Chapter 25
Tip pushed himself off the frame of the door. He wore a green jacket that indicated he was part of the Gale force guard. Elphaba couldn’t help but snort at it. Was that how he was justifying his presence in the castle when he switched forms? If anyone believed for a second, he did any actual work in that uniform they were poorly mistaken. Immediately, whatever cool façade tip tried to put on in front of Fiyero broke. With a sigh, his shoulders relaxed, and his face fell into that of annoyance.
“Oh, come off it,” he groaned. “I think I look good.”
Elphaba continued to laugh unable to pretend she though Tip in uniform was anything other than the most hilarious concept in Oz.
“I can’t help it,” Elphaba answered, her words separated by laughs and gasps of air. “You look ridiculous.”
Tip rolled his eyes as he came to Elphaba’s side. He took her hand leaving a kiss on her knuckles. A sharp breath came from Fiyero. He knew it was merely an affection act between friends, but it didn’t stop the small bit of jealousy. Not just at the kiss, but the way he made her laugh. How she didn’t flinch when he touched her. Fiyero desperately wanted that. He knew it wasn’t something he could just have. She had known Tip for years, grown up with him. Of course, she was able to let her wall down when he was near.
Lox turned around to see the open door. Fiyero’s younger siblings peaked through it, watching everything that happened intently. Elphaba followed her friend’s gaze, becoming aware of their audience.
“We have an audience,” Lox grumbled.
Fiyero looked towards his siblings, who acted as if they were invisible. He let out a two-toned whistle that got them to look at him.
“You two, close the door and go find Mama.”
Thana nodded her head vigorously, as if she had expected to get punished and was adamant to leave before any worse fate could be doled out. The door was a bit heavy for the kids, but Amael managed to pull it closed with enough force that it slammed shut with a loud thud.
Tip sat on the edge of the bed, getting closer to Elphaba’s level. She looked rough, with a pale face and ragged breath. Though, Elphaba rarely ever looked truly happy, Tip never felt at ease when she looked downright miserable.
“I’ve heard academia hasn’t been kind to you,” Tip said, trying to keep the mood light.
Fiyero stepped back, his fingertips grazing the side of Elphaba’s shoulder. He held back any interruption he wanted to make, trying to give Elphaba some space to speak to her old friend. Even if he wanted to be the one holding her hand in comfort or making her laugh.
“I’ll admit, the first month had me wishing I was twelve again.”
Tip’s faced morphed into one of amusement of disbelief.
“You mean when I found you rain-drenched and begging for food?”
Elphaba pretended to think for a second, mocking the obviousness of Tip’s statement.
“That would be the time I’m referring too.”
Hearing the words had Fiyero looking down at Elphaba, horrified. He realized how little he knew of her life, and how every bit that was revealed to him seemed to multiply the reasons she kept her walls so high. He didn’t want to think about how odd it was to see her so at ease.
“And yet you still return to the Emerald City with a prince on your arm,” Tip said, cheekily looking up at Fiyero. “I can only assume that helped to take off the edge.”
“More like damn near pushed me over it,” Elphaba answered.
That elicited a response Fiyero couldn’t even fathom holding back. His head snapped to the side; eyes buried on her, eyebrows knitted, mouth slightly ajar. Elphaba caught his gaze quickly, realizing that the words probably weren’t the best choice. Tip noticed the tension, deciding to intervene, though maybe in the worst way possible.
“Should I attempt to put out the fire, or hand you another match?”
If looks could kill, Tip would surely be dead. Dead and torn to bits if Lox’s gaze was taken into account. There was a quiet truth between the three of them. That while Tip longed to create relationships, his lineage prevented such a thing. That Elphaba was situated to have the life Tip could have only dreamed of, and she pushed it away at every chance of normal relationships. Then there was Lox, who watched over his incredible, powerful friends in their misery, even when he thought they hung the moon, and assumed that he must be miserable as well.
“If I would melt in the process, I’d gladly tell you to douse it.”
“Phabala-”
“An old wives’ tale,” Rain’s voice interrupted the three of them. “A rather tiresome one at that.”
The old woman walked into the room, making her way around Lox and shooing Tip off the bed. Taking his place, she made a cursory look over Elphaba’s state.
“What happened?” Rain asked.
As Elphaba began to explain the horrendible pain in her shoulder, Fiyero noticed his father in the doorway. The look in the king’s eyes made it clear that he wanted a conversation with his son, and Fiyero didn’t think it was going to be an entirely pleasant one. Elphaba gaze landed on him as she spoke, then to his father in the doorway. With a nod, she gave him an unspoken approval that it was okay for him to go. While he didn’t feel right about it, he didn’t want to cause a scene. Quietly, he slipped away, making his way outside the room and closing the door behind him.
“I’m not allowed to yell at you, at least, not unless I want the ire of your mother to follow me for the next month, but I have half a mind to anyways. Why in Lureline’s name was she in her room?
“Father-,”
“That girl is cursed with dark magic, every time she is near danger seems to linger around my family.”
“She isn’t causing it,” Fiyero hissed.
“You and your mother seem so sure of that, but there is a history of the west falling into disarray when a witch gets too close to the crowned prince. My father taught me to remember well that history repeats. I’m not going to risk my country, my home, my family, and certainly not my son. Choose anyone else, leave her to do what Rain does for us in the Emerald City. A professional relationship, one that benefits the Vinkus instead of threatens it.”
Fiyero took a deep breath. He understood his father’s fear, after everything that had happened in Fiyero’s childhood, his father put a heavy priority on making sure the family was safe and secure. It could make the King slightly irrational from time to time, though his advisors
and queen often were able to talk sense into him. Clearly the queen hadn’t yet had enough time to put some sense into him.
“I know it must irk you to no end that mother refused to let you arrange my marriage and plan my life for me. I know you worry for me, that you carry the weight of the Vinkus on your shoulders. I certainly understand that you still fault yourself for everything that happened to Mama and me during the conflict. That pain, as brutal as it was, was not your fault,” Fiyero paused for a moment, watching as his father’s face tensed at the mention of the past. “That being said, if you continue down this path out of fear of tragedy of the past, the pain that follows will be one of your creation. It will be the burden you bear.”
A silence followed. The King opened his mouth, as if about to respond, but found no words. He wasn’t used to such stubbornness from his son. When Fiyero was a child, he rarely argued, never asked for more time before bed, or fought over the dinner put on his plate. When his education began, he showed a bit of agitation towards his parents, but it was clearly from frustration that he felt unable to do something he perceived as expected, and not out of any anger or feeling that he shouldn’t have to do such work. Generally, Fiyero was a good, well behaved son. Some even thought to worrying degree.
It was when the boy was seven that things shifted so violently. While tensions between those with royal claim to the Tigelaar line had tried to usurp power before, due to the unsteady nature of the Vinkus, it rarely broke out into a civil war within the Arijikian tribe. There were other bigger enemies, outside tribes that would try to take their place. The previous King, his grandfather, and Rain had done the almost impossible task of reconsolidating the Vinkus under the Arijikians over the past half century. It made room for factions in the tribe to grow, leading to a two-year civil war between three lines with royal claim. Fiyero’s family had come out victorious, mainly due to the loyalty of the bulk of Vinkun soldiers to the previous king and the stability he helped to bring. Rain played a part, Fiyero knew, but to what extent he was never told, nor did he particularly want to know.
Towards the end of the conflict, there was the siege of Kiamo Ko. Fiyero and his mother had fled to the Red Windmill, a settlement near the castle. The King and his brother Manek statyed to fight. While the night ended in a decisive victory for the Tigulaar line, soldiers from the waring side had ransacked the settlement. By some miracle, none of them recognized Fiyero or his mother, a fact that likely saved them from death. It didn’t spare them from the other brutalities of war. When the dust had settled and his father’s soldiers took control of the area, he couldn’t bring himself to say a word of what happened. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything at all.
“I thought I was going to lose your mother and sister that day in the train. I thought I would lose you when I read of what happened, first in the city, then at the university. Every time it feels like that night,” The king took a shaky breath, composing himself as he felt the shaking in his voice. “I won’t stop you. You are old enough to make your own decisions, and I couldn’t bear to be the cause of your suffering. Just be sure the risk you are taking is worth it.”
Fiyero didn’t hesitate, his decision immediate and firm.
“She is.”
--
“Be honest, is she going to make it?” Tip joked, leaning against the wall as the glow against Elphaba’s marks disappeared. Rain had put her hand on the young witch’s shoulder, using her own magic to evaluate the injuries Elphaba may have carried in her own. It seems she had found something, given the pensive look she held.
“This is my fault,” Rain sighed. “I should have been more attentive during my first treatment after the incident at the university. If I had I would have seen the lingering cesspool of dark magic buried in your shoulder.”
Elphaba glanced at her shoulder, which by all accounts looked completely normal. Whatever dark magic Rain had been referring too had receded to whatever it had been before. A small, but ignorable ache.
“What does that even mean?”
It was Lox who asked, laying on the floor as he watched the three of them. Unlike Rain, Elphaba, or Tip, he wasn’t knowledgeable in magic or sorcery. Even less so did he understand any such magical ailments.
“Part of the curse broke off, for a lack of a better word,” Tip explained. “Part of the curses magic embedded itself in a wound on the metaphysical magical form. It’s basically a bacterial infection, but instead of tiny little cells it’s dark magic.”
Elphaba sighed. She should have noticed. The pain, the feeling of using far too much magic for the spells she was casting. She had ignored it, figuring it was just a leftover result of the toll the curse took on her. She had enough to think about and the idea that it could have been something more hadn’t even crossed her mind.
“I’ll whip you up a potion. You’ll have to take it for the next few days, but you should be fine.”
“Why didn’t this happen earlier?” Elphaba asked. “It’s been weeks since that incident.”
Tilting her head, Rain went over the possibilities. Generally, she would have expected such a thing to occur in the days following. It had hidden away, quiet until this moment. The magic isolation did seem strong, but it likely only grew to such a size because it
“I guess there is a chance that by the time it was strong enough to do any damage your magic had grown strong enough to fight it off,” Rain posited. “I don’t know what triggered it now though.”
“I have an idea.”
They all looked at Elphaba, either with curiosity or confusion. More likely a mix of both.
“I had these dreams,” she explained. “Some were from the past but others, I heard those voices again. The ones I heard the first time.”
“The people you think are targeting the Tiggulars?”
Elphaba nodded. She explained what she had seen and heard. The memory of the curse snapping filled her mind again. She realized that when it lashed backwards, that was when it hit her shoulder. She hadn’t noticed at the time, too focused on the pain and keeping the curse in place. It was possible that the magic that held back the infection lapsed during the whole ordeal. Magic related to divinity is often unpredictable like that.
“I can’t remember it well,” Elphaba admitted. “It was a blur of noises and colors. Honestly, I just wanted to end.”
Rain gave her a sympathetic smile, giving some camaraderie to a pain they both knew well. Visions were often touchy and came and went like the wind.
“You need rest,” Rain declared. “Though, I’d rather not drag you through the city.”
The room went silent for a moment until Rain let out a faux cough. Nothing happened, and then Lox let out a grumble in Tip’s direction.
“Oh,” Tip finally understood. “She’ll stay in the castle while she recovers.”
Elphaba let out a laugh as she saw Tip’s face. He had probably assumed that it was a given. Rain was old though and believed in some level of decorum and social rules that had long since died out in their generation.
“Oz, could you be any denser?”
Tip rolled his eyes, but the smile on his lips gave away his true feelings. The door opened and Fiyero came back in, a steeled look on his face.
“Is everything alright?” he asked.
“The land of the living will keep her yet,” Tip answered with a lack of seriousness that Fiyero did not appreciated. “I’ve got to take my leave. Lox will make sure the room is set up for you as quickly as possible.”
The Lion grumbled once more. Lox had likely gained his reputation as grumpy due to his constantly dealing with Tip’s shenanigans, and Elphaba didn’t blame him. She knew though that Lox wasn’t nearly as annoyed as he acted. Tip knew how to push their buttons, but he also knew where to draw a line.
“She can stay here,” Fiyero said, confidently. “It makes more sense. I can be here if anything else happens.”
“I think your father would have a fit,” Elphaba replied. “I have no interest in causing tension between you and your family.”
“Well either you’re staying here or I’m leaving with you.”
Elphaba looked at him in disbelief. He was being ridiculous; she would be fine. More than that, she would still be in the same general area. If he felt the need, all he would have to do is walk a few hundred feet.
“Don’t be daft.”
“I’ll dance in the city square with a fish on my head if that’s what it takes to make sure you’re okay.”
With a huff, Elphaba let herself fall against the pillow. Her head was beginning to ache, and she had very little will left in her to fight. It was rare that someone’s stubbornness outweighed her own. Then again, Fiyero had more than proved he had the same persistence rather well over the last semester.
“Do as you will” she conceded. “Though someone get me some willow bark or some such to chew on. You’re all giving me a headache.”
Rain left first, heading to the infirmary of the castle to start on a potion for the magic infection. Lox followed after, saying something or other about getting back to work. Tip was the last to exit, making a big show of hugging Elphaba and leaving kisses across her forehead. As he left, he leaned over to Fiyero, who stood at the doorway, eagerly awaiting the man’s departure.
“I’m not a threat,” he whispered. “Don’t make me one in your head, because if you give her a reason to set what you have in flames, she will take it.”
“I’ll be sure to have a bucket of water at the ready.”
Then he closed the door, and wasted no time returning to Elphaba’s side. Cold fingers wrapped around his torso, clinging to the gray fabric as she laid her head upon his chest. He pulled her close to him, her earthen smell, like an early morning walk through the trees, instantly had him calming. She was here with him, alive and (for the most part) well. For now, that was enough.