Hi there everyone, just to let you know this chapter contains flashbacks into Galinda's past, which are in italics. However, a flashforward is also posted in italics at another point within the chapter, so please do be aware of that. Please do review, I really do appreciate them ! =)

Also, for my plot to have more substance, the character of Shell is the eldest sibling in the Thropp family, with Elphaba being the middle child and Nessarose the youngest.

Chapter Two

A little girl, no more than nine years in age, sat on the edge of her father's mahogany desk, swinging her legs as she played with the edge of her petal pink gown. She was a stunning child with flaxen hair and eyes as blue as the ocean, every visitor to the Upland residence commented on her supreme beauty, much to her mother's delight. However, Galinda was far more than just a pretty face, something her father reminded her of frequently. She was a bright, articulate, precocious little ray of sunshine with a smile that could light up any room. Galinda was more precious to her father than any jewel in Oz, and Galinda undoubtedly believed him to be the hero of heroes. The relationship between father and daughter was truly unique, and the pair were more alike than any two peas in a pod. Her father would tell her wild tales full of adventure and suspense, never failing to leave her wide eyed and her imagination bursting at the seams. In return, Galinda would make him laugh until he was clutching at his sides, taking pride in causing a grown man to laugh so heartily. Thanks to her father, Galinda's childhood was full of light and laughter, never once sensing anything other than love and comfort when they were together. That was until the day her father died.

Galinda breathed in deeply as her legs repeatedly crashed against the side of the desk, focusing only on capturing the scent of her father's office, a perfume that had clung to him day after day. It was the smell of old books, black coffee and a dash of honey. Galinda closed her eyes, tears falling down her rosy cheeks, wishing with every fibre of her being that her father would walk through the door. Hours earlier, she had watched them lower his coffin to the ground before dropping a white rose onto the gleaming surface. She now understood what it meant to have a broken heart, and feared that it would never heal.

Upon hearing her mother's calls, Galinda slid from the writing desk, her foot catching at a drawer handle sending her tumbling to the carpet. Galinda threw her palms against the floor, grimacing as she straightened herself and smoothed down her dress. The force of her foot had burst the locked drawer open, causing it to spill various papers at her feet. As she gathered the papers in her arms, Galinda was struck by words such as 'dismemberment of basic humanity' and 'stripping of the most essential human rights' which seemed to litter the pages. At only nine years of age, Galinda was not yet aware of the meaning behind such statements, but being wise beyond her years she realised that these documents were of vast importance to her father. She emptied the remains of the drawer and hid the documents under the floorboards of her room, which she had long since prised open to stash her diaries. They were her father's work, the evidence of his existence in the world, and so she kept them there as if to honour his memory. It was not until she reached the age of sixteen that she could bring herself to read those words again, her mind frantically comprehending the thousands of pages she had stored under the floorboards for so long. It was not until she was sixteen that she was able to understand the meaning behind those words, what exactly her father was involved in. It was not until she had reached that tender age that she was able to contact those involved in her father's work, and had begged to join them in their mission.

The only benefit to no longer sharing a room was that Galinda was able to practice her sorcery skills until her golden heart was content. She was currently pouring through another one of Morrible's ancient books, entitled The Power of the Sorcerer, which she had stolen and thrown into her bag when the Madame's back was turned during class. A true sorceress, she had long since realised, had very little use for study materials. The gift could be unlocked only through practice and perseverance, which suited Galinda down to the ground due to her detestation of academics. However, such books opened her eyes to the different abilities she could conquer, with many not having been openly used for thousands of years. She was currently attempting to master the art of turning one's own hand into a torch, her eyelashes fanning her face as she closed her eyes in concentration. At first this trick had seemed like child's play compared to the various others she had learned, 'Surely a girl able to summon a ball of fire to the palm of her hand would be able to master this little technique?' she had mused only hours ago. However, she was finding it to be frustratingly difficult, her only result so far being the air that surrounded her hand radiating the dimmest of light.

She expelled a sharp noise, equivalent to that of a high musical note, in annoyance at her sudden lack of ability. Her emotional state was clearly affecting the powers she held, she struggled to think of anything other than Elphaba and the worry was throwing her mind off balance. She walked over to the window, embracing the cold air as she leaned out and jammed two fingers into her mouth in order to let out a whistle that would carry a good distance. A few moments later, a carrier pigeon balanced on the window frame, jerking his head expectedly in Galinda's direction. She tied a small note onto the bird, which simply read 'Inform me of news on Elphaba immediately; it is of serious consequence, G." She instructed the bird to send the note directly to Shell, whom she had grown to trust implicitly over the three or so years they had known each other. Perhaps his tactics could occasionally be a little questionable, and his morals slightly skewed, but Galinda had quickly learned that his actions did not come from a place of darkness but rather that of concern for the world. Shell went to any lengths necessary for The Organization, and had taken it upon himself to protect Galinda from as many dangers as was possible. Shell was Galinda's one true confidant until Elphaba, she trusted him with her life.

It saddened Galinda to think of Shell's relationship with his sister, the two having never had the time to form any kind of bond over the years. Shell had left home at eighteen after witnessing the murder of four underprivileged civilians, recognizing the uniforms of the murderers as those belonging to the members of the Gale Force. In the years that followed, Shell had attempted to locate members of The Organization, knowing only of the limited, hushed rumours that floated around Oz. Galinda was unaware of exactly how Shell had worked his way into The Organization, or how he had somehow understood that these murders were common practice in Oz (as opposed to being the actions of a few corrupt men), but at her joining Shell had been a member of The Organization for five years. The young man had instantly taken Galinda under his wing, the two being the youngest members that The Organization held, and they had quickly become thick as thieves.

Galinda closed her eyes once more, sensing the bite of the cold air at her skin, and concentrated once more on the task at hand. Outstretching her right arm, Galinda slowly turned her palm upwards, allowing the cold air surrounding her to drain the warmth from her body as she refocused it towards her open hand. Opening her eyes, Galinda was pleased to see a bright white light radiating around the mass of her palm. Walking back towards the pilfered book, Galinda leafed through its pages until she stopped abruptly at one particular item: 'Transportation by bubble?" she giggled to herself, well there was something she just had to try.

At that same moment, in a damp and darkened room, a figure clothed in raven black scanned the pages of another book stolen that very same day- The Grimmerie. Lips stained with green mumbled nonsensical words, eyes rolled backwards as they were forced into a vision consuming the emerald mind:

"Elphie," a shaking voice whispered, "Oh Elphaba, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry it came to this."

The sound of sobs filled the room as she felt the owner of the sweet voice drag her across the stone floor, cradling her as a face was buried in her coal black hair. Her eyes opened slowly, determined to meet the bright blue saucers that she knew would be filled with unfallen tears.

"Please don't cry Glin," she felt herself say, "I'm barely a drop in the ocean, unlike you, my sweet."

"Oh Elphie, you mustn't...stop talking in such a way, you'll be just fine... you'll be..."

...TBC...