Chapter Text
The first time Glinda watched something burn had been when she accidentally knocked over her lamp when she was six years old. It had fallen onto her desk and set fire to one of her schoolbooks. Her momsicle had rushed in at her screaming and put it out before it could spread, but the damage had been done. Her book was damaged, beyond repair and she had cried all night, needing to be comforted by her parents.
She’d been careful with fire ever since.
The second time was right after the melting when the Munchkins celebrated the death of the only friend that ever mattered to Glinda. She hadn’t shed a tear then. They burned away behind her eyes, her chest a strange mixture of hollowness and pain, but not a single tear slid down her cheeks. What it said about her, she didn’t know.
That night, she went back to her room in the Emerald Palace, carefully going through her nightly routine, setting down the hat next to her tiara and curled up in bed, silent tears leaking out of her eyes. Not a single soul heard her and she preferred it that way.
The anniversary of Elphaba Thropp’s death was already hard enough without the effigy, the image she put on especially exhausting on such days. She hadn’t thought setting fire to the cruel image of her friend would become a regular thing, much less something to celebrate peace throughout Oz.
They were raucous occasions where she did what she did best, smiled, gave a speech she barely meant, and allowed praise to wash over her like she deserved it. The worst part was she liked the praise too much to let it go and she hated herself for it.
Today marked the second anniversary of the witch’s death and Glinda found herself running through the same motions again. Landing on a stage, her bubble dissipating around her, she walked up to the mic at the front of the stage, steeling herself for what was about to come.
The crowd quieted down when she cleared her throat. The sun beat down on her. Too bright, the sky too pleasant, the breeze too gentle on such a horrendible day. Everything felt wrong. Then again, everything always felt wrong at such events.
A speech. One she had rehearsed multiple times to avoid any disasters. All she needed to do was say it and get things done with.
“Fellow Ozians,” she greeted. “Today is a momentous day! One that represents hope and new beginnings. On this day, two years ago, good triumphed over evil.” She took a sharp breath before the next words exited her mouth, more breathy than she would have liked them to be. “Two years ago, the Wicked Witch of the West died.”
Deafening applause and cheers burst out, rippling through the crowd, each sound adding to the overwhelming pain in Glinda’s chest.
Had it really been two years? Two years since she lost her. It both felt like an eternity and like seconds. She could still hear Elphaba’s screams as she melted. Glinda was hiding behind the curtain unable to do anything while Elphaba perished. Dorothy may have been the one to throw the bucket, but Glinda was responsible for her death.
And here she was now, making a spectacle of it.
“But I would like you all, not to focus on the death, but what this day represents. Ever since the great drought, Animals have been facing discrimination throughout Oz and until two years ago, there were many anti Animal laws. I am pleased to say that for two years, these laws have been abolished and we are seeing continued reintegration of Animals into Ozian society.”
The response to this was much more muted than Glinda would have liked it to be. Nevertheless, Glinda continued because she was proud of it. This was the one thing that Glinda had done right, the one thing that almost made her feel worthy of her title. Almost.
She continued about the changes, rambled on about the Animals she’d met and talked to, and the speech therapy programs throughout Oz.
As her speech neared its end, she heard it. The telltale rumbling as the large cart wheeled out a familiar model. Her eyes fell upon the green face, her throat bobbing. Three boards with painted words that Glinda was quite familiar with were pinned to the witch’s chest.
‘KILL THE WITCH’
She remembered the phrase from long before Elphaba’s death. When the Wicked Witch of the West started gaining traction in the news, the words started appearing on newspapers, wanted posters, and were graffitied on buildings and walls. Glinda couldn’t go anywhere without seeing or hearing the damn words. It seemed like some cruel joke that the words would follow her, even after Elphaba’s death.
A torch was handed to her and she swiftly threw it at the effigy. Flames immediately climbed up the wicker body. The fire made Glinda’s eyes sting or at least that was what she told herself. Deep down she knew it didn’t really have to do with the fire and had everything to do with the woman the burning effigy represented.
She retreated back to her mic, uttering a quick. “Thank you for coming out today. I really must get going. So much to do and so little time.”
She didn’t wait around to see if they heard her or to check their reactions.
She didn’t head back to the palace immediately, instead choosing to float westward. Once she was out of the city’s limits, the horizon of Oz spreading out below her dauntingly, silent tears leaked out of her eyes.
Tears soon turned to sobs, loud and senseless in a way Glinda hadn’t allowed herself to be in years. For the first time since the Wicked Witch’s death, since Elphie’s death, she cried properly, she mourned what she had lost and she mourned what could have been.
Elphaba Thropp was dead and had been for two years now. The woman she loved was gone and it was Glinda’s fault.
***
“Your Goodness,” one of her maidens scrambled to meet her when she reached her room. “where were you?”
“Taking care of some business, dear.” Glinda said casually, hoping she couldn’t see the tear tracks or the redness of Glinda’s eyes. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
“Well yes, but-”
“Whatever you have to say can wait till tomorrow,” Glinda cut in airily. “It’s been a long day and I would like to be alone.”
There were a few beats of silence before a resigned, “Yes, your Goodness.”
Glinda hummed.
“Would you like us to help you get ready for the night?”
“No need,” she waved them away. “I would like to be alone for today. I’m sure I could manage on my own.”
“Yes, your goodness.” Glinda waited until the sound of the door closing indicated Grace had left and sank into her chair, her tiredness catching up to her.
She hated how old everything made her feel nowadays. She was twenty seven, for Lurline’s sake!
Easing her aching feet out of her high heels, Glinda made her way to the large bathroom. She caught sight of herself in the mirror.
Oz, she looked terrible.
Her makeup was smudged, tear tracks running their way through her face. Her hair was frizzy at the edges, and her eyes looked deep and sunken, too tired for her own good.
She quickly settled into her nightly routine, struggling with it. She usually had at least 3 maidens helping her with it after all.
Once she was comfortably dressed in her nightgown, she brought out a familiar black hat. It all seemed so strange now. The hat had originally belonged to her, gifted to her by her grandmother. Despite what she may have said to Pfannee and Shenshen, she genuinely did like the ugly old thing. She wouldn’t have taken the effort to bring it all the way to Shiz if she didn’t.
When it came to giving it to Elphaba, she was hesitant in giving something that meant so much to her to the green woman. It also did occur to her that she was being unkind, but how was she to know Elphaba would actually show up to the Ozdust or do such a kind thing for her. Glinda’s own friends wouldn’t have done what Elphaba did that night.
Maybe that was the final nail in the coffin of their rivalry.
When Elphaba tried giving the hat back to Glinda on the night of the Ozdust, a morose expression on her face, Glinda promptly refused, smiling softly and gifting the girl the hat.
After that night, Glinda and Elphaba were attached at the hip.
Looking at the hat now, with all its wear and tear, hastily patched up damage, it didn’t feel like it was ever Glinda’s. This hat was always Elphaba’s and it was meant to sit on long, dark hair. It was well loved, Glinda thought. Much more than Glinda ever could have loved it.
She curled up in bed, hugging the pointed hat close to her chest, grief overwhelming her, but no tears came.
She was all out of tears.
***
Glinda would admit she hadn’t paid much attention to the council’s proceedings that day. It was all so dull and unimportant. Just the usual. The Gillikinese representative complaining about the new laws in a more diplomatic manner, the requests to reinstate the Gale Force.
Glinda had been firm on both accounts. They would not be going back. She was sure about that.
Thankfully, she had a pleasant surprise waiting for her in her room.
The blue Monkey crouched on a chair, looking around uncomfortably, his wings twitching.
“Chistery!” Glinda exclaimed, surprised to see him in the palace again. He always hated it and she didn't blame him. If she could leave and never come back, she would. “What are you doing here?”
“Miss Glinda,” he grunted before shooting a wary glance at her maidens.
Glinda got the hint. “Could you leave us alone for a moment.”
The maidens threw glances at each other before leaving.
“Sorry about that.” She slid into a seat across from him elegantly. “They're always on my tail. What brings you here?”
‘How are you?’ He signed. While his speech had improved over the years, he still preferred to communicate through OSL.
During the years they'd spent together in the palace, Chistery as her personal guard, Glinda had learnt how to sign to bond with the silent Monkey. They'd grown used to each other's company after initial bitterness, and eventually, a friendship was born. It wasn’t a conventional friendship of any sort, but Glinda had come to realise that the unconventional ones were the best ones Glinda had ever had.
“I’m fine.” She smiled.
Chistery squinted at her, heterochromic eyes scanning her disbelievingly.
“How are you doing?” She said quickly before he could sign another question.
The Monkey hesitated. An unreadable expression passed over his face.
“Chistery, what is it?” Glinda asked, worry entering her voice.
‘I found something,’ blue hands moved quickly and Glinda had to struggle to keep up. Her OSL had gotten rusty over the years. ‘in Kiamo Ko.’
Glinda’s muscles tightened, her mouth going suddenly dry. “I don’t want it.” Glinda said curtly. She’d spent two years avoiding the castle like the plague. The place brought up too many memories and none of them good. Although she supposed that wasn’t entirely true.
There were the final moments she’d spent with Elphaba right before the hands of fate snatched Elphaba away from her, right before heart rendering screams tore through the stone hallways, and right before the girl had melted right before her eyes.
It was something that struck Glinda as odd. She’d seen Elphaba in the rain multiple times and it had never affected her. Elphaba had taken baths — sometimes with Glinda — at their bathroom back at Shiz. Water had never seemed to affect her until that night at Kiamo Ko.
But who was Glinda to know what was in the bucket? She had witnessed everything — heard Elphaba’s screams and seen her melt. Maybe there was something in the water. Maybe Elphaba had planned it that way. She did seem resigned and somber when she talked to Glinda. Perhaps it was all too much for Elphaba. Glinda didn’t want to consider that possibility though so she resigned it to some freak accident.
A hand landed on her shoulder and Glinda was brought back to one amber eye and one emerald eye, both filled with concern, staring at her.
“I’m alright,” she assured, smiling weakly. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I just don’t see the need to talk about that ghastly place.” An airy note crept into her voice, too reminiscent of Glinda the Good. “The past is best left in the past. I do so hate history.”
Chistery gave her an unimpressed look. ‘Glinda, this is important.’
“Can you schedule it for later? Perhaps over a cup of tea? I have so much to do now.”
“Glinda!”
Glinda jumped, startled at the Monkey’s voice, especially at that tenor.
“You must listen.” He sighed. “I found something in Kiamo Ko, something off.”
“Why were you even in that dreadful place?”
“Something has been bothering me for years now and I finally worked up the courage to go back.”
Glinda wished she could do the same.
“Do you remember that note I delivered to Elphaba?”
Glinda remembered every excruciating detail of that day. She remembered how Elphaba had reacted.
“We’ll never see his face again.”
Fiyero. Another person Glinda cared about. Another person Glinda had doomed.
“It was about Fiyero.” Glinda nodded.
“It was from the scarecrow.”
Glinda’s fingers stopped fiddling with each other, stopping mid movement. “What?”
“The scarecrow gave me the letter to deliver to Elphaba.” Chistery said.
“But- How? Why? What?” Why in Oz would the Scarecrow, one of the people — was he a person? — in Dorothy’s little group know anything about Fiyero? Why would the one who was one of the main reasons for Elphaba’s death send a note to her regarding a dead person?
“The hat was the only thing left behind of Elphaba’s. By that logic, her clothes should have also been left behind. Instead-”
“They melted with her.” Glinda finished breathily, her head spinning with what the Monkey was implying. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying,” Chistery said, the words coming out quite slowly. Or was that just Glinda’s muddled brain? “I don’t think Elphaba is really dead.”
Glinda blinked. Once. Twice.
Then her world went dark.
***
Glinda blinked her eyes open, lights momentarily blinding as she came back to consciousness. Her head throbbed terribly. She was slumped on the floor in an undignified heap. A figure loomed above her and, as her vision became clearer, she could see the Monkey’s face clearly. Brows furrowed and concerned, Chistery helped her up until she was sitting instead.
Their conversation came back to her, her gut churning as she remembered. “Nonsense.” She muttered, but her words lacked conviction.
Chistery didn’t bother to reply, hopping back onto his chair.
Glinda sighed. “Even if she was alive, what does it matter to me?”
He raised an unimpressed brow, his eyes drifting to the hat lying on Glinda’s desk and Glinda resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “It was originally mine, you know? Maybe I simply repossessed my belongings.” She huffed.
The Monkey — blast him — did not look convinced in the slightest and Glinda supposed there was no convincing him considering he’d seen her mourn Elphaba more than she’d ever allowed anyone to.
Nevertheless, she continued. “If Elphaba wanted to see me, she would have come for me.” Glinda found herself struggling to breathe as soon as the words left her mouth, as if they’d stolen all the air from her lungs. “And if I wanted to see Elphaba,” she somehow continued despite the icy tendrils squeezing at her heart. “I would have gone looking. That chapter of my life is closed.” The words seemed strange. Like that chapter of my life will ever be closed.
She helped herself up, not meeting Chistery’s eyes as she said, “Thank you for coming. It truly has been nice catching up to you.” She mindlessly busied herself with arranging her desk. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some work to get back to.”
Only after she heard the powerful flap of wings as the Monkey flew out of the windows in her room, did she allow herself to gasp in the breaths of air she so desperately needed.
Oh Elphie…
The possibility of Elphaba being alive was too hopeful to consider. No. While the hope was there, it was squashed by the much bigger feelings of inadequacy and despair occupying her. After all, if Elphaba was alive…
‘If Elphaba wanted to see me, she would have come for me.’
That was the truth, wasn’t it? She supposed that was one of the main reasons she didn’t consider the possibility. Because then that meant Elphaba didn’t want to see her again, that her words in the cornfield were true.
‘He doesn’t love you! He never did!’
That statement included Elphaba, didn’t it?
Glinda didn’t blame her. What was there to love about Glinda? Why would Elphaba return her when Glinda had so callously ruined her life.
When Elphaba had asked her to go with her back in that attic, Glinda had refused. She had made her answer clear to Elphaba then.
Never mind that if Elphaba asked her again, if she had another chance, she would get on that hideoteous broom without hesitation.
Glinda collapsed onto her bed, her chest aching.
Oh Elphie…
I miss you…
I love you.
She only wished she’d realised it sooner.
***
“Are you quite sure?” Her handmaidens were quick to cover up their scandalised expressions as soon as they heard Glinda’s order.
“Yes I am, Penelope.” She said sweetly, but her tone left no room for argument. “Inform the council of my absence today.”
“But-”
“This is not up for debate.” Glinda said sharply. “I reckon I’ll be gone for quite a while so please do not forget to inform the council.”
“Yes, your goodness.” Came three resigned voices.
Soon enough Glinda was floating away from tall emerald buildings and lively city streets into tall grass and poppy fields. Glinda admired the nostalgic beauty of the fields. They weren’t the same ones they visited back at Shiz, but they were reminiscent of happier times, times when she had everything and she took it for granted.
The sky had begun to turn golden by the time she crossed into the Vinkus, the sun dangling lower in the horizon. The Great Kells looked almost small below her and she took a moment to admire the beauty of the mountains. Perhaps she was just delaying what she had to deal with, but… it was nice.
The bubble dispelled around her and Glinda stepped out, bracing herself. The castle loomed above her, dauntingly. Glinda distinctly remembered the first and last time she had been here.
It was much easier to enter, walking across the drawbridge with no Monkeys trying to stop her. Her heels clicked against the stone, deja vu hitting her.
Glinda remembered the first and last time she was here all too well. She couldn’t forget even if she tried.
The castle was abandoned with absolutely no sign of life within the dark halls. Glinda cursed her lack of foresight in not bringing a torch or a light of some kind.
The last rays of the sun that entered through the various windows were still not enough to light the place. It was like the castle absorbed light. If it came down to it, Glinda would have to use her fickle magic. Glinda desperately hoped it wouldn’t.
She stepped over the shattered chandelier. Splintered pieces of wood and shards of glass lay everywhere.
What a mess.
It wasn’t a surprise no one had bothered to clean the place up. Ozians considered the castle haunted with the ghost of the Wicked Witch of the West or at the very least cursed by her. And the Monkeys had been quick to flee as soon as the witch had died. Even the council hadn’t tried to touch the castle. Glinda found herself thankful that the Vinkan representative hadn’t demanded for the castle to be repossessed by the Vinkus.
It was Fiyero’s. Whenever she’d asked him about his life in the Vinkus, he’d been quick to brush her off. He must have truly loved Elphaba to give her this place.
Glinda stopped abruptly, almost tripping over her feet. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t realised…
She was here.
The scene of the crime looked so incredibly mundane. It made Glinda want to scream. She spied the white curtain in the corner. It fluttered gently in the wind. There was no puddle anymore and she didn’t know whether to be glad or cry.
Maybe Chistery was wrong. Maybe Elphaba had really died and the puddle that could have been considered her corpse was now gone.
There was nothing left.
There wasn’t even anything to mark the spot where Elphaba had died. It was all gone.
Glinda didn’t know coming back here would feel so final. If this was what closure felt like, she didn’t know why so many people sought it.
She stumbled forward, not finding anything out of place in the room.
To be perfectly honest, Glinda didn’t know what she wanted to find.
Did that make her selfish?
Obviously, she should prefer it if Elphaba were alive and hopefully happy somewhere. But that meant Glinda got left behind. Again. And it meant Elphaba didn’t even trust her enough to tell her she was alive.
She took one tentative step forward.
And another.
Soon enough, she was walking, her feet with a mind of their own.
A strange sound resonated when she took her next step. Glinda stopped, backtracking before stepping on the spot again. It sounded hollow.
Glinda dropped to the wooden floor, feeling around frantically. Her fingers brushed against an imperfection on the floor. A small crack. No. Not a crack. It was too perfect to be a crack. Glinda’s fingers continued along the line. When her fingers reached an end, she found the line bending to the right, continuing the shape.
Her fingers traced four such lines, all connected, expertly hidden in the ground.
A trapdoor.
But there was no handle. How in Oz was she to get the thing open? Magic?
She didn’t think that was the only way, but her patience to feel around for some hidden lever or button was too thin. There were too many things on her mind and she wasn’t above taking an axe to the floor if it came down to it.
Glinda focused deep inside her, searching for any trace of magic. She’d pulled off magic before, but they were only small tricks. She caught on to the flickering energy and channeled it at the trapdoor. Nothing happened. “Open.” She said uselessly.
She groaned, repeating the process. “Open!”
After a few unsuccessful attempts, a thoroughly frustrated Glinda huffed, still on the ground. Any of her sadness and anxiety was drowned by frustration. All those years of practicing magic and she still couldn’t get a stupid trapdoor open. She’d studied the grimmerie so much, she’d tried to train her magic to accomplish something, anything of worth. She still couldn’t do a thing. The wand helped, but only to a certain extent. And Glinda had so foolishly left the wand behind.
‘Maybe it’s hard for you to make magic because things have been kind of easy for you, so you don’t need it.’
Glinda remembered Elphie’s words all too clearly. How much more did she have to suffer for her magic to finally work? Was losing everything not enough.
Yet, you’re still alive and adored.
Wasn’t that the privilege she had? She was still alive and comfortable, the envy of most Ozians, all because of her selfishness.
Taking a deep breath, Glinda focused again. This time, she tried focusing on the trapdoor. There she found it, traces of magic. It was sealed shut by magic, strong magic.
Glinda’s eyes widened. She recognised that magic. She’d seen it in action many times and even on the first day, when the two hadn’t really gotten along, she was in awe of it.
She sighed, defeated. There was no way she was getting the damned thing open now. Glind closed her eyes, the coldness of the castle seeping into her bones once the adrenaline wore off. Elphaba’s magic was not something Glinda was strong enough to undo and she was so tired.
Suddenly, Glinda’s eyes snapped open. Realisation hit her right in her gut, knocking any semblance of a coherent thought out of her. Words jumbled together in her brain making no real sense. A string of words pieced together through the chaos making one coherent sentence in her mind.
If Elphaba’s magic was still so strong even after two years…
Elphie was still alive.