Disclaimer: I've ripped off a lot for this story, so would like to acknowledge L. Frank Baum for writing "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz" and all its companions from which I have borrowed information and inspiration, the writers and directors of the film "The Wizard of Oz", E.H. Harburg for writing the lyrics to "If I Only Had a Brain" and "Somewhere Over the Rainbow", Neil Young for "Heart of Gold", and Dante Alighieri for the quote on Pride [Chapter Seven]. I own nothing and surrender all my rights as a living breathing author.

Chapter One

Prophecy or In Which The Characters Receive A Warning

Dorothy woke with the sun shining on her face. She rolled onto her side and squeezed her eyes shut, irritated. Her cheek brushed against soft, curly fur and she peered out from under her lashes at the figure lying beside her. He was still sleeping, his chest rising and falling steadily with each breath. His mane was spread out on the silk-covered pillow beneath his head and looked golden in the early morning sunlight and Dorothy's face was resting on a section of it.

She sat up. She suddenly felt the urge, like an incessant itch all over her body, to get out of the room. She got up and snatched the emerald silk robe that was pooled on the floor and wrapped it around her shoulders. The bedroom door opened silently and she slipped into the hall. The polished marble was cool beneath her bare feet as she walked, her robe billowing around her. In the bright morning light, her smooth skin was as pale as porcelain, showing no scars or signs of labor. Since the departure of the wizard, Dorothy hadn't worked a single day. In fact, she had barely lifted a finger. There were enough servants in the Emerald Palace; she didn't even have to feed herself if she didn't want to. Scarecrow took care of the politics, Tin Man worked the military, and Lion provided the entertainment. But she didn't want to bother with him now.

So her bedroom was presently occupied; that's what she had a second room for. Once the door was securely shut, she wandered to her dressing table and sat down, gazing at her reflection in the oval mirror. Her long chestnut curls were tousled and she ran a hand over her hair to smooth it. The deep emerald of the robe looked good against her fair skin and dark hair. She smiled at herself and her lips shone red in the morning light.

Later that afternoon, Dorothy was immersed in a thick layer of foam in her massive marble bath when there was a timid knock on the door.

"What?" she snapped.

A maid peered her head around the door, looking nervous.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Miss, but there's someone who would like to speak to you."

"Who is it?" Dorothy didn't like being disturbed, especially when she was in the bath.

"Sir Lion, Miss," replied the maid.

Dorothy rolled her eyes and settled back against the tub. "Let him in."

The maid ducked out and a moment later Lion entered. He surveyed the room haughtily and then smirked at Dorothy.

"Terribly sorry to disturb you."

"I'm sure," she said. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

"You left rather early this morning," he observed, leaning against the counter of the vanity.

"Did I?" said Dorothy.

Lion growled softly in response. "Not very polite to run out on your guests."

"You overstayed your welcome."

"You've never minded before," he said, his voice low and gravely in his throat.

Dorothy raised one of her legs from the soapy water and ran a sponge over it. She smirked as she saw Lion watching her. His tail twitched.

"Was there something you wanted?" she said, dropping the sponge into the water.

"I was going to give you a warning," he said. "But now I'm tempted to leave you to the wolves."

"Wolves, really?" said Dorothy. "Are they as bad as the Lions?"

"Worse," he replied. A lazy grin spread over his face.

"What was the warning?"

He didn't say anything for a few minutes. Dorothy was tempted to argue, or to get out of the bathtub and persuade him to tell her, but he spoke again before she could make up her mind.

"Tin Man was looking for you."

"And why is that?" said Dorothy, stretching out in the water.

"Surely there must be some thrilling military development that requires your immediate attention."

"Didn't he tell you what it was?"

Lion glared at her over the hand he had been examining.

"Oh that's right," she replied, keeping her voice low. "You didn't merit an invitation to the guard. What was that requirement that you were lacking? Bravery, I think it was."

He growled deeply in his chest and before Dorothy knew what was happening, he had strode across the room and leaned over her, one hand on either side of the bathtub.

"I wouldn't want to join your army of monkeys and machines even if you got down on your knees and begged me," he hissed, his face dangerously close to hers. She could feel his hot breath on her skin and noticed how much sharper his teeth were than hers.

"That's something you'll never have to worry about, Lion," she whispered in reply, drawing out his name like a curse, like a thing rather than a name.

He growled again. "Don't fool yourself, Dorothy. Just because the Wizard vacated the post doesn't make you Great and Powerful anything." He stood up. "Your reign is a joke. Be grateful that your Munchkin subjects are too ignorant to know better."

He strode across the room and the door closed behind him with a loud click.

She didn't actively seek him out, but Tin Man found her eventually.

"Why don't you come for a walk with me through the palace?" he had said in his stern voice that always made Dorothy feel like she was a child being scolded. It didn't matter what superficial gifts the Wizard had bestowed upon him; Tin Man's chest was still nothing but an empty can.

But Dorothy went with him, only because she had nothing better to do and was bored with sitting around in her rooms, yelling at maids, and plotting her revenge on Lion. She met Tin Man in the main hall and he escorted her through the palace and out into the bright and busy courtyard.

The market was calmer than usual and a warm breeze wrapped around Dorothy's shoulders. It was late afternoon and most of the merchants had packed up their wares but a few still lingered in their stalls, peddling the last of their goods.

"Dorothy, it's been brought to the attention of the guard that there have been some border infractions in the north woods."

"Mm hmm," Dorothy replied.

"We can't be sure if they are rebels or terrorists, and we don't know what they want. They have made no demands."

Dorothy paused to examine a pewter mirror engraved with intricate roses. The Munchkin merchant smile eagerly over the table at her, but Dorothy put the mirror down without a word. She moved down the avenue, Tin Man at her elbow.

"Without further knowledge, we can't be sure the level of threat," said Tin Man, who had taken his eyes off of Dorothy to peer around the side of a stall. A small boy peered back at him with sparkling green eyes.

"Right," replied Dorothy, leaning around him to glimpse a stand of wind chimes.

"Look," said Tin Man, turning away from the boy, "I can't help but feel that you don't—" but he was cut off.

"Your Majesty!" cried an old Munchkin woman who had limped out of her stall to intercept Dorothy. She came up to Dorothy's waist and was draped in faded scarves and shawls. Her wrists glittered with a dozen metal bangles and her ears were heavy with metal hoops. Her wispy grey hair was tucked under a scarlet scarf tied over her head. She smiled up at Dorothy, her face a mass of leathery wrinkles.

"My lady, please, if you would grant me the honor of telling your fortune, it would be the greatest honor of my life!" The old woman dropped to her knees and lowered her face to Dorothy's red satin slippers.

"Don't be ridiculous," said Dorothy, taking a step back. "That's not necessary."

Tin Man motioned to the rank of guards that had been following them and they stepped forward to restrain the old woman.

"No," said Dorothy, holding up her hand. The old woman looked up at her, her eyes wide with surprise. "Tell me my fortune, Munchkin. I'm curious to know."

The old woman struggled to her feet, but slapped away his hand when Tin Man reached to help her. Then she held out a brown, wrinkled hand to Dorothy, her palm up in request.

Dorothy hesitantly extended her own hand to the woman, who took it and turned her palm to the sky. She examined it for several long moments, her brow creasing in concentration. Then the woman's head fell forward onto her chest, her eyes shut, her hand still firmly holding Dorothy's.

Dorothy glanced at Tin Man, annoyed. The old woman had fallen asleep while telling her fortune? She should have known better than to let the old crone touch her hands with her dirty stained ones.

Dorothy tried to pull her hand back, intending to have the guards escort the woman to a hay stack where she could sleep it off, but as she moved the old woman tightened her stubby fingers around Dorothy's wrist. Her head rolled back, facing the sky, and her eyes opened. They had rolled to the back of her head, showing only the whites. Her mouth fell open and words poured from her throat, deep and ominous despite her high-pitched voice.

"Beware the coming of the fourth sister, the rightful ruler, for she will make claim to the throne and depose all those who stand in her way. Her powers are beyond any others. Beware the coming of the fourth sister. False gods take fear."

The woman's head rolled forward again and her hand released Dorothy.

Dorothy stumbled backward and Tin Man reached out an arm to steady her. She flinched away from him, her face hardening as she looked down on the old woman, who was swaying on her feet, with disgust.

"Get her away from me," she said.

Two guards hurried forward and grasped the woman, one on each arm, and led her away.

"Dorothy," said the Tin Man, moving once more to her side. She pulled away again.

"Don't touch me," she hissed. She turned from him and strode down the avenue of stalls, leaving a wake of curious Munchkins behind her.

As far as grey matter went, everything the Wizard had went to Scarecrow. Tin Man felt a pull somewhere in him, somewhere near his heart he would have thought, if he hadn't know better. Ignoring her demands, he followed Dorothy back into the palace. She had just pushed past a cluster of maids when he caught up to her.

"Dorothy, stop," he said, wrapping a cool grey hand around her wrist.

Her face was contorted in a mixture of anger, fear, and embarrassment.

"Is this a joke?" She said it with all the spite she could muster.

For a moment he didn't know what to say.

"She's just an old woman."

"'False gods take fear?'" Dorothy spat.

Tin Man shook his head. "A phrase she picked up. A repressed memory from a story she heard, called up by a sudden fit of dementia." He was trying to convince himself as much as her.

Dorothy shook her head and Tin Man felt another tug in his chest.

"It's nothing to worry about." The words poured from his mouth as though someone else had said them. He sounded calmer than he felt. "There is no fourth sister. There is nothing to fear. Dorothy…" He held out a hand to her and touched her shoulder. She looked up at him, her brown eyes wide. She looks so young. It passed and her face hardened as she stepped back from him.

"I want her arrested for fraud. She is never to set foot in the market again."

And Tin Man was left alone in the hall to watch Dorothy walk away.