Sorry about any OOC-ness in this chapter. I'm trying! A few more chapters, I think, and then we shall draw the curtain on this little melodrama. Thank you for all of the reviews! :D
And by the way, I just located a slight plot hole from a few chapters ago, and I have just created another one, though yes, it's tiny. How did Wit [Elphaba's horse] get back from the Vinkus? No idea. How did Fiyero get the little book into Elphaba's room? No idea, but I'm going to say that he bribed a maid to take it up. Sorry, I hate that.
To say that Elphaba was shocked would have been an understatement. She stood with her hands rested on Fiyero's shoulders, struck dumb in the middle of the act of propelling him from her house. Her mouth opened and closed several times, and eventually she settled on gawping at him in confusion and astonishment. Fiyero gazed back at her intently, watching conflicting expressions flit across her face in quick succession.
Confusion.
Adoration.
Amusement.
Cynicism.
Tenderness.
Frex's footsteps began to slowly shuffle down the little corridor towards the kitchen, and Fiyero gripped Elphaba's emerald hands imploringly. She shook herself out of her reverie, and pretended to heave a defeated little sigh.
"All right then, I'll marry you," she smiled crookedly, cleverly disguising the mixture of fear and rapture that now stirred in her long dormant heart. Fiyero beamed idiotically, gathering her into his arms and planting a soft, meaningful kiss on her lips. Elphaba laughed fondly and pushed him away. "Now go!" she whispered, closing the door. Fiyero stood waving foolishly at the closed entrance, before coming to his senses and bolting across the garden, leaping joyfully over the rosebushes as he went.
Just as Elphaba had perched herself calmly on the rickety wooden chair, the kitchen door opened and her father entered.
"Hello, Papa," the young woman smiled, swallowing a bite of the cookie Fiyero had left abandoned on the tabletop. Frex returned the grin sleepily.
"Couldn't sleep either?" yawned the older man, crossing to the deep sink and filling a glass with water. "Well, I was sleeping quite happily," he corrected himself, "But Melena wanted a drink, so here I am. What a husband will do for his wife, eh, my sweet?" Frex laughed and crossed to his daughter, stealing a cookie.
"Father?" Elphaba said, just as he was going to leave the room.
"Yes, Fabala?" he replied quietly, amazed that his daughter was actually volunteering conversation after six months of ignoring him completely.
"I love you," she whispered shyly, dunking another cookie into the glass of milk.
"I know. I love you too…We all do. And we miss you…Come back to us, darling."
Elphaba joined her family at breakfast the next morning, much to Melena's surprise. She settled back in her usual place as though she had never left it, all while helping herself to coffee and toast. She conversed easily with Nessarose and Shell, clearly as devoted to them now as she ever had been. The redhead was having an extremely difficult time understanding her unpredictable daughter, who seemed to be able to snap from the depths of despair to the heights of happiness within two days. When Frex relaxed into the pleasant conversation, she decided to do the same. Surely she had never been this unmanageable as a teenager!
When Elphaba returned to her room that afternoon, she found a book on her bedside cabinet that had not been there before. The binding was of azure silk, embossed with swirling silver vines. The name 'Fae' was printed in the bottom right hand corner, and the parchment pages were all blank, save a small note on the very first.
'Fae,' it read, 'Use this diary as an outlet for that brilliant mind of yours. I know how much you love to write, so fill these pages with your hopes, your dreams, your happiness, your anger…Anything. In Wend Hardings there is a little Unionist chapel, and the Minister there has agreed to marry us. Meet me there at eleven tonight. I love you. Yero.'
Elphaba weighed the book in her hands, smoothing her long fingers over the sleek cover. It felt good in her grasp, the texture of the paper was pleasant and the smell of 'new book' made her head spin with delight, just as it used to. A pen and ink were lying close by, and the young woman could not resist filling the first blank page after Fiyero's note with her own spiky handwriting; babbling incessantly about her nerves and excitement for the night to come.
Another letter from Glinda lay unopened on Elphaba's dresser, and her exuberant mood encouraged her to open it. The blonde had not stopped writing to her friend during the interim of time Elphaba had kept herself shut up. She apologised for her injudicious behaviour constantly, and tried to brighten the green girl's mood with talk of silly things that Glinda herself didn't even find especially amusing.
The tone of her most recent letter, however, was defeated and cheerless. Elphaba felt guilty when she noticed the lack of usual bounce and vigour. The letter read,
'Dear Elphaba,
I'm sorry. I have tried and tried to make you realise how really, truly sorry I am for what I did to you. In all honesty, I'm still not entirely sure what that was, but I know that it had something to do with Prince Fiyero, and I know that it must have been awful. I'm sure you realise that I was grieving, and it caused me to lash out at you, which was completely unreasonable and selfish.
If you love Prince Fiyero, Elphaba, I am not going to hold it against you or hate you for it. Goodness knows, if he loves you in return, I may even envy you a little. But please, please, please, my dear friend, at least reply to this letter. Let me know if you can ever forgive me for treating you so hatefully, and if you can't, put me out of my misery. Just inform me, one way or the other, Elphie.
If you do not reply to this letter, I will understand that as your way of telling me that forgiveness is denied, which I hope it is not.
Ever your loving friend,
Glinda'
A regretful tear slid down Elphaba's verdant cheek as she understood the genuine anguish in her friend's words, and mentally scolded herself for being so stubborn and withholding forgiveness. Without a second thought, Elphaba replied to Glinda's letter. She knew that it would take at least a week to reach the Pertha Hills in Gillikin, so she could afford to tell her of her impending marriage.
'My dear, dear friend!
Consider yourself forgiven, Glinda, not that there is anything to forgive. I have been wallowing so deep in my own self pity for the last few months, I didn't even contemplate forgiving you for something that you didn't even really do.
I'm sorry about your Grandfather, Glin, I really am. However, you were right; I am in love with Fiyero. I'm afraid that I'm about to be rather out of character, and hope that you don't mind me telling you about the events of the last twelve hours! (I can barely write, I'm so keyed up!)
Because I refused to tell our parents about our being in love just after Rilt died, and because I agreed to come to the funeral with you, Fiyero felt that I did not love him enough, and told me he didn't want to see me again until I was no longer ashamed of him. Needless to say, Glinny, I was distraught on that carriage ride to the Pertha Hills! I didn't see him, nor write to him for six months, nor will I bother your pretty little head about what I did do during that time.
Then, last night, on his way back from a party (my birthday party, which I refused to attend…None of my family went, either), he ended up at Colwen Grounds, right underneath my window! We argued a little, of course, but then we made up, and…Oh, I can barely even think to tell to!
He asked me to marry him! I know, I'm being foolish and girly and ridiculously unlike my usual self, but I'm so delirious with happiness I can barely think straight. We are going to be married tonight, in a little chapel in the Wend Hardings, and in the morning we will tell my parents when there is nothing they can do about it.
Anyway, I hope you don't hate me for marrying him so soon after your Grandfather. Please give us your blessing, my dear! It really would mean the world to me.
Ever your (slightly giddy) friend,
Elphaba (the Delirious)'
Upon reading the letter over, Elphaba had to laugh at her excessive use of parenthesis, and the sheer, unbounded enthusiasm in her tone. When simply sitting in the quiet, the bright energy of the girl who wrote the letter seemed to elude Elphaba, and she remained her usual stoic, composed self. It appeared that her hidden feelings had dashed, unwilled, from her pen, as though she subconsciously knew that Glinda would accept them.
Fiyero's nose had lost all feeling by ten to eleven that night, so cold was the little churchyard in which he waited for Elphaba. He stamped his feet heavily on the freezing earth, the warmth of his breath forming mesmerising little clouds whenever he exhaled.
He was wearing a cloak, pulled high over his head so as to disguise his face in the shadows. It wouldn't be fitting for a prince and a princess [for, in Munchkinland society, that was what Elphaba's position amounted to] to marry out with a royal ceremony, so they had to do it in secret.
The diamond tattoos that decorated his body would soon be transferred to Elphaba's smooth skin by his own hand, and the thought of the azure diamonds on her emerald skin made every nerve in his body tingle with delight. This was a custom in the Vinkus: any woman marrying into the royal family must be marked with the sacred tattoos by her own husband, who had been taught to ink the intricate patterns onto flesh since his boyhood. Fiyero didn't know if that ritual would be done tonight, or left till another. He had brought the dyes and such with him, just in case.
Over the crest of the hill marched a thin figure swathed in an ebony cloak. She was backlit by the moon, and Fiyero could see she wore a strange black hat atop her head; wide brimmed and pointed. Elphaba entered the churchyard and approached him nervously.
"I wore gloves," she muttered, "You now how recognisable this damn skin is." Fiyero nodded and ducked under the brim of her hat to press a doting kiss on her cheek.
"Come on then," he smiled, taking her gloved fingers in his own and leading her into the chapel.
The Minister was waiting.
And now you shall have to wait! :)