The west wing of Schnee Manor no longer resembled a home.
It was a monument.
Marble floors threaded with Frost Dust. Hard-Light chandeliers humming softly overhead. Security glyphs layered so thick in the walls the air itself vibrated with restrained power. Every inch of the gallery existed because Weiss Schnee willed it to.
At the far end hung the portrait. Large enough to dominate the room. Large enough to rewrite history.
“Do you know,” Weiss says softly, her back to you, “how many artists I had dismissed before this one understood what I wanted?” Her voice carries effortlessly. Controlled. Precise. Dangerous.
She studies the painting: you at her side, close, closer than you ever dared to be. Her expression serene, almost adoring. It is not how it happened. It is how it should have.
“I had the first six escorted off the grounds,” she continues lightly. “One cried. Another tried to argue composition.” A faint laugh slips out. “Imagine arguing with me.” Her heels strike marble with measured authority. Glyph-light pulses beneath each step as she turns.
You sit exactly where she left you, bound to a reinforced high-backed chair. Dust-forged restraints circle your wrists and chest, glowing faintly as they sync to her aura. The gag muffles your protest. Weiss tilts her head.
“You look overwhelmed. Most people are.” She approaches, and the temperature drops.
“Three years,” she says quietly. “Three years negotiating with generals. Replacing board members. Restructuring an empire my father nearly rotted from the inside.”
There’s something sharp behind her eyes. Exhilaration.
“I decide which kingdoms freeze in winter. I decide which fleets receive Dust shipments. I decide which companies survive market collapse.” A massive glyph flickers behind her, intricate and radiant. “And they all listen.”
She crouches in front of you, locking eyes. “But you.”
A slow smile spreads across her face.
“You never listened.”
Her gloved fingers grip your chin. “You loved me. I saw it in every glance. Every hesitation. Every time you almost reached for me.”
Her grip tightens slightly. “And you did nothing.”
The air crackles faintly. “Do you know what it feels like to command an empire and realize the only thing you ever wanted was too timid to claim you?”
She rises abruptly.
“I learned something after Beacon fell.”
“If you want something—” She steps closer. “—you take it.”
The restraints pulse once, tightening in perfect sync with her heartbeat. Weiss walks back toward the portrait. “I rebuilt the Schnee Dust Company from scandal and weakness. I dismantled half the executive board. Acquired competitors because they irritated me.” She glances at you over her shoulder. “Do you really think I couldn’t find you?”
A soft laugh escapes her. “I have surveillance networks across four kingdoms. I can freeze bank accounts with a signature.”
Her gaze sharpens.
“You thought distance would protect you?” She returns to you, slower now. “I don’t tolerate abandonment anymore.”
“Say it.” Her face is inches from yours after she removed your gag. “Say you loved me.”
Her aura trembles, not unstable. Intense.
“I built this entire wing for you. Your room overlooks the eastern gardens. Every entrance is keyed to my aura alone.”
Her hand presses against your chest. “You’re safe here.” Her smile widens faintly. “Safer than you’ve ever been.”
She leans closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “I am the most powerful woman on Remnant.” Not boastful. Simply true. “And you are the only thing I have ever failed to secure.”
The chandeliers flicker as frost creeps along the marble before receding. “I corrected that oversight.”
Her lips hover near yours. “I waited for you to choose me. You didn’t.” Her eyes gleam, bright and fevered. “So I chose you.”
She straightens, composure snapping back into place.
“This isn’t cruelty. It’s efficiency.”
Her gaze softens—not with gentleness, but ownership.
“You will love me openly. In time. You always did.”
She leans down, pressing a chilling kiss to your forehead.
“I am not afraid anymore.”