The next time she visited the palace, she was in tears. Langwidere pulled her quickly into the suite and locked the door before anyone could see her distraught guest.
"What in Oz is going on?"
West fell to her knees, inconsolable. "I promised to protect her and I had to kill her instead!"
Langwidere quickly realized that there were several ways this could go. She didn't know which to choose. That did not fall into her repertoire of interpersonal skills. "What role am I playing in this performance? The caring mother, the doting lover or the merciless disciplinarian?"
"Please, make me hurt," West cried. "Make me hurt until I can't think of anything else. Please, Lady Ev..."
"Very well," Langwidere said, opening up the suite doors just far enough to stick her head out and yell. "I require some items!"
If anyone wondered why the princess required rope, a riding crop and a very sharp (pristinely clean) dagger, they wisely chose not to ask.
She had the items in her suite within five minutes.
"Get up," the princess said coldly, dragging West to her feet by her hair, then gripping the back of her dress and tearing it down the middle. Ruining dresses might just be a theme the two of them were starting together.
When the dress was pooled on the floor, she roughly removed the witch's stockings and underwear and shoved her onto the bed.
"Whatever it is you've done, you're about to pay very dearly for it," she said, her voice low and dangerous. She cut two lengths of rope and secured West's hands to the headboard, not sure whether she was relieved or not to have no resistance. She picked up the riding crop and without preamble began striking the witch's belly and thighs hard enough to make her cry out.
West tugged sharply on her bonds and squirmed on the bed, but kept her knees apart since the princess was aiming for her thighs. Small pricks of fire licked her skin every time the crop made contact. Langwidere was imposing, frightening and perfect. The pain was already distracting her from the melancholy guilt that plagued her. It was doing something that even the numbing haze of the poppies could not. Each welt was a fractal of absolution.
"Thank you," West breathed, tears still streaming down her face, wetting the velvet bed covering beneath her. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."
"I have no need of your gratitude or your apologies, young lady," Langwidere scolded her, striking more sharply with the crop's leather tip. "Keep them to yourself until you're in front of the appropriate jury."
"Yes, Lady Ev," West managed to say between little cries of pain. When the strikes moved higher, to her breasts, she arched off the bed in an effort to avoid them, glad, however, that she couldn't.
Langwidere's manicured hand - this time with black fingernails - closed instantly around West's throat. "Don't do that again," she said harshly, tightening the hold.
West gasped, her vision blurring, and she stopped struggling the second she felt the princess squeeze.
As soon as the witch lay still, Langwidere removed her hand and dragged her fingernails down West's cheek, leaving raised, angry marks in their wake. "Behave," she commanded.
"Yes, Lady Ev," West replied amidst a shuddering cough.
She didn't move again, despite how much it hurt and how loudly her instincts yelled at her to escape.
When she was satisfied with the welts covering the front of the witch's body, she snapped the crop between West's legs and watched her come apart.
West dissolved into sobs once more, but they were not quite the same as when she'd arrived. She wanted to apologize a million times but she had been told not to, and she obeyed. She felt freer somehow, which she supposed she'd suspected she would have or she wouldn't have asked for this. Her entire front was on fire, throbbing and pulsing and screaming, and she almost couldn't take it. It was exactly what she needed. What she deserved. The princess had performed with such succinct perfection it left West feeling punished for her sins. She had needed it and Langwidere had selflessly given it to her.
Langwidere took the dagger and carefully sliced open the ropes binding the witch's hands. She intended to walk away and give Mistress West time to recover herself, but as soon as she released the bonds, her charge's arms wrapped around her and she found herself being quite literally a shoulder to cry on.
"May I thank you now, Lady Ev?" West whispered through her tears.
"Am I done being the merciless disciplinarian?" She thought so, but one could never be too careful.
West nodded against her neck.
"Then yes, of course you may."
"Thank you," West said reverently, pressing her lips to porcelain skin, nipping softly with her teeth.
"You are quite welcome."
West wasn't done. She stroked her hands up and down Langwidere's back and moved her lips to the front of the princess's throat, sucking taut flesh into her mouth and working a red mark onto it.
When hands wandered forward and toward her breasts, Langwidere captured the witch's wrists in a bruising grip. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Saying thank you," West whispered, pained eyes snapping to the princess's.
"Mistress West," Langwidere said sharply, though it was plain to see the situation saddened her. "I do not undress in front of anyone and I also do not let anyone touch me." Her countenance dared anyone to object.
"Why not?" West asked, staring into the depth of the princess's loneliness.
"My reasons are my own," Langwidere insisted. She brought West's hands away from her and guided them between the witch's legs. "If you want to thank me," she said darkly, "then touch yourself."
West's jaw dropped even as her fingers ached to comply. "In all my sordid liasions, many that there have been, I have never touched myself like that in front of another."
"Yes, well, as we have established, this arrangement has brought many firsts for both of us."
"You really want to see me do that?"
"I demand that you do."
"I'm embarrassed."
"Delightful!"
"Of course you would find that delightful," West mumbled, experimentallly running her fingertips up and down her welted thighs, hissing in pain every time she crossed one.
"Your pain is exquisite," Langwidere commented, much too blase for the situation in West's opinion.
"Thank you so much," West replied, heavy with sarcasm.
The princess dug her thumb into one of the welts on West's hip and reveled in the resulting scream. "Sorry," she said, obviously not in the least. "The notion struck me and would not let go."
Tears leaked fresh from West's tightly closed eyes and she quickly dipped her fingers between her legs. "Your honesty is so very refreshing," she scowled softly.
"I know," the princess said with a self-satisfied grin. "Now put your fingers inside yourself."
West turned her face away. "How many?"
"Two."
She carefully inched her fingers inside, humiliated yet exhilarated at the same time. Had anyone else tried to demand such a thing from her she would likely have snapped their neck.
"How beautifully sinful," the princess exclaimed. "Tell me how it feels."
Only one word came to mind. "Wet."
"Already?' Langwidere teased her. "You were excited before you began?"
"That is entirely your fault for being a scandalous minx," West growled at her, moving her fingers slowly until she found a rhythm, and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.
"I have been called many things. Never that," Langwidere laughed.
"Firsts, Lady Ev. Firsts," West reminded her, starting to allow her actions to bring her pleasure now that her embarrassment had been quelled.
"Indeed," Langwidere agreed, feeling rather happy as she leaned down and placed a sweet kiss on one of West's welts, just below her belly button.
West cursed in her native language and rocked her hips into her hand.
Pleased with the reaction, Langwidere sat back up and watched intently without further participation. Well... without further physical participation. She couldn't bring herself not to comment. "Is two fingers enough for you, little witch?"
West scowled at her and nodded. "Yes, Lady Ev."
"Then why haven't you come undone yet?"
"You're distracting me."
"I see." She endeavored to be quiet.
West closed her eyes again and let the feelings of warmth and friction wash over her, losing herself in the hazy glow of pleasure and finally able to bring herself release.
"What happened to your face?"
West looked at her sister, startled. "What are you doing here?"
"A little birdie told me you came home in the middle of the night weeks ago, hardly able to sit, and then last night you came home with claw marks on your face. I see it's true."
Her hand instinctively went to her cheek, fingers rubbing absently over the raised fingernail marks, and she smirked. "That's entirely my own business, not yours and not your little birdie's."
Glinda's eyes flashed. "It is my business that you continue to embarrass what's left of our family," she hissed. "Whatever it is you're doing, I'll see it stopped."
"You won't," West said dismissively. "You don't control me." She made the mistake of standing up, inadvertently revealing the welts on her stomach through the sheer middle of her dress.
"What is this madness?" Glinda gasped, crossing the distance between them in a whirlwind of anger and disappointment and grabbing her sister by the arms. "What have you done to yourself?"
"Stop pretending you care," West said with a snort, shaking her arms free of her sister's grasp.
"What are those marks?" Glinda insisted. "How many more are there?"
"They are all over my breasts," West finally gave in, using the most seductive voice she could muster to unnerve the Mother of the Sound and Pure . "My belly... my hips... my thighs."
"Who did this to you?"
"A girl doesn't kiss and tell..."
Tip tied her horse quickly and ran up the steps to the palace two at a time. When the doors opened she wasted no time with pleasantries. "I need to see the princess right away!"
"Who are you?" Langwidere asked, descending the staircase to stand in front of the girl. "Oh, you're the one that killed Jack."
"Stop saying that; he's alive!" Tip yelled frustratedly, but pushed past her own frustrations and shook her head. "I'm not here about that. I'm here because Mistress West is in trouble."
"Why are you telling me? That witch can handle herself."
"I'm telling you because I know you're the one she comes to when she can't handle herself, and right now she can't handle herself. Her sister took her away and locked her up."
"Glinda?" Langwidere asked, eyebrows lifting. "Against her will?"
"Of course against her will, otherwise I wouldn't be here!" Tip shouted exasperatedly.
"Well what do you need me for? Why haven't you freed her already?"
"I can't get in to Glinda's fortress, and she wouldn't go with me, anyway. We both know you're the only person she'd go with."
"I disagree; I think she'd go with anyone who came to free her, if she were being held against her will," Langwidere argued. "However, I will accompany you just in case."
"How are we going to get past Glinda?"
As their horses approached the stark white fortress, Langwidere turned to Tip. "Why did her sister take her and lock her up?" she finally asked.
"Something about embarrassing the family, I'm not quite sure," Tip said with a shrug. "I think maybe someone told Glinda about some of the... things... you do together."
"How terribly un-foward thinking," Langwidere said with obvious disappointment. "Was it you? Did you tell her?"
"Me? No way. It's none of my business. And even if it were my business, Mistress West always looks... happy... when she returns from a visit to your palace."
"Hm."
Glinda met them outside the walls of the fortress. "Go away," she said darkly. "Neither of you are welcome here." Her eyes narrowed in on Langwidere. "Especially you, as I am now certain of who it is that has been indulging my sister's twisted vulgarities."
"I don't see you in a position to judge," Langwidere said flippantly, sitting taller on her horse. "Being married while you require vows of chastity from those who serve you."
Tip couldn't help smirking to herself, and turned her face to hide her amusement from Glinda.
"Leave," Glinda said simply in response.
"I think not," Langwidere said, hopping down from her horse and handing the reins to Tip.
The princess approached Glinda and reached under her dress, and in a flash she had the gun the wizard had given her as a prototype pointed at Glinda's forehead.
The Mistress of the North gasped and took an instinctive step back.
"Take me to your sister or I will kill every single witch in your ridiculously colorless domain. Honestly, it's very frigid."
Glinda held up her hands placatingly and took another step back. "Follow me," she said, anger bubbling below the calm surface of her features.
Langwidere thought she brightened up the stark fortress as she followed Glinda through a labyrinth of hallways, keeping the gun trained on the back of her head, finger poised on the trigger. She didn't want to kill anyone, but this was a rescue mission, and she was trying to be the heroine.
The princess could tell when the neared Mistress West, because the woman was screaming in rage about being locked up, wanting to kill Glinda, why wouldn't her magic work to open the door, and so forth.
Glinda paused, and Langwidere leveled the gun more firmly at her. "Open the door," she demanded.
"You will regret this," Glinda said through clenched teeth.
"I believe you are the one who will regret this. You are mistreating the only family you have left. If you were truly a good witch, you wouldn't care about things like embarrassment. You would only care for your sister's happiness. But you are not a good witch, Glinda of the North. You are a bad witch, and someday you will pay for that. Now open the fucking door."
Surprised at the crass language, and frankly surprised at the scolding from this typically spoiled brat, Glinda waved her hand and the wall opened into a doorway.
West jumped out, ready to strangle someone, and froze at the sight before her: Princess Langwidere with a gun at Glinda's forehead. "Oh!" she exclaimed, eyes going back and forth between the two of them. "Well I must say this is a pleasant surprise." She moved toward Langwidere, grinning. "My knight in shining armor," she said, filled with a giddiness she hadn't felt since she was an innocent child.
"How sickening," Glinda said icily.
Langwidere moved the trajectory of the gun and fired a shot into the wall above Glinda's head, cackling with amusement at the way the 'good' witch shrieked and dropped to the ground, arms protecting her face. "Dont. Be. Rude," she scolded. "Now get up and show us out."
"How did you know I was here?" West asked as they followed Glinda back to the fortress's entrance.
"Tip," Langwidere replied, keeping the gun trained on Glinda.
"I'll have to thank her," Mistress West said with a nod, then squeezed Langwidere's arm. "Not in the same way I hope to thank you, though, Lady Ev," she whispered.
Langwidere smirked and nudged her. "Don't be insolent."
Glinda had to admit, her sister did sound rather happy.
When they reached the doors, Langwidere pulled West outside and turned around to face Glinda once more. "Can I trust that you'll leave her alone?"
Glinda sighed, staring at the snowy ground for a few long moments, and then slowly raised her head. "You can."
West thought her sister wanted to say more, but of course she wouldn't. That was Glinda - repressed as always.
Once the doors closed with Glinda inside, Langwidere led West to Tip and the horses.
"You're all right!" Tip shouted as soon as she saw them.
"Tip!" West called, a smile lighting her face. "Thank you! You're wonderful."
"I'm just glad you're all right," Tip said, blushing.
"I am," West said, spinning around, enjoying the fresh air. "Thanks to the two of you."