Disclaimer: I own the cinnamon buns I just made; can I trade them for Tin Man? They are really, really good, just ask my friends, who I can't let know I have been baking else they'll descend like ravenous wolves.
Author's Note: Sorry for the delay – this was one of those chapters (had to send two versions to the Story Graveyard). Once again, try not to hate Gulch too much. Quality Control blames DG for his predicament, seems to think that the youngest princess should be a bit clearer when explaining Otherside traditions. Oh, and there shall be mention of a flower, this flower does not exist, QC and I invented it (for one of the scrapped chapter versions but darnit that took a lot of time so I'm using it).
...
Azkadellia stood frozen in a sea of ice as her happy little bubble burst taking away all the warmth in the world and leaving behind only the shattered remnants of her once beautiful dream. She hadn't even seen it coming this time; for all his obliviousness her Othersider had never done anything to hurt her before. Indeed, he'd been the one person she'd trusted above maybe even DG never to do so, the unexpectedness of took her breath away. Her hand, the hand that Deeg had once dropped, felt so cold and empty. She was vulnerable; the darkness was closing in and...
Hyperventilating now, the eldest princess forced herself to focus her gaze and push the blackness back from the edges of her vision. The scullery maid whose penchant for gossip and inability to detect the princess' presence before it was too late stood gaping at her in petrified horror while a full half of Azkadellia's protection detail hovered anxiously as if uncertain of whether they needed to leap to the rescue or flee her inevitable wrath. She was pretty sure she would get angry eventually, at least she hoped so. Anger was so much easier to deal with than pain, so it'd better hurry up and get here because when this frozen numbness wore off it was going to hurt and princesses did not cry in front of their subjects.
Distantly she became aware of a distressed chirping sound. Looking down she discovered that she still held Kansas in her arms, she'd come down to the kitchen to get him a treat after all. The little mobat had forgotten completely about his sign language, pulling on her hair and clothes and making the most piteous little cries in his desperation to get her attention. Az felt the ice that kept the agony at bay beginning to crack as she wrapped her arms tightly around the infant who hugged her back in return.
She'd been so happy just five minutes ago – was it only five minutes ago? Yesterday the citizens of the O.Z. had done their level best to tear down the Sorceress' Tower in a single day; there'd been fireworks and bonfires. The Realm had taken a step towards healing itself and had a marvellous time in the process. Azkadellia, meanwhile, had discovered a brave little flower growing in the wasteland that had surrounded the witch's abode that seemed to match Gulch so perfectly. Shadow's Dawn Grumpy had called it – she'd been so giddily astonished to discover the dour Gillikin was interested in botany of all things. So like a shadow finding the dawn had the appearance of her Othersider been to her that Az had instantly wanted the flower for her bouquet. The bouquet for her wedding...Azkadellia's lower lip started trembling.
There wasn't going to be a wedding. That Gulch had gone out to drink the nearest bar he could find dry at the mere thought of it was clear evidence of that, especially given his 'private' conversation with the army lieutenant he'd taken with him. Apparently Jeb and the cop had been expounding on the dangers of women for several hours now. Az was only grateful that even inebriated the policeman had managed not to reveal the name of the lady who'd ambushed him with matrimony when he was too drunk to defend himself. She was pretty sure those hadn't been his exact words, either. Officer Gulch was, after all, a good man – a heartbreakingly oblivious man, but a good man. When he wasn't enacting the part of a drunken idiot, that is.
And there, at last, was anger; Azkadellia clutched at it like a lifeline. Every guard in the room rocked back on their heels in alarm as the eldest princess suddenly glared at no one in particular, the scullery maid hastily hid herself behind Dawkins. Az, meanwhile, was reviewing the last few days with the horrible clarity of hindsight. She should have realized it sooner. When Cain and DG had gotten engaged they'd become even more inseparable than ever; the last couple of days, ever since their supposed engagement, however, Azkadellia had hardly seen the cop, much less spoken to him. While she'd been running around like a blind fool, Gulch had kept to himself as he presumably dealt with his latest blunder. It was a small blessing that Ahamo had assumed her sudden wish to practice for her wedding had stemmed from what the Consort had called 'wedding madness' or the sudden desire of women to plan their weddings as a result of attending one. Az shuddered, if the pain of discovering that her engagement was a drunken mistake wasn't enough, the mortification of having to tell daddy that would have about killed her.
A drunken mistake, Azkadellia snarled mentally, that's all it was. She'd known he was drunk – he'd offered her Winky wine, Gulch abhorred the thought of her drunk – but she'd never thought...she'd wanted...he'd caught the garter. And she'd caught the bouquet. DG had said...though come to think of it, Deeg had said there was no magic on the Otherside, so how could the bouquet predict anything? Wincing, the eldest princess realized that the bouquet toss was just one those things you did, like starting the reception with the Wizard Waltz, it was a tradition, nothing more. And if the policeman hadn't been too drunk to think straight he could have explained it to her, instead of accepting every proposal that came his way – he probably would have said yes to that damned Winky if she'd have thought to ask. If only he could have stayed sober enough that when his charge had come by and informed him they were getting married, he could have told her...what? Told her what? That she had been mistaken about the significance of the bouquet toss in a nice diplomatic manner? Gulch. The walking diplomatic disaster? Az was almost shaken right out of her anger as she tried to picture the poor bewildered cop trying to handle the delusional bouquet-wielding princess' proposal in tactful and sensitive manner.
No, not 'poor bewildered', she reminded herself hastily as her wall of fury began to crumble, leaving her vulnerable to pain once more, drunken idiot. He could have done something to prevent this, anything rather than giving her her greatest wish only to snatch it away again. And what the caves was he doing going out and getting drunk when that is what caused the problem in the first place? He was supposed to be her guardian, her knight, he wasn't supposed to be the one blowing the Tower out from under her...or some metaphor that didn't depict her as the Sorceress...though she had been...oh fine then, she'd take care of herself, just see if she wouldn't.
"Where is he?" Azkadellia asked at last in what her guards considered to be an alarmingly even tone.
"I-I-I d-don't know," the maid stuttered as the eldest princess focused her gaze on the frightened woman, "h-he g-got ar-r-r-rested f-for b-brawling. S-same p-place as l-last t-time I t-think," she added desperately as the Royal Glare intensified.
Brawling. He'd gotten into a drunken fight again. His hands, his face, he was going to wreck them, not that that was any of her concern. Except that her guards needed to be in good health in order to do their jobs, of course. "Bashful," she snapped, "find the Consort and ask him to meet me here." The tin men aren't allowed to arrest the Othersider, she thought as her protection detail desperately tried to figure out which of them was Bashful, he can't see how well I manage without him if he isn't there to see.
