The Wizard of Oz: Ozma/Dorothy
Author: Bitterfig
Title: Princess Tippetarius
Fandom: L. Frank Baum’s Oz series
Pairing: Dorothy/Ozma
Summary: The boy Ozma was hasn’t disappeared entirely.
Beta Reader: Nzomniac
Word Count: 962
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Cross-dressing, some sexual content.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any illegal acts taking place within that fiction are NOT condoned by the author. Depictions of any questionable, illegal, or potentially illegal activity in said fiction does not mean that I condone, promote, support, participate in, or approve of said activity. I grasp the distinction between fiction and reality and trust that readers will do the same. I do not profit from the fanfiction I write, and all rights to the characters remain firmly in the hands of their creator.
Author’s Note: Written for springkink 07/11/07 prompt #62 Wizard of Oz series, Dorothy/Ozma. Exploration. “Just because she’s innocent doesn’t mean she’s not curious.”
Princess Tippetarius
In the morning, they would be departing for many months on a tour of the Land of Oz to meet with Ozma’s many subjects and to see the kingdom’s many strange and wonderful things. Dorothy knew she would be too excited to sleep that night and so, in the purple twilight, went looking for Ozma.
“Say, Jack, have you seen Ozma around?” she asked the lanky figure of Jack Pumpkinhead as he stood in the royal garden, contemplating the cooling lavender sky or perhaps standing guard over his princess.
“My dear father is walking by the poppy fields, among the statues that can’t turn back,” Jack told her.
“Thanks so much,” Dorothy said, heading in the direction he indicated. Only when Jack was out of sight did she consider the odd way he’d spoken of Ozma. “My dear father? What could he have meant by that?” she asked herself. “That Jack can be a strange one. I wonder if we ought to get him a fresh pumpkin before we set off tomorrow.”
Many places in Oz delighted Dorothy, a few frightened her, but the garden of the statues that can’t turn back was one of the few places that made her sad. All the statues had been people once, some evil, some innocent, all placed under enchantments that had turned them to stone--enchantments that even the strongest magic in Oz hadn’t been able to break. A few Dorothy herself had known as flesh and blood, but many had stood, trapped in place for long centuries, frozen in their stony shells.
Amidst the sorry prisoners, Dorothy looked for Ozma and saw instead a young boy around her age. He was wearing knickers, a jacket and cap of purple--the color of the Gillikins, the people of the North. He did not seem to see Dorothy, for he was looking out over the poppy fields that, even in the half-light of evening, glowed red and gold as fire.
“Well, hello there,” Dorothy greeted him. “I’m Dorothy Gale. Who are you, if you don’t mind my asking? Not too many people are allowed into the royal gardens, and I don’t think I’ve seen you around the palace…”
The boy turned to Dorothy and smiled sweetly, then he drew off his cap. A cascade of dark hair flowed down around his shoulders.
“Why, Ozma!” Dorothy cried. “It’s you! That’s what Jack meant when he called you his ‘dear father’! You’re dressed like you did when you were a boy, when you were Tip. But why?”
“Before we start our new adventure tomorrow, I wanted to remember who I was,” Ozma said, taking Dorothy’s hand. “Come walk with me by the poppies, won’t you? It’s so pretty here, and still. It always makes me think to be among these statues.”
“What have you been thinking about?” Dorothy asked. “How you used to be a boy? Do you miss it?”
“I did at first,” Ozma admitted as they strolled past the statues, the sweet, sleepy scent of the poppies filling the darkening air. “It seemed like a great sacrifice to make, but I was willing to do it … for Oz and the happiness of everyone who dwelt here. I was determined to make the best of it, but the first years were hard. I had to learn to be not just a girl but a princess, and I lost something as well. I lost the easy companionship I’d had with my friends. After I changed I became precious to them, almost holy. I missed being just Tip.”
“Why, Ozma, I’d no idea. You’re so good at being a girl, it just seems to come naturally to you,” Dorothy said, sitting down on the lush grass beside the poppy field, and drew her friend down beside her. Ozma shook her head, taking Dorothy’s hands in hers.
“Before you came along, Dorothy Gale, I think I was a pretty doll. A little boy’s idea of what a nice and lovely girl ought to be. You’re the one who taught me what it really is to live as a girl.”
“Me? But I’m nothing special. I’m just a farm girl from Kansas. I’ve always wondered why you had any time for the likes of me.”
“You’re very special to me. It’s you who showed me a girl can be more than a pretty doll that gives wise advice. That a girl can be angry and sad, willful and brave, that she can get in trouble and solve problems and get lost and find her way again. Before you came to Oz, I missed the boy I’d been with all his rough ways and wants and needs, but now I don’t feel like I’ve lost him at all. I realize that Ozma and Tip aren’t different people, after all. They’re both me, and I’m both of them. Maybe they should call me Princess Tippetaris.”
She kissed Dorothy tenderly on the lips, and Dorothy held her close, stroking the contours of her body under the boy’s clothes. For a long time, they shared kisses--deep and fragrant as the night--then lay stretched out on the grass in each other’s arms.
“Oh, Ozma,” Dorothy whispered breathlessly. “This is so exciting. It feels just like Christmas Eve. Tomorrow we’re going to be going all over Oz, seeing incredible things and having adventures. Then there’s you, being with you, all the special, secret things we do together…”
“I’ve always wanted to explore Oz,” Ozma said. “But I told myself that was Tip’s dream. You made me want to explore again, Dorothy. We’ll explore Oz, just as we’ve explored being girls together. I can’t wait to see my kingdom through your eyes, the way I’ve been able to see myself. It’s going to be magical.”
Title: Princess Tippetarius
Fandom: L. Frank Baum’s Oz series
Pairing: Dorothy/Ozma
Summary: The boy Ozma was hasn’t disappeared entirely.
Beta Reader: Nzomniac
Word Count: 962
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Cross-dressing, some sexual content.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any illegal acts taking place within that fiction are NOT condoned by the author. Depictions of any questionable, illegal, or potentially illegal activity in said fiction does not mean that I condone, promote, support, participate in, or approve of said activity. I grasp the distinction between fiction and reality and trust that readers will do the same. I do not profit from the fanfiction I write, and all rights to the characters remain firmly in the hands of their creator.
Author’s Note: Written for springkink 07/11/07 prompt #62 Wizard of Oz series, Dorothy/Ozma. Exploration. “Just because she’s innocent doesn’t mean she’s not curious.”
Princess Tippetarius
In the morning, they would be departing for many months on a tour of the Land of Oz to meet with Ozma’s many subjects and to see the kingdom’s many strange and wonderful things. Dorothy knew she would be too excited to sleep that night and so, in the purple twilight, went looking for Ozma.
“Say, Jack, have you seen Ozma around?” she asked the lanky figure of Jack Pumpkinhead as he stood in the royal garden, contemplating the cooling lavender sky or perhaps standing guard over his princess.
“My dear father is walking by the poppy fields, among the statues that can’t turn back,” Jack told her.
“Thanks so much,” Dorothy said, heading in the direction he indicated. Only when Jack was out of sight did she consider the odd way he’d spoken of Ozma. “My dear father? What could he have meant by that?” she asked herself. “That Jack can be a strange one. I wonder if we ought to get him a fresh pumpkin before we set off tomorrow.”
Many places in Oz delighted Dorothy, a few frightened her, but the garden of the statues that can’t turn back was one of the few places that made her sad. All the statues had been people once, some evil, some innocent, all placed under enchantments that had turned them to stone--enchantments that even the strongest magic in Oz hadn’t been able to break. A few Dorothy herself had known as flesh and blood, but many had stood, trapped in place for long centuries, frozen in their stony shells.
Amidst the sorry prisoners, Dorothy looked for Ozma and saw instead a young boy around her age. He was wearing knickers, a jacket and cap of purple--the color of the Gillikins, the people of the North. He did not seem to see Dorothy, for he was looking out over the poppy fields that, even in the half-light of evening, glowed red and gold as fire.
“Well, hello there,” Dorothy greeted him. “I’m Dorothy Gale. Who are you, if you don’t mind my asking? Not too many people are allowed into the royal gardens, and I don’t think I’ve seen you around the palace…”
The boy turned to Dorothy and smiled sweetly, then he drew off his cap. A cascade of dark hair flowed down around his shoulders.
“Why, Ozma!” Dorothy cried. “It’s you! That’s what Jack meant when he called you his ‘dear father’! You’re dressed like you did when you were a boy, when you were Tip. But why?”
“Before we start our new adventure tomorrow, I wanted to remember who I was,” Ozma said, taking Dorothy’s hand. “Come walk with me by the poppies, won’t you? It’s so pretty here, and still. It always makes me think to be among these statues.”
“What have you been thinking about?” Dorothy asked. “How you used to be a boy? Do you miss it?”
“I did at first,” Ozma admitted as they strolled past the statues, the sweet, sleepy scent of the poppies filling the darkening air. “It seemed like a great sacrifice to make, but I was willing to do it … for Oz and the happiness of everyone who dwelt here. I was determined to make the best of it, but the first years were hard. I had to learn to be not just a girl but a princess, and I lost something as well. I lost the easy companionship I’d had with my friends. After I changed I became precious to them, almost holy. I missed being just Tip.”
“Why, Ozma, I’d no idea. You’re so good at being a girl, it just seems to come naturally to you,” Dorothy said, sitting down on the lush grass beside the poppy field, and drew her friend down beside her. Ozma shook her head, taking Dorothy’s hands in hers.
“Before you came along, Dorothy Gale, I think I was a pretty doll. A little boy’s idea of what a nice and lovely girl ought to be. You’re the one who taught me what it really is to live as a girl.”
“Me? But I’m nothing special. I’m just a farm girl from Kansas. I’ve always wondered why you had any time for the likes of me.”
“You’re very special to me. It’s you who showed me a girl can be more than a pretty doll that gives wise advice. That a girl can be angry and sad, willful and brave, that she can get in trouble and solve problems and get lost and find her way again. Before you came to Oz, I missed the boy I’d been with all his rough ways and wants and needs, but now I don’t feel like I’ve lost him at all. I realize that Ozma and Tip aren’t different people, after all. They’re both me, and I’m both of them. Maybe they should call me Princess Tippetaris.”
She kissed Dorothy tenderly on the lips, and Dorothy held her close, stroking the contours of her body under the boy’s clothes. For a long time, they shared kisses--deep and fragrant as the night--then lay stretched out on the grass in each other’s arms.
“Oh, Ozma,” Dorothy whispered breathlessly. “This is so exciting. It feels just like Christmas Eve. Tomorrow we’re going to be going all over Oz, seeing incredible things and having adventures. Then there’s you, being with you, all the special, secret things we do together…”
“I’ve always wanted to explore Oz,” Ozma said. “But I told myself that was Tip’s dream. You made me want to explore again, Dorothy. We’ll explore Oz, just as we’ve explored being girls together. I can’t wait to see my kingdom through your eyes, the way I’ve been able to see myself. It’s going to be magical.”