Disclaimer: I do not own Once Upon A Time or Wicked.
A/N: Not the greatest ending, but it'll do. Please review so I can make this story better, though it isn't necessarily constant.
Chapter 4
It had been a few weeks since Stephanie had found the Grimmerie, and she still hadn't quite figured out what it was. When she had returned with Henry's books in one hand and the Grimmerie in the other, his smile had grown even larger, if that was possible. He had chirped a quick than you, paying for the books, then ran out of the shop, leaving a bemused Stephanie in his wake. Turning back to it, she had opened it only to fin that it was in a different language, or at least not one that she could understand. She had headed to the trusty internet to attempt to ind out which language it was, but she still hadn't found an answer.
Wrapping a dark green scarf around her neck, she pulled down her white beanie over her head and locked up the store, tucking the keys into her jacket pocket. Storybrooke was fully engulfed in spring's soft embrace, and yet a light snow was beginning to fall as she began the fairly short walk to her apartment. Smiling at Emma Swan, the town's new sheriff, and Mary Margaret Blanchard she passed by them, she didn't see the motionless man until it was too late.
"I'm sorry," Stephanie quickly apologized as she took a few steps back.
"No, it's alright," the man said, smiling at her.
"Have we met before?" she asked abruptly, her eyes narrowed as she frowned. He seemed familiar somehow, though she could swear that she had never seen him before.
"No," he smiled, perhaps with a hint of sadness, "you haven't."
Shaking herself slightly (she seemed to be doing that an awful lot lately), she stuck out her hand. "I'm sorry, where are my manners? I'm Stephanie, I run the bookshop right over there," the dark-haired girl introduced herself, pointing at the now dark windows of Roses are Read. "And you are...?"
"Fiy-itz." He said, taking it and shaking her hand. "Yeah, Fitz. Fitzgerald Thompson."
She looked at him a bit strangely-after all, who got confused about their name?-but dismissed it after few seconds. After a slight pause, Stephanie hesitantly said, "Well, I should get home...I'll see you around?"
He smiled brilliantly. "Yes, I daresay you will. Goodnight, Miss Nightflower." Turning around, Fitz began walking in the other direction as she continued towards the original destination of her apartment. After a few minutes, she got to apartment 7E and unlocked the door, unwinding her scarf and draping it over a chair as she prepared for bed.
It was only later, as she was falling asleep, that she realized that Fitz had referred to her by her last name, when she had only introduced herself by her first.
She was a Thropp, and Thropps bowed to no one.
The cackling sorceress attempting to destroy them, however, had completely decimated the royal family of the West, leaving only her father, Nessarose, and Fiyero alive. Even so, that seemed to be about to change. She was seriously considering bowing to this woman, if only to protect the few people she loved that she had left when Fiyero, Nessa, and Glinda were all flung back with one burst of crimson lightning, Nessa skidding to a stop in front of her pregnant sister. Fiyero, returning from where he had been flung off to the side, stood in front of his wife, his sword alight with flame. Glinda, having been bashed against a wall, slumped to the floor.
She did not rise.
With Gaylette busy keeping out the Wizard, who was the last thing that they needed at the moment, it truly was only them for themselves.
"Soon," the witch smiled, "I will rule this world, with all the magical power of a goddess. I shall grant you the honor of being the first royals to grant me my power."
She raised her hand, scarlet sparks linking her fingers together, a torrent of hail shattering the stained glass portraits of the many others who had come before.
The princess screamed her defiance, the very earth quaking as her magic echoed it.
Fire outlined her sister's hands and her husband's sword as the sounds of battle, both magical and mundane, fill the courtyard.
And then, a miracle-Glinda wakes.
"This world is taken," she smiles, teeth stained with blood, and then everything shatters, and Elphaba-Fae-Elphie-Fabala-Stephanie falls, and falls, and falls...
And wakes, to a day anew, frowning at her dream before the touch of magic wipes it away, and she is Stephanie, the kind young bookseller once more, as she has been for 28 years, while Princess Elphaba sleeps at the bottom of a deep well, masked by magic and gagged by darkness.