A/N: Crossposted from Ao3 - this work is complete and will be updated weekly on Sundays

I had a very random burst of inspiration that led to the first few chapters of this, but this story is a little over a years worth of work put into it! I am still readjusting to FF after a very long hiatus, but know that I care about this work deeply - and hope many more people come to discover it! Please enjoy!

The horn blew once, a short blast. Winter opened her eyes and stopped her calming breaths. Eyes closed, deep breath in, feel her aura surging through her bones, and out again. She would not look frightened. She would not show her anger. She was poised, and strong, and capable of handling savages. She was here to fix her Father's mistakes, and if one Branwen even thought of harming her, this foolish alliance would be broken. Besides, she may not be as helpless as they are led to believe.

It was all the Xiao-Long's fault, really, Winter had concluded during her long journey here. If the Dragon hadn't accepted a quick marriage to Raven Branwen and united the powerful clan of Vale with the brutal bandits of West Mistral, then there wouldn't be any threat against Atlas when Jacques Schnee invaded for the possibility of more dust mines. Schnee's foolish attempt at fighting the Branwens for land had dragged in the Xiao-Longs, and Atlas had never been so ultimately defeated. Three years of fighting had earned them nothing. And with the threat of another war, this time on Atlas ground, other methods towards peace had to be used. Jacques Schnee had a daughter, Avani Branwen had a son. They could be married, and make peace. And Winter was now a hostage under the guise of a wife, thrown at the feet of savages and told to beg for mercy.

The horn blew again, this time twice, both long. They were approaching the camp. One of the Branwen's many, she assumed. They moved so often, it was impossible to attack them at the heart. All of them warriors, all earned their place among their Tribe, and all united under Raven Branwen in Western Anima's harsh territory. Not even the Emperor in Mistral bothered to control the Tribe, any villages would turn against the kingdom as soon as they could. Anything to save their villages. The stories Winter had been told - what anyone who aligned themselves with the Branwens would do to those who didn't - were more horrifying than the monstrous tales of the Grimm.

Still, Winter sat quietly in her transport that brought her closer to these savages, gloved hands folded perfectly over her lap. Her serving girl, Nadine, sat silently across from her, looking at her shoes. It was warmer in Anima, though Winter still wore her long sleeved dresses and gloves, scarf to cover her neck. She'd do her duty, ensure Atlas was safe so the Schnee name could live on. The people under her father's care would thank her, life would carry on there. Perhaps in time, Weiss would grow and prove to be a great heiress in her place. That would be worth it, hopefully.

She glanced through her transport's window to see high, spiked walls of this camp. It seemed more like a military base than a home. Though, Winter supposed, brutes didn't see the need to beautify their homes as they did in Atlas. They had nothing to be proud of. Men and women lined the top of the wall, some with crossbows, other just watching. Inside were sharp red and black tents, some only fit for one person, others for whole families. Nothing was permanent, save for one stone and wood hall near the edge of camp. She heard some snippets of conversations of among the people, in the common language, though with the rough, Animaen drawl. They rode onward until they reached the center clearing, a crowd watching, some snickering and others staring in apathy.

Winter was helped out of her transport, Nadine bowing and backing away. Winter folded her hands together and steadily continued forward, a line of people on a raised platform watching her silently. Three in the center with red eyes, wild black hair, she could pick out her future husband instantly. Qrow, they called him. A simple name for simple people, nothing elegant or thoughtful about it. He didn't quite a look a warrior, certainly not someone called a Harbinger of Death. He was tall, almost lanky, and hair that looked as if it were cut brazenly with a blade. Red eyes, the same as the other two on the dais. He didn't smile, though no look of discontent was on his face either. Winter saw him clench his jaw, and look to a young woman beside him.

It must have been his sister who stood to his side, blazing red eyes and feathery hair barely tied back from her face. Raven Branwen was almost every bit of intimidation Winter had heard about her. She stood tall with her arms over her chest, bulky sheath strapped to her waist, though the red sword that killed so many Atlesians remained hidden. Raven looked Winter up and down, though judging her worth.

Let her judge. Winter thought, not hesitating a step towards the family. She had been surprising people all her life. It couldn't be hard to impress a band like this.

The man on the other side of the dais, however, was the one who came closest to sending a shiver down her spine. Taller than his son, though with longer and graying hair, no weapon to be seen around him, and shoulders as wide as an ox. Avani Branwen was known from before this war had started. Ruthless and unforgiving, he had taken the reigns of the Branwen Tribe and singlehandedly united nearly every other bandit clan in western Anima. A network of tribes spanning a continent, attacking everything but each other. It took wars upon wars, Avani lost all three of his brothers in the fighting, but any tribe who turned against the Branwens eventually found themselves smothered into dust. Some rebellion here or there over the years, one or two clans who refused to follow them at all. As soon as he found his daughter capable, he handed the title of Chief to Raven, who was quickly making a name for herself. Though everyone still held respect for the man.

Winter didn't want to imagine what he would decide to do to an outsider like herself if he decided she was not worth the peace her father needed. She held her chin high, squaring her shoulders but did not tense them, she would not look afraid. Schnees were ice and steel, they did not cower. With all the other eyes staring down at her, Winter knew any sliver of fear would be eaten up the moment they got the chance to pounce on her. She locked eyes with Qrow, who raised a brow and glanced to his father.

Avani looked her up and down, mirroring his daughter, and took his time measuring Winter's worth. Still, she said nothing, remaining straight in her posture and calm in her breaths. Others around her started to whisper, others looked bored. Raven leaned towards Qrow, he whispered something that made her almost roll her eyes before she stopped. The chief raised a hand, and the crowd quieted as Raven stepped forward.

"Winter Schnee, you are what your father promised us, my brother agrees. We accept this bond between our people." Raven said gracefully, and carefully. Winter was surprised at how young her voice sounded, though the twins were only a few years older than her. Her words were smooth, without the savage drawl she had heard from some of the whispering tribesmen around her.

Winter did not let the surprise show, but raised her chin and lowered into a curtsy. "I am honored. To be wed to a strong man, and to bring peace between us."

Raven made a sound like a scoff, but Winter did not look twice to check. "I'm sure you are." She waved a hand, and Winter rose. Two of the Tribe flanked her, and she did allow herself to look back to her familiar servant near the transport in a flash of surprise. "Show her to her tent, let her people take the heiress's things. And help me celebrate my brother's marriage." Raven ended with a smirk, the others in the crowd cheered.

All at once the Branwen Tribe seemed to forget Winter was ever there. They mobbed together, Winter heard the opening of bottles, someone started playing a fiddle, another a low horn, but she seemed to be forgotten about all together. The women who had taken her arms led her through the crowd. One laughed at someone in the crowd, and the other threw a playful punch at someone else. She looked back up at the dais where the Branwens stood. Avani already gone, Raven had a hand on her brother's shoulder and whispered something in his ear, though it was impossible to hear above the noise around her.

She was led to a red tent, though it seemed large enough to fit her transport inside. A fire was already started in the center, bed covered with furs and a rug covered the ground under it. Lanterns lined the beams holding the tent up, already lit. There was a beaten up desk that seemed to also serve as a table, with beside it what looked like a brand new, oak chest with gold trimmings. No doubt stolen, all bandits knew how to do was steal.

"Do not spread your things too far." The woman behind her advised. Winter barely stifled a flinch when she saw the spotted leopard tail swishing back and forth, the thick Menagerie accent becoming more obvious. "Take what is closest to you and keep it by your side, or you will not have these things for long." She pointed her tail to the trunks of things her serving man was dragging into the tent. The Faunus smirked at Winter before exiting the tent.

Alone, Winter heeded her advice. She expected nothing else of the liars and thieves that bandits were proud to be. As soon as she turned her back, she supposed there would be thieves coming to her tent, taking jewels or other things they think they could get away with. Winter could hope perhaps once she was married they might think twice of crossing her, but before she proved she had any strength, it was doubtful.

She dashed to her trunk, rooting through her gowns to find Shattered Ice. The delicate saber was the one thing she had to sneak away from her father. Jacques had put an end to her sword lessons as soon as her heard about them, but her mother managed to keep her saber for her. She had practiced in secret, honing her semblance to bend to her will, simple glyphs came easy. At home it was easy to play with her abilities, she could fend off a few attackers, but she wasn't a master.

Here, among seemingly endless waves of enemies who no doubt hated her family for trying to take land away from them, even the smallest weapon would be useful. Part of this alliance was for Winter to remain unharmed, though with the first bandit she's met only giving a warning, her doubts rose higher.

She wrapped her hand tight around the hilt of her blade, feeling the perfect balance, the expert craftsmanship that could only come from Atlas smiths. Everything else in her trunks seemed suddenly useless to her. Her sword now her only true necessity in a place like this. She would need to find time to hone her skills, improve on what she could. Winter had always been fast, with swordplay and with her wits. A little hot tempered, but she had a feeling that among these bandits that wasn't rare.

A shot rang out from the party outside, though people started laughing. She clutched Shattered Ice closer to her chest, and only prayed she would be left alone for the night.

Raven laughed when she walked in his tent, seeing Qrow sulk was always amusing to her. She cleared a spot at the table, pushing aside maps and strategy they didn't need anymore. She pulled out a chair, grabbed a glass and kicked her feet up on the table across from him. "At least she's pretty."

Qrow scoffed, swirling the drink in his glass. "Sure, white hair and blue eyes, just what I wanted."

"I know what you wanted." Raven scoffed, ignoring Qrow's glare. "A silver eyed Rose who's probably on the other side of the world. Really, brother, you have to forget about her. Besides, this one's taller, and-"

"Enough."

"Still, better you than me." Raven shrugged. Qrow rolled his eyes. "I'm serious," she laughed, shaking the table with a kick. "If she ever comes around to tolerate any of us, I think you could do it. Put all your charm to good use."

Qrow huffed out a breath, sinking in his chair. "You've never called it 'charm' before." Cheers were heard outside the tent, the camp still roaring from celebration. No doubt someone had beaten someone else in a brutal match. Bets were won or lost, though by the sound of it, mostly won. Ever since Winter Schnee and her small party had arrived this afternoon, the Tribe had used the coming wedding as an excuse to fight, and drink to their hearts' content. Wasn't rare, they'd use any excuse to do just that.

Any time before now, Qrow would be right out there with them, as proud as any Branwen to do whatever he pleased. He's proven himself over and over again, it's less that what he deserves. Now, with the Schnee girl a few tents over probably scared out of her mind, he didn't feel like adding to it. No matter much he despised her kingdom, or how she looked down on all of them as soon as she stepped onto their lands.

"She hates us." He shrugged, sipping at his glass. "She's good at playing her part, but you saw it in her eyes just like I did. I don't think there's enough charm in the world to douse that fire."

"That's what everyone said about the Dragon of Vale." Raven hummed, rocking her feet back and forth on the table. The smug grin gave Qrow enough to know what she would say, though as always she would say it anyway. He always underestimated how she became even cockier when buzzed. "Taiyang came around pretty fast."

"And how do often you see your dear husband?" Qrow drolled.

"Often enough that our alliance with Vale still holds, that's all that matters. We both have people to lead. With any luck, once the old Schnee dies, you'll be in a similar situation."

"She's too young."

"Not that young. They could have sent the four year old, would that have been better?" Qrow didn't share her amusement. Raven continued anyway. "I was married a year younger than she is now. She'll figure it out."

Raven smirked again. It was a miracle her and Taiyang Xiao-Long somehow actually remained married. The so-called Dragon was one of the softest men Qrow had ever met, off the field at least. Slow tempered and easy going. Qrow met Tai when they were married, and again when Atlas attempted to invade, only now he seemed to get to know the man. The war brought both their people together, though now that it was over, they returned to their respective homes. Raven was still Chief and Taiyang a leader of his people as well, they saw each other enough to keep their union valid, got along well enough, and little more. When Raven's daughter decided to make an appearance, Tai took her graciously and named her after himself. Raven's semblance had tied her to Yang whether she likes it or not, but the Chieftain visited her daughter little, and no one spoke much about it.

Raven finished the drink and slammed the glass on the table. Qrow didn't move when she got up. "But, if you want to argue with Father, he'll be here until the wedding."

"I'm sure he'd love to remind me of my place again."

"He would." Qrow swatted away his sister's hand when she ruffled his hair. Raven was the one to suggest the marriage, but Avani would always have the final say until the skies take him. After years of Trials, proving - or at least acting as if he could - control his curse around his father, Qrow chose his battles with him carefully. But this one he did not hesitate to start, and Avani did not hesitate to finish. When Raven was named Chief, Qrow didn't question it. She was the better leader among the two, more driven and dedicated. Qrow was more of a follower, though he was still free. He was promised to be free to go where he wished, take what he wanted, meet with who he liked, and - if he ever found it in himself - marry who he wanted. Until now, when his duty to his family required that to be changed.

Marriage was not common among them. People switched partners all the time. Children weren't necessary, but happened anyway, if they did truly love each other. His people didn't feel the need for a god or anyone else to say that their love was real. Raven only was tied to Tai for their alliance. The next closest thing they had to marriage was being bonded together, and even that was relatively unofficial. A promise made to each other, someone to witness it, but if it was broken, the fault was between them. Qrow had a feeling Winter would not idly accept a few words said beneath a redwood if he was going to break them so easily. And he was sure his father would not stand for it either.

Raven continued. "But he'll be gone after you two are bonded together. Probably back north. Keep an eye on the Falkes." He did not miss her eyes darting far away, even for just the split second.

Qrow ran his finger over the rim of his glass. "You should go south to the Isles for a while. You did just end a war, you could relax."

"Relax." She snorted, pacing around his large tent. "Please, I want to raid again. Real raids, not collecting tribute. And if I can't have that, what could be more relaxing than watching you try to navigate your new wife?"

"It won't be that relaxing once everyone starts trying to murder her."

"You're always dramatic." Raven laughed, stopping to watch his fire, a pit in the far corner of the hut. "But not entirely wrong."

"You could help me stop that."

"I have told them she is not to be harmed. You see how well they listen, to me anyway. If she wanted to be alive and safe, then her father would not have tried to make fools of us." She shrugged.

It would take more than a few words to convince a Branwen not to take a shot at the Schnee. They couldn't have Jacques himself, his daughter would do just fine as revenge.

"If Schnee is strong enough, she will live. If not, you're free to chase down your Rose. I'll blame her death on sickness, or a rogue tribesman, and when Jacques Schnee declares another war, I'll get to kill him myself. We can take Atlas like we took Anima."

"And try to keep tribes together from across the sea? As your closest advisor, I will advise you to keep from another war." Qrow drolled in a posh imitation, sinking lower into his chair. His roll has always been clear to him, his father made sure of that. They grew up knowing Raven would be Chief and he would stand at her side. The strongest of allies, most fervent supporter. A second opinion, a shield in battle, and a friend in safety. Qrow knew his place and he knew Raven would not do anything to him purely out of malice, so he listened when it mattered, and she did the same.

"Protect your wife well enough, and it won't come to that."

Winter had changed into more appropriate clothes for the night, staying in her tent and away from all the noise outside. Nadine kept her fire going, and arranged her things. Winter kept her saber and the other girl close, under her pillow or sometimes in her lap. She made one or two defensive glyphs when she heard tribesmen stalking outside her tent, though no one came closer than that.

Ever since she arrived, they'd been rowdy. Singing, fighting, drinking. If this continued all night, she'd be one tired bride for her wedding tomorrow. She could handle being tired, maybe that would ease her fear.

Surrounded by savages and Faunus, with only a handmaid who was still too frightened to speak to her freely. The party Winter had traveled with would go back to Atlas by the morning, the trade was complete. If she could ask anything of her husband, it would be to send her maid back home, too. Men here would tear a scared girl like Nadine to shreds if she gave them the chance. Winter knew she would have to do more than a few unpleasant things, but she would not be lost to these people.

Winter darted across her bed to Shattered Ice when the entrance to her tent swished open. She kept the blade hidden, but kept her grip on the hilt as Qrow Branwen let himself into her space. He stopped right before the opening, greatsword sitting on his lower back. Winter realized she was wrong before, he wasn't lanky, but lean. Up closer he was filled out, a strong jaw and soft eyes. A simple ring on one finger and a band around his wrist. He looked back, almost hesitant, before stepping further into the tent.

Winter forgot about her noticings tightened her grip on her weapon. "We're not married yet."

Qrow scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Didn't come here for that." His reassurance was as surprising as his actual voice. Grough, almost like it belonged to an older man, so different from his sister. Still, Winter held onto Shattered Ice, Qrow looked around her tent. None of her other trunks had been opened, and nothing else in the space had even been touched. Nadine made a small place for herself in the corner, which Qrow frowned at when he saw. "You can't have slaves here."

Winter looked to Nadine, then back at him. "She's not a slave." Winter sat up in the bed, fixing her posture when Qrow raised an eye in doubt. "She's a handmaid."

"Can you do anything yourself?" His tone was lined with condescension.

"Yes." Winter deadpanned, allowing some of her disgust to show in her tone. She flinched when another shout came from outside her tent, this time much closer than any before.

Qrow scoffed again, this time a little laugh came with it. "You're welcome to join them, you know. It is our celebration."

Winter cleared her throat, straightening her back and keeping her sights on the entrance to her hut. "I think not."

"You know, it might be easier for both of us if you didn't think so lowly of us." She snapped her eyes back to Qrow, expecting the same sarcasm as before, but in his eyes she only saw sincerity. Immediately she distrusted the sentiment, but he held her gaze all the same. "I didn't want this either."

Winter gritted her teeth, forgetting that this might be the only place she wouldn't be scolded for it. He had no idea what he was talking about. He wasn't dragged from his home, his entire family, no matter how cold they might be. Weiss would grow up without her sister, her mother alone with her father - who knows how cruel he'll be after such a defeat. To be forced into a whole other kingdom, surrounded by those who'd rather murder her, consequences or no.

She'd never find her own path, not as a Schnee and not as herself. Marriage could mean everything in Atlas, who you're with decides your status, where you'll go, what you can do, how others see you. Here, it was nothing to them. Qrow Branwen would say a few words under their stupid sky, and forget about her in the morning if he pleased. He didn't want this? It didn't matter to him in any way.

Winter clenched her jaw and felt her stomach twist. She knotted her hands in the fur blanket beneath her, forgetting every warning she was given about angering any of these people here. "I don't care what you want."

With a frown he parted his lips to say something, but apparently thought better of it. Qrow sighed, nodded once, and backed out of her tent. Winter relaxed in the bed, letting out a breath and closing her eyes. At the very least, if she's unhappy, he would be at well.

A/N: Thank you so much again for reading, I surely hope you enjoy! Reviews are always valued, appreciated, and encouraging!