Chapter 5
Elphaba felt like screaming. Nothing was going right. Nothing had gone right since Glinda-
She cut her thoughts, shaking her head. Thinking about her made Elphaba feel like a widow even though they weren’t even married. They could have been. If one day Oz had become a better place, Elphaba would have popped the question and they could have gotten married in the poppy fields Glinda so loved.
The thought of poppy fields brought a fresh wave of nausea. A place that had been so sacred to them, desecrated by her blood, by the men who dared to hurt her so badly that her body lay in Elphaba’s arms, still like it had never been before.
Now, Elphaba couldn’t care less about Oz — or she told herself she didn’t, and maybe if she did so enough times she would fully believe it. If she had another chance, she would take Glinda and flee Oz. They could build a life together away from the Wizard and his cruel regime, they would be happy so long as they had each other, and Glinda would be alive. If she had another chance, maybe she would stay away from Glinda entirely. She didn’t know which route she would take, didn’t even know if she had the capacity to do the latter, but her mind loved torturing her with possibilities.
So, to make up for the lack of her girlfriend’s company, a thing which ached like an open wound, she focused on the child who stole her sister’s shoes.
If she couldn’t do right by Glinda, she could at least try to do right by Nessa and honour the Thropp name.
Those shoes were the only relic that remained of her sister and she would be damned if she let some farmer girl prance around Oz wearing them.
Relics.
Her cloak hung heavy around her shoulders and her hat sat slightly tilted on her head. Were they relics of a love and a life that would stay with her forever in ghostly touches and shadows that never quite died? Were they relics of the woman she’d love till the end of time, the woman she’d miss until they reunite in the afterlife, if it even existed?
Glinda’s presence in Elphaba’s life was, in simple terms, impossible to erase. She’d made up the best parts of Elphaba’s life, and — in the beginning — some of the most confusing too. She wondered if Glinda knew that Elphaba loved her to the point where she felt a huge part of her was missing with her gone. Had Glinda died alone, thinking Elphaba didn’t care?
‘Oh my sweet…’
She hastily wiped away the beginnings of a tear and returned to the Grimmerie, flipping through its Ozdamned pages to try and find a spell that would help her.
She could just spell the girl and take her slippers, but she needed to know where she was and…
And after the failure of her last spell, she would ensure she wouldn’t fail ever again. What she was thinking would help her in that.
If only she could find the right spell for it.
She eyed the crystal ball she’d procured uncertainly. It seemed like the perfect vessel for the spell she had in mind. What better to see things than through glass? If she messed up a spell from the Grimmerie again though-
She shook away the thought. She’d tried being good, tried caring, and look where it got her. It was better this way. She was the Wicked Witch of the West. It was time she acted like it.
Her eyes landed on a page, a spell. It was perfect for what she was trying to achieve. So she chanted, the words rolling off her tongue effortlessly, as though speaking Ozian. The glass filled with a white mist-like substance and by the time the last words of the spell were spoken, it had curled around like tendrils. In the lighting of Kiamo Ko, the mist looked almost green.
Elphaba breathed in deeply, projecting her voice clearly as she commanded the ball. “Show me Dorothy Gale.”
And soon enough the mist swirled to reveal a clear picture of poppy fields and farmlands and the yellow brick road that cut through it. Elphaba’s breath caught at the sight of the fields. Glinda had died there.
If she wasn’t so lost in her thoughts and the scene playing out in front of her, maybe she would have heard the door creaking open.
“Elphaba.”
Her head snapped up at the voice, though she refused to turn around and look at the owner. She couldn’t bear it. “Leave.” She snapped.
“Elphaba please, let me explain-”
“Didn’t you hear me? Leave.”
“Elphaba I need to-”
“The only thing you need to do is leave.”
“Elphie please-”
That was the last straw. She whipped around, cloak billowing around her, to glare at the Winkie prince. His blue eyes stare back, looking so pitiful that at any other moment, under any other circumstances, Elphaba would have rushed to comfort him.
“Don’t you dare call me that!” She hissed. “Only one person had that right and she’s gone.”
The shard in her chest buried itself even deeper.
“I am so sorry. I never meant for things to turn out this way. You have to understand-”
“Glinda is dead!” Elphaba yelled. Something fell in the distance and the sound of shattering glass filled her ears, but Elphaba was too angry to care about what she’d broken. “So I will not understand anything.”
“Fine. You don’t have to understand me.” Fiyero sighed, acquiescing. “But what in Oz’s name do you think you’re doing?” He gestured somewhere vaguely both at her and behind her. “Why are you spying on that poor girl.”
Elphaba turned her head to stare at the figure of a young girl in pigtails making her way through the winding yellow road, her dog secured in her arms. Elphaba had always despised the idea of keeping animals as pets and the girl was so irritating that Elphaba felt bad for the poor thing. She’d been so caught up in the sight of the poppy fields that she hadn’t even noticed the girl.
“Didn’t you hear? I’m the Wicked Witch of the West. And she has something of interest.”
Fiyero shook his head. “No, you’re not. Don’t prove them right Elphaba, don’t prove the Wizard right.”
“Why would you care? You’re just his glorified lackey.” She took on a mocking tone. “Captain of the guard, Fiyero Tigelaar.” She scoffed. “You probably stood by and watched them kill Glinda.”
Elphaba had been studying his every expression and at the last line his facade completely fell, grief and guilt warring on his face. Elphaba will admit she felt bad, but not enough to care, not enough to numb the constant pain and emptiness she felt.
“Elphaba I never meant for things to turn out this way. I cared about Glinda too-”
“Not like I did. You never cared about her the way I did.”
She still cared. She would always care.
Her voice was more resigned when she spoke again. “Please just leave.”
She heard a sigh and some shuffling before, “Please don’t do something you’ll end up regretting.”
“Get out.”
The door shut and he was gone, leaving the room as empty as it did before.
Elphaba surveyed the damage. It wasn’t too bad some shattered windows and an empty bookshelf which had toppled over — Elphaba fixed the latter with a flick of her wrist.
She then returned to the crystal ball still sitting safe and sound in the centre of her room and settled down next to it. It had returned the original green mist that occupied it. Before she could order it to show her the girl again, Fiyero’s words played through her mind.
‘Please don’t do something you’ll end up regretting.’
The thing was Elphaba didn’t know if what she was planning were things she would end up regretting. She felt so stupidly lost without Glinda. It was like she knew all the answers, but they were locked away and Glinda held the key. When she… left, she’d taken it with her.
This was followed by memories. Unlike before Fiyero’s visit, Elphaba allowed them to play out.
Glinda panted heavily as she leaned on Elphaba, her face deeply injured with cuts and bruises. Elphaba wasn’t sure she looked any better.
The broom had done them no favours by deciding to crash into some trees while they were running away from some Gale Force officers. Whether it was the broom’s fault or Elphaba’s, she didn’t quite know.
“I never trustified that Ozdamned broom.” She grumbled. Then, “Elphie, I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can.” Elphaba said firmly though she understood where her fri- girlfriend was coming from. It had been a week. A week since that one ‘short’ day, a week since they’d been on the run, Elphaba a wanted criminal, and Glinda the good denizen of Oz who was kidnapped by the Wicked Witch. And it had been a week since their relationship.
Elphaba was uneasy with it at first, but when a letter from Fiyero made its way into their hands, clearing her of their relationship and filled with worried rambling. Unfortunately, after much arguing and deliberating, they’d decided that they couldn’t reply to it. It was too risky.
“Elphie, I’m not built for this. I’m built for fashion and parties.”
A spark of annoyance flamed in Elphaba’s chest. “Then you should have stayed with the Wizard.” She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth. Glinda’s face crumpled and Elphaba hastily reached out to her face, careful not to upset or pain her any more.
“I’m so sorry, my sweet. I was frustrated but not with you.”
“Elphie, I’m just weighing you down, aren’t I?”
“No.” Elphaba says firmly. “You give me strength.”
Glinda tried to shake her head, but Elphaba held that beautiful face firmly between both her palms. How was it possible that she looked this beautiful even when scratched up and bruised?
“This is hard. For both of us.”
Glinda sniffled. “It doesn’t look hard to you.”
“It is. And I’m so glad to have you here with me, my sweet.”
“I wouldn’t be anywhere but with you Elphie.” Glinda replied softly, swollen pink finding equally swollen green ones.
The kiss was painful, but it was theirs.
And Elphaba wouldn’t have it any other way.
“I’m glad. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
It was then that Elphaba knew.
She wanted to spend the rest of her life with this woman in whatever way Glinda would have her.
Elphaba startled from the memory at the sound of Chistery shuffling into the room.
“Chistery, what’s wrong?”
Chistery didn’t speak and Elphaba doubted the winged Monkey could. He simply held out his hands and in it was something that made her heart stop.
The pink cloak that had been used as a makeshift tarp for Glinda, the fancy one with — what she hoped was faux — fur and patterns along the edges. Glinda’s blood still decorated the edges, though now dried.
“Where did you find this?” Elphaba asked, not moving to take the cloak. She didn’t know if she could bear holding it again knowing the last time it had covered Glinda’s body.
Chistery didn’t speak, thrusting out the cloak a little more forcefully.
Elphaba carefully moved to take the cloak, her fingers hovering over it as if there was a force field above it. She forced herself to move, green fingers tentatively holding the pink fabric.
Pink goes good with green.
The sight of Glinda’s blood on it made her yearn for her love, made her grief ten times stronger, but most of all, it reminded her of why she was doing what she was.
No good deed ever worked out.
Holding the cloak to her heart, she made a promise to herself and Glinda.
No good deed will I ever attempt again, my sweet.