Hello readers!

This story was inspired by an Italian TV series with the same name. La dama velata means The veiled lady- or the lady with the black veil- and I first saw it when I traveled to South Italy two years ago. I saw it on TV and though I couldn't understand a word I continued watching it. Later, when I returned to my country I watched the full series and I absolutely loved it even thought I had no subtitles to help me understand. Slowly yet steadily I realized exactly what was happening and a few days ago an idea popped in my head about turning the plot line into a Fiyeraba fanfiction.

And now here we are! I warn you that this first chapter-prologue is mostly in the first person and written in present tense. However the rest of the story won't be like that. The narration will be in third POV from the next chapter on.

Thank you for baring with me and my ideas! I would appreciate it if you left a review because it gives me strength to write more and more! I really need your support!

Disclaimer: Wicked the musical or the book don't belong to me. The original "La dama velata" doesn't belong to me either.

Running

She can do nothing but run as fast as her shaky legs can carry her.

"Elphaba!" a familiar, once loving voice, yells from the distance as the sound of a horse approaching echoes in her ears.

The pounding of her heart is increasing with every moment that passes. And she runs... Without a stop to take a breath, without her mind drifting to miserable thoughts... She runs as she puts the disparate voice in the back of her mind.

"Elphaba!" The voice yells her name, the horse gallops even closer to her and she continues running.

The sound of running water catches her attention briefly yet she continues running as if her life depends on it; it actually depends. The person on the horse is either her savior or her potential murderer. She cannot take that risk and endanger herself and everything she holds dear.

Her family

Her friends

Her husband

Her son

She runs. It is the only the thing she can do and she may have a chance to save her life. Her dark dress is tangled around her legs, forcing her to run in a slower pace. She lifts the heavy skirt and but it won't help her to run faster. Branches and leaves get tangled in her messy bun and many locks are flying in several directions, blocking her vision. Desperate tears cloud her eyes as her breathing gets even quicker by the second.

"Elphaba stop! Damn it! Where are you?" That voice is so loving and desperate and for a moment she pauses and listens to the running water of the nearby river and the galloping of the horse. It is the voice of her husband. The voice of the man she loves more than her own life. Should she run to him? Should she show herself and be done with this nightmare?

But what if it is all a game of pretense? What if the loving tone in his voice is actually his desperation to be rid of her? What if he wants her dead more than she wants him alive? Her confused mind had played her tricks in the past. What if this is all a trick?

She runs again, her mind swinging back and forth from illusions and reality. She slips and loses her balance but soon she is standing again. Her whole body is a trembling mess and soon she finds herself exactly where she shouldn't have been... by the river...

The sound of the approaching horse is coming closer and closer while the voice calling her name becomes even more distant. She runs by the river a bit more when a suffocating pain in the chest forces her to slow down. She stumbles on a few more branches and realizes that the horse is right behind her. She won't even dare to turn around and face her predator. All she hears is the yell it her name again and for a brief second she stumbles and turns her face slightly behind, where she knows that the horse is ridding.

An excruciating pain fills her head as a strong whip comes in contact with her forehead. She stumbles behind and falls. She can't even scream as her numb body falls in the river.

Cemetery of Santremo, Munchkinland, 1906

I'm hiding in the shadows of the cemetery, dressed all in black, with a veil hiding my face from the world. There is a silence so oppressive and even breathing makes me suffocate. And then my heart stops as I watch you standing barely a few feet away from me.

You are staring at the grave of the woman whom you supposedly loved. That woman had stolen your heart the moment you first saw her. You stare at the gray picture and the name of that woman, the name of your wife, and you're crying. Your crystal like tears bring tears in my own eyes because I can see you hurting and it breaks my heart. Gone is the playful glimmer from your azure orbs. Gone is the teasing smile from your face, replaced by a sadness so overwhelming that kills you from the inside.

But then, as I start taking pity on you, other thoughts fill my mind. Are your tears, tears of sorrow or of remorse? Did you ever truly love the woman laying in the cold ground? Were you truly as devoted to her as you claimed to be? Did you ever actually see the beauty underneath with different eyes? Did you kill her and break her like I think you did? Or is my mind playing tricks again?

Yet you loved your wife... As long as you were hers and as long as she was yours, nothing would ever break you apart.

Still...

Were her fortune and title all that you were after for, or were your feelings genuine and pure? Is she still allowed to love you or should she hate you for your betrayal? Of course, you won't answer me because you have no idea I'm here, watching you crying over that marble grave.

You kneel on the ground and you leave something on the cold marble of your wife's grave. The symbol of your love; three beautiful ruby colored poppies. They were her favorite flowers after all and even now she smells their sweet aroma, mixed with the aroma of your love. Your lips form four words that feel like a dagger in my heart. You miss her, you claim. But is this only an act? Is this just the façade of the broken widower who had to keep up appearances for the public eye? Maybe you do miss her and I misunderstand you.

"Papa!" a voice breaks through the silence of your sobs and my eyes focus to a dark haired boy running towards you, after escaping the arms of a beautiful blond woman dressed in black. I see as you pick up the boy that hugs you tightly. You are the only thing he has now. Such a dreadful thing it is to lose your mother at the sensitive age of six. Are you really responsible for living your son motherless?

I see as you place a chaste kiss in top of his head of ebony locks and I also see as the boy looks directly at the picture of his "mama" and gives a watery smile. The ground under my feet is shaking and I'm not sure for how long I can stay hidden.

The blond woman sweeps her tears away, she herself crying for the loss of her best friend. Her cerulean eyes hold a sadness and a coldness that rivals no other. She smiles sadly at you and the boy and nods for you to follow her in the carriage that is waiting outside of the cemetery for you. She pities your broken family and though she is also in pain, she knows that she has to be strong for you and the little boy in your arms. She has to help you move on...

You climb the carriage but before you close the door, you turn around towards the cemetery once more and your eyes travel to the shadows of the old cemetery. Your azure orbs lock with mine but you can't see me behind the black veil. Not that you would easily recognize me if I wasn't hiding my face.

I'm nothing like I used to be and I'm pretty sure I hate this new me; this new me that is suspicious of you and that doubts your love. I hate this but I have no choice if I want to find the truth. This is the only way...

The carriage is leaving now and my shadowy self can finally wander around the cemetery. I emerge from the shadows and follow the path to the grave I'm looking for. I find it immediately and I stare down at the picture of the elegant woman and at her name engraved in golden letters.

Contessa
Elphaba Thropp Tiggular
1880- 1906

A woman both dead and alive.
A woman whose name is engraved on the cold marble yet she is staring at her own grave at this very moment.

My fingers trace over the ruby poppies and I can only think of how much I hate and how painfully I love the man who gave them to me in the first place. I want to go to my home and kiss my husband passionately. I want to tell him that through my unhappiness and my hallucinations, I loved him truly. I want to take my son in my arms and sweep his tears away; tell him that I'm alive and that he means the word to me. I want to run to my best friend and allow her to dress me up for a fancy event with pink lace. Pink won't class with my skin anymore...

There are so many things I want to do but I have a truth to discover. No one can know I'm alive until I know the truth... until I know who tried to kill me and why. I have to protect my child above all, even if that means that I'll have to fight his father in the process. If that means my supposed death then so be it...

Twenty six years ago
Palais de Santremo, Munchkinland, 1882

It was raining outside, the night she was born. It was late April yet the weather had yet to stabilize into the sweet spring routine. The sun was hot but the breeze was still chilly during the day. And tonight, the sky had been set to cry a thunderstorm- one of the strongest thunderstorms in the past ten years.

The whole mansion was on a fuzz that night. The master of the house, their well respected Conte Frexspar Thropp, had been on a business trip in the Emerald City for the past week and had yet to return due to the bad weather. The Contessa, their beloved Lady Malena, along with her sister-in-law, had run the household as well as she could for a woman in her condition. Everything had run out smoothly until that afternoon.

Lady Malena had been having her usual tea in the parlor in the company of her sister-in-law and her nephew when the first contraction hip her. She hadn't been feeling well that morning, the baby's kicks were hurting her more than usual, but she hadn't thought much of it. It was too early for the baby to be born. However she was proven wrong when she got into labor a few hours later. As she was laid on the mattress by the midwife and a servant girl, she could only tell one thing... "It's too early!"

And it was indeed a month earlier than when she was due to give birth.

Her nephew, six year old Macon, had been left outside of the room, refusing to go to sleep while his aunt screamed for the baby to be born. In his childish innocent mind he couldn't understand the prospect of pain, or the danger his dear aunt Malena was in. He only wanted to meet his new cousin, boy or girl, the sooner the better. His mother had scolded him for not going to bed but Macon had insisted and was now standing guard in front of his aunt's bedroom door. He would say that since his uncle was gone, he was the man of the house and he wanted to protect Malena and the new baby. Her screams would pierce through his ears and tears swelled up his eyes a few times, but a passing by maid saw him and explained that it was normal and that his aunt would be just fine. Besides, his mother was inside the bedroom too and she wouldn't allow a thing to happen to his sweet aunt.

Hours passed, hours filled with pain and agony for the young Malena who was clutching Morvana's hand as tightly as she could. Morvana was Macon's mother and the woman that had been married to her husband's brother. Now she was a widow since her husband had died two years ago but the Thropp family had accepted both her and her son as equal members of their household. She wasn't a Contessa like Malena, yet she was a well respected and wealthy lady. And she had also been a sweet comfort for Malena during her months of pregnancy. She would help with all the work that had to be done by a lady of such position and she was always willing to ease Malena's pains during those last months. Morvana was famous for her wonderful tea with green leafs and honey and Malena would drink one each day. Now, during her endless hours of labor, Malena only had Morvana as a comfort- what with her husband's absence.

Yet something was wrong...

Something was terribly wrong and the poor woman knew it from the moment she had first been laid on her bed. The midwife had simply informed her that there were some complications with the process and had said nothing more. In her panic and pain, Malena hadn't noticed the meaningful looks exchanged between Morvana and the midwife. They had assured her that everything would be alright and she had believed them. She only realized that she had fallen into a path with no way out when she felt a hot liquid between her thighs. And the liquid had spread in her soft mattress and had turned the white color of the silky sheets into a dark crimson one.

She had lost far too much blood which meant that things weren't going as planned. When it was time for her to push, she could do no such thing since she had no power left in her body to go along. The excruciating pain she was in didn't help her realize the conspiracy behind the birth of her child. By the time she gave the final push she was barely conscious and the word's "It's a boy!" barely reached her ears.

She never got a chance to meet her son since he was immediately swept away by Morvana. The woman took the baby from the midwife's arms the moment he was safely wrapped in the woolen blanket Malena had sewn for him and she went outside of the bedroom.

Little Macon stood from the place he was sitting as long as he heard the door opening and he took a brief look inside the room. He noticed that his aunt was barely awake and was still in a lot of pain. His mother looked at him with a stern look and his little eyes widen at the bundle in her arms.

"You won't say a word to anyone about what happened today. Not ever! Your cousin was born dead and that's all you need to know." Macon couldn't say that he understood what his mother was implying. All he wanted to do was to meet his cousin but his mother was holding the small bundle tightly in her arms, refusing his view of the baby.

"I do this for you Macon. For your future! And one day you'll thank me for it." she said strictly and walked away, the baby still in her arms.

Even to this day, Macon Thropp would never forget that day.

His mother had returned a few minutes later with the baby no longer in her arms. A satisfied smirk had graced her features and he had been scared from what he had seen in her eyes that day. His mother was capable of anything her six year old son had seen the endless possibilities in her ruthless actions for the first time in his life. The young boy had been a silent observer as he saw his mother entering Malena's bedroom once more, this time leaving the door open for him to pry in. He saw the blood around his aunt and he saw a bundle, identical to the one his mother had held a few minutes back. The bundle was actually a baby wrapped in a woolen blanket identical to the other one- white wool with blue and red stripes. The second baby was laid in Malena's weak arms and she stared at it lovingly as racked breaths left her body.

Morvana looked at the midwife with a questioning look but the midwife was far too stunned to say a thing. The new mother touched her baby's soft head and leaned down to lay a kiss upon his head.

"My little Elphaba!" she whispered and her final breath left her tortured body.

Morvana run to the dead woman and the child that was still in her limb arms and looked at it with shock upon her face. She gasped as she took the second child in her arms and looked at the midwife in horror.

"Twins!" the midwife confirmed. "But not exactly." she added as a second thought.

Little Macon was confused. And he became even more confused when he saw his baby cousin for the very first time. He would never forget how cute the little baby was, which her tiny nose and playfully small hands and the few dark locks decorating her crown. The little baby would have been perfect if not for that major detail- her abnormal green skin.

"So the boy is dead and the girl is a green monster." Morvana stated as she handed the baby back to the midwife. The woman stared at it for a while before nodding.

"And the breeding cow is dead and gone, huh?" The harsh words of his mother took little Macon by surprise and his young eyes traveled back to his aunt's motionless body.

"Surely you must know that I regret what I did today. She was an innocent woman and those poor children. Surely, you must feel just a ting bit of guilt." the midwife said and Morvana smiled wickedly.

"Not at all dearie. I intent to use those unfortunate events to my advantage and believe me when I say that Frexspar won't even know what's coming for him."

"You are cruel!" the midwife hissed and brought the baby girl closer to her chest. She had regretted deeply what she had been forced to do. It had been difficult for Morvana to find a midwife willing to take part in her conspiracies so the woman had threatened the family of the poor village midwife to gain her help. Now the midwife wasn't so sure she had made the right choice.

"Cruel?" a small laugh escaped her thin lips. "No dear. I'm not cruel. I'm only a woman full of ambitions and with a need for power. What is wrong with that?" The midwife didn't answer. It wasn't her place to do so. She would remain silent for the rest of her days.

Macon bare witness to many other events that took place in the days that followed. He saw as his uncle returned, eager to be close to his wife, only for his happiness to turn into ash in his mouth at the news of Malena's death during childbirth. He saw as Frexspar Thropp found out about te birth of his twins- the fact that the boy was a stillborn and that only the girl had survived. He then saw as little Elphaba got rejected by her own father due to her odd skin color and due to the fact she was a useless girl that couldn't inherit his precious title and land. Later, he saw as the remaining Thropp family abandoned the mansion in Santremo to go and live in Munchkin City while little Elphaba's care was entrusted in a family of farmers in Santremo. Her father had stated that he wanted nothing to do with her upbringing.

And so she grew up as Elphaba Thropp, the estranged daughter of a count, and against all odds she had a quiet and peaceful life in the countryside as a simple farm girl. The knowledge of her identity would forever haunt her but she would be happy no matter what.

Please review! Only if I see reviews will I update! Thank you!