Title: Imaginary

Author: Angel Leviathan

Disclaimer: Wicked, characters, concept, etc, don’t belong to me.

Spoilers: Everything.

Notes: Bookverse.

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She remembers when they were just three, unknown and unimportant, young women of Shiz University. When she was on her way to being a better person, when Elphaba was on the road to her days as an anarchist, and how Nessarose forever escaped from the world by hiding in the religious fanaticism that eventually consumed her.

She remembers when next to nobody knew their names. When she was just a girl who thought she was known everywhere in high society, when the only attention Elphaba received was due to the colour of her skin, and how Nessarose tried to bask in whatever attention she got, whether it was for the right or wrong reasons.

She remembers when it all went wrong. When she married an older man for the money and the elevation to society lady, when Elphaba vanished into the Emerald City and was never the same woman again, and how Nessarose reluctantly took the position of Eminent Thropp, cursing her sister every unbalanced step of the way.

She remembers when she was utterly, completely terrified for the first time in her life. When she was left to deal with the arrival of the foreign girl, when Elphaba’s love for her turned to hatred over a pair of magicked shoes, and how Nessarose was gone forever, perhaps the only thing that had been keeping them bound together.

She remembers when she wept and her world finally fell apart. When she was the only one left, all alone in the world despite her husband and her money and her house full of servants, when Elphaba departed the world thanks to the girl she had sent on her way herself, and how Nessarose made her presence known from beyond the grave as those damned shoes shone.

She remembers when she first suspected she might be on the brink of a breakdown. When every moment she had spent with the Thropp sisters haunted her night and day, when Elphaba never left her thoughts, and how Nessarose still clung to her with an icy grip, despite the fact that the poor woman had never had hands to grip with.

She remembers that they are everywhere. That she is a false beacon of light and hope, that the memory of Elphaba is forever cursed, and how Nessarose will always only be remembered as a pair of legs sticking out from under the house of her murderer.

She remembers that they are only symbolic. That she is only the witch of the north, Elphaba is the wicked witch of the west, and how Nessarose is the wicked witch of the east.

They are not people. They do not exist. They see her and they hear her but they do not remember that she is a person. That she was once a young girl. That they were once all young, scared, ambitious, girls.

They are everywhere and nowhere.

Fin