Chapter Text
Glinda barely made it out of her bubble and into her bedroom in the Royal Palace before she slumped to the floor. Muffled sobs and all. She knew she didn’t have much time to let this happen before her handmaidens or someone else would come looking for her. Someone was always coming looking for her. But it was never Elphaba.
Year after year of burning effigies of her best friend and lover re-opened wounds that Glinda never got to heal in the first place. The fact it was her fault Elpahaba was gone. How everything had fallen into place after her death; the Wizard was gone, Madam Morrible locked away somewhere- Glinda didn’t care for where, she hated the way Madam Morrible had made her feel less than. Like she was worth nothing. She was used to being everything back then and it left a bad taste in her mouth. How the atmokinetic had seen all the good Elphaba was and continued to destroy everything she’d worked for, everything she was until she’d given up.
Not that Glinda hadn’t done the exact same thing. It was all this that made it so much more shameful when she realised she loved Elphaba. Sweet Elphie and all her quirks. How could she not love her passion, self-assuredness (even if it was a facade), braverism- it was all the things she wished she was and all the things Glinda the Good could be. It was Elphie who first believed Glinda could be magical. That’s why she gave her the grimmerie right? No one else did. Not Momsie or-
A sob slipped from Glinda’s lips as she looked at the grimmerie where it’d sat on an old wooden desk in the corner of her huge suite for months. Just looking at it hurt. Everything hurt but she was doing this for Elphie. Her palms dug into her face over her eyes, face flushed and tear strewn. No matter how much it would hurt, she would perserve and continue because she deserved this. Glinda hadn’t escaped being the girl in a bubble; she’d just changed bubbles. And now instead of naiveity it was despair.
In fact, Glinda was so busy with her self-abasement she hadn’t noticed that the grimmerie’s pages had started turning by themselves.
Jolting up and tripping over the expensive dress she always specfically wore for these occasions, with hints of green, Glinda stumbled towards the table, hitting her head on the table and the table hitting the wall with a loud knock.
‘Oz dammit...’ Glinda hissed more tiredly than upset, one hand clutching her head while the other was on the grimmerie. Eyes stung and strained, trying to read what was left of Elphie’s heart that she still had apart from the hat.
“Time returnify spell?” Glinda mumured as the door swung open and Ambroise came running in. She slammed the grimmerie shut on impulse.
Truth be told she was Glinda’s least favourite handmaiden. Too excitable, active, youthful, and naive. She believed Glinda was good just like Glinda had believed the Wizard was good. Glinda couldn’t stand having a constant reminder of Galinda around, but she couldn’t bring herself to be rude to the poor Winkie girl.
“My goodness, all are you alright? I heard a loud bang and I thought-
“Yes, Ambroisia- Ambroise dear, I’m quite alright. I merely...bumped into the table.”
Glinda removed her hand from her forehead, where no doubt a red bump would have formed that Ambroise and the other handmaidens would fuss over and would have to be cleaned, compressed and moisturised and hidden under layers of makeup as she needed to be Oz’s divining light.
“Your goodness, your forehead...”
Elphie would have laughed at the title.
“It’s nothing I can’t handle by myself.”
Glinda sighed; her face probably looked haggard, and by now the handmaidens knew when to leave their benevolent ruler alone.
“As you wish, your goodness.” Ambroise bit her lip as if holding something back as she left, her expression and bright blue eyes writhe with concern.
Glinda sighed again, wiping a single tear as she opened the grimmeire.
Her silk blue nightgown, adorned with silk flowers, the bed soft but discomforting, like it was swallowing her whole. After 2 years, Glinda could read the grimmerie about as well as a 5 year old could read in general: with great difficulty but it was possible. Although she’d been holding it off, reading that spell. I meant time-travel was a tricky little thing. And of course she had to consider what Elphaba would have wanted, not her. It was only fair that way- she'd already got everything she had wanted.
What did Elphie’s heart desire?
She gave up her life to save Oz, would she really want to be alive again if Oz was ruled by the Wizard..? Glinda knew the answer to that and selfishness bubbled like a cauldron within her. Elphie of all people deserved to be alive. Maybe things could go differently. She’d help, with her popularity and....
‘Oh who am I kidding!” Glinda huffed, vision going blurry with tears again.
“I can’t do it, not like she could. I’m not ‘good’.”
She curled up in on herself, silk covering her face, making it harder to breathe like it wasn’t hard already. She was far too familiar with the burn of hot tears on her face that she didn’t even bother to wipe them.
Glinda had seen first-hand how the animals’ lives had been changed for the better. And although she might care for them just because she cared about Elphaba, she wasn’t sure her conscience would allow for her to go back to that time.
Or maybe she could just kill the wizard? Go with Elphaba, get close to him and kill him. I’d be her fault and she’d be hunted down and evil. Elphaba would hate her, killing someone who would be her hero but then Elphaba could be in control. More powerful than that ghastly Madam Morrible, she’d take over and be the best ruler Oz had ever had. And Glinda would be free fro the guilt and the nightmares and from life. It was what she deserved, if there was one thing Ozians were right about is that the wicked should die alone.
It was still selfish. But that’s what Glinda knew best and it seemed like a well enough plan. Finally she’d do right by Elphaba without feeling like she was dying, rotting from the inside- bad apple from an even worse tree of people who sided with oppressors.
This time she’d be wicked, for good.
When Glinda first awoke, her eyes stayed close, she felt different and yet the same. Going to bed after the spell didn’t work and facing the day just feeling so disgusticfying. But it wasn’t about Glinda, no. Never again. Glinda opened her eyes. And then screamed.
A completely different room, one she quickly recognised as her childhood bedroom, coated in pink like a unicorn threw up in there and sickly sweet with the scent of strawberry perfume that she’d long replaced with a much more mature amber scent. Lavender pillows and gold uncrusted mirrors. No wonder she hadn’t helped Elphie. From the begining she was so... privledged.
Momsie and Popsicle ran into the room, their faces plastered with alarm. Right, of course. She hadn’t seen her parents much after becoming Glinda the Good, didn’t want to see them, it was so easy to blame their parenting for how she came out rather than blaming herself.
“Galinda dear, what’s wrong? A nightmare, broken nail, scarlet fever?”
Her father said erratically, immediately rushing to her side.
Glinda felt her eyes welling up against her will and her father held her tight as she buried her face in his chest, her now smaller hands holding onto him.
“Oh my little jewel, you mustn’t cry so, your eyes’ll look sunken. What’s the matter?”
Glinda’s sob caught in her throat.
“What day is it?”
“What was that sugarcube?” Her father soothed, hand still against the back of her head but Glinda pulled away getting out of bed in the rose-adorned nightgown that seemed to have followed her.
“Oz, what day is it? Have I been to Shiz?”
Her mother’s face fell from feigned pity to concern.
“Have you lost your memory? Why you go to Ozma Towers my pretty petal.”
What? Fuck.
Dammit. Dammit all. Glinda had run to her closet forgetting to answer. Going back in time must’ve changed the past. Whatever it was didn’t matter. Glinda had to find Elphaba, no matter where she was. If she was still alive that is...
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