The Wicked Witch of the East: Evanora's Return
[Part 2]
CHAPTER 11: SISTER
-Emerald City-
*~ Evanora ~*
How many times has it been now that she's woken up aching all over? Her magic thrums, burning under her skin from overuse. She must have pushed too far. Again. Losing consciousness in the middle of enemy territory is a certain method of getting one's self captured or killed. Seeing as she can still think and move, it seems logical to assume the later has not befallen her.
Still, the forest is no place to remain idle and yet… Yet this feels nothing like the forest.
"So, are you going to keep pretending to be asleep?"
Automatically rising into a defensive position, Evanora bolts upright, but it strains her body and the blankets wrapped around her become her only defense from falling out of bed from loss of balance. The woman to her side seems hardly bothered by any of it.
Locasta marks her place and sets the book aside, meeting Evanora's eyes unflinchingly. "Afternoon. I take it you're feeling better?"
Sensing no immediate danger, Evanora hesitantly allows her power to settle back down. Warily, she looks around her. "The Palace?"
"It's changed, though I doubt it's to the point that you wouldn't recognize it. Speaking of locations, what were you doing in the Eastern Wood?"
"Why am I here?"
Locasta's face twists into something alike wry amusement. "Enilrul knows."
Evanora can do without the obvious sarcasm, but she's in no position to be reprimanding the younger witch when she is the one who entered her home uninvited, in the middle of the night, and then proceeded to steal from her.
Reminded of her heist, she becomes aware that she is very much not wearing the slippers anymore. Anxiety spikes, the realization that she is helpless before a candidate of the Cardinal Coven solidifying her status as prisoner. Albeit, a prisoner in a rather nice room instead of a dungeon cell, caught in blankets to the alternative of magic suppressant cuffs.
Then Locasta sighs, expression dropping. "If your plan was to infiltrate Malvania's castle, you can put it from your mind. Zurline would have wards in place with only her followers granted access to the less important rooms, if even that. You may have been stronger than I, previously, but without your amulet I doubt you will make it very far without having to rely on the silver slippers."
She decides it best to refrain from admitting that she had indeed succeeded in doing just so, only failing as a result of being discovered and outnumbered by the followers in queston. "What is planned for me?"
A trial, accompanied by banishment or exile most probably, with chances favoring the later. She may well be sent beyond the border to one of the lands beyond the deserts, where murder is common place and no one would think twice about driving a sword through the heart of a witch, given the opportunity. Death being a kinder fate than most in those territories. She shudders at the thought of her head ending up as a trophy for the Princess of Ev.
"That depends on Glinda and her wizard." Locasta shifts in her chair, shrugging. "I might be willing to convince her to be lenient, for a price."
The resemblance Locasta bears to Zurline in that moment is so striking that Evanora briefly fears she has indeed been speaking to the Wicked Fairy rather than her once friend. She quickly shakes the thought from her mind and says not a word on the matter. Locasta's temper can be as fierce as Theodora's whenever any slight comparison to that woman is brought up.
"Why?"
Locasta blinks, apparently caught off guard. "Why, what?"
"Why would you make such a proposal? We both know you're not the type to break your word."
Indeed not. Locasta may have worded it in such a manner to leave herself with some leeway, but she would only ever exploit it if her mercy is proven undeserved. After all, she's not Zurline.
A darkness falls over the face of the Witch of the North, her stare penetrating. There is a hint of anger behind her eyes. "For all you may have done, you are still my coven sister and I would not be where I am without your strength."
That is true enough. For all the years and secrets between them, they were still spun from the hands of the same master with similar purpose. To protect the Land of Oz.
Swallowing fear and pride, Evanora nods, accepting the explanation. "What do you want from me?"
"Information. Truth. Answers."
She should have expected as much. With a sigh, she relents. "Ask your questions."
-Emerald City-
*~ Glinda ~*
It has been six days since the attack and Glinda still doesn't know what to make of the situation with Evanora. According to Locasta, the Emerald Witch woke for a few hours that morning, not long enough or with enough strength to stir chaos, but apparently long enough for Locasta to gleam some of Evanora's knowledge about Zurline and her followers.
The coven itself is frighteningly large, consisting of more wicked witches than Glinda knew existed in one region, though many of them are village practitioners and novices still. There are some trained in the ways of a proper witch, with artefacts to enhance their sisters' chances, but none with the power possessed of Glinda or Locasta – unless Theodora decides to join.
The threat they pose on their own would be no more than any other enemy without a plan, but under the lead of Zurline every action they take becomes a possible threat in the making. It's nerve wrecking, the thought that Emerald City might be overwhelmed at a moment's notice with no true indicator of what the once-faery desires.
Aside from, apparently, killing off the royal bloodline.
Yet, if that were the whole truth, why had she spared Firefly? Was it insurance against Evanora? Or does it have something to do with the girl's power?
Does Evanora know?
Firefly was still a baby when she was taken from Evanora, hardly as old as a month, far too young to be displaying any signs of magical talent. So why? What set her apart? If not that, then what were Zurline's plans?
"Glinda, will you stop pacing please?"
She stops, sheepish, and reluctantly sits down by the Wizard's desk. "I'm worried."
"I can tell." He sighs. "I didn't think Evanora would have this much of an effect on you."
"She doesn't."
"Then what?"
"The wicked witches. Zurline. The whole matter with Firefly. Evanora in the Eastern Wood. All of it. It just… Something doesn't add up."
"You think there's more going on than we know."
"I don't know. I don't know what to make of any of this."
"What did Evanora have to say about it?"
"Locasta says exhaustion caught up to her before she could ask about any weaknesses. The most we know now are the numbers we're facing. About three dozen."
Oz steeples his hands, brows furrowing. "That… is a lot."
"It is." After some consideration, she adds hesitantly, "We can't trust that Evanora won't take advantage of the situation either."
"That would risk her daughter, wouldn't it?"
"She doesn't know. Locasta didn't tell her."
"I can understand that." He nods, running a hand over his face. "But if what you say about her looking for Firefly is true…"
"What if it isn't? What if she's just been hunting for power all this time? What if the Apple of Vitiation changed her as it did Theodora?" It's the first time she's voiced these fears aloud. The thought having run around in her head ever since she learned of the girl's parentage. Would Evanora hurt her own child? Glinda can't be sure.
"I think, the best we can do at this point, is talk to her. Listen to what she has to say, how she reacts. Observe her. We'll decide whether to tell her about Firefly after. Of course, that will also depend on what Firefly wants. We haven't told her either."
"Should we?" She hesitates. "Finley said she wanted to meet Evanora, but…"
"She could be dangerous." He agrees, looking equally as weary. "There is no easy choice here."
He's right. The best they can do is watch, wait.
"I'll speak with Locasta. Get her opinion on this."
He nods. "She might have a plan we haven't considered. They were close before, as I recall."
Glinda can't help smiling. "You remember my stories?"
Oz laughs. "How can I not when your eyes light up whenever you tell them?"
-Emerald City-
*~ Evanora ~*
She is uncertain how to feel.
Although a prisoner and treated as much by Locasta vocally, the witch's behavior and that of the guards and servants simply don't match. True, none but Locasta dare to look her in the eye, but neither the servants nor the guards seem to hold any distain for her.
The servants bring her meals, answer when she speaks and take their leave at an ordinary pace when their duties are complete. The guards stationed outside check in every few hours or when she's been too quiet, never rude and never intruding.
It reminds her of her early days in Emerald City, after she saved King Pastoria. Had she known who he was at the time, she isn't certain she would have interfered and yet, if she hadn't, what would her life have been like instead? Sweet Heather wouldn't be dead and King Pastoria may yet be alive as well. Evanora wouldn't have been dragged into this war with Glinda. Theodora wouldn't have her heart withered away.
No, none of this may have happened, but had she not saved him, so much worse may have occurred in its place.
Theodora may well have been consumed by her own flames. Evanora would have been caught and brought to her father's heel if not killed or made to join Zurline's forces as part of an exchange. She would never have met Andahan or understood what it meant to value her health for the sake of another.
A knock at the door startles her, but she relaxes soon enough. An enemy wouldn't knock. Well. Locasta might. One of the guards peeks around the door and they exchange polite conversation for a moment before she's told she has a visitor. Evanora's brow furrows with confusion. Aside from Locasta who sees no need for an announcement of her presence, no one has been to visit her for the last two days, since her initial waking.
It can't be the Wizard, if so she would have been taken to him. Knuck might, if only to be able to spit in her face. Perhaps the Captain, if word has gotten around of her presence. Then, as likely as it is unlikely, there's Glinda. The Witch of the South is well aware of her presence, in fact, Locasta has made it clear that it was Glinda who found her. Yet, Evanora has seen nothing of her. An indication that Glinda would much rather stay away. Or perhaps the time has come to decide her fate. If so, it seems rather anticlimactic.
It is Glinda, in the end. She greets her by name and sits down in the chair Locasta has taken up as her reading and interrogation space. Following that is only silence accompanied by Glinda's eyes on her.
It's uncomfortable, awkward and finally Evanora has enough. "What do you want, Glinda?"
What more could you want?
An echo of her words a year past. How long ago it seems now.
"Why did you kill my father?"
She sighs. "This again? I answered already, have I not?"
"Not clearly."
"What do you expect me to say? Rather, what is it you hope to hear? I knew full well what I was doing when I did it. There is no peace to be found in that, Glinda."
The former princess acknowledges her with a nod, but she persists still, unsatisfied. Still the same as all those years ago, when the magic she wove together held more depth and she knew it. "You protected Emerald City for so long, protected my father. Why kill him?"
Evanora considers remaining stubborn, but the idea slips from her mind.
She's been caught.
Glinda holds her life in her hands. Even if Evanora does manage to escape, Zurline will not forgive her betrayal, if she's not already moved against her. Nothing Evanora does from here onward will save her. She failed. There's no more point in keeping her secrets. No more point in continuing. Her sister, Andahan, Heather… Her family is gone. Lost. She's lost.
"I made a bargain with a wicked witch. My part was to kill the king." She shakes her head, smiling wryly. "Satisfied?"
Glinda looks completely unsurprised. It strikes Evanora, confuses her. Does she know more than she's saying?
"Why make a bargain? What could you gain by killing him?"
"Nothing." She admits without thinking, too surprised by the intensity in Glinda's eyes to give more thought to her answer. She regrets it instantly, but she doesn't have time to flounder for a cover up.
Glinda darts up, hands pressed against the edge of the bed for balance, towering over her. Her face so close Evanora can see the golden flecks of her irises. She tries to back away, but Glinda only follows her with every shuffle.
"Then what did you want? Why do it if you gain nothing?"
"It wasn't-" She loses her balance. The blankets, caught beneath Glinda, don't have enough pull to keep her in place. She falls, going head first down the side of the bed. She twists her neck and tries to use her arms to cushion the blow, only half succeeding.
Pain lances down her right shoulder and through her arm, alerting her to the mistake she made. Groaning, she turns onto her back, head now flat on the floor, body twisted at an odd angle with her legs still half on the bed. She catches sight of Glinda, staring down at her with wide eyes, one hand wrapped around her ankle in an attempt to catch her.
"Are you alright?" She sounds so shocked.
Evanora! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Are you alright! I didn't mean to!
Unbidden, and perhaps quite inappropriately, Evanora starts to laugh, and just as she did back then, Glinda looks at her incredulously.
"It seems some things haven't changed." She remarks with amusement, watching confusion play across the Good Witch's features before her cheeks flush in embarrassment and remembrance.
"That was an accident!" Glinda insists, shuffling to the edge with an outstretched arm, apparently planning to help pull her up.
Removing her legs from their awkward angle, Evanora accepts Glinda's offer with her left hand and pushes up off the floor with her lower body. Once standing, she tests her shoulder and winces at the pain the slight movement causes.
"Sit down. I'll heal you."
Reluctantly, she does as instructed.
"I'm sorry." Glinda whispers, bringing out her wand. "I suppose I still haven't grown out of that habit."
"You always did like being close to people." She glances over her injured shoulder at the blonde. "Sometimes a bit too close."
"I can't help it when someone doesn't tell me the truth." She shoots back.
Silence settles over them and when Glinda announces that she's done, Evanora just thanks her and lies back down, not commenting when Glinda remains sitting on the bed beside her. The quiet stretches on until the younger witch hesitantly breaks it, all while staring at her lap.
"I missed this."
Evanora raises a brow. "Startling me out of bed?"
She shakes her head. "Talking to you. Without all the insults or pain. The way we used to."
Andahan had always been fond of his sister and being assigned her tutor, Evanora naturally spent quite a bit of time both hearing of and from her. There was a time when Glinda would show up in her rooms to enthusiastically shout her awake every morning, much to the amusement of the servants and the dismay of the nobles.
Evanora had explained the impropriety once, but Glinda had waved her off.
Never mind that we're only five years apart, we're friends, aren't we? So I'm still going to do it!
It certainly never felt like they only differed five years in age. Glinda has always been carefree, more childlike. Often Evanora wondered if she wasn't also raising the princess alongside her child-sister. Theodora picked up several of Glinda's habits in those years, many of which she never outgrew.
That is, until the fire.
"I'm sorry."
She doesn't expect Glinda to take her right hand in response or to lie down beside her, mindful of her shoulder. It seems so surreal. One moment they're arguing, enemies, the next Glinda is all but curling into her side.
Even when King Pastoria was still alive, Glinda would only do something like this after a particularly distressing moment, and always in times when she sought the comfort of the mother no longer with her. She admitted it to Evanora, the second time it happened. Not in as many words, but the implication was there.
Locasta had teased her endlessly.
"Why did you do it?" Glinda repeats, her words muffled.
Evanora doesn't move her gaze from the ceiling, the hand resting over her stomach clenching. "I had to make a choice." She admits at last. To Glinda or the Faeries, she doesn't know. "A life for a life. She would only allow one to live."
Beside her, Glinda pushes up to look at her. Evanora expects to see pain and though it is there, there is also understanding. Sympathy.
She averts her eyes and it takes all her strength to not start crying. "Not that I have any evidence that she kept her word." It's the first time she has spoken of this, acknowledging the possibility that all she has done has been for naught. That she was simply used. "I never…" She can't continue, her throat tightening. She closes her eyes against the sting that accompanies the thought.
Her baby girl is dead.
Glinda squeezes her hand. "Evanora, there's something you should know."
Reluctantly, she looks at the Witch of the South, her vision blurred by tears.
"Your daughter is alive."
So, uhm. That was intense. Also, quite different from my original plan, but well, not everyone forgives in the same way. Besides, Evanora deserved a hug, so good on Glinda, even if it wasn't in the script.
Until next time!
– L.L.