Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It had been months.

Months since Boq had been transformed into the Tin Man.

Months since Dorothy Gale arrived, her house crushing Nessarose beneath it.

Months since she killed Elphaba with nothing more than a bucket of water—while wearing Nessarose’s enchanted silver slippers. The very same silver slippers that Elphaba had once enchanted, intending to grant her sister the ability to walk. But rather than revel in her newfound mobility, Nessarose had used her magic to bewitch Boq’s heart instead, a spell that had failed so disastrously that Elphaba had been forced to intervene. Forced to save Boq’s life in the only way she knew how—by replacing his failing heart with cold, unfeeling tin.

And then Dorothy had been sent home, guided by Glinda the Good, after slaying the Wicked Witch of the West and taking the witch’s broomstick as proof of her triumph. She had intended to present it to the Wizard, only to find that he had disappeared long before she, the Scarecrow, and the Lion had reached the Emerald City. A “sudden departure,” Glinda had called it.

After Dorothy’s departure, Boq and his companions had gone their separate ways. The Lion had returned to the deepest parts of Munchkinland, retreating into the vast forests. The Scarecrow had wandered west, perhaps toward the mountains. And Boq… Boq had remained behind, stationed in Munchkinland, left to guard whatever forces might still linger. Days passed, then weeks, then months, and still he stood there, unmoving, slowly rusting once again.

It was fine. Manageable, even. Or as manageable as rusting could be for a man of tin.

So when Elphaba, clad in her familiar black garb—the very same she had worn when she melted—appeared beside him as if she hadn’t caused his suffering in the first place, Boq was understandably shocked. (To be fair, she hadn’t actually caused it. That blame lay with Nessarose. Elphaba had only tried to fix it. And, well, if the alternative had been death, he would have rather chosen this. But semantics and all that.)

She oiled his joints carefully, working in silence, not the least bit concerned that someone might stumble across her very undead presence standing beside him.

Boq let out a sharp breath, the sound more mechanical than human. “Well, look who the wind dragged back,” he said sarcastically. “Come to finish what your sister started? Come to finally kill me?”

Elphaba merely looked at him, unfazed, as if he hadn’t just insulted her outright. And for all it was worth, Boq wasn’t actually angry with her. How could he be? She had been his best friend for years, for Lurline’s sake. But that didn’t change the fact that she was also part of the reason he was like this now.

After a tedious amount of oiling him up to restore his mobility, she finally set the oil can aside. Without a second thought, she tossed it away carelessly, yet it landed perfectly—no spills, no mess.

But there was no time to dwell on that.

Elphaba had just proposed something so outrageous that Boq could hardly believe what he was hearing. Breaking into the Emerald City to steal the Grimmerie and use it to send him back in time? It was madness. And yet, she was completely undeterred.

"Elphaba, this is insane," Boq muttered, shaking his head. "Breaking into the Wizard’s stronghold? Stealing a book of magic? You can’t be serious!"
But Elphaba was already moving, her green hands tightening into fists. "We don’t have a choice," she insisted. "The Grimmerie is there, and it’s the only way to set things right. If I had it then—if I had it before Dorothy—things might have ended differently. Maybe they still can."

Boq hesitated, torn between his better judgment and the fire in Elphaba’s eyes. He had seen that look before—when she had set out to defy the Wizard, when she had stood against the world alone. She wasn’t backing down.

With a sigh, he relented. "Fine. But if we get caught, I’m blaming you."

"Fair enough," Elphaba said with a smirk.

Together, they made their way through the winding corridors of the Emerald City, avoiding the ever-watchful guards. The palace was a maze, but Elphaba moved with purpose. She knew where the Grimmerie was kept.

At last, they reached the room. It was locked, of course—but locks were no match for Elphaba. A whispered incantation, a flick of her fingers, and the door creaked open. The Grimmerie sat upon a pedestal in the center, bathed in an eerie glow.

Boq felt a chill run down his spine as he stepped inside. "Are you sure about this?"

"Not even a little," Elphaba admitted, flipping through the pages. Then, her eyes caught something—an incantation, half-familiar, half-terrifying. "But it’s now or never."
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a watch—a strange, old timepiece she had found discarded somewhere in the Wizard’s chambers. It wasn’t just any watch. Embedded within its face were stones—fragments from the Vinkus, from Munchkinland, from the Gillikins. Pieces of Oz itself.

Elphaba pressed the watch into Boq’s hands.

"This will tether you. Keep you from getting lost."

Boq swallowed hard. "Elphaba, what if—"

"Just trust me."

She took a deep breath and began to chant. The words of the spell rolled off her tongue, ancient and powerful. The room trembled. Light pulsed from the Grimmerie, the watch, the very air around them.

Then, everything turned black.

And just like that, Boq was gone.The room was silent.The story—unfinished.

The first thing Boq registered when he woke up was that the bed he was lying on felt lavish. This wasn’t his bed. His bed was thin, uncomfortable, and most likely a hand-me-down from his parents. This one, however, was soft, luxurious—completely foreign.  

The second thing he noticed was the silence. No mother shaking him awake at some ungodly hour, demanding he get up to help on the farm.  

So, he did what any rational—yet perpetually emotionally inept—person would do. He got up, looked around the room, and panicked.  

So much for being a smart person in his past life.  

It wasn’t that he hated the room. It was nice, even. Familiar in a way that made his skin prickle. The aesthetic was still his—his tastes, his belongings—but it was different. For one, it was bigger. Spacious enough for him to spin around in like an idiot if he wanted to. His old trinkets were here, the ones from before Shiz, scattered among other things that belonged to Boq Woodsman.  

And then, it clicked.  

Elphaba had sent him back in time.  

The moment the thought took root, everything flooded in—memories, hazy and fragmented, yet perfectly understandable in a way only someone who had lived through every unfortunate event could comprehend. They didn’t come in order, didn’t form a neat timeline, but they were there. And they told him one undeniable truth.  

This was the past.  

And in the name of the unnamed gods, this was confusing and absolutely not thrillifying at all.

Since it was already past the hour he used to wake up in his past life, Boq decided to get up and start his day, fetching his glasses seated on the bookshelf next to his bed.

As he stepped out of his room, a thought struck him—he needed answers. Without hesitation, he made his way toward his father’s office, intent on uncovering the truth about what was really going on.  

His bedroom was lavish, but the rest of the manor was a different kind of grandeur altogether. The walls were adorned with finely woven tapestries, their deep blues and golds catching the morning light. Ornate chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, illuminating the long corridors lined with polished wooden floors. The scent of fresh flowers, likely arranged by the house staff, lingered in the air. The wealth of the Woodsman family was undeniable, though it was not the excess of royalty—rather, it was the quiet, dignified luxury of the richest family in Munchkinland.  

But as Boq searched through his father’s office, he found something unsettling—a letter.  

It confirmed what he feared. The government, specifically the Wizard’s forces, had their sights set on his family’s fortune. They were searching for loopholes, ways to bring them down. Their wealth, it seemed, complicated the Wizard’s rule in ways Boq didn’t yet fully understand. But one thing was clear: they were in danger.

But family fortune issues aside and before they leave for Shiz, he first needs to find Elphaba. He needs to catch up with his best friend because, in his past life, they never rekindled their friendship—not beyond that one conversation about his (lack of) feelings toward Nessa before she left for the Emerald City. This time, he wants to understand what really happened. Why was Elphaba branded as the Wicked Witch by both Madame Morrible and the Wizard during their visit to the Emerald City with Glinda? And beyond that, he also needs to figure out the Wizard’s forces and their apparent interest in his family's fortune.  

With a heavy sigh, Boq adjusted his glasses and took a deep breath before exiting his father’s office and went on his way to the Thropp manor.

For Lurline’s sake, this is all confusing—and definitely not thrillifying.

Boq knew that finding Elphaba wouldn’t be the hardest part of this plan. She was easy to find—always sitting under the same tree in the manor’s garden, nose buried in a book, many of them about the Great and Powerful Wizard of Oz. No, the hardest part was figuring out what to say.  

It wasn’t like he could just walk up to her, sit down, and blurt out, "Hey, sorry for not talking to you for months. I’m here to make up for it because, well… you sent me." That would be ridiculous. And highly questionable.  

Still, he was here now, standing at the entrance to the garden, watching her as she turned a page, completely absorbed in whatever she was reading. He hesitated for a moment before taking a deep breath and stepping forward.  

Boq cleared his throat. Too loudly. Elphaba flinched, gripping her book tighter as she turned to look at him. Her sharp gaze softened when she recognized who it was.  

"Boq?" she asked, sounding surprised. "What are you doing here?"  

Boq shifted uncomfortably, suddenly very aware of how long it had been since they last spoke. "Uh… I just thought I’d stop by. It’s been a while."  

Elphaba arched a brow. "That’s an understatement."  

He chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, adjusting the placement of his glasses. "Yeah… I guess it is."  

She closed her book but kept her finger between the pages as a placeholder. "So? Why now?"  

Boq hesitated. He hadn’t exactly planned this part. He knew he had to tell her something, just… not the whole truth. No time travel talk.  

"I guess I just realized how much I’ve missed talking to you," he admitted. "And how unfair I was to you. I let… other things get in the way of our friendship. I’m sorry for that."  

Elphaba studied him for a moment before exhaling a breath. "You mean your "normal" friends?"  

Boq flinched. "That obvious, huh?"  

She rolled her eyes but didn’t look angry. "Please. It was painfully obvious." Then, with a softer expression, she added, "But… I appreciate the apology."  

There was a brief silence before Boq sat down beside her, more relaxed now. "So, what are you reading?"  

Elphaba smirked, flipping the book around to show him the cover. "More about the so-called Great and Powerful Wizard."  

Boq laughed. "Still obsessed, huh?"  

"Not obsessed," she corrected. "Just… interested."  

"Sure," he teased.  

She nudged him with her elbow, and he grinned. It felt easy, natural, like no time had passed between them at all.  

For the next hour, they talked, catching up on everything they had missed. Boq listened as Elphaba ranted about her studies before their vacation, her father and Nessa and she listened as he talked about what happened at school during the time that they're apart. They laughed, reminisced, and for the first time in months, Boq felt like he had his friend back.  

Maybe he didn’t need to explain everything. Maybe this was enough.  

Chapter Text

Boq doesn’t particularly mind traveling to Shiz by boat in broad daylight.

Is it hot? Yes.
Is it strange to be surrounded by other students instead of making the journey alone, like he did in his past life when he traveled before sunrise? Also yes.

But what he does mind? The absurd number of belongings he has with him—luggage and boxes filled with luxurious clothes, shoes, and other unnecessary things. Not that it really matters in the grand scheme of things. Semantics, and all that.

In his past life, all he had was a single suitcase, a satchel, and a dream. He hadn’t even said goodbye to his parents, leaving home on a whim without a word. Now, though? He was arriving at Shiz with his parents by his side, sending him off properly. Somewhere in the distance, he spots the Thropps’ boat a few vessels away.

When they finally reach the student drop-off docks at Shiz, Boq’s parents are all over him, exchanging goodbyes and making heartfelt promises to write. It’s… nice. Having them here. Having them care enough to send him off, instead of sneaking away like he had in his past life.

With the last goodbyes said, Boq waves as his parents ride away from Shiz. Beside him, Galinda speaks to absolutely no one.

"They’re going to miss me so much," she says, as if the world revolves around her.

Boq doesn’t even spare her a glance. What is he supposed to say to that? In his past life, he had foolishly responded with "My parents didn’t even know I left," like the lovesick idiot he was—before life decided to chew him up and spit him out in the tangled mess of everything that followed with the so-called Wicked Witch.

But right now?

Right now, he has more important things to worry about—namely, Elphaba and Nessa’s arrival. He did, after all, promise Elphaba that he’d get in touch with her as soon as they reached the docks.

After a while, Galinda left the docks and made her way to the main part of the courtyard. Even from a distance, Boq could hear her voice rising above the others as she participated in the Shiz choir, singing the school hymn. But his attention wasn’t on her.  

His focus was on Elphaba and Nessarose, who had just arrived at the docks. Without hesitation, he approached them, waving.  

“Elphaba! Nessa! Governor Thropp,” Boq greeted, giving a respectful nod to the Governor. The Governor returned the gesture, though it felt like an afterthought—his attention was solely on Nessarose, tending to her every need while pointedly ignoring Elphaba.  

Not that Boq cared. He wasn’t here for Nessa. He was here for Elphaba.  

As he struck up a conversation with her, Nessarose wheeled herself toward the courtyard, merging into the growing crowd of students. Boq and Elphaba trailed behind, engrossed in their discussion.  

As they walked, Boq noticed the other students parting around them—not because of him, but because of Elphaba. He frowned. How ridiculous. These people attended a school where most of the professors were Animals, yet they still gawked at a green-skinned girl like she was some strange anomaly. The sheer stupidity of it all was almost laughable.  

Elphaba, however, paid them no mind.  

Together, she and Boq reached the center of the courtyard, where Galinda stood with her back to them, singing the final notes of the hymn.

As the students continued whispering among themselves about Elphaba, Galinda and the choir finally reached the end of their hymn. A round of applause erupted around Galinda, some students even making an exaggerated show of admiration. She, in turn, tossed her golden curls with dramatic flair, basking in the attention.  

However, her moment of glory was cut short when she noticed the students behind her murmuring in hushed tones. The unusual shift in their focus piqued her curiosity, and as she turned to investigate, she let out a piercing scream that could have shattered glass.  

“Oh, Oz!” she shrieked, recoiling as if Elphaba’s mere presence had personally offended her delicate sensibilities. The courtyard erupted with exclamations, though it was hard to tell whether they were reacting to Elphaba or Galinda’s impressive vocal range.  

Elphaba, ever the embodiment of dry wit, glanced around the courtyard, feigning confusion.  

“What? What are you all staring at?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Do I have something in my teeth?”  

Galinda, for the love of Lurline and all the Unnamed Gods above, took the question at face value, completely missing the sarcasm dripping from Elphaba’s tone.  

“No,” she said slowly, staring at Elphaba as though the girl had somehow remained unaware of her own appearance. “It’s just… you’re green.”  

Elphaba, summoning every ounce of restraint to avoid hexing someone on the spot, lifted her hands and examined her fingers with exaggerated surprise. Then, leveling Galinda with a deadpan stare, she replied with as much sarcasm as she could manage without setting the courtyard on fire.  

“I am.”  

As if she didn’t own a mirror. As if she hadn’t spent her entire life being reminded of it.

The students around them murmured again, their whispers an irritating buzz in the background. Elphaba, completely over it, adjusted her satchel, pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, and decided she was officially done with sarcasm.  

"Fine. Let’s get this over with," she said, willing herself to stay calm and not hex every last one of them.  

She turned to face the growing audience, emphasizing each word as she spoke.  

"No, I am not seasick. No, I did not eat grass as a child. And yes, I have always been green." To drive the point home, she lifted her hands, flashing her long green nails with each statement

Galinda, for all her questionable intelligence, somehow decided that the best way to respond was with condescension.  

"Well, I, for one, am so sorry that you're forced to live with…" She trailed off, waving a perfectly manicured hand in Elphaba’s direction before finishing with a dramatic, "this."  

Elphaba, who had already come to the conclusion that Galinda was nothing more than a pink-clad airhead with no common sense, crossed her arms and arched a brow.  

"Is that so?" she said flatly.  

"Yes," Galinda responded without a hint of self-awareness, raising a finger as if addressing a lecture hall. "And it is my intention to major in sorcery," she continued, her voice taking on a self-important lilt. "So, if at some point you decide to address the, um… problem—" she made an exaggerated jazz-hand motion at Elphaba's entire existence "—perhaps I could help."  

The students around them? A bunch of absolute idiots.  

"Ooooh," they chorused, reacting as if Galinda had just unveiled the cure for idiocy instead of blatantly insulting someone to their face.  

"She’s so good," Pfannee, one of Galinda’s mindless cronies, gushed in admiration, as if Galinda had just performed some sort of miracle.  

Elphaba barely resisted the urge to hex them all.  

Chapter Text

As the last of the parents fussed over their children and made their way into the ever-growing crowd of new students, Frexspar followed suit, departing without so much as a second glance at Elphaba. His attention, as always, had been solely on Nessarose. Boq watched him go, feeling a pang of irritation at the man's blatant neglect of his elder daughter.  

The courtyard was abuzz with chatter as students waited impatiently for the introductory pleasantries to conclude. Boq, for one, was eager for the formalities to end so he could finally retreat to his dorm. The sheer number of students packed into the courtyard only added to his growing exhaustion. He'd had quite enough of the day's events—especially after that tense exchange between Galinda and Miss Coddle, whose overly saccharine tone when addressing the Thropp sisters had made him want to whack her upside the head.    

At long last, the president of Shiz University took center stage, signaling the end of the seemingly endless ceremony.  

"Thank you for your contribution to our university," the elderly man began, his voice carrying over the murmuring crowd. In the distance, the bells of Shiz chimed, marking the hour. "And now, rounding out the rest of our esteemed faculty, we have two scholars, eminent in their respective fields of forestry and agriculture," he continued, prompting a polite round of applause for the mentioned professors.  

Boq barely paid attention, shifting his weight from foot to foot in boredom.  

"And, of course," the president went on, "we have Professor Mombi of the Biological Arts, and the head of our history department, Dr. Dillamond."  

At the mention of the Animal professor, the crowd erupted into another round of applause—one noticeably louder than before. It seemed that Dr. Dillamond was well-respected among students and faculty alike.  

"You know," the president added, his voice taking on a more solemn tone, "except for our wonderful Wizard, true magic has become all too rare. Which is why—"  

Somewhere in the courtyard, someone gasped. Boq suspected it was Galinda, but he wasn’t about to waste energy figuring it out. He just wanted this to be over.  

"We are privileged," the president continued, "to have as our dean of sorcery studies, Madame Morrible."  

At this, the sorcery dean made her entrance, striding onto the stage in her full regalia. The students rose as one, erupting into a loud round of applause in her honor.  

Beside him, Elphaba stood transfixed, her sharp green eyes fixed on Madame Morrible with something akin to childlike wonder.

As Madame Morrible made her way to the podium, the applause grew louder. The students cheered, for the opportunity to witness one of her rare sorcery lessons was a privilege. Boq, exhausted as he was, understood the significance of her presence. Madame Morrible’s sorcery lessons held great weight at Shiz, and he knew that after her, the only figure more prestigious to learn from would be the Great and Powerful Wizard of Oz himself. And honestly, as questionable as the Wizard’s rule was, his hold over Oz was undeniable.

"Welcome, new students," Madame Morrible began, her voice commanding immediate attention. "And congratulotions on your acceptance into Shiz! Whether you'll be studying law, logic, or linguification, I know I speak for my fellow faculty members when I say we have nothing but the highest hopes for some of you."

Her sharp gaze swept over the courtyard, and the students chuckled at her thinly veiled remark.

"And now, Miss Coddle, if you please," Madame Morrible concluded, stepping aside from the podium, allowing Miss Coddle the chance to make what would hopefully be the final announcement of this long-winded introduction.

Chapter Text

All in all, Boq didn’t hate his dorm.

Was it the best room option? Not really. But hey, it wasn’t like his previous dorm in his past life—cramped, musty, and smelling like the long-forgotten corners of Shiz that everyone else had abandoned. This time, at least, he had a window, a bed that didn’t squeak with every move, and—surprisingly enough—a roommate.

Not that sharing a room was new. He’d shared one in his past life too. Nick Chopper, that was his name—or something like that. Honestly, Boq didn’t remember him very well. He’d only stayed at Shiz for what—maybe a semester? Then he vanished around the time everything went to hell with Elphaba and the whole “Wicked Witch” business. (Which Boq still needed to get to the bottom of, alongside unraveling the mystery of his own family’s downfall and their suspicious connection to the Wizard’s grand scheme to strip them of their fortune.)

But anyway, back to the matter at hand.

This time around, he was rooming with a nobleman from the Gillikinese aristocracy. Avaric Tenmeadows was his name—or something like that.

As Boq unpacked his things, his thoughts drifted back to Elphaba. He hadn’t seen her since their little run-in at the courtyard earlier (that and his own refusal to leave his room since he was enjoying the temporary peace and quiet—before his roommate inevitably shattered it).

His fingers curled around the watch in his palm, its weight grounding and strange. The Vinkus stone embedded in the casing caught the light, glimmering softly. It tugged at his thoughts—toward Fiyero. He wasn’t due to arrive at Shiz for another three or four weeks, which Boq was definitely not thinking about. (That was a lie. He’d been thinking about the Vinkun prince ever since he returned to the past.)

In his last life, his interactions with Fiyero had been fleeting. A curt nod here, an awkward exchange there. That one moment in the library when Fiyero had first arrived—Boq remembered it too clearly. It had stirred something in his chest he hadn’t wanted to name. And then, of course, there were their brief moments together during that whirlwind of time in the Charmed Circle, before life decided to get dramatically worse for all of them.

He had a nagging suspicion Fiyero had been the Scarecrow with Elphaba during Dorothy’s arrival, though he hadn’t gotten the chance to ask anyone back then. He’d been too busy being furious at the world. All he really knew was that the Lion had been the same one Elphaba freed years ago, and Dorothy definitely wasn’t from Oz. The rest? A blur.

He slipped the watch into the inner pocket of his coat, close to his heart. The ticking was loud—too loud. Louder than any clock ought to tick. Or maybe he was just finally losing it.

Eventually, he finished unpacking and, as much as he loved the quiet, decided that staying in his room was actually a little boring. So, with a reluctant sigh, he slid his shoes on, strapped his watch back onto his wrist, and stepped out into the corridor, locking the door behind him.

It didn’t take long to find Elphaba.

He spotted her emerging from a secluded corner of the Shiz gardens, the sun catching the edge of her smile. She was beaming.

“So, I take it your meeting with Morrible went well?” Boq asked, watching as she reached up to play with a braid of her hair, that rare and genuine smile still on her face.

“Yes,” she said, practically glowing. “I get to train with her privately, Boq. And on top of that—she said I might be granted an audience with the Wizard himself someday.”

Boq’s stomach twisted. Memories of what happened the last time Elphaba met the Wizard surged through him—but he pushed them down. Forced a smile for her.

“That’s thrillifying, Fabala,” he said softly, stepping forward and taking her hands in his. “This is your dream. It’s finally happening.”

She gave his hands a gentle squeeze, her smile fading into a peaceful sort of silence between them.

“So, you’re rooming with Galinda, huh?” Boq asked after a beat. Elphaba immediately pulled a face that made it clear she’d rather be sleeping in the stables.

“I feel like we’re not going to get along,” she muttered.

Boq didn’t say anything for a second. Oh, if only you knew, he thought. Galinda’s going to be your ride-or-die in just a few weeks. But he didn’t dare say it out loud. Not yet.

“Hey, look on the bright side,” he said instead, nudging her playfully. “At least it’s a private suite. Could be worse.”

She rolled her eyes and gave him a light smack on the shoulder, a small laugh escaping her lips.

And for a moment, just a moment, things felt simple again.

After a few more minutes of conversation, Boq and Elphaba parted ways—Elphaba heading toward Galinda’s private suite, and Boq to the library.

Standing outside Galinda’s dorm room, Elphaba almost considered sprinting away and begging Madame Morrible to room her with Nessarose instead. But before she could act on the impulse, the peephole slid open. One brown eye peeked through, crinkling at the edges with amusement. For a moment, Elphaba thought Galinda looked… cute.

Now is not the time or place for these thoughts, Elphaba. Focus.

After a few seconds of just standing there, silently studying one another, Galinda opened the door.

She gasped and laughed—a beautiful sound to Elphaba’s ears. Not the time, she reminded herself again, as Galinda ushered her inside.

“Come in,” Galinda said brightly. “The rest of my bags should be arriving shortly,” she added, leading Elphaba further into the room.

Elphaba looked around, blinking. It was definitely smaller than she’d expected—cozier, really. She would have considered it a sleeping space, not a living one, especially compared to Galinda’s usual flair.

Huh, Elphaba thought.

Elphaba took a steadying breath and closed her eyes, adjusting the strap of her worn messenger bag as if the familiar weight could anchor her nerves. She tried to convince herself that everything was fine—that she could handle this.

At least it's a private suite, Boq had said earlier, his voice laced with awkward optimism. Could be worse.

Unnamed gods help her.

Chapter Text

“Do you really think this is fair?” Elphaba asked, arms crossed, as she took another look around Galinda’s suite—her very pink, very spacious, and very not-evenly-divided suite.

“Oh, I do not,” Galinda replied breezily, standing poised between the balcony pillar and her vanity. “I was promised a private suite. But thanks for asking,” she finished off with a casual toss of her hair.

Elphaba responded with a simple, unimpressed “Hmm,” and moved toward the balcony door to close it. But before she could, Galinda suddenly stepped in front of her, fully blocking the path.

“Waiiit, uh—” Galinda blurted out.

“What?” Elphaba asked, raising a brow.

“What?” Galinda repeated right back, as if confused by Elphaba’s question.

“I was just... going to close the door,” Elphaba said flatly, gesturing to the open balcony.

“Oh,” Galinda said. “Well, could you not? I’m sorry, I just... so enjoy the air.” She dramatized the statement by grabbing both sides of the doorframe, tilting her head back into the breeze, tossing her golden curls, and letting out an exaggerated sigh that lasted several seconds. The wind tousled her hair with theatrical perfection.

(Not very helpful thoughts right now, Elphaba,) Elphaba thought dryly, watching the display.

Galinda stepped back inside but still lingered by the balcony. “You know what I mean?” she finished, flashing Elphaba a bright smile.

“Oh, I saved you some space, by the way,” she added cheerily, waving Elphaba toward a small corner. “Here it is!” she sang, shoving one of her many frilly pink dresses aside to make room.

“Just in here,” she said with a flourish. “It’s great. It was nothing,” she added, stepping into the space alongside Elphaba as the latter inspected it.

Elphaba eyed the corner skeptically, then began removing one of the cloth covers draped over a nearby piece of furniture. A cloud of dust immediately exploded into the air, causing her to cough violently.

“Roommates do this for each other,” Galinda continued proudly, watching Elphaba dust her way through the space. “So I’ve been told.”

Elphaba, still coughing, moved to another window, pulling more dusty cloth down as she tried to clear the area. She accidentally bumped into a few of Galinda’s well-placed—and still open—luggage bags.

“And in return, perhaps you could, um...” Galinda started, trailing after Elphaba, “let’s see—put in a good word for me with Madame Morrible? Deal?”

“That was you down there who made that all happen, I know it was,” Galinda insisted, now clinging to the luggage Elphaba had just shut.

“You heard Madame Morrible,” Elphaba said dryly, picking up one of Galinda’s flowy dresses and tossing it into the suitcase.

“But how did you do it? Tell me, please,” Galinda pleaded, grabbing the luggage tighter. “I can keep a secret!”

Elphaba had had enough. She yanked the luggage out of Galinda’s grasp, making her gasp. Galinda immediately launched into a dramatic, wordy tantrum.

“Fine, be that way! But it’s rather selfish on your part. You know I asked really nicely. And I even saved you this whole drawer—!”

Elphaba’s frustration boiled over. The wind picked up inside the room as a sudden force—her magic—slammed the balcony door shut. One mirrored panel cracked loudly, the other shattered completely, glass tinkling and scattering across the floor.

Galinda gasped, stepping back from the glass.

“There. Enjoy the air,” Elphaba muttered, forcefully slamming another one of Galinda’s bags shut. Then, without another word, she continued clearing out the rest of the blonde’s belongings from her designated corner.

After clearing out her space, Elphaba left the suite and spent the rest of the day in the library. Galinda had been long gone by then—she’d stormed out shortly after the whole window-shattering incident and Elphaba’s refusal to speak to her again. She’d left in a puff—both figuratively and literally—a cloud of pink storming off like a child throwing a tantrum (a pink child, but semantics). She had been completely dissatisfied with Elphaba’s cold, unreadable silence.

Elphaba remained in the library until it was time for dinner in the dining hall. When she arrived, she found Boq sitting alone at a table by choice, and she joined him.

“So, how did your first long interaction with Galinda go?” Boq asked, glancing at her with mild curiosity.

Elphaba gave him a look that suggested she was considering whether or not she should hex someone.

“I take that as a bad first impression,” Boq said, undeterred, slicing into the meat on his plate.

Elphaba mirrored his actions, methodically cutting her own food.

“So, did your roommate annoy you?” she asked after a moment.

Boq blinked, caught off guard. “Oh. No, not really,” he said, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him until now. His mind caught up with the fact that he did, in fact, have a roommate—Avaric Tenmeadows, the nobleman.

“I haven’t even seen him in the same room as me since we arrived,” Boq added, dabbing his mouth with a napkin and reaching for his goblet of water. As he drank, he casually reached over to pluck a grape from Elphaba’s plate.

She smacked his hand away without a word.

Chapter Text

Galinda and Elphaba had been on it for weeks now—weeks of passive-aggressive remarks flung like confetti all across Shiz University. It wasn’t even subtle anymore. Everyone knew. The professors knew. The lunch staff in the dining hall knew. The squirrels on the campus green probably knew.

Boq definitely knew.

And so did the rest of the Shiz student body, most of whom had chosen a side—and unsurprisingly, that side was Galinda. Charming, sparkling Galinda, who could turn the worst insult into something that sounded like a compliment wrapped in lace.

In their past lives, it had been like this too. Not exactly the same, but close enough. It had all come to a head back then on the night of the Ozdust Ballroom. Boq should have been used to the back-and-forth by now. But somehow, he wasn’t.

Because one minute, Elphaba and Galinda would be standing at opposite ends of the lecture hall, all teeth-baring “smiles,” and the next, they’d be nose-to-nose, throwing colorful insults like confetti cannons and shoving each other away from the last available seat.

It was—if Boq were to describe it—exhaustifying.

And as if that weren’t enough, Boq’s roommate was of absolutely no help. The guy had disappeared a week into the semester with zero explanation. No tearful goodbye, not even a scribbled note. By the end of the week, the nobleman’s chaperone had returned to pack up the lack of belongings that remained, and the space had been left completely barren.

Now Boq had the room all to himself. Not that he minded, thank you very much. The quiet was nice.

He considered taking a nap. Just for an hour. A quick one. Recharge before he had to return to the swirling chaos of Shiz’s social scene. He was just about to let his body relax into the soft promise of sleep when a knock interrupted him.

He considered yelling, but the knock had a pattern—sharp, firm, slightly impatient. Elphaba’s knock.

And even though sleep sounded divine, he stood anyway and opened the door.

Elphaba stood there, her expression promising violence, probably toward the entire student body of Shiz—and most definitely toward Galinda. Her jaw was set, her eyes burning with frustration and exhaustion.

“Bad day, huh?” Boq asked.

She didn’t answer immediately, just brushed past him and plopped down at his desk, peeling off her black vest—not the standard Shiz uniform one—and exhaled like she had been holding her breath since morning.

Then came the rant. A detailed, rapid-fire unraveling of her day, starting with how all of Galinda’s belongings somehow ended up on her side of their suite—Boq had a lot of questions about that, the logistics alone were baffling—and continuing through sorcery lessons with Madame Morrible, where her powers only responded when she was angry.

Boq listened. Half amused, half sympathetic.

And for a brief moment, he considered telling her everything—everything about the past timeline. About how all of this had already happened. How he'd already lived this life, every single twist and turn, both the good and the tragic. How he had been sent back in time by her—by Elphaba—to make sure it didn’t spiral the same way.

But he didn’t.

Because he wouldn’t let it happen again. He couldn’t.

That was the reason she had sent him back. To change the story before it became the tragedy they once lived.

So instead, he rambled about how he basically had his own suite now, albeit without the luxury of an actual suite, watching as her shoulders loosened and the tension from earlier slowly drained from her.

Maybe it was minutes. Maybe it was hours. But time stretched and shrunk as they exchanged stories about life at Shiz, the chaos, the weirdness, the little victories.

Eventually, they left his room and headed to their final class of the day.

But here’s the thing about time travel: it always catches up with you.

Boq should’ve known better. Hell, he did know better. And still, it caught him off guard.

The first flashback hit in the middle of Ozian Forestry and Agriculture. One moment he was scribbling notes, quill in hand, and the next the lecture hall blurred around him, fading into another place, another time.

Doctor Dillamond’s empty classroom.

The room was shadowed and quiet, the scent of old parchment lingering. The Goat professor stood hunched over his desk, papers strewn everywhere, his face tight with worry as he studied his research—the alarming decline of talking Animal populations in the workforce, their rights eroded, their voices silenced by powerful, unseen forces.

Then, the image shifted again.

An unfaced figure entered the room after the professor had long gone, rifling through Dillamond’s things with swift efficiency. Their hands stopped on a specific file.

And then—

Boq was back.

Back in the present. Back in his seat. The professor was dismissing the class, and his quill had fallen to the floor.

Heart pounding, he grabbed his things and shoved his way through the departing students, adrenaline buzzing through his limbs. He made it to his dorm, slammed the door shut, and slid down to the floor, back pressed against the cool wood.

He sat there, crumpled and disoriented, massaging his aching head. His hair was a mess. His clothes were wrinkled. But none of that mattered.

Because time was starting to catch up.

And somewhere else in Oz, far away from the chaos of Shiz, a blue-eyed prince jolted awake, drenched in sweat. His shirt was gone, expensive silk blankets kicked to the floor. He clutched his head, trying to make sense of the dream that had torn him from sleep—a dream that felt less like fantasy and more like memory.

Maybe it was the scandalotious amount of drinks he'd consumed the night before. That would be the easier explanation. But deep down, in the pit of his stomach, something whispered a quiet no.

This wasn’t just a dream.

It was a warning.

Chapter Text

Ever since the events of that flashback, Boq had been keeping a close eye on Elphaba and Doctor Dillamond. Between juggling his studies and social obligations, his mind remained haunted by that vision—like a warning echoing from the future. Something told him those events would begin to unfold again. And soon.

So he watched. He listened. He paid attention.

But what he hadn’t accounted for were the unknown parts of the flashback—the ones that hadn’t played out before his eyes—beginning to take shape quietly in the background.

It started tonight.

Boq had been wandering through the more secluded parts of Shiz, hoping a walk would help clear his racing thoughts. The cool night air offered a brief reprieve. But that peace was shattered by the sound of something rattling nearby. Alert, he ducked behind one of the decorative trees in the garden, narrowing his eyes toward the source of the noise.

What he saw almost made him vomit.

A group of guards—silent, efficient, and eerily casual—were unloading cages, muzzles, and other cruel devices clearly meant for silencing Animals. They chatted lightly, their tone disturbingly mundane as though they weren’t actively participating in the systematic oppression of sentient beings.

Boq’s stomach turned. And it didn’t help that he couldn’t identify them. Their uniforms bore no sigils, no colors, no crests that hinted at allegiance. Nothing to suggest where they came from or who they served.

His first instinct was to confront them—but the rifles slung over their shoulders froze him in place. He remained hidden, heart pounding, watching as they vanished into the shadows beyond the garden.

The second they were gone, he bolted. Sprinting back to his dorm, Boq’s mind spiraled. He needed to know who these guards were and what they were planning. Lying in his bed that night, he stared at the ceiling, forcing himself to calm down. Think rationally, he told himself. But sleep never came. Only questions.

By morning, Boq dragged his tired body to the lecture hall, dark circles under his eyes. As students began filtering in, he found a seat beside Elphaba, who looked focused as ever. A few moments later, Doctor Dillamond entered the room, stepping into the center beside the projector.

“All right, all right, everyone,” he said. “Settle down, ladies and gentlemen. Quiet. Quiet, everyone.”

The students gradually silenced as he adjusted the projector.

“Now then. I’ve read your recent essays,” he began, scanning the class with a fond but critical gaze, “and I’m pleased to report some progress—although some of us still tend to favor form over content... Miss Glinda,” he said, mispronouncing Galinda’s name with a bleated ‘Guh’ at the beginning.

Galinda raised her hand, frowning. “Oh, actually—it’s Ga-linda. With a Ga,” she corrected, gesturing emphatically to emphasize each syllable.

“Yes, of course, Glinda,” Doctor Dillamond replied, bleating the ‘Ga’ once again.

Galinda huffed. “I don’t see what the problem is. Every other professor manages to pronouncify my name just fine.”

Pfannee and Shenshen nodded along dutifully beside her.

Elphaba, without looking up from her parchment, interjected flatly, “Maybe the pronouncification of your precious name isn’t the sole focus of Doctor Dillamond’s life. Maybe he’s not like every other professor. Maybe... some of us are just different.”

A low murmur of amusement rippled through the classroom.

“Well,” Galinda sniffed, flipping her curls. “It seems the artichoke is steamed.”

“The worst way to cook an artichoke,” Pfannee chimed in, prompting light laughter from the room.

“Quiet, please. Please,” Doctor Dillamond said, adjusting his glasses and reclaiming the lecture. “Yes, we goats lack upper front teeth, which does account for certain... mispronunciations,” he added, addressing Galinda with a polite nod. “Miss Glinda.”

He bleated the ‘Ga’ yet again.

With the exchange settled, Doctor Dillamond turned to his lesson. He kicked a lever behind him, and the room darkened save for a shaft of light that illuminated the projector.

“You see... indeed, some of us are different,” he began. “You may have noticed I’m one of the last Animal professors still teaching here at Shiz. And while it isn’t encouraged to discuss these matters, there’s been a great shift throughout Oz—one of rejection and exclusion of Animal culture.”

The projector clicked, gears shifting as a slide displayed an old image—Animals among humans in Oz, walking, teaching, creating.

“There was a time,” he continued, “when one could walk these halls and hear a snow leopard solving an equation, or an antelope explicating a sonnet. So... when and why did that change?”

Elphaba, still serious, spoke up. “The Great Drought.”

Pfannee and Shenshen whispered complaints about her not raising her hand.

“Precisely,” Doctor Dillamond said. “Food grew scarce. And when people are hungry—and angry—they begin to look for…”

“Someone to blame,” Elphaba finished, voice quiet but clear.

“Quite right, Miss Elphaba,” he nodded, mirroring her somber tone.

Galinda raised her hand lazily.

“Yes, Miss Glinda?” Doctor Dillamond asked, bleating again.

“It’s Ga-linda,” she sighed, motioning her fingers. “And I don’t see why we can’t just learn history, instead of harping on the past all the time.”

Most of the class nodded in agreement, bored and disinterested. All but Elphaba—and Boq, who remained tense beside her.

Doctor Dillamond took a step toward the blackboard. “Because we cannot escape the past,” he said. “We ignore it at our own peril. The past explains our present circumstances.”

He pressed another lever, turning the board to reveal what was supposed to be a timeline.

Instead, in harsh, bold red letters, it read:

ANIMALS SHOULD BE SEEN AND NOT HEARD.

A shocked silence fell over the room.

Gasps, whispers, and stifled laughter buzzed faintly. Elphaba stared at the message, her expression unreadable. Boq paled, his hands shaking slightly around his quill.

No, he thought, heart sinking. It’s happening again.

Galinda and Elphaba met eyes across the room—an unspoken understanding passing between them. Their mutual disdain momentarily eclipsed by disgust at the act before them.

Doctor Dillamond looked stunned. He turned back to the class, his voice suddenly sharper.

“Who is responsible for this?”

Silence.

“I asked—who is responsible for this?”

Again, no one spoke.

“Very well then,” he said stiffly. “Class dismissed.”

The students murmured in protest.

“I said—class dismissed!” Doctor Dillamond repeated, voice rising.

Reluctantly, the students gathered their things and shuffled out. Boq and Elphaba remained behind, both silent. One haunted by the future. The other bracing for the storm to come.

Chapter Text

After the students had silently filtered out of the room, Elphaba and Boq made their way to Dr. Dillamond, ignoring the goat professor’s pleas to leave the mess in the lecture hall alone. Elphaba began picking up the knocked-over poppy flowers, while Boq tried his best to scrub away the horrendous message scrawled on the board—to no avail. It looked like it had been written in paint.

Unnamed gods above, I hope it's paint and not blood, Boq thought, terrified by both the substance potentially used and the message itself.

"Thank you. You're very kind," Dr. Dillamond said as Elphaba placed the poppies into a makeshift vase.

"Not bad," Elphaba noted, adjusting the flowers’ placement. Dr. Dillamond chuckled softly.

“Poppies are my favorite,” he said.

“Mine too,” Elphaba replied, smiling.

“They keep me cheerful in these dark times,” the professor added with a tired sigh.

“Miss Elphaba, please,” Dr. Dillamond said, his tone shifting to gentle insistence. “Go and join your friends.”

“That’s all right. I don’t have any friends,” Elphaba replied casually. Then, after a pause, she added with a small smile, “Well, Boq. And maybe one other,” she said, glancing toward Dr. Dillamond.

The professor smiled back at her warmly.

After helping clean up—well, after being gently ushered out by Dr. Dillamond, who had begun packing up his things for the day—Elphaba and Boq went their separate ways. Boq wandered off to the library to kill time, still tense from the unsettling events earlier, while Elphaba made her way to Madame Morrible’s private sorcery lessons.

Boq tried to distract himself by reading ahead on anything and everything he could get his hands on. But it was no use—his mind kept circling back to what had happened. Things were unraveling so fast.

Was this even how it went in my past life? he wondered. Have I just been blind to the small things—the ones that build up, brick by brick, into the explosive chaos that followed Elphaba’s visit to the Emerald City?

Finally admitting that his efforts to distract himself were futile, Boq packed up his things and returned the book to its designated mechanical shelf. He adjusted his glasses before stepping out of the library and heading back to his dorm.

The moment Boq opened the door to his dorm room, he let out a quiet sigh of relief. The familiar creak of the hinges and the scent of old parchment and polished wood greeted him like a friend. Without hesitation, he tugged off the stiff Shiz University vest he’d been wearing all day and tossed it over the back of his desk chair. In its place, he pulled on a cozy set of orange and blue lounge clothes from back home—soft cotton with the faint scent of his family’s washing soap still clinging to the fabric. It was like wrapping himself in a memory.

With a small grin, Boq padded over to the kettle and began brewing himself a cup of tea from a small tin he’d carefully hidden in the lining of his suitcase. He wasn’t sure if it technically counted as smuggling, but if anyone asked, he’d simply play innocent. Munchkinland tea was unmatched—fragrant, earthy, and sweet with a hint of spice. He’d tried Vinkus tea once at a cultural fair and had to admit it came close, but nothing quite beat the comfort of something from home.

As the kettle began to whistle, Boq leaned on the counter and let his thoughts drift, inevitably, to Fiyero. It was ridiculous how often his mind went there lately. The prince of the Arjikis wasn’t even in the room, yet somehow his presence loomed larger than life, tucked into the corners of Boq’s thoughts like a fire that wouldn’t die down. Fiyero was supposed to be arriving any moment now, and the mere anticipation made Boq’s heart stutter.

He blushed, annoyed at himself.

Gods, he was hopeless.

There were plenty of reasons to admire Fiyero, sure. He was tall, effortlessly cool, and had a kind of lazy charm that made him seem untouchable. But it wasn’t just that. Fiyero had moments—small, rare moments—where he said something unexpectedly insightful or looked at Boq like he saw him, not just some background character in the story of Shiz. Boq wasn’t sure if those moments meant anything or if he was just imagining them, but they lingered like fingerprints on glass.

The kettle clicked off, and Boq poured the steaming tea into his favorite ceramic cup, the one with the painted bluebird on the rim. He carried it carefully over to his bed and sat down with a sigh, placing the cup on the wooden storage box beside him. He reached over to switch on the dorm’s ventilation system—a recent upgrade and a miracle, really. The machine rumbled gently to life, sending a cool breeze circulating through the room. The air was noticeably more comfortable in seconds.

He couldn’t help but feel a little bitter as he thought back to his old dorm in his past life. No ventilation. No magic-powered comforts. Just stuffy air and sleepless summer nights. This—this was definitely the work of the Wizard, for better or worse.

As the cool air brushed over his skin and the scent of his tea filled the room, Boq curled his legs beneath him and let himself sink into the quiet. There was a nervous energy simmering under his calm exterior, the kind that only showed up when he was waiting for something—or someone—he cared too much about.

Any day or minute now, Fiyero would walk through the door of Shiz with his usual lopsided grin, sauntering in like he owned the place. And Boq, for all his intelligence and wit, still hadn’t figured out how to stop his heart from skipping a beat when he does.

With a contented sigh and thoughts of the Vinkus prince still lingering in his mind, Boq sipped his tea, savoring the warmth as he relaxed. He spent the remaining time in quiet contemplation, allowing himself a moment of peace before he was to meet with Elphaba again, once her sorcery lesson with Madame Morrible concluded.

Meanwhile, in Morrible’s office, Elphaba struggled to concentrate. She tried to absorb the content of the new lesson, but her mind was still clouded by the events from earlier that day.

“Try again,” Morrible said, standing behind Elphaba like a looming shadow. “Eyes shut. Toes clenched,” she instructed. “Now—levitate the coin.”

Morrible moved closer, guiding Elphaba’s hands into the proper position with an unsettling precision.

Elphaba obeyed, focusing hard. The coin began to rattle on the table, its trembling intensifying—until it suddenly dropped, clinking uselessly against the surface. Frustrated, Elphaba let out a grunt and slammed her hands against the table.

“It’s alright. It takes time,” Morrible said smoothly, now taking a seat beside her pupil.

“I heard there was an unfortunate disturbance in Dr. Dillamond’s class today,” she continued, feigning sympathy. “That must have been quite distressing for you.”

“Well,” Elphaba began, voice taut with emotion, “someone wrote those horrid words—on purpose—for him to see.”

Somewhere in the room, the crystals hanging from the ceiling began to tinkle softly, and the hardwood floor let out a low creak. Elphaba didn’t notice, too focused on pouring out the tangled thoughts and fury inside her. Morrible did notice, however—and she smiled like someone who had just hit the jackpot.

“I just wish I could…” Elphaba continued, the floorboards beginning to tremble underfoot.

“What?” Morrible prompted gently, a gleam in her eye. “You wish what?”

“I wish there were something I could do, because no one—”

Another loud creak interrupted her.

“No one what?” Morrible pushed, clearly goading her now. The coin on the table had started to vibrate, slowly lifting off the surface as the room quaked around them, charged with unseen energy.

“No one should be scorned or laughed at—” Elphaba went on, her voice rising with frustration as the crystals chimed above and the floor continued to groan.

“—or looked down upon or told to stop jabbering and be quiet!” she shouted, slamming her hands on the table once more.

The crystals gave one last violent tinkle as the coin shot up, crashed through a glass ornament, and clattered against something metallic in the room.

“Remarkable,” Morrible breathed, her voice rich with praise. “Absolutely remarkable.”

She smiled like a predator eyeing a prize.

“Once you learn to harness your emotions, the sky’s the limit,” Morrible added, her tone thick with promise. “It could lead you all the way to the Wizard himself.”

She laughed, pressing her forehead gently against Elphaba’s as if to seal the moment—and the pact forming between them.

After a few hours of sulking in his cold, drafty room—isolated from both the socialites and the ordinary students of Shiz—Boq reluctantly made his way out of his dorm and toward the library. He hoped to find Elphaba there, but to no avail; there was no trace of green anywhere among the towering bookshelves or reading tables.

Maybe she went to bed early, Boq thought. After all, it was already the early hours of the night.

Accepting that Elphaba was nowhere to be found, Boq decided he might as well sneak out of Shiz for a little while. Perhaps he'd wander into the Enchanted Forest or explore the more secluded areas of the university grounds—just in case someone was watching the gates.

As he was about to descend the winding staircase that led to the main entrance, he froze.

There, just beyond the last flight of stairs, stood Elphaba, peering down toward the courtyard. She was watching silently as Doctor Dillamond exited the university grounds for the night. A few students were gathered nearby, bidding the Goat professor a polite goodbye and goodnight.

As Boq made his way toward Elphaba, he immediately noticed her stance—and the red warning lights inside him blared in alarm.

To people who didn’t know Elphaba, they might’ve ignored the way she was watching the Goat professor. Maybe they’d dismiss it as simple concern, chalking it up to her worrying over Doctor Dillamond without a second thought.

But Boq knew his best friend better than that.

And that stance of hers? It meant one thing: Elphaba was about to get involved. She was going to dig into whatever was going on—and she wasn’t going to stop until she uncovered the truth.

So, with the determined precision of someone who liked running without tripping over his own feet and making a fool of himself, Boq ran toward Elphaba, who was just starting to head down the same path Doctor Dillamond had taken.

“Where do you think you're going?” Boq asked, grabbing her wrist gently.

Elphaba looked like a deer caught in headlights for a split second before schooling her expression back to its usual composed state.

“I'm following Doctor Dillamond,” she said, like it was the most natural thing in the world—and not at all like she was lowkey stalking the Goat professor.

Boq internally facepalmed.

“Yeah, I figured that,” he replied dryly. “Elphaba, are you completely out of it? I want to find out what happened to Doctor Dillamond too, but sneaking around is not exactly the best approach.”

“Well then maybe you,” Elphaba said, emphasizing the word with a pointed tap of her nail against his chest, “should stay here and let me do the sneaking. Like the good little student you are.”

There was no heat behind her words—just that usual playful edge she got when she was being stubborn.

Boq considered bonking her on the head with the nearest stick he could find, but wisely fought the urge.

Instead, he took a breath. And then another.

Stay calm, Boq. You're not in Munchkinland anymore. You don’t want to be chaotic and messy here at Shiz—especially not around Elphaba when she’s got that look in her eye. The look that says she’s going to stick her nose into something until she finds the answers.

And with that, he decided to follow her. Because—well, sue him—he wanted to know what was going on too. That gnawing voice in his head wouldn’t shut up, whispering that whatever happened to Doctor Dillamond was just the tip of something much bigger.

As they made their way out of Shiz and into wherever Doctor Dillamond had gone, the silence stretched between them—tense but not uncomfortable—until Boq finally spoke.

“Just so we’re clear,” he said, “if something happens to me on this little adventure and I end up dead, just know I’ll be haunting you for the rest of your life.”

He grumbled the words playfully while adjusting his glasses.

Elphaba let out a wholehearted laugh at his dramatics.

“Sure, Boq,” she replied dryly. “Sure.”

Then she reached over and ruffled his hair, making him swat at her hand with a glare as she messed up his carefully arranged curls.

Chapter Text

All in all, Boq didn’t hate his current life choices—that is, trailing after Elphaba as they followed Doctor Dillamond, the Goat Professor.

Did he wish he had just stayed behind in his cozy, cold dorm room, rotting away with his books? Absolutely. But then again, there was that nagging voice somewhere in the back of his head.

And gods, did he really want to know what Doctor Dillamond’s involvement was in this whole thing that had cannonballed into a chaotic mess: Elphaba versus the entirety of Oz.

So, alas, he had no choice but to tag along.

(That’s a lie. He would always join Elphaba on this journey, even if there weren’t a nagging feeling inside him.)

It had been a few minutes since they started tailing Doctor Dillamond. The Goat Professor walked several feet ahead, seemingly in a hurry.

Perhaps he was heading home. Or going to meet someone. Or both, Boq thought.

The moment Doctor Dillamond reached the threshold of what appeared to be his home, Elphaba and Boq ducked behind a bush several feet away. The professor turned suddenly, casting a sharp glance behind him before unlocking his door and slipping inside, closing it swiftly behind him—as though wary of any watching eyes that might pose a threat.

After a few minutes of crouching in silence (and several cramps later for Boq), they crept closer to the hut. Elphaba peered through the window, and Boq followed.

And just like that, both of Boq’s suspicions were confirmed.

Yes, the Goat Professor had come home for the night—and yes, he had company. Several Animals were gathered in the room, all from different walks of life and professions, speaking in hushed, urgent voices.

Boq and Elphaba tried to eavesdrop from the window, but it was difficult. First, because they were outside. Second, because the conversation inside was barely above a whisper.

But Elphaba, ever the determined one, didn’t seem content to leave things there.

No.

She decided to break in.

“Elphaba? Hey! Elphaba, what are you doing—Elphaba! Oh, for Lurline’s sake!” Boq whisper-shouted as she slipped halfway through the door.

He scratched his head, stomped his foot in indecision, then finally followed her inside, muttering a string of curses about how stupid and risky this all was.

The moment they stepped into the room, Boq felt his heart drop.

The Animals were talking about the recent wave of anti-Animal sentiment spreading throughout Oz.

“A dear friend of mine—” Doctor Dillamond began.

“A deer?” a piebald deer asked, confused.

“A cow, actually,” Dillamond corrected. “She’s been speaking out at protests. Recently, she wrote to me, asking to meet at a café. She said it was urgent.”

“What did she tell you?” a snow leopard asked.

“She never showed,” Dillamond replied. “No one’s seen her since.”

“Many Animals have gone missing,” the deer added. “Or are leaving altogether.”

“Yesterday,” a raccoon said, “a badger acquaintance of mine—a solicitor—was sacked just for arguing a case.”

“At least he could still argue,” Dillamond muttered bitterly.

“What do you mean?” the snow leopard asked.

“Let me show you,” Dillamond said gravely. “I’ve heard of an ox, a professor from Quox—no longer permitted to teach, and he’s lost all powers of speech.”

“Oh no…” Elphaba whispered beside Boq as they listened from just inside the study door.

“Can’t speak?” the piebald deer asked, shocked.

“And an owl in Munchkin Rock,” Dillamond continued. “A vicar with a thriving flock—now forbidden to preach.”

“No…” the piebald deer said in disbelief.

“Now, he can only screech,” Dillamond said. “Only rumors, but still—enough to give pause to anyone with paws. Something bad is happening in Oz.”

“No,” a tamarin monkey whispered, shaken. “Something bad?”

“That’s it. I’m leaving Oz,” the snow leopard said abruptly.

The piebald deer gasped.

“While I can still speak the word *goodbye*,” the snow leopard added.

“No, you can’t,” the piebald deer pleaded.

“Oh, leave Oz?” said a bird professor with a deep frown.

Beside Boq, Elphaba stood pale and rigid, bracing herself against the doorframe like she had just been hit by an invisible force.

“Someone’s there,” one of the Animals said, noticing movement. “What is it?” another asked.

Doctor Dillamond turned and opened the door to reveal them both.

“Miss Elphaba. Mr. Woodsman,” he said curtly. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, we were just—uh…” Elphaba stammered.

“It’s all right,” Dillamond interrupted gently. “Quickly, come inside.”

He ushered them in and added, “Let me get you both some tea.”

“Doctor Dillamond… What you were just saying—” Elphaba began. “Could that really happen?”

“It *is* happening,” Dillamond said solemnly. “You’ll find, if you make it discouraging enough, you can keep anyone silent.”

“But if Animals are losing the ability to speak... if they’re leaving Oz… then someone has to tell the Wizard,” Elphaba said firmly.

“Listen to me, both of you,” Dillamond pleaded. “You mustn’t tell another soul what you’ve heard or seen tonight.”

“But that’s *why* we have a Wizard,” Elphaba said, defiant. “So nothing bad happens to anyone in Oz.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Dillamond said with a weary sigh. “So nothing *truly* bad…” His voice cracked, and the glass he held slipped from his hand, shattering on the floor.

“Sorry,” he said, shaking slightly. “I must be catching a cold.”

“Oz bless you, Doctor Dillamond,” Elphaba said softly.

In the distance, there was a loud clattering sound.

“You’d better go,” Dillamond urged. “Here—take the lamp.”

He handed it to them, and with great reluctance, Boq and Elphaba left the professor’s hut.

As they walked, the sounds of chirping insects and distant Animal calls filled the silence between them.

“Well, that was... horrendible,” Boq muttered, still rattled. His head throbbed with the weight of everything they’d just heard.

“Boq, I’m worried,” Elphaba said. “The Animals’ rights are being stripped away by these horrendible people, and we can’t even do anything about it—Whoa! Whoa!”

She screamed as a galloping horse suddenly barreled into their path, knocking them into the leaves. Boq grunted as the breath was knocked out of him.

“Whoa there!” a voice called. The horse snorted. “Whoa,” the man repeated.

“I did not see them,” the horse said.

“Yeah, neither did I,” the rider added, dismounting.

“Sorry—I didn’t see you there. You must’ve… blended into the foliage,” the man said apologetically.

Boq, too busy dusting himself off and looking for his glasses, didn’t pay attention at first—until he looked up.

And then his breath was knocked out again, but for a very different reason.

Standing before them was Fiyero Tigelaar.

Boq gaped.

“Is that how you go through life? Just running amok and trampling anyone in your path?” Elphaba snapped.

“No,” Fiyero said helplessly, while his horse companion chuckled.

“No, sometimes I’m asleep,” he added, still gazing at Elphaba.

Elphaba scoffed softly. “All right, here we go. No, I’m not seasick.”

“Neither am I,” Fiyero replied smoothly.

“No, I did not eat grass as a child.”

“Oh, you didn’t? I did,” Fiyero said with a grin.

“And yes, I’ve always been green,” Elphaba finished flatly.

“And the defensiveness—is that a recent development?” Fiyero teased.

The horse—Feldspur, Boq’s mind supplied—chuckled again as Elphaba stared daggers at Fiyero, clearly ready to hex him.

“Fabala, let’s get going,” Boq said, eager to escape before Fiyero said something even more stupid—or charming—and jeopardized their mission.

But the moment he spoke, Fiyero’s attention shifted to him.

And oh. Oh no.

Those damn blue eyes were looking at him—*really* looking at him—the same way Fiyero used to look at Galinda. At Elphaba.

No. This wasn’t real. He must’ve hit his head. He was clearly delusional.

Yeah. That had to be it.

But no. Fiyero was still looking at him… and now he was smirking.

Boq had to get out of here. Fast.

“I’m off for some more trampling,” Fiyero said cheerfully. “May we offer you a ride?”

Elphaba glared.

“No thanks. Get stuffed,” she said, turning around and tugging Boq with her.

Boq glanced back—only to see Fiyero wave at him.

Suddenly, Boq felt like he was on fire from how hard he was blushing.

“Well, Feldspur,” Fiyero said, watching them go, “looks like we’ve been spurned.”

“Hmm. Indeed,” the horse replied.

“I guess there’s a first time for everything,” Fiyero said.

Feldspur neighed in agreement.

Later that night, back in his dorm, Boq stripped off his clothes and took a long bath, his thoughts still spinning.

Fiyero had arrived—but hadn’t even reached Shiz yet.

For Lurline’s sake.

It was about to get even more complicated.

Chapter Text

Boq didn’t get much sleep last night—for several reasons.

First, there was the situation with the Animals: their rights rapidly declining, many being removed from their positions, and some even losing their voices. And second, there was Fiyero Tigelaar.

Gods, any moment now, he’ll set foot in Shiz.

And Boq hopes it isn’t right now, not at this ungodly hour of the day.

Resigning himself to the fact that no real sleep would come, Boq got up and prepared for his first subject of the day:

Ozian History.

Great. Just great.

It wasn’t that he hated history per se, but the Shiz-issued curriculum felt rooted in propaganda—crafted to uplift one demographic and suppress another.

But semantics and all that.

He brewed himself a cup of tea he’d smuggled from home and sat at the little table squeezed into the corner of his dorm. He stared at nothing, thinking of the next best approach to deal with the growing anti-Animal sentiments. The movement was progressing quickly. Too quickly. It wasn’t like he could storm into some government office and yell at whoever was responsible. Not unless he wanted to end up battered—or worse.

So, waiting it is.

But then Boq remembered: the last "next big thing" was Dr. Dillamond’s sudden removal, right after the Ozdust Ballroom. Nothing in between.

That certainly put a dent in his hope.

With a sigh, he downed the last of his tea and got ready for the day.

The moment he entered the lecture hall, he spotted Elphaba sitting beside Nessa. She looked far more rested than he did—which, honestly, sucked. Boq looked like death incarnate.

History class went on just as expected: dull, repetitive, and frustratingly biased. Boq didn’t find it “thrillifying” in the slightest.

Honestly, he’d rather be present for Fiyero’s arrival. Thank you very much.

Speaking of Fiyero, Boq glanced over at Galinda. Poor soul—she had no idea that Fiyero was about to sweep her off her feet. She wouldn’t know what hit her when he arrived. Not that Boq could deny they looked perfect together. Aesthetic-wise, anyway.

Eventually, the professor’s droning ended, and class was dismissed. Boq gathered his things and started heading back to his dorm when—*smack*—a newspaper hit him square in the face. Rude.

He tried to read it, but other students snatched it from his hands. Again: rude.

With a huff, Boq stood on his tiptoes and snatched the paper back.

“I *was* reading that, thank you very much,” he said with as much sarcasm and sass as he could muster.

Adjusting his glasses, he scanned the headline again—because surely, he was dreaming.

**SHIZ GAZETTE: PRINCE FIYERO SPOTTED AT SHIZ**

Boq quickly stuffed the paper into his satchel and rushed back to his dorm to freshen up—just in time for Miss Coddle’s voice to blare from the loudspeakers.

“*Attention, students. It is my honor to announce that Prince Fiyero Tigelaar of the Winkie Country will be joining our student body, having transferred from the Royal Winkie Academy. Please help him feel welcome—without making direct eye contact.*”

Boq scrunched his nose in confusion. “Winkie?” he whispered. “Isn’t that a slur for Arjikis?” He muttered to no one in particular, “I think you meant *Arjikis*, Miss Coddle, thank you very much.”

He pulled out a matching yellow blazer and pants from his dresser, paired it with a blue silk undershirt, slipped his shoes back on, and made his way out—just in time for Fiyero’s grand entrance.

And oh, what a *delightful* sight it was—Fiyero waltzing into Shiz with Feldspur trotting right behind him.

Watching the entire student body collectively lose their minds? Absolutely hilarious.

Elphaba thought the whole thing was ridiculous. Apparently, Galinda had been screeching and tapping her shoes the entire time she got ready in their shared suite. Again—hilarious.

Not that Boq wasn’t losing it, too. He was just... more composed.

Which is why he now stood beside Galinda in front of Ozma’s statue. Elphaba had already left with Nessa to the library, muttering something about how idiotic it was to waste a perfectly good study session over a prince who almost trampled them the other night with his horse.

Boq had waved them off with a promise to join later, turning his attention back to the scene—just in time for Fiyero to head in their direction.

“*Bick,* do you realize who that is?” Galinda practically screeched, completely butchering his name. “That’s Fiyero Tigelaar! He’s the Winkie prince with the most *scandalotious* reputation!”

In another life, Boq would’ve been ecstatic that Galinda was touching his shoulder. Now, he just found it hilarious.

“It’s *Boq*, not Bick, thank you very much,” he retorted. “And yes, I do know who that is. The newspaper that *assaulted* me this morning made sure of it.”

Bantering with Galinda was... nice. Were they even friends? Boq didn’t know. But after this—and the Ozdust later—he intended to make sure of it.

Back to the matter at hand:

Fiyero had just stopped in front of them.

“Were you looking for something?” Galinda asked with a hair-flip. “Or *someone*?”

“Yes. Some sort of history class. Somewhere over there,” Fiyero answered, sounding bored out of his mind.

Some things never change.

“That’s the history building,” Boq said, pointing to the west wing. Galinda, too starry-eyed to respond, just stood there.

“That class just ended,” Galinda added, tapping Boq’s chest like a buzzer. Right. Embarrassing.

“Well, I *did* promise a guided tour to any new students...” Galinda started.

“Hm,” Fiyero replied, clearly uninterested in anything academic.

“Wait—are you... a new student?” she asked.

“I am, yeah.”

“Oh, I didn’t know,” Galinda said.

*You know damn well,* Boq thought, shooting her a look. Galinda returned one that said *shut up*. Boq rolled his eyes. He really had spent too much time with Elphaba—it was starting to show.

“Though I’m not sure I’ll last here longer than I did at the other schools,” Fiyero said.

*Again. Some things never change,* Boq thought.

“But I wasn’t at any of your *other* schools,” Galinda replied. Boq barely suppressed a laugh.

The whole time, Fiyero kept looking at Boq, likely trying to remember where he’d seen him before. And that? That was dangerous. Boq should probably leave.

Sensing the tension—or just wanting Fiyero’s attention—Galinda cleared her throat.

“So, the school tour I promised?” she said sweetly, linking arms with Fiyero and dragging him away.

Boq gave her a quick wave and turned toward the library, grateful for Galinda’s timing.

Once he reached the library doors, he sighed in relief and found Elphaba and Nessa at their usual table.

“Oh, look what the wind dragged in,” Elphaba said dryly, not looking up. Nessa tried and failed to hide her laugh.

“Ha ha. Nice joke, Fabala. You should be *grateful* I even followed through on my promise.”

“I wish you hadn’t.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll take that as a ‘thank you, Boq, for gracing us with your presence,’” he replied, plopping down beside her and grabbing a book from her stack.

Several minutes passed in silence.

Then came the click of heels and the overwhelming scent of roses: Galinda.

So much for peace and a Fiyero-free afternoon.

Boq tried to ignore the two of them, but Galinda’s voice cut through:

“And this is, um, the book place! There’s a collection of rare books here somewhere. And some medium-rare.”

Boq looked at Elphaba, who looked at him and mouthed, *Book place?* She shook her head in either disbelief or amusement. Probably both.

“Well, there’s *so* many to choose from,” Fiyero said, matching Galinda’s flirtatious tone.

“Right?” Galinda giggled.

From behind them, the peanut gallery swooned.

“As much as I enjoy you droning on about the boring act of thinking,” Fiyero said, “what do you *do* for fun around here—besides studying?”

Galinda, clearly disheartened by the lack of extracurricular excitement, just shrugged.

“You ever been to the Ozdust Ballroom?” Fiyero asked suddenly, eyes twinkling.

“The Ozdust? Isn’t that... illegal?” Galinda whispered. “And *scandalocious*?”

“Yeah, both. And also not that far from here,” Fiyero replied nonchalantly, completely ignoring the fact that someone might tattle.

Boq, now developing a headache, decided it was time to head to his dorm.

But that didn’t happen. One of the peanut gallery girls bumped into him, knocking him—and his book—to the floor. His glasses landed in five different directions.

Boq groaned, adjusted his glasses, and reached for the fallen book, ready to cuss someone out.

Then: “Whoa,” Fiyero said, laughing. Rude. “You all right?” he asked, offering Boq a hand.

“Yeah,” Boq grunted, letting Fiyero effortlessly pull him up. And no, he was *not* thinking about how strong Fiyero’s grip was. Not at all.

“I’m Fiyero Tigelaar,” he said, "from Winkie Country," turning to flash a flirtatious smile at Galinda and the peanut gallery.

“Boq Woodsman,” he replied. “From Munchkinland.”

Fiyero shook his hand, not breaking eye contact once.

And now? Everyone was staring. Boq didn’t care. Not when he was locked in what felt like a slow-burn flirty staredown with royalty.

Galinda cleared her throat. Loudly.

“What were you saying about the Ozdust and fun and... you and me?”

Just like that, the moment ended. Fiyero turned to her, smiled, and let himself be dragged off again.

Boq followed.

“It’s against Shiz rules to go into town,” Boq pointed out, not-so-secretly disappointed.

Fiyero suddenly looped his arms around both of them. Boq looked *everywhere* but at his face—and failed miserably.

“I see that once again, the responsibility of corrupting my fellow students falls to me,” Fiyero whispered conspiratorially.

Dangerous territory, that.

He released them, spun Galinda around like a bride in pink, and said, “So. Pick you up at eight?”

Then he winked and walked away, leaving behind two speechless students.

Galinda shrieked—almost breaking the sound barrier—and was immediately shushed by the librarian.

Boq couldn’t help but smile.