Recently after reading Wicked, I went to the bookstore and found its sequel, Son of a Witch. Let me just say right off the bat (or broom), I fell in love with Liir, but I dubbed him Sir-Not-Appearing-In-This-Musical. (Yes, I am aware that SoaW was published after the musical came out). So, here's a little fic based off the musical, featuring Liir and our favorite mystery hag, Yackle!

Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West and Son of a Witch are owned by Gregory Maguire (lucky…)

The musical, by Universal Pictures, Winnie Holzman, etc…

Lyrics are all Stephen Schwartz's (you genius).

Under her skin it really did seem like a parasite.

That freakish lump that seemed to gain more weight every day didn't look right. Shaking her head, Elphaba retracted the thought. It was she who didn't look right. She couldn't put the blame on the child she loved more and more everyday. She placed a green hand on her round belly and hummed, almost apologetically. The lump moved under Elphaba's touch, making her wonder if it was accepting her apology.

She heard Yackle's cough coming from behind the closed door, and she fell back against the pillow, feigning sleep in case the crone decided to check in on them. Fiyero shifted beside her, giving her a view of the blue diamonds that decorated the left side of his face and torso. Yackle's footsteps went away, letting Elphaba sigh in relief. She and Fiyero owed Yackle. After all, she had taken them in when they arrived in Ev, fugitives from Oz, and reversed Elphaba's spell on Fiyero through her own brand of Eviannese magic. But the crone continued to mystify Elphaba, making her wonder if she was Kumbricia reborn or some saint in disguise sent from the Unnamed God. Yackle never admitted anything, and such secrecy reminded Elphaba of Madame Morrible.

But she was the only person Elphaba and Fiyero trusted with their unexpected arrival.

Closing her weary eyes for a moment, Elphaba could've sworn she heard a newborn's cry. Was it her clairvoyance acting up again? I'm already a week overdue. Maybe it'll arrive tomorrow. She silently willed this child to look like Fiyero, and have all its limbs intact. If she thought hard enough, Elphaba could remember the day her sister, Nessarose, was born.

The memory came in sharp little pokes of sights and sounds. Mostly of her Nanny's face contorted in worry and her mother's frightening screams. Elphaba sat on Nanny's lap, absentmindedly sucking her green thumb while gazing at her pacing father. The last thing she remembered was looking at a round, pink newborn with her legs twisted beyond recognition. It all ended with her father's howl of despair when the midwife told him that his wife was dead.

Yackle's voice floated through the door, "Sleep, poppet. The time's not far now." Elphaba drew the blanket to her chin, cold all of a sudden. The crone's voice wasn't all that reassuring, and another of Elphaba's fears was to end up like her mother, dead before she ever saw hers and Fiyero's child. She wanted to see for herself that it was alright, and to at least have a name for it. Wrapping her arm around Fiyero, Elphaba fell into an uneasy sleep.

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The pain was worse than she had anticipated, and lasted longer. Fiyero was sitting by the bedside, clenching Elphaba's hand nervously and trying to keep her forehead cool. In between contractions, she seethed, "Yero, you're not helping." He used the same cloth to wipe his brow and answered, "I'm not leaving you alone with her," motioning towards Yackle, who was coming in with more clean towels. She clucked at Fiyero, "Men always think they're a comfort during a woman's travail. You'll be lucky if Fae doesn't choke you while birthing that child of yours." Yackle checked to see if Elphaba was ready, saying, "Don't push just yet, Fae. The poppet's taking its sweet time."

Once again Elphaba's abdomen worked to push the moving child out, making her squeeze Fiyero's hand. He winced at the ferocity of her grip and gripped back, hoping it would ease her pain. Of course, it didn't. Elphaba had never been so frightened in her life. Is this what Mama felt when Nessa was born? She railed and moaned against the contractions, wishing that it would end. Please…just long enough for me to see it… Yackle gave a wheezy chuckle, "Start pushing, Fae! It's finally awake!" Feeling a much stronger contraction, the worst yet, Elphaba held her breath and prepared for one last push. She felt Fiyero's forehead leaning against hers, as if he were pushing along with her. As much as she had pored over the pages of the Grimmerie, Elphaba could not recall any spell that could ensure her child's survival. Only she could do that.

Suddenly there was a whirlwind around Elphaba. She heard Fiyero gasp in shock, Yackle crow in delight, and a choking cry. Elphaba tried to lift her head from the pillow, but didn't have the strength to do it. She whimpered, "Is it…alright?" Fiyero placed his hand gently on her forehead and answered, "He's fine! He's…oh, Elphie, he's perfect!" At his words, Elphaba felt immense relief. He's alright! Tears made their way down her cheeks and the room went dark.

"Elphaba!"

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She could still hear her son's cries…

Yackle? Fiyero! I can't see anything! What's happening? Is he alright?

She could hear his cries, letting her know he was breathing. She could hear the whooshing of the house that had crushed Nessarose. See the blood red shoes on Dorothy's feet. Dorothy…

Fiyero had said she was a kind, naïve little girl who looked incapable of swatting a fly. But the shoes…Nessa's shoes…Was everyone so convinced of hers and Elphaba's wickedness that they didn't care about what had remained?

No. That life's over now. I have to look after my son. I have to…I want to see Glinda again. I want her to see my son, and see that Fiyero and I are alive. I want...

The ceiling was clear again. Elphaba could see the top of Fiyero's head, and his handsome features came into view as he peered down at her. "Welcome back," he whispered, "I thought we'd lost you for a minute." He was holding a white bundle, and a tuft of jet black hair was poking out of it. She lifted her head anxiously, wanting to see for herself, and asked, "Is he alright?" He lowered the bundle for her.

The boy didn't look of this world. Elphaba noted that his skin wasn't green like hers, or dark like Fiyero's. It was pale white. His arms, already reaching for her, were long and sturdy looking. Elphaba was relieved that there was no hint of green, until she caught sight of his eyes. They were green.

Elphaba had to weep at the sight, but not of disappointment. "He's so beautiful," she breathed, taking him in her arms. Fiyero sat beside her to prop her up along with her pillow. Together, they looked down at the newborn. He stared back at them, taking in every detail of their faces. Without tearing his eyes away, Fiyero asked Elphaba, "What'll you name him?"

Looking at the child and wondering, Elphaba weighed a few names in her head. "I want a name that's unique. Not Ozian, Quoxian, or Fliannese." A name that would forever prove that he was hers and Fiyero's. A child born of blue diamonds on green fields.

"Liir."