Weiss Schnee had always known her place in the grand estate of the Schnee family. Born into one of the wealthiest and most powerful families in Atlas, her life had been carefully planned since the day she was born.
At just five years old, she already understood that expectations weighed heavily upon her shoulders. Her father, Jacques Schnee, was a strict and imposing figure, always talking about business, the Schnee Dust Company, and the importance of maintaining the family's reputation. Her mother, Willow Schnee, was distant, lost in her own world, rarely offering more than a passing glance or a quiet sigh as she sipped her wine.
Weiss's only real comfort came from her older sister, Winter, who had always been kind to her, at least when she was allowed to be. Winter was strong, graceful, and everything Weiss admired. But even Winter was beginning to change. She was training harder, spending less time at home, and her father had been getting angry as of late. Weiss feared that one day, even her father would take his anger out on her.
Her days were filled with lessons in singing, etiquette, and history, all designed to mold her into the perfect heiress. That was what she was told by her father as of late, since Winter had no longer been recognized as the heiress of the Schnee Dust Company since she was leaving for the Military.
"That's why Sister and Father have been arguing lately, which explains why Winter hasn't been coming home." Weiss thought as she realized that it would only be her and Whitley whom Father would teach not to tarnish the family reputation.
Weiss sighed as she longed for something more. She had seen the way her father treated his workers, how the Faunus were looked down upon, how her mother was ignored. But she was just a child. What could she do?
Weiss couldn't stand how the Faunus were treated. It infuriated her that they were seen as less than human when they bled just like everyone else. She often questioned her father's cruel way, and that she should also treat them like pets, as if they were not worthy of even a second glance. It just didn't make sense to her.
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In the afternoon, as Weiss sat in the grand yet cold halls of the Schnee Manor, she let her small fingers trail along the polished marble floors. The grandeur of the estate did little to comfort her. It only made her feel smaller. She had been taught that she was special, that she was meant to be the shining jewel of the Schnee name, but all she truly felt was trapped.
A knock at the door startled her from her thoughts. She turned her head just as the large double doors creaked open. Winter stood there, dressed in her Atlas military uniform. Her expression was composed, but her eyes carried a warmth she reserved only for Weiss.
"Weiss," Winter greeted, stepping into the room. She closed the door behind her, her posture straight and disciplined.
"Winter!" Weiss ran to her sister, wrapping her small arms around her. Winter hesitated for just a moment before kneeling and embracing Weiss tightly.
"You haven't been home," Weiss mumbled into her shoulder, her voice small.
Winter sighed, pulling back to look at her little sister. "I know. Things have been… complicated." She brushed a strand of Weiss's white hair behind her ear. "But I wanted to see you before I left again."
"You're leaving again so soon?" Weiss asked, her blue eyes wide with concern.
Winter nodded. "Yes. Father isn't happy about my decision to join the military, but this is what I want. I can't stay here, Weiss."
Weiss frowned, glancing down at the floor. "But if you leave… I'll be alone. It'll just be me and Whitley."
Winter's expression softened, and she gently cupped Weiss's cheek. "You're strong, Weiss. Stronger than you think. And no matter where I go, I will always be your sister. Always."
Weiss sniffled, trying to hold back the tears welling in her eyes. "I don't want to be the heiress. I don't want to be like Father."
Winter's grip on her tightened. "Then don't be."
Weiss blinked up at her. "But… he says I have to. That it's my duty."
Winter's jaw tightened, a flicker of anger flashing in her usually composed gaze. "Father may have plans for you, but your life is yours, Weiss. You don't have to be what he wants you to be."
Weiss's heart pounded in her chest. The idea that she could be more than just the perfect Schnee heiress, that she could choose her own path...it felt impossible. And yet, Winter said it with such conviction that Weiss wanted to believe it.
No, she should believe in it, after all, she admired her big sister the most.
A knock at the door interrupted them.
"Weiss!" the commanding voice of Jacques Schnee. "It's time for your afternoon lessons. You know better than to keep your tutors waiting."
Winter immediately stiffened, her warmth vanishing as she straightened up. Weiss turned back to her sister, eyes pleading.
Winter hesitated, then leaned down to whisper, "One day, Weiss, you'll be free. I promise."
And with that, she stood, offering a final nod before heading toward the door. Weiss watched as her sister walked away, knowing that soon, she would truly be alone in this house.
As the heavy doors closed behind Winter, Weiss felt the cold return. The warmth of her sister's presence faded, leaving her alone once more. With a quiet sigh, she straightened her back, steeling herself as she turned to face the door.
Her father was waiting.
Weiss carefully walked down the halls, the soft clicks of her polished shoes echoing against the grand marble floors. She moved with the practiced grace expected of a Schnee, but her heart felt heavier with each step.
Her afternoon lessons were always the same. Etiquette, business, history. All the things Jacques deemed necessary for a proper heiress. She hated them.
As she entered the study, her father stood by the window, his back turned to her. His crisp white suit was immaculate as always, and his hands were clasped behind him. Without looking at her, he spoke.
"You kept your tutors waiting," he said without turning.
"I'm sorry, Father," Weiss said softly.
Jacques turned, eyes like frost. "Sorry is for the weak. You are a Schnee. Weakness is unacceptable."
Weiss flinched, nodding, her voice caught in her throat.
Weiss nodded silently, lowering her gaze.
"Sit," he ordered. "I expect good results by the end of the week."
Jacques then left the room. Weiss looked at the tutor she had been seeing for the past months.
Her stern tutor, a woman with glasses, was already waiting...
"You're late. This is something unacceptable," the woman said without looking up.
"I'm sorry," Weiss replied, her voice polite, measured. Controlled.
They began the lesson with history, specifically, the foundation of the Schnee Dust Company. Weiss recited the dates, the names, the economic impact Dust had across the four kingdoms—all facts, all numbers. A carefully crafted story that painted her family as pioneers.
But none of it mentioned the protests. The mines. The Faunus.
She stopped reading.
"Miss Schnee?" the tutor asked sharply.
Weiss tapped the page. "Why doesn't this mention the Faunus protests?"
The woman blinked. "That... isn't relevant to your role as heiress."
"But it happened, didn't it? The White Fang, the mines—"
The woman blinked behind her glasses. "That... isn't relevant to your role as heiress."
"But it happened, didn't it? The White Fang, the labor strikes, the mines—" she hesitated, remembering something Winter had once whispered when Father wasn't near. "The Mountain Glenn incident."
Her tutor closed the book sharply. "That's enough for today, Miss Schnee."
Weiss frowned, the name White Fang lingering in her mind. She had heard whispers of servants who talked behind closed doors, headlines glimpsed before being snatched away. The Faunus weren't just miners or workers or numbers in her father's boardroom. They were people. People who were angry. People who were tired of being treated like tools.
And maybe they were right to be.
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Later that evening, Weiss sat by the window of her room, the night air fogging the glass as her breath painted it white. Outside, Atlas glittered like stars fallen from the sky, cold and beautiful. But it didn't feel like home.
She hugged her knees to her chest, humming a lullaby Winter used to sing to her before bed. Her singing voice was one of the few things her father praised—"a voice worthy of a Schnee," he once said.
But Weiss didn't want praise. She wanted truth. She wanted warmth.
Her eyes drifted to her desk, where an old newspaper clipping sat half-folded. She had taken it from one of the downstairs parlors when no one was looking. It was about a Faunus protest in Vale. Most of the article painted them as radicals, as threats. But the picture showed something different—a young Faunus boy holding a sign. We Are Not Your Slaves.
Weiss stared at the boy's face.
He didn't look dangerous.
He looked angry. And tired. And scared.
Just like her.
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That night, she dreamed of a world blanketed in snow—not the bitter cold kind that bites into your bones, but a soft, gentle snow that fell over a forest where wolves, rabbits, and deer roamed peacefully together. In the center of this serene scene stood a girl, older and stronger than before. In her hand, she held a puppet that resembled a knight, while two figures stood beside her: one wielded a scythe, and the other wore a hood and held a sword.
The girl looked just like herself, except she was wearing a different outfit. She had on a blue raincoat with a rabbit theme, complete with a poofy tail adorned with a pink ribbon tied to the coattail, and a pair of rabbit ears on the hood. The coat was lined with a gold zigzag pattern and white frills, and the sleeves were partially detached at her upper arms. She wore blue boots that matched her raincoat, with blue socks peeking out from inside. Underneath the raincoat, she had on a white dress and a pink ribbon around her neck.
But her eyes were different; they had a blue dot in the center of each pupil. Those eyes seemed free and happy, and she envied that feeling. She wanted to experience it.
When Weiss awoke the next morning, the dream still clung to her mind like frost on a window. She dressed in silence, ate in silence, and endured another day of silence in the Schnee estate.
But something inside her had changed.
The girl she had seen in her dreams… she wanted to become her.
Not an heiress.
Not her father's puppet.
Not a perfect doll.
But someone who could stand tall, speak out, fight for what was right.
Someone who would never again be trapped.
One night, she found herself lying on the floor in the courtyard, staring at a handsome guy. He had crashed into the courtyard and landed nearby, wielding a Scythe in his left hand. However, what truly captivated her was the dot in his pupil, which resembled the version of herself she had seen in her dreams.
Weiss sat up slowly, eyes wide. She didn't scream. Didn't run. Instead, she crawled a little closer, eyes locked on the strange symbol in his gaze.
"That's… just like mine," she whispered, lifting a hand to her face, as if to confirm it wasn't a dream.
The boy smiled warmly, like he already knew her.
"Hey, the name is Grayson," he said. "Weiss Schnee, I can see in your eyes that you hate being here. Do you want me to help you get out?"In his right hand, he held a floating blue crystal that pulsed like it was alive, calling to her.
Weiss didn't answer immediately. Her fingers twitched. Her lips parted. She didn't know why, but...she believed him.