Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Elphaba doesn’t think it’s possible to feel more than she feels in this moment. Her body is spent, her sweaty hair plastered to her forehead and clinging to her neck.

Moments earlier the pain had been excruciating but now the shrieking of her muscles has faded to a dull throbbing pain. Her rapt attention is fixed on the baby laying on her chest. On his perfect wrinkled face and his wide blue eyes that stare up at her in wonder.

His skin is green. Just like hers.

Tears pool in her eyes. Practically from the moment that she discovered he was coming she had feared he would take after her.

He’s her son and Elphaba has loved him from the moment the idea of him had taken root. Ever since she and had Fiyero first suspected that they had made a miracle that night they had spent together in her hideaway in the forest, she has loved this child. He was created from love. A piece of their happily ever after that they had both thought had been lost to them forever, suddenly gifted back to them.

But the world was not a kind or gentle place. How could she allow her child to experience all the cruelties that she’s endured?

All the magic flowing through her had lapped at her subconscious tempting her to take fate into her own hands. To protect him from the hatred of the world. But she had scolded herself for even thinking it. This child was a miracle. The last piece of Fiyero’s humanity. A child born of true love. Besides even with all the best of her intentions her magic had only caused harm to everyone it touched.

Staring into her baby’s trusting eyes she is overwhelmed with relief that she hadn’t tried to alter him.

So, what if he’s like her?

So, what if he’s green?

“He’s perfect,” Fiyero breathes out. He stole the words right out of Elphaba’s mouth. Her son was perfect. Their son was perfect.  

Elphaba eyes turn to her husband. Fiyero’s golden-brown eyes are burnished with unshed tears. In his new form he cannot cry. But somehow his eyes can still shimmer. Her heart aches with how full it feels by how much love and awe she sees reflected in his eyes. That she still has him here to share this moment with. 

With his burlap hand covered in a buttery-soft leather glove he ever so gently strokes the apple of their son’s cheek. Elphaba was somewhat of an expert when it came to Fiyero’s expressions. But as she watches his face soften with a tenderness that is for their child alone, she falls even more in love with him.

Every time she thinks she couldn’t possibly love Fiyero more he manages to nudge the benchmark further. Her heart has never been so full as it is right now.

Their child will have the strength to face down the cruelties of this world because he possesses a magic that she never had.

His father’s unwavering love.

And his mother’s.

“You did wonderful, my love,” Scratchy lips press a kiss to her forehead and a pleasant shiver rushes through her. Elphaba never thought that the drag of burlap across her skin could be anything other than unpleasant. But now her body only associates it with Fiyero’s touch and reacts accordingly.

Fiyero tenderly brushes her hair out of her face and kisses the tip of her freckled nose, the apple of her cheek and the corner of her mouth. She has gone so much of her life starved for touch and for love. Her sweet prince had made it his mission to ensure she never endures another day feeling unloved. Elphaba nuzzles his nose and kisses him back, reaching up to stroke his face.

“Master Fiyero, please do try and keep still,” Dulcibear fusses at him from her stool, where she’s bent with her sowing needle over his dangling left hand.

Disgruntled Fiyero pulls a fraction of an inch away from Elphaba’s lips and huffs, “Have a heart, Dulcibear. I’ve just become a father! And I would like to convey my deepest congratulations and appreciations upon my wife.”

“That would be easier with a functioning left hand,” Dulcibear harrumphs as she tugs his arm him back within her reach.    

“I have a son!” Fiyero beams. “What use do I have for a hand? When I have a son?

Elphaba chuckles. “Perhaps to better hold your son for the first time?”

“Oh.” Fiyero straightens up slightly. “Right.” then he flings his hand back toward the bespectacled bear. “You may proceed, Dulcibear.”

Elphaba strokes his cheek fondly. “I’m sorry about your hand.”

“Think nothing of it, my darling. I felt so helpless as you suffered. I only hope that mangling my hand helped you in some way.”

The tears she’s been holding in refuse to be kept at bay any longer, they spill in a hot rush down her cheeks. “I would have been lost without you.”

Fiyero leans back into her space, dragging a disgruntled Dulcibear along with him. He tilts her chin up, “Hey, now what’s this?” he swipes away her tears with his gloved hand. “Don’t cry, pretty girl. Haven’t you heard? You and me? We’re always going to be together.”

Dulcibear clears her throat and Fiyero rolls his eyes toward her old nurse then shoots Elphaba a playful wink as he leans back to allow the bear to continue her stitching.

His mouth pulls into a pout and his knee bobs impatiently. Elphaba grins at the sight. She nuzzles into her baby’s downy curls and breathes deep trying to memorize the smell.

His dewy skin is warm, his heartbeat rapid against her chest. As she drinks in these little lifechanging details she is struck by an errant pang of sorrow.

Fiyero will never be able to feel this. He feels love that she knows without a doubt. But his body is numb to the world around him. Fiyero can no longer feel the cool of a breeze or the warmth of the sun. He’s never hungry or tired or weak or in pain anymore.

By some miracle because of the magic flowing through her, the same magic that spared his life he can still feel Elphaba. The warmth of her touch, the press of her body, the silk of her lips. But he cannot feel anyone or anything else.

Fiyero had been so pleased with himself when he had bartered for his leather gloves, he had explained to her that with them he could hold their child without risking scratching his skin. He would hold their child. But he wouldn’t be able to feel this. The warmth and weight of their child in his arms. And it was unjust that a man made up of so much love and devotion would be denied that.

“There now,” Dulcibear proclaimed sitting upright. “Good as new.”

Fiyero waggled his fingers and shot the nurse a brilliant smile. “Better than new. Thank you, Dulci-dear. I’ve never seen finer stitching. And I grew up in a palace.”

The old bear swatted her paw at him affectionately, “Flatterer.” She lumbered to her feet and pressed a kiss to Elphaba’s temple. “Rest now, dear one. And call for me if you should need me.”

Elphaba caught her paw in her hand and kissed it. “Thank you, Dulcibear. For always taking care of me. All I know about mothering…is directly due to you.”

Dulcibear’s throat bobs and she kisses Elphaba’s head once more, “That has been the great honour of my life, dear one,” she turned to Fiyero and rested her paw on his shoulder. “You take good care of my girl. See to it that she rests for now. And see if you can coax her to eat something.”

Fiyero nods and rises from his chair. “Wait, it’s dark and it’s raining. I shall fetch an umbrella and have someone walk you home.”

Dulcibear chuckles. “Dear boy, I am a bear. I don’t require anyone to walk me anywhere. But if you can spare it, I’ll borrow your umbrella.”

Ever the gentleman Fiyero gathers an umbrella and walks her to the door. When he returns his eyes are only for Elphaba and their son.

He perches on the edge of his chair. “Can I hold him?”

Elphaba is loath to part from her son but how could she deny Fiyero this feeling? She suddenly aches to see their son in his arms. Shifting the baby, she lifts him into Fiyero’s waiting arms. “Mind his head.”

“He’s so tiny,” Fiyero marvels as he tucks their son into his chest. The baby fusses, shifting in Fiyero’s grasp. “Oh, shh-shh. It’s alright my heart. Daddy’s here.” The baby’s eyes flick open and gaze up at Fiyero in recognition.

Throughout her pregnancy Fiyero had spent hours talking to her belly and singing every lullaby under the sun to their unborn child. And almost every time their son was unsettled within her, it was Fiyero’s voice that managed to sooth him. The baby latches onto his finger and Fiyero laughs, “That’s right my little Liir, I’m your daddy.”

Liir. An old Vinkus word for heart. They had settled on it a few days ago when Fiyero had declared that though he didn’t have a heart in his body anymore it didn’t mean he didn’t have one, his heart now lived outside his body, in Elphaba and in their son.

After a second Fiyero goes impossibly still. “Elphaba…I can feel him.”

Tears spill from Elphaba’s eyes. “What?”

“Is it because there’s magic in his blood? I don’t—oh!”

Elphaba’s smile drops. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Fiyero rubs his chest with his free hand and cradles Liir close with his other arm. “I don’t know. It’s strange—woah!” He bolts upright from his chair and staggers back.

“Fiyero what’s happening? Are you alright.”

Fiyero lurches again with a strangled shout then stumbles away from the bed a few feet. Then he sinks to the ground doubling over with a pained groan.

Elphaba throws herself after him, her limbs were weak, but she claws her way to him. Fiyero’s face is pressed to the ground, he’s whimpering, shaking like a leaf. Elphaba brushes her hands across his back and through his hair and straw spills between her fingers. Fiyero goes still, his quivering ceasing as he straightens up on his knees.

The first thing she notices is that that Liir is safe, though slightly squashed in his father’s protective arms. She sighs in relief. Liir’s finger is still stubbornly curled around his father’s glove.

“What in Oz’s name just happened?”

Fiyero pushes back his hat, his burlap was split, and straw spills out of him. Elphaba gasps covering her mouth with her hand. He tears off his glove and stares in wonder at his hand made of flesh and bone.

Elphaba sobs and rocks forward on her knees pushing the burlap and straw away so she can catch his face in her hands. Smooth warm skin with just a hint of stubble kisses her palms. He looks just as he did the last time, she saw him alive, with one exception. His eyes were still golden-brown.

“He healed me,” Fiyero gasps, “I could feel him. All the love I have for him it just welled up inside me when I held him. And it felt like he reached out with a wave of it and answered back.”

Elphaba wraps her arms around Fiyero and kisses Liir’s forehead. And then she kisses Fiyero’s lips. His nose, his cheek, his jaw, and his chin. She laughs and presses her face into his neck and breathes him in. Reaching down she cradles Liir’s little cheek and whispers, “My beautiful, wonderful boy.”

It didn’t matter that she felt so weak that she was trembling all over. She had her arms wrapped tight around her family. Around the pieces of her heart that now lived outside her body. And she was never letting go.

Chapter Text

Fiyero’s heart is like a drum pounding in his chest. Blood whooshes in his ears and every square inch of him is tingling, from the roots of his hair to the tips of his toes. His lungs burn as he drags in a full breath and he lets out a startled, exhilarated whoop of laughter.

Elphaba fingers tenderly trace his face, relearning his features. Every other sensation in him goes quiet and all he can feel is the spark of her touch, the silk of her skin. His full body shudders as he surrenders himself for her careful appraisal.

All this time he had been so grateful for the small mercy that he could still feel her touch in his new form. But now confronted with the warm reality of her, he realizes that all this time he’s been touching her through dulled senses.

Elphaba replaces her fingers with her lips and kisses him all over. Fiyero sucks in a breath at the first touch of her lips and clutches her fiercely to him with his free arm. He kisses her skin, nuzzles his face into her neck, breathes in the scent of her hair, even the sweat on her skin is intoxicating.

A tiny gurgle interrupts them and Fiyero remembers the bundle  tucked in the crook of his arm. He pulls away only far enough to stare down at his little child.

Tears spill from his eyes as he gazes down at him. Fiyero bends his head and breathes in his scent, then reverently presses a kiss to the crown of his head. When he looks up Elphaba’s eyes are full of joyful tears. Tugging the glove off his left hand with his teeth he catches every tear and cradles her face.

“Thank you,” he rasps, his voice raw with emotion.

Elphaba shakes her head. “I didn’t—I couldn’t—it was Liir.”

Fiyero tilts her chin up, tenderly so she will look at him. “You’re the one who saw through me. The only one who ever saw me, and you saved me. In every way it’s possible to be saved. You saved me. You’ve given me your heart and a child. Thank you.” He draws her close and kisses her mouth, slow and reverent, letting himself savour every second of it. “I would have been lost without you.”

Elphaba is trembling all over and so was he, but as her trembling intensifies, Fiyero comes to his senses. She had just delivered his child.

Abruptly, he passes their baby back to Elphaba. When she looks at him questioningly Fiyero just scoops the pair of them up in his arms, “The floor is no place for you, my love.”

He cradles Elphaba to his chest and carries her and their child back to the bed. Setting them down tenderly he draws the covers up around Elphaba and tucks her in hoping to soothe her shivering and rubs his hands up and down her arms.

Beside their bed is a washstand with a pitcher and basin. Fiyero tips the pitcher into the basin, dampens a cloth and rings it out. Then he sits on the edge of the bed and delicately washes the tears from Elphaba’s face.

Liir gurgles from his place on her chest and Fiyero smirks and strokes the baby’s hair. The baby catches Fiyero’s pinky in his tiny fist and smacks his lips.

Elphaba eases forward, “I think he’s hungry.”

Fiyero helps her sit up and props himself behind her back so she can lean against him as she nurses Liir. His arms wrap around her middle, squeezing her gently, mindful of the ordeal that her body has just been through. Elphaba curls her free hand possessively around his forearm, squeezing him back, and lets her head fall back against his shoulder.

He never wants to leave this bed. This perfect moment. But distantly Dulcibear’s voice nags him insistently about his promise to make Elphaba eat. She needs to keep her strength up. Reluctantly he disentangles himself and goes to the kitchen.

He brings her a platter of pears, figs and honeycomb and thick slices of pumpernickel bread slathered in goat cheese. In between trading kisses, he feeds her bites of food. Her eyes get droopy, and her smile turns dopey and syrupy sweet.  

Liir lays sleeping in her arms contentedly. “Come back to bed,” she beckons.

Fiyero rises from his chair and pulls off his shirt. A cascade of wheat and hay spills from underneath his shirt. He's been in such a lovestruck, euphoric state he had barely noticed the irritating stuffing beneath his shirt.

“I’ll clean that up,” Fiyero rushes to say, very aware of how his hormonal pregnant wife had felt about him shedding straw all over their cottage in the last few months.

Elphaba’s silvery laugh tinkles in his ears. “I don’t care.”

Her eyes glitter with love and laughter now. But with her pregnancy her moods were ever shifting.

“You say that now,” Fiyero says as he gathers the broom and beings sweeping up the mess, “just wait until it’s all over your bed.”

Elphaba eyes his bare chest and chiseled torso up and down appreciatively, then leans back in their bed with a mischievous grin. “You’d best wash up then,” she says gesturing towards the washstand with a playful flick of her fingers.  

Fiyero chews on his lip, trying and failing to hold back his smirk. Going to the washstand he pours himself a generous amount of water. Then cups some water in his hands and splashes it over his face, he sighs when he finds that it is still blissfully warm.

The water wets his hair and sluices down his shoulders. And for the first time in nearly nine months, he feels the grit and dust finally leave him. It feels amazing.

Turning toward Elphaba he decides to give her a little show. Soaping up his hands he lathers up his arms and torso with an exaggerated slowness then shoots her a wink when he catches her watching him through, hungry, half-lidded eyes. Then taking the rest of the pitcher he tips it over his head. The water flows over his head and streams down his body, washing away the suds.

Elphaba’s eyes glitter with surprise and she cackles with laughter, “You’re definitely cleaning that up.”

Fiyero arches a playful brow, “Yes, dear,” he says as he toes off his boots and loosens his belt.

“F—Fiyero. We have a bathtub,” she sputters, her face flushing.

“But If I was in there, then I wouldn’t get to see that pretty blush of yours.”

Despite her weak protest she pays rapt attention as he finishes his bath and towels himself dry.

He pulls on a soft pair of sleep pants then mops the floor and hangs up his wet clothes.  

As he moves toward the bed, he pulls his sleep shirt over his head. Elphaba makes a disgruntled noise and tugs on the edge of it.

“Lose the shirt.”

Fiyero arches an eyebrow in amusement and discards his shirt. “Ah, so you did miss the view, huh?”

Elphaba settles her warm palm on the centre of his chest. “Whether it’s under burlap or bare skin, it’s your heart that I’m after, Fiyero Tigelaar. And if you ever doubt that then you really are brainless.”

Fiyero ducks his head to kiss and nuzzle her ear, “But it’s a perk right?”

Elphaba chuckles and shoves his face away. “Come to bed. I can barely keep my eyes open.”

Fiyero slips into bed beside her and carefully takes a slumbering Liir from her and settles the baby on his chest.

Elphaba curls into him, tangling their legs and pillowing her head on his shoulder. Her right arm is draped over Fiyero’s chest, with her hand settled on Liir’s back. While her left hand slips into his hair, her nails drag soothingly across Fiyero’s scalp, “Hmm. Don’t ever stop,” he murmurs, as he sinks into her touch. 

She falls asleep within minutes, but Fiyero feels electrified. He’s drinking in every heartbeat of his son, every deep, satisfied breath of his wife. He knows his body will eventually give out now that he’s mortal again, but for the moment he feels far too alive to sleep.