A/N: Thank you all for the sweet, sweet reviews! They make my day!

And just a reminder: I envision Fiyero's character as Black / with middle eastern or Black features because that is how he is described in the novel, so that is how I depict Fiyero and his family in this story. I apologize if I unintentionally offend anyone, it is NEVER my intention!

Please kindly reach out if you have any suggestions, comments or advice on how to better my portrayal of people-of-color so that I can better enlighten myself on how to write these characters! I am a person of color myself, but I am not of the orientation I am trying to write, so I am foreign to this thing but am trying my absolute best!

Alsooooooo... the app loves me againnnnnn, which means I can center my titles again!!!! GUYS I AM SO HAPPY!

Fiyero

The windows whispered as great gusts of wind tore at the glass, creating quite a racket as they shivered in their frames. All day the sky had darkened as huge clouds blanketed the sun while the winds increased to breakneck speeds and thunder rumbled from the heavens. The only element that was missing from this recipe was rain, but that they had seen very little of. It was a shame, really, a thunderstorm without water...

Fiyero shuddered as he drifted down the empty corridor. It was nearly eleven o' clock and his father had requested his presence. Why Fiyero was summoned at such an ungodly hour was beyond his knowledge, for he knew his father preferred to retire early.

"Enter," came the gruff voice after Fiyero rapped on the door.

He scanned the room for his father, who stood by the fireplace.

"Sit down," the King said, his eyes not leaving the flames.

Marilott's private chambers were filled with muted grays and dark browns and the air felt drab and stale. Large drapes hung over the windows and the few torches there were flickered faintly from their sconces. The air circulation in here was practically nonexistent, as was any light. How anyone could spend so much time in here was a mystery to the boy, for unlike his father's chambers, his mother's were always bright and airy, even in the winter, and he knew he'd much rather be able to breathe and see.

Fiyero hadn't thought anything of his parents' divided sleeping arrangements until Fae told him her parents not only shared the same room but the same bed. That had been quite a surprise, and as he took a seat at his father's desk, he couldn't help but wonder where he would sleep when he was king.

"The Thropps will be leaving as soon as the winds subside."

A beat.

"Aren't you going to ask how the transaction is faring?"

Oh. That. Fiyero had completely forgotten about the political element of their visit. "How's it going?" he asked.

The King sighed and turned to face his son. "Decently, but not as well as I would like. Frexspar Thropp is not a genuinely generous man. He knows we are a considerable ally, but is weary of insulting the Gillikins by offering us too much."

"I thought he wanted to meet you," Fiyero said. He tried not to take offense at his father's look of utter shock. He did listen when people spoke… sometimes...

"You are correct. But rulers will change their minds in a heartbeat if they are given a good reason. The Governor didn't understand the direness of the state we are in before arriving, and now he seems to be rethinking his offer," the King huffed.

He sat down and laced his fingers together on the desk and stared at Fiyero. "What should I do?"

What?

Marilott rolled his eyes at Fiyero's evident befuddlement, and Fiyero took satisfaction in how un-kingly it looked.

"I called for you so that you could gain experience in a transaction like this. When you are king you will have to deal with affairs such as these ten times a week, and it will be good for you to commence your practice now."

And we had to do this at eleven o'clock at night? Fiyero thought bitterly.

Joy.

"So, what should I do?"

Fiyero was far too familiar with the expression on his father's face. It was the one he wore whenever he asked a question and knew Fiyero didn't have the answer. Guilt and shame seemed to be the creed he parented by, and Fiyero wanted to leap up and run away, or climb out the window, or hide under the bed, anything to escape this conversation.

Fiyero knew he would be scorned if he said the wrong thing, but he didn't know what the right thing was, so he simply shrugged. Sometimes playing dumb was the safest option.

Marilott scoffed in that way he did and shook his head. "Sometimes I think you're not as brainless as you seem when you say something half intelligent, but then you go and prove me wrong. Your mother allows you too much freedom, running around all day in the way you do. First it was the Aric boy and now it's that weird little Thropp girl."

"Her name is Fae and she isn't weird," Fiyero said through clenched teeth. Well, maybe just a little, he didn't really understand the whole thing with the gloves…

But who was he to judge?

The King raised an eyebrow. "You like her." It was less of a question and more of a statement.

She isn't mean to me like Avaric is and I can say what I want. She hears me — not like you and Mother — she's fun to play with, we like the same food, she doesn't swear, and she makes me laugh.

"I guess so."

"Why?"

"Why do you care?" Fiyero shot back. "You and Mother said you wanted us to be friends! Well, we are, and now you're mad about it, which I guess I shouldn't be surprised about cause you're always mad at me! You hate all my friends, you control my life, and you always tell me what to do! You don't care about me or who I play with unless it has to do with you, and then you're all in my business! Well I'm not gonna change, just like you said, so you should juststop being so MEAN to me all the time!"

Marilott's eyes flashed belligerently. "Watch. Your. Tone."

Ever fiber of Fiyero's being screamed at him to get up and punch something, and it took all his strength to remain seated and face his father. It wasn't a mystery where he got his short temper from.

"Sorry." he bit out. "Sorry for being rude," he added after Marilott glared at him. He was first his king, and then his parent. How stupid of Fiyero to forget that.

The flames flickered feebly, causing shadows to dance across Marilott's stone-like features. There was once a time when Fiyero idolized him. He would dress up like him and try to speak like him, and he'd hope his skin would grow as dark and beautiful as his father's (for his own skin took after his mother's slightly lighter pigmentation), so he could look just like the king. But now, acting like the man felt like less of a daydream and more of a nightmare, and was looking far too much like a life sentence.

Marilott leaned forward. "Someday are going to be the ruler of a country. Thousands of people will look to you, and you will have to provide every single person with an answer. You can never lose control of your emotions, you hear me? There is too much at stake. Your mother doesn't throw tantrums, I don't, and neither can you."

That's a lie. Fiyero knew for a fact that just last week his father had shouted for an entire day and a half when he couldn't find a specific land graph — which he ended up finding right where he left it on his desk — but no one was reprimanding him for his tone and tenor.

"Can I leave?" the boy asked in his nicest possible voice.

"Not yet. There's one more matter we need to discuss."

Fiyero slumped in his seat. He was going to grow old and shrivel up like a prune and die in this chair and then his father would be sorry. Unless, of course, he wasn't. His father would probably be over the moon with joy if that happened because then at least he wouldn't have to yell at his son anymore.

Because Fiyero wasn't paying attention, he only caught his father's last word.

He squinted at his father. Marriage? "Are you getting another wife?"

Polygamy was an ancient tradition that many Vinkun nobles and royals still practiced today. Marilott already had two wives in addition to Fiyero's mother who were waiting back home, but Baxiana was the one and only queen. Fiyero couldn't fathom why a man could possibly need a fourth wife. Oz, he didn't even know why one man needed three. He just knew never to ask about it because even if their nation accepted it, it was clearly a sore subject for his mother, and he didn't dare bring it up with his father for all reasons considered.

"No, Fiyero," the King sighed. "I am not... but you are."

Huh?!

"Son, you're going to be king someday."

If Fiyero heard that line one more time he was going to tear his eyes out.

"You will need to produce an heir and wed at least once in your life."

"Why?"

"The people will want a public figure to adore... and you will want someone to support you when the crown grows too heavy from wearing it alone."

"Why can't she just help me, then? Why do I have to do all the work?"

"Because women can't rule."

"Why not?"

"Because they justcan't," his father snapped. "A woman has never sat on the throne. It has never happened before and won't ever happen. That's just how things work. Traditions survive for a reason; to keep order and prevent chaos."

"But—"

"Fiyero! Pay attention. Do you remember Lord and Lady Bylurst? They visited for Lurlinemas last year and gave you that rain stick."

"The short people with all the face moles," Fiyero nodded. The rain stick was stupid and broke within an hour of using it as a sword.

Marilott pinched the bridge of his nose. "That too. They have an estate in the south and are our main suppliers in wool. They have several daughters and one of them, Sarima, is your age. Joining our houses will strengthen not only our families, but the country, so Kassin Bylurst and I have decided you two will wed."

"What?!" Fiyero yelped, jumping in his seat. "I can't get married! I don't even know her! She could be ugly or stupid or boring! What if she has a gazillion moles?! What if she smells?!"

Marilott inhaled deeply. His face adopted that 'I am praying to the heavens for strength and patience so I do not kill my kid' look — a commonly worn expression by both Fiyero's parents.

"Sarima is a lady. I highly doubt she smells. If she does, then she can bathe. If she has moles, she can remove them or cover them up. As for the union, you needn't be so dramatic. You aren't getting married now... however, once you two come of age, you will wed immediately."

Fiyero sat back in the chair, processing the news. He was only seven years old and already off the market. How the hell did this happen?

"Am I gonna get to meet her?"

"Of course."

"When?"

"They're visiting next year."

Fiyero was at a lost for words. Married. Him. To another person. To a girl. The only girls he liked were his mother and Fae, and both were far from eligible matches. He couldn't even imagine what a marriage was supposed to be like, never mind participate in one. His parents were more attentive to their country than one another and he didn't have any other examples to look to.

How was he supposed to keep a girl happy and run a whole country? Was his father trying to give him a heart attack before the age of twenty? He couldn't tell. He just knew that he was totally and completely in over his head.

Mariott seemed pleased with the lack of response and announced that now they were done, and that Fiyero may leave.

Well thanks.

Fiyero might as well have trudged through molasses, for that's what the walk felt like from the desk to the door. His ears were buzzing, and his vision was a little fuzzy. He chest grew heavier and heavier and felt like a thousand pounds by the time he stepped into empty the corridor.

"Fi-yer-o?" came a small voice.

He jumped and looked around what he thought was an vacant hall. One of the shadows moved and morphed in a familiar figure.

"Fae? What're you doing here?"

The little girl drifted closer. She was almost otherworldly in the way that she seemed to float, and her choice of color (what kind of girl choses to wear black when nobody's dead?) didn't really help at putting him at ease. And that veil. It freaked the hell out of him and he just wanted her to take it off so he didn't feel like he was talking to floating quilt.

"Did you… did you follow me?" he whispered, feeling warm with the idea of being wanted.

"Loud wind," she whimpered.

"Yeah, it's pretty crazy."

"Scary."

"I know, I'm sorry."

Fae took his hand and put it on her chest, mimicking his action from their first meeting. Her shoulders rose and fell as she inhaled and exhaled, and it took him a few moments to understand what she was doing. The boy greedily sucked in a few breathes and felt the weight fall away.

"Thanks," he murmured. "Mother's always telling me to breathe."

Fae tugged on his wrist. "We go?"

"Hold on." Seeing her reminded him of of something he wanted to tell his father.

Fiyero turned around and poked his head in the door. The King had pulled out a stack papers and his quill was flying across the parchment.

"What is it?" he barked without looking up.

It was now or never.

"I was in the west wing and I saw some lady steal a book from a super secret chamber," Fiyero said in one breath. Fae tried to push past him to see who he was talking to but he gently maneuvered the girl back into the shadows.

"I didn't get a good look at her because she was wearing a really big cloak that covered everything, but she grabbed this really old book that started to glow, like glow glow, and then she started chanting. And with her was this really creepy little metal man that moved all on his own, he showed the lady the book and I think I saw him spying on Avaric and me in the west wing before. We should really have the guards check on that — they probably wouldn't mind cause it's not like they do anything else, and it's not like it's a big secret or anything, but some of them could really use the exercise... anyway, I went back and I didn't see her or her creepy little servant again but the book is totally gone and I thought you'd wanna hear about someone stealing from you..."

"Fiyero," Marilott said as Fiyero trailed off. He slowly raised his head, eyes as cold as ice. His quill was frozen, hovering, and was leaking ink all over the paper.

"Kiamo Ko has been in our family for centuries. I have explored it myself, several times, thoroughly. I would know if my own castle contained secret chambers, hidden holes, thriving women or magical metal men, but I do not because there are none. There are no rooms in the west wing, and there never have been. So what in Oz are you rambling on about?"

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Fun facts!

1. Sarima is Fiyero's wife in the novel and is non existent in the musical. Book Fiyero and Sarima have an arranged marriage, marry as kids and later have three children together. I don't like the thought of Fiyero with someone other than our Elphaba either, so I can understand why the botched her character for the musical.

2. In the musical Elphaba is given the Grimmorie by Madam Morrible and the Wizard, but in the novel Elphaba finds the Grimmorie in a secret room at Kiamo Ko. I liked that version way better so I used it as inspiration for my story.

3. Polygamy is NOT a Vinkun tradition in the novel OR the musical... not that I know of, at least. That piece was my sole invention, and I do NOT intend to offend anyone by adding it. I simply wanted to add an element that would make the Arijik's stand out more.

*I personally don't have much experience with polygamy, and I would not participate in it because I just know that I'm much too of jealous type lol, but I am respectful of the people who DO partake in it, and I see nothing wrong with it. Love is love, folks. As long as you aren't hurting anyone, I say embrace that shit.

4. I have been on the receiving end of the 'I am praying to the heavens for strength and patience so I do not kill my kid' look more times than you can possibly know, which is where I got the idea from to include it in here. Friends, I was basically a seven year old Fiyero (more or less).

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