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 Nineteen
A Tale of Two Fathers

Year 25
Spring

Throughout Oz, Munchkinland was famous for three things: Its abundant, high-quality grain, the comical stature of most of its inhabitants, and its sky. An odd addition to the list, to be sure, but an understandable one. Vast and a lovely shade of blue, their sky was unique in that it was often completely and utterly cloudless. Something about the infinite, unbroken dome of colour seemed to entrance outsiders, and though of course the claim wasn't strictly true – without plenty of clouds and rain the crops would never grow – there were enough days of perfect blue serenity to cement its reputation as the most beautiful sky in Oz.

It was also the reason that one could rarely fly through it unnoticed.

On this particular day in early spring, a Munchkin boy out feeding his chickens was the first to notice the balloon. As it was, at the time, little more than a green smudge on the backdrop of blue, he didn't pay much attention, but after he'd emptied his crumb-bag and filled up the water trough, he looked up to find it had drifted closer, and his eyes widened in delight.

Running back to the farmhouse and carelessly leaving two gates wide open, he shouted, "Mama! Mama! Come see! It's one of those fancy flying things the Wizard made!"

His mother came, as did his father and sisters, and for about half an hour they watched, chatting excitedly about the Great Oz's brilliant invention, speculating about which rich honeymooners had the privilege of a flying tour this time, and waving enthusiastically, even though the basket was too high up for them to have a hope of being seen.

Inside, Fiyero Tiggular was quietly drifting off to sleep. He was lounging contentedly on a small stack of luggage, ankles propped up on the basket's edge and had a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose. Though his arms were folded pillow-like behind his head, he sprawled, somehow comfortable despite the rough wicker and cramped space. His fiancée, on the other hand, had resolved to spend most of the trip on her feet, and had a very good, nothing-to-do-with-comfort reason for doing so.

The view.

It was spectacular.

They were just clearing the southernmost tip of the Madeleines Mountains, and in the clear morning light, Munchkinland shone. Brilliant green fields and pastures spread out below them, oddly mismatched rectangles that ran crazily in whatever direction they pleased. Far off to the right was the gold ribbon of the Yellow Brick Road, and beyond that, the twinkle of water that was Munchkin River. Hanging idly in Elphaba's green hand was a map, its careful ink lines and rough depictions long since dismissed in favour of the real thing. There weren't even any ugly artificial distractions to spoil her pleasure; she could make out farmhouses and villages, yes, but they were just coloured squares, too small to compete with nature. It was times like these that one could truly appreciate the scale of the world, and how small the people in it actually were.

No pun intended, of course.

She sighed in pure, wistful appreciation, a show of happy serenity that she would normally never express. But they were alone here, and it was so rare to have privacy without four walls and a locked door that Elphaba smiled again, and laughed, just because she could.

"You really should see this, Fiyero," she said, not breaking her gaze. "It's beautiful."

He let out a muffled groan and shifted on his makeshift bed of suitcases. "We w're up b'fore dawn."

"But you couldn't see anything then!" she protested, turning to poke him. "Come on, you shouldn't miss this."

"We have another six hours to go," he replied with all the solemn dignity of a man in great need of sleep. "I'll see it later."

Shaking her head, Elphaba consulted the map and compared her hand-drawn red arrows to the ground below them. "I think we'll have to turn soon," she said aloud, a few minutes later. "We angled too far south to avoid the hills. At this rate we'll end up in Wend Hardings or Illswater."

With a sigh, Fiyero abandoned his quest for sleep and sat up, taking off the glasses that were no longer as necessary as when they'd started out, as they'd had to fly directly into the rising sun. He looked at the map and compared it to the landscape before them – which was, he would admit, lovely, even if sleep was better – using his sharp eyes to double-check what Elphaba's glasses weren't always accurate enough to determine. He nodded. "Only a slight turn, I think. Can you make that small a change to the wind?"

"I'll just cancel the first spell and start a new one," she replied, shaking her head and consulting her notebook. "It's easier than muddling with little details and– Oh, hello."

Glancing over the edge of the basket, Elphaba had suddenly found herself face-to-wing with a flock of Birds. She wasn't exactly sure what species they were, but given their size and that two of them were wearing waistcoats, she was fairly confidant of it. Fiyero joined her, grinning as he saw the younger ones whirl in circles around their parents as they all glided on the breeze. "Hello, friends," he said. "Enjoying the wind?"

The Bird at the spearhead of their v-formation nodded politely. "We beg your pardon for the presumption, Prince Fiyero, Lady Vizier, but my flock has been travelling east for quite a while and your current was, ah... very convenient," he explained, somewhat sheepishly.

"That's quite all right, I'm glad to help," said Elphaba. "But you should know we're about to change direction. Where are you headed?"

"The village of Bright Lettins, ma'am. Our cousins there have a nest of new fledglings."

Fiyero congratulated them and chatted easily for a minute or so while Elphaba turned to look at her map, then the sky, then nodded to herself a few times. "If we rise about another fifty feet I could conjure a new wind without affecting this one," she said, "but you should know that it will fade in about an hour anyway. I can't get you all the way there."

The Bird looked honoured. "Anything's good, ma'am. Thank you!"

Fiyero looked up into the balloon's envelope, frowning, and said, "We should probably be rising about now anyway – it's been cooling for about a half-hour or so."

Elphaba nodded and warned the Birds, "Do keep back."

The flock flapped ahead and out of the way of the balloon, but they glanced back several times to watch as the Grand Vizier conjured a large fireball and held it up to the mouth of the envelope. After a minute or so, the green contraption began to rise, lifting silently and gracefully until it was out of the magically-induced current, and a different wind immediately began to push them in another direction.

Green palm held out flat, Elphaba stopped it, halting them more or less in place. While she began the complex chant that would change the weather again, Fiyero squinted and re-oriented the map until he was absolutely sure it matched their actual position. When they were both ready he pointed to one particular spot on the horizon, and Elphaba flung her arms to point all ten fingers in precisely the same direction.

In a gust, the new wind materialised, and for a fraction of a second they felt it tease their hair and skin before it swept the balloon up, pushing it forward and leaving them with the amazing sense of stillness that came of moving at exactly the same speed as the air around them. It was incredibly peaceful.

"I could get used to travelling like this," said Elphaba, leaning on the rail and breathing deeply as they flew over her homeland. "We're completely defying the laws of nature."

"It's better than three days by carriage," Fiyero conceded, yawning a bit, "but I don't know if I could get used to the dawn launch."

She shook her head at him, then noticed the large shoebox which had tumbled down during their turn. "I'm the one doing all the work here, you know," she teased, leaning down to carefully pick it up. "Would you rather wait for a natural wind, or spend all your time cranking those propellers they use for the tour? Why don't you to use the burner and risk setting everything on fire?"

"I love and worship your magical power," he promised, hugging her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her neck. "I just wish you could've stopped the thermals so we didn't have to take off so early, too."

"Even if I had, we'd never make it before dark," she replied, tapping his nose. "I'm still not sure we're going to get there on time."

"Then you'll just have to conjure a faster wind," he said lightly. "Until then, view or no view, will you please let me go back to sleep?"

He looked so pathetic that she laughed and kissed him. "Fine, go. But when I want something soft to lean on later, you're not going to start complaining."

"I look forward to my duties as a pillow," he replied solemnly, and flopped down on the floor.

Hours passed. They drifted up and down, travelling east far faster than seemed possible, and if not for the gradual shift from hills to cornfields and the passing of towns, they could easily have been tricked into thinking they were floating peacefully just out of sight of the Emerald City. In truth, they were almost six hundred miles away, and after eleven hours of easy flight, as the sun began to set behind them, they finally approached Colwen Grounds.

Elphaba started to get nervous. "Just remember, Father's a strict Unionist and the most traditional person I know," she was saying. "He's already going to be cross that you didn't ask him before proposing and–"

"–and if he finds out we've been sleeping together too, he'll probably have a heart attack," Fiyero finished dryly, rolling his eyes at her. "Elphaba, I know. I said I'd do this for you and I'll do it properly. I am capable of it."

She let out a long breath and shook her head, apologising by taking hold of his hand. "I know, I know, I just... really want this to go right."

"What could go wrong? You weren't worried about asking Oscar."

Elphaba shook her head, a fond little smile touching her mouth. "It's not like he was ever going to say no," she replied dryly, and Fiyero chuckled.

"That's true enough." The old man had been so happy just to be acknowledged as one of her fathers that he would have cheerfully agreed to just about anyone, let alone Fiyero, whom he truly liked. Although he knew that the request was more a courtesy than anything else, it was a courtesy that gave him validation, and that meant more to him than any traditional right.

"But Elphaba, I'm going to marry you no matter what anyone says," said Fiyero, still puzzled, "your fathers or mine. So again, what could go wrong? It's not like we're a bad match. Politically speaking, he should be over the moon."

She sighed, brief merriment fading. "A lot of things could go wrong. I probably haven't even thought of half of them."

Serious now, he turned, and reached up to brush his fingers across her cheek. "I promise you it'll be fine," he said. "What are you so afraid of?"

Elphaba was quiet. She had never quite been able to tell him that Frexspar considered her too repulsive to be loved at all, or that he'd accused her of abusing her power at the Lurlinemas Ball several years ago. She knew Fiyero would react badly if he ever found out – he had a charming chivalrous streak that emerged at the most surprising of times – and touching though it might be to witness, she really didn't want to start a fight if it could possibly be avoided. Having the abdicated-Heir-Apparent of the Vinkus bloody the nose of Munchkinland's former Governor Regent was a diplomatic disaster that she and Glinda could do without.

To her relief, Frex hadn't brought up the issue since, probably appeased by the constant press speculations pairing Fiyero with Glinda, but she worried that, by coming in and announcing her engagement now, out of the blue, she was only making it more likely that her father would believe she was seducing Fiyero by magical means.

She didn't know if she could stand that. She didn't want to see Frex angry or give him cause to hate her any more than he already did, for she knew he held her responsible for her mother's death regardless of how foolish that was. What she wanted, more than anything, was to hear him say he was proud of her. Of course she would be marrying Fiyero anyway, but she wanted Frex to approve, to give his blessing, not be shouldered aside by people who loved her more.

And yes, she knew they loved her more. Fiyero, Glinda, Nessa and Oscar loved her more than she could ever have expected, but that wasn't quite enough to fill the gap left the one person who didn't. The short, gruff comment he'd made in a recent business letter about how her Equality Employment Act had been good for Munchkinland had made her gleeful in ways she knew were horribly out of proportion to the actual sentiment, but she'd spent too many years trying to earn her father's love to stop hoping that maybe, someday...

Fiyero knew this. Glinda knew more, but he knew enough. He knew they weren't close, that Nessa was the favourite daughter, and he'd seen Frexspar rage at her the one time he'd caught them together, but that didn't mean he understood why it was so important to her. Neither did Glinda; they couldn't see why she was so desperate to have the approval of one father when she had another who loved her with all his heart despite not being around to raise her. But that was just it – Frexspar Thropp had raised her, and for all that Oscar was her blood relative, Frex would always be her father more.

But she couldn't explain that, so she just shook her head and leaned into Fiyero's hand, letting him cup her cheek as she said, "Just nervous, I guess."

He looked sceptical, and it occurred to her that maybe he saw through her more deeply than she thought, but all he did was shrug. "If you say so," he replied, looking out at the darkening landscape, the long shadows, and the streaks of sunlight that were still managing to stretch across it. "Anything else you want to tell me five or six times before meeting the governor?"

Her lip twitched in a little smile – damn him for being able to amuse her whenever he wanted – and she said, "Well, you can start by not calling him that, as it's Nessa's title now. I think it's still all right to call him 'Regent', but he was a minister before taking on my mother's job and that's what he likes best."

"'Minister Thropp', then? I can do that. What else?"

For another twenty minutes they floated on, and Elphaba stopped constantly re-heating the air in the balloon, letting them sink slowly to the ground. They hadn't judged their speed all that accurately, and the sun was almost gone by the time they saw Colwen Grounds by its hazy, leftover red light, but that wasn't what was on Elphaba's mind as they drifted in, now low enough to make out faces and call out names.

What had caught her attention were the many soft lights coming from the far side of the manor, along with the muffled sound of voices and music. There were quite a few carriages parked out front, too, and she shook her head, puzzled. "What's going on?"

Fiyero raised an eyebrow. "It looks like a party," he replied.

"But... I told them I was coming."

A few silver-clad servants could be seen sprinting down paths alongside the house, pulling on gloves with which to catch the anchor rope that Fiyero was ready to throw down. Elphaba was supposed to be opening the balloon's top vent, allowing hot air to escape and lower them faster, but she was distracted. As they floated over to the rear of the house, they were greeted with the sight of several dozen revelling rich folk... and cheers.

Elphaba blinked. Fiyero had to reach up to open the vent himself.

Amidst the pinkish lights and happy festivities of the garden party, Frexspar Thropp was standing on the stone steps of the patio. He had clearly just begun to make some sort of speech, and was telling his guests, "... the Grand Vizier, my daughter Elphaba!" Applause broke out again.

Fiyero was somewhat surprised. Elphaba could have been knocked over with a feather.

A few minutes later, the basket had touched down on a wide expanse of grass just beyond the edge of the party, and as their balloon slowly deflated, the crowd of Munchkinlanders (almost all tall, given that they were upper-crust gentility who had long since married out of dwarfdom) approached with Nessa and Frex in the lead. In sharp contrast to his solemn black minister's robes, the man was smiling warmly.

At Elphaba.

Nessarose rolled up to them, pushed by a butler and practically beaming. At her sister's stunned expression she laughed and said, "Surprise!"

Helped out of the basket by Fiyero, who had hopped over the edge a moment ago, Elphaba just shook her head. "What's going on?" she asked in a low voice, eyeing the crowd, none of whom looked ready to throw their drinks at her. "A surprise– Nessa, what kind of–?"

"My friends!" said Frex grandly, addressing his guests. "We all know about all the wonderful things our Wizard does, but over the last few years he has had much help–" he gestured to Elphaba "–and without that help we would not now be facing the most prosperous season Munchkinland has seen in the past ten years. The dedication and sound financial judgement of our leaders have been of aid to us all, so I ask you now to raise your glasses to the one most responsible for bringing such benefits to her homeland. Welcome back, Elphaba; it's good to have you home."

Applause and the clink of toasted glasses followed, and Elphaba felt a huge smile leap across her face as Frexspar offered his hand for a friendly shake. She was so happy, she hugged him.

"Ah – and we welcome her unexpected guest, of course!" continued Frex, patting her back and extracting himself as he noticed Fiyero standing nearby. "His Highness, Fiyero Tiggular of the Vinkus."

Urging Elphaba to let go – it wasn't proper, after all, even for a daughter – Frex approached Fiyero quickly, a pleasant smile fixed on his face as he shook the younger man's hand. Elphaba, who had turned back to her sister in confusion, did not notice.

"I don't understand," she was saying, looking around at the many guests and accepting a glass of wine from the staff. "Why have a party?"

Nessa was smiling, shaking her head a little in amusement. "We missed you," she said simply. "You haven't been home for more than a year now and I know the chances are we won't get to see you again before your birthday, so since twenty-five's a big number I asked Father if we could have a little celebration."

Any gathering that involved the heads of every rich and important family in Munchkinland did not strike Elphaba as 'little'. "You invited all these people just for my birthday?"

"Well, no, that was Father's idea. This is our part of Oz and you barely know anyone important, so we thought we'd make it a social event so both you and I can get to know our people better. Everyone's been eager to see you, Elphaba," she added pointedly.

"They're not throwing mud," muttered her sister, who had just caught sight of a hatchet-faced old hag who used to sneer every time the green child crossed her path. To her surprise, the woman smiled and raised her fluted glass, toasting as though they weren't twelve feet and years of resentment apart.

Then Frexspar, who had finished exchanging pleasantries with Fiyero, turned and said, "Why don't you tell us all about your latest work with the Quadlings, Elphaba? We heard that you charmed Chief Tiger Claw into signing the Four Corners Farmland agreement last autumn." And, as swiftly as if he'd put an arm around her shoulders, Frex turned them towards the house and spurred everyone into walking. Elphaba blinked, startled.

"Well, it – it really wasn't like that," she stammered. "Quadling Country gets the most benefits anyway and they–"

Her voice was then lost to Fiyero's ears, muffled by the chatter of the Munchkinlanders who followed Minister Thropp, the Madame Governor, and the flustered Grand Vizier. Fiyero himself went quietly, nodding politely at the guests, a frown working its way across his face.

The party was undoubtedly a success. Shifting indoors after what had been a very beautiful day, it was the ideal setting for social interaction – the food was good, the music lively, the hosts welcoming, and the guests chatty. Everyone seemed eager to talk about the prosperity of Oz in general and Elphaba beamed every time someone spoke of 'equalisation' or 'mutual benefits'. She was asked endless questions about her work and her goals, her opinions on this and her decisions on that, and though there were so many people wanting the Thropps' attention that she spent little time with either her sister or father, she often exchanged glances with them, and those glances were always followed by smiles.

That didn't mean, however, that it was a good party. Fiyero knew it really wasn't fair of him to be suspicious just because the minister was being more warm and friendly than expected, but there was something here that just felt... off.

Now, Fiyero Tiggular knew parties. He'd lived and breathed them his whole life, from toddling through Vinkun solstice celebrations through to drunken gigs at university and Glinda's formal balls, and he'd come to have an innate sense of mood, the ability to read the tone of a room from the first moment he stepped in – and this place reeked of self-interest.

It wasn't in the words. The words being spoken were the polar opposite of selfishness, all about cooperation and sharing and so on, but the feel of it just wasn't right. Yes, the smiles were genuine, but not generous; the glint in people's eyes was of ambition, not excitement. That in itself wouldn't have mattered much – it was typical of politics, and more or less expected at any gathering of the rich and powerful – if not for the unsettlingly similar conduct of Minister Frexspar Thropp.

Thing was, there was nothing really wrong with his behaviour, and though Fiyero couldn't shake his bad feeling, he couldn't find anything to support it either. The minister was making effective use of his time, talking business with every group of people just long enough to keep their favour before moving on, efficiently managing to speak with everyone at least once. He was polite and courteous, and if he didn't spend much time with his daughters, it was perfectly excusable – he had guests to attend to, and the girls would still be there tomorrow. He was tactful and honest without being dry and polite as polite could be, insofar as Fiyero could tell from joining in several of the man's conversations and eavesdropping on most of the rest. He started to doubt himself. Was he just looking for faults because he didn't like Frex? Was he being a paranoid and overprotective caveman, trying to shield Elphaba from things for which she really didn't need his help?

If so, it wouldn't be fair, because she was obviously happy to the point of ecstatic. She'd told him before how she'd grown up resenting and even a bit afraid of many of the people her father worked with, and the contrast to how they treated her now – congratulating her and asking question after awed question – was striking. She could hardly be blamed for enjoying it. And to be fair, there was nothing in the guests' behaviour to suggest deceit. Of course they would leap at any chance to talk to the Grand Vizier; it was her job to help the people of Oz in any way she could. That they were hoping to win extra favour with slight falsities and mild flattery was a human fault that Elphaba was long since accustomed to from three years of listening to petitions. She was an adult, and perfectly aware that even the most honest of people usually had at least two motives.

He was just afraid that, in the thrill of the day, she might be forgetting it.

Of all the people in the room, Nessarose was the only one who didn't worry him. Quite innocently, she had missed her sister, and several times he saw her try to extract herself from dull conversation to wheel over and ask about little details of Elphaba's life. She was taking her job as Madame Governor very seriously, of course, just as she had been ever since assuming the post, but she spent as much time chatting to old matriarchs about their families or how they were liking the Vinkun tea as she did to town mayors about politics. She talked to Fiyero for a while, too, reminiscing about Shiz and asking some very intelligent questions about Arjiki history. She was the perfect hostess, and aside from the shadow that crossed her face when Boq's name came up by accident, happy.

Fiyero was all but ready to give it up and admit to being wrong when he saw what, had he known it, he'd been looking for all night. Frexspar and Elphaba were standing fairly close by, having two different conversations with different groups and facing in more or less opposite directions. Frex was talking about how schools were in need of additional funding with several people who just happened to have those kinds of funds in their pockets, and said something along the lines of, "...think so many private schools are unnecessary, Mayor Buckleton; my daughter Elphaba was more than happy to learn with children from all sorts of backgrounds..." and at the moment he said "my daughter", Elphaba's head turned towards him. Wearing the steady smile that he'd put on for Buckleton, he nodded and gestured acknowledgement by lifting toward her the hand that held his wine glass, and as he did so, her face lit up with joy.

Fiyero's fell.

Of course. Of course. These were politics all right, but politics on a more personal level than she was used to. In the city there was a clear divide between her friends and strangers, with no need to doubt the motives of those close to her, but here... The minister's generous use of phrases like "my daughter" were only being used when talking to those people whose help he needed; he'd never said it directly to Elphaba. He was tailoring his behaviour to the public, and public opinion of the green woman had changed since she was given power. She had been judged a success, and so for the first time, these people were seeing her as an asset rather than an embarrassment. Frex was using that for the good of his government, hammering into people's minds the fact that they had connections to the Grand Vizier, which would entice the rich to cooperate with him and Nessa in hopes of gaining favour from her, and through her, the Wizard.

It was all business and no malice, but Elphaba was seeing it as affection.

Damn.

Fiyero considered telling her, drawing her aside and making enough indirect comments to make her realise how much she was reading into all this... but he couldn't. She was so blissfully happy that he just didn't have the heart.

They say that things always look better after a good night's sleep. In Fiyero's case, this was mostly true, and not just because a stack of luggage in a wicker basket was a more uncomfortable bed than he was willing to admit.

At breakfast the next morning, things seemed to be all right. Fiyero had managed to get there on time, despite having to sneak up to Elphaba's room to fetch the dark green vest they'd packed into her case, and arrived to find the minister already in deep conversation with his eldest daughter about the renovations being made to some old building she'd apparently known since childhood. She was obviously still rather euphoric, and Fiyero relaxed a bit, his usually-dominant optimistic side pointing out that just because Frex had been playing up their Happy Family image for the guests didn't mean any of it was insincere, just that his actual feelings weren't quite so fervent. Firmly telling himself that Elphaba knew her own family better than he did anyway, Fiyero resolved to try and let it go, to let her be happy, and greeted them both with a friendly smile and an unimportant comment about the impressive view from his guest room. Nessarose arrived a few minutes later, and then they sat down to the meal.

The conversation they kept up was pleasant, even lively, and to Fiyero's surprise both Nessa and the minister managed to keep bringing up topics that interested him – mutual acquaintances, upcoming projects, the Vinkun tea trade, even sports – and Elphaba talked about everything, forgetting to eat so often that by the time the others were done, her bowl was still half full.

"At least it can't go cold," Fiyero teased, for which he received an unusually good-humoured glare.

Frex pushed away his crockery. "Well, Elphaba," he said, "we've made sure to keep our entire schedule clear today, so what would you like us to do with our time?"

Her eyes widened and she had to consciously remember to swallow before speaking. Fiyero caught her gaze, silently asking if now was the time to mention their engagement, but she shook her head.

"Actually, I have something I want to give," she said, grinning broadly. "To you, Nessa – a gift for you."

"Elphaba, you shouldn't have," said Nessa in polite, smiling protest. "It's not my birthday coming up soon."

She didn't entirely mean it, of course – who doesn't like to get presents? – so after some fairly routine insistence, Frex suggested that they move to the sitting room and Elphaba disappeared up the stairs to fetch her mystery parcel.

As Fiyero wheeled her across the hall and through a doorway, Nessa turned in her seat to ask, "Do you know what she's so excited about?"

He nodded, glad that this, at least, was one part of the visit that couldn't go wrong, and smiled at her. "She's been going on about it for months. But I can't tell you, Nessa – I'd end up very, very dead if I ruined the surprise now."

The scale he implied seemed to impress her and she didn't ask more questions while they waited, sitting around a low table that would be holding a tea tray if they hadn't just walked away from a meal. It didn't take long for Elphaba to return, and when she did she was carrying a large box and a nervous expression that kept switching places with a grin.

"This might not work," she warned immediately, putting the box down for Nessa to open. "Glinda and I have tried every test we can think of and we're mostly sure they'll work, but we couldn't experiment properly without a test subject and there's only so much the spells and theory will tell us..."

"Elphaba," said Nessa, puzzled, "it's a pair of shoes."

She was right, of course. Inside the white box were two soft ankle boots, moderately fashionable – or so Glinda said – but nothing remarkable, save for the faint glow surrounding the shocking red leather.

"You need to put them on," said Elphaba, kneeling by the chair. "I hope it'll work – it should, and even if it doesn't we should be able to fix it if we have your help. This is from Glinda too, by the way; she came up with the idea of using shoes instead of clothing, and she wanted to be here, but..."

By this point Nessa's normal black shoes and stockings were off, and Elphaba was carefully sliding the first limp white foot into the boot. Nessa was still puzzled, and Frexspar no less so, but as green fingers tugged it into place, she gasped.

"It's warm! It feels so warm, Elphaba – it's almost hot!"

"That'll go away soon," she promised. "It's because the magic in the shoe is stimulating the nerves and blood in your foot. You won't notice after a few minutes. Here, you'll need the other one."

Realisation was starting to dawn on Frex, who looked between his daughters with widening eyes, but it wasn't until Fiyero crouched beside the wheelchair and began to lift the crippled girl from her seat that anything quite so life-changing occurred to Nessa.

When Fiyero tucked an arm under her shoulders and helped her up, she gasped, and as one red boot obediently jumped forward onto the floor, she squeaked, staring at the leg that had never before moved on its own.

Elphaba held her breath.

Slowly, Fiyero let go, easing out from under Nessa's weight, hands still hovering nearby in case something went wrong. Her arms were stiff, sticking out awkwardly as she stared at her feet, and a moment later the second red boot moved.

She had taken her first step.

Frex rose to standing, entirely unaware of doing so. He stared in wonder, his expression beautiful, all soft eyes and smiling lips that trembled with unfinished words. He held out his arms, making a great effort not to move across the two feet of floor space that stood between him and his youngest daughter.

Smiling fit to burst, Elphaba watched as Nessa took two, three, four shaky steps towards her father. Fiyero stayed behind her, just in case, but there was no need; as she reached her destination she threw herself into Frex's arms, shrieking as he caught her.

"Look at me, Father, LOOK!" she cried, beaming. "I can walk! – oh, Elphaba, Elphaba, I can walk!" She turned to her kneeling sister, tears in both their eyes, and with a complete lack of grace she moved again, stumbling forward until she was hugging her. "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"You're welcome," said Elphaba holding her, burying her face in her sister's hair. "I wanted so much... It works," she whispered, almost to herself. "It works, finally. I should have done this years ago."

"You managed now," said Fiyero warmly, as relieved as the others were giddy. "How does it feel?" he asked Nessa.

"Amazing," she replied, keeping one hand on Elphaba's shoulder for balance while she scrubbed tears from her eyes."Sweet Oz, I can walk. I can run and climb and–" she hesitated, glancing at her wobbly legs. "Elphaba, will I be able to...?"

Elphaba nodded, pulling herself up to stand. "You just have to get used to it. The spell provides extra strength and gives your brain command of your legs, but you'll have to build up muscle power on your own. Slowly, Nessa," she cautioned, steadying Nessa's shoulders as she immediately tried to flex her leg; "the magic can't give you agility or balance – you have to learn to control your body yourself. It'll take time, and the moment you take those shoes off, it's gone."

"So I'll have to wear these forever?" asked Nessa, brow furrowed and leaning on her sister's arm as she learned what it was like to stand still. "Does the spell only work once?"

"No, of course not," said Elphaba. "What I meant was that you can't wear them all the time; it's not healthy for your body to have so much magic running through it. As long as you always take them off to sleep at night, you should be fine."

Nessa was too gleeful to worry about that right now. Gripping Elphaba's fingers with one hand, she slowly made her way around the back of the couch, free hand ready to balance on it if she had to. Suddenly she tripped, toe caught in a roll of carpet, but was caught by her sister before Frexspar could panic. "I'm all right!" she cried happily, knees shaking as she moved away from the safety of the couch, testing the strength of her limbs on the open floor. "Father, look, I'm all right! I can do this! Oh, there's so much I can do now!"

She beamed, her joy infectious, and Frex was equally jubilant. "We'll get you the best trainer on Oz," he promised, hurrying forward and taking gentle hold of her left hand, just as Elphaba had on her right. "You'll be dancing in no time at all."

"Dancing!" Nessa exclaimed, the thought never having occurred to her. "Dancing, oh! Waltzes and jigs and– Father, will you teach me to dance?"

"Yes, anything, of course. Here, try this," said Frex, smiling and stepping around to her back, holding both her arms from behind and guiding her towards one of the low ramps he'd installed around the house years ago. He was so intent on helping her balance, so focused on every move she made, that he didn't notice that he'd just shoved Elphaba aside.

The slope was slight, and Nessa shakily but decisively put one booted foot on it, her ankle learning to bend and roll as she shifted her weight, and then she took another step, and another, and another...

And then she, and Frex, were gone. They had moved out the door, into the hallway, and through to the rest of the house without ever once looking back. Elphaba stood where she had been left, elbowed away by Frexspar, unthanked, unremembered, and alone.

Slowly, painfully, her joy crumbled.

For several long minutes, it was quiet in the sitting room. Elphaba sat on the couch, eyes fixed to the spot where her father had vanished, almost as though will alone could make him think of her. But it didn't, couldn't, and every moment that ticked by made the sour truth all the more clear.

It was so simple. Even if she had earned any approval from Frex with her years of hard work and determination, it had all been undone the moment she gave him one perfect daughter instead of two disfigured ones.

The little voice in her head, the one which had spent all of last night saying this was too good to be true, howled in hollow triumph.

Fiyero tried to help. He put on a bright smile and congratulated her, eagerly asking how she'd managed it, but was flatly told that he already knew the answer, having watched her work for six months solid. Dropping the smile and the attempt at distraction, he sat down and put an arm around her.

She didn't cry. Somehow it never occurred to her.

The room was silent. Outside, they could hear the faint clunk of clumsy footsteps and the muffled cries of surprise from staff members. Nessa's own happy exclamations echoed down occasionally, as did Frexspar's proud tones. Apparently they were climbing the stairs.

It was Nessa he was proud of, of course, not Elphaba. It was clear to her now that no matter what she did, he was never going to be proud of her.

Eventually Nessa must have remembered them, for the irregular sound of her walk finally became louder, and then she came through the doorway, lily-white skin flushed from an effort she'd never before had to make. She was absolutely abuzz with questions.

"Elphaba! Elphaba, how does it work? Can you cast that spell on other shoes? Any shoes? What about my slippers, or stockings? This is so wonderful, thank you!" she exclaimed, doing a lopsided pirouette that left her dizzy. Frex caught her. Elphaba stayed put.

"The enchantment will work on any shoes that are relatively sturdy," she replied calmly, but without a trace of her earlier joy. "They'll all turn red, though. Side effect."

Nessa was not so self-absorbed as to miss this abrupt change in behaviour. She wobbled in one spot and turned, brow furrowed. "What's wrong, Elphaba? It works! It really, really works. I could even climb the stairs!"

"Yes, and well done, Elphaba; you've given your sister a remarkable gift," said Frex, oblivious to how much those words were supposed to mean to her, and didn't. "We'll have the ramps removed right away, of course," he went on. "The wire-cage lift, too, though that will be a little harder to–"

"Do you love me?"

The room froze. Elphaba was sitting, dark eyes fixed on her father, who stood with his mouth still half-open. Nessa looked stunned, confused, almost stricken, and Fiyero reached out to touch Elphaba as though to protect her from the reply, but she shrugged him off. She had to know.

Frex hesitated. "You're my daughter," he replied, and oh, how different those words sounded after hearing Oscar say them first.

"That's not an answer."

A pause – a long one. He couldn't seem to form an answer.

Elphaba deflated. Her eyes dropped, shoulders slumping. "I guess I already knew that," she said quietly.

Frexspar shook his head in a familiar let's-be-reasonable manner. "Listen, El–"

"You loved Mother. And Nessa. Why them and not me?"

His mouth closed and opened several times... then closed again. He couldn't say anything.

"Did you ever love me?"

Again, silence. There was nothing to say.

Never breaking their gaze, Elphaba slowly shook her head. Without a word she turned and walked off, out through the glass doors and into the garden.

"Father..." implored Nessa, but she seem to be out of words, too. After a moment she just turned and hobbled away, following her sister as fast as she could.

Fiyero was left with a blinking Frexspar. The minister didn't seem to notice him, watching the open door with a look in his eyes that was something akin to faint regret.

That just wasn't good enough.

Caveman coming through, thought Fiyero, and stepped forward to block the bright square of natural light. His arms hung loosely at his sides, but for all the aggression in his posture, they might as well have been folded – or in fists.

Frex blinked. "Excuse me, Prince Tiggular, I must–"

"No."

More blinks. Could the man do anything else? "I beg your pardon?"

Now he did fold his arms, glaring at the man who had the gall to stand there in honest confusion. "I said no. Do you have any idea how long it took me and Glinda to convince her that anybody could really care about her? More than a year. If not for Nessa I don't think we'd ever have managed. Don't you realise how much she needs you to love her?"

Apparently Frex was still trying to be diplomatic. "Your Highness, I appreciate your concern, but this is a family matter–"

"Yeah, it is, and I'm family now too, because I'm going to marry her. That's what we came down here to tell you, because she wanted your blessing."

Finally, a reaction: Frex's expression went from puzzled to stony. "I cannot give it," he replied. "I won't allow her to–"

"I don't care," said Fiyero, "not anymore. You don't deserve to be her father." He turned away; this conversation was finished.

"You're under enchantment," Frexspar informed him with infuriating certainty. "I don't know how she did it, but–"

Fiyero whirled around, jaw tight, but didn't punch him. Elphaba would have been proud.

"She did nothing of the sort," he snarled. "You can go ask the Wizard if that'll prove it to you – I'm not under a spell." The little part of his mind still in the mood for humour added, Not literally.

"You don't understand," said the minister, trying to force his tone to be calm. "The Unnamed God has marked her as an example of sin. Green is a sign of–"

"You actually think this is all about her skin," Fiyero said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Figures. This is why I never took religion seriously."

Caught off-guard, Frex blinked again, and Fiyero went on.

"Look, I don't care what you think. We're announcing it when we get back, and the Wizard already approves. You can either play your part and pretend to be happy for her or make a scene, but it won't change anything." Catching sight of a portrait of Melena, looking young and mischievously happy, Fiyero pointed and said, "They told me she loved Elphaba. Maybe you should think about what she'd want you to do."

Then he left, coat swirling dramatically behind him.

Frex looked at the portrait, to the door, and slowly sat down.

Elphaba hadn't gone far. For all that the manor was a private residence, there were too many staff members about to ever really be alone, and so she had ducked into the little memorial garden Frex had built for their mother years ago (pointless, really, as there were reminders of her everywhere, but it was conveniently hedged-in), and dropped heavily onto a stone bench. It had been so hard to keep her chin up in there that now, she just stopped trying.

Nessa arrived soon after, puffing and panting, bits of hair stuck to her sweaty forehead. She looked so upset that Elphaba's first instinct, after years of being the caretaker, was to go and comfort her, but today it was Nessa's turn to be selfless, and she got there first. Stumbling in and scratching her new boots rather badly, she reached the bench, collapsed by her sister's side, and hugged her.

The gesture was much appreciated. It was awkward, as Elphaba was taller even when sitting down, but they made it work. She leaned over into her sister's arms, head tucked onto her shoulder, and Nessa rubbed her arm to soothe her, trying to work out what to say. "He didn't mean it," she managed at last.

A bitter laugh, almost a cackle of black humour. "Don't delude yourself," said Elphaba, miserable but still dry-eyed. "I've been doing that long enough for the both of us."

Tightening the hug, Nessa shook her head, unable to believe it. "Maybe... if you just talk to him, try to–"

"No," said Elphaba, more harshly than she'd intended. Catching herself, she softened and went on, "No, Nessa, I can't do this anymore. I've tried everything I ever could to make him love me, and it hasn't been enough. It never will be."

"But–"

"Nessa," she implored softly, pulling back and to look her in the eye, "he doesn't love me. He can't even bring himself to say he's proud of me."

"He's not the talkative type," she argued desperately. "Please, Elphaba..."

Elphaba closed her eyes, shoulders shuddering as she shook her head. "You can't tell me you don't see the difference in how he treats us, Nessa. He doesn't want me – doesn't want to love me. He wants to live in a perfect world where Mother's alive and you're their only child. Please try to understand, he honestly couldn't care less about me. I don't even think he hates me; I used to, but I don't. He's just indifferent, and always will be. Can't you see that?"

There was a long silence in which sister looked at sister, one wrestling with denial, the other with dejection, and at last she said, "I... I do. Elphaba... I'm so sorry."

And then they were hugging again, and it was impossible to say who was comforting who.

That was how Fiyero found them, several minutes later. He ambled into the hedged garden, hands in his pockets and kicking small stones, looking weary. He smiled a little, though, upon seeing them, and sat down quietly. "You're all right?" he asked. Elphaba looked up, still leaning her head on her sister's, and nodded.

"It hurts," she admitted, "but it's... it's time to accept it. I'm through with waiting and wishing for things that will only hurt me. I have to move on."

Fiyero nodded, rubbing her shoulder with one hand. After a long moment he confessed, "I, uh – I told him. I know you wanted to do it yourself, but..."

She shook her head; that whole mess seemed insignificant now. "What did he say?"

Fiyero paused. "...I told you it wouldn't make a difference."

Something bad, then. To her own surprise, Elphaba found she wasn't at all curious about the details. She just shrugged. "So much for that."

But Fiyero didn't tend to settle for less when someone he cared about was unhappy, and the look on his face was thoughtful. Nessa, who had been listening, was puzzled, but before she could ask Fiyero turned to her and asked, "Would you give us your blessing, if it'd make Elphaba happy?"

Nessa shook her head in confusion at the same time Elphaba waved it off, saying, "It's okay, Fiyero. You can't fix this."

But he shook his head, knowing that this was still important to her. "It's tradition," he argued lightly, "but who says I have to ask a father? She's family, and she loves you. How about it, Nessa?" he went on, turning to the other girl. "Would you mind having me as a brother-in-law?"

Nessa's eyes widened and she glanced between them, startled. After a moment, she spluttered, "What happened to 'silly rich boy'?"

At that, Elphaba actually laughed, if quietly. She shrugged. "I guess I don't mind," she said, and Fiyero chuckled.

It was the humour that did it. Nessa had known for years that her sister had feelings for Fiyero, though unlike her father, she had never suspected love potions. That Elphaba had someone who loved her while Nessa didn't was hard to accept with any grace, and had only made things worse the day her highly-moral big sister had swooped in and taken Boq away from her. She was jealous, and had sometimes been close to spiteful, but seeing them laugh, and knowing how rarely that green shell cracked enough to express real feeling... it was a sign of great maturity on her part that Nessa swallowed her envy and offered them a smile. "Does that mean you want me to give you away at the altar?"

Now Elphaba laughed a real laugh, and pulled her sister close. "I love you, Nessa," she said.

"I know," said Nessa quietly, hugging her back. "I love you, too."

One week later, back at home in the Emerald City, Elphaba, Fiyero, Glinda and Oscar were sitting in his little dining room, sketching out the upcoming announcement.

"So is the minister coming to give you away or not?" asked Glinda, shuffling some note cards on the table, two of about two thousand. Elphaba – who would have gladly walked down the aisle alone if they hadn't already disregarded enough nuptial traditions to make the press scream – shook her head.

"He says that, as a Unionist, he can't be seen to support a ceremony with such heavy pagan influence–" she flicked a hand towards the stacks of sample fabrics for her dress, all white and all flatly rejected because she refused to wear that colour "–but he won't shame the Wizard by refusing to attend."

Glinda groaned. "Perfect. I can't even begin to imagine how that will be seen."

"Couldn't we find some way to explain it that makes it sound like he's being noble or something?" asked Fiyero, looking up from the rough guest list. "We've made up excuses before."

"Not unless you want him to officiate," replied Oscar, who was writing the first of many invitations. "It's the only role that wouldn't be seen as a downgrade."

An idea struck Elphaba, and on impulse, she turned to him. "You could do it," she said, and Oscar looked up, puzzled.

"Officiate? Well, I suppose, given that there's no religion involved..."

"No," said Elphaba "I mean, you could walk me down the aisle. It wouldn't look insulting if he stepped aside for you."

Oscar blinked, startled, and then a few stray tears formed in his eyes. "My dear girl... I would be honoured."

Elphaba smiled slightly and nodded, and then added, more for his sake than hers, "Thank you... Father."

Author's Notes: For this chapter I've used the map in the Maguire novel and worked with some very rough measurements and guesses in terms of time and travel distance; please don't take them as fact.