A/N: I know Frex seems very out of character in this chapter compared to chapter two, but I figured that as long as Elphaba had been keeping her powers under control and taking proper care of Nessa, he would have no reason to be angry at her. Hopefully this makes up a bit for his cruelty in chapter two.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, the only spell I know from the Grimmerie is the one that turned Fiyero into the Scarecrow, so I'm still searching for a way to magick Greg, Winnie, and Steve into giving me the rights. Until then, I don't own it.
xXxXx
I am immensely surprised when a servant appears at my bedroom door and tells me that my father wants to see me in his study right away. Wondering what I've done to warrant his disapproval this time, I make my way downstairs and tentatively knock on the door.
"Enter," booms his voice from the other side.
I do as he directed, and see him sitting behind his desk. "You wanted to see me, Father?" I ask, approaching warily.
But when he looks up, there is no hint of anger or displeasure on his face. "Ah, Elphaba. Yes, come in." Startled by the lack of open hostility, I dare to take a step or two closer. Father studies me closely, as though seeing me for the first time in a long while. "So. Tomorrow you turn sixteen," he observes after several moments.
"Yes, sir," I agree, trying not to sound too surprised. I wasn't aware that he even knew when my birthday is, let alone how old I'll be.
"It seems like just yesterday you were a tiny little thing, and now here you are. Why, in just another couple of years you'll be a grown woman."
Biting back the urge to make a sarcastic comment about him missing my growing up because he simply chose not to pay attention to it, I merely nod, and wait for him to come to the point of the conversation.
"A young lady should not be going about in clothes more suitable for a girl several years younger," he continues, and then gestures to a stack of several largish rectangular boxes that are sitting beside his desk. "I've ordered you some new dresses. I hope you find them to your liking."
Never before have I had my father say that he hoped something was to my liking. I stare at him for a moment or two, stunned by the unexpected generosity. Nessa is usually the one who gets all the pretty new clothes. After a few clock-ticks, I finally manage to reply, "I'm sure they will be, Father. Thank you." He dismisses me with a nod, and I collect the boxes and head back upstairs to my room, still slightly amazed at what has just happened.
Upstairs, I take out the dresses and look them over, pleasantly surprised to find that they are, indeed, to my liking. I decide to change into one of them right now, and choose one made of an elegant midnight blue material. Once I've changed into the new dress, I examine myself in the mirror, feeling a bit like a child playing dress-up. The skirts are longer and heavier and the bodice more fitted than what I'm used to, but Father wants me to wear it, so I don't dare refuse.
After changing clothes, I go back downstairs. Father is just leaving his study as I come down, and he glances up and gives me a look of… could it be?… approval. "You look uncannily like your mother in that color," he tells me, sounding very surprised to discover the fact. I smile slightly at the compliment (at least, I think it's a compliment; perhaps the first he's ever paid me) and move to continue down the stairs. But I stop when he speaks again. "You have her dark eyes, you know. Her bearing. Her smile. It's the strangest thing… Nessarose is a perfect blend of Melena and me. But you… you've always only taken after your mother. I've never understood it…" He shakes his head, unable to quite give adequate expression to his confusion, and walks off without another word.
I stand there looking after him for a moment before going on my own way. As I pass the open door to the parlor, I catch a glimpse of the portrait of my mother that hangs there. I can't be sure, but out of the corner of my eye I could swear I see the woman in the painting wink at me.
xXxXx
If you do not review, Elphaba asks me to warn you politely that, in the words of another of my muses, "a disaster beyond your imagination will occur." (And an extra cookie to you if you can tell me who this other muse of mine is. ;D )
