Weiss Schnee was, for once, alone in the RWBY dormroom. She was doing some studying, completing an essay on Dust formations and how they could be used tactically, when her Scroll broke the quiet with a loud hum. She checked the screen. It was flashing with a name that made her stomach twist: Jacques Schnee.
She hesitated, her ice-blue eyes narrowing, before answering with a practiced, neutral tone. The call was rare—her father seldom reached out—and never pleasant, but today's conversation would veer into the utterly bizarre.
"Father," she greeted neutrally.
"Weiss," Jacques's voice crackled through, cold and commanding, "I want to know one thing. Is there a Jaune Arc at your school?"
Weiss's brow furrowed, her voice cautious. "Yesss…?"
"Of the Radian Arcs?" Jacques pressed, his tone sharp. "Uses a sword called Crocea Mors?"
Weiss blinked, her confusion deepening. "I… Think so?"
"Good," Jacques said, his voice tightening with disdain. "I want you to steer clear of him. Have nothing to do with him at all!"
Weiss's grip on her Scroll tightened, her voice rising with bewilderment. "I—Wait, what? Why?"
"The Arcs are our family enemies," Jacques spat, his words dripping with venom.
Weiss blinked rapidly.
"They are?" She asked.
"Yes," Jacques nodded, "In my youth, this-this Jaune's father tried to woo your mother! While he was bodyguarding her no less! He was shameless! Thankfully, he failed, but he insulted me to my face many times! Even physically assaulted me!"
Weiss stared in astonishment. That her father was even admitting to something like that was… Huge. And that said man had gotten away with crossing Jacques Schnee was even more amazing. After all, Jaune didn't speak of his father in the past tense.
"The family has further thwarted my efforts to acquire Dust mines in North Sanus! His great-grandmother insulted me at a town meeting and mocked my manhood! She convinced the local council to reject my business offer! They are persona non grata to me, and should be to you, too!"
Weiss's jaw dropped, her voice flat with disbelief.
"…Really?"
Some little old lady did that?! The mystery about the Arcs grew… As did Weiss' unintentional admiration for them.
"Yes!" Jacques snapped. "In addition, his mother is a real…" He hesitated in using a slur, his eyes darting to and fro. While Weiss wouldn't call it fear, he was… Reluctant to bad mouth the woman. Someone who could make her father do that was rare.
"… She refused to become our exclusive physician. She refused ME. They are not to be trusted or associated with. Understood?"
Weiss's lips twitched, suppressing a smirk, her voice obedient but laced with irony.
"Yes, Father."
"Good," Jacques said, his tone final. "Remember: Nothing to do with that boy at all!"
"Of course, Father!" Weiss said, her voice overly sweet, which as usual Jacques took no heed of.
The call ended, and Weiss stared at her Scroll, her mind racing. The sheer pettiness of her father's vendetta was almost laughable, and the idea of Jaune Arc—clumsy, earnest, infuriatingly persistent Jaune—as a family nemesis was absurd. Yet, a spark of defiance flared in her chest, and her lips curling into a sly smile.
Perhaps it was because of the dolts she was surrounded with. Perhaps it was after the disappointment she had suffered with Neptune and Jaune's earnest efforts to be her friend.
Perhaps it was just the thought of her father suffering a heart attack, but Weiss Schnee… Had an idea.
A wonderful idea.
A wonderful, awful idea…
- - -
Later, in Beacon's courtyard, Jaune Arc was polishing Crocea Mors. He had to agree with Ruby: There was something therapeutic about weapons maintenance out in the bright sunshine.
So engrossed in this, he didn't notice when Weiss marched up, her white combat skirt swishing, her expression a mix of determination and mischief. He looked up, his blue eyes wary, his hoodie slightly askew.
"Hm? Oh, hey, Weiss," Jaune said, rubbing his neck. It had been weeks since the dance and he had been making an effort to be her friend rather than her suitor.
"Um, what can I do for you-?"
"Apparently, our families are mortal enemies," Weiss interrupted, her voice crisp, her arms crossed.
Jaune blinked, his jaw dropping. "…What? They are?"
"Yes!" Weiss said, her tone almost gleeful. "My father truly hates your family! Entirely! And wants me to have nothing to do with you!"
Oh great, Jaune mentally groaned, No wonder she wanted nothing to do with me! I mean, even more than in general!
Jaune's brow furrowed, his voice hesitant.
"Well… I mean, if you want, I'll just—"
"So you're taking me out on a date Friday night," Weiss declared, her eyes glinting with glee.
Jaune's brain stalled, his voice a stammer.
"…I… Am?"
"Yes, you are," Weiss said, her smile sharp, daring him to argue.
"Even though our families are supposedly mortal enemies?" Jaune asked, his confusion deepening.
"Yep!" Weiss said, her voice bright, her rebellion against Jacques fueling her resolve.
Jaune stared, his voice slow, as if testing reality for any faults that might lead to a total collapse.
"…Okay?"
Weiss nodded, turning on her heel, her voice firm but playful.
"Dress nice. Bring flowers." She strode off, her ponytail bouncing, a triumphant smile spreading across her face.
Jaune sat frozen, Crocea Mors forgotten in his hands, his voice a bewildered mutter.
"…What the hell just happened?"