Chapter 18
It wasn’t till late that night that Elphaba returned to the dorms, covered in brambles, leaves, and twigs. Glinda had invited Nessa over to study for their arithmetic final, and they both watched as she walked into the room, looking like some feral forest creature.
“Elphie, I was so worried!” Glinda said. “I went and told Lox, and he said if you didn’t want to be found he couldn’t find you.”
“He’s not wrong,” Elphaba replied. “Tip was the only one who was ever able to figure out where I was hiding, and I see him less and less with each passing year.”
Tip had been a name Elphaba mentioned in passing, but never long enough to elaborate on who he was or what their connection was. Glinda asked Lox about it, but he was just as tight lipped. Why Elphaba had to keep her past so vague, Glinda did not understand.
“You mention Tip a lot,” Glinda asked. “Who is he?”
Elphaba looked up, and it was clear she was rather unamused with the concept of the question. Though, in her defense, it wasn’t exactly an easy answer. A circus boy turned Queen of Oz. How in Lurline name was she supposed to explain that?
“An old friend,” Elphaba answered vaguely. “My first friend.”
She may have said the first person to truly care about her. Nessa was there though, and that seemed like a disservice. Nessa loved Elphaba in her own way, though at the time she lacked understanding. That her love was never greater than the shadow she cast over Elphaba.
“Fiyero was out looking for you,” Nessa informed her. “He came inside a tick ago to see if you came back, but I don’t know where he went.”
Elphaba took a deep breath, trying to keep her mind steady. A lingering pain still ran up her arm and through her chest. It was dull and sporadic, but still present since the incident. She had come to the conclusion that stress played a rather big role in when the pain worsened, and any time Fiyero came up was stressful beyond note.
“I’m going to shower,” Elphaba announced, disappearing into the bathroom.
“I don’t get why Fiyero runs in circles for her,” Nessa sighed. “It’s confusifying.”
Glinda thought back to that day in class. She had never seen something so cold as when Elphaba was on her hands and knees, spitting out blood and bile. How pale and drained she had been. Even if she Elphaba wasn’t gorgeous or smart, or breathtaking in anyway one could be, Glinda understood why Fiyero fought so hard to even exist in her orbit.
“She’s complicated, and he understands that,” Glinda offered, then let the subject die.
Nessa was still there when Elphaba finished showering. She watched as the girl slipped between her bathrobe and pajamas without so much as an inch of unwanted skin showing. Why she knew such a skill was beyond Nessa, but she would admit it impressed her ever so slightly.
The less clad pajamas revealed her witch’s mark. It swarmed her whole body, tendrils of swirling green imprinted into her skin. The same green Nessa’s own sister had been. She knew the bigger than mark, the more naturally powerful the witch in question was, or if it was the result of a spell, how magic intensive as it was. Suddenly, Nessa felt a bit rotten, knowing how cruel someone could be to someone so visible different, especially if they were raised under the roof of the Unnamed God. She saw first-hand what children with such luck went through.
“Was it always like that?” Nessa found herself asking. “So big, I mean. I’ve never seen a mark stretch from foot to neck.”
Elphaba looked up, an unreadable expression on her face. Nessa flinched slightly, as if expected to be yelled at. The witch’s eyes soften at this. Letting out a breath, she let all her annoyance go with it.
“No,” she said truthfully. “It used to be much bigger. I guess you could say I grew into it.”
It wasn’t a total lie. It did used to be bigger. Her whole skin in fact. Of course, she wasn’t going to explain that to Nessa or Glinda. She had no desire to cross that particular bridge, and in fact, would much rather watch it burn.
“My father says witches are cursed. He used to say my sister was cursed. I don’t agree with him but… it’s not my place.”
“While I admire your restraint, you’ve already my attention. I think you ought to finish your thoughts,” Elphaba implored.
With an uneasy look, Nessa continued.
“I imagine someone who thought very much like him hurt you very badly. I think you don’t know how to imagine anyone would like you, so you treat anyone who shows the barest interest in you like they are a threat. I think you’re doing it to Fiyero, and I think it hurts him greatly.”
“I think you might find your calling is a psychology class,” Elphaba responded with a joke, because otherwise she would’ve hit back at Nessa with a far too cruel jab.
Nessa was about to reply when a sound came from the door. Three knocks, each as loud as the one before .
“It’s open,” Glinda said, her voice far too saccharine for the mood of the room.
On the other side of course, was Fiyero. He peeked in to see Elphaba on the bed, and the tenseness of his posture and face immediately fell. She had a few scratches from branches and leaves across her forearms and legs, and a thin red streak on her neck, opposite the side of her mark. Overall, though she seemed fine for someone who had, as far as anyone knew, been out in the cold all day.
“I was just…” he fumbled over his words, not sure exactly what to say. “It’s good to know you are safe and inside. It gets far too cold at night.”
“I’m used to the cold,” Elphaba replied, the first words she had said to him in weeks. “But thank you for the concern. I appreciate it.”
He stayed standing at the door for a moment, as if waiting for something else, before nodding and closing the dorm room. Elphaba’s eyes stayed at looking at the door, and that feeling of guilt, at her misplaced cruelty crept upon her.
“Is that it?” Glinda said, as if she was appalled. “He waited for a single word from you for weeks and that’s all you have to give him?”
“And what am supposed to say?”
“That you care about him too,” Nessa abruptly answered. “All he wants to know is that you don’t hate him for whatever happened, though none of you will seem to speak of it.”
Was it really that easy? No, it never was. Because that meant letting down her walls, and letting him through her defenses. Glinda had managed to squirm through, but it was different. She wanted companionship, a friend and confidant, but she didn’t ask for the same vulnerability. That was easier when one had a tendency to talk about one’s self more than anyone or anything else. Though Elphaba, for all her fighting didn’t mind it. She didn’t have to think as hard to weave around the lie that was her life.
Fiyero wasn’t satisfied with that. He wanted to know her, to soothe the pain he saw in her. That was just the person he was, there was no getting around it. That fear of rejection, of pain radiating through her time and time again, the thought paralyzed her. It made it so much easier to keep Fiyero at arm’s length. It also made her miserable, and it made him miserable. It was a miserable she was familiar with, the one she had chosen as her bedfellow.
And it was an utterly horrendous or choice, one she wasn’t going to make again.
—
“Fiyero,” she called out, chasing him down the hall. “Fiyero!”
He turned around just as she reached him. She was still in her sleepwear which consisted of an oversized long-sleeved shirt and a pair of shorts that could barely be classified as such. On her feet were socks, and nothing else, not even a pair of shoes.
“Can we talk?”
Fiyero took in a breath, feeling unsteady at the words. Did she really mean it? And did she have to ask while wearing clothes that had his blood roaring. When he didn’t respond immediately her face fell. Shaking his thoughts clear, he pulled himself together. In a swift motion, he shrugged off his wool coat, draping it over her shoulders.
“I’m not cold,” she assured him.
“I didn’t imply that you were,” he replied, a cheekiness in his voice. “Come on, we can talk in my room.”
The walk was agonizingly quiet, but the smell of earth lingered on Fiyero’s jacket, an odd comfort to Elphaba. She followed him into the room before resting it on the back of his chair. Fiyero found himself averting his eyes, not wanting to lose his mind before they actually got a chance to speak.
“I’m sorry.”
Those were the first words out of her mouth. No prompting, no hesitation. All the guilt weighed on her like chains and she had to get it out before she found herself running away from it once more.
“I didn’t think it would hurt you so much. I’m not good at letting people get close to me. Especially not so quickly. It took you a mere few weeks to tear down a wall most people have to chip away at for years. It scared me, even if I wouldn’t acknowledge it to myself. So, when I saw the first risk of rejection, I used it as an excuse to push you away. It’s easier that way. It always has been.”
Fiyero swallowed the lump forming in his throat. He hadn’t expected any of this. This kind of confession, this rawness. It was all there though, laid out in front of him, an unsavory platter of trauma and maladaptive coping. He had no words to say, couldn’t think of any words that could do as a response. He closed the gap between them instead. Wrapping his arms around Elphaba, pulling her tight against his chest. She tensed for a moment, then melted into him.
“You can push me away all you’d like, I’m not going anywhere.” Fiyero whispered, his face hovering right above her head, nose just grazing her red curls. “If that’s alright with you.”
Elphaba took steady breaths, replaying notes of music in her head to calm herself. Anything to stop her from running away and screwing everything up all over again. She wanted this to work, to be able to open herself up, but everything was so uncertain, and she needed assurance. That her secrets would stay kept and her past where it belonged.
“I think… I think it’s best if we set some ground rules. It’s probably not what you wanted to hear-”
Fiyero’s thumb covered her lip, quieting her.
“That’s not uncommon in the Vinkus, actually. Arranged marriages tend to take a lot more negotiations before either partner finds themselves to be agreeable.”
Elphaba knew about arranged marriages in the Vinkun, that boundaries between people tended to be more respected. Parents married off their children often, but it wasn’t an imbalance of gender, only age and status. Partners were expected to know each other for years before ever living together, usually due to child marriages. Elphaba hadn’t thought of the fact that they might spend that time negotiation boundaries and compromises.
“I have a complicated relationship with my past, and my family. Somethings I don’t like to talk about and others I can’t, and I need you to respect that. I’m not an easy person to be with and you won’t always get to know the reasons.“
“Okay,” Fiyero agreed. “As long as you tell me important things, things I need to know.”
“Like what?”
Fiyero pulled away slightly. He brought his hand to her face, running his knuckle against her cheek. She flinched briefly, before relaxing into his touch.
“Like that. You don’t need to tell me what happened to make you flinch every time I touch you, but I need to know if I’m scaring you or hurting you, and if there’s anything I can do to avoid it. ”
Taking hold of his hand with her own, she brought his palm to her mouth, kissing the calloused skin. She had never thought to wonder why his skin was so callous. It didn’t seem usual for a prince, and yet it seemed to fit him so well.
“I tend to lash out when I feel particularly vulnerable. I can’t promise you’ll never be on the other end of it.”
“I have four siblings, three of which can talk. I doubt there is much you can say that I haven’t already heard.”
Elphaba pulled away from him, upset at his attempt to alleviate the serious mood.
“Don’t patronize me. What I do, it is not the same as a child throwing a tantrum.”
“I didn’t mean to,” he assured her. “I am serious though. My older brother hasn’t talked to me in years, and I would still forgive him if he asked me to. I know it might sound pathetic, but I find little room in my mind for grudges. I don’t like keeping my feet stuck in the mud of the past.”
She hadn’t known. Of course he had hardship, everyone does. The Vinkun royal family, they seemed happy, full of love. She couldn’t imagine any hate filling that space. Though, every family had their secrets. Especially those in power.
“Don’t bring up religion, it’s an incredibly sore topic.”
“Noted.”
“And don’t expect to act nice, or demure, or polite. I’m not a diplomat, nor do I ever intend to be. I know you have a reputation as a prince to uphold so if that’s a deal breaker-“
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he assured her, refusing to even entertain the thought.
The two were quiet for a moment, then Fiyero spoke, making his only unprompted rule suggestion.
“What happened that day, it can’t happen again. I know you think it’s the only way to protect yourself, but I need you to listen to me.”
It took a moment. Fiyero could see the gears in her mind turning as she weighed whether she could actually promise to keep to such a thing. Then Elphaba nodded, though the way her brows bent and the bit ting of her bottom lip told Fiyero she was less than confident.
“Elphaba,” Fiyero needled, pushing her for more. “You have beautiful voice, use it.”
“I won’t run away,” she obliged him. “At least not till after I’ve listened to whatever you have to say.”
It wasn’t perfect, but he could live with it. People didn’t heal overnight, and he imagined Elphaba had gone through something rather harsh for Rain to put up with much of her antics.
“And Glinda,” Elphaba questioned, though her voice was playful and not irate or jealous, as he expected. “Is she going anywhere?”
“Typically, I’m not keen to share,” Fiyero clarified. “But exceptions can be made. I won’t lie and say I’m not fond of our trysts.”
Elphaba couldn’t help but laugh.
“The ones that happen after my performances, you mean?”
The air suddenly grew thicker. Fiyero nodded, leaning down to leave a kiss against her neck. He followed the green to her collarbone but didn’t move past the hem. Instead, he traced his line of kisses back up, following the pattern once more. Elphaba let her hands dig into soft dirty blonde hair, and when he nipped the skin in the hallow of her neck, she let out a moan, both surprised at the action and her own reaction.
“It was Glinda’s idea, for the record,” Fiyero stated. “But once I was in, I didn’t hold back.”
He fell to his knees, fingers grazing her side as he dropped. The shirt she wore was thin, and he could tell she was bare underneath, the silhouette of her hardens nipples peeking through. His hand wrapped around the back of her right calf, kissing the swirling line of green that traveled up her body. When he made it to her inner thigh, she stumbled back, her legs shaking as she braced herself against the desk. Fiyero leaned between her legs, his lips ghosting over her sweet spot before pulling away, leaving her breathy and wanting. He returned to her neck, kissing up to her jaw as his knee took the place his head once been. With the smallest movement she writhed against him.
“Which time was your favorite?” Elphaba asked. Clearly, she was losing on the physical front, and so she decided psychological was the way to go.
His kisses ceased. Elphaba froze, a sound ringing in the back of her head, telling her she messed up. Of course she had, she always did something wrong. When any moment of joy or pleasure was inevitably ruined, it all lead back to her. Her hands gently pushed him away. She wasn’t running, but it was hard to stay pressed against Fiyero when his mind was clearly elsewhere. Fiyero came back to reality at the movement and gave her a confusifed look.
“Never mind, it was a stupid question anyways.”
When Elphaba shifted to the left, trying to make her way between him and the table, his hand came down. The sound of his palm against the wood reverberated throughout the room. The look in his eyes changed, darkening as he took her in.
She realized then that she had terribly misread the reason he paused.