Dead End

[Twisted]

I've been trying to write When Your Dreams Come True, but I can't get any of the characterization right; everytime I try to use Fabala, Nissa, or Aran, they come out differently, so I wrote an AU fic using them. It's just...something that wouldn't let me be. Feedback would be appreciated, but could you give it at www.fanfiction.net/s/2513879/1/? Thank you muchly.

The title is thanks to the song Ana Gasteyer sings on the Hair CD, and I've been on a major SNL kick lately, so she inspired it.


Chapter One: Under Pressure

When the door was opened, the sun shown brightly into the shrine, bouncing off of the decaying statues and prayer requests almost jovially while it stained the stone floor a light, buttery yellow. A mouse squealed as its hiding place was disturbed, and it skittered across the floor to hide inside a statue. Two figures, hidden by the light, crossed through the room over to a small prayer table that was littered with withered roses. One of the figures pushed the roses off of the table and knelt down in front of it, hands clasped in an expression of prayer.

“What good will this do us?” Asked the figure who was still standing.

The other figure didn’t respond; it simply a mixture of Unionist and Lurlinist prayers to the long-forgotten statue, before standing.

“What do you want to do first?” asked the first figure, stepping over to the other. With a shrug, they headed out of the condemned building into the blinding light of the morning.

~

Nissa Upland stood in front of her mirror, frowning. She had to watch her mother hold meetings and sessions all day, and she wanted to look perfect. However, she couldn’t decide between a dark russet dress to offset her pale skin, or a pale blue one to show off her eyes. She jumped when someone knocked on the door.

“Yes?” She asked, turning. The Princess Ozma smiled and nodded towards the blue dress.

“That one seems good.” She said.

Nissa smiled brightly at Ozma, before putting the russet dress away. “Oh, good, I’m glad you said that; it would have taken so long for me to pick one out.” She said. She slipped off her dressing robe and stepped into the dress.

Ozma frowned. “Is that what you’ve been up here doing?” she asked, laughing. She walked over to Nissa and helped take out a few rags from the girl’s hair. “Doing your hair and picking out a dress? Open court starts in five minutes, and your mother’s becoming desperate to find you.”

Nissa tied the dress and turned to look at Ozma. “Five minutes? Why didn’t anyone tell me!” she said, blustering around her room to find the right pair of shoes. “This just can’t be…I’m not ready yet! I thought I had an hour to get ready.”

Ozma shrugged. “You did – fifty-five minutes ago.” She stopped Nissa from knocking over a painting of her father and held the small girl at arm’s length. “Nissa, you look fine; just go downstairs and be you…within reason, of course.” She ushered Nissa out of the room, and walked behind her down the long staircase and into the main greeting hall.

Glinda, the Good Witch, let out a blustery sigh and ran a hand over her perfectly painted face, showing off her painted pink nails. “Oh, thank Oz you’re here, Nissa. I thought you’d be late…” she cut off, but ‘as usual’ hung thick in the air.

Ozma pet Nissa’s shoulder. “She was just getting the last curler our of her hair.” She said, tugging an extra rag out of Nissa’s hair before anyone noticed.

Glinda smiled unsteadily, before motioning to the smaller of two cushioned seats placed in the center of the room. On either side of it sat four leather armchairs ornately inscribed with a golden insignia of a different part of OZ. On the left sat Dorothy Gale, the now-older girl who had saved the country so many years ago and next to her Lord Bromley, Glinda’s betrothed. On the right was an empty seat, and sitting next to it was Destin, Lord Bromley’s nineteen-year-old son. Ozma sat down next to him, while Nissa took the chair her mother had shown her, while Glinda sat in the larger one. She picked up a bell and rang it twice. A Gale Forcer appeared in the doorway, and bowed.

“We are ready to begin.” said Glinda.

The Gale Forcer bowed again and walked out of the door. He came back a few moments later with a portly Munchkin following. “Sir Daed of the Emerald City to see you, Madame Glinda.”

Glinda waved her hand toward the Munchkin, waiting for him to speak.

The Munchkin gulped loudly and played with the hat in his hands. “Madame…my store was recently broken into, and a very valuable transcript that I had behind the counter is missing.”

Glinda raised one pristine eyebrow. “What was this transcript?” asked Destin, looking down his glasses at the man.

The man turned to Destin, and bowed. “Young Lord Nokmyu, I presume.” Destin inclined his head toward the shop owner, waiting for him to continue. “The transcript…it was from the Wizard of Oz himself; a…pronouncement of sorts about her Goodness.” He nodded toward Glinda.

“What do you want her Goodness to do about it?” Dorothy asked, a slightly haughty air apparent in her cool voice.

The shop keeper bowed deeply. “I was hoping she could look for the thief.” He asked. “Just to keep other shop owners safe in the neighborhood; I’m very good friends with some of them, and I know -”

Glinda held up a hand. “That’s enough.” She smiled. “I’ll do the best I can, but I can’t promise any miracles.” She said.

The shop keeper bowed even lower, and thanked Glinda profusely as he was dragged out of the room by the Gale Forcer. After him came a string of shop keepers and wealthy members of the Emerald City complaining about things missing. Nissa was getting bored with all the complaints about things that would just bring other people more money, when the Gale Forcer returned with help, carting two young people with them. Glinda cocked her head to the side while the others sat up straighter to be more imposing. Nissa leaned in closer, trying to get a better view of the two youths.

“Who are they?” Glinda asked. One of the youths pulled forcefully out of the Gale Forcer’s grip. The youth then pulled the brim of a cap far down, obscuring a dark face. The second youth ran a hand through light hair with a rose-colored hand.

“I have no idea who they are, you Goodness, but I caught them pock-picketing from some of the citizens in line.”

The one with the cap seemed to sneer. “Well, how else were we going to get your attention?” Nissa was surprised by the voice – it was deep, with a slight Western lilt, but it was also smooth and nearly feminine.

“Let it go.” Warned the other youth – Nissa could see it was a male. He touched the free one’s arm, and the Gale Forcer let go of him.

Glinda seemed amused. “Well, you have our attention, dears. What seems to be your problem?”

The hidden youth shifted so that the boy was holding most of their combined weights. “I need a physician.”

Glinda looked worried. “For you?” she asked.

A barked laugh, almost a cackle, echoed throughout the small room, and Dorothy and Lord Bromley shirked away from it. “No; for my mother; she’s sick and we have no doctors that will come to us except some medicine men and old women, and for some reason, my father seems to trust you.”

Glinda raised an eyebrow, outright amusement showing through. “You seem to think differently.”

“Yes.” said both youths.

Lord Bromley looked outraged, but Glinda chuckled. “Bromley, I’m allowed to have my Nay-Sayers.” She reminded him. “Where is your mother?”

“In the Vinkus.” said the boy, holding on to the frail body in front of him. “She needs help soon, but we need a doctor that won’t…be in the way.”

Glinda put a painted nail to her lips. “But what of this pock-picketing business?” she asked. “You don’t expect me to help you if you’ve been sent in here for stealing, when everyone before you has been complaining of stolen items.”

“You don’t think we…?”

Glinda shook her head. “I don’t know what to think. However, I’ll give you a week; you can stay with me until then, and if we cannot find the ones who have stolen these items, you’ll be put in jail.”

“You can’t be serious?” Fumed the leader of the two; the hat slipped up, revealing a Winkie’s dark skin and bright blue eyes. “I thought you were Glinda the Good, not some despot.” This was said with a sneer toward Dorothy.

“I am Glinda the Good, but I must take care of my City; you’re too young to understand.” She explained. The Winkie seemed outraged, but the boy whispered soothing words. Glinda smiled broadly. “Well, if that’s it, then…Nissa, will you show Masters…?”

“Master?” The Winkie allowed that almost wicked laugh to bubble again. “Miss; I’m a Miss.”

Glinda seemed confused for a moment, but the Winkie took off the hat, allowing mid-back-length dark brown hair to fall out from under it. “It’s too hard to walk around this city with long hair, Madame Witch.” The girl pointed out. “I’m Miss...Fae.” she said, her voice catching oddly.

Glinda looked at the boy. “Are you male, or are you also a girl hiding in there, somewhere, Master Quadling?” He blushed and shook his head.

“N-no, ma’am, I’m male…Master Aran.” He supplied.

Glinda nodded and turned to Nissa. “Will you show them to the guest rooms?” she asked.

Nissa was lost for a moment, before she went through the motions of getting up and leaving the room. “I’m Nissa Upland.”

Miss Fae’s face contorted slightly. “I know.” She said.

“And I know Fae’s not your real name.” Nissa said a little louder as they left the room. The taller girl seemed perplexed, and Nissa smiled broadly. “I’ve been sitting in there for three hours; I’ve figured out how to tell if someone’s lying, and you were lying back there.” She turned and clasped the other’s hands in her own. “I won’t tell my mother if you tell me your real name? Are you some master pock-picketer, or a runaway princess from the land of Ev?”

The girl seemed surprised. “How old are you?” she asked, somewhat disgusted.

“They’re helping us, please keep that tone out of your voice while you’re talking to them.” said Aran from behind them.

Nissa was slightly hurt. “I’m seventeen; my birthday is at the end of May.”

“Well, that answers that question, Fae. A week a part…that’s…slightly astounding, isn’t it?” Aran asked, holding onto the Winkie tightly.

Nissa looked between the two. “What’s astounding?” she asked.

The Winkie shook her head, before letting out a staggering breath. “Fabala.” She finally breathed out.

Nissa blinked. “Excuse me?” for a moment, she had heard ‘Elphaba’, the name of the Wicked Witch of the West.

The Winkie breathed in again, deeply. “My name; it’s Fabala.”

[emeraldroad]

I've seen this on FF.net. I think it's good so far!

[DancingElphie]

amazing, as always. Really like it Twisted! Excited about whats to come!

[Twisted]

Thanks ^_^ Here's chapter two; hope you like it.

Chapter Two: He Better Love Her Not

Dinner within the Emerald Palace was not normally a grand affair; normally only a dozen cooks were needed. For the night the two derelicts arrived, however, Glinda hired two dozen extra cooks along with several now-flustered maids to serve.

Nissa slumped as Ozma worked the younger girl’s hair into something more delicate than her now-frazzled curls. “I don’t understand why mother’s doing this.”

Ozma poked Nissa in the back with a comb, straightening the younger girl’s posture. “You have to understand, Nissa that this isn’t just your mother’s well-wishes; it’s also rather political. With the enmity between us and the people in the West, we need to show the public that we’re helping them in order to gain their trust. We have no idea who her mother is, so we must help Miss Fae as well as we can.”

She finally pulled Nissa’s hair into a semblance of a bun. She tapped Nissa’s shoulder, and the young girl stood. Ozma smiled. She was about to say something, when a bell sounded through the hallway. “Ah…that’d be dinner; why don’t you go and get our guests of honor?”

Nissa hesitated for a moment, before nodding. “Of course.” She said. She left Ozma and her room and headed up a set of steps. She stopped at the top to make sure she was in order, before she walked towards the room she had put the two young adults in earlier. The door was ajar, and the two seemed to be arguing. It would have been insulting to them if she intruded, so she stayed behind the door, listening.

She could see a shadow, and assumed it was Aran, the Quadling, pacing, as his voice drifted in and out of her hearing regularly. “…could have happened to…a Munchkin man with seven…”

A book closed – Nissa wondered where they had gotten a book from. “A week a part, Aran.” She said, her deep voice solemn.

Aran stopped pacing near the door. “Yes, Fae, we’ve established that.” He sounded like he was teasing her, but his tone changed suddenly. “How do you know, huh? How can we be so sure?”

Fabala let out a small laugh; it sounded defeated, and altogether not what Nissa remembered from earlier. “I just…” there was the sound of paper crinkling, and Aran’s shadow moved away from the door. “Whatever it is…it’s moving; fast. No one knows what it is. They need help, Aran. I just don’t know how to get it.”

There was silence for a moment, before Aran spoke. “Don’t worry; we’ll figure it out soon enough. And if not, you get the bonus of the bimbo blonde.” Nissa’s eyes narrowed once she realized the comment was about either herself or her mother. She composed herself quickly, however, and knocked on the door. There was the sound of shuffling, and Aran opened the door. “What?” he asked.

Nissa smiled pleasantly. “Dinner’s ready.”

“We’re not hungry.” Fabala said from her stooped position on the bed. Nissa’s smile faltered slightly, but it came back fully

“But you must come! Mother expects it, and she’s pulled out all the stops. We’re having…well, I’m not sure what with all the courses, but I’m sure you’ll love it. Our cook is, I must admit, excellent.”

Fabala and Aran exchanged a look, before she sighed and stood. “Fine; lead the way.” The two girls watched each other for a moment, before Aran nudged Fabala, and they left. As they neared the dining room, Fabala grabbed Nissa’s shoulder. “Remember, call me Miss Fae.” She warned.

Nissa frowned. “I know – do you think I’m stupid?”

“No; I just wanted to make sure.” Fabala said gruffly. She started to braid her hair deftly. As she finished, she pulled out a piece of string and tied it into her hair. Nissa opened the doors into the dining room.

Glinda smiled and stood as the trio arrived in the room. Lord Bromley and his son also rose. “Hello, hello Miss Fae and Master Aran! Why, I didn’t get to make introductions earlier. This is my betrothed, Lord Bromley and his son, Destin; I’m sure you know Miss Dorothy Gale and Princess Ozma?”

Fabala eyed Dorothy. “Yes; I’ve heard of them both. It is a…dream to meet you both.” She said. Nissa sat down in a chair Destin had pulled out for her. Aran went to do the same, but Destin stopped him.

“There’s no need.” The older young man said. He pulled out the chair and smiled at Fabala. “Please, take a seat Miss Fae.” He said. She sat down as he slid the chair back into towards the table. He walked back to his chair. Aran stood uncomfortably for a moment, watching the other two males. Glinda sat, as did Destin and Lord Bromley, so Aran sat next to Fabala.

The salad and soup came and went, and soon they were sipping drinks while they waited for the main course. Glinda looked over at Fabala.

“Now, dear, what is wrong with your mother?” she asked kindly.

Fabala looked down at her napkin. “She’s been having chest and stomach pains that have stopped her from being outside or doing anything; my father’s had everyone who’s ever done anything with medicine in the Vinkus come to see her, but they’re all puzzled.” She said.

Lord Bromley nodded towards Aran. “And where do you play into this, boy?” He asked.

Aran was taken aback by the rudeness of Bromley’s question. “I don’t understand, sir.” He said as mildly as he could.

Lord Bromley took a sip of wine. “How do you figure into the story of a Winkie coming for help with her mother? Did you two meet on the road, or are you a servant of some sort?”

“Or are you siblings?” Ozma asked, sending Lord Bromley a disgusted look. Glinda cleared her throat, and Bromley backed down, looking abashed.

Fabala gagged on a sip of wine and pulled it away from her, blushing deeply. “I’m sorry.” She said, coughing.

“It’s quite alright, dear.” Glinda promised.

Before Aran could answer Lord Bromley’s question, Destin interjected. “Miss Fae? After dinner, will you come with me so we can go over what artifacts are missing?”

Fabala looked at Destin for a moment, before nodding. “Of course” she said. The main course came, and the talking slowly drifted into quiet mumblings, then died out altogether.

Destin stood as the meal was finished, and walked over to Fabala’s chair. He was about to pull it out, but she stood up on her own. “Thank you, though.” She said. Aran touched her hand; Destin caught the motion. He raised a perfect eyebrow curiously, before leading Fabala into a side room.

[Twisted]

Chapter Three: Steal My Kisses

The room Destin led Fabala into was lavishly designed in pale greens and muted pinks, with full-length windows on the exterior wall. He led her to a high-backed mint-green chair and allowed her to sit down, before he sat next to her at the couch.

He lifted a glass pitcher. “Would you like some water?”

“Oh…no, thank you.” Fabala said, waving pitcher away. “We’ve just eaten; I don’t think I could swallow anything else.” She smiled pseudo-sincerely.

Destin nodded, pouring a glass for himself. “I find a little water helps cleanse the pallet after a long meal.” He explained, before drinking it quickly. He regarded Fabala for a moment as he put down the glass. “Do you mind if I speak frankly, Miss Fae?” he asked.

Fabala resisted the urge to lick her lips. “Of course not, Master Nokomyu.” She said.

Destin grimaced at the distant name. “Please; call me Destin. My father is the Lord, but I am no master.” She smiled wistfully, before poising himself again. “I would be lying if I didn’t say I found you to be intriguing, Miss Fae.” He took her hand. She winced away slightly, but he held onto her all that much more. “These markings on arms are Arjiki, but these designs on your hands look recent; and burned on.”

She pulled her hand away. “They’re the markings of Saint Aelphaba.” She retorted.

Destin smirked. “I realize that. I assume you were named after her, indirectly?” he looked up at her. “You’re eyes are blue. Isn’t that odd for an Arjiki?”

“What of Nissa?” she asked.

“Nissa?” he repeated, looking at her blankly.

“Yes…she has blue eyes.”

“What does Nissa…?”

“Why do you find my name amusing?” she asked. She wondered how he knew she was named after Saint Aelphaba, as he only knew her simply as ‘Fae’.

Destin muddled over the evasion quickly, before laughing. “Isn’t Fae a derivative of the name Aelfaeba?” he picked up the pitcher of water and poured another glass. “Am I sure I can’t tempt you?” he asked. When she shook her head, he sighed “It’s really a waste…did you know that many of the Unionist names fell out of use after the death of the Wicked Witch of the West.”

“I had no idea.” Fabala said, rubbing her hand where he had touched her. He smiled and leaned back.

“So, you’re an Arjiki. And you’re how old? I’d mark a guess at sixteen or so.”

She blushed, laughing slightly. “Seventeen.” She corrected.

Destin took her in, looking rather uninterested. “And you’re unmarried?” he said, only sounding slightly surprised.

Fabala’s head shot up. “Excuse me?” she demanded, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Destin laughed outright at the action. “Please, Miss Fae, allow me to explain myself; I’m studying Ozite Culture at Shiz. In one of my books it said that many young women in Winkie tribes – especially ones who are pretty and good workers, as I’m sure you are…don’t take that the wrong way, please, Miss – are married by the time they turn sixteen. It just surprised me that you’re not.” He thought for a moment, leaving Fabala in an uncomfortable silence, before he looked at her again. “Or are you engaged?” he asked.

Fabala smiled. “Oh, yes, I’m engaged to a man twice your size with a vile temper whom Aran has had to protect me against by spiriting me away under the pretense of needing help for my mother.” She faltered, and Destin put down his glass.

“I believe you’re bluffing.”

“I believe you’re right, for the most part.” She said. She cleared her throat before putting on an airy disposition. “Now, down to business as they say in this City of Emeralds; what has been stolen?” she asked.

Destin seemed surprised by her quick change of topic, but allowed it. “There were five items stolen.” He started.

Fabala let out that odd cackle-laugh. “How very Unionist.” She said. Destin suppressed a surprised retort.

“The first item was a transcript from the time the Wizard was in office. The second was a copy of arrest papers for Madame Morrible. The third and fourth items – the bows of the Cowardly Lion and the Hungry Tiger – both belong to the same woman, a Miss Jellia Jam, whom is Ozma’s personal assistant. Now…the fifth is a bit…well, I wouldn’t go after it.” He smiled at her unnervingly. “It’s the witch’s broom, which was given to a young shopkeeper who used to work within the Emerald Palace.”

Fabala’s eyebrows knitted together in concentration. “So…all these items can go back to the times of the Wizard of OZ?” she asked.

Destin moved closer to her. She stood up as she started to pace, deep in thought. “Yes, with exception to the Hungry Tiger’s bow.”

“Yes, but it was with the Cowardly Lion’s, and if a thief didn’t know which bow was which, than, logically, they’d steal both, just to be on the safe side.” She said, mostly to herself. As she rounded on the door for a third time, Destin stood up and grabbed her.

“Please; I’d rather not have a hole burnt into this rug, as it is rather new, and I don’t want to be blamed for the hole if you put it there.” They stared at each other for a moment, before Fabala pulled away with a mutter of supposed apology.

“Still, this means that there is a way to find out who took these things.” She smiled impishly.

Destin seemed perplexed. “How so?” he asked.

“How many people deal with items from the Age of Wonder?” she asked. “In the City.” She corrected herself quickly.

Destin thought. “About a dozen do, why?”

Fabala’s smile became broader. “Look in their logs and see if they have any of the same regular costumers.”

Destin worked his mouth for a few moments before any sound came out. “That’s brilliant! You said you were seventeen? You should come to Shiz with Nissa.” He said.

Fabala shook her head. “I can’t leave my parents…and what of Aran?” she asked.

Destin huffed. “Oh, what of him, he’s just a manservant.”

Fabala frowned. “He’s not my manservant; he’s my friend.”

Destin started moving closer to her, backing her against the wall. “A friend, and nothing more?” he asked, almost mockingly.

Fabala’s eyes narrowed again. “What is that supposed to mean?” she demanded.

Destin cocked his head. “Isn’t it quite obvious, Miss Fae?” He asked. He grabbed her wrist and looked at the design on the palm. “You don’t seem the religious type to me.” He pointed out, his tone slightly accusatory.

Fabala’s back hit the door, and she let out a grunt. Destin let go of her wrist only to move his hand towards her face. Fabala grabbed his arm and twisted it, until he let out a strangled cry of pain.

“Do not touch my hair.” Fabala said, in warning. Destin lunged at her, pushing her off the wall onto the couch. He tried to grab at her, but she punched him. “And don’t touch me, either.” She spat as she tried to pull herself up. She tried to stop shaking, but she couldn’t.

The door opened, and Ozma popped her head in. “Is everything…okay…in…here. Need I ask?” She asked. Fabala’s breathing caught in her throat as she looked at the princess of OZ. She gulped, trying to get past the knot that had lodged itself there, but she wasn’t able to. Ozma smiled at her kindly. “Don’t worry dear.”

“You little…” Before Destin could finish seething properly, he caught sight of Ozma, and he stopped. Aran looked into the room and looked confused.

“I heard a noise; what’s going on?” he asked.

“Aran!” cried Fabala as she ran to him. She threw her arms around him. He stood there for a minute, unsure about her actions, before he hugged her back.

“Are you alright?” he asked. She said something into his chest, and he hoped it meant that she was alright.

Once Destin slipped by them, only sustaining a mild glare from Aran, Ozma turned to Fabala. “Are you okay, Miss Fae?”

“Yes.” She said, still holding onto Aran.

“Did Destin tell you what you needed?”

“Yes.”

“Then would you like to retire to your room for the evening?” she asked kindly.

“Yes.” Fabala said, her grip on Aran tightening as if he were a stuffed toy.

“I’ll tell her Goodness, then.” The older woman said, before slipping out of the room, leaving Fabala and Aran together. He pet her hair lightly, not changing it in any way. She looked up at him.

“Can we go now?” she asked, looking around the room with disgust. Laughing, Aran led her away, back to their room.

[stars in the sky]

This is definitely very interesting! I"m enjoying it, but I'm a little confused about how all these characters are interrelated...

[Twisted]

;D You're not supposed to know yet. I do, however, promise clues in the next chapter, but I have class all this week, so it may not come out quickly, unless I get ambition tomorrow.

[DancingElphie]

Stars- Have you read Twisted's other trilogy, One if by land, Two if by Sky? That's where the characters come from. I know though! I'm a bit confused on the Vinkus and why Glinda has to go though...

[stars in the sky]

I don't think I have, actually, but now you've piqued my interest. A link, perhaps?

[DancingElphie]

Hold up... I'm getting it. it's great though. She's writing the third one (i.e. When Your Dreams Come True) right now. I personally love them. They were some of the first Wicked fics I read. (These'll be in chronological order).

Entertaining Destiny: www.fanfiction.net/s/1984950/1/

One if by Land, Two if by Sky: www.fanfiction.net/s/2022979/1/

When Your Dreams Come True: www.fanfiction.net/s/2082690/1/

I'm rereading them right now (fan fics are great rewards for working on a chapter of my summer assignment: i get one done, I read a chapter.)

[stars in the sky]

Thanks; I'm on it

[Twisted]

[quote author=dancingelphie board=fanfic thread=1123026951 post=1123644806 it's great though. She's writing the third one (i.e. When Your Dreams Come True) right now. I personally love them. They were some of the first Wicked fics I read. [/quote]

Aw, DancingElphie, you're making me blush. Yeah...When Your Dreams Come True is going to be worked on during computers, so I'll start back on it during school. Scout's honor.

Stars - just know that Dead End is an Alternate reality to those stories; something that's been bugging my brain for a while. Just so you don't get too confused.

[Twisted]

Chapter Four: Destiny Beckoned

Nissa paced around her room, still livid. Dinner had ended hours ago, and by the moon it was nearly midnight. Nissa, however, still wanted to give Destin a piece of her mind. Their visitors, no matter how…unique they were, were still guests, and Glinda wanted them comfortable, not mauled and scared away.

She was pacing back and forth so fast that she didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary until she heard someone sniff in the hallway. She moved away from the light of her open door, and peered at it apprehensively. If it was Destin, she was going to give him a very large piece of her mind. But instead of a figure stopping in front of her door, a shadow passed it. She was quiet and still, straining to hear. Soon, she heard the tell-tale squeak of the stairs to know that someone was sneaking out of the palace. Curious by this reversal, Nissa grabbed a pair of walking slippers and a long, silk housecoat.

She pushed her feet into the slippers quickly, while wrapping the coat around her. She poked her head out of the door to make sure no one else was in the hallway, before following quickly. She skipped the steps she knew made noise in order to keep up with the tall figure she was following. Waiting until the door was nearly closed; she scrambled off the steps and followed at a safe distance.

For all of her life that she could remember, Nissa had lived in the Emerald City. As the daughter of Glinda the Good, however, she had been exceedingly sheltered, and had never gone out side after dark, especially unaccompanied. Nervously, she looked around, skirting around moving pieces of garbage and a particularly nasty beggar with a missing eye and finger.

The figure was cutting through an alley. Nissa followed, trying to regain her bearings without light. They seemed to be heading towards an old mautary, one that hadn’t been used since the middle of the Age of Wonder. She remembered seeing it once; a twin Unionist rectory for Saints Aelphaba and Glinda. The chapel for Saint Glinda was used once a year, at the end of the Celebration Month, but the chapel for Saint Aelphaba had fallen into disrepair.

The figure, however, didn’t seem to notice the chapel for Saint Glinda, and instead made a bee-line for the chapel of Saint Aelphaba. Nissa followed as close as she dared, and once they both reached the entrance, Nissa hid behind a large statue of Saint Aelphaba emerging from the waterfall.

“My little party’s just beginning!” Fabala announced, with more bravado than Nissa had seen so far. A multitude of matches were lit, and torches were hung near a large statue of Saint Aelphaba. A handmade, pointed, black hat had been jauntily placed on its head by an old woman who smiled fondly at Fabala. She was accompanied by a tall man close to Lord Bromley’s age, with dark circles under his equally dark eyes and a pretty younger woman in a novice’s attire.

The man and Fabala hugged, and she seemed sincerely glad to see him, before pulling back to stare at the novice. “I hope I’m not intruding, but I was told about you and your family many times, and I wished to meet you; you’re the only one I can meet of my uncle’s acquaintances.” She said, putting out a hand. “I’m very glad to meet you, Miss Fabala; I’m Sister Saint Janoah.”

Fabala looked at the man with interest. “You’re niece is a maunt?” she asked.

“Well, in training.” The man replied.

Fabala seemed confused. “But aren’t you an only child?” she asked. The man looked at the lighter-haired young woman, before looking back at the man, looking rather chastised.

The older girl smiled, however. “Oh, don’t worry. He’s the closest thing I have to my real uncle, and he spoils me wonderfully.” She promised.

The old woman clucked disapprovingly, before turning to Fabala. “How’s your mother, dear?”

Fabala sat down on a dirty bench. Nissa knelt down as much as she dared on the dirty, possibly rat-infested floor, and watched curiously. She suddenly saw Fabala do something she never expected; she cried. The woman sighed and pulled the tall girl close, pulling out a handkerchief. She dabbed Fabala’s face with it. “There now, dear; it will all turn out for the best. The Unnamed One has its way, and you must adhere, whether you believe in it or not.” Fabala let out a small sob and the woman tisked again. “Now, we mustn’t ruin that beautiful face of yours, must we. Look, you’ve already burnt your hand.”

The man and Sister Saint Janoah watched passively as the old woman calmed down Fabala. Finally, the man spoke. “But, Glinda will help, won’t she?”

Fabala swallowed loudly. “I don’t know anymore. I have to find stolen artifacts before the week is up, and I don’t know where to begin. If I can’t find them, they won’t help, and I can’t think of anyone else…mother…well, father trusts Glinda, though he’s at the edge of his string as well.” The man let out a muffled laugh at that.

“He’s become softer in his old age.” He said. “Though he’s naturally rather soft now, isn’t he?”

“Oh, you’re one to talk!” The old woman said. The man went pink. “Have you talked with Glinda’s daughter?” she asked.

Fabala shook her head. “I haven’t had time to, privately. I don’t want to upset anyone else in that household.”

The man sighed. “Wouldn’t you rather stay with me? That apartment’s been rather empty for the past seventeen years, and you are more than welcome to stay.”

Fabala seemed to laugh at that. “I have Aran, and your apartment, no matter how extravagant, couldn’t hold us both.” She said.

“Ah, yes, the young princess’ knight in shining armor!” Sister Saint Janoah said, mystified. Nissa’s eyebrows rose in confusion.

“We’re childhood friends.” Fabala said flatly.

The man laughed. “Yes, and, as my father always told me, I’m just going through a phase. It just happens to be a very long one.” He smiled brightly. “Well, if you’d like, I can ask around the costume and dressing rooms in the theatres and see if anyone knows about stolen artifacts, if you’d like.”

Fabala stood. “Thank you; it’s getting late.” Once they all turned, Nissa slipped out of the sanctuary, getting a chill. She knew the man; not by name, of course, but because he visited her mother occasionally. They had been school friends, and he had been around while Nissa was younger, and Lord Bromley wasn’t there.

She walked slowly down the street, holding her coat close to her. She turned a corner, and walked into the man missing an eye and finger. He smiled at her, showing that he was missing many teeth as well.

“Well, hello there little missy.” He said, wheezing. He grabbed her arm, pulling her closer to him. “An old man like me doesn’t get much company down here; would you like to be my company tonight?” he asked, hissing out a lecherous laugh.

Nissa started to panic. She tried to pull out of his grasp, but he was stronger than she was. “Please, leave me alone.” She begged.

“Now, why would I do that?” he leered toward her, and she tried to scream, but her voice caught in her throat.

“Do you know whom you’ve got your greasy, disgusting Munchkin hands on?” asked a dark voice from the shadows.

The man glared over Nissa’s arm. She tried to turn, but he yanked her around again. “Who’s you to stop me?” he growled.

“Let go of Miss Upland, under penalty of death, sir.” Fabala grabbed the man’s arm and yanked it off of Nissa. She twisted it and came close to the man’s face, matching his growl. “Stay away from Glinda the Good’s family or I will come after you.” The man pulled away from Fabala and ran into the darkness. Fabala turned on Nissa. Nissa shied away from her; her dark face, stained red from her tears, was fierce. “You followed me.” She said bluntly.

“I thought you were Destin, and I couldn’t find my way home.” Nissa said. It wasn’t an exact lie; she had no idea how to get back to the Palace. She could see it, but couldn’t get to it.

Fabala looked the small blonde up and down, before turning around. “Fine; follow me, and let this be the last time you do so.” She said. She suddenly sounded weary. Nissa wanted to ask what they had to talk about together, but with the quick mood changes Fabala seemed to be going through, she really didn’t have the nerve to.

They reached the Palace, and Fabala escorted Nissa to her bedroom. “Now, be a good little Emerald Citizen and don’t leave your room until breakfast tomorrow morning.” She started away, then turned around. “You do eat breakfast here, right? It’s not some Northern tradition to only have one rather large meal a day I hope.”

Nissa shook her head, not hearing the sarcasm in Fabala’s voice. “We have three meals a day, and you must come eat if you’re in the Palace, whether you wish to or not.”

Fabala nodded. “Well then, I’ll see you tomorrow at breakfast, and not a moment earlier.” She stressed the end of the sentence, before stalking up the steps. Nissa slipped off her slippers and took off her coat. She hung the silk garment on a chair, before lying down in her bed, contemplating what she had seen. The comments, the asides, and the friendliness between those three and Fabala seemed so unlike anything Nissa had ever seen before. She decided that she would ask Ozma in the morning. She closed her eyes and drifted into a fitful sleep, dreaming of a far-off tower where a cloaked woman sat shaking on a cot, with Saint Aelphaba standing above her.

[Twisted]

This is probably the last installment until next Tuesday at the earliest. I have an interview at Emerson next Monday, I'm going to P-town for the weekend, and Wednesday I'm going to see Spamalot (oi) so...yeah. If you're reading this, sorry! But tell me what you think; I'm not so sure I like this chapter. I wrote it while nursing my foot after dropping a chair on it, so...it's kind of blah.

Chapter Five: Expect Only the Expected

“Hey, it’s morning.” Aran said. He picked up his boots as he prodded the lump on the other side of the bed. Fabala pulled herself into a tighter ball, mumbling incoherently about sleep. Aran sighed and sat down on his side of the bed. He pulled a boot on, crossed his leg, and started to lace it up. “You know, if you didn’t sneak out last night, you wouldn’t be this tired.”
Fabala’s dark head popped out from under the bed clothes. “Excuse me?” she said, blue eyes dark with fatigue. “I think I remember waking you up, but you didn’t want to come with me; there is no sneaking around here. Well…if you don’t count Miss Nissa.”
“Nissa?” Aran asked. He turned around, only to be hit with the duvet. Fabala went over to her small batch of items, and took out a clean skirt and a blouse. Undoing her tangled braid, she changed, ignoring Aran’s question for a moment.
When she was done dressing, she grabbed a brush, and sat down next to him. He finished lacing up his second boot, and positioned himself behind her, taking the brush. “She followed me. Last night, I mean.”
“I figured you meant last night, Fae.” He said, hugging her momentarily. “Did she find out anything?” Fabala tried to move her head, but Aran tapped her lightly. “Miss Fabala; posture!” he said in a low voice. She huffed and rolled her eyes, but she straightened and held her head up.
“No; I only know she followed me because she was wandering around in the derelict section of the City, and she had become rather friendly with a rather ugly Munchkin.” She made a face, before closing her eyes and allowing herself to just enjoy being with Aran. They hadn’t been close lately, and it bothered her slightly. He stopped brushing her hair after a few moments, and handed her the brush back. She took it rather unenthusiastically. He hugged her from behind, and she smiled. “I do love you, you know.” She said, looking up at him.
Dark brown eyes stared down at her. “I know.” He said, slightly confused. He smiled, however. “I never doubted for a second…what are we doing today?” he kissed her carefully, and she pulled away from him, slightly scalded. She started to braid her hair again, thinking.
“I was thinking we could walk through the merchant section and see if we could talk to any of the dealers who have lost goods.” She said.
“You didn’t talk to any last night?” Aran asked. Fabala shook her head. She pulled her already-tied boots on, before turning to Aran. He walked over to her, and they left the room.
“There were none out, and by the time I got the princess away from the big, bad derelict, I had no time to go searching any out.” She explained as they walked to the dining room.
Fabala felt a slight twinge of rather sadistic joy when she saw that Destin wasn’t there. It was quickly dissipated as she saw the man from the night before sitting in Destin’s place, talking animatedly with Glinda.
He smiled at her, and winked, and for a moment, Fabala’s chest tightened with anxiety. Glinda didn’t seem to notice. In fact, she noticeably brightened when she saw Fabala and Aran come into the room. “Ah! This is the brave young girl I’ve been telling you about!” she said.
“Glinda, really, she’s Nissa’s age, aren’t you?” Dorothy asked. Fabala nodded mutely, watching the woman aloofly. “Than she’s clearly a young woman.” She went back to her breakfast, and Fabala was eternally grateful.
Glinda merely smiled at Dorothy. “Very true, dear, very true.” She turned back to her guest, all the while motioning Aran and Fabala closer. Nissa looked up at them, seemingly worried, but Fabala brushed the look off as her imagination. “Miss Fae, this is man has heard of your crusade to help your mother,”
“Of course he has; I told him.” Fabala muttered to Aran, who smirked slightly.
“…and has come to meet you. We went to school together; this is Miss Fae. Fae, dear, this is Master Crope, a set designer and painter; he’s very popular with the local merchants, with his paintings and his ranking within the theatre society.”
Fabala curtsied. She caught Dorothy, Nissa, and Glinda all eyeing her, rather surprised that she could orchestrate such a curtsey; Ozma merely went on eating. “How do you do, sir?”
Crope stood, bowing. He seemed genuinely amused by the situation. “Miss Fae, how wonderful to meet you; I’ve heard much already about you.” He said, carefully kissing your hand. “Aren’t politics wonderful?” he teased quietly. Fabala frowned at him.
“Please, dear, come join in breakfast.” Glinda said.
Aran held a chair out for Fabala, who sat down. As he sat down, he looked at the space Crope was occupying. “Where’s Young Lord Nokmyu?” he asked.
Lord Bromley looked distinctly unnerved. “Until he learns exactly how to act in social situations, Master Destin has been quarantined to the kitchens for meals.”
Fabala sighed, thankful, before taking a bite of the food in front of her. She still caught glances from Nissa.
“Do you know who I saw at the Ice Garden, while I was doing sets?” Crope asked Glinda. Her eyes widened with wonder.
“Whom?”
“Miss Greyling.” He said. Glinda blinked, slightly confused, before her eyes went wide.
“My old Sorcery teacher? How is she? Is she still at Shiz? Oh, Nissie, you should have seen this woman; she was twice the witch Madame Morrible was, but she could never conduct our classes. We were always split up, you know – I would go with Miss Greyling and…well…my classmate would go with Madame Morrible.” She gulped, and Fabala held her breath for a moment, looking at Crope. He smiled.
“She’s still at Shiz; she’s taken over all of Morrible’s duties, including Headmistress.” Glinda gasped happily.
“That’s wonderful news.” She said. Fabala glared at Crope for a moment longer, before tucking into her breakfast; she wasn’t sure she could stand eating in any of the Emerald City parlors while going out to search for the missing articles.
She finished eating and stood up. She walked over to where Nissa was sitting. She had to get something out of the way, quickly, before it got to her. “Miss Nissa?” she asked.
“Yes, Miss Fae?” she asked courteously.
Fabala swallowed. “Do you mind talking to me in the hallway when you’re done?” she asked. Nissa blinked. “Of…of course, Miss Fae.” She said, smiling nervously. Fabala nodded, before sweeping out of the dining room, and into the hallway in a flurry of dark hair and pale fabric.