Authors Note: so, FanFiction doesn't like me. I can't put a title in the center of the page, which I really, really hate and I don't know a why I lost that ability. One day I just updated the app on my phone and all of the tools were magically gone. So if someone knows how to help me then PLEASE REACH OUT. I will love you forever if you do.
Until then, or probably forever, please forgive the titles that are positioned on the left side of the page. I hate them too, but what can you do?
Prologue
But what if what we thought we knew was really nothing like what we knew at all? What if every truth we were told was really a lie? What if the good was really the bad and the dark was really the light? What if the brave was really the coward and the fearful was really the fearless? What if the stupid was really the smart and the intelligent was really the fool? What if the wealthy was really the poor and the destitute was really the rich?
What if I went? What if he stayed? What if she lived? the pretty blonde thought miserably. What if what if what if. One could drown and die in regrets and still choke for eternity.
"Galinda! Exactly how dead is she?"
Glinda the Good looked down at the Ozians. Oh, how she loathed these small minded, simple people. But oh, how she loved them! She loved how they loved her, how they fell upon her and fawned over her and hung on her every word. She adored their adoration of her, their infatuation of her, their devotion and obsession and fixation and attentiveness and attention and —
The woman, a perfect image of goodliness, smiled brilliantly and urged her bubble to drift closer to the crowd. Her tall wand sat commandingly in her hand and her elegant crown glistened upon her perfect hair and her poufy dress moved like a dream around her ankles. Nothing had ever felt so restricting before.
"Glinda, why does wickedness happen?"
She was like a mother to these lost little hens, a caretaker to these wandering souls, a nanny to these crying children. She was their shoulder to cry on, their hand to hold, their smile to look to. She was their muse, their sun, their guiding star, their friend.
Who would she be if she wasn't theirs? What would she be if she unraveled herself from all this fanciness and politeness and goodness? Would her soul be as clean as everyone thought it was if it was laid bare before their feet, or would it be perhaps a little tintified and smudged?
"Glinda, is it true you were her friend?"
The woman froze. Her mouth went dry.
She was her friend once, wasn't she? Wasn't she?
What's in a friend? Is it what we say to one another or what we do, or is it all the unspoken things that will never be proclaimed to the face? What determines a friendship? What renders a friendship? What destroys a friendship? Sure, it takes one person's action to fracture it, but both parties must deem it broken beyond repair.
Could they see the dried tears on her face? The redness of her eyes? The swollenness of her nose?
She would have noticed in an instant.
NOW! NOW! SPEAK UP DAMNIT! her mind cried.
She would have screamed it to the stars.
In the distance the Wizard's balloon hovered gaily, a brilliant green blotch against the slanted weeping sky. The whole world could collapse, folding in on her and everyone right there and then, and she wouldn't have cared in the slightest. No. Glinda the Good wouldn't have cared in the slightest.
Are people more good than wicked, or is it the other way around? People are born with the capability of being both, but surly they must have a preference, even if they don't know it themselves. Which was she? Sometimes good people do really bad things. Was that her? Perhaps Glinda was the wickedest of them all.
She would know what was right and what was wrong.
Glinda inhale deeply and closed her eyes. She took half a second to compose herself, and then she was ready. I'm sorry, forgive me, I'm so sorry, the blonde thought as she smiled so wide her cheeks hurt.
"Well, you see..."
.
.
.
Part One — Elphaba
"Your Mama doesn't like you, no she doesn't, I know it to be true."
"She loves me!" Elphaba protested.
She winced when Frell's fist made contact with her cheek but refused to cry out. There was no use. His friends made sure the adults were busy with raising the barn in the front when he dragged her to the pond in back where they couldn't be seen or heard, and who would come to the rescue of a poor creature such as Elphaba?
"Says who?" he hooted, pushing her roughly.
He stood over her — for he had knocked her to the ground — and he looked like a wild little imp from the story tales. Frell was a mean boy with blonde hair and beady narrow eyes like a rat. He was a Munchkinlander by association, but he was of regular size, like her, which meant that he was a good deal taller and stronger.
"Says who Greenie?" His boot met her ribs as he kicked her in the side.
Elphaba grunted and wiggled onto her back. She glared up at him. "My Mama! She's who! Stop!"
Frell laughed harshly and kicked her again. "Mama's have to love their children, that's the rules, but yours don't have to go loving you none!"
Elphaba flung her arms over her face as he began to deliver blow after blow upon the small child. Pain blossomed all along her body. A sob bubbled up in her throat and this time she couldn't hold it in.
"Did the froggy whimper?" Frell shrieked. "Oh, lets here it again! Come on now! Scream!"
"S-stop!" Elphaba sobbed. He struck her across the face, and she tasted blood. Her lip was split.
"Oooh, she's bleeding, does she bleed green too?" a voice said from somewhere. It was one of Frell's lackies, no doubt, but she couldn't see their face.
"Make her bleed some more, I wanna see."
"Me too!"
Frell did as they wished, delivering a nasty kick to her head, and Elphaba felt her world tilt.
"Maybe… you stop… she crying badly now…"
"She's fine, Boq. She's just dramatic."
"My Papa says those with the skin of the sinners can't feel pain."
"Ooh, it is red!"
"That's a lotta red."
"Maybe... stop?"
"Shit Frell, that's a lot of blood. Don't kill her, mate."
"Look, now she's getting up."
"See? What'd I say? She's fine!"
"What is she doing—"
The group of children that had gathered around the green girl stumbled back in horror as she opened her mouth. What came out was a dark funnel of smoke that was practically alive, hissing and spitting in the warm, summer air. They all ran in terror — all but one. Frell stood paralyzed as the smoke furled around him, blinding him, crushing him, choking him. Horror was written on his face, but he couldn't move his lips or arms or legs or anything of the sort. He could only blink.
The adults found the two children by the lake. The boy was standing, rooted in fear, and the girl was on her hands and knees, clutching her head. Frell's father ran to his son and shook him by the shoulders. Elphaba's mother went to her daughter's side, dulling noticing the bruises and blood.
"Frell? Frell? What's wrong?!" The boy could only flutter his eyelids.
"Elphaba?" Hesitantly, Melena reached out to touch her daughter's shoulder. "Elphaba, breathe." Elphaba stiffened at the contact but slowly exhaled when she saw who it was.
Frell, as if a spell had been lifted, doubled forward. He coughed thickly and collapsed into his father's embrace.
"S-s-she!" he stuttered, pointing at Elphaba.
His fathered drew him in close and turned to Melena. "Explain this."
"Me? You explain this! Look at the blood!" Melena snapped, gesturing to the blood that dripped freely from Elphaba's nose and pooled on the ground.
"Your daughter attacked my son!"
"Your son attacked Elphaba! She is half his size and half his age! She couldn't throw a good punch at him even if she knew how. This is enough explanation!" Melena cried, pointing to Elphaba's face that was blotchy and swollen and then to Frell's bloody fists.
"Witch," Frell hissed from his father's arms.
Melena stiffened. "We are a holy family, devoted unconditionally to the Unnamed God. You would do well to curb the tongue of your boy before he goes spewing accusations he can't unsay and delivering strikes he can't take back. The Unnamed God doesn't take lightly to falsehoods and violence."
The man darkened, seething. "My son was standing rooted to the spot, straight as a rod not a moment ago, and you don't think it was unnatural?!"
"I don't know the naturalness of your son's behavior," Melena snapped. "Is it natural of him to go around beating up little girls? Is it natural of him to accuse innocents of wickedness?"
"That isn't a girl. That's a monster," the boy spat.
Elphaba felt her eyes fill with tears. She wanted her mama to just take her away and wrap her up in her embrace. She wanted to sit by the window and drink ginger root tea and burn all the green from her flesh.
Melena sent Frell and his father a withering look. "Ask the other children and let them tell you what they saw. The truth shall set us free."
The other children, who had went and gotten the adults when it appeared their friend was in grave danger of being killed by magic smoke, were brought forth and questioned. Not a single one of them admitted to seeing anything but Frell attacking Elphaba in the far, far off, extremely blurry and horribly hazy distance. They knew they would be punished for torment but they feared what they had seen even more. They didn't want to be the next to encounter Elphaba's wrath.
"Shame on you and shame on your son!" Melena said when all was put in order.
"I - I — " the man stuttered. It was clear he wasn't pleased with the confessions, but he couldn't go and accuse other people's children of dishonesty without angering the whole town.
"She's a witch, Father! I know she is! Just look at her! Look at that skin!" Frell shouted.
Melena gathered her shall and sunhat and looked down at Elphaba. "We're leaving."
Elphaba stared up into Melena's face, but she couldn't tell what she was thinking. All emotion seemed to run from the woman. Slowly, the girl pushed herself up onto trembling legs and the two began to walk home.
The walk was long and silent and by the time they reached their destination, Elphaba was limping badly and Melena was breathing heavily. Melena brought the girl to the stream outside and kneeling, began to wash her cuts. Elphaba watched as little red ribbons of blood slithered away downstream in the twilight light. Her face began to throb even more so and her mother told her it was badly swollen.
When the little girl was good and clean she was told her to wait by the table for her father to arrive. Elphaba practically ran to the ugly little stool. She was happy to sit in silence and solitude — it by far trumped the company of the other children who only taunted and stared. Here, she could go on pretending she was someone different in peace and she wouldn't be bothered for a good long while.
The shadows had grown long and the stars had grown bolder when Frexpar finally showed. Upon his arrival he greeted his wife with a kiss and Elphaba with a curt nod before lumbering his way to the fire. His figure was an impressive one, made out of sharp, unfriendly angles and long, flowing robes.
"Elphaba had a run in today," Melena said tightly. The crackling of the flames and the smell of smoke made Elphaba want to tear out her throat and nose.
Frexpar stretched his hands over the flames and sighed. While the days were filled with stifling heat, the night winds always brought a nip with them.
"Oh?"
"You remember the smith's boy? Frell? Ugly little rat like thing and mean, just like his father. Well, he and Elphaba got in a fight during the barn raising today. I had to do a nasty bit of clean up."
"Who started it?" Frex drawled. He was clearly bored and wished to be left undisturbed.
"I don't know! I wasn't there till the end — I didn't see anything. But when I got there the boy was standing all funny like and he couldn't move or talk it seemed and Elphaba was on the ground and..." Melena licked her ruby lips. "I think... I think she might've spelled him in some way."
This got his attention. Frexpar stiffened and turned to her sharply. "You what?" He sent a glare at Elphaba, who huddled on her stool.
"Magic, Frex, I think the girl has magic. I... I can't explain what I saw... I only that I was lucky to have played it off as well as I did."
"He started it," Elphaba said softly from her corner.
She wanted her mama to know the truth, but when her parents didn't respond, didn't even look her way, the little girl realized they did not care. Neither one cared about the truth so long as the story was painted to their advantage. Melena had defended her today because she rather have a daughter who was a beaten, bloody mess then have a daughter who was a witch.
Maybe Frell was right all along. Her mother never showered her with affection like she saw the other mamas do, but she never really hated her… or at least, that was what Elphaba believed. She knew parents loved their children, but it never occurred to her that her's didn't.
"Who else saw this?" Frex demanded.
"Only the boy's father, but he was easy to manage."
And the children, Elphaba thought.
Frex shook his head angrily. "Don't be so quick to underestimate fear and speculation. It's bad enough as it is that she's green. But magic? It'll send them all in an uproar. Imagine the scandal for the family name!"
He declared he would take to the outdoors to pray for guidance and to not wait up for him, for he would be spending the night outside to be closer to the Unnamed God. Melena huffed at his retreating form and stomped her way to the bedroom.
"Mama," Elphaba said later that night when the moon was high and swollen. Frex hadn't come back in in hours (she could see him chanting on his knees from the window) and Melena lounged in her bed, half dressed and completely intoxicated. She shakily moved her head to Elphaba's voice.
"Y-yes?" she hiccupped.
Elphaba played with her night gown. She hadn't slept a wink. "Why I green?"
Melena blinked a couple times, as if processing her words. After a good long minute, she threw her head back prettily and laughed. It was a harsh sound, like sand grinding beneath your heel, and it had no business belonging to such a lovely young woman.
"I h-have no fucking idea!" she cackled. She clutched her sides and doubled over and laughed until tears sprung from her eyes and her stomach ached.
"Your f-f-father asked the v-very s-same question when you sprang f-from my stomach, as did the m-m-midwife and the nanny and e-every other f-fucking person you meet, a-a-and I had t-the same answer for them all! I have n-n-no idea!What a question! W-what an answer! And n-now you seem to b-b-be a witch as well! A green witch! Who would've t-thought? Me! Haha!"
Her head slumped forward as if a string that had been holding it upright had been snipped.
"Ma—"
Melena made a shushing noise and rubbed her temples. "G-go get me that blanket, I'm cold. No, not that one, no, no, what are you, b-blind? Wouldn't that be g-grand, a green girl w-who couldn't see green? Hahaha! No, n – yes, that o-o-one, y-yes bring it here."
"Mama," Elphaba said quietly as she draped the blanket over Melena's bare chest. The woman unsteadily grabbed for another bottle that sat on her nightstand. She sighed when her fingers found purchase, and quickly downed the contents.
Elphaba rubbed her eyes, forgetting her face was bruised for a moment, and whimpered when her knuckles brushed against her bruises. "Mama —"
"What?" Melena snapped. "E-either say something or go a-away, stop standing t-there like a tree. I'm s-s-seeing two of everything. I don't need two green girls; one is p-plenty e-enough. Ooh, everything is spinning now." She groaned and collapsed against the pillows.
"Do... do you love me?"
Melena grunted and turned to face her daughter. She looked the girl up and down. "No," she said simply. "I s-swore I would never lie to you Fabala. I w-won't start now."
Elphaba's earliest memories were of Melena telling her she was a wicked little froggy girl for running in the rain and ruining her dress, and that it was no wonder Father didn't like her, for she was no better than the wild heathens in the Winkie country when she behaved like that. She was made to sit on a chair in the corner for hours upon excruciating hours in silence as punishment until her father came home and relieved her of her crime or until her mother took to the bottles and pills in the evenings and forgot all about her green little girl. Yet, Elphaba could also remember a time when she was welcomed into her mama's arms and upon her mama's lap. Her sweet voice would infiltrate Elphaba's senses and send her off into dreams of sunlit fields and sparkling seas.
But… perhaps that was all made up. Perhaps she had it all backwards and upside down. Perhaps that horrible little boy had been right all along.