This is my first attempt at a Wicked fanfic. I just thought that Gregory Maguire ended Son of a Witch at a very bad place so I have taken it upon myself to continue the story how I see fit. Please read and review!
P.S. I am having some problems with my keyboard--keys sticking and such-- so all spelling errors are my fault.
ANd I guess I have to do this though I know You already know this. I do not own Wicked or Son of a Witch. I don't own Liir, Elphaba, Nor, any of those people. Technically I don't even own Fabala because she was mentioned at the end of the book. She just wasn't given a name.
NOW you can enjoy.
How had he not noticed it before? She was so obviously green. It was hard to imagine any dirt or blood could have covered up that grassy shade. But then again reality had an odd way of hiding itself sometimes. More than just her skin color had been uncovered. If she was truly Liir's child then there was no doubt that he was of coarse Elphaba's son.
He brought her inside and wrapped a towel around her small body. Liir had never thought of himself as a father. Even after Candle had told him everything. But now he felt a connection to this little girl that he couldn't explain.
He had to be the father.
Then he remembered the writing on the wall. Elphaba Lives. Oh how accurate that had turned out to be. Elphaba did live, within the womb of Candle. He set her into a small basket and sighed. The Witch's granddaughter. She needed more of a name than that.
"How about… Fabala?" He asked and she cooed in approval. Fabala grinned widely and exposed her seemingly sharp teeth. Were babies supposed to have teeth? It didn't matter. Babies weren't supposed to be green either. That much he did know.
Fabala stared at him with the most piercing gray eyes. They weren't Elphaba's eyes. They weren't Liir's or Candle's. They were however Fabala's. They were stormy and deep. They had more soul in them than any eyes he had ever seen. If you could call it soul. Elphaba claimed she didn't have one. Maybe it had been given to this little green infant instead.
He tucked the Witch's cloak around her and the eyes closed with contentment. It was so simple to make her happy. Very unlike Elphaba. Would little Fabala grow up to be as cruel and politically conspired as her. Would Liir raise her better and with more love than Elphaba ever received? By her out look on life it seemed she had only ever received compassion from Fiyero.
In a mere day Liir had gone from the lonely confused boy with the Witch's broom to a father. He had a family now. It had just grown more than thought possible. Elphaba was his mother, Fiyero his father, Nor, Manek, and Irji all were half siblings, Shell was his uncle, Nessarose (though he had never met her) was his aunt. He now had nameless grandparents and most importantly, a daughter.
Elphaba no only lived but had caused so many things to come alive before Liir's eyes.
How had Nor known?
A small voice in the back of his head asked. The writing on the street had been hers after all. The handwriting style was too similar for him to think otherwise. Nor knew that Elphaba's heir was going to be born. That the green skin would once again be on a living person in Oz.
Where are you Nor? Are you alive? He fell asleep by the fire his hand resting on Fabala's basket. Just one more, poor green child to enter the world.
Liir woke up the next morning startled by the loud wails of Fabala along with the sun shining in his face. He took a minute to let his eyes adjust to the brightness before picking her up and cradling her in his arms. He whispered soothing words to her as he drowned the cloth in goat milk once again and set it to her lips. She accepted it happily. The milk was finished off quickly for she had such ferocity in her eating that she might have taken the cloth whole if allowed.
He smiled as she grabbed his pinky finger and squeezed it. She began to put it in her mouth but, wary of her teeth, he pulled it away. Liir could have sworn he heard her growl and he expected her to cry but she just sat in his arms and shot him dirty looks.
How could someone so young know about icy glares? Was he just imagining her seemingly furrowed brow and darkened eyes? The snarling lip? He blinked a few times but her expression stayed the same. He shrugged it off as proof of his insanity and took her outside.
The rain had lightened but random drops still littered the air. He found a bucket filled with fresh rain water and was struck with the idea that Fabala was in need of a bath. After making sure the water wasn't too cold he slipped her into the bucket and washed off her piss and other things that covered her flesh.
At least she wasn't allergic to water. He couldn't imagine how he would have kept her clean if that were the case. How Elphaba had done it was a mystery.
He wrapped her back up in the cloak and placed her in the basket. They couldn't live here forever. One goat would not give them the things they needed. At least not for very long. He could travel back to Kiamo Ko, but he didn't think it would be suitable for Fabala. Frankly he didn't believe any monkey beside Chistery was that trustworthy. Not that he had talked to many monkeys or even Monkeys.
Were Elphaba's parents still alive? He knew that her mother had passed away a while back and that she had visited her father just before she died. Could he have lived that long? Nanny sure was a good 100 years old but was that rare? He realized how little he knew about his own race. Human nature and life were never something he had learned. Sure he had learned Elphaba's nature—until she surprised him with something unexpected—and he had learned the nature of an army. He had even learned a thing or two about Maunts. But humans in general? Never.
So he grabbed Fabala's basket, with her inside, and the broom… Should he take the broom? The broom belonged to him now. He enjoyed flying.
He would take the broom.
He clasped it tightly in his hand and started his trip to the mauntery, where he would hopefully receive some ideas on how to parent a child.