Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Etc, etc. Blah, blah, blah. R and R if you like.
Elphaba's Point of View:
When Nessa started school at age six, she was overjoyed. Every morning leading up to the beginning of the school year, Nessa positively beamed at the thought of school.
But as the year started, Nessa grew quieter and quieter. She tended to stay in her room, wouldn't talk to my father or I, and occasionally would skip meals entirely. A few times, I went days between seeing her.
Around mid-December, very close to her seventh birthday, I caught Nessa sitting in her chair, staring out of the front window overlooking the lawn. Outside, some of the children of the waitstaff were playing. Father wouldn't let me out because, well frankly he never let me do anything fun.
I was sitting in the parlor opposite the foyer in which Nessa sat. I was supposed to be folding laundry, but I had finished and was reading a book.
After sitting there for an hour, Nessa approached the entryway as our Father prepared to leave for a business meeting in town.
As he kissed her head and turned away, I saw Nessa tug lightly on his coattails.
"Father?" I heard her ask quietly/
"Yes my dear?"
And then I heard the one question I had been dreading her finding out the answer to for my entire life.
"Father...why can't I walk?"
I saw my father's face fall. He knelt down next to Nessa, tears welling in his eyes. He waited, gathering his words for what seemed like forever.
"Well, my dear," he began, choking back tears. "I didn't want you to be green like your sister, so your mother took medicine to make sure you weren't green. But you came ot us too early, and your legs weren't ready yet."
Nessa stared at her lap for a few seconds, and then nodded. She didn't say a word, nor did she cry. She just nodded, turned around, and left for her room.
Father didn't know I heard the entire thing. He just choked back tears as he turned and left, he too without another word.
And that was the first time I ever cried for my sister.
Nessarose's Point of View:
I first received my leg braces when I was five years old. When I first got them, I was still so young that I barely understood what they were. And I really didn't know what pain they could cause. And not just to me.
I remember a few days after I received the braces, my father sat me down on the floor with Elphaba. He sat next door in his office, most likely studying Munchkinland law or something.
Elphaba and I were playing with my dolls. She loved to brush their hair, and liked for me to pick out their clothes for them. Even the green one Nanny made me that father didn't know about.
As we played, I felt the need to adjust the position of my legs. As I did so, one of the pieces of metal began to pinch my skin. I began to yell and cry, mainly because I didn't know what was happening.
I remember my father rushing in. His long robes flashed as he immediately grabbed my sister's arm. He threw her into the next room. I heard her body hit the other side of the wall.
He didn't do anything more, for it then clicked to him that I was still yelling. When he returned, he saw the problem and adjusted it. I stopped crying.
Then he stopped. He stood still, and looked between me and the wall, on the other side of which sat Elphaba.
He shook his head slowly. Then, with one swift movement, he scooped me back into my chair. Again, he shook his head.
Then he turned, walked straight back into his office and shut the door.
I wheeled myself through the doorway.
"Elphaba?"
She jumped to her feet, one green hand already holding the back of her head. Her eyes were wide and fearful, as if perhaps I would hurt her as well. And then she ran down the hallway and into our room.
And that was the first time I ever cried for my sister.
