(A/N: I'm so sorrrrrrrrrrrrrryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. This is for the two readers I have left. Sorry for any typooosss.)

Watching Lila leave was like watching a piece to the puzzle of his truest core finally slide into place. Fiyero felt the constriction and tenseness that had weighed him down for the past few months slowly seep out of him with sweet sensation. He breathed in deeply, the scent of his longings, suddenly so attainable, flirting delicately with his senses. Elphaba had never felt closer, had never felt more real, had never felt more possible. Feeling weightless, he began to make his way towards the parlor, where he could hear his daughter's bouncing laughter and Elphaba's soft accompaniment.

As he reached the doorway, he stood, unnoticed, and just watched her. He let his eyes indulge for the first time, unhindered by shame and propriety, in the sight of her. He let himself linger at her lips, at her nose, at the wisps of hair tucked delicately behind her ear, at her striking brown eyes, which Fiyero noticed, held a kind of sadness he hadn't seen three months ago. She held at her center, Fiyero observed, a sadness and maturity that lingered ever so subtly in the newfound delicateness of her being. It made her softer, where was she had been harsher; quieter, where she had been louder; lighter where she had been heavier….more fragile where she had been stronger. It was the sort of sadness easily hidden to someone not so attuned to her as he, and it worried him—because despite its subtlety, it was the sort of pale sadness that had the potential to cut deep enough to change her very nature—and Fiyero did not want her to change, had never wanted her to change.

She'd hidden it well last night, or perhaps he had been too overwhelmed to see it. Regrettably, he realized he may have been too harsh with her, and he wondered how much of her newfound vulnerability could be owed to him and whether testing it would reassure her or harm her. He had always had a loose hold on his harsher emotions, and somehow, she had constantly made his already weak grip on them even weaker. She had always been able to meet him at his worst though, to call him out on his brutishness and to reprimand his arrogance. But now, he wondered if his usual coarseness had finally outdone her, or if she had simply become too vulnerable to weather the sharpness he was so often powerless to hold back. And for probably the thousandth time, Fiyero had to wonder when had it all gone so wrong?

She was unhappy—a state of which Fiyero had no doubt was his own doing—and he hated it. To be the cause of anyone's unhappiness troubled him, but to be the cause of hers made him ache with an intensity unparalleled. That disastrous ball had churned out a slaughter of gossip that had left none of them unscathed. The stories that flew from mouth to mouth had grown hideous and malicious and Fiyero was not foolish enough to believe that they hadn't reached his ex-tutor's ears. Lamentably, vulgar as the stories were, he could not deny their foundations. He'd let his emotions rule him, letting his petty jealousy and boyish hormones drive him. It hadn't been her fault—yet is seemed she bore the brunt of his actions. She had never asked him to love her—or to be so deplorably bad at hiding it—and so he could not even blame her for his passion.

"Linny, don't smother her, or it will be even harder to convince her to come back with us." Fiyero gently chided his daughter as he walked into the room. Linny's smile grew even larger at the idea, but Elphaba's only faded as worry creased her brow.

"Your Highness-" she began, but was cut off by Linny's rambunctious exclamation.

"You're coming back with us, right Miss Elphaba? Oh, you've just got to! We missed you so much! It will be just like before!" she enthused with all the sincerity of a truly adoring child. Fiyero watched closely as Elphaba's expression became more conflicted as she searched for words sweet enough to dampen the refusal. He knew she had not been planning on returning, and that even if she did, it would never be just like before. He had no right to ask her to come back, and knew that he should respect her wishes. But the fact of the matter was, that respectfully…he did not respect those wishes. In fact he spurned those wishes. And if he had to use his adorable seven-year old daughter to guilt her into returning, then so be it. He needed her in a selfish way that no amount of self-loathing could stop.

"Of course she's coming back, Linny." Fiyero said cheerily, "What do you think Avaric and I came all this way for in the first place?" His smile faltered as he saw the conflict on his ex-tutor's face, and he wondered if his selfishness had fooled him into believing she would ever want this too.

Seeing the pained look on her tutor's face, Linny began to scramble for the precisely folded treasures in her pocket.

"Miss Elphaba, look!" Linny exclaimed as she hurriedly, but carefully began to unfold the papers, "I brought these all the way from home, so you would know how much we all missed you!" The first paper Linny unfolded was the infamous painting of the abstract bunny that Elphaba had so daringly leapt from the castle window to save.

"Oh Linny…" Elphaba gently took the offered painting, gazing at it is as she remembered that heated day—how livid the King had been!

"Perhaps Miss Thropp, when you look at it, it will remind you of how deeply I disapprove of your ridiculously usual out-of-window excursions." A small blush colored her cheeks as she felt him level her with his sardonic gaze, "It seems," he continued, "that you're always forgetting that little peeve of mine."

"I assure you, I don't do it to annoy you." Elphaba said with barely hidden amusement, her eyes trained carefully on the painting. Fiyero smirked.

"Well, you certainly don't do it for my health…." he trailed off as Linny finished unfolding her next paper treasure, recognizing it immediately. Palms clammy all of a sudden, he watched as Linny presented the drawing to the stunned tutor.

"Do you remember this picture?" Linny asked, "Father drew it the same day we had our art lesson! Remember?" she eagerly handed the drawing to Elphaba, hopping slightly on the balls of her feet in excitement. As his ex-tutor gazed curiously at the drawing, Fiyero suddenly felt like an embarrassed teenager with a crush, wishing he could snatch the drawing back and declare he didn't know where Linny had found that thing, honestly.

Elphaba looked up at him then after looking at the picture, and her gaze was searching and almost fearful. Fiyero could almost see a tinge of revelation in her eyes—as though suddenly so much more of him made sense to her now. It discomforted him because beyond that, she was unreadable, and her reaction brought him no closer to knowing where he stood with her.

"I…" she began, searching for words, and Fiyero held his breath.

"It's pretty!" Linny interrupted and Elphaba seemed to sag in relief at the interjection, "And look, I brought one more." As Linny began to unfold her last weapon of persuasion, Fiyero let out a measured breath, feeling relived for the interruption, but somehow even more on edge because he felt as though he had come so close—but to what he didn't know.

"Here, this is a picture me and Liir drew, and then Miles and Nor signed it too." Linny proudly presented Elphaba with a drawing of all of the children, Avaric, Fiyero and Elphaba herself. They were outside in the courtyards, and they seemed to be having a picnic. In the background there was a slightly out of place, massive plane jetting through the sky, no doubt a contribution of Liir's, and just behind them was a drawing of the castle. Elphaba couldn't help but notice a particular absence.

"It's beautiful Linny! But where is the Countess?" she asked.

"Oh, you can't see her in the picture, but she's inside the castle, drinking wine and bossing the staff around." Linny beamed proudly, pointing to the castle. Elphaba blinked at Linny in surprise and there was a beat before Fiyero let loose a roaring laugh.

"You think of everything, don't you?" he grinned at his daughter as he leaned down to sweep her up in his arms, nuzzling his nose into the side of her neck and making her giggle as it tickled.

"I was going to draw her, but I guess she doesn't live with us anymore, right, Father?" Linny asked. Abruptly pausing his tickling administrations, Fiyero looked at his daughter in surprise.

"Well no…I suppose she doesn't, Linny." He finally said, slowly. Stealing a glance at Elphaba, he saw the subtle surprise and the silent question on the tip of her tongue. But aren't you two going to be married?

"I hope she visits though. I liked her." Linny pronounced proudly. Fiyero wondered again, just exactly what had passed between his ex-fiancé and youngest daughter in his absence.

The trio was interrupted suddenly by one of the housemaids.

"Miss Elphaba? Your sister is asking for you."

"Oh? Alright, thank you, Hanni." Elphaba said. She smiled briefly at Linny before following the maid out of the room. Sighing, Fiyero looked down at his daughter, who predictably was fidgeting and staring longingly at the expansive mansion.

"Well, go on then." He sighed, nodding his head towards the door, "Explore. I'm sure your old father can find other ways to amuse himself." Linny grinned at him before running off to explore the mansion.

Alone again, Fiyero was left wondering just how things had become so muddled. It was clear he needed a plan of action. He couldn't let this…"speaking without really speaking" continue. Wasn't this at least part of what had muddled things in the first place? They'd tiptoed around each other so much that the need for blunt honesty was almost palpable in the air between them. He wanted desperately for them to speak to each other this way—to confess. But to confess what? How could he confess something still so unresolved? This morning, he had been ready to sweep her away back to the Vinkus, whether she liked it or not. But now, faced with the very real possibility that she really might not want to return—that it was he who had hurt her so deeply in the first place—well, it put a halt to things.

He shook his head with a sigh before making his way out of the room and down a hall, intending to find Avaric. He was surprised however, to run into the lady of the house, who he now realized must have been loitering in the hallway, waiting for him.

"If you had any sense, you'd stay away from her."

Fiyero turned so that he was face to face with Helen. He didn't bother pretending he didn't know who she was talking about.

"I don't remember asking for your opinion."

"I know you think you're a 'free man' now." Helen continued, undeterred, "I know you think you can do whatever you want—marry whomever you want. But Elphaba? My granddaughter? She's off limits to the likes of you."

"I don't really think that's up to you, Madam." Fiyero said irritably, trying in vain to sidestep her.

"I may not be very affectionate with Elphaba, and I may not even like her, but she is my granddaughter, my family, and she deserves more than some Don Juan." Helen hissed as she once again blocked his path. He paused at this, a nerve struck.

"Don Juan? You don't know a single-" .

"Your engagement has been broken for the whole of twenty minutes and you're already ogling my granddaughter? Do you have any dignity? Any sense of decorum or propriety? You've dragged that girl through enough—you and your Countess and your crass Master Avaric. The three of you deserve each other."

For once, Fiyero was at a loss for words.

"If you really cared about her, you'd leave her alone." Helen said firmly, "You gave her hope where there was none. She was smart to leave, and you'd be smart to let things be."

"Ah, there you are, Your Highness."

They both turned to see Frexspar Thropp walking towards them.

"Governor." Fiyero said in greeting.

"Why don't you come to my study," Frex offered ambiguously, "I'd like to talk."

"I'm taking care of it, Frex." Helen sniffed indignantly. Frexspar raised an eyebrow at his mother, looking between the two of them.

"No, mother, I don't think you are." He countered, before turning back to Fiyero, "Come, let's chat."

"You asked for me, Nessa?" Elphaba asked as she quietly closed the door behind her as she entered Nessa's room, "Did you need help getting ready for lunch?" She did a slight double take as she turned to see Nessa frowning at her, her arms crossed.

"What?" Elphaba asked, taking a seat at Nessa's vanity, across from her sister.

"I want to know what's going on, Elphaba." Nessa said, petulantly, "I think I've left you alone long enough. Why did you leave the King's castle, and why is he here now? And what of Master Avaric?"

Elphaba let out a long sigh, her hand coming up to pinch the bridge of her nose as her eyes slid closed.

"Nessa, I really don't-"

"I saw you two outside this morning, before the King got that phone call." Nessa prodded, "So don't tell me nothing's going on."

Elphaba looked down, flushing. Of course Nessa had seen, of course there had been someone around. There was always someone around; always with discerning eyes, and hollow ears. Privacy didn't exist in his world—not even here. A sudden wave of irritation took over her, for a brief moment, distinguishing the shame.

"It's none of your business, Nessa." Elphaba said with vehemence, "Can't two people talk without it catalyzing ridiculously fabricated and sensationalized gossip?"

"You're not just two people." Nessa argued, "And you both know that. And it's not just gossip that's at stake here, Elphaba!"

"At stake?!" Elphaba threw her hands up in frustration, "Yes, of course how could I forget the high stakes of conversation!" she continued sarcastically, "Before we continue in our own conversation, I must ask you Nessa, would you like to consider what's at stake first?"

"Oh Elphaba, don't be so derisive." Nessa scorned, "It's unbecoming."

"And that is something I worry about being so often." Elphaba drawled back, purposefully derisive.

"You're only acting this way because you know I'm right." Nessa sniffed, tossing her hair as she looked away.

"Right about what?" Elphaba asked, "You haven't claimed to know anything."

"It doesn't matter what I know, or what anyone else knows. It matters what they think. And right now-"

"—I don't want to hear it, Nessa!"

"—everyone thinks you're just a-"

"—Oz Nessa, I've heard it from everyone else, do I have to hear it from my own sister, too?!"

"I'll say it if it will make you see reason!"

"Reason!"

"Yes!"

"What's so unreasonable about-"

"—sleeping with the King?!"

"For the last time, I didn't sleep with him!"

A beat of silence followed Elphaba's outburst. Nessa glared icily at her sister.

"Well then," she began, "what did you do?"

The fight leaving her body, Elphaba sank back down into the chair she'd risen from during her outburst. She felt, suddenly, how inescapable it all was. She'd left the castle to get away from it all, to take time and distance and turn them into a change of heart—one which wasn't burdened by wanting things she could never have. A heart which felt a little less and forgot a little more—one which, above all else, knew it's place.

"What do you think I did, Nessa?" Elphaba sighed, tiredly, "I fell in love."

Another beat of silence followed Elphaba's confession.

"Elphaba you-"

"I know." Elphaba cut her sister off as she sprung to her feet, suddenly restless. She felt the need to explain herself, and she began pacing the room, "I know it was stupid and just—it was stupid, I know! But I just couldn't—I mean I didn't—I didn't do it on purpose! If I could have chosen not to, I would have, obviously! But I hardly had a choice in the matter and he—he made it so easy. And I guess I forgot—who he was—who I am—or maybe I didn't forget—I always knew—I just—" The rush leaving her, Elphaba collapsed once again onto the chair by the vanity, her hands coming up to shield her face. She felt embarrassed and stupid, and above all, helpless.

A few moments passed in silence, and Elphaba startled when she felt Nessa's hand slowly come to rest on her shoulder, squeezing gently; comfortingly. Elphaba turned to face her sister, and was startled to see tears in her eyes.

"Why are you crying?" she asked, and was alarmed to hear the wetness in her own voice. As her vision blurred slightly, she realized Nessa wasn't the only one.

"I'm sorry, Elphaba," A tearful laugh escaped Nessa's lips, "I just—somehow I'm happy for you."

"Happy?! Nessa this is the worst thing that's ever happened to me!" Elphaba exclaimed as tears began to slip from her eyes, but somehow she had started laughing too. Nessa smiled.

"I know, I know, it's awful," Nessa nodded, "It was really stupid of you to fall in love—and with the King of the Vinkus, of all people!"

They both dissolved at this, into something that fell somewhere between laughter and tears. Nessa reached for Elphaba's hand and she held it tightly as they both tried to stop laughing.

"Why me, right?" Elphaba sighed after they'd collected themselves.

"I think, you're a magnet for these things, Elphaba." Nessa said gently, and they both laughed again, Elphaba wiping at the wetness on her cheeks.

"I've been trying to move on—I mean, it's why I left. I just haven't had much luck, I guess." Elphaba shrugged, going for a nonchalance that Nessa saw right through.

"Maybe you don't have to move on, maybe you two could-" Nessa began, hopefully.

"Come on, Nessa." Elphaba cut her sister off with an obvious look.

"You're right." Nessa smiled sadly, "I wish you weren't, though. And I…I'm really…sorry that you are."

"Yeah," Elphaba sighed, a sad smile of her own gracing her lips, "Me too."

Fiyero had known the minute he'd stepped foot on the Thropp property that this talk was inescapable. After realizing how much Elphaba meant to him—and how much he never wanted to let her go, he knew that he'd have to speak to Frexspar anyway, about her coming back with him at the very least. But now, sitting in Frex's austere study, he realized not even his imagination could account for how uncomfortable this would be.

For the third time that minute, he adjusted in his seat, swinging his right leg over his left. After staring at his foot for a moment, he thought that, then again, maybe he wanted to not cross his legs at all. Unfolding his legs, he brought his hands together in his lap. But then that felt awkward. Sighing, he realized that under the stern gaze of the ex-Governor of Munchkinland, it was very well going to be impossible to be comfortable in any position. He suddenly felt like a squirming and nervous teenager. Not wanting to seem as such, he decided to just pick a position and commit to it. Crossing his left leg over his right, he settled in and became very still—probably too still—and waited for Frexspar Thropp to speak. It seemed that by "chat", Frexspar had meant "sit in condemning silence until the tension becomes egregious".

When several minutes passed by without so much as a nod of the head from the ex-Governor, Fiyero felt it necessary—for his own sanity, to at least say something.

"Governor-" he began, but was immediately cut off. It seemed, Frexspar did have something to say after all.

"Master Tiggular." Frex started, levelling the King with a stern look that nearly had Fiyero fidgeting in his seat again, "I have heard things. And I have seen things. And I have also not heard things. And I have not seen things." He paused here, giving Fiyero a prompting look.

"I'm sure you're going to elaborate." Fiyero said, not giving anything away. Frex paused and the two of them sat staring at the other with appraising eyes and guarded expressions.

"I have heard things about you, Master Tiggular-" Frex began, "-about my daughter and about Master Avaric." He spoke in a tone that was almost menacing in its forced nonchalance, "I've heard my daughter on the phone, so desperate to leave your castle that she willingly asked to come to her grandmother's home. I've heard the police on the phone, calling to inform me that my daughter and your friend had somehow wound up in a jail cell together. I've heard rumor after dreadful rumor about you and my daughter, rumors which I would not even force the worst of men to hear about their own children."

Not a man who was easily cowed, an uneasiness washed over Fiyero as he found himself feeling small. As Frex spoke, his tone slowly began losing its forced nonchalance as a quiet anger began to shake his voice.

"And as I've said, I've seen things, Master Tiggular." Frex continued, "I've seen my daughter change before my very eyes—in a way I had hoped she'd never have to. And I've seen your friend, and I've seen you. But I haven't seen answers, and I haven't heard explanations. And both of those, Master Tiggular, are sorely overdue."

A heavy silence fell between the two men, and Fiyero knew that he wasn't getting out without an explanation. Frex would wait.

"I wish—that is I don't-" Fiyero struggled to come up with words to describe his own ignorance, "I don't know everything-"

"You sure as hell know a lot more than I." Frex cut him off.

"Where do I start?"

"Where did it begin?"

"If you're referring to an affair, there wasn't one." Fiyero sighed, "I never touched her." He averted his gaze—for while all of this was technically true, he couldn't help but feel as though he were lying.

"You're so convincing, Your Highness." Frex seemed to notice this too.

"Rumors and gossip are untamable beasts." Fiyero muttered, "Surely, you don't trust everything you hear from people like-"

"Like my mother?"

"Like your mother."

"I trust that rumors grow out of bounds; that gossip embellishes and fabricates—but it does not start from nowhere, Master Tiggular." Frex said sternly, "Gossip aside, what I know, is that I left my daughter with you, under the impression that no harm was to come to her. I never expected she would return to me, a shell of her former self and with a tattered reputation. I've left Elphaba alone for the past three months, because I have respected that when she wishes to talk to me, she will. But suddenly, you're here, she still hasn't spoken with me, and I don't know what to make of it. What went wrong, Master Tiggular? Why did Elphaba leave, and why are you here?"

Resolving to speak, Fiyero avoided the ex-Governor's gaze as he began what he knew would be a very weak explanation.

"There was a ball at the castle." He began, "It was…well I suppose it was for the Countess more than it was for anyone else."

"The Countess?"

"Lila Fremont, my…"

"Fiancé?"

"Ex…"

A raised eyebrow was the only reaction this correction received. Frex leaned back in his chair, and gestured for Fiyero to continue.

"There was an ambassador in attendance," Fiyero cleared his throat, "He—ah, took an interest in Miss Thropp. He saw to it that they danced, and then that he was seated next to her at the dinner. I don't…I don't know what he said to her, but she did end up striking him across his cheek."

Frex scoffed here and Fiyero smiled dryly.

"Anyways," he continued, "she left the room and Avaric followed her out. I—I wasn't thinking and I went after her—them. I…I didn't even think about how that would look, I was just so wrapped up in my-" he stopped abruptly, "—I was concerned."

"Naturally." Frex commented ambiguously; unwaveringly.

"When I found them, I jumped to conclusions, I was-"

"Concerned?" Frex prompted. He sounded patronizing.

"Yes. And I—accused Avaric of…taking advantage of her. We argued, and afterwards I went to find El—Miss Thropp. She was outside, by the river. I had every intention of bringing her back to the ball, but she was…distant with me. She told me she was tired, and that she was turning in for the night. The next morning it was clear that she had left, without a word of goodbye." Fiyero shrugged, his shoulders rising and falling gently. A contemplating silence settled in the study as Frex mulled the story over.

"You accused your friend of taking advantage of her, did he?" Frex finally asked.

"What? No, no, of course not." Fiyero was startled by the question, "It was all in my head, they were never anything but friends. Avaric never even thought of her that way."

"Did you?"

"I…" Fiyero didn't know what to say, "…not how you think."

Frex's eyebrow rose, "And how do I think?"

"That I only wanted her for one thing; that it was just lust or-"

"You wanted her?"

"Not for that."

"Then for what?"

"I wanted her for her."

There was a pause as the silence thickened the tension in the room.

"And now?" Frex asked, his voice surprisingly unaggressive. Fiyero looked down at his hands.

"I still want her." He shrugged, almost wanting to laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

"Do you loveher?"

He didn't even think about it, "Yes."

Another beat of silence.

"Well then," Seeming spent by the conversation, Frex leaned back in his chair heavily and swiftly. He folded his hands on the desk in front of him before looking up to meet the King's reluctant gaze squarely, "You will make things right."

It was like being dropped into a black well and Fiyero felt his stomach flip as a wash of dread shivered through him. He saw this coming, of course he saw this coming. But how could he just let it happen? He'd spent enough time following the rules—he wasn't about to lose her again.

"Elphaba will return to the Vinkus with you," Frex began. Fiyero blanked at this, he had been expecting an order of exile from Elphaba's life—not an order of the opposite.

"I will be sending a chaperone with you; your friend, Master Avaric, will not do."

A chaperone? There was only one reason for Frex to send his own chaperone with Elphaba. Fiyero could hardly believe what he was hearing.

"You want to send a chaperone with her?" he asked.

"I would go myself, but I have work to do here." Frex said, giving Fiyero a calculating look, "But there is someone better I know, someone more attuned to societal propriety than I, who might even be able to mend some of the damage done by those rumors. Yes, I will send a chaperone and you will not proceed with Elphaba until such a time that her reputation has been mended."

"I…I know what a chaperone means, Sir. I know I am certain in what I want, but…I…despite my earlier thoughts, I won't force Elphaba to go back to the Vinkus if it isn't what she wants."

"You think she doesn't want to?"

"I don't know what she wants. All I know is that she left. That ought to be telling enough."

Frex regarded him contemplatively, "I don't think her leaving means what you think it does. You've suffered enough from assumed falsehoods, do not fabricate your own."

Fiyero didn't know what to say to this. He cleared his throat, "Who will you be sending as a chaperon?"

"My mother."

(A/N: Thank you for still reading if you're still reading!)