Disclaimer: I don't own anything. All credits for WICKED go to Gregory Maguire, Stephen Schwartz. I own the plot, the idea, nothing else.
Thanks to BelieveTheWarIsOver for betareading.
A what-if-story. What if Elphaba got pregnant the night in the forest? What if she found out after his "death" that she was pregnant?
It started as a one-shot, but then I tried to imagine writing more – writing more chapters, a whole story – and now I have a fanfic with a couple of chapters you can read and enjoy.
CHILD OF THE WICKED
Chapter 1
The first thing someone usually noticed about Elphaba Thropp was her eyes. From a distance, they appeared to be brown, but if one could stand her fierce, determined gaze long enough to get a good look at them, one would see that they were actually a very dark blue. The color was unique, but even more distinctive than that was the way they seemed to burn a hole in one's skin if one was out of her favor and unlucky enough to be in her line of sight at the same time.
Today they were filled with unshed tears - tears of joy and sorrow.
She was pregnant.
With Fiyero's child.
One he would never see grow up.
She had suspected it when she hadn't felt well the last week, but she had shoved the thought of a possible pregnancy to the back of her mind. She couldn't allow it to happen in her current situation. She was an outcast. The enemy of OZ. She couldn't be pregnant. Not now, not ever.
Elphaba wasn't made to be a mother. She grew up without a mother's love. She had never learned to love and be loved. Never.
At least, not until Fiyero came into her life. Fiyero had shown her that he loved her for one night. All they had was one night. They had created a child that night, a product of their love for eachother.
But was this love enough? The love he gave her, was it enough to raise a child? Did it make her fit to be a mother? Would she be able to raise a child or would she fail? Would she fail to keep her baby safe like she had failed to do so for the baby's father?
Full of doubts Elphaba walked over to the window in the tower of Kiamo Ko, the place she now called home. It was Fiyero's home.
What should she do? How could and should she handle the pregnancy? Yes, there was a way to handle unwanted pregnancies. She knew how and what to do. She knew that she could-no, she wouldn't finish that thought. She couldn't do it. Even when she wasn't sure she was able to love and support a child, she knew that she could never terminate her pregnancy. She couldn't rob the baby of a chance to live.
And besides, the baby was the only thing she had left of Fiyero.
Oh Fiyero. She missed him. More then words could ever describe. How she wished for him to be here right now, with her. She could imagine what he would do: he would be smiling. He would be happy. Fiyero would take away her sorrows. He would make a wonderful father for his child.
But he was dead; killed by her own spell, her own good deed.
He wouldn't be able to hear the baby's first word, see the first steps or the first day at Shiz. She had robbed him of his chance to be a father, of his chance to live. It was all because of who she was: the wicked witch, the enemy.
Fiyero would never be part of the life he created with her.
Tears started to run down her face. She cried for a baby who would never knew his or her father.
Elphaba placed her hand on her still-flat stomach in which grew her child.
Her child.
Fiyero's child.
The child of the wicked.