A/N: Here we are with an update now that my uni work is done! We'll get to see Fiyero in this chapter Hope you enjoy.
Mareem is my own character, the rest belong to Gregory Maguire.
Elphaba was not permitted to be around for Prince Fiyero's arrival. Of course. It was one of the rare times when Frex said no to his youngest daughter, but evidently, his need to keep Elphaba and her monstrous skin out of sight – for the Prince's arrival, at least – trumped even his compulsion to give Nessa whatever she asked. So, she was banished to the kitchen for the evening. At least she had Mareem, the housekeeper to keep her company.
Mareem had served the Thropps for almost thirty years, and was an elderly woman by now, but she was still strong as an ox and capable as ever of managing the household; although, ever since Elphaba had been old enough, she had done most of the managing. Elphaba liked Mareem immensely. She was the only person in the estate that she felt almost comfortable with. Perhaps it was that her tongue was as sharp as her's, or that she didn't give a whit about appearances, or status, or power. Whatever it was, Elphaba truly felt she had a kindred spirit in Mareem, and there were days when the old woman would be the only thing giving her the courage to keep going.
"Well, I for one think this whole fiasco is balderdash," Mareem was saying as she checked how well the goose was cooking. "Giving little Nessa in marriage to the royal charm-'er-stockings-off prince of Oz? Balderdash," she punctuated the last word with a clatter as the fork she was holding landed on the table with a bounce. "It would never've happened if yer Father hadn't been such a fool as to try'n trap the Vinkun royals in that sour deal – pardon my saying so, love. And you know that anythin' spoken in these here four walls doesn't leave here." Mareem's greying hair stuck out like straw around her generous forehead, and her grey-green eyes sparkled as she ranted.
Elphaba was opposite her, working on mixing the spices for dinner. In a little under an hour, the Prince was expected to arrive, and everything had to be ready for six o clock prompt when the family would sit down to eat. Elphaba, of course, was excluded from meals for the duration of Prince Fiyero's visit. And as much as she itched to catch just a glimpse of him, they had agreed it would be best if Mareem was the one to serve. Of course, this was only on the condition that Mareem gave her the full low-down when she returned.
"Don't feel bad for insulting Father, Mareem," she replied, an amused cackle escaping her lips. "As long as you only say such things to me, and not to him. I'd hate for something to happen to you." The thought had crossed her mind before. With Mareem's tongue, and her intolerance for anything she deemed "nonsense," it was a constant low-lying fear that one day she would slip up and tell the Governor exactly what she thought of him. And she was protective of Elphaba too. Elphaba thanked Providence daily that Mareem didn't know the extent of her Father's treatment of her – or at least, she was pretty sure she didn't. Elphaba shuddered.
"Oh, fear not. I like my job, and I like you, my dear. I'm not about to go wasting that."
Of that, at least, Elphaba was certain. Mareem had been at Colwen Grounds for so long she was almost part of the furniture. But it would be difficult, if not impossible for her to find another situation at her age if her Father were to turn her out. She would not be treated kindly out in the world. And although she had a grown daughter who would take her in if it came to it, her daughter lived in Quox with eight children all under the age of twelve. The journey would not be easy for Mareem, and then there was no certainty that her son-in-law, a blacksmith, would be able to afford another mouth to feed. Besides that, Mareem was proud. She didn't intend to be dependent upon anyone until she was at death's door, and even then she would fight to her dying breath to retain her independence. It was one of the things that Elphaba admired most about the housekeeper.
"I worry about Nessa," Elphaba spoke quietly. "She has no concept of what the world is really like. And if the Prince is really as bad as they say he is..." she trailed off.
Mareem clucked her tongue. "Don't fret, Elphaba. It may not come to marriage, ye know. No firm deal has been signed yet. As much as I disapprove of yer Father, he does value his treasure. If the Prince is really a wild 'un, he may call off the arrangement."
"But if he does, the King and Queen of the Vinkus will cut off trade. I know enough to know that Munchkinland cannot afford the loss of such a major trading partner. Especially now."
Mareem put down the knife she'd been using to chop the potatoes and wiped her hands on a towel, making her way around the table to embrace Elphaba. "Don't you worry, my love," her voice was rough with age and experience as she tenderly rubbed circles in Elphaba's back.
Elphaba sank into her arms, longing to crawl into bed and shut everything out for a while.
"No point in worryin' about a future that ha'n't even come knockin' yet," Mareem continued, gentle affection in her tone. She knew that Elphaba was prone to accepting the weight of the world on her shoulders, and it wasn't healthy. Elphaba was only eighteen, but she worried like an old matron. "Now," she stepped back. "Chin up, lass." Grasping the green girl's chin, she lifted it to meet her eye. "Let's knock 'em dead with that roast goose, eh?"
Elphaba laughed and whacked Mareem affectionately with her apron.
…
Elphaba paced impatiently alone in the kitchen as she waited for Mareem to return from serving dinner. The Prince had now been at Colwen Grounds for almost two hours, and she had yet to catch a glimpse of him. She gnawed on her bottom lip almost without realising what she was doing, only stopping when she heard Mareem's heavy footsteps approaching.
"Well," as she entered the room. "I think our cooking was a hit. You would think Princey had never seen food in his life, the way he ogled that goose. I can't imagine what the cook at the Vinkus castle feeds him. Well, we'll show 'im what real food is, ey Elphaba?" nudging her conspiratorially.
"What was he like?" Really, Elphaba? She chided herself. That was the first thing you could think to ask?
Mareem didn't bat an eyelid, however. "Badly in need of fattening up, if you ask me. I'm sure I could count all his ribs through that tight shirt. An' he looked a little out of place, alone in that big room with yer Father and Nessarose. Poor soul looked awful forlorn. Not that I can blame 'im for that, now. The Governor can be awful intimidating when he has a mind to be."
Elphaba grimaced. She knew that all too well. "Did Nessa seem to like him?"
"Ay, seemed that way. Smiling at 'im across the dinner table like he was the best thing since sliced bread. Can't blame her. He's a looker."
Elphaba rolled her eyes discretely. A person's character could be entirely overlooked if they were the least bit attractive. No doubt Prince Fiyero was used to having girls fall at his feet, gambling habit or no gambling habit. Not her, of course. Naturally, no man had ever sought Elphaba's affection. Any man with good sense would have to be blind, or desperate – or both – to lay his cap at the feet of the Governor's green daughter. And she could never love a man who refused to use his brain, even if he did have a face that could break hearts across Oz.
"Well, when will we get to see him, Mareem?" she asked.
Mareem grinned like a fiend. "Now, if you like, love. I left the dining room door open a tad." With that, she picked up a towel and swatted Elphaba's rear in the direction of the door.
Laughingly, Elphaba obliged. She was curious. Spying on the Prince wasn't that much of a crime, was it? What other entertainment was she to expect in her life, after all?
Palms sweating slightly in spite of herself, Elphaba crept along the corridor towards the dining room. This was ridiculous. She felt like a naughty child sneaking a cookie during the night – she remembered reading that this was something children sometimes did. She had never dared to do something like that before. It seemed so petty to risk getting beaten because you were hungry. Here she was however, sneaking a glimpse of the Prince of the Vinkus. She could only hope she didn't get caught with her hand in the jar. About to lose her nerve, she glanced over her shoulder at where Mareem's hawk-like eyes were following her by the kitchen door. Mareem seemed to have no such qualms about this – she merely grinned at her. Elphaba shot her an exasperated look, but turned back around, heading around the corner and out of Mareem's sight.
The dining room lay just down this hall. She could hear subdued voices emanating from the room as she approached, her footsteps light as a cat's. She couldn't make out what anyone was saying, but the voices were getting louder, and at last she reached the door.
Taking a breath to steady herself, Elphaba peered through the crack of the slightly open door. The scene before her blurred slightly as her eyes adjusted, then started to come into focus. Her father and Nessa had their backs to her, and a man who she assumed was the Prince sat opposite the Governor. She was looking at an angle which meant that much of the room was difficult to make out, but somehow, she could view the Prince's face perfectly.
He had caramel hued hair which seemed to have been artfully styled, and his features were regular, his nose long and his jaw defined. No wonder Nessa was so taken with him. And the rest of Oz. The Prince was the textbook definition of 'handsome.' She saw his lips move, and assumed he was answering a question Father had asked him, although they were still speaking too quietly to be heard. His white shirt emphasised his biceps, and his shoulders were broad. He was perfect – too perfect. Something about his demeanour unsettled Elphaba. She couldn't quite put her finger on what it was, but there was something about this picture that wasn't right. She frowned in contemplation.
At that precise moment, the Prince looked up, and for just a second he caught her gaze. Elphaba's heart leapt into her throat, and her face suddenly felt cold. No! He'd noticed her. All it would take now was for him to say something to her Father and...
But Prince Fiyero didn't say anything to her Father, and he didn't look upset in any way. Instead, his face broke out in a grin. Elphaba gasped and all but bolted away from the door, escaping to the kitchen as quickly and quietly as she could.
He had smiled at her. What did that mean? Was he mocking her? DId he notice the green? Please, Oz, let him not have noticed the green. If he said anything to her Father now, it was all over. She took in an unsteady breath, her heart still beating furiously, and decided not to return to the kitchen, all but fleeing upstairs.