Chapter Twenty-One
Midwinter Feast.
That's what it was supposed to be. Oscar was supposed to twist twine into decorative offerings for the Brothers, helping Ozpin fold old news sheets into Valean gifts for the children of the building. He was supposed to have hot chocolate…
Instead he woke up like it was any normal day. Blake had given him a warm, wool, green jacket and some kind of second-hand waistcoat to keep him warm through the winter months. The others had given up making him wear the uniform, mostly, and when he stepped out Marrow was there.
"Hey, look!" he said brightly, spinning around not in his brown-green overcoat of the Mistralan army, but the white overcoat of Atlas. "General Ironwood's taken a real shine to me!"
"Good for you," Oscar said without any joy. Seeing the white uniform made him want to turn right around and go back to bed. "I'm glad you're moving up the ranks."
Marrow shook his head, patting Oscar's shoulder as his morning crow flew in to land on the other. "Hey," he said, "I know it's hard for you; that you don't want to be here. Don't worry, the war will be over in the spring once the mountain passes clear."
"... You're really sure of that?" Oscar asked, trudging down to the stables.
"Sure I'm sure," Marrow said brightly. "Vale has no idea what's going to hit them."
"And if you find out it's Mistral citizens out there?"
"Then we free them from the Valean captors," Marrow said easily, nodding his head and puffing out his chest. "We'll be heroes that stopped the Valeans from pressing innocent farmers into doing the fighting for them! Come on, let's get you to see your master."
Oscar knew something was wrong once he and Marrow swung to the infection ward: Doctor Polendina was there in his wheelchair, adjusting his spectacles and apparently waiting for them.
"Oscar," he said, wheeling over. "Good, they said you were like clockwork, and I wanted to catch you before you stepped in."
"... what happened?" Oscar asked. He already knew though, already knew the Grimm was probably still active, even months later.
"The backbreaker finally spread," Dr. Polendina said, reaching out and touching Oscar's arm. "Even with all the draining it was only a matter of time. His fever has spiked - there's two kinds of fevers, mind. The professor's been having a low-grade fever on and off as his body was healing, that was expected, but now he's got an infection fever, that's much higher and much more dangerous - hold on, now. Breath, Oscar, breath."
Oscar couldn't. Even knowing it was coming… hearing it out loud… it had been his worst fear for months. The stories of the Lost Summer, the backbreaker, Ozpin's own recollections of it through the sand reader. His stomach bottomed out, and it felt like he was falling, or maybe drifting, far, far, away. Oz wouldn't survive a relapse, he'd almost died the first time, Oscar would be orphaned again, just like with his aunt, he was going to be alone again… Isolation and misery… did the Grimm see him, too? Was he supposed to suffer, too? Qrow had pointed out with his questions that the soothmaker didn't know he even existed, he was supposed to be safe but…
Someone was patting his back, and he looked up to see Marrow, green eyes concerned. Dr. Polendina leaning forward in his chair, hand on Oscar's knee. He was sitting down, somehow, and he had no idea when that had happened. His breathing was short, shallow, and it felt like his entire frame was shaking. He tried to settle himself, tried to get it together for Oz, but it couldn't stop. A tear escaped, and then another and another, and he tried to hide it, tried to curl into himself so the doctor and Marrow didn't see. His sobs gave him away though, and he stopped caring about them, sinking back into his head where Ozpin was not going to survive and he was going to be alone again.
When he finally came back to himself he was curled into Marrow, the soldier rubbing his big hand up and down Oscar's back. Dr. Polendina was gone. So was the crow.
Oscar straightened, rubbing his burning eyes. "I want to go home," he mumbled, knowing he sounded like a child, but Oz wasn't here to confess this to.
Marrow, at least, was sensitive. "I know," he said simply.
The silence stretched out, comfortable mostly, Oscar absolutely numb.
"Look," Marrow said. "We're kind of an hour overdue back at the palace. If you want, I can take you to see the professor later, when you're up for it."
Oscar's eyes trailed slowly to the door of the infection ward, thought about going in to see Oz. Under the numbness there was a spike of pain. "... Okay," he said.
They rode back and the gate guards grilled them obnoxiously to justify why they were late, Marrow handling it with an easy smile explaining the apprentice got some bad news and it took a while to sort through. Back in the stables, instead of disappearing to do other duties, Marrow followed Oscar to the soothsaying… Oscar refused to call it a room… workhouse. He took up position by one of the doors to guard against soothsayer escape and allow different soldiers to come in for their readings. Oscar trudged by the rows of sand readers, forcing himself not to think too hard about anything.
Against his will they had moved him to the intermediate closet for apprentices. He tried to hide it from Fria, but she seemed to figure out he was further in his apprenticeship than memorizing patterns. Ozpin's sand reader had followed him to the intermediate room, eight apprentices marveling at the thing and chomping at the bit to have training readings on it - something Oscar guarded against religiously for almost a week before Pyrrha came in and explained it was on reserve.
If Lady Fria was in charge of the beginners, then Amber was in charge of the intermediates. She was permanently sitting at her own reader, asking those small, narrow questions that created self-reflection. Several intermediates were still learning patterns, and Oscar squarely identified himself as that so he could read his books. He had picked through everything he could find about soothmakers several times over, and now he was looking through every pattern book there was to find those two strange symbols he had seen in Qrow's readings.
The first had to do with location, Oscar knew that much based on how the pattern had manifested itself. The second one was harder to understand, from Qrow asking whether or not he could be cursed. It wasn't just that he'd never seen the patterns before, there were no linked or nested designs in the pattern to hint what the pattern might be. He had the copies of the patterns in his shirt at all times, he didn't trust anyone in the workhouse to see it. He'd stared at those two patterns at night, memorizing them, making sure he could reproduce them if the copies were ever confiscated.
"Hello, Oscar."
He looked up and saw Amber's apprentice, Pyrrha, sitting next to him. Like a lot of the soothsayers here, she was very nice. Everyone here was very nice, and very oblivious to how sheltered they were from the outside world. Pyrrha made an effort to connect with him, especially after he had shown her the Grimm, and now she leaned over and glanced at what he was reading.
"You and the patterns," she said softly. "Are you afraid your magic isn't strong enough for the reader?"
"... No," he said. "I just don't want anything to do with the war."
"Nobody does," she said gently. "I think if everyone was asked, they would say they didn't want the war to start with."
Oscar took a deep breath. "Then why is anyone even fighting?" he asked.
Pyrrah, also, took a slow breath. They had had this conversation before. "Oscar, if you were given the chance to end the war, would you take it?"
"Yes."
Pyrrha nodded. "That's what we're doing. We're doing our part to end the war."
"No," Oscar countered, exhausted, "You're really not. And even if you believe it, even if you think you're doing the best thing possible, you're actually doing the worst."
"Making again, I know," Pyrrha said. "I promise we're not."
Oscar turned to her, fed up, but instead of putting together a sassy retort a new tear slid down his face, and he quickly turned away to hide it. Pyrrha saw it, however.
"Oscar, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," he said, scraping at his eyes. "Everything's fine."
Pyrrha sighed, reaching out and rubbing his back like Marrow had. "It's hard," she said, "Holding everything inside like this. It's going to hurt you in the long run."
He had people to go to: Ozpin was the person he went to. Qrow. Yang. Penny. Ruby. But they weren't here, carefully sheltered in their gilded cage of a workhouse convinced they were going to fix the war instead of break it even further. He didn't know how to explain it - the novice apprentices barely knew how to activate their magic, they weren't ready for something like Grimm, the intermediates didn't know themselves, and all the soothsayers who might listen were forced to work for hours and hours giving readings. He turned to say as much but the door to their overcrowded closet opened.
"Orders from the general," Captain Bree said. "I'm here for Oscar Pine."
A dozen apprentices swiveled their heads to Oscar, and all he could do was sigh, so tired, and stand.
Of the three staffers General Ironwood had brought with him, Harriet Bree was Oscar's least favorite. Erdine and Zeki at least tried to be personable. Bree didn't care whether she was liked or not, and she escorted him back out through the workhouse and past Marrow, who gave a cheery wave before gesturing for some captain to enter. Bree took him through a long string of hallways, curving slowly around the palatial gardens. The halls got wider, more ornate, and Oscar could see higher ranks in the Mistral army: majors, colonels, commanders - everyone was moving stiffly from one location to the next with purpose. Then, up a flight of stairs that had no bend for a landing, going up and up before exiting out to a massive space.
A circular table was the centerpiece, some kind of map rolled out with little pins dotting it. A lot of Mistralan generals were there, shaking hands with Ironwood before leaving.
"Oscar," he said warmly. "Happy Midwinter Feast."
Oscar remembered his thoughts that morning, and he couldn't find any energy to muster up a polite repetition of the phrase.
Ironwood's warm smile faded, and he sighed, putting his hands behind his back. "I know," he said with a nod, "It doesn't much feel like it. No snowcakes, no firerum, not even an ash-counting."
Oscar assumed these were all Atlas traditions, and mentally debated if he should offer commentary. "It's just another day, here," he said quietly.
"Not completely," Ironwood said, gesturing. Beyond the… the war table was a massive, ornate desk, and on it were platters of food: rice balls wrapped in winter lettuce, jams, apple pie, honeyed ham, smoked meatballs, winter fruit salad, dumplings, bean cakes still steaming, bone broth with some kind of mutton… it really was a feast, all partially picked through as…
Oscar turned back to the map table, realizing the generals had been feasting while they talked war, and meanwhile the soothsayers were given military food rations and he knew from Qrow the actual military was near starving. Something dark boiled in Oscar, and he turned to see Ironwood pulling up two chairs and gesturing for him to sit. Oscar did so, his head buzzing and unable to focus.
Ironwood leaned back, hooking one ankle over a knee but otherwise keeping a straight posture. Bree took position by the door.
"I know times are tough. Everyone has had to bear the burden, but today is going to be a half day. As we speak, the other soothsayers are being dismissed to celebrate the holiday. I understand here in Mistral it's very much a family affair. I tried to reach out to your family, give them leave to come to the palace to celebrate with you, but I couldn't find them."
Oscar blinked slowly, trying to focus on what the general was saying and not the feast behind him, or the spike of pain at the word family: Oz…
Was it even worth keeping it a secret anymore? Oscar couldn't be threatened to manipulate Oz, Oz was out of the picture for months, if he even survived. Would the general use Oz against Oscar…? Security here was so tight there was no way it would get out to the soothmaker, Ozpin's sister. Would holding back really do anything…?
"... They're dead," he said. "Bleeding cough, almost three years ago."
"Oh, I'm so sorry," Ironwood said, frowning in sympathy. "You're an orphan then? No wonder you hold Oz in such high regard. I heard, by the way, that he's taken a turn for the worse. I was sorry to hear that, too. Young Marrow said you couldn't even bring yourself to see him."
"I… It took me by surprise," Oscar said, looking down, trying to speak carefully. He was so tired, emotionally wrung out and numb and suffering a headache as the day went on. "I'll be able to see him tomorrow."
"Oscar," Ironwood said, face and voice both concerned. "I know how hard it's been for you to see Oz like that. I remember when I found him the first time, and I used to visit him at the height of his fever. It's hard to watch a man so capable waste away like that before he can do good. Those memories… they linger. I don't want that for you. Ozpin is the closest thing you have to family, you don't deserve to remember seeing him that weak."
Oscar shook his head, looking down. "It's not about seeing him weak," he said. "It's about being there for him, because he needs it. He's been through a lot, and maybe he won't remember it, but I like to think he knows I'm there, and that helps him."
Ironwood smiled. "You remind me of him, you know," he said, reaching out and taking a glass of something and sipping it. His lips pursed as if it burned on the way down. "You're both soft without being weak. It's an admirable quality, you could almost pass as his son."
Oscar blinked, feeling something tighten in his body and he worked to craft his next sentence.
"... It's not the same," he decided on. "Soft and weak… those are two different things."
"For you and Ozpin, certainly," Ironwood said with a toast of his glass. "But not for everyone else. Maybe it's because you're both soothsayers, you see more of humanity than people initially believe. I remember when I met Ozpin at Haven Academy. In Atlas you're expected your last year to do a tour of the other countries, get a feel for them and broaden your worldview, per se. Vale was out of the question, of course, they were still spilling each other's blood at the time, but I met the professor as he gave a lecture on the art of soothsaying. He asked for volunteers for a reading to demonstrate something, I forget what. He asked if I had a question, and I was young and stupid.
"I asked what parts of myself I would lose in the next war. I still laugh at it, this dark, morbid, disarming question from an idiot twenty-something expecting… I don't know what I was expecting." He chuckled, shaking his head. "The professor asked if that was really what I wanted to know, because the reading was often very private and it might be a little too revealing. And I said it would be fine. What a damn fool I was. We were all sitting in a circular amphitheatre, watching the reading as it was made. When it was done, Ozpin leaned in and said he wasn't going to give me the real reading in the amphitheater, and to see him after the lecture. He told the audience that I was high-minded and self-assured, and that most likely I would lose my sense. We all laughed."
Ironwood's gaze changed then, the wistful nostalgia drifting to something sadder. "He told me the real reading, later. I was a man of heart, he said, righteous and caring, powerful and destined to go high places. But…" His voice trailed off. "If I chose to fight in a war that wasn't mine, I would lose my heart."
Oscar was surprised to hear such a personal story, he straightened slightly and held the general's gaze more fully. "And you don't think that's happening right now?" he asked.
Ironwood didn't answer for a long time, held his gaze before taking another draw from whatever his drink was. "This is a world war," he said. "Vacuo is aiding Vale, Vale has invaded Mistral. It's only right for Atlas to step in and put a stop to it. But I swore to myself I wouldn't lose my heart. I'm being as conscientious as I can: I've only picked battles the soothsayers knew we could win, I've kept military casualties down to half their normal rates, I've looked after the soldiers as if they were my own. I'm putting my entire heart into this war, and that's why we'll win."
Oscar realized in that moment that the general sincerely believed everything he had just said. Ironwood really thought he was doing what was best. It sounded so reasonable, so heartfelt. He really was trying his best. But…
"Mistral soldiers are starving," Oscar said, taking a chance. "Did you know that?"
Ironwood shook his head. "That's impossible. Everyone is ensured rations - it might not be tasty, but it will get them through the winter. Their diet will also be supplemented by their accommodations. Mistral's Grand General tells me several buildings have offered to billet the people fighting on their behalf at no charge."
"No, they're not," Oscar said. "They're being ordered to billet, and there's no food to 'supplement' because all the food was harvested to feed the army. Several families have been forced out of their apartments."
"Maybe in the foothill boroughs where there's always a little resistance, but not further up the mountain. You don't see the bigger picture, Oscar, which surprises me given that you're Ozpin's student. There's a finite amount of resources to distribute and only so many places it can go. I'm feeding the most people I can given what we have."
Oscar threw a meaningful glance at the feast table and its rich food.
"Oh, Oscar," Ironwood said with a sad smile and shake of the head. "It's Midwinter. We need to spread joy when we can. Now, the reason I called you here. I wanted to talk about your master."
Oscar leveled a flat gaze. Did he mean outside of reminiscing?
"I've said this before, but without any other family, you as his apprentice have some legal rights over him. That includes care. Now that the backbreaker has finally activated, there are some decisions that need to be made."
"... I'm sorry, what?" Oscar asked.
"There are some legal decisions that need to be made on Master Ozma's behalf," Ironwood said, putting his foot down and leaning forward. "For starters, when does care cease?"
… cease?
… cease?
"What do you mean cease?" Oscar said, mouth suddenly dry.
"I mean, is there a set of circumstances during Oz's treatment that he would want his care to cease?"
"What…? No, no! I don't want the doctors to stop helping him!" Why was that even a question?
Ironwood held up a hand, forestalling Oscar's sudden panic. "I didn't think so," he said quickly. "But it's a necessary question to ask, because some people do have conditions that they want care to stop."
"Well I don't!"
"Neither to I, Oscar. Ozpin is my friend, I'd like to keep him around. Next question," he said, brushing the entire exchange aside. "What kind of treatment does he get? There's two avenues of thought now, one treats the fever with the methods from the Lost Summer, but one suggests removing the source of the acid deposit."
"What… what does that mean?"
"Amputation."
What? "No! No, absolutely not! How could you even ask that?" Oz could barely walk as it was… without a leg…! Yang had a hard enough time with one arm!
"We're on the same page, so far," Ironwood said, nodding. He reached over to the feast table, grabbing a plate of something. "The next question is where is the best place to care for him. Higanbana is the finest hospital in the city, of course, but that's in the city. The palatial doctor's here are a cut above even that. He would receive excellent care here, he would be closer to you and your sand basin, his chances of recovery would be greater."
Oscar listened, thinking he would immediately shut down the idea, but the thought of a chance of recovery… Oscar struggled with himself, he wanted Ozpin to get better, but he didn't want to go against Ozpin's wishes either. If his father was here… He threw a glance at the general, saw a calm, neutral face, devoid of opinion. Could he… really be trying to do what was best? Oscar didn't want amputation, he didn't want to stop doctoring him, this was downright reasonable in comparison, but it was still Oz, his father, how could he…?
"... no," he said finally, uncertain if that was the right decision. "I don't think… we shouldn't interrupt the care he's already receiving in order to transport him here." He didn't want Ozpin in arms reach of Ironwood. He was safe in the infectious ward, but he couldn't guarantee that here at the palace.
"That's an excellent point," Ironwood said, the hint of something in his voice. "One last question, then: when Higanbana contacted me to say the backbreaker finally spread, they mentioned that his ability to infect people went up precipitously. They won't allow visitors while he's that infectious outside of the immediate family. In other words, I can't send Major Fria and the others to close his magic."
"Oh," Oscar said, looking up. "I can do it, I don't mind." Take up residency at the hospital away from the workhouse, no more watching the soothsayers be tricked into making the war, away from Ironwood and closer to his father…
Ironwood chuckled again, sipping his drink. "I'd expect no less from Ozpin's apprentice. But let's be serious, I see what Major Fria and the others look like when they come back from closing his magic. It's draining on them and they're masters of their craft. You'd be flat on your back after a couple of hours, and more liable to get infected. I propose, instead, that we keep as we're doing, letting the master soothsayers come in at intervals to close Master Ozma's magic. Does that sound reasonable?"
"Yes," Oscar said, disappointed. His head hurt, and he missed the small, quick smile the general gave.
"Good," Ironwood said smoothly, nodding. "I'm told there's a release for you to sign. I had a copy sent over."
After signing, the general stood, Oscar following suit haphazardly.
"Don't worry," Ironwood said with a smile, "all this food goes down to the soldiers for dinner tonight. Enjoy the night watch."
Oscar was numbly escorted back to the workhouse, but no one was there. As the general said, everyone had been dismissed to be with some kind of family for the evening. Oscar stared at the rows of sand basins, feeling the empty space, wondering how he was expected to celebrate Midwinter Feast. He moved to the apprentice closets, checking Ozpin's sand basin to make sure no one had used it. Someone had put a charging wreath around it - well made, so probably Amber. He looked at his books, wondering if he could concentrate enough to do more research.
His eyes closed against his will and he shook his head. No. It was Midwinter Feast, and there was somewhere he needed to be.
He exited the workhouse and went looking for Marrow. If he was in Atlas white now, he was probably with the others… but where did they barrack? Oscar realized he didn't know, and being in the palace didn't immediately make him privy to that information. He frowned, uncertain if he could just… go outside. Even if it was Midwinter, security was so tight…
"Oh, Oscar, there you are!"
He looked up, surprised to see Pyrrha half jogging up to him. "I wondered if you were going anywhere for the night watch," she said. "I know your master is in the hospital. Do you have family?"
Oscar blinked slowly, needing a minute to figure out how to answer the question. "Oz is my only family."
Pyrrha's open face was stricken for several moments, and she immediately drew Oscar into a warm hug. She wasn't as tall as Ozpin, nor as strong, but she was warm and soft, and Oscar felt something inside him melt.
"Well," Pyrrha said, "For tonight you're part of my family. You can stay with me and my mother."
Oscar melted even more, was too fuzzy to really answer, the long day dragging at his thoughts and making it hard to think. "... I was going to spend the night with Oz," he muttered, looking down as Pyrrha released the hug. He could sleep on the floor by his bed, it wasn't in him to do a night watch, but just sleeping in the same room as his father, just like they used to. Another tear slid down his cheek, and he rubbed at it with frustration. He thought he'd cried himself out that morning!
"Come on," Pyrrha said. "We'll have dinner at my place, get some real food in you, and then we can visit your master." She tugged gently at Oscar's hand and he was too tired to think, simply followed.
The guards had, of course, a long string of questions and checks - doubly so, it felt like, when they realized the kid who went to the hospital every day was leaving without a military escort. Pyrrha was polite in answering all the questions, but when they were finally cleared she huffed and crossed her arms. "That was so rude!" she muttered. "I understand how careful we have to be but honestly. It sounded like they thought you were some kind of criminal!"
"Pyrrha," Oscar said, rubbing his face as they walked down the streets. "I have a military escort to the hospital every morning. The general says it's for my safety but really it's because I don't fall in line and help read the war. I have to be monitored because I don't follow orders. I don't even follow the uniform. Now I'm leaving at a time they're not used to with someone they've never seen me with before."
Pyrrha shook her head. "It's Midwinter Feast! What did they expect?"
"For me to stay closely monitored in my barrack."
Her head swiveled to him, horrified. "You really don't trust the military, do you?" she asked.
Oscar shook his head, a cold breeze blowing through the afternoon air. He shrugged deeper into his green overcoat. The streets this high up the mountain were wide boulevards sectioned off to massive houses. There were no wafts of smoke for cookfires, and Oscar wondered if that meant all the noble houses were empty. Further down the mountain the houses slowly shrank in size to more nominal size. "See that tower over there?" Pyrrha asked. "That's Haven Academy's clock tower. We're almost there."
The house was two stories, not four like the apartment buildings, the roof stepped like the palace and a wide porch wrapping around the house. An older woman, also a redhead, stepped out in sensible silks and cheered to see Pyrrha. "I wasn't sure they'd let you go!" she said. "It takes so long for your crows to come in!"
"I'm here, Mom!" Pyrrha ran up and the two women hugged tightly, spinning and cheering. "Happy Midwinter Feast!"
"Oh, it's not much of a feast this year, and everyone back in Argus says it's even worse, there. But never mind that, oh it's so good to see you! And you brought a friend!"
"Mom, this is Oscar Pine. He's an apprentice soothsayer like me. He's had a hard few months and doesn't really have anyone to stay with for the night watch. I invited him."
"Oh, hello, child. Welcome to the family. You look like death warmed over, let's get some food in you."
Before Oscar could really understand what was happening, he was sitting at a low table with simple dumplings, rice balls, and thin mutton soup. It was delicious, and slid all the way down to his stomach so smoothly he hummed in unknown relief. Pyrrha and her mother talked the whole meal, but Oscar didn't really listen, marveling at eating something that wasn't rations and comforted by soft conversation. It was like having Qrow and Yang and Ruby over for dinner - not as noisy but just as soft. He started to relax for what felt like the first time in months, and he hated the sensation slightly, because he was supposed to relax once Oz survived. It felt like he was letting his father down.
"Oh, don't say that," Pyrrha said, making him look up. "Your father, wherever he is, would want you to be happy. Your master would want you to be happy - Master Amber speaks so highly of Master Ozma. Enjoy yourself!"
Oscar shook his head, pushing his plate away. "I should be at the hospital," he said. "Oz shouldn't be alone tonight."
"Well," Pyrrha's mother said. "Then we'll just have to go to the hospital."
Wait… what?
Oscar snapped to attention, staring, struggling to understand what he just heard. His confusion must have shown on his face, because Pyrrha's look softened, and she reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.
The sun was almost set when they finally arrived, Oscar didn't recognize any of the nurses or the doctors. There seemed to be some kind of gathering somewhere on the campus from the half-heard conversations, probably a Midwinter ceremony for people who still had to work. Oscar traced his way to the infectious ward and showed Pyrrha and her mother how to wash every piece of themselves and put a cloth mask, folded over several times, over their faces to make it safe to visit. "You can't go in," he said softly. "He's too infectious right now, they're only letting family in."
"And you're his closest family," Pyrrha said, nodding. "We understand. Stay safe."
Oscar nodded, hand hovering over the door. The reality of it all struck him again: the backbreaker had spread, Oz was so sick, he might not… No. Don't think like that. He pursed his lips and opened the door.
It was obvious once he saw his father. The very air felt different, thick with something his nose couldn't identify. Ozpin was tossing and turning in bed, or his head was, soft moans and hums leaving his throat. His cheeks were bright red, and his hair soaked with sweat. Oscar could feel the open magic from here, and he quickly moved over to his father's feet, placing his hands at the ankles and reached inside himself to close the magic. No sooner had he closed it that it opened again, and Oscar had to put his hands back on Ozpin's blanketed feet.
"Oz," he said softly.
To his surprise, his father's eyes opened a sliver, wandering around in the dim light before locking onto Oscar. He weakly reached a hand up, lifting it only a few inches before it fell back down, but it was enough, Oscar moved up the bed and took his hand, risk of fever or not. "Oz," he said, leaning forward. "Oz, I'm here."
His response was a hum, the weakest squeeze of his hand. "... ill… again…"
"I know, Oz," Oscar said, more awake than he'd been all day. "The backbreaker spread again, but it will be okay. You can fight it, because you're not alone."
"... alone… so alone…"
"I know. They won't let me stay here to keep you company, but I visit every day."
"... dream…"
"It's not a dream, Oz," Oscar said, leaning forward. "I'm really here."
Oz's eyes welled, Oscar could barely see it in the dim light, and a lazy tear leaked out the side of his eyes. Oscar felt his eyes water, too, so happy to talk to his father. He took the hand in his and held it to his chest, but that garbled conversation was too much for Oz, it seemed, his eyes drifted closed, murmuring something that sounded like, "...home…"
Oscar broke for the second time that day, so shocked that he had been able to speak to his father, overwhelmed and strung out and so very tired, but somewhere his body found the energy to let out a shaking sob, and he struggled to stay standing - he didn't want to collapse on the bed and do anything to Oz. He settled for sinking down to his knees, resting his head on the blanket, hands still clasped around Oz's, shuddering as all the emotion overtook him.
They spoke! They spoke! It was more than he had dared hope for for months! He'd been there to say something, he'd been there to show Oz he wasn't alone, he'd done something for his father…! He was relieved even as underneath it a new layer of heartbreak started to build. Oz was so sick, it had taken so much energy to say, what, seven words? And his magic was opening up again, Oscar had to fumble to close it even as he lost himself in the reality of how bad it was, how close Ozpin was to the edge of nothing. He had to hold on, he had to! Oscar didn't know what else he could do, he was trying so hard to do it all on his own, to not say the war, to keep Ozpin alive, to research Ozpin's sister.
He needed his father, he needed his family, he needed to feel safe and he didn't feel safe in the palace no matter how nice the general was, no matter how well-meaning the other soothsayers were, no matter how often he saw Blake or one of Qrow's crows. Even if the soothmaker didn't know about Oscar, as Oz's son he was suffering isolation and misery just by proxy. If this was what it felt like after a few months he couldn't even imagine what years of living like this was like, he couldn't understand how Ozpin was still here, and yet he knew without asking how close his father had come to just… giving up.
Oscar didn't want him to give up. Not now. That meant he couldn't give up either. He had to keep trying, keep looking, keep choosing to move forward and find a way to end the curse.
He woke up on the floor, curled in on himself and a little confused on where he was.
Oz! He spoke!
Oscar jolted upright, then swayed as his muscles protested, but he managed to scramble back up to his feet. Oz was still there, of course, on the bed, sweating and red faced, shifting in pain. His magic was open again, and Oscar reached out to close it.
"... lotus flower… pain… hunger… learns… pink light… share pain… growth…"
"Easy, Oz," Oscar said softly, reaching out and putting a hand on Ozpin's core, closing the magic. "Easy, you don't have the strength to soothsay right now."
Ozpin hummed, sinking into the bed, but his eyes didn't open and he didn't look at Oscar. It hurt, but he was okay with that, because they had talked last night, and for now that was enough.
Then he realized it was morning. He'd spent the entire night here. One part of him wondered about the backbreaker and infection, but most of him wondered if the general knew he had snuck out of the palace. Would Pyrrha get in trou-Pyrrha! Was she still outside?
"Hang on, Oz," Oscar said. "I'll be right back." He moved stiffly out of the room, reaching up to rub his shoulder before he remembered he had to clean up thoroughly. He did so and looked around for Pyrrha and her mother. He found both of them near the exit of the hospital. Both of them had the dark eyes of two people who had been up all night. Right, the night watch for Midwinter… Oscar pulled at his face, hoping his sacrilege wasn't obvious, and moved over to them. "You two okay?"
"Yes," the mother said with a thin voice, rubbing her eyes. "I'm getting too old for a night watch, but the staff was very nice, they let us help distribute the ash at dawn. You could see the university tower from here - I didn't realize that. It was magical to see."
"I'm glad," Oscar said.
"You look a lot better," Pyrrha said. "More relaxed."
Oscar pulled at a stiff muscle. "I wouldn't say relaxed…"
"No, not your body, your spirit," she said. "I'm glad I was able to help."
Oscar… he smiled, fiddling with his hands and looking down, suddenly shy. "Thank you," he said softly. "For doing this."
"Anyone would," Pyrrha said. "Come on, let's go back to the palace. Mom, will you be staying much longer?"
"Brothers, no, I couldn't afford another night of rent," Pyrrha's mom said. "I ride out in about an hour back to Argus. It'll be a long ride, but I'll tell everyone how much good work you're doing."
The two women hugged, and Pyrrha walked with Oscar back up the mountain.
"I hope they let us sleep," she said after a yawn. "Major Fria wasn't sure when she made the announcement, but I imagine they have to. It would be cruel to make us all work after being up all night."
Marrow was at the gate, pacing back and forth in his white uniform, and when he saw Oscar and Pyrrha he ran immediately up to them. "Where have you been?" he demanded, voice pitched and strained. "You weren't in your barracks this morning! The general was going to search the entire palace for you!"
"What?" Pyrrha asked as Oscar felt a trickle of fear in his spine. "He was just visiting Master Ozma - Midwinter is supposed to be with family!"
"But the professor isn't legally family," Marrow said, gesticulating. "Soothsayers could only see real family last night!"
"Well he was with me and my family," Pyrrha said, annoyed.
"But you're not real family either, oh this is such a disaster. Both of you come with me, we have to explain to the general before he gets any more mad!"
Oscar didn't know what to do, forced to follow Marrow and Pyrrha through the hallways to the other part of the barracks where the war meeting had been held. The general was pacing back and forth, white coat fluttering slightly, and when he turned and saw Oscar his eyes were dark, narrow, flinty.
"Where have you been?" he demanded in a low voice.
"I invited him to do the night watch with me and my mother," Pyrrha said. "The only family he has is Master Ozma, so I invited him to be part of my family for the night. Then we took him to see Master Ozma. I don't see what the big deal is."
"The big deal is that we couldn't find you," Ironwood said, moving forward and looming over them. "You didn't say visiting Higanbana was part of your itinerary. We sent someone out to collect you and you weren't there. What if vagabonds had gotten their hands on you? What if the invading army had snuck agents into the city and kidnapped you? How can we reasonably be expected to keep you safe if you aren't where you say you are?"
"Look," Pyrrha said, frowning. "This is a misunderstanding, I think."
"It was a spur of the moment decision," Oscar said, realizing what was happening. "Pyrrha saw how sad I was, and I asked if I could see the professor. I made the choice."
The general glared, tall and intimidating, frightening. Then all at once he closed his eyes and sighed all the way down, reaching up to pinch his brow. "Oscar," he said, weary. "You're Master Ozma's legacy. I'm trying to look out for him, and that means looking out for you. If I don't know where you are…"
"I'm sixteen, general," Oscar said. "I'm old enough to make my own decisions."
"And I'm twenty-one, general," Pyrrha said. "We both made decisions last night. We're sorry for worrying you."
Ironwood took a long, deep breath, and straightened, putting his arms behind his back. "You've spent hours at Higanbana," he said, voice matter-of-fact. Cold. "In the infectious ward. For your safety, I'm going to quarantine you both for two weeks, until we know that neither of you are contagious."
Oscar snapped to attention. "But Oz…! You said I could see him every day!"
"And you will," Ironwood said, eyes narrow. "Once we know you won't infect the palace with backbreaker."
"We understand, general," Pyrrha said smoothly, bowing her head. "We'll head to the barracks right now."
Blake was in his barrack waiting for him. "There you are," she said with a sigh of relief. "The whole complex was worried about you."
"I know," Oscar said, feeling his spirits plummet to be back in this room. "I kind of snuck out of the palace last night."
"Wow, that's impressive given security right now," Blake said, wide eyed.
"Not really," he said, sagging to his bed. "The general restricted me to the palace - probably just this bunk - for two weeks. I won't get to see…" His eyes watered, and he quickly hid behind his hands. They had talked last night, he had to hold on to that. They had talked…
A small arm wrapped around his shoulders, and Blake placed her head on his. "It's hard, being here," she said. "And it's getting harder. Someone Yang knows is in contact with the rebellion on the other side of the mountain, did you know that?"
"... yeah," Oscar said, dimly happy for the distraction. "Qrow sent a message about that."
"Well, there have been a lot of posters and pamphlets going out."
"I knew that, too."
"I bet you don't know that last night there was a riot in the foothill districts."
"Wait, what?" Oscar said, pulling his hands away and staring. "Which borough?"
"All of them," Blake said. "Everyone is near starving down there, including the soldiers billeting there. The more Sun and Neptune share stories about the rebellion, the more people realize just how messed up everything is. We're hoping that by spring, enough of the districts will be ready that we can all approach the emperor and demand terms."
"... do you really think he will?" Oscar said. He'd never even seen the emperor.
Blake's face faded, a small frown blooming on her mouth. "After everything we've seen coming north… no. I think they'll fight to the bitter end. I've had to rethink my role here in the palace."
"In what way?"
Blake took a deep breath through her nose. "I was originally trying to gain access to the emperor, but I won't move high enough up the chain of service to get there in time. Now I'm more interested in the soothsayers. You all are working so hard, and all you want to do is try and stop a war. And you've shown me that there's a danger to what you're doing. When spring comes, and the rebellion can finally cross the pass, I want to make sure I can get as many of you and the other soothsayers out of here."
"Thank you," Oscar said, shifting to hug Blake. "You're risking a lot."
Blake shook her head. "I'm not risking enough," she said. "So many people have sacrificed so much…" Her eyes drifted away. "And they're still here, they're still fighting… I have to do my part, and stop running."
Oscar looked down. "I think… I think I've been running, too," he said softly. "When Oz fell… It all happened so fast, and big shocks like that take a long time for me to process, only there wasn't time. All of the sudden I had to worry about food, income, rent, looking after Ozpin, trying to duck from the general. I didn't do well, I ended up here because I was careless, I stick out so much, and now the general has an even tighter grip on me."
"That doesn't really sound like running," Blake said. "That sounds like you were cornered."
"Well, I think it's time I stopped living in my own head," Oscar replied. "I'm not the only soothsayer here, right? Maybe I should be asking for help."
"Are you sure?" Blake asked.
"No," Oscar admitted. "Not about all of them. But…" He reached into his green overcoat, pulled out the patterns he'd been trying to research for months. "Here," he said. "Give them to Pyrrha Nikos, she's in quarantine with me. Tell her…" He frowned, thinking. "Tell her I could use a friend. Tell her I can't find these patterns and don't know what they mean."
Blake nodded, taking the paper with care and hiding it in her ruqun. "They're going to reassign the maids in a few days, and I'm petitioning to be permanently assigned to the soothsayers. I might have more freedom then to check in with you. Do you have any messages for Qrow?"
"Yes," Oscar said. "The backbreaker has finally spread."
"Oh," she said, pulling him into another hug.
He told her the rest.
Author's Notes: We don't MEAN to push the angst button so hard, we promise, but... like... it's an active curse right now. Oscar is in its radius ad so he also has to suffer.
We do give Oscar as many hope spots as we can: he's in a hostile environment but that doesn't mean the PEOPLE are hostile. Pyrrha and Marrow are both sensitive and understanding, Pyrrha is cut from the same cloth as Oz and goes the extra mile for Oscar to invite him over as part of the family. Oscar finally has a brief conversation with Oz - kinda - and the relief of that gives him the courage to reach out.
Ironwood meanwhile... I don't know if it came across but he just did something really manipulative: he deliberately knocked Oscar off guard by asking some rational but horrible questions in order to soften him up to allow his soothsayers to keep access to Oz. Oscar didn't read what he just signed. More on that later.
Next chapter: Better check on Qrow and see what all those riots looked like down the mountain.