AN: I'm just going to warn you all beforehand: this story will most likely be even darker than Always There is about to become. As in, it deals with attempted suicide at some point early on in the story. You've been warned.
Other than that... it might start out a bit vague and confusing, but things will become clearer as the story progresses. Those of you who have read my original story might recognise some themes and small things... I put everything I thought of, but dismissed, for my original story in here, so... :)
Chapter 1. Nights spent in the dark
Elphaba was lying in the large bed in the master bedroom, curled up on her side with her arms wrapped around her waist, cradling her swollen stomach. She was staring at the wall without really seeing anything.
"My queen?"
Slowly, she raised her gaze to rest upon the face of the general standing in front of her. He slowly removed his hat and bowed his head; and Elphaba knew what he was going to say before the words even left his mouth.
"I am very sorry, Milady," he said formally. "The king is dead."
Her gaze drifted back down and to the side, away from the general to be trained on the wall once more. There was a fly on the wall, she noted absently. A small, black spot with tiny paws and transparent wings. It was crawling up higher, trying to reach the ceiling. She wondered why it didn't just fly. Maybe it was too stupid to realise that it would reach the ceiling faster by flying than by crawling all the way up.
She wished that she could fly, too.
"My queen?" the general prodded when she didn't respond.
Her eyes flicked towards his face again for a moment before re-focusing on the fly on the wall.
"Milady, are you feeling quite alright?"
She would have rolled her eyes, but she was too exhausted and drained for that.
"You just told me that my husband is dead," she said flatly.
The general actually let out a nervous laugh. "Right. Of course. I am sorry, Milady. Of course you are not alright."
She sighed.
"Would you like some privacy?" the general asked, clearly uncomfortable because of her lack of response. It was obvious that he had no idea what to do with her. She didn't blame him. She didn't know what to do with herself, either.
She gave a small nod; and the general bowed, then turned around and left, closing the door behind him.
Her husband was dead.
It wasn't like she hadn't seen it coming. He had been sick for a long time already, even if he hadn't wanted to admit it – to his parents, to the doctor, to his wife… not even to himself. Slowly but surely, it had gotten worse. Lately he'd been deteriorating a little bit more every day. When he had been unable to get out of bed at the beginning of this week, she had known the end was drawing near.
She had spent every minute of her time with him, reading to him from her favourite books, or just talking to him. She told him the stories she was planning on telling their baby once it would be born. They discussed their future together – they talked about baby names, colours for the nursery, how many brothers and sisters they might want to give their first child and whether it would be a boy or a girl. He had really been hoping for a girl, she knew, though he had assured her that he would be the happiest man alive no matter what gender the baby would turn out to be.
It had been painful, to say the least. Discussing all those things while deep down, they both knew that he would most likely never see their baby at all. He wouldn't get to see the nursery or know the baby's gender. Their first child together would also be their last. He was dying, and they both knew it – even though neither of them admitted that out loud.
This morning she had been sitting with him when he had been gripped by a seizure. She had been all but chased out of the room, doctors, servants and maids streaming in to try and do everything they could to save their king. Elphaba had retreated to the bedroom, curling up in the foetal position and staring at the wall, talking softly to her baby every now and then to convince herself that she wasn't losing it, she wasn't going crazy, even though it felt like she was.
She hadn't moved ever since.
Not all that much had changed, she realised. She was still green. Still awkward, still a commotion, an aberration. Still ugly, still sarcastic – though not quite at the moment – and still too smart and outspoken for her own good. She was the same… yet she wasn't. Nothing had changed, yet everything had changed. It was a strange feeling.
Not that she was feeling much at all at the moment.
She felt numb. Empty. Nauseous, too. She couldn't even cry.
She was alone, she realised. She was a green girl without the man who loved her. A queen without her king. And soon she would be a mother without the father of her child.
She gently cradled her stomach. Seven months. She was seven months pregnant, and now her baby would never meet his or her father.
"I'll tell you stories," she whispered to her stomach. "I'll tell you stories about your father. He was a brave and good man."
The baby kicked from inside of her, and she closed her eyes for a moment.
"Elphaba?"
She looked up at him, still smiling because of the joke he had told her moments before.
He smiled and reached out to caress her cheek. "I love your laugh."
Her smile widened and she rested her head on his shoulder. He pressed his cheek to her hair and they watched the night sky together – a dark, pitch black curtain filled with dozens of bright, silvery white stars. The moon was beautiful, silver and almost full, shining down upon them like an eye watching over them.
Elphaba didn't believe in any kind of spiritual things; but in that moment, she could imagine her mother looking down upon her from that gorgeous starry sky, with a gentle smile on her face. Melena had been a beautiful woman, Elphaba knew. She had showed Fiyero a picture of her mother once and he had told her that Elphaba looked a lot like Melena.
She hadn't believed him, of course. Melena had been soft and gentle and beautiful, while Elphaba herself was pointy and green and… everything her mother had not been.
"Nessa looks like her," Elphaba had said softly. "Not me. Never me."
"Yes, you do," Fiyero had argued. "Don't you see it?" He pointed at the image. "You have her nose, and her lips… her hair…"
Elphaba had lowered her eyes. "I don't see it," she had said. "I only see the differences. Her features are soft and mine are sharp, her eyes are the colour of freshly turned earth and mine of mud, her skin is fair and creamy and mine is –"
"Elphaba," Fiyero had cut her off. He had slid his fingers under her chin and tilted her head back until she would look back into his eyes.
"You're beautiful," he had said in the most serious voice she had ever heard him use. "Don't ever doubt that. I love your features, Fae. I love your eyes – they might just be my favourite thing about you. I love their colour, I love the way they sparkle when you're passionate about something or when you get angry. I could get lost in your eyes."
She blushed and lowered her gaze, but he gently tugged at her chin again to make her look back up.
"And I love your skin," he had said softly, trailing the fingers of his other hand down her bare arm, making her shiver. "It's soft and smooth, and it's beautiful. It's the same colour as the Emerald City – how can you not love it? You're the colour of emeralds, Elphaba, and you're just as precious and beautiful."
She smiled at the memory, and the prince beside her propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at her. He reached out and softly traced her jaw line with his fingers.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked her softly.
"My mother," she replied truthfully. "And you."
He smiled, remembering their conversation. "Precious and beautiful like emeralds?"
She chuckled softly and he leant down and captured her lips with his.
Her eyes fluttered shut and she melted into the kiss, wrapping her thin, lanky body around his as he slowly lowered her onto the grass, kissing her deeply.
"I love you," he whispered.
She smiled and cupped his face with one hand, leaning up to kiss him again. "I love you, too, Yero my hero."
"Yero my hero…" she murmured. Her eyes opened and she was confused for a moment as to where she was, exactly. Where was the night sky with the stars and the near-full moon? Where was the grass, the canal and the forest? Where was Fiyero?
Then things came rushing back to her and she realised that she was in her bedroom in the castle – the bedroom she had, up until this morning, shared with her husband. The fly she had noticed before had made its way over to the ceiling by now.
The light had also changed. It had been bright before, given the fact that the window was facing south and it had been the middle of the day; but now it was weaker and coloured more orange and gold, indicating that it must be late afternoon or early evening by now.
Elphaba rubbed her eyes, stunned at the fact that she had actually fallen asleep on a day like this.
"Your fault," she said bleakly to her stomach. The baby kicked in response and she sighed. It was true – lately she could sleep at any given moment of the day. Being pregnant was more exhausting than she could ever have anticipated. She was still surprised that she had slept just now, however. What kind of woman could just fall asleep when her husband had just died?
She remembered the dream she'd had, and she cringed. Don't feel, she told herself sternly. It's better not to feel.
She couldn't believe her subconscious was torturing her in a moment like this with dreams about Fiyero calling her beautiful and telling her he loved her.
"Life is cruel, baby," she whispered, her voice only trembling a little bit. "I'm sorry I did this to you. Brought you to life, I mean. You're safe and happy now, but wait until you're born… with a bit of bad luck, you'll find out soon enough how horrible the world can be sometimes."
She felt the baby moving inside of her and she wrapped her arms around her waist, cradling her stomach and curling into herself. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to compose herself.
Then she shook her head, turned onto her side and fixed her gaze on the wall again.
"Elphaba, dear?" The older queen, her husband's mother, slowly sank down on the edge of the bed, placing her hand on Elphaba's shoulder. Elphaba turned her head to look at the older woman.
Right from the start, the old king and queen had been very accepting of her and her skin. They could see that their son loved this woman and that had been enough for them to welcome her with open arms.
They were both in their sixties and they had stepped down from the throne a few years prior. Their eldest son had taken over as king and, needing a queen, had married Elphaba. It had been an arranged marriage; even before the new king had been crowned, his parents had arranged things with Frexspar Thropp. The engagement had been announced the moment Elphaba had finished her final week of exams at Shiz. Her graduation ceremony had been a few weeks later and immediately afterwards, she had been whisked away by her father, her soon-to-be husband and her soon-to-be parents-in-law. The wedding ceremony had taken place and Elphaba had moved out of her old home back in Munchkinland and into her new one: a castle.
She hated the fact that her father had made this big a decision for her; but she knew that despite the fact that her marriage had been arranged, her husband had loved her. A lot. Skin and all. There hadn't been many people in her life who had done that.
Now, she looked at her mother-in-law. There were more wrinkles in her pale face than Elphaba remembered – she looked tired and her eyes were red and puffy from crying. She had just lost her son…
"How are you feeling?" the old queen asked gently.
Elphaba's shoulders rose and fell in a half-hearted shrug.
The queen smiled sympathetically and stroked Elphaba's hair. "He loved you, dear."
Elphaba nodded stiffly. "I know."
The queen sighed. "Look, dear… I don't want to do this right now," she began. "But you know about… certain traditions."
Elphaba looked at her with a dull expression in her dark brown eyes.
The queen continued to stroke the younger girl's hair as she spoke. "In our province, women can't rule by themselves," she said gently. "My second-born son is going to be the new king. The coronation ceremony will be in a few days."
Elphaba didn't say anything.
"It's complicated," the older woman said. "You are carrying the rightful heir to the throne. If this baby is a boy, he will be king one day, once he is old enough to rule."
"And if it's a girl?" asked Elphaba timidly.
The queen smiled at her. "Then we will lovingly welcome her into our family," she said. "You're welcome to stay here with us, dear; but your father has already written to us once he heard about our son's illness. We told him that it would most likely be fatal and he wrote back to us that he wishes to see you married to someone else if that was the case."
That got Elphaba's attention. "What?"
"Governor Thropp doesn't want you to be alone," the queen explained. "He says you need someone to take care of you."
To keep me under control and make sure I don't do anything stupid, Elphaba translated in her head.
"He has already made arrangements for you, I believe," the queen continued.
Elphaba was stunned. Her husband hadn't been gone for a day and her father had already promised her hand in marriage to someone else?!
"He has assured me that your new husband will treat your child like a son or daughter of his own," the queen assured her. "I know this young man Frexspar spoke of – he is kind and honourable. He has agreed to marry you and take care of you and the child. If the child is a boy, he will return here once he is old enough to claim the throne and become the king he is destined to be. If the child is a girl, she can continue to live with you and your new husband in his country, and the oldest son of my second-born will be the king when his father becomes too old to rule."
Elphaba felt dizzy and nauseous, and it wasn't just because of her pregnancy.
"He's marrying me off to someone I don't even know," she choked out, "within a day of my husband dying?"
Her mother-in-law stroked her arm comfortingly. "I'm sorry, Elphaba," she said. "But you know as well as I do that it is not proper for a soon-to-be mother to be alone. You need a man to help you raise your child. I would have loved to keep you and my grandchild here with me, but I understand your father's reasoning."
Elphaba turned away, hiding from the queen the fact that her eyes were filled with tears.
"You will be alright, dear," the queen continued. "You're a strong woman. You can do this. You'll be alright."
Elphaba shook her head, heaving a shuddering sigh.
"When?" she asked quietly.
"We shall write to your father as soon as possible," the queen answered. "He will most likely come here to pick you up as soon as he receives the letter – the end of this week at the latest, but not until after the funeral, of course."
Elphaba nodded, tears still in her eyes.
"I'm sorry," she choked out. "About… about your son."
The older woman smiled sadly. "Thank you, Elphaba. I'm sorry, too." She rose to her feet and kissed the green girl's forehead. "But life goes on, unfortunately, and we have to keep going as well."
With that, she left the room, leaving Elphaba to ponder on her words.
So... thoughts? Favourite lines? Love it? Hate it? Want to call the Frex Hunters on me for even thinking about posting this? Let me know :3.