Rebellions against the Wizard waged throughout Oz. Elphaba leads the insurrections. What she didn't expect was that an old friend was a commander of the other side of the fight. Beginning a dangerous affair, Elphaba and Glinda didn't know how long they can hold out for each other from both sides of the war. Definitely AU. Gelphie. Book and Musical references.
A/N: I guess college life increases productivity…
To be honest, I'm entirely excited to do this one since I already plotted it. Slightly dark themes.
Wicked belongs to Gregory Maguire, Stephen Schwartz, and, of course, L. Frank Baum.
Majority of the names here are from the book, so please, bear with me. I don't want to be so original with the names, since the right of bestowing Ozians their names belonged to Gregory Maguire.
Chapter One: The Wizard's Problems
It. Was. Boring.
Glinda sat on her chair next to Wizard in the cavernous, emerald throne room, listening to dull and seemingly interminable reports being recited monotonously by the herald. The reporting was going on for about half an hour now. She fought valiantly to keep herself from nodding off or yawning. She even regretted the fact that she picked one of her best dresses for a lifeless task of sitting on her bum.
Morrible sat on the Wizard's other side, listening raptly.
The Wizard himself had his palm across his eyes. He was slumped against the velvet cushions of his towering throne. Whether he was listening or not was none of Glinda's concern. She didn't even care if he made a fool out of himself by being totally clueless to the happenings of the world he was "governing".
"… and in Qhoyre, the governor's son, seven years of age, drowned. The governor had been collecting more taxes for his son's funeral, to be attended by the governors of—"
"Just tell me the reports concerning the insurrections, you bumbling twit! Now!" the Wizard snapped out of the blue, pounding a fist on the mahogany armrest of the throne, which emitted a resonating thud around the room.
Glinda inwardly sighed and leaned back on her seat. It hadn't been the first time she saw the outbursts of the Wizard.
"Pardon, sir," the herald said, bowing slightly. Apparently, he too had been used to his master's poor anger management issues, "The Brox Hall train station was bombed last night, and two of our soldiers fell in the attack. And earlier today, the troop assigned to Traem all fell in an ambush. No bodies were recovered, Your Ozness."
The Wizard set his palms on his armrests, his face contorted in a grimace. "Get out of my sight," he commanded, and the herald took his leave swiftly after a courteous bow in front of the throne.
"The hooligans are running amuck near the Gillikin Forest, it seems," Morrible commented, looking over to the dull gray sky outside the ceiling high windows.
"These bastards are at it for a week now," the Wizard growled angrily, "Every single day! Bombing here, attacking there—Who is responsible for all this?"
"I'd be happy to take care of them for you," Morrible said pompously, straightening in her seat, "Honestly, I can kill them all with a wave of my hand."
"And kill fellow Ozians in the process?" the Wizard droned, his eyes flashing dangerously, "That action alone will cause more problems!"
At that moment, the tall doors of the throne room opened with an almighty groan.
A man entered, wearing his dark emerald uniform. A gleaming sword with a golden scabbard hung from his pure silver belt. Insignias on his chest shone in the fiery light of the chandeliers high above him. He knelt reverently before the Wizard before standing in his full height.
Glinda shifted excitedly on her seat.
"Captain Tiggular," the Wizard said, attempting to look unfazed, "Any news of the whereabouts of the firebrands?"
"A scout confirmed a resistance brewing in Settica," Fiyero recited, "The local café seemed to host sporadic meetings at night. The manager was currently being interrogated in our headquarters there. Awards were being offered to those who will bring a rebel to the authorities."
"Good work, Captain," the Wizard said, sighing in relief, "I want you to go to Settica and rally your troops there. I will send you help tomorrow."
Fiyero bowed and turned to leave, much to Glinda's disappointment. Fiyero didn't even look at her.
"Glinda, my dear," the Wizard said, looking over at her as the doors swung close.
"Yes, Your Ozness?" Glinda replied, wanting nothing more than to return to her room and trade sleep for listening to the old coot.
"How about you go to Settica yourself?" the Wizard suggested, "I know you can't do much harm with your powers, but you can be all the intimidation needed to quell those barbarians."
Glinda was quiet for a moment. She vaguely wondered if the Wizard was insinuating that her powers were mainly for entertainment only. Interiorly, she was deeply affronted with the idea. He was downgrading her as a prop to scare the rebels.
"Begging your pardon, sir," she said, trying to sound interested with the offending preposition, "But wouldn't that be a little… dangerous? Should something go wrong, I don't know anything about combat."
"It's high time you learn to," Morrible said, standing up, "Might as well start practicing offensive and defensive spells."
"Yes, good idea, Madame Morrible," the Wizard asserted, "You can train Glinda tonight before her leave in the morning."
Glinda inwardly groaned. Refusing was not an option then. Dejectedly, having no choice, she agreed, mentally envisioning that she was hexing the old cow in practice.
"It worked!" Fiyero said happily as he took a seat.
It was nighttime in Settica. Heavy downpours troubled the town for hours, but it finally cleared by sunset.
The pub was brimming with life. A large group of odd assortment of people were clustered and cramped in a corner, buzzing noisily as the Captain of the Ozian Guard joined their midst.
The place was devoid of military personnel save Fiyero. As a captain, her gave specific instructions to his men not to enter the pub under the pretense of expelling anyone who would be caught off duty.
Sitting at the middle of the table was Elphaba, clad in her usual all-black attire. Her tall pointy hat rested on her head, immediately making her easily distinguishable from the massive crowd surrounding her. Sprawled out on the table before her were various yellowing parchment containing scribbled notes and drawings serving as makeshift maps and battle plans.
On her right sat Boq, who was excitedly listing down new members.
"What did they say?" Elphaba asked Fiyero, immediately quieting down the eager crowd.
"They want me to rally my troops," Fiyero said, scooting a little closer to her, "He'll be sending some sort of back-up tomorrow. I don't know exactly what it is. I wasn't informed regarding the matter much.
"Powerful firepower, perhaps?" suggested Boq, laying down the list in front of Elphaba.
"They haven't got anything that strong yet," Fiyero answered, and the rowdy crowd started suggesting their own ideas.
"Regardless," Elphaba announced loudly so that everyone could hear, "We'll take them in the woods. Their strategies won't work if they're not in formation. The trees will hinder them from forming ranks. We'll use that to our advantage."
The rest of the meeting was a blur of raised voices and heated debates. Eventually, with a plan drawn at hand, the throng dispersed.
In the shadows of the night, Elphaba, Boq, and Fiyero left through the back door.
"See you tomorrow, then?" Boq asked, attempting to close his sling bag, which was fully loaded with a thick stack of papers.
"Same time at sunrise," answered the green girl, walking over to the opposite direction with her broom in her hand, and a knapsack on her back.
The two men waved each other goodbye, and Boq walked brusquely to a dark alley.
"Go back to your headquarters, captain," Elphaba droned when she sensed the presence of her companion, "You wouldn't want to be sighted with the leader of a gang of loonies."
"I can always tell them I'm out and about doing my rounds," Fiyero said, running to her side since his cover was blown, "Let me walk you home."
Elphaba had been staying in the attic of a dilapidated bakery. The old woman minding the shop had willingly let her occupy the room since she never goes up there anymore due to her age and health problems.
"I can manage myself, thanks," Elphaba muttered, glancing over at his pristine uniform, as if accusing him of daring to go to their meeting wearing such clothing.
"No, no, I insist," Fiyero eagerly answered almost in an instant.
"I'm fine, Fiyero," Elphaba said, almost sounding like a groan. They stopped in the shadow of a crumbling apartment. They could hear the tinkering of the glasses and low voices of the people in the saloon just in the other side of the wall. "Look, you can't keep up appearances wearing the clothing of the enemy. It's too eye-catching."
"Oh…" Fiyero uttered, staring at her.
Elphaba diverted her gaze.
She found Fiyero's persistent nearness deeply annoying. It flattered her at first, but leading groups of rebels all over Oz veered her unreasonable feelings completely off course. She was entirely grateful of his help, but she didn't like the thought of romance getting into the picture.
"Good night, then, Elphaba," Fiyero decided to say, giving her a mandatory nod of the head, "I'll see you tomorrow… Yeah… I'll wear, um, I'll wear something different, I promise."
And then he practically ran off, leaving the green girl in the darkness.
Sighing, Elphaba continued her journey home alone.
No law holds you now, Elphaba recited in her mind the creed she made for herself, You make your own laws. You hold the future of Oz in your hands. If that meant forfeiting love, then so be it. So be it then.
A/N: Yes, well… started a little weak here. Sorry for that. Been up since five in the morning only to remember there were no classes T_T Damn…