Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Glinda is not a prisoner.

"Of course not," says Madame. "That would be gauche. You are merely... Detained. Until this situation is solved.”

She is looking very composed right now, reclining in one of the padded chair in the wizard’s little apartment. As regal and as imposing as she had always been. Glinda could almost forget the disarray she had been in only an hour ago, that harried, furious desperation. The terrible look on her face when she arrived at that balcony to see Glinda standing there, alone, Elphaba’s small figure growing distant on the horizon.

For a moment they had been the only two people in the world, staring at each other. Morrible’s face twisted in disgusted disappointment, Glinda in a dreamlike sort of resignation.

Then she rounded on the guards.

“Are you all completely brainless?” She had spat. “Put a sword to the girl’s throat, and you would have had her off her broom like that!”

The soldiers had flinched under her fury, one of them hurriedly grasping Glinda’s arms where he had released her after Elphaba took off flying. The movement caught Madame’s Morrible’s eye, and she strode toward him, heedless of his flinch as she took hold of Glinda’s arms with grip that felt like steel.

“You, my dear,” she hissed, “Should come inside, now. For your own protection.”

Elphaba was gone from the horizon. Glinda allowed herself to tugged inside. There didn’t seem to be anything else she could do.

Madame Morrible paused at the balcony’s doors turning around to level a glare at the pale-looking guards.

“Well? Go!” she snapped. “Let it be known that the witch’s accomplice had been captured during her assault on the castle. Make sure the entire kingdom knows!”

That had been an hour ago. Maybe the whole kingdom already knew.

“I’m sorry to sound doubtfullious,” Glinda begins, voice as steady as she can make it. “But, well. The situation does not seem to be resolving.”

“Sometimes, my dear,” Madame snaps, and Glinda flinches. “One must be capable of patience.”

Glinda inhales. Exhales.

“If I am a guest,” she asks, smiling blandly. “May I please trouble you for a cup of hot cocoa? Today has been very bracing. I am afraid I’m simply not used to this level of excitement. You know, I haven’t had a day like this since - “

Madame’s chair's legs screech against the floor as she stands up, expression thunderous. Glinda keeps her own face neutrally pleasant and does not allow herself to shake.

“It appears I must go and manage the search myself.” She sighs. “If you want a job done right, I suppose.”

“Well, in that - “

“Yes, whatever nonsense you ask.”

She marches out of the room as though she can’t stand to be there another second. Glinda is left alone with the all-powerful ruler of Oz and all that’s within it. The great and wonderful Oz glances at her from the corner of his eye, looking awkward.

“This is really not how I intended all of this to go,” he says. “I really am very sorry about the current situation.”

“I understand.” Glinda says. “I am sure this will all work itself out for the best, eventually.”

A monkey arrives with her cocoa a few minutes later. It's good, at least – warm and just a bit too sweet. The cup clinks against the plate as she puts it down and the sound is impossibly loud in the quiet room. The Wizard twitches.

Throw the cocoa in his face, she thinks. Leap over the table and wrap your hands around his throat. You can do this. He has no powers. He's just an old man.

But there are four armed monkeys in the room and two more outside the door, and they will reach her long before she can do any real damage. Glinda had never been stabbed by a sword before, and the thought of what it must feel like makes her knees shake and her stomach grow cold. She doesn’t want that. She really, really doesn’t.

There are many forms of power in the world. Most of them are wielded by old men.

Time passes very slowly. The wizard gets up some point. Starts playing with his toys again, taking notes on a strange-looking notebook. He mutters quietly to himself as he works, but does not address her again. Later, he disappears behind a curtain in the back of the room, and a barrage of clinking sounds starts coming from that corner.

Glinda stays in her chair. She drinks her cocoa slowly, in small sips, trying to make it last long after it grows cold. She catalogues the damages of their wild chase through the castle carefully – her dress is torn in seven places and scuffed in three more. There is dust and hay in her hair, and she tries to brush it out, but the monkeys’ eyes follow the movement, and she stops.

Mostly, she stares out of the window. There isn’t much to see out there – just clouds, moving slowly across the sky. It might even be the western sky, where Elphie said to look for her – Glinda is terrible with directions. She wouldn’t be able to see anything there, either way. The coloured glass is distorting the view

She regrets not getting on the broom. She regrets entering the castle at all, bearing witness to any of this. She regrets jumping onto the train. She regrets getting out of bed in the morning and even letting this start.

Her name was Galinda, just this morning.

There is the sound of distant commotion, somewhere outside the room, running footsteps and raised voices that sound strangely familiar. Glinda grips the handle of her long-empty cup as the monkeys around her move in agitation, still wordless. The wizard emerges from behind his curtain tight and bewildered. The door opens and in it stands a young man in castle servant’s livery’ looking winded. “Your wonderfullness! I am so sorry to disturb you, there is – a problem. One that the Madame requests your presence for.”

“I understand.” The Wizard draws himself up to his full height, his robes swishing in a way that a few hours ago Glinda might have considered sufficiently majestic. He strides out of the room, the messenger scrambling before him to lead the way.

Glinda follows. The flying monkeys cast anxious glances, but the wizard doesn’t seem to notice her presence, and without direct order they aren’t eager to act.

The boy leads them all down a series of long, green hallways and tall, green staircases to what is, to Glinda’s dismay, appears to be another balcony. It is far lower than the last one, at the very least, only on the second floor, overlooking what appears to be the castle’s back garden. For a few moments, Glinda is so distracted by the feeling of finally being outside after this long, horrible day that she doesn’t notice anyone else. Night has gone down outside, she realizes. She isn’t sure how late the hour is. It might already be tomorrow.

The she notices two things in rapid succession. The first is Madame Morrible, standing at the railing as she looks down on the man on the ground beneath her. Her expression is disdainful, and her shoulders are very tight.

The she realizes she knows that voice, shouting up to her, and, rushing forward to the railing, she can see a familiar face, the most wonderful face, that Glinda could not have imagined seeing here today.

"This is ridiculous! As prince of Winkie, I have the right to see my fiancé!”

Glinda stumbles away from the railing, stunned. “Fiyero!”

Madame Morrible turns slowly to look at Glinda. “Fiancé,” she says flatly.

Barely, she manages to gather her breath and try to disguise her shock. “Well, yes. Yes, of course.”

“I haven’t heard about that.” Madame notes tonelessly. “Not a thing.”

“It’s just so new.” Glinda presses a hand to her heart delicately. “Elphaba was the only one who knew. You can ask her, when she gets here. We wanted to keep the matter private for a while, you see.”

“I see.” Madame Morrible sounds unimpressed. But before she can press the point -

“Well,” says the Wizard behind them. “We hardly meant to worry the prince. I'm afraid there had been a bit of a misunderstanding here. Why don’t you invite him up, Madame Morrible? Then you and... Glinda here can clarify things.”

A man is sent to allow Fiyero in. Glinda is taken to a small receiving room on the bottom floor and pointedly pushed in, guards taking places on both sides of the door as it slams behind her. And then there’s just the two of them.

Fiyero looks her up and down. Glinda is suddenly, terribly aware of how she looks – smeared makeup, messy hair, her dress torn and covered in dust. It's dreadful. Some part of her wants to run out of the room, hide herself, beg him to forget he’s ever seen any of it. The rest wants to throw herself into his arms.

Then he steps forward. His hand reaches up to touch her cheek. She's never seen this kind of look in his eyes.

“Sweetheart,” he says. “What the hell happened?”

And she’s crying again. Oz, this is so horribly embarrassing, and she can barely even care. She stumbles forward and he catches her, arms coming to wrap around her shoulders as he starts petting her hair and making vague calming noises. He’s terribly awkward about it, as though he’d never comforted anyone before, but his hold is tight and sure around her, as though he has no intention of ever letting go, and Glinda doesn’t care about the rest.

She pulls herself together after a few minutes, carefully pulling away and wiping at her eyes. Fiyero offers her a handkerchief and she takes it gratefully, blowing her nose as gracefully as she can. As she hands it back she notices his sharp gaze on her face, the questions he is only barely holding back. Oz, how does she even begin to explain? She wants to ask about the lie of their engagement, to thank him for it. But Madame Morrible is definitely eavesdropping, because Glinda would have eavesdropped and Madame is the press secretary of the entire Ozdamned realm.

She tries to explain. She takes the day step by step, trying to understand it as she tells it. She spends far too long rambling about the Wizomania, the singers and dancers, her and Elphie laughing together in the square. It was so loud and exciting and was it really only this afternoon? It can’t possibly be.

She forces herself to focus on the parts that matter. The palace, the head, the wizard’s welcoming smile. Elphie reading from the book, proud and brilliant like a heroine from a tale as she bent reality to her will like no one but her could.

And her rage, after, heartbroken and terrible. Glinda had wanted to hold her close until the horror and betrayal faded out of her eyes. Glinda is so very angry at her, for bringing them both here.

She doesn’t explain about the Wizard’s lack of magic - What if Madame Morrible arrests him too? But she tries to describe that chase through the long green halls, the guards behind and the monkeys above and Elphie’s hand in hers. The balcony. The broom. Then she runs out of words.

Fiyero takes it all in. His face grow drawn and pale as she talks though he doesn’t interrupt her, not once. “Alright,” he says, when she done. “Alright. We can – we can figure this out.”

He doesn’t sound sure of his word, Glinda isn’t either. But she takes comfort in them anyway, in the steely stubbornness suddenly present in his voice. There is a fierceness in his eyes Glinda had never seen before. She supposes they are neither of them quite who they were, this morning.

Before the how can leave her lips the door opens again, revealing Madame, perfectly composed and clearly impatient. Fiyero pulls on his best smile. “Madame Dorrible! Glad you looked out for Glinda during this whole tribulation! I don’t suppose it will be a problem if we will be on our way now, would it? We have a long journey ahead of us.”

Most teachers as Shiz tended to get bowled over at the rare moment Fiyero focused his attention on them. Glinda is disappointed but not surprised to find Madame entirely [unflapped]. “I’m afraid not. Miss Galinda is held in suspicion of colluding with dangerous forces. Not to mention that should she prove innocent, her involvement could put her at risk of retaliation by a very dangerous individual. We simply cannot afford the risk of the situation escalating further.”

“Glinda.” Glinda says quietly. “Not Galinda. It's Glinda now.”

Neither of them pays her any attention. Fiyero narrows his eyes at Madame Morrible. “Well, what then is supposed to happen now?”

“In order to ensure both her safety and her innocence, we must capture Elphaba Thropp. Until that is done, Miss Galinda cannot leave this castle. You want to help your fiancé?” Madame Morrible raises her chin. “Find the witch.”

Fiyero leaves a short while after that. He doesn’t want to - his smile is fixed on his face, but he keeps shooting Glinda concerned glances, as though worried the Wizard might eat her should he look away for too long.

(The Wizard wouldn’t eat her, won’t he? Glinda had heard stories about evil witches sacrificing young maidens for power, but surely, those were just children’s stories. At the very least, if it was possible, the Wizard would have had magic powers by now.)

He promises he will be back. Glinda mostly believes him.

She and Madame Morrible stand by the window and watch as he rides away, the clattering of hooves distressingly small and lonely in the grand, empty streets. And then all that’s left is the two of them, and the vast, western sky above them, empty of witches.

"What are you going to do," Glinda asks hollowly, "If she doesn't come for me?"

Madame Morrible glances left without turning her head. “The Emerald castle dungeons are not a place for a delicate young woman. I am sure the witch will be able to learn much about the conditions there from the rebellious element she will no doubt be seeking out. Sooner rather than later, she will have to take action.” She flicks her hand, dismissing her. “Take her away.”

The guards lead Glinda down a long, spiral flight of stairs, deep under the castle, to a long corridor made of cold grey stone. The lack of green after a day spent in the city is both a shock and a strange relief. One man steps forward to open the door to one of the cells, and something in Glinda snaps. She pulls away, jerking herself out of the guards tentative hold, kicking the other. “No!” Someone grabs he shoulder from behind and she throws back an elbow. “No, this cannot be happening to me! Let me go! I demand – “

Someone grabs her again, much more forcefully this time, and shoves her forward. She stumbles into the cell, knees hitting the cold stones, and by the time she manages to scramble to the entrance, the cell door has already been slammed behind her.

“Please,” she chokes out. “You can’t leave me here. I didn’t even do anything.”

They leave her there. One of the guards, a man not much older than Fiyero, glances over his shoulder at her kneeling form, looking uncomfortable. But then the dungeon’s door closes behind them and it doesn’t matter how much or little sorry anyone had been.

“Oz-damnit!” Glinda snarls. “Of all the undignified, unfair, absolutely preposterous – “

Her voice is starting to crack. Before she can try and pull herself together, or otherwise descend into another fit of tears, a voice calls out from the darkness.

“Is someone there? Hello?”

“Doctor Dilamond?” But that voice is unmistakeable. Disbelieving, Glinda leans forward to look through the bar and manages to locate a familiar, four-legged figure in the cell across from her. “It’s really you.”

"Miss Gaaa-linda?” The shock in his voice makes his bleat more distinct than ever.

"It's fine." She says exhaustedly. "It's Glinda now."

"What could you possibly have done to find your way down here?”

"Me? Nothing." She laughs weakly. "You know me, professor, I'm all talk and glitter.”

Her former professor is quiet for a long moment. “Speaking alone can be a very dangerous thing, these days.”

“It’s not fair.” Glinda closes her eyes and then opens them again, leaning her forehead against the bars. “Although these are truly horribelious circumstances, Doctor Dilamond, I am glad to know where you have ended up. El – that is, we were all very worried about you, after that horrible lesson.”

“You were?” Doctor Dilamond sounds surprised. “Thank you, Miss Gaa – Miss Glinda. It eases my heart, a bit, to think the people outside of these walls still care about my fate.”

“Well, they do.” Glinda thinks of a flash of black cloak, a hand lingering on hers for just a moment before letting go. “They do. I swear it.”

Chapter Text

Fiyero finds Elphaba an hour or so before dawn. Or, more accurately, she finds him. At a rather dangerous velocity.

In her defence, it is extremely dark, and her control of the broom is still tenuous. She is flying low above the road in order to reduce the risk of being seen, and – fine, to reduce the risk of running into any trees. When he comes galloping in the other direction, she just barely has the time to break left and avoid frontal collusion. She goes careening into the bushes, and he leaps of Feldspur’s back, rushing toward her. “I’m sorry – Elphaba. It’s you.”

“It’s me.” She agrees, standing up and trying to brush the leaves off her dress. She can’t look directly at him. She doesn’t know what she’ll see.

Fiyero keeps staring at her. “We have to stop running into each other like this. This is becoming rather embarrassing.”

“I must have blended with the foliage,” she says faintly, and then his arms are around her.

“Thank Oz I could find you,” he says, and Elphaba is too shocked to do anything but hug back and lean into him. “Glinda told me everything. I’ve been looking all night – “

Elphaba tears back to look at his face. “You’ve seen Glinda?! Is she alright? Is she – “ She tries to calm her frantic breaths. “Did they hurt her?”

“They didn’t hurt her.” The vice that had been strangling Elphaba ever since she heard loosens, just a little bit. “But they aren’t going to let her go, either.”

“I know. I have to get back to the city. They’ll release her if I turn myself in, she didn’t do anything, it’s my fault for just leaving her there – “

“Elphaba, wait.” Fiyero grips her elbow. “You can’t rush into this. We have to – think about this. You don’t know how this is going to go.”

Elphaba fights down the urge to just pull out of his grip. She takes a deep breath, and tries to calm her racing, panicked thoughts. “Alright. How do you think this going to go?”

“The Wizard isn’t as powerful as you are, isn’t he?” His voice is quiet, and she might have mistaken it for calm if not for the sharp edge hidden beneath the words. “This is what it’s all about.”

“The Wizard!” Elphaba throws her hands in the air. “The Wizard is a liar. And he has nothing of his own.”

Fiyero freezes. “At all? That’s – actually, that’s just makes it worse.”

“Makes what worse?”

“Say you go back there. Say you give them back the book. They would still need you to do their magic for them. If they know threatening her works – “

Oh. Suddenly, Elphaba is reminded of Madame Morrible’s voice, ringing through the halls. If you want to keep your families safe, you’ll stay loyal to our Wizard.

“This isn’t going to be over so easily,” she realizes, a stone settling deep in her gut. “Not for me and not for her.”

But – “No. you can still go back, then. Tell them you met me but couldn’t capture me. Say – say I was angry about her staying behind, and didn’t care what happened to her anymore.”

Fiyero grimaces. “I’m afraid I have a rather obvious motive to lie here. Considering I did just inform Madame Morrible that Glinda and I are engaged.”

“Oh – you two are – already – I didn’t realize.”

“What? No, I meant as a ruse so they would have to let me in. familial connections and political considerations what not.”

Familial connections and political considerations. Something that has been nagging her suddenly becomes clear. If you want to keep your families safe. “Oh, Oz.” she whispers.

“What? What is it?”

“Nessa.”

She nearly gets there too late.

She tears through the distance between the forest and Munchkinland, no longer concerned with being seen. She is finding out just how fast her broom can go as she is flying, and it is fast, very fast, but the Emerald troops are fast too, and she doesn’t know how much head start Madame and the Wizard might have gained because she didn’t realize -

She reaches the family estate as the early morning light colours the fields. She hears the commotion before she sees it: clanging boots, arguing servants, barking soldiers. Then, just as her feet touch the ground, her sister risen voice.

“No - stop that! Get your hands off!”

Elphaba snaps.

It isn’t pretty. Isn't a real spell, like the ones she cast at the castle – isn't anything controlled. In fact, Elphaba forgets about the grimoire entirely. It is as ugly and messy as every tantrum she has ever thrown in this house, only worse, edged with a fury deeper than she has ever felt before. The soldiers filling the courtyard are swept of their feet, thrown onto the ground and into the walls and don’t get up. Spears are torn out of hands and tossed in all direction, someone screams, horses get loose and take off running with a screeching whine. The man grabbing onto Nessa’s chair is flung into a tree with such force it must cause terrible damage, and in that moment she does not care.

And then it is over, and all that is left in the courtyard is a dozen prone soldiers, a few cowering servants, and Nessa, pale and whole, sitting in her chair and looking at her.

Behind her, Fiyero leaps off the broom, but Elphaba is barely aware of his presence. She rushes forward, falling to her knees to embrace her sister. Nessa’s arms rise slowly to wrap around her shoulders, fingers weakly grasping at the cloth of her black cloak.

“Nessa,” Elphaba breaths above her shoulder, lightheaded with rage and relief. “You’re okay. I’m sorry it took me so long to get her.”

Nessa allows the hug for one moment more, and then her hands are pushing Elphaba’s shoulders, placing them face to face again. “Elphaba, what is going on? What did you do?”

Elphaba’s hand touches the grimoire tied at her side. “The Wizard isn’t what we thought, Nessa. He’s – “ she tries to recount it all as swiftly and honestly as she can, seeing it all again through her sister’s sharp, expectant eyes. She is just reaching the end of it when Fiyero reappears behind her, pale and unkempt. She did not even know he owned a sword.

“Prince Fiyero!” Nessa’s eyes widen at his arrival. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to help. We came as fast as we could.” He looks around him at the fallen soldiers filling the courtyard. “What were they doing?”

Nessa's lips curl. “Occupying our home. For my protection, tragically fragile as I am.”

Elphaba glances around, suddenly remembering their company. “We should probably do something about them before they wake up.”

“Guards!” Nessa commands. At her summons, the manor’s guards suddenly begin spilling from inside – Elphaba hadn’t even stopped to wander at their absence. They had been there all along, she realizes now, hesitant to act against the Emerald Troops, but emerging now that the struggle had been so decisively tipped in their favour. They creep out slowly, making their way between the fallen soldiers to line up before Nessa. They are shooting glances out the corner of their eyes at Elphaba, and some of that is the familiar fear and apprehension, but is some of their gazes there is something else as well.

“Captain,” Nessa orders, “please place the Emerald Troops under arrest until we are able to clarify the situation.”

The old captain blinks, then salutes. “I - yes, Lady Nessarose.”

“Governor,” Nessa says grimly. “Governor Nessarose.”

And Elphaba realizes who had been missing from the entire debacle. “Nessa,” she asks quietly. “Nessa, where’s father?”

“He collapsed in the evening, right as - “ her fingers tighten around the handle of her chair. “Right as when heard that message. They determined his passing three hours ago. That was when those -” she gestures toward the soldiers now being led away by the guards “ - showed up.”

“Oh.” Elphaba can’t quite find any other words to say, right now. Maybe she is too shocked and tired for grief to find a way in. She remembers sitting by her mother’s bedside, waiting for her to wake up while the baby was weeping about her hunger and father was weeping about her legs and nobody had told Elphaba there was no point in waiting anymore. She imagines Nessa sitting by their father’s bedside on her own as Elphaba was flying outside, causing the worst troubles he could ever imagine. She wonders if he was aware of her sister’s presence, if he said anything during those last moments. She missed by him by three hours. She missed him by her entire life. She wishes she had the time to say goodbye, even though she doesn’t know if it would have mattered at all.

She is distracted from these thoughts when Fiyero grabs her arm. “I need to borrow one of your horses.”

She turns, so startled by the touch his words barely register. “What?”

“We left Feldspur behind in the forest. He can meet me at home, but right now I need to borrow one of yours. I’ll send it back, I promise!”

Elphaba shakes her head, uncomprehending. “But where are you going?”

“Winkie. I must speak to my royal mother. I will be back, I swear it!”

And then he is gone, leaving the two of them alone in the broken courtyard of their childhood home, which will never be quite the same again.

They bury their father in the ancestral family plot at the edge of the estate, where generations of Thropps have been laid to rest. Mother is already there, the dried flowers Elphaba placed before leaving for Shiz still piled on her headstone. It’s a quiet ceremony, as is traditional – only the two of them and the household staff. They have no other family left.

Nessa hold the ceremony, looking pale and thin in her governor’s robe. Her hand is clasped in Elphaba as they watch people step forward and pay respects, though she doesn’t know which of the two of them is the one seeking comfort.

Elphaba stares at the still man in the open coffin, and tries to untangle the strange, distant grief within her. She used to dream of making him proud someday, she remembers. Of doing something so grand and marvellous it would wipe away all her magic and her greenery. And then he would embrace her, and proclaim to the whole world how proud he is to have such a fine firstborn daughter by his side.

She had nearly grown out of these dreams, growing up, but these last few months have brought them back, a hope as unkillable as a weed. She places it in the ground, now, says goodbye as best as she can. It’s not as good as grieving the man himself, but it is honest. It’s what she can give, right now.

Eventually all the other attendants go back into the house, and she and her sister are left alone in the graveyard. Nessa’s gaze remains fixed on the freshly turned ground, her eyes hard. It’s a long time before she speaks.

“You realize this isn’t a coincidence, don’t you?”

Elphaba pulls her cloak tighter around herself. “You think the Wizard had him killed.”

“Madame Morrible has magic. All sorts of magic.”

Elphaba thinks of that warm office on the fourth floor, and of all the things she was never told. “Yes. She does.”

“The two of you have a fight and suddenly Glinda’s a criminal, our father is dead and I'm in protective custody? He did this. He can’t get away with it. We have to make him pay for this.”

“We will.”

They hold Nessa’s official appointment ceremony the day after. Under different circumstances they would have waited longer, observed an honorary mourning period. But there are thirteen emerald soldiers in the town prison and no word from the Emerald city, and they can’t afford any weakness or doubt.

The ceremony is held in the town’s square, where Elphaba remembers her father making declarations and officiating events for as long as she can recall. She would stay in the carriage, usually, during these times, ‘where it is safer for everyone’, watching through the window as the crowd gathered. Today she is to walk out in the sun, though – Nessa wants the wizard to know he cannot intimidate her; to show that she is no fragile girl who will be easily pushed around and bend before his every declaration.

She will get out of this carriage and walk to stand by her sister’s side, this time. Any moment now. Move, Elphaba.

Sitting where she is, gathering courage, she can hear the bustling crowd outside as it slowly fills the square. There's excitement there today, a sort of sharp nervousness filling every agitated word.

“No representative from the city to confirm the appointment.”

“Well’ it’s not necessary, is it? Besides, you’ve heard the rumours.”

“Strange happenings in the capital, these days. Things aren’t as they used to be.”

“Well, I've been out on the river all week, and I heard nothing. What are you three talking about?”

“dear Oz, nothing? They say the Wizard has the Winkie prince’s fiancé locked up in his castle! And the governor’s daughters would be just the same, saved only by their extraordinary magic powers!”

"Are you serious?”

“The entire town’s talking about it! I swear, it’s like you leave your head inside your fishing boat.”

“Well, yeah, that’s my job. Goodness, what is the wizard thinking?”

“This is a power grab, I am telling you!”

“From the Wizard? He has all the power a man could want! Find a new conspiracy theory.”

“All the power he could want, but we still have our own government. Seems to me like he may not be liking that all that much.”

“I heard lady Elphaba defended the new governor against fifty invading soldiers.”

“For real?”

“She’s right – my cousin’s neighbour works at the manor and she said the prince of Winkie himself had shown up to pledge his help to the governor.”

“Well, he would, what with his girl abducted like that.”

“Shh! They're starting!”

They're starting. Elphaba stands up and pushes the carriage doors open. Head held high, she steps into the crowd. She is taller than most munchkins as it is, and with the hat on her head she towers above the gathered masses. They part before her, turning to look at her, to stare at her, whispers spreading through the square. She keeps her gaze straight ahead, striding toward the place where Nessa is wating for her, the cloak Glinda gave her swishing around her. No, I am not seasick. No, I did not eat grass as a child. And yes, I have always been green.

She lets none of that escape her lips. Let them draw their own conclusions.

Nessarose Thropp is declared the official governor of Munchkinland in a cool spring morning. She does so sitting, in a failure of tradition, but her face is hard as steel and there is not a single soul in the crowd willing to doubt her. As her speech comes to an end and cheers fill the square, her sister raises her hands and utters a series of strange words, and all the flowers in all the pots suddenly burst into bloom.

The next few days are tense.

Nessa takes over the offices. The Emerald troops remain in the dungeon. Boq shows up a short while after the coronation, swearing to do anything in his power to help. Nessa makes him her personal assistant immediately, which Elphaba is a bit wary of but doesn’t speak against. They set guards to watch the roads to the capital, send word of any troop or messenger arriving, but there is none. The quiet is nerve-wracking, as though every single person in Thropp manor is holding their breath.

Then, five days after the ceremony, a messenger arrives. Not in green. In yellow.

They invite him in, let him rest in the kitchen while message is carried up to Nessarose’s office. Elphaba is out when he arrives, and as soon as she hears she rushes up the stairs. Nessa is sitting behind (their father’s) her desk, clutching a yellow-edged, official looking scroll. She raises her head at the sound of the door opening, her expression unreadable.

“What is it?” Elphaba asks.

“The queen of Winkie wishes to speak to me. Regarding her severe concerns in respect to the state of rulership in Oz.”

Elphaba closes her eyes. “Fiyero.” She breaths.

“Elphaba, what does this mean? What are we doing?” She sounds young, all of a sudden, Elphaba’s little sister in their mother’s shoes and their father’s seat.

“I think, Nessarose,” she says very softly, “that we are going to war.”

Chapter Text

There is a gathering in a wood in eastern Winkie.

It is a discreet event, carefully arranged over weeks of correspondence. Nobody wants to do anything rash, or to draw attention to themselves. Elphaba and Nessa travel there in their simplest carriage, only two guards to accompany them. Elphaba tries one of the spells from the grimoire – a strange incantation whose unfamiliar words taste of shadows and silence – and she doesn’t know how it looks from outside, but they manage to travel unnoticed.

The queen is already there when they arrive, accompanied by Fiyero as well as her eldest son – a man in his early thirties sharing Fiyero’s nose but lacking his smile. Nessa moves over to speak to them immediately and Elphaba follows, filling her strange role as something between assistant and bodyguard. The three of them immediately engage in conversation, trading careful introductions. Fiyero meets Elphaba’s eye over his mother’s shoulder and smiles, a single eyebrow slightly raised. Elphaba has to struggle to smother her giggle, clinging to her professional attitude as best as she can. He looks very handsome, right then, grinning at her in the partial sunlight of the woods, and she is so relieved to see him again, and these are horrible thoughts to have while Glinda is imprisoned because of her. Elphaba had never been anyone's friend before, and she is starting to fear she is terrible at it.

She is saved from having to contemplate this further by the arrival of the next delegation. Gillikin country has no single ruler, but four families out of the ten composing the council sent representatives. They arrive, each of them, with a small entourage of assistants, guards and other additions, and Elphaba has to bite her lip not to snap at their foolish carelessness. Maybe she can extend the spell she has been working on.

She is reaching for the Grimoire when a figure breaks out of the largest of the groups and snags her and Fiyero by each arm, pulling them a step away from the convening leaders. “Finally! There you two are!”

Elphaba detangles herself and steps away, eyes widening in confused recognition. “ Shenshen ?”

“Obviously. You must tell me everything about Glinda right now. Is it true you were able to see her? And you didn’t even tell us you were engaged.”

Fiyero seems to be equally shocked. “It’s, uh, very recent. You went to try and see her.”

“Well, yes. After everything went down, we got together, a bunch of us, and travelled to the Emerald City, to at least bring her her shampoo, and some shoes and new hairpins – but they wouldn’t even let us in! they said she was suspected of terrorism! Our Galinda! So obviously, I went home and told my father, we have to do something about this, and the others talked to their families, and we managed to make sure the delegation came. It’s just four now, but believe me – we are pushing!”

“Oh, wow.” Elphaba fails not to stare at her. Shiz is filled with the children of every rich family in Gilikin – she had known that, of course. But it had never occurred to her that any of them could possibly be of any use.

Beside her, Fiyero grins. “Well, isn’t that impressive.” Shenshen goes as red as a tomato. “Why don’t you tell me all about it. Who was in your group?”

Elphaba moves to lean closer, accepting the implied invitation as she’s learned to in her time as Glinda’s friend. As she does, her eyes catch on the fourth and smallest of Gilikin’s delegations - and old woman, accompanied only by a single aide. There's something familiar about her face, and she is looking at Elphaba with a strange intensity that doesn’t quite match the usual revulsion. She is standing at the edge of the gathering, close enough to hear but far enough that was she to speak, her voice is not likely to carry. Elphaba is familiar enough with the bearing of a person who is the least important in the room and acutely aware of that fact.

She excuses herself from the others’ conversation and makes her way to the edge, glancing behind to make sure Nessa doesn’t need her. The woman watches her approach with an unreadable expression.

“You’re Elphaba Thropp, aren’t you? The governor’s sister.”

It had taken a while, getting used to being called that. “I am.”

The woman gives a sharp nod. “Theodora Uppland. That’s my granddaughter’s hat.”

Oh. Oh. Elphaba’s hand rises to touch the wide brim, filled suddenly with the memory of Glinda placing it there, her bright, fragile smile. “She gave it to me as a gift,” she says honestly. “It is very precious to me.”

“Is my granddaughter precious to you?”

The old woman tilts her head to meet Elphaba’s eyes head on, a daring glint in them that is unbearably familiar. Theodora doesn’t hide her bite behind glitter, not the way Glinda does, but their eyes are exactly the same. Elphaba is filled with a surge of warmth toward this strange woman who marched through half the country to try and protect the girl who put flowers in Elphaba’s hair and jumped on a train with her, once.

“Yes. She is.”

She doesn’t have time to speak of it further. The south has sent no formal delegation, but a single representative of the red crown will be present in this meeting nonetheless. to listen, if nothing else. To be prepared.

(Quadling country’s monarch has three daughters. Rumour is, none of them had been allowed to travel since the news broke. Some part of Elphaba feels the urge to try and explain the truth – it’s not about power or hostages, not the way you think . But she does not have the power to correct that misconception even if she wanted to. And at the end of the day, they’ll take what edge that they can get.)

Fiyero's mother steps forward, the rest of the clearing falling silent as she claps once, sharply. “If all are present, let us begin.”

“Wait,” Elphaba says. “We are still missing one.”

They turn to look at her, then, all of them – some clearly noticing her for the first time. Surprise, confusion, revulsion, wariness and naked curiosity appear on different faces, and Elphaba meets them all with an unwavering gaze. “Mr. Raynard? The council is starting.

It had been a busy few weeks, preparing for this meeting the future of Oz hinges upon. Elphaba hadn’t been pressuring classmates and parents, hadn’t been sending letters and gathering support. Instead, she had gone into villages and fields and forests, asking questions and making promises and saying please, please, I am a friend. Have you not heard the news? There is no room for me in the Wizard’s Oz, either.

She had found the allies that mattered.

The Animal resistance has no one leader – they are too disparate, too widely spread. But the old fox is one of their oldest members, the most experienced and trusted. He had invited her to a meeting in his old burrow, listened to her story about the Wizard and the book and the flying monkeys, Glinda and Nessa and the words of discontent slowly flooding the land. She doesn’t know if she was convincing or if the Animals are merely desperate, but in the end, he had agreed. It was all of their war.

The gathered leaders around them seem less convinced of that, but with Nessa’s assent and Elphaba’s hard glare none of them speak up to contest his presence.

“We have gathered here today, all of us,” starts the queen, “as leaders of the people of Oz, and proud representatives of its people, because we are all – worried about the conduct of the Emerald city. These recent events – the abduction of my son’s fiancé, the circumstances of governor frexspar’s death, the reports we have received regarding deception around the use of the ancient grimoire – all cast serious doubts about the Wizard’s judgement and the level of authority he has over kingdoms that are, at the end of the day, independent entities.”

“The Wizard is not of these lands,” adds the elder prince. “and it is possible we have placed – too much trust, in his ability to rule.”

“Well. He is our prophesied protector.” Points out the Quadling representative. “Allegedly.”

“Is he?” Nessa leans forward. “You’ve heard the news. My sister – an Ozian girl – can read the language of the ancients as well, better than he ever could.”

“Certain movements must be made,” agrees Shenshen’s father, whose name escapes Elphaba’s mind. “To release the girl, and make certain – adjustments. Nothing hasty, but – maybe a few official letters, maybe a formal delegation to make it clear that the Wizard and his forces cannot be allowed such freedom of movement in the enforcement of his will.”

“I suspect you will find your own freedom of movement sorely limited if you attempt this course of action,” says Raynard dryly. “Princess Glinda certainly did.”

The councillor blinks, taken aback, then frowns, offended. “I admit, I am not sure why this – gentleman’s presence is necessary in what is meant to be a discussion of leaders - “

Elphaba fingers tense around the grimoire.  here we go.

“Me and mine are prepared for action,” says Raynard, tail swishing. “Are you?”

“Well – “

“Raynard and his people have been working against the capital for a while. Their contribution to this – endeavour is likely to be considerable,” says Nessa, who Elphaba had spent a long evening convincing of the same thing just a week ago.

Elphaba steps forward. “And so will be mine.”

Nessa shoots her a sharp glance, but Elphaba ignores her. She raises a hand and starts reciting, the ancient words rolling off her tongue. The air crackled around her, then flashed, electricity gathering. The gathered officials moved back, eyes widening, expressions ranging between confusion and fear. Raising her hand high, she shouted the last word to the sky. There was a moment of stillness, then a loud crack as lightning struck the heart of the clearing, scorching and brilliant white. As it struck, Elphaba looked around, taking in the faces surrounding her: fear, contemplation, shock, amazement. The undisguised jealousy and wonder on Nessa’s face, the naked awe on Fiyero’s as their eyes meet in the aftermath of the flash.

It's not covert, but she figures the meeting will be ending soon, anyway. She could have come up with a more gentle way to make her point, probably. But she thinks it’s best they all know exactly what they’re dealing with.

“The Wizard has been abducting and silencing the people of Oz for months ,” she says. “And he may have started with people you didn’t care about, but he won’t stop there. He's taken my best friend prisoner just because he could, and I am going to stop him.” she opens up her palms, lets the last of the static dissipate. There is a strange collective gasp. “I am strong enough to do what it takes. Are you?”

Before he goes home to prepare for battle, Fiyero rides to the Emerald city one more time.

He tells no one but Elphaba where he is going. The two of them stand together at the edge of the clearing where the rest of the delegates have already departed, reluctant to let go. Fiyero can’t banish the awful feeling that as soon as they walk away, it will be a long time before he sees her again.

“I have to explain – “

“I know.” And she does, of course she does. Elphaba had always understood things so much better than Fiyero knew what to do with. She reaches abruptly and grasps his hand, a trace of desperation in her tight fingers.

“Tell her - “ anguish flickers on her face, there and then gone. They both know there is no message he can deliver without risking exposing the entire conspiracy. “If you could find a way – just let her know I haven’t forgotten about her. That I never could.”

“I will. I’ll try.” He squeezes her hand back, holding on for just one more moment under his mother’s and Nessa’s sharp gazes. And then he lets her go. He lets her go.

“Digging ourself deeper, are we?” Feldspur says as he hoists himself onto his back. Fiyero sighs, but doesn’t argue.

They let him in the castle. Morrible and the Wizard don’t come out to meet him, this time. But upon showing up at the gate, the guards take him to a commander, who looks him up and down, nods sharply and says: “Prince Fiyero. We’ve been expecting you. Come with me.”

Raynard’s information was correct. They lead him to the back of the castle and down to the dungeon, and Fiyero shoves his hands in his pocket to hide the way his knuckles grow white. Then, as the heavy door opens, he can hear voices, raised in order to be heard across the hallway.

“Is it bigger than a breadbox?”

“Well – yes.”

“Can it be found in the Emerald City?”

“No, it’s – Fiyero!”

Doctor Dilamond annoyed reproach has not changed since Fiyero sat in his classroom. “You said it wasn’t alive!”

“No, look!” there’s a movement in the first cell to the left, a flash of blond hair behind the bar and a bright eye peering at him. “You came back!”

“I promised you, didn’t I?” Fiyero narrows his eyes at the cell to the right. “Professor, is that you?”

“So it is. It seems the life of Shiz’s students have gotten much more interesting since I’ve been removed of my post.”

He wishes he’d listened better in class, all of a sudden, to have some clever way to pass information without the guards behind him realizing. As it is, the best he can do is: “It has. But we’ve taken to heart the things you’ve taught us, I promise you. I think you would be proud of our work. As students.”

“I… see.” Says Doctor Dilamond. “Thank you for telling me, prince Fiyero.”

The guard behind his shoulder coughs. “Your highness.”

“Right. Of course.”

They open the cell door and usher him in.

Glinda doesn’t look much like the haughty, glittering girl he’d laughed with as they twirled under the ballroom’s light, in what now feels like a different world. She’s gotten thinner, dark circles under her eyes she doesn’t have the make-up to hide. The dress she’s been taken in is gone, replaced with a simple yellow dress that does not quite fit her. When she raises her hand in a sardonic wave, he sees her nails have been bitten bloody.

The smile she directs toward him is much weaker than any he’d ever seen on her face, but it is genuine. “Hello, dearest. How have you been?”

The words get stuck in his throat, which shouldn’t happen to him, never happened to him until he came to Shiz and met the two of them. “Busy. I’ve been speaking to my royal mother – “ let the guards hear that . Let the wizard know that much “ – she is very unhappy. She is working on getting you out.”

“The queen?” Glinda breaths. “That's good. That’s – thank you. Thank you .”

“Of course.” He feels awful, suddenly, about all those weeks she had been left here in the dark, not even knowing if anyone outside was still fighting for her. “All your friends worry about you so much. They tried to come here, to bring you some of your things – and your parents did, too, I’ve been told. I’m afraid they wouldn’t let me bring any of that with me, but here – “ he pulls out a poppy he had picked by the side of the road and stored carefully in his pocket. “One of them asked me to make sure you know how much she thinks of you. The one you’ve been tutoring recently.” He mimics one of Glinda’s grandiose hair-tossing movements, trying to win a laugh out of her gaunt face.

Her eyes light up like the sun itself rose in this dreary cell before her. He hadn’t even realized how low her head was hanging until she raises it, now, one hand reaching for the flower. “That is – very kind of her, to say. I'm glad you told me.”

“She misses you very badly. She would be here now, if she could. She wanted to the moment she heard what happened.”

“She did?” Glinda’s fingers close carefully around the poppy’s stem, as though she would break it if she grasped it too hard.

“She did. she will , as soon as it is – safe. We are working on that.”

Glinda exhales, slowly. With a precise movement, she moves her hair and tucks the poppy behind her ear. Then she raises her chin and meets his eyes.

“I’m quite alright, darling – Dr D and I have been keeping each other company. I think I will be extremely prepared for our history test when I leave here. And the doctor is quite ready to be a fashion advisor.” They both glance together at the yellow dress, and Fiyero want to laugh at their predictability, a pair of shallow fools even in this jail cell, in this war. But oh, he really has missed her.

“I would like to out of this unpleasantous place as soon as possible, of course. But you should take your time to make sure you do it all properly.” She glances at the door, and the other cell beyond it. “I truly would hate to leave the poor Doctor all alone behind.”

There's a strange tenderness in his chest as he looks at her then, small and alone with her chin raised and the flower red in her hair. He thinks he may be proud of her.

“I might not be able to come visit for a while.” He tells her. “Things are about to get – busy. But I promise you, Glinda, we will get you out.”

“I know." She reaches to grab his hands and tilts her head. “Now, I will miss you very much while you are gone, and I expect you and – my friends – to have some proper stories to share by the time I get out of here. I will not have my ‘released-from-unjust-imprisonment' party be boring.”

He’d been wrong. She looks exactly like the girl he was first taken with. He's still smiling as they lead him out of the cell.

It is quiet in the dungeon, after the guards escort Fiyero out.

“He’s an interesting one, your Fiyero,” Doctor Dillamond says, after a while. “More to him than one expects, it seems.”

Well, that is certainly true. She feels a sharp pang go through her, thinking of him and Elphaba and everyone else outside, being people she can’t see, living without her. “Oh, what do you think they may be doing out there?” She thinks of that mad, exhilarating dash through the hallways, Elphaba’s hand in hers. “It must be so exciting. And here you and I are, telling each other stories, waiting for… something.” She waves a hand in the air, even knowing he can’t see her.

“Some of our stories had been rather grim,” Doctor Dillamond points out. “Not every political prisoner has had a prince prepared to fight for her freedom. You are rather lucky, miss Glinda.”

“It is rather romantic, when one thinks about it like that, isn’t it? A poor, beautiful maiden, unjustly imprisoned away from her brave beloved.” Glinda pauses, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Well, isn’t it?”

Chapter Text

A partial record of messages smuggled across the kingdom of Oz during the events later known in history as the Glinda Uprising:  

My dearest Elphie,  

I’m writing this letter not knowing if it will ever reach you. I have convinced one of my guards to take pity on my terrible circumstances and deliver word of my wellbeing to my parents. I am not sure it will be successfully delivered to them, or that they will be able to get this to you – I do not even know where you are. I have addressed it to dear Nessarose, in hope she would know.  

If you were to reply, send the letter to the Emerald Castle’s kitchen. The woman who brings me my food had not yet agreed to sneak in correspondence,but I believe I would be able to convince her soon.  

Please write back. It is so lonely here.  

There are so many things I wish to say to you I do not have the paper for them all. First of them all – know that I am not angry.  

I was. There, I admitted it. Don't say I've ever lied to you, Elphie. The time passes very slowly down here, and I cannot claim I haven’t cursed your name a few times; that I haven’t wished, a few times, that I never climbed on the train with you. That we had never become friends, only to end up here. That I never even met you at all.  

Don’t think too harshly of me for it. I give this to you as a secret – a bad one, like the one you gave me. See? Now we’re still best friends. And anyway, I didn’t mean that – or at least, I don’t mean it anymore. I am still terribly angry, I’m afraid, with many people and things. But I understand why you did the things you did. I didn’t, back then why am I telling you this when you already know. But I have had much time to think, down here, and much time to speak to the dear Doctor, and slowly understand a few things you understood very quickly (always such a good student, you). It is strange, but it seems there are bridges you cross you don’t even know you’ve crossed until you crossed.  

This wasn’t our battle before, but it certainly is now. You’ve always been a fighter, Elphie. I am trying to be, too.  

I am running out of space on the page, and I have only one to use. I will try to write again. I will try to offer whatever help me and the Doctor can from here. I hope you’re well, out there. I hope you, at least, are getting the battle you chose.  

Teach them a lesson, Elphie. For me and for Dr. D. make them pay for this.  

Forever yours,  

Gal Glinda Upland  

To the loveliest girl in the Emerald city (or under it),  

I am sorry it took me so long to write back to you. Transferring anything between countries is a difficult thing, these days, most of all discrete letters. Emerald Troops have been patrolling borders, stopping travellers and couriers, looking through wagons and bags. One never knows when they might run into them, or what will happen when they do. All of Oz is ever on alert. I hope this message makes it safely to Gillikin, and from there to you.  

I would say I was surprised to hear from you, but that would be a lie. I had known you would manage something of this sort, my dear, although I am impressed by your swiftness and efficiency. I had told Feldspur it might take another month before you manage to finesse the dungeon staff into subterfuge. I should have known better than to underestimate you.  

You should know, you have become something of an urban legend among the people of Oz. At this point, I think there’s not a soul that haven’t heard of your imprisonment, and every lord and every fruit seller has their own speculation. Our old friends at Shiz had spent much of their time extolling your virtues and the injustice of your situation to anyone who was willing to listen, and it seems they have made an impression. Your name can be heard in every town from Winkie to Gillikin. I think you would enjoy this very much, if you were here.  

(the questions don’t end at the town square, I'm afraid. My parents and brothers are eager to meet the girl who caused me to take a matter seriously, even if this matter be her wrongful imprisonment. I admit I have always found their scrutiny to be unfortunate, but I do look forward to seeing what you would make of each other. I am certain you will be able to make an impression.)  

This isn’t where we expected to find ourselves, when we first went out dancing, isn’t it? But although I do miss the Ozdust on occasion, I cannot say I regret the way things turned out.  

I’m sorry. This must sound both crass and heartless to you, where you are now. That is not what I meant. I wish more than anything that you were outside of that cursed cell right now, able to stand by our side and work your talents on a wider crowd that that of bored prison guards and one unlucky goat. I simply meant – there are things that needed doing, that now we can finally do. You can’t stay inside the ballroom forever. Or at least, you shouldn’t.  

I think you understand. We were always two of a kind, you and I, for better or for worse. Let's make sure it’s for the better.  

Still yours,  

Prince Fiyero of Winkie  

Dear Fiyero,  

I am sending you this message on the wings of Alfonso, one of the Animal resistance’s best couriers. He and his group have been on the run for a while, but I have told him the kingdom of Winkie, like Munchkinland, will shelter them in return for a reliable message-transferring method that the emeralds are unlikely to be able to intercept. I'm sorry for not consulting you before making the promise – if you or the queen are cross, you can now let me know very quickly.  

(You’ve said before that this war belongs to all of us, but I will thank you, anyway, for always being ready to back me up throughout it. My wildest dreamings could not foresee fighting beside you in this battle. I would have been utterly lost without you.)  

Our predictions have been correct – between my father’s murder and my own attempted capture and defamation, Munchkinland has become the inevitable heart of the storm. The entire kingdom is a pot on the verge of boiling. Emerald troops are everywhere, hunting Animals, harassing citizens and asking questions. Nessa has drafted the order that they not be allowed into our lands without presenting their reasons and receiving approval. It will go into effect in a week and half. When it does, it will either calm the situation, or be the match that sets the whole land ablaze.  

They make no secret of the fact they are looking for me, but every single person in every village had denied seeing me in these lands since the day of my initial escape. I try to stay outside of towns when I am not with Nessa, but they give me food and shelter when they can. We’ve had a particularly bad incident two days ago, when I found Alfonso’s group – they have been hiding in the woods for a while, and when I was discovered with them, the near town’s militia got involved. I had been forced to try my new spell, the one that summons swarms of men-eating insects – you will be glad to hear it works, and gladder to know I can, in fact, maintain control over them. A few of the soldiers got away. I hope they do not return, but I will have to stay here in this town and wait in order to make sure.  

The people of the town do not resent me for the inconvenience; they are grateful of my protection, and proud of their own courage. It seems the people of Munchkin are still reluctant to defend their Animal neighbours, but they will stand up for me. I never thought I would see the day. It is a strange thing to learn, one I never expected and don’t quite know what to do with.  

(I do enjoy this, I admit. Is that wicked of me? I have  

I know what you will say of this – that fighting beside me will lead to fighting beside them, in time. And I know what Nessa will say – that all that matters is that our people have the will and the loyalty to stand up and fight. I will leave these dances of politics and reputation to the two of you – I’m afraid I wasn’t meant for them. Before leaving, Alfonso told me of another group of runaways hidden in east Gillikin. I will be headed for there next week, but if you wish to contact me, write Nessa. She will find me.  

Be careful, Fiyero. Be smart. We have not seen the worst of this yet.  

Your friend,  

Elphaba Thropp  

My poor, precious, unbelievably heroic Glinda  

I am so glad to finally be able to speak to you. We have been trying relentlessly to bring help to you since the moment you were taken from us, and only through Fiyero’s dedication were able to learn anything at all. It is terrible. I have black bags under my eyes – don’t tell anyone.  

But then, today, little Boq has stopped by – he had told us he was on a secret mission from dear Nessarose to infiltrate the Emerald palace to ensure you and Doctor Dillamond – since you’re apparently hanging out with that old goat – will be able to keep passing messages. He was wearing the silliest little uniform, and he said he’d seen you and showed us all those papers you’ve asked him to distribute. We’ve taken care of that, don’t worry – sent them to every paper who’d speak to us, and mailed it to be handed out in all the places where they wouldn’t. We've been telling everyone the story of your braverism – how you stood up for what is right, the way you’ve been silenced for changing your name so nobly – all of it!  

The school is back in session, but so many people haven’t returned – Elphaba and Nessarose, of course, and Fiyero and Boq, and also Shenshen – I have truly been left terribly lonely without the two of you. Some of the others are also missing – they sent letters saying their parents prefer them to stay at home. Thomas and Emilia broke up over it, and Minilee had been just unbearably smug about it – you wouldn’t believe it if you were here. She’s got herself a new pair of purple boots and has been walking around like she thinks it makes her the ancients' gift to Oz. Insufferable.  

Madame Morrible hasn’t come back from the break, either – headmistress says she has been held up by important business in the capital, which we all know means she has to be paying for her terribeliousness toward you. I can’t imagine it must be, being locked away like that - dear Glinda, you’re a martyr. We will not let that jealous old woman leave you there to rot.  

Your very best friend,  

Pfannee  

My fellow Ozians:  

These are terrifying days in the land of Oz. the peace we have known has been stolen from our lives – yours much like my very own.  

I write to you now to tell you, as I wish you all to know, of the events of my own misfortune. How me and my dearest friend Elphaba were summoned for an audience with Oz, in an honour we had only dreamed of achieving. How we threw ourselves at his feet and told him of the many injustices we have seen outside the city, and begged him to help the struggling souls who put their trust in him.  

In our naivete, we thought him able to solve all the world's problems. But the Wizard pulled us to our feet and confided in us the truth. That his reach was limited, though he feared letting the citizens of Oz know as much. That he summoned us to the castle because he had need of wise and talented witches like us, that we may do what he could not.  

But then brave Elphaba proved how great was her power – how her ability to read the Grimmerie was greater than any known before. Seeing that, our teacher – the dreadful Madame Morrible – was so filled with fear and jealousy she had declared her a criminal, forcing her to escape to preserve her life, taking the Grimmerie with her. Madame Morrible, furious and failurous, had then imprisoned me out of fear that I might tell you the truth.  

But her evil ways could not stop me from reaching for you. How could they? It is the fate of truth to come to light and of goodness to prevail.  

I live this story now in your hands, my dear friends, and trust in the goodness in your hearts to bring us all to better days.  

Eternally yours,  

Glinda  

My brave warrior-witch,  

You have made yourself quite a reputation, these last few days. Is it true that when the Emerald troops came marching on Munchkin-town you shed your skin and turned into a dragon in order to chase them away?  

Sadly, I assume that particular tidbit is an exaggeration (I do hope you would let me know, should you ever gain such abilities). Even so, it seems your busy weekend will be remembered for a very, very long time. The story made its way here before your letter did, in so many versions I could not possibly figure out the details. Only that there had been an uproar in the city – and then a battle, which you have won near single-handedly. Every town square is full of tales of your brilliant magic, and of your righteous fury.  

You never cease to surprise me. I am in awe of you, every time  

They now say it is enough to call your name and you shall appear, floating on your broom, and chase away evil who may be threatening the summoner. You are as popular as can be – though not quite as popular as Glinda, I’m afraid.  

I had said before that Glinda and I are two of a feather – that we think in similar ways, and so can match each other. Like a dance, where you can predict your partner’s steps. But I was wrong. I did not expect this stunt – did not know her to be capable of this. It seems that, after all, I did underestimate her. She truly is a marvel.  

Of course, every marvel has its consequences. You asked of me to find out what I can: I am afraid what I can is horribly limited. It is almost certain Morrible and the Wizard are aware of the source of this increase in unrest but I cannot predict their reaction. If I could, I would have ridden to the castle to see whether or not she is alright with my own eyes. But if I came to the Emerald City in the current climate, I am likely to find myself sharing a cell beside her. Our only source there is Boq, and only as long as his actions are small enough he does not run the risk of being recognized by Morrible.  

  I will admit that I am terrified. I promised her we will save her, last time I saw her. What if I  

Regardless of their anger at her actions and their consequences, Morrible and the Wizard must know that killing her now will only fan the flames she had set in motion. I believe we will have news soon.  

In the meantime, we have been gathering our armies and reinforcing the border, to ensure that Winkie does not find itself filled with soldiers as Munchkin had. We’ve had a few border scuffles, but no official action as of yet, and no force in our lands. I suspect the east is to bear the brunt of this struggle, at least for now. We will send you whatever reinforcement that we can.  

I wish we could meet – I grow tired of these eternal letters that always say too little and don’t let me see how you’re doing. Sometimes, when meetings grow repetitive and boring, I imagine running into you in the wood one more time. Standing there together, leaves in our hair and the rest of the world far away from us. This time, I tell myself. This time, I’ll make her laugh.  

Missing you,  

Your friend,  

Fiyero.  

My dearest Elphie,  

I got your letter this morning. I am sorry for having worried you and Fiyero so terribly this way – all of my guards have been replaced and I haven’t been able to attempt any contact with the outside world in a week or so. I can only be grateful that the improve in security seems to have missed Biq, who was finally able to deliver your messages today. Give my thanks to Nessarose for sending him to me – if not for his forgettable little face I would have been entirely disconnected from you.  

But you need not fear for me. I haven’t been harmed here as a result of my little stunt, not beyond the change in cell and guards and a fair bit of yelling. Don't mistake my words, Madame is furious; but she is a smart woman. She knows her situation is too fragile to react dramatically now. She’d acted hastily by acting against me and your sister at the beginning of this, and is still paying the price.  

Did you like my little pamphlet? Dr. D has helped me with the writing of it. I think I've done a very good job with it. I know you may think me hasty, but in truth, the wait here in the dark and quiet has been driving me out of my mind! And I figured, well, if I'm going to go and say something, might as well say it loud.  

I have been practicing my magic – nothing to do here but homework. I admit I am nothing like you just yet (you are still the most special, it seems!). But I have been figuring out some little tricks – like the replication of the pamphlets, and that lovely little glitter at the top of them to let everyone know it was me. Are you proud of me? I think the final result came out rather wonderful.  

Fiyero tells me you’ve been struggling with the grimoire. He’s worried about you, you know. Thinks you push yourself too hard, take on too much responsibility. And I don’t know, maybe he’s right – you’ve always been so stubborn, Elphie, and he gets to see you when I cannot. But I’m not worried. I know what I said, last time we were together, but that was foolish and cowardly of me. We both know you’re powerful enough to use that book. You’re powerful enough to do anything.  

I like to imagine you, sometimes, during particularly dark nights. I wonder what you may be doing out there, what fights and brilliant feats of magic you might be getting yourself into. Sometimes I just close my eyes and imagine you on that broom, flying fast and straight through an endless sky full of stars. You always knew exactly where you were going.  

I dream about you sometimes, standing on the balcony or on the train or in the Ozdust Ballroom, reaching out a hand. I try to take it, but you turn to smoke under my finger, or maybe just pull away.  

I can never reach you.  

I’m sorry, I’m babbling here, all my words stumbling and running away from me. I suppose it is good I spent them where they counted. I will go to sleep now, and in the morning Boq will come with my breakfast and take this letter, so that it may eventually reach you.  

All my love,  

Your best friend Glinda  

Dear Glinda  

I cannot describe to you the way my heart stopped when I saw your handwriting on that envelope. I suppose my words are failing me too, but these last few weeks have been nerve-wracking, and I am so glad you are still there.   

I would have come to rescue you. Damn the risks, I should have  

It was brave, what you’ve done. More than that – it was world-changing. Everything had been such a mess since the day we were last together, every person and every kingdom fumbling in the dark, scared to act, not knowing what it is they should do. And now – you have changed that, somehow, like a brilliant light, like a magic I could never dream of casting.  

It's as though, suddenly, the entirety of Oz wants to fight – like they suddenly know what they are fighting for. You've spoken to me once of the power of great communicators and their popularity to shape the world around them. I didn’t want to listen, then, but I can see it, now – the way in a few paragraphs you have done as much to shake this kingdom as I have in five months of fighting. Maybe you are right – maybe I am as powerful as you tell me. But all the same I am limited, and you can do all I couldn’t do.  

I told you once there’s no fight we cannot win, you and I. do you still believe it? I think  

I am glad Boq has been able to help as much as he did. I will admit that was not the only reason I suggested we send him to you – things between him and Nessa have been growing… complicated, and it worries me. I am hoping some space will do them both good. But I shouldn’t bother you with matters such as this, not right now. When we are back together, I can share with you all the gossip I had learned over these last few months managing a rebellion. I am sure that somehow, yours will still be better.  

(I like to imagine that, sometimes – I will admit it, since you told me first. That is how it's meant to work, isn’t it? I imagine us, sometimes, after it’s all over, sitting somewhere quiet together, telling each other stories. So much has happened, and we’ve had so little time. I've had no friends before I met you, and now I learn what it is to miss one. It is horrible. I wish I would see you again soon).  

My room is too quiet. I miss your voice, humming about dresses while I try to study. I miss the sound of your snores at night. I miss the sound of your laugher on the other side of the room - Oz, how I've wanted to throw a pillow on your head, those first few weeks. But now I lie awake and listen to the quiet and  

The violence had been growing in Munchkinland ever since your letter, isolated struggles turning into open conflict. I don’t know how things are going to go from here, but I suspect we’re done with creeping in the shadows, building coalitions and conspiracies. Everything is going to be moving very fast, from now on. I think this will all end soon.  

Yours always,  

Elphaba.  

Elphaba folds the paper carefully before placing it in the prepared envelope and sealing it. She hands it over to the waiting crow on the railing beside her, one of Alfonso’s flock whose name she can’t recall.  

“Leave it in the flower stall outside the city’s western gate,” she instructs. “Someone will pick it up from there.” 

“Got it.” The crow bobs her head and takes off, leaving Elphaba alone on the townhouse’s balcony, ink stains on her hands. Looking down, she can see the Munchkin forces gathering up: a strange mix of Nessa’s official forces and armed civilian militias that have assembled over the last few months; Winkie soldiers sent by Fiyero to help and Gilikin soldiers drawn to the place where the thick of the fight will take place. All of them talking, trading weapons and stories and battle plans. The reports of a great force in green coming from the west have arrived a few hours earlier, and there’s a strange energy in the air, one part fear and two parts anticipation. It will be battle tomorrow, but it’s a celebration tonight. 

As she leans over the railing, someone spots her, and a cheer goes through the crowd.  

“We’re not scared of the Wizard. We have a witch!” 

“They say she can conjure lighting and fire from thin air!” 

“I hear she has an extra eye that always remains awake!” 

“I heard that she can shed her skin and turn into a dragon!” 

“She’ll show those Emeralds what happens when you mess with Munchkins! Tomorrow!” 

“For governor Frexpar! For governess Nessarose! For princess Glinda!” 

“For Munchkinland! Teach that Wizard to never disrespect us again!” 

A soft sound behind her heralds Nessa’s arrival. Her sister takes a place on the balcony beside her, leaning over the railing to gaze over the roiling crowd. There's a sharp, satisfied smile on her face, a strange sort of pride. “We’re ready, aren’t we?” 

Elphaba can’t help but smile back at her. “We are. We can do this.” 

Nessa must hear something in her voice, because she tilts her head. “What is it?” 

“It’s not...” she meant it, in her letter to Glinda – she doesn’t quite have the words to make sense of all that she’s feeling right now. In the end she shakes her head. “It’s nothing. Having a common enemy really brings people together, huh?” 

“Nobody likes feeling threatened.” 

“No. I guess not.” 

Chapter Text

“What do you mean we lost?”

“I mean the Emerald Troops were not built to act on this scale. They were meant for enforcement, not war.”

“Well, war is what we have. The east is in open rebellion, and the north and the west aren’t very far! Did you really kill the old governor?”

“The man was old and overstreesed! He had a heart attack! None of it is my doing.”

“Well, good luck convincing anyone of that! All of Oz thinks I’m a tyrant whose power has gone to his head. I need you to do something, Morrible. And I need you to do it soon.”

They come for her in the middle of the night.

We've finally done it , she thinks. We've pushed them too hard, and now it’s time to pay the price.

Glinda doesn’t want to die.

“Dr. D.” she whispers. “Tell Elphie and Fiyero I loved them, alright?”

“Miss Glinda - “ her teacher and only friend throughout these last few months presses as close as he can to the bars as the guards pull her up, swords in hands (They don’t talk to her. No one is allowed to talk to her, since the letter). “I will. I promise. I will tell them everything.”

Glinda thinks she understands why he cares so much about teaching history, now. no one wants to be forgotten.

She is taken up, up, through endless flights of stairs, through twisting, shadowed hallways. They meet not a single soul on their way – some part of Glinda wonders if anyone but the wizard even lives there, or if the whole place is a giant, empty tomb.

On the way, she wonders where is Elphaba right now, what must have happened in Munchkinland to herald her end. If they will let her speak to the Wizard and Morrible first, to try and plead, or just dispose of her without a second thought. If it will be quick.

She is too busy with those thoughts to follow the route they are taking, realizing they have stopped before a pair of doors only when one of the guards steps forward to open them.

Behind the doors is a wide, well-lit room. With a glance, she can see a soft rug, a comfortable looking sitting area, a half-open door leading to an equally pleasant bedroom. The place is empty, but a fire is lit in the fireplace.

Glinda freezes in bewilderment, staring into the space before her. Then a gauntlet-hand clasps on her shoulder and pushes her inside. She whips around, staring uncomprehending at the men behind her.

“I don’t understand,” she says. “What is going on?”

Without a word, they close the doors behind her.

Slowly, she steps forward, taking stock of the place. It's a guest suite of some sort, she thinks, maybe some sort of diplomatic quarters. (she wonders, for a wild moment, if this may be the place the Wizard was planning to put Elphaba in, back when he first invited her to the castle).

At the far end of the room, there’s another set of doors. At the touch of her hand they open into a wide balcony, and Glinda Upland gets her first breath of fresh air in five months.

The Emerald city spreads beneath her, a sea of glittering light to match the sea of stars above her. Glinda stands there for an impossible amount of time feeling the wind in her hair – the wind, after all this time, after thinking she never will again. There's something cold against her cheek, and she realizes there are tears dripping from her eyes. She doesn’t move to wipe them. She just breaths, and breaths, and breaths.

Then she goes back inside. She is starting to think she may not die tonight. But if she does, she wants to brush her hair first.

There’s a hairbrush in the suite’s bathroom, as well as a few pearly hairpins. The place is equipped with her preferred brand of shampoo, which is as unnerving as it is thrilling.

She spends two hours in the shower, savouring the hot water, allowing herself to forget anything that exists outside this room. There are dresses in the closet – not quite her size and style, but close enough to have been chosen with care. She picks one with lacey edges and puffy sleeves that hides how thin she’d gotten, and then spends thirty more minutes trying to get her hair into acceptable shape; five months with no access to proper products had left it in an atrocious state, and now that she has a mirror she can’t help but cringe at what she can see.

She is nothing if not a professional, though, and at the end of it all the woman in the mirror looks like someone who would belong in Gillikin’s fashion street. Not quite up to her standards, but good enough to allow her to feel closer to herself than she felt in months. Meeting the familiar-stranger's eyes in the mirror, Glinda is as ready to face the world as she will ever be.

Madame Morrible comes to see her shortly after sunrise.

There is no announcement, no guards escorting her. One moment Glinda is sitting there in the strange liminal quiet of this inexplicable night, and the next, the door is open and the enemy is there.

Glinda jumps to her feet. Steps forward to meet Morrible at the door, keeps her steps measured and graceful. Keeps her back straight and her head held high as she comes to face the woman in the doorway. Tries to channel the same steely conviction in which Elphie stood unflinching as she faced down the rulers of their kingdom and denounced all that they were.

Meeting Madame Morrible’s cold gaze, she knows that she’s failing. Glinda isn’t Elphaba, with the fire in her heart and the steel in her bones. She’s trembling and they both know it.

“I see you’ve had the time to make yourself comfortable,” she remarks. “That is for the best, I suppose, as you are the Wizard’s guest.”

Glinda doesn’t bother to challenge that statement, more interested in seeing where this all leads. She tilts her head in silent inquiry and waits.

“As I’m sure you well know – “ (the words are poisonous, but Glinda feels a surge of vindictive pride) “ - the kingdom of Oz has been experiencing a series of tribulationisms over the past few months. There has been a great amount of public concern regarding your safety, and so you have an opportunity to help us solve the situation, and prove yourself – what was it?” her lips thin. “a wise and talented witch in assistance to the Wizard. You should be honoured.”

She looks like she would rather be anywhere else, talking to anyone else. That is nothing new, on itself – that is how she always looked when she’s been forced to speak with Glinda. But there’s something else there, in the way she utters every word like they burn her tongue. Like she’s giving up something by speaking them.

Oh. Glinda understands, now, and she would be laughing was she not so furious.

“ Are we misunderstanding, Madame Morrible?” Glinda inquires, calm facade only barely held back from cracking. “I don’t think we are. And I am not honoured. In fact, I am angry. Angry about everything you’ve done to me, and angry that after all that, you think this will be enough to win me over. I don’t think we’re going to resolve this, Madame Morrible. In fact, I don’t think we have anything to talk about at all. I think you should go away, now, and tell the Wizard I want to speak with him and no one else.”

“Don’t be obtuse, girl,” Madame's voice cracks like a whip. “Take your little promotion and title and make well with them. If you prove yourself, you may win yourself a fair bit of status and influence out of this whole fiasco. It is more than you rightly deserve. Getting greedy now will only make your situation worse.”

Her eyes are two shards of ice, and she’s looking at Glinda like she’s a particularly disgusting roach found down in the cells. Five months ago it would have been enough to cow her. Right now, it barely means anything at all. “I will speak to the Wizard. And no one else.”

“You - “

Glinda doesn’t relent. “You’ve lost control. You're cornered. And I don’t have to give you a single thing. The Wizard , Madame.”

She turns her back to her teacher, letting her know the conversation is over. She keeps her gaze fixed on the flames dancing in the fireplace, not reacting to the sounds behind her – a sharp breath; a bitten off word; a sigh; footsteps. And finally, the sound of the door to the room opening and closing shut.

After Madame Morrible leaves, Glinda waits half an hour. When no soldiers come barging in to execute her for her insolence, she figures it will take some times before she receives any sort of proper response. Seeing no reason to spend that time staring at the tapestry and worsening the condition of her nails, she retreats to the bedroom and goes to sleep in a proper bed for the first time in a good long while.

She wakes up a bit after noon, lazy sunlight spilling on her face from the window she’d left open, and takes a long moment to bask. When she emerges back to the sitting room she finds it still empty, but someone had left a tray fool of food at the table, and it is still a bit warm. Turns out the Wizard’s honoured guests eat better than his prisoners.

There is a large, green clock on the western wall. Its loud ticking follows her wherever she goes in the suite, but at least it allows her to keep watch of the time far better than the dungeon’s narrow window.

At seven p.m., there is a man at her door. He is dressed in all-green livery, and stands there only long enough to hand her a heavy scroll tied with a ribbon before retreating, the door slamming back in her face. Opening it, the looping letters inside informs her she is to come before the Wizard tomorrow morning, and make her case.

At eight p.m., a servant shows up with her supper. She tries to talk to her, asking for a pair of scissors and a lipstick – she has a meeting in the morning, after all – but the terrified-looking woman refuses to talk to her, simply handing her the tray and fleeing from the room. Glinda wonders if Boq has discovered her absence already, what report he may have made. There is no plausible way for a dungeon servant to make his way to this tower, where the honoured guests live. Her last channel to the outside world cut, this is as prepared as she’s going to be.

At eleven p.m., there is a sound from the balcony.

Glinda stands up. Slowly, slowly, she makes her way toward the closed doors at the far end of the room. She feels small and exposed, suddenly, alone in this wide comfortable room. They did not give her back her magic staff, but then she’d had to teach herself how to work without it, anyway. She manages to summon an orb of bright pink light into her hand. It cannot do much harm, but she hopes it looks intimidating. She should have practiced her powerful witch face more when she’d had the time.

She counts back from ten in her head and then, rushing forward, slams the doors open and bursts into the balcony.

Then time stands still.

She is standing right outside, broom in hand, as though she’d stepped out of one of Glinda’s idle daydreams. Her head is windswept, her hat slightly askew, and she is so beautiful it feels impossible. Her eyes widen as Glinda bursts out, her own shock reflected in that familiar, beloved face. One of her hands, raised as though she was about to strike the doors, falls to her side.

"Elphie?" Whispers Glinda. "Is that really you?"

The sound of her voice seems to free Elphie from whatever spell she was caught in. She rushes forward, and she has to be real, because her hands are grasping Glinda so tight it hurts, her breath warm and real against her skin when she pulls her close. There’s something wet glinting in her eyes.

"I'm sorry I didn't come sooner, Glinda. I’m so sorry.” She makes a sound that is half laugher, half sob. “Oz, I’m so glad to see you again.”

“Oh, Elphie ,” Glinda’s voice cracks. She buries her fingers in dark hair, buries her face in a familiar dark cloak, holds on holds on holds on.

After a minute or so, Elphaba pulls back, only barely. There are tear-tracks on her face, but the certainty is back in her eyes.

“Come on. We should move before they notice and send the monkeys after us.” When Glinda blinks at her uncomprehendingly, she lifts her broom, letting it float beside them. “I couldn’t get into the dungeon, but here I have an open route. We can be at my sister’s manor by sunrise.”

Get on. just like in Glinda’s memories, her dreams, her distant fantasies constructed in the empty hours. She drinks it all in – the broom, the sky, the woman.

And then she steps back.

“No,” she says. “Not yet.”

“What do you mean, not yet?” Elphaba turns to stare at her, and they’ve been here before, haven’t they? “Glinda, we have to move now.”

She steps forward again, unable to stand the distance, and grasps Elphaba’s forearm.

“I need you to listen to me. I have a plan. I can talk to the Wizard - “

“Talk to him? He put you in a dungeon . We are way past talking.” Elphaba shakes her head. “You can’t seriously mean to stay here again. Glinda – “

“Elphie.” something in the tone of her voice must catch her attention. “Elphie, do you trust me?”

Elphaba reaches to touch her face. “I do. I really do.”

“If this doesn’t work you can come and get me. They won’t even know you were here. But I have to try and fix this first. It can end with talking – that's how these things work. It has to. Elphie,” she pleads. “You did your part. Now it’s time I did mine.” she presses hand to Elphaba’s, her friend squeezing back unthinkingly. “Defying gravity, right? You and I.”

"You and I,” Elphaba agrees softly.

Glinda smiles at her, brighter and wider than she managed in months. “Just you wait and see.”

And then Elphaba kisses her.

It's funny, how Glinda doesn’t see it coming, for all that she prides herself on her ability to read people. And how inevitable it feels the moment it does happen. Elphaba's lips are cool and chapped and her hand is steady on Glinda’s cheek and it’s forever before they both pull away.

They stare at each other, breathless. The city lights reflect in Elphaba’s irises, impossibly bright.

“Elphie – “

“Three days. I will come for you in three days.”

“Three days,” Glinda agrees softly. “I will be waiting.”

Fiyero waits for her at the edge of the western border, crouched in shadow of the woods with his hand on the hilt of his sword. They'd known, when they’d gotten the news from Boq, that this would be a one-woman operation. But he’d insisted on being there anyway – being the first to know if anything went wrong.

He spots her as soon as she comes close, and even from above Elphaba can see the disappointment and dread filling his face when he realizes she is alone. He is there as soon as her feet touch the ground. “What happened?”

“She said she had to stay.”

She – what? And you let her?” Elphaba can’t fault him for his disbelieving tone. She herself can’t believe she’d done this – that she had her back, held her in her arms, just to let her go again. Maybe Fiyero, of all people, can understand. She’d envied him bitterly, back in the beginning, when he could visit Glinda while she could not. She hadn’t considered how much that might hurt. Oz, she really is a terrible friend, isn’t she?

“She has a plan,” she explains, somewhat lost. “She said she needs a little more time.”

Fiyero stares at her for a moment. When he realizes no further information is forthcoming, he begins to laugh helplessly. “I suppose it was a bit much to expect Glinda Upland to take the discreet way out. Any idea what spectacle are we to expect?”

Oz, she wishes. She should have stayed and insisted, should have made her explain. But the risk of discovery had been so heavy. “She’s going to negotiate, I think. She thinks she can end this.”

“Really?” Fiyero’s eyes are thoughtful now, nerves replaced by calculation. “Our victory three days ago had to have shaken them, but I didn’t think – I hope she knows what she’s doing.” He shakes his head. “Well, if nothing else, I’m very glad you made it back. If it had been a trap, we would all be in trouble.”

He smiles at her, easy and warm, and she can’t stand this.

“I kissed your fiancé.”

The words hang in the air, mad and irrefutable. Fiyero blinks: “I’m sorry?”

Elphaba exhales. “I kissed your fiancé.”

(She should probably say ‘I’m sorry’. But she isn’t sure that she is, and she won’t lie to him.)

His face is entirely unreadable. Oz, didn’t she used to be good at reading him? “Technically, I don’t have a fiancé.”

“You know what I mean.” She closes her eyes. “Oz, I’m making such a mess of all this, and it’s not the time - “

She opens her eyes at the touch of his hand on her cheek. Meeting his gaze, he doesn’t look angry. There’s a spark of fondness in his eyes. “I think all of this has been a mess for quite a while. She did run off to dance with you on our first date.”

Elphaba’s mouth is dry. “You said you didn’t mind.”

“I didn’t. It was beautiful to see.”

His hand is still touching her face, the same place she touched Glinda only an hour ago. She tries to steady her racing, swirling thoughts. “Still. It wasn’t fair of me.”

“No, I guess it wasn't really.” He gives her a small, crooked smile. “So how about I kiss you now to make us all even, and we figure out the rest of it when the Emerald city is ours?”

And, well, she has already made two reckless, foolish decisions this evening. Might as well make it three.

At six a.m., a group of soldiers come to escort her to speak with the Wizard.

Glinda meets them at the door, dressed in the second-best dress from the closet – it wouldn’t do to look like she was trying too hard. She found some make-up in the bathroom, eventually; not her preferred brands, but good enough to hide the dark circles under her eyes.

She feels their eyes on her as they make their way to the Wizard's chambers together. She wonders who it is that they see. What have they heard? Who do they think she is? She almost opens her mouth to ask, but thinks better of it. Better to stay focused on the task ahead.

The room at the top of the castle has changed little since the last time Glinda’s been to it. Same high ceilings and marble floors, the giant head hanging motionless in the centre. The Grimmerie’s pedestal is still there, bare and empty. The model miniature of Oz looks different, now, shining roads covered by dozens of miniature troops in different colours. There is a table set out in the middle of it, two chairs, and the Wonderful Wizard of Oz is seated, waiting. on the other side of the table there is a cup of hot cocoa. Sitting down, Glinda finds that it's hot.

“Hello, Glinda,” the Wizard smiles at her. “It’s been a minute, hasn’t it?”

“It certainly has. We just have so much to talk about.” She smiles beatifically and glances at the guards surrounding them. “We should do so in privacy, wouldn’t you say?”

They tense. After a moment, the Wizard tips his chin at the captain. “Leave us.”

In the echoing silence of the door slamming shut, Glinda takes a sip from her cocoa. The Wizard leans back in his chair and smiles at her benevolently. “I hope you’ve been finding your new accommodation comfortable, my dear. Are the clothes to your liking? Most of that’s produced in the city is green, of course, but we’ve made some effort.”

Glinda leans forward on her elbow. “Oh, I’ve been doing, just, so much better. But you look rather dreadful, dear Wizard, if you don’t mind me saying so.” She presses a delicate hand to her breast. “Things have been so hectic lately. It must be very difficult for you.”

“What makes you say that?” the Wizard tilts his chin.

“Well, the bags under your eyes, of course!” She shakes her head. “Well, and this little map of yours also seems rather concerning. I am not a military strategist, but that does seem like awfully little green between all that blue and red and yellow.”

The Wizard gives her a long look, expression closing. “You’re very clever, aren’t you, Miss Glinda?”

“Oh, I am. Much cleverer than Madame.” His eyes narrow. Glinda makes her play. “She has been failing at her job lately, hasn’t she? I mean, just look at all this!”

The Wizard is many things, but he was never a fool. His eyes never stray from hers as he gives a slight nod of assent. “She has mismanaged some things rather terribly, I admit. I mean, just look at you! I ask her to take care of you until the situation is resolved, and then I find out you’re in a dungeon ! Dreadful, the whole thing. Unprofessional. Is it any wonder the realm is such a mess?”

Glinda nods sympathetically. “It must be very hard to find good ministers in times like this.”

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it. I fear I might have to replace her soon, if matters do not improve. A terrible loss for our fair government.”

Glinda decides there is no point in playing coy any further. “And who would you replace her with?”

The Wizard places down his own cup. “Do you have any suggestions, my dear?”

She takes her shot. “You will find no better candidate than me.”

The corner of the Wizard’s mouth twitches. “And why is that?”

“Look at the results. I got three quarters of the kingdom going to war for me out of jail cell.” She raises her chin and meets his eyes. “I’m better than her. I started this, and I can end this.”

His eyes are intent on hers. “Can you?”

She nods. “I can talk to Elphaba. I will make this all go away.” She takes a sip of her cocoa. “Some concessions will have to be made, of course. Things cannot simply go to the way they were. There will be terms.”

“I’m listening.”

Glinda places her cup on the table with a loud clack and exhales. “First of all, you’re going to get my friend and advisor out of that damn cell. And then, maybe the three of us can draft an agreement that will save this kingdom.”

The Emerald soldiers leave the border in the late morning hours. They have retreated to a ramshackle camp on the other side of the river after their defeat, and there they’ve been for the last few days, lurking. When the scouts send word that they’re moving, Elphaba rushes to fly there, magic brimming under her skin, only to watch as the entire troop packs up its bags and begins the long trek west, towards the city. They leave nothing behind.

At noon, a bird arrives from Winkie, informing them that the soldiers at the western border have likewise retreated. A message from Shenshen’s father arrives an hour later, informing them that the increased soldier presence in the north has been rapidly dissipating.

The messenger shows up shortly before sunset. He is stopped at the border, and is found to be carrying no weapons – carrying nothing but a scroll, meant for the eyes of governor Thropp alone.

The message says, the Wizard is sorry.

The Wizard had been led astray by the selfish and nefarious Madame Morrible, who took advantage of his distance from his people to whisper poison in his ear and tear the kingdom apart out of the wickedness of her power-hungry heart.

He will make an official declaration of that fact, an apology to every single one of his beloved citizens. it had been read to the people of the Emerald city, already. It will be read in Munchkin as soon as the governor gives her approval.

To prevent such awfulness from ever happening again, the Wizard is founding a council comprised of representatives of all kingdoms to advise him. He will be honoured if Governess Nessarose would see fit to send her most trusted subject to sit by his side and oversee the kingdom’s matter, to ensure prosperity and peace for all.

The message is signed by the Wizard of Oz, and by his new minister of diplomacy, Glinda Upland, soon to be representative of Gillikin – as well as her aide, Dr. Dillamond. Elphaba spends a long time staring at those neat signatures.

“The declaration has been read in the town square,” Nessa declares as she comes into the room. “Boq’s sent word that Madame Morrible has been dragged to the dungeon. Apparently, there had been quite a struggle.”

“So she is the scapegoat,” says Elphaba flatly. “And he just gets away with it.”

“He gets some of what he wants. And we get some of what we want. That’s statecraft.” Her sister’s expression is severe, but some of the tension that had lived in her frame for the last several months has been slowly dissipating. “That’s how the real world works, Elphaba. And at least our father’s murderer is paying for it. And us and the other rulers and Dr. Dillamond and Glinda get to call the shots, now. isn’t that that you wanted?”

Elphaba thinks of that moment on the balcony again, of swearing to do whatever it takes to change the way things work. Is this what you wanted? Is this good enough?

“I suppose it’s not bad, at the end of the day.” She raises her head from the letter to look at her sister. “You know it has to be me, right?”

Nessa snorts. “Obviously.”

Time to make good.

Lady Elphaba Thropp of Munchkin and Prince Fiyero of Winkie enter the emerald city on a bright early-summer morning.

The ride through the gates side by side, accompanied by two companies of soldiers, yellow and blue in two straight lines. Fiyero is riding Feldspur, of course, the two of them bickering in whispers on their way to the gate. Elphaba is riding Goldie, her father’s favourite horse – a beautiful creature she’d always loved looking at, who looks happy to be out for the first time since his passing. Elphaba is wearing her finest black dress, her hat cocked on her head. The black cloak she’d stolen from this city all those months ago replaced, at least for today, with a dark blue one embroidered with Munchkinland’s crest. Nessa had tied it around her shoulders herself when she sent her off this morning, in front of a cheering crowd of Munchkins.

“Represent us with honour,” she said, her tone severe but her eyes smiling. Elphaba had thought, for a moment, of her father, who was never proud of her, of dreams, forming and dying and changing.

There are crowds here too, the people of the Emerald city filling the streets to try and get a look at two of the representatives to the Wizard’s new and illustrious council. Quadling will send their own representative, of course – and pay for their inaction in the struggle in the fact that he is a latecomer, lacking the notoriety and the cooperation of the other three. So it goes.

At the end of the road, they reach the main square, where Glinda and Elphaba had danced at the Wizomania in a distant, more innocent age. The place is filled to burst, banners and balloons hanging everywhere; hand reaching out to them, voices yelling their names. They stop and dismount before the castle’s doors. The doorman bellows some loud introduction, but the words don’t really register in Elphaba’s mind. Her eyes are fixed on the entrance, as the doors finally creak and open.

The Wizard stands in the doorway, facing his people – a man of flesh and blood for them to see. There’s a moment of silent awe, and in it, he looks directly at Elphaba, and their eyes meet.

Then he is shoved carelessly out of the way when a small figure in bright pink bursts out of the castle and rushes forward to meet them. Fiyero meets her halfway and she nearly collides with him, calling out his name. laughing, he picks her up, whirling her around in the air. Glinda shrieks, then starts laughing, too. The sound bubbles out of her, filling the air, spreading among the people, all of the Emerald city swept in her brightness and her joy.

They are unbearably beautiful, and Elphaba wants to laugh, or weep, or dance. She raises her hands and lets her magic flow, and a thousand colourful stars come spilling from them, blooming like flowers in the sky above, making the celebration banners pale in comparison.

The cheers increase around her, a thousand pairs of eyes watching her in adoration, like a child’s silly dream. A thousand, and two more.

“Why, Miss Elphaba,” Glinda says, voice slightly hoarse. “Look at you.”

And for a small eternity they just look at each other, every single one of the thousands of people surrounding them falling away. Elphaba remembers two girls standing right here on these cobblestones, promising to make a life together in this city. And now here they are. Here they are.

Elphaba reaches out a hand, and Glinda takes it, her fingers slotting between her own like they’ve never been apart at all. Then Fiyero grasps her other hand, his fingers calloused and familiar. The three of them stand there together, a connected chain; a complete unit among the crowd, facing the looming castle before them.

Glinda catches her looking at the figure in the doorway. “Are you ready?”

“Oh, I’m ready.” Elphaba takes the first step, leading the three of them toward the door, toward the future. “Let’s go change the world.”