AN: Hello! Thank you all for your reviews and votes. For those who have commented on the snow/ice scene, the inspiration is actually from the book when Elphaba rescued Chistery. Here's an excerpt. (TBH, I really love the book, though there are some parts that I think is not suitable for younger teens. I don't like the ending though, and I'm sure all of you know why).
"There was no way to go through the water-that would be death. But her feet went out anyway. They hit the water hard, the water hit hard back-
The water turned to ice as she ran-foot by foot of ice under foot by foot of hurry. A silvering plate formed instantly, cantilevering forward, making a cold safe bridge to the island-"
So here's the final chapter... enjoy!
Fiyero could not recall later much of what happened.
He remembered plunging into the lake, the cold shocking his limbs into action, his weak limbs struggling in the water as he followed the plume of blood.
Elphaba!
His fingers catching hers for a split second before she slipped away again; sinking further and further away from him.
No!
He could not remember how he managed to close the gap between them, how he managed to pull her out of the water. Perhaps she was the one who had pulled him out of the water, but he remembered the way her hair fanned out around her like seaweed, her face the colour of ash.
The grey of the lake.
As if the lake had claimed her.
Please!
Her glassy eyes. His futile attempts to pump the water from her lungs. The dread growing in his heart as he looked at her ashen face and blue-tinted lips and realised that it might be too late. Too late.
Please, Elphaba. Please don't leave me.
No.
And of course, the broom.
The thing that was not alive, appearing from among the trees close to shore and gravitating towards Elphaba, slow and low to the ground.
Like a respectful mourner.
Nononono, she's not dead. Damnit.
Tapping against his hand, as if it had a mind of its own. As if it was trying to tell him something.
Somehow the broom managed to bring them back to Kiamo Ko, bursting into his mother's suite like a shooting star. Fiyero's shoulder hit one of the tables and he was tossed off the stick, Elphaba torn from his arms. The broom came to a stop only when it hit the wall with a loud clatter.
He scrambled to his knees, and half crawl, half run to Elphaba, ignoring the screams around him. He pulled the green girl into his arms, staring at the group of servants who shrank away from him as if he was some kind of monster, huddling against one another as they looked at him in fear.
"She needs a doctor!" he raised his voice at the girls. "Get a doctor!"
The Vinkun king stepped into his bedroom, exhausted and weary.
He had just finished a discussion with his new steward, a man recommended by Tero. Trem had been dismissed from service in the same room two days ago. He had let the older man know that he knew about his involvement and thanked him for notifying Elphaba when he was told that he was the reason why Elphaba had gone to his rescue. The young king then informed him that his service was no longer required, and the arrangements that had been made for him.
"I know that I would be dead by now if you have not told Elphaba about Firoy's plan, but I can't continue to work with you not knowing if you will betray me again," he told him. Trem would be escorted from Kiamo Ko at the crack of dawn, and he would go to a monastery in the south where he would spend the rest of his life under a vow of silence.
"Trem?" he called out when the older man was about to leave the room. The latter turned around, and Fiyero almost faltered on his stand when he saw the hope on the man's face. "The letters. The ones that I wrote to Elphaba. It was you, wasn't it?" Trem did not answer, but the look on his face was answer enough.
The fire in the fireplace in the bedroom burnt brightly, the crackling sound of the wood reminding him of the moments before the ice that Elphaba had magicked shattered. He looked at the flame, reminding himself that they were now safe in his suite, that the stone floor under him would not break into a million pieces and plunged them into shocking cold water. Fiyero had asked for more than enough firewood to last the night and he threw in a few more pieces and rearranged them with a poker until the fire was blazing.
He shed his shirt, tossing it onto a nearby chair, but his aim was off, and the flannel top hit the back of the chair before slipping off. He glanced at Elphaba, wondering if she would comment on his sloppiness, but her eyes were closed. He picked up the shirt and hanged it up.
The broom now had a permanent place in the bedroom, next to the four-poster bed. Fiyero had gone to his mother's room after that eventful day and retrieved it personally. The piece of stick had a knack of saving their lives, and he thought that he would keep it close to them from now on. He still could not figure out how he had managed to fly back to the fortress with Elphaba in his arms and yet not fell to their deaths. He suspected that he never would.
Tero had set off for the Thousand Year Grasslands yesterday. He had offered to go to the Yunamatas with his own men, among them a Yunamata, and Fiyero had gratefully accepted the offer. The current chieftain of the Yunamata was rumoured to be a romantic at heart, and Fiyero hoped that he would accept his sincere apologies knowing that there was no way he would part with Elphaba at the moment. The group was armed, but it was not to fight the Yunamatas, merely as a precaution and for self-protection. The cousins believed that the plot would fall apart now that Firoy was dead, but it was always good to err on the side of caution; there might be fanatics amongst the Yunamatas, or some who were still unaware of their ringleader's death. As Fiyero watched the group depart, he wondered if he should hand over the crown to Tero, if there was a way to do it. Tero would be a much better king than him. But he also knew that his cousin would not accept the crown no matter what.
The doctor had declared that Elphaba's injuries were not life-threatening, but had reminded him to keep her warm to prevent the onset of pneumonia, of possible infection from her chest wound, and Fiyero had been keeping a close watch on her. He moved his study into his suite, working from there so that he could be close to her, so that he could check on her regularly, so that he would be there whenever the green girl opened her eyes.
He had carried her to the lounge before the meeting, facing the half-painted wall, propped up with a mountain of pillows and covered with a quilt. She was resting, he told himself, recovering. Not unconscious, not sick.
Her eyes fluttered open briefly when he reached for her hand that was under the quilt to check on her pulse.
"It's me," he told her softly, but her eyes closed when he brought her hand to his lips, as if she was so weak she could not even keep her eyes open for long. But there was that slight movement from her fingers, and her eyes opened again when he pulled her into his arms.
"Are you hungry? Would you like to have something warm to drink? Perhaps a glass of milk or hot chocolate?" he asked her as he let her head rest on his chest. Her appetite was poor, the food that she took was too little, and the fever persisted, but Fiyero had to console himself that at least she had opened her eyes, and despite his concerns, had been sleeping well. Perhaps she was too weak to have nightmares. Or maybe she had exorcised the ghosts inside her with Firoy's death.
As they stayed there, he thought of the many things that he would need to work on. How to establish peace among the tribes and lead them. How to stop the people from being disgruntled again. How to get them to accept Elphaba as their queen and to prevent them from finding out the truth behind Firoy's death. They were daunting issues, he would not be able to overcome them easily, but he knew that he would be able to do it with her by his side. He had jested years ago when he saved her from the horses that her life belonged to him, but life had proven time and again that she owned his life. She was his strength, his light, the one who made his heart beat in more ways than one, the one who gave him the will to carry on, even if she was not aware of it. He had made the mistake of treating her lightly once, and he would not do it again.
"It's beautiful," she said. Fiyero had no idea what she was referring to until he realised that she was looking at the half-painted wall with melancholy eyes.
He covered her hand with his, interlocking their fingers as he kissed her feverish forehead.
"It's more difficult to paint than I thought. Did you see that line?" he pointed to one of the steeples. "It's not straight; I can't seem to paint a straight line at that angle no matter how much I tried. It made me wish that I could tear down the wall and tilt it so that I can paint it at the angle that I want." He laughed at the memory. "At first, I wanted it to be identical to The Night Sky, the one we have at Shiz, but after a few mistakes, I realise that there was no way I could do it. I hope that you'll be happy with a poor imitation. Would you like to join in? With me? You can take the sun and the clouds while I handle the rest. We can finish it this winter," he proposed.
Elphaba looked up and he met her halfway, his lips brushing against hers.
"We'll do it together. It'll be our masterpiece," he told her.
He dipped his head as she snuggled against him and kissed her again.
And yet he was not surprised when he woke up the next morning and found her gone.
"So she finally listened," Biaxana said.
"What?" he looked up as a chill enveloped him even though he was sitting close to the fireplace with a roaring fire going.
Tero had returned that morning after spending some time at the Yunamata's winter camp, bearing a letter of peace from the Yunamata chieftain. The two had managed to iron out the issues regarding the murder; the chieftain was shrewd and understanding, on top of being a romantic. The new steward was a capable man, picking things up easily and keen to get things going rather than to play politics. The severe winter that they had anticipated did not materialise. Everyone was looking forward to a mild winter, and a stocktake of the food in the storage showed that there would be more than enough even if the weather worsened. He had sent out a letter to Avaric, asking his old friend to keep an ear open for any noise of dissent in the Emerald City or Gillikin, and to see if he could find the ones who had colluded with Firoy. It seemed that everything was going fine.
But Fiyero's world was falling apart.
Elphaba could not be found. She was not at the library. She was not in other parts of the fortress. She was not at the Red Windmill. She could not be found anywhere and was not seen by anyone.
Her broom was missing.
He had launched a one-man search party for her. Every day, he would ride out in a different direction with enough food and drink to last for the day and searched for her. With the broom gone, he knew that he had no chance of catching up with her if she had flown, but still, he went on his solo searches, wanting to find her, yet knowing that if he stumbled upon her, it would be too late and she would have frozen to death. And then a man appeared from nowhere two days ago, wrapped up in so many layers of fur that he looked like a giant furball, showing only his eyes and sparse eyebrows. His cargo, a letter from Avaric, informing Fiyero that Elphaba had dropped by Galinda's place in Gillikin one evening and had left even before the blonde's message reached him.
"Who?" he turned his attention back to his mother, even though he knew who she was referring to.
"That girl," the Queen Mother said, still not calling Elphaba by her name. "She should have taken my advice and left long ago."
"What did you tell her?"
"The truth, of course. What else would I tell her?"
"Mother," Fiyero forced himself to slow down. "What did you tell Elphaba?"
"That she won't be the only woman in your life. That you'll have others. One or two in Kiamo Ko. Other women that you'll keep in the Red Windmill, in Gillikin, in the Emerald City. And you'll have children with other women. She's an outsider. She'll never understand that this is our tradition, our way of life."
"Why did you lie to her? You know that I will never do that to her. And when did you talk to her?" Fiyero's mind whirred. He had been with her constantly, from the time she saved him at the Grasslands to the time she flew off in the middle of the night on her broom. There was no way his mother could find a chance to speak to her on those few days. So when had the older woman sought her out? Was it when she was staying in the Red Windmill? Or was it even earlier, when Elphaba was staying in Kiamo Ko?
"Are they lies? When was the last time a king, or even a chieftain, stay with just one woman? When was the last time a man craves power and wealth and yet not the attention from women, or even men?"
"Father did," Fiyero said; he never expected that there would be a day when he would defend his father on his affairs. "He might have flings, but he came back to you in the end. I remember how much you looked forward to his return, when he visited you in your suite." He recalled when he was younger, how his mother would fuss over her hair and dress when his father came to her after a long journey. "You are his queen. His only one. And I believe that was what you want." Fiyero suddenly recalled the way his father neglected his mother, and wondered if just retaining the title of queen was good enough for his mother.
Biaxana threw her head back and laughed, to his surprise.
"Did he come back? Of course, he came back, yes, of course, he did. With a bastard that he treated better than the son that he has with his queen." The bitterness was undeniable.
"Firoy is his son too," Fiyero argued, even though he was feeling conflicted. "And Father brought him back because he thought that I will not live to adulthood." He exhaled, remembering how many times his father had mentioned that Firoy was more like his son than Fiyero was, how many times he had tried to pit the two boys against each other when they could have grown up and learnt to support each other instead. All the competitiveness between the two Tiggular boys, all the taunting. If his father had not brought Firoy into Kiamo Ko and raised him as if he was his legitimate son, would the rest - Doctor Dillamond's murder, the attack on Elphaba, would all those have happened?
"He didn't bring Firoy's mother into the fortress, nor any other women," he added.
"That was not from the lack of trying."
Something clicked in Fiyero's mind - Firoy's accusations when he thought that he was confessing to a dead man.
"Firoy's mother…"
"She was someone I knew. She was beautiful, sweet. Of course, your father wanted her. She promised me that she would never fight for his attention, but that is only so much a woman can resist before she succumbs to a man. His attention, his promises, the allure that the most powerful man in Vinkus wanted her, all the jewellery and gifts that he bestowed on her. Doesn't that sound familiar? Paying a girl's undivided attention and showering her with gifts until she cannot resist you anymore?"
Fiyero bit his lower lip. He could not deny that.
"How much I hated it when he announced that she was pregnant before me! He wanted to bring her into the castle if the baby that she was carrying was a son. His son, he said."
Biaxana looked out of the window, her eyes far away.
"She went into labour when he was in a meeting with the elders on some crisis. There was always one crisis or another. The midwife sent a message, saying that she was bleeding uncontrollably, that she might not last the night. But the door was closed, he was to receive no visitors, no messages. My belly was swollen with you, but I went down to Kiamo Ko."
She paused.
"The whole room was filled with the smell of blood. She had her baby with her, a tiny little thing wrapped in a yellow blanket, resting on a yellow pillow." Fiyero understood the significance of the colour. "The midwife left the room with the baby. She asked me where your Father was, and I lied. After all, once, I have loved her like a sister. I lied that he was on his way, that she would see him soon. She smiled."
"She told me that it was a boy, and that your father had promised that he would be king if the baby in my belly turns out to be a girl. But I knew that I would give birth to a boy, and even if I didn't, there will be other babies. She was losing a lot of blood. She was weak. There was so much blood. She would not have survived the night."
"She might."
"That pillow that your father gave her for the babe. They said that she tried to reach for it after I stepped out of the room, but she slipped in the tub and drowned," she said dreamily.
The colour drained from Fiyero's face.
"You killed her." His voice sounded strange even to his ears. "You killed her because you were worried that Father will bring her back to Kiamo Ko and make her queen."
She chuckled, as if she had just thought of something amusing. "Too bad the midwife has left with the baby, or the babe would not have survived too."
Fiyero staggered as he tried to stand up, and the chair that he was seated on fell backwards. He always thought of his mother as frail, weak, indecisive and submissive. He had never known her capable of hurting anyone. But it seemed that there was a part of her that he never knew.
"You murdered her."
"I'm just easing her pain, my son." She smiled. "She could have stayed alive for a few more weeks, in tremendous pain and too weak to move. Too weak to eat or drink. She'd wish that she could die, but unable to. I'm just doing her a favour. I'm doing everyone a favour. They sent her off with the pillow. It is the thing that she wanted, the thing that caused her death."
He baulked at this side of his mother that he had never seen. The excuses she gave to justify her actions.
"That is wrong, Mother. She could have survived. She could have lived a long life."
"Don't you understand? Everything I do, it's for the good of the people. It's all for you. It's for the good of the tribe."
Fiyero wondered if she really believed it. He wondered if his father knew the truth. He wondered if his mother was crazy before she married into the Tiggular household, or if her initiation into the politics and struggles of the royal family twisted her mind.
Biaxana broke into his thoughts with her next sentence.
"It's the same for the things that I do for you, Yero. I love you, and that girl is not suitable for you. She will never understand you. She will tear the tribe apart with her wilful demands."
Such strong words. When had Elphaba made any demands, let alone wilful ones?
"So it's alright for you to kill someone to keep Father with you, but it's wrong of her to want to be with someone she loves?" He continued before she could say a word. "You claim that you are giving her good advice, but it seems that it all stems from your own selfish reasons, your personal agenda. You are no different from Elphaba. You want your man to be faithful to you and you only. You wanted Father for yourself, but yet you want to deny the same for Elphaba. You claim that you were giving her good advice, but are you? You said that you are just doing it for the good of the tribe, but are you?"
His mother opened her mouth to speak, but he stopped her with the raise of a hand.
"You can say whatever you want, Mother, but no matter what excuses you come up with, you are just jealous that she can have what you will never have. She can have a husband whom she loves, who loves her. She can be married to a man who will never betray her love. You are so consumed with hatred that you cannot stand the idea of someone in the same household happy when you are not."
"You think that you will never change, Yero, but you are your father's son. You will change. You will become him. You have the blood of an adulterer in you, Yero. You can't run away."
He stood up. He refused to continue with this conversation anymore.
"Where are you going?" his mother cried out.
Fiyero turned back.
"Perhaps Father was right. I am not his son. And I will never be like him."
From his window, the Vinkun king could see colours everywhere. The window ledges and walkways of the Red Windmill were filled with different types of flowers in full bloom, while the trees and fields on the mountains had exploded into fireworks of brilliance, turning the slopes into a riot of colours that he could see even from a distance.
Summer was always a joyous time in the Vinkus. The warm weather seemed to bring out the best in everyone – people were smiling, and bouts of laughter could be heard often. A memory crept into his mind, and unlike other days, he let it in, let it unfold in his mind like one of the summer flowers. Elphaba sat before him, the scent of the flowers around them, looking at him with utmost seriousness in her eyes. Her hands on his mouth, forbidding him to continue with his persuasion. And her soft lips on his as she cupped his face.
He shut his eyes, but the image refused to go away.
"Your Majesty?"
He turned at the voice.
"Is everything alright, Your Majesty?" Pott asked.
Fiyero blinked his eyes. "Yes, it's just sand in my eyes." He blinked again. "What is it?"
"The ambassadors are here."
He nodded.
Ambassadors. A crazy idea that he had learnt from his travels. There were always representatives from the different tribes, messengers. But now they were going to take it one step further. The chieftains had appointed ambassadors for each of their tribes, forming a network of trusted advisors that would be trusted by the rulers of every tribe as well as ears for their own.
Fiyero went to the meeting room. The assortment of men and women in the room turned to look at him. They looked so different. The Scrow with the kohl around his eyes, the Yunamata standing a head taller than everyone else, the woman with the piercing on her lips who looked fiercer than most male warriors.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome." he said in Arjiki, then Scrow, then the remaining Vinkun dialects, repeating the same again for the next sentence and the next, until one of them raised a hand and asked. "Are you going to keep speaking in all the dialects like this for the whole day?"
He gave them a charming smile. "And I was so afraid that no one will stop me." The group chuckled, smiling at one another, and they visibly relaxed.
Fiyero smiled inwardly. It was a good start.
Pott brought the visitor to his study.
"Avaric." Fiyero hugged his friend as the servants brought in some food.
He picked up a slice of cake without ceremony. "I'm famished."
He spoke again when he polished off the first plate. "I saw the strangest group of people when I came in. Different colours, different costumes, more tattoos than I've ever seen in my whole life. Did you just have a spooky Kumbrica party here without inviting me?" he asked, referring to the annual party in Gillikin where everyone would dress up as witches and fairies, ghouls and demons, and go around asking for treats or sorcery spells.
Fiyero tried to keep a straight face. It was always good to see Avaric again. He was glad that his servants' grasp of Ozian was not strong.
"They are ambassadors from the different tribes."
"Ambassadors? What do they do?"
"They will be the eyes and ears of the different chieftains. For the common good of Vinkus. For peace."
"Oh, you mean they are spies," he said lightly, finding his explanation more palatable.
"Ambassadors," Fiyero repeated.
The servants left the room after all the food was brought in.
"For a while, I thought that you have finally woken up and they are your new advisors."
"The current ones are not so bad," the Vinkun king said, even though he had removed two of them recently based on information that Tero and Avaric had obtained from their respective investigations. "They know the system well. They have the expertise and the knowledge."
"They know the loopholes and your weakness too. And they are the gloomiest."
"Are you advising me?" Fiyero teased half-heartedly. He knew that Avaric always had his wellbeing at heart and he appreciated that.
"Are you seeking my consultation? I don't come cheap. Change them. You're the new king. Change is expected. Replace them with men whom you know and trust. If you can't find people whom you trust, at least find those who are more attractive. You'll be surprised how much an attractive face, or a great body can achieve. Look at me." He spread his arms wide, turning one complete round slowly, a grin on his face.
He dropped his tone the moment the last servant left the room.
"I found her." He picked up another plate.
Fiyero's heart missed a beat.
"Where?"
"North Munchkinland, somewhere close to the Glikkus border. She is there on some wild goose chase – a man there claims that he has cross-bred the Fliaan with the Runcible breed and those mixed horses can run faster than a broom can fly."
Fiyero thought of the promises that he had made to her; it felt like a lifetime ago.
"She looks good, by the way."
"Is she… " did he still have the right to ask that question? The man who should be by her side, who should be with her? "Is she… alone?"
"What do you think? Of course not," Avaric waved off his question with a hand and a look that indicated that he must be a fool to think so. He paused, waiting for the words to sink in and for the expression that he had been waiting for to blossom before he continued. "There is a crazy old woman with her who looks like the great-grandaunt whom nobody wants to touch with a ten-foot pole."
"Nanny." The king's heart started to beat again.
Avaric nodded as he polished off the last of the pastries.
"This is the first time I spent so much effort in chasing down a woman. And she's not even my type," he mumbled as he poured himself a glass of wine.
"Thank you, Avaric. You have no idea how grateful I am." Fiyero had asked his people to keep a lookout for the green girl without avail. Even Firoy had no idea where she was. It had been six months since Elphaba had left, and the first time he heard of her whereabouts.
The Gillikinese brushed off his thanks. "You owe me one. Now just tell me which of your Emerald City properties I'll be getting."
Fiyero smiled at his joke.
Avaric stretched his limbs.
"Would you like to stay for the night?"
"That will be good. I've not been sleeping much the past few days." His crumpled clothes and the bags under his eyes spoke of too many nights on the road. "I do hope that there's some hot water for bathing too. And more wine, of course."
Fiyero nodded and opened the door, calling for a servant and giving the instructions for a room and a hot bath to be prepared. Avaric had another glass of wine in his hand by the time the instructions were given. He passed it to the Arjiki and raised his glass for a toast.
"To reunion," he said.
Fiyero looked at the glass in his hand.
"Can you do me a favour?" He asked, his voice weary.
Avaric nodded.
"If you know of someone suitable… maybe one of the people you've met in your business dealings, someone who is trustworthy…"
Avaric was about to open his mouth and crack a joke, but the look on the king's face stopped him.
"And?"
"Someone who will look past her skin colour and her past… perhaps you can just lead him in the right direction …"
"Am I thinking what you are thinking? That you're actually thinking of this after all the effort that I have put in?"
The king looked back at him without a word.
"Are you saying that that you want to matchmake her with someone else?"
Avaric took a menacing step forward.
"Are you saying that you want me to find someone who will pretend to befriend with her, woo her, marry her, fuck her every night and make her scream his name?" Fiyero flinched at the crude description, but Avaric did not stop. "A man who will look at her and think of the coins that the Vinkun king will give him for fucking her? Who knows that he can make her submit to him every night? And bear his children? Is that what you are asking me to do?"
"Avaric, you don't understand. She'll never willingly open her heart to anyone. She may make friends, but how long can her friends support her? They'll be busy with their own lives, their own families. She'll never be their top priority. She'll be lonely…"
"What about the man she married in Munchkinland? Didn't he promise to take care of her forever? Or is it just a pretty, hollow declaration to be forgotten the next morning?" He jabbed a finger at Fiyero's chest, his voice low. "Do you know how lucky you are? To be able to have the woman you love by your side instead of seeing another man's arm wrapped around her? To be able to show your affection in public without reservation? To know that she is yours? I never know that you're such a fool."
"Avaric, it's not possible between us. I can't abandon my mother. I can't abandon my tribe. I'll just keep hurting her, and I don't know how much more she can take. There's not a single day that I wish that it was the reverse. How I wish that she were the one who has broken my heart a thousand times. She is right. We are just not meant to be together."
Avaric did not voice out a reply, but as the Arjiki king looked up at his friend from the floor, the throbbing pain numbing his jaw, he had no doubt what the Gillikinese was thinking.
"I think I'll have to decline your offer to stay here overnight, Your Majesty," Avaric blew at his reddened knuckles and gave his arm a few shakes before he sniffed at the air. "I think there is something in the air. It makes people … brainless."
Elphaba stood outside the farmhouse, facing the stables, listening as the workers moved about in their business, checking on the horses and giving them their feed. Dawn had just broken, and the air was still cold. Inside the farmhouse, Nanny was still sleeping. Despite what she claimed, Nanny was getting on age, and she needed all the rest that she could get.
The paperwork had been completed a few days ago after much delay, and she was now the proud owner of a horse farm. Elphaba had promised the owner and workers that she would just provide the funds that they badly needed; there would be no change in the way they work, and they had agreed to stay on.
She already had her favourite horse, a young black foal with a silky coat that could run as fast as the wind and showed great potential. He would win many competitions next time, the now ex-owner had boasted when she stroked his mane. She pretended that the white diamond on its forehead was not the main reason she was drawn to the foal in the first place.
They would be leaving today. It was never her intention to stay, and she had stayed much longer than she had planned. Maybe she would be back one day, when the foals were all grown up and would no longer recognise her. Maybe not.
As with other mornings, she started the day with a simple exercise. The green girl closed her eyes, turning her palm skyward, fingers curling slightly as she reached within her mind. She opened her eyes, and there it was, a light, bright in the golden sunlight. She looked at the light, letting it turn golden and white and yellow again before she closed her fingers over her palm.
"What a good morning!" a voice said behind her.
Elphaba adjusted her thick coat and turned to the sound of the stranger, only it was not really a stranger.
A familiar face whom she had not seen for some time. She had not changed much since the last time they met in Kiamo Ko. Her hair was tied up into a loose bun this time, and she was wearing a dress more suitable for Munchkinlander weather.
"That was a beautiful fire," the older woman said.
"So when will I lose it?" Elphaba asked.
"Lose what?"
"My -," she said, clenching and unclenching her fingers. Her curse. Her gift.
Her fingers went to the front of her coat, fiddling with the buttons, touching the slight swell of her belly underneath the fabric. The bump that was not yet obvious over the loose clothes that she wore, and she planned to keep it a secret for as long as she could. "You said that I will have to give it up before I can have a child. I'm with a baby now." A baby, conceived on a stormy night. The babe's father, his face she still saw every time she closed her eyes.
The older woman cocked her head. "Did I ever say that?"
"You did. You said that I would have to give it up before I could conceive. That I can't have both."
"Ah, so it seems that I did. My bad. I was just telling you how difficult it will be. Or maybe," she looked at the green girl with mischief in her eyes. "I was just pulling your leg. After all, how can you get a baby just by giving up your sorcery skills? You read too much into my worthless mumblings, little girl. Haven't you told me before that your fate is in your hands?" The old woman told her, her shoulders shaking with laughter. "I can see the possibilities in your future, but you are the one who will determine which path your future takes."
She let the information sink in.
"Congratulations, by the way. Though I have to warn you that that the boy will be a handful. You'll be glad then of all the help that you can get. But it'll be worth it once you see what he can accomplish, what you can accomplish as a family."
"Nanny will be there."
"Nanny is too old to run after that boy. He'll run as fast as your best horses." She chuckled at her own joke. "He'll need a father figure."
Elphaba looked away, pretending to be interested in the activities in the stables. "I'll be his mother. And father." Perhaps the ache would lessen as time passed, but she doubted that she would ever open up to another man again.
"Really?" the old woman chuckled.
Another thought came to her then. Why Yackle knew so much about her. Why did she grow younger as the years went by instead of older. Who she was. She turned to Yackle again, but one of the doors of the farmstead opened just then, reflecting the sunlight from the morning sun. She raised a hand to block the sunlight from blinding her, and Yackle was gone when she let down her hand.
"Why are you up so early, Fabala?" Nanny called from the distance.
Elphaba looked around, but the other woman was nowhere to be found.
"What are you looking for?"
"Nothing, Nanny," Elphaba replied as she made her way towards her nanny.
"I'm hungry, Fabala. And I'm sure you are too. We got to fill our stomachs before we board the train. I'm going to ask them to pack some of that delicious scones for us to bring along."
Elphaba reached the older woman, looping her arm through hers as she helped Nanny hobbled back to the house.
"I'm sure they will, Nanny."
"And the muffins too."
Elphaba laughed. "Yes, Nanny."
The servant opened the door, letting the elders in. A man sat behind the table that was usually occupied by their king, but he was not their king. This was their tenth meeting so far, and some of them could still taste the sour taste that the first meeting had left on their tongues.
"What a bunch of sullen kids. Is there how you greet your king in the morning? By showing your surly face?" He propped his legs on the table.
"You're not our king."
"Of course, I'm not your king. Any idiot can see that. I'm smarter, richer and more handsome than him." He let the murmurs died down before he continued. "But your king is busy right now traipsing all over Oz looking for the love of his life and have appointed me as his Grand Vizer, so I'm in charge now."
Someone mumbled something inaudible.
"I can't hear you," the Grand Vizer hollered, pointing to the back of the group. "Can you speak louder, please? The one at the back?"
The man mumbled again.
"I hear you now. Is that what you think? That it'll be good if he didn't find her? And what do you think will happen next if the trail goes cold? He will continue, you morons," he emphasized the last word, taking satisfaction at how it ruffled their feathers. "He'll continue to track her, pick up her trail again, and Oz knows how long it will take before he finds her again. And meanwhile, you have me to deal with. Or you can pray hard that he'll find her and convince her that he is worth another chance. I know that girl. She's soft-hearted. She'll persuade him to come back. You'll have to deal with her then, and give up your hope of the king marrying your daughter or niece or wife or mistress or even your mother. But you'll have your nice, kind-hearted king back. And I would like to remind you that dealing with Elphaba is definitely much better than dealing with me."
He let the murmurs died down before he continued.
"No matter how brilliant I am, I can only hold the fort for so long before someone will say I am not Vinkun, and brought forward another family to rule. And I'd like to see how that will work out for every single one of you – " Avaric Tenmeadows wiggled his finger at the elders before him, thoroughly enjoying himself. "When that happens."
The train had left the station some time ago. Most of the passengers had settled down, though a handful was still trying to store their luggage at the overhead compartment, while others were still moving through the carriages looking for their assigned seats.
Nanny was seated beside her. The older woman had dozed off minutes ago. The sun was shining in from the other side of the train, and Elphaba draped a shawl over her sleeping form. The green girl had changed into a loose dark dress, a hat with a veil that covered her face, and gloves that covered her green hands. To the other passengers, she was just a passenger travelling with an elderly relative, someone whom they would forget the moment they looked away. No one would remember seeing her.
She looked out of the window. They were passing pastoral lands, through rolling green fields dotted with grazing cows and sheep. It would take them a few days before the train reached their destination. Elphaba and Nanny would hop off and look for a carriage to rent. Elphaba unfolded the map from her luggage and poured over the map, planning where to go next.
A shadow fell over her.
"Is this seat taken?"
She looked up and saw a pair of familiar blue eyes.
~ The Heartless Prince ~
~ A Wicked fanfiction ~
~ drafted : 3 Oct 2016 - 3 Jul 2019 ~
~ Posted : 11 Aug 2019 - 27 Jun 2021 ~
AN : Thank you to all who have read and reviewed, I hope you have enjoyed the story. And just to share, there will be a one-shot epilogue, for those who wants more fluff and a wrap up on the other couple :D