Disclaimer: I do not own Wicked or any of the characters mentioned in this story.

The Witch of the Emerald City

Kirra White Tigress

Chapter Three:

And as she flew off toward the West, she thought she saw a familiar face with flesh as green as sin.

Liira shook her head to clear her head of the thought. She was only hallucinating, she was sure of it. It couldn't be her; Sister Saint Aelphaba had stated once that she hated this horrible city and that she wanted nothing to do with it anymore. That was probably why she left. Liira had probably only caught a glimpse of the lights of the Emerald City reflecting off of a window pane and into that alleyway. It wasn't her…. It couldn't be her.

The green girl allowed herself to be lost in her thoughts for once as she flew through the sky. For some reason her memories traveled to those of Sister Aelphaba on the last night she ever saw her. It was on Lurlinemas, the day that the Sister had always hated, and all of the others had gone down to bed already. Liira—who was once without this green curse—was left to tend to her, to make sure that she didn't try to drown herself in water—the liquid both seemed to absolutely loathe. And it wasn't an order that Liira stayed up; it was because she felt a sort of connection with her.

Aelphaba was sitting near the fireplace, reading like she always did at night. Liira had pulled up a small stool and just stared at her. It was a routine that they had set up unbeknownst to them ever since Liira could remember. The green woman just looked so enchanting, so angelic despite her demonic demeanor. She was just so fascinating with the way she could close herself off at will and not be bothered by what others said about her.

Liira decided to go against tradition tonight. She moved a little closer to Aelphaba to where her head was lying on the armrest. The scent of cinnamon filled her senses, making her smile. She was glad to be this close to the one she admired; Aelphaba made her feel so safe in a world of criticism and loneliness…. What she didn't expect were long fingers stroking her dark hair, slowly and gently.

She looked up at the Sister, who still had her eyes trained on the book, in confusion. Liira had never been touched by her—not even a mere brushing of the fingers as a gesture of comfort. It struck her as odd that the usually closed-off woman would do something like this. Then, by just the utterance of a word, her action started to make sense.

"Galinda…."

Liira smiled to herself, though she didn't know why. Maybe it was because she was happy that at one time Aelphaba was happy with someone and close enough to another human being to actually take part in this kind of interaction. Whatever it was, she allowed Sister Aelphaba to continue until it finally registered in her own mind what she was doing. The green woman flushed when she glanced over at Liira. "Sorry," she muttered before stopping. "You just remind me of her so much…."

And at that, no other words were passed between them. No words were needed—everything was already communicated through that gesture. Several hours later, Liira woke up in the cold room, sitting in the chair Aelphaba had used previously with a blanket draped over her. Another few hours had passed before she finally had to go ask where the Sister was. Her answer was not what she wanted: "She's as good as dead now."

Liira shuddered at the memory, then shivered again as the cold air finally took its toll on her. She lowered herself so that she was at a more comfortable altitude before taking in her surroundings. She realized that she was in the Vinkus, Kiamo Ko to be more could easily spot the abandoned army tents and the old fields where the crops were grown, the small homes and villages that were scattered everywhere, and the meandering trails that marked where the hunters chased after their meals on a daily basis… if there was anyone here anymore.

Up ahead was a nearly demolished castle, the mighty citadel where it was said the Wicked Witch of the West once resided. A quick tour wouldn't hurt, she thought. Liira then shook her head. What was she thinking! This was the home of the Wicked Witch! How could she possibly want to tour around a place like that?

Relax. You're now the Witch of the Emerald City. You've got the broomstick and the flying skills to prove it.

Liira sighed as she lowered herself to the ground in front of the castle. "Witch of the Emerald City, huh?" she said to herself. She smiled at the nickname. It could work….

-( )-

The moment she stepped inside she wished she hadn't. It looked like the cyclone that struck Munchkinland all those years ago had reformed and hit the other side of the country. Tables and chairs were turned over everywhere curtains were torn to shreds, the doors were knocked off of their hinges…. Forget the cyclone—this was a full-fledged war zone. Liira took a cautious step forward to not accidentally catch herself on a piece of glass.

She went further into the castle, her eyes looking over every detail enough to memorize it. Liira made her way to the stairwell that led to what she supposed was one of the towers. She didn't bother lighting a torch—even though it was home to one of the evilest people in the world, she didn't want to risk burning it to the ground. There may be books that don't exist anywhere else here.

Liira turned into the first and only room that was at the top of the tower. It was also the only one with the door intact. She stuck the handle of the broom into the doorway and used it as a crowbar, prying the door open. Instead of it opening, however, the door fell to the ground with a thud. Close enough.

The green girl placed her broom near the doorway and walked into the room. She was glad to see at least a little bit of organization; the room didn't seem to be torn apart at all if you ignored the several books and papers littering the floor. There was an unmade bed in the right-hand corner of the room with a desk right beside it. A bookshelf loaded with tomes stood on the left wall. On the desk was a type of notebook, a pen resting beside it.

She went toward the desk, curious as to what the Witch could have possibly written. Liira looked at the long, slanted words and saw that there were no spells, no equations for formulas for the latest potion… in fact there was nothing about magic at all. It was a simple notebook, simple words (though the vocabulary was quite extensive)…. A diary, Liira thought with a small gasp. What would the Wicked Witch be doing with a diary of all things?

Liira sat down at the desk and began to read. She figured it was safe enough—the castle was completely and permanently abandoned. The green girl read the first few lines, completely enraptured with the things that just flowed from pen to paper. The same name appeared several times. The name Glinda was circled, underlined, crossed out, and even surrounded by stars. Unfortunately, this was all brought to an end when she felt a hand grasp her shoulder and spin her around, forcing her to look into burning brown eyes.