Chapter Fourteen

Ozpin woke with a shiver from the breeze. A glance at the window had him wondering how he'd slept in so late. It was noon time. But then he looked the other way and saw Qrow above him, smiling and admiring him.

"Hey," he said rakishly, a hand reaching out to caress Ozpin's bare chest.

It all came rushing back and Ozpin was absolutely certain he was smiling like an idiot and he let out a huff. He pushed himself up to kiss his dusty crowmaster. "I believe I forgot to give you a proper courting poem," he said. "How scandalous."

Qrow lazily kissed him back, hands wandering in an unasked question. "I'd be cursed if I changed anything that just happened."

Cursed….

Isolation and misery.

All color drained from Ozpin's face and he sat up in a rush, nearly knocking heads with Qrow. "The curse…." he gasped.

"Oz? Hey, you alright?"

"That's the problem," Oz groaned. "I'm happy. It always happens when I'm happy…"

"Uh, you're going to have to explain that one, Oz."

Emotion was choking at Ozpin, and he didn't know what to do, his breath was coming in faster and faster. "The Grimm," he said between gulps of air. "Brothers... it will trigger…." Why was breathing so difficult, he needed to explain…! He started to shake, emotion welling up and forcing its way through his veins, the panic clouding his thoughts.

Qrow held him close and Ozpin buried himself into those strong, warm arms, trying to catch his breath, trying to ease his mind, trying to remind himself that he'd managed to have almost two years of happiness with Oscar without the Grimm triggering, certainly, he could have happiness with Qrow as well? It had to be enough, it had to be enough, surely Qrow would not cause his cup to run over…?

Isolation and misery.

He gulped down air because oh brothers this was going to be bad.

"It's okay, Oz. It's okay…"

Qrow's large hand rubbed up and down Ozpin's bare back and he pushed everything else out of his mind to focus on that. Eventually, he was able to take a breath without the overwhelming panic trying to overtake him, and he pulled back enough to watch Qrow through his tears. "Unfortunately," he said. "We need to talk."

Qrow's face was trying to hide worry. "Sure thing. I'll, uh, get some tea going?"

"Yes," Ozpin nodded, focusing on trying to keep his breathing steady. "You deserve to know what's about to happen." He glanced around. "Ah, might I also have my cane?"

Sheepishly, Qrow rubbed the back of his head. "Ah, yeah." He got up, without a stitch of clothing, and went to the front of the apartment and came back with the cane and various clothes that had been shed before going back beyond the privacy screen to get the kettle going.

Ozpin let out a controlled sigh, his heart heavy and the panic trying to break through again. He cleaned himself up and pulled off the sheets and dumped them into the washbasin. He paced, back and forth, back and forth, trying to give the anxiety something to burn through, trying to keep his head straight, trying to figure out how to tell Qrow about all of his fear. His eyes drifted to the bookshelves, scanning the spines for a moment and pulling out one of them. In the front of the apartment, Qrow was also dressed, if a bit more haphazardly, his haori still wide open and exposing his bare chest.

Ozpin set the book on the desk, limped over to Qrow, and held his hand.

"I love you," he repeated. "I love you very much."

"Careful there, Oz, you're going to give a guy hope," Qrow replied, wrapping his arms around Ozpin's waist. "Normally after a good tumble like that, if someone says we 'need to talk', that's a very bad thing."

Ozpin had no idea how to answer. Salem, Autumn, Gretchen… He pressed his lips together.

The kettle started to whistle and they pulled apart. Ozpin sat at his desk, flipping through the book for the entry he was looking for and set it aside before seeing it unleashed his panic again.

"I am under a curse," Ozpin said heavily while Qrow poured tea into the teapot and set it aside to steep. "A curse of isolation and misery. Every time I get a chance to be happy, the curse triggers to push me to isolation and misery."

"Okay," Qrow said, looking confused. "I'm sure it feels that way…"

Ozpin held up a hand, needing Qrow to understand. His breath started to shorten and he closed his eyes and focused on long deep inhales. "Please, I am not being hyperbolic. I am likely understating it. Much of it is difficult to talk about, I can never find the words. You know my lack of a romantic history."

"Yeah," Qrow said slowly.

"Their failures was likely triggered by my curse. Beacon burning, backbreaker, soothsayers being used by the Emperor, all have been a result of my not being alone and miserable. I have been cursed under a Grimm by a soothmaker."

Qrow blinked. "Soothmaker?" He poured the tea and stepped over to give Ozpin a cup. Oz handed over the book.

"A soothsayer, when dealing with the future, must always use guidance. We must never promise. A person's future is always a person's choice. They choose their own path. If a person seeks out a soothsayer, they are asking for guidance. We can't make their choices for them. All we can do is guide. 'If' is the most important word in a sayer's diction. But if we say that something will be instead of something might be, we become soothmakers and the Grimm appears."

Ozpin let Qrow read the book. He focused on slow, steady breaths and small sips of the tea, trying to savor the taste and not let panic overtake him. He wanted to pace again, give the fear something to do, but more so he wanted Qrow at eye level, to make him understand. The entry he'd given to Qrow was perhaps the most detailed definition of soothmaking in any of the books he had. Another deep breath. Another sip of tea.

Qrow read the entry in a slow, laborious pace. He glanced up more than once, incredulous as he realized a word or finished a sentence. When he finished he looked up, eyebrows disappearing into his messy, tussled bangs. "You can't think this is real?" he asked, incredulous.

"Yes," Ozpin said heavily. "The Grimm I have been cursed with has these two patterns." He grabbed the slate off his desk for whenever he needed to jot something down and, with a sad ease of memory, copied down the Grimm over him.

"That's a lot more angular than the patterns I've seen you do," Qrow said.

"That's because a Grimm isn't natural. My life will never again be on the path that I was likely to have followed." He pointed to the two patterns in the mask of the creature. "Isolation and misery. This has been my curse for twenty years."

"Twenty years?"

He nodded. "Ask Oscar for the details… I can't speak of them… it's too… painful. For almost two years now, I chose a path that was neither my likely original, nor the Grimm. I found Oscar. That was the one and only part of my life where I was happy."

Ozpin looked right into Qrow's eyes.

"And now I've found happiness in you." He waited, watched Qrow put the pieces together and understand what Ozpin was saying. He was not a soothsayer, however, his understanding of the art was less than limited. Magic wasn't real for him, not the way it was for Ozpin and Oscar. Qrow connected the dots but couldn't see the picture. "Something will happen now," Ozpin explained, "something triggered by the Grimm. Last time was the backbreaker fever. I barely survived."

Qrow looked at him, eyes wide. "No," he said firmly. "That's a lot of filthy nonsense. Nothing's gonna happen, and if it does I won't let that happen. Fye and filth, Oz, I don't know anything about soothsaying, but that's too much to swallow. I sure as filth am not going to lose you. I love you too, damn it."

Ozpin's heart glowed despite everything.

He wondered how much time he had left.

"You need to know that I love you," Ozpin replied. "I want to be with you. I want…"

He wanted so much. He wanted to keep teaching Oscar. He wanted to watch him graduate. He wanted to spend more and more time with Qrow. He wanted the war to end. He wanted to go home to Vale with his family by his side.

He took a deep breath. "If anything happens," he said softly, "you need to understand… Qrow you would be the man to think it was all your fault, to spiral down the path of self destruction and recrimination. It won't be your fault, it will be mine. Mine and my curse's fault."

"Oz…"

Oz leaned forward and hugged Qrow as tightly as he could. Then he kissed him with all that love he had, running his hands into that graying hair, not knowing how else to make it clear.

"I would like you here when Oscar gets home," he whispered, panic starting to trace up his spine again. "You both need to be prepared."

Qrow held him close. "Whatever you need, Oz," he replied. "We'll figure this out."

That was a nice sentiment.

To Oscar's surprise, when he opened the door in the early evening after finally getting home from a long day running around the city, his view of the apartments was blocked by sheets hanging from the ceiling to dry. Ozpin did the sheets as well with the laundry? Oh, that was going to be so nice this evening!

"I'm home," he said, sliding by the sheets.

As another surprise, he found Ozpin sitting in his usual leather chair, struggling to breath as Qrow knelt beside him, holding him and rubbing his back.

"Oz!"

Rushing forward, he set his bags down and knelt next to Qrow, wondering what had happened and then he was pulled into a fierce hug with Qrow as Ozpin pulled them both as close as he could. Oscar hugged back just as hard, offering whatever silent support he could. Qrow, beside him, was offering all sorts of comforting words.

After a few moments, Ozpin sat back, pulled Oscar in close to kiss the top of his head, then, to Oscar's surprise, pulled Qrow in to kiss him right on the mouth.

Oscar gave a flat stare to Qrow. "Did you stop pretending to be subtle?" he demanded.

That actually surprised a somewhat broken laugh out of his father and Brothers, Qrow looked unbearably smug for a moment.

"Unfortunately," Ozpin said shakily, "I believe that I've just triggered the Grimm."

Oscar's jaw dropped and he gasped. "What? No! Not again!"

"Today," Ozpin said, "I realized that I'm in love with Qrow. That goes against the Isolation and Misery."

Oscar sat back on his heels, and just like Ozpin had been struggling breathing, now Oscar could feel his breath start to shorten. "Fye and filth," he cussed. "Fye and filth! Now what? Do we know how long?"

"You saw the patterns, they are tightening. Every trigger, the effects get stronger and stronger."

"Filth!"

"Come on," Qrow interjected, "it can't be that bad."

Ozpin leaned forward, gently kissing Qrow. "If only that were true," he murmured. "Oscar. You've seen the patterns. I can't… To talk about Beacon, or the university here at Haven, or the backbreaker… I…"

Oscar nodded.

"Thank you. I suppose I'll get dinner started." Ozpin shakily stood and grabbed the bags Oscar brought in, bringing them to the table by the stove.

Oscar took the vacated seat and just buried his head in his hands for a moment. "Brothers curse the maker," he groaned.

"Listen, kid," Qrow said, dragging a stool over. "I'm just a muscle guy. I'm a layman. Oz has been trying to explain this soothsaying filth all day, but I'm just not getting it. Magic can't really be a thing."

"Didn't you see his eyes when he gave you that reading?" he asked.

"I was looking at the sand, pipsqueak."

Oscar rolled his eyes and remembered one of Ozpin's lessons and looked to Qrow directly. "Look at my eyes for a moment," he said. Then he opened his magic, feeling that hum in his blood, that connection to the world, to life, to patterns. He kept his mind carefully blank, not focusing on any question, just watching Qrow.

"Fye and filth, what?" Qrow sat back, surprised, and Oscar let out a breath and closed his magic. "Your eyes were glowing gold. What the hell was that?"

"Magic," Oscar said flatly. "Everyone, everything in this world has magic. The herbs and flowers we use for the basin, it's charging the magic of the basin. People who have enough magic can use it to see the patterns of things. Oz gave you a reading, you saw that it works, right?"

"Filth, something happened, but…" Qrow looked so confused. "You're telling me magic is real?"

"Yes."

"Fye and filth, that's a lot to take in…" Qrow ran a hand through his hair, trying to understand.

"Well you're going to have to take it in quickly," Oscar said, fear crawling up his spine. "Did Oz explain what a soothmaker is?"

"He gave me a book," Qrow replied, "that I could barely read. I get that it's some sort of soothsaying taboo?"

"Taboo would be an understatement," Ozpin said, coming over and giving them each a small cut of bread that had to have been baked earlier. "It is a defilement of what a soothsayer is and history is littered with examples."

"Yeah," Oscar nodded. "If we were at the office, I could pull out some of the historical texts. I've been digging through them trying to learn more about makers."

His father ran a hand through his hair. "I've been searching since my master died. Alas, I haven't found anything yet that may be of help."

Oscar gave a flat frown. "I have fresh eyes."

"Back up," Qrow said. "I'm still lost. So this maker person has a grudge and did some fancy magic filth. Can't you just undo it?"

Oscar shook his head and Ozpin grimaced, heading back to the table and putting a log on the stove.

"We can't without becoming makers ourselves," Oscar explained.

Qrow shook his head. "How do you even know something will happen? Neither of you have that fancy reader here to do your readings."

"Tell him about my life, Oscar," Ozpin said softly, putting a skillet onto the stove. "Especially right now, I just don't have the strength to."

"Kid?" Qrow asked, clearly confused.

"Ozpin had me do a few readings a couple of weeks ago," Oscar said, anxiety crawling through his skin. "It was a lot." And he haltingly started to explain. Qrow listened, cussing on occasion, and shaking his head. Ozpin set something onto the stove and started taking down the laundry and folding it through the explanation, sometimes coming over to put a comforting hand on Oscar's shoulder.

Oscar felt his eyes mist. Because here he was, explaining all the horror his father had been through, and Ozpin was offering him comfort.

Finally, Oscar finished, sitting back, and rubbing at his eyes. "If I had the readings from the office, I could point out all the patterns."

Qrow was clearly still trying to absorb all of this, looking skeptical, but he wasn't leaving.

"A lot of this I'm just not getting," Qrow said finally.

Oscar winced, and he saw Ozpin, behind Qrow, just hurt.

Qrow continued, "I get that a maker did a thing. Why not just take out the maker?"

"I never learned who bears me such ill will," Ozpin said softly. "And I don't exactly condone murder."

The crowmaster shook his head. "Not murder; look, I grew up on the streets with my sister. There are times you have to show you won't be intimidated. Usually that means you rough them up, give them a bloody nose and mouth and remind them you're not prey. Just, I don't know, find this maker person and break their legs. Let them know not to mess with you."

Oscar gave a small, off-sounding chuckle. "But the curse would still be active. It would still manifest. And that's our most immediate concern."

Ozpin stepped over to Qrow, and leaned over to hug him from behind. Oscar watched Qrow flush, before turning to kiss Ozpin.

"We'll figure something out," Qrow said. "Everything will be fine."

Oscar let out a frustrated sigh. "Just… can you come over tomorrow? At lunchtime or something? I can show you the patterns and try to explain this more…"

"Look, I get that this is big. But I'm just a drunk ass. I'm not leaving just because someone's got a hate grudge for you."

There was a knock at the door and Oscar went for it while Ozpin leaned over to say something.

"Uncle Qrowwww! You've been gone all day and now Yang and I are cooking dinner alone!"

Ruby was at the door, but her silver eyes suddenly blinked. Oscar looked back to find that Qrow was standing, kissing Ozpin hard.

"Uncle Qrow!" Ruby laughed. "Please tell me you've written a courting poem!"

Qrow pulled away unhappily. "Shut up, pipsqueak!" he growled. "I need a minute here!"

"More like an hour!" Ruby chirped. "Should Oscar come upstairs and eat with me and Yang?"

Oscar's face must be beet red, and this was not the time! "Ruby," he hissed.

"No need," Ozpin said with complete mischievous cheer. But Oscar could see the tightness of his eyes. "Qrow will be joining me for a lunch date tomorrow."

"Oz!"

"Oooh! Uncle Qrow, I didn't know you had it in you! Way to score!"

"Oh brothers," Oscar groaned.

"Don't worry, Oscar," Ruby said brightly, "Tomorrow's the first, I'm sure you'll be out paying invoices. And I'm sure Uncle Qrow and the Professor would love to have some alone time."

"Ruby," Qrow shouted. "That's enough!"

"Oh, uh… too much?"

Qrow rolled his eyes. "I'll come tomorrow and we'll figure this out."

Oscar sadly shook his head.

Once they were gone, Ozpin pulled Oscar in for a warm, loving hug. Oscar held on for as long as he could.

Ozpin couldn't concentrate. It was the first of the month, the day for invoices and supply orders, no clients outside of the occasional walk-in. Oscar was dutifully going through the ledgers to balance them, Ozpin was sorting through payments for the bank and noting the regular clients who hadn't paid yet.

Well, that's what he was supposed to be doing.

More than once he caught himself staring blankly at a wall or out the window, his heart conflicted. His eyes would trail to Oscar, also working slower than usual, his hazel eyes drifting over to Ozpin with intense concern.

He never meant to frighten his son. He never meant to involve Qrow. He never meant… He shook his head. It didn't matter now.

His heart was conflicted: he was so happy. He had a son he loved more than life itself, compassionate and sensitive, smart and quick, gifted with soothsaying. He had a lover now, the first time in his life he had ever managed to make it that far, with a man he respected for conquering his demons and loved for his open acknowledgements of his own shortcomings. Oscar and Qrow were, without question, the best things that had ever happened to him since the Grimm had been set on him. The isolation and misery had lifted, he had family, a friend and lover both, a son who meant the world to him.

But that happiness brought fear, anxiety. So many times in his life he would have a glimpse of happiness, a chance at love, and it would be swept away with tragedy. He had shown Oscar the worst triggers of the Grimm, but there were others, moments when an apprentice was a close friend, or a fellow professor peeking Ozpin's interest. Inevitably something happened, called away to a different country, suddenly transferred to a different university, sometimes just disappearing with no explanation.

To be so happy… it was a matter of time before the curse manifested again and ate his joy. And if it ate Oscar and Qrow… Ozpin would not survive the loss, even if he survived whatever accident or tragedy befell him.

He shook his head again, lips pressing into a thin line. That was the way to a very dark place, and he should not visit it or linger on that trail. He was happy. That had to be enough. He would cherish it for as long as he could. Ozpin held his family close, swore he would tell them every day he loved them, shower them with smiles and kindness. They deserved no less for trying to attach themselves to someone as cursed as he.

"I'm sorry," he told his son, catching another concerned frown. "Perhaps I should never have said anything."

"No," Oscar said, straightening and pushing the ledgers to the side. "I think you did the right thing. It's just… it's a lot to take in. I'm still not sure Qrow really understands it. He doesn't get soothsaying the way we do."

"That's to be expected," Ozpin said. "Magic is the realm of superstition, no sane man would believe it. That he's even still here…"

Ozpin still couldn't get over it, couldn't express how relieved he was that Qrow, incredulity and all, still vowed to stay in his life. He didn't write him off as insane, or delusional. He was not angry, or accusatory. He was confused, and skeptical, but he respected that Ozpin and Oscar were upset by it all, and he did what it seemed he always did. He was there, his presence guarding against the fear.

"Well," Oscar said, shifting in his seat. "Love does that to you, right? You stick by the people you love, and you help them however you can."

Ozpin smiled. "You are wise beyond your years, Oscar. I don't know how I got so lucky."

Oscar shrugged. "You're the one who chose to be my father," he said. "I guess it had to rub off eventually."

Love glowed in his chest, and he smiled, reaching across the front desk to pat his son's arm. He pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. "Lunch should be ready soon," he said. "Do you want to go downstairs and pick it up, stretch your legs?"

"Qrow said he was coming by, we can have him bring it up," Oscar replied.

"Perhaps, but Qrow does not always have a keen sense of time."

Oscar snorted. "Noted," he said, getting up and stretching. He moved around the desk and hesitated. "You… You'll be okay here alone?" he asked.

Ozpin smiled. "A few minutes should be fine," he said gently.

With a nod Oscar left, his steps pattering down the hall to the stairwell. Ozpin also stood, stretching himself and rolling around the ankle of his bad leg. He should probably use the toilet at the end of the hall now while he could.

When he returned he saw Leo leaving his office. "Oh, there you are!" he said brightly. "You had a walk-in milling at your door. I just let her in. Your boy getting lunch?"

"Yes," Ozpin said. "Thank you for the help, I'll take it from here."

"Hey, have a good lunch," Leo said brightly. "You two were so dour when you came in, it drags the rest of us down."

Ozpin smiled, shaking his head. "Thank you, Leo. For being such a good friend."

Leo passed him to go down to his office, and Ozpin opened the door to his own, putting on his professional face. "Hello and wel-"

He froze, the short woman leaning over the front desk and looking at the ledgers. She turned and lifted her gaze; black blouse, black split skirt, silver hair pulled up in a Mistralan bun. Red eyes. It couldn't be…

"... Salem?"

She smiled, soft and loving. "Ozpin," she said softly.

"You're alive…!" He limped across the front room, reaching out in shock and grabbing her shoulder, eyes drinking in everything. "You're alive…!" He couldn't believe it, staring and staring, shocked to see his sister. The old pain flared, but it bled away to surprise, happiness. He pulled her into a tight hug, elation bubbling up in him. "I thought you were dead!" he said. "After the fire… how did you survive… where have you been… look at you!" he said with a happy burst of laughter, pulling back and taking it all in. "Look at you! Oh, I can't wait to tell everyone… You are a true blessing of good fortune, you've no idea…! Where are my manners, sit, sit! Tell me how you survived, where you've been, what you've been doing…"

Salem's smile was serene, letting Ozpin settle her in one of the font chairs, Ozpin taking the other. Her eyes roved around the office, taking in the chalkboard schedule, the coat rack, the wall to wall shelves of files and books and records before finally settling on Ozpin.

"It's been a long time," she said gently.

"It has. So long. I thought you were dead, I mourned for so long. How did you survive the fire?"

"I wasn't there," she said easily, with a casual shrug of the shoulders. "After everything you said I left, I was too hurt to stay there."

"Oh, Salem," Ozpin said, leaning forward and touching her knee. "I'm so sorry about that fight. I grieved that those were our last words to each other. I want you to know I love you - nothing has changed that. I know our master's favor upset you, I understand that now as I didn't then, but please believe me when I say it didn't change anything between us."

"Of course," Salem said, her placid smile never changing. "And I forgive you the things you said. I've grown since the fire."

"Have you?" Ozpin asked brightly. "I can only imagine, of course. Did you set up practice somewhere?"

"I've been just about everywhere," Salem said smoothly, crossing one leg over the other. "I've tried my hand at being a wandering soothsayer, like in the olden days."

"How wonderful!" Ozpin said, intrigued. "Do you still use a sand reader, then, or do you use something else?"

"I've crafted a smaller sand basin," she said with serene pride. "Nothing like that heavy monstrosity the king used. It doesn't use green sapphire, I've found a stone even more powerful to direct the magic."

Ozpin admitted to himself that calling the sand reader now resting in the other room a monstrosity stung, but there was no way she could know the reader survived the fire and he let it go, still so happy to see her. He listened in rapt attention, soaking in the serene smile, the quiet confidence.

"I saw how successful you've been," she said in smooth tones. "Six new patterns, was it? And of course all those dissertations and papers. You're living the life you've always wanted."

Ozpin shook his head, leaning back. "Not the way you think," he said softly. "You saw the Grimm at my final reading. It rears its head over and over. Life… it's been very hard."

"Oh, I can hardly imagine," Salem said, something in her voice changing. "All that publicity, all that recognition, all that power."

He flashed back to the night of the fire, the bitter, resentful accusations Salem had made, the hateful words. The echo was too distinct, and he realized that in their time apart, as much as he had changed, perhaps she had not. He tried to cut it off at the pass. "The Grimm, the two patterns on the curse were isolation and misery, did you know that?" he asked. A placid nod. "They come up, again and again. I've lost… People have…" He lost his words, unsure how much to say - he hadn't seen Salem in over twenty years, he didn't know how to express the pain. "I thought the Grimm had triggered... the night of the fire," he said. "We had such a terrible fight, and then the bombing, and then the fire. The chieftains kept expecting me to soothsay the destabilization, they didn't understand that I couldn't make the outcome they were looking for. I was mourning you, Beacon wasn't safe anymore, the fear of the next outbreak and attack… The emotional toll was too much, and I couldn't stay in Vale any more.

"I tried to work at Haven, but as I found success I found the Grimm, too. I've lost apprentices, my standing at the university. I contracted backbreaker during the Lost Summer, I nearly died. When I'd recovered there was no work for me at university, nothing for me to return to. I lost…" he shook his head, unable to articulate it all.

"Is that why you stopped publishing?" she asked, the barest hint of concern. She brushed invisible dust off her black skirt.

"Yes, I haven't been to university in years. I work here now."

"Hm," Salem drawled, leaning back and tracing a finger down her cheek. "And how have things been here?"

"It's been lonely for a long time," Ozpin said, his voice wistful. "I miss teaching, giving light to so many eager minds." Those days were gone, and he had a new life here. "But you're here now," he said with a smile. "If you lived through the fire, then maybe the Grimm isn't as powerful as I surmised. Salem, I've been so frightful of the curse triggering again, but with you here, then perhaps it has finally eaten itself out, and the spiral has finally ended."

"Are you happy, then?" she asked. "Here in this tiny office?"

Ozpin smiled. "Yes," he said.

The placid serenity shifted, then, something darker spreading on her face and her smile disappearing. "Here?" she asked, a sweeping gesture of her delicate hand. "In this cramped space you have found happiness? With a disfigured leg, a cane to limp through life? How many clients do you even have? I notice you have no names on your schedule. Soothsayers are scorned, how are you even living?"

Ozpin pursed his lips, leaning forward. "Happiness isn't just money, Salem," he said softly. "I had money at Haven, but I was not happy there. I've been living off my savings and the clients I have here. Day to day is a struggle, to be sure, winter is a hungry time for everyone in this borough and summer heat strikes me down every year - but that does not mean I am not content."

She looked at him, completely closed off, the pause drawing out and prickling along Ozpin's senses until at last she stood to her full height, looking down on him.

"Look at how you've diminished," she said, "How you've lessened yourself." She stepped forward, placid but now contemptuous. " 'The greatest soothsayer of the generation,' " she said. "That's what that old bastard called you, over and over and over again, without once seeing me next to you. In spite of everything, you kept getting that praise - did you know after you ran away all of Vale wished you had stayed, that you had been too valuable to let go? Your publications were all anyone talked about in Vacuo, what new pattern would you discover? Atlas had a general wrapped around your finger. No matter how much I tried you kept crawling back to power. I read that pamphlet you published during the Lost Summer, it reached all four countries. And now here you sit, a helpless gimp scraping by on savings and scraps - and still you say you're happy."

Ozpin leaned back as she leaned forward, towering over him, struggling to keep up with the words.

"I'm so sorry you feel that way," he said, trying to ease his lost sister. "I'm sorry you think-"

"I don't think, I know," Salem said, leaning into his personal space, face inches from his. "You don't deserve to be happy. You deserve to be alone and miserable."

… oh, brothers…

"The soothmaker," he said, eyes doubling as he realized the awful truth. "The one who cursed me. That was… you?"

"Brother of Darkness you are so oblivious it hurts," Salem said, straightening and putting her hands on her hips.

"But… you were dead…" he shook his head, trying to catch up, trying to understand. "Why…?"

"Why?" she repeated with a derisive snort, turning away and moving to the filing shelves. "Why? Because you owed me! You held me back for years during our apprenticeship! The mighty King of Vale, the greatest soothsayer of the kingdom, spending his time on you when I was so much more powerful. I learned everything you did faster, better. I was smarter, more accurate, more open to giving people what they wanted. All that talk about 'truth they need to hear,' it was just sophistry to avoid telling the hard facts. People never want to hear the truth, they never want to hear what actually is going to happen to them, they want to hear what they want to hear. That's the difference between us. I give the people what they want."

Ozpin stood, reeling, dizzy with revelation. "Salem," he said, "That's making!"

She rolled her eyes, hands on her hips. "And what's wrong with making?" she countered, voice full of contempt. "It doesn't hurt anyone, and it gets people what they want."

"That's the realm of the gods!" Ozpin decried, horrified. "They will take their pound of flesh for such actions and not care whose flesh is harvested!"

And Salem smiled, serene again, placid and confident and so, so condescending. "Good thing there's a war going on, then, isn't there?"

Brothers of Light and Dark… the war was the price of his curse?!

"Why… why are you telling me this? Why are you even here?"

"Because I have a question," Salem said, pulling out a small concave disk and attaching a miniature fulcrum to it. The stone base was marble, and the inlay a darker stone Ozpin couldn't immediately identify. The fulcrum was brass, not the usual copper, and the sand wasn't sand, it was something black and with the texture of sand. He stared in fascination as she placed two fingers on the fulcrum. "Why. Do. You. Keep. Coming. Back?" she demanded, voice low, hard, hateful.

Ozpin watched as the fulcrum moved, making tiny swirls in the black sand, creating a small, simple pattern:

Choice.

He stared, confused as his eyes drifted back up to hateful red, a thin frown pulling at her lips. A shake of her wrist and the sand cleared in the miniature basin. "You see?" she said, spite dripping from her voice. "You refuse to roll over and accept your fate. You were always so resentful of my power, and even now you won't let me step out of your shadow."

Ozpin… he was past any rational thought now. Too much had happened, too much had been said, too much had been revealed. His sister was not as he knew her - perhaps he never knew her at all. But now he saw the truth, and more importantly he saw the danger. He saw what he had to do, and it burned; deep inside him. He hurt to know all of this, and he hurt to do this to his sister. He struggled, fighting with himself to do the right thing.

But he did. He took in a shaky breath, saw her waiting for his next words. His heart broke.

"The general will deal with you," he said, voice as shaky as his insides. He left his office, moved to the stairs. He hated himself, hated that he would have to turn his sister in, but the war had to stop, and the pain had to end, and willful ignorance or not James used to be his friend. He had heard him talk about soothmakers, he would know the danger Salem was.

"'Professor'!" Salem said, following him down the hall, faster than he and catching up easily.

"No," Ozpin said, shaking his head as he entered the stairwell. "There is nothing more to say."

"Do you have a lover?" she asked, and Ozpin froze, turning around. Her serene smile was back, and she reached up to caress his cheek, a trickle of sweat sliding down his brow. Qrow… Oscar… "I see that you do," she said. "Good. They will suffer, too."

Then she pushed, smiling to watch him fall.

There was turning, spinning, fumbling to make it stop, but then his head cracked against the metal bench at the turn of the stairs and he knew nothing after that.

Author's Notes: Here's some angst for the holidays! For obvious reasons we're not going to be online tomorrow so here's our holiday gift a day early!

... is this a twist? Some of the commenters on AO3 made us wonder if nobody saw this coming. We have no idea, because to us this was always obvious and always the end goal. Qrow and Oscar in particular have maybe half a second to understand that something bad is about to happen and then this. Qrow still doesn't get it, he doesn't live in a world of magic and he's not really the esoteric type. Oscar is slightly better prepared but even he doesn't understand how how badly this is about to go. Not really much else to say here. The second arc is now closed and we can move to the third arc. Speaking of:

Next chapter: Oscar and Qrow find Oz.