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Princess and The Dragons	By : RWBYRemnants Category: +M through R > RWBY Views: 1054 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: RWBY is not mine and I make no money from this fic

Chapter List
- 25
- 26
- 27
WARNING: Creepy dad talk, das it.

=Chapter 26
The Vale Police Department was a dreary building indeed. Small and quaint, but undecorated and forbidding on the inside. Grey walls and white tile floors, and burly men in blue uniforms leaning against desks and chatting with each other in terse voices. They all looked a little surprised to see a teenaged girl in white dress, ponytail only slightly askew.
“Hello,” she said with a small curtsy. “I’m here to speak with Jacques Schnee?”
The one with the black sunglasses on tilted his head back to look at her. ‘Officer Burns’, his nametag read. “You got a name, sweetcakes?”
“It isn’t ‘Sweetcakes’. It’s Weiss Schnee.”
“One second, honey.” He disappeared briefly. Weiss wasn’t sure if she was supposed to keep standing or take one of the uncomfortable seats just inside the front door, but just when she had made up her mind to do the latter, the man returned.
“Yes?”
“Ironwood says you can go on through. Just watch yourself, girlie; this ain’t no sock hop.”
Once through a door in the back, she saw another door made of iron bars. The officer unlocked this, then led her down a row of what she could only describe as cages. They were mostly filled with men, and they all seemed to be interested in wolf-whistling and cat-calling her as she walked past. Maybe she should have worn the longer skirt…
“Want in there with him? I’ll be out here.” He tapped the baton at his hip, suggesting he was ready at a moment’s notice to subdue any prisoner.
“No,” she whispered softly. “I need to speak with him, but I don’t want to be locked in with him. Not ever.”
That earned her a sideways glance. But all he said was, “Righty-o.”
Her father was not in fantastic shape, but in far better than most of his fellow inmates. His suit was a bit grimy looking from sleeping on the dirty cot in the corner upon which he now sat, and his hair and moustache were devoid of their usual lustre. The footsteps had brought his head up, and now he favoured her with a tight smile.
“Hello, little Weiss. Come to gloat?”
“Can we have a moment?” she whispered to the officer, not even daring to acknowledge him first.
“Remember,” he muttered, tapping the baton again. Then he moved further back down the hall, snapping things at prisoners here and there.
“Father.”
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he began while spreading his hands wide, smiling at her. “Gloating is still my first guess, but maybe you’re just curious. Or maybe you’re about to ask ‘Why, Daddy?’ or some other such drivel. As if my answer would be worth a hill of beans to a disobedient child.”
“Who was it?” she demanded.
“Who was what?’
Leaning closer, she glared daggers at him. “The one who set the fire. We both know you had something to do with it, so you might as well tell me.”
“I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said mildly.
“Yes, you do.”
“I have spoken to no one other than the warden and my attorney, Weiss. Certainly not to you or your mother - even though you both owe me quite the heartfelt apology.”
“Apology? You… we owe you an…”
After a moment, she began to laugh harshly. Jacques weathered that sound for a moment before he grew weary and snapped, “What’s so hilarious to you, my idiot daughter?”
“Oh, just that you somehow can’t figure out that you’re the one who failed us. I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, you’ve been abusing my mother for our entire lives, and right under my nose. I just chose not to see it. Too late for cover-ups and cleverness, Father; you tried to beat the both of us senseless.”
“You deserved it,” he growled under his breath. “All this gallivanting with gangsters, and somehow, I’m the villain of your narrative, just because I tried to discipline you?”
“It’s not ‘discipline’ to lash my face!” she half-shouted, ripping off the bandage to show the healing cut the leather had left there. “One scar wasn’t enough, huh? You won’t be satisfied until my entire face is so marked up that no one will ever love me! Is that about the size of it?!”
Sighing, he shook his head for a moment. “Don’t be hysterical. It’s unbecoming.”
“So is this beating you gave me. Not attractive at all.”
“Then stop earning beatings,” he bit out as if she weren’t grasping simple concepts. “The same could be said of Willow, really; she never could grow up entirely. And though the last thing I would ever want was to need to treat my wife like a child, it became necessary at times.”
“Liar.”
“Excuse me?”
Teeth bared, Weiss wrapped both hands around the bars so tightly that the knuckles turned whiter than her dress. “Who do you think you’re fooling with that ‘the last thing I would want’ routine? You do want this.”
“Careful,” he said in a dangerous tone.
“You want us to be your… your punching bags! Love to see us get hurt, love that you have the power to do that to us! It’s sick! You’re sick, Father, and I don’t ever want to be alone in the same room with you again!”
With no forewarning, he flung himself at the bars, just barely managing to catch one of her hands before she could pull it back fast enough. She tried to jerk away, but his snarling face was suddenly there, and she found she couldn’t do anything, couldn’t force herself to turn away or try to break free again.
“I’m sorry you were ever born, you ungrateful trollop. Daughters? I never wanted any daughters. Too much trouble, and too much like their mother. Don’t know their place. But I’ll be back to restore order soon enough.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“Oh, haven’t I mentioned?” he continued in his oily growl, so low no one else could hear. “Daddy’s getting out of here soon. And you’ll have a lot worse to look forward to than some shabby old building being destroyed the way it should have been years ago.” His grin was positively demented, and she began to worry that his time in the jail had driven him over the edge completely. “I’ll mark your skin once for every stupid word of disrespect you’ve ever said to me. And Willow can look forward to the same.”
“No…” Gulping, she looked up for the officer, but he was turned away. “I’m- you can’t! You hurt us, the police-”
“Weiss, I own the police. I own this entire town. There isn’t anyone I can’t buy off, or call in a favour that they can’t refuse. Within a few days, my hearing will come due, and I’ll be out of this birdcage quicker than you can blink.”
Shaking all over, she whispered, “You’re a monster. You’re really a- I wish I’d never- no. I wish you’d never been born.”
“Then you wouldn’t be born, you bimbo! Honestly, how could I have raised such a dunce?”
“How did you set the fire?!” she demanded, hoping to squeeze some real information from him before she couldn’t stand to be this close anymore.
“Doesn’t matter, does it? I made sure it happened. And I’ll keep doing the same until you see the error of your ways.”
“GUARD!”
By the time he had turned around, he had let go and taken a single step back, enough so that it would not be readily apparent that he was holding her hostage. Shaking and angry beyond measure, she turned to make her way back to the front.
“See you soon, sweetie,” he promised in a carrying, cheery voice. “Very soon.”

“Wow…”
Weiss nodded as she gazed down into the malted she couldn’t even force down, no matter how hungry she was. Again. Her father’s words had ruined what little appetite she had left.
“Weiss, this is unacceptable,” Pyrrha whispered across the table. “He isn’t being… well, he isn’t being a father at all. How could he say such things?”
“I’d like to smash his face in,” Yang growled under her breath. Many of the diner’s patrons were glancing at her nervously; even if she was a girl, she still looked like a rougher element than they were used to seeing in the warm atmosphere of the establishment.
“Now, now… we won’t solve anything that way. Weiss’s mother will just have to work with Blake’s extra hard to ensure that he won’t be able to do such things.”
The brute rolled her eyes. “Sure, sure. I’m surprised you ain’t trying to tell Weiss to give him a second chance.”
“Well…” This time, she had to pause a bit longer to consider her words. “Forgiveness is divine. But he struck both his daughter and his own wife. Sometimes, God punishes people through the law, and I believe he needs to at least serve his time in jail before he gets any second chance. But if Weiss and Mrs. Schnee don’t want to give one to him… they have my full support.”
“Hmm…” Slowly, her head began to nod, then nodded a little faster. “Alright, Nikos. I guess I can respect that.”
Pyrrha's smile was weak, but at least present. None of them were in a particularly chipper mood anymore. She turned back to Weiss to ask, “How are Cinder and your leader? I can't recall her name.”
“Terrible. I haven't gone to see them yet myself, but the other girls say Cinder is in terrible shape. Salem will be just fine, and Emerald will need to wear some bandages for a little while. But they… they aren't sure about…”
When Yang's hand draped over her own, the tightness that had been building in her chest slowly began to loosen. “Hey. Not your fault, remember? And if it would make you feel better, we could go try to visit them right now. At least Salem and Emerald should be able to have guests and all; with Cinder they keep saying ‘family only’, but what good does that do anybody when she’s got no family?”
Weiss flashed her a grateful smile. “Thank you. And I know Sienna is helping them, but I really would feel better if I checked in on them myself.”
That was how the three of them reached the decision that they would go to the hospital after the soda fountain. All the way there, Weiss was on pins and needles. Would Salem even want to see her? But this wasn't about what anyone did or didn't want - it was about duty. Even though Yang kept telling her not to feel bad about what happened, she couldn't help feeling partially responsible since it was her father's doing.
As they had worried, Cinder was not available for visiting hours. But Salem was. The worst she had suffered was mild smoke inhalation and a few bruises. They also learned that Emerald would soon be released once her bandages were firmly in place, though Weiss had a sneaking suspicion that she would want to remain by Cinder's side.
The strangest thing about Salem wasn't the oxygen tube running underneath her nostrils, or seeing her in the sterile surroundings of a hospital. It was seeing her face and hair in full. She wasn't just pale… she was white. An albino! Weiss had heard some people were born without enough pigment in their skin, but had never met anyone like that before. Her hair was also yet whiter than her own, and done up into several braids. The curtains on her window were drawn, and now she understood that was to protect her sensitive skin from the harsh rays of the sun, just as that ever-present cloak usually helped with.
“Are you just going to stare?”
Dipping her head in mild chagrin, she and Yang paced into the room. “High Dragon. I'm glad to see you are well.”
“And I you, Little Schnee. Though I'm saddened to hear about Cinder. She was… still is, one of my most loyal girls. A fierce Dragon. To lose her would be a great tragedy.”
“I'm sorry, too,” Weiss said. She wanted to get this out of the way as soon as possible. “And… I'm afraid I am partially to blame.”
“Oh?”
“It wasn't really her fault,” Yang butted in, voice urgent. “Just because he's a big-”
“Silence, Xiao Long.” Her tone was merely cold, not overly severe. Either way, Weiss saw her girlfriend shut down immediately. “You were saying?”
As succinctly as she could, she explained about what had gone on between her parents, the abuse they had both received at the hands of her father. Then she summarized her visit to the jail itself, and everything he had said. As she listened, Salem made no other remark other than to ask for clarification on a point or two, and nodded or shook her head very slightly. It was as if she were listening to the news on the radio.
“I see. And because your father has taken these actions against us, you feel it is your responsibility?”
“Yes. You… you asked me to… regain his trust, be his good little girl, and I couldn't do that. Now, he thinks he's going to destroy all of us just to make me obey him again. I failed.” She felt Yang's hand fall to her shoulder, but she shrugged it off. “No, I don't deserve to be comforted about this! I'm a Dragon now. You were trusting me to do a job, and I didn't, and I deserve whatever punishment you give me.”
There were a long few seconds that passed in silence in that hospital room. Yang's hand went to her shoulder again, unperturbed by her effort to get her to stop, and Weiss neither pushed her away nor acknowledged it.
“Your apology has been noted. No disciplinary action is needed at this time.”
“What?”
“However,” she went on with a single finger raised, eyes locked onto Weiss's. “You should never do that again. Before going to see him in prison, you should have consulted with me, or with the acting High Dragon - Yang.”
“What?” It was Yang this time, stunned. “I thought… well, I know I'm supposed to be someday, but I'm still a kid. Isn't Kali-”
The way she shook her head made Yang fall silent. “No. You should take her counsel into consideration, of course, but you are my successor. Not Kali, not Cinder, and not anyone else. I thought I had made that perfectly clear in the past.”
“You have,” she assured her with a brief bow. “Sorry. I won't forget that next time - but I hope there isn't a next time.”
“One can never know.” Her eyes returned to Weiss, pale hands folding in her lap. “As for you… I suppose you have done no real harm, not directly. This matter will be dealt with. Do you still believe that your mother can be swayed to our side?”
“I, um… I'd rather she not be any more involved than necessary. But yes, she's still working with Kali. And I can tell you she's completely finished with my father! We both are.”
“Then I find that satisfactory for the moment. If you could fetch Sienna from the hall, I believe we have much to discuss before my discharge. You are both dismissed.”
Though she had an ominous feeling in the pit of her stomach, Weiss did as she was asked. Once they had spoken with Sienna, who looked tired enough for a dozen lifetimes but was as vigilant as ever, Yang led her to the waiting room where Pyrrha sat, sipping from a paper cup of water and looking completely out of her element. She stood the minute she saw the two of them approach.
“How are they?”
“Salem's fine,” Weiss told her softly. “Emerald, too, but… still no word on Cinder. I guess we'll just have to wait and see.”
“I'm worried.” They both turned it to look at Yang, and she shrugged her shoulders. “The way Salem said she'd just ‘take care of it’. What's that mean?”
Pyrrha's shrug was even higher than Yang's. “Search me. But it sounds to me as if she doesn't hold Weiss responsible for what happened. That's a good thing, isn't it?”
“It is,” Weiss sighed weakly. “Now let's get out of here. Hospitals give me the creeps.”
“Me, too,” Yang admitted. She had seemed a little on edge since they got there, but Weiss attributed that to their pending talk with Salem. “Ever since Mom- I mean, Summer…”
Now it made too much sense. Sliding her arm around Yang's waist, she began to lead the other two outside. If they never saw the inside of a hospital again, it would be too soon.

This time, Yang went with Weiss when she made her way home. There was a possibility the introduction could be awkward, and Yang had certainly expressed a plethora of misgivings, but she wanted to get it out of the way immediately - especially if her mother was going to have more and more contact with the Dragons. Salem seemed to be under the impression that it would become such a regular occurrence that she might as well be one of them, but Weiss was determined to keep that from happening; her high-society mother was not ready to enter that world. Not fully.
Willow Schnee was getting set up in the living room for Kali's daily visit. Though Weiss had never seen her mother dating before, she was certainly pulling out all the stops for her guest as if she were; finger sandwiches, the good tea set, and quite a lovely, pale pink dress gracing her figure. That certainly did nothing to dissuade Weiss from thinking there was a larger amount of affection between the two of them than two new friends would typically share. She looked up at the sound of the door opening, and her expectant expression turned into one surprise.
“Oh! Weiss, hello! Sorry, I thought you would be out quite late this evening. Weren't you going to spend time with your new friends?”
Suppressing a wry smile at the way her mother said “new friends” instead of “group of thugs involved in organized crime”, she closed the door and led Yang over toward the couch where she was seated. “I wanted to check on you. Besides, I'll see them again tomorrow.”
“Well, thank you,” she set earnestly, reaching up to take Weiss's free hand. Her other one was nestled in the small of Yang's back, trying to be reassuring. It didn't seem to be helping much; the blonde brute was still sweating bullets. “But I told you, I'm fine.”
“I know. By the way, Mother, um, this is Yang Xiao Long. My, uhhhh…”
She didn't end up needing to explain. Her mother blinked a few times, looked between the two of them, then lowered her eyes to stare into space.
“Ah. So… she's the one you're… that you- well.”
“My girlfriend.” Somehow, her mother's inability to say it out loud made her need to finish the sentence herself.
“Girlfriend,” she repeated in a tone of utter disbelief. When no one else spoke, she looked up at her daughter, eyes pleading for her to take it back. It made Weiss's stomach clench but she pressed on.
“Yes. I told you about this, remember?”
With a slight nod, her mother turned away again. “Of course, of course. This is very…” A frown line creased the center of her forehead. “I'm sorry, Weiss. Really. I'm just not sure what to say about it. Everything I'm thinking sounds so…”
Yang volunteered a guess. “Bad?” It got Willow to look up at her, and only the presence of Weiss's hand in the small of her back kept her from retreating. “S-sorry, ma'am.”
“No, no, it's alright. That's exactly it: I keep hearing things that our pastor would say, or Jacques, or… but my daughter swears to me that it is true love, not just sin. And she's certainly had a better head on her shoulders than I have for these past few years. Who am I to argue?”
“Maybe,” Weiss attempted, her voice quivering very slightly from sheer anxiety, “if you got to know her, you'll see that she's not just a sinner, or an obstacle, or whatever Father thinks that she is. But you might have to try talking to her yourself to do that.”
That seemed to shake the woman even more. Though she had glanced at Yang once or twice, she finally turned to properly look at her. Whether it was how young she looked, or how uncomfortable and worried about the outcome of this initial meeting, Weiss could never know - but it had the effect of making her frown even more.
“Goodness, I am sorry. Yang Chan, was it? I'm Willow Schnee. Must have left my manners in my other dress.”
As she offered her hand for Yang to take, palm facing down, the Dragon looked a little confused for a moment. Weiss guessed it was partly because her mother had missed her surname and substituted that of Charlie Chan, since that was possibly the only Chinese family name the woman knew. Weiss was inwardly groaning but kept her comments to herself. In the end, Yang accepted the proffered hand and leaned down to kiss the back, as if she were some kind of prince at a royal function.
“Oh!” Willow gasped.
“U-uh,” she began, shaking the hand now even though it was still in that awkward position. “Nice to, um, make your acquaintance?”
Tittering with delight, she turned a wide smile toward her daughter. “So polite - and she speaks very good English! Will wonders never cease?”
Yes, Weiss did indeed feel like she could die then and there.
- 25
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- 27
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Princess and The Dragons