Work Text:
XIX The Sun
Material happiness, fortunate marriage, contentment.
The sun was shining in through one of the oversized windows when their eyes met. Elphaba glared when she saw that stupid Scarecrow, how in Oz had he gotten in? Fiyero had guaranteed her that the castle was protected.
She stormed over, a spell hanging on the end of her tongue waiting to be uttered— but that stupid Scarecrow didn’t flinch or hide.
“How the hell are you in my castle?”
“Your castle?” he questioned, “I remember giving it to you.”
Her heart stopped. It couldn’t be him.
Could it?
“Yero?”
“Fae.”