Chapter 1 – Phantoms

They came to her at night, so similar to her visions of the O.Z. from before that she believed their content before she even wondered if it was wise to do so. It scared her; the fact that she could be manipulated so easily by a dream, before she even knew where it was coming from. She had caught herself packing a small bag for the journey when she was reminded of all of the possible threats that could be awaiting her. She was the Royal Slipper, after all – the connection between Earth and the O.Z., and that made her a very valuable hostage should someone feel so inclined. (And oh, how so many did!) She'd found her life threatened a number of times in the year or so since the eclipse, so what made this any different from the deception of someone in person? She was smart enough to know better by now- she'd faced death in various forms, not just in her journey through the O.Z. but afterwards at the hands of various would-be assassins and captors that were always thwarted in the end. Sometimes it was Cain (and she figured this was only because he was the least hesitant of the lot of them, because the others were plenty willing to take action when they got there). But more often than not (and this was occurring with more frequency as time went on) she managed in one way or another to get herself out of trouble. Once, Cain and the others had burst into a tower where she was being held captive only to find DG hugging her guard as he sobbed into her shoulder. She had counseled him into submission. (Most of the time with her there was either magic or a blunt instrument involved…) But in any case, the point was that DG knew danger. So why weren't these visions ringing alarm bells in her brain?

DG forced herself to unpack what she had shoved hastily into a small leather bag on her bed. She diligently folded everything and put it back in its proper place, not because she was concerned with neatness by any means but because it distracted her from feeling the need to think any further about whether the dreams were truth or deception. But of course, as soon as everything was put away again, she realized that it was still only about four-thirty in the morning. No one else would be awake to provide conversation that could distract her, not even Cain. So instead, she perched herself on the edge of her already-made bed (because she had woken with the knowledge that she would not be able to go back to sleep). All she could do now was think, and as much as she tried to think of something, anything else, her thoughts always drifted back to those visions that had been coming to her for about a week now.

This hadn't been the first time she'd sat and thought about the dreams. In fact, the very first night, when she awoke feeling an urgent need to travel miles and miles to follow the vision, she realized how completely insane the idea of doing such a thing was and forced herself to go back to sleep. And since then, when she thought about the legitimacy of the visions, she had always been unable to come to a conclusion. But she couldn't understand why. All rational thought told her that she should be careful and that she should treat them as a threat until she knew otherwise. But for some reason, she just couldn't. There was just something…familiar about them, something she couldn't identify, but something she knew she recognized to a degree that made her judgment lapse. There was something…enchanting…about them…as there had been in the very first visions she'd had of the O.Z. (but still somehow different). She was still very, painfully aware that the whole thing could be the plot of another magic user in the realm to kidnap or kill her. And that was what ate at her the most- she knew the danger here, but she couldn't convince herself to think badly of the visions or whoever was sending them.

This separation between what she thought she should be feeling and what she actually felt ate at her more and more every time she was visited by the dreams again. And the worst part, perhaps, was the fact that she couldn't mention it to anyone. As she sat on the bed reflecting, she pulled her feet up off the floor and hugged her knees to her chest, suddenly feeling cold and vulnerable in her cotton yellow pajamas. She had tried, more than once, when the visions were still relatively new, to tell someone, but something always stopped her. She remembered spending an entire day working up the courage to speak to her mother about it. She'd waited until they were alone in their evening lessons to attempt it.

"Mom?" she began, having been unable to concentrate on her handwriting practice for the past few minutes. Her mother lifted those sad, lavender eyes up to her and smiled that sweet, broken smile she'd come to know so well and DG felt her determination beginning to fall away already.

"Yes, darling?" the queen answered, setting her own writing implement aside for the time being. DG looked upon her mother and all of the history written into her skin and eyes. Her face was lined not with age but with emotion, from so long ago when she had died at the hands of the witch within her older sister, and from all the subsequent years of sacrifices and imprisonment. Her hair was streaked with grey from when she had sacrificed her own magic to save her. But her eyes were the most profound mark that the years of suffering had made on her, those tragic eyes that had beckoned her in dreams. Her mother had endured so much, she couldn't possible ask her to endure any more, not when she could protect her from it. She couldn't let her lose another second of sleep over her. Not ever. At first, she wasn't sure how to recover and her breath visibly faltered for a split second.

"Love you," she said finally, her lips turning up at the corners even as her heart fell into her stomach. Her mother's smile widened, and her eyes brightened ever so slightly in reaction to the words.

"I love you too, my darling," she returned, and picked up her quill again to continue writing her letters. DG did the same hesitantly. She felt her eyes sting in reaction to more or less lying to her mother, but forced her body to cooperate with her deception for now. The next day, the situation proved to be the same with Ahamo. He'd been without all of them for so long, she didn't want to be responsible for taking anything away from him. Besides, even if he would handle the news better, she was sure he wouldn't keep the information from her mother, which would just lead her back to square one.

In Azkadelia's case, DG was even more hesitant. Az had also borne a burden, but she had been far less conscious of everything that had happened to her, unable to actively deal with her own emotions. When she'd tried to tell her, her sister had only been able to look at her intensely with those dark eyes that seemed to ask her what new pain she was going to have to go through. And it made DG remember how broken her sister still was behind those walls of feigned happiness she displayed to the others. To this day, she was sure she was the only one to see past them. Instead of saying what she had been preparing to say, DG instead took her sister's hand into hers, just to watch her face light up with relief and comfort.

When speaking to Ambrose, DG simply found that he couldn't stay in one personality or the other long enough to focus on what she was saying. It wasn't that she felt she couldn't speak to both sides of him at once; it was just that, since his brain had been put back together, he'd had more difficulty remembering things in the short-term sense. Somehow though, he always managed to remember them later, when they could be considered "long-term". Everyone had come to refer to the period of memory loss as "the dark phase" or "going dark". Besides this, he tended to overreact about things nowadays, as if the more emotional Glitch and the more logical Ambrose were battling back and forth for control over the whole brain. Raw she avoided all together, too afraid of what he would See in her if he knew. And Toto too. He knew her well than she liked to admit.

DG's eyes snapped open. She was still seated on the edge of her bed, hugging her legs to her chest. She hadn't even realized she'd closed her eyes. But as he came into her mind, she found her concentration utterly shattered. She hadn't attempted to tell Cain about the visions yet, and she knew now that she would have to, as terrifying as that option was to her. It wasn't his reaction that she was afraid of, although he could certainly be unpredictable when he wanted to… It was just that, out of all of them, even her own family, she was sure he was the one that knew her best. And honestly, that was just so terrifying to her. He would know exactly how she felt, exactly what her doubts and conflicts were, and it was just so crazy to think that he might possibly know her better than even she did. But now that she had found herself preparing to run off into the wilderness for the second time since the dreams began, she realized she had to gather the courage to face him. She glanced over her shoulder and saw the glow of the sunrises beginning to shine through her windows, which meant it had to be at least six by now. (Had she really spent so long thinking about this?) Her head turned back to face the door, remembering the places Cain liked to be in the morning. If he wasn't in the kitchen making coffee or breakfast, he'd probably be in the garden. Despite this knowledge, DG still couldn't make herself go to him, and she quickly became frustrated at her own nervousness.

Eventually, as the youngest princess always seemed to do, she mustered up the courage to face the Tin Man, and descended into the chilly spring morning of the gardens before her fear could change her mind for her. Unfortunately, DG's fears returned to her and gripped her with a vengeance once the moment of truth came (in that stubborn way that fear insists upon people sometimes). Her feet had stomped determinedly across the dewy grass for about twenty to thirty paces before they refused to move any more. DG was even leaning forward in anticipation for the next step when she froze, which lead to a rather confused stumble in which she very nearly tumbled to the ground. She lifted her head to stare at the back of this man, so intimidating and so comforting at the same time, and she found she couldn't will her body to do anything but produce tears.

DG was quite sure she'd never faced anything quite like this before. She had always had at least a slight measure of control until now- even locked up in the sarcophagus a year ago, she had eventually made her way out alone. Until now, that was the most panic she had ever let herself feel. But now she was drowning in the world. She was, for the first time, helpless, and the feeling made her physically hurt. She had not been born to be a helpless girl (something she proved to the people of the O.Z. time and time again after her return). She faced ravenous Papay, corrupted guards and scientists, evil witches, lecherous suitors and even abductors and attempted murderers, and she always managed to emerge from whatever fray as the same, Kansas farm girl she had been going in. She was tough, and she knew this, which was probably why this whole situation was making her fall apart so easily. Facing uncertainty and the only man who could possibly save her from it, DG was more cowardly than she had been even as a child. She was hurt and angry and confused and the way her body refused to cooperate with her wishes made her even more frustrated. She willed herself to stop crying after only one or two drops of salt were wasted onto the ground, angrily wiping the excess water out of her eyes with the back of her hand.

She forced herself to look back up at the figure of Wyatt Cain as the chill of her dew-soaked feet began to shudder up her legs and back. Even her body, weakened from the grief and the lack of sleep, was tired of waiting for something to happen. She wanted to collapse under her own weight and lose herself to forgetful blackness and never have to worry about visions or obligations again. Instead, her feet carried her towards the Tin Man in the gazebo. She'd been standing there motionless long enough that her entire body had gone cold, and as the blood began to pump a little faster again, she felt a sensation like cold needles start in the bottom of her feet and shoot up her entire body in a painful shiver. She halted again when the chill became too much for her, and looked up from the shadow Cain was casting over her in the new, brighter rays of sunlight peeking over the crest of the forest.

"Cain?" she spoke, and her voice broke with a sound as if she were about to burst into tears. Her eyes immediately fell to the ground, ashamed that she'd let her body betray her weakness in that moment when she needed so much to be strong. She cleared her throat awkwardly, already feeling that sting again in the corner of her eyes, and forced herself to look back up. He had already turned and was looking at her as if she were a woman he had never seen before. There was something dark in his eyes, not angry, maybe sad (but she could never really tell with him). When she was brave enough to speak again, her voice was closer to normal, if still somewhat shaky.

"Can I talk to you about something?" She realized then that she was shivering- it hit her like someone had suddenly dumped a bucket of cold water over her head. She folded her arms against her chest and cursed herself for forgetting to at least grab a sweater and some shoes. She felt like an idiot standing there in front of the Tin Man, shivering and staring at her feet as they gradually seemed to turn blue before her very eyes.

Cain hadn't heard DG's determined approach, hadn't been aware of her miniature breakdown behind his back, hadn't even known she was there until her voice rose from the silence around him, barely loud enough to hear and utterly broken in a way he had never heard her voice before. It was rare that she was ever able to catch him off guard, but it had happened before and he would be a fool if he tried to say it would never happen again. In any case, at that noise that honestly scared him, Cain immediately turned and saw DG in a state that scared him even more. His heart was immediately pounding as he saw how unlike herself she was. She hadn't slept the night before, and it showed in her face. Her eyes did not sparkle and there were bags under them, made only darker by the pallor of her skin. She was so white he almost mistook her for one of the wraithlike visions he saw of her more than he liked to admit. (Because, you see, sometimes in the night he would wake up thinking she was dead. And he wouldn't be able to breath. And he could only console himself by making his way to her bedroom and peeking in to see the gentle rise and fall of her form in the bed.) His eyes stung involuntarily until he realized he was not dreaming and she was very real and not a phantom. But she still looked as if she had laid out in the grass and let the dew soak into every inch of her, the way she was shivering head to toe. And she was standing there in her strange nightclothes from the Other Side and without any long sleeves to keep her warm and she just looked so lost in the night, he had to swallow the lump that was growing in his throat.

"Of course, Princess," he said, as quickly as he could bring himself to. He immediately regretted it as she closed her eyes and seemed to curl into herself in response. She tried to stifle something that sounded like a sob, but what he suspected to be her attempt at a laugh. Her legs looked ready to buckle underneath her own weight and he could only focus on the white dryness of her lips as she finally answered him again.

"Please, Wyatt-" and her voice died away here because she so very rarely called him by his first name, it was so familiar. And they both felt the affection in it and couldn't move for a moment. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably and forced her raspy voice out again. "Don't call me that. I need my friend, not my bodyguard." This may have sounded harsh to him any other time, but the way she was crumbling before him he was sure he would have agreed to anything she said in that moment. In this case, he responded by coming down the stairs to her and removing his long jacket, setting it over her shoulders and pulling it tight around her to encompass her it what had formerly been his own body heat.

"DG," he said evenly, trying to remain calm because he knew it was what she needed. "You know you can tell me anything." He couldn't bring himself to let go of her, and he was ashamed to admit that it was because he selfishly needed to be assured of how real she was. She still seemed ghostly to him. He was too afraid that if he let go of her, she would fade and leave him alone. (And if there was anything he had learned from this girl and the dreams he was having of her, it was that he never wanted to be without her.) But, as selfish as it might have been for him to hold onto her like that, she showed him that she needed his arm there as much as he did by leaning into him and taking a moment to inhale slowly and try to calm herself down. At the shaky sound her breath made, Cain couldn't help but frown thoughtfully. His hand rubbed up and down her arm unconsciously to warm her as his eyes flickered back towards the castle. "C'mon," he said, after a moment. "Let's get back inside."