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.
Author's Notes: I realise it's been chapters since we've seen Fiyero's family, so here's a reminder of who's who among my original characters:
Haral Tiggular: Fiyero's father, King of the Vinkus
Amadel Tiggular: Fiyero's mother, Queen of the Vinkus
Narjin, Meru and Dian Tiggular: Fiyero's younger siblings.
At this point, Fiyero is twenty-four, Narjin is eighteen, Meru is eight, and Dian is six.
Chapter Sixteen
Sons of the Vinkus
Year 23
Winter
As a building that was huge, famous, expensive, and fairly old, the Emerald Palace had something of a reputation to live up to. Buildings that are huge, famous, expensive, and fairly old tend to be stereotyped by those who don't live in them, and one of the expectations associated with that cliché is that somewhere, deep inside, there should be at least one secret room, hidden passage, or locked door guarding a splendid secret.
Now, the Emerald Palace had no such mysteries – at least, none that its principle denizens were aware of – but it did have a number of very normal little rooms that most people never knew about, and few would ever imagine the purpose of.
One such place was informally known as the Spying Lounge. It was a cosy little parlour that sat directly above the grand double-doors of the palace's main entrance, and its large windows were draped in lace curtains that let people look out but not in, meaning that those sitting inside could know exactly when an important guest's carriage had just pulled up to the door. This was done, Glinda explained, so that the queen – or whomever, nowadays – could walk down to greet the arrivals at exactly the right moment, rather than risking the graceless tedium of being early or the rudeness of being late.
On this particular day, heavy grey clouds that threatened rain or snow were dimming the usual green sparkle of the city. Elphaba was sitting behind the curtains, legs crossed and impatiently toying with her pointed hat. Oscar was nearby, dressed up the way people expected of their Wonderful Wizard and repeatedly stumbling over his embroidered hems. Glinda sparkled, of course, as beautiful as ever, but she wasn't acting the part – she was fretting, flipping through well-worn pages of a tiny notebook and trying to memorise as much as possible. Fiyero was nowhere to be found.
After one of the papers tore in the rush, Elphaba rolled her eyes. "What are you worried about?" she asked her friend. "You've met them before."
"Not in a formal setting, Elphie," replied Glinda, eyes fixed on the page. "Etiquette in the Vinkus is nothing like in the rest of Oz and I will not mess this up, no matter how... Oh, where did I put it?" she grumbled, flicking through her tattered notes and glancing repeatedly out the window. "Elphie, do you know what Fiyero's great-grandfather's second wife was called?"
"No. I don't think Fiyero does, either, but you can ask him." She paused. "Where is he, anyway?"
"He's coming. There was some last-minute problem with a cake," said Oscar, who was finally managing to walk straight. "He said it won't take long."
"It had better not," Glinda muttered darkly. "It's his family we're welcoming, after all. All right, Oscar, do you know what the cooks said about tonight's dinner? The spiced talla meat and the sumpai–"
"It's all arranged," he promised, patting her shoulder. "Glinda, please relax. Every one of us has met King Haral before, and somehow I doubt Fiyero is going to stand on ceremony for his own family, especially not on his sister's birthday."
"He might, actually," said Elphaba, sitting back in her chair, grinning wickedly. "Glinda threatened him."
Oscar's brow furrowed in puzzled amusement. "With what?"
He never got an answer, though, for at that moment a deep blue carriage came into view far down the main road and Glinda jumped to her feet. "Fiyero!" she called, opening the hallway door. "Fiyero, where ARE you?"
A startled maid, who just happened to be right outside the door when Glinda opened it to shout, pressed a hand to her rapidly beating heart. "I – I believe Prince Fiyero is already at the gate, ma'am."
"What? Urg!"
In a flash, Glinda disappeared down the stairs. Oscar and Elphaba exchanged an amused glance, and there was a brief silence.
"Do you think we should wait here?" asked the Wizard.
Elphaba considered it, lingering in thought for a few seconds longer than necessary, but shook her head. "She's probably suffered enough."
Oscar chuckled and offered a hand to pull her out of the chair. A moment or so later they stepped into the palace's vast, glimmering green entrance hall, and then out onto the main steps, each of which were long and wide enough to fit a grand piano. Glinda was already there, buttoning up an elegant winter coat lined with fake white fur, standing straight and tall while Fiyero leaned against a wall, content.
Elphaba discreetly took his hand. "Is it ready?" she asked.
"Mm-hmm. Eight cakes, eight kinds of chocolate, eight ice creams and eight presents for my eight-year-old little sister." He shook his head. "Do you know how long it's been since I've seen her? She's going to be so big."
"She's going to be so sick," Elphaba replied dryly. "Do you really expect her to eat all that?"
"Oh, hell no. Most of it'll be left over for the rest of the week. It's the idea of it. She loves numbers. I taught her to count," he added proudly.
"Aw," murmured Glinda, smiling as she tilted her head. "You really love her, don't you?"
"Favourite sibling," he replied shamelessly, and shrugged. "I don't know why, really, but Meru... we've always gotten along really well. Better than with my brothers."
"If I recall, Dian's only six, and you've barely lived in the same house as him for more than a few months."
"Better than with Narjin, then." A very light rain was starting to fall, so Fiyero stepped back a bit until he was under the huge ornate overhang which already shielded Oscar and Glinda. Elphaba wasn't bothered by getting a bit wet, and would have stayed where she was if Glinda hadn't fiercely hissed something about hairstyles and fabrics.
By this time, the blue carriage had rolled its way through the main gates and the formal guard (whose sole purpose in life seemed to be to stand around looking pretty) had lined themselves up on either side of the path, stoically watching the misty rain hit their noses. The Vinkun guards were just as stiff, climbing down to bow before servants with umbrellas hurried to shield the Tiggulars from the three or four tiny drops that were actually falling.
Elphaba rolled her eyes. Something to block the frigid winter wind would have been more useful.
Thankfully for her sake, the first person to hop out of that carriage was Meru, and the chirpy little girl ignored formality about as often as her big brother did. "YERO!" she cried, jumping to the ground, heedless of the delicacy of her dress, and ran full-speed across the path and up the stairs to be swept up in Fiyero's usual and most enthusiastic hug.
He spun her around, nearly hitting Oscar, but had to put her down faster than usual. "Oz, you're tall!"
"Four whole feet!" she announced proudly. "Daddy measured me yesterday."
"Perfect number for today, then – exactly half," said Fiyero, still kneeling and ruffling her hair. "Happy birthday, Sis."
Meru squealed and hugged him again. "I missed you so much!"
Behind her, Haral and Narjin were stepping out of the carriage, taking their time so Meru could have her moment of glory. Little Dian and Fiyero's mother Amadel were not coming, as a last-minute letter had informed them less than two days ago. Dian was sick and Amadel wasn't comfortable having the entire royal family away from home all at once. It was a shame, but had only made Fiyero more determined to make this day as perfect as possible.
He was certainly coming close.
"You remember my friends Elphaba and Glinda, right?" he asked Meru, straightening up and holding her hand as they stepped towards the more formal welcoming party. Meru looked a bit shy, but nodded and smiled, making a very proper curtsey to all of them, and she easily shook Elphaba's hand when the green woman wished her a happy birthday. Glinda did the same, adding a traditional Vinkun blessing that she'd memorised for the occasion, and then Fiyero – still holding her hand – led his sister to the only person she hadn't met before: The Wizard.
Oscar, as was not all that surprising, loved children, and he smiled brilliantly as Meru greeted him, then leaned over to shake her hand and say, "Happy Birthday, Princess Meru. This is for you."
From a pocket of his ridiculous robe he produced a small box wrapped in emerald-green paper, and the little girl's shyness melted away as she thanked him, and set to opening the present.
At that point, Fiyero turned to greet his father, shaking his hand and exchanging a few happy but hardly formal words – something which Glinda was sure to be frowning at. The quiet and sometimes sullen Narjin was next, and as Fiyero turned from their father, his eyes landed on his brother's face.
He stopped dead, all traces of a smile dropping from his mouth.
Meru's gleeful thanks for whatever trinket she'd been given suddenly seemed very faint in the background. Elphaba, who stood directly to Fiyero's left, furrowed her brow in confusion as he stared coldly and Narjin looked down, shuffling his feet awkwardly. Then Fiyero swung sharply toward his father, looking – for lack of a better word – betrayed.
Haral just gave a very slight shake of the head and said, "Later."
Narjin seemed to take that as his cue, for he lifted his head and offered a hand, saying, "Hello, brother. It's good to see you."
Fiyero looked back, but didn't answer. His face remained dark, his back stiff, and his arms hung straight by his sides, hands curling into loose fists. From her angle, Elphaba could see the muscles in his jaw working as he grit his teeth. Eventually he just said, "Narjin," in a flat voice with a slight nod, then spun on his heel and walked off, hooking an arm around Meru's shoulders and taking her inside, leaving the others behind without so much as a word.
Elphaba was bewildered, and judging by the looks on Glinda and Oscar's faces, they were no less so. Narjin seemed embarrassed; Haral just looked sad. An awkward silence reigned for a moment, broken only by the shuffle of soldiers' feet and Meru's fading voice as they walked away – she, too, was wondering what was wrong, but Fiyero was putting on a cheerful voice and asking if she'd like to open another present early, and that was distraction enough.
Then, in a valiant attempt to salvage the formalities (and probably to console Glinda, who was visibly mortified) Narjin stepped up towards the rest of his hosts, and in so doing, he naturally turned to face them directly. The wind pushed his longish hair back from his brow, and suddenly Elphaba saw that the left side of his face had been tattooed with the same intricate pattern of tiny blue diamonds that, until now, she had only ever seen on King Haral.
"Lady Elphaba," Narjin said politely, bowing a little and offering her his hand. She took it, shook it, and returned the greeting, and as Narjin moved on to Glinda and then the Wizard, she turned to look at Haral.
He offered no explanation, merely went through the motions of pleasant greetings with each of them. Oscar returned them with some discomfort, and then Glinda, trying to keep some of her precious etiquette alive, put on a bright smile and said, "Why don't we all go inside? I'm sure you'd like to settle in and unpack for a while, and I'm afraid the rain seems to be getting worse..."
Her offer of escape was taken up quickly, and soon all the greetings were over, the servants dismissed, and absolutely no answers given.
Several hours later, neither Meru nor Fiyero had turned up. Optimistically, because it had been planned to the letter as part of their celebration, Glinda decided not to delay the dinner scheduled for sundown – though, considering all the trouble she'd put the cooks through trying to get it right, that might have been more to prevent a riot. As dusk fell, the hosts and guests, with two glaring exceptions, gathered to wait in a comfortable antechamber outside one of the smaller (but typically extravagant) formal dining rooms.
Haral and Narjin were not talking – not, at least, about what had upset Fiyero, which was clearly no mystery to them. Glinda was tense, trying her best to keep up the pretence that absolutely nothing was wrong even though everyone knew better. She was striking up pleasant conversations with Oscar and Haral – Narjin, like Elphaba, didn't bother with the pretence and loitered silently in one corner – but nothing seemed to work. A topic would be offered and the speakers would latch on, making their best effort, but the unspoken issue kept getting in the way, and after a few weak exchanges, they all faded into nothingness.
Awkward silence reigned. Glinda kept hurrying to the door to speak with her assistants, who had been sent to search the palace, and each time they shook their heads, her smile became a little bit stiffer. When a butler arrived to inform them that dinner was served, she almost cried.
However, it was less than a minute later that Meru and Fiyero waltzed in with no apologies, no formality, and no care, entirely absorbed in some chirpy conversation. Perhaps it was a coincidence, but Elphaba suspected that he was deliberately avoiding having to talk to anyone but his sister.
And avoid them he most certainly did.
Meru helped, unknowingly. Although she was now old enough to know that something was wrong, she had been very effectively distracted: As soon as the door opened, she ran in and pounced on her father, excitedly waving two front-row tickets to her favourite musical – the first of Fiyero's ridiculous number of presents.
"And guess what!" she cried, practically bouncing. "Yero says he knows the guy who plays Prince Lakal and after the show he's promised to take us BACKSTAGE!"
Haral smiled at his daughter, glancing at Fiyero, who seemed calm and at ease, his attention entirely fixed on Meru. "That's wonderful," said the king. "I'm sure you'll have a great time. When's the performance?"
"Lurlinemas EVE!" she replied, squealing in a very un-princess-like fashion. "I can't wait I can't wait I can't wait!"
The adults all smiled indulgently at her, and Glinda, relieved, suggested that they step into the dining room. "We have another surprise for you," she told Meru, and Fiyero, grinning, stood behind his sister, covering her eyes with his hands and nudging her into a walk.
After careful consideration, Glinda had decided to host Meru's birthday dinner in the silver room, which was fairly small (by palace standards) and in which every surface and ornament was either white, black, or a shiny, reflective silver. It looked impressively expensive without being obscenely so, though it had the unfortunate side effect of emphasising every bit of colour in the clothes, hair, or skin of the diners.
Them, and the eight big cakes iced like rainbows, of course.
Meru gasped, hands flying up to cover her mouth, and she turned to look at Fiyero with a look of total delight. "Eight cakes?" she asked.
He grinned. "Eight."
"For after dinner," warned Haral, who had known nothing of this surprise, though he seemed to approve. "Have some real food first; we don't want you to get sick." He nodded at Fiyero, who was extremely pleased with himself, but Narjin, on the other hand, was looking... sad?
This family, Elphaba decided, was impossible to figure out.
Like Glinda, Oscar was pretending that everything was fine. He invited the birthday girl to sit beside him – a privilege which half of Oz would have cheerfully killed for, and which Meru, who was still a well-educated Vinkun Princess, understood the honour of. She accepted with a very proper curtsey, then dashed forward to climb into her chair.
There was, however, a problem: Glinda had arranged the seating plan so that Meru was between the Wizard and her father, directly across from Fiyero, who was in turn next to Narjin, all in respectful hierarchal order – but Fiyero refused to sit next to Narjin.
Silently, but with absolutely no room for argument, Fiyero took his father's seat beside Meru, shifting the chair just enough so that his brother's face was entirely blocked by one large cake. Glinda's head jerked as she glanced between her friend and his assigned seat, lips pressed tight to keep from protesting his behaviour.
Tactfully, Haral just took the empty chair.
The rest of the meal passed in the same strained, forced-smile sort of way. There was a silent agreement that, for Meru's sake, no one would bring up the issue of what was actually wrong, but avoiding it became a painful endeavour. Fiyero was completely focused on his sister, making every effort to amuse and entertain her while flatly ignoring his brother, and only gave brief, barely polite responses to everyone else who spoke to him. After some time it became clear – to Elphaba, at least – that he was trying as hard as Glinda to keep up appearances because he didn't want Meru's day to be spoiled. At the same time, he was tense, jaw set tight, and no laughter ever reached his eyes. His cold rudeness was either patiently excused or ignored.
Meru, thankfully, noticed nothing, and since talking to or about her was the only really safe subject, she was the centre of attention, and the happiest, most spoiled birthday girl in Oz.
On the other hand, Narjin was quiet and still, speaking only when spoken to, though he, too, would smile for his sister and say that yes, of course everything was okay. He gave her a present – one present, his only present – which was well thought-out and special: a necklace of tiny shells gathered from lake creatures, very rare and expensive, exactly the colour of her eyes, and obviously something he'd put a great deal of time and thought into. She liked it and thanked him, putting it on and hugging him for it, but wasn't half as enthusiastic as when Fiyero showered her with his extravagant gifts, one after the other. From her seat beside Narjin, Elphaba couldn't help but feel sorry for him.
All through this, there was absolutely nothing to hint at what was really going on. Glinda might have worked it out, being more intuitive when it came to the moods and feelings of her friends, but she was terribly upset by all this, desperately trying to ignore or excuse Fiyero's rudeness, Narjin's silence, and the general tension in the room. She was in no state to fix other people's problems, and Elphaba spent most of the meal talking quietly over the table, consoling her and promising that everything would be fine. "This was always meant to be a visit with friends, not a state affair. It's not as though the Vinkus is going to be offended."
Glinda put on a tight smile and said no, of course not, but she wished everyone could just be happy.
Elphaba wished so, too.
An hour later, after they'd all had their fill of 'real' food and Haral gave his daughter permission to eat her treats, Oscar produced eight tall, thin candles that must have been specially made, and baffled the native Ozians by sticking them into the top of a cake. It took a little while for him to explain the strange traditions of his homeland without losing his wizardly appearance in the eyes of the Tiggulars, but after he'd finished – and sung all the way through a repetitive and truly ridiculous little song – Meru took a huge breath and blew as hard as she could on the burning candles. Fiyero had to help a bit, but they all went out. Oscar applauded and Narjin smiled at his sister, and a servant took away the hot candles before wax could drip onto the cake. "What did you wish for?" asked Oscar.
Her eyes lit up. "You'll grant me a wish?"
Oscar froze. "Oh, well..."
"I'm not sure there's anything left to wish for," said Haral, kindly, but with an undercurrent of warning to his daughter not to be greedy, which she completely missed. "I think your brothers have already given you the best birthday in Oz."
That wasn't true, really, as the single gift from Narjin could hardly compare with how Fiyero had spoiled her rotten, but no one said anything.
Meru seemed to have taken the question literally. "I wish I could fly," she announced dreamily, fidgeting a little in her seat as thin slices were cut from each of the different cakes. "I had a dream I could fly. You know what happened in it?" she asked them all, looking around and expecting them to be interested.
"You flew?" Elphaba asked dryly.
"All around Oz!" she exclaimed, nodding brightly. "I was in our carriage and we were going to see Yero and then there was no roof and Daddy and 'Arjin were gone and I could see the whole sky and it was windy and then I looked out the window but there was no window and I was flying!" She stopped for breath – and to thank the servant who put the cake slices in front of her – before taking a big bite of the chocolate slice and barely remembering her manners long enough to swallow before continuing. "Know what happened next?"
The adults all shook their heads and murmured polite "no"s, but it was Fiyero whom Meru was looking at, so he asked, "What happened?"
"I was in the clouds! I was sitting on a flying cloud and I could see the Emerald City and Munchkinland and Neverdale and Mama was waving from the top of the castle and then cloud turned into a carpet and a boat and–" She stopped abruptly, halfway through bringing a bite of the second cake (this one plain, with blue and white icing) to her mouth. She looked at the Wizard and asked, "Can you make me fly?"
The Wizard squirmed, though it was barely noticeable. He looked down the table, to where his own daughter was starting on the lemon cake. "Erm... Elphaba? Can you?"
If Haral or Narjin found this odd, they said nothing; perhaps they thought it was a test, or her duty or something like that. Elphaba blinked and looked to Meru, who was watching her with big, hopeful eyes.
"Er... no, I can't. It's too dangerous to cast that sort of spell on a person," she explained. "Sorry."
"But Yero said you made some Monkeys fly."
She winced. Fiyero glanced up, looking at her long enough to convey apologies, but turned his head away before Narjin could catch his eye. Elphaba calmly put her fork down.
"I did, yes, but it was an accident. The spell didn't work properly and now I can't fix it."
"But they have wings!" protested Meru, confused. "They can fly."
"Yes, but you don't want to have wings like that, trust me," said Elphaba, jaw tight and trying very, very hard to block out the memory of screams. "You didn't have them in your dream anyway, did you?" she added lightly, trying to change the subject.
Meru shook her head, swallowing a little piece of the third cake (strawberry). "I was on a boat. The boat was flying. And the carriage. ...Can you make our carriage fly us home?"
Elphaba opened her mouth to repeat that no, she couldn't, but paused, a thought striking her, and exchanged a glance with Glinda. "Maybe?" she said.
Glinda looked thoughtful, finally distracted from the awkwardness of dinner. "With no enchanter to control it, Elphie? They wouldn't be able to steer. Unless..."
"We give command to the object?" said Elphaba, brow furrowed critically. "A self-contained spell? It'd be dangerous."
"Not if we weave the activating spell into a second object. We'd have to change the verbs to indefinites–"
"We'd need at least three of them–"
"–or there could be a trigger-word, or a mix of both–"
"–your pointing spell could be adjusted–"
"–maybe a magically-receptive object–?"
"–could test it easily enough..."
As was their habit, the two sorceresses had all but forgotten the rest of the world as ideas struck and were ricocheted back and forth between them. It was amusing in that both were entirely unaware of it, but Meru was confused and looked to her big brother for help. He, like Oscar, knew his girls very well and just said, "They'll try."
Trying seemed to be the theme of the night.
According to Glinda's carefully laid out plan for the evening, after dinner their party of seven was supposed to retire to a formal sitting room to sip tea and talk. In some ways, this was easier than the meal had been, since they weren't obliged to stay in a single group, but in other ways, it was worse.
After spending the rest of dinner scribbling notes and speaking what seemed like gibberish, Elphaba and Glinda had said that there might very well be a way to enchant large objects to fly at the command of a non-magical driver, but it would take a lot of work. In the meantime, however, they were perfectly able to make Meru's actual dream come true, and had her sit on a small rug which they levitated around the room, carefully directing it up and down with their hands. She shrieked with joy.
Once it was over, and after she'd given both women a happy hug, Meru sat down with Elphaba and begged her to explain exactly how the magic worked, even though she hadn't been able to follow a word at dinner. Elphaba tried anyway, more so that she could sit with Fiyero, who stayed with his sister and always kept smiling – until his eyes landed on his brother. Elphaba was trying to work out what was going on, why he was so upset – she was sure those tattoos had something to do with it – and what she could possibly do to keep the evening from falling apart altogether. She failed.
Narjin was staying close to his father and Oscar. Somehow, that only seemed to upset Fiyero more.
Glinda oscillated, first spending time with Haral and Oscar and then trying to talk to her friends, but when she made a light comment about how nice it must be to have a little sister and if she had younger siblings–
"Don't, Glinda," snapped Fiyero, in a harsh whisper that Meru, briefly talking to her father, couldn't hear. "Stay out of this."
That hurt her, and after a stunned moment of silence, Glinda stood up to use the washroom, taking a few deep and shaky breaths as she went.
Elphaba hit him. "What is wrong with you?" she hissed.
"You wouldn't understand," he replied, and immediately turned back to Meru, grinning brightly as she returned with some miscellaneous bit of news.
Haral was looking up, and saw this, but never said a word.
Eventually, and to the mutual relief of every adult, Meru began to fall asleep. Her day had been wonderful but exhausting, and after she shook herself out of a doze for the third time, it was tactfully suggested that she go to bed.
Meru protested, but a series of huge yawns betrayed her. Then, after standing up to thank every person in the room and hug most of them (the Wizard still seemed to awe her a little and Elphaba clearly wasn't a hugging type), she took the hand of her patient and smiling nanny, and waved as she walked out of the room.
The moment that door shut, the tension shattered.
"Fiyero–" Narjin began, but too late; Fiyero was already on his feet and storming out of another door, slamming it behind him.
Elphaba had followed him immediately, but the palace corridors were a twisting maze and he'd vanished around a corner before she could reach him. A while later she finally tracked him down, finding that, instead of distracting himself in the games rooms or vanishing out into the bars in town, he had actually gone and shut himself in his rooms – something that was unusual in itself. He rarely spent time in that suite if he wasn't sleeping or eating (or sleeping with her, to be perfectly honest), and that he had done so now was strange.
Unless, of course, part of him wanted to be found.
There was no answer to her knock, but Elphaba wasn't surprised. She let herself in, closing the door behind her before walking up to the fireplace, where Fiyero sat silently in an armchair, facing the dancing flames. His face was hard and he rested his chin in one hand, thinking. He didn't acknowledge her, but when she took the nearest seat and asked, "Do you plan to sulk the whole time they're here?", he sighed.
"I'm not sulking, Elphaba," he said, eyes on the fire. "I know it looks it, but I have a reason. I have a right to be angry."
"You made Glinda cry, you know. She worked really hard to learn Vinkun etiquette and it barely lasted two minutes."
"She'll get over it."
Elphaba blinked, startled. "It's not like you to say something like that."
That, apparently, got to him. He dropped his arm and shook his head, sighing again. "You're right, I'm sorry. I'll apologise to her later."
"And your brother?"
"He doesn't deserve it."
Wondering if she had ever been this stubborn – and knowing that she probably had – Elphaba shook her head. After a moment's thought, she dragged her chair over until she was blocking his view of the fire and asked one question: "Why?"
Fiyero frowned, hesitated, but finally answered.
"There's... a tradition. A very old Arjiki tradition of using special tattoos to announce who we are and why we're important. You've probably read about it. A few centuries ago everyone wore them, but chief families like mine had the most elaborate patterns. Most people got lazy and stopped doing it, but it's still habit for our leaders to wear at least something small to show they're Arjiki, and proud of it."
Elphaba was puzzled. "I've only ever seen your father wear it."
"He's the only one who does, since my grandfather died. My great-great-grandfather had the idea of taking tattoos at the same time as taking the crown, so ever since, wearing the diamonds has been more or less a symbol of being king."
Suddenly understanding, Elphaba winced. "And by being tattooed now, before your father steps down..."
"Narjin's basically saying that he expects to get the crown," finished Fiyero. "He thinks I'm not good enough."
"Well... that's going a bit far," said Elphaba, trying to sound reasonable. "He's your brother. Maybe he thinks the tradition should change to include your entire family – you're all royal, after all."
"No, Narjin's in love with tradition. He thinks any changes are disrespectful, and wouldn't do it unless it was a question of life or death. He always thinks he's right, anyway."
"Does he? Fiyero, you've only seen him twice in the last three years. Maybe he's grown up."
"Sure he has. Enough to think he's ready to be king."
Elphaba huffed, frustrated. "You're being ridiculous."
"Don't you mean 'really stupid'?"
"Stop it," she snapped, perhaps more harshly than she would have if she weren't still feeling guilty for that years-old slight. "I think you'd be a good king. I've seen you working hard to help Oz, and I know you could do it. What Narjin thinks doesn't matter; it's up to your father to choose which of you will be best for the country."
"And Narjin's spent all this time working at home and showing off what he can do. Father let him have the tattoos. He wouldn't do that unless he'd already decided."
"You can't know that," insisted Elphaba, though she was skating thin ice, for she couldn't come up with one reasonable explanation that might console him. Biting back her temper, she leaned forward, reaching for his hand. "Why don't you talk to them?" she suggested. "Your father, at least. Ask him what's happened."
"No."
"Fiyero–"
"No."
She sighed irritably as he slumped back in the chair, refusing to look at her and allowing his eyes to drift over to some boring bit of architecture, cheek resting on his fist again, definitely sulking.
"Fine," she said, standing and shoving her chair back as she went. "Fine. Then I will."
He didn't answer, which only annoyed her more, and she left, shutting the door more loudly than necessary.
Fiyero didn't care. He loved Elphaba, but she didn't understand. She couldn't. She hadn't spent her life thinking her family loved her only to be so harshly and abruptly let down. No wonder his mother hadn't come along for the trip; she'd never believed her elder son could make a good king – not since he was a child, at least. She wasn't heartless, but being royalty had never stopped the Tiggulars from shouting and fighting just like every other family, and Amadel had long since become fed up with the bickering of her children. She wouldn't have seen the point of coming along. Haral, however...
Fiyero had always thought of himself as being close to his family, despite his scandalous behaviour, and closest of all to his father. They had been harmonic, always spending a lot of time together, and as a child, it was his father he'd always gone to with his troubles, not his mother. Haral was the calm one, the gentle one, the one who would give him a hug to make it all better and quietly explain why Mother was angry or the baby was in tears. Fiyero might have been prepared for such a cruel gesture from his brother, but never, ever, from Haral.
For the twenty or so minutes that Elphaba was gone – probably asking around for a logical explanation, he thought sourly – Fiyero wallowed in this hurt. He wasn't like her; he couldn't analyse his feelings or pack them away, one by one, into neatly organised boxes. He felt them, and felt them in full, so by the time the door to his suite opened again, he was quite thoroughly swallowed up in resentment.
"You should have just sent a letter," he said loudly, not looking up. "Or did you think it was that obvious that only Narjin would be good enough for the Vinkus?"
"Father didn't know," said an unexpected voice, and Fiyero whipped around to see his brother looking contrite and sheepish, standing uncomfortably some distance away. He opened his mouth, wanting to say more, but had no chance.
"Get out."
"Look, can we–?"
"I don't want to talk."
"I'm sorry!" declared Narjin, and it was enough to forestall being thrown out by force. "I was at a party, I was drinking, and I thought it was a good idea. I wish I hadn't."
"Well, you did, and I don't think even Elphaba's spells could get rid of them even if you'd want her to."
Narjin scowled. "I never said I didn't, Fiyero. You're putting words in my mouth – again," he added, with some resentment of his own. "I thought you'd understand what it's like to do something stupid and regret it in the morning."
Fiyero flinched. "I never did anything like that. I don't care if you were drunk. It doesn't change things."
"Father hasn't said anything to me about being king."
"We both know he's been grooming you since the day I was expelled from Quox," replied Fiyero, looking at the fireplace again. "Why don't you just head the next council meeting and be done with it? Or have they already asked you to?"
Narjin frowned. "You know what? This isn't all about you. I could be a good king, Fiyero, I've worked really hard for it. But you're the elder brother and I respect that. I didn't get these–" he waved a hand at the left his face "–just to hurt you."
"But you think the only reason I could be king is because I'm older. Thanks a lot."
Being neither exceptionally diplomatic nor particularly patient, this was more than Narjin could take. "I came here to apologise," he snapped. "I guess I shouldn't have bothered."
He left abruptly, making for the third slammed door of the evening. Fiyero sighed. He didn't regret anything he'd said, but part of him wished it wouldn't drive everyone away so fast.
The fire crackled. Fiyero's mood didn't change.
Not long after, Elphaba's voice could be heard through the thick wood of the door – worried, frustrated... mostly worried. The door opened and Haral came in, quiet and sombre. He didn't patronise his son with any of the empty consolations he'd have offered a child. Instead he just said, "Your mother and I never approved of Narjin taking the diamonds like that. He was wrong to do so."
Though now he already knew this, Fiyero softened a little at the confirmation. His father took a seat in the armchair Elphaba had left, smooth, efficient and calm.
"Do you want him to be king?" asked Fiyero, without venom, but his eyes were still fixed on the flames. Haral sighed.
"Son, I don't know," he said. "I wish I didn't have to choose at all, but Narjin will finish his degree soon and I'm getting old." He sank back into the cushioned chair, weary bones appreciating its comfort. "Your brother... is capable. This one lapse in judgement aside, he's also been very respectful; he knows you have first right to the crown and has never acted as anything other than second in line."
"But he wants the job."
Haral nodded slowly. "He wants it. I don't think he knows what else he'll do with his life, but he could find something. The question, Fiyero, is whether or not you want it."
At last Haral's son looked at him, firelight flickering across his face. He seemed vulnerable. His voice was flat. "Would you let me?"
Very serious, the older man leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Yes," he said. "Yes, Fiyero, I'd be proud to make you our king. I... have had my doubts–" and that was the understatement of the year "–but the things you've done since coming to the City... I couldn't be more impressed. Your mother has taken to reading newspapers in bed every morning just to see what else you've done. You haven't been home much," he noted, "and that's a problem, but as long as you spend a few years in the Vinkus before I step down, it shouldn't make a difference. But, Fiyero..."
He hesitated, and Fiyero, who had been feeling a wonderful glow of joy ballooning inside his chest, froze. "What?"
"We need to decide soon. I have a few good years left, but I'm getting tired, and I don't want to be working until I die. Your brother will finish school within the year, and it wouldn't be fair to let him keep hoping. Now, I could make a public statement as early as tomorrow morning, but I need to know: Do you want to be king?"
For a long time, Fiyero was quiet.
Haral waited patiently, watching as his son considered the future. Fiyero's eyes roamed the room, touching on a few gathered trinkets, some pictures, and a woman's black coat, hanging over the couch and evidently forgotten some time ago. He looked out the window, at the snow, then back to the fire, and up to his father's face. The thin, whirling pattern of blue tattoos stared back at him.
"... No," he said at last. "No, Dad, I don't."
Haral paused, searching for any trace of doubt in Fiyero's usually open, very readable face. There was none.
"Why?"
He shrugged, leaning back in the chair. "I never wanted it, really – I just don't want to be the idiot brother who couldn't do the job."
That was reasonable, if hard for a father to listen to. "We don't doubt you, Fiyero."
"You did," he replied. "You and Mother and Narjin and half the Vinkus and most of Oz. I want to prove them wrong, but that's the only real reason, and it's not good enough." Shrugging, he added, "I like it here, Dad. I like what I do. I miss home, but I want to stay, and if that means that everyone but you and Meru and Elphaba think I'm not good enough... I don't really care."
Oh, but he did care, and Haral knew his son better than to believe that. He could have protested, argued that Amadel and Narjin also knew he was capable, as did Lady Glinda and the Wizard himself, apparently, but he also knew that words – even ones as true as those – wouldn't mean much to his son. He needed something more, something tangible... some kind of gesture.
And he had one.
"You know," he said lightly, "my great-grandfather had a good idea when he decided to associate the Arjiki diamonds with the crown. It sent a very clear message, to everyone, about who he was and why he was worthy of respect."
Fiyero glanced up, puzzled. Quietly, but with an intense look in his eyes, Haral added, "I have the blue ink with me. If you like, I think you should wear them too, king or no. You're my son, Fiyero, and I want everyone to know that I'm proud of you."
"...Dad," breathed Fiyero, taken aback and deeply touched, "... thanks."
Come morning, Elphaba was getting a little worried. Neither Haral nor Fiyero had been seen since she led the Vinkun king to his son's room, grumbling all the time about stupid traditions and stupid, stupid symbolism. Haral had said nothing, just let her rant, but when they reached the door and she turned the handle, he'd paused and said, "Thank you for caring about him."
Then he vanished.
After sharing breakfast with Glinda and evading Meru, who had woken up with a stomach-ache that dulled her usual enthusiasm, Elphaba had pretended to work for an hour before giving it up as hopeless. Five minutes later, she was outside Fiyero's door again.
She knocked and called his name. A faint, low sound was the only reply.
Inside it was dark and stuffy. The fireplace must have snuffed out on its own sometime during the night and the curtains were all still shut, light twinkling through their weak spots and around the edges. Elphaba walked towards them, and in the dim light she noticed the painfully thin steel needles that lay on a plate on the low parlour table, next to a bowl of stale water.
When she pulled open the curtains there was a sudden moan. Turning around, she found Fiyero lying on the couch, curled on his side with an arm raised to shield his eyes. He was still dressed in the same clothes as he'd worn at dinner and one palm was pressed to his face, holding down a cloth stained with brown and blue. He looked pathetic. Elphaba opened the window anyway, letting in the fresh air, and then sat down beside him, blocking the most direct light with her body.
"'m sorry," he said, blindly reaching for her hand. "Sorry I was grumpy."
She accepted, squeezing his fingers, but said, "It's not me you need to say sorry to."
"Mrph. I know. 'll find Glinda and 'Arjin later." He opened his eyes – then winced and burrowed back into the pillow. "I'm not going to be king."
Elphaba hesitated, still holding his hand. "You don't sound too upset about that."
"M'not," he said. "It's funny."
He squinted up at her and, possibly deciding that he just wasn't up for explaining it, forced himself to sit. He took his hand – and what looked like the remnants of a cloth-covered ice pack – away from the left side of his face.
He had the tattoos. They were beautiful.
Thin lines of blue diamonds, interlocking in chains, traced the rim of his eyebrow and swirled down his temple, joining up in a larger diamond shape before running down his cheek. Four more lines wrapped lightly around the curve of his forehead, the highest just brushing his hairline. There were so many, all so small, linking into each other... it must have taken hours.
His face was swollen and obviously sore. Reddened skin shone with a layer of grease, partly wiped off by the cloth – it was some kind of ointment with a faintly herbal smell, obviously part of the healing process. She reached out, then stopped, pulling her hand back. Fiyero smiled, though clearly it hurt a bit. "Go ahead, touch," he said. "I don't mind."
Careful, as gently as she knew how, Elphaba traced her fingertips over the new pattern, feeling the remaining grease slide as she moved. She touched the end of each the diamond chain on his forehead, following the delicate lines down to the edge of his eye, then sliding lower, towards his mouth. "Your father did this?"
"He wants them to know he's proud of me. He loves me."
She smiled. "I know."
Shifting a little, Fiyero added, "I should've known. I was being an idiot, wasn't I?"
"Yes. Well, mostly. You were hurt. You did have a right to be angry. I'm glad, though."
He turned, puzzled. "Glad?"
With a little laugh, Elphaba leaned forward and kissed him, briefly tasting the ointment. "Glad," she said. "I like your diamonds."
Author's Note: Using the few fuzzy pictures available from the show's makeup tests and documentary, I sketched out what I think Fiyero's tattoos were supposed to look like in the musical and played around a bit. You can find the links on my bio.