I have nothing to say on this chapter, other than I quiet like it. Sorry :) Review?
Dinner that night was a silent affair, the tense atmosphere uncomfortable for everyone around the table. The click of knives and forks were the only thing to break the dense silence, and Fiyero and Elphaba were on tenterhooks the entire time. Every time Glinda opened her mouth to take a deep breath, they both looked as though they were staring down the barrel of a musket and were about to be shot, so terrified were their expressions.
Elphaba could barely swallow a mouthful, she was so on edge with watching Glinda. The blonde in question ate calmly, savouring the peas like the greatest delicacy she had ever tasted. Fiyero twisted his napkin in his lap between courses, barely ever taking his eyes from Elphaba. Biaxana immediately understood the situation, but it did not register in Follor's brain, and he kept himself content by enjoying the cold cucumber soup, roasted potatoes, mixed vegetables, corn on the cob, leg of lamb, cheese soufflé, apple tart and rhubarb crumble. Tush and Velita, Glinda's parents, were too absorbed in their grief to notice the stony hush that rested over the table.
"I trust that you will be accompanying us back for the funeral, Elphie?" Glinda said suddenly, skewering a pea on the end of her fork with some real wicked intent. Elphaba blanched.
"Of course," she murmured plaintively, her dark eyes turning to the blonde. Glinda could not hold her pleading gaze, and with a toss of her curls she looked contemptuously at Fiyero, clearly wishing that it was his head she was puncturing, rather than vegetables that would not bleed slowly and painfully to death.
Biaxana spoke next, her matronly air soothing the young people slightly. "Elphaba, you are welcome to return here for the final few days of the summer, if you wish," she smiled, and the young woman's eyes widened hopefully.
"Oh, really? That would be-" Elphaba caught Glinda's disgusted glance. "That would be entirely inappropriate, your majesty." she sighed, "I shall go home, where I can…mourn, without disturbing anyone. My husband meant a great deal to me."
Glinda evidently appreciated this lie, as her green eyes softened infinitesimally. Fiyero, on the other hand, looked crestfallen, and he threw his well abused napkin down.
"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. I feel a little ill," he muttered, standing up and letting his long legs carry him quickly from the room. Elphaba looked after him, confused.
When dinner was finally over, and Glinda had gone for a short walk with her parents before departing, Elphaba snuck towards the wing of the castle where she knew Fiyero's bedchamber was. After knocking three times and receiving no reply, the girl pushed the door gently open and slid inside.
Fiyero was reclined on his bed, staring meditatively at the whitewashed ceiling. His shirt hung over the chaise near the window, and Elphaba saw for the first time that he had tattoos in the shape of diamonds. They were beautiful, swirling hypnotically around his chest and down towards, around and beyond his navel, in the most beautiful azure blue. A part of her wondered where the intricate patterns continued to, but she shook the thought away.
The young man ignored her as she crept closer to the bed, and even when she perched on the edge, her eyes repentant even though she had no clue what she had done to upset him. An uncomfortable minute passed, and Fiyero never relaxed his posture.
"Oh, heart, what's wrong?" Elphaba cried suddenly, perplexed. Fiyero still did not look at her, but a disgusted sound issued from the back of his throat.
"You're asking me what's wrong…" he whispered, allowing himself a humourless laugh. "What's wrong, Fae, is that you are walking on eggshells and making me feel like dirty little secret that you can't tell anyone, just to protect your own, already flawed, reputation! And to play to the whims of that stupid little blonde girl who doesn't seem to realise that your marriage to her grandfather was just a contract, and that you felt nothing for him! I thought you didn't give a flying…monkey what other people thought of you. Apparently, I was wrong." Fiyero said, losing his composure and sitting bolt upright, gesturing wildly.
Elphaba could see that he was hurt; she realised the way it must look to him. Contrary to what he though, she was not ashamed to be with him…But he was right about her worry for her reputation.
"You said yourself, Yero, my reputation is already flawed. I don't need it to get any worse!"
"Oh, so I suppose that being with me will automatically brand you as a brainless slut who is just out to advance herself up the social ladder?" Here he stood and crossed to the window. In truth, he couldn't look at her for fear of seeing the dreaded pain return to Elphaba's eyes.
"But Fiyero-"
"No! I love you, Elphaba, and I don't care one way or the other what people say about me. Yes, I have a less that desirable reputation, but you brought me out the other side of that! I love you and I would happily fight tooth and nail to defend my love for you. But it would appear that you don't feel the same way about me." Elphaba crossed to him and tried to wrap her arms around his waist, but he unhooked them and pushed her gently away.
"Yero, please…" she gasped, unable to believe what was going on.
"Go and bury your husband, Fae. I love you, and I always will. But I don't want to see you again until you can admit to others how you feel, without being ashamed of it." Fiyero murmured, kissing her forehead then propelling her quickly from the room, locking the deadbolt behind her. He slid down the cold stone wall, his head in his hands.
Elphaba climbed into the carriage behind Glinda, pressing her lips together so as to avoid making a scene. Fiyero had not come down to wave her off, and her mournful eyes were wide with unexpressed anger, hurt and confusion.
Tush and Velita put her silence down to grief for her deceased husband, but Glinda saw the lone tear that rolled down the emerald cheek when she thought no-one was looking. The blonde realised that something bad must have happened between her best friend [a little short lived anger at Elphaba would never change that] and the Prince. Elphaba was obviously heartbroken.
And for the first time in her life, little Glinda Upland realised that she had been incredibly selfish. Of course the green girl had never loved her grandfather, and it had been wrong to separate her from the man she evidently did love just to ease her own wounded feelings.
When another silent tear issued from fierce, passionate Elphaba, the girl who seemed to be made not of blood and bone but of iron and whiskey, Glinda Upland felt guilty.