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Elphaba laid on her back in amongst the plush sheets, looking up at the ceiling and trying to come back to herself after the experience she had just had. It all felt like a dream, some delirious haze she was going to wake up from, or which she wouldn’t wake from.
“Well that was fucking incredible.” Fiyero murmured softly, his voice muffled against the hollow of her throat, and sending a ripple through her whole form.
“It really was.” She traced her fingers through his hair, her eyes half lidded, but still filled with adoration for this amazing man who loved her in spite of everything she was. “You certainly live up to your reputation.”
“Oh so you’ve been listening to all the gossip about me?” He snorted, earning a teasing elbow in the ribs for his trouble.
He properly laughed, now, wrapping his arms around her and pinning her arms jokingly to her sides— she could have gotten away if she’d wanted, but she didn’t, content to be wrapped up in her lovers arms.
“I had to make sure I gave you a reason not to fly off on me.” He teased gently, his lips moving back to her throat, and causing her to arch against him again, half eager to throw herself back into this new world they were just beginning to explore.
“I’m not going to fly off.” She dismissed thought, though realistically a time was sure to come when she would have to fly away and leave him behind.
“Yes, you are,” he said, because he knew her, and he knew her heart was much too big for her to abandon her cause for one person, as much as he selfishly wished she might. “But hopefully I gave you a reason to come back. Or at least a damn good first time.”
“You’re assuming it was my first time?” She asked, jokingly.
“You’re assuming it wasn’t mine?” He countered, making no move to pull away from her in his jest.
There was a moment’s pause, and Elphaba conceded, something Fiyero could already tell would be a rarity in their relationship.
“Yes, okay. Reputations are based in truth sometimes, I get it.” She had a smile on her face like he’d told a joke, but she didn’t laugh. She was so much quieter than the other girls he’d been with in every sense— but then he supposed that was the sort of survival skill imparted by the life she’d been living all this time.
He didn’t expect the next question, but perhaps he should have done; Elphaba never had been able to forgo her own curiosity.
“How was your first time?” She pressed, and he tried to think back to a political event he’d not wanted to attend, through a haze of champagne.
“I don’t remember much of it.” Fiyero admitted, unable to conjure much specific to mind, just some vague memories of drunken fumbling in a back room. “He was handsome, we were young, there was far too much alcohol…” He shrugged his shoulders; the specifics eluding him.
This time Elphaba did laugh, though her hand flew up to stifle the noise, almost out of instinct.
“Well this was certainly more romantic.” She decided, not seeming at all surprised at the story.
“Just a little.” Fiyero beamed. “Was that your first kiss?”
“No.”
“No?” Fiyero gasped so theatrically she had to laugh. “Oh now I have to know, who is it that I have to be jealous of the rest of my days?”
She snorted and smacked him lightly in the arm.
“Some boy at a party.” She waved it off, “I never even knew his name.”
Another mocking gasp followed.
“Hold on, you snogged some random boy at a party and you didn’t even ask his name? I thought I was supposed to be the slut in this relationship?”
“Don’t make fun of me.” She scolded lightly. “It wasn’t like that. Besides, it’s not like I was your first kiss.”
“Oh, no, that was some girl at a party. I don’t know her name.” He grinned, looking very pleased with himself. “But, not like you’re thinking. It was actually pretty sweet.”
Fiyero hadn’t run from the party. He had left, but he had been very careful not to run, so he had, technically, not broken his mother’s rule.
He’d likely be in trouble anyway, but that wasn’t a problem for now.
It wasn’t like he would even have to escape if the party wasn’t so damn boring! He’d been so excited at first when his parents had told him they were going to be travelling all the way to Munchkinland for a big party— but nobody had told him it was a birthday party for a baby! Well, she was five, but that was basically a baby! She was too little to play with, that was for sure, and it was full of little kids and boring adults all there for ‘political reasons’ (one of his least favourite excuses his parents gave for boring activities like this), and all the food had corn in it! Like he was stupid enough to still fall for adults hiding vegetables in his food.
He crept along the darkened corridor on the upper floor of the house, lamenting the fact Feldspur hadn’t been allowed to come (their train hadn’t had any compartments that could accommodate a Horse, which just seemed stupid to Fiyero) and wishing for a playmate, when he heard noises coming from behind one of the doors.
There was definitely someone humming softly inside one of the rooms. Pressing an ear to the door, it definitely sounded like another kid! Maybe a playmate closer to his own age?
Without thinking Fiyero went for the door handle, and the humming immediately stopped, replaced with a panicked gasp. The door opened a few inches, and then was yanked shut again on the other side.
“Father?” A little girl asked, clearly panicked on the other side of the room.
“The grown ups are all still downstairs— I didn’t think there was anyone else up here!” Fiyero called excitedly, trying the handle again, but it didn’t budge. “Hey, let me in—“
“I’m not supposed to let anyone in.”
Fiyero frowned a little at that, but just shrugged his shoulders. It was better than nothing.
“I can sit out here.” He offered, sinking down to the ground and crossing his legs, staring at the door and looking wandering at who was behind it. “Are you sick? Is that why you don’t have to go to the party?”
The fact there was another kid here who had gotten out of it had him a little miffed— though maybe there was some excuse? If this girl was sick then she wouldn’t want to get everyone at the party sick…
“I’m not sick.” Came the voice from behind the door.
There went that theory.
“So why didn’t you have to go?” Fiyero pouted.
“I wasn’t invited.” Said the girl, and her voice sounded a little closer to the door, now. He could imagine her sitting across from him.
He was rather glad she couldn’t see how much he was frowning at her explanation. Of why she wasn’t involved in the event downstairs. Why couldn’t she join in? Was she a servant’s child who had to be kept out of the way? That didn’t seem very fair.
“Why aren’t you invited?” He pressed her, shuffling a little closer to the door.
“Father was worried I’d be distracting.” The strange little girl eventually offered, sounding as though she’d thought very hard about her answer.
Honestly the idea of thinking that hard about just a few words was exhausting to Fiyero.
“Father?” He pulled a face at the formality, pulling his tie (which his mother had insisted was absolutely necessary) looser so he didn’t feel so stuffy and constrained. “Why don’t you just call him dad like normal?”
“He doesn’t like that.” The little girl frowned.
Fiyero wasn’t quite sure what to say to that.
“Well, it’s not a good party anyway.” He assured with unearned confidence. “There aren’t any good games and all the food had vegetables in it.”
“No it doesn’t.” She said, as though she thought he was stupid. “I was in the kitchens when they made it.”
Ah, so definitely a servant’s child, then. It still didn’t seem all that fair to lock her up here rather than letting her play with the rest of them. She was certainly more interesting than the babies downstairs— even if she was wrong about the food.
“It all has corn in it.” He protested, “I’m not stupid, I know corn is a vegetable!”
“It has corn flour in it.” The girl replied, a little snippily. “It’s different.”
“You can’t make flour out of vegetables.” He pointed out, glad to knock the know it all down a little.
“Can too! What do you make flour out of?” She asked, drawing her words out like he was stupid.
“I don’t know.” He muttered, reactively, and feeling a little as though he’d proved her right about his intellect, though when he actually thought about it he realised he actually did know the answer. “Barley.”
“Corn flour tastes better.” She decided from behind the door. “You should try it.”
“I’m not eating vegetable bread.” Fiyero protested, shaking his head, “And I want to play games that aren’t for babies.”
There was a very long pause from behind the door, and he was a little afraid that he’d scared her off. She didn’t say anything, but then a hand of cards was pushed through the crack under the door.
“No cheating.” The girl said. “I’ll know.”
He blinked at the sudden appearance of the cards, but slowly reached out to take them— it wasn’t the most thrilling game, but it was certainly more interesting than whatever was going on outside. The know it all behind the door was more interesting than the babies, at least.
Her sixth sense about him cheating proved to be correct, and Fiyero rather quickly grew fed up with her winning streak, continuing to slide cards back to her under the door, but trying to distract her as he did so.
“How do I know you’re not cheating?” He complained, looking down at yet another subpar hand.
“You don’t.” She replied from behind the door. “But I’m not.”
Fiyero scoffed, pushing a card back to her sulkily when she called for it.
“I think you are.” He protested. “You’re winning too much, it’s not fair.”
“It is fair!” She laughed behind the door, and despite his sulking Fiyero smiled too. She sounded happier than she did before.
“It’s not fun this way.” He pouted. “You just think it’s fun because someone locked you in.”
“I am not locked in.” The know it all girl behind the door replied more quietly.
Fiyero realised he should have asked her name— but it wasn’t as though she had asked his either! It had been too long now.
She didn’t ask him for any more cards, maybe the game was over. Looking down at his losing hand he found he didn’t much mind giving up the chance to be beaten at the game again.
“You’re not allowed to come out and play. That’s basically locked in.” Fiyero pointed out, tempted to reach back for the door handle, but not wanting to upset her and make her end their games entirely. “Why doesn’t your dad want you to come out and play anyway? I think you seem fun.”
“He doesn’t like me.”
Fiyero frowned deeper at that.
“I don’t like him.” He decided reflexively, because however snippy she cleverly she was he rather liked this girl. “Your father sounds like a right bastard.”
There came a proper round of laughter from behind the door, and the young prince was suddenly very glad of his jest. It could have backfired badly, but she seemed entertained, and maybe that was worth it— besides it wasn’t as though any grow ups had overheard! He wouldn’t even get into trouble if she didn’t rat him out!
“You can’t call him that!” She said, and her laugh was too loud and too harsh, more of a cackle than the usual giggling he was used to from girls his age. His grin only widened. She laughed like a witch, and it was so much better than the princess laughs he was used to.
“It’s what my mum calls my dad when she’s cross with him!” He insisted, as though he had been told on several occasions that it was not a kind of appropriate name to give to people.
He had a feeling this man deserved it.
“We could have a secret pact?” She boy suggested, lowering his voice as though he was drawing her into some serious espionage. “You don’t tell anyone that I called your dad that, and I don’t tell anyone that you opened the door and let me in.”
“But I didn’t let you inside!” She protested.
“Okay, so let me inside, and we can have a secret pact.” He grinned, that charmingly mischievous smile he was quickly learning let him get away with murder.
There was another long pause where the girl behind the door didn’t speak. Fiyero waited while she considered, but his patience didn’t last long, and soon he was shifting his weight from foot to foot trying not to panic so much. He didn’t want her to go away, and to be stuck with the babies all over again!
There was a quiet click, and he got a glimpse into a darkened room, with just enough smoke hanging in the air to show that a candle had just been snuffed out.
“Why is it dark?” He stepped inside, just about able to see the shadow of the strange girl in the dim light filtering through an angled window in the ceiling.
“I’m not allowed matches.” She said, and he couldn’t even tell if it was a real answer or a joke. She didn’t laugh, so maybe it was real? Either way they definitely wouldn’t be able to play cards in this light.
“You have a tower!” He announced excitedly looking up at the sloped ceiling of the room. It was a very low ceiling, too! She had to be shorter than he was!
“It’s an attic.” The strange girl clarified, and Fiyero just rolled his eyes.
“That’s just a square tower.” He decided, though it didn’t look all that much like the tower’s in his family’s castle. Maybe it was just a munchkin thing.
“No it isn’t.”
“Shh, yes it is.” He waved her off, “And that means you’re a princess, and I’m a prince, and it’s my job to rescue you.”
Squinting at her in the half-light, Fiyero could see the way she scrunched her nose up at the idea.
“You can’t rescue me.” She said, “My father will just get mad if I leave.”
Fiyero really didn’t like her dad.
“Okay— well then I rescue you from being bored. I break in and hang out with you and then you’re not on your own anymore!” He stepped forward and took her hand. She jerked it back as quickly as he’d touched her.
“I’m not a princess, either.” She reminded, edging away from him a little, towards the window, which had the shutters drawn tightly over it despite the lack of light in the room.
“Are you a witch then? You laugh like a witch.” Fiyero said, before realising that might sound cruel, and backtracking. “That’s a good thing, though. My sisters are princesses and they’re really annoying.”
The little girl hummed like she was considering something, and looked down at her hand in what little light there was.
“I think I’m a frog.” She decided.
It was so absurd Fiyero ended up laughing all over again. He hasn’t laughed as much as he was that night since he put the toads in his brother’s room.
“You don’t look much like a frog.” He said, because her silhouette looked human enough even if he couldn’t see much of her face. “Buuut if you were a frog, you should kiss a princess. When princesses kiss frogs they turn into people.”
“I don’t know any princesses.”
“My big sister is a princess, but she’s old.” Fiyero said, before suggesting, “Maybe you could kiss me?
The silence stretched on too long, and again Fiyero worried he might have upset her, and then her lips were pressed to hers, a quick, panicked peck on the lips from this frog who didn’t even seem to have webbed fingers.
“What—“
Before he could even question her she’d rushed to the window, pulling the curtain back a sliver and sticking her hand behind it to inspect it in the light.
“It didn’t work.” She announced, and despite the silliness of her game she sounded crestfallen.
“Maybe it has to be a princess?”
“Maybe.”
Fiyero took her hand and she didn’t flinch this time like she had before.
“I don’t see any webbed fingers, though.” He looked down at her hand in the half light, and opened his mouth to speak again, but he didn’t get the chance.
“Someone’s coming.” She said, her voice sounding far away.
“What—“
The girl’s hands were on the small of his back now, shoving him towards the door in a panic. He couldn’t hear footsteps, and didn’t understand what she could have heard he didn’t, but she was pushing him out into the hall.
“Someone’s coming— go, now.”
The door slammed behind him, and a moment later Fiyero’s mother was rounding the corner.
“Fiyero Tigelaar what on earth are you doing?”
Oh he was definitely in trouble now.
“Nothing.” He replied almost on instinct, as his mother caught his wrist and began to tow him back towards the stairs.
“I only want to speak to the governor for a minute, I told you not to wander off—“
“I didn’t wander off!” Fiyero defended himself quickly, “I was playing—“ he was playing with the only girl his age in the house. The one who was locked in her room and not allowed to let alone in. The one who’s transgression in speaking with him he’d promised to keep secret. “I was exploring. I’ve never been to Munchkinland before.”
“Look, I’m glad you’re interested,” she said, tiredly, “But you can’t just run off without asking, okay? Come back to the party, and when we get home I’ll ask Dr Mitchels to draw up some lessons on Munchkinland for you so you can learn about it?”
Fiyero pulled a fact at the idea of extra lessons, but he didn’t confess, looking back towards the door. Keeping a promise to a witch was probably clever.
“Mum?” He pressed, glancing back over his shoulder towards the door, “Are there any more big kids here?”
“I think the governor has a daughter about your age,” she said, pulling him along and not looking where he was staring. “But she’s not been well, so don’t you bother her.”
“Do you think I could meet her next time?”
“Yes, darling. I’m sure you’ll meet her one day.” She said, trying to placate him a little to stop his questioning.
Fiyero lingered a moment at the end of the corridor, looking back at the locked door.
One day.