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One of Sarima’s younger sisters–Four, maybe Five…she never cared to fully differentiate between them–burst through Elphaba’s tower door at Kiamo Ko.

“Auntie Guest!” she said breathlessly. “You have a visitor!”

Elphaba never cared for interruptions nor surprises of any kind. They had a habit of bringing her malice. She did not look up from her desk, where she pored over her natural resources texts and the dusty Grimmerie, which had recently begun revealing strange shapes to her. Chistery came to sit by her side atop a pile of books, his long tail flicking with impatience.

“A visitor?” Elphie scoffed. “Who, from where, cares to bother this witch in the west? Never you mind, send them away, I care not for visitors. I’m busy. Can’t you see I’m busy? And don’t come back here!”

The sister clutched her chest in shock and to catch her breath from climbing the tower stairs. She readjusted her bosom and her skirts as if the motion could reassemble some stateliness that did not exist. “Auntie,” she scolded. “Be a good Auntie, now, and heed the Lady of this house. Regardless of this visitor being for you or not, Sarima has summoned you, so I suggest you obey.” 

“Obey? Who is she to me that I must obey? The Emperor Wizard of Oz? Even he I shall not obey.”

The sister straightened, affronted. “Why, she is the Arjiki Princess, and your host, I might add! Enough of this blasphemy. Come down at once, Auntie, and welcome our guest.” 

“I will do no such thing. I am in the middle of something significant here, far more worthy of my time than any guest.” She defiantly inched further into her book with renewed purpose.

“Don’t be difficult. You are always a difficult one, Auntie, aren’t you? You and that boy of yours.”

Elphie finally looked up at the sister. Five, she believed she was number five. Her left brow was slightly more furrowed than her right due to inherent frustrations, such as Sarima, winter, young children, and witches.

“Don’t speak ill of the boy. He’s just that, a boy, and his proclivity for being difficult has nothing to do with me,” replied Elphie coolly. Seeing the look on Five’s face, she added, “Alright, perhaps it does. But besides, Liir is not mine.”

“Never minding that his features are an exact replica of your own and he is devoted to you like a pup and you a bitch, I resort to begging you to make an appearance for your guest, Auntie.”

“Bah, who could be important enough for me to go and face Sarima? Not even she will have audience with me, and I will stay right here in this tower until she changes her mind and I can fulfill my purpose and then go bury my broken body beneath the mountains.”

“Nonsense, Auntie, I wish you would not say such things.” 

“And I wish the whole lot of you Arjiki Princesses would leave this old witch alone to say her piece or at least conduct her research in peace, but we cannot all get what we want, hm?” Elphaba lifted Chistery off of her desk with a grunt so she could examine the tome underneath him. He scuttled away to the stone mantle above the dwindling fire, perched and guarding like a gargoyle. 

“You’re positively wicked, Auntie, you are. This is a very important guest, from Gillikin of all places, who has traveled here to–for whatever reason–have audience with you, of all creatures. You offend your hosts with this hostility, Auntie Guest, although I expected no more and no less.” 

But as Five turned on her heel, scuffing the wooden floor with the aggression of it, Elphie lifted her head again and shouted for her to wait.

“I have been waiting, and reduced myself to begging in my own home, you wicked old thing. Will you do as we say, for once?” said Five. She crossed her arms in indignation. And–if she was honest with herself, which she wasn’t–for protection, for she was ever so frightened of the green woman and wary of her miserable antics. 

“Gillikin? You said Gillikin?” Elphaba asked, oddly perkily.

“Yes, Gillikin. How wretched of a journey through the Kells from there to here, and with winter coming upon us once again.” Five shivered involuntarily.

“That cannot be,” Elphaba mumbled. “I have not treated with the Gillikinese since…since my days at dear old Shiz!” 

“How good for you,” Five said sarcastically, although she tightened her grip around herself. If she was honest with herself–which, again, she was not–she was jealous that Elphaba had had the opportunities of higher education and travels and the general life of an eldest-born child. Not to mention a child of her own and magical abilities. Five did not even have a room to herself in her own familial castle. 

“You are in luck, sister,” Elphaba replied, rising with a teeth-grinding squeak of her desk chair, brittle wood against stone. “Curiosity, the old foolish thing, has gotten the better of my judgment. I will see this guest you speak of. But let it be known that I do this of my own accord and of no submission to Princess Sarima’s wishes. She has done me no great favor, and I shall withhold my own. And besides, this visitor is for me, as you said yourself, so it is nothing but mere coincidence that your current pleas align with what I myself desire to do.” 

With her nose upturned and her dignity decidedly sufficiently intact, Elphaba left a speechless, defeated Five behind and descended the tower stairs into the main hall. 

Curiously, Elphie smelled the visitor before hearing her and then seeing her, and, in a blur of gold and white, she felt a familiar Gillikinese girl in her arms. Having to complete all five senses, Elphaba briefly thought that she would taste as good as she smelled, all sweet with herbs and oils in a way that melted in her mouth…

“Elphie!” 

Elphaba was drawn from her foolish thoughts and back to the present, where Lady Glinda of the Arduennas had two arms wrapped around her neck and a ridiculous amount of white tulle skirt pressed into her lower half. The green woman was suddenly glad that blush could not appear easily through her dark emerald skin. For once her oddity was a blessing.

“Galinda!” Elphie, shocked, addressed the woman out of habit. She held her an arm’s length away and drank her in. She looked much the same in her thirties as she did when they were both eighteen and shared a bed at Shiz. Perfectly blonde hair, eyes like planets, dressed in an exceptional gaudy ballgown despite the perilous and dirt-filled circumstances of traveling from Gillikin to the Vinkus, light in all the ways that Elphaba felt she was not. Perhaps her cheeks were tinged with more blush and freckles than they were at school, which Elphaba would have certainly noticed about any other old friend, thank you very much.

“It’s Lady Glinda now, Elphie. Oz, have you forgotten me?”

“Of course not, Lady Glinda. And have you ever heard of the concept of a letter? Your arrival is quite unexpected.”

“You misjudge me, Miss Elphaba. I go where I please and see who I please whenever I please, and an unexpected arrival does not equate to a disappointing one, anyhow,” Glinda said easily. She still held on to Elphie’s shoulders until the green woman wiggled free, having not touched another human being since she pulled Liir out of the fish well and cradled him back to warmth some months ago. Glinda would not be shaken off so easily; she smoothed Elphie’s cape across her shoulders and fiddled with a strand of black hair wrapped around her finger. “You look much the same as the last time I saw you. I was hoping you would have aged a bit more terribly than I, I’m used to being the most dazzling belle in the room, you know. You’ve hardly a wrinkle on that beautiful face of yours.”

Elphie straightened at the strange comment. Her ears buzzed suddenly, and she wondered if her loyal bees had come for a visit. “The green was never enough to convince you of my ugliness, shall I gash my face open then so you can have your way?” Elphie replied.

“Don’t be gruesome, darling, it’s not my fault you never did believe my compliments.”

Sarima, who had been standing flabbergasted in the center of her own parlor watching the reunification of the two witches, cleared her throat in the most graceful manner she could muster. Elphaba had completely forgotten about the presence of other people in the castle, perhaps in the world. Glinda removed her hands from Elphie’s shoulders, and she felt suddenly untethered, like she might float away, out the window, over the mountains, out of Oz. 

“Ah, yes!” Glinda clapped her hands together. “I was just telling Sarima here of our connection to her princely husband, Fiyero, may Lurline bless his soul. He was our classmate, as you know, although I daresay I knew him better, having spent more years at Shiz than Elphaba…”

Sarima cleared her throat again. When she finally had the chance to speak, her voice was an octave higher than usual. “Yes, well, any friend of my late husband’s is of course welcome here at Kiamo Ko. You will have to forgive us, Lady Glinda, as we did not know of your arrival, nor that Auntie had any…friends to expect, in fact, so we are grossly underprepared for visitors. I will excuse myself to gather provisions for a meal for you and your horsemen and allow you and Auntie to…catch up.” She looked curiously between the two of them before adding, “My Lady, do you also refrain from eating animals?”

Glinda laughed, and the sound of it brightened the entire room. Elphaba felt the unfamiliar twinge of a smile curling one side of her lip before she had the wherewithal to tamper it.

“I see my Elphie is still rooted in her noble cause for Animal justice, but no, thank you, Princess. I do not refrain from eating animals, but I also take no offense to a humble diet. I have brought several Gillikinese chickens with me as both a welcome and a thank you, if you’d like to indulge tonight or on a different night.”

Sarima bristled, unsure of whether to take offense or return gratitude for the bold sentiment. She could not pretend that Kiamo Ko was not wanting for fresh eggs and poultry, especially with unannounced guests. “Please, call me Sarima,” she managed, “and thank you, My Lady. Make yourself at home.” Sarima turned to Elphaba. “Auntie, I hope you can manage not to scare our guest away?”

“I’ll try my best,” Elphie replied. The strange twinge returned to her unruly lip, which she bit to keep in place.

Sarima, with an unconvinced huff, scurried from the parlor to give orders to her sisters and the children to begin preparations. Elphaba watched her go, suddenly incredibly cognizant of the last time she and Glinda were alone in a room together all those years ago, on their way to see the Wizard, wrapped in the scratchy sheets of inns and wrapped in each other…

“Glinda,” Elphaba interrupted her own thoughts. “Why are you here?”

“Well, always so forward, Miss Elphaba! I’m here to see you, of course. A little Birdie told me of a green witch that had taken up residence at Kiamo Ko, and I thought: ‘That must be my Elphie!’”

“How intuitive,” said Elphaba, dryly. 

“I’m quite shocked that in all of these years I haven’t heard from you, or even of you. How many green girls can there be wandering about Oz? Has good gossip abandoned us as well?”

“If you find out there are more of me, do let me know. I have some pertinent questions for them about their anatomy amongst other things.”

Glinda’s features drooped suddenly, the weight of constant perception draining out of her, soft elegance replaced with something brutally serious that still did not reveal her substance. One had to peel at least two guarding layers away from Lady Glinda to reach what was underneath. Elphaba’s presence alone had already begun shaving one away.

“Elphie…”

Elphie shifted uncomfortably, having not heard her nickname in quite some time, perhaps since she visited her father, and then perhaps when she was with Fiyero before that, but she refused to think of him. She never expected to hear her name in another beautiful mouth that was not Fiyero’s. Her recent names included scarcely anything besides “Sister” or “Auntie”, but there were hardly many people she could trust with something as personal as her name. 

Dizzily, Elphie fell more than sat back onto the parlor sofa behind her, her vision fading around the edges. She felt the light touch of Glinda’s palm against her shoulder.

“Are you alright, dearest?”

“I’m fine,” Elphie lied. She inhaled sharply. “Why are you here, Glinda?” she repeated.

“Isn’t it good to see me?” Glinda asked, shifting her weight further onto Elphie’s shoulder.

“Yes,” replied Elphie plainly, earning her a dazzling smile that encapsulated both Lady Glinda and Galinda of Shiz. 

“Yes, and…” prompted Glinda, leaning down slightly more, toward Elphie’s ear.

“Yes, but, you shouldn’t have come. I have nothing to show for all of this time that’s passed.” 

Glinda tutted in a very unladylike manner, which made Elphaba smile in full, the skin of her eyes crinkling. She neutralized her face when Glinda glided to sit beside her on the sofa. Elphaba was more shocked by her own lack of instinctual recoil than by the feeling of her hands inside of Glinda’s as the woman held hers gently.

“You must tell me what you’ve been up to, Elphie. It can’t be true that you have nothing to show, not if you left me. I refuse to believe it.”

Elphie blinked her confusion away. Glinda couldn’t possibly have expected her to return to her, could she? 

“I have nothing for you here.”

“Don’t be silly, Elphie. You’re here.” 

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. I meant I’ve done nothing that I set out to do. I haven’t brought justice to Doctor Dillamond or Ama Clutch, or anyone else, for that matter. I haven’t helped the Animals. I haven’t confronted the Wizard, or even made a dent in the resistance. People…died…because of me. All the wrong people. And I–I gave up. I’ve given up. There is nothing more to tell you.” Elphie’s hands began to shake for saying things she’d never said aloud, and she drew them out of Glinda’s grasp and into her own lap, knuckles turning a pale seafoam green. 

It was strange and disconcerting to have Glinda there to talk to, solid and warm and gentle beside her. Glinda was one of the only people from her past that knew about Doctor Dillamond’s murder. She was present when Ama Clutch passed, and when Madame Morrible cast her strange curse over them and Nessa. She was there when they met the Wizard, saw his veil of theatrics, heard his authoritarian views. She had certainly been present when Elphaba kissed her goodbye and sent her out of the dangerous claws of the Emerald City. She was friends with Fiyero before he had returned into Elphaba’s life, before he had perished because of her, before she had sworn herself into silence and solitude. She even cared for Nessa when Elphaba had abandoned Shiz and everyone in it. And now, here she was again, when Elphie had exiled and surrounded herself with the remnants of her lover flitting around her like living ghosts, never more surrounded by people but never more alone. A wave of shame roiled within her gut, and she bent her head into her lap to hinder the burning vomit that threatened her esophagus. 

“Elphie!” 

“I’m fine.”

“Oh, darling, it’s a good thing I arrived when I did, isn’t it? What a state you’re in!” 

Glinda pulled Elphaba’s head into her own pillow of a lap, and Elphaba exhaled stubbornly but properly for the first time in over ten years. 

Sarima re-entered the parlor with tea and dry biscuits then, her eyes going rounder than the saucers at seeing Elphaba relaxed in the lap of Lady Glinda, who was gently stroking her cheek. Her step faltered over the threshold. Awkwardly, she cleared her throat as she set the tray down on the tea table, the ceramic cups clinking against the saucers, the tray thudding against the weathered wood. Sarima smoothed her dry, cracked hands against the navy cotton of her apron. Elphaba, embarrassed, attempted to sit upright, but Glinda’s hand pressed flush against her cheek stopped her. She mumbled something incoherently into the buoyant tulle of Glinda’s skirts, and Glinda replied with a muttered “Stay” and a pat to her dark green cheek.

“Tea and biscuits,” said Sarima stupidly. 

“Thank you, Your Grace!” 

“Of course…Will you and Auntie be needing anything else until dinner, Lady Glinda?” 

“No, thank you, dear. Such hospitality, it’s no wonder my Elphie stayed!” 

Elphie, eyes now closed and cheeks still sandwiched between Glinda’s skirt and her hand, frowned. Hospitality was certainly not the reason she stayed at Kiamo Ko, but she would not say such in front of Glinda lest she embarrass her and Sarima. 

“It’s nothing,” Sarima blushed slightly. “In the meantime, I shall have my sisters consolidate their chambers so you may take up private residence in one of their rooms for as long as you wish to stay, Lady Glinda.”

“You’re too kind, Your Grace. But that won’t be necessary. I hardly wish to impose change upon your home due to my unexpected arrival. Elphie here won’t mind if I stay with her so you and your sisters may stay put. ”

Elphie’s eyes flew open, and she pushed her head upright through Glinda’s hand, which came to rest on her knee instead while the other hand reached for a biscuit. She took one nibble and politely hid her face of disgust with a smile before placing it gingerly back on the tray. 

“Glinda, I regret to inform you that my chambers are quite private,” said Elphaba gravely. 

“Nonsense, darling, we shouldn’t be more of a burden on our gracious hosts!”

Sarima shifted from one aching foot to the other. She bent her knees slightly to stretch them, but it looked like a strange acquiescent curtsy hidden by her skirts. Pain settled between Sarima’s joints as the winter settled into the Kells. 

“It’s really no trouble at all, my Lady, whatever you decide,” said Sarima. Her eyes flicked nervously between the two women. She could sense Elphaba’s flaring temper from across the castle. Not even Liir was allowed in Elphaba’s tower half the time, certainly not to sleep, and here was a Gillikinese noblewoman, the very antithesis of everything Elphaba, inviting herself into her bed. She imagined Lady Glinda up in the witch’s dirty tower, a sparkling bright angel amongst the dank, dirt, and animals. Against her will, Sarima chuckled. She clamped her hand over her own mouth when she saw Elphaba’s eyes narrow. 

“Sarima,” Elphaba warned between gritted teeth. Sarima threw her hands in the air in exasperation toward the green woman. 

“Oh, what now, Auntie? I cannot hope to please both of my guests, it seems, and since Lady Glinda quite outranks you, she, as our newest and more distinguished guest and longer friend of Prince Fiyero, shall have the final say.”

Elphie’s scowl deepened, but Sarima continued. “Besides, it may do you some good to have some company in that dusty tower of yours. Perhaps it will prepare you to finally let Liir-“

“Sarima, please,” Elphie interrupted. 

“I’ll not entertain your constant protests in front of our new guest, Auntie! My reasoning aside, this is my castle, after all, and we shall not deny the wishes of our noble guest, despite the frequency with which you feel the need to defy me.”

Sarima nodded with finality. Glinda watched the entire exchange with her back primly straight and her eyes sparkling with curiosity. 

“Elphie, darling, why don’t you show me to your rooms?” Glinda nudged. 

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Sarima agreed, snarling pointedly towards Elphaba, who stuck out her tongue unabashedly, like an insolent child. Glinda giggled and squeezed her knee, and Elphie’s tongue retreated back into her mouth. Sarima tried her best to ignore the insufferable green witch and turned instead to the other witch. 

“I’ll have my sisters and children attend to your belongings, Lady Glinda, and I myself will summon you for dinner,” Sarima added. 

“Well, it certainly is a splendid day when Princess Sarima herself summons us for dinner,” said Elphie sarcastically. 

“You’re wicked, Auntie. Truly. It’s a wonder Lady Glinda puts up with you at all, let alone travels halfway across Oz just to be reacquainted with the awful likes of you.”

“So I’ve heard,” Elphaba said dryly. 

“And so you’ll hear again, if your attitude continues. Forgive us, Lady Glinda. It is hard to control Auntie Guest and her little outbursts. I daren’t hope you nor your lord husband will think less of our clan nor our house for it.”

“It’s quite alright, Your Grace. It has been some time, but I realize I am quite familiar with Elphie’s penchant for prickliness and her aptitude for attitude, and I shan’t blame you for it.” Glinda produced a radiant smile that made Sarima lower her shoulders slightly. 

“Very well. If you require anything—anything at all—please don’t hesitate to find me or one of my sisters, my Lady.”

With a pointed glare in Elphaba’s direction and a clumsy curtsy that made both of her knees crack painfully, Sarima swept out of the parlor. 

“Oh, Elphie, I have missed you. Your proclivity for inappropriate speech makes me simply giggle like a schoolgirl again. Although, I admit, it once drove me similarly insane. Poor Sarima has become your latest victim!”

“I am the victim here, I fear. Practically a hostage.” 

“Nonsense, I’m sure they all adore you. Tell me, how long have you lived with Fiyero’s family?”

Elphaba bristled at the mention of her former lover. 

“It’s been two winters. This will be the third.” 

“And they haven’t ousted you yet!”

“Not by force. I think they’re afraid of me,” Elphie shrugged. “They’re quite daft,” she added thoughtfully.

“Shh! Elphie, you really are terrible. Come, guide me to my bed. I wish to rest before dinner.” 

“You mean my bed. And I daresay I’m not the terrible one.” Elphie picked up Glinda’s hand from its resting place on her knee and rose, pulling Glinda up beside her. 

Thus, Elphaba Thropp found herself dragging one giddy Lady Glinda down the drafty halls of Kiamo Ko and up the spiraling staircase of her tower. The rhythmic clicking of Glinda’s heels against the stone and her interjections of positivity (“Oh, how lovely!” and “Look, Elphie!” and “Such a spectacular view!”) filled the eerie silent corridors as well as Elphaba’s dead heart with a strange vibrance that neither the halls nor Elphie had known for quite some time. 

At the top of the staircase, Elphie’s hand dropped from Glinda’s and paused over the doorknob. She had not willingly invited anyone into her home since she allowed Fiyero to stay in her Emerald City apartment. The one that had ended up spattered with his blood, the one in which the cat was flayed and hung by the rafters, the one that had turned from a haven of love and resistance to something monstrous and evil and deadly all because she was not careful enough…

She shuddered.

“Elphie?” Glinda asked, heartbreakingly gently. 

“It’s nothing. This is it.” She couldn’t bring herself to actually invite Glinda in, so the other woman stood at the top of the stairs, looking incredibly small in her massive skirts framed by the door, waiting for permission as Elphie stepped through. Elphie began immediately busying herself by closing books and dusting off surfaces, coughing as the particles drifted into her nose and throat. The candles had all melted down and burnt out, leaving smatterings of wax dripping on every surface, and one last log sat ashy and smoking in the hearth.

“May I come in?” Glinda asked patiently. 

“I… yes. Fine. And…thank you for asking,” Elphie replied, grateful that someone at Kiamo Ko at least respected the only tolerable space she had left in the world before intruding into it. 

Glinda beamed and stepped over the threshold, looking around for a beat before springing into action. With a flick of her hand, new logs floated into the hearth and burst into dry, green flames that began warming the moisture out of the room with defiant cracks. With another flick of her hand, the candle wax reformed and the wicks reignited. Elphaba’s jaw dropped at witnessing the blatant magic. 

“That’s better,” Glinda said.

“So, it’s true! You, too, are a sorceress. The Good Witch of the North. And Nessa in the East, and me in the West… I had heard it was so, but I didn’t want to believe that Madame Morrible’s curse had come to fruition.”

Glinda frowned at that. “I don’t recall what you reference, Elphie. My sorcery comes from a great deal of practice at Shiz—which you would have known if you would have cared to be there—and hopefully not from some horrible curse, Lurline forbid it!” 

Elphie was suddenly excited. Her heart thumped between her ribs. She patted the bones there as if to help them settle. “Let me show you my own magic I’ve been working on. I found an old Grimmerie in the castle, and it’s helped me continue Doctor Dillamond’s research after all of these years. Perhaps you can read it better than I can, you were–um, are–better at these sorts of things…” Elphaba trailed off while she stacked books frantically on her desk and pulled the Grimmerie open from beneath several other tomes.

“Oh, Oz,” Glinda breathed in response. The fire crackled loudly, and Elphie extinguished a stray ember with the bottom of her boot without looking up. 

Suddenly, Glinda screamed and fell in a blurred heap to the stone floor, covering her face with her arms. Elphie rushed over to her and shielded her body with her own before knowing what the threat was. She flung her arms protectively around Glinda and looked wildly around the room, and Glinda clutched her as if her life depended on it. The Grimmerie was discarded to the floor, and one unfortunate stack of books toppled in a billowing cloud of dust.

“Glinda! What-” 

Her panic was interrupted by the weight of little Chistery clambering up onto her shoulder with several distressed chirps.

“Oh! It’s only Chistery!”

“What is that thing?! It attacked me! Elphie! Help!” 

“He’s friendly! He’s just my Snow Monkey. He won’t hurt you!” 

Glinda unfurled from two pairs of arms and glared, horrified, at the snow monkey perched atop Elphaba’s shoulder.

“Elphaba Thropp! You are harboring animals at Kiamo Ko!” 

“And Animals, actually. That’s what I was trying to tell you. I’m continuing Doctor Dillamond’s research. I’m teaching him to speak,” Elphaba said proudly. 

“You–what?”

“Chistery, this is Lady Glinda. Can you please say hello?”

“Help! Hell! Hard! Home! Horror!” screeched Chistery.

Glinda readjusted her hair and her dignity but remained seated on the floor. “Well, that’s very interesting, Elphie,” she said dubiously. 

“He’s still learning. Chistery, can you say hello to Glinda?” 

“Glitter! Glee! Giddy! Gelphie!”

“Now he’s just making up words of his own.” 

“He’s a little shy, he hasn’t met many new people. Just the other day, when I lit the candles at my desk, he said ‘fire’! I’m sure of it.” 

“I’m sure he did, darling, it’s quite impressive. Are there any other animals–or Animals–I should worry about making a surprise appearance, while we are entertaining such introductions?”

“Just Killyjoy, my dog. He’ll be along. The bees remain outside.”

“...Bees?” Glinda’s brows knitted with worry. She was not overly fond of insects, nor of most beasts of Oz. Although the dog was certainly fine, and a talking Monkey piqued her attention, at the very least.  

“Not to fret, Lady Glinda, they all listen to me, so they won’t harm you.” Elphaba smiled crookedly and gave Chistery a pat on the head. He climbed down her arm, sniffed Glinda once with an appeased grunt, and curled up in front of the reinvigorated fire. Elphie rose and held her hand out for Glinda, who took it gratefully with a shy smile of her own and allowed herself to be pulled back to her feet. 

“Talking makes him quite tired,” Elphie explained simply.

“I see. Just like his Mother, I suppose. You never were one for small talk either, Elphie.” 

“I’m not his Mother,” Elphaba said flatly. “And you always were one for sentimentality.” 

“Some things don’t change,” Glinda said. Her cheeks were flushed from her fearful moment, the warmth of the fire, and Elphaba’s hand on her own. Her heart dropped when Elphie once again dropped her hands stiffly back to her sides. 

“Well,” Glinda said, her voice a notch higher than her usual soprano, “You’ve certainly been busy here, and you’ve certainly not given up! Doctor Dillamond would be quite grateful, I’m sure. We must write to our friends from Shiz to tell them of your progress! They always spoke quite highly of you and your research, you know, after you left Shiz. Crope and I still speak of you from time to time.”

“Er–thank you, for saying that,” she balked.

Elphaba looked hard at her former roommate. It felt so strange to have her in her chambers at Kiamo Ko–alive, warm, understanding, hopeful, stepping straight from a simpler era of life before there was death–that Elphaba suddenly felt waves of grief wash over her. While Glinda looked much the same, there was a mature pain to her now that Elphaba noticed in the slight pinch of her shoulders and tightness of her angled jaw. There was a sadness within her that emanated from her glistening eyes, which also had well-hidden shadows under them. There was the ghost of a kiss that tickled her lips. Elphaba felt the weight of their separation settle between them, heavier than an anvil, and more destructive. She was still Glinda, but she carried more, and her body had stiffened under the weight.

“...Glinda?” 

“Yes, dearest?”

“I’m sorry…for leaving.” Elphaba averted her eyes and crouched down to stoke the fire with an iron rod, although the flames were roaring without her attention. 

Just then, Liir peeked his head around the corner, and Lady Glinda screamed again. She clutched at her breast in such a way that Elphie feared she may meet her demise at Kiamo Ko via heart attack. Reflexively, Elphie stepped forward to catch her, arms outstretched, if she did indeed decide to swoon. She hoped she would not die, as she knew her corpse would not likely survive the long journey back to Gillikin, and a simple Vinkan mountain burial would be much too unbecoming for such a woman. 

“Glinda! It’s only the boy. You needn’t fret over him.” 

“Sweet Lurline, Elphie, you didn’t tell me–why, he looks exactly like–but, no, it can’t be. Oh, Oz!” Glinda fell to her knees again, a doll lost in a sea of massive skirts, and opened her arms to young Liir, one tear rolling dramatically down her cheek. 

Liir had never seen a Gillikinese noblewoman before, let alone any woman that was willing to show him an ounce of motherly comfort. He scuffled timidly closer to Glinda.

“Come here, darling boy, and let me have a look at you!” Glinda squealed. 

Liir looked to Elphaba, who only shrugged, and took four more steps forward, his head bowed slightly. 

“That’s it! What’s your name, darling?”

“Liir,” he replied shyly, stopping just a few inches from where Glinda’s outstretched arms met their end. Stubbornly, she hopped forward as a frog on bent legs would and closed the distance between them. Liir stood stock still as she caressed his face then turned it this way and that to examine him, his eyes transfixed on her despite the odd anglings of his head.

Glinda was muttering things under her breath, and Liir was becoming redder by the moment. “Liir! What a beautiful name for a beautiful boy! Those pointy ears, yes, dazzling black hair, of course, why, look at that handsome nose, dark skin, green eyes, strong jaw, and those full lips…”

Glinda’s attention diverted startlingly abruptly back to Elphaba. She rose and pointed a slender finger at the green woman, who swatted it away with equal speed and stepped back.

“Elphaba Thropp, I’ll have you know I forgave you for vanishing on me for over a decade to fend for myself at Shiz and then amongst the Gillikinese noblemen, but you couldn’t even write to tell me you had a son?!” Her voice was low, private in a way that Elphaba hadn’t heard since their week spent wrapped in each other on the journey to the Emerald City all of those years ago. “You have more explaining to do, Miss Elphaba!” she hissed.

For once in her entire life, Elphaba Thropp was speechless. Every single snappy retort vanished from her mind or otherwise got lost somewhere in her throat, forming a lump in it. 

“And what do you have the poor boy wearing?!” Glinda added, scandalized, her voice returning to its normal register. “Oh, Elphie, you do need me, don’t you?” 

“I–”

“--tell me you need me here, darling, for the boy, of course, I’ll stay!”

“Glinda! I can ask no such thing of you. And besides, Liir is not mine.” She said it for the second time that day, and it was beginning to feel strange in her mouth.

“Oh, Oz, Elphaba, you’re even stupider than I thought you were!” Glinda threw her hands up in exasperation and looked incredulously at Liir, who shrugged in the exact same manner as Elphaba.

“More stupid,” replied Elphaba unthinkingly, having a penchant for more formal language.

“Yes, much, much more stupid!” Glinda agreed, nodding so feverishly and turning so burgundy in color that Elphie feared that she may pass out. She took another preventative step forward. She had forgotten how temperamental Galinda could be, and how temperamental Glinda now was required a great deal of her concentration. Glinda was like a wave ebbing to shore, and Elphaba was trying to decide whether to swim over or under it to keep afloat.

Glinda carried on, babbling in a manner so aggressive that it created fissures for her decorum to leak out of. “I am, honestly, infuriated with you at this moment, Miss Elphaba, and I am regretting traversing half of Oz for the chance to reconcile my feelings for you, when here you are, looking as beautiful as ever and being so, incredibly, stupid, as ever.” She began to pace back and forth. Liir stood right where Glinda had left him, his mouth agape, and Elphie took yet another step toward Glinda with her palms outstretched as if to shield herself and Liir from an impending explosion. “But of course I don’t mean such words, my dear, it’s just that I always offer to stay with you and you always refuse, and it’s getting to be quite embarrassing, me a married woman after all, traveling by herself like some peasant through the filthy valleys of the Vinkus just to be humbled once again by a—a schoolgirl posing as a sorceress.” 

The wave was crashing, and Elphie felt herself tumbling in the serf, choking on sand, scraping her skin on shards of shell and rock.

“Glinda,” said Elphie simply, gentle warning in her voice. 

“Don’t!”

“I said I was sorry.”

“And perhaps your apology is the reason I came here in the first place, Miss Elphaba, which you gratefully had the wherewithal to provide swiftly, though not without protest, but now I fear I am simply infuriated with you all over again!” 

Elphaba was going to drown in Glinda’s wave.

“Auntie, shall I fetch some water for Lady Glinda?” Liir interjected timidly. The poor boy always tried to be helpful, but the witch had hardly any use for it. She found all men, even small ones, to be stupid.

Glinda turned on Elphaba, her finger pointed back at her chin, her face startlingly purple. “And why in Lurline’s name does Liir and everyone else in this Oz-forsaken castle call you that?”

“Fetch that water, Liir,” Elphie muttered to Liir, who nodded stoically at his noble task and dashed from the room. 

Glinda collapsed dramatically onto the chaise by the hearth, draping one hand onto the floor and the other over her face. “Oh, Elphie, I swear you shall be the death of me. I want to die without you, and when I finally find you, I want to die all over again when I’m with you.” 

“Don’t be dramatic, Glinda. Not even you would stoop to something as gruesome as killing yourself. The attention would be…short-lived, and not at all glorious or romantic.”

“You horrible, green thing! You tell me not to be dramatic when here you are, living with a son you won’t claim in the castle of your lover’s widow…conversing with animals…while I’m the one traversing Gillikin talking sense into noblemen’s heads for no gratitude outside of my lord husband’s monetary stipends…” 

“How did you know that?” Elphaba asked, shocked. She knelt next to Glinda, grabbed her by the shoulders, and shook her. Chistery began to shriek and hiss. 

“Stop it, Chistery, she’s fine. I’m fine.” Elphaba hissed back. “Glinda, how did you know about Fiyero?” Chistery hissed again and skittered to the window and out of sight. 

Glinda straightened then. She stared at Elphaba. Her skin was hot where the green girl touched her shoulders. The fire in her eyes was more than just a reflection from the burning hearth, and the ice in her next words sent shivers down Elphaba’s spine. 

“I know a great deal about you, Elphaba Thropp. I made it my business to learn every whisper, every rumor, every trace of the green girl I loved from Shiz. I made it my business to find my way back to you even when you abandoned me.” 

For the second time that day and also in her life, Elphaba Thropp was speechless. Her lips parted and closed like a fish out of water, uncannily similar to the way Liir had just looked at her a moment ago. 

“You…loved me?” Of all the things said that afternoon, of all the apologies made and the stories told, of course that was the only question that the Wicked Witch of the West asked the Good Witch of the North. Elphaba felt that the odds of not one but two people in Oz loving her were slim to none. She would not have believed it the first time if only she couldn’t still hear those words leaving Fiyero’s lips, and she wondered what they’d sound like on Glinda’s. 

Glinda pulled back and began to cry into her hands. Elphie recoiled when a tear rolled off of Glinda’s cheek and splashed painfully against her skin, which made Glinda’s body wrack harder with over a decades worth of sobs.

“Of course–of course I did! How. Could. I. Not?” Glinda choked between her words. Elphie retrieved a handkerchief from her desk and held it out for Glinda, who took it and blew her nose. She kneeled back down and patted the other woman’s knee, careful to avoid any more stray water droplets lest she come away from this emotional outburst with more burn marks than answers. The motions of care felt unnatural in her body, as most everyone did not take comfort from the strange green woman, so Elphaba was hesitant to disburse them. 

“I didn’t take you for a fool,” Elphaba said, which was the wrong thing to say.

“I’m no fool, Miss Elphaba. It is not foolish to love the only person in Oz with a backbone and a sense of humor in these times.” She blew her nose again and sniffled aggressively. The tears began to slow, and she pawed at her face in embarrassment, wiping at the wetness with her palms and then wiping her palms on her ridiculous skirt. Elphaba had a fleeting thought that she should take Glinda’s skirt off, then pushed that thought back down into the corner of her subconscious that Glinda occupied. 

“Certainly you must have met nobler women and men than I in Gillikin,” Elphaba mused. Her pats had turned to gentle rubs on Glinda’s knees, and the other woman was looking at her with widened eyes. 

“Certainly I’ve met richer women and men than you in Gillikin,” replied Glinda, glancing at the dust bunnies collecting between stones, in corners, and below furniture, “which is precisely why none of them has an acceptable ethical foundation nor good character.”

“I see.”

“And can you please stop that,” Glinda swatted green fingers away from her knees, halting their ministrations, and straightened defensively. “It’s driving me a tad more insane than I care to admit, a tad crazier than I already feel right now for being here in this ridiculous tower in this ridiculous part of the country.”

“Sorry. I never was comforting,” Elphie replied, pulling her hands away. Their physical proximity made both women's heads spin. 

“I suppose not.” Glinda gave a tired half-smile that swept the air from Elphie’s lungs. 

Emboldened, Elphie approached Glinda again, framing her rosy cheeks with green hands as gently as possible, no longer cognizant of the tear stains stinging her palms. “Galinda…” 

Glinda’s eyes closed, and she took one shaky breath that sounded something like “Elphie”. 

“Did Auntie frighten you, Lady Glinda?” cried Liir as he ran through the door, face red and blotchy with exertion, and saw Glinda’s wet face. The water glass in his hands was half empty from him clumsily spilling it while running up the tower stairs, and slightly dirty on the rim where he had stopped to take a tiny sip. Killyjoy was on his heels, panting raggedly. 

Elphaba jumped back to stand near the hearth, and Glinda’s eyes shot open at the sudden intrusion. Her fingers ached slightly from gripping the edge of her seat, and she flexed her hands once, twice. Liir approached the chaise and held out the water for her, oblivious to the moment he was interrupting, having never witnessed affection before outside of a pat on the head, which he now doled out to Killyjoy.

“She has that effect on people,” Liir told Glinda with a shrug. 

“Thank you, darling.” Glinda gave him a watery smile, and his blush crept up to his ears. 

“Run along, Liir. Lady Glinda and I have some things to discuss.” She crossed her hands in front of her in a posture she thought made her look tall and imposing. Glinda nearly laughed at the sight.

Liir gave her a hurt look that would certainly have made Elphaba feel guilty if she would allow herself to feel such things, or anything at all besides mild annoyance, for him. He then looked to Glinda questioningly, hoping she’d be as forgiving and gracious as she seemed, or at least more forgiving and gracious than Elphaba.

“Go on, dearest, I shall see you soon, at dinner!” Glinda nodded. Appeased, he bowed quickly to the noblewoman and skipped back through the door with Killyjoy still loping behind.

“Liir, what have I told you about shutting the door on the way out?” Elphaba scolded after him.

He reappeared just to stick his tongue out at Elphaba and heave the door closed with more force than the task warranted. They heard six little paws–two human, four animal–fade. 

Glinda took tiny sips of water and stared thoughtfully at Liir long past his exit from the room as if she could see him descending the stairs through the walls. Elphie placed another unnecessary log on the fire, which spit sparks in protest, if only to distract herself or give Glinda some space. 

Suddenly, Elphie heard Glinda whisper something that sounded like Qua’ati, which could not be correct, as Glinda had never set foot in Quadling Country. 

“What?” said Elphaba, her hands stilling.

“I said, incredible.”

“Oh. What is?” 

“Liir. It’s as if he is perfectly half you and half Fiyero.” 

Elphaba wrinkled her nose and wiped soot and wood dust from her hands as she rose. “I’ve told you, Liir is not mine. He just happened to have traveled with me here, and I did not refuse him, out of the goodness of my heart, or something like that.”

Glinda fixed her with a glare so condescending that Elphaba thought she may shrink back into herself or otherwise follow Chistery and fling herself out of the tower window. 

“He has a great deal of your nasty habits, such as staring at ladies with his mouth agape and sticking out his tongue at his superiors.”

“Yes but only towards beautiful ladies and magnanimous superiors, can you blame him?”

Glinda ignored her. “Not to mention his clear penchant for hanging about with animals. And, Elphie, he looks exactly like you.”

“Well, I don’t know if he is mine,” she explained in exasperation. “I don’t remember anything from his first year or so of life. One day he was simply there. And I fear there’s no motherly bone in my body, so it’s best for the both of us if he’s not.” 

“Elphaba!”

“He certainly doesn’t have the right complexion to be mine,” Elphie mumbled.

“His skin and perhaps his nose are perfectly Fiyero. And the rest of him is perfectly you.”

“I don’t see it.”

“Well, you never were one for the looking glass, darling. I daresay I’ve studied your features more than you have, and I say the comparison is startling.” 

“You haven’t seen me in twelve years!”

“And whose fault is that? Besides, I could never forget your face, not in a million years when the Wizard is long gone and the poppy fields die, not when Lurline herself returns to us. I spent an entire year studying you in our room, in our bed, your reflection in the vanity…”

“I’m sure the green helps one’s memory of my self.” Elphaba gestured to herself.

“Oh, will you stop it with the comments about your verdigris? Please. I’m aghast that you still dictate your character based on your skin color, Miss Elphaba. I know you walk marked through the world, but there are more important things. I told you once that you were beautiful, don’t you recall?”

“I recall you being a terrible flirt or a terrible liar,” replied Elphie. She bumped Glinda’s shoulder lightly as she plopped onto the chaise next to her.  

“I happen to be an excellent flirt and an excellent liar, thank you very much!” Glinda took a long final drink from her water glass. Elphaba watched a single drop of water dribble lazily down her chin, and felt oddly envious of the way it caressed the smooth skin of Glinda’s throat…

“I quite missed you, Lady Glinda,” Elphie blurted before she could stop the words from betraying her callous surface. Her thumb reached out to swipe the tantalizing water droplet from Glinda’s pale throat. It burned, and not only because of her aversion to water. She felt Glinda’s throat bob under the pad of her thumb as she swallowed. “Our…banter, I mean,” she corrected.

“Hm,” Glinda hummed contentedly. Her posture straightened and her legs clamped together as she used all of her remaining strength to keep her eyes fixed on Elphaba and not flutter closed under the ticklish touch of her thumb. Surprisingly, Glinda, too, had been quite devoid of touch. “And I you,” she whispered. Her focus was not strong enough for her voice to not crack with emotion. 

“Elphie, what happened to us?” Glinda leaned in to Elphie’s touch and thought of the nights at Shiz and on the road to the Emerald City that they spent wrapped up in each other. 

“Nothing happened. We are both perfectly fine. You are a sorceress married to a rich nobleman, just like you wanted, and I’m a lonely witch, just like I was meant to be.”

“You need not banish yourself to a lonely life.”

“I have not done so on purpose. Besides, I like being alone. There is clandestine power in introversion, you know.”

“No one really likes being alone, and you’re not. You have a lovely boy, Fiyero’s extended family to break bread with, a Grimmerie, and an…eccentric menagerie of creatures to help you continue your research and fulfill your days. There are others who cared for you once, you know, who would have you back in their life. You need not make this hermitage tragic.”

Elphie snorted. “And who might now care for the green witch of the west, the hermit in her faraway tower, pray tell, Lady Glinda?”

Glinda bristled, affronted. “Well, me, for one. And Crope, Tibbett… how about our little friend Boq, and his wife Milla? I hear they settled on a lovely farm in Munchkinland.” 

“Tibbett is dead,” Elphaba spat. 

“What?”

“I was in the mauntery’s hospital when he passed. There are fewer and fewer who would care for me.”

“Oh, Oz. Well I’m very sorry to hear that, but also how very like you to rudely dash directly into morbidity and ignore everything else I’ve said to you. The bits about people caring for you, and all that. The plenty of people that are still here.”

“You say a lot of things to me, I can’t possibly remember them all.”

“Has your mind been afflicted by mold in this dank tower of yours? I recall you being slated for the top of our class, if you had stayed, that is. Your memory fails you now, though?” 

Glinda’s face was reddening in frustration. She feared her eye was developing a slight twitch. Parched, she lifted her water glass to her lips only to realize it was empty.

“You are still on about me not staying at Shiz, are you?” Elphie said. “I had more important things to attend to in the Emerald City.” 

“Such as?”

“I can’t tell you that. No, I can’t.” Elphaba shook her head morosely. They had killed Fiyero for knowing what she had done—or rather, what she was supposed to have done—for the rebellion. The task remained incomplete indefinitely. She couldn’t risk Glinda’s life too, not when they were both already closely connected to the nefarious spellwork of that wretched Madame Morrible. Elphie’s body tightened with hatred for the old woman that still walked freely through Oz, an injustice that she hadn’t remedied.

“You can, and you will,” insisted Glinda. “For I’ve traveled for weeks over treacherous terrain just to hear the tale, and I even wore this ridiculous gown of all things.”

“Your wardrobe is your choice. Don’t blame me for the failures of your own decision making.”

“Stop avoiding the point. And stop deflecting my questions with sarcasm or more questions. You’re insufferable. Be serious, Miss Elphaba. We aren’t students anymore. I wish…” Glinda inhaled courage and quickly said “I wish to know you again. So much has transpired, and me without you.”

Elphaba’s brows reached her hairline. Something in her faltered, and Glinda noticed the unease flash across her face. 

“I’m quite lonely myself, these days,” Glinda admitted. 

“What about Sir Chuffrey?”

“What about him? My husband is old, darling. He has wealth, yes. But he hasn’t got much else going for him, not in terms of humor nor personality. Perhaps I came here knowing he was too frail to follow.” Glinda smacked her mouth closed with her own hand at the admission, and Elphaba honest-to-Lurline giggled. 

“Why, Miss Elphaba, did you just laugh?” Glinda’s eyes darted to the toothy smile, which Elphaba was comically attempting to wipe from her face by replacing it with various strained and unnatural grimaces. Glinda never noticed how dark green those lips were. Had they gotten darker since Shiz, darker than conifer leaves, from sun and wind? Glinda couldn’t help but smile in return. 

“I did not laugh. I do not laugh.”

“And who is the terrible liar now, hm?” Glinda poked her between the ribs and Elphie nearly jumped atop her lap in surprise, which made them both laugh. 

“Do you poke and prod your lord husband so?” Elphaba asked, smirking. 

“I do not. He would probably keel over and die.” Glinda forced her mouth closed again, not before a giggle escaped her lips. 

And then, something quite peculiar happened. Once she had started, Elphaba could not stop laughing. She laughed so hard that she had to clutch her ribs lest her stomach jump out her chest. She leaned forward and laughed into Glinda’s lap. 

“Lady Glinda,” she managed, “how awful!” 

“It is, isn’t it?”

“The Sisters were right. How dreadful for you that it is this green hermit’s company you prefer, and here you are!”

“Here I am. Though it’s anything but dreadful.”

The laughter settled and was replaced with a warmth that neither woman had felt for quite some time. Elphaba sighed, and turned to really look at her friend. Her blush mixed with salt from tears. A stray golden curl poked out from her updo, but Elphaba resisted the girlish urge to fix it, her old self from Shiz attempting to bubble up from underneath her time-hardened exterior. 

“I can’t remember the last time I laughed. Or felt anything quite so good at all. Thank you, Galinda.” 

“Oh, I’m ever so happy to oblige, Elphie. Although I’d like to find other ways to make you feel good that don’t disparage my husband’s character, in the future.”

“...In the future?” Elphie asked, hesitant, the innuendo lost on her. She didn’t believe anyone had considered her future before. Even living with Fiyero had a certain timeline to it, as he would’ve returned to his family if Elphaba hadn’t gotten him killed before he had the chance. She wasn’t even quite sure herself what she planned for her future if Sarima ever granted her retribution or forgiveness for her sins. She only imagined herself suffocating beneath the soil, in the dark. Elphie always thought that death would bring her peace, but perhaps a life with Glinda could be joyous, if she dared to let herself imagine such things.

“Yes, well, the near future at least. For I’ve traveled all this time, and I’m quite tired. I doubt I will be ready for the return trip before winter sets in.” Glinda grinned, a bit mischievously. Perhaps she had planned to get stuck at Kiamo Ko for a season, if she did indeed find the green woman. If not, her visit could be disguised as a simple charity mission of a friend checking in on a friend’s widow in a less wealthy part of Oz, with the added bonus of not suffering her husband’s company. 

“You mean to stay for half a year until the mountains thaw,” gasped Elphaba.

“I wouldn’t say I meant to, I’d say that perhaps I did not consider the timing. The winters do not come so early nor so aggressively in Gillikin as they do here. A simple oversight on my part.”

Elphaba gaped at the woman. She was beginning to lose track of how often she’d made her forget to speak eloquently, if at all. 

“First thing’s first. Elphie, now that we’ve established we are still friends, I simply must change out of these travel-worn dresses.”

Elphaba gaped even further at Glinda. Considering the muddy autumnal conditions, her gown was pristinely white, practically sparkling in the firelight. She wondered if someone had physically carried her into the castle so as not to dirty her equally white shoes. With effort, she remembered to close her mouth.

“Er… Of course. I shall see to it that your trunks are brought into the castle with haste. Are you sure you intend to stay…here?”

“If you mean to ask if I’m sure about staying at Kiamo Ko, the answer is yes. If you mean to ask if I’m sure about staying in this particular tower with you, the answer is also yes. Assuming that that will be alright with you and our hosts.” 

“Very well. It is only logical, as space in the castle is somewhat limited, and the bed sleeps two.”

“Oh! But what about Liir? I hardly wish to displace him. Perhaps we can have an extra bed shipped for me. Silk from the Kells is closer to here than to Gillikin, it would only take two weeks, three, four at most.”

“Liir?”

“Elphie, I beg you not to tell me that your son does not share your chambers with you.”

“It’s not my business where the boy does or doesn’t sleep. I’ve heard he sleeps with the other children, and he doesn’t complain. And he isn’t my son.”

“Well, my answer is solidified then. I have my work cut out for me here. I do so love a project!” 

“I didn’t ask to be your project.”

“Nor would you. That’s why it’s so good of me to come!” Glinda practically sang. She placed her hand on Elphie’s knee and squeezed. The action sent electricity zapping through Elphaba’s body in radiating waves.

“And I always did want a child!”

“If Liir isn’t mine he’s certainly not yours.”

“If Liir isn’t yours then what’s to say he isn’t mine, hm?” 

“Point well made.”

“Thank you.”

“You didn’t have children, then?”

“Does this figure suggest I did?” Glinda posed. 

“Does mine?”

Glinda sighed. “No, Elphie, I didn’t have children. Not for lack of trying, in the beginning. But Sir Chuffrey’s stamina has quite…dwindled—don’t laugh, Elphie—and I grew quite bored. Now I find my joy in traveling.” 

“Well, I say it’s a shame that you did not get what you wanted.”

“Perhaps I am getting what I wanted. Perhaps it’s just a little later than I intended.” 

“If you’ve come here to steal Liir from me, I shall hex you.”

“Ha! So you admit he is yours?”

“That’s not what I-

“You said it, not me. But that is not my intent, Miss Elphaba. The boy’s presence is simply an added bonus to our arrangement of me spending time here. But if you continue to treat him like castle vermin, perhaps I shall be the one to hex you.”

“Hm. You seem too goodly for hexes.”

“I’ll have you know my thoughts are not all goodly, Miss Elphaba.”

“I quite remember from the last time we were together, Lady Glinda,” Elphaba waggled her eyebrows suggestively, which pulled a laugh from Glinda. It was a rare joy when Elphie entertained the hidden meaning behind her flirtatious implications.

“So you do remember your devotion to me, then. How interesting.” She scooted closer to the other woman. 

“Interesting, indeed.”

The door opened again, this time with two sisters lugging a massive pink trunk through the door. They dropped it with a loud thunk the moment they struggled through the threshold, one screeching as the other relinquished it too early and nearly squashed her toes. Instead of jumping away from each other, the women on the sofa leaned slightly forward and into each other as if hiding a secret, if anyone other than Chistery cared to notice. 

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Glinda!” the taller sister said breathily. Elphaba cursed the Unnamed God. This was sister Five. She had been wrong earlier. 

“How do you do?”

“Forgive us, Lady Glinda, the rest of your belongings will be up before long” said the shorter one. Three. 

“I thank you, Sisters!” Glinda replied “What gracious hosts, and strong lively women to carry such a burden!” 

Three blushed and averted her eyes. 

“Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes, if you and Auntie care to make your way down.” Five looked between the two women and curtsied clumsily. 

The two sisters dashed back down the stairs with odd glances behind their shoulders. 

After Glinda changed into something more comfortable, although still much more elegant and with many more gemstones than Kiamo Ko deserved, dinner itself passed without much fanfare. Lady Glinda, after all, was a seasoned socialite. She made polite talk with Sarima and each sister and even took care to engage with Nor and Liir, all of whom looked at her with stars in their eyes. She spoke of her husband and her political engagements without causing offense to any potential supporters of the Wizard (of which there were none, if Elphaba had anything to say about it). She told them of her travels. Elphaba sat by her side and ate her vegetables in contented silence. She quietly stole some of Liir’s broccoli while they impolitely stuck out their tongues at each other, and Glinda nearly as quietly dumped her own broccoli onto Liir’s plate with a chastising glare in Elphaba’s direction. 

The sisters sang praises to Lady Glinda, many of which also included a jab at Elphaba, who filed each insult away quietly into the extended catalogue of her earthly punishments.

“We’ve been simply dying for news of the world from someone with class,” Two droned.

“And she has a way with the children as well, how refreshing! She’ll help make them little Princes and Princesses yet!” Three chimed, blushing again.

“Lady Glinda, are you sure you want to sleep in Auntie Guest’s towers? My room may be much more comfortable,” added Four, her crooked brow tilting strangely.

“She can stay in my room!” Nor pleaded.

“Hush, Nor.” Sarima pointed her fork at her daughter, who shrank back. 

“I didn’t know Auntie had such distinguished friends!” said Five.

Glinda preened slightly at all the praise and her cheeks flushed from more than just the wine. “Well, thank you all, you’re too kind. Elphie and I happen to be the best of friends, so my current accommodations will be more than fine.” 

“And you say you were both friends with our dear Fiyero?” Sarima asked quietly. The other sisters also quieted at the mention of the late prince. Nor and Liir, who had no memory of Fiyero and held no grief for him, continued noisily chewing their food. Elphaba stiffened. 

“Why, yes. Didn’t Elphaba mention it?” Glinda looked sideways at the green woman, who was suddenly very invested in rearranging a small pile of fermented cabbage on her plate.

Sarima took a hefty sip of wine and wiped her palms on a cloth napkin. “Fiyero mentioned you, of course, Lady Glinda, when he spoke of Shiz. But I don’t believe Auntie–er, Miss Elphaba–ever did, so we could hardly make the connection. Not that you aren’t welcome, of course, it was just quite the surprise for our quiet little castle when you arrived.” 

“Ah.” Glinda’s eyes remained bright but her face fell ever so slightly, which Elphie would have noticed if she weren’t so extraordinarily busy swirling her vegetables around with suddenly impassioned artistic vision.

“My Lady, may I please have the butter?” Liir butted in, his mouth full. Killyjoy sat at his feet waiting patiently for inevitable crumbs. 

“Oh, of course, darling boy!” Glinda’s smile returned, and that was the end of the conversation. 

Elphaba rolled her eyes, seeing that the butter dish was perfectly equidistant from Liir and Glinda, and the boy wanted an excuse for the blonde’s attention to return to him. Still, Elphie, surprisingly, did not seem to mind the way Glinda’s slender arm brushed against her as she reached across her body to appease Liir. Her frustration melted away.

Dessert arrived–baked bites of butternut squash with dates and cinnamon–and the table quieted for several minutes. More small talk ensued after that until Glinda excused herself and Elphaba by proxy to retire shortly thereafter. 

Elphie retraced their steps to the tower with Glinda in tow. She groaned as she walked into her chambers. Servants had finished carting Lady Glinda’s trunks, chests, baskets, and other belongings up the tower stairs but left everything strewn about in haphazard piles. Although Elphaba’s room may have looked messy to an outsider, everything did indeed have its place. The location of every open book, every dust bunny to be swept, every herb to be strung up or ground was precisely tucked away in the catalogue of her mind. Lady Glinda’s presence had disturbed the order of her things and brought chaos to the forefront in more than one way.

Chistery sat beside one of the smaller chests pulling out glass vials and jars of various sizes, colors, and contents. He held each one up to the moonlight and screeched either in anger or delight; it was difficult to differentiate. 

“It’s like an Oz-forsaken circus in here,” Elphaba mumbled. Then, louder: “Put Glinda’s things down, please, Chistery! I know you have more manners than an animal.”

Chistery hissed at her. 

“Words, please.”

“Manners. Missing. Mean. Misses.”

“Yes, I know I’m simply awful, aren’t I?” 

Chistery, not agreeing that his caretaker was awful but certainly not willing to admit it, repeated “Manners” and promptly swung out the tower window into the night with one of Glinda’s perfumes in tow and a disgruntled monkey noise that sounded like “hrngph”. Elphaba was happy that at least he had freedom, and he was more than likely to return to her tower the next time he got hungry or bored. She turned, sighing, to face Glinda. 

“I’m sorry about your perfume, he—Glinda, are you alright?” 

Lady Glinda, who watched Elphie and Chistery bemusedly, was sprawled out on the chaise again, looking very pale and very small. Elphie was by her side in an instant and sat on her knees in front of the other woman. “What’s the matter? Is it really so bad?” 

“No, nothing’s the matter, Elphie. I’m just slightly chilled, that’s all.” With a wave of her hand, the fire roared back to life. Orange light flickered over Glinda’s features and emphasized the shadows beneath her eyes. The heat reached them a beat later.

“Better?” Elphie asked. 

“No,” she sighed, lobbing the back of her hand against her forehead and closing her eyes. 

“What else is the matter?”

Glinda opened her eyes and gazed into Elphaba’s. They were startlingly close, their faces nearly even, Glinda with her head propped on a throw pillow and Elphaba on her knees and leaning forward. Her stoicism faltered as quickly as the reflection of the moving flames in Elphaba’s eyes. Orange, green, and impossibly widened black pupils that pulled desire into Glinda’s core to mingle with the sadness. 

“Elphie, in all this time, did you even think of me?” Glinda whispered. 

Elphaba drew back, affronted. “Of course I did. You were the only friend I ever had, truly.”

“You never mentioned me, though. They said so. At dinner.” 

“Glinda, I didn’t even tell Sarima and the sisters my name when I arrived here. That’s why I’m Auntie now. I could hardly talk about things I really care about.” 

“Things you really care about?” Glinda propped her head up on her hand, abandoning the worn pillow, and angled her body to the side. Her skirts billowed around her and filled the entire sofa. Hope bloomed in her chest and spread to her face.

“Lady Glinda, are you trying to get me to say that I still care for you?” A smile spread slowly across Elphaba’s features. Her green skin in the firelight looked brown, and Glinda thought suddenly of Liir, and how beautiful they both were.

“Of course not, Miss Elphaba. However, if you were to say you did care for me, after all, I would not be disappointed in the slightest.” 

“I see.” 

“I thought of you every day,” Glinda whispered so quietly that Elphaba feared she may be going insane. She inched further forward.

“Certainly not every day.”

“Certainly not not. I spoke of you, as well. Sir Chuffrey indubitably allowed me to come here so I would stop bothering his deafening old ears with talk of you.” 

Elphie laughed softly. “I hardly believe you had anything flattering to say of me. What, did you want to make sure I was still green? Still hyperfixated on my books and my–”

Elphaba was cut off from speaking her doubts and insecurities when Glinda leaned forward until their lips crashed together bruisingly. She was catapulted backwards in time twelve years when she had seen Glinda last and told her to hold out and kissed her in a similarly desperate manner. They were the same people, but twelve years of loneliness and separation fueled them. A crack in her heart seemed to swell shut, and she couldn’t help but open for Glinda, who sat up and clasped green cheeks in her hands for more purchase to swipe her tongue wantonly into the other woman’s mouth. Elphaba rose on her knees and pushed back into Glinda with equal force in a dance of power and longing. When a strange garbled noise escaped Glinda’s throat with the last of her poise, Elphie pulled away so quickly that Glinda nearly toppled over and had to steady herself on Elphie’s shoulders. They looked into each other's eyes for a long moment, searching one another for questions and answers, until the fire crackled and brought them back to reality.

“Believe me now,” Glinda husked, and Elphaba wasn’t sure if it was a question or a command.

Elphaba did not fully believe Glinda. She knew what loneliness could do to a person, and she knew that Glinda simply did not enjoy being alone. She also knew–based on the fact that Glinda had melded into her every night on their journey to the Emerald City and kissed the crook of her neck and allowed her hands to roam to other places–that Glinda was not shy of physical affection. But, as unbelievable as it all was, Elphaba could not deny that her body seemed to react to Glinda’s touch, to respond to it as if she, too, craved it. Elphaba logicked that Glinda could very well be lying or depraved, but, in that moment, she did not care. Perhaps she would not deny herself kissing Glinda again, and again, and again, until she was not only engaging in a selfish act but was a selfish and disgusting woman to her very core. She had done the same with Fiyero, so why not her former roommate? She grimaced at the thought.

“You don’t believe me,” Glinda said as she watched Elphaba’s thoughts flicker over her face between her hands. “I thought of you every day. For twelve years. I thought of when you kissed me, and I waited for you. I waited, Elphaba, and you never came back. I cared for Nessa. I finished school, and you weren’t there. I missed you.”

Elphaba’s ears buzzed as she suffocated on a strange concoction of praise and desire and guilt and denial. The Lady Glinda’s eyes searched her face through it all, and Elphaba’s heart raced in fear of the extent of her unrealized devotion.

“Say something,” Glinda whispered, caressing her thumbs over Elphie’s high cheekbones and resting her forehead against the other woman until their noses brushed. 

Elphaba cursed the Unnamed God. The breath of her curse tickled Lady Glinda’s lips.

“Say anything else please, dearest, it always was a bit unclear when you spoke curses to a god neither of us believes in.” 

“I’m…sorry,” was all Elphie managed. The apology came out more real than the first apology she made to Glinda and was, therefore, broken.

“I forgive you,” Glinda whispered, framing her face and placing a tender kiss to the corner of Elphaba’s mouth.

Elphaba Thropp cried out in despair then, buried her face into Glinda’s hands and closed her eyes. Those three words were the only things that she had ever truly desired in her life, and Glinda had gifted them to her. She wished her mother would forgive her for being born green. She wished her father would forgive her for not believing in the Unnamed God. She wished her siblings would forgive her for being insufferable and indecisive. She wished Doctor Dillamond could forgive her for not bringing his murderer to justice. She wished Fiyero and his family could forgive her for getting him killed. She wished Liir could forgive her for not allowing herself to be a mother. 

“I forgive you,” Glinda whispered again, carefully placing a kiss to the other corner of her mouth. Heat swept over her. Elphaba thought she may melt. 

She hadn’t known that she wished Glinda would forgive her for disappearing, for only having the courage to kiss her before fleeing, but she needed it now more than air. She had always said that once Sarima granted her forgiveness, her purpose would be fulfilled. She would move on with her life, whether by traveling to the next place or by flinging herself out of the tower window in one last final act, for Elphaba Thropp was never purposeless nor mundane. Perhaps she would have left for Gillikin and been the one to seek Glinda out, in the end. Every scenario of what she could have done, who she could have been, flashed through her mind in strange universes in which she had been forgiven.

“I forgive you,” said Glinda with a more forceful peck on her forehead. Elphaba was brought back to the current universe in which Lady Glinda the Good had come to set her free. The last things she saw were Glinda’s eyes glistening in the firelight before the room was consumed by nothingness. 

~~~~~~~

Six nights later, when Elphaba opened her eyes once more, her first two thoughts regarded her level of thirst and her level of physical discomfort. Something weighed her down, but her neck was too stiff to lift her head and properly chastise whomever or whatever it was. She cried out, fearing that her last sight would be of the mildewy ceiling of her tower at Kiamo Ko as she lay paralyzed beneath it.

“Elphie!” someone hissed. Her arm moved against her will by a warm presence that was holding tightly to her hand, and she winced. The dull sight of wood and stone and mold and dust was replaced with an all-encompassing beautiful, glowing, angelic face that hovered above her own. For a moment, she considered that she was dead. The fact that there was an angel with her meant that she did, perhaps, have an immortal soul after all of her doubting. 

“Glinda!” Elphie remembered, although no sound besides a hoarse moan actually escaped her throat. 

“Elphie, oh, Elphie! You’re awake!” Glinda let go of her hand and flung her entire body across Elphaba’s flat form.

“Oof!” Glinda was not a heavy woman, but Elphaba’s joints still burned from disuse. The oxygen in her body felt stale, and her skin felt as mildewy as the damp stones in the autumn chill. 

Glinda, long skirt be damned, suddenly straddled Elphie and peppered her face with aggressive kisses and frantic touches.

“Glinda!” she tried again, and it came out in the form of an anguished croak. 

Glinda paused her affection to enlist Liir to her cause of assaulting Elphaba’s senses. “Liiry, wake up, fetch us some water! Quickly darling!” she shouted over her shoulder.

A weight was lifted from Elphaba’s feet. Liir–or maybe Killyjoy, or maybe both–must have been curled up there. Color returned to Elphaba’s face as her circulation was reestablished and as her discomfort and embarrassment grew from nothingness. How long had she been out cold with a boy sleeping at her feet and Lady Glinda holding her hand and kissing her? 

Liir appeared at Elphaba’s side, green eyes wide, brows raised. Elphaba had the sudden realization that she had never looked into Liir’s eyes long enough to recognize his irises were the exact shade of green as her own. Bile rose in her throat, and she sat up painfully to swallow it down without choking. Glinda lifted her hips only enough to allow the action, then settled back into her lap.

Glinda took a jug from a fear-frozen Liir and raised it to Elphie’s lips. She drank greedily until she sputtered and her chin burned from the water dripping from it. Glinda wiped her wet chin with her sleeve as if the action were ordinary. Liir hovered beside her anxiously.

“Say something, Elphie!” Glinda fretted. She passed the jug back to Liir, who clutched it as if it were the only thing tethering him to the world, and she braced her hands on Elphie’s shoulders.

Elphie cleared her throat and hoped that the water had lubricated her throat enough to speak. The first thing she said, in typical Elphaba fashion, was: “You’re always telling me what to do.”  

Glinda’s mouth opened, then closed. She sat back, still straddling Elphaba’s hips in a way that made the green witch squirm.

“And you’re cutting off my circulation,” Elphie lied matter-of-factly. (Her circulation was very much intact, as evidenced by the warm blood pounding beneath her face and her center.)

“Oh!” Glinda breathed, and slid as gracefully as one can slide off of her friend’s lap, holding onto Liir for support. Elphie’s head fell against her headboard with a sigh.

“What happened?” she asked while attempting to roll stiffness from her neck, hands, and feet.

“I was hoping you’d care to tell me,” said Glinda sternly, still clutching Liir, who was still clutching the empty water jug. The sight of Glinda cradling Liir pulled something so tight in her chest that she feared her heartstrings may snap. She rested her hand against her breast to count the crescendoing thrums of her heart pumping her blood.

“We were just talking,” Glinda continued, “and suddenly you had passed out! At first I thought it was one of your pranks, like a possum faking death so that I’d leave you alone, but you wouldn’t wake, and you wouldn’t wake for days!” 

Memories flooded Elphaba’s senses. Glinda’s lips against her own. The warmth of the fire. The smell of cinnamon on her breath. The taste of cinnamon on Glinda’s. The sound of those three little words reaching her ears… I forgive you.

Elphaba gasped. Glinda and Liir both jumped in surprise. 

“Glinda…you…I’m…forgiven?” Elphie stuttered.

“Of course you are forgiven, Elphie, but I’ll retract it at once if you continue to frighten us so! You erode my patience, dear! And Liir was worried sick!”

“Liir?” Elphaba blinked up at the boy. He leaned further into Glinda, who squeezed his shoulder. She had never wondered if Liir cared for her. It dawned on her as the boy looked down at her with such fear in his green eyes that, besides the general suffering of being alive, she’d been the only constant in his entire life, and he had been her only constant since Fiyero’s death. She no longer envisioned a life without him. He was her Liir. 

“I’m sorry,” Elphie blurted. And she meant it. When she opened her arms, Liir scrambled into them and buried himself into her with a shaky exhale. The water jug rolled to the floor, and Glinda took it and, for once, made a wordless retreat from the room. 

Glinda returned breathless a few hundred clock ticks later with a tray full of treats from the week’s dinners. The cook was asleep, as it was the middle of the night, so Glinda made do with leftovers. She was not known for her cooking, mainly because she’d always had someone else to do it for her. Liir and Elphaba, both pairs of green eyes hidden by salty eyelids, remained frozen in time. 

Glinda set down the tray on the nightstand as gently as possible, but Elphaba’s eyelids cracked open. For someone that had gone into several coma-like states in her life, she was otherwise a remarkably light sleeper, always attuned to every subtle change in her surroundings. 

Their eyes met, and Glinda cleared anxiety from her throat. 

“How long was I out?” Elphie whispered. Liir stayed, enjoying the comforting rumbling of Elphie’s voice echoing in her chest against his ear. 

“This is the sixth night into the seventh day.”

“Six nights and seven days…”

“Here. You must eat something.”

“Glinda, I’m sorry…I seem to have a habit of going unconscious when something…life-altering happens.” 

“Life altering?”

“It happened before. When Fiyero…” she struggled to speak of what happened to Fiyero. “When I found Fiyero was gone, I walked to the nearest Mauntery. I don’t remember anything that happened to me after that. It seems I am unable to cope with certain things. I was unconscious for over a year, so they told me. I didn’t even remember…” 

She squeezed her eyes shut and squeezed Liir against her breast.

“And this time?” Glinda prodded, needing to fill the insatiable anxiety that the cause of Elphie’s malady was prompted by something she had said or done, though it would hopefully never be something as dramatic as being beaten to death.

“This time…was because of you. You forgave me, Glinda. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Thank you.”

Glinda smiled weakly, relief washing over her. “Well, I shan’t be doing so again if it’s going to send you into unreachable alternate planes for days or, Lurline forbid, months at a time.”

Elphaba chuckled, and the act tired her. She supposed she did feel like she hadn’t eaten in six days. Glinda noticed the conflicting hunger in her eyes and the boy on her chest and promptly began dropping pieces of cheese and bread and pickled vegetables into Elphie’s mouth as if she were feeding a baby bird who was too new to this world to yet leave the nest. 

“You’re alright,” Glinda cooed between bites. 

“I suppose I am.” Elphaba smiled in answer, shoving her stubbornness aside to accept bits of food with humble gratitude instead, not willing to let go of Liir yet.

When Elphaba was fully satiated according to Glinda’s standards, Glinda straightened and said, in her most serious of voices: “Bath time, Liir.” 

Liir groaned but obeyed, slowly pushing himself off of Elphie with a soft grunt. He stood beside her, suddenly unsure of himself in that hesitant way that young boys often are but try to conceal. Shyly, he kissed her hand and immediately skipped from the room.

“I haven’t seen him skip all week,” Glinda said fondly after he had shut the door.

“Thank you for taking care of him. He listens to you.” 

“He does, because I love him, because I love you.”

And then, Glinda was on top of Elphaba once more, and this time she did not slide fully off of her but fully into her, until Elphaba was the one that was cradled until boneless and sent off to the bath.

~~~~~~~

Elphaba lay awake with Glinda’s arms wrapped around her waist and nose buried into the back of her neck. The other woman’s body molded perfectly into Elphaba’s back, and her pink lips were parted enough to allow her sleep-even breaths to tickle Elphaba as they breezed through her soft hairs. It was difficult to sleep when she had been in a sleep state for nearly a full week, but she was loath to move even to stretch lest she disturb Glinda or the moment. The cold air of the drafty castle made Elphaba smile to herself and the moon, for it meant that winter had nearly arrived and Glinda would be forced to stay at Kiamo Ko at least until spring. Whether by Glinda’s design or not, she decided that it was perfectly reasonable and economical to have a body to help warm her during the long, snowy nights.

Her thoughts were interrupted by creaking door hinges and the eerie padding of little feet thumping on the stone floor.

“Chistery?” 

There was no answer.

“Liir?” she whispered into the dark. She was not unaccustomed to the boy lurking about the castle at night, as if he were a lost ghost. Elphaba sleepwalked as a child, so she supposed Liir could be doing the same.

The boy appeared next to the bed, timidly glancing up at Lady Glinda and Auntie Guest tangled in their nightgowns. His green eyes flashed and his dark hair glowed blue in the light of the moon, and for a moment, Elphie saw Fiyero in his face.

She opened her arms, and the boy climbed into them, nestling in. His hair was still slightly damp from his bath, and he smelled of goat milk and honey and something unmistakably Liir. She breathed him in. The smell of Liir in combination with the feel of Glinda at her back made Elphaba feel drunk. It was nothing to get emotional over, just the chemical reaction one experiences when surrounded by the memory and the physical presence of everyone they’ve ever loved.

“It’s alright, my boy. Liir. Mama’s got you,” she whispered into his hair, and held him close. As her arms closed around her son, she felt Glinda curl further into her.

She thought of death then. Not of dying to escape her torment of a failed life without forgiveness, but dying because she feared she would never feel so whole or happy as in that moment, with a woman that loved her at her back and her son in her arms. Not flinging herself from the snowy mountaintop, but falling asleep warm and satiated.

Lady Glinda had given her everything, had revived her, had breathed her crisp, fiery life into something stagnant and green and rotten, and Elphaba planned to return the favor for every day that the other woman would stay, to peel away Glinda’s layers until their souls were fully exposed, if only to remain drunk on this feeling for the rest of her sorry life. Only, this time, she would not leave, and if she had to kiss Glinda goodbye, it would always be with the intention to return.