**
The Fourth Dance
**

The announcement was completely out of the blue.

DG did her best to smile through the surprise that struck her as her mother called for the band to stop playing so she could make an announcement.

It was the second anniversary of the Eclipse, two annuals passed since the Witch had been separated from her sister and eternal darkness had been averted over the whole of the OZ.

Two annuals, DG mused, standing in her rightful place beside her sister as their mother addressed the crowd and spoke of the healing that had undergone the kingdom over that time. The Guilds had been re-established, tribes and races thought long-lost remerging to swear allegiance to the House of Gale following the completion of the tour DG and Az had undertaken of the country, draining themselves of their light often in order to bring light to the darkness the Sorceress had spread.

They'd never asked anyone for forgiveness, but it appeared the people were more than willing to give it. It warmed DG's heart and lessened the guilt she still carried even if only a little.

But the people were still a little wary of Az, she knew. Oh, the unfailing support and loyalty of the former Resistance Fighters went a long way – Jeb had seen to that, given his closeness to both Princesses, though notably the elder of the two. But there were still some who looked at Azkadellia and couldn't see past the Witch who had worn her face.

Az had grown remarkably over two annuals but still had her doubts and insecurities. She was strong, but there was still nights DG would slip into her room, hearing her sister's sobs, and hold her close as she wept for the annuals she'd lost and the atrocities committed by her hands.

Still, the announcement came as a shock.

"I hereby announce, following Princess Azkadellia's decision to abdicate her rightful claim to the throne, that my daughter Princess Dorothy Gale will succeed me as Queen."

The crowd burst into applause and cheers but DG didn't hear it past the roaring of blood in her ears. She felt Az take her hand, was distantly aware of her sister speaking.

"I'm sorry, Deege. I just can't do it. Thank you for agreeing."

Her sister thought she'd been told; her sister thought she'd accepted the role.

She hadn't.

She hadn't known it was hers to accept.

How she survived the following minutes, DG wasn't sure. She vaguely remembered catching a glimpse of concern on Raw's face – he'd made an effort to attend, being one of the heroes of the Eclipse and the recently appointed Leader of his tribe – and the pride on Glitch, no Ambrose's, face as he applauded alongside his newly reunited lover.

Her breath caught in her chest, the laces on her corset suddenly feeling more restrictive than they had earlier in the evening. The edges of her vision were starting to go dark as she tried to breathe, tried to remember how.

An arm went around her waist, and she was vaguely aware of moving, and then there was cold air against her too heated skin and a familiar voice rumbling in her ear to just 'breathe, Deege'.

"Laces," she managed to gasp. "Too tight."

Strong, sturdy fingers got to work in an instant. It was entirely improper, she would realise later, for the General of the Royal Army to be seen unfastening the bodice of the newly appointed Heir Apparent, but DG couldn't bring herself to care then, nor would she later.

Besides, he didn't untie them entirely, just loosened them enough so she could fill her lungs without the sensation of being her chest being crushed, and then stood beside her, rubbing her back soothingly as he murmured assurances into her ear.

"It's okay, DG. You're okay. Just breathe for me, darlin'. That's it." He was so close but somehow she didn't feel crowded. She felt the warmth of his body keeping the chill of the night air at bay, the heat of his palm against her back through her dress. "That's it, sweetheart."

"I..." She broke off, her voice a mere whisper. She licked her dry lips and tried again. "I don't want to be Queen, Cain. I can't."

He didn't tell her she was wrong. He didn't tell her she could choose not to be. As her gasps for breath slowed and the tears she hadn't realised were streaming down her cheeks stopped, Cain drew her against him, settling her against her chest and held her there until her breathing evened out.

She could feel his heart beating through his shirt, smell the scent she associated as being uniquely Wyatt Cain, Tin Man, best friend and definition of safety all around her.

The music must have restarted indoors at some point, but DG couldn't say when.

Cain took a small step back from her, just enough to position them so one arm was around her waist, the other clutching her hand in his against his chest above his heart.

It was more of a shuffle than a dance, a gentle sway under the moonlight in time with the music on the breeze.

Inside the ballroom, four members of the former Resistance stood guarding the doors so that the Princess and General would not be disturbed.

**
The Fifth Dance
**

A lot could change in an annual, or just under.

Crown Princess and Heir Apparent DG stood and watched her sister take to the floor, Azkadellia's dark eyes seeing nothing but the young man who led her there.

Her fiancé, her salvation.

The besotted look was returned as Jeb beamed at his bride to be, the hardened edges of the former Resistance Leader softened as he gazed lovingly at the Princess who had once been his enemy and would soon be his wife.

As happy as she was for them, DG couldn't help but envy them.

To be able to marry for love was something she had long since taken for granted, until the moment she realised it most likely wasn't to be.

As the direction of her thoughts shifted, so too did her gaze.

Wyatt Cain was amongst the dancers who joined his son and Az on the dance floor, a smile on his face as he held his partner in his arms.

There was no glint of a wedding ring on his finger, no flash to remind his partner – or DG – of the woman he'd loved and lost.

The lady he danced with was the widow of a man who had served with Cain in the Tin Man, a man who had died at the hands of the same Longcoats who had taken Cain's beloved Adora from him.

It was just one of the many things they had in common.

Though he'd not come out and told her he was courting the woman, DG suspected it in her heart. Why else had he stopped wearing his ring? Why else was he out there with her, instead of standing beside his future queen?

DG watched from the side lines, suddenly keenly aware that this was her place going forward.

She was no longer one of them, free to join in with the dancing and the joking and the conversations that flowed easily between the former fighters who had become the loyal Royal Guard.

Gone were the days where she could smile and tease and coax a laugh that would be quickly smothered by a cough out of one of the guards.

Az smiled more freely now; she laughed often.

DG did not.

It wasn't towards the end of the night, more like the middle, when Wyatt Cain eventually approached her.

He did so carefully, with smooth steps and a low bow that made her stomach twist and her heart ache.

"May I have this dance, Your Highness?"

No Princess or DG, certainly no Kid or darling or sweetheart.

She knew she could refuse and no one would bat an eyelid; she was the future ruler of the OZ after all. But because she wanted to, because the old DG that still fought somewhere within her screamed at her to, she accepted his hand with a graceful inclination of her head and allowed him to lead her out into the middle of attendees celebrating the recently announced engagement of Azkadellia Gale to Jeb Cain.

"It's been a while, Princess," Cain murmured, careful to keep the required distance between them as they danced.

She fought the urge to ask whose fault that was and instead fixed a demure smile on her face. "I've been a little busy learning the ropes from Mother."

He made a sound at the back of his throat she couldn't identify so made no attempt to. "You're allowed to take a day off once in a while, DG. No one's expecting you to be Queen overnight."

At that, she did snort. An unladylike sound her Mother's advisors would have chided her for but they weren't within earshot and she was beyond caring if they were. "Please feel free to tell that to everyone who expects me to magically know everything there is about the OZ and being Queen despite the fifteen annuals I spent living on the Other Side. Not a day goes by when I don't mess something up, Cain."

She glanced up in time to see his eyes narrow, his expression less than friendly. "You've never messed up, DG."

The cave came back to her then. The sound of a child in distress, crying for help. The old hag who implored her to let go.

DG shuddered and closed her eyes; they continued to dance in perfect time with the music around them.

Silence filled the space of conversation between them. Where once it would have been comfortable, an unspoken tension lingered in the air but neither could pinpoint exactly what it meant.

The song eventually ended, and so too did their dance.

DG's fingers brushed the space on Cain's hand where his wedding ring had once sat.

"Be happy, Wyatt," she whispered, breaking protocol to stand on her toes and brush her lips against his cheek, dangerously close to his lips. "You truly deserve it."

And then she was gone, disappearing into the crowd, surrounded by people who didn't really know her and didn't really want to.

Cain tried to figure out why his arms felt empty, and why what he'd intended as their first dance of the evening felt like the very last they'd share.