Little Nessarose smiles up at her sister, eyes shining and eager.

“Elphaba,” she says, wheeling her way over to her, “tell me a story.”

The verdant girl smiles, putting away her book. There’s always time for stories…

“Alright. What kind do you want to hear?”

Nessa thinks for a minute, biting her lip in thought. In an instant, for children are spontaneous that way, she perks up and speaks.

“A fairy story! One with a princess and prince! And magic, Elphaba, especially one with magic!”

Elphaba laughs. “That’s pretty vague, Nessa. Any other things you want me to add? This is your story, after all. Make it special, just for you…”

“Give it a ball, Elphaba,” she says seriously, eyes wide as if seeing such a scene before her. “Give it dancing and dresses and love. Especially love.”

Elphaba nods, turning the details in her mind, weaving them into a story worthy of her sister. In a minute, she nods, motioning that she’s ready. Nessarose leans forward in her chair, paying rapt attention.

Elphaba clears her throat and begins.

“Once upon a time, in a moderately-sized kingdom, there was a girl named Rose who lived her life in a wheelchair.”

Nessarose smiles at this; this is a heroine she can relate to.

“She had been crippled from birth, through no fault of her own. Somewhere, as she was born, her legs had gotten tangled. Her mother loved her deeply, though, which made it hurt even more when she passed away soon after her birth.”

Nessa sniffles. “I don’t like this story,” she says suddenly, frowning. It’s too personal, she thinks.

Elphaba nods, ruffling her hair. “The important thing is that she was loved, Nessa. Even if it was for a short time, it was there.”

“Oh…okay, Elphaba. I believe you,” the younger girl says, wiping at her eyes. Having it explained like that makes it make more sense. She decides to give this tale a chance.

“Her father soon remarried to another woman who had two daughters. Their names were Pfannee and Shenshen. While they acted nice to Rose around her father, when they were alone with her they teased her relentlessly, picking on her for being unable to walk.”

Nessarose nods, imagining the cruel girls tormenting her, wondering what she would do in a situation like that.

“Her stepmother even made her do hard chores, disguising cruelty under the pretense of having her contribute to the workload as well.”

“How horrible,” Nessa murmurs.

“For the most part, though, Rose was happy. She knew she was safe with her father around. But everything changed when suddenly, their father died as well,” Elphaba says solemnly.

“Oh, no,” Nessarose moans, picturing the girl’s tear streaked face; it was a mirror of her own.

“Her mother had been buried at the base of an ancient tree. When Rose’s father died, he was buried at his wife’s side…”

Nessa nods, keeping this in mind. Elphaba wouldn’t mention such a thing if it weren’t going to be important later.

“Afterwards, the women of the house were even crueler to Rose. Since there was no one now to protect her, they could be as lazy and belittling as they wanted. They made her do all the chores she was capable of, no matter how long it took her to do them…But in spite of this, Rose remained happy.”

“Why,” Nessa asks, feeling a rush of admiration for the heroine.

“Well…Hmmm,” Elphaba thinks, biting her lip.

Nessa waits for her sister’s response, knowing that no matter what it is, it will all fit nicely.

“Well,” the green girl finally says, “I guess she felt that with all these bad things happening to her, things could only get better. And she’d always been an optimist. But most of all, she felt one day true love would be hers.”

“Just like me,” Nessa squeals, relating even more to this fantasy girl.

“And as it so happened,” Elphaba continues, “the prince of the kingdom was looking for a girl to marry. The Queen had passed away recently, and the King was naturally concerned about the future of the monarchy. So the Prince decided to hold a royal ball, with every eligible maiden invited to attend.”

“What’s elephant…elegy…that word mean,” Nessarose pipes up.

“It means anyone with the right qualities,” Elphaba says with a smile. “Girls who were kind and clever, girls who were beautiful, and even plain girls, as long as they had good hearts.”

“Thanks,” Nessa blushes. “What happened next?”

“Well, as you can imagine, the women of the house were quite excited. Pfannee and Shenshen spent hours in front of the mirror, preening themselves to look their very best. But no matter how much makeup they put on, their false smiles shone through.”

“Of course. They’re mean.”

Elphaba grins. “Of course. Rose’s stepmother, meanwhile, was busy preparing transportation. They needed a way to reach the palace, after all.”

“And Rose? What was she doing,” Nessarose asks, unable to bear the suspense.

“She was busy trying to find a dress to wear and makeup to put on. But for some reason, there was nothing to be found. It was as if someone had hidden all the pretty dresses and cosmetics.”

“Pfannee and Shenshen had some,” Nessa puts in.

”Yes, but it was in use. Rose was far too nice to take the makeup away from her stepsisters. A dress was more important anyhow.”

“You’re right,” Nessa concedes. “Did she manage to find one?”

“Just barely. It was a rather simple yet elegant black dress, and it took her quite some time to put it on. At the appointed time, Rose was ready to join her family and go to the ball. She wheeled herself outside, full of excitement, and then stopped dead. Tears welled up in her eyes.”

Nessa makes a low sound of concern. “Why?”

“For her stepmother had ordered a carriage to take them to the ball. Rose was in a wheelchair and couldn’t get in. And there was no room for her to be carried in, chair and all.”

Nessarose’s eyes water. “How cruel could she be!? This had better have a happy ending, Elphaba. I deserve one!”

Seemingly ignoring her, Elphaba continues.

”She sat there, watching in horror, as they smiled, waved, and left. Wheeling herself out to her mother’s grave, Rose felt truly alone and afraid for the first time, and started sobbing. Her tears, wet with unspoken hopes and dreams, watered the tree.”

“And then?” Nessa breathes, as if sensing the arrival of something good.

“She felt warm, gentle hands wrapping themselves around her, lifting her face and drying her tears. She heard the soft whispery voice of her mother, telling her to never give up, for on this night, if she kept hoping, she’d find the one she was destined to be with. Her mother gently asked her if she was ready, and Rose answered… “

Nessarose is silent, hanging on every word.

“Yes.”

“In the next instant,” Elphaba continues, “Rose found herself clad in a shimmering pink ballgown. Her slippers were a shining silver—“

“Make them red,” Nessarose interrupts, “it’s a more magical color.”

A smile.

“Of course. Her slippers were a brilliant ruby red; her wheelchair, formerly dusty and worn, was now gleaming and wonderful, covered in red velvet with gold trim. Eyes shining in happiness, Rose—“

“Make her walk,” Nessa whispers quietly.

Elphaba freezes.

“What?”

“Make her walk. Princesses walk, Elphaba.”

Elphaba stumbles over her thoughts, taken aback. She knows that her sister sees herself in this girl, and would want nothing more than to stand, to walk, to dance, even for a night. But she doesn’t want to wound her sister; to mock her by spinning a tale of what she knows would never happen…In the end, she decides, it will be up to Nessarose.

“Would you be happy,” she asks in a low voice.

“Of course. Now make me walk,” Nessarose states, the line blurring the girls shattered.

Elphaba gives a slow nod of consent.

“And as she marveled at her transformed chair, she felt her legs tingle. This was new to her; while she’d felt pain there before, and sometimes an ache, she’d never felt them so alive. And, involuntarily, they moved.”

Nessa inhales sharply in mixed joy and envy. “Will she walk, now?”

“Slowly, surely, Rose lifted herself up from her chair and stood on her own two feet. Then she sat back down and wheeled herself towards the Palace, as it was faster than walking. Besides, she felt new energy course through her, and she couldn’t have been tired if she wanted to. At last, Rose arrived at the Palace, stored her chair near the steps, and walked up proudly and hopefully. And in her head, a word resonated through her brain. Midnight.”

“…Midnight,” Nessa repeats, puzzling over this mysterious fragment.

“Rose looked at all the women of the ball. Some were flirting with the Prince; other, older women were quietly dancing with their husbands. She noticed Pfannee and Shenshen fighting over who would be the first to approach his Highness, while her stepmother watched with approval."

Nessa suppresses a laugh at this; apparently the woman thought competition was the road to success. They aren’t worthy, anyway, she thinks.

"And she turned, finally, to look at the Prince.”

“Out of the corner of his eye, the Prince glimpsed a woman he’d never seen before. A proud, yet somehow shy girl in a glinting pink gown that sparkled when she moved, and wearing shoes of pure crimson. She seemed more real than the girls he’d observed, more…worn. But somehow that made her more attractive. And she was looking right at him.”

Elphaba smiles as she continues. “The Prince, as if compelled, suddenly turned away from the teasing girls, away from the crowd, and walked right past Pfannee and Shenshen to take Rose’s hand. Time seemed to stand still.”

Nessarose interrupts. “Was he enchanted to fall in love? Rose is magically charmed now, after all.”

Elphaba gives her a wry grin. “Haven’t you heard of love at first sight?”

“…Yes. But only in…Oh.”

“That’s right. Only in fairy tales…But, you know, it does happen in real life. Otherwise these fairy stories would have nothing to be based on. It’s just… harder to come by.”

Nessarose nods. “Then what happened? With Rose, and the Prince?”

“Oh, they danced for hours. It was as if the ballroom, the guests, had vanished, and they were in a world all their own. In all the time she’d been alive, save all-too-brief moments with her parents, Rose had never known such happiness. The Prince, too, seemed enraptured. He opened his mouth to speak.”

“’Please,’ he began, ‘tell me your—“

Nessarose breaks the silence. “Why did he stop?”

“Rose had detached herself from him and run as if lions were at her heels. For the chime of a clock had broken the metaphorical spell. As the bells continued to toll, Rose felt her legs stiffen, her gown lose its shimmer; he shoes, however, remained sparkling. In her head, the word midnight screamed at her, telling her to run, get away, before they see…before he sees…”

Nessa gulps. “So…the magic ends at…”

A curt nod, and Elphaba continues, enraptured in her own story by now.

“As she stumbled back to her chair, Rose felt one of the shoes fall away, glimmering on the step. But there was no time, no way to get it; she had to flee! Hopping on a foot, she collapsed into her chair and wheeled away with an adrenaline rush. Though she felt scared and nervous, in the end she didn’t mind. She’d had the best time of her life, and she felt it would all turn out alright in the end.”

“At the Palace, the Prince puzzled over the girl who’d stolen his heart and left so suddenly. Was it possible she didn’t love him? No, that couldn’t be. If she didn’t love me, he thought, picking up the slipper, she wouldn’t have given me a clue to find her.”

Nessa smiles. “I get it! He’d see which girl owned the other slipper! Shoes come in pairs!”

Elphaba laughs lightly. “No. He’d see which girl fit the slipper. If he looked for its owner, rather than the one wearing it, he might end up with someone hideous. There’s no mistaking foot size.”

“And the next day a proclamation was issued: The King’s emissary would comb the kingdom, searching every household until he found the girl that fit the slipper. As you can imagine, Pfannee and Shenshen were quite excited. They knew they hadn’t worn anything like that, but how would the emissary know? And there was no mistaking foot size.”

“But what if they had the same size,” Nessa objects; Elphaba silently shushes her.

“But when the emissary arrived at their door and presented the shoe, they couldn’t make it fit. It was as if the slipper itself was rejecting them; no matter how they contorted and twisted their feet it refused to submit. In desperation, the stepmother offered her aged foot and found herself unable to squeeze even three toes into it.”

Nessa giggles at the idea of an old woman pretending to be the prince’s love. “What about Rose?”

“Rose had kept mostly to herself as this was going on, watching as they tried and failed. Finally, as the emissary began to put the slipper away, she called out. Shyly, she wheeled forward, asking him politely to remove her shoe so she could see if she was the girl.”

“Despite the stepsisters’ protests of ‘she can’t even walk; how could she be the one’, the stepmother’s howls of disbelief, as if she sensed something they couldn’t, and his own misgivings, the emissary nodded, gently removing Rose’s worn shoe to place the slipper on her foot.”

Nessarose smiles. “And it fit?”

“And it fit perfectly. The shoes had been made for Rose, you see, letting no other wear them. Even if they shared the same size, it would expand, or shrink, to ensure that one unworthy of his love wouldn’t be mistaken. Those girls would find other loves, or find love in themselves.”

Elphaba grins, thinking back to her sister’s outburst.

“But the final thing that cemented her identity as the prince’s love was when Rose, eyes shining, produced the other slipper.”

“Could she walk, now that she had them both,” Nessa pipes up.

Elphaba ignores the question. “That very day, a royal wedding was announced. All the people, from peasants to lords and ladies, gathered to watch as the Prince gently wheeled his bride down the aisle.”

“And as the vows were said, the rings placed upon their fingers, as the minister pronounced them husband and wife, Rose felt her legs move. She gasped in surprise and delight, and before the congregation’s astonished eyes, she stood up to kiss her prince.”

Nessa sighs romantically. “So it’s a happy ending,” she said in relief.

Elphaba nods. “Yes. She then lived with the prince in the palace for the rest of her days, wearing the shoes to make her walk, leap, and dance. She lived happily, indeed…”

Elphaba pauses, then. It seems…too simple, too happy. Usually, to other children, she tells more realistic tales of romance and death. Nessarose demands a happy ending, however, and a happy ending she’ll get.

But…still…

Before she can stop herself, the words tumble out, weaving around the story.

“But the slippers sometimes ached, and sometimes pinched at her feet, so every so often Rose took them off. She sat back in her chair and wheeled around, doing chores even though she had maids to do such tasks. And on these occasions she wheeled to her house, to her mother’s grave, pricking her finger and watering the tree with tears and blood…”

Elphaba pauses, knowing such behavior deserves an explanation.

“She did it to—“

“I know why,” Nessa interrupts.

“…Why,” the green girl breathes.

“To never forget herself. Happy endings aren’t just granted.”

I finally had a chance to read this all the way through. It was very good!
I love how cute you wrote Nessa! She's just adorable... I also like the ending line. Very powerful. Nice job!

Thanks, passionate! Glad you liked it. I like the ending line too.

That was really....REALLY...sweet. It was so sad when Nessa requested that Rose be able to walk, obviously sharing what she wanted most. But I'm glad Elphaba framed the story right, especially the ending.

Great one-shot, thanks for sharing it

Thanks WickedlyAsh.

Poor Nessa.