Chapter Text
It was a humid, honey-hot day in late summer when Elphaba first learned about pranks. The season was at its peak, and with it came Munchkinland’s signature cicada rhythms under the blistering heat of the sun, and the soothing melody of the crickets in the night. She spent most of it indoors with Nessarose, but every so often, her father would allow her into the dusty breeze outside of Colwen Grounds to play with the other children. Her mother had been adamant about this, before Nessa came. She needs to learn how to be social, she had said when she thought Elphaba didn’t understand. She’s already leagues behind.
Of course, Elphaba had been late to almost every milestone. She hadn’t spoken a word until she was three, despite being able to read at the same age, had skipped crawling and simply walked one day, and could hardly tell the difference between a young boy and a young girl in the way she assumed there wasn’t a difference at all. She was a girl—or, at least, that’s what everyone told her. She hadn’t the slightest clue what a girl was supposed to be and what made her such instead of a boy, but she preferred the idea of being some mysterious other thing altogether. A spider, perhaps, or the way a crow screams before taking flight.
Dulcibear had urged her out of the house that day, and Elphaba wandered the surrounding property until she found a group of five children her age—three girls (they had long hair and giggled, which, according to her father, meant that was indeed what they were) and a boy. The last one she couldn’t tell, but cautiously put in the "boy" category based off his short hair and nervousness around the girls. He didn’t seem very boyish, though, with the way he shriveled into himself if the boyier-boy looked at him too smugly or flexed his nonexistent muscles too hard.
Elphaba sucked in a deep breath, raised her chin, straightened her shoulders, and marched over to the group.
They were nice enough. The strange girlish boy’s name was Boq, the two girls were Almira and Malky, and the boyier-boy was Peric.
“Are you seasick?” asked Malky, eyes wide.
“No,” said Elphaba. “I’m just green.”
Peric prodded Elphaba’s arm. “Did you eat grass as a baby?”
“No. And don’t touch me.”
Peric shrugged and leaned back, and that was all that was said about her condition. As children do, they found something more interesting to talk about the next moment, and that was that.
Elphaba returned to their little spot the next day—a charming place by the docks hanging over crystalline water—and repeated this little ritual every week. Her father didn’t approve, of course, as he preferred to hide her in the house, but Dulcibear warded him off enough to let her continue her escapades. Nessa complained at first, but after the first two days, when Elphaba returned with gruesome reports of whatever they had done (anything from Almira jumping into the lake after a bug crawled on her to Peric falling out of a tree), she seemed to settle for staying home.
One day, Elphaba returned to the docks to find her acquaintances speaking animatedly to a grown-up. A teacher at the schoolhouse most of the other children attended, her mind supplied. As soon as the teacher saw her approach, her face paled. Elphaba watched the line of her gaze dart from her face to her clothes to her arms to her hair. Elphaba couldn’t look away. Her father always chastised her for how she stared at people, but she couldn’t help it.
“My Oz,” whispered the teacher, the thin skin of her throat tight with tension. “Come behind me, children.”
Elphaba blinked and walked faster.
“Not you!” the teacher snapped, and Elphaba was surprised to hear a note of fear in her voice. “I don’t know what you are—“
“I’m a girl,” Elphaba said helpfully.
The teacher said nothing. Elphaba tried to smile at her, but the appearance of razor-sharp baby teeth only seemed to frighten her more.
“She’s our friend,” said Boq, tugging at the teacher’s sleeve.
Friend? Was that what this was? Elphaba finally broke eye contact with the grown-up to stare at Boq instead. He shifted his weight from foot to foot. Her books indicated this meant he was nervous.
“Friend?” the teacher laughed, incredulous. “Your friend is green?”
The other four children didn’t seem as eager to defend her as Boq. “Well,” Almira said, words hesitant, as if she could tell that they had violated some social faux paus, “No. Not our friend.” She elbowed Peric.
Peric jumped. “Yeah,” he continued, his loud voice a little shriller than usual. “We found her a few weeks ago, and she was so weird we thought…we thought it’d be funny. You know, as a joke.”
“A prank,” Malky rushed out, letting out a breathy little giggle. “We thought it’d be funny to start ignoring her one day and see the look on her face.”
“Please don’t tell our parents,” Almira added, a note of desperation in her tone.
Elphaba watched them, listened. A prank. A lie. She glanced down at her hand, at the sickly green, and decided right then and there that she hated it.
The teacher seemed to accept this, guiding the children away from the dock and back to the schoolhouse, but Boq lingered. He cast Elphaba a look she couldn’t decipher before scurrying after them.
Without a word, she turned around and returned home.
***
Elphaba, old enough to understand that she had to be a girl and the rest of the world seemed quite happy in their assigned categories, had not taken kindly to the earliest stages of puberty. She’d read about it, of course, and Dulcibear taught her all she had to know, but that didn’t comfort her when her body began to change. Small changes—she hadn’t quite made it to the horrors the other girls dreamed about—but changes nonetheless. Everyone seemed to have lost their minds, but worst of all were the boys. They followed girls around like dogs. If she squinted, she could almost make out little tails wagging.
She was grateful whatever illness had taken over the general population of pre-teens had not affected her thus far, other than the occasional drop in mood or the flutter in her stomach when someone was nice enough to smile at her. What the others talked about seemed trivial, anyway.
At the moment, that flutter was absent, replaced by an uglier, sick feeling deep in her gut. She stared blankly at the Munchkin boy shuffling his feet before her, his own eyes looking at anything and everything but her green, a disgusted twist to his mouth. In his lock-tight fist was a golden dandelion, its petals glowing in the light of the morning sun.
“—and I was just wondering if maybe you’d like to be my girlfriend,” the boy concluded.
Elphaba had hardly heard the rest of his little speech. Her face was hot, but not in the way her fairytale books described it. She wanted to be anywhere else.
“No,” she said before she had time to think about it.
The shock of the answer had the boy finally looking at her, and Oz, she didn’t even know his name.
“My father won’t allow it,” she added as an excuse, because her books said that rejection hurt, and she didn’t want to leave any lasting damage. “He says I’m too young for that. I’m sorry.”
The boy nodded, looking a little disappointed, but not heartbroken like she feared. She breathed a sigh of relief. Despite the dread, something else, something quieter and dormant, poked its eye open. Someone had liked her, liked her enough to tell her, and that brought a certain lightness to her step.
Maybe she had given the wrong answer. Maybe that had been her only chance at her fairytale ending.
Boq ran after her as she started the trek to Colwen Grounds. “Elphaba, wait!” he called, his voice a little deeper than it’d been when they first met. “I need to tell you something!”
Not again. Elphaba took a deep breath and turned around, ready to reject him, too, before pausing to wonder. She had never been interested in Boq—had never been interested in anyone, come to think of it—but he was nice enough. Maybe she’d give him a chance. Before she could ponder for too long, Boq spoke, shoving away the curly red hair falling into his face. “You didn’t say yes to that kid, did you?”
Elphaba shook her head.
“Oh, thank Oz. It was a dare, Peric and some idiots told him to do it. I tried to find you as soon as I heard, but you were already talking to him when I saw you, and…” He clenched his fists. “Those idiots,” he repeated, glowering at the dirt. “I’m sorry, Elphaba.”
She didn’t respond at first. A dare. A prank. Of course. It all made sense. No one could ever like her like that. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and before she knew it, she was laughing. “I said no anyway,” she snorted, crossing her arms. “Now he gets to tell everyone not even the village freak wants him.”
Boq’s face contorted in surprise. “You said no?”
“Obviously. Haven't you met him? He doesn't even know about the ancient rulers of Oz."
Boq raised an eyebrow. “Not even I know about the ancient rulers of Oz."
"That's your loss, then, if you wanted me as your girlfriend instead. I would only allow such a thing with someone as well-read as myself."
A sickened look passed over Boq’s face. “I like you plenty, but that’s where I draw the line. And stop talking like an old man. It's freaky."
Elphaba rolled her eyes. "It's not my fault you talk like a child."
"How old do you think we are?"
Not answering, Elphaba shoved past him towards Colwen Grounds. "Father and Nessa are coming home from church," she announced, her skirts swishing behind her and kicking up dust. "If you dally here any longer, you'll run into them, and I'm sure he'll tell you all about today's sermon. Do you want that?"
Boq swallowed hard. "Not really, no."
Elphaba broke out into a sprint, throwing a somewhat feral grin over her shoulder. "Then run!"
Boq started, looking behind him to see a carriage coming their way, yelped, and scrambled to follow her.
It was easy to ignore the insistent ache that had settled in her chest—because of course it had been a joke, she had been foolish to think otherwise—when she ran, the wind tossing her short braids. Dying alongside the leaves was whatever hope she had left for a prince, overlooking the atrocity of her existence, coming to steal her away.
After all, she was a spider, the scream of a crow before it took flight, and not a pretty girl.
Chapter Text
Frexspar fired Dulcibear as soon as Elphaba turned fifteen. His reason—his excuse, really—had been that she was more than old enough to take care of herself and help look after Nessa.
Nessa cried her eyes out watching her go, and Dulcibear looked as if she wanted to rush straight back into that oppressive shell they called a house, if only to grant it some flowering warmth. Elphaba stayed stoic. She could feel her father’s eyes boring into her back. Any reaction would invite ridicule.
When Dulcibear hugged her, brown fur tickling her nose, she resisted the urge to cling. Needing someone as she knew she needed Dulcibear was a dangerous thing, and this was why. On any given day, they could be taken away as swiftly as a storm rolling over the tulip fields, a prank in its own right. Other people got to have the luxury of such attachment, but not her. She was not dull or naive enough to believe anything was forever, and the idea of loved ones residing in her memories was laughable. She could barely dredge up a memory of her mother.
Elphaba saw things. She saw her Bear nanny leave them with almost no warning at all. She saw Nest Harding’s best craftsman, a Lemur, retire. A Wolf she’d seen conversing with several traveling businessmen, as if she was important, was now working at a cafe at the other end of town. No one noticed, and those who noticed, didn’t care.
Animals were always a controversial subject in even the far reaches of Oz. She’d overheard her father discussing the subject with visiting politicians countless times. Once or twice, she’d even seen Munchkins react to them with the same disgust they did her. Elphaba had decided long ago, even if she didn’t understand why Animals were disliked, that she enjoyed their presence more than most of the humans she found herself stuck with.
Several months after Dulcibear left, Elphaba found herself in the house’s massive study. Nessa was cozied up by the fireplace, engrossed in some old Unionist text Elphaba herself had read several years ago. It was perhaps her sister’s favorite activity in the world besides complaining about being cooped up in the dank prison that was their family home.
“Fabala, why don’t you go out anymore?”
Lately, Nessa had taken to blending aforementioned favorite activities together until Elphaba’s head throbbed with a migraine. Frex didn’t allow her sister to leave the grounds without her—before, it’d been Dulcibear’s job to wheel her around town (despite Nessa’s repeated insistence she could get around on her own, thank you very much), but without another nanny to replace her, the responsibility fell onto Elphaba’s thin shoulders. Unfortunately for Nessa, she preferred to haunt the halls of the manor or wisp away to the gardens under the cover of the night sky. An affluent family like theirs had no real need to foray into the streets; tailors and chefs came to them, not the other way around.
Elphaba shrugged. “Why would I?”
Nessa idly turned the page of her book with an air of forced nonchalance. “Don’t you have friends? What ever happened to those playmates of yours—what, with that Master Boq and—Purec, was it? You seemed to like them all right.”
“I haven’t spoken with Boq since I was twelve,” Elphaba said, annoyance slicing through the usual gentle curve of her vowels. Nessa didn’t tend to pay attention to much when it didn’t have to do with her, but her lack of situational awareness was truly something to behold. This was the third time she’d asked about the boy, for Oz’s sake! Elphaba had the patience to explain that Boq’s family had not returned to Nest Hardings, opting to raise their son in his hometown of Rush Margins instead for a cheaper price the first two times, but she didn’t bother again. “And I don’t remember the rest of their names, Nessie, barely remember them at all, other than they hated me in the end, anyway.”
“Can’t you just make new friends?” groaned Nessa, throwing her head back. These type of theatrics she would never display in front of anyone but Elphaba, and while it should have irritated her, the warm glow of affection soothed the sharp twang of indignation in her chest. “I hate being cooped up here. I’ve been making my way through these readings Father asked of me, but this is my last one, and—“ She put her face in her hands. She was only thirteen, but her petulant dark eyes and pouting lips gave her the appearance of someone much younger. “Oh, Fabala, can’t you convince Father to let me out on my own?”
“When monkeys fly, sure,” Elphaba scoffed, peering through the bookshelves for something that caught her eye. “I don’t want you out there on your own, either. People are cruel.”
Nessa sighed. She hadn’t turned the page for several minutes, and there was still a tense line through her body, making her look sharper than usual. Oz above, she almost looked like Elphaba—just prettier, with a blessedly normal tanned skin tone.
It wasn’t as if Elphaba wanted to stay stuck in here forever, either. Be it as it may that she preferred the comfort of her bed than the lamps of town, even she occasionally grew bored. She had even considered the idea of venturing back out there, talking to someone—then she would catch a glimpse of herself in a looking glass or a window, and she shrank back into herself. There was a reason Frex preferred her kept away. She was possibly the most hideous thing anyone had ever created, and she knew her father saw her as nothing more but an error, or a trial sent by the Unnamed God, or a punishment for whatever sins he committed in another time. There were times there was a sort of comfort within her ugliness—no one would ever try to kiss up to her. Every so often, though, the socialized pains of beauty seeped their way through her consciousness until they were burrowed so deeply she couldn’t register them on any surface level. Her verdigris was a curse, and she was some sort of inhuman demon. It was part of the reason why she couldn’t think of herself as a girl like the others, really, though if she had the privilege of humanity, she doubted she would feel differently anyway.
Elphaba spotted a book that looked old enough, the golden lettering on the spine somewhat faded and settled with dust, but it lacked any of the wear old books usually held. As if no one had opened it since its purchase.
Pulling it out, she waved the dust away, a cough punching out of her involuntarily. She adjusted her glasses against the dust and cursed herself as she reached for a lens wipe from her pocket. With a squint, she glanced over the cover: an illustration that looked like it’d come straight from the Ozma regime, with several Animals—a Badger, a Goat, a Weasel among them—forging a path of some sort through a deep wilderness. On Claws: A Precise History of Animal Innovations.
Elphaba blinked. She had never seen any book in their home about Animals. She was half-convinced someone snuck in and left it there, but there were so many guards stationed throughout the place it would’ve been impossible.
Her heart ached. Dulcibear used to tell her about her old life, before she was her nanny, when Elphaba was much younger. The tales had calmed her enough to sleep most days. Elphaba clung to the book as if it was tied to the Bear herself and ventured into a chair to crack it open. It lacked the warmth and personability Dulcibear’s stories held, but it was something.
“Elphaba?”
Elphaba hummed, if only to convey she wasn’t ignoring her.
Nessa’s thumb ran over the lip of the cover of her own tome. Her brows were furrowed close over her eyes, as if she’d been thinking hard about something for a long time. “What if one day, you go away? To school or something. Then who will look after me like Father wants?”
A wry smile tugged at the corner of Elphaba’s lips. “Bold of you to assume he would let me go anywhere you weren’t. What do you think he would say? 'My daughter, go forth and learn, and then come back before anyone notices you’re green.' He’s embarrassed of me enough as it is.”
“Come now, you act like he doesn’t love you.”
“Of course he loves me. He’d say it is because he loves me that he hides me, but that’s not the reason, you know it, I know it, everyone knows it. What use would me leaving to school be, anyhow? We have tutors here.”
“It doesn’t have to be school. What if you meet a nice boy and—"
Elphaba’s loud cackle of a laugh interrupted her, and Nessa rolled her eyes. “You’re insufferable,” she hissed, slamming her book shut. “Thinking you’re so above the idea of love and marriage. The Unnamed God will find a good man for you one day, mark my words.”
“A colorblind one, I assume?”
“A personality-blind one, if he’s so lucky. I’m tired of this conversation. You must let me have some sort of freedom, too—don’t pretend it’s just Father.” She headed towards a shelf and reached up to put the book back, but couldn’t quite make it. “Oh, Oz damn it all—“
“Language.”
“Hush, Elphaba, just help me, please.”
With a fond yet aggravated breath, Elphaba closed her own book, took Nessa’s from her porcelain hands, and pushed it back into place on the shelf.
***
Elphaba’s eighteenth birthday came and went without fanfare, as it always did, and soon, so did her nineteenth and twentieth. She had not gone to school like Nessarose feared, nor had the Unnamed God found her any sort of man to marry, colorblind or not. If her father had it his way, she would’ve become a maunt of the local convent, but her disgust at any type of dogma cast that scenario out of her future, too.
She spent her time reading, mostly. The first Animal history book had opened a floodgate of knowledge. If Elphaba could do anything, she would become a historian, telling the hidden stories of Oz’s most hated race for years to come. Of course, she read about subjects other than Animals; in fact, the few times she shoved her awareness about her appearance aside and stomped into town, it’d been to bring more books back home with her. Part of her hoped there was some answer to her condition somewhere in the miles of text she pored over, but alas. Maybe she was cursed to stay green forever.
Of course, then there was the single hope she’d held since she was a young girl. Her heart’s desire. She was loathe to mention it to other people—other people did not want to her about the vegetable’s dreams—but someone like the Wizard would see right through her. He was just as strange as she was, and she had no doubt he faced some of the same struggles, too. Elphaba would be suspicious if someone flew down on a balloon outside her house now, even with the knowledge she had of the Wizard’s arrival.
It was an occasional fantasy that only crossed her mind once in a blue moon: sweeping into the Emerald City, into the Wizard’s palace and bowing before his throne, of him waving his hand and her green receding until she was beautifully normal. Maybe he could even find a solution to her other condition—the one where things exploded or caught fire if she got too angry. It was the reason she did her best not to get angry at all, instead settling into a perpetual irritation that staved off most true emotional outbursts.
Maybe then she’d find a good man that didn’t even have to be colorblind or personality-blind, and Nessa could stop pestering her about it.
One day, after a particularly thrilling discussion with her father about the inherent coercion present in Unionism (well, thrilling for Elphaba, at least; Frex had been appalled at the questioning of his beliefs), Nessa announced her plans for her adult life at dinner.
“I want to go to university.”
Frex choked on his asparagus, and Elphaba paused midway through drinking her water. For once, they looked at her the exact same way.
“Shiz University,” Nessa clarified, pretending she didn’t notice their faces as she cut through a chicken thigh. “You’ve both heard of it, surely. In Gillikin?”
Of course Elphaba had. It was one of the top schools in all of Oz. If she was normal, she would’ve wanted to go there, too. It had the best history program in the land, led by her favorite Animal researcher, Doctor Dillamond; she’d read his works at length over the past five years.
“My pearl,” Frex laughed nervously, “you can’t be serious. Too many of those Gillikinese are lost souls to Lurlinism, or, God forbid, pleasure faith. What happens if you give into temptation, sweetheart?”
Nessa rolled her eyes. “Father, it’s me. My faith in the Unnamed God is unshakable.”
“Even so, how will you get along there? We would have to hire another nanny, and—“
“No. No nannies. No chaperones, just…” Nessa set her cutlery down. “I’m eighteen, Father. I know you think I’ll break if the wind blows wrong, but I’m tougher than you think. I’ve survived all these years with Fabala as a sister, haven’t I?”
The insult didn’t even hurt.
Frex opened his mouth, distraught, but Elphaba cut in. “Father, she’s an adult,” she sighed. “She can’t stay here forever. Mother wanted me to go out there and socialize, and I’m the least favorable daughter. Don’t you think she’d want that even more for Nessa? She’s too pretty to be hidden.”
Frex blanched. “Don’t speak of your mother like that,” he growled, a shadow crossing his face. “Don’t speak of your mother at all, in fact—you have no idea what she would want.”
Elphaba bristled. Father and daughter glared at each other for several moments before Nessa cleared her throat.
“Doesn’t it matter what I want?” she asked softly.
“Of course, pearl, of course, but I’m unsure you know what this would all entail—that is to say, you’ve never been on your own, and do they even have ramps? Or a room for someone like you? God forbid those fools do something to you—"
“Shiz is perfectly accessible,” Nessa said, voice clear and sure. “I’ve done extensive research. I knew there would be questions, and I’ll answer all I know, and we can figure out the rest together.” Her tone dropped into something quieter, more vulnerable. “Please, Father. It’s what I want the most.”
Elphaba knew Nessarose had won when Frex’s shoulders sagged just a centimeter. He pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Very well,” he said after a long silence. “But if I find anything in this research that seems dangerous…”
“Yes, yes, I won’t go if that’s the case.” Nessa’s face had broken out in a bright smile, brighter than Elphaba had ever seen it. “Oh, thank you, Father, you won’t regret this.”
Frexspar hummed, not meeting her eyes, and Elphaba sensed he already did.
Notes:
i promise we are getting to gelphie soon, but GAWD i love the sisters sm. they warm my heart in their love/hate-ness. mwah mwah
Chapter Text
It had been a very long day.
Dropping Nessa off at Shiz University for her first year should have been easy, a quick few minutes to say goodbye before Elphaba and her father left for home again—and, initially, this was what happened.
The sun hung high and bright in the sky, the waters surrounding Shiz pulling in a skin-soothing breeze. The docks were a flurry of activity; students and parents alike swarmed over the boats with their luggage like so many ants. Their voices wafted over to their boat, clear and ringing and containing no shortage of nerves and delight. Quadlings, Gillikinese, Munchkinlanders alike—it seemed damn near all of Oz had been concentrated into this small point of contact. Frex eyed them all with a wary look to his face, a hand stroking his graying beard (he usually would have shaved for such an event, but his own nerves seemed to have allowed him to appear more disgruntled). It’d taken almost a month for Nessa to convince him this was a good idea. Perhaps ‘convince’ was the wrong word to use. His watchful gaze flitted to the grand columns and carvings engraved into the walls, no doubt trying to find any evidence this school would lead his lamb of a beloved daughter astray. Elphaba tried her best to ignore his incoherent mutterings.
She had been the first one to step off the boat to try to make room through the crowd for Nessa’s approach as Frex spoke with an attendant about the luggage situation, and although she knew she shouldn’t have been surprised at the spectrum of reactions to her presence—the spectrum itself ranging from ‘disgusted’ to downright ‘fearful for their lives’—the mixing bowl of different personalities had made her hope, for a split second, that things would be different. Maybe it’d be different for Nessa, at least. Oz, she hoped things would be different for Nessa.
She was happy for her sister, really. She deserved this. Yet, a twinge of envy tugged at the very core of Elphaba’s nonexistent soul as she looked around her surroundings, the marvel of it all. How much history must have been made here, and none of it she could study in a particularly enlightening way. A shame. Maybe she’d get Nessa to write home all the things she learned.
Her thoughts drifted further, a mismashed affair of anxiety and pride. Her thoughts drifted so far, in fact, she almost didn’t notice the clearing she found herself in, having parted the throng of students by the oddity of her existence. What brought her back to reality was the realization she was being watched by a specific pair of eyes.
She paused and blinked, pushing her glasses further up her nose, and fully took in her situation.
A girl stood several feet away. Blonde hair fell over her shoulders in cascading waves, a rosy flush to her cheeks placed so expertly that it couldn’t have been natural. Obnoxiously long eyelashes fluttered over doe-like eyes as she blanched. Gillikinese, by the looks of it, with all the makings of a rich young socialite.
Elphaba loathed her at first sight.
“What is it?” she scoffed out, knowing damn well what it was. “What’s everyone staring at?”
The girl tilted her head to the side. She didn’t look quite as horrified at the sight of her, something like confusion clouding her features. “Sorry,” she said, eyebrows furrowed. “It’s just—you’re green.”
Elphaba resisted the urge to snort. Instead, she glanced down at her hands, contorting her expression into one of sheer shock. “I am?” she gasped, her face falling flat as soon as the words left her lips. “All right, let’s get this over with.”
And she’d explained herself very well, she thought, much in the way she had since she was a child—her supposed seasickness, questions of her diet as child, the works. The girl swept around the edges of the clearing, still keeping far enough away, but she still must have had some sort of bravery to approach at all. If Elphaba wasn’t so hell-bent on ignoring the irritating way she flounced, she would have been a little impressed.
By the time Frex reprimanded her with Nessa in tow, Elphaba decided Shiz University was a very unfortunate place to be indeed, if this girl was in attendance. Her bubbling anger only simmered under her skin as her father eagerly handed Nessa a decorated box.
“…So everyone can see how beautiful you are,” Frex said as Nessa opened the gift he’d given her—their mother’s old silver-studded shoes, glistening in the morning sun. “Right down to your toes.”
“Father, this is—“ Nessa stopped and swallowed hard, a tight smile pulling at her lips. Her eyes lowered, hands curling around the present protectively. “Thank you.”
He nodded warmly and hurried to add the shoes to her pile of luggage. As soon as he was out of sight, Nessa turned to glare at her sister.
Elphaba glared back for a moment before heaving a sigh. “I shouldn’t have sprouted off like that.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” said Nessa sternly. “Two minutes on campus and you’re already making enemies. What are we going to do with you, Fabala?”
“Send me to the fires of hell, I expect.”
Nessa smacked her arm, and Elphaba let out a loose cackle of a laugh. That should have been the end of it. An annoying girl enthralling mindless students, all seeing her for her green—typical. Unfortunately for everyone involved, life was one big joke, and Elphaba always seemed to be the punchline.
That day's prank from the universe came when that the headmistress tried to wheel Nessa away despite her many protests, and, well. Elphaba was nothing if not protective.
Nessa (and her chair) was flung into the sky, tables overturned, and the student body screamed as one as something fragile snapped in Elphaba. It lasted all of ten seconds, ending with Nessa safely back on the ground by her side, but the horrified faces of everyone in her vicinity told her she had just made a critical mistake.
It was then Madame Morrible—who, of course, Elphaba knew of (anyone who read anything involving sorcery knew of her)—had swept said mistake under the rug with two sentences.
“Magic is merely the mind’s attempt to wrap itself around the impossible,” she said, her voice authoritative and booming. The students’ snapped their heads to her at once. “Yes, that was me.”
She’d continued with some drivel about the expecting the unexpected before approaching. Elphaba wanted to shrink away at the kind warmth exuding from the older woman, but she found herself rooted in place.
“What’s your name, my dear?”
She fidgeted with one of the rings adorning her fingers. “Elphaba Thropp, ma’am.”
“Elphaba.” Madame Morrible hummed, and proceeded to change her life with a single conversation.
By the time the whirlwind of the day whisked her into Crage Hall outside of her new dormitory, Elphaba was exhausted. She’d stolen some of Nessa’s clothes to tide her over until her father sent back whatever luggage he deemed necessary for her, which wouldn’t be enough, but just the fact he was allowing any of this at all was a blessing from the Unnamed God Himself, she supposed. Morrible’s hopes of helping her learn to harness her magic, as far-fetched as it seemed, was better than staying in the prison of Colwen Grounds. Anticipation fluttered in her chest like a moth. There was even a chance she would study with Doctor Dillamond.
Only trouble was—
“Come in,” came the same grating, sweet voice from earlier, rich chocolate eyes blinking back at her a moment after the door had opened.
Galinda Arduenna Upland (of the Upper Uplands!) was the last choice she would’ve taken in terms of roommates considering their less than amicable meeting. Alas, she was here, and her father had already sailed into the setting sun. Galinda was her last choice, but she had no choice to begin with.
Bracing herself, Elphaba pushed into her new room.
It was as if a cherub had gone there to vomit and die. Pink ceilings, pink suitcases, pink light. It was huge, and yet every corner was overrun by what she immediately dubbed the "essence of Galinda". Revulsion shuddered through her. Dear Oz. It somehow even smelled pink.
There was a bed hidden away on the other side of the room, buried behind racks of glittering gowns and over-the-top blouses. Elphaba squinted at it and ignored the way Galinda fussed almost nervously with her hair, twirling it around her finger over and over again.
“Does this seem fair?” Elphaba asked after a terse moment, glancing back at the blonde girl hovering behind her.
“Not at all,” Galinda huffed. “I was promised a private suite, you see, so I didn’t have time to prepare—that’s not to say you aren’t welcome!” she continued, the words rushing out of her like a crashing waterfall. “But I wasn’t expecting…you know.”
“Expecting what?”
Galinda gestured to her entire form, lip curling slightly. Elphaba scowled at her vagueness. “I don’t know what that means.”
“You know! Ugh, a proper lady doesn’t speak ill of her guests—“ Elphaba snorted at that one. “—but it’s not exactly a good look to have someone afflicted with such a—a condition in my dormitory! You aren’t contagious, are you? Momsie and Popsicle will not be happy.” She paced and huffed around the center of the room. “And that display downstairs; why, you’re a positive danger to be around!”
Momsie and Popsicle? This was going to be the longest year of her life. “I’m not diseased,” she said, shoving some of the hanging clothes aside to get to the second bed, pretending not to hear Galinda’s affronted gasp. “Don’t worry, sweet, you’ll stay as prim and pretty as you wish. There’s no accounting for the ugliness you seem to exude from your mouth, though.” Another gasp from behind her. “Oh, spare me! Perhaps a proper lady wouldn’t speak of such things, but I do not see you as such, and heaven knows I’m not, either.” Elphaba shoved away some of the pale suitcases embroidered with a golden cursive G with disgust.
Galinda bit her lip, her hands curled into fists. “So, this is how it is going to be? Most civilized people at least attempt to be cordial to those they plan to live with!”
“I am not most people, despite being rather civilized myself.”
“Are you always this sharp of tongue?” Galinda moved now, yanking a fuschia handbag from Elphaba’s hands. “Or are you just emboldened that Madame Morrible chose you?”
“Why? Do you wish she chose you instead?”
“I’m in architecture, I don’t care at all for sorcery,” Galinda said, tossing her hair as if this was the most obvious answer in the world. “Listen, Miss Asparagus or whatever your name is, neither of us are happy with this arrangement. Why don’t you just go home and leave the studying to—“
“It’s Elphaba, and no. If you want me gone, you’ll have to try harder than that.”
Any pretense of civility melted away from Galinda, and it was almost satisfying to witness. Elphaba hated masks—she’d been forced into them as early as three, when she was urged to accept hugs she didn’t want from distant relatives, or stop her hands from twirling in the air—and she hated them even more on other people. It was too much trouble.
“Fine,” Galinda gritted out, stomping past her to fling open the balcony doors. A cool gush of air flowed into the room. “I’ll make sure you don’t last a month.”
Elphaba grinned, a wicked glint in her eyes. “I look forward to your attempts, dear Miss Galinda.”
With another indignant toss of her hair, Galinda disappeared onto the balcony and slammed the doors shut behind her.
***
It had been a week since classes started, and Elphaba did not feel inclined to leave any more than she had that first day.
It wasn’t for Galinda’s lack of trying. She’d watched her whisper to her little entourage in the mornings, and by the afternoon, some new rumor swirled around campus. Right then the hot topic of debate was the matter of her enrollment, and how it had been only by Governor Thropp’s will she managed to get in. This was also the most humorous to Elphaba, considering she hadn’t enrolled in the first place, and if they wanted to get her for nepotism, about sixty percent of the student body should be looking at each other, too.
Classes were going well—as she’d hoped, she managed to get into Doctor Dillamond’s lectures (unfortunately, Galinda was also in this class, and never let her forget it). Madame Morrible’s sorcery seminar was more difficult, and she found herself more frustrated than anything else after their first lesson, but Morrible had only put a calming hand on her shoulder and smiled. “Don’t fret, dearie,” she said. “No one gets it right away. Even the Wizard would tell you that.”
Elphaba refused to go back to Crage Hall after class just yet, instead changing direction and slinking towards the library. It’d become her favorite place on campus, warm and just the right amount of darkness for her taste. Thunderclouds ahead rumbled with the warning of an incoming storm. Lovely. It was her favorite weather for studying.
“Hey!” called a voice from behind her, breathless, like they’d been running. “Hey, wait!”
Elphaba stiffened and closed her eyes for a long moment, awaiting the inevitable question about her father. She heard footsteps approaching. A laugh that sounded less mocking and more joyful, which puzzled her. “Miss Elphaba, it really is you!”
The voice sounded familiar. She cracked open an eye.
Before her were three boys. Two of them huddled a little too close together, arms slung around each other’s shoulders, one taller and one shorter. Those two hung back a little, watching her with curiosity. The one closer to her was a Munchkinlander through and through, red curly hair and all. Freckles smattered his face, and his smile was a little crooked. The beginnings of a beard hinted at the sides of his face and his chin, but it was certain to her it’d never grow further than that.
She blinked. “Who are you?”
The boy’s face fell. “Come on,” he said, obviously hurt. The boys behind him snickered. “You can’t have forgotten! It’s me!”
She studied him harder. He shifted a little under her gaze, and the aversion of his eyes was suddenly so familiar it hit her like the bullet train to Emerald City. “...Boq?”
“She does know who you are!” cried the taller boy of the pair behind Boq, sounding shocked. “You hear that, Tibbs? A girl knows who our Boq is! It’s a miracle!”
Elphaba’s gaze shot up. “Who are you?”
Boq opened his mouth to speak, but the boys swept forward before he had the chance to. “Crope, at your service,” said the taller boy, batting his eyelashes, and was that eyeliner? “And this stunning creature next to me is Tibbett.”
Tibbett waved with a wink, his golden coils of hair still managing to glint in the overcast light of the day. “A pleasure to meet you,” he simpered, bowing dramatically.
Elphaba stared at them. So, Shiz was not free of its share of oddities.
“Say, what a gorgeous shade your skin is!” Crope crowed, clapping his hands together. “Why, like a verdant emerald.”
Elphaba’s guard shuttered back into place. “If you three came here to mock me, I’m afraid you will have to find another time. I’m busy.”
Boq paled and shot Crope a withering look. “He didn’t mean anything by that,” he said quickly. “I’m sorry, Miss Elphaba—“
“Just Elphaba. Enough with the 'Miss' business.”
“Right, right. But it’s been such a long time since I’ve seen you—boys, she was my playmate back when we were children. You haven’t changed one bit, Elphaba. Still just as fanged as ever.”
“Not as much, actually,” Elphaba said. “The fangs fell out with my baby teeth.”
“I like her,” said Tibbett. “Can we keep her?”
Elphaba recoiled. “I am not for anyone to keep,” she hissed. “Now, really, boys, I do have things to attend to, and I’m afraid I would like to attend to them alone. Master Boq, it was good to see you again, but you must know you will be relentlessly harassed if you’re seen acting all friendly to me. For both of our good, leave me alone.”
“Wait, Elphaba—“
“Goodbye,” she said, dodging Boq’s hand reaching for her wrist. She would’ve smacked him if he managed to make contact, anyway. A look of disappointed crossed his face, but she ignored it in favor of heading towards her true destination.
It was for his own good, she reasoned. Besides, he seemed to have other friends. He would make do. The last thing he needed was her little blonde idiot of a roommate catching sight of them and whispering some new rumor into existence.
She tried not to think about the mirrored disappointment curling through her gut, too.
Notes:
boq is back with my favorite bookverse boys! AND WE FINALLY GOT GALINDA IN HERE! they're definitely not just really into each other and very angry about it lol
kazberries on Chapter 1 Fri 07 Mar 2025 09:28PM UTC
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