Chapter 3
Elphaba stood guard in front of the princess’s bedchambers, her hands clasped behind her back, boots planted with silent precision on the marble floor. The hallway was hushed, save for the distant tick of the great clocktower echoing through the royal corridors. Dawn’s first light was just beginning to press itself against the high arched windows, casting gentle golden hues on the stone walls.
The princess would awaken in minutes. Like clockwork, her morning routine began with a gentle knock on her door from her handmaid, a tray of warm tea, and the rustle of silk as she dressed for her daily walk through the royal gardens.
But she was never allowed to take this walk alone again.
And so, as always, Elphaba would join her.
She allowed herself a single breath, then straightened. She could hear soft movement within, the creak of the floorboards as Galinda stirred, the gentle knock of porcelain as her tea was poured. Then a voice, light and lilting, speaking softly to her maid.
Elphaba turned her head slightly as the door opened. Galinda emerged like a vision of dawn itself, robes of pale peach and gold, her golden hair tumbling in waves down her back. She smiled when she saw Elphaba, and though it was a smile of familiarity, practiced from a hundred such mornings, something in it still caught Elphaba’s breath in her throat.
"Good morning, Elphaba," she said gently.
Elphaba bowed slightly. "Princess."
Without another word, they walked together.
The halls fell away behind them, replaced by the open embrace of the palace gardens. Dew clung to the petals of the roses and lilies, catching the morning light like gemstones. The trees whispered as the breeze passed through their branches. Somewhere, a lark began to sing.
Galinda walked slowly, as she always did. She liked to stop at the ivy covered arch, where white flowers bloomed regardless of the season. Elphaba stood just behind her, close enough to intervene at a moment’s notice, far enough to offer space.
"I had a dream last night," Galinda said suddenly, not turning around.
Elphaba blinked. She was used to the princess speaking first, but certainly not speaking of dreams. "What kind of dream?"
Galinda looked over her shoulder with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "I was flying. Over the castle. Over the city. No guards, no rules. No eyes watching."
Elphaba didn’t know what to say to that. So she said nothing.
Galinda turned back to the flowers, brushing her fingertips along a petal. "I know why I can’t go alone anymore," she said. "But I miss pretending I’m free."
Elphaba hesitated. Then "Freedom is dangerous."
Galinda glanced at her. "So is living."
They stood in silence for a moment, a bird darting past them in a flurry of feathers. Elphaba watched the way Galinda’s eyes followed it, wistful, almost yearning.
"I’m glad it’s you, though," Galinda said at last, voice quiet. "If I must have a shadow, I’d rather it be you."
Elphaba’s jaw tightened. She was used to duty. Used to being ignored or respected from a distance. She was not used to being... chosen.
"Thank you," she said stiffly.
Galinda smiled again, then continued walking. Elphaba followed, her boots muffled against the winding garden path.
They passed through the rose gate and into the quiet maze of hedges. As they rounded the bend near the western fountain, Galinda slowed. "Elphaba?"
"Yes, Princess?"
Galinda turned to face her fully now, eyes bright, hair lit from behind by the rising sun. "Do you ever wish things were different? That you didn’t have to protect me? That I wasn’t a symbol, but just... Galinda?"
Elphaba stared at her. Her training urged her to deflect, to redirect. But something in Galinda’s voice held her still.
"I don’t wish things were different," Elphaba said finally. "Because if they were, I might not have met you. And I do not know of any other princesses, so I am stuck."
Galinda reached up to squeeze her arm, although it was basically just like squeezing tin, her expression softened. She didn’t respond, just nodded once, as if the words held more meaning than either of them dared to say aloud.
They walked on.
And though the garden remained unchanged, Elphaba knew something had shifted. Not in the world, not yet, but in the space between them. Something fragile and shimmering, like dew on petals before the sun fully claims the sky.
The scream came from the east corridor.
Elphaba reacted before the sound even faded, hand flying to her sword, eyes narrowing. She pivoted toward the noise, instincts sharpening like a drawn blade. Galinda was mere steps behind her, walking with her usual serene grace. Too exposed.
"Elphaba—" Galinda began, but the hiss of an arrow split the air.
Elphaba turned on reflex. Pain exploded in her side as the shaft drove into her ribs. Her body jerked with the force, and she gasped, stumbling. But she didn’t fall.
She couldn’t fall.
Another arrow flew and she shielded Galinda with her own body, drawing her sword with a blood slick hand. Shadows burst from a corner of the corridor. A hooded figure lunged.
Elphaba didn’t hesitate.
She met the intruder with a swing that carved through air and muscle, her blood leaving red fingerprints along the hilt. The assassin fell with a choked cry. Silence followed.
Galinda screamed her name.
"Elphaba!"
Elphaba staggered, the arrow still embedded, blood soaking her tunic. "I’m fine," she rasped, gripping the wall. "You’re safe."
Guards arrived too late, shouting, rushing forward. Galinda knelt beside her as Elphaba’s legs finally gave, and the last thing she saw before the black crept in was Galinda’s wide, horrified eyes.
She awoke in the palace infirmary, wrapped in sterile linens and the scent of herbs. Voices murmured beyond the heavy door. Pain pulsed with every heartbeat, but the louder ache was elsewhere.
Galinda.
Elphaba forced herself up. The world tilted. She bit down on the scream that rose in her throat and gripped the edge of the bed. Her armor had been removed, but not her sense of duty.
She was not where she was supposed to be.
By sheer force of will, she made her way down the dim halls. Every step was agony. Her blood had stopped flowing, but the pain was raw and vicious. When she arrived at Galinda’s chambers, the two guards posted there stepped forward in alarm.
"You shouldn’t be—"
"There’s a breach," Elphaba said hoarsely. "Secure the eastern wing. I’ll stay with her."
They hesitated, glancing at her wound, but her stare was sharper than their doubt.
They obeyed.
She leaned against the door for a moment, dizzy and sweating, then braced herself and knocked once. Before she could knock again, the door flew open.
Galinda stood there, eyes wide, hair tousled from pacing.
"Elphaba—!" she gasped. "You shouldn’t be up!"
Elphaba straightened with what strength she had. "I’m fine."
"You are not fine!" Galinda hissed, reaching out just in time to catch her as Elphaba dropped to one knee with a strangled sound. "By the gods, you’re burning up. Come here, come in.
Galinda wrapped an arm around her waist and guided her inside, closing the door behind them. Elphaba collapsed onto the princess’s bed, blood seeping faintly through the fresh bandages.
Galinda knelt beside her, cradling her face with shaking hands.
"You could’ve died," she whispered.
"But you didn’t," Elphaba breathed. "That’s all that matters."
"Don’t say that! Don’t you dare reduce yourself like that. You—" Galinda’s voice cracked. "You got hurt because of me."
Elphaba tried to sit up, but Galinda pressed her gently back. "Your life. Elphaba, your life is not less than mine."
Elphaba’s eyes softened. "It is to me."
Galinda drew back as if slapped, lips trembling. "Don’t you see? You shouldn’t have to think like that. And now… now I know it’s real. The danger. This isn’t some noble fairytale."
"I never said it was."
Galinda was quiet for a long moment. Then, slowly, she whispered, "Am I worth it?"
Elphaba stared at her.
Then said, low and unwavering, "I would burn this entire kingdom to the ground if it meant you were free," Elphaba whispered, and it wasn’t just a confession, it was a vow.
Galinda blinked, tears threatening to spill. "You’ve given me nothing but flattery this whole time… little smiles, respectful words. But your true feelings—we’ve never spoken them aloud."
Elphaba was still. Her face betrayed no fear, only longing.
"I’m a princess who wants to be free," Galinda went on, quieter now, "and I keep complaining to my guard. Why do you even put up with me?"
Elphaba swallowed hard. "I don’t know," she murmured. "I’m just… drawn to you. In more ways than I understand."
Galinda leaned in. "Then don’t fight it."
Their lips met, tentative at first, then desperate, a clash of restraint finally shattered. The tension that had built across a hundred walks and lingering glances broke like a storm. Hands tangled in hair, bodies pressed close, breathless promises murmured between kisses.
Elphaba forgot the pain for a moment.
Until the moment passed, and Galinda curled beside her, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
"You said you’d fight for me," Galinda whispered, "but I’m betrothed. A political bond my parents forged while I was still ignorant to everything."
Elphaba's face stiffened.
"I know," she said softly. "That’s why I tried to keep my distance. It’s not just that you’re royalty. You’re... promised."
Galinda turned to her, tracing a finger down her cheek. "Do you think I care? I don’t want him. I never did."
"But if it comes to it... if choosing me means betraying your family—"
"My duty isn’t to them," Elphaba said firmly. "It’s to you."
And there was that fire again. In her voice. In her eyes.
Galinda pressed their foreheads together, breathing her in like air after drowning. "Then fight for me, Elphaba. I don’t want freedom if you’re not in it."
Elphaba closed her eyes, her wound aching, her heart louder than the pain.
"I already am."