Chapter 1: Betrothed?
Location: Schnee Manor, Noble District
Continent: Solitas — Kingdom of Atlas
The corridors of Schnee Manor carried a distinct brand of silence in the mornings. It was the quiet of polished marble, soaring ceilings, and painted portraits watching from gilded frames—a grandeur so heavily practiced it felt entirely hollow. But today, that stillness was broken.
A pair of small, white boots clattered down the hallway at a pace entirely unbecoming of an heiress.
Weiss Schnee, eight years old and utterly unbothered by matters of dignity, rounded the corner toward the front foyer. Her blue eyes sparkled with a brightness that countless etiquette lessons had failed to extinguish. Her crisp white dress and matching coat, trimmed with pale blue at the cuffs and collar, rustled as she moved, her silver ponytail bouncing with every step.
They're coming today.
The simple thought made her chest feel like a shaken snow globe. Khanna. Sarai. And...
She stopped herself before the third name could form, pressing her lips into a neat, determined line.
And the others, she corrected primly.
Outside, the manor's front gardens were bathed in winter light, thin and pale as spun glass. Weiss shoved against the heavy oak doors—a task requiring far more muscle than she would ever admit to—and stepped out onto the stone landing. The crisp air immediately kissed her cheeks.
She wasn't alone for long.
"My, my. In quite the hurry, aren't we?"
The voice belonged to a man whose silver hair and gentle bearing made him look as though he had been carved from the very mountain supporting the estate. Nicolas Schnee II stood near the top of the steps, hands clasped behind his back, a warm smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. He was the quintessential storybook grandfather—the kind who smelled faintly of pine and old books and never once made a child feel small.
"Grandfather!" Weiss lit up instantly. "Are they here yet?"
A low, genuinely delighted laugh rumbled from his chest. Before she could protest, his hands scooped her up by the waist, sweeping her through the air in a slow arc that drew a bright peal of laughter from her lips before he set her gently back down.
"Not yet, little one," he said, smoothing the collar of her coat with the careful tenderness of a man who knew which moments deserved to be savored. "But they are nearly here. You must be excited."
"Extremely," Weiss replied in a tone she firmly believed showed absolute restraint.
From the doorway behind them came the quiet click of measured, precise boots—a sound belonging to only one person in this household.
Winter Schnee descended the front steps with the unhurried grace of someone who had long since made peace with the world's fast pace. At seventeen, she wore the Atlas Academy uniform like a second skin: a dark blue jacket over a matching vest, a crisp undershirt, a navy skirt, grey knee-high stockings, and polished black boots. Her silver hair was swept back neatly, and she carried herself like a fine blade—composed, deliberate, and just a little sharp at the edges.
The look she fixed on her younger sister carried a heavy, deeply fond exasperation.
"You really are excited," Winter noted. It wasn't quite a question.
"Of course I am." Weiss drew herself up to her full, modest height. "Khanna and Sarai are my best friends, Winter."
"Mm." The older girl's mouth curved slightly at one corner. "And what of Sarai's brother? Odyn, wasn't it? Does he factor into this eagerness at all?"
The effect was instantaneous and deeply satisfying to Winter.
Weiss's hands immediately locked together in front of her, fingers twisting in a nervous knot she didn't realize she was making. She stared down at the stones, the tips of her ears turning pink for reasons entirely unrelated to the freezing air.
"I... h-him too, I suppose," she mumbled. "Odyn is... nice."
Grandfather Nicolas cleared his throat softly—a sound containing a universe of amusement kept strictly under control.
"Come now, Winter. Let your sister be." He glanced sidelong at his eldest granddaughter. "That young elf is a fine boy. I am glad Weiss has such a friend."
Winter tilted her head in quiet submission. "As you wish, Grandfather."
He turned back to her, a more businesslike edge entering his demeanor. "Incidentally—are your mother and father nearby? I would prefer them present when our guests arrive."
Winter gave a small, respectful nod. "Yes. I can fetch them if you wish."
"No need." He smiled gently. "We shall go together."
The trio had barely retreated into the foyer when the crunch of wheels on the gravel drive echoed outside—the dignified rumble of a carriage coming to a halt before Schnee Manor.
Weiss bolted for the door.
Four adults descended first, commanding immediate attention even by the exacting standards of Atlas's elite district.
The first was a man whose presence naturally filled the space around him. Berethon Albanar, Chieftain of the Albanar Tribe and lord of their district within Atlas, had dark skin, deep cerulean-blue hair cropped close with a matching neat beard, and striking eyes that burned a vivid, molten orange. His pointed, slightly elongated ears marked his dark elven heritage proudly. Dressed in noble fashion—a dark blue buttoned coat under a crimson cape edged in white, crossed by a golden sash from shoulder to hip—he looked equally at home in a war council or a diplomatic gala. A slender golden tiara rested on his brow. Everything about him radiated power, tempered by a profound, gentle kindness.
Beside him stood his wife, Hyatan Albanar. If her husband commanded a room, she adorned it. With tanned skin, pointed ears, and the same burning orange eyes, her long lavender hair swept elegantly over the collar of a midnight-black robe-coat. Finished with a purple shirt, a crimson sash, a skirt falling just below the knees, purple stockings, black heels, and a violet cape trimmed in gold with a matching silver tiara, she moved with the quiet surety of someone who never needed to raise her voice.
A half-step behind them stood a woman whose silver plate armor introduced her before any words could. A blue cape, purple hair streaked with black, and sharp, appraising orange eyes accompanied the sword at her hip—a blade that looked seasoned by a thousand battles. This was Lylah, Hyatan's sister, whom Atlas generals spoke of with cautious reverence: the Silver Lioness.
The fourth figure was, by comparison, bafflingly informal. A cream-skinned man with perpetually disheveled black hair, tired red eyes, a short shadow of stubble, and a long red scarf worn with studied carelessness. His white jacket was unremarkable, his torn crimson cape worse for wear, and his grey trousers purely utilitarian. A small black necklace was his only ornament. This was Qrow Branwen, a Huntsman from Vale, and what he was doing stepping out of an Atlesian noble carriage remained a mystery.
Behind the adults trailed three children.
Weiss cleared the steps before her brain could even register the movement.
"Khanna! Sarai!"
The older girl who turned to meet her was around nine, boasting dark skin, pointed ears, and an innate self-possession rare for her age. Khanna wore her purple-black hair loose, greeting Weiss with the easy smile of someone deeply comfortable in her own skin.
"Weiss," she said warmly, opening her arms. "Good to see you."
The smaller girl beside her—barely six, with the same dark complexion and wide, curious eyes—was Sarai Albanar, who delivered a hug heavy on enthusiasm and light on technique.
Weiss returned it fiercely. Then she pulled back, scanning the group behind them, her face falling slightly.
"Where is Odyn?"
Sarai tilted her head. "Oh—Nii-san had to stay with Mama and Papa for a little bit. Something about... discussions? With your grandfather and parents?" She frowned. "I didn't quite understand it."
A small cloud crossed Weiss's features. "I see."
Khanna's knowing smile returned, warmer this time. "He'll be with us soon, Weiss. Come on—let's leave the grown-ups to their boring business."
She grabbed Weiss by the wrist, and letting out a final glance back, Weiss allowed herself to be pulled away into a run.
Before she left, however, her eyes locked with Odyn's.
Standing near his father, the ten-year-old boy shared his family's dark complexion, pointed ears, and burning orange eyes. Though slight for his age, his straight-backed, attentive posture suggested he was absorbing every detail of his surroundings.
When Weiss looked back, he caught her gaze and offered a small wave. She returned it with a quick smile before Khanna dragged her around the corner and out of sight.
Odyn watched the empty corridor for a moment.
Then Qrow Branwen ambled over, casually dropping a heavy hand onto the boy's shoulder.
"You'll catch up with them soon enough, squirt."
Odyn smiled up at him, an expression of genuine, unguarded gratitude crossing his face. "Thanks, Un—" He cut himself off, correcting swiftly. "Mr. Branwen."
Qrow's eyes swept the courtyard with practiced, casual vigilance. He leaned down slightly.
"Easy," he muttered softly. "Can't have the wrong ears catching that slip. You know how it looks."
Odyn let out a sheepish breath, the tips of his ears flushing red. "Right. Sorry. I'll be more careful."
"Good man." Qrow straightened, the affectionate hand shifting to a relaxed stance.
The main group moved toward the manor's entrance.
Nicolas Schnee welcomed them in the foyer with the practiced grace of a seasoned patriarch.
"Lord Berethon. Duchess Hyatan. Your presence honors us." He gestured down the hall. "If you will follow us, we can speak privately in the study."
"The honor is ours, Sir Nicolas," Berethon replied warmly.
The procession moved deeper into the estate—Nicolas leading, Willow at his side, Winter trailing close behind, and their guests falling into step. Odyn stayed tucked near Qrow and Lylah, flanked by guardians ready to intervene if anything went awry.
While he only had a vague idea why he'd been asked to stay behind with the adults, he wasn't an unobservant child. He could guess the general shape of the conversations to come, even if the specifics eluded him. He walked quietly, keeping his ears open.
What he didn't miss, however, was the dark, brooding look plastered across Jacques Schnee's face.
Jacques Schnee lingered near the study doorway as the procession arrived. When his gaze found Odyn, it wasn't the look of a man greeting a guest's child—it was something colder, steeped in an old, bitter prejudice he made no effort to conceal.
Lylah caught it instantly. Her expression remained completely unreadable, but her shoulders settled with the lethal stillness of a blade sliding back into its scabbard: ready.
The Albanar party and their companions took their seats on one side of the study's twin facing couches, while the Schnees settled opposite them. Before Nicolas could open his mouth to welcome them, Lylah spoke.
"Before we begin, Sir Nicolas—there is something that must be addressed." Her gaze pinned Jacques with the absolute precision of a drawn arrow. "Specifically, concerning your son-in-law."
Nicolas exhaled a slow, weary breath through his nose. He had hoped, perhaps naively, that Jacques had learned his lesson from the near-disaster of their last negotiation with a non-human entity. He typically barred the man from these discussions, making an exception today only because family was involved. He was already regretting it.
"Of course," Nicolas said evenly. "Go ahead."
Lylah rose. Though not a particularly tall woman, standing gave her an overwhelming, commanding presence. She looked at Jacques the way an executioner looks at a condemned man who hasn't quite realized his time is up.
"Is there a problem, Mr. Jacques?"
Jacques's jaw tightened. He cast a sharp, deliberate glare toward Odyn.
"Nothing of great consequence," Jacques sneered. "I merely question the necessity of having that child present during adult negotiations. A foundling with no—"
He didn't get to finish.
The sound of steel clearing a leather scabbard is short, sharp, and entirely final. Lylah's blade flashed free in the blink of an eye, its razor-sharp edge hovering mere centimeters from Jacques Schnee's throat. The study instantly fell into a heavy, suffocating silence.
"I would strongly recommend," Lylah said, her voice dropping to an absolute, terrifying quiet, "that you choose your next words with extreme care. The child you just insulted is my nephew. He is also the eldest son of Lord Berethon and Duchess Hyatan—our hosts' honored guests and your betters in every measurable way. If you open your mouth again before you remember that fact..."
The blade didn't tremble by a fraction of a millimeter. "I may not be so patient next time."
Beads of sweat broke out across Jacques's forehead. Behind Lylah, conjured either by her sheer aura or the razor-sharp focus of a warrior forged in blood, the imposing silhouette of a silver lioness seemed to manifest over her shoulders.
Jacques said nothing. He couldn't.
Nicolas cleared his throat, breaking the spell.
"Jacques." His voice was level—the kind of level that belongs to ancient mountains, carrying an unmovable, crushing weight. "I believe your office requires your attention. I will have someone fetch you if your presence becomes necessary."
"I—"
"Jacques." The word fell again, softer, but infinitely heavier. "We are finished here."
A long, agonizing pause stretched through the room. Finally, Jacques retreated with whatever stiff, bruised dignity he could salvage, turning sharply and storming out.
The heavy oak door clicked shut behind him.
Willow Schnee closed her eyes for a brief second, then inclined her head respectfully toward their guests. Her silver hair slipped over one shoulder, her pale hands folded neatly in her lap. She possessed the quiet beauty of someone who had weathered deep storms—a beauty that invited understanding rather than superficial praise.
"I apologize," she said softly, her voice carrying a world of quiet exhaustion. "For his conduct. He was not always..." She trailed off, finding no safe way to finish the sentence without touching old griefs. "He was not always this way."
Hyatan's expression softened instantly. She turned to her sister.
"Lylah."
The blade vanished back into its scabbard with a crisp click. Lylah resumed her seat, her composure entirely restored, save for a faint flush of color dusting her cheeks.
"Ahem. Of course, Your Grace."
Hyatan turned back to Willow, her smile returning with genuine warmth. "You need not shoulder the blame for another man's failures, Lady Willow. We hold no fault with you." She paused gently. "Thank you for speaking up, nonetheless."
Willow exhaled, a visible knot of tension uncoiling in her chest.
Berethon leaned forward then, lacing his gloved fingers together as the atmosphere pivoted back to matters of state and commerce.
"Sir Nicolas. Let us return to the matter we discussed previously—the alliance that stands to benefit both of our communities."
Nicolas straightened up, his professional instincts kicking in. "Indeed. You suggested it could offer immense mutual advantages to the Albanar district and the Schnee Dust Company. I am eager to hear the specifics."
"It rests on two pillars," Berethon explained. "First: technology. Innovations entirely unseen in Atlas, or anywhere else on Remnant. I cannot reveal the full scope of our engineering today, but we can offer you foundational designs and a live demonstration in due time."
"And the second," Hyatan added smoothly, "is knowledge. Specifically, trade routes and foreign markets entirely unknown to Atlas. If we formalize this partnership, our people can ensure your dust reaches buyers across the globe—faster, farther, and in greater volumes than your current infrastructure allows."
Nicolas fell silent, mulling over the proposition with the slow, meticulous care of a man who rarely made a miscalculation. "You mentioned earlier that if Faunus communities gained fair access to dust crystals, advanced weaponry, and machinery at equitable prices, your district's prosperity would soar."
"Substantially," Berethon confirmed. "And rapidly."
"I see." Nicolas studied the chieftain with piercing focus. "Then I assume such a partnership comes with a condition."
Berethon nodded.
Odyn, sitting quietly off to the side, felt a subtle shift in the room's gravity—an intangible weight that made him sit a little taller without fully understanding why.
"Just one," Berethon said. "It touches on business, certainly, but far more importantly: friendship. And the future happiness of our children."
He glanced toward his son, then back to Nicolas.
"Your granddaughter Weiss and our youngest daughter Sarai have forged a genuine bond," Berethon continued. "That, I am certain, has not escaped your notice."
Nicolas smiled—a real, crinkling smile that reached his eyes. "It is one of the greatest joys of my later years. To see a Schnee and an Albanar playing side by side... it gives an old man a great deal of hope."
"Our Sarai," Hyatan said softly, "has told us on more than one occasion that she wishes Weiss were her sister in truth."
A peaceful quiet settled over the study.
Winter, listening closely from her seat with her hands neatly folded and her expression carefully masked, couldn't quite stop a small, fond smile from tugging at her lips. Willow's eyes grew misty with warmth.
"That," Willow murmured, "is a truly lovely thought."
Berethon and Hyatan exchanged a quiet, knowing look.
"Then perhaps," Berethon proposed, "we should give those girls the chance to formally become what they already feel they are."
The Schnees exchanged a series of questioning glances.
Willow's brow furrowed slightly in delicate confusion. "Forgive me—I hope I am not being dense, but... what precisely are you implying?"
"A betrothal," Hyatan answered simply.
Winter tilted her head, her analytical mind immediately evaluating the political and personal weight of the word. "What manner of proposal, Milady?"
It was Nicolas who answered, his voice devoid of shock, carrying instead the tone of a man who had pieced together the puzzle just a second before anyone else. "I assume your eldest son is central to this proposition."
Berethon looked at Odyn. Odyn met his father's gaze steadily.
"And your granddaughter Weiss," Hyatan added.
The silence hung in the air for a heartbeat before Willow took a sharp, surprised breath—the reaction of someone arriving at a destination they weren't entirely sure they were ready for.
"Surely you cannot mean—"
"A betrothal," Berethon repeated, firm yet gentle, "between Odyn and Weiss, to be enacted only when they come of age. Absolutely nothing binding before then—no pressure, and complete freedom of choice for both of them when the time arrives. Only if both families consent, and only if the children themselves are willing." He turned his gaze to his son. "Odyn. What do your thoughts say?"
The boy sat quietly. He wasn't hesitant, exactly—he was simply reflecting deeply. His burning orange eyes shifted from his father, to Nicolas across the room, and finally drifted down to a pattern in the rug where he seemed to weigh his words carefully.
Then, he looked up, meeting every adult eye in the room.
"If it makes my sister happy," Odyn began steadily, "then it's a good thing to start with." A brief pause, a faint, boyish flush creeping up his ears despite his best efforts to suppress it. "And... I wouldn't mind being close to Weiss in that way. I... I think I'd actually like it very much."
Nicolas Schnee stared at the boy across from him for a long, quiet moment. Then, a rich, booming laugh escaped his chest—not the rehearsed chuckle of a diplomat, but genuine, unrestrained joy.
"Ha! You've done it again, old friend! You always know how to keep an old man on his toes." Nicolas leaned forward and clapped Berethon firmly on the shoulder. "You have yourself a deal."
Willow offered a soft, slightly dazed smile. Winter exhaled quietly through her nose, the corner of her mouth twitching upward in the expression of someone fighting a losing battle against amusement.
Oum above, Winter thought wryly. How on earth is Weiss ever going to process this?
Berethon turned to his son, his expression swelling with unmasked pride.
"Thank you for your honesty, Odyn. You may go find your sisters—and Weiss."
Odyn was out of his seat before the sentence finished echoing. He executed a swift, earnest, and thoroughly rushed bow toward the room, rattling off his gratitude in a single breath.
"Thank you, Father, Mother, Aunt Lylah, Mr. Branwen... and everyone. Thank you!"
And with that, he bolted, his quick footsteps already fading down the marble corridor.
The adults sat in the quiet wake of his exit for a moment. Qrow Branwen's expression remained neutral, but there was a distinct, soft glint of amusement in his tired red eyes.
Nicolas shifted his gaze toward Winter. "Make sure he finds his way to the girls safely. We don't want him getting lost in this labyrinth." He added with a pointed look: "Or worse, running into that fool of a father of yours."
Winter stood up, smoothly flattening the front of her skirt.
"Of course, Grandfather." She paused at the heavy doorway, looking back once. "I will see to it."
As the door clicked shut behind her, Nicolas turned back to Berethon.
"Now then. Let us discuss the logistics of this partnership..."
One hour later.
The garden gazebo in winter was not, strictly speaking, the warmest place to enjoy a cup of tea. But Weiss Schnee sat inside it with the poise of someone raised to believe that polished marble floors were entirely suitable for sitting and glacial temperatures were simply conducive to polite conversation.
The three girls had gathered around the wrought-iron table in the center of the pavilion—Weiss, Khanna, and Sarai—cradling their warm porcelain cups while the skeletal, dormant rose vines of the manor's garden rattled softly in the biting breeze. The white pavilion overlooked the sprawling, snow-dusted expanse of the courtyard grounds.
Weiss, however, wasn't strictly looking toward the manor.
She was simply... aware of it.
"Thinking about my cousin again?"
Khanna's voice was serene. Her face was the very picture of innocent detachment, which only made it more incriminating.
Weiss snapped back to reality, a wave of warm, flustered heat rushing up her neck and flooding her cheeks.
"I am not," she protested, sounding entirely like someone who was very definitely lying. "I was simply... noting that it has been quite a long time, that is all. Normally when Odyn visits, he accompanies you directly. I was merely observing a deviation in the routine."
Khanna's expression didn't change a fraction. It didn't need to.
"Of course," she murmured, gracefully lifting her teacup.
Sarai, who had been following the exchange with the intense, unblinking focus of a six-year-old trying to decode a puzzle just out of reach, set her own cup down with a soft clink.
"Are you sad because you like Nii-san, Weiss?"
The silence that blanketed the gazebo was immediate and complete.
Khanna choked on her tea in the most dignified way possible—which was not very dignified at all. She slammed a hand over her mouth, her shoulders vibrating with suppressed laughter.
Weiss's face turned an astonishing shade of crimson.
"What?! No—I—that is entirely ridiculous—Sarai, I do not—I mean, I do like him, obviously, because he is a friend, and friends like each other, that is how friendship works—I just think he is very nice and that is completely different from—no!"
Sarai tilted her head, unimpressed by the denial. "Then why is your face so red? Is it because of Nii-san?"
Weiss opened her mouth. Closed it. Then stared intensely at the grain of the iron table.
Khanna finally recovered enough to reach over and gently pat her younger cousin's head.
"Sarai," she said, composing herself with visible effort, her eyes still sparkling with mirth, "I think we've teased Weiss quite enough for one afternoon. Perhaps we'll get our answer to your question a little later."
Sarai accepted this logic with a solemn, philosophical nod. Later. She filed it away, just like Khanna said.
Weiss took a long, exaggeratedly steady sip of her tea and deliberately looked anywhere else in the universe.
Then—from behind the pavilion, carried by the unmistakable energy of someone searching for people he actually wanted to see—a voice rang out across the frozen garden.
"Hey! Sorry it took so long!"
Weiss spun around so fast she nearly slung her tea over the rim.
Odyn came jogging down the path, hands raised in a gesture of pre-emptive surrender. A bright, sheepish grin stretched across his face, radiating equal parts embarrassment and relief. He looked thoroughly rushed, slightly wind-blown, and his orange eyes shone with excitement.
Behind him, pacing with much more measured and deliberate steps, came Winter.
"O-Odyn," Weiss managed, her voice hitching slightly. She set her cup down with agonizing precision, smoothed the front of her coat, and patted her silver ponytail into place—all in the span of roughly two seconds. She fixed him with the severe expression of someone delivering a mild reprimand. "You certainly took your sweet time."
"I know, I'm sorry!" He stopped a few paces away, his hands still raised. "Please don't be mad, Weiss—I really couldn't leave any sooner, I swear."
She stared at him, desperately trying to maintain her mask of righteous annoyance.
It crumbled within seconds.
A smile broke through.
"Fine," she declared, her eyes suddenly sparkling with mischief. "But you have to catch me first. You're it!"
She bolted backward out of the gazebo, a bright laugh tumbling over the winter air.
"Hey—that's not fair, Weiss—!"
"You said you were sorry, so you owe me a head start! Come and get me!"
She spun around and took off sprinting across the grounds, her laughter echoing against the stone walls. After a single, helpless beat of hesitation, Odyn took off after her.
"Get back here!"
Khanna watched them vanish around the corner, a fond smile playing on her lips. She turned to look at Sarai, who was watching the chase with wide, enchanted eyes.
Winter finally reached the gazebo table. She surveyed the empty path where the two children had just disappeared, wearing an expression of deep, sisterly resignation.
"I leave him alone for thirty seconds."
"Sit down, older sister Schnee," Khanna invited cheerfully, pulling out a vacant chair. "There's still plenty of tea."
They raced the length of the manor grounds and back, looping around the wings and dashing across the front courtyard. Odyn had the advantage of longer strides, but Weiss had sheer, unadulterated willpower, and determination possessed a momentum all its own. When they finally ground to a halt, it was because their legs had held an unannounced vote and declared the matter officially settled.
They collapsed onto a small hill of frosted grass just off the main path—though it was more of a graceful, deliberate descent than an actual collapse, because Weiss naturally had her standards. Side by side, they lay looking up at the pale winter sky, letting their breathing steady in the freezing air.
After a long moment, Odyn sat up.
His expression had shifted. It was still him—still wonderfully warm—but quieter now, like a rushing stream that had smoothed out before rounding a sudden bend.
"I never thought you'd actually outrun me," he murmured. "First time for everything, I suppose."
Weiss smiled up at the clouds. "First time for everything."
A quiet stretched between them, long enough that Weiss turned her head to look at him properly.
"Odyn?"
He didn't answer right away. He was staring out into the distance, or perhaps at nothing at all.
"We're best friends," he said at last. "Right?"
She sat up, sensing the weight in his voice that demanded nothing less.
"Of course we are." She pinned him with a steady, searching look. "What on earth are you talking about?"
"I was just thinking." He plucked idly at a blade of frost-edged grass. "If something happened... and we couldn't see each other for a long time, would you still remember me? As your friend?"
Weiss stared at him, incredulous. "That is a ridiculous question."
"Is it?"
"You're the only person on Remnant who calls me princess." She stated it as an immutable fact, as if it were the ultimate proof against any doubt. "I could never forget that. I could never forget you."
Something inside his expression unlocked—settling deeply, like a key turning in a well-oiled lock.
"...Right." He looked down at the grass, then asked quietly: "Can I ask you something else?"
"You're already asking me things," she pointed out, a hint of a smile returning. "But yes. Go ahead."
He turned his orange eyes back to her. "Would you want to stay together? When we grow up?"
The question was so disarmingly simple that it took her a moment to process the enormous gravity behind it.
Then she smiled—small at first, before blooming into something radiant.
"Of course I would."
He extended his hand, pinky finger hooked outward, carrying all the solemn ceremony of a sacred contract.
"Promise?"
Without a single second of hesitation, she linked her small finger with his.
"Promise."
They held the gesture for a beat longer than necessary. Then, dropping her hand, Weiss looked at him with a sudden, sharper concern.
"Where is this coming from, Odyn? You're starting to worry me."
He dropped his gaze to the dirt and let out a sigh—a sound far too heavy and tired for a ten-year-old boy.
"I've been hearing whispers. About my family." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "We might... have to leave soon."
The words landed in Weiss's chest like a sharp piece of ice dropped into still water.
"What? Why?"
He turned to look at her, his look tender and measured. "I think your father doesn't like us, Weiss. I don't know what we did, but I think... I think he might genuinely hate us."
"He doesn't hate you," she countered instantly, her voice rushing to fix it. "He's just—he's always stressed about company business. It's not about you."
"What if it is, though?" The question was soft, devoid of accusation, driven entirely by a child trying to make sense of a harsh world. "What would you do? If he told you that you weren't allowed to see us anymore?"
Weiss went completely still.
Then, a familiar, stubborn flame ignited deep within her blue eyes—the exact same fire that flared whenever someone told her she couldn't achieve something, or when she witnessed an injustice that expected to pass unchallenged.
"I would tell him he was wrong," she answered, her voice quiet, but absolute. "I would tell him that whatever his reasons are, they're wrong. That you're my friend, and nothing he says changes that."
Odyn stared at her for a long, quiet moment.
Then a genuine smile broke across his face, lighting up his orange eyes.
"Thank you," he whispered. "That makes it a lot easier."
She tilted her head, her expression softening. "Odyn?"
"Yeah?"
"If you do move away..." She looked down at her hands, fingers nervously twisting together. "Promise you won't forget me?"
"It's a deal," he replied without a single second of doubt. "And I'll write. As often as I possibly can."
She looked up at him. He stood slightly taller than her now—just enough that when she rose to her feet, she had to stand on the very tips of her toes to reach.
So she did.
Closing her eyes, she pressed her lips briefly, lightly, to his cheek.
When she dropped back down to her heels, she looked away instantly, a single finger pressed to her lips—this is our secret, her posture screamed—while a deep, unmaskable flush spread across her cheeks that the freezing wind couldn't possibly excuse.
Odyn didn't say a word. He was profoundly grateful that his own dark complexion made his matching blush considerably harder to spot.
As a matter of mutual survival and unspoken gentlemanly pact, he decided not to draw attention to either of their burning faces.
They sat like that for a fleeting moment—two children holding a fragile, beautiful secret, wrapped in the strange, warm, slightly terrifying anticipation of a future they couldn't yet name.
Then Sarai's bright voice drifted across the garden, followed closely by Khanna's calls, and Winter's quieter approach trailing behind them. The afternoon reclaimed the world.
Sarai barrelled into her brother with the unstoppable force of a six-year-old who had spent far too long hunting for a lost treasure.
"Nii-san! Weiss! There you are!"
Odyn caught her automatically, steadying her with both hands as a laugh escaped him. "Were you looking for us, squirt?"
"Yes!" She looked back and forth between them with an expression of profound betrayal. "You just ran away! We looked everywhere!"
"I'm sorry." His expression melted into pure affection as he ruffled her hair. "I didn't mean to worry you."
Weiss watched them, a profound, aching tenderness blooming in her chest.
From across the manicured lawns, Hyatan Albanar's clear, carrying voice rang out.
"Odyn! Sarai! Khanna—it's time to go."
Khanna turned back toward the gazebo. "Coming!"
She glanced at Weiss, her expression gentle. "We have to leave now."
Weiss's smile faltered, her heart sinking. "...I know."
"Don't make that face. We'll see each other again—I'm certain of it." Khanna reached down and took Sarai's small hand. "Say goodbye to Weiss."
Sarai waved with her entire arm. "Bye-bye, Weiss!"
"Goodbye, Sarai."
The two girls turned and walked ahead. Odyn fell into step behind them, but stopped mid-stride as a small tug caught the hem of his coat.
He looked back.
Weiss's hand was curled around the fabric, not quite gripping it tightly. She wasn't looking him in the eye; her bangs had fallen forward, casting a deep shadow over her troubled blue eyes.
"Weiss?" he asked softly.
"I know you have to go." Her voice was impossibly small. "I just..." Her shoulders trembled once. "I'm scared, Odyn. What if it takes a long time? What if I never see you again? I couldn't—" She choked off, swallowing hard. "I couldn't bear that."
He turned back fully.
Without a second thought, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her.
She froze in sheer surprise, caught off guard by a warmth she hadn't realized she was shivering without. Then, she let out a long, shuddering breath, the tension melting out of her as she wrapped her arms around him in return.
"That won't happen," he promised quietly, his voice muffled softly against the top of her silver hair. "I don't know when it'll be, but we will see each other again. I give you my word."
"Promise?" she whispered—not out of doubt, but out of a deep need for anchorage.
"Promise."
They held onto each other for one more heartbeat before slowly, reluctantly parting.
He looked down into her face, making sure her bright blue eyes met his before he finally took a step back.
"Until next time, princess."
With a final wave, he turned and walked toward his waiting family.
Weiss stood frozen on the stone path, watching him recede into the distance. When he was completely out of sight, she slowly looked down at her open palm—still imagining the lingering warmth of his arms.
Winter's shadow fell gently over her.
"Miss him already?"
"...Yes," Weiss admitted, her voice barely a breath.
"I thought as much." Winter turned her gaze toward the front gates, where the Albanar carriage was rolling out of sight. "He really does mean a great deal to you, doesn't he?"
Weiss looked up at her older sister—defiant, proud, and completely unable to hide the vulnerability costing her so much to expose.
"Of course he does. He's my best friend."
Winter offered a soft, melancholic smile.
"Right," she murmured gently. "Of course."
She extended her hand. Weiss took it, and together, the two sisters walked back into the silent halls of Schnee Manor.
What none of the Schnees could possibly know—what a young Weiss could never have suspected as she stood in the winter garden letting the last traces of warmth fade from her palm—was that this visit from the Albanar family would be the very last time she and Odyn would lay eyes on each other for many long, agonizing years.
A terrible tragedy was already quietly making its way toward the Schnee household, moving as silently as falling snow and with far less mercy. What would follow would soon be spoken of only in haunted, hushed whispers—the catastrophic fracture of the Schnee family's fortune, and the suffocating shadow it cast over everyone caught in its wake.
To Be Continued
Next Time: Chapter 2 — Tragedy and Separation; Death in the Family.
Hey guys! I hope you all enjoyed this 1st chapter of the AU version of Flame and Crimson. I plan to make 2 other AU versions: One with Yang as the main girl, and one with Blake as the main love interest. The overall plots of the stories will be similar, just with some differences between them such as character pairings and events that take the dark elves that appear in this story will be the same. However, there may or may not be any main characters that are saiyans this time: we'll see lol. Here's a list of other characters who will be appearing in the story this time around: [question marks beside the character's name are ones that are maybe or maybe nots]
Roy Albanar
Khanna Branwen
Hailfire Caldern
Baron Caldern
Flare Kitsune
Note Nightcrow?
Beat Blackwing?
Giblet Zenkai?
Shallot Zenkai?
Jinjer Reinhardt?
Scarlett Reinhardt?
Yang Xiaolong
Ruby Rose
Blake Belladonna
Sybyrh Arkham
Tarro Koizumi?
Daikon Koizumi?
Sarai Albanar
Those are the possible main characters, now for potential pairings:
Roy x Ruby
Baron x Yang
Giblet x Flare?
Shallot x Blake?
Note x Yatsuhashi?
Beat x Velvet?
Jinjer x Sun?
Scarlett x Mercury?
Tarro x Sybyrh?
Daikon x Coco/Velvet?
Sarai x Neptune/Jaune/Sun?
The main pairing is obviously Odyn x Weiss this time around, so that won't change. Sarai is the outlier because i'm planning on taking her character in a different direction this time. I guess before we go I can throw one more poll out there for you guys:
Who should Sarai fall for this time?
A. Oscar Pine (Volume 5)
B. Cardin Winchester (Reformed/ Good Guy)
C. Yatsuhashi Daichi
D. Neptune Vasilias
E. Mercury Black(Hero Route)
F. Tarro Koizumi?
G. Daikon Koizumi?
H. Giblet Zenkai/ Shallot Zenkai?
I. Other male Character (write in suggestion)
Leave a comment or review based on how the story is so far. Maybe what I should change from the other story this time around? Make sure to vote as I am curious as to what you guys think.
Oh and here are the opening and ending themes for this story:
Opening theme:
Opening theme: Alive by ReoNa
Visuals: Just use your own imagination and replace the characters with the ones in this story. Or.. Leave a comment on what you can think of for the opening visuals that fit with the tone of this story.
Ending:
Ending theme: Reincarnated as a Sword ED 1
Visuals: Use your imagination or leave a comment detailing what visuals could fit with this story.
Anyways that's all for now!
Next Time: Chapter 2: Tragedy and Separation; Death in the Family.