Writer's note: Sorry about the delay. Also, from the comments and reviews asking for Yang to do horribly violent things to Papa Schnee, I would just like to say that y'all are bloodthirsty. It's very heartwarming to know people hate the villain. Also, if you'd like to see the full, larger version of Skiretehfox's cover art for this story, you can find it on my tumblr profile at RedSuitWriter. (Or just search Tumblr for 'redsuitwriter', the story should come up pretty quick)
Captivity
The next day was a blur, with brief moments of clarity broken by more doses of the foul-tasting liquid. Not that she could be sure. She hoped it was just the one day, but between the doses and the refusal by the guards and the nurse to even speak to her, she couldn't be sure. The first thing Weiss could solidly remember was leaning over the edge of the bed, puking her guts out onto the floor. Whichever sleeping draught they'd used, it reacted poorly to Weiss' system, leaving her in an almost constant state of nausea for the good part of a day. At least there was one good side to the whole ordeal: the person who had to clean it all up was the same nurse who'd dosed her.
Once she'd recovered, and the stench of vomit had been washed away and replaced with fresh-cut flowers, Weiss and her captors settled into an uneasy truce. Struggling meant more of the sleeping draught, something neither side particularly wanted anything to do with. So Weiss kept her silence during the occasional visits from a healer, and old man she didn't recognize who came to make sure her head was healing properly. The rest of the time, she was alone, apart from a guard at the door and a nurse who visited three times a day. Tray in-hand, the dour woman would untie one hand long enough for Weiss to try and get some food down while the guard watched like a hawk from the doorway.
After the second day, Weiss was starting to lose her temper. No matter how she looked at it, there wasn't any good way out. There were never less than two people in her room at any one time, so even assuming she managed to overpower the nurse, the guard would still stop her long before she could free herself from the bed. One sleepless night of struggling taught her that the ropes would take far more abuse than she could dish out in a few hours. By the time she'd be able to slip the knots, it would already be well past dawn, and her chances of escape would be slim to none.
By the third day, she was about ready to risk it. The indignity of being tied to her own bed was bad enough, but the sheer monotony of spending every day staring blankly at the ceiling had her ready to commit murder.
Slamming her head angrily back against the pillows, Weiss tried to come up with some way to free herself. It had been far too long since that blond idiot had run off on his moronic hunt for Yang. There was no telling the kind of trouble they could cause if she didn't warn Yang in time. Jaune's life didn't particularly concern her, but her father's men had no idea what they were doing.
For all I know, Yang's roasted the lot of them. Or ...
She shook her head and yanked on the ropes again. There wasn't any point in thinking that. This was Yang, after all. This was a large, scaled, fire-breathing dragon.
She's more than a match for a few soldiers and a puffed-up, cowardly, and entitled little sycophant. Even if they are able to do some damage to the cave, Yang has magic. She'll be more than fine.
Except she can't really do anything other than turn human, whispered some small, traitorous part of her.
... shut up.
It's the only magic she can do off-the-cuff. If they cause a cave-in ...
Shut up, shut up, shut up!
Planting her feet against the foot of the bed, she pulled on the ropes as hard as she could, her arms straining against the ropes. She wanted free. She wanted to scream, to yell, to slam the damn bed against the wall until the whole bloody contraption shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. The only keeping her from venting her rage was the threat of the noise bringing more guards, and inevitably more of that disgusting potion.
When it was obvious that she wasn't doing anything other than adding new rope-burns to her wrists, Weiss slumped down against the mattress, teeth grinding in frustration.
She'll be fine, she told herself, slamming her head back against the pillow. She has to be fine. She has to.
A knock came from the door, making Weiss' head jerk to the side as her heart skipped a beat. Had someone heard her struggling?
No. They couldn't have. The nurse and the guards never bothered to knock before. She doubted they'd do it if they thought she was trying to escape. But if it wasn't one of them ...
"Weiss, it's me." The bottom of her stomach dropped as Jaune's voice came through the heavy wooden door.
"The nurse said you were doing better. You mind if I come in?"
She swallowed before answering, her mouth suddenly gone dry. "... I'm not exactly in a position to stop you."
Apparently taking that for a 'yes,' Jaune pushed the door open, nodding to the guard outside. Her stomach turned as he stepped into the light, giving Weiss her first real look at him. A silk tunic far too rich for his blood draped across his chest, bound at his shoulders with golden clasps. His bracers and graves were freshly-polished and gleamed like silver on new, clean leather straps, and a sword with a golden hilt hung off his hip, the large gems embedded in the pommel glinting as they caught the light.
"I see you got your honors," she growled, unable to keep the hostility out of her voice. Her gaze lingered on the sword at his side, remembering the feel of those jewels against her palm. It was the same blade she'd drawn against Yang her first night in the cave. The same flashy, ostentatious, impractical one she'd cast aside.
The mere sight made her want to tear the bastard's throat out.
"Yeah," he blushed and rubbed at the back of his neck, completely oblivious. "Apparently, defeating a dragon is kind of a big deal."
Weiss swallowed. Defeating? Did he mean ...
No. It couldn't be. It had been a few days, and maybe that was long enough for them to make it to the cave and back, but Yang wouldn't have gone down that easily.
Still ... he has her sword.
Weiss let her gaze slide back to the ceiling. She felt ... empty. Not that it made any sense at all. She'd only known Yang for ... what? A week? Maybe two? It shouldn't ... she shouldn't feel ... it was just some stupid dragon, after all. An obnoxious one, too. And argumentative, and rude, and stubborn, and oblivious to the most basic human behavior, especially when it came to anything that might possibly embarrass her-
A gentle hand rested on her shoulder, and Weiss fought the urge to cringe away in disgust.
"If it helps," Jaune said, smiling sympathetically. "It died quick. It was ... I dunno. Slinking around, I guess? I think maybe it was sick, or something. Anyway, we waited to make sure it was in the cave, and-"
"Jaune," Weiss cut him off, her voice shaking. "You really want to stop talking now."
His expression changed to worry as he looked down at her, settling into the chair at her side. "It still has a hold over you, doesn't it?"
She shook her head, trying to keep her voice from breaking. "Nothing's wrong with me, Jaune. I just don't want to hear this."
"... sorry." Putting his hands in his lap, he sat back in his chair, adjusting the sword on his hip into a more comfortable position. The movement made the crystals glimmer, and Weiss found herself stuck by an intense desire to bury the damn thing in his chest. Up to that damn, impractical hilt.
"This whole thing must have been pretty traumatic. I don't know what I'd do if there was some monster mucking around inside my hea-"
"Stop. Talking."
"... sorry."
Weiss leaned back against the pillows and closed her eyes, hoping in vain that if she didn't say anything, he'd get the hint and go away. It didn't work, not that it surprised her. She could still her his breathing, hear the sound of the monster who'd killed her-
'Her' what? She and Yang hadn't even had the time to discuss something so basic as what they meant to each other. 'Friends' was too mundane for everything they'd gone through, what they'd done. They hadn't gotten the chance, and now ... now they never would.
"Is there anything I can do?" Jaune said, his voice breaking through her reverie.
Opening her eyes, Weiss looked over at the boy seated at her side. He looked genuinely concerned, even worried. One of his fingers unconsciously traced a groove in the side of the bed, and guilt flashed across his face at the sight of her reddened skin beneath the ropes.
The question is, exactly how dumb is he?
It took her less than a second to decide. Clearing her throat, she forced her voice to remain steady and even. When she spoke, she almost surprised herself – the calm, reasonable tone hardly matched the growing desire to wrap her hands around his bastard neck.
"You could untie me."
Jaune winced at the request. "You know they're for your own safety, right? We didn't want you hurting yourself."
Weiss managed to resist the urge to roll her eyes. The ropes were about as much for her own safety as Jaune was an actual dragon-slayer. And it isn't me they should be worried about.
"Jaune, I am tired of having to call for a healer just to get some water." She roughed up her voice a little, even gave a slight cough before she cleared her throat again. No reason to not play for sympathy. "I'm not going to hurt myself, and even if I wanted to escape, where exactly would I go?"
Weiss watched as he struggled to decide, his mind overtaxed by more thinking than she supposed he normally did in a week. She could almost guess what was going through that thick skull of his. After all, she was just an innocent, misguided princess. What could be the harm?
Finally, he ran an anxious hand through his hair and stood, moving over to the bedside. "... I can probably get away with one, but if I do both, Lord Schnee will kill me."
"Well, one arm is better than none." The princess had to stop herself from smirking. What a moron.
His dagger made quick work of the ropes around her left hand. Yanking her hand back towards her, Weiss winced, stiff muscles complaining bitterly after being trapped for so long. Flexing her fingers, she pulled herself into a sitting position, her trapped arm jerking against the ropes. But at least now she could sit, and it was nice just to be able to see more than the ceiling and what part of the room she could make out over the side of the bed.
Risking a look around, Weiss stared about the room that had been her prison for the last few days. The shutters to the window were boarded up, locked tight on the off chance she tried to escape. The curtain cords were gone, leaving the cloth to drift freely from the odd breath of air that snuck under the door.
I'm surprised they didn't try to pad the room while I was out.
The only other change sat by her bedside, littering across the floor in an ordered mess. It looked like someone had uprooted a small flowerbed and transplanted it into her room. Vase after vase sat along her bedside, filled to the brim with posies and lilies, orchids and poppies. So that's where the smell was coming from.
"Why are all these here?" she asked. One set would have been enough to cover up any lingering odor. There wasn't a need to turn her bedroom into a garden.
"Gifts," Jaune said, looking sheepish as he stared down at the pile. "A bunch of people feel really bad about what happened with ... you know, the dragon and... everything."
Weiss snorted and looked away. Of course they did. She was sure the good townsfolk were all torn up about having tried to sacrifice her. It had to be so difficult for them to have the young woman they nearly killed living within the city again. And of course, some flowers were meant to make her forget about the small business of their attempted murder.
"Actually," Jaune muttered, pawing through the pile and pulling out a thick, canvas-wrapped package. "This one's from your father."
Before she could say anything, Jaune was already opening it. The thick cloth unfolded easily, leaving the contents open and lying on the bed. Stepping back, Jaune looked over at her face, any subtlety forgotten in his haste to see her reaction. Gritting her teeth, Weiss kept her face as impassive as a statue as stared in horror down at her father's gift.
"What ... what is this?"
"Well, I mean," he fumbled, his goofy grin faltering. "It's supposed to be yours."
Quick as a flash, Weiss' hand whipped out and grabbed Jaune by the front of his tunic. Hauling him forward, she forced the blonde to meet her eyes.
"What the hell did you do?"
Jaune's hands were already up in the air, as if surrendering might prevent her from strangling him. "I didn't have anything to do with it, I swear. It was all your father's idea."
"I don't care whose idea it was. Explain," she growled, twisting the fistful of tunic until her knuckles grazed his throat. "Now."
Jaune blanched, the color draining from his face as Weiss' glare sharpened. "Look, dragon slayers are a pretty hot item. The bards are already working on a few new stori-"
"Jaune, I couldn't care less about your falsified heroics. Why is this here?"
"... they're not false," Jaune said, a hint of petulance creeping into his voice. Gods, the boy was actually pouting. "I'mthe one who rescued you while it had you under its spell. I'm the one who led everyone back to kill that freak."
"And I look forward to the chorus about you hitting a young woman in the head with a rock after she knocked you on your ass. Stop deflecting." Swallowing, she gave one last glance at the jumbled silk resting on the bed. It was a soft, pale pink, and cut in a fashion that made her skin crawl. "Why is my father giving me a betrothal gown?"
For a second, he looked like he was about to argue. Like he might actually grow a spine. Then he looked away, shame making it impossible to meet her eyes.
"Your father thought ... well, I was the one who rescued you, so maybe ... it might be a good idea if we ... got married?" The last part carried the distinct sound of a question, testing to see her reaction to the idea, a spark of hope flickering behind his eyes.
"Of course he did," Weiss muttered, releasing her grip and letting him fall back into the chair. 'My father thought' huh? Yeah, I'm sure you fought real hard to convince him it was a bad idea.
She shouldn't be surprised, really. Her father had been wanting to find a suitable match for her for a while now. Winter's marriage had given her some leeway, but she'd always known that eventually her father would pick a suitor, and now he was stuck trying to offload her after this whole 'incident.' The sacrifice and her abduction posed a problem for him – there was no telling what might have happened to her while she was Yang's 'captive,' and any previous choices had probably dropped their suits the instant she was chosen as the sacrifice. There was little chance of gaining any political ground with her marriage now. Wedding her to Jaune, on the other hand ... well, that meant he'd be adding a 'hero' to the family. Given enough time, he could spin the story of her capture and what Jaune called a 'rescue' into a story worthy of telling.
She could almost hear it now. How they'd had no choice but to go through with the sacrifice, how the gods had demanded it, how Jaune had immediately come to her rescue and slain the monster trying to devour her whole. The whole thing was enough to make her gag.
"Anyway," Jaune said, interrupting her chain of thought. "Since you're engaged, he said you should wear a gown befitting a claimed woman."
"... get rid of it."
"Look Weiss, I-I'm not completely against the idea." Shifting forward, he wrapped his hand around the edge of the bed, leaving it a few inches away from her own. "I'm not saying we should, just that, well, I've admired you for a long time, and-"
"The answer to the question is no, Jaune." Grabbing the side of the wrapping, she yanked the package and the accursed gown off the bed, letting them fall to the floor with a thump. She didn't need this bullshit. Not now. Not after hearing about ... not after this.
"I think it's about time for you to leave."
"Come on, Weiss. I saved your life. Most people would think that I deserved a shot, at least."
"Not going to happen."
The pout deepened, and Jaune slumped back into the chair, a harsh note slipping into his voice. "... I suppose this is the part where you get dramatic and say you'd rather kill yourself than marry me."
"Hardly," she snapped.
"Really?" He was at her bedside in an instant, looking more like a particularly unwanted and untrained puppy than some heroic monster-hunter. "Look, Weiss, if you give me a chance, I swear I'll-"
"I have a bit more self-respect than that," she cut him off. She didn't need to hear some poorly thought-out declaration of love, some grand plan to prove just how much he cared for her, no matter her feelings towards him.
Turning to face him, Weiss could feel her hostility, her anger boiling over. For once, she didn't stop it, glowering at him with all the regal fury she could muster. This expectation that she owed him anything, hell, his mere existence ... she wanted to punch his bloody teeth in.
"Trust me, Jaune, I'll kill you before I let that happen."
The blonde boy blinked, hope fading into shock and Sighing, he stood, brushing off his new tunic and the gold clasps at his shoulders. Reaching out, he patted the side of the bed, smiling down at her in sympathy.
"I know it doesn't mean much to you now, but I promise I'll wait for you," he said, his voice soft and low. "I really do care about you, Weiss. When this thing wears off, when you come to your senses, maybe you'll see that."
Then he was gone, the door swinging shut behind him, locked by a man Weiss couldn't even see.
Again, sorry for the wait, everyone. I had a hard time getting this scene to work. Hopefully there shouldn't be much of a wait after this. I'm gonna try to crank out as much content as I can before RTX.
Chapter 8 Preview:
The amphora cracked, then shattered beneath the blows, the sound thankfully muffled by the blankets piled atop it. Carefully, she peeled the layers back. Wrapping her hand in the blanket, she grabbed the sharpest piece she could find. Sending her silent thanks to whichever god had skipped over Jaune when it came to handing out brains, she wrapped the thicker end in the blanket, and started hacking away at the knots tying her other hand to the bed.
Within a minute, she was free, swinging her feet over the side of the bed and landing cat-like on the floor. Her body complained, but no more than she expected after at least two days tied in place. Her head throbbed, but it was a far cry from how she'd felt that first day, and with a minor amount of wincing, she snuck her way over towards the door.
Please drop a review if you can! I'm really curious to hear what people thought, and constructive criticism is always welcome. Seriously. Trust me, my ego can take it.