship before you catch a cold." She sneezed again and Ironwood sighed, placing a hand on her back to lead her along. "Or before it gets worse."

"You don't catch a cold from being cold, sir."

"No," he admitted with an amused hum. "But you do get sick from your body's immune system becoming vulnerable. By being cold. So, let's get you inside, preferably before we spend the ride to Vale tending to a fever."

Yes, because that would be the most dreadful thing in the world. Weiss hoped she didn't have a penchant for seasickness. Not that there was much to do about it now, not with their ship prepared to depart whenever Ironwood arrived, which would be now.

Which meant formally leaving Atlas for good, abandoning any chance of reconciling with her family, reducing the chances of seeing Winter again to nil, and venturing into alien territory. Short of the gangplank she stopped and turned back to the city she stood to leave for the last time. Stared out at the spires of grey and white, the high arched, towering buildings with buttresses and statues adorning most rooftops, the winding cobbled roads that Weiss had spent precious little time exploring despite her years among them.

In that regard she supposed it wouldn't be all that different, going to Vale. One unfamiliar city for another.

"Weiss?" Ironwood nudged her elbow. "Something the matter?"

Yes, everything was wrong. "No, sir, I'm fine."

Feeling hands gripping her shoulders she looked reluctantly as Ironwood lowered himself to her level. "Weiss, if you don't want to go through with this then we can turn back, you know. I'm certain Ozpin will understand."

"And will father accept me if I decide to stay here?"

Rhetorical question, one which Ironwood decided to answer anyways. "He doesn't matter, Weiss. People who do not value you should not warrant even a moment's thought."

"He's my father," she pointed out quietly, slapping herself mentally for the look of hurt across Ironwood's face. "My first father," Weiss amended, poorly. "You've been nothing but wonderful, sir, and… I'll always appreciate all you've done for me, and continue to do for me."

"But I'm not the same thing."

"Please, don't misunderstand." Weiss shrugged off the hands on her shoulders and stepped into a hug. Barely able to get her arms around Ironwood's broad figure she laid her head against his chest. Choking back emotion she closed her eyes, shaking her head numbly. "I just… What else can I do to earn his approval? And everyone else's? Why is it that my efforts don't pay off?"

"Weiss, I want you to listen to me, okay? You'll never please everyone in life. Some people will hate you because of an idea or a misconception. Some people will hate you because of what you stand for, or how you present yourself." Ironwood took a knee before her and rubbed his hands along her arms. "Gods know plenty of people have called for my head over the years. And you know what I do in reply?"

"Smite them with your brilliance?" Weiss jested, smiling weakly.

"If it were that easy then I'd not have as many complaints on my desk as I do!" Laughing, Ironwood shook his head. "I persevere. Oh, don't give me that sour face. If I continue to do things my way and excel then it doesn't matter how many people dislike me, or how many call me a sham, or… What they call you. Other people don't define your worth, Weiss: you do. And no one can take that from you."

"But… He's my father, sir."

"He's your father, yes, but he's not your dad." Ironwood seemed just as confused as Weiss felt at that attempted distinction. "What I mean to say is just because someone was there at your birth does not mean they're necessarily your family. Sometimes, your family is the one you make for yourself, by blood or otherwise."

"Well, I suppose…" And the reality of the matter was Jacques wasn't her proper father. Her actual biological father Weiss had never met. Never heard much beyond vague whispers and acknowledgements that at some point in time the man had existed. That still didn't dampen the hurt though, knowing that the man who she had perceived as her father wanted nothing to do with her.

But Ironwood's point of view did help a little.

"Not to discount your feelings or anything but perhaps we could continue this discussion inside the ship?" A howling wind ripped across the gangplank and both of them gasped, lowering their heads and shielding from the frost. "As much as we both adore Atlas' winters…"

"We can enjoy them from warmer comforts," Weiss concluded, smiling slightly. "Of course. Sorry, sir."

With a helping hand they made their way up the gangplank, passing by deckhands as they hurried to unsecure the mooring and prepare for departure. To head to warmer climes and, Weiss dared to hope, somewhere that she might feel like she actually belonged. Somewhere that people wouldn't know her as "the bastard of the Schnees" and simply as Weiss, a girl yearning to, well, she wasn't sure yet. Between wanting Jacques' approval and not, wanting to remain and Atlas and leave it, she didn't know what it was she still sought. All she could hope was a change of scenery might help provide an answer.

"We'll be departing shortly, so let's get inside where we can enjoy our drinks in peace, hm?" Ironwood opened the door to the cabin for her and Weiss nearly collapsed into the warmth that ebbed out. Comforting air caressed her cheeks and she swayed on her feet as she moved towards one of the two beds, dropping her bag and herself onto the mattress. "It will take us roughly ten days to arrive in Vale, I do hope you're ready for a long journey."

"Ten days?" Weiss sat on the bed's edge and smiled. "I thought this was a fast ship, sir?"

"A normal craft would take twice as long, and require double the crew. This is the fast ship." Chuckling, Ironwood traipsed to his own bed, twice the size of Weiss' and still buckling as he sat on it. Leather straps came undone with a click and he began removing his fur-lined boots. "I'm going to catch up on some sleep. Feel free to explore the ship in the meantime; the crew will be happy to accommodate you."

Because they didn't care who she was, or because she was Ironwood's ward? Weiss felt she knew the answer and hid her disdain behind a smile. "I just might. Thank you, sir."

Maybe if she faked enthusiasm she would actually start looking forward to the trip. As the boat lurched beneath them and she heard gears grind beneath their feet Weiss knew it had become too late to reconsider. Not that she had much in Atlas to remain for.

But perhaps she had something to look forward to in Vale. One could dream.

/+/+/+/+/+/

Archbishop Ozpin was, by all metrics, remarkably plain. Compared to Ironwood who stood broad as an oak and tall as one too, Ozpin seemed indistinct. Older, his hair gone fully white, although his face showed little signs of his apparent age. Unassuming in his green sweater, a black scarf draped over his shoulders, the man behind the desk looked more to be someone's droll uncle visiting for a family celebration than the head of Vale's branch of the Church of Remnant. Or perhaps that was her over-familiarity with Ironwood allowing her to make such impertinent observations; Ozpin was not the Archbishop because he looked more prepared to fall asleep in an armchair than lead a band of talented Magi. Weiss bade her traitorous mind to calm and stop making remarks about the man welcoming her to his doors before her mouth moronically gave voice to her thoughts.

In her defense it was easy for her mind to wander.

She had, perhaps begrudgingly, looked forward to meeting Ozpin. To make acquaintance of the man she would be serving under, the people who would teach her to be a proper Hunter and, she hoped, a man whom she could confide in if need be.

All fine and dandy things lost in the drudgery of introductions, talking points she'd practiced dozens of times with Ironwood, and the lethargic prattling of a man who perhaps needed someone to speak with. Despite her proximity to the Archbishop, Weiss suspected that Glynda Goodwitch had little patience for Ozpin's… Anything. Between the woman's permanent scowl since her arrival and the impatient tapping of her foot Weiss wondered if the woman had patience for anything at all.

"... And of course you shall be remunerated for all of your exercises forthwith. Your time as an Initiate includes a modest stipend, although you will be expected to repay some of your room and board, as well as a minor fee for upkeep of whatever weapon you so choose to train with. Additionally, while we cannot allow you to receive payment for any jobs you take as a Hunter, rest assured that the Church awards all of its members for services rendered at the time of completion. It is imperative that we remain neutral to any parties seeking our assistance, after all."

Tick. Tick. Tick. One hour and twelve minutes and eighteen… Nineteen seconds. The meeting with Ozpin was allegedly only going to take half an hour. Forty-five minutes tops. Now Weiss wasn't sure if she would make it out of the Archbishop's office alive. Her eyes wandered back to the clock and she furrowed her brow. An hour and six minutes? Great, she'd been sitting there for so long that she'd lost her ability to read a clock. Maybe she needed to look at something else.

No, not Goodwitch. The woman's face remained pinched as she stared hole in the floor at her feet, eyes flickering to Ozpin now and again. How the man didn't feel the sheer malice or take a hint befuddled her.

Oh hells, the woman was looking at her now! Weiss decided the embroidered emerald curtains behind Ozpin looked fascinating. Except not paying attention to the Archbishop earned a jarringly loud throat clearing from Goodwitch.

"Hm?" Ozpin looked up from his paper, what Weiss could only presume was a prepared speech that he'd been feeding her. "Is something the matter, Glynda?"

"No, sir. My throat is merely dry, I should think some refreshments are in order."

"Ah, I'm nearly done. Surely we can last another moment or two?"

Weiss sagged in relief. Goodwitch looked ready to throw her superior out of the tower's window. The woman loosed a loud sigh and nodded, taking to pacing along the rows of bookshelves and studying the spines.

"Now, where was I? Ah yes. On a final note, as a Hunter you will be expected to provide your service to the kingdom of your residence. However, you are free to work wherever you should please, provided your obligations allow for it. Moreover, whichever kingdom you choose to ply your trade in will accept you without question provided you have a means of identifying yourself, which we will provide in the form of the Hunter's Mark. You are familiar with that, yes?"

"Yes sir!" Weiss rasped. Mortified, she coughed into her fist, cheeks heated, and nodded. "Yes, I'm aware of the mark. All Initiate's receive one upon completion of their tests, correct?"

"My, aren't you well studied?" Was he teasing her or mocking her? "I see that James spared no expense in preparing you for this meeting."

"Ozpin, she's twelve, not six. She probably already knows half of what you've told her." Goodwitch frowned. "Which means this meeting could have been drastically cut short, by the way."

"I like to be thorough in my orientations, Glynda. Is there something wrong with that?"

"Beyond you, the Archbishop of Vale, giving a solitary Initiate a personal orientation?"

Laughing, Ozpin waved the not-so-thinly-veiled accusation away. "She is a personal pupil of James and thusly did I decide she required the proper attention. We can't just lump her in with all the other Initiates, not when she's so promising." Weiss felt her heats cheek and lowered her head when Ozpin smiled at her. "We expect great things from you, Weiss. And as a parting sentiment, may I say how happy I am to have you here in Vale. I do hope you find your time here with us pleasant."

"Th-thank you, sir."

"If every conversation you have with her takes this long I doubt we'll ever have time to properly train her," Goodwitch grumbled.

Ozpin answered with a loud, obnoxious sip of his mug, one that made Weiss giggle and his second tremble, vein popping in her temple. "If I did not want for more pleasant conversations, dear Glynda, maybe I would feel more inclined to hasten the process."

"Or, and I may be off the mark, sir," she used 'sir' in the most sarcastic way Weiss had ever heard, "You're putting off the stack of mission reports, Initiate applications, requests and complaints in favor of talking a young girl's ear off."

"I have never been so thoroughly insulted and, dare I say, hurt by such baseless accusations."

Ozpin turned out to not be at all what Weiss had expected. Plain, playful, and to Weiss' delight, open and approachable. And his teasing of his second left her straining not to laugh outright, although choked whistles of air passing her lips might have been laughter breaking free. Ironwood had stressed the importance of politeness with Archbishop Ozpin and Weiss made certain to retain that. Even as she watched the man before her waggle his eyebrows, no doubt smiling behind his mug as he watched Glynda's hands choke empty air.

She doubted Ozpin behaved in such a way in all instances; no one would respect a man who seemed so lackadaisical and overly friendly. But Weiss suspected the effort had been made to help ease her nerves and, along with the overlong introduction, the small touches of humor had succeeded.

"Splendid, I believe that covers everything. You were given the tour by Glynda earlier, yes? Feel free to return to your quarters and rest, Weiss. Dinner will be in an hour or two, so take some time to yourself if you'd like. Or feel free to explore, if you're so inclined. Most of the cathedral's doors are open to Initiates, and all of our instructors and clergy alike are happy to assist you with anything you might need."

"I think I'll look around. Thank you again, sir. A-And Miss Goodwitch. I look forward to working with you both."

"You say that now," Ozpin chuckled, "But just wait. I find that many Initiates change their tune after enduring Glynda's drills."

"Sir, if I may be so bold? Get to work before I pour that mug on your head."

Weiss took that as a cue to rise from her seat and excuse herself. Smoothing out the white gown she'd been given she bowed deeply, making sure to follow the etiquette Ironwood had drilled into her head. The gesture went wholly unnoticed as Archbishop and - she wasn't really sure what Goodwitch's rank was, actually, maybe babysitter. Whatever the woman was she had no qualms in flaying the Archbishop verbally, uncaring of the presence of the young girl in the room.

Deciding she didn't want to witness a murder, Weiss promptly turned on her heel and marched out of the tower. Into the lift and, once the iron gate closed, down to the cathedral's main lobby. Unfamiliar with any of the clergy present she offered shy smiles in exchange for warm greetings, keeping her head low as she hurried from the hall.

Although she had received a tour earlier she still remained uncertain about the layout of the place. The residential quarters lay in the western quadrant of the Grand Cathedral grounds. Or was it the east? She could find the training halls opposite of them if she wished to train. With the weapon she didn't have. Normally, the family of Initiates would purchase a weapon for their child to train with or, if they didn't have enough money, could enlist one of the Church's blacksmiths to have one forged at a highly reduced rate. Weiss herself wouldn't have a weapon to speak of until one of those smiths completed the order given by Ozpin earlier, which meant the training hall would be a moot point.

So she could go somewhere. Anywhere on the grounds. And do.. What? Wander? She didn't know anyone, had nowhere she needed to be. Frowning at the blue, cloudless sky above her Weiss plucked at her sleeve anxiously.

On some level she knew she should be happy to be in Vale. A fresh start and a chance to be something. Here, no one would judge her as a bastard child, and as Hunter she would earn respect. Here, after years of work and diligent study, maybe she would become someone that her family would acknowledge. Ironwood had suggested as much; become so accomplished that even Jacques would have no choice but to recognize her. And even if Weiss wasn't sure if she wanted that man's respect. But if she could see her mother again? Or Winter?

That would make all of this worthwhile. Any hardship she might endure while training and as a Hunter would be fine if she could see those she cared about once more, head held high.

A shame that the loneliness consuming her made all of that seem not just improbable but impossible. She would sooner sprout wings and fly than accomplish any of that.

And who did she have to turn to? Ironwood returned to Atlas after three days with her in Vale. Ozpin seemed kindly enough but he was the Archbishop; the entire kingdom demanded his attention and spending time with a sorry little girl was something he didn't have time for.

Vale was so much different than Atlas. Sunlight that actually felt pleasantly warm. The smell of pine and flowers on the wind as opposed to frozen earth, overly washed stone, and the oppressive scent of mint. Buildings of wood and stone instead of brick and marble. Four actual seasons, although Weiss couldn't fathom what summer and autumn were still. Moreover, people in the didn't look at her like she carried some kind of plague. Here, she was just a face in the crowd. A nobody.

A nobody with nobody to seek company in. Or comfort.

Clutching her gown tighter, Weiss wondered if it would be untoward to return to the tower. She could fabricate some excuse as to why she had gone back. Directions to her quarters wouldn't be a complete lie. Or maybe she could ask about her lessons, even if they weren't slated to begin for nearly a month. Surely she could come up with something.

An excitable squeal made her jump. A body slamming into her own sent her sprawling out in the grass, groaning as the offending mass squirmed and flailed. A hand struck her cheek and a squeaky, hurried apology vaguely reached her ringing ears.

Okay, so Vale was exactly the same as Atlas. People were assaulting her, no doubt for her ears. On instinct Weiss covered her head in her arms and, unable to curl up, took a deep breath and readied herself for the first hit.

"Oh my gods, are you alright!?"

A different, slightly less squeaky voice made her arms lower a modicum, frowning as peered between them. A girl with fiery red hair looked down at her anxiously, half-bent and arms outstretched, as though unsure whether to help extricate the writhing mass atop her or not. Emerald eyes darted between them, lips working to form an awkward smile.

"Ruby, you were supposed to tag Pyrrha!" another girl called, followed by bubbling laughter. Weiss didn't so much as glimpse an offensively pink gown that assaulted her vision. The writhing girl disappeared in a flash and continued to squirm in a new embrace. "Well, I got you now, so you're double it!"

"Nora, I'm not exactly sure that's how that works," Red said.

"What? Of course it is! And if she tags the wrong person then that makes her triply it! Learn your rules of tag, Pyrrha! I thought you were the smart one!"

"I… Gods give me strength."

Weiss thought she had begun wheezing. Oh no, did she break a rib? A quick pat down and a short breath confirmed she wasn't that badly hurt, nothing beyond her pride. Accepting a hand from Red, she eyed the two boys rushing towards them, a blonde looking on the verge of death, a darker-haired boy patiently minding his companion. She wasn't the source of the ragged breathing, thankfully, and she winced as Blonde and Lanky promptly toppled over and sprawled out in the lawn.

"Nora, let me go! I need to apologize!" The spastic girl, Ruby, pried herself free and stumbled forward. With all the grace of a hobbled steed she smoothed out her dusty black skirt and flashed an awkward smile. "Um, hi! I'm, uh, sorry for almost running into you!"

"You did run into her," Red corrected.

"R-Right. Sorry for running into you! But we're playing tag and, you know, sometimes you just go really fast and you're not paying attention. I could go even faster if I used my magic but no, that's not allowed, because everyone else wouldn't be able to keep up!" Weiss tried to get a word in and Ruby whirled around, throwing her arms up. "But it's fine when Pyrrha uses her magic to stop us, or when Ren uses his to avoid getting tagged!"

Ren, who Weiss assumed to be the boy not currently heaving - gods save her, held his hands up. "I use my magic to avoid Nora crushing me. As for Pyrrha, she uses it to avoid what we just witnessed."

"Part of the game, Renny! Play hard or don't play at all!"

"I'm terribly sorry about them," Pyrrha said, offering a contrite smile and bowing her head. "I hope you're uninjured?"

Wait, someone was showing genuine concern for her? More than one person? Weiss' eyes darted between the expectant faces now staring at her, feeling herself shrink as her hands clutched against her chest. This had to be a joke in the making. Fake worry then tease her for buying into it. She refused to fall for it then; she'd been burned more than enough thinking anyone gave a damn about her. Anyone besides Ironwood and her new mentors.

"I'm fine." Curt, simple and, she hoped, enough to indicate she wanted no further part of this matter.

"I really am sorry! I'm usually not so clumsy but, well, sometimes Nora likes you zap you a bit after she catches you and it doesn't really hurt, she never hurts us -"

"Speak for yourself," Blonde and Lanky groaned, finally managing to rise to their feet.

"Okay, sometimes she hurts us, although it's not on purpose, and it's mostly Jaune," Ruby amended, shaking her head before offering Weiss her hand and a smile. "But I didn't mean it, a-and dad always tells me that I need to be friendly with people, and I sort of… Messed that up by running into you, so let's start over! Hi, I'm Ruby Rose, want to be friends?"

Any questions about the situation being a joke or not were answered with that sentence. Of course, this was a joke; Ruby didn't want to be her friend. Weiss would take her hand and she'd be pulled over, or the hand would be pulled away and she'd be made to look like a fool. They would laugh and call her a bastard, or impure, or a freak. And as always, she'd endure it, remain on the ground until they left and then skulk back to Iron- To her quarters. Alone. As she always would be.

Except she needed to be polite, didn't she? Ironwood had stressed that. If people in Vale didn't know her then she could make a fresh start, and she'd never get anywhere if she didn't give people the benefit of the doubt.

Still, experience told her to expect anything but kindness and Weiss kept her hands to her chest, staring down at Ruby's proffered hand. "I, um, I don't…"

Did she take it? Would it matter even if she didn't? Considering these kids were on Church grounds they had to be Initiates too, and close to her age if she had to guess. Maybe she needed to try and befriend them; it would make her years of training far more pleasant, she thought. So long as the offer was a genuine one, which she still doubted.

"You never did take her hand that day, did you?"

Unlike Ruby's shrill cry moments before, the cold voice froze her to the bone. Except Weiss found she couldn't so much as turn towards it either, her entire body turned to ice on the spot. Hairs stood on end as she felt breath on the nape of her neck, and in her peripherals, she watched a pair of white, black-veined hands slide around her shoulders, one cupping her chin as the other stroked her hair back.

"What a poor, lonely little girl you are. Dreaming of such somber things even with your friends so close." The ghastly white hands had a face, and if Weiss could manage to scream, she'd have done so. Eyes black as coals raked over her and a monster wearing a woman's face slid past her soundlessly, her hand drifting along Weiss' back as she sauntered towards the unmoving group of children. "They're all so precious to you and yet you doubt their sincerity even now? My poor girl…"

In an instant the children before her grew older. Taller, more refined, looking more like Hunters that she now understood they would become. That she would become. Had become.

"Terribly confusing, isn't it? Reliving the past while also being in the present." Salem smiled, a haunting, grotesquely sympathetic gesture as black nails raked across Ruby's cheek. "I feel it often too, you know. Torn between two different eras. Two different states of being." She frowned and shook her head. "An issue that I see you've been asked to help propagate. I don't appreciate what you and that wretch discussed; you know. And so, I've come to make a proposal to you, Weiss."

"Return to Vale, alone, and I shall have Ozpin remove the Warden's marks from your friends. They will be free to do as they please, their memories cleared of any unpleasantness that they've been made to endure as a result of your selfish actions. As I'm sure you've become well aware, having someone else manipulate you is a rather unpleasant sensation." Salem sighed, caressing Ruby's unblinking face, tilting her head and examining the petrified woman. "Or, you could continue this charade of yours and galavant around Remnant on a fool's errand. Ozpin may be content to let you run amok, thinking you will provide us invaluable information about those who would stand against us, but I'm not so naive. I would prefer to sever the head of the issue before it can spread."

"And so, I propose it to you once more. Return to Vale," Salem cooed, lifting her hand and flicking her wrist. A nauseating snap rang out and Jaune's head lurched to the side, neck bending at an unseemly angle. His body crumpled to the ground and his eyes went white. "Or I will ensure that every moment of your insubordination is hell. Give us what we need," another flick and Ren's head spun completely around. "Or I will make certain that your dear friends pay the price for it."

Weiss tried to fight. Tried to rally magic to her will, to pull a sword that did not exist. Her voice remained locked behind immobile lips; her eyes forced to fixate on the grisly scene before her. Even as Nora's head snapped back and her body crumpled the oak trees behind them swayed peaceably in an unfeeling breeze, the warmth of the fake sun continuing to seep into her increasingly frozen skin.

"I will make this demand once, and only once. You wish to spare your friends? Leave them, leave them and find us. The woman you travel with, Nike, can lead you to us. Do this, and I shall spare them. Refuse?" Pyrrha's neck twisted and her mouth seemed to open in a soundless cry. Her back snapped as she folded backwards, crumpling to the ground. Smiling, Salem took hold of Ruby's head in her hands, humming as she pulled the girl closer to her. "I wonder, how would it feel if you killed your precious Rose, hm? Would you be able to face yourself then? Because if you refuse us, Weiss. If you refuse me."

Salem took her time. Smiling, she tipped Ruby's chin back, running a ghostly finger along her throat, black eyes flaring red. Black smoke gathered around her feet and enveloped her friends, reducing them to gray, indecipherable masses, filling the air with a foul, fetid odor that made Weiss' nostrils and throat burn. Cooing, Salem kissed Ruby's temple, tilted her head sideways, and dragged a nail across Ruby's throat.

Through gurgling, gasping breaths Weiss bore witness to Ruby's frantic moments as time moved again. Hands rushing to her throat, silver eyes widened, her body swaying as she tried to keep her blood from seeping through. Blood. So much blood.

Red. Everything was red.

The sky had gone red.

Salem had turned red.

The ground. The cathedral. Her gown. Her vision.

Red. Red. Red.

Screaming, her voice finally her own, Weiss called out her partner's name again and again, desperately reaching out for her as Salem drew her back, grinning in triumph.

Weiss' screams continued until her throat felt primed to shatter, her ears ringing from the volume of it. Her vocal cords felt raw, hot tears pouring down her face as she became enveloped in darkness. She reached out and rallied against it, thrashed, kicking and screaming as she fought to reach Ruby. Her Ruby. Her friends, slain like cattle all as a threat. All because of her.

She rocketed from the dark like an arrow and light exploded around her. Her screams became louder and she realized, in some small, self-aware part of her frazzled mind, that she was in fact screeching. Over and over Ruby's name passed her lips, one hand lashing out and slamming into something cold and unmoving.

Breathless, she stopped screaming long enough to sputter and wheeze, head whipping side to side as she felt around for something to ground herself. Biting frost met her at every turn, walls of ice with enough sheen to reflect her appearance entombing her. Showing her a despondent, haunted girl with thin rivulets of blood dripping down one cheek, blue eyes bloodshot and nose, fingertips, and cheeks turned pink from the sheer cold surrounding her.

Distantly, Weiss heard the frantic calls of her friends as they tried to reach her. As if they existed in another plane of reality entirely. She numbly realized that Nike remained nearby, hovering above her and slamming her spear into the eggshell of ice that encased her, removing her from the outside world entirely.

And more closely than any of those things she heard a low, mocking chuckle, not in her ears but her mind. A sound that bounced between her ears and felt colder than any spell she could conjure.

"Come and find us, Weiss. We'll be waiting."

With any luck, I will not be flambeed for providing what amounts to a flashback episode. It was long overdue however, giving Weiss a little backstory in this AU of mine, and this felt like a natural enough way to do so. Dreams might not have been what some of you expected to get but here it is.

As always, thank you for reading this little tale of mine! I hope you continue to derive some enjoyment from it! And of course, if you've anything to offer edgewise, anything in the way of feedback, I'm happy to hear it!

Until then friends, take care!