A New War - A Gundam RWBY reader Insert

Y/n and Char: Weiss (4K Special)

Evening. A quiet corner of Vale. The streets are lit by warm lanterns and the faint hum of live music. A wooden sign swings slightly above the door: "The Rusted Note."

Weiss: This is...it?

Char: The Rusted Note. Humble, warm, and mercifully quiet.

Weiss: It looks like it's falling apart.

Y/n: It's got character. Besides, that's kind of the appeal. No suits, no pressure—just a good spot to be human for a while.

Weiss: I don't usually make a habit of stepping into places that don't clean their windows.

Char: You don't usually step into any place unless it has a doorman and a chandelier.

Y/n: And yet here you are.

Weiss: sighs Against my better judgment.

Y/n: That's progress.

The door creaks open, letting out a wave of warmth, low chatter, and the soothing melody of piano and violin. Inside, the tavern is cozy—worn wooden floors, soft lighting, the scent of spiced cider in the air. A small live duo plays in the corner, their music weaving gently through the tables. No one looks up as the three enter.

Y/n: This way.

They settle into a booth near the back wall, the seats worn smooth from years of quiet nights. Weiss sits stiffly at first, unsure of the atmosphere.

Weiss: No menus?

Y/n: Just ask for what you want. The server's friendly. Honest.

Char: You'll live, Weiss.

Weiss: That's a bold assumption.

A server arrives. Y/n and Char order without hesitation. Weiss, after a pause, follows suit. Minutes later, their drinks arrive. Weiss eyes hers suspiciously and takes a sip. Instantly, she coughs.

Weiss: coughing What is in this?!

Y/n: Local honey blend, little spice, little kick and non alcoholic. Not bad, right?

Weiss: Not bad?! It feels like it tried to slap me.

Char: At least it slapped you with flavor.

Y/n laughs, and even Char shows the faintest smirk. Weiss scowls—but only a little. Time passes. The music continues, the tavern easing into a low murmur of comfort. Weiss relaxes—just barely. Her arms unfold, shoulders lower, posture softens.

Weiss: This place is strange. No one's watching. No one's judging.

Y/n: That's what makes it good. You get to be anonymous.

Char: And unburdened. Even if only for a night.

Weiss: I'm not sure I know how to be unburdened. I've always had to wear the name, carry the reputation. There's no room for... this.

Y/n: And yet, you're here. No Schnee name. No Atlas title. Just Weiss.

Char: That alone says more than you realize.

Weiss: quietly I keep thinking someone will recognize me. Say something. Treat me like the heiress.

Y/n: But no one does. That's the point.

Char: Your value doesn't vanish when the name disappears.

Weiss looks into her glass, thoughtful.

Weiss: Do you ever wonder who you'd be without the war?

Char: Every day.

Y/n: It's part of what drives us. Trying to find pieces of ourselves that the battlefield didn't claim.

Weiss: And do you think it's possible? To find them again?

Char: It's not about finding. It's about building.

Y/n: Piece by piece. Night by night. Even if all you do is sit in a dusty tavern and drink with people who get it.

Weiss gives a small, tired smile—the kind that isn't for show.

Weiss: I think I needed this more than I thought.

Y/n: You did.

Time drifts. They sit and listen to the music—the violin soft and slow, like a memory being played into the air. Eventually, the three rise and step outside. The city is quiet now, the stars bright overhead. The street glows under lantern light.

Char: Still as Vale ever gets.

Y/n: You know, it's nice seeing you like this.

Weiss: What do you mean?

Y/n: Not trying to impress anyone.

Weiss: smirking faintly Who says I'm not?

Char: If this is your idea of trying, it's significantly less exhausting.

They share a small laugh, genuine and easy.

Weiss: Maybe I'm starting to understand what you two see in places like this.

Y/n: Don't tell anyone. We've got a reputation to maintain.

Weiss: Too late. I'm already filing a report.

Char: I'll deny everything.

They walk slowly, no destination in mind—just the calm after the storm, the rare feeling of peace found between strangers who've been through too much and still choose to keep moving forward. For once, Weiss Schnee didn't feel like an heiress, or a leader, or a symbol. Just someone learning how to breathe again.

And that was enough.

A/n: As I'm writing this "A New War" Hit 5k reads. Ya'll really do like this don't ya? Well looks like I gotta get back to writing. This is a little shorter compared to the other specials due to me just writing what comes to mind as it comes to me before I lose motivation.