Disclaimer: I don't own Wicked, I just wish I did. I also don't own Mattel or the patent on the Mailbu Barbie doll. I did have one once, and I think it's in pieces somewhere in the attic.
Author's Note: This is my first Wicked fic, and my first real attempt (meaning it's neither a oneshot nor a school project run amok) at writing fanfiction without my pal Silver's help. I always wanted to write a fic about Elphie and Nessa as kids, and I needed an outlet for my fandom so it wouldn't adversely affect my grades. Thus, this story happened to get itself written somehow.
Daddy's Little Angel
Chapter 1: A Word from the Wizard
Frexspar Thropp sighed as he examined the heaping pile of paperwork scattered over the surface of his desk. Although being the governor of Munchkinland was a demanding profession, nothing in Oz could possibly be as daunting as the task that lay before him at the moment.
He was in the midst of paying off the credit card debt on his youngest daughter's toys.
As the governor sorted through stacks of Oz Express Platinum card bills dating back as far as Nessarose's third birthday, the thought to perhaps say "no" to his favorite child once in a while did cross his mind—very briefly, mind you, but the concept did surface--but in the end, as always, he just went along racking up more and more debt, putting the state of Munchkinland into even greater financial turmoil. As he wrote what seemed like his thousandth check to the Oz Express Platinum card company, his eyes fell upon an emerald green envelope stacked haphazardly between the bills. "Great… the way things are going, the Wizard himself has probably found out about this economic disaster the town's in and wants to boot me out of office!" He grumbled, tearing the envelope open and pulling out a matching sheet of paper.
The letterhead read, "Emerald City Department of Child Welfare." Frex, wondering why he would receive such a document at all, read on. Perhaps he'd spent too much on Nessa's toys after all.
However, such was not the case. "To whom it may concern: " He read aloud to no one in particular. "You have been sent this letter in regard to a phone call we have received concerning the well-being of your eldest daughter, Miss Elphaba Thropp (age eleven). The caller, who wished to remain anonymous, documented several cases of negligence on your part, as well as what was described to us as 'physical repulsion as a result of a highly rare and unusual condition,' which according to our records has afflicted the aforementioned child since birth." It took Frex a while to process what he had just read. He pushed the bills aside and continued to scan the text, the color draining from his face as he read what followed.
"Over the next twenty-four hours, we will be closely monitoring your actions in order to assess whether or not you are capable of adequately fathering young Elphaba. Should you fail to pass our inspection, you will be promptly evicted from your mansion, and both of your children will be summarily placed in the custody of their current nursemaid pending your summons to meet with the Wizard regarding said custody arrangements. Have a nice day."
The letter was stamped with the Wizard's official seal. "Is this some kind of joke?" Frex shouted, momentarily forgetting that his daughters were supposed to be asleep. He paced around his study, now completely disregarding the mountain of debt he owed the Oz Express company. "How in Oz's name am I supposed to get myself out of THIS mess?! He grumbled, his thoughts suddenly flashing towards his older, more verdant child, wondering if she weren't the one who placed that anonymous call from the start. Was Elphaba eleven already? He'd lost track of her age long ago, and couldn't even remember the girl's birthday. How would he ever convince the Wonderful Wizard himself that he wasn't neglecting her?
He needed some time to think. That, and a nice cup of coffee.
Meanwhile, upstairs, with Nessarose blissfully snoring on the other size of the room (flanked by more stuffed animals than any child would ever want or need), Elphaba was huddled next to an air vent, intently listening in as her father rattled off a string of profanity at the Emerald City Department of Child Welfare down in the study. All her hard work was finally about to pay off…
The next morning started off relatively normal: Elphaba woke up at the crack of dawn, rushing as fast as she could to run a hairbrush through her hair a couple of times, make her bed as quickly as humanly possible, and pull on a shabby-looking secondhand frock before her eight-year-old sister woke up, instantly demanding all of the older child's attention.
"ELPHABA! Get me my coloring book right now!" Nessarose shouted as loudly as she could. Elphaba, who was in the middle of brushing her teeth, nearly swallowed her toothbrush from the sudden burst of sound.
Elphaba sighed. And so, the insanity begins once again… she thought to herself as she spit the toothpaste foam back into the sink, rinsed the brush off, and plodded into the bedroom. "Nessa, it's eight in the morning. You should probably be more concerned with things like getting dressed and looking oh-so-tragically adorable so Daddy can just go on ignoring me like always." She sarcastically explained as her sister pouted, chucking a stuffed lion off the bed in Elphaba's general direction. Nessa had been aiming for her sister's face, but her aim was horrendously off. It landed somewhere near her own overstocked bureau.
The green child just ignored the blatant threat, marched up to her sister's bed, scooped the spoiled little brat up, and plopped her down into her wheelchair. "You seem crankier than usual. Did you accidentally roll on top of Malibu Barbie again in the middle of the night?"
Nessarose shook her head and declared, "Give me the coloring book or I'll tell Daddy on you!"
"I didn't even do anything!" Elphaba nearly shouted, but her sister just raised an eyebrow as if to say, "You don't need to do anything to get Daddy mad at you. Face it, you've lost." Defeated, Elphaba slinked to the bookshelf and grabbed a coloring book, thrusting it towards the handicapped child.
"I wanted the blue coloring book instead!"
Elphaba mustered every ounce of effort she had to suppress her frustration.
After what seemed like several hours, Elphaba wheeled her sister into the kitchen. Frex had made pancakes that day, and from the smell of things, he'd already burned at least one of them. I think he must burn them on purpose. Elphaba mused to herself, parking her sister in her usual spot.
Nessarose, who'd never had to stomach the charcoal-flavored, botched efforts of Frex's cooking in her entire life, anxiously waited for her father to do an about-face and tell her how tragic and adorable she looked. She was wearing a blue checked jumper over a white blouse (carefully coordinated by Elphaba), with black shoes (shined by Elphaba). Her hair (braided and curled by Elphaba) was in pigtails, tied with blue ribbons (by Elphaba), and all in all she looked just as tragically adorable as…well, as she did every other day of the week.
Elphaba took her own seat and waited with baited breath, hoping that at least the inside of the pancake had been salvaged this time. It was only a matter of moments before Frex would turn around, shower her sister with compliments and affection, leaving the older daughter alone to wallow in solitude eating her charcoal.
Finally, Frex extinguished the stove and turned around. The twisted, contorted, clearly falsified grin plastered onto his face made both girls recoil in shock. It gave them the impression of someone who'd just been forced to swallow a large quantity of dish soap and pretend it tasted like chocolate pudding.
"GOOD MORNING ELPHABA!" The governor all but shouted through his tense, almost psychotic smile. Judging from the dark circles under his eyes, it seemed as though he'd spent hours trying to rehearse the greeting, yet still couldn't figure out how to get it right in time. The result was enough to scare the pants off the Wizard himself. "We're going to have SUCH a GREAT time spending ALL DAY together!"
Elphaba and Nessarose both stared at their father in utter bewilderment, not quite sure as to what to say to such a blatantly fake—and creepy—display of affection. What in Oz's name was going on?