For disclaimer and other stuff, see part 1 and thank you for the reviews to greengirl16 and Juelz Rox. isn't working properly, I am not receiving any pm's or alerts, so if someone tried to pm me, I never received anything and I ask you to try again.
Laird is Scottish, meaning wealthy landowner. Betrys is Welsh, meaning bringer of joy. Taye is African and means "he has been seen". It's also Idina Menzel's husband's name.
Chapter 13
On the eve of the opening of the festival season in the Vinkus, Arwen stood next to her grandparents. She was nervous.
Arwen already knew that they would be presenting her as the crown princess. Important people were at the festival, even her Aunt Glinda as the ruler of the Emerald City and Oz. But Arwen hadn't had the chance to talk to her aunt before this evening. She would maybe be able to do so later. Right now she watched as her grandfather stepped forward.
"My wife, Queen Liora, and myself are very happy about our next announcment. All these years we have mourned for our son, we didn't even have a body to bury. But now, many years later, we have learned that our son fathered a child before he died. I am proud to present you, Arwen Tiggular, daughter of Fiyero Tiggular and Elphaba Thropp, the Third Descending of Munchkinland, our crown princess and future Queen of the Vinkus."
Arwen looked at her grandfather in shock. She hadn't known that he would introduce her by telling the crowd the names of her parents, especially her mother's name. She could only hope that people had forgotten that the Wicked Witch of the West once had had a name, an identity.
As the crowd started to walk towards her, Arwen had to fight all the different emotions – fear, anger, sadness, joy. What would happen to her if the found out that she was the daughter of the Wicked Witch of the West, the child of the wicked? Would she be burnt on the stake? Thrown into prison? Arwen already saw various scenarios play infront of her inner eye.
"Hello Just Arwen," she heard a voice say to her and as she looked for the source of the voice, she saw Taye, the annoying young man from her train-ride. "Let me introduce myself properly, princess. I am Taye Notaro, son of Laird Notaro, Duke of Gilikin."
Princess! She was officially a princess now. She had been one since the moment she was born but now hearing people refer to her as Princess Arwen was something totally different.
"It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Likewise," Taye answered and kissed her hand.
And there was this feeling again. The same she had had on the train when he had touched her. Was it fate's way to tell her something? Like it had been fate that she had discovered that she had her mother's talent?
Out of instinct she pulled her hand away as if his kiss had burnt her.
"Don't do it again," she hissed.
"Sorry," he responded and then, out of nowhere, it came. "Would you like to dance?"
Arwen was taken slightly off guard by his question, and even more so when he smiled and stuck his hand out for her to take. In that moment she was beautiful and she felt it too.
She was in a dream. He led her out to the dance floor and took her small hand in his larger one as he placed a hand on her waist. His hand seemed so big to her. As they swayed back and forth on the dance floor they Arwen felt so happy, so content.
Arwen knew that she was acting bipolar. One moment she craved his touch and the next she felt repulsive. She had never been touched, not like this. Back at Shiz she had buried herself in her studies, needing to prove that despite being an orphan she could achieve anything she wanted. Then later, after she learned the identities of her parents, she was afraid that others would think less of her. She was the daughter of the Wicked Witch of the West. The title had brought pain and destruction into the life of her mother. She was afraid that she and people she loved would suffer the same fate.
Arwen had already discovered that she was a witch too. Maybe from the day she was born she had been doomed to be the next Wicked Witch of the West.
As she realized the impact of her thought Arwen felt tears pooling in her eyes. Taye saw them. He had seen the emotions flickering through her eyes.
"Everything all right?" he asked concerned.
He had seen her black out once, on the train. Taye was afraid that something like that would happen again, that she would faint again.
Arwen shook her head. She didn't know what else to do. She knew that people wanted her to play the happy role of the crown princess. Part of her longed for such happiness. But still, she missed her parents.
"Let's get some fresh air," Taye suggested and let her outside on a balcony.
His parents, Laird and Betrys Notaro, Arwen's grandparents, King Sahar and Queen Liora, and her aunt Glinda were watching the young couple leave.
"They remind me of her parents," Glinda said and sighed.
"You knew them?" Betrys Notaro asked curious.
"Elphie was my best friend."
Glinda smiled. If they only knew. Glinda the Good and the Wicked Witch of the West, best friends, what would they think of her? Glinda hated that she couldn't tell people the truth about the Wicked Witch but she had promised Elphaba not to try and clear her name. Glinda would stay true to her promise.
Outside, on the balcony, Arwen leaned against the balustrade, trying to fight a memory that was about to take over her mind again. She couldn't control the memories. They always appeared out of nowhere, like right now.
She was excited and nervous. Today she would finally start at Shiz. Elphaba finally had the chance to visit a normal school. Back in Munchkinland, after a disaster at school that hadn't really been her fault, she was home-schooled together with her sister Nessarose.
Elphaba tried to make herself believe that her father didn't send her to Shiz only to have her play the servant to her little sister. She tried to imagine that he had sent her to Shiz so she could learn all the things she had always wished to know. But in reality Elphaba knew that it only was wishful thinking. If Nessarose weren't alive, she would never ever be allowed to attend Shiz.
And as always, the students were staring at her. She was used to it.
"What?! What are you looking at? Oh, do I have something in my teeth? Okay, let's get this over with. No, I'm not seasick. Yes, I've always been green. No, I didn't chew grass as a child."
"Elphaba!" she heard her father call out in a stern voice.
"Oh, this is my younger sister, Nessarose. As you can see, she is a perfectly normal color," Elphaba continued, needing to point out that the rest of her family was normal, whatever normal meant.
"Elphaba, stop making a spectacle of yourself! I'm only sending you here for one reason..."
"Yes, I know, to look after Nessarose," she sighed.
"My precious little girl, a parting gift," she heard her father say.
He had gotten Nessa another parting gift. He had already given her a necklace that had belonged to their mother. Elphaba had only a small glass bottle as a reminder of her dead mother while Nessa got all the big presents. Not that she would have cared for something big or fancy, but a new book or book bag would have been nice.
"Now, father... jeweled shoes!" Nessa squealed in delight.
"As befits the future governor of Munchkinland. Elphaba, take care of your sister. And try not to talk so much!" And with that, he left his children at Shiz.
"Elphaba..." Nessa started, but she was unsure of how to continue.
"Well what could he have gotten me? I clash with everything!"
"Arwen!"
Taye's voice brought her out of her memory. Arwen blinked back the tears that had gathered in her eyes. All the memories she now had were powerful and sad memories. Sometimes she woke up drenched in sweat. Twice she had screamed bloody murder in her sleep and had woken up the entire castle with her screams.
"What's wrong?" he asked concerned.
"Nothing, everything," was her cryptic reply.
"We all have are secrets, Arwen. Some are meant to be kept and sometimes they're meant to be told to the people you trust most in the world," Taye told her.
"You want to know my secrets?"
"Tell me what is bothering you."
Arwen shook her head. No, she couldn't tell him. Why was he even interested in her problems?
He was a dreamer, someone who was dancing through life. He didn't care for her. He couldn't.