Haunting Past

So this is what I got when I thought of either Ruby or Weiss having a nightmare, and the other comforting them. So Weiss had a nightmare about her father, and Ruby comforts her.
I found this great fanfiction on tumblr made by user blazeicee, check that persons tumblr here http://blazeicee.tumblr.com/. All credit goes to that person. 
check out the original post here. http://blazeicee.tumblr.com/post/56947218647/haunting-past 
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So this is what I got when I thought of either Ruby or Weiss having a nightmare, and the other comforting them. So Weiss had a nightmare about her father, and Ruby comforts her. 
Anxiety gnaws at you as you get ready for bed, a feeling that you know all too well. Normally it only happens on days where something goes horribly wrong, but you guess that the stress from the day is getting to you, making you anxious and jumpy. 
You dry your hands with a towel and drop your toothbrush into a cup next to the faucet of the sink. Flicking the light off in the bathroom, you pad down the hall in bare feet and a night gown to your room. 
You crawl into bed, reaching over and shutting off your lamp, plunging the room into darkness. Rolling over onto your side, you pull the blankets tight around your shoulders and you curl up, sighing as you sink into the mattress. 
Closing your eyes, you feel yourself drift to sleep, ignoring the anxiety now insistent in the back of your head. 
Anxiety gnaws at you as you get ready for bed, a feeling that you know all too well. Normally it only happens on days where something goes horribly wrong, but you guess that the stress from the day is getting to you, making you anxious and jumpy. 
You dry your hands with a towel and drop your toothbrush into a cup next to the faucet of the sink. Flicking the light off in the bathroom, you pad down the hall in bare feet and a night gown to your room. 
You crawl into bed, reaching over and shutting off your lamp, plunging the room into darkness. Rolling over onto your side, you pull the blankets tight around your shoulders and you curl up, sighing as you sink into the mattress. 
Closing your eyes, you feel yourself drift to sleep, ignoring the anxiety now insistent in the back of your head. 
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“No, Father, please, no!” 
You cry out as your father, the man you thought loved you, holds Myrtenaster, above his knee, threatening to snap it. You’re lying in a heap against the wall from where he pushed you into it while grabbing your beloved rapier. 
He lowers the blade, and his face contorts into a vicious snarl as he spits out, “Would you care to explain why I find my daughter in the ownership of a sword? I thought I made it explicitly clear that you were not to learn how to wield a blade, that you were to learn how to run my company, not play swordfight all day!” 
You let out a small yelp when Myrtenaster sinks into the wall next to your head. Your father’s face is inches in front of yours, and you stare fearfully at him. You stammer out an apology, a promise to not practice ever again, before his face twists into a sneer. 
“You know what? You can learn how to wield this blade. But only on my terms, and only with the best teachers. I hope you like boarding schools.” 
With that, he backs up, starting to leave the room. You scramble up, keeping your back pressed against the wall as you watch him leave. 
Quick as a flash, he spins around, and your cheek starts to burn white hot as your head snaps to the side. Your father rubs his hand slightly before leaving the room, and you bring a hand up to your cheek, feeling heat radiating from where he slapped you. 
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You jolt awake, gasping as you rush back to reality. You unconsciously rub your cheek where your father had slapped you years ago. You sit up slightly, ignoring the sheets slipping off your body onto the floor, and rub your eyes. You check the clock on your nightstand, the neon letters stating that it was 12:36. 
You groan as you swing your legs off of the bed, shuddering as your feet touch the cold floor. You grab the bottle sitting on your shelf as you walk out of the room to the bathroom, unscrewing the top on it. 
Not even bothering to turn on the light, you hold rim of the water bottle under the faucet, and turn on the cold water. You keep your hand on the faucet handle, and turn it off when water starts to spill onto your hand. You bring the bottle to your mouth, sipping some of the water out of it, before screwing the top back on and returning to your room. 
You set the water bottle on your nightstand, and crawl back into bed, hoping that walking around for a bit would have settled your mind and let you sleep peacefully for the rest of the night. Dragging the blankets back onto the bed, you curl up again, closing your eyes and sinking back into sleep. 
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You pull the headset down around your neck, the cord looping down to a controller set on the coffee table in front of you. You rub your eyes as the time on the dashboard of your Xbox reads almost 2 AM. 
You hadn’t meant to stay up this late, but since Yang and Blake were out on a mission, and the only other person in the house was Weiss, who honestly cared less about you, no one had pulled you away from the Xbox, where you had been sitting for the past three days, furiously trying to complete your newest Final Fantasy game, stopping only to eat, then dashing back downstairs to sit feet from the TV and blare the volume. 
 You were finally on the last chapter of the game, but you had teleported your characters back to the lower world in order to develop their skills more, just to make the final battle and the puzzle leading up to it easier. You had decided at that point that you should probably go to sleep, since you had classes in the morning that were hard enough to stay awake through without not having enough sleep. 
You brush your finger over the power button on the console, hearing the beep that signaled it turned off, and take the headset off your neck, placing it and the controller in front of the TV, which you also turn off. 
You leap up the stairs two at a time into the living room, then you swing around and go through the kitchen to the staircase leading upstairs to the bedrooms, only stopping to turn off the light in the kitchen that you left on so you wouldn’t trip over anything on your way upstairs. 
You tiptoe down the hallway, turning on the light in your room at the end of the hallway, only leaving the door open a crack as you change into pajama pants and a cami, then rush down the hallway to quickly brush your teeth and wash your face. 
As you walk back to your room, you pause slightly, hearing a noise from Weiss’ room. You walk back down to her door, and you hear another noise from inside her room, sounding strangely like a whimper. 
You push the door open slightly, and call out softly, “Weiss? Are you okay?” 
I response you only hear another whimper, so you push the door open the rest of the way, the small amount of light coming out of your room filtering into her room, giving you a faint illumination of Weiss, who is curled tightly in a small ball. 
You approach her bed as she whimpers, and mumbles out, “No, Daddy, please, no…!” 
You place a hand lightly on her shoulder, and she curls up tighter, if it was even possible, in response to the touch. You squeeze slightly, and breathe out, “Weiss, wake up, c’mon, wake up.” 
You shake her shoulder slightly, and she just whimpers again, tensing. You call, louder this time, “Weiss, honey, wake up!” You squeeze her shoulder again, and sit down on the edge of her bed. 
Weiss cries out, and you take matters into your own hands, shaking her shoulder more firmly. She wakes up with a gasp, shouting out, “I didn’t do it!” 
Her head lifts up, frantically searching the room for a threat you couldn’t see, before she sees you. 
Her mouth opens and closes again, and you start to stand up, stammering out an apology for going in her room, before you stop abruptly when she throws herself into you, crying. 
Her arms are latched around your waist, and her face buried into your chest as she cries. Your arms are just raised above her awkwardly, you never have had to deal with a crying girl before. You settle for just rubbing her back slightly as she shudders from sobs. 
When she starts to calm down slightly, you ask quietly, “Weiss, what were you dreaming about?” 
She freezes, and you wish you could take back what you just said. Obviously if what she was dreaming about could make her break down like that, why would she want to think about it more? 
She pulls her face out of your chest. Sighing heavily as she wipes her hands across her face, brushing away the stray tears that hadn’t absorbed into your cami, which was now damp across the chest. 
She pulls a pillow into her lap, wrapping her arms around it and avoiding your eyes by any means necessary. She sighs, and croaks out, “It was my father.” Rubbing underneath her eyes again, she continues, “He… wasn’t the most kind to me, ever. He only saw me as a tool to pass the company onto when he died. He was furious when he found out that I was learning how to use Myrtenaster, thinking I was trying to stray away from the company. That was the first time he ever hit me.” You gasp, and Weiss looks up at you, her icy blue eyes brimming with pain. 
“I was so shocked, I couldn’t do anything! But eventually the abuse just got so bad, that the morning after getting beat, I couldn’t move, and my mother would have to come in and help me. My mother was the one person I loved for me entire childhood, but even she left me eventually, like everyone else did. The night that she died from an assassin, a blade through the heart, my father finally snapped, and he believed it was me who did it, that I was the one to kill the one person I ever loved! 
“He almost killed me that night. All I really remember from it was being pulled up by my necklace from my bed, and being thrown across the room. The next morning I woke up in the hospital, covered in bruises and bandages,  and my father sitting next to my bed with a look of such fake concern, saying how he barely managed to save me from the same person who got my mother.” Weiss was glaring at her hands with such bitterness, that you barely resist the urge to reach out and grab them. 
“I’ve never actually been able to tell anyone this, Ruby. Everyone thinks that I’m the privileged girl, destined to run a successful company, that I’m ‘Daddy’s Little Girl’. But I’m not, my father thinks I’m a means to an end, he treats me like trash, and I haven’t gotten any affection from anyone since I was twelve.” 
She looks up at you with so much sadness in her eyes, and you don’t even note how pitiful she looks, with her hair dropping into her tear-stained face, clutching the pillow to her chest like it’s the only thing anchoring her. You just gather her into your arms, stroking her hair and murmuring, “I had no idea, I’m so sorry.” 
She chuckles drily as she wraps her hands around your waist, and says, “Don’t be. I don’t need pity when it’s over and done. By the end of the semester, I’ll be able to cut myself out of the family, and I’ll be able to start new, without being scared of the repercussions with my father.” 
You just tighten your arms around her shoulders, and decide, “Let’s go grab something from the kitchen, maybe have some hot chocolate to try and calm ourselves down.” 
You release her, but grab her hand, tugging her gently out of bed and downstairs. As you put on the kettle to boil water, she grabs mugs from the cupboard, pulling out the two largest ones you have. You grin at her, and grab the hot chocolate mix, noting idly, “It’s not odd is it, that we’re having hot chocolate at 3 in the morning, right?” 
She looks up from her seat at the breakfast bar, and she laughs. “Not at all, at least, not in this house!” 
You dump some of the powder into both mugs, and pull the kettle of boiling water off the stove, pouring water into the cups to three-quarters of the way full. You turn the stove off with one hand, watching the flame go out, and with the other hand you’re stirring the hot chocolate in both the cups. Dropping a spoon onto the counter next to each cup, you open the fridge, grabbing your bottle of sweet cream coffee creamer, and call out, “Do you want any creamer?” 
You hear Weiss respond with, “Some of Yang’s peppermint creamer, please.” You grab the bottle along with yours, and pour some into each respective cup. You put the creamers back and grab the bag of marshmallows that are in the cupboard next to the fridge, dropping one neatly in each mug. You twist-tie the bag shut, and drop it back onto the shelf it was on. 
Picking up the mugs, you give Weiss hers, and continue on into the living room. You glance over your shoulder, and ask, “I’m turning on the TV, any specific channel you want to watch?” 
Weiss shakes her head, and you turn on a random cartoon channel as she sits next to you on the couch. You both slowly drink your hot chocolate as you remark quietly on random things in the cartoons, whether it be what a character looks like, or a one-liner that you find funny. 
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The next morning, Yang and Blake walk into an abnormally quiet house, with the TV running in the living room. Blake goes to turn it off, while Yang kicks off her boots and grabs a water bottle from the fridge. A small chuckle from the living room gains her attention, and she shoots a questioning glance at Blake. Blake beckons her into the living room, so she walks over to find hot coco mugs sitting on the coffee table, and you and Weiss sleeping, Weiss’ head rested on your shoulder, and your head on top of hers. 
Category:Fan Fiction