A/N: Hola my lovely readers, como estas? I am inclined to bow down and beg everyone's forgiveness at this point. There is no way this chapter should have taken three weeks to write! Honestly though, I was struck with mild case of writers block. Thank you Pick Up a Penny for your encouragement and for inspiring this chapter to be written from Yang's point of view. And now, on with the story!

For there is no friend like a sister in calm or stormy weather;

To cheer one on the tedious way, to fetch one if one goes astray,

to lift one if one totters down, to strengthen whilst one stands.
- Christina Rossetti

~ ~0~ ~

The Princess and the Pauper
- Chapter 3: The Brawler and the Belladonna -

~0~

Blonde locks sway with every animated movement their host makes, shaking as her frustrated fist slams into the shop's front counter. A large man, probably somewhere in his early twenties, jumps at the sound, resembling a kicked puppy rather than a warrior in need of a weapon.

"Are you seriously trying to barter with me, to cheat me? Get out of here, now!" She roars, eyes flashing dangerously, tracking her prey as they flee towards safety. Yang huffs, crossing her arms angrily over her sizable chest. "Honestly, we aren't running a charity here and yet people always come running, hands outstretched, expecting this and that."

The crimson curtain separating the forge from its storefront counterpart rustles as Ruby approaches the blonde from behind. "Yang," She starts "You can't scare off my customers like that. Cardin has always been cheap, he's tried to bargain with me more than once, but don't let that bother you. Especially since he's a regular; I've been sharpening that boy's blade for nearly three years now."

"But Rubes..."

"Don't 'but Rubes' me. I need to know you're doing your job right, otherwise I can't focus in the forge. The Vytal festival will be starting in just three days and we're already swamped with custom orders for the combat tournament! Imagine how many more requests we'll receive once the diplomats from the four kingdoms finish arriving!"

A flash of white passes through the curtain and Yang's eyes immediately shift to watch the newly entered girl. Weiss leans against the shop's wall with ridiculously straight posture, tall and impeccably elegant, her icy orbs trained impassively on the blacksmith. The blonde immediately sizes up their visitor, not having a proper chance do so earlier in her sister's dimly lit bedroom. Weiss seems to exude grace, an air of sophistication, but also extreme intelligence and a hint of danger. The girl is obviously a warrior of some sort, if the rapier sloppily hidden under her ashy cloak is any indication.

Though, Yang knew better than to judge a person by the weaponry they carry, she'd learned that lesson the hard way, and instead opted to continue her analysis. A slightly crooked line of thin, faded scar tissue runs from the teenager's left eyebrow, over her pale eyelid, and down towards the edge of her profile. The blue orb beneath the scarred lid remains miraculously undamaged; meaning, either the Ice Queen had been grazed during some type of accident or she was just insanely lucky and managed to avoid losing her entire eye during a heated altercation.

The girl bears such a wicked scar outwardly, not attempting to conceal the imperfection in any way, and maybe even going as far as to show it off. It's treated as a badge of pride, as a symbol of her accomplishments, as a testament to what she has lived through. And that, is something Yang could grow to respect.

But, how did such an aristocratic girl get such a brutal scar? Is she a former guardswoman, a member of the Empress' private forces perhaps? No, her attitude is much too snobby for that. Her words are much to articulate for her to be just another common guard. Who is this girl, and what does she want with us? Well Yang Xiao Long you've never been known for your sensitivity; the quickest way to find out is to ask.

"So Ice Queen, did someone try to blind you or something? Because curiosity is eating me up over here! I really want to- Ouch what was that for! I was just asking her about her- Quit that!"

Ruby grits her teeth, withdrawing her elbow from its place between her sister's ribs. "Ever heard of delicacy? We barely know Weiss, why would she share something so obviously traumatic with total strangers? Sis, there are times when I really want to slap you upside the head, this is one of those times."

"B-but I really want to know!"

"It's alright Ruby, I may as well enlighten you both. After all, I am in your debt for preserving my freedom, and saving me from the guardsmen. Also, I am not sure the barbarian will let the topic go if I try and smoothly brush it off."

"I am not a barbarian! Okay, maybe sometimes... but it's still offensive!"

Weiss clears her throat, sending a pointed glare in Yang's direction before continuing. "As I was saying, before I was rather rudely interrupted, you both know my name is Weiss Schnee, but you do not know the weight it holds in my home country. I am the daughter of Schwarz Schnee, a rather influential nobleman in Atlas. My country is well known for its military prowess and its trading capabilities, specializing in the shipment of Dust. My father holds quite a bit of power over the market, and therefore power in the government."

"So you're like a princess then!"

Weiss visibly flinches at the word, quickly shaking her head in a clear sign of denial. "Heiress actually, I much prefer heiress."

"Okay, but that doesn't explain your scar." Yang interjects. "No offense to you, but I'd rather hear that explanation rather than your family history. So, how did you get it?"

Immediately the heiress' expression morphs, changing from stonily impassive to vulnerable in an instant. "That story is a bit... troubling. It is not a memory I think of fondly. Everything changed on the day of my elder sister's, Winter's, eighteenth birthday. We had a rather large party at the Schnee estate and a majority of the kingdoms higher ups were invited to attend. It was supposed to be a joyous day, one full of celebration and merriment. Unfortunately, not everyone thought of it that way. A small band of assassins arrived unannounced, likely hired by one of my father's businesses competitors. "

She takes a deep breathe, chest shuddering with effort as she struggles to calm herself and banish all traces of quivering emotion from her voice. "T-they slaughtered my sister, and my mother when she tried to protect me. I suppose I'm lucky to have only gained a scar while others lost their lives. Though, I don't remember receiving the actual wound. My father relayed the full story of the attack as I lay recovering. The physician claimed I suffered from extreme shock and quite a bit of blood loss. He claimed that I am lucky to be alive. Did you know that wounds of the face bleed more than all others, except, if an artery or vein is cut? I was lucky the blade did not penetrate further, nor was it coated with any brand of deadly poison, otherwise I would not be here to tell you both this tale. I could go further into detail but that is 'in a nutshell' how I obtained this scar."

The blonde had not once taken her eyes off Weiss during the entirety of her tale, measuring the heiress' voice inflections and body language. She may not look it, but Yang Xiao Long is an amazing judge of character! When she's sober that is...

I don't think she's lying about this. Her reactions were laced with raw emotion, and that's extremely hard to fake. Though, I can't help but feel like she's not telling us everything. Maybe it's just my imagination... Yeah, that must be it! Duh Yang, why would a girl tell total strangers every gory little detail about the worst day of her life?

Yang opens her mouth to speak but her little sister beats her to it. She wraps the heiress in an awkward, but totally socially acceptable, hug. Weiss stands frozen in place, most likely unused to such sudden displays of tenderness. The blacksmith shakes like a newly born doe; her wobbly voice imitates her body language and possibly oozes raw emotion. "E-everything is okay now Weiss. We'll make sure you're safe here; you'll never have to go through something like that again. Stay strong, Weiss! We'll get through this together!"

"Y-you dolt don't touch me! That happened a long time ago, seven years in fact, I do not need your sympathy!" Exclaims the Ice Queen, contradicting herself even as she protests by tentatively returning the blacksmith's embrace. "I am completely f-fine; the past is in the past."

"Um..." Yang drawls, coughing a bit awkwardly. "I hate to interrupt the emotional bonding going on here, really it's some good stuff, but I have a few errands to run today. Rubes, maybe you could get your new best friend to watch over the counter while I'm gone. Then you'll have time to work on some of your precious projects. See, everybody wins!"

The younger girls both nod in unison, two pairs of rare eyes watching as the blonde exits the blacksmith's small shop.

~0~

The cobblestone streets leading to Patch's main square act as the birthplace for the modest city's hustle and bustle; this holds especially true in the days leading up to the annual Vytal festival. Yang's bored, lilac eyes scan the chaotic streets from her safe spot, a corner seat inside the Drunken Black Bear. Couples roam the streets, flaunting their status by holding hands, linking arms, or other sickeningly romantic actions.

Yang heaves a heavy sigh before turning back towards her drink, taking a large swig from the foul smelling tankard. "Stupid couples... why don't they all go die? I don't need to be reminded that I'm alone every time I go outside..."

"I see you're still a fan of the hard stuff Blondie." Grunts a deep voice to her left. "You wouldn't have to drown your loneliness in alcohol if you'd just take me up on my offer. I'm not a bad man; you could do much worse."

Blonde brows furrow in annoyance as the familiar voice of the bar's owner grates on her eardrums. "Junior, a pleasure as always. But, I'll have to decline your oh so gracious offer... again. Now move along, before I have to do something a bit drastic. And who knows, maybe your voice will stay high pitched this time."

The giant man visibly flinches at her implied threat, clearing his throat and straightening his shirt collar to disguise the movement of weakness. "Blondie I'm not here just to make fruitless advances. Contrary to what you think, I have a reason for approaching you so publicly."

"Because you're afraid if you approach me in private I'll crush your family jewels again?"

"No, because I've got news concerning some of our more... interesting business deals. You've got a new challenger; she's some unknown bumpkin from Atlas. Claims she's here for the festival, and heard about you on the street. Apparently the Sun Dragon, and your undefeated streak, is pretty well known among most of the underground circles."

"Hmm... I suppose I have time for a quick match. When and where?"

"Meet me in the Arena at three. Oh, and try not to get your ass kicked Blondie; I have money riding on this fight."

The brawler hums in response, taking another, smaller, sip of her drink. "Trust me, I'm not undefeated for nothing. That foreigner won't know what hit her. Oh, and Junior. Put this on my tab, I'll pay you back... never." Without another word the blonde hands her tankard over to her associate and storms out of the bar.

Her alcohol muddled mind spins from the sudden motion, violet eyes twitching violently under the afternoon's harsh sunlight. "Ugh, what was I thinking? Who drinks at one in the afternoon!?" She slams a glove-covered fist into the nearest stonewall, the sharp pain cutting through the groggy cloud smothering her thoughts.

I need to focus! Fighting is all I'm good for anyways... I need to win, and bring back some money for Ruby. Ruby... she works so hard to give me everything, but I'm supposed to be the one to care for her. I'm her older sister! And now we have another permanent mouth to feed; I mean c'mon, Weiss isn't going to leave anytime soon. At least not of her own free will...

The brawler shakes her head violently; thick blonde locks flying wildly in every direction. She turns her gaze straight ahead, striding with a sense of purpose towards the bowels of Patch's back alleys. Three light, consecutive knocks echo throughout the alleyway, the sound bouncing off of a worn black door with a menagerie of distinct symbols carved into the wood. Yang had no idea what they were supposed to represent, if anything, though it was never particularly important thus she never asked.

A metal panel opens, a little above eye level for the brawler, and twin emerald orbs peer from the small space. A voice, high pitched and haughty, discreetly greets to the blonde. "Hello, Fire Dragon. Your match does not start for a few hours, does it not? No matter, it is not in my interests to care about such trivial things. You are free to enter the Arena and fight as you wish, so long as you follow the usual regulations. They are as follows-"

"Save the speech Melanie, or Miltialdes, or whichever Malachite you are! Just let me in, or else I'll get angry. You don't want to see me when I'm angry, do you?"

The black door abruptly swings open, providing Yang with an entrance to the alleyway's shadowy underbelly. Annoyed violet orbs send a piercing glare towards the active Malachite twin, taking in her gaudy cyan makeup and faux fur and feather wrap as she struts past.

So Melanie was guarding today. Well, that explains all the bad attitude. Miltia has always the more... composed of the two. Not that I can really stand either of those sell-swords, but whatever. I don't have time to concern myself with the lives of every hired mercenary in this city, especially not today.

She fumbles for the tie on a large burlap sack hanging off her left shoulder, removing a pair of leather gauntlets fitted with sturdy bronze knuckles. The metal shines even in the dim candlelight of the empty underground room, morphing the normally dull metal into the color of a live flame. "Are you ready Ember Celica? Let's show this upstart what the best tag team in Patch can really do!"

The blonde brawler stares fondly at her weapon of choice. She does so as if interpreting every flash of the metal as a word, as if holding a two-way conversation with her inanimate partner. She doesn't keep track of how long their mental conversation goes on, of how long she stands in place. But, it takes Junior's familiar voice calling a match warning for the champion to break out of her trance.

"Blondie are you in there? Your fight starts in five minutes, get out here and kick some ass. Remember, I've got money riding on this fight!"

Yes, I can do this. Though, I'm almost tempted to loose on purpose just to anger that overgrown crime lord. Well whatever, hopefully the Atlesian goes down quickly, I really don't like hitting girls.

Yang once again ruffles into her sack to retrieve the last piece of her armor, her helm. The brawler's fond smile disappears under a cleverly crafted bronze helmet, forged as a fiery effigy of her namesake, Yang, or the Chinese dragon. The helmet succeeded in not only storing most of the wearer's hair, even her monstrous main, but also tinting the wearer's eyes a blazing scarlet. Weak willed challengers were known to flee after catching a mere glimpse their opponent, terrified by both her sinister appearance and intimidating reputation.

The bronze fighter takes a deep breathe, psyching herself up for the match to come, before exiting the room and walking towards the Arena's center grounds. At the very heart of the underground coliseum stood stands, a row of approximately twenty benches, surrounding a low pit. It would be no surprise to the brawler if all the benches were full, if some spectators were even willing to stand and watch instead of cramming into the full seats.

I'm the champion after all, it's no surprise that people will want to see me fight. I'm still considered new blood, since I've only been in this business for a couple of months, and yet nobody has bested me. Humph, but that's their fault for being weak. I wouldn't mind a challenging opponent for once though; I want a fight that gets my adrenaline pumping, my heart racing.

The cheers grow progressively louder as Yang nears the pit's entrance, steeling her nerves for the battle ahead. A man's voice echoes from the stands, most likely Junior giving his signature pre-fight introductions, the words distorted by the tunnel's circular structure.

"Ladies... gentleman... I... tonight... Dragon against... new... Atlas..."

The blonde's ears strain inside her hot metal helm, only able to pick out a couple of words from the brute's eager announcement. At the sound of a bell she pounds her fists together, jogging out onto the dirt ring. The crowd screams their approval at her entrance, each section chanting something different, but all eagerly lending their support towards her next victory.

Yang flashes the crowd a helm-hidden grin and bows to each of the sections in turn. It's her own signature sort of guarantee, an unspoken promise that she'll provide the people with a good match. Abruptly the chants shift to boos and Yang turns, knowing her opponent will have entered the ring from the opposite door.

The Atlesian appears to be average in height, if not a little on the short side, and covered head to toe in midnight armor. The metal doesn't gleam and glow, like her own flashy Ember Celica, but instead radiates darkness. It's as if her opponent could just as easily face her as she could fade completely into the shadows like a whisper in the night.

Her weapon's sheathe is worn on her left hip; so most likely my opponent favors wielding that large sword in her right hand. Looks easy enough, though her lack of presence concerns me a bit. You always have to watch out for the quiet ones...

Narrow amber eyes meet the brawler's own violet orbs, the two sizing each other up before their match, and maybe trying a bit of intimidation as well.

*Ding*

The fight commences, though it doesn't last very long.

The two fighters exchange blows, or more accurately Yang throws punches and her opponent gracefully dodges each one with ease. The blonde growls, an almost inhuman sound from deep within her throat, her chest heaving as she struggles to gasp for breath.

Her opponent tilts their head in an almost mocking manner, before holding out a hand and making the come hither motion with their left pointer finger. The blonde roars, putting even true dragons to shame, before once again rushing in. She charges like a bull, hoping to tackle her opponent to the floor, and effectively earning her victory. But, then the impossible happens.

The black clad warrior takes her sword by the edge of its sheathe and disappears. An instant later she flashes behind Yang, sheathe poised to strike.

"What the-"

*Clang*

The sound of metal striking metal resounds throughout the Arena, causing even those in the highest stands to cover their ears. Yang staggers, vision blurring in and out as her helmet vibrates with the staggering force of the impact. She takes a few wobbly steps forward before falling face first into the dirt.

"I've created a disturbance in your equilibrium." States the calm, cold voice of her opponent. "At the moment you're much like a cat that has had their tail cut off. For the next several minutes you will not be able to stand, nor keep yourself balanced. You also may experience a level of dizziness, blurred vision, and perhaps a bit of uncontrollable vomiting. So, with that I believe I have won the match, correct?"

Yang struggles to push herself off the ground, her usually strong arms shaking before giving out once again. Realizing the futility of her situation, the blonde brawler slowly turns her head to quizzically gaze at her conqueror. The other girl's image spins, a feeling of vile nausea immediately rises from the pit of her stomach. She holds it in though; instead opting to ask the black clad warrior a single question, hoping it would shed some light on her defeat. "W-who are you?"

The girl smiles at the beaten blonde, or at least Yang assumes she does, before removing her helm. The piercing amber eyes are same as before, but her impassive smirk and purple cat ears are certainly new sights to behold. "I am Blake, Blake Belladonna. I would ask your name as well, but I do not feel the need to learn the identities of the weak. Honestly, I thought the people of Patch were much stronger. It seems like I was mistaken."

A/N: That's all for this week folks! So this chapter finally mentions Weiss' past and her scar. It's an important part of her appearance that I know I'd failed to mention before. Not that I didn't want to... I just wasn't sure how, or when, to do it. But, special thanks to levi97100 for your thoughtful review! It made me get off my lazy butt and actually write something!

Important Note: I posted this in my Valentine's Day one-shot "Family Game Night" but not all of you may have seen it. Due to a sudden increase in my workload I'll only be able to update bi-weekly. On the bright side the chapters will be a bit longer, maybe even double! Hope to see you all in two weeks! :D

- The Palmtop Tiger