Author's Note: So, I'm not even going to bother apologizing for not working on the other stories. You all know I feel bad about it.

But this came to me yesterday in a dream – a highly strange and a little more… tasteless dream than this story will be. But yes, a dream. That has NEVER happened to me. At first, I thought the idea was ridiculous, but it wouldn't get out of my head. All day today, I went through this story in my head on my breaks, on my downtime. And I realized I had to write it.

This is going to be a little bit AU. And just slightly in the direction of "Yes, Master," except… not. I don't know how to explain it except to let you read it. No summaries of my ideas for you! But yes, it's Fiyeraba. I don't know about Shiz, I don't know about Nessa or Nanny or Shell (and you'll see about Frex pretty soon). Or even Galinda. This is, in many ways, an experiment. If you don't like it, then I'm sorry. But I want to play with this.

Prologue: Ambush

They had known the Scrow were at war when her father went to preach to them. He had said, "In trying times, they'll need a god, and who better than the Unnamed God?" But he had left Nessa, Nanny and Shell behind. Poor Nessie couldn't be too close to such terrible sights, and Shell was much too young. Frex needed Elphaba, however. She had the voice. Only the Scrow king and nobles spoke any of the common language, but anyone could understand that Elphaba's beautiful voice was a blessing disguised in a body of sin, Frex had insisted. From what she had heard (which wasn't much, because she couldn't understand Vinkun dialects), they weren't in that much danger, anyway. Clearly, she hadn't heard enough.

She hadn't yet begun to sing when the Arjiki mounted their surprise attack on this isolated Scrow encampment. In fact, she hadn't said a word. When the tattooed men rushed in, she did not scream, or say anything at all. Elphaba was too overcome with shock. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her father attempt to run, and she saw the spear take him down, straight through the chest. Even then, she couldn't make a sound.

Then a hand clamped around her wrist and an Arjiki soldier, with tattooed orange ovals on his skin, dragged her roughly out of the large tent where her father had been preaching. He threw her into a cage on wheels with other women, all about her age. She looked around frantically. The other women were all Scrow, chattering and babbling things she could not make out.

They were pulled by two horses somewhere west. It was hot, and journey took at least two hours, Elphaba guessed from the movement of the sun and shadows. They arrived at the Arjiki encampment as the sun was beginning to set, and all of the women were ushered into a large tent where they were shackled at the wrists and ankles. A medicine woman took them out of the tent one at a time and returned them minutes later. Guards were posted at both the entrance and exit of the tent.

She didn't know why the medicine woman was examining her. The old woman muttered off things in a language she didn't understand, presumably to the young woman who was taking notes beside her. Then she unshackled Elphaba's legs and began to push them open.

It was then that Elphaba realized what was going on. She had just been captured as an Arjiki sex slave.