This fan fiction was based off of the pictures my mom took of England and Scotland (she didn't take me with her, still pouting), plus the soundtrack of the musical 'Wicked'. I didn't see the play until long after I completed this story, and the book offended me too much to finish it, so don't be surprised if it strays from the original idea again.

Chapter One: Pride

Deep within the caves of the Doom Mountain, a restless figure walked back and forth in the huge cavern that made up his study.

His luxurious kimono was the finest to be had, as well as the instruments and books that littered the surrounding tables. In the middle of the room, a large crystal ball slowly faded black.

"There has to be a way to fix this," the man hissed, running a hand through his thick golden hair as his glowing green eyes narrowed in concentration.

"What's wrong, Father?"

The man looked sharply at the mouth of the cave, where his young son was standing with a blanket still around his shoulders as a yawn escaped his throat. The man growled angrily.

"Your future, my boy. I just got some terrible news."

The young boy cocked his head, but came forward as his father gestured him to.

"What's wrong with my future?" he asked. The older blonde pointed a finger at the accursed crystal ball.

"Your future wife will be born within twenty-four hours."

The lad brightened.

"Really?"

"Yes, but she'll grow to be a far more powerful magic-worker than you." He resumed his pacing as the young boy watched him, curling up on a stool. His young face was troubled, his mint green eyes confused.

"What's so bad about that?" he asked. His father wheeled around.

"What's wrong with you?!" the elder blonde demanded. "Women are difficult enough to keep control of when they can't do magic, but if she's going to be more powerful than you, then she'll walk all over you!"

"I thought you said hardly anyone knows we're real."

"I did, but…" he sighed. "Our time is coming, my boy. Soon, we will regain the glory of our ancestors, when they ruled this land with an iron fist. The descendants of those rebels will pay dearly for their centuries of tranquility. That's why you need this witch as your wife. You'll need her great power." He swung around fast again, accidentally sending an ink bottle flying into the air behind him, heading straight for his son.

"There has to be a way to keep her under control-" he stopped as the ink bottle crashed behind him. He wheeled around to see his precious green ink spill down his desk and over his son. He growled angrily again as he took out a handkerchief.

"How many times have I told you not to play with my things?! You look like a spotted salamander!"

"But I didn't," the boy protested, trying to avoid the handkerchief as it explored his face. "You-"

"Wait."

The young blonde's mouth shut automatically, stunned to see a look of wonder on his father's face. He turned the small head slightly, to get a better look at the large green spot on the boy's cheek.

Slowly, an evil smile appeared on his face.

"Of course. Why didn't I think of that earlier?"

xxXxx

"Quick! Duck for cover!" a boy shouted as he ran through the streets. "A tornado's coming, get into your cellars!"

Alerted during his breakfast, the Mayor Yoshioka ate one last bite of egg before looking out the window.

Yes, he could see the monstrosity in the distance. He tore off his napkin, and called out.

"Sakura?! There's a tornado on the way!"

"I heard, sir!" She ran past the room and out the door. "I need to get to my mother!"

"Hey, what about me?" he called after her, but she was already slamming the door behind her. He growled his dissatisfaction, and made the way to the basement by himself.

The dark brunette eased open the door and bolted it shut behind him. Huddling around a log in the dark, he couldn't help but feel a little lonely. All of his underlings were with their families, or at least their friends, while the town leader was left alone.

For one wistful second, he wished that his family were here as the wind howled outside and something broke upstairs.

Then he came to his senses and started banging his head on the log in order to clear it. No, he didn't need either of those traitors. He didn't need anyone, as long as his image remained spotless.

Something crashed outside against the side of his house. And whatever it was, had to be much bigger than a tree. Almost on cue, the wind lessoned, and then vanished altogether. Still waiting a few more moments, he finally decided to go see what the damage was.

Mute crawled out of his basement, more than a little alarmed to see some thing pressed against two of his windows. Feeling a little frightened, since the wall looked about ready to cave in, he ran out of the door with a dagger, just in case it proved to be unfriendly.

He ran around the side of his house, where a sizable crowd had gathered. He stared in amazement.

It was… he wasn't quite sure what it was. It wasn't made of plaster or wood, and shone in the sun like it was made from metal.

But, who would make a house of metal on wheels, let alone one so small? There wasn't even a harness at the front to attach horses to (not that he could tell which side was the front). And there were windows all along the sides of the thing, so that if someone was inside it, they could see in any direction without difficulty.

Curious, he moved his way through the crowd and looked in through one of the windows.

There seemed to be a sort of bed in there, as well as someone lying across it. But the glass was too dark, and the sun too bright, in order to tell too many details about the comatose man.

Slowly, the shadowy figure began to move around. Feeling a tinge of fear, Mute turned to the other people.

"There's someone in there! Stand back!"

The crowd immediately backed up several paces, wondering who on earth could possibly have survived being carried by a twister from who knew where?

Softly, they could hear a groaning coming from within, although it was faint. The strange moving house shook slightly, as unsteady footsteps were heard.

With a jolt, part of one of the sides broke off while still strangely being attached on one wall. Everyone yelped and jumped back further, as a strangely shod foot came down on the dusty earth. The other one followed it as a strangely gloved hand balanced on the sort-of door.

Then… he appeared.

He was holding a gloved hand to his head, grimacing angrily, but his hand alone wasn't sufficient to disguise the glorious golden hair that crowned his head. His clothes were so strange, quite unlike any kimono Mute had ever seen before. He groaned a bit, as he opened his eyes.

"He could have at least warned me that a tornado would be involved."

Mute gasped, getting a good look at the man's eyes, which were as green as spring grass.

He turned to the crowd and yelled as loud as he could, just in case there was anyone that couldn't see for themselves what this meant.

"The king has returned to deliver us!"

A roar of applause nearly knocked the handsome young man off his feet, leaning heavily on the strange contraption he had arrived in.

"I think there's been a misunderstanding," he said, raising one hand to shake it insistently in the negative. "I'm no king. I'm just trying to find a friend-"

The town leader bowed low before him, not listening to a word he was saying. Behind him, he could hear all the townspeople also kneel to the long-awaited royal.

"We've been anxiously awaiting your return, Your Majesty! We're under siege by a terrible witch, one that only you have a prayer of defeating."

The young man was about to protest again, but groaned as he closed his green eyes in pain.

"I think I'll go back inside until this headache blows over." He made to walk back inside the strange thing, but Mute managed to get his attention.

"Surely you would rest better in a real bed, Majesty. My home would be honored to shelter you."

Those gloved fingers tightened their grip on the golden strands, but the handsome man sighed.

"I'll accept your hospitality, but I'm not your king."

The town leader wanted to protest once more, but bit his tongue sharply. The monarch was not in the best of tempers, and it would be smarter to wait until he was in a better state of mind.

He gestured to his home, and led the weary young royal into the best room in the house, to sleep off the headache.

Yes, there would be time later to ask for his assistance.

(For the record, the name 'Mute' is pronounced 'moot-eh'. Just to avoid confusion.)