Chapter 1 Prologue
AN : Shout out to LittleMissDelirious, AngelaIsAwesome and MyLittleElphie for nudging and encouraging me to continue to write at the times when I wanted to give up (which is often). And thank you MyLittleElphie for beta-ing this chapter way back in 2017 (I actually started this in 2016. How time flies!). Any remaining mistake is mine.
I had wanted to post chapter 1 (prologue) and 2 together, but the weekend is ending and I still have work to do and a mountain of clothes to iron. Updates for this fic will not be regular; I'm really struggling to find free time nowadays (those who know me IRL will know the stuff that I'm juggling with now).
A forewarning. This is not a happy story (it ain't angst yet though). But this miserable plot bunny just refused to let go until I wrote it.
Summer.
Melena sat on a chair on what could pass for a verandah. Next to her was a small table, carried over by one of the boys from the village who occasionally helped Nanny around the house, and the old woman had placed a tea pot and a cup on the table. Melena poured herself a fresh cup of tea – milk flower tea to be exact – and she grimaced as she took a sip. It did not exactly taste terrible, but after drinking the same thing for the past seven months she would give anything, well, almost anything, to drink something else. Even if it was something as simple as cool, refreshing plain water.
But Frex had insisted. He had bought the milk flowers from a herbalist that he had met in Quadling Country and had sworn that it would work.
"How do you know that it will work?" she had questioned him. Her husband just shrugged. "Well, she was the best according to all the Quadlings whom I had spoken to. It's worth a try. I am sure you don't want another one like her - ," he had cast a glance at his first born before turning away almost immediately, as though he could not bear to look at her for more than a second. "Do you?"
And Melena could only nod her head mutely. Surprisingly, even Nanny, who would usually disagree with Frex on most things, and who loved her firstborn to bits, took over the packages without a word and brewed the tea for Melena every day without fail.
A distance away, under a red sandalwood tree by the pond, a little girl played by herself. Under the shade of the tree, she seemed almost normal. She was, perhaps, a little bit too skinny for a child of her age. Her hair was, perhaps, of a shade so black, it seemed that it swallowed the light. And if one looked carefully, one might notice that the girl's skin seemed to reflect the green of the leaves and the grass. That was, until she moved out of the shade and one realized that it was not a reflection, but rather, her skin itself was green, a shade that was could almost be described as emerald.
"Fabala, Elphaba, don't go too near to the water," Melena shouted. Her daughter turned and looked at her wordlessly, before moving back to the tree as she squint her eyes and continued her search for the bright red seeds under the tree.
Melena leaned back with a sigh. She loved her daughter, but the summer heat and the advanced pregnancy had made her lazier than ever. When she was not pregnant, she would be next to her little frog under the tree, searching for the seeds, or running around the grass playing catching or other childish games. She stretched her legs, trying to lift them up so that she could see her toes, to no avail. She placed her hands fondly on her growing belly. A son for Frex. She imagined her son growing up, a splitting image of his father, and joining his father on his travels. No, she wanted her son to stay with her, to keep her company and to keep his elder sister company. To be a helping hand around the house, to do the chores that should have been done by the man of the house if only he was at home more often.
Melena smiled to herself and closed her eyes momentarily, and therefore she did not realise it when Elphaba got bored with collecting the seeds and was drawn to the water again.
The girl stood at the edge of the pond, her toes nearly touching the water. Near, but not touching. Her skirt was bunched up together, forming a basket of sorts, and inside were the seeds from the red sandalwood tree. The water was calm, and she could see her reflection in the water. She picked a seed from her collection and dropped into the water, watching as the ripples distorted her reflection. She found it funny and giggled as she dropped another seed into the water, followed by another, always dropping the next seed into the water before the surface of the water was calm again.
She did that until she ran out of seeds, and as the water stilled again, she saw the reflection of an old woman close behind her. The little girl stood up too fast, and she lost her balance, flapping her arms wildly as she tried to regain her balance. She overcompensated and fell forward, but instead of falling into the water, she suddenly found herself sprawling on cold white, a thin piece of ice that had appeared out of nowhere. Her movement jolted the frozen piece, and it slowly drifted out towards the middle of the pond, with her on it.
The girl scrambled to her hands and knees and tried to turn around. She opened her mouth, wanting to call for her mother but the words were stuck in her throat. The old woman stood at the edge of the pond, motionless. Even in her panic state Fabala noticed everything about her. Her white hair, stringy and greasy. Her face was dried and wrinkled, and there was a birth mark covering half of her face. The clothes on her were well-worn, tied at the waist with a raffia string, and frayed at the hems and mended in far too many places. She wore a pair of pants that was too short for her, exposing her scrawny, veiny legs. She had on her feet, a pair of old, flat shoes with a hole at the front, showing part of a toe with its dirty, chipped nail. The shoes were dirty, scuffed and had a shade of grey that had accumulated due to the lack of care and constant wear and nothing to do with its original colour. And even from afar, Fabala was able to see that her eyes were a shade of light grey, cloudy.
The old woman smiled at her, showing a few yellowed teeth that turned her smile creepy. She curled her fingers inward, beckoning to her, and the little girl found the patch of ice drifting back to the shore as if magicked, towards the old woman.
The girl finally found her voice.
"Mommy!"
Melena snapped out of her daydream. For a moment she wondered who was calling her, until she saw her daughter in the middle of the pond, supported by what looked like a piece of ice that was looking thinner by the second. Elphaba's limbs were stiff and Melena could see the panic in her eyes even from a distance. At the edge of the pond was an old woman, her back to Melena.
"Nanny!" Melena shouted into the house as she quickly lifted herself out of the chair and ran down the slope, her hands supporting her belly.
By the time Melena reached the shore, the old woman had somehow lifted Elphaba out of the water. The icy platform had melted under the hot sun, leaving just a few small pieces bobbing on the water.
"Hi dearie," the old woman said as she lifted Elphaba's chin with one hand while the other hand stroked the raven black hair.
Melena pulled her daughter away from the old woman.
"Stay away from my daughter, you witch!" she snarled as she possessively crushed Elphaba to her.
The old woman cackled. "Now who's calling who a witch? If there is a witch here, it is definitely not old Yackle.". She chuckled, her boney shoulders moving up and down asynchronously. "Now Melena, you should know better than to judge a person by the looks. Old Yackle means no harm."
Melena took a step back.
"Who are you? How do you know my name?"
"Yackle knows everything. Yackle knows the past and the future. Yackle knows about him." She gave Elphaba a knowing look, and Melena's hand went to her mouth. Sweet Lurline, no one was supposed to know. Not even Nanny, though the old woman had definitely suspected something.
"What… what do you want?"
"Yackle is here to tell you your future."
"I'm not interested in fortune telling," Melena told Yackle.
"It is not fortune telling, dearie. It is the future. Your future, and the future of your daughters." The old woman pointed a croaked finger at her stomach.
Melena's hand went to her stomach protectively. "No, this is a son. I am carrying a boy."
Yackle clucked. "Now who told you that the baby is a boy. It is a girl. A beautiful baby girl. She is an exact image of you, the same dark brown hair and flawless fair skin."
Melena paused. The baby might be a girl, but she would not have the same skin color as her sister.
"And their futures?" she whispered, hoping that it would be another piece of good news.
The old woman shook her head slowly, as if knowing what Melena was hoping for.
She told her.
"No!" Melena screamed as she pressed her hands against Elphaba's ears and staggered backward, away from the old woman. "No, no, no, no, no. You're lying." Melena kept shouting, a useless talisman against the old woman who was matching her steps one by one, approaching as she was retreating, her mouth continued to move. Yackle was here to deliver a message and delivered a message she did.
By the time Nanny reached the mother and child, Melena was a nervous wreck of sobs and shivers. She clutched her daughter close to her as she kept shaking her head and mumbling the same word over and over again.
"No no no no no no no…"
"What are you mumbling?" Nanny asked, shaking the younger woman's shoulders gently.
Melena looked up, and she pointed her finger in front of her. "The witch said that my daughter will kill me…"
"What witch?"
Melena looked in front of her. There was no old woman standing in front of her. She turned her head around frantically. There was not a sight of the wrinkled face and white hair as far as she could see.
"She was here!" she exclaimed. "She tried to drown Fabala and she said that I will die…."
"What witch?" Nanny asked again. "The heat must have gotten into you. Come into the house and I will add some ice to your tea." She tried to pull the pregnant woman towards the general direction of the house.
Melena looked at her daughter who was still clinging to her.
"Where is she, Fabala? Where is that old witch?"
Her daughter looked at her. "She disappeared, Mommy. She just disappeared."