AN: So, so sorry! I've been really sick, but I'm back now. Thanks for reading, and please let me know what you think.
"Love will draw an elephant through a key-hole," Samuel Richardson
Had this been a couple weeks before, Fiyero might have debated, lamented his choice, even for days. But now, it took a split second to know his choice. Elphaba. No matter how desperate the situation seemed. Elphaba.
He needed her: a visceral, all-encompassing need. Nothing made him understand that like losing her. Again.
"So we can't get married today?"
She shook her head without looking up from her book.
He pressed a soft kiss to her temple. "Sorry. Rushing you."
"No," she glanced up to smile at him. "But hush. Tomorrow is early enough."
The sunlight beamed through the salon's shades, leaving intricate shapes of shadow on her skin. He traced them lightly. Oz, he couldn't even work up the worry over their unimaginably dire situation. She was here. She was safe. She was his.
He nuzzled her neck. "Mm, please tell me you leave me a trail of honey here, just in case I've been particularly good."
"Honey?"
He made a show of kissing the soft skin. "Something sweet, to be sure."
She rolled her eyes. "If you want to spend the afternoon over there," she gestured to the lonely settee on the far side of the room, "by all means, continue."
He stretched his arms, leaning back. "Spoilsport."
"Indeed."
"Are we actually going to do anything today?"
"Speak for yourself. I'm doing something now."
He flopped back against the cushions. "Something besides reading. I already did at least a dozen petitions yesterday. I'm so sick of written words, I'm seeing them in my nightmares."
She set her bookmark in place with a sigh. "Well, as I can't leave the castle for fear of being burned at the stake or drowned, I suppose we'll have to make do with indoor diversions."
He grinned and slid an arm around her waist.
"Not that."
He flopped back with a puff of air like a deflating balloon. "Fine. Nothing fun. Just reading for us." She opened her book where she'd left off. "And they wouldn't drown you. We're not heathens."
She flipped a page.
"Maybe burn you at the stake. But definitely not drowning."
She scrunched up her forehead at him. He pressed a kiss to her cheek and rocked to his feet. It would only be one more day anyway, until the wedding. Then she'd be their queen, and it'd be a matter of time until she won over the people. No one could resist her for long.
"Well, it is a desert. Hard to find water to drown me anyway."
"True." He glanced out the window as if studying the landscape. No carriage yet.
No word from Glinda, either, but she did like to make an entrance. Probably planned to burst in and surprise them. He'd left instructions for the back entrance, just in case, in the hopes she wouldn't find the palace as impregnable as Elphaba had. Still, she was running out of time.
He paced back to Elphaba's side. Time seemed to tick by slowly, so close and yet… He should feel nervous. He'd be married tomorrow. No longer the carefree, scandalacious bachelor. He'd be hitched to the old ball and chain.
She turned another page, and he caught her fingers with a soft kiss.
Less than a day, really, and they'd be married. To each other. It sent a wave of relief through him that almost worried him at its intensity. When he had become so utterly subjugated?
His lips migrated from her fingers to her inner wrist and up her arm. She didn't react, but the length of her blink and the forced motion of her breath gave him plenty of encouragement.
He'd reached her neck when a knock came at the door.
"Your grace?" The Vizier ducked in. "Might you have a moment to spare?"
"He's got plenty," Elphaba said with a smirk.
"You little-" Fiyero reached across for the ticklish spot on her knee when the Vizier cleared his throat. He stood. "Alright. What disaster is looming now? Have you found Tyrius yet?"
"No, sire. But the water rights along the border have stirred up again."
"Didn't I already handle this dispute?"
"Clearly not." Her droll tone drew a glare from him that couldn't penetrate the cover of her book.
"Apologies, sire, but the Gjunduns are not appeased. The young ones are talking of rebellion."
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Young ones rebelling. Mustn't have that."
She snorted a laugh, but the Vizier only clarified. Fiyero surrendered. Another tedious progression of petitions, it seemed. By the time they finished, the afternoon had faded around him.
"Go. Run." Her gaze stayed on the book, but he knew she'd picked up on his frustration. "You'll be a mess until you do."
Fair enough. He dropped a kiss to her forehead and slipped out. As usual, the slap of his feet on the ground slowly calmed his mind. It felt good to siphon off the wasted energy, but he found himself glancing back every other step. The silence felt too odd.
He turned at the large boulder, automatically waiting, and realized what had bothered him. No other steps. No puff of breath behind him. No reason to wait for her to catch up.
He ended early. Once he placed the discomfort, it was all he could notice anyway. It had been months since he'd run alone, now. It didn't hold half the appeal.
"This has to stop."
She glanced up at his arrival. "That was fast."
"Wasn't the same without you."
She leaned up to kiss him lightly. He caught her jaw, deepening the kiss. "Should clean up first."
"Or we could get you sweaty to match me."
She arched an eyebrow.
"Yeah, not my best line."
He made it to the door before she said, "Not your worst." It held her trademark sarcasm, but a hint of more. He turned back, and the heat in her gaze burned down his bare chest.
"We do get married tomorrow."
"Should wait until then."
He chanced a step toward her. "Should?"
"Will." She shut her eyes, and he took the opening to kneel before her.
"I'm not married to anyone else now."
She arched an eyebrow.
"Just saying." He kissed her hand. "Wedding or not, you know I'm yours. Completely."
She tensed.
"Not that I'm saying…or pressuring…I mean, I'm thrilled just to have you beside me."
She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. "It's not that-"
Her discomfort drove a stake through him, and he felt a crushing need to make her smile. He stuck his nose in the air and smoothed her hands away from the hem. "None of that, missy. I'll have you know, I'm saving myself for my wife."
She lifted an eyebrow.
"Well, from now on, anyway."
She smirked. "Which wife would that be?"
He caught her waist, dragging her up on his lap.
"You have so many, I just want to be clear."
He narrowed his eyes. "Too far, Thropp."
She cackled a laugh, and then leaned back against his knees. "So you mean to tell me, that you're impossible to seduce?"
"Might as well be a eunuch."
She flipped her shirt off in one fluid motion, and he sucked in a breath. With a wry smile, she shifted her hips against his. "Something tells me that's not accurate."
He swallowed hard. "Fae, what're you-"
"Shh." She kissed him, her body warm against his. The bare skin of his chest pressed against the soft skin exposed around her undergarments.
"You know, when I said you couldn't seduce me, I meant-"
"Oz, shut up."
He did. The smooth glide of her skin against his drove the blood well away from his brain, so the most he could've managed was gibberish anyway. He twisted them so she lay beneath him.
Her leg hooked around his, and he deepened the kiss with a groan. Her fingers curled against his back, urgent and strong. He sucked at her earlobe, nipped it between his teeth, and she arched against him. He wanted more of her, wanted to run his hands over that smooth skin, make her sigh and moan.
He rolled them, only the settee wasn't large enough to accomplish the move. He fell flat against the ground with a thud, jamming his elbow into the coffee table, as she toppled on top, her knee connecting rather painfully with his groin.
She sidled up, a breathless laugh catching in her throat. "That went well."
He sat up with a wince. "Worth it."
A grin split her face, and he couldn't help the words that rushed out reflexively at such a beautiful sight.
"Oz, I love you."
Her cheeks darkened, but her smile didn't dim. He kissed her palm lightly.
"Come on." He fumbled his way to his feet. "Let's get some sleep. We've got a big day tomorrow."
"Oh?"
"Didn't you know?" He tugged her to her feet beside him. "Some lucky girl gets to marry the prince."
"Oh, is that right?" She pushed away from him. "The girl's the lucky one?"
"I like to think the prince is a bit of a catch."
"Perhaps the prince thinks a bit much of himself."
"Oh, he certainly does." They reached her room, and he wrapped an arm around her waist. "Hard not to, when he gets to marry such a great girl."
"Save it. I've already agreed to marry you, you know."
He laughed. "How did I manage that one, anyway?"
"The world will never know." But her smile was soft and genuine. She pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Goodnight."
"Our last night apart."
She tipped her forehead to touch his. "Let's hope."
A long, slow kiss goodnight, and he reluctantly went back to his own quarters. Sleep came slowly, but filled with sweet dreams.
xxXxx
"That's interesting attire for a groom."
Ramoina seemed like her old self, complete with teasing smile. Fiyero stretched his arms. "You don't like my sweat pants couture?"
She sat across from him with her fruit. "Where's the bride? Or are you two actually following that whole bad luck to see each other thing?"
"I don't think intentionally. She's probably just getting ready. You know how long that takes."
They shared a look. Neither of them would want to be one of Elphaba's maids right now. She despised fashion and primping, but royal weddings couldn't be done halfway. Even with the shortened timeline.
"I'm surprised you're ready so early."
She shrugged and fussed with the shawl. "Better that than late. I think they'll wait for you. Me, not so much." She glanced up at the clock. "Though you might not want to risk it. You know the pictures are beforehand, yes?"
He rocked to his feet and winked. "Ready to get a sister?"
She rolled her eyes. "It's amazing anyone can put up with you."
He ruffled her hair as he passed. She swatted him away, filled with complaints about redoing her coiffure.
He dodged away and hurried to don his own unnecessarily elaborate dress clothes. Groomed and decorated appropriately, he headed to the sept, fighting the urge to whistle.
His mother met him in the foyer, and he held up a hand. "It's happening. It's done."
"Not yet." He narrowed his eyes, but she took his hand. "You know I only want you to be happy."
"I will be happy." He begged the contentment to show in his face. "Oz, Mother, she makes me so happy."
"I hope so." She kissed his cheek. "I really hope so."
He felt a swell of love for her that she kept the rest of her concerns to herself. He wouldn't worry over the consequence today. After all this, he deserved a few moments of happiness. They all did.
The photographer came, and a blinding number of pictures later, they sent him inside to wait at the altar. He slipped back into the hallway as soon as he could. The vision of his bride there took his breath away.
She scowled at the photographer as he tried to pose her, and Fiyero couldn't fight a chuckle.
Elphaba whirled on him. "What are you doing?"
He caught her hand. "You look beautiful." She did. All big brown eyes, soft black hair, and fluffy white dress.
She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure a picture of me arguing with you isn't what they're going for."
"Then don't argue," he grinned, pulled her toward him for a soft kiss. "Our last kiss before we're married."
She pushed him off. "Not if you don't actually go inside."
"So if I stay, there's more kissing?" Another less-than-delicate shove. "Alright, I'm going…I'm going."
He slipped in and took his position at the front. After a few tedious minutes, the music started, and he fidgeted with his collar. Any second now, they would be married.
But the doors didn't open.
The song finished. No bride. Confused, the musicians started the tune over, but Fiyero strode toward the doors. What was the matter? Was she having second thoughts? If so, why hadn't she mentioned it a moment ago?
"Elphaba?"
He opened the doors to darkness. That wasn't right. "Yero!" The muffled shout came from down the hall, and without thought, he sprinted after her.
He stumbled over something in the dark, and slammed hard into the wall. He shoved off and after her. He shouted her name again. No reply.
He flung himself around the corner and skidded on the ribbons ripped from the wall. Pedals littered the ground like shrapnel from a flowery bomb. He pushed himself faster, his puffed breath accusing the neglect of his morning jogs.
Still, he pressed faster. He spun around the corner. He saw her, flailing against her abductors. The reality crashed around him. His heart dropped to his stomach.
She fought like a wildcat. Despite the fluffy dress, she'd have freed herself no doubt, if it'd been one person. As it was, the three black-robed figured corralled her without opening. Desperate, he flung himself after them.
"Stop!" he roared, too far away to do anything. They had her out the door before he reached halfway. But still he pursued, yelling for guards.
This couldn't be happening.
He slammed into the window by the stairs. They'd reached the bottom already. He shouted for the guards at the exit, but the men were prepared. One attacker took each guard, and the third hauled her into a carriage.
Fiyero lost track of the fight as he crashed down the stairs. By the time he reached the next window, one had broken free to jump in the driver's seat. Before the guards could react, the horses sprinted forward, and the carriage jolted out of reach.
Numb in disbelief, he fell back from the window.
Just like that, she was gone.