Glinda
They hadn’t even given her a blanket.
Glinda supposes it’s a silly thing to fixate on, since she apparently has more important things to worry about, like the very real possibility of her imminent death, but she’s shivering in her bright pink gown, the skirts of which had long since gone flat and dirty. They now hang limply against her legs like the froat Elphaba had so loved to wear during their brief time as roommates.
It feels like a thousand lifetimes ago.
Glinda loathes feeling uncomfortable. She’s always gone out of her way to seek out every comfort she can find. It was one of the reasons why she’d requested a private suite before starting her first term at Shiz. The prospect of sharing space with a stranger, and letting that person see her in her most vulnerable state, had been unthinkable. A room to herself would have allowed her to take off the mask she wore to the public, so that she could be her true, vulnerable self for a few hours.
Ironically, now that she has space to herself in this freezing, damp and dirty cell in the bowels of the Emerald Palace, Glinda longs for someone to talk to.
Well, not just someone. A very specific, green someone who was, unfortunately, dead.
The bare, exposed skin of her arms and collarbone erupted in goosebumps eons ago. She doesn’t think she’s stopped shivering once since the guards had unceremoniously thrown her down in the palace’s dungeon, far away from the public eye. She wonders vaguely if she’s just going to die down here, lonely and forgotten, before she’s given the chance to plead her case to Madame Morrible and the Wizard.
She’s not so sure she wants to.
Glinda’s thought about ripping the excess fabric of her skirts to use as a wrap around her shoulders, but it seems like too much work. It would be a shame to destroy such a lovely gown, even if it’s no good anymore from all the dirt and blood it’s coated in. Maybe, if she takes off the gown, she could wrap the fabric around her upper body and used the blanket around her legs, and maybe preserve what’s left of her body heat. But even as she thinks it, she knows it’s a stupid idea, and as everyone has loved telling her throughout her life, thinking and planning have never been her strong suit.
She certainly hadn’t been thinking when she’d sent the child who killed Nessa off to the Emerald City on a wild goose chase in her supposed quest to return home to whatever land she’d come from.
She hadn’t been thinking when she’d gone to Kiamo Ko to try to talk some sense into her old friend, who’d leaned so far into her wicked witch persona that it seemed she’d finally started to believe it.
And she certainly hadn’t been thinking when she’d rammed her pointed wand in the abdomen of that silly little girl after finding the puddle of water underneath that ridiculous black pointed hat, the only parts of Elphaba that remained.
And what does she have to show for it? She’s a shell of her former self, with no handsome fiancé, no magic, and no family or friends.
Glinda knows she has no family, because Momsie and Popsicle wrote her a letter shortly after her arrest, claiming that they’d disowned her. And she knows that she has no friends, because none of them have come to see her. She’s not sure if Madame Morrible has denied her any visitors, but she clings to the faraway hope, nonetheless.
She thinks of Pfannee and Shenshen and their brief tenure of friendship in those early days at Shiz, before she’d come to know Elphaba and see her as a person and not just a freak she’d been saddled with for a last-minute roommate. They’d lost contact with each other after graduating Shiz, but surely, they would’ve come to see her now that the girl they’d despised for so long was dead? They’d all gone to great lengths to bully Elphaba at the beginning of their first year and had taken great pleasure in her suffering. Glinda doesn’t look back on that time with any kind of fondness for how she treated Elphaba, though she’d relive that time in a heartbeat if it meant just one more minute with the girl she’d come to love.
It pains her to finally admit it now, after all this time. At first, she’d simply thought her feelings were those of an intense, close friendship because she’d never had one before. She’d never been close to anyone before like the way she’d come to be with Elphaba. She’s had friendships before, but they’ve all been fleeting and shallow, like a sandcastle built on a beach. They looked strong and everlasting on the surface but any type of resistance would send them crumbling to the ground.
But not Elphaba. Never Elphaba. Elphaba had been like a fortress: impossible to invade, but once Glinda had been let inside, she couldn’t have left even if she’d wanted to. Until Elphaba had been ripped away from her and Glinda had been left without her fortress, unprotected and vulnerable. How could Elphaba have possibly believed that Glinda would be able to do this without her? How could she go on living without even the smallest possibility that one day, Elphaba might return for her? That she’d be able to see that magnificent green skin just one more time?
Glinda doesn’t regret what she did to that female child. If she had it to do all over again, Glinda wouldn’t change a thing. Glinda had watched from the shadows as the girl had thrown the bucket of water at Elphaba, had seen the intent in her wide, innocent blue eyes, even as the girl claimed it was an accident.
Glinda had watched in horror and disbelief as her friend had dissolved right before her eyes. She didn’t understand how water could have made her friend melt like that. The rumors and speculation had been running rampant for so long that nearly every citizen of Oz had been convinced that simple water would be Elphaba’s undoing. They’d eventually been taken as an understood fact, like she wasn’t even human. Like she was nothing more than an evil, wicked witch straight from the stories told to children to scare them into compliance.
And of course, Glinda had done nothing to end the rumors because she’d been told not to. The people need a villain to believe in, the Wizard had claimed, and Madame Morrible had warned her long ago not to go against the Wizard’s word.
He knows what he’s doing, the sorceress had hissed in her ear on more than one occasion, when Glinda had been feeling uncharacteristically rebellious and had found herself questioning the decision to vilify her friend. It is not your job to question him. Your job is to smile, look pretty, and tell the people what they need to hear.
So that’s what she’d done. For five long, painful years, Glinda had done nothing but sit back and watch as the Wizard made a mockery of everything Elphaba stood for and cast her in the role of villain simply for having a passion and wanting to protect those that needed protecting.
What had been so wrong with that?
Glinda shudders when she thinks back to that one short day in the Emerald City. When she’d tried to convince Elphaba to go back to the Wizard, hear him out, and maybe even apologize. What a fool she’d been. What a young, naïve fool. They only would’ve done to her what they did to Glinda, only Elphaba wouldn’t have been as compliant as Glinda. Unlike Glinda, Elphaba would’ve fought against the confines they put her in, until the strain would’ve eventually broken her.
Sometimes Glinda wishes she had power like Elphaba had, so that she could find a spell to go back in time and reverse all the bad decisions she’d made over the years. Or at least warn Elphaba about the Wizard’s true intentions so that she wouldn’t go to the Emerald City and see for herself what a monster their ‘Wonderful Wizard of Oz’ was. If Elphaba hadn’t been tricked into casting that disgustifying levitation spell on those Monkeys, would things have played out the same?
She’ll never know. All Glinda can do is let everything unfold in her mind and see what would’ve happened. Imagining a different world in which the two of them stay at Shiz and graduate together is how she gets to sleep at night. Or if Glinda had just gotten on the broom when Elphaba had asked her to. Maybe they both would’ve been on the run, but at least they would’ve been together. It should’ve been enough back then, but it wasn’t, and Glinda still kicks herself whenever she lets herself think too hard about it. Maybe she’s partially to blame for everything that’s happened since then.
Maybe she’s just as guilty as Madame Morrible and the Wizard. The thought doesn’t sit well with her.
Now, Glinda’s almost glad that her death looms closer and closer. If it’s the only way that she’ll be reunited with Elphaba again, then she’ll welcome it with open arms, because what else does she have to live for now? Even if Madame Morrible or the Wizard see fit to let her go and forgive her for killing the girl, what would her prospects be? She certainly couldn’t be Glinda the Good anymore, because good people didn’t kill others in a fit of rage. They didn’t dream about doing it over and over again, because it was the only way they could find any kind of release for the pain that buids up inside, like a dam about to burst.
And they certainly didn’t fantasize about all the different ways they could’ve done it instead.
Glinda regrets using her wand to do the deed, because it means she no longer has it. That and her tiara had been taken from her during her arrest. She understands why they took her wand (it had been absolutely drenched in blood) but she doesn’t know why they took her tiara. Maybe they were afraid she’d use it to try to kill herself, or maybe it was Madame Morrible’s not so subtle way of firing her as ‘Glinda the Good.’ Maybe she’d thought Glinda needed the hint because the sorceress truly believed her to be that dense.
But no matter how much she tries otherwise, Glinda just can’t bring herself to care. She doesn’t care about any of it. They can do whatever they want with her, because after seeing how Elphaba had dissolved so easily…well, what was the point of anything anymore?
Glinda doesn’t think she’s ever felt as alone as she does now. Curled up on the small cot in her cell, with only her miserable thoughts for company, she feels like she’s the last person in the world. Maybe she is. Maybe, in her misery, Glinda has somehow magicked everyone else away. It would certainly explain why it’s been an age since anyone has come down here to see her. She doesn’t remember the last time she ate anything. Her stomach grumbles loudly at the reminder, but she doesn’t care. Starvation is hardly her preferred way to go, but if it gets her to her end goal of reuniting with Elphie, she won’t complain.
With that dreary thought in mind, Glinda closes her eyes and lets herself drift off, praying that tonight she’ll be lucky enough to dream about her love.
“Where are you?”
She feels disconnected from the familiar voice, as though she’s a thousand miles away and can’t bridge the distance between them. She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. The voice speaks again, a note of hysteria laced through the words that sound almost like a plea.
“Glinda, where are you?”
Glinda tries to speak, but no sound comes out. She’s just so tired. Her exhaustion is palpable and overpowering, and she doesn’t have a choice but to give in to it.
She’s vaguely aware of the voice speaking again, but she doesn’t have the energy to hear what it says, and eventually it fades into nothing.
The first thing Glinda notices when she opens her eyes is the studious face of Madame Morrible staring at her through the bars of her cell.
Glinda shoots up from her cot as though it just caught on fire, her heart pounding at the sight of another human being in front of her. She’s so taken aback by the sight that she can’t even tell what she’s feeling. Part of her is relieved that she has not, in fact, magicked the rest of the world away, though most of her is terrified by what the woman’s presence down here means for her.
“M-Madame Morrible?” Glinda’s voice croaks from disuse. Just how long as it been since she’s spoken to another person? Or spoken at all? “What are you d-doing here?”
“Seeing you, of course,” Madame Morrible’s saccharine smile is enough to send a shiver down Glinda’s spine. She doesn’t think the sorceress has ever spoken to her with such veiled hostility, even in their time together at Shiz. “And to give you some news.”
“News?” Oz, Glinda hates the way she hangs on to Morrible’s every word like a person starving, ready to accept even the smallest crumb. “News about what?” She hates the way hope flares in her chest that maybe the woman has come to tell her that Elphaba somehow survived the melting, even as she knows it’s a fool’s dream. She saw for her own eyes the terrible fate that her friend had suffered.
“About your future, dearie. However long that may be.”
The words send a shiver down Glinda’s spine. She thought she was ready to be told that her time was up, yet here she is, ready to fight and do whatever she needs to in order to survive just a little bit longer. She has no idea why, because now that Elphaba is dead, she doesn’t really see the point, but maybe all this is just her survival instincts kicking in.
Maybe Glinda just wants to go out on her own terms.
Everything that Glinda has done has been for someone else. Ever since Elphaba rode off on that magical broomstick of hers, Glinda’s felt as though her only purpose is to serve others. She doesn’t think she’s done anything that she’s wanted to do in a very long time. In fact, she honestly can’t remember the last time. She thinks maybe it was when Elphaba invited her to go to the Emerald City with her, and Glinda, being too weak not to give in to her own desires, had agreed.
Jumping on that train had been exhilarating, but everything that’s happened since has made her regret that decision more and more each day.
Glinda must’ve stayed silent for too long, because Madame Morrible is speaking again, her voice as acidic as honey that’s been left out in the sun for too long.
“You’ll be happy to know that the Wizard demanded that you be given a fair trial. Words were spoken on your behalf, and the years of service you’ve given Oz in your role as Glinda the Good was taken into account, but I’m afraid none of it was enough to outweigh such an evil act as murdering an innocent child.”
The old bat doesn’t sound too broken up by that girl’s loss. If anything, she sounds as though she’s trying not to gloat too hard about what the girl’s death means for Glinda.
Despite what everyone may think, Glinda’s not stupid. She knows Madame Morrible has hated her ever since their first, brief conversation at Shiz, when Glinda had all but begged to be let into her seminar, like some silly, foolish child not used to getting her way. Glinda could kick herself for how eager she’d been. How naïve.
Glinda doesn’t know what she did to make Morrible hate her so much. All she’d ever wanted was to learn magic and to become a sorceress, much like herself. It wasn’t like Glinda had enough power to pose a threat to the older lady’s position. If anything, she should’ve been threatened by Elphaba and all her power, yet she’d taken the green girl under her wing in what Glinda recognizes now as a ploy to use her to her own evil ends.
Well, hers and the Wizard’s ends.
“What does that mean?” Glinda asks now, tired of these silly games. “Why don’t you spell it out for me?”
Glinda’s a little surprised by the sudden bite in her tone, but she doesn’t regret it. The only thing she regrets is not having enough time after shoving her wand through the belly of that awful girl child to have also finished off the old woman standing in front of her.
After all, the fate that Elphaba suffered is also due to the actions of Morrible, and if Glinda had her way, the sorceress would withstand a trial of her own.
But it’s not up to Glinda, and though it’s killing her that Morrible won’t see her own time of reckoning, she doesn’t regret what she’s done.
Hopefully Elphie, wherever she is now, will see that everything Glinda has ever done since that fateful day in the Emerald City, has been in service of her.
“All right, dearie,” Madame Morrible says, the corners of her mouth twisting upward in the beginnings of a smirk. Glinda wishes she could reach through the bars of her cell and scratch it right off her. It would be the least this woman deserves, but she forces herself to be still. Not for Morrible’s sake, but because Glinda needs to hear whatever the lady came down here to tell her.
And then, maybe, she’ll get her last little bit of justice.
“The Wizard and I have come to the regrettable decision that you have proven yourself to be a danger to yourself and others. If you had even a drop of magic in those ice-cold veins of yours, I would bind them and merely keep you from using them to hurt anyone else ever again. But, since you have no talent and have proven yourself both surprisingly resourceful and willing to use anything to inflict pain upon others, you have left us with no other choice but to—”
“To what?” Glinda snaps, unable to help herself. It’s worth it just to see the look of utter surprise cross Morrible’s face for just a brief second before she quickly schools her expression back into place. “Put me to death? Do to me what I did to that despicable little girl for exactly the same reasons? At least I have the good sense to call it what it is: revenge. You’ve wanted to get rid of me ever since we first met. Let’s not pretend your reasons are any nobler than mine, dearie. The only difference between us is that you have the law on your side.”
Sweet Oz, it feels so good to finally get those words off her chest. To be able to speak freely has been one of the things she’s missed most since Elphaba disappeared all those years ago. Glinda’s had to be a beacon of hope for the people of Oz for so long that she nearly forgot how to take off her mask long enough to breathe and let her own feelings wash over her.
Now that it’s gone, Glinda doesn’t think it’ll ever fit properly again.
And she couldn’t be happier about it.
“No, my dear.” Madame Morrible’s sickly sweet words pull Glinda back to the conversation at hand. “The Wizard saw fit to spare you, and even I don’t have the kind of power it would take to change his mind.”
The words flit around Glinda’s brain, uncomprehending. The Wizard saw fit to spare her? But…why? She killed someone. A very sweet, innocent someone who’d claimed that killing Elphaba, the only person to have ever mattered to Glinda, was nothing more than an accident. All she’d wanted was the broomstick, so that the Wizard would give her a way back home, or so the child had said.
Maybe the Wizard hadn’t been as taken in by the girl’s charm as everyone else had. Maybe finding out the truth of Elphaba’s lineage had caused him to go soft. Whatever the reason, if Glinda were to go free, maybe she could finish what she started and put an end to the miserable old witch in front of her.
Maybe that would finally be enough to spur the fraud that was the Wonderful Wizard of Oz into action.
“So…he’s going to let me go free?”
Madame Morrible laughs darkly, the sound of it like a nail digging into Glinda’s back. “The Wizard? Let you go free? Wherever did you get such delusions?”
“But you just said—”
“I said that the Wizard has spared you,” Madame Morrible corrects, as though the small distinction was enough for her words to make sense. Glinda fights to keep the confusion off her face, but it’s impossible since they’re talking about her fate. Her future lies in the hands of the hateful sorceress in front of her, and Glinda hates that there’s nothing she can do about it. “He said nothing about letting you go. You killed someone, dearie. That can’t go unpunished, even for someone as good as yourself.”
She says the word as though it’s a curse; something to be reviled. And maybe to someone like Madame Morrible, who has never done a good deed in her life, it is. But Glinda refuses to give it the slightest bit of attention. Instead, she focuses her stare on the woman in front of her and raises an eyebrow as she waits for her to continue.
“The Wizard thought it would be in everyone’s best interests if you remain locked away, so that you won’t be able to harm anyone else ever again. And, though I admit that I had my initial doubts, the idea has rather grown on me.”
The words sink to the bottom of Glinda’s gut like a stone weight dragging her to the depths of the sea. Her throat begins to close, and suddenly she can’t get enough air into her lungs, though she sucks in enough oxygen to spit out, “For how long?”
The smile that crosses Madame Morrible’s lips is wide enough to split her entire face open. Glinda doesn’t think that the woman has ever looked as pleased as she does in that moment, and suddenly Glinda knows the answer. She doesn’t need the sorceress to say it to know the fate that lies in store for her.
But she waits for the woman to say it anyway, because what else does she have to do? “Why, for the rest of your life, dearie. This is to be your home now. I suggest you go ahead and make yourself comfortable. You’ll be here a while.”
And she laughs as she turns and walks away, leaving Glinda alone in the darkness, with only those parting words and her tattered gown for company in the cold depths of the Emerald Palace.