AN: Here you go, guys! I hope you like this one :). Not much more happening, but don't worry - I won't keep you waiting much longer!
12.
If she hadn't been in love with him before, she was definitely in love with him now. Even though it was only a soft and gentle kiss, she could feel heat shooting through her entire body and she could tell that Fiyero was a skilled kisser. A part of her wanted nothing more than to explore how skilled he was, exactly, but she pulled away from him before that part of her could convince her to do something she might regret later.
The people around them were cheering. Galinda and Cyara both squealed, Nessa smiled widely, and even the king and queen looked pleased. Fiyero grinned down at the young witch, releasing her face, but keeping her hand in his.
"How was that?"
"It was okay," she replied dryly, ignoring the way her heart was pounding in her throat.
Fiyero laughed and led her away from the mistletoe and back to the dance floor. She wondered why he'd want to dance again, knowing it must hurt him; but she just went with it without asking anything.
"Fae?" he asked as they were swaying to the music. He was holding her in his arms like she was something delicate and precious and she could feel the warmth of his hands on her waist, even through her dress. "Have I told you already that you look amazing tonight?"
She blushed and lowered her gaze, muttering a "thank you", but he brought her head up so that he could meet his gaze.
"I mean it," he said seriously. "You really do look beautiful."
Her breath catching in her throat, she found herself unable to tear her eyes away from his. He held her gaze as they danced, something smouldering in his eyes that made her blush deepen. Since when did she blush, anyway? Elphaba Thropp never blushed.
Then again, she had also always through that Elphaba Thropp would never fall in love with a prince, that Elphaba Thropp would never get married, and that Elphaba Thropp could never even remotely resemble something beautiful. She supposed she had been wrong about a lot of things.
Fiyero had to pay for his pride with another week in bed, which was why they brought Lurlinemas up to his room. It was nice, he had to admit, to have his family and their guests all in his bedroom, talking, eating, drinking, and unwrapping presents. His parents, Kevon, and Frexspar were all sitting on the couch and chairs by the fireplace, glasses of wine in their hands as they talked. Cyara had taken a seat in the window sill and was talking to Galinda and Boq as the latter stuffed himself with the chocolate, biscuits, and other snacks that had been brought up to the room. Elphaba was curled up on the bed next to Fiyero, dividing her attention between talking to Nessarose and to her fiancé.
He watched her as she talked to and cared for her sister. When Nessa shivered, Elphaba quickly went to fetch her a vest and shawl. Every now and then, she handed the younger girl some food or her glass of wine, letting Nessarose delicately sip the liquid or take a bite of the food. The moment the wheelchair-bound girl mentioned that she was tired, Elphaba excused them both and brought Nessa back to her room, not appearing again until about an hour later.
"Why do you take care of her like that?" Fiyero asked when she settled back on the bed next to him and she looked at him.
"Someone has to," she said.
"Yes," he acknowledged, "but why you? Why not your father, or your servants?"
"I'm her sister, Fiyero," she replied, not meeting his gaze. "She's my responsibility. She always has been. I told you already – I have been the only mother figure she has ever known."
"But you are not her mother," Fiyero said, trying to get his point across. "You're her sister. Taking care of Nessa like that is too big a responsibility for someone your age, Fae."
She snorted softly. "Yero, I've been caring for Nessa my entire life long," she stated matter-of-factly, either not noticing or ignoring the shocked look on Fiyero's face. "She's been my responsibility for as long as I can remember. It was the only thing I could do for her to try and make up for the fact that she had to grow up without a mother," she added softly, so softly Fiyero almost didn't hear her. He frowned, but didn't ask. Not here, not now. He'd ask her later. There seemed to be a lot of things he should ask her about later.
He glanced at the book she had given him as a Lurlinemas present and grinned. It was the newest book of his favourite writer – a horror story, which he knew Elphaba hated. That fact only made him feel more grateful. Apparently she liked him enough to give him a book she herself hated.
He had gotten her a scarf made of Vinkun silk, as well as a book by a writer she loved. She'd been delighted and he had loved the look on her face.
Frexspar bade them goodnight not long after that and soon, his parents left, too. Fiyero, Elphaba, Galinda, Boq, and Cyara stayed for a little while longer; but the latter three eventually went to bed as well, leaving just him and his green-skinned fiancée.
She yawned. "It's late. I should probably go to bed, too."
He quickly grasped her fingers. "Don't go yet. Please?"
She blinked at him.
"I just..." He faltered, then pressed on. "Fae... what did you mean, earlier?" he asked her quietly. "When we were talking about your mother and Nessarose?"
He could almost see her shut him out, her eyes becoming shielded and the expression on her face wary.
"It's nothing, Fiyero," she brushed him off. "It doesn't matter."
"It does," he insisted, making her glare at him, but he wasn't impressed. "Elphaba... you can tell me."
"I don't want to tell you," she snapped, pulling her hand from his grasp. "Let go of me, Fiyero. I'm going to bed."
He thought he was slowly starting to understand her. Each time he talked to her, she seemed to open up a little bit more; but the moment he pushed her too far, she clammed up. She was very sensitive about her skin and her family, but other than that, she didn't mind talking – in fact, she talked a lot if he let her. Not that he minded.
"I'm sorry," he apologised to her, but she still made her way over to the door. "Fae, wait!"
"Why?"
He faltered. "I..." He didn't even know why he wanted her to stay. He just did.
She shook her head, but her face softened. "Yero, it's well past midnight. I need to get some sleep," she said. "I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight."
"Goodnight," he muttered, unsure of what else to say or do to make her stay. She slipped out into the hallway and he fell back against his pillows with a sigh.
She did visit him almost every day after that, which he was happy about. They often read together on his bed, and sometimes they talked, though he was careful not to bring up the subject of her mother and Nessa again. Frexspar spent a lot of time with Nessa and Galinda and the Tiggulars were all busy arranging things for the wedding, which was the main reason why Elphaba sneaked off to Fiyero's room all the time – it was the perfect place to hide from all the wedding preparations.
"Why do you hate it all so much?" Fiyero asked her one afternoon and she made a face.
"It's a lot of work for just an ordinary day," she complained. "All the clothes, colours, and decorations just seem pointless to me. It's about us saying our vows. So why can't we just say our vows and be done with it?"
He chuckled. "You are such a romantic," he teased her, which made her snigger softly.
"I know. Galinda hates it," she confessed, which didn't surprise Fiyero in the slightest.
They sat in comfortable silence for a while before Fiyero got up to use the bathroom, hobbling over to the door. When he came back, instead of getting back into his bed, he made his way over to the couch by the fireplace.
"You're supposed to lie down," Elphaba scolded him even as she joined him, but Fiyero just shrugged.
"My bed is boring," he said. "And I'm cold." He stretched his hands out to the fire and then grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch, wrapping it around himself and holding out an arm to his fiancée, inviting her to join him.
She flushed. "I am not sitting underneath a blanket with you!" she protested.
He grinned at her. "Why not? Oz, Fae, it's not like we're lying naked in bed together. It's just a blanket. You're cold, too – I can see the gooseflesh on your arms."
Realising he was right, she sighed and caved, tentatively sitting down next to him. He instantly drew her close to his side, his arm around her. She squirmed uncomfortably for a moment before he told her to sit still and she froze.
He sighed heavily. "For Oz's sake, Fae, just relax."
"I can't," she protested half-heartedly.
He arched an eyebrow. "Are you afraid I'll molest you? Don't worry, I can behave myself."
She scowled. "It's not that. I could take you, you know."
He grinned at her. "I know. What's the problem, then?"
"Nothing." But she still didn't relax.
He started rubbing his hand up and down her arm. She could feel him nuzzling her hair and she tensed at first, but then she forced herself to relax a little, snuggling into his side.
They ended up spending the rest of the afternoon like that, Elphaba leaning with her back against his side and him leaning against the back of the couch, both of them wrapped in the blanket. She was reading the book he'd gotten her for Lurlinemas and after a while he got up and limped across the room to get his own book, thinking it would be a little creepy if he just sat there and stared at her for hours. She was more relaxed now, though, which he was glad about. The prospect of marrying her, he realised, was growing less and less unwanted.
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