Reunited (Rewritten)
The door to the Seacole house was still unlocked when they returned the next morning. It creaked as Primrose Seacole pushed it open, and then took a few tentative steps inside.
Weiss watched her from behind, lingering, unsure of whether or not to follow.
“Hello?” Primrose called. “Grand—”
“Prim!” Lavender yelled as she emerged from out of the gloomy, dimly-lit home to tackle her sister in a hug so fierce, it nearly knocked the older girl off her feet. She wrapped her arms around her sister as she shouted, “Grandma, look; Prim’s back!”
Weiss felt more than slightly like a voyeur for witnessing this moment; she thought that perhaps she ought to have waited further away, so as to better absent themselves from the family reunion altogether.
She knew from personal experience how shameful it could be to have your family moments played out in public for the delectation of others, and although she was mainly thinking of less joyous moments than this by far, she could not imagine that having witnesses to your pleasure was so much better than having witnesses to your pain. Except inasmuch as pleasure was preferable to pain.
But another part of her wanted to be here nevertheless, if only so that Laberna knew that she had kept her promise and that her faith in the Schnee girls had not been in vain.
For that reason, she found herself drawn inside the house, her feet walking forward as though her boots were possessed, carrying her within until she could see Laberna, sat in the same chair as she had been on Weiss’ last visit, her eyes closed, looking as though she might be sleeping.
As though Weiss’ thought had prompted her, Laberna chose that very moment to open her eyes. She spoke, in a voice that remained frail but which nevertheless seemed to grow stronger with every word that passed her wrinkled lips. “Prim? Primrose, is it really you?”
“Yes,” Prim said, her voice sounding a little choked up. She approached her grandmother, though she kept one arm wrapped around her younger sister as she did so. “Yeah, I’m right here, Grandma.”
Laberna let out a long, deep sigh of relief. “Oh, praise be. Thank the God of the Faunus. Praise Him, praise His name.” She sighed a second time. “Come here, child. Let me hold you.”
Both girls flung themselves into their grandmother’s embrace, not just Primrose, but Laberna raised no objection to it. She wrapped her wrinkled arms around both her granddaughters just the same, and held them close as they laid their heads upon her shoulders.
“You’re home now,” Laberna whispered, as though they were still children. “You’re home now, and everything’s going to be okay from now on.”
If only that were true, Weiss thought.
It will be true; I will make sure of it … somehow.
“I don’t know what you’ve been through, Prim,” Laberna went on. “But if you want to talk about it, I’m all ears. But if you don’t want to talk about it, I won’t push you, not one little bit. You say as much or as little as you need to, and nothing more, understand?”
“I understand,” Prim murmured. “Thanks, Grandma, I … I’m not sure that I really want to talk about it right now.”
“Of course,” Laberna said softly. “Of course. If and when you’re ready, child, if and when.”
Prim seemed satisfied with that. For a moment, she closed her eyes and rested silently in the embrace of her grandmother. After a moment, however, she said, “Grandma, I … I’m sorry.”
“'Sorry'?” Laberna asked. “Now what in all of Remnant do you have to be sorry about?”
“All those times when you used to tell stories about working up in the Schnee house, about taking care of the Schnee kids,” Prim explained. “I thought … I thought that you were lying, or else fooling yourself. I thought there was no way that they could possibly give a damn about you or about us. I hated the way that you spent more time with them than you did with your own family.”
She half pulled away from her grandmother and looked back to where Weiss stood, hitherto a silent observer to the scene.
“But a Schnee came to get me. She saved me; she saved all of us. I guess I was wrong about them after all.” She had looked at Weiss but spoken to her grandmother, but now it was to Weiss herself that she said, “I guess … I guess that means that I owe you an apology as well.”
“No,” Weiss said, softly but firmly. “You don’t. What I did … is nothing more than your family deserves from mine. It doesn’t begin to cover the debt that I owe you. That the whole family owes you.”
“Miss Weiss?” Laberna asked. “Is that you?”
“Yes,” Weiss said. “Yes, I came back, and I brought your granddaughter with me, just as I said I would.” She had no idea if the old woman could see her smile, but she smiled regardless. “And you don’t need to call me Miss Weiss like that; you’re not my servant anymore.”
“Maybe not, but all the same,” Laberna replied. “Where would you get the idea that you owe me anything?”
A little incredulous scoff escaped from between Weiss’ lips, although she didn’t mean it to. “Isn’t it obvious?” she asked.
“What’s obvious to me is that Prim is here,” Laberna said. “Primrose is home. You bought my granddaughter back to me, just like you said you would.” She had to pause for breath. “Now, what could you possibly have done to me or mine that would mean we still weren’t square after doing that?”
“Fired you?” Weiss suggested, the incredulity in her tone only mounting. “Thrown you out? Forced you to live … to live here, like this? Have you been here all this time?”
“I never used to live anywhere else,” Laberna said softly.
Weiss was silent for a moment. Shock stole away her voice. Never lived anywhere else. She swallowed. “Even … not even in Grandfather’s time? That’s not possible, Grandfather—”
“Old Mister Schnee was a fine man,” Laberna said. “Hard working, always had the manner of a gentleman no matter who he was speaking with, generous with his time, always willing to help if he could. But he didn’t get to be the richest man in Atlas by giving his lien away, and why should he?”
Because our house could fit this entire town into just one wing? Because you literally raised his daughter, and his grandchildren, and isn’t that worth rewarding, if anything is? Because you spent more time with me than with your own grandchildren, by their account?
Because I thought he was a better man than my father.
Perhaps he still was. After all, Laberna had praised his virtues when she had no cause to do so, and of those virtues, only hard work could possibly be attributed to Jacques Schnee. And yet … and yet, Weiss could not help but feel disappointed. She had thought — and it seemed that Laberna had thought so as well — that going to the aid of the Seacoles, springing into action, was what Nicholas Schnee would have done.
Perhaps it was what he would have done. Likely, it was what he would have done. And yet, Weiss had thought, she had assumed, she had taken from that that Nicholas Schnee would also have rewarded his faithful servants.
But of course, Nicholas Schnee had been a businessman, for all that he had possessed, as Laberna put it, the manners of a gentleman. He had been a frugal businessman nonetheless, and Weiss had been somewhat naïve to forget that.
But if I’m not my father, then I don’t have to be my grandfather, either.
“I promised you that I would bring your granddaughter home,” she said. “I gave you my word as a Schnee, and I kept my word. I give you my word again, now: I will make this right. Because it isn’t right that someone who raised my mother, solaced my grandfather, did so much for me and my family should live … like this. I will make it right.”
Even if I don’t yet know how.
Laberna chuckled. “Well, if you want to, I certainly wouldn’t object. But you’ve done … even if you do nothing else, nothing at all … you put my family back together, and I will always be grateful for that.”
“And I will do more,” Weiss declared. “I swear it. So please … wait for me.”
“Explain something to me,” Blake said.
“What?” Rainbow asked.
Blake paused for a moment to take stock of their situation. She could feel the chill air of Low Town on her face, she could feel the cold metal beneath her, but she could also feel the warmth of the sandwich against her hands and fingers.
“We’re in the dark,” she observed.
“Uh huh,” Rainbow agreed. “Although that shouldn’t bother you because you can see in the dark.”
Blake glanced at her. “If it bothers you that much that you can’t see in the dark, then why are you wearing sunglasses?”
“Did I say that it bothered me?” Rainbow responded.
“No,” admitted Blake. “No, you didn’t.” She paused for a moment. “We’re in the dark,” she repeated, “and we’re sitting on the wing of an airship, which is not the most comfortable place to be sitting.”
“Well, I’m sorry that when I upgraded The Bus, I didn’t put padded seats on the wings,” Rainbow replied. “Besides, it’s not that uncomfortable.”
“It certainly isn’t comfortable.”
“There are no comfortable seats around here, take it from me.”
Blake didn’t dispute the point. Rather, she went on, saying, “And we just found out that a true mad scientist, if anyone living deserves that name, has been kidnapping faunus for some kind of twisted experiments — and he’s still out there, somewhere.”
There was a moment of quiet, a quiet that was broken only by the sound of Rainbow munching and chewing. She swallowed. “What are you getting at?”
Blake let out a little snort. “Well … given all that, all that I’ve just said, I was hoping that you might be able to tell me … why I feel so good right now?”
Rainbow swallowed another mouthful of meatball sub. “It’s because Grampa Gruff’s sandwiches are really that good,” she averred.
“Rainbow Dash!” Blake scolded her. “I’m being serious.”
“So am I; I’d forgotten how good these were,” Rainbow said. “Are you not enjoying that?”
Blake was, in fact, enjoying that. She was enjoying it far more than she’d expected when Rainbow had insisted that Blake had to come with her back to Grampa Gruff’s while they waited for Weiss to finish with her business in Low Town.
“You again,” said Grampa Gruff dismissively as they strode in, their presence announced by the jingling of the bell above the door.
“Us again,” Rainbow agreed, a little bit of a swagger in her step compared to their last. “We’re back, having just saved Low Town.”
Grampa Gruff snorted. “'Saved Low Town,' huh?” he repeated. “Let me ask you something, is it still dark outside?”
“Yeah.”
“And are folks still poor out there?”
“Yes,” Rainbow admitted.
“Then you haven’t saved Low Town yet.”
Rainbow pouted, but said, “You know what, you might be right. You’re more than maybe right. But we did stop those kidnappings and rescue a whole bunch of people, so could you turn down the attitude just a little bit?”
“What do you want, a hero’s welcome?”
Rainbow rolled her eyes. “I’m not asking for a parade, Grampa; I’m asking for a meatball sub.”
Grampa Gruff was silent for a moment. “Those kidnappings have really stopped?” he demanded.
“Yep,” Rainbow declared. “They won’t be bothering Low Town anymore.”
Grampa Gruff nodded thoughtfully. “Well,” he said, “I guess maybe that does deserve a sandwich. That’ll be five lien.”
Rainbow stared at him.
“What? You thought I was going to give it away for free?” Grampa Gruff demanded.
“No, I don’t know why I was that naïve,” Rainbow muttered. She stuck her hand into one of her jacket pockets. “What do you want, Blake? It’s my treat.”
“Um…” Blake looked over Grampa Gruff’s head to see the selection and prices. “I’ll have a tuna melt, please.”
Rainbow glanced at her. “You’re such a stereotype sometimes.”
“It is very nice,” Blake admitted. She took another bite out of her tuna melt; it was incredibly succulent, and rich upon her tongue. The cheese and the tuna blended together masterfully. “But I don’t think that’s it.”
“No,” Rainbow agreed, her tone becoming a little more serious. “You feel good because you’ve done good. Because we did a good thing. A simple good thing. We stopped the bad guys, we saved the people, we did save Low Town, no matter what Grampa Gruff says. Okay, sure, we haven’t saved it from everything that’s wrong with it, but we saved it all the same. People are back home where they belong, with their families. We did a good thing.” She paused. “That’s why I’m wearing sunglasses in the dark.”
Blake blinked. “Because we did a good thing?”
“A good thing, and a cool thing,” Rainbow insisted. “We did something unambiguously good and cool and heroic, and moments like these … don’t come around often enough.”
“But Merlot is still out there,” Blake pointed out.
“So is Salem,” Rainbow said. “So are the grimm. So … it never ends. There’s always something. You know what the biggest difference between real life and a story is?”
“I’ve got ideas, but you clearly have a thought in mind.”
“We never get to reach ‘safe’,” Rainbow said. “We never get to reach that point where the hero can look back at everything he’s done and realise that that’s it. He’s wrapped up everything they needed to. We don’t have that luxury because we’ll never be done … but that doesn’t mean that we can’t celebrate the wins, if only with a nice sandwich on top of the wing of an airship.” She grinned. “And you know that, because that’s why you feel so good: it’s your heart telling you that you did good today.”
But what happens now? Blake wondered. She thought about asking Rainbow, but decided against it. Like Rainbow had just said: moments like these were rare enough that they shouldn’t be disturbed too much.
And besides, it wasn’t as though nothing was being done. General Ironwood was going to reach out to the Valish to take another look at records of the fall of Mountain Glenn and see whether there was any way Doctor Merlot could have survived. The Atlesians themselves were investigating the ruins of the facility where the faunus prisoners were being held. Something might yet result from one or both of those efforts.
And if Doctor Merlot tried anything like this again, Atlas would be more on guard against him.
She hoped it would, at least.
Blake shook her head a little. She might not be spoiling the moment for Rainbow Dash, but she was on the verge of spoiling it for herself. Rainbow was right: they had won a victory, they had saved lives, they had accomplished everything a huntress should. She should savour the taste of that.
Especially when it tasted like this delicious tuna melt.
“Blake?” Weiss called out. “Rainbow Dash?”
“We’re up here,” Blake replied, since she could see Weiss down below, but it was clear from the way that she was looking around that Weiss could not see them. “On the wing.”
Weiss looked up; perhaps she still couldn’t see them in the gloom, but the direction alone was enough for her to conjure a staircase of glyphs, each one higher than the other, rising in a spiral up which she leapt with a dancer’s agile grace until she jumped lightly onto the wing beside them.
“What are you doing up here?” she asked.
Rainbow shrugged. “Don’t you ever do things for no reason?”
“Not really,” Weiss said.
“Maybe you should start,” Rainbow suggested.
“How was it?” Blake asked.
“They were all very happy to be reunited,” Weiss said as she sat down beside them, her legs dangling down over the side of the wing. “And very grateful. Too grateful.” She sighed. “More grateful than I deserved.”
“You saved that girl’s life,” Rainbow pointed out. “You reunited her with her family.”
“What kind of life?” Weiss replied. “What kind of life will she have, growing up here, in this place? It isn’t right, not for someone who once served the Schnee family so well.”
“It isn’t right for anyone,” Blake murmured.
“I know,” Weiss allowed. “But you were the one who told me it was alright to only care about the Seacoles.”
“I’m not criticising,” Blake said hastily. “I’m just … pointing it out.”
Weiss was silent for a moment. “I promised to get her out,” she said. “But I’ve no idea how.” Her scroll buzzed. She took it out, and then promptly put it away again. “And now my father has realised I’m not where I’m supposed to be.”
Rainbow looked from Blake, to Weiss, then back to Blake again. “You two want to grab some lunch?” she asked abruptly.
Blake frowned, wondering at the relevance. “We’ve just eaten,” she pointed out.
“This won’t be a very filling lunch; don’t worry,” Rainbow replied.
“Why are you talking about lunch at all?” asked Weiss.
“Because Councillor Cadance mentioned that she wanted to meet Blake, and I’m sure she wouldn’t mind the heiress to the Schnee Dust Company tagging along as well,” Rainbow replied. “Maybe she’ll have some idea on how to help your old nanny, or help Low Town. And … I think you’ll like her,” she added to Blake. “And she wanted to meet you.”
“Is this the Councillor whose wedding was—?”
“She doesn’t hold a grudge,” Rainbow assured her. “Cadance isn’t like that.”
Then why does she want to meet with me? Blake wondered. Then she wondered if it really mattered why the Councillor wanted to meet with her. The fact of the matter was that she did want to meet, and that was an opportunity not to be squandered. Her parents would have given their right arms for a meeting like this during their campaigning days.
“I’m in,” Blake said.
“So am I, if the Councillor is willing to see me,” Weiss added. “If she’s willing to see any of us at such short notice.”
“I’m certain that she’ll be able to fit us in,” Rainbow said. “Just let me make the call.”
She wolfed down the rest of her sandwich, then leapt off the wing of the airship to land upon the ground below.
Blake could still hear her down there, although she couldn’t see the face of Councillor Cadance; Rainbow’s scroll was now too far away for that.
She could hear her voice emerging from the device well enough though, even if she had to prick up her ears to do so.
“Rainbow Dash,” she said. “I hear you’ve had quite an adventure over the last night.”
“News travels fast,” Rainbow observed.
“It pays for someone in my position to keep abreast of events,” Councillor Cadance replied. “Does your call relate to this business in Low Town, or is something else going on that I should be aware of?”
“It’s kind of related,” Rainbow said. “Do you remember you told me you wanted to speak to Blake Belladonna? Well, would you be able to fit her in … today? Oh, and Weiss Schnee, as well.”
“A Belladonna and a Schnee in the same room?” Councillor Cadence asked. “How did you manage that?”
“It just… sort of happened,” said Rainbow Dash. “I didn’t do anything.”
“I’m sure there’s a story there,” Councillor Cadance said. “This is a little short notice, Dash—”
“Sorry.”
“But I’ll be able to fit you in at noon,” Cadance went on. “Bring them to my office then.”
“Yes, ma’am; we’ll be there.” Rainbow said. She closed her scroll. “You guys hear that?”
“Loud and clear,” Blake replied.
“That’s okay with you both, right?”
“It’s fine with me,” Blake said.
“It’s acceptable,” Weiss murmured. “Although I wonder how many times my father will call by then.”
Blake glanced at her, but found that she was unsure what, if anything, she could or ought to say upon the subject. So she found herself saying instead, “What are we going to do until then?”
“Well, if we’re going to meet with a Councillor,” Rainbow said, “we should probably take the time to shower and change.”
That was easier said than done in Weiss’ case. Rainbow Dash, of course, could go back to Atlas Academy to shower and change out of her combat gear into the white uniform of the academy; Blake could go back to the house of a friend where she was staying while she was in the city — Weiss didn’t know what she was going to end up wearing, but presumably, Blake had options.
But Weiss … Weiss had many outfits perfectly suitable to wear when meeting an Atlesian Councillor, of course, and she had worn many of them to do just that, if only as a decorative ornament standing just behind her father. But all of her suitable outfits, not to mention her shower, were back at Schnee Manor, and Weiss had a sense that when she arrived back at her father’s house, she would not be leaving, at least not in time to make a noon appointment with Councillor Cadenza.
Which was why, as Rainbow’s airship carried the three of them up from Low Town back to Atlas, Weiss stepped into the cockpit and said, “Rainbow Dash? I might need a little of that Civis Atlarum Sum assistance that you once promised me?”
Rainbow glanced at her. “I was starting to think that I’d offended you with that,” she said softly.
“I know that you didn’t mean to,” Weiss replied, “but … as a huntress, I can make my own way on the battlefield.”
“I never meant to imply you couldn’t,” Rainbow said, “but there are some things that even the best huntress can’t handle alone.”
“Indeed,” Weiss murmured. “Just so long as you don’t call me ‘Miss Schnee,’ we’ll be fine.”
Rainbow smiled. “Right. So, what can I do for you?”
“Can I come back to the Academy with you?” Weiss asked. “As you say, we could use a shower, and I … it would be best if I didn’t go home right away.”
“That’s it?” Rainbow asked. “Yeah, sure, you can do that. Do you need to borrow some clothes as well?”
“No, thank you, at least I hope not,” Weiss replied. “I’ve got an idea about that.”
She stepped out of the cockpit, and got out her scroll.
There was another missed call from her father, but Weiss ignored it. Rather, she texted Klein.
Weiss: Please call me when my father isn’t around to overhear.
She was rewarded with a call mere moments after she had sent the message.
“That was a very prompt response, Klein,” Weiss observed as she answered.
“Thank goodness I heard from you, Miss Weiss,” Klein said. “I was beginning to grow a little concerned.”
“I’m fine, Klein,” Weiss assured him. “And so are all the Seacoles. Everything … well, everything immediate has been taken care of.”
“You found the missing girl?”
“Yes,” Weiss said, “and others besides.”
Klein smiled. “Congratulations, Miss Weiss. And how is old Mrs. Seacole?”
“Not too well, I’m afraid,” Weiss murmured. “I’m going to try and get her out of there, which is somewhat in relation to why I’m calling you.”
“You’re not coming home then?” Klein asked.
“Not right away, no,” Weiss replied.
“I see,” Klein said softly. “I’m afraid that Mister Schnee has noticed your absence. I told him that I had no idea where you were, and you must have departed without me noticing or being informed.”
“That was very kind of you, Klein, but a big risk,” Weiss said. “If Whitley tells Father the truth—”
“Mister Schnee has not asked Master Whitley if he has any information,” Klein informed her. “He doesn’t seem to consider that Master Whitley might know anything.”
“Thank goodness for that,” Weiss said. “Klein, I know this may be difficult, but can you get out of the house and meet me at Atlas Academy with a change of clothes? I’m about to meet with a member of the Council, and I’d rather not do it in the same outfit I’ve been wearing all night.”
“I will do my best, Miss Weiss. Is there anything in particular that you would like to wear?”
Weiss chuckled. “Something smart,” she said, “but something that you can get out of the house easily. Other than that, I trust your judgement.”
“I will do my best not to disappoint you, Miss Weiss.”
Weiss smiled. “You never do.”
And indeed he did not. Klein was waiting for her when she arrived at Atlas Academy, with a royal blue — not her favourite colour, but it did flatter her eyes — midi dress, with a square neck and short sleeves extending just past the shoulders. The skirt was somewhat layered, descending just past her knees and flaring out on the left hand side. A sash of the colour as the dress clinched around the waist, held in place by a buckle of diamonds and pearls. Klein had also brought her a crisp white jacket to wear over the top.
“Thank you, Klein,” Weiss said, as she received the dress and jacket both. “This will do nicely.”
“Always a pleasure to be of service,” Klein said. He paused for a moment, before he added, “I must say, Miss Weiss, your father is rather upset with you for your absence. I’m afraid that when you do come home, he will have hot words for you.”
“You’re probably right,” Weiss said softly. “Thank you for telling me, but … I don’t think I could have done anything else but what I’ve done.”
“No, Miss, I’m sure you’re right,” Klein said. “And I, for one, wouldn’t have you any other way.”
Weiss was recognised in Atlas Academy — how could she not be, being the daughter of Jacques Schnee, the heiress to the Schnee Dust Company? — but fortunately, the academy was sparsely populated at present, and though the few students that she passed along the corridors gawked a little and whispered somewhat, nobody approached her, or even said anything. As a result, she was able to reach the Team RSPT dormitory, borrow Rainbow Dash’s toiletries — the other team leader seemed a little embarrassed by the fact that it was two-in-one shampoo and conditioner, as if she expected Weiss to turn her nose up at it out of sheer snobbery — and hit the shower before changing into the dress Klein had provided for her.
Black stockings wouldn’t have particularly gone with the dress — and neither would the grey Atlas Academy stockings she could have borrowed from Rainbow Dash — so it would just be her white boots, and a little touch of her legs bare to the world. Fortunately, the heating grid would stop her from getting too cold.
“How do I look?” she asked Rainbow Dash.
“I’m the last person to judge, but … I think you look nice,” Rainbow replied. Her brow furrowed. “Do you mind if I ask you something?”
“That depends.”
“How did you get that scar?”
Reflexively, Weiss’ hand went to the scar that crossed her left eye. “That…”
“You don’t have to say. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine,” Weiss interrupted. “This scar … my father’s test. Before he would allow me to go to Beacon, before he would allow me to represent the Schnee family at Beacon, I had to prove myself. Prove that I wouldn’t embarrass him and the family name.”
“You had to fight someone,” Rainbow said.
“Something,” Weiss clarified. “A grimm. A geist, possessing a suit of armour.”
Rainbow’s eyes widened. “You … your father … your father caught a grimm, stuck it in a suit of armour, and had you fight it?”
“As I said, I had to prove myself.”
Rainbow stared at her, eyes wide, mouth open, hands hanging limp by her sides, looking as though she were seeing Weiss with new eyes. “That … okay, now I get why you were insulted.”
“I’m not—”
“Yes, you were,” Rainbow said. “And regardless of my motives, you had a right to be, because you’re the real deal, aren’t you?”
“No, I wouldn’t say so,” Weiss said softly. “Not yet, anyway. But I can try to be, by fighting my own battles and by helping others whenever I can.”
Like the Seacoles.
I’ve saved Primrose; now … now I need to save the family.