A/N: My drabbles readers have been listening to my going on and on about my new found fascination with The Wizard of Oz. I guess this is more Wicked than anything, but it's a salute to it. I do occasionally write weird stuff like so, mostly because this is the nonsense in my mind. Random phases piled into a story. Anyway, the ever lovely Dresden presents…
Transformation
Splinters dug deep into his skin. Searing pain ran up his spine and exited through his tears. Every part of him burned, every inch ached. Nailed to a wooden post, flamed with pincers heated by fire. Laughing…his men, his guards were laughing. Laughing at him, laughing at his pain. He was dizzy, he was sick. Trials of sweat and blood kept wetting his lips.
Nails scratched down his back, lips pressed hard against his. Love in the form of a woman, adultery, and secrets. Hidden paradise beneath thin cloth. Her lips matched his words. Her hair was shining with fog and moonlight.
Begging left nothing but lost pride. Whipping his back, hitting him with sticks. Heavy ropes wrapped around his neck, choking him. None of this killed him. He was suffering, alive and suffering. His hands clenched harder, his nails dug deep into his skin.
His own hand led them to a secluded mist, where no one could find them. No one would hear their victory in the loss of battle. They were alone and calm. Happy, for once. They were one and they were proud.
His friends…their glares scared him. Men he knew at Shiz…they had only been boys then. Young happy boys with pimples and freckles. Now they were monsters. Brutal monsters listening only to the Wizard. With their swords and orders, they tortured him.
Lying on cool, dewed ground, his arms wrapped tightly around her, was the best feeling in his life. Her hips resting on his, her bare back glowing from the moonlight, she was beautiful. And she was all his.
Now the bright sun rose over the cornfield. A night of nothing but torture leading to a morning of nothing. He couldn't die. He screamed for death but it didn't come. No matter how hard the guards whipped, no matter how deep their swords entered his skin, it wouldn't release him. He could see the confusion on the guards face. They were trained to do this sort of thing.
Her dark eyes sparkled as they rested amongst the flowers. She matched the scenery, he thought to himself. Wonderful, in every way. Amazing, spectacular, a perfect lover. How could he have been so naive, so childish? Never judge a book by its cover.
As the harsh glow of a new day came over the hills, he found himself finding a sort of odd peace. As if his hands weren't nailed to a post and deep marks cursed his back, he smiled. It was warm; it was familiar warmth…Elphaba. But that feeling left as soon as it arrived. The hair on his arms and legs stood up and seemed to be pushed out. Needles like sensations ripped through body. It hurt him to scream. Everything seemed to be stretching and being pulled out.
"Elphaba…"He whispered to her.
"Fiyero." She whispered back.
Smiling, he kissed her nose, then her cheek. She giggled, which was odd, since she never giggled. Tonight she had shown she was truly a woman. He loved that.
When he found the nerve to open his eyes he discovered the morning, the guards were gone, and he was alone. His clothes had been ripped and shred. The thick ropes were still wrapped around his neck. A long, thick nail was rammed into his back. The more he slowly investigated himself he realized something was wrong. He just didn't know what. Through out the next few lonely days, he had come to one conclusion…
He had been turned into a scarecrow.