When the Schnees abandoned Atlas for Vale they had settled for nothing less than the finest accommodations.
The Old Schnee Manor, once the most regal structure in all of Atlas, hadn't been destroyed, exactly, but there were numerous close calls. Jacques Schnee had made many enemies, and the Reds would love nothing better than to burn him and the SDC to the ground. The Blues relied on his dust but made no secret that while the protection of his mines was a top priority, the protection of any one citizen was not. As the war dragged on and it became apparent that this upstart uprising wasn't going to be put down any time soon Jacques had thought it prudent to withdraw, for the time being. The family and whatever relics and treasures they could bring with them had abandoned the mansion, and graciously turned its spacious interior over to the homeless refugees of Atlas. Let the Reds bomb that.
The New Schnee Manor stood in the center of one of the most historic districts in all of Vale, with a fine marble edifice and several stories of palatial grandeur. It had a storied history, which he was happy to regale guests with whenever the opportunity arose. Vale had no single royal family, but instead had an elected monarch, chosen for life from 13 of its Noblest Families, each of whom had a home in the Capital outside of their private holdings. For hundreds of years they stood ascendant, but in the calamity of the Great War most were killed in battle- victims of their own code of honor. The survivors were too weakened to fight the new democratic spirit of the age; their holdings were seized and their members scattered to the wind.
The Royal Palace was now a museum operated by the Valean Government and could not be purchased at any price. The manors of the 13 Princes were less fortunate. Some had been demolished after the war in an outburst of anti-aristocratic fervor- others had been more soberly replaced with skyscrapers or parking lots after the vacant halls had fallen into disrepair. Only 1 had survived intact. It had been snapped up by a wealthy merchant… whose grandson owed the SDC a fortune. It has been a headache, evicting him from the mansion, but it had been well worth the trouble. The radiant stone, the long hallways and high, vaulted ceilings all evoked a sense of awe and helplessness the Schnees were happy to exploit. Everyone, from Councilors to servants, felt small and malleable in the face of such opulence. It was a home fit for a monarch, and in this day and age dust was king.
But the Schnees were pretenders. The ancient sense of awe and dread the building evoked almost seemed to be theirs, but it wasn't. Not quite. By the standards of the Manor's history the Schnees were toddlers, playing at aristocracy. They could drape the white marble with curtains and carpets of soft blue, and emblazon a snowflake on every coat of arms in the house, but they had never thought to remove the touches of gold that accented every room, or the subtle crescents built into the Manor's facade.
History had a sense of humor- while Jacques sat in his makeshift palace, the true heir of the manor was claiming his birthright just 3 blocks away.
" Gahk !"
Willow struggled to breath as Jaune buried her nose in his pubes.
"Gods, baby girl, that feels great." He growled. Then he pulled Willow up, inch by inch, leaving a trail of frothy spit dripping down his shaft. Finally, he pulled the slut off with a satisfying pop. Her eyes met his as she panted raggedly- he could practically see hearts in her pupils.
Then she swooped all the way down to the base of her own accord.
"Shit!" Jaune hissed.
He had really tried to give his new pet MILF a break. He really, really did. But as they got closer and closer to Schnee Manor Willow got closer and closer to him. At first she had innocently lounged on his shoulder, but when she 'fell' face first onto his lap he started looking for somewhere to park. He'd settled on a dark alley within walking distance of her home.
"Imagine some maid of yours walking by right now and seeing Mistress Schnee slurping her Master's cock." He teased. Willow's deepthroating merely quickened as she hummed around his dick. "Oh?" He asked. "You like that, huh? You want everyone to know who's whore you are? Who it is you really belong to?"
"Mmmmmmhmmmmmm." Willow moaned.
Jaune grinned savagely. "Think the little slut might join in?"
Willow's eyes widened.
"You seem like you're on your last legs." He said. "I won't hold it against you if you want a helping hand. How bout it babe? Know any little cuties who can keep my cock warm for you?"
The eldest Schnee forced herself into a second wind as she slammed herself harder and harder into his crotch, lips plump and eyes lidded, with a loud sucking sound reverberating through the air.
'So, she's as competitive as Amber, huh?' He thought, amused. Then he watched her more closely. 'No, that isn't it…'
"That turns you on, doesn't it?" Jaune said huskily.
Willow slowed, looking him in the eye as innocently as she could.
"You liked seeing me fuck Amber." He said hungrily. "And you'd love setting me up with some other slut, wouldn't you?"
Willow's heartbeat quickened, pounding against her chest in a rising tempo. Jaune cupped her breast with one hand as the other slid down her torso.
"I doubt she'd be as sweet and curvy as you, but I'm sure there's someone you'd like to see broken in. How about it, baby girl? Wanna help Daddy demolish another cunt?"
"Mmmph! Mmmmph! Mmmmph!"
Jaune could feel the warmth radiating from her womanhood before he even touched it. Willow was like a sex fueled bomb, waiting for the slightest pressure to explode.
Jaune split her lower lips and felt her tremble as he slipped a finger inside.
"You're so wet."
'You're so big.' she thought incredulously, forcing herself to breath through her nose and getting a steady intake of his thick, strong musk. At that moment, his thumb pressed down on her clitoris as his fingers curled up inside her velvety walls.
Willow squirted all over his hands as she let out a series of high pitched squeaks, lips pressed against his balls.
Jaune smiled in contentment.
Seeing her breath get shallower and shallower, the young stud pulled Willow off his member, wrenching her off with a soft pop before his girthy shaft slapped the slut in the face.
Willow's dazed eyes looked disbelieving at the massive man meat she had just crammed into her mouth.
Jaune ruffled her hair, following her train of thought.
"You're the first woman to take it all the way down to the base." He said warmly. "Your head game is on point, Willow."
Willow flushed slightly at the praise before looking at the spit covered shaft thoughtfully.
"You're not finished." She murmured disbelievingly.
Jaune looked down at her with a patronizing glint in his eyes. "Are you?"
Willow shivered under his gaze before shimmying out of her top, delighting her man with how her breasts bounced and jiggled.
"I wanna try something new, Daddy." She cooed, cupping her breasts before wrapping her tits around his shaft and her lips around his head.
Jaune let out a savage growl as he experienced his first tit job. Willow was the most well endowed of his current lovers, and his member was so massive the others had never even bothered to try, but while Willow's mammaries weren't quite large enough to wrap all the way around he was certainly enjoying the attempt.
"You're just the perfect little cocksleeve, aren't you?" He teased, thrusting into her mouth.
The Schnee moaned wantonly. Other women of her station might object to being manhandled so brutally, like some common whore, but not her. Willow had never aspired to be anything more than a kept woman.
Her parents were a different breed. Her children were too… perhaps it skipped a generation.
Nicholas Schnee was a fearless adventurer and brilliant inventor, who rose from the common filth of Mantle to find new veins of Dust, new ways to extract and exploit it, with nothing more than his wits and whatever spare change he could find. Jessica Klaus had been a charming, sensible woman from a modest yet respectable family- far too sensible to run off with a penniless adventurer like Nick Schnee. But he was her one indulgence, and she was his only tether to polite society. Theirs had been a strange yet beautiful union. He broke new ground and she balanced the books, he disdained red tape and those who put it in his way, she would diplomatically and disarmingly navigate it. He scorned court politics, she was its unrivaled master, he felt at home in the dust and dirt, she kept her office spotless, and was always dabbing at his beard or his brow for some fleck of filth that he had missed on his way home. People always remarked that they were a strange couple, rarely seen together during the day, but every night, after a tireless day of work, the pair would crawl into bed and fall asleep in each other's arms. In the gossip pages, there were only two shared features anyone could find between them, aside from their distinctive Atlesian features: they were unparalleled in their chosen fields, and unquestionably in love.
That love had birthed two children: Willow and the Schnee Dust Corporation.
The first needed no introduction: it was a household name in all of Remnant, the engine of the Atlesian Economic Miracle and the most important producer of the most important resource known to man: Dust. Every industry relied on their energy, every weapon system needed their refined material, every high tech gadget needed their miraculous substance. Nicholas had taken an arcane tool and used it to put a light in every home… and collected a fee from every man in Remnant.
Willow had come later, and by the time she had been born the SDC had already established itself as Remnant's powerhouse, but she had been the apple of her parents' eyes, their most prized creation. They spared no expense for her, giving Willow everything they never had, with the finest schools and tutors and gifts that money could buy. Nothing but the best would do for Daddy's Little Princess.
Only, it never seemed to be enough. The great potential her parents had seen from her youngest years had never come into being. She was always among the most popular girls in her class, never mean… vain, conceited and lackadaisical, perhaps, but never mean. Her grades were never failing, nor were they anything to write home about. She spent her younger years doodling and giggling with her friends about cute boys, putting the bare minimum into her assigned tasks and pawning off work with a wink or a pout.
The Schnees were workaholics- they simply couldn't conceive of a daughter without an ambitious bone in her body. 'It's not that Willow isn't bright.' Her teachers would say dutifully, in the many Parent-Teacher conferences her parents had shunted into their busy day. The fault had to be in her teachers, it couldn't possibly be in her. Willow always seemed to be playing her part- she was an expert actress.
Diplomatic excuses aside, Willow was bright; bright enough to know that the Schnee fortune was too large for any prodigal daughter to squander in a hundred years, large enough for her and her children and her children's children to live a life of luxury without ever lifting a finger. There was no work to be done that she couldn't pay someone else to do for her- so Willow never concerned herself with work. She put on an appropriate air when the moment called for it and went back to her flights of fancy as soon as she could.
If her parents ever had suspected that Willow wasn't giving her all, they had never done anything about it. Oh, Daddy had threatened to take away some of her toys, cut her allowance, cancel her vacations, but his resolve couldn't survive the marr of a frown on her beautiful features. So her parents had let her enjoy herself, reassured that sooner or later she would have to grow up.
And she had grown up, beautifully. She had always been a pretty girl- by her teenage years it became obvious that she'd be a gorgeous woman. As a young adult her body became irresistible; she was demure and dainty, yet full figured and fit, more fashionable than any other girl in the school and with more to show off. She was the star of every dance, the crown jewel of high society, the most beautiful princess of the most prestigious family in a world where monarchs had only just been driven off the throne. Willow reveled in it, basked in it. For the first time in her life she found something worth working hard at- organizing the most spectacular parties, creating the most beautiful shows, catching the eyes of the most eligible bachelors in Atlas.
Her parents had seemed relieved by her talent at extracurriculars- they were happy to see her happy and happier still that she excelled. She was the star of several school plays, none of which were particularly good, but all of which were packed houses- the low cut dresses and short skirts she insisted upon ensured that. She embraced various causes, none of which she knew much about, all of which she felt were very important and needed to be discussed with important people, who were always happy to take her calls.
She especially loved sports, flitting from dance to swimming, before eventually settling on cheerleading. It suited her, she was peppy and pretty and preferred the view from the sidelines, and it kept her fit and flexible. She had cost her team a few games by inadvertently distracting the players, but that was just fine by her. Willow wasn't there to win, she was there to woo. Inevitably she was crowned head cheerleader in her senior year- she delegated most of the boring details to her successors, but the 'Head' cheerleader was the best at cheering her favorites up.
"Gods, Willow." Jaune groaned, running a hand through her hair "Where did you learn to suck cock?"
Willow hummed happily, an old cheer reverberating through her throat and into the throbbing flesh of the Arc's manhood. Jaune groaned louder in approval, tightening his grip.
It had been an open secret that in her prime, Willow Schnee was the best lay in Atlas- not the easiest, the best. Whatever genius lay untapped within her poured for hours over old Mistrali texts, religiously followed pornographic instructions and traded stories with her friends about conquests and conquerors. She had mastered the art of hedonism with a level of devotion that would impress any philosopher, always keeping her pleasure right on the edge of social acceptability. She was a slut, but never the sluttiest, a drinker who was never the drunkest, a gourmet who's figure never seemed to suffer for it. It was no small thing, getting the Schnee in your bed, but once you did it, you never forgot it. She teased far more than she had treated… but consider just how much she teased...
Jaune's hips started bucking wildly, no longer content to let her take the lead.
"Let's see if we can't wrap this up." He said savagely. "I have a date tonight, and you really have to get home."
Willow choked and gagged, spittle flying as she futilely tried to match his thrusts.
"Maybe if you're a good girl, I'll let you watch next time." Jaune teased, wrapping his hands around her scalp. "We can make a game out of it. You can get a list of maids and tell me which slut you want me to fuck! Sound good?!"
Jaune's balls tightened as he felt Willow nod .
"Mhm." She hummed, all while he bobbed her throat up and down on his cock.
"Naughty slut!" Jaune growled. "You'd like to watch me break your entire staff, wouldn't you? See Daddy bang every one of those bitches!" His thrusts were becoming deeper, harder, and Willow's face was turning a vibrant shade of red, but even while gagging he understood her reply.
"Mmmmhmmmm. Mmmmmmhmmmmm."
'Oh, fuck.'
"Why stop there? Why not invite your friends over to play?" Jaune growled. "Get all the local MILFs together for a slumber party? Have An and I double team you for a real workout!"
Willow came again while asphyxiating on his cock.
Jaune's dirty talk had completely lost any filter. All that mattered was breaking this bitch on his cock, and then getting every other slut around to suffer the same fate. "How 'bout that frigid little daughter of yours? Want Daddy to turn her into a proper slut?!"
Willow gagged hard, on the verge of passing out.
Jaune recognized the danger signs and pulled out quickly, letting the woman get a desperate gasp of air, looking at her weeping eyes and swollen lips with a measure of guilt.
'I'm losing it.' He thought, trying to rain back his darkest impulses. 'This is the kind of shit I'm trying to avoid.'
'Oh, live a little.' His shadow grumbled. 'We were having fun.'
The blond sighed. He had pushed Willow too far, physically and mentally.
'What the fuck did you expect, asking her to help seduce her own baby girl?'
'Eh, worth a shot.' His shadow said.
Jaune could barely muster the strength to disagree. He had been 14 when the Schnees had moved to Vale, 14 when the proud heiress made her way into his world. As soon as he laid eyes on her Jaune had been captivated by Weiss- she was so proud, so pretty, and her graceful and fragile beauty were matched by a sophistication and strength of spirit befitting an ice princess. Before his 'Blessing' had made masturbation completely unsatisfying, Weiss had been one of his favorite fantasy girls, alongside…
Jaune shook his head.
"...Don't touch, remember?" He mouthed, so softly that his lover couldn't hear.
Willow was still panting, and coughing up golden pubic hair. Jaune winced at how pained she looked, eyes unfocused and tear tracts marring the same elegant features he'd fallen for 3 years ago. Willow wasn't Weiss, but no snowflake was exactly the same as any other, and she was beautiful and precious too. Now he had her, and he'd be damned if he fucked it up pursuing unfinished business.
It was a fun fantasy, turning Schnee Manor into his personal brothel, but it would never-
"-Which one do you want?"
He looked down to find Willow staring up at him, ice blue eyes wide in devotion.
'Which… one?'
Willow had two daughters.
His heart stopped. There was no teasing in her voice, no anger: just pure, unequivocal submission. In that moment, Jaune Arc held Willow Schnee's soul in his hands, and nothing mattered to her except making him happy.
"Fuck!"
With an animalistic grunt, Jaune hammered his cock back into her throat with a brutality that might have killed her if his aura wasn't reinforcing her jaw. With his last shred of sanity keeping Willow safe, Jaune fucked her throat with reckless abandon.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUUUUUUUUUUCCCCKKKKKKKKK!"
Everyone in a half mile radius heard Jaune's bestial cry as he came, but not one of them was brave enough to approach the source- it was the roar of an apex predator marking its territory.
Willow's eyes rolled into the back of her head as Jaune's pulsating member shot torrent after torrent of sperm down her throat. Her cheeks swelled as she futilely tried to swallow it all, streams leaking down her chin and onto the seat below.
Glug-glug-glug-glug-glug-glug-glug-glug-glug.
After what seemed like an eternity, Jaune finally came to a stop, pulling out of Willow's mouth for the final time that night.
Her face was a mess: tears, sweat and cum were streaming down, her hair matted and damp. Her eyes were red and her tongue was white- the only signs of her breathing were the faint rise and fall of her generous bosom, and the soft gurgling of the sperm that was still coating her throat.
"Holy shit."
'I could have killed her.' He thought, horrified. 'I could have choked her to death just to get my rocks off.'
'She enjoyed herself.' his shadow taunted. 'They call an orgasm 'la petít mort' for a reason.'
'This has to stop.'
His shadow chuckled. 'Keep telling yourself that, buddy.'
Jaune gently moved Willow's head while he reached into the glove compartment for some tissues.
As much as it would serve Jacques Schnee right for his wife to come home with another man's cum in her hair, he didn't want to make a scene for Willow. Not that Jacques would be personally offended- it was a bad look for the company.
He found it hard to believe that any red blooded man could just see Willow as a piggybank- her fortune meant nothing to him.
But it meant a great deal to other people. Other sluts.
'Think about it.' His shadow whispered. 'This bitch has only got a few good years left in her, but she has the entire world on speed dial. You want to fuck the lead actress of the blockbuster of the summer? She can make it happen. Some hot little starlet, some famous floozie? They'll bend over backwards for a shot at some money, like any good whore, and she can line you right up for them. And if she wants to keep it in the family...'
Weiss was gorgeous, and though he had only caught glimpses of her older sister he knew she was gorgeous too. If he wanted some Schnee snatch Willow could hand them over. If he forced the issue, there wasn't a woman in Remnant who could resist his charms. Willow was proof of tha-
'No!' Jaune thought savagely. 'I won't use her!'
'...A little late for that, isn't it?'
'Not like that.' Jaune told himself. ' Never like that.'
Willow came to with a gentle hand dabbing at a smudge on her lip. Her eyes darted up to her lovers'.
"J-j-"
He ran a thumb across her cheek. "Hey baby girl." He said gently. "Did you enjoy your protein shake?"
She let out a soft giggle. " Yes, Daddy." She cooed.
"Well, from now on, you can only have one when you're a good girl."
She fluttered her eyelashes. "Haven't I been a good girl?"
Jaune chuckled. "I appreciate the effort, you naughty little minx, but I'm still your trainer. If I stop a session, it's time to stop. No teasing Daddy and slipping his dick in your mouth." He patted her head. "From now on, only suck my cock when I tell you to."
Willow stared up at him, leaning into his touch.
"Yes, Daddy."
It should have astonished her how completely under his sway she was… but it didn't. Jaune was everything Willow wanted in a man. Not only was he devilishly handsome and a god in bed, but he was supremely confident and willing to take the lead.
Her father had been a great man, but he had let her get away with too much, and few were willing to cross the heiress of the SDC. So many men walked on eggshells around her that Willow had found herself drawn to anyone who had the balls to talk down to her, manhandle her, take what they wanted. She thought she had found that with Jacques, but she had overcorrected. He really did not care for her: at all.
Jacques had worked his entire life to get where he was, and whatever his shortcomings, he had the business instincts of a shark. When her mother passed, her father grew ill, and bankruptcy loomed like an impossible specter during the darkest days of the Faunus War, he had risen from regional manager to the SDC's right hand man. Willow hadn't minded surrendering a spot she wasn't ready for- she couldn't do her mother or her father's job and was happy to have found someone who could… and she was smitten with him. She had mistaken his relentlessness for passion, or at least passion for her. She had cleaned her act up, to play the part of respectable wife and hostess, hoping to use her social graces for her husband and business. But she and Jacques were not her parents- Jacques was a skilled social climber himself and neither needed nor wanted her help. She was his greatest trophy, to be displayed on occasion and shunted back in the closet when he didn't need her, cared for as an obligation and afterthought and ignored whenever possible.
For a time, there had been glimmers of… something. Father had always been able to resolve their early disputes; Jacques respected him. And, holding their newborn daughter for the first time, seeing the inescapable burst of paternal pride in his eyes, Willow thought in that moment that Jacques may have even loved her.
But it didn't last. Jacques had high expectations for his children, and no use for worthless heirs. To put it plainly, none of his children could grow into Willows. She had given alcohol up for all of her pregnancies, tried so hard to be a good mother- truly worked at something for the first time in her life. But old habits had crept back- it was easy to turn to drink after a terrible tantrum or a vicious argument, easy to send servants in her stead to recitals, to pick the children up from school, to meals. The more she slipped up, the more open her husband's contempt became, the more she retreated to her old vices, on and on in a death spiral of mutual recrimination that became her marriage. When her father died, he had left Jacques the keys to the Kingdom, on the condition that it was held in trust for Willow, who would always be cared for. Jacques cared for his wife the same way he paid his taxes- as little as he could get away with. She was locked in a gilded cage with a husband who hated her and children who were the pride of her life but who viewed her in tolerant contempt, as a pitiful creature who represented everything they should never be.
"Willow?" Jaune asked gently.
Willow blinked and realized her vision had blurred- fresh tears pooled in the corner of her eyes. Jaune softly wiped them away.
"Are you okay?"
Willow nodded with a forced smile, pressing her hand into his.
She had her part to play in the sad story of her life, but she could still turn things around. She had lost her old circle in Atlas, but An and the others were far better friends, pushing her to improve. She was slowly working towards becoming something she could be proud of, someone her children could rely on rather than make excuses for. And now, with Jaune, she had found something wonderful.
Deep down, Willow was still the spoiled little daddy's girl who wanted to be taken care of. She hadn't built the inner strength of her children, or her friends, and while maybe she could, she felt much safer in the hands of someone else, safer to grow and push herself if there was someone to bandage her wounds and kiss them better.
Jaune looked like that someone. Someone who would care for her but wouldn't hesitate to get rough when the situation called for it, someone who would neither spoil nor scorn her.
A firm hand with a gentle touch.
He was so perfect.
"Can you get dressed?"
Willow sighed. All good things had to come to an end, and she had taken up enough of his time.
"Yes." She murmured, pushing herself up.
Jaune picked up her shirt and helped smooth out the wrinkles as she slipped it back on. Willow did her best to help make herself presentable, but luxuriated in his touch, every brush of his fingers over her skin, every strand of hair he moved off her face.
With some effort he pulled his hands away and looked her over.
Willow put on a shy grin. "How do I look?"
Jaune stroked his chin thoughtfully. " I dunno…" He murmured. "Something's not quite right."
Willow's gut twisted nervously. "What is i-"
Jaune leaned forward and laid a gentle kiss on her forehead.
Willow blushed as he pulled back, eyes twinkling mischievously.
"There we go." He said, framing her face with his hands. "Perfect."
Her flush deepened. "Oh, stop." She whined, smiling all the while.
Jaune turned his eyes back to the road and took them the short distance to the gates of Schnee Manor.
Memories flashed through his mind as he took in the regal structure for the first time in years. His last visit seemed like a lifetime ago, back when he had been invited to meet his snow angel, as an honored guest alongside his…
Jaune stopped just short of the intercom. Even though Vale was safer than Atlas, security remained tight. Cameras surrounded the building alongside a top fence, and anyone who wanted to enter would have to be buzzed in. Jaune would have to roll down to the window and press the button to drop her off, but he wasn't moving.
Willow turned to him gently. "Jaune?" She asked gently. "What's the matter?"
"Have you ever met my father?"
Willow arched an eyebrow at the tension in his voice.
Jaune didn't explain himself to her. The Schnees and the Arcs didn't run in exactly the same circles, but they overlapped enough to wind up at some of the same parties, and if Jaune's father was anything like him Willow was the kind of beauty he couldn't have failed to snap up.
Thankfully, her confusion at his tone seemed genuine.
"No."
"Really?" Jaune asked. "Not even once?"
The Schnee shook her head. "My husband…" she sighed. "... I was a mess when we moved to Vale. I think for the first year I didn't spend a single night sober. Jacques wouldn't let me near any important people… he's embarrassed of me."
Jacques was a fool and a bastard… but Jaune was feeling very grateful for that right now.
"Of course, the next chance I get, I'm going to give him a piece of my mind." Willow said, anger creeping into her voice. Throwing his own son on the streets? How could anyone be so abominable towards such a wonderful, wonderful young man-
"Don't." Jaune said sternly.
Willow looked up at him curiously.
"I don't want you to fight my battles." He said. "There's no reason you should ever go near him. Promise me."
Willow looked into his eyes. She didn't know why he was asking her. She didn't need the reason.
"I promise." She said.
Jaune relaxed. "For what it's worth, I'll keep out of your family affairs for now, too."
Willow blushed as she remembered who she had offered her lover up on a silver platter. She wouldn't really-
'-It would be so hot.'
She burned bright under The Arc's gaze. "I-I-I" She stammered.
Jaune laughed. "Relax, baby girl." He teased. "We all say crazy things during sex.
"Yes..." she said, "just a little dirty talk…" she laughed nervously.
Jaune laughed with her. Then he rolled the window down and pressed the button. Before he could get a word out Willow cut in.
"Heeeeeeeeeelloooooo." She crooooned. "It's meeeee!"
She was acting with her entire body, her voice was singsongy and gay, her body swayed as she spoke, and their lovemaking had left her skin flushed. The only sign she was sober was the laughter in her eyes as she looked at Jaune, as if the two of them were sharing a private joke. She explained half coherently that she had gone out for a good time and run into a nice, handsome young man who had generously taken her back home, and could they please send someone to get her.
Recognizable through the static was a long suffering sigh. " Right away, ma'am." The voice said, exasperated.
Jaune looked impressed as Willow straightened her posture out.
"You're not a bad actress."
Willow grinned. "I've dabbled. No one will question a thing, and we have to explain why I can't walk somehow."
Jaune rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. "Yeah, sorry about that."
Willow kissed his cheek. "Don't be." Then she collapsed into his chest. Jaune was about to ask why when the gates opened and a short, stout man approached the car.
He was friendly looking and balding, with an impressive moustache covering his upper lips. Jaune opened the door and pulled Willow out with him.
"Mrs. Schnee." He said worriedly. "Are you alright?"
"Klein." She said airily. "Oh, I'm soooo happy to see you. I can't move so good."
It was all the poor man could do not to bury his face in his hands. "But Madam, I thought you'd stopped-"
She giggled drunkenly. "I know, I know, but I had sooooooo much fun tonight. Jaune was so nice to me."
The man looked at his bemused guest, still keeping Willow on her feet.
"She looked like she'd have trouble getting home, so I offered to take her back." Jaune said, feigning ignorance. He looked over the mansion. "Nice place."
Klein didn't recognize the Arc, and seemed grateful his Mistress had made it home in one piece.
Willow made a show of clinging to Jaune as he handed her off to the shorter man. Then she startled singing a little ditty to herself.
Jaune fought back a laugh. "Is she always this much of a happy drunk?"
Klein stopped short for a moment. "...No…" He said thoughtfully. He looked at the radiant smile on Mrs. Schnee's face as she waved at the boy in front of them. "I haven't seen her like this in a very long time."
Jaune's face grew solemn.
"...Take care of her." He said.
Klein nodded absentmindedly, missing the significance of the order. "Thank you for bringing her back, young man." He said, turning back to the Manor. As Klein carried her back, Willow turned around and mouthed her own thank you, blowing her lover one last kiss of the night.
Jaune stood there,watching them go for a few long seconds, before forcing himself back into the car and gunning it in the opposite direction before he could lose control and take Willow away with him.
Willow felt a small stab of loss as his lights vanished in the distance, but it was outweighed by the joy of knowing that this was their first encounter, not their last.
Klein struggled up the steps as he carried her, the poor man's knees wobbling as he went. Willow bit her lip as a real sense of guilt as she forced another person to carry her load.
"I'm sorry." She whispered, as they made their way into her room.
Klein sighed. "I'm just doing my job." He said, as he set her down on the bed. "But if you want to make it up to me, please stop destroying yourself like this. It hurts everyone, seeing you like this. More than you know."
Willow seemed thoughtful as he stepped away.
"Alright." She whispered, as the exhausted woman burrowed under the covers and her eyes fluttered closed.
Klein called for a jar of water and a plate of gingersnaps to be set by her bed. He'd heard many such promises and readied the usual remedies without hope.
But as he left the room Willow knew this time would be different.
'Don't worry, Klein.' She thought happily, a hand drifting over her stomach. 'I think I've found a new addiction.'
Right as Willow was settling into bed another Schnee was approaching the gates of the Manor.
The security guard monitoring the gate cameras were startled at her presence- in the first second he'd thought there must have been some kind of mistake- hadn't he just let her in? Then he saw her posture and knew there was no way it could be the same woman.
The caller wore an Atlesian Dress Uniform with the austerity of an elite officer and the effortless elegance of a beautiful woman.
"Major Winter Schnee, Liaison Officer to Vale."
She said crisply. "Open the gates at once."
The guards needed no further prompting. The gates flung open. No one came to escort her.
Of all Willow's children, Winter was the one that most and least resembled her. The eldest Schnee daughter inherited her mother's looks, stature and figure to a remarkable degree, but you would never mistake one for the other. Both were blue blood socialites of the highest pedigree, but where Willow was lackadaisical, malleable and self indulgent, Winter carried herself with rigid discipline and a sense of purpose that was almost terrifying.
Even in her youth Winter had been the more imposing of the two, and as she strode into Schnee Manor the servants at the door reflexively treated her as the rightful lady of the house, and not it's disinherited daughter.
"Good evening." She said cooly, nodding to the major-domo, who had come to greet her in the most effusive terms.
"Miss Schnee." He fawned. "What a tremendous surprise! I'm afraid we don't have your room ready at the moment, but if you give us a half an hour we can-"
"-That won't be necessary." She said sharply.
The man deflated. "But Miss Schnee," he said hesitantly "surely you-"
"I have an appointment with Father." She said. "I won't be long."
The man sighed. "Very well." He said, stepping aside. As she made her way to the office, the rest of the staff scurried out of her way. But there was one pest that insisted upon making his presence known.
"So, the prodigal daughter returns."
Winter's head whipped around.
"Whitley." She said evenly.
Her younger brother was longing against a baluster by the staircase. He, like her younger sister, shared her father's more slender build, but where Weiss had a petite and graceful figure of a full grown woman, Whitley's body was still awkward and gangly, fitting for a boy in his early teens. His awkwardness never seemed to make its way into his manner, however, he was always impeccably groomed and sharp with his words, even if his voice still cracked every now and then.
"I meant prodigy." He said playfully. "Simple slip of the tongue. Wonderful Winter, a master at everything she does, come to grace us with her presence. 'Prodigal' really doesn't suit you at all. No one could ever accuse you of wasting anything… except maybe your time."
"Whitely." She said icily. "I didn't come here for a vocabulary lesson."
"Oh, but I think it would suit you." He said affably. "After all, words are the most powerful weapons in the world, wouldn't you agree? That's why the Atlesian Command has seen fit to employ your valuable talents as a paper pusher. A charming young lady such as yourself would be wasted on the front lines... you're so much more useful at cocktail parties."
There was a hard glint in her eyes, a slight pinching in the corner of her mouth. Few people could get under her skin, but her brother was so damnably good at it.
"Funny you should mention that." She said. "I was just about to discuss that with Father."
She turned away, having no desire to deal with her brother's cheek.
"...Are you really that determined to get yourself killed?"
She stopped.
As Willow turned back around she saw no trace of mockery on Whitley's features, but plenty of bitterness.
"...This isn't about me." She said gently. "Atlas needs every man and woman it can get. When the entire Kingdom is on the verge of collapse, we can't afford to waste officers on cocktail parties. Our people need me."
"Our people need lien to buy bombs and bullets." Whitley countered, "What is it they say again? 'Amateurs study tactics, professionals study logistics.'" He shrugged. " You're serving Atlas just fine as it is- it's not like they have spare Schnee's running around."
Winter said nothing.
"But you never wanted to be a Schnee, did you?" Whitley said coldly.
Winter sighed.
"It's funny, in a way. When you went off to go play soldier you left us in the trenches."
Winter took a step closer to her younger brother, unsure of what to say. "Whitley, I-"
His face shifted and the moment was gone. "Oh, don't apologize, you fool." He said, brushing her off in a sweeping motion. "You're just one less rival I need out of my way. You did me a favor."
Winter's mask came back on. " I suppose I should be glad you see it that way."
Whitley's voice stopped her in her tracks once more as she turned to leave.
"Father's in a private conference with Weiss at the moment." Whitley said. "He seemed rather cross; I doubt he'd appreciate being interrupted."
"We had an appointment." Winter said.
"Oh, did you?" Whitley mused. "Well, he did pull her aside at the last minute. Must have been an honest mistake..." He shrugged.
Winter showed no emotion. It was disrespectful, making her come out of her way only to keep her outside his office and waste her time, but that was precisely the point- Jacques was the kind of man who could afford to waste her time. And the worst possible response would be to let him see he'd gotten to her.
Whitley smirked at her poker face. "You're even better at this than I remember." He mused. "Brown nosing the brass must have given you plenty of practice."
Winter allowed herself a strategic smirk. "One does have to be good at what they do." She said. "How's mother?"
Whitley rolled his eyes. "I'm afraid you just missed her." He said. "She came back from another bender. Of course, with you out and about, Klein was the one who had to bring her back this time."
"He went out to get her?" She asked. The last time she'd come back to the Manor had been to help her mother, who was making a scene at a local bar. Some pervert felt up her ass for her trouble.
"No, some good samaritan dropped her off at the gate." He said dismissively. "We're lucky he didn't hold her for ransom.
Winter sighed. "How are you?"
Whitley shrugged. "Fine." He said dismissively.
"And Weiss?"
Whitley shook his head dryly. "Rather less fine." He said to himself.
The sound of shouting echoed from Father's study.
Winter moved quickly to interrupt.
Whitley shook his head. "Always a pleasure, sis." he muttered to himself.
"Blake is not a terrorist!"
Weiss's eyes were furious as she glared at her father, her face was flushed and her limbs were trembling. Jacques sat behind his desk with a cool expression.
"Hello, dear." He said, not bothering to look at the interloper.
Weiss turned around.
"W-Winter?" She sputtered.
"Father and I need to talk." Winter said. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but-"
"It's fine." He said, turning to Weiss. "Leave." He said, waving her out of the room. "We'll continue this later."
Weiss glared at him for a moment before storming away… until she passed Winter.
The older girl was startled as her sister wrapped her arms around her back.
"It's good to see you." She whispered.
Winter smiled before returning the embrace.
"Likewise." She said, before letting go and shooing her out of the room.
Jacques pinched his temples as Winter sat down before him.
"Why are children always so difficult?" He mused to himself.
He looked expectantly at Winter, who sat stone faced and left the ball in his corner.
He sighed, before passing a binder over to her.
"Can you tell me what's wrong with this picture?" He asked casually.
Winter indulged him, and opened the binder.
It was a budget proposal. Weiss had outlined a series of events that were projected to generate Ⱡ32 million in revenue, against a debt of Ⱡ27,889,552. The debt was to Jacques Schnee.
"I generally find doing any kind of business with you to be inadvisable." She said.
Jacques smirked. "And yet here you are."
"Sometimes duty requires unpleasant tasks."
Jacques sighed. "Turn to page 12."
Winter obliged. Sitting before her was an image of an eye catching cat faunus, with dark hair and an hourglass figure. Winter recognized the girl as the daughter of the Belladonnas.
"They're scheduled to do a photoshoot together." Jacques said dryly. "For a school calendar."
"And the problem is...?" Winter asked.
"The problem?" He said incredulously. "The Belladonnas helped found the White Fang! They're responsible for the deaths of my colleagues, my employees, our Kingdom, and to this day they're doing everything in their power to lobby the government to hamstring my business! If Weiss wants to play dress up with her friends, that's her business, but going into a public business venture that ties her image with a sworn enemy of the family is unacceptable."
"You've never been one to let petty things like that get in the way of a good deal." Winter said.
Jacques shook his head. "But it isn't a good deal. What she owes me is peanuts, and if we're associated with the Fang in any way, that hurts us financially. It spooks our partners, something you should be well aware of."
'Everything goes back to the Reds and Blues.'
"No one would ever mistake you for a friend of the Fang." Winter said dryly.
Jacques huffed. "And I'd rather keep it that way."
Jacques wasn't fixated on the fact that the Belladonnas were Faunus- there was a bunny girl in the collection that was beneath his notice. All that mattered to Jacques was the balance sheet; he was an equal opportunity asshole.
"I think you ought to applaud Weiss's initiative." Winter said calmly.
"How do you figure that?" Jacques asked.
"Diplomacy isn't just for dealing with friends." Winter said. " If we can't work with our enemies, we'll never stop being enemies. As small as this is, a Schnee cooperating with a prominent Faunus could ease tensions, create opportunities for future agreements."
Jacques' lips turned upwards. "You've been spending too much time at the embassy."
"Who's fault is that?"
Jacques looked at her innocently.
"I put in a transfer request last month, and was assured by General Green that it would be approved. With so many cadets being forced out of academies and on to the front lines, a graduate of Atlas would almost be guaranteed a command back home- people are dying for a lack of leadership. Imagine my surprise when the General stopped taking my calls, and one week later my request was rejected.
"The ineptitude of military bureaucracy is beyond me." Jacques said coolly.
"You had dinner with the General two weeks ago." Winter said.
Jacques smiled. "Atlas has devolved into a military dictatorship." He said simply. "As a prominent citizen, I don't have much choice but to play politics."
"Who dictates to whom?" Winter asked.
Jacques looked at her, amused.
"The SDC has been selling a large portion of its output to the Atlesian Military at cost." She said. "You're not the type to give something for nothing."
Jacques lounged back. "We have to win the war, don't we? I find it's better to place yourself on the winning side."
"And if the victors are in your pocket, so much the better. You could draw the map for the new political landscape." Winter said. "We both know that without Schnee Dust the war effort would grind to a halt. As much as they'd like you dead, there isn't a man on staff who'd refuse you a favor."
"Then why am I here?" Jacques said. "If I have as much control as you think, why flee the country? Why not get a company of soldiers to guard my estate 24/7?"
"Better safe than sorry." Winter said. "It's harder for the Reds to assassinate you when you're thousands of miles away. You can live in comfort outside of a Kingdom surviving on rations. You may not have the pull to redeploy so many troops for your own protection, but you can afford your own company of bodyguards who are solely answerable to you. And you'd certainly have the pull to deploy a single soldier wherever you'd like."
Jacques let a small measure of pride creep into his smile. "You've inherited more of my brains than I'd thought." He laughed dryly. "Since you've figured it out, yes, I quashed your little transfer to Atlas. You mustn't blame the General; we both know I have him over a barrel. You should be able to see through the bluster and bravado by now."
"My career isn't your plaything!" Winter barked. " General Ironwood would never have let you-"
"General Ironwood is dead."
Winter but her tongue. Then she looked at him with a strange, icy expression, simultaneously murderous and horrified.
"Father." She said slowly, and detachedly. "Did you…?"
Jacques understood.
"Oh heavens, no!" He said, laughing. "I wish I could get away with something like that, and I'm certainly happy he's gone, but even I'm not bold enough to assaasinate the de facto Head of State at the start of a National Address, in the most secure facility in the entire Kingdom, no less. How that half-cocked plan actually came together amazes me just as much as anyone, and who's lost more from the subsequent collapse than me? Do you know how many trillions your color coded comrades have turned to rubble?"
Winter sighed. She believed him. "So, you plan on turning lemons into lemonade."
Jacques nodded. " Behind all the guff, Mantle has always belonged to a strongman. Ironwood, Lagune, the Lord Protectors… James played his part more deftly and subtly than most, but there's no one of his caliber left; someone will have to take his place."
And who was better positioned to be that man than Jacques? Most of Atlas's major companies had either fled or gone bankrupt or been absorbed by the state, which was increasingly beholden to the military, which was increasingly in the pocket of the Schnees. The last few years had been spent solidifying their standing in the other Kingdoms and buying off more and more of the high command.
"When the dust settles, SDC Dust will flow into the Kingdom- we'll buy up the ruins for pennies on the dollar and rebuild Atlas in our image and likeness."
"There is no we." Winter said sharply.
Jacques shook his head. "We both want the same thing, dear; only for different reasons. You want to win the war? How do you propose to do it without me? You want Atlas restored to her former glory? Who else can do it? Adolescent rebellion aside, you're going to serve the SDC." He chuckled wryly. "It's oddly fitting- you joined the military to spite me, yet for all intents and purposes I am your commanding officer. You were meant for this, Winter."
There was no sign of distress or weakness in Winter's expression; only a violent tempest in the icy pools of her eyes.
She clenched her first and cooled her tongue.
"Permission to speak freely, sir?"
Jacques allowed himself an amused grin. "Granted."
"Why go to all this trouble over me?" She asked. "You have an empire you're trying to build, and only so many favors you can call in. Why waste them on keeping me from the frontlines? Wouldn't you rather get labor concessions, or seized property, or some contract deal? I'm not your heiress, I'm out of the line of succession, you don't even like me."
Jacques sighed, and stared at his hands for several seconds.
"That may be true." He said softly. "But you're still my daughter."
Winter's eyes widened. She'd never heard her father speak like that. Frankly, it made her uncomfortable.
He must have felt the same way, because he ruined the mood as quickly as possible. "At the very least you have half my genes. That makes you more valuable than the common trash we throw into that meat grinder."
Winter grit her teeth and settled back into a comfortable dislike of the man.
"Will that be all sir?" She asked, rising to leave.
The 'sir' was respectful… too respectful- it's very dignity seemed to chastise her father for not having earned that respect. He shrugged.
"So long as we understand one another."
"I understand you crystal clear, sir." She said, marching out of the room with a strained composure.
"One more thing, Major." He said, using her title with the same mocking, unearned dignity. His eyes were on the symbol on her uniform's lapel, where a Captain's bars had sat not two weeks earlier. " My congratulations on the promotion."
Winter slammed the door on her way out.
Amber sat sourly on her sofa as she watched yet another rerun of the Bachelor.
Normally the show was one of her favorites- a gaggle of girls all competing for the attention of a lucky, attractive man in outlandish and amusing ways. But now the jokes landed a little too close to home.
It was obvious this episode that Ally was going to be voted off. She had no real chemistry with the lead, she didn't even like him, she obviously was just there to fill out the cast and have a good time. So why did it sting so much?
She looked at the pile of romcoms she'd picked out dismissively, and glowered at the spread of snacks she'd laid out on the table. She knew Jaune had a ridiculous appetite, and thought it would be an unexpected treat for him. She didn't know why she bothered- every second looked at it worsened her mood.
Her eyes darted back to her phone, and the message Jaune had sent almost an hour ago, letting her know that he'd be a little late but he was on his way.
'I ought to slam the door in his face.' She thought crabbily. How dare he stand her up like this for some big tittied bimbo. There were plenty of guys she could call up who would be happy to play dildo for a night- even if none of them was even half his size-
Knock-knock-knock .
Amber cursed her own weakness as she rushed to the door. She was wearing nothing save an oversized t-shirt and a white pair of panties.
Jaune stood at her door with a smile, delightfully disheveled and still in his gym clothes. He reeked of sex and sweat.
Amber glared him as he walked into the room.
"So," he asked, glancing at the TV. "what do you want to start with?"
She crossed her arms under her chest. "...You were out fucking that bitch, weren't you?"
Jaune smiled. "A gentleman never kisses and tells."
"Cut the crap, Jaune." She said. "Did the old hag chicken out at the last minute, or did she just not do it for you?"
Jaune smirked insufferably. "Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies." His eyes darted over to the dining room tables. "Cheese and crackers?" He asked excitedly, stomach growling. "Oh, Amber, you shouldn't-"
She yanked his head down to hers. "Shut up and fuck me, you manwhore." she said, as she dragged him over to the couch. Jaune happily obliged.
Soon she was straddling him and grinding against his hips while he bit down hard on her neck.
Amber cried out in delight as his expert hands slipped off her clothes. It was so hard to stay in control him with him, but she was going to try. She would try.
"When I'm done with you," She moaned, smacking her lips against his. "you won't even remember that bitch's name."
Over the next few hours Jaune didn't forget Willow's name; Amber forgot hers. The movies laid forgotten by the TV, the snacks were snapped up after he had laid an exhausted Amber in bed. As he settled in by her side for a good night's sleep, Jaune mused on the newest turn in his life.
' I love competition .'