Hello! Azai, here. I really love RWBYQUEST, and I wanted to do something for it, so I wrote this. It's not necessarily sad or overly happy, and I hope I did these wonderful characters justice.

Also, I am aware that Glynda is not wearing glasses in the cover. I tried to draw them, I really did, but I couldn't (I spent a good hour on just Ozpin's glasses...). Please — pretty please with a cherry on top? — review? It really makes my day.

Ozpin looked up mournfully. Glynda stood above him, hands on her hips and eyebrows raised. "Really?" she asked disbelievingly.

He sat up and slumped over his desk. "It's all gone. . . ." he whispered.

Glynda ruffled his hair, and sat down on the desk next to his head. Voice mock-sympathetic, she murmured, "It'll be okay, Oz. Don't you worry."

But he could hear the laughter in her voice and raised his head to glare at her. "How can you be so calm?" he demanded.

Her smile turning into a smirk, she retorted, "Easily."

Ozpin buried his head in his hands again. "Glynda. . . ." he moaned.

She patted his head. "You know what they say. . . . No use crying over spilled coffee."

Ozpin jerked his head up, not sure if he felt insulted or amused. "It's not just coffee!" he exclaimed.

Glynda raised her eyebrows, looking down pointedly at the mess on the floor. "Of course, Ozpin. Of course."

Glaring reproachfully at her, Ozpin mumbled, "I don't drink coffee."

Her expression became confused, and she slid off his desk and onto the floor. "You don't?"

Ozpin shoved her gently. "You've known me for how long? And you didn't know this?"

Completely baffled, she shook her head. "You don't drink coffee?" When he merely stared at her, she asked pointedly, "Then what do you drink?"

Unblushingly, he said, "Hot chocolate."

Glynda stared at him for four solid seconds. "Hot chocolate," she repeated blankly.

Ozpin nodded seriously. "Of course. What else would I drink?"

With a shrug, she leaned forwards and pressed her lips against his. Startled — she was normally very reserved about these sorts of things — but not in any position to complain, Ozpin lifted his arms and pulled her closer to him.

When she finally pulled away, she was smirking again, her eyes sparkling. "It was coffee," she whispered triumphantly.

Still slightly in a daze, Ozpin asked, "What?"

Expression becoming gentle, she clarified, "Your breath. Coffee."

"Oh." He just stared at her, only half-paying attention. Dust, she was beautiful. He wasn't normally one to dabble in the shallow façades that normally seemed to come with love. Chocolates, flowers, songs. They'd never seemed important to him. But moments like these — no papers to sign, no students causing problems, and with her beside him — somehow managed to make him do the silly things. Like what he was about to do.

Ozpin pulled Glynda onto his lap. That was quite possibly one of the most ridiculous things he had ever done in his life.

Half-laughing, she asked, "What are you doing?"

Without skipping a beat, Ozpin said, "I love you."

Glynda's smile softened, and she replied, voice losing its hint of humor, "I love you, too."

Despite being a normal thing among normal couples, those words rarely ever passed between them. They were an unspoken constant. Something to be acknowledged, yet never something that needed to be confirmed. He brushed his lips against her forehead, and she narrowed her eyes. "What's wrong?"

Ozpin exhaled. Of course she would immediately jump to conclusions. "Nothing," he assured her. When her frown merely deepened, he repeated, "Nothing."

She began to open her mouth, but he silenced her by kissing her again. She placed her hands on either side of his head and deepened the kiss. Yes, he could most definitely get used to this. But first.

Ozpin's hands roamed up her back until, with an expert flick of his wrist, he pulled one of her hairpins out.

Glynda's reaction with instantaneous. She pulled away from him, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. "Ozpin!" she exclaimed, but he knew she wasn't truly angry. Maybe a little irritated, but that was easily fixed. She hadn't pulled her hands away from him, which was always a good sign.

Ozpin merely grinned roguishly at her. He knew very well how she did her hair, of course. The specific pin he had pulled out was the one that kept most of her hair up. Now, over half of it dangled down. Grumbling under her breath, she turned to pick up the pin. When she realized that it had fallen into the puddle of spilled coffee, she raised her head to glare at him.

The silver-haired man, in response, pulled another pin free. With a sigh, she helped him, untangling the rest of her hair and allowing the blonde locks to fall over her shoulders and down her back.

"There," she said, once she was finished, "You win."

"Do I get a kiss?" One quick question, furtively asked.

"Must you ask?"

Ruby looked over at King, smothering a yawn with one hand. "It wasn't your fault. That spitter just got lucky," she mumbled. King's dark expression faded, and he shrugged his shoulders. The young Huntress-in-training continued, still yawning, "Can you see how Prof— Glynda's doing?" He nodded his box head, standing.

King didn't need to ask why she'd asked him. He didn't need to remind her that he wasn't Ozpin — that he could never be Ozpin. He was fine going to see how Glynda was doing. Maybe that was wrong of him; he only reminded her of a person that she couldn't possibly get back. He knew his mannerisms reflected those of Ozpin's — their conversation while he had been bandaging her sholder wound was proof enough of that.

He wasn't sure what he felt about that. It scared him, a little bit, that he'd been another person. That he wasn't meant to exist. But he was here now, and he was determined to make that matter.

Gingerly, King went into the room that Glynda was in. He could hear crying, and it surprised him. He may not be Ozpin, but he had Ozpin's memories. And Glynda rarely cried.

She was always so strong. Abruptly, a memory filtered in (for some reason, the cracks on his head hurt a little bit more). A memory of her voice. "There are strong people in this world, but in the end, it is those who are strong that break first." He remembered asking for her reasoning for that, and she had smirked at him. "Because it's the strong people who are stupid enough to try and take on the whole world's problems." He remembered her looking pointedly at him— no. Not him. Ozpin.

His hand brushed the wall as he lingered, uncertain, just beyond her sight. Abruptly, silence fell. There was the shuffling sound of cloth against cloth, and Glynda stood. She had obviously tried to hide the fact that she'd been crying, but unsuccessfully.

"King." She blinked in surprise.

King awkwardly shuffled his feet, twisting his scarf nervously. "Um."

The blonde's lips twitched slightly, and she beckoned him over to where she had been sitting before. When she sat, he sat down next to her. "You should probably sleep." For all that she appeared to be looking at him, there was a far-away look in her eyes, as if she was speaking through a memory.

King shrugged again. "We all should," he said finally, "but that doesn't mean we all can."

Glynda's lips twisted into a wry smile, but it was a smile nonetheless. "Touché." With her good arm, she fumbled with a strand of her hair, obviously at a loss for words.

"How's your arm?"

"It's fine."

This silence stretched longer than the last. Surprisingly, it wasn't uncomfortable, or even strange. For all that he hadn't even existed a month ago, King found that he knew enough to call this a companionable silence.

He liked it.

"Do you remember everything?"

King looked at Glynda, confused. She was looking away; it was obvious she had spoken without thinking.

"I'm sorry," she began, but he interrupted her.

"I remember a lot of things," he admitted, "but sporadically. Bits and pieces." His friendly expression darkened. "My mistakes."

Almost immediately, Glynda retorted, "Not everything is your fault." He looked at her, startled by the vehemence she could produce even in her exhausted state. Standing, she moved over to his side of the table to sit next to him. "You're not the only one who makes decisions."

King just stared at her, the memories of all his—

"Besides," Glynda continued, "Those weren't your mistakes. They were . . . Ozpin's." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "And mine."

King sighed. Ruby had told him to come out here to see how Glynda was doing, and he was getting distracted. "How are you?"

Startled by the turn in the conversation, she looked at him. "As well enough as I can be, I suppose."

King purposefully yawned. To his delight, she yawned as well, although she was tactful enough to attempt to hide it behind her hand. "Sleep," he advised her.

Glynda's eyelashes fluttered, and, without even thinking about what he was doing, he pulled her over to him, holding her close to his body. The feeling was comfortable, reminiscent of the dreams he had had before he'd met Ruby. Glynda's eyes closed, and he felt the tension in her body drain away.

Too late, he realized his mistake. He wasn't Ozpin. He could never be Ozpin. He couldn't love Glynda. He couldn't. Shouldn't. Couldn't.

Then why did he?

King was terrified. He knew that he would die before Ruby — before Glynda — escaped from Beacon. He knew that he didn't belong in this world. He knew that he was currently holding a woman who wasn't his — who should never be his. But at that moment, he couldn't care less.

Monarch looked down at the cold ring in his hands, examining the bright green gem.

He had King's memories. He knew of the doomed love the entity had held for that Goodwitch woman.

Monarch's lip curled with disdain. Entities and the people they had once been were different. King — that guy — should have known better than to have affections for someone like her.

His fingers curled around the ring, and the metal bit into his flesh. He was superior to both King and Ozpin, and he only had one goal.

His eyes strayed to the body — her body. Gritting his teeth, Monarch made to throw the ring aside.

But, for some inexplicable reason, he couldn't. Who did she think she was? Who was she to mess with his mind like this?

Why couldn't she have just run like the others?

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