Theodora can admit to being a little silly at times, but never really naive. Being trusting, feeling love for her sister, liking beautiful things - that is not naivety, it is simply enjoying the world she lives in. Wanting to be a Queen is also not stupid, not when Oz had given her his grandmother's music box, and kissed her under a handful of sprinkled stars. He had agreed with her even, nodded his head and repeated her statement that they belonged together.

But he was a liar.

She should have seen it the moment she introduced him to Evanora and he feasted upon her body with greedy eyes and consumed her face - her eyes, her nose, her red, red lips. And the throne; he looked at it with more lust than he had ever directed at her in the entire time they had spent together. She was suspicious initially, but he was the Wizard, and he said they belonged as one.

We danced all night long...a gift, his grandmother's music box. That wretched, wretched beast of a man! Since she was young, anger always had to be contained; one single burst of rage did more damage than a blazing fire and a rebellion. But she had torn away from her sister's ignorant gaze and sprinted to her room, sobbing awfully into her palms, letting the inescapable tears stain and disfigure her innocent face. When she had finally found courage to look at her reflection in the mirror, she saw what he had done to her.

She destroyed it. The shards flew around her, falling to the floor, and she shattered them with the bases of her boots as she stalked to the bed and sobbed scars into her cheeks. She hated him - how could she not have seen it coming?

But now she knows why. Because he is a man and her sister is a witch. Things she had always known, but never understood until now. It is in a man's nature to break hearts - how could she have been so foolish to believe that she was special? That he loved her? God, it was shaming to even remember how she had been - gushing and sweet and a damsel in distress. She hated herself for it.

And her sister was a witch, like her, and she enjoyed casting spells. And that apple certainly didn't taste right. It was only when the room around her became distorted, like the mirror shattering but a thousand times over in all colour of the spectrum, that Theodora realized the truth.

You, you! You killed our father, you started the rebellion, and you are the one killing and stealing and sinning for the throne. Before Theodora could reach over and attack her sister, she fell to the ground in pain. The transformation was agony, full of burning tears, regret, and betrayal. But when it was over - blissfully, thankfully over - Theodora looked up at her sister, and did not hate her anymore. No, she hadn't hurt her at all - just showed her how ridiculously naive she had been her whole life so far.

-Theodora-

The plan had failed miserably, and now, worst of all, Evanora had rejected and deserted her to face him all alone. Apoplectically enraged does not even begin to describe her feelings right now, but it does do justice to the sheer anger she feels. That man - can he even be described as such (maybe a pig would be more apt)? - had thwarted the only thing she desired. He had promised her she would be his Queen - he had, he had, she knew he had... Now she was nothing; now she was back to how she used to be; living in the shadows of her elder sisters - Glinda especially - and being humiliated. All. The. Time.

But what had come of her transformation? Surely being this way was better. People who wear their hearts on their sleeves - the way in which she had so shamefully done in the past - got hurt. They got hurt badly. People lost their lives because people they loved betrayed them or made them feel worthless - no one could do that to her now. Or so she had though. But when she leapt onto her clich├ęd broomstick and shot into the skies above that magical cloud projecting his belligerent face, Theodora was struck was the disabling thought that she felt hurt now. Oz, Glinda, Evanora, the people - all had abandoned her, and it hurt too much.

She is aware of the riotous nature in the city, but a sudden movement catches her eye. Someone - someone who looks suspiciously like an aged member of her family - is falling. Falling fast.

The glimpse of her awful, winked face is all she needs to identify the jumper.

For several moments, Theodora toys with the idea that Evanora is simply doing this for attention. She knows Theodora will come and save her - she knows she will most likely forgive her for running off earlier, leaving her to face that awful man alone.

But as she falls ever closer, it hits her that Evanora has lost her pendant, and lost her power. Why else would she look like she does now, unless someone else had destroyed her tremendous magical abilities? And she is ugly.

Theodora knows why she is falling - free will is the greatest lie, but Evanora chose this. She always was the most monotonously proud creature, and even though her heart is gone - and has been missing for a long time - Theodora knows her sister still feels. She is still vain, and Theodora is still naive. But she laughs darkly to herself - oh how I used to worship her, and what is she now?

A decrepit, cowardly old hag - falling from her broken rein because she can't live with being truly, monstrously, ugly.

But even though she feels nothing - nothing save the unimaginable thirst for revenge against him - a shiver forces its way down Theodora's spine as she hovers atop the kingdom, perched almost daintily on her broomstick. As her sister tumbles and crashes to the floor, Theodora knows those ages they spent together are still there, tucked away, hiding in the back of her sub conscience. And in a split second, she remembers.

She remembers Evanora being eleven, and her being five, and Evanora leading her down the garden to their little fountain and telling her if she made a wish, it would come true. She remembers being ten, and Evvy organizing her birthday party so the cake was red and the balloons were red, and even though only Tommy from the bakery turned up, he was wearing red shorts as well. Then there were her teenage years - pining after Evanora when she went on holiday with friends, kicking and screaming at her father for not letting her do the same at thirteen years old. Stealing her make-up and beautiful, beautiful dresses; trying on her shoes and letting Evvy do her hair when she got home. Growing up together meant everything - even if everything else was gone, those memories were still there. More powerful than any kind of evil.

She screams, and it echoes.

Acting without permission from her new conscience, Theodora waved her hands subtly and shot a glimmering spiral of red lightning towards Evanora's ever-moving form. Hitting right on target, tears glided down Theodora's cheeks - not daring to singe her flesh anymore - as she watched her sister transform back into the girl she used to know. For a moment, a single moment, what-is-left-of-Theodora felt a deep surge of remorse in the pit of her stomach - an unbearable sadness. Her sister, the only person she had ever truly loved, was soon to be dead. And now she was exiled, and was alone.

She looked away harshly when her dearest sister finally came to a halt. Evanora's reason to jump had been pathetic, she was a coward, she probably deserved to die, and she didn't care, but it was her sister. Theodora looked down at her broom, and, half-panicked, half-joyous, she saw her hand had returned to its former pale state. But when she looked behind her to the balcony, and saw Glinda there, staring down with - what is that? Contempt? - at the body of her magnificent sister, Theodora felt a new kind of rage.

Oh no, Theodora thought, a menacing cackle working its way from her mouth and resounding across the reclaimed kingdom of Oz, this isn't over yet.

Revenge just got a whole new definition.