Chapter Text
The ballroom is suffocating and loud, filled with the elite of the Emerald City. Fiyero barely looked at the invitation, not even caring what the event was celebrating. He had arrived late, but he was here, in his best dress, the tight collar of his jacket nearly choking him.
Immediately upon entering, he notices a small table holding several flutes of champagne. Without thinking twice, Fiyero picks up two flutes, barely tasting the liquid as he throws them back as fast as he can. The champagne helps, smoothing the tension in his body, allowing the room’s energy to flow much more peacefully around him, barely.
Morrible stands at the head of the ballroom, surveying everyone. Fiyero feels her eyes land on him multiple times, making his neck prickle uncomfortable.
He is painfully aware of his precarious status in the eyes of Madam Morrible and the Wizard.
They don’t trust him.
It’s obvious. And it doesn’t help that the Vinkus had yet to release any official stance regarding the hunt for “the Wicked Witch” and the new rollout of Animal bans.
He thinks about his future. About Elphaba and Glinda. About his family and people. He came here tonight for a reason. He thinks and he thinks and he thinks and the alcohol is starting to make his head spin.
Last night, through sobs, Glinda had finally told him what happened that fateful day. About how Elphaba read from the Grimmerie and cast that spell on the Monkeys, and how after the Wizard wouldn’t help the Animals, she accused the Wizard of having no power and took the spellbook with her.
It was nothing like the version Morrible had given him when he first arrived in Emerald City from Shiz.
“What are we going to do?!”
“What do you mean?”
“What do I mean? I mean about those lies everyone is saying about her! That Morrible spread! That Elphaba’s evil and that she’s- she’s wicked! And you know that’s not true!”
“What can we do? She left, Fiyero! She chose her path!”
“Choose to be seen as wicked? Why didn’t you go with her?!”
At that, Glinda had looked down, shaking her head helplessly and cried. And Fiyero knows why, shouldn’t have even asked, because just that day, she had made her first debut as Glinda the Good, Madam Morrible’s newest apprentice in magic.
After that, Fiyero had locked himself in Glinda’s bathroom and slept on the floor, unable to stand being around her for another moment.
The thing was… the truth changed everything and nothing. Fiyero had known the lies weren’t true from the start. And Elphaba was still gone and he still needed to find her.
The conclusion was bleak.
He needs to secure favor in the Emerald City, quickly. And there’s really only one way to do that.
It takes less than a clock tick to find her. She's a dazzling beacon in the center of the room, nearly swallowed by the layers of shimmery pink fabrics that make up her elaborate ballgown.
When he approaches her, Glinda greets him with a practiced tinkling laugh and Fiyero can almost see it reach her eyes.
He, unlike everyone else, knows exactly where to look. The smallest corners of her eyes, where makeup couldn't quite reach, were still red and swollen.
Fiyero bends, taking Glinda’s hand in his and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. A gentleman.
The onlookers gasp and whisper, and he goes further, putting his hands on her waist and lifting her into a spin. Her exquisite skirts float outward. It’s obnoxiously perfect.
After he gently sets her down, Glinda smiles up at him, faintly, but he can see her mind racing, deciphering the reason behind his mood change. He smiles back at her, then at the growing crowd, charming, all teeth. The sparkling bright lights of the ballroom are starting to blur, the champagne racing through his system.
Across the room, Morrible is watching them. Fiyero knows Glinda can feel it too.
Mouth moving before his brain, he launches into a story about the two of them, how they met at Shiz University and danced together that same night. He tweaks the details, careful not to mention the “scandalocious” Ozdust or any other people in the story. Elphaba aside, he would hate to involve Boq or Nessa in his fabrication. The lies spill off his tongue easily, embellishments and adjustments falling in place smoothly. He regales their captive audience about how he and Glinda fell in love during their first conversation and how later that night, they slipped away to the gardens on campus and shared a private dance under the moonlight.
At the end of a story, the growing crowd around them coos and gushes, eyes teary.
They love it. They love them.
A flurry of photographers approach, and before Fiyero can say a word, they start snapping pictures.
Chatter swirls around the ballroom and he and Glinda are in the center of it all.
That night they lay in bed together. Next to him, Glinda’s crying again, quietly, but unmistakable.
All Fiyero can think about was the sneer the Captain of the Guard gave him when he asked about the strategy about capturing the Wicked Witch and if he could help provide assistance. He had even leveraged his title, hoping for even a snippet of information he could use.
“You think you can get whatever you want? That might have worked back in Winkie Country, but it’s different around here. Why would I trust you with that information?”
If he had clearance. If he had access. If he has real authority, even under Morrible’s thumb, maybe he can still do something, for the Animals, for his people, for Elphaba.
"I need to be promoted,” he says to Glinda, through gritted teeth. He’s still shaking. “I need higher access if I'm going to stay here.”
with you, is unspoken.
She doesn't respond and just sniffles louder.
He closes his eyes.