A/N: Thank you to my reviewers, and those who favourited! I really appreciate your time.

Fae'sFlower - I'm glad you like Mareem! I hadn't thought of it that way, but I suppose she is quite motherly. Elphaba definitely deserves a mother-figure in her life Mareem is one of those characters who just popped up out of nowhere in my head! It's like she already has a mind of her own, and I'm just the scribe.

This chapter contains a small nod to the wonderfully underrated Anne Bronte. If anyone can spot it I will be very impressed And I may have to kiss you for being one of few to appreciate the oft-forgotten youngest Bronte sister.

"Oh, Fabala, he was wonderful!" Nessa rattled on excitedly as Elphaba brushed out her chestnut hair. "He was handsome and charming, and so well-behaved! I cannot imagine half the things we have heard about him are true. I simply cannot believe that the man I met this evening would be capable of such awful things. Why, the papers would have us believe him degenerate! And yet he was a perfect gentleman to me-"

Elphaba interrupted her sister mid-flow. "Of course – these sorts always are, at first. Depend upon a rogue for a beguiling manner." Her tone was light, but there was an edge to the remark. Even if Prince Fiyero had behaved as well as Nessa claimed, she wasn't ready to drop all her mistrust of the Prince's intentions. Ever since he had smiled at her during dinner, her head had been reeling, trying to make sense of it all. She didn't like feeling like someone had one-up on her, and she couldn't shake the feeling that the Prince was enjoying some private joke at her expense. If only she knew what he had meant by it – if only she could figure him out. If she knew what his game was, she could arm herself. Put him in his place. But until she did, she was at his mercy, and this fact unsettled her deeply.

"Oh, Fabala," Nessa sighed mournfully. "You mustn't say such things, especially before meeting His Highness for yourself."

"I doubt I shall ever meet him," Elphaba's words were clipped. "Not until you marry him and spending time around me is unavoidable."

"Fabala!"

"I'm sorry, Nessie. But it's true. And you know I would never judge a person before I know enough about them. But you're my little sister. Can you blame me for wanting to protect you?"

Nessa simpered at this, then turned around from the mirror to pat Elphaba's hand. "I know you want to protect me, Elphaba. But could you at least try to get to know Prince Fiyero for yourself? For me?"

Elphaba bit her tongue. She still didn't think she would ever be allowed in the Prince's society for long enough to know what he was really like. But she would be keeping an eye on him, as much as she could from a distance. And heaven help His Highness if she saw anything to make her doubt his character, or his proper conduct toward Nessa. "I'll try to give him a chance," was what she eventually settled for.

Nessa seemed to accept this, and she blushed with pleasure, like roses blossoming in her cheeks. "I know you will grow to esteem him!" she said with feeling.

Elphaba grunted. Only time would tell.

"I'm ready for bed now," Nessa announced.

Elphaba put down the brush on her sister's vanity, and carefully removed Nessa's leg braces, lifting her sister gently out of her chair. Nessa was very light, and it caused her little exertion to do so. Elphaba herself was much taller than Nessa, less soft, and moreover, she was used to carrying her. Tucking Nessa in, she placed a kiss on her forehead. "Goodnight, my pretty."

Nessa giggled. "Goodnight, Fabala."

Elphaba left the room, sighing with relief that the day was over. She placed her hands on her lower back and groaned, trying to relax her tight muscles. Father, she knew, would be in the parlour at this time of the evening, and tonight, Prince Fiyero would be with him. Mareem had promised to take care of the evening duties; locking up, sorting any general disarray which had resulted during the day and laying out the breakfast crockery, as well as planning the next day's schedule. It was really far too much for the elderly woman to do by herself, and Elphaba had told her so. Mareem was insistent, however, and for all her objections, the older had silenced the younger after an enthusiastic half-hour battle, in which Elphaba had finally surrendered with her tail between her legs. It was sweet, really. Mareem had been so concerned at the early hour she had arisen that morning that she had vowed she would hear no nonsense from her young friend.

"Remember, Elphaba," she had said. "I was a nurse in the war where I met m'late husband, an' keepin' that lad – an' all them other lads – out of trouble has given me a body of iron to this day." Winking, "now, won't you stand aside and let this iron lady handle a few extra tasks?"

So, her evening free for the first time in a while, Elphaba decided to retreat to the library and seek some solace in her Father's books. The library lay conveniently at the back of the mansion, far away from the parlour, so there was minimal risk of interruption. Elphaba allowed a small smile to creep onto her face, as she all but skipped to the large, inviting sofa tucked away in a hidden corner of the vast library. Only Elphaba bothered with this particular corner, which was largely ignored, and dare she suspect it, almost forgotten by the Governor. A feeling almost of coming home embraced her as her eyes landed on the rip on the cushion she knew so well, its stuffing poking out. Old, worn and ugly in comparison with the elegance of the rest of the mansion, it was like an old friend. Elphaba grabbed the book she had left there, the page she was on marked with a piece of string smuggled from the cupboard, and sank happily down. She frowned a little as she attempted to get comfortable – her back seemed to have a vendetta against her – and wiggled down so she was lying prostrate with the book held in the air above her head.

The book was entitled A Recent History of Ozian Economics and Foreign Relations, and had in fact been newly acquired by her Father. Elphaba would absorb all the information she could from this and other books, whether she be required to make use of the knowledge or not. Knowledge, to Elphaba, was an end in and of itself, and one of few luxuries she was able to enjoy. It was through this particular book that she had come to know the details of the economic crash in Munchkinland which had brought the Prince of the Vinkus to Colwen Grounds.

Beginning to lose herself in the book, Elphaba was suddenly startled out of her bubble upon hearing a frightful crash, followed by a yell, although she couldn't tell from where it came. Alarmed, she jolted upright and dropped the book. The sound hadn't seemed to have come from within the library. Elphaba sat motionless and listened. Silence. Then there was shuffling from somewhere – outside the door? Cautiously, Elphaba rose and crept from her spot of seclusion. The low rumble of a voice reached her ears, and – was that a – meow?

Bewildered, Elphaba pressed her ear against the large wooden door, holding her breath lest she make a sound.

Yes! A meow! But surely not...

Suddenly overcome with curiosity, Elphaba swung the door open, and the sight that met her eyes stopped her in her tracks. Her eyes widened. As she registered what she was looking at, a green hand pressed against her mouth and she tried desperately to swallow a cackle.

At her feet, in a pile of limbs, fur and cloth was sprawled Fiyero Tiggular of the Vinkus and a small black cat.

The Prince looked up, and when she saw the look on his face, a combination of disgruntlement, wounded pride and the chagrin of a schoolboy being caught snooping, she couldn't help it. A laugh burst from her lips.

The Prince's face contorted when he realised she was laughing at him, and he scowled, getting up from the floor with an air of dignity. "Well," he spoke. "I wonder how you would feel if the roles were reversed in this scenario." He brushed himself down and peeled the white cloth off that he had become entangled in. Silently, he moved to replace it, and Elphaba realised the cloth had come from a small mahogany table by the door, which usually held an ornate vase her Father had procured on a visit to the Glikkus some years ago – it was now lying on the floor, shattered. Prince Fiyero blanched. "Was that vase expensive?"

Elphaba schooled her expression into seriousness. "No. It was just an old relic from a second-hand shop."

The Prince's face seemed to melt with relief.

Elphaba cackled. "Yes, it was expensive. And now, I suppose, you'll have to pay for it. Not to mention explain to my F- the Governor why you broke it."

He looked dismayed. "I don't suppose I can blame you – tell him you distracted me, and I ran into the table?"

Elphaba bristled. "Distracted by the green, you mean? No thank you. I get blamed enough as it is."

He quickly shook his head. "No, I didn't mean that. I think your skin is... interesting."

Elphaba snorted. "Interesting. Thanks."

The Prince looked frustrated. "No, I meant... never mind." He shook his head. A meow sounded, and Elphaba looked down, realising the cat was batting its head against her ankle.

Prince Fiyero moved to scoop it up. "Um, sorry."

"So, the cat?" Elphaba asked, raising an eyebrow.

The Prince's trepidation was immediately replaced with a boyish grin. "Ah, well. You see, I wasn't sure if Governor Thropp would approve of cats, so I... smuggled Cowper in?"

Elphaba's brow furrowed. "Cowper?"

"Yeah. My sister named him. Cowper is a poet from the Wizard's world, apparently. My sister thought it was a romantic name for a cat."

"You're right."

The Prince's face brightened. "I am?"

Elphaba smirked. "Cowper will never last a moment once he's found."

His face fell, and for a brief moment, Elphaba almost felt guilty. "I'm not certain I want to know how you ended up on the floor."

"Well, that was Cowper, you see," he explained cheerfully. "He ran away from me, and in the process of trying to grab him, I... knocked the table." He had the decency to look sheepish. "Yeah. Then he ran under my legs, and I tripped." The reality of what he had done seemed to dawn on him, and fear passed through his eyes. "This is a big deal, isn't it? I've only been here a few hours, and already I'm breaking the Governor's property."

Elphaba didn't know what to say. That vase had indeed been valuable, and her Father was not a forgiving man. When one added to this his existing suspicion of Prince Fiyero, and the fact he was only here out of pure necessity, the odds for Fiyero Tiggular did not look good. She considered for a moment.

"Nothing to be done about it now. You had better return to the parlour. Perhaps you ought to wait to explain what happened until the morning."

The Prince looked visibly sick at the prospect of owning up.

Elphaba took pity on him. "Come. Can you find your way to your chamber? Or perhaps you ought to give Cowper to me, to hide in mine. He will not be found there." She didn't know what possessed her to make the offer. It was not in her nature to be charitable. But the offer was made, and she couldn't take it back now.

The Prince looked thrilled however. "Would you? Thank you! I'll pay you back."

Elphaba shifted uncomfortably. "No need. Just hand him to me."

He did. Cowper was soft, and his fur glassy. Elphaba found herself running her fingers through his fur. "He's beautiful."

The Prince beamed. "He is." Suddenly, his face contorted, and he gasped. "I never introduced myself!" Slipping easily into his charismatic persona, he bowed deeply, and grasped her hand, kissing it. Elphaba gasped and tugged her hand away. He didn't notice. "Fiyero Tiggular, pleased to make your acquaintance, ma'am."

Elphaba looked at him as though he had a screw loose.

He watched her reaction, amused. He had yet to fully come back up from his bow. "This is where you tell me your name," he hinted helpfully.

She scoffed. "Elphaba."

"Well then, Elphaba," he arose to his full height. "Perhaps you would be so kind as to escort me back to the parlour?"

"I'll take Cowper back to my room first, unless you want him to be seen. Wait here. Don't touch anything."

He made a show of sitting down in the middle of the floor with his legs folded, hands locked together in his lap, and looked at her innocently.

Elphaba turned on her heel and marched off before she could – Oz forbid – smile at his childlike antics.

The heels of her boots clacked as she made her way down the hall, and she grimaced, trying to lighten her steps. She had never had cause to be concerned about the sound she made walking – today, however, she was convinced that someone would hear her and come to investigate. And if they found her with Cowper, no one would stop to ask where she got him. She wasn't fool enough to believe that Prince Fiyero would actually admit to owning the cat.

When she made it to her room, she released a sigh of relief, and surveyed the cramped space, seeking somewhere to put him. There was a small window above her bed – she supposed Cowper would easily be able to jump onto the window sill from her bed, and so she closed it. What did one feed a cat? She could sneak some milk in a dish up here for him. That would have to do in the meantime. There was an old crate underneath her bed that held some of her books. These, she could remove and place on the window sill for now. She placed Cowper on her bed and did so, then transferred him to the crate. She would need to find some of Father's old newspapers to place in the bottom. In truth, she had no idea how to toilet train a cat. She could only hope he would realise the crate's purpose and not spread his excrement all over her floor. Perhaps Fiyero would know how to go about this. She would have to ask him.

Elphaba stopped and stood still for a moment, realising that she had just referred to the Prince in her head by his given name. She shook herself. She didn't want to think about that right now.

Having fetched the milk and newspaper, Elphaba discretely shut her door and went to find the Prince. He was still in the exact position she left him, looking at her expectantly.

"Well, Your Highness. Your cat is well hidden for now."

Prince Fiyero grinned and began to lift himself on the floor, then hesitated, looking at her inquiringly. "Can I move now?"

Elphaba snorted in amusement. "Yes, Your Highness. You have permission to get up."

His grin widened, almost to the point of taking over his entire face, and Elphaba was startled to feel her heart skip a beat. He leapt to his feet.

"You'll have to tell me how in Oz I'm supposed to care for a cat," she continued. "I've never had a pet. But there's no time for that now. I gave him milk in the meantime."

"Thanks, Elphaba. It means a lot to me that you're willing to do this."

She waved him away nonchalantly. "Follow me, and you can return to the parlour."

The Prince followed Elphaba through a maze of hallways, until she paused outside the large, ornate door to the parlour. She turned to face him. "Here we are, Your Highness."

She expected him simply to enter the room immediately, but instead, he watched her closely, suddenly much quieter. A small smile tugged on his lips. "So, you were the mysterious spy during dinner?"

Elphaba felt winded, as all the air left her in a fell swoop. "Um..."

He laughed musically. "It's quite alright. I didn't tell the Governor, or Miss Nessarose, if you were wondering."

Elphaba closed her eyes, relief flooding her.

"I'll leave you to return to your duties now, but I suppose I will be seeing you around, Elphaba?"

Elphaba's gaze flickered to his, startled, and her eyes narrowed. Then it hit her, and she looked down at her attire, chagrined, her heart sinking. He must have assumed her to be a servant. She could not blame him. Her ill-fitting black frock, boots and practical braid certainly didn't fit what a Governor's daughter might be expected to look like. She wondered whether her Father had mentioned her to the Prince at all, and what he may have given him to believe. She was surprised by how much that knowledge hurt. Then she remembered he had asked her a question. "Oh. Yes, I suppose so." Her voice sounded faint, and she couldn't look at him. She sensed rather than saw his confusion at the change in her demeanour. Thankfully, he decided not to comment.

Before he could reply, however, she fled. The air around her suddenly felt stifling.

Before long, she found herself back outside the library door, without any conscious idea of why she had returned there. Elphaba was mortified to realise that her face suddenly felt wet. Gingerly, she lifted her hand to her cheek. A tear. Angrily, she brushed it away, her hand shaking imperceptibly. She had always known her Father hated her. Of course, it made sense that he would neglect to mention his green witch of a daughter in the presence of royalty. So why did that now bother her so much? She had given up crying over it years ago. Crying never did any good. Confused and frustrated, she took in a shaky breath and endeavoured to regain control.

Her eyes landed on the broken vase still on the floor, and a thought suddenly occurred to her. Racking her brain, she searched for what spells she knew from pouring over all the sorcery books she could find. She had had very little opportunity to practice her skills, but perhaps there was something...

There.

Closing her eyes in concentration, Elphaba allowed the words to spill from her lips, her hand lifting towards the pieces of ceramic.

At first, nothing seemed to happen, but then she felt something like a rush of wind blowing through her body, whispering against her fingertips as if seeking a way out. Elphaba felt a twinge of panic, but she quickly grasped onto the sensation, and worked on channelling it in the direction she wanted it to go. Slowly, slowly, she sensed the power bending to her will and flowing through her body from her core. With immense effort, she kept a hold of that control, refusing to let it overwhelm her. She felt her arms begin to tremble with the struggle. Then, with a final breath out through her mouth, she let it go.

The power coursed through her, and she almost stumbled, but held her ground.

The feeling became less.

Less.

It trickled back into her veins, the momentum gone, and the power returning back to its slumber.

Suddenly, Elphaba was exhausted. But she opened her eyes.

The vase was back on the table, in just as good condition as it had been previously. In fact, there was no sign that anything had been amiss. She revelled in a moment of pride.

She would have to tell Prince Fiyero that their little vase problem was solved. Not tonight, though. She couldn't summon the courage to return to the parlour. It would have to wait until tomorrow. Surely, the Prince would not be overly eager to confess to Father anyway? She had time.

Her limbs like lead, she dragged herself back to her chamber. Sleep sounded very welcome right now.

A/N: You could consider Cowper an OC I do, anyway. We'll be seeing more of Cowper.