Title: Dead End
Author: Aerohead
Email: in my profile
Website: In my profile
Pairing: Fiyero/Elphaba, Fiyero/Glinda, Glinda/OC
Rating: T
Disclaimer/Dedication: For L. Frank Baum, Gregory Maguire, Stephen Schwartz, and Winnie Holtzman who own this idea that I'm extending. Thank you for giving me the first part.
Warning: spoiler for the ending of the musical Wicked, but that's pretty much about it.
Genre: General, romance (book/play amalgamation)
Summary: AU (during One if By Land time-period) what would happen if Glinda's daughter met Elphaba's under very precarious circumstances.
Author's Notes: Another lovely installment of Dead End. I know, you were all salivating, waiting for this, I'm sure. Anyway, this chapter is the one that strays the story big-time away from any of the One if by Land trilogy, and thusly defines this as an Alternate Universe story, so be prepared, and has characters never used in One if by Land, so I'm forewarning you now…obviously, as forewarning you later would be an oxymoron.
Chapter Four: Destiny Beckoned
Nissa paced around her room, still livid. Dinner had ended hours ago, and by the moon it was nearly midnight. Nissa, however, still wanted to give Destin a piece of her mind. Their visitors, no matter how…unique they were, were still guests, and Glinda wanted them comfortable, not mauled and scared away.
She was pacing back and forth so fast that she didn't hear anything out of the ordinary until she heard someone sniff in the hallway. She moved away from the light of her open door, and peered at it apprehensively. If it was Destin, she was going to give him a very large piece of her mind. But instead of a figure stopping in front of her door, a shadow passed it. She was quiet and still, straining to hear. Soon, she heard the tell-tale squeak of the stairs to know that someone was sneaking out of the palace. Curious by this reversal, Nissa grabbed a pair of walking slippers and a long, silk housecoat.
She pushed her feet into the slippers quickly, while wrapping the coat around her. She poked her head out of the door to make sure no one else was in the hallway, before following quickly. She skipped the steps she knew made noise in order to keep up with the tall figure she was following. Waiting until the door was nearly closed; she scrambled off the steps and followed at a safe distance.
For all of her life that she could remember, Nissa had lived in the Emerald City. As the daughter of Glinda the Good, however, she had been exceedingly sheltered, and had never gone out side after dark, especially unaccompanied. Nervously, she looked around, skirting around moving pieces of garbage and a particularly nasty beggar with a missing eye and finger.
The figure was cutting through an alley. Nissa followed, trying to regain her bearings without light. They seemed to be heading towards an old mautary, one that hadn't been used since the middle of the Age of Wonder. She remembered seeing it once; a twin Unionist rectory for Saints Aelphaba and Glinda. The chapel for Saint Glinda was used once a year, at the end of the Celebration Month, but the chapel for Saint Aelphaba had fallen into disrepair.
The figure, however, didn't seem to notice the chapel for Saint Glinda, and instead made a bee-line for the chapel of Saint Aelphaba. Nissa followed as close as she dared, and once they both reached the entrance, Nissa hid behind a large statue of Saint Aelphaba emerging from the waterfall.
"My little party's just beginning!" Fabala announced, with more bravado than Nissa had seen so far. A multitude of matches were lit, and torches were hung near a large statue of Saint Aelphaba. A handmade, pointed, black hat had been jauntily placed on its head by an old woman who smiled fondly at Fabala. She was accompanied by a tall man close to Lord Bromley's age, with dark circles under his equally dark eyes and a pretty younger woman in a novice's attire.
The man and Fabala hugged, and she seemed sincerely glad to see him, before pulling back to stare at the novice. "I hope I'm not intruding, but I was told about you and your family many times, and I wished to meet you; you're the only one I can meet of my uncle's acquaintances." She said, putting out a hand. "I'm very glad to meet you, Miss Fabala; I'm Sister Saint Janoah."
Fabala looked at the man with interest. "You're niece is a maunt?" she asked.
"Well, in training." The man replied.
Fabala seemed confused. "But aren't you an only child?" she asked. The man looked at the lighter-haired young woman, before looking back at the man, looking rather chastised.
The older girl smiled, however. "Oh, don't worry. He's the closest thing I have to my real uncle, and he spoils me wonderfully." She promised.
The old woman clucked disapprovingly, before turning to Fabala. "How's your mother, dear?"
Fabala sat down on a dirty bench. Nissa knelt down as much as she dared on the dirty, possibly rat-infested floor, and watched curiously. She suddenly saw Fabala do something she never expected; she cried. The woman sighed and pulled the tall girl close, pulling out a handkerchief. She dabbed Fabala's face with it. "There now, dear; it will all turn out for the best. The Unnamed One has its way, and you must adhere, whether you believe in it or not." Fabala let out a small sob and the woman tisked again. "Now, we mustn't ruin that beautiful face of yours, must we. Look, you've already burnt your hand."
The man and Sister Saint Janoah watched passively as the old woman calmed down Fabala. Finally, the man spoke. "But, Glinda will help, won't she?"
Fabala swallowed loudly. "I don't know anymore. I have to find stolen artifacts before the week is up, and I don't know where to begin. If I can't find them, they won't help, and I can't think of anyone else…mother…well, father trusts Glinda, though he's at the edge of his string as well." The man let out a muffled laugh at that.
"He's become softer in his old age." He said. "Though he's naturally rather soft now, isn't he?"
"Oh, you're one to talk!" The old woman said. The man went pink. "Have you talked with Glinda's daughter?" she asked.
Fabala shook her head. "I haven't had time to, privately. I don't want to upset anyone else in that household."
The man sighed. "Wouldn't you rather stay with me? That apartment's been rather empty for the past seventeen years, and you are more than welcome to stay."
Fabala seemed to laugh at that. "I have Aran, and your apartment, no matter how extravagant, couldn't hold us both." She said.
"Ah, yes, the young princess' knight in shining armor!" Sister Saint Janoah said, mystified. Nissa's eyebrows rose in confusion.
"We're childhood friends." Fabala said flatly.
The man laughed. "Yes, and, as my father always told me, I'm just going through a phase. It just happens to be a very long one." He smiled brightly. "Well, if you'd like, I can ask around the costume and dressing rooms in the theatres and see if anyone knows about stolen artifacts, if you'd like."
Fabala stood. "Thank you; it's getting late." Once they all turned, Nissa slipped out of the sanctuary, getting a chill. She knew the man; not by name, of course, but because he visited her mother occasionally. They had been school friends, and he had been around while Nissa was younger, and Lord Bromley wasn't there.
She walked slowly down the street, holding her coat close to her. She turned a corner, and walked into the man missing an eye and finger. He smiled at her, showing that he was missing many teeth as well.
"Well, hello there little missy." He said, wheezing. He grabbed her arm, pulling her closer to him. "An old man like me doesn't get much company down here; would you like to be my company tonight?" he asked, hissing out a lecherous laugh.
Nissa started to panic. She tried to pull out of his grasp, but he was stronger than she was. "Please, leave me alone." She begged.
"Now, why would I do that?" he leered toward her, and she tried to scream, but her voice caught in her throat.
"Do you know whom you've got your greasy, disgusting Munchkin hands on?" asked a dark voice from the shadows.
The man glared over Nissa's arm. She tried to turn, but he yanked her around again. "Who's you to stop me?" he growled.
"Let go of Miss Upland, under penalty of death, sir." Fabala grabbed the man's arm and yanked it off of Nissa. She twisted it and came close to the man's face, matching his growl. "Stay away from Glinda the Good's family or I will come after you." The man pulled away from Fabala and ran into the darkness. Fabala turned on Nissa. Nissa shied away from her; her dark face, stained red from her tears, was fierce. "You followed me." She said bluntly.
"I thought you were Destin, and I couldn't find my way home." Nissa said. It wasn't an exact lie; she had no idea how to get back to the Palace. She could see it, but couldn't get to it.
Fabala looked the small blonde up and down, before turning around. "Fine; follow me, and let this be the last time you do so." She said. She suddenly sounded weary. Nissa wanted to ask what they had to talk about together, but with the quick mood changes Fabala seemed to be going through, she really didn't have the nerve to.
They reached the Palace, and Fabala escorted Nissa to her bedroom. "Now, be a good little Emerald Citizen and don't leave your room until breakfast tomorrow morning." She started away, then turned around. "You do eat breakfast here, right? It's not some Northern tradition to only have one rather large meal a day I hope."
Nissa shook her head, not hearing the sarcasm in Fabala's voice. "We have three meals a day, and you must come eat if you're in the Palace, whether you wish to or not."
Fabala nodded. "Well then, I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast, and not a moment earlier." She stressed the end of the sentence, before stalking up the steps. Nissa slipped off her slippers and took off her coat. She hung the silk garment on a chair, before lying down in her bed, contemplating what she had seen. The comments, the asides, and the friendliness between those three and Fabala seemed so unlike anything Nissa had ever seen before. She decided that she would ask Ozma in the morning. She closed her eyes and drifted into a fitful sleep, dreaming of a far-off tower where a cloaked woman sat shaking on a cot, with Saint Aelphaba standing above her.