A/N: Another update! Wheeeeeeee.
Disclaimer: Not mine
Fala:
Liir was freaking out and Grandfather wasn't much better. I was frayed down to my last nerve with the pair of them, and it didn't help that my own latent memories were resurfacing.
Mommy bursting in, gathering me up to her. The bruise blooming on her cheek, her bones hard through the fabric of her black shift. Her hair, long, loose, tangled, and a salty tear falling from her face to mine.
Voices. Loud, angry voices. Mommy's, low and harsh, next to my ear. Her heart beats fast against mine. Another voice. A man. Not like Daddy. Angry. He hates Mommy, hates me. Daddy is there, suddenly. Angry. Mommy puts me down, and the angry voices get louder. Pushing, shoving. The awful man has said something. I can feel waves of hatred and pain emanating from Mommy and Daddy…
Like right now. I could feel my mother. My father. I could feel them, hear them. Mother lied. I was a witch. She was a witch. I had her power.
Mommy. Come back. Please.
Elphaba:
He knew my weaknesses, that Minister of Torture did.
Fiyero and I were left alone on our dismal wagon ride to the City. When we arrived at Southstairs, they threw us into a tiny, windowless cell. It was damp as hell. As usual, a pile of molding straw and a dirty chamber pot were the only objects in it- except two sets of ankle and wrist manacles on the walls.
"Oh, sweet Oz," I murmured under my breath. I could already tell that this round of imprisonment was going to be worse than any of the others. I was older, I hadn't trained in fourteen years, and this cell was more dank and those manacles did not bode well at all. I clutched Fiyero's hand tightly as the Minister of Bastardliness shoved us into the cell- and followed us, with a trio of Gale Forcers. The three of them grabbed Fiyero and yanked him away. The Great Bastard himself grabbed me and shoved me against the wall.
"Glad to see you have such faith in your prison and your elite guards that you need to manacle a one-twenty pound, five-foot eight woman to the wall."
"You are a witch, Miss Thropp. You have escaped this otherwise impregnable prison not once, but twice. Do not try to manipulate me into underestimating you."
"Speaking of escaping, since you're new around here, I'll fill you in on how this little routine goes. You capture us, we engage in witty banter, we arrive at Southstairs and have some more witty banter, there's some torture and defiant yet still witty banter, and then we try to engage in some witty banter with the guards but as they're too stupid I end up just messing with their minds, and then you or my father comes back in here to gloat, we engage in witty banter, you leave, we escape, and we yell something witty behind us as we leave. Any questions?"
Minister Bastard glared at me.
"You won't be so flip when I'm done with you, Miss Elphaba," he said, fastening the manacle around my left leg, then my right.
"That's Your Eminence, thank you," I spat haughtily back at him. He ignored me.
"I know your weaknesses," he went on, straightening.
"I have no weaknesses," I lied fiercely.
"Oh, really?" he asked. Suddenly, he pressed himself along the length of my body. Every cell in me screamed to get away. I shivered involuntarily and fought him unsuccessfully, chained as I was. He laughed at my efforts and pulled back, but before he fully did, he grabbed my right breast with his hand and squeezed it, digging in with his fingernails.
Fucking bastard.
I kneed him in the balls.
They really ought to shorten the chains on their leg manacles.