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The night was sharp and chilled, the wind carrying a bite, but it was the loneliness that felt truly cold.
Glinda leaned the heels of her palms on the balcony railing, peering into the inky blackness beyond the verdant city lights. It had become her nightly ritual in the weeks since… since it all changed. Since she changed things. She was still changing things, bit by bit, day by day, signature by signature and speech by speech.
It was strange, she mused, that after a lifetime of preparing to be a figurehead, a poster girl, a façade… here she was, an actual politician. She’d always assumed she’d marry someone powerful, or simply be affiliated with the elite enough to garner respect and attention. She’d never really anticipated having to earn it on her own merit, her own deeds. She never could have predicted she’d be able to earn it. Worthy.
But… Elphaba believed she was. Glinda found that she was reminding herself of that about fifty times a day. Elphaba had looked at her and saw that she was worthy. She trusted her. She entrusted her, with both the Grimmerie and with her legacy.
And then she was gone. Forever. So, the loneliness.
Glinda breathed out a little shakily, trying to focus on her busy schedule for the next day rather than the crushing, aching void in her chest. She had three morning meetings, then an official lunch with the Emerald City Players Committee to discuss their upcoming performance season, and then a packed afternoon of yet more meetings. Her evening, the only time of day she ever had to herself except when she was attempting to sleep, was sure to consist of reading through proposed legislation. She pushed upright from the balcony railing, feeling exhausted already. But she kept busy for a reason; the same reason she came outside every night without fail, eyes trained on the horizon that seemed to call to her with Elphaba’s voice. Grief would consume her if she stayed still for too long… yet she couldn’t keep pushing it down.
“Elphie,” she whispered, the first time in weeks she’d said the name out loud. Tears ran down her cheeks as she allowed herself, for once, to feel the weight and scale of her longing. She wished… more than anything, she wished…
Swallowing and shaking her head, she turned and drifted back into her apartment, damp and stinging eyes wandering until they caught on the Grimmerie. She still couldn’t read it, exactly, but it responded to her. Eager, almost, like it wanted them to work together. Sometimes she turned the pages and sometimes the pages turned by themselves, stirred by some ethereal breeze. Sometimes she stared at the delicate lines of script for long minutes without having any idea what they meant, and sometimes her lips shaped the edges of sounds and the words on the page would glow excitedly. Sometimes her touch would do nothing… and sometimes…
She reached out her fingertips, grazing the edge of the book, and sucked in a breath as it trembled and the pages rustled. Stepping closer, she hovered her hands over it and closed her eyes, trying to channel Elphaba, her power and her innate goodness, her wish to do something-
“Oh!” Glinda gasped, jumping as the pages began to flip under her hands, brushing her skin, the ink glowing gold. “Yes, come on, finally-!”
The book went still, but glowed even brighter. Glinda stared down at the words traced around flowing lines and shapes, uncomprehending. Yet…
“Ah-mun rah,” she murmured, the words slipping out effortlessly as her eyes followed the mysterious characters on the page, “gon-uhl, gon-uhl, gon-uhl. Ah-mun rah, gon-uhl-”
She felt a surge within her, something pulling in her chest, warmth and purpose flooding the empty, gaping well of grief. The book glowed even brighter. Breathing hard, Glinda repeated the words again, then again, louder and louder each time, pouring everything she had into them, until suddenly, with a snap, the Grimmerie slammed shut.
Glinda didn’t hesitate. She knew what to do, without quite knowing anything at all. It was an oddly reassuring feeling. Scooping up the tome in her arms, she hurried to her dressing room and changed into a travelling outfit, ringing the bell for service. She was breathless as she ordered food and water to be wrapped up for her and dictated a note to be left for ShenShen and Pfannee, asking them to postpone her immediate appointments. She felt fully awake, fully alive, for the first time since that dreadful day; she had no idea where she was going or what she would find, but she was sure, so sure, that it would be something good.
Within the hour, she was climbing into her bubble, pulling her cloak around her as she pressed her foot down to enclose herself in the flexible but tough membrane. Two of her attendants stood on the balcony, expressions helplessly confused.
“But, my Lady,” one of them called out hesitantly, voice muffled, “when will you return?”
“I don’t know!” she replied cheerfully as the vehicle began to ascend. “Isn’t that invigirifying?”
“But-”
“You’ll be fine! Follow my notes and listen to Pfannee and ShenShen. Farewell! I shall return, never fear!”
She waved, smiling widely at their shrinking figures, then turned and set her determined gaze upon that distant horizon. The bubble, unfortunately, wasn’t as fast as a galloping horse… but it was far better for a long journey. And if she was to cross that horizon into what lay beyond – the deserts of the unknown – it was sure to be days of travel.
She reached the edge of the wasteland just as the sun rose. Her excitement, which had settled throughout the long hours of darkness, began to simmer anew as she surveyed the rippling dunes. Never, in her wildest imaginings, could she have predicted that life would bring her here. Yet… she felt more sure than ever. She was headed in the right direction, although the right direction for what, she had no idea.
It was a long day. It was too hot under the sun to stay trapped within the glasshouse effect of the bubble, yet the wind blew sand into her face without it. She had to rip off a strip from the hem of her cloak and cover her face, squinting from under the brim of her travelling hat, which she was very grateful she’d thought to wear. In the afternoon, she stopped for some rest, nervous though it made her; what if, when she set out again, the nebulous feeling guiding her was gone, and she was simply lost in this vast expanse of nothingness? But… she needed sleep.
Curled in the shade of a craggy outcropping of rock, Glinda gazed half-lidded at the horizon as she drifted off. Her dreams were of Elphaba, as always, but also… Fiyero. At least, she thought it was Fiyero. He looked… odd. Almost inhuman. But he and Elphaba were together, talking and laughing and happy. Glinda woke with a bittersweet ache in her chest. Her two dearest people, both lost to her. She hoped that if there was another life, they had indeed found each other. They deserved that.
As she continued on her journey, she pondered the strangely altered appearance of Fiyero in her dream. She just couldn’t work it out. Yet… the way he moved, that curious lilting gait… she’d seen that somewhere, hadn’t she? Sometime in those terrible days leading up to… well. The terrible day.
It came to her as the sun was setting: one of the companions of that Dorothy child, when she’d arrived at Emerald City. Not the tin man who had looked at her so strangely, although there’d been something eerily familiar about him, too. Not the lion, either. It was the scarecrow. Glinda hadn’t met him or heard him speak, hadn’t even seen his face properly, but the way he walked… it was like the Fiyero in her dream.
She shook her head, perplexed, tired despite the sleep. She flew on through the night, and when the sun rose again, she struggled to sit up and train her aching eyes on the horizon once more.
It felt like it could have been minutes or hours later when, quite suddenly, a speck appeared on that horizon.
Instantly, Glinda was on high alert. She’d begun to fear that there truly was nothing out here in the endless dunes. But there it was, a blot of something, growing slowly but steadily larger as she soared towards it. She narrowed her eyes, pushing stray wisps of hair out of her vision, straining to make out a colour-
“Oh,” she breathed, a smile breaking across her face. Green. Her favourite colour. Especially welcome after so many hours of nothing but drab, dull sand. She was positively vibrating with excitement as she approached what was looking more and more like a desert oasis, so it took her a minute to register that the Grimmerie actually was vibrating, humming in her lap, warm under her fingertips. “Is this it? Are we here?”
She clambered to her feet, pulling off her hat and peering down below at the surprisingly large sprawl of trees and shrubbery spilling out from a rocky split in an outcrop. It was like a wound in the desert was bleeding green, a secret heart of dark blue water shimmering at the centre. Glinda squeezed the book in her arms tighter, swallowing, thinking of her own long-masked heart sluggishly bleeding her grief and loneliness. She wondered, suddenly, what she could possibly find here that would make anything better-
“Elphaba!”
She froze as the faint call carried up to her from below. The name made her breath stall painfully in her chest, but it wasn’t just the name. That voice.
“Elphaba, come quick!”
Glinda searched frantically for the source of the voice- there, amongst the trees on the water’s edge, a figure, and it was, she could tell despite the distance, it was- it was-
“Fiyero!” she called, jabbing excitedly at the bubble to pop it, steering downwards. “Fiyero, you’re- how, you- it’s me, it’s me-”
The bubble skimmed over the surface of the water and she could see him now, his strangely textured skin and the shock of straw that had replaced his hair, the odd way he moved as he clambered over rocks to greet her, his wide eyes the only thing unchanged. Her dream. He was the Fiyero from her dream, and she understood now: he had been the scarecrow with Dorothy. It was baffling, but she couldn’t care, not when he was in front of her, not alive but not dead. The bubble came to a halt beside the rocks and she threw herself into his arms, sobbing.
“Fiyero, oh, Fiyero,” she gasped against his shoulder. He was solid, but he was not of flesh and bone. He rustled as she wrapped her arms around his middle, and the give of him under her touch was nothing like skin and muscle. He wasn’t warm and he wasn’t cold. It was so alien. Yet… it felt familiar, the way he hugged her, his shaky voice muffled by her hair.
“Glinda?” he whispered. She pulled back and looked up at him, vision swimming with tears. “How did you find us?”
“Us?” Glinda repeated in confusion, before her mind caught up. He had cried out, when he’d seen the bubble in the sky. He’d cried out to- to-
“Elphaba,” she breathed, feeling faint, and it was at that moment that a figure burst from the trees fifteen feet away, panting.
“Fiyero?” Elphaba called, pushing her braids out of her face. “What were you…”
She trailed off, her mouth dropping open as her eyes landed on Glinda, who was at this point being held up by Fiyero’s hold on her. She swayed, breath shuddering in her chest.
“It’s you,” Elphaba exhaled, taking a step forward, and Glinda gave a sob and began to stumble over the rocks, tripping, grazing her hands as she clambered and caught herself, staggering. Elphaba rushed to meet her, catching her by the elbows, her grip strong and sure and warm and everything. Glinda landed against her, burying her face in the other woman’s neck, crying like a child, shock and relief making her head swim.
“Elphie,” she was mumbling wetly, clutching too tight, the once-empty well inside her chest overflowing. “Elphie, Elphie, Elphie-”
“Glinda,” Elphaba murmured, gathering her close, stroking her hair and hushing her, her voice thick with tears. “Ssshh, my sweet. It’s alright.”
Glinda choked out an undignified sound, pulling back and dragging her sleeve across her face, feeling like an absolute mess but completely uncaring, for once. She gave Elphaba a tremulous, watery smile at the pet name; she used to call her that when they still lived together, in private, when they shared a bed sometimes and whispered secrets in the dark and fell asleep curled around each other. “You haven’t called me that in… oh, so very long.”
Elphaba was peering at her, eyes huge, hands still lingering on Glinda’s arms. She swallowed, glancing away. “Ah. I wasn’t sure if you’d still want me to. It just slipped out-”
“No, Elphie,” Glinda laughed, sniffling and shaking her head, “I missed it. I missed you. Oh, Oz, it’s been- these last few weeks, I…”
She trailed off, frowning as she looked between Elphaba and Fiyero, who had drifted closer and was watching them with a soft expression. “Wait. You’re not dead. But… you let me think… why? Why didn’t you tell me?”
She stepped back sharply from Elphaba as she spoke, hurt lancing through the bubble of joy surrounding her. Elphaba’s brows drew together in distress, reaching out imploringly.
“It was safer for everyone-”
“I grieved you! Both of you!”
“Glinda,” Fiyero said, touching her arm, “we’re sorry. We thought you’d… be better off.”
“Better off?” Glinda repeated incredulously. “Without the only people I truly love? You thought that would be better for me? You’re insane, both of you!”
Fiyero raised his eyebrows. “My darling, I left you, and then held you at gunpoint! I honestly thought you must hate me. You should.”
Glinda huffed, shaking back her hair. “It was a complicated situation! Besides, it’s good we didn’t go through with the wedding. You’d hate being dragged along to endless functions and having to sit through all the political talk. And…”
Her gaze drifted back to Elphaba, who was watching her with a tremulous expression. Glinda smiled and caught hold of her hand, squeezing, trying to banish any sadness from her expression as she nodded firmly. “You two deserve to be together.”
Elphaba blew out a breath, looking away and shaking her head with a half-sobbing laugh. “You really are Glinda the Good, huh? How can you be so…”
Glinda swallowed as her hand was brought up to Elphaba’s lips, a fervent kiss pressed to her knuckles under teardrop-heavy lashes. She stepped closer without meaning to, drawn in as always. She never used to know what this feeling was; she was finding that knowing made it no easier. It unravelled her just the same.
“Elphie,” she whispered helplessly. “I really thought I lost you.”
Elphaba reached up and cupped her face, thumb stroking a stray tear from her cheek. “I’m sorry. Truly. But… you found us again. How?”
Glinda blinked, then blinked again, excitement overtaking her. “The Grimmerie! It… I don’t know, it’s like it spoke to me, Elphie-”
She was tugging Elphaba along by the hand as she spoke, leading the way back to the bubble floating by the rocks. Scooping the book up, she laid it open on a flat-topped boulder and began to search through the pages, muttering to herself.
“You learned to read it?” Elphaba asked in an awed voice from behind her. Glinda flapped a hand, hushing her, then made a triumphant noise as she found one of the pages.
“Here! This was part of it, at least. The words just… came to me, like my own thoughts. And then… I knew where to go.”
Elphaba knelt beside her, Fiyero awkwardly flopping down on her other side to peer down at the book in interest, and Glinda glanced between them with so much fondness in her chest she feared she might burst. Elphaba’s brow was furrowed in thought, one long and elegant fingernail tracing the lines and characters.
“Can you decipher it?” Glinda asked eagerly. “You studied it for years, I’ve only had a month or so. I have no idea what it means.”
Elphaba continued to examine the page for a few seconds longer before she abruptly went still, eyes fixed on the words. She swallowed, lips pressed together, then shrugged with her gaze still downcast. “I… can’t be sure.”
Glinda narrowed her eyes, exchanging a suspicious glance with Fiyero. “Elphaba Thropp, you are lying right now!”
Elphaba shot her a scowl. “What makes you so sure?”
“No, she’s right,” Fiyero said, amusement clear in his voice. “You are lying, my love. So, go on and tell us: what’s the spell?”
“I… it…” Elphaba looked between Glinda and Fiyero, expression uncomfortable, then sighed and looked away. “It… leads you to your heart’s desire. So… Glinda was led here. To…”
Glinda’s eyes widened. “Oh.”
“Yes,” sighed Elphaba, pushing to her feet, tugging at her tattered skirts in agitation. She still wasn’t looking at either of them. “To Fiyero.”
Glinda was scrambling to her feet too, heart thudding anxiously. “Elphie, I- wait. What?”
“You still love him,” Elphaba continued, looking increasingly distressed, “and I- I’m so sorry, Glinda, I never meant to hurt you, I never meant to- to ruin things for you-”
“Oh, Oz,” Glinda cried, exasperated, “haven’t I already said it? I’m glad I didn’t marry Fiyero, for both our sakes. It was never him I-”
She cut herself off, clenching her fists and looking away. There was a beat of tense silence before Fiyero unfolded upright, glancing between them.
“Right,” he said carefully, “well, it seems you two have much to discuss. I’m, uh, going to go and…”
He trailed off as he backed away; Glinda caught his eye and was confused to receive an exaggerated, wide-eyed stare as he jerked his head towards Elphaba.
Tell her, he mouthed, before turning and loping off into the trees. Glinda blinked, then jumped as Elphaba stepped up to her, tilting her head to capture her gaze.
“Glinda?”
With a groan, Glinda dropped her face into her hands, feeling thoroughly cornered. “This is so… of course that was the spell! Well, that’s just perfect, ugh…”
Gentle hands pried her wrists apart. Elphaba peered at her between them, her dear face open and tender and so full of care that Glinda’s defences melted away. She sighed, slumping.
“Oh, Elphie, don’t you see?” she murmured with a tired smile. “You’re my heart’s desire. You always have been.”
Elphaba’s eyes went huge, her lips parting. “What?”
Glinda scoffed at her. “For a magical genius prodigy, you’re really not that bright sometimes, you know that?”
“But…” Elphaba shook her head, looking dazed, grip tightening on Glinda’s wrists between them. “But you didn’t come with me when I asked. You had to know, didn’t you? What I was really asking, back then. And you- you said no, you-”
“I didn’t know,” Glinda cut in, throat thick, “and I was a coward, anyway. Do you know how many times I’ve wished I’d said yes? Imagined how it could have been?”
“But…”
Glinda tugged her wrists free, taking Elphaba’s hands instead, squeezing them. “I know, Elphie, you don’t have to say it. You’re with Fiyero now. I don’t mind, really, I’m happy for you. I know I realised too late, and it’s alright, truly, because our friendship is-”
She was interrupted, quite suddenly, by the warm press of lips on hers. Her breath seized in her throat, shock pulsing through her as Elphaba cupped her face, kissing her firmly, urgently. After a moment, she made a muffled, whimpering sort of sound, clutching at the other woman, lips parting and eyes fluttering shut. When Elphaba broke away, she didn’t go far, brushing their noses together and pulling back just enough to meet Glinda’s gaze with a grin, eyes sparkling.
“Our friendship,” she murmured, pushing Glinda’s hair behind her ear with a slow, tender touch, “could have used a lot more of that right from the start. I guess neither of us are that bright, as it turns out.”
Glinda leaned her face into Elphaba’s palm, a disbelieving smile overtaking her. “You… but… F-Fiyero?”
Elphaba hesitated, brow furrowing, opening her mouth to speak. Before she could, however, they both jumped as a voice called out from nearby: “Oh, Fiyero saw this coming years back!”
They both turned to see him leaning against a tree, arms folded haphazardly, a slightly smug smile on his burlap face. He shrugged at their matching incredulous expressions.
“Turns out… I’m the smart one.”