FIC: Quicksilver Etchings 2/?
Title: Quicksilver Etchings: History Lessons
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to L. Frank Baum, Sci-Fi, and each actors creation of those characters.
Rating: PG-13 for innuendo
Warnings: Spoilers through Part III, adult themes
Pairings: DG/Cain, pre Glitch-Ambrose/Azkedelia
Summary: Letters tell a story. But so do DG and Cain's actions, which both Ahamo and Azkedelia find fascinating.
AN: Okay, so I got way into the history of the O.Z., taking from both a little bit of World War II knowledge and a lot of “Wicked” geography. I hope it doesn't bore you - I actually find history of anything incredibly fascinating, and this is the first opportunity I've had to make an entire history up. Maybe I'll do a timeline, someday. I'm kind of of the belief that the Gale line is a long one(did you see how deep that sepulcher went?), and has been in power for, perhaps, a few centuries, which makes it entirely possible that the events of Wicked can correlate with the O.Z. of Tin Man.
Alright, so it's just an excuse to use a lot of Wicked references. I also have a fanart at my home page that I could use some feedback on.
Chapter One
Quicksilver Etchings
History Lessons
Azkedelia could remember only a very little from her past that was not tainted by the witch. Even her memories of her father and mother, of DG, had been picked apart and used for nefarious purposes. And Az had simply had to watch as the only thing tethering her to Az seemed to disappear in a haze of witch. There was one memory, though, that had not been taken from her - one the witch had not sought until she was grown, and though by then Azkedelia had stopped fighting, she fought for this. She'd actually thrown the witch away from it, locked it up - and she'd never thought of it again, until the day after the eclipse, while DG teased her Tin Man over breakfast and Ambrose - Glitch - spoke to the Queen enthusiastically of their travels through the O.Z.
She had been ten annuals - nearly an adult, she'd thought then, certainly old enough to not need constant supervision, and since her parents were still teaching DG to read, she'd been stuck with a guard. Or something like it.
Ambrose Fiyero was her mother's favorite advisor, really a close friend. He was young, he was ambitious, he was definitely going places. She had always felt a little intimidated in his presence, and, truthfully, she also sometimes wished he would just go away. He talked too much. He made her feel like a child.
He was so smart.
“So Princess Azkedelia. What shall we do today?”
Az shrugged.
“Well that's not much help, is it? Perhaps a walk through the...” he paused at her frown. “No. Maybe a visit to the library?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Alright, I see I'm getting no where. Where would you like to go, Azkedelia? Anywhere in the world that we can get to in a day, and I'll take you there.”
Azkedelia stared up at him. “Anywhere?” He nodded. “In the whole world?”
“That can be reached in a day, yes.”
“You promise you won't say no?”
“Well of course I do. I did say anywhere.”
Azkedelia paused. She knew exactly where she wanted to go, but he had never, ever let her go there - why would a silly promise change that?
“Well?”
“I...”
“Mmhm?”
“What about your lab?” She asked it quickly, the words running together, and then cast her gaze downward so he wouldn't see her pout at the answer she knew was to follow.
“My...lab.”
She nodded, biting her lip. Oh, how she wanted to see it. He was so smart, he was just sure to have all sorts of ingenious ideas.
“Any place in the world and you want to see my little old lab?”
Azkedelia nodded again. Why wouldn't he just tell her no? Unless he... she glanced up, to see him looking down at her with... something. She'd seen it on her father's face, a few times, when he looked at her mother, but she didn't know what it meant.
“Well, by all means, then, lets the both of us go, before someone tries to stop us. Adventures are frowned upon for future Queens, you know.” And he took her hand, taking off at a trot through the labyrinth of corridors of the palace, an odd skip in his step and that strange look on his face.
She'd known what the witch would do with the memory. She would have torn it to pieces, warped it beyond repair. She would have stripped it for the details of Ambrose's machines, and plans. And in her mind she'd known that there was another reason, as well. The memory had always been a bright light, in the dark recesses of her mind - and by then she'd grown up enough to know what the look meant.
It was a look that Wyatt Cain was giving her sister from across the dinner table. They'd given up on bickering when Lurline had interrupted them for the fourth time, and instead DG had ended up deep in conversation with Jeb Cain, talking about his travels across the O.Z. Jeb, who had come to the table wary and a bit unsure, had quickly turned animated and exuberant, and spoke at length, and in great detail, of the scenery, and of the skirmishes, and of his father (he nearly glowed whenever he spoke of Wyatt Cain - pride barely scratched the surface of his love for his father). It wasn't a strange occurrence, really, to see normally taciturn men turn into fountains of knowledge in DG's presence. It was a gift DG had, to look and feel welcoming to even the most unsociable of people.
“...and dad had to go back for him, and got shot in the process. I swear, he's always gotta be the hero.”
“You got shot?” Azkedelia glanced at Cain, who rubbed a hand across his right shoulder.
“Just a flesh wound.”
“You got shot. You never told me you got shot.”
“It wasn't a big deal.”
“That's why you didn't write for a month and a half!”
Cain frowned. “Look, it really was just a flesh wound. Nothing to worry about.”
“I wanna see it.”
Cain's face turned an odd shade of red. It was nearly purple. “What?”
“Show it to me.”
“Well,” he stumbled. “It's healed, there's nothing...”
“So show me the scar.”
He chuckled uncomfortably. “The dinner table isn't exactly the place to strip down to show you my war wounds, DG.”
DG, in turn, gaped at him like a fish for a moment before turning her gaze to her plate. She coughed, and let out a strangled “Oh.”
Azkedelia forced herself not to smile too much as her father cut across the silence with some inane observation, and was startled to realize that Jeb had been trying to catch her eye. He grinned and did a minute head shake, then turned back to his meal. She felt a jolt go through her, and stared down at her plate for a moment, trying to force any thoughts out of her head.
She'd ruined Jeb Cain's life. It had been her fault that Wyatt Cain ended up locked in an iron suit for nine years - her fault that Zero had been let loose to rage upon the remaining Cain's, her fault that Adora Cain was dead. And yet, even after all that, Jeb Cain was willing to forgive - to smile and jest about his father and DG?
Azkedelia, too late, returned a forced smile, already feeling herself close off. DG told her there was a name for her illness - a name for the way she coped with people, and situations. Classification, though, did little to help Azkedelia when the nightmares came, or when she found herself turning from smiling to confused. She sometimes felt like a half of a person, who felt responsible for the things she did, but had never really had control over those things. She couldn't forgive herself as easily as others seemed to forgive her. And she certainly couldn't forget.
A hand on her arm startled her, and she turned to see Glitch giving her a worried look. “Are you okay?”
She plastered a very fake smile on her face, and nodded. “Fine.”
He held her gaze for a moment, and she saw Ambrose behind his eyes, intelligent and intuitive. She'd never been able to hide her feelings from Ambrose. Instead of pressing, though, Glitch nodded perfunctorily, and eagerly joined the conversation that was again revolving around the motorbike DG wanted so dearly. Cain was glowering, and Jeb was listening interestedly, trying not to look too eager, and Raw was purposefully not touching DG, casting odd glances between her and Wyatt Cain. If it were possible, he might have been blushing.
Still deep in an enthusiastic explanation of the mechanics of the motorbike, which Azkedelia was sure she would usually find unimaginably interesting, Glitch slipped a hand into hers, squeezing for a moment, and with the comfortable weight of his hand tucked in her own, Az tuned into the dinner again, smiling and laughing with the rest.
Dear Cain
I think you just don't want me to find out something embarrassing from your mentor. His stories, no matter how senile, are awesome. I especially like the one about you accidently shooting another cadet in the ass and spending the next week dressing his wounds for him and waiting on him hand and foot.
Is that true? Because I'm sure it could be something he mixed up over the years.
French is a language. One of the romantics. It's spoken in France, but since you don't have a France, there's no one to speak French. Actually, I had a friend from France, and he'd speak it to me sometimes, but the truth is it isn't all the romantic. It's mostly just nasally.
The fact that you're still righteously trying to protect me from the Boogeyman and everything else is really just annoying as hell and also strangely flattering and as your Princess I command you to stop worrying about my safety and worry about your own. And not tell my parents about my accidentally hearing them talking. The fact that you could get hurt because of me makes me wish you were here, instead of who knows where in the O.Z.
And what are Animals? And how are they different from animals? And why are you so damn aggravating???
And just because you said I shouldn't, I am so arranging a trip to the Vinkus. And by the way - my mom went there once, when she was a princess, so that argument? Totally null and void. Just so you know. Maybe you should do a little research before you go around making comments like that.
My life has officially become a Disney film. Or a sucky version of one. Now that I've got about two months of princess lessons behind me, Lurli my mother has decided that it is time for that most horrible of all royal rituals, courting. Which probably would be nice, or at least flattering, if every single prince or noble in all of the O.Z. wasn't a primping, grasping pretty boy who just wanted a nice girl on his arm and an even bigger kingdom to be in control of. Which makes no sense, because the O.Z. is run by the Queen, thank you very much, and none of them are ever going to see anything under their control beyond a few servants and maybe a guard or two.
I miss you.
Things here are
I miss you.
I know it's kind of stupid, seeing as I knew you and Glitch and Raw for what, five days? before the eclipse, but I feel like you guys are the only people I really know in the O.Z. Raw's gone to round up the rest of the Viewers who are still in hiding, and Glitch has become a lot more Ambrose, lately, and I haven't seen you in at least two months. I feel kind of alone. Which is lame, because I have a million people at my beck and call, and a million more who want to spend all their time with me. I just...wish I knew how to get used to things.
I hate that I miss you
Anyway, here's something I found to be not dead boring which is what most Outer Zonian history is.
Lurlin My mom is named after THE Ancient who started the O.Z. Or at least, that's how the myth goes. Apparently Queen Lurline gave birth to Ozma, who 'created' the O.Z. and became it's queen. Though here it (I hope!) deviates from my mother. Lurline, it's disputed, was either the one who saved the O.Z. - although it wasn't the O.Z. back then, it was just some barren land surrounded by desert- from the darkness, or the one who bathed it in darkness. Although I guess, now that I've written that down, it's kind of ironic, isn't it?
The robo-'rents say it's just a bedtime story, but guess what? There's all kinds of references to Animals in it - and Az, apparently, knows a little bit about them. Though she won't tell me.
Yet.
Personally I think even bedtime stories meant put the “fear of the Gods” in children have to have some real events behind it. Every story has it's origins. Nothing is just made up out of the blue, no matter how weird it turns out in the end.
You'll have to tell me all about Gillikin - I'm interested to know about the Shiz ruins. Weren't they the location of a violent attempted coup during Dorothy Gale's reign? I swear I read something about it in one of the awful history books, but after a while history all kind of oozes into one blob and I can't remember one event from another.
Sincerely,
With Lo
Yo
Hope you're well,
DG
DG
Sorry it took so long to get this to you. Turns out Shiz was also a rebel holdout. The messenger who brought this was captured by a group of scouts in the Pertha Hills, and one of our scouts spotted the guy. Good thing, otherwise we probably would have walked straight into an attack. You missing me saved a lot of lives, princess.
Harrison wasn't lying. The part he forgot to tell you was that I shot the guy because he jumped out at me in the firing range, and that he spent a month after that doing grunt work. Embarrassing stories are great when you leave out half the story.
French sounds like Evian. I'm sure you'll soon have more nasally foreigners whispering in your ear - both Prince Gregor and the Duke of Chevellaux are rumored to be...hands on.
The fact that you still need protecting makes me less than happy. You'd think you could just squash the curiosity long enough to realize some things are better left well enough alone.
Knowing me Raw, Glitch and me for five days doesn't change the fact that we were close. You saved Glitch from the Eastern Guild, you ran into my life wielding a stick to try to save me and my family from Long Coats got me out of the Suit, you saved Raw from the Papay. We went through a lot together in those five days. I get the same feeling sometimes. Like you guys are the only people in all of the O.Z. who know me. Who I know.
It'll get better. You just have to give it time.
Besides being a rebel stronghold, there's not much to say about the ruins. There's not much left of them. Though they must have been something in their heyday.
Sincer
With
Yours,
Wyatt Cain
Ahamo Gale (formerly Linus Henrick Beatrix Frederick Frederickson) knew a lot about falling in love with a Gale girl. It happened quickly, and it crept up on you, so that before you knew it - without a care for anyone else - you were head over feet, and there was no turning back. You dreamt of intense eyes, and large and all-encompassing smiles, and mostly you dreamt of the way her voice lilted over your name like a prayer.
So he knew what Wyatt Cain was going through. And, were it not for his fatherly protective streak, he might even have sympathized with the man.
As it was, he was happy to watch a little suffering in the name of love.
“Oh, come on! If I have to wear a butt bow you have to wear a freaking cummerbund!”
“DG, dear, the bow is a traditional part of the dress, I don't -.”
“Look, I grew up in Kansas, not the O.Z. Nothing about me is traditionally Outer Zone. And I hate the bow. Its gaudy and it makes me look like a bridesmaid from hell.” She turned to the tailor currently fitting Cain, and pointed an accusatory finger. “You will fit him for that cummerbund.”
Ahamo chuckled as Cain turned an angry glare on DG, and continued to watch his daughter fidget uncomfortably. “It's traditional,” he told Cain with a shrug.
Wyatt Cain groaned. “Why the hell did I think it was a good idea to escort you?”
“Because I'm insanely attractive and a superb conversationalist.”
Cain squirmed under the gaze of both of DG's biological parents. “Right. That.”
“And you can't retract the invitation, either. You'll just have to deal with wearing something besides your duster and really tight pants.”
Ahamo choked on the drink he'd been in the middle of swallowing, barely catching the way both Cain and DG turned bright red, and waved off his wife's hand at his back as he coughed.
He forgot, sometimes, how blunt his daughter was. Whereas Azkedelia still seemed nearly unable to spin an entire sentence together with enthusiasm, DG was always excited, always ready to say something. And she rarely thought about her words before they leapt from her mouth.
It was something he found both amusing and aggravating - one day her mouth was going to start a civl war. She'd spent too long on the Other Side - it would take longer, now, to teach her how to be a diplomat. Six months had obviously not tempered her mouth any.
“I can't! I thought I could, but this is ridiculous! The bow is not happening! Take it off.”
The dressmaker turned wide-eyed to the Queen, who opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by DG.
“Hey, dressmaker, look over here, at me. As your Princess and future Queen, I order you to get rid of the bow.”
“DG, really -.”
His daughter held up a hand. “Look, mom, I'm sorry. But I'm the one who has to walk around in this thing for hours and hours, and I'm not going to spend my birthday trying to balance twelve yards of fabric on my ass. The bow has got to go.”
Cain scratched his ear uncomfortably. “Does that mean I don't have to wear the cummerbund?”
Dead silence was followed by a shriek as DG threw her arms up. “You know what? Don't even wear the suit. Show up naked for all I care! Or just don't come!” she hopped angrily from the stool she'd been standing on for the past hour, yanking at fabric as she went. Ahamo caught snippets of her muttering, then watched her reappear from behind a changing screen wearing jeans and a ratty tee-shirt, pulling her hair down from it's elastic. She glanced up at Wyatt, and frowned, half in consternation, half something else.
“I just thought it would look nice, is all,” she murmured, shrugging her shoulders. “You don't have to wear a suit, if you really don't want to.”
She pushed out of the room, and Cain made a quick movement like he meant to follow her, but then paused and sighed, running a hand through his hair. He seemed to have forgotten that there were other people in the room. He glared up at the ceiling, throwing out a quick “Damn” before excusing himself as well.
Ahamo smiled at his wife. “You Gale girls never could make it easy on us poor men.”
Dear Cain Wyatt,
I don't know if you're getting any intel on what's going on in the rest of the O.Z. but there's some bad news. You remember telling my mother that Zero had friends in high places, and that setting him up nicely in prison for too long wouldn't bode well for anyone?
You were right.
Some lawyer-type came to visit a couple weeks ago, making little inquiries about prisoners, and even though we all knew something was up, we didn't do anything about it because he was bound to make a fuss otherwise, and what the O.Z. does not need right now is a fuss.
He came back two days later with some washed up, payed off former Supreme Court Justice and demanded Zero's bond - which should have been set monstrously high for what he's done, but no one has come forward to act as a witness to crimes.
So Zero's out. He's on house arrest in some insanely huge house near Lake Chorge, but his attorney has set up a case in his defense and right now it looks like there won't even be a trial, if someone doesn't step forward.
So I sent a couple of depositions out with this letter. I know it's a lot to ask of you, but if you're up to it, it would really help if you filled one out. If you do, just make sure that, when you sign it, the messenger is there to see you do it. We've had at least ten thrown out already because there wasn't a witness to the signing, and Az is apparently an unreliable witness.
I wish I had better news.
Or someone to really talk to. I feel like I'm practically turning you into my own personal shrink. Az... she's completely suffering from PTSD, and as hard as I try to be there for her, she really needs someone else who can just listen and be a listener, and not a sister, or a friend, or a mother. She's gotten steadily worse, since the eclipse, and now she's listless. She doesn't eat, she doesn't sleep - and when she does she has awful nightmares. She's lost so much weight she looks like a skeleton, sometimes, and I can't shake the feeling that I have a ghost living across the hall from me.
I feel like Disney owes me a whole lot of money for misrepresentation. This is supposed to be the happily ever part.
Instead the O.Z. is on the brink of civil war, and my friends are in the line of fire, and I don't know my family, and even if I did know them they're all broken, in their own ways. Az is a shadow, and my dad is still stuck in the suspicion and secrecy of the Realm of the Unwanted, and my mother's been locked in solitary for fifteen years. Glitch has gone off on some secret mission to foreign dignitaries, and Raw is spending his time healing prisoners, and reaching those banished. And you're miraculously catching resistors just in time to not be killed, and the man who ruined yours and so many other people's lives is sitting in the comfort of his home and gloating over the possibility - probability - of getting off scott free. I wish you'd just left him to die in that stupid iron suit.
I feel like I've been lied to.
Or like I'm failing everyone. I was supposed to save the world, and instead I find out I set the witch loose, and that the O.Z. is nearly in chaotic revolution.
And you were completely right about the Evian's. They were fawning and handsy and to make matters worse, do you know what they brought as gifts? People. They brought people as gifts. Needless to say, I let them know they weren't exactly going to be welcomed back with open arms.
I wish we could just go back to running from Papay's and jumping off cliffs and killing mo-bats. That made sense, in some weird way, but this...
I'm a little lost.
Anyway, your lesson for the day has nothing to do with my depressing life. Do you know where “Tin Man” came from? Apparently, right around the time Dorothy Slipped through, some witch from Shiz (Shiz was practically a witch training camp, did you know?)- I'm still stuck in that one book, and officially hate Horrible Morrible for her awful textbooks - turned a Munchkin into iron completely by accident. Well, she turned out to have issues with Dorothy, and in the end Dorothy had to kill her (I get the feeling that there's a complete other side to this story that's been wiped from Horrible M's history).
But according to another text book, someone got the clever idea to use that accidental spell to enslave the Munchkins, and, acting on her behalf, enslaved over half of the Munchkins in Munchkinland (I'll even throw in a little geography for you: what used to be Munchkinland is now home to places like Milltown, and the Nest Hardings, where you used to live where we met.
Now I'm sure you're wondering why you'd want that connotation for a cop, but that's only half the story.
Anyone who spoke out against it, or tried to smuggle a Munchkin out of Oz was imprisoned and sent to mine iron in Fliaan, and eventually they were nicknamed “Tin Men” which translated into protectors, later, and then become the name for policemen in Central City.
Which used to be made entirely of emeralds, before The Great War. But don't tell anyone. I'm pretty sure that's a taboo thing, here, cause I read it in a book that had obviously been hidden for a long time.
So essentially you really are a protector. Is it bad that I find that insanely funny?
I hope you and Jeb are doing well, and that you'll be back soon.
Miss you,
DG
Dear DG
Hopefully the messenger has told you already, but I sent four depositions back with him. Jeb and I, of course (I don't know why you even thought we wouldn't) wrote our own, and Jeb convinced a few of his men to give theirs, as well. They're not exactly official, but I hope it helps.
As much as I wish I'd killed the man when I had the chance, I'd never wish that kind of eternal imprisonment on anyone. Even Zero. I still sometimes feel like I'm trapped in there again, watching Adora and Jeb, and I can taste the metal in my mouth, start to lose myself in everything. It's not right for anyone to have to go through that - I hope someone destroys the things.
I wish I could be there for you. I know things seem to be spiraling out of control, but I promise they will get better. Things are looking good here - most of the rebellion seems to have died down with your mother's decree, and the fact that your sister is taking a stand against renegade Long Coats has definitely boosted morale all over the O.Z.
Thanks, by the way, for the care package, especially the coffee - I don't know how you knew I was running low. I have a funny feeling, though, that if you weren't a princess, I'd never have even touched coffee as good as what you sent, let alone be able to drink it every morning from a camp in the middle of nowhere. Maybe save the expensive gifts for things that can't be intercepted by Long Coats on the open road, huh?
I'd never heard that about Tin Men. I always just figured it had something to do with the badges. Course, now that I think about it, the badges were probably a nod to the rest of the history, weren't they? Does Horrible Morrible have a first name, or does she just go by Horrible?
Your sister is suffering from what? I can imagine I have an idea, but we call it shell shock. She's been through a lot. More than most people will go through in an entire lifetime. There isn't much you can do except be there for her. That's all you can ever do, really.
I mi
I miss you too, DG. When things settle down, and there's at least a bit of peace and quiet, I promise I'll come to see you.
Cain
Wyatt
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to L. Frank Baum, Sci-Fi, and each actors creation of those characters.
Rating: PG-13 for innuendo
Warnings: Spoilers through Part III, adult themes
Pairings: DG/Cain, pre Glitch-Ambrose/Azkedelia
Summary: Letters tell a story. But so do DG and Cain's actions, which both Ahamo and Azkedelia find fascinating.
AN: Okay, so I got way into the history of the O.Z., taking from both a little bit of World War II knowledge and a lot of “Wicked” geography. I hope it doesn't bore you - I actually find history of anything incredibly fascinating, and this is the first opportunity I've had to make an entire history up. Maybe I'll do a timeline, someday. I'm kind of of the belief that the Gale line is a long one(did you see how deep that sepulcher went?), and has been in power for, perhaps, a few centuries, which makes it entirely possible that the events of Wicked can correlate with the O.Z. of Tin Man.
Alright, so it's just an excuse to use a lot of Wicked references. I also have a fanart at my home page that I could use some feedback on.
Chapter One
Quicksilver Etchings
History Lessons
Azkedelia could remember only a very little from her past that was not tainted by the witch. Even her memories of her father and mother, of DG, had been picked apart and used for nefarious purposes. And Az had simply had to watch as the only thing tethering her to Az seemed to disappear in a haze of witch. There was one memory, though, that had not been taken from her - one the witch had not sought until she was grown, and though by then Azkedelia had stopped fighting, she fought for this. She'd actually thrown the witch away from it, locked it up - and she'd never thought of it again, until the day after the eclipse, while DG teased her Tin Man over breakfast and Ambrose - Glitch - spoke to the Queen enthusiastically of their travels through the O.Z.
She had been ten annuals - nearly an adult, she'd thought then, certainly old enough to not need constant supervision, and since her parents were still teaching DG to read, she'd been stuck with a guard. Or something like it.
Ambrose Fiyero was her mother's favorite advisor, really a close friend. He was young, he was ambitious, he was definitely going places. She had always felt a little intimidated in his presence, and, truthfully, she also sometimes wished he would just go away. He talked too much. He made her feel like a child.
He was so smart.
“So Princess Azkedelia. What shall we do today?”
Az shrugged.
“Well that's not much help, is it? Perhaps a walk through the...” he paused at her frown. “No. Maybe a visit to the library?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Alright, I see I'm getting no where. Where would you like to go, Azkedelia? Anywhere in the world that we can get to in a day, and I'll take you there.”
Azkedelia stared up at him. “Anywhere?” He nodded. “In the whole world?”
“That can be reached in a day, yes.”
“You promise you won't say no?”
“Well of course I do. I did say anywhere.”
Azkedelia paused. She knew exactly where she wanted to go, but he had never, ever let her go there - why would a silly promise change that?
“Well?”
“I...”
“Mmhm?”
“What about your lab?” She asked it quickly, the words running together, and then cast her gaze downward so he wouldn't see her pout at the answer she knew was to follow.
“My...lab.”
She nodded, biting her lip. Oh, how she wanted to see it. He was so smart, he was just sure to have all sorts of ingenious ideas.
“Any place in the world and you want to see my little old lab?”
Azkedelia nodded again. Why wouldn't he just tell her no? Unless he... she glanced up, to see him looking down at her with... something. She'd seen it on her father's face, a few times, when he looked at her mother, but she didn't know what it meant.
“Well, by all means, then, lets the both of us go, before someone tries to stop us. Adventures are frowned upon for future Queens, you know.” And he took her hand, taking off at a trot through the labyrinth of corridors of the palace, an odd skip in his step and that strange look on his face.
She'd known what the witch would do with the memory. She would have torn it to pieces, warped it beyond repair. She would have stripped it for the details of Ambrose's machines, and plans. And in her mind she'd known that there was another reason, as well. The memory had always been a bright light, in the dark recesses of her mind - and by then she'd grown up enough to know what the look meant.
It was a look that Wyatt Cain was giving her sister from across the dinner table. They'd given up on bickering when Lurline had interrupted them for the fourth time, and instead DG had ended up deep in conversation with Jeb Cain, talking about his travels across the O.Z. Jeb, who had come to the table wary and a bit unsure, had quickly turned animated and exuberant, and spoke at length, and in great detail, of the scenery, and of the skirmishes, and of his father (he nearly glowed whenever he spoke of Wyatt Cain - pride barely scratched the surface of his love for his father). It wasn't a strange occurrence, really, to see normally taciturn men turn into fountains of knowledge in DG's presence. It was a gift DG had, to look and feel welcoming to even the most unsociable of people.
“...and dad had to go back for him, and got shot in the process. I swear, he's always gotta be the hero.”
“You got shot?” Azkedelia glanced at Cain, who rubbed a hand across his right shoulder.
“Just a flesh wound.”
“You got shot. You never told me you got shot.”
“It wasn't a big deal.”
“That's why you didn't write for a month and a half!”
Cain frowned. “Look, it really was just a flesh wound. Nothing to worry about.”
“I wanna see it.”
Cain's face turned an odd shade of red. It was nearly purple. “What?”
“Show it to me.”
“Well,” he stumbled. “It's healed, there's nothing...”
“So show me the scar.”
He chuckled uncomfortably. “The dinner table isn't exactly the place to strip down to show you my war wounds, DG.”
DG, in turn, gaped at him like a fish for a moment before turning her gaze to her plate. She coughed, and let out a strangled “Oh.”
Azkedelia forced herself not to smile too much as her father cut across the silence with some inane observation, and was startled to realize that Jeb had been trying to catch her eye. He grinned and did a minute head shake, then turned back to his meal. She felt a jolt go through her, and stared down at her plate for a moment, trying to force any thoughts out of her head.
She'd ruined Jeb Cain's life. It had been her fault that Wyatt Cain ended up locked in an iron suit for nine years - her fault that Zero had been let loose to rage upon the remaining Cain's, her fault that Adora Cain was dead. And yet, even after all that, Jeb Cain was willing to forgive - to smile and jest about his father and DG?
Azkedelia, too late, returned a forced smile, already feeling herself close off. DG told her there was a name for her illness - a name for the way she coped with people, and situations. Classification, though, did little to help Azkedelia when the nightmares came, or when she found herself turning from smiling to confused. She sometimes felt like a half of a person, who felt responsible for the things she did, but had never really had control over those things. She couldn't forgive herself as easily as others seemed to forgive her. And she certainly couldn't forget.
A hand on her arm startled her, and she turned to see Glitch giving her a worried look. “Are you okay?”
She plastered a very fake smile on her face, and nodded. “Fine.”
He held her gaze for a moment, and she saw Ambrose behind his eyes, intelligent and intuitive. She'd never been able to hide her feelings from Ambrose. Instead of pressing, though, Glitch nodded perfunctorily, and eagerly joined the conversation that was again revolving around the motorbike DG wanted so dearly. Cain was glowering, and Jeb was listening interestedly, trying not to look too eager, and Raw was purposefully not touching DG, casting odd glances between her and Wyatt Cain. If it were possible, he might have been blushing.
Still deep in an enthusiastic explanation of the mechanics of the motorbike, which Azkedelia was sure she would usually find unimaginably interesting, Glitch slipped a hand into hers, squeezing for a moment, and with the comfortable weight of his hand tucked in her own, Az tuned into the dinner again, smiling and laughing with the rest.
Dear Cain
I think you just don't want me to find out something embarrassing from your mentor. His stories, no matter how senile, are awesome. I especially like the one about you accidently shooting another cadet in the ass and spending the next week dressing his wounds for him and waiting on him hand and foot.
Is that true? Because I'm sure it could be something he mixed up over the years.
French is a language. One of the romantics. It's spoken in France, but since you don't have a France, there's no one to speak French. Actually, I had a friend from France, and he'd speak it to me sometimes, but the truth is it isn't all the romantic. It's mostly just nasally.
The fact that you're still righteously trying to protect me from the Boogeyman and everything else is really just annoying as hell and also strangely flattering and as your Princess I command you to stop worrying about my safety and worry about your own. And not tell my parents about my accidentally hearing them talking. The fact that you could get hurt because of me makes me wish you were here, instead of who knows where in the O.Z.
And what are Animals? And how are they different from animals? And why are you so damn aggravating???
And just because you said I shouldn't, I am so arranging a trip to the Vinkus. And by the way - my mom went there once, when she was a princess, so that argument? Totally null and void. Just so you know. Maybe you should do a little research before you go around making comments like that.
My life has officially become a Disney film. Or a sucky version of one. Now that I've got about two months of princess lessons behind me, Lurli my mother has decided that it is time for that most horrible of all royal rituals, courting. Which probably would be nice, or at least flattering, if every single prince or noble in all of the O.Z. wasn't a primping, grasping pretty boy who just wanted a nice girl on his arm and an even bigger kingdom to be in control of. Which makes no sense, because the O.Z. is run by the Queen, thank you very much, and none of them are ever going to see anything under their control beyond a few servants and maybe a guard or two.
I miss you.
Things here are
I miss you.
I know it's kind of stupid, seeing as I knew you and Glitch and Raw for what, five days? before the eclipse, but I feel like you guys are the only people I really know in the O.Z. Raw's gone to round up the rest of the Viewers who are still in hiding, and Glitch has become a lot more Ambrose, lately, and I haven't seen you in at least two months. I feel kind of alone. Which is lame, because I have a million people at my beck and call, and a million more who want to spend all their time with me. I just...wish I knew how to get used to things.
I hate that I miss you
Anyway, here's something I found to be not dead boring which is what most Outer Zonian history is.
Lurlin My mom is named after THE Ancient who started the O.Z. Or at least, that's how the myth goes. Apparently Queen Lurline gave birth to Ozma, who 'created' the O.Z. and became it's queen. Though here it (I hope!) deviates from my mother. Lurline, it's disputed, was either the one who saved the O.Z. - although it wasn't the O.Z. back then, it was just some barren land surrounded by desert- from the darkness, or the one who bathed it in darkness. Although I guess, now that I've written that down, it's kind of ironic, isn't it?
The robo-'rents say it's just a bedtime story, but guess what? There's all kinds of references to Animals in it - and Az, apparently, knows a little bit about them. Though she won't tell me.
Yet.
Personally I think even bedtime stories meant put the “fear of the Gods” in children have to have some real events behind it. Every story has it's origins. Nothing is just made up out of the blue, no matter how weird it turns out in the end.
You'll have to tell me all about Gillikin - I'm interested to know about the Shiz ruins. Weren't they the location of a violent attempted coup during Dorothy Gale's reign? I swear I read something about it in one of the awful history books, but after a while history all kind of oozes into one blob and I can't remember one event from another.
Sincerely,
With Lo
Yo
Hope you're well,
DG
DG
Sorry it took so long to get this to you. Turns out Shiz was also a rebel holdout. The messenger who brought this was captured by a group of scouts in the Pertha Hills, and one of our scouts spotted the guy. Good thing, otherwise we probably would have walked straight into an attack. You missing me saved a lot of lives, princess.
Harrison wasn't lying. The part he forgot to tell you was that I shot the guy because he jumped out at me in the firing range, and that he spent a month after that doing grunt work. Embarrassing stories are great when you leave out half the story.
French sounds like Evian. I'm sure you'll soon have more nasally foreigners whispering in your ear - both Prince Gregor and the Duke of Chevellaux are rumored to be...hands on.
The fact that you still need protecting makes me less than happy. You'd think you could just squash the curiosity long enough to realize some things are better left well enough alone.
Knowing me Raw, Glitch and me for five days doesn't change the fact that we were close. You saved Glitch from the Eastern Guild, you ran into my life wielding a stick to try to save me and my family from Long Coats got me out of the Suit, you saved Raw from the Papay. We went through a lot together in those five days. I get the same feeling sometimes. Like you guys are the only people in all of the O.Z. who know me. Who I know.
It'll get better. You just have to give it time.
Besides being a rebel stronghold, there's not much to say about the ruins. There's not much left of them. Though they must have been something in their heyday.
Sincer
With
Yours,
Wyatt Cain
Ahamo Gale (formerly Linus Henrick Beatrix Frederick Frederickson) knew a lot about falling in love with a Gale girl. It happened quickly, and it crept up on you, so that before you knew it - without a care for anyone else - you were head over feet, and there was no turning back. You dreamt of intense eyes, and large and all-encompassing smiles, and mostly you dreamt of the way her voice lilted over your name like a prayer.
So he knew what Wyatt Cain was going through. And, were it not for his fatherly protective streak, he might even have sympathized with the man.
As it was, he was happy to watch a little suffering in the name of love.
“Oh, come on! If I have to wear a butt bow you have to wear a freaking cummerbund!”
“DG, dear, the bow is a traditional part of the dress, I don't -.”
“Look, I grew up in Kansas, not the O.Z. Nothing about me is traditionally Outer Zone. And I hate the bow. Its gaudy and it makes me look like a bridesmaid from hell.” She turned to the tailor currently fitting Cain, and pointed an accusatory finger. “You will fit him for that cummerbund.”
Ahamo chuckled as Cain turned an angry glare on DG, and continued to watch his daughter fidget uncomfortably. “It's traditional,” he told Cain with a shrug.
Wyatt Cain groaned. “Why the hell did I think it was a good idea to escort you?”
“Because I'm insanely attractive and a superb conversationalist.”
Cain squirmed under the gaze of both of DG's biological parents. “Right. That.”
“And you can't retract the invitation, either. You'll just have to deal with wearing something besides your duster and really tight pants.”
Ahamo choked on the drink he'd been in the middle of swallowing, barely catching the way both Cain and DG turned bright red, and waved off his wife's hand at his back as he coughed.
He forgot, sometimes, how blunt his daughter was. Whereas Azkedelia still seemed nearly unable to spin an entire sentence together with enthusiasm, DG was always excited, always ready to say something. And she rarely thought about her words before they leapt from her mouth.
It was something he found both amusing and aggravating - one day her mouth was going to start a civl war. She'd spent too long on the Other Side - it would take longer, now, to teach her how to be a diplomat. Six months had obviously not tempered her mouth any.
“I can't! I thought I could, but this is ridiculous! The bow is not happening! Take it off.”
The dressmaker turned wide-eyed to the Queen, who opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off by DG.
“Hey, dressmaker, look over here, at me. As your Princess and future Queen, I order you to get rid of the bow.”
“DG, really -.”
His daughter held up a hand. “Look, mom, I'm sorry. But I'm the one who has to walk around in this thing for hours and hours, and I'm not going to spend my birthday trying to balance twelve yards of fabric on my ass. The bow has got to go.”
Cain scratched his ear uncomfortably. “Does that mean I don't have to wear the cummerbund?”
Dead silence was followed by a shriek as DG threw her arms up. “You know what? Don't even wear the suit. Show up naked for all I care! Or just don't come!” she hopped angrily from the stool she'd been standing on for the past hour, yanking at fabric as she went. Ahamo caught snippets of her muttering, then watched her reappear from behind a changing screen wearing jeans and a ratty tee-shirt, pulling her hair down from it's elastic. She glanced up at Wyatt, and frowned, half in consternation, half something else.
“I just thought it would look nice, is all,” she murmured, shrugging her shoulders. “You don't have to wear a suit, if you really don't want to.”
She pushed out of the room, and Cain made a quick movement like he meant to follow her, but then paused and sighed, running a hand through his hair. He seemed to have forgotten that there were other people in the room. He glared up at the ceiling, throwing out a quick “Damn” before excusing himself as well.
Ahamo smiled at his wife. “You Gale girls never could make it easy on us poor men.”
Dear Cain Wyatt,
I don't know if you're getting any intel on what's going on in the rest of the O.Z. but there's some bad news. You remember telling my mother that Zero had friends in high places, and that setting him up nicely in prison for too long wouldn't bode well for anyone?
You were right.
Some lawyer-type came to visit a couple weeks ago, making little inquiries about prisoners, and even though we all knew something was up, we didn't do anything about it because he was bound to make a fuss otherwise, and what the O.Z. does not need right now is a fuss.
He came back two days later with some washed up, payed off former Supreme Court Justice and demanded Zero's bond - which should have been set monstrously high for what he's done, but no one has come forward to act as a witness to crimes.
So Zero's out. He's on house arrest in some insanely huge house near Lake Chorge, but his attorney has set up a case in his defense and right now it looks like there won't even be a trial, if someone doesn't step forward.
So I sent a couple of depositions out with this letter. I know it's a lot to ask of you, but if you're up to it, it would really help if you filled one out. If you do, just make sure that, when you sign it, the messenger is there to see you do it. We've had at least ten thrown out already because there wasn't a witness to the signing, and Az is apparently an unreliable witness.
I wish I had better news.
Or someone to really talk to. I feel like I'm practically turning you into my own personal shrink. Az... she's completely suffering from PTSD, and as hard as I try to be there for her, she really needs someone else who can just listen and be a listener, and not a sister, or a friend, or a mother. She's gotten steadily worse, since the eclipse, and now she's listless. She doesn't eat, she doesn't sleep - and when she does she has awful nightmares. She's lost so much weight she looks like a skeleton, sometimes, and I can't shake the feeling that I have a ghost living across the hall from me.
I feel like Disney owes me a whole lot of money for misrepresentation. This is supposed to be the happily ever part.
Instead the O.Z. is on the brink of civil war, and my friends are in the line of fire, and I don't know my family, and even if I did know them they're all broken, in their own ways. Az is a shadow, and my dad is still stuck in the suspicion and secrecy of the Realm of the Unwanted, and my mother's been locked in solitary for fifteen years. Glitch has gone off on some secret mission to foreign dignitaries, and Raw is spending his time healing prisoners, and reaching those banished. And you're miraculously catching resistors just in time to not be killed, and the man who ruined yours and so many other people's lives is sitting in the comfort of his home and gloating over the possibility - probability - of getting off scott free. I wish you'd just left him to die in that stupid iron suit.
I feel like I've been lied to.
Or like I'm failing everyone. I was supposed to save the world, and instead I find out I set the witch loose, and that the O.Z. is nearly in chaotic revolution.
And you were completely right about the Evian's. They were fawning and handsy and to make matters worse, do you know what they brought as gifts? People. They brought people as gifts. Needless to say, I let them know they weren't exactly going to be welcomed back with open arms.
I wish we could just go back to running from Papay's and jumping off cliffs and killing mo-bats. That made sense, in some weird way, but this...
I'm a little lost.
Anyway, your lesson for the day has nothing to do with my depressing life. Do you know where “Tin Man” came from? Apparently, right around the time Dorothy Slipped through, some witch from Shiz (Shiz was practically a witch training camp, did you know?)- I'm still stuck in that one book, and officially hate Horrible Morrible for her awful textbooks - turned a Munchkin into iron completely by accident. Well, she turned out to have issues with Dorothy, and in the end Dorothy had to kill her (I get the feeling that there's a complete other side to this story that's been wiped from Horrible M's history).
But according to another text book, someone got the clever idea to use that accidental spell to enslave the Munchkins, and, acting on her behalf, enslaved over half of the Munchkins in Munchkinland (I'll even throw in a little geography for you: what used to be Munchkinland is now home to places like Milltown, and the Nest Hardings, where you used to live where we met.
Now I'm sure you're wondering why you'd want that connotation for a cop, but that's only half the story.
Anyone who spoke out against it, or tried to smuggle a Munchkin out of Oz was imprisoned and sent to mine iron in Fliaan, and eventually they were nicknamed “Tin Men” which translated into protectors, later, and then become the name for policemen in Central City.
Which used to be made entirely of emeralds, before The Great War. But don't tell anyone. I'm pretty sure that's a taboo thing, here, cause I read it in a book that had obviously been hidden for a long time.
So essentially you really are a protector. Is it bad that I find that insanely funny?
I hope you and Jeb are doing well, and that you'll be back soon.
Miss you,
DG
Dear DG
Hopefully the messenger has told you already, but I sent four depositions back with him. Jeb and I, of course (I don't know why you even thought we wouldn't) wrote our own, and Jeb convinced a few of his men to give theirs, as well. They're not exactly official, but I hope it helps.
As much as I wish I'd killed the man when I had the chance, I'd never wish that kind of eternal imprisonment on anyone. Even Zero. I still sometimes feel like I'm trapped in there again, watching Adora and Jeb, and I can taste the metal in my mouth, start to lose myself in everything. It's not right for anyone to have to go through that - I hope someone destroys the things.
I wish I could be there for you. I know things seem to be spiraling out of control, but I promise they will get better. Things are looking good here - most of the rebellion seems to have died down with your mother's decree, and the fact that your sister is taking a stand against renegade Long Coats has definitely boosted morale all over the O.Z.
Thanks, by the way, for the care package, especially the coffee - I don't know how you knew I was running low. I have a funny feeling, though, that if you weren't a princess, I'd never have even touched coffee as good as what you sent, let alone be able to drink it every morning from a camp in the middle of nowhere. Maybe save the expensive gifts for things that can't be intercepted by Long Coats on the open road, huh?
I'd never heard that about Tin Men. I always just figured it had something to do with the badges. Course, now that I think about it, the badges were probably a nod to the rest of the history, weren't they? Does Horrible Morrible have a first name, or does she just go by Horrible?
Your sister is suffering from what? I can imagine I have an idea, but we call it shell shock. She's been through a lot. More than most people will go through in an entire lifetime. There isn't much you can do except be there for her. That's all you can ever do, really.
I mi
I miss you too, DG. When things settle down, and there's at least a bit of peace and quiet, I promise I'll come to see you.
Cain
Wyatt