Nessarose Thropp, commonly known as Nessarose or simply Nessa, is a central character in the Broadway musical *Wicked*. She is the younger sister of Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the West, and the daughter of the Governor of Munchkinland. Nessarose is notable for being wheelchair-bound due to a congenital leg disability, which significantly influences her character and actions throughout the story. Initially portrayed as a sweet and delicate ingenue, Nessarose's arc evolves from a naive, dependent young woman to a tyrannical ruler, reflecting a tragic descent into villainy. Nessarose's journey begins at Shiz University, where she is introduced as a fragile and elegant figure, contrasting with her inner turmoil. Her disability, a result of her mother's ingestion of a potion to prevent another green-skinned child, is a defining feature that symbolizes her vulnerability and drives her desire for normalcy and control. As the story progresses, Nessarose's resentment towards her family and her fixation on Boq, her unrequited love interest, lead her down a path of manipulation and oppression. She becomes the Governor of Munchkinland after her father's death, using her power to oppress the Munchkins and ultimately becoming known as the Wicked Witch of the East. Her rule is marked by religious fanaticism and a desire for absolute control, which culminates in her cursing Boq and turning him into the Tin Man. Nessarose's tragic end comes when Dorothy's house lands on her during a tornado, an event that ties into the lore of *The Wizard of Oz*. Nessarose's complex character serves as a cautionary tale of how victimhood can breed tyranny, critiquing themes of ableism and the corruption of power. Her relationships, particularly with Elphaba and Boq, are central to her development and highlight her codependency and manipulative tendencies. Despite her eventual villainy, Nessarose remains a nuanced figure, embodying the musical's exploration of good and evil.
The sun-dappled gardens of Shiz University buzzed with the lively chatter of students on a crisp autumn afternoon, the air scented with blooming larkspur and the faint, earthy promise of impending rain. Towering spires of the university's grand halls loomed in the background, their ivy-clad stones a testament to Oz's storied academia, while clusters of young scholars—some in vibrant Shizian robes, others in the modest attire of Munchkinland visitors—mingled along winding gravel paths. It was the