Nameless (ch1)

The first several chapters of the story will focus on Weiss' younger years with Cinder. This one is mainly told from her point of view.

A/N: I tried to keep the vocabulary and word choice basic, especially when it's told from Weiss' point of view. I want to give those parts a childish, innocent feeling as opposed to Cinder's parts. Also, the majority of this chapter is just world-building and explaining past events, hence the past-tense wording.

WARNINGS for mental/physical/psychological abuse.

Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY.

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							Chapter 1. A New Arrival

The hallways were always cold inside, and Weiss had never understood why.

There were a few windows around the mansion, most of which were covered by dark curtains that Cinder forbade her from moving.

"People can see you through those," Cinder had told her. "Don't let them see you. Ever."

But one window – the one in Weiss' own room – faced a forest, and that was the only window of the mansion that wasn't constantly covered by curtains.

So Weiss was allowed to look out through the glass, and outside, she could often see for herself that the days were bright and sunny and warm.

So why was it always so cold inside?

She didn't know, but when she'd asked Cinder one day, the response had been a disinterested shrug.

"It matters not, my dear," she'd said with a smile. "The cold is better, is it not? In the heat of the sun, you'll swelter and melt. But not in here. Never in here. If you shiver, then you merely pull a cloak around your shoulders. It's that simple, darling."

To the six-year-old girl she was, the answer had made sense to Weiss.

So she'd ventured through the frigid hallways that she'd called home for over a year now – though as far as she knew, it had been for her entire life.

She'd wandered to her room and pulled one small blanket off the bed, wrapping it around her shoulders like a cloak, mimicking the fashion of dress she'd always seen Cinder adorn. It had still been a little cold, but it had been better than before.

Returning to the unlit hallways, she'd clutched the makeshift cloak at her chest and went to the dark living room area, taking a seat on the couch there. She'd then closed her eyes, and began to meditate.

There weren't any toys in the mansion, and when Weiss had asked for some, Cinder had curtly refused her.

"Playing would interrupt your meditation," she'd said. "You've no need for toys, my dear. You're much too smart for such things."

Weiss didn't know why she needed to meditate, but she'd been doing it for as long as she could remember. Cinder wanted her to do it, so Weiss always did it.

She wanted to be a good girl.

She wanted to make Cinder happy.

Cinder was her mother, after all.

They were alone in that big mansion, so she was certain the woman must've gotten lonely like Weiss did sometimes, and Weiss didn't want loneliness to turn into sadness.

Whenever Cinder did get lonely, she would ring a small bell she had, and Weiss had quickly come to realize that was Cinder's method of summoning her.

So she'd rush to Cinder to see what it was she wanted from Weiss, though it was usually just to call her to mealtime or check to see if she'd been meditating. Weiss had grown accustomed to the sound of that bell, and there had even been a few times she'd sought out Cinder when it hadn't rang at all.

"I'm sorry," she'd say. "I thought I heard you ring it."

And every time, Cinder would smile and pat her head.

"Such a loyal child," she'd murmur.

Cinder knew she couldn't have chosen a better target on that rainy morning nearly two years ago.

Just the day after she'd taken her, Cinder had gone in to check on her new daughter, who had woken before her, looking disoriented as she sat up in bed. But that was to be expected, Cinder had told herself.

She'd been prepared to expect anything from the girl; crying, screaming, questioning.

But what she'd gotten had been none of those things. What she'd gotten had been a pair of bright blue eyes meeting her amber ones, but there'd been no curiosity in that innocent gaze, no fear, no confusion. Only recognition and acceptance, proof that Cinder's spell had been successful.

"Mother," she'd said. "My head feels fuzzy."

And that had been it. The first word she'd ever heard from the girl's mouth.

'Mother'.

That was all Cinder had ever wanted.

So she'd cared for the girl all day until her head had felt better, nursing her like a newborn fawn. Cinder had cradled the girl in her lap, petting through her long hair, kissing the scar on her cheek, the scar she herself had painted.

And so, their first day as mother and daughter had passed without a hitch.

And for over a year now, the girl had never given her any issues.

Cinder planned to keep things that way.

She always made meals for herself and the girl, meals her daughter never turned her nose up at. Weiss was sure to eat whatever Cinder had prepared for her, even the vegetables. In fact, she rather liked those, and was always eager to clean her plate.

Even at the young age of six, Weiss had done her very best to help out with house chores, cleaning off her plate with a rag even when she was too small to reach the sink.

Cinder was all she had in the world, and Weiss strove to earn her affection; she'd been put under the impression that a mother's affection was something she needed to earn, after all.

On stormy nights, if Weiss couldn't sleep, Cinder would take her into her own room, pet through her hair, and hold her until she could rest.

But every night – regardless of whether Weiss had fallen asleep already or not – Cinder would always come in to kiss her goodnight.

Weiss loved her very much, and she knew Cinder loved her, too.

And Cinder did – to some extent – love the girl in return. She'd have to love her if the ideals Cinder had in mind for the future years were to bear any fruit.

The first several months after she'd taken her had been a bit troublesome, what with the pesky officers showing up at her door to ask questions and inform her about a missing child. Cinder had feigned ignorance every time, even going so far as to allow them inside to inspect the place.

When that happened, Cinder would ring the small bell she kept beneath her cloak.

Weiss was always listening for that bell, even if it was only a subconscious reaction, but it was one she'd been conditioned to.

At the sound of two rings, Weiss knew that meant it was mealtime or that Cinder wanted to see her.

But a single ring told her she needed to hide herself.

One ring of that bell meant she could do something she'd never be allowed to do normally. She'd take off down the halls as quickly and quietly as she could, and head for the secret door. It was hidden in the crevice of a corner, behind a bookshelf.

A staircase led down into a dark, chilly basement. Weiss was to curl up in the corner there and wait until Cinder came to get her.

It was colder down there than in the rest of the mansion, and Weiss didn't always have her blanket with her. There was a small window though, the only other one in the mansion without curtains, which provided the faintest bit of light from the streets above, as she was below ground-level here.

Sometimes, she'd wait for hours, until she'd heard Cinder's footsteps descending the stairs, at which point Weiss would jump up and run to her, hugging her legs. Cinder would then scoop her up, praise her for her good listening, and then bring her back upstairs.

Weiss longed to be with Cinder as often as possible, longed to be close to her, longed to be warm in her arms. But that only happened when Cinder stayed in the mansion.

When Cinder stayed home, she would usually spend her time in her quarters, only emerging to prepare food for Weiss or check on her mediation practices. But for the majority of the time, she'd stay behind closed doors, and Weiss hadn't the slightest clue as to what she did there.

There were many rooms of the mansion, some of which not even Cinder ventured into very often. Weiss was only permitted to go inside a few of them, including Cinder's on stormy nights. Otherwise, it was Weiss' own bedroom, the living area, kitchen, and the bathroom - she was only allowed into the basement during emergencies, and that was all.

Those several rooms were the entire extent of her world.

She'd seen Cinder passing between the rooms from time to time, often disappearing behind doors for hours on end. But whenever Weiss had asked about what Cinder had been doing, she'd be sharply told not to ask again, so she wouldn't.

If she ever made Cinder upset or asked a bad question, Weiss would feel so horrible she'd sometimes be sick in the bathroom. It was the worst feeling ever when Cinder was mad at her, even just a little bit.

In contrast, Weiss loved it more than anything whenever Cinder kissed her and praised her, pet her hair and tied it up for her, hugged her and held her close.

And Weiss loved it when Cinder was home with her. When her mother was there, Weiss felt like everything was right with the world, so long as Cinder wasn't mad.

Cinder always wore her hood up outdoors, but as soon as she was out of the sun, she'd let it fall to reveal her face and hair to Weiss. Weiss felt special in knowing she was the only person who could see her mother's pretty eyes like this.

But whenever Cinder pulled up her hood and left the mansion, she never brought Weiss along with her. She'd tell her to behave and then leave her there alone.

So Weiss would simply stay in the unlit living room and wait for Cinder's return. She'd read books to the best of her abilities; her meditation was her biggest task, but Cinder always encouraged and permitted her to read daily as well.

When she'd completed her daily tasks, however, Weiss would retreat to her bedroom and look out the single uncovered window there, wondering what it would be like to go outside with Cinder.

She could only ever imagine such a thing.

. . .

In one instance, Weiss had been too cold to stay still. Even wrapped in all her blankets, the outside sunlight had been far too tempting to ignore.

So she'd climbed up on a small storage box and tried to reach her window, just so she may open it. She'd had no intentions of escape, but merely longed to breathe a fresh breath of air.

But the window sill wouldn't budge, not even when she'd unhinged the lock and poured all of her strength into moving it.

Cinder had told her never to move the curtains from the windows that faced the streets in the other rooms, so Weiss couldn't try to open those. She could only try the one in her own room that showed her the forest.

It never budged, and Weiss assumed all other windows in the mansion would behave in a similar fashion, though she didn't dare risk trying them.

So she'd retreated to her bed and wrapped herself back in her blankets, trying to forget thoughts of the outside world.

But Weiss had always longed to go outside, and she couldn't remember ever doing so in her entire life.

The only time she'd ever breathed fresh air would be the times she'd just so happened to be near the front door whenever Cinder came home. If the door was opened for a few seconds, it would be long enough for Weiss to fill her lungs with the breeze before the air turned stale once more.

But other than that, she had little knowledge of the world beyond those mansion walls.

. . .

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Presently, several months later, it was the day Weiss decided to ask Cinder about opening a window or going outside.

She'd soon discover it would be the worst day of her life.

The second she heard the front door open, Weiss placed her book down onto her bed and hurried down the hall, hoping to catch a breath of that fresh air from outside.

"Mother!" With a joyous cry, Weiss opened her arms and hugged Cinder's waist tightly. "I meditated all day, and even read a book!" she announced.

Cinder closed and locked the door behind her, then removed her hood.

"Very good," she purred, reaching down to pet the girl's head.

"And I was just wondering..." Weiss mumbled. "May I come outside with you next time? I want to feel the sunlight just once!"

In an instant, Cinder's soft, tender voice grew loud, sharp, and vehement.

"Never!" she hissed. "You are never allowed to set foot outside of this place, do I make myself clear?"

It was the most fury Weiss had ever heard from her.

She broken down instantly, her innocent smile fading as she collapsed to her knees on the spot. She crumpled at Cinder's shoes and wailed frightened apologies.

"I-I'm s-sorry, Mother!" she gasped. "I-I'll never ask again, I p-promise...!"

The debilitating sobs raked her small body so violently it nearly became a spasm.

Cinder watched for a moment, content to see her manipulative methods of raising the girl had been successful, and borne the exact fruit she'd desired. The fact that her daughter would break apart if Cinder was even slightly angry with her meant that the opposite was true as well - this meant the girl would jump eagerly at any chance to serve Cinder, and do her bidding to avoid her ire.

It was precisely the kind of reaction she'd been seeking, and the exact relationship she'd been striving to build between them.

Cinder's smile and praise would be the only reward the child would ever need. She'd make sure of it.

Likewise, her disapproval and scorn would ensure that the girl's body would shut down, and provide sufficient punishment for upsetting her mother.

In that moment, Cinder knew the treatment of her stolen daughter over the months thus far had all gone perfectly according to plan. She was the sole withholder of authority within this household, after all. She'd get what she strove for, even if it meant damaging a few fragile hearts in the process.

Once she'd seen enough, Cinder cooed, kneeling down to wrap the girl in an embrace.

"There, there. Mother's sorry. She isn't angry with you, dear." She kissed the girl's forehead and helped her to her feet. Cinder pulled her into an embrace, reestablishing the warmth the girl needed so badly to survive. "Worry not, my child. I'll make sure you'll have enough to do inside, so much so that you'll never feel the need to go outside again. I only ask for a bit of patience. Can you do that for me, dear? Can you be patient for Mother?"

Weiss sniffled and nodded into Cinder's chest, hugging her shoulders needfully as the throbbing pain in her chest gradually started to die away.

"Good girl," Cinder purred with a smile. "It might be a while yet, but I'll get you a nice gift. I promise."

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For nearly four and a half a years, until she was ten years of age, Weiss lived with her false mother, with every day becoming a more intense emotional trial.

Cinder kept her angers and frustrations to a purposeful minimum, though she did display a bit of displeasure from time to time simply to ensure the girl would still react in a self-deprecating manner.

But after the seasons had changed again and again, the search for the town's missing girl was gradually forgotten and swept under the rug with the rest of its dusty secrets.

Consequently, Cinder's mood only became better in knowing she'd succeeded.

However, in the colder months, she noticed how easily her adoptive daughter would start to shiver, how quickly she was affected by the cold. The telltale signs had been there all along, even in warmer times - the girl was terribly prone to cold. As the years had progressed, her condition had only seemed to worsen.

And now as winter drew near once more, Cinder feared the chill of the mansion might make the girl ill, and even possibly claim her life.

She couldn't afford to let that happen, not when she'd gone through so much effort to collect and keep her.

Not when she'd already spent so much time molding this child into her ideal slave.

So she kept to her promise and made sure she found something interesting that would keep her daughter entertained when Cinder wasn't home, something that would keep her warm at night.

She'd just picked it up at the marketplace, and kept it hidden beneath her cloak all the way home.

There, Cinder rang her bell twice, alerting the girl in her room to come running.

There was a brief pitter-patter of footsteps across the floorboards until not a minute later, the white hair and blue dress came into view. She came to a halt, sliding on her socks across the floor to pause just a few feet away from Cinder.

"Welcome home, Mother!"

Weiss was happy to see her as always and was about to reach out to hug her. But she froze when she noticed...

Cinder wasn't alone.

From beneath her cloak, she revealed a small child, about Weiss' size, perhaps just a bit bigger.

It was a girl, dressed in long, raggedy pants that were covered in dirt and little holes. Her shirt was thin and tattered, and only a small purple bandana around one bicep kept her arms protected. She had black hair a little shorter than Weiss', and her golden eyes were wide with fear as she trembled between Weiss and Cinder.

But what Weiss noticed above all else were the two cat ears flattened atop the strange girl's head, implying she was a Faunus.

Weiss was in awe, and yet slightly terrified at the new arrival. She took a step back, clutching her chest as she looked up at Cinder.

"M-Mother... who is she? Is she... your daughter, too?"

Cinder smiled and knelt down behind the Faunus child, but when she reached out, it was toward Weiss.

"Of course not, my dear. You are my only daughter, and my only child at all. Worry not. I'll not be giving this one any more affection or attention than necessary. All of that will still be just for you, dear."

Weiss relaxed a little as Cinder's hand caressed her cheek for her. She closed her eyes for a moment to savor the contact, until a whimper from the Faunus girl had Weiss looking back to her.

Weiss blinked slowly as Cinder withdrew her hand, and with a gentle shove to the back, sent the Faunus girl stumbling forward, until she was just inches away from the girl in blue.

"This, my dear, is not my new daughter. But merely your new pet. She will keep you company when I'm not around, and she will keep you warm at night."

"Really?" Weiss gasped. She didn't like the cold. She would've enjoyed sleeping beside someone else for a change. "But... where did she come from?" she asked curiously.

Cinder smiled again.

"Oh, nowhere. I just found her in an alleyway, discarded and abandoned. No one else wanted her, so I took her in. A kind gesture, don't you think?"

"Yes!" Weiss said. "Mother is very kind!" She then looked at the Faunus girl before her. "We'll take good care of you here! Don't worry!"

The golden-eyed girl merely sniffled, casting a terrified glance first to Cinder, and then to Weiss. The white-haired girl reached out to take both of the Faunus girl's hands, tugging her a step forward.

"Come with me! I'll show you around your new home!"

And with that, she began to lead the timid Faunus girl down the hallways.

Cinder watched in satisfaction. Everything thus far was going perfectly according to her wishes.

Now all there was left to do was wait.

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A/N: First of all, I hope I conveyed Cinder's manipulation of Weiss in a way you can understand. Just to clarify, she's mentally abusing her to the point where Weiss' body will go into a severe panic/anxiety attack if she disobey's Cinder. Very twisted, I know, but it'll come into play a lot later on.

Chapter 2 preview: Blake could instantly see that the other girl pitied her.

Blake hated her already.

Or at least... she felt she should've.

But as those small, cold hands clasped around hers and led her down the capacious hallway, Blake found that the tears weren't flowing anymore.