Chapter Text
The pink, almost-translucent bubble around her melted away with a satisfying pop. This Munchkin village was the last place she had to visit before she could return to the Emerald City, and Glinda was exhausted. Her head was buzzing from the coffee she'd forced herself to drink throughout the day, after another sleepless night, and her hands were twitching. Last place. This was the last place. She had to keep repeating it otherwise she was afraid she'd collapse onto the ground right then and there.
Glinda forced a smile onto her face, pushing down the regret and grief that was threatening to rise.
"It's good to see me, isn't it?" she giggled, casually tossing her hair over one shoulder, and tilting her head to the side in a way that made her look happy.
The crowd, however, didn't react, or at least not in the way Glinda expected them to. Their faces contorted into scowls, and dirty glances flashed around, as if waiting for something to happen. Awkwardly, Glinda giggled again, "Isn't it?" This time she phrased it like a question, a tinge of unease seeping through her facade and into her voice.
A young child suddenly pointed his chubby finger in her direction, and for a moment, Glinda felt hopeful - this was surely just some delayed reaction to her arrival.
"Look, muma, it's that Wicked Witch!" the child exclaimed. Glinda's brow furrowed. She looked nothing like Elphie, she was hardly ever associated with her. There was no way one could jumble the two of them up. And just as Glinda was about to open her mouth and correct him, a booming voice played from nowhere and everywhere all at once.
"Yes, that is the true Wicked Witch," Glinda instantly recognised it. The elegant way she pronounced her words made it so you could almost see the waves of her white hair as you heard her.
"As you know, she was sided with the Wicked Witch this whole time,"
Nods and murmurs of agreement burst from the crowd.
"And because of this, I have tasked you with a very important job."
Glinda knew Morrible could be cruel. She had been a victim of it herself, during her elongated stay at the Emerald Palace. But what the old crone said next was far from Glinda's wildest idea.
"You are to burn the witch at the stake!"
Glinda sucked in an unsteady breath as the Munchkins erupted into bloodthirsty cheers, lit torches seeming to appear of thin air in their hands. A huge statue made of scrap wood was wheeled in from the other side of the square. It was clearly supposed to depict Elphie, but it looked nothing like her - a large hooked nose, and an exaggeratedly bony body. Glinda would've burnt it herself if the crowd wasn't already going to do it for her.
A large group of people surged up the stairs to Glinda's platform, hundreds of hands latching onto some part of her body. The reality of being killed hadn't really hit Glinda yet, evident through her lack of struggle at the kidnapping. She was dragged down onto the ground, dress tearing and dragging in the dirt. The Munchkins trampled all over it, not caring in the slightest. It was all going up in flames anyway. It was then that Glinda really started to struggle, twisting this way and that, trying to release herself from the grasp of dozens of grubby hands all over her. She wriggled and screamed and bit and scratched, but the group chosen for her capture paid it no mind, as if they were hypnotised. And maybe they were - Glinda wouldn't put it past Morrible.
When they reached the ugly statue, two burly men tied thick, coarse ropes around her neck, wrists and ankles. He pulled them all slightly too tight, but not tight enough that they cut off her circulation.
Glinda was stuck, Munchkins' faces jeering and shouting at her.
Morrible was standing on the platform where she was supposed to be, cackling. How had she even escaped the jail? Glinda had made sure her cell was guarded personally 24/7. If she somehow survived this ordeal, she was going to have to look into hiring better and more loyal staff. Morrible's eyes danced in delight, a sick glee pouring out of her every crevice.
"I win," Morrible mouthed, grinning like an evil villain. Her eyes suddenly snapped down to the crowd, and Glinda followed her gaze. The Munchkins with the flaming torches were gathering at the base of the statue, ready to set it alight. In a plume of smoke, the tips of the statues skirt was set alight, and the flames began to slowly creep up towards Glinda. The anticipation was much worse than when the flames finally licked the bottom of her heels. The people had started chanting, yelling and demanding Glinda die. The fire spread further up, directly on her feet now. The pain was incomprehensible, indescribable. It was worse than anything Glinda has ever physically felt.
Morrible's evil eyes staring into her soul, remorseless, hurt more than the flames that were inching up her body, though. It wasn't exactly betrayal, Glinda knew Morrible had always hated her, but she never thought it'd go quite this far. Murder was a hard thing to have on your conscious. She had it on hers - Nessa's, Elphie's, countless Animals' live all wound up in Glinda's hands.
She might have been crying, she might have been shouting, she might have been desperately trying to wiggle out of her bonds, but the fire was so hot her whole body seemed to go numb and her senses stopped working.
"Burn her!"
"Kill the real Wicked Witch!"
Angry red faces spat at Glinda, launching profanities into the air as if there weren't children running around somewhere - or there had been, Glinda couldn't make out much anymore, her eyes were so watery from the smoke and heat. She could feel the sooty air travelling through her throat and clogging up her lungs. She could feel everything and nothing all at once. Cold and hot. Anger and relief. Betrayal and disappointment, if not involving Morrible, than the citizens of this village. How could they turn on her so fast? What could Morrible have possibly told them, other than allegations that she was working with Elphie?
Glinda's head was light and she had to fight to stay awake. To stay alive, though she wasn't sure why she was trying. It was hopeless - she was going to die, a laughing stock for all of Oz. She'd lost everything she had of value: Elphie, and now her popularity, the very thing that got her into this situation in the first place. She had failed. Everything about her had failed her. What use was popularity if it would just be turned against you in the end? If Glinda could go back, if she could change one thing... Lurline, there was so much that needed fixing. But Glinda knew what would be different. She would go with Elphaba, from the start. She would get on that broomstick, fears be damned, and fly off with Elphie. They could've escaped outside of Oz, and lived a happy domestic life in a small village of other outcasts. Glinda would ask Elphaba to marry her, and Elphaba would say yes. And they'd have three half-green children together, and live happily ever after. A little pocket of bliss, oblivious to the pain in Oz. Glinda let herself soak in the thought for only a few seconds. There was no point dwelling on what could've been, especially seeing as in a matter minutes, she would be dead.
This was real life. There were no second chances. Glinda's breath quickened as the flames licked their way up her torso, and the smoke took this as an invitation to make her choke so hard she couldn't breathe.
This was it. It was over. Just like that. All it took was a few false rumours spread by an evil lady who happened to have power, and she was dead. Just the same as Elphie, except this time the evil lady was Morrible, not Glinda.
And maybe Glinda deserved to die. Maybe that's why she's met this fate. But did it really matter whether she deserved it or not? Wanted it or not? She was going to die. She was dying, right there, in front of a cheering crowd. What an awful way to go. As entertainment for the masses. She briefly wondered if this was being broadcast, if the whole of Oz could hear her screams. Were her parents sitting watching a projection of her dying in horror? Or were they more worried about how Glinda's 'betrayal of Oz' would affect their names?
Glinda felt herself slipping away, the pain easing ever so slightly, and her last thought was, At least I'll be with Elphie.
At least we can be happy in death together.