Chapter 1
The country air, fresh and unpolluted, blew past the gather crowds of munchkins as they watched, enamored at their glorious Queen Ozma, who deigned to make it this far into Munchkin country. Even in the town square, where the yellow brick road swirled into oblivion, there was very little to nothing of note. The homes were something that could only be described as a rich man's hovel. The straw layered atop the wooden roofs, acting as a poor insulator, but enough to get through the winter.
The nicest house in the Colwen Grounds was the Governor's Mansion, fifteen minutes from the edge of town. It was in the exact opposite direction of town from the train station, which made it so most prominent political visitors never had to step foot near what was essentially the truth of most of the outer territories of Oz. They were nothingness, forgotten and lowly, only ever cared for by the officials of Oz for the resources they provided.
Elphaba watched from the shadow's backstage as the Vinkun royal family shook hands with Melena the second and Lord Nipp the third, the current Eminent Thropp and the current Lord of the Dragon Cupboard. Their marriage had solidified the tension between Thropp loyalists and those who denounced the rule of the Wicked Witches' family. The whole ceremony was supposed to be some big announcement of peace, that the rising tensions between the Vinkun and Munchkin countries had been settled by the Emerald territory, as was its purpose. Elphaba knew that this changed very little. The East and West with their opposing political and religious views and starkly different cultures would never truly find common ground.
When Ozma finally made her way off the stage to an eruption of claps from the Munchkins, Elphaba took a deep breath, finding the Queen besieged by people behind the scenes, from those who wanted to talk to her sheerly due to her fame, to activists who had political agendas they wanted to push.
It continued like that all the way to the train station. Elphaba stood in the back of the crowd, a hat and light sweater making her almost undisguisable between the rest of the munchkins, who had in the last two hundred years, gained regular height stature after intermingling with much of the quadling population. The ruling class in the east was none too happy about the development, being unable to tell who was descended from the "true" upper class and who was little more than a commoner with quadling blood.
The small train station was overpacked, and it took Elphaba forever to make her way towards the front of the train. The way she was dressed, someone might very well assume she was a railroad worker and not a passenger, which was preferred considering the first half of the train was reserved for royal, rich, and famous. Still, the shoving against shoulders on the platform was uncomfortable. The creaking wood under her feet, the screams, boos and cheers, the tiny swishing sounds of flags, ringing of bells, and shaking of noise makers, all the rough sensation of being shoved every which way had Elphaba more off kilter than she was willing to admit. Enough so that when she went to step between the platform and train, the bottom of her foot slip. The sharp jolt in her chest as her foot descended into the crack had her in a frozen grip, unable to keep herself from falling further.
Then she stooped, her body stilled by two strong arms pulling her upwards till her foot was firmly grounded on the train station platform. She turned briefly, catching blue eyes staring down at her. The tan shade of his skin, darker than the average munchkin farmer was a standard vinkun trait, given the long stretches of plains and land without shade. The man who held her, in his blue and yellow military uniform took away any sense of doubt, as it was the uniform of the western region's army. She remembered her own days in the land so distinct from the rest of Oz, how the traveling caravan she made her way round with, and the ridiculous carnival they put on. The mountain region surrounded by the great orchard, which provided almost all of the territories tree-grown fruits and nuts, had the largest groups of settled Vinkun. Despite the changing times, many Vinkun tribes still lived a nomadic lifestyle. It made it rather hard for a traveling show, and so they didn't stay very long.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his accent flat and smooth, though intimidating all the same.
Elphaba found that was true of most men in uniform, even if it was mostly ceremonial.
"Yes," she responded rather coldly, stepping back and away from his light grip. "Thank you for the assistance."
Before he had so much as a second to react, Elphaba made her way into the train, walking up the few empty cars, her hands pushing against the chairs in sets of fours, tables in between them. Only one car before the front-most car was a single space. The smell of strong coffee grounds and dates hit her nose. The deep shades of yellows, greens, and blue that covered the wall and furniture, along with the intricate repeating flowery and geometric figures spoke to this being the car of the Vinkun royal family. Elphaba thanked whatever cosmic higher power there might be that the family was not in the car at the moment, as explaining why a seemingly nobody was making their way through them to get to Ozma's car was not something she felt the urge to explain.
Finally, she made it to the front of the train, opening the door to find Ozma, laying against the couch that lined the windows of the train. She had already stripped out of her fairy-esque dress in favor of a simple white cotton shirt and beige pants. An outfit the queen usually favored when acting as Tipperius, her male form.
"Took you long enough," she mumbled as she sipped amber liquid. "I was beginning to worry that you were trampled by the crowds."
"I almost had been," Elphaba sighed, "My foot went straight down the platform, until one of the Vinkun soldiers caught me."
Ozma snapped her head up at the comment as Elphaba threw her coat against the opposite couch, revealing the plain long-sleeved shirt, the tops of her hands covered in fabric, lines of tiny white gems along the edges. with a hem line that fell to the top of her thighs, covering the tops of her black pants. They were tucked into brown boots, working class boots, that she wore more often than not. It was plain, the only thing of note being the necklace that rested against her chest, nothing more than a piece of green glass carved into a diamond encased in silver. Ozma couldn't remember a day the girl wasn't wearing the simple piece, though more often than not it was tucked away.
"I never thought I'd see the day Elphaba admitted she was saved by… well by anyone really."
Elphaba fell against the couch, her head leaning against the arm rest. Better to say nothing at all then to agree or disagree. The conversation that might ensue would be worse than the uncomfortable feeling that sunk in chest when she thought about the man's hands around her. How vulnerable she had been, if even for the briefest second. The train jolted forward, and Ozma could tell that the conversation had been left behind, much like the station.
"You should shift your form," Elphaba reminded Ozma. "On the off chance some idiot actually tries to kill you."
"I'm quite certain you would kill them first."
To Ozma, it was nothing more than a joke. So often when they had traveled, Elphaba had been something of a protector. Her magic, unstable as it was at the time, was strong, and had been helpful to two young children running around strange cities. That was until they ran into Lox, and even an adolescent lion was a more terrifying prospect than a witchling without training.
For Elphaba though, such words seared deep into her soul. It was a horrid thing, to watch a life faded, to see it in real time and know there was nothing you could do to stop it, let alone be the one to cause it. There was no comedy in Ozma's words, and certainly no lies.
"I've upset you again."
"Don't take it personally," Elphaba answered. "It is exceptionally easy to put me in foul mood. Here more so than most places."
A horrible quite grew amongst them. Ozma didn't know much about Elphaba's time in Munchkinland, nor did she even know this territory was her old stomping grounds. All she was aware of was the Western Witch requesting her protégé join Ozma on her trip to the East, reasoning it would be 'good for her,' whatever that meant.
"Why does this place upset you so, Phabala?" Ozma said.
Elphaba merely shook her head, closing her eyes. It was as if she couldn't see Ozma, then her question did not exist at all. The Queen knew better than to push. Instead, she decided to take her friend's advice when it came to the body she was traveling in. The silence filled the train car in a way that might have felt terrible for most, but traveling with Elphaba was no new occurrence for Ozma, and she understood that sometimes her friend needed nothing more than the quiet to still her mind of all the dark things that lurked in its depths.
"I saw them," Elphaba finally spoke, quite as a mouse. "My family. Birth family, that is. They didn't recognize me, probably for the best. My father always did hate me causing a scene. My little brother, he was barely three when I left. In a year he'll be off, studying at some grand university. I doubt he even remembers me."
Ozma looked back at Elphaba, an understanding in between the two. Nothing of this would ever be spoken of outside the car. It was something Elphaba would leave behind her once more. There was no use looking back when the future ahead was maybe brighter.
"Their loss," Ozma replied almost sincerely, before returning to her usual playfulness. "And all the better for me."
The ferocious snort that came from Elphaba at the words, followed by a string of laughs, was inevitable. It was a reminder that she truly needed. That she was wanted and loved, even if it was by a sparce few. It was enough though, to clear away the grey skies in her mind and replace them with an emerging light.
"I'd say the same to you, but you truly are a hellion to be around."
Such a statement pulled a similar laugh out of Ozma. This is how it had been for so very long, and how Elphaba wanted it to be for a good time longer. Her bones ached whenever she wished such a thing, as if warning her not to entertain such hopes.
The rest of their conversation was ideal chats about whatever ball Ozma had attended recently, and Elphaba's tutelage and how it was progressing. Simple things, bits of their lives, small things that tended to slip through the cracks, but were important, nonetheless.
They continued like this until Elphaba started to yawn, her eyes dropping and her voice quieting. It didn't take long for her to fall asleep on the velvety couch, little more than a snore coming from her mouth.
A ghastly scream echoed through the front cars. A scream so harsh it was as if one could feel the very pain that caused it emanating from the very sound. Elphaba, a light sleeper by nature, bolted from her sleep on the couch. Ozma was already starring at the door to the car behind them. Between the screams there was spaces, a few seconds at least, a minute or two at most. A sickening feeling settled in Elphaba's gut. The fact that she had heard screams like these before, and new the outcome was rarely favorable.
In a different world, a world where Elphaba's magic was sparse or non-existent, she may have shaken the unsettling feeling sweeping over her. They were not in a different world though, and this uneasiness was nothing to shrink off. Every time the bone chilling feeling came over Elphaba, something bad came to fruition. Something bad being the polite way to say death followed.
"It's the Vinkun Queen, she's gone into early labor," Ozma stated.
Rain might very well kill the young witch for forgetting such a thing, after all this was the royal family of the area she was primed to take over. So distracted by her own family though, Elphaba only noticed the blatantly obvious traits of the Vinkun royals. The chestnut brown of the King's beard, and his yellow-tinted skin, an ochre shade common among the Vinkun. It was one that perpetuated throughout the deeper areas of the Vinkun and common in the Arijkian tribe . His wife, the Queen, was Scrow. The tribe was known for its greater likeness to the rest of Oz, having traveled around the borders, and much more open in accepting outsiders and strangers than the tribes deeper in the Vinkus. The queen looked almost Upper Gilkin, with light olive skin and grey eyes.
If Elphaba was being honest, she hadn't bother to take in any other details than that. She couldn't even properly piece together the Woman's face from memory. She couldn't even manage any details of the prince, other than the fact that he was vaguely in his twenties and shared his mother's complexation, if not a slight bit darker. With all the layers of fabric and tulle, it was no question how Elphaba hadn't remembered that she was pregnant.
Now she stared at the car door, the echoing screams burying themselves deep in her ears, sinking into the pit of her stomach. It was like sitting in front of the bedroom door, after all this time, small and helpless to do anything. Except she wasn't powerless anymore. That little girl, timid and eager to please, so very scared of blood and violence, she had long since died.
It took no more than the raising of Elphaba's hand to have her spell book fly straight from her bag to sturdy in her grasp. The impact hand her arm swing slightly backwards and the skin of her palm stinging, though she had gotten used to the feeling years ago.
"Phabala, whatever you are thinking-"
"Don't do it?"
Green eyes looked up at Ozma. They raged like fire, not out of anger or fear, but of determination. Elphaba had already decided the course of action she would take and would not let anyone tell her otherwise. Ozma sighed, knowing the look on the witch's face all too well.
"I'm not so dull as to believe such words might have any bearing on you," Ozma retorted. "But you aren't supposed to use strong magic without permission. Anything you do here will come at a cost."
Elphaba was used to hearing such things. Now though, she couldn't be bothered with the thought when she could do something, that she could save a life, if not two, if she acted now. Then there was the darker thought in her mind. What kind of person would she be if she had the ability to do something and did nothing at all, simply because she was scared of an uncertain consequence. If Rain or any of the other cardinal witches wanted to hang her for such a choice, the Oz was no place she'd be content to live in.
She flipped through the pages, unsure of what spell to use. There were healing spells, spells for pain, for luck and happiness, but not specific spells for birth. She could try to make one up on the spot, but that was unpredictable at best, deadly at worst.
Mentally the young witch berated herself. She could hear the pained screams, the faintness of them from lack of strength. Whatever complications had arisen, they were worsening. Time was not a commodity she could afford.
"Fac a malo secura, fac salutem et robur. Fac a malo secura, fac salutem et robur" Elphaba repeated the words, like some long-forgotten prayer. Ozma watched as the green lines across her body faintly glowed green, the only sign that the magic inside her began to stir. "Fac a malo secura, fac-"
The words disappeared as a pain surged through Elphaba. It felt like all the air in her lungs had been pushed from her body. A cold darkness crept inside her, biting at her flesh, gnawing on her bones, eating away at the magical energy the dwelled deep within her.
"Elphaba!" Ozma yelled, reaching out to her, but unable to touch.
It was like a fog existed between the two, thick enough to cloud the area around Elphaba, making any movement towards the witch feel like trying to push through mud or quicksand. The more Ozma fought the more stuck the became.
Shaking, Elphaba closed her eyes. Baring her teeth together, her jaw tightened. Pain wasn't new, nor was the sheer determination of her will. She pushed against the darkness, letting her skin and bones be ripped and torn, but not her magic. That was hers, and only she decided what was to be done with it.
"-Salutem et robur. Fac a malo secura, fac salutem et robur. Fac a malo secura, fac salutem et robur."
It felt like every part of Elphaba was fading as she spoke, like ice itself was running through her veins. Her spell, it was working though. Wherever the darkness had emerged from, it slowly began to return to. The screaming slowly subsided. What were once cries of a mother in pain, not sure if she or her child would live, were replaced with the wailing of a newborn baby.
"Phabala?" Ozma said, finally able to touch her. "Are you okay?"
Elphaba turned to her friend, seeing the worry in Ozma's eyes. She gave her a smug smile, as if to say, I know what I'm doing. Ozma smiled back, a laugh of disbelief about to bubble from her throat. Then Elphaba eyes went blank, the structure of her body disappearing as her head landed square in Ozma's lap.