"Your Majesty."
His father lifted his head, and Fiyero spun back around the corner. He tucked low, heart hammering an ostinato of anxiety.
"Master Aruc." He could hear his father's frown in the words, and Fiyero shuffled to peek around a conveniently-placed vase. "What are you doing in the greenroom?"
An innocent question, asked with no outward suspicion, but the pouch clutched in Aruc's hand seemed to scream their intentions. Aruc rubbed the back of his neck. "Looking for flowers. For Nessa."
His father's shoulders slumped. "Son…" He set a hand on the boy's arm. "I know you share my son's optimistic spirit, but, the doctor has already seen her. The prognosis isn't good."
Fiyero shut his eyes tight and tipped his head back. His fault. All this, his fault.
Aruc nodded and pressed his lips tight together. "Still. Perhaps Lurline will look down on her and take pity. Or her Unnamed God."
Had it been Fiyero who had said this, he knew his father would have riddled him with disagreement, but for Aruc, he merely tilted his head. "I hope it may be so."
Fiyero slid an inch closer, and the vase gave a dull clunk barely above a whisper. Still, it drew his father's eyes, and Fiyero's breath caught. Aruc took a sideways step to block. "How is her father bearing up? I know they are close."
"Yes, indeed. I think it might be more than he can bear. He had been holding vigil, but, after the doctor left…no one has seen him." That sent Fiyero's stomach swooping, given what he'd just learned. What treason pulled Frexspar from his darling daughter's deathbed? "Perhaps you ought to take your flowers to the chapel, see if he prays there. He will no doubt appreciate the gesture." His father set a reassuring hand on his friend's arm, but then he frowned. "Where are they?"
"Where…? Oh, yes. The flowers. I didn't see any tulips, and I thought I might try the East Garden." He forced a tight smile. "They're her favorite."
"Gather some peonies before you leave. If you seek to entreat deities, you should choose the proper offering."
Aruc inclined his head. "Yes, sire." He turned back toward the greenroom, and his father nodded a farewell. They waited until he'd passed. "At least we know he doesn't know you're missing."
Fiyero frowned. "True. But where did Frexspar go?"
"Thoughts for later. After we save Nessa, and Elphaba, and find evidence against Three and-"
"Lurline, shut it before I jump out this window."
Aruc shook his head. "It does seem rather hopeless, doesn't it?" They reached the stairs, and Fiyero took the lead. He assumed his royal persona and threw open the door.
The guards shut the door to Nessa's room and turned. Fiyero's heart jumped in his throat. "What are you doing?"
They paled. "Nothing, Your Highness," said the older one as Babyface Guard shot out, "Apologies, we heard-" Graying Temples elbowed him in the ribs with a sharp look.
Had they gone in? Seen Elphaba? They hadn't run yet, so maybe not, but what if he'd caught them leaving.
He stared at them intensely, his best imitation of his father. "You are not to touch that door. My father will be here soon, and if anything is the slightest out of place, I swear to Lurline, you'll be begging for the Great Desert," he bluffed. No need to run and fetch his father. At least, not in the few moments they'd need for this, and after they escaped, it wouldn't matter.
They chorused their "Yes, Your Highness"-es, and Fiyero led Aruc in.
A step in the door, he saw Elphaba brushing Nessa's hair back from her forehead. Of all the- They'd been a step from disaster at most. He swallowed hard. She would kill him. His heart couldn't be strong enough to survive how she toyed with it. He stormed over and thundered as well as he could in a whisper. "I told you to hide."
"About time," she snapped. "She's getting worse."
He gripped her elbow all the same, ready to drag her out of the castle if need be. She met his eyes without remorse, and he huffed. Her life might have meant less to her than Nessa's, but not to him.
Aruc swallowed hard at the sudden tension and set to work on the treatment. He withdrew the kho vindeca and crushed the sap out of it. It glopped thickly into the glass of water, and the water turned a shimmering pale red. "That should work. I think."
Elphaba snatched the glass so quickly it spilled, and Fiyero wanted to throttle her. Any of them could have given it to Nessa, and they wouldn't have that angry burn to suffer as a result. But she paid it no mind, even when her finger bled.
Careful. What a joke.
She tipped the gooey mess in Nessa's mouth with the care of a mother bird feeding a sick baby. It broke his heart even as he wanted to shake her to stop being so reckless. "Please let this work," she murmured endlessly, eyes shut tight. He smoothed a hand over her shoulder, echoing the words in his thoughts.
No change.
Aruc bit his lip. "Keep pouring it. Who knows how much she had?"
Elphaba poured more, slow enough not to choke the other girl, and Fiyero held his breath. This had to work. It had to.
Nessa shivered, then stilled. Her hand relaxed. Her eyes fluttered, and he willed her to open them. "Come on, Nessa. You can do it," he whispered. "Come on."
Elphaba tipped the glass again, coaxing the gooey liquid in a thin stream. Nessa swallowed. Sighed. Then stopped breathing.
Panic flooded him, and his breath caught in time with hers. But he made himself swallow a mouthful of air as if it would magically give the oxygen to her. A noise punched him in the gut, and he lost any air he'd managed. His father's voice – the stupid bluff turned real. He cursed and grabbed Elphaba's arm. "You've got to hide!"
She shoved him off, hard, and he fell back. She dribbled the antidote slowly, too slowly, into Nessa's unmoving mouth. Fiyero cast terrified eyes at Aruc and tried for her again when the door flung open.
The world switched to slow motion in time to the pounding of his heart. Thu-thud. Elphaba tipped the last drop and sat back. Thu-thud. His father's eyes widened at the glass. Thu-thud. Fiyero reached out his hand. Thu-thud. Nessa swallowed, but still did not breathe.
"What is this witchery?" the booming voice of the king roared. "Seize her!"
Elphaba shook her sister, a sob suspended in her voice. "Nessa, fight it. Breathe. Breathe, damn it."
The guards flanked his father now, and Fiyero launched between. "No!" He threw his arms wide, glaring at his father. "Leave her alone."
Aruc slipped out behind, and Fiyero could only hope he'd gone for help. But from who? His mother could only do so much.
"Son, get out of the way." His father's voice rumbled, low and dangerous, seething. "Now."
"I won't."
But he might have said nothing at all as far as his father reacted. The man's eyes stayed trained on Elphaba, still poised over her sister. His eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared. He looked the very image of the avenging warrior come to slay the beast.
The guards approached on either side, hesitant.
"Remove my foolish son before he hurts himself."
Fiyero tipped his chin up. The first reached for him, and Fiyero slung a punch. A hand fell on his arm from behind, and he slammed his elbow back. Then they were all around. He flailed in all directions, channeled all his desperation into blow after blow. They were too many. A pair disabled his arms, so he kicked out, jerking wildly in their grip.
"Fae, run! You have to run!"
She didn't flick an eyelash.
One circled around toward Elphaba, and he dug in like a pitbull, fueled by desperation. He hauled the whole group over to block her. Exhausted, he panted. His muscles burned. He couldn't keep this up much longer.
A guard forced Fiyero's knee to bend, and he went down, toppling a pair with him. "No!"
His father lost his patience. He strode across and shoved Elphaba away from her sister. "You vile, evil hellion! Was it not enough to deceive my son and betray your sister? To create a mockery of the crown with each treasonous breath?" He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her chin back to face him. "You poison your own sister, and in front of me, no less? You are without conscience. Such unnatural treachery..."
Fiyero flung himself back, begging. "Father, stop! She was trying to save Nessa. It was an antidote."
The king didn't even glance at him. "I'll not allow you another chance of escape. A sword now, and I'll slay this demon myself."
"No!" Fiyero swung himself left, right, hopelessly, helplessly. The king advanced, and somehow Aruc was back now, pale and wide-eyed.
"Your Majesty…"
But still Elphaba just lay there, eyes on her sister, accepting her death. Fiyero called her name, begged his father, screamed useless threats against his captors. The king held out a hand and was given a sword.
Elphaba tipped her head up and met his father's gaze without a hint of fear. Oh, Oz, no. Fiyero shuddered a breath. He knew that look. Death's tapped her shoulder to demand his dance now, and she didn't plan to refuse.
"Fabala?"
The weak, shaky voice stilled the room in a breath.
Nessa sat up. She took in the room and gasped. Elphaba yanked herself free and rushed to her sister's side. "Are you alright? Can you breathe?"
"See?" Fiyero snapped. He shoved the awe-struck guards off and knelt by Nessa's bed, folded over Elphaba like living armor. "You had us pretty worried."
Nessa looked around, frowned, and whispered to Elphaba. She rolled her eyes and draped a dressing gown over the girl.
Aruc stepped forward. "Your Grace, if I might be so bold, perhaps the princess could use her rest now that she has regained her senses." His eyes flicked to Fiyero, and he rustled a stack of pages meaningfully.
Where had those come from? Aruc jerked his head toward Frexspar's room, and Fiyero rocked to his feet.
His father nodded, and a guard gripped Elphaba's forearm. Fiyero latched an arm around her. "No. You're not taking her anywhere. Nessa wouldn't even be alive now if not for her."
"She violated her banishment. She must be punished, no matter how noble the cause."
Fiyero's jaw flexed, still sore from the guards, but it was Nessa's soft plea for a moment with her sister that had the man withdrawing. Elphaba sat beside her, as relentlessly protective of her as Fiyero felt about Elphaba.
"I would caution you against any ill-advised escape delusions," his father said, his eyes on Fiyero.
He nodded solemnly. No need to escape now. Aruc held the proof they needed in his hands.
"Thank Lurline you're alright," Aruc sighed, dropping to Elphaba's side.
"It is the Unnamed God we have to thank," Nessa bowed her head. "And to Him I must surrender myself. This brush with death clarified His will for me."
Oh, Oz. What now?
"The Unnamed God challenges us through adversity, that by our trials we might be strengthened for His cause. I see now my trial, and I am resolved to fulfill it." If she said leading Elphaba to the gallows, so help him- "Fabala, I forgive you."
He nearly rolled his eyes. Forgave her for saving her life? Or for falling in love with someone she'd stubbornly demanded to marry? Perhaps for rushing headlong into danger endlessly for her?
" I see it so clearly now." Nessa struggled to sit up. "This life, this marriage, is not the path He would send me on. Prince Fiyero, I hope you can accept this, and allow me to follow the stirring His spirit gives me."
If only he were always asked to make such an easy sacrifice. He adopted a somber tone. "Of course, Miss Nessarose. Who am I to stand in the way of the Unnamed God?"
"So then you'll divorce him?"
Fiyero rubbed the back of his neck at Aruc's question. "An annulment would be more in order."
His friend tilted his head, eyes wide. "Oh."
Nessa lifted her nose. "Please fetch my father that we might arrange this tonight."
He wasn't going to pass that up. But he didn't dare leave them long. He hustled to the outer hall, clasping Aruc's arm to follow.
Fiyero waved toward the pages. "Thank you for your foresight."
"Thanks for the time you bought me staying that sword, though you do look like you tried to wrestle it yourself."
He flagged down a pair of stewards and sent them on their mission. "What did you find?"
Aruc handed it to him. A half-finished letter from Frexspar to Quiqon, the handwriting a match to the crumpled page in Fiyero's pocket. "If you insist on writing so brazenly, let me be clear. Your resupply pages will remain here until her safety is guaranteed."
Finally, an honest to Ozma miracle. Proof!
Fiyero strode to his father and slapped the pages in his hands. His father looked down, reflexively reading, and flushed. "Where did you-" Fiyero tapped the page again. "Brother Frexspar?"
"Yes?" The man barreled through the doors, but from where? "Where is she? They said she had woken."
Fiyero spun on him, but his father set a hand on his shoulder. "Soon," he whispered. "One step at a time." His father drew a heavy breath, and kept his voice low. "I'm afraid you believe this clears her, and yet, there's no proof yet if she was involved." Fiyero swung around, eyes wide, but his father caught his arm. "I know you believe it, but what if you're wrong?"
He narrowed his eyes. "I'm not, nor have I been at each step, yet you refuse to listen. You're so prejudiced against her, you can't see the truth."
"Oh? And what proof can you offer me, then? What?"
Fiyero pursed a frown. "You saw her with your own eyes. Did she look deceptive? Do I sound bewitched?"
His father lifted an eyebrow, and Aruc shuffled back a step.
Fiyero flung back his shoulders. "I'm no more bewitched than you were when you stood in front of Grandfather, demanding mother's hand, demanding trade talks continue, demanding change, because fear doesn't rule our people." He slammed a hand over his heart. "We do. We carry the weight of our people with all our strength, for the duty and the honor of our noble institution. What's right is right. We do not surrender to shadows and whispers."
Never in his life had he meant those words more. They flamed anew, a choice now not made for him but from him. There was his proof, blazing in every fire she lit in him. Oz knows he wasn't made of fire himself, his father would know that. She had changed him, irrevocably.
His mother rushed in and hauled Fiyero to her. "Look at you, you're in even worse shape!" She fussed and clucked over him, immediately ruining any proud strength his defiance might have projected. "She is awake then? Oh, son." She gathered him in her arms. "I am so relieved for you."
His father took a step back. "It's time."
They entered to find Nessa dressed, and Fiyero at once stationed himself by Elphaba. Frexspar fell on his youngest daughter, wrapping her in his arms. "Thank the Unnamed God!"
Nessa soothed. "I'm well and as whole as ever. By the grace of our Lord and his reluctant servant, my dear sister."
"Elphaba?" Frexspar's forehead wrinkled at the sight of her there. "But you were banished."
"Are banished," the King reminded them. "Despite her supposed heroics." Fiyero glared at him.
Nessa sat up. "Your Highness, Three should be the one punished, not my sister. Elphaba only had the unfortunate fate to love the man she should have been promised to. I can't offer the prince any affection beyond friendship. I'm afraid I must trade my vows to him for those to a higher cause."
Their fathers frowned. "Pardon?"
She bowed her head. "I cannot marry him."
Frexspar leaned down, tucking a hair behind her ear. "But you already have."
"In name alone." She turned back to the king. "My sister should take my place. She's the one meant for him."
"My angel-" Frexspar shook his head, prepared to argue, when Aruc held out a page. His father in law frowned, brows scrunched tightly. And then understanding dawned. His eyes flicked to the king's hand, and the pages therein, and he paled. "I never…" he abandoned the thought, gaping.
Nessa, unaware, shook her head. "My life is due to the Unnamed God, and I must follow His will."
The king frowned. "What does Miss Three have to do with any of this?"
"She poisoned Nessa," Elphaba bit out, and Fiyero fingers gripped her elbow at the memory.
"Yes," Nessa confirmed. "In my tea."
Fiyero tilted his eyebrow at his father. There. More proof.
"Serious allegations, Miss Nessarose," the king warned. "You're certain?" She nodded, and his father echoed the gesture. He tilted his head toward the nearest guard. "Find Miss Three. Bring her to me."
The urge to say he'd told him so was almost overwhelming.
"Still. A banishment is not a suggestion to be disregarded when it suits you. You violated your sentence, however dire the motivations, and you should receive punishment."
His mother clasped his father's elbow and whispered something, but his father shook his head.
"No, I will not pardon such constant disobedience. She is willful enough without believing she is above the rules." Fiyero took a step forward, and his father shot him a hard look. "And she has our son as defiant and obstinate as I've ever seen him."
"Not obstinate." Fiyero tightened his jaw. "Resolved."
His father crossed to Elphaba, and Fiyero edged in front of her. But his father caught her chin in his hand and tipped it up. She met his eyes unflinchingly, as bold and fearless as ever. How Fiyero loved her!
His father's lips pressed in. "But I'll not have her made a martyr. A life sentence, then. But I'll not suffer any rebellions to this, no exceptions."
Fiyero jutted his chin forward, but life meant time. He'd have her out, permitted or not, and she'd be alive. He caught her hand in his tightly. Hope flooded him.
The guard returned with Three, an ugly look on her beautiful face. But one glance at Nessa, alive and perfectly healthy, and she crumpled before his father with a penitent expression. "Please, Your Highness. Have mercy. It was a mistake, I swear it. I never meant any harm."
Elphaba snarled "Liar!", but Fiyero clasped her tightly in his arms. They'd just been given time. He didn't dare risk his father finding her too unstable.
"She's not worth it," he whispered, but she shook free.
"She has been nothing but a lying, manipulative witch since the day she arrived."
Three flashed doe-eyes and a round mouth as if shocked at the characterization. Elphaba leapt toward her again, and Fiyero caught her to him tightly. "She's baiting you. Stop." She glared, but he tightened his grip. They glared. Then for once in her life, she listened to him and sagged into his side.
"She's right," Aruc spoke softly beside the king. "There is no way the herbs could have been mixed by mistake. Jimuak is not an edible herb. She would have known."
Three opened her mouth, but his father held up a hand. "Enough. You dare poison a member of the royal family? And under my own roof, no less. Your treason does not surprise me so much as your gall. Be glad I sentence you to banishment rather than death."
Three sucked in a breath, and Fiyero wished he could find the charity to pity her. She sent a desperate look around the room, and the king followed her gaze.
"And don't let Miss Elphaba fool you," he snapped the unsaid rebuke, but Fiyero felt no remorse for the price paid. He would not regret defending an innocent, least of all his Fae. "If I see so much as a hair of that guileful head of yours, I'll not hesitate to have you disposed of on sight, whatever lie you might spin to try to save yourself."
Three spread her hands wide, eyes progressing through each. His mother looked away, Nessa down, and his father returned it sternly.
"Take her to the dungeon and place her on the first wagon train to the Great Desert. Post her pictures in all outlying villages with orders to execute her at sight."
"Your Majesty, please." She begged, progressing from confident to desperate in the width of the room. Through the door, her sobbed apologies and entreaties muffled into a ghost-like moan.
The king sighed. Three was a champion of his political rivals, and no matter what, there would be rumors his politics motivated her removal. Always a cost. He turned to Elphaba. "It's time to carry out your sentence."
Fiyero gripped her tightly, and she took his face in both her hands. "Don't do something reckless, you idiot. I'll be fine."
"Me?" He shook his head. "Says the one jumping out of carriages and rushing back into castles to save the princess."
She tipped a smile, so sad and accepting and regretful that he couldn't help but kiss her. Her kiss ached of goodbye, and he threw himself into it if only to convince her she was wrong. "I will come for you. I swear it. Somehow, I'll find a way, whatever it takes."
She thumbed his lip gently, acknowledging the words if not their truth. "Take care of my sister. And yourself."
He wrestled back his anxiety. He'd fix this. They had time. Life, not death. "I love you," he promised, and she took it as goodbye.
"I love you, too, you stupid boy. Now let me go."
He could never argue with her. He did, and she strode from room with the dignity of a queen, flanked by guards that might have been her protection instead of jailers.
"Son, she broke the law."
"An unjust one, and to save her sister's life."
His father drew a long breath. "Leave us." He waited, and his expectant stare would have made Fiyero fidget a mere week ago. But not now. "Except you, please, Brother Frexspar."
His mother slipped a hand around Nessa's shoulders. "Come on, dear, let's get you freshened up. Master Aruc, would you mind putting those big muscles of yours to use? Save your strength, honey." Aruc slung her up in his arms, and his mother shut the door behind them.
"We have arrangements that need to be made. And she has reparations that this will repay."
"She-"
"Let me speak, please." Fiyero slunk back at the tone, but only back to his planted stance, arms crossed, shoulders tall, uncowed. His father sighed. "Brother Frexspar."
The man eyed them both. "Yes, Your Majesty."
"I believe your daughter has requested an annulment." Frexspar lifted his head. "Before you voice your opinions, let me inform you of a grievous rumor that I hope you can dispel."
"Oh?" His father held up the pages, and Frexspar paled. "Oh."
"The east gardens carry no red mint plants, but I find eyes seem to grow just fine everywhere around this castle. I must confess, I don't understand why you would risk your beloved daughter's safety. So naturally, it must be false." Fiyero's jaw clenched, but his father still him with a hand. "Wait, son. Your father-in-law will want to discuss the issue of brides soon enough I think."
Frexspar frowned. "I would like an explanation for why an annulment."
"You prefer a divorce?" Fiyero snapped, and the man rounded on him.
"If you hadn't been too busy with that-"
"Your daughter!" Fiyero's face was so close to his that he could measure the wrinkles. "And far more valuable than you."
"Calm." He shook off his father's hand reflexively and paced back. "As I said. I'm sure you would like to discuss the issue of brides. As Miss Nessarose has negated the contract, my son ought to marry your daughter soon."
Fiyero spun with a tight frown. "I have to marry her again?"
"Son…he has two."
"But? Elphaba?" He'd just sentenced her to life imprisonment. He leapt at the hope waved in front of him. "Yes. I formally seek her hand."
His father waved his hand magnanimously. "And so our relations can remain healthy, and these rumors can be dismissed, yes?"
Frexspar glared. "I couldn't care less who she marries, but you must not consider this an alliance, then."
His father stepped forward dangerously. "Oh, I think you'll want to reconsider that. For while you believe the Yunamata more powerful, they are undoubtedly more vengeful. You'll want an ally, some protection to at least dissuade them. And whatever escape plan you had for you and Nessa, I doubt she knew of it. As a person and as a nation, you have quite a lot to lose."
Frexspar nose twisted up. "I'm delighted at the union, of our families and nations."
"As are we," his father beamed.
"Though, to be clear, you may not stay here unless my wife allows it," Fiyero added. His father turned to him. "Nessa might have been manipulatable, but Fae is not. She is Arjiki, through and through, and you'll not insult her or undermine her in front of me again."
"Would you be so kind as to inform the queen of the new festivities she will get to arrange?"
Frexspar left, and Fiyero frowned. "You trust him to do so?"
"I trust him to do what cannot be harmed by betrayal." Fiyero dug out the page, but his father put it with the others, the matter resolved. He set a hand on Fiyero's shoulders. "Now, as for your abdication…you put your kingdom in jeopardy."
"I'm not sorry, father."
His father steepled his fingers. "In light of developments, I assume you withdraw it?"
Fiyero swallowed. "I don't know if I can be the kind of king you expect." He'd tasted his freedom, his agency. He wouldn't go back to those strings tugging all the time.
His father smiled. "My son, you already are. You listen to counsel but make up your own mind. You engage your brain but follow your heart. And you are stubbornly relentlessly determined to protect those you love and to do what's right. You've become a king under my very nose, and I apologize for missing it."
"And Elphaba?"
"Is your choice. Have you thought it through?" He nodded. "You consider her worthy of being your country's queen?"
"Beyond."
"Then, while she might be brash, I can see she is equally determined and relentless. You might turn that boldness into Arjiki strength, after all. I imagine the pair of you will be quite a force. I don't trust her," he tipped his head to catch Fiyero's eye, "but I do trust you."
Fiyero pressed his lips together at the wave of sentiment. "So her life sentence?"
"Is to marry you, of course. A fate perhaps as difficult as the dungeons." Fiyero scowled, and his father threw an arm around him. "I don't intend to execute your future queen, nor is she pardoned. Her crime is absolved." He stepped back with a laugh. "I imagine you'd like to go share the news."
He strode to the door in a breath.
"She is in your chambers, not the dungeons, though it seems both are remarkably easy to escape from."
He flushed.
"And son…". Fiyero looked back over one shoulder. "I owe you many apologies. I ought to have listened. Sarima would be proud of you."
Fiyero didn't trust his voice and wobbled a nod.
"As proud as I am of you." His father gripped him in a quick embrace. Then he waved Fiyero through the door with a grin. "Now go enjoy the spoils of your labor."