Work Text:
It always begins the same way. This haunting image that forms, and she can’t look away. She can’t move, just an observer, unable to fight, unable to intervene.
Elphaba has had this dream, this nightmare for weeks now. It always starts and ends the same way, and she can’t do anything. Powerless and the worst part is…
She knows it’s a dream each and every time, but it still shakes her to her core.
It still rattles her, as she is forced to watch Fiyero be taken by the Gale Force. Hearing Glinda cry and shout, her mind trying to explain what had happened. Fiyero refused to fully speak of the situation, the events that caused his death.
So her mind would fill in the gaps for him. The Gale Force dragging him away, his pristine boots digging into the yellow brick as he attempts to shake them off.
But there are too many, one slamming their fist into his stomach, causing him to cry out, his breath ragged. His perfect hair falling into his face, hiding the brief moments of panic, of fear.
Before it would shift, the mask slammed down on his face as he gave a look of defiance, of calm.
They would shout, scream, demanding where she was, and she could not answer. She was just a passenger, unable to properly speak. The dream strapping her into a position of inaction. Inactivity.
He would just stand silent, the only noise was his flesh being torn, the bursts of sound that would erupt from him due to the pain.
Fiyero did not ever, not once give her location.
And for that, he suffered.
He suffered and she couldn’t do anything. Forever to be long gone, her face in a book that did something horrific to him in an attempt to save him.
Like clockwork the torture began, she memorized every injury, every incident from this reoccurring dream. Like the universe was torturing her in her own special way. Demanding she watch, and learn from her terrible mistake.
But if she had stayed, if she had fought…what would have been done? Surely they both would have died, or perhaps worse.
Bones snap in the air, like the sounds of crunching twigs, his body slamming to the floor from a boot hitting his ankle.
It was the reason he limped after all.
Blood splatters out of flesh, his face twisted in pain as they continue their onslaught. She cannot look away, she cannot close her eyes.
And she only is allowed peace when they slam him onto that pole. Placing a burlap bag over his head and tying the ropes.
“This is what happens when you side with Wickedness. Let all Oz know what a traitor you are, Tigelaar.” A cruel voice whispers in the air and Elphaba can’t take it anymore.
She screams silently, but there is no sound. She begs, pleads for this nightmare to be over. Please oh please. Stop it, stop!
“Elphaba…” the injured man rasps as the guards tighten the ropes, his battered body draped in odd directions. His once pristine green uniform stained with blood and dirt. Straw sticks to his body, dipped in crimson.
“Elphaba…”
She can’t take it any more.
“Elphaba….”
The voice continues to ring in her ears. The death toll of her lover, his last final words slipping off his lips as life drains from his very essence.
Guilt and horror hits her like terrible flames. Licking at her skin, burning her alive. Festering like rot.
“Elphaba!”
The dream shifts and shudders, hands on her shoulders and she cries out. Sweat sticks to her face, drenching her silken nightgown. Words tumble out of her mouth, but they are incoherent, incomprehensible.
Weathered hands touch her skin, and she nearly screams at the contact. No sound comes out, her mind a haze as she feels someone getting closer. She trashes in her bed, blankets flying as she whimpers and cries.
His broken face seared into her mind, unable to keep that image her subconscious created. She had not seen his brutal death, but her mind still wished to remind her what had been done.
“Fae, fae please, please look at me,” A voice begs, too familiar as she pants and curls into herself, her hair sticking to her face. A sheen of sweat glimmering like morning dew.
“Please, please stop. Don’t hurt him,” she whispers feverishly, still caught in the dream. “I did this, I did this…”
The bed dips as something crawls closer. She can see scarred flesh, gently touch her trembling flesh. Her eyes clenched shut as she attempted to beg the universe to stop torturing her.
“I’m here, I’m here,” the voice whispers, it’s soft, quiet. How it soothes her aching heart, like a warm balm on her cracked and frayed flesh.
She feels a hand gently lift her chin, eyes flying open, hot tears spilling down her cheeks. She pants heavily, as eyes interlock with one’s so special. Deep blue eyes hit hers, with flecks of brown from the spell that changed him.
His face is scarred, his body is weak but she doesn’t care.
“Fae, breathe. In…and out.” he hispers and she has to force her mind to acknowledge him. Fiyero. He was here. Alive.
Lungs gasp for air, realizing she was having trouble breathing. The haze of sleep is finally starting to disperse. She can see him more clearly, his lips turned to a look of worry, his brows pinching together showing that little ridge that she adored.
“There we go, there we go,” he soothes, a strong hand on her back, gently rubbing against her spine.
She gulps for air, her hands still shaking, her body trembling.
“F…Fiyero.” She breathes and he hums quietly, eyes half lidded.
“I’m here, I’m here. You’re safe, you are safe.”
He always said that, every time she woke from this dream he was right there. Right beside her assuring her that she was okay, that whatever was plaguing her was gone. In its place a soothing voice and gentle hands.
Elphaba gives a shaky breath, her body leaning against Fiyero’s frame, feeling his arms wrap around her. His head dipping so his lips can touch her forehead, gently placing a kiss on her hot skin.
“Is it the same dream?”
She doesn’t have the energy to lie, so she just mutely nods, her hands gripping the quilted blanket. She is back in their home, their little oasis on the outskirts of Oz.
It had taken her years to return Fiyero to his true body, no longer made of hay and fabric. But the Grimmerie was not a kind object. The spell had kept him alive, but now he was forever marked by it.
The shimmering scars, his body weak, his eyes haunted.
But he was here. Human. Alive.
He breathes into her hair, hands holding hers. His body draped around her like a blanket. “I’m sorry Fae.”
Elphaba shakes her head, finally finding her voice. “No, it’s…this is my punishment.” She whispers, her words feeling like bile on her tongue.
Fiyero makes a noise shifting, pulling away from her so he can properly look at her. His chest is bare, covered in scars from the torture. This painting of death is forever etched on his skin. Thick scars wrap around his neck and wrists, reminding her of what had been done.
“You know that’s not true. You did not cause this. You saved me,” Fiyero’s voice is gentle, but firm. “You have to stop blaming yourself.”
“You died, Fiyero! You died and I couldn’t do anything! I just ran away, and then…when I tried to fix it, I only made it worse.”
Fiyero’s hands reach for her face, and she flinches away, eyes blurring as tears start to form. Fiyero stills, hands going to his lap.
“You did not do this,” He then grabs at her hands, nearly startling the green witch. Her eyes wide as his face is twisted in a look of determination. He then places her hands on one of the long scars across his torso. Forcing her to feel the thick scarring that interrupts his smooth flesh.
“Did you cause this? Were you the one to stab me? To drag your blade across my skin? Elphaba, you did not hold the sword that did this,” Fiyero whispers fiercely, Elphaba turning her head away from him.
“Had I not ran-“
“If you did not run, you would have been KILLED.”
The atmosphere grows tense, as he gently moves her hands away from his scarred flesh, this time having them cup his face. Leaning into her touch. Her fingers tracing the scruff on his chin.
“I would die…a million times, if it means letting you live.”
And he means it. Elphaba knows he does.
She stares into his eyes, deep pools that look at her in such a way she cannot describe. Adoration, love, yearning. She still could not comprehend why he feels the way he does.
Elphaba breathes out shakily, “But I stained you.”
“Let me be stained then. For it means I will forever have your hands on my soul. On my heart.” He tells her, poetic as always.
“Please do not hold this guilt for me, I am here. Alive. No longer your floppy scarecrow. We live together. Look at this place we made for ourselves.” He gestures to the cozy cabin they built, all for them.
They made themselves a home, a place to be together in.
“Why can’t you allow yourself to be happy?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know how to be happy,” she whispers fearfully, and Fiyero shifts from the bed once more. His face inches from hers.
“We can learn, together then. One step at a time. Here I’ll show you one way that makes me happy.” He leans forward, and places a gentle kiss to her lips. How her magic swells at his touch, feeling it thrum under her skin. Begging for more.
She doesn’t pull away, instead leans into the kiss. Letting him take the lead. He was the romantic one after all. With gentle kisses, warm touches. He knew how to make her skin spark like a live wire, but never pushing the boundaries.
He was patient and kind, and she didn’t know what she did to deserve someone like him.
Fiyero pulls away, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. His eyes soft as he gazes on her, like one would do to a magnificent painting. Elphaba can feel a bit of warmth crawl on her face from his gaze. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, hand gently squeezing her thigh, their faces so close she can feel his gentle breath.
“Stop it,” She breathes and he hums, shaking his head.
“I’ll say it until I’m blue in the face, you are so beautiful. And loved, and cared for. You deserve every bit of peace and kindness.”
She swallows, feeling tears once more starting to form in her eyes.
“I say this, because no one has said this to you and you deserve to hear it. I love you so much, and I will follow you to the ends of the earth.”
Her heart swells, “You stupid man.”
Fiyero’s laugh echoes through the room, his chest bobbing up and down as he lays his head on her lap. Elphaba reached to thread her fingers into his hair. Feeling the soft strands against her fingertips.
“I’ll be here. I’ll be here when you have nightmares that choke you. When you feel that doubt and self loathing bubble from within. When you need a gentle hand to soothe, I will always be here.” Fiyero assures her and she is at a loss of words.
How does one compete with such a statement?
She dips her head, gently placing a kiss to his forehead. Hearing him hum softly, hands wrapping around her waist as he nestled into her stomach.
“I love you, Fiyero Tigelaar.”
“And I love you, Elphaba Thropp.”
She smiles, shaking her head hearing the muffled statement. She knew it would not be an instant cure, her heart bore so many open wounds. So many scars that ached and dripped with agony.
But at least he was here. With needle and thread, patching up any wound that she bore. Not once complaining, or making it seem like he did not wish to be here.
He stayed by her side, despite all that happened. Still loyal, still loving.
This was love after all. Enduring and patient. Willing to deal with all of her, even the terribly messy parts. Her heart feels a little bit lighter as she shuffles back into the bed. Her skin no longer throbs from the terrible dream.
Fiyero follows her, shifting so they are looking at each other. His eyes are half-lidded, a gentle smile on his face. It’s an expression that she adores, her hand gently reaching out to trace his face.
Memorizing all his features as if she was worried he might disappear.
He leans into her touch, eyes never leaving hers.
They breathe in tandem, one entity forever intertwined. Both holding deep scars in their hearts, but willing to heal and take care of each other for that was how love was.
To be loved, is to change.
And they forever would be changed.