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 Five
Cause For Celebration

Year 20
Spring

Dear Elphaba,
I hope you are well, and I'm glad to hear that Chistery and his family have settled in so nicely. Your last report was

No, thought Oscar, shaking his head; that wouldn't work. "Report" was a bad word – it made Elphaba sound like some sort of officer under his command. "Letter" would have been better, but her pages of correspondence, which arrived so punctually every two weeks, really were nothing more than clinical notes on the progress of the Monkeys, and half of it was actually written by Doctor Dillamond – that didn't count.

Scratching out the writing, he started again.

Dear Elphaba,
You will be pleased to hear that as of today, at least one of your requests has been fulfilled: Every Animal whose livelihood was affected by my actions have been either restored or compensated for

No. "Requests" didn't sound right, and Elphaba wouldn't like to hear anything about 'compensation', although it was the only practical solution he could think of. No benign leader could fire human teachers from places like Shiz just to reinstate previous ones, not if they hadn't done anything wrong. As a compromise, he was arranging to fund an expansion of several schools in order to have more teachers on any given staff, but it was a slow process and not something to put in what should be the happiest letter he'd sent yet.

Deciding to avoid politics entirely, Oscar began a new draft, this time getting straight to the point.

My dear Elphaba,
Congratulations on your twentieth birthday. I'm very sorry that I can't be there to celebrate it with you, but I'm sure you are having a good time with your friends and

Bah! That wouldn't work either – she wouldn't want him to be there. But what else could he say?

Putting down his quill, Oscar stretched his fingers and reached for the black velvet box that sat innocently on one side of his desk. It was open, and on the cushion inside lay a beautiful silver necklace; the first gift from this father to his daughter. It was fairly simple, as he didn't take Elphaba for the type to like fancy ornaments, with a thin chain and a small pendant shaped like a starburst – a pattern of glass triangles studded with tiny diamonds. It was elegant, not too intimate, but Oscar still worried that his daughter would reject it entirely.

It wasn't as if he knew her very well.

Sighing, the 'great' Wizard of Oz gave up his efforts for now and picked up the thick pile of envelopes that his assistants delivered every day. He leafed through them aimlessly, looking at names and vaguely guessing at their contents: Baron Appleton would be complaining about his taxes again, Lady Rodmilla still wanted in on his advisory cabinet, Governor Thropp was probably needing a loan to stabilise his farmers after that fire in the Corn Basket (Oscar didn't know quite how he felt about that man, lucky enough to raise two daughters all on his own, but didn't let it get in the way of his generosity) and then there was–

A letter from Elphaba.

Heart in his throat, half hopeful and half in fear, Oscar tore it open. Her last missive was only three days old – had something happened? Was she all right?

Diggs, she wrote:

Chistery sends his greetings.

Oscar blinked, re-read the line, and broke into a smile.

His speech is stilted and his vocabulary poor, but for the last four hours Doctor Dillamond and I have been talking with him about all sorts of things, including you. He calls you Loud-Bang-Man and says you were very nice. Several of the other Chimps were able to join our conversation at one time or another, and Chistery spent quite a while explaining words and meanings to them himself, and he only needed our help when his adjectives failed him.

All their talk is very concrete, focused on objects they can see and touch or remember, but Doctor Dillamond and I believe that they understand abstract notions like "beauty" just as well, and that as soon as we can communicate the words alongside the concepts, they will be able to use them easily. All but Tripthy and Marka seem eager to learn, and even they understand what is going on if Chistery explains it to them.

Now you can tell people that we have definitive proof of Animal intelligence, regardless of whether they were taught to speak as children. It's not mimicry. Make sure people understand that – especially soldiers; the security guards at the train station are constantly stopping Animal passengers, but rarely search humans.

Detailed notes are on the way, along with a transcript of the conversation.

Elphaba Thropp

Still smiling, Oscar nodded quietly and put the letter down. His daughter's words were hardly the warm or friendly sort he was always hoping for, but at least she was writing to him now rather than just sending reports and complaints about the problems she observed at Shiz.

Feeling that a celebration was in order, Oscar took a bottle from one drawer and poured himself a drink – brandy, this time, not the green stuff – and raised his glass to toast the empty room. "Congratulations, my girl," he said softly. "I'm proud of you."

Draining it, Oscar leaned back in his chair and noticed a crumpled bit of pink paper sticking out of Elphaba's envelope. It was small, just a note, and scrunched up as though it had been shoved in at the last moment, or through a small gap. Curious, he unfolded it, and it took a moment before he recognised that the curly, swirling script was Miss Glinda's.

Mr Diggs, it began:

I know Elphaba hasn't been writing to you much, but I want you to know that even though she isn't saying it, she's very happy with all that you've done already. I'm sorry for her rudeness, but you must understand how hurt she is by what happened that day. Please know that we're very grateful to you, and I'm sure that in time, she will come around.

Best wishes,
Glinda Upland of Clan Arduenna

Surprised and quite touched, Oscar looked at the little paper for several long moments before carefully filing it away with all of Elphaba's older letters. What a dear, sweet girl. So generous. Admittedly, the kind of child that Oscar had always imagined having, and for a fleeting, shameful moment he wished that Miss Glinda had turned out to be his daughter– but then he struck the thought aside, scolding himself, and simply promised to do something nice for his daughter's best friend.

But... Oh, Elphaba. She didn't make things easy. Clearly she wouldn't appreciate him making a fuss over her birthday, but it was perfectly reasonable for him to send something in congratulations for her achievement... wasn't it? He thought so, but would she? Would she accept anything from him? And what would he say?

Oscar's eyes roamed the desk, drawn to his pristine emerald stationary and the bright pink spark of Miss Glinda's note. He smiled and picked up the pen.

Miss Glinda,

Thank you very much for your letter. I hope that you are well, and that your new sorcery instructor is up to Madame Morrible's standards. I regret that I must ask you a favour...

That year, Elphaba's birthday fell on a fresh, sunny weekend in early spring. Not expecting anything special, she went about her business as usual, and although Nessa would, of course, have prepared a gift that she'd hand over in private sometime that day, Elphaba simply assumed that Glinda wouldn't recall the exact date she'd told Diggs and that Fiyero never knew it in the first place.

She was, of course, wrong.

Her friends had been conspiring in secret for well over a week, arranging everything that they (Glinda, mostly) had decided was absolutely necessary for a proper celebration. They weren't throwing a very big party – Elphaba wouldn't enjoy that – but a cake, wine, and several presents were called for, as well as absolute secrecy. As Glinda suddenly had to tend to a minor disaster at the baker's that morning and because having Nessa around would raise suspicion, Fiyero was left with the task of not only distracting Elphaba, but with keeping her far away from the dormitory.

He was quite enjoying it.

They were sitting outside, in the grass beside an old tree and near one of the smaller ponds. Other students were scattered around, some trying to catch up on assignments, some skipping rocks and chatting about nothing in particular. Elphaba, of course, was working, with several books lying open around her, while Fiyero stretched out on his back in the sun, hands laced comfortably behind his head. She was asking about Vinkun politics, and he was feeling very intelligent.

"But how can your government keep taking in jobless Animals without resorting to some sort of charity? Surely there isn't that much of a labour shortage in the Vinkus."

"There isn't," said Fiyero, eyes closed behind his sunglasses, "but for years my father's been itching to start all these agricultural projects that there just hasn't been time for – he thinks it's appalling that we have so much good soil sitting unused out there. Under the grasslands, I mean."

"Well I didn't think you'd start trying to farm the desert," Elphaba said dryly, closing the book on her lap. "But aren't you going to lose a lot of money employing labourers you don't really need?"

"Nope." He grinned, tilting his head back to look at her, upside-down. "We might be tribal heathens, Elphaba, but we're not poor. We can afford to employ a few thousand people for a couple of years, and Father's promised to eventually sell land rights to anyone who's willing to work one of the new farms. Besides, once all that grain and cotton and whatnot starts exporting, we'll have the turnover profits and the loyalty of a big workforce."

Elphaba leaned back against the tree trunk and stretched out her legs, glad she'd worn light summer shoes instead of her boots, because now she could poke him in the ribs. He jumped. "I didn't know you were so good with economics."

"I'm not, I hate it," said Fiyero, shuffling around to lean against her shin so she couldn't tickle him again. "But I had to learn – we didn't get to be the most powerful tribe in the Vinkus through blood and conquest."

"Really?" she asked. "The history books don't say much, but they make it sound like the Arjiki were just too powerful to be challenged."

He shook his head, hair tickling her leg. "We are now, but five centuries ago there were a hundred other little tribes that all wanted to come out on top. We absorbed them – sometimes through war, but mostly by intermarrying and monopolising trade. Now there are a handful of fairly big clans, but they don't rival us, so they swear loyalty and we give them seats on the council to keep them happy."

She smiled, but carefully shifted her legs out from under him and folded them closer to her body. "Do you think you'll like being king?"

Fiyero hesitated, then took off his sunglasses and rolled onto his stomach, oddly pensive. "You know, it's funny," he mused. "A year ago I would have said no, no way, never. But... well, after talking like this with you for months, about everything you're planning to do once you become vizier..." he shrugged. "It makes me think of all these things I want to see happen in the Vinkus."

He looked at her, and Elphaba met his gaze for a moment before glancing sharply away. Fiyero twisted fluidly and sat up.

"Then again," he said lightly, brushing at grass stains, "my brother has pretty much the same ideas and he actually wants the crown."

Elphaba's brow furrowed. "I thought you had a sister."

"I do, and two brothers – one's just a baby, though. I could abdicate in favour of any of them, and Father's already grooming Narjin for the job." He chuckled. "Every time I go home he and Mother drop heavy hints that it would be very easy for me to just step aside. Until now I was just holding out to tease them."

"And now?"

He shifted, almost awkwardly, and looked away as he settled himself against the tree trunk near her. "Now I'm not sure."

Elphaba said nothing, but Fiyero had the distinct impression that he was being analysed. Uncomfortable, he reached for the nearest book and flipped it open – it was her sorcery text. "Tell me what you're learning," he said.

She arched one of those expressive black eyebrows, but didn't call him out. "Theory, mostly. Madame Morrible was so busy trying to see what I could manage that she never really taught us the basics. Madame Lunnor's more practical; she insists that we understand every word of the spells before trying them." Her face darkened and she added, "Otherwise we can never reverse them."

The Monkeys. Fiyero winced. "I thought spells couldn't be reversed anyway."

"None can, if you cast them without thinking. Every word of the chants means something, and if we translate them, we can change the spell. Here, I'll show you." Reaching for her book bag, Elphaba glanced around at the other students before carefully pulling out the Grimmerie, which she usually kept locked in her dormitory. Leafing through it, her eyes swiftly scanned each page while Fiyero just felt dizzy, seeing the wild, colourful script that ran crazily up and down the margins of the paper. Several white sheets were tucked in between the old ones, covered what looked like half-finished translations. Glinda's handwriting made up a large part of it.

Finding the right spot, Elphaba removed a page of notes in a spidery script that he could at least read, if not understand. "This is the levitation spell," she said. "Madame Lunnor helped me figure out what went wrong. See here, and here? Those words define that the intention is flight – but what they literally mean is 'travel by air'. Look at this bit here," she said, tapping the bottom of the page. "Those are words that can be substituted to modify the spell. This is the one I should have used."

Fiyero laced his fingers with hers and squeezed her hand. "That would have made it temporary?"

"That would have just made them float, not grow wings," she replied. "No, to make a spell temporary you need to add extra phrases to the original casting. If I'd built in some sort of end-trigger – a set of specific words or some sort of time limit – then the wings would have fallen off; they would have been designed to. But I didn't, and there's no way to reverse magic once the spell has finished its task. You can't add to it."

She looked ready to fall into another one of her sulks, and that was something Fiyero just refused allow, especially today. "Show me?" he asked, nudging her and trying to look adorable. "Please?"

The dramatically overdone pout and big eyes were enough to make her laugh. She shoved him and shook her head. "Fine. Give me something you don't mind being destroyed if I make a mistake."

Fiyero hesitated, wondered if she was serious, decided not to test the theory, and picked up her quill.

"I meant something of yours."

"This way you'll be less likely to set it on fire. Go on."

Elphaba fought another smile, failed, and used the quill to scribble out a particular variation of the spell, checking it twice and showing him which words meant what, though they all sort of jumbled together in front of him. Then, setting it down, Elphaba focused on the quill and began to murmur, hands drifting lazily over it. Her voice took on a deeper, more melodic tone, and as the quill began to rise, a smile broke out across her face.

Using magic always did that to her, Fiyero realised. It made her so happy, in a way that diligently learning laws and patiently teaching Monkeys never could. It was something she was born to do.

Glinda loved casting, too.

Suddenly realising how close they were actually sitting – far too close for anyone other than his official girlfriend – Fiyero carefully shifted away. Elphaba, wrapped up in the spell, didn't seem to notice. Her eyes were focused on the feather and she bit her lip, pressure turning the dark green skin a faint purple, and after sending the quill above their heads in lazy circles, guided by her small wrist movements, she turned to him and grinned. "Sibu atum!" she declared, and it dropped to the grass, motionless.

Fiyero reached out and twirled it between his fingers, tickling his skin. "I'm impressed."

She beamed, unable to help herself, and suddenly Fiyero was struck by how lovely she really was. Not conventionally; she was neither beautiful nor exactly sexy, but just... pretty. Her loose hair fluttered around a face completely lit up by her smile. It wasn't the first time he'd noticed, but today it hit him like a punch to the gut, and he was deeply ashamed for having ever judged her by her skin. She was attractive – alluring, even – and in moments like this, when she was so completely herself, without any masks of anger or insecurity, Fiyero was convinced that he loved her.

But... he loved Glinda too.

Damn it. All this time spent with both girls, trying to figure out what exactly Elphaba was going to do with her new authority, had only served to muddle Fiyero's feelings further. He loved Glinda. It wasn't the same, more like what he felt for his sister, but he did love her. No matter how shallow their beginning, Fiyero cared about her more than almost anyone he'd ever met, and he didn't want to lose her, ever, but... their romance was already fading.

And he was falling for Elphaba. It was clichéd and sappy and he couldn't believe he was thinking it, but he, Fiyero Tiggular, was actually falling in love.

With Elphaba.

This was a Problem.

If nothing else, it wasn't fair to Glinda. She was convinced that he loved her, and even if nothing ever came of his feelings for Elphaba, she didn't deserve to play second fiddle to her best friend. Perhaps, in another life, he could have loved Glinda the way she wanted him to, but not now. Not anymore. Glinda was a vibrant, lively, charming person who didn't deserve to be anybody's second choice.

This had to end.

For a while longer, Fiyero and Elphaba chatted aimlessly in the dappled sunlight under their tree. She cast a few other simple spells for entertainment, surprising him by turning his vest a hideodious orange, and he made her laugh, attacking her with flying clumps of grass. All the while he kept an eye on the university clock tower, and at exactly seventeen minutes past two (why Glinda had picked that number he would never know), Fiyero suggested that they go and look for her roommate.

"She's probably in our room," said Elphaba, packing her book bag. "She said she had an essay to do after she finished shopping in town."

Fiyero raised both eyebrows – that was an interesting lie to pick. "You must be rubbing off on her."

She shrugged, looking pleased. "Maybe."

Strictly speaking, there was no rule at Shiz forbidding men from being in the women's dormitory, or vice-versa, but to do so anyway always earned some strange looks – amused ones, mostly, from the students, and some disapproving scowls from the faculty. Elphaba was uneasy, and tried once to keep him outside – "she might just be at the lake" – but Fiyero replied that he had to borrow a textbook anyway.

Any other person who knew it was their birthday and hadn't arranged something themselves would almost certainly have guessed, but Nessa was right – Elphaba never suspected anything. So, when she opened the door to see her room filled with coloured streamers, balloons and gift-wrapped presents, she was stunned.

"SURPRISE!" cried two voices, one notably more bubbly than the other. Glinda burst out from behind one bed, wearing bright colours with several flowers pinned in her hair, and Nessa, also dressed for the occasion, wheeled herself around a corner, beaming.

"Congratulations," she said, laughing at her sister's expression. "Happy twentieth."

Elphaba covered her gaping mouth. "But... you..." She blinked. "This is a birthday party?"

Fiyero, who had almost been forgotten behind her, said, "Well, it's too late for Lurlinemas." She turned to face him, and he chuckled. "Of course it is. Your birthday, in case you ask. Why else would we have 'Happy Birthday Elphaba' written on the cake?"

She spun back to see the frosted mountain that sat neatly in the middle of her desk, surrounded by a ridiculous number of presents. She took a step towards them, then another, then stopped and stared at her friends. "You did all this for me?"

"Of course," chimed two voices.

"Elphie," said Glinda seriously, bouncing on the bed, "you really need to learn what having friends means."

And she did. After being made to sit down between all three of them – and after trying to subtly rub some water from her eyes – Elphaba threw herself into the celebration, cutting the cake while laughing at the silly tradition, savouring the taste while asking how they knew she liked lemon so much (Nessa claimed credit), and cheerfully agreeing to try the wine that Fiyero insisted was one of the best Vinkun years yet.

It was, she felt, the best day of her life.

Once they'd eaten and chatted, having told the entire story of their secret mission (apparently the baker had mixed up their order with a cobbler's wedding cake and had to hurriedly re-ice the whole thing), an excited Nessa insisted that her sister start to open presents.

Suddenly feeling embarrassed, Elphaba said, "You really didn't need to do this."

"Yes we did," said Fiyero, and the girls murmured agreement.

"Pick one, Elphie," said Glinda, gesturing to the stack of oddly-shaped surprises. "Which one do you want to open first?"

Elphaba, feeling spoiled beyond all belief, shyly turned to the desk and looked them over. She pointed to the smallest box, which lay quietly next to a half-filled blue balloon. "That one," she said, and Glinda tensed.

Nessa, who was closest, handed it over, and Elphaba took off the paper carefully, amused by Fiyero insisting that such wrapping was meant to be torn. She didn't know enough about jewellery to recognise that the black velvet box was itself quite expensive, but when she lifted the lid and saw the starburst of glass triangles, her eyes widened in pure delight.

Lifting the silver chain from the box, she held it between her fingers, letting the pendant dangle in the sunlight. Her sister and Fiyero leaned in to look at it, Fiyero said, "Those are real diamonds," and Elphaba cradled the lovely trinket in her palm.

"It's beautiful," she said, looking up. "Glinda, did you...?"

"Do you like it?"

Elphaba looked back at her palm and nodded, letting them see, for just a moment, the small, girlish part of her that wanted so desperately to be beautiful. "I love it," she said. "But... Glinda, you shouldn't have."

"Oh, I didn't," said Glinda lightly, as Fiyero unlocked the clasp and fastened it around his friend's neck. "It's not from me."

Elphaba, who was holding her hair out of the way while Fiyero fiddled with the chain, frowned and looked at him. "Then... it's from you?" she asked, voice slightly strained with mixed emotions.

"It's from the Wizard," replied Glinda, and with a snap of the head she had her roommate's full attention. "He wasn't sure if you'd like it, so he sent it to me, and asked me to decide if we should give it to you. You do like it, so I guess I made the right choice."

Hardening, but unable to say anything in front of Nessa, Elphaba fingered the silver chain. She could hardly take back her words now – she did like it, and the same small part of her that wanted to be pretty did not want to give up the finest, most beautiful item she'd ever owned no matter who it was from. She could hardly be angry with Diggs for giving her a present, but it felt like accepting a bribe. More to the point, it felt like accepting him, as a part of her, a part of her life, and she didn't think she could do that.

...Then again, it was just a necklace.

At last she nodded and smiled slightly. "Thanks, Glinda."

The blonde girl beamed. "Don't thank me yet – thank me for this one!" she declared, pulling a larger gift from the pile. "Go on, open it. Open it, open it, open it!"

Laughing, Elphaba did so.

Two days later, a letter arrived at the Emerald Palace, bearing the postmark of Shiz University. Oscar opened it carefully, fingers shaking, and read the tiny note.

Thank you for the necklace. It's beautiful.
– Elphaba

He danced.