Chapter 2
Fiyero Tigulaar woke up before the sunrise, as he had for the last week. While his mother was recovering from what could only be described as a traumatic labor, the Vinkun Queen opted spend some time in the Emerald City instead of making the journey home so quickly. The King had stayed the first week and had wanted to stay longer. Unfortunately, ruling a kingdom of disparate tribes allowed for less time off for familial matters than most people. Fiyero saw his father off to the Vinkus on a late-night train, assuring his father that he would be there for his mother and newborn sister until they were healthy enough to travel.
All of this is what lead to the early morning starts, as the newborn princess of the Vinkus had an overwhelming habit of crying right before the break of dawn. The first few nights, they had assumed she was hungry or needed to be changed. By the fourth night, it became apparent that she only wanted someone to hold and calm her when she woke. The servants of the Emerald Palace where a rather confused at the idea that the Vinkun royals would only ask for help, when necessary, as most prominent visitors with small children left them almost entirely in the care of staff. The idea of a stranger, an outsider caring for one's child was a novel concept in the Vinkus, and left the Queen uneasy. So, while his mother still had to wake up when she needed feeding, Fiyero had taken on the small burden of cradling his young sister, if only to give his mother another hour or two of sleep.
"Hey, hey," he cooed in Vinkun. "It's okay, you're safe, I'm here."
Slightly bouncing her in his arms as he spoke, all while gently shushing her, seemed to do the trick. The baby settled into quiet, and Fiyero made his way to the chair in the corner of the room. If he put his sister down, she would only begin to cry again. It meant that for the better part of the next two hours, he would likely be stuck where he was, not that he minded much.
"My sweet Ilinora," he whispered to the girl, still in their native tongue. "I used to pray for a sister. You're a little late of course. I'm already all grown up. We won't be able to play together as children or take lessons together. But I can spoil you rotten, and make sure you are always safe from harm."
The soothing rhythm of his heart and the gentleness of his words seemed to calm the young princess sleeping once more. It was then that Fiyero noticed a splash of green on her hand that had not been there in the days prior. It had replaced a bruise that had stretched from the bottom of her thumb to her wrist. A product of the rough birthing process, the midwife had said. Now though, instead of healing into a yellowish shade, then fading into nothing, it shaped itself into an emerald color, swirls like a tiny stem defining themselves where a blob of purple once laid. Fiyero knew exactly what it was, but seeing it was confirmation of something he and his family could have only assumed in the last few days.
The mark of a witch had been left on his sister.
--
The witch's Den had been in full swing the week before. A tavern laying in the middle of a Vinkun neighborhood, it was the center of much celebration for the birth of a new royal. While the good spirits were appreciated, the scent of sweetened fermented wheat, sweat and other bodily fluids, and vomit were less so. Especially when just two floors above, one of the most promising witchlings in all of Oz was recovering from a spell that nearly tore her to shreds, magically speaking.
The Witch of the West, Oziandra Rainary Ko, known simply as Rain by most who knew her, had overseen the young witch's recovery. When Elphaba had finally woken up on the third day back, she attributed it to the unyielding music. That of course, had been nothing in comparison to the earful she had gotten from Rain, who had to deal with complaints from the witch of the East of suspicions of unauthorized magic, and Glinda of the North had giving her a stern talking to, though they could not prove that Rain or Elphaba had anything to do with the incident on the train.
"So are you really going to that fancy school come the end of summer," Myranda asked.
Elphaba looked up from the table she was scrubbing. Her eyes meet Myranda's bright blue ones, which complimented the striking purple markings that ran across her face. A vibrant Witch's Mark. There were two ways to end up with such a marking. The first, and more common way, was to have had a strong spell cast of you by a witch. The second and much less common way was to be born a witch, the marks being a physical manifestation of the magic running through the born-magic wielder. In the second case, the larger the markings, the stronger the witch.
Many children born in Munchkinland, Quadling Country, or the Gillikin often ended up leaving children born with such marks in orphanages. Witches were a controversial political topic in Oz, and while the Western parts of Oz tended to be kinder to those born with magic, the east was less forgiving.
"I don't know," Elphaba shrugged. "Rain thinks it's a good idea. She thinks it'll help me see more of Oz, the real Oz. Not just the colored version I have from traversing it as a child."
"I think that's a load of horseshit," Lvara, the bartender and only non-magical resident of the Den made her opinion well known.
Elphaba couldn't help but laugh.
"You say that about everything Rain says. Truly it makes me wonder why you've even here," Myranda said as she mopped the floor.
"The pay's good, housing free, I get at least one warm meal a day-"
"-And she gets free drinks," Elphaba interrupted.
"Truly, I couldn't ask for a better job," Lvara said with a mix of sarcasm and sincerity that had Myranda furrowing her brows at the woman.
Before Lvara could respond to Myranda's funny look, the door flung open. The wood banged against the wall, causing the floor to vibrate. The tables and chairs followed in suit.
"Eli… you… need to come…right now!"
The young boy, was completely out of breath, heaving out of dry lungs. Lvara quickly brought him a cup of water, worried he would injure his throat if he continued to speak. He wore yellow stars on his face, a temporary stain common in the Vinkus, though the design varied from tribe to tribe. In this case, the yellow stars denoted Scrow heritage. It wasn't common wear for most Vinkuns now at days, reserved life events and celebrations.
"What's wrong, Ensi?"
Elphaba new this particular boy. He and his friends were troublemakers, and more than once, she had treated Ensi or any one of his little gang at the free clinic she spent most of her free time at. She had volunteered her time there as soon as Rain had taught her healing spells. So often the Witch of the West brought up the idea of making Elphaba her successor, it seemed only fair that she actually serve those of the Vinkus in some capacity.
"There was a man, and the ball went out into the street, and I didn't see the carriage. I wouldn't have, I didn't mean-"
"It's okay Ensi, just breathe," Elphaba interrupted the boys panicked state.
The boy took a deep breath, his body rattling as he inhaled.
"What do you need?"
"You need to come to the Clinic right now. He's really hurt and it's my fault."
—-
Holding tight to the sweat-covered palm, Elphaba was dragged through the ever-bustling streets to the clinic. It was by no means comfortable, the way her body arched over as Ensi pulled. It took a good amount of focus not to fall over completely, especially given that her body was still weak from whatever cursed energy had lashed out at her two weeks prior.
When they finally made their way to the run-down clinic, Ensi dragged her through the door, causing her to stumble over the door stopper. Even still he dragged her passed the ill-looking and injured people, then the front desk. The woman there, who recognized Elphaba, tried to wave but was unable to given how quickly her and the boy disappeared into the back.
The two stopped in a manufactured hallway, made by cubicles of wood that separated patients, offering small amounts of privacy, though not nearly enough. It was easy to hear doctors, nurses, and others here to help the wounded. Talks of injuries, diagnosis, of unintended accidents involving human waste, slight groans at cleaning bloodied sheets whether they be from births or injuries. All the chattering could be overwhelming, and Elphaba had to remind herself to shut it all out.
"Alfio!" Ensi yelled. "Alfio, I have Eli with me!"
At first, Elphaba assumed Ensi's voice was lost in the chatter of it all. A few seconds later a shout rose above the noise.
"Ensi, I'm back here!"
Then they were moving once more. Pulled down the hall, then to the left, followed by a sharp right. There they stopped for a moment before a young man with the ochre-skinned tell of a Vikun from deep with the country poking his head out of one of the cubicles. As soon as Ensi saw him, Alfio, Elphaba assumed, he bolted, taking her with him once again. At this point, she was getting used to tripping over her feet.
"I was worried you lost yourself between the street and the clinic," Alfio said.
"I know my way!" Ensi huffed, his young age showing.
Ensi opened his mouth to say something more, only for his eyes to fall on the man lying against the table. Ensi ran towards the man, worry spread across his face.
"I'm so sorry," he cried out.
The man's head lulled to the side, looking at the young boy. He opened his mouth to speak, but the sharp breath he took moved something broken in his chest, causing his face to warp with pain as a groan left his lips.
"What happened?" Elphaba asked.
Alfio rubbed the spot just above his left eye, sweat gleaming against his skin.
"Ensi and his friends were playing near the road, there ball went into the street and Ensi went to get it. He somehow didn't notice the carriage coming through. This guy came out of nowhere and shielded Ensi. You can assume the rest."
"You can help him, right Eli?" Ensi cried. He looked back at the man, whose hadn't so much as moved, his blue eyes following the boy. "She's a real good healer. I promise."
Now Elphaba was the one who was rubbing her eyes, dragging her hand down her face. This was the last thing she needed right now. Having barely gotten back on her feet after the train incident, the idea of using any strong magic seemed exceutiating.
"I can't heal him Ensi," she sighed. "Not outright anyways."
The man's gaze shifted to Elphaba. They seemed to widen slightly at the sight of her. It seemed like he recognized her, somehow. Beyond the look of recognition, he seemed far to calm for his corcumstances. Ensi, on the other hand looked like he was about to break out in sobs.
"Yes, you can!" Ensi shouted. "Three weeks ago, you healed my arm, and Tywihn's ribs after we fell of the fell of that wall."
Ensi!" Alfio yelled.
Elphaba let out a sigh. She was going to have to get creative. Certainly, she'd have to use the actual physical crafting part of magic.
"I'll see what I can do."
Ensi rushed Elphaba, enveloping her in a hug that had her loose her balance and fall to the ground. Looking up at the man, she saw his eyes once again on her and the boy.
Even through all his pain, he smiled.
—-
Two hours later, sitting on a unbalanced three foot stool, she sat in the back room. It had taken the better part of the first hour to find proper herbs and medicines. It didn't help that the Vinkun clinic had been in dire need of a resupply of just about everything for just about as long as Elphaba could remember.
Now she was seeping bandages in the home-made salve. It had the consistency of wet glue, ant the tackiness left on her hands irritated Elphaba to no end. Stop lit was the best she could work with at the moment.
"fractosque reducite simul;
lenire cutem quae urit;
contritos simul adducere
dum rotam volvitur."
The swirls across her body began to glow their familiar emerald color. It wasn't nearly as much magic as straight healing the man might cost, but as she said the spell Elphaba found herself more lightheaded than she might like to admit. She would likely crash from exhaustion as soon as she made it back to the Witch's Den. Her only saving grace was that rain gave her permission to use her magic in the clinic, meaning she wasn't breaking any rules this time. She watched as the bowl glowed a bright green, which then faded to a cool blue, before settling back to the white paste color entirely, except for green vines against the bandages, ruminates of her magic running through them.
That alone showed how much magic Elphaba had put into the spell. If she had cast anything directly on the man, it would have left a witch's scar on him for life, given the extent of his injuries. He would've healed faster, instead of the hours this method was going to take, even after the initial treatment. It was probably for the better in the long run though. Even if the West didn't hate witches, walking around with a witch's mark outside the territories that found such magic acceptable was a dangerous game.
Standing up, Elphaba made her way to the sink, pointlessly washing off the salve on her hands. In a few minutes it would be all over her again as she applied it to the unknown man. She craved the moment of cleanliness though, of everything being washed away. It may have even been a moment of calm if it weren't for the bottle of poppy milk on the shelf above her. A very strong pain killer, and often addictive drug. It was her mother's favored poison and she desperately tried to avoid being near it at all costs. Now though, it seemed a helpful tool. She could only imagine how much pain that man was in, and if the poppy milk could help him sleep through the healing process, who was she to deny him. Sighing, she grabbed the bottle, pocketing it along with a pair of scissors and the bowl of salve covered bandages.
The endless sound and chatter assaulted Elphaba's ears as she made her way back to the small cubicle. Alfio and Ensi were still present, though they could do very little. One of them had helped shift the man so that he sat slightly more upright, and a pillow now supported the back of his knees. Elphaba grabbed the stool that sat against the wall, sitting it against the table and cot the injured man laid on. She pulled out the pair of scissors first and watched as the man's eyes flickered to them.
"I have to cut off your shirt," she explained. "Well, I don't have to, but I think it's preferable to trying to get you out of it."
A small nod was the only response the man seemed capable of giving. Either way, he didn't fight as Elphaba cut the tight knit cashmere shirt. It was soft, high quality, and clearly very expensive. It made it unlikely this stranger was just a new Vinkun migrant. Though, it did beg the question of what he was doing in the district anyways? No one seemed to want to be here if they didn't live or work in the area. It was considered low-class, dangerous even. While the line of thought was preposterous, at least in Elphaba's opinion, it was still common. Common enough that someone rich enough to own a shirt like this, with such an expensive fabric and dyed in such a rare blue, would avoid the neighborhood entirely.
It took a bit more cutting, but she finally managed to cut the fabric completely off him. The bruising went as far down as his mid torso but seemed to miss his lower half and legs. Elphaba let out a sigh of relief at the thought, happy she wouldn't have to take off the man's pants.
She placed the first bandage against his skin. The man attempt to recoil, though the pain caused him to still. Then the bandage glowed, a opal sheen taking over it as she laid another just above the first one. She had begun at the bottom of his ribs, where the wounds ceased, making her way towards his face. If he hadn't been so awake, with a clear understanding of all that was going on around him, Elphaba may have started at his head. His brains seemed firmly intact, at least enough so that the difference in minutes wouldn't much matter.
The man's eyes drew down to the bandages, then back up at Elphaba. Admittedly, they were quite expressive, so much so that it almost felt like she could hear the very questions he was asking. More so, she could see how his eyes closed with each brush of his skin, the tensing of his face as it pulled in. She could see the pain he was in and understood the distraction he was desperate for.
"Witchcraft," she explained. "The general rule is the more craft involved the less raw magic is needed for a spell. Usually I wouldn't even bother, but I suffered an incident rather recently. It's left me a bit worse for wear."
She wrapped a bandage around his shoulder, bringing it beneath his arm, then back around, covering the bruises on his bicep. She felt the sturdiness of it, all muscle underneath. When she froze for a second the man smiled, as if reading her mind.
"Don't," Elphaba responded to his look. "Or I won't hesitate to leave your face all battered."
An involuntary wisp of a laugh left the man. Then he noticed, while it still hurt like nothing he could describe, it wasn't so painful that he immediately tensed. Whatever the bandages were supposed to do, they were doing it. It was a comforting thought, considering how cold they felt against his skin. Truly they were like ice, and when Elphaba put the first bandage on his face, he found himself letting out a hiss of pain at the chill.
"Sorry."
Elphaba's eyes turned away from his own as she finished applying the salve soaked bandages. It took less time than she had expected. Likely, because the man in front of her had been so calm while she worked. Usually, she was used to dealing with children who squirmed constantly, even when she was quickly healing what amount to surface wounds.
Rooting through her pocket, she found the vial of poppy milk she had taken. Looking at the hazy liquid inside the deep red bottle unsettled her. Though, she reminded herself that this was not about her. It was about the man in front of her who was clearly in a great amount of pain.
"Here," she popped open the bottle, lifting it to the man's lips. "It'll help with the pain. If you're lucky it'll help you sleep through the whole healing process."
He lifted his left, uninjured hand, pushing the bottle away. With shaking lips and a ragged breath, he whispered two words.
"My…mother…"
He couldn't seem to finish the sentence, not easily anyways. The salve could only work so fast, and the fact that he was saying anything at all spoke more to his will to speak through the pain.
"She's in the city?"
Giving a brief nod, he laid his head against the back of the cot, which only left him lie down so much given the current lounge chair positioning. He took several deep breaths, building up as much strength as possible to continue speaking.
"Emerald…Palace."
Elphaba's eyes widened at the words. There were no guests at the emerald palace currently, except for one family. And that family only had one son.
"Ensi!"
the boy was sitting in the corner having fallen asleep during the long process of healing that he wasn't used to, at least not from Elphaba anyways. At her loud words he shot up, eyes foggy as he stared at young witch.
"Is something wrong Eli?" He asked, sorry and alarm settled deep in his voice.
"Go back to the Den and tell Rain where I am and what has happened. Then tell her to tell her that it would be in everyone's best interest to pass the message along to her highest rank constituent in the city."
The boy's eyebrows knit together in confusion at what she was saying and why he would need to tell Witch Rain. Surely the woman was busy with her Witchly duties? Bothering her with his stupid mistake couldn't lead to anything good. And highest constituent, what did that mean? Did she mean to punish him.
"I can do that," Ensi said.
Worried he might make the situation worse for himself if he tried to pick her words apart, the boy began to walk out of the cubicle. His feet stopped as he heard his name once more.
"And Ensi," Elphaba said, not quite telling but louder than normal. "Use those exact words, understand me?"
"Yes, Eli!"
He said it so strictly, with a stoicism that belong to a soldier. Then Ensi was off, making his way once again to the little tower. With that dealt with Elphaba looked once again at the man, who hand came out ounce again, this time taking her own. His thumb caressed the space between her forefinger and thumb. A sign of affection, of gratitude. It had Elphaba feeling uncomfortable. Instead of dealing with it, she pulled her hand away, bringing the bottle of poppy milk back to his lips.
"Drink," she said. "There is no need for you to suffer as you heal."
This time, the man accepted without hesitation.
Rain walked slowly to the Clinic. She always seemed to do everything slowly, at least from Ensi's view. Maybe it was just that she seemed so beyond them all and their tiny lives. The stories he had heard, the rumors of her past, her far-flung adventures. It put the stories of some of the greatest Vinkun warriors to shame. Unlike the rest of the Cardinal Witches, she had no thought to hide her actual age from the world, and so she always seemed to be the wisest, at least to the children who learned of her in schools.
When she finally made it, a silence fell over those waiting to be seen and the desk receptionist. Rain was always used to such a response. In her earlier years, it had been due to the odd hue of her skin. People had yet to be less critical of the "Wicked Witch of the West" story, as it had been sold by the Wizard. It made having the same green skin as said witch complicated at beast, and downright dangerous at worst. Now it was out of an air of respect and awe, though Rain found it hard to tell the difference.
"She's back here!" Ensi said, heading down the hall.
Rain followed the boy till she made her way to the enclave where Elphaba sat. Both her and the injured man had found sleep overtaking them. A glance at the poppy milk bottle on the table made it clear only Elphaba had found such a state in the natural sense. It had Rain lifting her eyebrows in surprise. Elphaba despised the addictive drug, and it seemed farfetched that she would go near the stuff, even for another's benefit.
She went up her ward. Elphaba was slumped in the uncomfortable wooden chair. Her neck stretched back, her head leaning against the wall. Her skirt riled up ever so slightly, revealing even more of the green pattern on her right leg, growing further upwards upon her skin. Pale skin, rain noted. It almost had a greyish hue to it, a clear sign of over extension of magic. The elder witch reached up, pushing a strand of ear behind Elphaba's ear, not surprised when she found the small trail of blood leaking from within it.
Even with the extra craft used to cushion the amount of magic any healing spell might take; her magic was still raw and wounded. Rain had done what she could to 'stitch' up the tears, so to speak, but healing still took time. Then the stupid girl had to go and rip her wounds open all over again.
Rain tapped the girl, waiting as she slowly opened her eyes and gained some awareness of her surroundings. Elphaba rubbed her neck, sore from the previous position. As soon as her eyes caught Rain's own dark brown ones, her face morphed from a tired expression to a slightly pained one. Elphaba was under no misunderstanding of the talking she was about to get.
"Is it your intent to get yourself killed?" Rain asked, rhetorically of course, and so Elphaba did not bother to answer as she let the old woman continue. "I told you into to use any magic for a month, that your mind and body was still weak from the…incident. Then you come here of all places, cast a spell that would very well kill a weaker witch, and I find out about it through a messenger boy!"
The whisper yelling felt odd to Elphaba, who was used to being ushered into Rain's office before whatever fierce talking to came her way. The green witch was trying to be considerate of the man, of the other patients, but her frustration at Elphaba had one out against waiting to lecture Elphaba till they returned to the Witch's Den.
"I'm pretty sure he's the prince of the Arijkians," Elphaba deflected.
Rain sighed as she turned around to look at the man. Earlier in the day, she had indeed received a message from the queen of the western country that her son had gone missing. According to some guard he had gone out to the city to find a Vinkun sweet his mother had been craving. The guard had lost him somewhere in the Quadling district. Rain had promised to look into it, and it was not an hour later that Ensi came running into her office, shaking like a leaf in a storm. As soon as he relayed Elphaba's message, Rain was almost certain the prince and this mysteriously injured stranger were one and the same. Fiyero was always getting himself in trouble, as noble and kind as he was. Looking at the uncovered part of his face, it was clear Elphaba and she had come to the right conclusion.
"Go home Elphaba. You need rest. A medicinal bath wouldn't hurt either, considering the bleeds have already set in."
Elphaba touched the side of her ear, feeling the wet blood. Internally she cursed, not having thought she had reached that far into what had been left of her magic.
"And him?"
With the tilt of her chin, Elphaba brought the focus back to the man on the cot.
"I'll have to bring him back to the Den to keep a better eye on his healing." Rain sighed, not excited to deal with the mess before her. "I'll send for his mother once he's settled."
Elphaba nodded, not bothering to ask how Rain intended to bring him back to their tiny tavern, though she supposed he could stay in the few rooms they rented out to travelers on the second floor. Rain certainly couldn't carry him though, and would need either Gale Force assistance or a spell of some kind, but that wasn't really Elphaba's concern. She had done her part, and so she stood up on slightly shaking legs and made her way out of the clinic.