Special shout-out to Guest and elphabaoftheopera for spotting the little "Into The Woods" reference.

Fiyero read the letter from his parents over and over. Their words could've sounded comforting on paper, but when he read it in their voices, it was anything but comforting. He didn't know why they would send him a letter printed on the royal letterhead, and stamped with the official royal seal. Perhaps to show how serious they were about this. He could hear their warning tones and see their disapproving looks and rigid postures in his mind.

If he was honest with himself (which he rarely was), he didn't need to see 'From The Desk of Their Royal Majesties, King Raal and Queen Amalie Tigulaar.' in small, yet neat, calligraphy at the top and bottom. He didn't want factual statements on how they were handling the economic crisis. He didn't care how they were doing it, as long as it ended this nightmare sooner and he could get back to his old life. He knew they were doing everything they could to keep the country afloat, but he was too upset to bring himself to care.

There was no apology, though he didn't expect there to be. There was no apology for agreeing to absorb the bulk of the economic collapse so the people wouldn't feel it as much. There was no apology for pulling him out of school (though he wasn't doing very well to begin with). There was no apology for never being there for him when he needed them or –

"Tigulaar, get ya head outta ya ass and come here!" a gruff voice boomed.

He jumped, quickly shoving the letter into his back pocket, and hurried toward the voice. Mr. Khunder wanted him to pick up the kitchen's potato order that was delivered to the loading dock. He was greeted with three heavy sacks and no way to transport them. Carrying them one by one would take too long, and he didn't know where to go for a cart. Despite popular belief (which he helped cultivate), he wasn't that strong.

"Do you need a hand?"

He turned. "Lady Galinda, what are you doing here?" The loading dock of the palace was no place for a lady of her caliber.

She curtsied. "I live here."

"You… live here?"

"As a lady-in-waiting to the heir to the throne."

"The loading dock is the last place you'd be expected to be seen."

"And that's exactly why I'm here. I'm expecting a package, and wanted to personally retrieve it." She looked from the potatoes to Fiyero. "I repeat, do you need a hand?"

He blinked at her. He couldn't picture her heaving a heavy bag over her shoulders and carrying it like it was nothing. Was she stronger than she looked? But he wasn't in a position to refuse. He just hoped no one would see her helping him with this delivery. "Please."

She smiled and chanted a spell as she waved her hand over the sacks. They glowed in a light pink aura before it faded.

"You have magic?"

"Magic runs in the Arduenna family, my mother's side. I'm not as powerful as –" She stopped herself, briefly shifting her gaze and humming until she found a way to change the subject. "You can carry them now."

The prince looked at the sacks before cautiously lifting one. It weighed significantly less, and he was easily able to carry all three at once.

"That spell will only last ten minutes, so you'd better hurry."

"Oh. Thank you."

Galinda not saying who she wasn't as powerful as hung in Fiyero's mind for the rest of the day. Who was she going to say? Were there other magic users in her family? In the palace?

He was forced to forget about the magic when he was sent running around for the rest of the day. By the time he returned to the kitchens for food, it was vacant, save for someone by the sink, who didn't turn around at the new presence in the room. He plopped down at the table, slamming his forehead against his forearms with a groan. He was beyond relieved that the tabloids hadn't caught wind of this new development in his life, or else he'd never hear the end of it for the rest of his life.

"You need a shower."

He looked up at Fae, who was wiping a dish with a towel, staring at him with a scrunched face.

"You smell like you went swimming in –"

"It was a long day in the stables," he interrupted, not willing to hear the rest of her sentence.

"You were in the stables?"

"Cleaning up after the royal carriage pullers." He rested his head on the table. "I hate this."

"I hear they don't try to kick you in the head if you feed them extra carrots."

"All this has been nothing but a joke to everyone." He pushed himself up. "I'm overworked, underpaid –"

"Underpaid?"

He wasn't sure of the exact amount, since whatever money he was making was being sent back to his parents in the Vinkus to stop him from spending it on "frivolities", but he was sure he wasn't getting paid enough to be dealing with this. "That's what I said."

"I'm not getting paid anything."

For some reason, Fiyero chose to ignore that statement, brushing past the fact that she just admitted to working without pay. "And to top it all off, there are large grandfather clocks in, seemingly, every hallway, and they all go off at the exact same time -"

"That is how clocks work."

"And it's extremely loud for no reason." He rested his head on his arms. "I've been trying my best to make this work, and no one takes me seriously."

"I'm being serious."

"So am I, but no one cares. They think that just because I've temporarily lost an allowance, they can treat me like dirt."

"Are they supposed to care, supposed to feel bad this happened to you? Is that what you want?"

"What if I do want it?"

"What would that do? Make you feel better?" She finished her chores, and turned back to him, leaning her hip against the counter. The prince was being overdramatic, and she didn't have the patience for his pity party. "What would you have me say? 'Oh, look at poor Prince Fiyero, forced to work for money.' Or 'Oh, poor prince has to sweat for the first time in his life. How will he survive this torture?'."

"Some sympathy would be nice. Something like, 'I'm sorry this is happening to you'."

"If I had said that, it would've sounded sarcastic."

"Why's that?"

"Because I would've said it sarcastically."

He scowled. "This whole situation isn't my fault."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I never said it was. Though, your reputation for partying and refusing to apply yourself precedes you, and people think –"

"I don't care what they think because they don't know anything. There's a lot of pressure and a lot of sacrificing that comes with being royalty that no one else knows about. They don't understand. You don't understand. And you never will. You're just a kitchen maid."

Darkness flashed across Fae's face for a clock-tick, before disappearing, replaced with blankness. "If that's your view, then you still have a lot to learn. Perhaps your time here will teach you a few things."

Before he could respond, she shoved the clean dish into the cabinet and hurried away, turning off the light in a display of extra annoyance.

Fiyero watched her go with a scowl. Even while he was here, he was still a prince, and felt he deserved some semblance of respect. Royals are still royal, even when they travel from their providence. And he had to figure out a way to make everyone here see that.

Hours later, he was tossing and turning in his bed. It wasn't nearly as comfortable as his mattress at home, or even his bed at Shiz, and he pushed himself up with a grunt. His brain was sending messages to his feet without his complete consent, and soon, he found himself back in the kitchens, going into the fridge and pulling out a glass bottle of milk. It was a cool night, so warm milk was ideal. He stared at the stove for a whole minute before realizing he had no idea how to light it.

"Does His Royal Highness not know how to light a stove?"

He turned to find Fae in a light robe over a simple nightgown and a sky-blue shawl draped over her shoulders, her long, raven hair slightly frizzy and cascading down her back. He looked from the bottle in his hands to the stove, to back at her. "I was also considering cold milk… given the heat."

"It's winter."

"The heat is on."

"It's considerate of you to not want to wake the other servants, but we can't have you burning the kitchen down." She pulled out a small pan and lit the fire underneath it. "Pour some for me, too, please." She paused. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble for Your Royal Highness to assist a kitchen maid."

He'd never experienced the urge to throw someone in the dungeons before, but that got him. He wanted to yell at her, to remind her that he was still royalty and had a bloodline that can be traced back for centuries, but stood silent, watching as steam slowly rose from the warming milk.

Fae turned and, realizing Fiyero wasn't going to help her, sighed out a groan and grabbed the two mugs herself. She turned the stove off and poured the milk, practically shoving Fiyero's into his hands before sitting, staring into her mug.

"I owe you an apology." Fiyero's voice was soft as he looked from his mug to Fae.

That got her to lift her gaze to meet his.

"I'm sure you've heard of the economic crisis in the Vinkus, and can deduce why I'm here. I was upset about this whole situation. I still am, but… that was no excuse. I shouldn't have said those things to you. I suppose you think even less of me after this whole stove fiasco. And you have every right to."

He was right. She did have every right to all her negative thoughts about him. But she kept her mouth shut, knowing that it would probably be better to listen to him now.

"I may be a 'playboy prince', but I have a moral compass, and can accept when I've been in the wrong, and correct my behavior. I'm sorry."

"There's a lot no one will ever understand about royals," Fae said in a tone that showed she'd forgiven him, pulling her shawl tighter around her body. "A lot they shouldn't have to understand. If they understood, it would ruin the façade."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I know your type. I can read you like an open book, filled with detailed, intricate, colorful illustrations. No matter how shallow and self-absorbed you pretend to be –"

"Excuse me, there is no pretense here." But there was. He knew it, and he knew she'd caught him, seeing through his crumbling bluff. He had to come up with a comeback quickly. "I happen to be genuinely self-absorbed and deeply shallow."

She chuckled softly, shaking her head. "No, you're not. Or you wouldn't be so unhappy. And I don't mean here." She finished her milk. "You're a prince who has an easier life than most. You're going to inherit a country. What more could you possibly want?"

"Some peace and quiet. I don't like people or politics. I never asked to be a prince. People think it's this glamourous life of parties, beautiful maidens, and bounteous food, and they're right, but that's not the whole story."

"I know."

"How?"

"I live in the palace. I see things. I know things. Uneasy is the head that wears a crown."

"I'm not mentally unstable," he protested indignantly.

"That's not what that quote means." She quickly washed the mugs and put them away. "You shouldn't feel like you have to hide who you truly are… from anyone." She seemed to consider her own words before shaking her head. "I hope the warm milk will help us both sleep. Goodnight, Fiyero."

"Night, Fae."

Galinda hurried down the hall, a small pile of letters clutched in her arms, the ends of her skirt swishing violently against her ankles. She ran on her tiptoes to soften her steps, not wanting her heels echoing. She knocked on the large double doors at the end of the hall, not waiting for permission to enter before twisting the knob and pushing them open.

"Glin, you know the gossip in the society papers isn't an emergency worthy of bursting my doors open."

She closed the door behind her, leaning her back against it. "Princess."

The green girl looked up at the title. Galinda only called her that when she was sent with a message from the Wizard. "Glin –"

"Elphaba, we don't have time. Your father's coming up. Look alive!"

The green girl hurriedly pushed herself up from where she was lounging in her armchair with her novel. Her father rarely came to her room, so whatever he wanted to say must be important. She took off her reading glasses and slipped into her shoes. The blonde tried to fiddle with her hair, but she pushed her away as she cleared off her desk.

"Apron!" Galinda whisper-called, pointing to the cloth on the back of the chair.

Slow footsteps grew louder, and the green girl shoved the apron behind the curtain. The small, white cat who was taking a sun nap on the window seat yelped at being disturbed and hissed at the green girl.

"Sorry, Malky," Elphaba said, giving the cat a quick, yet gentle, pet.

The cat accepted the pets and claimed the apron as his own (it was only fair, seeing as it was chucked at him), and went back to sleep.

She had just enough time to close the curtain before the door opened. A middle-aged man with thinning, grey hair, thin-rimmed glasses, and a rounded physique stepped in, his eyes trained on the green girl.

"Father," Elphaba nodded, seeing her friend curtsy out of the corner of her eye.

"Elphaba," the man greeted softly. "Lady Galinda."

"Your Ozness," Galinda nodded politely before sparing a glance at her friend and focusing on the floor.

"I trust you've recovered from your migraine, Elphaba."

It was Elphaba's turn to spare her friend a glance, which went unnoticed by her father. "Yes, Father."

She knew the drill. Galinda was a master of making up excuses when the Wizard was looking for her. Sometimes she had time to let her know the daily lie, and other times, they could only communicate through looks.

"Well enough to join me for the meeting with the ministers this afternoon, I presume."

Damn. No way out of this. "Yes, Father."

"Come to the conference room in an hour." He nodded and left.

Elphaba waited until she no longer heard his footsteps before collapsing back into her armchair.

"Alright, we've used migraines, stomach bugs, and the Munchkin fever," Galinda said, scribbling in a journal. "Um… you could have dysentery?"

"Too extreme. He'd send for the doctor. What else do we have?"

She tapped her pen against the page. "Well, I figured we shouldn't use 'hysterical blindness' for something as small as a meeting with the ministers. What about… a sprained ankle?"

Elphaba thought about it, then made a face and shook her head. "No. I'll just go with him. I'll be okay."

"You're scheduled for conjunctivitis in two weeks. I could move that up."

"Getting pink-eye in one hour? That won't work. We really shouldn't get into a habit of lying like this."

"You say that like we haven't been doing this for the past six years." She returned the journal to its proper place and sat on the chair's arm. "Elphie," she began sympathetically, "perhaps you should –"

"I know what you're gonna say, and the answer, as always, is no."

"You never know. He might understand and –"

"Or he could take away my freedom. I'm already under house arrest. I might as well be able to roam freely within my confinement."

The blonde rolled her eyes. "Don't be dramatic. This is a palace, Elphie."

"Palace, prison; different place, same strict rules."

"You're impossible." She scoffed, stood, and smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt. "Unless you plan on getting pink-eye or dysentery within the hour, I suggest you get ready for the meeting."

"You don't want to dress me up like one of your dolls?"

She curtsied, playfully flourishing her hand, a funny joke between the two. "I trust I've taught you well. And as I'm the one in charge of your wardrobe, I made sure all choices were acceptable." She flounced out of the room, giving her friend a wave over her shoulder.

Elphaba allowed herself a few moments by herself before freshening up and putting on a white blouse with a long, navy skirt and matching blazer. She reached for her hairbrush, but the creek of her door opening stopped her. She jumped and turned, but softened when she saw her Monkey. "Hi, Chistery. What've you got there?"

"Chisty help," he said, hopping over and shoving a small parcel into her lap.

"Thank you for helping." She scratched the Monkey under his chin and opened the package. When she pulled out a fancy bag filled with silk ribbons, she was confused, then softened slightly. "Chistery?"

"Chisty help," he repeated with a confident grin.

"Yes, but these are for Galinda." She pulled out a long, pink ribbon. "I don't wear pink, no matter how hard she tries to convince me."

Chistery tilted his head, but took the ribbon and went over to the window. He dangled the ribbon over the sleeping cat. "Kitty!"

"Chistery, please don't wake Malky."

The white cat wasn't the biggest fan of Chistery's, and the two often got into fights, but tolerated each other if they weren't antagonized. And antagonize was just the thing Chistery was about to do.

"Chistery, no."

The Monkey dangled the ribbon over the waking cat. Noticing the changing shadows, Malky opened his eyes and meowed at Chistery, swatting at the ribbon. Chistery playfully wiggled it in the air, encouraging the cat to chase after it. He flapped his wings, rising from the floor, and laughed when Malky engaged in the game.

"Chistery, get down!" Elphaba commanded. Her familiar knew her rules about flying in her bedroom, and had no idea why he was disobeying them.

The two animals continued their game around the room, ignoring the princess's cries to stop. The wind from Chistery's wings scattered the papers from Elphaba's desk and knocked books off her bookshelf.

"Enough!" Her voice reverberated throughout the room, and the two abruptly stopped. Chistery crashed to the floor, his wings spasming before stilling. Malky jumped over him and hid, only his ears peeking out from under the wings.

She recognized the familiar, tingly feeling of her powerful magic, but she'd never been able to perform magic with just a single word. She balled her shaking fists, taking deep breaths to calm down, but was pulled back when she heard a quiet whimper.

"Chistery." She knelt in front of the shivering Animal. "Chistery, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

The Monkey was still trying to move his wings, his whimpers growing louder when they stayed locked. He felt Elphaba scoop him into her arms, but jumped back with a frightened screech. "Nonono!"

Elphaba's eyes watered as Chistery scampered out of the room. She had vowed she would rarely use her magic, and never use it near Chistery after what happened last time. She remembered it like it was yesterday; the screams, the tears, the scary, permanent outcome. It was eight years ago, but it continued to haunt her. She went over to the window, locking her hands behind her back, trying to ignore the building headache.

"Elphie?"

She looked at Galinda's reflection through the window, refusing to turn around. "Yes?"

"What happened?"

The green girl smoothed her skirt, her face emotionless. "Nothing. Please take your cat."

Malky hurried over to Galinda and hid under her skirt. The blonde lifted the shaking cat into her arms and looked around the room. She gave her friend a knowing glance before leaving, closing the door behind her.

Elphaba brushed and braided her hair, opting for a simple black headband to keep her flyaways down.

Her hands fidgeted, and she tensed. Wiping her hands on her sides, she forced herself to calm down. She couldn't have her magic popping up right now. She was about to sit through an Oz-knows-how-long meeting with her father, and seeing as her magic wasn't common knowledge, she didn't want it getting out.

Especially to her father. Galinda was the only one who knew about her magic, and she intended on keeping it that way.

Once she was sure she was calm and collected, she left, ignoring all the curtsying and bowing as she passed the servants and other staff. She stopped in front of the door and reached for the handle. Her hand paused a few centimeters from the knob, and she took a deep breath, clearing her head and face of all emotions and feelings. All she had to do was get through this meeting, and whatever else her father had planned for the rest of the day, then she was free. Specifically, free to go back down to the kitchens and see Fiyero.

The prince intrigued her, and while she still found him a bit annoying, whiny, and useless in the kitchen, she made up her mind to get to know him a little bit better.