The Schnee Manor stuck out from all the other mansions like a gleaming prison tower. The Manor itself stood silently on top of Atlas' finest neighbourhood. Not a bird chirped in its proximity. Its mere presence alone sucked the warmth out of the world. Two robotic soldiers stood on either side of its metal gate like jailors.

It wasn't too late to turn back. Father would never know she was here if she left now.

But her brother was still in there somewhere.

Weiss kept her hand on her sword and marched up to the gate, telling the guards who she was. To her surprise, they let her through without trouble. She thought Father would've ordered them to keep her out.

The iron gates closed with a heavy thud behind her, locking her in. There was no turning back now.

Her heart beat so fast she wanted to throw up upon arriving at their front doorstep. Two more guards stood in front of it. Weiss eyed the guns in their hands. Would they turn their bullets on her if she tried to escape?

The robots ignored her as she shakily reached out for the door handle. It was freezing to the touch, much like the storm that howled into her room that night–

Like the mirror that cut her face.

Like the glass that dug into her back.

Leaving red on the floor.

Red on her clothes.

Red in her hair.

Red.

Red.

Re–

Weiss closed her eyes and focused on her breathing - on the icy air biting her skin and not the memory of a storm that's haunted her since childhood. The memories didn't quiet down. It was like her entire body was warning her to turn back.

She clenched her teeth and pushed the door open. All at once, her mind went silent. Robot guards patrolled the interior in pairs. They moved as a perfect unit, heavy metal footsteps thudding rhythmically down the hall. There were even more guards here than in Atlas Academy. It was like she'd walked into a military base.

Weiss held her breath and stepped inside. The Manor was warm, but its cold metallic hues left sent a chill down her spine.

Weiss wasn't sure where to find Whitley at this hour. When he was little, he liked to frequent Mother's garden in the morning to admire their collection of animals, but she hadn't kept track of his routine for years now.

She started her search in the main floor library. When she failed to find him, she navigated towards the Dining Hall, then the Music Room, and finally, the Theatre.

Finally, she trudged upstairs where it was more likely for her to run into Father. Her hand hurt from how tightly she held her sword. The clicking of her steps echoed down the hall, announcing her presence to the entirety of the Manor.

She found her bedroom door ajar, but when she went inside it was empty. The only thing out of place was the empty slots in her bookshelves. Her giant tomb of fairytales was one of the most prominent items missing.

Feeling certain about where Whitley was, she hurried down the hall to her brother's room. Weiss knocked on the door, searching up and down the hall for any signs of Father.

"I told you I am busy! Bother me again and I will report you to Father!" Whitley's muffled voice threatened from the other side.

Weiss let herself in, shutting the door behind her and locking it for safe measure.

"That's it! You're fired–!" Her brother's response fell flat once he saw her. His sleeves were down.

Weiss couldn't remember the last time she visited Whitley's room. She always attributed his room to rainbow building blocks, mountains of teddy bears, and action figures that cost more than most houses in Atlas. Now, it was all replaced with towering bookshelves, a mahogany work desk overrun with papers, and a patterned wallpaper that belonged in an antique shop.

Everything was perfectly curated to fit Father's taste. The only personal items were her book of fairytales and sword-fighting textbooks nestled in an open suitcase on his bed.

What happened to the spoiled kid who got everything he wanted? Was it always like this?

"Why are you packing?" she asked. Was he planning on running like her?

"If you must know, Father is hosting a celebratory party after he wins tonight." Whitley walked over to the suitcase, snapping it shut. "We're going to stay in the Mantle Estate for a while. What a shame. You could've joined us if you hadn't run off with those sword-swinging barbarians.

"You've got some nerve breaking into the manor like this, Sister. What's wrong; Huntsmen school isn't as fun as you thought?"

"I came to talk to you," Weiss said. "You look sick. Are you doing…well?"

Whitley laughed darkly. "Drop the small talk, Sister. I'm not begging Father to take you back after the shame you brought to our family. You should learn there are consequences–"

"I'm sorry I left you alone with him."

Whitley studied her blankly. Weiss hated how well he'd learned to school his expression.

"You can sweet talk me all you want, Sister, but I will not help get you into Father's good graces again."

"I don't care about that. I came back because I'm worried about you."

"You must be quite desperate to return home. Unfortunately, flowery words mean nothing to me."

"Who gave you those bruises, Whitley?"

Fury flashed on his face for a brief second before it was masked with another poker face.

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about." His voice was quiet. It lost the confident edge he usually carried himself with.

"I know what I saw back at the Dust Mine." She stared at his sleeves, wondering how many new bruises hid beneath the surface.

How many injuries had she and Winter overlooked?

Whitley folded his arms behind himself and straightened his back.

"I suggest you get your eyes checked, Sister, because you seem to be seeing things."

"I know a bruise when I see one." She took a step towards him. His shoulders tensed, but he showed no signs of backing down. "I've spent my entire childhood hiding bruises. You can't fool me this easily."

"I think it's time you leave," Whitley said coldly. "You're trespassing."

"It was him, wasn't it?"

"You're talking nonsense. Father would never–"

"You've seen what he's done to me. We both know what exactly he's capable of when he's upset."

"THEN WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME HERE?!"

His outburst hit her like a slap to the face.

Weiss had no answers for him. She never had intentions of ever coming back when she left that night. As far as she knew, it was a one-way ticket out, and she took it without a second thought.

"If there's one thing I hate the most, Sister, it's a liar," Whitley went on. He'd given up all pretences of acting aloof and cool. He paced back and forth as he spoke. "I don't know what you're trying to accomplish by coming here, but you're delusional if you think I believe a single thing you say!"

"You're right, I mess up, and I'm sorry. But that's why I'm here to make things right, I–"

"Drop the act already! You don't care – you never cared! If you cared, you wouldn't have abandoned me three times! Three times, Weiss! You pretended I didn't exist because of what?!

"Because Winter didn't think I was important enough to worry about?! Because he didn't hurt me enough?! Because I can't activate my Semblance?! What did I do to make you hate me?!

"WHY SHOULD I TRUST YOU TO HELP WHEN YOU NEVER CARED?!"

Whitley stopped to catch his breath. Weiss couldn't bring herself to look at him. Everything he said was true.

She'd completely failed him. Both she and Winter left him when he needed them. Why? There was no answer to that question.

"Get out," Whitely demanded. "If you don't leave, I'll call for help."

"A-at least let me help you get out of here–"

"No! I don't want your help! I don't ever want to see you again! Just leave me alone!"

"I'm sorry..."

Weiss couldn't force Whitley to leave, but she hated the idea of leaving him alone with Father. Whether he wanted her help or not, Weiss couldn't abandon him with no way of getting out if things got worse. She couldn't fail him any more than she already had.

She ignored Whitley's angry protests when she rushed to his desk and scribbled down her number on one of the documents covering his table.

"I'm leaving you my number in case you need to escape from–"

"Get out! GET OUT! GET OUT!"

She hurried out of his room. Her eyes burned at her brother's muffled cries from behind his closed doors. Not having the courage to go in and face him again, she fled.

Her head spun, morphing the dark halls of the Manor into an endless maze. Between Winter's accusations and Whitley's pain, her thoughts were a mess. She didn't pay attention to where she was going, running aimlessly down a cold lifeless corridor.

Weiss stopped in her tracks when she came across Mother trying to pry open Father's office door. Her personal butler urged her to leave with little success.

Father's study was the one room they were all forbidden from entering. The servants were only allowed in with Father present. Even Mother went out of her way to avoid the room, at least until today.

Mother must've sensed her staring as she suddenly looked up at her. She was presentable this morning. She wore her hair in a loose ponytail, and her clean clothes hung loosely from her skeletal frame. Nothing; however, masked her ashen complexion and swollen eyes. The slight sway in her legs also told Weiss she was at the very least tipsy.

How typical.

Weiss cycled through an array of emotions as she stared back at the woman who was supposed to love her. Grief, confusion, sadness, and most of all, rage. She didn't know who her fury was directed at anymore – herself, Winter, or Mother.

"So that's why my son was screaming this morning," Mother slurred, turning her eyes back to the locked door. "I asked you to visit him, Weiss, not terrorise him."

"Your son? How can you still call him your son when you've done nothing for him?" she blurted without thinking. Even the butler recoiled at her sharp comment.

"You will not talk to your mother with that tone, young lady."

"Funny how you only remember I'm your daughter when I talk back." Weiss laughed icily. "It must be convenient to choose when you want to be a real mother."

Mother abandoned her futile attempts to open Father's office door and stumbled over to her. Weiss stood her ground and stared into her mother's eyes. They were the same height now. She didn't know when she'd stopped needing to tilt her head back to look at her.

"You don't have the right to march back into this house and disrespect me after what you did, Weiss!" Mother jammed her finger into Weiss' chest. Her breath was rancid with alcohol.

"Abandoning your family like that was disgusting. You don't even have the shame to apologise. You're just like your sister. People who turn their backs on family are the worst of the worst."

Everything Whitley had said barrelled to the forefront of her mind. Weiss was familiar with anger, she'd endured it ever since Father took her courage away, but the rage that consumed her now wanted blood. It was nothing like she'd ever experienced before, incinerating every thought and ounce of self-control that got in its way.

"You're right. I completely failed him. But you don't get to stand here and lecture me about abandoning my family when you did the same thing. Look at yourself. You're an embarrassment and a hypocrite."

"You don't know what you're talking about, Weiss! You know nothing about the shitstorm I had to endure these past few years! Now apologise to me or–"

"Or what?! You'll ground me?! You have no authority over me!"

"Watch your tone, young lady!"

"You can't tell me what to do!"

"I am your mother!"

"You're dead to me!"

Weiss caught Mother's wrist before her hand could reach her face. The drunken rage on Mother's face sobered when she saw what she did.

Good. Let her feel guilty. She deserved it.

"W-Weiss, I-"

"You're right. I don't understand what you've been through, but it doesn't change the fact that you left us – you left me when I needed you the most!

"Weren't you ever curious about how I almost died at the Mine? Didn't you ever wonder why I always had such bad nightmares?" She clenched Mother's wrist so tightly her hand shook. "How can you call me your daughter when you never loved me?"

"Of course I love you… I-I just–"

"Bullshit! If you loved me, you never would've chosen alcohol over me! And you're not the only one who's had a hard time, Mother!

"You'll never understand what it was like to grow up with a mother who pretended you never existed. You'll never know what it's like to have your face carved open by your own father!" She forced her fingers to release Mother's wrist and backed away.

Mother stared at her with a blank expression. Her bloodshot eyes trailed over Weiss' scar like it was the first time she even noticed it was there.

Father's approaching footsteps shot ice down her spine.

Weiss twisted around to face him, her sword halfway drawn. Though he stood no chance against her in a fight, she felt as powerless as the night he mutilated her face.

"I should've expected to see you here given all the yelling," he noted in an eerily calm tone.

Weiss staggered back when he drew closer. Mother watched her with a completely dazed expression.

"How did you get in here?" he interrogated. Weiss made sure to pay extra attention to where his hands were. She'd become all too familiar with how out of control his casual line of questioning could get.

"The guards let me in."

"You've got some nerve crawling back to me after the shame you've brought to this family." He glanced over at his locked office door before turning his eyes back on her – paralysing her with a single expression.

She knew that look like the back of her hand.

"Thinking of stealing my money, are you?"

"I-I took a wrong turn on my way out a-and ran into Mother."

The awful memories were just beneath the surface – she could already hear the shattering of glass over her pounding heart. One wrong step, and she'd slip right back into their grasp. She'd be at his mercy again.

"I don't appreciate being lied to underneath my roof."

Weiss pointed her sword at his chest when he stepped closer. He smiled amusedly at how badly her sword trembled in her hand. Her heart plummeted like a rock when he continued to approach her, undeterred by her sword.

He was going to kill her.

No one knew where she was. He could do whatever he wanted, and no one outside the Manor would know what happened.

Her fighting instincts screamed at her to move, but her body betrayed her. Her legs shook beneath her weight, and her sword threatened to slip between her fingers.

"She's not lying." Mother's response caught both of them off guard. For a moment, Weiss forgot how to breathe. "I bumped into her here."

Weiss lost track of how many times she wished for Mother to step in and protect her from Father's wrath. Now that it was happening, she felt nothing.

"What in the world are you doing all the way here?" Father demanded.

"I got lost." Mother shrugged, leaning against the locked door.

"Willow, you know my office is off limits. If you wanted to look for me, you could've called a servant."

"This is my house, Jacques! I can go wherever I please!"

Father stared at his office door with an unreadable expression. He turned his eyes back on Weiss again. Instinctively, she bowed her head. She almost expected him to hit her despite Mother speaking up.

"You should get back to your room and pack, dear. The pilot will be here soon."

He practically ran to his office door to peel Mother off of it. Turning to the butler, he ordered him to escort Weiss off the premise.

"Don't expect to be welcomed back to the Manor again," Father added before he left with Mother. "I'll also be sure to let the General know you pulled a sword out on an unarmed civilian."

The moment Weiss left the Manor, she ran. Her lungs and throat were on fire, but she didn't stop running. The physical discomfort was retribution for everyone she's ever hurt.

Whitley would rather endure Father's abuse than go with her. He hated her so much that being tormented by Father was better than being with her.

Was that why Adam never came back? Did he leave because her presence revolted him? She wouldn't blame him if that was the case. She wanted nothing to do with herself either.

Weiss was completely breathless when she made it back to Atlas Academy. Life continued as normal on campus. Despite dozens of soldiers on guard, the students took advantage of the beautiful weather to hang out with friends in the courtyard. They laughed and told jokes without a care in the world.

She kept her head low and hurried back to the dorm. Weiss had just about made it when someone grabbed her shoulder. Instinctively, she drew her sword and staggered back.

"H-hey! It's me!" Jaune backed away, holding his hands up. "Are you…okay?"

"I-I'm fine," she murmured, withdrawing her sword. "What are you still doing here? Don't you have plans for today?"

"Ren and Nora are on a date, and Oscar's hanging out with Ruby and Qrow today. They're visiting all some weapon stores or something," Jaune spoke so fast she could hardly keep up.

He was more fidgety than usual. He kept looking up and down the halls as if expecting to see someone watching him.

"Listen, do you mind if we talk in private for a bit?" he requested in a whisper.

"Sure…" Weiss said, caught off guard by the sudden change in tone. "I'm heading back to the dorm. Want to talk there?"

He nodded and followed her the rest of the way back, making random comments about how annoying it was to third-wheel his friends. His nonsensical chatter finally ceased when she opened the door.

She wasn't expecting to find Yang inside, slumped on Blake's empty bed. Yang leapt up with an embarrassed flush.

"S-sorry, I didn't know you were here." Weiss was about to back out of the room, but Jaune stopped her.

"I was thinking of talking to Yang too," he said. "You two are the only people I haven't asked yet – as long as Yang doesn't mind if we barge in like this."

"I-I don't care." She stared bashfully at the floor. "What do you want?"

Jaune ushered Weiss inside and slammed the door shut behind them. He locked the door and gave it a couple of experimental pushes before relaxing.

Weiss ignored Yang's curious stare and went to sit down on her bed.

"I've been doing some serious thinking about Adam and Blake," Jaune began, taking a seat on top of one of the desks.

"I talked with Ren and Nora about this already, but they said I'm overthinking. Maybe I am…but I can't stop thinking about the day they vanished and that final call. The few words we were able to make out are completely out of context, so I might not even be correct in–"

"Get to the point," Yang urged impatiently.

Jaune hesitated. He looked nervously at the locked door and answered in a whisper.

"What if they were right about Mantle, and someone tried to silence them?"

Thanks to AlexusAP, Gleaming Onyx, denewyosh, Iwr1918, and LiteralWhiteTrash for the reviews!

And when I say "not very shippy", it just means the romance is taking a backseat for more important plot elements!