…Don't ask, I couldn't get off this site if I tried. Why Flinda angst? Just because. And because this idea wouldn't shut up until I wrote it down.

It started how it should have ended. Perfect. Perfect in every single little tiny way. In a world of youth and happiness and wealth, where the biggest dilemma was what dress went with her hair, the handsome prince asked the beautiful girl to the party. She said yes, he was a perfect gentleman, she started planning their wedding – life really had been that simple back then.

But her life was not a fairytale, as she was soon to find out. While on the surface it had great rulers, witches, grand cities and princes when the shallow façade was cracked all was distorted. Witches, she found, had their own stories, great rulers did not always do what was best for their countries, grand cities only hid the evil inside them and princes… well princes were never quite what she'd anticipated either.

She'd loved him from the start. From before she'd realised what true love really entailed. Long before she had discovered that her love for him might ever require more from her than dinner and red roses she had fallen under his spell. It had all made sense back then, he was perfect, she was perfect, whatever could possibly go wrong?

She hadn't noticed it at first, not really, but even before her world shattered to pieces she sensed a change in him. No longer was he always attentive to her, he cancelled dates, seemed distracted when he did come, even when he hung out with their group of friends he'd pay less attention to her than she thought he should have.

Then it happened, the day where everything changed, the day her perfect world fell beneath her feet, the day that meant nothing would ever be the same again no matter how hard she tried to deny it.

She'd come back from the Emerald City that day with tears streaming down her face that she couldn't hide, no matter how hard she'd tried; shattered, devastated and oh so broken. He'd been there of course, waiting for her at the station, a bunch of poppies in his hand, one look at her and he'd enveloped her in his strong embrace. He took her back into his dorm and had held her gently as she managed to sob out all that had happened and he listened, at least for that moment, not judgemental. She had never loved him more. They'd taken comfort in each other's bodies that night, trying so desperately hard to forget.

And Lurline, how she had tried! The next morning she had got up and faced the world, acted as if nothing was wrong, faced one day after another, one step at a time, until months had passed. It was only at night, one bed in her dorm empty, her roommate's side of the room exactly as it had been the day she had left it, that she'd remember. She'd spend those nights with him, it was only the two of them now who knew the true story, only the two of them who still saw her as anything other than a wicked witch, they had to stick together, otherwise they'd go mad.

He had never coped as well as her. While she had acted the part, made out everything was as perfect as it used to be, he could not. Somehow this careless, shallow boy had changed beyond recognition, the boy who had once been the life and soul of a party was now thoughtful and quiet, haunted by the one who had left constantly.

But however painful, however unperfect, her life was it went on. Days turned to months which turned to years. Friendship and loyalty was sacrificed for a position, a chance to be loved again.

He was disgusted with her. For the first time he shouted, screamed at her, she cowered and wept. Moments later he was there, sobbing too, apologising furiously, but it didn't make any difference, his words were still etched upon her mind – 'disloyal', 'rotten', 'uncaring', 'traitor' – they hit far too close to home.

Yet, less than a week later, he was begging her for such a job too. She got it for him, of course, it took a lot of string pulling and all round pleading but she did it. She would do anything for him. She was well rewarded; she had not seen him smile like that in months, and he was without a doubt the best candidate for the position. Every day, rain or shine and every night for hours on end he'd search, the ghost of her pulling him forward more than any human could. It hurt, it hurt more than she'd like to admit, there he was with everything she had, but he was doing it for her. She, she wasn't even sure who she was doing it for anymore.

She kept him running. She knew she did, any time he slipped up she'd cover for him, she'd excuse his late appearances at the ball and explain his late night wanderings. The Wizard, Morrible, the press loved him without him even getting involved, yet nowadays he barely bothered to look at her.

Then there were the fights. That thing she'd been so terrified of the day she'd accepted the Wizard's position had become almost a daily occurrence. Their lines had become scripted, there was anger, frustration, tears on both sides, neither ever won.

He'd apologise, he always would, yet in his dreams he'd scream for another, not her. When he woke from his nightmares, she'd always be there to comfort him, but she knew his dreamy smile was not for her. It was one such night she decided she could bear it no longer, he was drifting further and further away from her, she needed him back again. Weddings made everything better right?

He made a spectacle; she'd expected that, her lines were already there to cover it up. But he'd said yes, that was what really mattered. He might have been thinking about the one they'd lost and rather reluctant to go through with it, but he was a proper gentleman he would marry her and then he'd remember that they were perfect together. They'd sort all this mess with the Wizard and live happily ever after. She hoped for that more than she'd ever care to admit.

Yet it was when she followed him and his men to the throne room she received the biggest shock. There, standing in front of her, as dominating as ever, was the Wicked Witch of the West. Her heart leapt for joy.

Or at least it did until she saw him, or more importantly his gun. His gun pointed straight at the Wizard.

Shocked and terrified at what this strange turn of events meant to them she called to him, "What are you doing?"

She watched him tense. The joy that she had been experiencing just moments ago long gone, both waiting and fearing the answer to her desperate question.

He looked at her and then looked at the girl across the room, still shocked, but his face determined.

She found herself trembling, daunted by the fact that she already thought she knew what was to happen. No! It couldn't be, surely, surely, after everything they shared, after all they said, after all she'd done for him, he wouldn't… he couldn't…

"I'm going with her."