Hello all. This is my first fan fiction ever, so yay! I wrote it before I knew this website existed, obsessed to my friends about it, and they told me about this site. So now, after reading a ridiculous amount of fan fiction, I finally made one of these. Hooray!
Anyway, though the book tells you about Elphaba's quadling childhood, in the musical you don't really know much except her father hates her… so I wrote something about that. I actually wasn't sure how mean I should make Frex, so I hope I did good on that… It's musical verse except for the whole 'water burns her' thingy.
Disclaimer: Wicked does not belong to me
"Ooh, it's so pretty!" Little Nessarose squealed happily, as a little group of people came over the crest of a shallow hill to a little meadow of wildflowers. The flowers bloomed in hundreds of different colors among gentle blades of grass, and beyond a small pond the growing fields of Munchkinland could be seen, glowing varying shades green and orange in the morning light. A few servants pushed her wheelchair, and the governor, Frex, walked beside his lovely daughter with a dignified air. He smiled warmly down at her.
Lagging behind the main group walked another girl, a bit older than the one in the chair, wearing a short blue-ish dress and black hair swinging down her back. Her skin was a pearly green similar to the stems of the flowers she trod on.
"Elphaba, come on, aren't they pretty?" Nessa asked happily. Elphaba didn't speed up, but continued walking slowly until she was next to her sister. "Aren't they pretty?" She repeated.
"Yeah, pretty…" Elphaba said quietly, almost to herself, and sat down in the soft grass next to the chair, twirling a red wildflower between her fingers.
"They're beautiful, my precious." Frex said, walking over and kissing Nessa on the cheek. "Have fun, darling. Elphaba, watch your sister." Elphaba didn't mention the fact that Nessa was hardly going anywhere, even without Frex watching like a hawk from across the field, what with being strapped in a chair as she was. In fact, the green girl did not even think those thoughts; she still had the innocence that young children often possess.
Going to these little meadows was a treat for the girls, or more specifically for Nessarose who loved the colors on the mornings of late spring such as this one. She exclaimed how pretty they were each time. The girls, being so young and being the governor's daughters didn't leave their large house often, though Elphaba didn't enjoy the outings as much as she should have. She just came along.
"Wow, look at that one, sissy, can you pick it for me? I can't reach." Nessa pointed to a patch of flowers a few feet away.
"This one?" She asked, picking one.
"No. No the big purple one." Elphaba saw the one her sister spoke of, and pulled the blossom up by its roots, which hung loosely in the air.
"Purple's my favorite color." Nessarose took the flower and held it as if it were a delicate piece of jewelry rather than a weed. "What's your favorite color Elphaba?"
"I think I like red." She replied, spinning the crimson flower again and smiling.
"Ew," Her sister said, wrinkling her nose, "red's the color of blood."
"It's the color of roses, too, and roses are pretty."
"I think you should like green." Nessarose giggled.
"Why?" Of course Elphaba could easily guess why, but she couldn't keep from asking. She glanced down at her emerald hands.
"Because of your skin, silly."
Elphaba gave Nessa a strange look. "Your skin is white, but you said you like purple."
"Oh yeah. That's funny." Nessa laughed, and though Elphaba didn't think it was that funny, she smiled at her sweet little sister anyway. She pushed her sister around for a while and they admired the flowers. Then Nessa's blue eyes lit up. "Ooh, a frog! Sissy, can you get it?" The emerald child didn't answer, but followed her sister's gaze to a brown toad near the pond. She walked over to it and crouched down. The little creature wasn't scared of her at all, it seemed, and her plan was to pick it up and bring it back to Nessarose. But as she was about to cup it in her hands, she saw the sharp reflection of the sun off water on the bumpy surface of the toads skin. Elphaba recoiled instantly and ran back to Nessa.
"Ahhh, you couldn't get it?" She asked.
"It was wet." Was the reply.
"You never touch water." Nessa pouted. "I dare you to go and put your hand in the pond."
"No." Elphaba spoke the word with a sudden firmness.
"Please." Her sister begged.
"Maybe you should do as your sister asks." Elphaba jumped at the sound of her father's voice. It had lost the warmth from when he had spoken to Nessarose not too long ago.
"But Father," The green child said with a lowered head, "the water will burn my skin bad."
"Maybe it will do you good to get wet. Maybe it will make that putrescent skin of yours go away." Frex said the words as if there were an unpleasant taste in his mouth.
"Putrescent?"
Frex gave a very obvious and impatient sigh, as if this child was expected to understand the meaning of such a long word. "It means 'undergoing the process of decay'."
Elphaba's brow crinkled "Decay?" She looked down at her skin. "My skin looks like it's decaying?" She asked, curious. She knew it was an odd color… but decaying? The idea was new to her. Nessa's sweet voice piped up before Frex could respond.
"Daddy, it's getting cold. Can we go in?" She asked, apparently oblivious to the exchange.
"Of course. I have work to get to as well." His smile was back. He called to the servants to get the wheelchair and the little procession started back to the governor's house, leaving the flower field behind them.
"Nessa, do you think my skin looks like it's decaying?" Elphaba asked once they were back at the manor and eating breakfast. A nanny was watching the two girls as they ate, because Frex was busy with governor business as usual.
"Decaying?" Nessarose inquired.
"It's kind of like rotting I think."
"Ew, if your skin was rotting wouldn't you smell bad? Your skins just all weird." She giggled. "It's all green when it's suppose to be all white or brown or something."
"Oh." Elphaba said. "What about you, nanny?"
"Eat your eggs, dear. You haven't touched your breakfast at all." The nanny was avoiding the question, but Elphaba didn't notice and tried again. "What do you think of my skin?"
"It's interesting, honey." The nanny replied, a little too sweet and slightly uncomfortably. Elphaba picked up on it this time and looked down at her plate to poke at her food again.
That night Elphaba got in bed early, and pretended to sleep while Frex tucked Nessa in the bed next to hers. She couldn't sleep at all though, so once the rest of the house was sleeping she slipped out of bed.
Under her bed there was an old wall mirror that had long since been removed from the wall. She pulled it out and wiped the dust off, sending little particles into the air, and propped it against the wall. Her bedside candle let off an orange glow as she lit it, setting light on sleeping Nessarose. She set it beside the mirror and looked at the reflection.
Of course she had realized that it was not normal for a person's skin to be green, but until now she hadn't realized how strange others seemed to think it was. She didn't often see people from outside the governor's house. She wasn't aloud to go near her father's business guests ever, but the few people she did see gave her strange looks. Sometimes it was just surprise or interest on their faces, which Elphaba understood, but sometimes there was something else too, something she never really figured out.
But hadn't she seen that same look on her father's face many times? She had seen it today clearer than ever before. It was disgust, wasn't it? She felt a pang in her chest and put an emerald hand on the glass. The girl in the mirror did the same. Elphaba's hair fell past her shoulders like a waterfall and her skin looked almost brown in the dull light where the green clashed with orange, so that she could almost trick herself into thinking it was normal. Am I that strange? She asked herself silently. She had a feeling like she was going to cry, but held back tears for fear of the hurt.
Looking into that glass, Elphaba asked herself a question she had been wondering for a long time but hadn't the courage to face until now. Why does Father hate me?
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