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 |
TRIGGER WARNING: Racism and abuse.
=Chapter 9
That early evening, Weiss felt content in her knowledge that she and Yang were on good terms, and that they had already logged some study time to help Yang improve her grades. Things were going well. Now, she only had to solve one other new problem that had presented itself.
“Search me,” Pyrrha sighed as she gently stirred her milkshake with the straw, gazing into the far corner of the malt shop. Weiss had elected to have only a cherry phosphate, not wanting to spoil her dinner since she was eating at home tonight. “I’m an only child.”
“I might as well be,” Weiss admitted. “Whitley is a pill, and a boy anyway, and Winter’s been gone away to college for a couple of years now. Father won’t even tell me if she calls or writes since he’s so disappointed in her career choice.”
“But the WAC is a noble field! I’ve actually been thinking of enlisting myself, if I don’t train for the Olympics…”
Lowering her voice, Weiss whispered, “I think he expects it to turn her into a lesbian. Since the army is ‘men’s work’ to him. Which is pretty ironic, isn’t it? Worried about the wrong daughter.” Then in a more normal tone, she added, “Plus, he wanted her to take over the company reins. I’m not as well-suited, even though I want to - and Whitley is completely useless, the selfish little toad. But it’s too late; she’s even more stubborn than me, and won’t change her mind for anything.”
Pyrrha nodded to herself as Danny And The Juniors came on the jukebox. A few of the kids in the far corner got up and started to dance, even though it always made the elderly man behind the counter roll his eyes. Privately, Weiss thought that if he hated modern music so much, he shouldn’t provide it for the clientele.
“Well… are you sure you want to take over the business?”
“Huh?”
“It’s not set in stone. If you want to do something else with your life, I think you should. We only go around once, don’t we?”
“Thanks,” Weiss snorted as she patted Pyrrha’s hand. “You’re a peach, Pyrrha. But no… I do think I’d like to take over Schnee Communications. Really do something big with it.” She noticed her other hand was tapping the stem of her soda glass, and she smiled. “Did you want to dance?”
“Hm? Dance? Me? To what?”
“To ‘At The Hop’, you dunce,” she giggled.
“With you?” An instant later, she blanched and followed up, “N-not that there’s anything wrong with that! I just m-meant… well, we’re in public, a-and I’m not like you are, a-and-”
“No one cares if two girls dance together, Pyrrha. As long as we don’t start necking in the middle of the malt shop, it’s fine! Besides… maybe we’ll get asked to dance by boys.”
Still flushed, Pyrrha glanced over shoulder at the crowd. “You really think so?”
“I do. And who knows? Might get your mind off a certain Jaune Arc.”
“Shhh!” she hissed, but even while Weiss was giggling she slid out of the booth and grabbed her by the hand, dragging her just far enough from their booth to dance.
Neither of them were very good at it, but at least enough to keep time with the music and avoid knocking anything - or anyone - to the floor. Weiss had to admit she was impressed with Pyrrha’s jitterbugging, and even herself for not falling on her behind even once. She did see out of the corner of her eye that a few of the boys were watching them with slight astonishment, but she made up her mind not to care; if she projected confidence, showed that she didn’t care in the slightest, they would eventually go back to their own dance partners. And she was right; a couple of other girls did the same, and even two boys, laughing at the absurdity. Maybe they would start a trend!
When “All Shook Up” came on next, she couldn’t seem to help herself; she really thought Elvis was the most. Pyrrha took a step back and let Weiss put on a show by herself, mostly just swaying and snapping her fingers. Neither of them minded much, and she got a few cheers when the song ended. Vaguely embarrassed, she curtsied and moved to sit down.
Then someone put in another dime and cued up “Lollipop”. Pyrrha kept dancing, but Weiss decided that it was time to put on a show of a different kind.
“Call my baby lollipop, tell you why,” she belted out in time with the Chordettes, earning her wolf-whistles and thunderous applause from all but the elderly soda jerk. “His kiss is sweeter than an apple pie! And when he does his shaky rockin' dance, man, I haven't got a chance!”
Everyone started singing along with the chorus, and Pyrrha laughed and clapped louder, clearly enjoying herself. Weiss was, too. For some reason, she had always thought it too unseemly to dance in public anytime other than an actual school sock hop. Singing was another matter, but her father expected her to keep her performances to operetta and hymns. As much as she liked popular music, it was discouraged and seen as “pedestrian”, so she had never owned any records of her own.
Finally worn out, the two of them finished off their drinks and then made their way home. If they settled in quickly, they could study for an hour or so before suppertime.
However, as it turned out, life had other plans.
“Weiss!” her father called out as they passed through the living room. “May I speak with you a moment?”
“Yes, Father?”
He glanced pointedly at Pyrrha. “Alone?”
“Sorry,” she whispered to her friend. “I’ll be up in a minute?” Pyrrha nodded, waving at Mr. Schnee as she headed upstairs. He did not deign to acknowledge her.
“Good. Sit.” He motioned to the couch before reclaiming his armchair. Weiss obeyed, sitting primly on the edge of the cushion. “I was hoping you would be able to shed some light on certain information that has come into my possession.”
“Sorry, what information is that?”
“Apparently, you have been consorting with known delinquents.”
As she stared at her father, the bottom dropped out of Weiss's stomach. Someone had seen her with Yang. Who?! They hadn't been very discreet so it shouldn't have come as much of a surprise that they had been caught - and yet it did. She was completely gobsmacked. Still, there was no reason to cop to everything right away; maybe he didn't know very much, and she certainly didn't want to accidentally volunteer information that wasn't necessary to volunteer.
“What?”
“Don't play coy with me,” he went on with a slight sneer that lifted the corner of his mustache. “Whitley saw you sneaking out of the house in the dead of night. What could you have been thinking?”
It was worse than she thought. Of course her father would believe Whitley, that little toad. “W-well, I only went to retrieve a school book I loaned out.”
“To that Chinese girl, hmm?”
“Yes. I'm helping her with math and-”
“You expect me to believe that the only reason you climbed down the side of our home was to retrieve a book? Just what sort of fool do you take me for?”
“The best sort! Wait- I mean, no fool at all, Sir!”
Shaking his head, he crossed his legs and leaned heavily against one elbow. “All the money spent on tutoring, already wasted when you insisted on going to a public school instead of a private academy. Your mother made the inane decision that if it was what you wanted, it was worth the sacrifice. And now look where we are! You’re running around Vale with some kind of… opium fiends on motorbikes!”
“Opium…” Weiss rolled her eyes when she made the connection. “Just because she’s half-Chinese doesn’t mean she’s ever even seen opium, Father. And as far as I know, she hasn’t!”
“Oh, really? You have enough experience with the fruit of the poppy that you can tell the difference?”
It was very difficult for her not to get upset with him. “I’ve literally never spent a moment thinking about her being Chinese. She’s being raised by her mother, who’s from America.”
“Hmph. The fact remains, she is not the sort of friend you ought to be keeping company with. I forbid you to see her anymore.”
“You what?” Blinking up at him, she waited for him to elaborate, or to rescind his edict. He did not. So she burst out, “You can’t do that!”
“I just have.”
“But she’s-” It took quite a lot of effort to suppress some kind of ill-conceived confession of love. “Father, she needs my help in school, a-and we’re good friends! And you won’t tell me I’m not to see her!”
His eyes flashed dangerously. “Watch your tongue, young lady. This is my house, and what I say goes.”
“NO!”
“Excuse me?”
“Not this time!” she snapped, leaping to her feet. She knew this wasn’t a spectacular idea, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself; it was as if the anger pulsing behind her temples was taking over her body, separating her from being able to command it any longer. “All I ever do is what you tell me to! I’m a good student, I practice my singing every day, a-and I’ve even been keeping up with tennis! With Yang! So why… I mean, how can you forbid me to see someone you don’t even know? That isn’t fair!”
She could have predicted he would say “Life isn’t fair” before he even formed the words, and was only further angered to hear him say them after all.
“So what?! That doesn’t mean you have to be unfair along with it!”
Jacques Schnee shot to his feet and snatched up her bicep, jerking her forcibly toward him with an iron grip. His cold eyes stabbed down into her own and her heart stopped beating to see his barely-concealed rage.
“You will stop speaking to me in this manner, and you still stop associating with the Chinese girl. My decision is final. If you continue to disobey me, there will be further consequences. Do I make myself clear?”
“No.”
“Try that again,” he growled, shaking her arm.
She didn’t know why she said it. Her father had already proven he had no interest in what she had to say at all. Perhaps it was the fact that Yang had become a lot more important to her than she ever thought possible, and that connection was too precious to be severed for no reason other than Yang’s race and the fact that she wore a leather jacket. Something within her was glowing white-hot and could not be cooled down until it burned something else.
“Or what? You’re going to hit me? Again? Like you hit mother when you think we’re not looking? Like she hits Whitley when he smarts off? Is that just what this family does? It’s pathetic! You are pathetic!”
His eyes flicked to her scar, and Weiss felt the dark thrill of a very unsatisfying triumph. A rough shove sent her falling against the couch, grasping at the arm to keep from winding up in the floor.
“I knew it was a mistake to entrust my company’s future to a woman. You never see the bigger picture. Whitley may be a low-grade moron, but at least he understands loyalty. All you care about is your sock hops and giggling with the girls - now including some foreign wok-woman. Squandering your potential. There’s too much of your mother in you.”
“I don’t care,” she lied as the tears began. How desperately she wished they wouldn’t.
“You will. When I’m disciplining you until you straighten up and act in a way befitting the Schnee name, you’ll care.” Smoothing the front of his suit, which had barely been disturbed at all by shoving his daughter, he grunted, “Get up and stop that blubbering.”
Weiss obeyed. Back straight, she stared him down, even as her cheeks glistened.
“Better. Now, you will sever all contact with the ruffian girl, and you will focus on your studies. Is that clear?”
“It’s clear.”
“Do you promise to obey me?”
Teeth clenched, she hissed, “Never.” His hand came down hard across her face. “AH!”
“Do you promise to obey me?!”
Furious in a way she didn’t know she could be, Weiss turned and screamed, “NEVER! I’ll never obey! You can slap me, you can kick me, y-you can chop me into pieces and feed me to the birds! I don’t care! I’m never going to let you tell me who I can and can’t be friends with, EVER!”
For a long moment, he regarded her and the angry red throbbing on her cheek. His face was completely impassive, even though he was breathing hard. Then he turned to stare into the unlit fireplace.
“That’s ‘with whom I can and can’t be friends’. Clearly, she’s already having a detrimental effect on your grammar.” The sigh was weary, as if this were nothing more than a tedious board meeting. “Very well. I’ll take care of the matter myself. And don’t think there won’t be further consequences.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” she demanded.
“You’ll see.” Turning back, he glared down at her. “You are dismissed. Go and study. Do something useful for a change.”
After a few seconds of huffing and puffing, Weiss managed to growl out “I hate you!” before she fled from the room and stomped upstairs.
She had fully intended on going to her room. Pyrrha was probably worried about the screaming, if she hadn’t somehow missed all the noise. Halfway there, she changed direction and burst into the drawing room, fists vibrating at her sides.
“MOTHER!”
Willow Schnee was draped over the piano bench, an empty bottle of red wine dangling in her loose grip. This was sadly a standard state of being for the woman; it had been for many years. Weiss had some hazy memories of a glamourous woman who didn’t fall to pieces so often, who could resist the pull of strong spirits. Hazy, distant, and with no impact on the present day.
“Wha…?”
Sinking to her knees beside her, Weiss sniffled and whispered, “He hit me again! H-he promised he wouldn’t, and he did, a-and I… Mommy, I need you to come back! Come back to us!”
The skin between the woman’s perfect eyebrows crinkled as she tried to think her way through the fog of alcohol. “Hm?”
“He slapped me! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
“Oh… no, no he didn’t. He said no more… only me.” She groaned and pushed a hand into her face. “Winter, stop the train, Mommy needs to lie down…”
Of course it was useless. Sighing, she took the bottle and set it aside, then managed to heave her mother to her feet and guide her to the chaise lounge under the window. The setting sun was just starting to pinken the sky, and she thought the view might help.
“Please don’t go,” Mrs. Schnee murmured. “I… want to… you were always so sweet, Weiss…”
“At least you got my name right that time,” she muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Leaning down, she pressed her lips into her mother’s pale forehead. She and Winter looked the most alike, and she definitely had their mother’s gentle eyes. But Weiss had her nominal stature and her angelic singing voice, which were nothing to sneeze at. “Mother?”
“Hmm?”
“I love you.”
“Mmm…” Her hand came up to rest on the side of Weiss’s neck. “Love you, too, sweetheart. You’re my little…”
Before she could even finish her sentence, her arm flopped to one side and she began to doze. “Snow Angel,” she finished for her. That was most likely what she had been about to say. Weiss decided to leave her there and simply sneak back out of the room. Compared to that mess, her life was entirely tolerable.
When she regained the safety of her own room, she found Pyrrha twisting the hem of her long poodle skirt in her hands. She looked panicked. Seeing her friend in the doorway, she stood, eyes full of fear as she whispered, “What happened?”
“Nothing.” Edging the door closed, she approached her desk in the corner and rested a hand on her books. “Let’s just… do our homework.”
“Your face…”
“What about it? Am I really that hideous?”
Pyrrha put her hands on her friend’s shoulders and held her fast. “Don’t do that. He… he shouldn’t be allowed to…”
Suddenly, Weiss needed to be alone. She wouldn’t tell Pyrrha to leave, but that didn’t prevent the desire from rising up powerfully within her. The desire to disappear. The desire to be anyone but a Schnee. “Nothing happened. Do you understand?”
“I don’t,” she whispered in a tight voice. “I can’t pretend this away, Weiss.”
“Then try. Try really, really hard.”
Then arms were around her, holding her as close as was possible. Even though she hated herself for it, would have given the entirety of her trust fund away to stem the flow, the tears started pouring forth in earnest. And they didn’t stop for some time.
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