Vows

Elphaba’s voice was soft, tinged with the memory of worry. “You scared me to death, you know.”

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪  flashback starts

It started with a faint tickle at the back of Galinda’s throat—an insignificant irritation she quickly dismissed. After all, she had more important things to worry about. Between sorcery seminars, Shiz’s endless social events, and her tireless efforts to maintain her sparkling reputation, there was little room for trivial inconveniences like a scratchy throat.

She fluttered around her dorm room, meticulously organizing her collection of ribbons, perfumes, and color-coded notebooks. Her voice had sounded a bit hoarse during Professor Dillamond’s lecture, but she’d chalked it up to all the animated talking she’d done at lunch, regaling her admirers with tales of her latest shopping adventure in the Emerald City.

But by the time evening crept in, Galinda felt… off.

Her head grew heavy, like it was filled with cotton. A warm flush crept across her cheeks, and her limbs ached with an unfamiliar weariness. Standing in front of her ornate mirror, she frowned at her reflection. Her usually radiant complexion was tinged pink, her eyes slightly glassy. She dabbed at her forehead with a lace handkerchief, noticing the sheen of sweat gathering at her hairline.

“Oh, this will not do,” she mumbled, dabbing more furiously.

Elphaba wasn’t around—probably holed up in the library, buried under a mountain of books, as usual. Galinda was almost relieved. The last thing she needed was Elphaba’s sharp, judgmental stare or some sarcastic remark about how “illness doesn’t discriminate, not even against the popular.”

She decided to simply go to bed early, convinced she’d feel better after some rest. But sleep didn’t come easily.

By midnight, Galinda was shivering uncontrollably, buried beneath a fortress of blankets. Her skin felt too hot, yet she trembled as though trapped in an ice storm. Her throat burned with every swallow, and her head throbbed in relentless waves. She shifted restlessly, trying to find a position that eased the discomfort, but nothing helped.

She fumbled for the glass of water on her nightstand, her hand trembling so badly she knocked it over, spilling cold water across her books and papers. She let out a weak whimper of frustration, her body too exhausted to care.

That’s when Elphaba returned.

The door creaked open quietly—Elphaba, ever mindful not to disturb her annoyingly delicate roommate. She’d spent hours poring over magical theory, her mind buzzing with spells and incantations. But the moment she stepped into their dimly lit room, she froze.

Galinda was curled in a miserable ball, tangled in blankets, her face flushed and glistening with sweat. Her breathing was ragged and uneven.

Elphaba’s heart lurched unexpectedly.

She crossed the room in quick, purposeful strides, dropping her satchel by the door. Without hesitation, she knelt beside the bed, placing a cool hand on Galinda’s burning forehead. The contrast of her green skin against Galinda’s fevered pink was stark.

Galinda stirred weakly, her eyes fluttering open—glassy and unfocused. “Elphie…?” Her voice was a faint rasp, barely recognizable.

Elphaba swallowed hard, pushing back the surge of worry rising in her chest. “Galinda,” she whispered, softer than she thought herself capable of. She brushed damp strands of blonde hair away from Galinda’s face with surprising tenderness. “You’re burning up.”

Galinda whimpered, trying to burrow deeper into the blankets. “Cold…”

“I know,” Elphaba murmured, standing quickly to retrieve a damp cloth from the washbasin. She wrung it out and gently pressed it to Galinda’s forehead, her long fingers lingering for a moment, feeling the heat radiating through the fabric.

Galinda whimpered again, her hand reaching out blindly. Elphaba caught it without thinking, her thumb brushing over Galinda’s knuckles.

“It’s alright,” Elphaba whispered, her voice steady despite the knot tightening in her chest. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

And she meant it. Elphaba didn’t sleep that night.

She sat vigil by Galinda’s bedside, perched on the edge of the mattress with a damp cloth in one hand and a cup of lukewarm water in the other. The room, usually bright with Galinda’s endless assortment of pastel decorations and perfumed air, felt suffocating under the heavy blanket of illness. The dim glow of the lantern cast flickering shadows, making Elphaba’s angular features seem even sharper, her expression etched with concern she wouldn’t dare admit aloud.

Galinda drifted in and out of restless sleep, her face flushed, hair damp with sweat. She mumbled incoherently, her words slurred, sometimes reaching out as if grasping for something—or someone—just out of reach.

“Elphie…” she whimpered once, her voice barely a breath.

Elphaba froze. She wasn’t sure if Galinda was awake or caught in some fevered dream, but the sound of her nickname—soft, vulnerable—made something twist inside her chest. She reached out instinctively, brushing her thumb gently across Galinda’s temple.

“I’m here,” she whispered, the words foreign on her tongue. Comfort wasn’t exactly her specialty.

Galinda’s fever spiked as the hours dragged on. Her skin burned hotter, her body trembling despite the sweat soaking her nightdress. Elphaba forced her to sip water whenever she stirred, her patience thin but her determination unwavering.

By dawn, Galinda’s condition hadn’t improved. Her breathing was shallow, her face worryingly pale beneath the flush of fever. Elphaba’s usual stoicism began to crack, fear creeping in where logic usually resided.

She knew she needed help.

With reluctance, Elphaba left Galinda’s side just long enough to rush down the hall to the infirmary. She banged on the door until Madame Ozielle, the school nurse, answered, bleary-eyed and annoyed.

“She’s burning up,” Elphaba blurted out, out of breath. “She won’t wake up properly. You need to come—now.”

Madame Ozielle muttered something about common colds and dramatic students, but the sharpness in Elphaba’s voice must’ve conveyed the urgency. She grabbed her medical bag and followed Elphaba back to the dorm.

The examination felt like an eternity. Madame Ozielle checked Galinda’s temperature, listened to her breathing, and muttered under her breath. Elphaba stood rigid by the door, arms crossed, pretending her heart wasn’t racing with every labored breath Galinda took.

“It’s a severe fever. Likely an infection,” Madame Ozielle finally said. “She’s dehydrated, and her body’s fighting hard. I’ll leave some medicine, but she’ll need rest. Someone has to stay with her to monitor her condition.”

“I will,” Elphaba said without hesitation. The words were out before she could even consider them.

Madame Ozielle gave her a brief, surprised glance but didn’t argue. She left with a promise to check back later, leaving Elphaba alone once more with Galinda.

Elphaba sat back down beside the bed, her hand hesitating in the air before she gently tucked a stray curl behind Galinda’s ear.

“It’s going to be alright, okay?” she muttered, her voice softer than usual. 

Galinda didn’t respond, but her fingers twitched slightly, as if reaching for Elphaba even in sleep.

Elphaba sighed, her heart unexpectedly heavy. She settled in for another long day, determined to keep her promise—whether Galinda heard it or not.

She wasn’t going anywhere.

The hours blurred together, stitched by the faint ticking of the clock on the dorm wall and the shallow rise and fall of Galinda’s chest. Elphaba hadn’t left her side—not even once. She barely noticed when the sun crept through the thin curtains, casting streaks of pale gold across the floor. The light didn’t matter. Only Galinda did.

Elphaba had never been good at waiting. She was a woman of action, of sharp words and sharper thoughts. But here she was, helpless in the face of something she couldn’t argue with, couldn’t outwit—an illness that clung to Galinda like a shadow.

Galinda whimpered softly, her brow furrowed, breath ragged. Elphaba snapped out of her daze, reaching instinctively for the damp cloth, now warm from hours of use. She dipped it in cool water again, wringing it out with trembling hands she refused to acknowledge, then gently pressed it to Galinda’s forehead.

Galinda flinched at the chill, her lips parting in a dry, cracked whisper.

“Elphie…?”

Elphaba leaned in, her heart thudding painfully. “I’m here,” she whispered, brushing Galinda’s sweaty curls away from her face. “I’m right here.”

Galinda’s eyes fluttered open—just for a moment. They were glassy, unfocused, but there was recognition there. A faint smile ghosted across her lips before she drifted back into unconsciousness.

That fragile smile broke something in Elphaba.

She clenched her jaw, trying to swallow the ache rising in her throat. This was Galinda. Infuriating, self-absorbed, relentlessly optimistic Galinda. The girl who argued about the proper arrangement of pillows on her bed, who wore perfume strong enough to give Elphaba a headache, who always had to have the last word.

And yet… here Elphaba was, her chest tightening with every shaky breath Galinda took.

She reached for Galinda’s hand, hesitant at first, then lacing their fingers together. Galinda’s skin was hot and dry, her grip weak, but Elphaba held on like it was the only thing tethering her to reality.

“You’re the most stubborn person I’ve ever met,” Elphaba whispered, her thumb brushing over Galinda’s knuckles. “So don’t you dare give up now. You’re not allowed.”

Her voice trembled on the last word.

Hours later, when Madame Ozielle returned to check on Galinda, she found Elphaba still there, slumped over the edge of the bed, her head resting near their entwined hands. She was fast asleep, exhaustion finally catching up with her. But even in sleep, Elphaba’s fingers never let go. 

The second night was worse.

Galinda’s fever raged like a wildfire, her body trembling under layers of blankets that did nothing to comfort her. Her skin burned hot, her lips dry and cracked despite Elphaba’s constant attempts to keep her hydrated. Each rasping breath seemed louder in the dark, like a cruel reminder that Galinda was still fighting—and that Elphaba couldn’t do anything but watch.

But Elphaba had done this before. Not with Galinda, but long ago—when she was small, fragile in ways no one ever saw. Dulcibear, her old nanny, had been the only one who ever cared for her like this. She remembered Dulcibear’s strong hands, gentle in contrast to the sharp, unforgiving world. She remembered the cool cloths pressed against her fevered skin, the soft lullabies hummed just under breath, the warmth of knowing someone was there, even when Elphaba was too weak to open her eyes.

And now, she found herself doing the same for Galinda.

She pulled the chair closer to the bed, refusing to leave even for a moment. Her sharp edges softened in the dim light, her usual scowl replaced by something tender, raw. She soaked a fresh cloth in cool water, wringing it out carefully before dabbing it along Galinda’s flushed cheeks, her brow, the delicate curve of her neck.

“There you go, love,” Elphaba whispered softly, a nickname that slipped out without permission. Her thumb brushed over Galinda’s temple with the same gentleness Dulcibear had once used on her. “You’re doing just fine. Just keep breathing, alright? That’s all you have to do.”

Galinda’s lips moved slightly, but no words came. Just a faint, broken sound that made Elphaba’s chest ache.

Elphaba tucked the blankets more securely around her, then cradled Galinda’s hand between both of her own, rubbing small, soothing circles over her knuckles. Her fingers were ice-cold compared to the fever heat of Galinda’s skin.

“You always talk too much,” Elphaba murmured, her voice trembling with exhaustion and fear. “And now you’re quiet, and I hate it. Isn’t that ridiculous?” She let out a shaky breath, pressing Galinda’s hand gently to her cheek. “You’d probably laugh if you heard me saying this.”

But Galinda didn’t laugh.

The silence in the room felt unbearable, heavy with words unsaid. So Elphaba filled it with her voice—the only thing she could offer. She started to hum, softly at first, a lullaby Dulcibear used to sing to her on nights like this. A melody stitched together with memories of warmth and care, even when the world felt cold.

Her voice wavered, not out of fear of being heard, but because the ache in her chest was too big, too real.

“I’m here,” she whispered again and again, her voice no more than a breath against Galinda’s fevered skin. “I won’t leave you. I swear.”

She stayed like that for hours, her head resting lightly against Galinda’s hand, humming softly, whispering nonsense just to fill the space. And somewhere in the fragile quiet, as dawn’s first light crept into the room, Galinda’s fingers twitched faintly in Elphaba’s grasp—just enough to hold on.

The door creaked open quietly as Elphaba entered their shared dorm room, a sense of urgency in her step. It had been a long morning, and though she had managed to attend Madame Morrible’s class, the rest of her day had been dedicated to taking care of Galinda. The feverish girl had barely moved since she’d come down with it the previous day, and Elphaba had missed all her other classes—except for the mandatory sorcery class she couldn’t afford to skip.

But now, as she entered their room, Elphaba felt a quiet relief. Galinda was still tucked in bed, looking small and vulnerable, but her best friends, Shenshen and Phannee, were sitting beside her, looking like they were doing their best to make her comfortable.

“Hey,” Elphaba greeted, softly closing the door behind her. She gave her best friends a nod of gratitude. “How’s she doing?”

Shenshen looked up with a gentle smile, clearly having been watching Galinda closely. “She’s a little better, actually. Her fever’s come down a bit, but she’s still pretty out of it. We gave her some soup, but she mostly just wanted to sleep. Didn’t even give us much trouble.”

Phannee, who was sitting at Galinda’s bedside, gently smoothing a lock of hair from her forehead, added, “We tried to keep her entertained. Read her a bit, made sure she ate, but I think she was just waiting for you. She asked for you as soon as you were done with class.”

Elphaba smiled faintly at that, though a pang of guilt twisted in her chest. “I shouldn’t have left her so long. I feel like I’ve missed everything.”

“Not at all,” Shenshen reassured her. “She was with us. She’s in good hands, Elphaba. You can’t do everything, you know.”

Elphaba felt her heart soften at their words, but her eyes never left Galinda’s face. Her usually radiant features looked pale, her lips cracked slightly from dehydration, but she still had that unmistakable beauty, even in sickness.

As she approached the bed, Elphaba reached out to gently brush a strand of hair from Galinda’s face. The girl stirred, her eyelids fluttering open to reveal glassy, fever-bright eyes.

“Elphie?” Galinda rasped, her voice weak but still laced with that familiar softness. “I was waiting for you… I missed you.”

Elphaba’s chest tightened, her guilt melting away. She sat on the edge of the bed, leaning down to press a soft kiss to Galinda’s forehead. “I’m here now, Galinda. How are you feeling?”

Galinda pouted, her usual dramatic flair still peeking through. “I feel awful,” she whined, her voice almost a whisper. “I just want to get up and… and do things. I don’t want to be in bed anymore.”

Shenshen chuckled softly, leaning over to ruffle Galinda’s hair. “You’ve been demanding that since we got her to bed this morning.”

“Only because I want to be a sorceress!” Galinda muttered weakly. “I have to be at my best. I can’t be weak.”

Elphaba sighed, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “You’re going to be a great sorceress, but only if you take care of yourself first.”

Galinda gave her a small, tired smile, her hand reaching out to weakly grasp Elphaba’s sleeve. “I want to catch up on magic. I’ve missed so much. Especially illusions. You know how much I want to be the best.”

Elphaba’s heart swelled at the determination in her words, even though they were barely above a whisper. She gave a soft nod, her fingers brushing over Galinda’s hand. “I’ll help you catch up, I promise.”

Phannee and Shenshen stood up, giving Elphaba the space she needed to sit closer to Galinda. Shenshen winked at Elphaba. “We’ll leave you two to it. But we’ll be back soon to check on you, Galinda. Don’t give Elphaba too much trouble, alright?”

Galinda just groaned, her eyes already slipping closed again as she rested her head against the pillow. “I’ll try, but no promises.”

Phannee laughed and followed Shenshen out, leaving Elphaba and Galinda alone in the quiet room.

Elphaba sat there, watching Galinda drift back to sleep, her hand still resting gently over her friend’s. She didn’t mind missing class. This was what mattered most. And when Galinda was ready, they’d tackle all the lessons she’d missed together.

In that quiet moment, Elphaba knew she would do anything to make sure Galinda would be alright. Whether it was staying by her side while she recovered or helping her chase her dreams of becoming a sorceress, Elphaba would always be there.

“Rest, Galinda, you need it,” Elphaba whispered, brushing her hair back again. 

Elphaba sat quietly for a while, listening to Galinda’s soft, uneven breaths, her heart stubbornly refusing to behave. But then she noticed Galinda’s brows knitting faintly in discomfort, her sleep restless, her fingers twitching slightly as if reaching for something unseen.

Elphaba frowned. She needed to distract her.

Sliding Galinda’s head gently onto a stack of pillows, Elphaba stood, stretching her stiff legs before rifling through her satchel. She pulled out her worn leather notebook—edges frayed, pages filled with scribbles in her sharp handwriting—and the thick spellbook they’d been using in their advanced Sorcery lessons with Madame Morrible.

Elphaba settled back beside her, the mattress dipping slightly. Galinda stirred, her eyes fluttering half-open, glazed with exhaustion but still full of that spark Elphaba had come to recognize.

“Elphie?” she rasped, her voice soft and scratchy.

“Thought I’d read to you. The lessons you’ve missed,” Elphaba murmured, brushing cool fingers over Galinda’s forehead. The fever wasn’t as fierce now, but it still lingered. 

Galinda blinked slowly, her lips curving into the faintest smile. “Sorcery lessons?”

Elphaba gave a small nod.

Galinda’s hand weakly reached out, fingers curling around the edge of Elphaba’s sleeve like she needed the connection. “Read the part about illusion spells,” she whispered, her breath warm against Elphaba’s arm. “I wanted to learn that this week…”

Elphaba swallowed the lump in her throat and flipped open the spellbook to the section on illusionary magic, her heart tightening with a strange kind of tenderness.

“‘Foundations of Illusory Manipulation,’” she began, her voice softer than usual. “A branch of sorcery dedicated to altering perception without changing the physical world. Illusions can deceive the senses but require precise focus and—”

Galinda made a soft, sleepy sound, her fingers still clutching Elphaba’s sleeve. “You’re good at reading,” she mumbled. “Sounds like…music.”

Elphaba felt her face flush, grateful Galinda’s eyes were mostly closed. “It’s just reading,” she muttered, but her voice softened even more.

She kept going, pausing now and then to explain concepts Galinda would’ve asked about if she’d been fully awake. Every time Galinda stirred, Elphaba adjusted—her voice a steady anchor in the drifting haze of fever.

Eventually, Galinda blinked up at her, a lazy, drowsy grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “When I’m better…will you help me practice?”

Elphaba’s heart stuttered. She cleared her throat, pretending to be entirely unaffected. “Of course. Can’t have you falling behind, Miss Future Sorceress.”

Galinda giggled weakly, the sound like a fragile bell, before her eyes slipped closed again, her breathing evening out.

Elphaba stayed right there, her voice a soft murmur against the quiet, reading about magic and illusions, all the while realizing the biggest illusion might be pretending she didn’t care.

The following day, her fever finally broke just as the sky outside shifted from deep indigo to the soft blush of dawn. The room was painted in faint strokes of pink and gold, delicate light creeping over the scattered spellbooks and the crumpled blanket that had slid halfway to the floor.

Elphaba hadn’t slept. She sat cross-legged beside Galinda, her back aching slightly from the stiff position, but she didn’t care. She’d kept watch all night, reading softly, refreshing the cool cloth on Galinda’s forehead, whispering reassurances even when she wasn’t sure Galinda could hear her.

But now—Galinda’s skin was cooler, her breathing steady and peaceful. She looked almost like herself again, though her cheeks still held a faint, rosy flush.

Elphaba let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

As if sensing the shift, Galinda stirred, her lashes fluttering like the wings of a delicate moth. She blinked up at Elphaba, her brown eyes clearer than they had been in days, though still soft with exhaustion.

“Elphie?” Her voice was a faint rasp, but it held warmth, the edges curling with something gentle.

Elphaba leaned in slightly, her heart doing that annoying skip again. “I’m here,” she murmured, her voice rough with sleeplessness. “How are you feeling?”

Galinda smiled, small but genuine. “Like I was hit by a runaway broomstick… but better.”

Elphaba huffed a laugh, the tension in her chest easing. “Well, you’ve been thoroughly fussed over. Against my better judgment.”

Galinda’s fingers found Elphaba’s again, curling around them weakly but deliberately. “I liked it,” she whispered, her thumb brushing over Elphaba’s knuckles.

Elphaba swallowed hard, her heart thudding in an uneven rhythm. She glanced away, pretending to fuss with the edge of the blanket, then softly replied, “I know.”

Silence settled between them, not awkward, just full—like the space held more than words could say.

After a moment, Galinda spoke again, her voice quieter, more vulnerable. “You really stayed the whole time?”

Elphaba nodded. “Of course I did.”

Galinda’s smile grew, sleepy but bright, her eyes shining with something that made Elphaba’s chest ache. “You’d make a good sorceress too, you know.”

Elphaba snorted, shaking her head. “I’d make a terrible sorceress. Too impatient. Too—”

Galinda squeezed her hand gently, cutting her off. “Not true. You’ve got magic in you, Elphie. Not just the spell kind.”

Elphaba froze, her throat tightening. She didn’t know how to respond to that, so she just squeezed Galinda’s hand back, holding on like it was the only thing tethering her to the ground.

After a long, soft pause, Galinda’s eyes started to drift closed again, her breathing evening out. But just before sleep pulled her under, she whispered, “When I’m better… promise you’ll help me become the greatest sorceress in all of Oz?”

Elphaba’s heart softened, her thumb brushing gently over the back of Galinda’s hand.

“I promise,” she whispered.

And she meant it.

Not just the Sorcery lessons. Not just the spells.

She’d be there—always. In sickness, in health, in magic, in everything.

Because somehow, without realizing it, Galinda had become her favorite spell of all.

The next morning came and Elphaba had barely finished putting on her boots when she turned around to see Galinda, still tucked under the covers, peeking over the edge of her pillow with big, doe-like eyes.

“Elphie!” Galinda whined, her voice high and dramatic. “I don’t think I can go today. I feel sooooo weak.” She let out a long, exaggerated groan, as if every fiber of her being was pleading for sympathy.

Elphaba raised an eyebrow, her patience running thin. “You’re fine, Galinda. You’ve been up and about all morning.” She tugged her scarf a little tighter, pretending to be busy.

But Galinda wasn’t giving up so easily. She shifted slightly, making sure her pout was front and center. “But I need my rest, Elphie! I’m still not feeling completely better, you know. My head is all wobbly, my throat feels scratchy again…” She sniffled dramatically, her hand fluttering to her forehead in mock distress.

Elphaba could feel her resolve weakening as she watched Galinda’s performance. There was no way she was actually sick, not after the way she’d been bouncing around earlier, but she wasn’t sure if she could resist that pleading look.

“Galinda,” Elphaba started, rolling her eyes, “you’re fine. You’re just being dramatic.”

“I am not being dramatic!” Galinda shot back with a fierce pout, crossing her arms over her chest. “I just need a hug! You know, a nice, long, snuggly hug to make me feel better…” She batted her eyelashes at Elphaba, hoping to sweeten the deal.

Elphaba stared at her for a moment, trying to fight the urge to give in. “You’re fine. You’re just trying to get out of class. You’re not getting out of class.”

But then Galinda scooted further down into the blankets, curling up into a tight little ball. Her voice dropped to a near whisper. “But Elphie…” She sniffled again, her lower lip trembling just enough to make Elphaba’s heart do an involuntary flip. “Please? Just one hug? I’ll be good, I swear. I just need a little cuddle…”

It was impossible. Elphaba stood frozen for a beat longer before sighing deeply, knowing she was losing the battle. She had learned, by now, that Galinda could work her own kind of magic when it came to getting her way.

She walked over to the bed, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?” she muttered as she sat down beside her.

Galinda immediately scooted into her arms, tucking her head into the crook of Elphaba’s neck. “I know,” she said softly, her voice muffled against Elphaba’s skin, “but you love me anyway.”

Elphaba didn’t answer immediately. She just wrapped her arms around Galinda, holding her close, the heat of her body comforting in a way that felt too natural to resist.

“You’re impossible,” Elphaba said with a small, affectionate smile, her fingers gently brushing through Galinda’s hair.

Galinda hummed contentedly, curling into Elphaba’s embrace, the slightest hint of a smile playing on her lips. “I’ll go to class, I promise,” she said, her voice still muffled but lighter now. “Just… five more minutes?”

Elphaba couldn’t help herself. She sighed again, more for show than anything else, but tightened her hold on Galinda. “Five minutes, then we’re going.”

Galinda let out a satisfied little sigh, her body relaxing fully into Elphaba’s, as if this small moment of comfort could somehow cure everything. “You’re the best, Elphie,” she murmured, her voice sleepier now.

Elphaba’s heart softened. “I know.”

And for those few minutes, Elphaba let herself forget about the class waiting and the to-do lists stacking up. For just a little while longer, she let Galinda cling to her, pretending the world outside wasn’t as important as the person in her arms.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ flashback ends

“…in health,” Elphaba said softly.