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If there was one thing Elphaba knew well; it was the concept of not belonging. The fate of an outcast was one thrust upon her from the second was born. It was hard to fit into a mould when everything about you stuck out against it, and green skin certainly stuck out. It marked her as something other, and it was hardly as if the Munchkins she grew up surrounded by were known for their open-mindedness. They had an expected view of the world - not that it was one that Elphaba ever understood. Why have a metaphorical box when you knew everything couldn’t possibly fit inside?
Perhaps if she only had green skin, she still could have found her way past it; found a way to belong but fate had not decided to be so kind. Her second transgression came in the form of her magic. Elphaba couldn’t remember when exactly it had started; only that strange tricks and spellcasting were just as easy as breathing - just as instinctual. As wonderful as a gift as it was, it only served to isolate her further. Just another reason for the other children to avoid her or for her to become too aware of the whispers that occurred as she passed people on the street.
The third transgression was one she held no hand in but was blamed for nonetheless. Nessarose and the death of her mother. So fearful of another child turning out as she had (and didn’t that hurt to hear?), her parents had done all that they could to ensure their second child would not endure the horrors of their first. But as with all things, it came with a cost. Her mother died in childbirth and Nessa… Nessa would never work because of the fear that anyone could possibly end up like Elphaba.
The fourth was… odd - somehow odder than the rest. Elphaba’s memories always seemed to come in pairs; ones of the present and ones of a past she was certain couldn’t be her own. But more memories came and came and came - so many that she was certain they stretched far beyond the life she had already lived. The life of another green skinned Elphaba and the way her gifts were twisted until she was left as a villain in the minds of so many; judged and condemned for the things about herself she could not change.
For a while, Elphaba had convinced herself the memories were vivid dreams or the result of an overactive imagination. They couldn’t be real. She had a life that wasn’t lost in the past. That was, of course, until a passage in a history book caught her eye. It was one that would haunt her for years to come. All names were erased but it talked of a wretched evil; the green skinned Wicked Witch of the West destined to destroy Oz and all those that resided within it. That was, of course, until she was defeated by a girl in ruby slippers nd her allies. One in particular made her heart ache.
The Good Witch.
Galinda Upland.
Glinda.
The memories came tumbling full force at that. Roommates and rivals. Until that rivalry gave way to friendship. Until that friendship grew strained by their own ideals, but never broken. Not even at the very end. Of all the ways that friendship bordered on something more that both were too scared to reach for her. After all, wasn't it easier to claim she was jealous of the way Fiyero loved Glinda than to claim the reverse?
Her past life twisted around her current one like ivy clinging to an old house; threatening to damage it until it fell apart. Names and faces that should have belonged to strangers were painfully familiar. Like clockwork, a man claiming to be a Wizard from another world ruled over Oz - perhaps harbouring the same secrets as his predecessor so long ago. The sinking feeling she felt when her father announced that she was to join her sister at Shiz University - if only to be Nessa’s unofficial caregiver once more.
The first thing Elphaba did was begin to plan out all the different ways she could argue that she should share a dorm with her sister; all the ways she shouldn’t be roomed with the blonde girl that had filled her thoughts for years. Not that she needed to have worried, it seemed Madame Morrible was just as eager to keep her away from Glinda. Elphaba knew deep down that Morrible had recognised her the second the two met but had instead feigned ignorance. After all, she wasn’t the Wicked Witch of the West just yet. She was just Elphaba Thropp; bright eyed, magical, and ready to learn; a girl who by all means shouldn’t have been disillusioned to the world just yet.
For better or for worse, Fiyero didn’t hold a glimmer of recognition in his eyes when he saw her again. But there was a softness in his eyes still, easy to spot for those that knew how to look for it; a reminder that he was so much more than the façade he built himself around. Though, even if she refused to engage with it, history seemed to repeat itself once more. Someone would have to be a complete fool to be oblivious to the way Fiyero looked at Glinda or the charm that practically oozed from his voice whenever he was in her presence. But there was one thing wrong with the story this time.
Glinda never returned even an ounce of his romantic intent.
And she was Glinda - that was an insistence she’d made from the start of her time at Shiz, claiming she needed a nickname to represent her ‘new start’ there! Even if the smile that accompanied the words hadn’t met her eyes. Not that Elphaba had been watching, of course. It was almost ironic really. Whilst Glinda kept herself blind to Fiyero’s intentions, the once Good Witch’s eyes always seemed to scan through the crowds of students. It was as if she was looking for something or someone. Perhaps she was looking for an escape from conversation or perhaps… perhaps she was looking for something else entirely.
A friend.
A best friend.
A foe.
A something.
But Elphaba knew better than to indulge in wishful thinking. Or at least, she thought she did. Until, after the end of her final class for the day, Elphaba found herself tugged into an empty classroom.
Her hands squeezed into fists, already ready to let loose the unstable power that seemed to define her to her core, when the painfully familiar voice filled the air. “Elphaba Thropp, you’ve been avoiding me.” Glinda raised an eyebrow at her. Well? Where’s my explanation?” Just as demanding and assertive as she remembered.
“I-“ Elphaba tried to explain before letting the words die in her throat. Every possible explanation she had fell more into the realm of excuse than it did anything of worth. “…There are some parts of history that should never be repeated. Some stories shouldn’t be retold.”
Glinda’s expression softened from an accusatory one to one far more tender . It reminded Elphaba of all those little moments hidden away that each had sworn never to tell another soul about. “Elphie…” It was silly that something as simple as a nickname filled her lonely heart with so much warmth. “Things will be different this time. I won’t let them end like they did before. We won’t let them.” She swallowed harshly. “I won’t lose you again.”
It was as Elphaba simply… stared at Glinda that something odd caught her eye. Alongside the pink that defined her former roommate’s attire so brightly were the smallest pieces of green added so easily that they were hard to miss. But they were there. Glinda hadn’t let go of green. And as the other girl pulled her into her arms, Elphaba didn’t want to let go of pink either.
“I just… accepted the memories when they started. Just something else to add to the list of things that made me stand out.” Elphaba - Elphie - could barely bring her voice above a whisper. “Memories of a tragedy I seemed doomed to repeat.”
“I thought I was going crazy.” Glinda laughed , pulling back from the hug enough that her eyes could meet Elphaba’s. “No one else seemed to understand what I meant. Fiyero had no idea who I was. I was starting to think I made it all up. Until I realised I hadn’t met one student in our class; as if she was doing everything to avoid me.” She smiled that smile that had always left Elphaba’s stomach in knots. “Yet here you are. Just as much of a handprint on my heart.”
“Here I am.” Elphaba echoed the words, “And I’m not going anywhere.”