Here I am again, and a pointless one-shot with me! I felt like being obscure this week, thus I ventured into a tiny fandom and decided to wreak some havoc!
Disclaimer: Hear that sound? It's Mr. L. Frank Baum rolling in his grave, because he owns them, not me.
Warning: Femslash, meaning two girls in a romantic relationship. Leave now or forever hold your peace.
Notes: Takes place in and around the story Ozma of Oz, contains pointless rambling and my experiment with the second person.
And that's: it.
Away we: go!
The Two Princesses of Oz
You really surprised yourself, sometimes.
By the time of your trip to Ev, you'd almost managed to adjust to not being Tip anymore. The dresses you wore weren't as uncomfortable as the had been at first, and you no longer prayed to be able to wear boys' clothes again. You were almost used to the gorgeous palace and thousands of fine things that surrounded you. You no longer had to begin every day with a mantra of reminders; stand up straight, walk sedately, don't run, don't scuff your feet, hold your head up, don't whistle, look people in the eye, smile! The crown didn't feel heavy on your head for more than the first five minutes after putting it on. The magic was easier every day and even ruling was not so tiresome as you had first thought it. There would be entire days when you didn't think longingly of being Tip even once. You thought you had stopped being Tip; you thought you would be Ozma forever.
And then you looked up and saw her, and all of Tip's thoughts and feelings rushed back into you as if they had never been away.
You were grateful to Ozma, then, as the flood poured over you. It was Ozma's weeks of careful practice that kept your face smiling and your voice steady, but the voice and face were merely a pretense. Underneath, you were all Tip again, but a new Tip, one who wanted to please this strange Kansas girl more than you had ever wanted anything before.
All appearances to the contrary, it was Tip who climbed the tower staircase, Tip who forced the Princess to unlock the door, and Tip who first met Dorothy Gale and tried very hard not to act oddly. You wanted to box Langwidere's ears, at the very least, for daring to attempt to barter for beauty as if it was merely a possession. And yet, you forgave her, for you knew that you were trying to make such perfection your own even as she had done. You were trying even then, as Ozma and Tip both tried to win Dorothy's friendship.
You managed it, somehow, you never quite knew how, but you did. She rode with you, talked with you, and laughed with you, as you grew fonder of her every day. You thought it was Tip, still, who stared and stared every time she was distracted, but perhaps it was Ozma unable to recover her composure while Tip cheerfully chattered on.
All the while you were in Ev, and all the journey home, you grew more and more convinced that she was the one for you, if anyone was. You loved her beauty, her acceptance of all fortune, good or ill, her cheerful nature, her smile…There was nothing about her that you did not grow to love.
When you returned to Oz, triumphant, you told yourself you were ready to bid farewell to those weeks when you had let yourself be Tip again. It had been amusing, you told yourself, but you could not cease to be Ozma forever. You resolved then not to let Tip's feelings, or those you thought to be Tip's, overwhelm you. You declared that you would be only Ozma, forever and ever.
So you were as surprised as she when you turned to her, there in front of the Magic Picture, and kissed her. It was a chaste kiss, soon over, almost a friend's kiss…but not quite. You pulled away and knew you were blushing crimson as the poppies in your hair. You expected her to be surprised, shocked, upset. You did not expect her to blush and give you a shy smile before taking you by the hand and running outside.
You sent her home. It was the right thing to do, the only thing to do. She could not have been happy with you so long as she knew her family to miss her and need her. You sent her, but you promised not to forget to look at her every day. You knew, and she knew, that one day she would signal you that she was ready to return, and then you would bring her in an eyeblink. But for the moment, at four o'clock every afternoon she would smile, because she would know you were watching.
After she left, you went to your room and tried to make sense of it all. Had it been Tip or Ozma that had kissed her? You had thought it was Tip, but then you had sworn to be Ozma. Which were you, really? She had seemed to make no distinction; she saw no difference between the mischievous boy and the proper Princess of Oz. Perhaps, you thought at last, she was right. Perhaps there need be no difference, not now or ever. And then, oh, what a wonderful world it could be!
Yes, sometimes you even surprised yourself.
Finis
sigh Pointless fluff, here. And I am sorry to any pure-minded individual I may have scared. It was your own fault for not heeding the warning.
Should I add to this, or is it better as is? I need to know these things!