AN: FFN alerts are still down but I post every Sunday

~o0o~

Fiyero had nearly had it with the green girl. His grounds had thunderstorms more often than not these days, not that they stopped her in the slightest. He usually preferred to avoid her, but that wasn't always possible despite the size of the castle.

And why did she want to clean everything? What did it matter? The dishes she ate off of were fine, what did it matter the state of the kitchen? And she mutilated his herb garden to… what was it?

Oh, yeah.

"Get rid of the vermin in this dump you call a castle, have you no pride in your home?"

He stopped listening after that, though her tirade went on for a good long while. Castle hadn't appreciated the "dump" comment and made her cook her own meals for three days, which she, amazingly, did without complaint.

Chistery also seemed to favor her more, now going to her for stories and lessons in speaking. He still liked to play with Fiyero though, so he counted that as a win.

The weather was growing colder and snow beyond his control would soon be blowing in.

Fiyero wandered aimlessly around the castle in search of something to do. With winter coming, his garden would be locked in a frozen state. Literally. Nothing would grow, but nothing would wither away and die either. Part of the magic he guessed.

Maybe it was time to look in the library again for another way to break his curse.

As he approached, he heard someone singing almost absent-mindedly.

He pushed the doors open to find it had been dusted and swept, with wax paper placed over a few broken windows.

The green girl was taking books down and stacking them on a nearby table. Her raven hair was in that tight bun she always wore, she had those wiry black spectacles perched on her long, thin nose, and she was wearing that dark-colored dress, the skirts all gathered up in the back to keep her legs from getting caught as she climbed up and down the ladder.

She was the one singing. Not that he ever thought about it, but he would've expected her to have a crackly voice like a raven's call. Instead it seemed to float like a siren's song.

"I'll not leave thee, thou lone one, to pine on thy stem.

Since the lovely are sleeping, go sleep thou with them.

Thus kindly I scatter thy leaves o'er the bed

Where thy mates of the garden lie scentless and dead.

So soon may I follow—"

"That's cheery," Fiyero interrupted to stop this weird charmed feeling in his chest.

She snapped her mouth shut and Chistery ended up being the one to send Fiyero a scowl. The Monkey was sitting on a table, scribbling on clean paper with wax pastels.

The green girl said nothing, stacking more books into her arms then carrying them over to another table.

Fiyero stood there and watched her clear the entire bookcase, then grab her cleaning supplies. She dusted the shelves, then dipped a rag in a bucket of soapy water to clean them. There was a pile of rags blackened with dust and grime already building up on the floor. After polishing the wood to a shine, she then moved over to the table to clean the books and check them for damage.

She didn't sing, hum, or even whistle.

"There aren't any crows in here for you to scare," she said. "I don't like when people stare at me."

"How can they help it?"

She inhaled sharply as if to snap back, but just sighed instead.

"Can we skip the stand-off today? I'm not in the mood."

"Fine."

What else was there to do?

Fiyero picked up a cloth and a book, wiping it down.

"Check for damage," she said brusquely. "Or put it in a separate stack and I'll check it. The closest is mildew, the next is grime, after that is chewed, and the last is a combination. If it's okay, place it on that table with Chistery."

"Fine."

When she was done, she strode over to the bookcase to take the next row up, her boots squeaking as she walked like a scolding 'tsk, tsk, tsk.'

It really had gotten bad in here, hadn't it? Castle could only do so much. Not that Fiyero even knew how to clean in the first place, he was a prince! Princes didn't clean and since he was turned into a scarecrow, dust and stuff didn't bother him.

When the last book from the book case was checked, the green girl grabbed a leather ledger and a pen with a built-in reservoir off the empty table, the page was already filled with writing and a good chunk of the lower level shelves did look much cleaner. When she was done marking them down, they were all returned to the bookshelf.

The next day, they did the same. The library was massive, but with him wiping down and sorting the books while she cleaned the shelves, it went by a lot faster. That didn't mean there weren't arguments. The green girl nitpicked Fiyero's sorting and he made snotty remarks in return.

Day after day, shelf by shelf. The only times they skipped were when the green girl wanted to do laundry or clean her room or the kitchen.

Apparently, dust settled faster than Fiyero thought.

When the bookshelves were done, the green girl insisted on going through the entire castle. Dusting and scraping the cobwebs off the rafters and the walls and the paintings. She beat the dust out of all the tapestries.

"Do you plan on saving yourself some work for winter?" Fiyero asked, sitting on a table while she scrubbed the floor in the ballroom.

"I want to get this done before the snow blows in," she huffed. "Once that happens, I can't open the windows to let the rooms air out."

She scrubbed a tough mark on the floor harder, strands of hair falling out of her bun and into her face.

Fiyero did have to admit, it was nice walking into a room and not leaving behind a footprint. Not that he would tell her that.

Though the snow had begun to fall sporadically weeks ago, Fiyero went out to check if the garden had frozen yet or if he could pick around a little more. He found her walking next to the poppies, wrapped in an old, patched up cloak, and staring up at the sky.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

She glanced at him, then back up. The snow was catching in her hair and on her eyelashes.

"Just taking a walk," she said. "Snow is beautiful."

"You don't get snow where you come from?"

She shook her head, sweeping some snow off a statue. "It gets cold and sometimes there's frost, but no."

Fiyero looked up as well. The sky was a soft grey, the clouds were fluffy, and the flurries were dancing around in the wind with distinct flakes catching onto anything they could reach. Ice was spreading over the flora, giving them the appearance of being encased in crystal.

Yeah… he supposed it was beautiful.

Elphaba blew into the air, watching her breath steam upon contact like cigarette smoke. Fiyero blew too, but nothing happened. Of course it wouldn't. Though he could sigh and speak and huff, he had no true breath. Couldn't when he didn't have any lungs. It was all just… habitual.

Caws rose up and he saw a whole bunch of crows picking at the flowers that hadn't frozen over yet.

"Hey!" he protested and ran over, shooing them away. "The berries I get, but why ruin my nice flowers? I won't be able to fix them until spring!"

The ring leader, distinctive by its piebald coloring, didn't play this time and immediately launched itself at him, pecking at his head. The others followed suit.

"ARGH!" He instinctively shielded his eyes. "Don't you ever migrate?! Hey!"

He was completely swarmed. They pecked, swooped, and tugged at his clothes and stuffing.

There was a clanking noise and as suddenly as the swarm started, it stopped. Fiyero looked up to see the green girl scattering seeds on the ground. The crows pecked at them happily. The leader landed on her shoulder and tugged a strand of hair that came loose from her bun.

"I think you've had enough fun," she said. "Leave him be."

The leader cackled and hopped down to feed with the others. Satisfied, she went over to Fiyero and clucked her tongue.

"Your stuffing's coming out," she said, touching the ripped seam at his shoulder.

Fiyero nearly jumped out of his skin as she touched him. She grabbed his arm and tugged him back into the castle and up to her room.

"Sit down," she ordered.

He plunked down in front of the low stool in front of the fireplace. She brought out a large needle, a ball of twine, and a sack filled with fresh straw. She had already tossed some around on the floor, a practice typically used for stone castles like this one.

He quietly watched her thread the needle. Did her hands always shake that much? They were chapped to the point of bleeding and her fingers were curled in uncomfortably.

She sewed his sagging sleeve back to his body and stuffed more straw into his shirt. She used thread to fix the smaller tears.

Fiyero closed his eyes and focused on the touch. He could feel her skin, cool but rough. Her callouses had callouses. Her fingers were strong, not dainty like many girls he knew from his days as a man.

She also mended the sack he used to cover his head, criss-crossing yellow twine along the mouth to keep it from tearing open too much more.

"All done," she said and gently turned his head. "Mm… not sure I can do much about those."

She ran her fingers over the peck-marks. Fiyero shivered and grabbed her wrists, pulling her hands away.

"Don't worry about it," he said and put the sack back on. "How did you know that would work?"

"I've befriended them," she said. "We have crows in Munchkinland. Ravens, too. I always liked to feed them and they would bring me things in return. Buttons, bottle caps, sometimes coins, I can show—"

She faltered.

"I… no. I left their gifts back home…"

"Why?"

"I guess Father was really afraid you were going to come after him," she said. "I didn't even get to say goodbye to Nessa. He locked me in my room after your carriage arrived so I couldn't run. I tried asking him to send the rest of my things and all I get is 'send money first.' I've run out of my savings, I can't send anymore."

"Oh."

"You're a scarecrow aren't you?" she said, changing the subject. "Why do they torment you so badly?"

"Well, I'm not a very good scarecrow," he said.

She huffed softly, a smile quirking at the corner of her mouth. It slid away as she shivered and hugged her shawl tighter around herself. Was it cold in here? He couldn't tell.

What Fiyero wouldn't give to feel the sun on his face or the biting chill of the wind. To stick his hand in the fireplace and actually feel the burn instead of withering away into nothing.

"I'll be taking my dinner now," she said, standing up.

"You know, you don't have to do that," he said. "Announce when you leave, I mean. You can just leave."

"Force of habit," she said.

For the daughter of a merchant, she acted a lot like a maid. Was he actually sent a servant instead? Or was Mr. Thropp just not all that well-off and she needed to work to make ends meet? He couldn't figure her out like he usually could with people and that bothered him.

With nothing else to do, Fiyero followed her to the dining hall. She mostly ignored him, eating her dinner while reading a book. She was clearing her throat a lot. Maybe the food was spicy? Oh man, he missed food.

In all this time, he never actually did check to see if there was another way to undo his curse. He certainly wasn't going to break it the fairy's way anytime soon, may as well start looking for an alternative.

The green girl closed her book and stood.

"Goodnight, Pumpkinhead," she said.

"I have a name you know," he said, irked. "It's Fiyero."

"And mine is Elphaba," she snipped, though her heart didn't really seem into the argument. "Call me by my name and I'll call you by yours."

She could at least call him 'Scarecrow' he hated it less than 'Pumpkinhead.' Had she ever actually told him her name since she arrived? Of course, he didn't exactly try to find out if she had one.

"You know," he said. "I have money in a vault. You can take from it to send along. I have nothing to spend it on."

Elphaba left him alone without acceptance or rejection of the offer. Rather than get up, he stared at the fireplace until it died out, then went to the library to look for spells.

He searched book after book on magic until the sun rose.

After some time, Chistery flew in looking completely upset.

"What's wrong, Chistery?" Fiyero asked.

"Miss Baba," he said softly. "She sleep."

"Did you try waking her?"

Chistery moaned, then chattered nervously and tugged on Fiyero's hand.

Figuring the Monkey wouldn't leave him alone until he checked on Elphaba, Fiyero let himself be dragged along. He was a bit surprised she wasn't awake yet. The sun was high in the sky, normally she was deep into her work by now.

Fiyero knocked on the door.

"Green girl?" he called.

No response.

"Elphaba," he tried again.

Chistery pushed his way in and hurried to her bed.

If Fiyero got yelled at for going near her sleeping space, he hoped she'd accept 'the Monkey made me' as an excuse.

The door was slightly ajar, allowing some air flow.

As he approached, he heard a deep, rattling cough followed by a strangled gasp. He opened the door to see Elphaba shivering violently under her blankets. A thin sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead, her skin was a pale shade of green that made her freckles stand out as if they had been painted on, and her breathing was labored.

Oh no… she was sick. Why didn't she say—no, why would she tell him?

He touched her cheek lightly.

She opened her eyes, revealing them to be glassy and unfocused. She gasped softly and sat up, touching her head with a wince.

"I overslept, didn't I?" Her voice could barely raise above a whisper without cracking.

"Just a bit," said Fiyero. "Chistery was worried about you."

Elphaba waved her hand in a shooing motion.

"I'm fine," she said and pawed for her glasses. "I'll get up."

"I don't think so," said Fiyero.

"I have to."

"Yeah? What for?"

"There's work to be done."

"There's always work to be done," he countered. "The castle isn't going to fall to ruin just because you got sick."

"Father gets mad if I don't get my chores done."

She managed to get one leg out, the hem to her nightgown riding up to her knee. Slashed across her calf were scars.

The switch.

Fiyero saw them once when he befriended a boy who worked in the kitchens. They were inseparable until they were found out and the boy got lashings for daring to speak to a prince as his equal.

He stilled as the dots connected. Ah. So it was that sort of situation for her. He could have guessed. Drawn his own conclusions.

"He's not here, is he?" he said, stuffing her back into bed. "Or are you worried I'll send him a letter? Ahem! 'Dear Cowardly Merchant, the girl you sent to be my wife—what was up with that by the way? I said I was lonely, that doesn't mean I'm ready to get hitched—has fallen ill and cannot get the chores she assigned herself done. Why couldn't you have sent me a woman made of tin who never tires? So inconvenient, because now she can't clean this massive castle that I haven't bothered cleaning for the past however many years I've been here. Sincerely, the Scarecrow. P.S. Stop asking me for money, you clearly have a job."

Elphaba scoffed lightly and shook her head.

"You need rest," said Fiyero. "I'd give anything to be able to rest. Really resting, not just… meditating."

She looked at him for a long moment, then eased back under the blankets.

"I'll be right back," said Fiyero. "I don't want you out of that bed unless it's to use the toilet."

She muttered something in response and he headed downstairs. The torch brackets along the wall sparked, getting his attention. He followed them to a closet filled with freshly washed blankets and pulled out two wool ones and a pillow and handed them to Chistery.

"Take these to Miss Elphaba," he said.

"Kay-Kay!" Chistery grabbed the bundle and hurried back to the tower.

Fiyero went down to the dining hall and was relieved to find a tray ready with porridge and single-serve tea. He wished he knew what kind it was, but he couldn't smell, much less taste. He picked up the tray and carried it to Elphaba's room. He could hear her coughing from the bottom of the staircase. It was a deep, barking sound that made him wince.

"I'm coming in," he announced.

Chistery hopped down from the chest in front of her bed so he could set down the tray.

"Thank you," she said, propping herself up so she could fix her tea.

Her hands were shaking really badly. Fiyero took the teapot from her and poured it into the cup.

"Here, how do you take it?" Fiyero asked.

"Honey and milk."

"You put milk in your tea?"

"Why not?"

It wasn't exactly common here unless you loaded it up with spices. When Fiyero was human he liked to have green tea with mint and honey.

Instead of explaining this, he fixed the cup as she asked before pressing it into her hands. She sipped it slowly and eased back into her pillows. Swallowing looked painful for her.

Fiyero moved over to the large windows and pulled the curtains shut to stop more snow from blowing in, having Chistery fasten them at the top while he fastened and weighted the bottom down so they couldn't blow open. There were tapestry rods up here, maybe he should bring a couple up from elsewhere to insulate the room. And she did have a fireplace.

Or…

"You don't actually have to stay in the tower," he said. "I just put you here to be an ass. You can pick a room that's better insulated."

"I like it up here."

"There's no need to be stubborn."

"I'm not being stubborn," she sighed, setting her half-eaten breakfast back on the tray. "Yes, it's cold, but I like having the space. I like having the view of the stars. I can't explain it, I just feel freer up here."

She settled back into her pillows, stifling another cough.

"I wish I had wings," she murmured, her eyes sliding shut. "Like Chistery. Then I could've flown away a long time ago."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

She didn't answer and appeared to have fallen asleep.

Fiyero turned to Chistery.

"Keep her company, fetch me if there's a problem."

"Kay-kay!"

Fiyero closed the door to her bed most of the way, pausing just a moment to look at her. She really was pale, almost grey, and the circles under her eyes were dark enough to be bruises. Grasped in her hand was a small, green bottle. It looked like the kind elixirs were sold in.

Elixir.

Getting an idea, Fiyero ran down to the library. Where were they again? He skimmed the shelves, running his wooden fingers along the spines of the books.

"Super Naturals," he read, pausing on one. "Natural home remedies that are simply super."

He pulled the heavy tome down and carried it over to his desk. It was technically meant for the Court Wizard. The wizard's job was to research and order others to conduct research and experiments on their behalf. Fiyero had always thought it was dumb.

When he was human, the only way he would ever end up in a library was on nasty days where he couldn't go outside and he'd run out of puzzles and solitaire was getting boring.

He opened the book and flipped through the pages, minding not to tear them. There. An elixir to ease a cough. It seemed simple enough and Elphaba had trimmed and dried herbs from the garden before it froze.

Taking the book with him to the kitchen, he set it down on the long work bench and looked in the cabinets. If he were herbs, where would he be? A door slammed behind him. He whirled around to see a cabinet door open and shut again.

"Oh, thank you," he said.

He opened it and found glass bottles stuffed with herbs and labeled with scraps of paper in Elphaba's careful script. He grabbed the ivy leaf, marshmallow root, thyme, and aniseed. She looked to have stored what she collected with the spices already in use; they'd been here a while, would they still be okay?

It was hard to shop when you were a seven-foot-tall scarecrow and didn't need to eat to live.

Castle helped Fiyero as much as she could. He followed the instructions of the elixir, relieved to find he didn't need to have magical powers to make it work.

"Well…" he said, swirling the lumpy concoction around the bottle. "It's not going to kill her. I think."

There was a thud and he noticed a thick journal had appeared. He picked it up and recognized his mother's handwriting. He must've still had a heart, because it ached. He flicked through it and found a recipe that she always gave him when he wasn't feeling well.

"And you didn't give me this before I made a mess… why?" he demanded.

The pipes rattled in what sounded like a laugh. Fiyero sighed and put a saucepan on the stove before grabbing a bottle of milk.

The kitchen was a total wreck by the time he was done and he had a new appreciation for the cooks.

"If I'm ever human again, they're all getting full kisses on the mouth," he muttered. "With tongue."

He trudged up to Elphaba's room with the elixir, the golden milk he often had when he was sick as a child, and soup Castle conjured on a tray.

"I'm coming in," he announced.

"I'm awake," she replied.

He entered and put the tray down on the chest in front of her bed.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Uh, Castle made you some soup," he said, briefly lifting the lid so she could see the steam escape. "And these are supposed to help your illness. I don't know what you have and there's no doctor here to check you over, but… it should help with the cough."

He pressed the golden milk into her hands.

"If it's bad, you don't have to drink them," he said. "I probably wouldn't, tastebuds or not."

"You made this?" she asked.

He nodded.

She took a small sip, paused, then a bigger sip.

"Thank you," she said.

"Yeah, well, you're my guest whether I want you here or not," he said. "And it'd be a pain if you died."

"It's just a virus, I'd hardly say I'm at death's door," she said. Rather than angry, she sounded amused.

"Sure, whatever, I don't really care!" He grabbed the old tray and left the room in a rush.