Vows

The Emerald City was glowing, bathed in golden light as the sun dipped below the horizon. Its gleaming towers cast long, elegant shadows across the sprawling gardens where Elphaba and Galinda’s wedding was about to take place. The venue was tucked away from the bustling heart of the city—a hidden oasis blooming with vibrant flowers, enchanted lanterns floating lazily in the twilight air, casting soft glimmers like suspended stars.

Galinda stood in a quiet room just off the garden, her reflection staring back at her from an ornate, full-length mirror. The gown she wore was delicate, layers of soft ivory tulle cascading like clouds, embroidered with tiny glimmers that caught the light every time she moved. Her golden curls were pinned loosely, some strands falling around her face in effortless waves. She looked radiant, ethereal even, but her heart was racing, her fingers trembling slightly as she adjusted the simple, elegant necklace resting at her collarbone.

“Breathe,” she whispered to herself, placing a hand over her chest, feeling the wild rhythm beneath her palm.

It wasn’t fear. It was… everything. Years of laughter, of fights, of whispered promises late into the night. Years of finding herself and finding Elphaba all at once.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.

“Come in,” she called, her voice steady despite the storm inside.

The door creaked open, and Nessarose peeked in, her face glowing with warmth. “It’s time,” she said gently.

Galinda nodded, smoothing the front of her dress one last time. She glanced in the mirror again—not to check her appearance, but to see the version of herself she’d become. Not just Galinda Upland, but Galinda, who loved Elphaba Thropp with her whole heart.

She stepped into the fading light, her heart thudding in time with each step toward the garden where her future waited.

Elphaba stood beneath an elegant arch woven with wildflowers and delicate vines, their colors soft against the twilight sky. The lanterns above flickered gently, their glow casting golden highlights on her emerald skin. She wore a gown as well—simple but striking. Dark, flowing fabric that hugged her figure, the sleeves sheer and embroidered with subtle silver threads that shimmered like stardust. Her long, dark hair was left loose, falling in soft waves over her shoulders, a quiet rebellion against the structured styles others had suggested.

Her heart raced—not out of nerves, but anticipation. It was almost laughable to think that Elphaba Thropp, who had once thrived in the solitude of dusty books and fierce debates, now stood here, waiting to marry the woman who had upended her entire world with a smile and stubbornness that rivaled her own.

She fidgeted slightly, her fingers grazing the small piece of parchment tucked into the sleeve of her gown. Her vows. Written and rewritten a dozen times, though the words had always been the same in her heart.

The soft hum of music drifted through the air, and the guests—all familiar faces from their years at Shiz and beyond—rose to their feet.

Elphaba’s breath caught. There she was.

Galinda stepped into view, framed by the fading glow of the setting sun. She looked radiant, her dress glowing softly, her face lit with a smile so bright it outshone even the enchanted lanterns. But it wasn’t just her beauty that stole Elphaba’s breath—it was the way Galinda’s eyes searched for her immediately, locking onto hers with a warmth that melted every guarded wall Elphaba had ever built.

Time seemed to slow as Galinda walked down the aisle. Elphaba barely heard the music, barely noticed the crowd. All she saw was her.

Galinda’s smile wavered slightly, her blue eyes glassy with emotion as she finally reached her. Elphaba’s hands found hers instinctively—soft, warm, grounding.

And just like that, every word Elphaba had written felt unnecessary. How could ink capture this?

The officiant’s voice faded into a gentle hum, overshadowed by the thrum of Galinda’s heartbeat in her ears. She squeezed Elphaba’s hands, grounding herself in the warmth of her touch. Elphie’s fingers were calloused from years of scribbling in notebooks and practicing spells, yet they held Galinda’s delicately, as if she were made of something fragile. But Galinda had never felt stronger than when she was with her.

When it was her turn to speak, she took a shaky breath, her perfectly rehearsed words abandoning her mind in an instant. But that was okay. She didn’t need them.

Instead, she glanced toward the small string quartet tucked into the corner of the garden, giving them a tiny, trembling nod. They began to play—a soft, lilting melody that carried her emotions more eloquently than any speech ever could.

Galinda’s voice, bright and clear despite the tears brimming in her eyes, slipped seamlessly into the melody. She hadn’t told Elphaba she would sing her vows. It was a surprise—a gift wrapped in trembling courage and unspoken memories.

Her song wasn’t grand or complex. It was simple, honest. Each lyric woven from moments they’d shared: late-night whispers in the dark, heated debates turned into laughter, silent comforts when words weren’t enough. She sang of the day she realized she was in love with Elphaba—not a dramatic revelation, but a quiet understanding that had settled over her like the softest snowfall.

Her voice wavered slightly as she reached the final lines, emotion thick in her throat. But she didn’t shy away from it. She wanted Elphaba to hear every crack, every unpolished note, because that was real. That was them.

When the last note faded into the evening air, Galinda’s tears spilled freely. She let out a small, breathless laugh, embarrassed but glowing. She looked at Elphaba, whose eyes were glistening too, her usual composure softened by the weight of Galinda’s words.

Galinda squeezed her hands again, whispering softly, “That’s my heart. It’s always been yours.”

Elphaba didn’t respond with words—she didn’t need to. The way she looked at Galinda said everything.

The echoes of Galinda’s song still lingered in the air, soft and fragile, like the last shimmer of sunlight before dusk fully settles. Elphaba’s heart was a tight knot, wrapped in threads of awe, love, and the overwhelming ache of having been truly seen. She’d always thought herself a creature of words—eloquence came easily on paper, but now, standing in front of Galinda, nothing felt sufficient.

She reached into the pocket of her gown, pulling out a small, neatly folded piece of parchment. The edges were slightly crinkled from the countless times she’d unfolded and refolded it, rehearsing the words over and over, each time convinced they weren’t enough.

She unfolded it slowly, her fingers trembling, not from nerves but from the sheer weight of the moment. Then, she met Galinda’s eyes—those warm, brown eyes she’d found herself lost in more times than she could count—and everything settled.

Her voice was soft but steady as she began.

“I tried to write this a hundred different ways,” she admitted, glancing briefly at the paper before lifting her gaze back to Galinda. “But every time I did, it felt like I was trying to capture something too vast, too complicated, too—” She exhaled softly, shaking her head with a faint smile. “Too Galinda.”

A ripple of gentle laughter moved through their guests, but Elphaba only had eyes for her.

“I used to think love was a distraction. A weakness. Something I didn’t have the luxury to indulge in. But then you came into my life, all brightness and determination, with a heart too big for your own good. You were everything I never thought I needed—and everything I couldn’t live without.”

She paused, swallowing hard against the lump forming in her throat. Galinda’s eyes shimmered with fresh tears, her hands still clasped tightly in Elphaba’s, as if anchoring them both.

“You made me believe in things I never thought possible. In magic that doesn’t come from spells or potions, but from the simple, extraordinary fact of being known. Truly known. And loved anyway.”

Elphaba’s fingers tightened slightly around Galinda’s as she continued, her voice growing firmer.

“So, here’s what I vow to you: I vow to stand beside you, even when the world feels too heavy. I vow to challenge you, to argue with you when it matters, because I respect you too much not to. I vow to find new reasons to fall in love with you every day, even when we’re old and grey—well, green for me—and you’re still complaining about the humidity ruining your hair.”

Another ripple of laughter, softer this time, tinged with tears.

Elphaba unfolded the final part of her parchment, though she no longer needed it. The words were etched into her heart.

“And above all,” she said, her voice softening, “I vow to honor you with every breath, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better…”