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 Fourteen
Good Deeds

Year 23
Spring

Elphaba rolled over in bed, grumbling under her breath and thumping the pillow that refused to lump comfortably under her head. She couldn't sleep. The room was too hot, its fireplace still a happily crackling yellow, and her mind was filled with worries.

The vast majority of legal changes she had demanded almost four years ago had finally finished being integrated into Ozian law, and as Oscar had warned, they had led to a backlash of other, less predictable problems. It was becoming sadly clear that, no matter how firmly she stood or how kindly Glinda lectured, some people were simply refusing to let go of their bias. Thankfully this stubbornness hadn't asserted itself as violence – there had been a handful of scuffles and a few more vicious incidents, but for a country the size of Oz, that was impressively low. Instead there were quieter, sneakier methods at work – ones which, strictly speaking, were not illegal at all.

Human employers, for example, who conducted interviews as part of their selection process, were refusing to hire Animals on the basis of minor and usually very subjective faults. This trick, and others like it, had caused the number of letters ending up on Elphaba's desk to triple in the last month or so, and tension throughout the country was slowly mounting. It was a tricky problem: she could hardly deny employers the right to evaluate potential staff, but neither could she write a thousand little laws to fill each potential loophole. Something had to be done, though, and as she lay curled in the sheets well after midnight, Elphaba thought through option after option, looking for something, anything, worrying endlessly about how she was ever going to–

A warm hand snaked its way around her from behind, covering her eyes, and Fiyero kissed the back of her neck.

The tension that had just been so overwhelming drained away like water. She smiled, tilting her head back and towards him as a lovely warm tingle danced its way through her body. For a moment she kept still, simply enjoying the feeling, then rolled onto her back to look at him. "I thought you were asleep," she said.

Lying on his side, propped up by one elbow, Fiyero shrugged. "I was," he replied lightly. "So were you. Then you started tossing and turning and hit my face with this." He lifted the ends of her long hair and raised one eyebrow. Elphaba winced.

"Sorry."

He waved it off. "Eh, didn't hurt," he said, leaning forward to kiss her ear. "But I know you; you're never restless unless you're worried about something." Another kiss, this on her jaw. "What is it?"

She hesitated, idly toying with his sleep-mussed hair, then shrugged and said, "The employment evaluations. I don't think writing a new law will work. Unless those people actually learn to accept Animals as equals, they'll just keep on–"

Suddenly he pulled back, staring at her in surprise and looking almost offended. "That's what you think about when you're in bed with me?"

Elphaba blinked in surprise, but the twinkle of humour in his expression, which he was trying hard to make pathetic and wounded, made her lips turn up into a laugh. "Well, what did you think it was?" she chuckled, shifting to lie on her side and face him, cuddling close enough to promise that no harm was meant. He shrugged.

"Considering where we are and what we've been doing... oh, maybe something to do with me? With us as a pair?"

"But there's nothing wrong with you," she replied, lifting her head to kiss him once, twice, and then a third, lingering time. "Or with us. Why would I worry about it?"

He raised a quirky eyebrow. "So I'm perfect?" he asked, grinning.

She chuckled, but pretended to take the question seriously. "Hmmm... I'm not sure. You do have an annoying habit of stealing all the blankets."

"This," he pointed out, "is my bed."

"And when we're in mine?" she retorted, but that question was never answered; Fiyero had decided that if he was going to be blamed for something, he might as well do it right, and started pulling all the covers towards himself. Elphaba, who had managed to twist herself up in the sheets with all that tossing and turning, was dragged along. She yelped, then tried to untangle herself from the bindings, only to realise that Fiyero was playfully wrapping his newly-seized blankets back around her in such a way that all her wriggling was only binding her more tightly in the cocoon. "Fiyero!"

He laughed, sitting back under his own share of the covers with a self-satisfied grin. "What? Now you can't possibly get cold."

Elphaba, trying hard not to let her own amusement show, looked at him sternly and said, "I can't move." He didn't respond, and after a moment of silence she asked, "You're not going to leave me like this, are you?"

"Hmmm..." he teased, mimicking and exaggerating her habit of thoughtful chin-tapping. She glared, chewing down the laugh that was pulling on her lips, and then he chuckled. "Nah," he said, unwinding her with warm, tickling hands before pulling her into a hug and nuzzling her neck. "I couldn't. I love you too much."

She smiled against his skin, closing her eyes and happy just to listen to the sound of those words. Fiyero held on a moment longer, fingertips tracing light patterns across her back, but then he extracted himself, lying down and shuffling under the covers, looking unhappy.

Elphaba's brow furrowed. "What is it?"

"Eh... nothing," he said, shaking his head and looking up at the ceiling, one arm bent to rest on the pillow above his head. "I have to leave in the morning," he said. "There's been another scare attack on travellers on the Yellow Brick Road and they still have no idea if it's an animal or an Animal."

"I know," said Elphaba, still puzzled as she rolled to lie on her stomach, propped up on both elbows and watching him; "I read the last report. That's not what's bothering you." When he didn't answer she shuffled closer, resting her chin on his chest and looking at him. "Fiyero, what is it?"

He sighed, seeming both relieved and reluctant to answer. "Not everything with us is perfect," he said, still looking up and away from her. "I told you I love you. I do that a lot, but you... you never say it back. Or if you do it sounds like an echo – like you have to just because I've said it. You hide. You won't even let me touch you unless we're in a locked room while Glinda lets me hug her in public even though she's still madly trying to convince the press that we're not together."

Elphaba looked away miserably. "I'm sorry," she said. "I wish it didn't have to be this way."

"It doesn't," he replied. "Maybe it did last year, when we were all new to this job, but things are different now. No one's going to think it's political, or that we just want each other's power. It would only be about us."

"That's just it!" she stressed, taking his hand and squeezing. "Fiyero, this is the first time in my life that I can walk down the street without being stared at. People see me and they smile – they thank me for things. You don't know what it's like when they point and whisper and..." she shook her head. "I don't know if I could stand that again."

At last he turned to her. "Elphaba," he said seriously. "That's not going to happen, all right? It's not like I'm asking you to shout it from the rooftops – I don't really care if they know or not. I just wish that you'd act like you love me."

"But... you know I do," she said, brow furrowed as she ran her thumbs over the back of his hand. "I'm not... pretending, or anything. I wouldn't be here if I didn't mean it."

"I know," said Fiyero, "but sometimes it would be nice to actually hear you say it."

Her gaze dropped. She'd known, of course, that he said such things far more often than she did, and she'd known, on some level, that she really ought to be giving more back, but... it was so easy to assume that he said them because she needed hear it, whereas he was much too sure, of himself and of their relationship, to ever need such reassurance.

Apparently not. It wasn't the same, of course – he wasn't lying there trembling with insecurity – but he did need something. He needed to hear the words, to be offered a gesture of affection without asking for it, and Elphaba, who rarely bothered stating the obvious herself, had never realised just how important such a thing might be.

A moment passed in silence, and she just watched his face. Then, slowly, she sat up, shifting under the blankets until she could lean over him, eye-to-eye and nose-to-nose. Carefully, deliberately, and with far more ease than she'd expected, Elphaba said, "I love you."

He smiled, a small puff of breath escaping him as he looked at her, tilting his head sideways and touching her chin. "Say it again."

Her eyes flittered away for a moment, almost shy, but she looked back at him and said, "I love you."

Fiyero smiled, lightly tracing her mouth, and lifted himself high enough to kiss her. "Again?"

She broke into a smile. "I love you."

He kissed her properly, arms snaking around her shoulders and pulling her down to him. "Again."

"I love you," breathed Elphaba, between kisses. "I love you, Fiyero. I love you. I love you..."

They didn't say much else that night.

The next day, as promised, Fiyero was up early, dressing in older and sturdier clothes than usual before gathering his things and tip-toeing out of the room, leaving Elphaba to sleep on in peace. He was heading for the palace barracks, where he had arranged to meet some of the soldiers who had been escorting a noblewoman during the most recent of these strange and unprovoked attacks.

"Attacks" might be too strong a word, though; as yet no one had been hurt, just frightened witless by an unknown being who was haunting the darker pars of the eastern forest. The first reports had filtered in months ago, nothing more than oddities to be puzzled over before being set aside in favour of more important issues. Then, a few weeks back, a more alarming claim had been made by the deputy chairman of one of the Emerald City's larger private companies. He and his wife had apparently been forced to cancel their trip to Munchkinland after some thing had yowled at and threatened them as they began their journey down the Yellow Brick Road. The deputy chairman wasn't an important man, but thought he was, and had kicked up a huge fuss about the matter. The result was quite a bit of extra work for Glinda, who had spent three days smiling brightly and assuring everyone that the Wonderful Wizard and his Grand Vizier were giving the matter their full attention. The four of them had already been looking into the danger, of course, but quietly, trying not to frighten people; once the newspapers had latched onto the story, there was really no choice but to put on a big show about it, since apparently even the Captain of Guard wasn't good enough to assure fretting nobles of their safety (whether they were actually going anywhere near the forest in question or not). That meant that someone with a public and easily recognisable face would have to see it personally.

That person was Fiyero.

To be honest, he didn't mind this particular job in the slightest. It had been far too long since he'd had a chance to practice his more down-to-earth skills, and being stuck in the City for weeks on end always left him feeling stifled. He wasn't the most brilliant hunter the Arjiki could offer, but he certainly outstripped these city boys in their highly-polished, embroidered little uniforms. Besides, he was looking forward to the chance to show off, just a little.

The Captain of the Guard, a swarthy man named Belor, had been offended to hear that he was to be ousted by a civilian for this venture, especially since this particular civilian had recently turned down what he considered to be a very prestigious commission. That Fiyero was Heir Apparent of the Vinkus and a far more experienced tracker than Belor was irrelevant, and if it hadn't been a direct order from the Wizard, he probably would have refused to give the prince command over any of his men at all. As it was, when Fiyero stepped lightly into the barracks, dressed in dull off-greens with a practical-looking pack on his back, Belor just scowled.

A lieutenant named Cherrystone, the highest ranked of all those who would actually be travelling with Fiyero, approached with a somewhat less antagonistic expression. "Your Highness," he said, saluting. "Your team is assembled and awaiting orders."

"You lot get up early," noted Fiyero, stifling a yawn and looking around at the other men in the room, all of whom were dressed and ready – but only some, he noticed, carried rifles or supply packs; the rest were busy with what looked like daily chores. "Just how many of us are there?" he asked.

"Eight men, sir, including you and I."

Fiyero's brow raised, and he glanced sideways at Belor, who stood with his back to them, huffing over a duty list and generally acting very childish. "I take it your captain doesn't feel like sparing any more of you then he has to."

Cherrystone glanced down, evidently not wanting to be caught in a spat between two commanders. His shoulders stayed very stiff. "Captain Belor is proud to serve the Wizard as best he can. As are we, Your Highness."

"Uh huh," said Fiyero sceptically, looking over the six men who had come to stand at attention nearby. All of them, with the possible exception of Cherrystone, seemed... young. Really young. Maybe not always in terms of age, but they all had the look of fresh-faced rookies just out of training. Hoping that appearances were indeed deceiving, Fiyero asked, "Does that mean you lot are the best Captain Belor has to offer me?"

The lieutenant shifted uncomfortably. "We are the only ones who have actually encountered the beast, Your Highness. Captain Belor thought our experience would be of value to you."

Translation: They were new recruits and Belor didn't care about who was sent off with the Winkie Prince just as long as he was seen to do his part. Fighting the urge to groan, Fiyero settled for rolling his eyes. "Right," he said flatly. "Well, let's get going."

Their journey down the Yellow Brick Road wasn't a long one, which was good, since Captain Belor had apparently seen no reason to supply them with horses for the day either. The eastern forest (which, for some obscure political reason, had never been properly named) actually jutted out quite far, and its artificially sharp tree line was well within sight of the Emerald City. The golden road, which spilled from under the heavy green shade like a tongue, curved so as to cut through the thinnest possible section of woods, allowing a carriage or wagon moving at average pace to make it from one side to the other within a few hours. According to reports, few people had been attacked right in the middle of the forest; whether on the City side or nearer to Munchkinland, most encounters with the creature had occurred only a short distance in, far enough that the sky was blocked out but close enough to turn back with little effort.

"Which," said Fiyero, "makes me think that whoever this is really only wants to scare people off." He looked around the men walking with him, hoping that maybe this topic – since it was actually relevant to their job – might manage to start up a friendly conversation. When no one answered he added, "Don't you think?"

The man he'd addressed at random was the team's medic – one of six ensigns that Cherrystone was theoretically in charge of – and one who was obviously unsettled by the utter lack of concern his temporary commander had shown for rank, marching formations, terms of address, and now, apparently, the code of conduct. His eyes flickered to the lieutenant, then at his peers, then back at Fiyero. "I... er... maybe," he stammered. "Sir."

Scintillating. That was about two words more than the last one had managed. Still, Fiyero wasn't the type of man to have any trouble holding conversations all on his own. "So then it's probably an Animal, not an animal," he went on, habitually changing the emphasis, "though I can't figure out why anyone would bother spending months on end doing nothing but try to keep people from travelling. He's not very good at it, either. You know how many people take this road every day? I mean, it's not packed, obviously," he said, gesturing to the mostly-empty countryside around them, "but it's used all the time, and at least four out of every five people make it through without any trouble at all. I didn't see any pattern in the ones that did get stopped, either – did you?"

He addressed this question to Cherrystone, who, probably just by virtue of being the highest ranked, had been the most talkative, not that that was saying much. "No pattern that I noticed, sir," he replied with a curt nod.

"So then you agree – this looks like a completely pointless and random series of attacks that never did any harm and didn't target any particular people?" pressed Fiyero.

"Only humans have been ambushed, sir, but considering how many more humans take this route than Animals, I don't find that surprising."

His clipped, precise tone indicated – in a very polite, subordinate sort of way – that he didn't expect to be saying more on the matter. Grumbling audibly, just loud enough to make sure they all heard it, Fiyero hitched the pack a little higher on his back and kept on walking.

The towering trees weren't far off, and considering the attacker's habits, it was fair to assume that he could be waiting very close to the edge, and was perhaps able to see them already. As they approached the first trees, Fiyero slowed his pace and the seven soldiers followed suit. Almost in unison, they unstrapped their rifles and checked that bullets were loaded, and without taking his eyes from the shadowy woods Fiyero said, "Just remember, we're not here to kill anyone. If this is an Animal, I don't want to hurt him if we don't have to."

"What if it's gone wild, sir?" asked Cherrystone reasonably. "Mad, even?"

"Then we don't want to look like a threat," Fiyero replied. He was feeling very Vinkun at the moment, falling back into the comfortable certainly of old habits and tribal training; without thinking about it, he knew exactly what he was looking for, and knew that it wasn't in the trees spread out before them. "Come on," he said, stepping forward on golden bricks, "let's go in."

All eight of them walked cautiously, trying to keep up the appearance of normalcy. Before leaving they had decided that an obvious search would be a bad idea, and so were pretending that Fiyero was travelling to Munchkinland on business with a personal guard, just as Lady Rodmilla had been during the last attack. Hence, while the soldiers all had their rifles out in the standard marching position, Fiyero appeared to be unarmed. He did have a small six-round pistol hidden under the long flap of his coat, and the staff he was using as a walking stick could serve as an extra weapon if necessary, but by and large the ruse depended on making him look like very tempting bait.

As they moved steadily on, avoiding the persistent little plants that were already growing up between yellow bricks, Fiyero quietly asked, "Where exactly were you during the attack?"

"Er... about thirty paces from the forest edge," answered Cherrystone. "I'd just sent Mavrus ahead to estimate how much farther we had left, and that's what he reported when he got back. Sir."

"So whoever this is chose to attack when you were separated," mused Fiyero, very softly, eyes still scanning the trees. "Makes sense. What else do you remember that wasn't in the report?"

"Little, sir," said Cherrystone, gesturing for his men to keep their guns from creeping higher as they walked, despite the nervousness that made it so tempting. "We never saw much, just the large shape I described. It was mostly noise, coming from somewhere in the trees."

"But you're sure it was just one creature?"

"I think so, sir. It was all over very fast."

"Hmmm..." Fiyero frowned and looked around the soft earth and brush on either side of the path. He avoided making lots of suspicious glances up and trusted the soldiers to watch his back for now. Many of the plants showed signs of having been roughly walked through, both recently and quite some time ago, and there was a bit of fur caught in the bark of a tree. Though not everyone would recognise the significance, the damage was all quite easy to spot, and in fact, it looked more like it had been trodden through by an army than crept through by a stealthy hunter. Whoever this was, he clearly hadn't been taught even the simplest methods of covering his tracks, and since animal instincts generally kept them from leaving such an obvious trail in the first place, Fiyero was now more or less certain that they were dealing with an Animal.

That meant their target was intelligent and, judging by its erratic behaviour, very, very dangerous.

At this point, the wisest course of action would have probably been to retreat, or at least clump together so that they could watch for danger in all directions at once. Fiyero, however, had never been one for convention. On impulse, for no reason other than that his instincts told him so, he suddenly changed their strategy.

"Spread out," he said in a hushed tone. "Go in pairs; two of you stay on the road, everyone else go into trees, but not far. Keep your weapons ready but don't shoot unless one of our lives is in danger." He paused for a moment, using the cover of a large-leafed bush to check his pistol, quickly thinking through the new ruse. "Make it seem like we're looking for something – pretend Rodmilla lost an earring, or something like that. Talk."

"...Talk, sir?"

"Talk. Out loud, but don't make it obvious you want him to hear. Pretend to search but don't stray too far. Got it?"

The men murmured tentative agreement and fanned out. Cherrystone went with Fiyero and they moved off the road, boots sinking slightly in the very soft earth, eyes flickering between it and the half-hidden branches above. Around and behind them, the ensigns were following orders, murmuring to each other about the supposedly missing earring – and, Fiyero was pleased to note, about the recent Quoxball match, which the Emerald City had lost spectacularly to Western Gillikin. Things sounded normal, and that was as it should be. Fiyero hoped that their elusive Animal target – whom he was certain was close, judging by the messy feline paw prints he was surreptitiously following – would be fooled by the chatter, and react as he had before, with the loud noises and clumsy threats that had so terrified other travellers moving through the forest in this manner.

Unfortunately, while Fiyero had predicted his target's behaviour perfectly, he wasn't quite so accurate when it came to his men. He had learned his skills out among more experienced Arjiki tribesmen, but never instructed a group, and as such, just wasn't used to being responsible for people who could misinterpret a situation, misjudge it, or simply panic.

"It's there! THERE! LIEUTEN–!"

Fiyero barely had time to spin in their direction before–

Crash.

Grunt.

"Mavrus!"

Bang!

"RWAAAAAAAARRR!"

Sprinting towards the sound – and two frightened-looking but unharmed ensigns – Fiyero bellowed, "DON'T SHOOT!"

If nothing else, these men could follow orders. The one who had strayed too far from his partner and made himself into unwitting bait was very white, but as Fiyero and the others arrived, he pulled himself together enough to point shakily in one direction. "H-he went that way. Some sort of Cat."

"Are you hurt?" asked Cherrystone, while the others moved to search again.

The ensign shook his head, still breathing hard. "He just knocked me over."

More strange behaviour; any Cat big enough to make such a roar and topple a man down could easily have killed him, but instead it had simply run off. It wasn't hunting, then, and apparently didn't see them as too big a threat... but it was still gone.

Grimacing, Fiyero looked around, and when that failed he gestured to the others for silence and just listened. Over the heavy breathing of his human companions and the crackle of twigs crushed underfoot, he could hear distant bird calls, the running water in a nearby stream, wind rustling through the forest canopy... but no running, nor the scratching of claws in tree bark.

"He's still nearby," Fiyero said quietly. "He must be watching us. Keep looking around."

The men did just that, though their trigger fingers twitched nervously as they waited for the silence to break. It was all a gamble now, a hope that the beast now stalking them wouldn't risk attacking eight wary men, and that maybe, maybe they would still be able to carry out their assignment.

"Just stay calm," Fiyero instructed, glancing at the jumpy man who had fired before. "And whatever you do, when you see him, don't–"

"THERE!"

"–shout."

With a sigh, Fiyero turned, fully expecting to have lost their quarry again, but today he seemed to be lucky; the furry brownish shape that had been slipping between trees and brush was moving towards them – lured, perhaps, by the obvious anxiety of the soldiers.

It was a Lion. A fairly young Lion, judging by his half-grown mane, and one that looked like it couldn't decide whether to walk on two legs or four like his mute and mindless cousins. Instead he jumped and waddled, looking lopsided, hissing and spitting as though it would frighten them when another growl might actually have done so.

Everything about the situation seemed wrong, and it set off loud alarm bells in Fiyero's head: This Lion wasn't acting like an animal or an Animal, which made it very hard to predict. Should he talk to it? Would it even understand, considering that it didn't seem to have had even the slightest exposure to civilisation? Did it know what guns were, or would it attack without realising the danger, forcing them to kill it? Or was it smarter than it seemed, maybe outwitting them all by sheer virtue of originality?

Rather efficiently, the Lion's first words answered all these questions in one fell, disappointing swoop. He came closer, snarling victoriously, then reared back on his hind legs, lifted two paws like fists and said, "Put 'em up! Put 'em up!"

Fiyero... blinked.

The soldiers, whose rifles were already up and pointing at their target, faltered in surprise. Several glanced at Cherrystone, who shrugged, or at Fiyero, whose attention was fixed on their bewilderingly overconfident opponent.

Apparently this silence was all that the Lion needed to convince himself that they were scared. Smirking, he came closer, swirling his furry paws in the face of the nearest sweating ensign and idly batting the rifles aside. "I'll fight you!" he declared. "I'll fight you all – every one of you! Which one of you first, hrmmm?"

This... was... absurd. He wanted a fist fight?

Cherrystone and his men were now quite lost, and Fiyero barely less so. Discreetly gesturing for the others to keep their guard up, he left his own pistol holstered and said, "We're not here to fight," thinking it the most non-aggressive approach possible. Apparently it was the opposite.

"Oh, so it's you, eh?" said the Lion, aiming his fists at Fiyero's face. "Scared, eh? I'll fight you! I'll fight you all at once – and blindfolded! You can't cross me without getting a mark to show for it. Come on and fight, you furless, buttoned-up old cod."

"Now that's getting personal, Lion," Fiyero replied dryly. He glanced at Cherrystone and shook his head, baffled, and the soldier took that as permission to take the lead himself.

"Lion," he said formally, "are you the creature responsible for terrorising innocent travellers on this road for the past several months?"

The Lion drew himself up proudly and sneered, "What of it, hrmm? What of it?"

That was a yes. It was also a yes given so freely that instead of being a reassuring confirmation, it just made Fiyero more uneasy. "Why?" he asked, genuinely puzzled. "Why would you do that?"

"I'm a lion!" came the sharp, growled, offended reply. "A real lion!"

"...And?" Fiyero asked after a brief silence. "That's not a reason."

Apparently this Lion thought it was, for he faltered, then retorted, "It's what lions do, you hair-brained sissy."

"But you're a Lion, not a lion," said Fiyero, ignoring the insult, but from this Lion's reaction, it was immediately evident he had no idea what the distinction was. Ignoring the impatience of Cherrystone, who – now that he had his confession – was simply waiting to make the arrest, Fiyero asked, "Is that the only reason you've been doing this? Because you think you're supposed to act like the wild lions in these woods?"

"I'm just like them!" hissed the Lion defensively. "What, you think I'm not? I'll show you! I'll show you! I'm just as scary as any of them! Come on, put 'em up! No one gets through my forest without a fight!"

"This forest belongs to the Wizard of Oz," Cherrystone said sternly, waving two men forward. "Lion, you are now under arrest for violent harassment, disorderly conduct and disturbing the peace. You will be taken to the Emerald City to await trial and–"

A defiant roar drowned out the rest of his words as the Lion lunged towards them, claws out and teeth bared. He had barely knocked one rifle aside when – BANG! – another fired, and then–

An unearthly yowl, as long and high and pathetic as anyone could imagine, suddenly split the air. The ensign who had fired jumped, startled, and the eight humans watched in mild shock as the huge golden Lion crumpled like old paper, clutching his paw and screeching a death knell.

Irony was, the bullet had more or less missed. After several minutes of gathering enough courage to brave the clawed and flailing limbs, Cherrystone's men managed hold the Lion down long enough for their medic to treat the wound, and found that the silly creature was in no real danger. There was a patch of blood on one arm – that was all. It looked like the shot had only scraped the edge of his skin, making an odd-looking shallow gouge in the flesh, but from the way he was carrying on, one would think he had lost the entire limb.

"Am I dying?" he whimpered, wincing dramatically, huge eyes now wet with tears. "Is this the end?"

"I told you, you're fine," said the medic, whose nervousness had been lost to exasperation several minutes ago. "Just let me finish bandaging it."

"It's no use, I'm done for," he moaned. "I'm gonna die like a sissy – like a mouse!"

"You're certainly acting like one," the man muttered. "There, done."

The Lion sat up slowly, hesitantly, and cringed at the five rifles pointing at him from all directions. He looked utterly miserable, shuddering a little from leftover sobs, and wiped his eyes with his tail.

Fiyero watched quietly. He was remembering another young Lion he'd once known, one who had huddled in the corner of a cold metal cage just as this one was shuffled close against the tree. He also remembered being sickened to learn, some months after Doctor Dillamond's return, that infant Animals left to fend for themselves were several times more likely to die than orphaned animals in the same situation – they just thought too much to blindly follow their inborn natures, and usually ended up starving. He'd never told Elphaba.

Sympathetic now, Fiyero knelt in the earth and looked at the Lion, trying to be as non-threatening as possible. The Lion jerked away anyway, watching with wide eyes as though afraid to be hurt again. "How did you get here?" Fiyero asked. "Where are your parents?"

Another sob. "Don't know," he said. "They took Mama away from me so long ago that I don't remember nothing."

"'Took away'?" repeated Fiyero. "Humans?"

The Lion nodded, shoulders still hunched protectively, making his short mane fluff out in all directions. "They put me in a cage."

Ah. So this had been one of the victims of clandestine science experiments. Fiyero winced. The Wizard had seized most such laboratories soon after starting his reformations, but not all the Animals reported missing over the surrounding years had been accounted for, and some babies, of course, had never been on official records in the first place. Having been at the trial of Doctor Dillamond's brief replacement, Nikidik, Fiyero knew just how horrible those places had been.

"We're not like them," he promised, cautiously reaching out to touch the Lion's matted fur. "No one's going to hurt you, or lock you up, as long as you don't hurt anyone else. All right?"

The Lion nodded frantically, his fur flopping up and down as he did so.

"Okay, good," said Fiyero, glancing at Cherrystone as he stood up, gesturing for the ungainly Lion to follow suit.

"You will be taken to the Emerald City," said Cherrystone, still formally, but trying to be kind about it. "There you will await judgement by the Grand Vizier, Lady Elphaba, and–"

"NOOOO!" the Lion suddenly shrieked, scrambling backwards and clinging frantically to Fiyero's knees. "No, don't let her hurt me, PLEASE!" he cried. "Please please please please..."

"What? What now?" asked the baffled Fiyero, grabbing the arm of a random ensign to keep from losing his balance. "Let go, will you?"

The big coward just held on tighter, sobbing in terror, and it took help from three soldiers to extract Fiyero from his grip. Able to walk again, the prince crouched a short distance away and repeated his question. "Why are you afraid of Elphaba?"

"Sh-she's the green witch!" wailed the Lion. "I heard 'em talking – people who come through the woods. They said she's as green as the city! She'll hurt me if she sees me!"

"She will not," said Fiyero. "Why would you think that?"

"Because she did it before! She took away all my courage when I was just a cu-u-ub!"

He dissolved into tears again, but this time Fiyero wasn't quite so sympathetic; he pulled the Lion's paws from his face and looked him square in the eye. "Tell me what happened."

Haltingly, and between pathetic little sobs, the Lion described how he'd been captured and taken away from his mother by humans, how he'd been brought to a place where there had been lots of banging and shouting and shaking, and how he so clearly remembered a pair of green hands carrying his cage before, in a blurry panic which had muddled most of his memories, he'd escaped into the forest, dashing off at full pelt and so utterly terrified by the experience that he'd run clear out of the northern woods and flatly refused to return.

Fiyero, who until then had been so proud of his and Elphaba's good deed, felt gutted.

"I've never ever been brave since," concluded the cowardly Lion. "So you see? She must've done it! She used her magic to take away all my courage so I could never be a real lion ever again..."

"That's not true," said Fiyero, and opened his mouth to add, I should know, I was there, but thought the better of it – he'd had enough experience trying to talk people into things to know that blatantly presenting himself as Elphaba's ally wouldn't help. Instead he said, "There's no spell that can take away courage."

"There has to be," sniffled the Lion. "Why else would I be so s-s-scared? I'm a lion! I'm supposed to be king of the forest!"

"Er... no, you're not." Fiyero looked around at the soldiers for help, but apparently deciding what to do with a deluded prisoner was a job reserved solely for the team commander. He sighed and tried to be reasonable. "Even if she could, why would she do that to you?"

"Because she's evil! I heard them talking – they say she wants to change everything in Oz, and will cast a spell on anyone who doesn't do as she says!"

Fiyero groaned. Perfect. Not only were they caught in a stalemate of circular logic, but it just had to be based on the one time that Elphaba had lost her temper – which, by the way, had only left the man furry for a day or two, and he'd richly deserved it. Still, it had happened, and arguing details wasn't going to help matters; not when the Lion was this scared.

So the question was, now what? It wasn't as though Fiyero could sit around the forest all day trying to talk a traumatised young Lion out of something he'd obviously been convinced of for years, but neither could he take them elsewhere – the Supreme Court of Munchkinland, for instance – and let a judge other than Elphaba deal with him; the whole point of this trip was to make a big show about public safety. Cruel as it seemed, he didn't have much choice except to drag the whimpering Lion back to the city.

Somehow.

Stupid politics.

After a long minute of thinking, Fiyero said, "If you come with us – quietly," he added, "and don't fight us, then I promise that we'll protect you. You won't to be put in a cage, or drugged, or enchanted – not by anyone."

The Lion glanced up, hopeful but hesitant. "To the green city?" he asked. Fiyero nodded. "...W-will the witch be there?"

"She's not a witch," Fiyero replied automatically, but hesitated before answering the question. He could evade it, say that she was off on business somewhere, but the Lion might catch him, and really, he'd never shared Elphaba's righteous refusal to lie outright when necessary. "No," he said simply, "she won't."

After a great deal more humming and hawing, begging for promises and sniffling over his wound, the Lion agreed.

It would be nice to say that, after all this fuss and trouble, Fiyero simply brought the Lion to the Emerald City, carefully introduced him to Elphaba, and cleared up all the confusion about him thinking she was responsible for his lack of courage. But that was never going to happen.

These things take time, and the Lion, who had lived most of his life in the quiet safety of the forest, had already been through enough for one day. He panicked several times on the journey to the city, afraid that "the witch" might come back early or somehow see them anyway. At least twice he tried to run back to the forest, but he was still under arrest, and while strong, he was terrified of rifles. Then, of course, once they reached the city an ambush of reporters and photographers were waiting, and between the shouted questions and flashing cameras, the Lion's nerve failed him completely – he shrieked, fought, and had to be hauled away by the soldiers, reinforcing the public image of him as a deranged and mindless monster.

Glinda saved that particular day, managing to take in Fiyero's entire explanation and hammer it into a brilliantly reassuring speech within about half an hour. She presented it to the press as a terrible tragedy – the poor, abandoned Animal so traumatised by abuse at the hands of humans that it could no longer tell friend from foe. This was perfect in many ways, not the least because it was entirely true, if somewhat exaggerated, but also because she was then able to use it as a platform from which to justify a rather large expansion project which the psychiatric division of the Emerald City Hospital had needed for years, as well as several of Elphaba's more aggressive law reforms.

In truth, what the Lion needed was a crash course in civilisation, not a psychiatrist. He was young and confused and very, very scared, but not crazy. What he had done to passing travellers was undoubtedly wrong, but understandable, and Elphaba managed to justify pardoning him on the grounds of ignorance, with the added condition that he be under the constant supervision of a responsible guardian until he was socially rehabilitated. Of course, she had to do all this through second-hand interviews, because no matter how much progress the Lion made getting over his fear of locked rooms and sharp objects, he flatly refused to go anywhere near Elphaba.

She took that hard.

Being her active, forthright self, Elphaba had wanted to see the Lion the moment she first heard about him. She had been hurt to the point of stricken to learn that the Cub they had rescued so blindly considered her evil, and it was only Fiyero's dogged insistence that she would do more harm than good that kept her from barging on in anyway. As weeks passed and he showed no sign of coming around, Elphaba threw herself into studying old missing persons reports and the transcript from Nikidik's trial, determined to find out exactly which of the lost orphans this was.

Eventually it was established beyond any doubt that this particular Lion had been named Arix Urhorn, and that he'd vanished along with his mother just over five years ago. His closest living relative, an uncle, had been contacted immediately, and after a long series of legal complications, Mr Urhorn had taken custody of his nephew and moved them both to an all-Animal village in the southern Vinkus, where friends and neighbours were quite willing to help take care of him.

It was the right thing to do – the best thing for everyone involved, especially Arix – but that's not to say it didn't hurt. Fiyero had been able to talk to him every few days, and could find some consolation there, but Elphaba had only seen him once, when their paths crossed by accident, and his scream had echoed in her ears for days. They'd asked Urhorn to keep in touch, to let them know if he needed any help at all, and he'd appreciated the gesture even if his nephew had not.

The letters came sporadically, and were little more than polite notes, sent more out of obligation than any real need. The only one of real significance came two months after the Lions had left, and Fiyero opened it on a sunny afternoon when he, Glinda, and Elphaba were sitting at a table outside their favourite ice cream parlour.

"Arix's rehabilitation is officially complete," he told them, scooping up another bite of chocolate-covered chocolate-chip chocolate ice cream while he glanced over the signature of the state-assigned Animal counsellor. "They're asking for his pardon to be finalised."

"I'll write it up tonight," promised Elphaba, looking up from her own stack of unopened letters with restrained hope. "Does it say anything about their plans?"

Offering a sympathetic look, Fiyero shook his head. "Urhorn says he's gotten a good job as a builder, and apparently Arix is trying to learn the trade. It doesn't sound like they want to leave. ...They don't say anything about him warming to you, Elphaba."

She'd expected that, but the disappointment still stung. Her eyes dropped to the strawberry dessert that was melting in her bowl, and she stabbed at it a few times with her spoon. Glinda squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry, Elphie," she said. "I know it means a lot to you, but... well, you're never going to be liked by everybody. Even I will never be liked by everybody," she added with a gently teasing grin. "Why don't we just finish with all this mail and enjoy our afternoon off, hmm? Think about something else."

Elphaba nodded, smiling a little. She reached out to pick up a new letter and tried to open it one-handed while spooning up some more of the pink cream.

Glinda chuckled. "You know, I don't think Duke Maberly will be flattered to see ice cream stains on his best stationary."

"Duke Maberly is never going to see this letter again," replied Elphaba with a little shrug, finally managing to shake it open and starting to skim over the contents. "Actually, I'm never going to see it again, either. He's just complaining about the complaints that he's employing humans unfairly."

"He wrote to me about that last week, too," said Glinda, frowning. "I told him we'd all discussed it before turning down his request. Why would he write to you?"

"Because you lied?" teased Fiyero, then hurried to duck away from the crumpled napkin that she tossed towards his head. He chuckled, then shrugged. "Because he's an idiot, probably. Just ignore his next few letters and see what happens. He'll probably come back begging."

"Or he'll start writing to you," warned Glinda, taking another bite of her own dessert. Then she looked more closely at Fiyero and said, "You have brown on your chin."

He tried to lick it off and, when that failed, wiped the stray chocolate away with his hand. "So what's the verdict, Elphaba? Do you like strawberry ice cream?"

"I still can't believe you've never had it before," muttered Glinda.

Curiously, there was no response. Furrowing her brow, Glinda looked up to see her green friend staring at another letter, looking surprised and hopeful and utterly delighted. "Elphie?"

Fiyero craned his neck to peer at the postmark on the discarded envelope: Colwen Grounds, Munchkinland. "Is that from Nessa?"

She shook her head, eyes still fixed on the writing and a wide smile on her mouth, the ice cream quite forgotten. "Brynna. Our housekeeper."

"The one who's been writing to you about her?" asked Glinda, and Elphaba nodded, continuing to read.

"She says... she says Nessa misses me. She's too proud to say anything, but she keeps talking about me, with Father, and others. She... On my birthday she locked herself in her room for hours; they think she was crying." Trying not to be happy to hear that her sister still cared enough to be miserable, Elphaba forced her smile down and closed the letter. "Brynna thinks that if I write to her now, she'll reply. She says Nessa's ready to be friends again."

"About time," said Fiyero bluntly, though he smiled and squeezed her hand. "How long has it been? A year?"

"Almost," said Glinda, and reached over to give her best friend a little hug. "That's wonderful, Elphie. I know how much you've missed her."

Elphaba hugged her back, ignoring or oblivious to the slightly startled looks from other patrons of the ice cream parlour. Her smile, refusing to be held back for long, was brilliant. "I'll write back now. Do you have a pen?"

A quick bag-and-pockets search by both Fiyero and Glinda turned up a great deal of spare paper, but no envelopes or pens. "It's all right, I'll just go back to my office," said Elphaba, hurriedly gathering her scattered papers into a carry-bag. "See you both later."

"Are you sure you don't want to wait a while?" asked Fiyero, who had been enjoying their afternoon out. "You know you're going to spend three hours drafting it anyway. Let us walk you back."

"No, really, I want to start now," said Elphaba, shaking her head and leaning down out of sight to re-lace the shoe she had kicked off earlier. Finishing, she reached up to the table to grab her bag, but in her hurry, completely forgot that the bowl of strawberry ice cream was still sitting innocently on the edge of the table, directly in the path of her incoming hand.

One can probably guess what happened next.

Elphaba's palm hit the rim of the bowl full-force, flipping it over, and ice cream – pink ice cream, as if any other colour wasn't embarrassing enough – was catapulted out, hitting her chest with a splattery wet smack before rolling down, leaving smears, and plopping onto her lap.

The metal spoon hit the ground a moment later, its light ping adding to the finality of the effect.

Fiyero took one look at her spattered face and burst out laughing.

Glinda followed suit a moment later, covering her mouth with both hands and slumping forward on the table, squeaky, hysterical giggles shaking her entire body. The other Ozians eating or walking nearby all stopped to stare at their dignified and now pinkified Grand Vizier, and there was the faint snap-whirr sound of someone taking photographs. Elphaba, for her part, just looked at her lap, eyes fixed on the ice cream as though it were the most loathsome of traitors

"Oh, Elphie," gasped Glinda, laughing too hard to properly breathe. "Oh, Elphie... What a mess..."

With a completely straight face her friend replied, "Well, Linny, you can have some too," and promptly dropped a handful of the cold, wet cream straight onto Glinda's head. She shrieked, trying to duck, but only managed to make it slide down the back of her neck, and she wriggled madly in an attempt to reach it before her dress was completely ruined.

Fiyero was still doubled over laughing, and only seemed sorry that he'd already finished his triple chocolate treat and couldn't join in on the fun.

The manager was horrified, of course, and hurried over with a huge pile of napkins, apologising as though it had somehow been his fault, and the three friends began mopping up the melting mess. Elphaba paused halfway through wiping her chin and turned to Glinda with a grin that was partly nostalgic, partly amused, but mostly just plain wicked.

"You know what, Glinda?" she said. "Pink goes good with green."