"Queen Langwidere!" Tip called frantically as she landed on the queen's private balcony with Mistress West cradled in her arms.
The queen jumped. "How did you do that?" she asked. "You're not a witch."
"Please help her... she thought she killed me, and I've no idea if that has anything to do with why she's done this, but she won't listen to me, she won't let me close them..." Tip said, almost in tears.
The dripping of blood onto her balcony startled her and her eyes snapped to the source - two nasty gashes, one on each of Mistress West's wrists, partially covered by wrapped cloth.
Concern about blood on her carpets weighted her mind for the briefest of moments before she internally chastised herself and beckoned Tip inside. "Well hurry up! Get her on the bed or something!"
Tip carried her in easily with her newfound powers and lay her on the bed as West tore dramatically at the cloths tied around her wounds. "She's a bit delirious, I- I think she took too much opium... She kept telling me that it was too late, that she'd killed me, that Glinda hates her and wouldn't even give her a chance. She didn't say any more than that, but she said it over and over." She paused, as if debating to reveal what she wanted to say next. "I- I tried to close the wounds but my powers are new and she easily blocked my magic."
"So you are a witch," Langwidere said. "Discussion for another time. If she passes out, can you seal the wounds?"
"I'd think so, but I don't know," Tip said with a shrug.
"Good. We'll try it," Langwidere said, taking a seat on the bed beside West and brushing the hair out of her eyes. "Hello, little witch," she said gently, kissing West's forehead.
"Princesa?" West asked through a haze of poppies.
"That's right," Langwidere said fondly, her hand trailing lower to close around West's throat. "I need you to pass out, so be a good girl and do as I tell you," she whispered, applying slight pressure.
Tip turned away, feeling as though she were intruding on a sacred moment.
"Yes, Lady Ev," West murmured, closing her eyes as they started to roll back in her head.
Tip didn't really want to hear their private moments either, so she plugged her ears and didn't hear Langwidere calling her name. She turned around when something hit her in the back of the head, though. "Ow!"
"She's passed out!" Langwidere hissed. "Do your... thing!" She waved her hand in the air to indicate she didn't know what to call Tip's magic at that moment.
Without Mistress West's resistance it was much easier to close the wounds. Though she only had a very basic grasp of what to do with her new magic, so she couldn't heal the scars that would be left or anything like that. It was a very primitive job she did, but all she cared about was that the skin was stitched up and no longer bleeding.
After making sure West truly wasn't bleeding and in any immediate danger, they moved to the balcony. "Mistress West is easy to read. I know what she thinks of you, but what do you think of her?"
"Am I not easy to read?"
"Uh... no, you're not. I mean, I think you care, at least a little bit, which isn't really something she has, so..." Tip trailed off, not sure how to finish the sentence.
"What exactly is it that you want to know?" Langwidere asked, never one to dance around the point of something.
"Will you take care of her until this self-hatred passes?"
"You mean will I keep her from doing this again? That's up to her, but I will certainly try."
Tip nodded, figuring that was as good as it gets. "I'm thinking she'd rather wake up and it be just the two of you, but if you need anything, just send word."
And with that, Tip flew down to the ground and began making her way home to the brothel.
West woke several hours later, a throbbing, pulsing pain in both of her wrists. She groaned and rolled onto her side, not sure she wanted to open her eyes. The moments that led up to this one started a slow movie reel inside her head and she groaned again, opening her eyes and looking around. "Princesa, your bed," she complained when she saw the blood-stained velvet.
Langwidere looked up from the book she was reading and moved from the chair she was in to sit beside West on the bed. "Yes, it is my first priority," she said with obvious sarcasm. "Your life is a close second." She reached a hand out to stroke West's cheek, thumb brushing back and forth over dripping eye makeup that had made its way down. When her thumb came away black, she didn't even protest. "What were you thinking?" she finally asked.
"Nothing was right, and on top of that I thought I'd killed Tip," West said softly.
"Nothing was right? What did Glinda do now? Tip said you mentioned something about her."
At the pained look on West's features, Langwidere held up a hand and shook her head.
"Wait. Tell me later. First let's get you cleaned up."
The queen had her servants draw a hot bath, and when they'd gone, she carefully untied and removed the cloths from West's wrists, then helped her out of her dress and underwear - she wasn't wearing any stockings.
She slid her arms beneath the witch and lifted her with a bit of effort, thinking it worth it when West let out a shriek of pleased surprise and her lips actually pulled into something like a smile.
West put her arms around Langwidere's neck as she was carried to the washroom and gently lowered into the bath. She released the queen with a sigh, resting her head back on the cool porcelain and staring at the ceiling. When she caught sight of her wrists, her jaw dropped at seeing the jagged stitches closing up her wounds. "Oh my."
Langwidere followed the witch's gaze and gave a little shrug of half amusement, half anguish. "Apparently she doesn't know much more about magic than I would."
Concentrating, West removed the stitches and left only the scars that would have formed naturally over time anyway.
"I'm very angry with you," Langwidere blurted out suddenly, standing beside the bath tub.
West's head dropped, eyes trained on the water around her. "I'm sorry."
"What you did is selfish, short-sighted and stupid," the blonde continued, her tone clipped and stormy. "I'm very angry and very disappointed." And also hurt.
"Princesa," West pled, turning her face toward the queen's now, tears welling in her eyes.
Langwidere tried not to escalate further, but with wide eyes she raised her voice and yelled at Mistress West. "You know I've just lost my father! Do you think I like to make a habit of losing those close to me?"
With a gasp, the tears spilled over and West tried to get up, but the queen's sharp directive stopped her.
"Sit down!"
"I didn't-"
"You didn't what?" Langwidere shouted, gripping the edge of the bath tub and shaking it, water splashing over the sides and onto the tiled floor. "Didn't know you were close to me? Didn't think, didn't care, didn't what, Mistress West?"
The formal title pierced her and she longed for the privilege of being called little witch. "Please forgive me," she begged, hands covering her face in shame. "You're the only-"
"It didn't seem to matter to you that you're the only person I have, so what should it matter to me whether I'm the only one you have?" the queen interrupted bitingly.
West wouldn't have thought it possible to feel any worse than she had when she'd cut herself open, but now she did. "You're right, it was selfish and short sighted and stupid, and I'm so, so sorry, Lady Ev," she cried, still covering her face. "I understand if you won't forgive me but please know how sorry I am."
Langwidere leaned closer, putting her face right in front of West's covered one. "The tricky thing is not whether you're sorry to me, but whether you're sorry to yourself. Whether you're going to finish the job the moment you're alone."
West uncovered her face and stared pleadingly into the queen's eyes. "I swear I will not."
Langwidere stared back at her for an interminable moment and then grabbed her by a fistful of hair and crushed their mouths together, kissing the witch possessively and soundly, claiming her with teeth, lips and tongue. When she wrenched herself away, breathing hard, she narrowed her eyes. "You frightened me and I do not like to be frightened."
With a quiet gasp, West's fingers went to her lips, tingling from the fierceness of their first kiss, and she nodded. "I won't frighten you again, Lady Ev," she said, with not a small amount of wonder.
That wonder only grew when Langwidere turned away from her and began to undress. She averted her eyes out of respect, only daring to look when the princess- queen joined her in the bath. The mask was gone and her beautiful hair was down, cascading in ringlets over her shoulders, so long that the tips were immersed well below the water level. A jagged scar covered the right side of her face from cheekbone to temple, the skin a blaring, angry red almost in the shape of a lightning bolt. She also had a half-moon scar beside her left eye, almost as if her eye were being cradled. The queen's eyes were closed.
As her gaze traveled lower, she found a mess of scars covering the front of the queen's body, and she assumed they covered the back as well - seeing as how there were so many of them, her back was not likely to have been left unscathed by whatever had hurt her.
"Now do you understand why I wear a mask?" Langwidere had not opened her eyes.
"No," West said, getting onto her knees, moving closer to the queen, watching intently as the water lapped at her breasts and shoulders.
Langwidere's eyes snapped open. "Don't lie to me on top of your already grievous offenses of the evening," she said warningly.
"Do you think your scars detract from your beauty?" West asked, eyebrows slightly lifting. At the queen's silence, she exhaled a sharp breath and shook her head. "Let me assure you, they do not." Her voice had gone raspy without her consent. "Not an ounce," she swore further. "With the air around us as my witness, not an ounce." She was silent for another minute and then asked, "why have you shared yourself like this with me?"
Langwidere leveled her with a steely glare. "You are not the only person in Oz to have thought of escaping her torment," she said quietly. "But I choose to live with mine every day, and there's a strength in that that weakness cannot touch."
"I know I'm weak," West said, "and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for-" She had to call forth the courage to continue. "I'm sorry for hurting you. It won't happen again. You've been so good to me, Princesa- Lady Ev, and asked nothing in return. You have been exactly what I needed every time I needed anything. And I feel so very foolish for doing something to hurt myself instead of coming to you. And for not considering the effect such a thing might have on the one person I have come to care for above all others."
"Tip, I know," Langwidere said wryly.
"And I have been accused of being cheeky," West said, holding her breath, hoping this light teasing meant that the queen would forgive her.
Langwidere sat up and ran the backs of her fingers down either side of West's neck. "If you wanted to hurt, I could have hurt you," she whispered, drawing the witch closer.
West put her hands behind her back, too tempted to touch and not wanting to risk ruining the moment. She shuffled forward on her knees as she was drawn closer, and bit her lip, waiting.
"And tonight... for frightening me when I do not like to be frightened, I will hurt you, little witch."
"It's no more than I deserve, Lady Ev," West murmured, grateful beyond measure at the return of the queen's affectionate nickname. Having it withheld had affected her more than she would have thought. "Can a condemned witch put in one small request?"
Amused despite herself, Langwidere raised an eyebrow and allowed the indulgence.
"Would you leave your mask off? Now that I've seen you without it, I fear I am hopelessly addicted."
Langwidere considered it. "Hm. Maybe at a time when you are not in serious trouble," she decided. "Tonight, you are in very serious trouble."
Mistress West blushed and closed her eyes, but had to admit that was fair. "Yes, Lady Ev."
"All right. Wash yourself and don't bother getting dressed," the queen announced a few moments later, removing her hands from around West's neck and climbing out of the bath herself. "We will discuss your punishment when I, however, am dressed."
While they were bathing, the servants had changed the linens, so now they sat on a clean bed, West naked and Langwidere in full Queen regalia, from a dark red dress to a delicately-jeweled mask. Revealing herself to the witch had gone in a rather pleasing manner, but she pushed those thoughts out of her mind for the moment, set on the task at hand. "I need to know a punishment that will truly humble and affect you," she said finally, after long moments of staring. "Obviously a spanking, while it can be painful, would do neither of those things. What would you suggest?"
West was surprised to be consulted regarding a fitting punishment for herself, but she supposed it made sense. "I don't know," she said honestly, then blushed. "I think the only true punishment was knowing you were angry at me. Anything else pales in comparison."
"Then perhaps I shall be angry again."
"Please don't," West said, not quite liking how desperate she sounded. "You could have me publicly lashed by one of your guardsmen... I wouldn't enjoy that."
"I don't want you lashed. You've spilled enough blood."
"Publicly spanked, then. I wouldn't enjoy it at all if it weren't from your hand, Lady Ev."
"Paddled," Langwidere decided. "I don't want anyone else's hands on you."
"Of course, my lady," West said, bowing her head. "And please, just remember how sorry I already am..."
"Indeed," the queen said with a nod of her head. "Put on your dress. I don't want anyone else seeing you naked, either."
"And my panties?"
"No. You'll have no need of them. The flimsy material of your dress will do nothing to stay the paddle's sting, but it will keep your bare skin for my eyes only."
West couldn't deny the thrill the queen's possessiveness invoked deep within her. "Yes, Lady Ev." She slipped off the bed and retrieved her dress from the floor, putting it on under the queen's watchful gaze.
"I will go and make the arrangements. You will sit on the bed and wait until you are summoned to me."
As she was almost out the doors, Langwidere's heart gave an irregular tick and she stopped, spinning around to face the witch.
"On second thought, come with me." She still wasn't entirely unafraid to leave Mistress West alone, despite the promises she had been made.
A sense of impending doom crowding her from all sides, West rose from the bed again and obediently followed the queen.