It was around the thirtieth lash that Fiyero started losing consciousness. He'd been tied to these poles for hours now while they did everything they could to get information out of him. They'd punched him, whipped him, prodded him with their spears, but nothing worked. There was no way in Oz that he was going to tell them where his Fae had gone. Now he was falling into his own thoughts to numb the pain.

He could sense the guards were tiring, too. His men weren't really trained for stamina, especially not in interrogation. These Emerald City men were used to getting their way, so his silence must have been frustrating and exhausting for them. They were a lot like Glinda that way.

Oh Oz, Glinda. He still couldn't believe all the things he'd done to her in the last few days. He pointed a gun at her a few hours ago. Lurline, what was he thinking?

He hadn't been really. As much as Elphaba had changed him and his thought patterns, or lack thereof, there were still times he fell into the brainless Winkie prince mentality again. Apparently being brainless with a cause was dangerous for the ones you loved. He did love Glinda, just not in the way he thought he had or she wanted him to.

"All this time? The two of you, behind my back?" she'd said, heart clearly breaking with every syllable.

"No! It wasn't like that," Fae responded.

"Well, it was… kind of," he said, gun still in hand.

Dumb Winkie prince. Not only did you have to go break her heart, but you turned her against her best friend as well? Now Nessa was dead, and it was all his fault.

Another excruciating crack of the whip against his back brought him painfully into focus.

"Tell us where she went!" one of his men yelled at him. He was too tired to try to figure out who. Fiyero was too tired, full stop. He wished they would just kill him already so he could get this over with.

No. No, he couldn't let that happen. He had promised Elphaba that they would always be together. He didn't know how he was supposed to manage that now, but he couldn't cave in so easily. He'd take whatever damage they had to inflict on him. Fae wouldn't go down without a fight, and neither would he.

He forced himself to pull up his head and look the leader of his torturers in the eye. Envir raised his eyebrows, seemingly relieved to be getting some kind of reaction. Fiyero smirked a little before opening his mouth and spitting in the man's face.

"Ugh, that's enough!" Envir shouted, wiping his face. "Twenty more lashes, and if he still doesn't want to talk, leave him to rot." He approached Fiyero and stood right under him, as close to his face as he could get. "Let's see how long he lasts without any powerful women to protect him."

Fiyero passed out after the seventh.

He woke up and he was sure he was dead. He didn't feel any pain and that could only be possible if he was dead, right? Fifty hits with a whip could kill you, couldn't they?

But he couldn't be dead. He'd promised Elphaba. He almost cursed before actually taking in his surroundings and seeing he was still hanging in the cornfield. They really had left him there to rot, didn't they? Perhaps they thought he was dead like Fiyero himself had. He craned his neck to look around and saw the sun was low in the sky, though whether it was setting or rising, he couldn't tell. How long had he been up there? Maybe he'd been up there long enough for his wounds to simply heal on their own.

He could hear Elphaba laughing at him now. He couldn't have been there that long.

Fiyero turned his head to see if he could figure out how to get himself down from this pole. He saw his hand, but he was confused as to why there was a glove on it now. He hadn't been wearing gloves before, he was pretty sure. He shook his head, realizing he had more pressing problems. He felt really light-headed when he did that, and it made him wonder again just how long he'd been out here. He knew he needed water or food, but surprisingly he wasn't hungry or thirsty. That was strange. Fiyero on a regular day had the appetite of a few horses, and after being beaten within an inch of his life, preceded by spending a couple nights on the run with Fae —who, as much as he loved her, did not eat nearly as much or as often as Fiyero was used to— should have left him starving.

When had his life taken such a bizarre turn?

Of course, he knew the answer to that. Lion Cub day. The day Elphaba saw through his facade and he knew he couldn't keep it up any longer.

Focus, Fiyero. Use that dumb princey brain of yours. How are you getting out of this?

He pulled against the rope binding his wrist to the pole, but found he could get no slack from it. He also found he could no longer feel the chafing from his wrists that had caused him so much pain before he'd passed out. What in Oz was going on?

He heard barking in the distance and thought the Gale Force had returned to make sure they finished the job of getting rid of him. He hung his head and pretended to be knocked out again.

"What is it, Toto?" Fiyero heard a voice ask, one that he was sure didn't belong to any member of the guard. It was a girl.

The barking drew closer as he heard something crashing through the stalks of corn. A few moments later, a small grey dog was at Fiyero's feet, barking up at him.

"Come back here, Toto!" the girl said again, and Fiyero could guess from the sound of crunching that she was following her dog into the corn.

From what he could see with his head hanging down, the girl came to pick up her dog, who continued barking at Fiyero. "It's just a scarecrow, Toto. We have those back at home."

A scarecrow?

The girl turned and began to walk away. "We have to get back on the Yellow Brick Road so we can go see the Wizard and he can take us home. You heard what Glinda said."

Glinda? What did this girl have to do with Glinda?

It didn't matter, though, because his chance at escape was walking away.

Fiyero righted himself before calling, "Excuse me, miss?"

The girl yelped before turning around, and Toto took this chance to jump out of her arms and run back over to Fiyero. "Did you just talk?"

"Yes? I could use some help getting down, if you'd be so kind." He was going to get out of here and get back to Fae.

"B-but, you're a scarecrow! How are you talking?"

He was a what?

"I'm just as confused as you are, but if you could help me down, I'd greatly appreciate it."

"O-okay," she muttered, slowly approaching the pole and leaning up to untie Fiyero's hands.

As soon as she unbound his second hand, Fiyero collapsed to the ground, but his feet were still tied to the pole.

"I'm so sorry!" The girl cried, moving to untie his feet.

But Fiyero didn't respond. That fall hadn't hurt at all. In fact, he hadn't felt anything. And now that he could see his whole body, he knew why.

He was dressed in sacks, which as a prince of the Vinkus, was a first, but that wasn't the problem. He poked himself in the stomach and his finger bent against it. But he knew what he touched wasn't flesh. "It's just a scarecrow, Toto."

Fiyero let out a harsh laugh. She'd done it. Fae had done it. Those fifty lashes should have killed Fiyero, but thanks to Elphaba's genius, he was still alive. She'd made sure they couldn't hurt him anymore.

"Are you alright, sir?" The girl asked.

"I couldn't be happier," Fiyero replied.