Chapter Text
Oscar blamed himself.
He should’ve known better. He should have ignored the strange urges, the visions, the persistent voice in his head. He should have stayed on the farm instead of boarding a train to Mistral.
Yet here he was, his bones aching as if he had been plowing the fields 24 hours straight. In fact, Oscar wished he could be plowing fields right now. Anything was a better alternative to his current situation.
In the darkened space, Oscar could only make out the wine-colored stones on the other side of the cell. He didn’t even have the energy to try to escape. He’d have to escape the chains he was in, then get out of the room.
The farm boy resigned himself to his small corner, doing his best to curl his legs underneath him. His throat was dry and he yearned for something to drink. But he bet that asking for such a thing was going to cost him something. Perhaps a limb.
I’m sorry , the professor apologized for the fifth time in the hour.
“Please stop apologizing,” Oscar sighed. He could faintly hear the sound of water dripping into his cell. This place screamed “gloomy and depressing” and Oscar felt like his entire soul was being sucked out of his body. He wasn’t sure if it was magic or just his body giving up.
Oscar…
“Shut up,” Oscar hissed. He wasn’t interested in talking to Ozpin, and wished the immortal being would understand that. Oscar was well aware of what he was thinking and didn’t need a warning.
You want to die.
Thanks, I didn’t know that’s what was going through my mind.
We can’t let her win.
Correction. You can’t let her win. I can. And since I am like, 75% of this person, I say let’s die. It’ll be easier for everyone.
Oscar, please. Your friends need you.
They actually need you. I don’t matter. I’m just another body for you.
Oscar—
Since his arrival, Oscar had gotten adept at ignoring Ozpin. He’d throw up some sort of mind block. It was difficult to maintain and Ozpin could probably break through it if he really tried. But it seemed that even the professor was beginning to realize that Oscar was a hopeless cause.
Now that there was silence, Oscar scanned the cell block for anything sharp or hard that he could possibly bludgeon or cut himself with. He knew partly that it would be a horrible idea but a small part of him was egging him on. Ozpin’s soul would be transferred to a new body and he could start over and Oscar could take in the darkness that he truly craved. He could be at peace because no longer would he be hated, abandoned, blamed. Once he was gone, he would be forgotten, and everyone would be happy.
All these thoughts were for naught, however, as he was chained to the wall behind him. His arms were weighed down by heavy chains and put him in an uncomfortable position. There was no way he could reach anything now. Oh well. If he couldn’t end his life himself, he could certainly wait for the death that was imminent.
Dark and twisted thoughts consumed Oscar’s mind as he heard a key click echo throughout the cell block. Someone was coming to greet him. He had no doubt it was probably Watts or Tyrian here to taunt him.
The sight before him, however, was definitely a surprise. The enigma herself had arrived. Ozpin—Ozma’s former lover towered above him, her face blank and expectant at the same time. The Grimm marks on her face looked like warrior scars, as if she had fought in a hard and long battle. She could pass for an ordinary human being… if she didn’t look so much like a witch, of course.
Oscar considered letting down the shields to let Ozpin do the talking, but he couldn’t will himself to. He was shaking, his small hands trembling in the chains. This was the woman who had destroyed the entire world in a matter of seconds, all for love. This was the creature that would burn down every Kingdom until Ozpin was dead. She would stop at nothing to ensure the world would bow at her feet once again.
Oscar wanted nothing but to shut her eyes and reopen them—for her to disappear like a bad dream. The air grew warmer around him and Oscar started to feel dizzy.
Salem inched closer, her inky train following behind her. Her features did not change as she kneeled down, extending her claw-like nails towards him. Oscar scooter back, as if leaving a gap would somehow protect him from Salem’s powers. She placed one black nail under his chin, smiling menacingly. Immediately, Oscar felt like he was submerged into a thick pool of something dark. And sticky.
“Ozpin,” she purred, her eyes filled with contempt. Two lovers, caught in a war that the entire world had no idea about. But Oscar dare didn’t say a word. If Ozpin wanted to say something, let him take control of his body and say whatever he wanted. Oscar slowly let down his mental wards, easing Ozpin’s presence back into his consciousness.
“You’ve had so many forms, so many, but never a young boy. Tell me, why did you choose this body?” she asked, her voice oozing. Oscar didn’t answer, for his heart was in his throat and his mind was racing.
“I’m waiting for an answer ,” she hissed.
Now would be an incredible time for you to take over.
“Boy, tell Ozpin that if he wants you to live here another day, he must speak to me!” Salem roared, dragging her claw across his throat. Oscar couldn’t stop shaking and he knew that of Ozpin didn’t resurface—
“Salem.” A single word, a name on his lips.
Oscar had been shoved to the back of the mind. He was nothing but a spectator. His body stopped trembling. It was warm. He, his soul, felt sleepy. But he couldn’t tuck himself away. Usually when Ozpin took over, Oscar could hear voices, but they were very muffled. However, Salem’s rung loud and clear.
“Ozpin,” she was saying, a wicked grin growing on her face.
“What do you want?” Ozpin’s steely tone came out. It was still Oscar’s voice, but stronger and more mature.
“There you go,” she purred. “There you go.”
“What do you want?”
Salem turned away from him suddenly, with a flick of her midnight dress. “You won’t give me what I want. So I’ll force it out of you.”
“How do you know? How do you know what I’m willing to sacrifice?” Ozpin snarled. Oscar, suddenly the smaller soul, felt Ozpin’s coarse voice out of his mouth, his teeth. Part of him still held those same feelings. The feeling of wanting to take Salem down. But those weren’t his words. Those belonged to Ozpin only.
“I know ,” the woman murmured, turning back around, “I know because you’ve lived for more than a thousand years. You don't want to sacrifice any of your followers anymore because this is the closest you’ve come to defeating me, isn’t it?”
Ozpin/Oscar tensed underneath the shackles. Oscar didn't know how far Ozpin was willing to go, and didn't want to find out.
“It’s too bad this is where it ends. I won’t end your sorry life now, but when I do, you’ll have to reincarnate, won’t you?”
Salem made her way to the door, not waiting for a reply.
“You will never get away with this," Ozpin spat.
“Oh? By the time you find a new host, I’ll already have all the answers I need to have Remnant all under my control. So Ozma, Ozpin, and what’s the boy’s name…. ah, yes, Hazel told me it’s Oscar . I will be getting away with this. But I can’t say the same for you.”
The cell closed with a clang . Ozpin receded, and Oscar sat there, his heart thudding in his chest.
“We are doomed,” he whispered to himself. His voice was just as weary as he felt.
And for the first time, Ozpin couldn’t reply.