He knocked on the door, knowing better than to just walk in. Their last meeting hadn't gone well. All the same, she opened the door to him. He quickly noticed that she wasn't smiling at him. They stood in the threshold for a minute, staring at each other, still. Eventually, he broke the silence with, "It's cold out there."
She didn't smile at him, just took a step back to allow him to pass through. "I'll make some tea for you." She really didn't care so much how cold he was, but she needed something to do with her hands. The whole time she made the tea she kept her back to him. He silently sat down, watching her.
She carried two chipped mugs to him, placing them on the table and sat down across from him. "Are you angry with me?" He eventually tried.
"Why would I be angry with you?" She looked down into her lap, and didn't touch her drink. She idly let her hand graze the back of her cat's head when he brushed up against her, shedding his white fur on her black skirt.
It was idiotic of her to be doing this, and she knew it. Why was she with him? She was a terrorist, and love had never been a factor in her life. Now that the Resistance was begining to take off, now she let love distract her?
He was a prince of all things. He was married and had three small children. He had no business being with her. He shouldn't be with her. He didn't belong with her, he was someone elses. Yet she wanted him. She didn't want to loose him.
He was susposed to be just a friend of hers. He had worked his way back into her life, uninvited. Yet she didn't turn him away as she had been susposed to. She let herself enjoy him. When it began she had promised herself it would just be a physical thing. He was a way to get rid of her excessive energy. But then the stupid thing called her heart got involved. She fell in love with him.
Fiyero awkwardly took a sip of the tea letting it warm him. He had walked several blocks in the snow in an effort to see her.
For his part, he had no idea what he was doing. He had never considered adultery. From a young age he had decided love just wasn't for him. Sarima was his wife whether he loved her or not. He cared about her. He didn't want anything bad to happen to her.
But he did not want to be with her.
He didn't know what love was. He knew he and Sarima did not have it. He often wondered if he and Elphaba did. They were different in every way, but he was drawn to her and didn't know why.
Just then Malky, frustrated from the lack of attention he was recieving and from the fact that Fiyero was distracting his mistress from feeding him hopped up on the table, knocking the tea into Fiyero's lap.
She laughed then, her serious expression off of her face. Seeing her smile was enough to make the little skirmishes they had worth it.