Hello! Fist of all - sorry that you have to wait so long for an update of "The Night Should Be Feared". Life was stressfull these last weeks, with uni and work. But christmas is finally here *g* So, I hope that I'll enough time to continue my story. But now to this one. It's a little christmas-present for you all (even if it's a bit dark). This is acutally my first one-shot - yippie! The story is called "Hunting For Witches" after the eponymous song (that I love). I don't know if it's any good, but it's an idea that was constantly in the back of my mind. During writing the first chapter of "The Night..." I originally wanted to give Fiyero a bigger role in the hunt for Elphaba. I always found it interesting that he had to hunt her. So this is my attempt of capturing Fiyero's feelings and thoughts at the beginning of his "hunter career". You don't have to read "The Night..." in order to follow the story, because this one is kind of a prequel. Enjoy and if you want - review! It always makes my day to hear from you :))
I wish you and your loved ones merry christmas and lots of love. Enjoy the holidays! 3 Dani
Title: Hunting For Witches
Rated: T
Beta: The one and only crazybeagle!
Copyright: I don't own "Wicked" or any related characters. The lyrics of the song "Hunting For Witches" belong to Bloc Party.
Hunting For Witches
By girlscout1987
***I'm sitting on the roof of my house
With a shotgun and a six pack of beer***
Fiyero Tiggular drowned his ninth cup of dark Vinkan beer. Strong and bitter…much like was a black night, the sky covered by a smoke screen. The citizens of Oz had once again lit their torches in search of the Wicked Witch. Now they were wandering through the streets.
Because of her.
Everything was because of her. He glanced at the rifle next to him, leaning against the brick wall. Onnights like these, he preferred to hide himself up on the roof of the Palace. The view was breathtaking, a place made for swooning and love serenades. He was only the reason for the first and avoided the second. He just took another gulp and enjoyed the bitterness that engulfed his body for a short moment.
***The newscaster say's "the enemy is among us!"***
It was a game the Wizard liked to play. Supported by Madame Morrible, andexecuted by his lovely girlfriend.
"The Enemy is among us! Hunt her! Find her! Kill her!" Glinda had cried, her melodic voice filling the air.
Shouting. Cheering. Jubilation.
They loved the naïve one. "Glinda the Good is the bestest of the best."
They hated the wrong one. "The Wicked Witch will be the downfall of our Oz."
They adored the evil one. "The Wonderful Wizard of Oz will rescue us all."
And he himselfwas just watching. Observing. Trying to protect both girls he cared for…"Protect", because "love" wasn't in his vocabulary. He didn't love Glinda. He never had. He had desired her body. He had found her naivety charming. But, like all of them, he would have used her and left her.
No illusions. No restrictions. No commitment.
Well, he had used her…
Honey blondelocks on his pillow. Polished nails boring into his lower back. Snow-white skin entangled in blood red sheets.
It was just the leaving that was the problem. He couldn't, because something had changed within him. Some strange sense of duty was consuming him. Rescuing Glinda from her own downfall? Fiyero shook his head, his dark locks a mess. He dismissed that thought, attributing it to his "chivalrous" upbringing as a prince.
***Kill that middle class indecision***
Watching the lights from the torches dancing beneath him, Fiyero cursed under his breath andkicked one of the bottles from the roof. Maybe it would crash down onto some fool's head. He hoped it would…If one of these buffoons was knocked senseless, it would be all the better for mankind in his eyes…and hopefully just a bit safer for Elphaba.
Elphaba…Elphaba was a different matter. He had wasted hours thinking about her.
Analyzing. Understanding. Dissecting.
But it was all for nothing. She was like thin air. Only a soft breeze whenever he tried to touch her. Always fleeing…always escaping….always tormenting him. And the picture he had of her – pure, ethereal, strong minded – wasn't that just an illusion? Something he wanted to believe in, for the first time in his shallow life? Or was she merelyanother lie he was losing himself in?
Elphaba was nothing. A nothing. He hadn't desired her. He hadn't wanted her body beneath his. His lips on hers. No longing to be connected with her.
"Fifi, darling, there you are. They are waiting for you."
"What?"
"That's 'Beg your pardon,' mister." Glinda was silent for a moment, glancing at the many empty bottles. "Are you drunk again?"
Fiyero ignored the following accusations, thinking about the hours they had spent together last night. Hours, and yet he'd felt nothing. That worried him. What an unintentional change in his behavior. During all of his sexual endeavors - and there had been quite a few - he had felt something.
Satisfaction. Disappointment. Stimulus. Boredom. Curiosity. Savagery. Lust
This hollow ache in his chest was new, and even if he wasn't the brightest, he knew what his body was trying to tell him. He missed Elphaba. He wanted her back in his life. And as his mind began to explore a path it never should have entered, his temperament in bed began to change accordingly. Green replaced white. Blonde hair changed to raven. A lush body transformed beneath his hands into a lithe form.
Gasping. Arching. Giggling. "That was…whoo…extremely fabulous. I never knew you could be such an animal in bed." Purring. Begging. And a second round.
And now he was consumed by images of her…Elphaba Thropp. How obnoxious of him.
***Now is not the time for liberal thought
So I go hunting for witches
Heads are going to roll***
He kissed the blonde girl in front on him hard on the lips, ignoring her protest. Minutes later, he was running down the streets, along the river, gun in were people around him. Grabbing his uniform. Squealing delighted. Commending and praising him on the back.
"The new hope of Oz."
How handsome.
How charming.
How perfect.
He ignored them all, hating them for their ignorance. Despising them, because they had affected him deeply. With all their shallow talking and praise, they had transformed Glinda into a self-absorbed marionette, they'd made Elphaba a living target, and they'd ripped him apart.
He raced across the small bridge and didn't stop until he was at the old oak. Sinking down on his knees, Fiyero pressed his face to his palms and sucked in an unsteady breath. He wanted to scream his frustration to the world, but he knew he could not. He could just kneel there, unable to move.
The time of youthful ignorance was long gone. And with it, his confidantes.
***So I go hunting
1990's, optimistic as a teen***
Damn, he was just twenty years old. Twenty years. How should he know if there was even a right path to choose? He hadn't even been able to finish university on his own. His father had to help him with a – not so small – donation for the new wing at Shiz.
A triumphant scream tore him from his thoughts, slicing through the cool air.
"I've killed a Bear. A Bear!"
Night after night he heard their voices, bragging about killing poor beings. And it was entirely his fault. Another night to hunt for the Witch...his idea. His stupid idea, to gain the Wizard's trust.
A bloody sacrifice for Elphaba.
"Regular chase nights. What an outstanding idea Master Tiggular. I ought to remember your name."
He'd sinned too many times. Wantonness. Haughtiness. Wrath. Surely his soul would end up in hell for that. That would be his personal oblation, his one last shot at redemption - to keep Elphaba safe. To keep the chance alive that one day – in the far-off future – they could meet again. And he could try to be the man that he wanted to be, that he needed to be.
***All reasonable thought is being drowned out
By the non-stop baying, baying for blood***
Fiyero glanced around. Nothing was here. Nobody could see the bloody earth he was kneeling on. Releasing a breath he didn't realize he was holding, Fiyero let out a frustrated scream. Everything had gone wrong. Everything. His life should have been easy. So damn easy.
An effusive amount of money. He had achieved that one.
A never-ending line of women. He had lost interest.
A secure position in the Vinkus. He had relinquished.
Closing his eyes, Fiyero tried to ignore the pain in his chest whenever her face appeared in his subconscious.
"Tell me, Master Fiyero. Do you believe that people are born wicked?' Elphaba sat cross-legged on her bed, a shockingly thick book pressed against her chest, when she asked him this question out of the blue. He just wanted to wait for Galinda. Damn woman needed so long in the bathroom...
"I've never thought about that," he answered truthfully.
She smiled a small smile and Fiyero had to confess that she looked quite cute…in her own way.
"I figured."
Her insult hurt his ego and for the first time in years it suddenly mattered what a person thought of him. Who was this green girl anyway, that she judged him? There was more to him than frivolity.
"In the Vinkus we believe that once a child is born, its soul has to decide whether it wants to choose the path of light or the path of darkness."
Her eyes flashed and Fiyero noticed that they weren't really black, but a dark brown, like mahogany in the afternoon sun. "Sounds like something my father would say." Their gazes locked. "But what do youthink?"
He really thought about her question. And somehow it didn't matter anymore that he and Glinda would miss their dinner reservation. "I think…that we all have our choices throughout life. But sometimes the outer circumstances are…pushing us into something we don't want."
"I have to say that I'm impressed Master Fiyero."
"Just Fiyero."
She bit her lip. His eyes followed the movement.
"Well, we'll see."
***I was an ordinary man with ordinary desire
There must be accountability
Disparate and misinformed
Fear keeps us all in place***
Placing his hands on the ground, Fiyero dug his fingers into the fresh earth beneath him.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, pain slicing through his heart. Another scar. Another victim. Another dead Animal. His first kill in front of the other soldiers. Taking the old and simple bouquet of flowers from the grave, he tossed it to the aside. No tears would come. He was too old for that now. Fiyero slumped forward on his knees, his folded hands pressed against his mouth as he stared at the grave deep in his own thoughts.
The raw fear in the Fox' black eyes, as it cowered away from him.
Hissing…
…Begging…
…Silence.
And the dull ache in his chest when the bloody knife fell from his hands.
He'd killed his childish innocence.
He'd changed.
...But not for the better.
Fiyero wouldn't remember later how much time he'd spent on the moist earth, but it didn't matter.
When the sun began its slow ascent and the revelry had died down, he stood up. Making his way to the small pond, Fiyero Tiggular looked at his own reflection in the clear water. The dark green of his new uniform was a striking contrast to his pale blue eyes. The golden badge, signifying for the highest rank within the Gale Force.
He had made it.
He was now officially the Captain of the Gale Force.
He would rescue her.
No matter the cost.
The End