Author's Note: Hey all, I just want to say a few things before I post this. First off, this fic is set in musical verse (therefore, Nessarose is not religious) and, with the exception of a few changes to the dialogue and the ending scene coming up, it is based quite strictly off of the canon. I do tend to write Elphaba's personality as more book verse, however, and Nanny does exist in this story, but those are the only differences for now.

Nessarose has always been such a great, underrated character to me, and my goals in writing this are to get more people to analyze deeper into her being. She is not a simple side character. She is extremely important to the story and very complex. If I get at least one person to see that, I will have succeeded.

Happy reading.

Elphaba peered down into the infant basket, her eyes vivid; full of questioning and inquisitiveness. What the toddler saw inside stunned her like no other. A baby, no larger than a small cat - for Elphaba had seen (and impersonated) many wild cats alike in the cornfields - asleep, her breathing somewhat brisk and labored . . . her little legs out at a funny angle, wrapped and unmoving in her slumber. Elphaba crinkled her brow. She was . . . a different color than her. The right color.

And she was more beautiful than anything she had ever seen.

Frex, who had allowed Elphaba a few moments to look upon his new infant daughter, finally spoke, his tone stoic and a bit crisp, his face showing traces of age. "This is Nessarose, Elphaba; my daughter. Your . . . sister. She is very delicate. Not a plaything. You are not to touch or play with her, and you are not to go near her without my permission. Do you understand?" He looked at her severely; Elphaba met his gaze, but said nothing in response; only giving him a bit of a challenging expression. "She is not to be played with." Elphaba held his glance for a few moments longer, and then looked back down at the baby once again, far more fascinated with her than with her father's harsh tone.

She reached down, slowly, her green wrist contrasting against the covers within the basket. She wanted to touch this strange, new person - see if she was really alive. But Frex tapped her hand, a bit roughly, and shook his head. "I just said no, Elphaba!"

"What's she up to, Frex - where is the little frog?" Nanny was heard before she was seen, and she suddenly came hobbling into the room. She stopped instantly upon noticing the baby, her eyes widening.

Frex shook his head, as if he knew what was coming. "She's asleep; that's all she's been doing since I took a leave for home. Don't wake her."

Nanny, edging closer to the basket next to Elphaba, leaned down, and peered in. Still taken with the infant, Elphaba did the same, her green fingers gripping the edges.

". . . Her legs . . . always going to be like that?" Nanny asked Frex, looking up after a few moments.

"Yes. They are completely unusable to her and always will be, according to the midwife." He sounded exhausted. Elphaba blinked owlishly at those words.

Nanny tsked. "The poor duckie."

She met Frex's sad eyes and smiled painfully.

"Well, don't worry yourself Frex, it will work out alright!" She said, walking away from the basket and toward him to give him a light, supportive tap on the shoulder. Frex did not look up. The old woman smiled and continued to speak. "Despite the situation the poor dear's lucky to be alive at all! You've still got her, we all do! And she's a beaut, an absolute dearie - why, she's got Melena's cheeks, I can see that already."

Frex seemed pained by the mention of Melena, but nodded. "She is our child in most every way."

They continued to speak about Nessa's living arrangements for a while, both adults feeling saddened and overwhelmed . . . hollow, really. A new baby should be a blessing, but a handicapped one seemed less a cause of celebration to Frex, and an absent mother . . . Nanny was making light of it all, but he could see through her fallacy; she was just as doubtful as he. At least, he thought, the child was not green. Handicapped. But not green.

Elphaba was paying them no mind. Instead, she had seated herself next to the basket, studying Nessarose as if she were a new species of animal. Realizing that she was no longer being watched, she reached down into the basket to run a finger over the sleeping child; her touch was so light that it did not wake her. Nessa's skin felt smooth and soft, unlike any human she had ever touched, and even though she appeared weak, Elphaba felt a strange sensation - as if there was buried, unknown power radiating from their contact.

Nessa.

Nanny and Frex had wandered toward the far corners of the room, their backs turned to the children, discussing in fervent, hushed voices what ought to be done.

"She is to sleep in the master chambers, close to me. I do not want any harm to be brought upon her. She is defenseless."

"All babies are defenseless, Frex," Nanny croaked sympathetically; reasonably.

"She is more so. She will remain by my side at all times, and that is final."

"And where will Elphaba sleep, then? That is her room, or have you forgotten."

"Where ever she likes." Frex seemed to curl his lip. "Elphaba does not hold discretion over where she sleeps, Nanny; the child would curl up in the arms of a wolf in the yard."

"And just as well," Nanny said, almost laughing. "She loves those wolves, she does."

"This is not about Elphaba! This is about Nessa, my daughter, Nessa. I cannot take care of a handicapped child alone, Nanny; I cannot. What of me if something happens to her? I cannot protect her alone."

"You can, you can! I will be here to help you, Frex; come off it, you're scaring yourself."

Frex brought his palm to his forehead, closing his eyes. "I already feel as though I've failed."

Nanny didn't speak for a moment; she felt, quite frankly, that perhaps he had. It was not the best start, after all.

"Melena is dead. My little Nessarose is disabled. She can barely cry."

"She's alive," Nanny repeated smoothly.

"And I don't want Elphaba anywhere near her," Frex said, suddenly angry, lifting his head away from his hand. "That child will break her as quickly as she breaks anything I give her, the way she plays. Like the devil. You keep her away from Nessa."

"Shhh, Frex. The kiddies have ears, you know," Nanny said, simply, patting his arm with a bit of indifference. "That's rubbish talk. Elphaba is her sister."

"Elphaba is half dragon."

"Well, Melena would have wanted it."

Frex's eyes became intense. "How should you know what Melena wants?"

"Oh, Frex; don't be a ninny. Times are hard, but you have your poppets, don't you? Things will straighten up! Now pull yourself together, you look like a bit of a fool there; governor of Munchkinland cannot have scruff, can he now? Yes, you listen to me, wise old Frex - I know beyond my years and THAT is many - that child is going to grow up loved like no other, as if she had no disability, as if she were just like the rest, if you know what is good for you. You never showed this type of concern for Elphaba, and look how she's turning out now."

Frex seemed distracted, nodding off into the distance as he glanced quickly at Elphaba. "Nessarose is our child in every way," he repeated, reflecting his previous statement.

"Mother."

"And furthermore-" Nanny stopped, mid sentence, surprised at the sudden voice. She looked behind her; Frex followed her gaze.

Little Elphaba had toddled up to them, her eyes narrowed in intense wonder; innocent wonder, but one could tell she did indeed know something was off. The two adults watched her for a moment; she spoke again.

"Where is… mother?" She tried, more courageously this time.

Nanny walked forward a bit, stopped in front of Elphaba, and told her the truth.

"Your mother is not coming home, dearie."

"Don't you dare tell her-" Frex was leering at Nanny.

"Oh, what's the sense in hiding the truth from her? Children have to learn, Frex," Nanny continued, calmly. "Your mother is asleep with the fishies, duckie."

Elphaba squinted more, not understanding the metaphor. "Why?" She decided on.

"She's dead, little frog. Gone. Buried."

"Yes," Frex finally spoke. "Yes . . . Melena is . . . dead."

Elphaba blinked, and looked from one adult to the other.

Frex was still glaring, viciously, at his own words, but this time, his subject was not Nanny.

It was Elphaba.