Author's Note: Hi everyone! I hope you're all having a wonderful weekend and I'd like you thank you all for keeping up. Now that she's in Oz, the plot's going to go a lot faster (I hope) and become more complicated. Any comments, feedback, suggestions are encouraged! Thank you again.

Chapter Four

She didn't know why, even as Glinda the Good (even as the Empress of Oz!), she seemed to regularly find herself apprehended by her own Guards. This time it was because they wouldn't allow her to travel to the sanatorium where the old lady claiming she had seen the Wicked Witch from days earlier was staying. There were now rumors that the woman had seen a child with green skin and even though she knew it wasn't possible, she was curious nonetheless.

"Let me through!" she demanded. She hadn't even left the castle and already she was cornered in the dining room. Regrettably, she wasn't tiny enough to slip past three burly Guards.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness, but you are not permitted to leave the palace grounds," said one of the cadets.

"I will leave whenever I please," she said, angrily gripping her wand.

"Our… our orders are to keep you indoors, Miss… Your Highness," another stuttered.

"Whose orders? The Emperor's?" she asked, smiling a bit too sweetly. She advanced toward them, her heels clicking slowly, as if what was approaching was their worst fear. "You are going to so thoughtfully let me through and bow until I've left the City before running to your Emperor, just to make sure you buy me enough time."

The way she said it made it seem like it was a charming request, but the Guards almost recoiled in her presence. There was something a bit startling in her tone, but they couldn't say she was wicked or mean. On the contrary, they couldn't blame her for wanting to get out of the house. She wanted to breathe the fresh air and they were holding her hostage in her own home.

"Your Highness, forgive us," one said, kneeling. The others followed. "But, our Emperor's word supersedes any ruling of yours." His voice cracked as he finished his sentence. She was about to reply tartly when another person entered the room.

"That was very brave of you, Oduin. Even I wouldn't have had the stomach to do what you just did. Bravo." The Emperor walked over to their group, his long robes trailing behind him. Glinda tried to avoid his eye contact. She had been patient about some of her husband's decisions regarding old laws and new rulings, but now he was just pushing her buttons. She was no longer a puppet whose strings needed to be pulled by the Wizard or Morrible. Who was he to order the Gale Force to detain her?

"Go on and prepare your Empress's Bubble," ordered the Emperor. He was gentle and calm as a father would be to his children. The Guards lifted their heads apprehensively and looked at each other.

"Your Highness…?"

"Don't make me repeat myself, please," he said impatiently. And since no one would dare upset the Emperor, they scurried away until it was just him and his wife standing in the middle of the room. She knew he wanted to give her the courtesy of having the first say, but she kept her lips pursed. He wasn't going to pull this "I'm so kind" act with her—she invented that.

He continued to stare at her, waiting for her to speak. She used her wand to steady her weight like a cane and tapped her foot anxiously. She didn't realize how hard it was to stay quiet.

"Well?" he asked.

"Well, what?" she asked, pretending to be clueless.

He didn't respond right away. Instead he shifted uncomfortably. His eyes dropped to the ground and she almost felt sorry. When he lifted his head, their eyes met and he raised a hand to her cheek. She felt his fingertips caress the side of her face, warm on her skin. There were butterflies fluttering inside her and her skin tingled just a bit; she couldn't figure out how he was always able to do that to her, every time, no matter the circumstance.

"Darling, you're stunning in everything you wear, but I must say, apathy is a terrible color on you," he said softly.

She tried not to lose focus. She was angry, after all, although the feeling had subsided somewhat. "Liamn, what's the meaning of this? I am not to be told what to do."

"It was a precaution," he answered plainly. "I knew you'd flee to the sanatorium as soon as you heard the rumors."

"Of course you knew." She began to pace across the room. "Why keep me from the sanatorium? What imminent danger lies there?"

The Emperor hadn't moved from his spot, but continued to watch Glinda back and forth around the room. "I'm not sure."

"You're not sure or you won't tell me?" She placed herself a couple of feet in front of him, her fingers gripping her wand, always at the ready. "I know you keep secrets from me. I suspect the burden must be heavy, seeing the future and knowing our fates, and being disappointed because sometimes they're nothing like we thought they would be."

"Glinda—"

"You can tell me, Liamn. You can tell me and I'll share the burden with you." Her eyes were earnest, desperate. Even under her beauty were fine wrinkles she had developed over the years, under the stress.

Usually, the Emperor was clever, quick-witted, but now he was struggling for words. He sighed. "I often don't like what I see. I can't control these visions, they just arrive and I do all I can to prevent anything bad from happening, but…" He paused, reconsidering. There was apology in his eyes and remorse. "You will have to trust me."

"Blindly?"

"Unfortunately. Glinda, it'll be alright."

"You're lying to me."

"I'm trying to be encouraging," he said. She cringed at his words, which used to be her words long ago. "Why do you want to see this woman anyway?" he asked inquisitively.

"I just want to talk with her," she said, biting her lip. They both knew it wasn't a very good reason. But, it was mainly the truth. No one in Oz ever spared more than a few words about the Wicked Witch because doing so would always bring back horrible memories. Surely this woman must have seen something? She just wanted to know for sure.

"You don't think the Wicked Witch really has risen from the dead, do you?" he exclaimed.

"No, that's impossible," she replied bitterly. Indeed she saw her melting with her very own eyes. "But, maybe she left… a child? A relative? I don't know!" She was taking wild guesses and under her husband's suspicious eyes she felt herself reddening. Although she wouldn't know what to do with herself if Elphaba in fact did leave a child… knowing that it had to be Fiyero's as well.

"Let's say she did," he said. "What interest would you have in her?"

She wasn't sure what he was implying, but she didn't like it. "Nothing. Well… maybe we could help her or something…"

"You've gone mad. Glinda," he said grabbing her shoulders. He looked at her seriously. "What is this about, really? Sometimes I feel you're keeping secrets from me." She shrank and frowned. There was guilt in her heart and a little bit of fear because whenever he gazed at her that way, she felt as if he was reading her mind. He released her slowly and straightened his carriage. "The Wicked Witch was powerful," he said. "And she may have been able to do many things. But, you can't go on a witch hunt just because you think she has an heir. You would be putting all of Oz in danger, including yourself. And I'd rather not lose you now."

He turned and started to walk away. "Whatever you think she can give you, ask yourself if it's worth it."

"There is nothing I want."

"Oh? You've gone through 500 trials of that potion. As they say, desperate times call for desperate measures." Before he left her alone, he added, "Your Bubble awaits. I hope you're back for supper."

xoxoxo

She pounded the door. Her hand started turning red, her fingernails worn out from scratching at the wood. She wasn't supposed to be here. After that woman, who happened to be some sort of Governess, found her lying on her grass, Janice freaked. Did anyone in this hallucination know where she was and where her daughter was?

"One of yours fell out of the sky and landed on my property," the Governess had said when they had arrived at the sanatorium. "Deal with her, please."

"She's not one of ours, Madame, but we'll gladly take her off your hands. Bann, lodge this one with Mai'galen, will you? Such a shame, she's such a pretty little thing."

Janice would have accepted the fact that she was being admitted to an asylum in a place she was unfamiliar with if it weren't for one thing: The head of the asylum was four feet tall.

Now, she was locked in a windowless room with an odd woman who was humming foreign lullabies in the corner. There were two cots, a sink and a hole in the ground. They weren't running an asylum. They were running a prison.

The slot on the door slid open and a watchman appeared on the other side. He had a moustache that curved along his lips as he scowled. "Ma'am, can you please keep quiet? You're causing a commotion."

"I don't belong here!"

"Me either," he answered. "D'you know that I was supposed to be 'mong the top ranks of the Gale Force? But, I reckon me boss thought I be better suited handling crazy people."

Gale Force? "Where am I?" she asked aloud.

"Whew, you really are crazy," he said with a laugh. "You're at the border of Vinkus, o' course. Now, please, no more noise from you? Or I'll have to charm your mouth shut like I did with Mai'galen." He pointed at the old woman who was now standing in the middle of the room. "Y'know, you pair are a match made in Oz. Both screamin' about losing your daughters and such…" He left, trailing off. Janice waited until his voice disappeared.

"I'm in Oz? How is that possible?" Oz was a fairytale land she made up; it wasn't real. The notion that her dreams were beginning to meld with reality scared her. This is just a hallucination, she tried to convince herself. Nothing that a few pills couldn't fix. The woman was now staring at her, fascinated by her distress.

"Ma'am?" Janice drew closer and looked at the woman carefully. She was about a head shorter, her body stout and roundish. She had ocean-colored eyes, almost hollow, and long, curly hair. "Do you know where I am? Am I in Oz?" She stopped herself, remembering who she was talking to. The old woman, nevertheless, nodded her head. Alright, Janice, she thought, you going to take her word for it?

Then again this asylum was a bit of a joke. This woman might not be completely crazy. She could be seeing things, as Janice saw things, but still be fairly rational. The woman pulled the cuff of her sleeve and pointed at the words tattooed on her wrist.

"Mai'galen. Like May…Gullen?" she asked. The woman nodded then pointed at Janice. She wanted to know her name.

"Elphie," she responded. That was the name she had given to the head of the asylum. She was disinclined to use her real name for some reason. It didn't matter, Isaac would know if any effort to find her relatives were taken. "The watchman said your daughter was missing?"

Mai'galen's eyes filled with tears. Janice suddenly felt her heart break. This woman really was missing her child. She couldn't possibly fake that heartache, and here she was, here they both were, trapped like animals.

"My daughter is missing, too," said Janice, trying to be brave. She was going to have to play with this idea that they were in fact in Oz if she wanted to survive. "I promise you we'll find them." She placed a hand on Mai'galen's shoulder and smiled. It was an empty promise, but it reassured them both.

Janice had to sit down; she still felt sore. The cot wasn't terribly bad. It was small and there were lumps, but it was soft. Mai'galen couldn't keep still, however. She paced around the room, making grunting sounds. The charm must have been wearing off.

"My Elena, she has dark hair like me," said Janice. Mai'galen paused to look at her. "She has my chin, unfortunately. Her eyes are hazel, like her father's. What about yours? What does your daughter look like?"

The woman ignored her and sat on the edge of her bed. She took out a small jewelry box from beneath her bed and fiddled with the lock. When she gave up, she held it against her chest. Janice moved to sit next to her and tried to be comforting. "Does she have lovely blue eyes, like you?"

The tension receded and the woman looked up. She pointed at Janice's eyes. "She has dark eyes, like me?"

The woman nodded her head. She then pointed at her own hair.

"And curly locks, like yours?"

She shook her head. Janice almost jumped back when the woman grabbed a fistful of her hair. Her grasp was surprisingly strong. "Um, black hair, like me?"

She shook her head again and ran her fingers down at its length. "Long?" asked Janice. "Dark hair?" The woman shrugged. She would take that as a yes.

Janice took a breath and scooted back a bit. "So, she has dark eyes, dark hair… anything else?"

Mai'galen hesitated. Slowly, she slipped her hand underneath her pillow. She took out a small bottle which was filled halfway with green liquid. Janice was confused for a second. What was she going to do?

The woman pointed at the bottle then pointed at Janice. Did she want her to drink it? The woman wrapped her fingers around Janice's arm and held it up. She traced a vein along her pale skin.

"I…I don't understand," said Janice uneasily. The woman squeezed, but quickly loosened her grip. She grumbled and kept pointing at Janice's arm. "Um, arm, skin—" Mai'galen nodded enthusiastically. She raised the bottle.

Janice looked at her timidly. She couldn't possible mean that. "Your daughter has… green skin?" The woman sighed, and nodded slowly.

Alright, maybe this woman was just a little crazy. Mai'galen continued to hold her jewelry box. She caressed the engravings and looked at it longingly. Janice reached over and touched the lock gently.

"Did you lose the key?" she asked. Like magic, the box popped open. The woman's eyes grew large and she turned her head to Janice, agape. What just happened? Janice gulped. She couldn't have done that.

"Mai'galen, you have a visitor," called the watchman from across the room. The door opened slowly and the pair of roommates stood up. A small woman in pink strode in, the skirt of her dress shaped like an umbrella, her crown sitting tall atop her curly, blonde hair. When Janice realized that was in fact a wand in the small woman's hand, Mai'galen was already on the floor, bowing.

"You will bow in front of the Empress," said the watchman sternly.

"The Empress?" Janice tried not to laugh. It was her sick sense of humor kicking in, but this woman looked like she was twelve and she was dressed ridiculously, even for Halloween.

"Don't be in contempt—"

"Now, now, she's not in her right mind," said the Empress lightly. "Up, up… Mai'galen, is it? You are sweet and not at all the daft old woman from earlier this week. Have a seat, all of you. Well, not you, Sir, you may go." He looked at her, surprised. It seemed the watchman didn't want to leave. "We'll be alright, go on." And with that dismissal, he walked out, stealing a glance over his shoulder before closing the door.

"I'm sorry… Your Highness." Janice had to force herself to say it. "Are you really the Empress of Oz?"

The Empress laughed in a high-pitched, child-like tone. She sounded so familiar to Janice. The tiny lady straightened out her skirt and sat beside Mai'galen. "Of course I am. You amuse me, I don't think I'll be too worried if you sit in on our conversation," she said nodding to the old woman, who smiled. The Empress returned it and directed her attention back to Janice. "What is your name?"

"Elphie," she replied.

The Empress was quiet. "I beg your pardon?"