Chapter Text
Dorothy wrapped herself around Elphaba, firmly placing herself between her and Fiyero in the bed. She had set one foot into the room now designated as her own before declaring it “too empty” and “lonely” and making her way out to Elphaba’s bed in the attached room. By the time Fiyero returned, Dorothy had already crawled under the covers— right in the middle of the bed.
Elphaba didn’t say anything about their change in plans, instead simply joining Dorothy on the right side of the bed.
Fiyero couldn’t hold back his smile at the pair of them— Dorothy curled up in Elphaba’s arms— both wearing his family’s design on their embroidered pajamas. Elphaba knew the significance of the blue patterns— proudly labelling her as part of the Tigelaars, part of Fiyero’s family— but he doubted Dorothy understood the weight of the shirt she wore, the blue diamonds matching the ones that had once covered Fiyero; now replaced by her drawing. Her own sign of family.
Fiyero shook his head. He couldn’t think like that. No matter how much he wanted it, he wasn’t Dorothy’s family. He was just taking care of her. He was not her father, no matter how desperately he wanted it, seeing her curled up next to his love. She was not his daughter.
Yet she wore his family vyshyvankas, identifying her as his daughter.
“Yero,” she called out from the bed, still tangled in Elphaba’s embrace. “You promised a new story. About someone named Yelen and a wicked wizard.”
“No Wicked Witch?” Elphaba teased as Fiyero joined them on Dorothy’s other side.
“You’re not wicked!” Dorothy left Elphaba’s side to stare at her in horror at the idea of Princess Fae being wicked. “Nobody with as much love as you is wicked!”
Elphaba flushed at the compliment.
“I mean it! You should see how you look at me and Fiyero! You love people too much to be wicked! And! wicked people hurt people. You save people.”
Dorothy fell back into Elphaba, her tirade over. Her breathing slowed and her eyes closed, exhausted from all the new things in Kiamo Ko and their busy day simply spent exploring the grounds.
“Like you saved Fiyero,” she softly said. She mumbled her words on the verge of sleep, but there was no other interpretation of the next four words she spoke: “like you saved me.”
Before Fiyero or Elphaba could even form a question, Dorothy fell asleep, her heartrate levelling out against Fiyero.
Elphaba and Fiyero laid in silence, Elphaba’s free arm reaching around Dorothy to hold Fiyero. She grasped his soft shoulder in her hands, pulling him closer. Under her touch the fabric felt like skin, worn and scarred but human. It was slightly unpleasant the way she pulled at him, stretching his skin away from him but the feeling of Elphaba and her skin on his was greater than any soothing balm could ever be.
He had nearly forgotten what it was like to feel another person’s embrace.
By the way she held him Elphaba also seemed to be reveling in the sensation of touch. There was no way she had held Avaric or any other person since… since that day, that wasn’t who she was. She had barely even touched Fiyero at first, not until that day with cub— months after Fiyero had first arrived at Shiz.
He leaned into her embrace, using his own arms to shift her hold down to his forearm and wrapping himself around Dorothy to cradle Elphaba’s back. It felt so right to finally be back together, holding, loving, protecting, Elphaba. They were finally back together after weeks. Kiamo Ko was a home once more, their bed back to being filled— and with a new addition this time.
At first, Fiyero believed perhaps Elphaba had stayed in Dorothy’s chamber in his absence, not wanting to be alone in a bed they had once shared, but Dorothy’s observations were correct; the room had a certain stillness and sterility to it. The couch didn’t have a single dip from use, not a pillow was out of place, and the room was completely bare— no books or trinkets on the empty shelves. Elphaba couldn’t have stayed in there; the only sign of life was the mattress Dorothy had somehow managed to push onto the floor the night before.
“Elphaba.” He didn’t want to push, but if she had been neglecting something as simple as sleep in his absence what multitude of other needs had she ignored? He had to ask. “What happened while I was gone? What did you do?”
She stiffened in his arms.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Please Elphaba, I need to know that you were alright. That you took care of yourself.”
“I was safe here.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Elphaba sat in silence before a violent jerk ran through her body, her hand immediately rushing to cover her mouth.
“Elphaba?”
She ignored him, too busy jostling Dorothy around with her sudden movements. Normally she was so gentle with the girl but she barely seemed to notice Dorothy’s groan as she removed herself from the girl to run to the washroom.
This time, Fiyero didn’t let her go alone. He was halfway to the attached room when a small voice interrupted him.
“Yero?” Dorothy sat up in the bed. Her eyes were bleary, half lidded and half asleep, Elphaba’s movements having awoken her from her slumber.
“Don’t worry. Elphaba just had to use the washroom. You can go to sleep.”
“Will she be back?”
Fiyero thought back to that morning.
“Yes. She always comes back.”
“You too?”
“Yes. Neither of us will leave you. Now go back to sleep. We’ll be just a moment.”
Dorothy nodded. It was slow, exhaustion already seeping back into her features.
In the washroom Elphaba hung over the toilet bowl, the contents of her stomach emptying themselves into the water below. Fiyero was instantly at her side, pulling her long hair away to the side. Luckily it was already braided for the night, making Fiyero’s job much easier. After several long moments the heaving slowed to a stop and Elphaba leaned back, breathing heavily.
“Is that what happened this morning?”
Elphaba took a moment to regain her breath before she responded. She wiped the remaining spittle onto the back of her hands as she spoke. “Unfortunely yes.” She pushed herself up off the floor, but she wobbled as she stood before sliding back down to a seated position, Fiyero’s now soft body cushioning her fall. “It seems to happen more often than not these days.”
“Are you alright? Is something wrong?” Fiyero reached out to rest his hand on her abdomen; it was warm against his chest.
Warm?
Even when he had sat only a handful of feet from their nightly bonfires on his journey with Dorothy he hadn’t felt the fire’s heat. He had just barely felt the flames in Fenn’s burning cottage as they surrounded him, scorching him. But he could feel the warmth of Elphaba’s stomach.
His hands no longer felt like gloved fabric, but worn and chapped as his skin had been, damaged and rough from his time in the guard. He could even feel the faint groove at the base of his fingers, indented from hours on end spent holding Feldspur’s reigns. He felt human. More than he ever had since that day in the corn field.
Witch lover.
He pushed the thoughts back, he couldn’t dwell on the past, not with Elphaba beside him in the present. He might be a witch lover, but at least now he was reunited with the witch he loved.
He moved his hand to her face, wiping away some of the sweat that had beaded on her forehead. His hands felt less detailed, more fabric as he moved them away from her torso. He still felt more real, more human, but not nearly as much as he had just seconds prior.
When he pulled away from Elphaba the feeling lifted completely. All sensations were gone, his hands returning to straw and fabric.
“Nothing is wrong. I’m alright.” She tried to stand up again but she was shaking so much that Fiyero pulled her into his embrace. She didn’t resist.
“You vomit more days than not.”
“Because I thought you were dead. I thought I lost you forever.”
“But you didn’t.” He pulled her closer, her head resting on his shoulder.
“I didn’t.” She continued to lean into him, the pair falling into silence. He had missed this, simply spending time in Elphaba’s company. He turned to look at her, despite being sick she was still beautiful. She would never not be beautiful. She turned to look up at him and he leaned forward, meeting her in a kiss. He never thought he would get to see her again, he wasn’t going to waste a single moment with her— even if it was on the washroom floor.
Elphaba let out a singular dry laugh as they pulled apart. “I must taste disgusting.”
“I can’t taste anything anymore.” It was only a half truth. He couldn’t taste food, he had hardly been able to smell the meal they had made supper, but for some reason he could just barely taste the bitter sick leftover on Elphaba’s lips. It was faint but it was there.
“I’m sorry.”
“Dont be.” Fiyero grasped her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You saved me.”
She took a moment before she spoke again.
“Dorothy was right,” she softly said, once more pulling away from Fiyero. “I’ve been thinking about it all day, I could do something. I’ve been searching the Grimmerie nonstop, but she’s right. I don’t need it. I can learn from it, but ultimately, it would be me alone casting the spell. There has to be something I can do to reverse it. I just haven’t figured out what yet.” She paused before she reached out and grabbed his hand. She placed their hands on his chest, where his heart was, where she was. “But only if you are certain you want this. It’s not guaranteed, and I can’t lose you again.”
Everything in Fiyero screamed yes. He wanted nothing more than to be human again. To hold Elphaba in real human arms, to properly protect and love her. He didn’t want her to be held back by his broken form.
“You won’t lose me.” He reached across to tuck away a stray hair, it simply stuck to his cotton hand. She didn’t comment on it. “You’re too powerful to do that. You love me too much to hurt me, even unconsciously. Even your magic knows this. Why do you think it chose me that day with the Cub? I trust you.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I want to do it. I want my body back. I want to be here for you.”
“You already are,” she interrupted.
“I want to be perfect for you. Like you deserve.”
“Fiyero…”
“I want to be able to kiss and hold you and have it not be rough cotton, but the man that you love.”
“You’re already the man I love.”
“I want to be able to protect you. Why do you think I joined the guard?”
Elphaba paused, unsure of a response.
“I did it to protect you. I will always protect you.”
Elphaba was silent. He grasped her chin, pulling her to meet his eyes.
“Elphaba please, let me protect you again. It’s what I know how to do. It’s all I know how to do.”
They simply gazed into each other's eyes, rich brown meeting embroidered blue. Elphaba brought a hand up to trace the side of Fiyero’s face, her thumb paused at each stitched on scar.
“Only if you let me do the same.” Her voice was soft as she spoke, but Fiyero knew her enough to hear the emotions underneath: I can’t lose you again.
“Of course.” He couldn’t lose her again either. He needed her more than anything in the world. He needed her safe, and to properly protect her he had to be human once more.
—
The next day it rained. It poured. A storm pounding down on the castle, attacking the residents who hid within. Gusts practically rattled the castle walls, shrieking as wind and rain assaulted the ancient stones.
It was unnatural, built by only one person’s unfiltered rage: Morrible. It had taken her days but she finally realized her little Witch Hunter was missing, no longer working with the Wizard to take down Elphaba as she had to Nessa.
Fiyero was a secondary worry to her; he had seen how Morrible watched Dorothy, their talks reminding him of the many meetings Glinda would have with her. He felt physically ill at the prospect of Morrible— or the Wizard— getting their hands on Dorothy and twisting her into a tool like Glinda. It might be too late for Glinda, but he refused to let them get their hands on Dorothy; she was a child.
He met Elphaba’s eyes, the question left unsaid, but she would know what he was asking.
Does she know where we are?
Her answer also hung in the air.
I’m not sure. It’s possible.
And the possibility was horrifying.
“You don’t think it’ll…” Dorothy trailed off, staring out the window, watching as the thin poplars swayed back and forth— the smaller ones nearly bending in half, with their highest leaves reaching the grass below. The trees bent and snapped, creating a crosshatch of trunks in the wind’s wake. She didn’t finish her sentence, leaving Fiyero to pick up the final words but unlike her, he couldn’t read what those around him were thinking. He didn’t know what the end of her question was.
“A twister,” Dorothy softly said after a long moment, filled only by the howling of the wind and Dorothy’s quickening breath. “You don’t think…” She paused, the word seeming to die on her lips. “One of those will form? Do you?”
A twister.
The phrase felt unfamiliar to Fiyero, probably another one of Dorothy’s Kansas sayings.
“I don’t want to leave again.” She breathed the admission out more than she spoke it. “Get scooped up and taken away from home again.” She looked down to her feet; the silver slippers had been replaced by a simple pair of brown leather boots. “I don’t want to hurt anyone else…”
The pieces finally fell into place. The twister, the tornado, the cyclone. They were all the same word. Dorothy was scared of another cyclone— uprooting her and sending her to a new place. The girl nervously tapped her new shoes looking up at Fiyero for a response. Hurting— killing— others in the process.
“Where is the storm shelter?” Dorothy continued on before Fiyero could even respond to her first question.
“We don’t have a storm shelter.” He didn’t have to ask what exactly a storm shelter was, he knew they wouldn’t need one. Kiamo Ko had withstood centuries of attacks— both from armies and nature. Even if the thick stones couldn’t hold back Morrible, the magic embedded in the land itself would defend them. The power of the land had gone untapped for decades, silenced since his arrival, but Fiyero could see the way it wrapped itself around Elphaba. He had never noticed its presence himself— only knowing it through tales and histories— but ever since his and Dorothy’s arrival it was unmistakable; curling around and cradling both Elphaba and Dorothy in its embrace.
He knew if worst came to worst the magic braided into every stone of the castle would save both of them.
“There’s no storm shelter?” Dorothy’s breath hitched, before rushing out in much quicker spurts than it had just moments earlier. “What if a twister comes? Where would we go? How do we stay safe?” Her last sentence was the quietest but the most potent of her questions: “What if it takes me away again?”
“Dorothy.” Elphaba grabbed her shaking hands, kneeling to be level with the girl. “Kiamo Ko is strong and safe. We don’t need a storm shelter; the castle will protect us.”
A house flying through the sky.
Elphaba has seen Dorothy’s flying house in her vision; she must have seen the storm that carried it as well. Only the two of them truly understood what Dorothy must have experienced. She reached up to wipe Dorothy’s leaking tears away. “It will be alright.”
“You don’t know that. The castle might stay together, but so did the farmhouse. What if it gets scooped up? Carried away? What if I get taken away again? What if I’m lost again? What if I’m alone again?”
“You won’t be alone. Not ever again.” Elphaba pulled Dorothy close to her, rubbing soothing circles along Dorothy’s back as she spoke. The girl simply held onto her, clearly trying not to cry into Elphaba’s chest. “If Kiamo Ko is carried away, I’ll be here with you. Fiyero will be here with you. You are not alone. No matter what happens. I will be with you. Wherever you go, I will go too. You are not alone. I am here for you.”
Dorothy finally looked up from her new boots— tears in her eyes— to meet Elphaba’s gaze. “You swear?”
Elphaba nodded. “I swear.” She put out her right hand. “I will never let you be alone. I will always be with you.”
Dorothy took her outreached hand, nodding as she shook on Elphaba’s promise. Instead of pulling away when she was done, she kept her hand in the hold— green and pale skin tangled together, into one body.
Nothing moved. The three of them stayed frozen in the moment for seconds or minutes; Fiyero had no way of knowing, the time stretched down into a single solid moment of knowing between the women before him.
Dorothy broke it, taking her hand back to wipe her tears and nose. The moment was gone— but it had happened, a shared understanding between Elphaba and Dorothy that Fiyero was not privy to.
He had to stamp down the pang of jealousy. He had no right to be involved. He couldn’t save Elphaba, how could he ever save Dorothy? Elphaba was stronger, more powerful, more human. She should be the one to stick by Dorothy’s side and offer her comfort, never let her be alone again. No matter how desperately he tried to offer her a familiar face and comfort he never could. He was simply a pile of scraps held together by his own broken mind. Dorothy deserved someone solid, someone real, someone human. She deserved Elphaba, not whatever creature Fiyero was.
“Thank you.” Dorothy’s voice was small, seeming to catch on her tears, a loose thread pulling away from its home on the wind never to be seen again. Elphaba simply nodded, reaching out for the stray tears Dorothy had missed, and Dorothy barreled forward for a hug. The sudden hug wasn’t the surprising part— the girl was incredibly affectionate as Fiyero had known since first meeting her and Elphaba was quickly picking up— but the person she reached for was.
She ran into Fiyero wrapping herself around him. He had already knelt down like Elphaba to be level with Dorothy and she pulled them together, her racing heartbeat echoing where his own should have been.
“And you as well?” she asked into him. “You will stay with us?”
“Dorothy.” He returned the hug, swallowing her up in his fabric; a blanket to cover her from the monsters just outside. “I haven’t left your side once, I won’t start now. I didn’t leave when you met with the Wizard. I didn’t leave when you were frozen in the field of poppies. I didn’t leave when you freed me, I joined you. I will never leave you.”
Dorothy squeezed him tighter, the action speaking more than words ever could.
“Thank you,” she said once more, but this time to Fiyero.
He held onto her embrace, refusing to be the one to break it, instead he rubbed circles into her back and began to speak.
“Why don’t we make something to eat and then afterwards we can go someplace special?”
“Special?” Dorothy lit up at the word, the storm completely forgotten as she pulled away from Fiyero with a massive grin growing on her face. It only lasted a moment— just long enough for Fiyero to share a quick glance with Elphaba— before a clap of thunder shook Dorothy, wiping her grin off and leaving her hands quaking as she held onto Fiyero’s upper arms.
—
“This is the special place? This is the same hallway we came down already!”
Fiyero simply grinned, he knew Dorothy would change her tune in just a moment. With just a small push from him the wide double doors split open, revealing the expansive room beyond them. Dorothy’s mouth fell to the floor at the sight, books spanning farther than she could ever see.
“What— what is it?” She squeezed Fiyero’s hand as she spoke. He could feel the callouses along her palm rubbing up against his own.
His own?
He couldn’t remember Elphaba adding calluses to his fabric hands, but in Dorothy’s hold his old ones from archery and sparring seemed to return; his skin becoming human under her touch.
“It’s a library,” he explained as he pulled her further into the room; she had paused at the doorway, no longer moving without Fiyero’s guidance.
“Library.” She rolled the word around her mouth, seeming to taste it for the first time, her accent making her miss the first ‘r’ in her pronunciation. “What is it for?”
Fiyero simply laughed. “I thought you loved books and reading.”
“I love stories,” Dorothy corrected. She paused, her mouth twitching back and forth as she seemed to pick her next few words. “We don’t— well— there’s not too many books back in Kansas. They’re expensive. And I don’t know anyone with money to spare. Olive’s daddy might have some nice bulls but he’s still a farmer like the rest of us. The only book we have— had, I suppose now it’s somewhere in Munchkinland— is— was— Auntie Em’s bible, but she says it counts as sixty-six books. I suppose it’s technically true; but that doesn’t count! some of them are only half a page. Miss Barnes has a handful of books, but not like—” She just pointed her loose hand around the room. “Like this. They’re mostly grammar books.” Dorothy managed to put more disgust into the word ‘grammar’ than she had ever shown for any of the many horrors on their journey down the yellow brick road.
“And…” She dug her foot into the carpet, tracing circles with her big toe as she spoke. “I like stories better anyways. That way I don’t have to worry about all the words and reading. I can listen to stories and actually understand them. I— I can’t do that with reading, it’s too…” She paused, her mouth once more twitching as she searched for the proper word. “Confusing.”
Fiyero had no response. Dorothy acted like nothing could stop her, as if she could accomplish anything, but here she struggled to do something he knew she would love. Elphaba shared a knowing glance with him.
“Wait…” Dorothy’s eyes grew wide at her apparent discovery. She turned to point her spare hand at Fiyero, her other one still firmly in his grasp. “You still haven’t told me what a library is yet!”
“It’s a place for storing and collecting books and other old things.”
Fiyero could hear Elphaba’s dramatic sigh at the phrase ‘and other old things’ from where she still stood in the doorway.
“Other old things?”
“I’ll show you.” He gently guided her over to a nearby wall, among other tapestries hung a large framed map of the continent. It was older than Fiyero could ever imagine, preserved by a magical Tigelaar generations before to never fade or wear. It was a living map, new cities and borders penned in as they grew and changed.
“It’s different.” Dorothy raised her hand to trace the ocean around Nonestica, her fingers just off the map not actually touching its frame. “There’s an ocean. I thought just pure desert surrounded Oz, I didn’t realize there were countries beyond it.”
“Most people don’t,” Elphaba said, moving to stand next to the girl. “And look.” She guided Dorothy’s hand to point to the western regions of Vinkus— those that included the grasslands and desert, nicknamed “the Badlands” by eastern Ozians unused to the harsh climate of the region. There were rumours that it was uninhabitable and even deadly— life withering away from just touching its dry sand. Clearly, they had never seen the beauty of dozens of noon-queens blooming at once or the migration of tetracolour waders to the many salt lakes in winter. Fiyero had only travelled to the Caprocks once as a young teen on a trip with his father to establish a new trade route through the country. It was incredibly different from the forests surrounding the Great Kells or the great plains and grasslands of central Vinkus, but it had felt more like home than Shiz or the Emerald City ever had. It was still part of his home and land. The Vinkus was part of Fiyero, and he never realized until his years away.
“Oz isn’t perfectly square, ending at the desert's edge as the Wizard’s maps show,” Elphaba explained, as Dorothy examined the map.
“Why?” In the dim lighting, Dorothy almost looked green next to Elphaba.
“Sometimes people choose to believe…" Fiyero paused as he searched for the right words. “What’s simple over what’s true.”
Dorothy nodded as she ran her fingers along the thick paper, tracing across the western border all the way to Ev. “This is all the Vinkus?”
Fiyero nodded.
“It goes on so far…”
“It hasn't even been completely surveyed yet,” he said with a chuckle.
“Do you not know what's out there?”
“We do. Surveying is just figuring out exactly how large a region is or how deep a lake is.”
Dorothy simply nodded.
“There’s so much more than I imagined. The other maps I’ver seen weren't nearly as big.”
“Again, people believe what’s simple over what’s true.”
Dorothy furrowed her brows. Fiyero started to explain but it was clear she wasn’t listening, instead seeming to mouth things along to herself and staring back at the map. “The Wizard wants people to believe what’s simple, so he only tells and shows them what's simple. He doesn’t show them what’s true.”
“You’re clever.” Fiyero had rarely spoken Vinkun for half a decade, but the language had never left him, certain words always slipping out when no others would suffice. “I’ll have to start calling you lysychka.”
Once more she furrowed her brows. “Lashucka?”
“Lysychka. It’s Vinkun. It means fox kit.”
He didn’t explain the reasoning behind the nickname, knowing Dorothy would quickly figure it out herself. She wasn’t even half way through furrowing her brows for a second time before she realized what he meant.
“Oh! Because Foxes are smart!”
He couldn’t have stopped himself from grinning at her infectious joy if he tried.
“Precisley.” Fiyero smirked, knowing how she would react to his next statement. “And you have the same hair colour as a fox.”
“The same colour as a brown fox,” Dorothy quickly retorted. “A swift fox perhaps! We had plenty of swift foxes back in Kansas! They’re simply adorable! And extremely clever! No matter what we did, they always managed to break into the chicken coops.” A scowl grew on her face, usually reserved for ‘Uncle Hugson’. “Uncle Henry hates them because of that. He always says he’ll shoot them next time he sees one.”
Fiyero winced, his guilt at Fenn and Voss and Larn rising up once more. How many times had he been commanded to shoot and kill innocent Animals in the guard? It made him sick to imagine Dorothy having to see that same gruesome sight back in Kansas.
“I suppose you have me there. You’re almost too clever, Dot.”
Dorothy froze at his words.
“I’m sorry.” Her monotone speech patterns returned and she quickly pulled her hands back from the illustrated map. Her back went straight and she neatly folded her hands against her stomach. She moved with an urgent and familiarity that was not dissimilar to how Gale Force members performed their training drills. Fiyero could feel Elphaba stiffen at Dorothy’s response.
“What are you sorry for?” He gently asked. He had to school the anger on his face; Dorothy wasn’t the person he was mad at. His ire belonged to whoever had done this to the young girl.
“Being too clever. Miss Barnes says I’m ‘too clever for my own good’. That’s why I get in trouble so much. I wouldn’t get the stick as much if I asked less questions and minded my own business. Anne’s—” Dorothy hesitated for half a second before her next word. If Fiyero hadn’t been looking for it he would have missed the pause. “Dad— Mr. Chapman— says the same thing. That ‘there’s certain things that I ought not to know’.”
“Well,” Fiyero paused. He had to pick his words carefully. She had to understand that she was truly safe here, with him and Elphaba. “They’re wrong. There is no such thing as too clever or smart or knowledgeable or else Fae here would be drowning in it.”
“But Elphaba is in trouble. The Wizard wanted me to kill her.”
“Is the Wizard a good man?”
Dorothy didn’t meet his eyes.
“There is no such thing as too clever. If someone like the Wizard thinks otherwise, Elphaba and I will protect you because they are wrong.” He took a breath. He had to remind himself that Dorothy didn’t need to see his anger. The Wizard, and Miss Barnes, and Mr. Chapman and the myriad of other people who had hurt Dorothy were the ones who needed to see his fury. “And if being clever was bad, what would happen to all the residents of Foxville?”
He pointed to a small settlement south of Oz in the Burzee woods. It along with Dunkiton were the newest additions to the map, penned in only in the last couple of years. “Nearly everyone in Foxville is a Fox.”
“A city full of just Foxes?” Dorothy was already bouncing on the balls of her feet. “That sounds simply wonderful!”
He would have been impressed at how fast she was able to switch between emotions if he wasn’t already deeply concerned at the ability.
He forced his voice to stay even as he spoke. “You would fit right in, lysychka.”
She turned a bright red at the nickname but as she did so a massive grin broke out on her face. “We simply must go then!”
Elphaba lightly laughed, but it was tight around the edges, clearly forced. “You should speak with Avaric then, he is much closer with Dox.”
“He’s been to Foxville?” Dorothy’s eyes managed to grow ever wider than before, and she continued to rock back and forth on the balls of her feet.
“Not that I know of. He’s good friends with Dox— the ruler of Foxville. It was their idea. A safe space for Animals to live together away from Oz’s control. I helped them a little.”
Fiyero scoffed. “More than a little. Elphaba has spent the past few years doing nothing but helping the Animals of Oz. She provides food, shelter, safety, and most importantly hope.”
Dorothy turned to face Elphaba, awe evident on her face. “That’s why all the Animals we met called you the Good Witch!”
Elphaba flushed, her cheeks turning a darker shade of green. “How about I show you the picture book section? A certain scarecrow told me you love fairy tales.”
“Oh I do!” Dorothy nodded her head like a ragdoll. “I found a collection— of Vinkun tales!— in Fiyero’s apartment and brought it all the way here! I still haven't read it yet though…”
“He has his own apartment?”
Dorothy once more nodded eagerly. “Back in the Emerald City. He used a fake name though… It was Yero… then something that rhymed with drop…”
Fiyero stayed behind, listening in on Dorothy’s excited chatter as the pair drifted towards the children’s section. He would join them in just a moment, but for now he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off the map and Doxville. They had managed to create their own sanctuary and community beyond Oz and the Wizard’s reign. They had built their own safety and home.
The thought wouldn’t leave Fiyero.
—
Whilst Dorothy tried her best at the reading, Fiyero watched Elphaba slip away to her table, books and notes. She didn’t grab a chair, instead hunching over the desk and muttering new ideas to herself. Dorothy snapped up at Elphaba’s low voice, eagerly dropping the book to join her.
“What is this?” Dorothy cocked her head as she examined the papers.
Elphaba jumped slightly at the girl’s sudden appearance but quickly schooled her features. “Some writing I’ve been doing.”
“The letters look different.”
“It’s Kultour. The language of magic. Very few people can still read or speak it.”
Dorothy nodded before going back to examining the papers. She quietly muttered to herself, mouthing along to something Fiyero couldn’t hear, and she followed the words on the page with an outstretched index finger. Then she started to read.
“Return him to… blood… and bones…” Dorothy paused at each part of the sentence— the individual nouns and articles— but translated it perfectly. Fiyero didn’t know how he knew, but he knew her every word was accurate, his own mind mysteriously supplying the exact same words and meanings to the text. She spoke faster and more confidently reading an ancient script than the Gillikan children’s stories just a pace away. She didn’t seem to notice the awe in Fiyero or Elphaba’s eyes, continuing to read on. “Make him man once more.” She was even faster, no longer pausing between the new words. “Return him to skin and flesh. Make him man once more.”
Her reading trance faded and she looked up to Elphaba. “Was that what it said?”
Elphaba couldn’t speak. Fiyero could hardly speak but he managed to force out a simple “Yes. Yes, that's what it said.” That was exactly what the papers said, Fiyero had read the exact same text that Dorothy had spoken aloud.
Dorothy nodded, clearly proud of herself, and bounded back to the books she had abandoned on the floor. Before Fiyero could join her, Elphaba grabbed his hand.
She said something, it was barely a whisper, a faint confession, but Fiyero understood every word: “Maybe this is the key to saving you.”
—
Dorothy bit her bottom lip. “That book should go right here.”
Fiyero gave a floppy armed salute, following her command. “Does this make the room feel less empty? More like it actually belongs to you?”
Dorothy nodded, stepping back to admire her newly filled bookshelf. They had spent hours collecting books from the library, Dorothy requiring that each book be “sampled” before selecting the ones she would keep in her new room. The book she had taken all the way from Fiyero’s apartment sat in the middle of all the rest, the centre piece of her new bookshelf.
She had hardly appreciated her handiwork— well more so Fiyero and Elphaba’s handiwork, her managing if anything— before her eyes slid over to the wooden wardrobe to the left of the shelf. It was a tall ornate piece with the Tigelaar vyshyvankas relief cut into the frame and delicate leaves and sunflowers relief cut into the doors.
“May I?” She nervously looked to Elphaba, leaving the rest of her question unsaid.
“Oh course. It’s your room afterall.”
Her cheeks flushed at ‘your room’ as she walked over to investigate the large cabinet.
“Oh!” Dorothy paused, her mouth agape as she peered into the open wardrobe. “There’s so much!”
There were only six or so dresses in the wardrobe, and a handful of stockings and undershirts; hardly enough to last a week but Dorothy was amazed at the amount.
“Seven dresses! That’s more than Anne and I have combined! Oh, they’re simply beautiful. They look fit for a princess!”
Elphaba shared a glance with Fiyero and he nodded. She didn’t need to ask him. It was her castle now, everything in it was hers to use— or share.
“They’re yours,” Elphaba said. Dorothy’s eyes grew wide but she couldn't seem to bring herself to speak.
“This is your room,” Elphaba continued. “Everything in here belongs to you.”
Dorothy’s voice was small: “I can keep it?”
“Yes. You can keep it. No one can take it away from you.”
“What if they try to? They always take everything.”
Elphaba seemed just as confused as Fiyero at the new revelation but she continued on.
“They will have to get through me.” Another quick glance. “And Fiyero. It is yours— to keep— and nobody can change that.”
“Really? You’ll stand up for me?”
“I will always stand up for you, Dorothy. Nobody will be able to get past the Wicked Witch to hurt you.”
Tears bloomed in Dorothy’s eyes before she ran over to bury herself in Elphaba’s chest. With how physically affectionate she was becoming Fiyero was uncertain if she would ever leave either of their sides. Not that he would complain— quite the opposite really.
“Thank you.” Dorothy’s voice was weak and shaky as she spoke.
Elphaba rubbed circles in Dorothy’s back for a moment before she spoke again. “We really shouldn’t put those new clothes to waste. Why don’t we try on one of the princess dresses?”
Dorothy pulled her head out to nod, her eyes still shining with unshed tears.
“What do you think of the yellow one? It looks just your size.”
Dorothy once more nodded as Elphaba grabbed the dress from the wardrobe. Even though there were half a dozen dresses in the cabinet, only one was Dorothy’s size. No two dresses were the same size, ranging from designs for girls younger than Dorothy up to styles for university age young women. It wasn’t intended as a closet for one person but a set of back ups for if one of the Tigelaar women needed a new dress.
The yellow dress fit Dorothy perfectly. It was in the Vinkun court style with a structured bodice and a loose skirt starting above her hips. And just like the pajamas she had worn the night before, the dress was also decorated with the Tigelaar vyshyvankas. Geometric blue diamonds were embroidered along the yoke of the piece once more labelling the young girl as Fiyero’s family.
“We should match!” Dorothy spun around in the dress watching it puff out under her as she spoke. “I’m sure there’s a princess dress for Fae as well! Not that you’re not already wearing a princess dress! But a Vinkun Princess dress.”
Elphaba smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“That sounds lovely.” Fiyero interrupted before she could turn down Dorothy’s offer. He knew she didn’t view herself as worthy of Fiyero’s elaborate gifts. “Why don’t you show Avaric? I’m sure he’ll love your new princess dress.”
“What about Fae’s dress?” Dorothy didn’t pause her spinning to speak, instead bumping into the foot of the bed as she twirled. She stumbled slightly to the side— either from her clumsiness or dizziness Fiyero wasn’t sure— before resuming her circles.
“I’ll help her.” He grabbed Dorothy’s shoulders to stop her from hitting him. She swayed slightly at the sudden loss of motion. “We’ll show you the dress afterwards.”
Dorothy tried to spin again in Fiyero’s hold. It only half worked. “Oh! And you should wear a prince… well whatever princes wear!”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll find something.”
—
Finding Avaric hadn’t been difficult. Dorothy and Fiyero simply followed the trail of disasters that Toto always seemed to leave in his wake; small clumps of russet fur, lightly chewed carpet edges, and tables and furniture slightly shifted from their original positions. When they did find them in one of the countless chambers in Kiamo Ko’s halls Dorothy had instantly bounded over to the pair, thrilled to show off her newfound Princess Dress.
And now, for the first time in months, the first time since that day, Elphaba and Fiyero had a proper moment together. A private second where it was just the two of them.
“Can you…” Elphaba trailed off, turning around to show her untied back to Fiyero. The cream dress hung loose, the lacing only half done. “I can’t quite reach it.”
His floppy fingers were just barely nimble enough to tie the lacing. Elphaba didn’t comment on the straw that became twisted into the knot.
“How do I look? Is it fancy enough for Dorothy?”
It certainly was fancy enough for Fiyero. She was stunning. Like Dorothy’s, the dress was in the traditional Vinkun court style, but hers was much more mature. The off shoulder neckline pulled all of Fiyero’s attention to her chest which the piece perfectly showed off. The light cream complimented her complexion and the amber details along the waistline drew out the golden flakes in her eyes. She wore a matching headpiece, a tall crown made out of Vinkun sunflowers, the flowers colours perfectly matching the yellow of Dorothy’s dress. Her dress also prominently displayed the Tigelaar vyshyvankas, embroidered along the side panels of the piece, leading all the way up to her shoulders and neck. He almost felt a pang of disappointment that they didn’t continue past the fabric up onto her skin as tattoos. Unlike Dorothy, Elphaba understood the importance and meaning of Vinkun vyshyvankas. She knew exactly what she was doing, proudly displaying his family’s patterns.
“Elphaba…” If he wasn’t a scarecrow, he would have choked on his own breath at her beauty. “You’re—”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“Gorgeous,” he finished. He wasn’t lying; the dress hugged her frame, showing off her best features, and the lowered neckline combined with the off-shoulder straps truly left him breathless. She was stunning. “You’re always gorgeous, but this dress… It just… The colour… Your eyes…” he trailed off completely and utterly awestruck by just how incredible she was. She was simply beautiful. Simply and truly, the most beautiful person he had ever seen.
Dorothy was right. She truly was a princess.
Elphaba blushed. “Something tells me that it’s not just my eyes you’re looking at right now.”
A heat rose to Fiyero’s cheeks as she grabbed his hand.
“Perhaps…” She paused to rub her hand along his arm, up to his shoulder, where the most detailed of his own diamonds had been. He shivered at the touch, a strangely human warmth growing in his lower torso. “If you were human again…”
“What precisely would you do?” He could smell the flowers in her hair, but he was more overwhelmed by the scent of her. Her hot breath on his collar sent a chill down his spine, but the warm feeling continued to grow down towards his thighs.
“Do I need to tell you?” Her lips danced across his shoulders, speaking into him. His grip on her tightened; he could feel every divot and bone in her waist. She was also warm at his touch, and his hands felt more human than they had ever before as they explored her back.
He could practically feel the straw in his arms forming into bones and muscles, but he was more focused on the woman before him; her tongue had started to trace circles along his neck. He seemed to turn to flesh and skin under her touch, his newfound nerves sending an overwhelm of sensations throughout his body, pooling down into his hips and waist.
Elphaba’s hands reached around to his lower back, cupping him in her embrace, her hot tongue continuing to travel up his chin pausing to trace one of his many scars. It was one of the few not from his time in the guard— or for being a witch lover— but from that day in the poppy field with the cub. He reached his arms down, pulling them closer together. Her torso also burned, pressed up against his.
He could feel his heart beat for the first time since waking up in the cornfield and it raced, stirred on by Elphaba’s own. They moved in unison, his hands reaching down to her thighs pulling her up higher so her face could be level with his as her lips explored his jaw. Her legs instinctively wrapped around him resting on his hip bones as they formed from straw.
He could feel her blood pulsing through her legs and torso, beating against his own. His muscles tensed as he held her up, burlap turning to flesh and skin. She traced up his back, straw and fabric transforming into muscle and bones under her touch, ribs and obliques building under his skin as it turned from cotton to tissues.
He shivered as she held his shoulderblades but his grasp didn’t waver, holding her up off the floor and against him. The height between them was no longer relevant as her lips met his messy and desperate. They were level, equal, each hungrily exploring the other, his lips turning to flesh. His were chapped and scarred against Elphaba’s soft mouth but she didn’t show any signs of hesitancy,
She continued to explore him, her hands finally reaching his spine, fingers tracing his muscles, vertebrates forming under her touch. She bit down on his lower lip, suppressing a moan from escaping his throat. He shook at her touch but forced his legs to stay stable, his thighs taut as he felt her heartbeat in his torso. She traced his spine sending a shiver down to his core and—
He nearly went blind from the pain, his vision blinking in and out.
“Fiyero?” She pulled back, her voice hoarse and breathless.
It burned. Everything in Fiyero burned.
He nearly dropped Elphaba, his arms shaking from the sheer pain.
His spine ached. His entire body screamed at him in anguish.
“Fiyero?” Elphaba’s voice was desperate, afraid.
He couldn’t think, the heat tearing through his back and towards the rest of his body.
He placed her on the bed, his limbs giving in to the pain, unable to hold her up any longer.
His muscles spasmed at the pain. It was too much.
“Fiyero!” She reached up to grab him and the pain blossomed again, becoming worse than ever before.
He couldn’t think, he couldn't see, his pain consuming all.
She pulled away, lying on the bed under him.
The pain dissipated.
He returned to straw.