Content warning for the usual emotional abuse that comes with Jacques. And also (canon-typical) physical abuse this time, because he did that thing he sometimes does where he takes on a life of his own while I'm writing and uses it to get even worse.
"Ready?"
Weiss looked up. There was the elegant wrought-iron gateway she'd passed through on that final day, not daring to hope yet that Vale would be any different. It was nothing more than an outline now, silhouetted against the shattered moon. There was the beautifully carved statue of her family sigil, overlooking the dark courtyard where she'd made Winter throw summons at her until she was too exhausted to stand, barely saying a word to her except again. She lifted her head. Faced at last the front door of her childhood home, which stood waiting for her to knock.
"I think I might be sick."
"We can leave if you want," said Blake. "This is more than anyone has the right to ask you to do."
"Well, I'm not exactly spoiled for better options. I can't sit around and wait for him to win."
"My scroll's hooked up to the mic," said Ruby, "so we'll hear everything that's going on."
Yang squeezed her shoulder. "Just shout, and we'll make this a rescue mission."
Weiss chuckled.
"I'm not kidding. I will break this door down."
She imagined it, and smiled. "I'll keep that in mind." With a shaky breath, she stepped up to the manor's threshold.
Blake grabbed her hand. "You know what he's done. You know who he is. Trust yourself."
Weiss nodded. Lifted her chin. And knocked.
It was Klein who answered, of course. That gave her time to collect herself on the way to father's office. She took deep breaths and resisted the urge to touch the front of the shawl Kali had given her, where it draped over the microphone Ruby had pinned to her undershirt. Klein must have known something was up. He kept looking at her out of the corner of his eye, though he never asked.
The hallways felt strange. Smaller than she remembered—her footsteps echoed to fill a space that had swallowed her as a child. She wondered at the door to his office, somehow transformed from malevolent beast to plain, dead wood. Still, she stopped in front of it and couldn't move. Not daring to touch it lest it come alive again.
Klein knocked for her.
"Come in."
Sweat pricked at her palms. She glanced over her shoulder, reassuring herself that the hallway had not stretched out behind her to trap her inside. Klein opened the door and flashed her an encouraging smile while he was hidden behind it. Weiss nodded to him, and stepped over the threshold.
"Well." He leaned forward at his desk and threaded his fingers together. "This is certainly a surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit?"
Still acting polite, then. Fine. She'd practiced. She could do this. "I visited a mine, while I was here."
"I heard. The foreman wasn't happy—it really is more considerate to make an appointment."
"Would an appointment have gotten me inside the mine itself?"
"Certainly not. Outside visitors are extremely disruptive, and I don't need to tell you how dangerous Dust mining can be."
"No, you don't." Weiss toyed with the end of the shawl. His eyes followed the motion, and narrowed. "I heard a lot about the mines during my time in Menagerie. I was hoping to get a better look, to personally ensure those rumors are unfounded. I know you could arrange that."
"If you're so curious, there are plenty of company reports for you to read."
"That's not enough. Blake's parents were very kind to me—the least I can do is put their concerns to rest."
He began drumming on his desk with a fingernail. "Our kingdom is under attack, Weiss. I don't have time to organize a tour for you right now."
"Oh, it doesn't need to be now. I just wanted to speak with you while I was in Atlas. I came for Doctor Polendina—I'm sure you know how skilled he is. He's been helping me reverse the atrophy in my wings."
"If it isn't urgent, then I have other business to attend to."
"Surely we could at least get some of the paperwork started? I'm hoping to spend the next break with the Belladonnas, and—"
"I was under the impression you didn't want to be anywhere near our family business. Particularly the mines."
"So you did see the interview."
"Everyone saw your little tantrum!" A palm slammed down on the surface of his desk with a sharp bang. Her heart crawled into her throat. Her hand reached up to the shawl around her shoulders, seeking comfort, and brushed over the slight lump of the microphone. She breathed in, and smiled.
There you are.
It hadn't even been difficult. That was the strangest part. After so many years living on the razor's edge of his temper, learning how to speak and how to stand and how to think to avoid it... she knew exactly how to use those instincts in reverse. To push where she knew she was supposed to shrink away. To grin when she knew he wanted her to flinch.
"This election is critical," he said—which Weiss was sure her mother would have taken as an apology. "I trust you know better than to want the White Fang running rampant in Atlas. Robyn Hill won't help James keep them in check, so I must. And yet for some reason you chose to sabotage me over childish grievances you could have brought to me directly, rather than involving the press in our business."
"You're angry."
He stared at her. "Do I really need to answer that?"
"No. I just want to know why you're still acting like this. I'm not mother. I know you only do it when you want something."
Knowing it was an act didn't make it any less unsettling when it dropped. His put-upon expression vanished, replaced with a scowl to match the fury in his eyes. "Let me be blunt, then. You've made it clear you want no more involvement with the family—so go back to Vale. I know Winter's told you the same thing. We both see which way the wind is blowing, and unless I failed in raising you more completely than I realized, it hasn't escaped your notice that Hill is losing and the conflict with the White Fang is getting uglier. Are you really so petty that you'd risk your life to be a thorn in my side?" He leaned forward. "Your... friends' lives?"
The lights flickered.
"Is that a threat?"
"It's an inevitability. If James can't contain the problem, then it will fall to the citizens of Atlas to deal with it. Some will do so strategically. Others will be... less discerning." He gave her a thin smile. "Not to mention Taurus himself seemed rather preoccupied with Miss Belladonna. I would hate to see the, ah, three of you hurt in another jealous rage."
A sharp breath hissed between her teeth. That was all it took, the slightest crack in her facade, for him to regain his footing.
"I watched the trial, you know. Simply dreadful. And to think what might have happened at the Vytal Festival, if Ozpin hadn't intervened..."
She had. Often.
"That's why I was so surprised to find that you were staying here. It seems more important to keep them away from him, but I suppose you've always had difficulty controlling your... competitive streak."
"Stop it."
"Stop what? I'm only trying to warn you. He clearly isn't stable. It's almost tragic, really. Obviously he never had anyone to help him get a grip on his temper."
"I said, stop it!"
Weiss slammed a fist on his desk. Wood splintered. Her heart roared in her ears, beating out stupid, stupid, stupid. She'd shouted at him and ruined the recording, and now it would just be more fuel to the people who already thought she was nothing more than his spoiled, unhinged pet.
He smiled benevolently. "Go back to Vale, Weiss. You were happy there. There's no reason to risk that for some foolish grudge."
"And if I don't?"
"Then I'll still win the election. I don't need anything from you—it's only a matter of time, now." She was standing, and he was leaning back in his chair, but somehow he was looking down at her and she was ten years old again, and every path led to ruin except for the one he wanted. This time, there would be no Winter bursting into the room brandishing a training saber.
This time, Weiss had a sword of her own. She had a family who loved her. And that wild temper he loved to use against her was hers, now.
She leaned across the desk. "Are you telling me it'll hurt more if I fight you?"
It took a moment for him to place the words. When he finally did, the blood drained from his face. He went perfectly, unnaturally still.
It was her turn to smile. "That doesn't scare me anymore. I know who you are, Jacques Gelé."
He slapped her.
The pain was muted—her aura had been up since she stepped inside the manor. It was the sound that stunned her. The pressure at her cheek that must have been his wedding ring. She reeled. A rush of adrenaline flooded her, and for a moment she was floating.
"You hit me," she said. Surprised, somehow—he'd never actually done that before. Hadn't needed to, when there was a whole world ready and waiting to hurt her if she stepped too far out of line. But there had always been the threat of it, hadn't there? She hadn't learned her anger from her mother.
The recording had caught it. He'd lost. He'd failed to control himself like he always told her she would, and now she had evidence that he'd hit her and he'd lost. She wasn't sure if she wanted to scream in triumph or hide in the dark and cry.
"Speak to me like that again, and I'll do worse."
"Like what?"
His face flushed scarlet. "I'm willing to let you crawl back to Beacon and play at being a Huntress. Test me, and I won't be so kind."
Weiss felt herself poised between hysterical sobbing and hysterical laughter, and tipped right. "Oh, I would love to see you try. Did you know that Professor Goodwitch hates you? That's probably my fault, I kept asking her for help when I thought you'd cut me off last fall."
"You think the damned school is what's important? I have favors everywhere, with everyone that matters, and I can make sure you and your little friends never put your names on a single mission board!"
She scoffed. "No you can't. Bandits take bounties sometimes. Are you going to bribe the mayor of every village in Saunus? Anima? How exactly are you planning to convince the Chieftain of Menagerie to forbid his daughter from doing her job, on an island with too many Grimm, where everyone hates you?"
"You're not in Menagerie now. You're in Atlas, working for a White Fang sympathizer." Some of the flush receded from his face, and a cold glint rekindled in his eyes. "James ought to know that you've been quoting Sienna Khan's speeches."
Weiss rallied herself for the next parry. "I—"
The lights went out.
Both of them froze. For an instant, the only sound was their breathing coming harsh and fast. Then, "What is this? Did you do this? If you brought them here—"
"Shut up." Weiss poked her head into the hall. It was pitch black on either side, with only a faint spot of moonlight streaming in from a window near the staircase. She inhaled. Nothing but the oil of the paintings on the walls, the ozone tang of the Dust candles, and the faint antiseptic smell of the battery of cleaning products necessary to keep so many surfaces sparkling white. All of it familiar. She grimaced.
"Security—security—damn it, get down here!"
Weiss checked her own scroll. No signal. That ruled out a simple power outage, then—someone must have attacked the grid itself and taken the CCT tower with it. Distantly, there was a loud bang, as of a door being blasted off its hinges.
"They're inside!"
"That was probably Yang." It sounded like it had come from the front, anyway. Yang must have made good on her promise the moment they stopped getting a live feed from the microphone. Weiss drew her rapier. "Where is everyone?" She could smell them, faintly, mother and Klein and Whitley, but they lived here—their scents would be everywhere, and walking through each floor to find where they were strongest could take too long.
"How should I know? We need to leave, before that maniac comes looking for me!"
"What?" She whirled on him. "Your wife and son are still in here. We have to find them before he does!"
"You want to be a Huntress so badly? Then do your job. Escort me to safety. And in exchange... I'll arrange your trip into the mines." For a long moment, all she could do was stare at him. He started to sweat. "That's what you wanted, isn't it?"
"I was wrong," she said softly. "I didn't know you. I thought you were cruel, not pathetic."
He gritted his teeth, but didn't speak—biting down on the insult now that he thought his life depended on it. "Do you want me to withdraw from the race? I could make that happen, provided you stop spreading our business all over the news."
Weiss shut her eyes, breathing hard in a futile attempt to keep her head. Crystal rang in her ears. "Mother will be in the garden. Klein... it's getting late. He'll be in his office. And Whitley..." She grimaced and looked up. "Do you know where Whitley is?"
"No." His stare was cold and flat. Unreadable. Her fingertips prickled with pins and needles.
"If you're lying to me—"
The building shuddered. Father went pale and collapsed against his desk, eyes so wide she could see whites all around the iris. Weiss clung to an armchair to keep her balance. The smell of smoke filled the air, overwhelming the subtler scents of other people elsewhere in the manor.
"Fine!" he snapped. "Fine, damn you! Get me out of here and I'll put you in the will. You'll get the company after I'm gone, like you always wanted! That's my final offer, you—"
Light erupted. A pale, spectral gauntlet gripped her father by the front of his shirt and slammed him against the wall. Weiss watched him kick and gasp, and an icy calm settled over her. "Yes. It will be your final offer. My family is in danger, and if you try to bribe me into abandoning them one more time, I will hand you to Taurus myself."
He gaped at her.
"Is that understood?"
Father closed his mouth and didn't speak. She chose to take that as assent, and the knight dropped him unceremoniously to the floor.
"You're staying with me until we find everyone else. So if you want to get out of here faster, you'll tell me where Whitley is."
"The concert hall," he muttered, sullen venom dripping from every word. "If he isn't in his room."
Weiss did a double take. "What?"
"I trust you remember where it is."
Of course she remembered the place where she'd performed for his galas. Where she'd poured out heart and soul over and over again, until there was nothing left to give the music but technical perfection, pitch-perfect notes that bounced once off those vaulted ceilings and then vanished into nothing.
Whitley didn't go in there, except for a few times when they were younger and he'd accompanied her on the piano. But father hadn't wanted them performing together. Ever since, he'd practiced in the hall.
"Why?" she demanded.
"How should I know? Are you going to leave me in here until Taurus finds us?" He jabbed a shaky finger at her. "If anything happens to me, everyone will know you were here. They'll wonder why you let me die. If you really aren't involved with those beasts, it's time to prove it."
Weiss pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm not planning to let him kill you," she muttered. "But you're welcome to keep talking and see if you can change my mind."