I've wanted to do an Elphaba/Sarima piece for a while now, but could never figure out quite how. This is the result of many re-reeadings of parts of the book and in-depth character studies and conversations with my literary circle of friends. I'm still extremely nervous about writing bookverse, as I've only read the entire novel through once and only attempted to write it a couple of times before. I hope this presents itself as satisfactory.

I've known about you
For a while now
When he leaves me
He wears a smile now
As soon as he's away from me
In your arms is where he wants to be

Something wasn't right. That much was evident to Sarima. Although she couldn't quite place her finger on it, there was something about him that indicated that something was off somewhere.

He was happy, yes. And on any other day in any other time, she would have been thrilled to see the delight in his eyes that had captivated her from girlhood. That spark was one of the things she loved most about him. It brought a vibrancy to his eyes, eyes that seemed to grow less and less lively with every passing year. To see him happy and alive was what she longed for; what she lived for. It reminded her of the man he was when they had married at such a tender age.

In the back of her mind, she wondered if he seemed perhaps a bit too happy. Oh, he would play the part of a departing husband perfectly, bidding her and the children a sincere good-bye with claims to miss them and promises of presents upon his return. She accepted his words without a second thought and believed his teasing smiles and fleeting kisses, taking them as a small sign of his devotion to her.

What a fool she had been.

She hadn't wanted to believe the rumors that were circulating through out the castle. There could never be another. Her husband was many things, but unfaithful was not one of them. She would catch her sisters whispering amongst themselves from time to time, voicing their doubts and attempting to formulate the identity of this mysterious woman. For a while, she was quick to deny their accusations. It wasn't possible. It simply couldn't be.

But it was. Deep down, she knew she was not the only woman in her husband's life. If the improvement of his mood was not clue enough, then the duration of his trips to the Emerald City told her all she needed to know. He hid it as well as he could, but masquerades were not his specialty. Not by any means. She had been angry. She had every right to be. What was this woman giving him that she couldn't. Was it a love from his past? As far as she could recall, he had never even looked at another woman with more than a passing glance. What made this woman special? Why now?

She knew that her husband did not love her; she was not naive enough to believe he did. But he did care. They had built a life and a family together. How could he not? She knew he tried and it was not his fault that their marriage had taken place. But there was one thing that he would never understand. He would never understand something that she lived with every day; something that she could not control. Their marriage had began in her mind the same way it had begun in his: as a strategic alliance between two of the oldest families in the Vinkus. She had never meant to fall in love with him.

At first she had been tempted to confront him, but ultimately decided against it. If he husband felt the need to live a fantasy, then so be it. As long as she was not forced to acknowledge it in any way, she could plead ignorance and live her life in peace.

And in her mind, that was the safest path to travel.

But when he's with me
He says he needs me
And that he wants me
That he believes in me

He had no right to be here. She had told him this time and time again, and yet he still returned. Unless told otherwise, he would be at her apartment at the corn exchange every evening at dusk. At first, she had tried to turn him away. She was not someone who could afford to have this sort of relationship. She was meant to be a vehicle of terror to those who oppressed the innocent and terrorists, no matter how just the cause, had no right to experience something so wonderful.

He was wonderful. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine she would be someone that he would even care to pass time with. He had worn down her resistance with only a few well placed words and kisses, and in a short time, turned her world completely on it's side. It was as if they had known each other for a lifetime and in a way, they had. True, they had been friends in their school days, but then she had simply been a sardonic social outcast and he had been a prince of noble blood, married at an early age to a child bride.

It was frighteningly easy for her to forget he was married. In his arms, it was simple to forget anything. With something as simple as a brush of lips or a well placed smile, he could render her nearly helpless, held to conscience thought only by her careful repression of his touch. Even in moments of nothing but the most wondrous sensations of ecstasy, even as she was wrapped around him, crying out his name on a rapturous wing, unbidden thoughts of his wife and family invaded her thoughts.

For the first time in her life, she envied.

Surely this woman, whoever she was, knew what a treasure she possessed in him. Any woman would be lucky to have him. In those rare, fleeting moments, when she allowed herself to imagine living as his wife, bearing his children and sharing in his dreams, she would remember that these were things that he already had.

Things that she was not needed for.

She had never meant to fall in love with him. She had been content to love him quietly and distantly all of her life. Why couldn't that have been enough? And it was.

Until he had found her in the chapel.

He did his best to assure her of his love. She knew that he enjoyed her company, knew that he wanted her, and deep down, she knew that he did care deeply for her. She would share stories of her work in the Resistance and he would listen with rapt attention. For the first time in her life, someone wanted her, needed her, loved her.

But he did not belong to her. She often wondered if he truely loved his wife. He loved his children; that much was obvious to her from the start. If he loved his children, he must at least care for their mother. She knew that this was wrong and that she should feel ashamed by her actions. But when he held her tightly in his arms, when he whispered her name into the darkness before he drifted off to sleep. When he loved her with such passion that it nearly brought tears to her eyes and spoke to her in quiet tones about his secret hopes, dreams, and desires. These were the moments that she lived for and these were the moments in which she knew she had nothing more to gain.

And yet, so much to lose.