AN: Hello my pretties, I present to you a one-shot that I'm not sure should be considered 'dark' or not. Just a warning though, there is a bit of violence. (But I don't think it's that bad and I can't tolerate violence at all. It freaks me out.)

Enjoy!

"No don't hurt him! Please don't hurt him! Fiyero!"

The words rang in his ears repeatedly as he was carried into the cornfield, both arms forced behind one of the soldier's spears. Everything seemed to melt into a blur after that, and while his heart pounded and head spun he was thrust up onto a pole that stood isolated in the middle of the field.

It was Lieutenant Folin, the man who usually worked loyally under Fiyero's command, who looked him straight in the eye, hostile brown orbs staring into firm blue ones.

"Tell us where the witch went Captain," He demanded, his voice dangerously low. "And we can ease you down this pole, and you can have your place back on the force. Just tell us where she went."

Fiyero looked around the circle of men, his men whom had always been loyal, friendly people. He trained and traveled with them for almost two years now.

And now they were standing around him in an intimidating circle, all with menacing looks plastered on their faces. He must've known it would come to this eventually. They had always been on different sides anyway; both searching for the same person for years now, but with very different intentions once they had found her in mind.

Fiyero wasn't going to let the other side win now.

The Captain firmly set his jaw and narrowed his eyes at the lieutenant.

"I won't." he answered finally.

Folin didn't falter. He slowly took a step back and raised his rifle. Fiyero didn't even have a second to fear what would happen next before he was rammed in the gut with the rifle's end.

The prince tried his hardest to keep his expression neutral, but he was sure Folin had broken a rib.

The lieutenant gave a bitter smile. "Captain Tiggular, I will repeat this one last time; Tell us where the witch went."

Fiyero didn't give any thought to his next action, and promptly spat into the lieutenant's eye.

"Ah!" he cried angrily, cursing at Fiyero while he wiped his eye. With one quick motion to the other soldiers, all seven men were suddenly charging at him.

And everything after that went too fast for Fiyero's brain to comprehend. He felt more furious strikes to his ribs with the butt of the rifle, and eventually they were beating his arms and legs. His mind was spinning too fast to understand the words they were calling him, but could hear them yell out bitterly "Are you going to tell us now?! How about now?!"

Eventually, the pain was coming too quick for it to have a chance to actually hurt, although he couldn't hold back a cry of pain when he felt a bayonet cut through the back of his leg.

It wasn't until he was struck hard on his head when he started losing consciousness, and the world turned into a spinning blob of colors.

As his heavy eyelids drooped open and close slowly, he could make out the faces of a few men, staring at him in horror as they stumbled backwards.

"What's going on?!" one shouted.

"Whats happening to him?!'

"Monster!"

"No! It's her! He's been cursed by the witch!"

Fiyero couldn't grasp what was happening as all of his pain began to melt away. A sweet tiredness suddenly began to lull him to sleep, and his eyelids closed slowly.

He remembered his last glimpse of the world before sleep consumed him was the bright sun, setting into the western horizon.

He was alone when he woke up, obviously quite a few hours because the sun had set completely, leaving the world blackened out by the darkness of night. However the pale moon allowed you to see the outline of corn, and illuminated the bright stones of the Yellow Brick Road.

It took Fiyero a second to remember where he was, and why he was there, but he was still left completely confused. How in Oz had he survived? Or hadn't he? Was he…dead?

Looking from the moon, to tall cornstalks, to the road and back again, he tried to piece together the puzzle. After squirming a few times, to loosen himself from the pole, a strange feeling came over him. Well, it wasn't really strange, because it wasn't a feeling at all. He didn't feel…anything. He was completely numb.

Turning his head to the side, Fiyero tried to make out his hand in the moon's pale lighting. At first, he was alarmed at the fact that the hand attached to his arm didn't belong to him. It was gloved, with strange little something's sticking out of the glove by the wrist.

It didn't take long for him to realize that the other hand was identical, and that they were definitely his hands, being attached to his arm.

Fiyero furrowed his brow in further confusion, before staring at one of his hands and flexing it. It moved. It was his hand. But it had no feeling.

And slowly, the puzzle put itself together.

His hand…had straw coming out of it.

His shirt, ripped and torn from being beaten, had straw coming out of it.

His boot, although hard to see from where he was stuck on the pole, had straw coming out of it.

Now why in Oz was he made of straw?

He wasn't sure how long he mulled that question over in his brain, but eventually the sun started to rise behind him.

'What's happening to him?!' Fiyero remembered the words being screeched out by one of the Gale Force soldiers.

'It was her! He's been cursed by the witch!'

Fiyero didn't know if he had any, but a gear in his brain definitely started turning.

'It was her…It was Elphaba. Fae saved you….' He thought to himself, a grin growing on his face. He suddenly let out a chuckle.

"She saved you, you brainless fool!" he laughed.

A crow landed on his hand, and Fiyero turned towards the bird.

"Hmm…a talking scarecrow….I haven't met one since I live in Quox!" The crow exclaimed.

Fiyero took a second to process what the crow said. He was a scarecrow.

He wasn't sure how she did it, but there was no doubt Elphaba's magic was strong, and had definitely worked on him from…wherever she was now…

Fiyero ignored the bird and turned to the western sky. It was still dimly lit, for the sun wouldn't warm it until it was higher in the sky.

He was alive. Where Elphaba was, he had no clue. But he needed to get off of this pole. For all he knew, the Force had already found her, or she had surrendered herself. It didn't seem too far off if she thought he was dead…

He shook his head to clear it of any thoughts.

Before he could ask the crow to peck away whatever was keeping him tied to the pole, or attempted to squirm off himself, a cheerful looking young girl came skipping towards him.

She could get him down, and then he would find Elphaba.

AN: Please review. It's just polite:)

(Virtual witch hat to those who review)

:)