Chapter Text
The concert was beautiful. Weiss didn’t know most of the musicians but they played and sang beautifully. If she wasn’t certain it was just her father indulging in some pageantry for good press and to sell himself as a compassionate man she might’ve even enjoyed it, but alas; the only joy she’d taken from it was in giving her father the verbal equivalent of a middle finger with a song she’d written solely for the occasion.
It felt a little hollow not to be able to share it with her sisters, but Winter had long sworn off SDC events and Whisper… Whisper was in Vale. Had to be in Vale. So she’d just find a day when things had all calmed down and share it with her then. So the concert was fine. The problem was the art auction afterwards.
Weiss stared at the portrait, wondering who her father had gotten to commission it and if she could slap them in the face. It wasn’t bad by any means; the colors made for a bold contrast highlighting the chaos of the fall of Beacon. It was jarring, biting, driving home the visceralness of the tragedy.
Her problem was that the centerpiece was of Whitley Schnee. The artist had made them suitably heroic; wounded, carrying a child and handing them off to some huntsman with the Grimm and White Fang approaching in the background. But it also denied who Whisper had become, and it sold the narrative that she’d died in Vale.
Weiss clenched her jaw. She wanted nothing more than to duck under the velvet ropes and tear the painting to pieces for disrespecting her sister and trying to make a ghost of her, but she needed to maintain her composure-
“It’s beautiful. You two match.”
Weiss took a deep breath. Let it out calmly. If there is a merciful god above Remnant, do not force me to put up with this, she thought before looking at the person interrupting her lamentations. “Yes, it’s a lovely painting… though not to my tastes.”
“Really?” The young man said as he looked at the painting. “I think it’s rather dynamic. Elegant even. Atlas giving it’s all to save Vale from their misfortune.”
“It’s my brother dying,” Weiss said, which almost made it slightly more palatable in her mind; Whitley Schnee died in Vale, and Whisper carried on in his place.
She glanced over, and couldn’t help but smirk at the absolutely gobsmacked expression on the would-be suitor’s face. “I should go,” he mumbled, and Weiss just nodded.
“Yes. You should.”
He left, and Weiss looked back at the painting. She’d have to thank Whisper when she saw her again; bringing up her “dead” little sister seemed like the perfect way to chase off any unwanted courtships by young men, even if it just committed further to selling the lie of Whisper’s death.
Honestly, this entire event felt like it was exploiting that lie; Father had played up the grieving parent angle, demanding black armbands to show their grief, giving a few dramatic tears he’d wipe away while insisting “I’ll be fine,” and “Whitley would want us to be strong.” He’d made a martyr out of the daughter he’d left in Vale, and it was making Weiss’s blood boil at how pointless and superficial this event and these people were-
“But really, does it come as any surprise what happened to Vale?”
And now she had someone to release that anger towards. As Weiss turned on her heels, ready to verbally eviscerate some random trophy wife she spared one more thought to her baby sister.
Whisper… I hope you’re doing better than I am.
Whisper was painfully out of her depths right now.
Maidens. Magic. Fairy tales as fact rather than fiction. She was stunned by the revelation, and a quick glance around showed everyone else was as well.
It was a lot to take in. A lot to focus on. And Whisper was having a lot of trouble focusing. She caught bits and pieces; the Maiden powers transferred to whoever was last in their previous user’s thoughts, something about an attempt to transfer powers the night Beacon fell, something about Ruby’s silver eyes making her a target…
She was concerned. She was. She just… couldn’t focus. Her leg hurt, which was frustrating, and that face burned into Tyrian’s mind had burned its way into hers so she just… kept remembering it. Remembering those eyes. Those cold, cruel, remorseless eyes. But more horrifying was the belief behind the image; to Tyrian the woman he served was a goddess.
A goddess of destruction.
To Tyrian the ultimate victory was the end of Remnant; every building leveled, every life ended, every trace of existence on the planet removed. This wasn’t just the end of the academies. This wasn’t the end of huntsmen. This was more than just good and evil. This was a fight against absolute extinction. The only question was how she could possibly manage such a thing-
“… if someone were to collect all four, they’d be able to change the world. That’s exactly what the enemy wants.”
Whisper’s eyes shot open. That sounded important. Very important. “What? Collect what?”
Qrow sighed and shook his head. “Look Princess, I just got through this…“
“Are you serious Whisper?! This is important!” Jaune added over the drunk, and Nora and Ren nodded along in a way that made Whisper’s stomach churn with discomfort.
Ruby seemed to be the only one willing to give her grace in that moment. “The relics. Apparently the Brother Gods left relics of Knowledge, Creation, Destruction, and Choice behind when they left Remnant.” She explained.
“Dammit… dammit, that tracks,” Whisper groaned as she rubbed her eyes.
“Tracks with what?” Ruby asked, and everyone else seemed interested as well. “Whisper… do you know something?”
She sighed, then looked up. “I… maybe. When my semblance connected with Tyrian I saw… I saw something. Someone. I think they might’ve been Salem? And Tyrian’s thoughts and feelings-”
“Wait wait wait,” Jaune said. “Are you saying your semblance lets you read minds or something?”
“For that matter, I thought the Schnee Family had a hereditary semblance,” Ren added as he looked at Whisper. “Why is yours different?”
Whisper opened her mouth to reply, but then Nora cut her off. “And why’d you keep it secret? Why didn’t you tell us?” She asked, and Qrow scoffed.
“Because she doesn’t understand the stakes,” he said dismissively before rounding on Whisper. “Listen Princess: huntsmen work in teams, and teams have to trust each other. And if we can’t even trust to know what you can do then one day you’re gonna get someone killed.”
It felt like a slap in the face. But it didn’t mean he was wrong. Whisper hung her head and gave a small nod. “I… I’m sorry.” She said before she felt her concentration slip. “Look, I… I’ll tell you everything I know about my semblance in the morning. I didn’t mean to hide it, I just…”
Was scared to talk about it. Was scared to use it.
“… in the morning. I’ll talk about everything. I promise.”
No one seemed satisfied by that, but before long everyone went to their bedrolls to turn in, leaving Whisper sitting by the campfire alone.
“… hey Whisper.”
Well. Almost alone. “I’m sorry, Ruby,” Whisper said as she stared at the ground. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t think-”
“Hey.”
Whisper felt a hand on her shoulder, and she looked over to find Ruby smiling at her in a way that left Whisper feeling warm.
“I trust you,” Ruby said before leaning in to press her forehead against Whisper’s. “I trust you. And in the morning everyone will have cooled off from all the big, crazy reveals and we’ll get to talk about your cool semblance.”
“It’s not that cool,” Whisper said before leaning back and giving an embarrassed smile. “Can, uh…can you help me to bed though? My leg’s still bugging me and-”
Ruby squawked and jumped to her feet.“Right! Ohmygosh I’m sorry! Here, just gimmie your arm…”
Whisper giggled, and a few seconds later she was limping her way to bed. She was still distracted, still uncomfortable, but Ruby didn’t hate her. And Whisper could deal with everything else, from Salem to the Maidens to the Relics in the morning. Right now she just needed to shut her eyes and rest.
Yeah. She just needed rest.
“Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable!”
Weiss didn’t think so. Frankly she felt throwing a fit over some idiot saying Vale had it coming for not being militarized like Atlas was completely believable.
“Do you have any idea what this stunt of yours cost us?! And don’t think I’m just talking about Lien here! Our reputation! Our…”
Jacques Schnee sighed, and Weiss decided that was her opportunity to speak up. “I want to leave.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Weiss repeated herself. “I want. To leave,” she said firmly. “I don’t want to stay here anymore. I don’t want to stay in Atlas anymore! My baby sister-”
“Whitley is dead!” Jacques shouted. “And even if he wasn’t, I don’t give a damn! You represent the SDC, the Schnee family, and acting out like you did just shames us and drags our name through the mud!”
Perhaps it was unwise, but Weiss decided to channel a little bit of Yang in that moment. “Bold words for the man who only has the name because he married into the family!”
She probably should’ve seen the slap coming. She didn’t, but she should’ve, especially as he went on to start lecturing her.
“This disrespect is unbecoming of the heir to the Schnee family,” Jacques said firmly. “And if I had any other choice? I’d strip you of your title in a heartbeat. All running off has ever brought us is weakness; your sister abandoned us for the military, and your brother ran off and got himself killed!”
“According to you.”
Jacques rolled his eyes. “The point is that siding with them divides us more than we’re already divided-”
“But we’re not divided,” Weiss said firmly. “You are. The rest of us are doing what we feel is right, and that meant leaving the clueless Atlesian elites to leave our legacy elsewhere… and I intend to do that as a huntress.”
Jacques went silent, then scoffed and shook his head.
“How disappointing... but it doesn’t matter. You should’ve thought of that before you caused your little scene tonight, because as of now you’re going to be confined to the manor indefinitely.”
Weiss froze. “What?!”
“Your presupposition that you can simply have whatever it is you want is a clear sign of our failure as parents.” Jacques said with a look of sheer disappointment on his face. “But from now on, I'll be giving you the full attention you require, starting by keeping you where I can see you.”
“You can’t keep me prisoner here,” Weiss shot back. “People will ask questions-”
“And I’ll answer those questions by explaining that the trauma of so tragically losing your brother has driven you mad with grief,” he said before setting a hand on Weiss’s shoulder. “But don’t worry; you’ll come around eventually, and when you finally accept reality and start living up to my expectations for you as my successor we’ll see about loosening these restrictions.”
And then he turned to leave, and Weiss fumed. Then, after a minute, she started moving her furniture, clearing an open space in her room before going to her closet and retrieving two boxes.
Myrtenaster fell back into her hand like an old friend. And as she opened the second she stopped and read the engraved plaque inside the velvet case.
“To Weiss, the Fond Promise,” she said as she wrapped her fingers around the pistol and held it up with a determined look in her eyes. “Keep me in your heart, dear sister.”
Weiss would keep Whisper in her heart. She would master her summoning, hone her skills, train until she could be a true huntress.
And when she’d made the world safe for girls like her sister, Weiss would hug her sister tight and never let her go again.
When it came down to it, Whisper didn’t mind the cold. The cold could be bracing, could sharpen the mind and focus one’s will. Cold could be soothing, could be restful, and there was always a remedy for the most severe forms of cold; fire, blankets, a warm hug, a hot beverage. She didn’t mind the cold.
“Rise and shine, kiddies; you’ve got a long way to go still.”
Hot could also be nice; though she hadn’t gotten much experience with it until she left Atlas, warmth and heat had proven comfortable, restful. She’d found that a warm day lying on the grass was a special sort of relaxing, and even the heavier sort of warmth like being around a forge swinging a hammer with sweat dripping down her face and neck had some charm to them.
“Whisper, it’s time to get up! Ren made pancakes!”
But she also hated when she felt hot.
“Whisper?”
When she felt like she was burning up inside, when she was sweating and just wanted to bury herself in the snow to cool off, when she was left crying and begging for her mother and father to care for her, tell her she’d be okay.
“Whisper?”
Whisper opened her eyes to find Ruby leaning over her, her gentle face marked with worry. After a moment Whisper forced herself to sit up, hissing as her body protested before she fumbled for her back. Medication. She needed her medication.
Her chest hurt. She swallowed one pill and set the other to rest under her tongue as she swayed. Small blessings; the second pill dissolved quickly enough, which meant when the coughing fit hit she didn’t risk accidentally spitting it out.
“Whisper? Are you okay?” Ruby asked, and Whisper tried to stand up.
Tried. She could barely feel her injured leg.
“M-my leg,” she croaked, and Ruby looked down before pulling Whisper’s blanket off and gasping. Whisper looked down, and she couldn’t blame her for the reaction.
Because the bandages had bled through, and whatever was bleeding through was a sickening violet color.
“… Ruby?” Whisper said as she looked at her friend before her vision blurred and her eyes rolled back as the shouting started.