Chapter 34: Warm Cold

—" impossible ".Biju/Beast Talking.

—" for her ", Character Thought.

—" How can I forget you? ", Thoughts of Biju/Summon/Beast.

—"interesting ." Character speaking.

No character from Naruto or the RWBY series belongs to me, this work is for mere entertainment, thank you in advance for reading this fanfic

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It had been a long time since her last visit to that place. The frigid air, sharp as ice needles, greeted her with a rawness that chilled her to the bone.

Weiss had grown so accustomed to the warm, enveloping climate of the kingdom of Vale that the frigid cold of her ancestral home felt like an affront, a painful reminder of what she had left behind.

Weiss Schnee had returned home to the majestic Schnee Mansion, a bastion of elegance and coolness that stood imposingly against the snowy horizon. Yet in her heart, she longed to be anywhere else. Every snowflake that fell, every gust of icy wind, rekindled memories she'd rather keep buried deep within her memory.

Despite growing up within the walls of this ice fortress, Weiss had never felt an affinity for the cold. The irony didn't escape her notice: her family, the Schnee, were intrinsically linked to the very essence of this inhospitable climate. Perhaps, she thought, the exception to the rule had been her great-grandfather, a free-spirited pirate whose exploits resonated in the pages of family history.

As she walked through the halls of the mansion, Weiss felt the weight of the traditions and expectations that had imprisoned her for so long.

The cold not only surrounded her, but also seemed to emanate from the walls, from the portraits of her ancestors, from the very atmosphere of the place. It was a cold that reminded her of the loneliness, pressure, and lack of freedom she had experienced in her childhood.

After the devastating fall of the Kingdom of Vale, her father, with relentless insistence, had brought her back to the frigid Schnee Manor. Weiss, with a burning rebellion within her, had flatly refused. Her pleas turned into heated arguments, and these, in turn, into physical confrontations with her father's guards. Every blow, every attempt at resistance, was a manifestation of her desperation. In the end, the superior numbers and skill of her father's hunters broke her. Weiss, still in training, found herself powerless against the overwhelming force surrounding her. Not even the hope of help from her friends could materialize.

Blake, always enigmatic, had fled amidst the chaos. Weiss's heart broke at her companion's departure. The friendship she'd thought was solid as ice had vanished into the mists of uncertainty. She wondered if their friendship had ever meant anything, if Blake had even seemed to share her concerns before disappearing into the night.

Yang, her battle companion, lay in a deep lethargy, a victim of the wounds inflicted during the fall of Vale. The loss of her arm was a constant reminder of the fragility of life and Weiss's helplessness in the face of the suffering of her loved ones. Guilt consumed her, a paralyzing chill spreading from within.

As for their leader, Ruby Rose, uncertainty reigned. They found her at the top of the Beacon Academy tower, unconscious, her aura dangerously weakened. Concern mingled with confusion, as Weiss wondered what secrets their leader's fainting spell concealed.

Naruto's absence weighed heavily on her heart. The reports from Ren, Nora, and Jaune had left her stomach in knots. Naruto had stayed behind to face Sasuke, a name that evoked visceral fear in Weiss. She had witnessed the magnitude of Sasuke's power, a force that defied all logic and reason. The thought of Naruto facing such a monstrosity filled her with dread.

Despite the darkness surrounding her, Weiss clung to the hope that Naruto had survived. However, the reality was grim. The devastation she had witnessed, the cities reduced to rubble by the battle between Naruto and Sasuke, made her fear the worst. The possibility that her friend had perished in the conflict was a thought that tormented her, a stinging chill settling into her soul.

Ultimately, Weiss found herself back home, a place that evoked more resentment than warmth. The Schnee mansion, with its imposing presence and icy atmosphere, stood as a constant reminder of her dysfunctional family. Her father, a man whose ambition and cruelty knew no bounds, wielded his power with an iron fist. Her mother, a distant and ethereal figure, had retreated into a world of shadows, absent both physically and emotionally. And her younger brother, an arrogant and disdainful being, seemed to delight in the misery of others.

As for Winter, Weiss's older sister, disappointment was a bitter feeling that settled in her heart. Winter, always distant and reserved, had completely immersed herself in her military duties. Not even in these times of tribulation, when Weiss most needed familial support, had Winter offered a word of comfort or a gesture of affection. The distance between them had become an icy abyss, impenetrable and unbridgeable.

Weiss had secluded herself in her room, seeking refuge in solitude. The outside world, with its uncertainties and tragedies, seemed distant and alien. She ignored Ruby's fate, was unaware of Yang's condition, and refused to care about Blake. Her former teammate's betrayal had left a deep wound, a scar that refused to heal. Blake had chosen the path of flight, abandoning her friends in their moment of greatest need. Weiss wasn't willing to forgive that desertion.

However, there was one worry that consumed her thoughts, a restlessness that kept her awake at night. Naruto. The image of her friend, facing a formidable enemy, haunted her. She needed to know if he was alive, if he had survived the battle. That was the only certainty amidst the confusion and chaos: the need to know that Naruto was safe.

And there she was, once again, in her room, gazing out the window at the snowy landscape. Sunrises, sunsets, and evenings had merged into a gray monotony, where the passage of time had become indistinguishable.

The sunlight seemed to refuse to penetrate the frigid atmosphere that enveloped the Schnee mansion, or perhaps, Weiss thought, it was her own perception that had become clouded, unable to discern the difference between day and night.

To navigate the labyrinth of time, Weiss relied on an ostentatious wooden clock hanging on the wall of his room. An object he fervently detested, a relic of opulence and bad taste. Although he knew the mechanics of its hands and how to interpret its numbers, it seemed absurd to rely on such an archaic device. Why bother deciphering the hands' position when her personal scroll gave him the exact time, in clear and precise numbers?

Opulence, Weiss reflected, was a burden she had learned to despise. The simplicity of life in Vale, with its practicality and functionality, had taught her to value utility over ostentation. The wooden watch, with its top-quality case, gold hands, and platinum gears, was a symbol of everything he rejected. In contrast, her scroll, with its digital clock, music player, camera, and multiple functions, represented the modernity and practicality she so valued.

Yes, perhaps her thoughts sounded like those of a spoiled child, but in her situation, rebellion was her only way out. She wanted so badly to leave the Schnee mansion, to free herself from the chains of her past, and find her own path. She longed for freedom, for the company of her friends.

The idea of escape had crossed her mind countless times, but the cunning of her father, Jacques Schnee, was a formidable obstacle. She had to acknowledge, with a mixture of resentment and admiration, that her father's intelligence was an undeniable legacy.

Jacques had deployed an impenetrable security network around the mansion. Highly trained hunters, veterans with years of experience, watched every corner of the estate. Not a single step could be taken without his father knowing.

The surveillance was constant, relentless, an invisible cage that kept her prisoner.

This was the reality of Weiss Schnee, a bird who had believed she had freed herself from her golden cage, only to find herself trapped between its bars once again.

The illusion of freedom had faded, revealing the harsh reality of her captivity. The Schnee Manor had become her personal prison.
As in her childhood, Weiss sheltered at her bedroom window, gazing out at the snowy landscape. Her eyes searched for a vanishing point, a sign of hope that would allow her to escape her confinement. She longed for the arrival of a savior, a brave soul to rescue her from her gilded cage. She dreamed of the day she could spread her wings and fly far from the Schnee Manor, far from her father's control, far from the loneliness that consumed her.

Weiss, her gaze fixed on the horizon beyond her window, murmured, almost to herself, —"I suppose the clock has already struck eight in the morning." The scene unfolding before her was a picture of persistent melancholy. The view hadn't changed since her childhood: a desolate garden where plant life seemed to have given way to aridity, a wasteland of skeletal branches and a solitary bench.

However, since returning to the mansion, a new element had been added to the somber composition: the figure of her mother, Willow Schnee, sitting stonily still on that bench. A chilly breeze slithered through the bare branches, and Weiss couldn't help a pang of worry.

—"Doesn't she feel the cold?" she wondered softly, knowing there would be no answer. The sight of her mother, so fragile and exposed to the elements, stirred in her a mixture of unease and curiosity.

Every morning, like an unbreakable ritual, Willow would sit on the bench at the crack of dawn, remaining there until noon. Then, her faithful butler, Klein, would escort her back to the mansion, where she would surely grab a cooler before returning to her post in the garden. And so, day after day, the routine was repeated, a silent dance that culminated at nightfall.

Weiss found herself absorbed in a labyrinth of questions. What secret longing kept her mother captive on that bench? What hope or memory drove her to keep that daily appointment? And above all, what meaning lay behind that distant gaze, those eyes that seemed to search for something beyond the visible horizon?

Willow's expression was an enigma, a mixture of longing and resignation, as if she were waiting for the return of a ghost or the arrival of a long-delayed dream.

The Schnee mansion, with its imposing architecture and once-bustling halls, now seemed like a stage of shadows and silence. Echoes of the past resonated in the empty hallways, and Weiss felt that her mother, sitting on that bench, was the guardian of an ancient secret, a mystery that refused to be revealed. Every morning, seeing her there, Weiss wondered if she would ever be able to decipher the enigma hidden behind that gaze, if she would ever be able to understand the longing that kept Willow Schnee a prisoner of her own routine.

The scene in the garden was a visual poem, a metaphor for loneliness and waiting. The dry branches, like arms stretched out toward the sky, seemed to implore a rain that would never come. The bench, a silent witness to countless sunrises and sunsets, held within its depths Willow's secrets, the whispers of her memories, and the tears of her hopes. And Weiss, from her window, observed that scene with the same fascination as a poet contemplates an unfinished verse, searching in every detail for a clue that would bring her closer to her mother's heart.

Weiss, immersed in contemplating her mother's strange transformation, omitted a crucial detail from her previous reflections. The time that had passed since her departure from the mansion had left a palpable mark on Willow Schnee, a metamorphosis that baffled Weiss. The image that now presented itself before her eyes was that of a woman who seemed to have emerged from a slumber, a figure oscillating between lucidity and reverie.

The intoxicating fragrance of alcohol, once an omnipresent scent in her mother's presence, was gone. However, Weiss sensed a subtle haze, a shift in Willow's gaze that suggested an altered state of consciousness. Was this a new form of intoxication, an unknown elixir that had replaced liquor in her mother's veins? The answer eluded her, but one certainty remained: Willow, though capable of occasional conversation, did not entirely inhabit the same plane of reality as Weiss.

This glimpse of interaction, fleeting as it was, represented a complete novelty in the relationship between mother and daughter. Never in her living memory had Willow shown such a willingness to communicate.

It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing for a moment a glimpse of the person behind the facade of addiction.

As for her brother, the situation offered no major surprises. The young Schnee persisted in his seclusion, locked in his room like a hermit in his cell. What mysteries or machinations occupied his hours? Weiss was indifferent. Her only concern was that her brother maintain his distance, that he dare not disturb her peace with his presence or his machinations.

In the midst of her musings, Klein's voice echoed through the door, announcing the arrival of breakfast. —"Miss Schnee," the butler said in his usual courteous tone, —"I've brought your breakfast."

A sigh escaped Weiss's lips. The prospect of interacting with anyone, even the affable Klein, overwhelmed her. However, politeness, a quality rooted in her upbringing, prompted her to respond. She couldn't afford to be impolite, especially to Klein, the only inhabitant of that mansion she felt even the slightest bit of sympathy for.

With a polite gesture, Weiss indicated the entrance:— "You may come in, Klein."

Klein, with his characteristic diligence, carefully opened the door to the room. In his hands, he held a silver tray, the contents of which, presumably Weiss's breakfast, were hidden beneath a cover. Weiss, though aware of the need to nourish his body, felt a deep aversion to food. However, reason overcame desire, and he won the tray with a slight nod.

As Klein laid out breakfast on the table, Weiss watched him closely. He noticed a trace of unease on the butler's face, an expression familiar to him, but which at that moment seemed charged with a particular meaning.

— "Klein," Weiss began, her voice soft but firm, — "I've noticed some strange behavior from my mother lately. Could you explain to me what's going on?"

Klein hesitated for a moment, as if weighing his words. Then, in an enigmatic tone, he replied,— "Lady Willow is waiting."

— "Wait?" Weiss asked, frowning. — "Who are you waiting for?"

Klein lowered his gaze, as if afraid to reveal a forbidden secret. — "To a knight," he replied, his voice barely audible.

Weiss felt a chill run down her spine. Klein's response, far from clearing up her doubts, had intensified them. — "A knight?" Weiss repeated in disbelief. —"What kind of knight?"

Klein remained silent, his gaze fixed on the floor. Weiss felt a pang of frustration. She knew Klein had the answer, but something prevented him from revealing it.

—"Klein," Weiss insisted, her voice urgent. —"I need to know what's going on. My mother isn't well, and I'm afraid for her."

Klein looked up, and his eyes met Weiss's. In them, Weiss saw a mixture of loyalty and sadness.

—"Lady Weiss," Klein said, his voice solemn,— "Lady Willow is waiting for a knight who will come to her rescue."

Klein's words echoed in the room, laden with symbolism Weiss couldn't decipher. Rescue her from what? From whom? Questions raced through her mind, searching for an answer Klein couldn't or wouldn't give her.

—"And who is that knight ?" Weiss asked in a whisper.

Klein shook his head in resignation.
—"I can't say, Lady Weiss," he replied. —"I can only say that Lady Willow is looking forward to it."

-{}-

With a precise motion, Weiss executed a devastating, spinning slash, right at the junction of the robotic elbow. The metal gave way with a metallic screech, and the limb was torn from the automaton's body. There were no screams, no moans, only the dry sound of metal breaking. For Weiss, the absence of suffering was a relief; the thought of inflicting such damage on a living being tormented her.

The fight wasn't for victory, but for containment. Weiss nimbly ducked, dodging a blow that would have shattered her stance. With a sweep of her legs, she brought the robot down, its metallic body crashing to the ground. Without hesitation, she plunged her weapon into the machine's chest, piercing its heart. Then, she activated a hidden mechanism, releasing a burst of Electro Dust that melted the robot's internal circuits, rendering it inert.

A second automaton swung at her, seeking to crush her with its brute force. Weiss spun around, dodging the blow by a millimeter's margin.

The young hunter summoned a glyph beneath her feet, propelling herself forward with a burst of speed. The robot, despite its advanced reaction programs, was unable to keep up with her movements. Weiss moved at a speed that still made her dizzy, a feeling of vertigo and tunnel vision that accompanied her every time she increased her speed. Despite years of training, she couldn't completely master that sensation. She wondered how her sister Winter did it, if she had even found a way to overcome that limit. Perhaps, one day, Winter would share that secret with her.

It was a blessing that her glyphs allowed her to stop precisely, changing direction in an instant. Normally, Weiss avoided using this extreme speed in combat, as the inertia upon stopping was brutal. She limited herself to a manageable speed boost. But the situation demanded more, and Weiss adapted.

With a precise blow, he drove his weapon like a stake into the robot's leg, piercing the ground. The machine was immobilized, trapped in the pavement. Weiss, with his free hands, grabbed the robot's head. His right hand closed over the metal chin, while his left gripped the top of the skull. With a sharp 180-degree twist, followed by an upward jerk, the robot's head detached from its body with a metallic crunch.

The battle against the robots had been surprisingly simple. These automatons, with their advanced processing software and improved reaction times, represented a new generation of threats. However, they were no match for Weiss's skill and determination.

The young hunter moved with lethal grace, her sword tracing arcs of light as she parried the attacks. Every blow was precise, every movement calculated. Weiss didn't allow herself a moment of hesitation, her focus unwavering. The fight wasn't just a test of skill, but also of endurance. Weiss knew she had to remain on her toes, that any mistake could be fatal.

Some observers might question her current fighting style, and rightly so. Weiss didn't usually fight this way. Her usual technique was elegant, methodical, and precise, each blow executed with calculated coolness. The brutality that now emanated from her movements was a stark contrast to her usual style.

In fact, his fighting style had undergone a radical change. His movements, the way he handled his rapier, were eerily reminiscent of the way Naruto had fought on numerous occasions.

Weiss had secretly watched Naruto in the Beacon Academy training hall, fascinated by his technique. She had watched him train countless times, both in the academy and in the surrounding forests, often following him undetected.

Despite their opposing styles, they shared a common focus on precision and speed. However, the brutality with which Naruto fought was something Weiss had never possessed. Naruto's fighting style wasn't that of someone trained to fight Grimm, but rather that of a warrior accustomed to facing humans. His attacks were always aimed at vital points, with a ferocity that suggested an unsettling familiarity with human anatomy.

Weiss wondered what experiences had shaped Naruto's fighting style, what battles had driven him to adopt such a ruthless technique.

Now, with everything that had happened since the fall of the Kingdom of Vale, Weiss recognized the effectiveness of Naruto's style to annihilate any opponent.

She'd been going over his movements in her mind every day, during every training session, striving to mimic them as best she could. It was the closest she could get to her friend/crush, an unofficial relationship that filled her with regret. She regretted not having confessed her feelings, for having missed so many opportunities.

However, Weiss was aware that she was far from reaching Naruto's level. She was missing something, a spark he possessed that she couldn't replicate. Every time she tried to imitate his movements, frustration set in. No matter how much she studied his techniques, no matter how much she tried to predict his actions, she couldn't match him. She felt like an automaton, unable to capture the essence of his style. But despite her frustration, Weiss persevered, progressing slowly, step by step.
Weiss looked at the battlefield; a dozen dismembered robots lay at her feet. It had taken her exactly five minutes to eliminate them. A sigh of frustration escaped her lips.

—"Naruto would have finished them off in two," she murmured, her voice thick with deceit. The comparison was inevitable, and the result, disheartening. Weiss knew it wasn't fair to compare herself to Naruto, that he was an exceptional warrior, but she couldn't help but feel inferior. The image of Naruto, moving with inhuman speed and precision, seared itself into her mind, impressing upon her the distance that still separated her from her goal.

In Weiss's mind, Naruto was an exceptional figure, an individual who transcended known limits. She had to admit, he was her superior in every way, far surpassing any other student at Beacon. Naruto had never lost a sparring match at the academy, a feat that, while impressive, was not unique. Pyrrha was also invincible, an unstoppable force.

In fact, at first glance, Naruto didn't seem to stand out in any particular way. He was attractive, athletic, intelligent... but let's not get off topic.

The point was that Naruto stood out from everyone else, but not in a way that made him seem unreachable. Or so Weiss and many of her classmates told themselves, especially Yang, who had suffered a humiliating defeat at Naruto's hands in combat class.

Weiss recorded Yang's words, her voice thick with frustration and a hint of admiration, "It's like he has a sixth sense, like he can anticipate every move." Weiss had heard similar comments from other students, all of them baffled by Naruto's ability to predict and counter their attacks. Even the teachers seemed intrigued by his technique, a blend of speed, precision, and an almost supernatural intuition.

But everything changed that day, the day the Breach shook the Kingdom of Vale. When Roman Torchwick, using his Machiavellian cunning, destroyed the underground passages connecting Mountain Glen to Vale, unleashing a horde of Grimm that invaded the city, Naruto's true nature came to light.

Weiss remembered that day with a mixture of frustration and fear. She remembered her confrontation with Sasuke, the humiliation of being mercilessly outclassed. She and her team were crushed, with no chance to fight back. Every time they thought they had an advantage, Sasuke took control, dominating the situation with chilling coldness. They were on the brink of death, and only Sasuke's mercy allowed them to survive.

Not even Glynda Goodwitch, one of Remnant's most powerful Hunters, could stand against Sasuke. The normally unflappable professor was defeated without even managing to wound him. Weiss also remembered the arrival of Qrow Branwen, the legendary black-haired, red-eyed Hunter whose reputation preceded his presence. She had researched him, uncovering a history of exploits that made him a legend among Hunters.

But neither Goodwitch, nor Qrow, nor any other hunter present could harm Sasuke. They were all easily overpowered, demonstrating a vast difference in their abilities.

Despair took hold of Weiss, a feeling of helplessness in the face of such a powerful enemy.

That's when Naruto appeared.

The confrontation they witnessed was of a unique nature, a dance of brutality and primal power. Both combatants refused to give ground, the spilled blood testifying to the ferocity of the clash. And, most shocking of all, Sasuke was injured.

Disbelief gripped Weiss when she heard that Naruto had faced Sasuke alone, that he had fought on equal terms against that monster. It was inconceivable to her. If four aspiring Hunter students hadn't even managed to graze him, if not even Qrow Branwen and Glynda Goodwitch had been able to inflict any damage, how was it possible that Naruto, a Beacon student like them, had been able to match up to such an adversary?

But it happened.

At that moment, Weiss realized the magnitude of the gap that separated her from Naruto. It seemed to her that no matter how hard she tried, she would never be able to close the distance between them.

Envy gnawed at Weiss, a bitter feeling mixed with frustration at her own weakness. She felt powerless, aware that she would never reach Naruto's level.

The hopelessness of the invasion, knowing that her ability was stagnating, that at this rate, even if she managed to escape the mansion, she wouldn't stand a chance against Sasuke or Cinder Fall, or any other formidable enemy.

The image of Naruto, fighting with a skill and power that seemed to transcend human limits, was seared into her mind, reminding her of the unbridgeable distance that separated them. Weiss felt like a spectator, watching from the shore as Naruto soared to unattainable heights.

—"I need a break," Weiss declared, her voice thick with frustration. She left the training room, looking for a space where she could clear her mind, where she could rethink her training strategy. She knew she had to find a new approach, a way to overcome her limitations. The battle against the robots had been a brutal reminder of her own inadequacy, of the need to evolve, to transform into a stronger, more capable hunter.

Weiss promised herself that she wouldn't give up, that she would find a way to reach her potential, to rise to the occasion.

-{}-

Phew, how tiresome! Weiss felt like a fish trapped in a glass bowl; she'd explored every damn corner of that mansion. She'd sneaked into the servants' quarters, snooped around the kitchen, run around the playgrounds... She'd seen every last vase! There were only two forbidden areas left: her father's office and her parents' bedroom.

And to top it all off, her parents slept in separate rooms. Weiss had never crossed the threshold of either of those private sanctuaries.

Her father's chamber had always seemed like an impenetrable mystery, a place where plans were drawn up and decisions made that affected the entire Schnee empire. The mere thought of entering there filled her with a mixture of curiosity and disgust, as if she were about to discover her family's deepest secrets.

As for her mother, well, she only used her room to sleep. Before Weiss left for Beacon, her mother would hole up in her "private room," a cubbyhole filled with books and bottles of expensive wine. Weiss never saw her read a single page, but she did see her empty more than a few bottles.

But since returning to the mansion, her mother had changed her routine. She no longer locked herself in her private room or was seen with a drink in her hand. Although Weiss suspected she was still secretly drinking, she had no proof. But she wouldn't be surprised in the least.

And since she'd grown bored of exploring every nook and cranny of the mansion, and since she wasn't much of a fan of social media, Weiss decided to take a stroll through the gardens. Although calling them "gardens" was a euphemism, they were more of a frozen wasteland, arid land deadened by the region's cold. All that could be seen were dried twigs of what had once been flowers.

So Weiss ventured into that icy landscape, and without realizing it, she found herself walking toward her mother. She saw her sitting there, her gaze lost in thought. The butler's words came back to her:

—"Your mother is expecting a knight."

Weiss had nothing better to do, and maybe today, just maybe, a heartbreak, or perhaps a desperate need to have a conversation with her mother, to get some advice, even if it wasn't what she was hoping for, or at least to know if she was okay, even if she wouldn't admit it out loud, Weiss cared a lot about her mother.

He approached her cautiously, as if afraid of breaking a spell. His mother stared off into the distance, lost in her own thoughts. Weiss stopped a few feet away, not knowing what to say.

—"Good afternoon, Mother," Weiss said with her usual politeness.

—"Weiss, dear," Willow replied with a friendly smile, albeit one that held a hint of surprise. It wasn't often that her daughter approached her to chat, let alone say hello. And Willow knew that, in large part, that attitude was her own fault. She had no excuses; that was just the way she was.

—"Can I sit down?" Weiss asked, gesturing to the empty space on the bench.

—"I'd love to," Willow said, patting the cold wood of the bench. Soon, her daughter sat down next to her. The silence that fell between them was a little awkward, yes, but for Willow, it wasn't at all pleasant. She didn't know how her daughter felt about this strange coexistence, but she liked it a lot. Sharing that space with her daughter, even if it was silent, was a kind of balm for her troubled soul.

They sat there for a long time. Weiss had no idea how much time had passed. An hour? Probably. But neither of them seemed inclined to move.

Willow watched her daughter out of the corner of her eye. Weiss stared off into the distance, her expression thoughtful. Willow wondered what she was thinking. Was she recording her days at Beacon? Was she worried about something?

—"How have you been, Mother?" Weiss asked, trying to break the ice.

—"I'm fine," Willow replied, her smile not reaching her eyes.

And once again, an awkward silence settled between them. Weiss shifted on the bench, her restlessness making her look like a bundle of nerves. Willow, on the other hand, remained serene, with a soft, contemplative smile.

A long sigh escaped Weiss's lips. Oh, the conversations with her mother! They always ended the same way: in a dead end. They had nothing to talk about, or so it seemed. And when they did try, it usually ended in scolding from Weiss, or evasiveness and melancholy from Willow. The end result was always the same: Weiss angry and Willow wallowing in her sadness.

—"It's a beautiful landscape," Willow said, her voice calm, pointing to the horizon.

Weiss followed his gaze and found a bleak landscape: dry twigs, snow, and more snow. Honestly, it was a disappointment. She could understand someone finding beauty in that frozen landscape, but she wasn't that person. She hated that place, with its perpetual cold and desolation.

—"Yes... it's very beautiful," Weiss said, more out of commitment than conviction. She didn't want to argue, didn't want to anger her mother. But she also couldn't pretend to see beauty where there was only desolation.

Willow was irritating, as if she knew her daughter wasn't being truthful. But she said nothing. She just stared at the landscape, her expression reflecting her own melancholy.

Weiss wondered what her mother was thinking. Was she reminiscing about better times? Or was she simply lost in her own thoughts, oblivious to everything around her?

—"Her beauty may not extend to the magnitude of colors that a River sunset or a Gem might present, but the simplicity of white that unfolds before my eyes is more beautiful to me," Willow said, her voice soft and contemplative.

—"PUUFgh," Weiss had to stifle a laugh. God! She really wanted to laugh. Those words! Damn! They sounded so much like Naruto. Honestly, the idiot got poetic from time to time and started saying strange things. Weiss understood the point of sounding elegant, but it was a stark contrast because Naruto wasn't elegant, Naruto was wild. Sure, he was polite, but Naruto's behavior was not at all what you would expect from a highborn man. And that was okay! Naruto wasn't someone of high birth. But hey, he tried to sound like one, it was just funny, it suited him, but no, it just wasn't funny, it wasn't funny to her.

—"jajajajaja," and then her mother started laughing too. Strange for Weiss, because she couldn't remember the last time her mother laughed. She remembered that she had laughed once, yes, but it was more because she was under the influence of alcohol. Any drunk laughs at anything, but this time her mother laughed gracefully, amused, her eyes lost in the horizon, remembering a beautiful memory. She knew it because she also made those eyes when she remembered Naruto.

Weiss was surprised to see her mother laugh like that. It was a genuine laugh, filled with joy, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. The image of her mother, always so serious and distant, faded for a moment, and Weiss saw the woman she had been before, the woman who had loved and cared for her.

Weiss's heart filled with an unexpected warmth. She wanted to join in her mother's laughter, to share that moment of happiness. But she didn't know how. She just smiled, looking at her mother with a mixture of surprise and tenderness.

—"I know, that just came out of nowhere, didn't it?" Her mother looked so relaxed, Willow leaned back on the bench, looking up at the snowy sky.

—"It sounds like what I said came from way back in the last century, doesn't it?" Willow's toothy laugh was dreamy. Wow, Weiss had to admit, her mother, despite being that age, didn't look like it. She was very beautiful; you wouldn't think she was 40; you looked like a woman of 28 or 30, very well preserved.

—"He did it all the time, it was so funny. Seriously, he'd always come up with some weird line while dazzling me with his oratory. I knew he was trying to sound cool, but it just didn't work. He's not like that, he was more of a barbarian, an adventurer. But when he tried to sound like a poet, I always marveled at him because his ambiguity was hilarious." Willow gave a slight smile, and Weiss raised an eyebrow. Who was 'he'?

—"Like when he would drag me out of my room to explore the entire kingdom of Atlas, or when he would start reading me a book and I would have to explain the words he didn't understand because he'd never heard them before," Willow continued, her gaze lost in her memories.

Weiss felt intrigued. Who was this man who had made her mother laugh, who had taken her to explore the kingdom, who had read books to her? A friend? A lover? The question burned on her tongue, but she didn't dare ask it.

Willow sighed, as if returning from a long journey.

—"He had a very peculiar way of seeing the world," she said, with a nostalgic smile.— "I always found beauty in the simplest things, in things that others overlooked. He taught me to see the world through different eyes."

Weiss remained silent, trying to process her mother's words. She had never seen her speak like this, with such passion and care. It was as if a part of her, a part that had been hidden for so long, was coming to light.

—"Let's see, let's see, who is this 'him' you keep talking about?" Weiss asked, frowning curiously.

—"My knight," Willow replied with a smile that didn't quite convince Weiss.

—"Your knight? What kind of knight is that?" Weiss insisted, crossing her arms.

—"One of those fairy tale knights, you know? With shining armor, brave, intelligent, and a lot of dreams," Willow explained, with a special sparkle in her eyes.

Weiss scratched the back of her neck, a little confused. —"So, this knight of yours... is he real or did you make him up?" she asked directly, albeit with a touch of tact. She was worried that her mother, with her history of alcoholism, was fantasizing.— "It's just, you know, with your thing..." she added softly.

Willow giggled softly and rubbed her hands together, as if she were cold.— "I wonder that sometimes, too," she confessed, her expression thoughtful.— "It's real. But sometimes I think my head's playing tricks on me, that loneliness has gotten to me so much that I've invented someone so I don't feel so alone."

Weiss was silent for a moment, processing the information.— "But... what's he like?" she finally asked, genuinely curious. —"I don't know. Tell me something else."

Willow excitedly, as if she were remembering a happy moment.— "He's... different," she said, with a sigh. —"He has a way of seeing the world that makes me feel like anything is possible. It's like he can see the beauty in the smallest things, and he makes me feel like I can see it too. Plus, he always makes me laugh, even when I'm sad. And he listens, really listens, like what I have to say is the most important thing in the world."

Weiss ascended, though she still wasn't entirely convinced. —"It sounds... special," she admitted. —"But where did you meet him? How come I've never seen him?"

Willow shrugged, giving a mysterious smile. —"It's a long story," she said.— "And maybe I'll tell it to you someday."

Wow, Willow's words made Weiss's heart skip a beat. She hadn't imagined her mother felt this way. She knew she was unhappy, but not that she felt so alone.
Although, in retrospect, she should have seen it coming. Her mother had married a man who didn't love her, who only loved her to get her fortune and her family name, and to give her three heirs: an older daughter who joined the army and disowned the family, herself, a second daughter who was following the same path, although she hadn't completely cut ties yet, and her younger brother, a brat who was the spitting image of his father.

Yes, Weiss felt foolish for not realizing that, in a way, she and Willow were the same: alone and miserable, trapped in a gilded cage.

But Willow had no one to lean on. Weiss, thank goodness, had her friends, and she hoped she still had them.

Weiss, eyebrow raised, looked at her mother. The image of this knight was a complete mystery. She knew Willow held him in high regard, but what was the guy really like?

—"Okay, Mom, spill the beans. What's this guy basically like?" Weiss asked, her tone a mix of curiosity and mild annoyance.

Willow, as if transported to another world, sighed. —"He's... like the sun. Pristine and profound!"

Weiss rolled her eyes.— "Aha, very poetic, but can you be a little more specific?"

Willow blinked, as if coming back to reality. —"Oh, yeah. He's blond and has blue eyes."

Weiss snorted.— "Why didn't you say that in the first place?!"

Willow shrugged, smiling mischievously.— "I like to add a touch of drama."

Weiss rolled her eyes, but couldn't help but smile. Her mother was one of a kind.— " Well, at least now I know she's not a green ogre," Weiss thought. Although, knowing her mother, you never knew. She'd once described a florist to her as 'a soul of petals and dew,' and he'd turned out to be a bald guy with a dragon tattoo on his arm.

Weiss remembered that she also had her own strange descriptions for her friends, especially Naruto.

—"I can't believe Mom would get all worked up over a guy," Weiss muttered to herself, as Willow continued rambling on about the mysterious blond's virtues.

—"It's like he's talking about a fairy tale prince," Weiss thought with a wry smile. —"Though, come to think of it, Naruto's no slouch with his epic descriptions."

She remembered the time Naruto had described a bowl of ramen to her as 'a symphony of flavors that transports you to paradise.' Weiss had ended up red-faced from laughing so hard, while Naruto continued his impassioned speech about the texture of the noodles.

—"I guess we all have our ways of seeing the world," Weiss concluded with a smile.

Weiss, frowning, asked the question that had been on her mind. —"So, Mom, is this guy... I don't know... a special friend or something more?"

The idea of her mother having a lover unnerved her. For heaven's sake, she didn't want to even imagine it. Willow and her father got along like cats and dogs; their marriage was a mere formality, but they were still married. If Willow wanted to find out about her elopement with the blond gentleman, she'd get a divorce first. Although just thinking about the legal battle gave her a headache. Imagine the bureaucracy a divorce from the wife of the richest man in the world would entail.

—"He's my knight," Willow replied, with a mysterious smile.

Weiss blinked. A knight? What was that supposed to mean? A childhood friend? A bodyguard with pretensions? A secret admirer? Weiss's imagination began to run wild, and not exactly into romantic scenarios.

— "Mom, could you be a little more clear? Because 'my knight' sounds like a character from a novel," Weiss said, with a hint of sarcasm.

Willow laughed. — "There's no other way to describe him. He's... my protector, my confidant, my... knight."

Weiss sighed. — " Okay, okay, I understand. He's your friend with knight-errant privileges," Weiss thought. — "Good thing he's not a secret lover," she told herself, trying to convince herself.— "Though, knowing Mom, you never know."

— "With a constancy bordering on the unwavering, I have observed that you occupy this same seat from dawn to dusk," Weiss began, his voice modulated gently, though the frigid blizzard of the region threatened to dissipate it. — "The waiting, no doubt, is consuming you."

— "That's right," Willow replied, her smile touchingly sweet. Her once dull eyes now radiated an ethereal glow, a reflection of emotions that tempered the cold air. — "Unfortunately, he was forced to leave, fulfilling an unavoidable commitment. His superior officers required his presence. Furthermore, the Vital Festival, an event he fervently looked forward to, offered him the opportunity to prove his worth. And, of course, the tragedy that befell the kingdom of Vale... I can only hope for his safety."

Weiss cleared her throat, a slight expression of discomfort at the information revealed. The mention of the fall of the Kingdom of Vale, an event widely reported by General Ironwood, wasn't exactly news.

And then, whoosh! The mention of the Vital Festival. Weiss's stomach tightened at the mention of 'my knight wanted to participate in that hunter competition.' Phew! It sounded like this knight was a novice, a hunter in his infancy. And she wasn't amused in the slightest. Normally, hunters-in-training were around her age, and the thought of her mother... hooking up? with one of those youngsters made her stomach churn.

Weiss stiffened as a board, but tried to maintain her composure. — "Okay, Weiss, calm down," she told herself.— "Not all hunters-in-training are critics." He could be a more mature guy, around 28 or 30, one of those who make a living fighting the Grimm with their swords, but who never managed to get into a reputable academy. One of those who make a living however they can, and who see the Vital Festival as a golden opportunity to make a name for themselves.

— "Yeah, that has to be it!" Weiss thought, praying to the sister gods that her theory was true. She couldn't imagine her mother, Schnee herself, flirting with a young man who could be her son. The thought made her gag! It would be like watching an old lion chasing gazelles!
And if people found out... Oh my goodness, the tabloids would have a field day!

["World First! The Schnee Matriarch and Her Hunter Toy-Boy!"] It would be the scandal of the century! Weiss imagined the headlines.

["Willow Schnee, Heart Hunter!" Or worse:["Senior Schnee, caught red-handed with a Heart Hunter back then!" The world would go to hell!

Weiss threw her hands up to her head. — " No, no, no! This can't be happening!" she gasped, her eyes wide.— "My mother can't be a… cougar!"

How horrible! Willow Schnee herself had become a hunter of youngsters! The world had gone mad!

Furthermore, her mother's mention of "officers" and "superiors" led Weiss to deduce that the hunter in question must belong to Atlas's military forces. The logic was irrefutable: Atlas was the only power in Remnant with an organized military.

— "Do you think she'll return?" Weiss inquired, careful not to convey malice or undermine her mother's hopes. However, the recent incursion into the kingdom of Vale had been an unprecedented event, a catastrophe Weiss had never imagined. In fact, no inhabitant of Remnant had ever witnessed an invasion of such magnitude. The ferocity of the attack had claimed numerous lives, both hunters and military and civilians. The knight her mother was referring to could have succumbed in the fighting.

To Weiss's surprise, Willow showed no signs of panic or questioned her daughter's concern. On the contrary, she remained unperturbed, even radiating an unusual serenity.

— "He will return, I'm sure of it, because he promised me," Willow said with conviction.— "I know that promises can be as fleeting as a piece of paper, often meaningless. However, for him, a promise is an unbreakable bond. He's proven this to me countless times, so I know that when he assures me of something, when he promises me something, he will keep his word. He will return to me."

Weiss certainly longed to possess the same security as her mother. The notion of an unbreakable promise, of someone who would never break their word, inevitably brought to mind the figure of Naruto. That knight in shining armor was beginning to look dangerously like... Naruto.

Weiss's eyes widened, and a cold sweat beaded on her forehead. The thought that had just crossed her mind was repulsive. Slowly, she turned her head toward her mother, unwilling to believe what her mind was suggesting. The possibility was, by all accounts, absurd, one in a million. However, Naruto had recounted his travels through Remnant during his youth, or rather, his relative youth.

The idea that Naruto and her mother had met in the past, and that she, Weiss, had completely ignored him, didn't seem entirely far-fetched to her. Back then, her life was focused exclusively on training, and everything else went unnoticed.

— "C-Could you t-tell me the name of this knight ?" Weiss asked in a trembling voice, stuttering at the magnitude of the revelation she was afraid to hear.

In an instant that transcended mere expectation, before Weiss's mother could even utter a murmur, a sigh, or trace a single letter in the frigid air, her expression transformed completely. Her eyes, which moments before had reflected the icy solitude of winter, opened with an unusual breadth, revealing a warm and loving glow. A smile, pure and radiant, lit her face, a smile that spoke of profound happiness, of a long-awaited reunion. It was the look of someone who sees a lost friend after years of separation, or the joy of a maiden who, at last, finds her beloved after an endless wait. Her presence was filled with a light that radiated affection, a joy that flooded the air, as if a warm breeze had dissipated the icy cold.

Weiss, intrigued by her mother's sudden metamorphosis, turned her gaze to where she was staring so intently. Her eyes, like her mother's, widened in surprise at the sight before them. Through the thick snow and frigid air, a male figure was approaching with a firm stride, leaving footprints in the snow.

His attire, an impeccable military uniform of the Atlas army, revealed his rank.

The narrow stripes adorning his shoulders and chest indicated his position: specialist! Weiss instantly recognized that rank, the same one her older sister held.

The man who appeared before them radiated a presence that commanded attention. His sky-blue eyes sparkled with a liveliness that contrasted sharply with his untamed, wild blond hair, which seemed to have a life of its own. A confident smile curved his lips, revealing a confidence that seemed to emanate from the depths of his being.

Weiss, transfixed by the scene, found herself unable to utter a word. She had never imagined her mother would speak of a knight, much less that that knight would be, of all people, this man. A whirlwind of emotions swept through her, a mixture of surprise, curiosity, and a hint of bewilderment.

It wasn't long before the man approached them, with the grace and bearing of a stag bowing before its queen. With a gesture of utmost reverence, he knelt and took Willow's hands in his, completely ignoring Weiss's presence. His attention was entirely focused on her mother, as if the rest of the world had vanished.

— "You've come back to me, just like you always do, because you promised," Willow said, her happiness verging on tears. Her voice, thick with emotion, revealed a longing she'd suppressed.

— "I have returned to you, my lady, as I promised, as you demanded," the man replied, his eyes fixed on Willow's, beaming with joy at the sight. With a gesture of infinite tenderness, he placed a kiss as soft and delicate as silk on the hand he held, a symbol of his devotion and respect.

— "Tell me everything you've experienced, tell me about your travels, Jaune Arc," Willow whispered, her voice filled with deep fascination.

-{}-

I apologize for the spelling mistakes and invite you to share your ideas for improving the story.

I warn you that some things may not make much sense, so I welcome any suggestions.

I also want to let you know that I've taken some creative liberties with some characters and that I won't be following the original canon to the letter.

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