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They wouldn’t let her see him.
He’d been locked up in the palace dungeon for days, and no matter how much she begged, bargained, or cried, they wouldn’t let her see him.
Glinda could only imagine what they were doing to him in there. She had a lot of pull in Emerald City, but she wasn’t allowed past the towering doors of the dungeon. She had tried of course, using her flirtatious charms to sway the guards posted outside. When that hadn’t worked, she’d tried simply asking pretty please. Once she even tried distracting them and making a break for it. That last time had ended up with her being escorted back to her chambers with the door locked from the outside for the rest of the day.
Like a child. Or like a prisoner in a spacious, pink, luxurious cell.
It was for her own safety and wellbeing, the guards told her. Orders from Madame Morrible, they said next. How she had grown to loathe the very sound of that woman’s name.
The point was, Fiyero was locked up. Her fiancé (or was it ex-fiancé, now? It hardly seemed to matter anymore.) was locked up in a dark, dirty cell in the palace after being deemed a traitor to Oz. For the crime of treason and an attempt on her own life, he was being interrogated on the whereabouts of the Wicked Witch of the West.
Well, interrogating was putting it lightly. She knew that for sure. While she hadn’t made it very far past the guards outside the dungeon, she was able to get a head start. It was by merely a few clock ticks — barely enough time to see her surroundings let alone find which cell they were keeping him in. But it had been enough to know. Enough to hear, and enough to have the memory of what she heard haunt her dreams for nights to come.
Screaming.
Fiyero’s voice, cracking and breaking in anguish from whatever it was they were doing to him in there. His voice echoed through the hall of cells, bounced off the green stone so sharp and clear that it didn’t matter where they were keeping him. He was everywhere. The sound of his suffering had paralyzed her in her tracks. Even after the guards caught up to her and one threw her over his shoulder, the sound kept ringing around in her brain. Echoing in her mind as it had in the dungeon, as if there was nothing in that space between her ears other than Fiyero, Fiyero, Fiyero.
It kept her up at night. She was afraid to go to sleep, because when she did all she dreamt about was him. The mind was a powerful thing. The images it conjured up in her sleep as it tried to make sense of what could possibly make Fiyero — one of the strongest, toughest, most stubborn people she had ever known — scream like that…
Her sleep deprivation began to impact her daily life. Her skin was dull, her shoulders were tense, she was easily spooked. Her image was at risk, and that just wouldn’t do. The Wizard’s personal physician prescribified a tonic to help her sleep dream-free. As tempting as it was to get a respite from the ailment of her guilt, she refused to take it. She didn’t deserve to have a break when the same wasn’t being given to Fiyero, night after night, nor Elphaba, who was still in exile. So Glinda left the bottle of tonic unopened by her bedside while she paced her room all night until there were sores on her feet.
When Madame Morrible found out about this, she started to personally oversee that Glinda drank the tonic before bed. It wouldn’t do to have her shining star hurting herself in the wake of her grief over her ex-fiancé’s betrayal. That was the story they were feeding everyone to explain away Glinda’s sudden disappearance from public life. Every night Morrible stared down her nose at Glinda, silent, her manicured fingers clasped in front of her like a disapproving nanny. And Glinda would drink it, eyes squeezed shut to avoid staring back at Morrible as the purple sludge burned its way down her throat. It tasted of fury, of bitterness, you Wicked Witch, you won’t get away with this, Elphie won’t let you, I won’t let you—
The tonic made her drowsy, but it took about an hour to put her out. In the meantime Glinda kept up her pacing. It was during an hour such as this that her mind went round and round in circles. Poking holes in every plan she had to break out Fiyero, snapping at all her excuses as she tried to reason with herself that she hadn’t meant for any of this to happen. Of course she hadn’t meant for any of this to happen, but she had let it happen anyway, hadn’t she? Everything she closed her eyes to: every Animal imprisoned, every Munchkin uprising squashed, every family torn apart and life ruined while she looked the other way.
And for what? For this fancy room in the Wizard’s palace, full of her fancy gowns and flying bubble machine, and the posters all around the city plastered with her face? Had she thought that playing the part would keep her and her loved ones safe, exempt from all the cruelty of Morrible’s insatiable quest for power? Was she really that naive?
Yes, the voice that sounded just a bit too much like Elphaba supplied. You are.
Well not anymore, she thought back at that voice. She was going to do something about all this. She was going to get Fiyero out of there, and right her wrongs. A wave of dizziness washed over her in a purple mist, putting a stop to any further plotting for the night. Her eyelids drooped and she lay down atop her bedsheets with one final thought on her mind before that mist took over her completely.
If only Elphaba were here…
➹➹➹
So she began her plotting. She stayed on her best behavior and grit her teeth against the urge to turn down the wing of the palace that held the dungeon. It would do no one any good to get locked in her room again. She drank her tonic in front of Madame Morrible every night, and let the sores on her feet heal. She even made her appearances before the citizens of Emerald City as scheduled, and every night before she fell asleep she prayed to whatever Goodness might be listening that Fiyero held on for another day.
They would tell her if he’d been executed already, wouldn’t they? Even if not, surely Glinda would be able to tell. They were connected one way or another, even if they weren’t in love. Fiyero had to be alive, or else all this she was putting up with would be for nothing.
Glinda had nearly forgotten all about Dorothy by the time she and her ragtag team of friends showed up to the gates of Oz. Now she watched from her balcony as the mob chanted their misled truths about Elphaba, observing with growing concern the odd bunch at the center of it. Dorothy, her dress dirty and braids coming undone after over a week of walking. A trembling Lion that couldn’t even look up from his paws to address the crowd. And a vengeful sounding Tin Man. They were off to melt the Wicked Witch of the West, like that was a thing. As if he sensed her doubts, the Tin Man looked up at her, his glare burning with accusations that he couldn’t even possibly begin to know. Glinda held his gaze only because she knew from way up here he wouldn’t be able to see her sweat. He broke eye contact right as the giant clock at the center of the city chimed, booming like a threat.
It was time. She looked back at the door to her room and waited for Madame Morrible to let herself in to witness Glinda’s nightly dose of tonic. When the sound of the mob became too much she went inside to continue waiting. But Morrible did not come.
The door remained shut, and her tonic sat unopened on her bedside upstairs. The beginnings of a real plan took form in her mind. This was her chance! She rushed to her closet, pushing through the rows of tulle and lace to the very back. She stopped, she smiled. There they were, worn and familiar after all these years.
Elphaba’s boots.
If Morrible did come to see her off tonight, she would already be long gone.
➹➹➹
Kiamo Ko was far, but Feldspur was fast. Plus he knew exactly where all the shortcuts were. She fetched him from the stables and whispered to him, “I need your help. We have to save Fiyero.”
Then they were off.
The flying monkeys circling the trees were a sign that they were close. They must have seen her, but they didn’t descend upon her or try to stop her from approaching the great castle.
Red lightning lit up the midnight clouds, casting a bloody glow over all the stone architecture. Feldspar dug his hooves into the soil and even though he hadn’t spoken to her in a long time, his sentiment was clear. She was on her own from here. She pushed back the hood of her cloak to better see her surroundings. The palace was grand, dilapidated, and intimidating. It crackled with the life of something otherworldly, something magical. Vines and shrubbery that looked dead or dying crawled along the cracked steps. Everything about the place was a great, big warning sign to KEEP OUT.
She pushed on.
As she ascended the stairs, up, up, winding until she grew dizzy, she heard a voice she knew better than her own. Screaming something cruel and merciless, carrying over the sound of a young girl’s sobs. “...Get those shoes off your feet!”
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please—”
Elphaba slammed shut the door of a cellar, muffling Dorothy’s begging. Then she turned and saw Glinda. She didn’t seem surprised to see her standing there.
“Go away.”
“Elphie, listen to me, I need your help—”
“I haven’t got a helpful bone left in my body.”
With an air of effortlessness that Glinda taught her way back when, Elphaba brushed her off and stared out into the distance of the dark forest. More red lightning, followed by shaking thunder. If things hadn’t been so dire, she might have marveled at the sight.
Glinda said, “That’s not true. I know you, you can’t keep going on like this.”
Elphaba turned a reproachful eye onto her. “Haven’t you heard?” She asked bitterly. Exhausted. “I’m the Wicked Witch of the West.”
Glinda could have just about burst into tears right there. But there were more important things that needed doing. More important people than her that needed saving. So she blinked back her emotions, put her pride aside, and said, “Fiyero is alive.”
Lightning struck so close it raised the hairs on her arms. It cast Elphaba in a silhouette of scarlet for a clock tick, haunting and beautiful all at once. When Glinda could see her clearly again, she saw what Elphaba had been trying so long to hide. A raw vulnerability that had been taken advantage of time and time again. Trust.
“Don’t lie to me.” It wasn’t a command. It was a plea.
“I would never lie to you, you know that. This is too important.” Glinda closed the distance between them and grabbed Elphaba’s hands. They shook in her own. They were calloused, warm, and familiar. “I need you. Fiyero needs you.”
As she spoke, Elphaba shook her head. The wide brim of her hat covered her eyes when she looked down, but tears thickened her voice. “I’m limited. Everything I’ve tried to make good just comes crashing down.”
Glinda squeezed her hands, then used one to lift Elphaba’s chin and make eye contact. She whispered, “We can save him together.”
A tremulous sound escaped Elphaba’s mouth. “I tried to save him, but my magic can’t make it through the palace walls. Morrible has wards up. I thought he was dead and–and you hated me, and I thought you’d never forgive me. I thought…” Her words broke up into sobs so heartbroken, so guilty, they brought Glinda’s own tears to the surface.
She wondered again how anyone could think someone so pure and selfless could be so wicked, but that was a dilemma for another day. She took a steadying breath, blinking through the blurriness in her vision. “None of that matters anymore. We don’t have much time. Elphie, they’re coming for you. We need a plan.”
Elphaba glanced at the cellar where Dorothy’s cries had since gone quiet, probably from exhaustion. Her tortured expression cleared some as an idea came to her. “I know what I need to do,” Elphaba said.
She pulled away from Glinda and went to the cellar.
“What is it?”
Elphaba looked at her with such strength and resolve that it rivaled the weather above and challenged the everlasting stone beneath their feet. “I’m going to surrender.”
Then she yanked the cellar open.
➹➹➹
The plan was straightforward. Dorothy would bring Elphaba’s broom to the Wizard as promised. While he was distracted, Glinda and Elphaba would sneak off to the dungeon, release Fiyero, and get the hell out of dodge. Dorothy would get to go home, Fiyero would be safe, everything would work out.
It was easier said than done.
Getting Dorothy on their side was simpler than expected. Even after all the strife she had gone through on the yellow brick road, all the terror Elphaba had instilled in her, all it took was the two of them explaining that the Wizard was nothing more than Morrible’s puppet to get through to her.
Glinda had said, “Dorothy, do you know where Oh-mah-hah is? That’s where the Wizard is from.”
Dorothy’s lips had pursed in that young teen girl way when she realized she’d been played for a fool. “My Uncle Henry always told me not to trust salesmen. Especially ones from Nebraska.”
Getting her friends to join forces with them took a bit more convincing.
The Tin Man and Lion charged their way into Kiamo Ko with an attack first ask questions later mentality. They burst in, saw Dorothy standing close to Elphaba, and Tin Man launched his axe like a boomerang. It would have gone clean through Elphaba’s skull if her instinctual magic hadn’t stopped it midair, inches from her face.
Then Dorothy tackled the Lion, paying no mind to his awfully sharp teeth and rumbling growl as she wrapped him up in a full body hug. He relented immediately. “You’re just a big old housecat,” she told him, her face half buried in his mane. “Thank you for coming to rescue me, Brrr.”
Dorothy’s little dog (whom Glinda had determined was definitely not a Dog) yipped furiously and nudged his head into the Lion’s side. Dorothy sat up and bundled him up into her arms. “Oh, Toto, I missed you so much.”
The three of them, Dorothy, Elphaba, and Glinda, explained it all — the plan, Fiyero’s capture, Madame Morrible and the Wizard’s lies.
“Why should we trust you?” Tin Man asked. Elphaba sent his axe careening back at him and he caught it, metal on metal clashing with a screeEEEECH and causing sparks to fly. He glared at her something fierce.
“I’m sorry, Boq.”
“Don’t call me that,” Tin Man hissed back, but a vulnerability peaked through his mask of hatred. It was the wounded look in his eyes that allowed Glinda to truly recognize him.
“There was nothing I could do to undo what Nes–” at Tin Man’s flinch, Elphaba corrected herself, “what my sister did to you. The Grimmerie has a mind of its own, I just have to trust it. If it did this to save your life, then that’s because it was the only way. Still, I’m sorry.”
There was a whole lot of hurt and history there, but no time to unpack it all. When Tin Man still didn’t speak, Dorothy gently grabbed his free hand at his side. He looked down at her with a softness he spared no one else. Steam rose from the grate on the left side of his chest.
“Fine, we’ll do it.” Brrr let out a tiny, unsure whimper, but didn’t protest. Tin Man looked back at Glinda and Elphaba. “But not because you two asked.” Tin Man might have been what was left of Boq, but he was something completely new on his own, too. Glinda could see it in the way he held himself, unafraid to take up space. She saw it in the way he stared at her with a hardened recognition that was not at all like the besotted boy from their school days. “Because Dorothy did. And for Fiyero.”
In Dorothy’s arms Toto barked sharply, as if in agreement.
That was perfectly fine with them. Glinda grabbed Elphaba’s hand and interlocked their fingers. One of them was trembling, she couldn’t tell who. Maybe both of them.
“For Fiyero,” Glinda said, and her voice didn’t shake one bit.
➹➹➹
The only one of them still on the fence about everything was the Lion. So before they all parted ways, Elphaba crouched down to Brrr’s eye level. He couldn’t quite meet her eyes, but didn’t resist when she scratched her long nails behind his ears.
“I understand that you blame me for being alone all these years.”
“Oh, Miss Elphaba, you know I– well I just don’t know who to blame,” Brrr responded. “You were just trying to help me out, but now I’m too scared to do anything on my own…”
“That’s not what I see. I see a strong Lion who trekked countless miles for what he believed in. One who faced his greatest fears to protect his friends.” Brrr sniffled a little as she continued, “I should have checked on you to make sure you were getting along alright. But I was young then, too, and naive. I’m sorry for that.”
Brrr wrapped his tail around one paw anxiously and shook his head. “It’s all water under the bridge now. It’s just… when we get to the Emerald City, what do you want me to do?”
“Do what you have to do.” Elphaba smiled at him softly. “You’re tougher than you know.”
The Flying Monkeys carried Dorothy and her friends halfway to cut down on travel time. Tin Man protested at first, but all it took for him to give in was Dorothy complaining a little about how awfully uncomfortable her jeweled shoes were to walk in. He seemed to have a real tenderness for the girl, heartless as he said he was.
Elphaba and Glinda were close behind them on the back of Feldspur. They didn’t speak much on the way. Elphaba held the reins while Glinda sat behind her, arms wrapped around Elphaba’s waist with her face buried into her neck. She took in the feeling of Elphaba’s pulse against her cheek, the sound of her breaths. They came out sharp and focused as she steered. An almost imperceptible buzzing sat close to her skin, that telltale sign of magic just aching to be released. It was intoxicating, enthralling to be around, and it’s no wonder Fiyero ran off with her. Glinda didn’t have anything like that.
From the blonde tips of her hair to the pink polish on her toes, she was as powerless as anyone else. She didn’t have an ounce of that buzzing magic that just oozed off Elphaba. Still, was it so unbelievable that Fiyero had loved her once? Were all the tender caresses, all the nights spent curled up together in bed, all the whispered sweet nothings just that — nothing? Glinda shook her head against Elphaba’s neck to rid herself of her doubts. That should have been the last of her worries right now.
Since Elphaba always seemed to know everything going on in Glinda’s mind at any given moment, she called over Feldspur’s hoofbeats, “His feelings for you were real. Don’t sell yourself short!”
“It’s not important now!” Glinda said, shouting to be heard over the wind.
“Yes it is! When we escaped one of the first things he told me was that he regretted not taking you with us!” Elphaba hadn’t turned back to face her, but Glinda didn’t need to see her to know she was telling the truth.
Why hadn’t she just gone with them? Could all of this have been avoided if she put her insecurities aside and followed Elphaba for once, instead of chasing her after the fact? She didn’t say anything in response and Elphaba didn’t push. Only one thought played on a loop in her mind as they traipsed through the poppy fields: Fiyero, forgive me.
They made it back to the Emerald City with less than two hours of moonlight to spare.
The gates were wide open. The cobblestone streets were devoid of the mob from mere hours ago. Tipped over buckets of water and abandoned torches long since extinguished were the only evidence of the frenzy that had been. It was chilling to witness.
There was not even a single member of the Gale Force stationed at the various checkpoints enforcing the usual curfew. Something felt wrong about it all as Feldspar trotted through the city undisturbed on his way back to the palace stables.
They had barely stepped foot on the palace grounds when all Hell broke loose. The alarms in the bell towers tolled, which triggered a spotlight that landed right on them. Elphaba’s pointy hat and green skin was like a homing signal drawing all the attention right to them.
“The Wicked Witch! She’s taken Glinda the Good hostage!”
Oh, Shiz. Glinda reached up and her fingers met her windswept hair. She hadn’t realized during the ride that the hood of her cloak had fallen down.
“To arms!”
Feldspur reared up on his hind legs and neighed loudly as what seemed like the entirety of the Gale Force poured out of the palace entrance and surrounded them. The points of their spears gleamed in the spotlight.
“Aim to kill, men!”
More soldiers appeared from their hiding places on the palace’s upper levels and aimed their firearms over the ledge.
The air thickened. Time seemed to slow. Elphaba tightened one hand on Feldspur’s reins, and threw out the other in a wide arc.
“Fire!” A hundred pistols went off in unison. Bullets cut through the air, moving against resistance similar to being fired underwater.
“El-phie!” Glinda shrieked, her voice coming out distorted.
Time resumed. The Gale Force went flying in one direction, and all their weapons went in the other. The bullets ricocheted off an invisible bubble surrounding the three of them. All the soldiers crashed to the ground in a heap, groaning and cursing in pain. It was the largest display of power Glinda had ever seen from Elphaba, but there was no time to gawk.
“Ya!” Elphaba commanded, and Feldspur took off down the now cleared path, undeterred by the magic.
They burst through the palace doors and headed straight for the throne room. Lingering servants in their way cried out and jumped out of their path, and any righteous ones that tried to charge them were subsequently knocked off their feet by another wave of power. They were untouchable.
“Plan B!” Elphaba called over her shoulder.
“What is that?” Glinda yelled back, clinging onto Elphaba for dear life.
“Stay alive long enough to get us all out of here!”
Oh, lovely. How very thought provokifying and not at all last minute. She was just about to say something to that respect when for the first time in what must have been years, Feldspur let out a genuine, carefree laugh.
“How I love danger!” He exclaimed.
His spontaneity triggered a high-pitched, slightly hysterical laugh from Elphaba as they made a sharp right turn. A bubble of ridiculous giddiness rose up within Glinda’s own chest, and she couldn’t fight the grin spreading across her own face.
The situation in the throne room was already falling to pieces. Dorothy, Tin Man, and Brrr were all standing back to back and were gradually being herded into a corner by some more guards. Seemed like they hadn’t taken well to the realization that the Wicked Witch was indeed still alive. Tin Man had his axe at the ready, Brrr was trying his best attempt at a menacing growl, and Toto barked and barked at Dorothy’s feet while Dorothy wielded Elphaba’s broom like a spear.
The Wizard stood there helplessly, seemingly trying and failing to keep the peace, his hands thrown out in front of him. He was shouting, “Now if we could all just lower the stabby-stabby atmosphere just a pinch—”
Right at that moment Madame Morrible materialized from behind the curtain in a gust of created wind. Her face was a storm of fury. She took one look at Glinda and Elphaba on Feldspur’s back, and seemed to draw every conclusion there could ever be.
Pointing a single, accusing finger right at Dorothy, she called, “The Wicked Witch has turned the girl against us and bewitched Glinda the Good! Kill them all!”
If Glinda thought all Hell had broken loose earlier, she was wrong. That was a mild hiccup compared to the display of chaos that followed.
The sound of running footsteps sounded from the hall as recovered members from the Gale Force outside approached. With a flick of her hand Elphaba forced the doors shut. At Morrible’s orders to kill, the guards went from corralling Dorothy’s group to full on attacking them. Tin Man let out a rageful battle cry and began swinging his axe indiscriminately.
The Wizard took that moment to retreat, beelining for the curtain, but Dorothy was hot on his tail. Literally, her jewelled shoes took on a glowing red hue as she darted toward the Wizard with inhuman speed. In a blink she caught up to him and slammed the broom in her hands down hard onto his back. He went down with a pained oof! Dorothy jabbed the broom at him and commanded, “You stay right there, you hack!”
Toto growled in his face, and the Wizard knew better than to deny when he’d been bested. “You got me,” he acquiesced.
The doors to the throne room heaved forward as guards from the outside rammed them. Sweat beaded at Elphaba’s brow. She couldn’t hold them back forever.
Wind whistled inside the throne room, and thunder clapped. Madame Morrible was creating a storm cloud in her hands, growing larger and larger as she drew her hands apart. Lightning crackled in her pupils. She turned all her focus on Dorothy.
“You wicked little girl!”
“Dorothy!” Glinda yelled in warning, but Dorothy couldn’t do more than brace herself with a single arm.
A booming roar resounded through the room. Brrr charged at Madame Morrible and reached her in two great strides. Glinda saw a glimpse of pure fear on Morrible’s face, and then Brrr was upon her with gnashing teeth and swiping claws.
The doors splintered at the hinges and were forced open. With another swipe of her hand, Elphaba yanked the cloak from Glinda’s shoulders and sent it tangling around the three Gale Force soldiers at the head of the group.
“We have to go!” Glinda shouted.
“What about everyone else?” Elphaba was distraught, eyes pinging from Dorothy and the Wizard, to Brrr and what was left of Morrible, to Tin Man. But her breaths were labored now, skin slick with sweat. Her energy was depleting.
“Go!” Tin Man yelled. He rammed right into an oncoming soldier, the force of the blow sending the man careening into the wall. “Find Fiyero!”
Glinda looked at him. The metal sheen of his body was stained red, but his eyes were clear with intent. They had this handled. She nodded at him, hoping he understood it meant more than just a thank you for this moment. It was an apology, an acknowledgment of respect, and of everything that had transpired between them over the years.
Before she got to see his response, Elphaba knocked her ankles against Feldspur’s sides and clicked her tongue. They barrelled out the doors and skidded left around a corner, and the sounds of battle faded into the distance behind them.
➹➹➹
For once, the dungeon was unguarded. It was both unsurprising and also a relief that it was apparently all hands on deck upstairs. There was no telling what was going to happen after all of tonight’s bloodshed, but one step at a time.
Feldspur took up watch outside the doors to the dungeon as Glinda and Elphaba made their way inside. They walked hand in hand, squinting into the darkness. It was horribly cliche with its chilly atmosphere and suspicious dripping sounds coming from somewhere deeper into the hall.
“I can’t see a thing,” Glinda whispered, even though they were the only two people around.
On a whim, the torches along the walls lit up with green fire. She looked at Elphaba with wide eyes, and she looked back at her with a little smirk on her face.
“You were just waiting for me to say something.”
With a single shoulder shrug, Elphaba replied, “Maybe I wanted to impress you.”
“Don’t push yourself.” Glinda nudged Elphaba playfully then sobered up. She looked down the rows of cells on either side of the hall. They were all identical, all shut tight, no markers indicating which ones were vacant or occupied. Were any of them occupied besides Fiyero’s? It was eerily silent besides the dripping sound and their own breathing. No screams or pleas or cries from other potential prisoners. “How will we know which one he’s in?”
Elphaba pulled her hand from Glinda and stopped walking. She kneeled onto the stone floor and put a hand on the ground to steady herself. Her exhaustion was obvious as she unlatched the Grimmerie from its holster across her body. It practically leapt from her hands onto the ground before her. It opened, its spontaneously flipping pages glowing golden with a palpable, ancient magic. This magic felt different from Elphaba’s. While hers was inviting, warm, and strong, the Grimmerie had an old, foreboding sense to it. Mischievous with a hint of something sinister. Glinda didn’t like it much at all.
But it seemed to reenergize Elphaba. She stayed silent as Elphaba took a reviving breath and started chanting in a language no one else spoke, as if it was her native tongue. Glinda’s heart raced as the Grimmerie’s pages started to curl and turn black, as if the spell was being burned out of the book. Elphaba clapped her hands once, and at the same moment the Grimmerie slammed shut. The torches were all snuffed out, sending them back into darkness. Glinda squeaked in fear and clutched Elphaba’s arm.
After a beat, Elphaba whispered, “Do you see that?”
“See what?” But as soon as she asked, she caught on.
It was subtle, but growing stronger. A spectral trail of red, like blood but not quite as tangible, pooled in a trail right to a cell in the middle of the row on the right. The red reached up and ringed the doorframe like a great big X marking the spot on a treasure map.
The cell was locked, but that barely deterred them as Elphaba grabbed the doorknob and warped it under her hand like it was putty. The door swung open, and they stepped into the cramped space. Darkness seemed to swallow up everything inside, just a canvas of inky black, so dark it froze Glinda’s breath in her chest. Then Elphaba lit a torch on the wall with that same green fire, and Glinda’s knees nearly buckled.
“Fiyero!”
There he was, slumped over on a pile of straw against the far wall. His skin was gaunt and nearly yellow in the light, his hair flat against his head from sweat. He was filthy, bare feet caked with dirt and he wore just his tattered undershirt and uniform trousers. She thought he might have been unconscious from how slow his chest rose and fell, but then he blinked open two bruised eyes, and croaked through dry, cracked lips, “G…Glinda?”
The two of them ran over to him and collapsed on either side. Glinda didn’t even care if she soiled her gown, she just scooted as close to Fiyero as she could get and cupped his face in her hands. He’d lost weight since the last time she saw him, his cheeks sunken and his chin sharper than usual. He sank into her touch before he realized they weren’t alone. When his eyes landed on Elphaba, he let out a gusty sigh of relief.
“Elphaba…” his voice trailed off into a groan as he tried to shift towards her and his whole body locked up in pain. One of his legs was folded under him while the other lay straight out, and one glance at it showed why.
His right knee stuck out at an odd angle beneath his trousers. As her eyes roved over his entire body, more and more injuries came to light. Blood crusted over several of his fingers where the fingernails were missing. His face and throat was a painting of faded and fresh bruises. The back of his shirt was shredded, revealing countless, thin lacerations that crisscrossed over the skin of his back.
Glinda took stock of all the injuries and couldn’t hold it in anymore. A heartbroken sob wrenched itself from her mouth, and then they kept coming, tumbling from her lips so forcefully her entire body shook with them.
“Oh, Fiyero, what have they done to you?” She wanted to pull him in close, hug him tight to herself to make sure he was really there with her. But she didn’t know how much more damage there was that wasn’t visible to the naked eye. She didn’t want to make his pain worse.
He reached up a trembling hand and caressed her cheek. Even now, when he had suffered so much, he was comforting her. Glinda hated it and adored it at the same time. Hated that she couldn’t control herself, that she was making it all about her again; loved that he was always so protective of her, didn’t blame her for what had been done to him. She was doing enough of that for the both of them.
“We should have come sooner,” Elphaba said, hands out in front of her like she didn’t know where to place them.
Fiyero pulled away from Glinda’s hold to look over at her. Even though he had two black eyes, his gaze was still tender and full of love. He looked at her like she held the moon in her palm, and knowing her power, Glinda didn’t doubt that she could. He gently took hold of her hands.
“You’re here now,” Fiyero said. His voice was hoarse, but steady. “I’ll be good as new in no time.”
He leaned forward, and Elphaba did too, and they met in the middle. When they kissed it was tender and sweet, sad and longing. Even though Fiyero’s brow was screwed up in pain he sighed into it, and Elphaba just about melted at the sound.
Just two weeks ago the thought of the two of them kissing had struck Glinda with unmentionable jealousy and heartbreak. Not anymore. She watched the display with a teary grin, knowing this was meant to be. They deserved each other.
When they finally broke apart, Elphaba said, “We’re getting you out of here. We’re taking you home.”
Fiyero faced Glinda and reached out for her again. His eyes shone with a question, an unspoken hope.
“You don’t think I’d let you leave me behind again, do you?” Glinda teased. When Fiyero’s startled laugh cut off with another groan, she winced. “Sorry.”
Elphaba muttered something under her breath. Her eyes glowed golden and she lifted Fiyero up bridal style, like he weighed nothing. It seemed like a common trick with how fluid the maneuver was, and Glinda thought bizarrely as she led the way out of the dungeon that she might like to experience it for herself. She stuck her head out the doorway, and when she saw no one other than Feldspur, continued forward.
“Is he alright?” Feldspur asked Elphaba quietly as she got Fiyero settled on the saddle.
Fiyero patted Feldpsur’s neck. He reassured the Horse, “I will be, old friend.”
Elphaba got on Feldspur’s back behind Fiyero with Glinda taking up the rear, and the four of them hightailed it out of the palace. No one stopped them on their way, not that they would have been able to even if they tried. As the group left Emerald City in the dust, the beginnings of dawn peaked over the horizon. Fiery orange and fuchsia swirled around in the sky, and Glinda knew it wasn’t over. This was a false ending before the real challenge began, but right now none of that mattered.
They were going home. Where that was exactly, she wasn’t sure. What she did know though, was that she had Elphaba and Fiyero, and they had her in kind.
That was all that she could ever ask for.