Oz: Ballad Of The Fallen Czar(Vol. 1)

9. 𝖀𝖕𝖔𝖓 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕾𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕿𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝕾𝖊𝖙𝖘 𝕬𝖘𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖐𝖑𝖊

Author notes; To those who are confused, the title is "Upon The Sand That Sets Asparkle"

"I think," Dorothy began, breaking the silence as they watched the sun as it slowly drifted below the horizon. In her hand was a half-bitten tart "You have such fine bakers in your town, Edward."

They walked along the shores, as the tame waves swept the edge of their bare feet. Dorothy hiked up her petticoat as she kicked the sand. Feeling the uncanny sensation between her toes.

On the other side of the beach, Jack, alongside Mary, had found themselves rather contented with building the sandcastle. Dorothy at first decided to go for a swim or entertain the children. But knowing they were safe from any harm; Dorothy knew she could never let go of the chances of being alone with Edward. He had his fingers wrapped around her mind, controlling her.

"You fascinate me," she spoke in all honesty, breaking down the last remnants of the walls that fortify her heart. Kicking out all her denial and doubts, and finally, carefully leaning against the soft hold of desire and hope. Dorothy took that moment to study the protruding beauty of his side profile.

"How so, Miss Gale?" Edward let out a chuckle, bringing his gaze to her.

The question seemed to be tethering on the edge of her tongue, yet shame and humiliation prevent her from asking the question that nestled in her heart. How are you so perfect? So wise? So caring? So beautiful?

"Your name, Edward, what is it?"

They suddenly broke to a halt, as Edward towards the girl, his piercing gaze focused on hers. Ever so sharp and cautious. Dorothy could not help but wonder, what had he seen in his adventurous life? What had he witnessed? All the pain, all the joy. All the shadows, all the lights. Everything that shaped him into the man he is today.

Her breath hitched as if her lung had been strapped by a leather belt, the moment he knelt before her. His hardened gaze upon her face, was unmoving. Lifting his finger, and slowly, yet gradually ran them on the side of her lips. The smooth touch, like satin. "You have a... spot of jam there."

Dorothy managed to take a few steps back as the burden of humiliating blush captured her body into a shiver. But Edward seemed adamant, pulling her by her hand to keep her close. Dorothy's eyes were filled with desire. Then and there, she felt as if capturing the man's lip into a kiss. To taste, to savor. She had the bitter feeling of worshipping him and being worshipped by him. The uncontrolled desire of carnal lust.

"What was your question again?" Edward inquired. His husky voice sounded slurred and mumbled, as if drunken. Perhaps, drunken by her menacing allure.

Dorothy hummed, playing it off. Though his gaze softens, welcoming. "What was your name? Unless you have something to hide?"

"Oh, but I do have something to hide," Edward retorted, perking up his eyebrows. "My identity and all... I'm a wanted man, Miss. If this secret fell to unwanted ears, it's not just my life that will be on the line, these people, this isle, will be damned."

"Don't you trust me?"

"You," he assured. Though, as if lost by some wicked charm, his fingers wandered into her hair. Pushing the strands that covered her face to rest behind her ears, before placing a comforting touch by the side of her face. Dorothy leaned in deeper. "Have done so many great things. Things that even I can't achieve. You brought honor and greatness not just to Oz, but to the rest of Nonestica"

Dorothy scoffed with an eye roll. Kicking a patch of sand toward the man. "Nonestica? I merely threw a bottle of water at that wicked witch- Look, I don't deserve as many praises."

"It might be small, or perhaps, worthless to you," He interrupted. "Your actions, you may deem mere. But it is your intention. Your heart ---That deemed you worthy. It is your bravery that captured the heart of Nonestica. You give them hope. Before your arrival, a tiny bit of freedom remains in Oz. But the moment you left, you sent revolution throughout; A rise for the nationalist, to free their people from tyrannical wrath. You are the main cause of liberation for thousands, or even, millions. Belittle your act all you want. Call yourself a no-good traveler who stumbled upon some luck. But to me, you will always be the mother of all hopes, Dorothy."

Dorothy stuttered, falling for his words. Her heart pounded as the shiver rested along her back. A surge of inspiration coursed through her brain. A warm setting within her skin. "The thought of that could only lead to disappointment."

"You can never disappoint me." This time, Edward's hold on one of her hands grew tighter. As if a gentle way to snap her back to reality and place a short halt on her stubbornness. So quickly had he learned her stubborn nature ---The fact that she was in many forms, headstrong and he knew perfectly well how to dissuade her from her point, if not, a small subset of it. "And if you're questioning my trust in you, it had always been there. Remained firm and steady. Even I couldn't trust myself as I do for you. You'll know my name, but not here, not now,"

Under the ray of the dipping sun, they stood. He rose to his height. Together, they had a moment of silence, to process the sentiments he had shared. Upon the sand that set asparkle.

Edward lowered his head as he leaned close. Dorothy felt the prominent warmth of his hard, sinewy body as they closed the space between them. His drawing breath fanned her face. The suddenness of his action had brought her to place a steady hand on his chest, covered only with the thin garment of his loose linen shirt. Though wet, covered in seawater, pressing against his skin, displaying the body crafted by the gods. Every bulge of his muscle, the eight packs of his abdomen, was clear for her to feast her eyes on. Even to the prominent v-line that dipped into his trousers. So low were his pants that she could make out the subtle trail of curls, peeking from his loose belt. With the last inch of will in her body, she refrained from pushing him to the ground, leading them into the realm of pleasure and delectation.

"You look beautiful, Dorothy," he whispered directly into her ears. "Like the first flower that bloomed in spring, the first snowflake that twirled in winter, the first leaf that fell in autumn, and the first ray that shone in summer."

Meeting his eyes again, Dorothy could see the mess of desire within. From his voice, she could make out a deep resentment, lined with repose. A convolution of feelings and sentiments. Edward felt as if he was trapped by her. Lost all the freedom to live. Under the command of the girl. But somehow, he did not mind. Somehow, he grew fond of it. He craves and covets. "What have you done to me, Dorothy Gale?"