"This is an extremely stupid idea," Blake stated as she fastened her blade-laden belts around her hips.
Yang observed herself with a hand-mirror. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said, muffled through the bandages that covered her face. "You're a genius."
Blake rolled her eyes, which was the only expression visible past her matching cover of cloth strips. That was probably for the best since it hid the violet blush over her cheeks. "Shut up and open your cloak."
Yang's dirty smile visibly pulled her bandages. "Oh, yeah? Already?"
"Shut up!" Blake hissed, turning away. "I was drunk. Humans aren't my thing."
Yang chuckled and opened her cloak wide, displaying the rudimentary leathers Blake had loaned her. Being Blake's size, they hugged her much too tight— a fact which Yang seemed to know all too well. "Well?" The Huntress urged. "Did you just wanna peek, or are you gonna do something?"
Bake tried her best to not stare at the woman she'd shared a night with— Yang might see the terror creeping into her eyes if she did.
The fay clenched her hands tight and crossed the room, then searched through her things until she extracted a wooden tube with brass caps on each end. It sported a brass inlay with unique, but familiar designs; straight lines and volute curls, interspersed with a multitude of dots that resembled Blake's tattoos. Yang pointed to it curiously. "Uh, what—"
Blake held up a fist to silence her, then slowly removed the cap from one end. She gingerly reached into the hollow cylinder, and pulled out a single metal circle. She kept pulling, and another circle followed, interlinked with the first, but this one was black and mottled— cast-iron. Yang's eyebrows rose as Blake kept pulling and pulling, revealing more links of what was clearly a chain. It was about half a handspan wide, but at least a couple meters long by the time Blake had fished it fully from its impossibly small container.
The object sagged in her hands. Yang took note that the fay tried her best to avoid the cast-iron links. "A chain?" The Huntress asked dumbly, unsure of what else there was to say.
Blake gave her a grim nod. "Yes. A chain. My chain."
Yang watched the fay approach cautiously, then proceed to wrap it around Yang's waist. "Woah, woah, hey!" Yang protested, threatening to push the girl back.
Blake's amber eyes snapped up to Yang's, making her mouth clap shut. Blake continued to encircle the Huntress' hips with the strange links of alternating iron. When she was finally finished, she spoke. "Don't take this the wrong way, Yang. It's for Ruby's sake, okay?"
"Huh?" Yang shook her head, genuinely dumbfounded. "How am I supposed to take it?"
"It's my chain, Yang," Blake explained, as if that was at all clarifying. "I'm bound."
Yang looked between her link-laden hips and her… bedmate, for lack of a better term. "Uh, yeah. Of course. Bound. I'll, uh, take good care. Of it— the chain. Yeah. I… appreciate it?"
Blake gave her an empty stare, then a defeated sigh. "Crook and cane, what kind of backwater bumpkins raised you two?"
"Hey!" Yang bit back. "My dad is not a bumpkin. He is a Huntsman!"
"Yeah, well your sister thinks the world has edges."
"It doesn't?" Yang exclaimed, making Blake recoil.
Blake's hand loudly slapped over her face. She groaned. "Guess I walked into that. Whatever, that doesn't matter!" She reached out and pinched a link of forged iron between her fingers, lifting it. With her other hand she lifted her sleeve, and held the link to her scars. The shape was remarkably similar. "Binders, Yang! Do you really know nothing of your own history?"
"I can't fucking read!" Yang declared. "How am I supposed to learn history!"
Blake dropped the link and turned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Fine. Whatever. I'll explain it on the way. Just… come on."
Weiss made a show of struggling to sit in her frumpy, outdated antique of a dress. Willow Schnee, the only other person at the unreasonably large dinner table, gave her a distasteful grimace.
"Weiss," she hissed, "what in the Shepard's name are you wearing?"
The heiress in question straightened up innocently, but responded with a steel tongue. "Mother, sober enough to speak tonight?"
"You ungrateful—" the great doors to the dining hall began to creak and groan, heralding an additional guest. Willow's mouth snapped shut.
Port stepped through first, ever the first to lend his voice, even when nobody was asking him to. He bowed before those at the table, then gestured theatrically behind himself. "My ladies Schnee, your guest: Lord William Winchester— heir to the great House Winchester, Commander of the Blooded Cataphracts, unfettered of soul, blessed by the Watcher, born under the Crown of Flame, master of the pollax, champion of the first Vale Tourney, and lord of six iron bastions in The Palest Rift."
Weiss couldn't stop the impressed quirk of her pale brow. Such grand lists were usually just packed with meaningless titles meant to inflate the egos to which they were attached, but six bastions in the fay? One was an expectation, three was a bragging right, but six? That was a spit in the face of the decadent shim, and in The Palest Rift as well. From what she remembered, mainly from word of mouth and some uncollated map pieces, that was quite near their old capital. Six bastions arrayed in claustrophobic proximity to such a significant location… were they enacting an embargo, or preparing for a siege? Would their peace even last a century?
Weiss was forced from her thoughts when William loudly pulled a chair from under the table, having batted away a servant just to do it himself. He sat straight across from Weiss, his eyes locked firmly on her— no, past her. Through her.
William Winchester was a man whose lot in life rested solely on the battlefield, this much she could see with only a passing glance. His face was thoroughly decorated with scars, old and new, twisting and pulling the flesh of his forehead, jaw, and lips. His outfit was cut with regality, but he seemed completely separate from it, like an animal squeezed into human clothes. He fidgeted and adjusted his stiff leather jerkin, which was bleached white and worn over a doublet of autumnal coloration— orange sleeves, slashed to display the bright yellow cloth beneath.
It would be a handsome ensemble on anyone else, but on William, it only highlighted her earlier image of him. Here was someone who had skewered and battered men to death, completely disregarding the tourney etiquette she had expected. She didn't know how he had won the tourney, but she could only hope it had been miraculously bloodless.
The tournament— Ruby! Oh gods, if William was here, that meant…
"So, Lord Winchester," Willow's cold voice cracked over Weiss' thoughts like a chill wind, "Forgive our absence from your last match, but how was it? I imagine it was another riveting victory?"
William shrugged. "A victory is a victory. I only regret that Ser Wukong did not last very long. He was a creative opponent, but clearly had no experience with men of my stamina. Perhaps he expected me to be a clumsy oaf. If he recovers, I hope he will find me once more— give me a proper taste of his skill."
Weiss watched his eyes glimmer slightly, as though the thought of combat was the only thing that livened him.
"A true shame about that Rupert fellow," he noted, then took a hefty gulp of the wine they'd been brought. "He seemed of particular skill."
Willow waved a dismissive hand, while the other brought a swill of wine to her lips. "You needn't worry about him."
The bundle of anxiety that had been sitting in Weiss' gut only expanded. She was extremely worried about Ruby, and the vagueness with which the two spoke only spurred her paranoia. Desperate to move away and execute her plan, she pushed her fear down and summoned her airiest, most doting voice. "William, did you—"
William didn't even turn to look, he remained solely focused on Weiss' mother. "I saw Knight Captain Pyrrha have him carried away. That was on your husband's command, I imagine. Tell me, what gave you the right to deprive me of my battle?"
The anxious knots within Weiss whirled and twisted uncontrollably, both tangling and untangling simultaneously. Ruby was alive, taken away by Ser Nikos. They must have entrapped her at the tournament— that was how William had won a round early. They'd pushed him out to wed her as soon as possible, before the rumors could spread to the nobility. But why would they take Ruby alive? If they suspected her of 'sullying royal purity', they could have just executed her on the spot. Such quick action would be much more effective than a drawn-out trial.
But if she was alive, where would Ser Nikos take her? Vale had its own dungeons, and if Nikos had personally escorted her away, the only place she could take such a prisoner would be… here. Under her feet, separated by several feet of dirt and stone.
Ruby was alive, and here. If Weiss weren't so painfully enamored with the girl, she might be tempted to kiss William for revealing this to her. All she had to do now was play along, find some opportunity to slip out. Crook and cane, she might even belay the waiting— if things didn't go well, she would create an opportunity.
For now, though, she would wait for William to finish lampooning her mother. It gave her more time to think.
"E-excuse me?" Willow spoke with genuine surprise. She was not used to being questioned. "We are the royal authority here, Ser Winchester. We have the right."
William leaned back in his chair, making the seat groan under his considerable weight. He crossed his arms before him, developing a bored expression. "You may have imperium, but Winchester will always hold local authority. What you have done was a slight to me and my family, make no mistake, Willow Schnee."
Willow did not shrink from the threat, but Weiss could see how shaken he had made her. She refused to lift her wine glass, probably because that would show her shaking hand. They were alone with a man who had just threatened them, one who had just bested some of the greatest warriors in the city of Vale.
"And where is your patriarch?" William questioned, looking around. "Am I not worthy of James— oh, apologies, Jacques Schnee's attention?"
"He is, er," Willow briefly floundered, the word escaping her. "Indisposed."
William loudly skewered his food, making Weiss jump. She had forgotten they were at dinner. "Indisposed," he growled, "I wonder what that could mean."
"Lord Schnee's business is his own," Willow stated.
The Winchester blinked, unimpressed. "Let me guess— he's giving a stern talk to the one he caught cavorting with these used goods?"
Weiss recoiled as he jerked a thumb towards her, the sudden barb stabbing deeper than it had any right to. She and Willow shared a look of intense shock.
"Lord Winchester," Willow hissed, "need I remind you, that is to be your—"
William sharply lifted a hand. "Little Weiss is to be nothing of mine. She was to be Cardin's, but even that whelp deserves better than this… broodmare."
Weiss audibly gasped, scandalized. "Broo—"
It was when Willow's sharp glare silenced her objections, that Weiss realized her plan had come completely undone. She was going to make a fool of herself, somebody so unpalatable that any suitor would run to the hills, but that depended entirely on her suitor actually having some interest. William was completely immune, apparently. She was left silently bearing the dismissive, disgusted energy from William in tandem with her mother's rage and betrayal.
Thankfully, the door suddenly burst open, thrown wide by a panicked guard. The thick, oppressive energy of the room drained out into the hall, replaced by the guards pervading fear.
"Intruders in the palace!" He shouted into the dining hall. "Follow me, I will get you to—"
Without so much as a second glance, Weiss bolted.
AN: sorry i took a million years on this one again, gf got covid so ive been taking care of her. shes finally well enough to edit.
sucks this is ending soon lol, i really like the world. maybe itll get a sequel after twilight concerto, but i was also thinking of a mecha AU...
in other news, i really hope yall like twilight concerto. its a blast to write, im loving this new, disheveled fuck that is TC!Ruby. poor girl. oh and there's gonna be an extremely important oc who gets their own pov parts that will be mostly detached from the main story, like a window into what the white fang is doing over the course of the story, kinda. haha. theyre a swan faunus :) oh and they wont be romantically attached to any of the main cast lmao, i know how much i hate when that kinda thing happens so im just easing your fears.
anyway, yeah, im waffling now. i love writing, y'all. thanks for all the love and comments, it really means a ton to me, more than i ever expected it to lol