RWBY: Dark/Cold Front

Weiss took in a sharp breath. She cleared her throat, then exhaled slowly, quietly. She closed her eyes and began walking forward. She felt the ornate marble beneath her feet as she slowly walked into the room. She knew this room well. Today it would be the room where her fate would be decided.

As Weiss walked, she flashed back to the events that had brought her here.

She saw her father, Jacques Schnee. He had run the Schnee Dust Company with an iron fist, and Weiss respected him for that. He had grown the company by monopolizing Dust production in the Kingdoms, and save millions upon millions of Lien by increasing the amount of Faunus slaves in the mines and factories, reducing the need to pay employees. But everyone, no matter how powerful, must die someday, and Jacques’ day was fast approaching.

Weiss stood next to her father’s bed; her younger brother Whitley on one side of her, her older sister Winter on the other. Jacques’ aged, glossy eyes rolled over to gaze at them with a cold and disturbing stare.

“My children…” Jacques wheezed. He coughed violently, then continued. “Soon I will be dead, and the company will be left to one of you. My entire empire goes to the one that utilizes their training the best: you will fight. To the death. The one still alive in the end inherits everything. You inherit the world.”

Such it was decreed. Whitley, the spineless coward he was, surrendered his claim to the inheritance by refusing to fight against his clearly superior older sisters. Weiss figured that when she was through, she’d slit his obnoxious little throat for good measure.

Winter, on the other hand, was far from backing down. Weiss would not expect anything less from her strong older sister. Winter already had blood on her hands from Faunus slaves she beat, even executing a few that dared to stand up against the Schnees. Weiss knew this, and knew that her sister would not be afraid to spill blood, hers if necessary. Her father had decreed a fight to the death, so that was what he was going to receive. He had his secretary (a disgusting old hag with no sympathy for anyone, let alone the Schnee children) make the arrangements, and she decided that there was no better place to show off the accumulation of their combat training than the room where they trained for so many years: a vast, white marble war room dubbed the “White Castle”.

Now, today was the day. The secretary would look on as Weiss and Winter faced each other in a battle that would leave one as the heiress to the Schnee Dust Company fortune and the other a cold corpse in the ground.

Weiss did not even have to open her eyes to know where she was going; every inch of the White Castle was engraved, carved into her memory like an etching in stone: permanent and solid. Each time her foot hit the ground, she knew exactly what part of the floor she was on, right down to the pattern of the tiling beneath her feet. She remembered that those tiles would often be soaked with her sweat and blood as she persevered through vigorous training and ruthless beatings. She had to develop a pain tolerance, after all. Her father specifically requested that armored company guards beat her and her siblings during training to toughen them up. While Weiss admitted that it seemed unorthodox, she could not argue with the results.

As her footsteps fell, they echoed in the vast hall. Weiss could tell just from the sound of the echoes that all of the training and torture equipment had been removed, leaving the entire space hollow and spacious; perfect for a duel.

Weiss soon realized that she was approximately at the center of the ornate hall. She took a few more steps and stopped, her eyes still shut tight. As she exhaled, she heard footsteps in front of her. They were heavier than her own, but were still carried with the same stature and grace expected of a Schnee woman. She knew all of her family members’ footsteps: Whitley was fast and light, Jacques (when he could still walk) was slow and quiet, and Winter’s were steady and demanding. The sounds she heard now were unmistakably Winter’s. She heard the footsteps get closer and closer until they stopped. Weiss slowly opened her eyes and looked up at the figure before her.

Winter stared down at her, her cold eyes matching the intensity of her father’s. She was dressed in her normal attire: a regal, tight, bright white military uniform decorated with medals and ribbons. Her stature was straight and firm, with her arms crossed tightly behind her back. Her mouth was frozen in a permanent frown, as icy as the rest of her features.

Weiss took a deep breath in through her nose, then spoke. “Hello, sister.”

Winter was silent for a moment, her gaze as frigid as her namesake, before finally replying. “Weiss.”

The two had nothing else to say. They just stared at each other, and neither knew that the other was attempting to fight back the good memories they had shared with the other. They were sisters, after all, and while they had been raised in a lifestyle of individuality and isolation, they still felt the familial bond that pulled them together. They would train together, fight together, and work together. There were times Winter had dried Weiss’ tears, and times Weiss had made Winter laugh. Even now, as they plotted one another’s deaths, they still felt that bond.

Each of them tried to shake it. This sense of empathy could make them weak. If they were weak, they may loose. Both figured that the other had long abandoned empathy and was ready to strike them down without hesitation, when in reality both of them subconsciously dreaded the coming confrontation.

Their thoughts were interrupted by loud radio feedback. A course, all-too-familiar voice that both of them despised echoed around them.

“Greetings, daughters of Schnee,” the secretary cackled. “Today will be the day you will face one another in armed combat for the right to inherit the Schnee fortune.” She paused, seemingly relishing in the moment presented before her. “The battle will be to the death.” She paused again, but this time a faint chuckle could be heard before she continued. “Despite your training in formal combat and my preference in you using that, your father has decreed that you may use any means necessary to triumph.”

Weiss silently gasped. While she knew that Winter would probably stick to formal combat like her (as that was what they were used to), she realized that all she had to do was fall on her back and Winter could stomp her face in. There were more ways to be killed now.

“I will be watching the battle from my observation chamber,” the secretary continued. She chuckled again. “And may I just say, off the record, that I am very much looking forward to the ending.”

Both Weiss and Winter huffed, and Weiss shook her head. They both knew that the secretary had no empathy for either one of them, but neither were aware that she hated them enough to want to witness their deaths.

The secretary leaned into the microphone, so close that Weiss could almost smell her rancid breath though the hidden speakers. “Get ready.”

Winter promptly reached to the scabbard on her regal belt and swiftly pulled out her dueling saber. The blade flashed as it reflected the light and barely missed Weiss’ face. Winter held the blade at her side. Weiss reached to her rapier and swiftly unsheathed it, held it vertically in front of her face, and then pointed it to the ground.

The secretary chuckled again as she watched the two arm themselves. She pushed her spectacles into place and leaned into the microphone again. “Get set.”

Both Weiss and Winter simultaneously took a step backward and prepared, holding their weapons in readied positions to strike or defend.

Weiss and Winter locked eyes for one final moment. Both sets were focused, but both women thought they saw sadness in the others’. They mentally told themselves it could not be true.

The secretary breathed heavily into the microphone and practically pushed her face up against the glass of the observation booth. Though the Schnee girls could not see it, her smile was so large and so wicked that it would make a Grimm freeze in horror. She savored the moment for only a second longer, then leaned down so far that she practically had the microphone in her mouth and, on the verge of maniacally laughing, said:

“Kill.”

Both women moved at the same time, their weapons clashing in between them. They locked for only a second before winter pulled away and began a barrage of slashes at Weiss’ exposed sides. Weiss threw up her rapier vertically as each slash approached, blocking it back. Weiss stepped back, then waited for the volley to stop. As Winter retracted her blade, Weiss threw her rapier horizontal and lunged at her sister, almost sliding on the smooth marble floors. Winter slid backwards, dodging the blade and allowing it to pass next to her. Winter then quickly threw her blade into her other hand and stabbed at Weiss’ head. Weiss bent her neck sharply, allowing the attack to barely miss her. She leapt back to a safe distance, then prepared to defend.

Winter leapt into the air and brought her saber down on Weiss, who blocked it with a quick horizontal slash. Winter was left open, but her rapier was nowhere near where it needed to be for a clean impalement. Weiss only had to consider her options for the briefest moment before remembering that, while it was not exactly formal, she could use any means necessary. By order of her father. So Weiss raised her arm, curled her fingers, and threw a decent punch into Winter’s stomach.

Weiss felt Winter recoil under her fist, and heard a faint grunt. Winter stepped back and gently placed a hand on the impact zone, then leapt back into the air, raising her leg and kicking Weiss right in her face. Weiss tensed as the boot struck her, the heel sneaking between her lips and striking her in her teeth, and the rest planting itself firmly from the bridge of her nose to her hairline. Any lower, and the strike probably would have broken her nose. Weiss grunted as she staggered back, her arms flailing slightly as she attempted to regain balance. Then it hit her: she was exposed.

Winter rushed her exposed sibling, aiming the tip of her saber directly at Weiss’ throat. Winter hoped that, if she were able to stab Weiss through the neck, she may sever her spinal cord and end her life relatively painlessly.

Weiss, however, moved her head slightly, and just in time. She felt the blade skim her pale skin, the cold metal scraping against the side of her neck. Before the blade could even finish the journey, winter retracted it and, in a swift motion, swung it at Weiss’ face.

Weiss saw the attack too late. She pulled her head back in an attempt to dodge, but the ip of the blade shallowly dug above her left eye and slashed down to her cheekbone. Weiss yelped in pain as she jumped back, feeling the stinging on her face. She quickly dabbed the area with the palm of her hand and blinked rapidly to check the severity of the injury. She could still see; so the blade had not struck hard enough to hurt her eyeball or blind her. However, the palm of her hand had a linear streak of blood, and Weiss could feel the warm liquid run from the stinging wound run down her cold face.

Before she could contemplate the injury, Winter attacked again, this time aiming for Weiss’ exposed abdomen. Weiss threw her raper up vertically ad blocked the attack, with the two weapons locking on. Weiss looked up at her sister’s focused and furious face, then pushed her back and rapidly stabbed in her direction. Winter blocked and dodged most of the attacks, but a single one skimmed her shoulder, slightly tearing the uniform and creating a small superficial cut that began to slowly bleed. Winter huffed in more annoyance than pain, then lifted her leg again and planted her foot in Weiss’ gut. She kicked, pushing the younger girl back. Weiss grunted from the pressure, but realized it was more of a distancing maneuver as opposed to an attack.

Winter placed both of her hands on the handle of her saber, then began rapidly swinging. Weiss blocked each one, but felt the strength behind each blow as they began to push her back. Suddenly, Winter stabbed her blade downwards, below Weiss’ rapier, and thrust her arms upwards, forcing the rapier up and exposing Weiss’s abdomen again. Weiss gasped before realizing that the risky maneuver had exposed Winter as well. It was now just a matter of who was faster. As Winter pulled her arms back and prepared to thrust her blade into Weiss, Weiss pivoted her wrist and pointed her rapier at Winter. The two began to stab at the same time, but Weiss’ longer weapon gave her the advantage.

Weiss thrust the rapier directly through Winter’s abdomen, almost directly at her core. Winter gasped loudly as the blade impaled her, stabbing through the flesh above her belly button and digging through to the other side, where it burst through. Due to Weiss’ angle, the blade missed her spine, but it hit everything else. At least, everything it needed to. Winter’s weapon was only a centimeter away from Weiss’s stomach as Weiss finished pushing the weapon into Winter, the decorative hilt of the rapier pressing up against Winter’s uniform. Winter felt the metal pierce the skin on her back and break through, as she began gushing blood from both sides.

Weiss heard the secretary whoop and begin laughing as she finished the stab. She squeezed the handle tightly and reluctantly looked up to her sister’s face. Winter was trembling, her already pale face devoid of any and all color as her eyes stared forward in shock and fear. She coughed gently, and a trickle of blood ran from the side of her mouth. Weiss heard her weapon clatter to the floor as she began to go limp.

But Weiss could not do it. She could not let her sister die afraid.

The secretary’s mad laughter faded into the background as Weiss released her rapier and caught the limp Winter. She could feel her sister’s sharp breaths and violent trembles as she handled her, allowing herself to support Winter’s weight. She slowly and carefully took a knee, carrying Winter gently down. She then gradually reached for her weapon, gripped the handle, and swiftly pulled the bloody metal out. She heard winter yelp slightly as the blade was removed, and felt the warm blood as it seeped into her uniform. She threw the rapier to the ground with a clang, then gently laid Winter on her back.

Winter was still trembling and gasping, each breath becoming more and more shallow. Weiss got on her knees and leaned down, placing her hand on her sister’s head. Before she knew what was happening, her eyes began to tear up and she began to cry.

“I’m so sorry,” Weiss said through tears.

Winter’s eyes turned to look at Weiss’. Her trembling slowed, and her eyes began to tear up as well. “You… did what you had to…” she wheezed.

Weiss continued to sob. “I wish it hadn’t come to this,” she sniffled. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

Winter reached up and placed a hand on Weiss’ cheek. “Me neither… Weiss…” she gasped. “Just promise me you will be the most powerful CEO ever.”

Weiss just nodded as she took in her sister’s words. Winter inhaled sharply, then slowly exhaled. She blinked a few times, then looked at Weiss’s gash. “Weiss?”

Weiss ran her hand through Winter’s hair. “Yes, Winter?”

Winter groaned, but continued. “Can you please just…. do one more favor for me?”

Weiss nodded quickly, splashing tears. “Anything.”

“When you’re CEO, could you…. could you kill the secretary?”

Weiss had attempted to drown out her laughter, which was still going, and had tried to forget about her for this one moment, but the faint sound of her guffawing enraged her. “Of course,” Weiss replied. “My first act will be to have her thrown into a furnace in one of the Dust mines.”

Winter’s mouth raised into the faintest smile. “I… I’d like that. Thank you, Weiss.”

Weiss leaned down and kissed Winter’s forehead. “I love you, sis.”

Winter used her thumb to wipe away one last tear. “I love you too.”

Weiss shut her eyes in an attempt to hold back tears. As she did, she felt winter’s hand go limp on her cheek and heard her inhale slowly. Weiss opened her wet eyes to see Winter’s eyes roll back and close, her head fall limp, and her mouth part slightly as she slowly exhaled her last breath.

Weiss’s tears flowed into her wound, causing it to sting. The teardrop falling on Winter’s uniform were stained red. Weiss carefully placed Winter’s saber on her chest and crossed her arms over it.

The secretary caught her breath after her laughing fit, then spoke sinisterly to Weiss again.

“Congratulations, Weiss Schnee. You are now the sole heiress to the Schnee family fortune and future CEO of the Schnee Dust Company. As soon as your father passes, everything will belong to you. Do you have any requests before we inform your father of his successor?”

Weiss glanced down at Winter, then turned her head sharply towards the observation booth with a furious and hardened stare.

“Winter Schnee’s likeness is to be carved into a marble statue. Along with a golden plaque with her name, it will be a memorial and be placed outside of the Schnee manor. Furthermore, Winter will be buried in the Regal Mausoleum next to her mother.”

The secretary chortled. “But Weiss, that mausoleum is only for CEOs and their spouses. Why don’t we just put her in the cemetery with the rest of those unworthy of-“

Weiss cut her off, yelling. “It’s Madame Schnee or Lady Schnee to you, dolt!” she hollered in a tone that even took the secretary aback. “And Winter Schnee will be buried in the Regal Mausoleum! Do I make myself clear, you foul old crow?!”

The secretary stood in stunned silence for a moment, then leaned into the microphone again. “Yes, Madame Schnee.”

Weiss huffed, looked down to her sister one last time, and began walking out of the White Castle to tend to her injury. If she was not alone before, she certainly was now. As she walked, she realized that no one could feel as lonely as she did then.

She was the loneliest of all.

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