Chapter Text
The Shiz training yard was quiet in the late afternoon, emptied of students who had finally decided they’d had enough of sweating through drills and pretending they enjoyed physical education.
Elphaba liked it best this way.
She sat on the stone steps near the edge of the courtyard, a book open on her lap, though she hadn’t turned the page in several minutes. The breeze was warm. The air smelled faintly of cut grass and chalk dust.
And Fiyero was sprawled beside her, his jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up, basking in the sun like he didn’t have a care in the world.
Elphaba told herself she was reading.
She told herself she was not staring at his arms.
The tattoos were impossible to ignore.
Blue ink curved along his forearm in precise geometric patterns—diamonds, lines, shapes that looked almost ceremonial. They disappeared beneath the edge of his sleeve, hinting at more she hadn’t seen.
She’d noticed them before, of course. Everyone had. But today, with the sunlight catching the ink and making it glow faintly against his skin, the curiosity finally outweighed her instinct to keep quiet.
“…Can I ask you something?” she said.
Fiyero turned his head toward her, one arm folded behind his head. “You usually do.”
She shot him a look. “Not like this.”
That got his attention. He sat up slightly. “Okay. Ask.”
She hesitated—then nodded toward his arm. “Your tattoos. I’ve… always wondered.”
He followed her gaze. For a moment, his expression shifted—something softer, more thoughtful than his usual easy grin.
“These?” he said.
“Yes,” she replied quickly, then added, “You don’t have to answer if it’s personal.”
Fiyero smiled faintly. “They are personal.”
Her shoulders stiffened. “Oh. Then—”
“But I don’t mind telling you.”
She looked up at him, surprised.
He rolled his sleeve a little higher, exposing more of the ink. “They’re Vinkus markings. Traditional. Each one means something.”
Elphaba leaned in despite herself, the book forgotten entirely. “What do they mean?”
“This one,” he said, tapping a diamond near his wrist, “is for family. Where you come from, even if you leave.”
Her chest tightened.
“And this one,” he continued, tracing a line upward, “means endurance. Survival.”
She swallowed. “That seems… fitting.”
He glanced at her, eyes warm. “You think so?”
“I know so.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The closeness felt charged—quiet, delicate, like a breath held too long.
“…Can I?” Elphaba asked suddenly, gesturing vaguely toward his arm.
Fiyero blinked. “Can you what?”
“Touch it,” she said, then hurried on, flustered. “The tattoo. Not— you. I mean— I am touching you, technically, but—”
He laughed softly. Not teasing. Fond.
“Yeah,” he said gently. “You can.”
She reached out slowly, giving him time to change his mind.
Her fingers brushed his skin—warm, solid—tracing the edge of the blue ink with reverent care. Magic hummed faintly under her touch, not hers, not his—just there.
Fiyero went very still.
Her touch was light, careful, like she was afraid of breaking something.
“These are beautiful,” she murmured. “They tell a story.”
“So do you,” he said without thinking.
She froze.
He realized what he’d said and cleared his throat, suddenly flustered. “I mean— you’re always carrying so much history with you. It shows.”
Elphaba withdrew her hand, heart racing. “Is that a good thing?”
“I think it’s one of the bravest things I’ve ever seen.”
She looked at him then—really looked—and the way he was watching her made her breath hitch.
For a moment, the space between them felt impossibly small.
Fiyero shifted closer, lowering his voice. “If you ever wanted one… a tattoo, I mean… I think it’d suit you.”
She huffed a quiet laugh. “I can’t imagine Galinda’s reaction.”
He grinned. “Worth it.”
The sun dipped lower, painting the yard gold. Elphaba closed her book at last.
“Thank you,” she said. “For telling me.”
“Anytime,” he replied. “You can ask me anything.”
She believed him.
And as they sat together, shoulders brushing, neither quite brave enough to say what lingered between them, Elphaba thought that maybe—just maybe—some stories didn’t need to be spoken yet.
Some could wait.