Title: The Grand Vizier of Oz
Author: Sedri
Rating: PG-13 / T
Summary: "Please come back - you're my daughter, I'd do anything -!" She stopped, hand half-raised and ready to cast a spell. "Anything?" AU, Fiyero/Elphaba. Complete.

Disclaimer: Neither Wicked nor the world of Oz are mine in any way.

Chapter Twelve
The Family Thropp

Year 2
Summer

It was a wet, muggy, exhausting sort of afternoon in Munchkinland, and the Thropp family was gathered in their informal sitting room, watching the rain patter down outside the windows. Frex was uncomfortable, tugging at his collar and trying to wipe his forehead without letting his wife see, for Melena was eight months pregnant, ill again, and stubbornly insisting she was cold.

"Don't we have any thicker blankets, Brynna?" she asked, looking at the maid who had just come in with a hot drink for her. Brynna shook her head.

"Not thicker, ma'am, but I could fetch you more of them, if you like."

Melena sighed and shook her head, cradling the cup in her hands and letting it warm her. "We could light a fire, I suppose."

At this, Frex had to protest. "Dear..." he began, looking around for an excuse, "...I think Elphaba's warm enough already."

He gestured to their daughter, who was sitting on a rug on the other side of the room, quietly playing with some wooden blocks. She had been dressed in a fancy purple outfit, but at some point must have simply discarded it, and Frex was grateful that no visitors were expected for the rest of the day. Melena looked at her, tilting her head as she smiled fondly – then shivered and pulled the blanket higher.

Frex felt her forehead. "Are you sure you don't want to go to bed, dear?"

She rolled her eyes and ignored him.

Brynna spoke up, "Would you like us to fetch that trunk for you now, ma'am? It may do you good to move around a bit."

Melena, who had nearly forgotten about the things she'd asked to be brought from the attic, straightened up and smiled. Swallowing a sip of liquid, she nodded and replied, "Yes, that would be lovely."

A few minutes later the trunk was brought. It was a heavy old thing, quite large, and would have been covered in dust if the servants hadn't made a point of wiping it down before bringing it to their mistress. Melena heaved herself toward it, excited, and Frex joined her with somewhat less enthusiasm. It was mostly filled with baby clothes, things that had been cheerfully gathered by both parents before Elphaba's birth and packed away once she'd outgrown them. About half were old-fashioned hand-me-downs from Frex and Melena's own babyhoods, and although they had more than enough money to buy new ones, Melena was a sentimental woman and flatly refused to get rid of even the most worn-out little wool hats.

"Oh, Frex, look at this!" she exclaimed, pulling out a tiny blue dress that Frex had always secretly hated, but tolerated just for sake of seeing her face light up each time they re-discovered it. "This was mine," she murmured, caressing the fabric. Then she held the dress up and looked across at Elphaba, who was still engrossed in her game. "Do you remember when she fit into this?" asked Melena, wistful now. "She's getting so big."

"She's two and a half," he agreed blandly, looking through the trunk. "Hmmm... this wasn't packed very well; the clothes are mixed up with toys and such."

Melena looked back at her husband and the growing piles of baby clothes on the floor around them. Continuing to dig, she suddenly frowned. "Frex, isn't that your stuffed scarecrow doll?"

He looked, then reached in to pick it up, turning it over. He hesitated, but he could hardly deny it. "Yes, it is. I thought I'd lost that."

Melena fixed him with a pointed stare. "You 'lost' it right after Elphaba was born. She was supposed to have that doll, Frex."

"It was an accident," he promised, and, aware that he hadn't had much credibility since his disgusted outburst at said birth, turned and called, "Elphaba? Come here, we have something for you."

Little Elphaba looked up, puzzled but not bothered by the interruption to her game. She climbed to her feet and toddled over, still holding one of the square blocks. Frex put on a smile and handed her the doll.

"Papa?"

"For you, Elphaba. It was... it was mine, when I was little."

Her green face broke into a huge smile and she hugged first it, then her father. "Love you, Papa."

Frex returned the hug with the sort of ease that only comes from great practice, patting her back and trying to focus on her black hair instead of her bare skin. When he pulled away he said, "Put your dress back on."

Still beaming, Elphaba nodded, picked up the painted cube, and hurried back to her play spot, carefully putting the soft little doll on the floor before picking up the dress and awkwardly climbing into it. Then she sat down and introduced the scarecrow to her blocks.

Melena was watching her fondly. "She'll be a wonderful big sister, Frex. She's so good."

"Hmm." Frex turned back to the box. "Look, dear, isn't that your mirror? The silver one you thought you'd lost?"

"It is!" said Melena, taking up the hand-mirror and turning it over in her hands. "Your mother gave me this," she added, as though Frex weren't perfectly aware. "It should go to Elphaba."

"Wha– Erm, what?" asked Frex.

"I'm going to give it to Elphaba," Melena declared, holding out the mirror more to look at its delicate engravings than her own reflection. "Clothes shouldn't be the only family heirloom she gets, and every young woman needs this sort of thing."

Her husband was hesitant. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

Melena frowned, glancing up. "Why not?"

He seemed to have trouble choosing his words. "Do you really want to give Elphaba something so... so associated with... looks?"

It was clear in an instant that these words were wrong. Melena's face darkened and she slammed the mirror down. "Elphaba!" she called, struggling to her feet. "Elphaba, would you like to play with paints again? The bright coloured ones you and I made a mess with last time?"

Elphaba, cradling the little scarecrow like a baby of her own, looked up eagerly and glanced at Frex, who had so disapproved last time. "I can paint me?" she asked as her mother waddled over.

"Yes, and even better? You can paint me, too."

Elphaba squealed and jumped and clapped, white teeth bright in her face, and Frex just shook his head as Melena called to the servants. A few minutes later five or six pots of simple water paints had been prepared and set out on the floor atop an old, stained tablecloth. It wasn't very big, but Elphaba was a careful child and Brynna was standing by to mop up any spills.

Frex continued to unpack the baby things while Melena settled herself on the floor by her daughter, helping her back out of the small, fancy dress and draping another cloth over her own clothes. "I'm going to be green today," she declared, handing Elphaba a brush. "Will you paint me?"

Elphaba giggled and stood, standing by her mother and smearing the globby green mix across one cheek in big, uneven swirls. She focused intently on it, tip of her tongue sticking out, and held the brush tightly with both hands. Although some clumps ended up in Melena's hair and ear, most of it ended up where intended – first on both cheeks, then her forehead, nose and chin. The silver hand-mirror was used for an inspection.

"Mmm! Frex, I think our daughter is going to be an artist," declared Melena, and said daughter beamed. "What colour would you like to be today, Elphaba?"

The child paused, looking at the array of colours, and Frex fully expected her to pick white or pink, the closest shades to normal skin. Instead she pushed both aside and reached for the bright red pot.

"Red, Elphaba? You want to be red today?"

She nodded. "Like the kadlings."

Melena laughed and promised that she would look just like a Quadling when they were finished. A few minutes later, Elphaba's face was almost entirely caked in red, and she sat cuddled beside her mother (it was now quite impossible to sit on her lap) as the two of them looked at their reflections. "We're beautiful," declared Melena, hugging her daughter. "We are very beautiful. And when the new baby comes, we'll all paint each other and all three of us will be beautiful."

Elphaba smiled and leaned against her mother, the fast-drying paint starting to crack every time she moved her cheeks. Green chips were already flaking away from Melena's chin and forehead, but she didn't care; she kissed Elphaba's black hair and said, "Brynna, would you fetch the camera?"

Frex, listening, was startled. "Camera? You want a picture of... this?"

"Yes. Brynna?"

"Right away, ma'am," said the woman, smiling as she hurried off.

Elphaba looked up. "Take a picture?"

"Mmhm. We're going to take a picture right now, and we're going to frame it and hang it on the parlour wall so that everyone can see how beautiful we are."

"Melena!" cried Frex, horrified. "The guests–"

"Already stare," she replied, and said nothing more to him until Brynna returned.

"I'm afraid I don't know how to use it, ma'am," she confessed.

"Frex does," said Melena, one arm on her large belly and the other around her daughter. "Take the picture, Frex."

"Dear, I really think–"

"Take the picture, Frex."

He took the picture. He took several, actually, despite the expense of the device and the film inside it, for Elphaba seemed to love posing and Melena freely indulged her. When at last he had an excuse – the film was spent – Frex rather firmly suggested that it was time for Elphaba to take a bath and go to bed.

The little girl made no protest, but picked up her new doll and hugged her father again – leaving little flakes of red on his shirt – before hugging her Mama and then leaning over to press her cheek against Melena's belly. She wrapped her arms around the swell and said, "Night, baby."

She got an extra kiss for that.

Elphaba's nanny, an Antelope who had also been the midwife at her birth, was waiting quietly at the door for her charge, and as they walked off towards the washroom, Elphaba's light, happy voice could be heard as she introduced the woman to her new doll.

Melena smiled and leaned into the cushions of a couch, offhandedly thanking Brynna for putting the paints away and looking around for her blanket. Frex draped it over her and sat down by her side. "Dear," he began carefully, "I was able to find more milkflowers for you."

"Ugh," groaned Melena, feeling her stomach clench. "Frex, I don't feel well. I hate those things, and I've already got a cold."

"I know," he said gently, stroking her hair, "but it's important. Think of the baby..."

Melena Thropp sighed. She knew perfectly well that there was nothing wrong with the baby. She, unlike her husband, knew exactly what had caused Elphaba's odd skin tone, and it wasn't something that this child had to worry about. The pretty little green bottle she kept after that wonderful night out was safely hidden in a drawer upstairs, and there was nothing left to drink in it anyway. She knew that she could tell Frex about it, explain that it had been a gift from that charming man who had turned out to be the greatest Wizard that Oz had ever known, and avoid eating any more of those horrible white plants...

...But she looked into his face, so open, so adoring, so trusting, and knew she couldn't do that to him.

Sighing, she took up a bleached white stem and chewed.

Year 22
Summer

As Elphaba Thropp, Grand Vizier of Oz, returned home to Colwen Grounds for the first time in almost a year, she noticed several changes, large and small, that were the first real signs that more had been happening in Munchkinland than anyone had told her.

Most obviously, there were now guards at the manor's main gates. Mostly ceremonial, by the look of them, but these Munchkins took themselves very seriously, and Elphaba had the impression that if she hadn't been such a distinctive figure with her green skin, dress and hat, she would have been made to wait until someone inside permitted her entrance. The second thing she noticed, as her carriage rolled in, was that there was a heavy-looking chain dangling from and clanging against the iron rungs of the gate, as though it were now habit to lock them firmly every night, keeping everyone out – or in. The third, which was nowhere near as threatening and yet somehow just as unsettling, was that every servant she could see, be they maids or gardeners or stable boys, was arrayed in a new-looking silver uniform. The Thropp family servants had never been liveried before.

It was not, overall, a very welcoming sight.

The grounds themselves were lovely, of course. The warm sun in the blue sky shone down on everything, making the already-bright colours of Munchkin flora and architecture seem somehow even brighter, until the entire place felt like a picture in a children's book. Elphaba smiled at that, for even she found the Emerald City a little too green at times, and leaned out the window to smell the flowery breeze that always made her feel at home.

She was recognised, of course, by staff and servants whom she had grown up with, and waved back at them merrily, so it was only when her driver actually stopped them at the manor's front doors that Elphaba's thoughts returned to the less pleasant issue of why she was actually there.

Stepping out of the carriage and giving her customary thanks to the driver and soldier who accompanied her, Elphaba looked around at the hastily-assembled staff, trying to find Boq among the silver uniforms. She had hoped to speak with him first, to get his entire story before saying anything to her sister, but no such luck – Nessa was already wheeling herself through the front door, looking delighted and beautiful in her blue dress and red chair.

"Elphaba!" she cried happily. "We weren't expecting you!"

Elphaba smiled back with little effort and walked forward, taking her sister's outstretched hands and crouching beside the chair. "I was able to take a few days off," she said, not exactly lying. "I thought it was important that I come to see you."

Nessa beamed and squeezed her hands. "Your timing is perfect; Father will be back from Linster tonight and I've just finished my meetings for the day. We have all afternoon to talk." She grinned and, releasing the brake on her chair, turned to wheel herself inside. "Come in, Elphaba, come in. There's so much I want to tell you."

Elphaba, who could hardly say that she wanted to talk to Boq first, followed, nodding and briefly greeting the staff she recognised. Brynna, who had become the housekeeper several years ago, leaned over to touch Elphaba's arm and say, "It's good to see you again."

Elphaba smiled and thanked her. Nessa was oblivious, hurrying them inside and sending the servants back to their usual duties. She rolled on ahead into the main parlour, manoeuvring around furniture with practiced ease and settling herself beside an end table that was just the right height for her chair. Elphaba took the couch.

"Tea," she said primly to one of the servants – not Boq – who bowed to them both and walked away, leaving Elphaba feeling like she was visiting some very formal place rather than relaxing in her own home. Nessa, however, seemed pleased. "We've been buying tea from the Vinkus recently," she said cheerfully. "Those farms they've been starting in the wetter parts of the grasslands apparently have amazing soil. Father and I are hoping to import some of it soon to see if we can produce our own crop next year."

Elphaba's brow raised as she took off her tall hat. "Import soil?" she asked dryly. Nessa sighed.

"Tea, of course. There's some sort of lovely spice in the Vinkun blend that we just haven't been able to reproduce, and everyone wants it, so the buying price has gone up," she explained, as though her sister didn't work with finances every day too.

"As far as I know," said Elphaba, "the Vinkuns are hoping to make enough profit from those exports to offset all the money that went into building the farms and hiring workers in the first place. I don't think they're likely to sell one of their best products to a competitor."

"We'll talk them into it," said Nessa lightly, accepting her cup from the servant and stirring it. "I'm just not sure yet whether we should plant them in the Corn Basket or down near Nest Hardings – it might be too wet in some places."

"I don't know anything about tea, Nessa," said Elphaba, helping herself to a biscuit instead, "but I don't think you should make those plans until after the trade is agreed on."

"You've always been a pessimist, Elphaba," said her sister, sounding a bit condescending. "They'll agree, and then we can have this tea all the time. Isn't it lovely?"

Elphaba sipped, and agreed that, indeed, it was rather nice. Nessa smiled.

The conversation continued for the next several hours, sometimes evenly shared between the sisters, but mostly Nessa talking to Elphaba about the events in her life – what it was like being Madame Governor, how their father had been, all the ambitious plans she was making for Munchkinland, and, of course, how happy she was to have Boq around all the time. Elphaba was used to these one-sided conversations and – in this case more so than usual – didn't mind in the least. She was relieved when the subject of Boq came and went without incident, though it unsettled her to notice that Nessa glossed over many details of what exactly he said or did – details she'd have expected her sister to talk about endlessly.

At last, after the biscuits were long gone and the teapot cold, Brynna came to inform them that Frexspar had returned and was looking forward to seeing them both at dinner. Nessa, surprised, looked up and said, "My, the time went fast, didn't it?"

Elphaba evaded the question.

Five minutes later, on the pretext of getting some fresh air before the meal, Elphaba strode through the kitchen and servants' corridors, trying not to appear rushed or rude, but hurrying nonetheless. Brynna appeared, and as Elphaba opened her mouth to say that she was sorry, but it would have to wait, the older woman told her, "Boq is in the second floor study."

Elphaba stilled. "You know about him?"

"I posted his letter to you," Brynna explained, and, keeping her voice low, began casually walking Elphaba out into the main halls. "It was all I could do. Most of the staff sympathises but there are some new folk I just don't trust. I'm sorry you had to be brought into this – we would have helped him get off the grounds if we could."

"Why can't you?" asked Elphaba, keeping her voice equally soft and her pace slow as they headed up the stairs.

"Because your sister has made it a crime." Brynna's face was drawn and serious and, Elphaba noticed, very sad. It wasn't hard to guess why; she had helped to raise Nessa, and was essentially betraying her. "A few months ago she made a small change to employment laws so that now, if young Boq doesn't have an official dismissal before he leaves the job, he can be legally recalled, or arrested. We objected, tried to talk her out of it, but..." She shrugged. "The good news is that the entire family counts as our employer, so your signature is as valid as your sister's or father's."

Elphaba nodded, but her jaw was tight. "How could Nessa make a change like that in the first place? I can't see Father agreeing; there's no point in having such a law."

"I'm not sure your father knows," said Brynna carefully. They had reached the study now, and she reached out to open the door.

Boq was waiting inside, pacing anxiously and silver cap askew. He looked up as they came in and, upon seeing Elphaba's face, he hurried over, holding papers that were obviously his employment contract. "Miss Elphaba, please. I know I have no right to–"

She held up a hand, not planning to waste any time on this. "I'll help you," she said, "but first I want to know exactly what's happened. Why are you even working here? I thought you were writing your novel."

Nervously crinkling the papers in his hand, Boq glanced at the door – Brynna had closed it, promising to keep watch outside – and forced himself to take a seat in front of Nessa's desk. Elphaba took the other. "I was writing," he said, "but... well, did you know I attended Shiz on scholarship?" Elphaba nodded. "I didn't keep a high enough average to get the full three years worth of money, so I had to borrow the rest, and now I'm in debt." He shrugged. "Nessa offered me work. It was better than any pay I could get elsewhere, so I took it. I didn't plan to stay for long."

Elphaba frowned. "And Nessa was clear on that?"

"...Sort of. I thought so!" he defended as Elphaba groaned. "I thought she understood that I just wanted to be friends. I told her that."

"Outright?"

Boq hesitated. "More or less."

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Elphaba leaned back in the hard wooden chair. "Go on."

He shrugged. "At first I thought everything was fine; we'd talk every so often, and I'd work on my book when I had time, but then she just started changing things. When my debt was half paid off she started cutting my salary, first by a quarter, then a third, saying that it was only temporary, but it's never gone back up. I started telling her I wanted to quit but she ignored me, and then she changed the employment laws, then posted guards at the gate, and now she's found a way to keep me from leaving Munchkinland entirely! What was I supposed to do?"

Elphaba ignored that, leaning forward with her hands clasped, elbows on her knees. "Are you absolutely sure that she did all that to keep you here, and not for any other reason?"

"I'm sure," he said, "but I can't prove it." He glanced at the door again, and offered the paperwork. "Please sign it. I never wanted to hurt her – I just want to leave."

"You've been hurting her for almost four years, Boq. Even when you broke up with her in Shiz, she was still convinced that it was 'just a phase' and that someday you'd get back together. Every letter she's sent me has made it sound like you were a perfect, happy couple. If you run off now without even saying goodbye... she'll chase you. Ending your contract won't change that."

Boq looked down. "I don't know what else to do."

Neither did Elphaba, but she took the papers anyway. Reading over them, her eye now trained to look for little legal details, she caught Nessa's alterations, so innocent-looking, so rationalised, yet so dangerous. Once she was sure of what she was signing, she put pen to paper, but did not give them back to Boq.

"You're going to talk to her," Elphaba told him. "After dinner, with me. I'll try to keep Father out of it, but you've got to make sure this never happens again."

The Munchkin cringed. "What am I supposed to say? As soon as she knows you've helped me she'll be furious."

"Face her, Boq, and hold your ground for once," replied Elphaba, annoyed now. She stood up. "If you'd told her the truth from the beginning, this wouldn't have happened, and I wouldn't have to go out there now knowing we're about to break her heart."

Boq looked away.

"I'll give you the contract afterwards," she promised, heading for the door. "I suggest you work out exactly what you're going to say."

Dinner was torture, and only in part because Elphaba knew what was going to happen next. Nessa was simply happy, and, having finally finished talking about everything in her life, asked many questions about Elphaba's, which served as a nice distraction for the guilt-ridden elder sister. On the other hand, Frex was there too, and less than thrilled by the surprise visit. The first thing he said, once the unpleasant pleasantries were over, was, "What brings you here?" The claim that she had managed to secure a little time off, so easily accepted by Nessa, didn't hold up to their father's scrutiny, and he spent most of the meal questioning every decision she'd made in her last six months as Grand Vizier. He agreed with some of them, and didn't exactly disagree with the rest, but his only sign of approval was an abrupt change of subject, which – though expected – was disheartening.

"I was surprised to hear about some of the changes being made around here," Elphaba said at last, turning the question on them. "Why did you choose to put a tax on travel, of all things? I've heard complaints from at least four families who say they can't visit their Munchkin relatives because the border taxes are too high."

"Because a lot of private farms and craftsmen have been evading the export taxes," said Nessa reasonably, scooping up a bite of her food. "They were moving their goods into Quadling country on the pretence of bringing gifts to family members, which is unfair to honest taxpayers and swindles us out of quite a bit of income."

Elphaba's brow furrowed, but it was a voluntary action, slightly exaggerated, and she chose her words carefully. "Then why don't you put the tax on the supplies themselves? Tax anyone who's crossing with more than a certain quantity of goods? What you have now isn't fair to other travellers. I'm told there are some people," she added pointedly, "who literally cannot leave Munchkinland."

"Anyone with such troubles can apply for a travel allowance," Nessa replied serenely. "We cover the cost of border taxes for anyone who isn't profiting from the journey."

"That seems like a waste of time and effort, Nessa," said her sister. She hesitated, then asked, "By the way, what made you post guards at the manor gates? Since when is Munchkinland so dangerous that we need armed protection at all times?"

She tried to make it sound like a joke, but Elphaba had never been very good at joking, and her family wasn't used to hearing it. Nessa frowned at her, puzzled, and Frex replied, "There have been a few incidents with disgruntled prosecutors demanding evidence for legal cases that we can't give out. It's possible they'll try to break into the manor and steal our documents."

Now Elphaba's surprise was genuine. "That's the threat? Lawyers? Are we hiding from the Lollypop Guild now, too?"

Dry sarcasm was a much more familiar style, and Nessa was not amused. "It makes me feel safer, Elphaba. Remember that all your pro-Animal changes have made enemies as well as friends, and while you have half the Gale Force to protect you in the Emerald Palace, we aren't nearly so secure."

It was meant as a guilt trip, and there was just enough truth in there for it to work. "Still, Nessa, they're only rumours. It's not worth making such a drastic change over."

Nessa scowled. "Is there anything else you'd like to question about my methods, Madame Vizier?"

Elphaba hesitated. She hadn't meant to bring up uncomfortable topics before Boq had a chance to say his piece, but it occurred to her that a warning might soften the blow, and if Nessa was making this official anyway...

"There is, actually," she said, and put down the spoon with which she had been half-heartedly picking at her dessert. "I'm worried about the mandatory dismissal clause you've added to employment regulations."

To her credit, Nessa's face remained impassive. In a perfectly innocent voice she said, "I thought I'd explained that when I wrote to inform you about the change."

She was also a very good liar. Both she and Elphaba knew perfectly well that no such letter had ever been sent, and Elphaba felt slightly... cornered. She had never been as good with subtle words games as her sister, so she replied directly: "You never told me about it at all. I didn't know until I came here."

Now Nessa did react; she stiffened, and her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Who told you?"

"Boq."

Nessa sucked in a breath, her face turning white and then red, and her expression darkened. Frex watched her, puzzled and concerned. "Nessa, dear? What's wrong?"

She ignored him. "And what, exactly, did Boq say to you, Elphaba?"

"That you made that change so he couldn't leave without your consent."

Nessa's jaw clenched. "And you believed that?"

"I hate to say it, Nessa, but I can imagine you doing something like that if you were desperate. I don't see any other reason for you to have made such a change."

"It was prudent," Nessa spat. "I was making sure no employers could suffer business losses by having their staff desert them without notice."

Frex was somewhat confused, but he said to Elphaba, "That's a valid reason."

"Father, it's ridiculous. Don't you see the potential for someone to abuse that power? Boq tells me he's been asking to leave for months and was denied every time. There's nothing 'valid' about that; that breaks every ethical rule there is, and ruins everything I've been trying to accomplish." Frex seemed unmoved, so she tried another tactic. "Didn't you say yourself, at Lurlinemas, that it's wrong to try to force anyone to love you?"

His brow furrowed. "I told you not to misuse your magic."

"The method makes no difference," argued Elphaba. "You said I have a 'moral duty'. Doesn't Nessa have one, too? Or is it all right for her to try forcing someone to love her?"

"It's not the same," protested Nessa. "Boq wants to stay with me."

Elphaba looked at her with a mixture of sorrow and disbelief. "He doesn't," she replied softly. "He's packing to leave right now."

"What?" With a rough shove, Nessa pushed her chair back from the table and spun her wheels, heading for the dining room door. "Boq!" she shouted. "BOQ!"

"Nessa–"

"Nessa, dear–"

"BOQ!"

The door opened before Nessa reached it. Boq had apparently been waiting nearby – rehearsing, probably, if the scraps of paper in his hand were anything to go by – and let himself in with no small amount of reluctance. He wasn't wearing his uniform, but rather the bright clothes normal for a Munchkinlander, and Nessa stopped cold at the sight. "Boq..." she breathed. "What are you doing?"

Drawing a deep breath and glancing at Elphaba, avoiding Frex, Boq looked at Nessa and carefully said, "Nessa, I care about you. You're my friend. But I don't love you, and I don't want to be here. I want to go home."

As he spoke, he managed to keep a calm, steady tone that came across as both reasonable and kind, and which would probably have worked very well if Nessa hadn't cried, "No! No, Boq, you have to stay! You can't leave me!"

"You don't need me, Nessa," he said, "and I can't stay locked in this house."

"It was only for a little while – until you realised–"

"I don't love you."

"–we're meant to be together!"

Boq said nothing, just watched her quietly, showing the one emotion that Nessa could never stand: pity. He let out a long breath and looked at Elphaba, who nodded and reached into her pocket for the papers. "You did your best," she said.

He took them, and looked back at his Madame Governor. "I'm sorry."

Her eyes flickered between his face, the papers, and Elphaba, and suddenly she realised what had happened. "NO! NO, you can't–"

"Goodbye, Nessa."

"NO!"

She lunged, grabbing for him, but Boq was already scrambling away, backing out the door and slamming it behind him. His pounding footsteps could be heard sprinting down the hall.

Nessa screamed. "BOQ! Boq, WAIT! WAIT, come BACK!" She rolled herself towards the door, trying in vain to pull it open with her own heavy chair blocking the way, shouting all the time. "Open the door! Someone OPEN THIS DOOR!"

Frex moved towards her, to help or comfort, but Nessa ignored him, arms flailing as she hauled futilely at the handle, and then Elphaba took hold of the chair and pulled it in the other direction.

"Let go! LET GO OF ME, ELPHABA! FATHER! Father, stop him! BRING HIM BACK!"

For the first time in her life, Frex hesitated. It was a painful, horrible moment for him: For all that he'd indulged his daughter's fancies, he'd also always believed her to be perfect – pious, generous and, above all, honest. But before this day he'd scarcely heard about Boq, nor had it ever occurred to him that his beautiful child might have had other, less respectable motives behind her suggestions. He was not, however, so wilfully blind to her faults that he failed to see them now: Elphaba was right, however much he might hate it, and suddenly his strict morals were in conflict with a father's love for his child.

The only reason Nessa never realised he wouldn't have helped her was because Elphaba chose that moment to step around the chair and block her path to the door. "Nessa–"

"HOW COULD YOU?" she howled. "HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?"

Her voice was soft. "It had to be done."

Nessa's mouth hung open in furious horror. "You're my sister," she breathed. "You're supposed to help me!"

"Nothing either of us can do will make Boq love you," Elphaba said quietly. "You have to let him go. I'm sorry, Nessa–"

"You're horrible!" shrieked Nessa, flinging herself backwards and nearly rolling over her father's toes. "You're a horrible sister! You never do ANYTHING for me – EVER! You have so much power and magic and you never do anything for ME!"

"Nessa... I love you."

"GET OUT!"

"Ness–"

"OUT! I don't EVER want to see you again!"

"But–"

"Elphaba," said Frex, "you've done enough." He knelt beside Nessa and reached out to give her an awkward hug over the arm of her chair. His cold stare informed Elphaba that, quite simply, she was no longer welcome in his house.

With nothing left but her duty, Elphaba said, "Father, I need your word that Nessa won't–"

"Munchkinland will obey the Wizard's law," he replied flatly. "And that of his Grand Vizier."

Elphaba nodded sharply, aware that this was all she would get, and backed away towards the door. She opened it quietly, watching as Nessa began to sob on her father's shoulder, asking over and over, why, why, why? Why did no one love her? What was so awful? What was wrong with her? Frex shushed her and stroked her hair, and reached out to pull a silver hand-mirror from her side, holding it up and showing that she was beautiful, brave, perfect ...

Elphaba closed the door and leaned her head against it. Through the wood she could still hear his gentle words, his assurances, slowly soothing Nessa's tears. She covered her face with her hands.

"Miss Elphaba?"

Brynna. She was waiting nearby, hands twisted together, sorrowful. "She didn't mean it, Miss Elphaba. Give her time."

Elphaba nodded slowly, closing her eyes and taking firm control of her shuddering breath. "I know," she said. "But it... it hurts anyway. She's my sister."

"And she couldn't ask for a better one," said the older woman, taking the liberty of giving her mistress a little hug. "Your family loves you, Miss Elphaba; even your father, deep down. They just don't... understand it."

It would be nice if that were enough. Elphaba just closed her eyes, accepting the embrace and trying not to cry herself. "I have to go," she said in a tight voice. "Back to the city, now. I can't stay here."

"No, I suppose you can't," said Brynna, patting her back and gently guiding her away from the dining room. "Come. I'll get you a hot drink and arrange for your carriage and driver."

"Thank you."

Brynna smiled softly at her, fondly, and after a moment she said, "Your mother would be proud, you know. She would never have stood for such a thing."

It was meant as a distraction, and Elphaba accepted gratefully. "I thought she didn't care about her duties; she always left them up to Father."

"Oh, she hated running the show," said Brynna, "but she cared. She cared about fairness, and happiness, and would never have let your father and sister to treat you so badly. She loved you."

Elphaba nodded and tried to smile. "So I've been told."

Brynna hesitated, glanced back at the closed doors, and said, "Let me show you."

Ten minutes later, Elphaba was sitting in the kitchen, sipping a hot chocolate while Brynna was ordering her staff about, sending for Elphaba's driver and bodyguard and instructing the cook to prepare a large basket of travel food. She made no attempt to hide her additions of extra sweets and sumpai fruits, Elphaba's childhood favourite, and then vanished into a back room for a few minutes, returning with a small wooden box.

"We were cleaning the attic last month," she explained quietly. "After the Madame died your father had all her things put away, and when we found them he gave most to your sister–" she looked apologetic "–but these were to be thrown out, and I thought you'd like to have them. Here."

She unwrapped and handed over a small pile of photographs. They were large, meant for display, and every one of them showed Melena and Elphaba laughing and playing, covered in cracked remnants of coloured paint.

"Your mother wanted to show that colour didn't matter," Brynna explained to the startled woman. "She said you were beautiful."

Elphaba slowly leafed through the pictures, studying each one intently and trying to drink in every detail. Some were posed very properly, with mother and daughter sitting beside each other, but as they went on, they became sillier. Elphaba's two-year old self was standing, smiling, laughing, and reaching up to wave at the camera. She gleefully showed off her red-painted skin and snuggled up against her mother's cheek, several times cradling a green-and-gold doll against her shamelessly bare chest, but it was the images of Melena that truly took her daughter's breath away.

The look on her face was heartbreaking. That said face was caked in green only made it sweeter. Melena obviously adored her daughter – in every shot she was hugging her, tickling her, kissing her, or playing with her. In one picture she was teasing Elphaba's hair into ridiculous tufts, and in another they were each kissing one cheek of the toy, which looked, up close, to be a stuffed scarecrow.

"I have the doll here, too," said Brynna, unwrapping a cloth bundle and handing it over; "they were all packed up at the same time. It was once your father's."

Elphaba took the little thing, running her fingertips over its frayed edges and painted face. "I don't remember this," she said quietly.

"You loved it," Brynna told her. "I think you named it Mister Cottoncrow."

That drew a little laugh. "Makes sense," said Elphaba. "He's a cotton scarecrow."

"You slept with him every night until your mother died," added Brynna fondly. "Then you..." she hesitated. "Well, you thought he might make Nessa happy enough to stop crying."

Elphaba faltered, hands tightening just for a second, but she nodded. "I wish it were that easy now."

Brynna squeezed her shoulder. "Give it time," she said again. "I'll write to you, if you like, until she comes around. But until then..."

"Until then, I'll stay in the City, and wait," Elphaba said in a resigned voice. She stood up, carefully gathering the doll and pictures. "Thank you, Brynna."

"Any time, dear," she replied quietly. "Let's get you on your way."