Chapter Text
Fiyero pulled on Feldspur's reins when he heard a startled yelp from the forest floor. “Woah, Woah there, woah.”
“I did not see her," Feldspur said as he slowed.
“Yeah, neither did I.”
“You might want to, um...”
“Ok.” Fiyero hopped off the saddle, intending to help the woman up, but she was already pushing herself up. “Yeah. I’m so sorry miss, I didn’t see you there, you must have...”
Elphaba turned to look at him, green eyes ablaze.
“...blended with the foliage.”
She narrowed her eyes. "Is this how you go through life? Just running amuck and trampling anyone in your path?”
“No.”
Feldspur laughed behind him.
"Sometimes, I'm asleep." He tried to give a flirty look, that usually got women to fall for him. He shuffled awkwardly when he realizes she wasn't folding.
She adjusted the strap of her bag with sharp efficiency. “Right. Let’s get this over with. No, I’m not seasick.”
“Neither am I.”
“No, I did not eat grass as a child.”
“Oh. I did.”
“And yes, I’ve always been green.”
“And the defensiveness?” he asked lightly. “That a recent development?”
She stared at him, flat and unimpressed.
Time for the big guns.
Fiyero smoldered.
“Hm.”
Feldspur laughed when it was clear Elphaba was still annoyed, Fiyero tried to shush him while laughing.
Elphaba rolled her eyes. There it was. Everyone always laughed at her greenness at some point, usually the buildup doesn't take that long.
“I’m off for some more trampling," he gestured to Feldspur, "may we offer you a ride?”
"No thanks." Elphaba turned quickly. "Get stuffed.”
“Wow, Feldspur," Fiyero watched her walk away, "we have just been spurned by a girl.”
“Indeed.”
“Guess there’s a first time for everything.”
______
Glinda jumped up when the door to their dorm was slammed open. "Elphie! What in Oz name?"
Elphaba rolled her eyes. "How many times have I asked you to stop calling me that name?"
Glinda waved her off. "Where are you just coming from? And why are your clothes dirty?"
"Some idiot and his Horse threw me down in the forest."
"The forest? At this hour?"
"Don't start." Elphaba stalked over to her side of the room, throwing her bag down to the chair.
Glinda’s tone softened. “Are you okay? I mean—are you hurt?”
“I’m fine.” Elphaba’s voice faltered despite herself. “It’s not the first time I’ve been thrown down.” She exhaled. “Just go back to sleep. I’m sorry I woke you.”
“O-okay.” Glinda reached for the lamp she’d left on. “Good night, Elphie.”
Elphaba made a noncommittal sound as she peeled off her dirt-streaked clothes. Moonlight traced the darkening bruise blooming along her thigh and side, the deeper green already visible against her skin.
Just as she thought.
______
Elphaba jolted awake to Glinda’s scream. Magic reacted before thought. The mirror cracked with a sharp, splintering sound.
“Elphie!” Glinda huffed. “That’s the third one since you moved in!”
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. You scared me. Why are you screaming?"
Glinda shoved a paper in her face. "Prince Fiyero's coming here! A prince! Here! Oh, can you believe?"
"I cannot," Elphaba said flatly as she pushed the paper away. "Why is this important?"
"Why is it impor—Elphaba Thropp.” Glinda stared at her. “A prince here means a potential husband for me. That is very important.”
“How could I forget.”
______
Fiyero learned very quickly what kind of place Shiz was.
It wasn’t subtle.
Girls leaned too close. Laughed too loud. Found excuses to touch his arm, his shoulder, his sleeve—as if brushing against him might make something of him rub off. They asked where he was from, if he planned to stay, if he liked parties, if he danced.
He smiled. He answered just enough.
History class was already a mistake. He never stayed anywhere long—why start now? He should’ve gone straight to finding the next party. He’d heard the Ozdust was decent.
He arrived late on purpose, boots scuffing against stone as he strolled into the lecture hall, confidence intact. Empty seats dotted the room. Several girls waved him over, including the pink-clad blonde who’d promised him a tour later.
Then he saw her.
Same dark hair. Same rigid posture. Same unmistakable green skin, brighter in the daylight spilling through the tall windows. She sat alone, books stacked neatly, pen aligned just so. Focused. Closed off.
Of course she was here. Empty seats on either side of her.
A slow smile tugged at his mouth before he could stop it.
He barely made to any of the empty seats when he heard the whispers and snorts that weren't even trying very hard to be quiet.
“Does she have to sit so close?”
“I don’t understand why they let her attend.”
“Can you imagine waking up looking like that?”
He watched the green girl's spine straighten. She clearly heard them but kept her eyes forward as her jaw clenched.
He slid into the seat beside her, casual, like this had been the plan all along.
She stiffened.
Not dramatically. Just enough.
Her head turned, eyes widening a fraction when she recognized him. Surprise flickered, gone almost instantly, replaced by something cooler, more calculating.
"Hello again," Fiyero gave an easy smile.
"You shouldn't sit here," she whispered, turning forward again.
"Unless these seats are taken,” he said easily, “I believe I’m allowed to sit wherever I like.”
"You're full of yourself."
There it was again—that sharp edge. Not cruelty. Precision.
Professor Dillamond began speaking, voice low and deliberate, but Fiyero barely heard him. He watched the way her pen moved, quick and exact. The faint crease between her brows when she concentrated. The way she refused to look at him even though he could feel her awareness, taut as a wire.
When class ended, the crowd surged forward. Voices rose again, careless and cruel.
Fiyero stood.
“Wicked,” they joked. “She looks it.”
He turned before he could stop himself.
The room went quiet—not because of Elphaba, but because he was suddenly looking at them.
He didn’t raise his voice.
“That’s not funny.”
A beat. Confusion. Then awkward laughter, trying to smooth it over.
Elphaba didn’t look back.
But as she passed him her step faltered. Just barely.
Like she’d heard him.
Like it mattered.
Fiyero watched her leave, his attention still fixed on the one girl in the room who hadn’t tried to claim him at all.
And realized, with something like inevitability settling into his bones—
Shiz had already decided who she was.
He wasn’t sure he agreed.