Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ice-blue eyes closed slowly. The little girl didn't even bother to brush the frozen tears from her pale cheeks. What was the point? More would replace them. And maybe there was a tiny part of her that liked the pain, that felt she deserved it. After all, wasn't that what wicked witches deserved? Kill the witch. Burn the witch. That was how every story Elsa ever read about witches ended, and as the queen of isolation, Elsa had more than enough time to read.

Even then, she half-considered getting up from her snow-dusted bed and heading over to her ice-edged desk. It was as cold as she was miserable, but maybe a book would help her escape, even if only for one night. But she felt too heavy to leave the bed. It was as if she was frozen to the sheets, the blankets themselves the snowdrift in which she would die. She managed to pry open a single eye, though, and caught a flicker of something green in the night sky above.

"The sky's awake! So I'm awake! So we have to play!" The remnants of a memory—one of the last good ones she'd ever had—echoed around her head. Elsa bit her lip. No more tears came, but the sting was all too real.

"I wish…" she murmured, still staring at the dancing sky above. No. Don't wish. Don't start. Wishing only wounds the heart… "I wish I could go… somewhere over the rainbow…"

Heavy hung the head that wore the crown, but for Elsa, it wasn't just the weight of future responsibility pressing down upon her shoulders. How was she supposed to have a life, a family, of her own if she couldn't even be trusted to be around them? All she could do was watch as life passed her by, curbing and suppressing every emotion, positive or negative, for fear that they would simply be too strong and scare everyone away. It was a horrid thing to think about, but one day, even the king and queen would pass, and it would just be Elsa and Anna in that big, lonely palace.

A vision flashed through Elsa's mind, of Anna dancing happily outside. She was an adult in that vision. The golden sun was above, and the emerald grass was below, and there was someone—a man—on Anna's arm, dancing with her. Elsa couldn't see the face, the vision was hazy, but she envied him and Anna bitterly. Anna had a chance to grow up someday and leave that awful castle. But not Elsa. She would never have the same chance to be… normal. Free. There would never be anyone to take Elsa's hand…

Well, maybe that's a good thing… Elsa sighed again. It wasn't just fear for her hypothetical partner's safety that held her back. As she and Anna aged, while she sometimes heard the tail end of Anna's excited conversations, talking about prince charmings to sweep her off her feet and take her on glorious adventures around the world, Elsa found herself far less enamored with the idea. But she'd seen a few beautiful young women occasionally coming and going from the castle, visitors from other kingdoms, and Elsa wouldn't have minded seeing the world with one of them…

With an embarrassed, frustrated groan, Elsa pulled the pillow over her head and tried desperately to get to sleep.

ooo

"Woah…" The next time Elsa opened her eyes, she was lying… outside! In an emerald green field with gold corn and wheatfields in the distance. "I have a feeling I'm not in Arendelle anymore…" Even though she was afraid, it was a curious sort of fear; the kind that drove her forward to explore even though she normally would've hung back and waited. "Where am I…?" She lost track of her trek through the green and gold, passing a field of bloodred poppies. That was when she heard a sharp, childish, reprimanding voice.

"Hey! Who are you? And how did you get here?"

Elsa whipped around in alarm, then couldn't help but jump back with a shriek. A humanoid figure stood before her, clad in black from head to toe, with long, wild, dark hair that framed her face. Her face was precisely what had made Elsa scream.

"Y-you're…! You're…! You're green!"

For a moment, the green girl's dark eyes widened in horror, and she gasped. "No, really?" She looked down at her hands, but when her sharp brown eyes met Elsa's icy blue ones again, she was smirking. "All right. Let's just get this out of the way. No, I'm not seasick. Yes, I've always been green. And no, I don't eat grass! I'm not those stupid Munchkin boys…!" She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. Of the lot of them, the other children she grew up with and worked in the fields with, only Boq had any sort of sense, and didn't just have straw and manure for brains.

Elsa could only gawk, wringing her hands, completely at a loss for words. All she knew was that she'd upset the other person. No, girl. She was just a young girl, just like Elsa herself. Oh dear… I didn't mean to offend her…

The green girl continued to eye the white-haired warily, arms crossed, expression guarded. But after a moment, her eyes lingering on Elsa wringing her hands regretfully, her own sharp, sour look softened. Slightly.

"Oh, never mind all of that. I'm Elphaba. Elphaba Thropp. Third Descending of Nest Hardings." Even though she scrunched up her little green nose and even raised her chin slightly like a girl with the grace and poise of a palace princess, the disdain that flashed in Elphaba's deep, brown eyes made her true feelings about her "royal title" clear. This was just a formality. "You lost?"

"I- I- I'm Elsa… of Arendelle… Ummm, I'm not sure what generation off the top of my head," she admitted sheepishly, "but I'm… heir to the Arendelle throne…" Her smile was sheepish too. Why did it feel like bragging to say that. "And, yes… I'm lost…"

"Hmm." Elphaba just looked at her and blinked, nodding as she stored the information away in her mind. "I dunno where… Arendal is, but you can come back with me to my house. Maybe my father will be able to help you." Of course, she was far from his biggest fan, but she could at least acknowledge that being a Thropp had a few perks. Elphaba shrugged and took Elsa's hand without hesitation, dragging her eastward.

"Woah!" Elsa cried out, terrified she would harm the other girl, but if any ice escaped her, young Ms. Elphaba didn't even seem to notice. For just a second, Elsa couldn't help but wonder, does the green skin insulate her? For the first time in forever, Elsa felt a flicker of hope.

ooo

The two children walked through the fields of grass, poppy, corn, and wheat, chatting about everything and nothing. Elsa knew she should've been on guard. It was foolish for an heir to be so open and honest, especially with a girl she just met. But even though Elphaba could be a little mean and scary, a little intimidating and standoffish, Elsa felt a strange sense of ease around her that she felt around no one else.

Not even Anna. It was as if she and Elphaba had known one another in another lifetime, as perhaps silly as it sounded. Elsa even dared confide in the green-skinned girl, in Elphaba, that she was… well… a wicked witch. She could control all the strength, power, and ferocity of winter, the Queen of Ice and Snow.

"Oh, that's cool," said Elphaba.

"No, it's really not," Elsa sighed, lamenting, hugging herself, looking away ashamed.

"Well, I sort of get it," Elphaba shrugged, and for just a second, Elsa wanted to harshly tell her off. She wouldn't deny that Elphaba must've had a hard life, with skin as green as it was. But did Elphaba really understand what it felt like to have unexplained magical powers with the propensity to hurt people? Yes, in fact. Yes she did.

Elphaba smirked at Elsa, almost mischievous, finally letting go of her hand, but only so she could show the Snow Queen something.

"Woah…" Elsa gasped as Elphaba held up her palm, and then a red ball of fire puffed into existence just above her skin. As the flame rotated in Elphaba's hand, even the color shifted, from red and gold to greenish and even bluish.

But the ostracization the two children felt went even deeper than skin, or magic. Elsa—although it made her blush—even found herself confiding in Elphaba that she, well, might've had feelings for and attractions to other girls. She recounted some of the noble ladies who visited Arendelle from time to time, and even though Elsa never dared spend too much time with them, some of them were so captivating that she was sure she could've stayed and listened to them talk forever.

"I just wish I could be normal. Just once! In at least one way!" The white-haired girl admitted.

"What's weird about it?" Elphaba asked, tilting her head and shrugging. "Even I've had crushes before." She raised her nose, as if proud.

"But on other girls though?" Elsa winced again.

"Sure." Elphaba nodded. "Gender never meant much to me anyway. 'pparently, when I was born, even the midwives didn't know what I was." She grinned wickedly, as if the ambiguity delighted her, and even more so, the adults' befuddled reactions to the ambiguity.

"S-so are you… a boy?" Elsa asked, surprised. Then inwardly, she cringed at herself again. Was it wrong of me to assume she—I mean Elphaba—was a girl? I guess it was the long hair, but then again, I have sometimes seen boys with their hair in ponytails. Additionally, although little Elsa lacked the words for it, Elphaba had a rather square and angular jaw, which was perhaps part of what threw some adults.

Elphaba only shrugged again. "I guess it never did matter much to me."

"Then… what should I call you?" Elsa fretted.

"Elphaba," said Elphaba.

Elsa sighed, still not understanding—and feeling foolish for it—but she nodded. "All right then, Elphaba."

Elphaba, amused, chuckled softly. "Everyone says I'm a girl, and they call me "she" and "her", so I guess that's what you can do too." Well, it's "she" or "her" if they're feeling generous, she thought with another bitter smile. Otherwise, it's "it"…

She could hear her father's angry bellow on the day she was born, echoing around her memory as well. "Take it away… TAKE IT AWAY!"

It still stung, but Elphaba no longer flinched. Instead, she walked on impassively, still guiding Elsa and leading the way home. And Elsa, though still lacking the words to fully describe their connection, trusted her implicitly. Maybe, just maybe, the Queen of Isolation had a consort, or at least a friend.