Work Text:
Weiss Lannister didn't know how, but she was suddenly aware that she was in a dream.
It was a strange sensation, as though she had fallen asleep and woken up at the same time while still being between the two.
What she did know was that the arrival of her strange state of consciousness dispelled much of the serene warmth and comfort she was feeling in sharing a bed with Ruby Rose in their dorm back on Beacon. She remembered that there had been… something that had happened before, leading up to this moment, but for the life of her she could not recall why they were now in her room in Lannisport(?). But, seeing Ruby sleeping peacefully in their bed in the Schnee Manor, still wearing that cute black t-shirt and heart-patterned pajama pants like in their Beacon days brought a profound sense of warmth her heart, as she smiled down in love.
"So this is what occupies your dreams."
The transition was as jarring as it was instant, as Weiss suddenly found herself standing in the Great Hall of the Red Keep, all of its hanging stag banners and tapestries of epic battle fluttering in a non-existent breeze, as an invisible troupe played in the background. But her attention was drawn to the Iron Throne, where she saw… herself?
"A throne made of swords," she scoffed, unnerving Weiss even further. "Impressive enough, I suppose, for a Young Kingdom."
Weiss did not recognize the style of the gown this other self wore: a dark blue embroidered with gold in alien curves that accentuated her figure. She could see the influence of the rest of Team RWBY in the jewelry she wore, from the dangling topaz earrings to the amethyst in her obsidian headpiece to the teardrop ruby held by her silver collar. But there was an alienness in her features that truly discomforted Weiss, from the pointedness of her ears to the sharper slant of her cheekbones.
But most of all, it was her eyes, highlighted beneath by geometric streaks of makeup metallic and red as blood. They were filled with a casual and imperious cruelty that she had never seen before – not in her father, not in Ironwood, not even in Salem. They weren't the eyes of someone who had lost their humanity. They were the eyes of something that had never been human to begin with.
"But I think you will agree that this is a more potent display of power and authority."
Then the scenery shifted once more, and where there once stood stone pillars and large braziers of fire, there were great glowing quartzes flanked by towering crosses occupied by slaves who wailed in chorus, all standing in a Great Hall easily more than triple the size of the Red Keep's. And in the place of the Iron Throne, there was an enormous ruby gemstone that easily dwarfed it, with a longer staircase carved into it, leading up to where her dark reflection lounged with the ease and power of a lion- no, a dragon.
Now the other her smiled in satisfaction. "I can only imagine how often the rest of Imrryr have dreamed of sitting here."
The name was alien to Weiss. Could it be a place in Old Valyria? "What are you? What's going on?"
The other her chortled as she rose up and descended, Myrtenaster in her right hand, a sliver of death for her enemies. "You ask 'what,' but you don't ask 'who? It's good to know that your time in that medieval backwater hasn't dulled your mind, so I'll give you my name anyway."
Weiss narrowed her eyes at the condescension, as the other gave a flourish with her left hand before introducing herself:
"I am Wycylla Skorldt. Scion of the Royal Line of R'lin K'ren A'a, Dyvim to the Sorcerer-Kings and Dragonlords of the Bright Empire of Melniboné. The foremost servants of the Chaos Lords, and the Masters of the Earth."
Weiss would have called anyone else who had made a similar speech pompous, delusional even. But her words rang with pure confidence in her power to back those words, and a deadly eagerness to meet any challenge made to them. Weiss chose not to rise to them.
The other - now Wycylla – continued climbing down the stairs as she spoke. "But I'm curious. Just what did you take me for?"
"I'm not quite sure," Weiss admitted. "A demon come to torment me, a dragon dream of my future-"
"Dragon dream?" The reflection's eyebrow raised at that, as she continued her descent toward her. "Heh, no. This is not a product of your incarnation's connections with those bastard lizards you call dragons."
"My incarnation?" Weiss balked, forgoing the strange slight against her Valyrian heritage in favor of the revealed implications of her existence. "So you are me as well, but in another time. Probably another world."
"A time and world unlike any you've ever known," the other responded arrogantly. "But I am not you, nor are you me."
"But it seems we are both Weiss Schnee reincarnated," Weiss responded.
Right then, she saw Wycylla's calm mask slip, her face fighting to stop itself from twisting itself into a furious sneer, as a gaze of pure hatred blazed through her eyes. Weiss instinctually raised Myrtenaster in defense, her original blade a more faithful and surer fit for her figure and soul than Kalimeris could ever hope to be, no matter how well the latter served her in her new life. And as she saw the Melnibonéan's eyes level upon the rapier in her left hand, an exact copy of the one in other's right, she hoped to further disarm her before the two came to blows.
"BAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHHH!!
It was the cruelest laugh that Weiss had ever heard. Vicious in its mockery at both herself and Weiss, reveling in humor that only fate or a cosmic mistake could make. As though she had just heard the funniest joke ever told, and that Weiss had unwittingly made herself the punchline.
A line of white snowflake glyphs popped into existence and Weiss shot forward along them like a bullet to spear Wycylla in her black heart. An identical glyph stopped her attack dead in its tracks. For a moment, the two locked glares from either side of the spinning symbol of their shared origin. Then the glyph vanished and the Other swung her blade up to parry Weiss's blade, forcing her to instantly readjust her grip and stance to prevent and immediate follow-up striking at her body, ending with their blades locked together in a crooked cross.
"I don't think you grasp the weakness of your position, Lannister," Wycylla of Imrryr coldly remarked.
How did she know my new name? Weiss of Lannisport instantly thought. I didn't introduce myself.
"For the same reason you didn't know mine," Wycylla smirked, jarring Weiss out of her thoughts.
Then she felt a massive blade smash into her unprotected side, hurtling her through the air like a baseball and fritzing her Aura like television static. A hastily conjured glyph allowed her to stop herself from crashing into the wall, as well as see the Arma Gigas running toward her, about to leap into the air to continue its assault. She immediately made two more glyphs past it and sped around the summon as its momentum carried it past.
*ZAP-BOOM* "AAGGGHHH!!!"
Only to get blasted by a lightning bolt from the other girl, dropping her to the floor. She heaved and hacked as she furiously staggered to her feet, rapier speeding to meet the relentless assault from the monster wearing her face.
"We are in my dream," Wycylla crowed, "and I am taking yours!"
Weiss powered up a time dilation glyph and sped to her opponent. The latter spawned a pair of gravity glyphs and caught her between them in time for swords to greet each other once more. And despite the greater speed, the opposite pulls threw off the rhythm of her swings and many strikes breached her defense.
Then her time dilation ran out, and her opponent cut her gravity glyphs at the same time, dizzying Weiss just long enough for her enemy to stab her full force in the stomach with a blast of Ice Dust. And before Weiss could do anything to free herself, Wycylla jumped back as her Arma Gigas plunged like a meteor, sword raised in two hands. Weiss desperately conjured a barrier-
*CRASH!*
"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!"
-only for it to shatter like ceramic when its sword came down on her like the hammer of a god, breaking bones and Aura both, leaving Weiss Lannister a whimpering, feeble mass of pained flesh. Utterly helpless as her predator stepped forward with a satisfied gleam in her eye and loomed over her like a vulture.
"W-why?" Weiss Lannister asked. "For some slight made against you by a past self? For a sport that you've learned in your current life? Or are you just sating a queer vanity learned in this Melniboné you now hail from?"
Wycylla kneeled down, and now an expression of pity emanated from her face, as unnatural a fit to her features as white on a rose. "Such a sweet summer child you've grown to be. Such a shame for your new family to have a girl they and their world were doomed to forget."
Fear blossomed anew in Weiss's breast, fueled further by apocalyptic fury. "That's what you're doing?! Is killing me not enough to satisfy your sadism that you must erase all memory of me as well?!?"
Wycylla tittered. "Oh Weiss, that is what shall always happen, no matter what I do to you."
The fire of Weiss's fury became overwhelmed by the chill of her fear. "What are you saying?"
Wycylla leaned down to her, like an adult would before talking to a child. "To be an incarnation of Weiss Schnee is to be born into a lie. Our existences were not ordained by the divine or demonic, and fate itself has declared our designs to be of no consequence. It is the delight of both gods and demons that we are scattered like sparks throughout the pseudo-infinity of the Multiverse to live out our lives in the dreams of worlds that will march their predetermined course without knowledge or care of our ever having visited them.
"And we are not the only ones who've been dealt this hand by fate," Wycylla continued, her left hand softly brushing hair off of Weiss's face. "All of Remnant has been singularly cursed by the Multiverse, for the Brother Gods dared to defy fate itself with its creation. So it has taken Remnant out of their hands, and allows it to be passed around by the ruling powers of the Multiverse like a whore, for each to have their fun with it until they either grow bored or someone else decides to take it from them so that they can have another turn.
"But would you like to know my biggest secret, Weiss Lannister?" Wycylla whispered, close enough to Weiss to kiss or bite off her lips. Weiss said nothing, but her breathing only quickened, afraid of what her tormentor would do next.
Wycylla spoke once more, a rising tone of fatalism in her voice: "I am an existence that has been doubly cursed; for I both am and am not Weiss Schnee. I was created by Weiss Schnee in a vision spawned by sorceries and potions so that she could escape from the horrors she was witness to. I am nothing but a dream."
Wycylla's hand then slipped from Weiss's face and crushed itself around her throat to hold her fast to the floor. The Westerosi variant choked and writhed and beat at her Melnibonéan oppressor as she desperately fought to save herself. But without her Aura, and trapped in a battlefield of her opponent's make and choosing, she was as helpless as a babe as she watched Wycylla raise a perfect copy of her beloved Myrtenaster in her right hand, its point aimed squarely at her left eye.
"And I refuse to remain one!"
Then she stabbed downwards, and Weiss's world became blacker than night.
…
…
"That's enough fun for you, my darling girl.̶͎̭͓̩̎"̷̖̮̱̖̠̳̱̭̔͆̇̋͊̓́
…
…
All the Gold Keep was roused in terror when Weiss Lannister's shrieking tore apart the silence of the night. Dramen and Ceria Lannister scrambled from their chambers, memories of the recent Greyjoy attack fresh on their minds to spur their feet. They arrived at her room to find the guards already there, who quickly assured them that it appeared to only be a nightmare. But they had not come as Lord and Lady Lannister, but as father and mother to their beloved daughter Weiss, who was in dire need of their presence and comfort.
They entered her room to find her curled up in her blankets, wailing and whimpering from her nightmare like the little girl she was supposed to be. Her eyes cracked open and saw them, and before they could utter a word, she shot out of bed and leapt up at her father, who caught her to his chest. She cried herself out into his shoulder as he whispered sweet comforts into her ear and kissed her cheek, while her mother wrapped her arms around them both to freely offer her love in the same fashion.
"I love you," Weiss said to them both.
All three shared the same bed that night.
Weiss would never forget having that nightmare.
But she would never remember what happened in it.
For fate is not without its small mercies; otherwise its designs would never come to fruition.