This story is loosely based off of the movie 'The Young Victoria'. It is about Queen Victoria, the second longest reigning British monarch, as she rose to power and met her husband, Prince Albert. I watched this movie in my tenth grade Global History class and I really enjoyed it. It's also on Netflix, if anyone wants to check it out.

This story is 21 chapters long. This is the first story that actually managed to completely finish writing before beginning to post and I'm very proud of it.

Some people are born more fortunate than others. This was the case with me. But my childhood convinced me of the direct opposite. But what little girl doesn't wish to be a princess?

Actually, I should lay the rumors of me being a princess to rest. I am not a princess. Well… it's not my official title, but possibly the equivalent.

I come from a long line of power. My family is the oldest and most powerful family in all of Munchkinland. The Thropp family line has maintained control over the Eminency of Munchkinland for the last two hundred twenty-four years. Some say that Ozma herself had instated the first Eminent, Ignacious Thropp, as the power of Munchkinland. There are many other stories and theories as well, but that one is the most popular.

But getting back to me. I was raised in the Grand Eminence Palace in Colwen Grounds. And like the name suggests, the palace was very grand. It was a tall, looming building with a large estate surrounding it. But not all palaces are what most people would think. To me, the palace was more like a prison.

I understand that might be a weird analogy, so allow me to explain. My great-grandfather, Peerless Thropp, the current Eminent Thropp at the time, raised me. Well, he didn't exactly raise me. I was one of the only blood family he had left, so it made sense that after my mother died, I would go live with him. Actually, my nanny raised me. She was a kind, middle-aged woman who went only by 'Nanny', so I never knew her real name. I felt like I should have, even though I never intended to use it, but she was steadfast in keeping her real name her own little secret.

But getting back to the palace. There were more rooms than I could ever dream of exploring. I was intrigued and intimidated at the same. When I was younger, the rooms seemed like my personal playground. The only problem was that I had no friends to share it with.

I was three years old when I moved into the palace because my mother died from an illness. Even though I still had my father, I was taken away from him to face my future. Ever since then, my every move in public had been choreographed, from where I sat, how I walked, and even who I looked at and how I looked at them. I began attending public functions when I was five. Most people would think that's too early to expect a child to behave properly at big functions, but I was the exception. I was taught to sit still, to not speak unless spoken to, and which silverware to use at the appropriate times.

Looking back, I don't think I was seen as a child, but rather the future leader of a country. And by 'future leader', I mean 'next in line'.

As I said before, I was the Eminent Thropp's only living blood relative. His daughter, my grandmother, was dead, along with my mother, which meant that I was the only one left. I have a sister, though I didn't really know her. Well, technically, she was my half-sister.

When I was six, three years after I moved into the palace, my father remarried. I didn't go to the wedding. There was a banquet at the palace that evening. My father and his new wife had Nessarose a year later.

I had only met her twice, since we grew up in separate households, but the two times I did see her, she seemed fairly nice. From what I remember, she was a petite girl with chocolate eyes like mine, brown hair that just past her shoulders, freckles, and always seemed to wear a soft smile on her face. But her most defining feature was probably that she was confined to a wheelchair. I don't know the specifics of it, but she was born paralyzed from the waist down and her mother died giving birth to her. She was different, just like me.

I always knew how different I was. There was the green hue of my skin, the fact that I couldn't go to school with other children, and the fact that there was almost always an adult watching my every move. But there was one time, when I was ten years old, that I managed to sneak away into the library and found a large, leather-covered book on the table. I opened it to the bookmarked page and peered down at the highlighted name written in neat cursive on the family tree.

It was then that I found out that I, Elphaba Melena Thropp, was the Thropp Third Descending until my mother died. When she did, I became the Heir Apparent, the next in line for the Eminency of Munchkinland.

My earliest memories of the palace weren't all dark and gloomy. I remember the sound of my happy giggles filling the Grand Eminence Palace. I was dressed in only a white slip, laughing at the top of my lungs. My long, raven hair flew wildly behind me as Nanny ran after me, screaming at me to stop.

"Mistress Elphaba, please come here!" she shouted.

Whether I didn't hear her over my giggles or I was ignoring her is unclear to me now. It was probably the latter. I was six years old. I had no desire to sit still. I wanted to play.

Suddenly, I stopped giggling and running, and I remember the exact reason why. By the time Nanny caught up with me, she saw why, too.

My great-grandfather stood over me, his eyes glaring down at me. The look he gave me could have made milk spoil. I remember being completely terrified of him. He wasn't exactly the warmest, most loving person in my life.

"What is going on out here?" he had asked. Even though he was seventy-three years old, he was still in very good health and had a lot more energy than most men his age.

Nanny had stepped forward and gently pulled me back. "I apologize, Your Eminence," she said humbly with a curtsy.

My great-grandfather continued to look down at me, my eyes never leaving his face. "That is not an answer to my question."

I remained silent and slowly looked down at my bare feet. I knew I was going to get in trouble for this.

"Young lady, what have I told you about running around like some uncouth schoolchild?" he asked, his voice hardening as he spoke.

"Not to," I said softly.

"And do you or do you not have trouble remembering such simple instructions?"

"No."

"No what?"

I bit my lip. "No, sir."

"Put on your uniform and go to your lessons," he said as he turned to go back into his office.

"Will you read to me?" I asked right before he closed the door. I already knew the answer, but I still had to try.

"Not now."

That meant 'no'. "Later?"

"No. Get dressed and get to your lessons." He looked at Nanny. "And I expect to not be disturbed by such racket again."

"Yes, Your Eminence," Nanny nodded with another curtsy.

The door slammed shut and Nanny immediately grabbed my wrist and pulled me down the hall, ignoring my protests to be released. She smartly slapped my mouth when I got too loud, which only made me angrier with her.

I was dragged back into my room and she closed the door behind me. She got out my official Eminence uniform, which consisted of a white blouse, navy blazer with the Munchkinland insignia on it, a matching, long, pleated navy skirt and tie, stockings, and black shoes. Once I was dressed, Nanny sat me down and brushed my hair before braiding it in a tight braid. I hated having my hair in a braid. I used to admire the way my hair would cascade off my shoulders like a waterfall. But a braid would not allow for such admiration.

Once she finished, we went to the mini-classroom and I began my private lessons with my tutor.

The tutor despised me, and even though he tried to hide it, I knew better. True, I was very smart, especially for a six-year-old, but I was very defiant. I would question everything, no matter what I was told. It drove the tutor mad, and he would often find himself yelling at me, but I would only yell back, and would only stop at the threat of him getting my great-grandfather. I knew he wouldn't, because he would be in just as much trouble as me, but I didn't want to risk it.

After what would seem like an eternity, my lessons for the day would finish and I would immediately retreat back to my room and close the door behind me. I would take my hair out of the braid and run my fingers through my silky tresses.

I remember kneeling down next to my bed and opening a secret drawer only I knew about. When there are adults constantly around you, it is hard to keep secrets, but I managed to succeed with this. I pulled out a book of fairy tales and climb onto my bed and opened to where I had left off.

I wasn't allowed to read books that my great-grandfather considered 'frivolous', and fairy tale books were at the top of his list. I was very limited in my choices of literature, which consisted mostly history books and biographies. The only time I could read a novel would be if I snuck into the palace library and took one, and kept it a secret.

There was more than one reason why I liked this book. Sure, I loved reading about the beautiful princesses that grew up in faraway lands and had everything their hearts desired. They had loving families and were loved by everyone. Most people would think this was my life, but I actually had the exact opposite. I looked at the colorful pictures of the book. They immediately captivated my mind and helped me to travel out of my lonely world.

But more importantly, this book was one of the last things I had of my mother. According to my father, she would read this book to me every night before I went to sleep. I could barely remember my mother, and what I did remember was very fragmented and incomplete.

Footsteps caught my attention and I quickly jumped off the bed and put the book back in the secret drawer. I retreated to my window seat just as the door opened, revealing Nanny.

"Dinner is ready. Mistress Elphaba, what have you done to your hair?" Nanny gasped. She didn't wait for me to answer before she started rebraiding my hair. "Your great-grandfather won't like it if he sees you with your hair out."

In all honesty, I think she expected me to protest, and maybe even kick her, for rebraiding my hair, but I simply sat still, though not without a frown, and allowed her to do whatever she wanted.

"Mistress Elphaba?"

I looked up at her with a blank expression before hurrying past her and down to the dining room.

Dinner, as usual, was a very silent affair. My great-grandfather sat at one end of the long table, while I sat on the other end. Servants hurried in and out, clearing plates, bringing more food, and refilling glasses.

Most families used dinnertime to talk about their days, but that was not the case for me. My great-grandfather would only speak to me to scold me. His voice was always hard and cold, as if all the warmth and love had been sucked out of him. Maybe it was because he felt alone. But he wasn't alone. He had me. But I'm not quite sure he really wanted me.

I remember seeing him sitting stiffly in his chair, silently cutting his meat. He slowly lifted his gaze to me and realized that I wasn't eating. "Elphaba, eat."

"I don't like meat," I whispered.

His face hardened. "Elphaba, eat your food."

"I don't like meat," I repeated, a bit louder.

Great-grandfather slowly rose to his feet, his hands fisted against the table. The maids who were standing by slowly shrunk back in fear. I must admit that I was beginning to feel a bit scared myself, but I stood my ground. "Elphaba, I will not tell you again. Eat your food."

"I'm not hungry. I don't like meat."

In the blink of an eye, Great-grandfather was next to me and smacked me against the face. I almost fell out of my chair as the loud slap rung in the air. I placed my hand on my cheek, feeling blood rush to the spot where the palm of his hand met my face, but I didn't cry. Instead, I gave him a hard, defiant glare, which only made him angrier.

"Go to your room," he whispered, sending chills down my spine.

I didn't move.

"Now!" he boomed, already preparing to hit me again.

I blinked, my entire face hot, then stood up and hurried away, tears still refusing to fall from my eyes. I ran into my room, slamming the door behind me. I knew I would probably be reprimanded for this incident the next day, but at that moment, I didn't care. I went over to my bed and reached under my pillow. Another secret that I kept was that I had a little, green bottle under my pillow. It matched the exact shade of my skin. According to my father, it belonged to my mother. I didn't know what she used it for, and I doubted it held much significance to her, but it was hers, and that was good enough for me.

I simply held it against my chest, my fingers tightly wrapped around the cold glass. A single tear slid down my cheek, but I quickly wiped it away. I refused to cry. Great-grandfather said crying is what weak people do. And I was preparing to lead a country. I couldn't be weak. Therefore, I couldn't cry. But at that moment, I really wanted to.

When Nanny came to check up on me, I feigned being asleep. I didn't want to talk to her or anyone else. I wanted to be left alone. I heard her slowly enter the room and approach my bed. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, hoping to convince her that I was asleep. She placed her hand against my forehead, and I had to try really hard not to grimace and turn away. Nanny was gentle. She was probably trying to comfort me, but I didn't believe I needed to be comforted. I had lived my life so far with minimal displays of affection, so I wasn't going to start craving it now.

"Goodnight, mon ange," Nanny whispered as she pulled the blankets over my tiny body and cracked the window open before leaving, softly closing the door behind her.

So, thoughts? Comments? Do we like that this is told from Elphaba's POV?