Chapter Text
Dulcibear’s rosebushes had died a long time ago.
It hurt Elphaba to see her former place of refuge reduced to dry grass and wilting plants. A muttered spell had a few of the flowers perking up.
“Rough times,” Fiyero muttered, a hand resting on his gun. They had spied a group of the Wizard’s soldiers patrolling the gates of Munchkinland. All were Gale Force men, which meant they were out looking for Elphaba.
No doubt they suspected she might return to conspire with her sister.
It only took a wave of her hand and the back door clicked open. Fiyero went first, weapon raised. She might have laughed at the seriousness written on his handsome face, were the situation not so dire.
She had to save Glinda, no matter what. She knew better than anyone what Morrible was like, how the old witch had likely forced Glinda into the marriage, and with a creaky old toad at that!
Fiyero’s explanation made sense. Keep control of the Good Witch, you keep control of the people. Elphaba would never forgive herself if her best friend, as much as said best friend might despise her, was forced to give up her light, her happiness, just to be a pawn in the Wizard’s games.
So she would free her. And, if Nessa could find it somewhere in her cold heart, she would come to Munchkinland, the furthest part of Oz. Here, she would be safe.
Every hall they passed was empty. Strange, Elphaba mused. Usually, there were servants bustling about the place.
The Governor’s study was at the front of the mansion, as it had always been. An odd feeling of déjà vu washed over her as she approached the closed door. As a child, that door had meant bracing herself for verbal lashings, the disapproving gaze of her father, even a tight grip on her skinny arm.
But Father was dead now.
Inside, a lone figure sat at the fireplace, her brown eyes staring into the flames as if they held all the answers to her life.
“I didn’t ask for tea, Avaric,” Nessa snapped.
“My bad,” Elphaba replied.
Her sister’s head snapped to the side, her face draining of color.
“You.”
“Me.”
It was quiet for a moment, until Elphaba felt Fiyero peering around her shoulder. “We’d best go in, love, in case someone sees us.”
She looked for Nessa’s nod of approval, but the Governor had turned away. So she entered, noting the unchanging décor from the last time she had been in here.
“What are you doing here?” Nessa demanded, wheeling to the center of the room.
Elphaba snorted as Fiyero closed the door quietly behind them. “Good to see you too.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“I need a favor.”
Her sister glared openly. “Do you actually expect me to help you?”
“Well, considering the first thing you did after four years was to try and get me arrested, yeah, I do,” she shot back.
It was a low blow, and Nessa flinched. “If I didn’t, they would have accused me of helping you.”
Now Elphaba laughed, dark and bitter. “Right, my mistake.”
“Why are you being like this?”
“Like what?”
“So angry!”
“Because I am!” she exclaimed. Faintly, she could hear Fiyero blowing out a breath. Smart of him to keep a distance. “I’m mad that I had to learn of our father’s death from the newspapers, I’m mad that you banned Animal travel into Munchkinland, and, if we’re being honest, I’m downright furious that you have the nerve to be upset with me.”
Nessa shook her head furiously. “You abandoned me, Elphaba.”
“I found out the truth about the Wizard. Would you have believed me?”
That got her. Her face changed into one of unacknowledged guilt. “No, I wouldn’t have.”
Elphaba held out both arms. “Exactly. I couldn’t go back to you and Father, he’d have probably had me arrested, just to be rid of me.”
“That’s a wicked thing to say,” Nessa cried.
“No, it’s just true.”
And it was. Their father hated Elphaba, always had. It was a tough pill to swallow, but she’d managed to take it a while ago.
Even Nessa couldn’t deny it. “Just ask your favor.”
“Glinda’s getting married.”
Her sister’s gaze shifted into something like both dislike and confusion. “So?”
Elphaba switched her broom from one hand to the other. “It’s a political marriage. Ever heard of Pastorious Chuffrey?”
“That old fool?” Nessa snorted. “He offered to outright buy Rush Margins after the mayor’s death.”
Only a moron tried to win over the people of Rush Margins. They were a rather tenacious group. “That’s who she’s marrying.”
“Is she crazy?”
“No, she’s being forced into it by Morrible.”
Nessa’s mouth puckered. “I never liked her anyway. But what does that have to do with me?”
Elphaba turned to Fiyero, who was pointedly admiring a terrarium against the window. “Yero, your turn.”
“Right,” he said, clearing his throat. “We’re going to get her out of there. Her rooms are one of the highest points of the palace, so there’s no risk of being spotted by the Monkeys. We get in, find her, and we’re out, just like that.”
The Governor considered his words for a moment. “And me?”
“We need somewhere for her to hide afterward,” Elphaba explained. “I was hoping you’d offer the storm cellar.”
Their father, always a paranoid man, had installed a cellar beneath the house in case of a twister. It was equipped with all the basic necessities, and its existence was known only by the Thropp family.
Nessa leaned her head back against her chair. “You’re asking me to make a huge risk.”
“I know, and I’m sorry for it,” she answered honestly, her former anger forgotten.
“But why can’t you hide her?”
“Um…”
Oh boy. This was going to be hard to explain.
Fiyero placed a reassuring hand on Elphaba’s back. “We won’t have the room. At least not after a few months.”
Nessa frowned. “I don’t follow.”
“Might as well,” he whispered to Elphaba, who frowned.
“Are you sure?”
“Only if you are.”
Well, she couldn’t really deny her kid their aunt.
Slowly, Elphaba undid the buttons of her coat, which had gracefully hidden the bump. Now, she let it fall against the sofa.
It was quiet for a clock-tick as Nessa’s face went from shock, then to complete and utter devastation.
“Fabala…”
At the old nickname, Elphaba’s eyes watered. “So you see why I came to you.”
There were tears in her sister’s eyes. “How-how far are you?”
“Four months, give or take.”
“Do you know…can you tell…”
She smiled softly. “No, I don’t know.”
Nessa’s hand went to her mouth. “Holy Lurline, Fabala.”
“Yeah, yell me about it.”
“And you,” she said to Fiyero, “you ran away for her?”
Without hesitation, he nodded. “Yes, and I would do it again, no matter what.”
Elphaba knew that he meant it. In that moment, she wasn’t sure anyone had ever loved another person more than she loved him.
Nessa let out a low huff. Her eyes met her sister’s, and she held up a hand. “May I?”
“You won’t feel anything,” Elphaba shrugged, “but sure.”
It was an odd sensation, having someone other than Fiyero touching her. But this was her baby sister, her Nessie, as she called Nessa when they were little. This was the girl she would sing to sleep during thunderstorms or read to out in the garden on days when their father’s grief for his dead wife made him unbearable to be around.
For all their differences, Elphaba had missed her.
Nessa lifted her hand from her sister’s stomach, and she was smiling. “So I’m going to be an aunt?”
“You are.”
“I thought you hated children?”
At that, Fiyero lifted a brow.
Elphaba gave him a playful swat on the arm. “I never hated them, I was simply…unaffectionate. And it’s different when you’re going to have one of your own.”
Nessa opened her mouth, no doubt to tell her older sister that she was a downright rotten liar.
Then the door opened.