"Weiss."

The girl in question jumped— had he seen her? Did he know she'd used her magic at the tourney? That she cheated?That Neptune lost because shewas obsessedwith this stupid boy?

"Crook and cane, girl," Jacques drawled. "Don't be so paranoid. Just eat your damn food, you'll never bear children as skinny as you are."

Weiss tried her best not to relax too visibly. "Y-yes, father."

Jacques stared at her, but continued silently shoveling forkfuls into his mouth.

Weiss followed his example, lancing a few pieces of chicken with her fork before filling her gob. It was beautifully cooked, if a little under seasoned. She broke off a piece of her toasted bread as well, daring to dip it in the small bowl of rich brown gravy before taking a bite. It was delicious, the savory gravy perfectly complemented the herbs of the seasoned bread, creating a flav—

"Eat like a woman, Weiss," Willow said, her words melting around a drunken slur. "You're not a peasant."

Weiss felt anger immediately rise in her gut. Oh, now she deigns it necessary to speak? The hell was wrong with gravyand toast?"I'm sorry?"

Jacques nodded. "You should be, your husband will think you're a farm-bred sow if he sees you mixing your food like a curious child." He dipped his own toast in his gravy, then took a huge bite.

"But you just—"

"Heis the lord of this house, and hemay do as he wishes!" Willow loudly insisted, interrupting Weiss. "You will understand. Your husband will ensurethat you do."

Weiss stared at her mother with wide eyes. She didn't know what to make of that threat, but it made her feel terrible regardless. Would Rupert really treat her so terribly? He was clearly of lowborn descent, and fay-blooded at that— did that make him betterthan the others? Or worse?

"Eat your food, girl," Jacques commanded.

Weiss closed her bedroom door behind her, then leaned up against it. She slid down the wooden slab, all the way down until she slumped onto the floor. She hugged her knees close to her chest.

She caught her mirror across the room, perfectly angled to give her a view of the corpse slumped against her bedroom door. It stared back with empty cyan eyes and a dead expression. It was nothing more than skin and bones, its papyrus skin pulled tight against every fiber of its being. Its hair was bone-white, frayed and frizzy, looking brittle enough to shatter with a touch.

Weiss forced her eyes away from her ghoulish reflection, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill forth. How much longer would she live like this?

She wanted someone to save her— to burst through her window and scoop her into their arms and whisk her away. Someone with crimson-tipped ebony hair and shining silver eyes.

Weiss slapped herself— she didn't need to be saved, this was all heridea! She just needed to hold out, survive until the tourney was over, then give the champion a few weeks of lip service before tossing him away. There was no way father could assemble another tourney as quickly as he did this one. He'd surely exhausted most of his goodwill by inviting so many nobles into his game, especially the Winchesters.

She'd have time to herself, just her and Myrtenaster. No suitors. No Rupert.

Weiss smacked herself again, hard, as if she could rattle the intrusive thought out of her head. Rupert was just a boy, and as much of a tool to her as she was to her parents. She could appease him with a few dinners, maybe a promenade. Yes… a promenade would be nice. She could imagine those dark locks blowing in the wind, the sun shining in his—

"Argh!" Weiss grunted, slapping her palms over her ears. That bastard tortured her! Every other thought was tainted by his memory! His hair, his face, his scars, his lips, taunting her! She was going mad— he was driving her mad. When she finally had him in her pale clutches, there would be hellto pay.

Weiss' eyes drifted to her wardrobe, where her weapon lay sheathed behind her sleep garments. Something bubbled up in her mind; a fetid, frothy idea born purely from the mental ooze of desperation.

She shook her head, then smacked herself for good measure. She couldn'tdo that! Somebody would catch her! She would be alone!It would be dangerous! She wouldn't let Rupert the Red, of all people, hold such sway on her mind. She wouldn't let anybody have so much influence that she would even think of—

Dropping onto the grass with a huff, Weiss looked over both shoulders. The emerald glow around her fingertips faded, and the lattice of ivy behind her retreated from the palace garden's wrought-iron fence.

What under the Watcher's gaze was she doing?

Weiss looked back, but it was much too late now. That spell had taken a lot out of her, and to return home now would only draw her father's ire. She'd have to be careful, and conserve her energy. The illusory glyph of herself would only last as long as she could maintain it.

Weiss pulled her dark cloak tight around her, then did the same with her hood. Myrtenaster sat at her hip, the weight unfamiliar; she'd only ever carried it to and from duels, never worn it. She was lucky her old riding outfit still fit— she'd hate to have gone out in a dress, cloak, and sword.

Weiss shuffled away from the palace, her wary gaze on the setting sun. If she wanted to find Rupert, she would have to do it quickly.

Weiss took a wide berth into the city— she knew the main roads would be regularly patrolled. Thankfully Vale and Palace Schnee weren't too distant; the latter had been built when the former was just a hamlet, giving the city plenty of time to expand into the urban sprawl it was now. As it was, getting there didn't even take an hour. Before long Weiss' boots clomped against stone bricks instead of verdant grass.

Weiss kept her cloak tight about her as she entered the city, one hand resting on the rapier underneath. For the first time, she was well and truly alone. The notion coldly gripped her heart.

Regardless, Weiss didn't have time to waste being afraid; she had a purpose here.

She suspected that Rupert was staying close to the market square, mostly judging by his place in the stands: he was always there before Weiss arrived, and always in a seat that would've been crowded if he'd arrived later. Probably at an inn, as well. Weiss had a picture in her head of a rugged adventurer, and those slept in dingy inns. Her nose crinkled at the idea.

Weiss sighed, trudging on.

AN: shes finally free, a free bird :D this will surely end well