Apocrypha: The Red Reaper & the Snow Princess

Pyrrha was a blessed child since the day she was born.

A loving family with plenty of money, the best education said money could buy and the talent to make full use of that education. But despite all of it, Pyrrha had been unfathomably miserable during most of her early life. Not depressed, she neither had a chronic condition nor any real daily tragedy to warrant the condition. No, What she suffered from was an agonizing sense of ennui and boredom. She was just so much better than everyone that, in the end, she rapidly outpaced her peers and became isolated. All she had for relationships were suck-ups and bitter rivals who hated her for being so perfect. She had no hobbies since her studies were just taking up all of her time. Life was unbearably Dull. But then... Then she found it. the one thing that put colour in her life.

The Arena.

One long day of being praised for something that was just so easy for her, she and her family had been invited by investors to watch Mistral's 41st Gladiatorial Tournament. She watched as men and women fought with all their might, sweating, crying and bleeding, all for the sake of glory and riches. The thunderous cheer of the crowd shaking the ground had scared her initially but once she got used to it, it became intoxicating. She watched as the greatest of them all, an old veteran of twenty years, won his final bout against a man thirty years his junior. She saw as he hugged the crying man, lifting his arm in the air and the whole crowd cheered for the both of them. The old man may have won, but he left the life behind without regret, knowing that such a talented young man would take his place next time. She saw the comradery, the good-hearted rivalry, the sportsmanship.

She craved that for herself.

And so, with some convincing, her mother and father let her take combat classes once she had finished elementary school and was sent to Sanctum Academy. As expected, she aced the theoretical classes but, to her joy, the practical portions gave her a challenge she wasn't used to. She had never fought before in her life and she was absolutely trounced in her very first bout. When all someone knows is victory and ease, many either break down or give up. Not Pyrrha Nikos.

She remembered how happy she was, and the massive grin that was plastered on her bloodied face.

Three years passed in a flash and from the bottom of the class, she rose to the top. But she couldn't wait anymore. She kept badgering any authority figure to let her fight in the arena despite their assurance that she wasn't ready. Still, eventually, they caved to her persistence. As soon as she had the OK from both her teachers and her parents, she threw herself into the arena. An up-and-coming prodigy of 14 years of age fought in the Mistral Arena. Many bet against her, thinking that although she might get far in the amateur bracket, she'd get wiped out by an actual fighter.

What a shock it was then, that the bruised and battered girl with a broken arm and multiple fractured ribs ended up winning the whole tournament.

And like that, the attitude surrounding her completely changed and many began to hail Pyrrha as a champion. But despite her growing pride, she wasn't arrogant enough to completely believe the praise being heaped on top of her. It took her three years of rigorous training at the best combat school in the kingdom but above all, her passion for the sport made her watch countless hours of previous matches and tournaments. It took every tool that had been at her disposal, as well as the love and support of her family, to win this gruelling endeavour.

But as with all things do with time, even it began to lose its lustre.

She never stopped loving the arena, heck, she kept fighting for four tournaments in a row and won each time. Luckily for her, each and every time, they made her work for it. She has never had a truly easy fight, there were always those with strange gimmicks that caught her off guard but those weren't the ones that gave her the most trouble.

It was those who had been just like her.

People who, for the lack of a better term, were born fighters. People who were made to be in the arena. She wasn't invincible because no one could touch her, plenty of good hits slipped through her defences. No, she was invincible because she never lost a fight, no matter how battered and bruised she was, no matter how many broken bones she had at any moment, she refused to fall, refused to lose. She fought tooth and nail to keep that title and she never stopped improving.

But eventually, she had to take a break from the incredible behind-the-scenes nonsense plaguing her.

Truth be told, the whole becoming a huntress thing had been a ploy to piss off her overbearing agent, the very same who railroaded her into accepting a sponsorship deal with MillerGrains, the food conglomerate that owns and distributes the infamous Pumpkin Pete Oats and Marshmallow cereal. Not because of the sponsorship itself, ever since the second tournament, she has had many sponsors, although they were more geared toward education and the sport itself. You know, branded school supplies and gladiatorial training gear.

No, she became a huntress because she personally couldn't stand her bitchy agent and wanted to get back at her.

So she joined Beacon Academy on a whim using her transcripts from Sanctum and her background as a professional fighter to get in. She expected the whole training program to be just as easy as everything she had done up to that point since she had real combat experience under her belt which, to her at least, would give her an edge against her fellow trainees. Besides, even if nothing interesting happens, she'll probably graduate early and get to add Huntswoman to her long resume and lists of titles when she returns to the ring.

What she hadn't expected was for that school to give her something far, far beyond her wildest expectations.

The opportunity to make genuine connections, make friends and fall in love. with some goofy doofus, no less!

Along with said goof, she had made equally strange but lovely friends that she'd keep close to her heart forever. And not just her darling team but RWBY and Anon as well. In just a few months, she had made her first friends, and most probably friends for life.

But it was all nearly ripped away by an age-old conspiracy that saw the place where she had met those beautiful souls. The moment she had left the city and truly saw the scale of the carnage, she wept. Wept for all those innocent lives who had been lost to the fires of hate, wept for the survivors whose lives were uprooted and ruined, wept for the man who had helped her find love, whose death and return still hurt her.

But no one had been hurting more than poor Ruby.

It all started a week after they had departed from Patch, after some troubles with the boatmen categorically refusing to allow Nora's van on board and the resultant bribing to shut them up, they had finally arrived on the continent of Anima. Everything started out pretty good, they found small-time contracts to keep them busy and fatten their pockets while they travelled all the way to Mistral City. But as time went on and they settled into their new routines, Pyrrha noticed that Ruby always looked tired, even when they didn't camp and stayed at friendly inns. It didn't affect her performance during the occasional combat encounter but both she and Ren had noticed that she was acting odd. Jaune, the lovable yet blunt oaf that he was, had directly asked her if she needed help but she rebuffed him every time.

"I'm fine, guys." she would say, with heavy dark bags under her eyes.

She clearly wasn't and it showed. No one knew what she was doing but it was clear she was doing something instead of sleeping.

But one bright night, lit by the broken moon, Pyrrha had finally found out what she had been doing all this time.

The night was cold and damp from the day of rain but they had no choice but to camp. The next town was at least a day over and the road was far too ugly to ride on in the dark. That was a surefire way to crash the van and lose their one mean of high-speed transport. That and Nora would be irreconcilable for a few days at the least. A light fog surrounded the campfire as she and her partner slept in the tent.

Nora slept in the van, always. And where Nora went, Ren had to go whether he wanted to or not.

Sleeping so close to Jaune was usually not that embarrassing, considering there was usually someone to break up the intimacy of two people sharing a room. Back at Beacon, it was Ren and Nora and now it was Ruby. But she wasn't there and Pyrrha felt so self-conscious, she couldn't sleep.

He was just... So cute in that stupid adorable onesie.

She left the tent, red in the face from staring at Jaune's adorable snoring, sleeping face for too long. Her first order of business was to find out what the heck Ruby was up to, since this was at least the third time she was missing. But before she did, she checked up on Ren and Nora. She opened the back doors of the van as quietly as she could and smiled at the sight. Both were snuggled up close in the back of the van, surrounded by their luggage. Ren was wrapped up in their shared blanket but, to keep warm, Nora was holding onto Ren like a body pillow.

It was, admittedly, very cute.

Pyrrha quietly shut the door and checked the fire. Every time the red reaper was up at night, she'd busy herself by keeping the campfire alight but this time, all that was left were embers. Pyrrha looked around the immediate area but came up with nothing. That was, until her trained ear recognized the semi-distant sound of a steel blade cutting through the air.

In a small clearing just away from the campsite was Ruby, swinging her scythe and trying out aerial tricks. Pyrrha reflexively cringed, bad memories from Sanctum, where an especially strict and joyless instructor had beaten her to a pulp to prove a point about mobility in combat and always having good footwork. It was a bittersweet memory, considering the teacher was an honest and hardworking man who was, sadly, no longer among the living.

He was still WAY too strict, but Pyrrha would never say it out loud for fear of karma.

Ruby flew through the air on red rose petals, her scythe cutting through the falling leaves as she descended upside down. She landed without a sound, countless split leaves lying at her feet. She panted heavily, her eyes watering at the prologued exertion as her brow swam in sweat. Pyrrha remained unseen as she observed her friend and temporary teammate, whether because of the cover of night or from Ruby's tiredness blinding her. Ruby groaned as she sat down against a tree.

Her scroll fell into her hand as she checked the time, her eyes so tired and sad. She listlessly swiped her thumb across the screen, her eyes finally landing on her picture album. She finally smiled for the first time in almost a week. She looked back nostalgically at the photos of the past.

The day before she and Yang left for Beacon, their first night at Beacon, their first group photo as a team...

She stopped, her smile faltering as she lingered on a photo of a hopeless Hope being forced to take a group picture with everyone from JNPR and RWBY. His fake smile and his annoyed glare at Yang, who held him still in a headlock, reminded her of how different he used to be. His skeletal frame and tired eyes reminded Ruby of that dark day when he laid his feelings bare to them, but also the next day when the darkness over his soul lightened. She changed picture, this time of his schematics he asked her to modify to create Morrigan. Her smile returned, the project having been the highlight of the semester break for her. The massive rifle had been a joy to create, especially considering it was commissioned by her best friend.

It still stung that it was destroyed beyond any attempt at repair, but she was glad that it had been of use to Hope.

She kept looking back at proofs of the past, of happier days gone by. The Investigation, the Vytal dance and the Festival itself. But the more she looked back, the more her heart ached. Tears began falling down her face as she looked at a picture of a smiling, bandaged-up Hope taking a selfie with her. She remembered how warm he was, how easy it had been before to show physical affection back before she realized her own feelings.

"Anon..." she mumbled through her tears.

Soon enough, she came to her favourite picture. A group shot of RWBY, all huddle up close to Hope. The rivers her tears dug into her face flooded over as she hugged her legs, bundling herself in her cloak like a sad cocoon.

The rustling of leaves startled the sad rose into a fighting stance, thinking that her sorrow may have attracted a rogue Grimm but to her surprise, the Gladiatrix stood at the edge of the clearing wearing an empathetic frown. Ruby put her scythe away with a sigh, her heart rate slowing down.

"Hey Pyrrha..." she greeted tiredly, with an equally exhausted smile.

Pyrrha said nothing as she approached the red reaper.

"Do you need something-"

Before Ruby could finish, her red-headed friend locked her in a hug. Ruby blinked several times, trying her hardest to hold back tears at the sudden burst of affection.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, her voice almost breaking.

"You're not well, Ruby," Pyrrha said bluntly. "But I'm here for you. We all are."

Ruby kept blinking but her tears began flowing anew. So few words, a simple phrase that made her weary defences crumble. She hugged the tall gladiatrix back, hiccuping as her sorrow was laid bare.

"I miss my team," Ruby admitted. "I want us to be together again."

"I understand," Pyrrha reassured.

"I miss Anon."

"I know."

The two girls held each other, the older girl doing her best to be there for her shorter friend in her time of need. Ruby was a simple girl, with simple desires. Sadly, her desires were much harder to satisfy now than before. All she wanted right now was to be with her teammates and crush, but they were all far, far away from her. Luckily she wasn't alone but despite having companions on her journey to Mistral, something she was deeply grateful for, the loneliness was crushing.

She missed Yang, she missed Blake, she missed Weiss.

She missed Anon.

And nothing would heal the pain in her heart until she was reunited with them all.

Pyrrha began gently petting Ruby's head, hoping that this act of affection would help the younger girl calm down.

"It's ok, Ruby. I know you guys are going to be together again."

Ruby nodded in the now damp crook of Pyrrha's neck.

"God, I hope you're right... It feels so wrong to not have them around... I want my team back... I want Anon back..."

"You will," Pyrrha reassured as she cuddled with the sad rose. "You'll be together again. Just give it time."

"It's so lonely... Even with you..."

Pyrrha nodded. It hurt a little bit to hear, but she understood. If the roles were reversed, she'd feel lonely as well.

"I know."

Pyrrha Nikos was a blessed child since the day she was born but she never had any friends before coming to Beacon. Now, she did and all she wanted to do was to be there for her friend in her time of need.

Atlas, the sky-bound city.

A city which rested on the back of a Sky Engine whose secret to its creation and creator have been forgotten by time despite its relative youth, the city itself only existed as far back as the Vytal Treaty. Many found the place marvellous, its clean and orderly layout, efficient roads and sidewalks, and incredibly advanced technology allowing for a comfortable living for even the least wealthy residents...

To Weiss, it was a gilded marble cage suspended above the world.

To her, it was a holier-than-thou pit of snobs and bastards, of neo-nobility and corporate rats in a race to drain the world and its people out of every ounce of use and resources possible. It was the place of her birth into an ancient family line of nobles turned corporate magnates, one where love and care were rare and deeply underappreciated.

It was her home, cold and frigid like the snowy tundras below.

Weiss stood atop a large, mostly empty stage inside of one of Atlas's most lavish opera houses, wearing a simple long, slit blue-grey gradient dress with a jewelled collar. the only other thing adorning her was her rapier, Myrtenaster. Ever since the Fall, her weapon never left her side and she would not stand for anyone telling her to leave it home.

Besides, she had all of her permits and licences, so what's their excuse for telling her no?

She looked around the stage, seeing the crowd of black silhouettes all sitting in the opera house's balconies. Among them was her family, separated between two balconies. On the left one was her father, Jacque Gele-Schnee, her mother, Willow Schnee and Jacque's bastard son, Whitley Gele. Despite being on the same balcony, Willow and Jacque seemed to be miles apart even as they both sat in the middle of the balcony. It was as if an invisible wall kept them separated. Whitley stood by his father's side, an eternal and vapid smile on his lips contrasting slightly slanted eyes that betrayed his utter contempt for everything and everyone that wasn't his father and mother. On the second balcony was her dearest sister, Winter Schnee, accompanied by General James Ironwood.

Weiss, tired from a long day of singing for the vacuous crowd of Atlas' upper crust, mentally sighed with relief as the final verse came. Her voice was full of scorn and passion despite her mental fatigue, one last push toward the finish line

"I'm not your pet,/not another thing you own.

I was not born guilty of your crimes!/Your riches and your influence can't hold me anymore!"

She glared at the people who birthed her, her eyes full of bile and resentment meeting their callous indifference as her cry of defiance was ignored.

"I won't be possessed,/burdened by your royal test!
I will not surrender,/This life is mine!"

She finished the verse with one last flourish, her arms waving outward as the spotlights died. The opera house drowned in rancorous applause as the lights of the room slowly faded in. She looked to the balconies where she saw her parents clapping out of obligation, rather than because they found their daughter's song was truly worth any honest praise. Meanwhile, Whitley kept smiling as he slowly clapped, the same look of unearned superiority about him. She rolled her eyes, unimpressed by her half-brother. She quickly changed targets and smiled as she saw her sister give the snow princess a standing ovation. To her surprise, the general followed suit with his subordinate and clapped with a soft smile. She gave a deep curtsy before leaving the stage through the back.

...

The afterparty was, as she had expected, really not to her taste. the only things that made it bearable were the soft piano music and the champagne in her glass. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn't touch the stuff as alcohol had a distinct burn and ethanol taste that she absolutely hated. That and the loss of control over oneself when overindulging... She simply hated the concept.

That and what the swill had done to a certain someone in her family reinforced her feelings on the matter just a smidge.

Weiss sighed.

'No point in thinking about that.'

She took a sip and immediately regretted it, as the bubbles coupled with the ethanol burn combined into a rash-like sensation in the back of her throat. She didn't like soda to start but even effervescent sugar water would be better than this overpriced flute of gone-off grape juice. Her face puckered in disgust but she pushed through, leaving her spot to look at the art. She wandered around the place, looking at the paintings and sculptures. She sighed in annoyance, having wandered towards the abstract modern art sections. Metal and stone sculptures forming interesting shapes, abstract paintings that seemed to represent nothing in particular other than shapes and colours...

It was classier and less... physically disgusting and unsanitary than a certain museum of modern art that she had the unfortunate obligation to go to, once upon a time.

She stopped once she had arrived at the neo-classical section, where paintings and sculptures of the modern era, made in the style of the old masters, rested. One in particular kept her attention, a recent sculpture made to honour the fallen soldiers of Atlas. It was a metal statue of two soldiers saluting each other, one was a stalwart dehydrated corpse in full Atlas military uniform while the other was a grieving woman in a dress uniform. The plaque at the base simply said "Live for me, Sister." Weiss lingered in front of the statue, her eyes glassy. She downed her champagne flute with a disgruntled sigh, the dry champagne tasting awful, but far better than the bitter aftertaste of a resurgent memory. She hated it here. She was in an opulent opera art house, having a charity party while the people she had been forced to leave behind were busy fighting and taking back Vale.

To take back the city whose fall her brother had given up his life to try and prevent and when that failed, to save as many as he could.

She heard the vapid chatter of the partygoers, their praise of different art pieces, their pretentious analysis of the more abstract works. she could hardly stand it, but they were useless rich yuppies whose money was actually being used to do some good. It was for the Vale Reclamation Fund, a charity that General Ironwood himself had invested in when the greater Atlas Military Council rejected his proposal to mount a full reclamation of Vale after the Fall. The charity was used to buy and send food, and ammunition and fund mercenary expeditions to help the Vale Defenders' efforts to push back the Grimms that now nested inside the walls of the once great capital of the kingdom.

It was the only reason she had accepted to sing at the concert, let alone show up.

Her skin began to crawl as she heard her father close by, talking to some guy in a suit that cost more than a house and his equally garishly dressed wife.

"How many times must this argument be made?" Jacque asked tiredly. "I've no reason to deny my workers performance bonuses based on race. I've already set the wages per position held to be the same across the board for simplicity's sake, why would I bother telling them no when that would mean that they don't work for me?"

"It's less an argument and more that I'm... Baffled, is all." the businessman admitted. "I mean, you could save so much money by just not doing that!"

Jacque rolled his eyes.

"Please, I've no reason to bother with that considering how well we are doing. We're up seventeen percent this quarter, and all of that is due to the Fall of Vale skyrocketing our ammunition and energy cells sales."

The man's wife scoffed.

"I'm more baffled by why you would let those lowlives move from Mantle to here, they'd just sully the streets and cause trouble!"

Weiss let out a disgusted groan at that comment. Once more, Jacque sighed, wondering why he was even bothering to explain his plans to someone so shortsighted.

"They live here, they don't have to take the sky-lift or a bullhead every day to come to work," he explained slowly. "They save themselves the energy to move every day, using it on work instead, and transport fees, which they instead use on our products and they save us time and headaches by always being within arms reach in case of unforeseen problems arising such as production chain malfunctions."

He nodded pridefully.

"It was thought out quite well, if you'll permit me to toot my own horn."

Weiss snarled antipathetically.

'Right, brag more, you worthless fuck.'

She sighed as she gave her empty glass to a passing butler. He offered her another glass but she refused.

"I've had enough to drink for a long, long time."

He nodded before leaving, ironically, towards someone who would gladly have another ten glasses. Weiss's mother was morose as she glared at a painting of a naked man and woman frolicking lovingly in a field of thornless roses. The small plaque attached to the frame read "Our love, blossomed." She sneered before taking one of the flutes from the butler, downing it, and taking another. She would repeat this action many times over the course of the night.

Weiss moved away, neither of her parents paying much attention to her and both of her siblings being nowhere to be seen. she moved around once more until she found another piece that gave her pause. The painting depicted the city of Vale, its plaque reading "Beauty in Civility." It was a simple eagle-eyed shot of the Vale walls and the skyline, but it did capture the clean civic beauty of the now-ruined city. As she admired the piece, she felt a presence set himself next to her. From the corner of her eyes, she saw a young man with a maroon shirt and a black waistcoat with perhaps the most repulsively cocky smile she ever had the displeasure of laying eyes upon. She immediately wanted to leave but, sadly, he opened his mouth.

"It's beautiful," he said, looking at the painting before looking at her. "You two match."

The cheesy pickup line made her want to vomit but she held back the urge to evacuate her stomach's content all of this already unlikable douche.

"Indeed it is," Weiss deflected, trying her hardest to nonverbally tell him that she wasn't interested.

The man with the gray-blue hair did not, in fact, take the hint. He held out his hand.

"Henry Marigold, main branch." his smile widened. "A great pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Schnee."

Weiss cocked her brow at the distinction. Usually, when someone has to specify that they are either from an extended or primary branch, it usually means that the family in question has some shameful history they feel the need to distance themselves from. Still, she shook his hand firmly despite her gut feeling telling her to blow him off.

"Likewise, Mister Marigold." she lied.

The man's smile shrunk but remained.

"If I may be so bold, I found your performance to be breathtaking!"

She rolled her eyes away from him.

"Yes..."

Henry looked over to where she was looking. He hummed as she completely lost herself in the vision of a more peaceful time, completely misunderstanding the way she was looking at the painting of Vale.

"Thinking of acquiring it?"

She snapped out of her daze, looking at him curiously.

"Pardon?"

"Yes, it is quite exquisite. It would make a wonderful piece to add to a personal gallery."

Weiss scoffed.

"No, I don't think so." she declared as she crossed her arms.

He nodded, backing away slightly.

"I get it, I get it. It's an expensive piece, but even still, I bet it would-"

Weiss immediately cut him off, her glare like pure ice.

"You do know that this is a charity concert and exhibit, correct?" she reminded. "We're not here to buy and sell, we're here to raise funds and awareness for a cause."

Henry blanked for a solid second, actually trying to remember the point of this venture.

"What cause may that be, again?" he asked brazenly.

Weiss inhaled sharply, a vein bulging on her forehead.

"What?"

The man shrugged, absent of any form of self-awareness.

"Please, don't take it personally, Miss Schnee. I, like many others, am here to enjoy myself with the entertainment offered."

He snatched a flute of champagne from a passing butler.

"Food, drinks..." he lifted his flute towards her. "Company..."

Her gaze grew dark, her heart about to explode with rage, but a deep guttural sigh came from behind the object of her ire.

"You really haven't changed in all those years. Have you not, dear cousin?" the voice asked in a heavy accent full of disappointment.

Standing a few feet away came a man wearing a fusion of modern fancy dress and traditional ceremonial furs and gold of the tribal people of Solitas. At his hip, a beautifully made curved sword inlaid with gold and silver. The man who wore the attire had the same blue-gray hair as Henry but his face was weathered and peaceful, full of wisdom from a life of asceticism and long days of hard work in the unforgiving snowy wastelands. Henry sneered contemptuously.

"Dragan..." he named whitheringly.

Dragan walked between the two, facing Weiss. To her surprise, he bowed deeply.

"Do forgive my kin's immaturity. He is but a foolish youth of eighteen winters, not yet mindful of the emotions of those around him."

The one named Dragan lifted his head humbly, a compassionate look on his moon-kissed face.

"He does not mean to insult you, or those you grieve for."

Henry crossed his arms, looking both annoyed and embarrassed.

"Just because we're related by blood does not make us kin, Luddite!"

Dragan rolled his eyes.

"We are family, Henry," he explained. "We are bonded, whether you like it or not."

Henry threw his hands up, turning heel.

"Whatever."

Dragan shook his head in disappointment.

"I apologize for his foolishness."

Weiss waved downwards dismissively.

"He's a cunt," She insulted crassly. "I shouldn't have bothered being angry at that idiot."

The soft-spoken man recoiled back slowly in bewilderment.

"I... Didn't expect a refined lady from the floating city to be so..."

"Vulgar?" She asked with a small, sad laugh.

She looked back at the painting of Vale, her eyes becoming glassy.

"I got it from my brother..."

The man in the tribal furs nodded in understanding.

"My condolences."

She waved her hand around.

"All of this... I'm doing it for him. For the city, he sacrificed himself to try and save..."

"How noble." He said with genuine admiration. "Having mingled with the city folk here, I had thought that genuine altruism was a fad."

She scoffed.

"I wish. There are no noble men and noble women here."

The man offered his hand.

"Dragan Merrygold-Volkov. Son of Andrei Volkov and Alice Merrygold."

Weiss smiled as she took the gentleman's hand, shaking it with a firm grip.

"Weiss Schnee. Proud sister of Winter Schnee and Anon Hope."

The man blinked incredulously.

"The Hero of Vale was your kin?"

She nodded.

"Not by blood, but he was my brother."

"Of course, the bonds of brotherhood can be just as strong, if not more, than the bonds of blood."

He had a small, sad smile at the thought.

"Even though, sometimes, I wish they weren't..."

She went to ask what was wrong but even though she had found a person she was actually getting along with, a nearby conversation brought her anger back to a simmer.

"So much for a defence force." A young woman scoffed. "I figured this would happen eventually."

She was a young woman, maybe around Weiss's age, with blue eyes and blond hair. her face was nice but otherwise somewhat plain. She wore an expensive black dress that hugged the contours of her lithe frame. If the strange bulging out of her chest was any indication, she was using a push-up bra. At least, to Weiss's educated guess.

She used to wear them, until she realized they did nothing for her...

'At least I'm bigger than Ruby...' She muttered mentally as she self-consciously held her AAs.

The woman's companion shuffled uncomfortably.

"Uh, I don't think that this is the kind of place you should say that."

She waved her hand dismissively as she took a sip of her wine.

"You know I'm only saying the truth. These Valean morons were looking for trouble by letting those White Fang degenerates run roughshod over their city and NOT mobilize their so-called Defence Force. Those idiots couldn't see the writing on the wall if it was in their own bloody mirror!"

This much, Weiss could endure with not much of a complaint. Vale had been her home for months and she had loved it there, but even she had to admit that the Vale council had acted obtusely and with incredible short-sightedness. The White Fang was a dangerous organization, with militant members counting in the dozens of thousands around the world. To not take the threat it caused seriously, especially after their many brazen attacks, took immense amounts of idiocy, corruption or just plain neglect.

It still annoyed her that her dear friend's home kingdom was being insulted, but she wasn't even simmering. Yet.

"If they're so arrogant to think they can get by without proper kingdom defence, then good riddance I say!"

Weiss felt her blood boil. To dismiss an entire kingdom for the faults of their leader was already foolish enough, but to say that you're happy it's all in ruin was repulsively callous. She vocalized her disgust with a sickened groan.

"Fucking cunt." she insulted out loud.

The girl's eyes widened and she looked back at Weiss, who matched her glare.

"Excuse me?" she exclaimed in outrage.

Weiss takes a champagne glass from a passing busboy before approaching the girl and getting in her face. The girl didn't budge and the two were quite literally face to face.

"I said you're a cunt, you yuppie tart!" Weiss exclaimed.

The girl growled angrily.

"What the heck is your problem?!"

Weiss scoffed.

"My problem? My problem is that you're rejoicing over an entire city being destroyed, at an event specifically meant to raise funds for its aid!"

Weiss took a step forward, forcing the girl back. Soon enough, a crowd formed around them, one that Weiss didn't bother acknowledging despite Dragan's worries that this may be going a bit far.

"You talk of arrogance when you're the arrogant fucking cunt who'd crumble the moments you'd come face to face with a Boarbatusk!" Weiss decried.

The girl chuckled haughtily.

"Please, I nailed my entrance exam for Atlas Academy and have become one of Atlas's illustrious cadets first class! I'm not afraid of a few Grimms!"

Weiss glared.

"A few? Try tens of thousands!" Weiss corrected. "THAT is what the Vale defenders are dealing with on a daily basis, not some stupid fucking pack or swarm, LEGIONS!"

The cadet scoffed callously.

"Your so-called defenders are nothing more than cannon fodder for the real soldiers pulling their weights." She waved dismissively. "Everyone knows that the only people actually doing anything to make things better are our knights in shining white!"

Weiss's eyelid twitched. Dragan held Weiss's shoulder delicately.

"Miss Weiss, this is not worth it."

Weiss shrugged him off.

"I know it isn't." she spat. "She's a spoiled little shit who doesn't know a thing about struggle."

The cadet scoffed.

"Struggle?" she reiterated. "Do you know how arduous and difficult the Atlas entrance exam is, let alone the initiation?"

Weiss rolled her eyes.

"Exam, initiation. Is that all you have to throw at me? I'm talking mortal combat! I'm talking about an atrocity that was committed against a city! And what do you bring to the table? A fucking test!"

She jabbed her finger painfully into the cadet's chest.

"I was there when Vale fell and the people of the city were laid to waste. I was in the trenches, getting work done as carnage reigned around me."

She pushed the arrogant girl away.

"I saw good people lose their lives right before my eyes! I watched as orphans mourned their parents and men and women lament the death of their children."

Her eyes watered with grief and fury as the sound of a flatlining heart rate monitor replayed in her mind's ears.

"I lost my best friend, my brother!" her voice broke. "He died trying to save that city from those fffffFUCKING White Fang degenerates and the Grimm!"

She grabbed the cadet by the front of her dress with raging tears rolling down her cheeks.

"You spit on my brother's grave by mocking his efforts and those of the Vale defenders! You repugnant fucking whore!"

The cadet's head raised slightly, only for her face to twist with a contemptuous sneer.

"And? Why should I care for some worthless pauper friend you've made in that land of morons who'd let themselves be invaded by a bunch of savages?"

Weiss's face grew dark and the urge to make that girl regret her entire life was barely pushed down. In its stead, petty revenge for her disrespect will do. Weiss threw her champagne glass forward, spraying the cadet's nice dress with the alcoholic beverage and eliciting a shocked gasp from the audience that formed around them. The blonde looked down in shock with mouth agape. Her shock turned to anger as she glared at the young woman responsible for ruining this dress that cost more than a mine worker made in five months.

"Y-You! Do you know how expensive this dress is?!"

Weiss threw her glass away, letting it smash on the floor behind her. A mean-spirited smile appeared on her face.

"And? Why should I care about some overpriced cloth that a gullible moron who let herself be wetted by some worthless pauper's sister?"

Suddenly, a hand wrapped around the snow princess's wrist. She looked back to see her father with a glacial look in his eyes.

"That is enough, young lady," he ordered with a cold tone.

Weiss's eye became veiled in shadows.

"Let go of me, you fucking bastard!" Weiss demanded with a low tone full of menace.

Jacque's face turned red and his hand raised high. Suddenly, Glyphs of light appeared around her. Jacque recoiled slightly as he realized that she was aiming all five Glyphs at him.

"What are you-"

She glared at him with a dark gaze.

"Go ahead, you letch!" she dared. "Hit me, I fucking dare you!"

Jacque's hand raised itself hit.

"Bluffing won't help your case!"

Just as his hand was to descend, a heeled boot planted itself between his ribs and stomach. The older man let off a short pained yell as he was launched to the floor. He muttered a curse as he held his side, looking up furiously at his attacker.

Before him stood his first-born daughter in her dress uniform, a new rank adorning her breast.

Sergeant Winter Schnee looked down witheringly, her gaze even colder than his. As soon as her father managed to get back up, General James Ironwood appeared from the crowd with a hard expression.

"What in the world is going on?" he demanded to know.

The cadet was the first to speak.

"This mongrel ruined my dress!" she yelled indignantly.

He rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"A scene for something so inane?"

The cadet flinched.

"But-"

Ironwood gazed upon her scrutinizingly.

"Cadet First Class Adora Dorado, is it?"

She puffed her chest out and saluted, doing her best to act like she wasn't about to argue with her general.

"Yes sir!"

His gaze became withering.

"May I enquire as to why you were arguing with Miss Schnee?"

She racked her throat and began recounting what transpired. Surprisingly enough, she didn't omit or lie about anything but if her arrogant smirk and look of superiority towards Weiss was any indication, she thought that she was not only the right, but soon to be vindicated.

However, if the General's expression was any indication, she would be anything but vindicated.

The man slowly inhaled as he rubbed his eyes, a pair of actions that made Miss Dorado sweat nervously.

"G-general-"

"HAVE I SAID YOU'RE ALLOWED TO OPEN YOUR MOUTH, SOLDIER?!" He bellowed.

Adora reflexively entered into a parade rest stand.

"SIR, NO SIR!"

"YOU SPEAK WHEN I TELL YOU TO SPEAK! HAVE I MADE MYSELF CLEAR, MAGGOT!?"

"SIR, YES SIR!"

All glanced in worried awe at Ironwood. Few knew of the man behind the rank, save for his long and celebrated history as a commander of men reminiscent of the generals of the Old Kingdom. A man of honour, loyalty and unflinching stalwartness.

Yet none expected the sheer fury he had held back.

"Do you have any idea what garbage you have been spewing, soldier?"

A trick question, if she answered, she'd be breaking the rule about speaking only when told to. Adora had fallen for it once during boot camp and lived to regret it, with a hundred push-ups as her punishment. She simply remained completely still as General Ironwood just laid it on her.

"While true that the Valean council, and Headmaster Ozpin for that matter, have been completely useless during the Fall of Beacon and the resultant Ruin of Vale, it doesn't change the fact that ever since the end of the Great War, Vale has been our sworn BROTHERS IN ARM!"

He leaned close to Adora, her expression growing fearful as his became furious.

"Tell me, maggot, WHAT IS THE SOLDIER'S CREED?"

"SIR!"

She racked her throat.

"I am an Atlan Soldier, warrior and a member of a team.

I serve the people of the Solitas and live by the values of the Atlan Military.

I will always place the mission first, I will never accept defeat.

I will never quit, I will never leave a fallen comrade behind.

I will never forget my fallen comrades, and always stand by my brothers in arms.

I am disciplined, physically and mentally tough, trained and proficient in my warrior tasks and drills.

I always maintain my arms, my equipment and myself.

I am an expert and I am a professional.

I stand ready to deploy, engage, and destroy, the enemies of Atlas and Mantle in combat.

I am a guardian of Order and the Solitan way of life."

The general stood firm, a sneer on his face.

"Tell me, did you uphold the Soldier's Creed?"

She blinked.

And shrunk.

And paled.

"I..." she squeaked out. "I..."

The older man sighed, utterly disappointed.

"Out of these nine verses, you have desecrated the one I hold dearest."

He turned to the sculpture "Live for me, sister." with glassy eyes.

"Many of our Valen brothers have died. Brave men and women who sacrificed themselves to save what they could. But not just that, it was due to a Beacon Student that we managed to retake the Honourbound."

He turned back to her, his disgust palpable.

"During the reclaiming of Amity, the VDF and VCPD have stood side by side with us, many DIED to ensure the mission's success."

He pointed to Weiss without looking.

"This 'Mongrel', as you called her, fought side by side with our soldiers! Which is more than you or anyone else in this room than boast."

The general held his neck with gritted teeth, a haunted look in his eyes.

"But further than that, her brother in arm... He saved my life."

The audience gasped in shock and Adora stared in disbelief at the woman she insulted, only for her to glare back contemptuously. The general continued with bile on his tongue.

"You insulted him, defiled his memory as one of the many heroes of Vale, MY saviour, by referring to that honourable warrior as a WORTHLESS PAUPER!"

He held his finger under her chin as she shook.

"He was more than an entire year's worth of you silver-spoon-fed maggots," he growled. "He was worth an entire platoon of our soldiers!"

He sneered disdainfully as she looked away in shame and embarrassment.

"You're a disgrace to the uniform. You are unworthy to call yourself one of our best and brightest recruits. you are not worthy of being called Cadet First Class."

He turned around to face Weiss and Winter.

"Let's get someplace quieter."

Both sister's nodded as they followed behind the General. Jacque power walked to his daughter.

"I am not done, young lady-"

In one sleek motion, two swords were unsheathed. The patriarch of the Schnee family stopped dead in his tracks as two blades flirted with his carotids. His daughters glared at him with disdain in their eyes.

"No," Weiss leaned close to her genitor, face to face. "We're done here."

She let her blade fall back into its sheath as she and her sister, with Ironwood at the head, left the party to an uneasy murmur.

...

The hallway towards the roof was quiet with only the occasional worker moving around to go do their job elsewhere interrupting the silence. The trio emerged to the cold outdoor air with a swing of the roof access door. Weiss shuddered slightly, much to Winter's amusement.

"Got used to the temperate weather overseas?" she teased lightly.

Weiss rolled her eyes, managing to hold down another shiver.

"No, I just thought of something scary."

"Which is?"

"Your face when you get out of bed."

Ironwood snorted, much to Winter's annoyance.

"General!"

"Sorry, couldn't help myself."

Weiss had a small smirk, her mood still awfully dire from the previous confrontation. She walked over to the General as he leaned against the railing at the edge of the roof. She took hold of the railing and craned her head to look at him.

"Thank you, general."

He shook his head dismissively.

"I apologize once again for my soldier's conduct." he sneered disdainfully. "Stupid rich folk and all that, thinking they're hotter than fire because they have more money than everyone..."

He groaned angrily before taking out a large cigarette case and took out a long cigarillo, lighting it up and inhaling deeply. Weiss looked at the general increduly, baffled by what he just did.

"I don't think that's how that works..."

The ironhanded general nodded as he exhaled a thick cloud of smoke.

"I know."

Winter joined the two, holding a supportive arm over her sister's shoulders. Weiss held the hand that hung over her collar.

"Thank you for showing up."

The wintery sergeant smiled warmly.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world."

The sisters hugged, the smaller of the two sighing deeply as she buried herself in the crook of her neck. Winter crooked a brow in worry.

"What's up?"

As they separated, Winter noticed just how tired Weiss was. A haunted air hung around her, one Winter was all too familiar with.

The look of someone who's seen firsthand the ravages of war and the pain of loss.

Weiss rubbed her eyes tiredly.

"I shouldn't be here..." her voice creeked out. "I should be in Vale with my team."

She leans on the railing, hiding her face in her arms.

"Instead, I'm stuck here. Entertaining a bunch of useless retards to fund a fight I should be joining."

Winter grimaced, sucking on her teeth.

"Language..." she muttered.

Weiss rolled her eyes.

"Oh, get off my ass. Harsh language never killed anyone."

She gripped the railing and it began creaking under her grasp.

"Like that cunt with her stupid dress."

Ironwood nodded gravely.

"CFC Dorado is a promising recruit but with the attitude she just displayed, I'm almost certain she's in for a rough road ahead."

She spat into the void.

"I fucking hope she flunks."

Winter's brow crooked further.

"I didn't think you could be vengeful like this," she said in worry.

The snow princess looked down into the cold skyline of Atlas with a listless blank stare.

"I lost my best friend and my asshole of a father refused to let me bury him."

Tears began to well in her eyes.

"I didn't even get to say goodbye to him... and then that bitch just..."

Weiss felt her big sister's arms wrap around her, the only warmth her childhood self was accustomed to. But it wasn't enough to soothe her lonely heart anymore. She had acclimated to such a warmer climate of love and support, of friendship and brotherhood.

Her found-sisters at Team RWBY, her found-brother in Anon, her found home in Beacon and Vale.

All gone, some forever.

The solace she once found in her blood sister was no longer enough, her once cold heart now thawed and yearning for so much more. Weiss began sobbing in Winter's arms. The heiress of the Schnee Dust Company cried and cried, and cried. She had lost her older brother, her sisters were far far away and her home was in ruin. All she could do now was cry until she couldn't cry anymore.

APOCRYPHA: END

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