A/N: Wow...I don't really know how long it's been since I've touched this story. But I got a weird feeling today... and since I have all of this written and stored away, I decided to post it for you guys. I've moved on from Wicked. I still love it, but my life is so different now from what it used to be... I'm performing almost all the time now, or riding my horse, and I've found what I truly love is dance, so I've come to love musicals like Thoroughly Modern Millie and CATS now...but I thought I'd tie up this loose end if anyone out there still wanted to read it. Enjoy. 3

Chapter 11 - "Destroy"

I don't think Liir knew why he had be ushered to go with me. He didn't know me - he was still shy and bumbling around me, a child around an adult he barely recognized.

The other children pestered him relentlessly. He hadn't grown up properly, with love and care and attention ... and education. He was a bit dim, and he wanted friendship. They were so cruel to him, sometimes I couldn't bare it.

Most of the time I ignored it.

I'm terrible, terrible, terrible.

I never felt guilty about not loving him. Not until he nearly died, of course. It was almost like loosing Fiyero again - my head was reeling and I was dying, dying. I couldn't breathe, thinking he wouldn't make it.

You see - the children had decided to play "Hide & Seek".

And Manek, being the cruel, horrible brat he was - he told Liir to sit in the well bucket and lowered him down. "Nor would not find him there"

No, she wouldn't, but something would.

He forgot. Manek forgot about my only son! Sitting down in the dark, truly believing that Manek was going to come and save him. What a dull boy, always believing in heroes.

I don't know what it was that made him imagine the Magic Carp. Maybe it was the near frost-bite, his breath slowing and his heart nearly stopping.

Or maybe, just maybe, the Carp was real.

Where else would Liir get the notion that Fiyero was his father?

Scoffed at by Sarima, her sisters, her children and my childhood Nanny, who had recently come to live with us.

But I knew the truth. Mouth hanging open, I blatantly blamed Liir's "insane" words on his near-death experience and carried him to my very own bed where I tucked in as many blankets as I could find around him.

I watched over him the entire night.

I think I found out that being a mother was not so bad at all, no, no, it wasn't.

My sweet little Liir, must think I've really gone mad for all of Oz to hate me as it does now. Even Boq, and probably Fiyero up above as he may be.

Manek died a week after Liir's incident.

The anger burned within me, burned into the core of a very sharp icicle, which incidentally Manek was walking under.

Oh, it wasn't my fault! Oh, no!

A little while after that I received a letter from Frex, who'd from Nanny found out where I was residing. He begged me to come to Colwen Gardens - he thought I could "Help" Nessa.

Stupidly, I went.

All she wanted was for me to be some sort of pawn in her political tyranny.

I refused, told her I'd missed her, and marveled at her shoes.

Those shoes, they haunt me even now! Frex had given them to her during our residency at Shiz. They were beautiful, so, so beautiful - obviously a sign of deep love and devotion.

My hands dug into the box, green meeting the tan color of shavings, hoping to maybe find such a sign for myself.

No such luck.

I was so bitter. I am so bitter, like a lemon. Or a lime, I suppose would be more accurate - I think I'm a little more green, though.

As if to make my longing for the shoes worse, Glinda had no enchanted them so that Nessa could walk on her own! It was really amazing, seeing Nessa reach her true potential - she was tragically beautiful, Nessarose.

Nessa laughed at me, for wanting them so. She laughed and said she'd leave them to me in her will.

So they were mine! Don't you understand?

Whether it was love for my sister, want for my father's love, or pure anger - I wanted those damned shoes! I needed them. I was so foolish, so selfish, but I could think of nothing else.

And ... isn't it funny...

I'd once remarked to dear Fiyero how I couldn't just get on a broom and fly around Oz.

How ironic, and yet again I must use that word.

In the Mauntery, there'd been a woman named Yackle. Old Mother Yackle. She'd given me a broom - magical properties, she said.

I didn't believe her until sneaky - yet, kind enough - Nor had barged into my room while I'd been eating lunch with Nanny. She'd gotten on the broom for some reason - childish games - and it had begun to fly her wildly out through the window, around the castle.

I finally spotted her from the window, you know, and it made me so angry to see her fooling with my things! But my shock at the broom's flight...

I just yelled at her to get down, and the broom like a loyal puppy shot straight down to me.

Amazing, isn't it? I defy gravity now.

As I was flying back to Kiamo Ko from the 'family' visit, winds rushing through my raven-colored hair, harsh against my eyes, my stomach suddenly twisted.

I'd always had strange prophecies throughout my life. They were never exactly visions, never exactly just "feelings". They were ... they were certainties.

And I knew, I knew without a doubt ... when I finally reached Kiamo Ko, I'd return to another destroyed life.