Vengeance Is My Name
Chapter Fourteen
Author's note: Two chapters in one day, how things are heating up! Enjoy!
She cried every day.
Every day since that attack in the forest, she cried.
Not in public, of course. A Schnee would never be caught out in public showing any sort of emotion, much less such a display of weakness.
Now, Weiss sat upon a very comfortable, high backed chair, staring at her sad reflection in the mirror against the wall. Everything else in the room, much like the chair she sat upon, was crafted from only the finest materials money could buy.
The bed that occupied the middle of the large bedroom was bigger than the one she'd had back home in Nova, but that only served to illustrate how empty it was without Blake to keep her warm each night.
Her bottom lip trembled uncontrollably at the mere thought of Blake's name, and she pressed her fist to her mouth in an attempt to hold back the tears she could feel forming in her eyes. Squeezing them closed, she fought for control over her emotions even as her mind was filled with the thoughts of her raven-haired lover wrapped up in her arms.
A slash of pain tore through her heart, threatening to overwhelm her with the intensity. She'd never felt a pain like this before, and if this is what it felt like to have your heart broken, she almost wished that she'd never met Blake at all.
Even as she thought it, however, she knew it wasn't true. Blake was the light of her life, and even though she didn't show it as much as she would have liked, she loved her.
She still did love her.
Seeing as there was no hope of backing out of this train of thought, Weiss let her mind tumble down the same melancholy path it did every day.
She spent the first few days wondering if Blake had survived. The pain of not knowing wreaked havoc with her, fatiguing her mentally and physically as she cried non-stop for news of her love.
Not too long after, she'd ventured out of her room with the desire to get the answers she wanted. Storming toward Cardin's office, she was about to pound upon the door with all the fury her broken heart possessed, when low, familiar voices caught her attention. Falling to the side, she pressed her ear against the door frame, and heard the words that gave her the greatest hope, and the biggest fear.
Blake had survived. They didn't know how, or why, or where she was, but her body was gone. There was no trace of her at any of her usual places, but upon checking the local infirmary, they'd found a girl matching her description.
There was someone else with her, but Weiss had barely registered that bit of information at the time.
Blake was alive!
That bit of news made her heart swell with joy, even as her mind found no peace nor rest from the constant worries that plagued her.
The next few days after that were spent with her head full of thoughts of that beautiful girl. After she'd exhausted herself worrying about Blake's condition, her tired mind took her down a more insidious path.
She began to wonder if Blake knew where she was.
Surely she did. The flyers had been posted all over the surrounding towns, Nova included. That much she knew.
She had to assume Blake knew where she was, and of Cardin's intention to marry her. The next question was whether or not Blake was going to do anything about it. She worried that Blake had gotten the wrong message that fateful day they'd been separated. Weiss had been brewing a plan to run away, disappear and erase her existence from the Schnee lineage. Blake, being an orphan, would have no trouble disappearing from the face of the continent. Sad as it was to say, no one would notice her absence enough to miss her.
She was going to take some gold. Her father had more than enough of it lying around, endless piles strewn out on every end table and counter within their mansion, enough to impress any visitor that graced them.
Her father was quite tacky about his display of wealth.
She was going to take some gold, enough to get them by for a while, maybe enough to buy a small plot of land from some farmer in some corner of the world.
Blake was handy with tools. They'd build a modest house, and live together, forever, just the two of them. It was all they ever wanted, everything they needed, and without the Schnee patriarch breathing down her neck, for the first time in her life, she would have been happy.
She'd told Blake she was going to run away.
And then Blake had been attacked.
Weiss feared with all her heart that Blake would think it was her doing.
It wasn't. She had nothing to do with it, and had fought tooth and nail with all her might until she'd been struck across the side of the head and knocked out.
Maybe Blake blamed her. Weiss would understand. She knew what it looked like. She would understand if Blake blamed her for everything she had suffered.
More than anything, she hoped Blake didn't blame her.
Weiss stared at her forlorn reflection, the tears drying on her face as she fought to regain her composure.
Her father wanted to have a meeting with her over breakfast, and it wouldn't do to be anything less than perfect.
Speaking of her father...
He approved of the marriage between herself and Cardin. Both her father, and Cardin's father did. It was profitable for the both of them, although she wasn't privy to the details of just how lucrative this business proposition was.
Thoughts of her father and her family eventually turned her thoughts to her sister as Weiss picked up an ebony-handled brush and began to slowly run it through her hair.
Winter.
Her eldest sister had run off to go play war with the Rose Army. An army bought and paid for by her father's deep pockets. Winter had shirked the responsibilities of being the first-born daughter in favor of having her way with the leader of the Rose Army, no doubt living it up at the expense of everyone else around her without a care in the world. She traded her body for a position of power that she didn't earn, giving orders and throwing her weight around and standing tall in the shadow of one of the greatest warriors of their generation.
Or so the rumors went. Weiss had heard a lot of rumors about her sister and what she was doing within the confines of the Rose Army barracks. What was truth and what was fake was hard to discern, but one thing she knew for sure; Winter had someone she liked in her life.
It was hard not to resent Winter for leaving,
It was hard not to blame Winter for passing the duties originally meant to be borne by her shoulders onto Weiss.
It was hard not to hate Winter for being able to be with the person she wanted, while Weiss suffered as a result of her selfish actions.
It was impossible not to hate herself for taking so long to try taking control of her life. If she'd had half the resolve of Winter, instead of making excuses, Blake would be in her arms right now, and she would be happy.
All of those excuses she'd made to Blake night after night had sounded so good to her own ears, comforting her with their promise of taking the path of least resistance. She'd been scared to just up and leave, afraid to take that first step to uproot her life and run away with Blake.
Now she was afraid she'd have to live the rest of her life without her.
She wanted to blame her father for this. She wanted to yell and scream at Cardin for trapping her in a marriage she didn't want.
She wanted to berate Winter for having the guts to go after the thing she wanted.
She knew that despite all of those people, she only had herself to loathe.
A choking sob forced it's way past her lips, and she bit down on the inside of her cheek to smother her emotional pain with a physical one.
She wouldn't show a hint of weakness to her father if she could help it.
Her thoughts circling back to her father as she glared self-loathingly at her reflection in the mirror.
It was obvious that Cardin knew of Blake- but not of Weiss' relationship with the girl. As far as Cardin was concerned, Blake was just a casualty.
But why was she targeted in the first place?
Weiss felt the beginnings of dread begin to settle in the pits of her stomach.
She was beginning to think that there was more to this whole thing than she knew about.
Dropping the brush back to the table-top of the immaculate vanity dresser, Weiss peered over her reflection for a moment.
Her hair was long and straight, unbound as she knew her father despised. He thought it lazy, preferring her to wear it done up when in the presence of company.
Her eyes were red, a dead giveaway to the tears Weiss had shed this morning.
She didn't care.
Her clothing was immaculate, but not for the purpose of pleasing her father. She was, after all, a creature of fastidious habit. Her routine of long morning baths and hours spent primping herself were the only comforting things left in her life, and if she no longer had Blake to look good for, at least she could do it for herself.
Weiss grabbed a dark blue silken handkerchief from the vanity top and dabbed at the corners of her eyes, bowing her head to fight off a wave of emotion that threatened to make her well up again.
When the moment passed, she heaved a shaky sigh. Pushing herself to her feet, she tossed down the handkerchief and made a minute adjustment to the collar of her shirt.
She wasn't feeling particularly hungry this morning, much like all the other mornings, but it was best not to keep her father waiting.
The sooner she got this overwith, the sooner she could crawl back into bed and mourn the loss of her love.
Jaques Schnee was a man of extremes. This was evident in nearly everything he did, said, and thought.
Jaques lowered himself down into a hard wooden chair at the far end of the long breakfast table. Sitting upright, his posture was nothing short of note-worthy. His snugly tailored single breasted white suit was as spotless as it was eye-catching, the snowy white fabric appearing to shine in competition with the ornate gold square buttons that adorned the front of his jacket.
Jaques touched first his left sleeve matching cufflink, then his right, a habit formed when he first started wearing suits, many more years ago than he cared to think of. Back when they didn't fit quite right, and he wasn't sure if his cufflinks were going to pop out at the slightest wrong move.
Satisfied,he rested his forearms on the edge of the table, careful to keep his elbows down below the edge.
Small, round, pale blue eyes stared emotionlessly at the spread of food laid out before him, looking but not quite seeing as his mind filled with an endless train of thoughts.
Jaques was truly a man of extremes and parallels.
His patience for math and numbers and meetings was boundless, and nothing pleased him more than gleaning new information from an unread book.
His patience for people was limited at best, non-existent at worst. People often spouted nothing but drivel, wasting his time and driving him mad as his mind, unable to pause for even a moment, sped onward without brakes, running over the events of the day and planning for the next.
It was safe to say that he disliked people. Particularly women.
From day one, various women had given him nothing but problems. From his own wife divorcing him years ago, to his eldest daughter abandoning the path he'd painfully carved out for her with years of meticulous detail and planning.
Luckily, that plan was adaptable to his youngest, Weiss, but it still ate at him that his most carefully laid plans could be so easily subverted.
He was ceaselessly driven. He had a singular goal, and had devoted every waking moment of his life grinding toward it.
He was going to conquer as much land, technology, and resources as he could.
The desire to conquer was wired into the very core of his being, eating away at him from the moment his eyes opened in the morning, until they finally closed later that night.
Even when he finally laid down to rest in the evenings, his mind refused to be silenced. It raced on late into the night, reviewing every discussion, acknowledgement, and agreement he made during the day.
He was thinking long term, in the best interests of not only himself, but his family name. His work today would ensure the prosperity of future generations tomorrow, and for a millenia to come.
Which is why it made his blood boil that he'd sired two girls, and a sickly boy.
Winter had disregarded his wishes like so much trash in the wind, and despite his admonishments, she was currently very happy where she was at.
Not that she was out of the reach of his manipulation just yet, but it was infuriating nonetheless.
After a few years of discussion, planning, and careful manipulation, he'd adapted his plan to fit his younger daughter Weiss. Of course, that meant delaying things by a few years until she was of marriageable age, but he was nothing if not extremely patient in the best interests of his family name and fortune.
What he did not possess patience for was his daughters' drivel. They cared little for their family name and way of life, disgusting him to his very soul with their selfishness and self-absorbed way of thinking.
While he made sacrifice after sacrifice, working his mind and body to it's limits, they galivanted around without a care in the world and a single thought to anyone except themselves. He'd done everything in his power to provide a wonderful upbringing for them, and this is how they repaid him.
A grimace of disgust contorted his face at the mere thought of his impudent daughters, but he quickly forced it away. They were both still young, he reasoned. Perhaps he had spoiled them with a lavish upbringing, and for that, he had to accept his portion of blame. But they were still young. With a bit more care and attention, perhaps they could be brought around and be made to see sense.
As people, they were still reprehensible, and he had absolutely no patience or tolerance for them or their selfish whims, but as worthy investments, his patience would know no bounds as he carefully, masterfully, sculpted them into characters deserving of some worth.
His mind temporarily paused as the door at the far end of the dining hall opened, and his youngest daughter stepped in. He took in her long, unbound hair disapprovingly, but said nothing on the matter. Perhaps some finessing would be necessary this morning. He waited somewhat impatiently as she sauntered over to a chair at the far end of the long dining table.
"Good morning, Weiss." He spoke clearly, articulating each word as if each carried the weight of a human life.
"Morning Father." She nodded curtly at him, sitting up primly before carefully flicking out a napkin and placing it upon her lap.
He regarded her carefully as two servers entered the room silently. They set about preparing dishes for the both of them, as Weiss stared back at him unflinchingly. Jaques wanted to wait until they had left the room before beginning his discussion, and it seemed Weiss picked up on that, for she simply stared at him in stony silence.
They'd both had enough breakfast meetings to know that there was nothing pleasant or civil about what was about to happen.
A plate was set down in front of each of them, and Jaques said nothing as Weiss politely thanked her server. When they stepped out and the door shut behind them, Jaques reached for a cup, pulling it toward him as he reached out with his other hand to grasp a pot of hot coffee.
"Have you been sleeping well?" Jaques asked, slowly pouring coffee into his mug.
Weiss shrugged, a useless gesture that he absolutely loathed.
"You're not mute, nor are you an imbecile." He bit off scathingly, setting down the coffee pot and raising the cup to his lips. Taking a sip of the scalding hot black liquid, he dabbed his lips with a napkin before speaking again.
"So I'd suggest you use your words."
"I sleep as well as can be expected, given the circumstances." Weiss replied, her tone indicating how poorly she thought of his line of questioning.
"I see." Jaques paused a moment, glancing down at his plate. There upon it sat a neat portion of eggs, toasted bread, and several strips of bacon. It was not what he was used to in Nova, but here in Citadel they did things differently, and he could respect that.
Their lack of fresh fruit, however, was a bit alarming.
"Weiss- " Jaques set his fork down and pushed his plate away, folding his hands together and leaning forward to rest upon the edge of the table.
"We must have a frank discussion."
Weiss nodded. "Please. The sooner this is overwith, the better."
Jaques didn't bother dignifying that with a response. Chalking her sour attitude up to the events of the last few weeks, he nodded.
"Cardin tells me you've been crying and whingeing every day, and it's quite frankly making life miserable for him."
Weiss' eyebrows fell into a glare.
"My apologies for inconveniencing him with my emotions." Her tone was bitter and sarcastic.
Jaques cleared his throat, tempering his desire to verbally berate his daughter.
"What I mean is, Weiss, you knew this was coming. An arranged marriage, I mean. Cardin is a nice enough fellow, gentlemanly in his conduct, is he not?"
Weiss said nothing, chewing on her bottom lip.
"You are still my daughter. If he's treating you poorly, I shall have harsh words for him."
Jaques saw her shoulders begin to lift in yet another damnable shrug, but they fell short as she seemed to reconsider it.
"He's certainly polite. He possesses all the traits of a gentleman, it is true. His behaviour toward me has been nothing but admirable."
"So what is the issue?"
Weiss pursed her lips, apparently unwilling to speak on the issue.
Jaques figured he knew what it was, and decided there was no better time than now to broach the subject.
"Tell me you aren't still wanting the little half-demon."
Weiss' eyes expanded to the size of dinner plates, and Jaques leaned back in his chair as she opened and closed her mouth several times, apparently unable to find the words to speak.
"I- " Weiss stumbled over her words, a heated blush finding it's way to her cheeks. Still, she refused to look away from her father.
"Did - how would you know about such a thing?"
Jaques took another slow sip of coffee.
"I know about everything that goes on within the confines of my house."
A defiant look flashed through Weiss' eyes.
"I know she snuck into your room almost nightly. I must admit, she wasn't very creative about it. Once she found a path through the gardens and up the west side of the mansion, she stuck pretty closely to that route."
"You knew which way she took?"
Jaques nodded slowly. "I know everything." He repeated.
Weiss sucked in a deep breath, gaze falling to her untouched food as she exhaled slowly.
"So it's your fault she got attacked, then."
When she raised her head up to look at him, he wasn't sure if he'd ever seen such clear cut hatred burning in her brilliant blue eyes before.
Raising a hand, he lazily waved away her anger.
"Please. I would do no such thing. The blame of that lays with the head of the Winchester clan. He didn't want any... er... distractions to the successful union between yourself and Cardin."
Weiss' hands clenched into fists and she angrily pounded them upon the table top.
"I'll cut that fuc-"
"WEISS." Jaques loud voice boomed out across the table, startling his young daughter into silence. When she looked at him, he relaxed a bit.
"You will do no such thing."
Weiss ground her teeth together, contemplating her next words.
"Did she survive?"
Jaques already knew that Weiss knew she had, but he had to commend her on not broadcasting the hand she was playing with. In her mind, he reasoned, if she said that she knew the girl was alive, he could very well order her hunted down and slain.
"She is." He nodded.
"Are you going to finish what you started?" Weiss asked, her tone steely.
Jaques shook his head. "Like I said earlier, Weiss, this wasn't my decision."
"You knew about it, and with all your power and money, stood by and did nothing to stop it. You might as well have stuck the blade in her yourself." Weiss spat angrily, her nostrils flaring as she trembled with fury.
Jaques contemplated her words for a moment.
"Look, Weiss." He began, "Forget the girl. I brought you here this morning to explain something to you. You knew for a long time now that this is the way things were going to turn out. For the betterment of the family line, you agreed to it. There's no changing that now. We ultimately chose the Winchester's for a very specific reason. This is a union of families that will ensure the prosperity of both for generations to come, and to do anything that would jeopardize that would be incredibly self serving and ignorant."
"I want to see her." Weiss spoke.
"Impossible. I won't allow it."
"I don't care what you will or will not allow."
"A Schnee - especially one to be wed to a Winchester - will NOT be seen gallivanting around with a half-demon. I won't allow it. It won't happen, Weiss. I'll kill her myself before I allow it."
"Bastard." Weiss growled. "I fucking hate you."
Jaques sighed slowly, reaching up to rub at his temple.
"That's fine if you do, Weiss. The thing is, this marriage is incredibly important to me, for many reasons, and I won't let you botch this up."
"And what if I don't marry him?" Weiss stuck her chin out defiantly. "What if I throw a wrench into all your precious plans?"
Jaques smiled thinly.
"You'll have a front row seat to watch your precious half-demon fuck toy be strung up by her wrists and ankles and flayed alive. I'll make a blood eagle out of her."
Weiss was struck speechless by the brutality her father had suggested, yet Jaques took no pleasure in the way Weiss' face drained of color. Her eyes widened in a look of horror, and for a moment Jaques was certain that she was going to be sick.
"You're a monster." Weiss choked out, pushing her chair back. Jaques said nothing as Weiss stormed from the room, but he was confident that with the half-demon as a bargaining chip, he could fulfill the requirements of the marriage contract and get his end of the deal paid in full.
That reminded him, he thought, as he glanced down at his rather untouched breakfast. He needed to send word to the leader of the Rose Army that things had changed. Now that Weiss was aware that her plaything was still breathing, he needed to keep it that way.
At least, for the time being.
Raising his hand, he rapped his knuckles twice authoritatively on the table top. A second later, and a now-familiar aide dressed in the grey and gold colors of the Winchester house entered the dining room, stepping promptly to his side.
"Sir?"
Jaques didn't spare the man a sideways glance as he took a sip of coffee.
"Roman. We need to have a meeting. There are a few changes that need to be made. Two hours. The conference room."
"Sir."
"Dismissed."
Roman nodded, then spun on his heel with a flourish, disappearing from the room as quietly as he'd entered.
Yes, Jaques thought, his mind churning through the events of this morning, there were many things to address.