This is a prequel. It takes 1 year before Glynda got her first gig at the Rose household.

I guarantee no expertise in elementary school, Arabic culture, Islamic immigrants, disability and playgrounds. Especially Arabic culture and disability; I am trying to be as informed and respectful as possible, and I welcome any corrections from the comments.

-OOO-

She walked outside and looked at the other children; laughing, playing, bounding around together on the play-set or chasing after a ball. Weiss sighed; when was she going to figure out how to make friends?

She approached the swings. Not the new ones; the old set, on the other side of the parking lot, which were old and creaked and of which one of the pair was broken. It was nominally within the view of the supervising teacher, so nobody minded that Weiss spent every recess sitting on the set, staring at the ground, half-heartedly kicking her legs but never enough to generate any appreciable momentum.

Sometimes Weiss wound up the chains of the swing-set, so she would spin in place once she pulled her legs up, but it never helped remove Weiss's frown.

The bell rang for recess, heralding another lonely half-hour for Weiss. She dragged herself to the swing-set again.

This time, there was someone already there.

It was that weird dark-skinned kid who never talked and was always reading in the corner; The one who always had her hair wrapped up. Blake something.

Mom and Dad said to keep away from people like her, even though Winter said in her letters from Afghanistan that she'd met a lot of nice people like that so far during her tour of duty. But right now, Weiss was most concerned that someone had interrupted her routine.

"Hey, you, weird girl-"

"I'm the weird girl?" said the weird girl, "Aren't you the kid who had to wear an eye-patch for a year? Like a pirate?"

Weiss touched the scar over her left eye. "T-that doesn't matter. What matters is," Weiss manage to say, "What you're doing here, all of a sudden?"

The weird girl looked at the ground. "Teacher said I can't read in the library during recess anymore," she mumbled.

"Well," Weiss said, "You can't sit there. That's my swing."

The girl stuck out her tongue. "Nuh-uh! I was here first!"

"Well, I was here yesterday!" Weiss folded her arms.

"That doesn't count. Dibs reset every recess."

"Oh yeah?" Weiss tried to shove the girl.

The girl grabbed Weiss's hand and jumped out of the swing-set. She pushed Weiss to the ground.

Weiss got back up immediately. Then they fought for real.

Well, as real as elementary kids could get. There was a lot of timid slapping, and some shoving, and at some point Blake jumped on Weiss.

Eventually, the dust settled. Blake had Weiss pinned, on the ground.

"Okay," Weiss pouted. She struggled to no avail; Blake's grip on her wrists was too strong, and Blake was too heavy to shake off. Blake was grinning, which made Weiss pout even more. "Fine, you win. Now get off me."

Blake leaned in closer to Weiss's face and grinned harder. "No."

Weiss squeaked. Her face grew hot and her breathing heavy.

Blake continued staring, grinning, enjoying seeing Weiss struggle or something.

"So, um," Weiss managed to say, "I guess you've won the swings."

Blake blinked. "Oh. Yes."

Then Blake got up. Weiss rubbed her wrists where Blake held her.

Blake sat on the swing-set and kicked her legs, rocking her forward and back. She laughed.

Weiss couldn't think of anything else to do but sit to the side, with her arms crossed and her face in a frown. Blake was really having fun. Weiss frowned. She hadn't realized how fun the swing could be, and regretted never using it like an actual swing.

It was another day. Weiss did her schoolwork in the morning. The bell rang for recess, heralding the start of the most important race of Weiss's life, so far.

Weiss eyed Blake a couple minutes before the bell was about to ring. Blake avoided eye contact. She read her book with a smug smile on her stupid face.

Then the bell rang, and they two girls ran.

Weiss wasn't un-athletic. Her parents had her take gymnastics and ballet and fencing, and she was still just in the fourth grade.

But for some reason, Blake was just as fast. Maybe even faster, under certain circumstances. They were neck and neck during the sprint from the edge of the school to the ancillary playground.

Weiss jumped and grabbed the seat of the wet. "Ha!: Weiss panted. She smiled in victory, as much as she was able to while out of breath. "I won!"

"Nuh-uh!" Blake said, "I touched the poles first. That's part of the swing."

Weiss pouted. "That doesn't count! They're closer than the seat!"

"That's why I went for them." Blake smirked. She tapped her head. "You just gotta be smarter then the swing. Which you're not!" Blake stuck her tongue out.

Weiss thought she could argue her position, but she felt a pounding in her heart when she considered that she had lost to Blake again.

And Blake kept winning engagements, afterwards. When the opportunity came up where Blake and Weiss got to compete, like who was better at math or who could say the alphabet the fastest, Blake would win and stick her tongue out at Weiss, and Weiss would smush her lips together and nurse a throbbing in her chest.

And every time Weiss tried to talk to Blake, the dark-skinned girl would insult Weiss, usually without looking up from her book, and Weiss wouldn't just stifle a cry in her throat but also resist the urge to smile and shudder.

Because every time Blake called Weiss stinky or illiterate or short it just made Weiss more obsessed with her, and every-time Blake physically overpowered Weiss, it made the rich girl feel weird in her chest, but in a way she decided she liked.

And then, one day at lunch, Weiss approached the bookworm as she was reading.

"H-hey, Blake." Weiss said to the ground.

Blake didn't look up from her book. "Oh, Weiss. I thought I smelled something bad."

Weiss smushed her lips together. Then she cleared her throat.

"Hey, I showered yesterday," Weiss said, with a bit of pride. It was such an adult thing to do.

"Guess you're not good at showering, then, because you're still stinky. Add that to the list of things you're bad at. Which is everything."

Weiss clutched her chest.

Blake resumed reading her book.

"S-so," Weiss managed to say, "I brought you something, Blake-"

"You what?" Blake looked up from her book. She eyed the box that Weiss was offering.

"I-it's a lunch," Weiss said. She smiled. "I made it myself."

"So it's poison."

Weiss pouted. "No it's not! I worked my hardest on it!"

"Then it's unintentionally poison. Because you're bad at cooking.

"Nuh-uh!" Weiss said. She opened the box, revealing the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches she'd worked so hard on.

"Actually, uh," Weisss said, as she thought of something. She got really embarrassed by the possibility. "I hope you're not allergic to peanuts."

Blake looked between her book and Weiss and the lunch. "I'm not. But I don't know if it's poison, so you take a bite out of it.

Weiss looked down at her sandwich. It was supposed to be for Blake, but she couldn't disobey her...

Weiss took a bite-

And Blake stole the sandwich from out of her hands.

"If you're willing to eat it, then I guess it's not poisonous." Blake took a bit from the sandwich. Her bite intersected Weiss's, and that knowledge made Weiss's face grow hot, a little.

"I suppose this gift is adequate," Blake said.

Then Blake scrunched her mouth. She dug through her backpack and pulled out a book with a robot on the cover.

"Here. You can have this book. I already read it, and it's not poison."

Weiss's eyes grew wide. "Blake, no- I couldn't-"

"Fine, then you can just borrow it." Blake looked at the wall and pouted. "And don't get the wrong idea; I never let a debt go unpaid. It's not because I like you or anything."

Weiss gingerly took the paperback from Blake's outstretched hands. She didn't really read, and she wasn't into sci-fi, but she read the whole thing three times before she returned it.

Weiss would point to that moment as the beginning of becoming friends with Blake.

True, Blake would still insult her and make fun of how she smelled, but it became less and less harsh. Or, perhaps, more harsh, because Weiss seemed to like that, but Blake also tempered that with back-handed compliments and, occasionally, genuine compliments. They made Weiss feel weird inside in a different way, so Weiss appreciated those moments as well.

Over the next few weeks, Weiss learned a lot about Blake. She learned that Blake was adopted and that she liked to read and that she had a bunch of foster siblings. Her parents were lawyers or something, which was another group of people that Weiss's parents warned her about, but Blake was starting to think that maybe her parents were wrong.

And Weiss told Blake a few things about herself, as well. She liked dogs, but she didn't dislike cats, and she liked to sing. And she told Blake a big secret about herself; the scar over her eye she hated so much was from playing with a knife.

Blake didn't insult Weiss for telling that secret. Instead, Blake ran her finger across Weiss's scar, and she blushed and stuttered and told the smaller girl that the scar made her look cool.

The bell rang for recess, heralding another race to the swing set.

Blake won the race, like always. Weiss panted and feigned sadness at losing and prepared herself to watch Blake play on the swing.

Blake's face reddened, just a bit, and she looked off into the distance. "You can sit on the swing today, if you want," Blake said.

"But you won the race, fair and square."

"I always win the race, because I'm better than you," Blake said, "But I also have better morals, so I'm allowing you to have a taste of the swing-set. Just this once."

Weiss smiled, sheepishly. "Well, I don't know-"

"This is such great gift, Weiss. Don't tell me you're the ungrateful sort."

Weiss's mouth wobbled. "I- uh-"

Blake looked upset. "Fine! I'll even push you. But this is the last time I'm offering."

Weiss's mouth went ultra-wobbly. Her heart jumped into her throat. "Okay," she managed to say.

And Weiss gingerly sat her butt down on the swing set, and then Blake put her hands on Weiss' lower back. Her hands felt warm, through Weiss's' clothes.

And Blake didn't push her off the seat, like Weiss hoped worried she would. Actually, Weiss got a respectable boost from Blake pushing her.

And after a few iterations, Weiss was soaring through the sky, restrained by the chains of the swing, though, but soaring nonetheless. Perhaps the feeling of flying came, in part, from Blake's touch.

Weiss's mouth curved into a smile. She laughed, in joy.

And one day, during recess, Blake and Weiss just lay on the ground, next to each other. By now, they had taken turns pushing each other on the swingset, but soon the play apparatus lost its charm. The two girls lay looked at the sky, pointing at clouds, though Weiss would occasionally turn to look at Blake.

"So do you want to play on the swings again?" Weiss said.

"We already did that," Blake lamented.

Weiss turned to Blake. "So is there anything you really want to do?"

Blake was silent for a moment. "I always wanted to be a princess," she said, eventually.

"Nah. princesses aren't so great," Weiss said.

Blake turned to Weiss. Her face was aghast. "How can you say that? You must be dumb as well as stinky."

Weiss smushed her mouth together. "My parents got me a tiara a few years ago, and it kept falling off. I can bring it tomorrow, if you want?"

Blake bit her lip. "I-idiot. What person wouldn't want that?"

The next day, before recess, Weiss presented her princess tiara to Blake. Blake looked at it in wonder, running her fingertips along it's length.

Blake removed her head wrappings. She had a beautiful cascade of wavy black hair that went down below her shoulders.

Blake swished her head back and forth, further enrapturing Weiss.

Weiss blinked a few times and swallowed. "Are you allowed to take that off?"

"Mum says I don't actually have to wear it until I'm twelve, and even then, and until then, it's a personal choice." Blake said. She handed Weiss the wrappings and put the tiara on her head. "How's it look?"

Weiss smiled. "Perfect."

Blake blushed at the wall. "Y-you idiot. Nothing's perfect."

When Blake wasn't looking, Weiss stuck the scarf below her nose and inhaled. It smelled like strawberry shampoo and sweat. Weiss shuddered.

But Weiss had an idea. She wrapped the length of cloth around her head. She posed for Blake.

"How do I look?" Weiss said. She was prepared to be called dumb or ugly.

Blake scrunched her mouth to the side. "Sort of like a Barbary Corsair."

Weiss titled her head. "What's that?"

"They were pirates, in the Ottoman Empire."

Weiss smiled. "Heehee, that sounds great."

"Really?" Blake said, "I thought you hated being called a pirate, after last year?"

Weiss shrugged. "Maybe it's grown on me."

"But pirates are lawless," Blake thought aloud, "And I don't know if I like the idea of you roaming the seas, beholden to nobody."

"Well, then I can be your captain," Weiss waved her arms, "I will be an admiral in your employ, my princess."

Blake blushed and smiled, avoiding eye contact. "i-idiot. But if you want to do that, I guess I'll allow it."

The bell rang for recess, heralding the first day of the reign of Arch-princess Blake Belladonna.

Blake and Weiss ran to the play set. There were two layers of elevated platforms, connected by plastic slides and monkey bars and stepping blocks, and a climbing net and all sorts of cool

Blake ran up to the tallest tower, while Weiss grabbed on to one of the lower vertical poles and leaned as far as she could out away from it, like a pirate on a mast.

Grand Admiral Weiss Schnee looked up to the castle that belonged to the most beautiful princess in the land. "Oh princess, my princess," she exclaimed.

And Arch-princess Blake Belladonna looked down and smiled a smile that could warm a thousand hearts, "My sweet corsair," she gestured with graceful arms, " Will thou protect me, with all your strength?"

The Admiral gestured grandly. "Of course, m'lady!"

"And willst though serve me, with all thou heart?"

The Admiral laughed like gently crashing waves upon the shore. "Of course, m'lady."

And the Princess grinned a mischievous grin. "And will thou obey me, with all of thou body?"

The Admiral couldn't help but smile. "Of course, my princess. Anything for you."

"Oh, my captain," exclaimed the Princess. Then she coughed. "I mean, that is good. I am glad I can depend on you."

And Weiss found that which could always remove her frown. And Blake, though she wouldn't admit it, had found her favorite person in the world.

Sankt-Kaiser Ruby Rose looked over the occupied castle, breeming with the tell-tale signs of foreign occupation.

"And what," she spat, "Is this abomination? This blight upon my domain? This insult to my reign?"

Grand Vizier Yang Xaio-long bowed, next to the Sankt-Kaiser. "It appears that one Blake Belladonna has occupied the southern ruins and assumed the title of Arch-princess."

The Sankt-Kaiser's nostril's flared. "An Arch-Princess? She seeks not just her own domain, but that of all others! Such arrogance must be met with overwhelming force. And such personal affronts to

Me," And the Kaiser grinned wickedly, sending a billious chill down her advisor's spine, "Must be made impossible to repeat, with any cruelty necessary."

Ruby turned to her subjects. "DO YOU SEE?" Ruby yelled, "What happens when we allow the wretches to encroach upon our world? When we lose our vigilance for but a moment? Interlopers steal what is rightfully ours, and vermin play where we once laughed."

The Kaiser's minions trembled before her.

Ruby looked out before her and posed.

"This will be a reckoning upon her so-called kingdom." Ruby shot her hand out, pointing forward. "BRING THEIR EMPIRE TO DUST."