Mneh. Whatever. Yes, I used the nicknames. Shoot me. I tried to explain why, though.
One week passed, and Rilt refrained from going near his wife. Whenever she saw him coming she would swerve violently and go back the way she had come, or would hurry past him with her head down, her dark hair hiding the face he was itching to touch. It wasn't that he liked her, no, that would be taking things a little too far. It was more like a strange mix of curiosity and perversity getting the better of him, and the fact that, even at his age, a man had desires. And when he had an exotic wife like Elphaba, those desires were easy to fulfil. If only she would let him close enough.
"What can I call you?" Fiyero sighed as he and Elphaba walked towards the stables, slightly closer together than was altogether proper.
"What you always call me, dear. You call me Elphaba." she smiled up at him, perplexed at his sudden fascination with nicknames. Her companion shook his head violently, allowing the dark hair to flop [rather attractively, in her opinion] into his bright eyes.
"But that's not fair. Your family call you Fabala, that Glinda girl calls you Elphie…And Rilt calls you Elphaba, and I'd rather not be in the same category as him, thank you very much." he frowned, spitting on the ground at the mention of the old man.
"Well…I don't know. It's got to be something entirely unrelated to my own name, because I'm entirely different person with you."
"What about…Fae? Yeah, I like that. Fae."
"How did you come up with that one?" she laughed, slipping easily into her new name.
"Well, you're name is really spelled with an 'A' at the start, right? After Saint Aelphaba? And your family call you Fabala, which is really pretty, so you take the 'F' from there, tack the 'ae' from the beginning of Aelphaba, and there you have it. Fae." he grinned at his own logic, and Elphaba grinned back in surprise and delight.
"If you want another way of thinking about it," she mused, "It's like an acronym of our names. 'Fiyero and Elphaba'. F, A, E. Fae." Elphaba laughed, mussing his hair affectionately.
"Either way, you're going to be called Fae from now on. What will you call me?" Fiyero asked eagerly, pausing outside the door of the stable. Elphaba thought for a moment, before beaming gratefully up at him.
"You've been my saviour, my hero, my rescuer. I like the 'Yero' part of your name, so if I say it with an 'ee' sound instead of an 'eh', I can call you 'Yero, my hero'. Yero for short." the young woman explained enthusiastically, and the young man blushed at the idea of being her 'redeemer'.
"Okay, then. Fae and Yero, Yero and Fae. In a resistance against the world."
"Resistance against my husband, resistance against my aunt, resistance against the damn WIZARD, for all I care!" Elphaba shouted brazenly, before Fiyero smothered her dangerous cries with his willing lips. She yielded immediately, happy to abandon her political views to pursue a more enjoyable activity such as this.
From the window of her chamber, Queen Biaxana regarded the events with calm surprise. She was too far away to hear what was being said, and until the young pair had thrown caution to the winds and embraced so publicly, she had suspected nothing more than a close friendship. But seeing the tenderness with which her only son caressed the girl made her heart glad, and she saw in them what she had always hoped he would find: real, simple love.
Many a time had she witnessed Fiyero with his most recent girlfriend, always pretty and polite, of course, but nothing more than a mere trinket to display on his arm when he went to fancy parties. She and Follor both saw through his well constructed façade, and noticed the kind hearted, conscientious young man he had the potential to be, if only he would let himself.
Biaxana beckoned to Follor, and the tall man stood proudly next to his wife.
"What is it, dearest?" he questioned. She motioned towards the stable yard and he let his eyes follow the path of her hands, before settling on the young couple. Elphaba was standing on tiptoe, and Fiyero brought his head down so that their foreheads pressed together and they were nose to nose, conversing about something that made them both smile. Fiyero threw his head up and laughed delightedly, while Elphaba buried her face into his chest, her body also shaking with laughter. She said something else and he visibly sighed deeply, planting an innocent, adoring kiss on the tip of her nose.
"Oh," the King exclaimed softly, a minute smile appearing on his broad face.
"It appears he has found his match at last, Foll," Biaxana sighed, the corners of her lips turning up in pleasure.
"Let us hope everything works out for the best," replied Follor, an image of Rilt appearing in his mind's eye.
On Fiyero's request, Elphaba had made sure that Wit was one of the horses that pulled the carriage to bring her to Kiamo Ko. As soon as he encountered Holtz, he had tossed his head and whinnied happily, and the pair had developed almost as close a relationship as their respective riders.
The young people looked somehow managed to look imposing and regal when they were mounted on their horses, and as they trotted down through the village they received a volley of awed glances from the townsfolk. Much to Elphaba's delight, none of them looked askance at her skin, but instead seemed more interested in her relationship with Fiyero.
Of course, out of respect for Fiyero's position, the people only gazed upon them with unguarded interest, rather than questioning them like they would have preferred to do.
"Is that the new princess, Mama? She's green!" one little girl asked loudly, tugging on her mother's starched apron. At the sound of the young voice, Fiyero turned his head and looked intently down at the child, who could barely be more that six years old. Her mother quailed in horror, snatching the girl against her skirts.
"My apologies, your highness. Partia didn't mean to speak out of turn, sir. She just don't know when to hold her tongue sometimes, y'see." the woman gabbled, frightened of Fiyero's calm, unwavering gaze.
Elphaba watched in silence, concerned. Fiyero wasn't a cruel prince, was he? Surely he wouldn't abuse his power and position just because of some unimportant words uttered by a child? The people in the market square hushed, and watched with wide, expectant eyes.
Much to Elphaba's relief, Fiyero smiled warmly and climbed down from the horse.
"Would you like it if this lady was the new princess?" he asked gently, bending down to look the little girl in the eyes. The girl smiled broadly at him.
"Yessir! I reckon she's real pretty." she enthused, causing Fiyero to laugh and ruffle her hair. Elphaba felt an unknown warmth in her chest as she watched the little scene. She wasn't sure whether it was because the child had been genuinely positive about her, or if it was because of Fiyero's apparent talent with children. She had a sneaking fear that it was due to the latter, but she shrugged the thought away. Children were not part of her future.
And yet, when she went to bed that night, the visions that she had only just managed to suppress somehow floated to the surface again, though slightly altered. The future she envisaged was more like the one Glinda had joked about the day she left Colwen Grounds. It was no longer simply herself and Fiyero living in a grand castle on their own, with Glinda and her family coming for occasional visits.
No.
Now, the unidentifiable castle had turned into the homely walls of Kiamo Ko, protecting it's inhabitants like a womb, where they could feel comfortable and safe. She could see the dining room bedecked with gold and green decorations for Lurlinemas, and saw everyone that was important to her crowded around the dark wooden table. Melena, Frex, Nessa, Shell, Biaxana, Follor, Glinda, Glinda's [as yet faceless and nameless] husband, Glinda's children. In her mind, they called her Auntie Elphie. Fiyero was seated across from herself, looking as perfect and flawless as ever.
And children. Four beautiful children, two with unmistakable cobalt eyes, and two with distinctive eyes of dark chocolate. Three girls with long black hair that looked like spun silk, and a boy with hair the same colour as Fiyero's own: a kind of dark bistre. She didn't dare go through her mind for names for them, as that would cause her to grow attached to something she would never have.
In all honesty, she still did not want children. To her, they were surplus to requirements, and noisy, and smelly, and never paid her one ounce of attention. The things she would have to go through in order to bear them didn't appeal much either, apart from the activities one had to perform in order to create the little monsters. A small amount of pleasure to create a child did not, in her book, make up for the huge amount of pain required to deliver it out into the world, screaming and crying.
The overt happiness of the little scene was preposterous to her analytical mind, and she wouldn't allow herself any real fondness towards these imagined children. Biting her lip, Elphaba realised that however much she may not want children, Fiyero possibly did, and if they ever managed to be together publicly, it would be something they had to discuss.
Yet, no matter how much she didn't want children, there was a part of her, buried deep in the soul she wasn't entirely certain she possessed, that needed them.
The little scene was actually desirable to her, as were the many others that flashed across her shrewd mind before she fell into a peaceful sleep, her arms wound tightly around the pillow like a lover.
Rilt rapped his knuckles smartly on the door, leaning on his walking stick for support. No answer came from within, so he simply opened the door without a second thought. His wife was folded against a pillow, her face nuzzled just inches from an open book. The candle on her bedside table flickered in the draught from the door, before stuttering out. It wasn't really necessary anyway, as the sun was beginning to rise again in a haze of amber and persimmon.
He approached the bed, reaching over to close the book. Elphaba sighed a little in her sleep, but didn't wake. With the back of his free hand, Rilt traced the elegant line of her jaw, amazed at the silky texture of her skin. With a malevolent smile, he lowered his face to hers, connecting their lips.
Elphaba immediately woke, punched his jaw with all of her might, and screamed.