Night crept along with sleep an impossibility. Gone tomorrow. Was she watching from her window, heartbroken by it too, waiting for him to swoop in so they might glide off together? His stomach ached. He'd never seen his father so angry. What if he meant a more permanent gone, as in, from existence?

No. Not for some stolen kisses, though maybe for those stolen orders... He pressed a hand flat over his abdominals to hold that spasm of worry at bay. His father was a just king, and not blood-thirsty enough to condemn Three for a myriad more suspicions. He needn't worry for Elphaba's safety at his father's hands.

Her father, though…Oz knows what she'd face once she returned home. How long until the holidays could excuse her return? How long to suffer with that tyrant and no sister to buffer?

He pushed away the illogical fears to focus on a more present danger. Who had put those orders in Elphaba's room? He knew he hadn't forgotten them there, and whatever his father implied, his heart knew there was zero chance Elphaba took them. So who?

He had to do something. The hours passed, and his urgency deepened.

He eyed the window. He made a fair climber, but with no rope, no spotter? He'd quite the childhood experience sneaking out of the castle, but not confined to his quarters. He couldn't think of anything.

He paced.

A scuffle of feet outside told him of shift change, and he cracked the door. Sure enough, the distracted men presented a subtle opportunity, and he drew a deep breath. This was a bad idea, but he didn't stop to think it.

He shoved the door open and ran.

They gaped as he sprinted past. Clearly no one expected him to be brainless enough to brazenly run right in front of them. That moment of indecision from the guards cost them ground as Fiyero sprinted.

His feet slapped on the ground, breath panting. He probably had moments at best. He hurtled to the staircase and flung himself down, half-jump, half-skid. The banister knocked painfully into his elbow, but it kept him from toppling over. He pressed on, running so hard that his bare feet thwacked louder than his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

A clatter of booted steps, loud and too close. A shift of air behind him. A guard must have reached out. He caught the corner of a doorframe and flung himself through it, careening out of the man's grip. He slammed into the wall and ricocheted off it.

The lumbering shouts came too close. Still too close. He tried to hurl himself around the next corner and caught the edge of the carpet. He stumbled. A hand gripped the shirt at his back, and he slammed hard into the wall, twisting, falling, tangled up with his pursuer.

He grunted as he hit the floor, and again as the man landed like a ton of bricks atop him.

"Get off, you idiot," panted a man behind, and the human bricks lifted. "That's the prince!"

"Still ran." The man palmed his ribs. "King's orders."

Fiyero flopped back his head back, eyes closed in futile frustration. He groaned a strained breath in, mouth open like a dying fish, as pain radiated from his abdomen.

The guard cursed colorfully. "Your Highness, are you alright?"

He tried to nod, eyes watering. He'd had the breath knocked out him before, and he'd be fine in a moment. But the guard who'd landed on him paled with another string of curses. "I killed him. Oz, they're going to hang me."

The second guard shoved him back. "Shut up. No one's dead, idiot. Come on, help me get him up."

Fiyero's body protested the motion, but they hauled him to his feet, breath rattling through his aching lungs at last.

"Come on, Your Highness. We'd better see His Majesty." They slung him between them and flagged down a steward to run ahead. So much for his big escape and search for justice.

At least he'd regained his breath by the time they reached his father in the courtyard. His father turned sharp, cold eyes on him. "So. You thought you'd just run from your problems. Why am I not surprised?"

Fiyero pulled free. "I went to find out what really happened."

"You know exactly what happened, boy."

He thrust his chin forward. "No, I don't. No more than you do."

"Regardless, her banishment will be for the best."

"Banishment?" Fiyero's aching gut trembled. "What? No!" He thought his father meant to send her away, but banishment? That was so…final.

His father's jaw twitched. "For the best, son, as you prove with your every foolish action."

He'd greatly underestimated his father's rage. "Banished for what? You've no proof she took those orders, because she didn't!"

"Which you also cannot prove."

"Let me try." He reached out a hand, but his father's cold stare sent it limply back to his side.

"Enough." The finality in the word vibrated through the air. "Her banishment stands, regardless."

"For what, interfering in my pathetic marriage?" Fiyero scoffed. "How is Three still swaying around here then. If you think she hasn't tried, you're the one willfully blind."

"You've broken your vows twice over then?" Disgust at the thought twisted Fiyero's face, and his father lifted an eyebrow. "So, no?" The sarcasm on the statesman felt unnatural, almost unseemly. His father gave a sharp nod. "That is how, then. Your foolish actions only involve Miss Elphaba, and she is the one who pays the price for your lack of self-control."

"Lurline, over a damn kiss?"

"For treason."

"For love! You'd see that if you weren't so blind. It isn't right."

"You're in enough trouble without this insolence." His father's face reddened, and he puffed out his chest. "Be glad this is all she faces."

That illogical fear of her death didn't feel so silly now. Desperation flooded him, warring with indignance for control, and he flung himself toward his father fast enough to draw the guards a protective half-step. "It's not her fault. She tried to keep me away, and I wouldn't listen."

"All the better to send her away. Remove the temptation."

"Fiyero, my love." His mother stepped forward, eyes puffy from crying over him, and Fiyero felt anew the guilt he'd carry for this. She smoothed a hand over his cheek. "I know you are hurting now, son. The first blush of love may seem eternal, but it is the foolishness of youth that makes it seem so. In a few years, you'll be able to see the wisdom of this." She took his hands, pressing his wedding ring into them. "Give your wife a chance, and you may find love with her as well."

He shook his head. He'd never love Nessa. Never. "This is madness." He shoved a hand through his hair.

"You must accept, son-"

He interrupted, "No! I won't accept it. I won't let you-" And his father interrupted him, and for a moment they both yelled over the other.

"You have an obligation-" his father roared, and Fiyero threw his cursed ring down.

"To hell with obligations!"

The ring thunked and bounced to land at his mother's feet. She tipped down for it, tears shining again.

"I think you've done enough of that." His father trembled with her rage, and for once in his life, Fiyero faced that icy fire with absolutely no fear. But his lack of capitulation fueled his father's rage. "I had hoped you learned by now, our personal feelings are always, always, secondary to the duties of our office. Like it or not, she is lost to you." Fiyero vibrated with rage, fists clenched and shaking. "Accept it. Grieve. And move on to face the responsibilities you ought never have abandoned."

No. He would never accept it, not after the disaster of his marriage. He ought to have listened to his heart then, but that pain etched the lesson in deeply now. For the first time in his life, he truly believed he knew better than his father.

His mother set a tentative hand on his arm. "We may rail against the mountains, but they will not fall. No matter how unfair we might imagine it."

His father lifted a stony eyebrow, and Fiyero realized with an intensity that sent him reeling back a step: they had reached an impasse. Fiyero would never accept her loss, and his father would never accept her presence. They'd be locked in this battle endlessly, but as long as his father wore the crown, there could only be one outcome.

His future lay before him clearly now, but not as they envisioned.

They imagined him trapped, and he was, if he were to remain prince. If. His father, so busy breaking Fiyero into the king he'd someday be, held no ounce of understanding of the person Fiyero actually was. If he banished Elphaba, he banished Fiyero right along beside.

It showed on his face, he knew, as his mother wrapped her arms around him. But they didn't understand it, just as they didn't understand him.

"Please," he breathed, that future swirling him in. "Don't do this."

The crown he could give up in a heartbeat. But banishment would mean leaving them, his family, his friends, the people he'd tried to protect his whole life. Elphaba would blame herself, though the fault rested on his shoulders. She'd beat herself down with it. The woman he loved would be devastated, his family would be devastated, Aruc, Nessa, all of them.

"Please," he begged, misery tearing his voice into a husky shadow. "I am begging you. Please, please father, punish me, but don't do this to her."

His father's ice cracked, and his face twisted into pity. He wasn't heartless. Fiyero knew his father loved him, no matter what his anger might say, and he knew this hurt his father, too. But his father pressed his lips together and spoke with the king's voice. "I know you don't believe me, but I am doing this for you."

"How can this be for me?" Fiyero tore at his hair again. "What next? A lobotomy? Oh, but only for my benefit, for sure."

His father flushed, and he wanted to shake him.

"Fiyero, hush." He spun, and there she stood, his Fae, beautiful and exhausted and rumpled from a long, sleepless night he'd given her. He took a step toward her, but she shook her head. She turned her fearless gaze on his father, and Fiyero held his breath. "I accept my banishment."

It drove the breath from him as surely as that guard's elbow had.

His father lifted himself to his full height. "You understand what this means? If you violate this, no matter the circumstance, you will hold your life in forfeit."

Her voice was even, her eyes clear. She nodded. "I understand."

"No," Fiyero's shoulder slumped. "No." She took a step, and he fled to her. He clutched her face, shaking his head. "No, Fae, no."

She turned to him, her eyes so deep, and tilted her head. "We always knew it would come to this." He shook his head. No, no, no. He could fix this. He could do…something. She gave him a soft smile and an equally soft kiss. Then she set her forehead to rest against his.

"Take care of my sister," she breathed. "Don't hold this against her."

He frowned hard, shaking his head again, and fully unable to speak lest he lose his battle with his tears and burn his precious Fae.

She caught his chin tight in her fingers and stared at him. "Promise me."

He pressed his lips tight together. He couldn't do that. He wouldn't be here to carry out that promise. Her eyes kept boring in him, needing that promise for her peace, and he tore his gaze away.

"You're wrong again, you know." His words carried a sullen tint he wished he could wash away. "I won't give up on you."

She didn't argue, but her sad smile said it all. She'd given up on him.

'For your own good' rang in his ears, though no one had said it. Ugh, it made him want to scream. Was he a child to be managed or minded? Was he a dog, to come when called and never question why he ought to stay or go or fetch? Did no one in his life believe he deserved any choice in his future?

Frexspar led her out, and he started to follow. "Fiyero," his father called. "Leave her to her goodbyes."

He ought to follow, but he complied. He had his own goodbyes to make.

He crumpled, head bowed to hide the heart he wasn't supposed to have. A hand fell on his shoulder, and he wanted to shove it off, but the exhaustion of his misery held him still. His mother shifted and whispered something that had his father sending away the others in the room.

He hadn't time for this, he chastised himself. He hadn't time to wallow. He locked away that part of himself. He had to earn his way free soon, or how would he find her?

His mother buried him in comfort and clichés, and he pretended to let it soothe him. Each moment made his fingertips twitch as Elphaba got farther and farther away. When he felt convincing enough, he stood to face his father, assuming the penitent air that had been expected all along.

Eyes downcast, miserable frown, he spoke with a beaten tone. "I'm sorry, Father. I'm…ashamed."

His father's frown twitched in a fleeting ghost of sympathy.

"I've been selfish, and I didn't listen when you tried to warn me. I have cast dishonor on our family and our people." He tipped his head up, showing the truth of his words. He hadn't needed to lie. He drew a long breath. "But I love her, Father."

His father nodded, his eyes a well of hurt. "I know, son."

"Come, let's go lie down."

His mother led him from the room, and he let himself follow. With Elphaba gone, they thought him broken, beyond the need for guards, and he need only let her care for him a few long moments before making his escape.

Atop the stairs, he saw Nessa stationed at a window. His jaw tightened. "After all she's done for you, and you don't have the decency to say goodbye?"

"Done for me?" she snarled, that pretty face twisted to show the ugly, selfish heart within. "Done to me, you mean."

"I said what I meant, and you know its truth. Whatever blame you want to throw, she's still your sister. Banished." He choked on the word. "And you hide up here. You can really break her heart like that?"

"She broke mine first," Nessa pouted behind red-rimmed eyes. Her cold laugh could have cut glass. "You expect me to hug her and cry forgiveness? After what she did?"

He shook his head. "More truth for you to ignore and regret, then."

"Regrets?" she hissed. "I regret you, ever knowing you, every moment spent in this barbaric, godless place."

His mother stepped forward, the sympathy stricken from her face. "I know you're upset, dear, but mind your words."

"Why? This sinful, disgusting fool-"

"Your husband, and my son," she said firmly, "and someday your king. I understand your emotion, dear. Sometimes we say things we don't mean in the heat of our anger. But unmeasured words can have impact we don't always intend once tempers cool."

Nessa turned that bratty face on his mother, and Fiyero edged a step back. "I've said nothing I don't mean. Maybe you should focus your wisdom on that unfaithful pig you all married me to."

Fiyero snorted. "Yes, you so fought it at every turn, what with insisting I marry you despite knowing my love lay elsewhere."

"Not that it was with Elphaba!" Nessa hissed.

"As if you'd care about anything but what you wanted."

"I'd care that you so debased me like that!"

"Enough," his mother stepped between. "You two are married whether you like it or not."

"I don't-" Nessa started, but his mother interrupted with an icy tone violent enough to shatter the fires of the underworld.

"I'm not finished. Regardless of your anger, you will not denigrate him like this, nor you, her. Love each other, hate each other, whatever you want in private, but this hateful spew of insults is finished, am I clear?"

Fiyero gave a nod, but Nessa tipped her head back. "I only speak the truth, and if the truth of his disgusting behavior is so upsetting, take that up with him."

"No," she stepped forward into Nessa's personal space, edging the girl a difficult step back. "You are mistaken. This isn't advice from an Ama, it's a command from your queen, and you will follow it."

The girl paled, but stuck her chin out. "Not my queen."

"Oh, honey, you married him. You chose to, from what it sounds like, and so whatever you think of our people, you're one of us now. And you will answer to me if you can't keep reign on that tongue of yours. For your own sake, I'd resist the urge to argue."

Three sashayed around the corner as if lured by the drama, and his mother spared a smile.

"Dear, would you help the princess back to her quarters? She's not feeling so well, so much on her mind."

"Of course, Your Majesty." Three dipped a curtsy. "Oh, she does look so weak. Lean on me, sweet lamb. I'll see you back to your bed before you know it."

He fought a smirk. His mother never ceased to amaze, but then he thought how she would take the news of his leaving. He'd be safe from the wrath, but no amount of distance could protect him from breaking her heart.

His smile fled to misery in a breath. They shuffled the rest of the way to his room without a word.

"I love you, Mother, but could I be alone? I didn't sleep much last night." His eyes drooped even as he said it, and she set a gentle hand on his cheek.

"Yes, my angel." She dipped in a kiss, and he imprinted the moment on his memory. The last moment he spent with his mother before he broke her heart.

She smoothed a thumb over her kiss and down his temple.

"Sleep well, my love."

He waited for her to leave, fighting the tendrils of sleep that threatened to turn his fake excuse into a real one. Then, aching and tired, he dragged himself up to pack. At the door, he paused. He took in his childhood home that had been his refuge, had seen him learn and fail and grow.

Then he left it behind.

His future waited beyond these walls, riding East at a speed he intended to double.