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 Ten
The State Ball

Year 21
Winter

Frexspar Thropp hated parties.

It wasn't that he was a spoilsport, or a belligerent old grump, but he simply couldn't stand busy, noisy gatherings that did nothing but waste his time. As the Regent Governor of Munchkinland, there were always a thousand things for him to do, and spending several hours sipping dry drinks and forcing smiles for vacant-headed noblemen grated on his nerves. True, sometimes it wasn't all that bad – not when he could find people to talk business with – but today was Lurlinemas, and no one but he was in the mood to discuss funding replacements for old bridges. Had he the choice, Frex would have left long ago, but his job required him to keep the favour of these otherwise-useless rich people, and walking out of their giddy little celebration could undo months of subtle work.

As he stood back and dully watched the swirl of people laughing and dancing in the Emerald Palace Ballroom, Frex allowed himself a moment to be sentimental, to remember his dear, dear Melena, who had – among many other things – always delighted in taking social duties off his hands. She would have loved this.

In all fairness, it was a good party. Apparently that the blonde girl, Glinda, had organised it, and it was clear to anyone who watched that she was absolutely delighted by its success. The white marble ballroom, already etched with glimmering green mosaics, had been festooned with the gold banners and flowers of Lurlinemas. The tall glass doors and windows that faced snowy gardens reflected a blurred mesh of strong colours as the guests moved about, the feathers and glitter on their clothes adding texture to the air. A string of tables lined one side of the room, opposite the orchestra, and standing gloriously in front of the north wall was a raised dais on which the Wizard's great throne sat.

The Wizard himself was not in it, but had instead descended one level, in his emerald cloak and silvery-white suit (as well as his favourite disguise of a kindly old man), to join the banquet table on the secondary dais, where Elphaba, Glinda, and their Vinkun friend – Fiyero – were sitting. Someone (Glinda, of course, though Frex neither knew nor cared) had taken up the less-than-original but fairly effective idea of dressing them all in exactly the same shades of green and silver, and though they each wore it in vastly different styles and proportion, it effectively made them seem like a unified whole.

That was probably the point. Though it was Lurlinemas and, in name, that was what everyone had gathered to celebrate, the Wizard had never thrown such a party before, and made no secret that this ball was actually a public welcome for the three newest members of his inner court – his dazzling little apprentice, the prince, and most unexpectedly, his new vizier.

Vizier. Grand Vizier, nonetheless. Frex shook his head, glancing yet again at his strange green daughter, who was sitting quietly in her tall, pointed hat. The Great Oz had announced it himself just that afternoon, standing on the Grand Balcony that jutted out from the palace and over the city's vast central square. Frex and his dear Nessa, under the impression that they had been invited only for a special Lurlinemas celebration, had been out seeing the sights when it happened, and were just as surprised as any when the Wizard had grandly introduced his apprentices as Lady this and Lady that. He'd given a brief speech on the need for more vigilant justice in their country before suddenly giving Elphaba – Elphaba, of all people – the responsibility of enforcing it.

It was, Frex thought, absurd. He would never doubt the Wizard's wisdom, of course, but he felt it was quite possible that their great leader was being too generous. Those girls were a mere six months out of university – what did they know about legal justice? They hadn't even studied the subject properly, as Nessa had – were they going to rely on their Vinkun friend for instructions? He seemed erratic at best, if what Frex had heard was true, and what would happen when tribal interests clashed with real justice? And really, what was the point of appointing sorceresses to any position of authority?

Obviously there was one, or else the Wizard never would have made such a decision, but Frex wished he knew what it was. Nessa was of a mind to ask her sister outright, but Frex doubted that she knew any more than they did. He admitted that Elphaba was very talented, magically, and had been congratulated often enough to know that this level of talent was rare, so he quite reasonably deduced that sheer power must be the qualification the Wizard had been looking for, and decided – in a fairly resigned manner – to trust that their wonderful leader knew what he was doing. At least it gave her something useful to do now that she was finished with school.

Alas for Frex, he would probably never get a satisfactory answer, mainly because he would never know that the job had been tailored especially for Elphaba. That being the case, it was probably good that he gave up his ponderings for a while and turned his attention back to what was actually happening around him.

Nessa was doing him proud, sitting very straight in her polished red chair as she spoke politely with some Gillikinese noblemen, and in a very difficult attempt to stop coddling his little girl, Frex was staying out of earshot, letting her charm the northerners on her own while he sipped his drink and looked around for entertainment.

There were many Animals in the crowd, though they were vastly outnumbered by humans, and the large dance floor was currently rather empty, for the orchestra was playing a very fast song, almost like a jig, for three pairs of Cats who were spinning, jumping, and kicking the steps far faster than any human could manage. It was an impressive sight, and when it was over Frex joined in the applause without feeling obliged to do so just because people were watching. The Cats made a special bow to Elphaba (because, he would later learn, she had pushed the orchestra into playing it for them), and then Miss– Lady Glinda stood and requested a particular reel – an unusually rural style, at least for this sort of white-tie affair – saying that they ought to give humans a chance to keep up. This earned some warm laughter and good-hearted cheers from the crowd, and Glinda skipped lightly down to the dance floor with the Vinkun boy in tow.

It was honestly amusing to watch as they and a dozen other couples – all also young people – stumbled around in a laughing struggle to remember the steps, and then, as soon as everyone had settled into a rhythm, scrambled to keep up with the ever-increasing tempo. Elphaba's friends weren't the first to trip and fall or simply give up, but they weren't the last, either, and as the music reached its climax, they applauded brightly for the two couples who had made it through the whole thing.

Normal music resumed, then – waltzes, mainly – and between subtle glances in Nessa's direction (an older woman and a young man had joined the discussion, both of whom were looking fairly impressed), Frex found himself watching the lower dais, where Glinda had flopped dramatically into her seat, draining a glass of water and miming exhaustion. The others – including the Wizard – laughed kindly, and they all smiled and chatted for a few minutes before Fiyero stood up again, clasping a green hand and trying very hard to wheedle its owner into a dance. Elphaba shook her head several times, smiling strangely all the while, and then, when Glinda lightly shoved her, gave in. Frex watched with surprise as the daughter he'd only ever known to be quiet and surly laughed outright, and joined the tide with somewhat clumsy, but obviously well-practiced steps.

"Father?"

Startled, Frex turned to see Nessarose rolling towards him in her stately chair. The other daughter was instantly forgotten. "How did it go?"

She beamed, but kept her reply modest. "I think they like me. Lady Rodmilla said I seemed a lot more mature than any other twenty-five-year-old she's known."

Nessarose was nineteen. Frex laughed loudly, kneeling beside her chair. "Do you know who told her your 'age'?" he asked, curious and planning to gather compliments when he corrected them. Nessa's smile faded.

"She guessed. They all know Elphaba is twenty-one."

Frex scowled, not because he disapproved of his green daughter's sudden fame – which he did – but because it was making Nessa unhappy. "Don't worry, my pretty," he said, taking her thin white hand. "You know what the people are like; they love anything they can gossip about. But you're soon to be Madame Governor, and that earns respect."

Usually, Nessa would have smiled at that and moved on, but this time she just kept on looking sad. "Why didn't she tell me about this, Father?" she asked quietly. "She used to tell me everything. Now it's always Glinda who knows things," she added with a faint sneer. Frex squeezed her hand and then, after making sure no one saw and spoiled Nessa's new reputation, leaned over and kissed her forehead.

"If Elphaba thinks she's found better friends, that's her mistake. One day she'll look back and realise just how special you are, and then she'll be sorry."

"But what if she doesn't come back?"

Frex hesitated, his eyes darting to the floor where Elphaba and the Vinkun were dancing by, slow enough to talk at the same time. In all honesty, he hoped she wouldn't, and justified that it would be the perfect solution – city life was appealing, after all, and maybe she could be of real help to the Wizard with her magic. They all knew she wasn't needed in Munchkinland, eldest child or no, but if Nessa wanted her...

"Of course she will."

Finally reassured, his daughter smiled again, and Frex softened as he saw in Nessa's face the soft curve of lips and cheek that was copied exactly from her mother. Melena's smile had been more quirky, more mischievous and childish, but the beauty was there, and for Frex that made his younger daughter more precious than ever.

As they moved around the room for the next twenty minutes, 'bumping into' several important people and charming them all with Nessa's delicate wit, Frex found himself pondering again, this time sadly. For the thousandth time he asked the Unnamed God why his sweet, beautiful child had to have been born a cripple. The notion that milkflowers might be responsible had long since been banished from his mind as an old wives' tale; all he thought about was that it should be Nessa out there on the dance floor, laughing with a handsome partner. Nessa deserved it, and was forever denied. Why?

Absently, Frex looked past their current circle of listeners and back at the floor. Directly across from him was the white dais, where Lady Glinda, now quiet, was resting her chin in her palm as she gazing around with a sad – or was that longing? – expression. Between them were the whirling dancers, but Elphaba, and her partner, were nowhere to be seen.

There is something silly, selfish, and altogether much too fun about sneaking out of a party being thrown in your name. It's even better when you don't escape alone, but are goaded and almost dragged by an accomplice who is more fun-loving and much less rule-abiding than you are. Add to that the fact that you've escaped into the picturesque palace gardens, at night, when they are empty but for moonlight, and that this person is looking for an excuse to kiss you, and, well, things become just about perfect.

Elphaba was not enough of a romantic to realise that this setting was stereotypical to the point of cliché, right down to the occasional winter rosebush nestled between snowed-down hedges, but Fiyero knew; he was perfectly aware of their surroundings and couldn't care less. Day after day of being flatly forbidden to so much as hold hands in public would grate on anyone's nerves, and Fiyero was a very tactile person – even if it was just a handshake, he had to touch people. The discretion she insisted on was frustrating, and quite frankly, the only reason he'd led her into the gardens was because he knew there would be a number of shadowed corners in which it was safe to kiss her.

Elphaba certainly wasn't complaining. Months of practice had bolstered her confidence in her own kisses, and taught her a few of Fiyero's quirks as well, all of which made her blush furiously just at mere thought. For one thing, his neck was sensitive; if she brushed the back of it with the pads of her fingers – like she was doing now, with her arms wrapped loosely around his shoulders – he would inevitably shudder, groan, tighten his arms, and kiss her harder. As she liked that very much, his neck suffered a fair amount of tickling.

Of course, he'd picked up a few tricks of his own, and being both more experienced and bolder, he used them shamelessly, always coming out with the upper hand. Neither minded, but in the moments before shyness crept back in Elphaba would pretend to scowl and declare that next time – oh, next time...

It was rare that she actually finished that sentence.

Today was one such occasion, so as she sighed and rested her cheek on the green fabric of his tuxedo, she told Fiyero, "Next time, I'm not falling for the ear trick."

He chuckled, and the noise echoed thickly through his chest, against which her ear was pressed. It was a strange, warm sound, and made her smile without even realising it. "You like it when I kiss your ear."

The inevitable shyness was returning, and her face heated as she buried it against his shoulder. She didn't answer.

"El-pha..." he prompted in a sing-song voice. When she still said nothing he paused, considered the idea of verbal sparring – then gave up, because she always won anyway – and leaned down to kiss the tip of her ear. She breathed in sharply and shuddered, and when she opened her eyes, leaning back, she was face-to-face with his triumphant grin.

"All right, all right," she grumbled. "I do like it. Happy?"

"Very. You're blushing again."

She scowled and pressed both icy hands against her cheeks, willing them to fade to their normal green. All that actually happened was that her fingers got colder, and it was no wonder, what with them both having escaped into the snow without so much as a coat. Fiyero was all right, with the multi-layered tuxedo and closed shoes, but Elphaba's dress was thin velvet (which could be blame on Glinda, who'd chosen the fabric) that was soaking up from the floor-length hem (Glinda insisted) with half-melted snow that was squelching under her useless dancing slippers (also, of course, from Glinda). The advantage was that she had a perfectly valid excuse for spending their entire walk tucked under Fiyero's warm arm.

It wasn't a very long walk, sadly, for even though the gardens were extensive and it took several leisurely minutes just to reach the smooth stone wall that ringed it, both knew they couldn't be gone very long without somebody noticing – and in fact, neither of them were aware of just how fast some of the sharper observes would notice their absence. Still, the peace was alluring, as was the chance to be alone together, and party be damned, neither of them were wasting it.

Unfortunately, it was during one of their longer, more intense kisses that eight months worth of luck finally ran out, and someone saw them – someone who had not only come out looking for them, but who was, at least in Elphaba's mind, the worst witness imaginable.

It wasn't Glinda. It wasn't even a reporter. It was Frex.

"ELPHABA!"

Pinned between a warm body and the cold stone wall, Elphaba could not jump, but she stiffened and yanked her arms back to her chest, cheeks blazing. She didn't know what to say. Fiyero, on the other hand, had dealt with irate fathers before.

"Governor Thropp," he said evenly, respectfully, taking half a step backwards. "Good evening."

"Isn't it," said Frex flatly. His eyes flickered over the prince, then settled on Elphaba with a sort of horrified fury that his apparent daughter had never seen before.

"Father–"

"How dare you?"

Though it wasn't directed at him, Fiyero answered anyway: "I promise you, sir, there's nothing indecent here."

Elphaba blinked, breaking her father's gaze long enough to stare at him. He'd just had her backed up against a wall – how could he possibly declare that to be "nothing indecent"?

Frex didn't seem to care. His eyes were fixed on Elphaba, and Fiyero found that strange, since usually he was considered to be the only one at fault. "Governor?"

"Excuse us. Please. I want a word with my daughter."

Now thoroughly baffled, Fiyero looked at Elphaba, who was equally so. She hesitated, then said, "Glinda will be wanting another dance anyway."

Nodding, Fiyero withdrew, but couldn't resist kissing her hand as he left, just because. To his surprise and annoyance, Frex ignored that, too.

Silence lingered until the prince was out of earshot, and then Frex began to seethe. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm not a child, Father," said Elphaba quietly. "He's a good–"

"I don't care why you want him," snapped Frex, stepping closer and pointing a finger at her. "This is wrong."

"It's my life."

"And you have a moral duty, especially now. You cannot use magic to make people like you!"

Her eyes widened, then narrowed. "What?"

"Did you really think no one would notice? Whatever love spell or potion you're using to make him want you, stop."

"I'm not using a–"

"Don't lie to me," snapped Frex. "This is illegal. I'll inform the Wizard if I have to."

"You wouldn't dare," said Elphaba, and it was a fact, not a challenge. "I know you, too, Father – you'd be too humiliated to ever bring that sort of shame on the family."

He grabbed her arm, just as he had done every time she'd misbehaved since she was little, and it shook her cold confidence. "Don't be so selfish," he growled. "Think of your sister."

Something broke inside her; something painful. Wrenching herself free, she said, "Nessa will be fine. She has you."

Then she was gone.

Fiyero was lingering outside one of the tall glass doors when Elphaba returned, storming out of the shadows and back into the noisy golden light. Her jaw was rigid and her eyes hard, but when she took his offered hand, it was gripped with the desperation of a lifeline.

"Elphaba? What happened?" he asked, glancing around for the missing governor. "You all right?"

"Do you trust me, Fiyero?" she asked, looking him straight in the eye.

His brow furrowed in confusion, but he nodded. "Of course I do."

Closing her eyes, she nodded slowly. Then, seeming to draw strength from his words, she straightened up and took a deep breath, forcing her posture to relax; she even put on an almost-convincing smile. "Let's go," she said, nodding at the warm light inside. "I don't want anyone wondering where we've been."

Morning found Elphaba sitting quietly in her apartment, curled in a stuffed armchair with a book on her lap. She had been up for a while, almost since before light had broken in through the broad windows that filled an entire wall of her parlour. This suite of three rooms – an identical reflection of Glinda's, right next door – had been prepared for her by Oscar some months in advance, and she had to admit that she liked it. The bed and bathrooms were nothing special; functional, comfortable, and nowhere near as ostentatious as in the rooms she had borrowed on earlier visits. The parlour was bigger but had a sense of cosiness, thanks to a small fireplace and the couch arranged in front of it. There were a few subdued pieces of art on the walls, which Elphaba mostly ignored, and row after row of bookshelves. Most were empty for now, but the Grimmerie and a good many other texts were already nestled in place, and it created an atmosphere that Elphaba felt she could relax in.

She needed it. She hadn't slept well, despite turning in early, and had woken at dawn horrified and convinced that she really had been using her magic on Fiyero, and that he was struggling to escape it. A hot bath had calmed her, but she hadn't been able to shake the sick feeling that maybe it was true anyway – maybe she'd used her magic unconsciously, somehow, to get what she wanted. It had happened before, after all, and–

No. Those incidents had never been subtle – summoning Nessa's chair, lashing out at a tutor, mending the tear that would have had her father screaming about wasting money on new clothes – they had all been quick, sharp and noisy. Never subtle. Fiyero was happy and he wanted to be with her. Frex was just making wild guesses.

But it was exactly the sort of thing she feared people thinking, and it only doubled her determination to never let this... this whatever-it-was – this relationship – become public.

A loud rapping noise startled her, and she jumped before realising that it was just someone knocking on the door. Marking her page, she slowly walked over to open it. Glinda was waiting outside, perfectly groomed and utterly horrified. "Your hair!"

"What?" asked Elphaba, brow furrowed as she reached up to her head. Oh. It was still tangled from the bath.

"Elphie, what were you thinking?" cried Glinda, barging in and kicking the door shut behind her. "This is your first official day as Grand Vizier – you can't go out looking like that."

Passively, for she knew better than to argue, Elphaba allowed her friend to drag her by the wrist into the bedroom, then sat down as Glinda snatched up the lone hairbrush from her dresser. "We'll be late for breakfast," she grumbled.

"They'll wait," assured Elphaba, finger-combing a few tangles out. Glinda slapped her hand away and plopped down on the wide bed, sitting behind her friend and hurriedly brushing through every lock of long black hair. "You know, I can do this myself," said Elphaba after a minute. "If you want to go ahead and eat, I'll catch up."

Glinda hesitated, busying her fingers with separating the sections for a simple style. Then she admitted, "I'm afraid I'll get lost again."

Her friend chuckled. "You are so bad with directions," she said fondly. Glinda sighed.

"I know. It's horrendible. Do you know I ended up in the east wing last week just trying to find Fiyero's room?"

Now Elphaba blinked. "He's only one floor away. There aren't even any turns."

Glinda blushed and evaded explanations by tying off the half-braid with a flourish and spreading the loose sections of hair over Elphaba's shoulders. "There! Good enough. Let's go and eat."

Another laugh. "Let's."

With Elphaba leading, it took them only a few minutes to get from the wing housing their suites to the informal dining room attached to Oscar's. It had become a habit, in these last few months, for the three of them and Fiyero to have breakfast together before going off to do whatever it was they had to do that day. Oscar was the busiest, of course, with dozens of advisors and barons and ministers wanting attention, but he had never once missed a meal, so it was a surprise to find themselves standing in an empty room.

They were expected, obviously, for the table was laden with several hot dishes perfect for breakfast on a cold day, but neither the Wizard nor Fiyero was anywhere in sight.

Hungry, Glinda didn't much care. She just sat down and lifted one platter's lid to reveal a thick, steaming porridge, which she scooped up eagerly. Elphaba was still feeling a little sick from her dream, but filled a bowl anyway, avoiding the extra sugar and other touches that would have added taste to it. They had only just finished pouring themselves a glass of juice each when the door opened behind them.

Oscar came in, holding several newspapers and looking quite jolly. He was wearing the simplest clothes he could currently get away with (the seamstresses had somehow been wheedled into making fancy versions of his 'other world' clothes, which, unlike the robes, he was actually able to walk in), and approached the round table with a spring in his step.

"Good morning, girls!" he chirped. Elphaba shook her head, somewhat amused.

"Good morning," she echoed, followed shortly by Glinda, who had to swallow a mouthful of porridge first. "You're twitching," she observed dryly. "What's the good news?"

"You are, my dear," Oscar replied, unfolding the papers and passing them around. They were morning editions of the city's three major newspapers – The Ozian Times, the Emerald City Today and The Herald – each of which was plastered with a large photo of the announcement balcony and some variant of, WIZARD APPOINTS GRAND VIZIER!

Glinda squeaked and reached for them, and Elphaba let out a long breath. "Have you read them?" Oscar nodded. "And?"

"We're off to a good start," he replied merrily. "They weren't quite as enthusiastic as I'd hoped, but that's journalism for you. They're more surprised by the new position than who I've appointed to it, which I imagine pleases you."

She nodded. "Have they said anything about the Animal issues?"

"Not directly," Glinda told her, speed-reading as she spoke. "This one calls you an 'activist' and mentions that you freed that Lion cub – don't make a face, Elphie, I know you're making a face, and we knew they'd look up your history – and anyway, they're painting it in a good light." She checked the by-line. "No wonder; it's Rual Herbrin. He's a Fox. He's been writing pro-Animal articles since before I was born."

"Do you know everyone, Glinda?" asked Oscar with warm surprise. She smiled and gave a little shrug.

"They barely mention you and Fiyero in this one," said Elphaba, who had the Times shoved awkwardly between the many dishes of the breakfast table. "They make it sound like any change is a bad change."

"The Times is conservative," said Glinda dismissively. "They'll just be trying to keep their old-fashioned readers from getting grumpy. Let me see it." She read, swallowing another two mouthfuls of sweet porridge before declaring, "It's the uncertainty. Listen – 'an unprecedented and unusual addition to our government hierarchy'. They mean that yesterday's speech wasn't very clear on what exactly we're going to be doing."

"Hmm. I suppose I could have been a bit more specific," said Oscar, leaning sideways to look at the sentence Glinda pointed out. "Still, maybe it's better this way. If they think they know your limits they could try to corner you, and saying you two have all the executive power in Oz would frighten them."

"It frightens me," muttered Elphaba, but she didn't argue.

They continued eating and reading for a while longer before the last member of their little party finally stumbled in, bleary-eyed and yawning. He wore fresh clothes and his hair was still damp from the shower, but other than that he moved like the walking dead. He mumbled a "good morning" that came out more like "g'murfnin" before dropping into his chair and reaching for the coffee.

"You look awful," said Elphaba the ever-subtle.

"Mrph," replied Fiyero, swallowing a large and scalding gulp. "Sorry. Didn't sleep."

"At all?" asked Glinda.

"Nnn." He suppressed another yawn, blinking and shaking his head. "No. Was out all night with the Garllon twins."

"Earl Garllon's sons?"

Fiyero nodded. "Knew them at Quox College. We played billiards. Nollo cheated." Swallowing another gulp, he looked around and actually saw them, and smiled slightly as he reached into his pocket. "Got an unexpected bonus, too."

The item he tossed towards them (and which was almost lost in the jug of fruit juice) was a long, thin, wrinkled piece of paper. Elphaba glanced at it; it was a very long bar bill.

Oscar chuckled. "No wonder you're ill."

"Hey, most of it was them. Lanik and Nollo are so sloshed right now they won't remember a thing, including this. Look on the back," instructed Fiyero, grabbing some dry toast and chewing it. "I did something useful."

The reverse side of the paper had been split into five sections by scratches of dark green ink. Each had an initial or two scrawled at the top, with the rest of the words – all names of towns under Earl Garllon's jurisdiction – having been added later in neater writing and a different ink. Below that each section had two columns of numbers, varying from single digits to dozens and a few hundreds.

"Left is the residents, right is the workers," added Fiyero.

Glinda's brow furrowed. "...This is... the Animal population?"

His mouth now full of toast and jam, Fiyero nodded, glancing at Elphaba, who was suddenly delighted. He swallowed. "I don't think they know their father's been lying to us. It wasn't hard to get them talking about worker taxes."

"Not with that much liquor in them," observed Oscar with a grin. "Well done, son!" he exclaimed, clapping Fiyero's shoulder. Fiyero winced.

"Not so loud," he whimpered.

Oscar apologised. "Now, while we're on the subject of good news," he said to the girls, in an obligingly soft tone, "I think I've found the perfect mission for you two to make a first impression with."

"'Mission'?" said Elphaba, one eyebrow raised.

"Job, then, if you prefer. Mayor Darlton tells me there's some sort of neighbourhood squabble over in the southeast district." He waved his hand absently towards the window, which actually faced west. "Apparently not too serious at its core, but the entire area is up in arms over it."

"Animals versus humans?" Elphaba asked cynically.

"No, actually, there's nothing all that racial about it. I think one of the plaintiffs is a Leopard, but that's about it. There are humans siding with him too."

Glinda took another sip of juice. "What's happened?"

"Darlton's not entirely sure. Something financial, maybe with a personal grudge. You'll have to find out and see that it's settled fairly–" he nodded to Elphaba "–and to everyone's satisfaction–" Glinda. He paused, looking around rather cheekily, and as he sipped juice he added, "Of course, if that doesn't work, you could always get them drunk."

Fiyero glared.