AN: Hi there readers! This is my first Wicked FanFiction story, so thank you for giving it a chance. I have seen the musical, but it was a while ago, so I'm going to be mostly relying on other people's stories to remember what happened in the play. This story is not going to follow the storyline of the play exactly, as I'm sure you can already tell from the summary, but it's not going to be completely different either. It's basically Wicked mixed with a story idea that I came up with. Draco and Leo are my characters from my own original story, along with pretty much anyone who is not in the book or musical, but I don't own anything from Wicked.
I know the summary isn't the best, but I had to make it fit. If anyone has a better suggestion about how to phrase it, please let me know in a review! By the way, reviews are appreciated a lot, whether they're simply your opinion about the story, a suggestion about how to improve, or even just a "hi". I like to see that people who read my stories care enough about them to log in and come back to review. :)
I also want to say that the first chapter of "Not All Angels Have Wings" is very much like the first chapter I wrote for the original idea (Not All Angels Have Wings - Wicked = Original Idea) so the whole thing with the Animals and animals is kind of mixed up. The best explanation I can come up with for this is that the first part of chapter one takes place in the future, when no one sees a difference between Animals and animals. So I'll call all of them animals for now, even the ones that speak.
That's all I have to say for now. Once again, thanks for reading and enjoy the story! :)
Chapter One: Wingless Creatures
The supposedly haunted castle of Kiamo Ko was generally a very quiet place, and today was no exception. The stone castle built into the cliff's face was as dark and silent as ever; no lights were on inside, and no one was ever seen entering or exiting the now unwelcoming building. The common people of the Vinkus often wondered—and had been wondering for many years—where the royal family had gone. The young king and his green girlfriend had been the talk of the kingdom for the months following Fiyero's return from Shiz University, but now they were long gone, and the people had nothing left to talk about besides the haunted castle they had left behind. Yet no one had the courage to venture inside, afraid of the evil spirits they might find lingering there.
If someone had gone inside, however, he or she would have discovered that the castle was far from abandoned. Lurking in the shadows was a monster, which had been living in the castle its entire life. The beast had never seen the sunlight, the change of seasons, or even the rocky cliffs that surrounded its home. It was content to remain inside the seemingly empty castle, but if the hypothetical brave visitor had managed to get past its watchful gaze, he or she would have seen that not even the beast of Kiamo Ko was alone. It had three mysterious companions, none of which ever came as close to leaving the castle's walls as the beast itself. Instead they, as the visitor would have found, seemed to reside only in the castle's deepest rooms, spending their time discovering its most deeply buried secrets, which no visitor, however brave, would have been able to uncover.
The inhabitants of Kiamo Ko organized themselves in a hierarchy that was simple enough; the first of the arrivals was the leader, a witch who was feared for her wicked nature, and following her in rank were her faithful pets: the raven, the cat, and the monster.
The monster of Kiamo Ko had the least authority according to their system, which the cat, in its arrogance, would never let him forget. He longed to chase it through the castle's halls, but he knew he would be punished harshly; it was too high of a price for such as short-lived moment of satisfaction. So the monster had to put up with the cat until his mistress's back was turned; only then could he aim a swipe at it or curl his lip back in a snarl without fear of punishment. That was one of the reasons the cat never strayed far from the heart of Kiamo Ko; it was too wary of the monster to leave their mistress's side for long.
The cat was the most mysterious of the three pets; the monster, despite his fantasies of putting it in what he considered to be its rightful place, had to be wary of it. It was able to wield shadow magic more effectively than even the witch herself, and was therefore chosen to be her representative for various missions. And such was another reason that the monster of Kiamo Ko despised it so thoroughly—his jealousy of its importance in the witch's eyes. He could only dream of being respected so much.
The third of the witch's pets was the raven. As the highest in ranking of the three, the dark-feathered bird had the authority to admonish both its juniors; yes, even the ever-infuriating cat, who would never dream of breaking so many rules as to catch it for dinner. Naturally, it was because of this power that the monster admired the raven with such great respect.
The last of the four inhabitants was the witch herself, who didn't resemble the image that would come to mind when the word "witch" was spoken. She was rather pretty, with a pale face and dark hair and eyes, but she also had a look in those eyes that told a story of years of pain and suffering. The witch, for some reason unknown to the beast, had enchanted herself to give her wings, but they were not as magnificent as one might imagine. The leathery, gnarled, and bat-like wings dismissed anything that remained of the witch's beauty. Perhaps this was why she never left Kiamo Ko, but the monster suspected otherwise.
Today he wandered through the cold, stone halls, his black pelt fluffed out in a vain attempt to warm himself. The icy winds that had swept the castle the previous night had frozen the water from a recent rainfall, giving Kiamo Ko the appearance of a battle between stone and ice. The superstitious people of the Vinkus declared that evil spirits lurked in the castle, causing the water and stone of earth magic to turn on each other, but the monster of Kiamo Ko was merely annoyed by the now slippery floor. The beast growled as he slipped on a sheet of ice, barely regaining his footing before he hit the floor.
He grunted in frustration as he struggled to his paws, letting out a puff of warm breath that fogged the frozen puddle beneath his feet. It wasn't much of a warning, he reflected irritably, now that he had already slipped. With a loud huff of annoyance, the monster stepped carefully over the patch of ice, reminding himself to tell the witch about the leak in the roof.
The monster turned to gaze back into the sheet of ice as the foggy surface became clear again. He glanced briefly at his own reflection—the pale yellow eyes and thick black feathers—and snorted in disgust. The monster of Kiamo Ko had never liked his own appearance very much; what was the point of having feathers if you didn't have wings, if you could never fly?
The monster growled low in his throat as he became aware of something or someone watching him. He looked up slowly to see the cat staring evenly back at him from across the frozen puddle, its whiskers twitching as if it was amused by his hatred of his own appearance.
"What do you want?" he snarled fiercely. The cat didn't understand him—he couldn't speak its language—but it felt the same mutual dislike. It hissed back, lashing its tail, before unsheathing its claws and scratching a message of complex symbols onto the ice between them. The monster snorted skeptically at the cat's insincere peace offering, but nonetheless bent to examine its message, despite the feathers on the back of his neck bristling with distrust.
The witch summons you, the cat's message read simply. She awaits your presence at the castle's heart. The monster of Kiamo Ko looked up at his enemy with narrowed yellow eyes, but it offered no further explanation. The infuriating creature lashed its tail once, a glitter of satisfaction in its eyes, before vanishing in a cloud of darkly-colored smoke. It must have teleported using its skillful shadow magic, probably to the depths of the castle.
Rolling his eyes at the cat's flair for dramatics, the monster made his way through Kiamo Ko's twisting, maze-like corridors to the inner rooms of the castle. He himself was not talented in the ways of any kind of magic, and for that reason the cat seemed to be unable or unwilling to resist showing off. Until the monster could persuade the raven to tutor him in magic so he could catch up to the cat's level of ability, however, he would have to settle for dreaming of payback that was unlikely to be fulfilled.
The monster soon arrived at what the inhabitants of the castle called the heart room of Kiamo Ko, his heartbeat quickening in excitement. He didn't come to the innermost room of the castle very often, but when he did, it always took his breath away. The heart room was essentially the treasury of Kiamo Ko, with gold and jewels piled up in the center, but its most amazing feature was the huge glass dome ceiling, which allowed light to flow in and illuminate the treasure. At night, there was no daylight to shine down onto the treasure, but the pitch-black sky sparkled with stars overhead, dazzling its audience.
Tonight, the night's audience was the residents of Kiamo Ko, who gathered together beneath the Sky Dome, gazing up at the starry sky. The witch hovered in front of the treasure pile, her wings flapping slowly and her feet seeming to stand tentatively on the air. The cat twined itself around its mistress's heels like the kiss-up the monster knew it was, and the raven was perched atop the treasure pile. As the monster entered the heart room of Kiamo Ko, his companions turned to greet him with a faint smile, a ferocious hiss, and a gentle caw respectively.
"Come join us," the witch invited warmly, kneeling in the air to touch her monster's forehead as he padded to stand beside her. He felt contentment flood through him, and his eyes fluttered halfway shut as his feathery tail began to wag. The witch stood up, faltering for only a moment before regaining her composure, and glanced back to address all her pets.
"We gather here today to watch the star lights," she told them in an almost hypnotic voice, extending her hand gracefully to gesture to the sky, "the gift from the Unnamed God which brings the earth and the sky together." As she spoke, an explosion of bright colors washed over the night, flooding the black with beautiful shades of pink, purple, blue, and green. They danced in harmony like colorful ribbons, blending and twisting as they painted the black canvas of the sky. The star lights dimmed and brightened as they blossomed among the stars. The four gathered to watch had their breath snatched away—the cat didn't even bother to send a hiss in the monster's direction. The monster himself wished that he could live in this moment of serenity forever, and gaze at the star lights every night.
Alongside the lights, an almost overwhelmingly beautiful sound weaved its way into the night. It resonated through the crisp winter air like a flute, calling and answering from what seemed to be every direction. The monster pricked his ears, and suddenly the magic of the moment was shattered by a feeling of dread that turned his blood to ice. The sound was familiar to him, calling him back to something he had long forgotten. It was by far the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, but was also hauntingly, hauntingly familiar.
"What is that sound?" the monster growled, feeling his hackles rise.
The raven shifted uneasily on his perch, although whether his reluctance to speak came from his question or the song itself, the monster couldn't tell. "It is a howl," he said at last, "a song sung by wolves." He looked away to gaze at the sky once more, as if he didn't want to linger on the subject any longer.
But the monster's feathered pelt was already prickling with a curiosity that would not be tamed. "Wolves?" he echoed in an intrigued tone, tilting his head to one side in interest. "Like me?" For indeed, he was a wolf, although why he was born with feathers instead of fur remained a mystery.
Again the crow hesitated. "No. Not like you."
The witch spared him a single warning glance, and the crow fell silent. But the wolf-monster wanted answers; he needed them more desperately than he had ever needed anything in his life. He opened his mouth to pursue the question further, but the witch seemed unwilling to discuss it. She waved her hand dismissively, and the raven soared out of the room, seeming glad to be free of the situation. The cat spat disdainfully at the wolf-monster and he shrunk away as the witch did not bother to admonish it, as she normally would. It was then that he knew he had done something very wrong in asking questions about his origins. It was as if he had broken some unspoken law, one that he had previously known nothing about. But he didn't understand. What made him so different?
Many years before the events unfolding in Kiamo Ko, Munchkinland faced a time of many rainstorms. Sunlight very rarely touched its rolling hills, and the citizens were lucky to see a glimpse of blue in the sky once every few weeks. But there was always a feeling of contentment there, despite any strange occurrences the Munchkins might encounter, so there was little to no reaction from the people when the governor's wife had given birth to a green child. Three years after her birth, the little girl was treated as ordinarily as any of the other children who lived in the area. She was quite mature for her age, although that could be attributed to the fact that the other children made fun of her and would not allow her to play with them; instead she spent her days with adults, mostly her mother and her friends, who adored her for her sweet smile, obedience, and intelligence. The green girl was happy enough to ignore the other children and their jeers.
One morning, the young girl, whose name was Elphaba Thropp, awoke to the familiar sound of raindrops pattering on the roof of the governor's mansion. She sighed rather dramatically without bothering to open her eyes as she flopped down onto her back in disappointment. If the sun had been shining outside, she might have been allowed to play in the garden, but instead it seemed that today was destined to be as cloudy as ever.
Elphaba wallowed in a puddle of self-pity for a moment, as children often do, before her eyes flew open and she gasped in amazement as an even better idea than going outside came to her. She leapt out of bed and raced off down the hall to her parents' room without bothering to change out of her nightgown.
"Wake up, Mama!" she called into their bedroom through the keyhole. She waited patiently outside the door for a reaction, but when none came within a few seconds, she knocked instead, undaunted. She was rewarded for her patience as the door opened, revealing a sleepy-looking Melena Thropp.
"What is it, sweetheart?" she yawned, rubbing her eyes as she stepped out of the bedroom and closed the door carefully behind her. She was very beautiful, even with her hair messed up from sleeping, and her round belly showed signs of another child on the way. "Is something wrong?"
"It's raining again," Elphaba began sadly.
Melena yawned again. "It's always raining, dear."
"So I can't go outside to play in the gardens," the little green girl continued unhappily, looking up at her mother pitifully. She paused for dramatic effect, and Melena frowned at her suspiciously. "If you're trying to persuade me to let you go out anyway, it won't work," she warned.
Elphaba shook her head. "Can you tell me a story instead?" She beamed at her mother hopefully, a pang of triumph filling her when her mother gazed down at her with fondness sparkling in her warm brown eyes. She bent down to lift her daughter into her arms, and Elphaba knew that Melena had been won over.
Melena carried her daughter into the living room and sat down on the sofa with the little girl on her lap. Elphaba poked her belly, giggling when she felt her younger sibling kick back. Melena smiled at her daughter's antics, but her face was pale and tired, and her smile strained. The milk flowers Frex had instructed her to chew every night had taken their toll. She didn't remember being this tired when she was pregnant with Elphaba. But back then, Melena reflected fondly, I didn't have Elphaba waking me up at seven in the morning to tell her stories.
"Which story would you like to hear?" she asked patiently.
Elphaba beamed happily. "The story about the angel and the demon," she replied excitedly, bouncing up and down on her mother's lap.
Melena smiled at her enthusiasm and waited for her to calm down before she started to tell the story. "Once upon a time," she began mysteriously, "there were four different types of magic: earth magic, air magic, light magic, and shadow magic." She paused to smile at Elphaba's fascination with the story, despite having heard it told many times before. "Earth magic and air magic," she went on, "were the two types of physical magic. Creatures that had power over those types of magic could control everything we see around us in nature—stones, water, the weather, and sometimes even other living things!"
"However, the two other types of magic—spiritual magic—were much more powerful and mysterious. Light magic is 'good' magic, and shadow magic is 'evil' magic. Spiritual magic shapes our destiny, according to legend; having light magic makes us good people, while having shadow magic makes us bad."
Elphaba gazed up at her mother with wide chocolate brown eyes very much like her own. "What about the part with Virgo and Scorpius?" she urged.
"Have patience, Elphaba," Melena replied. "I'm getting there."
"Different creatures had different combinations of magic," she continued. "Angels, the most powerful of all creatures, had power over all four types of magic." Elphaba opened her mouth, no doubt to question the reason for this, but Melena interrupted her. "This was so they could defend the person they were sent to no matter what. You see, angels were guardians—sent by those who have died to the people they love who are still living—and had to protect their charges even if it meant using evil magic. Angels did have all kinds of magic, and had their dark moments using them, but what angels are really remembered for are their pure hearts and their wings. My sweet, if you think you see an angel, remember that all angels have wings. That is how you tell the difference between a real angel and something that only pretends to be one." Elphaba nodded, wonder sparkling in her eyes.
"Humans," Melena went on, "had three types of magic. They could control both physical elements and one of the spiritual ones. Whether we are destined to be good or evil is decided by whether we have light magic or shadow magic. But as humans, we are limited, meaning that we could only have either one or the other. It is unknown when our fate is decided, but I believe that it is our choices that make us who we are, and therefore we must determine what type of spiritual magic we posses through our own actions."
Elphaba looked mystified. "But if we can make our own choices, why does anyone choose to have shadow magic?" she asked.
"Those who choose shadow magic don't realize that what they are doing is wrong," Melena explained. "They feel like they are only doing what their instincts tell them, what they feel to be the right thing, and that is exactly what makes their spirits dark. They mistake evil for goodness; the line between them can be very fine sometimes." Her tone was wistful, as if she had become wise from her own experiences. Elphaba could not imagine Melena doing anything wrong; perhaps it was a friend of hers who had taught her this.
"Demons," Melena continued, "were born evil, and have no choices. They can be recognized by their powerful shadow magic; although they have one other type of magic as well, they prefer using their darkness over whatever other talent they may possess. Stay away from demons, little one. They bring you nothing but darkness in your own soul."
"Animals," she went on, "had one kind of magic. The only type they could not have power over was shadow magic—their souls were more pure than those of the humans, and therefore were not swayed by the temptations of demons."
She paused, allowing Elphaba to ask any questions she might have had, but for once the little girl was silent, allowing Melena to continue without harassment or cheeky questions. "Now begins the real story," she told Elphaba. "There were once two creatures who were brothers, known as Virgo and Scorpius. The details about what they actually were is something we have lost long ago to time, but all that matters is that they were the same in appearance—save for the wings that marked Virgo as an angel, and the darkly-colored fur that reflected Scorpius's evil, jealous spirit."
"One day," Melena continued, "a demon, sensing Scorpius's struggle with his feelings and morals, came to him and told him that if he killed his brother, he would be able to take his wings from him. Scorpius knew that killing Virgo was the wrong thing to do, so he held back his temptation. Every night, when he saw his brother sleeping, his fangs itched to end Virgo's life. He knew that this urge was evil, and began to wonder if his soul was dark. But every night he reminded himself that his love for his brother was stronger than his jealousy; or that it should have been. If his soul was indeed evil, he would have to battle it every second of his life, trying not to give in to his malevolent desires. For he cared more about having wings than his own brother's life, despite the fact that Virgo had done nothing wrong to him or to anyone. And yet he still resisted the urge to give in to temptation."
Elphaba's eyes shone in admiration, and Melena remembered that she had always liked the villains of her stories more than the heroes. Melena was never exactly sure why, but guessed that it was because they were powerful, and because she put so much effort into describing their histories. All she wanted to teach to her daughter this way was to be able to see a story from everyone's point of view, but it seemed that Elphaba admired the villains' wickedness. Melena felt a shiver run along her spine. Why did her daughter have to be so difficult to understand? Yet she continued the story despite her misgivings.
"However, Virgo failed to appreciate the gift of wings he had been given, and used them only for his own enjoyment. Scorpius, resenting his brother for his ignorance, began to imagine what he would do to help others if he himself had received the gift instead. He began to think that he deserved the wings for himself, and that he would be helping others by claiming them as his own. This, not an evil spirit or desire, was what destroyed Scorpius's good heart."
"So when Virgo went to sleep, Scorpius snuck up behind him," Melena told Elphaba, trying to ignore the fascination she could see in the little girl's eyes. "As he bared his teeth to strike, he hesitated, knowing deep inside that Virgo did not deserve to die. But when he pictured himself with Virgo's beautiful wings, he was able to convince himself that one sacrifice would be for the best. His pride overcame him, and Scorpius killed his brother. That night, he gained a pair of wings, but lost a brother and his heart. It was too great a price."
For the first time since Melena had begun telling the story, Elphaba looked at her with sadness instead of awe. Melena felt a pang of mingled relief and guilt; her relief was that her daughter didn't seem to look up to Scorpius anymore, and guilt that she was glad of Elphaba's sorrow. She must not remember the story in as much detail as I think she does, Melena thought, feeling some of the weight leave her chest. She's only three years old, after all, and far too sweet to look up to a character that ends up being evil in the end.
Feeling reassured, Melena continued: "But that isn't where our story ends. You see, Scorpius did receive wings, but they were not his brother's white ones. When Scorpius killed Virgo, he originally remained as wingless as ever. But the demon that had been tempting him for many months returned to him. Scorpius, trying to hide his guilt with anger, demanded to know why the demon had lied to him. The demon thanked Scorpius tauntingly for killing the angel that it had always feared, and mocked him, telling him that it would now be able to spread evil without fear of justice. To humiliate him further for his mistake, the demon gave Scorpius a pair of wings—as black as his heart, dappled with spots as red as the blood he had shed to earn them. His wings would always be a reminder of his evil soul and deeds."
"Scorpius," Melena went on, "flew away to escape from the horror of the evil he had committed, but the wind blocked all sounds from his ears except the ringing in his ears of the demon's words. Flying no longer represented freedom or joy to him, but now reminded him of a task that would haunt him forever."
"He flew back to his home," she told Elphaba, "intending to tell his mother the truth about what he had done, and to beg for forgiveness. But when she saw his black and red wings, she knew what he had done. She accused him of killing a perfect and innocent angel who had been so much better than he could ever be. Scorpius felt anger fill his heart, for Virgo had been far from perfect. He denied the crime, saying coldly that he had only returned Virgo's wings to their rightful owner, and thus had done nothing wrong."
"Infuriated by his cold-hearted words, Scoripius's mother summoned an arrow made of light," Melena continued. "Her light magic was powerful enough to destroy any shadowed soul, and brought fear into Scorpius's blackened heart. He tried to flee, but as his wings opened to flap, the arrow or light struck him through his chest, piercing his heart and both wings."
Elphaba's eyes widened. "Did Scorpius die?" she asked.
"No," her mother answered. "Scorpius's fear of death, stronger than even his mother's hatred, allowed him to somehow survive with his heart and wings pierced. But the holes in his wings and heart meant that he could no longer fly, and no longer feel any emotion. Scorpius had become the first Fallen Angel; his magic began to turn on itself; the shadow destroyed the light, and consumed the earth and air into its own power. His shadow magic had become stronger than any other, but at the cost of all his other magic."
"Some say," Melena said, lowering her voice ominously, so Elphaba had to lean in closer to hear her, "that the strength of his hatred gave him the power to be immortal. Others believe that his need for vengeance had destroyed him, leaving him as only a shell of himself, which eventually faded away entirely. And still others claim that his ghost is what tempts the human heart, and that his blood-red wings cover the moon during a lunar eclipse. No one knows what happened to Scorpius in the end, but his story is told to teach others not to fall for the trickery of demons and the darkness of their own hearts."
Elphaba looked up at her mother with round, chocolate brown eyes, though whether she was afraid or in awe, Melena couldn't tell. Melena suddenly felt a pang of foreboding that she wouldn't always be around to tell Elphaba the story of the demons and angels. She held her tightly by the shoulders, making Elphaba look into her eyes. "Promise me you won't forget the story again?"
Elphaba blinked in surprise, but then she nodded. "I promise."