"Welcome to my kingdom. Tainted by my memories of it, and no doubt better through nostalgia than it ever was in reality, but it stood the test of time for several thousand years and there aren't many that can say that!"

"Sir, are you saying this is real? What does that make you? A reincarnated soul?"

"Close enough, Mr Arc. Close enough." For dropping such bombshells on him, Ozpin was obnoxiously bright and cheerful. His eyes sparkled as he looked left and right, taking in long-forgotten scenery with obvious joy. "Goodness, I'd forgotten most of this place. Distant memories buried under millions more. Happier times, however. Ah, Sir Lannard!"

A man in a full suit of armour turned and regarded them. He swept his helmet off to reveal long, shoulder length blonde hair and a handsome face. "My liege. How farest thee?"

Ozpin strode forward to link arms with the man. Their breastplates clanked together as they patted one another's back. Jaune felt like an outsider.

"Good, Lannard. Good! And you know I prefer it when you call me Ozma!"

"In private, my liege. Today is a day of celebration and ceremony. A little decorum is expected." The knight looked past him. "And who is this?"

The knight could see him? It must have been because Ozpin was acknowledging him in the dream.

"This is Sir Jaune D'Arc," Ozpin lied, altering his last name a little. "He is a knight and emissary of a distant kingdom called Vale, here to wish us well on our big day and talk politics. Relax, Lannard. He is a good man."

"Well met, Sir D'Arc." The knight offered his gauntlet, which Jaune shook. It was an honest to goodness knight out of the fairytales. Ruby would be jealous. "Welcome to our illustrious kingdom. I hope you find it welcoming."

"Uh. Yeah, it's an amazing place."

Sir Lannard tilted his head. "An odd manner of speech, you have. And odd clothing. Truly, our cultures must be quite different. What material are those hose?"

"Hose...?"

"It's called denim," Ozpin interrupted. "A weave of yarn or cotton treated in a peculiar style. They're an interesting kingdom. Advanced in many ways."

"Is that so? Well, I look forward to seeing what we can learn from one another."

"I'm showing Sir D'Arc around the castle," said Ozpin. "Can you station some guards to my lady wife's quarters? I'm afraid I've opened my mouth and said something to upset her."

Lannard frowned. "Again?"

"You know me, Lannard."

"I certainly do, my liege." The knight sighed. "I will stop by the kitchens and procure her highness some of her favourite snacks. Shall I fetch her handmaidens as well? They will gossip most fiercely against you."

"I can withstand their cold gossip if it makes my wife feel better. See it so." The knight banged his gauntlet to his chest and moved on, though not without a quick smile and a nod sent Jaune's way. Once he was out of hearing distance, Ozpin smiled and said, "That's another of your ancestors, you know."

Jaune gaped. "He's an Arc!?"

"Lannard Arc. I can't even think how many ancestors separate you and he, and you may not be from his line. He has two brothers, four sisters and at least twenty cousins. Most are knights, though some are squires or handmaidens." Ozpin frowned suddenly. "This era didn't really embraced equality of sex, I regret to say. It wasn't until much later, and by necessity, that huntresses were born. Folly in hindsight, I admit. Aura is aura. But it was hard to think of breaking tradition this many thousands of years ago."

"I guess." Jaune had been born into an era where huntresses were just as integral a part of life as huntsmen, so it was hard for him to really understand it. "How many thousands of years ago was this? And how can you remember it all?"

"That's the big question, isn't it? For that you need to understand something. With me." Ozpin took him a short distance to a door flanked by knights, who saluted and let them inside. "This chamber is sealed off from most people. It depicts our origins." Ozpin reached up to a torch, then decided against it. "Can you provide a little light, Mr Arc?"

Jaune used a tiny amount of aura to flood the sealed room with sunlight. The walls were coated with murals, images in mosaic tiles and etched with gold that seemed to depict scenes of battle with huge, Grimm-like monsters.

"Convenient," said Ozpin. "These scenes depict the earliest moments of our civilisation – a time when, and I am sure you won't believe me, actual Gods roamed Remnant."

"You're right. I don't believe you."

"There isn't much I can do here in a dream to convince you, sadly. You're sceptical, which is understandable really, and you won't believe the truth without more concrete proof. Still, listen to my tale and keep it a secret from your teammates for now. I do believe you have this as a philosophy, no? To keep the secrets you discover in dreams."

"I do."

"Good. It all started many thousands of years before the present time, back before dust technology was even a consideration, and when knights roamed Remnant with sword and shield. Back then, the Grimm were not the all-encompassing threat they are today. They were present, and dangerous, but they kept to one part of the world and surrounded their god – the so-named God of Destruction."

Ozpin pointed to a huge figure depicted in black on a mosaic. He was surrounded by white-headed animals that Jaune realised were crude depictions of Grimm. He then dragged his finger to another huge creature depicted in gold.

"His opposite was the God of Creation, who created the land and the people who lived in it, and who looked over us not as a kindly father, but as a curious mind. He created us not because he loved us, but because it was his nature, and because we were interesting. Us, with our short lives and ephemeral motives appeared so intriguing to an endless being such as he. With his limitless power, the God of Creation – sometimes known as the God of Light – took requests from people."

"Requests? Like he granted wishes?"

"Very much so. People would travel from far and wide to petition him for requests ranging from petty to selfless, and the God of Light would choose based on his own criteria. It never made sense. He would accept wishes to have rivals die, to have women fall in love with a man she hated, to take away free will and gain innumerable riches. And then he would take others to cure diseases, provide for starving people or end wars. There was no sense to it, no reason, and it felt to many like you would have a 50% chance one way or the other. That didn't stop people lining up to speak with him."

"Did you?"

"No. I did not trust such a being." Ozpin smirked. "I was a travelling knight at the time, seeking adventure and living my best life. It was on one such quest that I discovered a woman locked away in a tower and befriended her. Salem, she was called, and a beauty as such I had never seen. I visited her many times, sharing stories of the outside world. Eventually, I was able to free her, and we were wedded. Such happiness as I had never known, but, alas, such happiness was fleeting. I was struck down some ten years later by disease. Medicine back then was not what it is now, and I passed away with Salem weeping over my body." Ozpin sighed. "But it did not end there."

"Driven by grief, Salem travelled to the God of Light and asked him to resurrect me. The God of Light refused, stating that life and death was one barrier he would not cross no matter the situation. Salem left, dispirited and alone, but unwilling to let me go. At great risk to herself, she travelled to the God of Light's contemporary. No one before her had approached the God of Darkness, and Salem made her request of him. He had no interest in granting wishes as his sibling did, but Salem challenged him and made it seem like the God of Light could not resurrect me. Eager to prove himself stronger, the God of Darkness brought me back from the dead and reunited us. Alas, this did not go unnoticed. The God of Light came and was furious at Salem for having disobeyed his order."

"What order?" Jaune asked. "I didn't hear one."

Ozpin chuckled. "Neither did she. That is how the Gods were – they assumed much, and it was the job of every human to understand the implication or suffer for it. There was little fairness or justice. The God of Light had said no, and he meant that as a proclamation. Salem simply heard it as a refusal and sought aid elsewhere, but this was an insult to the God of Light. Furious, he killed me again, though I had been back mere minutes, and he punished Salem by denying her death. She would live an eternal life, never able to die and be reunited with me in the afterlife."

It sounded fantastical and Jaune still didn't fully believe it, but even for an old myth that sounded cruel. Cruel, but typical. What limited religions there were on Remnant often had pantheons of gods that had done equally bizarre and horrible things to people.

"My wife was cast back out into the world to live an eternity of loneliness. A cruel fate, but one that the Gods were foolish to think she – or anyone – would simply accept and live with. Salem travelled the world, roused the kingdoms, and convinced them to go to war with the Gods for their power, but also to stop them giving out wishes so recklessly. You see, many of the wishes granted had destabilised whole kingdoms. What happens to a royal line when a child wishes to be a queen? What happens when one kingdom wishes to win a war against another? It was chaos and anarchy, and many feared they were one wish away from having their homes destroyed."

"How do you fight gods?" asked Jaune.

"A good question. I was not alive to see it but unsuccessfully would be my thought. Or you could call it a success, because even when they lost the war, the Gods were so furious with humanity that they abandoned Remnant and took their power and wishes away with them. Remnant was left a shell of its former self, kingdoms shattered, humanity almost wiped out. But humanity recovered – and, without the gods, humanity even thrived."

He looked proud of that. Jaune supposed a man who had such bad interactions with gods, if that was what they really were, would be happy to see the people move on without them. "So, if most of the world got killed by two petulant gods then how are you still alive? Or anyone for that matter?"

"That came after. Salem persists due to her curse, and the Gods took displeasure with that even though it was their actions that led to it. They wanted to give humanity a chance to repent – or so they say it. I'm of the personal belief that they want to give humanity a chance to beg for forgiveness, all so they can feel more powerful. They created four relics that would summon them back to judge humanity, with the caveat that if humanity were judged to have not repented, it would be destroyed." Ozpin chortled. "Naturally, no one bothered to gather them."

"That must have upset them."

"Indeed. So, they decided they needed an agent. Someone who would be the catalyst to push for the relics to be gathered. Someone who would face Salem and convince her to surrender herself." He spread his arms wide. "Me. They brought me back a second time, but with conditions. When I would die, my consciousness and soul would be denied the afterlife and sent to a new human body. Not a whole resurrection, but an eternity of its own. They put me back on Remnant with orders to defeat Salem, gather the relics, and bring about their return."

"And, obviously, you told them they could shove their orders up their ass."

"Obviously." Ozpin's eyes twinkled with mirth. "It's as you say – I was obviously none too pleased and not at all interested in playing my part. The first thing I did was go back to Salem and, after I had proved it was me, we married again and lived in happiness."

"Happily ever after?"

"Such was the idea. We founded a kingdom, gathered the survivors of the world, and helped them scrap themselves back to civilisations. We ruled as king and queen, but not as gods. Never as gods. We wanted a world without them, and that was what we had for the longest time. However, nothing is meant to last forever, not without change, and I made the mistake of pushing aside my wife's growing boredom and dismay at what was – to her – an unending repeat of the same thing over and over."

Jaune still didn't believe it all but he could see the connection. "Is that what I heard back there?"

"Yes. That was but one occasion in which she came to me and kindly requested a change. And but one occasion where I ran over her request like a fool. Too blinded by duty or my own happiness and not wanting change." Ozpin shook his head. "Looking back, I needed someone to hit me up the back of the head, or for her to be more demanding of me, but societal expectations being what they were in the era, Salem simply swallowed her feelings and put on a smile." Ozpin sighed. "You have no idea how much better you have it nowadays, Mr Arc. When a woman is unhappy with you, she'll speak her mind. Back in this time, they were expected to mind their words and do as their husband wished. Obviously, I never tried to hold her to that, but it must have crept in before either of us noticed."

To Jaune, it felt so easy to just say Ozpin had been an asshole. A good husband should have been able to tell. It was obvious he felt bad about it, however, so he remained silent. There was no need to pile insults on a guy insulting himself.

"To cut a long story short, our relationship got worse and worse until I made an even greater mistake that led to me trying to steal our children away and leave her. I only meant to leave her for a time, to let her calm down, but that obviously wasn't how she saw it. We fought and, in the chaos, I and my children were killed. Caught in the crossfire of a marital dispute thousands of years in the making."

Jaune winced. "I'm sorry."

"No sorrier than I. I hear their voices in my dreams even today, screaming out for daddy to save them. And I hear Salem's mournful wails as she realised their deaths. It drove her mad. Or maybe it was the last nail in the coffin. Salem still lives today, though her existence is kept a secret. She lives as the one behind the Grimm—"

"Wait, what? There's someone behind the Grimm? And how? Wasn't she human?"

"I'm mixing the story up," said Ozpin. "Forgive me, it's been a long time. Salem had attempted to end her life by throwing herself into the Grimm pools – which, again, is a phrase that means nothing to you. The simplest answer is that she became as a Grimm but, thanks to her curse of immortality, she did not die or lose her mind. She lives today, in the Grimmlands, locked in an eternal war with me. Salem wishes to gather the four relics and summon the Gods."

"Why? You said they'd judge her..." It dawned on him. "You're saying she wants to be destroyed?"

"That is my belief, yes. They are the only ones who can fully lift her curse. Perhaps she hopes she'll be sent to the afterlife with our children, or maybe she thinks she'll cease to exist and no longer feel pain. Either way, humanity will not accept the gods back so even if she repents, they will be angry at the state of the rest of the world. Remnant may well be destroyed or wiped clean of human life."

"And this is... This is all real?"

Ozpin nodded.

"How am I meant to believe any of this? With all due respect," he added, almost as an afterthought. "This sounds like complete insanity. Ancient gods, immortal beings, a person who can control the Grimm and some secret war for Remnant..."

It sounded like a bad TV show plot.

"I understand your scepticism. We believe Cinder may be working for Salem, hence her coming to Beacon. Your full belief of my words isn't entirely necessary. What matters is that you be aware of this so that you can do me a favour should you ever end up in Cinder's dreams once more."

That much, he could guess. "You want me to double check if she's serving this Salem person?"

"Yes. I'm sure you'll find your own confirmation as to Salem's existence in Cinder Fall's dreams. Once you have that, I'll be happy to talk more with you and explain things further."

"Is there a reason beyond that as to why you're even telling me all this?" Assuming it's all true, my Semblance isn't strong enough to make me a weapon in some war. I get that it's good for information gathering, but it's not like I could end up in Salem's dream."

Assuming she was real at all.

"I don't see you as a weapon, Mr Arc. But I do have to acknowledge that you could discover this on your own given four years in a school with me. Better I reveal this to you here, then have you see something inexplicable in my dream. No? Besides, I felt you deserved to know since this is in some way related to Amber."

"Amber—? How? Wait, the reason why Amber was kept prisoner by you!"

Ozpin winced. "Is that how she saw it? I never wanted it to be that way. I was trying to keep her safe. And I did let her travel eventually. It's painful to know she saw me that way, but I can't fault the dead." Ozpin shook his head. "To keep the Relics hidden, I made four vaults for them, each requiring a key to unlock and that key being tied to a power passed down like a Semblance. Amber was one such person, hence why she became a target for Cinder."

That was it? Amber died to open a door...? Jaune's teeth clenched together, and his hands balled into fists. A person with her own hopes and dreams cut down because Cinder wanted access to a vault and some ancient item within it.

"I won't ask your forgiveness, Mr Arc. What I will say is that whether you believe me or not, Cinder Fall is a threat that needs to be stopped – whomever it is she is following. The fact she's roped the White Fang into helping her is even more concerning."

"That much I'll agree on. All this..." Jaune waved his hand at the fantasy land around them. "I'm not convinced yet. No offence but I've seen a lot of crazy things in people's dreams. It's going to take a while before I accept this is real."

Ozpin chuckled. "That's fine. Can I trouble you for one last request, then? Something ultimately quite selfish on my part."

"Sure..."

/-/

Ozma breathed deep of the air as he walked into his living quarters and found Salem sat with her handmaidens. They shot him dirty looks, already fed on his latest failures from his wife. Once he entered, Salem stood and bade them leave, staring him down with her sharp eyes. This human form was one he'd not seen in a long time. Thousands of years, in fact.

"Well, dear husband," she said. "Have you come to apologise? Or is there yet more duties for us to undertake?"

Duty. Responsibility. He'd worn it for so long.

But so had she, and she'd done so for just as long as he.

"Only one duty, my love." He strode toward her and placed his hands upon her hips. Salem's brow arched and she crossed her arms, letting him know she wasn't going to be swayed so easily. Ozma smiled back. "Our duty is to decide where we shall live our next life as hermits, just you and I." Her eyes widened. "Yes, my love. I accept your idea. Let us leave this royal life aside and live as just two people in love."

Salem's entire body trembled. "A—Are you serious?"

"I am. My love, will you live a life with me away from all—"

He couldn't finish because she had flung herself at him. "Yes! Yes! Oh, Ozma, a thousand times yes! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Her tears ran down onto his shoulder, and he held onto her tightly, his own eyes stinging with moisture.

"No, Salem. Thank you. Thank you for always standing by me and for putting up with this for so long. I should have done better by you. I should... There is so much I could have done better."

"That doesn't matter! That doesn't matter anymore, Ozma! Oh, we'll have such fun. Even if it's the next life, to spend it away from this." Pushing back, she smiled at him with tears running down her cheeks. "You're a wonderful man. I love you so much!"

"I love you too."

His request, a selfish request of Mr Arc, but one he couldn't regret asking for. Ozma surrendered himself to the dream and let it feel real, as Jaune Arc swept him and the memory of his wife away from a castle and out to a cabin in the middle of the wilderness. A place where he and Salem spent their years sitting side by side, leaning upon one another, and raising four wonderful girls in peace and tranquillity.

When he finally awoke from the dream what felt like decades later, Ozpin found himself laying in his bed in Beacon with wet cheeks and a heart full to the point of exploding. He felt strong and alive, refreshed in a way he hadn't for thousands of years.

"Even if it wasn't real, it could have been," he whispered, rising from the bed, and slowly making his way to his en-suite bathroom. "Oh Salem, I should have done better by you. Perhaps then, this could have all been avoided. If only I'd listened."

Regrets were easy. It was living with them that was hard. Ozpin turned the tap on and let the cold-water rinse out, cupping it in his palms and splashing it across his face. He held the water there, bathing himself in its cold embrace and washing the last traces of sleep away.

Whether it was a consequence of the young man's Semblance or something else, he could remember the dream in vivid detail, up to and including the feeling of Salem's skin against his as they slept together. It didn't fade like most other dreams did. That was a relief, because he felt otherwise that he might have had to beg Mr Arc to do it again.

A Semblance like his could become addicting if I were overexposed. How many people would long to have one more night with a departed love? Or to see their family one last time?

It was all the more reason to help Mr Arc keep it a secret, lest his gift be turned against him as people begged him to let them experience the happy moments in their lives once more. Still, he couldn't help but wonder what Salem would think of it, or if she even dreamed at all. It was an empty thought exercise since they couldn't exactly fly the boy to the Grimmlands.

As the water drained out between his fingers, Ozpin let out another sigh – a satisfied one, this time – and stood up, grasping the edge of the sink, and staring at himself in the mirror. He stood there, staring, wondering what about his own reflection kept calling to him. He looked as he always had, with his tan skin, strong jaw, and rough, black hair. A little sleepy perhaps, but he could be forgiven for that at his age.

His age...

Which was above fifty, not in his mid-twenties.

As he was at that moment.

Ozpin's jaw hung open.

"Well..." he finally managed, feeling just a little dizzy. "This is going to be difficult to explain..."

Oh no, he's hot! Also, in his prime.