Chapter Text
Fiyero rolled over in bed, smiling sleepily at the woman beside him. Her back was turned towards him, and her blond curls hung like a curtain in front of Fiyero's face. Grinning and still half asleep, he reached out and tugged on one of the curls, watching with fascination as it immediately sprang back into place. Glinda's hair had always fascinated him, ever since he'd first met her.
He turned over onto his back, still smiling, and recalled the first time he'd ever laid eyes on Glinda Upland. It had been a meeting arranged by their parents when he and Glinda were still in college. She'd been attending Shiz University, and he a prestigious school in the Vinkus. Fiyero suspected that the only reason he'd been allowed to graduate hinged on the fact that his father had donated large sums of money to the establishment, but that suited him just fine. Fiyero had never been one to worry much about his studies, his degree, or even his future. He’d found life was much more enjoyable when he didn't waste his energy looking too far ahead. What was the point of living if you never enjoyed yourself? His parents, unfortunately, did not share this philosophy. They'd hoped that an arranged marriage might help their son to mature, and to get his head out of the clouds.
That was how he'd come to meet Miss Galinda Upland of the Upper Uplands, who had changed her name to Glinda during their college days for reasons she'd never quite cared to share with him. The two had connected immediately over their shared beauty, wealth and popularity, and it was decided that they would be engaged immediately upon finishing their respective degrees. This was all very agreeable to both parties, and no fault was found with the plan.
However, before the end of their college days, something had happened to Glinda. It had all started with bubbly excitement as she'd informed Fiyero of plans for a trip to the Emerald City with her roommate. Glinda had apparently grown quite close with the girl throughout their first semester, and the two had made plans to travel together for some sort of job opportunity. Fiyero hadn't been able to make the journey to Shiz to see them off, but he’d promised Glinda that he would meet them at the train station upon their return. He’d been surprised when a thoroughly shaken Glinda had stepped off the train to greet him, sans roommate, at the end of the weekend.
Fiyero never did manage to get the full story of what had happened out of Glinda. She’d been sullen for weeks afterwards, and no amount of coaxing on his part could convince her to open up. She'd eventually returned to some semblance of her former, perky self, but there were subtle and permanent differences. She didn't show it very often, but there was a hidden sharpness to her that hadn't been there before. Sometimes he noticed a barely perceptible shift, as though she'd put up a wall around herself. He'd even caught her lost in thought on a few occasions.
One fact Fiyero was aware of was that the girls' trip had coincided with a rather infamous event. It had been during their very visit to the Emerald City that the Wicked Witch of the West had begun her reign of terror. Left to his own devices and best guess, Fiyero assumed that Glinda's friend had been among the Witch's first victims.
Fiyero suppressed an involuntary shudder as his thoughts drifted to the Wicked Witch of the West. He would never admit it, lest he tarnish the shield of bravado he so often hid behind, but he was absolutely terrified of the vile woman. True, he'd never actually seen the Witch in person, but the myriad stories of her treacherous deeds were enough to instill within him a deep a sense of dread. It was said that her skin was an unnatural shade of green and that she possessed frightening power and magical abilities. She flew about on an enchanted broomstick, terrorizing the citizens of Oz and spreading horrible lies about the Wonderful Wizard. If Fiyero had his way, he would never so much as cross paths with the horrible woman. Unfortunately for him, the fact that he was the captain of the very military force assigned to her capture did nothing to aid his situation.
Shortly after college, Glinda had been offered a very prestigious political position, for reasons unknown to Fiyero. He had never questioned it, for Glinda's acceptance meant a promising future for both of them. Upon hearing of Glinda's impending marriage, the Wizard had generously offered her betrothed the influential position of Captain of the Gale Force. This had initially seemed like a great deal to Fiyero, who had always felt somewhat insecure about what his future held.
Fiyero was technically next in line for the throne of the Vinkus, but there had been whisperings in his family about his fitness for the position for as long as he could remember. Fiyero was an only child, but he had several cousins, the eldest of which was studying at the same university that Fiyero had attended. However, where Fiyero had skirted by, his cousin was thriving, managing to juggle a double major in history and political science while still receiving top marks. It was no secret that the majority of Fiyero’s family hoped that Fiyero would abdicate the throne to his younger cousin. Though no decisions had been made yet, Fiyero had always assumed this was an inevitability. He had no business leading a nation. He could hardly handle himself. It would break his parents’ hearts, but it wasn’t as though Fiyero had never done that before.
And so, he had become the captain, which had gone swimmingly until Fiyero learned what the position actually entailed. The Wizard's primary concern at the time of Fiyero's appointment was, of course, the capture of the Wicked Witch of the West. The woman was a dangerous threat, and it was imperative that she be taken care of with extreme prejudice. As the newly minted captain of the guard, that task fell squarely onto Fiyero's shoulders, which meant that he was constantly marching out to the farthest corners of Oz in search of someone he quite desperately did not want to find. Regardless, he put on a brave face and did what he needed to, for he had no choice in the matter. As luck would have it, they'd seen neither hide nor hair of the Wicked Witch of the West in over two years of searching.
Fiyero broke from his musings as the woman next to him began to stir. He rolled over to face her just as she gave a dainty yawn and turned towards him. The two smiled as their eyes met and, after a moment, they shared a brief and rather drowsy kiss. Wrinkling his nose at Glinda's morning breath, Fiyero pulled away and rolled out of bed.
His eyes swept the confines of their rather spacious bedroom as his bare feet hit the carpet. It wasn't even one of the largest rooms in the Emerald Palace, yet it was still the size of a modest Munchkinland home. Almost everything in the room was a stunning shade of emerald green, which was lovely at first, but did begin to grate on the senses. The only other visible color was pink, which seemed to dominate every piece of Glinda's furniture in the form of small trinkets or baubles. He'd allowed his fiancée to redecorate without any sort of opposition, though it was his personal opinion that the pink and green clashed.
Fiyero let out a luxurious yawn and stretched, practically bending himself over backwards in the process. Glinda shot him a look at the slightly boorish display, before stepping carefully out of bed and smoothing the covers. She gave another short yawn, her dainty fingers flying up to cover her mouth, before stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her. Fiyero shook his head with a slight smile as he watched her. Glinda was nothing if not a society girl, and that was part of the reason she was so popular among the Ozians. Fiyero wasn't sure exactly what her position entailed, but it seemed as though she was there to raise the Ozians' spirits through the current period of turmoil. It was an admirable task, in his opinion.
Tearing his eyes from the bathroom door, he allowed himself a reluctant sigh and then headed to his closet to prepare for his own job. The Wizard supposedly had a new lead on the Witch's whereabouts, and he wanted Fiyero to rally his troops and begin the search immediately. Fiyero, ever the perfect soldier, obeyed without complaint, even as he felt a familiar sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. The Witch was excellent at evasion, but she couldn't run forever. Sooner or later, Fiyero and his men were going to catch up with her. He couldn't even bring himself to think of it. What was their plan? Even with their extensive training, would a group of ordinary soldiers be enough to take down such a powerful witch?
Fiyero tried to push the unpleasant thoughts from his mind as he shoved his right leg into the green trousers of his Gale Force uniform. He often felt as though he was the only one who worried about such things. Even the lower ranking guards he commanded didn't seem phased at all by the thought of confronting the Witch. After a pint or two of ale, the rowdier ones would start boasting about the ways they could best her if only given the chance. They chased after the Witch with a feverish determination, always wanting to go the extra mile or search the extra cave. They were thrilled by the prospect of the fame and fortune to be had if they were among the men to bring the Witch to justice. Fiyero quite often found himself wondering if he was the only rational man among them, or simply a coward.
Even Glinda didn't seem to share his worries about the Witch, although her case was a bit more atypical than most. The average Ozian's eyes either blazed with fury or widened in fear at the mere mention of the vile woman, but Glinda was different. Her eyes instead seemed to fill with great sadness, before she would turn away and attempt to change the subject. No one else appeared to have picked up on this, but Fiyero had noticed it after a few months of living together. He assumed that the reaction stemmed, as did many things with Glinda, from that fateful trip to the Emerald City years ago.
Glinda exited the bathroom a few moments later, just as Fiyero was buttoning his green and gold blazer. He marveled at the fact that she could appear as though she'd been primping for hours when she’d only spent a few minutes in front of the mirror. He stepped up behind her as she began sifting through the dresses in her closet, and she jumped slightly as he snaked his hands around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder.
"Oh! Fiyero, dearest, you scared me!" she squealed, flashing him one of her bubbliest smiles. He grinned back at her and leaned in for a kiss, catching the minty afternotes of her toothpaste.
As he pulled away, Glinda asked, "Why are you in uniform so early?"
"The Wizard has a new lead. Wants me to mobilize the troops immediately,” he grumbled, careful to keep the trepidation from his voice. “He wants us to find her before she gets word of the expedition and disappears again."
At his words, a familiar sorrow appeared in Glinda's eyes. It lingered only for a moment, before she recovered and said, "Oh! Well safest travels, darling. Now, I really must pick out a dress. Which of these do you like better?" Fiyero watched as she held up what appeared to be two completely identical articles of clothing. Not missing a beat, he arbitrarily selected the dress dangling from her right hand, and Glinda smiled gaily as she disappeared back into the bathroom to put it on.
Fiyero smiled after her one last time, before he remembered the task at hand and his expression hardened. His next order of business was to head to the barracks and assemble his men. Once their preparations were complete, they would report to the Wizard's chamber for further instruction. Fiyero knew the next few days would not be easy. If his luck held, the worst of this venture would be a bit of sleep deprivation and some aching muscles. He and his troops would follow the Wizard's lead, search for a few days, and then return home empty handed. If he was incredibly fortunate, then every mission would turn out that way until his eventual retirement.
Fiyero reminded himself that, even with the less-than-ideal circumstances of his profession, his life was not exactly terrible. He had a beautiful fiancée, he lived in the Emerald Palace, and he was held in highest regard by the citizens of Oz. Considering that he'd very nearly failed his way out of college, he was better off than he had any right to be. Truly, the only problem he had was the fact that he had to go off on these searches every couple of months. Yes, everything in his life would be perfect if it wasn't for the damnable Wicked Witch of the West.
Fiyero turned and reluctantly left the shelter of his bedroom, straightening the collar of his blazer as he made his way through the halls of the Emerald Palace. Despite the fact that the majority of the palace’s residents were still asleep, the day was already in full swing. Palace staff bustled past Fiyero in all directions, eager to get a head start on the day’s chores. He nodded politely to a maid carrying an armful of fresh linens, then turned and made his way towards the kitchen.
He and Glinda usually took their meals in the castle’s large and lavish dining hall, as did the rest of the more important members of the Wizard’s staff. On mornings like these, however, when his time was limited, he preferred to grab a quick bite straight from the source. The kitchen staff were used to his early morning appearances, and hardly glanced up as he entered.
Several delightful smells assaulted Fiyero’s senses as he made his way into the warm cacophony of the morning breakfast rush. He skirted aside to avoid being bowled over by a munchkin carrying a heavy stack of plates, then twisted and stole a still-warm roll off the top of a stack on a nearby counter. A small tray containing a pat of butter and a small mound of blackberry jam slid across the counter and came to a halt in front of him. He glanced up to see Mariam, a portly kitchen maid who adamantly insisted that Fiyero was but skin and bones, smiling at him from across the counter. He snatched the plate and a small knife, nodded at her gratefully in acknowledgement, and then fled the kitchens before he could further impede their morning activities.
Fiyero turned down a back corridor in order to avoid the majority of the morning foot traffic. He deftly sliced open his roll and applied the desired amount of butter and jam before abandoning the small plate and knife on a side table for the maids to retrieve. He then shoved the entire roll into his mouth in a decidedly ungentlemanly manor as he took the steps down to the barracks two at a time. He knew that Glinda would scold him fiercely for such barbarity, had she witnessed it.
The barracks were already alive with the sounds of men talking and going about their morning routine as Fiyero arrived. Most of the soldiers were half-dressed and a few were hastily shoving supplies into their packs in anticipation of the upcoming mission. One by one, they stood at attention and saluted as they noticed Fiyero’s presence.
“At ease,” he said casually, nodding his acknowledgement as he finished his descent down the stairs.
He’d scarcely entered the room when his lieutenant, a large, well-muscled man named Alster Biels, elbowed his way through the crowd and stood before Fiyero with a determined salute. Fiyero had never particularly liked Biels. The man had a considerable amount of unearned confidence and a strong sense of superiority towards those he perceived as beneath him, but was a shameless brown-noser in Fiyero’s presence. This dichotomy meant that he was unnecessarily hard on the men under his command but was deferential enough to Fiyero’s authority to avoid any sort of reprimand for it.
“Preparations are almost complete, Captain,” said Biels, lowering his salute to glance at the men behind him. “Just have to round up the last of the stragglers.”
“Very good, Lieutenant,” Fiyero said dismissively, brushing past him to head towards the armory. The guard on duty saluted his approach and then stepped aside to allow the captain full access. Fiyero browsed the collection of weapons with mild interest. Most of the men elected to carry heavy rifles for their missions, but Fiyero instead selected a pistol and tucked it into the holster at his waist. He preferred a more concealable weapon that was better suited for close combat. He was often at the head of troops as they marched, and therefore in a better position to engage first or surprise the enemy.
His weapon secured, Fiyero returned to the barracks, where the lieutenant and the other 24 men selected for the mission were now assembled and awaiting his command. They didn’t typically travel in large numbers, as it was difficult to feed and account for a larger group of men and would make it difficult to retreat, should the need arise. This was yet another reason that Fiyero dreaded the possibility of running into the Witch. How were twenty-six soldiers with guns supposed to subdue a powerful sorceress?
He tried not to think about it as he moved to stand before his men. If he allowed himself to dwell on such doubts, he would never be able to project the sense of authority required of him as a leader. It was no secret that some of his men regarded him as unfit for his position, no doubt due to the nepotism with which it had been bestowed upon him, and this meant that Fiyero had to work twice as hard to earn their respect and ensure their confidence in his abilities. To that end, it was best if he kept his mind completely blank, a skill he was well-practiced at, and focused solely on the task at hand.
“All right, men,” he addressed them, eyes sweeping the crowd assembled before him. “Gather your weapons and then we report to the Wizard.”
Twenty-five rifles were collected from the armory, and then Fiyero and his men proceeded down the halls of the palace to the Wizard’s throne room. Members of the staff and residents of the palace alike called out to them as they went, cheering on the brave Witch hunters. Some of the Gale Forcers puffed out their chests and preened at the attention. Fiyero kept his eyes purposefully focused ahead.
They stopped and saluted before the heavy emerald doors that led to the throne room. The two guards stationed before it nodded at their approach, and then pushed the doors open to grant them entrance.
A booming voice greeted them as they stepped into the dimly lit room. “Who approaches the great and powerful Wizard of Oz?” it demanded.
“Captain Fiyero Tigelaar,” Fiyero said, with a confidence that he didn’t quite feel. “We’ve assembled a party to continue the hunt for the Wicked Witch of the West.”
The large mechanical head across the room regarded him as he spoke. “Excellent,” it responded. “My scouts have detected possible Witch activity a few hours outside of the city. The estimated location has been marked on the map.” At his words, one of the Wizard’s attendants scuttled forward and pressed the aforementioned map into Fiyero’s hands.
Fiyero studied the map for a moment, taking in the Wizard’s words. He knew the nature of the scouts The Wizard spoke of. They were a strange collection of flying Monkeys that kept him informed of goings-on in the outer regions. They were constantly patrolling and reporting on subversive activity, which was how the Wizard gathered information to fuel the search efforts. Fiyero had heard that the strange beasts had been the very first victims of the Witch's madness, when she'd seen fit to disfigure the poor creatures with her black magic. He supposed that everything had worked out for the best in that particular case. Now the very Monkeys she'd created were the Wizard’s greatest weapons in the effort to capture her.
Fiyero rolled up the piece of paper and placed it into his pack, then stood and faced the Wizard once more. “We won’t let you down, your Ozness,” he said with a salute.
“See that you don’t,” the voice boomed in response. “You are dismissed.” With that, the mechanical head fell lifeless, lolling to the side as the lights around it blinked off one by one.
Fiyero and his men turned and shuffled from the throne room without another word. They had their orders, and the time of their departure was growing near. The last order of business was another stop at the kitchens to pick up supplies for their journey. Fiyero squared his shoulders and led the men across the palace to their destination.
By this time more of the palace’s residents were awake, and there were several seated around the large dining table as the Gale Forcers arrived. Fiyero noted that Glinda was among them, picking daintily at a small plate of fruit that had been set before her. She gave a small wave and blew a kiss in Fiyero’s direction as he swept past into the kitchen. He smiled back at her and ignored the guffaws and pats on the back he received from his men in response.
Their rations and filled canteens had already been prepared and set aside for them. Fiyero noted that there was enough for roughly a fortnight’s journey. He sighed as he retrieved his share and added it to his rucksack. Just two weeks’ time stood between him and a return to his normal life.
The last of their preparations completed, Fiyero led his men out the back doors of the kitchens and into the early morning sunlight. It was hard to feel a sense of trepidation as they stepped out into the palace gardens in the early morning breeze, but Fiyero knew that would soon change in the nights to come. He would spend the next two weeks camping out in the dark forest, suppressing his urge to jump at every rustle of leaves in the quiet stillness. He wouldn’t sleep soundly again until he was safely at home in his own bed.
Pushing the thought from his mind, Fiyero stood up straight, set his sights on the horizon, and gave his men the order to forward march.