Final fantasy 14 should go back on sale tomorrow, and I'm planning to try and get in while the getting is good. Going to force myself not to let it influence (badly) my writing. If it has any good plot or such, I might take influence there, but I'm not going to play so much I don't write. That is the promise I make myself anyway. I don't normally get addicted to games so should be okay. Touch wood.

Cover Art: Mystery White Flame

Chapter 51

"You were glorious!"

"I wrestled with a man in an ice-cold swimming pool…"

"Gloriously!" Salem declared, practically swinging Jaune back and forth as she hugged him. He'd take to his grave the fact he appreciated both it and her compliments. "You showed the world what kind of man you are!"

Yeah, a freezing cold beach boy. Jaune could imagine it now – people across Remnant laughing at him shivering in the water and clumsily fighting both an opponent and hypothermia. Maybe that was a good thing. If people were laughing then they weren't afraid, so maybe becoming the comic relief of Salem's forces would mellow her out in the public's eyes.

Still, he wished it could have been someone else being made a fool of.

"Now all that needs to happen is you have to beat a team of two – while dodging Team RWBY – and with them being knocked out by someone else."

"Wasn't the whole point of having Tyrian train them so I would have to face off against them?"

"No!" Salem said.

"But you specifically ordered him-"

"My ways are mysterious! My plans are beyond your mortal ken! What you believe you have seen is but the first layer of an onion of schemes." Salem shook him by his lapels and stared into his eyes. "You are not to face that team of psychopaths. Am I understood?"

"No." Jaune said honestly. Salem's cheeks puffed out. "Yes?" he tried.

"Good. Good." Salem let him go, though she kept a hand on his chest. "That fool Tyrian also failed to see through my words – he's trained them too damn well. I wanted a steppingstone, not a cadre of stone-cold executioners. I wonder if there's time for him to train up a group to counter them. Yes, maybe if he were to wear a frilly red dress and black stockings, another team might mistake him for that silver-eyed girl."

"Salem, I don't think anyone is going to mistake Tyrian for a girl. No matter the amount of padding."

"Do you think?"

"There are times I can hardly recognise him as human and not some personification of stupid given flesh."

"Now, now, Tyrian is intelligent where it matters." Her brows crossed. "Sort of. He's good at killing, okay? You'd be surprised how many problems can be solved with a good murder. In fact, maybe this one-"

"No killing Team RWBY." Jaune said firmly. He held Salem's gaze until she surrendered with a sullen look to the side. "Besides, this is all part of your plan, right? Team RWBY being like this was intended by you. It's your master plan."

"Y…Yes. Of course." Salem lied blatantly, and Jaune had to resist the urge to laugh. He wasn't sure why or when he'd started being able to read her, but it sure made things a lot more fun. "W…Why would you suggest otherwise? I know exactly what I am doing. Things are right where I want them to be."

"Hmhm. Does that include me?"

"Of course. You are…" Salem looked down at her hand on his chest and then up at him. "Right where I want you to be. Where you must be."

"So I can use my Semblance to turn you back, right?"

"What…?"

"My Semblance," he reminded her. "You want to go back to being Queen of the Grimm and destroy the world or something. Wasn't that the plan?"

"Was-? Oh." Her green-blue eyes widened briefly and then flicked away, to the left. "Y…Yes. Yes, of course that's the plan. What else would it be? I want to go back to my tower. Back to the Grimmlands. Back to being…"

Queen, he supposed. "Can you at least wait a hundred years before ending the world? For my sake?"

"For your sake?"

"Yeah, so that I can die and be gone when you do it."

Cowardly? Sure, but what was he supposed to say? Besides, he wasn't all that convinced Salem could destroy anything. If she'd been alive as long as she said, then she'd had thousands of years of failing. He couldn't say he was surprised given the people she surrounded herself with, but he wasn't going to say that to her face.

"You can't die." Salem breathed out quickly. "You can't."

"Not now, obviously," he laughed. "I mean later. I'm going to grow old and die sooner or later. Everyone does."

"I won't…" she whispered.

Oh. Yeah. Immortal. Jaune winced and rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah. Well, that's good for your plans, right? Plenty of chances to get that whole conquest thing you want down." Salem did not smile, nor did she laugh. The joke fell flatter than his attempts at flirting with girls back home. "Sorry, I'm not-"

"You're going to die." Salem said. "I am not."

Did she have to make that sound so much like a threat? Jaune winced and said, "Yeah. I guess."

"That's it?" she snapped. "You guess? You will die and I will continue on existing for time immaterial, and or time immaterial, and `I guess` is all you can say?" Before he could even open his mouth to say anything at all, she rounded on her heel and presented her back to him. "Then I guess there is nothing more for me to say either!"

She stormed away, slammed the door open and burst out into the corridor. Roman made the mistake of being on the same path as her and she almost threw him out the window in her rush to get by. He sat on the windowsill, wide-eyed and with a nervous look Jaune's way. The sound of her feet continued stamping down the staircase before he heard the front door open and slam shut again.

"The hell did you do?" Roman asked.

Jaune shook his head. "I… I don't know. I thought I was saying what she wanted to hear."

"Obviously not, kid, or she wouldn't have stormed out."

Captain obvious didn't deserve a response and Jaune didn't grace him with one. What had she wanted him to say? He'd offered to turn her back just like she wanted, assuming he got control of his Semblance. He didn't think it was asking for time that upset her – he was sure she'd have spared him anyway after all this.

"Hm. It's not your fault. This time." Hazel grunted and pushed himself off the wall outside the door where he had been waiting. "You said what you thought she wanted to hear – and it's what she thought she wanted to hear as well."

"Then why is she angry? I really don't understand her."

"I don't think she understands either…"

/-/

That ungrateful, ignoble, arrogant, pig-headed, moronic, naïve, stubborn idiot of a man. Insults continued to pour through Salem's mind like wine out the neck of the bottle she was nursing on the table. The small bar was empty but for her, the bartender, a young man in a waistcoat, looking vaguely terrified as he beheld her. His bouncers, young girls in white and red, didn't look much better, and had been violently shooed away when they approached to remove her. At any other point, she might have cared enough to feel upset about that, but Jaune's… Jaune's stupid words kept bouncing around in her head.

And for all that he was a stupid, ungrateful, pathetic and all the other things combined man… he was right. He was absolutely right, wasn't he? He was mortal. He would die. That was just how the world worked.

Jaune would die and she would live on.

Again.

"Fuck the Gods," Salem slurred. It felt good to say it and she slammed the bottle down on the table hard enough to crack the edge. "FUCK THE GODS! Are you happy, you sick bastards?"

The bartender winced. "M… Ma'am…"

"Another…" Salem waved it at him.

"I think-"

"Another!"

"I think," a calm and steady voice said from behind her, "That you have had enough, Salem." The stool beside her scraped out and someone settled down into it. "Coffee, please," he said to the bartender. "And a lemon tea for the lady."

"I want wine…" she complained.

"Alcohol is not wise for someone in your condition."

"What would you know, Ozma?" Salem snarled. Did he think he could sneak up on her? Surprise her? Onions. All the onions and plans and things and stuff like that. Salem hiccupped loudly. Her old – her ex-husband was sat beside her looking all too relaxed in his green suit and with his white hair. Bastard even managed to look older than her, despite his current body being a thousandth her lifespan. And his. "What're you doing here anyway?" she slurred. "I should kill you."

"You've done so a number of times. It never does quite stick." He accepted the drinks from the barman, handed him some money and then waved him away. The bearded guy was only too happy to give them some privacy. "And I'm here because Mr Xiong alerted Beacon as to a dangerous criminal in his establishment. You're lucky I intercepted the message and not Ironwood."

"Who…?"

"General Iron-" Ozma sighed. "The penguin."

"Oh. Him. Heh." Salem giggled. "I like penguins. They waddle. Waddle-waddle heh heh…"

"They most certainly do."

Ozpin, the ever-calm bastard that he was, took a sip of his coffee and gave her that `I bought you a drink so don't turn down my hospitality` look. Asshole. Salem chugged the tea and pulled a face at how bitter it was.

"So," he said after a moment's pause. "I've not seen you this upset in quite a while. A thousand years at least. When was it again?"

"When our children died." It wasn't and that hadn't been what he meant. Ozma sucked in a sharp breath and clenched his eyes shut, and for all that she hated his fucking guts she felt a pang of guilt for having brought it up. No, for having weaponised their own children. "Fuck. Sorry… I… I'm drunk."

"It is… understandable. You're clearly in a bad mood."

"That obvious?"

"More than a little." He steadied himself, the two of them silently agreeing not to bring that up again. There were no winners to that old argument, only two monumental losers who had been forced to live with the agonising consequences of their actions. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Why?"

"I've found that it can help to get it out. To talk to someone who can offer an unbiased opinion."

Salem scoffed. "And that's you? My ex-husband and mortal enemy is an unbiased opinion?"

"I like to think I am. More than that, I'm probably the only person on this planet who can truly understand what you've been through. As you are for me. As for the other things…" He looked ahead, leaned an elbow on the counter and smiled into the distance. "I'm not sure I can love or hate you anymore. It's been such a long time. Too long."

Much too long. Salem downed her drink, downed his and then lunged over the bar to reach for a bottle. Ozma panicked and had to grip onto her waist to keep her falling over it. The posture might have looked suggestive, but for her snagging the neck of a bottle, bringing it back and stealing two glasses to pour them each some wine.

"That was reckless!" he chided.

"We need it," she shot back. "Talk like this isn't done sober."

"Hm." He took one of the glasses, let the wine swirl around for a few moments and then took a sip. A soft sigh escaped him. "You're not wrong. It'd be much too awkward otherwise. How are things?" he asked. "World conquest, Grimm and Godly curses aside."

"Eh." Salem dodged the question. "How about your end? Schools, huntsmen and all that crap aside."

"Not bad," he echoed. "I have Iron- the penguin riding my ass about you running free, and the council complaining in my ear about a memorial you fired onto my grounds that they're somehow saying is my problem to deal with. Idiots," he said, taking another drink. "I'd say democracy is overrated, but then Vacuo was a damned mess under Malik the Sunderer. Sometimes I think it's people who are overrated."

"Malik? Was that the guy we raced to kill?"

"Yes." Ozpin chuckled. "That was a strange century, wasn't it? Odd that we found someone we both hated enough to set aside our battle and get rid of."

"Yeah, and I won. My Grimm got him."

"Only because I led a rebellion that ousted him from his palace and robbed him of his guards!" Ozpin argued.

"Still got him first." Salem giggled. "He died begging like a bitch."

"Hmph. Good. But I still claim half that kill."

"Sure thing, loser."

Ozma rolled his eyes, and for a moment she could imagine she was talking with the man he once was. Until her vision cleared and she took in his pale skin tone and white hair. He'd gone back to a hairstyle not dissimilar, messy and unkempt, just as she liked it. Like Jaune's hair, her brain thought treacherously. Salem downed that thought in alcohol.

"I asked you how you were before," he said. "I answered you. Let's hear your end."

"Ugh. I'm pissed."

"I can tell."

"Not…" She glowered at his smug little smile. Asshole. "I'm angry," she said.

"At whom?"

"At that idiot Jaune! At what he said! At… At myself…" As it so often did, the alcohol turned its wicked blade inward and threatened to cut away at her. Some people were angry drunks, some clingy. Salem knew she'd always been an introspective drinker, and that wasn't the best thing to be when you had two thousand years' worth of baggage to unpack. "He doesn't think when he talks," she said. "Stupid idiot. Running his mouth, never thinking…"

"What did he say exactly?"

If it were anyone else, she wouldn't have said. No one could possibly understand – no one but Ozma. "He talked about what I should do after he grows old and dies."

"Ah…" Another drink from Ozma, along with a heavy sigh. "That old chestnut. I could never stand that either. Hard enough to know it will happen, but then they bring it up."

"At least you can die with them. I have to watch them wither."

"It feels much the same – to say nothing of when I die early and have to leave them behind. I've had a love or two lost because of that. It's… not easy to rekindle a relationship when she is forty and you are suddenly a ten-year-old child." He cringed. "And now female."

"Sorry about that one."

"Not your fault. I tripped and broke my neck on a bathtub."

Salem stared at him.

"No one is perfect," he grumbled. "The floor was slippery and I was inattentive. Most people would have just died and not had to deal with it, but I came back to a wife that couldn't love me the same way, even if I did her. It's not easy. Neither of us can have a normal relationship it seems. A curse on top of a curse."

"Unless we stick with each other."

"Even then, I don't think two people can love one another forever. It's easy to make that promise when you live less than a hundred years. Time works its spell on everyone and everything. Even us. What I once felt for you…" He sighed. "The love is a dim and distant thing, a fond memory. I don't regret having met and loved you." He hesitated. "Do you-?"

"No," she admitted gruffly. Even if she hated how it ended, she couldn't say she hated her children being born. To say she hated the happy moments would quite obviously be a lie as well.

In a sense, she couldn't hate him either. Not for lack of trying! Oh, she'd despised him for a few hundred years. Her hate had burned hot and she'd wanted nothing more than to see him pay for what she saw as his fault. And she had – multiple times. He'd made her pay too. They'd raged and warred and killed and delivered damage unto one another that had seen kingdoms rise, fall and crumble into dust.

Then there had been a few more hundred years, and a few more, and a few more on top of that – and then another ten sets of a hundred years. How could anyone keep up their passion over that long a time? She wasn't even sure when she stopped hating him as much as she had, only that one morning she'd woken up, planned her next attack and just… not felt it. If anything, she'd felt exhausted. Tired.

That hadn't stopped her attacking. It didn't stop Ozma fighting back either, killing her people as she killed his, and as more civilisations rose and fell and rose again. After a while, it became habit. Nothing more than going through the motions. She had to cling to it because she had to have something. To live eternally without a goal was… it wasn't living. She would have wasted away unto a wreck of a woman, broken and empty, sat staring at a wall as the eons passed by. Her ambition kept her going, gave her something to focus on, allowed her to pretend that her life was under her control.

Salem grimaced and glared at the drink in her hand. "I hate drunk me. I'm no fun at all."

"It's why I generally avoid it," Ozma said. "Too many bad memories to fall back on. It's a hole I struggle to climb out of every time."

"I did give you some freebies," she defended.

"I know. Queen Valeria." He smiled fondly. "You didn't attack for a hundred years. I lived a long and peaceful life. Why?" he asked. "You even let my children live."

Salem shrugged. "You looked happy. Didn't want to ruin it."

"Thank you. If I may, you look happy now…" Salem snorted and he amended his sentence. "Before, I mean. With Mr Arc. And I dare say his words would not have upset you so if he wasn't so important to you."

"To paraphrase the people now – thank you, captain obvious." Salem cheered weakly. "See? I can be down with the kids. Wooo."

Ozma chuckled. "Yes, well, the point remains. You care for the young man, and I dare say he cares for you. Few are the men who will take a bullet for a woman they dislike. I would not be above offering you the same kindness you did me back then."

"Trying to get me off your back by shacking me up with a man?"

"Trying to see someone I once loved dearly, and who I still hold some affection for, find happiness." He smiled handsomely at her. "Is that such a bad thing? You have been more alive this year than I've seen you in the last millennia. You're practically glowing, though that might have something to do with your condition. Speaking of-" He stole the bottle. "This is bad for you."

"I can't die."

"It's not your health I fear for here."

Salem grumbled, but she wasn't sure she really wanted the bottle back anyway. It kept making her miserable. "Then what do you suggest?" she asked. "Jaune is an idiot. He keeps talking about fulfilling his duty and being rid of me, then he turns around and says he wants to impress me, then he's back to talking about after he dies. What am I supposed to think?"

"Are you sure you are not confusing him as well? Us men, we're not always quick to catch onto hints."

"I gave him my favour for the tournament!" she declared. "He goes into battle with my favour. How is that not obvious?"

"Times have changed. Romance is much more… abrupt now."

"I have done my research."

"You have?"

"I have played the eroge."

"What…?"

"I have browsed the internet."

"Oh dear."

"I put my upper body in the washing machine and called for him last night, claiming I was stuck."

"Oh, good lord." Ozma's head fell into his hands.

"He pulled me out and told me to be careful, then showed me how to use the washing machine."

"In his defence," Ozma croaked weakly. "He likely believed you didn't know how to use it, seeing as it's new technology to you."

"It still is!" she declared. "Did you know it's for washing clothes in?"

"Yes. The name did somewhat imply it. What did you think-?"

"I thought it was for sex!"

"Of course you would…"

"That's what the internet suggested!" Huffing, she reached for the bottle that Ozma made dance out of her reach. "How obvious are woman nowadays? I am no charlatan, Ozma. I am a Queen. I deserve to be respected and treated as such. He has given me no poetry, no bouquets, he has not sung a song to my honour."

"Have you taken him to a karaoke bar?"

"He has done nothing!" she cried. "Nothing but make little comments, speak his mind and look at me and… and be himself. And that's enough!" she groaned, banging her head on the bar counter. "How is that enough? He's an idiot. A stupid, stubborn, unthinking, reckless, handsome, kind and chivalrous idiot."

Salem froze.

Ozma sipped his wine.

"Damn it," she muttered and banged her head on the counter again. "Damn it, damn it, damn it!"

"It's nothing to be ashamed of." Ozma slid a bar coaster under her forehead before the next strike. The asshole could have at least tried to be creative. Salem glared at him, the damp coaster sticking to her forehead. "And I dare say after so long, it's about time you found someone to feel this for. I have nothing to offer but support. As for his idiocy, embrace the times. Do away with the knightly favour and the poetry and the parades. Do as women nowadays do."

"And what do women nowadays do?"

"Well… they make their own move. Gone are the days of waiting for the man, or that you must. If you want something, take it. Or make the offer. Obviously, the choice must be his as it is yours, but I somehow doubt Mr Arc will turn you down."

"He better not!" she growled.

"Then what have you to fear? Are you not confident in your beauty?"

"Of course I'm confident!"

"Do you fear your personality lacks?"

"Never!"

"Is your body old and saggy?"

"How dare you! I am the fairest in the land!"

"Then what excuse does he have to say no?" Ozma asked. "What excuse do you have to hesitate in making your intention clear, hm?"

None. None at all. In fact, Jaune was the one being a coward. Not taking things seriously, teasing her, mocking her. Was he trying to see how far he could push her before she snapped? If so, t'was a dangerous game indeed. To play with a maiden's heart was no sport. Salem snarled and snatched the bottle, took a single swig to fortify herself and then staggered to her feet. "I'll show him!" she hissed, eyes glinting dangerously. "I'll show that knight of mine! He belongs to me, he is mine, and if he thinks he can talk of death when I'm not yet through with him, he has another thing coming!"

Salem twirled and Ozma ducked the bottle, bending athletically back in his seat as it sailed by his nose. Salem took another swig, tossed it away to shatter on the ground and charged for the door. Well, she slalomed haphazardly, at one point going so far left that she hit a table and slumped over it before she pushed back up and zig-zagged her way through the doors, opening them with her face and staggering outside.

"Jaunnnneee!" she shouted, lurching out of view with a long battle cry.

Ozma smiled and sipped his cool coffee, then raised the mug in silent salute. He wasn't sure who exactly he was wishing good luck to – Salem or Mr Arc; heavens knew the boy would need it.

"Ahem." Hei Xiong coughed from behind him. "The lady did not pay."

Ozma's smile fell. "Ah. She and I… we're not…"

Hei tapped his finger on the bill meaningfully.

Beacon's budget took another hit.

/-/

"Jaunnnnnne!"

Jaune stared down at his hand of cards – two kings; there was another on the river and he was a hair's breadth away from winning back his money from Neo – when the door slammed open. The person who fell through landed on all fours, crawled a few paces and then unfurled like a plant, staggering to their feet and lurching precariously.

Only then did Jaune recognise her. "Salem? Are you-" The smell of booze confirmed it long before he finished, "-drunk?"

"No!" she declared loudly. Very loudly. "I'm just drunk."

"I… That's what I-"

"But you!" she accused, pointing at Neo. The mute girl leaned back and pointed at herself too. "Wait, no, not you." The finger swerved until it was nudging against Jaune's nose. "You!" she yelled again. "You… You… You confusing, stupid man."

"W-Wha-?"

"Am I not obvious?"

"About what?"

"You… You…" Salem snarled and Jaune leaned even further back. She then turned to Neo. "You! You know what I'm talking about, don't you!?" In answer, Neo held up two fingers in a V-shape before her mouth and wriggled her tongue between them. Salem sniffed. "Crude, but close enough. That means it's your fault!" the finger came around and nearly clotheslined Jaune. "Enough is enough. Are you my knight?"

"Y-Yes."

"Did you accept my favour?"

Jaune glanced to his arm. He'd kept the cloth on, despite that he didn't really have to. It was a memento of sorts, and it made him feel special. "I… yeah, I did."

"Am I not a beautiful woman!?"

Blood rushed to his neck and face. That she'd just ask that out of the blue… it was totally her, no shame whatsoever. He coughed and tried to deflect it. "Well, I mean you're-"

Salem leaned in and planted her hands on his shoulders. "There are two answers only. Yes or no."

"Y…Yes," he stammered. "You're beautiful, alright? You know you are."

"I do. Of course I do." She was breathing heavily. "I am perfect. Even so, you could afford to say so when I spent time picking a new hairstyle and `glamming up` as those girls put it!"

The ponytail and the subtle shadow around her eyes. He had noticed it – and he definitely liked the look. Even so, he'd just assumed she fancied a change or was looking after herself. "That was for my sake…?"

It was, apparently, the wrong thing to ask. Salem's eyes narrowed, closed and then snapped open again. With a furious roar, she launched herself at him, knocking him and his chair back and crashing them both down onto the floor. Jaune would have cried out – tried to – but it was hard to get much out past a pair of very soft, very warm and very boozy lips on his.

She pulled back with a smack of her lips, sat straddling his hips with a heavy blush, a glazed expression and smeared lipstick. He just lay there, shocked and stiff and practically vibrating. "W-Wait," he cried. "You mean you like me…!? As in, actually like me?"

"HOW DO HUMANS CONTINUE TO PROPOGATE IF MEN ARE SO STUPID NOWADAYS!?" she screamed, pushed him down and forced her mouth onto his again. Her lips burned against his. "Is this enough?" Another kiss, hot and wet and enough to have him gasping for control. "Is this?" she demanded. "No? Then I'd best make my position abundantly clear, hadn't I? You are mine! You belong to me! You are my Knight and I am your Queen. Do you understand this yet? Am I being clear?"

He didn't really get a chance to answer. Salem didn't seem content to give him so much as a moment to gather his thoughts before she was on him again, and before he was lost with nothing to do but wrap his hands around her back and surrender to his apparent girlfriend- no, his queen's wishes.

Up above, Neo casually switched a few cards around, set down her convenient royal flush, scooped up Jaune's money and trotted gleefully away.

He wasn't in much of a position to stop her.

Wahey. Salem has finally conquered the fertile valleys of Jaune Arc. I suppose with all those tracts of land she has, she's thirsting for some more. And look, more of Ozpin being an absolute bro in my stories. But don't worry, I apparently still hate him. Just as I apparently hate Bumblebee and their shippers.

Apparently anyway. There are honestly only two ships I do not like in RWBY. Only two. Arkos – because I think it's unhealthy and that as much as Pyrrha "portrays" Jaune as someone who didn't judge her by her fame that isn't true – he literally didn't know about it. That's not the same. I don't dislike Pyrrha, more I dislike how "desperate" the relationship feels. Almost like she's settling for him. Honestly, Jaune never even appears to return or show interest in her either.

And anything related to canon Oscar. Because he's a fourteen-year-old boy with Ozpin in his head, and god damn if that isn't a creepy premise for a romance with Ruby or anyone. I'm fine with grown up Oscar. A post-canon Oscar. But I am not at all down with only just out of puberty Oscar and a grown woman. Since apparently Ruby is 16-17 by the time of Season 4. And obviously the others are 18-19.

All other ships are fine, but if I have to yuri Yang with someone I prefer Neo – those two have chemistry, and the fact Neo has joined them in canon is such a good premise for a steamy love-hate relationship. Oh yeah. Also, the height difference is great so Yang can kabedon Neo and feel super awkward because Neo barely reaches up to her elbow.

Next Chapter: 31st January

P a treon . com (slash) Coeur