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It had been a long time since Winter had looked into the mirror and seen someone she recognised. She used to think that this crisp, clean cut uniform was a sign of strength, but now she had no choice but to see it for the weakness—the prison—that it was. No matter how many times she told herself that she’d made her own choices, she knew it was a lie. First her father and then Ironwood— her whole life someone else had been marking out her path for her with one set of orders after another, and if she didn’t obey then she was cast aside.
When the General had declared martial law, she had known that it was wrong. When he had referred to a person like Penny as a machine—a weapon—she had known that it was wrong. When he had demanded that she murder an innocent old woman so that he could wield a power through her that wasn’t his by right, she had known that it was wrong. When he had decided to abandon the people of Mantle—people it was his responsibility to protect—she had known that it was wrong.
But she had been too weak—too much of a coward—to take action. Until now. She might not have made many good decisions in her life, but she was determined to make at least one before she died, and she was running out of time. She took a final glance around her quarters, her gaze lingering on the photograph of her sister smiling at her from her desk, but there was nothing here for her now.
Knowing that she needed to be quick, she didn’t bother changing her clothes, but she did take great pleasure in removing the dog tags from around her neck and tossing them onto the bed. After a moment’s thought, she left her Scroll as well, knowing that it was probably bugged. She was a valuable asset, after all— it was almost certain that they’d had some way to keep track of her.
On her way to the door she stopped to grab a plain black cloak from the wardrobe. It was a lacklustre disguise, but it would have to do because she couldn’t hang around to find anything better. A sharp kick forced the window open without shattering the glass, and she only hesitated for a second before taking the leap of faith, a Nevermore materialising beneath her just in time to break her fall.
“You… shot the boy?”
“Ozpin was getting in the way. Eliminating his host will buy us time to keep Atlas safe from Salem without his interference.”
Ironwood’s voice was eerily calm, and Winter swallowed hard, the lump in her throat dropping to settle like a leaden weight in her stomach. “Just Atlas, sir?”
The General’s hand tightened on the back of his chair, as though he could sense what she was implying, but he still didn’t turn to face her. “Keeping Atlas safe will keep the rest of the world safe. If we fall to Salem then there will be no one left to stop her.”
“And if the rest of the world falls to her then what point is there in us being safe? Do you really think that after conquering the rest of the Kingdoms she’ll just stop and leave us be?”
Her tone grew pleading, like the sheer force of her conviction could make him see reason. When his plan had been to tell the public the truth and reunite the world, she had seen the logic in temporarily redirecting the necessary resources from Mantle, but now? Now he was trying to strand them—isolate them from the rest of Remnant—and instead of just some supplies it was thousands of civilian lives at stake. Surely he had to see that this wasn’t the right thing to do.
“Enough!” The chair clattered to the floor as he rounded on her, eyes wide with rage. As she looked into his eyes, she could see plain as day that the man who’d once been like a father to her was gone, replaced by someone paranoid and beyond the point of clear thought. “You have forgotten your place, Specialist Schnee.” It wasn’t even anger that swelled in her chest as he rebuked her, it was simply overwhelming sadness, to see what his fear had reduced him to.
“I believe it would be more accurate to say I’ve remembered my place, General. And it is doing my duty to the people of Remnant, not following orders that will only help our enemy to win.”
“Then I suggest you run.” Hearing the words she’d spoken herself not so long ago echoed back to her was the final push she needed, and she took a step backward towards the door. Just as she was no longer Winter to him, he was no longer James to her, and she couldn’t bear to stand there like his obedient lapdog for another moment. “Because next time you won’t be given a chance to leave peacefully.”
She didn’t need to be told twice, and she didn’t look back as the door to his office slammed shut behind her.
The streets of Mantle were dark and cold, rain lashing down as Winter stumbled into an alleyway off the main road, hoping that the densely packed buildings would give her some shelter. Her aura might protect her from the freezing temperature, but it didn’t stop the rain from leaving her soaked through, and she needed to get inside before a drone or a patrol spotted her.
Thankfully, she was fairly sure that she was close to where she wanted to be now. She could only pray that she would receive a warm enough welcome, and that they would give her a chance to explain before throwing her back out into the street. She caught her breath and pushed away from the wall, but she’d only taken a few more steps when two women stepped out to block her path.
One was blue-haired, the other was green-haired, and both were amber-eyed. She recognised them from news reports during the election campaign, and she let out a sigh of relief. She’d managed to find the Happy Huntresses successfully— now the only question that remained was whether they’d accept her help. She raised her hands above her head as she stepped forward, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible, but she didn’t lower her hood yet, unwilling to take the risk of revealing her identity until she was certain of where she stood.
“I believe the correct phrase is ‘take me to your leader’?”
They exchanged a confused glance with each other, wordlessly communicating, and after almost a minute they finally lowered their weapons. The shorter one—was her name May?—spoke up. “We can take you to her. But we’re gonna have to confiscate your weapons first, and if you try anything then you’ll live to regret it.”
“Rest assured, I am not here to fight. Quite the opposite.”
She surrendered her small arsenal of weapons without protest—something she’d never have thought herself capable of—and when they were satisfied that she didn’t have any more hidden away they led her inside through a small and well-concealed door at the end of the alley. She could feel herself relax as soon as it closed behind them, the tension slowly draining from her body as the immediate threat dissipated.
She was led down a series of corridors, passing several doors on each side, until they arrived at a spacious room. The plaster on the walls was old and cracked, and piles of boxes and other storage containers were piled haphazardly in the corners, but overall it was surprisingly clean. There was a large table in the centre of the floor, covered in a map and other sheets of paper bearing what looked like notes and diagrams, and poring over it were Robyn Hill herself and another woman of much smaller stature with curly white hair.
“Robyn!” Mantle’s leader looked up as Joanna called her name, eyes widening as she realised that there was a stranger in her group’s private sanctum. “We have someone who says they’d like to talk to you. Don’t worry, though, we took their weapons. Can’t be too careful.”
Robyn came to stand in front of them, features softening slightly from shock to curiosity, “Thank you, Joanna. I can take it from here.”
May and Joanna went to clear the table, presumably to hide the likely sensitive information that they’d been looking over. Meanwhile, Robyn’s eyes scanned Winter from head to toe, studying her intently like she was trying to figure out who she was dealing with. “So, do I get to know with whom I have the honour of speaking?”
Knowing that she couldn’t put it off any longer, Winter reached up and pulled back her hood, watching Robyn’s expression become unreadable as recognition sparked in her eyes. “I know what you must be thinking—”
“No, I don’t think you do.” Robyn looked back at the others over her shoulder, seeing that they’d finished removing whatever incriminating materials had been on the table. “Could you give us the room, please?”
“Are you sure that’s—”
“It’s okay, Fiona. I can handle Winter Schnee just fine.”
The others reluctantly filed out of the room, though Winter had no doubt that they would probably be waiting just on the other side of the door in case she did anything to harm their precious leader. Once they were gone, Robyn turned back to face her, the nearly sympathetic look on her face catching Winter off guard. “You’re probably wondering why I’m here.”
“I’m wondering a lot of things right now, but that is certainly near the top of the list, yes.”
“I—” It was funny, Winter thought, that she’d focussed so much on getting here that she hadn’t stopped to consider exactly what she would say when she did. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she tried again. “I’m a defector now. Or a traitor, I suppose. Whatever term you want to use, I am no longer associated with Jam— with General Ironwood.”
Robyn seemed genuinely shocked by that, and she was silent for a long beat. “Can I ask why?”
“Any number of reasons. I guess that I finally became sick of standing by while he made choices that I couldn’t agree with. I spent my whole childhood under my father’s thumb, and then the General, he— he offered me an alternative. I was too blind to see that I had simply exchanged one set of chains for another. I spent so long following him—I believed in him, trusted him with my life—but what he’s doing is wrong, and he needs to be stopped. I no longer wish to blindly follow orders or sit around like a glorified puppet while he dooms us all. I want to choose who my sword belongs to. So I am here to offer my services, in whatever form you deem most useful. And also because I— I have nowhere else to go.”
She looked down at the floor, ashamed to have said so much more than she’d intended—to have spilled so many personal feelings to someone who had every reason not to trust her—and of the way her voice had cracked with emotion. In a flash of inspiration, she removed her glove and held out her hand, realising that there was a simple way to prove herself. “If you don’t believe me, then please feel free to test my honesty.”
But instead of her hand being taken, Robyn’s hands settled firmly on her shoulders. “Winter, look at me.” She did, albeit with some hesitation, and she was met with an openness that she hadn’t expected. “Before I take you up on your offer, I want you to know that I do believe you. It must have taken a great deal of courage to do this, and I can’t imagine you made that choice lightly.”
Robyn stepped back, clasping Winter’s uncovered hand firmly in her own instead. For several seconds her aura glowed silver, and then it gradually filtered green. The last of Winter’s anxiety faded, and Robyn let go of her hand with a satisfied smile. “You’d already earned my trust, but I owe it to my people not to take any unnecessary risks.” Winter nodded, all too familiar with the need to take every precaution possible, and Robyn’s expression turned more serious. “I am genuinely sorry if that made you uncomfortable, though.”
“No, I— I understand. If I’m honest, your dedication to your cause was always something I admired, ever since I first heard about you at the Academy.”
Robyn laughed. “I have to admit, that’s not a compliment that I ever expected to hear from a Schnee, but I appreciate it all the same. You might just fit in here after all.”
“Then you’ll accept my help?”
“If you want to give it. Otherwise you’re welcome to stay as long as you need until you decide where to go from here. This isn’t the army, Winter. You’re under no obligation to do anything that you don’t want to do.”
No obligation. It was a totally alien concept, but Winter was eager to discover what it felt like.
“Thank you, Robyn. I mean it.”