Title: The Grand Vizier of Oz
Author: Sedri
Rating: PG-13 / T
Summary: "Please come back - you're my daughter, I'd do anything -!" She stopped, hand half-raised and ready to cast a spell. "Anything?" AU, Fiyero/Elphaba. Complete.

Disclaimer: Neither Wicked nor the world of Oz are mine in any way.

Chapter Two
In The Throne Room

Year 19
Spring

They were in pain.

It was all she could hear, all she could think about – the screaming, screeching, crashing, crying monkeys who rushed around madly trying to escape their new wings or huddled pitifully together in the cage, whimpering. Elphaba watched, helpless, barely hearing the voices around her.

"The world is your oyster now. You have so many opportunities ahead of you – you both do!"

It was so faint, so far away, and Glinda's reply was even further. Elphaba didn't care; her mind was filled with shock and guilt and anger and the lies, lies, lies. It was wrong and he was wrong and she was wrong to stand there doing nothing and the shrieks echoed in her skull and she clenched the book and shook her head and felt such a rage build up and–

"NO!"

–ran.

The door was close, so close, but Morrible was closer. She shot out with claw-like hands to grab her student – or perhaps the Grimmerie – and snared one wrist. Elphaba's anger boiled and she spun, not even thinking as she flung out an arm and cast off her captor with magical force equal to that of a small bomb. Morrible flew, hurtling through the air in a swirl of lime silk and Elphaba saw, in a frozen moment of perfect clarity, the look of shock on her white-painted face.

Then–

CRASH.

–time caught up with them all. Elphaba blinked.

Glinda screamed.

Shards of glass and metal were everywhere, still tinkling as they hit the ground. The mechanical head was in ruins, torn clean away from the wall. Its thin shell had splintered and jagged metal spikes were poking out in all directions. The jaw had separated, the cheek had buckled, one eye had collapsed, and in the midst of it all lay Madame Morrible, glassy-eyed and bleeding.

The impact had broken her neck.

Elphaba gasped and backed away, horrified. She hit a wall and stopped, nails digging so hard into the Grimmerie that she nearly tore the leather. No, no, no, she thought, sinking to the floor with a violent shudder. No, this can't be happening...

But it was happening. The Wizard, showing more calm competence than she might have expected, quickly made his way to the wreckage, crouching beside Morrible while Glinda scurried over to her friend. She dropped to her knees and hugged Elphaba, who blindly reached for one white hand and gripped it like a lifeline. "It's okay, Elphie," Glinda chanted frantically, "it's okay, it's okay, it's okay..."

Elphaba shook her head. It was not okay, not unless she was mad, or dreaming. It wasn't okay unless the Wizard could look up and say–

"I'm sorry, girls. She's gone."

With a soft cry, Elphaba tore her eyes away from the corpse, burying a pale face in Glinda's shoulder and trying not to be sick. "I killed her," she breathed. "Glinda, I killed her..."

Shaking, Glinda just clung tighter and forced them both to look away.

By this time the guards posted outside had begun to pound on it and shout – was all well? Was the Great Oz in need? – and the Wizard hurried over to unlock the door. The men beyond sagged with relief, then straightened up and saluted.

"Send for the undertaker," the Wizard told them, sounding tired. "Madame Morrible is dead."

Behind him, curled up on the floor, the girls could barely hear his words, and Elphaba, watching through the gap between Glinda's chin and neck, suddenly stiffened as she realised something. "Glinda," she whispered urgently, "he can arrest me for murder."

The blonde girl jerked away. "What?"

"You too, maybe," said Elphaba. "We know too much, and it's the perfect excuse–" she flinched "–perfect reason. If he locks us up he can be sure that we'll never–"

"Elphie, no, don't talk like that!" cried Glinda, shaking her. "It'll be all right – you didn't mean to – we'll fix this," she said desperately. "We'll fix it, somehow, we'll..."

But whatever Glinda might have thought to do, or whatever escape Elphaba might have planned, nothing ever came of it, for at that moment the Wizard walked over with one soldier, gesturing to the ruined head and the dead sorceress. "... a terrible accident – terrible," he was saying. "And for those poor girls to witness it... I warned the Madame that this spell was too much for her, but she so wanted to treat her students to something special, and, well..."

Elphaba looked up in disbelief. Then the old man added a long, melodramatically sad sigh and her eyes narrowed in suspicion – what was he doing?

The guard, the same red-bearded fellow who had led them in, let his gaze linger on the huddled schoolgirls for only a moment. It never occurred to him to suspect them, despite the fact that Elphaba was holding the Grimmerie; he didn't recognise it. Besides, the Great Oz – human though he might appear – had said it was an accident, so he simply bowed and asked about 'arrangements'.

"She'll have a state funeral, of course," said the Wizard, making his way to the bewildered girls, "with all pomp and pageantry, as soon as possible. Now, my good man, if you will see to things here, I think I'll take our guests to a sitting room for a nice cup of hot chocolate."

He was met with one look of surprise and another of profound scepticism. "I'm sure this was a terrible shock for you girls, but if you'll just come with me..."

They stayed put, glancing warily at each other. At last he said, "Unless you'd prefer to stay out here with my men."

If it was a threat, it was very well concealed – he sounded honestly concerned. With no other option anyway, they stood and followed him, Elphaba somewhat shakily. The soldier, whose backup was solemnly arriving through the main door, paid no heed to either of them as the Wizard gently guided them to a small door behind the curtains, which in turn led to a cosy little parlour with a fireplace and several soft chairs. Only because she was still so rattled by the bloody death of Morrible did Elphaba allow Glinda to sit her down on a couch and wait for the Wizard to speak.

He seemed to be in no hurry. Clearing some books and papers from a low table, he fussed about in the corner for a moment before returning with a china teapot and several cups. The pot was full of hot milk, and as he poured it out and measured the little flakes of chocolate, Glinda sat down beside her friend, hands twisting nervously in her lap.

"I-is this where you live?" she asked suddenly. Her voice trembled badly, and the Wizard, with a soothing smile, handed her the first drink.

"Yes," he said kindly, "just a small corner of the palace that no one really misses. Ironic, isn't it? Only a few housekeepers and my personal guard know that I need to eat and sleep like any other man," he chuckled, then gestured to the haphazard stacks of paperwork. "Sorry for the mess. As you might imagine, I never have visitors."

Fidgeting, Glinda gave a little shrug and sipped the chocolate. Elphaba said nothing, just watched the exchange with the Grimmerie hugged to her chest. As she regained her composure, her eyes narrowed in calculation, and silence reigned again until the Wizard finished making a second cup and offered it to his green guest. Shooting him a glare, she ignored it. "What did you mean by telling them it was an accident?"

The Wizard blinked, confused. "It... was an accident, wasn't it? Surely you didn't mean to–"

"Of course not," snapped Elphaba, "but no one will believe my word over yours, so why did you do it? Blackmail? If I don't help you, you'll have me arrested, is that it?"

"No!" He actually seemed offended, and set the cup down with a clatter. "Of course not, Elphaba. I want you to help me because you want to. I want you to be happy."

"Well I'm not happy and I don't want to," she declared, shifting on the edge of her seat and putting the book aside. "I don't want anything to do with this. I won't help you continue whatever it is you're doing to the Animals."

The Wizard sighed, shaking his head with an expression that reminded Glinda of her parents whenever they indulged her sillier whims. "Elphaba," he said, leaning forward in his chair, "I want to help the citizens of Oz–"

"By imprisoning them?"

"The Animals–"

She shot to her feet. "–ARE citizens!"

Glinda tugged on her black sleeve and urged her to sit. "Calm down, Elphie, please," she said, glancing quickly at the irritated Wizard. "This isn't helping. Maybe you could... I don't know, find some sort of compromi–"

"No," snapped Elphaba, frustrated, and tore away from her friend to pace the room, boots thumping heavily on the floor. "I won't help him, not ever – not unless he completely changes the way he treats Animals."

The Wizard sighed. "I realise all this must be very upsetting for you–"

"You think?"

"–particularly with a sudden death on your conscience."

She stiffened, clenching her hands to keep them from trembling. The Wizard saw this; he wasn't stupid. Patiently, he said, "Come and sit down, Elphaba. Let's talk. Here, have a drink. Chocolate? Or something stronger, maybe, to soothe your nerves?" He pulled a small bottle from his pocket.

"No. Thank you." She didn't even look at him, just kept pacing and glaring at the walls. "I want to know what happens next."

"That's up to you," he replied, pausing to swallow a sip of his drink. "I want to believe I can trust you girls, and if we can–"

"Elphie!" gasped Glinda. "Elphie, the bottle!"

Startled, Elphaba spun around. Glinda was half out of her seat, pointing one white arm straight at the Wizard, who had frozen mid-sip in surprise. In two strides, Elphaba was back by his side and she snatched the green bottle from his fingers. "Where did you get this?" she demanded. "Where did you get this?"

"I – well, I've had them for years," he stammered. "Bought them from my cousin back in–"

"'Them'? There's more?"

"Only three – two, now, and– What are you doing?"

Elphaba had opened the lid and was tentatively sniffing the mixture. Glinda, now standing, moved to her side and asked, "Is it... the same?"

"Stronger, I think," said Elphaba, "but that could be because there's more of it." She returned her gaze to the baffled Wizard, who was now rising to his feet, hand extended toward his bottle. Elphaba kept a tight hold. "What is it?"

He shrugged. "Green elixir. I only ever made one batch – didn't bother to name it."

"Does anyone else know how to make it?"

The Wizard looked between his guests, eyebrows knitted tight and racing to catch up with the conversation. "No," he said. "Why do you–?"

"What's in it?"

He fixed her with a chiding expression and sat back down in his chair. "First you tell me why this is so important to you."

"No, I have to–"

"I can be stubborn too, dear girl. Sit down."

Glinda touched her shoulder, murmuring something about being reasonable, and they returned to their places on the couch. Elphaba's hands stayed wrapped around the bottle, fingers resting in the same spiralling grooves that they always did, only the chinks and rough patches were different. For a long moment she was silent, her need for privacy wrestling with desperate curiosity. Privacy lost. "My mother had a little green bottle just like this. She never told anyone what it was, or where she got it. She gave it to me. I thought it was the only one in the world."

The Wizard's brow furrowed. "Your mother?" he repeated, confused. "How could your mo–?" Something akin to guilt flashed across his face. "Melena Thropp," he said. "Your mother is Melena Thropp."

"Was," replied Elphaba. "She died a long time ago."

Regret crossed his face now, far more sincere than that which he had shown for Morrible. "I'm sorry. She was... so beautiful."

Elphaba looked puzzled. "You knew her?"

"I gave her one of my bottles, as you've probably guessed," he replied. "Before the last Ozma died, I was travelling around Munchkinland and... ran into her." He spoke offhandedly, as though his real thoughts were elsewhere – and they clearly were, for suddenly he asked, with great intensity, "How old are you, Elphaba?"

"What? None of your business."

Glinda squeezed her hand and nudged her. Grudgingly, she said, "Nineteen."

"And your birthday is when, exactly?"

She told him.

There was a moment's silence, a frozen second in which the Wizard's blue eyes glittered in the lamplight. Then his cheek twitched, a huge smile broke out, and suddenly he jumped out of his seat. His hands caught Elphaba's and he pulled her up, wrapping her in a hug before she could even think to stop him. She stood stiff as a board and Glinda stared open-mouthed while the Wizard cried, "Oh, Lord, thank you!"

Elphaba jerked back, repulsed, but the Wizard didn't seem to care. He was practically dancing as he studied her face like he'd never seen it before, biting his lower lip in excitement. Then he cried, "Ah! It's the eyes – you have Melena's eyes! And her cheeks and lips– oh, but that's my jaw, and the nose, it's... Aunt Jane, Aunt Jane! Ha!"

The girls stared at him as though he were a lunatic. He probably was. Snatching up a pile of loose papers, he tore messily through them before triumphantly snatching up a photograph which he held out to the girls. It was a colour picture of himself, many years younger, at what seemed to be the Ozma Regent's Lurlinemas speech. Glinda and Elphaba looked at it, puzzled, and the Wizard cried, "The hair, Elphaba – look at my hair!"

"...It's black," she said flatly.

"Yes, black! It's the same shade, don't you see?"

Exchanging a glance with Glinda, Elphaba pushed the photo back into his hands. "No," she said warily, "I don't see. What are you on about?"

He reached out and lifted the ends of her own dark locks. "You have my hair! And my jaw, and you're Melena's daughter, and you're just the right age..." He trailed off, expecting it to be obvious.

Now, Elphaba Thropp was not stupid. She understood how the world worked even if she'd never been allowed to be part of it; she knew what strong liquor could do to people and she knew what her mother had been rumoured to act like. She knew she was different, that people had always commented on how she resembled Melena, never Frex, and she was quick enough to make the connection between the Wizard's apparently random string of exclamations.

She was also angry, afraid, hurt, disgusted, and deeply shaken by Morrible's death. "How dare you?" she spat.

The Wizard jerked back as though burned. Glinda glanced between them, confused. "Elphie, what–?"

"He thinks he's my father," her friend replied. "He drugged my mother with this – this stuff that probably turned me green and–"

"Now just a moment!" he defended. "I didn't drug anyone. Your mother knew exactly how potent my elixir was–"

"She'd had it before?"

"Several times. We emptied the bottle together."

Elphaba tore away again, stalking around to the back of the couch, keeping it between herself and the Wizard. "What's in it?" she demanded. "Why did it make me green?"

He looked pained. "I really don't know," he confessed. "I was experimenting with potions and spirits. I had nothing else to do, and this one... well, it has a pleasant buzz. Dulls pain, too."

Her glare was icy. "You didn't even keep track of what went in it?"

"Er... no."

She whirled away, apparently furious, but Glinda caught a brief look in her eyes – devastation. Without the precise recipe for such a magical potion, there would be no way to reverse its effects, ever. Circling the couch, she took the hand of her forever-green friend and squeezed.

Elphaba nodded silently, grateful for the support. Her eyes were shut tight and her jaw clenched several times before she was able to swallow her anger – and tears – enough to compose herself again. She turned around.

"This doesn't prove anything," she said evenly, throwing him the bottle that perfectly matched her skin. "All it means is that it's your fault I'm green."

"I'm sorry about that," he said, sounding sincere. "I didn't know. I would never have done it to you on purpose."

Small consolation. Elphaba snorted and said nothing, folding her arms and looking away. Glinda, however, was thinking – hard. Her brow was furrowed, and she tapped a pretty nail on her lips.

"...Elphie?" she said softly, after a moment. "Elphie, I know you don't want to hear this, but don't you think... well, if he is your–"

"He's not."

"But if he was," persisted Glinda, "wouldn't that explain your powers?"

The others blinked at her. "What?"

"Your powers. They're special. No other sorcerer in history has had talent like yours, so I thought, maybe... I mean, he's from another world, Elphie. Even if he doesn't have his own magic, maybe with mixed blood... It's never happened before."

The Wizard looked gleeful, clapping his hands together and beaming at her, but Elphaba frowned as she thought it through, jaw tightening as she failed to find any flaws. At last she asked, "How can you be sure? That no one else has had talent like me, I mean?"

"I've watched you in class, Elphie, and I did a lot of reading for my entrance essay. I'm sure. Madame Morrible said so, too, remem–?" she flinched. Elphaba's lips pressed tight and she paled again. "Sorry."

Elphaba just shook her head and clasped her friend's hand, but Glinda, seeing her tremble under the strain, patted her arm and said, "Maybe we should get some rest. Hmm? Go back to the hotel and... well, we can come back tomorrow, can't we?" she asked the Wizard.

"Of course you–"

"No. We're going back to Shiz," declared Elphaba, picking up the Grimmerie. "We're leaving right now."

"What–?"

"Elphie–"

"–No!"

The Wizard scrambled across the room and blocked their way to the door. "Please, Elphaba, don't go. There's so much I want to... Please, I can give you what you want–"

"You have no idea what I–"

"I'll make you Grand Vizier!"

"Move!"

"Stay here, please – I'm your father, I–"

"I hate you!"

"You're my daughter, I'd do anything–!"

She stopped, hand half-raised and ready to cast a spell. One eyebrow lifted. "...Anything?"

The Wizard locked eyes with her, silent just long enough to make it clear that he understood the implications of his reply. He nodded. "Anything."

For a moment she was still, watching him like a predator. The air around them had changed, the balance of power shifted. In the last few seconds, with his last word, the Wizard had given Elphaba absolute authority.

She used it. "You're going to give the Animals their rights back," she declared. "All of them. You're going to restore the lives and livelihood of everyone who has suffered in your attempt to 'bring us together' – starting with Doctor Dillamond. I want him teaching class tomorrow. And every other Animal professor that used to work at Shiz – I want them back."

With each word, he deflated a little, and at these last ones he winced. "Elphaba, that might not be possible," he said reasonably. "Some are no longer capable–"

"You'll do everything in your power to make them capable," she replied, voice dangerously soft. "You're going to take everything you know about how to stop Animals from talking and reverse it. I don't care what it takes. Make this 'mysterious affliction' out to be your new enemy if you have to – just do it."

"Yes, I will, I swear, but Elphaba, this will take time – you must understand," he pleaded. "Change doesn't happen overnight."

Her anger drained a little. "I know," she said, "it will take a lot of work. So if you really mean what you say..." she paused, just for a moment, "...then I'll accept your offer to be vizier."

"Wonderful!" he cried, she had to step back to avoid another hug. He clapped anyway, looking much too cheerful for a man whose entire political agenda had just been turned on its ear. "Oh, Elphaba, I can't tell you how happy this makes me! You're going to love it here, I'm sure – you'll have the best room in the palace and–"

"No," said Elphaba tightly. "I'm going back to Shiz. I'm going to finish my degree and if you've kept your promise by the time I graduate, then I'll come back."

He was crushed. "Elphaba..."

"All you've given me are words – I want proof. I'm not going to join you until there are laws that I want to enforce. And I won't support lies, either. Don't you dare rebuild that stupid head. Find some excuse and start letting people see that you're human."

If nothing else could be said for the Wizard's virtues, he was – at least with her – honest. "I don't know if I can do that," he said carefully. "In all these years, only a dozen people have met me in person. I don't know what will happen if I reveal myself now. We can get nothing done if I lose power."

"Um... If I may?" said Glinda. "Sir, I-I think Elphie's right. I mean, we were so excited just to know we'd see you–" (Elphaba scowled) "–and everyone in Oz already believes in you, but they're terrified, too. I know it's not the same as being – well, popular – but if they could meet you, and you were more... approachable..." she hesitated, feeling way out of her depth – who was she to lecture him? – but she couldn't stop now; they were waiting. "...No one would respect you less, I think, and seeing you, even just once or twice a year, would be really... encouraging."

The Wizard was nodding slowly, considering this, and gave her a warm smile. "Miss Glinda," he said, "I think you might just have a future in public relations."

Glinda stifled a little gasp, but Elphaba quelled her excitement by coldly pointing out, "He said 'might'."

"Oh, Elphie, don't be such a pessimist."

The Wizard gave her a chiding look. "I mean it, Elphaba. Your friend seems to have all the qualities we'd need in a press secretary."

"There is no 'we' yet," she reminded him. "Glinda and I are going back to Shiz and you have two years to make good on your word. Until then nothing's decided, so don't talk about this to anyone – and you are never to say anything about my mother," she added fiercely. "That's a secret we are not sharing."

His shoulders slumped a little. "Well... I can live with that," he said.

"Good. The last thing I need is my father knowing about any of this. He loved her," she added, unwillingly softer. "It would break his heart to know she had an affair, and Nessa... Nessa would be devastated."

Wisely, the Wizard did not ask who Nessa was – that's what profiles were for, after all, and Elphaba's was sitting on his desk in the next room, prepared by Morrible and filled with several names he couldn't quite remember. 'Nessa' would be one of them. "Mum's the word," he promised. "So, er... anything else I can do for you?" he asked hopefully. "Any bills you want me to settle, or a dress you've always–?"

"Restore Animal rights."

It was very mature of Glinda to say nothing about being denied a shopping trip. In fact, she didn't even think about it – she was more concerned with her friend's increasingly cold attitude. "Thank you, Your Ozness," she said, looking pointedly at Elphaba. "This is more than we could have ever hoped for."

"My name is Oscar," the Wizard told her with a little bow. "Oscar Diggs. Please use it."

Glinda smiled and shook his hand, as if their first fouled-up meeting had never occurred. Elphaba packed the Grimmerie into her satchel. "We'll miss the train, Glinda."

"Elphie–"

"Or would you rather we leave your things at the hotel?" Without a glance at Oscar, she wrenched open the door and stalked out. The old man watched her go with a naked look of longing sadness, and Glinda's heart went out to him.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "Elphie... she's hurt, and angry, and... she doesn't mean it."

Oscar manufactured a smile. "It's all right," he said. "She has every right to be upset." Then he patted Glinda's hand. "You should hurry, Miss Glinda. If my daughter is anything like me... Well," he shrugged, "run along."

Glinda nodded, but hesitated. Then she did something she never even dreamed of doing – she hugged the Wizard of Oz.

Oscar smiled and returned it, finding the gesture sweet. "Thank you, dear. Now, hurry."

With a nod she did so, picking her way through the broken throne room, and Oscar Diggs was left alone, again.