Chapter 3
Glinda had been working tirelessly for months—nine, maybe ten. Time blurred together in her ceaseless efforts to reverse the Wizard’s policies. She devoted herself to the citizens of Oz, trying to see them, hear them, free those who had been oppressed. She threw herself into learning the grimmerie. She kept busy, as if the weight of her responsibilities could replace the ache in her heart. Maybe, just maybe, she’d become worthy of her title one day.
But when night fell, the loneliness was inescapable. She soared over the land, watching families and lovers reunite, their homes glowing with warmth and laughter. Her own home, by contrast, was cold and quiet. Yes, there were servants and staff, but none who truly saw her. No one who could see through the image of “Glinda the Good”.
She’d thought of going back to her family, but the very idea seemed like an admission of failure. And so she stayed, holding the weight of Oz on her delicate shoulders, longing for something—someone—who would understand.
She understood now why Elphaba had wanted those stupid shoes. All Glinda had left was the memory of being almost chosen… and almost choosing.
When the silence became unbearable, Glinda would open her window and lie on her bed, just at the ceiling. She’d reach out, hand trembling, mimicking the gesture she hadn’t been brave enough to make. She’d close her eyes and imagine taking Elphaba’s hand. But even in her dreams, she would falter, she was not that girl.
It had been months. She didn’t even know how many anymore. How many nights had she laid awake, wishing she could go back, do things differently. She clung to the hope that learning the grimmerie might offer a way—a way to undo her mistakes, a way to reach Elphaba again. But no.
Defeated, Glinda rose and moved to her desk, sorting through the endless piles of letters. Her favorites were letters from her friends from Shiz, reminders of a simpler time. Her fingers brushed one envelope, and a faint melody floated into her mind. The Ozdust Ballroom. Where she understood what was in her heart the first time.
She stood just a few feet from the mirror, her breath shallow, her heart a storm in her chest. The haunting melody escaped her lips in a soft hum, a fragile rope to memories she dared not confront. Her hands moved to her abdomen, almost instinct, initiating the ghost of a dance. Tears brimmed in her eyes, shimmering like liquid grief, as she moved—slowly, haltingly—her reflection the only partner she had left.
Her arms extended, forming a tentative half-circle. She felt pitiful, a silhouette of despair cast against the cold light of the room. One hand rose to her forehead, the other settled on her hip, her feet making small, uncertain kicks. The motion was absurd, almost laughable, yet her heart screamed with a yearning too deep to name. Each step was weighted with hesitation, yet her mind replayed the scene with cruel clarity.
She could see it—Elphaba’s fluid movements, the effortless grace of her dance. Glinda had mimicked those steps once, at first they were silly but, her heart filled with admiration. Now, she tried desperately to replicate them, chasing not just the movements but the presence—the unshakable feeling of having Elphaba before her.
When she reached the part where their eyes would have met, and they would have touched, where she should have been face-to-face with her partner, the dam broke. A sob tore from her throat, raw and jagged, echoing through the empty room. She collapsed to her knees, her grief too vast to contain, yet she stifled the scream clawing at her throat. The walls felt oppressive, the silence deafening.
“Elphie,” she whispered brokenly, her voice barely audible. “Please. Just once. Let me see you again.”
A soft touch brushed her cheek, wiping away her tears. Glinda froze, her breath hitching. If this was a mirage the universe would be so cruel. “It’s okay,” a voice murmured, gentle and achingly familiar. “It’s okay, my sweet.”
She felt the hand tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. It was a habit they developed somewhere some time ago.
Glinda’s eyes fluttered open, and there she was. Elphaba. Solid and real. Trembling, Glinda reached for her, pulling her close. Her sobs came harder, but for the first time, they were from relief. “You’re here,” she choked out. “You’re really here.”
“I’m here, my sweet,” Elphaba whispered, pressing a kiss to Glinda’s hair. “I’m here.”
“But you were dead,” Glinda sobbed, weakly pounding her fists against Elphaba’s chest. “I saw you die! I saw it!”
“Fiyero and I had a plan,” she murmured. “We were going to run away, never to return, but I…”
A faint smile formed on Elphaba’s lips.
“It wasn’t what I wanted. He understood, but we were so far away, and I’m not good at finding my way back,” Elphaba explained as her grip tightened around Glinda. “It was a mistake that I couldn’t bear the burden of.”
“So, did you bring him here?” Glinda asked quietly. She felt that speaking any louder might shatter this moment if it were a dream.
“No, he wanted to go his own way,” Elphaba replied. “He says he’ll be fine. He’ll find his way around.”
At that moment, Glinda felt the weight lift from her chest. For the first time in months, she breathed freely.
“Did you come here with a plan?” Glinda pulled away slightly, her eyes lingering on Elphaba’s. Could they finally choose each other?
“No,” Elphaba chuckled. “I just followed my heart.”
“Are you staying?” Glinda’s voice was hopeful.
“Can I?” Elphaba asked. “Maybe I can wear a mask, get some gloves, and a cloak and follow you around.”
“I’d never hide your beauty,” Glinda said as she buried her head on Elphaba’s shoulder. She felt real. This was real. “I want you with me. I’m asking you to stay, but you don’t have to. Just know that I want you with me.”
“Then we’ll figure it out together,” Elphaba smiled and cupped Glinda’s cheek. “I want you with me.”
“Can we run away?” Glinda was out of character. “Leave this all behind? I’ll come with you.”
“What of the people? They love you,” Elphaba seemed surprised. “I thought this mattered?”
“Many people love me,” Glinda said lightly.
“Not many people love me,” Elphaba replied, and they shared a giggle.
Hands touched. Eyes met. The silence was warm and comforting.
“You’re the only one that matters,” they said in unison, leaning in slowly. The kiss was everything Glinda had needed, as if Elphaba had thrown her another lifeline. She felt her dying heart beat more in these few minutes than in the span of months. She clung to her Elphie as the kiss deepened.
Soft lips. Ragged breaths. All Glinda could hear was the pounding of her own heart.
“Can you lie low?” Glinda asked, her voice tender. “Would you be happy in the shadows?”
Elphaba nodded. “Seems like you need a little help managing this land.”
“Truly,” Glinda said, glancing at her messy desk. “I think we can move somewhere private, maybe a house far enough from the public—just you and me.”
“I’d like that,” Elphaba said softly.
“Are you sure you don’t want to leave right now?” Glinda asked.
“I don’t want to ruin this for you,” Elphaba replied.
“I’m just doing what you thought would’ve been nice. I tried to make the changes, I tried to be—”
Glinda found Elphaba’s lips on hers for a brief, silencing second.
“Sorry,” Elphaba smiled. “You were going to ramble. I know you did it for me. I know you’re doing your best. I’m proud. It was for good.”
Glinda chuckled softly, resting her forehead against Elphaba’s. “Then let’s finish it together. When it’s done, we’ll pass the torch. And then it’ll just be us.”
“Just us,” Elphaba echoed, their hands intertwining.
Time passed as they worked side by side, enacting reforms and bringing change to the land. Glinda’s reputation as a beloved leader only grew, and Elphaba’s quiet guidance remained her strength. She was privileged, it wasn’t a secret. She doesn’t get why things should be changed but Elphaba was patient.
There were things that she didn’t understand and she’d turn to Elphaba for her insight and how to approach those matters.
When the time came, Glinda made the decision to step down, feeling the weight of her time in service to Oz. But instead of selecting a successor, she knew in her heart who truly deserved to take up the mantle. It was not a matter of choosing but recognizing the rightful heir.
On the day of her departure from the public eye, Glinda stood on the grand balcony of the Emerald City Palace, she wore white, like a wedding dress. The citizens of Oz gathered below. Glinda’s voice rang clear and strong as she addressed them.
“My dear people of Oz,” she began, her smile warm, “the time has come for a new chapter, for new leadership to guide us into a brighter tomorrow.”
She passed the mantle to the rightful heir of Oz. For the first time, in a long time, Glinda took a step back and took in the landscape. The cheers of the people and the promise of tomorrow.
After the ceremony, Glinda and Elphaba retreated to their quiet home on the outskirts of the Emerald City. Elphaba was pardoned after Glinda explained what had truly happened, but it was a secret.
That evening, as the stars twinkled above, they sat by the fireplace, the flickering flames casting a warm glow on their faces. The marriage certificate on the mantle seemed to shimmer in the firelight, a testament to the love that had carried them through so much.
Elphaba held her as she was reading. They sat near the fireplace, Glinda leaned into Elphaba’s arms, a contented sigh escaping her lips. “We did it, Elphie. Oz is in good hands now. We can finally rest.”
Elphaba kissed the top of Glinda’s head, her voice low and soothing. “You’ve given them everything you had. You can rest easy.”
Glinda chuckled softly. “Do you think they’ll miss me?”
Elphaba’s lips curved into a sly smile. “Miss you? They’ll be naming holidays after you.”
The two shared a laugh, their hands entwined as they gazed into the fire. The weight of their responsibilities had lifted.
“This feels right,” Glinda said as she turned to Elphaba, sharing a brief kiss before they turned back to the book. Glinda would turn the pages as Elphaba would hold it still.
For the rest of their days, it was just them. Truly, it was.