This story is a Wicked musicalverse (with some hints of bookverse) / L. Frank Baum's Oz books crossover.
Full Summary: When Glinda the Good had vowed to the citizens of Oz to do everything she could to make them happy once more, the only tool she had to aid her was the Grimmerie. But nobody could have ever guessed the full extent of its power. Because when she did finally cast a spell, it changed everything. Reality itself was warped, changed. And everything that had once been was lost.
The magic has sustained itself for countless years. But such things can never be without fault. Eventually something from the past would slip through. Some part of the darkness that had once threatened ruin to all would manifest itself.
And once that happens, there is only one that has any hope of stopping it before everything is destroyed. The problem is...that person is long dead.
Or is she?
It was raining this afternoon. Normally, this wasn't anything strange. After all, there were plants here too, yellowed and scraggy that they were, and they needed water too. But today, there was something different. Before the clouds had rolled in, it had been a warm summer day. But as soon as the first drops struck the soil, the temperature had dropped. Now it was thoroughly uncomfortable to be outside. And weather that made one uncomfortable was very, very unusual in Oz.
Merg understood. Because Merg was the only creature in Oz that knew the truth.
She sat now upon a flat black stone, made even blacker by the falling rain. Her dull grey fur was plastered down against her bony body. Her left ear was perked towards the faded horizon. The tattered right was flopped limply against her skull, framing the pale white orb of her sightless right eye. Her muzzle was flecked heavily with white, signifying her many years. She had seen it all in her long life. Had lived through it all.
And if that did not make her the most miserable beast in the land, then she wanted to meet the creature that did hold that title. She would take him or her in her jaws and show them what it really meant to suffer.
Merg was unique. But not because she was ugly, old, or miserable, though she was certainly all of those things and more. She was unique because she knew. She knew what Oz was supposed to be, what it had been, and the lie it was now. Everyone was happy these days. Content. Nobody had any major problems. Everybody got along, and those that got into a tiff had only to turn to their neighbors to get help to solve their problems.
Lies. All lies.
Merg didn't really know how it had happened. She had been in no condition to concentrate the moment it had. But she still had her memories of the before time. And her observations now. So yeah, the happy, cheerful Oz was nice. But it wasn't real.
She had been born the runt of the litter. The only reason her mother had let her suckle because it had been a litter of two. Small though she had been, she had strengthened under the plentiful supply. Her parents had been members of a large pack, a pack that served a powerful witch. They were happy to do her bidding, because she was merciful to them. Took care of them. Respected them when nobody else in Oz bothered.
The day the pack had been sent out to investigate intruders, Merg had been left alone. She was still too small to run with the pack. And they had never returned. She had been left alone in the den, cold and confused. Abandoned.
Merg had been too young and stupid back then. She would have starved to death for want to wait for her mother to return. But a pair of prairie gophers had found her huddled in the den, and had taken pity on her. They had fed her, taken her away, and raised her. She had grown up fairly healthy thanks to them. They were refugees from the old order, animals who could speak. But they were content enough. They lived with Merg in the den for a few quiet years. And then the thieves had come, to loot and raid her dead mistress's home. The thieves took her gopher parents and butchered them. So Merg had returned the favor, killing and devouring all but one of them. The last put up a fight, tattered her ear, blinded her eye, and slit her throat. Merg had fallen to the grass, feeling her blood flow out of her. She had been ready to die then. Just as any normal stupid animal would do. When she was hungry, she ate. When she was tired, she slept. And when she was dying, she did.
But she hadn't died. At the very second the last drop of her life's blood had left her, Oz changed. A great force, some immense magic, seized hold of the land and all its inhabitants. And everything was transformed. Memories were warped and erased, the environment was shifted, magic infused into every leaf and grain of sand. Everything that had defined the old Oz was destroyed. And along with it went pain, suffering, and reality. Those souls already passing were allowed to die. Everyone else was healed and restored.
Merg had been caught in the middle. So close to death, and yet hanging on to life by threads just a fraction too strong for the magic to break. So the magic had taken her too. Drew her into the new Oz. But it could not touch her insides. Could not erase her memory. Merg had awoken torn between both.
What followed after that was years and years she could never recall properly. She knew, with each step she had taken, that everything she was seeing was wrong. The people were far too happy, and nobody remembered what it was like before. Worse, everyone got along. Even the animals were happy. And everyone could speak. Even Merg found that she could speak without difficulty. But in all her time since that day, she had only ever spoken one word. And that was on the day she had fully realized that had she tried to find help to fix the madness in her head, she would be lost too. Just a figment in this reality that didn't truly exist.
"Lies," she had whispered.
So she had come here. To the remains of the once mighty castle of her mistress. And this was where she had stayed. The castle had crumbled to ruins around her, leaving only these piles of black stone and one tiny hovel that passed as protection from the weather. She stayed here, standing guard over what little she had left. And nobody ever bothered her. Nobody ever came close to this place. On clear nights, she could just make out the glitter of a town far on the horizon, but that was all the contact Merg ever made with the outside. The mountains were always dark and quiet.
Nothing ever changed here. Which was why Merg noticed the rain today. As she sat upon her stone, she turned her remaining eye to the heavens, her expression betraying emotion for the first time in years. There was something odd about this. The very air seemed to be humming.
That was the biggest part of the lie she had realized. The fact that the magic would never be able to maintain this visage of peace forever. Something was going to fall through the cracks, like she had done. Or something was going to break free. Something about the past was going to reappear. And then all hell would break loose.
A soft rumble of thunder echoed through the building clouds. The rain fell a little harder. Merg flinched, finally rising to her feet. From where she stood, the ruins of the castle were laid out before her. It looked the same as it always did, except that it was a little wetter.
Or…did it? Tucked between two massive black boulders, suddenly vibrant against the gray-yellow ground…something green.
So that was the reason for the storm, which was already starting to fade away as if it had never happened. The magic had lost its grip for one second. Or maybe it had been momentarily shaken by the effort needed to keep the lie untarnished. Whatever the reason, it had fixed itself now. Everything was quiet and calm once more.
Merg leapt down off of the stone and trotted through the split in the rubble into the small round space that was her home. She grabbed one corner of a moth-eaten blanket in her yellowed teeth and pulled it out. Slowly, she dragged down to where the patch of green lay, naked and trembling, upon the cold wet ground. She dragged it until the fabric covered the form as best she could make it. Then, she curled her body next to the green thing, and gently licked its shoulder.
"Mistress," she said softly.
Slowly, the shaking green woman opened her eyes. For a moment, she seemed to stare up at the clearing sky. Then, she glanced at Merg.
"A Wolf?" she asked.
"Yes," Merg replied. Only she could have understood the meaning of her mistress' question. "I am a Wolf."
Of course, every animal in Oz was an Animal now. That was how the lie had made it. But her mistress was too weak to know that yet. But for the first time, Merg was grateful to the magic. It had given back Elphaba.
Why? Merg was just a wolf. She didn't know why. Nor was she smart enough to care. All she could do was follow her instinct, the one passed to her by her parents.
Protect and serve our mistress, defender of Animals.
And so she would.
Deep in the forests of the Munchkin country, there was a small town. Its people called it simply Happy, for lack of anything else. The people of Happy were not the most creative lot. But they were content. So content, in fact, that the people had agreed to make it a town law that no person would ever be anything else but happy and content in the town of Happy. Anyone that did feel anything but happy had to leave the town until they did feel happy again. For this purpose, the people had made an unhappy spot in the forest just beyond the town limits. Here, the not-happy could come and sit and think. And when they were done, they could go back to being happy in Happy. So were the ways of Oz.
Today, however, it was raining. Hard. And this made the not-happy person sitting in the unhappy spot even more unhappy. Not just unhappy. Angry. Very, very angry.
Furious, even.
The girl was just a teenager. And she had no real reason to feel the way she did. Nobody had teased her that day, or taken anything from her, or scolded her. Nobody ever did anything like that in the town of Happy. Nevertheless, she was fuming. Her fellow townspeople had sent her out here at the first glance of her scowl. She might have begun to feel better, but then it had started raining.
She pounded her fist against the ground, then gave a yelp of pain as her fist throbbed. Then she growled. She hated it out here. She was cold and wet and even more unhappy than ever.
"This is stupid!" she screamed. "Everything is stupid! Why do I have to come out here just because I am not happy?!"
She had never questioned it before. But now, for some reason, she questioned it now. Everything she knew seemed stupid and pointless. Unnatural. A lie.
Pain suddenly lanced through her chest, a throb far worse than the soreness in her hand. She gasped, clutching at herself. Was this why everyone was happy? Because not being happy caused pain?
"I'm happy!" she gasped. "I'm all better now. I'm happy! I'm…aaaugh!!"
The pain blossomed outward, filling every inch of her body with searing agony. She screamed as she fell to the ground. The pain wasn't stopping. In fact, it was growing worse by the second.
"I feel better!" she screamed. "Help me! Help me, please!!"
In the town of Happy, the rain was falling almost deafeningly on the roofs. Nobody could hear the girl's terrible screams. Not even when the screams cut off abruptly, and transformed. First there was a choking gurgle, and then a low inhuman moan. And then a clear ripping howl, booming out like thunder over the trees.
And miles away, in the sparkling, gorgeous Emerald City, the ruler awoke from a light midafternoon nap with a jolt and a gasp of fright. She sat bolt upright, her eyes scanning the richly furnished room around her, resting upon the bright sunbeams that danced through her windows. Everything was quiet and peaceful. Still, for the first time, the girl ruler's heart thudded nervously.
Because for the first time, the Princess Ozma had awoken from a terrible nightmare.