Chapter Six: The Wicked Witch of the East

Nessarose had learned magic for three reasons. The first was that as someone born with arms, she needed to find an alternative way to move objects. The second was to gain respect and fear from her tiny subjects. The third reason, though she would never admit it, was out of pure unbridled jealousy for her sister, Elphaba.

After the death of her father Frex, Nessarose became the new ruler of Munchkinland. She was not overly cruel, but she never had much of a heart for them. She never listened to their petitions for lower taxes or the right to own property. She just spent her days practicing new spells. Her new favorite was telekinetic juggling.

Three red glass balls tossed rhythmically to form a circle in the air. It almost created the illusion that Nessarose actually had hands. Ever since her coordination, she spent her days strutting from one end of her kingdom to another, magically juggling her balls. She ignored the concerns of her subjects. She ignored the small voice around her insisting that there was more to life than obsessing over one's flaws. Nessarose even ignored her new title: The Wicked Witch of the East.

It was twelve o'clock midnight when Elphaba came to her… the "witching hour," as it were. Nessarose had been fast asleep in her velvet bed, but she awoke with the shifting of the air. She knew who it was even before she opened her eyes.

"What do you want, Elphaba?" she asked.

"I wanted to say goodbye." Elphaba closed the window that she had flown threw and sat down on ruby-incrusted chair facing the bed.

'It's a bit late for that, don't you think?" Nessarose asked haughtily.

"I used to think so too, but I've undergone a change in heart lately." Elphaba waved her hand. The candle on the bedside table lit up.

At once Nessarose hated what she saw: A free-spirited woman whose green skin was more of quirk than a hindrance. After Elphaba had learned to wear her hair down and wear more fitting dresses, she had become something of a bombshell in college. At least, that was how Nessarose had seen her.

Elphaba had never seen herself as beautiful. Cute perhaps, in certain moments, but not beautiful. But she had not been her sister. Nessarose had always obsessed over physical appearance…. infinitely more so than Elphaba. It was not even about being attractive to men. It was about finding something that was proof of self worth. Nessarose hated her plain smooth face, her plain brown hair, her plain deformed figure. On any given day, it was hard to tell who she resented more… Elphaba, or herself. Probably Elphaba, considering that she was the greater witch between the two of them, and not even Elphaba had power enough to give her arms.

"I can't explain it in a way that you would understand, but I need to tell you," Elphaba said.

"Tell me what?"

"I am going to die. Soon. I don't know when. But it will be soon."

Nessarose blinked with sleep. This was not anything surprising to her. Ever since Elphaba had became Oz's most wanted terrorist, she figured it would only be a matter of time before she would be made ripe for burial. The schedule for Elphaba's downfall was probably moved forward, considering her resent failed attempt to take the Emerald City. So all Nessarose did was yawn loudly.

"Is that all you can do?" Elphaba asked. "I know we've never… gotten along…"

Nessarose sorted.

"…But I was hoping you could at least wish me farewell."

"Farewell Elphaba."

"Make sure you aren't seen when you leave. I don't want anyone to think I was harboring you."

Elphaba looked to the window, then back at her sister. "You're probably in danger too, Nessa."

This got her attention. She flung the sweat from her eyes and sat strait up. "How?"

"I don't know. Believe me, I don't. But I've got a feeling."

"Just a feeling?"

"Most of my feelings have been coming true lately. You should leave her soon. Soon, Nessarose!"

Nessarose did not answer. Her face was blank. Elphaba could not tell what her sister was thinking. "I've always cared for you, Nessa. All your life. Always loved you."

Nessarose fought to keep thefire within her hidden. This was the most evil thing Elphaba had ever done. Been strong when she had been weak. Loving when she was hateful. Graceful when she had been twisted. Even as children, Elphaba had always been the greater of the two. Only Elphaba had never known it. But Nessa had.

I'm going to die, Nessa. Can't you at least tell me you love me?"

"I love you."

But Elphaba knew that she had not meant it. So Elphaba reacted the only way she could: With wry wit and grace. It was what childhood taught her and adulthood confirmed. Wry wit and grace!

"Thanks for letting me in your heart one last time." And before Nessarose had the chance to not respond, Elphaba turned into a bolt of green lightning and shot out the window. She did not even bother opening it first. But no glass was shattered. Elphaba had moved through it.

For the next hour Nessarose lay there, not thinking about her sister, but herself. Should she leave her comfortable palace? Where would she go? She had enough money, but not enough intelligence to plan anything. So her thoughts turned once again to cross-examinations and self-loathing.

But the small voice returned to her head. Nessarose, there is more to you than you give yourself credit for. If you let me in, I reveal the aspects of life you keep closed. I will guide you. I will help you. Just let me in! I will save you!

Nessarose clapped her hands and summoned the palace musicians. They played the same tired melody they always did. Nessa hated the music, but it fulfilled its purpose in drowning out the voice.

The musicians played and played. They did not know that they were kept on duty for this exact purpose.