A.N. - So apparently I've gone insane. But the idea bit me, and it wouldn't let go. This story is based off of a sudden, wild realization I came to while watching "Howl" the movie about Allen Ginsberg starring James Franco, as well as Aaron Tveit as Peter Orlovsky, Ginsberg's life partner. And, being the sick, messed-up person that I am, I suddenly thought - "Oh my God. The Wizard is in bed with Fiyero!" (In case you haven't put two and two together, Tveit portrayed Fiyero in the stage show, and Franco played Oz in the recent film, "The Great and Powerful") Thus this had to happen. And I'm very sorry. So - enjoy! (I hope!)
*Throws fic and runs for bomb shelter*
He was young. That was the more startling aspect.
And yet, on contemplation, Fiyero wondered at his own surprise.
After all, the famed Wizard had ruled Oz for the past twenty-five years, at least. And he had seen the paintings – when the balloon dropped down, the man was hardly a day over seventy. Who was it to say that in all that time, the scepter had never been passed on to a son – or several?
It had begun rather suddenly, there was no way to deny that.
His father, despite the fact it had all but emptied half the family coffers, and forced them to mortgage two castles for a year, had purchased his commission to the Gale Force quite rapidly. Perhaps it was simply his manner of disposing of an essentially useless son, who had become nothing but a source of embarrassment and disappointment.
Glinda however, he had delighted in – blond, blue-eyed and playful, she had been welcomed by the population of the region with open arms, and considered the perfect candidate for "future empress consort."
A wicker rickshaw laced with gold thread and yellow diamonds had carried them to the capital city, the royal emblem of the Vinkus – three diamond-shaped sapphires surrounded by peacock feathers – sparkling in the bright sunlight and dazzling every onlooker.
And yet, with Avaric screaming commands to the sawhorse and Glinda giggling in his ear at every possible moment, Fiyero could hardly call the journey "fit for royalty."
It was easier to affect nonchalance and frivolous empty-headedness – people expected that in a spoiled prince, anyway.
At the sight of royal insignia, the Guard had thrown open the enormous emerald gates with a graceful bow, and Glinda squealed in excitement as the gold-plated wheels rattled off of mossy yellow brick and onto roads of polished malachite, smooth as glass.
Despite his rank, Fiyero had never set foot in the famed City of Emeralds, and couldn't help but be slightly amazed at the brilliance of every building, alley, and walkway. All was green marble, set thick with green gems as large as his two fists put together, and every common citizen that lined the boulevards was clothed in silks and brocades, trimmed richly with every known jewel. Indeed, the populace was so well attired that the nobles began to consider themselves somewhat less than adequate in their travelling garb, and Glinda whimpered in his ear that she felt like a waif.
So he ordered the cart to a halt, and left her at the steps of a suitably grand gown emporium. Several eager young women quickly surrounded her with bolts of silk and lace, and he concluded that the hours of dress fitting would be more than enough to occupy her mind until his return from the palace.
Ignoring the fact that he might well have just sent his future empire into bankruptcy, Fiyero carried on the short journey alone to the foot of an imposing building gated with marble and green iron. The barricade swung open to admit them, and Avaric quickly directed the sawhorse up a jeweled drive. Ffity armed soldiers lined the tower of steps leading to the palace doors, each carved from the largest emeralds found in the fairy country.
A slight blush colored his skin as the guards all raised their spears in a salute – foolish of him really. As their new captain... well...
The glittering doors swung wide, revealing an enormous barreled corridor of polished jade and carved tourmaline. His boots clacked upon the brilliant floor, seeming to echo through the bowels of the palace, and the thought sent a tremor through him.
Fear.
Strange, how the prince of every fairy story is expected to be... perfection. Handsome, dashing, courageous, without a thought other than to stand tall by his princess and keep her happy... through whatever means she insisted on.
He swallowed hard, a pale hand tightening on the enormous peridot knob at the entrance to the throne room.
Princes are human too.
The portal opened at his touch, and with a shaky breath he took his first step into the presence of the country's deified ruler.
The rumors were true.
On a golden dais stood an enormous throne, encrusted with uncountable gems, and floating just above, surrounded by flame –
"Come forward!"
The voice was like thunder, and Fiyero obeyed thoughtlessly, as if hypnotized. Emerald light bathed his skin, darkened his russet colored hair, and his every limb seemed to have been transformed to water as he knelt in a genuflection before the monarch...
"Who are you, and... why do you seek me?"
Had his nerves been less overwhelming, Fiyero might have noticed the catch within the roar, but he merely lowered his head – the collar of the velvet jacket digging viciously into the tender skin of his neck – and spoke slowly, with a keen effort to conceal his Vinkus lilt.
"Fiyero Kiamk Arjki Tiggular, crowned prince of the Vinkus, son of Marillot Koshane Arjiki Tiggular, Emperor of the Vinkus and chieftenist Chieftain of the Arjiki Clan, Lord of Kiamo Ko, foremost Nobgob of the Ozian Order of the Zee, and vassal of the Great and Powerful Oz – I... uh..."
His nerve suddenly failed him, and the well-rehearsed words died in his throat.
"Well?"
The prince bit his tongue until he could taste liquid iron, hands shaking no matter how viciously he dug his fingers into the flesh of his thigh. Damn, damn, damn... fucking it all up, just like usual – It would surprise no one, back home, and Father would just sneer as he always had –
"I – I'm – "
Suddenly the jeweled light faded from the room, the flames extinguished, and... and the huge head went limp like a broken puppet...
Footsteps rang on the emerald tiles, the kind made by shoes rather than boots...and when the whole figure emerged from behind the – the automaton, he supposed – it was rather a shock.
So yes – he was young, perhaps about twenty-five? No older than he, certainly, Fiyero hastened to assure himself. Hardly intimidating, and yet...
He was handsome too, it was undeniable. Not in the manner which the prince had always been appraised, but nonetheless striking. Dark green eyes stood out from milk-flower skin, and black curls feathered across his brow, down his neck. He was richly dressed in a suit of charcoal velvet, and at his throat was pinned a flame-colored garnet, surrounded by diamonds. Otherwise he wore not a single ornament, save for a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles, which seemed more intended for necessity rather than the current fashion.
"My my- a prince of the blue-blood kneeling at my feet – there are perks to this job."
Fiyero merely stared, confusion raging in his mind like a storm.
If this – but – then - that meant – but – if –
"Hush..." the stranger chided, a finger to his lips, and Fiyero realized with a rush of embarrassment that he'd been babbling aloud.
"Your father wrote – it seems he doubted the likelihood of your ability to ... bless, how shall I put it?... Pontificate upon your request under pressure?"
The skin beneath his collar instantly felt warm, and it was as if he had shrunk to the height of the lowliest munchkin – damn Father, damn the whole stupid -!
"It was very... telling, to say the least."
He moved closer, and for some reason Fiyero felt a tingle surge down the length of his spine – the man hadn't a single blemish anywhere about his face and neck, his hands were smooth, the fingers long and tapered...
"You're trembling..." he murmured, lifting a pale hand and uncurling the fist with little difficulty – it was as if every muscle had been liquefied... Little half-moons of blood littered the palm, where the nails had bitten into the flesh.
A fingertip dipped into one of the small wounds, and the faint tinge of pain seemed to finally force the prince to speech.
"You – you're no wizard..."
His only answer was a minute smile.
"Aren't I?" the other murmured quietly, and cupped his cheek –
Fiyero went breathless...
"Now what do you see?"
Blue eyes widened as they stared into the other set of green, every tiny hair lifting at the back of his neck, and the flush that colored his cheekbones only darkened.
"I..."
"Yes?" the other pushed gently, a soft smile gracing his lips.
"I – That's –uh – that's pretty illustrative..."
"I'm sure... What else?"
His mouth had gone dry, leaving his tongue thick and heavy against his teeth –
"I...uh... I definitely look like I'm enjoying myself..."
Green eyes flashed behind the spectacles.
"Oh yes. You would."
The hand caressing his face slid to his neck, easing away that damned collar... A thumb pressed into the hollow beneath his Adam's apple, halting his breath for a fleeting, thrilling moment...
"You will."
He cocked his head towards the throne, and – Fiyero noted hazily for the first time – a doorway curtained with green silk.
"Come."
A.N. - Thoughts thus far? Smut to come.