Disclaimer: I do not own Wicked, or any of the characters, nor do I own Frankenstein, or any ideas inspired by it

Plot Summary: Inspired by, but not based off of, the story of Frankenstein by Mary Shelley, A Wickless Candle is about when Frexspar Thropp becomes motivated to create what he has known as the "lost child" that he and his wife never had. New to an unfamiliar world, and unfortunately green-skinned, Elphaba Thropp must now discover what her purpose is, and what foreign words such as "love", "affection", and "beauty" mean.

A/N: Please R&R! Reviews keep a writer writing, I always say :).

To say that the young, beautiful blossom that was Nessarose Thropp was concerned on behalf of her father would be quite the understatement. In truth, she was downright terrified for him. Ever since he had conceived that awful idea to create the lost child – the Unnamed God's child. At this point, Nessa was twelve years old. She was the most intelligent person in her class, but it didn't take a genius to know that sooner or later, Frexspar Thropp would work himself down to his grave.

Nessa was naïve enough, though, to only know very little about what had happened with her mother – why had she died? Why had she died birthing Shell? Why had Nessa's older sister died? Why hadn't she made it to birth?

Death was something that had begun to surround Nessa, ever since she was five and her mother died. Then, at age seven, her aunt died. Her closest friend died when she was nine. When she was eleven, she learned about her older sister, the one who never made it. That was also when her father conceived his idea and spent the next nine months until today working on it.

He nurtured this idea, spending hours upon hours every day caring for it. He rarely joined them for dinner; Nessa was stuck with just Nanny and Shell. Nanny looked after her – fed her, supported her lower back, and consoled her when she would get upset over her father.

Today, it was storming outside. Nessa was scared, but she wasn't quite sure why she was so scared. She sat in a room, perched on a chair with Nanny behind her, combing through her long, silky hair. She hated her sister, she realized.

With all the burning passion her armless body could muster, by the holy divinity of the Unnamed God, she hated her sister. Father had no reason to try to recreate her. To put her where she was not meant to be. It's for the Unnamed God, he said. He was reconciling a mistake. He was restoring the child that the Unnamed God didn't mean to take.

"Why does Father have to make her?" she said softly, more of a statement than a question. Nanny just continued playing with her hair and began humming lightly, a Quadling lullaby. Nessa hardly remembered Munchkinland; they'd been in Quadling Country for eight years, ever since she was four.

For some reason, this morning, Nessa had woken up with such an awful feeling. She couldn't quite ascertain why she felt so uneasy, but the storm was not making things any easier. With a jolt of anxiety, Nessa stood up.

Nanny frowned at her. "Come back, my pet. Nanny isn't done with your hair," she complained.

"I've got to go check on Father," was all she said.

It was difficult to walk without a support, but the stairs to the basement were near, and they had railings that she could lean against. She appreciated the support that her father had built into the house when they moved here. That was back when he actually cared for her and Shell; now… Well, he had completely missed her birthday two months ago. If that didn't say something about it, then she wasn't sure what did.

"Father?" she asked tentatively when she reached the bottom of the stairs. He was bent over his table, intricately working on applying some sort of chemical to the skin of his creation. He was grunting in pain, dollops of sweat rolling down his face and burns all across his hands from whatever chemical he was applying.

He didn't respond to her; he didn't even notice. She said it again, and then again. Carefully, wobbling a little but not enough to tip over, Nessa trekked across the stone floor. Her bare feet were cold against it, and she felt as if there was no life in this room aside from the small, flickering candle right beside the table, and even that wavered between life and death, as if it couldn't quite decide its own fate, and with that, the fate of the creation on the table.

Frex jumped a little when he felt her behind him. When he turned to look at her, there was a crazed look of excitement in his eyes. "Tonight is the night, my Nessarose," he said softly, gently reaching out a hand to stroke her cheek.

She was terrified. She had never seen him look like that before. Her heart was racing in her chest, and she felt hyperaware of the presence of the lifeless body on the table, composed out of death itself and woven together into some monstrosity that Nessa was so horrified to look at. She almost didn't look at it at all.

"Look at your sister, Nessa. Look at your older sister. You'll be meeting her soon," he prompted, his voice soft, tired.

And she did.

"Father… Why is she green? The Unnamed God gave you a green child?"

He frowned down at the corpse, and Nessa knew that she had lost a majority of the little attention she had of his. "She's… special," he smiled then, wide and loving. "This chemical I had to use to keep her skin flawless… It changed the color. But she's alright. She's going to be gorgeous, Nessarose. As shiningly emerald as the Wizard's palace. You'll see. I'll have my Elphaba, and she will be gorgeous. You'll all see…"

"Father…" Nessa cried softly, feeling tears prick at her eyes. This wasn't okay. This wasn't natural. What was he doing? Why was he going to bring it to life? There was no reason. Whatever ideas he had for it, whatever justification he had convinced himself of, it didn't make sense to her. The dead should stay dead, and that's that, not be brought back as some unnatural, horrific, green monstrosity.

When looking at the corpse objectively, Nessa could concede that her father did a very good job as hiding the stitches where he connected the body parts, but the body was at least six feet tall, and was only aged to about fifteen. In dim lighting, it might pass for an actual human, but the moment that hideous verdigris was exposed to the eye, the beholder would realize just how disgusting the monster is.

Lightning struck, and Frexspar let out a small shout of adrenaline. His machine was hooked into the monster, needles prodding it everywhere. "It's time…" he whispered. And then he flipped the switch.

The machine was big, and bulky. It was man-made and, Nessa thought, the work of the devil. It rattled and clanged in an inhuman way, and the most revolting stench came from an exhaust pipe sticking out of the side of it. The machine shook the nightstand that had been pulled up beside the worktable, and with it, the small glass of water that Nanny had brought down earlier. If it weren't for Nanny, Nessa was certain her father's creation would have made him as dead as it. He certainly would not have taken care of himself.

Slowly, like a child coming into the light after having been locked in a dark closet during a playful game of hide-and-seek for fifteen minutes because she was so great at hiding, the creation's eyes opened, fearful as a baby bear encountering a full-grown possum that she had never seen before and curious as a fox kit exploring outside the den away from her mother's watchful gaze and innocent as a young lamb approaching a prowling lioness with friendly naïveté, unaware of the fate that awaited her if she did so.

"Elphaba…" Nessa whispered the name, that fated name that was assigned to her elder sister before she was even born, given a legacy that she didn't want and so chose to abandon rather than be born into such a name.

Her sister's eyes were unfocused but wide, and she took in a deep breath, shuddering it as it came out. Those eyes, though, were like chasms, dark and deep and filled with mysterious secrets that had somehow formed themselves within just one short moment of being alive.

Nessa felt tears begin to fall from her eyes, but in spite of herself, she did not hate this creature. She couldn't. She couldn't hate her sister. "Oh, Elphaba…"

"Monstrous."

Nessa turned to look at her father, and was both shocked and haunted at the absolute ire she saw in those shadowed eyes. "Father?" she asked tenderly, her voice no more than a murmur.

"It's monstrous. This thing is not the Unnamed God's child… This devil… This devil is not beautiful… I had meant her to be beautiful… Oh, by the Unnamed God!" he gagged then, hand coming to cover his mouth. He was trembling, eyes open wide with fear. "This thing is not beautiful! This revulsion! This demon! This absolute fiend!"

Elphaba didn't hear, or if she did, she didn't understand what they were saying. How could she? She was an infant, a newborn, just now experiencing the world for the first time. Slowly, she felt her fingers, pressing them down into the table. Her eyes moved about, and her mouth opened, but no sound was made.

With the unconfident strength of a toddler attempting its first steps, she pushed with her hands, beginning to raise herself up from the table.

"No!" Frexspar shouted then, his voice brimming with anger and terror. His hand snatched the cup of water from the nightstand and flung its contents at Elphaba. What could that do to stop her?

Nessa was prepared to tell him that that was useless, but then the water hit Elphaba's bare chest, and her skin began to sizzle in what sounded like a quite painful way.

She looked down at her own chest, eyes wide at the new sensation. Elphaba seemed as if she wasn't sure what to make of it. She lifted her hands, stopping to examine them for a moment and see, Nessa thought, what they were, what she was moving, and if they were hers. Then those green hands slapped themselves onto that plateau of a ridge on her, stretching from one side of her chest to the other, and she howled in agony.

With a jump at the scream, Frex spat on the creature and bolted out of the basement. "Father!" Nessa called, distressed, but he paid her no heed. She felt dizzy, unfocused. She almost didn't know what was happening anymore, who that person in front of her was.

Carefully, she sat down in the chair her father had just occupied. Elphaba was examining herself, discovering her body, and gently prodding at the marks on her chest.

"It's okay," Nessa said, drawing the girl's eyes. She managed a small smile through her tears. "It's going to be okay, you know what? It will be okay."

Elphaba met her gaze, and seemed almost quizzical for a second. She opened her mouth, and thought about something. "Et… Et wid beh oooka?" she tried. Her voice was hoarse, rough as a raw stone. Nessa thought she was trying to copy her mouth movements, and her smile widened in spite of herself.

"Yes… Yes, Elphaba. Et wid beh oooka," she laughed. Then, something occurred to her as Elphaba realized they had surroundings and slowly began to examine them, looking about herself and all around the little laboratory, even if she couldn't make sense of them as a newborn. "Nanny!" Nessa called. "Oh Nanny, I need your help!"

Elphaba looked at her again, eyes narrowed a bit. She attempted to say 'Nanny', but it sounded more like gibberish than her 'It will be okay'. Nessa laughed a little more, delighted at the life she saw in this being now. Catching on, Elphaba went, "Hah… Hah… Hah hah…" and just about smiled herself.

"Nanny, you must come see this!"

"Nanny's coming, you pet. Nanny's old. Her hips don't work like they used to," the old woman grumbled as she worked her way slowly down the stairs.

"What's going on, Nanny? Nessa? Did Father finally do it?" Shell asked, peeking his head out from the top of the stairs.

Nessa rolled her eyes at his incessant nosiness. "You go check on Father, Shell. Go find him."

After a minute, Nanny reached the bottom of the stairs. Elphaba looked at her with a mix between fascination and fear. Nanny hobbled closer to them. "My, my… Frex's got some awful lighting down here, don't he?"

"No, Nanny, she really is quite green."

"By Lurline!" Nanny gasped as she caught sight of the girl's painfully blistered chest. "What happened to you, you hideous child? Did he make you like that?"

"Water did that. He threw a cup of water at her. It burned her, I think."

"Burm…" Came Elphaba's tentative echo, probably trying to say 'burned'. She didn't seem to have full control of her tongue yet.

Nessa leaned back in the chair, giving Elphaba an encouraging smile. "She doesn't understand us. He had named her Elphaba, after Saint Aelphaba, I presume. He freaked out when she opened her eyes. He called her a monster, a fiend. But… When she opened her eyes, all I saw was my sister."

Gently, Nanny laid a hand on Elphaba's shoulder. The green girl jumped a little, looking down at the hand with curiosity. "Sisser…" she tried, again, to mimic the movements of Nessa's mouth. She grabbed Nanny's hand roughly. "Sisser. Sisser. Et wid beh oooka. Sisser burm?"

"Let's get you some clothing, dear," Nanny said, taking her hand and retrieving one of Frex's lab coats from a hanger on the wall and wrapping it carefully around a naked green body after removing the hooks from the machine.

Elphaba was intrigued by the sensation, and pulled at the clothing with interest. "Burm sisser et wid beh oooka burm burm sisser?" She met their eyes with a touch of anxiety.

Both Nessa and Nanny were confused for a moment, but then Nessa realized what Elphaba was trying to do and struggled to hold back her giggles. "She's trying to communicate. She's trying to join our conversation. She just doesn't know how."

At the new words, Elphaba took a little delight, grinning like a fascinated child. "Doh-ow. Doh-ow. Sisser doh-ow et wid beh oooka doh-ow. Burm doh-ow," she smiled at them proudly.

Nanny patted her shoulder. "There, there, dear. You must be starved. Let's go get you something to eat."

It was an endeavor, Nanny getting Elphaba to stand and ascend the stairs. Elphaba's first steps were shaky, a toddler trying to imitate her peers. But she gave it her best effort, and only fell once or twice. After Nanny got her up the stairs, she abandoned her briefly to help Nessa balance as she, too, climbed up into the living room.

Only… When they got back up there, there was no trace of Elphaba. "Sweet Lurline…" Nanny murmured in shock, looking around nervously. "Where could that little monster have gone?"

"Elphaba?" Nessa called out worriedly.

It was then that they heard a slight creaking, coming from down the hallway. Nanny rushed, with a hand on Nessa's back, propelling her forward, towards Frex's room, but it was too late.

Frexspar was despairing in his bed, head in his hands, murmuring prayers for forgiveness to the Unnamed God. Shell was on the bed beside him, trying to comfort him in the best way his seven year-old mind knew how, by talking. But Frex ignored him.

As the door creaked open and Elphaba peered curiously into the room, Frex noticed. He sprang into action, shouting curses and running at the innocent girl. She looked on in fear, not sure what was happening, until he grabbed a bookend and began to beat her with it.

Elphaba cried out in pain, raising her hands to try to block herself. Nessa and Nanny were both screaming at Frex, and Shell had broken out into tears (as had Nessa), but Frex was relentless. He cried out his anger at the poor girl, until Nanny left Nessa to push him off of her.

"Get out of here!" Frex screeched at Elphaba, throwing the bookend. It hit her hard in the shoulder, and she stumbled back, trembling from head-to-toe and eyes wide with panic. "Go!"

She probably didn't understand the word, but she understood enough. Elphaba stumbled away, running as fast as her clumsy legs would take her, climbing through an open window.

"Elphaba!" Nessa called worriedly, but the girl didn't even stop. Not for the first time, Nessa cursed her disability, her armlessness. If she only had balance, she could chase after her… But she didn't, and Shell was curled up on the bed, crying in fear, and Nanny was dragging Frex into the bath to force him into a cold shower, and there was nothing any of them could do.

XXX

She was running. She was running, and running, and she didn't even know what running was. All she knew was that she hurt all over, and that those beings had hurt her. She was gone, running and running and trying to escape what she didn't even know into something she didn't even know and she didn't even know she was escaping or what escape was only that she was running and she was running away from there away from the beings that hurt her because the beings that hurt her made her running and since she was running she hurt too because she didn't know her body and her unknown body didn't want to run and she felt heavy and uncomfortable and completely out of touch with her body as she ran and didn't even know it or what she was feeling only that she didn't like it and she wanted it all to be gone but she was gone and she was running and running and she didn't know what else she could do only that it all burm and she was running and

XXX

"Galinda, darling, I don't think you understand right now the importance of you getting married at a young age. Before you know it, your metabolism will go out the window, and you'll have sagging skin, and wrinkles. You're seventeen right now. You should have been married two years ago."

With a heavy sigh, Galinda closed her eyes. She was tired of her mother's lectures, and she was tired of being yelled at. "I'm looking, Momsie. I am."

Her mother crossed her arms over her chest in an unconvinced way. "Really? You're looking. Is that why you just broke up with Arnie? He could have made you a good husband, you know. He's going into medicine; do you know how much medicine pays? You'd get to be a happy, plump little housewife for him. But you have to marry when you're young."

Galinda scrunched her nose a little. Arnie had been…revolting, to say the least. He had a fat tongue and crooked teeth, breath like he had just eaten out of the garbage, and brown hair that was so greasy, it looked black. Aside from that, he was touchy – too touchy.

"I'm not going to defend myself, Momsie," Galinda shrugged as she touched up her mascara. "I'll be going to Shiz University next year. I will find someone there."

"You know, I don't really get why you want to go to university at all," her mother found a new avenue of ridicule. "Your father and I were married by the time we were fourteen, and I had you not two years later. You should have found someone by now. Housewives don't need to be educated."

Rolling her eyes, Galinda began to feel annoyed at her mother. "I'm going to Shiz University," she said with a sort of finality to her tone. "I will find a husband there, and I will be educated. There are things I wanna learn about, Momsie, like sorcery, and architecture."

Larena shook her head disapprovingly. "That's all a man's work. You don't understand. Oh, however did we end up raising you so horribly wrong?" she lamented with an air of drama to her tone.

Gritting her teeth for a second before remembering that it wasn't ladylike, Galinda tried to focus on her makeup rather than her mother's harsh words. "I really haven't the faintest idea," she responded lightly, deciding to give up on fighting her mother for now. "I will find a husband."

She would go to Shiz University, too. That much, Galinda promised herself.

XXX

Two years had passed since the incident where her sister had been recreated. The entire Thropp family had spent those two years trying their best to forget about her. Frex seemed to, the very next day after she was gone, revert back to how he was before he even realized his project. He was a warm father to Nessa and Shell once more, remembering birthdays and cooking on the odd day when he felt like giving Nanny a break. He helped them with their schoolwork and taught them Unionist lessons, but he had a much bigger stress now on the fact that the dead should remain dead. They had also moved back to Munchkinland shortly after.

That and the fact that he now avoided the statue of Saint Aelphaba in the lower quarters of Center Munch like the plague were the only indications that anything at all had happened on that night. Looking in from the outside, one could compare the Frex from three years ago to the Frex today and find no obvious change, just a slight shift in interests.

Nessa, however, was having quite the hard time forgetting. She didn't know how he could do it so easily. For her, the image of those warm, dark cocoa eyes were ingrained into her memory, endless chasms of mystery. It was as if those eyes alone held all of the answers to life.

Once, she had persuaded Frex to talk to her about that night. It was about a month afterwards, and he had been in a contemplative mood. Nessa had brought the subject up, and he had told her, curiously, that it was the eyes that showed him just how inhuman this creature was. He had stated that that was the last time he would ever talk about such a thing.

This dinner table was suddenly suffocating for Nessa. Nanny was trying to coax some more yams into her mouth, but she wasn't hungry anymore. Using her legs, she pushed her seat back and stood up. "I shall go take a walk. Nanny?"

"Nanny don't get to eat then. Nanny never get to eat," she grumbled, but stood and began accompanying Nessa out of the house. Nessa never did find out where her sister had gone, and if she had arms, she would go looking for her.

The two of them walked in silence for a long while, but Nessa wouldn't call it a stretch to say that the same thing was on both of their minds. Whenever Frex would show his subtle changes in behavior, Nanny and Nessa would share very worried, but knowing looks.

Nessa realized that that night had affected Nanny almost as, if not as much as, deeply as it had affected her. In that strange green creature, Nanny had seen a child, an innocent life that needed to be guided and aided, no matter how hideous she truly was. Nanny had seen a "she", not an "it", when she looked into those eyes, much as Nessa had.

It was infuriating, not knowing what had happened to the six-foot human girl. If she aged, she'd be either two years old, or around seventeen. For all they knew, Elphaba could have been pelted to death with rocks, or unknowingly stepped into a lake and burned herself alive, or even a fire and burned herself alive.

Nessa shuddered at the thoughts, and Nanny's steadying hand on her lower back became more prominent. She glanced up at the sky and realized that the sun was going down already. The walk had been short, but it had been enough to clear her mind. She was about to suggest to Nanny that they turn back. But just then, that very moment, a hesitant voice rang out behind them.

"I remember you. Vaguely…"

The both of them spun around in sudden fright at the rich, deep voice. Nessa stumbled, but Nanny steadied her out of instinct. They were both shocked to see a tall, gangly figure some ten feet behind them. She was dressed in a drab, shapeless dress that was too big for her, and her hands were clutching the sides of the skirt in anxiety.

"Elphaba…" Nessa said, tentatively. The lighting was so dim now, she couldn't be sure. "Elphaba, is that you?"

The newcomer took a hesitant step forward. "That's what he called me…in his journals. They were in the pocket of the coat. After I learned how to read, I read them, and it explained a lot. I've been trying to track him down for months."

But Nessa wasn't paying attention anymore. Tears were streaming down her face and she shook her head slowly. "Oh, Elphaba…" she sighed.

Nanny left her for the green girl, immediately going to wrap her in a hug. "There, there, dear. Nanny's got you now."

But Elphaba stepped back, arms going around herself protectively. "I don't like…touching," she admitted.

"Why'd you come?" Nessa asked, more out of concern than anything else. "You remember how he treated you last time he saw you, don't you?"

"Yes," something dark flickered across Elphaba's eyes. "I need to talk to Frexspar. I want to join society. I can't do that alone. I tried. I need his help." Both Nanny and Nessa exchanged a hesitant look, and Elphaba went on. "I can convince him. Trust me. I just… I need you to take me to him. He can hit me all he likes."

This Elphaba was far different from the child that had presented herself to them on that table, the one who struggled to copy Nessa's mouth movements, curiously entered Frexspar's room, and ran off on her own. She had matured, and she had matured quickly. In two years, she had learned conversation, and ideas. She'd learned how to read, how to speak. All on her own.

"We'll take care of you, dearie," Nanny promised, beckoning Elphaba to follow them. She then placed a hand on Nessa's lower back and began to guide her back to the house. Elphaba was silent as she followed behind them, not even scuffling her feet, and Nanny had to continually glance behind her to make sure the green girl was following.

The walk back to the house seemed infinitely longer than the walk from. Nessa thought that they couldn't possibly have walked this far in such a short amount of time, but then the house came into view, and she felt her heart speed up a little in concern for her sister. How would Frex react to seeing her again? Would he beat her, like he did before? Would he greet her as an old acquaintance? The former seemed much more likely.

The door groaned irritably at them as they opened it, as if it was trying to warn them not to enter, to heed its warning just this once and not venture into the spiteful home. As death-riding rebels, though, they entered, feeling altogether ready and anxious for the interaction that might await them.

At first, Frexspar didn't see them. He was engaged in a game of dominoes with Shell, hunched over a table as he struggled not to lose to a clever nine-year-old. "Welcome back, Nessa. Nanny. I hope your walk was refreshing," he said halfmindedly.

But then Shell looked up and caught sight of them, of Nessa standing nervously with her hands in fists, of Nanny with her chin raised in defense and a hand on Nessa's back, and then Elphaba, who had stepped forward in front of the both of them with her long, crooked nose high in the air, affecting an air of defiance. She was the picture of a strong front aside from the slight shaking of her hands on her skirt.

"See, Father?" Shell shouted. "I told you she was real! I told you! It wasn't a dream!"

Father's fist clenched before he turned; Nessa suspected he had an idea about what it was Shell was referring to. And then he turned.

The moment his eyes, wrinkled at the corners from suspicion and absolute hatred and dark with the depth of the emotion there, caught sight of Elphaba, it was as if someone had lit a match to a spilled leak of a highly flammable chemical.

"Get that fiend out of here!" he screamed as he leapt to his feet, knocking over his chair haphazardly in the process. "Devil! Monster! Abomination!" He took a cup of water in his hands and flung its contents at the girl.

"No!" Nessa shouted, nearly falling over in her attempts to block the liquid. However, it seemed that Elphaba had been expecting this sort of reaction, and she skillfully ducked to avoid the contents of the cup. "Father, don't hurt her!"

Shell desperately dipped under the table and came out on their side, wasting no time in grabbing one of Frex's hands in an attempt to restrain him. Nanny took the other one, and while Frexspar fought them, trying to get to his fiend as he labelled her with every evil name he could think of, the two of them held strong.

"Really, I only seek an audience," Elphaba stated in annoyance, crossing her arms over her chest.

He scoffed in response. "And why should I grant an audience to you?"

This was good, Nessa thought. He had stopped his hissing and spitting, and now he stood there panting, but at least speaking to the girl as if she were a human being like him.

"Did I ask you to make me? To tear me from the ground and push me, afflicted, into an unforgiving world, and then abandon me while you sit on your golden throne and praise God? Life is precious, I've learned, and I shall protect it, but I did not ask for it. I did not ask for this skin, or this face, no more than you ask for this conversation or my presence here today at all. You've determined your own fate, and now you must suffer the consequences. I can be your ruin if you let me. In your mistake, you created me with an unnatural height, an unnatural speed, an unnatural strength. I don't believe you meant to, but you did. I was to be your perfect specimen. Your perfect child. I've read your journals, Frexspar Thropp; there's no reason to lie to me. I guarantee you, if a God did exist, then He would take shame in knowing how you say it all in His name, how you justified your own blind psychosis by calling me His child. And now you call me the child of the devil. How bitterly you turn against your own creation, and so quickly. Now, you will pay me what I am due as an unwilling creation. I have requests to make. I want you to hear me out, and then you can cast me aside, or you can reconcile the hate you showed your God, and you will grant my simple requests. Believe me when I say you won't have to lift more than a couple fingers to do so.

Several times throughout her speech, Frex opened his mouth to say something, or would begin to speak, but Elphaba didn't let him quiet her, and she persevered with what she had to say. By the end of it, Frexspar looked absolutely outraged, completely bewildered, and most certainly intimidated.

His mouth struggled to form coherent words for a few seconds. He was dumbfounded, not quite sure how to process all of the emotions that came with everything Elphaba had said to him.

"What are your demands?" he finally managed, his voice course and angry.

"Not demands," she said lightly. "I prefer to call them requests, Father."

That seemed to enrage him. "I am not your father!" Nanny and Shell had to reinforce their grips on his arms to keep him from lashing.

But Elphaba just smiled knowingly. "Did you not create me? Perhaps my terminology is wrong. I shall call you Creator."

"What are your demands, beast?" he near enough snarled.

Her smile became more of a grin, cocky and omniscient. "I have only survived these past two years out of yearning to learn. That's all I've ever wanted. The first town I entered did not go over well. I was wearing nothing but your cloak, with my hair mangled from a week without being tended, and the people reacted awfully. They pelted me with stones, and I had to discover that I was different. That I could not join society because I was different. I lived behind a library, scuttling behind the trash cans and collecting scraps of paper that were thrown away. The symbols on them, I knew that they had to mean something. Slowly, I heard people reading things. I would sneak in at night, and I would memorize symbols. After a year spent like this, I could read somewhat fluently. That's when the crew for the library changed, and a strict night security guard established her place. She caught me in there one night, and she beat me with a flashlight. I had to learn, and I had to learn fast. But the people… They started to leave things in that library. I would still sneak in, but I knew when she worked, and I knew how to avoid her. I found clothing, abandoned in the center. Sometimes food – until then, I had eaten out of the dumpster of a nearby restaurant. An umbrella, I found once. It was only when I changed my clothing that I noticed your journals, and I read them, just two months prior to now. I traveled all the way from Quadling Country in search of you. I lifted a dark hoodie that could conceal my pigmentation at night, and I never stopped reading. I want to join society, Frexspar Thropp. Don't you see? I want to join society. I want to learn. To study." She sighed and let her arms drop to her sides. "I wish to go to university. Put me under your name. Call me a lost cousin. Give me an identity. You named me, didn't you? Elphaba. Elphaba Thropp. Claim me, and you won't have to worry about me at all. By next year, I will be in university. I will not come home for break. I will remain there until I graduate, and never will you see me again. This is my request. You gave me life, but you did not give me a life, and I want both. This is my request."

A/N: Hope you liked the first chapter of A Wickless Candle! Please do leave reviews letting me know what you thought. I've really had fun with this idea so far!