“I just wanted us to be together. It’s stupid but… with Oz everything always seemed so perfect… I just wish my life could be like a fairytale.” Willow stopped pacing for a moment, looking sorrowfully down at the little plastic object in her hand. “I just wanted a happy ending.” She turned back to the dark haired girl on the bench behind her and screamed.
……………………

Willow shot upright, eyes wide, breath coming in gasps.

A bad dream. She thought, closing her eyes sleepily as the breeze rustled the canopy over her bed.

Canopy?

She opened her eyes again, blinking sleepily at the spectacle before her. Sapphire blue silken sheets spread out like waves around her, while ivory gauze curtains draped elegantly around the bed. She herself was clad in a long silk nightdress, her shimmering red hair tied into a waist-length braid, woven through with glistening gold ribbons.

A scraping noise from beyond the curtains grabbed her attention and she looked around wildly for some sort of weapon. The curtains drew back; she braced herself for a fight.

“Cordelia!?” she asked, astounded.

“No, Tatiana the Fairy Queen,” the dark haired girl responded sarcastically.

Willow blinked in confusion, Cordelia was dressed in a plain white, floor-length dress, a black corset laced up over the top of it. Her brown curls were pulled back away from her face and she wore simple black slippers on her feet.

“Do I have something on my face?” Cordelia’s face suddenly fell as a look of horror replaced her indignant glare. “Is it a wart? Whilst I was shopping in the village yesterday I saw a peasant with a wart. It was all gross and hairy...”

“Whilst?” Willow demanded, cutting off the other girl’s rant. “Since when do you say ‘whilst’? And… what? Peasant?”

She looked around her room in horror. The furniture was made of solid timber. Each of the posts on her four-poster bed was as thick as a tree trunk and elaborately carved with depictions of fairies and other mythical creatures. A wardrobe stood next to a solid oak dresser, each of its doors sporting a full-length mirror.

Cordelia gave her a confused glare before approaching that very wardrobe. “Your father has requested an audience with you. You must be dressed and down there as soon as possible.” She pulled open the doors, selecting an emerald green dress.

“Well?” she demanded, turning back to the confused girl. “Am I to do everything?”

”What? Huh? A spell!” Willow gestured excitedly.

“Uh… sure,” Cordelia answered, stalking over to dresser and removing a long white garment from it.

“This is all some weird sort of spell!” Willow said. “I have to find Buffy!”

Cordelia fixed her with a dark look. “That’s not funny,” she answered tartly, handing the white garment to the other girl. Willow looked down at it.

“Uh… you want me to put this on?”

“Unless you want to walk around naked.”

“With you here?”

“I’ll turn around if you prefer,” Cordelia answered, seeming frustrated.

“Very much so.” Willow glanced around. She would play along for now, find out what was going on. At least there weren’t any creepies- well, apart from Cordelia. She would find Buffy as soon as she could.

……………………

Oz blinked, looking around. His mind must have wandered off. “My prince?” His Master-at-arms looked concerned. “Are you well, my liege?”

“I’m fine,” Oz answered, shaking the uneasy feeling that something just wasn’t right. Of course something isn’t right. He told himself sternly. We’re camped on a battlefield with little food and enemy forces marching daily upon us.

But it was almost as though… as though something more had happened, as though something in the balance of the world had just shifted and he had a brief and puzzling vision of the inside of a very strange carriage, some sort of musical instrument in the back along with various items of clothing and several bags

He cleared his throat and pointed at the map. “If we take this strip of land, we can prevent the arrival of their reserves as well as cut off their supplies. Eventually they will have no choice but to surrender.”

“But that’s marshland!” one of the advisors answered, exasperated. “Fighting our way through there will be next to impossible. Our armour is far heavier than theirs, they will have the advantage the entire time!”

Oz examined the map. “These mages at Avleck bridge, they serve little purpose there, have them back here within three days.”

“And they are to do what?” An elderly mage spoke up. “One circle of mages fight a hundred men for us? It can’t be done.”

Oz answered patiently. “We can have them freeze the waterways ahead of us, thus giving us solid ground from which to base our attack.”

The generals began throwing this idea around, talking amongst themselves animatedly. Once again Oz found his mind wandering- wandering back to her.

His heart tightened painfully. He had done what had to be done but still… would he ever see her again?

………..

Cordelia stopped short outside a set of ornate double doors.

They lead to the dining hall. Willow found herself thinking. Huh? another part of her answered. Why would I know that?

She didn’t get a chance to answer herself as Cordelia pushed open the doors, falling in behind Willow and waiting.

“Enter,” she hissed as Willow paused in the doorway.

Willow walked tentatively forward and Cordelia pulled the doors shut behind her.

“Uh… Dad?” Willow asked as she approached the head of the table. “…Father,” she corrected herself, frowning.

“Take a seat.” He motioned to where a place was set; fresh bread, thickly sliced sat invitingly on a platter before her, a bowl full of fruit placed next to it.

Her stomach rumbling hungrily, she moved to pick up a peach but a harsh glare from Cordelia stopped her.

Her father- yes it was her father though very strangely clothed- folded his hands and began to speak.

“Willow, I know that by now you must have heard of the mysterious disappearances of several royal daughters throughout the land.”

Willow frowned, listening.

“I… Willow, I’m your father and quite frankly I’m worried about you.”

Sure, Willow thought. That would be a first.

“Your mother and I have spoken deeply of this and we have decided you will be safer if we send you east.

“Uh… send me east?”

“I have sent to our cousins in Travoka and they say they will be delighted to accommodate you. They are far beyond the influence of this evil plague that threatens our land.”

“There’s an evil plague?” Willow frowned, confused.

“A cult has sprung up, untraceable and unstoppable(,) their evil can still be felt seeping into our society. We fear it is these very people who are responsible for the missing princesses.” He sighed. “Alas, daughter, I have no choice. I need you not to worry about a thing. We shall deal with this evil in good time and welcome you back into our arms. Until that time we have arranged to have a carriage take you east. Your maidservant, Cordelia, and the Master of the Guard, Alexander, shall accompany you on your journey.

What are the chances that Buffy is in this ‘east’ place? Willow wondered. Somehow she doubted it. I really don’t think this is a good idea.

………………

“I really don’t think this is a good idea.”

“What’s that?” Oz looked up from his letters.

“This attack, it’s too… daring.”

“Too daring?” Oz fixed General Zickle with an incredulous look. “Battles such as this are won by such daring feats. Songs are sung of them, legends made. If we fight this the way you want to, we’ll be negotiating for the next decade while our soldiers grow old and rot on the plain.”

“I fear that this decision was too hastily made. Sire, forgive me for saying this but it seems as though there is something… something else on your mind.”

“The decision has been made,” Oz replied shortly, turning back to his letters.

Zickle paused as though to say something more. Oz looked up at him, wordlessly. The general changed his mind.

“A good night to you, Sire.” He bowed and exited the tent.

……….

“Princess, nice to see you so happy today,” a familiar voice from behind her teased. Willow turned, eyes wide. Xander stood behind her, clad in light armour, a sword in its sheath at his side, a pike in his hand.

Cordelia came walking along, a suitcase in each hand. “Alexander, guhk.” She heaved the bags into the back of the carriage.

“Cordelia, your eloquent self as usual,” Xander- weird Xander- answered. “Been spending your nights in the hayloft again?” he chirped.

They’re just the same as always. Willow thought wryly as Cordelia answered back cattily.

“Ahem.” The stable-master approached. “Milady.” He executed a quick- and seemingly forced- bow.

“Tucker,” Xander said. “Ahh, the joys of you and Cordelia for the next several weeks?”

“Actually, I’m afraid my services are required here. Unfortunately, unlike some, I can’t run away to the nice, safe lands of Travoka. My brother, in fact, will be travelling with you.”

A skinny boy carrying an equally skinny travelling bag came marching out, scruffy dirty-blonde hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. He wore on his face the same sour expression that graced his brother’s face.

Cordelia folded her arms, looking distastefully first at the carriage-driver and then at Xander before marching over to the carriage and opening the door. She looked impatiently at Willow, raising one finely shaped eyebrow expectantly. Willow sighed and stepped up into the carriage. Cordelia followed, closing the door in Xander’s face.

The door opened again and he stepped stiffly into the carriage, walking between the divider curtains and seating himself further towards the front of the carriage.

Willow’s mind was racing with possibilities. How had she got here? What was this place anyway? As she thought about it and the carriage rattled on, she began to feel tired and slowly sleep overcame her.

………..

**“Oz, don’t go.” Her pleading, tear-filled eyes looked up into his; her tiny ivory hand clutched his pleadingly.

“Princess, there’s no place for me here; my people are at war. I must return to my land
and fight.”

He released her hand, taking hold of his horses’ reins.

“How long?” she asked quietly.

He sighed before leaping into the saddle. “I don’t know.

“Don’t you love me?” she called out.

His heart wrenched. “My whole life,” he answered. “I have never loved anything else.”

He pulled lightly on the horse’s reins, pausing briefly as his heart pulled him back towards the only thing that could ever truly make him happy. However, his sense of duty prevailed and with a light kick to his horse’s side, he trotted out across the drawbridge. Urging the stallion into a gallop, he tried to leave his sorrow behind as he fled towards the sea.**

Oz sighed, pushing away the memories and running a hand through dark brown curls. What was he doing here? Did they really need him? He looked down at the parchment on his desk; a half finished sketch of the Polydian princess looked back at him.

He put down his quill and made his way to the doorway of his tent. Most of the camp was asleep; only a few soldiers sat around the fire drinking brandy and telling stories.

A tiny shape flitted across the path in front of him, disappearing into the bushes near his tent. He peered into the bushes and the creature leapt out at him. He automatically reached for his sword - the sheath was empty. He held out his hands to defend himself from the attack, only to find a dragonette clinging to his arm. It scrabbled for hold with tiny claws, wrapping its tail around his arm and flaring tiny, translucent wings for balance.

Staring directly into his eyes, the dragonette flared its nostrils and let out twin plumes of smoke before proceeding to sniff his arm furiously.

Oz looked calmly down at the small creature, one eyebrow raised. Reaching with his free hand into his pocket he pulled out a gold coin, holding it out to the dragonette. The beast sniffed at the coin, snatching it up it released his arm, soaring away into the night.

Oz watched wistfully as it disappeared into the darkness before turning and striding purposefully back into his tent. He picked up his sword. Sliding it into his sheath, he scribbled a hasty note on a piece of parchment, threw some possessions into a bag and headed out to where his stallion was tied.

Moments later the fading sound of hoof beats could be heard from the campsite as Prince Daniel Ozguard II galloped east towards the sea.