Weiss started awake as the observation grate on the cell door was slammed open. The metal clang echoed horrifically in the small room. A small cry escaped unbidden from her lips. The light streaming into the room and burning her eyes dimmed as someone looked in on her. Their features were hidden, but it wouldn't have mattered. No one had paid the slightest heed to her threats or, later, her propositions with promise of great rewards.
She hadn't begged. She wouldn't. No matter how many days or weeks they kept her in this cell. She honestly didn't know how much time had passed since her capture. The room was kept close to pitch black with the only light coming in through the small crack under the door. Sometimes they even blocked that up. There were no windows. No rising sun or moon. No way to gauge the passing of time. It was just her and her thoughts. That was the worst part.
The guard slid the grate closed and, even though she knew it was coming, she still flinched. The noise was far louder than it should have been. It stabbed into her ears. It wasn't just the sound though, it was what it represented. It was an audible metaphor of her bondage. She might have been the ruler of Atlas but, at this moment, she was nothing more than a prisoner.
In the darkness that followed the painful light, Weiss pushed herself into a sitting position against the cold stone wall. It leeched what little heat her body had from her back, but so did the floor. She'd forgotten what it was like to be warm.
Her thin dirty blanket only succeeded in scratching her skin. Still, it was better than nothing. The chains attaching her wrists and ankles to the wall clinked as she tried to pull it over her legs. It was so hard. The sheer weight of the oversized links sapped her energy, and made her body ache whenever she attempted to move. Most of the time she couldn't find the will to bother. Alone they would have been bad enough, but the manacles didn't satisfy her captors. She was a huntress after all.
Her hands were bound into fists by tight leather mitts. Her fingers trapped in her palms. She couldn't move them at all. Even the simple action of covering herself with a blanket was a struggle. Not being able to grip it, the material slipped between the smooth surfaces of the gloves and reduced her to the state of an invalid.
She could barely do anything. On the rare times her jailors remembered to feed her, she ate like an animal. Cutlery would have been denied her regardless, but with her hands she would at least have been able to pour the disgusting gruel into her mouth. Instead, she'd been forced to dip her face into the bowl and lap it up with her tongue.
The first time she'd seen what was meant to pass for her meal she'd flat out refused to even touch it, insistent that it wasn't fit for human consumption. The guard had ignored her complaints and just taken it away. Eventually the panging pains of hunger had eroded her resolve. She'd thrown herself at the bowl, dipping her face in it, not caring that the smell and taste made her want to throw up. The guard had laughed at her then, calling her an 'An Atlesian bitch. A Dog.' The insult had stung, but it had been true. It had only taken her days—or weeks?—to lose the dignity of a noble she'd once thought ingrained into her very being.
The simple loss of function caused by the mitts might have lowered her morale, but that wasn't their primary function. She couldn't move her fingers at all and, by extension, couldn't make use of her Semblance.
All her training up to this point had been a mistake. She knew that now. She almost screamed with the knowledge of it. Her impotency was self-imposed. By using her fingers she was able to achieve an almost unprecedented degree of control over her glyphs, but all the intricate gestures were her undoing.
Upon awaking in the dark, she'd been confused. Her memories of what had occurred had been blurred by the drugs. It was only when she'd tried to move and the heavy chains had stopped her did she remember. Remember what they'd done to her, done to Winter. There hadn't been fear in that moment. Only rage. Rage so intense that whole of Vacuo would have borne the brunt of it.
Her first task was to break her bonds and escape the cell. It should have been easy. She twisted her fingers to Summon Kilgharrah only to find them immobile. She'd tried for hours that first day, straining her Aura, pouring it into her Semblance until her body was fit to burst and her head spun. But the power had nowhere to go. Without her fingers, Kilgharrah remained trapped in whatever realm he resided in. Much as she was trapped in the cell.
The hopelessness of her situation was crushing her. She was the richest person in the world. The most powerful. She had mega-corporations and armies at her whim. With a word she could set events into motion that affected every person on the planet. And yet, despite all of that, she was still chained to a wall in the dark and the cold.
She'd almost given up, almost started crying, but something had stopped her. They could take her power. They could even take her dignity—from stripping her while she was unconscious and putting her in a jumpsuit, to forcing her to eat like an animal. But they couldn't take her will. Not unless she let them. She was still a Schnee and, no matter what happened, that would never change.
It was the concept she clung to. Not always successfully. On occasion she had cried. But when the tears stopped flowing, she'd wiped her eyes as much as she was able, and swore it wouldn't happen again.
If it was just the personal degradation and physical discomfort, she could have coped. But it wasn't. In the heavy silence, she strained her ears for news of Winter. In a strange way, it hurt more to picture her in the same situation. Her normally resplendent appearance ruined by a jump suit. Her hair in disarray. She wondered how Winter was coping? Whether she'd given up yet? Weiss was at least sure that she was alive. They were both far more valuable that way.
She wasn't so sure about the rest of her retinue. By now she would have expected them to have rescued her. To have killed the guards outside and broken down the door. To have unlocked the chains from her arms and carried her away. It was what she'd hoped for over so many long hours, and fully expected. Her security detail had been the best. She knew of only one way they would have been stopped, and the guilt weighted heavily upon her.
She'd brought them into this situation, and she'd been far too stupid to see just how dangerous it was. Their deaths were on her conscience. Erashan's death. He'd been a part of her life for so long. Growing up, he'd been the closest things she'd had to a friend. He'd been the first person since her mother to take an actual, real interest in her development. No matter what, he'd always been there for her. Until now. She didn't know how she was going to break the news to Lobelia that their child was going to grow up without a father.
It was all her fault. All of it. She should have seen. Should have known. She thought she'd been playing everyone, winning, when in fact the reverse had been true. The entire scheme had probably been organised with the sole purpose of getting her in this cell. She didn't know what that purpose was, what Aatish and Badr thought to accomplish. They'd signed their own death warrants.
The world knew where she'd been. Her arrival and presence had been televised. Those left in charge in Atlas knew where she'd been. For an attack under the cover of diplomacy, there would be only one response. Vacuo could not stand before Atlas' might. Even now, the forces deployed in Vale were likely moving towards the border. Civilians were being drafted. Dreadnoughts taking off. The full force of the most powerful country on the planet would be brought to bear, and would bring her attackers to their knees.
Atlas' reprisal was sure to be terrible, but it couldn't help her. At best she would be a pawn, her fate decided by others. For her entire life she'd been at the whims of others: her father, Winter, her tutors. Only in the past two years had she discovered what real power was like. It hadn't come with freedom, not with all the responsibility, but at least she'd been able to dictate the direction of her future. Now she couldn't.
Now, she was utterly powerless once more. Tears were beneath her bloodline. She wouldn't cry. Chained, hungry, and shivering beneath a thin blanket in a cold, dark room, Weiss had to admit to herself once more; she'd never been a very good Schnee.
Weiss was awake the next time she heard the guard return. Despite how disgusting and degrading it was, she hoped he'd brought her another meal. They weren't feeding her enough. The bowls themselves were tiny, the gruel watery. If she was lucky enough to have bread, it was hard enough that she could barely bite down into it. There was logic behind their cruelty. The malnourishment had left her limbs weak and her Aura depleted. She wouldn't be putting up much of a fight even without her chains.
The observation grate clanged open as the guard looked in. What was the point? It wasn't as if she could have gone anywhere. Despite the pain in her eyes from the light, she stared straight back at the silhouette. Another bang echoed around the room as her door opened.
This time Weiss did have to raise an arm to shield her gaze. The fluorescent bulbs in the corridor were blinding. Through watering eyes she couldn't make out the features of the prison guard, but she could see that he wasn't carrying a tray. Her cracked throat was almost enough to make her beg for a drink.
The guard's heavy boots thumped on the concrete floor and he came to a stop looming over her. Weiss pushed herself into more of sitting position. She would have risen, tried to face him down, but she'd learned the hard way that the effort wasn't appreciated.
"Present." His tone was harsh and Weiss knew his voice. She looked beyond him, hoping to see another jailor. There was none. They were alone.
Biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from making a noise, she did as ordered, pushing her blanket off herself and presenting her limbs. The guard obviously didn't find her actions fast enough. He grabbed a handful of the chains coiled on the floor and heaved. Her body was hauled out from under her and she saw stars as her head snapped into the wall.
"Now see what you made me do." His fingers dug into her forearm as he checked her gloves and manacles for any sign of tampering. She offered up her other arm without a fight. "Good girl." He checked her ankles, but when he was done he didn't removed his hands from her legs, instead they slid higher. "So, have you changed your mind about having a little company?" His lips twisted into a leer as he copped a feel of her legs through her jumpsuit.
Weiss tasted copper. On the first morning, back when she'd been less compliant, it had been him and another guard. He'd suggested to his friend that he knew just the tool to bring her into check, and he hadn't been subtle about his insinuation. Thankfully the other guard had stopped him that time. But each time he was alone with her, he became a little more confident.
As much as she wanted to lash out, to kick him in his face and knock out his disgusting teeth, she couldn't. If she knew anything about human behaviour and animals like him, struggling would only encourage him. Bound and weak, he would be able to overpower her easily. Instead she stayed still, her limbs lifeless, spiders crawling all over her skin, doing nothing other than shaking her head.
"Bitch!" He backhanded her. Weiss collapsed to the side, her vision swimming. It was a sign of how far she'd fallen that even a weak blow like that got through her Aura. He might have hit her, but he did back off. The cool logical part of her mind guessed that he'd been given express orders not to rape her; the terrified part thought one day he would anyway.
"You still think you're so high and mighty, even when you're shitting in a bucket." He reached towards it. "God, it reeks."
A small sob managed to escape her lips. It really did. Having to use a metal bucket as a toilet was by far the most degrading experience of her life. It was a struggle to even open the flap on the back of her jumpsuit, and when she was done there was no way she could wipe. She felt utterly filthy, and no doubt she stank as much as the open bucket. The only saving grace was that, due to the lack of food and drink, she didn't need to use it often, but what came out flooded the cell with nauseous fumes.
The guard picked it up, the foul mixture within sloshing. He held it above her head and tilted it. She scrambled away, as far as her chains would allow. It wasn't enough. He laughed. "The next time you say no to me you'll be drinking this." The mere thought was enough to make her gag. "Remember that." With one last threatening tilt he left, the bang of the door echoing around the room.
Weiss struggled to pull the blanket over her body, covering herself, hoping beyond hope that the thin material would provide her some protection. It wouldn't. She could only pray that it had been a baseless threat from a sadistic mind. That he wouldn't actually force her to make the choice. She didn't know what she would pick.
In the wake of the guard's exit she honestly considered trying to end it all. Again. It would be easier. It would stop the humiliation and the possibility of more pain to come. She'd already worked out a way. The eyebolt that secured her to the wall was a foot off the ground. She could wrap a chain around her neck and just lie down. It would be like going to sleep, and then she'd be safe.
It had surprised her the first time that the thought had surfaced. Even throughout her abusive childhood she'd never fallen so low. But she'd never been in a situation like this. Treated worse than an animal, knowing she'd led her troops to their deaths, failed her sister, and failed the people of Atlas who were relying on her. The darkness that had always been inside of her, that was inside of everyone, swelled.
There was very little that stopping her in the end. Just the certainty that she was better than that. That no matter how bad it was at the moment, she couldn't give in. If she gave in, it meant she was giving Winter permission to as well. She refused. Just as she refused to contemplate the idea that she might never see Ruby again. Never talk to her. Never hear her laugh, or kiss her lips. If the world still had a shining beacon that gave her the strength to hang on, Ruby was her light in the darkness.
Footsteps returned outside. Weiss hugged her blanket to herself. She didn't want to give the guard the satisfaction of knowing she was scared, but she couldn't help it. Down here false courage only got her so far.
The screech of metal assaulted her ears at the same time light attacked her eyes that had only just re-adjusted to the gloom. Weiss looked around her arm. The silhouette did not belong to the guard, though it did seem familiar. When her mind connected the dots fury surged into her blood. She managed to clamp down on it just, but not her tongue.
"You treacherous snake!"
The slap of King Badr's slippers paused. Weiss forced herself to her feet; the jangle of chains precluding any conversation. She wouldn't talk to him from the floor. The disparity in their appearances only made her angrier. In their last conversation, she'd been wearing a hand-tailored suit. Now she was in the filth-covered clothes of a prisoner, whereas his embroidered robe wouldn't have looked out of place at a coronation.
With her pupils contracting, she was able to make out his face. His nose wrinkled in aristocratic disgust. It was a good thing she was restrained in place, otherwise she didn't know what she would have done. The stink in the room was all his fault, but at least he didn't have to live in it. She did.
"Weiss… I didn't mean for any of this to happen."
Her fingers fought against her gloves. It would be worth dying to see Kilgharrah rip his lying tongue from his lying mouth.
"Bullshit!" It was uncouth and undiplomatic ̶ ̶ a reply Yang would have been proud of ̶ ̶ but what did propriety matter anymore?
Making a clear effort not to breathe through his nose, Badr walked further into the room, coming to a stop just beyond the limit of Weiss' chains. "I know how this must look ̶ ̶ "
"It looks like you've assaulted me in breach of all diplomatic conventions, imprisoned me, and treated me worse than an animal."
He held up his hands in a placating manner. "I'm sorry. I truly am." His eyes took in the extent of her world at the moment. "I didn't know. This was the first time I've been allowed down here."
"Don't play that card. This is your palace."
Badr nodded, a shadow passing across his face. "It is. But I told you the desert winds are strong. I might be the figurehead, but I have no real power."
"And you expect me to believe that? What kind of ruler are you?"
"A poor one. When I took the throne, I wasn't much interested in ruling. I was happy to allow others to do the boring work while I sated my selfish desires. When the time came that I wanted to do some good for those I ruled, I found that I couldn't. All my power had been eroded. All the guards that surrounded me were picked from my satraps' barracks. They didn't follow my orders. I am as much a prisoner in my palace as you are."
"Really?" She punctuated her word with the clink of her chains.
Badr smiled slightly. "Maybe not. Again, I can only apologise, but the sentiment stays the same."
Weiss' jaw jutted. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. It had to be lies. Every political report that had ever come out of Vacuo listed Badr right at the top of the pyramid. There was no way the satraps could have fooled everyone for so long. Fooled her for so long.
"You expect me to believe this? You have an army here. Alfurat is the economic centre of Vacuo. You expect me to believe that you couldn't reclaim power if you wanted it? You can strip nobles of their titles!"
"Don't you think I've tried?" It was a rare, frustrated outburst from the normally controlled king. "That army you mentioned is controlled by men put into place by the people I would order them against. They would laugh in my face while having me escorted back to my chambers. You're right. Alfurat is the economic centre, but it has no natural resources. Everything has to come from somewhere else, and I don't need to tell you where. If I tried anything, the satraps could simply stop all exports to the city and blockade the tracks that bring your Dust. Alfurat would be in chaos within days. I would probably be dragged into the streets and beheaded. They know that as well as I."
Some of his lies were tainted by fact. There was an old saying, 'Society is only three missed meals away from anarchy'. It had been proven true time and time again. The majority of Alfurat's industry did rely on imports from the surrounding territories, but she still couldn't bring herself to believe him. She couldn't afford to believe him.
"If you knew this was going to happen, why didn't you tell me?" If he had, she wouldn't be standing covered in her own filth.
"I didn't know. I only suspected they were planning something when they organised your visit. I never knew they would do all this. You have to believe me."
"I don't." The story was too clean, too pity inducing. She refused to believe that the revered ruler she'd been dealing with for the past two years was nothing more than a puppet.
"I would have told you. I don't know what they were thinking. Maybe my satraps will kill me, and maybe not, but Atlas definitely will now."
That picture was able to bring a smile to her face. She could only hope to still be alive on the day when Atlesian dreadnoughts darkened the skies and caused the palace walls to shake. "It will be what you deserve."
"I'm sorry you feel that way. I've only tried to do what is best for our two countries. I want to prevent another war."
"It won't be much of one." That at least was certain.
"No," Badr agreed. "But people will still die. Innocent people. You can't wish death upon them as well."
"So what? You treat me like this, and then expect me to forget it all and forgive?" He was deluded. She would never be able to forget the shame, and nor did she want to forgive.
Badr's shoulders slumped. "No. But I told you, I'm not the one in control. I can't even offer to free you."
"So why are you here?" In his presence the solitude of her cell was much more appealing.
"Because Aatish told me to come down. He thought you'd be more willing to speak to me than him." He'd been right about that, but only just. "He's not scared of Atlas. He doesn't even think he'll have to fight."
The statement sent a chill down Weiss' spine. Did her citizens actually know what had befallen their ruler? Had Vacuo somehow managed to cover it all up? No. Her rational mind reasserted itself. That was impossible. She was a public figure. She couldn't just be disappeared. People would find out. "Then he's a fool."
"Aatish is many things, but a fool is not one of them. He has friends in Atlas. Powerful friends. They've lodged appeals with the courts, stirred up public opinion, launched TV ads. They've done everything they could think of to keep the Atlesian fleet grounded. It still is. There's no one coming to rescue you Weiss. At least not at the moment. And Aatish doesn't think there ever will be."
No one would dare. Surely. No one would risk her reprisal by going up against her. The Ice Queen was terrible, and her wrath too certain. No one would have so little to lose...
Some did though. Some had already stretched the limits of her patience. Coco and the other nobles of her little group. The ones she'd thought to inconsequential to stamp out. Surely this couldn't have been them.
Maybe she had underestimated them. It was a mistake she would take to her grave. Perhaps through through legal trickery they could ground the Atlesian fleet, but her personal forces were beyond any court's control. They must have been biding their time, waiting for the opportune moment. It was what she'd taught them.
"You still think you're going to be rescued don't you. That you don't have to play by Aatish's rules. Let me tell you, he's thought of that too. How do you think he managed to capture you so easily?" She'd been an idiot, that's how. "Where was your security detail?"
"You killed them."
Badr shook his head. "The only shots fired that night were in the room where you were captured. You were betrayed Weiss. Your head of security, Lord Wache I think is his name, he made a deal."
Her heart lurched. No. She wouldn't believe it. Erashan would never have betrayed her. He would have been loyal up until his dying breath. He'd loved her like the daughter he'd believed he'd never have. She'd trusted him implicitly. He'd saved her life numerous times. He would never have made a deal, unless…
Since the truth of Blake's involvement with the death of his father had been revealed, he had been more distant. Quieter. A little more brooding. His sense of honour had dictated that he take revenge. She'd asked him to put honour aside, and he'd done so. For her. Even in a matter as important as that, his loyalty to her had trumped all.
Surely he hadn't made a deal? Betrayed her to be captured in this cell? She couldn't believe that. She could believe Erashan was dead. She regretted it immensely, but she could believe. There was no possibility he had betrayed her. He couldn't have been bought for any price.
Then again, she would have expected the elite operatives who'd formed her security detail ̶ ̶ hunters all who'd performed countless operations against the White Fang ̶ ̶ to have made more of a commotion before they were killed. There would have been gunfire, explosions, Semblances. She'd heard nothing of that. Maybe it had happened after she was unconscious, or maybe not. Would their loyalty to Erashan trump the loyalty to her? Would they have abandoned her if he ordered? She didn't like to think so, but he had always been willing to put himself on the frontline. That was a trait soldiers admired.
No. She wouldn't believe it. Couldn't. Not until he stood before her and explained it in his own words. Erashan and her troops had died to defend her. It was as simple as that. Badr was just trying to get inside of her head.
"I don't believe you."
"I know betrayal is hard to take, but I'm telling the truth. Much like me, you will remain here. But unlike me, there is a chance that the satraps will allow you to leave."
"Oh, really?" she couldn't keep the scepticism from her voice. After going through this much trouble to capture her, they wouldn't just let her walk out. Especially with Coco and the others back in Atlas.
"Perhaps, after your trial."
"Trial?" she mustered up a laugh. It would be a trial in name only. "I suppose by kangaroo court? Or will you sit in judgement? What sham charges are you laying against me anyway? That I eat babies and consort with the Grimm?"
A hint of Badr's teeth showed beneath his lips in response to what he took as a joke. "Nothing so fictional I'm afraid. Though you will be found guilty. The evidence is too damning."
"It normally is when it's fabricated."
Badr retrieved a folder from just outside the door. He pulled a photo from inside it. "Do you recognise him?"
It was man, perhaps twenty-five with dark hair. "I've never seen him before in my life."
"I think you have, though I suppose his face might have been forgettable." Badr held up a sheet of paper. "Do you recognise that?"
Weiss squinted. The days in darkness had damaged her vision. The text was small, but there was an official Atlesian government letterhead at the top. As she read she began to remember. It was a photocopy of a death warrant, and her flowing signature was at the bottom. She glanced at the photo again.
"Yes," Badr said. "The same man. Ramil Wasem. You authorised his execution following the riots in Atlas in the wake of the bombing of Tintagel Castle. He was a Vacuan citizen on a temporary visa. You are being tried for his murder."
"He was a criminal." The rioters had been tearing up the city, bringing misery to hundreds of thousands. Her father had had to do something. It had been harsh, but it had been effective. There had been no more disturbances the following night.
"That was a matter for a jury to decide. You denied him that. They would have found him innocent, as you would have if you'd taken the time to investigate who you were sentencing to death. Here," he pulled out more photos, sheets of data. "Here he is in the lobby of his apartment building. Notice the timestamp? He didn't leave until your men arrived to arrest him. These are his internet logs. He was on a video call with his girlfriend for hours. All the time he was meant to have been rioting. Then he went to sleep. You sentenced an innocent man to death."
Weiss looked over the documents carefully. In a darkened cell it was hard to tell, but if they were forgeries, they were good ones. She screwed up her eyes, trying to go back to that night, trying to find anything that might help her here. There was nothing. Her father had left a stack of papers on her desk, forty three of them to be precise. There hadn't been hard evidence, just a line or two of text. It had been the first time she'd ever killed with a pen. She'd given orders to ADRG before, but these had been colder. And it had been hard. Terribly hard. By the end, the process had been little more than blur. She couldn't remember Ramil at all.
"He was guilty." She clung to that fact. Her father had always been meticulous. If Ramil's name had been selected, it was because there was at least a thread connecting him to the riots.
"No, he wasn't." For the first time Badr showed some anger. "Look at the evidence in front of you. You signed the warrant. You ordered the death of an innocent man. That makes you culpable. It's enough that Aatish thinks he's going to get away with all of this."
"So you execute me in reprisal and all this magically disappears?"
"You and Winter."
Her heart skipped a beat. "She wasn't involved in this." It had been her hand and hers alone on the pen.
"I know, but Aatish wishes to try her alongside you all the same."
"No." It was one thing to face her own kangaroo court. It was another to know that Winter would be alongside her, sharing her unjust fate.
"I've argued that, and I've managed to get Aatish to agree to a compromise."
"What is it?"
"You plead guilty ̶ ̶ "
"Never!" Not while she was unsure if she'd even signed for Ramil. And regardless it had been necessary. Worth the cost.
"Weiss, hear me out. If you plead guilty, he'll let Winter go. She'll be put on an SDC airship back to Atlas the very same day. You can save her from this."
"And what of me?"
"I've managed to negotiate that down too. Blood money to Ramil's family, a more favourable trade deal that protects the satraps' interests, a signed document of non-reprisal against Vacuo, and house arrest, probably no more than six months."
"How generous." Weiss understood now. This had all been an elaborate scam to rip her off. They didn't care about Ramil, only about money.
Badr mistook her sarcasm. "Weiss, I've tried. It's six months instead of years, for both you and Winter. You'll have internet. You'll be able to keep your position at the head of Atlas. It's the best for both of our countries."
"The best for yours maybe."
"The best for both of ours. This way there's no war. In six months you'll be free, and we can put this behind us." Badr glanced behind him at the open door and spoke in a whisper. "With your help, maybe I'll even be able to regain some power. Overthrow the satraps." He raised his voice again. "We'll be able to bring our countries closer than ever. Just six months and then everything can go back to normal."
Normal? Nothing ever would. She would never be able to forget the indignity she'd suffered here. It would be burned into her until the day she died.
"Prison? Like I am now?"
"No. A house. A mansion if you want. You can afford it. I told you, I'm sorry about all this." He gestured at her chains. "I would never wish this upon anyone."
"Then change it."
"I told you that as well. I have very little power. I argued against your treatment, but Aatish wouldn't listen. This is what you can expect for years if you don't confess."
"Never."
Badr inclined his head, resignation settling on his features. "I'm not asking you to make a decision right now. Just think it over. Think of your sister. Of how she'd suffer in prison. You'll be found guilty regardless. That I'm certain of." He backed away, before stopping in the door. "Just think it through. Please."
The door slammed shut, and her world returned to darkness once more.
Weiss shifted, trying to extract a modicum of comfort from the concrete floor. It was a hopeless struggle. No doubt her body would be covered in bruises from sitting so long, but it wasn't like she'd had a choice. Since Badr's visit all she'd been able to do was to sit and think.
He might have been lying about Erashan, about Coco and the rest, but he had managed to plant the seed of doubt in her mind. There was a chance that there would be no rescue, no Atlesian reprisal. The Ice Queen had not been popular, she could recognise that, but she'd at least thought that she as a person had been. That her edicts had made life better for the majority of the populace. That they would miss her. Perhaps they might, but she'd made enemies. Ones she'd managed, but enemies all the same. Short of a general uprising, they were the ones with power.
She had to face up to the prospect that she might be stuck in this cell for as long as they decided it. Long enough for her to fade from importance. For Winter to be replaced at the SDC. For their family legacy to be stolen out from under them. It was a possibility that was becoming more real by the hour. Her guilt was assured. How long could she live like this before her will faded completely?
If he could be trusted ̶ ̶ which she still wasn't sure about ̶ ̶ Badr had given her an out. Six months, in a house, not chained like an animal but relatively free. Maybe even have a garden and able to breathe in the fresh air.
Winter could be free. She could go back to Atlas and maintain their grip on power, on their company. Together, they could work to undo any of the damage that had been done to their reputations. They could return things to almost normal. And then, afterwards, there would be reprisals for those who had moved against them.
Compared to years, to what could happen, six months wasn't that long. It was the best option. All she had to do was admit her guilt. That was the sticking point. No doubt many in the world viewed her soul as sullied ̶ ̶ Ruby had ̶ ̶ and though she had sentenced numerous people to death, she couldn't confess to a crime she couldn't remember.
That was wrong. Surely she should have been able to recall every single person that she'd ever sentenced to death. That the act of breaking the sanctity of life should have been imprinted on her mind. That their faces should haunt her.
They didn't though. When she truly believed that it was necessary for them to die, that they deserved it, she was able to forget. What did that say about her? Was she so cold?
It had cost her Ruby. Ruby might have been naïve in some ways, but she was so pure in others. She would never forget the faces of the people she'd had to kill when no other options were open to her. But the important thing was that she would have looked for those options. That killing was the absolute last resort for her.
During in the long hours of internal reflection in this cell, Weiss had admitted that it wasn't always for her. Often she'd authorised executions simply because they were easier than the alternative. Less drawn out. Perhaps some of the criminals she'd sentenced to die would have been able to be rehabilitated, but she hadn't given them the chance.
That was wrong. She could see that now. Ruby had always known it. The world they lived in was harsh and cruel enough without her adding to it. In her attempts to do the best for everyone, she had been unethical.
Looking back, there were many decisions that she wouldn't have changed. Ones that there had been no other option. But there were also many that she would. Her zeal to stop a reoccurrence of the situation in Vale, the near civil war in Atlas, her desire to make the world better, it had all blinded her.
With her tunnel vision, she hadn't been able to see how she herself was driving Ruby away. Forcing a wedge between them. It had been her fault. All her fault. Ruby would have wanted nothing more than to stay, but she hadn't been able to bear the pain of seeing the person she loved turn into the Ice Queen.
The Ice Queen couldn't have Ruby, but Weiss could. If she just acted fairer, with more restraint, relied more on dialogue than threats and force, maybe she could change. Standing on the top of the world was the loneliest position imaginable. She couldn't choose not to, it was in her blood. But maybe she could choose to have someone else by her side. The person that she loved with all her heart. She just had to be the person that Ruby would be proud to love right back.
It could start here. A confession to show her contrition. Maybe Ramil was just a fiction, but he could be a manifestation of her regrets, of her desire to change. And when Ruby saw, she would know just what it meant. That they could be together again.
Weiss waited until a guard's boots sounded in the corridor again before calling out. "Tell the king I'm ready to talk."
She was doing this for Winter. For Ruby. And for her.
A/N: Weiss has made a decision. Now she just has to find out whether it was the right one. Lots of people did think that Winter had been killed off in the previous chapter, but the wine contained a sedative that Winter didn't have the strength of Aura to fight off. As for the red in her hair, it was just wine from her overturned glass.
Another quick announcement. Now that the majority of the shorter chapters are over, we'll be going back down to a single release per week.
As always I hope you enjoyed and please leave a review.
