I awoke very, very slowly.
The sun was up; warm, buttery gold rays beating down onto my bare back. My eyes felt heavier than they'd ever been in my life before. Like the whole world was pressing down on them. The rest of my body felt strange, too. Limp. Almost jelly-like. One particular place…faintly sore…
I blinked.
The world was slanted, tilted sideways around me in the oddest of ways – I couldn't even remember where I'd fallen asleep last night. Where was I…?
I blinked again, and made as it to turn over – then found I couldn't, as every part of me appeared to be swaddled, wrapped tight, in layer upon layer of a bizarre array of clothing.
What in Oz's name.
I stared down at myself in bewilderment. There was my cloak, for one thing, spread over me like a blanket. My dress – inside out – the skirt tucked over and under my bare feet, protecting them from the freezing, frosted forest ground around me. Then there were my – cursed Oz – under garments, tucked again close to my feet, along with – oh sweet and mercifulOz – someone else's. And then there was the pair of black trousers, clumsily folded under my head, to act as a pillow. And the shirt, and dark green jacket, trimmed with gold and emblazoned with the sign of the Gale Force, underneath me…
…covering the man I lay half-sprawled around, coiled against his side; limbs intertwined tight as possible, frost matted in his chocolate brown hair, familiar face smooth, beautiful…so beautiful…expressionless in sleep.
A smile so wide it was almost painful spread slowly, deliciously over my face.
No, the faint, dull soreness between my legs most definitely didn't matter. If anything, I was glad of it. It was a reminder. The key to so many memories. The proof…the only proof…that what had taken place last night was more than just a far away mush of dreams, of lips and hands and warmth and sweat and moaned names and tangled limbs and…
…Oz, just thinking about it…
That had been real. That had …we…me…Fiyero…this beautiful, velvet-voiced, irresistible man, this prince, this Captain of the Gale Force…
I smothered a soft cackle, at that. Captain. Of course. Captain of the wizard's personal guard, renowned hunter of the wicked witch, loyal servant of the Emerald City – if only they could see him now. I felt almost giddy with glee at the thought. That would show them. Show them all.
Yes, if only they could see him now, see us both; the wicked witch of the west and the handsome Gale Force prince, coiled together on the forest floor, fresh from their hours of love-making, green against white. Oh sweet Oz, it sounded so wrong. Wonderful, yes, but wrong. So messed up, so sick, twisted, evil…wicked…
Wicked…
There was strange new meaning to that word for me, now.
And it felt odd, too, to consider last night and know I was no longer a…to know that I had…well. It was too much to take in, too much to comprehend. It made me feel suddenly much, much too old. A child fumbling in a woman's body. Everything gone too fast, stolen away, the deepest, darkest, most secret part of myself gone, taken – no, I told myself, not taken. Given. Given all too willingly.
And I considered, again, who exactly I had given it all to. The man who had that particular claim to me, now. The prince. The 'captain'.
My Captain.
The smile stretched ridiculously wide upon my lips at that thought.
I propped myself up on my elbows, surveying the bright morning sight around me more closely. The crisp green clearing looked just the same as it had last night – a little more welcoming, perhaps, with the sunlight melting over it all; a carpet of thick green grass I hadn't been able to make out in the dark of the previous evening. It was also windy – very windy – the leaves whirling around me, the trees rustling restlessly, my hair rippling up behind me in the breeze. A little way off across the clearing from me sat our footwear – my sturdy old boots alongside Fiyero's shiny, polished black ones. And beyond that…
"Broomstick!" I whispered in surprise, careful not to wake Fiyero, but unable to stop myself from exclaiming – I had completely forgotten about my wooden friend. He stood half-hidden behind an oak tree, handle just peeping round – almost as though he had been there all along, spying on us. I felt a frown crease my features at the thought.
"Come here," I whispered softly to him, beckoning. "Just quietly, now, he's…Fiyero's…still asleep."
Broomstick didn't move – just bowed his handle slightly, lower than was natural, narrowing in on himself – almost like a human person would normally narrow their eyes. My frown deepened, warmth dusting my cheeks as I realised, with a jolt, that of course I was still naked.
Of course, he was just a cleaning utensil, and I'd changed in front of him Oz-knew how many times before, but this…this was more than a little different…
Broomstick started to tremble, shaking oddly, almost comically from top to bottom…and I was suddenly certain that if he had been able to speak, he would have been shrieking with laughter.
"Stop that!" I hissed angrily, cheeks flushing, but he ignored me, skipping out from behind the tree to dance tauntingly over the clothes and underwear now spread around me, sticks bristling with delight.
"Stop!" I hissed for the second time, scrambling away from Fiyero's side, clutching his green-gold jacket around me in a feeble attempt to keep off the cold wind, and making a grab for the stupid object's handle. "You stop it right now, you hear?! Honestly, you're a broomstick,for Oz's sake, what would you know about – stop it!"
But it was no use. Of course, he had to stop, to some extent, as my hands closed around his wood, forcing him into stillness – but he still trembled in my arms with suppressed laughter, bristles crackling together to create a sound uncannily like my own cackle.
"Oh, very funny," I muttered sarcastically. "You know, I sincerely hope you weren't watching last night, peeping-tom of a broomstick that you are!"
Broomstick shook himself swiftly from side to side several times, an obvious 'no' – before reaching out two long twigs from his bristles and pressing them to my ears, then his own mid-handle – the spot where he himself would have had ears, had he been human.
Then he burst into crackling laughter again.
I threw him away from me so furiously he flew halfway across the clearing before crashing to a halt a few feet from the two pairs of boots.
"Don't be ridiculous."
He ignored me, still sniggering as he hopped knowingly away into his corner behind the oak tree, taking care to flip a few torn items of clothing – and undergarments – across towards me. I caught them reflexively; before dropping them quickly, realising they weren't mine.
Oh Oz…
"Stupid, nosy, peeping, interfering Broomstick!" I shouted, to the silence of the clearing.
*
An answering moan, muffled with sleep, sounded from somewhere to the right of me.
I whipped round in horror, hands clapping over my own mouth – Oz-damnit, I'd completely forgotten about him – to see Fiyero stirring, hands rubbing at his eyes to clear them of sleep, blinking blearily up at me.
To my surprise…and silly, private little squirm of delight…a slow smile spread sleepily over his face.
"Why can't I wake up to this every morning?" he murmured, tone thick with sleep, though his eyes were wide awake as they travelled up and down my body, clad in his heavy Gale Force jacket. I felt the hugest, goofiest smile slide stupidly onto my face.
"Every morning?" I questioned dryly, as his eyes met mine again. "What – the wicked witch of the west bearing down on you? I wasn't joking last night, you know, that is what they call me these days…"
"It suits you," he grinned, and then held out his arms. I didn't think twice; I was across the clearing and down in his waiting arms within the next second, bending to meet his kiss. His lips were warm and oddly dry, almost papery from sleep – but just as sweet, as delicious as my memories of last night, crushing against mine over and over and over…
"I love you," he murmured upon drawing back, as casually as though he were simply commenting on the weather. I gazed down at him wordlessly, shaking my head from side to side in wonder – who would have thought it, two years ago, that I would end up here, now, wrapped in his arms, in Fiyero's arms? This pampered, preened, perfect prince who had driven me just about insane back at Shiz, infuriated me beyond belief, right from day one, practically run me over with his stupid, flashy Winkie-carriage…
"Elphaba? What are you thinking?" said prince's voice drifted again to me through my flurry of disconnected thoughts. His fingers twined a little tighter around mine, squeezing them with the lightest of pressure, the deep lapis-lazuli blue of his eyes still gentle and open as they gazed at me. "Tell me. Please. Don't think I've ever seen Miss Thropp go so long without talking. I'm going to start getting seriously worried if she doesn't start interrupting me left-right-and-centre again anytime soon."
He grinned widely, obnoxiously, whilst I glared at him.
"It's nothing youneed to overwork your poor brains over, Captain," I retorted by way of my own gripe, injecting a lace of sarcasm – and then eyed him sceptically whilst he laughed, wondering whether he'd even remember his first day at university all these years later. "Just…Shiz. And carriages. Pushy, flashy, Winkie carriages – something you would know all about, I'm sure."
I grinned then, unable to stop myself; a flash of a smile that was both strange and wonderful to feel as it danced across my face. "And thoroughly incompetent drivers. One, in particular."
In truth, I really hadn't expected him to remember – or secretly hoped he wouldn't – but he did. His face lit in a smile brighter and more beautiful than I knew mine could ever be.
"How could I forget?" He caught a handful of my tangled mop of hair, mussing it deliberately – I batted him away, scowling. "I swear by Oz, my poor carriage still bares some truly spectacular battle scars from a certain tantrum-throwing schoolgirl's attack upon it all those years ago –"
"Don't you start exaggerating, now -!"
"- Aw, come on, even you've got to admit you lost it a bit with poor Avaric –"
" - I did not -!"
"- You scared the living daylights out of him!" he declared, laughing now, long and loud, wonderful to listen to. "Honestly, Elphie, you should have seen his face –"
"Don't call me that," I snapped, not angrily – but firmly, this time. The nickname had been bad enough last night, but now, after all that had happened between us, combined with the memory of the person behind it, the certain golden-haired roommate who had created it…
No. This had to stop, now. I couldn't deal with it anymore, not now, not after…everything.
Fiyero was frowning.
"Call you what -?"
"You know what, Fiyero, Elphie!"
The words came out sharper than I'd meant them to be. I bit my lip, wishing I could take them back – but he didn't flinch, only frowned a little; an unusual expression to grace his features.
"Why didn't you say anything about it last night?" he murmured, genuine question in his voice…but there was a grin playing at the edges of his lips as he spoke the words. His gaze was suddenly just a bit too intent, a bit too knowing. I glowered, looking quickly at my hands; thin, sludge-green fingers splayed across his flawless bare chest.
"I had other things on my mind last night – you should know," I grinned widely, obnoxiously again – begging for a punch in the face to fill the impossibly loud silence…
And then suddenly, we were kissing again. Kissing like our lives depended on it, like we had seconds left before being parted forever; no more papery good-morning kisses, but hard and fast, deep and hungry, struggling to taste as much of him as I could in as little time as possible. Because I knew, deep down, how little time we had left, now. We couldn't lie here, exchanging Shiz memories, curled in each other's arms forever – though sweet Oz, that was a tempting thought – there was things to be sorted, plans to be formed, decisions to be made…
After all, I was the so-called wicked witch of the west…
The thought made me crush myself even tighter against him – and he responded almost as though he had read the thoughts in my mind. We clung to each other, one of my hands flat against his bare back, warm despite the chilly morning weather, the other tight around his neck, whilst his roamed my body. But when one wandering hand began to grasp just a little too low, I reached to stop him – fingers twining with his as I pulled away, pushing him back onto the frosted ground.
"Hey," he groaned quietly, in disappointment.
"If we start now," I murmured, pushing him away from me as firmly as I could – though every part of my body was already crying out for more, more, more, "who knows when we'll stop? Honestly, didn't last night teach you anything?"
"Yes," he groaned, "oh Oz, yes, the best lessons ever. I'm telling you, if they'd taught me the things I learnt last night at all those posh old schools and universities, I'd never have got kicked out of a single one of them!"
I snorted into laughter – twice in one morning, what was wrong with me? – my hated cackling mingling with his low chuckles as he kissed me ardently, no longer hard and driven; pure, open-mouthed, loving…adoring…
"Let's stay here," he breathed against my lips. "Just the two of us. These woods are mega-dangerous, for my men, at least – they'd never set foot in here if you offered them all the emeralds in Glikkus, I swear."
"Stop it," I murmured, unable to let myself think of it, let the wonderful, terrible temptation have time to penetrate my thoughts.
"But just thinkof it," he breathed, lips nestling the much-too-sensitive skin of my neck, and I did, I did, his words painting the pictures for me, papering them across the walls of my mind. "Just the two of us, just you and me, tucked away from the world, our own life, safe, together forever."
Forever with Fiyero, alone in our moonlit glade, forever and ever…
Oz, I couldn't imagine anything more wonderful. More…beyond any happiness I ever could have fathomed for myself.
And more impossible.
I shook my head, near-desperate now, struggling to shatter the fantasy. "No. No, Fiyero, we've got to stop this, you've got to stop this, we've got to think realistically here…"
"I think a few days hidden away in these woods is perfectly realistic!" he laughed, teasing that oh-so-sensitive point upon my neck again – cursed Oz, he knew it was a weak spot. "Just a few days won't hurt anyone, Elphaba, you know that –"
"I would never –!"
"Shh," he soothed, laying me back on the frosted ground, and I felt him smile against my lips as I arched automatically against him. "It's going to be fine, I promise. I love you…"
"Fiyero," I sighed in half-pity, half-exasperation at his optimistic tone – he just didn't get it, didn't understand – he had no idea what he'd got himself into, the silly, hopeful, childish, brainless, naïve fool…
…fool…
…fool…
…but then…
…then…
…through his softly murmured words, the warm kisses against my throat, the sounds and sights and feel of nothing but Fiyero, Fiyero, Fiyero…
…a different sound. A humming, throbbing sort of noise, very far off, rising in pitch, in volume as it drifted closer and closer…
What was it?
The thought was faint, vague, barely present in my blissful, Fiyero-muddled mind…but it nagged. Tugged. Drew my attention towards it – and suddenly I was pushing him away again, and my eyes were open, eyebrows knitting together, creasing my features in a frown as it grew louder, louder, and rose, rose in pitch; a cry, less than a hum, like that of an Animal, or even a child…a familiar child…
"Elphaba?"
"Shh," I hissed, holding up a finger – and for the first time, he didn't try to argue with me, ceasing even in his kisses…he seemed to sense there was something wrong.
There was something wrong. Something very wrong. I didn't like it – the noise was much too loud now, a definite familiar child's cry, muffled and echoing, but still very much present. The wind whistled around us both, throwing my hair up into a banshee's halo over my face; it was definitely picking up, faster and angrier, making the trees bend and groan in protest around us…
Broomstick shot out suddenly from his oak tree hiding place, making Fiyero yelp in surprise – he darted into my arms, quivering fit to burst, bristles scratching my bare legs painfully as he scrabbled close as he could get to me – "It's all right," I murmured soothingly, holding him close, but it wasn't, it wasn't all right, and the wind was much, much too strong, blowing itself out of control…
…and thatcrying child still sounded on…
"Elphaba…?"
"Listen to it," I murmured, half to myself, half to Fiyero, who was watching me with concern etched across his features – Broomstick creaked and shuddered in my arms, and I stoked a few of his twigs comfortingly. "Listen. Who is it?"
He shook his head, bewildered. "I can't hear anyone. You sure it's not just the wind? Got to say, it's really picked up since last night – Elphaba, maybe we should think about moving somewhere more sheltered…"
"Shh!" I hissed, clapping a hand to his mouth.
"Mf-Elph-mf-ba –"
"Shut up, for Oz's sake!"
He shut up.
I scrambled up, then, clambering off him to stand – he groaned quietly in disappointment – Broomstick still clutched in my arms, my face turned up to the source of the noise. If I hadn't known better, I would have said it was coming almost from…the sky…?
And then the wind changed; sped, whirled into life, as though someone had let it loose from a cage, icy-cold as it clawed at me, making Broomstick bristle frantically; and far, far, far away in the endless misty sapphire blue of the early morning sky…something span and tumbled into sight.
I stifled a scream.
"Elphaba!" Fiyero's voice drifted to me, a cry of fear, and he was suddenly beside me, hands catching my shoulders, gazing wildly up at the point in sky I stared at, open-mouthed, jaw dropped, eyes wide with incredulity, with the impossibility of what I was seeing…
…what I couldn't be seeing…
…it was a…
…but it couldn't be a…
…but it was…
…it was…
…a house….