The last thing Fiyero expected to remember from the library that night, was the odd feeling in his stomach as he held Elphaba in his arms. The pull between their bodies seemed magnetic, and otherworldly.
A feeling that Galinda lacked. When they met up secretly, Fiyero kissed Galinda more desperately, searching her for satisfaction.
But at night, he could not ignore the longing for the smell of Elphaba. A pleasant smell. Not floral and sharp, like the scent that bubbled from Galinda, but a very human smell. And a slight hint of poppy leaves. The felt the kiss linger, eat at the back of his mind.
Until he could take it no more.
Fiyero found himself working overtime, earning the respects of Frexpar. One day, his master approached him, wearing his velveteen robes, his wide grin and transparent skin glowing in a false manner. Fiyero resisted gagging.
"Young man. Uh, Pharaoh, is it?"
Fiyero winced, fists tightened. However, he knew his place and dared not correct his master. For this he had been beaten: an action Frex did not do often.
"I will be hosting a ball tonight. And I wish to show off my fine staff. You, and that..."He trailed off, stirring the air for his loss of words with a single paper skinned finger. Frex finally tasted his words. "That Glinda girl should appoint to Madame Greer immediately for suiting. Casual wear is inappropriate, and I expect nothing but the best behavior from both of you." Fiyero gritted his teeth, and waited for dismissal.
The day passed in a blur of softer fabrics than Fiyero had ever felt back home, in a flourish of color and in a buzz of frantic preparation. Finally the illusive sky settled down and the bastard sun bowed his head.
The guests came two by two. Fiyero took coats, stood straight in his starched suit, mumbling "Yes ma'am"s and "Yes sir"s dully. He was intrigued by the people, those rich souls who ate well and had milky skin thin as tissue. They danced lightly, gostllike on brittle bones. They were thing with large orblike eyes. Their flesh so transparent they sometimes appeared as a jostling mass of bones.
Gallinda giggled girlishly to Fiyero about the strange people. She whined about the drab black staff dress, flirting with the high-classed guests. Frankly, it disgusted him. Eventually Galinda began to mingle with the guests, earning stern looks from Frexspar. But the guests had taken such a liking to Galinda and her exotic white tint, that he didn't mind showing off his rare pet. Fiyero scoffed, accidentally spilling Champagne on an unsuspecting guest.
"Sir." The guest snapped. Fiyero stumbled an apology, picking up the glass. He found himself at the feet of a woman dressed in a strict black dress.
"My what a pet you've become" The young lady sneered familiarly. Fiyero cocked his head, staring into the woman's dark eyes. They were cold, framed by translucent skin. But her eyes were not large and watery like the other people from the Uncrossible Sands. They were smaller, runeslike. Intelligent, like a hawk's, perhaps.
"Quit staring at me, it's not polite" Her voice rapped. Her hair was pin straight, and pulled back in a tight braid. Fiyero gnawed on his lip silently, searching for where he had seen this woman.
"It's a pity you're so docile. I liked your untamed will. Now you're just another scum sucking slave, aren't you?"
Fiyero's blood boiled.
The woman sneered.
Frex launched himself into the conversation. "Elphaba! What a pleasure you could join us" He grinned falsely, his hand brushing her pale face. "How darling you look, my dear" His voice syrupy. Guests twirled to the music emanating from the violinists. Tension hung in the air, a tangible shroud. Chatter and giggles floated to the grand ceiling. Fiyero blinked blankly. He swore he had seen that hand. Perhaps a trick of the light.
Frexspar leaned into Elphaba's ear. "My dear, you look tired. Why don't you go to bed soon?"
"Yes, Father" Elphaba hissed. She gazed daggers at the ballroom floor, rubbing a small green bruise on her hand. Fiyero grinned to himself. She must have been wearing gloves the other night. A trick of the lightning. For judging by her strange makeup, she favored the shade of green. Frex, satisfied, slunk off to more distinguished guests, grinning his wide toothy smile.
Fiyero stared at Elphaba. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but her bruise seemed larger. A deeper shade of green. Perhaps it was an infection. His stomach churned. Elphaba's dark eyes caught his gaze.
"What are you staring at?" She snapped, covering the green area with her other hand. She stalked away.
A rich young baroness asked Fiyero to dance with her. He accepted and waltzed clumsily but soon became fluid in movement, sweeping the woman across the floor, blending in with the other aristocrats. However, the fun was stopped short by a stern look from Frex, and Fiyero returned to his drink serving duties.
But the ball was a beauty to behold, in a flourish of color it flowed on swiftly until the sighing violin music was interrupted by a blood curdling scream. The scream was followed by plenty others, and the crowd of people pushed and surged as men craned their necks to gaze at what the others recoiled in horror. The musician paused, mid stroke, glassy eyes wide open. The entire room held its breath, all eyes on one woman. Fiyero finally saw, and knew that there was no trick of the light.
For by the far north wall Elphaba stood, her flesh glowing maliciously: a bright vermilion shade of green