A/N- By the way, I don't own any of this. I claim no rights to any of the characters of Once Upon a Time, L. Frank Baum, or Gregory Maguire. I am simply borrowing them and mixing them together; I hope you enjoy.

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"This sucks." Emma groaned as they trudged through the rain. The past couple of days had been quiet; both women were mulling over the words of the other as they trudged forward. Currently, however, the rain was making enough noise that they would have had to shout to converse anyway. Suddenly, Regina threw out a hand and it struck the blonde in the chest. "What gives-?" Emma asked but looked to where the brunette was pointing.

The outline of a seemingly abandoned cottage caught her eye and she looked back at the woman questioningly. "Friends of yours?" She asked with a smirk.

"I hope to God not." The brunette retorted and led the blonde up the path and to the porch. She knocked loudly as Emma peered around.

"Doesn't seem that anyone has been home for a long time." She touched a dusty woodpile tentatively before walking to the end of the porch. "Wouldn't these people have animals or something? A garden or fire going?"

"Yes, they would." Regina pushed the door forcibly and it swung open. The blonde peered around her to find a small, one room, cottage with a table, bed, and fireplace. "It's small."

"But it's dry and once we get a fire going, it will be warm." The blonde strode past her and into the room. "And I saw a pump outside, which means we can wash off." She dropped her pack on the tiny table and bustled to the fireplace to clean it out as Regina scavenged about the house opening cupboards and drawers; looking for anything useful.

Half an hour later, the fire was crackling merrily, Regina was putting sheets on the straw mattress, and Emma had stripped down to her underclothes to bathe from a bucket of water. She was even delighted the brunette had found soap in one of the drawers. Taking the large bucket of water outside, she washed her hair on the back porch, drew more water, rinsed off again and came back inside.

"I got more water, in case you want to wash. It's out on the porch."

Regina looked up from where she had been pouring over a leather-bound book. "I've found something interesting here." She tapped it.

Emma pulled a long nightshirt that Regina had found over her head and approached the woman. "It looks like a journal."

"Indeed. It outlines major events in time from the incident of Dorothy's house up until a couple of years ago it seems." She handed the book to her. "I'm going to wash. See what you think."

Emma shrugged to the woman's retreating back and moved closer to the fire to use the light. The blonde sat her rump on the hearth and tucked her knees to her chin as she tousled her curls so that they might dry. Green eyes skimmed the first few year's worth of entries as the author talked about Dorothy delivering them from the reign of the Witch of the East and her quest to defeat the Witch of the West. Then there were entries about mysterious beasts flying over the countryside and their connection to the Ozian government. There were a couple of excited paragraphs about rumors of a man named Liir who claimed to be the son of the Witch of the West and then several about the Ozman's return.

Emma noted words and phrases that she didn't understand such as "Clock of the Time Dragon" and "tik-tok". Once again, she was finding it difficult to reconcile her version of Oz and Dorothy with the actual reality (if there was such a thing) of Elphaba and Nessarose. In spite of her confusion, however, Emma continued to flip to the end where the last entry was most interesting.

It seemed to be dated a couple of years ago but the blonde reminded herself about what Regina had said of the passage of time in Oz. Nevertheless, it was a curious journaling about a barrage of knights that had come through town demanding that the town's people pay tribute to their new monarch. Confused and scared, the people had apparently done as they were told and the knights rode on. The author of the journal was under the impression that this was only the beginning of something bad and spoke of a desire to move further out into the wilderness to avoid the politics and war if there was one.

Emma reread the entry and tried to eek out any more information from it that she could as Regina slipped back into the room, unbeknownst to the blonde. The witch watched the woman silently as green eyes ran across the page; scrutinizing every word and sentence. The fire crackled merrily behind her and cast her curls with a brassy, golden glow. The off-white nightshirt was too big and fell haphazardly off one of the woman's strong shoulders.

Regina found her tongue worrying her bottom lip as heat curled in her stomach. Why on earth did the woman seem so appetizing? The brunette mused that it was perhaps because she was off-limits. She had never been very good at staying away from those things forbidden to her. Perhaps it was because the blonde was the only familiar thing that existed in the whole damnable land. Or maybe, it could be that there was some part of her that felt safe-

"Regina?" Emma asked uncertainly; the woman had been staring through her.

Dark eyes jerked up to meet hers. "Have you come to the part about the soldiers?"

"Yes." Emma nodded. Still warily watching the woman as she folded her dress and leggings and set them aside before crossing the room and sitting down in the rocking chair by the fire. A faint creaking sound echoed through the small house and the blonde found it inexplicably comforting. "And then the journal ends there." She frowned. "It's dated about two years ago…but time here is strange."

"I think it would be safe to assume twenty years have passed."

"It would explain why all the villages we have come through show no sign of immediate duress. If there were a war going on-"

"You would imagine hardship." The brunette nodded. "Yes, I agree." She reached over and held out a hand; Emma placed the journal there. "However, it would still be safe to assume that this new queen is still reigning."

"So you think there is a queen?"

"Well, considering there is little magic used here, it leads me to believe that someone has attempted to stamp it out."

"Like a monarch." Emma followed.

"Exactly. A queen wouldn't want everyone doing magic now would she?"

"Especially if she can't herself."

Regina's head snapped up. "Good point, Miss Swan."

Emma smiled faintly and then yawned widely. At this sign of fatigue, Regina stood, handed her a blanket and nodded in the direction of a straw palate in the corner. "What's that?" the blonde asked in confusion.

"Your bed."