Chapter 4
The man in front of her made Glinda distinctly uncomfortable, to say the least.
He surveyed her with a bright smile, a golden tooth glinting in the low lamplight of his caravan. “I must say, I’ve never seen a living marionette before.” He mused, leaning back in his chair.
“Haven’t you?” Glinda said sweetly. “Well, I am one of a kind.”
“That you are.” His grin stretched.
Glinda shifted in her own seat uncomfortably. Daniel and Bas flanked either side of her, creating a sort of trapped feeling. She didn’t like a single thing about this. But her new body refused to listen to her.
She’d figured it out when she was contemplating things on one of her many sleepless nights — it seemed that had become a thing she didn’t need anymore. She not only looked like a puppet, she was a puppet. Her mind belonged to her, but that was where it ended.
Which was why she was very afraid. She wished she’d never shouted in that field.
“You can be a star, Miss Marionette.” Said the man whose name she didn’t even know yet.
“That’s very kind of you.” She tried. Maybe if she could distract and deflect him enough, she could escape. Though she knew those chances were close to zero.
At this rate, she would never get back to Elphie.
Was her girlfriend still okay? Did she get captured? She needed to know. She needed Elphie.
She needed the green girl to reassure her that everything would be okay. She was scared and Elphie always made everything better when she was scared. But she wasn’t here and there was chance that she couldn’t be okay and Glinda-
“I love Marionettes, Miss.” The man interrupted her racing thoughts and if it weren’t for the way he spoke the words, she would be thankful to him. “They’re very… profitable.”
“Profitable?” If she could swallow, she would.
“Yes. I run a circus, you see.”
There it was.
“They’ll love someone like you. You will be compensated, of course.”
Even if she would be — which she was sure she wouldn’t be — she didn’t care about any amount of money. She would not become a performer solely to benefit the likes of people like him. Or she wouldn’t if she had a choice.
“Sir, I must politely decline.”
Maybe he would let her go. Her thin hopes were dashed when the man’s eyes narrowed. “Well that won’t do.” He looked between his two lackeys. “Why, it simply will not do!”
His smile disappeared. “Lock her up.”
The two on either side of her grabbed one wooden arm each before she could even think to run. They hauled her frame to a trapdoor she had missed and threw her into the damp, dark space.
She really was trapped now. And alone. Completely and utterly alone.
“You think I’ll let such a golden opportunity escape.” The man cackled. “You’ll make a pretty penny for me.”
There was the sound of receding footsteps, the creaking of a door, and the closing of it then there was silence.
Glinda curled into herself. She missed freedom, she missed freedom, she missed her old form, and most of all, she missed Elphie.
The green witch would have made everything better. No matter what situation they were in, she made everything better. Even when they were on the run together, Glinda never felt quite so lonely or sad because Elphie was with her. As long as you’re mine.
She missed her kind, raspy voice, that cackling laugh of hers, she missed those green eyes that sparkled with wit and desire, she missed the expanse of her verdigris under or above her. She missed that warm touch, her tilted smile, her dark hair, and even that damned broomstick.
Oz, what she would give to see Elphaba again.
She even found herself missing things from her old life.
She missed her Momsie and Popsicle. She missed her Ama Clutch. And she missed Fiyero.
Despite not liking him romantically, he was a great friend. She thoroughly enjoyed his company. She supposed she’d mistaken that as feelings for the boy. He always had a way to lighten up any situation. She could really use that now.
She remembered seeing him right before she was dragged away. He looked different too. Cleaner and in emerald clothes rather than the blue garments she remembered him in from their Shiz days.
She remembered Nessa who looked so much older than her age, tired and burdened with a responsibility no one should have to deal with. Her obsession with Boq definitely wasn’t excusable, but Glinda couldn’t help but feel responsible for it. After all, if she hadn’t pushed the munchkin Nessa’s way, that situation might have been avoided. And now Nessa was dead.
Boq. The munchkin’s interests in her was something she was well aware of. She found it annoying and when he had interrupted she’d sent him Nessa’s way. She was responsible for his fate too. She was the reason he was made of tin.
Maybe she deserved this fate. Maybe this was karma for what she had done to him, to all of them.
A sick feeling curled in her stomach as she remembered all the times she’d weighed Elphie down. She’d felt like she had many times. Especially in the beginning when everything was new and Glinda found it especially hard to adapt to life on the run, to leave behind everything. It had sparked quite a few arguments between them and there were so many times where Glinda felt like a burden, like she wasn’t doing enough, like Elphie would be better off without her.
Most of their arguments were centred around that.
The same doubt sparked in her mind once again.
Maybe Elphaba was doing better without her. She could focus on what truly mattered to her and not have to take care of Glinda.
Elphaba was truly the most amazing person Glinda knew. She made everything better.
But the same case wasn’t true for Glinda.
She wasn’t sure when those men would come again and when she would be forced to perform. She wasn’t even sure if time flowed the same way which was a silly thought, the time dragon always flowed the same way. But for now she only had her thoughts as company and they did not make good company.
Misery and grief over what could have been, she found, hung around her like a shroud.
She no longer had control and now she found herself wondering if she ever did. The only time she’d truly felt free was the time where she left with Elphie. That was the one time she had broken the string attached to her, throwing caution, societal standards, and a life of luxury to the wind.
The strings were now back now, just in a more permanent way.