Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Present Day

The guards standing on duty in front of the Emerald Palace saluted when they saw Elphaba, opening the heavy green doors on silent hinges. “Welcome back, Princess Elphaba,” one of them said. 

Elphaba barely managed a nod of acknowledgement. She was already looking inside, scanning the foyer for pink and gold trunks. “Has Miss Galinda arrived yet?” 

“Yes, she’s in her room--” Elphaba hurried upstairs, her bag of library books hitting against her legs. 

Galinda had been given the same guest room she always stayed in, since the first time she’d visited the Emerald Palace when she was only six years old. It was down the hall from Elphaba’s room, wide and spacious, with a balcony overlooking the gardens. One of the walls was still covered in a half finished mural she’d started when she was sixteen, a view of the roaring waterfalls in the Gillikin Peaks. The floors were strewn with half opened trunks, as usual—but today, Galinda wasn’t alone. The room bustled with servants wearing the pink and gold livery of the Arduenna-Uplands. Some of them unpacked Galinda’s things, hanging beautiful pink dresses in the wardrobe and arranging boxes of jewelry on the white and green vanity. But Elphaba noticed that others seemed to hover, with no discernible job: they pretended to straighten pillows and wipe invisible specks of dust off the heavy green duvet, but they never took their eyes off Galinda. 

Something was wrong. Elphaba could feel it in the tightness in the air, in the way that no one would meet her eyes. “Galinda?” she asked, knocking softly on the edge of the doorframe. 

Galinda was sitting on the window seat, staring listlessly at the frenzy of activity unfolding around her. When she looked up at Elphaba, her eyes were tired but her smile was genuine. “Elphie,” she whispered, but her voice held none of its usual excitement. Just the bone deep exhaustion that Elphaba could see in her eyes. “It’s so nice to see you.” 

“You too,” Elphaba said. She hugged her tightly, like her touch alone would be enough to fix everything. They’d known this moment was coming, but she’d hoped they’d have at least a couple more years to themselves. Galinda had just graduated from Shiz a couple of weeks ago. They were supposed to have more time. 

But then Fiyero’s older brother had died and he’d found himself first in line to the throne. 

“It seems like you brought more servants than usual,” Elphaba continued, glaring at a maid who looked at them for a moment too long. Galinda didn’t say anything. Elphaba slipped her arm through hers. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk in the gardens.” 

“Elphie, I really need to get ready for the engagement ball--” 

“The engagement ball can wait,” she said in a voice that dared anyone argue with her. She was willing to use her position to her advantage if it was for a good cause. Besides, the engagement ball could hardly start without the bride—or the Princess of Oz. “The green roses have just started to bloom. I want you to see them.” 

Galinda followed her down the back stairwell and into the sprawling expanse of the Emerald Palace’s gardens. Elphaba pulled Galinda into the hedge maze, breathing a sigh of relief as the topiary shut out the sounds of the city around them.. They had gotten lost in the maze so many times they knew it by heart. They knew which dark corners were farthest away from the palace and which were closest to flowing fountains, so the ripple of water could cover their voices.. “It’s that bad?” Elphaba asked, as soon as they were alone. 

“I tried to run away, earlier in the summer,” Galinda said. “It was stupid. I got to the train station and someone recognized me and notified Father. He caught up with me in Settica and since then he’s been telling the servants he’ll double their pay if they spy on me.” 

Elphaba didn’t think she’d ever hated someone as much as she hated Highmuster Arduenna in that moment. “He’s a monster.” 

“He’s protecting his investment,” Galinda said, her voice tired. “He knows that if he doesn’t lock me up I’ll run away. I’d do the same thing, if I were him.” 

“No you wouldn’t. You would never let things get this far. You would never force your daughter to marry a man she didn’t love, no matter what kind of agreements you’d made.” Elphaba snatched a handful of leaves off of the topiary and started to shred them absentmindedly, the broken pieces fell around their feet. “Does Fiyero know?” 

“I’ve tried to tell him, but we haven’t been allowed to be alone together. Last I heard, his father was watching him too.” Galinda watched the leaves flutter to the ground, falling around her feet like the Frottican snow. “He’s in love with a childhood friend. He doesn’t want this either. It’s not his fault, Elphie. He’s still grieving his brother.” 

Elphaba started to pace. She felt the wind picking up around her, responding to her foul mood. “The marriage can’t be allowed to go through. You’ll both be miserable.” 

Galinda took her hands. Her touch instinctively stilled Elphaba, as it always did, sending a deceptive ribbon of calm through her. “The papers have already been signed. And it won’t be that bad. I don’t love Fiyero—I don’t think I’ll ever love him—but he’s a good man. He’ll treat me well. We’re friends. That’s a good enough foundation for a marriage, don’t you think?” 

“I certainly do not think that.” It didn’t matter how kind Fiyero was. Galinda deserved to be blissfully happy in her marriage. She deserved to marry someone she truly loved, not someone her father was forcing her to wed to expand his own networks of power. But her voice sounded so tired, like she’d just accepted that the wedding was going to happen to her. Elphaba couldn’t believe how much she had changed in the last year they’d been apart. The Galinda she knew would have done anything—begged, borrowed, stolen, even killed—to get out of the engagement, because she knew that she deserved to be happy no matter what her father said . “Have you really given up?” 

Galinda flinched and Elphaba immediately felt terrible. “I don’t want to, Elphie. But I tried and it…he…” She fell silent, picking at a loose thread in her shirtsleeve. “He doesn’t listen. He doesn’t want to listen.”

“Oz, Galinda. We have to do something.” Galinda was the person she loved most in the world, and Elphaba couldn’t just sit back and let this terrible thing happen to her. Perhaps Galinda didn’t have any fight left in her, but Elphaba had enough fight for both of them. 

Father said she’d been a fighter for as long as he’d known her, never content to accept the status quo. She certainly wasn’t going to accept this. She just needed to find a way to fix it. If only she could…

And then the idea came to her. She wondered why she hadn’t thought of it sooner.

She stopped pacing. “What if I married you instead?” 

Galinda looked at her like she was sure she hadn’t heard her correctly, or like she worried Elphaba might be coming down with something. “I’m sorry?” 

“You heard me.” They’d talked about getting married before. And sure, those had been childish daydreams and yes, they’d both been more interested in planning the reception than thinking about the actual wedding itself…but they didn’t have to just be daydreams. They were both of age now. They loved each other. There were chapels that would marry anyone for the right price. “We elope—tonight, if possible. You can’t marry Fiyero if you’re already married to someone else.” 

It was a ridiculous idea, but it might just work. 

Galinda didn’t immediately dismiss the idea out of hand, which meant she was at least seriously considering it. “Elphie, this is a big decision to make. What if you regret it?” Elphaba noticed she didn’t say what if we regret it? 

“I won’t regret it. Not if it’s you. We’ve loved each other since we were kids, since before we knew what love was.” Galinda didn’t deny it. “Why wouldn’t I want to spend the rest of my life with you, especially when it means you don’t have to spend it with a man you don’t love?” 

“Fiyero is kind—” 

“But you don’t love him.” 

She sighed. “It’s not always about love, Elphie. There are expectations on him since his brother died, just like there are expectations on me since Momsie--” 

“But there don’t have to be. Not if we run.” Galinda nibbled at one perfectly manicured fingernail—a nervous tic that she’d had as a child. Elphaba had thought she’d outgrown it. “Please, my sweet. Please let me help you.” 

Finally Galinda met her eyes. She placed one hand over Elphaba’s, their fingers twining together. “Are you sure about this?” she whispered. 

“As sure as I’ve been about anything.” Instinctively Elphaba’s other hand came to her waist to steady her. If this had been a normal day, she would have already kissed Galinda, already buried her fingers in her long blonde hair, already made Galinda’s breath catch in her chest. Wasn’t this what she’d been wanting since before she could put it into words? Sure, she hadn’t exactly expected this—a midnight flight, a rushed engagement, a secret wedding without any of their friends or family—but Highmuster Arduenna had forced her hand. It was time to act now, before it was too late. 

She remembered Lord Upland as she had first known him, when he first came to the Palace to work on a railroad deal with Father. He’d been younger then, and his face wasn’t so lined. His eyes were always sparkling and laughter was never far away. He’d brought her gifts every time he visited-books, fur trimmed winter coats (not that she needed them in the Emerald City, but they matched Galinda’s), watercolors of the view over the Gillikin Peaks. She would never have thought that laughing man would be capable of forcing Galinda to marry a man she didn’t love. 

But Elphaba knew a lot had changed in the intervening years. Lord Upland was no longer that smiling man, and he no longer had his smiling wife by his side. 

Galinda’s smile was small, but the dimple in her cheek emerged. “That’s not much of a proposal, Princess Elphaba.” 

And just like that, Elphaba knew they would be okay. She turned to the hedgerow behind her, carefully plucking off a purple clematis flower. “I’ll find a proper ring when I get to the palace. For now, please accept this flower as a token of my affection.” She gently pressed the delicate bloom into Galinda’s hand and knelt on one knee in the soft, springy grass. “Galinda Arduenna Upland, will you marry me?” 

Galinda pulled her to her feet and practically threw herself into her arms. “Yes, Elphie! A thousand times yes!” She tilted her chin up to kiss her and Elphaba met her halfway, her hands traveling up her back to pull her close. But just as Elphaba tried to deepen the kiss, Galinda’s brow furrowed and she took a step back. “But everyone’s watching me so carefully. However are we going to sneak away?” 

Elphaba hadn’t thought that far ahead yet. “We’ll sneak away during the engagement ball. There will be so many people coming and going that no one will notice. I’ll make sure there’s a carriage waiting for us. With any luck we’ll be halfway to Gillikin by the time they figure it out. Do you think your aunt will let us stay with her?” It would be the scandal of the decade, maybe even the century: the Princess of Oz running off with her best friend.  

Galinda squeezed her hand. “You’re really serious about this,” she murmured, almost disbelievingly. 

“Of course I am,” Elphaba replied. “If you don’t want to marry Fiyero, you won’t have to. And that’s a promise.” She didn’t break promises if she could help it. 

“I can’t say I’ll mind dancing with you one last time,” Galinda said, pressing a kiss to the back of Elphaba’s hand. “You were always my best dancing partner.” 

“It’s only the last time for now, my sweet,” Elphaba said. “Once we’re married we can dance as much as you want to.” Perhaps they wouldn’t be dancing in palaces anymore, or on the neatly polished parquet floor of the Upland manor. Perhaps they would be dancing on a chipped stone floor, or a creaky wooden floor, or a floor made out of dirt. It didn’t matter to Elphaba. 

She would be with Galinda. That was the most important thing. 

That had always been the most important thing.

16 Years Ago

Elphaba sat on the nursery’s green and white striped window seat and watched the visitors walk up the Emerald Palace’s wide front steps.  

Visitors weren’t unusual in and of themselves; Father often had industrialists from Gillikin or politicians from Munchkinland or princes from Quadling Country or chieftains from the Vinkus over to talk about his new engineering projects or to ratify new trade agreements. But it was rare for guests to bring their families, and Highmuster Arduenna Upland had brought his wife and child. 

Lady Upland looked like a princess out of one of Nessa’s storybooks, with her elaborate curls piled on top of her head and her large dark eyes. She wore a mauve coat over her lavender dress and matching heels that clicked against the stone stairs with each step she took. She was holding her daughter’s hand. Galinda Upland was six years old and she had a head of blonde curls, just like her mother. Her brow was furrowed in concentration as she climbed the stairs, the gap between each step a challenge for her small legs. Father said that Galinda Upland was going to be her playmate, but Elphaba doubted it. Elphaba was almost eight. Father said she needed to meet more people, but she no intention of spending the whole weekend with someone who was practically a baby.

“Surely you get lonely here,” Father had said at dinner the night before. “This palace is a pretty big place to have all to yourself.” 

“I don’t have it all to myself,” Elphaba replied, dragging a fork through her mashed potatoes. “You’re here. And Nessa is here, sometimes..” 

“But she isn’t here now, is she?” That made Elphaba pout. She loved Nessa, just as much as if they’d had the same father. She wished Nessa could live at the Emerald Palace all the time, not just a few weeks a year when Lord Frexspar let her visit. “Galinda is going to be here all summer, while her father and I work on the railroad plans.” Oz’s railroad was small, but Father said it would grow. He’d already built a branch to Shiz and he was negotiating with the Gillikinese businessmen who owned major stakes in the railroad companies so he could build more. Almost nobody owned more stakes than Highmuster Arduenna. 

But Elphaba didn’t want to play with a baby. And other children tended to cry when they saw her. Elphaba didn’t blame them—her verdigris took a little getting used to—but it didn’t make her feel good. But Father wanted her to meet the Uplands, so she would. 

“And you remember you’ll both be going to the ball tomorrow night?” 

“Of course I remember, Father.” It was going to be the very first ball that Elphaba had ever been allowed to attend, and she suspected Father was allowing her to go as a thank you for entertaining Galinda while her parents were busy in boring industry meetings. Father threw a few major balls throughout the year, with lavish decorations and a full orchestra to accompany the dancers that filled the ballroom until after dawn, but he’d always said Elphaba was too young to go. Until now. 

“Galinda is younger than you, so you’ll have to look after her. But Lord Upland tells me she loves to dance.” 

“Good. I love dancing too.” 

“I know you do, kid.” They shared conspiratorial smiles. Father loved to dance too. He’d taught Elphaba some dances that he’d brought from his world by letting her stand on his shoes while they promenaded around the empty ballroom. “And give Miss Galinda a chance, why don’t you? Who knows-maybe she’ll surprise you.” And Elphaba doubted it, but here she was in her best navy dress with her neatly styled hair and her best patent leather shoes that her nanny said she wasn’t allowed to scuff on pain of death (or at least a week of dinners without dessert). 

Nanny knocked on the nursery door and cleared her throat, startling Elphaba out of her reverie. “Your father is ready for you, your Highness.” Elphaba straightened, brushed a nonexistent piece of dirt off of her skirt so that Nanny wouldn’t have to, and then walked downstairs with the even and measured steps she used when she was being a Princess.

Father was waiting for her on the landing. “Ready?” he asked, extending his arm to her. 

“Ready,” she said, as they went downstairs to meet their guests. Each of their footsteps echoed off of the high ceilings. The palace was noisy like that; almost every room had an echo. 

They were waiting in the foyer when the Uplands finally stepped inside. Lord Upland took his wife’s coat, handing it off to a passing servant. “Your Ozness,” he said, bowing deeply. He smiled at Elphaba. “Princess Elphaba. How nice to see you again.” She liked Highmuster Arduenna. Every time he came to talk with Father he brought her little gifts-oil paintings of the Gillikin peaks, books about Gillikin’s wildlife, horseshoes from the Upland stables. 

“Thank you Lord Upland,” she said. She didn’t curtsey, because Father said she was a princess and princesses didn’t curtsey for anyone. 

“Allow me to introduce my wife, Larena, and my daughter, Galinda.” 

“How lovely to meet you, Your Ozness—and Princess Elphaba.” Lady Upland curtseyed deeply, but Father took her hand and raised her to her feet. 

“There’s no need for that kind of ceremony,” he said. “Not when your husband is financing half of the railroads in Gillikin—” 

Little Galinda gasped. Her big dark eyes were fixed on Elphaba and Elphaba steeled herself. “You’re green!” she said, as if Elphaba might not have noticed. 

“I am,” Elphaba said, her voice clipped. She prepared to launch into the same speech she always gave. No, I am not seasick. No, I didn’t eat grass as a child. Yes, I have always been green. Father said that the best way to deal with uncomfortable truths was to douse them with a little bit of humor. 

But before she could say any of that, Galinda said “That’s so cool!” She tore her hand away from her mother’s and hurried across the floor. She almost tripped over a dip in the stone, but she caught herself before she could fall. She came to a stop in front of Elphaba and gave her best approximation of a curtsey. “Can we be best friends?” 

Lady Upland finally caught up with her, placing a hand on Galinda’s shoulder and gently but firmly pulling her back a step. “I’m so sorry, your Highness. She’s just excited.” But Galinda wasn’t listening to her and she wasn’t looking at Father. She was staring at Elphaba with an expression that Elphaba had never seen before. 

It almost looked like awe. 

“Sure, we can be friends if you want to,” Elphaba said. She’d never actually had someone ask to be her friend before. Galinda shrieked with delight and pulled away from her mother, throwing her arms around Elphaba. After a moment, Elphaba hugged her back. She glanced back at Father, bewildered, but he seemed to be trying to stifle a laugh. 

“I think they’re going to get along great,” Father said. “Elphaba, do you want to show Miss Galinda to her room? We’ll be downstairs having tea when you’re done.” 

And just like that, Elphaba made her first friend. 

//

Elphaba had only known Galinda for a few hours, but she was beginning to realize that the younger girl was never still. Everything seemed to interest her, from Father’s huge map of Oz to the green cut crystal lamp shades to the green and white masks that had been a diplomatic gift from Quadling Country. It required all of Elphaba’s focus to keep up with her and make sure she didn’t break anything. Galinda asked her questions the whole time: what was it like living in the Emerald Palace, what was it like having the Wizard for a father, what kinds of toys did she have, did she like to play with dolls, where were her favorite places to visit in the Emerald City? As soon as Elphaba answered one question, she’d immediately ask another. It was exhausting. 

Getting ready for the ball was challenging too, because Galinda wouldn’t sit still. She was wearing a pink dress that looked almost identical to what she’d been wearing earlier in the day, except it had a puffier skirt. Instead of letting the maids style her hair she twirled around on the blue carpet in front of the fireplace until she fell to the ground and stared up at the ceiling, laughing. “Do you like to dance too, your Highness?” she asked, looking up at her. In the firelight her dark brown eyes almost seemed liquid, like chocolate. 

“I do,” Elphaba said, trying to set a good example by sitting still and not wincing, even when the maid accidentally yanked on one of her braids. She’d just been hired a month before and Father said she was probably nervous; most of the servants were at first, until they realized that he and Elphaba weren’t scary at all. They were just like every other family in Oz, except they were a little bit smaller than normal. Mother had died when Elphaba was three, while giving birth to her younger sister Nessa. Lord Frexspar had never forgiven her for it. Father hadn’t even known Elphaba existed until she was three. Then he’d arrived to take her to the Emerald City, like a magnanimous king out of a storybook. Besides Nessa, Elphaba didn’t have any other brothers or sisters. She didn’t mind the quiet, most of the time. In fact, she was starting to miss it the longer she spent with Miss Galinda. “And you don’t have to call me your Highness. You can call me Elphaba, since we’re friends.”

Galinda sat up and one of the maids approached with the curling iron. “What dances do you like?” 

“Any of them,” Elphaba replied. “I love dancing.” 

Galinda beamed. Her smile was adorably lopsided; she was missing one of her bottom teeth. “Me too. But I’ve never been to a grown up ball.” 

“Me neither. But I know the best place in the palace to watch the guests arrive.” 

Galinda’s eyes lit up. “Can you show me, Elphaba?” She tripped over the unfamiliar name a little bit. 

“You can call me Fabala, if it’s easier. That’s what my little sister calls me. And yes, I can show you—but only if you sit still while they finish getting you ready.” Galinda obediently sat down in her chair in front of the mirror. The maid with the curling iron shot Elphaba a look of silent thanks. Elphaba tried to give her a nonchalant look, like she watched hyperactive six year olds all the time and knew exactly how to make them sit still.

Somehow Galinda managed to stay still long enough for the maids to finish arranging her hair and smoothing out the creases on her dress. By 7:00 they were ready to go downstairs. Galinda was practically vibrating with excitement. Elphaba had to hold her hand so she wouldn’t pick at her hair after the maids had spent so much time carefully arranging it. They walked down the stairs carefully, so Galinda wouldn’t trip, and then along the long green carpet that led to the open ballroom doors. “Wow,” Galinda whispered as they stepped inside. 

For once, Elphaba agreed with her. The ballroom had been entirely transformed, until it felt like they were standing in the middle of a garden even though they were inside. Greenery crawled across the windows and tall potted plants sat in the corners of the room. Ivy trailed along the polished wooden floor, though it stayed well away from the dance floor so no one would trip. There were vases of orchids on every table and the entire room smelled sweet, like the perfume Elphaba could barely remember her mother wearing. 

Father saw her and waved her over. He was standing near the windows with the Uplands and a handful of Emerald City bankers. “This place is amazing!” Galinda said when she reached her parents, slipping her hand into her mother’s without a second thought. For just a moment Elphaba felt a pang of loneliness because she didn’t have a mother who could take her hand or admire her dress. Not anymore. 

As if he’d heard her thoughts, Father placed his hand on her shoulder. “You look nice, kid. Very grown up.” She beamed and he set his drink down on the table behind him, holding out his hand to her. “May I have this dance?” 

She curtseyed just like her dancing instructor had taught her to. “Of course, Father.” 

The crush of people parted for them as the band started to play again. For the first few bars Father had to guide her through the steps because she was too busy looking around at everything: the delicate finger sandwiches sitting on the refreshment table, the crystal glasses of sparkling green alcohol behind the bar, the women in their beautiful dresses that spanned the entire spectrum of green. And above them the lights in the chandelier, glittering like stars. 

Father was a good dancer, but Elphaba was better. Sometimes she had to remind him to turn the other way, or promenade on his right foot when he was trying to promenade on his left. But he made an effort for her and that was all that mattered. On the other side of the dance floor, she heard Galinda laugh as her father spun her around, pushing her away from him and then pulling her close again. “How is she?” Father asked, following her line of sight. “A nuisance?” 

“Yes,” Elphaba said. “But she’s funny too. And sweet. I like her.” 

“You don’t think you’ll mind taking her under your wing for the rest of the summer?” She shook her head. “Good.” He squeezed her hands and bowed to her as the song drew to a close. “I knew I could count on you, kid.” She stood up a little straighter, happy to be someone that the Wizard of Oz could count on. “Look—I need to go back and talk to those bores over there.” He gestured back to the bankers. “But you and Galinda should enjoy yourselves. Dance all you want. Have a good time. That’s an order.” He winked, adjusting his green bow tie. 

She giggled. “Yes, Father.” As he headed off the dance floor she went to find Galinda. “Do you want to dance?” she asked, while Galinda watched her father retreat into the crowd. 

The little girl’s face scrunched up. For a minute Elphaba thought she was going to cry. “I’ve never danced with a girl before,” she said. 

“It’s just the same as dancing with a boy. Do you want me to show you?” She held out a hand as the band segued into a new tune, something happy and upbeat. Galinda slipped her hand into hers. 

Galinda was a surprisingly good dancer. She was a little bit clumsy sometimes but she recovered quickly, and she seemed to like dancing just as much as Elphaba did. She knew exactly where to put her hands, exactly when to lean closer and when to step back. She giggled as she twirled under Elphaba’s arm, as one dance bled into two and then three, until Elphaba lost count. They danced dance after dance. Other couples rotated around them, men and women exchanging partners or drifting towards the refreshments table or noticing someone on the opposite side of the ballroom that they absolutely had to speak to. Elphaba’s only obligation was to Galinda, and Galinda didn’t want to stop dancing and neither did she. 

But eventually Galinda started having to hide her yawns behind her hand and her steps slowed. “Do you want to go see your mother?” Elphaba asked, and she nodded silently. 

“You must have had a good time,” Father said when they came over. Lady Upland scooped Galinda into her arms before Galinda could ask; Galinda rested her head against her shoulder and closed her eyes. For just a moment Lord Upland’s eyes narrowed, like he thought it was disrespectful for his daughter to sleep in front of the Wizard of Oz. Elphaba wanted to tell him that Father wouldn’t mind. He wasn’t as stuck up as he pretended to be. “I thought you two were going to dance all night.” 

“We almost did,” Elphaba said, hiding her own yawn. 

Father chuckled, checking his watch. “Well, it’s far past your bedtime. I think it’s probably time for both of you to get to bed.” Elphaba wanted to protest but he said “You did well, kid. There’ll be plenty of other balls. Don’t worry about this one.” So Elphaba nodded and hugged him and followed Lady Upland upstairs to Galinda’s guest bedroom. She was still carrying Galinda, who was fast asleep in her arms. 

“Thank you for looking after her, your Highness,” Lady Upland said. Elphaba hovered in the doorway, watching as she laid Galinda down on the bed and gently worked the bobby pins out of her hair. One of the servants had already set out a snowy white nightgown.

“I didn’t mind,” Elphaba said. “That’s what friends do.” 

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. You’ve been a very good friend to her tonight, your Highness.” Galinda murmured sleepily and Lady Upland knelt down beside her to whisper something, stroking her hair. The moment was almost unbearably tender, and Elphaba suddenly felt like she was intruding. She turned and walked silently back down the hallway to her own room. She let the maids undress her silently too, listening to the faint strains of music and the chatter of guests drifting up from the ballroom. 

Maybe if her mother was still alive, she would have taken care of her just like Lady Upland had taken care of Galinda. Maybe she would have helped her out of her dress and tucked her into bed, sending her off to dreamland with a soft kiss on the forehead.

//

When Elphaba woke up her room was dark, and Galinda Upland was frantically trying to worm her way under the covers beside her. “What are you doing?” Elphaba whispered. “How did you get here?” It must have been very late because she could no longer hear any noise coming from the ballroom. 

Galinda sniffled. “It was dark. I got scared.” She looked at Elphaba suddenly, her dark eyes wide in the soft light of the lamp that Nanny always left lit in case Elphaba woke up in the middle of the night. 

Elphaba pulled down the covers. Galinda wrapped her arms around her, clinging onto her like a particularly determined barnacle. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “When I was your age, I got scared of the dark too.” 

Galinda was quiet for so long that Elphaba was beginning to think she’d fallen asleep. Then she said “I had a really good time dancing with you, Elphie.” 

“Elphie?” 

“It’s my nickname for you. Do you like it?” 

Elphaba thought it was a little perky, but she didn’t mind. No one had ever given her a nickname before, except for Nessa, and that didn’t count because she was just a baby and she hadn’t been able to say Elphaba’s name. “I do.” 

Galinda nodded, satisfied. “I really liked dancing with you tonight. Can we dance together at the next ball, maybe?” 

“Sure. I liked dancing with you too.” She didn’t know when they’d get a chance to dance at the same ball again, but she meant it. Galinda was certainly a better dancer than Father. 

“Good,” Galinda said happily, and then she went to sleep. Elphaba lay awake a little longer, stroking her hair like she’d seen Lady Upland do, and then she went to sleep too. 

Galinda followed her everywhere that first summer. When Elphaba was reading in the library she had to be in the library too, even though she preferred to color at the heavy wooden tables. When Elphaba was at her lessons she had to be listening in, even though she didn’t know the first thing about Ozian history or politics. When Elphaba went to play outside in the palace gardens Galinda followed her, even when it meant she got dirt on the hem of her nice pink dresses. At first Elphaba found her constant presence annoying, but then she realized she didn’t mind Galinda so much. Galinda could always be counted on for a laugh and it was…well, nice to always have someone’s full and undivided attention. 

Even if that someone was six. 

Elphaba found Father in his office, looking over the dispatches from Munchkinland. “You can’t let them go through with it. You have to stop this,” she snapped. 

“Hello to you too, kid,” he said, not looking up from his paper as she sat down in the green chair on the other side of his desk. When she was younger she used to play on the floor in front of the fireplace while Father worked at the desk, muttering to himself every now and then as he scribbled notes in the margins. The room still smelled comfortingly of polished wood and his sharp cologne. Not much had changed in the intervening years, although she didn’t have cause to come here as often: there was still the huge wooden desk, cluttered with pictures of Elphaba; the worn rug in front of the fireplace where she’d once spread all her dolls and their various accoutrements; and the shelves along the sides of the room covered in books that were gathering a fine layer of dust. Father thought the books made him look distinguished, even though Elphaba was the reader in the family. 

Elphaba refused to be distracted, leaning forward on the desk until she nearly knocked over a picture of herself with Nessa at a festival in Munchkinland when she was seven. Father grabbed the frame before it could fall over. “You can stop the marriage from going through. You know neither one of them wants this. Galinda says that Fiyero was seeing a girl at home, before he had to break it off. This isn’t true love.” Father had always had a weakness for a good love story. 

He sighed and rubbed the hair at his temples. Elphaba wondered exactly when it had turned fully white. She hadn’t noticed. “I can’t, El. Believe me, I tried to talk some sense into Lord Arduenna. But he wouldn’t hear of it. He says it’s already a done thing. He’s been talking about a match with King Marilott for years now. The contracts are signed and the money has already been exchanged--” 

“But you could make the contracts null and void!” 

“And what kind of precedent does that set? What kind of ruler would I be if everyone knew I could just alter contracts and trade deals on a whim, just because I don’t like them?” 

“What kind of ruler are you if you can’t protect your people?” she shot back.

“I tried to talk to Prince Fiyero, but he says he’s on board with the wedding. With his brother dead…I think he feels he needs to go through with the match, even if it isn’t what he wants. Elphaba, there really isn’t anything I can do.” 

“Even if she doesn’t want it?” 

“That’s not an uncommon circumstance in families like these. It’s rarely ever about what the woman wants.” He fiddled with an emerald pen. “There’s nothing that  I can do without creating a diplomatic incident. Highmuster Arduenna-Upland owns one quarter of Gillikin’s industry. If he starts an economic war against the Emerald City, it will hurt all of us. But that isn’t to say there’s nothing that you can do.” He finally looked up at her with a look that suggested he already knew exactly what she and Galinda had discussed. She opened her mouth, but he raised her hand. “No, don’t tell me. I want plausible deniability. But in case you…need somewhere to go later, remember your mother owned a house in the Glikkus.” Technically it was Elphaba’s now; she’d received the keys for her 21st birthday. “You could always lay low there for a while and wait for everything to blow over.” 

She couldn’t help smiling because it was nice to know that, even now, he still had her back. “Thank you, Father.” 

He waved her off with a conspiratorial smile. “Don’t thank me yet. Go do whatever you think is best-for you and for her.” 

Elphaba certainly didn’t need to be told twice. 

Fourteen Years Ago

Elphaba checked to make sure her nurse was still distracted by her embroidery, and then she pulled her legs up underneath her so she could get a better view out of the train window. She wasn’t supposed to put her feet up on the seat—Nanny said it was terribly unladylike—but she couldn’t help it. She wanted to see every bit of Gillikin that she could. This was the place where Galinda lived. She’d learned to swim in its lakes, to ski on its hills, to ride horses in its green and yellow meadows…and Elphaba had never visited, even though Galinda had spent three summers in the Emerald City. It was almost routine by now: at the beginning of the summer Galinda’s parents dropped her off at the Emerald Palace after a week of railroad discussions and they didn’t come to collect her again until the week of the Harvest Festival. 

But this year, something new had happened: on the night of the Harvest Festival, Lord and Lady Upland had invited Elphaba to a midwinter ball back in Frottica. Apparently they hosted one every year at their honey colored brick house in the foothills of the Gillikin Peaks. Father had been more than happy to let her go. He wholeheartedly approved of her friendship with Galinda. “You’re a different person when she’s with you,” he’d told her one night, while they worked together in his workshop on one of his new inventions. Father was always building something, usually multiple things at once. That night he’d be working on creating boxes with mechanical wings, so that they would be able to send messages to each other from different parts of the palace. 

“That’s a silly thing to say,” she’d said. “Even when I’m with her, I’m still me.” 

“That’s true enough, but you’re a…friendlier version of yourself.” He gently tapped one of the box’s wings with a hammer so it would lie flat. “You laugh more often. You talk more easily.” 

“Everything’s easier with Galinda.” Sometimes it was hard for Elphaba to talk around strangers, knowing how often they judged her for her skin color. But there was nothing to hold Galinda back, and she was happy to talk enough for both of them. And if she did see somebody glance at Elphaba’s skin for just a little too long, she wasn’t afraid to yell at them for it. Galinda could sound very imperious for an eight year old. 

But even though Galinda was younger, there were a lot of things she had done that Elphaba never had, like skiing or skating or riding on a train by herself (at least, without her parents). Now, at last, they were going to be even. Father was staying back in the Emerald City because he said he couldn’t leave his work, and Galinda assured her there would be enough snow on the ground for winter sports. So Elphaba had bought an entirely new wardrobe: insulated clothes, a fluffy green winter coat for being out in the snow, and a warmer coat that wasn’t fluffy for attending social functions in Frottica. All of her new clothes were neatly stored in green trunks in the next train car, stamped with Father’s seal. 

Galinda and her parents met her at the train station in Frottica. Elphaba hadn’t taken more than two steps onto the platform before a high pitched voice squealed “Elphie!” and Galinda threw herself at her with the force of a bullet. “You’re finally here!” she cried, wrapping her arms around Elphaba and squeezing tightly. “I thought you were never going to get here!” 

Elphaba laughed, hugging her back just as tightly. “Never is a long, long time.” 

“Your Highness,” Lord Upland said, extending a hand for Elphaba to shake. He was always stiffly formal, like it was their first time meeting each other. “I trust your train journey went smoothly?” 

“It did. Gillikin is so beautiful!” The illustrations in her books and even the paintings Galinda had given her to hang on her walls (“so you can have a little bit of me even when I’m not here,” she’d said) didn’t do the scenery justice: the way the snow covering the fields looked like icing on a cake, the way little clumps of villages seemed to crouch together against the snow; the way the craggy mountains loomed higher and higher the farther north they traveled. 

“We’re so glad you like it,” Lady Upland said, hugging her like Elphaba was her own daughter. For just a moment, Elphaba closed her eyes and pretended she was. Then Lady Upland took Elphaba’s gloved hand in hers and said “You must be exhausted. Come, we’ll take the carriage home and I’ll instruct the servants to make you both some hot chocolate.” She took Galinda’s other hand in hers as they headed towards the line of carriages waiting to take noble visitors home, while Lord Upland lingered behind to oversee the delivery of Elphaba’s bags.

Galinda chattered for the entire hour-long carriage ride about all the things they were going to do while Elphaba stayed riveted to the windows, watching the scenery pass by. The roof of the Upland manor was frosted with snow, making it look like something out of a fairy tale. It was even more beautiful than she’d thought it would be. The walled gardens were covered in a blanket of white and the ice on the lake about a mile away from the house glittered in the late afternoon sunlight. Compared to the rugged beauty of the scenery all around them, the manor looked like it had been plucked straight out of Frottica with its warm honey colored stone and yellow shutters. Every light in each of the front windows was ablaze, burning merrily against the gathering dark. 

“You’ll have to excuse the mess,” Lady Upland said as a servant dressed in the Uplands’ gold and pink livery opened the front door for them. “Things are always a little frenetic in the run up to the midwinter ball.” 

“What does frenetic mean?” Galinda asked. 

“Busy. Hectic. Maybe even a little crazy. Like how your nurse gets when you get mud all over your nice skirt.” 

Galinda laughed as her mother pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Momsie, you’re babying me in front of Elphie.” 

“That’s because you are my baby, my love. And you always will be, no matter how old you get.” Galinda giggled. Elphaba had that odd sinking feeling in her stomach again. Would Mother have kissed her like that if she was still alive? Father said that most of the members of the nobility were stiff and undemonstrative parents, but Lady Upland didn’t seem like that at all. 

Elphaba wondered if Galinda knew how lucky she was. But then Galinda pulled her away for hot chocolate, chattering on about ice skating, and she didn’t have time to think about her mother anymore. 

//

“It’s very…green.” 

“You don’t like it, do you?” Elphaba asked, tugging  at her tulle skirt. When Father had said that he’d bought her a new dress for the ball she hadn’t thought to look at it first. She trusted Father’s fashion sense, most of the time. Except the dress he’d picked out was hideous-well, the dress itself wasn’t, but it clashed with Elphaba’s skin color. She felt frustrated tears prick at her eyes. The ball started in two hours; there simply wasn’t time to go out to Frottica and buy a new dress. She couldn’t tell if she was more disappointed with Father, or with herself for not checking the dress sooner. “Oz, I’m hideodeous.” And now all of the guests that the Uplands had invited were going to see her too. She could imagine the things they would say behind her back, once they all saw for themselves that their princess was more of a freak than they’d already thought she was-

“No you’re not!” Galinda huffed, before Elphaba could feel too sorry for herself. “You can’t say those things about yourself, Elphie. You’re beautiful.” 

“I appreciate the flattery, but--” 

“It’s not flattery!” Galinda stamped her foot, hard, against the carpeted floor of her bedchamber. She was wearing a pale pink dress with a soft white skirt, and little pink ribbons woven into her hair. Elphaba couldn’t help noticing that she’d sat very still when the maids were doing their hair. “You are beautiful, Elphie. You have such pretty eyes, and your skin glows, and you have a nice smile too-when you let people see it.” Galinda was undoubtedly aware that no one in Oz, quite possibly, had seen Elphaba’s smile as much as she had. “That dress is…unfortunate, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re beautiful.” 

No one had ever called her that before. Father said she looked nice. Once Nanny had said she cleaned up well, whatever that meant. But no one had ever called her beautiful. 

“You’re too young to know what beautiful means,” Elphaba said. She was sure that no one in the Gilikinese nobility, not even Lady Upland, would think that green skin was beautiful.

“Yes I do!” Galinda cried. “I know that the sunset is beautiful. I know that the sea is beautiful. I know that the stars in the sky are beautiful.” The sky above the Upland manor was covered in stars, more stars than Elphaba had ever seen in her life. Sometimes when it wasn’t too cold Lady Upland bundled them up in their coats and took them outside so they could look up at a sky that was practically overflowing with tiny pinpricks of light. “And I know that you’re beautiful too, Elphaba Thropp.” Elphaba felt a strange lump in her throat, but Galinda didn’t seem to notice. “Once the dressmaker made a mistake and brought a dress that was white, but Momsie dyed it pink. Maybe we can dye your dress a different color instead.” 

She skipped off to find her Momsie before Elphaba could stop her and tell her that a simple mix up with a dress wasn’t worth bothering Lady Upland with. Elphaba followed tentatively on her heels, absentmindedly playing with the hem of the stupid dress. 

They found Lady Upland in front of her vanity, carefully applying a layer of powder to her cheeks. Elphaba didn’t understand why she felt she had to put on makeup, when she already looked flawless without it. “There you are, my darlings!” She immediately spun to catch Galinda as the little girl launched herself at her, somehow managing to hold her without creasing her skirt. 

“Momsie, we have an emergency.” Galinda pointed at Elphaba’s dress. Apparently, no other words were necessary. “Can we dye it, like you dyed the white dress pink?” 

“I doubt there will be enough time for the dye to set,” Lady Upland said, eyeing Elphaba’s dress appraisingly. “Your Highness--”

“Elphaba, please,” Elphaba said quickly. 

“Elphaba, you’re not that much taller than Galinda. I bought her a couple of dresses for Lurlinemas for her to grow into. If we let out the seams a bit, I suspect we can get one of them to fit you.” Both girls followed her into her closet-one big room with a mirror that took up an entire wall and racks and racks of clothes along the other walls. For a moment all Elphaba could do was stare at all those dresses, in every cut and color of the rainbow, for every occasion imaginable. Galinda looked spellbound too; she grabbed Elphaba’s hand and squeezed it, almost instinctively. 

But Lady Upland knew exactly where she was going, rummaging through a rack in the far corner of the room until she pulled out a deep blue dress that was the exact shade of the sky just after sunset. The bodice was embroidered with pearls and Elphaba thought it was the most beautiful dress she’d ever seen. “Try this on, your—” She cleared her throat and corrected herself. “Try this on, Elphaba.” 

Elphaba changed behind a rack of evening dresses and then carefully examined herself in the mirror. She hadn’t known how the blue would look against her skin, but she realized it made her look older, somehow. Her verdigris seemed deeper and less jarring. Not beautiful, no matter what Galinda might think. But she wouldn’t make a fool of herself in front of half of Frottica. 

She didn’t realize she was crying until Lady Upland knelt in front of her, dabbing under her eyes with a handkerchief embroidered with a golden U. “Darling, what is it? Do you not like it? Because we can always find you another one.”

Elphaba didn’t know how to even begin to express the tangle of feelings inside of her chest. She wasn’t sure she could have explained what it all meant even to herself, much less anyone else. “I love it. Thank you,” she managed to say, before Lady Upland could try to take that beautiful dress away. 

Galinda immediately threw her arms around her, burying her head in Elphaba’s shoulder. After a moment, Lady Upland’s arms came to encircle them both. Elphaba couldn’t seem to make herself stop crying, but the others didn’t care. They just held her like no matter what happened, they would keep her together. It was like she didn’t have to be the Emerald Princess when she was around them. 

She just had to be Elphaba. 

Finally, her tears subsided enough that Lady Upland could wipe them away with her handkerchief. “This will never do,” she murmured. “You can’t be in tears at your first ball in Gillikin. I’ve found that dancing is the best medicine when I’m upset.” She turned to Galinda. “Have you been teaching her our traditional dances?” 

“Of course I have, Momsie.” Galinda sounded almost offended that she even needed to be asked.

“Why don’t you show me?” Lady Upland stepped into the center of the dressing room, pushing clothing racks against the walls. “We’ll do a line dance.” Some of the Gillikin country dances were surprisingly complicated, with groups of dancers weaving in and out, switching partners and then switching back. Elphaba thought she was a good dancer, but some of the dances were tricky even for her. 

By the time they managed to finish the dance they were all flushed and laughing. Galinda’s bows were lopsided and even Lady Upland’s makeup couldn’t quite hide the rosiness of her cheeks. “Come on,” she said, ushering them over to her large white vanity. “We have to make ourselves look presentable before the ball starts.” She carefully redid the ribbons in Galinda’s hair and reapplied her own makeup, while Elphaba sat on the edge of her bed and watched like they were creatures from a fairy tale. 

“Would you like me to do your hair too, Elphaba?” Lady Upland asked, as Galinda scrambled down from the chair. Elphaba nodded, sitting down in front of the vanity with careful precision, watching as Lady Upland arranged her braids so they fell neatly over her shoulder like a wash of ink. She pinned a few of them up so they almost looked like a crown, like the crown that Elphaba would wear someday a long, long time in the future when Father died. 

“There,” Lady Upland said, squeezing her shoulder. For a moment Elphaba thought she saw tears glittering in her eyes, but it could have been a trick of the light. “Now I think we’re all ready to meet our guests.” 

//

By the time they made their way downstairs, the manor was already beginning to fill up. For a moment Elphaba could only stare at the women’s dresses, at their long heavy skirts in every color of the rainbow trailing across the marble floors that had been polished until they shone. Lord Upland was standing at the bottom of the stairwell. “You’re late, dearest,” he said as he reached out to take his wife’s hand. 

“It hardly signifies, Highmuster. We see the same people every year.” She winked at Elphaba, who smiled back at her shyly like they were sharing a secret. 

The Uplands’ ballroom had been entirely transformed, until it looked like some kind of wintry fairyland. Soft drifts of snow, made from glitter and paper, gathered in the corners of the room. Jeweled snowflakes had been draped across the windowpanes and they glowed softly in the light of the candles resting on the sills. All of the desserts on the refreshment table were covered in a thin layer of glaze that made them look like they were covered in snowdrifts. The lights over the dance floor had been tinted blue, so it looked like they were waltzing on ice. Elphaba thought the room was beautiful, even more so than the Emerald Ballroom when the Wizard was hosting guests.

“Meeting people is so boring!” Galinda grabbed Elphaba’s hand and yanked her towards the dance floor, as if she’d seen the decorations a hundred times before. “Come on, Elphie! They’re playing a reel!” It went without speaking now: Galinda and Elphaba were and always would be dancing partners. There were other children at the midwinter ball, the children of Galinda’s parents’ friends and acquaintances. A few of them worked up the courage to ask Elphaba to dance and a couple of them were rather good, but none of them were Galinda. She and Galinda had shared so many dances over the years and taken so many of the same dancing lessons that Elphaba could partner her almost without thinking about it. She could anticipate almost every move Galinda would make: when she would step back, when she would turn in, when she would nearly step on Elphaba’s foot. Whenever they danced, the rest of the world seemed to fade away. Elphaba didn’t have to worry about impressing her, because she knew that Galinda would like her anyway. There would always be another summer and there would always be another ball. 

While Galinda danced with a boy whose glasses made his wide dark eyes look even larger than they already were, Elphaba went to get them glasses of lemonade from the refreshments table. She heard quiet voices drifting around the edge of the doorframe, but she didn't pay much attention to them—she was used to ignoring boring adult conversation—until she recognized Lady Upland’s voice.

“Oz, Highmuster,” she was saying. “Galinda is a child. She isn’t even ten years old.” 

Lord Upland’s voice was so quiet that Elphaba had to lean forward slightly to hear it. “But that’s old enough for an engagement, before some other princess can snap him up.” 

“We don’t even know the Tigelaar family—” 

“King Marilott is rich and the Arjiki are powerful. What else is there to know?” 

“That sounds quite mercenary, dearest. How is Galinda supposed to know if she likes Prince Fiyero, if she’s never even met him before?” 

“She doesn’t need to meet him. We’d only met a handful of times before our wedding night, and look how that turned out.” No one said anything for a minute and Elphaba assumed they were kissing. 

“She’s a child, Highmuster,” Lady Upland said. “Just let her enjoy growing up. Perhaps, when she’s older, she’ll fall in love with this prince for herself. But until then…let her have her fun. Let her laugh and play and dance and discover exactly who she is when she’s by herself, before she ties herself to anyone else.” 

Elphaba didn’t hear what Lord Upland said next because Galinda came running over to her, her blonde curls flying, begging Elphaba to dance with her again and again until they were both exhausted and Galinda’s nurse had to bundle them back up to bed. 

They slept in the same bed, the way they always did after balls. Galinda fell asleep first, as usual, clinging to Elphaba like a barnacle, wrapped up in her light pink duvet. The warmth of Galinda’s body made Elphaba feel sleepy, and the pillows and blankets were soft and warm. She could hear the murmur of voices downstairs drifting in under the cracked door, since Galinda had insisted they keep it open. Snow softly drifted down outside, settling in silent drifts, while a fire crackled merrily in the grate. 

Elphaba felt her eyelids slip closed until she was on the edge of sleep, until the last thing she thought about was the conversation she’d overheard between the Uplands, about the mysterious Prince Fiyero and the marriage contract that Lady Upland had dismissed out of hand. 

Elphaba had no idea then just how that nebulous marriage contract would come to dominate their entire lives, how it would hang over them like a piece of glass that could shatter at any moment.

Elphaba found Fiyero in the room that Father had appointed as his study. His desk was covered with telegrams and letters, presumably congratulating him on his upcoming nuptials. But he was only looking at one letter-a single page, front and back, covered in a girl’s small and neat handwriting. “You don’t want to do this, do you?” she asked flatly. 

He looked up in surprise, like he’d been so absorbed in the letter that he hadn’t heard her come in. “Your Highness,” he said, in a way that wasn’t quite a question. “What are you doing here?” 

“I wanted to talk to you.” She sat down on the edge of the desk and snatched the letter out of his hand, ignoring his attempt to snatch it back. She flipped the paper and looked at the signature at the bottom of the page: Sarima Arquezza. She remembered a pretty girl on Fiyero’s arm at the ball where Elphaba had been proclaimed Crown Princess: long dark hair, soft brown skin, brown eyes that were almost as big as Glinda’s, a smile that shone like stardust. And Fiyero had looked at her like he couldn’t imagine a more perfect girl. He’d hung on her every word and danced almost every dance with her. “Is she the girl you love?” 

“Princess Elphaba--” 

“Because you don’t love Galinda.” It wasn’t a question. They both knew she was right. He liked Galinda. They were friends. And Elphaba knew that if the marriage did go through, he would do everything he could to love her. But he would never love her the way he loved Sarima. 

“It’s not that simple, Princess,” Fiyero said. “I wish it was. I wish I could marry Sarima. But…there’s no room for love in my life. Not anymore. My older brother is dead and I’m next in line to inherit. My country is proud, but small. We need powerful allies. Sarima’s family won’t bring us allies, not the way that marrying one of the richest girls in Gillikin will.” She must have had an incredulous look on her face because he hurried to continue. “Galinda’s a very sweet girl. We get along well, and I want her to be happy. I want to be the best husband that I can be for her--” 

“But you don’t love her.” 

Fiyero thought for a moment. “Love is a complicated word,” he said diplomatically. “But just because it’s not instantaneous, that doesn’t mean it can’t grow. My parents always say they didn’t really fall in love with each other until they’d been married for two years.”

Elphaba wanted to hate him, but she was the heir to a kingdom in her own right. She knew that she was expected to put her people’s wellbeing first, even when it went against what she wanted. In his situation, with a sibling dead and a kingdom vulnerable, she might have made the same considerations. “What if there was another way?” she asked him. “What if you could save your kingdom and marry Miss Sarima?” 

He bit his lip. “Princess, I know you mean well--” 

“It’s Elphaba to you,” she replied. “You’re engaged to my best friend. Hear me out. What if you ally with the Emerald City, instead of Gillikin?” 

He smirked. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were proposing.” 

“You’re not my type. But if I asked my father nicely, I’m sure I could get him to sign a defensive treaty—and give Miss Sarima a sizable dowry.” 

Fiyero sat up a little straighter in his chair. “You wouldn’t…” 

“Oh, I very much would if the happiness of my best friend is at stake.” 

He crossed his arms over his chest. “And what would I need to do in return?” 

“Go along with what happens tonight.” 

He raised one eyebrow. “I hope that doesn’t involve assassinating Highmuster Arduenna.” 

“I’m still thinking about it. But no. I have a…more permanent solution in mind.” A midnight carriage ride. A dimly lit church, with only a priest as witness. Galinda as her wife, to have and to hold for better and worse and richer and poorer and sickness and health for the rest of her days. 

Even though she didn’t say anything, she knew he understood. Perhaps he’d had similar thoughts himself. “It’s a crazy idea.” But a smile tugged at his lips. “You really like her, don’t you?” 

“More than anything.” 

A smile broke across his face, as precious and pure as sunlight. “In that case, far be it for me to stand in the way of true love.” 

Eleven Years Ago

It was supposed to be another winter like any other: days spent skiing and ice skating with Galinda and drinking hot chocolate while they watched the snow fall, curled up on the pink overstuffed chairs in Larena’s (as Lady Upland now insisted Elphaba call her) study that had the best views out over the grounds; another Midwinter Ball, when the manor would transform itself into a winter wonderland; another set of dances with Galinda. 

Instead, two nights after Elphaba arrived and a month after her thirteenth birthday, her trip turned into a nightmare. 

Galinda had been coughing since she and her parents had come to pick Elphaba up at the train station, but Elphaba hadn’t thought anything of it. Perhaps her greeting hadn’t been quite as exuberant as normal, but maybe she was tired from the carriage ride over or she hadn’t slept well the night before. Galinda’s parents didn’t seem to think anything of it. They’d ordered the cook to make all of Elphaba’s favorites for dinner and they stayed up late into the night talking—well, Elphaba and Galinda and Lady Upland had talked. Lord Upland had retreated to his study after the dessert course to look over some of his correspondence. 

“We’re going to have the best winter ever,” Galinda said as they lay together under the pale pink canopy that hovered over her bed, just like she always did on Elphaba’s first night. She turned her head into her pillow to hide a sneeze. Normally they would stay up late into the night talking, even though they exchanged letters every week so they already knew everything that was happening in each other’s lives. But that night Galinda fell asleep early, complaining of a headache. 

The next morning, she couldn’t even get out of bed. She stared at Elphaba blankly when she tried to rouse her, her sheets were sticky with sweat, and her forehead was hot. Elphaba called for Larena, who called for a doctor. “Why don’t you wait downstairs, darling?” she asked, squeezing Elphaba’s hand. “We wouldn’t want you to catch whatever she has.” But Elphaba didn’t want to go downstairs. She wanted to stay with Galinda. 

The doctor saw the trail of red spots on Galinda’s throat and immediately diagnosed her with pox, and then everything changed. 

Elphaba was hustled back to her room, relegated to sitting on her bed as she watched the Upland servants repack her things. The doctor examined her too, checking her throat and asking if she had a fever, chills, or cough. She didn’t. “Is Galinda going to be okay?” she asked, but the doctor didn’t answer. Elphaba knew that the pox was a very contagious illness and could be fatal—especially in small children. But she and Galinda weren’t small children anymore. Galinda was eleven and she was almost thirteen. 

“I’m afraid you’ll have to stay elsewhere until the illness has moved through the house,” the doctor told her. He didn’t say that it might already be too late, since she’d spent most of the previous day with Galinda and even slept in the same bed as her. Arrangements were made for Elphaba to stay with Galinda’s uncle and aunt on the other side of the valley. Elphaba tried to find Larena and tell her that she wanted to stay with the Uplands, but the door to her guest room was barred until the carriage arrived to pick her up. Then the servants escorted her downstairs and right out the front door. Elphaba looked back once, up the staircase toward Galinda’s room, as if she would be able to catch a glimpse of her. She looked around at the foyer, still covered in the detritus of the preparations for the Midwinter Ball: cut trees and shrubbery scattered here and there, jeweled snowflakes spread out on a table, garlands of holly thrown in a pile. 

Galinda’s Uncle Albion and his wife Elieza were kind enough, if a bit formal. They took Elphaba on a sleigh ride along their property and Elieza taught her to do a particularly tricky kind of jump on skates. They didn’t mention Galinda or the other Uplands, except for the odd platitude that they would be fine and Elphaba would be back with them before she knew it, even as the days passed and her return kept getting delayed. Three days turned into a week which turned into ten days. 

And then on the eleventh day, Elieza pulled her aside after breakfast. She squeezed Elphaba’s hand and opened her mouth, then shut it again. “I’m so sorry to have to tell you this, darling,” she said finally, and Elphaba’s heart dropped. “The rest of the family caught the pox. Galinda and her father are recovering well. But…” Her eyes welled with tears and she had to stop talking to wipe her eyes with a handkerchief that had been sitting on a side table. “Lady Upland didn’t recover. She insisted on nursing Galinda herself and by the time the disease reached her heart, it was too late for her to fight it off.” 

Elphaba couldn’t believe it at first.. She’d just seen Larena last week and she’d been so vibrant and full of life, planning the holiday ball. She couldn’t just be gone. And what about Galinda? How could she lose her mother? “She can’t be…there has to be some kind of mistake.” 

“I’m afraid there isn’t,” Elieza said, dabbing at her eyes again. “It’s terrible what happened to her, simply terrible. Her poor husband.” And her poor daughter, Elphaba thought. 

“I want to see Galinda,” she said. “Does she know her mother is…gone?” She simply couldn’t bring herself to say dead. It sounded so horrifically final. 

“Darling, I’m not sure that’s the best idea. She was ill recently--” 

“I don’t care if I get sick,” Elphaba said. “Galinda is my best friend. She needs me.” She didn’t mention that Galinda was her only friend too. She made her voice as imperious as she could. Nanny would have scolded her if she’d heard, but Elphaba didn’t care. If using her princess voice meant that she would get back to Galinda faster, she was certainly going to use it. “Take me back.” And because she was the Emerald Princess and people weren’t used to saying no to her, she was returned to the Upland manor by the time the sun set. Albion and Elieza came with her, to help the family in their time of grief. 

Elphaba didn’t see Lord Upland, who had locked himself in his study. The walls were so thick that she could barely hear the murmur of Albion’s voice on the other side of the wall. She found Galinda in her bedroom, wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets and pillows. Her skin was still pale and her eyes were watery and bloodshot. “Elphie,” she whispered, her voice crackling like dried paper. 

Elphaba crawled onto the mattress next to her, wrapping her arms around her. “I’m here, my sweet. I’m so sorry.” 

“Father says that Momsie’s…Momsie’s…” She couldn’t seem to say the word either, trying to say it and then faltering. 

“I know. I’m so sorry,” Elphaba whispered. She pressed Galinda’s hot, sweaty forehead against her shoulder, stroking her hair. Galinda let out a noise that wasn’t quite a sigh or a whimper-a soft, defeated sound that made Elphaba’s heart twist. 

“Nobody was talking about her dying last night,” Galinda sniffled. “They said she was going to be just fine.”

Elphaba stroked her hair, wishing there was something, anything, she could do to ease the grief on her face. “My mother died too. It’s not really the same, because she died before I could really get to know her. But I know how it feels.” 

“What do I do now?” Galinda asked, her cheek soft against Elphaba’s shoulder. 

Elphaba knew what she should tell her: that everything was going to get better and she would heal and someday she maybe wouldn’t miss her mother quite so much. But that hadn’t been her experience. There had always been a hole in her heart, no matter how many years passed, searching for a person who could never be there for her again. And she had only been chasing a ghost; she didn’t remember the smell of her mother’s perfume, or the way she used to wear her hair, or the sound of her laughter. She couldn’t remember her mother ever tucking her into bed, or singing her to sleep, or comforting her when she skinned her knee. She couldn’t imagine what the pain would have been like if she’d actually remembered her. She didn’t want to give Galinda hope that things would go back to normal, when her world had changed irrevocably and it would never, ever be the way it had been two days ago. So all she said was “You’ll have me, no matter what,” as if that could make things better. She held Galinda until she cried herself to sleep, wrapped up in tear stained blankets. Once she was sure Galinda was asleep, she let herself cry too. Nobody would ever replace Mother, but Larena had tried. Why hadn’t Elphaba ever told her how much she appreciated it? 

They cried themselves to sleep for weeks afterwards.

//

Albion and Elieza were sitting at the breakfast table when Elphaba and Galinda came downstairs the next morning. The chair at the head of the table, where Lord Upland sat, and the chair at the other side, where Larena sat, were conspicuously empty. Elphaba and Galinda sat down across from them, as silent servants set their plates down in front of them. 

Albion placed a hand over Elieza’s. “We were talking yesterday and…it’s just such a tragedy, Galinda, what happened to your mother--” 

“I know,” Galinda snapped. 

The adults exchanged a look before they continued. “We thought we could host a mourning ball,” Elieza said. “Larena loved to dance. I believe it’s what she would have wanted.” She looked at Galinda, who was dragging a knife through her porridge. “But of course, if you and your father think otherwise…” 

“What’s a mourning ball?” Elphaba asked. 

“It’s an old Gilikinese custom,” Galinda said. “The traditional mourning period is twelve days. On the twelfth night there’s a ball, to celebrate the person’s life and dance them into the afterlife. It’s supposed to be a happy occasion. Not a sad one.” 

“What do you think, Galinda?” Albion asked, pouring himself more coffee. His eyes were red and puffy, like he’d been crying too and he wasn’t afraid to hide it. “Your father says he’ll consider it, as long as you’re amenable.” 

Galinda picked at a crack in the long wooden table. Elphaba squeezed her hand. “I don’t know if I can pretend to be happy right now.” 

“No one expects you to pretend, darling,” Elieza said. “That isn’t what a mourning ball is about. It’s about grieving through dance and through music, while you have the people you love around you to hold you up. We had one for my cousin. She died very young, even younger than you. And I was devastated. But it helped to dance with the people that knew her best and were hurting just as much as I was.” 

“I do love to dance, and so did Momsie,” Galinda said, dragging her knife through her porridge again. “Would you be able to stay, Elphie? I know you’re supposed to go back soon—” 

“I’ll stay as long as you want me to,” Elphaba said. If she explained the situation, Father would let her stay for as long as she needed to. Being here with Galinda right now was more important than her lessons in the Emerald Palace. He would know that. 

“Then I’ll dance,” Galinda said, squeezing her hand. “As long as you dance with me.” 

“Of course I will, Galinda.” 

//

Lord Upland was harder to convince. Albion spent almost two full days locked in his study before he finally came out and announced that they would be hosting a mourning ball in nine days’ time. In the meantime, the household went into mourning. Swags of black crepe were draped everywhere: on the bannisters, the windowsills, even over the portraits of stern faced Upland ancestors. All of Galinda’s pretty pink dresses were packed away in chests and she had to wear starchy black dresses that pinched at her elbows and scratched at her wrists. No more music or laughter drifted in from the servants’ hall. A pall lay over the house, like everyone else had died too and they were just ghosts going through the motions of daily life. 

On the night of the ball the guests began to trickle in. There were many members of the Arduenna-Upland extended family that Elphaba had never met before, along with as much of Frottican society as could fill the Upland ballroom. Everyone wore deepest black, sometimes embroidered with diamonds or pearls or jet to show their wealth. They kept their voices low, whispering in small clumps as they moved around the ballroom. Several women were crying. 

Galinda made the rounds with her aunt, accepting condolences and hugs from sobbing elderly women. Elphaba hovered at her other elbow like a shadow, until Galinda slipped an arm through hers. “Please don’t leave me,” she whispered. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Elphaba whispered back. 

Eventually Lord Upland found them. There was a young man with him, perhaps a year older than Elphaba. He had light hair that kept falling into his eyes; he kept pushing it back nervously. He had bright blue eyes and a soft, almost tentative smile. “This is Prince Fiyero Tigelaar, of the Arjiki. Your Highness, this is my sister-in-law, Alieza; my daughter, Galinda; and Princess Elphaba, of the Emerald City.” 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” Fiyero said, bowing to each of them in turn and bowing a little more deeply to Elphaba. He surreptitiously tugged at his collar, like his suit jacket was a little tight. It looked a little threadbare too; perhaps his family didn’t have the money to buy him another one. “Miss Galinda, I was sorry to hear about your mother’s death.” 

“Thank you, your Highness,” Galinda said, sending a quick glance down at the floor. 

Elphaba saw Lord Upland notice. His jaw tightened. “Galinda, why don’t you dance the first dance with him?” 

Galinda’s big brown eyes flickered towards Elphaba. Her hand tightened around hers. “But I was going to—” 

“We had already planned on dancing the first dance together,” Elphaba said quickly. 

“The second dance then,” Lord Upland replied. 

“Of course.” Galinda gave Fiyero a tentative smile. “I’d be honored to dance the second dance with you, your Highness.” The band started to play and she practically pulled Elphaba onto the dance floor. “I believe that’s our cue!” 

“The prince seems nice,” Elphaba said as they took their place among the swirling couples. 

“I know,” Galinda said, placing Elphaba’s hand at her waist. “But I don’t want to dance with him. I want to dance with you.” And Elphaba didn’t say anything else, because she would much rather dance with Galinda than with some distant Upland cousins. 

Elphaba had wondered if there would be anything different about the dances. Perhaps the musicians would only play dirges. Instead, the dances weren’t any different from the ones she would have at the midwinter ball. It was comforting to know the steps like muscle memory, so all the crying didn’t distract her. Perhaps that was the point: even if everything else had changed, even if she felt unmoored and off kilter, the dances were still the same. 

When the first song was finished Galinda hesitated in Elphaba’s arms. Elphaba could hear her heartbeat against her, fast and quick like a rabbit’s. “If I go and dance with Fiyero now, will you dance every other dance with me?” she whispered. 

“Of course,” Elphaba said. “You know that there’s no one I’d rather dance with here than you.” 

Elphaba took the opportunity to pour herself a drink while Galinda danced with Fiyero, her dark skirt spinning across the dance floor. She leaned against the wall, watching them—and watching Lord Upland, on the other side of the room, as he drained most of his drink in one long gulp. She could see his Adams apple bobbing in his throat, the way his fingertips tightened around the neck of his glass. 

Once Fiyero bowed to Galinda and the music finished, Elphaba was all too glad to nudge her way back in. “How was he?” she asked as she took Galinda’s hands and led her into a turn. “Is he a good dancer?” 

“He’s okay,” Galinda said. “But he’s not as good as you, Elphie.” 

Elphaba felt her cheeks heat from the closeness of the dance floor and the warmth of the overhead lights. “You’ll always be my favorite dancing partner.” 

Galinda’s smile was small, but it seemed genuine—perhaps the first real smile she’d given Elphaba since her mother died. “And you’ll always be my favorite too.” 

And for a night at least, as they led each other through dance after dance, never stopping in case Fiyero or anyone else got ideas about cutting in, Elphaba thought that things could somehow turn out all right. She could help Galinda through her grief, far better than any prince who barely knew her. 

Hopefully, she could make her smile a little bit more. Maybe not today, maybe not in a month…but she simply couldn’t conceive of a world without Galinda. They would always be in each other’s lives. They would always share the best and worst moments of each other’s lives. 

And no matter what happened they would always, always, be each other’s dancing partner.

Chapter Text

Present Day

Elphaba found Nessa in her sitting room, reading a book on the window seat, still dressed in her plaid traveling gown. Her face lit up when she saw her and she quickly set her book aside. “Fabala!” 

Elphaba rushed to hug her. “Nessie! I didn’t know you were coming!” 

“Oh, you know Father. He wouldn’t miss the chance for me to network. This is the wedding of the year, after all.” They both made a face. Frexspar Thropp was pedantic at best and downright cruel at worst—at least to Elphaba. Even when he’d thought that he was Elphaba’s father, he’d never treated her much like his daughter, but rather a servant to Nessa. When Father found her, she was wearing threadbare clothes that were a size too small and shoes that were worn through. She flinched every time there was a loud noise. Father had taken her back to the Emerald City that very night. Elphaba didn’t miss Lord Frexspar, or Munchkinland, but she did miss Nessa. Now she only got to see her sister a couple of times a year, if she was lucky. They wrote to each other once a week, but it wasn’t the same. Even though Elphaba now understood why Frexspar’s treatment had been so harmful, she had never minded spending time with Nessa—and Nessa had always adored her. They were still close, even after all of the years Nessa’s father had spent trying to tear them apart. 

“Did you just get here?” 

“Yes, I took the morning train—” Nessa squeezed her hand, feeling her pulse beating rapidly in her wrist. “Goodness, Elphaba. What’s wrong?” 

Elphaba took a long breath in, then let it out slowly. “I want to stop the wedding of the year by running away with the bride.” She’d told Nessa about Lord Upland’s increasingly desperate attempts to set Galinda up with Fiyero, even though they were just friends. It had been funny then. She hadn’t thought he’d ever try to force a marriage on Galinda, or that Fiyero would agree. 

Nessa gasped when Elphaba told her about the state Galinda had been in when she’d found her. “That’s horrible! How could he do something like that to his own daughter?” 

“He’s always seen her as a tool to be used. And he’s always blamed Galinda for her mother’s death.” His attitude towards her had grown noticeably chillier in the last decade. Galinda had only mentioned it once, after her father told her that if Larena hadn’t taken care of her while she was ill there was a good chance she’d still be alive. Elphaba couldn’t believe he would say something like that to his daughter’s face, but the sentiment wasn’t entirely a surprise. It still disappointed her, when she thought about the Lord Upland she had first met and how he’d danced with Galinda at their first ball.

“Poor Galinda,” Nessa said. “So what are you going to do?” 

Elphaba outlined her plan, such as it was. “It’s the only way to keep Galinda safe. The marriage can’t go through without a bride. But I’ll have to leave Father to deal with the fallout alone. And his health is already fragile—” 

Nessa squeezed her hand. “Uncle Oscar gave you his blessing. He wouldn’t do that if he didn’t have full knowledge of what you were planning, and didn’t fully support it. He’s spent nearly every summer with Galinda for nearly fifteen years. Surely he doesn’t want to see her marry someone she doesn’t love either.” 

“But Lord Upland won’t be happy that he’s been made a fool of.” 

“And there’s nothing he’ll be able to do, once you’re married. How do you feel about marrying her, Fabala?” 

If Nessa noticed the blush rise on Elphaba’s cheeks, she didn’t say anything. “Good. It feels…well, inevitable, really.” Maybe there was a reason Elphaba hadn’t done much courting in the two years she’d left Shiz. Father had introduced her to some of the richest, smartest, and most intelligent young men and women in Oz. But not a single one of them had ever stirred her heart. At first she’d thought there was something wrong with her, but now she was realizing that perhaps her heart hadn’t been hers to give away, ever since she was twenty one—and perhaps younger than that. 

Maybe she’d known, even when she was eight years old, that Galinda would always be the only one for her. 

“Anybody could have told you that,” Nessa said, relishing in having figured something out before her normally intelligent sister. “Oz, I’ve known the two of you were in love since you were at least sixteen.” 

“You didn’t! I didn’t know I was in love with her until just a couple of years ago.” 

“You were quite possibly the last person to know, Fabala.” Nessa squeezed her hand. “But it doesn’t matter how you found out. It matters that you’re going to marry her now, and I’m sure you’ll both be very, very happy together.” She dug in her pocket and took out a mound of bills. “These are for the priest. I imagine he won’t take kindly to having to perform a wedding in the middle of the night. I wish I could be there to share this moment with you, but if I can’t be…at least I can give you this.”

Elphaba squeezed her hand back. “Thank you, Nessie.” 

“So go do whatever you have to do to save her. I’ll help your father deal with the aftermath. 

“I can’t ask you to—”

“Then it’s a good thing you didn’t ask me. I volunteered myself.” Nessa winked. “We’ll manage Highmuster Arduenna, Fabala. Just wait and see.” Nessa took her promises, to her sister and everyone else, very seriously. 

Elphaba hugged her again. Nessa’s skin had somehow still retained the same soft scent it had when she was a baby, as if she hadn’t entirely grown up even though she was 21 years old, the same age Elphaba had been when Oz first put a crown on her head. “When did you get so grown up?” she asked. “How are you so wise?” 

“Because I know you. Because I love you,” Nessa replied, as if that explained everything. 

And perhaps it did. 

Three Years Ago

On Elphaba’s 21st birthday, she realized she was in love with her best friend. 

It was one earth-shattering event in a day that was full of them; she was finally of age now, ready to rule Oz without a regent if (Oz forbid) something were to happen to Father. Technically all she had to do was take the Oath of Loyalty, which could have been done in their sitting room in the Emerald Palace as long as it was witnessed by the proper ministers. Instead, Father thought it would be a good time to throw Elphaba a coming of age party. 

“I don’t understand why we have to invite this many people,” Elphaba said, staring down at the guest list. It was two pages long, and growing. “I don’t even know a third of them.” 

“But you’ll be working with them someday,” Father said, tapping a finger against the parchment. “These are the most powerful people in Oz, Elphaba—bankers, industrialists, politicians, professors. I know it’s easy for you to forget about your responsibilities when you’re at that school of yours, or in a library, but someday all of this—” He gestured around at his office, and possibly the entire Emerald Palace. “It’ll be yours. And you’re going to have to learn how to work with these people to rule Oz.” 

“That won’t happen for a very, very long time.” 

“Well, it’s better to be safe than sorry. And it won’t be all bad.” He tapped the first name at the top of the paper: Galinda Upland. “Your friend is going to be there. Although I will ask you, politely, to not dance with her the entire time. Give some eligible bachelors a chance too.” Elphaba rolled her eyes. She couldn’t possibly be less interested in eligible bachelors. She knew half of the State Council wanted to marry her off, even though she hadn’t yet graduated from Shiz, since there was no clear line of succession after her. Father had spent the last six months inviting the sons of noble families to dinner, until they had all started to blend together in her head. He’d even invited Fiyero over once, even though everyone knew that Highmuster Arduenna-Upland wanted Fiyero or his older brother, Eldric, to marry Galinda. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” Elphaba said, trying to sound as noncommittal as possible. “Though I expect Galinda and I will have a lot to catch up on.” 

Father raised an amused eyebrow. “Even though you just saw each other two weeks ago?” The spring semester at Shiz had just ended. In the fall, Elphaba would start her final year; Galinda would start her second year. Lord Upland hadn’t wanted his daughter to go to Shiz at all. He said education was just a distraction, when she should really be focusing on attracting a husband. The whole thing had made Elphaba’s blood boil. Father eventually had to write a letter to Lord Upland telling him how much Elphaba was looking forward to seeing Galinda at school. They’d already applied for a shared suite and they’d made sure they were taking every class together that they possibly could.

And it still wasn’t enough, because they still had to say goodbye to each other for the holidays. If Elphaba could, she would have spent every minute of every day with Galinda Upland. And Father knew it. 

“We always have a lot to catch up on,” Elphaba said, ignoring the blush climbing the back of her neck. 

“I know you do. You’re best friends. And I couldn’t be happier. Truly. You know, sometimes I think that inviting the Uplands to the Emerald City to finalize the contract was one of the best things I’ve ever done, because it made you so happy.” 

That blush was spreading to her cheeks now. “Send me the guest list to look over when you’re finished, Father.” Elphaba left, before she could embarrass herself even further. She wasn’t sure what affected her more: Father’s quiet but genuine displays of affection, or the fact that he’d come so close to guessing what Elphaba had already started to suspect herself. Perhaps she loved Galinda as more than a friend. 

But she tried not to think about it too much, even just to herself. It didn’t matter. Galinda would marry a handsome heir to a kingdom or an extensive family fortune and live in comfort for the rest of her life. With any luck, they would stay close forever, but Elphaba knew she couldn’t guarantee that. Everything changed after marriage and everything changed again after kids. 

Girls like Galinda Upland didn’t marry girls like her, even if they were princesses. 

//

The day of her coming out ball dawned bright and sunny. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky that arced over the Emerald City. The anticipation in the air had reached a fever pitch. It had been building for weeks; Elphaba had grown used to seeing her face on the cover of newspapers and calendars and even tea towels when she ventured outside of the palace. Little girls ran through the streets in smaller versions of her dresses. The Head Shizstress said that History had become the most popular program at Shiz, after Elphaba had majored in it; there were now more eligible students than there were spots. The program, once struggling, was now flush with cash. 

At least she’d been able to do some good, Elphaba thought ruefully. Even if she didn’t really have anything to do with it. She struggled with the idea of being useful. While becoming a princess had opened so many doors for her, it had shut so many others. She couldn’t get a job in the Emerald City Public Library, like she had once wanted to. All of her public appearances had to be carefully choreographed for security reasons. As she’d grown up, it felt like her life became busier and less spontaneous. It seemed like everybody wanted her to attend their charity gala or hold a photo shoot at their orphanage or frequent their restaurant. Elphaba knew she made a difference by bringing attention to worthy people and causes, but sometimes she wanted to ask if this was really all there was to being a public figure. Why didn’t it feel like she was doing anything meaningful? 

She’d confessed her thoughts to Galinda on the last night of the school year. She’d assumed that Galinda would assuage her fears quickly and tell her that she was just thinking too much, but Galinda had been quiet instead. She’d picked at a loose thread in her duvet as she thought. “I feel that way sometimes too,” she said. “I didn’t used to, until I came here. I’ve always known what I was supposed to do: marry a man, have his children, host a few parties a year. Just like Momsie. She never went to Shiz, and she never cared to. Not that I know of, at least. But now that I’m almost there, now that Father has been talking about marriage every time I come home…it’s like, is that all there is to my life? Will I always just be some man’s—probably Fiyero’s—wife? That’s all I can expect, all that I can hope for?” 

“What would you do if you didn’t have to marry him?” Elphaba asked. 

Galinda was quiet for so long that Elphaba thought she’d fallen asleep. “I’m not sure,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever really thought about it.” 

That struck Elphaba as unbearably sad, somehow. 

“What would you do if you weren’t going to be ruling Oz someday?” Galinda asked when Elphaba didn’t respond. 

“When I was younger I wanted to be an explorer. I wanted to travel behind the Shifting Sands and write books about what I found there.” Elphaba smiled when she thought about her younger self, crouched over an atlas and tracing paths with her fingertip: up through Munchkinland, to the left through Gillikin, and then straight across the Shifting Sands to the kingdoms of Ev or Ix or even the realm of the Nome king, who was supposed to eat children. “Now, I don’t know if I’d like to leave Oz. But I’d like to be surrounded by dusty old books. My life now, it isn’t bad—quite the opposite, in fact—but it’s…”

“Different,” Galinda said. She often seemed to know exactly what Elphaba was feeling, before Elphaba had to try to find the words.

“Yes, exactly. Different.” 

But they’d been given lives that anyone else in Oz would have sacrificed anything to have. Elphaba tried to keep that in mind whenever she felt too constricted or stifled.

Or when she had to be confirmed as heir to the throne in front of a full cathedral. 

Galinda stirred when she felt Elphaba sit up in bed. They slept in each other’s beds at Shiz more often than not, staying up late talking about anything and everything they could think of. “Is it tomorrow already?” she murmured, rubbing her eyes. 

Elphaba chuckled, gently tucking a lock of blonde hair behind her ear before it could fall into her eyes. She didn’t understand how Galinda could still manage to be so beautiful only seconds after waking up, her hair perfectly sleep-tousled and her big eyes dewy with the last remnants of sleep. They were so close, their foreheads nearly pressed together. If she shifted just a little bit, their lips could have touched—

Oz, she had to stop thinking like that. Galinda was her first and best friend and she was—as far as Elphaba knew—entirely straight. Elphaba treasured their friendship more than anything in the world. She wasn’t going to ruin it over a silly crush. 

“What if we didn’t get up?” Elphaba said, as the church bells rang out to tell everyone in the Emerald City—as if they could forget, with the green and white bunting decked on storefront windows and twisted around lampposts—that today was Elphaba’s big day. “What if we just stayed in bed all day and missed the ceremony?” 

Galinda seemed to consider the matter seriously for a moment. Her knee brushed against Elphaba’s thigh, sending a frisson of heat through her. “I don’t think your father would ever let me stay over again. He’d say I’m a bad influence.” 

“And if I told him that I’m the one who influenced you?” 

“He’d still think I was influencing you.” Galinda grabbed her hand, tugging her upright. “Come on, Elphie. I know you’re worried about the ceremony, but just think about the ball later. We can dance all night.” 

“Unless I make a fool of myself.” 

“You won’t,” Galinda said firmly, squeezing her hand. “And even if you did, I’d still want to dance with you. I always want to dance with you, Elphie.” 

Elphaba felt that feeling bubble in her stomach again, the one that saw Galinda as something other than a friend and was willing to ruin their friendship for just the slimmest chance at it becoming something more, even though Elphaba knew that was impossible. “And I always want to dance with you, my sweet.” 

“Then it’s settled,” Galinda said, gathering her hair up into a messy ponytail on the top of her head. “The ceremony first. Then we dance.” 

//

The ceremony was tedious, but everything went well. Elphaba just had to stay still as a minister intoned over her and then administered an oath, asking her if she promised to defend Oz and everyone in it for as long as she should live. At least that was easy enough to answer. Elphaba could just see the glint of Glinda’s pink dress out of the corner of her eye. Lord Upland was sitting on one side of her, while Prince Fiyero sat stiffly on her other side. Elphaba had met him a couple of times when he’d come to visit Galinda at Shiz. He was a nice enough man—nicer than Elphaba had expected, given the stories that circulated about him—and he was always polite to Galinda, but they had always struck Elphaba more as distant cousins. Their conversations were awkward and stilted and they rarely spent any time alone if they could help it. They’d even invited Elphaba on a couple of their ‘dates’, so that she could keep the conversation flowing. 

She wondered how they would fill their time if they married. What would they talk about on the long nights they were alone in Kiamo Ko, Fiyero’s castle in the Vinkus? When the weight of everyone’s expectations had dwindled away, what was left? 

She went to see Galinda after the ceremony, but Father intercepted her first, pulling her into a hug. “I don’t think I tell you enough how very proud I am of you,” he said. His voice sounded thicker than normal, as if he was on the verge of tears.

She hugged him back. She’d always known, on some level, that her father was older than most of her friends’ fathers. But he’d begun to show his age in the last few years—his hair was almost entirely white now, and his face was lined. His mortality weighed on her uncomfortably. Even though she’d been sitting in on his council meetings for as long as she could remember, and even though she’d taken some classes at Shiz on Politics and Economics, she’d never really been able to imagine the day when she would have to take his place. She couldn’t imagine an Oz that he wasn’t in charge of. 

Luckily, Galinda came up to them before Elphaba could get too maudlin. She wore a pretty pink dress, embroidered with sprigs of lavender. The ends of her hair managed to hold a curl; Elphaba wondered just how much hair spray she’d had to put on them to make them stick. Father chuckled, squeezed Elphaba’s shoulder one last time, and let her go. “I suppose I should release you to your admirers.” Once again, Elphaba wondered if he knew more than he was letting on.

“You were brilliant, Elphie!” Galinda practically jumped into her arms. 

“Oh please.” Elphaba could feel a blush building on her cheeks. She hoped Galinda wouldn’t notice, or would simply attribute it to the heat.  I just had to say a few words and kneel for half an hour while a priest lectured me about personal responsibility.”

“And you did it brilliantly,” Galinda said. “But you do everything brilliantly, so I can’t say I’m surprised.” 

The blush felt like it was spreading to the back of her neck. Elphaba reached a hand up to try to halt it, pretending she was adjusting the tiara that one of the maids had carefully nestled into her hair. In all of her years of living in the Emerald City, she still hadn’t quite figured out how to accept compliments. The band was warming up on the dais at the front of the room. “Do you need to dance with Fiyero?”  

For a moment Galinda’s face fell, but it happened so quickly that Elphaba could almost pretend she’d imagined it. “No. Well, maybe one dance. I’m sure Father will insist upon it. But I can be yours for the rest of the night.” 

“I’d like that,” Elphaba said, feeling a flush of satisfaction at the idea of having Glinda to herself, even if just for a night. “Are you leading, or am I?” 

Galinda held out her hand. “I believe it’s my turn to lead, Elphie.” 

Elphaba was more than content to let Galinda lead her out so they could take their place among the dancing couples. The band began to play one of her favorite reels, as if they’d specifically planned it. They threw themselves into the steps and if Galinda danced a little faster than normal, if she looked back a couple of times at her father and Fiyero standing near the windows, deep in conversation, Elphaba didn’t comment on it. She just matched her pace, as if they could freeze time forever if they stayed in sync. Then Elphaba would never have to come to the throne, and Galinda would never have to marry. They could leave everyone’s expectations behind, because they understood each other and that was enough. 

Except the song had to come to an end at some point, and Elphaba knew those expectations wouldn’t go away. She could feel the weight of them in the diadem of emeralds that the maids had pinned into her hair before she left the palace. 

They danced another song, then two. Galinda seemed intent on dancing for the rest of the night, but she was breathing more quickly; the room was warm now, filled with people and dancing couples. Elphaba was just going to suggest that she get them something to drink when she saw Lord Upland’s distinctive top hat cutting his way through the crowd. She instinctively took Galinda’s hand, but it was too late. Lord Upland was standing in front of them now, with Prince Fiyero standing a couple of steps behind them. He looked up at them almost sheepishly, inclining his head in a small nod. “Galinda, I’m sure your fiance would appreciate a dance with you.” He tried to keep his voice light, but Elphaba heard the annoyance underneath. It was like he thought he shouldn’t have had to tell her this.

A blush crawled across the back of Fiyero’s neck. “My Lord, I really don’t—”

“Nonsense, my boy,” Lord Upland said, clapping him on the shoulder. “My daughter knows what’s expected of her.” 

Galinda’s hand tightened in Elphaba’s. “He’s not my fiance yet, Father.” 

The room seemed to grow cold. Lord Upland’s smile seemed to harden. The rest of the party whirled on around them: couples twirling across the dance floor, councillors of state clumped together in the corners muttering over their drinks, Father making a group of Vinkan delegates roar with laughter. But the air went hard and sharp between them. For a moment Elphaba worried that he would slap Galinda, even though they were surrounded by people. She took a small step in front of her, gently inserting herself into the line of fire. 

Lord Upland kept his composure, though it seemed to take an effort. “But he will be, Galinda.” His voice was low and hard. 

Elphaba squeezed her hand. “Galinda, go dance with him,” she whispered. “I need to get a drink anyway.” Galinda glanced at her pleadingly, but she gave the tiniest shake of her head. With any luck Lord Upland would have too much to drink and forget all about the incident by the following morning. But if he didn’t, Elphaba didn’t want to give him any more reason to take his anger out on his daughter. She knew that he’d never raised a hand to her—not as far as Galinda was willing to tell her, at least. But he was willing to say horrible things to her, the same sorts of things that Elphaba had grown up hearing in the Governor’s House in Munchkinland. It made her blood boil, but there was nothing she could do about it short of inviting Galinda to the Emerald Palace as often as she could. Galinda wouldn’t achieve the age of majority for two more years, and until she did she was as good as her father’s property. If he wanted to—if he thought that Elphaba was a bad influence on her—he could pull Galinda out of Shiz. 

Elphaba lingered by the drinks table, trying to gracefully accept congratulations from a pair of Gillikinese diplomats while she watched Galinda dance with Fiyero. Fiyero was a good dancer, each of his steps even and measured. One of his hands pressed into Galinda’s waist, their heads bending close together as they laughed about something. They looked like they belonged together, like a prince and a princess out of a storybook. Elphaba’s stomach twisted. 

The ballroom suddenly felt too small and too hot, with all of the people crowded inside of it. Their voices formed a cacophony in the air, mixing with the music, and she suddenly couldn’t stand to be inside. “Excuse me,” she told the couple, trying to keep her head high and her back straight as she walked out of the ballroom. She let her composure drop as soon as she turned the corner, rushing down the stairs that led to the winter garden, an area of the palace that was strictly off limits to visiting guests. 

Father had created the winter garden almost a decade ago to house some of the garden plants when it grew too cold for them to be outside. The room was always warm, even in the depths of winter, and filled with sweet smelling flowers in neat pots. Rows of climbing plants climbed neat wooden trellises and a soft golden light permeated the entire room. It wasn’t exactly like being out in the garden, but it was close enough. Elphaba often came here when she needed a break from public functions, or a piece of the outside world when she couldn’t afford to take the time to go all the way to the gardens. 

She sat down on the floor, the long skirts of her party dress pooling out around her. Her heart hammered in her chest. Whenever she closed her eyes she kept seeing Galinda’s forehead bent close to Fiyero’s, sharing a joke that the rest of the world wasn’t in on—that she wasn’t in on. It shouldn’t have mattered. Fiyero might not have been Galinda’s betrothed yet, but he was as good as. Shouldn’t she be glad they were getting along better? 

Why was she feeling jealous, when she knew she didn’t have a chance with Galinda in the first place? 

She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there, examining a pot of blue and white orchids that only grew in the far south of Quadling Country, when the door burst open. At first she thought it was Father, coming to see why she’d fled her own party. Instead, Galinda stood in the doorway. “Elphaba, what are you doing in here? You’re missing the dancing—” 

“I don’t want to dance. Not right now.” Elphaba looked down at her hands, twisting together in her lap almost of their own accord. “I’m not feeling well. But you can dance with Fiyero--” 

Galinda shut the door and came to stand above her. The soft golden lights gilded her hair, lighting up the back of her head like a halo. “I don’t want to dance with Fiyero, Elphie. I want to dance with you.” She pressed the back of her hand to Elphaba’s forehead, her lips pinched tight with concern. “Hmm. You don’t feel very warm. Were you feeling poorly earlier today? You didn’t say anything.” 

“No, it just came on. I must have eaten something at dinner that disagreed with me. Really, Galinda, you don’t have to worry--” 

Galinda sat down across from her, so close their knees touched. The worry in her big brown eyes prompted a wave of guilt in Elphaba. She knew Galinda was thinking about her mother, and how quickly her condition had deteriorated. “Honestly, Elphie. Do you really think I’m that stupid?”

Elphaba had expected she’d have to persuade Galinda to leave and go back to Fiyero—Galinda was too kind to leave her alone while she thought she was ill—but she hadn’t expected her to say that. “Er…what?” 

Galinda squeezed her hand. “You don’t think I know, after all this time, when you’re lying to me?” 

“I’m not lying—” 

Galinda arranged her skirts around her, leaning up against a table leg. Neat rows of empty pots were lined up on top of the table. “You can either tell me what’s wrong now or we can sit here until you do. I can wait all night, Elphie.”

 Her eyes were hard with determination. Elphaba recognized that look. She knew she wouldn’t hold out against it. She tried to think of a way to share enough of the truth without running the risk of ruining their friendship. “I just didn’t feel like dancing tonight.” 

“You always feel like dancing, Elphie. Even when you’re sick, you feel like dancing. I’m the one who has to tell you not to exhaust yourself.” 

And normally, Galinda was right. “Not tonight.” Her voice came out flat and unconvincing, even to her own ears. 

“Elphie,” Galinda whined. “You really are a terrible liar.” 

Elphaba squeezed her eyes shut. Her heart raced. If she said how she really felt…who knew how Galinda would react? Would she be disgusted? Would she run away? 

Could their friendship really end, right here and right now?

She didn’t realize there were silent tears streaming down her cheeks until Galinda gasped and dug a handkerchief out of her shift. It smelled of lavender and rosewater and a soft scent that was uniquely Galinda’s. “Elphie, what’s wrong? Do you want me to get your father? Do you need a doctor?” Elphaba could hear the anxiety in her voice growing with each word, ratcheting higher and higher. 

“No,” Elphaba said, and then cleared her throat because she didn’t sound convincing at all. “Please don’t get Father. I don’t need a doctor. It’s just…” She tried to speak. Stopped. Started again. 

The fear in Galinda’s eyes finally gave her the courage to get the words out. “Seeing you with Fiyero made me jealous.” She looked down at the ground, so she wouldn’t have to see the surprise break across Galinda’s pretty face, and then turn to disgust. “I wanted to be the one who danced with you instead. I always want to be the one who dances with you.” Silence hung between them and the last few words came out before she could stop them. “I’m in love with you, Galinda. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you—” 

“Is that all?” Galinda asked, She buried her head in her hands, letting out a short, surprised laugh. “Oz, Elphie. And here I was thinking something was actually wrong.” 

However Elphaba had expected her to act, this wasn’t it. “I don’t…you don’t hate me?” 

Galinda laughed. “Elphie, I could never hate you! And I certainly don’t hate you anyway considering I feel the same way.” 

Elphaba’s brain stopped working. She was vaguely aware that the world hadn’t stopped; she could still hear the faint drift of voices from upstairs, the footsteps of guards on patrol further along the corridor, Galinda’s soft breathing. But it felt like she had stopped, unable to move past those words, the words she had never imagined Galinda saying even in her wildest and dizziest daydreams. I feel the same way. “You…what?” 

“I’ve been in love with you since August!” Galinda cried. “But I was so sure you didn’t feel the same way. You’re always so focused on your studies. I didn’t want to get in the way. And it was a torment sharing a room with you this whole year. A good torment, of course, but I had to hide it and I was so sure you were going to figure it out and I didn’t want to ruin anything because you’re my best friend, Elphie, and I can’t imagine losing you over something as simple as—”

Elphaba didn’t know what possessed her to close the space between them, one of her arms wrapping around Galinda’s waist to pull her close, the other tangling in her neat curls. She didn’t know what possessed her to lean forward and kiss her.

Kissing Galinda was terrifying at first. Elphaba had never kissed anyone in her life and she had no idea if she was doing it right, no idea if Galinda was enjoying it—at least until Galinda made a little moan in the back of her throat and pulled her closer, until the only thing separating them were their party dresses. Then Elphaba couldn’t think anymore. She couldn’t worry about where to put her hands because there was no room in her brain for worry. All that mattered was sensation: Galinda’s lips against hers, her hand coming up to cup the back of her cheek, love and wonder clear in her eyes. Elphaba brought her hand up to cover hers, her thumb stroking across the ridge of Galinda’s cheekbone. Galinda’s mouth was open slightly, like she was trying to think of something but couldn’t find the words. 

Elphaba knew the feeling. There were no words, not for this. 

“I love you too,” she said, because it was the only thing she could say. It was the only thing that mattered. 

Galinda flipped her with a strength that Elphaba didn’t know she possessed, until she was lying on her back staring up at the soft golden lights, with Galinda perched above her. Galinda kissed her almost desperately, like she thought she would never get the chance again—like she’d been starving for it, like she wouldn’t be able to survive without it. One of her hands came up to tangle in Elphaba’s hair, the other splaying across her chest to pin her in place. 

“Elphie?” she murmured when they finally had to come up for air. 

“What?” Elphaba whispered, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. Galinda’s eyes were dark with something she had never seen there before—lust, maybe. She felt something tighten in her core. 

“I think I’m sick too,” Galinda said. She coughed, unconvincingly. “I think you gave me whatever you have. I don’t think we should go back to the party. We might be contagious. We wouldn’t want to get anyone else sick.” 

Elphaba nodded. “So where should we go, my sweet?” 

Galinda lazily traced a finger down the side of her face, lingering at the edge of her lip. “Why don’t we go back to your room? Rest is important for sick people, isn’t it?” 

Elphaba told one of the guards to let her father know that she and Galinda had both gotten food poisoning, they were going back to their rooms, they would be fine, and he didn’t need to check in on them. They would be back to normal after a good night’s sleep. 

They didn’t get to sleep until the early hours of the morning, long after the last few guests had departed. 

Elphaba woke up first. For a moment she just watched Galinda sleep, the sunlight filtering in through the curtains tracing patterns along her cheek. She seemed softer in her sleep, the furrow between her brows smoothed away. Peaceful, without her father here to worry her. Elphaba wished she could take her away from him forever. She wished they could stay in her room, shut away from the rest of the world and the expectations on their shoulders, forever. 

As soon as she woke up, the first thing Galinda said was “I can’t marry Fiyero.” And Elphaba knew she couldn’t let her. 

They spent most of the day having whispered conversations. They decided the best thing to do was run out the clock. If they could just make it through the next couple of years, if Galinda could finish her degree at Shiz…her father would have no power over her anymore. They could come to some kind of understanding with Fiyero, an arrangement where Galinda wouldn’t have to marry him. Perhaps she’d give him some kind of financial payout for the failed engagement, but she would be free. Free to live with Elphaba. Free to make their own kind of life, one where they didn’t forget the expectations on their shoulders but twisted them into something they could live with—into lives that included each other. 

On that beautiful morning, anything seemed possible. 

A few hours later, a maid barged in without knocking. She didn’t even look at Galinda, curled around Elphaba in a way that was extremely suggestive, even though they were both fully clothed. “Your Ozness, it’s your father. He’s very sick.” 

Elphaba could only remember that night in bits and pieces: the way she’d raced to Father’s apartments, with Glinda close on her heels; the murmured words of the doctors (something was wrong with Father’s kidneys, or maybe his liver); the servants whispering out in the corridor. The more religious prayed, and Elphaba didn’t blame them. No one knew what they would do in a world without the Wizard of Oz. 

She sat on a settee in Father’s sitting room, with Galinda sitting next to her and holding her hands. Galinda didn’t say that Father would be all right, when even the doctors couldn’t say that for certain. She just refused to leave Elphaba’s side, so that whatever news Elphaba got, she wouldn’t need to hear it alone. A deep pit of terror had opened in Elphaba’s stomach as she realized she might actually lose Father. She might have to rule Oz herself, long before she was ready.

 Only Galinda’s calm and steady presence at her side kept her from losing it entirely. “Let’s not panic until we know we need to,” she said, stroking Elphaba’s hair and resting her head against her shoulder. At least Elphaba knew that no matter what happened, Galinda would still be there for her. 

When the doctors finally came to see her, Elphaba’s heart clenched in her chest. She scanned their downcast eyes and their pursed lips for any hints about the news they carried. They didn’t mince words. They told her Father was alive. It had been touch and go for a while, but he would make a full recovery. Then they let her see him. It was the first time she’d left Galinda’s side in nearly forty eight hours. 

Father seemed diminished somehow, propped up on a mound of pillows, a blanket pulled up over him. His usually immaculate hair was tousled and there was a yellow tinge to his skin that made her heart race. “Sorry to worry you, kid,” he said, pulling her into a hug that made him wince. 

“Don’t scare me like that again.” She tried to keep her voice light, but she found she couldn’t. She’d been too afraid. She’d thought she was going to lose the last parent she had left. 

“I’ll try not to,” he said. 

“The drinking stops. Now.” Elphaba had known it was a problem for a while, especially around the time of year her mother died. But it was a delicate topic, so she’d tried to ignore it—until it had nearly taken him away from her. Now she couldn’t afford to ignore it again. 

He didn’t fight her. Perhaps he didn’t have the energy. And the drinking didn’t stop that day, though it did begin to taper off. Sometimes there were relapses, but for the most part Father tried his best. Elphaba knew he tried for her, because he knew that she didn’t want him to leave her so soon. But Elphaba also found herself needing to consider the possibility that she might be called to the throne at any time. When that happened, who did she need by her side? Who could she not live without? 

The answer was always, always Galinda. But they were still young and they still had time, or so Elphaba hoped. They just needed to push off Galinda’s engagement for another few years, until they were just a little older and then Elphaba could propose herself. She was sure Fiyero of all people wouldn’t put up a fight. 

That had been the plan, at least. Until Fiyero’s older brother died and Lord Upland forced her hand. 

The rest of the day seemed to go by slowly and all at once. In the moment there were all kinds of little things to do, but when it was over Elphaba couldn’t believe it had passed so quickly. The sun was setting over the spires of the Emerald Palace now and it was time for her to get ready for the performance of her life so far. No one except the few people in the know could even suspect that she was about to run off with the groom’s fiancee until they were already in the carriage, on their way out of the Emerald City. They would get married on the way to Gillikin and then go to stay with Galinda’s aunt until the uproar died down. Simple, concrete steps. If she followed them all, Elphaba would get to marry the love of her life. 

First, she had to find a chauffeur willing to have the carriage ready and waiting for them after the last dance. Luckily her favorite driver, a transplant from Gillikin who had been working at the Emerald Palace for as long as she could remember, was on duty that night. And he agreed readily when she asked him to be ready to pick her up just after midnight. 

“Where are we going, your Highness?” he asked. 

Elphaba hesitated, suddenly uncertain how much to tell him. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him, but the stables weren’t exactly empty. She could hear the stable boys shouting to each other, horses nickering in their stalls, hooves clattering in the riding school next door. If word got back to Lord Upland, he wouldn’t put it past him to lock Galinda in her bedroom until the ball was over. But she had to tell the driver something, because this wasn’t a routine social call. She settled for saying “Out of the Emerald City.” 

She saw him realize the seriousness of her words. He nodded once. “Of course, your Highness. Wherever you need to go.” 

She squeezed his hand. “Thank you so much. I’ll see you at midnight.” 

“I’ll be ready.” The driver dipped his hat to her, even though he must have known how much he was risking to help her. Elphaba felt a lump rise and catch in her throat, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it because there were so many other things to do. She told her most trusted maid to sneak into Galinda’s suite and pack a small bag for her-nothing that would be missed, nothing that would draw attention, but enough to keep her comfortable for a couple of extra days if their journey to Gillikin took longer than expected. She packed her own bag, quickly, before the servants came back to get her ready for the ball. She packed a couple of nightgowns, a couple of dresses, a handful of toiletries, a few books. She ignored the tightening in her chest, unable to tell whether it was from excitement or nerves. Even if these weren’t ideal circumstances—slipping out of her home in the middle of the night, leaving a commotion in her wake (though Elphaba had never particularly minded causing a commotion)—she was still going to marry the woman she loved. 

When the maids came to get her ready for the ball she was sitting on the edge of the windowseat, pretending to read. In reality she was looking out at the lawn, where Lord Upland was directing a few last minute decorations. He snapped at a server who placed two bouquets of flowers too close together and insisted a banner emblazoned with the intertwined Upland and Tigelaar crests wasn’t hanging straight. Elphaba squeezed her hands into fists, so her magic wouldn’t flare up. As much as she wished she could wipe that smug smirk off of his face, a lot of powerful men in Gillikin would be angry if Highmuster Arduenna Upland was humiliated in front of the most important people in the Emerald City. 

At least, if the humiliation could be traced back to her. 

The maids pulled out a beautiful white and gold party dress and the necklace of emeralds that Father had given her for her 22nd birthday. They chattered amongst themselves as they styled her hair, pulling some of her braids up in the back. Elphaba knew they’d try a more adventurous hairstyle if they could, but her tastes were rather more reserved. She’d never seen the appeal in piling all of her hair up on top of her head, even if it was the fashion in the Emerald City. 

“What do you think of Prince Fiyero, your Highness?” one of the maids asked, doing up the necklace’s clasp so it hung cold against her throat. 

“Is he as handsome in person as he is on the magazine covers?” her friend asked, squeaking in pain when the first maid stepped on her foot. 

Elphaba laughed, glad for the reminder that for some people this was just a normal night, just a normal ball. 

“He’s certainly handsome. Not my type, though.” 

She could practically feel the girls exchange a look, trying to work up the courage to ask something else. Still, she was a little surprised when one of them asked “What is your type, your Highness?” 

Such familiarity would never have been allowed at the Upland manor, but Father had always seen their servants as a sort of surrogate family. He said the Emerald Palace felt too much like a museum and not like a home if the servants didn’t live in it too. “I’m not sure,” Elphaba said, as they pinned her hair in place. “I suppose I’m partial to blondes.” 

“Prince Fiyero is blonde,” one of the maids sighed. 

The other girl elbowed her just beneath her rib cage. “And he’s engaged to be married!” 

“Right. Sorry.” The girl’s cheeks flushed and Elphaba laughed in spite of herself. “I’m sorry, your Highness. I didn’t mean to—” 

“That’s quite all right,” Elphaba said. “I won’t tell him if you don’t.” She mimed locking her lips and throwing the key over her shoulder. “Although, between the three of us…” She let the pause drag out for a moment, then two, as the maids leaned forward to listen to her. “There is someone I’m trying to impress at tonight’s ball.” Their eyes widened. “So I need you to make me as fashionable as I can be.” 

Both of the maids nodded vigorously. “Would you like to wear makeup?” the first maid asked, shifting from foot to foot curiously. 

“If you think it will help, yes. I’m entirely at your mercy.” The girls exchanged an excited glance before they set to work. With a pang in her chest, Elphaba realized they reminded her of the way she and Galinda had acted a few years before, crowding around Galinda’s vanity mirror and experimenting with different combinations of blush and eye shadow. 

She wondered what Glinda was doing now, what she might be feeling. Was she regretting offering to run off with Elphaba? Had her father managed to intimidate her again? If only she could talk to her one more time before the ball started and they had to play their parts…

Maybe she could, if she was careful. 

She waited until the maids had finished lacing her into her dress. It was a beautiful confection of white and gold, much more formal than anything she would have chosen for herself, but the Upland-Tigelaar wedding was one of the most important social gatherings of the year. Sacrifices had to be made. “Thank you, girls. You can leave now.” They both bobbed quick curtsies and walked out, still whispering to each other about Prince Fiyero. Elphaba rummaged among the detritus on top of her desk and then headed down the hallway.

Thankfully, Elphaba didn’t run into any servants on the way to Galinda’s suite. When she knocked on the door, the servants that the Uplands had brought with them from Gillikin scattered with wordless curtseys. “Leave us.” The servants obeyed. They might have been told to watch Galinda at all times, but they couldn’t disobey a direct order from the Emerald Princess herself. 

Galinda was sitting in a chair in front of her vanity, wearing a pale pink gown covered in organza flowers. It was so ornate it seemed to wrap around her like a cage, full skirt flowing out from her waist. Small white heels peeked out from under her skirt. Her hair had been twisted up into a crown braid on top of her head; a few larger locks had been left to dangle free, brushing her shoulders. Her eyes were ever so slightly puffy, like she’d been crying. “Elphaba! You’re not supposed to be here yet,” she whispered. 

“I had to see you, my sweet,” Elphaba replied, shutting the door behind her with a soft click. “I wanted to talk to you and make sure you haven’t changed your mind.” She started to work the tension out of Galinda’s shoulders; Galinda’s eyes fluttered closed and she let out a soft sigh. “I know it was all very rushed—” 

Galinda’s hand came up to cover hers, her eyes suddenly flooded with fear. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you?” 

Elphaba’s hands moved lower, over her shoulder blades, her fingertips skating across Galinda’s bare skin. She leaned in closer, so they were less likely to be overheard. “No, of course not. I still fully intend to marry you, if you’ll have me. I’ve talked to Father and Nessa and Fiyero, and they’re all on board. I’ve found a driver who’s willing to take us out of the Emerald City after the party. Everything’s been taken care of. All we have to do is get through tonight.” 

“We’ve been to balls like this before,” Galinda said. “Well, perhaps they weren’t quite as formal as this one, but--” 

“We’ll manage,” Elphaba replied. “I quite agree. You’ll just have to dance a few dances with Fiyero, so no one gets suspicious. 

“I’d rather dance every dance with you.” 

“I know, my sweet.” Elphaba pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “But after tonight, once we’re gone…we’ll be able to dance together any time we want to.” They’d danced together sometimes at Shiz, arm in arm in the suite they shared. They hadn’t had a band to play music, but they didn’t have to. They’d danced each dance with each other so many times by now that their bodies knew the steps by heart. 

“It feels like such a novelty,” Galinda said, adjusting a butterfly clip that one of her maids had woven into her hair. “A life without Father always telling me where to go and what to do and who to marry.” 

“You should have always had a life like that, my sweet.” Not for the first time, Elphaba wondered how different things could have been if Larena hadn’t died when she had. Elphaba couldn’t imagine she would let the marriage go through if she knew that Galinda and Fiyero (and Elphaba) didn’t want it. 

Galinda reached up to squeeze her hand. “We’ll build a better life together. A life without my father, and a life without all of the pressures on your shoulders.” 

“That sounds delightful.” It sounded like a fairytale, like something that couldn’t possibly be real. But it would be, in just a few hours, once the Emerald City grew smaller outside the carriage window. 

They just had to dance at one last ball. 

“You look beautiful, Galinda.” Elphaba arranged her light hair so it hung around her shoulders, artfully tousled. 

“So do you, dearest,” Galinda replied. 

Elphaba could have stayed there for the rest of the afternoon, but she knew it would look suspicious if the maids were dismissed for too long. “I’ll see you at the ball. I’ll be waiting for you in the usual spot.” 

“I can’t wait,” Galinda said. She glanced at the windows, covered with their heavy green curtains, and then at the closed door. Then she stood and turned, wrapping one arm around Elphaba’s waist to pull her closer so she could kiss her. 

For a moment, Elphaba allowed herself to dissolve into Galinda, into the warmth of her skin and her lavender perfume. She pressed Galinda back against the vanity, putting out a hand to steady them, their lips moving together in tandem. For once she didn’t think about everything that could happen at the ball, everything that could go wrong and everything that could go right. All that mattered—all that had ever mattered—was the girl in front of her. 

Galinda actually whined when Elphaba made herself take a step back. “We’re almost there, my sweet,” Elphaba said. “Then we can kiss any time we want. That’s a promise.” 

Galinda ran her fingertips along Elphaba’s shoulder, playing with a loose thread on her sleeve, near her wrist. “I’m going to hold you to that, Elphaba Thropp.” 

//

Just before eight o’clock, Elphaba found herself sitting at her vanity waiting for Father’s knock at the door. He would escort her downstairs, just like he’d escorted her to so many other balls in the Emerald Palace. And then she would have to put on the performance of her life. 

The knock on her door was softer than usual, almost tentative. She stood up, her skirts ghosting along the floor. When she opened the door, she realized her hands were shaking. 

“Ready?” Father asked. His suit jacket was embroidered with poppies--their favorite flower. It was one of the first things they’d realized they had in common when she came to live at the palace. From then on he’d ordered her a fresh bouquet every week, even while she was at Shiz. She nodded, suddenly not trusting her ability to speak. “Kid, you look absolutely gorgeous.” 

“I’m 24 now. I’m not a kid.” But she could feel herself smile. 

He chuckled. “Don’t remind me that I’m getting old.” He held out his arm and she slipped her arm through his. “Do you have a…plan for tonight?” 

“I do.” He didn’t ask anything else and she didn’t volunteer anything. It was better for him to have plausible deniability, when he had to deal with a very angry Highmuster Arduenna. 

“Good,” he said. “Do what you need to do. We’ll be fine here.” 

“Father--” 

He squeezed her hand. “We should go. The party is already in full swing. They’re going to wonder where we are if we take too much longer.” 

“Thank you.” The words felt inadequate for everything she felt, for everything he’d given her ever since he knocked on the door to the Governor’s House in Munchkinland all those years ago.

He winked at her, so quickly that Elphaba would have missed it if she hadn’t been looking right at him. “Come on. We have a party to get you to.” 

//

The downstairs ballroom had been decorated almost exclusively in white and pink. Trellises of white flowers climbed up the walls, bouquets of pink and white freesias had been placed in the middle of each circular white table, and even the dance floor had been painted in alternating shades of white and pink. Lord Upland stood in the center of the room, holding court in a white suit and a pink top hat with a matching pink rose in his boutonniere. Elphaba saw his face drop, just for a moment, when he saw the Wizard walk in wearing one of his customary green suits.

Glinda and Fiyero stood in the center of the dance floor, framed by a row of windows on either side that looked out over the Emerald City. To anyone who didn’t know them as well as Elphaba did, they would have seemed like the perfect couple: young, rich, beautiful. Fiyero’s hand rested at Glinda’s waist, just above one of the skirt’s many ruffles. His cufflinks glimmered a rose gold, clearly a wedding gift from the Uplands. Galinda’s smile was polished enough to fool anyone who didn’t know her as well as Elphaba did. But it didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

Lord Upland hurried over to them. He shook Father’s hand, leaning closer to him to whisper something that Elphaba was standing just close enough to make out. “I thought we agreed we were going to wear pink in honor of the occasion,” he whispered. 

Father shrugged. “People have come to expect certain things from me, you know. That means green, no matter what.” He nudged Elphaba forward slightly. “Elphaba, why don’t you say hello to Lord Upland?” 

“Good evening, your Highness,” Lord Upland said, giving a distracted bow. But he was already looking elsewhere, eyeing the rest of the guests to see if any of them had noticed the slip. Good. If he was distracted, he didn’t see Elphaba as a threat. Perhaps she could allow herself an extra dance with Galinda. After all, everyone was used to seeing them dance together. They’d been dance partners since they were children. No one would ever expect that their relationship had deepened and become something else. 

“Good evening, Lord Upland,” Elphaba said. She had so many other things she wanted to say to him, but nothing that would help their present situation. So, with an effort, she kept her mouth shut. “This is a lovely party.” 

Lord Upland practically puffed up with pride. “Of course, my darling girl deserves nothing but the best,” he said. Elphaba wondered if he really believed his own words. He’d resented Galinda since the day her mother died, and he’d made no secret of it. “I’m sure we’re both just thrilled that you could grace us with your presence—” 

Elphaba nodded politely and went to greet Galinda and Fiyero. Fiyero bowed while Galinda curtsied. When Elphaba took her hand to pull her to her feet, she allowed her grip to linger for a moment too long. “You look beautiful, Galinda.” 

Galinda’s blush added a hint of color to her pale cheeks. “Your Highness is kind to say so.” 

“I’m only speaking the truth. And Fiyero, I suppose you’ve cleaned up well too.” He smirked.  She shifted a little closer to them, so Lord Upland wouldn’t be able to hear. The musicians had started to play and the air was beginning to fill with the overlapping chatter of voices and the soft murmur of strings and flutes. 

“Thank you, your Highness,” Fiyero replied, moving his hand to the center of Galinda’s upper back. 

Elphaba took a step closer, glancing around the ballroom. The guests were mostly Gillikinese, although there were a few Vinkans scattered here and there. “Fiyero, is Sarima here?” She was curious to meet the woman who had finally managed to make the notoriously flighty Fiyero Tigelaar fall in love. 

Fiyero tilted his head slightly, over towards a corner where a pretty girl with brown skin and long, shiny black hair stood talking with the children of the Vinkan ambassador to the Emerald City. She wore a deep green dress and a matching ribbon to hold back their hair. She didn’t look their way once, like she was deliberately trying to ignore them. 

“She’s pretty,” Elphaba said. “Maybe when all this is over you can introduce us?” 

“I think Sarima would love that,” Fiyero said. Couples were beginning to take to the dance floor and he squeezed Galinda’s hand. “Shall we put on a show, dearest?” 

“Yes, let’s,” Galinda said. “Elphaba, I’ll find you for the third dance?” 

“Third it is.” 

Elphaba hovered near the darkened windows, looking out over the dark streets of the Emerald City as the dancing commenced. A diplomat’s son from Munchkinland that she’d been friendly with at Shiz asked her for the second dance and she assented, since she couldn’t turn him down without sounding impolite. She tried to make herself seem if not unapproachable, then at least prickly. She might have had to dance with people that weren’t Galinda tonight, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. 

She watched Fiyero twirl Galinda around the dance floor, every inch the doting fiance. He kept one hand at her waist, leaning forward every so often to murmur something that made Galinda laugh. Elphaba might have felt jealous, if she hadn’t seen Galinda’s eyes flick over to her every so often. No one else would have seen the worry in her eyes but Elphaba saw it, because she knew Galinda just as well as she knew herself. Of course she was worried, because Galinda was worried too.

She silently promised them both that tonight would be the last night they ever had to dance apart. 

On the other side of the ballroom Lord Upland was holding court. His cheeks were flushed in a way that couldn’t quite be explained by the heat of the ballroom, and he grabbed a glimmering glass goblet off of a waiter’s tray. Hopefully he was already drunk. Even if he wasn’t, if he was already drinking now, he certainly wouldn’t notice them slip out in a few hours. 

She made sure to keep an eye on him as she danced with the Munchkin, trying to follow along with his conversation about domestic affairs in his home kingdom. She was already well versed in the political situation, thanks to Nessa, but she had only visited Munchkinland a couple of times since Father came to take her away. She kept a loose count of the glasses that Lord Upland went through; certainly enough to ease their escape. She breathed a sigh of relief, covering it with a turn. Finally, something was going their way. 

Perhaps, deep down, he felt guilty. Surely he knew that Galinda had never wanted to marry Fiyero, but he’d ignored her. His daughter’s happiness was no match for his own ambitions. The two had always been incompatible, however much he wanted to pretend otherwise. Or perhaps Elphaba was being too charitable. Perhaps he would go to his grave claiming that he had never done anything wrong, that his interests always aligned with Galinda’s and she was simply too stupid to see it. 

It didn’t matter. After tonight, Elphaba would ensure that he never went near his daughter again, if that was what Galinda wanted. 

Finally the time came for the third dance, and Galinda beelined straight towards her. On the other side of the ballroom, Elphaba could see Fiyero making his way towards Sarima. It was brazen and bold, but Lord Upland was too far gone to notice. “Are you ready for our dance, darling?” Galinda asked as Elphaba slipped her hand into hers. 

“I’m always ready to dance with you, my sweet,” Elphaba replied, squeezing her hand. Galinda’s engagement ring scratched against her palm. It reminded Elphaba of the ring sitting in her pocket, grabbed from her mother’s jewelry box at the last moment. It was hardly the ring that Galinda deserved, but it would have to be enough. Besides, Elphaba could buy her something nicer in Gillikin or even the Emerald City, once the commotion died down.

Right now, they would dance. 

It seemed the most natural thing in the world to step into place beside her, to bow as Galinda curtsied, to slide their hands together while the band played in the background. Elphaba knew every step, but beyond that she knew every move Galinda would make before she even moved. Their bodies moved in sync, perfect mirrors to each other, familiarity born out of years and years of the same movements, the same steps on ballroom floors and parlor dancing lessons. The rest of the ballroom fell away, as it always did when she danced with Galinda, because there was no place for the rest of the world in the bubble they created for themselves. For once Elphaba didn’t worry about how they would pull off their escape, or whether anyone would notice them looking at each other too intently. All that mattered was that they were dancing together, just like they always had. 

One dance turned into two, and then three. Some of the dances were slower, and others were faster. It didn’t matter; they knew every single one. The couples who were on the dance floor with them cycled in and out, but Elphaba and Galinda didn’t move. They stayed with each other for dance after dance, as the night deepened and guests began to trickle out in ones and twos, until there were only a few couples left dancing. When Elphaba finally looked up to take stock of their surroundings, she saw Lord Upland holding court in the corner while Fiyero and Sarima stood in the opposite corner, talking to a couple that must have been Fiyero’s parents. Nessa had drifted over to join them.

Father was talking with a couple members of the State Council, before he announced that there would be one last dance. “The almost-newlyweds need to get some sleep, after all,” he said. His eyes strayed over to the dance floor, just for a moment. Elphaba hoped Lord Upland didn’t see. 

She squeezed Galinda’s hand. “One last dance, darling?” 

“One last dance,” Galinda echoed. For now, Elphaba told herself. 

Once they were married, they’d have all the time in the world to dance together. 

//

The dance floor emptied quickly after the musicians lay down their instruments. Elphaba left first, as she’d planned. For just a moment she hovered in the doorway, watching Galinda find Fiyero. He slipped her hand around her waist and drew her to him slightly, the movement seemingly so natural that Elphaba would never have suspected that it was practiced. Lord Upland came to speak to them, presumably going over last minute instructions for the next day. Neither of them seemed to be able to get a word in edgewise; Elphaba could see the tension build in Fiyero’s shoulder and jaw as he listened, trying not to let his gaze stray across the ballroom to Sarima. 

When Lord Upland took a step closer to Galinda, Elphaba had to stop herself from interfering and pushing him back. But she couldn’t make a scene now, even though she didn’t want Lord Upland anywhere near his daughter. He said something Elphaba couldn’t hear and clapped her on the shoulder. Galinda’s smile seemed fixed and wan. Elphaba imagined her pleading a headache, telling him that she might need to sleep in the following day.  Fiyero squeezed her hand. And then finally, after what felt like an eternity, Fiyero and Galinda started to walk towards the arched doors that led out of the ballroom and Elphaba hurried to the carriage, stopping quickly in the Small Library to change into her traveling clothes: a plain black dress and skirt that would have been suitably nondescript, if she hadn’t had green skin. 

The carriage was waiting exactly where the driver had said he would be; Elphaba nodded a quick hello to him as she climbed inside and settled in to wait. The minutes crawled by—five, ten, fifteen—and she began to feel antsy. There were plenty of reasons for Galinda to be delayed—waylaid by well wishers, perhaps, or cornered by Fiyero’s parents. It didn’t necessarily mean that Lord Upland had found out about their plan. 

The minutes ticked by and Galinda still didn’t arrive. Elphaba was just about to go into the castle and find her when the back door creaked open and a small figure slipped out, barely visible in the darkness. The figure detached itself from the castle wall and rushed towards the carriage, where Elphaba fumbled to open the door. As soon as she did, Galinda practically threw herself inside. She was wearing dark clothing as well, most of her distinctive light hair bundled under a knit hat. She practically jumped into Elphaba’s arms; Elphaba could feel it pattering hard and fast against her chest. “I’m sorry I’m late,” she murmured into the ridge of Elphaba’s collarbone. “By the time we finally managed to get Father to stop talking, Fiyero’s father came up to us and he wouldn’t stop talking either. The Wizard had to intervene and tell them that it was far too late and we all needed to go to sleep.” 

Elphaba carded her fingers through her hair and rubbed her back, trying to reassure both of them. “It’s all right, my sweet. You’re here now. That’s all that matters.” She knocked on the roof of the carriage and a moment later it began to move, towards the archway that led out of the Palace courtyard and into the city streets. 

Elphaba drew the curtains at the windows, so the Emerald City went by behind a soft piece of black cloth. There were still some people in the streets this late at night, trailing home from parties and dinners and the theater. The balmy air was filled with voices and laughter and a couple of overtired children crying in their mother’s arms. Elphaba had always loved the noise and bustle of the Emerald City; it couldn’t have been more different from Munchkinland, which was provincial and almost staid by comparison. 

“Do you ever miss Munchkinland?” Galinda had asked her one night, when they were much younger and trying and failing to sleep. 

“Not really,” Elphaba had said, glancing up at the spray of stars Father had painted across her ceiling. She missed Nessa and wished they could spend more time together outside of her thrice yearly trips to the Emerald City, but she didn’t miss the Munchkins’  judgemental glares or the Governor’s silent disapproval. At least in the Emerald City everything was green, so she didn’t stick out quite so much. 

Galinda didn’t say anything now. She looked at the mirror, her lips pressed together into a thin line. The tension was heavy between them; Elphaba suspected they wouldn’t relax until they were well clear of the Emerald City and on their way to Gillikin. 

She felt her mother’s ring in her pocket and pulled it out, taking Galinda’s hand in hers. “I know it isn’t much, but I figured you ought to have something. Since we’re practically engaged, after all.” 

Galinda gasped as Elphaba slipped the ring onto her finger. “Oh, Elphie.” 

“It was my mother’s. We can get it resized if it doesn’t fit—” But it fit Glinda perfectly. It slid neatly over her knuckle and rested on her finger like it had been made especially for her. The emerald sparkled up at them in the dim light of the carriage and if Elphaba had been a more sentimental person she might have thought that it was a sign from her mother, blessing their union in the only way she could. 

“It’s beautiful,” Galinda whispered. “Melena Thropp had excellent taste in jewelry.” 

“Frexspar said she was always partial to emeralds.” 

“I am too,” Galinda said. 

“Really? I would have thought you liked diamonds.” Galinda had always struck her as rather traditionally elegant in her tastes: in clothing, jewelry, and interior decorating. 

Galinda shook her head. “I like emeralds, because they remind me of you.” She pressed herself against Elphaba until there was no space in between them, until the tension grew so thick inside the carriage Elphaba could have cut it with a knife. 

“My sweet,” Elphaba tried to say, but Galinda kissed her instead. Her lips were warm, especially against the cold of the night, and they were possessive. She kissed Elphaba like no one had ever kissed her before and she didn’t think anyone ever would again. And that said everything Elphaba had to know, as she tangled her fingers in Galinda's hair to pull her closer. 

//

They reached the church just after midnight. 

It was on the outskirts of Gillikin, halfway between the Emerald City and Galinda’s aunt’s house. It was small and modest, with ivy creeping up its white stone walls. The bells were silent, the windows dark. The small adjoining house where the minister lived was silent as well. “We’re here, my sweet,” Elphaba whispered, pressing a kiss to Galinda’s forehead. Galinda’s eyes fluttered open; she’d been sleeping for about half an hour, her head resting against Elphaba’s shoulder. “I’ll go wake the minister.” Elphaba checked her pockets to ensure the wad of bills Nessa had given her was still safely tucked inside. Normally, to have a wedding properly recognized certain steps needed to be taken: announcements posted in newspapers, banns read in church. But in practice, almost anyone could get married as long as they made a big enough donation, and Nessa’s was more than substantial. 

Elphaba knocked on the door to the rectory once, then twice. Some of the rectories in the Emerald City were elaborate affairs, with teams of servants waiting to open the doors. This rectory was so small she doubted more than one person could fit inside of it at a time. And indeed, the minister opened the door himself and stared out at them with bleary eyes. He was wearing a robe over a pair of blue and white pajamas, his glasses askew on the bridge of his nose. “What in Oz is…” He trailed off when he saw Elphaba’s green skin. “Oh. Your Ozness.” It sounded like he was half convinced he was still in a dream. 

“We’re terribly sorry to disturb you, Minister,” Elphaba said. “But my fiancee and I need to be married, immediately.” She held out Glinda’s hand so he would be able to see their rings. 

The minister glanced between them, his mouth hanging open slightly. “This is all highly improper,” he said after a moment. Elphaba pulled out the stack of bills. There was another long silence. “Let’s go to the church.” 

The church wasn’t much fancier inside. There were a couple of paintings of various saints, carvings of flowers etched into the edges of the pews, and a couple of stained glass windows that leered garishly at them through the darkness. The altar smelled faintly of incense as the minister, now wearing soft purple robes, gestured for them to stand in front of the altar. An altar boy rubbed his eyes in an attempt to stay awake, probably there to act as a witness. Their carriage driver sat in the front row, a second witness in case Lord Upland tried to declare the first invalid. Elphaba would leave nothing to chance. They might be marrying quickly, but she would make sure they married in such a way that the viability of their union would not be questioned. 

 Elphaba had always imagined that she would marry at the cathedral in the heart of the Emerald City, where each seat would be filled with invited guests. She would be wearing an exquisite dress that took a team of seamstresses the better part of a year to make. The bells would ring out across the Emerald City and the streets would be filled with people celebrating the free holiday, cheering her name and throwing flowers at her carriage. But she realized she didn’t at all mind being married in this place, half devoured by nature, with only a sleepy priest and altar boy to witness and no flowers to speak of. Galinda stood next to her, her hand tucked softly into Elphaba’s, and that was enough. That was perfect. 

“Do you take this woman to be your lawful and honorably wedded wife, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, in the best of times and the worst of times, for as long as you both shall live?” The minister shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose with an agitated movement of his finger. 

“I do,” Elphaba said, and she had never met two words more. 

The minister turned to Galinda. “Do you take this woman to be your lawful and honorably wedded wife, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, in the best of times and the worst of times, for as long as you both shall live?” 

Galinda gave her a smile that was brighter than all of the stars visible in the sky above the church. “I do.” 

It wasn’t quite that simple—there were more prayers to be said, more blessings to be imparted, and what Elphaba was sure was the world’s shortest sermon about the fruits of virtue and honesty—but the ceremony was already over in Elphaba’s mind. They had promised themselves to each other in the eyes of a minister and the Unnamed God. They had exchanged rings. The most important part of the ceremony was over. 

Finally the minister pronounced them wives and Elphaba kissed Galinda with perhaps a little more force than was strictly necessary for a wedding just after two in the morning in the middle of the Gillikin wilds. They were both giggling uncontrollably. All of their subterfuge had paid off; they’d managed to sneak away from Lord Upland and now they were indissolubly joined. Father couldn’t have undone the marriage, even had he wanted to. Lord Upland certainly couldn’t. Marriages were sacred in the eyes of the church. Galinda was safe. They were safe. And Elphaba could have kissed her forever, but the minister and the altar boy were very clearly flagging. They filled out the paperwork in the vestibule of the church and shared a quiet cup of tea with the minister in his cramped rectory, but he didn’t ask many questions and they didn’t offer any information. Clearly, he was already thinking of his bed. 

As soon as the tea was gone and the cups had been placed in the sink, Galinda and Elphaba clambered back in the carriage for the remainder of their ride. Now that the wedding was over, now that Galinda was safe, Elphaba could feel the last of her adrenaline fading away. All that was left was a deep pit of exhaustion. 

Galinda must have seen it in her eyes because she opened her arms and said “Come here, Elphie.” And Elphaba did, curling into her and bracing herself against the wall of the carriage, the rocking of the carriage quickly lulling her to sleep.

//

They arrived at Amaryllis Arduenna’s manor house just as the sun was beginning to rise. The house was made of a soft coral stone that glowed in the early morning sunlight. She lived even farther up the mountain than the Uplands, and the fields around her house were scattered with rocks and old circles of standing stones that had been there since time out of mind. A bright blue lake sparkled in the distance, impossibly clear in the morning light. The air seemed thinner up here, but fresher, and full of possibility. Galinda slipped her arm through Elphaba’s and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek as Elphaba gave the driver half of the rest of the money leftover in her pocket and they carried their bags to the front steps. She let Galinda raise the heavy gold door knocker and bring it down with a heavy bang: once, twice, three times. 

Amaryllis Arduenna didn’t seem particularly surprised to see them, despite the early hour. She was nearly a head shorter than her brother, though she had his commanding presence—but where Lord Upland’s presence could sometimes feel overwhelming, Amaryllis only seemed regal. She smiled when she saw their rings and traveling clothes, pulling Galinda into a hug. “I knew you had it in you,” she whispered, running her fingers through Galinda’s hair. 

As Elphaba stepped inside, Amaryllis pulled her into a hug as well. “We eloped,” Elphaba said, perhaps unnecessarily. “Lord Upland will no doubt be coming after us.” 

“Let him come,” Amaryllis said, a smile tugging at her upper lips. “He won’t get past the front door. You’re welcome for as long as you need to stay. Come in, please.” She held the door open wider, as silent servants swept down the stairs to pick up their bags. “I imagine you’re both very tired from your journey. Would you like to go upstairs, or will you join me for tea?” 

Elphaba exchanged a glance with Galinda and felt her cheeks pink. When they went upstairs, Elphaba had no intention of sleeping. “I’m sure we could manage tea.” 

Amaryllis’s house had a distinctly feminine touch. Almost everything was decorated in soft shades of pink, purple, and blue. All of the furniture was tastefully chosen, one room feeding perfectly into another. Amaryllis led the conversation, filling their teacups and heaping their plates with scones, as if she suspected they hadn’t had a chance to eat the night before. Elphaba was happy to fill her in on their plans, while Galinda regaled her with stories of their thrilling escape that grew and grew in the telling. 

Finally, when the tea was gone and the scones were eaten, Amaryllis escorted them to a guest room upstairs that was decorated in pale pink and had a beautiful view over the fields. Elphaba could have watched the way the sun rose in the sky, shifting sunlight across the fields and the mountains that rose behind them, but Galinda pulled her down to the bed. For a moment they just looked at each other, the excitement between them palpable. “Elphie, how can I ever repay you?” Galinda asked, tracing a finger down the side of her cheek. 

“Just live,” Elphaba whispered. “As happily as you can.” 

“Then it’s a good thing I’m with you,” Galinda said, leaning in to kiss her, one of her hands coming to play with the hem of Elphaba’s shirt. “Because I think we’ll be very, very happy together.” 

“Funny. I thought the same thing.” And then Galinda pulled her down to the mattress and they didn’t talk anymore. 

They didn’t need to. Everything they’d needed to say had already been said. All that was left to do was live.