Sometime during the night, Fiyero had opened his eyes and found himself watching Glinda. He wasn't even sure if the blonde was awake or not; she had her back to him. Elphaba was asleep on the left side of the bed, under a sheet that had slipped down to her hip. She'd had a tendency to run hot - they both did - and Fiyero had often found her this way in the morning, gifting the moonlight with her bare, sculpted perfection. And it seemed that, for once, the prince wasn't Elphaba's only admirer.

Glinda's arm sat delicately angled atop Fae, draped over her stomach with a hand somewhat hidden behind the smallest breast. A thumb that looked almost ivory in the low light kept a slow sweeping motion against dark jade skin, her touch occasionally moving up and down the side of the witch to find new softness. Watching Glinda discover his lover, Fiyero tried to rediscover Elphaba himself. To notice what she was noticing. To look at her through Glinda's eyes, like he did at the Ozdust.

Elphaba would probably equate it to rereading a book when you've forgotten the ending, and getting to experience it for the first time again. Or sharing the story with someone else and watching them love it just as much as you did, reigniting that original excitement. Not that Fiyero would ever need reinvigoration when it came to his Fae.

They'd waited over six years for that moment, not knowing if it was ever going to happen, not even knowing if they'd ever see each other again. No doubt he and Elphaba had created some expectations in their head around that, leaving them unsure; but something about the way they never left each other's eyes quelled the anxieties they both had.

Then it was as if their bodies woke up to each other, making up for that lost time, unleashing a carnal need between both of them - unlocking an immediate understanding. Every way she touched him might as well have been read from his mind. Her body asked for what she needed in a way he inherently understood, and he could give it to her before her lips even found the words. And before they knew it, tender touch had turned into lust that was almost feral between the both of them. Fiyero remembered every moment.

How they'd grabbed fistfuls of each other's hair to pull away for a breath, only to use the same leverage to collide into their lips again, kissing too fiercely. How, when her hands floundered at the ground for something to hold onto, he'd pinned her arms to the leaves, unleashing a gasp that he watched curve into unexpected pleasure on her lips as he kissed her from her breasts to her neck. How she'd gripped his wrists and rolled herself on top of his hips, digging fingernails into his shoulders as she took control with a newfound confidence and drove him deeper inside of her. How, even in the throws of climax, neither would allow the other to lose their eyes, with Elphaba's hands on either side of his neck and Fiyero pulling her hips to snap against his with each thrust. And in the wave of pleasure that crashed over them, holding each other too tight as if the sweat between them would cause them to slip, olive eyes still locked with blue.

Fiyero must have started breathing heavier at the thought, because when Glinda rolled over to face him, she didn't seem surprised he was awake. She did, however, look puzzled at the flush of his cheek and the rise of sweat on his brow - maybe even a brief check lower for any indication of a pitch in the sheet.

"Were you…?"

Fiyero defensively raised both hands, which, to his credit, were already above the sheets at his sides. The bed barely had room enough for two, much less three - not that they'd have it any other way - so when Glinda rolled, she found herself an inch from Fiyero's face. She laughed through her nose and swept the dampness from his forehead.

"I'd forgotten that you run just as hot as her," she whispered, wiping her hand off at his shoulder before scooting her back into Elphaba again. Fiyero raised a brow at her phrasing, and Glinda brushed him off with a playful glare. The green woman stirred slightly, her arm finding the missing blonde and pulling her closer. Fiyero watched Glinda tear between adoring the arm around her and checking the prince for any jealousy or discomfort, so he made a show of contentedly propping his head on one hand as the blissful observer that he was. She mirrored his grin. "You're too into this."

"If you'd rather I get possessive and send you out on the couch—"

"You'd never," Glinda answered quickly, pulling Elphaba's arm to the center of her chest. Fiyero nodded as if in success, and perhaps out of habit, found himself tucking a blonde hair behind Glinda's ear.

"I'd never."

Suddenly, different memories came about. Sharing a bed with Glinda at the palace, once Morrible finally allowed it. Holding her every night he was there. Every night he wasn't making excuses not to be there, or off trying to find Elphaba. Even when they got into bed ripping the covers back with the residual fumes of whatever they'd been arguing about that night, Fiyero always found his arms around her anyway, and with a scowl on her face she would still roll into his chest. In that castle, it was necessary for survival. They had no one else. He'd close his eyes and breathe, brushing his fingers through the silk of her hair. She'd draw herself as close to his core as she could, curled up against it with one arm around him to keep him near. Sometimes she'd tilt her chin up and he'd kiss her. Most of the time, he even wanted to. Any more than that, and they both found themselves lonelier than ever before.

The last time they tried, probably over a year ago, Fiyero caught a tear in Glinda's eye when he removed himself from her. Though he'd sensed she didn't want him to notice, he kissed the tear away and apologized, not knowing quite what for. She'd apologized back - perhaps also not knowing what for - and let him hold her. But even returning to the embrace that felt more natural for them, neither could erase what they'd both felt during an act that was supposed to be the ultimate connection. Lost.

Trapped. A darker thought, a deeper thought, pushed down like stomach acid because he could never think on that one too long. Not without blaming her. And he didn't want to blame her.

An unspoken promise hung in the air after that. They were done trying to make sex work in their relationship. Even his love for her - which against his best interest, he still had - couldn't keep her from disappearing inside herself, closing her eyes and visibly trying to want him when she simply didn't. And Fiyero, who historically could bring himself to enjoy anyone intimately as long as they were enjoying themselves, found himself staring at the girl who many considered to be the most beautiful woman in Oz and lacking that one thing he needed.

Fiyero had suspected for a long time that Glinda might notice women. He'd catch her lingering on more than just a pretty dress at a ball - especially brunettes and darker features - and he got the sense that even Glinda herself didn't realize she was doing it. Perhaps he wouldn't have seen it either had he not strolled alongside her and Elphaba at school, watching the blonde drop his arm in favor of her roommate's. He'd wondered a bit devilishly what they got up to when Glinda - then Galinda - dragged her so quickly back to their dorm, only for Elphaba to emerge from it "Galindafied". The green girl made a joke about how ice cold Glinda's feet were once and the images in his head of how she could possibly have known that definitely entertained him, to say the least. Fiyero had asked Fae about it a few times, if only to see her blush and scoff and claim "It wasn't like that."

And maybe it wasn't, then. But watching Glinda draw a veridian hand to her lips and rest in the witch's embrace, Fiyero knew - and he'd known for a while, now - that both of them were meant to love Elphaba.

Lost in the past, Fiyero didn't realize that he'd left his hand on Glinda's cheek. The blonde eyed him perplexedly, though she seemed less concerned about his hand and more concerned about what was going on in his head.

"You looked sad there, for a moment," Glinda whispered. She fell off of her last word into something unspoken, and Fiyero could almost hear her add dearest.

The prince shook his head dismissively, reassuring her with a smile and reaching towards the nightstand for his sketchbook. He watched her perk up when she saw it. Fiyero made a show of thumbing through it as if he was going to keep it completely to himself, lifting an eyebrow teasingly at the blonde. Glinda looked at the vision in sage behind her, then back at the sketchbook.

"Do you have any of her, like—"

Fiyero shrugged as if he didn't know, playfully turning his notebook away. With a kiss to Elphaba's hand and a dimpled smirk, Glinda parted from the witch and scrambled towards the prince's side for a look.

"I don't know if you're ready for the eyes on this one," he said, hiding his face behind the parchment and flipping to the drawing he'd done some time before Glinda's arrival. When he moved the book down, the blonde was on the other side of it with pleading brown saucers he knew all too well. He couldn't help snorting into a laugh that had both of them check on a sleeping Elphaba, then he placated the blonde and handed her the sketchbook.

"Oh, Oz…"

Fiyero proudly leaned back into the headboard and watched Glinda's face as she processed the drawing. It was Elphaba much like she was now, laying on her back with a blanket having fallen to her hip, her breasts on full display. When the prince was scratching out the scene, she was asleep, but she'd woken up towards the end. With feigned annoyance, Elphaba had let him direct her into a sultry eye contact that he immediately captured in the parchment.

He watched with an artist's pride as Glinda sat there, cross-legged with the sketchbook in her lap, her jaw hanging open. After a moment, she let herself stiffly tip over like a doll, dropping her head onto Fiyero's shoulder as she did so, not letting her eyes leave the sketch for a single moment.

"I'm…going to need to take this," she finally breathed.

With Glinda's head on his shoulder, her smile, her eyes, the safety she seemed to finally feel - Fiyero felt compelled to rip the page right out and hand it to her, along with anything else she could possibly want. But teasing her was more fun, and brought out more of the girl he missed desperately that both he and Elphaba would have juggled cactuses to keep there. If it made her smile, they would do anything.

"I'll take commissions, but that one's unavailable."

Glinda gave him a conspiratorial grin.

"We'll talk."

The blonde settled into his shoulder at an angle, her feet towards the witch. She sighed, yet again taking in the drawing.

"It looks like her," Glinda said more softly. "I love that it looks like her. Nothing extra." Respectful of the charcoal, she floated her finger over the breasts in the sketch that were almost not even there because of how she was lying on her back. Maybe another artist would have accentuated them or made it look like there was something more - adding a dip to her waist, slimming her arms to make them look daintier, lengthening and darkening her feathered black lashes, perhaps. Fiyero loved Elphaba as she was - she was beautiful as she was - and it seemed Glinda thought so, too.

The blonde found herself in a laugh, and the prince turned into the top of her head to see what the source of it could have been. She looked up.

"Do you remember the wedding announcement? I don't know whose chest that was, but it was not mine," she chuckled. "And you—"

"Looking seven feet tall."

Fiyero remembered it well. They'd even baselessly given Glinda blue-violet eyes and made the prince's shoulders sharp and rectangular. For some reason, the couple had found it more confusing than comical when Morrible first showed them; but picturing it now, with the assistance of his ex's infectious amusement, Fiyero was stifling a chortle right along with her. Glinda turned pink trying not to laugh too loud, keeping her porcelain hand over her own mouth until she could stop so as not to wake Elphaba. Finally, with her eyes on a sleeping witch, Glinda quieted. Fiyero had his arm around her now, and the blonde curled her legs up towards him. She sighed and returned to the sketch in her hands.

"But this is Elphie."

Fae, Fiyero thought, but he didn't want to come off like he was correcting her. His Fae.

Elphaba - perhaps belatedly stirred from their laughter - sleepily opened an eye and noticed the distance between herself and the nearest lover. She shifted on her elbow and hip to close with Glinda, yawning, kissing the back of blonde hair and exhaling into the curls.

The prince looked down at the blonde on his arm, pulled up to him without the fear he dreaded she'd have after what she'd been through - the mystery he still hadn't solved that continued to ache inside. But he reminded himself that she was here, and he'd keep her safe. His Glinda.

For all those years, Fiyero and Glinda were lost in the palace without Elphaba. And though joining Fae here had made Fiyero feel more alive than he'd ever felt, they existed on nothing but their love. They breathed it. He wasn't complaining, but it was isolated in its own romantic way. They could forget about the world.

But Glinda, Elphaba, and himself in a bed too small for two people, much less three - that was beyond love. That was family.

You couldn't forget about the world with a family.

You had to lie awake dreading what the world could do to tear it apart.