A/N: If there are any errors, let me know. I've pretty much stopped further editing of this story altogether. I was also going to add a little scene at the end with Regina and Snow, but I just can't be bothered. Sadly, my interest in this story has been reduced to fulfilling my daily postings. Ah well. I guess that's what happens when I'm finally moving on after the rest of the world did two years ago.
Standard Disclaimer: These lovely characters ain't mine, I just play with them gently. Please don't sue me. The mistakes are mine, though.
Chapter 24 – The Faerie Queen of Oz
Regina does not dare flinch a muscle as the otherworldly stranger approaches. Without even so much as sparing them a stray glance, the wispy beauty snatches Dorothy out of her arms with a strength that belies a willowy stature. Regina only thinks to protest the abrupt action when it's too late to do anything but obey the subsequent command hurtled over a slim shoulder.
"Come inside. Quickly!" the woman hollers, Dorothy hanging limp in her arms as she rushes away in a whirl of effervescent skirts. toward. The annoying dog she chased out of the bucolic little cabin not forty feet away is hot on her heels, yipping with anxious excitement at all the ruckus.
When Snow glances over, unsure of whether or not to heed the invitation, Regina nods her assent. While she does not know the woman who has taken Dorothy, she can evidently be trusted. Dorothy had chosen this place out of all others as her refuge, and that alone is a fairly convincing argument. That said, not having to worry about Snow's safety, or her own, does not extend to their new friend. Dorothy had lost a lot of blood back in the Emerald City. Concern for her spurs Regina forward.
"Come along, Snow," she says, then takes off after the iridescent blonde woman at a light jog.
Upon entering the rustic, spartan abode, Regina quickly surveys the cramped living space. Stuffed into the corner of the open den, there is a dainty bed upon which Dorothy has been laid face down. The blonde who'd snatched her from Regina is kneeling on the floor next to her, inspecting the wound from the arrowhead with a long grimace. She prods it using careful touches and winces apologetically each time Dorothy issues a rumbling groan of protest despite being wholly unaware of what is going on around her.
"She is lucky," the blonde woman comments as Regina and Snow draw near. Her focus never strays from the injured warrior she is administering aid to. "Had the missile not lodged in her shoulder blade, it probably would have pierced her heart."
Now that the surprise has worn off, Regina takes note of the stranger's accent. It bears some resemblance to Zelena's, though only in passing. While her sister spoke and sounded like an uneducated guttersnipe, this woman's enunciation and diction are highly refined – she might even go so far as to say courtly. The timbre of her voice is also far more pleasing to the ear, lacking the nasally quality with which Zelena communicated her rancorous tripe. It is not quite comparable to Red's soft, feminine tonality, but it is soothing just the same in its slightly raspy warmth.
"Is there anything I can do to help?" Snow inquires, causing the yappy mongrel to bark raucously at her. She jumps back, startled.
"Toto! Bad boy!" the woman sternly chastises while Regina smiles wryly, thinking the dog ought to be rewarded for its gumption. Toto whimpers at being so harshly correction, and in response is given a mollifying scratch to the head before the woman then commands, "Go lie down in your bed while I tend to Mommy."
After a yip of understanding, the dog obediently scurries to the opposite corner of the room where a plush little cushion is made up for him. He curls up on it and lays down, head resting on his front paws as he anxiously observes his apparent owner being cared for.
"Now," the woman then addresses Snow with a look of apology, "to answer your question, if you would so be so kind, there is a kettle upon the mantle. It would be a great help to me for you to begin heating some water on the fire so that I can make us some tea. Your companion and I will tend to Dorothy in the meantime."
"We will?" Regina asks, surprised she's being asked to help.
As Snow departs to do as she was asked, eyes the color of rich earth scan up to Regina. In that piercing gaze, she senses that this woman is a keen judge of character. It was as if in that infinitesimally tiny window in time, all of the layers that comprise who she is were peeled away one at a time, leaving her raw and exposed to the assessment of this stranger. The only mitigating factor repressing a negative knee-jerk reaction is her eminent concern for Dorothy.
"If you are amenable to lending a hand," the woman then says more diplomatically. "I am aware you are a practitioner of dark magic but I do not believe your intentions to be pernicious. Am I wrong?" She then peers at Regina again, and the intensity of her critical perusal causes Regina to flush uncomfortably. Shame at being immediately identified as a person who holds darkness inside her tugs again the unexpected kindness with which the woman then adds, "No, I do not believe I am."
"You're not wrong on either count," Regina confirms. "I will help you, if only because Dorothy saved our lives. I owe her."
The woman smiles gratefully and then gestures toward the wound. "Splendid! If you will staunch the bleeding, I will remove the object."
Regina nods, and when she holds her hand out to begin using her magic, the woman levels her own hand over Dorothy's wound, which is seeping precious fluid in worrying amounts, staining her garments and the once pristine white sheets a bright crimson. With her hand hovering atop the wound, the woman draws her index finger and thumb together, as if just having pinched something, and then slowly begins to separate them. As her thumb and index finger draw apart, the wound on Dorothy's shoulder starts to peel open. Blood pours out of the enlarged hole, an unnatural amount for such a wound.
"Why is she bleeding so much?" Regina asks, her heart rate speeding up at the many possible explanations. All of them bad.
"The Witch has all of her archers coat their arrows in the venom of indigo spiders," the blonde supplies. "It thins the blood so that injuries which would otherwise be survivable become life threatening."
Regina's brows raise at her sister's vile creative streak. The less ethical part of her wishes she had thought of such a thing herself back when she was routinely deploying archers in open battle. A venom that can make a scratch potentially deadly would be a perfect tool to strike fear in the hearts of citizens and rival kingdoms alike. The nicer part of her does not wait long before rather loudly objecting to that line of reason. Shame coloring her cheeks, she drives the deplorable thoughts from her mind with prejudice and refocuses on her task.
While her magic works to prevent blood from pouring out of the wound, the woman in white uses her free hand to carefully begin dislodging the arrowhead from the exposed shoulder blade which it punctured. The entire time she works, she keeps her fingers separated to hold the skin and muscle apart. It takes several pulls and even a few wiggles of the arrowhead to dislodge it, but it finally comes free after one last concerted effort.
"Would you be so kind as to repair the bone?" the stranger asks as she examines the broadhead with an almost hateful glare. The expression seems somehow perverse on a woman of such unearthly beauty.
"Of course," Regina replies, and does as asked.
Once the bone is whole again, the woman slowly pinches her fingers back together, and Regina watches, transfixed, as the skin and muscle knit back together with a weaver's skill into unmarred flesh. When the wound is completely closed, she cannot even tell that Dorothy was ever injured. A final murmured spell – Regina assumes this was to eradicate the poison – is woven over Dorothy's inert form before she heaves a deep breath and then allows herself to relax.
"Thank you," the woman says after a taking a moment to further recover. She rises then and gives a deep curtsy, bowing her head respectfully as she dips. The motion is smooth and refined as if from constant practice greeting other heads of state at official functions. A beatific smile spreads across her full lips as she returns upright. "My name is Ozma. Although the circumstances are less than ideal, I am pleased to make your acquaintance."
Regina does not miss the fluid, graceful way Ozma moves. That combined with her accent, posture, and dress would have spelled out precisely who she is, even if she hadn't given her name. After deftly returning the curtsy with one of her own, Regina offers her royal host a knowing smile.
"I assure you, the pleasure is all mine, Your Majesty."
Ozma is visibly surprised by the honorific. "You know who I am?"
"I do, indeed," Regina says. "Dorothy spoke fondly of you and might have mentioned that you are the rightful ruler of this land."
"As the only child of King Pastoria and the Fairy Queen Lurline, I inherited the throne upon my parents' demise," Ozma confirms sadly. She trails off for a moment before adding, "Once upon a time, I was Queen of Oz. Now I am only sovereign over trees, rabbits, foxes, and sparrows."
"Do not despair. You shall be Queen again. And sooner than you think if I have my way," Regina states firmly. "You see, I haven't come to Oz on a whim. I am seeking a cure for my wife, who has been put under a sleeping curse. It can only be cured by True Love's kiss after an antidote is administered to counteract a reagent added to it by the Wicked Witch."
"I am sorry to hear about your wife," says Ozma, clearly distressed at hearing the clipped version of Red's fate. "The Witch truly is well named. Her wickedness knows no bounds. What she did to Glinda alone is unforgivable. Even so, I do not understand what that has to do with the loss of my kingdom."
"It's really quite simple," says Regina in a matter-of-fact tone. She neither sees any reason to belabor the truth or dress it up in pretty words and complex justifications, nor does she think Ozma would appreciate such disingenuous attempts. "If all goes well, Zelena won't be around to keep you from your rightful place. I aim to kill her before I leave."
Ozma's eyes widen comically at Regina's statement. She wonders if the shock is due to her plan to take on the witch who had conquered the realm from an obviously powerful sorceress such as Ozma or whether it is because of the blasé manner which which she stated her intention to remove their mutual festering thorn. Perhaps, she thinks, it is a little bit of both.
"Do not be surprised," she then says, addressing Ozma with a confident turn of her lips. "As you are already aware, I am a practitioner of dark magic. What you don't know is that my instructor was none other than the Dark One himself. Zelena is remarkably powerful, yes, but she is fighting for revenge while I am fighting for love. While we don't really know each other, I get the idea that you understand how powerful a motive love is."
"I do," nods Ozma, and then glances down at Dorothy, a tender and wistful look upon her face. She continues to stare at Dorothy as her expression shifts into something more curious. "I wonder, though, why Zelena desires revenge against you. And why are you ready to go to such great lengths to undo her crimes?"
Before Regina can answer, Snow returns inside, a pitcher of water in hand. She shivers from the cold as she fetches the kettle, and both Regina and Ozma watch as she pours enough water into it for four people to take tea. Once the kettle is hanging upon the hook built into the fireplace, she returns to the bedside.
"What did I miss?" she asks, oblivious as ever. Regina sighs as Ozma grins. "What?"
"Nothing, dear," says Regina, "I was just about to debrief Ozma here, our gracious hostess, on events that have lead us to this moment."
After Snow introduces herself like the unflinchingly polite goody-two-shoes she is, she meanders over to the foot of the bed to sit in an armed chair adorned with delicate wood carvings of various forms of wildlife that is cushioned by fluffy looking pillows. Once nestled in snugly, she gestures for Regina to continue.
Regina rolls her eyes at her companion before refocusing on Ozma, though she notices that the deposed monarch looks absolutely tickled at their brief interaction. To prevent any comments from either Snow or Ozma, Regina begins her tale. To her relief neither woman interrupts until she is finished.
Unlike Snow who already knows all of this, Ozma goes through a myriad of emotions, her visage shifting dramatically with each portion of the narrative. She is effervescent with happiness as Regina relates the abbreviated story of how she and Red met and came to fall in love and eventually were married. But when learning about her discovery of Red splayed out in their wash chamber with the green apple that had cursed her in hand, the beautiful blonde grows almost despondent. Relating Zelena's little speech elicits anger that furls Ozma's perfectly arched brows and tints her cheeks a rosy red. That anger then morphs into broiling outrage as Regina recounts how she and Snow stumbled upon Dorothy's magical prison within Zelena's chambers.
"How dare she treat my beloved so despicably!" Ozma erupts after Regina confesses that Dorothy was held captive for over a year. The force of Ozma's fury is frightening. The entire house shakes as she trembles, as if the very earth beneath their feet was tuned in to her emotions. But then she slumps over at the waist and the anger drains out of her all at once. Kneeling by the bed once again, her hand seeks out Dorothy's, and she lifts it to her lips to place a reverent kiss upon the unconscious woman's knuckles. "My poor, poor darling." When Ozma leans in to smooth her hand through matted brown hair and kiss Dorothy's pale pink lips, Regina averts her eyes out respect for the privacy of the moment rather than some hypocritical sense of disgust at such a display of affection among company. When she hears Ozma shift, she turns back to meet a pleading gaze. "Tell me, what did that witch do to my Dorothy? Did she suffer?"
Regina shakes her head. "Not in the way you're thinking," she says, not wanting to be the one to deliver the blow that she knows will rain down on what is clearly a sensitive heart.
Ozma's brows furrow in confusion. "Explain."
Regina's gut tightens as she realizes the effect of what she is about to say will have on the half-fairy queen. From her scant exposure to the woman, she gets the sense Ozma is a creature who is decent down into the depths of soul. She will not understand why Zelena did what she did, and her sense of indignity and horror over how Dorothy was violated will probably be extreme. The reaction is warranted due to how depraved Zelena's actions were, but the thought of Ozma's soul being blemished by them is an uncomfortable one.
Hasn't that broccoli bitch ruined enough? she thinks, and images flash in her mind of a certain brunette whose purity may not rival that of a fairy queen but is still precious just the same. It seems that wherever Zelena goes, her aim is to corrupt or destroy those whose hearts are good and noble and true. And while that once would have been commendable to Regina, now it is abhorrent. Zelena must be stopped, no matter the cost, to prevent more of this needless suffering.
Although the urge to lie or deflect is strong, Regina decides in this instance the truth is the best medicine. Somehow she knows that Ozma will be able to detect and will not appreciate any attempts at dishonesty.
"Zelena did not actually lay a finger on Dorothy, so keep that in mi-"
"Regina, don't," Snow cuts in, eyes begging her to reconsider.
Although she wants to chastise Snow for the interruption, Regina understands where she is coming from. Preserving innocence, wherever it may be found, is a vital and worthwhile endeavor. There is so little of it in the world that it is a priceless commodity to be protected at all costs. Would that there was a way for her to do so without lying to Ozma! Sadly, there is not. Ozma does not strike her as a woman who enjoys being deceived, however benevolent the reason.
"I have to," she says, resigned to her course yet remorseful for the necessity. "She deserves to know. If I were in her position, I would want to know."
"Know what?" Ozma prods, eyes half-narrowed but wholly frightened. "What did she do to Dorothy? Tell me at once!"
"Dorothy did not say exactly," Regina begins as delicately as possible. "From what I could gather, I suspect Zelena toyed with her by openly engaging in...lewd acts with various lovers, or perhaps with herself, while Dorothy was a captive audience. She...flaunted those activities in Dorothy's face, even. Mind you, this is only speculation, but from my limited interactions with my sister, such perversity seems like the sort of thing she might resort to for a thrill."
For a moment, Ozma vacillates between shock and disgust. But then her entire demeanor darkens, and she suddenly rises to her feet with her eyes burning in an imperious and thunderous rage.
"Your sister?" she grits out as she approaches. "Your sister did...that to my beloved?"
"I believe so, yes," Regina admits, not hiding, not flinching, meeting Ozma eye-to-eye to show that she has done nothing to be ashamed of. "In my defense, I did not know Zelena existed until she was gleefully rubbing my nose in the mess she made out of my life. Had I known earlier, I may have been able to prevent all of this." She reaches out tentatively and grips Ozma's arms. The action at first causes Ozma to seize up as if she is about to retaliate, but then she deflates and eases into Regina's hold. "But I am here now, Ozma. I know now. I give you my word that I will stop her. And should she not confront me before leaving Oz as I expect, then I will return to help you overthrow her after I save my wife."
"As will I," pipes in Snow, giving a firm nod. "And I'm pretty sure that in that case Red will be happy to lend her unique talents to the effort as well."
"That she will," Regina smiles. "I did not tell you, but my wife just happens to be a werewolf capable of eliminating a company of men all on her own. Before we met, she thwarted many of my plots single-handedly."
"She sounds like a strong, amazing woman. Quite like my Dorothy," Ozma says, and then gives Regina a weak smile that does not last. Overcome with emotion, she turns back to the bed and collapses beside Dorothy, hip-to-hip, brushing her fingers along Dorothy's strong features. "Oh, my poor, poor darling. I'm so sorry this has happened to you!" she again coos, and Regina does not have to see her face to know she is crying.
After giving the distraught Ozma a gentle rub on the back, Regina fixes Snow with a glance and indicates with her head to the door. Snow nods in understanding, and silently they step outside to give the Queen of Oz a moment alone with her lady love.