Author's Note: I disclaim.

Something a little different, eh? I'm five chapters ahead with this one, and I don't want to keep it back any longer. Be warned, this will be quite angsty and not a completely happy-go-lucky fanfiction. I can't stand reading fics where nothing remotely real ever happens, but you should know that I'm adopting a Jane Austen approach to my fics. It's a lovely philosophy for fanfic writers, I think.


"Mama, can I please go out to play now?" The little frog begged, her pigeon-toed feet tensing and relaxing in anticipation. She so desperately wished for her freedom for the day, and she had worked hard at being some kind of a young lady for the best portion of the morning.

"Little Elphaba, of course you may." Her mother allowed, cupping her beautifully pointed chin in her hand and smiling sweetly as she only did to her precious burdened daughter. In a bright and dirty flash of green the child whirled around and battered through the back door like a rolling clap of thunder.

A deep voice spoke then, with a hint of irritation about it. "Melena, you are rewarding her good behaviour by giving her permission to misbehave?"

"Frexspar, she is hardly misbehaving. Your Fabala is an uncontrollable spirit and she will do what she will. Like myself, I might add, and since you dote on me I do not understand your being stand-offish with her."

"She is green." He said, as though it were an explanation.

"And you think she chose to be that way? Did she select the colour whilst she grew? Did she favour it above pink or white or ochre? I think not, and neither did we. It is simply her skin, and nothing more and that is the end of it." Tired of the topic, she fluttered from his sight into her bedroom and sang to the new baby that she nursed in her body, with the secret and perhaps vindictive wish that it, too, would be coloured as sinfully as her little Elphaba.


"Eat the little flowers, my love. It'll help us." Her husband soothed the lumpy mixture with a wooden spoon and held it out to her in a delicate little china glass that Melena herself had painted while pregnant with her daughter.

"In what way? Do you think I am so simple-minded that I won't question you and your methods? I am not a feeble-minded woman, no matter what your ministry tells its fickle flock about my sex." She was in an irritable mood today and had no mind to merely tease him or placate him by consuming the flowers. She did not take them daily and had no reason to assume they were effective – for better or for worse. Frexspar counted on them as a last resort against whatever it was that had caused his daughter's verdant hue.

Melena had a keener inkling which lay in a strange green bottle marked 'Green Elixir' that she kept hidden in a box of precious things. One day it and its contents would belong to Elphaba. It was not merely its bright emerald colour which made Melena want to make a gift of it to her eldest, but within her there lay a stronger inkling which she had buried for the sake of preserving her family life. Let her little Elphaba cherish it as a keepsake because it was pretty, and nothing more.

Frex held the cup only for a moment before giving up for the day. In his heart he knew they might work for nothing. He might be backing a horse that was good for glue and nothing else. He had to try something. It was an entirely unselfish move; he could not imagine how much unhappiness the little frog might suffer under her affliction and there was no reason to pretend it was anything other than the horrendous disease he assumed it was.

What possible good could come of it? As he poured the liquid away for another day, he heard Melena sing another melody to baby Elphaba. He dare not make a sound as she would always stop when she knew he was in earshot. She never sang for him, though he loved it so.

And the cup stood on the counter, empty and impotent.


Little Elphaba did not understand why she was not allowed to see her mother now. The baby, her sister, had been born some time ago now and Mama had said they would share a night's sleep together as they always did.

But the days and nights went quietly by and still she did not sleep next to her beautiful Mama. She could smell her perfume and her hair and hear her singing tuneful, soulful melodies. Elphaba had always been made to sing back to her when she went out to wander, so her Mother would always know she could hear and be heard and that she was safe and sound. Now when the little frog hummed a line, nobody responded.

She was not even let in to the nursery to peek at the silent little baby. Elphaba thought her sister would be shy, as she barely made any noise and she imagined she had enough confidence for both of them. It did not signify; Elphaba would always be a good sister to her. As the days rolled by, she had a strange and sad feeling that little baby would never hear their Mama's voice.

The Queen stood frozen to her place. A small circle was the only space she occupied in the cavernous chamber while her husband, the King, paced silently back and forth before her. They awaited the arrival of the physician. He held their lives in his hands, and more importantly, the life of their only son.

A click and a creak frightened them. A door opened in the left hand corner of the room, just below a golden silk tapestry that depicted a harmonious Vinkun tribe in a violent and successful hunt in the mountains. They each took a deep and shaking breath as they watched the gruff man stride over to them.

"The fever has not – the fever will not take your son."

The Queen sobbed quietly, her tears released as her husband embraced her and tried to school his own expression.

"He will grow as he should, and has been consuming healthy amounts of food for his age. We will monitor his growth, of course." The relieved couple nodded and thanked him tensely. "However, such a fierce disease I fear, has taken its toll." The doctor cleared his throat. "He is not responding to sound or noise of any kind. His focal health appears perfectly normal, and yet I should expect him to have no use of hearing during his lifetime."

"What?" The King asked, highly distressed and clutching his wife's hands for dear life.

"Your son has been made permanently deaf by his illness. I am so sorry."

The Queen cried hysterically into her husband's royal livery. The whole situation seemed entirely impossible.


"Oh thank Oz for that." Elphaba exclaimed, shoving bustling passengers out of her way as she fought to keep her balance and her place on the platform. This University had better be worth all the hustle and bustle that seemed to permeate around it. So far the place was entirely contradicting the scenes of tranquil contemplation and reflection its brochures and guides had so proudly boasted. It was like a marketplace, just like every other marketplace, only the wares were not chickens and milk and cloth and wood, but ideas, papers, debates and knowledge.

Huffing, Elphaba ploughed through the stationhouse and onto the marginally less busy streets of Shiz University. Whatever its noise or clamour, she loved it deeply. Anything would be better than the soul-sucking mudflats and marshes of Munchkinland and everything was more glamorous and beautiful. She wondered how long it would be before she cynically loathed the government buildings for their hypocrisy and worshipped the coffee houses as seats of rebellion.

Her excitement had let her escape the inevitable looks of horror, shock and confusion that fell upon her as the people of Shiz clocked her skin and tried to find an appropriate reaction. Elphaba had seen it so many times that she merely carried on purposefully down the road to her lodgings at Crage Hall, telling herself that she need not be so concerned with their views as she would likely never see them again.

As the buildings that she knew so well from the pamphlets and newspapers came into her view, she relaxed her posture and lessened her speed a little, knowing she would have four years – what a lifetime that was to her – to drink it all in and become intoxicated by its grandeur. They were high and magnificent stone structures. So important, so wonderful and sobering that they reminded her what was expected of her academic career. It was almost as though the tall spires that pierced the clouds set the benchmark, the standard which they were all to achieve or surpass if they could.

Elphaba could not wait to try her green-skinned hand.

She charged into the registry, joining the queue formed by students waiting to collect their room keys and have their luggage carried to their respective lodgings. Of course, those behind her watched incredulously as she stood, like so many others, and patiently waited her turn. Happily those in front of her were not yet mortally wounded by the offensive sight of her.

They did gasp and mutter, however, so this reprieve did not last long. Pony-tailed heads and curls and plaits suddenly turned from view to be replaced by horror-stricken expressions. Elphaba smiled at them all. At least one good thing could come from it; her presence there seemed to provide a perfect excuse for them all to become immediate and very good friends. She was their outcast, as usual. She chuckled sarcastically at the typical result of her arrival.

A silent but very painful stab accompanied it. A pain she was accustomed to, but which was no less hurtful. None of these contorted faces belonged to anyone who would befriend her, but she did not make this thought evident to her new enemies.

"What do you want?" The poor woman at the desk to which she was called looked absolutely petrified. She glanced at Elphaba once, maybe twice, before deciding that she could hardly stand the sight of her and steadfastly avoiding any eye contact.

"Well, good morning to you. That is a very rude way to greet me, I think. Have I ever done anything to you? I think not. I merely walked in here and waited in that queue you see and you seem to have decided I am some sort of evil sorceress." The woman was quite young. Perhaps not young, but middle-aged and definitely not as decrepit as some of the women she had seen shuffling and creaking about so far. With a sigh that nothing she said would make any important difference, Elphaba continued. "My name is Elphaba Thropp. I am the Governor's daughter, from Munchkinland."

"She's from Munchkinland? What a funny looking Munchkin!" One stupid, high-pitched voice cried. Elphaba clenched her teeth and span in its direction. The culprit, a bleach-blonde girl with a fine suede pink beret and perfectly formed rose-tinted lips that were curled into a self-satisfied smile froze as Elphaba saw her.

"Here are your keys. Girl! Excuse me, girl, here are your keys!" The clerk cried out desperately, rudely interrupting her retort to the little pink puff and calling her by her gender, for some reason which the green girl did not wish to know.

"Elphaba Thropp." She pronounced carefully, leaning closer and sneering at the pathetic old woman. "You may call me Miss Thropp, thank you."

Elphaba stalked along the halls of Crage. Well, she hardly stalked, but the shrieks of passing students and staff meant it certainly felt as though she crept not unlike the amphibious creatures that scuttle on the murky floors of marshes and murky mythical lakes.

Ignoring them all, she reached her door which she remarked shone brilliantly. The wood was dark damask and carved with only the most beautiful symbols of nature and fertility, meant to inspire academic confidence.

She opened the door to a well-sized room that waited being furnished by its residents. There were two beds on either side of the door, two bathrooms again on the right and left and two windows with large panels and window seats. They were separated by a fireplace filled with dry wood and with extra lying to the side.

There were two desks and two chairs to match them. Elphaba wondered whether her roommate would make the same use of her writing desk as she.

Elphaba let a pretty tune escape her lips as she quite happily set about settling in her solitude. She enjoyed being alone; it was a wonderful time for her own thoughts and if she were forced to be alone in public it was always with the knowledge that people were watching her. At least when in her room she was genuinely free to do and say whatever she wished.

She could take off all her clothes and parade about with naked pride and would that not have shaken them to their very cores had she done it outside? Elphaba laughed at the thought as she hung up a limp blue shift in the cold cupboard next to her bathroom. She thought about what else she had to do and there was almost nothing for they began classes the very next day.

Elphaba fingered her schedule and memorised it a little before she tucked it away in a drawer and decided to run a bath.


Let me know what you think. More to come soon.