"And the scorn should pass forever, and the heavens opened, all because Melena Thropp will rest here, away from this darkened city, and prosper forever. Amen."
"Amen."
The third Amen was indeed present at the funeral, but no one heard it. The voice was muffled under the darkened cloak intended to keep the eldest Thropp warm, but did nothing to hide the sick feeling in her stomach.
Her mother was dead.
They all stood on the highest hill in the city, the snow biting their ankles and the wind gusting snowfall around them. The priest closed his book and asked for a moment of silence, yet no one had been or would speak in the future. They were all cold and quiet. After a few moments of the deafening silence, Frex cleared his throat.
"Goodbye, my love."
Of course, she was dead. Dead, in giving birth to her third child, who was sound asleep in the nurse's arms, its little nose red and the eyelids a slight pink. Shell, the only son of Frexspar, had been born. This new beginning caused a new end.
Frex did not bother to hold it, and waved away the nurse as she brought the child to him. Nessarose piped up from her wheelchair and took one of Frex's hands in hers.
"Father..." She shivered. "Father, I want to go home. I'm cold." She shook on the spot, her little teeth rattling.
It is always about you, Nessarose, is it? The cloaked child Elphaba teased in her mind. Whatever Nessa wanted, Nessa would get. Elphaba stepped forward and scopped away snow from the ground with her hands, and pulled out a mound of dirt from the ground below. It was hard and cold in her bare hands, but she held it tight.
Shuffling to the grave, Elphaba peered down at her mother's beautiful face.
"Why are her eyes open?" She asked quietly.
The priest sighed and Frex ripped away from Nessarose to grab Elphaba's hair.
"You little bitch."
"Father, I just can't get dirt into mammy's eyes, I can't!"
"Throw the dirt, Elphaba Thropp. Who's watching? She's dead. Your mother is dead."
"She's only asleep, papa."
The priest stepped forward and coughed. "Ah...sir." He pointed up at the sky with one crooked finger and pushed the holy book into Frex's hand. "Let's not forget who indeed is watching, my brother."
Frex heard him. He took a look up at the dark clouds and hung his hand, muttering a silent prayer to the Unnamed. His fingers roughly let go of his daughter's hair and he pushed her forward. "Throw it, then."
Elphaba turned and aided her father and priest in throwing the dirt into the ground, and cried for her mother when she could not. When all was covered, she lay on the ground, placing her head in the dirt, desperate to hear one final heartbeat.
"Let's leave."
Frex went to the others, throwing the holy book into the mound of earth on his way, and scooped Nessa into his arms, once again waving off the extending nurse. "We're leaving, Elphaba!" he hissed.
She had to do it. The girl lifted her head, and her cloak slipped back, causing her emerald green skin to glow in the moonlight. Quickly, with shaking hands she pulled it up over her head, and focused.
Her talent had to be extraordinary. She was amazing and her mother told her so. Waving her hands over the dirt, she closed her eyes. Please...something...anything...that I can give her...
She opened her eyes and did not look for a moment, ignoring her father's impatient hisses and praying to her god to bring her mother back. But death was death, and she lifted her head.
A single flower lay where she had performed magic.
Hearing her father's final call, she turned and hid her tears.